#baby keepsake box

[dvbabybracelet]

The Perfect Christening Gift: Personalized Baby Bangles and Bracelets

A christening is a momentous occasion, marking the beginning of a child's spiritual journey. It's a time for celebration, family gatherings, and finding the perfect gift to commemorate the day. If you're searching for a thoughtful and timeless present, personalized baby bangles and bracelets make exceptional choices. Here’s why these beautiful pieces of jewellery are the ideal christening gift and some tips on how to choose the perfect one.

Why Personalized Baby Bangles and Bracelets?

1. A Keepsake to Cherish: Personalized baby bangles and bracelets are not just accessories; they are keepsakes that will be treasured for years to come. These pieces of jewellery can be kept as mementoes of the christening day, carrying sentimental value as the child grows older.

2. Unique and Thoughtful: Adding a personal touch, such as engraving the baby’s name, initials, or the date of the christening, makes the gift unique. It shows thoughtfulness and care, making it clear that you’ve put effort into choosing something special.

3. High Quality and Durability: Baby bangles and bracelets are often made from high-quality materials like sterling silver or gold, ensuring they are durable and long-lasting. These precious metals are hypoallergenic, making them safe for a baby’s delicate skin.

4. A Symbol of Blessings: Jewellery has long been a symbol of blessings and good wishes. By gifting a personalized bangle or bracelet, you're bestowing your blessings upon the child, hoping for their health, happiness, and prosperity.

Choosing the Perfect Personalized Baby Bangle or Bracelet

When selecting a personalized baby bangle or bracelet, consider the following factors to ensure you choose the perfect gift:

1. Material: Opt for materials that are gentle on a baby’s skin. Sterling silver and gold are popular choices due to their hypoallergenic properties and timeless appeal. Silver bangles often symbolize purity and new beginnings, making them especially fitting for a christening.

2. Size and Adjustability: Babies grow quickly, so it's important to choose a bangle or bracelet that can be adjusted to fit as they grow. Many baby bangles come with an adjustable clasp or a design that can expand, ensuring the child can wear the jewellery for several years.

3. Personalization Options: Decide on how you want to personalize the bangle or bracelet. Common options include engraving the baby’s name, initials, birth date, or the date of the christening. Some jewellers also offer the option to add small charms or birthstones for an extra touch of personalization.

4. Design: Choose a design that is both beautiful and suitable for a baby. Simple and elegant designs are often the best, avoiding anything too bulky or intricate that might be uncomfortable for a baby to wear. Classic designs with a smooth finish are ideal, ensuring they are safe and comfortable.

5. Presentation: Consider the presentation of the gift. Many personalized baby bangles and bracelets come in beautiful gift boxes or pouches, adding an extra touch of elegance. You might also want to include a heartfelt note or a christening card to accompany the gift.

Where to Buy Personalized Baby Bangles and Bracelets

Finding the perfect personalized baby bangle or bracelet is easier than ever with many online and high street jewellers offering a wide range of options. Here are a few tips on where to look:

1. Online Jewellers: Websites like Etsy, Not On The High Street, and specialized jewellers offer a vast selection of customizable baby bangles and bracelets. These platforms allow you to browse various designs and personalization options from the comfort of your home.

2. High Street Jewellers: Local jewellers often carry a selection of baby jewellery and can provide personalized engraving services. Visiting a high street jeweller gives you the advantage of seeing the jewellery in person and ensuring it meets your expectations.

3. Specialised Baby Boutiques: Some boutiques that specialize in baby gifts offer personalized jewellery options. These stores often carry unique designs that are perfect for christenings and other special occasions.

Conclusion

A personalized baby bangle or bracelet is a perfect christening gift that combines thoughtfulness, elegance, and timeless appeal. By choosing a high-quality, customizable piece of jewellery, you’re giving a gift that will be cherished for a lifetime. Whether you opt for sterling silver or gold, a simple design or one adorned with charms, the personal touch you add will make it a truly memorable gift. Celebrate the special day with a gift that symbolizes your blessings and best wishes for the child's future.

[nebulouswinds]

taking the opportunity to do some inner child healing. found my baby & she still works/is in pretty good condition. got her swaddled abd am just holding her

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Smile, we're on the camera

max verstappen x reader

Content warnings: unprotected sex (p-in-v), rough sex, dirty talk, language, public sex,..

my masterlist

“Here?!” you screeched. 

“Yeah.” Max shrugged, unfazed. “What’s wrong with that?” 

You choked on your own spit at his nonchalance, how carefree he was about this. “W—What do you mean what’s wrong with fucking here, Max? We’re in a damn photo booth!” 

The blank expression on his face was unchanging. “So?” 

The words on the tip of your tongue died out. Your boyfriend could be a little freaky in the bedroom sometimes and you were all for it. Never had you both risked the danger of public sex, however. 

"So?" you sputter, eyes wide in disbelief. "Don't you have any decency, any boundaries?!" Max's stoic face only serves to enrage you further. "Fine, if that's how you want to play it,"

Max slammed his arm against the opposing wall, effectively blocking your path of going out of the photo booth.

 “We’re not leaving until I’ve fucked you.” 

A shudder of arousal ran down your spine at the gruffness of his voice. “Baby,” you laughed nervously. “I know we like to experiment sometimes, but this is a little far, don’t you think?” 

The air between you was thick with tension, especially with a pair of bright blue eyes staring you down so intensely you imagined the burning embers of a fire raging behind them. 

You gulped as Max slowly licked his lips, giving you a once-over that made you feel too exposed in an already revealing sundress. There was a short distance between you, and your boyfriend’s stature was towering and beefy, taking up a large presence — his imposing nature made the hairs on your arms stand up. 

He walked you backwards slowly, step by step until you hit the far wall of the booth. Pressing his nose against the curve of your neck, he snarled. “All I know is that my cock is so fuckin’ hard for you right now and if I don’t have your pussy wrapped around it within the next thirty seconds, I’m gonna haul you over my shoulder and take you out there in front of the whole damn mall.” 

A shiver ran down your spine at his menacing words, your body instinctively pressing back against the cold metal wall of the photo booth as Max's muscular frame loomed over you. The heat of his breath on your neck, the raw intensity in his voice - it was intoxicating and terrifying all at once. You can feel the hardness of his muscular chest through the thin fabric of your dress, as his hands gently but with confident grip move up from your thighs. They slide around to cup your ass, pulling you even closer against him.

You thought you could tamp down the moan trapped in your throat, but you were sorely mistaken when it unleashed without remorse. Your chest heaved with exhilaration and your fingers twitched excitedly at the prospect of something so scandalous. 

“So what’s it gonna be, Liefje? In this photo booth with a little privacy? Or out there where everyone can watch me ruin you? Your choice.”

You had not expected this outcome when you had dragged your boyfriend over to the booth. You wanted to take cute pictures and add them to your keepsake memory box. Now you were deciding your fate; whether you would be leaving your dignity in the tiny stall or chance getting arrested for public indecency in the middle of the shopping mall. 

Max raised an eyebrow, awaiting your answer. 

“In h—here,” you whispered in anticipation. 

The cheshire cat grin you received in return spiked your nerves even further. “Bingo.” 

Without giving you a chance to backtrack on your decision, Max hoisted you up into his arms and smothered your squeal of shock with his lips. He wasted no time snaking his tongue into your mouth, fighting for dominance like always. 

“Mmph!” you moaned when he flicked his tongue against yours. A zing of electricity shot down to your pussy and you threaded your fingers through his hair, trying to grab a hold of it tightly. 

“Maxie, I swear to God, if you ever cut your hair short again I will leave you then and there.”

Max chuckles against your lips, the vibration sending a shiver down your body. "I wouldn't dream of it, love," he murmurs, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down your jaw and neck, all the while keeping you lifted in his arms.

Even after so many years, the spark between you and Max was still alive. Throughout the trysts of your sexual experiences together, the attraction to each other had only intensified. He was sexier now than ever before. And even if he came up with outlandish ideas that made you step out of your comfort zone, you held so much trust in him that it was easy to follow him to the depths of sin. 

He continues to pepper kisses along your collarbone, his warm breath sending goosebumps down your arms as he makes his way to the sensitive spot just above your breasts. Your nipples ache in response, and you arch your back, pressing your chest against his.

“Hold on,” he warned before handling your weight over to one arm. With the other, he unzipped the fly of his trousers and shuffled them down just past his ass until his cock bounced out. 

You gasped at the sight. Max really was hard for you already, if the angry-looking vein straining from his thick length was anything to go by. He was throbbing, you could see his dick viciously twitching with need and your thighs clenched around his waist with hunger. 

The sight of Max, so clearly overwhelmed with desire for you, was indeed a powerful aphrodisiac. The way his throbbing member twitched with need only served to fuel your own desire, your thighs clenching around him in response.

Max's hand finally made contact with your skin, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His fingers traced a path up your side, causing you to shiver with anticipation. "You're enjoying this, aren't you, Liefde?"

You tightened your lips to try and hide your smile and shrugged innocently. “Can’t say I mind it so much.” 

His hand reached your breast, cupping it possessively as he squeezed the soft flesh through the fabric of your clothes. "You're so responsive to me," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "I can feel how hard your nipples are, even through the thin fabric of your top.

The amusement was quick to wipe from your face when he reached down and ripped the panties covering your mound. “Max!” you scolded. “Those were new!” 

Your heart raced as Max's fingers hooked into the waistband of your new, now destroyed lingerie, effortlessly peeling the delicate fabric away from your heated skin. The cool air of the small photo booth  caressed your exposed lower half, a stark contrast to the burning desire that seemed to radiate from the man holding you.

He rolled his eyes playfully, trying not to laugh at the way the shredded material now hung from your ankle. “Oh, hush. I’ll buy you some more.” 

You huffed. “What? So you can rip them off me again?” 

Max chucked under your chin condescendingly. “Look at you, learning so fast.”

Smug bastard, you cursed internally. 

“Gonna stop complaining and let me fuck you now, mijn kleine meid.?” 

You scowled and poked his chest with your finger. “You better watch the way you speak to me— OH!” The retort on your tongue cut off as Max sheathed the entirety of his length inside of your pussy in one smooth thrust. Your nails dug harshly into the firm muscle of his shoulders and you buried your head into his neck. “H—Holy shit.”

The sudden surge of pleasure that coursed through you at Max's forceful thrust stole your breath away. Your back arched instinctively, pushing yourself harder onto him. The roughness of his actions, the sound of his breath hitching, it was all too intoxicating.

Max's hands roamed your body, gripping your hips, pulling you closer, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin. His thrusts became more urgent, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you with each movement. The feeling of him inside you, filling you completely, was almost overwhelming.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as Max's pace quickened. Sweat dripped from his forehead, onto your skin, as he lost himself in the sensations. The air was thick with tension, heavy with anticipation, as you both hurtled towards the edge of a shattering climax. "Max...

The nails of his fingers dug crescent shapes into your bare thighs, but the sting of pain was nothing compared to the slow drag of his cock leaving your cunt. You whimpered as his thick girth left you inch by inch until only the tip sat inside of you. 

“Gonna beg me for it, baby?” he asked. 

"Please," you whimpered, not even realizing the word had escaped your lips. Max's grin was wolfish as he began to ease out completely, just the head of his cock nestled against your entrance. He rocked back and forth, teasing you with the promise of returning to your warmth.

“My baby is so polite. Come on, tell me, Liefde, what do you need and I’ll gladly give it to you.”

"Please, Max," you managed to gasp, the desperation clear in your voice. The denial was torture, the touch and then the swift removal driving you crazy with need. "Please, fuck me, fill me up again."

He shrugged. “Good enough.” 

A high pitched keen was forced out of you when Max thrusted his hips up, his dick sat deep inside of your pussy. “Fuck!”  

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, needing him to touch every part of you. Max obliged, grinding against you with a primal intensity, his hips slapping against your thighs. "Take it, baby," he growled, his voice raw with lust. "Take every inch of my cock."

Your boyfriend’s eyes shone with pride. “That’s my girl.”

Max fucked like it was the first time every time. His movements were careful and his hands were greedy; always touching you, always gathering you as close as possible to him. And while he was soft with his caresses, his desire to roughly pound his cock into your cunt, as deep as it humanely could, was another story. 

“God, you’re like a fuckin’ vice around my dick,” he choked out. “Would’ve thought you’d have loosened up by now, baby. But I can still barely move.” 

Unable to speak without screaming, you sucked his neck, bruising his skin until it turned a dark purple. 

“You markin’ me, huh? Want everybody to know who I belong to?” 

You nodded your head while whimpering, the nails of your fingers scratching against Max’s scalp. 

Max's eyes rolled back, his pupils constricting as he groaned, his fingers digging into your hips. The sound of his ragged breathing and the wet slapping of his cock against your pussy filled the air. The motion of his thrusts made his balls slap against your ass — he loved it when you got possessive. “Filthy fuckin’ girl. Don’t worry, Liefde. I’m all yours.”

Letting go of his neck with a pop, you loudly whined out, “So good— cock feels so good in me, baby. Fucking me just right.”

“Oh, I know. But you gotta turn down the volume, Liefje,” he chuckled. “Save it for the bedroom, alright?” 

You tried, you really did. But the way the head of his cock repeatedly stroked against the sensitive spongy spot of your pussy made your inhibitions blurry and you couldn’t help moaning like a whore.

Max tutted and shook his head in mock disapproval. “Guess I have to do everything for you, hm?” His lips curled up in perverse satisfaction as he shoved three of his fingers into your mouth. 

You hummed around them instantly while staring into his eyes. He made you this way; a willing body for him to toy with, a woman who was quick to fall under his command and you lived for it. You gargled around his large fingers as you jolted each time he drove his cock into you, drool dripping down from your chin and landing on your boyfriend’s lower stomach and dick. 

“Can’t even let my fingers keep you quiet, huh? Just have to make sure everyone knows how good it feels to be fucked by me.” 

You sucked on his fingers, your eyes half-lidded with desire as he began to take control. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and trailed them down your body, tracing a path from your lips to your breasts, down your stomach, and finally to the apex of your thighs.

His fingers danced around your clit, teasing you mercilessly before he slowly slid them back inside you, plunging deep to stroke that sweet spot once more. You whimpered, your body trembling with pleasure as he bit gently on your earlobe. "You're going to come for me, baby?"

His strength only turned you on more and even with the intrusion of his fingers, your noises grew louder, more unabashed. 

