#is the neck bent or not? does it have a harness or not?

[shinybulbasaur]

I think my favorite thing about midvalley trigun is that no one can agree on what type of saxophone he plays because even canon itself is inconsistent

[hypnoneghoul]

my brain has thoughts, sir hyp

t4t mountaindew where dew kinda had a long day and he goes to mountain cus he wants his brains fucked out so mountain ties him up with vines and does exactly that

this is definitely not what you wanted from me but i had soft thoughts and here we are i apologize (divider by @ghuleh-recs!!!)

Dewdrop’s been sulking around unfocused and on edge the entire day, avoiding everyone as to not treat them…like shit, basically.

That’s exactly what he feels like and he needs to just stop thinking, but he’s physically unable to relax. On his own, at least, but he is not going to bother anyone, at least not before he gathers himself up enough to not snap at them for no reason at all.

That’s a plan, he thinks, staring at the toes of his boots as he shuffles back to the den to hole himself up in his room. He doesn’t see nor hear someone else walking the same corridor in an opposite direction until he bumps right into them, stabbing them with his little horns right in the chest.

“Ah–shit, sorry!” he whines, recoiling and looking up at the earth ghoul he walked straight into. Mountain’s brows are furrowed with worry but not for himself—Dewdrop’s horns are dull enough to not have done any damage.

“Are you alright, fire lily?” he asks, reaching a hand out, but hovering it over the other’s shoulder, not sure if he’s up to being touched at the moment.

“Yeah, just…” he takes a deep breath and straightens up—the fact that he was slumped over and not ramrod straight as usual is concerning in itself—to push into Mountain’s hand, “long day.”

The earth ghoul pulls him into his chest, wrapping those strong arms all around his small frame and caging him in safely. Dewdrop melts at the spot.

“I’ve got you,” Mountain mumbles. “Do you need a nap or–”

“Can you fuck my brains out instead?” the soft voice in which he says it makes it feel borderline comical.

The other chuckles, “Sure. Hop up.”

Dewdrop needs no further encouragement to bounce up, wrap his legs around Mountain’s waist and shove his face into his neck. The earth ghoul doesn’t turn on his heel to head down to the den where their rooms are, though, instead heading outside and in the direction of his greenhouse, the one where he has a nest set up.

He sets Dewdrop in it once they’re inside and he pulls back—despite the fire ghoul’s quiet whine let out at that. “I’ll get my strap, fire lily, you can undress.”

He grumbles but obliges as Mountain turns to a chest of drawers in the corner. Before Dewdrop knows it, the earth ghoul is back before him with a harness settled on his hips and a thick and long pretty green-marble dildo between his legs. If only Dewdrop had more energy in him, he’d lounge forward, dig his hands into Mountain’s love handles and nuzzle against the fake cock like a cat.

Why? He doesn’t really know, but he really loves when the earth ghoul puts that thing on.

“What do you need, love?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. They’ve been acting on that exact same scenario tens of times before; every time it’s one thing that Dewdrop needs.

“You can use the vines, make me helpless, but…” that part is easy, it’s the rest that never wants to crawl out of his throat, “love me?”

“Always, fire lily,” Mountain smiles. “I love you so much.”

It’s a blur after that. The ground below them rumbles slightly and all the plants around them start to rustle and creak as if wind has picked up. Except it didn’t and Dewdrop is well aware by now that it’s Mountain's power bringing them all to life for him. Thick vines come slithering up to him out of nowhere, wrapping gently around various parts of his body; wrists, ankles, waist. Soon enough he ends up suspended in a sprawled out position in the earth ghoul’s nest, arms spread and legs bent just enough for Mountain to fit in between.

He slicks up the dildo and pushes in and in until it’s snug in Dewdrop’s warm cunt, until the straps of the harness are digging into the back of the fire ghoul’s thighs. He doesn’t fuck him fast, but he fucks him hard and deep; every thrust still filled with affection.

Dewdrop’s brain effectively leaks out of his ears as Mountain fucks him and spills out completely as he cums, leaving him a limp, half-conscious mess of a ghoul. The other scoops him up and presses him to his chest with all his might, so hard both of them can hardly breathe, but it’s what Dewdrop needs.

He needs grounding, security; he needs to feel that he’s someone’s.

Mountain knows it all too well by now.

“You’re mine, fire lily, I’ve got you,” he mumbles into the already-sleeping ghoul’s hair. “I love you so much.”

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 5th

Collaring, Papa Emeritus III x Reader

Masterlist

Words: 2k

Warnings: Collaring and leashes; established relationship; power play?; dom!Terzo; sub!Reader; piv; vaginal sex; protected sex; clothed man, semi-naked woman; vaginal fingering; masturbation; choking; positive degradation; spanking; cunnilingus; squirting; cumswap (sorry not sorry); nipple play; free use?; body worship;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Terzo was already sat on the bed waiting for you when you entered the room, your frame decorated with black lingerie and harnesses. Terzo, after a long day at the Ministry filled with meetings and stressful actions, was still fully clothed in his suit, albeit missing the jacket. His legs were open as they often were when beginning a scene like this - he liked this posture because it made him feel powerful. In his right hand was a thick, black, leather collar, with a circular ring screwed into the middle of it. He fully intended to put you in that tonight.

“Come here, tesoro.” He requested softly. His voice was deep and smooth as it usually was in the bedroom, and it had you melting. You obeyed him and bent slightly at the knees, allowing him from his seated position to clasp the thick collar around your neck. Following a chaste kiss to your red lips, he then clipped a silver, metal leash to the collar. “On your knees for me.”

You placed yourself in front of him as gracefully as you could, your eyes never breaking the contact with his. You knew better than to make any movements or decisions. Papa was in charge now. Papa would tell you what to do.

“Touch yourself.”

Your hand immediately went down to your clothed clit and began to rub over the black cotton that covered it, teasing yourself for Terzo’s enjoyment. You immediately began bucking your hips in time with your movements chasing as much pleasure as you could from the muted touch. Your noises were soft but genuine, the pleasure was great but not enough to have you screaming. Terzo’s hand grasped onto the other end of the collar tightly, though his eyes were transfixed by your hand, obsessed with the way that it was moving and giving you the pleasure that he asked for.

“Does your hand feel good, tesoro?” Terzo asked, very much affected by your little show.

“Yes, Papa. Fuck! Not as good as yours, though. I l-love the way your fingers feel on me… inside of me.”

“Hmm.”

Your other hand moved from your thigh up to your breast, grasping it and playing with it to put on the extra show for Papa. Your fingers found the erect nipple poking through the delicate lace of the bra and began pinching and playing with it, giving Terzo an extra moan of satisfaction. All the while the pupils of his mismatched eyes were blown out, and staring at you with nothing but lust and adoration. You were pleasing him, you could see by the very prominent bulge under his trousers.

“Papa!” Whimpering his title was a sure fire way of getting him riled up. He wanted to seem powerful today, he wanted to remind himself of his position. Seeing you on your knees at his mercy was a sure fire way of doing that.

As the pleasure became too much you stopped your ministrations on your breast and instead clutched onto the loose chain of the leash, and your hand moved faster and faster over your clit, still trapped under the fabric of your panties. Meanwhile, your hole was clenching around nothing, screaming out for your fingers to fill it. But Papa hadn’t told you to move your panties, or even put your fingers inside you. So your hips continued to buck against the air desperately searching for the friction you craved.

Terzo loosened the leash (though it wasn’t particularly tight to begin with) and wrapped it a little around his hand. That same hand came to caress your cheek, the cold metal of the leash contrasting with the warmth of his touch. His thumb found its way into your mouth, and he watched with carnal interest as you began to suck on it, gliding over its length like you did with his cock. He exhaled deeply and mindlessly spoke, “Just like that.” At this point, his voice was hoarse and gravelly, but that word was so quiet you almost missed it. But you didn’t - and your fingers began to work over your clit even faster as you sucked his thumb.

He pulled his thumb out of your mouth and you gave the tip one final lick before he took his hand away altogether. “Will you cum for Papa, tesoro? Will you show Papa how good you feel being watched by him as you pleasure yourself, hm?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Are you close?”

“Mm-hmm.”

You continued to work yourself into a frenzy, rubbing quickly over your clit and applying more pressure. You looked at Terzo whose eyes were glued to your vulva, obsessively watching you work yourself over. At no point did he touch himself. He just watched. And that was the thought that drove you over the edge, and made you cum for him, stilling as your orgasm washed over you and had moans spilling from your lips.

“Che brava ragazza per tuo Papa. On the bed, tesoro. Ass in the air.”

You crawled across the floor then climbed into position, getting yourself ready for him as he had asked. You arched your back and placed your head onto the bed, allowing the roundness of your ass to really pop, and this earned you an appreciative smack to one of your cheeks.

He hummed admiringly. “My beautiful bitch.”

Another smack. This time, the hit was followed by him groping your offended cheek and pushing them upwards, in turn spreading your labia apart and over the gusset of your panties. “So wet for Papa. What a gift for me, eh? I was blessed by the Dark One, no?” With his hands still pulling your body apart, he dove into your cunt, licking the wet fabric of your panties and playing with your sensitive clit. The gusset was already soaked with the wetness of your previous release, but now it was just drenched. Terzo wasn’t much of a fan of this, and quickly moved your panties to the side, giving him full access to your sodden folds.

His tongue came down on your folds again, but this time there was nothing to dampen the sensation, causing you to cry out in sensitivity. As soon as his tongue was on you, however, it disappeared but soon replaced by two fingers poking at your entrance, sliding in with no resistance and immediately getting to work. Because of your position, his thick fingers curved downwards in order to hit that spot inside you that had you screaming. “Una ragazza di facili costumi, sì? Letting Papa do whatever he wants to you. Are you this much of a slut for my brothers? Or am I the only one who gets the privilege?”

“J-just you, Papa. I spread my legs only for you. Oh fuck, Papa, just like that, please don’t stop!”

“Do my fingers feel that good, tesoro? Good enough to have you wailing like that? Merda! Listen to yourself.” He began to finger you harder in order to make his point, the squelch of your heat getting louder with his roughness. “Acqua empia direct from Sathanas himself.” He bent down to lick and suck at your clit again. “More delicious than any wine.” The way his fingers were moving inside of you and how hard he sucked on your clit, you could feel yourself tipping over the edge. Without moving much, he spoke again. “Cum, tesoro. Bless me.”

After his instruction, you came for a second time biting into the sheets on the bed; your cum squirting from your body and onto his face. You could hear him slurping everything up as though he were drinking from a water fountain, moaning at your taste. He left you briefly to lie in front of you, propping himself up on his elbow. He lifted your head to meet him and kissed you deeply, transferring the cum he collected into your mouth. There was so much of it, it spilled down both of your chins and wiped away what remained of the paint around his mouth. When he pulled away from you, sinfully pink and swollen lips peeked out from behind the dramatic makeup, and had you gasping for air.

“Now it is Papa’s turn, sì?”

He stood and rummaged through his bedside drawer, pulling out a condom. He handed it to you for you to open, and while you removed it from its packaging, he unbuckled and unzipped his pants, freeing his cock from its confines. “Get Papa ready, per favore.”

You placed the rolled condom in your mouth and moved towards his dick, using your lips to unroll it onto him all the way down to the base. He hissed at the feeling. “Puttana.”

He knelt behind you, still fully clothed and ready to go. His hands gripped your hips, gave you one, hard spank, and thrust all the way to the hilt, not waiting for your cunt to adjust to his size. “Take it all.”

He immediately got to work, his hips snapping against yours quickly and hitting that spot right at the back of your pussy making you scream out each time. “Fuck, Papa!” You called. “Use me for your pleasure!”

Terzo always felt so good inside you, he was so thick and long and stretched you out so well. Usually by the time he was done with you, you were an aching, shaky mess on the bed, unable to breathe or even think.

You arched your back for him again, and moved your hips to meet his thrusts, making your ass jiggle more than it usually would. A string of Italian expletives fell from his mouth, each one telling you how much of a whore you were for him and how Hellish your pussy felt.

“A filthy succubus sent from Sathanas to tempt me into sin.”

His hand moved to your side to pick up the leash that lay forgotten on the bed, and he tugged it hard enough to make you rise onto your hands. He tugged once more, a little tighter this time to restrict your airways and make it difficult for you to breathe. He would periodically loosen his grip to let you gasp for air before he tugged it again and choked you.

Your own hand came down to play with your clit one more time.

“Always so tight for me, tesoro.” He watched the cream from your pussy gather at the base of his cock. “Always so wet and pliant.” Release. “I wish you could know how divine you feel. How this cunt gives me new life.” Tug. “I could conquer the world with you hanging off my dick. Fucking shit! Così stretto.” Release. “Perhaps I’ve been worshiping the wrong god all along.” Tug. His thrusting became faster and more erratic. The one hand that remained on your hip held on even tighter than before, like he was too scared to let go or you might disappear and leave him unsatisfied. Release.

“Papa! You - fuck! - You’re gonna make me cum!”

Tug. “Tell me, tesoro! Tell me how good I make you feel.”

“No one could compare, Papa!” Release. “No one could ever make me cum as hard as you. I’m yours! I’m always yours. Fuck, Papa, I’m so close. Please!”

“Cum on my cock, tesoro. Give Papa your pleasure!”

Your cunt tightened around him to an almost suffocating level. It was so difficult for him to move inside you as you hit your third orgasm of the night, choking underneath the collar he put around your neck. More of your sweet nectar spilled out from your cunt and drenched his pants in it, soaking the sheets underneath you. This caused Terzo to thrust one final time inside you before emptying his load into the condom, the very same thing he cursed when he realised he wouldn’t get to see his seed drip out of you the way he wanted to.

When he was spent, he collapsed onto the bed next to you, breathing hard. His lips found yours again and pulled you in for a desperate kiss, tongues rubbing together with need. That was when he finally removed the collar from your neck and replaced it with his hand. The collar was thrown to the floor in disregard and made a loud clunking sound as it made contact with the wood. Terzo didn’t care, he just pulled you into him and held you, his lips still kissing at yours claiming the intimacy you both needed. He was yours, and you were his. And that was how it was to remain.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[glittercake]

would you ever write more sam in lingerie? 🫣

Here you go, Anon:

E | 800w | some more lingerie here | and another one here.

Getting undressed after missions is honestly the highlight of Bucky’s day. He can't wait to get rid of all the straps and leather and buckles that protect and bind him, kick his boots off and feel the cold tile under his feet. 

Sam’s quick to unbuckle the suit, too. And, alright, perhaps Bucky lied. This has got to be the highlight of his day. He always loves watching Sam suit-down, watching his worn knuckles work that zip open from his neck to his navel. The way he lets the top half hang around his waist while he stretches his arms and cracks his neck. It’s enough spank bank material for a lifetime. Never mind that he gets to take Sam home every night, have him all to himself in all kinds of dirty ways. 

But tonight, when Sam slides the zipper down, Bucky’s in for something else entirely. 

At first he’s not sure he’s seeing correctly. He is one hundred and seven goddamn years old and maybe all those years are finally catching up to him. 

He squints, tilts his head sideways, but then Sam catches him looking and smirks, and Bucky just knows he’s not mistaken.

Because, yeah, underneath the stealthy navy blue and muted silver vibranium, there’s a glimpse of scarlet lace peeking out. 

“Sweetheart,” Bucky says, dropping his gun harness on the carpet. He can’t tear his eyes away from Sam’s chest. Thinks he’s gotta be dreaming. “What the fuck is that?”

“What’s what, Buck?” Sam’s got that pretty little smile dancing across his lips. One that is all too insinuating for how innocent he’s acting. 

“No, come on,” he says, goes over. Sam lets him yank the suit open, slide it down his arms. “Jesus fucking Christ?” He looks at Sam—who has an infuriatingly content air about him—but his eyes struggle to focus on one place. 

The lace is so delicate he thinks one solid tug could rip it apart. It spans over Sam's chest, little satin strings looping the balls of his shoulders to hold it up. Bucky’s thumb slips underneath. Sam’s battle warm skin and the smooth fabric sends an electric vibration up his left arm and it gives a deep mechanic purr. 

“Oh, that got you going, huh?” Sam licks his lips. Bucky’s eyes flip up to him when he speaks. His brain’s going way past the speed limit, trying to comprehend this. “There’s more, though.” 

“Darlin’,” Bucky says, incredulous, “what more could there possibly be?” His eyes fall back to the red lace clinging to Sam’s skin. He wants to yank Sam’s body against his, has an inexplicable urge to press that dainty material against his rough leather gear and buckles, wants to see the contrast. Wants to feel it. Wants to fuck Sam just like this bent over the counter. 

And then Sam slips the suit over his hips and there really is more. God, there’s more. That was a dumb question.

