#smutty anon ask

[t0yac1d]

One More (H.Shinsou x Fem!Reader)

Request: Shinsou x Fem! reader (smut, p in v, stress sex, overstimulation - reader) oh and degradation towards the reader PLZ

Warnings: Smut, p in v, stress sex, overstimulation, degrading, after care

Word Count: 573

You threw your hair back, hair sticking to your forehead and sweat trickling down your body. The room was hot and muggy, the sound of skin slapping, and your whines bounced off of the walls in Shinou's dorm room.

You tried pushing him away and getting off of him, but he held you down on his lap. His nails dug into the skin of your hips, crescent shapes forming from his grip.

"One more, just give me one more. This is what you wanted remember?"

He wasn't wrong. He was studying and very evidently stressed, but he wouldn't take breaks or even take care of himself. You could see it on his face, he needed a break, even if it was ten minutes, an hour, or more. You ended up "bothering" him about it all week.

"I- I gave you 'one m-more' a while ago.." you moaned, "You were practically throwing yourself on me all week, like a whore. I deserve more than one."

You bounced on his dick, and he thrusted up into you. His thrusts were pretty rough as were his words. You felt yourself close to another orgasm, you were so sensitive that even the slightest touch on your skin would make you whimper.

You rested your forehead on Shinsou's, the both of you panted and took a breather. Shinsou picked you up and gently placed you on his bed.

Your hands came up to your forehead and you wiped some sweat away. Shinsou rubbed light circles on your hips and you felt his dick grow inside you.

"Not again," you whined, putting your hand on his chest. "Yes again," he said, his tone was mocking and mean. "One more. Help me get rid of this stress."

He grabbed your hand and held it above your head. His strokes were slow and deep, you could feel him, like really feel him.

"Just let me use you. You'll let me, right?"

You nodded your head and let out a choked moan.

"Yeah, just let me use this slutty pussy of yours."

He looked down at where you guys met, all he could see was the way you squeezed his cock and your cum on his base from the many times he made you cum in one sitting.

Shinsou moaned in your ear, he sounded so pretty and he knew the affect it had on you.

He played with your very sensitive clit and honestly, he didn't need to do anything, you came almost immediately. Shinsou slowly pulled out and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his purple locks out his face.

He put a pair of pants on and walked out of his room to get a warm wet rag, bottle of water, and a couple of snacks for you. He came back and cleaned you up, he was extra careful and gentle, he knew how sensitive you were because of him.

Shinsou sat down next to you and rubbed your back. "Thanks for your help. I feel better now," he said, giving you a soft smile. "You need to take care of yourself more." you muttered, ridiculing him. "I mean if I get to use you every time I'm stressed, I won't listen to you from now on."

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before Shinsou leaned closer to you and whispered in your ear, "How about giving me just one more?"

[sushirrrry]

pulse. a harry styles one-shot; 12k words. the one where harry goes with his best friend, jack, and jack's little sister, charli to a music festival. CW: language, explicit sexual content (fingering, squirting, intercourse), explicit drug use

“And that’s when I knew I wanted to save the world, one fire at a time.”

The looks from the girls in front of them were flourished with admiration, maybe a bit of chaos and something that was a bit more addictive than that. But Jack was pushing his shoulder into Harry as they stood there, trying his best to play the wingman that Harry had desperately tried to dismiss the entire situation.

Harry held the bottle between his fingers, lifting it to take a sip as the morning sun rounded out into the cloudless sky. The tension in his back was killing him, his eyes were a bit heavy at the way that he tossed and turned all night from laying on the ground.

“But my guy here,” Jack took his hand on Harry’s shoulder to bring his attention back, “This guy saves more than just lives— he’s preserving the art in the minds of children.”

Jack was laying it on heavy, building up every detail of Harry’s life to mean much more than it was. Harry being a primary school music teacher wasn’t anything that was new and exciting in the real world. Jack made it sound much, much more delicate, and necessary than it was.

The two girl’s faces were astonished by the fact, one staring at Harry until he caught her eye. He smiled sheepishly at the fact, nodding a few times to confirm with what Jack had been saying before he turned his head to notice someone coming from one of the tents in their small camp.

Her hair was long and untouched, small braids still placed in her hair as she placed sunglasses over her eyes. The night before was a bit too rough on them; Harry was aware that the second day usually felt worse than the first. He couldn’t seem to turn his head away as he watched her diligently try to unscrew the top of her water bottle, almost as if her muscles had turned to mush.

Harry took it upon himself to move towards her, taking himself out of the conversation before she saw him coming.

“Need some help with that?” He offered. His own hand holding a beer as Charli held out her bottle towards him with a small grunt.

“I don’t know how you’re drinking that without gagging.” Her voice was rough, hoarse, as she cleared her throat.

Charli took a seat under the small pavilion that their group had set up; her seat now in a foldable chair as she slinked into it. The large t-shirt covering her chest and her pajama shorts that resembled boxers were nicely matched with the tall, rain boots that she had been wearing around their small camp as the dust and dirt seemed to be kicked up.

Harry took the water bottle from her hand, holding his beer against his chest as he multitasked to unscrew the top lid.

“I didn’t take any shots of lemonade vodka, and I drank a bunch of water before bed. That might have helped a bit.” Harry smiled at her; his eyes not being able to relay the affection that they may have had behind the dark sunglasses on his face. The backwards hat sat on head while the bandana around his neck helped to shield the morning sun.

He didn’t want to stare; he knew that his sunglasses had been blocking the obvious, though.

“You look good for someone who’s probably one sip of water shy of dying, I have to say.” Harry shrugged, watching as she took a few sips from the bottle he had opened for her. The look on her face showed a bit of thankfulness of him obviously giving her some pity.

“I don’t think that sleeping in tents is necessarily my thing,” Charli shook her head, knowingly hating camping to an obvious degree, but wanting to find herself in these experiences that pushed her boundaries.

That was the whole reason that she was here in the first place. Charli was always the little sister that wanted to keep up; she wanted to do everything that Jack did, and she knew that she could if he would just let her participate. When this summer festival came around, Charli asked her friend Rena to book a ticket to come with her—knowing that Jack and Harry would say no to it.

Harry and Jack went to festivals all year—they frequented this one in Spain every year and had become quite close with a bunch of other people who had traveled in for it. But this time, Charli wanted to just insert herself into the situation so neither of them could deny her entry, or her company.

Jack and Charli were close, but that did not mean that he wanted to watch her dance around at a festival and get herself into trouble. Neither did Harry, really.

But something had changed a bit. Harry hadn’t seen Charli in a year or so. He hadn’t spoken to her or hung out with her enough to notice the changes in her personality, her being, her looks. She was older now; she wasn’t the little teenage sister that tried to slip into the car every time they would head to the mall or to grab a bite to eat.

She was always beautiful, there was no denying that. But Harry found himself blushing at her remarks, stopping himself from staring at the way clothes hung off her body, and tried to deny himself from watching as she danced with her friend while trying to entertain the other men standing behind them.

Charli had always just been Jack’s little sister.

Sometime between the lines, it had taken a turn, though. Harry had looked at Charli one day and noticed that her eyes struck a match, his heart started to race a bit faster than usual, his eyes stared to wander, his palms became a bit sweatier than normal.

Instead, he tried his best to remain subtle—not wanting to say anything different, but just allowing the weekend to go along.

After the awkward teenage years when they would go on family holiday’s, Harry would always think Charli was quite funny—she was witty and dry with her humor, but it always intrigued him to some degree. And she had always been very good at Pictionary, which Harry found hilarious.

Now, it was different. Now, Harry found himself staring longer, harder. But it must’ve just been the heat, he thought.

“You look like shit,” Jack had mentioned, coming from behind Harry as he looked at his little sister, “Festival already got the best of you lot already, hm?”

When Charli had approached Jack to wanting to go to this festival in Spain, Jack and Harry had already made plans with their friends to go. Jack, being her older brother, had shown some apprehension considering he knew that Charli and Rena had never done anything like this before. They were freshly in university, a few years younger than Harry and Jack.

“Don’t be fucking annoying,” Charli said to Jack, rubbing her forehead, “We’re just hungover—it’s nothing unusual and we aren’t used to the bit of heat all the time. We’ll be okay.”

Harry’s lip turned up on the side, but his attention as brought back to Jack who hit him on the chest.

“What was that for?” Harry asked, a bit taken back by the action as he rubbed the site where he had been hit.

“Mate, you totally walked away from those two birds, left me in the dust,” Jack turned his head to try and locate them, craning his neck, “The blonde was totally into you. They were having a kickback before heading back into the grounds tonight.”

Harry focused on the beer in his hands, finishing the first one of the days before he threw it over to the small pile of garbage that they had started to collect.

“Dunno—not super interested,” Harry shrugged, but Jack gave him a strong look of disapproval.

“Not interested? In what? You not interested?” The confusion was taking over him as the three of them sat in the small, confined area. Harry poked his tongue into his cheek before he tried to think of how to get Jack to stop talking.

He didn’t care that Charli would hear how Jack talked about him—surely, she could figure out his habits on her own, but he didn’t necessarily want them repeated. Of course they had had fun at festivals in the past. But there was a small amount of embarrassment that sat on his chest as he felt the judgement pour off from Charli’s facial expression.

“It’s like, a girl’s rite of passage to hook up with you at a festival once.” Jack chuckled, grabbing his own beer from the fridge before popping open the cap, looking over at Charli. “Better keep Rena away from him tonight or he may go mad with the wandering hands.”

Charli smirked at the comment, “I’m not keeping anyone away from anyone else. Maybe she wants someone’s wandering hands.”

Jack chuckled at the comment, Harry rolled his eyes with the smile steady on his face.

The three of them sat around, making themselves a few sandwiches for breakfast—Harry brought bagels for them to share. They sat in a circle, eating and talking about the day ahead of them. The heat hadn’t really started to become an issue; it was quite nice in the shade unless you were in the direct sunlight.

The day took them into night—getting ready in their tents, while simultaneously letting the party get started. Jack and Charli were significantly more into drinking than Harry was; he kept a steady buzz with the beers that he had brought, but he let general buzz of the alcohol mixed perfectly with the contentment of the weed, too.

Jack had always made fun of Harry in the best way because he always knew how to have the best time, making sure that everyone else was having the best time around him. It was a rare kind of person who knew his own limits but was able to let the people surrounding him in on the most significant adventure of a lifetime.

Harry didn’t add much to what he was wearing except a bandana around his neck to keep the dust low. His sunglasses hung from his shirt, the backwards hat shieled his neck from the hot afternoon sun. The Adidas sneakers were dusty and worn, his shorts and t-shirt were moderately hot from the dark colors that absorbed the heat.

But it was when Charli and Rena came out of their tent that his eyes tried their best to look away—failing miserably, he knew.

Her perfectly sun-kissed skin with patches of redness that he just knew would burn to the touch with spots of freckles that accompanied, the dark curls that cascaded down her back with micro-braids that were misplaced, her top was practically irrelevant as it hung from her shoulders and tied around her back with just a simple string.

It was all that it took for him not to combust. He tried to remind himself: it’s Charli. Something about that sentiment stopped working like it had before.

The group was a bit larger now; there were many more people around to involve and take his attention. He watched as Charli and Rena had found the attention that both had been looking for. A few different guys who looked more their age had started to make their way around them. Charli and Rena took a few shots, their energy had increased drastically with a mid-day nap and some blush to help elevate themselves.

When they started to move their way towards the stages and grounds, Harry had packed himself what he needed in his pockets—a few joints, a baggie with other worldly possibilities, and a lighter. Everything he could have needed.

The bass pounded relentlessly, a constant thrum that seemed to reverberate in Harry’s chest, matching the wild, erratic beat of his heart. The music festival was a sensory overload—lights that dazzled, bodies that pressed in from all sides, and a heady mix of sweat, alcohol, and something else altogether more intoxicating the longer he stood and watched. It was almost as if he had been placed into another world; his brain would have convinced him, otherwise.

Charli.

She moved like a force of nature through the crowd, her every step drawing his gaze, every laugh tightening the coil of desire in his chest.

She was supposed to be off-limits, a hard line he’d promised himself never to cross. But tonight, with the flashing lights painting her skin in shades of electric blue and purple from the neon lights that threatened him with desire, Harry could barely remember why.

It wasn’t just the way she looked, although that was enough to drive any man to the edge. Her outfit—a slinky, black top paired with high-waisted micro-shorts—revealed just enough to set his imagination on fire yet left enough to keep him burning. It was the way she moved, all easy confidence, as if she knew exactly the effect she had on him, and maybe she did. The sway of her hips, the way her curls bounced with each step.

It was all fun and games until her eyes sought him out in the crowd—it all added to the tightrope tension between them that he hadn’t been sure was there before.

He shouldn’t be here, standing this close to her, watching her with hungry eyes while pretending that he didn’t want to touch her, taste her. But here he was, and there she was, her presence overwhelming every shred of common sense he had left.

She caught him staring—again—and shot him a look over her shoulder that made his pulse skip. Harry wasn’t sure that she had been looking at him, either. He wasn’t sure if he was misreading the signs; maybe she was just looking past him.

But that smile, playful and knowing, was his undoing. It was like she could see right through him, could tell that he was a hairsbreadth away from losing all control that he had. And maybe she liked it, liked knowing she had him wrapped around her little finger.

When she slipped through the crowd, it was like slow-motion. She was turning her head just enough to signal him to follow, and he didn’t hesitate in the slightest bit. It was almost an innate reaction to her; she walked, he followed. His feet moved of their own accord, pushing past bodies until he was right behind her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin. She led him away from the main stage to a more secluded spot where the music was a distant pulse, and the crowd thinned out. The darkness here was thicker, the lights softer, casting long shadows.

Charli stopped abruptly, turning to face him, and he nearly collided with her. The sudden proximity knocked the breath out of him. Her chest brushed against his as she looked up at him through her lashes, eyes dark and inviting.

“You’re quiet tonight,” she teased, her voice soft but laced with something that made his blood run hot. “Something on your mind?”

“More than a few things,” Harry replied, his voice rough, strained. Her scent was everywhere, a mix of something sweet and sharp, mingling with the night air, making it hard to think about anything other than how close she was. He could reach out, just a little, and—

No. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

But then she tilted her head, and that damned smile returned, like she knew exactly what she was doing to him. “Like what?” she asked, her tone daring him to say it, to cross that line they both knew was there.

He clenched his fists, shoving them deep into his pockets to keep from reaching out and touching her. Instead, he pulled out the joint he’d rolled earlier, holding it between them as a distraction, a lifeline.

“Like this,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Want some?”

Charli’s eyes flicked down to the joint, then back up to him, and the look in them was nothing short of wicked.

 “Sure,” she murmured, stepping even closer, until there was no space left between them. Her fingers brushed against his as she took the joint from his hand, the contact sending a jolt of electricity straight through him.

He watched, mesmerized, as she brought it to her lips. Her eyes glanced up at him with few blinks before Harry’s hand cuffed around the spliff to light it as it sat between her lips.

The motion was slow, deliberate, and his gaze was locked on her mouth, on the way her lips wrapped around the end of the joint, the way she inhaled deeply, then exhaled a plume of smoke that curled in the cool night air. Her eyes never left his, and there was something in them, something hot and dangerous, that made his pulse quicken.

When she passed the joint back to him, their fingers lingered, the touch just a little too long to be accidental. Harry took it, barely feeling it between his fingers, all his senses focused on the heat of her body so close to his. He took a drag, more out of necessity than desire, needing something to calm the riot of emotions inside him. But it didn’t help. If anything, it made the world spin faster, the edges of his control fraying with each second that passed.

“Having a good time so far?” Harry asked her, watching as she waited for him to pass it back to her. When he did, she took it gratefully and took another puff herself.

“Definitely. I’m just a bit overwhelmed, I think. So much going on, the music just—you can feel it in your bones. You can really—yeah, I don’t know, I just feel really, really good.” Her voice was sharp, but it had a bit of slurring to it. He knew that the dehydration and overall adrenaline would send her into overdrive if she kept up the pace of her habits. He took the joint away from her this time, wanting to keep her from overdoing it.

It was obvious—the way that she moved closer to him when he would take another step back. He could smell the alcohol on her breath, but he had watched her take only a few drinks before getting here tonight. It was obvious that they were getting high on something stronger than any of the substances combined.

Harry cleared his throat, letting their eyes linger on one another for a long moment—much longer than he had anticipated, but when her lips parted for a moment, he shifted on his feet.

“You know we shouldn’t be doing this,” he murmured, not entirely sure if he was talking about the joint or the way they were practically pressed up against each other, the space between them crackling with unspoken tension.

Charli took a step closer, closing whatever distance was left between them. Her body was almost flush against his now, her breath warm against his neck as she leaned in. “Doing what?” she whispered, her voice so soft, so innocent, and yet so full of intent that it made his head swim.

“You know this is just some infatuated fantasy shit, right?” Harry’s voice was low, “Your signals—your messages. You don’t want to mess around with me, Char.”

He went to place the joint between her lips again; his fingers lingered at her lips as she gratefully took the end. The color of her lips was the softest baby pink he had ever seen, a color so intimidating and intriguing.

“I think you’re writing me off because you think you know me,” Charli shook her head as she held the joint between her fingers, blowing out the smoke, “But I think you’re a bit scared. And I’m very intrigued. It’s my first festival, after all.”

Harry scoffed, “Not scared at all, love.”

