#i had slipping through my fingers on repeat for god knows how long

[pierogey]

pumpkin colored family of two

[heytheredelulu]

To Have and To Hold-

And to Fuck Whenever I Want

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

Word Count: 1.5k

C/W: Shameless smut. It’s our favorite dirty talkin’, 107 year old super soldier fucking you (his wife) on your period.

Gimme beefy Bucky coming home late, long after his kids are in bed for the night and finding his pretty little wife curled up on the couch with a frown on her perfect face, watching some shitty ass movie.

His cock twitches in his jeans at the sight of you in his tshirt and an audible groan rises up from his throat when he rounds the corner completely and notices you’ve chosen to forgo pajama pants altogether. Those innocent little cotton briefs of yours always do him in.

“What’s wrong, momma?” He asks in a low, gravely voice as he takes a seat next to you on the couch, resting a large hand on your bare thigh.

“Cramps.” You reply flatly, not taking your gaze off the garbage rom-com playing on the tv, though you’ve seen it numerous times.

“Oh.” He breathes out, glancing over his shoulder at the dry-erase calendar hanging on the wall in the kitchen that you use to manage your large family’s schedule. “Hm. Two days early?” He asks.

“Yeah, two fucking days early.” You snap, shifting in your seat.

He keeps his grasp firm on your thigh, offering an affectionate squeeze.

“You feelin’ that bad, huh?” He asks in a soft voice that he reserves only for you.

You nod, finally pulling your attention away from the television and turning it onto him. The only light source in the room at this time of night is from the flashing scenes across the flatscreen but that little bit of illumination is all he needs to see how glassy your eyes are.

“Oh, baby girl.” He murmurs, pushing your hair back off your face. “Lemme take care of you.”

You shake your head, knocking free a few of the tears that had been brimming your lash line. “No, there’s nothing you can do to help.”

He scoffs, his hand sliding up the soft flesh of your thigh until his fingertips brush the hem of your underwear.

“No. Baby, no.” You protest, bringing your hand down to stop him but his vibranium hand is faster, catching your wrist and pushing it away.

“Yes. Baby, yes.” He muses, slipping his index finger under the fabric and gently wrapping the string of your tampon around it.

“Bucky, that’s disgusting.” You hiss, frowning at him. “I’m on my period.”

He lets out a low, breathy chuckle as he slowly and carefully begins to tug. “It’s just blood, momma. You think me of all people would be bothered by blood?” He asks softly.

You pause, considering your answer but in your silence he continues. “Besides, wasn’t that part of the vows we exchanged in that sweet little church before God? To have and to hold and to fuck whenever I want?”

“That was not in our vows and you know it.”

“Hm, they weren’t? We should consider renewing those.” He replies with a crooked smirk as he pulls your tampon free, tossing it over the couch and into the waste bin with precision.

“I gotta be honest, baby girl. If the good lord hadn’t intended for me to fuck you everytime my cock was hard, he wouldn’t have blessed you with such a perfect little pussy.”

“Bucky..” you warn, sitting upright as he rises off the couch.

He shushes you, his large hands moving to unbuckle his belt as your eyes settle on the tented crotch of his jeans.

“If you think-“ He mumbles, pulling the leather through the silver buckle and unbuttoning his jeans with his thick fingers. “That I’m not going to bury myself balls deep inside my wife any and every chance I get- you are sorely mistaken.” He tells you matter of factly, tugging his jeans down his defined waist and kicking them unceremoniously aside in a pile at the foot of the couch. “Now take off those sweet little panties before I tear them off of you.”

You hesitate, swallowing down the whimper that rose up in your throat at his command.

“I said, off.” He repeats sternly, stepping out of his boxers and wrapping a hand around his weeping cock. He pumps himself lazily once, twice, in your hesitation before letting out an impatient growl and reaching forward to curl his vibranium fingers under the waistband of underwear, not allowing you a second more to protest before tearing them effortlessly off of your body.

“Now, are you gonna follow my instructions or will I have to pick you up and set you down where you belong?” He asks in a gruff whisper, his blue eyes darkening with desire.

“And where exactly do you think I belong?” You ask him defiantly, pulling at his last thread of patience.

“You-“ He growls, grasping your wrists in a punishing grip and yanking you to your feet. He jerks you towards him as he looms over you, his head dipped down to hold your gaze and his impossibly hard cock pressing against your abdomen, leaving a smear of precum across the soft skin of your belly.

“You belong wrapped around me.” He murmurs, cupping your jaw gently and brushing the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip in an affectionate sentiment that felt like such a stark contrast to the aggression he’d just been displaying. It was the little gestures that betrayed that dominance in him, that assured you that this powerful man standing so needy before you loved you so much that he’d do anything for you without question.

You lean into his touch and he lets out a low and breathy moan.

“You belong wrapped around me, momma.” He continues. “Crying out my name. Soakin’ my cock with your sweet, sweet-“ He pauses, his length twitching as he sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck, I need you.” he chokes out, settling his hands on each side of your hip and he lifts you effortlessly, sinking you down inch by inch onto his throbbing cock.

He plants his feet and bends his knees, supporting your weight as he cups your ass, kneading the soft flesh while he allows you the opportunity to anchor your arms around his neck. A shameless moan rises from your throat, your head tipping back in the pleasure of him buried balls deep within you as he walks you backwards to press your back to the wall. A low and cocky chuckle is all the warning he gives you before he draws his hips back, thrusting up into you hard enough to kiss your cervix. Choked gasps tear from your chest as he picks up a steady rhythm, massaging your aching walls with every deep rut of his hips.

“I thought-“ He hissed through gritted teeth, dipping his head to nip at your pulse point. “You said nothing would help.”

You shake your head, mumbling incoherently and letting your head fall against your shoulder to allow him further access to the sensitive skin of your neck. “Seems like it’s helping.” He muses, licking a long stripe up the column of your throat. You whimper, tightening your legs around his waist as he slows his pace into long, deep strokes, groaning as he savors the way you grip him, the feeling of your building orgasm causing his hips to stutter just the slightest.

“Fuck, momma. You have.. the most.. perfect.. cunt.” He rasps out, emphasizing each of the last words with a brutal thrust.

You break with that last deep roll of his hips, the tension that was coiled tight in your abdomen snapping with a burst of white hot ecstacy, a broken cry escaping your heaving chest as your walls spasm around him.

“Oh God, that’s it. Come on my cock, come all over daddy’s cock.” He grunts, snapping his hips and increasing his tempo to fuck you through the dizzying waves of your release.

“Jamie..” You whimper, reaching a trembling hand to caress his jaw.

His name on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound, causing his breath to catch and his eyes flutter closed with a low and raspy moan. He turns his head to press a kiss to your palm before you trail your fingertips down his shoulders in a featherlight touch. He buries his face into your neck, his short, sharp pants hot against your skin, his movements growing sloppy and erratic as he hangs on by a mere thread.

“I’m- I-“ He chokes out, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle the primal groan that rips through his chest as his balls draw up and his cock pulses, emptying himself inside you with one last powerful thrust.

He’s still for a moment, working to catch his breath before he tightens his arms around you, peppering gentle kisses along your jaw as he lowers you to the floor on wobbly legs and you sway, stumbling forward slightly.

“Momma.” He says softly, splaying a large hand against the base of your skull and drawing you into his chest. “You alright?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m alright.” You assure him, a hum of satisfaction rumbling in his chest under your ear. “I’m feeling much, much better.”

He smiles, tucking your head under his chin just to feel you close to him a moment longer.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s get you in a hot bath.”

His hands trail along your spine in a soothing motion, goosebumps prickling along your flushed skin in response to his touch.

“To have and to hold.” He whispers, pressing a firm kiss to your temple.

You grin against his chest, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent.

“And to fuck whenever you want.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

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[killakalx]

17+ content, just dick eating you out while you’re otp

“oh my god- dick,” you scold from above, legs clamping around his head as he sucks on your clit. all you get is a sly hum against your heat in response, hand gliding up and down your thighs before locking around your hips. still, the rude vibrations against your nightstand makes you antsy, and dick seems too occupied to acknowledge it as you reach across the bed. “dick!”

“hm,” he barely responds, as the tug on the front of his hair only urges him on.

“cut it out,” you tell him.

his tone picks up a bit of disappointment, worried to have done something wrong. dick finally picks his head up, eyes hanging low and lingering on your lips before looking up at you. “you really want me to?”

“no,” you sigh, “but I… I had a date. hold on.”

his expression changes from an apologetic puppy to an almost irritated cat, tilting his head when you pick up the phone. he’s not mad, it just… feels a little rude, interrupting his meal for the same guy you were so ready to ghost. dick was the first to tell you that you wouldn’t follow through with it, and he’s getting bit in the ass for being right.

and on top of that, listening to the half-assed apology you had to come up with is painful. you can’t exactly tell the guy you’re busy with your best friend, but god he wishes you could. he’s been taught by only the best that patience is a virtue, but it easily slips his mind for this one incident. “yeah- no, it’s not your fault!” you repeat over and over, “I just got caught up. forgot about some stuff i had to- mm!”

“you’re rude,” dick whispers in feigned offense, thumb rolling over your clit when he pushes your legs open a bit further. “had me thinking I was interrupting something.”

“you are!” you yell under a hushed voice, covering the speaker of the phone before your breath hitches.

“mm-mm,” his head lowers again, “he’s interrupting me.” your leg moves to kick at his shoulder, but he’s already secured you under his grip and it’s evident he isn’t letting go again. you’d opt to yell at him, but that’d be very telling. “since you want both of us, just stay on the phone.”

“what? no, you-“

“hang up too soon and i’ll stop. get too loud and I’ll keep going.”

you can hear the mischief seeping through his teeth before his tongue prods at your cunt, and at this point, your planned date’s wondering what happened, so you’ve got no choice but to pull this off. god knows the last thing you want dick to do is stop. so, begrudgingly, you continue the conversation that’s only hanging by a thread.

your responses teeter from choppy sentences to low hums as he speaks, and dick’s snickering to himself when it’s unclear if your poor conversation holding stems from true boredom or from his tongue lapping up your slick. one hand holds on tight to a mess of black hair while the other fidgets with the phone, eventually digging it into the covers to give yourself grace.

“he’s talking to you,” dick mutters against your thigh, fingers curling up inside you and making your hips buck. he’s drawn out a low but clearly audible moan and he dips deeper to nudge at your sweet spot, keeping true to his promise and watching you unravel as the chatter from your phone becomes distant. “he sounds worried, babe.”

don’t act like you care, you wanna tell him, but he’s right. a few more moans of defeat and you’re forcing the phone closer to your face, assuring him that you’re fine. you can’t tell what’s more impressive; how long dick can spend savoring your pussy or how long this guy can hold a useless conversation without catching a hint.

[solbaby7]

If ur still taking requests can i ask for azriel x reader. Where reader and Az are newish friends. One day Elain asks reader for help on how to please a man (I imagine elain always on her back 🤷‍♀️). Reader asks elain if its to show Az and elain just blushes sweetly saying "maybe". Reader being a girls girl shows elain how to be ontop and how to do other favors like if they were besties. ( idk if uve seen game of thrones but a girl shows khalessi how to ride khal drogo. The girl straight up straddles her with clothes on of course, And shows her. I have it in my head that while reader straddles elain Az walks in and is like 😮😮). Readers a bit jealous cuz she has a mini crush on azriel but doesnt show it. She sees elain with some hickies and what not and she decides she cant be around Az anymore (hurts too much blah idk lol). Az is like wtf! Turns out that Elain was asking for sexy help for lucien!!! Doesnt have to be detailed smutty at all, whatever ur comfortable with is cool with me. Oh btw i so so loved that possessive toxic azriel fic u posted the other day. 🫠🫠🫠 🥵🥵🥵

I love love love love love this idea! So happy you requested it🤍💗

—

Teach Me

azriel x reader

[ part 2 ]

“Well—can you help me with that?” A furious blush fans across Elain’s cheeks, eyes wide and hands fumbling at her sides. Dainty fingers dig into the intricate lace detailing of her dress, nails raking over the pattern in attempts to calm the racing of her heart.

“You want to know how to please a male,” You repeat gently, slightly shocked after she’d timidly slipped into your bedroom with flushed cheeks and sweaty palms. It took Elain ten whole minutes to reign in her rambling until she’d finally blurted it out. “Anyone in particular?” She doesn’t meet your eye, shifting her weight from foot to foot and your stomach rolls at the turn your mind takes. Elain had been spending a lot of time around Azriel; afternoons spent tending to the garden and evenings were blocked off to trail behind as she baked some new sweet treat. “Az, maybe?”

“Maybe,” Elain mutters softly, subtly taking in the contents of your room. The pictures propped against your side table and the endless jars and creams stacked neatly on your vanity. “Can you please teach me?”

Pushing side your curiosity, you offer an encouraging smile, patting at the spot beside you on the bed. “Come here.” The first step is hesitant and so is the one that follows but Elain still finds herself following the gentle command and complying even further when you urge her to lie back. You can feel her thighs shake when you swing a leg over to straddle them but the trembling subsides when you adjust her hair and straighten out her dress. “Sex is like a dance.”

Immediately, she’s hooked, hanging onto every word as if you were the Mother herself coming down for a personal visit. Briefly, Elain’s gaze flicks to the door, shoulders relaxing when noting its shut and locked; curtains drawn and the fireplace crackled with life. The smell of you is everywhere. Something light yet memorable, soft and elegant, classic and slightly sweet—soothing in every way. “A dance?”

“It starts off slow,” You begin, a sliver of your abdomen exposed in your Night Court attire. A breathable onyx top that seemed to wrap around your chest like a bandage, blending into a lighter material that was slightly see-through. “Lingering glances from across the room, the heat of feeling his eyes watching you long after you’ve looked away.” Her confusion is palpable in her furrowed brows and slight pout. “Love always begins in the eyes—I’ve heard of women who’ve finished males with nothing more than their gaze alone.”

“Finished?” Your brow raises, a teasing smirk accompanying it and the implication alone has Elain’s cheeks rosy once more. “Oh, gods. I don’t think I’m capable of anything like that.”

Your fingers trace along the length of her bare arms, holding her hands and guiding them to the sides of her head as you hover, voice low. “You are a woman. You’re capable of anything.”

Elain swallows thickly, taking in the words as if it were the first time she truly wanted to believe them. “What if he doesn’t like it? Like me or the fact that I’m not very experienced.”

“They don’t care about if you have experience or not. They simply desire what they’ve never had.” She hangs onto every word, analyzing the way you guide her through the motions of what she’d do. Talking her through the scenarios on how she’d touch; when to kiss and gently tug at hair. Eventually the blushing becomes less frequent, Elain’s eyes fluttering closed as she visualized it, working through the new feelings that brewed at the thought of being able to use such teachings.

“And they like that? Us on top?”

“If you like it then they’ll love it.” You rest her hands at your waist, demonstrating the sensual rocking of hips going back and forth. “Fae males are not like the human men you were accustomed to—all sweet and gentle. Fae’s fuck. They take control,” You’re still above her, watching as her thoughts race a mile a minute, thick lashes fluttering before she moves in a flurry. Quickly the position is changed and while it’s a little sloppy, Elain was obviously paying attention as she hooks her leg over your thighs the same way you had hers. “Good job—exactly like that.”

She lets out a laugh, seemingly surprised in her own actions but the thrill of it all is evident across ethereal features. “My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest.”

“Breathe through it and always remember that no matter how highly you think of him in your mind, no matter how highly others think of him—in that room, he belongs to you. There for you to do as you please and if you’re ever uncomfortable you can always say no. You can always stop no matter how far you’ve gotten.”

Elain nods in understanding, dainty fingers barely gripping at your wrists. “Thank you for this. I don’t know what I’d do if—just, thank you.”

She lingers a tad longer, following every instruction you give and just as you’re about to correct her, your door creaks open. A familiar voice calls out your name, shadows slinking across the wallpaper but they freeze once they take you in—sprawled out against the bed with Elain straddling you, hands pinned by your head.

“We were just—“ Elain scrambles off of you, cheek and chest a furious red as her mouth opens and closes; unable to come up with a reasonable explanation before she’s sliding past Azriel and rushing down the hallway.

“Most people knock.”

But Az wasn’t most people. You’d been friends for years and long since had he forgone the formality of knocking before entering. He hasn’t moved an inch, still donning his fighting leathers and surely he must’ve just rushed in from flying because his hair was a fucking mess. Inky strands lay messily atop his head, flopping over his forehead and teasing the thick of his brows. “What was that?” A finger points in the direction Elain had just disappeared off too and you’re unable to explain why such anger swells in your gut—all too aware of the fact that another female would be using your moves on him.

Seducing him in a manor that belonged to you but would never actually be you.

“Just wait a little, I’m sure it’ll make sense soon.” Confusion sweeps over the angles of his face at the vagueness of your words, skewing the corners of his mouth and you have to physically tear your eyes away before you did something stupid. Like, kiss him. You suck in a sharp breath, a hand curling around the doorknob. “You should get to bed, Az. It’s late.”

You can’t bear to see the look on his face when you close the door on him but it was for the best. It was one thing crushing on him while knowing he wanted another. But it was more complicated now, teaching the object of all his desires exactly what to do to him—how to please him and draw out the sounds you’d been dreaming about for decades.

You flop down on your bed, nose scrunching at the lingering smell of Elain on your pillows.

Sleep doesn’t grace you with her presence that night, instead offering a series of scenarios of what could be happening a few hallways down.

Elain’s back two days later, a goofy grin spread across her cheeks and a line of hickeys branding the side of her neck in a way that makes your stomach turn. It takes everything in you to hide the jealously, to smooth over the embarrassment of ever possibly thinking that Azriel would go for you when he had a blushing Archeron hanging off his arm. “I take it that it went well.”

“More than well,” Elain confessed, dressed in a pale shade of green with ivy’s laced into the thin sleeves. “It was perfect—everything was perfect thanks to you.” She continues on, divulging naughty details and devastating descriptions of Azriel’s fingers grazing at bare skin, the tickle of his hair against her cheek, the warmth radiating from his body when the nights chill became too much. “I’d always heard whispers about the males of Autumn but you guys really weren’t joking,” Your head tilts to the side at that certain detail, brow quirking and your spoon halts its swirling about the teacup. “Fire really does run through their veins.”

“Autumn males?” Your hair flicks behind your shoulder with the wild way you turn to face her, arms crossed loosely over your chest. “You were with Lucien last night?”

Elain nods with a knowing smile growing at the corner of full lips, the tulle of her dress shifting obnoxiously when she takes a seat on your bed.

“I guess I just assumed you’d be with Azriel.”

“Not quite my type,” She replies wistfully, gaze far away as if she were reminiscing on the night before and the male involved. “He’s yours though,” It’s not a question but a statement, thrown out there as if it were a known fact amongst others and you were the last to be let in. “—you like him.”

The teacup pressed to your lips muffles the words but Elain still understands perfectly clear. “”He’s my friend.”

“Friends don’t really look at friends the way he looks at you.” You swallow audibly, attempting to hide your interest and yet it’s the quick flick of your eyes that gives you away. “It’s exactly as you said the other night,” Elain raises from the bed, a gentle hand trailing up your arm the same way you’d done to her. “Love always begins in the eyes. Just look at him—really look at him and see what’s right in front of you.”

Your hands tremble in your lap and for the first time in a very long while, it was you that felt like the blushing virgin searching for answers and not knowing where to look. “I don’t think I’m capable of handling what I might find.”

