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onegayastronaut · 20 hours ago

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Home for the Holidays

Words: 2402

The mornings in Westview had a comforting rhythm, especially during the holiday season. The sun spilled golden light over the neatly trimmed hedges dusted with snow and pastel-colored houses adorned with twinkling lights, waking the quiet streets with a gentle glow. In your little cul-de-sac, life moved at its own serene pace, a stark contrast to the chaos that often lay just outside its borders. Here, the days began with the warm scent of coffee, the rustle of newspapers, and the soft hum of companionship.

You were perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, a steaming mug in hand, as Agatha bustled around the room. She wore her usual cozy cardigan, now complemented by a festive scarf, her dark curls slightly disheveled, and her expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. Wanda, still wrapped in her scarlet robe, stood nearby, her hands deftly moving as she flicked through a recipe book. Every so often, she would glance up at you with a smile that made your heart flutter.

“You’re going to burn the gingerbread again, Agatha,” Wanda teased, her Sokovian accent soft in the morning air.

“I am not going to burn it,” Agatha shot back, wagging a butter knife in her hand. “And even if I did, you’d just magic it back to perfection, wouldn’t you, darling?”

You chuckled, taking a sip of your coffee. The gentle banter between them was as much a part of your mornings as the sunrise. It was a rhythm you had grown to adore since the three of you decided to settle here together, away from the complications of your past lives. This little suburban bubble was your haven.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Wanda said, turning her gaze to you. “Everything alright?”

You nodded, setting your mug down and hopping off the counter. “Just enjoying the view,” you replied, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind. She leaned into your embrace, her body warm and familiar against yours.

Agatha cleared her throat dramatically, drawing both your attention. “If you two could pause your sappy moment for a second, I’d appreciate some help hanging these stockings.”

“Oh, she’s jealous,” Wanda said with a smirk, her green eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Jealous?” Agatha snorted, though the corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Sweetheart, I don’t get jealous. I’m far too mature for that.”

“Mhm, sure,” you teased, releasing Wanda to grab the stockings from the nearby box. “Where would you like these, oh wise and mature one?”

Agatha swatted lightly at your arm with a dish towel, a grin breaking through her mock-annoyance. Moments like this felt like the glue holding your unconventional little family together. You weren’t just partners; you were a team, a well-practiced trio learning to navigate life’s small joys and challenges together.

After breakfast, you all fell into the easy flow of your holiday routine. Agatha tended to the garden, humming under her breath as she hung string lights along the hedges with an almost magical touch. Wanda worked on a cross-stitch pattern by the bay window, occasionally pausing to sip her tea and admire Agatha through the glass. You found yourself on the porch swing, a book in your lap, basking in the quiet contentment of the moment.

When the door creaked open and Wanda stepped outside, you scooted over to make room. She sank down beside you, her hand immediately finding yours.

“You know,” she said softly, her thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin, “it’s days like these that remind me why we chose this place.”

“Peaceful, isn’t it?” you replied, leaning your head against her shoulder.

“It is,” she agreed, then added with a playful glint in her eyes, “Though I think Agatha secretly misses the chaos sometimes. She’d never admit it.”

“Hey, I heard that!” Agatha called from the garden, waving a strand of lights in mock indignation. “And I don’t miss it. I just have… a healthy appreciation for the dramatic, that’s all.”

Both you and Wanda burst out laughing, your voices mingling in the crisp winter air. Agatha’s theatrical flair was just another thing you adored about her.

The afternoon was spent in the kitchen, where Wanda and Agatha engaged in an impromptu gingerbread house competition. Flour and icing dusted every surface, including your nose, as you acted as the impartial judge. Wanda’s house was perfectly constructed and decorated with precision, while Agatha’s had a rustic charm that matched her personality.

“So, who’s the winner?” Wanda asked, leaning against the counter with a confident smirk.

“Obviously me,” Agatha declared, before you could even open your mouth. “Look at this masterpiece!” She gestured to her slightly crooked but undeniably creative structure.

You pretended to deliberate, taking another bite of a gingerbread cookie. “Hmm, I think the real winner here is me,” you said, grinning. “I get to eat all of this.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face was impossible to miss. Agatha crossed her arms, her expression mock-serious. “Fine, we’ll call it a tie. But only because I’m feeling generous.”

As the day faded into evening, the three of you found yourselves on the couch, wrapped in a shared blanket. Wanda rested her head on your shoulder, her fingers intertwined with yours, while Agatha leaned against the armrest, her feet propped up in your lap. The warm glow of the Christmas tree lights bathed the room in a soft ambiance. A holiday movie played on the television, though none of you were paying much attention. It was enough just to be there together, surrounded by the warmth of your little family.

“I don’t say it often,” Agatha began, her voice softer than usual, “but I’m glad we found this. Found each other.”

Wanda lifted her head, her eyes meeting Agatha’s across the dimly lit room. “Me too,” she said, her voice filled with quiet sincerity.

You squeezed Wanda’s hand, your heart full. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “Well, lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

The following morning brought the first real snowstorm of the season. Heavy flakes drifted down in a soft, steady rhythm, blanketing the town in a pristine layer of white. You stood by the window, sipping your coffee and marveling at the peaceful scene outside.

“It’s perfect,” Wanda said, joining you with her own mug. She leaned her head against your shoulder, her breath warm against your neck.

“Perfect for staying inside,” you said, glancing over at Agatha, who was layering up in an impressive number of scarves. “Where are you off to?”

“I promised Mrs. Abernathy I’d help her fix her lights,” Agatha replied, rolling her eyes as if to downplay the act of kindness. “The poor woman’s been wrestling with that inflatable Santa for days.”

Wanda grinned. “You’re such a softie, Agatha.”

“Oh, hush,” Agatha said, though the faint blush on her cheeks was unmistakable. She grabbed her coat and a tin of cookies you’d baked together the day before. “Don’t wait up for me.”

As the door shut behind her, Wanda pulled you toward the couch. “Looks like it’s just us. What should we do?”

You smirked, setting your mug down. “I have a few ideas.”

By the time Agatha returned, the house was filled with the warm aroma of mulled wine and the sound of soft holiday music. She stomped the snow off her boots in the entryway, her cheeks rosy from the cold.

“Smells good in here,” she said, shrugging off her coat. “What did I miss?”

“Not much,” Wanda replied, handing her a glass of wine. “Just a very competitive game of Scrabble.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “And who won?”

You and Wanda exchanged a look. “It’s… still up for debate,” you said, earning a laugh from Agatha.

The rest of the evening was spent decorating the tree. Ornaments from past years were unpacked, each one sparking a story or memory that filled the room with laughter. Wanda carefully placed a delicate glass star at the top, her powers steadying it in place. Agatha stood back, her arms crossed, surveying the final result.

“Not bad,” she said, feigning indifference. “Could use more glitter, though.”

“You and glitter,” Wanda teased, nudging her playfully.

“It’s an art form,” Agatha shot back, winking at you.

As the night wore on, the three of you curled up on the couch once more, watching the snow fall outside. Agatha’s hand rested lightly on your knee, Wanda’s fingers intertwined with yours. It was moments like this that made everything else fade away. The world outside could wait. For now, this was all that mattered.

The next morning brought with it a plan for a holiday craft day, an idea Agatha had proposed with surprising enthusiasm. The dining table was soon covered in ribbons, glue sticks, construction paper, and an assortment of tiny baubles. Wanda’s precision was unmatched as she folded intricate origami stars, while Agatha opted for a more “free-spirited” approach, resulting in a papier-mâché snowman that leaned heavily to one side.

“It’s avant-garde,” Agatha declared when you raised an eyebrow at her creation. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand,” you teased, gluing sequins onto a homemade card. “I understand you’ve created a snowman who looks like he’s had a little too much eggnog.”

Wanda giggled, her eyes sparkling as she added finishing touches to her own wreath. “It’s charming, Agatha. Very you.”

The day passed in a blur of glitter and laughter, the three of you fully embracing the silliness of it all. By the time evening rolled around, the house was a sparkling testament to your combined efforts, with handmade decorations adorning every available surface.

On Christmas Eve, you decided to exchange small, heartfelt gifts. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, and the scent of spiced cider filled the room. Wanda handed you a neatly wrapped package first, her eyes filled with quiet anticipation. Inside was a hand-knitted scarf in deep, warm tones that matched your favorite coat perfectly.

“I’ve been working on it for weeks,” she admitted, her cheeks faintly pink. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you said sincerely, pulling her into a hug. “It’s perfect.”

Agatha’s gift to you was less traditional but no less thoughtful: an enchanted charm that glowed faintly when you held it. “For protection,” she said casually, though her expression was unusually tender. “Not that you need it with us around, but it never hurts.”

“Thank you, Agatha,” you said, your voice soft as you met her gaze. “I’ll treasure it.”

The gifts you had for them were simple but heartfelt—a custom-made journal for Wanda to sketch her designs and record her thoughts, and a vintage cookbook for Agatha, complete with handwritten notes from you on which recipes to try first.

That night, as you all sat by the tree, the room glowing with warmth and love, Agatha pulled out an old record player and placed a vinyl on the turntable. The soft strains of a classic holiday tune filled the air, and she extended a hand to Wanda.

“Dance with me,” she said with a small smile, her tone teasing yet sincere.

Wanda hesitated for only a moment before taking her hand. They swayed together in the dim light, their movements easy and natural. After a while, Wanda reached out to you, pulling you into their circle. The three of you moved together, a quiet rhythm of love and connection weaving between you. It was in that moment, with the snow falling softly outside and the world reduced to the warmth of your shared embrace, that you felt truly, completely home.

Christmas morning arrived with a sense of magic in the air. The three of you woke to the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains, the snow outside glistening like diamonds. Agatha was the first to get out of bed, claiming she had to "check on something," leaving you and Wanda to savor the cozy warmth of the blankets for a little longer.

When you finally made your way downstairs, you found Agatha in the kitchen, humming softly as she flipped pancakes shaped like stars and snowflakes. The dining table was already set, adorned with holly and candles, making the morning feel even more special.

“Pancakes for Christmas?” you asked, grinning as you leaned against the doorway.

“Pancakes and mimosas,” Agatha corrected, motioning to a tray of glasses filled with sparkling orange juice. “I figured we’d start the day right.”

Wanda appeared a moment later, her face lighting up at the sight of the spread. “It looks beautiful, Agatha.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Agatha quipped, though the pride in her eyes was clear. “This is a once-a-year kind of effort.”

The three of you settled at the table, sharing stories and laughter over breakfast. Agatha’s pancakes were surprisingly good, though she claimed it was her “innate culinary genius” rather than the cookbook you’d given her the night before.

After breakfast, it was time for the annual snowball fight—a tradition that had started your first winter in Westview. Bundled up in coats and scarves, you headed to the backyard, where the pristine snow was perfect for forming snowballs. Agatha, ever the strategist, immediately began building a snow fort, while Wanda used her powers to craft perfectly round snowballs with uncanny precision.

“You’re cheating!” Agatha called, dodging one of Wanda’s throws.

“It’s called being efficient,” Wanda replied, her laughter ringing out as she launched another snowball.

You joined in the fray, your sides aching from laughing as Agatha’s fort crumbled under the onslaught of Wanda’s precision and your sneak attacks. By the end of it, all three of you were breathless and covered in snow, collapsing onto the ground in a heap of giggles.

As the sun began to set, you returned inside to warm up by the fire. Hot cocoa was passed around, topped with marshmallows and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Agatha leaned back against the couch, her eyes half-closed as she sipped her drink.

“This,” she said softly, “is what it’s all about. Days like this.”

Wanda nodded, her hand finding yours. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

You smiled, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the life you’d built together. The holidays weren’t about grand gestures or elaborate celebrations—they were about moments like these, filled with love, laughter, and the warmth of family.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x agatha #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagine

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ironstrange1991 · 2 days ago

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Unexpectedly Ours: Part 2: What It Does To Us

Pairing: Doctor!Strange, Defender!Strange, Supreme!Strange x Pregnant!Reader

Synopsis: As the first weeks go by, the reader tries to understand how she feels about being pregnant while the Stephens begin to be affected by it in a very intense way.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Pregnancy related themes, polyamorous relationship dynamics, SMUT: Oral sex with male receiving, finger fucking, unprotected p n v sex, squirting, creampie, pregnancy kink.

A/N: It took me 11 months to finish this chapter and I am so proud of what I did here. Has been a while since I posted a smut fic and this one is pretty filth and I won't apologize for that. Hope you guys enjoy it and have a nice reading ;)

CHAPTER ONE SERIES MASTERLIST

Being pregnant was much more exciting in the movies than in real life. The first twelve weeks were being extremely challenging for you because everything was new. The nausea continued for the first two months and began to lessen as you entered the end of the first trimester, but with the end of the morning vomiting came other sensations that you were still learning to live with.

But the pregnancy also brought something extremely positive from the point of view of your peace of mind: the Stephens had stopped fighting - at least in front of you - and the Sanctum was immersed in a collective understanding that nothing in the world could upset you, and of course, you were very grateful for that.

You were getting a lot more attention too, which, in some ways, still seemed like it wasn't enough because the pregnancy made you even more clingy to your men than you already were and even though they hadn't been going on missions together since finding out about the pregnancy to not leave you alone, they still needed to go to work and you needed to work too and you missed them a lot when you were apart, much more than you considered normal. It was almost a physical pain.

You couldn't tell which of the Stephens was happier about the pregnancy. Defender, of course, was happy from the first moment, but after the initial shock wore off, Supreme embarked on that pregnancy with you with an infectious happiness and Stephen simply couldn't contain his happiness, he was with you all the time, telling you how happy he was and how he couldn't wait to finally meet his baby. His baby. You loved how the question of paternity proved to be something natural for them. They were the same man, had the same DNA and were the fathers of your baby. Never, ever, did they question whether it was possible to know which of them had fathered the child. And you loved them even more for it. Basically, you felt like the most loved person in the world and what woman wouldn’t like to feel that way?

The pregnancy was also making noticeable changes in you, both emotionally and physically. As if it were possible, you felt like you loved them even more. You could barely keep that feeling in your chest and you were so needy all the time and the Stephens were loving it. They took turns so that you always had one of them around and they made sure to keep you close to them at all times, whether it was cuddling on the couch, in bed, or accompanying them to their readings at the library. You just needed to be physically together.

Your libido also changed with the arrival of pregnancy hormones, it increased a lot and although you were already expecting some kind of change in this sense, you didn't imagine it would be something so strong, after all you already had a very high sex drive, but what you were experiencing was unprecedented. You were literally having sex all the time.

Every morning you woke up aroused and that particular morning was no different. You had barely opened your eyes, and your hands were already groping the mattress looking for Stephen, your body already begging for him. Opening your eyes you were graced by the sight of him sleeping beautifully beside you in his pajama pants and t-shirt, his face turned towards you, his expressions calm and comforting.

It was Monday morning and you needed to start the day, but you couldn't think of doing that without first getting what your body was asking for.

With the increase in libido, your lubrication increased alarmingly and as you watched Stephen sleeping, you could feel the wetness in your panties and before you knew you were squeezing your thighs together and biting your lip. Knowing full well that waking Supreme up in the morning wasn't exactly an easy task, but fully aware that you couldn't help it when you wanted him so much, you crawled closer to him and touched his face and kissed his lips lightly and called his name a few times. However, there was no sign of a response. You tried a few more times and then sighed in frustration, but soon a mischievous smile played on your lips and your hand went down to his cock, soft and hidden inside his pants.

While moving your hand slowly up and down his length, the smile on your lips turned into a soft moan when you felt him harden under your touch and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. Impatiently you knelt on the bed and slipped your hand inside his pants. He wasn't wearing any underwear, so you grabbed his cock and pulled it out and without thinking for a second, you bent down to put him in your mouth.

Stephen sighed heavily and shifted in bed, but he remained asleep as you licked his length up and down, took his balls in your mouth and sucked them eagerly while pumping him slowly. You never ceased to be amazed at what a heavy sleeper he was. You let out a chuckle and finally took him whole in your mouth being generous in the suction, using your tongue with desire.