Same delicate lace, same bright red, draped over the dips that cut down from his hip bones to his dick. 

“Fuck,” Bucky says, he frowns then looks up. “You had this on the whole goddamn time?” 

Sam shrugs. “Maybe. You like it?” he laughs, steps out of the suit so it’s just him in this get-up standing in front of Bucky. 

“Sweetheart, that ain’t the word.” He smooths his hands down Sam’s sides and Sam arches into the touch. Bucky slips his fingers underneath the thong’s straps and pulls, watches it dig into Sam’s skin. He lets his fingertips travel forward until he reaches Sam’s bulge trapped behind the lace. He pauses, careful with the dainty fabric, then traces his finger tip ever so gently along the thong’s seam and Sam’s shaft.

Sam shudders from the bare touch, dick twitching in its confinement, and finally leans in to kiss Bucky. And that does it, it derails any other thought Bucky has going on. He scoops Sam up, lowers him to the floor, and gets his mouth on the lace. 

Sam grabs at his hair, and for a second he regrets growing it out because it stings, but that soon melts into a feverish want in his gut. He bites down, gets a good mouthful of Sam’s pec and red lace in his mouth, sucks his nipple through the fabric. Feels Sam squirm beneath him, urging him on. 

“Shit, baby,” Sam says, reaches between them and gets Bucky free of his zip, lines them up—bare skin on lace—and then sighs like it's balm on a wound for him. “If I knew this was all I had to do to get you on me—”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky cuts him off, groans when his cock finally rubs up against Sam's. “Fuck—All you gotta do is look at me, you know that.”

Sam bites at Bucky's bottom lip, tugs at it with his teeth, and smirks because he knows. Of course he knows that.

He’s known that since they first laid eyes on each other.

[darkwood-sleddog]

Hello

I was wondering if you could take about what you look for in a sporting dog's conformation, especially for draught work, particularly what parts of the conformation you look at to determine soundness? What does good movement look like in a dog? What does bad confo and movement look like? Are you able to get an idea of what a dogs confo is like/how sound the dog will be when it's a puppy?

(Question from curiosity as I realised that while i know this stuff about horses i didnt know a thing about dogs and then i starting wondering what dog people look for)

Let me preface this with the fact that I'm not a breeder and I also don't advocate for inexperienced clients choosing puppies, I'd much prefer an experienced breeder or mentor that works their dogs in harness to do that. Additionally there are some other draft breeds, such as the Greater Swiss Mountain Dog and other carters, that I am not familiar enough with to make assessment of their similarities with freighting sled dogs, although I'd guess they share a similar need for correct moderate angulation and bone.

Freighting sled dogs, while bigger than racier sledding types, should still be an agile dog, not coarse or overly heavy. The depth of chest is approximately one half the height of the dog at the shoulders with the deepest point being just behind the forelegs. The sternum should not be overly protruding but should be able to be felt, chest should be muscular upon inspection in mature dogs.The dog should be ~slightly~ longer than it is tall with a thick, muscular neck and a level, if not slightly sloping top line.

(Above: Correct malamute with correct top line)

(above: incorrect top lines)

(Inuit Qimmiq during Ivakkak showing level top line and correct ~slightly~ longer than tall proportion)

Good feet and joint construction are essential to all sled dogs. With freight dogs they should have perfectly straight front forelimbs with the elbows close to the body, but still able to move freely.

(above: examples of incorrect front constructions)

(above: Canadian Qimmiq showing correct front construction and good bone, foot proportion and overall musculature)

The carpal joint should be strong and flexible, the pasterns only slightly sloping with good elasticity and are short in length compared to non freight dogs.

(above: examples of bad pastern construction).

(above: correct front and pastern construction)

Rear legs should be muscular with the width of the thigh carrying down to the hock, the stifles are well bent. From the rear back legs will appear straight.

(above: incorrect rear construction)

(above: correct rear construction)

(above: Greenland dog team showing uniformity in rear construction, good muscle tone and good thickness of bone).

The dog should have thick bone and appropriately large feet for holding up that bone. Feet are a large, rounded snowshoe shape, neither a hare foot or a cat foot, and large in proportion to the dog. Toes should be arched with thick paw pads. Back paws should be slightly longer than the front paws.

(above: incorrect foot construction)

(above: Slash and Zombie showing correct foot size and proportion in relation to the dog. Note that Slash is the ideal freighting height and weight for a Malamute, but his feet are as large as Sigurd's (we've measured), who is 5" taller and 20 pounds heavier.)

(above: various Greenland Dogs. Notice the proportion and size of the feet.)

Movement of a dog will also be indicative of its construction and quality for work: freight dogs should have steady, efficient movement (a fluid, tireless trot is ideal), and should never appear choppy or paddling. Freight dogs do not single track, but tend to converge on a center line when speed increases.

(above: correct relaxed movement, notice where the front toes are in the reach of the dog)

(above: Sigurd showing correct movement over uneven ground).

(above: various working bred malamutes showing relaxed trots).

(above: Greenland dog team in various gaits, again notice where the front extension is during movement).

(above: Qimmiq participating in Ivakkak showing various gaits of correct movement)

While freighting sled dogs also have other qualifications I'd look for overall (correct coat type and head shape to work in an arctic environment), sled dogs are overall built from the ground up. I'd much rather have a dog with correct feet, angulation and muscle tone than I would a dog that does not have those things but has correct coat type and breed ideal head shape.

The above descriptions are consistent across all of the freighting sled dogs. If you're interested they are here: The Alaskan Malamute Illustrated Standard (where I have pulled some comparative images), The Greenland Dog Standard, The Canadian Eskimo Dog (Inuit Qimmiq) Standard, and the Dog Qualifications as described for the Ivakkak Traditional Sled Dog Race (Inuit Sled Dogs ONLY allowed).

THIS video from the Alaskan Malamute Club of America is also very helpful when it comes to understanding correct movement.

I also recommend: Structure in Action, The Makings of a Durable Dog for those interested in canine conformation for various types of work and performance.

[baeklination]

Yuletide Playaround

Date: 251202

Warnings: eating out, fucking

Pairing: Baekhyun x F. Reader

WC: 850

NOTE: Just a little something for Christmas. I tried to get it out yesterday, but work-week. Hope you're having a good one.

Masterlist

¤¤

Baekhyun's already halfway down the buttons of his shirt when he walks into the dressing room. Slightly tilting his head, he squints and snorts, draping his shirt over an armchair before picking up the object of his curiosity. 

"What's this about..?", he asks, putting the antler-diadem on. 

"Got them at lunch. For the festive mood. You know how Gary likes to fuss about."

"You wearing it tonight too?"

You laugh at the idea of carrying on a conversation with the other members of Baekhyun's cabinet while rolling up your stockings - it'd be a memorable look, no doubt.

"Do I look like Bambi?", he continues behind you. 

"Wasn't he a kid? Not quite, honey."

"Just a plain reindeer then…"

"Sadly."

His hands run smoothly across your stomach over your silken slip to hug you tightly from behind:

"So, you wanna ride me?" 

"You don't ride deer, Baekhyun. They wear harnesses."

"Oh, you're in that type of mood…" Although joking, his voice is low and heated against your neck as his hand finds its way to the hem of your dress, lifting it up to push your underwear down. Through the thin fabric of your dress you feel the back of his hands brushing against your backside when he undoes his trousers. While pushing them down he stays down, running his palms up your cheeks, squeezing, then spreads them and inhales through his teeth. You grab the edge of the dresser and lean forward - so does he. With a hum his mouth covers your entrance in a soft kiss then traces upwards to the lower part of your clit. 

His thumbs touch delicately on your folds when he pushes them apart; his soft, wet, tongue licks with gentle passion. 

Not being able to reach all the way, he beckons you to turn around with a light nudge on your hips. No convincing needed, you put one foot on a drawer handle, spread your folds and feel fluids running out around your hole.

Enveloping your clit and then some with his sweet mouth, he softly sucks, kisses, with a secure gaze, drawing pleasure from the sight of you; opening your mouth, holding onto the edge while trying to keep your body still. 

The tips of his fingers caress the electrified skin around your entrance before pushing in with ease, stroking you from the inside in the same sensually languid pace as his mouth. How badly you want to roll against him; tangle your fingers in his hair so he won't move, and grind on his wet mouth until you come. 

The shiny material of the stockings makes it hard enough as it is to keep your foot firmly planted - so it doesn't help when Baekhyun pumps faster and begins lapping, sometimes sucking on your clit, at times moving away to catch his breath which lets you see his glossy fingers sliding in and out, bent ones on either side of them.

When he decides to pull your orgasm through he licks and licks, keeping his red tongue pointed against your clit, playing with and pushing on it.

And finally, when your thigh automatically pushes inward, you let go of the edge and grab hold of his hair, trapping his tongue on your beating clit, coming in his mouth. 

Even through the come-down he keeps kissing, firmly sucking while you whine, rolling to hungrily receive this painful pleasure. 

It's with both regret and gratefulness you let go of his hair when he moves back. 

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and fiery eyes, he gets on his feet and hoists you onto the dresser, pushing his hardened length down. Still sensitive, his cock sliding in through your slick entrance and further in feels even more than usual, tickling your clenching inside.

Placing his palms just beside you waist he doesn't fuck with the same patience as he licks; thrusting in a steady medium pace, here and there hugging your lips with his own. His eagerness is without a doubt partly due to your tight post-orgasm pulsing around him, something he expresses with husky gasps.

Even though you're openly doing as you wish here in the privacy of your own home Baekhyun's neatly hung up blazers envelops you, brushes against you, in a way that makes you feel almost hidden away - like that time he heatedly pulled you into the coat room where he worked years ago.

It doesn't take long before he puts his hands on the back of your thighs and straightens up, making it easier to push faster while he gets to clearly see himself disappear into you with wet claps against your shiny pussy. 

His brows are knitted, jaw tense with anticipation while he keeps his pounding tight, moaning and swearing in huffs to give away the oncoming orgasm - then relief and pleasure inundates him.

"Argh..!"

His jaw goes slack and eyes go out of focus under their fluttering lids as he releases his cum into you; his firm rolling shoving you backwards, each time with a delicious jolt from the head of his cock.

"Ah….mmm….mmm…"

[miscling]

The toybox

I've been meaning to do this for a while, to put together a few pics of the various bits of kinky this and thats that I've been getting over the years. I'll update this as I take new pics and so on. I am informed that this is a lot. I didn't think it was a lot, but it is.

This is mostly meant to be a companion to my ask tasks list so that people who want to get really creative with a task can see what I've got to work with, though this is not gonna be everything I've got about the place so it's still worth asking if there's something not pictured here.

So there's the hitty things and the tickly things. Using these on myself can be a little hard but the silver paddle in the hitty things pic is pretty easy to use on myself. I haven't had much success with self-ticking though. I do have my nestie who can be called upon to do some hitty/tickly things too. The last thing on this line is my tens unit, this is new and I haven't played with it much, which is why it's not on my ask task list.

My pile of restraints is far bigger than what's pictured here, but this is what's most effective at what it does. I've got several 10m bundles of rope, two 5m bundles, a matching set of locking pink cuffs with a collar, two spreader bars, and three sets of stocks. One with neck and wrist holes, one with ankle and wrist holes, and the last with all three. I also have a large metal bondage frame that secures me kneeling, bent over with my arms and legs spread out.

The mitts there should really be in with the petplay bits below, but I am also a bit of an escape artist (I don't mean to be, it's just that as soon as I know I can escape, I sorta just do) so these are as useful at keeping me bound as they are good for pet time.

I have tape and cling film about the house, too. The last pic is my collection of gags. From top to bottom, a harness which has a small penis gag, a ballgag (my favourite), an inflatable gag, a good old bit gag, and the bottom ball gag has a long deep-reaching penis attached to it that I'm still trying to get used to.

Lastly is the petplay stuff. The first pic is a set of crawling restraints that take forever to get on and needs a second pair of hands to manage. Very fun to play with, when there's enough time and energy to play with it. The last one has some collars (I forgot to take pictures of the leads that came with them too), a tail-plug, some nipple suckers, and a couple of pegs i guess? I do have some clover clamps but they are way too harsh for me to use in ask tasks and online play.

I could take pictures of all the various dicks, dildos, and plugs I've got about the place too, but I'm trying not to push my luck on here. I've got two plugs and a chastity belt that keeps them in place. Because my various holes have varying levels of tightness, I use a realistic dildo for sucking, a somewhat smaller one for my cunt, and a different one for anal. I've got strap-on harnesses too.

I've also got two egg vibrators (for simultaneous front and back), a magic wand (and a harness to hold a magic wand in place), and my two lovense vibrators (an egg vibe and a clit vibe).

If there's anything missing you think I should have, you should definitely let me know, too. I've got plans to catalogue my control-wear and fetishwear, though it might be a bit before I get there with all that.

[zoyaofthegardvn]

for a request could you write a Crier’s War fic? I feel like they’re such a criminally underrated ship, I’d love for you to write something for them since you have flawless writing skills

Butterflies

Crier x Ayla (Crier's War)