“You are a woman,” Elain softly answers. “You’re capable of anything.”

[inkedells]

hear me out: dbf!joel railing u on a bed full of plushies HEKSHDKS <3 maybe ur clutching or biting onto one and he's just cooing at u calling u a good girl HEHE

ok don't mind me popping my mf pussy w this drabble (ALSO YES THIS IS THE DBF!JOEL REQUEST THAT DROVE ME CRAZY YALL)

summary/bg info: coming home from college for winter break and acting on the sexual tension that exists between you and your dad’s best friend, joel--while finding extra comfort in your childhood plushies.

words: ~700

mdni! | requests open but responses not guaranteed.

“God, you’re a fuckin’ shy little thing, aren’t you?”

Your mouth only gaped open around a silent moan as your back arched against your childhood bed. You weren’t sure how it ended up in your hands, but you were clutching your favorite plushie, a brown bear with matted curly fur, as Joel continued his ministrations against your clit. The sight of the waistband of your sleep shorts stretched around his wrist was intoxicating, and so was the way his hand moved from underneath the thin cover of its fabric.

“Joel,” you whined, biting your lip as your hips grinded against his hand.

“Mm, that’s right. Only I know how to take care of this pretty pussy. Go ahead, sweetheart, hug your stuffies. I know you wanna.”

You hummed at that, nodding enthusiastically. Your breathing uneven and frantic from arousal, you lazily gathered the plushies surrounding you in your arms as Joel manhandled you until your ass was in the air and your cheek was pressed against the numerous stuffed toys cradled in your arms.

“Now listen here, baby girl. You’re gonna let me fuck this,” He paused to trail a finger along your seam through the fabric of your shorts, as if to make clear exactly what “this” was referring to, “And all you gotta do is keep making those pretty noises and cuddling your little toys, yeah?”

You whined high in your throat in confirmation as Joel slipped his hands underneath the hem of your shorts to palm your ass. 

“Not good enough,” He tsked, still massaging circles into your plump flesh, “Repeat it back to me.”

You swallowed, a blush creeping up on the apples of your cheeks as you clutch handfuls of stuffies. “You’re gonna… fuck… me—”

“—Fuck what?”

You groaned, turning to bury your face in the pile of stuffed toys beneath you. “My pussy,” You mumbled. You were positive your face was already beet red from embarrassment.

“Didn’t quite catch that,” He teased. You knew fully well he heard you, but indulging him in this manner was only making the heat between your legs grow hungrier, so you complied.

“You’re gonna fuck my pussy,” You said clearly, “And I’m—I’m gonna cuddle my stuffies while you use it.”

Satisfied with your response, Joel tugged your shorts down until you felt cool air hitting your pussy. Not for long, though, because soon the radiating heat of Joel’s cock was taking over as he swept his weeping tip through your folds.

“Gonna put it in now, ‘kay baby girl?” He voiced in that gravelly low rumble, and although he posed it as a question, you were smart enough to recognize it as a warning for the inevitable. Joel didn’t bother properly stretching you out, he wanted it tight so it would swallow him up just the way he wanted.

He slammed into you, ripping a coarse moan from your throat before the pain of the stretch became too much and you bit down on one of the stuffies in order to stave off a scream.

“Aww,” He mocked, “Is it hurting you, sweetheart?”

“So… big,” You managed to get out, eyes droopy and your brain completely mush as he pistoned in and out of your inviting heat, “Too… big…”

“Oh, fuck,” He groaned to himself, “You really are stretched. Fucking ruined you.” His breathing intensified as he lightly traced where you and him met with his fingers, clearly aroused by the contrast between your tight little cunt and the way his huge cock is forcibly stretching it open. His feathery touches combined with his abrupt, punishing thrusts had you pushing your ass back even further against his front, craving the abusive jerking of his hips.

Joel breathed an amused laugh at that. “Actually, it seems like it’s just the right amount of big if it’s got you pushing back for more. You like it painful, huh?”

“F-Fuck, Joel, yeah. Yeah, I love it painful. God, please, fill me up Joel. Your cum, I want it, please.”

Joel faked a wince at your words. “Looks like the innocent little girl’s suddenly got a mouth on her. That happen a lot? Does cock tend to get you dirty mouthed?”

With your cheek pressed into one of your stuffies, you peered up at him from the corner of your eye as you breathed the words, “Just yours.” It was only barely loud enough for him to hear it over the wet sounds of him fucking into your dripping pussy. In fact, you weren't even sure if he had heard you until a hint of a smile crossed his face and he told you in that warm, rumbly rasp, "Mm, I know. Because you're my good girl," with every proceeding thrust reeking of pride.

see my masterlist here

A/N: may or may not do a permanent taglist? not sure yet, just depends on the demand for it soooo maybe let me know in my asks if you want to be on a *possible* taglist for my fics (i only rlly write joel).

anyway thank you all for the support for this blog and my fics!!! truly love you all, and def don't be afraid to reach out and say hello, i need more mutuals whether you're a writer or not!!

taglist for this fic: @777-wonders , @scarlettstarlettsarletts , @pedrosbabygirl , @deathsholywaterr , @devilmademewriteit

[sluts4matt]

Can u make a Chris smut where he was so desperate for sex he just kept thrusting into the reader and she wasn’t even adjusted to his size so it was hurting her so then she used there safe word and u can finish it

DESPERATE

pairing: soft!chris x latina!reader

summary: chris was so desperate he didn't realize he was hurting you until you used your safe word.

warnings: SMUT, praising, p in v, making out, praising, pet names,

word count: 1021

author's note: i don't know how i feel about this eek, but i hope whoever requested likes it :)

chris had just gotten back to massachusetts after being gone for basically the whole month. he laid on your stomach, your hand going through his soft brown locks.

"i've missed you so much babygirl," chris spoke into your stomach. you giggled, his hot breath tickling your belly.

"i've missed you too."

it wasn't long before he had your wrist pinned over the top of your head. his lips pressed roughly against yours. you whined as his tongue slipped into your mouth, licking the roof of it. his teeth bit down onto your bottom lip, tugging slightly.

his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, down to your neck, his lips and teeth grazing your sensitive skin. your back arched as he sucked hard on your neck, leaving a hickey behind.

"ch-chris." you gasped, feeling his hips buck into yours. you felt how hard he was, a soft moan leaving your lips.

his hands worked at pulling your pants off, his following. his hands gripped onto your thighs, pushing them apart.

he pulled your underwear off, tossing them off to the side. his finger ran along your pussy, a low groan leaving his lips.

"so fucking wet, fuck," he groaned. he grabbed his length, pumping it a few times before guiding it to your walls.

"chris wai-"

your sentence was cut off as he shoved himself deep inside of you. he didn't give you any time to adjust to his size before his hips began rocking into you. your nails clawed his shoulders, his hips snapping against yours.

"ch-chris, s-slow, oh my god," you moaned. tears sprung in your eyes, pain shooting through you.

he was so lost in his lust, not even realizing what he was doing. his hips snapped against yours, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust.

"f-fuck, red, chris, red," you managed to get out.

that's when he stopped, realizing he had been hurting you. his cock slipped out of you, his eyes filling with worry.

"fuck, fuck," he repeated, pulling you to cradle you in his arms. "i'm so sorry," he whispered. "i-it's okay, i know y-you didn't mean it," you stuttered.

"i'm so sorry," he kissed your forehead, his hand running along your back. you took a few deep breaths, throwing your legs over his to straddle his lap. his eyebrows shot up, unsure of what you were doing.

"y-you don't have to," he tried to argue. "but i want to," you mumbled, taking his cock in your hands. you pumped it, his heavy breaths filling the room. his head tipped back, his hands squeezing your hips.

you sank down onto his cock, your walls adjusting to him. your hips slowly started rocking, his hands moving to grope your ass. his head lifted, his lips finding yours again.

he took control, lifting you and dropping you back down onto his cock. a moan ripped from your throat, your fingers tangling into his hair in a desperate attempt to bring him closer.

"f-fuck, ma, i've missed this pussy," he moaned against your lips. his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, your hips meeting his with each thrust. his head tipped back, groans and curses falling from his lips.

"ch-chris," you whimpered, the tip of his cock rubbing that bundle of nerves inside of you. your legs trembled as his hand wrapped around your throat, his thumb pressing into your windpipe.

your eyes rolled back as a small smile took over your lips, "like that ma?" he chuckled. your head bobbed, not being able to use words.

he flipped you so you were under him. his arm snaked around your lower back, bringing your body to his. your legs wrapped around his waist, his thrusts speeding up. his lips connected to yours again, muffling your moans.

his grunts were low, his eyes squeezed shut. your fingers clawed at his back, your toes curling as the knot in your stomach got tighter. "mmm," you moaned, "close."

he grunted, his hand slipping between the two of you. his thumb started to rub your clit, making you gasp. your nails scratched down his back, a hiss leaving his lips. "marking your territory ma?"

you whined, your walls fluttering around his cock. "yes, fuck yes, m-mine," you slurred. he let out a chuckle, "yeah baby?" he asked tauntingly, angleing his hips, his cock pressing deeper inside of you.

"oh my-chris," you cried. your legs tightened around him, your body going ridgid. the knot in your stomach finally broke, a loud scream coming from you.

"that's my girl," he cooed, continuing his thrusts. you were a panting mess, chris chasing his high. his lips moved from yours, back to your neck.

he sucked on your sensitive spot, leaving more marks behind. his hand gripped onto the headboard, his hips snapping into you. his hips started to falter, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

"ma, fuck," he moaned, his head dipping into the crook of your neck. his moans vibrated against your skin, sending a shiver through you. his cock twitched inside of you, his cum spurting out of the tip.

"ch-chris," you cried as he gave a few more slow thrusts, riding out his high. he laid on top of you, his sweaty forehead pressed against your chest.

"fuck," he breathed, pulling out of you. his hands pushed himself up, his eyes staring down at your face. "are you okay?" he asked softly. you smiled, "more than okay."

he pulled out, grabbing the nearest blanket and rubbing in between your legs with it. "my beautiful girl," he whispered.

you yawned, cuddling into his chest as he laid down next to you. his hand ran up and down your back, his lips kissing the top of your head.

"i'm really sorry for hurting you." "its okay," you mumbled, "you didn't mean to," you added, reassuring him.

"still," he sighed. "how about i run you a nice bath, hm?" he asked. you nodded, watching him walk to the bathroom.

a smile took over your face, thinking about the amazing boyfriend you have.

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @etvar12 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolho @sturniolowhore @imwetforyourmom @novasturniolo03 @spencerstits @junovrsmp4 @breeloveschris @skyslondon @stars4chratt @monkeyscientist22

[conchcronch]

Kinktober 2024: Day 8

WC: 1406

Summary: No matter how rough he is in bed, how tightly you’re bound, how swiftly you’re smacked, he’ll always be his most gentle in the hours after.

His hands were on you before your orgasm had fully tapered out. Your eyes were still blurry with tears, your bound legs aching and your cunt buzzing with overstimulation. You blinked, trying to clear your eyes so you could watch how he pulled at the deep purple knots that decorated your body. When his eyes catch your gaze, the corner of his lips soften, the closest thing to a smile you get. “Do you need anything?” Was the first thing from his lips. He watched as you furrowed your brow, trying to find words, any words but eventually opting to just shake your head.

He pulled at the knots on your legs first, knowing they would likely be the source of most of your discomfort, bound in a bent position so you were forcibly spread for him. You watched his gaze, with every loosened knot he flicked his eyes back up to you, making sure you weren’t silently requesting something. When one leg was untied, he guided it straight, his fingers running along the indents in your plush thighs as he rested your leg outstretched on the bed. He turned to your other leg, repeating the action on untying the expertly tied knots that he had spent what felt like hours tying as he teased you for twice as long. He tossed the rope onto the bedspread, crawling onto the bed and guiding you into an upright sitting position as he began working on your arms that were bound behind your back. He watched you wiggle your toes, his hands working blindly as he trained his eyes on you. “My love, did you lose feeling?” His voice was emotionless, but inside anxiety began to bubble.

“No” your voice was ragged, it sounded how you felt.

“Are you sure?” You nodded, flexing your legs and leaning your body against his.

“I’m sure.” He hummed, about as convinced as he would allow, mentally noting how he was going to feel along your legs for any cold spots that could illude to blood flow issues. The room fell silent again, your arms eventually freed from behind you before Mihawk shifted off the bed again, tossing the ropes over the small bench at the foot of the bed to be inspected, oiled and coiled. He ducked into the on suite for a second, returning as the sound of running water filled the room, in his hand was a tub of something along with a glass of water that was promptly handed to you. He grabbed a black silk robe, typing it around his waist, laying a matching one on the bed for you.

“Do you want it on now, or after?” He unscrewed the lid of the tub, the smell of coconut filling your nose as you shifted to sit up more, the plush pillows behind you making not falling asleep a difficult task.

“What’s that?” You moved your head, trying to get a peek at whatever was inside as he moved to perch on the edge of the bed beside you, moving the tub so you could look at the thick, milky white substance inside.

“Coconut oil,” he paused, waiting for you to make some sort of gesture to allow him to move forward, but you were confused. This had been your first bondage experience, your first BDSM experience really, so you were taking things as they came, learning as much as you could, both about the art and yourself. ”For the wax.” He allowed his eyes to slip down your body, drips of dried black wax peppered your skin in a way that even now, he found his body begin to ache for you.

You allowed yourself to look down at your body, between the wax and the imprints of the ropes you thought you looked like a mess, but in Mihawk’s eyes, you had never looked so beautiful. Your hair was tousled, cheeks pink, your body wax splattered and a mix of hickies and light bruises peppered your skin. “Gods,” Your ran shaky fingers through your hair, trying to push your hair back in a way that didn’t look completely awful “I must look horrible.” He noticed the way you pulled your legs up against your body, your arms wrapping around your shins in an attempt to cover yourself before he could put your thoughts at ease.

“Quite the opposite my little rabbit,” with a gentle hand he pressed against your thighs, not hard enough to push but enough to guide your legs away from your body “you look absolutely stunning.” You could feel his seed begin to ooz out of you, the feeling making you grimace as he gathered a small amount of coconut oil on his finger, rubbing it between his palms before running them over your body carefully. “If this hurts, or is too much, just tell me.” Slowly he works his hands over to your breasts, the wax falling from your skin and onto the bed. He did his best to not linger on your nipples, knowing they were likely over sensitive from hours of teasing, your almost silent whimper confirming that. His hands avoided your most intimate parts, despite the amount of wax that had dripped from your pubis down along your outer lips, he wanted to give that area as much time untouched as he could, opting instead to rub down your thighs. He added a bit more pressure along your inner thighs, knowing your muscles would be sore from being in such a difficult position for so long, a low moan slipping from your relaxed lips.

When all the wax was gone and you were left smelling like a tropical breeze you laid back into his pillows, your eyes fluttering shut for only a second before you felt his hand on your cheek. “I’ve run you a bath, but if you want to get some sleep it can wait until the morning.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, unable to resist you.

”No,” You shook your head, your eyes opening and meeting his. “A bath sounds really nice.” Before you could say anything else, he slipped one arm under your knees, the other behind your back, picking you up like you weighed less then Yoru and carrying you into his bathroom.

The main light was off overhead, the only light coming from the partially covered lights above the sink, the room smelled faintly of roses and the water has a few bubbles resting on top. He knelt down, helping you stand with a hand on your hip and the other taking your hand so you could step into the tub, the warm water feeling absolutely divine against your tormented limbs. You tipped your head back, your neck following the curve of the edge of the clawfoot tub, your eyes opening to see him about to close the door.

“Dracule” His first name slipped so easily from your lips, and clearly the sound of his rarely used given name stopping him in his tracks. “Why are you leaving?” He stepped back, opening the door with relaxed expression on his face.

”You need to relax.”

“And you don’t?” You pulled a dripping hand from the water, holding it outstretched towards him. “Please” He exhaled through his nose, one hand pulling at the tie of his robe before hanging it up on the back of the door. His naked form was nothing short of exquisite, as though it was chiseled from a block of the finest marble across the seas. You couldn’t help but notice a single hickey on his neck, something that had gotten you a swift slap to your most cunt, almost as though he didn’t wear the mark with pride. You leaned forward, pulling your legs against your chest to give him ample room to sit behind you, his arms quickly encircling your waist and tugging you back against him. The feeling of your back against his firm chest, his heart beating steadily against you was enough to lull you to sleep. His even breathes mimicking your own, his hands resting on your belly and his lips occasionally pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

“Get some sleep my love, I’ll be right here.” His words were quiet enough that you almost thought it was your imagination, but when you felt his thumb stroke idol lines on your stomach you knew he wasn’t going anywhere until you were awake.

[katelynnwrites]

Still Worship This Love (Even If It’s A False God) | Laura Freigang

warnings: some serious smut so read at your own discretion

word count: 4004

summary: your girlfriend gets her turn to take an intimate set of photos

a/n: requested, the long awaited part two to Got Lovestruck (Went Straight To My Head), it can also be read as a standalone :)

Your girlfriend’s possessive.

You’ve known that from the very beginning of your relationship.

The extent of which you’re only just starting to find out.

‘My girlfriend.’ She introduces every chance she gets.

She holds your hand everywhere you both go and if her hand is not in yours, it’s in your back pocket. The blonde makes it known to your mutual friends, teammates and fans that you are hers.

The hickies she marks you up with makes it known to everyone else.

None of that is new.

What is new is the way Laura’s got you in her national team jersey and nothing else.

Freigang is the name prominently displayed on the back. Her number is printed there too.

‘Look at the camera.’ She instructs.

You do as she asks and she presses the shutter button down.

The Polaroid camera spits the film out and the striker hums in satisfaction. She sets it aside, fixing her gray blue eyes on you again.

‘Spread your knees for me.’

You’re helpless to resist her, parting your legs and giving her exactly what she wants.

The striker snaps another photo, the click of the camera making a rush of arousal shoot through your body.

‘Lau.’ You moan and she smirks.

‘You’re so wet. Is it because of me?’

Your cheeks flush red and the blonde laughs, settling her camera down for a moment.

She tilts your chin upwards, pressing her lips onto yours for a moment.

‘Don’t tease Laura. It’s not very nice.’ You pant when she pulls away.

The blonde looks even cockier than before, if at all possible.

You think you fall even harder for her when she says, ‘I love you like this. So beautiful and just for me.’

She gives you one more heated kiss before returning to her Polaroid camera and snapping a close up of your soaking cunt.

‘Laura.’ You moan.

Under her watchful gaze, you squirm on the bed.

Back in her usual position as the one in charge, she is content to make you wait.

Until you physically can’t anymore, begging, ‘Lau please.’

Your girlfriend quirks her eyebrow upwards, ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Touch me please. Please Laura please.’

You fight the urge to play with your own clit, having been explicitly told by your girlfriend not to. She had wanted to take photos of how wet you are first.

Laura snaps another photo, relishing in how desperate you look.

‘But why? You’re practically dripping already and I haven’t even touched you yet.’

‘Please.’ You whimper and it is the way your voice fractionally breaks that has the German woman giving in.

Carefully putting her camera aside, she swings her leg over your body and grinds down.

You groan immediately, at the feel of her hips pressing against yours.

The blonde grins and palms your breast through the material of her jersey, causing you to whimper.

Your nipples are sensitive and they rub up against the fabric. Laura seems to sense how pleasurable it feels for you because she repeats the action, getting you to whimper her name before deciding to switch things up.