“Shit, you sound so pretty.” His eyes darted towards the swinging panties still attached to your ankle and he quickly removed his fingers to grab them. “Such a good girl for me, baby. But I think we need somethin’ a little more efficient to quiet my eager girl down.” 

Before you had the chance to whimper again, Max shoved your underwear into your mouth. To both of your luck, your moans became muffled enough to not draw attention. “Perfect.”

Though the volume of your sounds had been solved, the slick noises coming from your dripping cunt became the center of attention. Max groaned, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple as he fought the urge to thrust deeper. "Fuck, babe, you're so tight... so goddamn wet." He grunted, trying to maintain control.

“Mhm!” you mumbled over your makeshift gag. Your worries of being caught had long disappeared, your main focus now to revel in the building tension from your lower stomach creeping to the surface. 

The two of you were only concealed by a pathetic thin curtain that didn’t even close all the way. It left a large gap, one that should a member of the public managed to notice, would reveal Max’s bare ass and your scrunched up face, moaning in pleasure at the feel of his cock. 

Again, you were so far out of your realm to notice. Though Max did as he glanced over his shoulder and the high he got from the danger was addictive. 

Wrapping an arm around you tightly, Max discreetly reached into his jean pocket with his free hand while keeping up his momentum. He was so close to the edge, balancing on the precipice of cumming, but he strived to hold on just a little longer. 

Grabbing the loose change, he discreetly dispensed it into the money slot of the machine. “You think you’re gonna cum for me, baby?” he asked, short-windedly while his thighs trembled. 

You whined desperately around your panties, your eyes glossy from the overwhelming thread that was beginning to unravel. 

“Alright. I’m gonna count down from three and you’re gonna give it to me, yeah? Can you do that for me?” 

Thumping your head back against the wall, you closed your eyes and nodded hastily. 

“Good. Ready, Liefde?” he asked. 

Your nails scratched the back of his neck in approval and he began. 

“Three.” He pistoned his hips, fucking you with all the energy he had left in him. 

“Two.” The deep dirty grind of cock into your cunt was torturing and your thighs shook as you fought to hold out. 

“One.” On his final count, Max pinched your clit, hard. Your eyes shot wide open at the same time multiple bright flashes blanketed the photo booth and your mouth dropped on a muted scream. 

“Holy— F—Fuck!” Your boyfriend’s shout echoed across the white walls while his fist slammed next to your head. A huge load of his cum shot up into your cunt, overflowing the already full hole. 

Your mind swam in ecstasy from the adrenaline-filled haze of your orgasm. The pure rush of your sparking nerves was a familiar thing with Max and yet the sensation was so deeply gratifying every single time. 

You sucked in lungfuls of air on your comedown, letting your mouth hang open while your ruined panties dropped with a wet slap onto the floor. Shivers wracked through your body and before you could even notice the coldness, Max enveloped his warm body around you while he stroked your cheek. 

“That’s it,” he cooed soothingly while he recovered from his own intense orgasm. “Take it easy, baby.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you until there was no space between you. “That was fun,” you slurred lazily.

Max’s tired laugh rumbled through you. “Damn fuckin’ right it was.” Lifting his head out of your neck, he kissed you delicately. “You alright?” 

“I’m great,” you told him truthfully. “Though you may have to help me walk because I can’t feel my legs anymore.” 

He grinned, satisfied. “I’m that good, huh?” 

You lightly smacked his chest, even if you couldn’t contain your own cheesy smile. “Nope. I’m not inflating your ego more than it already is.” Turning your head to the screen of the booth, your eyes widened at what you saw. “No, you did not.” 

“Oh, but I did,” Max said proudly. “A little souvenir of our sexual awakening.” 

“Oh my god.” The shock of it rendered you speechless. 

“I know, right? Now you have the photos you wanted.” 

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Looking back at your boyfriend, you shook your head. “I wish I could tell you off.” 

“You can tell me I’m a bad boy later,” he suggested with a wink. “For now let's get outta here.” 

Once he gently placed you down, making sure you were steady on your feet, the two of you sorted yourselves; tidying the mess of your sex hair and straightening the wrinkles out of your clothes. Max made sure to pocket your panties from the floor, leaving no evidence of your fun. 

“Come on, you.” He lightly slapped your ass before ripping the curtain open. “We’ve still got some shopping to do.” He stepped out, whistling to himself like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless and held his hand out for you to take. 

“You want to go shopping while your cum is literally leaking down my legs as we speak?” you hissed as heat crept up your neck from the thought. 

Max leaned his shoulder against the booth and smirked. “Well, we do have to buy you some new underwear. Remember, doll?” 

You so desperately wanted to smack the self-satisfied grin off his face. 

With a huff, you exited the photo booth, begrudgingly sliding your hand into Max’s. Before you left to continue your shopping, however, he plucked the Polaroids from the outside dispenser.

Your boyfriend admired the photos, each one a debauched image of you with heavy, hooded eyes with your mouth hung open on a scream. 

“You look good on camera, baby.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “We should make a film next.” 

Trying to clench your thighs together to keep his cum from dripping down your leg, you swatted his arm. “Pfft—you wish.” 

[thevillainswhore]

You Look Good On Camera, Baby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Bucky’s not letting you leave the photobooth, not until he’s had his way with you.

Warnings: Established relationship, teasing, kissing, smut, public sex, p in v, quickie, finger sucking, uses panties to keep reader quiet, creampie.

Author’s note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics by @rookthorne

Aaand all of a sudden we have another oneshot. Sigh. This one has actually been on my mind since these pictures were first released so a big thank you to Lana for finally giving me the push to make it happen 🤭 really enjoyed this one 🤍

“Here?!” you screeched. 

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugged, unfazed. “What’s wrong with that?” 

You choked on your own spit at his nonchalance, how carefree he was about this. “W—What do you mean what’s wrong with fucking here, Bucky? We’re in a damn photobooth!” 

The blank expression on his face was unchanging. “So?” 

The words on the tip of your tongue died out. Your boyfriend could be a little freaky in the bedroom sometimes and you were all for it. Never had you both risked the danger of public sex, however. 

“You’re out of your damn mind if you think we’re doing it in public,” you scoffed before beginning to make your way out of the stall.

But you were quickly stopped in your tracks as Bucky slammed his arm against the opposing wall, effectively blocking your path. “We’re not leaving until I’ve fucked you.” 

A shudder of arousal ran down your spine at the gruffness of his voice. “Baby,” you laughed nervously. “I know we like to experiment sometimes, but this is a little far, don’t you think?” 

The air between you was thick with tension, especially with a pair of bright blue eyes staring you down so intensely you imagined the burning embers of a fire raging behind them. 

You gulped as Bucky slowly licked his lips, giving you a once over that made you feel too exposed in an already revealing sundress. There was a short distance between you, and your boyfriend’s stature was towering and beefy, taking up a large presence — his imposing nature made the hairs on your arms stand up. 

He walked you backwards slowly, step by step, until you hit the far wall of the booth. Pressing his nose against the curve of your neck, he snarled. “All I know is that my cock is so fuckin’ hard for you right now and if I don’t have your pussy wrapped around it within the next thirty seconds, I’m gonna haul you over my shoulder and take you out there in front of the whole damn mall.” 

You thought you could tamp down the moan trapped in your throat, but you were sorely mistaken when it unleashed without remorse. Your chest heaved with exhilaration and your fingers twitched excitedly at the prospect of something so scandalous. 

“So what’s it gonna be, sweetheart? In this photo booth with a little privacy? Or out there where everyone can watch me ruin you? Your choice.”

You had not expected this outcome when you had dragged your boyfriend over to the booth. You wanted to take cute pictures and add them to your keepsake memory box. Now you were deciding your fate; whether you would be leaving your dignity in the tiny stall or chance getting arrested for public indecency in the middle of the shopping mall. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow, awaiting your answer. 

“In h—here,” you whispered in anticipation. 

The cheshire cat grin you received in return spiked your nerves even further. “Clever girl.” 

Without giving you a chance to backtrack on your decision, Bucky hoisted you up into his arms and smothered your squeal of shock with his lips. He wasted no time snaking his tongue into your mouth, fighting for dominance like always. 

“Mmph!” you moaned when he flicked his tongue against yours. A zing of electricity shot down to your pussy and you threaded your fingers through his long hair, pulling it tightly. 

Even after so many years, the spark between you and Bucky was still alive. Throughout the trysts of your sexual experiences together, the attraction to each other had only intensified. He was sexier now than ever before. And even if he came up with outlandish ideas that made you step out of your comfort zone, you held so much trust in him that it was easy to follow him to the depths of sin. 

A string of saliva connected between your lips as Bucky pulled away for air. While he was reckless for suggesting such a depraved idea of public sex, he was smart enough to realise the two of you were short on time to make it happen. 

“Hold on,” he warned before handling your weight over to one arm. With the other, he unzipped the fly of his trousers and shuffled them down just past his ass until his cock bounced out. 

You gasped at the sight. Bucky really was hard for you already, if the angry looking vein straining from his thick length was anything to go by. He was throbbing, you could see his dick viciously twitching with need and your thighs clenched around his waist with hunger. 

Your boyfriend squeezed your hip. “You like seeing me desperate for you, huh baby?” 

You tightened your lips to try and hide your smile and shrugged innocently. “Can’t say I mind it so much.” 

Bucky growled with a smirk. “You’re a fuckin’ tease, girl.” 

The amusement was quick to wipe from your face when he reached down and ripped the panties covering your mound. “Bucky!” you scolded. “Those were new!” 

He rolled his eyes playfully, trying not to laugh at the way the shredded material now hung from your ankle. “Oh, hush. I’ll buy you some more.” 

You huffed. “What? So you can rip them off me again?” 

Bucky chucked under your chin condescendingly. “Look at you, learning so fast.”

Smug bastard, you cursed internally. 

“Gonna stop complaining and let me fuck you now, doll?” 

You scowled and poked his chest with your finger. “You better watch the way you speak to me— OH!” The retort on your tongue cut off as Bucky sheathed the entirety of his length inside of your pussy in one smooth thrust. Your nails dug harshly into the firm muscle of his shoulders and you buried your head into his neck. “H—Holy shit.”

Bucky panted breathlessly, just as affected as you. Though he still had the gall to tease you. “You were saying?” 

You lifted your head to glare at him, still winded. “You’re damn lucky I love you.” And though you wanted to scold your boyfriend for his cheek, you couldn’t help but squirm on his cock. There was only so much you could take until it wasn't enough — you needed him to move. To feel the delicious scrape of his length against your tight walls. “Now shut up and fuck me before someone comes.” 

“You’re so hot when you boss me around,” Bucky moaned before kissing you with urgency. 

The nails of his fingers dug crescent shapes into your bare thighs, but the sting of pain was nothing compared to the slow drag of his cock leaving your cunt. You whimpered as his thick girth left you inch by inch until only the tip sat inside of you. 

“Gonna beg me for it, baby?” he asked. 

You blew out an impatient huff and tugged on his hair harshly until he groaned. “Give me your cock, if you know what’s good for you.” 

“Eh,” he shrugged. “Good enough.” 

A high pitched keen was forced out of you when Bucky thrusted his hips up, the full nine inches of his dick sat deep inside of your pussy. “Fuck!” 

“Should’ve begged like I asked and maybe I’d have gone a little easier on you, sweetheart,” he said tauntingly. 

“If you ever think that I would want it easy then you don’t know me at all,” you clapped back. 

Your boyfriend’s eyes shone with pride. “That’s my girl.”

Bucky fucked like it was the first time every time. His movements were careful and his hands were greedy; always touching you, always gathering you as close as possible to him. And while he was soft with his caresses, his desire to roughly pound his cock into your cunt, as deep as it humanely could, was another story. 

“God, you’re like a fuckin’ vice around my dick,” he choked out. “Would’a thought you’d have loosened up by now, baby. But I can still barely move.” 

Unable to speak without screaming, you sucked his neck, bruising his skin until it turned a dark purple. 

“You markin me, huh? Want everybody to know who I belong to?” 

You nodded your head while whimpering, the nails of your fingers scratching against Bucky’s scalp. 

The motion of his thrusts made his balls slap against your ass — he loved it when you got possessive. “Filthy fuckin’ girl. Don’t worry, doll. I’m all yours.”

Letting go of his neck with a pop, you loudly whined out, “So good— cock feels so good in me, baby. Fucking me just right.”

“Oh, I know. But you gotta turn down the volume, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Save it for the bedroom, alright?” 

You tried, you really did. But the way the head of his cock repeatedly stroked against the sensitive spongy spot of your pussy made your inhibitions blurry and you couldn’t help moaning like a whore.

Bucky tutted and shook his head in mock disapproval. “Guess I have to do everything for you, hm?” His lips curled up in perverse satisfaction as he shoved three of his fingers into your mouth. 

You hummed around them instantly while staring into his eyes. He made you this way; a willing body for him to toy with, a woman who was quick to fall under his command and you lived for it. You gargled around his large fingers as you jolted each time he drove his cock into you, drool dripping down from your chin and landing on your boyfriend’s lower stomach and dick. 

“Can’t even let my fingers keep you quiet, huh? Just have to make sure everyone knows how good it feels to be fucked by me.” 

Your back slammed against the wall of the stall and the force of Bucky’s hips rocked the whole thing back and forth. His strength only turned you on more and even with the intrusion of his fingers, your noises grew louder, more unabashed. 

“Shit, you sound so pretty.” His eyes darted towards the swinging panties still attached to your ankle and he quickly removed his fingers to grab them. “Such a good girl for me, baby. But I think we need somethin’ a little more efficient to quiet my eager girl down.” 

Before you had the chance to whimper again, Bucky shoved your underwear into your mouth. To both of your luck, your moans became muffled enough to not draw attention. “Perfect.”

Though the volume of your sounds had been solved, the slick noises coming from your dripping cunt became the center of attention. 

“Are you that fuckin’ soaked for me, sweetheart?” Bucky’s eyes rolled back as his cock throbbed at the feel of you. Even though you were wet, your walls still hugged his shaft. 

“Mhm!” you mumbled over your makeshift gag. Your worries of being caught had long disappeared, your main focus now to revel in the building tension from your lower stomach creeping to the surface. 

The two of you were only concealed by a pathetic thin curtain that didn’t even close all the way. It left a large gap, one that should a member of the public managed to notice, would reveal Bucky’s bare ass and your scrunched up face, moaning in pleasure at the feel of his cock. 