A/N: Awh, thank you so much for that kind compliment! That really means so so much to me! <3 I love Crier and Ayla so much, Crier's War was one of the first fantasy books I read when I was getting back into reading, and the first sapphic book I read which really helped me come to terms with my own identity! I will always love them so much. I've been wanting to write for them, but I guess I haven't had the proper motivation. I'd love to whip something up for them, though!

~~~

Crier sits next to an open window in the library, the breeze making the loose strands of hair in her face flutter around, tickling her. Her nose scrunches at the sensation, but before she can move the hair from her face, another hand is rising up, tucking the lock behind her ear, doing it for her.

Crier looks up at Ayla, into her dark brown eyes. "Thank you," she says, ever polite.

Ayla smirks, "You're welcome, my love."

Crier swears Ayla does it on purpose, calls her these terms of endearment, just because she knows what it does to her. Weeks ago, they'd been laying in Crier's bed, Crier's head on Ayla's chest while she carded her fingers through her har. Crier had confessed that being near Ayla, when Ayla touches her so gently and talks to her so sweetly, it gives her a... funny feeling, in her stomach.

Ayla had jokingly asked if being near her made Crier feel sick, to which Crier immediately sat up to look down at her.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course it doesn't make me sick!"

Ayla was laughing, of course she knew what Crier had meant. But she always loved to antagonize her, just a bit. It was too easy.

Ayla had asked her to describe the feeling, and Crier did. "I-It feels like, like maybe there's someone, running around in there? Like it feels warm, a-and funny... like I'm being tickled from the inside out."

Ayla had smiled and nodded, reaching up to tug on Crier's arm, bringing her back down for another cuddle.

"I know what you mean, it's the butterflies. That lovesick feeling. I feel it when I'm around you, too."

Crier had nuzzled her face into Ayla's neck, she breathed in her scent, pine and woodsmoke. "You do?" She whispered against her skin.

Ayla just nodded, rubbing her hand up and down Crier's back, soothing any embarrassment she might have caused. "I do, Crier. Of course I do."

Now, in the library, golden eyes glinting in the sun, Crier, who wants to know everything can't help but welcome the... butterflies, as Ayla called them. She adored the feeling, even more now that she knows exactly what it is. And especially knowing Ayla feels it too.

"Do you feel them right now, too?" Crier asks shyly.

Ayla looks at her in confusion, "Feel...?"

"The butterflies?" Crier finishes for her, tone serious and eyes trained on her.

There's a moment of silence before Ayla bursts into laughter, tears leaking from her eyes. She's bent at the waist, doubled over from how silly she finds Crier in this moment.

Now, it's Crier's turn to look confused. She's a bit stung really, wondering if maybe she's too in love with Ayla, that she's feeling this emotion so often.

Ayla's laughter dies down a bit when she catches sight of Crier's stricken face, feeling a bit guilty for disappointing her. She can't help the remaining giggles, though. Crier's just too damn cute.

"Crier, my love, that isn't something you typically ask someone. Have you been thinking about it, all this time? If I feel it at the same times that you do?"

Crier looks down at her hands in embarrassment, whispering a gentle "Oh" under her breath at the knowledge she might have invaded Ayla's privacy.

Ayla feels guilty, never wanting Crier to feel ashamed. She stands from where she sits across the table, coming closer to Crier, taking the seat next to her and scooting as close as she possibly can.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you, Crier. I just found it funny, and cute. That's all."

Crier nods, still refusing to make eye contact with her girlfriend, her soon to be wife.

Ayla sighs, placing a hand under Crier's chin, bringing her head up so that she can really look at her.

"Crier, I doubt we always feel butterflies at the same exact time..."

She doesn't speak, she just waits for Ayla to continue.

"I feel them when you're asleep, when I wake up before you and see you clinging to my arm. I feel them anytime you speak at council meetings, when you stand up and take control of the room," she runs a thumb over Crier's bottom lip, "I feel them when I watch you read, when we swim together and you laugh every time I dunk you under the water. I feel them when you forgive me too easily, and when you kiss me, Crier, I feel like I'm going to burst because the feeling is so strong."

Crier smiles now, gentle like most everything she does. This time, when she breaks eye contact, it's not because she's embarrassed. It's because she's overwhelmed.

"Look at me, Crier." Ayla says, leaning closer to her love.

Crier does, and in just a quick moment, their lips meet, molding together like they were made to do so.

In this moment, neither one of them doubts what the other is feeling. It's love, adoration, complete and utter worship.

[90363462]

Getty Images

6 Sex Positions To Try During The Next New Moon

The New Moon is here to take your sex life to new levels. 

Kiarra Sylvester

Apr. 29, 2022 06:00PM EST

The moon moves in phases, which have been said to sync up with menstruating people – both phases last approximately 29 days. When attuned to the needs of self, menstruation will either sync with the Full Moon (red moon cycle) or the New Moon (white moon cycle). Legend has it that those who are in sync with the white moon cycle are “most fertile” or simply ready to become a parent, while the red moon cycle provides an opportunity or signals your alignment with your passionate, open-minded, and sexual self. 

So you can imagine how each might contrast when it comes to the sex you might have at that time, especially because the moon represents not only the mother but the emotional self. I would argue that the New Moon provides an opportunity for a more intimate, traditional loving-making type of sex while the Full Moon provides an opportunity to explore. It is said to be the time when women are the horniest, which makes sense if you’re aligned with a red cycle since the New Moon is also when you’re typically ovulating. 

That doesn’t mean that we can’t spice things up a little during the New Moon though. In case you haven't figured it out by now, we thought this might be a good opportunity to give you some sexy, new sex positions for you and your partner to try during the next New Moon and every one that follows.

Here are 5 positions to help you harness that New Moon energy, and have other things realigned. 

1. Missionary 

Let's not be quick to dismiss this position as we all too often do (though the girls that get it, get it). Not only does missionary provide intimacy, but it comes highly recommended for those who are indeed ready to have children. The gravitational pull of the position makes it easier for the sperm to get where it needs to be.

2. Legs on Shoulders

Similar to the missionary position, this position increases the odds of pregnancy at an already fertile time (so to speak). However, it’s even better because your legs being raised and the overall slanted position of your body not only further gives the little swimmers an advantage, but it also places you at an angle. It provides a similar impact to having a pillow underneath your back.

3. Spooning

Though this position can be a pain in the ass trying to get into, it’s well worth it once you’re there. It provides slower backshots, forcing your partner to pace themselves and allowing them to trace kisses on your neck and shoulder area.

4. The Laptop

This position combines a sitting position with the legs on the shoulders position, asking you to take things a little higher. You may have already imagined it but just in case – paint this picture. Your partner sits in a chair (most any kind will do) and you will sit in front facing them. You can even start with a little reverse cowgirl while here but to kick things up a notch, you’ll want to reposition your legs to straddle their neck (there should be a bend in your knees). 

It does call for some flexibility but there is some wiggle room so you aren’t in such cramped quarters. This also allows for anal play – an added benefit if that’s your yum.

5. Standing

While I personally despise any standing sex position that’s not me bent over (because yes I’m a bit lazy), I do want to focus on face-to-face standing. After all, there is something about a partner who can carry their own weight and yours too! In order to get in this position, it may be easiest to be near a wall when your partner goes to pick you up. Once you’re up there, you won’t want to “stand” tall and erect, instead straddle your partner's waist, allowing them to penetrate you with kisses amongst other things.

6. Lotus Blossom

The lotus blossom is another sitting sex position! But even better than the other, is that it doesn’t require much flexibility. For this position, both partners will need to sit, one will immediately go into a criss-cross-applesauce movement. The other partner will sit on top of the primary partner, straddle, and then wrap their legs around them. Once everything is settled and you are comfortable (you may have to explore this a little), the bottom partner will insert a toy, digits, or their penis.

The face-to-face positioning of (most of) these…positions allows for you to make eye contact and physical contact with your partner. You can pull them in closer for kisses or just generally embrace them. As I mentioned before, there’s a real traditional sense of intimacy to them because as you will know intimacy comes in many forms. 

For an added touch of intimacy, try these positions while bathing under the New Moon – if and only if you have the access to privacy underneath the moonlight. 

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Featured image by Getty Images

Achieve Your Wildest Dreams With This New Moon Ritual Bath ... ›

What the Scorpio New Moon Means for Your Sex Life ›

How to Use the Full Moon to Boost Sex - Astrology Moon Cycle Sex ›

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Kiarra Sylvester

Motor City native, Atlanta living. Sagittarius. Writer. Sexpert. Into all things magical, mystical, and unknown. I'll try anything at least once but you knew that the moment I revealed that I was a Sag.

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[lesgetittkookie]

i'll always be there for you • jjk

⤖ genre: fluff, smut, boyfriend, domestic

⤖ pairing: boyfriend!jeongguk x nurse!reader

⤖ word count: approximately 2.1 k

⤖warnings: mentions of death

⤖ summary: in which you were having a rough day but jeongguk is always there to make you feel better.

Stepping out of the shower, you grab the white towel off of the towel rack mounted to the wall right beside the door. You wrap it around your body, tucking a corner at the front of your chest.

You hear the soft humming of your boyfriend in your bedroom, causing your lips to pull up into a smile. You're standing in front of the double sinks, opening the cabinet full of all of your facial products. Pulling out the green tea toner and moisturizer, you begin to do your nightly routine.

Your wet hair is dangling against your back, water dripping onto the fluffy white mat you're standing on.

"Baby," Jeongguk calls you through the door, lightly knocking on the bathroom door.

"Come in," You respond as you gently massage the skin of your face with the moisturizer. Your eyes don't leave the mirror when he opens the door.

"Hey," He says, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. He watches you with a smile on his face, admiring the curve of your figure clad in the white towel and slightly bent over the sink.

"Hi," You give him a smile through the mirror, patting your middle finger beneath your eyes. You notice him wearing nothing but his grey sweatpants, chest unclothed, showing off his muscled and toned body.

You don't think you'll ever get use to how hot your boyfriend is. With broad shoulders and a tiny waist. The tattoo sleeve that trails from the top of his right shoulder down to his hands with designs that hold meaning to him. His dark hair curls around his ears that have several piercings on each one. There's a barbell that runs through his right eyebrow and lip piercing on his lip.

God, you are one lucky woman.

"It's hot in here," He comments, walking towards you in all his glory. He sits on the edge of the counter with his body facing towards you, feet almost touching the bathroom floor due to his tall stature.

"Yeah..." You hum, "I took a hot shower today," You begin putting all of your stuff back into the cabinet. "I needed to feel relaxed."

Jeongguk hums, running his tattooed hand through your damp hair. "Everything okay at work today?" He asks, knowing how emotionally exhausting it is as work.

You were a nurse in the ICU at Seoul National University Hospital. Being an ICU nurse, things can be quite tedious when it comes to your patients. You've encountered difficult and mentally challenging situations that've left you in an emotional turmoil at times.

Luckily, you've had Jeongguk there to support you on those rough days, cuddling you with love and affection when you needed it the most.

You let out a sigh, a small pout on your lips. Immediately, he pulls you to stand between his dangling legs, cupping your face and running his thumb across your cheekbone. His brown doe eyes try to meet yours as you avoid his gaze, looking down. Your hand reaches up to cover the one he's resting on your cheek.

"Baby, look at me," He says in a stern yet gentle tone. You look up at the sound of his voice, knowing you can't keep away from him. "What happen?"

Jeongguk always knows when something is wrong. You guys have been dating for almost four years now, having met during your freshmen year of university through mutual friends. He knows you like the back of his hand, picking up on your moods.

Though you try your best to hide it by putting a smile on your face, Jeongguk can see right through you.

He pulls you closer to him by wrapping his left arm around you waist while his other is still cupping your face. Your left arm wraps around his neck to play with the hair at the nape of his neck while the other hand is resting against his bare chest, fiddling with the silver chain hanging around his neck. It was a chain you gifted him on his 23rd birthday.

"It was just a really hard day today," You almost whisper, leaning forward so your forehead rests against his collarbone. You breathe in his comforting and familiar peppermint scent that's laced with a hint of his cologne. You feel his lips press a kiss to the side of your damp hair, his hand moving from your face to tangle at the back of your head.

"Yeah?" He asks, "You wanna talk about it?" His voice is tender as he pries you to open up. His hand lightly scratching your scalp in a calming manner that causes you to shut your eyes as you feel more relaxed. Both of your arms are now encircled around his neck, hugging him with your face hiding in his neck.

You think back to what happen at the hospital today with the young patient you had and lost in a matter of minutes. One minute she was smiling and the next thing you know, her vitals were dropping, breathe shortening. When you couldn't feel her radial pulse and the monitoring started beeping, you immediately went to action and called a code for rapid response before you began performing CPR.

"I tried my best to save a patient today," You began, voice already wavering as you felt your eyes stinging with tears, "I've had her for my morning shifts these past 2 weeks." Another kiss is pressed against your ear and Jeongguk hums to let you know he's listening. "I-I don't know what happen. She was doing fine you know. She was supposed to be discharged in about a day or two because she was recovering from this accident she had. But I don't what happen, suddenly she was having a hard time breathing and next thing you know I'm trying to perform CPR and resuscitate her," You didn't notice you started crying until you felt Jeongguk pull back so he can wipe the tears streaming down your face. "The rapid response team came b-but she didn't make it." You cry out, nose sniffling and lips quivering.

Jeongguk feels chest ache, knowing how much the death of patient can effect you. Especially if you bond really well with them. You were always the type of person to make everyone and anyone feel comfortable around you with your kinda and caring aura. It's one of things Jeongguk absolutely loves about you.

"She was only 22, Jeongguk," You tell him," S-She was so young and had a whole life ahead of her." You sob, leaning into his touch when he holds your cheek again.

"Hey hey," Jeongguk says gently, running his thumb beneath your eyes to wipe away the tears. "It's okay. I can't imagine how hard it must've been for you." You nod, softly hiccuping. "She's in a better place now hm?" You nod again, lips pursed as if you were holding a new set of tears. "She was lucky to have you as her nurse. I know you must've taken such good care of her," Jeongguk's voice is tender and warm when he speaks.

He looks at you fondly with a small smile playing on his pink petaled lips. Your heart swells with so much love for him, grateful for always knowing what to say and listening to you when you need him. Your arms that are still encircled around his neck tug him forward so you can press your lips against his.

You exhale through your nose, shutting your eyes in delight when you feel his hand go from your cheek through your hair before grazing down your back. Your body is still wrapped in the white towel from earlier, having had no chance to change yet.

There was nothing sexual about the kiss. It was just full of love, warmth and comfort. Jeongguk's right hand rests against your lower back while the left is cupping your cheek as he continues to kiss you.

You pull back with the sound of a POP when your guys' lips separate, taking a moment to breathe before Jeongguk pulls your forward again with his hand on the back of your head entangled in your hair. He presses three more kisses to your lips before moving to your cheeks and up to your forehead before moving down to the tip of your nose. You cutely scrunch up your nose into a smile when he kisses your nose.

"I love you," You tell him, throat feeling tight and eyes stinging again for a whole different reason. You can see the the adoration and love in his eyes when he gazes at you in such a tender manner.

"I," He kisses your mouth, "love," kisses beneath your jaw, "you," presses two kisses down your neck, "too." His lips continue to trail kisses down the front of your neck to the collarbone where he starts to lightly nibble on the skin to leave a mark. His strong arms encircle you waist again and he begins swaying you a little.

"You are so strong, my love." Jeongguk says against your collarbone, "Just know that I'm always going to be here. Don't ever be afraid to tell me what's going on." You nod, your hands grabbing each side of his face to pull him back and look at him with a closed lip smile on your face. "Okay?" He asks and you nod again, pecking the mole beneath his bottom lip.

He tugs you forward again, this time with his lips pressing harder against yours. The kiss immediately becomes heated, his mouth opening to slip his tongue into yours while his hand trails down your back to your ass where he gives a quick squeeze.

You softly moan into his mouth at the action, pulling his arms behind you more in encouragement to keep going and he does. Both hands squeeze each of your ass cheek, pulling you forward so you can feel the bulge in his sweatpants press against your front.

Jeongguk pulls back a bit, a string of saliva hanging between your lips when he does. His eyes trail from your face over your neck to the collarbone where he left a pink mark before reaching the top of your breasts that having become visible due to the loosening of the towel around you.

You open your eyes to meet his gaze, noticing how his eyes have darkened with lust, teeth digging into bottom lip before tugging the metal piercing into his mouth. You hold eye contact with him as one of your hands reach up to unravel the towel around your body, letting it drop to the floor.

Jeongguk breaks eye contact, giving a once over your body before his lips into a smirk. Just when you're about to move forward and kiss him again, Jeongguk stops you with a hand on your waist causing you to look at him in confusion.

He steps down from the counter before grabbing you beneath your thighs and pulling you up towards him so your legs wrap around his waist. Letting out a surprised squeal, you circle your arms around his neck again and lean forward so you can trail kisses from his neck to his jaw up to his lips.

Your lips don't break contact once they meet, moving against each other the whole way he carries you out of the bathroom in your connected bedroom. Your one hand is entangled into his hair while the other arm is still wrapped around his neck. You bite down on his lower lip, tugging it into your own mouth and he groans.