Stephen’s hips bucked against your mouth as he let out something between a hiss and a moan and you knew he was awake because you felt his hand on your head, his fingers tangling in your hair and his legs shaking.

"H-honey... oh fuck." His voice broke with pleasure and he gave in to his beautiful little moans. With both hands he grabbed your hair and tied it into a makeshift ponytail, but he didn't push, just kept them out of your face so he could have a nice view of what you were doing to him.

"That's right, suck my cock just like that. Oh, fuck honey, I love it when you wake me up like this."

You responded with a hum and made sure to maintain eye contact as you sucked him, flicking your tongue over the head, going all the way in and taking him out of your mouth with a pop. Repeating the process over and over again.

"Mmm, you do it so good. May I ask what I did to deserve such a special treatment?"

You smiled your best smile and pulled away just enough for you to pull off your panties and move to straddle him, lifting your nightgown and rubbing the tip of his cock against your completely soaked folds.

"I just needed you. My body has been asking for you since I woke up." You confessed and he grinned widely. He was so proud for having you feeling like that and he didn’t even tried to hide. His narcissism showing.

"Hmm, those hormones are making you so needy. That’s what you’re saying?" He teased "Put me inside you, then. Let me stretch you out the way you need it, love."

You did exactly as he asked and moaned outrageously loudly as you let yourself sink down onto his cock, feeling the delicious stretch that only Stephen's big dick could provide you.

"Just like that, honey.” He hissed “Body is asking for me, huh? This little pussy is so fucking wet for me. Tell me how much you wanted my cock. Tell me you couldn't wait for me to wake up to fuck you because you were so needy. Tell me."

You moaned, resting both hands on his chest and began to move your hips up and down, gyrating them sensually at first, but doing it faster as the pleasure increased.

"I couldn't wait, Steph. My body feels weird now, wants you all the time." You confessed and he grabbed your waist, taking control and moving you on his cock just the way he wanted. Fast and hard. The sound of the love you were making filled the silence of the room and the smell of sex were all you could sense in the air.

"It's because you're pregnant with my baby, love. Body is full of these delicious hormones right now, letting you like this, begging for cock."

You moaned loudly, feeling his words making you even more horny than you already were. Somehow the pregnancy was a turn on for you as much as it was for him, and you loved it when he talked dirty to you about it, but that only made you feel more needy and somehow what he was giving you wasn’t enough anymore. You just needed so much more.

"Stephen... take me, fuck me harder." You whined and he quickly got the message placing you underneath him in one swift movement. He came on top of you, penetrating you again and grabbing the headboard to fuck you harder. His thrusts quickly became rough, his hips grinding against your core and providing delicious friction on your clit. Your legs wrapped around his waist and your nails scratched his back as you felt your body being quickly pushed to the limit.

The pregnancy also made your orgasms easier and faster, not to mention that they were more intense too and as Stephen fucked you and whispered in your ear how happy he was, how much he loved you and how good you felt, you knew you were close. Oh, so close.

"S-shit, such a warm pussy.” He groaned “This pregnant pussy is all mine, huh? Those mommy hormones are making you so fucking needy and I'm loving every second of it. Tell me how good I'm making you feel. Tell me, mommy."

You couldn't help but be surprised by the way he referred to you, but at the same time you almost came at the word. It was undeniable that you were also enjoying every second of it and you were so close, all you needed was a little push, so you decided to play along.

"So good, Steph. Please, don’t stop. I'm so close.”

“I won’t stop” He promised while keeping the pace of his thrusts, using his hand on the headboard for support.

Please, say it again." You begged.

As if possible, Stephen increased the force of his thrusts and buried his face in your neck indulging in his own pleasure and surrender to that new found fetish of yours.

"Such a dirty mommy letting me fuck this sweet pregnant pussy like this. Wanna cum inside this pussy, mommy, so fucking deep. Please, tell me you gonna take it. Tell me you want all of it. "

You moaned loudly, locking your legs behind his back and feeling the knot tightening in your stomach.

"Yes, Stephen, please, cum inside me. Make me cum."

Stephen let out an almost animalistic groan as he gave in to his own orgasm, cumming deep inside you and pulling you along with him. Your orgasm was intense and wet. Pregnancy had changed that too, most of your orgasms were squirting now because of the excess of lubrication and although you were always embarrassed by the mess, they loved it, especially Supreme. For that reason, there was a proud smile on his face as he pulled out and rolled onto his side of the bed.

"Fuck, honey! This was insane.” He praised “We should keep you pregnant from now on. Fill this house with kids and have sex like this every day."

You knew he wasn’t being serious, but his voice was serious enough to make you look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, right. Because morning sickness is one thing I want to keep in my life."

He chuckled, extending his arm for you to snuggle closer to him. "Okay, this part isn't much fun, but the squirting, come on, honey, you have to admit it's amazing."

You cuddled into his chest, resting your head on his shoulder and almost purring when he started scratching your scalp delicately.

"It's wet and messy." You complained to which he giggled.

"That's precisely why we like it so much."

"Hmm." You let yourself be pulled to his lips and he kissed you softly. Without giving much thought to what you were doing, you took one of his hands and began to play with his blackened fingers. Stephen no longer twitched when you did that, and you knew that was a good sign.

"So... mommy kink? That's new. I never took you for someone who liked to play on the submissive side." You teased, lifting your head enough to see the clock on the nightstand and being thankful that you still had a few minutes before you needed to get up.

Stephen smirked "I don't think we can classify it as mommy kink if I was in control the whole time." He replied proudly hurrying to correct you. "I'm not a submissive man. I leave that to Defender, but I have to admit that the idea of you being a mother turns me on. And the word mommy... fuck, it really does things to me."

"It does things to me too apparently... the way you say it." You confessed a little embarrassed. "I think we should enjoy the ride while it lasts because trust me, this will be the only pregnancy we'll have."

Stephen chuckled "We never know, you might break a pot of sex pollen again." He teased and you giggled cupping his face in your hand.

"You can keep dreaming." You gave him another kiss on the lips, this time longer and then whispered. "I love you so much."

He smiled "I love you too, honey. More than anything."

You sighed and then pulled away gently standing up. "We need to start the day. I have so much work at the office today and you promised Wong that you would take care of the training at Kamar Taj today and he doesn't allow delays."

Stephen sighed "I don't know what got into me to accept subjecting myself to this. Those students are all idiots and besides it should be a crime to have to work on a Monday morning."

"Don't let Defender hear you talking like that about his students and please behave yourself there." You almost begged as you bent down to pick up your panties from the floor and then pointed to the bed where a dark stain indicated how wet you had let the gray sheets. "You take care of that since you like it so much."

He smiled broadly "No problem."

Stephen took a few minutes before getting into the shower with you and although your body gave signs that it was ready for a second round, you finished your shower quickly knowing that you didn't have the time to start anything else. He finished showering and stood next to you at the sink and both of you brushed your teeth in silence. You loved that. The intimacy of doing mundane and routine things together made you feel life was worth living.

He quickly combed his hair and applied some deodorant and left leaving you there finishing your makeup. When you left the bathroom heading towards the closet to get dressed he was already dressed in his boots and blue robes and Cloaky opened the door and clung to his shoulders. You smiled as you watched the scene and contemplated the beauty of Supreme dressed like that. It was a sight you never got used to. Suddenly he wasn’t just your boyfriend anymore, he was the Master of the mystic arts, a powerful and feared sorcerer.

You were struggling to button the buttons of your suit skirt when he came closer and hugged you from behind, palming your belly completely unaware of the thoughts in your mind "Tummy is starting to show." He said, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You felt your heart fluttering in your chest, but sighed in frustration anyway "I'm losing all of my clothes."

He smirked like it wasn’t a big deal "Then you need to buy new clothes. Why don't you invite your girl friends to come with you? Take my card."

You turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to being able to look in his eyes. "Are you seriously offering your card to go shopping with my friends? What if I get a little out of control?"

He pulled you closer and kissed you sweetly. "That's why I took the job with the Avengers, honey, to give you whatever the fuck you want." He moved his fingers, and his credit card materialized between his index and middle fingers.

You smirked, taking it. "Okay, since you insist."

“I do.” He kissed you again and then sighed, "I really need to go now or I'll have to listen to Wong complain for the rest of the day."

"Poor students, they don't know what's in store for them today." You teased.

"Are you kidding? I'm the best thing they could have. I'll try to put something inside those useless heads."

You almost rolled your eyes, but instead went back to your herculean task of finding something that fit you and that you could wear to work.

...

In the afternoon you honored Stephen's wish and arranged to meet Natasha and Yelena at the mall. It wasn't often that you had a good excuse to spend money and it wasn't easy for your Avenger friends to have time for frivolous things, but everything seemed to fit perfectly and there you were trying on your thousandth piece of clothing - a hideous maternity jumpsuit that Yelena had made you try on just so she could tease you. The extravagant color and floral print were the worst part, but everything else didn't help and made you look like a birthday cake.

"Ridiculous," you complained as Yelena took a picture and quickly typed on her phone.

"Don't send that picture to anyone, Yelena!" You almost yelled. But it was too late. She lifted her phone, shaking it in her hand while laughing, and you heard your own phone and Natasha's buzzing simultaneously, indicating a message had arrived.

"I just wanted to liven things up a little on our Avengers WhatsApp group. God knows everything's been too quiet." She said.

"I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Tony's parties. It’s been quite a while." Nat confessed.

You sighed in defeat, closing the curtain of the dressing room again and getting rid of the hideous jumpsuit. You looked at the other pieces you hadn't tried on yet. Up until then, you had opted for formal clothes: pants, skirts, blouses, shirts. Clothes you could wear to work, but now there were some special pieces you wanted to try. One in particular had given you ideas for a special night and you decided to try it on right away. It was a short black dress with white polka dots and a full skirt made of tulle. It had a wonderful V-neckline that filled out your pregnancy swollen breasts very well, the fit of the skirt hid your protruding belly well and the long sleeves gave it a certain elegance, but at the same time the polka dot print made it youthful and casual. A smile played on your lips when you imagined the Stephens seeing you in that dress.

"Is everything okay in there?" You heard Nat's voice and cleared your throat opening the curtain so the girls could take a look.

"I think I like this one." You said excitedly and both of their jaws dropped.

"You look amazing!" Nat exclaimed and Yelena nodded in agreement.

"The lactation god did a great job on your boobs, and you're still in the beginning." Yelena stated making you blush and turn to look at your cleavage in the mirror. Your breasts were really big and the neckline of the dress wasn’t modest at all.

"Do you think it's too much?" You asked gesturing to the dress.

Nat shook her head. "It's perfect. I just think it might trigger a jealousy crisis." She teased.

"Wear it for a special night. Their birthday is coming up. That's reason enough to wear the dress and celebrate with all three of them at the same time." Yelena suggested, to which Nat groaned in frustration.

"She's so greedy! Most of us are struggling to get someone worthwhile and she has three!"

You smirked, looking back at yourself in the mirror. "Technically, I have one. I was just lucky enough to have two extra versions of him fall into my universe." You turned to the side to take a look at how the dress looked from the back and concluded, "But you're right, Yelena. That dress screams special occasion. Speaking of which, I have no idea what I'm going to do for their birthday. I need suggestions."

"I'm begging for a reason to throw a party." Yelena complained, but Nat immediately corrected her, "I don't think that's what Y/n has in mind. Besides, his birthday isn't until the end of November and we need a party before that if we don't want to go crazy with boredom."

"We don't need a reason to throw a party. We just need to suggest it to Tony and he'll do the rest." You said, closing the dressing room curtain again and putting the polka dot dress in the pile of clothes you had decided to buy.

Your shopping spree also yielded two more dresses, several pairs of shoes, lingerie and pajamas and a beautiful bag that you didn't have the heart to leave behind. You ended the afternoon in a beautiful coffee shop where you allowed yourself to give in to your pregnancy desires and ate a generous slice of red velvet with a pink lemonade. Overall, it was a lovely afternoon and you were so happy that it was impossible to express it in words. You no longer had any doubts that the unexpected pregnancy was being one of the best things that had ever happened to you.

...

Defender Strange was a man on a mission. Literally. He was returning to the Kamar Taj after a week away from home on a miserable mission that had not only left him bruised and tired but had also proven to be much more difficult than he had expected, and had a less than pleasant outcome with two seriously injured masters. He left them at the Metro General Hospital in the care of Christine Palmer, who by now was more than used to dealing with this type of situation, and then opened a portal to Kamar Taj where he met with Wong and gave a quick report on the outcome of the mission.

Finally, he thought to himself, he could go home. That was, in fact, his mission for the day: To finish everything as soon as possible and go home to the arms of the woman he loved and who happened to be pregnant with his child. He smiled to himself at the mere thought.

Sometimes he had to convince himself that he wasn't dreaming when he thought about it. For someone who had lost everyone he knew and ended up alone in an unknown universe, he was doing pretty well. Much more than well, in fact. Defender Strange's life was perfect, even considering that he was sharing the love of his life with two other versions of himself.

He would be lying if he said that it bothered him after all this time. Sure, he didn't like the fighting, Supreme's constant teasing, or Stephen's passive-aggressive jealousy, but overall, he was used to that life, and he was happy with it. More than he ever imagined he could be.

When he opened the portal to the main hall of the Sanctum he was greeted by the characteristic silence that indicated that no one was home. Stephen and Supreme were probably sorting something out with the Avengers and you hadn't come home yet. He sighed, feeling relief overcoming him and the tiredness finally setting in, and then he went upstairs to his room, took a long, hot shower and put on comfortable clean clothes for the first time in a week. He ended up in the kitchen looking for something to eat, but gave up when he realized he would have to cook and decided to order food from his favorite Italian restaurant. It was Wednesday, but he didn't care, he was more than convinced that he deserved it for having dealt with hostile forces that wanted to cause harm to the world once again. The bruises and cuts all over his body, the result of the battle, proved it.

He ended up sprawled on the couch with a book and a cup of tea while waiting for the food to arrive and that was how you found him when you got home. He was distracted enough in his reading to not hear the sound of the door, but your sweet voice made his heart flutter.

"Hi there!" You greeted, leaving your purse and keys on the counter in the hallway and heading towards him. And god, you looked beautiful. A week without seeing you and somehow everything seemed different. Your belly, under a navy blue suit skirt and a white linen shirt, seemed to be bigger, your breasts seemed bigger too and there was a glow to your skin that definitely had something to do with the pregnancy. There was no way it was all in his head. You looked stunning.

"Thought you'd only be back by weekend." You said, coming closer and he sat on the couch, opening his arms to welcome you in them. "Look at those cuts! I hate to see you hurt, Stephen."

He sighed, feeling the delicate touch of your hand on his face and smiled reassuringly, "I'm fine. I also thought we'd only make it by the weekend, but we were lucky. Well, at least some of us were."

You frowned, letting yourself be pulled to sit on his lap. "What happened?"

"Two masters got seriously injured. I left them at the hospital and Christine said they both needed surgery."

"That's terrible." You replied, biting your lower lip and trying to hide it, but Stephen could clearly see your discomfort at the mention of Dr. Palmer's name.

"What is it?" He pressed and you gave in.

"You and Christine together. I know it's silly, especially given the circumstances, but I can't help but feel a bit jealous."

He knew. In a way he even found it cute. "Don't be silly.” He said pinching your cheek. You have no idea how eager I was to come home and have you like this in my arms. Christine never meant anything to me, and this one I barely know."

You nodded we a sweet pout. "I know. I hope your friends will be okay."

He smiled, caressing your back absently. "Me too. Now, tell me, how are you? I don't know, you seem different from the last time we saw each other." He instinctively moved his hand down to your belly. Deep down, Stephen knew it was too early for you to feel anything yet. You were thirteen weeks pregnant and from what he had read, the baby's first movements wouldn't start until the sixteenth week, but he was anxious. Sometimes he seemed even more anxious than you.

You cupped his hand gently on top of your belly. "I'm fine. We're fine. The nausea has pretty much stopped now, but I still feel different all the time. I know it's the hormones, but I feel so needy and on top of that I'm hungry all the time and I've been craving sweets even more than usual." You confessed, pouting adorably, which made him smile.