Her fingers pinch your nipples, twisting and pulling them slightly so that you gasp sharply.

‘Laura.’ You moan.

Your girlfriend leans up to kiss you, murmuring, ‘You drive me crazy you know? The way you say my name. The noises you make when I fuck you.’

As she speaks, the blonde slips two of her fingers into you.

‘Laura!’ You cry out.

The blonde sounds entirely satisfied as she coos, ‘Just like that.’

She thrusts her fingers a few times, her thumb finding your clit as she sets up a good rhythm.

Your knees tremble and she keeps kissing you.

When she brushes up against that special spot inside you, you have to break the kiss in favour of gasping.

The forward is very capable of stealing the air right out of your lungs and she delights in proving that over and over again.

Laura pushes another finger into you, letting you feel the stretch. Her thumb presses down on your swollen clit and she swallows your ensuing moan by capturing your lips with hers.

‘I want to try something. Can I try something new with you?’ She asks against your lips.

Your girlfriend sits back, giving you time to think.

It’s not unusual for the Eintracht Frankfurt player to bring kinks or toys into your relationship. She always makes sure you are comfortable beforehand and so far, you have been okay with everything she has wanted to try. You have loved it even, especially when it gives Laura pleasure.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath and when you do, you softly ask, ‘What do you have in mind?’

The blonde hesitantly bites her lip before going into the bathroom and returning with a small bag.

She hands it to you and you glance at her with some confusion, ‘Schatz?’

‘Look inside.’

So you do, a small surprised exhale leaving you.

To check if they really are what you think they are, you tip the contents of the bag out onto your palm.

Coloured glass butt plugs. In a variety of sizes and all with two initials embossed on them. The letters L and F, Laura’s initials.

‘Want to fill you up. To make you so full for me.’

You shiver at your girlfriend’s words. There is no denying how appealing that idea is to you.

It’s clear as day in how you practically beg, ‘Yes. Please Lau fill me up. Make me yours.’

The blonde moans, ‘Fuck you’re so good to me. So good for me.’

She can’t resist picking up her Polaroid camera and taking a photo of you, catching precisely how needy you look.

‘We’ll start small okay?

Laura selects the littlest of the plugs, a little pink one.

As she coats it liberally in lube, she gently says, ‘Remember to use your safe word if it becomes too much. The second it becomes too much, you let me know and we’ll stop.’

You nod quickly, completely focused on the delicate motions of your girlfriend’s fingers.

It’s almost mesmerising and the heat between your legs pool.

The German woman finishes what she’s doing and then easily slips back into her role of being in charge.

‘Get on your stomach for me.’

You obey immediately, the muscles in your ass tensing involuntarily.

Laura hands you a pillow to prop your head up against.

Despite her dominance, your girlfriend can’t help showing how deeply she cares.

She presses a kiss onto your back and then carefully runs her index finger up from your clit and through your crack.

The striker feels your gathered wetness coat her skin and it’s a lot but not enough for what she wants to do to you.

So she squeeze a generous portion out of lube onto her palm, letting the substance warm for a few seconds before she spreads it between your ass cheeks.

You can’t help the gasp that escapes, already so sensitive to the blonde’s touch.

She massages it in and you whine.

You need her in you and you need it now.

‘Schatz.’ You plead.

Laura grins and takes pity on you, pressing the plug against your ass.

You still immediately, the penetration overwhelming your senses for a minute.

Clenching around the glass plug experimentally, you find that you don’t mind the intrusion. In fact, as you squeeze around it again and again, you realise that you rather like it.

Your girlfriend gives you a minute to adapt, occupying herself by pushing her jersey upwards and scattering kisses onto your now exposed back.

‘I’m good Lau.’ You breathe, giving her the go ahead to do whatever she has planned next.

Experimentally, the Eintracht Frankfurt player presses down on the plug.

You groan out loud, tightening around the toy.

The plug has a flared base and Laura tugs on it lightly, fucking you with it.

Your fingers grip onto the pillow and your thighs quiver at the pleasure.

‘You look so perfect like this.’ Laura praises, her own cunt beginning to flood with arousal.

There’s the familiar click of her camera and you moan again as you hear it.

‘Can you take a bigger one? Can you let me stretch your gorgeous ass out more?’

‘Yes!’ You eagerly answer.

With some difficulty, you relax enough for your girlfriend to pull the toy out. It comes free with a wet noise that has you blushing a bright red.

Laura resists the urge to chuckle, instead opting for, ‘Don’t move.’

She looks over her plugs and her hand hovers over them before she picks out a blue one. This one is two sizes bigger and you give a quiet whimper as you see the one she’s chosen.

‘I said stay still. Or I won’t let you come.’

Right away, you turn back around.

Trembling with anticipation, you bite your lip as you wait for her to spread lube over the glass butt plug.

Laura takes her time, noting that the suspense seems to be making you more aroused.

She snaps a quick photo before putting her camera and the developing film aside.

With both hands free, she spreads your ass cheeks apart, placing the blunt head of the toy against your hole.

It’s much thicker than the one before but with the copious amounts of lube and steady pressure, it begins to slip inside you.

Your tight ring of muscle has to stretch to accomodate the plug and the burn has you groaning Laura’s name.

‘Full. So full.’ You pant when it’s halfway in.

The blonde pauses. The plug is certainly bigger than the previous one but she had thought you could take it, given how easily you had taken the earlier one.

Realising why your girlfriend is stalling, you assure her, ‘Don’t stop Lau. Feels nice too, I promise.’

Your pussy is aching when Laura resumes applying a firm pressure to the plug.

She’s slow about it but eventually, it slips in.

You cry out as it does and the striker heaps praise onto you.

‘You look so beautiful. In my jersey and made so full by me. I love my initials in you.’

The last part has you moaning, ‘Am yours. Always will be.’

Laura moans herself, ‘You don’t know what you’re doing to me.’

Her fingers play with the plug in you, each nudge eliciting a whimper or whine from your lips.

It builds up and the blonde smiles knowingly. She relishes in it, knowing that you are coming close to your climax.

She is proven right shortly, when you choke out, ‘Please may I come?’

The movement of the plug in you has you on the edge and you intentionally clench around it.

Instead of deigning to reply to you, Laura presses her palm harshly against the base of the plug.

It forces it deeper into you and you sob, entirely taken by surprise.

There is no describing the sort of sensory input that rushes through your body. Your clit pulses and the muscles in your ass flutter around the toy involuntarily.

Tears form in your eyes and your fingers grip onto the pillow desperately.

‘Laura. Laura. Laura.’ You mumble hazily, lost in the influx of sexual gratification.

Vaguely, you register the clicking of a camera.

It continues for a few minutes until your girlfriend’s attention returns to you and she gives the butt plug a brief wiggle, eliciting a wrecked moan from you.

Your moaning grows in volume when the German woman moves her fingers to your clit, drawing firm circles on it.

‘Stunning. You’re so stunning.’

Laura slips her two of her fingers into you and your ensuing cry is so loud that your girlfriend is glad that the neighbours are away.

She stops playing with your butt plug just to briefly pinch her own clit. It’s beyond swollen and Laura thinks she could come just from hearing you moan her name.

The striker scissors her fingers in you, the double stretch causing you to arch your back.

Laura groans at the feel of you around her fingers. She can feel your walls trembling around them and from experience knows that you’re close to coming a second time.

She pushes both the butt plug and her fingers in deeper, timing her thrusts perfectly so that they form an almost punishing rhythm for you.

You’re unconsciously rocking your hips back and forth, trying to meet your girlfriend’s thrusts to gain the most pleasure out of her actions.

The blonde can’t help adding a third finger, your cunt practically dripping for her.

‘Lau!’ You choke out.

‘Fuck you look so beautiful.’ The striker breathes.

She’s sure you are a work of art. The light sheen of sweat on your body has got her jersey sticking to your skin, both your pussy and ass a mess because of your copious arousal and Laura’s generous use of lube.

Your girlfriend knows heaven’s a thing. She goes there when she touches you.

The specific noises you make, the facial expressions you have when you orgasm…she is confident that only she can draw them from you.

She is in love with worshipping you. Your hips, your lips, everything about you.

The Eintracht Frankfurt player is drawn out of her reverie by the strained moan of her name, accompanied by your uncontrolled clenching around her fingers and toy.

‘Going to come. Please schatz.’ You beg.

Laura smirks. You’re right where she wants you.

‘No.’

You still in a desperate effort to obey her.

But you can’t stop her from teasingly stroking your puffy bud with her thumb. It’s almost too much, pushing you to the brink of your control.

‘Laura please.’ You beg, knowing better than coming without her permission.

Especially when she is in such a dominant mood.

‘No. You won’t come until I am finished with my photos.’

She slips her fingers out of you, eliciting a pitiful whimper.

The German woman is abundantly aware of the way your cunt pulses around nothing, having been stretched open by her.

‘Be good.’ She warns as she picks up her camera once again.

You focus on your breathing, on the pillow beneath your chin. On anything but Laura’s fingers skimming over your skin.

There’s the tell tale click of her Polaroid camera, followed by a whirring sound as it spits out the film.

Your girlfriend takes a particularly close one, wanting to focus on her initials embossed on the plug inside you.

To her, it is a worthy investment and it crosses her mind that she might have to make more similar ones.

The thought of using a new dildo or vibrator on you, with her name on it is an enticing one.

‘Get on your hands and knees.’ She instructs suddenly.

Gingerly, you do as she asks. Not because you’re unwilling too but rather because you’re hyper focused on the movement of the plug within you.

You are so sensitive and as you move, it sends little jolts of pleasure up your spine.

The base of the toy fits snugly against the rim of your hole and Laura can’t help twisting it sharply, just so she can capture the look on your face as she does so.

With a simple press of the shutter button, it’s done and the forward gets to savour your ruined expression as it develops.

‘Please Lau. Please.’ You beg shamelessly.

Your girlfriend hums, ‘Help get me off first.’

Her blue gray eyes meet yours and you nod rapidly.

‘Sit up. I want to come on your thigh.’

You let out a moan, changing positions so that you’re seated on the edge of the bed.

‘Fuck.’ You gasp, as the plug drives into you.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to push the sensations away. Laura said not to come so you can’t.

The cocky look on your girlfriend’s face lets you know that she had planned for it.

She kisses you, her hands cradling your face before she sits herself down on your thigh.

You both moan, the blonde immediately beginning to rub her clit up and down.

‘You’re so good to me.’ She mumbles, when you brace your hands against her hips and tense your muscles so that she has a firmer surface to stimulate herself against.

Laura’s swollen clit is exquisitely compressed by your thigh and she holds onto your shoulders, panting, ‘Feel so good against me too.’

Her motions grow more frantic and you leave little love bites on her chest, nipping and kissing her delicate skin.

Your fingers dig into her hips as you hold her steady and the striker cries out when you suck one of her nipples into your mouth.

You swirl your tongue around it till it stiffens. Then you repeat the process on her other nipple.

Your girlfriend groans as you do so, her arousal coating your thigh.

There is so much of it and Laura’s breathing begins to grow shaky. Her grip on your shoulders tighten and she lets out a soft grunt as she works to reach her climax.

‘Are you close?’

‘Almost!’ She pants.

You smile, pushing the blonde’s sweaty hair aside to gain access to her neck.

There, you place lingering kisses and whisper about how much you love her, how much you love her riding your thigh until she sucks in a harsh breath.

Your striker trembles through her orgasm and drops her head down on your shoulder.

She’s clearly tired so you help her out, nudging your thigh upwards so that her swollen clit gets extra friction.

It works, the forward moaning your name as she keeps rolling her hips onto your thigh.

Laura lets out a quiet whimper as the last of her high crashes down on her and you lean in to kiss her.

She initiates a second kiss by grabbing the collar of her jersey and pulling you even closer.

When the German woman breaks the kiss, her pretty eyes meet yours for a second before smiles and gets up.

‘Schatz?’

With the distraction of the Eintracht Frankfurt player's soaking pussy off your thigh, you’re now very much conscious of your own arousal.

Laura’s smile turns almost arrogant.

‘On your hands and knees for me.’

The plug within you shifts as you move and you fight the urge to play with it yourself.

‘Lau.’ You exhale shakily once you are in the position she asked of you.

‘My good girl.��� She praises, taking in the way your pink bud is still swollen.

Her gaze never leaves you as she states, ‘You know, I think my last name suits you very well.’

The former Penn State player allows herself another long moment to truly admire you in her jersey before she slips her finger between your folds.

You react beautifully and it’s to both your surprise when your build up comes much faster than usual.

Laura chalks it up to the long time you have spent suppressing your orgasm while you don’t even think about it, far too occupied with how your girlfriend’s attention has drifted to the butt plug.

She runs her fingers over her initials and then firmly tugs on it.

‘Laura!’ You moan and she continues manipulating it with one hand, the other slipping into your other hole.

She has two fingers knuckle deep inside you and she pushes them into you, over and over again.

‘You’re doing so well for me. Letting me stretch you open, letting me use you.’

The thoroughly sinful noise that escapes you at her words, has the forward savouring it and the rush of wetness that promptly coats her fingers.

She thinks you’ve come for a second but the way you begin to beg proves otherwise.

‘So close Lau. I gotta come, please can I come?’

Then she realises that you must really like being told how both your holes are being fucked by her.

She can’t help slipping a third finger into you as a reward.

‘Laura…’ You choke out.

You barely manage to stay on your hands and knees, your arms nearly giving out beneath you.

‘I need to come Lau. Please I-I can’t hold it.’

It’s so much, the constant waves of pleasure that your girlfriend delights in giving you.

As if to prove your point, the blonde curls her fingers inside you and you make a distressed whimper, your walls squeezing around her fingers uncontrollably.

Laura presses down hard on your butt plug and your clit.

‘Come then.’

You sob, unable to keep yourself on your knees this time.

Crying messily, you collapse onto the bed.

The striker keeps pumping her fingers in and out of you, intrinsically drawing out your climax for as long as she can until you reach behind and tap on her wrist frantically.

‘Too sensitive.’ You pant.

Laura gently withdraws her fingers immediately, placing delicate little kisses all over your back.

While your breathing settles, your girlfriend gets her camera out and uses the last of her film to capture the fucked out bliss on your face.

‘Absolutely beautiful.’ She murmurs as she looks through the viewfinder.

Then she keeps the Polaroid camera away properly and turns her full attention to you.

‘Are you okay baby?’

You’re still panting but you turn onto your side, smiling tiredly up at Laura.

‘Completely perfect.’

The blonde presses an affectionate kiss onto your forehead.

‘Roll over and tuck your knees up.’ She gently instructs.

It’s not easy because your body is sore but you manage.

Your girlfriend lightly taps on your ass, ‘Bear down for me.’

Groaning quietly, you try to get your muscles to cooperate.

Laura sees you struggling and grasps the plug carefully, pulling on it.

You gasp at the oversensitivity and strain harder, forcing the butt plug to finally slip out of you.

‘Good job.’ She praises, taking it and setting all the used toys aside to be cleaned.

Truly exhausted now, you flop down and starfish yourself out on the bed.

The striker grins, leaning over you and kissing you.

‘Ich liebe dich.’ She murmurs against your lips.

‘I love you too.’ You promise.

Full of adoration, your girlfriend brushes sweaty strands of hair out of your face.

‘Do you want me to run you a bath? Or just clean you up with a warm washcloth?’

‘Washcloth please schatz. I think I’d fall asleep in the bath.’ You laugh.

Laura giggles, sneaking in another kiss.

‘Washcloth it is then.’

******

The German woman knows she can be silly and possessive. Even after the night you've shared, she can’t help the immense self-satisfaction that swells within her as she watches you.

You’re wearing her hoodie, eating breakfast that she made, in her bed, with hickeys she has generously marked you up with.

‘Lau.’ You amusedly tease, eyeing her knowingly.

‘I can’t help it.’ She shrugs with pink tinted cheeks.

Chuckling, you get her to settle down next to you.

‘Eat schatz.’

‘No. No. I made it for you.’ She protests.

The smile on your face grows bigger, the kind of smile that you reserve just for Laura.

‘We can share. Come on, you know I can’t finish all these eggs and fruit.’

With a fond roll of her eyes, your girlfriend gives in.

She lets out a contented sigh as she chews on the mouthful of eggs that you feed her.

Thoughtfully, she says, ‘I’m a brilliant cook.’

‘A brilliant photographer too.’ You add, suddenly growing shy at the thought of the photos the blonde had taken of you.

They’re kept safely by her now, just like your set of hers are by you.

Completely sure of what’s on your mind, your girlfriend uses a finger to delicately tilt your face towards her.

‘Only when I have the most beautiful of subjects.’ She whispers.

There’s no hiding how intense your blush is after that and Laura giggles brightly, planting small kisses all over your face. Just to convey how incredibly much she loves you.

German Translations:

schatz - sweetheart

ich liebe dich - i love you

[sxfthannie]

His Angel

↦ pairing: idol!coups x idol!reader

↦ summary: you are a kpop idol with such pure image that everyone would call you an angel. Choi Seungcheol who took a liking to you wondered if you'd still look like an angel once he breaks you.

↦ warnings: coups and reader are not in a relationship, reader is a virgin, usage of pet name (angel), dom!coups, sub!reader, unprotected sex, oral, fingering, rough(?) sex, includes reader crying a little during sex.

↦ word count: 1.3K

↦ part 2

You were with no doubt a very soft spoken person. Both idols and fans alike agreed and often referred to you as an “angel”, acknowledging that it didn’t only apply to your personality but also your visuals. You had such a pretty face with a calm expression all the time, Choi Seungcheol wondered how you’d look if he ever breaks you.

And he did.

“If only they could see the state you’re in right now.” A light chuckle escaped his lips as he laced his fingers through your hair, watching as you sucked his cock. This was your first time and he was very well aware that you weren’t even that good at what you’re doing right now. If it was anyone else, he would’ve already gotten up and left but what had him turned on and on the verge of cumming into your mouth was the satisfaction feeling of having your pretty little lips; that spoke nothing but innocence, around his thick cock. “Fuck.” He pushed your head lower on his cock, your nails digging into the flesh of his thighs at the feeling of his tip on the back of your throat as he released himself inside you.

“Swallow.” He demands.

Once you do, a soft “good girl” slips out of his tongue as he pulls you up from the ground to lay you on his bed before pressing his plump lips against yours. His fingertips trailed down the outline of your body before finally reaching your exposed clit. He presses his fingers harder against you that had you whimpering into the kiss. Breaking away from the kiss, he pushes his middle finger into you, his pointing finger follows right after. He planted a kiss against your forehead as you slightly whimpered in pain of having his fingers inside you.

“Gosh, you can’t even handle my fingers, are you sure you can take my cock?” He teased while moving his fingers in and out of you, preparing you for what’s coming next. “I can,

I can take you.” You were desperate for his cock, for him, and he knows it.

Seungcheol laughs a genuine laugh out of endearment. “I know you can, angel.” He says, his fingers curling inside you and hitting the right spot. “You have to.” And he keeps curling his fingers at the same spot, knowing damn well that it had you arching your back for him. Once he decided it was enough preparing you, he moves into a better position on top of you, lining up the tip of his cock against your slit. “Wait, you’re not using condoms?” He raises his eyebrow at your question. “I’ve waited for this moment for too long. I can't bother myself with condoms, angel.”