Again, you were so far out of your realm to notice. Though Bucky did as he glanced over his shoulder and the high he got from the danger was addictive. 

Wrapping an arm around you tightly, Bucky discreetly reached into his jean pocket with his free hand while keeping up his momentum. He was so close to the edge, balancing on the precipice of cumming, but he strived to hold on just a little longer. 

Grabbing the loose change, he discreetly dispensed it into the money slot of the machine. “You think you’re gonna cum for me, doll?” he asked, short windedly while his thighs trembled. 

You whined desperately around your panties, your eyes glossy from the overwhelming thread that was beginning to unravel. 

“Alright. I’m gonna count down from three and you’re gonna give it to me, yeah? Can you do that for me?” 

Thumping your head back against the wall, you closed your eyes and nodded hastily. 

“Good. Ready, baby?” he asked. 

Your nails scratched the back of his neck in approval and he began. 

“Three.” He pistoned his hips, fucking you with all the energy he had left in him. 

“Two.” The deep dirty grind of cock into your cunt was torturing and your thighs shook as you fought to hold out. 

“One.” On his final count, Bucky pinched your clit, hard. Your eyes shot wide open at the same time multiple bright flashes blanketed the photobooth and your mouth dropped on a muted scream. 

“Holy— F—Fuck!” Your boyfriend’s shout echoed across the white walls while his fist slammed next to your head. A huge load of his cum shot up into your cunt, overflowing the already full hole. 

Your mind swam in ecstasy from the adrenaline filled haze of your orgasm. The pure rush of your sparking nerves was a familiar thing with Bucky and yet the sensation was so deeply gratifying every single time. 

You sucked in lungfuls of air on your comedown, letting your mouth hang open while your ruined panties dropped with a wet slap onto the floor. Shivers wracked through your body and before you could even notice the coldness, Bucky enveloped his warm body around you while he stroked your cheek. 

“That’s it,” he cooed soothingly while he recovered from his own intense orgasm. “Take it easy, sweetheart.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you, until there was no space between you. “That was fun,” you slurred lazily.

Bucky’s tired laugh rumbled through you. “Damn fuckin’ right it was.” Lifting his head out of your neck, he kissed you delicately. “You alright?” 

“I’m great,” you told him truthfully. “Though you may have to help me walk because I can’t feel my legs anymore.” 

He grinned, satisfied. “I’m that good, huh?” 

You lightly smacked his chest, even if you couldn’t contain your own cheesy smile. “Nope. I’m not inflating your ego more than it already is.” Turning your head to the screen of the booth, your eyes widened upon what you saw. “No you did not.” 

“Oh, but I did.” Bucky said proudly. “A little souvenir of our sexual awakening.” 

“Oh my god.” The shock of it rendered you speechless. 

“I know, right? Now you have the photos you wanted.” 

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Looking back at your boyfriend, you shook your head. “I wish I could tell you off.” 

“You can tell me I’m a bad boy later,” he suggested with a wink. “For now let's get outta here.” 

Once he gently placed you down, making sure you were steady on your feet, the two of you sorted yourselves; tidying the mess of your sex hair and straightening the wrinkles out of your clothes. Bucky made sure to pocket your panties from the floor, leaving no evidence of your fun. 

“Come on, you.” He lightly slapped your ass before ripping the curtain open. “We’ve still got some shopping to do.” He stepped out, whistling to himself like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless and held his hand out for you to take. 

“You want to go shopping while your cum is literally leaking down my legs as we speak?” you hissed as heat crept up your neck from the thought. 

Bucky leaned his shoulder against the booth and smirked. “Well, we do have to buy you some new underwear. Remember, doll?” 

You so desperately wanted to smack the self-satisfied grin off his face. “You wait until we get home, you little shit.” 

An excited gleam twinkled in his eyes. “Can’t fuckin’ wait, baby.” 

With a huff, you exited the photobooth, begrudgingly sliding your hand into Bucky’s. Before you left to continue your shopping, however, he plucked the Polaroids from the outside dispenser.

Your boyfriend admired the photos, each one a debauched image of you with heavy, hooded eyes with your mouth hung open on a scream. 

“You look good on camera, baby.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “We should make a film next.” 

Trying to clench your thighs together to keep his cum from dripping down your leg, you swatted his arm. “Pfft—you wish, big boy.” 

But Bucky smirked, a wickedness in his expression. “I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade you somehow.” 

Author’s Note: There may be huge potential for a part two 🫣

[adore-laur]

the girls asking Harry & their mom how they fell in love ?

——

With bath time for the kids done and dusted, you fall onto the couch like a rag doll with your eldest daughter in your arms wearing a fluffy white robe. She's about to get the princess treatment—her favorite thing is when you comb through her curls with apple-scented detangling spray. Harry holds your youngest and rhythmically walks around the living room to make her sleepy. She's in her zip-up pajamas, and she smells like fresh lavender. Her eyes are not yet closed, but Harry knows what tricks to use. Before long, she'll drift off and be transferred to her crib, all clean and fed.

As you yawn, the little arm tucked in your embrace wiggles free. It'll take significantly longer for her to become sleepy, but you're hoping some snuggles and soothing hair brushing under the dim lights will speed up the process.

She points aimlessly toward the fireplace, yet her eyes track above it. The artificial plant? The pillar candle? The row of picture frames?

"What, baby?" you ask, kissing her damp curls while readying the comb and spray.

"Pretty dress," she says, aiming her finger more precisely. You follow it and smile sweetly. On the mantel shelf, there’s a photograph in an elegant gold frame. It has been proudly displayed there for nearly five years as a keepsake from one of the most euphoric days of your life. It's an eight-by-ten photo of you and Harry after your marriage ceremony, sitting in the sleek black limousine that chauffeured you both to the reception venue. Through the open window, the hired photographer captured the moment Harry tried to unclip your lace bridal veil. Your legs, covered by the lush and heavy silhouette of your gown, were thrown over his lap even when there was plenty of space to spread out.

The reason that particular photo is the chosen one for the living room is because of how you and Harry are looking at each other in it. His fingers, one in particular the forever home of a gold wedding band, were tangled in your intricately styled hair, working to unclasp the many pins lost in the strands. But his eyes were feasting on you—captivated, ecstatic, and soaking you in like you were the only thing that existed. His smile was the brightest part of the photo. He was mid-laugh, with his dimples deep, nose scrunched, and cheeks pushed up so that crinkles formed near his eyes. You can hardly remember what he was laughing at. He was giddier than a kid in a candy store, with unrestrained hands and excitement. He never did end up successfully removing your veil. His mother later helped him out, and it's now packed away in a storage box in the back of your closet.

Your expression in the photo is quite similar to his—irrepressible joy mixed with fierce love for your better half. The high resolution captured the residual tears in your eyes, which were caused by the overwhelming emotions from when you greeted family and friends after the ceremony concluded. It was a gorgeous, sunny day. The afternoon sunshine poured into the limousine and accentuated the details of your exquisite gown and Harry's traditional tuxedo. You parsed through countless photos after the honeymoon, and Harry agreed that this one encapsulated the intimate love you shared with each other the best. It always brought you back to that day and that indescribable feeling. It still makes your heart pound. You would marry him a million times over just to cherish every single second again.

When you and Harry started a family together, the mantle shelf was filled with more precious photographs over the years. Now, with two children, anniversary milestones, and vacation memories under your belt, it's a beautiful display of the life you built and experienced with Harry. It's a reminder of what life is all about.

"That's mommy's wedding dress," you say proudly, beginning to comb through her hair. Harry stops his laps around the rug and stares at the picture too.

"You wore it when you met Daddy?" she replies, a cute sense of curiosity quieting her voice.

You laugh and catch Harry's gaze just as a crooked smile breaks loose on his lips. "No, I wore it when I married him."

"Oh. What did you wear when you met Daddy?"

"Gosh, I don't think I even remember," you say, searching your brain for that night at the dive bar. It was a late-night encounter, and you were tipsy.

Harry, still staring at the wedding photo, says, "An open-back dress. Black, long, and form-fitting." He shakes his head, lost in thought. "Effortlessly gorgeous."

"How in the world do you remember that?" you ask, a blush crawling up your neck.

"The disco lights were dancing across your bare back." He shrugs, like the memory is permanently stamped inside his brain. "I'll never forget that sight."

"It was a funeral dress?" your daughter asks, piecing together the visual her father verbally painted.

"Definitely not," Harry says, sending a secret smirk your way.

"Where did you see mommy in the black dress?" She lets you move her head around as you spritz her hair with the detangling spray.

"We were at the same... restaurant," you say slowly, careful not to mention bars around her. Better to keep her innocence alive as long as possible.

"What did you eat?"

"We didn't eat," you reply. "We had strawberry and lemon drinks." You intentionally leave out the infused with alcohol part.

"What did Daddy say?"

You smile, loving her endless questions. "He asked me questions about myself. Made me feel comfortable and special. Unfortunately, our conversation didn't last very long. Mommy was tired and had to go home."

"And Daddy thought he was never going to see her again," Harry added theatrically. "He was really bummed out about it, but by some magical force, he crossed paths with her a month later."

"Magic?" Your daughter whispers the childlike word, her eyes wide with interest.

"It sure seemed like it," Harry says, gently sitting beside you so as not to wake the baby. He looks at you, and somehow, his eyes transport you right back to the start of it all. "Took us three tries to finally get things right."

You lean forward to kiss him tenderly. "Look at us now."

He reciprocates the kiss—his is a bit more urgent and sentimental. He then admires his daughters, both on the verge of sleep, and rubs his palm over where his heart is. "Thank you for choosing me, baby," he says to you. There seems to be emotion lodging in his throat, but he clears it away and breathes in deeply. "I'm yours every day. And I love you for infinite reasons, but growing our little family has the number one spot in my heart."

You toss the comb aside and hug him, your daughters cocooned by two souls that somehow found each other more than once. By magic, fate, or simply coincidence, you truly lucked out.

——

[ohwowimlonley]

nsfw alphabet - s.b

Warnings - f!reader, pinv sex, unprotected sex, oral, nudes, kinda perv!sirius

Notes - these alphabets are gonna be way longer than my origonal ones, so they’re going to take longer to put out, but if you want one specific one first then let me know! I’m trying to get one done for every character on my list :)

-

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

“Here, baby,” he sits with his back to the headboard, gently coaxing you to sit up with a hand on the back of your neck, just enough so he can tip a mouthful of water past your lips. He rewards you with a kiss on the forehead, before he slips off of the mattress to retrieve his quidditch jersey from atop his trunk, urging you to hold your arms up so he can fold the fabric over your head, tugging it down until the excess material pools around your thighs.

“”Ready for bed, gorgeous girl?” he grins toothily down at you, slipping an arm around your waist and tugging you down until your head hits the pillow, clearly not expecting you to answer him at all. He settles you into your patented sleeping position; you curled up on your left side and Sirius plastered to any and all skin he can reach, chin hooked over your shoulder and lips pressed to your jaw.

B = Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partners)

“Mmph, fuck me,” he throws his head back, battling against the urge to keep his eyes screwed shut, instead reaching over your body, grabbing at your ass and admiring the way it jiggles with the motion, obsessed with the way it looks stuck up in the air while your head is in between his thighs, “look so good down there baby. Gonna let me cum all over that pretty ass of yours?”

“Siri, Siri oh my-” you gasp out, trying your utmost to stifle a scream that threatens to breach past your lips, grabbing and pulling at his hair as he licks all over your sensitive cunt.

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

“Siri, m’gonna cum,” you bite into his neck, struggling to keep yourself as quiet as possible, but you can’t help but whine when he pulls away from you, halting your high in its tracks. You sob out of frustration, digging your nails into his back, “no, Siri! Why?”

“You know why, princess,” he tuts, “you don’t cum first, daddy does,”

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

“Oh Siri,” you mumble breathlessly, eyes widening as you dig through his box of ‘keepsakes’ always kept under his bed. There’s all sorts of things hidden away in the depths of it; polaroids (ones you’d taken for him along with those you don’t recognise), a pair of your favourite lace panties you were beginning to think you’d lost and right at the bottom, next to a note you’d slipped to him in potions asking if he wanted a date out in the forbidden forest, is the spare key to your private dorm room. You’d lost it weeks ago, and even asked your boyfriend about it. He claimed he hadn’t seen it, even suggested some places for you to look for it. Maybe this is how he’d managed to get those mysterious polaroids of you, “Sirius Black, you dirty pervert,”

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Sirius knows how to do a lot of things. The first time you guys had sex, he surprised you by pinning you down on his plush bed sheets, anchoring your hips down with his strong biceps and eating you out like a man starved. He knows all the right spots, with no prompting whatsoever.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

“Stay,” his voice is gruff, the sound reverberating over the walls of his dormitory. His hand is right at the base of your neck between your shoulder blades, keeping your face firmly planted in his satin pillows. Your knees keep your ass up high, legs spread as far apart as you can get them while keeping balanced. The rest of your body is as low as possible, and he runs the fingers of his spare hand through your sopping folds, teasing you by never giving you any actual friction, “such a good girl for me, huh? My pretty little show off,”

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

His lips are all over you, on your own, slipping his tongue between your teeth, on your neck, sucking on the skin until it bruises, on the neckline of your shirt, tugging at it with his pearly whites. The two of you pull away at the same time, pulling your shirt desperately over your head. Your arms slip out easily, but your chin gets stuck in the tight neck hole. The two of you stop in your tracks, eyes connecting over the constricting hem of your (about to be thrown away) shirt. There’s a dead silence for a good ten seconds, before Sirius cracks up. His laughter is thunderous, shaking the whole bed with the force of it. You stare at him blankly as he starts crying from the hilarity of the situation. Somehow, through his laughter, he helps you escape your fabric prison and pets your hair to calm himself down, “sorry, love,”

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s laid out on his bed, thighs spread apart and right hand on the back of your head as you push yourself down on his length. He’s gasping out for air, hips jerking up to meet your mouth until your nose is buried in a patch of thick, curly hair. It’s not suffocating, the hair by your nose, but it’s definitely there, tickling your skin.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

“Shh, sweetness,” his lips brush the crown of your head, hands gripping yours, pushing them deeper into the mattress as he rolls his hips into yours. He’s not quite kissing you all the way, what with his breathlessness, but you can feel the subtle cracks in his lips scratching your forehead as he pushes them against you.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

Steam billows around him in the ensuite bathroom of his shared dorm room. The boys are in the next room, and are almost definitely able to hear him through the old brick walls. He doesn’t care. He can’t get you off his mind and he’d rather the boys hear him over seeing his chubbed up cock through his pyjamas. If he could, he would send you an owl asking you over to help him out, since you always do it so much better than him, but you’re busy with prefect duties.