Charli bit her lip, knowing the implications of the way that his eyes would gravitate towards where her teeth held her lip. Her tongue ran over her bottom lip softly, watching him stare at every single tiny movement that she could benefit from his view.

“So full of shit,” She half-whispered, shaking her head, “Can’t keep your eyes off of me, you really think you could keep your hands off if you got the opportunity?”

Harry’s eyes raised at her words, his tongue pushing into his cheek as he lifted his hand to take a large draw of the spliff between his fingers. The smile on his face was significant as he practically chuckled at her words.

“You think I’m scared to put my hands on you?” Harry shook his head, feeling the pity as he stepped close to her. The small space that they had created here in the back of the lot had become theirs as he stared into her eyes. “I’m scared I wouldn’t be able to stop once I started. This wouldn’t be a one-time thing—me and you. That’s why it’s not happening.”

Charli’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she listened to the words he spoke, practically feeling the overwhelming feeling on her skin just at his words. She tried to keep herself together, but he saw right through it.

It was practically a growl that he let out, hoping that she would back off, “I’d fucking wreck you, Char.”

As quick as he spoke, she took a step forward, “Well, then fucking wreck me.”

Her lips brushed his jaw, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down his spine. Harry’s hand tightened around the joint, the other clenching at his side as he fought to keep control, to not give in to the desire roaring inside him. He stuck his hand in the front of his pocket as he felt his cock twitch just at the hot breath of her so close.

There were a million words in his brain, but they were all nonsense.

“Charli,” he breathed, her name a rough exhale, a plea. He knew he should push her away, should step back, but he couldn’t. His hand moved on its own, slipping around her waist, pulling her closer. “We can’t—”

“Why not?” she challenged, her lips brushing against his ear, her breath hot and teasing. Her hands moved to his shoulders as she pulled herself against, letting the smell of him infatuate every part of her being. “Please, please, please.”

Her words were a siren’s call, a temptation way too sweet to resist. His resolve, already shaky, crumbled to dust. His grip on her waist tightened, and she responded by pressing even closer, her body fitting perfectly against his.

His mouth hovered over hers, the world narrowing to just the two of them, to the feel of her, the taste of her on the air.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game with me.” He whispered, his voice a hoarse rasp, heavy with the desire he could no longer hide. The sound of the music in the background was just enough to heighten their senses as he practically breathed a moan into her own.

Charli smiled, that same knowing smile, and his heart skipped a beat. Her lips brushing his without another word, the touch so light it was almost a tease, a promise of what could be if he just let go.

The last thread of restraint snapped. Harry’s hand slid up her back, fingers tangling in her curls as he pulled her to him, crushing his mouth against hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was fire and desperation, a release of all the tension that had been building between them for so long.

If she wanted to be wrecked, so be it.

Charli responded in a way that surprised him, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. She tasted like smoke and something sweeter, something that made him dizzier than he had felt in a while. The thump of the bass had disintegrated into a memory, the sounds of the stranger around them had begun to dismiss, the only thing that mattered was the feel of her in his arms, the sound of her soft moan against his lips as he devoured his only saving grace.

He kissed her harder, deeper, pouring everything he’d been holding back into that one searing kiss. Her hands roamed over his back, her nails digging into his skin through his shirt, sending a thrill through him. He wanted more, needed more, and the way she clung to him told him she felt the same.

But then, just as he was about to lose himself completely in her, a shout rang out from somewhere behind them, cutting through the haze of desire like a knife. The sound shattered the moment, and they broke apart, breathless, their hearts pounding in unison as Harry practically pushed her away from him.

“Charli!”

Rena’s voice had come from behind Harry, neither of them laying an eye on her until they had moved apart, and Harry’s back turned towards her. They hadn’t known how much she had seen, but it seemed like her cognizance had been long gone as she stumbled her way over to her friend.

“Hi, Harry,” Rena had seemed to forget Charli was there for a moment as she gave Harry attention first, her hand making its way to his bicep as she tried to steady herself. She moved her attention back to Charli, “I met someone who can hook us up, but I don’t know—like how much are you willing to pay? And like, he seems nice.”

Harry’s attention moved back to the conversation before his eyes narrowed gently at their predicament. He bit his lip just at the way that it didn’t sit right with him.

“I mean, a good amount, I guess. Nothing crazy. What’s he have?” Charli asked, almost like she had forgotten what had happened moments ago.

“He didn’t really say—I don’t think he’s given specifics, but I think we just want to tell him what we want to feel, and he can give it out.”

Harry shook his head, as he leaned down between them. “I know it’s your first time doing shit like this, but don’t fucking buy drugs from a random dude at a festival. That’s a way to get you offed. Unless he can prove his inventory, just don’t waste your time. Stick with the psilocybin’s and X.”

Rena and Charli looked back at him, before he shrugged.

“We have a hundred in cash,” She pressed, “I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re not just sitting on weed and beer, Harry. You and Jack go to festivals all the time—I’m not an idiot. Help us get something.”

Harry took a sip of the bottle, humming to himself before he shook his head at the thought. Turning to face her, he noticed the depth of her blue eyes that captured his breath for a moment.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to help my friend’s little sister roll like that,” He shook his head, “Especially if something happens to you. Not taking that chance.”

The words of implication felt odd as he spoke to them, the truth feeling a bit overwhelming before he watched Charli bite her lip and lift her eyes to him.

“Don’t let anything happen to me, then,” She bit her lip again, as if knowing that was the game to be played. Rena watched the interaction, but it wasn’t clear if she was taking anything into memory, “Do it with us, if you’re so worried about us.”

Rena rolled her eyes at the interaction, “C’mon, Char. He’s not going to help. I’m going to go ask for more details, I’ll meet you back here, yeah?”

Charli bit her lip as she crossed her arm; she nodded a few times as she watched her friend move back towards another guy that was behind Harry—one of the ones that they had talked to earlier. There was a group of a few guys and girls that seemed to be the same age, and possibly the same curiosity as them with these types of experiences.

She turned back to Harry, a bit disappointed by his lack of help and coddling of her.

“I’m definitely not doing it with you—that’s dangerous if you’ve never tripped before,” He told her firmly, giving her an answer she may have been looking for. Biting the inside of his cheek, he decided to question her a bit more, “But how do you want to feel?”

Charli took a moment to think, crossing her arms as she shrugged, almost like she didn’t know how to respond to his request. She wasn’t prepared for him to answer her that way; there was so much that she didn’t know, but she didn’t want him to read from her, in hopes that he may breakdown and help her out.

“I want to feel light—I want to feel careless and out of body. I want to feel a heavenly touch, almost,” She tried to think, “A pleasure like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Like, bringing me to tears type of euphoria.”

It was almost like she had described exactly what he had wanted to do for her for years, but her innocent face hadn’t caught onto it yet. His smirk wasn’t hidden as he turned away from her, pulling the bottle to his lips as he shook his head with a blush on his cheeks.

“Well, shit, Char,” He answered with a bit of shyness, “You don’t need drugs for that, you know.”

Her recognition had caught on, breathing out of her nose just a bit before she covered her face with her hand.

“That’s what everyone seems to say, but I guess I’m not having the same type of experiences they are.”

Harry bit hard on the inside of his cheek, practically drawing blood as he looked down at the ground. A race of thoughts entered through his brain, pacing back and forth at the thought of how much he couldn’t stand to be next to her now—he couldn’t think now if he wanted to. He hummed again, in recognition of her statement before he ran his thumb over his lip to try to keep himself busy for a moment.

“I’ll help you out, but only under one condition,” He told her; moving to face her, even though he knew that was not a clever idea. He knew as soon as he turned to look at her that he wanted to look away.

She nodded in agreement; he lifted his eyes from her lips.

“You can’t leave my sight,” He nodded, “Understand?”

Charli nodded again, almost like she was in a trance to nod and do whatever he said. “Uh-huh.”

His heart skipped a beat as he felt the sensational pulse through his blood, down into his stomach and all extremities before he let a soft, troubling few words leave through his lips.

“Good girl. Let’s go back to camp, then. I may have something for you both.”

Charli felt a pang in her chest at the way that his words were reactive to her; each detail struggling to make sense within her as they stood together for a moment before he nodded his head for her to follow him back. The walk was only ten or so minutes. It gave Charli a few moments to grasp the sobriety a bit; it was what Harry had expected before they made their way back to the tent area that still had quite a few people around.

That was the culture; that was the essence of it all. The darkness had small bits of light around to maneuver their respective campsites, laughter and partying continued far into the evening. It was only around midnight now before Harry had reached his tent. He opened the zipper, pressing into the space that he had been sharing with Jack before he invited Charli inside.

There was a lantern inside that he flicked on before he found a seat on the small mattress pad, he had laid down, but knew didn’t make too much of a difference.

“I’m only giving them to you, by the way,” Harry told her before searching through a backpack he had stored behind his pillow. “I can’t keep track of both of you. She’s also much more drunk than you, which is dangerous.”

Charli sat on Jack’s side of the tent before she watched Harry pull out a small saran-wrapped baggie that held a spoonful or so of white powder that was tied together; Charli eyed him for a moment before he dug to the bottom of his backpack before he shrugged and went back to the small bag and another bag nestled in his shorts pocket.

“This is what I’ve got—looks like a little snow, some tabs. Kind of mixed together, but that’s what I’ve got.”

Maybe it was showing the innocence in her, but Charli felt a range of curiosity mixed with nerves as she looked at what Harry was offering. His eyes searched her face as she cleared her throat, reaching for the small bag.

“Do you—I mean, you know how much to take? I just—I mean, I just want to try. But I don’t… you know more than I do.” She trailed off, which led Harry to smiling at her for a moment. He crawled over to where she sat, sitting next to her then on the small blanket and mattress pad.

“This is going to make everything bright—you’ll get the smallest dose, just enough for it to be good. It’s only good every so often, doing this stuff everyday wears off the pure adrenaline which is really the good part about it. Taking a bump makes everything better, it’s why it’s so addicting.”

Charli held the baggie, using her fingers to unwrap it before she looked back at him. “Give me a bump, then.”

In the most oddly intimate manner that he could think, he felt the tension and significant rush bend through his veins as he watched the way that her eyes followed his hands before he was able to add a bit of the chalky white powder the end of his pinky that was coated in a blue nail polish.

Harry extended his hand towards her, his pinky finger gently poised near her lips.

“Just breathe it in. You’re safe.”

She scoffed with a hint of a laugh, “I thought I was playing a dangerous game.”

Harry’s eyes felt heavy as he tried to ignore her flirtation. “Smartass.”

The proximity of his hand, with its subtle warmth, seemed to magnify the anticipation between them. Charli leaned in, her breath mingling with his, her lips brushing lightly against his finger as she inhaled the bump of coke from his fingers and feeling the effect almost immediately.

The burn, the tingle, the numbness that was in her nasal passage drove her head to loll back for a moment.

As she took in the powder, her eyes fluttered closed for a heartbeat, and then slowly opened, revealing a glimmer of surprise and pleasure. The change in her expression was subtle but unmistakable; a softening of her features, a slight arching of her brows as if discovering a new dimension of sensation.

Harry watched her intently, his gaze never wavering away from her as she studied the way that she discovered pleasure. He could see the moment the effects began to take hold—a delicate flush spreading across her cheeks, a slow, satisfied smile curving her lips. Her eyes, once wide with anticipation, now seemed to shimmer with a new, heightened awareness after several moments of silence.

“How does it feel?” he asked softly, his voice a tender caress as he leaned in closer, the space between them shrinking.

Charli’s lips parted in a slow, blissful exhale.

“It’s… like everything’s just glowing now,” she said, her voice carrying a dreamy, almost hushed quality. Her hand reached out, fingers brushing against his, and he could feel the gentle tremor of her touch, a tactile confirmation of the high she was starting to experience for the first time. “You’re really going to let me at this alone?”

Harry swallowed harshly, letting his lips part as he thought about all the reasons he shouldn’t join in her fun. But as he watched her pupils dilate, he blinked a few times to remember the way that the blue sapphires disappeared just like that in front of him.

Charli shut her eyes softly as she hummed before moving to lay on the space that held her brother’s blanket. She laid down on her back, Harry’s eyes gravitating towards the pull of her tits before they settled a bit more upwards. He leaned his arms against his legs as she sat on the ground and watched her start to feel the threat of the pleasure eat away at her.

“We should get back out there, hm?” Harry piped up, his words almost barely heard before her watched her head move up from the lolled position, opening her eyes. “You have to find Rena.”

There was a moment of silence before she sat up on her elbows, her eyes gazing at him heavily before she let her fingers draw over a part of her stomach that were visible from the shirt’s complete openness. Harry’s eyes were focused in—it had been a trap all along, he noticed as he watched her smile with complete satisfaction.

“Should we?” She questioned, “I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to leave your sight,” She paused for a moment, sitting up completely. Her body practically touching his as she let her hand move to dance along the tattoo on his skin. “And I’m all yours now.”

Harry shut his eyes as he moved his head to the other side; trying to take in any breath that didn’t have her scent lingering within it—but that was merely impossible at this point. He shifted his hips as he sat, trying his best to overcome the initial feeling of this infatuation with her. It had never been this way before.

“Fucking tease.” He swallowed heavily as he licked over his lips.

There was a noise that Harry heard, a whimper of sorts when he stayed put. He tried to keep his eyes closed, but he felt her presence heavier the longer that he sat.

“Just once? Please?” Her voice a mere whisper, but a fixture in his memory now.

“No, Charli—that’s taking advantage of you.” Harry tried once again; he couldn’t physically move, but he just had to keep saying no, no, no. One of these times, that wouldn’t be good enough for him. He knew that one of these times she asked, he would flip. He couldn’t contain himself for that long, surely not if she continued down this path.

Charli blinked slowly, she leaned her chin on his shoulder as she sat perpendicular to him, her mouth hot against his neck. “Fucking gentleman shit. Stop making me beg, Harry, it’s not nice of you. I’m really not against begging, you know?”

Harry sensed the danger in this game—his adrenaline living for this type of interaction as he practically chewed through his bottom lip. He swallowed, letting his dry throat be a reminder of how he felt in the moment. He shut his eyes softly again before he watched Charli reach for the small baggie. His eyes narrowing as she had practically memorized his movement, picking up a small amount on the nail of her pinky before looking at him with the dazed, blown eyes that were starting to hypnotize him.

“C’mon, please,” She asked again, softly, “It’ll be fun, we don’t even have to leave the tent.”

He felt himself tense at her words—knowing full well that they could do dangerous things just in this small vicinity. He would ravish her; make her cry out in pleasure so trembling that he wasn’t sure it was for his eyes, or not. Harry became quite a monster in all the best senses when his senses were heightened—he wasn’t sure that he would be able to hold himself back again.

It was one thing when it would be one-and-done; this was Charli, after all. He would never be able to stop thinking about the pleasures and soft whimpers and rushing feelings of nirvana that would overcome him with her wrapped around him.

But what would be so bad about that?

He turned his head to the left, looking at her for a moment before he put his finger up to his nose, closing a nostril before sniffing in the white powder on her nail, letting it coat his nose and every inch of his last bit of sanity. The head rush made him breathe out in a gasp before he stared up at the ceiling. The numbness in his throat, the adrenaline rush that went straight to through his limbs and into his chest.

“Fuck,” He stated clearly, letting himself sit for a moment before the high took over. Staring at her under the influence became a greater, much more euphoric feat as he turned to see Charli smiling at him with a face of triumph.

The world outside the tent seemed to fade into a distant hum as Harry and Charli sat cross-legged on the crumpled blankets. The warm buzz of the coke coursed through Harry's veins, amplifying every sensation, every sound, every breath Charli took in the small area. The tent was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lantern they’d placed at the entrance. It cast a golden hue over Charli’s face, making her skin look impossibly smooth, her eyes dark and endless as her dark curls laid around her face.

Charli leaned back on her elbows, her gaze fixed on Harry with a mix of amusement and something else he couldn’t quite place. She bit her lip, a small, almost absent-minded gesture that sent a jolt through Harry's chest. He was hyper-aware of everything—of the way her top had slipped slightly off one shoulder of how her breath was just a little unsteady, matching his own.

“This stuff’s intense,” Charli murmured, her voice soft but carrying a weight that made Harry’s pulse quicken.

“Yeah, it really is,” he replied, his voice sounding rough to his own ears. His eyes flicked down to her lips, then back to her eyes. The air between them felt charged, thick with anticipation and a tension that couldn’t be fooled.

A slow smile spread across Charli’s face, and she tilted her head, studying him like she was seeing him for the first time. “You’re different here, you know that?” she said, her voice low and teasing. “Not the same Harry I see with Jack.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, but it may have been the mixture of substances. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Charli shrugged, her smile deepening. “You’re… less shy. More fun.”

Harry laughed softly, the sound coming out shaky. “I guess this place brings it out of me.”

Charli’s smile faltered for just a moment, her eyes searching his. “Or maybe it’s just us,” she said quietly. “In this world.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged, and Harry felt a thrill run through him. Charli sat up slowly, closing the space between them until he could feel the heat radiating from her body. Her knee brushed against his thigh, and it was like an electric shock. He was suddenly hyper-aware of how close she was, how he could smell the faint traces of her perfume, mixed with the sharp scent of sweat and something sweet.

“I’ve always liked that about you,” Charli said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “How you’re different. How you make me feel different. You’ve always been so nice to me, you know? So… pleasing.”