He let out a soft sigh as he saw you hesitating. “Wait for a while then. I probably have some–”

“It’s alright. Let’s just do it like this.” You cut him off. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He wastes no more than a second to line up the tip of his cock against you once again. “Okay?” He questions, to which you nod your head. You expected him to push himself into you little by little but god were you so wrong. His thrust had you gasping, hands gripping the bed sheets below you tightly.

He places another reassuring kiss on your forehead and wipes away the little amount of tears that formed due to the sudden pain. “I just had to see that expression on you.” He only gives you a few seconds to recover before he starts thrusting in and out of you, every hard thrust of his leaving you on adrenaline. “Wait…s-slow down.”

“Slow down?” He repeats. “Angel, I came here to break you. If you really want me to stop then you know the safe word?” With your head still spinning from receiving all the pleasure, you hurry to fish out the memory of both of you deciding on a 'cute' safe word moments before sex.

You know you probably wouldn’t be using it because it’s Choi Seungcheol we’re talking about. You’d gladly and shamelessly take everything he has to offer.

“Cherries.” You reply. “Yes, cherries” is all he says before increasing his pace. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers together as he brings it up to his lips to place gentle kisses along your knuckles.

One thing you learned was that his gestures and words does not match the way he fucks you.

He leans down, lips finding your breast as he rolls his tongue around your nipple while his fingers fiddle around with the other side.

“Cheol.!” The moans of his name coming forth your lips and nails digging on his shoulders only turned him on more. “God, you’re so fucking hot.” Having you wrap your legs around him, he moved from your breasts to your neck, leaving a bite mark on your skin which he knew you were going to get in trouble for if anyone ever finds out but right now, he couldn’t care less and neither did you.

“You like being fucked like this on your first time?” You could only nod your head, but Seungheol wasn’t having any of those.

“Speak. Use those pretty lips of yours.”

“Yes..I l-love it.” As soon as you manage to choke out those words, his fingers immediately find themselves inside your mouth. He presses his fingers on your tongue, making you gag and causing more tears to form in the corner of your eyes.

“Suck.”

You did as told, rolling your tongue around his two digits while looking up at him through your blurry vision.

“You definitely need more practice but at least you’re a tad bit better than before.” Even though you were self aware of your lacking skills in this particular matter, hearing it directly from him made your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “No need to be embarrassed.” He read you like a book. “It’d be my pleasure to teach these things to you, my angel.”

He said my angel.

“Are you about to come?” He asked as he felt your walls clenching tighter around his cock. A soft “yes” leaves your lips and Seungcheol places a kiss on your tear stricken cheek. “Do it. You don’t hold back anything.” After a few more thrusts, you let yourself in on the pleasure. Seungcheol continues to fuck you through your high, chasing his own. More whimpers and tears escape you at the over stimulation and fortunately, he released inside you not long after, his thrusts finally slowing down.

Pulling his cock out of you, he very lightly pressed his thumb against your clit and let out a genuine innocent laugh as you wriggled away from his touch.

“I knew it.” He spoke, tucking your hair away from your face and wiping away your tears. “You’re the prettiest when you look like this,

or I dare say only now you look like a real angel.” Blood rushes up your cheeks at his words so you try covering your face with your hands but he was quick to stop you. Pinning your hands above your head, your heart skips a beat while he takes another closer look at your face. “I haven’t even fucked you that hard considering it’s your first time but look at you, already so drained out.”

“Not hard enough you say?” He nods.

“Next time, it's gonna be rougher, angel.” He says before locking his lips together with yours in a much softer kiss than the previous ones. You pulled away from the kiss, slightly pushing on his chest to get a better view of his face.

“What makes you think I’m gonna let you fuck me again?” You question and he laughs. “What then? Are you going to say no to me? I'm sure you won’t.” You tilted your head. “Again, why are you so sure?” He flashes you a sweet smile, fingers fiddling with your earlobe.

“Angel, do you think I never noticed your love stricken face whenever you see me?”

[fatesundress]

⭑ observations ii. tom riddle x reader

part i here.

summary. two weeks after your last encounter with tom shatters all of your previous observations, tensions are high, and eventually, something's gotta give. (it's tom. he’s giving head)

tags. smut (so. so much. minors BE GONE TO WHENCE YOU CAME!), fem anatomy + reader is referred to as a woman by someone, fingering, cunnilingus, piv, again implied tall!tom or short!reader (take it however you prefer), jealous tom does not understand friendship but then again neither does reader apparently, a little wine is had, the room of requirement is used shamelessly as a plot device, did i mention smut, i’ve lost my mind etc etc.

note. this is a part two, so go ahead and read the first part and come back if you'd like :) obligatory preface: it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also woahh was not expecting the love on my last post so thank you! i'm still trying to figure this whole acc out so support, questions, (requests? never done those before) anything is appreciated ♡

word count. 6.3k

The next two weeks are agony. You don’t, in fact, stop meeting with Godefrey to study, because you do, in fact, still need a good mark in Ancient Runes and for all his faults he can reach the tallest shelves and he’s a faster writer than you. Also, Tom Riddle is fantastic with his hands but this does not make him God.

You find pureblood politics a bit archaic. You find muggle courting a bit stifling. This leaves very little space for what took place between you and Tom in the middle of a corridor two weeks ago (you can’t stop wincing at how insane that sounds) and very little patience for his utterly original and not-at-all entitled request that you halt your studies with Godefrey. Godefrey doesn’t stick his hands up your skirts while the two of you are studying, doesn’t silence your gasps with a shush and a finger to your mouth, doesn’t — wouldn’t (you’re so imaginative when you want to be) — tell you to keep reading as his thumb draws circles between your legs, tell you to repeat the words that get caught in your throat, tell you how much he likes it when your eyes go dumb and glassy and all you can say is his name. So, really, Tom should have nothing to worry about.

“I swear,” Selwyn says, picking at a plate you don’t think she’s actually eaten anything off with how distracted she is, “he’s looked over here at least three times.”

You don’t dare glance at who you know she’s talking about. “You’re obsessed.”

Pot. Kettle. Whatever.

“Are you sure you didn’t do something to upset him in Potions? Didn’t botch something that might mar his perfect record?”

You flick her forehead and she scowls. “I’m not an idiot, Selwyn. I handle myself just as well in Potions as he does — he wouldn’t —” Wouldn’t have complimented your rapport if that weren’t true, wouldn’t have said you communicate efficiently, make a good pair, probably wouldn’t have — fingered you in the hallway? — yes, that too. Slipped your mind. So easy to forget.

You take a long exhale, and smile impassively at her. “I didn’t botch anything, trust me.”

She finally takes a bite of food. “Maybe I did something…”

And then she’s lost in thought again, eating now, at least, and you shake your head softly as you watch what are likely a million different theories flitting through her head.

“Morning,” Tom says to you when you enter Potions after breakfast, a delicate smile tugging at his lips.

You have, of course, trained for this. 

It’s your fifth — sixth? — time sharing a table with him since that night and it is somehow easier by nature and harder by anticipation (of what, you have no idea) every time. The first was terrible. Unsalvageable and without a silver lining. It had taken almost an hour that morning to charm the violent hues of red and purple spanning the column of your throat, and ultimately, the marks were so persistent you’d forgone the glamours and decided to just wear a turtleneck. You’d been fortunate it was completely inconspicuous to wear such a thing in December, but that was about all there’d been to be grateful for. You hadn’t been able to look at Tom all class and his hand had brushed yours once to take a phial from you and you’d flinched so sharply it would have shattered on the floor if he hadn’t caught it. And he’d smiled, like he’s smiling now, a soft, “Careful,” that honestly, for a short moment, made you want him dead.

Now you could speak just fine, look him in the eyes in practised intervals, and almost, impressively, make articulate conversation with him again. Make stupid comments about Slughorn and Lestrange and bear the weight of his grin knowing it was there for you.

His, he’d called you. A very funny thing.

“Morning,” you answer on a smiling sigh, sleepy but jovial all the same. 

You deserve applause for this.

“Tired?”

“Mhm — Essays for Ancient Runes are due Friday and it’s been keeping us up all night.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve yet to ascertain. Your research has been put temporarily on hold, scattered and splintered by the revelation that your first observation was, admittedly, a little bit off, and you have no means of figuring out a look like that when you can’t even begin to figure out anything else.

“Has it?” he asks, a tinge less friendly.

“Well,” you say, grinding the lacewing flies, “that’s commonplace, isn’t it? You take all sorts of advanced classes, I’m sure you understand the work it takes.”

“...Hm.”

That’s it. That’s all you get from him.

And if Selwyn’s concern over you botching your work in Potions wasn’t already, obviously dispelled, the glee on Slughorn’s face as he assesses your and Tom’s cauldron should do it.

“Brilliant! Just brilliant!” He claps a hand over Tom’s back, regarding you both with pride so thick it clouds his eyes, like he's drifted into a revery of the future (you and Tom, you expect, are his most prized graduates, making history under his name, proving his immense wisdom) before he appears to return to Earth. “Ten points between the two of you, hm? Very, very good — though, of course, no surprises there!”

He chuckles to himself as he evaluates the other students, and you catch a horrified wheeze of Godefrey’s name (bless his heart) as one of the cauldrons in the back begins to sputter and froth.

You look to Tom with some droll little comment at making it to the end of term with top marks, but his gaze is burning into Godefrey’s table in such a way you wouldn’t be surprised if it was what was causing his cauldron to boil.

Well. Perhaps not, then.

You and Godefrey hand in your essay that Friday with more relief than apprehension — you both decide it’s quite good — and you laugh loudly and breathlessly as he picks you up and thanks you a thousand times, spinning you until you’re dizzy. You refrain from making any promises to attend his Quidditch games, but he vows to let you have the snitch he catches.

And Slughorn, you come to find, was not exaggerating his elation at your skill. After trotting after you on your walk back from Ancient Runes to invite you to the last Slug Club dinner of the year, your spirits are high with the blissful satisfaction of a job well done and a night to celebrate it with.

You can breathe, finally, when it’s the last week of school before Christmas break and Selwyn’s zipping the back of a last-minute dress you purchased in Hogsmeade.

“Gorgeous,” Selwyn says with a grin. “Wish this school would have a bloody ball so I could really dress you up.”

“Buy a doll, Selwyn; you can dress them however you like.”

“You are such a —”

You burst into laugher, swatting her wand away as she pokes your side with it. 

“Just — go then, before I hex you.”

“All right, all right!” you concede, arms raised in surrender. “Don’t ruin all your hard work now.”

“Oh,” she calls on your way out the door. You turn and there’s a mischievous look in her eyes as she tucks her wand back in her pocket. “And do tell me before I leave tomorrow if Riddle stares at you all night.”

You groan as if it’s a truly abominable thing to imagine. Riddle, staring with those dark eyes of his? You, the centre of his attention? Ghastly. You daresay you’d never recover from the horror of it.

“Don’t leave before I tell you how remarkably uneventful a night it was,” you say with a sidelong glare, and leave before she can edge in the final word.

You have no idea what a Slug Club supper typically consists of, but you imagine for Christmas he’s gone a little further with his festivities. His office is glittering in hues of green and red and fleecy, snow-dappled gold. The lights overheard (some similar charm to the one in the Great Hall but a tad less complex, you think) drip and then vanish into the air like squeezed berries, and the berries — served with pastries and ice cream — taste like they must be enchanted with something.

Selwyn was right that the standard dress isn’t quite formal enough for a ball, but it’s… formal. The boys are in clean-cut dress robes and the girls are in fine gowns of different lengths. By the overwhelming number of them you recall being archetypes of Slytherin pureblood fanaticism, it makes sense how expensive they all look. You yourself brush up nicely, if not a bit more frugally, but you haven’t been to an event like this at the school yet, and that’s exciting on its own.

It’s another degree of training (is there going to be a marathon? Are you at war?), a step up from your preparations before Potions every other day, to be ready when Tom Riddle enters the room a respectable five minutes late with a gleam about him more captivating than any of the lights.

“Ah, Tom!” Slughorn exclaims, and ushers him into a seat you remark before Tom is even in it is discomfitingly near to yours. “We’re all here at last… Supper, then? Hope you aren’t too full already, I’ve got the House Elves running laps!”

You’re spared Tom’s closeness by a Ravenclaw couple sat in the chairs between you, their hands clasped under the table while they sip wine from their goblets, and you only realise the length of your observation when Tom glances at you from the spot over, and you startle yourself into reaching for your own goblet and pretending to enjoy Slughorn’s bitter wine.

You eat. You listen to cluttered, unending tales of Slughorn’s time at school and how he earned his post. You drink, and then you regret not drinking before eating because there’s only a very light, very nice buzz that warms you when you finish your cup, and the Ravenclaw couple is — oh, wait, it isn’t just them — they’re standing up to dance as a gramophone sparks to life and a low, dulcet instrumental begins to play. There are now two notably empty seats separating you from Tom.

What had you said this night would be? Blissful satisfaction? 

You couldn’t blame Selwyn for suggesting you’d blundered Potions — you didn’t feel exceptionally smart right now.

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight,” Tom says, pulling the chair beside you.

Where is the bottle of wine? No. Nevermind. You behave regrettably enough sober.

You manage a simple, “And yet.”

“...And yet.” His lips quirk before he takes a drink from his goblet. 

You lament for a second that you’ve only actually kissed those lips once. They spent a great deal longer on your neck.

“Will you be here over break?” he asks, and it isn’t an unreasonable thing to ask, you suppose.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to know whether to expect you or not.”

Expect you… No, yes — revert to observation two: unusual is not an apt enough word for him.

It takes you a moment to conjure a response befitting polite dinner conversation. That is, after all, still what this is.

“I suppose you can. I’ll be busy, of course.”

Well, you didn’t say you conjured something good. It’s a big fat lie. Placating, vague, empty. And you suspect Tom knows that.

“Pity.”

Yes, he knows. He’s all quiet amusement again.

You stare off, satisfied to be left alone —

"And what is it that'll be taking so much of your time?"

“Well, I'm —” And now you have to build the lie — “I’ve told Godefrey I’ll attend to his Quidditch practise. Since the pitch isn’t in use.”

God, it’s so stupid it’s almost impressive — you don’t even know if Godefrey will be here over break, and you could have chosen any number of excuses that would pique Tom’s interest less than it’s apparently consistently piqued by the mention of your study partner. 

There’s that strange, indecipherable look again. Riddle is a perfect surname for him, you decide then, and you almost laugh at yourself for it, but that would probably not go over well should he ask what’s so funny.

“Have you, now? That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s hardly charity.”

“Hm, it’s kind of you to think so.”

You huff, tipping your goblet back to swallow the last meagre dregs of your wine.

“You look lovely.”

It’s just a little bit — just a tiny, straggling little bit of elderflower that captures your throat — and you cough into your goblet. “Thank — thank you.”

And, well, he looks lovely too. Obviously. Sickeningly so. You know little about his personal life but you’re positive he’s at least a half-blood, if not muggle-born, and it makes you wonder the influence of his renownedly plain black suit in a crowd of neat, long robes.

He manages with little effort to look better than all of them at their best.

His eyes drift over you appreciatively, quick enough not to be rude but — enough. (Enough that you daresay you might never recover from the horror of it.) You adjust under his gaze even when it’s situated on your face, far too heavy a thing for you to carry. “Does Godefrey call you lovely?”

What?

You blink at him, your mouth is probably open and you probably look stupid but he’s so… irritating. Yes, of course Godefrey calls you lovely. Godefrey tells you you’re the smartest woman he’s ever met (after his mother), and he drowns you with sherbet lemons at no cost, and he writes at the speed of light to match the quickness with which you recite your textbook, and none of it means anything. Tom is just —

“Unbelievable…”

He quirks a brow. “What was that?”

“I said you’re unbelievable, Riddle. Is it impossible for you to comprehend that I might have friends? That Godefrey is my friend?”

“Well, memory serves me right that you seemed a bit confused on the conventions of friendship last you mentioned it. Do forgive my uncertainty.”

He — that was —

“Well, that’s because we are not friends.”

“No.” He leans in. “We are not.”

You push your chair from the table with all the grace you can manage for such an abrupt thing: a tight, impersonal smile on your face as you walk away and approach Slughorn, only realising when you get there that your empty goblet is clutched in your hand like you’re trying to strangle it.

Whatever he sees on your face, he isn’t drunk enough not to frown at. “Ah, our newest gem — hardly seen you all night! Not leaving already, are we?”

You glance at the clock. It isn’t as though you’re being impolite by abandoning his party in the middle of the event. It’s quite late, the servers are stuck to the walls with little to do, and most of the room has divided into waltzing pairs.

“I’m taking my friend to the train station tomorrow, sir. Unfortunately I need to be up quite early.”

Yes, yes, it’s all so tragic. You’re depressed to go.

“Such a shame,” Slughorn frets, wobbling a tad and balancing himself on the wall. “You’ll be all right getting back? Not at all dizzy, are you?” His laugh is cleaved by a loud hiccough, and then he laughs even more. “My, well, I myself will need to be carried!”

“...I’ll be fine, sir. Thank you.”

“Oh, no trouble at all — there’s — hm… ah, Tom!”

No, no — is it bad you almost reach over and slap your palm over your professor’s mouth? Is it at all impressive that you don’t? You should look on the bright side in moments like these. You should admire your restraint.

But of course, Slughorn’s eyes don’t fall upon Tom for nothing. He's halfway across the room already, and Slughorn must have spotted him approaching to achieve this brilliant solution. “Tom can escort you back, no?”

Tom (unforgivably) is beside you now, a very mean, very pretty smile on his face.

“Not too much to ask, I should think? You know the castle best. Head Boy — sometimes I still can’t believe it!”

You look up at Tom and your jaw is clenched where you’ve since put down your goblet. There is too much tension in you to know what to do with, and he looks positively thrilled.

“It’s hardly charity, sir.” He holds out his arm.

You wonder what spell would catch him most off-guard if you were to blast him in the face right now.

Slughorn claps his hands together. “Ha! Yes, well… perfect, then! Off now, the two of you, off now. Do have a good — ” He hiccoughs again — “rest!”

You don’t even bother the diplomacy of smiling at Slughorn as your arm loops through Tom’s and you’re exiting the party. 

Neither of you say a word on the journey, and that’s very well.

If you could just get back to bed without speaking to him you may still consider it a good night. You may be able to push his strangeness and his entitlement and the annoying way his hair falls to another day, when he pesters you about Godefrey’s nonexistent Quidditch practise, which — come to think of it — you do think he told you he'd be headed home for the holidays. You really fumbled that one.

And then Tom’s thumb is brushing the bare skin of your arm and your walk stutters a bit. But he doesn’t mention it, and so neither do you.

And then he’s drawing down your elbow to your forearm so softly it almost feels like he isn’t touching you at all. He doesn’t mention it. Neither do you.

And then your arm, without really meaning for it to, is slipping from his and his hand is holding yours instead, feather-light as his fingers clasp yours and your breath is not the same as it was when you left.

He doesn’t mention it. He just keeps going.

His fingers work back up your arm and you shiver as they drag across your shoulder, gaze searing your neck as the soft digits find their way to your jaw, and you get the sense he’s remembering just how much he liked the taste of it, and you’re… you’re allowing it all again. You’re leaning in, you’re seeking him out, you want him flush against you and even that might not be satisfactory.

You are, in the end, a half-decent observer and a terrible liar.