He squeezes his cock tighter, trying desperately to mimic the suction of your wet heat, but it’s no use, it’s nothing like the real thing. When he finally does cum, it’s weak and dissatisfying. He lets out a pathetic whimper at the feeling, promising himself to never again try and make himself cum without you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

God, he loves watching you cry. It’s one of his favourite things in the world to see; you cry out for him, pools of tears welling in your eyes as he mercilessly rubs his fingers into your sweet spot as he sucks relentlessly on your puffy clit. He just adores the angry lines the tears leave in their wake, sometimes he’ll lean up and kiss along the trail they leave, pout down at you mockingly, and ask if it’s too much for you. It just makes you sob out for him to do something, but he holds out for a little while longer, just to see how desperate you get for him.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Your moans echo all throughout the empty boys locker room, and your nails dig painfully into the worn wooden bench Sirius has you bent over. The boys are waiting for you just on the other side of the door, probably able to hear you through the flimsy door, but neither of you care much. In fact, you suspect Sirius is enjoying it; giving the boys a sample of how good you are to him, but never letting them see the full thing.

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

“No, Siri, you’re doing it wrong,” you insist, leaning over his shoulder and pointing at the History of Magic textbook, then moving your finger to his messily scrawled homework, “what page are you even looking at?”

God, that ever so slightly condescending-yet-playful tone in your voice has him bending over slightly in his chair in the hopes of you not catching his growing hard on. He bites his lip to hold back a grin, and writes down yet another nonsensical note in his barely legible handwriting, in the hopes that you’ll roll your eyes at him again, tell him off again, press your tits to his shoulder and tell him what to do again, just so he has an excuse to bend you over his desk and punish you for being rude.

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

Sirius is up for a hell of a lot of things, anything you want, he wants, essentially. The only thing he’ll never, ever go near is consensual non consent. He can’t stand the thought of you even pretending like you’re not enjoying what he does to you.

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

God, he looks so pretty like this; hair scraped back into an almost falling out ponytail, sweat beading down his exposed chest, and muscles tensing in his arms as he grips at your hair. He adores you on your knees for him, looking up at him with teary eyes as you struggle to take his whole length at once. If you let him, his absolute favourite thing to do is fuck your face, his hips stuttering every time you gag at his tip bruising the back of your throat. He always finishes in minutes when you have your mouth around him, filling your throat with his creamy spend.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He starts off rolling his hips against yours slowly, making sure to hit that sweet spot inside of you with every thrust. His head drops to your shoulder, kissing along every spot of exposed skin he can get to without adjusting his position and risk losing his rhythm. His hands are everywhere, wandering over your exposed body as his pace picks up.

As his orgasm approaches, his gentle pace quickle devolves into harsh, sloppy thrusts.

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

“Shh,” he insists, slipping his free hand over your mouth so your moans are muffled. The two of you are most certainly going to be late to potions, but you don’t care so long as he keeps slamming himself into your sweet spot at this pace. A mop handle slams down onto the floor next to you, but neither of you pay it much mind, “gotta hurry up n’ cum, princess, or else you’ll have to sit at the back with Snivvelus,”

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

“C’mon, Siri! Just show me!” You whinge, lunging to grab the bag from behind his back, but he’s too quick and holds it over his head so you can’t reach it. You cross your arms over your chest and glare up at him, “arsehole,”

“Hey now,” he tuts, then slips his hand into the black plastic bag and pulls out a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs and dangles them in front of your face, “don’t go bein’ naughty, or else I’ll have to use these on you, hm?”

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

“Please,” you all but sob out, pushing weakly at his shoulder in an attempt to slow his pace down, even by just a fraction, “Siri, s’too much,”

“Be good, sweetling,” is all he responds with, smearing a kiss on the crown of your head as he carries on uninterrupted. You don’t even understand how he’s doing it. He must’ve cum at least three times by now, albeit with small breaks in between where he would delve in between your legs and eat you out ‘til you scream.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Sirius Black loves to tie you up. It doesn’t matter if it’s with handcuffs, a tie he wore to work, the belt he’d forgotten on the dreaded laundry chair, he doesn’t care. Sometimes, if he’s feeling extra mean, he’ll tether your ankles to the bedposts as well with pairs of tights he digs out from your underwear drawer, just to see you struggle to chase after his touch as he tortures you with a magic wand vibrator (he likes the irony of the name).

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

“What’s wrong, baby? You were being so loud earlier,” he grins up at you evilly, nudging his fingers deeper into your tight channel, pressing them against your sweet spot. His calloused palm scrapes against your abused clit, and you know he’s not planning on stopping any time soon. You try to respond to him, but all that comes out of your mouth is a pathetic gasping whine that makes your boyfriends chuckle, “what was that, love? Try’na tell me something?”

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

You’ve never heard your boyfriend make so much noise as when you ride him. He can’t hold back his desperate grunts as you bring your hips down to meet his. He grips onto with a bruising force when you cum around him, letting out a continuous howling moan at your pulsating tightness. The moan fades into a steady groan when you start up again, determined to make him cum. When he finally does, it’s with a high pitched sigh, exhaled right by your ear as you shush him.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Pulling on Sirius Black’s hair is a special kind of fun. When it’s his turn to take charge and you do it, it spurs him on to fuck you harder, press his fingers into you more, scrape his teeth against your clit a little harder. When he’s playing the submissive however, pulling on his hair makes him turn to jelly. You tug on his hair when he goes down on you, and he loses his goddamn mind, all but suffocating himself in between your thighs as he muffles his high pitched whimpers against your slit.

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

Sirius Black does not have a massive dick. It’s actually quite regular, standing at not quite six inches, with a good girth you can grip onto between your thumb and forefinger. His tip is hooked a little upwards, which makes it just delicious to ride him, with his spongy head mashing against your g-spot.

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

Sirius would go all day every day if he could, but realistically, he’ll give you those eyes and pull you away into his room to have you.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

“Okay, sweetheart?” He cranes his neck down to brush his lips across your forehead, looking over to the nightstand you’d slowly invaded during your time of dating to ensure you had drained your glass of water before switching off his lamp and tucking the covers up over your almost sleeping frame with the red quilted duvet and pulls you closer to his side. It’s only when your breathing evens out and your muscles relax completely that he lets his eyes close.

[poedays]

Tank: Who would you kill out of the four of us David?

David: Milo, easily.

Milo: What the fuck, man.

David: Well, Ash would be too easy, he’d probably be into it.

Asher, now standing in the doorway: What the fuck, man!

—- —- —-

Welcome to my Wolf Boys Headcanons! This includes David, Milo, Asher and Tank/Darlin’.

- Asher and Tank used to practise kissing together in high school.

- > Milo walked in on them once and very quickly decided it was none of his business.

- David really likes the Terminator movies and used to have a poster as a kid that he’d gotten from Gabe -> who had gotten the poster when the first movie came out. Now he has the poster rolled up in a box of keepsakes.

- > Asher sometimes teases David about his leather jackets because of his early obsession with the movies.

- Asher and Milo have had Star Trek versus Star Wars arguments and Milo is pro Star Wars just to fuck with Ash.

- All four of them had nerf gun fights when they were kids along with some of the other pack members.

- > Asher has swallowed one of the nerf bullets. Don’t ask him how he did it, even he doesn’t know. Although he swears he remembers the taste of blue and orange plastic.

- > David shot Tank in the eye by accident and did not talk to them for like a week because he couldn’t build up the courage to apologise. Milo and Ash found it hilarious.

- Asher starts sporadic games of truth or dare when he’s bored, and somehow his truths are always worse than his dares.

- > During one of these games David dared Asher to climb a tree in his wolf form, as a joke. Asher did not take it as a joke. He fell from said tree and broke his arm.

- Ash and Milo got their ears pierced together. Originally Ash had convinced Milo to pierce his ear for him, but when it eventually got infected Marie banned any future attempts at unlicensed piercing.

- It took a bit longer for Tank and Milo to become friends again after Tank returned to the pack. Although, a quick jab at Amanda and Christin from Milo got the two talking and joking together like they used to.

- Milo beats everyone at Mario Kart and that’s why they never play it.

- > David mains as Bowser (a shock to no one), Asher plays as either Rosalina or Baby Luigi, Milo’s a Shy Guy man, and Tank plays as Yoshi.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: this wasn't my planned update but here we go.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your grandmother is where she always is. In her chair reading her book. She doesn’t look up and you don’t bother saying a word. She’s getting exactly what she’s always wanted and she doesn’t even realise it. She’s getting rid of you. Another thing you’ve done for her that she’ll never acknowledge. 

You go into your room and look around. You sit on the bed and examine each wall. You’re not going to miss this place, just your freedom. There is no illusion left around Andy. He’s shown how far he’ll go to make his will your own. You don’t expect him to ‘take care of you’ as he keeps promising, not in the way it sounds. 

You huff and hold your head. You’re not going to sleep. You don’t have time to. You have to figure out what to take with you. What do you tell your grandmother? She won’t care either way, will she. She’ll finally have her empty nest. At least someone will have what they want. 

You don’t have much to your name. Your switch, your headset, controllers; that’s the expensive stuff. Your clothes are mostly used, easily replaceable. You’re not really worried about dressing up. 

You spend the hours going through every little nook and cranny. You’re not sentimental, you don’t have much that it more than material. Only a box of keepsakes from the few years of your life; a friendship bracelet the neighbour girl gave you before she moved away, some meaningless award you won in grade school for attendance, and the only thing left to you by your parents, besides resent; a baby sweater you wore when they thought they could love you. 

You fit everything you’re taking in a single bag. The rest you box up and drag out to the curb. In the early hours, the house is quiet and you try not to make too much noise. Your grandmother’s snores stir from her room. She’s blissfully ignorant just as always. 

You strip the bed and put the sheets and blanket in the wash. Hopefully you can switch it over before you go. You wipe down the furniture with a wet cloth and dust the corners and the empty closet. You’re covered in sweat and breathless by the time you have the entire space barren. You’re so tired you’re dizzy but closing your eyes only brings Andy’s voice to mind. 

There’s a creak and you raise your head as the ripples dissipate. Your grandmother slouches as she clings to the door handle and scowls. She looks around the room and her grey brow twitches. 

“Eh, what’re you doing?” She growls, “making all this noise.” 

“Leaving,” you shrug. 

“Leaving? To where?” 

You’re dumbfounded she’s even asked. You sit up and show your hands, “gotta go back to school soon anyway so I’m going to crash with Kara. I’ll leave money on the table when I go.” 

“Oh.” 

That’s all she says before she goes. She believes you only because she doesn’t care enough to doubt you. You hang your head and sigh. You can’t help but think of what Andy said. You hate to admit it but he’s right. There’s no one else who wants you. It doesn’t make him a better option, just the only. 

Thinking makes your head hurt. Or maybe that’s the lack of sleep. You check your phone and wrap up the charging cord. Morning already. Nearly 7am. You spent hours clearing out your old life; a life that was never really living. 

There’s a message waiting for you. Two. Both from Andy. The first is a good night you never answered and the second from just twenty minutes ago, asking if you’re awake. You send a thumbs up. That’s all you can handle right now. 

The call comes almost as soon as the message sends and the check mark turns blue. You answer without hesitation. Your so numb to the inevitability of it all, there’s no sense in avoiding any of it. You just want this over with even though you know it won’t be. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” Andy purrs from the other end. Your throat clenches and your cheeks tug into a frown. “How are you?” 

You go to speak and cough, your mouth dry. You clear your throat and rub your forehead as it throbs with the effort, “awake. Packed.” 

“Oh, honey, you sound tired.” 

“Mm,” you hum flatly. 

“I couldn’t sleep either,” he says, “I couldn’t stop thinking of you.” He pauses, waiting for the lies you won’t give him. “Well, when do you wanna head out? Do you need a little more time?” 

“Ready,” you utter. Not really ready but resigned.  

“Sure, sweetheart, I’ll just get myself together and be over in twenty minutes, how does that sound?” 

Why is he asking you like you have a choice? You garble an agreement and hang up. You put the phone down as you sit on the naked mattress and stare. Your head is swimming with fatigue. As you close your eyes, the fear returns. You’re really doing this. 

You fold over your lap and whimper. It’s over, not that it ever really begun. Not that you were ever really expected much. You just wanted to be your own person, have your own space, make your own way. For once in your life, you just wanted to be you. 

Andy isn’t going to let that happen. You don’t know him but you know he wants you to be something you aren’t. Whether it’s delusion or cruelty, you don’t know, but you know something isn’t right. It can never be right. 

You get up and unlock your phone. You key in a message with the last of your strength; ‘meet me at the corner’. You don’t think she’ll bother herself but you wouldn’t want your grandma to see the truth. You’re not sure she’d even care enough to judge you. 

You come out as she grumbles into a coffee cup. You roll your bag behind you and grab your jacket from the hook by the door; a light canvas one you wear in the mornings when the dew chills the air. She stares at the television as the news blares at her. 

“Here,” you take out the little bit of cash you have left to your name and place it on the table at her elbow, “I’m... going now.” 

“Erm,” she grunts and slurps the coffee. She doesn’t even look at you. Should you tell her you’re not coming back? You leave your keys with the money 

You just turn and pull your bag after you to the door, stopping only to put your shoes on. You open the front door and step out into the soft hues of morning. It would be a beautiful day if the world hadn’t gone gray. 

Your bag wheels scratch the pavement behind you, the whole thing jostling at the end of the long handle. You head down to the corner and park yourself on the curb, waiting as your eyes rove the area. You take it all in; the fences, the hedges, the cracked birdbath, and the few welcome signs on doors. 

The low whir of an engine approaches. You know without looking it’s him. But you do. You have to face it. 

“Hey,” Andy steps out as you stand on the curb. “Let me get this, sweetheart.” 

He reaches back inside the car and hits a switch. The trunk opens on its own. Is it pathetic that you’re kind of impressed by that? You’ve only seen trunks that you open with your hands. He lifts your bag inside easily and taps another button, the hatch closing slowly behind him. 