Harry swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “Charli…”

She didn’t let him finish. Instead, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek, sending a shiver down his spine. Her touch was light, almost tentative, but it was enough to break the dam.

In one swift motion, Charli leaned in, her lips capturing his in a kiss that was both fierce and hungry. Harry’s mind went blank, every thought drowned out by the sensation of her mouth on his, the taste of her, the feel of her body pressing against his. He responded instinctively, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, grew more frantic. It was a deepened state of mind that brought him back to reality as he pulled away for a moment to breathe and regroup his thoughts.

Harry grabbed the bandana around his neck, pulling it off before he moved to the front of the tent. Charli’s eyes narrowed as she watched him begin to leave, her mind not meeting her words that she wanted to speak out. Instead, she watched as he wrapped the bandana around the zipper of the tent, letting it hand off the outside before he zipped it up fully.

“So Jack knows I’m in here with someone,” He told her, “Our secret, though, yeah? You and me?”

Charli nodded a few times before they had reattached to one another again. Harry reached out to grab the back of her head, pulling her lips to him in a quick, rushing moment. They were pressed to each other, the messy top lip kiss elated a whimper from Charli before she sat up on her knees, pushing back against Harry to try and get him to lay down so that she could take the control she craved.

He resisted, letting his hand grab at her waist before letting her climb into his lap as a fair compromise. Her arms wrapped around his neck, hair falling over their kiss as she allowed her tongue to travel over his plumped bottom lip. It was a feeling greater than pleasure; one of great heights that she would never be able to pinpoint except in this moment.

“You’re a needy little minx, aren’t you?” Harry grabbed onto her waist, the bares skin only being covered by the string that held her top up. “Coming onto your brother’s friend, such a needy, sly little fox. Wouldn’t have ever thought it.”

His hands felt the small of her back before she pulled back to get a glimpse of the way that his eyes dilated to the largest, dark circles of abyss, staring at her with a want so great that she wasn’t sure she’d ever find again.

She didn’t know which substance was talking but she seemingly found either to be mesmerizing.

“God,” She breathed out, pushing his hair back—his head pushing back as she kissed along the base of his neck. Her hips pressed into his, pushing up on his stomach as she pressed against the length of his body. “Wasn’t going to fuck just anyone this weekend, you know,” She breathed, “Love getting what I want.”

Harry scoffed at her answer, pulling her back before he let her hands rest against his shoulders. His eyes flew down to the way that her top dropped in the front. His hands reached behind her to grab the tie, pulling at it hastily before the top practically fell apart in his hands. The way that his eyes glided over her perfectly settled tits was mesmerizing; her left one holding a small, silver piercing that caught his attention like a hawk.

As she sat in his lip, her chest at eye level, Harry stared up at her for a moment before she squirmed in anticipation. Harry licked his lips softly before spitting gently onto her hardened nipple, watching as the dribble slid down the curve of her skin. Her heart practically stopped at the stalemate interaction, waiting for him to touch her.

The heaviness of her breath took his breath away— watching her chest inflate, deflate, settle. His cock hardened underneath her, her hips moving and feeling the reaction before a bit of surprise crossed her face.

“You’ve gotten me worked up all weekend, you know that?” He told her roughly, his throat hoarse but telling her simply, “Not going to go lightly on you—I’m going to fuck you into oblivion, and you’re going to take every inch, every moment, every word of it. You understand me?”

His thumb reached out to rub over the darkened, hard nipple that had sat untouched. Her reaction was visceral. The heat of the tent was starting to get to her already but couldn’t breathe at the thought of what was to come.

“Mhm,” She nodded, curtly, “Yes, sir—fuck, yes, please.”

The nickname sparked an electricity below his belt before he pushed her from him and onto the small, padded area of the tent that he had been sleeping on. Her world flipped as she stared now at the ceiling; the small light of the lantern by the door was the only amount of light. His hips pushed into hers as they melted into one another.

It didn’t take him anytime at all before he pulled down the shorts that sat on her body—they weren’t covering much, but they were enough of a barrier. The boots she had been wearing came too. His eyes drifted to the jet-black thong that covered little to nothing. The growl in his chest reverberated before he leaned up to kiss her again— messy, the way that his mustache tickled her lip was a certain kind of pain.

She wasn’t sure what was his needs and what was the drugs that were heightening every inch of her sense. She felt her body trembling, Harry watched as she shivered, her teeth chattering for a moment before he nodded as if to speak to her without a single word.

“You’ve got it all pent up,” He nodded at her, confirming her want and needs, “It’s going to fucking snap—you’re going to feel like you’re looking at yourself from up above, like you’re levitating almost,” He licked his lips, “I’m going to talk you through it though, don’t you worry.”

His hands moved to her hips, pulling them up as he played with the edges of the small thong that barely created space between them. Harry pulled himself up to leave a few more kisses on her mouth, notably feeling the want and need of her tongue pressing past his lips for more intensity—more feeling as she responded to his touch.

“Do you hear that?” She asked him, breaking their touch and kiss as he stared down at her for a moment. His eyes heavy on hers as she stared at him with a million sparkles in her eyes—the sparkling dust filling around her orbiting pupils.

“The music?” He asked, unsure. But when he watched her shake her head, he narrowed his eyebrows.

“That sound—it’s a buzzing, it’s uh, it’s like, it’s rushing—the ocean,” She shook her head, shutting her eyes. “It’s—”

Harry lifted his hand brushing her cheek softly before he looked between her eyes. Licking his lips, he nodded in acknowledgment.

“That’s the blood in your veins you’re hearing. Sounds like the rushing of water, every time your heart beats.” He explained, as if it was logical.

Charli took in a breath, “It’s addicting—that sound.”

Harry let his hand drift further down, down, down. Stopping at the small string of her thong, pulling at it.

“Let me make the sound louder, hm?” He sat up just a bit, giving him room to pull the underwear down her legs. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he watched them turn menacing, the devilish pleasure kingdom heating between her thighs.

It took everything in him not to drop his eyes—he’d never get the sight out of his memory once he did. Her laying there in complete submission to him—wanting his touch more than the security of never doing anything about it.

Her knees bent upwards, her hand resting on her stomach before she teased the idea of going further on her own. His eyes flickered, catching sight before he breathed outwards. The world turned upside down, eating away at him as pulled at the cotton tee that rested on his back, letting the clothes make a puddle next to them.

“You going to show me how you like it, then?” He teased, letting his lips settle between her breasts, giving a small kiss before moving down a few inches. The kisses were hard, pulling at her skin the way he knew she wanted.

“I’ve never felt like this,” She told him honestly, arching her back.

“Need me, then, do you?” He asks, sitting up a bit before kissing the top of her knee. His hand ran itself down the length of her torso, watching every movement of it. It was like a trail, a road. Every divot, every freckle, every small wrinkle of her skin.

“So bad.” She gasped out before he let his fingers move down her body further. The moment he touched her, they both gasped at the undeniable feeling of longing—the collection of wetness that coated his fingers, the warmth of her being.

Harry watched every moment, every movement. His lips parted, watching as she quickly settled, finding her grounding once he pressed one finger deep into her. The way that she opened for him wasn’t a coincidence; she had been waiting for this moment for so long, he could feel every inch of her holding onto his soul.

“God, more,” She begged, her hands moved into her hair as she arched into the feeling. “More—fuck.”

In that moment, he felt like an other-worldly being, giving her everything that she could have asked for. Anything he did would pleasure her; it was a superiority that couldn’t believe he had in his touch, but he smirked at her desperation.

“More?” He confirmed, letting his middle finger slide in right in place, before he curved them, “Like that?”

A mewl left between her lips as she huffed a breath. It was a bit loud; he could process that as soon as it happened, the noise going straight below his shorts before he leapt up to grip at her chin.

“Shh,” He told her, “Knew you’d be loud, but we gotta’ keep it to us, hm? Just right here.” His mouth leaned down, hot breath along her lips as he held his arm up right next to her head.

Charli felt like her body had melted onto the floor and completely dispersed in a million directions. The lightness that she felt, the warmth that her body harbored while still having a chill to her skin. Each movement, each touch, each breath—it came into her mind like the brightest sunshine.

His fingers moved in a synchronization with her heartbeat as she felt the easiness that came with pleasing her. He pressed on her lower abdomen when he pressed in, which elicit her back to arch against the ground. It was a rapid movement, but more of a flick to his wrist like a painter would say practice makes perfect.

Harry’s eyes moved down to the perfectly pink tone of her clit, aching and drenched with pleasure as he let his thumb rub over it. Her own wetness creating the perfect glide of his fingers as he bit back at the filth of his thoughts. He had so much to say and would hold it back from scaring her off.

The soft whimper of her created a symphony between them; one rock of her hips too many would set him off, he was certain.

“Don’t be scared of it, c’mon,” He pushed his fingers in to the knuckle, letting them beckon with the motion, letting them sit for a moment before his thumb rubbed over her swollen clit—the blood rushing through her system as he nodded at her. “You can fucking do it, Char, fucking soak me, huh?”

Her back arched in anticipation of the rush, pressing her hips into his touch further as the overwhelming and unjustifiable sense of pleasure carried her upwards into the heavens. The sound she made was sinful, the way that her eyes rolled back. Every inch of the detail was harbored by the darkness around them, but Harry felt that he could see through it—watching it as brightly as he could.

There was a small gush of her orgasm that made her body shiver with adrenaline as it soaked her inner thighs, the muscles in her legs contracting and shaking as she pulled them together. She breathed out a whimpered moan before grabbing onto his forearm to elicit the message that she was simply overworked by the feeling.

Harry breathed heavily, watching her wrecked laying in the middle of the bed he had made—simply lying in it. Her chest pulsed upwards as she had her eyes shut; he knew, even in his high, that he needed to give her a minute before they imploded. He didn’t want to make her heart rate skyrocket, so he settled on giving himself the pleasure of bringing his fingers towards his lips, letting his tongue dance over the wetness of them.

“So, so fucking delicious.” He stated under his breathe, watching as she writhed under him. Her eyes now wide open, watching him taste her on his fingers as she mewls with need. It’s filthy—it’s nothing she’s ever witnessed; a man devouring a woman in this way. She knew it would be like this with him, which turned her on more than she could imagine.

“Going to wet my cock like that too, hm?” He asked, coaxing her. “Going to prove yourself to me?”

Her face was flushed, her lips parted as she tried to catch her breath. It took him a moment, the words leaving his lips were enough to push her over the edge once again. He pressed his hands into her hips to steady her, giving her a sense of grounding. His high made his head dizzy with greed; his thoughts danced with a flourishing wave of desire.

“You have to stay with me, Charli,” He told her gently, “Let me hear your pretty words. You want me?”

Charli had tears in her eyes, a push of absolute certainty flooded through her as she sat up in a haste to let her hands move through his hair. Her lips found his again, letting her taste herself against his lips—his tongue was warm with her.

“Mm, those aren’t words,” He murmured against her. “But I’ll take it as a yes.”

“I’m just speechless,” She giggled out, “Sorry.”

It was chaos; the mascara smudged on her bottom lash line that created a darkened effect. It was revelry; the waning moon of her pupils as they settled back into a faded darkness.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” Harry echoed out his thoughts into the air as he let his thumb press into her bottom lip. He grabbed onto it, letting her smirk take over as she only harbored the horniness further from the way he degraded and lifted her in such bliss. “So, so fucking pretty. Could wreck every inch of your pretty cunt.”

“Let me play the game,” Her voice shrouded innocence, letting her hair fall into her face before he pushed it back. Her mind was running a million miles a minute, but her movements were slow, her erraticism and need for him ate away at her.

In an instant, she was pushing at his chest, moving him back so that he could rest on his hands. She wanted to pull on his shorts, let them both then lay together. The sweat that had sheened over their bodies both had created a humidity within the tent as they continued to find air to breathe, focusing on themselves.

Charli’s hands had pulled the shorts down his hips, practically not even giving attention to the stiff cock that laid against him—ready for her at any moment. Their lips intertwined again; he had missed the sweetness, knowing that it was such a part of their collective. She sighed against him, loving the feeling of his facial hair against her skin—the rough pleasure of it.

Harry laid, his back arching from the hardness of the ground, his hands on her hips as she moved to straddle him. Charli placed her shaking hand around his length, pumping him a few times, eyeing it for a moment before the sensual want of her eyes caught his. Harry bit his lip at the way that she looked; her disguise of innocence was just that.

Her head leaned down, a gentle lick under the head of his cock just to set his skin ablaze. Her eyes matched his, the eye contact far too superior. His eyes watched the hunger that captivated her, each moment longer than the next as she rested her weight on his chest before she lifted herself to sink down onto him instead.

The control he didn’t have was obvious now; he gripped onto the flesh of her hips, jaw tight. His eyes shut as he tried to come to terms with the already built feeling that settled within him. It had built up to an indecent amount, and his mind was blurring with thoughts that continue to poke and prod.

It was quick—an instant, really. No thoughts, no inhibitions, just surrender and want.

“God, fuck,” He cursed, letting her settle as her torso seemed to go for miles, he looked up. “You’re so fucking wet. Christ.”

Charli lolled her head back at the feeling of him, her hips moving back and forth just to grab onto the tension that was building. Her hair fell onto her back as she let out a breath, her hands resting on his chest to hold herself up as Harry watched her practically rub herself onto him.

His eyes wandered up her chest, watching as she arched her back to pull herself towards him. Harry’s hands landed on her ass, spreading her apart as he bucked his hips into her, his length poking in and out of her enough to create a guttural response in the back of her throat.

Harry lifted his fingers to grab at the back of her neck, pulling her head forward. His thumb pressed gently into her lips as they pouted outwards, letting his fingers coat themselves in the wetness of her bottom lip. Their hips rocked together; he grabbed her ass, pulling her upwards before he slammed his hips into her.

It was fun—it was one of the most diabolical moments he could remember, considering he knew that they could be caught at any moment in the most compromising of positions. He bit his lip to stifle the smile that pushed on his face as Charli looked down towards him, biting her own lip with ease.

“You are such fucking trouble,” Harry’s tongue was hot all the sudden, “Going to be the end of me.”

Charli hummed, laying forward to let her lips crash against Harry’s once against, a sea of teeth and scrapes as she let her nose rest against his for a moment.

“Been trying to tell you for years,” She breathed out while keeping their rocking motion of thrusts, their in-sync motions letting her breath heighten, “Too stubborn.”

“Bullshit,” Harry moved her hips against him, looking up at her, “You haven’t shown a bit of interest in me.”

Charli threw her hair to the other side of her head, letting her lips move down to the base of Harry’s jaw to suck gently—he lifted his head a bit to let her work.

“You’re clueless, then,” She chuckled under her breath, “I always wanted you to be my first kiss, you know. I had the biggest crush on you.”

The slight ping of vulnerability that hits the air lets Harry’s eyes flicker back to her; his hands roaming the fleshiness of her hips, fingernails scraping against her skin, details of her touch were kept in his mind.

“Had?”

They seem to be the only words that Harry can muster out before he watches her blush, pulling her head down into his neck as they both moan in unison from the way that she pulls up, moving down a bit more forcefully.

“Shit, you can’t keep doing that—” Harry starts to warn before she does it again, eliciting a reaction as he holds onto her waist so she can’t move any further. Charli can’t help it though, she’s pushing herself back at the feeling, knowing the one that she’s chasing is enough to give herself another orgasm.

She pushes back again a few more times—Harry’s inhibitions and self-control have formally flung out of the air; he’s never felt more obliterated and unwell. Focusing on her for a moment, he shakes his head as he recognizes that he’s not at all in the right headspace. The powder usually calms him and gives him more self-control, but something about this feels different.

Something about her.

“Fuck, fuck—I’m gonna,” He pulled her hips up, lifting her from him before ribbons of cum were left on her lower tummy and thigh, and his stomach as he held his length to finish himself off. “Fuck.”

It was a senseless act, knowing that their response time had already been stunted from the high that they were on top of the world with. His muscles contracted heavily, watching as she held herself up, straddling his lap around the mess that coated both. It’s a moment of silence, a bit of regret at the now messy situation that has them both sitting for a moment with shaky breaths and uncontrollable heart rates.

“Oh, god,” He breaths, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

His eyes feel like they’re moving a mile a minute, trying to settle as they look at Charli on top of him. She’s bent over now, laying on top of him with their chests intertwined.

“Let me,” He offers, pushing her up a bit. He grabs the shirt he had been wearing, wiping it along himself, and her.

A few passes with the fabric, he throws it to the other side of the tent. At this point, his body feels like it’s become quite exhausted—it may have been dehydration, it may have been the high that had been wearing off. Harry licks over his lips as he feels Charli move from his body and down to his side. His arm reaches to grab the blanket that they had both been laying on top of, now moving it over their bodies as he felt her shivering next to him.

The high had been wearing off; her eyes shut and heavy as she laid on her side away from him. Her body tangled itself into the blankets, forming a cocoon of sorts to lay comfortably against him.

“Stay?” Her words were almost a question; one that he wasn’t sure was for him, or a confirmation from her that she would be. Instead, he pulled the blanket up to her shoulders, shielding her body that was out in the open. His breath inhaled her scent, nose nudging at her shoulder before he nodded.

“Stay.” He confirmed.

Harry clenched his jaw as he shut his eyes; the sleep that was impending came sooner than expected for the both of them.

When Harry opened his eyes next, the light from the tent had been bursting in. The heat of the fabric had given his skin a sheen of sweat as he pulled the blanket from his chest. The way that his head pounded was a stark recollection of the previous night and the person he had wished most to see when he turned over.