You’re grabbing his hand with a small amount of direction and a great deal of meaning. You suppose it's because, historically, you’ve proven to have trouble with words in moments like these, and you don’t really know where you’re taking him but god, you know where you want him. Somewhere soft, this time, thick enough that you can fist your hands around it and melt. Somewhere he can hover over you, maybe hold you down a little, just until — maybe, miraculously — you might make him break a little too. Clamber over his lap. Make him yours.

“Tom,” you mouth, some question in the way your eyebrows knit.

The moment you say his name — the instant — he’s pulling you in, crushing his mouth against yours. And, ah, right, that’s what his lips feel like. You’d almost forgotten. 

This kiss is not chaste, hardly tender. It resists in that it asks you to push, to plead, to take this for yourself to prove how badly you want it, and he smiles into it when you do. And then, sated by your efforts, he lets you have him. You’re gripping the collar of his suit in your hands as his wander appreciatively over the back of your dress, pulling you into him as the kiss deepens. He’s savouring you like you’re something religious that’s been offered to him, and there’s the taste of wine on his tongue and you’re still here, aware enough that the symbolism isn’t lost on you.

“I've been thinking," he says between kisses, “about the way you felt when I touched you. I've been thinking about how long it might take before you need it again." 

You gasp at the sensation, and god, god, you've been wondering too, haven't you?

You’re pulling him impossibly closer and something hard is pressing into your hip and you clutch tighter onto his shirt as you moan into his mouth. You need it off, you think, and — has your dress been clinging to you like this all night? You need that off too. You need skin on skin. You careen him backwards without aim, your mind a muddled mess of all the many things your body is screaming it needs, like this is fucking imperative; to give it up would be catastrophic.

You suppose, based on what you’ve read, that that’s how the Room of Requirement works, but it’s still funny to think it would apply to this.

It hurts to remove yourself from him to watch in dumb awe as the door forms in the stone (to see the dark, languid shape of his eyes bearing down on you, the wet, stained pink of his lips), and Tom seems to recover from the revelation much faster than you.

His mouth is on yours once more, a hungry kiss; his free hand at your waist, guiding you through the door and shutting it carelessly behind him. 

He’s like fire against you, radiating as he presses down on you, his hand tangled in your hair and his hips flush against yours. You shiver as his mouth starts to move down (a cheap trick — he hasn’t forgotten how much you liked it the last time) from your jaw to your throat, as his lips trail down your chest and you're shivering into the warmth of him.

You’ve heard it said before, in some romantic sense, that it’s sometimes hard to tell where you end and someone else begins. 

This is not like that.

You've never been more aware of anything than the point where you and him meet.

You’re tugging at him blindly again, trusting in the nature of the Room like this isn't the first time you've been in it, and then you're stumbling down onto a bed you're quite sure wasn't there a moment ago (people say magic is a neutral force but evidently this is not the fucking case), fingers carding through Tom's hair as his body pins you into the mattress.

His mouth is molten hot as you squirm and pant beneath him, your breath coming faster than it ever has. Everything feels sharper and deeper and more intense under his touch, every sensation heightened until it's almost impossible to tell pleasure from pain, his tongue from his teeth.

How did it take you this long to do this again? To need him like this?

And his — you should really have the mind to see the mistake in all of this but perhaps that's for later — his fingers are pulling your sleeves down, propping your back to arch as he reaches under you to unzip your dress, apparently too impatient to sit you up and take it off properly so he just bunches it around your waist instead. There’s a moment where he stops to look at you, your chest exposed to him in the dim sconce-light, and then his mouth returns to circle your breast and you're biting down on a pillow to hold back the whimpering gasp that seeks to escape you. He hums around your flesh, and then he’s at your sternum, kissing a stripe to your belly button before pushing past the dress he's left ringed around your abdomen.

You shimmy under the weight of him to prop your head up — to see past the mass of silk that obscures his face from you as moves lower and lower, hands spanning your hips to keep you still.

His face hovers above your thighs, and he doesn’t move.

“Did you enjoy my fingers?" he asks. 

At that you freeze, thighs pressing together to bury the hand that's rising between them. 

Tom smiles. “Hm, you did." 

And then he spreads your legs apart, one hand pushing your underwear aside and regarding you with delicate, shameless appetite — something that might even be adoration: like this is all he ever wanted you to want.

“Do you think you'd enjoy my mouth, too?"

Words are gone. There's nothing left in you.

His head moves happily between your knees, holding them apart, pressing kisses to the base of your thighs. Your hands flail from the sheets, desperate to grip something else and you hold back a sound that feels like irritation and need at the same time. You need him closer, higher than this. He knows. You can feel his smile biting into your skin.

And then you manage a nod though you're not even sure he's looking at your face anymore (and what a picture to imagine he is) and you worry momentarily it won’t be enough for him — that he’ll ask you to be nice and say it out loud for him — but he hums with something merciful, and — his chin dips. You catch the smallest glimpse of his tongue before it’s on you, wet and slow and unrelenting and you say his name, but it’s a mewl; you choke on it. It sounds like a cry.

Pitiful, needy, undone. Just how he wants you.

You think all efforts to remain even remotely composed are thrown to the wind as soon as his tongue is lapping at you, fast and then slow, everything you want and not even remotely close. He sinks all his weight down as if he can predict the moment you'll writhe before you do — and you do. And with his grip he tells you to endure it. You only need him to say it with his hands and his mouth but he breathes back, licking his lips and he actually says it. “Be good.”

That makes your breath hitch and your cheeks swell impossibly hotter, and reality is a small glint in your peripheral where everything else is burning red. “Y-you’re—”

His mouth returns to you, tongue catching your clit in a drawn-out, agonising motion, and you gasp and lurch forward to inch through the sensation, craving more, more, more. Reason is lost on you, a throbbing familiarity forcing you to grind your teeth down on the pillow to stop yourself from telling him to — you don’t even know. Finish you. Abandon all reluctance. Just let you come as hard as you know he wants you to.

But he pauses, observant as he starts to work his fingers against you. Watching how your slick coats them like it’s the most enthralling sight he’s ever witnessed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to push one inside of you, hearing your breath catch above him and the moan that comes tumbling out of your throat, pillow be damned.

You do your best to breathe through it, and you know he knows how to make you unfold like this, so the meticulous lightness of his ministrations tells you he’s trying to keep it from you now. You’re almost embarrassed about the fact that you’re dripping onto his hand regardless; his lips puffy, his gaze unnervingly, dizzyingly carving you in two.

“Just,” you rasp, clutching desperately at his wrist. “Tom, please.” 

Your begging must be music to his ears. (It’s a rare, unplanned fifth observation: that you think he’ll never get tired of hearing you say his name like that.)

He adds a finger. It’s encircling you, first, and no amount of restraint can stop the harsh gasp that leaves you, but then it’s his tongue and two fingers and he’s pushing into you how you wanted, and he makes a pleased sound against you, gripping you tighter with his free hand, still not allowing you movement and fuck, are you trying. What you're feeling now — the need, the want, everything —  is more than rational thought. Your mind goes blank, and all that matters is this, him, right here and now; nothing else exists, not even for a second. You moan, a low, throaty noise that's a little too loud, a little too intense; you can't recall if anything has ever come from you quite like it and Tom devours you at the sound.

More, you agree; it's almost an obsession in you now; more, more, please, anything and everything.

It’s the precision of his touch — not some bored, hurried transgression — that brings your hands helplessly to his hair.

“Tom,” you whine, holding him tight, and the purr of his mouth finding you again is something destructive.

As soon as you feel another swell of something deep down, your mouth is dropping open.

His tongue is sliding through you, fingers curling, and then your clit is in his mouth, and he’s watching you between your thighs as your eyes clench shut, and you’re coming.

Your voice breaks somewhere in the catastrophe of it. Your body spasms, electric down to every atom, and he pins you down through it. He doesn’t grant you the reprieve of escaping the frenzied, glorious torture of it. His mouth still lingers. His tongue moves thankful and unrelenting. 

He takes all of you, and you think this is destruction — creation — both. How terrifyingly similar they suddenly feel.

His lips are swollen and slick when he finally detaches them from you and you want to kiss him, but he’s leaning back to admire his work. You swallow, unable to blame him for it because you look down at yourself and — this is something else. You’re dripping down his chin. You're shaking. Your legs are still clenching around his torso. They’re holding him so tight you can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt.

But he just rolls off of you. Adjusts his trousers and your abdomen flutters and you think, don’t.

You don’t even realise you’re reaching for him until your hand is around his wrist and you’re still fucking sighing through the come-down, panting into the hot air.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers damp on your chin as he holds you. You make a note that that’s the second time he’s done that. That you thought it was strangely intimate the first time and nothing’s changed other than how much more you like it.

And it doesn’t really feel like you can help it but crawl with gooey, trembling legs onto his lap. Doesn’t feel like you can help it when you lean in and capture his lips with yours, moan unabashedly into his mouth at the stiffness that presses against your core when you do, steal his tongue and the taste of you on it.

When he pulls away he’s looking at you like he doesn’t think you can actually do this. Like you’d just crumble the moment you tried.

A low, determined protest rises in your throat and you’re kissing him again. You’re unbuttoning his dress shirt, you’re trembling to reach for his trousers. 

When you can finally shrug his shirt off, press yourself against him, feel that skin on skin you wanted so badly, you find it somehow even more suffocating than its absence. You’re left wanting a more you aren’t able to even conceptualise, but you’re grinding involuntarily against him and his teeth are scraping your neck and he's hissing at the sensation, and — yes, there’s more.

Your breath is staggered when your hips stutter into a roll and you — fuck. You’re tugging desperately to remove his belt and he smiles against your throat as he takes your hands and guides them to him. You can feel his bulge against your thigh and you’re spreading your legs to usher him where you want, clawing at his chest without even meaning to.

Tom’s taking off his belt, and he’s pulling down his trousers just enough to bare himself to you, and maybe he’s right that you can’t manage it yourself but he stops his assistance like the intrigue of finding out is too good to resist. There's something both intimate and imperious, in a way, about the way he's looking at you now; it's a kind of focus and intensity and withheld hunger just for you; and you're more than happy to give yourself over to it, to let his hands and his eyes and his mouth claim you for his own. To claim him for yours, at last.

You do. You struggle for it. He’s very patient. 

But then it’s there — more — as you finally sink down on him and bite his shoulder and he shudders a low, pained exhale, his hands clutching your waist.

There’s a silent, suspended moment where neither of you move. The room feels entirely still. 

Your lips quiver over his pulse, and your stomach flips at the intensity of it, the undeniable rate of his desire beneath you. You smile against him now, like he always does to you, conscious enough to mumble into his neck, “Mine.”

Tom stutters inside you, fingers gripping you impossible tighter as you dare to think he even gasps. You dare to think he likes it.

And then one of his hands grabs your jaw and his kiss is searing. He thrusts upward and you cry into his mouth, searching to match his pace in a way that you appreciate, for once, he seems unlearned in. 

It’s all a bit messy, a bit new, palms in fists, in skin, in hair, digging for every part they haven’t already taken from. The sound in the back of Tom’s throat is divine, the feeling of him inside you as he slips his hand back between your legs — like he needs everything, like he knows you do too — it’s ineffable. It coils somewhere deep, touches something you didn’t know existed. Your hips are rotating, thighs still soft and slack from coming apart on his tongue, but you’re determined. It feels like finding even ground. It feels like something you deserve: to make him feel how you did.

Your head rolls back, eyes pinching shut in bliss, but Tom is there at your jaw again, forcing your blurry gaze back to him.

His hips are inching even further, the intensity of his pace as he adjusts to you making you dizzy. You think, realistically, there’s sound coming out of you, but you aren’t entirely sure when it’s so close to him, when your mouth is between his fingers and your ears are ringing and he’s looking at you like you’re made for him. 

“Mine.” And it isn’t a dismissal of your own claim but a confirmation that one will not be without the other. His voice is raw and breathy and something about the way he says it makes you contract inadvertently around him, hands swatting his chest like they don’t know what else to do. There’s just too much.

You recognize you’re trying to say something. Some plea, a moan, his name (is there anything else left?), but you’re just babbling into his mouth and he holds you there. He doesn’t kiss you. It’s your failing words against his lips. He swallows whatever syllables try to shape them.

It’s there again when you need it most; the heavy, swirling feeling inside you as he snaps his hips, his fingers returning to your waist with punishing firmness. His breathing accelerates, low in his throat, and you push harder against him. Your vision is gone again, head held in his hands to keep from rolling back so that, you suspect, he can watch defeat split you down the middle again — not over your shoulder, not with his head between your legs — with his eyes on yours, with every broken moan you let out so close to his face he can feel the breath of each one.

You’re grappling desperately at skin that doesn’t feel like enough, even though he’s rocking inside you, and you see the insanity of it, you see that it isn’t logical. Too much and not enough at once — you’re smart enough to know that doesn’t work, but it just is.

“Please,” you manage in a voice you don’t recognize. “Please, Tom, pleasepleaseplease —”

Had you said before it was foolish to call him forgiving? You take it back. He’s very eager to oblige you.

He finds some place inside of you and you don’t know quite what it is that he changes but it's new, uncharted, and you break there. You dissolve. You’re liquid in his hands as you sob, stuttering around him, trembling like you didn’t know was possible, and you swear — you swear you’re going to take him there with you. It isn’t that you could stop yourself if you tried but your body is gripping around him, fingers carving halved spheres into his skin, and you’re pushing down on him through the ecstasy — you’re forcing your eyes open so he can see you break, watch them flutter back all soft and pretty.

And you're sated by your ruin when it ruins him too.

The sound he makes is ragged. Undone. He can only bury it halfway with a kiss you think is actually more of a bite, twitching inside you as he fucks you through it.

You’re both lost in each other for a moment that feels detached from time, feeling his hips stutter to a halt, feeling your body soften. And he’s pulling out of you like it hurts, mouth falling open as he does. You wince at the loss, the sweet soreness between your legs, and you’re held only by the weight of him. You think — and you actually sway like the mere idea is too strong — that if it weren’t for his hands, you’d fall flat off the bed.

But he sort of lifts you off him, lays you down and watches you for a long time as if to decide something important before he's laying down beside you. You watch him too. His fingers brush your hair out of your face, and when there’s not a single curl left clinging to the sweat on your skin, he continues anyway. You let him trace your lips, your jaw, your nose, and somehow, a bit terrifyingly, your final observation: nothing about it feels unusual at all.

You did say he was yours.

[rrrrinmaru]

call me by my name (xavier x mc)

wc: 2058 rating: T

It was just something you had seen online. Call your lover by their name instead of the pet name that had almost become second nature to you—the reactions from the boyfriends and husbands of Linkon City were always so amusing. The more you watch these videos, scrolling idly through your phone as you lounged on the sofa on one of your rare off days, the more you want to test it on Xavier. 

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You can barely remember when the last time you called Xavier by his name—somewhere along the lines, maybe a few months into dating, you accidentally called him baby. 

You remember how it happened, even if you can’t place the exact date. The both of you were strolling down the streets of Linkon City, on the way to one of the cafes another Hunter had recommended to you. You remember the weight of his hand on your waist, gently guiding you along as you focused on the navigation panel on your phone, trying to suss out what exit you had to take in order to take the shortest path there. 

“You okay there?” Xavier murmured, a smile audible in his voice as he pulled you out of the way of some passer-by. “You’re squinting at the phone.”

“No, I got it,” you told him, even as you continued to furrow your brows at the screen and attempt the tried and tested method of lifting it up to the sky to get better signal, as if that would help your case. “Just give me a second, I think we need to turn somewhere up ahead, just—” you spoke, without really thinking it through, the words tumbling out of your mouth while your higher brain functions were wholly focused on reading the damn map, “—give me a sec, baby, I got it. We turn left in a bit, like—”

The fingers on your waist flexed. You looked up at him, barely registering the dilation in his pupils and the way his lips were parted, but you remember noticing the dazed look in his eyes. 

“Xavier? You okay?” 

“Hm,” He hummed, blinking out of his daze. “I’m good. No need to worry about me, just let me know when to turn.” 

And then he smiled at you, so disarmingly that you almost missed your turn.

Regardless, after that incident, Xavier teased you about the pet name until you gave in and repeated it in a quiet, shameful voice. Again, and again, until Xavier hooked you in by his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you stupid. 

From that day on, you didn’t really call him by his name. Which is why the thought of switching it up excites you. It’s so enticing that you even get up to hunt for your old phone, setting it up in a discrete location near the living room to record his reaction. You won’t publish it, not when the both of you are such private individuals, but you look forward to saving his reaction for future reference, and maybe even future blackmail. 

You wait in anticipation, instinctively checking the clock every few minutes to count down to Xavier’s return. As time passes, you get distracted by the latest novel on your phone and you’ve almost forgotten about your grand plan until you hear the familiar sound of a key turning in your lock.

Immediately, you fly to your hidden phone to click record, and then rush back to the sofa. Your heart rate spikes a little from excitement, and you struggle to tamp down the smile that threatens to surface. 

The door pushes open, and you’re greeted by the gorgeous sight of Xavier stepping through your door, groceries in hand. 

Gods help me, you think, fondness bursting from your heart so vividly at the domestic sight that you think you might drown, I love you.

“The queue was long,” Xavier says, a touch of complaint in his voice. He closes the door behind him, slipping the keys into his pocket as he toes his shoes off. “There was a problem with the self-checkout machines, so everyone had to wait in line at the normal cashiers.”

The pet name almost slips off your tongue. It’s so easy to say it, when he’s acting a little whiny like this—when he gets in the mood to be just a little, tiny little bit like he wants to be babied. 

“Aw,” you say in a commiserating tone. “Do you want any help with putting those away?”

Xavier looks at the bag in his hand, then looks at the way you’re curled up on the couch. “No. Stay there; you look comfortable. I’ll come join you once I’ve placed them away.” 

He lifts the bag, peering in as if to check the contents again. “I’ll be quick, so make sure there’s space for me once I’m done.”

“Okay,” you reply, fighting the urge to smile when Xavier lifts his gaze to look inquisitively at you. Usually, there would be a pet name trailing on the end of that sentence. You think Xavier can tell something’s a little off, but he can’t place his finger on it quite yet. 

He wanders to your kitchen—the groceries he bought, sitting in your kitchen so the both of you can cook in your kitchen later, before he takes a shower in your bathroom and changes into his clothes that take up half of your wardrobe. 

Everytime you’re reminded of how much he’s carved out a space for himself in your life, his presence so steady and solid that you’re almost surprised when he isn’t in your house, as if you’ve forgotten the both of you aren’t cohabitating. Yet. 

Xavier hums to himself as he puts the groceries away. His voice is light, like stardust carrying on the wind as it trickles over to where you are on the sofa. You sit up, eyes bright as you peek over the back of the couch to see him bustling about in your kitchen. He opens cabinets to set things aside, so sure of where things are that it makes your heart kick in your chest.

To be known so dearly, so deeply—you don’t think anyone’s ever known you like this, so certainly that it feels like he’s always been a part of your mind rather than someone you met a few years ago. 

“Xav,” you call out, folding your arms on the back of the sofa and pressing your face into your forearms to hide your smile, “could you help me get a drink?”

Xavier pauses. His back is to you, shirt riding up slightly as he stretches up to place a sack of flour in the cabinet above your countertop. You see him slowly move to push the flour further in, the bend of his long fingers as he ensures there’s no chance of the flour falling out when you open the cabinet later. 

Once he’s done, he turns around to face you. There’s a blank look on his face as he leans back, hip against the countertop while he folds his arms across his chest. 