“Come on, you look beat,” he touches your shoulder and you flinch, curling inward as you shake his hand away. “I brought you a coffee. Not the hotel brew, the good stuff.” 

You numbly follow him around to the other side. He opens the car door and you stare at the interior. You take a breath and grab the trim of the door and haul yourself inside. You drop heavily into the seat and your head bounces against the rest. 

He lingers. You feel his gaze on you. He’s expecting something you can’t give him. Not yet. You don’t know if ever. You let out a murmur as he leans in to kiss your cheek. You fight not to show your disgust. 

“Just relax. I’ll drive, you get some sleep, sweetheart,” he caresses your arm. You don’t react. Not a look, not a flinch. 

He shuts the door and walks along the hood. You watch him through the windshield. He’s wearing one of those suits. Dark navy slacks and white shirt with a black tie. You let your head loll and see the matching jacket folded neatly in the back seat. 

He gets in the car, his weight felt in the axle. He hits the button to wake the engine and buckles his belt. He glances over. 

“Hey, safety first.” 

You huff. He's acting like the dad you never had. You click the seat belt into place and turn your face to the window. He inhales deeply and lets it out slow before he puts the SUV into gear. 

“You say goodbye to grandma?” 

“Mm... mhmm,” you grumble. 

“She’ll miss you, huh?” 

Your lip curls and you hide your face as you focus on the houses rolling slowly by. Why is he playing this game? Did he not throw her apathy in your face to get here? 

“Did you bring your switch? We could play some at the hotel,” he offers. 

You close your eyes and ball your fists. It takes everything you have left not to scream and hit him. It’s like he’s rubbing it in. He won! He won! 

And you lost. Just like always. 

“What about Kara?” You ask crisply. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re hoarse. Try some of the coffee,” he reaches to flick the top of a travel mug. You narrow your eyes as you follow the gesture. The purplish pink metal is topped with a white plastic lid. On the side, the outline of a game controller is patterned on the multicoloured finish. “It’s a good brew. Only a few places I’ve found have it. I’ll take you to the shop back home once you’re settled.” 

You’re not arguing with him. You’ve seen how far that gets you. You take the cup and pop the tab on top. You take a tentative sip as you feel the heat within. 

“I added some sugar,” he says. 

“I don’t like sugar,” you snap the lid shut and put the lid back. 

“Oh, sorry, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “guess we have a lot to learn about each other.” 

“Kara,” you insist again. 

He sighs and taps his fingers on the wheel, “I called last night. They’re holding her so we can pay the bond.” 

We? He’s not subtle. You sniff as your back racks with the sort of achiness that comes from being so tired. 

“I’ll talk to them. Get the charges knocked down. If anything, I can get them piled onto that boy she keeps around. He’s trouble, if I’ve ever seen it--” 

“Seen?” You echo, “have you... seen him?” 

He hesitates and his cheek dimples under his dark beard. He stares at the road ahead as his lips move as if he’s talking silently. Finally, he answers. 

“I only wanted to make sure you were safe. I know better than any that hanging out with the wrong crowd can get you into a lot of trouble--” 

“No, Andy, tell me. Were you watching her too?” You sit up with effort. 

“You should sleep, it’s a long drive,” he girds. 

“Andy, tell me--” 

“I had too. You cut me off and I had to be sure you were okay,” he insists. “And you weren’t. Not really. Sweetheart, things are going to be a lot better. Together. You just can’t see it right now because you never--” 

“Oh, I know what I’ve never had,” you fall back and slump against the door, “you don’t need to keep reminding me.” 

A roiling silence fills the compartment. He exhales again and slows as his blinker clicks noisily. He turns onto the next road as you feel his anxiety. Or maybe it’s your own. 

“I’m sorry. I only want...” he trails of as he measures his words, “I want to take care of you. To give you all that stuff. I don’t want you to feel bad.” 

“I’m tired,” you snip and fold your arms. 

“Right,” he says tensely, “yeah, get some sleep. Easier to talk after.” 

Talk? You’re done talking to him. He only says the same thing over and over again.  

[joelmillers-whore]

Choking Hazard

summary: you’ve been waiting for joel all day, waiting for him to fuck you like he promised. but when he discovers that you’d gotten yourself off earlier, he makes you pay for being disobedient. 

recommended song(s): SLUT ME OUT - NLE Choppa 

pairings: joel x reader 

word count: 4.1K

series or one-shot 

warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, no outbreak, joel miller x female!reader, SMUT, daddy joel can get it, orgasm denial, overstimulation, use of sex toys (vibrator), allusions to female masturbation, cum play, oral (male receiving), praise, slight degradation kink, dirty talk, dom joel, choking on cock, fingering but for only a second, rough blowjob, lots and lots of teasing, edging, pet names (mostly baby and sweetness, a lil darlin' in there too), porn without plot, cum facial, cum eating, spitting 

A/N: JUST SOME GOOD ‘OL DIRTY SMUT FOR YOU ALL. i don’t know what this is but i saw a picture on pinterest of a pair of boxers that had the words ‘choking hazard’ written on the crotch and my dirty mind ran with it lol. 

You’d been waiting not so patiently for Joel to get home from work and it was killing you. He’d left your whole body on fire, each searing touch licking at your flesh, each hungry look he gave another nail in the coffin for your pride. Because you wanted it— needed it, and he was all too aware of that fact.

You were so turned on that the slightest brush at just the right angle could knock into you and you’d probably cum on the spot. Your need was bad, and deadly, and it didn’t help much that Joel enjoyed it. He got a kick out of torturing you, holding your release just out of reach that you’d be willing to ruin yourself for a single moment of pleasure. 

The taunting had become a test between you, each measuring your limits and how much you could take. This time was no different. With dark and rounded eyes, Joel had gripped you hard by your chin, almost painfully so, and demanded that you not touch yourself, not give into the temptation of your orgasm.

And then, he did the most menacing thing he had ever done. He left you alone and completely to your own devices, if not for a small keepsake of multiple and agonizingly strong bursts of tremors every hour. 

Your nipples hardened into painful peaks, pressing into the abrasive material of your shirt and torturing you with equally blissful and confusing sensations. You snapped your eyes shut, rolling your head to the side as a powerful buzz rocketed through you, sending vibration after vibration shooting from your core, through the expanse of your body and settling low in your stomach, nudging you closer to your orgasm.

It was demented what he was doing to you; his little science experiment like you were some sort of fucked-out lab rat. It was drawn out and bordering on sadistic, and you couldn’t do anything but take it. 

Before heading out for the day, Joel had instructed you to get on the bed and spread your legs. His voice had been low, lethal, the edge of it shooting straight to your core, turning you into a needy slut. You’d whined, and begged, but Joel wouldn’t have it.

It was his time, his moment, and he wasn’t going to allow you to take that away from him. You had thought that he would be kind, that he would leave you with a parting gift. Maybe an orgasm to satiate your hunger for him until he came back home. Instead, your lips turned down, your brows furrowing in confusion when he’d revealed a small box, holding up a strange-looking device. 

Your core fluttered and came to life as you laid eyes on the toy. The pink, smooth vibrator promising endless pleasure that you’d happily give into. As you inspected it, your walls clamped around nothing, eyes dragging over the silicon material that curved at the end.

It reminded you of Joel’s cock and you bit down on your lip, suppressing a moan, not wanting to give Joel any more ammunition than he already had. 

You were roughly pulled toward the edge of the bed, feeling Joel’s massive and calloused hands grip you, making you squirm away from his touch out of reflex. He grabbed your ankles, soft fingers contrasted against the strength behind his grip.

Each and every nerve was awakened, charged, as if at a molecular level, you had been starved. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that the way he was looking at you, through heavy lids, his eyes glinting with devilish intent, wasn’t turning you on. Because it was.

You both knew it. You could feel the prominent wetness in your underwear grow in size and at this rate, you’d be drenched by the time he got you out of them. 

He wasted no time shimming you out of said panties, forcefully lifting your hips and tugging them down your legs. It was rushed, quick, as if at any second he could change his mind, alter his direction, and fuck you senseless instead.

You noticed the strain on his face, the way that the muscles in his neck were so tightly coiled you’d bet they would snap if you so much as breathed wrong. He was wound up as soundly as you were, suffering the same way you were, yet he let his feelings aside to fulfill a deeper desire. 

With your soaked panties in one hand and his other gripping both of your ankles, he brought the material to his nose, inhaling your scent deeply, with purpose. He let out a rumbling groan, letting his eyes flutter closed as he relished in it, knowing that you were that wet for him. Only him. Only ever him.

Your chest squeezed, constricting in time with your quickened breathing, the anticipation was killing you. Your hairline was slick with beads of sweat, from both the rising temperature in the room, and the restraint that you were exhibiting. Because you were holding yourself back, waiting to see what came next. 

Joel dropped to his knees, running his hands up and down your legs, almost tenderly, teasingly lighter than how he had been. It fucked with your head, how he was able to be both tender and punishing within such a short amount of time.

He inserted a single digit into you, your hips lifting, trying to escape the sudden intrusion. Joel held you firmly in place, his hand on your stomach crushing you into the mattress below. You’d thrown your head back, wiggling your lower half, trying to find something more than just his one finger. 

He had shushed you, telling you to be patient and that he’d make you cum if you behaved. His words heated your skin, making your lower stomach cramp and sparking something primal within you. You wanted him to fuck you with wild abandon, not stopping when you cried out, begged him for some sort of reprieve, or when you gasped for breath.

You needed him carnally, in a way that would make the Gods weep. It was something you should be ashamed of, but then again, did you really care? 

Your back naturally arched off of the bed when you felt him finally move inside of you, scissoring your hole, and curling his fingers, tickling the edge of your walls. A broken moan slipped past your lips, and incoherent begging mixed with panting came next. Your mind was in a fog, abuzz with lust. You continued to beg for it, begged for anything to make the pain stop. 

Joel removed his fingers, chuckling darkly when you whined. His face was twisted in concentration as he replaced his fingers with the vibrator, the size of it stretching you out.

Your chest was heaving, feeling like a balloon ready to burst from the blinding pressure in your cunt. He inserted it inch by delicious inch, not stopping when you protested, telling him that it wouldn’t fit. He made some crude comment that he would make it fit. 

You should have been turned off but your skin only tingled when he had said it. You felt his eyes watching you every second, not straying from your face as he studied you, curious to see how far he could push you, which limit would be too much for you.

He hummed in satisfaction when the device was fully lodged inside of you. 

In your daze, you hadn’t been sure if you asked him aloud what he planned to do with you, or if you had just only thought it. But when his raspy voice cut through the dense air between you, you’d stilled. You’ll see, is all you had gotten from him.

It made your heartbeat thunder in your chest, hearing a teasing, but all the same, dark lilt dripping from his silky and usually warm Southern drawl. But it wasn’t warm today, it was cold.

Chilling you to the bone at his warning disguised as a promise. Joel got to his feet, leaning over your slack body, and gripped your chin, thumb digging into your bottom lip. 

“Open”, he instructed, and you obeyed. 

You opened your mouth, slowly. He towered over you, his face inches from your own. His dark brown eyes held no warmth, instead, they made you shiver when you looked into them. Which was an entirely new feeling for you. With an open mouth, Joel parted his own lips, letting a glop of saliva dangle off of his tongue, and let it drip into your awaiting mouth.

He snapped your jaw closed, watching your eyes curiously for any hint of disgust or refusal. Not that he’d let you refuse him in the first place. 

“Swallow”. 

Two words. Commands. And you were putty, willing to do whatever to please him. Your throat worked his spit down, swallowing it audibly. Joel’s lips quirked at the edges, his eyes shining with satisfaction. Wordlessly, he left you, heading out of the bedroom.

The room was silent, save for your harsh breathing. You heard the front door close, mistakenly thinking that Joel would be right back but you had been wrong. You shot up shakily, balancing your body weight on your elbows as you let out an annoyed puff. 

Your head was spinning as you lay there, waiting for what, you didn’t know. You rubbed your thighs together, unsure of your next move. Joel hadn’t explicitly said that you couldn’t touch yourself and he wasn’t there to help you out. What was the harm?

A sudden and sharp buzz pounded into you, the jolt making you rip your hand away from your aching cunt, forcing a loud moan from you. Your toes curled from the onslaught of pressure building and you were panting, slick running down your legs. 

You felt the warm tingling sensation that you craved. It began at the base of your spine, easing the knot that had been tangled in your stomach. It climbed higher and higher, your throat gulping bursts of air at a damning rate.

Your clit was on fire from the overstimulation of the continual vibrations, the pleasure bordering on painful. You were levitating off of the bed, head empty of every thought except your imminent release. Streaks of hot tears painted your cheeks, from the burn in your pussy, or the relief, you weren’t sure. 

Your legs quivered in time with each drawn-out buzz, your orgasm cresting and a breath away from exploding out of you. Suddenly, everything stopped. The vibrations were gone, your release yanked from you. You whimpered, crying out into the empty room as if someone could hear you. 

What the fuck? Your breathing was choppy, almost coming out as wheezes, your throat burning. Your pussy fluttered, your walls clamping and unclamping as if they didn’t know what to do next. You blinked back more tears, throwing your head back in both exhaustion and pent-up anger.

You were officially sexually frustrated that you’d give anything to cum. It was all so overwhelming and torturous. You heard a dull vibration from somewhere in the room, your body so hooked on the buzzing of the vibrator that it twitched.

You shook your head, sliding from the bed. It was your phone. Your heart ticked up when you saw that the message was from Joel. 

Joel: Having fun? 

You audibly growled at the phone. He was taunting you when you were all out of patience. The fucking bastard. 

You: Actually, no. 

Joel: Bet you’d have a change of heart if I made you cum.

Your walls clenched around nothing when you read and re-read his words, making sure you weren’t hallucinating. 

You: Was that... you? 

He took longer to respond this time, which made your hand clench at your side, nerves working in tandem with your displaced energy. You waited for his answer, realizing that you were playing right into his hand, holding your breath for his next instruction.

A soft buzz emitted in your hand. 

Joel: Thought we could have some fun today. 

You groaned, cursing softly. Fun. Sure. That had been so much fun. 

You: Wasn’t that much fun, baby. I didn’t get to cum. 

Joel: If you’re a good girl today, maybe I’ll let you. 

Maybe I’ll let you. The fucking balls on this man. He knew exactly what he was doing, winding you up so that you’d have no choice but to agree to him. You felt like he knew every decision you were going to make and yet, you had never been so turned on in your life. 