Once you've reached your bed, he drops you onto the mattress softly. You slightly move back, elbows digging into the mattress and your knees spread apart so he can see everything.

He doesn't look away from you as he pulls down his sweatpants swiftly before kicking them off his ankles. He kneels onto the bed as you slide up the bed a bit, his hand one hand pulling your knee apart so he can spread you more.

He has a devious grin playing on his lips as he looks at you and says, "Now," He lowers his body between your legs, "let me make you feel a whole lot better."

You feel the excitement swirling in your stomach, body tingling and you fist the bedsheets beneath you. You lay at flat against the bed, throwing your head back with your eyes shut in pleasure as you let Jeongguk take control.

He pleasures you with his mouth and tongue, bringing you to your first orgasm. He then makes love to you all night long until you've had three orgasms. All thoughts about what happened leaving your mind.

You end up falling asleep around 4 am, his arm wrapped around your stomach while your back is pressed against his naked front.

You knew with Jeongguk by your side, you'll always be okay.

~

hello it's been a while. this was unedited so please ignore any mistakes. i will fix them later lol

[xyxka]

Baby boy souya♡

fucking the shit out of souta while nahoya is in the next room

(Afab and g/n reader)

List of kinks: pegging, Dacryphilia, giving him a rim job if that counts,

You had come over to souyas house, to pay him and his brother a visit and eat dinner with them, but a little more than that happened.

“hAah- y/n!!” “Shhh baby, Nahoya might hear us if you moan so loudly”

How did you guys get here?

Well, souya bent over while picking something up, looking back to make sure you were looking. He’s so innocent but so…sultry sometimes. So..you decided to give the blue haired boy what he wanted. Your attention. “Damn, have you been doing squats angry?” He expected something like that from you, but, he still blushed bright red. “What’s wrong baby? Did that make you uncomfortable? Sorry-“ “No no! It’s fine it’s fine!! It just t-turned me o-on…”silence filled the room for a few seconds until you gulped and whispered “I see…how perverse of you. Pervert.~” “The fuck’re you guys doin?” Nahoya had walked out of his room to get some water. After eating he was thirsty. Although you and souya were thirsty in different ways.. “…never mind” he grabs water quickly and heads back to his room. You let out a cackle no matter how hard you were trying to maintain your gravitas. You look at souya to tell him something like ‘let us continue’ or ‘now back to what we were doing’ but you notice how extremely red souya is. You proceed to breathe “what’s wrong baby?”. He immediately forgets all the embarrassment he felt and he is so turned on it’s like he’s under a spell. “Let’s go to your room baby, we don’t want nahoya walking in on us like this again right?” “Y-yes master..

As soon as you guys are in his room you notice there was already a towel on the bed so you carry him and lay him on the bed, baby boy souya again embarrassed that he’s being carried like this and that he was already prepared for you prior.

“Turn around, souya,I’m eating you out today.” Souta blinks twice, probably finally out of his trance. “O-o-oh…” souta couldn’t lie. The sound of that made his hole twitch. “What’s wrong baby? You don’t want that?” You ask, concerned that he might be uncomfortable with that. “No. Please do.” He shifts around and positions himself to have his ass up and his face down. As soon as he does this you just want to gobble him up. “I already, uhm, c-cleaned myself back there..” His back arches when he feels your cold hand go under his shirt from his lower back to his neck. You slip his pants off. Fuck he looked so tasty like this. Ass up, knees shaking barely holding him up, the way his hole twitches around nothing, the way he’s still trying to look at you through his blue fluffy hair, they way his breath hitches whenever you touch a sensitive spot. It’s all driving you insane. You move your head towards your ‘second desert’ and start licking. You felt him twitch around your tongue whenever you put it in. He whimpered & moaned so cutely and would grind against the towel to get any friction he could get.. “please…more.”. You pick up your pace and lick him more. The adorable “hng right there” he had breathed out almost sent you over the moon, but, it was time to make him cum in a different way. You got up from the bed, walk to his closet, grab a box, and take the lube from the box. “Pleaseee just put it in!! We don’t need it! Please quickly master” he moaned out for you but you held yourself back. “Shh be patient, love.”. After buckling the strap in, you begin to pour lube on your strap and his hole. The familiar feeling of the cold lube made him shiver, anticipating for your silicone dick to be inside him. Your reply to his action was “Just a little more preparation my love.” And he whined like a cute puppy.

Now, back to where we were.

“How many times do I have to say you have to be quieter, baby?”you say as you slow down your thrusts. Not to stop him from moaning. No no no, you want more of that. You slow down to make him beg for you to go “faster!!” and “harder!!”. And that’s exactly what your beloved, souta, did. “Hmmaahgh go fasterr” he’d say as grinds so cutely against your strap. Who are you to not have mercy on your cute baby boy? You pull out for a second,making souta whine in both confusion and frustration, and place the tip of the silicone cock on his hole. Then you slowly pushed the tip in to quickly thrust roughly into his hole. He let out a half gasp half moan, making you giggle. You continue to thrust in and out, seeing it disappearing into him over and over again while it rubs against your clit felt amazing. You position yourself closer to him. Your warm chest on his upper back and your fingers fucking his mouth now. You’re ramming into him now, literally fucking him dumb like the little cute slut he is for your strap. Repeatedly hitting his prostate just feels sooo good. “You can cum whenever you want,baby”. He came as soon as you said that. “Ohmygodohmy” and he’d gasp a few more times. God it was adorable, you’d leave kisses on his neck the whole time. As soon as he’s done you go for a bit longer so you come, making him twitch and moan extremely loudly until you cum.

As you guys are laying next to each other about to cuddle, you guys suddenly hear “ya finally fuckin done?” From smiley. Being too exhausted to laugh you wheeze a little and souya hides his face in your neck.

Baby boy souya is soooo cute.

[galaxyedging]

I found an old WIP and felt so guilty that I've neglected my boy.

Owned

Din x female reader

Very smutty one shot.🔞

Warnings: Pegging. Begging. Swearing.

"Can I touch you?" Normally that voice would get him everything. So deep you felt it in your bones when he spoke. With a smoothness that wrapped around you like velvet.

"No." Your hands pushed down on his broad shoulders, partly for emphasis, partly for leverage. Pushing yourself up off his naked body, you readjusted the angle of the toy nestled inside you. Finding just the right spot you bounced harder. The thick head of it slamming deeper into you, while the base rubbed against Din's already hard length. He needed this, needed to lose control. He wore his hair longer at the moment, too busy to bother with it. It skimmed the juncture of his neck and shoulders as his head was thrown back in pleasure. The sight of him, bare and wild, underneath you pushed you over the edge. His chest flexed with effort as he resisted touching you, writhing in his lap. Once you pussy had stop spasming long enough for you to lift free of the hard silicon length, your come dripped down it.

"Lift up, baby boy." You tapped his hip, pulling the harness free. "My turn." Fixing the harness in place, you stood before him, still sat it the chair. "Kneel."

He slipped down to his knees. His cock standing proud between his firm thighs. It was so achingly tempting to take him in your mouth. Taste the salty musk of him. Feel the smooth weight of him. Suck him until his knees buckled and he spilled down you throat. It was his turn first though. Fisting his hair in you hand you brought his head closer to phallus dripping with your juices. He eagerly parted his full lips, tongue darting out to lick it clean. "Deeper." you urged. He took it so deep him almost choked, his eyes rolled back as he gagged. "Good boy." You cooed yanking his hair back until he dropped it from his mouth.

"Do you want it?" you bent to whisper in his ear before capturing his lips. Tasting yourself on his tongue.

He didn't trust his voice. He just nodded.

"You know what to do, darling boy." He positioned his large frame on the bed. The candle light flicked along his body, all golden and firm. With a little bit of softness that he showed only to you. One hand came up to grip the back of his neck, the other reached between his legs, cupping his balls. "So heavy. Have you missed me, my love?"

"Yes." He groaned as you tugged lightly and massaged them in your hand. "So much."

Leaving him for a moment you prepared your cock, before squeezing a generous amount of lube into your hands. "Tell me how you need it?" your fingers danced over his tight hole, preparing him. "Rough. Own me." He choked out as you pumped his length.

"I already do." You smiled slipping inside him. His muscles protested at first. "Relax. Just take it for me."

His head dropped low as you pushed deeper. "Right there." He shuddered round you as you hit the right spot.

"Yeah, right there?" you thrust into him a few more times, slowly letting him feel every inch.

Picking up speed you had him dropping his head to the mattress and gripped the sheets.

"How does that feel?" Waiting until he opened his mouth to respond you gripped his hips, thrusting deeper.

Whatever was on his tongue evolved into a wail of your name. "More."

"Beg." You tugged his hair as your hips pushed flushed his ass hitting even deeper within him.

"More. Please. Please."

Reaching around you found his cock, hard and leaking. Timing your strokes with your thrusts, you had him getting closer to coming by the second. "Fuck, look at you. The big, bad Mandalorian coming apart on my cock. You love being fucked like this. Taking whatever I throw at you like a wanton whore."

"Fuck, yes!" His cock pulses in your hand as he shot his load. He panted and trembled underneath you as you gently pulled out of him. Slipping the harness off your hips you lay next to him. "You can touch me now." He didn't need to be told twice. He did so until your body ached from his attention. Leaving you a reminder of who owned who.

[subspencer]

I don’t really know how to do this lol, but could you write a blurb about pegging mommy kink Spencer, I have a feeling he’d love that, and be very, very vocal!

If you can’t that’s okay, thank you!

wc: 900         cw: pegging, mommy kink, ‘good boy’

-

Spencer’s had a very hard day. 

He came home from work and immediately buried himself in his couch to mope. First, his favorite tie got ruined by a coffee stain. Second, he burned his chest on hot coffee. Then a slew of things went down at work, including being reprimanded by Strauss for a stunt he pulled on the last case. He missed his train home by ten seconds and had to wait twenty minutes for the next one. Then he left his favorite book on the train. 

He was ready to break down and cry from all of these smaller events that just kept piling on top of each other. And when you found him like that, nose buried between the cushions as he pouted to himself, you knew he needed some taking care of.

“Aww,” you cooed sweetly, kneeling in front of the couch to comb your fingers through his messy hair. “Did my baby have a hard day today?”

He nodded with a Hmphf. 

“Do you want mommy to make it better?”

That got him to peek at you with one eye. He made a tiny little whine and nudged his head deeper into your palm; a silent yes from him. 

You laughed and took his hand in yours as you pulled his heavy body off of the couch. “Such a whiny boy,” you joked, slinging your arm around his waist while he pouted all the way to the bedroom.

You took off your shirt and laid on the bed, letting him lay on top of your bare chest. He immediately put his mouth over your breasts, eyes closed and breathing deeply out of his nose as he focused all his attention on them. 

“Gonna tell me what’s wrong?” you asked, twirling little bits of his hair. He shook his head no, pulling your nipple between his teeth and tugging gently as he did. 

He had to be in a bad mood if he didn’t feel like talking. You wanted to fix that. 

You pulled him off by his hair, earning a protesting whine. “Take off your clothes and wait for me here.” He rolled off you to follow instructions while you dug in your dresser for what you needed, grabbing a toy and your harness. 

When you turned around, he was already naked on the bed, knees bent to his chest. You raised the toy to his lips, tapping on them. He opened his mouth and slid down over the plastic cock without question, gladly taking all of it as you pushed it in and out of his mouth. 

“Does my baby wanna get fucked tonight?” you smiled, watching his spit coated his lips as you removed the toy. 

“Please, mommy, I need to.”

You had him turn face-down on the bed. He got on his elbows and knees to bring his hips up to you. “No, baby, you get to take it easy,” you kissed his shoulder and grabbed two pillows from the headboard, propping them under his hips so he could relax his knees.

He sighed softly into the sheets as you stretched him out with lubed fingers. Once he was ready, you slowly pressed in with the slicked toy, his sighs turning into tiny winces as he adjusted.

“You feelin’ okay?” you cooed, stroking the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck.

He nodded. “Yes, mommy.”

His breathing settled once he got fully adjusted and let you push in deeper. His hips pressed into the pillow under him as you began to slide out all the way and push back in. The winces turned to tiny whines and moans, his head buried into the crook of his elbow as you teased just up to his spot.

He impatiently pressed his hips back to meet you, moaning out as the plastic cock brushed his spot.

“Ah, baby you know you’re not supposed to do that.”

With a little cry, he moved back down to the pillows. “Mommy, please.”

You sighed, digging your fingertips into the soft skin of his ass. “Okay. Fuck the pillow while I do this.”

You pushed all the way in, a loud moan fell from Spencer’s lips. His hips moved forward each time yours did, rubbing his dick against the soft pillows in tandem.

“F-fuck,” he choked out between thrusts as you got faster, “Mommy that feels so good.”

You hummed at his appreciation, fucking deeper into him. He gasped, bunching up the bedsheets under his fingers as he bucked faster against the pillows.

“Mommy I need to cum.” He muttered please over and over as he got closer, rolling his head against the mattress as you fucked him hard.

Your hands pressed into his hips for leverage as you held deep against his spot, pulsing tiny thrusts against him as he rode the pillows. His come painted all over them as he finished in long spurts, grabbing at the sheets and whimpering.

He turned over on his back, showing you his tummy covered in his come. You smiled, running a finger through his mess and bringing it up to his lips. “Good boy,” you hummed as he took it into his mouth, giving you a lazy smile at the name. “Feel a little better?”

“Yes mommy.”

[songbirdstyles]

white wedding.

summary: your estranged aunt leaves you her estate in her will with the stipulation that you have to be married to receive your inheritance. luckily, harry is more than willing to help.

pairing: best friend!harry styles x reader

warnings: fluff, smut, angst if you squint.

song inspo.: white wedding - billy idol

word count: 13.4k

You weren’t too close to your Aunt Alice for the entirety of your life - there’s a picture, you think, hung in your parents’ house of her and some of your other family members, crowding around your bassinet when you were just a baby, her face turned up into a scowl amid everyone else’s gleaming grins, and it was a lovely foreshadow into your relationship with her. She sent you $10 on your birthdays and Christmas (an amount that your father had always scoffed at when he thought you weren’t listening - ‘she’s a goddamn millionaire,’ he’d hiss to your mother, ‘and the most she can spare her only niece is $10?’)  and you could remember, when you were 9, seeing her at a family reunion where she sat at a table pressed into a back corner and nursed glasses of wine during the entire event.

It goes without saying, you suppose, that she wasn’t the kindest lady. Your mother had told you how Aunt Alice cut off your father for some reason nobody could quite discern and, so, she never held a much larger place in your life than a mere branch on your second grade family tree project -

But, still. It’s rather difficult to regard the dead in such a negative manner so you try and focus on the good parts of your late aunt. Twice, she wrote ‘love u’ in your Christmas card. And, at said family reunion, when you walked over to her table to say goodbye before you left, she delivered a sloppy, strangely wet kiss to the side of your face that smelled distinctly of chardonnay (a scent you hadn’t quite been able to place until years later.) And - 

“Are you alright?”

Harry’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, gazing out the rain-streaked car window at the night sky with an odd air of sadness surrounding you. You had been trying to hide the slight dash of sadness you feel at the memory of your aunt by disguising it with a mask of sleepiness that has you leaning your forehead against the cold window, eyes squeezed shut. But Harry can read you like a goddamn book - like the back of his hand. It’s what best friends are for, you suppose.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, tilting your head away from the window to glance at him in the driver’s seat. And, the truth is, you are fine. It’s not as though you’re entirely too saddened with the news of Aunt Alice’s passing. She’d always had health issues, according to your parents, and you’re not sure what, exactly, has sealed her fate - you’re simply more confused by it all. “Well - when we were leaving the movies, I got a call from my dad. My aunt died.”

You can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath and there’s a brief hesitation where you know he’s trying to gauge how you feel about it. “Oh,” he settles on, turning to look at you in the eye when the car rolls to a stop at a red light. “M’sorry, love.”

You shrug, glancing down to squint at your fingernails in the darkness of Harry’s car. You’d begun to pick at the baby blue nail polish he’d delicately applied the night before (they matched his, naturally) and it really is a nervous habit you should work on, but you can’t be bothered right now. “We weren’t close,” you admit, leaning back against the headrest. “It’s just weird, is all.”

“Are y’sad about it?”

“Not quite,” and it’s the truth. “She was wealthy, though. I think she wrote novels or plays or something - I’m not sure. And I was, apparently, her closest living relative that she didn’t despise.”

He clicks his tongue softly, making a left when the light finally switches to green, and his eyes shift back towards the road. “Left y’somethin’ in her will, did she?”

“Her countryside estate,” you confess, voice soft - it’s not the climax of your story but it certainly sounds like it should be, and you can see the confused crease in Harry’s eyebrows when you look up at him. “I looked the address up online, Har - it’s gorgeous, 6 beds and 7 bathrooms. I guess we had similar tastes in that regard.”

“Y’don’t sound too thrilled, for someone who jus’ got their dream house handed to ‘em on a platter.”

“There’s a stipulation in the will.”

“Ah.”

You smile tightly. “I’ll only inherit the house if I’m married.”

It’s something you’ll never understand. Aunt Alice never married and lived in that grand old house (your dream house) all by herself, and if you’d known about your role in her will perhaps you’d have argued it with her in person - the hypocrisy of it all, how goddamn unfair it was. And it’ll kill you - truly kill you - to see that house go to whoever her next closest living relative is who she doesn’t hate. Probably some third cousin twice removed, considering how great she was at cutting people off.

And Harry sits for a moment in silence, considering it. “Seems very - very - can’t think of the word.”

“Sexist? Unfair? Dumb?”

“All true,” he agrees, giving you a sympathetic smile, and it makes you feel the tiniest bit better, even if it’s just for a moment. “Barbaric, maybe.”