“Xav?” He asks, brows furrowing. “I don’t think I know anyone by that name, princess.”

You have to smother your smile or it’ll show on your face. Going from the way Xavier’s lips are curving up of their own accord, though, you don’t think you’re doing a very good job. “It’s your name, Xav. Xavier. Could you help get me a drink from the fridge?”

“Hm.” Xavier drags the sound out, rolling it on his tongue. He gives you a long, contemplative look. “No, princess,” he says mildly, looking faintly amused. “I can’t. I don’t know who you’re talking to.”

“Xavier,” you repeat, tilting your head as you blink up at him. “A drink, please?”

He chuckles, Xavier moves in this slow, languid way as he unfurls his arms and walks over. His eyes are a little dark, lips upturned in a knowing smile as he makes his way to the sofa. There’s this look in his gaze, this knowing look that makes you feel transparent with how he sees right through you. As he nears you, you take your arms off the back of the couch and lean back.

You can’t help it. The way he looks at you is filled with such intent that it takes your breath away. Your heart thumps in your chest, like you’re nothing more than a prey animal confronted by its natural predator. A little bunny’s heart jackhammering away in your chest. 

And then he places the flat of his palms against the back of his couch, far apart enough that he can brace himself against it as he leans down, enough for the collar of his shirt to droop and for you to get a good look at the slant of his clavicle. He’s so close, leaning over you as you sit there on the couch, and you swear you can feel the puff of his breath against your lips.

You can’t focus on just one thing. The flutter of his eyelashes as he looks at you, the softness of his cheeks, the half-moon curve of his parted lips—and his eyes, as blue as the sky, glittering with a promise as he stares down at you.

“That’s not my name, princess,” Xavier breathes out. “You know what my name is in this household.”

In the back of your mind, you wonder what you look like right now. Your eyes must be dilated. Your mouth is open from shock, and your fingers are trembling from where they are clutched around the pillow in your lap. Your heart trips over itself, throbbing so violently that you feel lightheaded. 

If you leaned up, just a little, you would be able to press your lips against his. You know you could. The distance between your lips is almost negligible, so close you think you can feel the skate of his lips against yours. 

It’s a tease. You know he’s teasing you right now, the way you teased him, and you can’t help but fall headfirst into his trap. You walk right into it, eyes wide open and conscious as you let yourself get tied up, as you let yourself drown in that swallowing, all-encompassing gaze. 

“What is it?” Your eyes drop to his lips before crawling back up to meet his gaze. 

“I only answer to baby,” Xavier murmurs, mouth curving in a smile. “That’s what you call me, princess.”

You smile, eyes crinkling as you peer up at him. “Baby.”

Xavier lets out a low laugh that sends your insides tumbling. “That’s my girl,” he says, and leans down right as you reach up to press your lips together.

You sigh, eyes closing as you sink into the kiss, and he swallows the sound with relish. One hand reaches up to cup your jaw, pulling you in so he can fit his mouth to yours, tongue slipping between your lips. His thumb presses against your skin, gently stroking the underside of your jaw, and you instinctively reach up to curl your fingers into the collar of his shirt. 

“C’mere,” you say in between kisses, gasping for breath. “There’s space—here, on the couch.”

“Mmhmm.” Xavier glances down, eyeing the space between your legs, the obstructive cushion on your lap, and steadies one hand on the back of the couch. “A little tight, but we’ll make it fit.”

He lets his gaze wander back up to you, and gives you a knowing smile. “We always make it fit, don’t we, princess?”

You get the sense he isn’t really talking about the sofa, and you feel heat rush to your cheeks as he vaults over the couch to settle between your thighs. The cushion is removed, flung away from the sofa with a vengeance you didn’t know Xavier possessed, and then he presses his weight down on you, one hand on your waist with the other curving around the back of your neck to hold you in place as he noses along your cheek, and you stop getting distracted by irrelevant things like where your cushion is, or whether he put away all the groceries that need to be refrigerated, at the very least. 

And an hour later, when you’re both out of breath, it occurs to you that your phone’s still recording. 

==

© rrrrinmaru 2024 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[eevees-hobbies]

cockwarming with ren , he's impatient but when you're a brat? yeah no that's his favourite thing ever.

also I should probably sign off as an emoji :3 , so call me 💌 anon ! :P

💌 anon?! Welcome back <3 So, like, we’re official, right? I love that for us–I’ll tuck you away nicely in my pocket, and as long as you sign off for me, I’ll include your love letter emoji in my tag <3

So cockwarming, huh? With Kaji? Wow. I can see the vision, babe.

Content Warning: vindictive, manipulative brattyness, jealousy, just the tip, clit smacking, cockwarming, teasing, choking, begging, validation. Minors Do Not Interact.

You’ve been pushing Kaji’s buttons all day—first, by not responding to his text messages promptly, which resulted in palpitations on his end. Were you ok? Were you safe? He was ready to go on a rampage until you answered with a one-worded “K” that made his eyebrow twitch. He had sent you a link to a song you requested. What made you think responding “K” to I Prevail’s Body Bag was appropriate anyway? It’s a good fucking song! Deep breaths, Kaji…

Then you were being far too friendly with Sakura. He watched as you dragged your hand, which he kisses, along Sakura’s chest. And what the fuck were you laughing at? He’s not even funny. Even deeper breaths, Kaji…

And your worst crime? Your worst offense? Not getting up to hug him as he walked through the door. You stayed on your phone, silently laughing at some dumb cat video that was probably AI-generated! Sure, you smiled at him and said, “welcome home, Kaji,” But where the fuck was his hug?

While Kaji wonders what’s gotten into you, you’re silently rejoicing in delight as you sneak a look at your flustered boyfriend. The truth is, you know exactly what you’re doing. A riled-up Kaji is an absolute monster of a man in the bedroom.

So later that night, when you wiggle your ass enticingly against his crotch as he’s spooning you, you fully expect to be left a blubbering, crying, fucked-out mess.

But what you didn’t plan on was Kaji being onto you. As he lifts the slip of your nightgown and presses his dick against your already wet folds, slipping the tip in, you brace yourself in excited anticipation to accept the entirety of his girthy cock.

But you wait, and wait, and wait. 

You blink and look over your shoulder, ready to question him and his inactivity, but you're met with the meanest scowl you’ve ever seen. It makes you turn around quickly and bow your head.

“K-kaji?”

“What?”

“Um, you, um, just put the tip in?”

“And?”

And? And? And? The word repeats in your head as you realize that maybe you fucked up today. Maybe you pushed him a little too far. 

But perhaps you could just move a little to get things going? After all, this was your baby boy, and he couldn’t resist your charm-

“Move an inch, and I’ll pull out.”

You almost gasp at his tone, at his unwillingness to budge, at how hot he sounds when he reprimands you like this.

Kaji snakes an arm around your front, slipping it in between your breasts and locking his fingers around your throat. He moves closer to you, which gives you about half an inch more of his cock but not nearly enough to satiate you.

“You’ve been awful all day,” his fingers tighten around your throat, and you swallow thickly, hoping that the constraint of his hand around your windpipe gives you a good high.

“Kaji I-”

“You speak when I tell you to speak.”

Oh, god, fuuuuuuck.

You can’t help but pulse around his dick; the way his voice growls in your ear is heavenly.

Kaji, who is not an idiot by any means, narrows his eyes at your blatant show of arousal, “you wanted this.”

No shit.

You shake your head like a good little girl, though.

“Don’t lie to me.” His grip tightens around your throat, and in what feels like a ridiculously cruel overreaction, Kaji reaches around and delivers a swift smack to your clit.

You yelp and backtrack immediately, your voice hampered by the pressure he has around your neck, “O-ok! Yes!”

Silence befalls you, and you’re thankful that you can at least get your bearings to allow the burning sensation in your pussy to subside.

“I guess I should reward you for your honesty,” Kaji says rather quietly, but you pay no mind to the volume of his voice. You only hear him offer a sweet reward, which you hope is in the form of him finally splitting you open.

And to your absolute delight, Kaji pushes into you, stretching your lush, silky walls with firm, thick muscle. You tremble and brace again for more, but Kaji is not feeling merciful.

Instead, he stays like that, cock buried inside of you but unmoving, and it feels absolutely torturous.

But what can you do? You did this to yourself, so maybe you should think twice about acting like you have absolutely no good sense.

You rack your brain, thinking of what could put you back in his good graces. An apology? Gross, no. Begging? You’re not above it.

“Kaji,” you say carefully, “I really want you to fuck me. Like really badly, baby.”

You feel him twitch inside of you–your sweet voice hard to resist, and you know it, but petty is forever.

“I told you to stop talking.” Another swift slap is delivered to your aching and drooling mound, and tears start to well up in the corner of your eyes.

You feel shifting behind you, the sound of a drawer opening and the unmistakable sound of a wrapper being removed and candy knocking against teeth as Kaji places a sucker in his mouth.

You sniffle, realizing that he could most likely do this all night.

The sniffle you make earns you another twitch of his cock.

Sadistic bastard.

It feels like an agonizing amount of time before Kaji speaks again, “bounce back on my dick like a good girl.”

And you’re so eager to fulfill his request that without a second thought, you roll your hips, quickly jerking off his cock with your cunt. You can hear him groan, and it sounds like a melody in your ears—his vocal validation serving as a high you didn’t know you needed.

But between your bounces, you need something else from him that you so desperately crave. “Kaji,” you whine, “say sweet things to me, please.”

And if only you knew how hard it was for him to hold back sweet, loving words from you this entire time, perhaps you would have waited just a bit longer because he was going to break soon, anyway.

Kaji moans and places a hand on your hip. “My baby, I love you so much.”

There it is. 

“I love you too, Kaji. I love you so fucking much.”

And it’s like a dam breaks, your words giving way to thrusts that are now meeting your bounces, Kaji moaning things like, “this pussy is mine, right baby?” “I’ve missed you all day. Did you miss me?” “You feel so good. Fuck, bounce just like fucking that.”

And you agree loudly to anything and everything he says because it’s his, his, his. 

And you swear you can hear a whimper behind you, his grip on your hip almost painful as he pulls out so far that just the tip is inside you and thrusts forward, filling you back up again.

And as Kaji continues to fuck you, you can’t help but think that you ended up getting what you wanted anyway.

[dovveri]

tattoos and bad behaviour

synopsis: momo has been hiding her new tattoo from you and she’s finally back for you to see it.

warnings: strap-ons, vibrators, sexting, degradation, slight public sex, y/n is tied up and gagged, edging, they’re switches your honour! (but also dom!momo)

w/c: 5.7k

a/n: first this first that first smut :P been obsessed w lower stomach tattoos lately theyre so fucking hot its like my version of a happy trail on a woman 🤤

｡･:*˚:✧｡

your girlfriend momo was keeping her new tattoo a secret from you. she got it while she was overseas and everytime you asked her for a picture or for her to show you while you were video-calling, she refused and you were left imagining.

not today though. she was finally coming back from her month long work trip and you were determined to see the new piece of art etched onto your lover’s skin.

unfortunately you weren't able to greet her at the airport because she had a work meeting right upon arrival so you had to resort to waiting for nightfall, before all your mutual friends would head to the club for a reunion.

you slip on a short red dress that highlighted your ass and left little to imagination. you were midway through drawing your eyeliner when she texted,

m ♡ : baby what r u wearing tn?

y/n : why do u wanna know 😠

m ♡ : ur not still mad at me r u? :(

y/n : what do u think.

m ♡ : can u stop answering my questions with questions pls, i’ll show u tn baby 🥺

you scoff.

y/n : yeah along with everyone else. whys it so secret anyway? yk i love you no matter what if thats what ur afraid of

m ♡ : its not that baby ik u do and ily too 🩷 you’ll understand when u see it why i couldn’t show u

y/n : wtf is that supposed to mean 😠 wtv, u can see what im wearing when u see me later tn

you put your phone down in faux annoyance, letting her messages come through but not bothering to read them while you continue applying your makeup. you weren’t actually annoyed with her, maybe a little hurt that whatever she’s hiding her other friends had already seen on her business trip, and if it really was something she was ashamed of or regretted getting, which was totally understandable you’ve had your fair share of bad drunk decisions, you thought she knew you enough to trust you with these things.

ugh whatever. you weren’t trying to soil your night with something so small. you were also excited to see momo again after a whole month of being apart, so ready for her to pick you up and slam you against a wall with her lips against your neck whispering how much she missed you during her trip. god okay maybe you were a little horny too but who wouldn’t be after being completely untouched by their partner for a whole month. you rub your thighs together.

maybe you could put on an extra little something for momo. only to get back at her a little. show her you could play this game too. tease something she could only know, but not be able to do anything about.

you hum as you go towards your closet, searching for what you were looking for.

you smirked slightly as your fingers grasped the small bullet vibrator, grabbing its corresponding remote. you head back towards the bed, spreading your legs, finding yourself plenty wet already with thoughts about how hot momo would look desperate and thrusting fingers into you at an unbelievable pace.

you bite your lip at the thought, tracing the small vibrator along your outer lips, coating it in your essence, letting it catch at your clit and moving it back down towards your entrance before repeating.

you quickly grab your phone and snap a picture of the vibrator covered in your slick, sending it to your girlfriend.

y/n : sent a picture.

y/n : what im wearing tn

m ♡ : what the fuck y/n. im at work

y/n : you asked me what i was gonna wear 🤷‍♀️

you grin while waiting for her reply, knowing she was probably flustered with that adorable flush across her cheeks. you slip the vibrator inside yourself, clenching around it wishing so badly it was momo’s fingers or strap inside you instead.

m ♡ : you fucking knew what i meant y/n. you better not be touching urself rn. ur mine to ruin tonight.

you whimper slightly as you start tracing circles over your clit with the vibrator still off inside you.

y/n : so what if i am? u can’t do anything about it

m ♡ : you fucking brat u don’t wanna play this game with me rn.

y/n : oh but sweetie you started it. im just playing my move. maybe u shoulda given me what i wanted when i asked politely. now ur gonna have to spend the entire night knowing there’s a vibe going off inside of me while we’re with all of our friends.

you snap another picture, spreading your lips open with your fingers to show the vibrator inside you.

y/n : sent a picture.

you don’t bother waiting for her reply, hoisting yourself up and getting ready to go. you thought it’d be best not to get yourself off just yet, leave yourself nice and wet for her for when she’d eventually tear your clothes off.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

bass pounding, sweaty bodies grinding against each other, and flashing lights. all that was missing was momo. all your friends had arrived already, momo’s coworker saying she was kept behind a little late and would be here as soon as she could.

as much as you wanted to tease her you were also worried that she was taking so long. you were about to grab your phone and call her when she finally walks in.

and holy fuck.

hips swaying in low rise jeans that hugged her legs in the most delectable way. tits hidden in a hardly modest top that covered her belly button in a v shape and left her ab lines out in proud display. but most importantly… the fresh tattoo that adorned her lower stomach. if tramp stamps were hot this… this was a whole other level.

suddenly the vibrator in you that was at the lowest setting felt like nothing. you needed her pounding into you right fucking now.

she spots you and smirks, knowing exactly what you were thinking. god you missed her, your drenched state was proof of that enough.

she stalks towards you, your eyes never leaving those dangerous hips as they sway from side to side with each step.

you play it cool, leaning back against the bar, but feeling yourself clench at the sight.

“hey baby.” her voice is deep and raspy, fuck you’ve missed it. she closes in on you, placing her arms on both sides of you on the bar, trapping you in.

your fingers can’t help but grab her hips desperately, gripping hard. “so this is what you’ve been hiding from me.”

she leans in closer, speaking with that sexy husk of hers into your ear, “i knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me if i’d shown it to you earlier. you’d probably book a flight just to see me knowing how impulsive you are.” she tuts, “bet you wanna get down on your knees right now and get me off with your tongue. trace the tatt and make it yours. you don’t care that all our friends and the entire club would see. you’d like it actually, wouldn’t you? little slut, want the entire world to know how good you are with that mouth huh?”

you’re not given a second to respond as she pushes a thigh between your legs unceremoniously and you gasp at the sudden friction, whimpering into her ear.

“that good huh? how long have you been fucking yourself here for anyone to see? how many times have you cum?”

you can barely get out, “n-none, fuck momo i need you please- ” your eyes close, burying your head into her neck, humping against her thigh to give yourself any friction at all.

“so you’re a brat and a liar now huh? think you can get yourself off on my thigh right now?” she rips away from you suddenly leaving you gasping for breath, hands trailing after her hips, “gotta meet the rest of the gang baby.” she’s sporting a devilish look on her face as she grabs your hand and pulls you along, “this is a reunion after all.”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

momo is positively evil. she’s spent the entire night showing off her new tattoo, her outfit alone highlighted exactly what she wanted, and anyone who looked at her would follow the lines of her clothes and body down to where only you were supposed to have access to.

she also makes a point of teasing you to no end. grabbing your ass, pulling you down into her lap when you’re all seated and grinding you down into her thigh. you almost came then and there but she pushes you off of her at the last moment.

you’ve had enough.

you’re seated on opposite ends of the the booth now since she was catching up with some of her friends that you only really knew by name.

you make sure to catch her eye when you turn the vibrator in you all the way up. your legs clench and you have to shuffle in your seat as discreetly as you can.

she raises an eyebrow, eyes narrowing.

it doesn’t take much because you’ve been built up for so long and her gaze on you as you grab the table, knuckles turning white, combined with the risk of literally cumming in a public space next to all your friends gets to you.

pleasure washes over you, if only briefly as you cum, eyes closing and mouth opening slightly.

“hey y/n, you okay?”

your eyes snap back open as you turn to your friend, “y-yeah, just a little antsy i g-guess.”

momo’s jaw is clenched so hard you’re afraid she’ll break her teeth.

“oh! we should all get up and dance then! it’d be good to finally join in anyway.” another friend perks up and now everyone’s making their way to the dance floor, your post-orgasmic blissed self following them before your pulled back by a strong grip.

“what the fuck was that?”

you feel yourself dripping again.

you ignore her, pulling her along onto the dance floor, desperate to be closer to her.

“did you just fucking cum?” she’s relentless, pulling you into her hard, arm wrapped possessively around your waist.

you hum along to the music, grinding into her, “no.”

“fucking liar. i know what you look like when you cum. and now so does everyone else in this fucking club.” she’s snarling, hand moving down to grope your ass roughly, “that face is mine. this ass is mine. no one else should be able to see or touch what’s mine. and you’re gonna regret giving them that.”

you smirk, “make me.”

“one month away and you’ve forgotten your place. i’m gonna have to fix this new attitude of yours.” she’s slipping her hand into the hidden pouch of your dress, stealing the vibrator remote away from you.