You: Fine. What do I have to do? 

Joel: Behave. Don’t touch yourself and don’t cum until I get back home. You’ll be rewarded if you manage to hold out. 

You rolled your eyes. It was sick. It was sick and oh, so hot. You bit down on your lip, wincing from the pressure. 

You: You have a deal. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your thighs had been aching all day, shaking until the muscles spasmed on their own. You debated conceding, telling Joel that you were at the end of your rope, and that he would just have to let you make it up to him.

Your resolve had slipped further out of reach as the day progressed, the excruciating spike of the harsh vibrations drilling into you, forcing you to grip whatever surface was closest to you, until the blinding pleasure subsided. Your mind was creeping to the edge of madness, your determination waning. Until it was non-existent. 

Your chest was heaving, toes cramping, chest burning as you came back down from your orgasm, your engorged and swollen clit chafing as you slid off of the bed.

Your fingers were covered in your own juices, as you walked into the bathroom to wash your hands. You’d broken your promise, crumpled for a moment of gratifying pleasure. And you felt like a failure. 

But you hadn’t been able to dwell on it for long before you heard the front door unlock, your back stiffening as you heard it close gently. Your breathing became shallow, knowing you were in for it, and that you hadn’t been able to last. Joel would unearth the truth from you and punish you accordingly.

A cord of both anxiety and excitement settled between your legs. You heard the dull thump of him kicking off his boots, your spine tingling with anticipation as you tracked each step he took. 

Joel entered the bedroom, finding your eyes immediately. He leaned against the doorframe, eyes roaming you hungrily. His smile was tired, but those never-ending orbs gleamed back at you with the promise of something sinful.

They squinted, boring into you suspiciously. You fiddled with your hands, trying not to make it obvious that you had disobeyed him, cumming just moments ago when he had told you not to. 

Joel closed the distance, peeling off his flannel, and throwing it onto the chair in the corner of the bedroom. Your gaze focused on his chest, his broad shoulders, watching the subtle way that his chest rose and fell softly. He didn’t seem the least bit on edge, unlike you. His hands found your hips, gripping them tightly. 

He inhaled deeply, a wicked and knowing smirk plastered on his lips. 

"'D'you come, baby? Hm?", he asked, gruffly. "Did you disobey me and get yourself off?". 

"No", you answered, shaking your head. But it came out meekly, unsure. 

Joel slid one of his hands up your waist, crawling up your stomach and past your chest, to grip your throat, resting at the base of it. Out of habit, you swallowed, Joel’s eyes flicking to your throat.

His eyes seemed almost black, endless with lust as they honed in on you. On every tick and hum of your body. 

His hand tightened around your throat, not yet constricting your airflow, but playing with the fact that he could if he so chose.

A surge of liquid fire tore through your lower belly, making a home deep within you. 

"I think you did, sweetness", he hummed, licking his bottom lip, his nostrils flaring, "I can smell it on you". 

You fisted his shirt, unsure if you were trying to stop him from what he was going to do next, or steady yourself as you rode the impending wave. His grip tightened on your throat, and the other hand pulled your body flush with his.

Your pulse strummed, feeling him harden through his jeans. You felt his growing bulge push into your stomach. You were only wearing an oversized shirt yourself, your lower half completely bare and exposed, ready for whatever Joel was about to do to you. 

His face lowered and he dragged his scruff along your jawline harshly, his full lips ghosting over your already inflamed skin. You whined from the contact, practically keening at how touch-starved you felt.

Joel had complete control over your emotions and your body. He had two modes; rough and tender. And you knew exactly which one you were in for tonight.  

“Don’t lie to me now”, he started, his one hand tangling in your hair, yanking to the point of pain. “Just gonna make it worse for yourself”. 

You let out a broken moan, bucking your hips into his bulge, trying to distract him long enough to forget that you’d come without his permission.

But it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. He only tightened the hand that was around your throat, all but crushing your windpipe, causing your pussy to weep at how much you wanted him to fuck you. 

“Y-yes”, you admitted, choking on the words. You swallowed against the grip on your throat. 

Joel clicked his teeth, shaking his head. You could tell that he was disappointed in you, it was written all over his face.

He looked down at you through heavy lids, his pupils the size of saucers, the intensity making you shiver. 

“What am I going to do with you, huh?”. 

You ground your hips into his groin, eliciting a clipped groan from him. 

“Fuck me, Joel", there was an edge to your voice, as you rubbed your thighs together to ease the pulsating, “Please, baby. I’m so wet for you”. 

Joel grunted, features neutral as he glared at you. “Fucking is a reward, but you haven’t been good. Have ya, sweetness?”. 

Your body trembled at his harsh tone, hearing the intensity in his voice, how strained it was. 

He continued, “Gonna have to punish you”. You nodded, both ready and willing to accept whatever punishment he dealt. “Get on your knees”. 

You didn’t hesitate, Joel’s grasp releasing you as he stepped back, giving you room as you lowered yourself. When you were situated, you looked up at him, watching as he undid his belt. 

His movements were fluid, smooth, and confident as he dropped the belt to the ground with a dull clang. Buttons were undone, his zipper taunting he pulled it down slowly. Next came his jeans and boxers, shuffling them down his legs, letting them pool at his ankles. 

Joel’s cock sprang free from its constraints, finally. It slapped against his stomach, pre-cum already dribbling out from the tip, making the head glistening in the low light of the room.

You wet your lips, preparing for the breach into your mouth. He reached out, taking hold of your chin, looking down at you with admiration. 

"Don't say I didn't warn 'ya", Joel muttered as he released your chin, taking hold of his cock and fisting it. 

You watched him stroke himself rhythmically, taking his time with it, a low grunt leaving him when he stopped, eyes on you. 

"A little help, darlin'?", Joel asked, his voice stuttering in time with his breathing. And you immediately what he was asking of you. 

You let the saliva in your mouth pool in your cheeks, standing on your knees and letting a glob of spit drop from your mouth, dripping onto his shaft. He smirked at you, a pleased hum rumbling from his throat as he used the lubricant that you provided to continue stroking himself. 

Loud grunting tumbled out of him, beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face. Joel was practically in a cloud of lust as he gripped the back of your neck, pushing your face closer to his lower half.

You opened your mouth, your head in a tizzy as you inhaled his musk; a mix of salty sweat and his natural aroma invading your senses. 

With your mouth open wide he forced his member into your mouth roughly, not giving you a minute to adjust or breathe. His tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to momentarily sputter around him. But he wasn’t deterred, if anything, it only spurred him on more, witnessing you choke down his huge cock.

He demanded more, always more from you. You inhaled deeply through your nose as he continued to stuff his girth further down your throat. 

You unhinged your jaw as wide as you could, opening your throat to take more of him. You hollowed out your cheeks as Joel’s hand snaked back around to fist your hair, guiding your head as he began thrusting his hips savagely.

Your eyes watered from the intensity of his pace, trying to remember to breathe. Your head bobbed up and down his length, interchangeably suckling at the tip. 

"Mmm, you like sucking my cock, hm?”, Joel asked, his voice raspy, “Like choking on it like a good little slut”. 

You hummed around him, satisfied that he was enjoying himself. You used your tongue to bring him even more pleasure, licking a wide strip along the underside of it. Joel bucked his hips faster, yanking your head back and burying himself down your throat, to the hilt.

You gagged, your eyes dispelling the build-up of tears, your lungs burning from the lack of air. 

You could feel your whole body start to simmer, your inhibitions and fleeting anger at Joel withholding your orgasm from you, gone. Now you were only focused on one thing; making him cum. There was an influx of pressure coursing through you.

You wanted more, actually, you needed it. You reached in between your legs, barely touching your clit, the sensation driving you insane, and moaning onto Joel’s cock. His eyes snapped to you, noticing that you were touching yourself. 

"D'you think you deserve to come, sweetness? Hm?", he mocked, watching as your brows furrowed and you massaged your clit harder, "'Cause I don't think so". 

Joel grabbed your arm forcefully, keeping up his unruly tempo on your throat, his balls slapping hard against your chin.

You whined around his cock, feeling the swell of your orgasm just on the outskirts. 

"You've been disobedient, darlin', and we need to correct that", he continued, making you gag on his length, chuckling darkly.  

His jaw was slack, his head falling back as he grunted, feeling your throat acclimate to his size. Accepting that you weren't going to get off anytime soon, you concentrated all of your efforts on him.  

You decided to turn the tables on him, sitting back on your heels and puckering your lips, sliding them up and down his shaft. He groaned above you, his other hand joined the one in your hair, holding on for dear life.

You could feel him twitch in your mouth, signalling that he was close. You picked up your pace, sucking the tip and massaging his balls to bring him to the edge. 

Joel removed you from his length with a pop, saliva dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin, you were positively intoxicated from his cock, under its spell.

Confusion was written all over your face as he pulled back. He fisted his cock, fast strokes faltering as his whole body began to shake. 

"'M gonna cum, sweetness. Where do you want it?", he sighed, gasping for air as his eyes closed. You gaped at him closely, turned on by watching him lose control. 

"Want you to cum on my face", you said, low. 

"Fuck, you can't just say that to me".

Joel pumped his cock harder and it didn't take much before he was unloading his spend onto your face, painting you with his seed. Your eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the warmth of him on your skin.

His groans were deep and throaty as he milked himself of every drop. 

You felt a dollop of his cum run down your cheek, cresting the edge of your mouth. You opened your eyes to see him use his cock to wipe it up, shuffling it into your mouth.

You purred, licking up each drop like the obedient little slut that you were. When your face was clean, you stood up, leading Joel to the bed and straddling his lap. 

"Did I do good?", you asked, blinking up at him sweetly. 

He nodded, "You did so well, sweetness. Now lemme make sure you feel good too".

[bullet-prooflove]

Rio: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @volumesofforgottenlore@kmc1989@somethingdarkside17@noonee333

Terry’s warned you about the car. It’s a fire engine red 1967 Alfa Romero Spider, one that’s seen much better days. Cars like this in good condition cost ten grand, yours is not in good condition.

He understands the emotional connection to the car, your parents had picked it up for you after college as a graduation present. It’s the only tie you have to the both of them now that they’re gone.

When you’d got back to LA and brought it out of storage, Terry had known it was going to be trouble. It was in the stutter of the engine, the dilapidated roar. There’s a Duran Duran tape that’s been stuck in the stereo for over a decade and the passenger side intermittently unlocks. Everytime you climb inside the thing he gets heart palpitations.

When he gets the call in the middle of the night, it scares the hell out of him. You’re crying on the phone, there’s been an accident, you think the car is totalled.

“But are you ok?” He asks you, gripping the phone so tightly the plastic creaks.

“Yea,” You say shakily and he can tell you trying not to cry. “But the car…”

“Alright baby.” He says softly as he snatches up his keys. “I’m on the way.”

There’s already a tow truck on scene, along with the police when he arrives. He sees the red and blue lights flashing and his heart tightens in his chest.

The accident had taken place on a dirt road in El Sereno. You were driving home after dropping off one of the kids from the gallery when a drunk driver had hit your car, almost sending it careening over the edge of the hill. You were lucky it hadn’t been going any faster because that car, it has a soft top, he’s certain you wouldn’t have made it if it had rolled.

You put your thumb out to flag him down and he pulls up as close as he can. You’re a mess. There’s mascara streaked down your cheeks, blood running from your hairline down your features.

“Did you hit your head?” he asks worriedly, his fingers seeking out the source of the bleeding.

“No.” You say as he removes a handkerchief from his coat pocket and presses it to the wound. “It’s from the glass.”

When you glance over your shoulder the Romero is being loaded onto a flatbed. The passenger side where the other car hit you is obliterated, the metal contorted beyond repair. You take one look at it and burst into tears.

That night you’re inconsolable.

The loss of that car…

It’s like you’ve lost your parents all over again.

You cry yourself to asleep, your face buried in Terry’s chest as he holds you close, whispering sweet nothings into your hair.

The next day you’re exhausted, banged up and emotionally wrung out. He tries to get you to take a sick day but you refuse because you need to be busy. He makes you take a couple of painkillers before he drops you off at the art gallery where you work.

When he gets to the lot where your car is being held, the damage is worse than he realised.

“You may as well sell it for scrap.” His mechanic tells him as he studies the vehicle. “The repairs will cost more than the car is worth.”

“Money isn’t a problem.” He sighs as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Do you think it can be fixed?”

“It’ll take some time. The crash did a number on it.” The mechanic says as he smooths his hand over the twisted metal. “I can get it done though.”

It’s almost a month later that you wake up and find a silver box with a red ribbon perched upon your nightstand. It’s resting upon the book you’re reading about your namesake Georgia O’Keefe.

When you open it you find a car key inside, one that you recognise. It’s kind of Terry to give you a keepsake, he knows how much that car means to you, the memories that were attached to it.

“Thank you.” You say softly as you linger in the doorway of the kitchen in your robe and hold up the key. “It means a lot that you could give me something to remember the car by.”

“Let’s step outside.” He says quietly, his palm coming to rest on your lower back as he guides you towards the driveway.

You can’t believe what you’re seeing. Sitting there is your car, not ruined or torn apart, but brand new in pristine condition. Your fingertips trail over the bonnet and your throat constricts because you remember the nights you spent with your dad working on the engine, your mother singing along to ‘Rio’ as she revved it at his request.

“He left the tape deck untouched.” Terry tells you, his lips brushing over your temple. “You can sing ‘Hungry Like The Wolf’ to your heart’s content.”

It’s that attention to detail that makes you realise just how much this man cares for you. You feel a surge of something inside of you, a rush of love, of gratitude. Terry has no idea of the gift he’d given you, not really.

“Why don’t you go get dressed?” He suggests, tilting his head back towards the house. “Then you can come back out and take her for a spin.”

Love Terry S? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[edutainer2022]

A little thing riffing off the concept of Scott, probably, getting mistaken for Alan’s father quite often. It turned out sadder than I hoped.

DAD

The loose end of his scarf got tugged lightly and he swiped his hand low to catch baby brother's palm, without shifting attention from the rows of pasta on a stall. Allie had hop-skipped away to the end of the aisle, mumbling something about waffles for dinner, and now probably demanded his immediate input. His hand grasped nothing but thin air. A scarf, however, got another insistent tug.