"I think everything is normal then, and to be honest, I don't mind if you gain a few extra pounds." He teased, knowing full well that you would feel outraged by the comment.

"But I do mind!" You immediately shot back. "My clothes don't fit anymore and I'm not coping. Well, I admit I liked the fact that Supreme let me shop with my friends his card last week."

Defender chuckled in disbelief. "He really did that? How naive of him. Tell me at least you took advantage of the opportunity."

You nodded. "Very much. I even took the opportunity to buy you guys a gift. I thought I'd use it on a special night when the four of us are together."

Stephen moaned involuntarily. It was useless to try to pretend that he didn't love your nights together. He always had the most intense orgasms watching you with the other Stephens.

He lifted your chin and kissed you gently. "And what about... are they still happening?" He asked watching your face blush in delight. You knew exactly what he was talking about, but you just nodded. He had to insist on a precise answer. He couldn't stop thinking about it during all the days he was away from home. He needed to know what chances he had of being rewarded with it that night. "Last time you said you couldn't finish without it happening. Still the same?"

"Yes. It's a nightmare. I don't know why you guys like it so much!"

He smirked kissing you again this time a bit harder and feeling his body responding to the desire and the lack he felt for you with a prominent erection that he didn't try to hide. On the contrary, he took your hand and brought it to his hip making you feel it over the pajama pants he was wearing.

"Because it's not a common thing, baby. Most women can't squirt, it's something you see in movies, but we're lucky enough to have at home every night now." He explained, squeezing your hand around his painfully hard erection and finishing, "Feel what just talking about it does to me." He said burying his face in the crook of your neck and giving you pulse point a little kiss.

You felt your skin prickling, but hold his head in your hands making him look at you and nodded to make sure you understood. You cupped his cheek and pulled him to your lips and his lips parted instinctively, letting you dominate the kiss and an almost embarrassing moan escaped his throat, making you chuckle, but you broke the kiss and, against his will, got up from his lap.

"I'm very flattered that I got you so excited without any effort, but I need a shower and food first, baby."

"That's fair enough." Stephen agreed, reluctantly letting go of your hand. "I ordered food. It should be here any minute now."

You nodded, biting your lip. "Are you coming with me?"

Oh, he wanted it. But he knew it wasn't a good idea if all you wanted was company in the shower. He needed a lot more than that. "I won't let you shower if I go up now. But trust me, baby, I'll have you all to myself tonight. I deserve this much." He said, making his intentions for the night very clear before the other Stephens arrived. Defender wasn't usually jealous, and he didn't mind sharing, in fact he quite enjoyed it, but tonight, after a week without you, he didn't feel inclined to do so. Your squirting would be all for him.

"Okay. I'll be back in a minute." You said giggling as if you could read his mind.

The food arrived ten minutes later and he set up a tray for you to eat in the living room while watching TV. There was a new serial killer show on Netflix that had just been released and he knew you would enjoy watching it with him because it was your kind of thing, so he opened a bottle of red for him and got you a can of Coke, turned the lights down low and waited impatiently for you to come downstairs to join him.

Defender valued good taste. The table set beautifully, candles and all, but sometimes it was nice to keep things more informal and you liked that. In fact, he had a feeling that it was that informality that made you like your Stephen so much. Christ, at first, he wanted to die when he heard you refer to the Stephen from your universe that way. He was more used to it now, but the jealousy was there, even if he didn't show it as much as Supreme. Actually, he was great at not showing when things were bothering him and that was more of a flaw than a talent, but luckily for him, you were great at reading him.

He was finishing organizing everything when you came down wearing a tiny baby doll made of red satin and black lace. You smiled from ear to ear when you saw that you would be having dinner in the living room - just as he had predicted.

"I forgot to mention that I bought this too." You informed him, biting your lip and turning a little so he could see the whole thing. The top was made entirely of black lace, the neckline was generous and your pregnant breasts filled it out wonderfully. The shorts made of red satin had a high waist, but were short enough that he could see half of your cheeks adorned by the black lace hem.

"So, what do you think?" You asked, approaching him and he opened his arms, wrapping you in a tight hug, but his hands were quick to go down to your ass and give it a little squeeze.

"I think you look gorgeous, but that's nothing new. You always look beautiful to me." He said, kissing you sweetly.

"Hmm, always a flatterer. I love that about you, Defender Strange." You confessed between kisses, but then insisted, "But I'm specifically referring to my little outfit. You know I bought it with you in mind, don't you?"

Oh, he knew. "Of course I do. Black and red.” He said with a proud smirk in his lips. “It's perfect. Very sexy, but delicate. Just like you. And the fact that you bought it for me using Supreme's money makes everything even better."

You chuckled, "It wasn't intentional! I just bought it. I didn't think about it that way when I did." You defended yourself, and then pointed out, "But he said I could buy whatever I wanted so... I kind of went crazy there. I bought a gorgeous Chanel purse too."

He laughed softly, and then lifted your chin to kiss you again, this time with more intensity, more tongue. Fuck, he missed you so much. Having you in his arms like that after the week he had was like heaven, but as a reminder that your food was waiting and getting cold, your stomach growled surprisingly loud which made both of you giggle.

"Food first." He gave in.

"I guess so. After all, now I'm eating for two." You said and he instinctively put his hand to your belly. It was still tiny, but a week had made a difference. It felt like a little ball right below your belly button that he could cup with his hand. It was firm and soft at the same time and feeling it made him feel in an inexplicable way. It was as if when he put his hand on your belly the pregnancy stopped being something abstract and became concrete. Real.

"I love it. I love our baby." He said resting his forehead on yours and watching you close your eyes and practically purr for him.

"I love it too. I feel so blessed to have it. This little part of you inside of me. Sometimes I think my heart is going to burst with joy."

He kissed your forehead lingeringly. "That's exactly how I'm feeling right now." He confessed, but then pulled away gently and sat on the couch. "Come on, let's eat."

You ate slowly while watching and commenting on the events on screen. You were particularly disappointed with the story, although you insisted that you were enjoying it.

"I thought they were serial killers like Jeffrey Dahmer, but they're the victims." You blurted out and then downed the rest of your Coke. "I mean, I'm enjoying the story, but I'd rather see serial killers killing people."

Stephen couldn't help but laugh. "Do you have any idea how creepy that sentence is?"

You smiled, placing your plate and glass on the coffee table. "Don't worry, baby, I would never kill you."

That made him laugh. He finished his glass and refilled it for the third time. "I appreciate that." He said, taking another long sip of his red. Defender didn't usually drink, but on some nights he would allow himself a few glasses to relax and that was exactly what he need most that night.

"They're kinda cute, though. Are we supposed to really hate them?" You asked, moving closer and snuggling close to him. He wrapped his arms around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder, giving you a little kiss on the top of your head. You were cute. Everything about you was so ridiculously adorable that Stephen found himself wondering how it was possible for someone to be so perfect. And he knew you weren't perfect because no one is, but even your flaws were adorable, even when you pissed him off you managed to make him love you more and more.

You interrupted his train of thought when you turned your head to look at him and caught him admiring you.

"I thought you’d fell asleep. You got quiet." You said and he smiled.

"I was thinking about how much I love you, and how I adore everything you do, everything you say." He admitted watching you blush subtly "And I think we can continue watching tomorrow because now I'm going to take you to my room and I'm going to make love to you over and over until you squirt all over me."

You giggled watching him steal the remote and turn off the TV.

"Sounds really good to me." You said.

Stephen practically dragged you to his room. He was counting the minutes until he could finally touch you the way he wanted and even though he was extremely anxious, he started by closing the door, gently holding your hand and directing you to his bed. There, he touched your face and kissed you. Your lips parted slowly allowing him to deepen the kiss and a sweet hum escaped your throat as he felt his chest warm with the sound.

You had been together for a long time, long enough for him to have gotten used to the feeling of having you in his arms, but still every time it made him feel like it was the first time.

His hands went down from your face to the sides of your body and he found himself groping at you, squeezing every inch of your waist, your hips, your buttocks, literally feeling you with his hands and instinctively grinding his hips against you like a fucking teenager. But that was how you made him feel sometimes, like he was totally inexperienced. Stephen had never loved before. Not the way he loved you.

But he was lucky enough to be sure that you were as crazy about him as he was about you. You had to be, there was no other explanation for you wanting three versions of him and besides, he could see it in every gesture, every word and more than that, in the physical reactions of your body when you were together. Like now, the way your breathing was faster with every hungry kiss you exchanged, the way your hands imitated his and searched his body and pulled him closer until you were glued to each other and the sweet and beautiful moans that escaped your throat as he delighted himself in you.

Impatiently, Stephen allowed himself to undress you. He started with the top of your little baby doll. His trembling fingers pulled the hem of your top up as you raised both arms allowing him to take it off. Immediately, he cupped one of your breasts and without holding back he lowered himself to take a nipple in his mouth. You moaned loudly and your hand grabbed his hair. He could stay like that for hours, fondling your breast and sucking on your nipple, but after a minute he resisted the temptation and returned to his task.

"It's always a very difficult task to deviate the attention from them." He confessed vocalizing his thoughts, which made you giggle and instinctively grab your breasts and start playing with them.

"They're more sensitive now." You said biting your lower lip "And bigger. I like them like that."

He smirked, holding your chin with his index finger and thumb. "And you think I didn't notice that? Baby, that was the first thing I noticed when I laid eyes on you."

That made you giggle even harder, and the sound filled his ears like music. He continued with his mission, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down in one go, helping you get rid of them and finally be naked for him. His lips searched for yours, but they didn't stop there. He continued giving little kisses on the side of your neck and on your shoulders and continued down until he reached your belly. He basked himself there, giving little kisses and cupping the little appendage with his hand, caressing it and trying to get used to everything it made him feel.

Stephen always thought that fatherhood would be something almost sacred, and indeed it was, but somehow he felt so dirty feeling his cock throb while he had his hand on your belly. Was that something normal? Did all fathers feel that way about their pregnant women?

"Shit." He cursed, reaching for his cock and squeezing it lightly to get some relief. "Baby, you have no idea how hard I am right now. It's almost painful."

You smiled proudly at him, tangling your fingers in his hair. "You're the one who's prolonging this."

"Because I want to worship you. You're like a goddess to me. I need to worship you first."

That made you blush and in a way it was cute to think that you were still shy around him. "And I'm still learning how the pregnancy makes me feel. Is it weird to get horny because of it?" He genuinely asked.

You shook your head. "Not really. I found out it's quite common."

"The others..." He began, but you answered him immediately.

"Yes. They feel that way too." You replied smiling. "And so do I. I had a discovering recently with Supreme..." You stopped wondering if you should continue or not and he noticed.

"Tell me about it." He encouraged. Deep down he liked to hear you talk about your moments with the other Stephens. He even stopped finding it weird with time.

He watched you blush before answering.

"It was silly, but he called me mommy and it kind of made me... well, it made me feel something."

Defender smiled holding your chin "A beautiful mommy indeed." He teased and kissed you softly. You hummed in his lips, but placed both hands on his chest gently pushing him away and taking control for yourself.

"Let me take these clothes off." You said firmly grabbing the fabric of his shirt and pulling it off, leaving him only in his pants. You bit your bottom lip, and he watched with some pride the way your eyes feasted on him. Unable to contain yourself, you brought your hand to his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his warm skin. Your fingertips played with his nipples, making them hard and sensitive, and he couldn't help but tilt his head back and let out a soft moan when you took one of them into your mouth, sucking slowly and running the tip of your tongue over it.

Defender bit his lip hard to contain another moan when you moved to the other nipple, adding your teeth to the sum and you tsked, raising your eyes to look at him. "Let me hear you. I like to hear the sweet sounds you make, baby."

He nodded, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling you back to his lips and begging. "Take me in your mouth, baby. I can't wait any longer."

You smiled mischievously at him, "Feeling impatient, are we?"

He nodded, "Please."

"Get comfy then." You asked and he sat up with his back supported by the pile of pillows. He watched as you opened and closed the nightstand drawer and tied your hair in a ponytail. When you turned your attention back to him, his cock was already throbbing under his pants and impatiently he snapped his fingers, getting rid of what was left of his clothes. You smirked but said nothing, just positioned yourself between his legs and took him in your hands. Stephen loved your touch. He loved that your hands were small and delicate and yet had such a firm and strong grip. He watched in wonder as you let a string of saliva fall from your lips to his tip and then slowly pumped him, making him wet. His eyes closed and he hit his head against the headboard. "Oh, that's right. So good."

You spat on his cock again and then took him into your mouth gently, swirling your tongue around his head slowly as your hands slid up and down. You knew exactly what worked for him. You knew he liked it slow, gentle and with the smallest of touches you could turn him into a moaning mess. You knew him so well.

"Fuck baby, little mouth feels so good." He praised and you hummed happily. One of the first things Stephen discovered about you was that you liked to be praised, and he never failed to use that to his advantage. "Such a good mommy taking my cook so perfectly." He said testing the word with you and you literally moaned into his cock.

You took him out of your mouth to breathe for a second and then went back to work determined to undo him completely. You took him all in your mouth this time going all the way down, taking him as much as you could without gagging and increasing the speed. The wet sound of his cock in your mouth was delicious and the sight of you on all fours sucking him was enough to make any man blow too quickly, but he was holding back as hard as he could.

"Baby, it feels so good, but I have to ask you to stop, don't wanna cum yet." He warned you.

But you took his words as a challenge apparently and even taking it out of your mouth you continued stroking slowly and took one of his balls in your mouth instead, sucking it delicately and making him see stars. He moaned loudly grabbing your hair harder than he should have, but you hummed in satisfaction and he knew very well that you were the one in control and he loved it.

"You want me to cum, don't you, baby? That's how you like it."

You hummed positively and he let go of the control indulging in his pleasure and taking his cock in his hand giving it a few strokes while you took turns sucking his balls. Unable to control himself, he held his cock by the base and lightly slapped it on your face. "Take it back in your mouth, love. Suck hard and make me cum. I know that's what you want. Wanna feel my warm cum in your mouth, right? Tell me you're going to swallow all of it."

You smiled satisfied with his dirty talk. Defender wasn't really into that, but that night you had made him extremely horny, and he just couldn't contain himself. Luckily you liked that, and he could see it in the way you rubbed your thighs together. He couldn't touch you, but he knew you were soaking wet, and he couldn't wait to be between your legs.

"Oh yeah" He moaned just from the thought and the delicious suction of your lips wrapped around his length. You twisted your hand at the base where you couldn't take him and started working with your tongue the way only you knew how to do and that made him buck his hips against your mouth to go even deeper. "Fuck yeah, baby. Don't stop. Just keep going. Keep sucking my dick just like that. Feels so good. So fucking good."

You moaned into his cock again and continued what you were doing masterfully and when he realized it he was moving your head on his dick completely lost in his own pleasure while feeling his balls getting tight. "Gonna cum, baby. Wanna take it in your mouth?" He asked, but before you could even answer he was spilling himself in your mouth. He couldn't help it.

"Oh shit! Take it baby, take all of it. F-fuck yeah."

And that's exactly what you did. Taking him proudly in your mouth without wasting any of it. You sucked him until he finished giving you the last drop and then took him out of your mouth with a proud little smile.

"Delicious" You praised crawling to his arms and kissing him gently, but he was far from satisfied and in one quick move he laid you down on the bed and came on top of you spreading your legs with his hips and kissing you hard.

"You're amazing, do you know that?" He said making you giggle.

"Well, if you say so..." But he interrupted you with another kiss, bringing two fingers into your folds.

"Shit, look at this! Aren't you ashamed of being all wet like this just from having my cock in your mouth?"

You bit your lip and shook your head.

"No? I know. You're dirty, aren't you, baby?"

"Just for you." You replied and he muffled a giggle of his own on your neck making your skin prickle with the sound and the rubbing of his beard in your sensitive skin. He penetrated you with his fingers gently making you moan and nibbled on your earlobe.