“‘s your fault. you didn’t prepare me for this.” you run your fingers across her stomach, “if you had, maybe i wouldn’t be so needy. you should just take me home and fuck me right now.”

she growls, “oh no. you’re getting fucked like the slut you are. right here in front of everyone.” she flicks the vibrator up a notch, your hands grip her shoulders but she pulls away quickly.

hoisting herself up onto a small platform nearby, she grabs the pole in the center of it, and starts to dance.

her hooded eyes are on you the entire time as she drops to the floor, turning and bringing herself back up, full ass on display and you think you drool a little but you're not sure because she's somehow cranked the vibrator up again. whoops and cheers as she climbs the pole, spinning with sexy elegance showing off her core strength, abs flexing, breasts pushed together. she comes back in and grinds her front against the pole.

then, and you don’t even know how it happens because you’re so focused on not cumming, she’s suddenly upside down, legs clinging to the pole, cheeky smirk right in front of you as she yanks you in by the neck and kisses you for the first time that night.

you moan against her immediately, she's sucking your bottom lip into your mouth and bites, and you’re helpless against her as she ravages you. you can barely keep up, not even kissing her back just panting into her mouth with hot breaths as she licks into you, invading all of your senses, you're so close to cumming.

you're incoherent as you moan into her, she turns the vibrator all the way up, smirking against you as she feels your mouth go slack and you cum.

but just as sudden as it came, she switches off the vibrator, is off the pole immediately, tugging you through the crowd, yelling something at your friends that you can't make out, and hailing down a cab.

you're barely conscious and mourning the loss of an incredible orgasm. she let you come, but stripped it away from you just as quickly, it could barely classify as an orgasm.

her hand is on your thigh the entire ride back to your place, she's gripping you and inching her hand up your dress. the vibrator turns on again and you jolt, stifling a moan as the cab driver looks at you in the mirror in mild concern.

you grab her arm pausing her ministrations, whispering desperately, "f-fuck mo- c-can't, 's too much-"

she chuckles darkly, "you're the one who begged me to take you home and fuck you. you're gonna take what you get now."

the short drive feels excruciatingly long as her nails rake the inside of your thighs. finally you're home and you're pulling her out of the car and up the stairs to your apartment, fumbling with your keys as she moulds herself to your back, kissing your neck and nipping at your ear.

the door opens and you almost fall in but she catches you and slams you against the door again, closing it as she immediately latches on to your lips.

"fuck baby- god- do you know what you- fucking do to me?" she's mumbling between kisses as you wrap your legs around her waist, her hands immediately going to grip your ass as she pushes you into the door further, hips grinding against your core.

you're a mess, you need her inside of you now. "b-bedroom."

she doesn't take any convincing and lifts you up. your panties are absolutely soiled by now and she could probably feel it against her bare stomach as you grind along her abs.

she throws you onto the bed and crawls on top of you, lips attacking every exposed sliver of skin available to her. you moan as she hikes your dress up, knee pressing into your center.

hazily, you remember what got you this worked up in the first place. and with a glance down, you're overcome with a need.

surprising her with your strength, you're flipping her over and working at the zipper of her jeans, "need to eat you out now. please."

she moans, "fuck baby alright. you're gonna look so fucking hot between my legs, the new tatt crowning your head."

you’re kissing down her body after successfully undoing her jeans and sliding them down her legs. a free hand moves up to grope roughly at a breast and she arches into your touch. you stop once you reach her belly button, pulling yourself up a little to admire her new art.

she's staring at you with lust and rubbing her thighs together at the way you're devouring her with your eyes.

your fingers come down and lightly trace the sharp lines and shapes as she jolts up. you follow the lines on the left side of her lower stomach, tracing down to right above her pussy. you were obsessed. the twin patterns lead directly to her center, bringing your attention to the pathetic excuse for underwear still covering momo's pussy.

you lean down, licking along the tattoo, and her hands are in your hair immediately, tugging and pulling, trying to get you to where she needed you most. but you resisted, licking over every sliver of inked skin, biting down and marking her on the sensitive spot just above her hipbone.

"still can't believe you hid this from me for a whole fucking month."

she bucks up into you, "you woulda put everything down just to see me. and i couldn't have you doing what you're doing right now a month ago when it was still fresh. gotta protect the skin y'know."

you scoff, "coulda at least sent a picture or showed me on video call when i asked." you bite down again and suck, leaving a dark purple mark next to one particular stroke of ink.

"f-fuck baby. first of all- ah- tattoos aren't pretty when they're healing. they're all flaky and red and really gross. second, oh shit- i told you -mmf- i wasn't gonna tempt you to come to me, you have a life and a job but you don't care about any of that when it comes to me."

you get her panties between your teeth, and slowly pull them down her legs, admiring the way slick clings between the material and her exposed pussy. you fling them to the side once they're off. "yeah cos i love you idiot."

"and i love you too but you were not about to fly halfway across the world just to fuck me."

you hmph in annoyance, "guess i'll have to make up for it now then since you've kept this from me for so long." and before she gets a chance to reply you're diving in, licking long straight lines up from her entrance to her clit.

her hands fly to your hair again, keeping you there, gripping your head, thighs closing around your ears. you can still hear her moans as you suck her clit into your mouth and tongue it from side to side, releasing it with a pop and moving down to collect the gush that comes out of her.

oh how you've missed this taste. the heady scent of hers driving you insane as you take inhales through your nose while your mouth is at work.

you look up at her, back arched and head flung back onto the pillow, chest heaving as she crumbles around you. with the new tattoo crowning her pussy, you've never seen anything hotter in your life.

"please y/n. inside- fuck- need you- inside."

you hum against her pussy, the vibrations pulling another gush of wetness out of her as you tease a finger along her entrance.

she's grinding down desperately, "fuck- please- fuck y/n-"

you slowly insert your finger, moaning at how tight she is and how her pussy sucks you in, clenching around you. you don't give her a second to adjust as you start pounding away, sucking her clit into your mouth harshly, fingers pumping in and out of her with practiced speed.

she howls and her grip on your head tightens, you can feel her getting closer as it becomes harder to thrust in and out with how tight she's pulling you in.

"f-fuck! y/n! f-fuck. cumming!" she gushes as you keep thrusting into her, helping her through her high and licking back up to her tattoo, sucking another mark onto her pretty skin.

she relaxes as you pull your fingers out of her, bringing them to your mouth and sucking. you crawl back up kissing gently as she catches her breath, an arm thrown over her eyes. you’re kissing her neck when she abruptly flips you around, smirking down at you, hair cascading her face.

"you've had your fun now. i think it's time i teach you that lesson we were talking about earlier hm?"

her hands are lightning fast as she pulls down the zipper of your dress, slipping it off your body leaving you in your lace red bra and panties. a finger finds its way down to your crotch as she lightly presses down on your clit and you arch your back into her, moaning her name.

"so wet baby. now i'm gonna ask you again and i don't want you to lie to me this time. how many times did you cum tonight?"

"t-two!"

a hand comes down slapping your clothed pussy as you yelp, scrambling away before she yanks your hips back into place and holds you there.

"what did i just say about lying?"

"'m not lying- please!"

she breaks character for a moment, eyes softening as she looks at you with an adoring gaze, "y'know the safe word baby?"

you nod, "raccoon."

she smiles and leans down to peck you, "good girl, don't be scared to use it mmk?"

you nod desperately, "momo please- i'll be good please, please just fuck me."

her eyes narrow again, "it's too late to be good. let's count them hm? first you interrupt me at work, then you disobey me and touch yourself, even going as far as to make yourself cum in front of all of our friends. and let's not forget the bratty attitude you've been giving me all night. you're the furthest thing from good right now." her hands are back at your clit, circling and rubbing until you're squirming under her.

"didn't mean it! just wanted -ah- you to fuck me! not my fault you couldn't do that."

a hand comes down hard on your pussy.

"there's that attitude again. think i'm gonna need to gag you."

your eyes widen at the image, leaking onto her palm.

"you like that? such a slut, getting wet over the thought of being restrained. in fact, let's tie you up too so you don't get any funny ideas."

she's up and back in seconds, gag and silk ties in hand. she makes you strip completely and you feel yourself blush slightly as her gaze on you remains like a hawk.

as opposed to her harsher words, she's gentle while tying you up, making sure the ties are comfortable and not hurting you. your heart flutters at the care she takes and the constant checking in. once you’re all tied up and gagged, spread-eagled with limbs attached to all 4 bedposts, she makes you signal your safe action and as soon as she’s satisfied you’re comfortable with everything, she’s crawling over you again and spreading your legs. 

“so so pretty for me. look at you, dripping onto the sheets.” she runs a finger through your now naked folds as you buck up, pleading for anything.

"so much prettier now that we've shut that foul mouth up too. shame i can't kiss you anymore though." she pouts as she spreads your folds with both hands, blowing gently.

the cold air hits your clit and you shiver slightly in pleasure.

"gonna take this out now," she's pulling the vibrator out of you and you suddenly feel so empty even though the vibrator wasn't too big to begin with.

you're fighting against the restraints, muscles all tense and in anticipation.

"oh don't worry," a dark look passes over momo's face, "i'll fill you up soon enough."

a finger enters you agonisingly slow, and pulls out even slower. she's kissing up your stomach, and takes an erect nipple into her mouth as she repeats this.

you're straining and pulling but she's relaxed, sucking at your tit and kitten licking your nipple. the hand that's not inside you comes up to the other breast, kneading gently and you want to cry. you need things rough and fast and hard and she's giving you the complete opposite. she switches breasts, but doesn't up her pace at all, taking her leisurely time as you writhe underneath her, completely at her control.

your muffled words against the gag make no sense and she comes up and kisses the side of your lip, "shhhhh, baby relax. relax and enjoy it would you?" she continues her kisses to your ears, licking the shell and biting down softly on your earlobe. the hand that's at your breast pinches a nipple and twists. her tongue trails to behind your ear, and then down to the sensitive skin of your neck where she begins to suck lightly. her hand moves to the other nipple and twists it as well, the painful pleasure is driving you insane and you're clenching your jaw around the gag so hard you might just bite into it.

all while her other hand has been pushing in and out of you at the same slow pace she's started in. sometimes she'd be generous and brush against your clit but none of this was going to be able to make you cum.

"if you think you're cumming again tonight you're dead wrong by the way." she hums against your collarbone, "you've come however many times already so the rest of the night you're gonna lie here and look pretty while i take my time making love to every inch of skin i've missed for a month."

you curse internally, eyes tearing up as you subject yourself to her play. she's relentless and unforgiving for the next half an hour. teasing nips, slow licks, and slower fingering.

finally, it seems like she's speeding up a little. thrusting into you with a little more power wt every in, and pulling out a little faster with every out. the hand that has abused your breasts for the last 30 minutes starts gripping harder, pulling at your nipples and pinching them with vigor, twisting, sucking, and flicking her tongue over them and you're building up so quickly after being left stimulated for so long.

she hums against you, "so fucking pretty like this."

you moan as her pace picks up, two fingers pushing in and out of you, hard enough that your breasts start to bounce with each thrust and she adores that, pulling back to watch as the saliva-slicked mounds bounce with each thrust. a third finger enters and your eyes widen, her gaze set on you making you clench around her as you come closer and closer to the edge.

she's leaning down again and blowing against your wet nipples and you're so close to coming and-

fuck! she's stopped completely, hovering over you with a teasing smile on her face that you would give anything to wipe off right now. she coos, "awwwwwwh you look so adorable frowning like that. is my baby mad? mad she didn't get to cum?"

you nod, your eyebrows creasing together.

"well what'd i say earlier hm? you've had your share today. you're going to learn how to stop being so selfish and greedy after you've already come so many times."

she's sliding down your stomach now, grinning up at you from between your legs, before swooping in, tongue hot against your folds as she sucks and licks and bites.

you're writhing again, so easily built up and you come so close, so fucking close, trying your hardest to close your thighs around her head to trap her there but the silk ties prevent you from doing so. and she pulls away again. you want to pull your hair out in frustration.

she's looking at you in amusement. moving off and going to grab something you can't see because you're still tied to this fucking bed.

when she returns she's sporting an 8-inch strap on that bobs along as happily as she is when she skips over towards you. it's almost absurd how adorable she looks with a fake pink dick attached to her and you'd laugh but you just need her inside you so fucking bad you're crying instead.

she's on you again, dragging the lubed up strap along your folds, letting it catch at your clit before moving back down towards your entrance and repeating.

she giggles as you frown, "i'm gonna fuck you until i cum now. if you cum i'm stopping and riding this myself while you watch tied up. understand?"

you nod quickly, needing her to just get inside you already.

she pecks your nose and starts to slide in. you're already moaning at the feeling, pussy clenching and pulling her in deeper until she bottoms out, hips meeting, skin touching.

she lets out a low breath, "fuuck y/n. you have no idea how fucking good you look right now."

she watches in awe as she pulls out, strap even wetter than it was before it went in, and she pushes back in roughly without warning.

"mmph!" you're caught off guard, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sudden combination of pain and pleasure that leaves you reeling.

she doesn't take her time this round. she's pulling out and pushing back in before you know it, setting a ruthless pace as she pants above you, eyes locked on the way she was splitting you open with every upward thrust.

your eyes drift down to her breasts, still trapped within her bra and you desperately wish you could free them, suck on her nipples or play with her mounds, or just watch them bounce up and down as she rutted into you.

she's huffing when she notices your gaze, "s-slut wanting- hah- my tits h-huh?" she stops for a second, hilted inside you as she quickly unclasps her bra and pulls it off, returning to her unforgiveable pace. "mm- there- fuck- you go. can't do anything about it because your tied up and gagged but you appreciate the view don't you?" she's smirking as she pushes herself upward, running a hand through her messy hair as she continues to plunge into you and you think you could die right now.

she brings a hand up to a breast and squeezes, nipple coming out between fingers as she pulls and twists it, moaning at the feeling, head falling back exposing her pretty neck. you're trying your hardest to focus on her and not how close you were to cumming and she's giving you the perfect distraction.

you falter though, as your eyes drift further down, reminded again of the tattoo that outlines her hips, clenching hard as the sight of her lower abs prominently drawing your attention to her strap.

"eugh- you're so fucking- uh- tight around me baby. fuck- are you gonna cum? it's getting harder to pull out with how hard you're -mmf- clenching."

you can't handle everything that's going on. the build up of the entire day creeping into a tight ball in your stomach.

and then she's pulling out again and you lurch forward with a cry. no! god you were so close again fuck!

but before you knew it you felt the ties around your limbs loosening and the gag being taken out of your mouth. you're flipped around onto your hands and knees and she's pushing back into you at an even rougher angle that scratched just the spot to make you see stars.

"fuck! fuck fuck fuck-" you can finally be vocal again as the sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, the bedhead thumping against the wall with how rough momo was pounding into you.

"yeah? you -ugh- like that?"

"fuck yes! oh fuck you're so deep inside me mo- please, please let me cum i need to cum around you, please,"

she moans pulling you up so you're only on your knees, "yeah? fuck- you think you -shit- deserve to cum after all this?"

you're crying as you feel a hand slip down your stomach and rub against your clit roughly, "yes please! i've been so good i- fuck- please! momo!"

another hand comes up and pinches your nipple, she's thrusting into you at an impossible speed, heavy breaths against your ear muttering curses, "fine. cum y/n. cum for me."

you let go with glee, falling down onto the mattress as her hands move back to your hips, pistoning into you trying to reach her own high. you feel her spasm and moan, falling onto your back, still lightly thrusting as the both of you ride out your highs together. you don't think you've had an orgasm this good since the first time she used the strap on you, the build up of your ruined orgasm at the club and the several times momo edged you tonight coming to climax.

heavy breaths fill the room as you both try and catch your winds again. she's the first to pull out slowly, and you groan at the feeling, pussy still sensitive from the fucking you got. she tosses the strap to the side, cuddling into your back, wrapping an arm around your midriff.

you turn in her arms, snuggling into her chest and breathing in her scent. her hands come up to brush through your hair relaxingly, and you're brought back to the world listening to her heartbeat slow down.

your hand comes up and lightly traces over her tattoo again, and she hums in pleasure at the feeling.

"good?" she asks.

you chuckle into her chest, "so fucking good i think i almost peed myself."

she snorts that loveable snort that you've missed and kisses your forehead. "speaking of peeing, c'mon, gotta get you cleaned up."

you whine, clutching her waist, "noooooo 10 minutes pleaseeeeee."

she rolls her eyes fondly, "you're going to fall asleep."

"'m not." but a yawn betrays you.

she laughs, "yes you will. c'mon."

you groan as she pulls you up, eyes flickering down again to her tattoo.

"i love it mo."

she smiles, "i knew you would you big idiot."

"don't keep stuff from me again."

"yeah yeah, you're a big girl and you can act mature, suuuure."

you stomp your foot like a child, blushing when she laughs at the action proving exactly what she just implied.

"fine you're right, but doesn't mean i like you for it."

"shut up dork, you love me."

you sigh, meeting her eyes, overwhelmed with the way you feel for her, "yeah... yeah i do."

she smiles dragging you towards the bathroom, "i love you too dummy. now let's get cleaned up before you catch a cold."

you sneeze and she laughs at you but you think you're probably the luckiest person alive to be able to be with your girlfriend.

[katsutora]

a/n: yes, i edited this because this post refused to show up in tags. this writing is for my best best bestest best friend @yeosatinyngz who has been with me since my bllk days. thank you for being my xavier, who waited for me all throughout my hiatus lmfao.

⋆˖ ࣪⭑ xavier —

who only ever had a single fear, realized that he might have developed another one after an argument with you.

what initially started with “what if he lives to see another day, only to find out that there’s no you waiting for him in the future?” was now accompanied by “what if he loses you before he’s supposed to?”.

he hates it. hates the way you’re giving him short replies, hates the way you chat and laugh with other people but not with him, hates the way you seemingly refused to acknowledge his presence.

xavier hates the fact that you didn’t drop by his place earlier. hates your cold treatment. hates that you didn’t share recipes with him or cook for him this morning. hates the happy look on your face when you talked with that doctor. hates your sudden interest in paintings. hates how you disappeared for a few hours to visit the N109 zone without telling him first.

he hates everything.

he hates himself more than anything.

he didn’t know whether he should laugh or cry because he’s been given a chance to fight with you. in the past, your life kept on slipping through his fingers before you both could even find something to disagree on.

xavier can afford to lose everything else but you. never you.

still, despite everything, he dutifully accompanied you on your way back home. the single shadow casted on the ground suggests that you’re both one entity, and yet he couldn’t seem to ever close this actual distance in between the two of you.

you’re right there in front of him, but you’re going somewhere he can no longer follow. he doesn’t want you to hate him. it’s unfair that this version of you are not so kind as to wait for him to catch up to you.

then again, you’re an endless galaxy, and he’s merely one single star in the sky. losing him would not be significant to you whatsoever. you have a life here in Linkon that does not always involve him��doesn’t need to. you’ll be just fine even if he doesn’t exist.

it’s alright, he thought. he’s willing to immerse himself in the pain as long as he’s allowed to see you. he will leave Linkon, he will move out of his apartment, he will keep looking out for you even if you don’t want him anymore. he will find the goddamn protocore. he will hunt every single wanderer in the world. he will risk everyone and everything. he will-

for a guy who’s always been about living in the present and cherishing every moment, he’s reading the last line first and determining the ending for himself before things could play out.

“xavier?”

he’s strangely jittery today, isn’t he?

your voice broke him out of his reverie. it took him a few seconds to regain some semblance of composure. when he did, the first thing he did was confirm this uncomfortable tension lingering in the air.

“are you mad at me?” his eyes were glued to the ground. he had a vivid imagination of your shadows never coming close to become one ever again.

“huh?” he saw you blink, and noticed that there is, indeed, a slight irritation on your face which was directed at him.

xavier abruptly stopped near the apartment gate, failing to realize that he was invading your personal space a little. you could feel his cold fingertips pressing against the back of your hand like a silent plea.

he absentmindedly traced the outline of his future with them, and it’s the shape of you.

“xavier?” you tried again.

“you’re mad at me.” he said.

his grip was loosening slightly before tightening once more. he simply fears a world where he has to live without you. xavier knows that he was running away from this confrontation. god, he’s such a coward for dreading your answer.