The scarf was not an eye-wateringly expensive brand-name cashmere that would usually go with his coat and the "Tracy Industries appropriate" look, but was infinitely more precious. Long, blue, hand-knitted and a bit loopholed, it was a gift from Virgil his last Christmas on leave from WAF. It was rediscovered in one of Dad's drawers on the island, apparently a keepsake of the things the GDF returned to the family after Scott himself was lost in That Place. Now it was Scott's keepsake after Dad... A full circle.

Scott peripheral vision detected a movement of blond and skinny far down the aisle, as Allie was, it appeared, reaching up for his waffles. They were in NYC together. Not only the Tracy Industries Board demanded a piece of him for one reason or other, but Tracy Legal and the family private solicitor required tweaks in the custody documentation. Scott took the opportunity to show pre-Christmas NYC to Alan. The boy was only seven when they visited the last time, bar Dad's massive public memorial service Allie barely remembered, wrought with grief. Scott hardly remembered much of it himself through the blur of shock, pain, doubt, and a kind of fatalistic determination. Anyhow, it wasn't a ten years old Alan demanding his attention now. Scott looked down.

A pair of huge grey eyes regarded him from under a gigantic pink bow. A small hand was tugging his scarf again, like a doorbell string. Up from Scott's height the little girl seemed positively tiny. He folded himself down, not to intimidate the child. Even crouching, Scott was still towering over her.

"Hey, sweetheart! Are you lost?"

Attentive eyes regarded him, then a pink clad arm shot out to point at the general expance of the rest of the supermarket.

"Mommy 'der!"

In between Gordy and Allie, Scott was proficient enough in three year old speak. Johnny, it seemed, was communicating at AP English level all the way back at two, or not at all.

The little girl's mom was, obviously, "there" - but nowhere to be seen down the aisle and behind the shelves. Out of a years ingrained habit Scott kept half and eye on Alan, engrossed in comparative analysis of the various boxes of waffle mix. The prudent thing to do wound be to call a store employee - Scott was aware it would send an alarm if he, all of the imposing 6'4, Armani coat and a Young Jeff Tracy face of him, walked away with a little girl. But the nook of the store was empty of anyone in telltale uniform. Huge grey eyes kept regarding him in expectation of some effective Mom-finding action. An idea occurred. Scott bent down some more and made sure to smile.

"Is it okay if I pick you up, sweetie?"

The child gave it a moment's thought and nodded. Scott sprung up easily, the girl securely in his hold, and propped her up on his shoulder. Tiny pink shoes kicked the air (and his ribs a bit) excitedly. There was some enthusiastic waving going on above Scott's head, well above the shelves, and even more delighted squeeing:

"Mommy! Mommy! Look'er! Mommy!"

That produced a young woman with a shopping basket AND Alan, running to him from the opposite side of the isle. He transferred the eager girl into her mother's arms in a fluid motion and reached out without looking again, to stop Allie from colliding with him full force. Alan bounced in place and looked up at him quizzically. Scott put an arm around the boy's shoulders. He saw the mother's eyes widen in surprise, once she was done thanking him for helping out a lost Polly.

"Oh, is he yours? So big already!"

Scott's hand tightened on Alan’s skinny shoulder on instinct. He could see the boy's face shift from curiosity to confusion. And it could be a matter of seconds before confusion gave way to anger or worse - tears.

Scott himself was used to that. He was getting those questions ever since Mom was gone and he had to pick Allie up from nursery after his own classes. Tall for his age, athletic and marred by grief and way too many worries - he was definitely spawning a "teen Dad" rumor among the pick up line Moms and babysitters more than once. He didn't have the energy to explain to anyone not in the know back then, no more than he had the energy to explain their whole situation now.

"Um... Alan is ten. You have a Merry Christmas, Polly! Don't get lost again!"

He could see the math recalculated in an instant behind the young woman's eyes, as she counted silver threads at his temples, stark in supermarket lights, and dark circles under his eyes towards a higher age bracket she thought he was. He wasn't. Dad's explosion in Zero-X and everything that followed added to the silver That Place wove into his hair. And he hadn't been doing much sleeping anymore. He didn't think he ever would again. Before the conversation could lead any further down those lines, he offered another polite smile and steered Alan away toward the exit.

Scott managed to order a hovercab without breaking a stride. The original plan was to walk back to Tracy Tower, maybe look at some Christmas window exhibits. They spent the afternoon gift shopping for everyone back at home and Scott could tell Alan was getting tired. But the boy seemed exited for their special time together, even if part of it was spent in the boring opulence of the family law-firm. Scott promised to cook dinner, not wanting to foster with baby brother his own habit of take-away Tai and more work crunched through the night.

Now, pressed to the window of the cab, small frame leaning away from Scott (a fact that was sending sharp pangs through his chest), Allie was quiet and listless.

"Are you my Dad now?"

Alan was still looking outside the window.

Scott was seriously dreading that conversation, but the incident at the store, apparently, accelerated the inevitable.

He reached a hand to ruffle soft blond hair. Then landed his palm between hunched little shoulderblades. Alan didn't flinch, which was maybe a good sign.

"Allie! Dad is always Dad. But I am your guardian now, and I will do EVERYTHING to protect you! Just as always!"

Small bony shoulders shifted in a sigh. Alan was puffing fog on the glass and drawing shapes with his finger. The hovercab stopped by the entrance to Tracy Tower, but Scott made no move to break the moment and leave just yet.

"Can I call you Dad sometimes? I told Nikky you were my Dad, back in Kansas. Mom didn't come to pick me up, so I didn't want to not have Dad pick me up too, so I told him you were Dad. Is it okay?"

The words came out a bit jumbled and interlaced with pending tears. Huge blue eyes turned to look at Scott finally, anxious and glistening. His own eyes were burning. So was his heart. His very soul.

"Oh, Allie... Of course it's okay! Always!"

His arms opened invitingly and were instantly filled with a crying child. He leaned down to press a kiss on the top of blond head and hug the boy closer, wrapping his coat around a little trembling body. It took a moment to conquer his own heaving sobs, but he still didn't trust his voice at full volume.

"I love you so much, kiddo! I've got you!"

Scott ended up just carrying Alan, quiet by then, but firmly clinging to him, to the penthouse, while a concerned head of security shift helped out with the shopping bags. Allie was probably feigning sleep - Scott didn't care. He toed off his own shoes, shrugged off the coat, settled against his headrest, the child still in his arms, and shifted to tighten his hold. There would be no sleep for him that night either, but that was just as well. He had been watching over little Allie (and little Gordy) since he was born and a tenfold that after they lost Mom. No name or legal capacity could change much about that, till Scott was breathing.

He wasn't anyone's son, though. Not anymore. Not ever. And that made breathing so much harder.

[thebetawolfgirl]

Her Mr Chalamet

Pairing: Timmy x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Timmy’s attempt at being Dom, more Smut. Role play.

A/N: Timmy and I are on this particular journey together. Also I can’t speak French to save myself so you can blame Google Translate if anything is wrong!

Her Mr Chalamet

Y/n and Timmy were sitting on the sofa just relaxing with the radio playing in the background, Timmy was asking about y/n’s school life.

She went to a private boarding school for girls and Timmy was suddenly fascinated.

‘Did you wear a school uniform too?’ He asks quietly playing with her hair.

She smirked and nodded. ‘Yes, the full thing; plaid skirt, crisp white button up and black tie with the school’s emblem on it with a sweater, or a cardigan. Depending on the weather because it was in New England, so.’

She felt him squirm underneath her and she smiled as he cleared his throat.

‘And were you a good girl?’

She leaned up and whispered in his ear ‘No. I was very very bad. I was always being told to sit on the naughty step.’

He gulped as she felt his pants tightening underneath her and ground her hips down on him making him hiss.

‘You need to find that uniform!’

She smiled turning to face him and rested her chin on his chest looking at his now black eyes, ‘Is that an order, Sir?’

‘YES!’ He choked out before grabbing her crushing his mouth against hers.

Now here she was rooting through her storage boxes in the attic looking for her old school uniform while Timmy was at a meeting with his business partner.

She eventually found the skirt and tried it on. It still fit around her hips, but now it was halfway up her thighs, it was so short now. She hadn’t worn it the final week of school at 19, she smiled knowing Timmy would be drooling over the shortness of the skirt.

She rummaged through the box and found her shirt, she decided to cut off the sleeves so it wouldn’t cut into her arms but she didn’t touch anything else, knowing the shirt would be very tight across her breasts, she was looking for her tie when she came across Timmy’s school tie and smirked grabbing it instead.

She was about to text him but decided to call him instead and tapped his name and listened to the dial tone, he picked up on the third ring.

‘Baby? What’s wrong?’

‘No no everything is fine baby, I just wanted to let you know I found that box of ‘documents’ you asked me to look for?’

She heard him curse and spill something on the other side and smirked. ‘File marked T was missing but I found another file that will be adequate for our research.’

‘Tha-that’s really good y/n. We shall start that research tonight.’ He stammered over the phone and she smiled ‘Ok have fun with your meeting, love you.’

She hung up smirking knowing it would drive him crazy wondering what she had in replacement for her school tie.

What the hell was he going to come home too, Timmy wondered sitting in his office with his business partner his knee jiggling nervously. She couldn’t find her school tie, so what was the replacement? He tried to think of what else was in that attic, he had some old keepsakes from his own childhood stored up there.

The meeting finished earlier than Timmy expected and he practically flew out of the office and jumped into his car and went off for home, he drove into the driveway and jogged up the front steps and threw the front door open remembering to lock the door and even put the chain on.

‘Y/n? Y/n?’ He called her name walking through the house until he reached his office on the second floor. He pushed the door open slowly walking in, and found her sitting on his desk her legs crossed.

The skirt she wore was tiny, and he meant tiny. He couldn’t imagine how short it was when she last wore it at school, and the shirt was very tight across her breasts and she left some of the buttons undone, but around her neck,

‘Oh holy fuck!’ She was wearing HIS school tie around her neck.

She smiled watching him and whispered his name in a sultry voice.

‘Mr Chalamet, Sir. I’m ready for my first lesson.’

He walked over to her and wrapped his hand around her throat, and nudged her thighs apart with his knee standing between them.

‘First lesson, repeat after me: Je Suis à vous. Now say it in English.’

‘I. Am. Yours.’ She repeated his words never taking her eyes off his.

He gripped her thighs and dragged her towards him as she grabbed his shirt to steady herself gasping.

‘Who do you belong too?’ He asks telling her to speak French as he leaned down to kiss her neck.

‘Je t’appartiens.’ She stammered and it earned her a spank on her hip and she squealed ‘Timmy!’

Another slap across her thigh ‘Do you call all your teachers by first name?’

‘No, Sir!’ She gasps out as he undoes his belt and jeans and pulls her off the desk pushing her forward on the desk again and realised she was wearing no panties underneath her skirt and groaned ‘Breaking school rules for uniform regulation Miss y/l/n?’

He brought his hand down on her left cheek earning another shriek from her. He looked over her shoulder to see her biting her lip trying not to smirk ‘Something funny Miss y/n?’

She let out a breath ‘I didn’t wear panties for you Sir! Only for you.’

He grit his teeth and pushed his fingers inside her tightness making her whimper, moving her hips against his fingers ‘What do you want? Tell me what you want!’

She stammered as he shoved three of his fingers inside her and she gripped the edge of the desk.

‘Tell me. Say what you want!’

‘I want your dick inside of me!’

He growled and grabbed her hips in a bruising grip and slammed into her making her scream his name and began to rut his hips into hers.

He leaned over her and pulled her shirt down from the collar and bit down on her shoulder hard making her moan and throw her head back against his shoulder, she wrapped her arm around his neck gripping his hair and turned to kiss him hard.

He kissed back ramming into her from behind before turning her head to the side and removed HIS tie from her shirt and tied it around her wrists tightly before pulling out making her whine.

He turned her over before gripping her jaw and forcing his tongue into her mouth, kissing her hard. He ripped her shirt open breaking the buttons off, he pushed her back onto the desk before kneeling in front of her and began licking her pussy making her gasp, he gripped her thighs smirking and continued eating her.

‘Your punishment for disobeying the uniform regulations is you can’t cum until I say so.’

He head a guttural growl and knew if she wasn’t currently tied up with his tie she would be ripping him apart and making this HIS punishment. He would pay for it later when their little game was finished, he continued to devour her lapping up her wetness, sucking and pushing his tongue in teasingly. He was getting harder himself just listening to her groans and her whimpers as he ate her out, he heard her whispering his name like a prayer and knew this was her way of getting back at him without actually doing anything.

He could feel his cock leaking precum and had enough of this torture, he stood up crawling on to the desk on top of her and gripped her thighs holding them open ‘Fuck this. Just come for me!’

He rammed into her hard and deep and relished in her screams washing over him and collapsed on top of her continuing to rut into her knocking everything off his desk in the process, he untied her and entwined his fingers with hers as she shoved her other hand into his hair before pulling him up and crushing her lips against his in a hungry kiss.

He pushed her further up the desk with the force of his thrusts and ripped her blouse off her shoulders tearing the fabric to shreds as he felt himself approaching his release, he moved his head and clamped his lips around her nipple and sucked and bit down so they could come together and heard her shriek and felt her squeeze his dick making him come with her.

He buried his face in her neck and nibbled her skin shaking in her arms in the aftermath.

He felt his body completely melt under her touch as she swept her fingers through his damp hair and out of his face and whimpered.

‘You did great baby, you made a very good teacher and disciplinarian.’ He revelled in the praise and sighed nuzzling her neck.

‘No more teacher for me though. I prefer being the one getting coddled.’

She smiled and removed his soaked through shirt, tossing it and let him pick her up over to the sofa and laying on top of her again which made her chuckle.

‘I’ve spoiled you too much. You’re such a baby.’

‘I’m your baby. I belong to you!’

He mumbled against her neck nibbling on her skin making her smile.

He reached up and pecked her lips while kicking off his jeans and shorts onto the floor as she deepens the kiss, holding him against her, he pulled her on top of him and lay underneath her kissing her slowly.

She lifted her hips and sank down on him again making his breathing to become laboured and run his hands up and down her waist.

‘Fuck you’re a Goddess!’ She smiled and began to ride him rocking her hips against his before she leaned down to capture his lips in a deep kiss. He ran his hands up her back digging his fingers into her shoulders panting against her lips, she moved her lips down his jawline and bit and nipped his neck earning a whimper from him as she began to ride him harder into the cushions of the sofa slamming her hips down against his hearing him groan against her neck.