But the space next to him was empty—the tent was empty.

He sat up, horrified by the way that he felt—knowing that he shouldn’t have participated in the coke with Charli, but knowing that what came out of it was stuck in his memory for the rest of his life. He wondered if she regret it; walking away from him without waking up next to him felt like something someone with regret would do.

Harry pulled his shorts on, as he hadn’t redressed the night prior. Crawling towards the zipped-up door, he opened it, finding himself squinting at the bright lights that had been trying to make their way through the fabric of the tent.

The pavilion was covered, and the familiar voices spoke outwardly with familiarity.

“Well, look who it is.” Jack’s words echoed out as Harry approached the small circle then. The small circle was the two people that he had not wanted to explicitly talk to right away. “Crazy night, huh? Couldn’t even come back to my tent, you must’ve been going all night. Lucky lady.”

He noticed Charli sitting there, her legs pulled up to her chest, wearing a large t-shirt and shorts that were most definitely men’s boxers. He swallowed hard, not wanting to take a closer look but being almost completely certain that they were his.

Their eyes met for a moment; Charli lifted her hand to bite the skin around her thumb to keep herself from asserting any type of notion that either of them had a clue about what Jack had been talking about.

Instead, Harry nodded simply.

“Yeah, something like that.” His pulse threatened to burst at the thought of her; at the thought of them. “Yeah—I, uh, think that’s the first time that won’t be a one-time thing.”

Charli’s interest piqued, her eyes focusing on him for a moment before Jack hit his shoulder, chuckling out softly before he shook his head.

“She must’ve stolen your heart for you to say something like that.” Jack exclaimed, taking a bite of his breakfast, offering Harry a plate before he took it willingly. Charli, sitting there trying to mind her own had a simple smile on her face, trying her best to not give away any details of the previous night.

But her mind took her back to falling asleep next to him; the quiet snores, the softness of his skin, the warmth of his embrace. She tucked some hair that had been falling out of her ponytail, biting her lip as she sniffled softly.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded a few times, the smile encapsulating his face, “Something like that.”

[ikinremu]

i have a feeling tommy’s so talented in bed he can make girls squirt… maybe a fix about that!! please and thank you!

Hi anon!! Thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy <3

Messy

Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

! Smut warning !

—> drabble <—

Tags: fingering, oral (f receiving), squirtin, praise

“Tommy-“ You mumbled as his head hovered between your thighs, spread gently by his large, splayed hands, veins running prominently under his skin.

“Trust me, love.” He smirked, eyes flickering briefly over your own, the heat of his breath brushing over your exposed cunt - sopping with anticipation. “You can do that, eh?”

You certainly were capable of that, trusting his touch was no issue. You gave a clear nod of confirmation, thighs twitching beneath the possessive grip of Tommy’s fingers, spreading you apart for his taking.

“Such a sweet fuckin’ cunt, isn’t that right?” He groaned out the words, raising a single, tame brow expectantly as his mouth lingered a mere inch from where he knew you needed him most, “Just begging for me, isn’t it?”

Your fingers found securely into the chair beneath you - the very same chair Tommy worked upon everyday, pinned behind his desk. Though today was different, he simply had to have you exactly where you were. And you certainly hadn’t a thing to complain about.

His tongue swept against your soaked folds, stroking slowly upward, eyes set entirely on you. Instinctually, your back formed a soft arch, pushing your trembling hips against his tongue, drawing a chuckle from his lips.

“I know,” He spoke lowly, “Be patient for me.” He instructed, blatantly amused by the manner in which you pulsed against his tongue, “Let me take my time with this sweet little cunt of yours, mm?”

The taunt shot a shiver down your spine, only fuelling your arousal with the gravelly tone he spoke in. You didn’t quite know if you could be patient; not if it meant being unable to touch him for much longer.

Tommy swept his tongue in small, supple circles round your clit, purposefully teasing as he flicked the tip against the swollen nerve, groaning at the mere taste of you on his lips. It was as though he completely lost himself in your taste everytime his head was buried between your legs, tongue thrusting in and out of your bare, drenched pussy.

“Give it to me, good fucking girl.” He uttered, muffled by the warmth of your cunt, snaking his palms over your ass, the silk of your skirt tickling his knuckles as he squeezed possessively beneath.

Your thighs shook a little against his jaw, struggling to maintain steadiness as his lips suckled softly at your clit, making you writhe in pleasure against his desk chair.

Your thighs twitched around his face as his lips suckled softly at your clit, making you writhe against his desk chair.

“Oh my- Fuck-“

Tommy was perfectly aware of the effect he had on you; he knew what he was doing and he absolutely knew he was good at it. It didn’t matter how ever many times you two were together like this, he’d always have you ruined by the end. Like a cycle - one you didn’t wish to end.

His two thick, skilful fingers pressed together, tracing your pussy in time with his tongue, pushing slowly inside the sopping heat.

“Get them wet for me, that’s right.” He encouraged, the lustful words coming out amidst a heavy groan, feeling you soak his fingertips.

A rather loud, breathy sound escaped your throat as they entered.

He thrust his tongue over your clit so very flawlessly, beginning - only gradually - to pump his fingers inside you, curling against your most sensitive spots at a teasing rate.

You allowed your head to drift back a little, eyelids fluttering like blinds over your vision as his smirk brushed your thighs. His tongue further stimulated your clit, drawn between his wet, pillowy lips occasionally as he quickened the pace of his fingers, stroking them over your g-spot.

“There- Fuck, right there..” You mumbled, nodding desperately, harshly gripping the chair as Tommy directed his focus to the very spot you desired.

You clenched hungrily around him, squeezing his fingers tightly, never quite able to resist seeking more.

The pressure of his fingers combined with the utter pace of his tongue was driving you completely insane, making your chest rise and fall at a shallow pace. His hand, warmed and slick by your skin, caressed the curve of your ass eagerly - as if claiming it as strictly his own.

A familiar sensation possessed your stomach, winding like a tight coil as Tommy worked tirelessly against you, the feeling of a release heating within your abdomen.

“Do you feel that, sweetheart?” He muttered against you, fully conscious of the answer, “You love the way I make you feel, hm?”

It was insatiable.

You nodded, a gentle whine fleeing your mouth as your hips bucked hungrily against the pleasure he provided. A breathy sound followed as you felt yourself near the very brink of your orgasm.

He maintained the pace of both his mouth and fingers, endlessly driven by the feeling of you trembling against him, clenching mercilessly around his thrusting fingers.

Suddenly, your orgasm struck, and he showed no intention of halting, fucking you through the intense wave of your release, fingers curling repeatedly against your g-spot. You let out a particularly loud moan, and without a morsel of warning, your arousal coated his tongue, shooting against his mouth as it sprayed down your thighs.

Your eyes couldn’t resist but widen, a gasp slipping your tongue as the colourless release covered his tongue, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tasted you.

“Fuck, come on my fuckin’ tongue, love, that’s right. Feel it.” He encouraged as your breathing grew far heavier, “Let go for me.”

In utter disbelief, you allowed yourself to melt into the feeling, arousal trickling down your thighs, practically soaking your skin - it was unlike anything you’d felt before.

Tommy knew the feeling was fresh, entirely new to your senses, and he only devoured the taste more.

“Oh my- Tommy..” You whimpered as you came down from the feeling, warm skin dripping with your own release. “I’ve never-“

Tommy pressed his open mouth to your upper thigh, hot and slick, trailing his tongue over you, soaking up the taste. You failed miserably to steady your breath, watching his eyes burn a path to your own as he ran his thumb over your sensitive flesh.

“Just look at that.” He taunted, vacant hand utilising itself by cradling the back of your neck, thumb pressing against it as he soothed you, “Shame, all over my desk chair.” He chuckled. “Made a pretty fuckin’ mess of yourself there, eh sweetheart?”

You truly had, and it was blatantly obvious Tommy was overly pleased by the event, satisfaction painting his lips as he studied your marvelling expression, “Let’s clean you up.”

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! I’m working through a lot of requests so thank you for your patience if you’ve sent one in <3

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

adjustment*

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, slight pussy slapping, choking, praise, creampie

summary: in which yn has an attitude and harry fixes it for her

pairing: fiancé harry x reader

blog navigation | masterlist | taglist

~

harry cuts his eyes to yn for what seems like the thousandth time in the past hour, his teeth grinding together as he tries to keep his composure. he ignores the huffs and puffs from her again, and when she realizes that he won’t be giving into her games anytime soon, she huffs once more before pushing herself up off the couch and heads to the kitchen for a glass of water.

a deep scowl is prominent on her face as she stomps to the cabinets and snatches a glass out, slamming the door once she has the glass securely in her grip. more stomps can be heard as she moves to the fridge, pressing the glass against the water dispenser, chugging it where she stands.

she steps over and places the glass on the counter next to the fridge before turning around to head back out to the living room, but a surprised yelp falls from her lips as she turns around to face harry…less than 3 feet away from her. in the time that she takes to recognize his presence, he closes the distance between them with a single stride and his hand comes up to wrap around her throat, all in one smooth motion.

harry uses the grip on her to press her against the fridge, making yn’s heart race and her eyes flutter shut at both the cool feel of the appliance behind her and the shock of the situation at hand. she knows that if she opens her eyes, she will no doubt see harry with a deep furrow in his eyebrows and a scowl on his face, but she doesn’t have the courage to take a peek.

the two of them stay just like that for a while, harry’s eyes trailing over her face as he calms himself down. ‘open your eyes,” he demands, humming in satisfaction when yn’s eyes flutter open. “so you can listen. good,” he acknowledges.

harry knows her like the back of his hand after being together for 6 years, so it’s no shock to him when he hikes up her oversized t shirt and presses one of his legs between hers to spread them open for him before reaching down and feeling the slick coating her already ruined panties.

“ah, that’s it, hm? that’s what you needed?” he coos, the condescending undertone to his words only wrecking both her mind and her panties further. using his free hand once more, he pulls the ruined material to the side before speaking again. “needed me to be little rough, a proper slut f’me,” he hums. the tight grip he has on her throat as well as his ghosting touch over her folds are making her dizzy, and when he finally slides a ringed finger through her mess, she can’t help it when her knees buckle just a bit.

harry just chuckles at how desperate and gone she is for him, his breath fanning over her face and causing her to let her head fall back, her eyes fluttering closed all over again. the same finger that’s found a home between her swollen folds moves up higher until the tip is pressed tightly against her throbbing clit, pulling a broken moan from her.

he lets out a chest-deep hum at the sound and rubs right over the throbbing head of her clit, continuing that same motion until she’s so close that her legs are shaking and just stops. a pathetic whine leaves her lips at his cruelty, but he just moved his hand to land a sharp smack right onto where she’s throbbing for him. the pleasure riddled pain brings a wave of desperate tears to her eyes, already knowing that he deprived her for simply choosing not to ask for permission to cum.

harry’s heart melts just at the sight of the tears, a pout forming on his lips before he removes his hand from her neck and pushes his sweats down to kick them off. yn simply watches in anticipation, waiting for his next move. she expects them to head to the bedroom or even for him to place her on the counter. but no, when his leaking cock is finally free from the confines of his pants, he just grips her shoulders to turn her around to face the fridge, pressing down on her upper back just a bit to bend her over for easier access.

he grips the base of himself with his other hand, and with a slight bend of his knees and a quick run of his head through her messy folds, he’s sheathed inside of her pressing in until their hips meet. the smooth thrust nearly knocks the wind from her, her hands flailing to find something to grip onto. her face is pressed against the cool steel before her, hands holding onto the door handles.

“fuckin’ hell,” her fiancé groans from behind her, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he tries to hold himself back. not only for him, but for her as well. he needs this to last for her, even though she’s been a brat all day. yn, living up to that expectation once again, has a growing smirk on her face as she presses her ass back against him teasingly, intentionally fluttering her velvety walls around his already throbbing cock.

a throaty moan bubbles in his chest and he squeezes his eyes shut, gathering his bearings quickly. once he’s sure he can move again, he removes one hand from her hips and reaches up to grab her throat once again, catching her off guard as he pulls her toward him until she has a deep arch in her back and her back is pressed to his chest.

wasting no more time, he pulls out of her until his leaky tip is resting right at her entrance before slamming back in, forcing a loud moan from his fianceè. he repeats the action over and over, going slowly until he physically can’t take it anymore, speeding up his bruising thrusts to chase the both of their orgasms. “there we go, mama,” he grunts in between thrusts, speaking over the sounds of her broken moans as she takes everything he gives her. “takin’ me so well, all i could ever ask for. always give you what you need, don’t even have t’ask,” he admits. he knows just what praise does to her, and when he finishes his sentiment off with a line of kisses down the side of her neck, that’s all it takes for her orgasm to peak.

her orgasm causes her fluttering channel to tighten around him almost unbearably, her jaw slack as he continues to fuck into her in order to work her through the orgasm. harry starts to feel a slight drip at the base of his cock, and looks down to see his cock coated in a layer of her cream as she lets out every ounce of tension she’d been holding in. “son of a bitch, you’re creaming on my cock,” he says, a whiny undertone to his words as he feels the beginning of his own orgasm building quickly in his belly.

all it takes is two more deep thrusts into her creamy walls and he’s pressing his hips to hers as he fills her with his warm cum, his cock twitching almost painfully as he empties himself into her.

~

heyyyyy guys. uhhh it’s been a min😅😅

pls remember that this is my first piece back and take it easy on me LOL. this was hardddd omg. but i missed you guys smmmmmm😚🤍

also sorry it’s short, i’m taking baby steps back into this businessssss

[doumadono]

(Since you wanted me here so much! HERE I AM BESTIE!)

🍑For Sinful Sunday🍆

I am thinking about Hawks and well... he is a bird yeah?

So how about Hawks going into his spring season??? Him being all nice and sweet, giving his s/o little gifts, him LITERALLY building a nest... ONLY TO FUCK IN THERE FOR DAYS! Until his pretty mate is tired and full of seed to the point it's leaking out. Of cours it's not like he is done just yet 😏😏😏

(Hoenstly... idk what I am doing here! Love you gurl!)

SINFUL SUNDAY

Spring was the mating season for birds, and you could likely guess how it affected Keigo. During this time, he constantly felt a fiery heat, and his sexual desire became noticeably heightened.

"It's spring," he moaned. His hips surged forward, making you gasp around his thick shaft, his reddened tip hit the back of your throat again as you were giving him the head.

Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes as he began slamming his cock down your throat, his pace rough and rapid, almost primal.

Did he mean it was mating season? You had indeed observed other avian-like traits in him lately — those little trinkets he proudly displayed on his desk at work, the absent-minded whistling as he strolled through the office. Yet, you never thought mating season could be among them!

His words tumbled out hastily, almost strained, as if forming complete sentences was far beyond him. His rut had utterly consumed him. “Fuck, gonna cum soon.” His pace quickened as his entire length was being forced down your tight throat. His wings trembled and unfolded as he cum into your mouth.

The instant his taste met your tongue, an involuntary moan escaped you.

"Fuck, dove. I need you, right now," he growled, his lips brushing against yours as he helped you up to your feet. His hand ventured between you, shifting your underwear aside as two fingers delved into your dripping warmth. Another guttural growl escaped his lips. "Oh, fuck, I gotta fuck you. So incredibly wet," he murmured, pushing you down on the bed that looked rather like a huge nest with all those pillows and blankets, his hand wrapping around his aching cock, pumping it several times, gliding it between your slick folds to immerse it in your intoxicating wetness shortly after. Hawks aligned himself with your entrance, impelling himself entirely inside you with one fluid motion. Your gasp of pleasure was truly a music to his ears. He began pounding into you relentlessly, filling the air with an unmistakably lewd and wet squelching sounds. "Oh, oh, fuck!" He clung to your hips with an intensity that hinted at marks to come, and his fervent kisses trailed from your cheek down to the pulse point on your neck, each one growing increasingly passionate and sloppy. "You belong to me," he panted, his thrusts becoming increasingly sloppy. "All mine," his voice, drenched in overwhelming desire, reverberated with a deep, primal hunger.

Your cunt clinched against him as your head lolled back on the pile of pillows.

Hawks deftly angled his hips, hitting that spongy, sensitive spot deep within you, and in an instant, your climax devoured you. Your walls clenched tightly around his throbbing dick, creating a frothy white ring at the base. "Oh, Keigo, yes!"

This was sufficient to push him over the brink too. His hips spasmed against yours as he released his hot semen deep within you. "Ah, fuck! My sexy baby bird," Hawks grunted, laying on top of you. "Took all of my seed so well. Hope you'll get round with my offspring soon."