"For me and Stephen and Supreme." He teased while moving his fingers in and out of you.

"Yes" You confirmed nodding your head watching him kneel between your legs and smear the tip of his already completely hard cock with your slick and direct it at your entrance.

"Then tell me how much you want me, baby. Ask me to fuck you the way you ask them to."

You moaned lifting your hips desperately searching for him. "Please, Steph, fuck me. Want you so badly. Need your cock inside me. My body is filled with this need for you. Please."

Stephen moaned loudly entering you with a single hard and deep thrust and you wrapped your legs around his hips, your nails immediately biting into the skin of his back. It didn't matter that you had three Stephens, it was as if your body never got used to the intensity of pleasure they gave you and Defender loved that. He love how desperate you always were for him.

Desperately, he sought your lips and kissed you with the same voracity with which he thrusted against you. He was yours and he loved letting you take control, but that night there was something in him that sought dominance, he needed to take you, mark you, exert his power over you in a way that would satisfy that urge for possession and that's what he did. Thrust after thrust, barely letting you breathe between the heated and hungry kisses while his hands sought your body, be it your breasts, your thighs, it didn't matter, he just needed to grope and squeeze every inch of your body.

You didn't seem to mind his sudden change in behavior, in fact he knew that you liked it, that you felt as much pleasure in being dominated as you felt in dominating. For that reason it didn't take long for him to feel your walls fluttering around him. You were close.

"Oh baby, I love it when you squeeze me like that, but it makes it hard for me to hold back. I don't want to cum yet."

You moaned, searching for his lips and kissing him softly, giving a light bite to his lower lip. "I can't help it. Cock feels so good."

He smiled, but against his will he pulled out slowly to which you protested with a whimper.

"Turn around. Get on your hands and knees for me." He asked and that was exactly what you did, hoping he would penetrate you again, but Stephen had other plans. He was dangerously close to the limit and wanted to make it last so instead of giving you his cock, he used three fingers, slowly penetrating you with them and increasing the pace as your hips moved against his hand and your moans got louder.

"Oh shit, Stephen, feels so good. Oh god, don't stop!" You begged and he smirked in satisfaction despite the familiar discomfort in the nerves of his hand. He was determined to ignore the pain caused by the incurable injury to his hands if the reward was to see you completely lose yourself in your pleasure like that while you moved against his fingers and moaned pornographically.

Defender had never liked porn exactly for the exaggerated moans, but when you moaned for him like that it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard in the world because he knew you weren’t pretending.

"Fuck baby... gonna make me cum. I can't..." You whined but he continued his assault on your hole, finger fucking you with deliberate desperation and gave your ass a light squeeze.

"Don't hold back, baby. You know what I want. Give it to me." He teased and your legs trembled as your walls contracted around his fingers again. You liked it when he talked to you like that and so he kept coaxing you to reach your climax.

"Come on baby, let go for me. You're going to wet the bed for me, aren't you? You know I want it, I've been thinking about it all this time. Be a good mommy and squirt for me."

And so you did it. You moaned even louder this time and your legs shook with the intensity of your orgasm as hot liquid squirted from your pussy wetting the bed and coating his hand beautifully.

"There you go. So beautiful, baby." He praised removing his fingers from inside you and taking them to his mouth, sucking on them until he tasted all of that wonderful nectar. "And you still ask why we like it so much."

You just moaned softly, letting your legs give way and lying face down on the mattress. But he still wasn't satisfied with you and without warning he entered you again going deep and staying there, feeling you contract around him, squeezing him and enveloping him in your wonderful warmth.

"I never get tired of being inside you, baby. You're so warm and so wet. Feels so good, oh shit." He moaned while fucking you with slow and sensual thrusts now.

You moaned against the mattress, "Steph... please. It's too much."

"No baby don't say you're tired already. I still need you." He begged grabbing the headboard with one hand and continued thrusting slowly but maintaining the same intensity, seeking his release with an almost primitive determination. He could feel his balls tightening, the familiar heat rising up his hips and accumulating in the pit of his stomach. He was close. All he needed was a little push.

"Talk to me. Make me cum." He found himself begging as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the delicious scent of your hair as he fought for air, breathing heavily.

You moaned softly, face pressed against the mattress. "F-fuck baby, you fuck me so good. Tell me you're gonna cum inside me. Gonna make me yours."

Defender closed his eyes and focused on your voice as his thrusts became more erratic. He was so close now.

"I know you missed me, baby. All these days working and knowing the other Stephens were fucking me at home, but now you're here. Mark me as yours, fill me with your cum and leave me dripping, smelling like you so they know."

Defender came. An almost guttural groan escaped his lips as he forced himself against you and filled you with his seed. He had so much to give you that he was sure if you weren't already pregnant, he would have knocked you up. And the idea was delicious.

"S-shit... take it baby. Oh, so fucking good. My baby feels so fucking good." He rasped.

You were surprised by Defender's dominant behavior, but you couldn't deny that you had loved every second of it. Apparently, the pregnancy was doing things with all of you. It took him a minute to pull out and roll over on the bed and when he did you immediately snuggled into his arms. His cheeks were slightly pink probably from realizing everything he had said and done that night.

"Are you okay?" He asked stroking your arm slowly up and down. "I was a little rough, wasn't I?"

You nodded "I'm fine. I like it."

The corner of his lips curved into a smile. "You did this to me. The pregnancy made me..."

"I know." You said cupping his cheek. Your faces so close that you could feel his warm breath on your cheeks. "That's what it does to us. It must be the hormones, I don't know, but I'm enjoying it as much as you guys are."

He cocked his head up to kiss you and you felt yourself melting in his arms. His gentle and caring way showing again.

"Let's just enjoy the ride. We still have six months of this." You said finally.

He hummed contentedly, "Let's hope they pass really slowly. I'm definitely not in a rush."

“Neither do I.”

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 1 day ago

Text

Silent Nights, Warm Hearts

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: Fluff

Authors Note: I hope you enjoy! He’s such a pretty princess

Word Count: 1k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The snow outside drifted lazily from the darkened sky, blanketing the brownstones of Brooklyn in a thick, pristine layer of white. Each flake sparkled like glitter under the soft glow of the streetlights, and the muffled quiet of the city lent the night a kind of magic you could only find during Christmas.

Inside your cozy apartment, a different kind of warmth filled the air. The fireplace crackled in the corner, flames dancing over the wood and casting a golden glow across the room. The faint scent of pine and cinnamon lingered, mingling with the rich, buttery aroma of cookies baking in the oven. A half-decorated Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, its branches weighed down with glimmering ornaments and garlands of red and gold.

You sat cross-legged on the plush rug, surrounded by a tangle of colorful Christmas lights that refused to cooperate. Each tug only seemed to make the knot worse, and you sighed in frustration, leaning back on your palms. “This has to be some kind of cruel holiday magic,” you grumbled, glaring at the offending lights as though they might untangle themselves out of guilt.

Leaning against the doorway, Bucky Barnes watched you with a crooked smile. He looked so at ease in the soft glow of the room, a stark contrast to the sharp, battle-worn image most people associated with him. His hair, longer now, fell just below his ears in soft waves, and he was dressed in simple clothes: a dark Henley that clung to his broad shoulders and faded jeans that had seen better days. He wasn’t wearing his gloves tonight, and the metal of his vibranium arm caught the firelight, shimmering like liquid silver.

“You need some help, doll?” he asked, his voice low and warm, carrying that subtle rasp that made your heart flutter every time.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, feigning annoyance. “You’ve been standing there for five minutes just watching me struggle. And now you offer help?”

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest as he pushed off the doorway and walked toward you, his steps slow and deliberate. “I was enjoying the show. You get this little crease in your brow when you’re mad, and it’s cute.”

“Flattery’s not going to save you,” you retorted, though you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Bucky crouched down beside you, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “Let me see this mess,” he murmured, gently taking the string of lights from your hands. His fingers—one warm, one cool—moved deftly, untangling the knots with a precision that made it look effortless.

“You’re annoyingly good at this,” you said, watching him work.

He glanced up at you with a playful smirk. “One of the few perks of being a super soldier. Untangling Christmas lights with extreme efficiency.”

You laughed, the sound soft and melodic, and it filled the space between you like a balm. Moments like this with Bucky were precious—quiet and ordinary in a way that felt extraordinary, given everything he’d been through.

“Here,” he said, handing the now-perfectly untangled strand back to you. “Knots gone, just like that.”

“Show-off,” you teased, rising to your feet and beginning to drape the lights over the tree.

Bucky stood as well, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as he watched you work. There was something about the way you moved—focused, purposeful, yet graceful—that he found endlessly captivating. The twinkle lights reflected in your eyes, and your smile lit up the room even brighter than the star you’d eventually place on top of the tree.

“You’re staring,” you said without turning around, sensing his gaze.

“Can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “You make all this—everything—feel like home.”

You paused, your hand resting lightly on one of the branches, and turned to face him. The look in his eyes was so raw, so open, it took your breath away. “You *are* home, Bucky,” you said quietly. “You don’t need to keep looking for it. It’s right here.”

His lips quirked into a small smile, and he stepped forward, cupping your face gently in his metal hand. The coolness of the vibranium didn’t bother you; it was Bucky, all of him, and you loved every part.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“You just have to let yourself be happy,” you replied, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him softly.

The timer in the kitchen beeped, jolting you both back to the present. You pulled away with a grin, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the kitchen. “Cookies are ready!”

The two of you spent the next hour decorating sugar cookies with ridiculous amounts of frosting and sprinkles. You laughed until your sides ached as Bucky attempted to pipe a snowflake that ended up looking more like a starfish.

By the time the evening wound down, you were both curled up on the couch, a thick, knitted blanket draped over your laps. Bucky’s arm was around your shoulders, and your head rested against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The fire crackled softly, and the twinkle lights on the tree bathed the room in a soft, golden glow.

“This is perfect,” you whispered, your voice heavy with contentment.

Bucky pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there. “It is. Because of you, doll.”

You smiled, your fingers curling around his. “Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

His voice was a low murmur, filled with more love than he could ever put into words. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

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day1dream · 17 hours ago

Text

Peter’s eyes widened when she changed into one of his shirts. The boy was still trying to come down from the earlier events and seeing her in his shirt was doing things to him.

Peter’s eyes were glued to her, taking in the perfect sight in front of him.

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #may parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #peter parker spiderman #spiderman smut #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel comics #marvel mcu #avengers #mcu

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vinamari · 5 months ago

Text

How it feels going to bed after reading some words

It was angst

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sceletaflores · 2 months ago

Text

slippin' and slidin' all over you!

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, sweating, mutual masturbation, sweat licking (i don't know???), not-so-dry humping, p in v, JUST THE TIP RAHHH, creampie, fingering (fem!recieving), oral sex (fem!receiving), come swapping, come eating, literally over four thousand words of pure nasty smut, this is gross lowkey, idk i'm h*rny, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: very much not the winner or even an option of the poll i posted last week but...shhh don't hate me. it’s october and over 80 every single day, what the fuck is that? only good thing that came from this heat is thoughts of nasty sweaty sex with logan. once again shoutout to my wonderful husband @ebodebo for reading this over for me (i successfully changed her vendetta against sucking up some man sweat...which was the real point of this fic tbh) go give her fics some love if you're a slut for ghost! kisses!

logan forgot to fix the ac...

It's too hot out to be alive. 36°C and sunny.

One of the hottest days in recent memory for Alberta, and you're really feeling it.

"Remind me," you say slowly, the first words spoken in almost ten minutes. "How many times did I ask you to fix the air conditioner?"

"Don't start," Logan says from his spot across the room. His head is tipped back to rest on the couch cushion, eyes slipped shut.

You ignore him, lazily rolling your head to the side to look at him through squinted eyes, your brows furrowed in thought. "Was it ten? Or maybe thirteen?"

Logan huffs a breath, slow and heavy, but he doesn't move--doesn't even open his eyes. “I said don’t start,” he mutters again, though there’s the faintest edge of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't worry baby," you say, voice pitched lower in a terrible impersonation of Logan. "I'll get to it, promise. Won’t get too hot for another couple months."

Logan finally cracks an eye open, just enough to give you a sideways glance, his mouth twitching with amusement. "You done?"

You hum noncommittally, the sound lingering in the air like the lazy summer breeze doing nothing to cool the temperature outside. Your gaze slips down the side of his face to trace the jut of his jaw, then lower to the sweaty column of his neck.

Both you and Logan lost most of your clothes earlier in the day, too hot to bother wearing anything but underwear. You trudged around the house like zombies until you finally gave up on trying to be productive, you both ended up in the living room.

All the windows are cracked open, trying in vain to let in any cool air. You claimed the armchair closest to the fan, refusing to be anywhere near Logan and the massive heat wave he constantly gives off.

Logan’s on the couch, stripped down to the thinnest pair of sleep shorts you’ve ever seen. His chest is bare, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that mats the dark hair dusted along his pecs to his skin.

You can’t help the way your eyes follow the drops of moisture that slide slowly down the contours of his abs. A low heat starting to swirl through your gut when it disappears into his happy trail.

It's funny. When you basically peeled yourself off your mattress this morning, sex was the absolute last thing on your mind.

Now, as your eyes glide over the strong expanse of Logan's body on full display, you're having second thoughts.

Maybe it just comes with the heat. That sort of slow, syrupy feeling that slides along your overheated skin to pulse pleasantly between your thighs.

A bead of sweat slides down the length of your spine slowly, falling until it soaks into the damp waistband of your panties. You try to not notice how Logan is halfway across the room, not touching you.

You fail.

“It’s just a shame, though,” you start, fingers idly toying with the hem of your tank top. “If it was cooler, I could come over there.”

You slide a leg up, letting it rest against the wooden rest, newly exposed skin gleaming under the sunlight filtering in.

The move isn't lost on Logan. You see his jaw clench slightly, the tiniest shift in his posture.

"Something you wanted?" Logan asks, his voice going low and teasing. "Looks like you've been gettin' yourself all worked up over there."

“Just thinking,” you reply, shifting slightly on the sticky leather of the chair.

Logan’s fingers twitch at his sides, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. His eyes slide the rest of the way open, his gaze heavy and lingering as it ventures down to where your thin shirt sticks to your skin, outlining every curve.

“Oh yeah?” he prompts, his voice a little rougher now. “Thinkin’ about what, baby?”

“You,” you say easily, fingers slipping down to your thigh. You bring your other leg up, perching it against the opposite armrest. Your thighs spread wide enough that you know Logan has a full view of the wet spot growing along the gusset of your panties.

The hitch in Logan’s breath has you stifling a smug smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch the way his chest starts rising faster.

"That's real sweet, sugar," he drawls, an unimpressed look on his face as he drags his eyes back up to your own. "But if you're tryin' to get me over there, you're gonna have to do better than that." His voice slides through the air heavy and warm like molasses.

You bite back a grin, enjoying the slow game that's unfolding between the two of you.

"Maybe I don’t want you to come over here," you let your fingers trail a little lower, just to the edge of your panties, teasing. “Maybe I like you right where you are.”

Logan’s brow raises, his thighs tensing before he spreads them just a touch wider. The fabric of his boxers goes taut over the strong muscle, riding up to expose even more hairy skin to your greedy eyes.

"You're playin' with fire, kid," he warns.

The tent in his shorts is obvious now, the hard length of his cock pressing against the fabric where it lays across his thigh. Your other hand twitches by your side at just the sight, your pussy throbbing with the sudden need to be filled.

"Am I?" you murmur, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, just enough to make sure he knows exactly where this is headed. ”It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it, you’re too busy pouting."

With a deliberate slowness, you slide your fingers lower, brushing against your clit with just enough pressure to let out a soft gasp at the contact. You arch your back slightly, relishing in the way the air feels against your skin, hot and sticky.

You want him to see how badly you need him—how his heat is the only thing that could truly satisfy the insatiable ache building between your legs.

Logan's nostrils flare, jaw tightening and eyes darkening at the sight of you teasing yourself. His restraint is slipping, and you can practically feel the tension building in the room, thick and stifling like the oppressive summer heat.