“I hate her,” you declare, crossing your arms over your hoodie-clad chest, and you most certainly don’t, but you’re angry enough to mean it in the moment. When your father had told you, you hadn’t thought about it too much - besides being confused by the entire thing, being left a house by a relative you hardly knew - but saying it out loud makes you angrier, squeezing your eyes shut. “Would you know she never married? How does that make sense?” “It doesn’t,” Harry repeats, and you glance out the window, lifting your palm to wipe at the cloudy stain your forehead had made against the glass - you’re just less a minute away from your apartment building, and you rip your phone from Harry’s charger and shove it into the pocket of your hoodie. “She left you time, right? T’get married? Tha’ seems only fair.”

You snort, ignoring the way his lips turn up into a smile at the noise. “She gave me a year. I mean, I’m 23 - I wasn’t intending on settling down for another couple of years.”

If you were less distracted, perhaps you’d see his responding silence for what it is - time to think, gears grinding in his head, as he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building and leans over the center console to wrap you in a hug. Harry’s a talkative person and he’s only really quiet when he’s got something on his mind, but you’ve got something on yours too (probably more than he does) so you ignore it. And his soft murmur into your hair of ‘I’ll pick you up tomorrow for breakfast’ sounds every bit as distracted as you feel so you simply pay it no mind.

It’s easier that way, for now.

 --

 “I’ve been thinkin’ about your situation.”

You raise your eyebrows at Harry, bent over his plate of French toast as though he hadn’t spoken at all. His sunglasses are perched at the end of his nose so you can see his eyes - which, in your opinion, defeats the purpose of even wearing the stupid things in public. But, whenever you two go out together, he insists on wearing them, along with a grey beanie protecting his infamous head of curls from any wandering eyes, and the bizarre attempt at a disguise always makes you feel like you’re having breakfast with a burglar. 

“Not much to think about,” you shrug, popping a forkful of omelet into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I was just mad about it last night, you know. Heat of the moment, sort of thing.”

“I’d be mad, too,” Harry tells you, and it’s getting more difficult to ignore the way his words send heat creeping up your neck, and you glance down at your plate of eggs with a small smile gracing your face. “Not jus’ heat of the moment, either. Really mad. S’bullshit.”

A second of silence passes, and you let his reassurance settle over you - simply having him agree with you on the stupidity of the entire situation makes you feel a thousand times better. Even if you don’t get the house (and you’ve already progressed into the last stage of grief over almost certainly losing it - acceptance) at least you’ll always have Harry, and maybe that’s enough.

But the house would be nice, too.

“What were you thinking about?” You question, lifting your eyes back up to meet his through his tinted glasses, and if there wasn’t the barrier between your gazes you’d be able to note the nearly shameful glint in his eyes as he digs into his stack of sugary sweet toast, doused with maple syrup and towered high with fruit. “About the situation, I mean.”

Harry begins to speak once more just as you reach over with your fork to nab a piece of banana, and he swats at your wrist as you pop the slice of fruit into your mouth. “Don’ steal my banana, babe,” he tells you, eyes narrowing in mock anger, and you roll your eyes at the name. “Anyway. S’not totally crazy, that you could get married in less than a year.”

Yes, it is, you want to reply back, but you can tell he’s ramping up to something important, so you rest your fork on your plate and furrow your eyebrows at him pointedly. Truthfully, even if the love of your life happened to be sitting in front of you, you’re not sure you could go through with marrying them, anyway. It’s such a heavy commitment and, God, you thought you’d have more time. Time to explore and experiment and not settle down (in your dream house) just for the sake of it.

“What if we got married?”

And that - is not what you were expecting him to say.

You’re not sure if he’s kidding or not so you give it a minute before responding in any capacity. Just stare at him, and he makes a point of hooking his pinkie in the center of his sunglasses and tugging them down his nose just a bit so you can see the absolute lack of amusement in his eyes. He’s all business, goddammit, as if he hadn’t just basically proposed to you in the middle of eating your fucking omelet.

But you can’t be sure he’s serious, and you also can’t be sure that the way your stomach flipped wasn’t because of a particularly egregious sip of chocolate milk and not the prospect of marrying your best friend. So you lean back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you kidding?”

Harry just shakes his head, grey beanie sliding up just a bit for one chocolate coloured lock of hair to escape the confines of the dumb hat. “M’being dead serious, babe. I’ll get down on one knee an’ prove it, too.”

“Don’t do that,” you beg him, reaching out to grab at his wrist when he makes to push himself out of his chair, and his wide grin only sends your stomach into another set of somersaults. “Jesus, Har.”

“Horrible idea?”

You don’t respond right away, grabbing your glass of chocolate milk and wrapping your lips around the straw. It’s a few seconds to process the request in all its glory - marrying your best friend, even if it’s just for show, is a lot. Sure, all you’d really have to do is head down to a courthouse (you could do it today, even - if you wanted to, and you’re not sure you do.) It’d be easier than searching hopelessly for the love of your life and arrange a wedding in less than a year, and you’d be able to walk the halls of your aunt’s gorgeous estate, decorate it how you please, and - ideally - your relationship with Harry wouldn’t quiver in the slightest.

Well, maybe that’s why you’re hesitant to begin with. Because it would quiver - or because it wouldn’t - or because it’s plain weird to marry your best friend. Even if it’s for a good cause (your dream home) and even if he suggested it in the first place, because he cares about you and wants you to be happy.

That’s sweet.

Maybe it would be a glorious fuck you to Aunt Alice in death. It isn’t as though anyone would know about the inauthenticity of the union but you would, and that’s all the revenge you need for her adding such a silly stipulation to her will, anyway. A marriage born not out of love, but out of need - sure, it’s not exactly how you wanted your life to go, but it’s better than watching the estate go to someone you’d never met before. You could get married and get divorced in the time frame she’d given you to find love in the first place and it would hardly be a blip in your life plans, and certainly not in Harry’s. It isn’t as though he’d suggest it if the marriage would ruin anything for him. 

Sure, you’d prance around family parties with him on your arm to sell your faux romance to your family. Only one or two, though, his arm around your waist, and it wasn’t as if your parents hadn’t already begun to question whether your close friendship with Harry ventured into something further. And, when it’s all said and done, when the house is officially in your name and you can begin shopping for furniture to make it your own, it’ll be easy to sell the divorce - he’s touring, you’d tearfully proclaim, and the stress was just too much on our relationship. And then you’d both be happy, right? For the most part, anyway. Still best friends with no hassle at all, and you get your house and he gets the popstar life without the settling down part.

When you’ve swallowed your gulp of chocolate milk, it’s nearly worrying how much you’ve thought about the proposal.

“It’s not a horrible idea,” you begin, eyes diverting downward to where Harry’s fingers are fiddling with a straw wrapper. “I mean, it could be pretty easy.”

“Very easy.”

“We just elope -”

“Could do it today, even -”

“I haven’t agreed yet, Mr. Styles - but we would elope, and then I’d get the house, and maybe I’d bring you to a family reunion, just to sell it, and then we’re divorced.”

He raises his eyebrows, glasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose until their purpose has been completely obliterated, and his eyes are on display for the goddamn world to see. “Unless we fall in love an’ live happily ever after - no divorce necessary, m’love.”

Bastard. Your stomach flips again but you just roll your eyes, picking up your fork and lifting a shaky bite of eggs up to your mouth. “Shut up.”

You’re almost certain you’ve made up your mind but you still make a show of thinking about it, slowly chewing on your omelet and focusing your gaze on a paper napkin resting on the ground beside Harry’s chair. It’s almost too easy, the entire process, and maybe that should make you nervous, just a little bit, that the idea of marrying him feels so relaxing. But - well - if you had to choose anyone in the world to marry in order to fulfill a stipulation in your aunt’s will, it would have to be Harry.

He’s looking at you eagerly when you look back up at him, and you’re not sure why he’s so excited about it - not like there’s anything in it for him - but it’s something you’ll think about later.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” you tell him, watching the way his grin spreads across his face like wildfire, and you can’t help yourself from smiling, too, “but I am.”

In seconds, Harry’s reaching across the table, grabbing your hand in his larger one, and just the way your heart jumps at the feeling of your palms pressed together should certainly have you rethinking your enthusiastic yes. But then he’s picking up the straw wrapper he’d been fiddling with, and it’s twisted into a makeshift wedding ring, and he’s sliding it onto your ring finger with a wide smile like a fucking puppy -

God. You’re in too deep already, and you’ve only just agreed.

 --

 For the record, you’d rethought your decision many, many times since agreeing.

You’d drafted out the text for Harry for when you inevitably will change your mind - a block of words confessing to him that you’d reacted too quickly and you think it would be best if you simply forfeit your inheritance, but you can never quite gather the guts to do it. And every time you copy and paste the note from your notes to your text thread with your best friend, something always stops you -

The photos of the house from the real estate website you’d seen it on.

Harry’s wide grin as you accepted his offer.

FIngers delicately sliding on an engagement ring made of a paper straw wrapper, and the next day when he’d shown up at your door with an actual, real engagement ring.

Naturally, you hadn’t sent it. You’d deleted the note entirely, too, embarrassed with even looking at your words of defeat sprawled on your phone screen. Sometimes, though, you wish you had fucking sent it. Nearly two weeks after accepting the proposal that still hasn’t progressed from feeling like an absolute fever dream, you’re sitting with Harry at Aunt Alice’s funeral, his arm hooked around the back of your chair and the other clutching a glass of wine that he’s hardly taken two sips of.

You’re on your second glass already, and it’s barely been an hour. You’d signed the guestbook and hooked your arm with Harry’s and introduced him as your fiance to exactly one of your great-aunts, and you’d been so nervous that Aunt Shirley could see right through your faux-engagement that you’d practically downed your glass the second her back turned. 

“This is so weird,” you confess to Harry, shifting closer to him so no one else around you can hear. Not that there is, per se, anyone else around you - not many other people are sitting down, but you and Harry were one of the first people to arrive, so you’ve given yourselves a pass to sit down for a while. “Isn’t it weird, Har?”

“S’only weird if you make it weird,” he murmurs back, and you would roll your eyes at how maddeningly calm he is if you weren’t desperate to keep up your pretense as loving fiance to the funeral goers whose wandering eyes may turn to you two. “And, babe, you’re makin’ it weird.”

Your lips spread into a smile and you lift your glass of wine to your lips, taking a small sip before bringing it back down to your lap. No matter how many times you scream at yourself, internally, that nobody knows you’re not engaged and to calm the fuck down, you can’t stop your leg from bouncing up and down, showcasing your nerves in the most outward way you possibly could. “Wonder when my parents are getting here - should’ve texted them and told them separately. Did you tell your mum?”

“Told her the truth,” Harry tells you, tilting his head into yours in a way that feels so natural you swear you could stay this way forever. “You’re not tellin’ your parents the truth?”

“Bless my mum,” you sigh, “but she can’t keep a secret to save her life.”

Harry exhales a soft laugh, eyes darting around the room full of people before landing back on yours, and your gazes lock for just the briefest of seconds before he’s glancing down at your lap. “Y’don’t have t’do this if you’re uncomfortable, y’know. We can jus’ say - the pressure of m’job was too much.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you tell him, which is true. You’re nervous, for sure, but he could never make you uncomfortable. “And, ironically enough, that’s my excuse for when we divorce.”

Your voice drops to a near breath on the last word and Harry’s head drops back with a bark of laughter that’s entirely too loud for the setting you’re at but you can’t bring yourself to reprimand him. “Always talkin’ ‘bout our divorce,” Harry breathes, tilting his head closer to yours so his mouth is close enough to your ear that you can feel his breath, hot against your skin. “What if we fall in love, babe? No divorce then. Don’ y’want us t’live happily ever after?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you roll your eyes, even if you’re almost positive you will (or already have) and shake your head at Harry’s resulting chuckle. “Been best friends for nearly five years, haven’t we? If we were going to fall in love, I reckon it would’ve happened already, Har.” 

“You’re right,” he agrees, voice oddly soft and sounding just sentimental enough for you to narrow your eyes suspiciously at him - but before you can question him further, his eyes dart down to where your leg is still frantically bouncing up and down. “Bloody hell, love - bouncin’ your leg so much. Y’look like a nervous wreck.”

“Thanks,” you begin, and whatever else you’d been meaning to say dies in your throat as Harry’s arm shifts from around the back of your chair and his hand comes down firm on your leg. His fingertips brush your knee and his palm lays soft against your thigh, just high enough to gently brush the end of your black dress and you wish you could control the way your stomach flips again and again like a fucking gymnast.

It’s to keep up appearances, you tell yourself. So people don’t think I’m so nervous. But it feels so nice, so natural in a way you hadn’t expected, feeling his hand resting on your thigh like it belongs there, fingertips drumming against your knee which most certainly isn’t bouncing anymore.

Your eyes flit up to his, narrowing them ever so slightly as if to sniff out his intentions, and out of the corner of your eye you can see two familiar figures walking in the high arched doors of Aunt Alice’s service. Your parents break off from each other nearly the second they enter, your father skirting off to greet some of his cousins and your mother’s eyes scan the room filled with relatives before landing on you and Harry.

“Mum’s here,” you tell Harry, pushing yourself to stand, and the feeling of his hand dropping off your thigh is a sensation you absolutely despise. He stands soon after you, adjusting the cuffs of his black button down shirt, and for the first time since the funeral began, you can see the beginnings of nervousness creeping upon him. A light pink flush works its way up his neck to his cheeks and he brings his hand up to run through his hair, inhaling a shaky breath. “You look nervous, Har. You’ve met my mum before.”

“S’different. Now we’re engaged.”

“Not too different.” You hook your arm with Harry’s, patting his hand with yours, and he gives you one grateful fleeting grin before you begin walking over to your mother. She’s bent over the guestbook, scribbling her name with the feather pen resting beside the log. You stop walking when you’re just a couple paces behind her, waiting for her to turn around and see you two - and your voice drops to a hushed tone as you reassure Harry. “I think she already sort of thought we were dating anyway - so she won’t care too much.”

“Wait - she did?”

“Hey, mum!”

 --

 You’re getting married in a week.

And, sure, you’d known that the entire process would move quicker than you could imagine but it still feels surreal and you still reckon you haven’t thought it through enough. It’s worsened (or, in some way, bettered) by the absolute adoration your family had immediately adopted towards Harry after meeting him just a few days ago, your aunts pulling you aside at the funeral and the repast that occurred after and whispering in your ear about what a handsome man he is! 

Well, they’ll certainly be disappointed when, in a month or two, you pop in to the next family gathering and announce that you two had gotten divorced as quickly as you’d been wed. Harry will be your ex husband and, at that point, surely people would be suspicious at the speed of which everything had happened but - hey - you’ll have your house and your best friend and that’s all you really need, isn’t it.

Yeah.

Slowly but surely, you’re coming to peace with it, and Harry’s certainly making it easier by being so zen about it all. His nerves at the funeral had been just about eradicated because your mum loves him, which you knew, and your father had seemed positively overjoyed at the news of your engagement, but they’d both seemed rather disappointed at your decision to elope instead of spending the time planning a big white wedding. And you’d expected that, but you figure that, by the time your second marriage inevitably rolls around, it’ll be real (realer than whatever you’re feeling for Harry, because you’re still not sure) and your father will walk you down the aisle and you’ll be able to go shopping for a big gorgeous wedding dress like you’d always dreamt of wearing.

You haven't even bought a dress. The one you’re wearing now, staring at yourself in the floor length mirror propped against your bedroom wall, is one you’d purchased for your college graduation to wear beneath your gown - simple and flowy, falling to just about your mid-thigh, and the only redeeming quality for even being considered a wedding dress is its white color. Still - it isn’t as though it’s a real wedding, in the traditional sense, so it doesn’t make sense for you to spend too much on a gown you’ll don for a trip to the courthouse and then get sad whenever you look at it again, post-divorce.

No, you don’t think you like it. You’d liked it for your graduation but for a wedding (your wedding) you wish you had something just a bit nicer, and you want to strip out of it and change back into your jeans but Harry’s sitting in your living room, waiting for you to model the stupid thing for him, and you’d hate to disappoint him. So you inhale softly, run your hand down the fabric, soft beneath your fingers, and reach for the door.

Harry’s on his phone when you step out of your bedroom, slowly shutting the door behind you, his body looking strangely large where he’s perched on the small loveseat in your living room. Everything in your apartment seems too small for him - or just too small in general - and it’ll be a nice change to live in a house where you can hold gatherings of more than 5 people without feeling like sardines in a can.

“Har,” you call, reaching down to tug the ends of your dress just a bit further down your thighs as you step further into the living room, bare feet padding against the plush rug your parents had gotten you as a Christmas gift the year prior. “What do you think of the dress?” You can hear the click of his phone as he turns it off, dropping it on the cushion beside him, and heat creeps up your cheeks as his gaze turns to you - you should feel self conscious, the way his eyes roll up and down your body, drinking in every bit of your dress, but you fucking love it. Love the way his lips part into a small o and upturn into a grin, how he pushes himself to stand and close the distance between you two until he’s hardly two inches away from you, how he reaches down to pick up the end of your dress as though examining the fabric.

“Do you like it?” You question as Harry drops your dress, letting the fabric fall back down around your thighs. “Wasn’t sure if I did.”

“I love it,” he tells you, immediate and forceful and you can tell he means it with his whole chest - maybe you love it, too. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You don’t think it’s too simple, do you?” Maybe you’re fishing for more compliments but you allow yourself to do it shamelessly. “It was my graduation dress - remember?”