[fleuraimer]

requestin a lil… nsfw alphabet with carmy berzatto (au or not is up to u!) bc i am GONE GONE GONE for this guy and the way you write him - 🍓nonnie <33

BERRY GET OUT OF MY HEAD I WAS JS THINKING ABT MAKING ONE OF THESEEEEE

tw!! nsfw alphabet. this shit finna get filthy y'all 😝. buckle up!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

ok i think boxer!carmy is the type to wanna hold his cub after sex for literally as long as possible like. arms still wrapped around her waist even after she's come down from that fuzzy, floaty headspace he sends her to, fingers tickling the flesh of her forearms, supple thighs, her bruised up, heaving chest, her sagged shoulder, or curled up in her mussed hair, scratching gently at her sweaty scalp. when he goes supa hard on his girl i can see him being extra attentive (like he's always there when she needs him but he refuses to leave her side when he's been rougher than usual—carries her everywhere like a small child, hand feeds her foods, keeps her off her feet more than her had when he had her on her damn back). he's always asking if she needs anything from him or if she's feeling good or if he'd been too rough with her anywhere—just very sweet and kinda anxious to make her as comfortable as fucking humanly possibly because he's just so thankful for her and fucking grateful that she fits to him—molds to his whims—so perfectly :((

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

ASSSSS!!!! like carmen berzatto loves his cub and could spend hours trying to find the words to describe her ethereal beauty but this man is a SUCKER for her pretty ass :)). he definitely pretends to hit it from the back any and every fucking time she's bent over; he's holding her there when she's in his lap, stood beside him, tucked into his side, embraced in his burly biceps—hugging his big body, her little hands grasping at the broad of his back with his massive paws pressed into the fat of her ass :(((. he likes to lay his head on it when he finds her laying on her stomach across the bed, scrolling mindlessly through her phone or reading a book or stetching in her notebook. other times he come in and eye her there from the doorframe for a minute, head titled curiously, and then come up behind her—quiet enough that she usually doesn't notice—and issue a sure smack to her teasing bottom. carmy just loves to grab it, smack it, lick it, bite it, kiss it; and she makes it damn hard not to with those tight and tiny clothes she insists on wearin' all the time—not that he's really fuckin' complaining. he just loves cub's ass :)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

i think carmy doesn't really care where he comes as long as it's on or in his cub. like obviously he loves spilling into her sweet cunt, or down her tight throat, but he's also obsessed with rubbing himself into her skin—printing, marking—coming hard over her soft tummy, or her arched back; her bite ridden, spit-slicked breasts, or her hand-printed, irritated ass, and massaging his essence into her flesh... idk it makes him dizzy and gets his cock stirring equally as fast as watching his cum drip from her ruined pussy or her throat bob as she swallows a load she's just given him does. hard decisions :((

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

well this secret has been revealed already but bear loves cub's pretty pink toes :)) she's usually always wearing heals—a personal preference—so he lovessss when she comes home after a long day and makes him unbuckle and/or slip her shoes off and give her a foot rub. flops down on the bed or couch and tugs her legs over his lap, leans forward to grab the shea butter and tv remote to hand to his cub. and takes a dollop of shea butter and rubs it into his palms as she picks some rom-com—set it up tonight, a fan favorite—to watch before taking one of her feet in his paws, smoothing the moisturizer into her skin, soothing the ache, digging them out from the crevices of her muscles with those heavenly fingers of his. in the bedroom, he kisses and sucks on her little pink toes, keeps them pressed against his pecs when he's got her on her back, pulls them up to his stomach when he's got her on all fours. he just thinks they're so cute, little pink things, and he loves the way she reacts when he sucks them into his mouth it makes his head spin almost as much as when they’re sliding up and down the length of his hard cock.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

boxer!carmy was a whore. key word; was, but still, you know? that little comment about ring girls he made to his cub during their first fight was not just some information he picked up after years of being in the industry, carmy knows. it's a fact that his cub loves to throw in his face whenever he gets unreasonably jealous at her interaction with the male species, because she has to watch him get swarmed by ten different scarcely clothed girls every time he wins a fight with a fucking smile on her face; he can suffer through a few minutes of her making idle conversation with the opposite sex.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

oh lawd i feel like this is a toss up between missionary and doggy. carm loves missionary because, for one, he gets to see his cub's gorgeous face and study each reaction and inflection she offers him. he can easily reach for her heaving tits and squeeze them in his massive paws, or lean down to suckle a trail of hickies over them. he'll throw her legs over his shoulders and fall into her, folding her in on herself, spreading her open for him, sneak his hand down between their bodies to smear his thumb over her clit. but then there's doggy where he can press and play with her perfect ass as he sinks his cock into her to the root, pushing down on the bend of her back to force her farther into and arm, face smushed against the sheets, shoulders slumped, ass up and pressed tight to her bear. more hard decisions :(((

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

i definitely think our bear is more on the serious side. it certainly wouldn't ruin the moment if he tripped over himself when trying to yank down his pants, or they bump foreheads or he gets elbowed when he manhandles her around where he wants her, a brief, soft and loving laugh exchanged between them. but they fall right back into each other when the moment has passed, drunk of both lust and love, a fatal attraction. their affection—obsession—for one another is too serious for their sex to be any different.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

despite his honorific, carmy keeps it clean down there. not smooth-shaven, but not prickly or bushy either. it's just the right length and amount that it's honestly more attractive that he isn't completely smooth. he prefers to wax, and will shave to trim up anywhere thats needed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

our boy carmy craves being close, so it's hard to imagine him being anything but intimate when he's with his girl, between the sheets or not. no one said he was conventionally intimate, however. he shows his intimacy through a hand sealed to the hinge of her jaw, keeping her mouth near his. or with fingers digging into hips, locking her to his cock; through a fist in her scalp, or a hand pressing down on the bulge in her stomach. i feel like carm is more primally intimate than romantically intimate, you know? anywhore...

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he doesn't even remember the meaning of the term 💀 only if the hand jacking his stiff cock belongs to his cub :))

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

oh em gee this actually just popped into my brain but like i can see carm lwk liking temperature play but like not normal?? y'all HEAR ME OUT THERE'S A VISION. after like a particularly brutal fight (our baby won still, dw) carmy has to take an ice bath to soothe his muscles, so he slips inside a large tin bath with his girl by he side, sitting in a chair pulled next to the bath. he's shivering as he sinks down to his neck, heavy breath coming through pursed lips, hands clenched into fits beneath the ice. he curses under his breath but eventually settle, his cub's hand pressing sweaty curls away from his forehead. he rolls his head back against the padded ledge and flits his droopy eyes up to her, smiling softly. and then, unprovoked, "come sit on m'face, cub." and like... ok! so she moves her chair to the head of the tub and then sits with her front facing the back of the chair. she grips the top of her seat as carmy fits his head between her parted thighs and lifts his freezing arms from the ice water and "quiet f'me, baby, don't need anybody walkin' in." so... yeah 💆🏽‍♀️

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

carmen will fuck his girl literally anywhere in the house—it's their fucking penthouse, he should be able to shove his cock inside his cub whenever, wherever, and however he fucking feels like. i feel like they fuck in the locker room way too often in the beginning stages of their relationship, and at least twice in the actual arena on the canvas of the ring. oh, he lovessss a good car and/or limo sesh, reminds him of their first time <333

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

literally anything his cub does. anything. some favorites, though, are when she dances for, with, or on him, when she licks sweat from his skin in some feral display of affection, when she tries to manhandle him the way he can her, and when she asks him for help—seriously, she's so goddamn stubborn and coy that she rarely ever just asks for something, there's always some game to play.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

hmmm i think he would never do anything with a knife or something involving blood when it comes to his cub—like, if there's cuts and bruises on his body from a fight and she's pressin' and kissin' and bitin' on them, drawing his ichor to the surface, he's not gonna stop the show. but if he claws at her flesh hard enough to scrape away a few layers of skin and draws crimson to the surface, he's literally throwing a fit, like borderline calling an ambulance, about to report himself for a crime. he's not against the infliction of pain in a sexual context—clearly not, he'll bite and smack and yank his cub to his heart's content—but the second it turns from something enticingly heady into something hurtful and damning all facades are dropped and he's tending to his sweetheart :((

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

bear is a MUNCHHHHH!! he's always gagging to get his head between his cub's thighs, and he's damn good at it. he pays close attention every time he's down there, listens for every bleat and moan she lets slip past her plump lips, hands soothing any patch of flesh he can paw at. he'd never turn down his cub's—hot and wet around him; knows everything he likes, needs, to finish him off—but if she says some dumb shit like, "do you want me to give you head or do you want to give me head?" he pulling her into him and ripping at whatever his blocking his mouth from her sweet pussy so he can fucking show her what he wants—

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

i think it deffffinitely depends on the mood/situation. like he always sets the pace in the moment, based off the vibe the night has curated and the way his girl has been behaving for the night. HEAVY on the behavior; all she has to do is be good and she'll get what she asks for—but we've established she doesn't ask for anything, she plays games, and so why would this be any fucking different. so i suppose most of the time it's firm and deep but not necessarily fast, only when she begs for it, and, on the rare occasion she plays nice, he takes soft and slow with his sweet cub.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

if his girl's down, he's down 😛.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

i feel like he's open to anything that doesn't cause real harm to his cub. like he'll try out exhibitionism with her if she wants to but only in a controlled environment. keeps the details to himself so she feels like it's raw and unstaged, but he'd for sure rent out like a club or restaurant and fuck her on the table in front of everyone—everyone being a group of paid, NDA signed actors, you know?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

MJ said it best y'all; he's makin' sweet love 'til the break of dawn 🤧 (like regardless if he just got beat down—if his girl wants his cock, she's getting his cock).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i don't think carm every had or really used toys before he met his girl, and they don't use them particularly often in the bedroom to begin with, but he's not averse to them, and when they do it's always a good time—for some more than others (the some being carmen, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of his twitching cub, c'mon, baby, gimme more, gimme that fuckin' cream—).

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

jesus lord 😖. mean, mean, mean man, our bear :(( he riles his cub up 37,000 times a day and leaves her high and soaked each time. slips a rogue hand up her skirt to pet at her clothed pussy, fits his hand to her jaw when she gets snippy, keeps a hand on her—usually her ass—at all times, tell her to open up when he pulls away from a kiss to offhandedly spit in her sweet mouth. then he just... smiles and gives her an unnecessary wink, moseying off to do whatever it is that he does :(((

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

i'm a FIRM believer that cub is the only person—despite carm's gross (in her opinion) body count—that can make him moan, you know? like deep, from the pit of his stomach, rooted in the pleasure she stirs in the belly of the beast—the bear, her bear—a low, rumbling moan fallen past his red, bitten lips, parting and un-parting over stuttered breaths. like she makes him sing the way he does for her, and she's the only one that can :))

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he lets her use the tip to scroll 💀 (i can imagine this so vividly in my head 😭 😭) BUT ANYWAY i think our bear likes nip sucking...idk i can just see him with a lactation kink :)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

i feel like i covered this the best i could in the first time blurby but if it wasn't clear our man is THICK. like his cock is no longer then six, six and half inches long, but the width??? literally tearing his girl in two 🤕

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

IF HIS GIRL'S DOWN, HE'S DOWN, SHE IS HIS SEX DRIVE.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

boxer!carmy only falls alseep after he knows he's girl is knocked out for the night. he tickles, gentle, with his finger-pads, up and down her arm, whispers sweet praises in her ear and presses kisses to her sweaty temple and lull her into a dreamy, sated state and eventually to bed. only then, with her nose pressed into his neck and her hands bunched up at his chest, tucked in his side, with her leg thrown over his slowly rising and falling stomach, does he allow his eyes to grow heavy with sleep. when (if) he dreams, he dreams of her.

——

a/n: this was fun!! hope u enjoy my berry 😚

not edited/proofread!

[widowpunx]

So freaking happy someone is writing wandanat, I get so tired of all reader insert stuff. Can you write one where G!PNatasha takes Wanda to her first club to celebrate her birthday and some hot dom starts hitting on Wanda and it pisses Nat off and so naturally she ends up getting really possessive and they end up having fantastic drunk sex and Nat figures out that Wanda may be a little kinkier than she realized.

I'm having a super rough day so that would really be a silver lining in all of it.

My Favorite Need

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/Natasha Romanoff

Rated: Explicit [Just 18+]

Words: 3,614

This work contains: Explicit Sex Scenes. Natasha Romanov Has a Penis, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Sex, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex. Possessive Natasha Romanov, Sub Wanda Maximoff, Dom Natasha Romanov, Jealous Natasha Romanov, Wanda is a Tease.

English is not my first language. Sorry for any mistake

Hope you enjoy and makes your day a thousand times better

Wanda had no plans for her birthday after all the unfortunate events that happened the last few weeks, like escaping the raft and becoming an international fugitive but her teammates decided to cheer her up. Steve baked her a birthday cake, Sam gave her the last two books of the Harry Potter saga of which she was a great lover and Natasha gave her a nice black leather jacket and a nice silver necklace with a pretty scarlet jewel which were to Wanda's liking, she loved leather jackets and the necklace was a nice gift. Wanda couldn't help that nice flutter in her chest when Natasha placed the delicate necklace around her neck.

For the first time in a long time Wanda was very excited about her 26th birthday. The surprises seemed to be endless as Natasha decided to invite her to a nightclub for the first time. She was anxious to meet a nightclub for the first time in her life, it could be a fun place to dance. Natasha assured her that this nightclub was the best in Prague. Steve didn't agree with the girls going to a public place like that as it might attract attention but Natasha assured him that she would take care of Wanda. While Steve and Sam would be watching the surroundings of the safe house Natasha and Wanda would be celebrating.

Wanda wore a black dress that Pepper had given her on her last birthday. The dress highlighted her figure and her red hair, she wore black makeup around her green eyes to make them shine even more. Natasha picked her up at the old safe house and gave her a warm hug.

"Happy birthday, little witch." Natasha told her with a sweet crooked smile as her eyes moved up and down admiring the young sokovian girl's beauty. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," Wanda told her, smiling back and trying not to blush. Natasha looked great just in black jeans, combat boots and a black leather jacket and her red hair shining and flowing down her shoulders.

"Come on, I'll show you what a real party is like. Just you and me and vodka to celebrate this very special occasion." Natasha told her, leading Wanda out of the safe house where a black audi was waiting parked on the street.

They arrived at the place and got in without having to wait, thanks to the fact that Natasha knew the owner of the nightclub. The nightclub was full of people, strobe lights all over the place while the hard beats of the music makes every part of Wanda vibrate. Natasha took Wanda's hand and led her to the dance floor. Natasha started to move to the music, and Wanda felt a little awkward as she didn't know how to dance, however Wanda let herself go as she felt Natasha holding her close and swaying to the music.

Wanda smiled broadly as she felt a happiness fill her chest, for a moment she forgot that she was a wanted fugitive and instead she was a normal girl enjoying her birthday. Natasha and Wanda drank some vodka to start the night, however by the fourth vodka Wanda started to feel dizzy but happy.

The happiness inside her increased as she noticed Natasha looking at her with sparkling eyes. Wanda wondered if Natasha had realized her feelings. Wanda had felt more than friendship for the spy for a long time but after Natasha released her from the raft her crush became more intense. Wanda wanted to tell her how she felt, but she didn't know how.

She didn't want to risk embarrassing herself and end up heartbroken if Natasha didn't feel the same way. Worse yet Wanda was afraid of ruining her friendship with Nat. Maybe Natasha just saw her as a little sister.

"You want a beer this time?" asked Natasha, after dancing to several songs.

"Yes, please." nodded Wanda as she finished her vodka tonic, her cheeks a little flushed. "A beer sounds great."

" Wait here, I'll get the beers." Natasha told her with a smile, before going towards the bar.

Wanda was left alone on the dance floor, and took the opportunity to look around. She saw many people dancing and drinking minding their own business and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Meanwhile, a drunk man approached her from behind and whispered in her ear.

"Hey, beautiful, what are you doing alone in a place like this?

Wanda was startled and turned to see who it was. She had to make a great effort not to use her magic and throw the drunk guy into the air. He was a tall, muscular man with shaved head in a red shirt and tight jeans. He had an arrogant smile and red eyes that looked at her as if she was a piece of meat.

" I'm not alone." Wanda said, trying to get away.

"Who are you coming with?" asked the drunken man, taking a step forward, "Where is your date? I don't see it anywhere.

"On the bar getting us some drinks," said Wanda nervously. Her heart was pounding as she fiddled with her fingers, a clear sign of nervousness in her.

"Well, while your imaginary friend comes back, why don't we dance a little?" the man said, taking her by the waist and pulling her closer to him. His accent was harsh.

Wanda felt uncomfortable and scared at the same time. She could use her magic but she didn't want to make a fuss and putting Natasha, Sam and Steve at risk if someone called the police. It was unpleasant when the man pressed her against his body and brushed her face with his. She tried to pull away, but he was stronger than she was. Wanda needed her magic.

"Get away from me." Wanda mumbled, her body all tense."

"Come on, doll. Don't be shy," the drunken man said, winking at her. "I can get you out of here and take you to my apartment if you want."

"I don't like you. I'm not crazy to go with drunk idiot like you." Wanda hissed this time not noticing that a very angry Natasha was walking towards them.

"I like it when bitches like you act tough. In the end they're the ones begging for more cock" the man had a nasty grin on his face.

Wanda was about to respond to the asshole for that disgusting comment but a familiar voice interrupted her. "The girl said to let her go, asshole!" Natasha shouted at him, her voice clear and loud over the pounding music.

"Who are you?" said the drunken man confronting Natasha.

"She's my girlfriend." This time it was Wanda who answered as her face reddened at what she had said. She couldn't believe she had said that. Maybe the vodka in her system made her say such nonsense. Internally she was screaming. "Oh shit! Oh shit!" praying that Natasha wouldn't get mad at her for saying they were girlfriends.

Fortunately Natasha played along as she stepped in front of Wanda.

"Girlfriend? Ha ha ha ha I don't believe you." the man said, teasing the two but his smile faded when Natasha pulled Wanda close and kissed her. The first touch of Natasha's lips against hers sent her to heaven. Wanda was speechless, for a moment she forgot how to breathe. She couldn't believe what was happening, it seemed like the world had stopped around them. Natasha was kissing her. It was what she had dreamed of for so long.