“you’re mad at me, aren’t you?” he repeated himself.

winter was two months ago, but xavier has been frozen in time since the day he had first lost you.

“what? no!” mildly annoyed would have described the situation better. “i-it’s just that you kept refusing when i asked for a turn on the claw machine! not to also mention that you didn’t get us a single plushie. i could’ve won us five in a row!”

...

xavier let out a breath that he had been holding these past 214 springs. he closed his eyes for a moment to let it all sink in. slowly, life started moving again.

it turns out that he doesn’t need a visit to the hospital, or to the art studio, or the N109 zone. he should probably call jeremiah later to inform the poor guy that he doesn’t need help moving out of this city any time soon.

the wanderers lurking around the area too, will live to see another day. he made sure to cover your hunter’s watch as subtly as possible, so you would only focus on him.

“i’m sorry.” he pulled you closer, his arms wrapped tightly around you like an orbit. “i’m sorry. i’ll buy you a membership at the arcade to make up for it.”

© katsutora ; do not claim, repost, translate, and/or modify my works.

[lighthouseshepard]

felt inspired by this insanely gorgeous piece of art that i cant get out of my head by @mikonez and my hand slipped (posting it here with their permission! ❤️)

"John?" Arthur murmurs, cracking one eye slowly open. "Is that you?"

Among the haze of his vision, a blend of shifting shadows and points of flickering light like radio static made tangible, he barely makes out the figure standing at the edge of the bed. If he had half a mind more than what he currently possessed, the sight might have set his nerves on edge. As it stood, fighting against the dredges of sleep which sought to keep him under, the familiar silhouette was nothing but a cause for another kind of concern.

"John?" he asks a second time. With a mumbled groan he picks his head up off the pillow, straining to see. "Are you alright?"

The figure shifts. John steps up to the side of the bed, walking through the wide beam of moonlight piercing soft and silver through the windowpane. In its gentle illumination the long, silken strands of black hair falling across his shoulders and down his back seemed to hold a faint glow.

"Hi, Arthur," he says quietly, uncharacteristically subdued. "Did I wake you?"

Even after a week of hearing that voice aloud he couldn't get used to it. The distinct and velvety rumble of John's words was stronger outside of his own head. Kinder somehow, too. Though they no longer carried the undercurrent of an echo, something of the god remained when he spoke.

"Hmm? No, no, you didn't." Arthur holds back a yawn. "I think I was dreaming."

"Oh?" 

John drifts closer. The pajama pants and shirt they'd bought for him fit loosely on his new frame, creating the image of a man slouching uncertainly. Arthur couldn't tell if he truly was hunched or not, all six feet and more of him trying to appear as small as possible.

"What were you dreaming about?"

"Honestly? I don't remember. A field of flowers, maybe. Something golden." Lifting his head further, he squints. "John, are you okay?"

Expressions on his face were surprisingly easy to read. Before they separated John theorized that he'd need to learn how to show emotion, that it wouldn't come naturally after getting his own body. His worry eventually fizzled into frustration when the opposite became true - every feeling, every fleeting thought, any inkling of desire was visible on his face from day one. He couldn't hide anything no matter how hard he tried. A lack of poker face, Arthur told him, but he failed to see how a card game came into play.

"I'm fine." He shrugs. "Couldn't sleep."

"Again?" At this Arthur props himself up on one elbow, both eyes focusing fully. "This is the third night you’ve woken up. You're not too cold, are you?"

"I don't... think so?" John replies, frowning. "I don't feel cold, anyway. If anything I'm itchy."

A flash of amusement shines in Arthur's tired smile. "I imagine clothes are going to take some getting used to, yes."

"That’s an understatement," John grumbles. He picks absently at the hem of his shirt. "I don't see why these are necessary."

"Because it's freezing outside and in, and you'll likely catch a cold without them. Plus-"

He waves him off. "I know. Societal conventions. Whatever. You're not wearing a shirt, I might add," he points out stubbornly.

"That's because I'm never cold."

"Do you even have a blanket?"

Arthur gazes up at him pointedly. "John, what's on your mind?"

Rubbing one arm with his hand, he glances down at his bare feet. Ten new fingers, ten toes. Entirely too many to deal with on top of everything else. "Like I said. I couldn't sleep."

"Right," Arthur says empathetically. His smile begins to dwindle, lips pulling downward. "I can't imagine it's an easy task, John. You are learning how to for the first time, essentially."

"Yeah, well," he huffs. "Instead of getting easier it's slipping further away from me."

"Are you still having those dreams?"

"I wouldn't call them dreams, Arthur." More along the lines of nightmares.”

"Right," Arthur repeats, mumbling. "No, of course not."

He rubs the sleep from his eyes, studying what he could of John in the moonlight. Although his sight had yet to return fully, the slow progress was enough of a lifeline to keep him at ease, for now. Neither could have predicted how the ritual would turn out, and for them to both emerge alive, first and foremost, was an odd little cosmic blessing in itself.

After a week John was still adjusting. Arthur didn't blame him in the slightest, but the empathy he felt for his situation wasn't always well received. John, so far at least, tended to misconstrue it as pity regardless of how many assurances he was given. 

As Arthur gazes up at him, he notes two things: among the frustration worrying a crease into his brow, another more poignant emotion lingered underneath, so far removed from what shape he knew longing to take that it swung all the way back around into desperation; and John, arms now crossed along his torso, was shivering.

"John, you're - come here," Arthur says without a second thought. "Take my blanket, take something. Where's yours?"

"In the other room." Hesitantly he sits on the edge of the bed. A body still so weak from all it had endured made for difficult navigation. Muscles and limbs he was figuring out how to control never seemed to want to bend easily to his will.

"Why didn't you bring it with you? You’re clearly freezing."

"I don't know, I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to be near you."

"Oh."

In the silver tinted darkness, he reaches out a hand. At the touch on his arm John startles, glancing down. He doesn’t pull away.

"Listen, John," Arthur says quietly, "why don't you just stay here tonight?"

"What?"

"Stay here with me. There's plenty of room. You're tall, yes, but you aren't going to fall off the end. It might... help, that's all. And-"

He swallows. "Truthfully, I miss you over there."

The offer doesn't sit so much as float between them, a gauzy, gentle thing. John studies Arthur's face, all his various scars, the hint of gold in his gaze now subtler for his absence. How peculiar for those features he knew better than the ones he had now to be reversed, no longer viewed from behind a mirror’s reflection.

"Okay," he says simply.

John leans forward, stretching out over him. Wide eyes follow his movements, lips parted slightly in a question Arthur couldn't quite get out, but he doesn't dare move. Long legs straddle just below his waist, forcing his head back down onto the pillow. Sections of silken hair slip forward off John's shoulders as he comes into view, hovering over Arthur with a kind of familiarity and trust that leaves them both a little breathless. One hand cradles his cheek, and Arthur feels his own slip unthinkingly beneath the fabric of John's shirt to splay steadily along the warmth of his stomach.

"Hey," Arthur whispers, smiling. "When I said stay here, I didn't mean on top of me."

"You didn't tell me not to, though," John hums. A thumb brushes across Arthur's jaw. "You're warm."

"And suffocating.” 

“Mm. Do you want me to move?’

 Breath not his own whispers against his mouth. Their faces were only inches apart. It would be so easy to kiss him now, he thinks, repeat the way they’d all but crashed against each other upon coming out from that ritual weak and coughing but alive, not thinking anything save for the gratitude they couldn't figure out how else to express.

They hadn't talked about it afterwards, too focused on the everything which came after. Arthur wonders if he would taste any differently fresh out of a bad dream, settled somewhat into new limbs. He stares up in abstract wonder, hoping one day soon he would be able to see the person above him with enough clarity to fully appreciate what hard won circumstance gave them both. 

“Arthur?” John asks. His voice drops to a low rumble, expression searching and hopeful. Though he looked just as exhausted as Arthur felt, a quiet fire was beginning to brim behind his eyes.

“What?” he stutters out. “Sorry, John.”

“I asked if you wanted me to move.” That caressing hand drifts upwards, brushing through auburn hair mussed from sleep. “Is this okay? I don't want to go back to the other room.”

“No, John, it's - no, wait, don't go!” He grips John’s hip with a force that startles them both when he begins to pull away. “I meant no, you don't have to go back. You can stay here. It's okay,” he adds, pulse a flutter caught in his throat. “It's alright.” 

John exhales in relief. “Thanks. I, um… I fucking hate it, Arthur,” he admits softly. “Not having you next to me, I mean. It doesn't feel right, sleeping alone. Not that sleeping overall feels right, but…”

“Yeah, John,” Arthur sighs, “it doesn't feel the same to me, either.”

“Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you kiss me again?” 

“I - what?”

A body starved for connection from the first moment of its tangible conception lays out along him, chest flush to his own scarred torso. Parts of John felt only in passing were suddenly closer than they ever had been previously: knees on either side of his thighs, a waist he grasped with both hands, arms and elbows and a brief glimpse of collarbone from beneath the shirt slipping off one shoulder. All the indelicate human pieces which comprised someone distinctly inhuman pressed against him, imbued with a fervency reminiscent of an ocean trying to return to the droplet from where it first originated - and it aches.

Arthur answers his question.

It’s nothing like the first, yet still an inkling of similar desperation colors the way their lips meet. They don’t collide so much as come together solidly in the middle, both tilting their heads forward to close the few inches that remained. John’s mouth is warm and firm, his hesitation lasting for only a second, and Arthur kisses him with as much conviction as he can muster without losing himself in the process. His arms move from John’s hips to wrap around his back, pulling him closer still. When they part by necessity for breath alone, each gasping quietly into the dim, Arthur struggles to speak.

“Yeah,” he rasps out. “You can stay, John. I don’t - I don’t want you sleeping anywhere else from now on.”

John grins down at him. “Good,” he says, and leans in anew. 

[therealdisneyfan2319]

Swing | Wanda Maximoff

A Stripper MILF Wanda Cinematic Universe Story

Summary: Wanting to make up for missed birthdays, you give Wanda quite the present

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut (18 + MINORS DNI), language

Word Count: 1.9K

Masterlist

You anxiously paced around the living room of your shared house with Wanda.  She was en route back after dropping the boys off at Vision’s for the weekend.  The quiet hour you had to yourself was spent setting up the latest in a long line of birthday gifts for your girlfriend.  It was your way of making up for all the ones her ex had forgotten: how anyone could ignore Wanda on her birthday was incomprehensible.  She insisted that you didn’t need to spoil her, arguing that you didn’t need to make up for Vision’s shortcomings.  You ignored her.  It was the first time in your life you had a woman to spoil and you were planning on taking full advantage of that.  

The gifts started small: cooking her favorite dinner on Monday for no reason, surprising her with her favorite flowers on Tuesday, the new end table she’d been talking about for months on Wednesday, and a long after dinner massage on Thursday.  Wanda wasn’t used to such thoughtful displays of kindness.  Yet you were determined to make sure she had the best birthday yet, which is why you saved the best for last.  This was the present you knew she wouldn’t be expecting at all.  It’s the one she mentioned in passing once not realizing how you’d cling onto it for the last few months.  It was the most expensive of the gifts.  And it was the most…scandalous…of the gifts.  

The sound of the front door unlocking snapped you back to reality.  Your heart pounded in your throat, threatening to explode out of your body entirely as seconds turned to minutes turned to hours as you waited for Wanda to walk down the hallway.  

“Virginia’s over for the weekend.  She brought the kids with her, too.  I know Billy gets along with Vin well enough, but Tommy really doesn’t care for him or Viv.  And I don’t understand why the V names.  Could they not come up with anything else?” Wanda frequently voiced her disdain for her ex-husband’s new girlfriend and her kids.  While you knew that she was happy and secure in your relationship, you also knew that the topic of her failed marriage was a sore subject.  

“The boys’ll be fine, Wands.  It’s just for the weekend.”

“I know.”

“They’ve gotta get used to being around Virginia and the kids.”

“I know.”

“That means we have the weekend to ourselves.”

“I know,” Wanda smirked.

“I have a present for you.”

“Y/N, no.  You’ve already gotten-” “It’s downstairs.”

Wanda’s mouth snapped shut abruptly as she looked at you, a curious expression painted on her face.  

“Follow me?” you asked as you offered her your hand.  You smirked knowingly as Wanda sighed, dropping her hands into your outstretched one.  

“You know, you don’t have to spoil me like this just because it’s my birthday.  Really, it’s okay.”

“I want to make up for all those ones that Vision missed or forgot or whatever…plus this one is for both of us.”

“What do you mean-oh.”  Wanda’s eyes widened as she stared at the hanging mess of nylon and leather straps hanging from the heavy bag hook on the ceiling.  “Oh my god.”

“You like it?” you chuckled, giving Wanda’s hand a slight squeeze.

“Oh my god,” she repeated.  You felt her hand slip from yours as she carefully made her way over to the middle of the room.  Wanda brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she eyed the set-up with a keen sense of curiosity.  

“Now if you really don’t want another gift, I can always take it back,” you teased, cheekily shoving your hands in your pockets, watching Wanda stare awestruck at the swing in the middle of the room.

“Don’t you dare,” Wanda warned.  “Where on earth did you find one of these?” she asked, reaching up to run her fingers through the straps.

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

She gave you a look.

“The internet.  Some website.  Google suggested it.”

Wanda’s look turned into a smirk.  The nylon straps danced through her fingers as she continued to examine her newest present.  You felt your heart slowly creeping up your throat the longer you stared at the straps twirling through your girlfriend’s fingers.

“You remembered.”

“Wanda, how could I forget?”  Your heart threatened to burst out the side of your neck as blood rushed through every part of your body.  

“And this is why you wanted the boys to stay with Vision this weekend?” “Do you want to keep asking questions or do you want to try it out?”

Her lips crashed into yours before you could get another thought out.  Instinctively your hands found their way to her waist, pulling her body flush against yours.  She sighed into your mouth, her soft hands gently tugging at your hair.  No matter how many times you did it, kissing Wanda never got old.  Each kiss was a new experience, a new sensation that you perpetually craved.  She was the most entrancing woman in the entire world and she was all yours.

“So how does this work?” Wanda asked breathlessly as you nibbled on the sensitive spot under her jaw.

“Dunno,” you mumbled between kisses, your grip on Wanda tightening as soon as you felt her swoon ever so slightly.  “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“This won’t fall down, right?” she asked.  Her hands trailed down from your head to the buttons at the front of your shirt.  You shook your head, recoiling slightly as you felt her cold hands brush your chest as she tore at your clothes.

“Hope not.”  You undid the button on her jeans, your fingers slinking inside the waistband.

“Hope not?”

“I mean it should be good.  Don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”

Wanda chuckled as she shook her head.  She knew that you would’ve double and triple checked to make sure the swing wouldn’t fall down the second she got into it.  

“So how do I get in?  Do I just-?”

“I think you just sit back into it and put your legs in the straps,” you replied, stepping out of your jeans and boxers and kicking them behind you.  

Wanda, now in her long sleeve shirt and panties, carefully looked behind her as she grabbed the leather support straps and allowed herself to sink into the swing.  She fell back with an emphatic oomph, tentatively repositioning herself as the two of you prayed she wouldn’t immediately come crashing down.  

“How is it?” you asked, slinking over to the swing and positioning yourself between her legs.

“It’s actually pretty comfortable,” she observed.  “Can you help me get my legs up?”

“Yeah, but let’s get these off first,” you replied, teasing the palm of your hand between her legs.  Wanda whimpered at your touch, a jolt of excitement running through her body as her hips bucked into your hand.  You smirked at her as you pulled off the lace garment, tossing it over your shoulder.  “Leg.”

Wanda lifted her leg up as you grabbed the extended stirrup, guiding her foot through the loop so that her leg sat bent against the swing.  You gently grabbed her other leg unprompted, guiding it to the same position.

“I am definitely going to feel that tomorrow,” Wanda joked.  She reached one hand forward and grabbed your cock.

“Oh yeah?” you stifled a slight groan as she began to pump her hand up and down your length.  

“I’ve already got that bad hip, Y/N.  Let’s see how much more damage you can do.”  

You felt yourself twitch under her grip, hardening as you rocked into her hand.  Luckily you were able to grab the metal bar at the top of the swing to steady yourself.  

“You okay there?” she teased.  You groaned in response, leaning forward to capture her lips between yours.  She smiled into the kiss, knowing full well the intoxicating effect she had on you.

“You gonna keep distracting me or are you gonna let me-?”

“If you don’t put that inside me soon I may actually die.”

“Somebody’s dramatic.” “It’s my birthday, I can be as dramatic as I want today.”

“Is that so?” You grabbed the base of your cock, positioning yourself against her entrance.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded.  

Instead of pushing yourself inside her, you rubbed your head against her folds, coating yourself in the wetness that was pooling between her legs.  Wanda threw her head back and groaned.  She gripped the straps tightly as you teased her, dipping the tip inside briefly before pulling out and sliding around her clit.

“Is this what you wanted, Wands?”

“Y/N, please,” she pleaded in a tone that was uncharacteristically whiny.

With little warning, you pressed yourself into Wanda, her slick folds parting with ease as you buried your length inside her.  The feeling of her warm, wet walls around you elicited a groan from the deepest part of your core.

“Oh my god,” Wanda groaned, her eyes rolling back as you entered her at an entirely new angle for the first time.  “Baby, oh my god.”

“That okay?” you asked.

“Move,” she ordered as she screwed her eyes shut.

You didn’t need to be told twice.  Taking a firm grip on the straps, you rolled your hips into her.  The moan that erupted from her lips was pornographic.  Her body strained and tightened as your cock rubbed against the most sensitive part of her walls.  She squeezed against you as you thrust in and out, forcing you to work harder than normal.

“Fuck,” you gasped, biting your lip as Wanda’s wetness engulfed you over and over again.  

“Right there, Y/N, don’t stop,” Wanda begged.  Her hand came up to rest against your stomach as you picked up your pace, pounding into her slick pussy as you pulled the swing toward you.

“You feel so good, Wands.”

“I love the way your cock feels inside me, baby.  You always-fuck, that’s the spot right there-” Wanda let out a groan, unable to finish her thought as you pulled against the swing, changing the angle ever so slightly.

“You like that?” you gritted through clenched teeth, attempting to stave off your impending orgasm.  

“I’m close,” she whimpered, arching her back against the swing.  “Keep going, just like that.”

“Wanda, I’m gonna cum,” you whined.  “Should I pull-”

“Inside.  Please.  Fill me up.  I want to feel you finish inside me.”

Wanda’s words drove you over the edge.  You groaned loudly as you came inside her, painting her with your seed.  The sensation of being filled with your cum sent Wanda over the edge, too.  She moaned your name over and over as you filled her up, squeezing every last drop from you.

The two of you came down from your highs in a sweaty tangle of naked bodies and leather and nylon.  You collapsed on top of her, panting into her chest as your legs buckled under the ecstasy of your orgasm.  Wanda leaned back, rubbing her hands through her hair as she struggled to control her breathing.

“Best birthday present ever,” she panted.  “I am so sending the boys to Vision’s more often.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.  I don’t think it’s possible for us to use this quietly,” you chuckled.  “I’ve never heard you moan like that before.”

“That’s because you just gave me the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“So what I’m hearing is I need to cum inside you more often.”

“What you’re hearing is I need you to have your way with me in this swing more often.”

“Round two then?” you quipped.

“You’re on.”