She sat up bringing him with her and saw his pupils blown jet black and kissed his lips gently in contrast to her hips slamming down on his before shoving him back down and riding him hard and wrapped her hand around his throat seeing his eyes widen.

‘Come baby!’ As she told him she felt him explode inside her his eyes rolling back into his head making her come after him and fell onto his chest gasping against his neck as she was still feeling his ropes shooting inside her.

She lifted her knees up on either side of his waist while sliding her hand underneath his back and pulled his hips up against hers feeling his nails dig deep into her skin as his cum went deeper into her and lay her head on his shoulder looking at him as he slowly came down from his post orgasm high.

She always loved how his orgasms lasted longer than hers, and how it took him longer to recover from them afterwards.

He moved his head tiredly and nuzzled his nose against hers before burying his face against her neck and sucked on the skin at her collarbone as she stroked his hair.

‘Sleep my sweet Mr Chalamet.’ She whispered against his ear as he sighed leaving his mark on her and wrapped his arms around her waist after making sure she was against the cushions while he lay on the edge of the sofa cocooning her.

She wrapped the throw over them and slid her arm around his waist before falling asleep.

@sufferingstarlight

@gatoenlaciudad

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@tchalamss

@mel-vaz

[littlemssam]

Mod Updates

As always delete old Mods Files and the localthumbcache when updating my Mods!

***

Added two new Growing Together Shelfs

More Visible Wall Objects

Scans can be storaged in Dorm Chest & Keepsake Boxes. The Phone Interaction is now called "Ultrasound Scan"

Ultrasound Scan

Upgradios supports Cribs, and the Treehouse (Growing Together) now

Improved Practical Spells

Added new Drinks: Power-Sip Cucumber (Dine Out), Moonpetal Punch (Werewolves), Power-Sip MIDNIGHT (Werewolves), Power-Sip LlamaBerry (Growing Together), Parental Punch (Growing Together), Baby Fever (Growing Together), Terrible Twos (Growing Together), Mom-osa (Growing Together)

Improved Spa Day Tablet

Fixed missing Icon for Users without certain Packs

Woodworking Table Rework + No Autonomous

 Added Lock/Unlock Options for Infants Only

Unlock/Lock Doors for chosen Sims

Added Support for Infants (only works for Infants on the ground)

Let Friends Age Up

Foster Pets (Foster Family Mod) & "My Pets" Pets (My Pets Mod) not affected anymore

No Sick, Dirty, Sad and Hungry Cats & Dogs

Added "Check Needs" Option to My Pets Pie Menu on Dogs & Cats. Clicking on one of the Needs will cheat fill them up! Click X if you just want to check needs

My Pets

Random Small Mods

Added Support for two new Books, and the XML Injector

Purchased Items delievered via Mail

Added Support for Infants (Renamed File!)

Auto Check Toddler & Infants Tweaks

***

Translation

More Servings Options & Better MealTime Menus - Added Italian by Rahl81 ( Stefano) Sul Sul Weather App - Update French by Kimikosoma Improved Meditation Stool - Update French by Seyjin Social Activities (Visit Friends, Family and more) - Update of Dutch by Alien

***

Don’t download these Updates if you have the Legacy Edition!

***

Support Questions via Discord only please!

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

totally random and don't know if you've been asked this before, i've read your fics and drabbles, i absolutely love your voice in them, considering how you write Ian and Mickey so well, i'd give a penny for your thoughts about Mickey's lil bridezilla notebook. do you think it's full of collage pages? mostly text? magazine scraps? does he color code shit? ugh i love him sm 😩

oh my god i forgot the most important thing!!!!!!! did he ever let Ian have a complete sneak peek through it? cause i think he probably skimmed through it with Ian while the planning was on board, but Mickey probably stored it somewhere safe as a keepsake after the wedding....what if one day Ian just happens to find it and looks through it fondly and Mickey catches him on the act, oops, they have a talk about it, idk, Mickey having a lil notebook just does something to my fragile heart 🤧🤧

hello 😌 thank you for asking - i do actually have some thoughts on this, in the way that i think mickey's wedding notebook goes through several stages.

i think at its creation, it's more of a dump-book. mickey's at his stream-of-consciousness, hunting-and-gathering phase. there's no organization - no rhyme or reason - mickey is stressed and overwhelmed and he's just gluing shit right into that motherfucker, filling the pages as quickly as he can turn them. he doesn't really have a Vision yet - he just knows he's gotta prepare for it, especially since ian doesn't seem too interested in making decisions.

come to jesus moment. mickey slaps down a stack of pictures he's cut out and goes to start adding them, only to realize he has no blank pages left. he's filled the whole thing. that can't be right, can it? it's a big notebook, and the stuff he just cut out for it is real good shit so he's gotta make room. gotta start from page one. gotta thumb through it and pull a 'wtf' face because he doesn't even like some of this shit? why'd he put it in here? tulips??? who did that! okay, time to pump the fucking brakes.

paring down. re-evaluation. ian walks into the living room one night and mickey's cross-legged in the middle of a sea of ripped papers. like some sort of hamster. ian thinks perhaps divorce is on the table, only to come closer and realize mickey's cutting shit out and pasting it into a new notebook, the glue stick caught between his teeth like a cigar (Alternate Title: Ian's Come To Jesus Moment.)

notebook 2.0 is born. there's significantly less...everything. the Vision is starting to come together. debbie gives him these little color tab bitches that he can stick between the pages so he knows where to put things. Music. Food. Flowers. etc. mickey sits down with ian again and flips through it, getting his thoughts on different things. out comes the big red marker - circling - crossing out - starring. he can see ian trying to sneak closer looks across the table, but mickey's grown very attached. it's his hopes and dreams in here, motherfucker! ian can look at it later. after he finds the chiavaris.

That Bitch. this baby is in her final form. mickey knows what he wants and knows he's got the power to haggle, secure, or steal it all when he's got his notebook tucked under his arm. she's also good and solid when he smacks lip over the head with her after he makes a passing comment about being a groomzilla. she is everything.

when he does finally see his notebook again after many years, it's because ian is thumbing through it, this teary, fond look in his eyes as he sits in a sea of boxes. mickey doesn't know if he should be embarrassed or proud or what. a lot of their wedding day ended up shifting on its axis for a ton of fucked up reasons, so as gorgeous as she is, a lot of her didn't actually get to see the light of day.

but ian is innnn lovvvve (aaaaat laaaaast my looove has come alonnnggg). so much so that for their ten year anniversary, mickey walks into their little get-together and immediately recognizes a ton of the details. like they've jumped out of the pages of his notebook and into reality ten years later. ian is a sneaky fucker! and mickey has excellent taste.

and he's just really glad that he cut out that disgusting tulip arrangement in his first notebook purge.

[ghostchems]

need the princess, the baby girl, the absolute girl boss that is trophy husband terzo making a nice meal for his partner (and maybe also making a nice meal out of them)

terzo is the ultimate wife guy! mdni! 18+ under the cut!

You slam your car door shut. Traffic had been unbearable that day and it took you almost two hours before you finally made it home. Relief has not washed over you yet. Anger is still bubbling up inside you and you may or may not have lost it at a few shitty drivers while trying to make it home. 

It had been a long day. Even though you typically enjoy your job, there are always bad days every so often and today was one of them. You were pulled in so many different directions and were up against several deadlines. The good thing about this job is that you were able to leave all of that at the office. Still, there are times when the stress stuck with you even after you had made it home for the day.

The minute you open the door, the scent of something delicious wafts to your nose. There’s clanging in the kitchen and you can hear your husband joyfully singing. You close the door behind you and all the sounds immediately halt.

“La principessa é a casa!” He sings and quickly exits the kitchen to come greet you. Terzo uses one hand to take your purse from you and the other slings around your waist. He presses a quick kiss to your cheek. “I am almost done making lobster ravioli, amore.” You lean against him and linger in his arms, longer than usual.

“Tough day, eh?” He whispers into the shell of your ear. You give a small grunt and nod against him. “Get comfortable, dinner is almost ready.” Terzo kisses you again, this time on your forehead. He then scurries on back to the kitchen and starts singing again, full volume. 

If it was anyone else, his overwhelming positivity would annoy you. But you think back to when you met. You both were in bad places. You didn’t know what you wanted out of life and he had left the only home he ever knew. He was miserable and bitter for a long time, even after the two of you started dating. Perhaps, you two weren’t right for each other when you came together.

But you two have grown so much since all those years ago. Neither of you wanted to get married and now, here you are, married with a home of your own. He is so happy and even with bad days at work, so are you. Coming home to him every day is what you look forward to.

You feel like a person again once you’re back down the stairs, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. The smile you are met with once you enter the kitchen makes your heart melt. 

“Thank you, Terzo.” You take a seat at the table as he puts your plate in front of you.

“Thank me? No, no, no. Thank you for working so hard today, amore. So, what happened?”

You explain your day to him and he hangs onto every word. He asks you questions and really tries to understand the ins and outs of your job. He may be the best listener you have ever met and you feel lucky that he is yours.

And the lobster ravioli is to die for, of course. You gobble it up between chatting with him about his day. He took care of some yard work and cleaned up the basement a bit. The basement is full of old keepsakes from the time he spent in the clergy and he had been going through the boxes little by little, saying goodbye to things that remind him of the tough times.

“I will do the dishes.” You declare.

“No, no, you’ve already done enough today, I—“

“Terzo. I am doing the dishes and you can’t stop me.” You giggle and he gives a dramatic sigh. It was always a “fight” but it was the absolute least you could do.

You finish the dishes quickly and come out to the living. Terzo is perched on the couch skimming through a magazine. You crawl next to him and snuggle up underneath his arm. He puts the tv on and the two of you mindlessly watch whatever shitty Netflix series is out. His hand rubs up and down your back, dipping just underneath your shirt to touch at your sensitive skin. 

“We must have our dessert.” Terzo hums after a while, his hands finding your waist and positioning you on your back. Before you’re able to respond, his face is between your legs, kissing at your inner thighs. You suck in a shaky breath as he tugs at your shorts and underwear and pushes them down. “You’ve been waiting for me to serve you this, no?” He grins at you and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

He dips down and runs his tongue over your already slick folds. Your hips jerk and he firmly placed his hands on your side to pin you down. Terzo’s lips find your clit, sealing them around it as he sucks and flicks his tongue across your sensitive bud. You whine softly, tilting your head back on the couch, your eyes fluttering shut.

He presses two fingers against your entrance as he slowly pulls himself from your clit. A deep moan rumbles from your chest and he chuckles against your stomach, pushing his fingers inside and curling them just so. Your legs tremble and your hips jerk again with a soft breath. His eyes meet yours and you can tell that he’s grinning again. He looks so mischievous, his raven hair falling into his face. 

Terzo pumps his fingers in and out of you, watching you intently and taking in your delicious sounds. He dips down and uses his mouth to work your clit again, groaning quietly at the taste of you. Even after all these years, he couldn’t get enough of you and you couldn’t get enough of him. He is devouring you as you arch your back, your hands falling to his hair. You tug at his locks as you grind into his face. He growls and adds another finger, his thrusts and curls growing faster. You moan deeply and finally the pleasure overtakes you and you’re left crying out his name as you cum against his face. 

He slides up your body and kisses you deeply, tasting yourself on his lips. You pull him in even closer and he nestles himself between your legs and he rests one of his hands on your cheeks. Terzo leans back from the kiss and the two of you just admire each other for a moment before he breaks into a sweet smile.

“I love you, amore.” He purrs against your lip and presses his forehead against yours. “I love you so much.”

[redrapscalian]

Stuffed Animals in Wayne Manor

Dick: Used to have an extensive collection, but after passing some of his down to his siblings, has closer to a dozen now. Most of them are in his closet, and two get a place on the bed, but he has them all on a biweekly rotation so none of them feel left out. They all have names and he loves them very much. He prefers ones that are perfect hugging size. Calls them “stuffies”.

Jason: Has four total. One he got from Bruce, a black cat, one from Alfred, which is a bear wearing a Batman outfit, one hand-me-down from Dick, a well-loved monkey, and a giant sloth that’s almost as big as him that he bought with his own money. All but the one he received from Dick are kept in his safe houses, and Dick’s stays at the manor on his bed. When Dick insisted he name the monkey, he dubbed it “Fucker” and Dick was appalled, the rest don’t have names. Calls his own “dumb toys”, but wouldn’t dare call his sibling’s plushies that.

Tim: Has a large collection of original Beanie Babies and keeps them all pristine and organized on a shelf in his closet. Has one stuffed animal on his bed from Dick, a golden retriever plush named Sunny (Dick named it), and every time he remakes his bed he puts her in the middle by his pillows where she belongs. Refers to them as “Plushies”.

Steph: Has a lot of stuffed bears of different shapes and sizes and a couple dragons from her childhood Dragon Phase. Also has a lot of Cursed Baby Dolls that are all mangled (Dick tells her they don’t count as stuffed animals, she is adamant that they are). Some are named, some aren’t, and all the dolls have names along the lines of “Anita Hoe”. Refers to them as her babies/stuffed animals.

Damien: Didn’t have any growing up, but Dick kept gifting him them because “every kid needs a stuffy”. Despite resenting the sentiment, he kept every single one and has a basket of them in his closet. A majority of them are various sea creatures and farm animals, and his favourite is a stuffed cow named Freya. It’s under his bed during the day and he sleeps with it at night. Every one of them has a name with a very specific and researched meaning, not that he’ll ever admit he’s named them. Refers to them as “Stuffed toys” with an eye roll.

Duke: Has a couple stuffed animals from his childhood. He doesn’t sleep with them or have them out, they’re in a box as nostalgic keepsakes. They don’t have names, but if he’s feeling homesick or just wants to look at them, he takes them out for a bit and just kind of smiles to himself. He has a lot of plushy keychains on his bags. Dick gifted him a Build-a-Bear wearing a custom Signal hero costume. Calls them “stuffies”.

Bruce: Has one bear from Alfred, it is named Batbear, and it sits on a dedicated place on a shelf. It’s been given to every child who’s come into his care at least once after a nightmare or a particularly bad mission, or just for comfort. It has seen many bad days, many tears, and many injury recoveries, but he makes sure to keep it in relatively good condition. The beans inside are heavy and so the bear is weighted to help with anxiety, and can be microwaved and used as a heating pad.