“I do remember,” Harry grins, tugging at the bottom of your dress, and keeping his hands busy is a nervous habit of his that you’ve grown to recognize from a hundred miles away, but you can’t think of why, exactly, he’d be nervous now. “Looked so pretty, walkin’ across tha’ stage. I was so proud.”

You smile, gaze dropping down to where his fingers are fiddling with the skirt of your dress, and you think you’ll wear this dress every single goddamn day if he reacts as positively to it as he is now. “You sound like my dad.”

His nose scrunches when you look back up at him, and your heart twists inside your chest. “Don’ make it gross.” You simply shrug, bringing your fingers up to drum against his shoulders through the fabric of his Fleetwood Mac shirt, his muscles flexing ever so slightly beneath your touch. “M’being serious, though. I love the dress. Y’make the prettiest bride on the planet - m’a lucky man, aren’t I.”

From the moment you walked out of your room you’ve been feeling heat burning your cheeks but it doesn’t stop you from gently smacking his shoulder. “Stop it - you’re gonna make me blush.”

“Looks like y’already are, Mrs. Styles.”

Should that name make your stomach as topsy-turvy as it does? 

You shake your head, smoothing your palms over the front of your dress to both eradicate the wrinkles that adorn the fabric and to wipe off the sweat cropping up on your hands. You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous around Harry before and you can’t quite place your finger on why, but it’s getting more difficult to look him in the eye with your heart pounding as fast as it is. “I’m not gonna be Mrs. Styles for another week.” 

Harry exhales softly, fingertips tapping against your hip and you hadn’t even realized how close his hands were to that spot of your body - but it feels comforting, his touch on an oddly intimate part of you. “I can’t wait,” he says, and you can’t, either. “Makin’ me a very lucky groom, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe could make you go crazy if you focus on it for too long, so you don’t - and it’s hard to focus on much other than Harry himself as his head drops down, forehead pressed to yours, and oh God you can smell his fucking gum, and if you tilt your head up ever so slightly -

Is he going to kiss you? You think your heart will explode but you’ve never wanted anything more so you tilt your head up, just a bit, grip tightening on his shoulder, and you can feel his breath growing warmer against your face -

The sound of Harry’s phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of your haze.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands dropping off your hips, and your head drops downwards with a soft groan. It was so close. You could feel his breath against your face and how did that fucking opportunity pass you by? - “S’my mum. Fuck - m’sorry.” And you’re not sure if he’s apologizing for the call or what had (or, rather, had not) happened but it doesn’t matter.

One glance at the phone he’s tugged out of his pocket shows that he’s right - Anne’s contact photo smiles up at you and you give Harry a small nod, faking the smile you’re not feeling, before taking a step back against your plush carpet as he turns around, back to you, phone pressed to his ear.

“I’m gonna change,” you whisper to no one in particular. Harry’s head turns just a bit so you can catch the apologetic look on his face before he’s loudly greeting Anne, and you’ve never liked eavesdropping on their calls. So you turn and head to your bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind you and turning to stare at yourself, wide-eyed, in your mirror.

He almost kissed you.

He didn’t - but would he have? If Anne hadn’t rung him - would he have leaned down, breathing shaky, like how it always is when he’s nervous, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours? And you would’ve known exactly how it feels to be kissed by him, whether it would be as dream-like as all the times you’ve dreamt of it. His hands on your hips, yours on his shoulders, bodies slotted together until your hands are roaming and you’re pushing him on to the couch, sliding into his lap and his hands would roam to your thighs -

It doesn’t do well to think about it now. You don’t want to get yourself too worked up about it - that doesn’t do anyone much good - and you don’t want to take too long to change. So you inhale a soft breath, smooth your clammy palms back over the front of your wedding dress, and you allow yourself one final glance in the mirror at the attire you’ll be donning in a week’s time before reaching around to your back, fiddling with the zipper until you can begin to tug it down.

 --

 You and Harry haven’t talked too much since you showed him your dress, and it’s probably not very great etiquette for an engaged couple, but you two have never been normal anyway.

He sent you a picture of the suit he’s wearing and it’s as every bit unconventional as your excuse of a wedding dress, and you told him that - how you would be a pair for the books, the opposite of what a regular married couple looks like. And you texted him just yesterday and asked if he would make you two a reservation at your favourite restaurant for dinner after the elopement (he always tended to get the nicer tables, and you don’t pretend not to know why) and he sent you back two thumbs-up emojis in response.

You’re getting married in three days, though. It would probably be best to talk about it with him before you cross that bridge but it’s never been one of your stronger areas, so you leave it be for now.

“Are you alright?” Your friend questions, tilting her head in so you can hear her against the thumping music of the club. Your friends had insisted on dragging you out for a bachelorette party the second they hard of your engagement and it would be out of character for you to refuse a night of drinks on them - even if you’d rather stay home and think about Harry and all the things you should’ve done when he was at your apartment. Getting drunk out of your mind does seem preferable to wallowing, though, now that you’re out and about and well on your way to getting smashed - so you turn to Olivia and nod once, a simple jerk of your head.

“I’m fine,” you tell her, reaching over to grab the cocktail Amy had gotten for you and bringing the straw to your lips. “Just thinking about Harry.”

Amy snorts from her spot across the booth, dipping her finger into her empty shot glass and licking up the droplet she collected. “Can’t believe it took you two so long to get together.”

“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about it,” interjects Olivia, reaching over to grab your glass out of your hand and taking a sip of your drink. “How long have you two been together again?”

Fuck. You’re in the grey area between being tipsy and being drunk and you can’t remember how long you and Harry had claimed to be together. Was it a year or two years? You think it’s a year - you’d wanted to go as low as possible with your answer. Did we say six months? That seems too low. “I’ve liked him since I’ve known him,” you answer instead, which is absolutely the truth, and Amy and Olivia are both too drunk to ponder about your evasion of the question. “Loved him, even.”

Your fingers brush against your phone, sitting on the table face down, as your friends playfully swoon - the last time you’d texted Harry was to tell him you were going to the club, and you hadn’t checked to see if he responded. It’s always been a habit between the two of you to text where you’re going, in case something happens, which seems oddly barbaric at times but you’ve always appreciated it.

“You’re so lucky,” Amy informs you, reaching across the booth to intertwine your fingers. She gets sappy when she’s drunk and you can tell from the distinct crack in her voice that she’s mere seconds away from bursting into tears and professing how much she loves you and Olivia - you don’t ever quite enjoy being around to see that. “I mean, really. You and Harry - we always knew it would happen -”

“I should call him real quick,” you mumble, watching as her eyes water over, and Olivia rolls her eyes with a grin as she scoots around the other side of the booth so Amy can throw her arms around her. You grab your phone and push yourself out of the booth, maneuvering through the crowd of people until you’ve reached the bathroom.

It's a single stall and the club is small enough that you only have to wait a minute or two before a thoroughly shitfaced woman stumbles out of the bathroom, a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of her shoes, but she’s gone before you can point it out to her. You brush it off with a shrug and shut the door behind you once you’re inside the bathroom - it smells like Febreze and mint soap, and the scent of the mint reminds you of Harry’s breath and you really need to call him, don’t you.

You’re scrolling through your call log before you can wonder if calling your best friend who you’re in love with while you may be quite drunk is a bad idea - the phone is ringing just as you begin to - and he’s picked it up just when you realize you’ve made a mistake.

“Hey, babe,” Harry says from the other end, voice crackling with the poor reception in the club. He sounds groggy and raspy and you can tell you’ve either woken him up or he’s trying to go to sleep, and you don’t actually know what time it is, you realize. “What’re you up to?”

“I’m at a club,” you tell him, and you can hear his soft exhale of air and you can practically picture the slow smile spreading across his lips. “I’m out with Amy and Olivia - they wanted to take me out for a bachelorette party or something - s’kinda dumb, I dunno -”

“Are y’drunk? S’just, you’re slurrin’ a lot -”

“I’m tipsy,” as you sit back on the closed toilet seat, fingernails digging into your thigh. You don’t actually know what you’d called him to say but four days without talking to Harry seems like it’s setting some sort of record and you hate it. “Just wanted to call because - um - well, I miss you.”

For a second you think the call may have broken up - you can’t hear much beside his soft breathing, and you pull the phone away to check if it’s still connected. But then he sighs softly, and you’re quick to press your phone back to your ear. “I miss y’too, m’love - ‘course I do.”

“That’s sweet.” You hum softly, kicking your toes against the tiled bathroom floor. “I thought you might be mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Dunno,” you shrug. “That’s why I was confused. But you haven’t texted me much.”

You can fucking sense him rolling his eyes. “Well, y’didn’t text me either. I thought you were mad at me -”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what happened the other day,” you interject, and you know you wouldn’t be telling him this if you weren’t teetering more towards being drunk instead of tipsy, “and I really wanted to kiss you, you know. I mean, I thought you were going to - and then it didn’t happen.”

“Well, m’mum called.”

“Would you have done it if she didn’t?”

There’s a pause for only the briefest of seconds before Harry says, “‘Course I would have.”

Your heart flutters inside your chest and you lean your head back against the wall, nails digging further into your thigh and it’s difficult to hold back the grin that threatens to split your goddamn face in two. God, he would have. He would have kissed you - does he love you like how you love him? It seems fucking unreal, like something you’d dream up in your deepest sleep. You’d never thought Harry would ever feel the same way, even as you got a fucking marriage license together and planned out the dinner you’d eat after your elopement and -

You can’t think of a single other one of your friends who would fucking marry you for any reason, house or no house, life or death. And who would you do it for? Not Amy, not Olivia, even if they asked you nicely. It’s a commitment - a huge one - one that you wouldn’t be willing to do for anyone.

But you’d do it for Harry, in a heartbeat. You know you would. You’d have the fucking dress on before he could finish asking, and isn’t that what you had done, really? He hadn’t had to convince you much at all. You’d been willing from the get-go.

“Really?” Your voice is barely a breath, a soft exhale of air, reeking of the giddy joy you’re feeling at his proclamation. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Y’know I never lie to you.” Harry sounds nearly offended at the mere idea. “You are m’fiance. Comes with a code of conduct.”

You roll your eyes, and just then there’s a loud knock against the door - you jump violently, phone nearly slipping from your grasp. For a minute you’d forgotten you’re in a club bathroom and you know you’ve been here far too long to be appropriate - you’ll give yourself just one more minute to talk to Harry. “What about when we get divorced? Gonna lie to me then?”

“Always talkin’ about the divorce,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds so full of adoration that you’re nearly overwhelmed by it. “D’you have such little confidence about the strength of our relationship?”

If it were up to you, you’d be with Harry forever - but you can’t tell him that, not yet. “It’s not as though it’s a traditional relationship, you know. I don’t think most marriages that began for the sake of a house inheritance last too long,” you smile, feeling heat burning up your face even if he can’t see you. “Just generally speaking.”

“Hope y’got the statistics t’back that one up -”

Another louder knock shakes you again, and you jump up as though someone had set you aflame. Your phone nearly slips out of your clammy grasp once more and you clear your throat, lowering the device to your shoulder and calling, “Just a second!” to whoever’s waiting impatiently outside. You raise your phone back to your ear and clear your throat again. “I’ve gotta go, Har. I’m in the bathroom at the club - been in here a bit too long.”

“Aright,” Harry says, and you can hear soft shuffling from the other end, audio still crackled by the reception. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

You tilt your head to the side, scrunching your nose up before remembering he can’t see you. “I think it’s tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Now you’re a stickler for tradition?”

“I’ll see you at the courthouse, Har,” you tell him, before pulling the phone from your ear and hanging up. For a second you can’t move, staring down at Harry’s contact in your phone with a giddy grin that surely makes you look like some child in a candy store - and, in a way, you are - and it’s only a third knock at the bathroom door that has you scrambling out the door, giving an apologetic grin to the girl waiting impatiently.

 --

 Being married - for the record - doesn’t feel too much different than before.

There’s a shiny ring on your finger that Harry had bought, and when you glance across the table where he’s sitting, clutching his menu, you can see the similar wedding ring on his left hand - it’s simplistic and small and contrasts with the rest of his clunky rings and it makes you feel strangely warm inside when you spend too long looking at it. And, even after you and Harry had talked at the club, your ‘post-elopement’ dinner doesn’t feel entirely different than all of the other dinner dates you’d shared before the entire situation began. It’s familiar and sweet and his ankle is hooked around yours under the table, forcing a permanent heat onto your cheeks.

Harry rests his menu on the table, fingertips drumming against the laminated paper, and you similarly drop yours to look at him. “Think m’gonna get the spaghetti.”

It’s a testament to the slight air of awkwardness surrounding you both that the only thing he can think to talk about is the food he’s getting - but you’ll play along. “I like the raviolis,” you tell him. “Think I’ll get those.”

He hums softly, pushing his menu further into the table. “Can y’believe tha’ we’re married? I can’t. Seems so weird.”

“Doesn’t feel that different,” you disagree, toes tapping against his ankle beneath the table. “It’s not like we didn’t go out for dinner together before we got hitched.”

“We’re playin’ footsies under the table, babe.”

You grin down at your napkin, resting on your lap on top of your wedding dress. “Be careful or I’ll kick you, Har.”

His ankle tightens just a bit around yours beneath the table and you could watch that small smile spreading across his face for the rest of your life. “Y’wouldn’t dare - don’t y’love me?”

Yes, you do, so you resist the urge to unhook your ankle from around his and deliver a swift kick to his calf - just rest your palms on the table, scratching lightly at the rustic wood of the table. It’s hard for you to even pretend to be mad at him when all you can think about is how much you want to climb over the table and straddle him - as his wife you suppose it isn’t an insane thought, and you’re nearly certain he’s feeling the same way. Hadn’t he told you he would have kissed you if he hadn’t been called by Anne? Maybe you’ll get a chance to do it again - later. You’ll never give up the opportunity again.

“When d’you get t’move into the house?” Harry questions, leaning in just a bit in his seat. 

“A few months, I think.” You shrug. “Reckon I’ll start redecorating before then, though. I’m already looking at furniture - I’ve gotta save up for most of it, though. Might sell my apartment before then.” There’s a pause, and then you shrug once more, picking at a crack in the table. “I’ll probably move back in with my parents.”

Harry’s eyebrows are raised when you glance up at him, fingers paused in their drumming on the menu. “Are y’kidding? We’re married. You can move in wit’ me.”

“I can’t ask you to do that -”

“Not asking, are you? Even if we didn’t just elope at a courthouse, you’re still m’best friend. Can’t have you moving in t’your mum’s basement.”

You smile softly, flattening your palms against the table and craning your neck to examine the ring - proof that it had really happened, that you’re really married. It still doesn’t feel quite real, no matter how many times you and Harry casually talk about it. “Was gonna live in her attic, actually.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ll pay f’the furniture, too. Don’t look at me like tha’ - s’our house. Needs t’be ready f’when we move in.”

You hesitate, trying poorly to conceal the way your grin is arching further upwards at the mere prospect of what he’s hinting at. Living with Harry? Jesus, even if you weren’t in love with him, living with him sounds like an absolute dream, only made better by your feelings for him. And picturing walking through an Ikea, searching for furniture, feeling his arm around your shoulders as you two look online for decorations - if heaven were a place on Earth, it would be your Aunt Alice’s estate, soon inhabited by you and your husband. “Well, we’ll talk about it, alright?” you land on as your response. 

For a moment, neither of you say anything, and the silence isn’t as stifling with awkwardness as it had been before. Then Harry reaches over, resting his hand overtop of yours, fingers instinctively intertwining, and your heart nearly splits itself in two - he initiated it, holding your hand, and maybe you shouldn’t feel so surprised but you can’t fucking help it. Your scalp is tingling and you swear your eyes are going to bubble over and his hand feels just as soft and beautiful as you’d expected - as you’d always dreamed of.

You’re not sure when, exactly, there would ever be a better time to tell him than now, so you clear your throat and squeeze his hand and confess, “I’ve liked you for a really long time, Har.”

Sharing your feelings isn’t necessarily your strongest spot but you’re feeling egged on by absolutely everything, and the way Harry brushes his thumb against your palm encourages you to continue. “I mean - since we met, basically - but I never told you. Never thought you would like me back.”

“I did,” he interjects, and you look up at him with furrowed brows. “Liked you back, I mean. Clearly - hope y’didn’t think I’d run off an’ marry anybody this fast.”

“I just thought you were being nice.”

“You’re silly, then.”

“A real idiot,” you proclaim, rubbing soft circles into the back of Harry’s hand, and you swear you’ll never let go unless someone fucking rips you away. “Guess I should’ve figured it out, then - seems like we did everything in the wrong order, right?”

Harry snorts, a noise that draws the slightest attention from an older couple sitting at a table beside you, but neither of you pay them any attention. “Get married first, fall in love second.”

“I was already in love,” and you’re not sure why, exactly, you had said that but it feels right and true falling off your tongue so you decide, pointedly, not to regret it.

There’s no hesitation when Harry responds, voice laced with the authenticity you’re so desperately craving - “Reckon I was, too.” You barely get a minute to process that and how it’s making your stomach do flips and turns like an Olympic medalist before he’s standing up, fingers still interlocked with yours to pull you up with him. “How d’you feel ‘bout a sleepover tonight?”