But he still doesn’t move, doesn’t rush over like you expect him to. Instead, he shifts his hips slightly, spreading his legs wider and letting his hand fall on his thigh.

You can’t help the way your breath quickens at the sight, the way his fingers drift dangerously close to his own growing bulge, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him.

You tilt your head to the side, gazing at him through your lashes. “You're really just gonna leave me hanging?” you goad, fingers circling lazily around your sensitive clit. “Come on stud, whip it out.”

Logan chuckles low, a sound that sends shivers through you. "Is that what you want, baby?" he asks, voice thick and taunting, a smirk curling on his lips. “You want me to whip it out for you?”

“Yeah,” you murmur breathlessly, biting your lip as you maintain eye contact, your breath starting to come in short bursts. “I need to see you, Logan. Need to see how hard you are for me.”

“Need to, huh,” he muses slowly, fingers finally grazing over the hard length of his cock. “What’s in it for me?”

“How about this?” You slip your hand out from your ruined panties, fingers glistening with your own wetness as you hook your thumbs on either side and drag them down your legs.

You let the soaked cotton fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Logan’s pupils dilate, an inky black completely swallowing the warm hazel. He licks his lips slowly, the tip of his tongue running along his teeth like he wants to sink them into you. His cock twitches visibly beneath his shorts, the growing tension in the air between you thick enough to choke on.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his voice low and gravelly, more of a growl than a word.

You smile, shifting in the chair to give him an even better view, your legs spreading wider. "Yeah?" you purr, running your fingers over your slick inner thigh, feeling the heat radiating from your own skin. “You like what you see?”

Logan swallows hard, his hand finally slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, palming his cock as he watches you. “You know I do,” he says, voice rougher than before.

You let your hand trail back down to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as you hold his gaze. “Then show me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea now. "I wanna see you."

Logan lets out a low, rumbling groan, his fingers making quick work of shoving his shorts down enough to free his cock. It springs free to slap lewdly against his stomach and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips at the sight.

He strokes himself slowly to start, his eyes locked on you, watching your every reaction, feeding off the way your chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.

"Like this?" he asks, his tone taunting as he strokes himself from base to tip, his thumb swiping over the head with a low hiss. “That what you wanted?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, straining and in his hand. The sight of his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock sends a hot, electric pulse through your body, your hand between your legs moving in time with his slow strokes.

"Yeah," you whisper, voice trembling with need. "Just like that."

You slip your hand lower, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a low moan. Logan groans like he’s the one being touched, his hand speeds up, eyes glued to where your fingers disappear in your slick heat.

His cock leaks pre-come over his knuckles each time his fist passes over the dripping head, the wet sound of it mixing with the low hum of the fan and your own breathy sighs.

"You look so fuckin' good like this honey," Logan groans, his voice rough, strained. "All spread out, playing with that pretty pussy for me."

You whimper at his words, your body aching for more than just your own touch. You need him, need the feel of his rough hands on your skin, his mouth, his cock—anything.

Your fingers move faster, slipping deeper inside with each pump, but it’s still not enough. The stretch is nothing compared to taking Logan, to the feeling of him carving a place for his thick cock inside your pussy, hitting that spot inside you that your fingers can’t quite reach.

Your hips buck up towards your hand, your back arching off the chair as your free hand clutches the armrest tightly.

Logan’s pace quickens, his fist pumping his cock with a new urgency, heavy balls bouncing with every rough tug.

“God, look at you, such a needy fuckin’ thing” he growls, chest heaving as his gaze flicks between your flushed face and the glistening mess you’re making of yourself like he can’t decide where to look. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

"Please," you whine, desperation creeping into your voice. Too keyed up to draw this out any longer. “I need you inside me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore.”

Logan groans, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. His hand falters slightly on his cock, squeezing hard around the base as your words push him dangerously close to the edge. His jaw clenches, eyes raking over you, and with a growl, he stands.

The last threads of his restraint snapping.

He crosses the room in two long strides, towering over you where you sit. His cock swollen and hard, sways between his legs with every step, glistening with pre-come that drips to the floor. His eyes, hooded and burning, drink you in as he reaches down, yanking your hand away from your slick heat.

“Thought you said it was too hot to move,” you tease breathlessly, unable to quit egging him on even when your legs start to tremble with need, spreading wider to welcome him.

Logan ignores you, tugging your hand to his lips. Your breath catches in your chest, a weak moan escaping you as he takes your soaked fingers in his mouth. His tongue swirling along your skin to taste you, his eyes never leaving yours as he does.

“Changed my mind,” he growls, strong hands rough and possessive as they drop your wrist and haul you out of the chair so he can spin around, collapsing into it with you in his lap. The wood gives a warning creak beneath you but neither of you care.

Not when his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding as he slides his tongue past the seam of your lips. The heat radiating off his body is suffocating, but you welcome it—craving the weight of him on you.

You melt against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours, every inch of him alive and pulsating with need. Logan’s hands find their way to your hips, fingers digging in just enough to send a rush coursing through you.

It’s intoxicating, the way he devours you, his hands exploring every inch of your back, grasping and pulling you impossibly closer.

The hard jut of his cock presses against your thigh, a thick plane of heat that makes your pussy throb with need. You shift your hips, grinding down on him in messy circles.

“You feel that?” he growls, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s all for you, darlin’.”

“Need you,” you whimper, grinding down against him faster, desperate for the friction that sends pleasure rippling through you. “Please, Logan, I need you inside me now.”

“Hold on, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending sparks all up your spine.

He dips his head, capturing your lips again, while his hands roam hungrily down your sides, fingers curling around your thighs to urge your legs open wider. “You wanna tease me, you’re gonna have to get off just like this.”

Logan angles his hips so that his cock slips between your drenched folds the next time you roll your own down.

The hot, slick glide sends electric shocks of pleasure racing through you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You gasp against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as you push down, desperate for more.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, his voice dripping with lust as he watches your movements with hungry eyes. “Just for me, huh? She’s droolin’ just for me.”

You nod breathlessly, chasing the friction, craving the feel of him so close. You lift your hips and rock back down again, the blunt head of his cock brushing against your swollen clit, and you feel your body pulse in response.

“More,” you plead, leaning in to nibble at his lower lip. “I need it.”

Logan pulls away, shaking his head with a wicked grin. “Come on, tough shot,” he says, giving your ass a quick smack and kneading the tender flesh in his hand roughly. “You’re gonna come like this, you can do it baby.”

You whine, dropping your chin to your chest. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into the strong muscle. Your chest slips slickly against his, the front of your tank almost entirely soaked with sweat.

Yours or his, it doesn't matter. The white cotton turned transparent enough that your breasts are on full display, nipples hard and visible.

You watch a single bead of sweat make its way down the length of his throat. It trickles down and down and down until it dips between the pronounced muscles of his chest.

You duck your head, dragging your tongue up the valley of his pecs. A deep moan bursts from your lips, pussy drooling more slick over Logan’s cock at the coarse feel of his thick hair on your tongue, at the heady taste of his sweat filling your senses.

Logan groans, hands tightening their hold on your waist. The dull ache his strength leaves behind is enough to let you know that two hand shaped bruises will be blooming over your skin by tomorrow morning.

“Come on, girly,” he encourages, nipping at the sweaty column of your throat, the sharp points of his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin deliciously. “Fuck me, give it to me good.”

Your hips speed up, his hard cock sliding through the slick folds of your cunt faster. The tip bumps against your clit deliciously with every move, smearing pre-come along the way to add even more to the mess between your legs.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he groans, breath puffing warm and hot agasint the slick skin of your lips. “Pump you so full of my come you’ll be leakin’ for a goddamn week.”

He shifts underneath you, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance just enough for it to push inside on the next grind of your hips.

The barely there fullness has you coming with a sharp cry, nails roughly dragging down Logan’s back hard enough to leave red welts that heal as you go.

The pain mixing with the pleasure of finally getting to feel the warm, wet suction of your pussy has Logan coming with a rough shout of your name. He throws his head back, hands tightening their grip on your hips enough to have your bones grinding together as he pumps you full of his come.

“Logan…” you mewl, your pussy fluttering over the tip of his cock, greedy little clenches like you're trying to suck him the rest of the way in. Drunk on the way his release paints your insides, how you can feel each thick spray coating your walls to claim you in the rawest way.

Logan pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and smoldering as he watches you squirm in his lap.

"You’re not tapping out on me already, are you?" he teases, his voice rough and gravelly. "I thought you were tougher than that."

A weak, breathy laugh escapes you, but it’s cut short when he applies just a little more pressure, making your thighs quiver. "Not tapping out," you manage between shallow breaths, your head falling back against the chair. "But you’re—fuck—you’re insatiable."

Logan smirks, leaning in to nip at the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth scraping just enough to send shivers coursing through you.

"When it comes to you, baby?" he murmurs against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over your pulse point. "Fuckin’ always."

A lazily smile takes over your lips as you tighten your core and push, the rest of Logan’s come leaking out over his fingers. Logan groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder to try and ground himself.

His cock throbs where it sways heavily between his thighs, still hard and ready to go even after he just came. His hand slips down your body, thick fingers running through the creamy mess of come and slick to messily push it back inside you.

“Fuckin’ shit, honey,” he groans lowly, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Before you can respond, he stands again, gently placing your trembling form back into the chair and dropping to his knees in front of you.

Your breath hitches, legs widening despite the way your pussy shakes with overstimulation, like you can’t help but spread your legs for Logan anytime he wants.

Logan smirks up at you from between your legs, his lips already ghosting over the inside of your thigh. "Look at you," he growls, voice low and filled with lust. "Still so needy."

The slick heat of his tongue runs along your folds, lapping at the mess he just made of you. You let out a sharp gasp, thighs trembling as your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him closer.

The sensation is overwhelming—the rough, demanding pace of his tongue as it swirls around your clit, teasing you, while his hands grip your thighs with bruising force. Keeping you exactly where he wants you, keeping you spread open for his tongue.

Your body arches off the chair with a loud cry, every nerve alight with raw pleasure as he feasts on you, his growls vibrating against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck! Logan," you moan breathlessly, head falling back as you try to keep up with the sensations he's pulling from you.

The heat that was pooling low in your belly reignites, stoked by the way his tongue flicks faster against your clit, each stroke sending you higher.

Logan doesn’t let up, his tongue delving deeper, drinking in every moan, every shaky gasp as he drives you closer to the edge. He moans into your pussy, his own arousal clear in the way his hips buck into the air, seeking any kind of friction.

You tug on his hair harder, desperate for more, for release. "Logan, please," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with need.

"Atta’ girl," he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "So fuckin’ pretty like this. You gonna give me another one, baby? Gonna come for me again?"

Every lick, every rough squeeze to your thighs, every teasing stroke sends you spiraling closer to that edge you’re dying to reach again. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hot against your soaked skin and driving you wild.

“Logan, I—” You gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer, closer, closer. “I’m so close—”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, nose and jaw glistening in your juices.

"Give it to me," he growls, the rough rasp of his voice sending a shiver through your overheated body. "I wanna feel you come on my tongue."

It’s all the encouragement you need. With a strangled cry, your body tenses, thighs quaking as the orgasm crashes over you.

Logan keeps his mouth on you, tongue working you through every pulse, drawing it out until you’re trembling and gasping, your body boneless in the chair.

When you finally come down, panting and spent, Logan pulls away. With one last kiss pressed over your clit, he makes his way up your body, not dropping eye contact as he settles over you.

His hand comes up to your face, thumbs meanly hooking into either side of your cheeks to gently force your mouth open. You part your lips willingly, the heat still radiating between you, a mix of lingering pleasure.

Logan leans in, and the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex surrounds you as he spits what he collected from between your legs back into your own mouth.

Your cheeks burn with shame, a broken moan ringing through the space between you. Your glassy eyes stare into Logan’s, his own gaze so intense and all consuming you fight the urge to squirm.

"Swallow," he commands, unwavering.

You hesitate for just a moment, caught off guard by the pure audacity, but the way his eyes darken with hunger makes your resolve crumble. With a breathless whimper, you obey, tasting the remnants of your own pleasure mingling with his, the act both humiliating and intensely arousing.

Logan watches you closely, his gaze never straying as you swallow, a dirty smirk creeping onto his lips. “That's my girl,” he praises, his tone thick with satisfaction.

As the taste lingers on your tongue, you can feel the weight of Logan’s stare like a physical touch.

“Think you can handle another round?” he teases, his voice low and sultry. “I don’t plan on letting you off that easy, kid. Not with all that mouthing off earlier.”

You catch your breath, shaking your head in exasperation. “You’re relentless,” you whisper, a hint of laughter in your voice, though your body betrays you, already craving more.

“Only for you, baby” he replies, brushing the strands of hair plastered to your sweaty forehead behind your ear. “Only for you.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: i started my period today chickens...that explains it...

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gay-dorito-dust · 5 months ago

Note

Imagine going on adventures with Logan and Deadpool and you’re the voice of reason behind them 😆 Deapool the idiot with hot headed Wolverine that reader has to keep in check all the time

It’s not easy being the only person with common sense in this rag tag trio of yours.

^^ this is literally you babysitting two grown ass men that need to be kept on leashes and separated from one another in case they fight, again.

You are overworked and underpaid to be dealing with this shit, but there was no one else who had the patience for Wade nor the compassion and empathy for Logan as you did.

So unfortunately you were stuck with them for every mission given but despite how vastly different and incompatible some of you were -*cough* Logan and Wade *cough*- you three worked well enough together that you were a force to be reckoned with.

You were forced to face situations where wade would be pissing Logan off to the point his claws were out, and you had to pat the rugged man on his shoulder, wait for him to look at you as you pointed towards his claws;

‘Them. Away. Now.’ -you.

Wolverine: *grunts*

You: don’t give me attitude, put. them. away. Now.

Wade: ohhh Logan’s in trouble!

You would then look at Wade before pointing at him like a disappointed parent: and you, stop pissing him off if you like to keep your dick where it is! Or so help god me I’ll cut it off myself!

Wade: 😶

Wolverine: *smirks and puts the claws away*

You were their voice of reason, their angel on their shoulder, their peace keeper and confidant and they respect you for keeping up with their shit. However it wouldn’t be much like Logan and Wade to make your life easy as you often had to stand between the two as a barrier of sorts to keep them from killing each other.

When in actuality they are flipping each other off behind your back and it wasn’t until Logan slapped wades hand away, causing him to say ‘ow’ did you look between the two of them as they acted like they weren’t acting like children a few moments ago.

You: I’m so sorry you’ll have to excuse them.

*Meanwhile Wade and Logan fighting, stabbing each other in the balls in the background*

You: WOULD YOU TWO STOP FUCKING FIGHTING FOR FIVE MINUTES!!!

Wade and Logan; *immediately stop and point at each other* he started it!

They were the reason you had grey hairs at an early age you swore this to anyone who’d listen. They were a pain in your ass, thorn in your side and a headache waiting to happen but the moment you were threatened, Wade and Logan put aside their differences and acted accordingly by standing protectively in front of you.

Logan: I would shut the fuck up if I were you bub.

Wade: oh look what you did, you made daddy angry.

Logan and you looking at Wade: 🤨😐

You: can you not make everything into a sex joke?

Wade, booping you on the nose; it comes with the territory peanut.

Logan: be serious for fucking once, they’ve just got threatened!

Wade: you don’t think I want our pookie to get hurt? (why do I think he’d say pookie unironically)

You: kill me now and end my misery. Please someone, anyone. Preferably pyro. (He’s hot, literally and figuratively)

Being stuck with Logan and wolverine is a curse and a blessing at the same time, which one you want to focus on more is up to you. However you three were incredibly loyal to each other, even if you do piss each other off from time to time, but you’d never betray one another for it wasn’t an option.

You were stuck with these two whether you liked it or not.