As a smile appeared on her lips, Wanda opened her mouth allowing Natasha to deepen the kiss. They kissed passionately, and forgot about everything else. The heat of Natasha's body pressed against hers was totally intoxicating, Wanda didn't want this moment to ever end. Natasha's lips tasted like vodka and cherry. Wanda realized that Natasha was a fucking good kisser. The man looked at them with rage and helplessness, fortunately the security of the place arrived and took him out of the nightclub.

Natasha was the first to break the kiss to the bad luck of Wanda who could spend all night kissing Nat. The redhead whispered in her ear. "Come with me."

Wanda didn't have time to answer she simply followed Natasha who led her up some stairs to the second floor of the club where there were some private rooms with beds and big curtains at the entrances to offer some privacy to those couples who wanted to have an intimate moment

"Oh god! What are you doing, Natasha?!" Wanda gasped as Natasha pressed her up against the wall.

"So did you say you were my girlfriend, right?"

"Sorry, Nat. That was a very stupid thing to say." Wanda began to apologize. However she couldn't believe the peculiar situation she found herself in.

"No need to apologize, little witch. I actually like the idea of you being my girlfriend." Natasha chuckled as she used her body to press Wanda against the wall. The witch almost groaned when Natasha cupped her left tit and gently squeezing it. Wanda gasped as Natasha laugh and pressed warm kisses on her neck.

Natasha has had her eyes on the Sokovian girl ever since she joined the team, but with every battle and every moment with her only served to make Natasha realize that she loved the girl. Wanda was sweet and smart, and incredibly gorgeous with a pretty face and bright green eyes, and also a gorgeous pair of large tits and a sweet ass. It was just a crush she said to herself the last two years but after what happened with that drunken asshole she'd decided that she would try to make Wanda hers.

Wanda couldn't help but feel a little excited when Natasha pulled down the cleavage of her dress and exposed her bare tits. The touch of Natasha was something more. Everything was happening so fast but at the same time so slow. She wanted to have something really intimate with Natasha. She would be lying if she said no. Wanda has spent whole days fantasizing about Natasha. Her fantasies and desires had only gotten hotter since she discovered Natasha's secret.

One sleepless morning Wanda made herself a cup of tea and started wandering the halls of the complex but abruptly stopped when she noticed noises coming from one of the gyms. Glancing inside she saw Natasha hitting the punching bag. Wanda's mouth went dry as she noticed the view of a very sweaty Natasha practicing some boxing moves. She liked to see the way her arm muscles bulged out. Suddenly her jaw dropped when noticed the outline of a prick on her shorts. Natasha had a penis! The realization almost made her faint. Wanda has never been the same since she discovered Natasha's secret.

Wanda groaned as Natasha pressed her hard against the wall and more forcefully rubbed her stiff nipple. The sokovian witch felt a surge of excitement as her mentor pressed her strong body up against hers. Wanda inhaled sharpy as soon as she could feel a huge bulge rubbing against her crotch.

"Oh god!," Wanda said with wide eyes, her legs were shaking. Natasha's bulge was huge and stiff. Wanda can feel it throbbing against her crotch. She was embarrassed to feel her panties all wet at this point.

"Can you feel it, uh?" Natasha murmured with a smile as she watched Wanda's flushed face.

Wanda didn't have the courage to respond however she nodded as her cheeks grew even redder. She stopped breathing when Natasha took her right hand and slide it down her crotch where her bulging prick was.

"Oh Nat!" Wanda gasped in response as she felt the huge bulge in her jeans. Natasha was awakening a side in her she never knew she had. There was a pleasant tingle between her thighs, and soft throb in her clit. She realized that she was getting wet, very wet under Natasha's touch.

Natasha wasted no time and removed the leather jacket that fell to the floor a minute later leaving Wanda's chest exposed to her eyes with only the small silver necklace with the scarlet jewel adorning her neck.

"Bozhe moi, what a pretty tits," Natasha said, squeezing Wanda's beautiful tits. She couldn't help but pinch her left nipple. That only turned Wanda on. As she continued to kneading her tits, the redhead witch began to get all hot. It was then Natasha slide her free hand slowly worked down her flat belly to the hem of the dress Wanda was wearing.

Wanda shivered when Natasha pressed her soft lips against hers and gave her a hot wet kiss. Natasha was tasting Wanda's mouth and devouring her moans as she began to tug at her wet red panties with her hand. Not wasting time Natasha quickly pushed her index finger into her drooling pussy and began sliding it in and out.

Suddenly Wanda groaned as she threw her head back in pleasure. "Ahhh!" It was a blessing that the loud music of the club drowned out her moan, otherwise they probably would have heard her all the way to the dance floor.

Wanda was breathing hard as Natasha smiled and her finger buried deeper into her pussy. In seconds she began to wildly moan and spread her legs wider as the finger fucked deeper and deeper into her tingling dephts.

"You're super tight, Wanda! What a tight honey pot you have down here, baby!" Natasha hummed in her ear as as added another finger and explore the depths of Wanda's sweet pussy. She couldn't believe how wet the gorgeous witch was, her hand was bathed with her sweet pussy juices.

Wanda was enjoying the pleasant fingerfuck. She was almost was almost there! Ready to cum! Natasha's touch on her pussy were sending thrills up and down her spine. Her head was dizzy and spinning. Not even realizing what she was doing, Wanda giggled and reached down and began kneading Natasha's throbbing cock with her hand.

"Oh yes! Touch me! Yeah! Yeah!" Natasha encouraged her with a devilish smile curving her lips. "Open my pants and pulled out my prick."

Wanda no necesitaba que le dijeran dos veces. She just nodded and bit her lower lips, with her right hand she began to unbutton the pants and lower the zipper. Wanda noticed Natasha's prick seemed to swell and throb as she lowered the zipper. It was a surprise to notice that Natasha didn't wear any underwear, so his huge cock burst out from its confines. Wanda almost drooled as she saw Natasha's beautiful prick protruding from her crotch. It was long and thick with blue veins around it.

Wanda inhaled sharply and grabbed her hard prick as Natasha laughed softly and continued to explore Wanda's wet pussy, playing with her clit. A soft moan fell from her mouth as Wanda began to jerk on Natasha's cock. It seemed to throb in her hand, as the tip drooled droplets of transparent pre-cum.

"Like it, huh?" Natasha asked. The hot flush now covered Wanda's neck and tits.

"Oh yeah! Feels so good!" Wanda nodded in approval and began to moan as she approached orgasm. Her hand wrapped around Natasha's throbbing prick."I love your fingers in me. It feels so good"

"I love to play with your pussy, baby!" Natasha whispered as Wanda continued to jerk her aching cock. She groaned in appreciative ecstasy and began to spread hot kisses on Wanda's neck as she added the third finger and fucked her.

Wanda was ready to reach her climax, and she suspect that by the way Natasha was groaning and kissing her neck, she was ready to cum too. She could hear the slurping sound her fingers were making in her wet pussy. It was sexy to hear that. She couldn't contain herself any longer.

"Oh, Nat! Mmmm that's nice! Mmmm!" Wanda gasped, her throat was dry, her body was melting. Finally she came, moaning and giggling. It was then she felt Natasha's prick throb and spewing cum all over her hand.

Wanda looked down just in time to see Natasha's cumming. She kept stroking Natasha's cock for a long time. It seemed as if she would never stop cumming. Certainly Wanda was amazed at the amount. Her hand was a mess, some ropes of semen fell on the carpeted floor.

"God, that was sexy!" Wanda thought with a smile. She felt an incredible urgency of kneel and lick all Natasha's creamy semen. Without thinking, she put her wet fingers in her mouth and tasted Natasha's semen. She was surprised how delicious the creamy seed tasted, it was a little salty, but it still tasted so delicious.

"Taste good, little slut?" Natasha just laughed in response.

"Uh huh" Wanda nodded with her fingers still stuck in her mouth. Still horny, Natasha gently pushed her down on couch in the middle of the room and said: "Now you horny little slut, it's time to fuck you."

Wanda fell on the couch and watch the dominant redhead standing over her, her thick cock hard throbbing in the air. She hummed softly and grabbed her huge cock and guided it to her glistening cunt hole. "Fuck me hard! I need it so bad! I'm all wet and ready for you!"

For a moment Wanda couldn't believe what she had said, after all, the woman before her was her mentor. But her emotions and her urgent needs were too much for her, and at the moment she just wanted to get fucked by Natasha's huge cock.

"Tell me who do you belong to? Come on I want to hear you say my name!." Natasha had a seductive smile on her face , her hand wrapped around her throbbing prick.

"To you. Only you." Wanda replied shakily and noted the delight in Natasha's eyes as she guiding her prick and inserted the bulbous cockhead between the lips of her pussy. Seeing the lustful expression on Wanda's blushed face, Natasha slowly shoved the inch after inch of her thick cock into her warm tight pussy.

"Ohhhh! Fuck!!" Wanda had to closer her eyes and moaned as Natasha lunged forward, sending her thick cock deeply into her. She was enjoying the new stimulation so much but she thought that she was going to be split in two by Natasha.

Natasha groaned and pulled back for a moment and gave the gorgeous witch a moment to adapt the size before she fucked her. Wanda was shaking up and down as Natasha slowly withdrew her cock till only the tip remained, then she slide it in and out. Slowly she began to stablish a constant hard rhythm. 

"Ohhhh goddd!" Wanda groaned in delight, for the hard thrusts she began to have delicious effects on her semi-naked body. She couldn't believe the sensations that were filling her body. The initial discomfort was vanishing and turning into pleasure as the veiny shaft was slicing through her inflamed and glistening folds.

"Oh, baby! You're so tight and hot for me!" Natasha growled and began to speed up her thrusts. She smiled as she felt Wanda's quivering legs raise up and encircle her ass. Wanda was also smiling but mostly groaning as her feminine hips rose to meet each of her hard thrusts.

Holy shit! Wanda had never been more excited. Natasha was satisfying her more than any person in the world. Natasha was hitting all the sweet spots within her as goosebumps covered her skin.

"I'm cumming! Oh Natasha! I'm cumming!" Wanda giggled happily as her body began to shiver. Her nails raked across Natasha's strong back ass as she pulled her closer. "Cum in me! Oh yes! Give it to me!" She moaned in ecstasy as her drooling pussy convulse and tingle. All the situation was amazing. Her body was burning with intense happiness, her sticky pussy juices ran down onto her inner thighs. Natasha continued fucking her with a devilish smile on her face.

Wanda she was ready to cum again. She climaxed twice in the previous fifteen minutes, but she was ready to cum again. What an incredible experience! Natasha was grunting with eyes closed and pumped her prick into her spasming pussy. Wanda squealed in delight at the sensation. She wanted to feel Natasha's semen filling her pussy and painting her depths..

"Oh, baby, your pussy is so tight, I'm gonna shoot all my cum into you!" Natasha growled as she began to fuck faster into her pussy. "Would you like that?"

"Ohhhh yesss!!" Wanda groaned in delight and closed her eyes, loved the way Natasha was forcing her huge prick into her, each penetration was delicious, splitting her in two and leaving her breathless. Her own orgasm was building and ready to explode like a super nova.

"Faster, baby! ... Fuck me harder and faster!" Wanda was giggling as Natasha give her a few rough thrusts into her cunt and then a torrent of semen exploded from her aching prick. "Oh that's good! Mmmm!" Wanda babbled, her words came out in short heavy breaths. She felt the warm semen filling her and then her tingling pussy dephts around Natasha's cock. For a moment Wanda wished she would never stop cumming as her own orgasm engulfed her body. Wanda was shaking violently and struggling to breath, feeling Natasha's semen ran freely out of her pussy and down her ass.

Finally, Natasha kissed her on the lips and pulled off her semi hard prick "If you don't mind I'd like to continue exploring that kinky side of you little witch."

"I don't mind at all." Wanda laughed tiredly. Her first fuck with Natasha made her eager to repeat more experiences with Natasha. Just having this woman to satisfy the intense desires in her. At the end of the day her 26th birthday turned out better than expected.

[starbabyg]

tbh i would love to hear some zadorov thoughts (he is so large and im feral like not only tall BUT BEEFY 😩 like sorry i just came)

gwerlll!!!! This one gets nasty!!!

This Russian man!!!!

His dick is thiccccc. It has some girth to it

Like it just stretches you out so good it’s almost painful

It’s a heavy son of a bitchhh

He’s rough and doesn’t give a fuck

Smacks your ass and teases you for whining

“Awe listen to those cries, keep ‘em coming sweetheart I love to hear you whine”

He’s just a giant of a man

Can easily just pick you up and fuck you

He can literally do those positions that are in pornos

Just fucking you mid air

He loves to fuck you from the back

He wraps your hair around his hand and pulls you back into him, curling his hand around your throat

Meanwhile he’s whispering the nastiest of things to you

“If only you could see how dirty of a girl you are. My pretty little slut.”

Although that does give him an idea: buy a mirror so you can watch yourself get fucked

He gets a giant mirror and places it in front of the bed

Nikita loves to force you to watch yourself, as much as you can when your eyes aren’t rolling to the back of your skull

He loves to play with your pussy, legs forced open with him speeding up his pace every time you try to squeeze them together

Ugh he just smells like sex, tobacco musk, and vanilla. Yummmm

This man will try everything under the sun with you

Rope bondage, even having the rope mounted to the ceiling so you’re just dangling a few feet off the ground, all entrapped in a makeshift web that leaves you vulnerable to him

Although Nikita would be a total freakazoid he’s also the type to be soooo goofy during sex

Like you’re waiting on him to get a towel to clean you up and he’s doing some funky dance *insert him twerking from that one video*

The shift mostly happens after y’all have kids (if you choose to)

He has more paternal instincts so he dials down the bruise leaving spankings and choking

It’s more him praising your body for being so beautiful and giving him his children

“Mmm the beautiful mother of my children, you’re an angel and a saint.” As he kisses up your chest to your chin

Although when you’re like “errr can we get freaky like we used to” he does notttt hesitate

But he does make the kids go to their grandparents for the weekend cause he knows he’s gonna make you scream bloody murder when he kills da pwussyyyyy

I just know zadorov got a freaky ass sex life tho ugh!! I need to see itttt!!!

[didyoulookforme]

thinking about riding Matty while his hands are tied behind his back yummy yummy monday evening thoughts

oh my god anon, thank you for this.

are you in my head? because this is something i've been wanting to chat about regarding soft subby bf matty but haven't gone around to doing a proper blurb so here are some ramblings that i hope make sense. it's just a run-on stream of consciousness thing with no formatting and no real ending. i also got too carried away so it is a longer one lol

warning: 18+, smut, reader is upset. grammatical errors, typos.

other bf matty blurbs & rambles here.

okay, so imagine you just got home from a fucking awful day of work. freaking debbie from accounting is back at it, making your job impossible and a living hell. who knows what her problem is. anyway. right away when you enter the apartment you are greeted by the scent of a delicious pasta that your dear bf matty is preparing because he's one damn good cook (it's canon for him, lol). you go to the kitchen and sit at the bar, watching as matty whips up the alfredo sauce which is your favourite. matty greets you without looking at first because he's too focused on getting the proper cheese to cream ratio for the sauce, but once he does, he knows right away that something's off.

bad day, huh?

you make some sort of confirming grunt before you rest your forehead on the cold marble countertop. because your head is down, you don't notice the sad expression on matty's face; he cares about you too much so anytime you're feeling down he cannot help but feel upset, too. he takes one last taste of the sauce (perfect!) before he pulls it off the fire and places it on a trivet. as much as he loves cooking and prepping dinner for you, he wants to make you feel better. so the pasta can wait. bless him.

he takes off his denim apron (which has a drawing of a rooster on the front, for some reason...) before heading over to your side. you feel the warm palm of his hand rub your back in the gentlest of ways while his other grabs your hand. c'mon darling. you raise your head to finally look at your surroundings again only to realize that he stove burners are off and his apron is crumpled on the countertop.

matty, what about the food, i know you like finish-

don't worry about it, love, the food will still taste good later on. let's go.

you're not one to deny him, so you get off the stool and follow his lead as he takes you over to the living room, guiding you to both to sit on the sofa.

he asks about your day as he knows talking makes you feel better in these sort of occasions but it catches him off guard (and you as well, truly) when you just start sobbing uncontrollably as you recount your day. the stress and pressure has been building in your body that all you can really do is cry out of frustration. matty instantly brings you close so you're straddling him, arms wrapped tightly around you, trying to provide some sort of comfort as the tears just stream down your face soaking the fabric of his shirt. your head is buried in the crook of his neck, giving him access to gently kiss the skin of your exposed neck, continuously whispering it's okay, it's okay.

and everything is usually okay, but this time you cannot help but feel an overwhelming mixture of anger and exhaustion. it's bad enough that you've subconsciously grabbed fistfuls of your boyfriend's curly hair, and when you realize you're doing so, you instantly jerk away, apologizing profusely while more tears streak down your face.

oh no, i'm sorry. i'm so sor--

he urgently but carefully grabs your face between his hands, bringing his forehead against yours. it's okay, it's okay. everything feels like too much right now, that not even the sensation of his gentle fingers on your face can soothe whatever is brewing inside you.