“A sleepover?”

He barely looks at you as he fishes through the pocket of his dress pants to pull out his wallet. “Not like we haven’t had them before.”

That’s true - you’ve slept over at Harry’s house so many times, it’s like a second home to you - but you have a distinct idea that, based off of your previous conversation and the wedding rings shining on both of your fingers, this sleepover will be just a bit different. 

“Skipping out on the reservation, then?” you question, squeezing Harry’s hand as he tosses a $50 onto the table - a significant overkill for your lemonade and his Coke but you suppose he’s feeling rather generous today. “I am rather hungry.”

“We’ll eat at my house,” he insists, leading you through the maze of tables with a grip that’s so tight, you wonder if he’s having the same qualms as you are about never letting go. “Y’like pizza, don’t you?”

 --

 You’ve been in Harry’s house more times than you can count, but it’s never been like this.

His hand is still firm in yours and it’s a feeling you adore - even if his palm has gotten clammier with every second, every step you took closer to his front door, and you can practically smell the nervousness rolling off of him. It’s not unlike the worry that’s overtaken you because you’re not quite sure what he’s expecting - only know what you want to happen and you pray to any god above that your desires align with his.

The sound of Harry shutting the door is the only crack of noise burning through the otherwise thick silence surrounding you. Neither of you had known what to say and the car ride was taken in comfortable silence, hands clasped and heads bobbing to soft music playing on the radio, but being in his house is different - there’s no music, no excuse for Harry to keep his eyes off of you, nowhere to lean your head and pretend to be resting your eyes while your heart uncontrollably thumps against your chest.

In ways, it’s better. Most ways, in fact.

Slowly, you turn to face Harry, fingers drumming against the back of his hand. His breathing is heavy and his eyes never leave yours, and you’re reminded remarkably of trying on your dress for the first time in front of him and your position hadn’t been too unlike this one - maybe now you can do it right.

It feels entirely natural, tilting your head up until you can easily slot your lips to Harry’s. They’re soft and plump and he kisses you back with a vigor you hadn’t quite expected - deepening it before you have the chance to react, his free hand that’s not clutching yours roaming to your neck and you can’t ignore the way your stomach flips at the feeling of his hand on your throat. But then his hand keeps moving up, palm pressing to your cheek in such a sweet gesture that doesn’t at all match the intensity with which he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth - your hand lands on his waist, gripping the flowy material of his dress shirt, pulling his body as close to yours as you can get.

You only pull away to catch your breath, grip tightening on his shirt to ensure he won’t move away - you need him close to you, need to feel his body against yours - the bulge near his thigh that you can feel against your pelvis, hardening with every second that passes.

“Why’d you move?” Harry questions, voice soft and vulnerable and you can’t help but lean up and land another kiss to his mouth. 

“Had to breathe, Har,” you murmur, smoothing your hands against his waist and the wrinkles you’ve surely created in the fabric. His fingers brush the edge of your jawline and you can feel your skin growing goosebumps beneath his touch.

He simply hums in response, ducking his head down to kiss you again. It’s sweeter this time, soft and fluffy but you don’t want that now - God, you want his hand around your neck and his knee between your thighs but perhaps that’ll have to wait for another time. You’re needy for just about anything you can get and if that’s sugary sweet kisses, a touch so gentle you could trick yourself into believing it isn’t there, then you’re more than grateful.

Harry’s teeth dig into your bottom lip, hard enough to have you moaning into his mouth and your nails dig into his through his shirt - the resulting whine into your mouth has you smirking against his lips, pushing your hips further into his. It’s the clearest way you can think of to tell him that you need him beyond kisses and touches.

“Jesus,” he breathes and you can feel his cock, twitching against your thigh and it’s a sensation you never thought you’d be able to experience outside of your deepest dreams - it feels twice as good as you’d imagined. “Gonna make me go crazy, babe.”

That’s exactly what you want.

“Hey,” and you pull away from him, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath still hot on your face, “don’t we have to fulfill the tradition of consummating the marriage?”

He laughs, a loud exhalation of air rather than his true barking laugh, but you smile anyway at the sound. “S’not the middle ages - no one’s expecting us to, if y’don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to.” Harry’s hand slides backwards into your hair, pulling the strands into a ponytail and tugging and your resulting moan has him smirking like a smug bastard against your lips. “God, Har. I really want to.”

It seems that that was the exact response he’d wanted - you get one last lingering kiss to your lips before Harry’s pulling away, hand falling away from your hair and other still interlocked with your own. You don’t have a second to question where, exactly, he’s leading you but then he’s tugging you through the foyer and down the halls and up the staircase you’ve grown to know so well - the trek to his bedroom has never seemed so viciously long until now, but by the time Harry swings open the door, you feel as though you’ve been walking for hours instead of barely a minute.

“On the bed, babe,” he directs you, all raspy tone and dominance lacing every last syllable and you can’t ignore the gush of arousal you can feel rushing straight to your core. It’s the stuff that makes up dreams, really, his fucking voice, and you know just the four simple words would be enough to get you off for years from now. “C’mon.”

You wouldn’t dream of disobeying - your footsteps are nearly completely silent on the carpet as you walk over to the end of Harry’s bed, pushing yourself up to sit on the plush duvet, sinking into the mattress that feels like an absolute cloud compared to the rock you’re used to sleeping on. For a brief second, he doesn’t move - just stands and stares at you, chest heaving through the baby blue dress shirt that your needy grasp had wrinkled. Then he moves, shutting the door with a barely perceptible click before making his way over to you, gazing up at him with heat blazing in your eyes.

Perhaps you’re expecting him to push you onto the bed, to fulfill the dominant tone he’d held before, so it is a bit of a surprise to see your best friend (your husband) dropping to his knees before you, fingertips ever so gently trailing up and down your calves.

The bedroom is so silent, save for your panting breaths and Harry’s shaky ones and you reckon he may be more nervous than you are - you’d expected him to handle all of the confidence between you two but his fingers are shaking as he pulls off your heels, resting them side by side on the carpet at the end of the bed. Chills crop up over your skin as his gentle touch roams up your legs, landing on your knee, and your breath hitches in your throat as the man you’ve loved for nearly 5 years leans in, lips landing a soft kiss to the top of your calf.

This isn’t what you had expected - him fucking worshipping you, on his knees - you’d never pictured it in a million years. And maybe it’s proof of the difference between him and the other guys you’d been with - your ex-boyfriends and flings had always been worried about their pleasure, never paying you any attention, and Harry couldn’t be closer to the end of the spectrum. Your entire body feels warm beneath his watchful gaze and touch, how he brings one hand up to snap firmly when your eyes flutter shut. 

“Look at me,” Harry directs, and despite the slight strain in his actions, his words still hold a never-faltering dominance that he’d had before. “C’mon, babe. I don’ want you to look away from me - can y’do that?”

It’s a task that’s easier said than done, but you nod anyway, swallowing thickly as Harry redirects his attention back to your legs. His hand, resting delicately on your left knee as though you’d break if he put too much pressure, slides down the length of your leg until he’s grasping your ankle, kneading the soft skin in his grasp while his lips linger at the top of your knee.

Using his grip on your ankle, Harry hoists your leg up onto the bed without warning, your toes digging into the end of the bed - uses his other hand to push your thigh outward so you’re on display for him like a goddamn feast and his smug grin proves that he can see just how wet you are, soaking through the white lace panties you’d chosen for the occasion. Heat blooms up your cheeks as he presses an open mouthed kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing your soft skin, and then he gives a dramatic inhale and - that’s -

You reach down, bracing both palms on the side of his face and forcing your husband (husband!) to look at you in the eye. He looks confused by your interjection and apologetic and that isn’t what you were going for but you hadn’t expected him to want to eat you out - most guys didn’t.

“You don’t have to do that, Har,” you murmur, giving a pointed glance to your lap that he’s been eyeing like it’s his dessert. “I won’t be mad.”

And Harry looks almost offended by the prospect of not wanting to, like you’d insulted him - “I want to. D’you not want me to?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice hardly above a breath, and when he begins to pull away you continue. “No! I mean - yes, I want you to.”

He grins, wide and toothy and reminding you of exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place, and you settle back into your spot on the bed with your nerves almost completely eradicated. He wants to - he’s not doing it because he feels obligated - it’s already a step up from any other guy you’d ever been with.

Fingers trail up your thighs as Harry’s lips close around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, cheeks hollowing as he sucks a deep purple hickey, and you lift your hips just a bit so he can hook his fingers in the waistband of your panties and begin to tug them down. The crotch area is practically dripping with your arousal and it takes a bit more force to tug it away from your cunt but once they’re gone, Harry grabs your ankle again and straightens out your leg, making it easier for him to tug the offending material down your body and toss them away from the bed before resting your foot back on the edge.

You can hear his shaky breathing as he pulls his lips away from your thigh, thumb smoothing over the mark he’d left as if to prove it exists. You’d get it fucking tattooed if you could - to forever commemorate this experience - his mark in such a secretive place, just a breath away from where you need him most.

“Jus’ - jus’ tell me if y’want me t’stop,” Harry tells you, eyes interlocking with yours once more, and you jerk your head up and down once. “Lean back f’me, then - not too far, jus’ a bit - still need t’see you.”

So you lean back, propping yourself up on your arms, a barely reclined position from how you’d been sitting before. It’s easier to see him as he grabs the hem of your dress, tugs it up just a bit, but when you lift your hips so he can pull it out from under your ass he doesn’t comply - well, perhaps he has other plans with it, doesn’t want the dress to come off just yet, and you can respect that.

The time it takes for Harry to duck his head beneath your dress, tongue flicking against your overly sensitive folds, seems like fucking years even if it’s hardly a second, but when he does your hips instinctively jerk forward into his mouth. His eyes are flashing when he looks up at you and you breathe out a stream of apologies, heart thumping in your chest, fingernails digging into the comforter beneath you. “Don’ move,” he directs, and you nod again and again and you don’t stop until his lips close in around your clit.

Your head drops back with a low moan as Harry’s teeth graze your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks the sensitive nub like it’s what he was born to do. The bottom of your dress covers the top of his head so you can’t see what he’s doing - you have no idea what his next move is and it makes the pleasure rolling through your body that much better.

“Fuck - fuck, Har -” the only two words you can think to moan roll off your tongue like a mantra, your back arching upwards despite his warning not to move but he doesn’t mention it - just drags one hand up, fingertips light and dancing on your thighs until he can splay his forearm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the bed. Your hand moves from digging into the sheets to digging into his scalp, tugging at the loose strands of hair that smell ever so slightly of gel and it makes your heart swell to imagine him putting product in his hair for the elopement - but before you have time to dwell on the sweetness of the sentiment, that talented tongue is licking a thin stripe up your folds before flicking your clit and you’re brought back to reality. “Fuck.”

“Feel good?” Harry mumbles, muffled where his face is pressed firm to your pussy and the vibrations of his words reverberate against your clit, sending a chill up your spine, and you let out a low whine at the sensation. 

“Yes,” you breathe in return, tugging at his hair just a bit, the strands forming a makeshift ponytail like he’d done to you before. “Feels so good, Harry, god -”

His head pulls back just a bit, hem of your dress dropping to just the tip of his nose so you can see his eyes - smug and glinting and you’re sure that, if you could see his mouth, those lips would be upturned into a smirk and practically dripping with your arousal - but he goes back in just as soon as he’d pulled out, burying his face in the apex of your thighs and you collapse back against the bed with a shout.

Whatever order he’d given you to maintain eye contact disappears. It isn’t as though you can see his eyes anyway, and you couldn’t stop yours from rolling back into your head if you tried. Ecstasy rolls through your body and, God, you know you’re close already, thighs tensing under where Harry’s palm kneads the soft skin, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll see bruises tomorrow. Your cunt clenches and flutters around the emptiness you’re yearning to get rid of and your back arches up again, Harry’s restraint on your torso not enough to stop it now, and you’re so fucking close.

“Harry -” you moan, digging your fingernails into Harry’s scalp and relishing in his responding moan to your clit - “gonna cum, Har -”

He doesn’t say anything - but you can feel his tongue continuing its work, up and down your folds and circling your clit and that’s response enough. Your hips jerk into his face, back arching as you grasp his hair tight enough that it has to fucking hurt but then you’re cumming and -

“Oh, fuck!”

Your voice is high pitched, cracked with a desperate sob right in the middle of your words before you’re holding Harry’s head to your pussy, his tongue working your clit like he was born for it, his low moans muffled against you. The hand previously holding down your torso slides up your body until he can shove his hand into the top of your dress, tugging it down so your chest is. He plucks at your nipple before grasping your tit, full in his palm, and the added stimulation prolongs your orgasm, hips rolling against Harry’s working mouth.

You can’t see straight when Harry pulls his head out from the bottom of your chest but when your vision focuses you’re beyond thankful. His chin is glistening with your arousal, tongue poking out to lap at the moisture on his lips and he dons that shit-eating grin you’ve grown to know so well. You usually see it when he wins a board game or when you’re celebrating something - seeing it on his face after he’s finished giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever gotten is certainly different but not unwelcome by anyone’s standards.

There’s a second where all you do is lie back and catch your breath - staring up at the ceiling above you, chest heaving as the aftershocks race through your body. Harry, meanwhile, pushes himself to his feet, muttering a small groan about God, m’fuckin knees and gettin’ too old for this, aren’t I?

Lazily you hold your hand out towards him, wiggling your fingers, and he reaches out to interlock your fingers again. “How was that?” he questions, voice soft and almost insecure and it’s a sharp contrast from the dominance he held before, but you know it’ll come back.

“I think you’re a natural at that, Mr. Styles,” you tell him, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you pull him closer to you until his knees hit the bed and he’s forced to collapse on top of you, grin cracking onto his face. “Gonna undress me?”

“‘Course,” Harry murmurs, leaning down to place a brief kiss to your lips, but before you can lift your head to deepen it he’s rolling off of you, shifting onto his side and shuffling upwards so his head rests on the stack of pillows. You raise your eyebrows at him - it isn’t as though he can take your dress off from that position - but, as though he can read your mind, he raises his hand and pats his lower stomach pointedly. “Climb up, babe.”

For what seems like the millionth time today, you can feel heat pulsing in your cheeks but you hope it doesn’t show - just sit up, swing your legs around so you’re straddling Harry, hands on his chest and gazing down at him like the God he seems to be. His hair is splayed out on the pillows beneath him, bottom lip tugged between his teeth, and you can’t help yourself - lean down to land your lips to his again, and this time both of you allow it to deepen. His hand starts at your cheek like it had before but you reach for it, fingers wrapping around his wrist and maneuvering it downwards until his palm is wrapped around the column of your throat, and he squeezes once experimentally.

You moan softly, hips rolling against the pointed bulge in his dress pants, and Harry’s eyebrows raise. “No fuckin’ way,” he breathes, squeezing again just to hear the way your breath catches. “Gonna be th’fuckin’ death f’me.”

You’re fine with that, and you reckon he is too.

You reach behind you, tapping along your back until you can reach the zipper. You’ve only tugged it down an inch or two before Harry’s free hand replaces yours, dragging the zipper down as far as it can go before reaching for the bottom of the dress. It’s gone in an instant - tossed off the edge of the bed, to be worried about later - and you can feel his fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra before it comes undone, and then you’re naked.

You’d expected yourself to feel more embarrassed, or perhaps just nervous, and maybe it’s the effects of your previous orgasm but you’re feeling surprisingly calm - or maybe it’s how Harry looks up at you like you’re some sort of goddess sent from above, as though he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

It does wonders for your self esteem, truthfully.

“Gonna undress me, then?” Harry questions, hands smoothing up and down your thighs, eyes drinking in every bit of your exposed body on top of him.

You hum softly, pinching at the soft material of his shirt. “I don’t think so - want you to fuck me in your fancy clothes.”

“Well, if I’d known tha’ was an option -”

“Do you want me to put the dress back on?”

“No!”

You grin down at him before rolling your hips over his again, and it’s the last thing you manage to do before his grip lands on your hips and he’s flipping you over - your head lands dangerously close to hitting the headboard but it’s worth it, seeing him above you, fully clothed, pupils lust-blown and wide.

It hardly takes a second for Harry to undo the button to his pants and the sound of the zipper being undone is like music to your fucking ears - you spread your legs, letting him slot his body between them and oh, you can feel the tip of his fucking cock it’s right there and -

The first movement, Harry pushing himself inside of you, has you throwing your head back against the pillow, the moan coming from your throat mixing with a cry. He’s big - certainly bigger than you’d ever expected and bigger than any guy you’d been with - feels like he could split you in half if he wanted to but he stops, hands smoothing up and down your body, and you make a point of reaching for his hand and interlocking your fingers.

You’ll never grow tired of holding his hand, you think. Not for a while, anyway.

“How’re you doin’?” he questions, voice strained, and when your eyes shift back to him you can see the droplets of sweat beaded on his face. “Jus’ - jus’ tell me when, alright?”