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prettycoolgirl · 2 months ago

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juno

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader.

summary: logan can't resist the urge to breed you

a/n: one small prompt just for now, thought about this while listening to juno by sabrina carpenter literally so so good but also(i need to have this man's kids). feel free to send me concepts! & requests are open. also please lemme know if i made any errors i hateee proofreading enjoy <33

warnings: 18+, smut, age gap once again (reader is in her 20s). just pure breeding kink. p in v. teeny bit daddy kink? definitely more warnings…

word count: 444

logan knew he shouldn't be imagining you with your belly rounding with his child, and breasts growing heavy with milk, especially at a family event. it felt so wrong.

that was how you and logan ended up leaving the party so early. he'd been eyeing you the whole night as you tended to your newborn nephew with such affection. it had sent him straight to the edge. he'd decided to make it his mission tonight to pump you full of his seed.

as soon as you both were through the door, he pinned you against it, pressing his soft pink lips against yours. whilst his hands started to roam your body.

"you know how fucking hard you made me seeing you play momma"

"yeah and why's that" you smiled and leaned in for more kisses. he began to lift you up and wrap your legs around his waist. carrying you to the bedroom, tossing you down on the bed. "makes me wanna get you pregnant, and i shouldn't be wanting that, you're young and have so much ahead of you, but fuck i can't help but want to have you all swollen walking around with my kid." he unbuckled his belt, eyes locked onto yours with his hard length out.

"don't hold back lo just because i’m young, i’m old enough to know what i want. lemme make you a daddy"

"yeah? you want me to make you a momma? have you stuffed with my seed all fucking year long."

"please, daddy i want a baby," you whispered, "please, i wanna have your babies." your words trailed off as he settled between your thighs, the thick head of his erection pushing against your entrance.

logan’s pace had quickened, going in and out of you, with his balls slapping your clit. "fuck you feel so good, angel. you’re so fucking warm&tight. yeah, that’s it squeeze me like that. not leaving you till you're pregnant with my baby.” he rasped.

“lo-logan. please come inside of me. i need it soo bad. fu-fuck daddy give me your cum-“

logan was pounding into you, reaching between you two, rubbing your folds. "that’s it, baby. pussy was practically made for me. c'mon angel squeeze around my cock while i knock you up." his words pushed you over the edge, as you came hard.

the final thrust, logan buried himself deep inside of you groaning. leaving his hot&warm seed inside of you, that painted your womb. he ended up collapsing on top of you gently, both of you trying to come down from your high. when he finally spoke, "better do a round two, just to make sure i did a good job."

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

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Bucky can’t lie

A smutty thot. Imagine the avengers fucking around with a lie detector test, testing how well the super soldiers were trained. Steve failed instantly while stating his own name, blushing from embarrassment. Bucky was shoved into the chair next.

And he was disgustingly good.

The wires were attached to him within seconds, with questions flying left right and center. He crossed his arms over his chest with an eyeroll, answering the most ridiculous questions each person would throw at him.

"What the hell Barnes, there's no way, you can't be serious"

The super soldier smirked, while the others watched the needle scratch on the paper steadily, not a single signal indicating he was lying. It was going great until Tony's eyes lit up with a brilliant idea.

“Wait. Get y/n in here”

You sauntered into the room, scrunching your face seeing Bucky hooked up to the machine, while the rest of the team stared at him intently. The faintest uptick scratched onto the paper making Steve cock an eyebrow while Bucky's expression remained the same.

"What am I doing here and why's Bucky-

"Shh, just stand there. We're trying to see if we can get Bucky to fail a lie detector test. Alright, new question. Is there anyone in this room you've thought about naked" Tony asked while all eyes stared at Bucky, the soldier biting his lip.

"No"

"Hm" Tony nodded, continuing. "Is there anyone in this room you've thought about having sex with"

"What kind of questions are you asking, pervert" Bucky exhaled through his nose, his finger tapping against the seat.

"Just answer the question Barnes" Tony smiled sweetly, grinning when the needle already started to move a little higher than before.

"No"

The needle ticked higher making Bucky huff, ignoring the way his face heated up when you stepped closer to peer at the paper.

"Interesting. Slight deception detected there Barnes, you sure about that?"

"Yes" Bucky forced through gritted teeth, managing to keep the needle from jumping around too much.

"Here, let me" You smirked, pulling Tony away from the seat, gazing into the soldiers eyes while he threw you a cocky smirk.

"Think you can do better doll?" He sassed while you shrugged, the scent of your perfume already making hi sweat.

"Have you ever thought of kissing me?" The needle jolted before Bucky could even open his mouth, making the others screech while Bucky shook his head. "Liar"

"You ever thought about me naked? You like watching me out on the field?"

"No" Bucky's pulse raced, his pants starting to feel too tight, the test scribbling wildly.

"Okay this mf lying" Sam snorted while Bucky's flushed cheeks grew hotter.

"Really? You ever think about me on my knees for you? Sucking your cock?"

"No" The needle nearly jolted off the sheet, making Tony cackle, clapping his hands madly while Steve blushed and chuckled, torn between watching his best friend's walls crumble and running out of the room with your questions getting filthier and filthier.

"You think about cumming down my throat? having me swallow all of you, telling you how good you taste?"

"No"

"You think about having me naked on your bed, soldier? Moaning for you? Screaming your name?"

"You think about stuffing me with your babies Jamie? Getting me pregnant with that serum running through your veins?"

"You want me to call you daddy baby? How about Sergeant"

"Do you want me to be your slutty baby, drip all over your cock"

"N-No" Bucky gritted out again while Sam threw his hands up.

"You're not fooling anyone dumbass, I think you broke the needle" The machine nearly gave way with a high pitched whizz matching Bucky's racing heartrate. You grinned, getting up from your seat, making him pant.

"Do I make you horny baby" You slinked onto his lap, making Bucky finally break his resolve, his hands flying to your waist.

"Fuck yes. C'mere" He hissed, ripping the wires off and tossing you over his shoulder with a spank while Tony peered over at the paper with a satisfied smirk.

"No lies detected"

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antiquarianfics · 1 year ago

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You Have a Girlfriend?

So you get a little confused when you’re drunk? So what?

a/n: I saw a goofy little twitter post about this somewhere and ran with it. I’m goofy when I’m drunk, so, honestly? A very plausible scenario.

warnings: Mild language, alcohol consumption.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy, repost, or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

—

You’re sitting next to Bucky and across from Sam, and you are a little very drunk. The three of you chose to have a drink and talk after a long day of working on the Wilsons’ boat. The issue, however, is that Sam challenged Bucky and yourself to a drinking game, and you were desperately losing.

One thing about you is that when you’re drunk: you feel the need to tell everyone how much you love them. Another thing about you when you’re drunk: your memory sucks.

“Sam,” you whisper yell across the bow of the boat. “Sam. Sam. Sam.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at you when he turns his attention to you.

“I have a secret to tell you! No, two secrets!” You hold out two fingers in front of you.

Sam smirks. “What’s that?”

“One,” you hold up one finger, “I love you; you’re a good friend. Two,” you hold up a second finger, “your friend who’s sitting by me is really, really hot.”

Sam lets out a loud laugh, and you grin at his reaction.

“I love you, too, kid.”

Bucky is smiling fondly at you, watching you with love and adoration. He’s glad he can’t get drunk simply for the ability to take care of you while you let loose.

“I’m really, really hot, huh?” Bucky teases, and he laughs when you nearly get whiplash from turning to look at him.

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him. In your drunken state, you clearly didn’t expect him to hear your admission to Sam. You relax after a second, though, and smile at him.

“Yeah, you are. Y’know, I was wonderin’…” you trail off, getting distracted as you stare into his bright blue eyes. You let out a content sigh as you observe him.

“What were ya wonderin’, Doll?” He lets his hand rest on your thigh, rubbing his hand up and down comfortingly.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Your question is dead serious. There’s no hesitancy or joke in your voice, and Bucky finds it completely endearing. He chuckles as he stares at you, and you can faintly hear Sam lose his shit. You don’t pull your attention away from Bucky at all, though.

“I do,” Bucky informs you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at your reaction.

Your eyes go wide, tears prickle at the corner of them. You swallow and wipe them away before doing your best to come up with a steady voice.

“Is it serious?” You question him.

“Very,” he smiles. “‘m gonna ask her to marry me.”

Generally speaking, Bucky wouldn’t have told you his plans, but he is fairly certain you’re not going to remember this conversation in the morning. And, if you do, he isn’t too concerned because he is so very serious.

You make no effort to hide your disappointment, and you let your tears fall freely this time.

“Oh, okay. She’s so lucky. Does she make you happy?”

“Happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

You’re obviously upset, and you’re obviously unaware Bucky is talking about you. Sam is trying not to laugh, but his wide grin betrays him. Bucky, however, finds himself more concerned than entertained when you start to actually cry.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” He wipes a tear away with his thumb, softly holding your face.

“No!” You push his hand away, eyes going wide. “You have a girlfriend! She wouldn’t want you touchin’ me!”

He laughs then. He can’t help it. After all, his girlfriend would very much want him to touch you. You always have your hand interlaced with his, or your body snugly tucked into his side, or your hand in his hair, or… The list goes on.

“Hey, don’t laugh.” You frown.

“Sorry, sorry. ‘s just that my girlfriend loves when I touch you.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Why would she like for you to touch other women?”

Sam bursts into another round of laughter. He is struggling to breathe as he wordlessly points at the two of you, ignoring Bucky’s glare.

“Oh, Doll, she doesn’t. She hates it, really, and I never pay another dame a lick of attention. She’s the only one I’ve got eyes for.” He kisses your forehead, a form of punctuation to his assurance.

Your critical thinking skills, however, are formally shot.

“You’re lying! You’re paying me attention! And I’m not your girlfriend! What’s your girlfriend’s name? I’ve got to tell her you’re cheating. Girl code.”

Sam loses it again.

“Your girlfriend! You: cheating! Shit!” Sam barely manages to get a thought out. Bucky grins at his friend. He can’t deny that he is just as entertained by your antics.

He pulls out his phone, opening his contacts up to the one labeled “Dollface,” and hands it to you.

“Here,” he says, “call her.”

You nod and take his phone, hitting the call button and holding his cellphone to your ear.

A ringtone fills the night air and you frown when you feel a vibration in your back pocket. Clumsily, you pull your own cellphone out of your pocket and look down at the screen.

“JBB <3 is calling…” appears on your screen along with a candid photo of Bucky laughing.

You stare at it, and Sam and Bucky stare at you. You don’t do anything—don’t say anything, don’t move—until the call goes to voicemail. Finally you look up at Bucky.

“Why’d it call me?”

“Y/N, you’re my girlfriend,” Bucky finally says.

Your face breaks into a wide grin.

“No shit!”

—

“I wasn’t that drunk!” You insist the following morning.

Sam and Bucky exchange a look before laughing.

“Kid,” Sam says once he’s calmed down enough. “You asked Tin-man if he had a girlfriend and cried when he said yes.”

Your eyes go wide as you turn to Bucky for confirmation.

“You did, Doll,” he says, smiling.

You stare for a moment before shrugging and turning back to your coffee in front of you.

“Y’know what? That’s a totally reasonable reaction,” you say, leaning back into Bucky as he situates himself behind you and plants a loving kiss in your hair.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky x fem!reader #tfatws!bucky x reader #tfatws!bucky x fem!reader #tfatws #tfatws!bucky #marvel #marvel fluff #marvel x you #marvel x y/n

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komotionlessqueenmm · 4 months ago

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Incorrect Quote

Gambit - What am I going to do with you? *stares at (Y/n) with heart eyes*

(Y/n) - Love me, feed me, never leave me. *smiles brightly at her boyfriend*

Gambit - It's a deal mon cheri. *mirrors her smile*

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choerypetal · 4 months ago

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Hickeys / Wade, Logan and Remy

summary: small prompts, on how the xmen boys would be when given hickeys.

ps; i apologies if there is a few grammatical errors, as english isn't my first language.

enjoy!

Wade:

That man can’t resist keeping you in his sight and making sure to give you at least a kiss, or some small gesture of affection, before heading off to work.

This means his lips would form an adorable pout as he insists on leaning in. When you give in, his lips curl into a smirk, and before you can protest, you feel his hungry kiss.

Of course, it doesn't end there. His fingers slide around your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you onto his lap. "The boss can wait a little while," he murmurs, his voice rough and laced with a hunger that demands to feel his teeth on your skin. That's how his habit of leaving hickeys began. "Not until I'm done."

"Wadee," you tried to protest, glancing at the clock to remind him not to be late, but his priorities were elsewhere. You knew it when you felt his tongue tracing the crook of your neck, followed by the slow press of his teeth against your skin. He left a few more bruises, as if the ones from yesterday weren’t already enough for him.

"Shh…" he purred, his eyes darkened by lust and the passion in his voice. "I need to finish my little masterpiece." You rolled your eyes, letting out a slight chuckle, but before you knew it, a moan escaped your lips as he nipped harder with his teeth. "That's it, princess, I want to hear you moan," Wade whispered, the desire and need evident in his gaze.

He finally stopped, as always, to admire his work—several new hickeys on your neck. Just the sight of them made him bite his bottom lip. When your eyes met his, he leaned in for a sloppy kiss, leaving you breathless, with pouty lips and fluttering lashes. "Oh, so now the princess wants more? It's a shame I have to go to work. And so do you," he teased. Typical bastard, you thought to yourself.

Logan:

Unlike Wade, Logan isn’t the type to be vocal about what’s his. As the Wolverine, it wasn’t surprising when you ended up covered in hickeys. One time at the X-Men Labs, Logan immediately noticed a coworker checking you out. It wasn’t just the hickeys on your neck but also an outrageous comment that set him off. If those hickeys weren’t enough, you were in for a session where Logan would mark you as his—completely and everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

Naturally, he chose the Lab as the perfect place to do it. Despite his wild nature, Logan is surprisingly traditional, which might catch anyone, including you, off guard. But with his Wolverine instincts, he didn’t hesitate to grip your waist, pulling you up from your chair despite your protests, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist for support. "You really thought I’d let you leave work that early? That’s the kind of question that would make me feel ashamed, love."

Before you could say anything, his lips caught yours in a hungry kiss. His voice was hoarse, thick with the impatience and craving he’d been holding back all day—especially after seeing you with your coworker. When Logan’s jealousy flared, you knew there was no stopping him. “Logan…” you whispered, your soft, vulnerable voice a huge turn-on for him. He purred as he nodded at your call. “Yes, sweetheart?” he murmured, his gaze never leaving you. “I need you, so bad…” Your confession was all he needed. He began by nuzzling his head against your neck, his teeth sinking in without hesitation.

The neck was just the beginning for Logan; he wasn’t satisfied yet. He needed more, which meant leaning you over your Lab desk. Your blouse clung to your curves as his fingers, both gentle and eager, began unbuttoning your jacket. The typical work attire—a short skirt, sheer lace, and a blouse that matched the color of your nail polish—was what truly captivated him. Even his own attire seemed to complement yours. One of the many things he adored about you, he murmured, “Man, you look gorgeous…”

“You don’t look bad yourself either,” you echoed the words you’d whispered when you first met Logan. He adored this gesture, finding it endearing. Just moments before unbuttoning your blouse, he asked, “May I?” with the gentlemanly demeanor he always displayed. You smiled and nodded in response. “Since no one else will be coming to the Lab, my body is yours, Logan.”

That response alone pleased the Wolverine. As his fingers delicately and slowly unbuttoned your blouse, he took a moment to admire your breasts, beautifully outlined by the cup of your bra, before nuzzling his head against your stomach. His teeth sank into your flesh, leaving more hickeys than he had originally intended. “Now, I hope this will stop your coworker from looking…” he murmured.

Remy Lebeau:

Of the two, Remy is undoubtedly the most proud when it comes to showcasing his affection. His love language includes plenty of flirtation, and he makes sure that most of your hickeys are prominently displayed. He’s also quite vocal about it, especially when your best friend, Peter Maximoff, notices the sudden marks on your neck and expresses his concern. “Geez, Y/N, someone was feisty last night. I’m curious who the lucky one is.”

In no time, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, with Remy’s shadow looming over your petite frame and a smug look of pride on his face. “Ma chérie, you look a bit tired today,” he remarked, prompting you to shoot him a death glare. Despite your effort to remain professional, Remy’s public displays of affection made Peter gulp silently. “I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he said. “See you at lunch?”