and at that moment you cannot help but kiss him. hard, fast and hungrily. he whimpers against your lips at the shock of it all, but doesn't hesitate to kiss you back, letting you take the lead and set the pace. teeth clashing against each other, you bitting at his bottom lip, shoving your tongue in his mouth constantly. it's messy and aggressive but he doesn't stop you, only pulling away to catch your breath, looking down at the crumbled fabric of his now over stretched shirt clenched in between your fingers.

seeing his dishevelled state--red swollen lips, unruly hair, wrinkled top--is enough to edge you on to continue, now focusing on leaving marks all over his neck, around the several necklaces that he wears. there's nothing gentle about it, a sharp contrast as to how softly he's holding on to your waist. you lick, bite, suck at any skin that you find, leaving behind countless bruises along the way as he moans uncontrollably underneath you. your left hand is back on his hair, pulling at it so his neck is exposed, while your right one is aimlessly trying to unbutton his pants but failing miserably. god knows you're already frustrated enough, so you just grab one of matty's hands and bring it over to the front of his jeans so he can undo the pesky button and zipper himself. once he's done, he places your palm back at the top of his pants, giving him a mumbled thank you before you slide your fingers under the fabric of his boxers.

you waste no time and start stroking his cock as fast as you can, all while you desperately kiss him leaving you both breathless once more. because of your erratic pace, it doesn't take long for matty to begin losing control. you know he's getting near his climax because of the way his legs are starting to shake and how close he pulls your body against him. however, you're too deep in whatever trance has possessed over you, that you take your hand away as to not let him finish. not yet at least.

and before he says anything about it, you get off his lap and on to your feet, dragging him up with you so you can take off his pants and underwear completely. you instruct him to remove his shirt and you swear he's never done it faster in his life. instantly your lips are clashing against each other for the millionth time that night, giving you the chance to reach behind your head and undo the white silk scarf holding up your ponytail. again, you're not entirely sure what's taken over your mind and body, but before you know it, you tie matty's wrists behind his back.

you push him down on the couch, bitting your bottom lip and silently asking him if this is alright. the fucked out expression and small smile tugging at the corner of his lips is all the confirmation you need.

please.

you take off your soaked underwear but decide to keep your floral cotton dress on because you know it's his favourite. it's the least you can do for how you've been treating him. not that he minds; it's quite the opposite in fact. with each of your knees to his sides, you straddle him for the second time that night, grabbing his cock and guiding him to your cunt before you sink down and take him all at once.

and it fucking hurts. having him inside you without any foreplay is probably a stupid choice, but part of you hopes that the pain can help take away some of the anger and resentment built up in your body not only from that day, but weeks and months prior. more tears end up streaming down your face. from the pain or anger, you don't know. probably both.

hey, hey. love are you ok-?

you cover his mouth with your hand before he can say anything else, but you look at him and nod, glassy eyes assuring him that it is okay. he returns an understanding, soft look, and that's when you finally begin to move your hips, grinding hard against his dick so you can feel every single inch of him inside you. in that instant you see his brown eyes roll to the back of his head, mumbling a fuck against the palm of your hand. you work yourself up to a steady pace, switching between grinding and moving up and down his cock to hit that spot inside you which makes you delusional.

with your fingers still over his open mouth, you can hear his muffled moans, his spit now covering the palm of your hand and dripping down his chin. it's fucking obscene sight but one that you hope you'll never forget.

making sure that his eyes are on yours, you finally take the hand off his mouth. his gaze follows as you take your soaked fingers and guide them under your dress, your high pitched moans a clear sign that you have started to rub your clit.

oh my fucking god.

he snaps his head up to look at you with the most lustful yet loving expression on his face. the adoration radiating off him is too much for you to handle and you cannot help but smile, the first time you’d done so during that whole day. there is no more pain, no more tears, just pure pleasure running through your body, washing away the frustration.

thank you.

[honeybeefae]

smutty Tuesday idea where Azriel wants to finally get back at Cassian and Nesta and fucks his new girl all over the House of Wind while they're on a mission/away

Anon, I have the BEST news for you.

So for smutty Tuesday I’m trying to keep the fics kind of small so I can get to everyone but your idea I’ve already wrote a FULL FIC! It’s long, it’s dirty, it fits all of your ideas, it’s one of my favorite Azriel fics that I’ve written bc I just feel like it captures him so well.

Here’s the link for it!! Let me know if you like it and if still doesn’t scratch the itch, feel free to send another ask!! ❤️❤️

Link to Revenge (Azriel x Reader)

[misc-obeyme]

what if…here me out on this when the demon bros are having private time MC can feel it because of the pacts, like he can just feel basically everything the demon bros do and they take advantage of the fact that MC can feel what they do (bottom male mc plssss also obey me brothers btw)

NSFW MDNI

Does MC get to come at the same time as the demon brother in question? Because if not, I suspect this would be incredibly frustrating. Cue MC tracking down whoever it was being like, you gotta take care of what you've started.

Asmo seems like he'd be the biggest culprit. He would do it on purpose just to get MC to find him.

Others would be mortified as soon as they found out. Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, they'd all be a mess about it. Lucifer would pretend that he was all chill, but he'd be so embarrassed. Mammon would freak out about it at first, but then realize he's really into it. He becomes almost as bad as Asmo. Levi would lock himself in his room and never come out again. Unless maybe MC coaxed him out.

I think Satan would know that this was a consequence of having a pact before it was revealed. He's done too much research on magic and such things to be unaware. So the first time he does it, it's very deliberate. He'll do it nearby so that the second he hears MC's breath hitch, he's there to swoop in and take care of the rest for them. What are we talking about? Bottom male MC? Yeah. Yeah, Satan's more than prepared to bend you over the nearest desk~

Beel just seems like he wouldn't be embarrassed about it. In fact, I think he would worry about MC. Oh wait you could feel all that? Are you okay? Do you want to... you know...? Just say yes so he can spend the next few hours worshiping you.

Belphie, as the resident brat, will also do it just to make MC crazy. Won't help them out. Refuses. Says he's sleepy now, go away. Buuuut if MC pesters him enough, he'll give in. Not because he feels the need to take responsibility for what he's done, but because he likes the idea of making MC desperate for him.

[t0yac1d]

MOOOORRREEEE SUB CARL 😍😍 I am insatiable and your writing is soooo *chefs kiss*

Since we’ve deprived him so badly, what about overstimulation? Completely milking his cock until he’s begging for a break 🥺🥺

(Side-note: happy birthday!!)

Hrs & Hrs (C.Grimes x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Smut, overstimulation, p in v, sub!Carl, praise

Notes: I have so many Carl requests coming in so I'm happy to know that you guys enjoy them! And thank you for the birthday wish my love!

Word Count: 395

His body trembled, shaking and sweaty. His hair stook to his skin and his chest heaved. Breath airy and voice horse. His head was empty, dumb off the way you bounced on his cock.

His hands gripped and groped at your ass, tits, hips and thighs. He held you tight and close to him, he was overstimulated, you've already made him cum multiple times, and that was just from you giving him a blow job.

He didn't think he could cum anymore but from the amount of times he filled you, he found out he in fact could cum more.

His cum dripped out of your hole and soaked the sheets under you guys. He made you cum a number of times but you wanted more. You wanted him to fill you to the brim.

Carl whined as he came again, nails digging into your thighs. You stopped bouncing and started grinding against him, rolling your hips.

"Can't..can't cum anymore.." he stuttered, "Yes you can, I know you can. Just one more time, please baby?"

He pulled you close to him, your chest on his. He rested his head on your shoulder. "Give me one more, just one?" you pleaded, kissing his face and neck.

As much as he wanted a break, he also wanted to please you, to keep you happy and full. He looked up at you and gave you a nod. His lids were low from exhaustion but for you, he'd do anything.

You smiled and pull him in for a sloppy kiss, "Thank you, pretty."

He loves that, loves when you smile, when you kiss him all sloppily, when you thank him, and especially when you praise him. He loves hearing those words fall out your mouth.

That "one more" turned into a couple more. "You said one more," he whimpered, tears spilling from his eyes. "This isn't o-one more.."

"I know baby..I'm sorry, fuck, this is the last one- ah! s-shit..I promise,"

"T-this better be the last one..please be the last one..please.."

He babbled in the crook of your neck, pleads spilling from his lips. Your hips stuttered for the nth time, cumming around his cock once again and panting in his ear.

"You know how I said that this was the last one?"

"Uh huh.."

"How about one more.."

"Nooo,"

"Please Carl, baby pleaseee,"

[scoops-aboy86]

Southern Hospitality

Prompt Used: aftercare (@steddiesmuttyseptember) and and fluff (@softsteddieseptember) | Southern Hospitality | Rating: M | CW: weight gain, belly kink, stuffing kink, belly play | Additional Tags: chubby steve harrington, fat steve harrington, feeder eddie munson, alcohol, referenced spanking, masturbation, food as a love language, hedonism, steve harrington has bad parents, brief nancy being tactless

Steve’s parents make an implied appearance here, but not enough to fully tag for. He probably shouldn’t have driven home but no way was he staying overnight with them, so sorry for the suggested driving home intoxicated. 

The fluff is in how Steve feels instantly better when he gets home, even though Eddie is asleep. 🥰 

Also this was first inspired by an ask that I’ll post in a minute and link here. Thank you September challenges for giving me the kick to work on this again!

It’s not that Steve didn’t know Eddie knew how to cook before they’d moved in together. He just hadn’t realized the sheer scale—or he’d thought Eddie didn’t realize, at first. That the whole “It’s bad luck to have leftovers, Stevie” was a smooth redirect to encouraging him to enjoy more, savor everything, again and again. Eddie is phenomenal in the kitchen so it’s not like it’s a hardship or anything. 

Maybe it’s a little bit that Steve is still smarting from Robin moving clear across the world for school, abandoning him. Far be it from him to actually voice any of those feelings… He’d just thought they were forever, you know? Platonic soulmates, attached at the hip for life. A bond that even some super cool P.h.D program in Europe couldn’t come between. She’d never asked him to come along, not even as a joke. But he’s not… He wouldn’t say that he’s hurt, it’s not her fault that he has a life and a boyfriend here tying him down. He just misses her like a lost limb is all. 

Maybe it’s because when Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle had swung through Indy for a visit, and Nancy had eyed him up and down saying, “You’ve, um, grown!” Which Jonathan had elbowed her for, and Eddie hadn’t even heard because he’d been in the other room getting everybody drinks. Argyle might not have even been paying attention because he’d immediately asked if anyone wanted some Purple Palm Tree Delight—which, to be fair, had soothed Steve’s ruffled feathers immensely. He might’ve better if Robin had been there too,  agreeing wordlessly with him that sure, maybe he has put on some weight, but that’s because he’s finally able to sleep through the night again and can stomach three homemade meals a day instead of being hung up on Upside Down trauma all the time. The trusty old nailbat that used to live in the trunk of his car, or sometimes under his bed, has been retired to a cobwebby corner of the garage. Why can’t Nancy just be glad for how far he’s come?

(She is, Steve knows. It was just a blip, though a prime example of why they probably wouldn’t have worked out even without all the Upside Down crap. And Nancy hadn’t apologized—for that, or anything else really but that’s water under the bridge—but she’d at least let it go. Which is a lot, for Nancy Wheeler, Investigative Journalist.)

Anyway, that had just been one night. One night, when every day Steve has Eddie. Wonderful Eddie who always kisses him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Who makes him breakfast, lunch, and dinner so he doesn’t have to worry about it, and doesn’t shy away from the unhealthy but delicious side of Southern cuisine. They have chicken and waffles once a week, with Steve absolutely soaking his in syrup. And the desserts—holy fucking christ, Eddie has so many recipes and they’re all stored seemingly endlessly in his brain, every one of them a winner. 

Whatever the reason, either the little stings or the healing balm of things going wonderfully in his relationship, Steve hasn’t bothered to note the signs. Overall, everything is fine. Why worry about anything when he’s so happy?

The sex they have after especially heavy meals have become Steve’s favorite; the kind where he’s left so full he almost doesn’t want to, could just as easily take a nap instead, but Eddie takes the time to tease him until he’s squirming, whining for it. Sometimes Steve plays up his reluctance a bit just to stretch things out even further, the thrum of anticipation in his veins and taste of good food and Eddie on his tongue. Sometimes he could swear that Eddie has extra hands because of the way he’s so comprehensively everywhere—buoying him up, holding him down, introducing him to pleasure after pleasure until Steve is spilling over with it and yet somehow Eddie still catches him, all of him. 

Though it’s funny… for someone who thinks leftovers are bad luck, Eddie always seems to prepare way too much food for two people. Steve has never been one to turn down a home cooked meal when he can get it so he always gamely does his best. It’s not like Eddie ever makes a big deal if he can’t finish, just sympathetically rubs his overtaxed stomach whenever he admits to being too full. 

And willingly hands him anything he changes his mind about if the rubbing soothes his burbling tummy enough. 

So yeah. Steve knows he’s gained some weight, but it doesn’t bother him. He’s happy, he’s healthy, and putting a relative value on his waistline would just be an exercise in manufacturing stress. He’s had enough of that shit to last a lifetime. 

The denial about just how much weight he’s gained lasts right up until a particularly long evening at his parents’ house. It’s one of those ‘social gathering’ things they like to do, basically a dinner party without calling it that. Steve only goes because there’s one last matter of his inheritance that he needs to clear up with his dad before he can basically cut ties with them indefinitely; he’s not there for the collection of eligible young ladies his mother has invited for the occasion, after all, and hadn’t even bothered passing along the half-hearted invitation to bring his ‘roommate’ along. Eddie hates these things almost as much as Steve, and has an early shift at the garage tomorrow anyway. 

The food is crap. He doesn’t bother telling his mom to fire the caterer, just drinks too much and goes home hungry despite making quick work of quite a few trays just for something to do between his lines in the mind-numbing small talk. Thinks he might’ve been rude to some of those poor girls whose only real fault was not being Eddie, but, oh well. At least now they won’t try to call. 

On the drive back to his and Eddie’s apartment, he cranks the windows and leaves them open the whole way in an attempt to sober up. It kind of works. 

~

Steve finally gets home around three in the morning, shuffling into the apartment, stripping out of his stupid formal clothes piece by piece and step by step as soon as the door shuts behind him. It’s expensive fabric, and it’ll wrinkle being thrown around like that—he doesn’t care. Had distantly registered hours ago that the suit was a little tight, even though he could’ve sworn the tailor at the dry cleaners had taken it out enough just last week. But, again, Steve doesn’t care. He’s distracted. 

His stomach is growling. He's down to nothing but his briefs and socks and he needs real food, not puff pastry appetizers with more air than filling or weird under-seasoned crap piled onto limp endives. Eddie is long asleep, but if he’s quiet…

Yes, jackpot. Steve leans into the glow spilling out the refrigerator door, scanning hungrily over the stacked Tupperware containers labeled with Eddie’s swooping, spidery handwriting and grins. Bad luck my ass. This is the best thing that’s happened to him all night. 

The only thing he bothers to put in the microwave is the gravy boat. Eddie’s gravy is so good hot he could literally drink it—can and has and will again—but the rest is good regardless of temperature. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself as he pulls a stack of containers out and starts popping lids. Pancakes and bacon and breakfast sausages from that morning, too eager to bother finding a fork and instead just popping each bite straight into his mouth with his fingers. Chicken salad from lunch, which he piles up between hefty slices of homemade bread and eats with one hand while fisting a beer in the other, eager to wash the taste of offensively expensive whiskey from the back of his tongue. Bite, swig, bite, swig, bite, swig… until he finishes the can with a muffled belch, crams the last bit of sandwich in his mouth, and sets himself back up with another of both. He can���t help it, Eddie’s food is so good, almost an acceptable substitute for the man’s presence. 

Almost. But Steve doesn’t want to wake him when he has an early day, so he’ll take what he can get. 

The microwave beeps, and the chicken salad is all gone so Steve redirects himself to fried chicken and gravy. Still not bothering with silverware, he dunks each piece straight into the boat and keeps having to lap up the gravy that drips down his fingers, his wrists, his arms. Wipes it from his face with the back of his hand and licks that up too with a little moan. Another beer, another few belches, and he has plenty of room left to empty the entire large container out. So fucking good—his tastebuds tingling, he barely takes the time to breathe between shoving more greedily past his lips. Steve loves leftovers actually, because they’re like bonus food. You don’t have to order it, or make it, or do anything other than get and eat. It’s perfect. Maybe that’s why Eddie always makes sure they have some after all, because he knows how much his sweetheart enjoys the extras at times like this. Eddie takes such good care of him…

Such good care, in fact, that behind all the Tupperware there is a pristine and exquisitely frosted cake. German chocolate, Steve’s favorite. His mouth waters, but. He’s not quite ready for dessert. 

First, he guzzles down the last of the gravy. It goes down thick and heavy, leaving him panting when he finishes and pleasantly aware of that heaviness in his stomach. The perfect antidote to a stuffy evening surrounded by pretentious assholes, he thinks, already feeling warm and hazy with the comfort of being full. And right back to the far side of tipsy now. 

Now it’s time for cake. He really doesn’t intend to eat the whole thing… He’s finally starting to approach his limit, for one thing. It’s better, easier to eat dressed down like this, because any of his pants would be digging into his middle by now. That happens enough lately that he’s kind of getting used to it, kind of uses it to gauge whether he should stop—but tonight he has no desire to even touch the brakes, not now that he’s gotten going. Not when it’s a delicious overload in all the best ways, even down to the smears of achingly sweet frosting and perfectly moist chocolate cake around his mouth as he works his way through slice after slice. 

