#the way my tummy flipped reading this 😵‍💫😵‍💫💞

[thornsnvultures]

I NEEDDD more of Eddie calling witchy his high priestess 😍😍😍😍😝😝😝

oh what, like this, anon?

SMUTTY SMUT UNDER THE CUT MINORS GO AWAY PLS

sub!eddie, pegging

"Who do you pray to, pretty boy?" you grit out, every thrust of your hips has the boy laying splayed on the bed under you wailing in pleasure.

He's breathless, he moves his hips along with the undulated movement of your yours, hair fanned out and sweaty. You'd find the purple glittered plastic thrusting into your boyfriend a bit silly if the sight under you wasn't so captivating.

He hums, a particularly harsh thrust has you seeing the whites of his eyes as he whines "fuck, you witchy" he pants. Eddie licks his lips, tasting the remainder of whatever trace of you is left on his lips, the smell of you inundating his senses.

His nose, lips, mouth and cheeks are coated in it, and his brain is coated in the memory of you grinding against his lips, falling apart over him. And now he's getting the reward he sought after the whole day. To let go, to pray to you like the statuesque goddess that you are.

A slap awakens him, straight on his sweaty cheek, coming back from the haze of his memories.

"That's not who I am, is that right, baby?" you hum, low and sensuous and you can see his cock jump in between your bodies, leaking all over himself, turning into a messy puddle of sex and love and feelings. Feelings just for you.

He shakes his head, plump lip captured in between his teeth, and he can almost feel the wet of a tear at the corner of his eye, letting it fall as you thrust into him with an even stronger force.

The noises you've heard him let out tonight as the rain pours against your decorated windows are something in the likeness of a chant. A song that sings just for you, as you run your fingers along his ruddy tip, just to see him squirm and whine.

"Who am I, then?" you taunt him, pulling your chest closer to his, as he begins to grind his hips upward, your stomach providing for some delicious friction against his cock, as you reach around his neck and pull at his sweaty curls, looking at the whiny boy under you.

Big and strong and demanding, a sweaty mess under you, gripping at the sheets, at whatever he could find, touching your back, sending a shiver down the length of your body, feline and smooth in its movements against the candlelight of your room.

"My high priestess" he moans, and you swear you can hear him tighten around you.