That question was an offer Remy was inclined to refuse, as he had other plans in mind. Everyone knew it, especially you, which surprised him when you agreed to join. His grip around your waist tightened, and a smile spread across his face. As polite as ever, he said, “It would be a shame if Y/N didn’t join us. But my chère has other plans. Sorry, mon cher Peter.”

Wanting to protest or suggest otherwise, it was clear that Remy had different plans. Sneaking out of work hours only seemed to please him more. As he planted a few kisses in the crook of your neck, his silhouette lingering behind you, Peter took the opportunity to excuse himself. He shared a glance with you, his expression teasingly reflecting his amusement at Gambit’s protective nature.

“Now, chère,” he said, his voice hoarse and his accent more pronounced. His fingers gently caressed your waist. “We have some unfinished business to attend to, don’t we?”

He wasn’t wrong. Your eyelids grew heavier as his teeth sank in, a soft moan escaping your lips just before he covered your mouth with his hand. “No, no, no,” he purred. “Not here.” Yet, he continued, and when he finally stopped, his fingers intertwined with yours, leaving you breathless. With a look of typical smugness, he found you adorable and said, “Alons, y.”

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nouearth · 8 months ago

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let me in.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter struggles to balance between life and work, and it's ruining his relationship with you.

wc: 6.6k. genre: smut. warnings: andrew!peter, college au, established relationship, brief fighting, brief injury and blood mention (nosebleed), misunderstandings, peter reveals his identity, dry-humping, over the pants (or suit) handjob, body worshipping, lots of sweat, fingering, frotting, riding, spandex fetish, reader has a thing for peter in his spider-man suit!

You were starting to feel antsy. You could feel it—the nerves kicking in again. Anticipation—a suspension of doubt—made your hands clammy at first, but it was the time that made your hands clutch nothing but air. You rubbed the sweat off your hands onto your pants, your knees not so comforting with their pointedness.

Acceptance—when it was evident that Peter was late, again.

Birthdays have never been a big deal in your family. Sure, it was great that you had the privilege to live another year. To witness yourself grow older, to stand a few inches taller, to live a little more knowledgeable than yesterday. But growing up with parents who had to constantly work, well-late into the depths of night, it had never been more than a birthday wish that had greeted you in the mornings, and bid you slumber in the evenings. Since then, you knew not to expect anything.

If only Peter hadn’t made such a big deal out of it this year.

“Excuse me?” The familiar timbre of a voice speared your thoughts; deep and tunneling as you were transfixed on the glasses of water before you. Yours had been refilled, though a little sparse compared to Peter’s full cup.

Your eyes widened with feigned curiosity, a small smile plastered alongside to hopefully negate any annoyance from the waiter—because you expected what he was about to follow up with.

“Hey… uh,” he shifted on his feet awkwardly, eye bags weighing heavier than the last time he had checked up on you. You looked around, surprised by the amount of patrons who had filled the space around you while you were daydreaming. Laughter and smiles completely lit up the room. The dim lights were practically stationed in the restaurant for decoration, and seemingly to spotlight your ‘dinner for one’ status. “I’m sorry, but… we have no more tables to fill, and if you aren’t ordering soon, then we’ll have to give your table up for the next party...”

It was obvious that you weren’t, you hadn’t even torn into the buttery bread rolls that were piping hot forty-five minutes ago. Now, the fat had solidified into spotty, yellow clumps, though you doubt that would’ve been enough to detract from the quality of the rolls.

“Oh, I—“ You pulled out your phone to check your messages again. Nothing. Swiped down to refresh your conversation with Peter. The loading icon felt like it took forever, you half-expected that your phone was updating the thread with Peter’s messages that somehow got lost in the void of the restaurant’s spotty signal.

And nothing.

“I—yeah… uh. I-I’ll head out.” It was embarrassing. Even if the waiter had given you a sympathetic smile, you hated knowing that you wasted his time. You hated that you selfishly occupied a seat when someone else would’ve been done with dinner by the time you exited.

“Thanks—”

You hated that you had your hopes up for things to be different.

Again.

The night was dreary. Not even the wind had greeted you like the others when you stepped out. Soft and fluttering against your skin, but scolding enough to make you put your coat back on. Luckily, your apartment wasn’t too far from the restaurant, a fifteen minute walk at most if you speed-walked. Shoving your hands in your coat pockets, you then ambled along the sidewalks, wallowing in your feelings with a playlist that belted in your ears once you plugged your earbuds in.

You didn’t have the energy left to hurry home.

Once you crossed the last intersection, you felt a little bit more at ease. Seeing the familiar apartment complex at the end of the block picked your pace up a step more. You paused your music once you neared the entrance, just a turn away before you could finally bury yourself in your bed.

You reached into your pocket to grab your wallet. The weight in your palms instantly reminding you to deposit the cash tips sometime soon before the stretch of the leather had become unbearable to fit in your pocket.

Your walk slowed as your attention was fixated on your wallet, fumbling it open clumsily to retrieve your keycard. In midst, you caught a glimpse of a photo print of you and Peter, standing shoulder to shoulder with the biggest grins as Peter had a peace sign above your head, doubling as bunny ears. Honeymoon phase, they’d call it. Where you were beginning to discover more about Peter, and Peter was beginning to discover more about you. Likes. Dislikes. Hobbies. Memories. It felt like yesterday when you two were spending every second of your day with each other.

Now, it would be a miracle if Peter returned a call.

With the keycard in your hand, you turned the corner, and towards the entrance, the smiles from the photo print reflecting onto yours as you could vividly hear Peter’s pleas to retake them again. The flash of the cameras always made him blink.

If only you had been focusing on where you were going instead of the still image of the first memory between you and Peter, maybe you could have avoided the collision altogether when you approached the door. You suddenly found yourself on your back, facing the night sky as clusters of stars twinkled in laughter. There was a slight throbbing to your forehead, a mark you’d reckon would appear as purple within the next 12 hours despite the painless… pain.

“Oh god— I’m so, so, so, sorry! Let me—“ If the beating your face took to the door hadn’t snapped you back to reality already, the familiar face before you certainly pulled you out of your thoughts like whiplash once he helped you back onto your feet. Your vision instantly cleared of haze, as if his simple presence was your remedy.

“(M/N)?” Peter interrupted himself, his eyes widening. You could see the wheels turning in his head when the dim light spotlighted your features: eyes, nose, lips; flesh and bone that he was well-acquainted with.

“Peter—“ You took a moment to scan him. It was like all the other times he had been late. His fringe; stuck to his forehead with a mixture of sweat and water, the latter being a last resort to clean himself up. His knuckles; bruised and torn with minuscule cuts barely able to conceal the truth behind his scars. His necktie; clumsily done with the knots coming loose. Though, whether the silk unfurled by Peter’s own sloppiness, or by the increasing frailty of his fingers that had become susceptible by even the most delicate material of neckties; it was futile to mention it to him. You knew he’d shut you down with another excuse.

“W-what are you doing here? Are you okay? I-I’m so sorry—I was on my way to you and—Oh god, you’re bleeding!“ Breathless, panting, not only because he was panicking from running late.

But because of adrenaline. You could see it in his eyes. The alertness. The high.

“What—“ You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, only to see a smear of blood blotted across your skin. “Shit.”

Another thick drop splattered in greeting.

“Peter, it’s a nosebleed. You’re acting like I had my arm chopped off or something.” You’ve been applying pressure to your nasal bridge, pinching it tightly to barricade the stream of blood. All while you had your head tilted over Peter’s sink, in case of the blood leaking past your hold. “And how long does it take to find a cotton ball?”

“I’m trying—“ His one-sided game of hide and seek with the bag of cotton balls was leaning in favor of the latter. Medicine cabinet: empty. Bedside drawer: foreign coins and bills. You were watching him from the corner of your eye, a small limp to his step when the lightbulb seemingly lit up overhead and had him dashing towards the kitchen.

“Found it!”

Peter’s touch was delicate. Tender, like the forming bruise on your forehead. He was adamant on taking care of you, even if frankly—you would’ve done it much faster had it been a solo endeavor. Cotton balls were plugged up into your nose, and a warm face towel was laid across your forehead. If an intruder had the audacity to rob Peter’s apartment, you’d imagine you would find yourself lucking out. Peter joked that you looked like patient zero.

“All done. See? Nothing to cry about.” He was joking again, the smug smile across his face a clear indication of it—and the laugh that he couldn’t help but contain.

“Ha. Ha. Thanks, Dr. Parker. Now, how much do I owe you? I’m paying outta pocket.” For a brief moment, you forgot that you were upset earlier. All because of how nice it was to actually see him again. He pressed a kiss to your lips, a comforting gesture if his constant apologies weren’t enough. Stay focus.

“So, about dinner…”

“Oh,” Disappointment softened Peter’s smile. You could see it tightening, even as he was organizing his room. Though, it was really a matter of tossing his clothes on the floor back into the laundry basket. “Listen, my… bike got stolen and—“

“Peter…” You sighed, pinching your nose bridge because you feared another avalanche of a nosebleed incoming. That, and because it helped you maintained your composure. “You said that the last time. Three times, actually.”

“Third time’s… the charm?” He was joking. Again. But even he wasn’t laughing at it because he’d been cornered. Called out. Embarrassed that he thought that would even work on you. Embarrassed that he thought he could get away with it.

Again.

“Peter.” You called out, straightening your posture against the headboard of the bed when he sat at the end of the mattress. Shit, it’s happening.

“I… I don’t know how to…” The veins in his hands, they lined perfectly to the cuts, scrapes, and bruises on his knuckles. Clear as day now that he wasn’t hidden under a dim light. “I just…”

He had his hands around his face, rubbing his temples, his cheeks, his nose, anything that could alleviate the accelerating drill of his heartbeat.

You were hopeful to get an answer out of him. A proper explanation. But it pained you, knowing that in a few seconds—what he would tell you would only confirm your yearning suspicions of his strange behavior.

He doesn’t love you anymore. He’s cheating. You’ve become a nuisance, an absolute bore in his life. Actually, you’re a bad influence on him. You’re holding him back. He needs to let go of you to accomplish better things. He never loved you.

It’s happening. It’s fucking happening. All he has to do is say those words. The dreaded five words you’ve heard once from him in a nightmare.

I want to break up.

“If you want to break up, just say it.”

It sounded softer in your head, but the tears that had welled in your eyes finally bursted into droplets. They ran down your cheeks, and your voice broke during its pursuit.

Something commanded you to let those words slip out.

Maybe it was the ghost that you and him had been theorizing about since the night you’ve helped him move into the apartment floor above you. Carrie; you nicknamed her, and Peter would scold you for doing so because he had the suspicions that giving her a backstory would ultimately reassess his home as a possessing ground. To this day, he swore he saw a shadow looming in the corner of his room on a perfectly stormy night.

Or maybe it was the months of frustration that you had accumulated, snowballed because of your own selfish reasons to continue being with Peter for as long as you could, even if you saw the signs, because you couldn’t bear to see yourself without him. Live, when you two had promised so many futures together.

“What? No, (M/N), that’s not—“ He jolted up at the mere mention of separating from you. There was a chill. The room suddenly felt colder, and then warmer—scorching hot, when the glossiness of your gaze reflected into his. He began joining you by your side. “Hey, hey, I would never—“

He broke into a cold sweat. He’d never seen you like this. And to think that he was the root of this—of your pain—it was all overwhelming.

“Peter, there’s always something going on with you. Y-you don’t text me for days. You ignore my calls. You disappear without telling me. You’re always late. And… you’re always hurt? And you think that I’m dumb enough to not notice that you aren’t? How you’re limping? How you’re always bruised and—For god’s sake, Peter, I’m just as smart as you, we have the same GPA and—“ You took a breather, a gulp because you were rambling now. Your cheeks felt hot, from your sudden outburst and from embarrassment, because the latter half of your rant immediately negated the idea of some kind of affair.

“Okay, maybe you aren’t cheating, but—“ You felt him tug you into his arms, but you wouldn’t budge. Instead, you pushed away, edging to the other side of the bed to face him.

“I would never.” He sighed, his arms dropping as soon as you removed yourself from his embrace.

“Then what is it? You’re leaving me in the dark here. I barely see you anymore, you know that?”

“I know.” He was biting his lips. Chewing, as if he was internally debating something. A decision that could either ruin you, ruin him, or both.

“Then?”

You waited. Watched his fingers fiddle with one another as he continued turning the screws in his head. Your heart would jump whenever he would open his mouth, anticipating whatever had caused so much turmoil in his life, but there was a last minute decision that kept him silent.

Crickets.

Nothing.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you’re doing. But you’re getting hurt and I’m just… worried.” Your gaze dropped to his hands again. Pale, veiny, and full of life yet they’ve looked like they’ve been worn out. Torn. “At least tell me it’s not gambling.”

“Well—in a way with my life, it kind of is like gambling—“ He thinly smiled, hoping it would at least make you crack a smile.

“Peter!” You scoffed, nudged his side with your elbow out of frustration, then surrendered when you brought your knees up to your chest, and buried your head in between your knees. “Not funny.”

“Okay, okay, just… you can’t tell anyone.” His voice softened.

“We all know that between you and I, you’re the one with the running mouth.” Your voice muffled in the space between your legs, hands tucked around your nape.

“I’m serious, (M/N)” Pleading now, he held your hand in hopes to get ahold of your attention again, squeezing so you’d look at him. You do.

“I won’t tell.” It was a promise. Peter didn’t need you to clarify because he could see it in your eyes, honest and sincere. Determined, as if you were willing to protect him.

“Okay… and also, don’t… freak out.” Peter was off the bed now, wandering in the middle of his room as he rolled his shoulders back, relaxing the muscles in his back like a wrestler preparing for his next fight. He gestured for you to follow him out to the stairway, out into the cold.

“Why would I freak—“ There was something around his wrist. No, wrists. You thought they were watches, but there were two devices around him. They were strapped with a similar black leather to your wallet, to Peter’s, and a red button protruded in the middle of it. “Peter, what are you—“

You stopped a few feet before Peter, watching him closely, yet afar. Afraid, yet intrigued. Concerned, because he was on the ledge of the staircase now, perched like an animal. Yet there was a grin on his face. Not crazed like a madman considering he was acting like one, but foolish. Goofy, giddy like the times he’d hide stuff from you, and wait until you’d notice it was gone.

“Like I said, don’t freak out.”

“Peter, what are you even—“

With that, he opened his arms like wings that spanned across his back and flipped into the air as if the wind would carry him across city to city. As if he was recruited as a sponsor to the heavenly gods with the incredible height he’d taken off in, pursuing the clouds, the wind, the stars, and the night simultaneously all in multiple slings.

Into. The. Air.

Into the fucking air.

You raced forward with a yelp, as if you would’ve made it in time to catch him. To catch his hand before he fell. To hold him one last time before he’d land on the ground and shatter every bone in his body.

If he had landed.

No, you blinked once—twice—no, at least in the double digits because this was all a dream. It was all a dream, right? That you caught a glimpse of Peter somehow slingshotting himself from window to window, from rooftop to satellite, like it was a mundane day job one had to endure to put food on the table, to pay the bills.

Right?

You paced around the stairs, raced towards one floor to another, bending over the railings because—Peter disappeared. He was gone. If he had smashed into something, you would’ve heard him. You would’ve heard him in yelp in pain. You would’ve heard the metal railings shake. You would’ve heard him cry for help.

Instead, you heard the sound of wind. Whistling as it sailed leaves to the west of you.

As if it carried a hint along the way.

“Peter?! Peter—Fuck, fuck!” You followed the sound of the whistle. The source of the pitchy sound. Fluttering when your head spun closer to the note, wavering when you were getting colder, then peaking when your gaze lifted, higher, and higher, until it landed on him.

Peter.

Peter, perched over the rooftop of the apartment complex like a bug. The moonlight framed his silhouette, emphasized the texture of his suit; protruding grids that encased him like a nest; and you’ve never been more intimidated.