Halfway through (not that he’s keeping track), he pauses to get the milk out of the fridge too. Instead of pouring a glass he puts the cardboard spout to his messy lips and pours it straight down his throat in sloppy gulps, desperate to wash it all down so he can fit more. More, because it’s all so good and his full stomach feels good and this has been practically all he could think about all through that stupid party that wasn’t called a party and celebrated nothing. None of those people know how to fucking live. 

And yeah, Steve is also vaguely aware that his belly juts out and sags over the waistband of his briefs, pushing them down in front. He knows he’s reaching the point of overfull where he has to stand differently, big round gut moving as a unit with every breath because it’s packed so tight. He leans back against the counter and finds it bumping into the softness of his back sooner than he expected. His entire midsection hangs, and he keeps absently touching it, smearing chocolate where it juts out at top as he tries to coax more burps out. He’s hit that wall where it’s kind of a slog to keep going, an endeavor, a challenge; he keeps going. Ironically, following the same competitive urges that had made him a decently successful high school athlete. 

Because he’s hungry all the time now, even when he’s full. Doesn’t give it too much thought that his belly has taken over for his brain: there’s food, he wants it, he’s eating it. Loves the flavors and textures, the act of chewing and swallowing, having something in his mouth at any opportunity. 

And then, finally, he reaches for more cake and finds only crumbs and frosting that he scrapes off the platter with still-greedy fingers. Grabs the partly empty milk container, a whole goddamn gallon, and goes to work gulping it down. Feels it settling into the last of the gaps and his tired knees go weak; he slides down the kitchen cabinets to plop heavily on the floor while he finishes. 

Or, almost. There’s still maybe a cup or so left when he finally throws in the towel, because he can taste it in the back of his throat with every strained swallow. 

Steve’s head lolls back, finally sated and bloated from all that dairy, his skin hot and stretched and thrumbing. He gingerly feels over the top of his belly and it’s tight, no give at all. But the rest of him…

Okay. Maybe he’s put on more than just a little weight. His belly rounds out before him so far that he can’t see his own lap, and as firm as it is on top it’s soft on the bottom, teardropping between his meaty thighs to kiss the cool linoleum floor. He slips a hand underneath and lifts, testing; drags his palm over the more-than-just-a-spare-tire spilling over his underwear and bulging out over the sides until his hand passes the widest point and it drops free with a jiggle that affects almost every part of him. Gives it a slap, to more jiggles and a bitten-off groan because it jars his stomach, but not in a bad way. Like when Eddie spanks him, something Steve sometimes has to go out of his way being bratty in order to earn, and there’s pain but following it is a warm rush that makes his jaw drop and cock twitch. 

Like it’s doing now, and Steve realizes suddenly that he can’t reach it. His big, wide, doughy belly is in the way, too stuffed for him to comfortably manhandle out of the way. Too heavy to lug his weight off the floor. Too glutted to care, even as he rocks into the hang of his own fat, pressing wherever he finds provides a little extra pressure against his weak grinding. The fabric of his briefs, he realizes, is wet through with how much he’s leaking, as if his full stomach is pressing directly on the pleasure centers of his brain, a satisfaction so complete that it’s already got him halfway to the edge. 

And that’s how Eddie finds him, smeared with the evidence of his late-night-early-morning snack and breathing so heavily he’s practically moaning. Lazily humping his fat—because he is, Steve’s gotten fat and it feels so fucking good. He’d ignored all the signs because he hadn’t wanted to slow down. Still doesn’t want to, not ever. Indulging feels too amazing. 

Eddie finds him just in time to catch the finale, all of Steve shaking and quivering as he reaches his peak. Comes so hard in his briefs that it seeps between his thighs where they try to rub together on one final, savoring squirm. Bows forward a bit, but hiccups weakly between shallow gasps and sags back against the cabinets when it puts too much pressure on his distended gut. Heaving to catch his breath, blasted out of his mind on pleasure, floating but so decadently heavy at the same time. 

When Eddie comes to him, kneeling down and cupping his pudgy, chocolate-smeared cheek in one hand, Steve can’t even process what he’s saying. It’s like the adults in Charlie Brown, all wah-wah-wah or whatever. Instead of trying to make sense of it, he turns his head slightly and mouths at his boyfriend’s thumb. He sucks the whole thing into his mouth as soon as Eddie lets him and immediately wants more. 

He always wants more these days. It’s like he can’t stop. Even though he knows Eddie has work in the morning and should be sleeping, feels kinda bad that he must have woken him up, he’s by no means disappointed to see the man. 

“N-need you,” he manages between gasps and hiccups. Each of the latter is like another slap, or maybe a squeeze—something hard and fast, whatever it is, like a spanking but like. An internal one. He’s already twitching, starting to get hard again. 

What he wants is Eddie to fuck him, but there’s no way he’s moving right now. Instead, Eddie pulls himself out of his sweatpants and tucks the front of them behind his balls, lazily fisting his cock at about the level of Steve’s panting mouth. And oh, he thinks, starting to drool a little, even better. He licks his plump lips, groaning at the sweet smears of chocolate that light up his taste buds, then lets his tongue loll out in invitation. 

He’s willing to beg for it if he has to. 

Because Steve has gone beyond wanting—he needs Eddie’s cock. It’s all he can think about as Eddie nudges against his wet tongue, smearing his blushing cockhead until all Steve can taste is  that familiar, musky bitterness. Needs to be filled even more, really unhinge his jaw and let everything Eddie cares to give him go straight down his throat just like all the rest. Whines around him when Eddie finally pushes in properly, sucking and licking and nibbling. Grabbing clumsily for Eddie’s hands so he can move them to dig into his hair. It’s already a mess, just like the rest of him. 

A moaning, quivering, empty-headed mess. 

And it feels so good. 

~

Steve comes back to himself some time later, smacking his lips absently and rubbing both hands over his swollen middle with a pleased sigh when he feels clean, recently lotioned skin. His throat feels rough, but no more sore than his jaw. 

He barely remembers Eddie cleaning him up with a series of warm, damp kitchen towels after they finished, murmuring a steady commentary on how flattering it is that Steve likes his food so much. His underwear’s gone, and the dip of the bed beneath his ass is a lot more forgiving and comfortable than the kitchen floor. Fuck, he must’ve been seriously blissed out to not even remember climbing the stairs like this, so stuffed that he aches. 

Working at the mechanic shop has really been paying off for Eddie to get him upstairs in that state, Steve thinks with a pleasant shudder. 

When he lifts his head, he can’t see over his domed, still quivering belly at all and that—

“How come you didn’t tell me I got fat?” Steve asks, slurs a bit, not sure if it’s because of the alcohol in his system or how wholly, blissfully sated he feels. He rubs hands over himself, grabbing and pawing and even slapping a little, transfixed by the idea of achieving perpetual motion, of leaving a handprint somewhere he can’t even see without the help of a mirror. 

Eddie’s hand joins his, a fingertip circling idly around his navel. Little electric jolts of pleasure roll through Steve whenever his boyfriend’s callouses from years of playing guitar rasp against the rim of his increasingly sunken belly button, nudging him towards another hard-on until he’s squirming from something so simple. 

“You really didn’t know?” Eddie murmurs, sounding amused. 

Steve burps, moans, shrugs. “Mm—sort of. Not really. Don’t care, though. Feels good. Your food is the best, Eds, I could eat it all day.”

A Cheshire grin spreads across Eddie’s face, but all he says is, “Thanks, sweetheart.” He doesn’t need to comment on the fact that Steve often does spend all day eating his cooking. That the excesses have started to paint red stretch marks on Steve’s belly and thighs—some of which Steve has found with his fingertips and is stroking, not concerned but definitely curious. 

“It’s like that new thing Robin keeps telling me about,” Steve continues dreamily. (There’s always a new thing for his best friend to talk his ear about whenever she calls, chattering fast to avoid wrecking complete havoc on their phone bill.) “About love languages? Like, how you show it to other people and how you want to hear it back… I think your love language might be food, baby.”

Because he’d come back from his parents’ house starving, and now he’s so blissfully full of his boyfriend’s cooking he’s had two orgasms about it, lazily contemplating a third. So that sounds about right, as metaphors or whatever go. 

“Making it, sure,” Eddie agrees, still teasing his belly button and eliciting the occasional shiver or gassy burp. “What’s yours?”

Steve grins beatifically and shifts to spread his legs, feeling over the lowest curve of his belly. He’s aware now that he’s had it, that he’s been big for a while; doesn’t know how he hadn’t quite realized before tonight, because the way his own body gives and squishes and springs back as he explores his fatness is electrifying, all-encompassing

Tomorrow he’ll track down a scale and see how much he’s gained. Maybe do some clothes shopping before his next shift, size up his wardrobe as needed. Most likely get more groceries. They’ll definitely talk about this: both Steve’s not so little journey of self-discovery tonight and how on board Eddie already is with it. 

For now, because he doesn’t remember the official love languages Robin had told him about, Steve just says, “Pretty sure mine is eating it and then wanting you to fuck my brains out. I know you have to be up early, but—”

Eddie growls deep in his throat, lunging for the lube in the nightstand drawer before shoving Steve’s thick thighs further apart and planting himself in between—exactly where they both want him. 

Permanent tag list (ask to be added/removed): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

[doumadono]

Sinful Sunday thought!

I believe that Geto Suguru is exactly the type of guy that, by the time you tell him ‘I love you’, starts fucking you harder. I don’t know🫣

I need to agree with you, Nonnie, I strongly belive it would make him going feral!

SINFUL SUNDAY

Geto's anything but gentle

Whenever you fuck, it's rough and hard. It's the kind of sex involving hair-pulling, skin-biting, and fast-paced fucking

You’ll fuck basically anywhere, on any surface, up against any wall

It's a relentless thrusting that doesn't let up until you're a whimpering wreck beneath him

Geto's possessive - he marks you with love bites, making sure everyone is aware that you belong to him. He doesn't mind who witnesses it - he's determined to proclaim to the world that you are exclusively his

He has a very high sex drive and can go for multiple rounds

He loves having a hand around your throat as he fucks you, he loves to feel the blood rushing under his hand

But what truly arouses him is when you express your love for him verbally, which never fails to excite him immensely

"I love you," you whimper softly as he thrusts into you during a very slow, passionate sex

He pauses, gazes down at you, and a mischievous grin slowly spreads across his lips

“I’m gonna pound ya so good, ya hear me? I want you to tell me how much you want it, how much you want me.”

Geto lifts up your thigh for better access to thrust deeper into you, digging his fingers into your plushy flesh, thrusting hard and fast, the bed starts swaying back and forth with his thrusts

“I’m going to fill you to the brim, doll."

His words become more jumbled as his flesh continues to vehemently smack against yours, your pussy tightening against his rapidly moving dick as your orgasm washes over you, his following not long after

[allastoredeer]

I'm curious if you planning to write NSFW fic(s) yourself? Your gen fics are amazing and it would be interesting to read 18+ in your style 😏

Hehehehe oh contraire mon frère, I have already written several NSFW fics 😎

This is Going to End in Disaster, Babe Wake Up, It's Pumpkin Spice Season, Misfire, Wade Wilson's Guide to Studying Your Spider (Spider-Man/Deadpool)

Lizard Brain (Spider-Man/Lizard)

Shaping Beskar, Gratitude (Mandalorian - Boba Fett/Din Djarin, Paz Vizla/Din Djarin)

And those are just the ones with the smut already written, I have a few that are going to have smut, I just haven't gotten to that part of the story yet. And these are the ones that just involve sex, not the darker themes that also fall under NSFW. (Except for "Shaping Beskar" that one DEFINITELY falls under the dark category)

But as for Hazbin Hotel, yes! I will be writing NSFW, for both "Just Kiss Already" and a few other wips I have in mind. I have quite a few of them planned out, actually. With various ships. It's just a matter of getting to them.

And I am very excited to get to them ( ▀ ͜͞ʖ▀)

[strangersatellites]

pride, envy, wrath, sloth, gluttony, greed, ao3

Seven Deadly Sins Series (NSFW 18+)

lust (noun) - a shortcut to sexual fulfillment, but it doesn’t actually get you there. When you lust after someone, you are objectifying that person for your own selfish pleasure. 

The summer heat beats down with a strength that must rival that straight out of Hell, Eddie thinks. 

The thermometer Wayne keeps on the porch outside reading somewhere between ninety degrees and the devil’s asscrack and Eddie can feel all of it. 

Sweat rolling down his spine even where he’s sat in the shade, sunglasses and baseball cap on and a glass of ice water pressed to the back of his neck. 

You couldn’t pay him enough money to set foot in the grass, to feel the sun hit his skin and start burning it instantly.

The only thing keeping him even outside is Steve. 

Steve who is washing his car like it's the most important job he’ll ever have. He’s paying attention to details that Eddie’s never even noticed, let alone noticed were clean.

But that’s not what Eddie’s paying attention to anyway is it?

No. There might be one thing in the steamy July air that is hotter than the sun, and it's the thoughts running through Eddie’s head. There’s nothing cool about those. 

See, Eddie’s covered in a layer of grime and his hair has gone frizzy and he’s sprawled across the couch in a way he knows makes him look less like a man and more like a deflated balloon.

But despite the heat, Steve looks like a vision.

He’s got on a tight little pair of cut-off shorts that do absolute wonders for his thighs. 

He’s ripped the sleeves off and cropped one of Eddie’s old band shirts, a white one at that, and Eddie’s eyes can trail all the way from his shoulder to his happy trail, view unobstructed. 

He’s got his hair pushed back with a pair of sunglasses that started on his eyes but were apparently hindering his vision too much. Whatever. Eddie’s not complaining. He looks sexy with his hair pushed back.

It started out innocent enough. With Eddie mentally making a note to tell him he looks cute the next time he’s close enough to the porch.

But that was before he took a break from scrubbing to douse himself under the hose. 

Because now Eddie’s old, white band shirt is stuck to his skin like glue. Like it was painted on just for him. Eddie loves Steve’s strong arms, he does. But he’s never going to pass up an opportunity to watch the way the muscles in his back ripple under his skin. The “Metallica” stretched across his shoulders is just icing on the cake.

When faced with the wrath of the sun, Eddie’s skin turns pink and tender. But Steve goes a beautiful warm golden and his freckles seem to multiply. 

Right now Eddie’s eyes are glued to Steve’s legs. The way his muscles go taut when he squats down to scrub at his hubcaps. If he squints hard enough against the harsh afternoon light, Eddie can almost make out the indentions of his own teeth on the underside of his thigh. The fading purple bruise he’d sucked into soft skin, sweaty for an entirely different reason. 

He thinks of the way he’s made those strong legs tremble and shake. The way he’s had them wrapped around his waist, his head. 

Steve shifts and sits on the grass, leans back on both of his hands and throws his head back with a sigh. Eddie’s gaze gets redirected to the shirt clinging to his chest, his soft, but still strong tummy. 

He wants to lick his collarbones and leave bruises on his neck. More bruises, that is. There’s already a few mottled across his skin because Eddie just can’t help himself. How could he? How could anybody help themselves with Steve in their lap whimpering their name like a prayer? Eddie gave up trying to hold back a long time ago. 

When his eyes come back into focus Steve is stretching to reach across his windshield, back muscles stretched long and strong. If Eddie closes his eyes he can imagine the feeling of the welts he’d left across his skin. Claw marks drug all the way down his back. Can almost imagine the feeling that elicited them. The groan he’d pulled out of his boy in turn. 

Eddie snaps his eyes open and is met with Steve’s lazy smile looking his way and he really can’t be blamed for the heat it sends dipping into his stomach and the strained huff he grits out. 

The way Steve throws his head back again, this time in a laugh at Eddie’s distress, doesn’t help his case. 

It gets the worst though, when Steve sets to detailing the hood. 

Now he’s got his back directly facing Eddie. He’s bent over at the waist, hips popped back and his spine dipped low and Eddie’s not a praying man, he’s not. 

But he’s about to send up one of gratitude because sometimes he can hardly believe Steve’s his. 

And Eddie’s not stupid. He knows Steve’s onto him. He knows because he’d laughed. Because he’s peeking over his shoulder every few seconds to see if Eddie’s eyes are still on him. He knows because he’s tugged his little shorts up enough that the crease of his ass and his thighs sits right below the frayed denim hem. 

There might’ve been a time where Eddie would’ve tried valiantly to redirect his train of thought. To stop himself from making a fool of himself. But now Steve’s his boyfriend. And Steve knows Eddie’s thinking about getting him naked more often than he’s not these days. He’s just as bad. 

So Eddie lets himself sink into it. Into the visions of the bounce of Steve’s cheeks when Eddie smacks him. Of the tiny freckle just shy of his hole and how he loves to sink his teeth around it. The tiny heart tattoo on the back of his right hip that Steve totally should not have let Eddie give him, but they both love nonetheless.  

He thinks about the way his normally strong voice, breaks and goes soft when Eddie fucks him. The way he squirms when he rides Eddie’s face. 

The goosebumps that break out across his skin on the comedown and his glassy eyes and soft smile. 

His eyes are wide open but he’s so lost in the memory of his boy’s ass pulled against his hips that he misses when Steve stops washing his car and climbs the steps of the porch. Doesn’t see him until he feels his weight drop down across his lap and hears Steve ask what he’s thinking about in a sultry whisper.

So Eddie really doesn’t feel all that bad about his thoughts burning hotter than the summer sun when he says, “Nothing, baby. Just you.”