Red and blue spandex tightly-fitted over the muscles and body of the man you have been more than well-acquainted with. You’ve seen it before. It was familiar. On the news, on the papers, on the internet.

“You’re freaking out!” He yelled out, clearly amused in your frozen state of shock.

He peered over at you with a smug grin, aimed directly at your bafflement before pulling a mask over his head. It was the icing on top in rendering you utterly incapable of stringing up any words. The lens of his mask reflected off of you, mirrored your astonishment in clear display, and you sensed that would be a memory Peter would be carrying to his death bed.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Okay, so, just to clarify,” You were winded, still recovering from the heart attack Peter had nearly given you after he took you on for a stroll in the night. Into the sky.

Luckily his bed was right beside you. As soon as your legs gave out, you fell back into his mattress, and stared into the ceiling, speechless. Peter joined you after, bringing you into his arms. He’d always been aware that touching you in any way or form brought you back to reality. “You are… not a cosplayer?”

“Honestly? That would make me way more money than what I’m making right now.” You couldn’t keep your hands or eyes off of him. Peter was still in his suit, and that gave you the perfect opportunity to run your hands over the webbed texture of the spandex.

“Just a few more months until my lease is up. I can move in, and that’ll help with the rent. For both of us.” It felt like silicone, or rubber. Whatever it was, it was durable considering how thin it felt in your fingers when you rubbed it in between them.

“Just like that? You’re not mad?” Your hands came to a halt when Peter suddenly took them, and rested your palm on his cheek, coincidentally on the cut that you’ve never noticed.

“Why would I be mad?” Quieter. Your voice mellowed into a whisper as you catalogued the amount of beatings his skin had taken. Caressed the marks you were too selfish to notice. Exhaustion wore on his face, and yet he never looked so peaceful as he gazed into your eyes.

Pretty eyes, Peter thought. Ones that could motivate him to get back up after falling. That feels nice, when you pressed a kiss to his damaged skin. A touch that made him believe there was a reason to suffer, to be great, to be all of this.

“Well, for starters, it’s your birthday and… I completely blew it.” Peter closed his eyes when you began brushing his hair back, knotted in cold sweats, but you fanned your fingers out to undo them until they felt somewhat tidy in your strokes. Smooth and soft. He sighed, “Again.”

“Can’t entirely blame you. How would I look if I were to complain about missing you, when you’re out there risking your life for everyone?” It wasn’t a question, but you wanted him to look at you. To respond. And he does, when you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and he returned it with a silken one, a following grin. “All I wish for was that you told me sooner, I guess.”

“Yeah,” He figured he’d save the details of the ‘friends’ he had made along the way some other time. For now, it was all about you. “Wow, you’re not even going to wish for me to be safe?”

“Hey, you know what I mean! That’s a given.” You rubbed at his chest, finding yourself quickly accustomed to the scales of his costume. The red was striking against your palms, comforting almost.

“Still. I want to hear you say it.” Peter rolled onto his side and slipped an arm under your back, scooting closer to you. His signature goofy grin never failed to knock a similar one out of you. And unwillingly drawn out, when he began pinching at your sides in quick snips.

“Stop—“ You laughed, your hands occupying themselves to defend your body from his quick attacks. But Peter was fast, avoiding your arms and hands to find another opening that you’d abandon. “Stop, stop! Stay safe! Happy?!”

Closer and closer, you found yourself beneath him, framed by his body as he took your arms above your head and pinned them secured with his tight grasps.“Incredibly.”

Your legs spread open to make room for his body, only for Peter to wrap them around his waist, to press his body into you, kissing you like he was driven to steal your breath.

“This your way of making it up to me?” You broke apart from the kiss, only briefly, before the taste of Peter, the softness of his lips reeled you back in for another kiss. Languidly paced until one’s accelerating lust for one another had taken ahold of the wheel and shifted gears, into a weightiness that kept your mouth parted open while Peter’s impulse to explore you had become evidently clear.

“Problem with that?” He’d been driving his hips into you, grinding his front with your own. Both clothed, infuriatingly covered, but the pressure in between your bulge and Peter’s was too pleasing to ignore. Too satisfying to make him stop. “I should take this off—“

“No, wait—“ You grabbed his forearm when he reached back to unzip his suit. To be honest, you never thought about how he even got in or out of the suit in the first place, but that was beside the point. Something about this suit, this costume, whatever you wanted to call it; it was a turn-on.

The way it fit snug against Peter’s body; how every fiber of muscle was stretching the material to its limit. Maybe you were just turned on because you associated it with him being a hero. For god’s sake, that was as much of an aphrodisiac one could be if you happened to be saved from a falling tower.

Or maybe, it was simply how Peter looked in it. Unabashedly handsome, yet himself, seemingly courting you further into his webs, as if he hadn’t already from day one.

“Keep it on. I like it.” You muttered, fiddling with the collar of his suit. It was snapped on tight, but you managed to slip a finger or two past, to pull at it with a stretch.

“Then how are we going to…” He abandoned the few inches he had unzipped, providing a small relief to the squeeze around his body while his broad back was bare and tense towards the ceiling.

“Then, you’ll take it off. But for now, I just want to…” One hand was on his nape, pulling him down for another heated kiss, while the other traveled south between your body and his. Further, lower, until you cupped him at his crotch. Rubbing, squeezing, and palming at the thick, growing center. “Want to try something…”

You could feel him smiling, a crooked one flattened against your own grin when he whispered, “I should’ve told you sooner, shouldn’t I.”

“You think?”

You were getting harder, your pants beginning to tighten around the center as you palmed him. It was a heavy handful in the beginning, but Peter’s bulge began to unfurl. It didn’t take long, didn’t take much of a stroke for him to unravel from his tuck and thicken into a full-blown erection towards the left side of his thigh. It pointed downwards, the plump head evident through his suit, and you were beginning to drool in Peter’s mouth at the haziest image of it.

“Come on, I need to get out of this… It’s killing me.” It wasn’t like Peter to beg. It was charming, cute, sexy, all the synonyms that could describe how you felt all day and every day about him, and you squeezed, because he wasn’t being patient with you.

“Birthday boy gets what he wants, don’t you think?” He winched into your mouth, and you swallowed him. Swallowed every ounce of breath, and breathed it back out with a kiss. Sloppy, heavy, your tongue weighing on his because you wanted to keep his lips apart, mouth open to hear his moans.

Peter grunted again once you began stroking his cock, touching him like it was a delicate plate of chin. Fingertips only, dusting him off with little pressure so he wouldn’t shatter.

“What are you going to do about it, hm?” You continued your short, limp strokes. “Just going to take it? Hm?” Your wrist was weak, lazy as it became limp to tease him even more. Peter sucked in a breath, doing his best to maintain his composure, but it was all futile, all those attempts of sucking in his lip to chew, to hold back his moans, because you’d slap his clothed cock, grasp it tight in your hand, and massage as much as you could gather.

“Fuck, baby—“ You had him under your control. Even if his hands were free, you knew he wouldn’t lay a finger on you. He knew that if he did, you’d stop touching him, stop stimulating the blood running down every vein of his cock, fueling his erection. His desires.

He couldn’t let that happen. Not after the day, the week, the months that he’d been having.

You and Peter eventually switched places: Peter resting on his back while you sat in between his legs, marveling at the stretch of his suit. Somehow, his cock looked bigger than you’d remember. Squished and pressed flush against his thigh like this. The suit was like a magnet, inviting your hand back to his cock and refusing to let you go.

“Just relax.” You commanded him. He was watching you slouched up against the headboard, gravity weighing his eyelids lower. With his legs spread apart, he provided you excess space as you began massaging his right thigh with your free hand. “Is this okay?”

“Mm-hm...” He knew you were talking about the pressure on his thigh, but the strokes over his cock remained supreme in his mind. Championed through as you pressed harder into the shaft, massaging tenderly from vein to vein. The protruding webbed texture of his suit pressed into him, rolled against cock like the inside of a fleshlight, ultimately adding onto the already gratifying pleasure.

It was glorious.

“More…” Peter gritted through his teeth, a selfish need for more escaping from his lips in huffs. Grunts, when you’d fulfill his wish with two hands now, kneading his cock like dough.

Thick, stiff, throbbing dough.

Before the complaints could come pouring in, you shimmied your pants off in a hurry, tossing it in the corner before greedily climbing onto Peter’s lap. It was like he read your mind, perhaps another secret that he’d been hiding, because he immediately took you into his arms. An embrace, a tight one that grounded you against his bulge, pressing your body weight until it restricted the blood flowing into his erection, as well as preventing an escape.

“You’re so hard…” You marveled at how rigid he’d gotten under you, grinding your ass against the large mass, beating and throbbing with every rut.

“I’m so hard.” He confirmed, complained, and bragged all in one smile. He then took you by the nape to kiss you again. Hard on the mouth, slow with his tongue to taste you and your desires, his desires. His other hand rested on the small of your back, guiding your grinds at first before his fingers looped into your waistband, tugging once before stuffing the strap under your ass cheeks. Your hard-on was the only thing keeping the cotton material from slipping off while you continued grating your hips. “Just like that…”

To make it easier for you, Peter repositioned his erection so it was facing north, towards his navel, in its sublime mass. Your briefs had been tossed to the side now, completely bare bottomed against him while you mounted over him, and rode in needy strides. It was a sight to behold, something that Peter reckoned he should savor. He folded his arms behind his head, providing a self-made cushion for the weight of it, and watched you. It was entrancing, like a dance. You swiveled your hips to a ghosting rhythm, one that could only be heard between two hearts, two parties, between the two of you, man to man.

“Like this…?” Breathless, you unbuttoned your shirt open, but left it present on your body. Sweat formed over your neck, dribbled down to your bare and exposed chest; it was practically an open-invitation for Peter to ravish you. And so he did, with a haunting groan as he held you, contained you in the warmth of his arms as he simultaneously pulled you forward, and pushed himself off the headboard to meet you in the middle.

He kissed you on the neck, achingly hard when he sucked, and then enthralling, sweat-inducing when he bit into your skin. He couldn’t contain himself. You tasted too good, and it’d been too long since he had you just like this. “Just like that. Your cock against my cock, fuck. I love it so fucking much.” He muttered hot against your neck, panting because he was sweating too. The spandex felt tighter on his skin, constricting against him with every drop of sweat.

“Oh, fuck…” His lips had latched onto your nipples now. Peter’s tongue worked magic on your two nubs, flicking and swirling over their perkiness until you felt swollen. Raw, when he bit, pulled, bit, and bit again. You buried your face into his hair, rocking yourself back and forth with your arms holding him close to your chest, gliding your cock against his print as if a gun was pointed to your head, like your life depended on making Peter come.

You were delirious, humping Peter without a single thought other than to get him off, and you’d reckon that was the goal lingering in Peter’s head as he began rocking back into you. It took a while for him to find your rhythm, chasing after it in slower, sluggish beats, but eventually he caught up to you, snapping his hips against your own, grinding his cock against yours like two crescent moons caressing the other’s curvature.

“Close…” He muttered into your shoulder. Your shirt was hanging off, exposing more of your skin, but Peter made sure you didn’t feel a single chill with the marks he had followed up with soon after. It was like he had done it on purpose. Made you feel safe in his arms, comfortable in the warmth of his body, worshiped with the amount of care he had given your body. Frozen, when you felt something prod at your pucker. Then enraptured, when Peter pushed a wet finger inside of you.

Tremors, chilling tremors ran down your spine as you took the single digit Inside of you with one determined push. “Fuck—“ Your back arched, chest pushed forward towards him, and your hips jolted forward in one strong, and delicious swipe against Peter’s cock. “Peter…”

It was a mouthwatering display of food before him. The perky nubs on your chest, the veins in your neck, the mole on your body, the strain of your thighs on overdrive, the swollen head of your cock; Peter didn’t know what to lay his finger on first, what to mouth on, what to kiss, and suck, and latch onto until you’d scream. Whichever it was, he knew you were desperate for him. Begging, sweating, whimpering, for Peter to lay a finger on you. Another finger inside of you now, and you rolled your eyes at the stretch he was providing you with, a fulfilling wish that startled your hips once more.

“You’re so good, so good for me…” Peter was staring up at you, marveling at the layer of sweat on your body. It glistened with every movement, dripped heavily with every thrust of Peter’s fingers, and tasted just like how he remembered. Salty when he licked up your neck, up your chest, against your nipples, and repeated. Your body was his, and Peter was determined to let the world know. Determined to remind you in case that you’d forgotten.

Your hands were wandering. Grabbing and touching at anything and everything that could linger in between your fingers. Peter’s hair, his head, shoulders, chest, your cock and his, his back. Everything. You couldn’t keep your hands off of him. Even if he was covered from head to toe, you were touching him. Because he was yours.

“Gonna come—“ You cupped Peter’s jaw to straighten his posture, to kiss him sloppily on the mouth, and he pulled his fingers out of you, resting them on either side of your hips as he joined you once again in grinding hips. The pleasure was overbearing, drilling into each individual brain until the smallest movement would render you both speechless. Panting in slurred moans of each other’s names, of profanities that you two had rarely used in your lifetime on earth.

“Me too…” Peter pushed himself on top of you now. Your arms were tied around his neck, tighter than the necktie he had on prior, and your legs; they wrapped around his waist equally secured, if not even tighter, as he thrusted against you.

You were too distracted, unable to respond to Peter’s constant licks in your mouth. He was desperate for you, suckling on your tongue and chasing after it once it slipped out because of your moans. They were rattling, each breath immediately vaulted in the back of Peter’s throat because he couldn’t part from you. Couldn’t imagine a life where he would. And if he had to, at least he’d have a part of you inside of him. Even if it was a whisper.

He thrusted harder, panting into your mouth, his nose practically smushed flat against yours. He wondered if you could imagine that life, a life without him.

“P-Pete—Shit, I’m—“ Your fingers dug into his nape, grounding him impossibly closer to you when that feeling had suddenly come to stun you in place.

It simmered hard in your stomach, then to a rolling boil as it traveled lower to your pelvis. You squeezed your stomach, clenched your toes, and your eyes widened when Peter’s hips showed no signs of faltering. Your cock swelled and your balls jolted, tightened, until you finally saw stars bursting into flames and let gravity have it come crashing down on you. Shivers had you enclose your arms around Peter, holding onto him tight as you felt yourself crumble and spill all over your chest and his suit. You came with a gritted grunt of his name, sinking your nails into his nape because you had nowhere else to channel your spasms as Peter kept rocking against you, drunkenly astonished by how you came for him. By how much you needed him.

It didn’t take long before Peter came right after. He buried his head into your neck, stifling moans into the heat of your neck, clammy with sweat, yet comforting as he filled the inside of his suit with thick, large loads. You felt his cock throb against you when you reached down to help, to ride out his orgasm to the fullest. His cock pulsed as you’d imagine several thick pumps of his load would gush out and uncomfortably layer his navel. If only his suit hadn’t been waterproof, because there was no doubt that he would’ve been leaking out of it by now.

You’ve never been so jealous of spandex.

He was hot in your ear, panting, breathing you in, then breathing you out as you slowed the strokes on his softening cock. Then a sudden inhale, a jolt of his body, when you squeezed hard, to seal the deal in covering the entirety of his cock in his own cum. It was filthy. It was shameless. It was Peter.

“Driving me crazy here…” Peter sluggishly lifted himself off of you to face you, a sleepy smile plastered across his face as you kept kneading at his cock, increasingly sensitive with every second.

“Not enough to drive you away, right?” You smiled, drowsy yourself as you quickly found your high coming to a crash. Though, you mustered enough strength to hold Peter’s cheek in your palm, tenderly caressing, to which he immediately kissed as soon as it reintroduced itself.

Peter sighed, holding your gaze for what felt like minutes, and yet you wished it could be for longer.

It was different this time, the way he looked at you. The same amount of love and warmth, yes. But they no longer wavered, no longer tried to find something else to look at in case you were prying about.

“Never.”

Instead, they stilled, relaxed the longer you stared into him, into those brown eyes of his, because you were in now.

You were finally in his life.

How much you needed him? His question had been answered.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

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