“When,” you breathe almost immediately. You hadn’t needed too much time to adjust but you need him to move - you’re so pent up and you know it won’t take long to take you to your second orgasm but, God, he needs to fucking move. “Please, Har - please, fuck me.”

It doesn’t seem he needed much more encouragement than that. With one final move of wrapping his free hand firm around your neck and giving another small squeeze, Harry pulls out agonizingly slowly until just the tip of his cock remains in your heat. Just as you open your mouth to beg him to move again he slams back in with a force you hadn’t anticipated, your body rocking backwards of its own accord with the weight behind the thrust.

It’s exactly what you’d needed, though - fast and rough and his hand, cutting off your airflow just a bit, just enough to have you quivering beneath him. The low groan that rips out of his throat, reverberating through the humid bedroom has you pushing your hips up to his, trying to deepen where he’s buried inside of you to the hilt but you’re not sure how much deeper he could get. Feels like he could split you in half with every desperate thrust, every rut of his hips into yours and yours back into his.

“Oh - god - m’fuckin’ good girl, so tight around m’cock -”

Another rush of arousal gushes straight to your core with his filthy words and your head falls back into the pillow with a high whine, nails digging into the back of his hand as his other one tightens grip around your neck. It makes every desperate moan and cry that much airier and you can tell Harry likes it, staring down at you as his hips pound yours with absolutely no mercy and you don’t want any, anyway. It’s the subject of every single fantasy you’ve ever had about him, rough and hard and the sound of skin slapping skin overpowering your needy noises.

You’d never dreamt it would feel so good.

“Oh god, Harry!” Your eyes are rolling back into your head as your free hand trails down your stomach, shaking fingers focusing on your ignored clit and beginning tight circles around the nub. The jolts of pleasure that run through your body are - god, fucking amazing and you know you’re close, hardly need anything else to tip you over the edge. “Gonna - gonna cum, Har -”

It’s a testament to, perhaps, the long-growing tension between the two of you that his head drops backwards with a cry of me, too in a tone that’s so desperately vulnerable and it’s exactly what you’d needed - the reminder, in the midst of the rough thrusts and desperate moans, that this isn’t a one time thing. If you both allow it, it’s the rest of your life, just like this - and, God, you’ll allow it.

Your cunt clenches around your cock as you cum, eyes rolling back into your head and body spasming beneath him. In the midst of it Harry pulls out and you don’t get a second to question the sudden emptiness before you feel a familiar warmth hitting your lower stomach, and you open your eyes in time to see your husband, hand working at his cock as ribbons of cum spurt onto your stomach.

(You think you could cum again just from the sight but - well, you’ll hold back.)

His breathing is choppy and desperate, broken occasionally by a needy moan until he’s finished and he collapses on his back beside you, hands still intertwined with no intention of letting go. Nothing needs to be said - not yet - not for a little while, where you’ll talk about it more. 

A little while ends up merely being a minute or two before Harry swings his legs over the edge of the bed, hand still clasped in yours, and makes to stand up - it’s only your tightening grasp on his hand that forces him to stop, glancing behind him to look at you.

“Don’t,” you plead, throat already feeling sore and voice raspy. “Just - another minute, alright? Then clean up.”

He hums softly but you know he won’t resist the prospect of just a brief cuddle - one of the few things you hadn’t done often when you were just friends, because you knew that, if Harry held you as close to him as he is now, lips pressed to your forehead, you wouldn’t be able to resist telling him how you felt about him.

Doesn’t matter now, though. And his arms feel so warm around you, clammy palm still pressed to yours like a fucking couple in middle school but you wouldn’t dream of letting go. It’s all so - so peaceful, lying with him and listening to his heartbeat as you rest your head to his chest, listening to his heartbeat thumping as fast and hard as yours is.

And - well. Barely a month ago you were convinced your Aunt Alice was the worst woman in the world - a hypocrite and an asshole, set out to taunt you by lording your dream home over you and snatching it away when you couldn’t find a husband in time. But now? Feeling Harry, landing soft kisses again and again to your forehead, you figure she’s not so bad, after all.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Kara Danvers x Reader : Behave

Summary: Only good girls get rewarded. 

Genre: 18+ Smut Includes(d/s dynamic, choking, edging, spanking, bondage, temperature play, overstimulation)

Request: Yes / No

Word Count: 3,104

* * * * * * 

Blazing blue eyes watch you from across the apartment. A deep dent rests between light brown eyebrows as pink lips press together.

This is the third time you’ve bent over to show your ass to Winn and James and there’s no way they weren’t looking with the way you’re dressed tonight. That plus your shameless flirting with Lena.

Kara trusts that none of them will do anything but that is far beyond the point. 

When you raise up you make direct eye contact with your girlfriend and she catches the glint in your eyes. She’s seen it a million times and knows exactly what it means, that doesn’t change a thing for her. 

The second you step away from your shared group of friends into J’onn’s dining room, she’s grabbing your hand and pinning you to the wall around the corner. Her thumb and fingers press into either sides of your neck, the palm of her hand against your throat. When you swallow you can feel the slight pressure of her palm.

“You are testing my patience little one.” She speaks in a lustfully menacing tone that sends a shiver down your back straight to your core.

The way you raise your head and look down at the blonde could be taken as a challenge from anybody else but Kara knows it’s your way of exposing yourself to her, in the only way you can at the moment. More of your neck is laid bare before her eyes, a just barely noticeable vein there that Kara stares at, she could just lean forward and leave a perfect mark right there. You’d walk away from here with everyone knowing you’re hers.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” You feign innocence. 

With the way she narrows her eyes you just barely fear that she’s going to hit you with her laser eyes. 

Her jaw clenches and you swear you can hear it click.“ You do a lot of cute things, but playing dumb isn’t one of them.” Kara keeps her voice low which just adds to the faint throb between your legs that you’ve been feeling since you saw her putting on your favorite strap earlier.“ If you behave for the rest of the night, you can get the reward I had planned for you after your punishment.” 

Knowing that your girlfriend will hold true to her words you nod. And you do in fact behave for the remainder of the night. 

You’d gotten the exact reaction you wanted from her so you have no reason to dig a deeper hole, even though there are times where you like to push the limits. 

By the time everyone is heading out, your anticipation has reached its peak. You can barely keep your expression neutral as you hug J’onn goodnight and walk out with Kara. The blonde wastes no time securing you in her arms and shooting across the sky to her apartment. 

In a matter of seconds, she’s setting you down in the living room, her hands gripping your hips,“ go strip and wait for me.” The swat on your ass is hardly enough to even warm you up for what’s to come but it does make you jump a little.

“Yes ma’am,” you say teasingly, making sure to look back at her when you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

Inside the bedroom you make quick work of shedding all your clothes off, neatly folding them and setting them on the dresser, before placing yourself on the edge of the bed. 

There isn’t a single noise that gives way to what she could be doing and it slightly worries you. However you trust Kara. This is far from the first time something like this has happened so you know she won’t hurt you or do anything you’re uncomfortable with.

When she finally steps into the room she comes to stand in front of you. With a teasing slowness, she removes each article of clothing without taking her eyes off of you at all. You swallow at the sight of her completely bare in front of you.

The number of nights you’d gotten off on just the sight of her and your own touch plays in the back of your head, only fueling the flames that are growing inside of you.

Reaching out, Kara curls a finger under your chin,“ what’s our word little one?”

“Jumanji.” 

Despite the intensity of the situation, a smile cracks on both of your faces. Your safe word never fails to amuse you both. It was oddly fitting when you’d chosen it, both of you being movie buffs, also what better phrase to use to stop something you can’t handle or don’t want happening. 

The smile wipes from her face quickly.“ Good girl,” she stands up straight,“ lay back and put your hands over your head.”

You do as she says, scooting up the bed and crossing your arms at the wrists above your head. Patience chips away as you wait for her but you remain silent, there’s no need to worsen your punishment. What it’ll be tonight you don’t know but Kara never disappoints.

Your beautiful girlfriend returns from her trip to the closet with an all too familiar cloth in her hand. Made from the same fabric that her cape is, makes this particular cloth perfect for the current situation. Bullets couldn’t pierce her cape so you both know there’s no way you’re getting out of it when it’s tied perfectly around your wrists.

Ever loving, Kara tugs on the perfect bow and glances down at you,“ too tight?” You shake your head in response. 

It truly is a sight to see the woman throw her legs over your body, sitting her ass back on your thighs as she runs her hands up your sides.“ I’m proud of you for behaving,” she speaks softly,“ but I can’t disregard how you acted at the beginning of the night little one.”

She doesn’t miss the way your breath seems to hitch when her fingers brush under your breasts.“ You gonna be a good girl for the rest of the night?”

“Yes.”

“I know.” Dragging her nails down your side ever so slightly, she raises up enough to spin you around. 

Her chosen punishment is a spanking, made incredibly clear when her hand lands on your ass, much harder than it had earlier. The shock of the first hit always sends you pressing into the bed, a near silent hiss slipping through your teeth. 

Each hit gets progressively harder and makes you all the more aroused. The magic number is twenty but you can feel the slick coating your thighs at ten. 

“Oh you’re enjoying this aren’t you?” She pauses,“ you love when I mark this little ass up don’t you?” The next smack tells you she expects a reply. 

A sigh of yes falls from your lips, the struggle of not squeezing your thighs together growing by the second. 

She tsks,“ but this is supposed to be a punishment baby.” Before you can even reply she spanks you harder than she has all night. A mix between a cry and a moan leaving your lips.

The light throb on your backside is welcomed as it accompanies a wave of arousal. 

But you know, as pleasuring as you find this, it won’t be enough to douse the fire in your belly. 

When she delivers the final smack you swear you can feel it all over. It’s possible she put a little more power behind that one, enough so that you never forget but not enough to truly hurt you. Letting you calm down, she straddles your back, hands slipping around to your front. The instant her fingers pinch your nipples you know the break is over. It never lasts long. 

Just as she had before, she turns you over. You can now feel her core against your abdomen. Her slightest movement spreads her slick across your stomach along with a light brush from the harness of the strap. The thought alone of her being so turned on is enough to make you moan, the sound starting deep in your throat.

Soft fingers brush your now pert nipples, one of the appendages replaced by the warmth of her mouth. Her tongue swirls around your nipple, teeth gently biting into it, tugging up to leave a tingling sensation.

You swear you were about to say something, possibly ask that she speed up just a little, but the words are snatched from you mouth and brain at the suddenly cold feeling on your had been warm breasts. 

A glance down shows her mouth still wrapped around you which draws the conclusion that she most certainly just used her ice breath on you. 

It’s an odd sensation at first, completely out of left field, but she repeats it. The cold goes away, she warms you up, and the cold comes back. You can feel the goosebumps rising across your skin as you arch up into her.

Kara places one featherlight kiss on your abused nipple before moving to the other. More than anything you wish to thread your fingers into those golden curls and the inability to do so frustrates you.

Growling lowly makes blue eyes flick up to you, a brow quirking in curiosity.

She pulls her mouth from you with a quiet pop,“ getting impatient are we?” Puckering her lips, she blows down on your breast, cold air bursting over your nipple. 

“Please let me touch you.” You beg, for the first time tonight.

Her head tilts, fingers running down your jaw,“ you think you deserve to touch me little one?” You nod frantically. You need to touch her. For a split second she looks like she’ll let you, only to shake her head,“ not yet.” 

With still cold lips, she kisses your neck. Your heated skin clashes with the temperature of her lips and your toes curl with yet another shiver. 

“Kara…” you groan when those kisses press to your hip bones and pelvis. Just a few inches south and she’ll be exactly where you need her to be, where you crave her touch.

Instead of her mouth though, you feel the digits of her fingers run through your folds.“ Oh you’re absolutely soaked baby.” She whispers against your pelvis, breath no longer cold. 

Collecting your juices on her fingers, she trails them up your folds to your clit, light circles drawing around the bundle of nerves. Your hands clench into fists above your head, hips pushing up in search of more friction. If you weren’t experiencing such pleasure you’d frown at how easily she allows you to get it. 

Her fingers press tighter circles into you, loving the occasional throb she feels, before she moves them back down to your entrance. With ease she slips both digits inside of you, dragging them across your walls and expertly curling against that perfect little spot in you. 

You say her name like it’s a prayer and her need to keep hearing it drives her to finally wrap her lips around your clit. However you aren’t expecting her mouth to be cold again. 

“Oh fuck,” you sigh, body unsure whether to run from the sensation or embrace it. Your back arches into the bed, running from it, while your hips jolt up in search of more. 

She swirls her tongue and curls her fingers like she was put on this earth for the sole purpose of pleasing you. Your moans bounce off the walls and Kara knows her neighbors can hear but she doesn’t care one bit, not when silencing you means stopping. You taste like honey and Kara laps at everything you have to offer like it’ll save her.

The coil in your belly wounds tighter and tighter. Kara can feel how close you are, your walls fluttering around her fingers, clit throbbing more with each lick. Just when she feels you about to let go she pulls away. 

“Kara!” You whine, body slumping into the bed dejectedly as frustration runs over you. 

“It’s only what you deserve little one.” A teasing smirk forms on her lips as she bathes in how needy you are for her. She’d love to say this is only part of your punishment but she’d have done it anyway. It’ll be worth it in the end and she knows that, almost better than you do. 

Pushing your legs even further apart, she kneels between them, blue eyes taking in the mess you made of the sheets. Gods if she didn’t already have plans she’d eat you like you were her last meal, cause there’s nothing better than you coming on her tongue. 

“Kara,” the softness of your voice draws her eyes up. Her eyes widen a little at the look in yours, she isn’t sure she’s ever seen it.“ Please fuck me.” You beg for it so sweetly that she couldn’t say no even if she wanted to. Those eyes reveal your need for it even more than mess between your legs does.

Moving up to hover over you, she raises a hand to cup your cheek, and pull you into a kiss. Your lips mold together perfectly. The taste of yourself on her tongue as she slips it into your mouth elicits another moan and your, now free, hands rests on her back, nails lightly scratching the skin there.

The hand on your cheek slips down your body, smoothing over your breast and ribs and then away. Tracing the tip of the dildo through your folds, deliberately running it against your clit, she covers it in your slick, before thrusting into you. 

She gives you a second, a literal second, to adjust before taking you with a brutal speed. The nails on her back dig in harder, nowhere near breaking skin. Your legs wrap around her hips, bringing her closer to you. 

Every moan and gasp that slips from your lips travels straight to her ear and only fuels her ministrations. But she can’t help but feel like it’s not enough. Her head leans down to bury her face into your neck, seconds later she bites and sucks marks into your skin. 

You could feel that flame that had been inside of you, licking every inch of your skin. The toy drags across your walls perfectly and every angled thrust causes it to hit your gspot. 

If she weren’t a kryptonian you’d swear that her superpower was fucking you so perfectly. 

Feeling you close again, Kara snakes a hand between the two of you, fingers wrapping around your throat. She just leaves it there for a moment, the anticipation enough to build you to that perfect point. Just when you arrive, she applies the slightest bit of pressure to the sides of your neck. 

A whimper falls from your lips, so pathetic that if it weren’t Kara causing it embarrassment would’ve killed you. Your eyes screw shut, lip getting trapped between your teeth. With how hard you’re biting it she knows you're fighting hard not to come without permission and you’d already received your punishment. 

“Come for me little one.” She whispers against the shell of your ear. 

Your legs tighten even harder around her and she slows her thrusts. She feels the pressure of your nails on her back increase and it drives her mad. There will never be a sight more beautiful than watching you come undone. 

Her hand unwraps from your throat and you breathe easier, chest heaving from your orgasm and lack of air. 

When she sits back on her calves, still softly rocking into you, the purpose for her trip to the bathroom is revealed. Two vibes seemingly appear in her hand out of thin air. She clicks one on, slipping it behind the harness to no doubt rest against her clit based on the moan she releases, and the other, she sends it to its highest setting and presses it to your swelling clit. 

The instant vibrations makes you throw your head back into the pillows, fingers now clenching the bed sheets as your back arches. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, she sets an even more brutal pace than before. Her hips slam into you at an ungodly speed, going deeper than she had before. 

You know the vibe plus her thrusts are going to send you over the edge long before she does and she’s hoping for it. 

Pressing the vibe even closer to your clit pushes you over. It seems as though your body adopts the vibration of the little toy. Your thighs quiver as you come but she doesn’t stop. 

With the next one, you feel as your juices nearly explode from you, soaking Kara and the bedsheets. A loud cry leaves your lips as your fingers wrap around the wrist of Kara’s hand holding the vibe. 

“Please, I can’t-” breathless words spill from your lips and Kara clicks the vibe off, stilling her hips and removing the vibe away from her own swollen bud. 

Blue eyes search your form as you breathe laboriously. Her hands rest at your hips, gently rubbing from them up to your sides in a soothing manner. 

It takes a long minute for you to finally breathe evenly, your chest now rising and falling in a less concerning way. 

Kara slips the dildo from you, your pussy clenching around nothing at the now empty feeling. She leans down to kiss your thigh,“ you did so well little one,” her lips ghost over your skin,“ look how much you came for me?” Sitting back, she allows you to look down at the large damp spot on the sheets, you felt it on your thighs, but seeing it on hers and the sheets makes you realize just how hard you truly came. 

“Well fuck,” you mumble, head falling back against the pillows,“ this is my favorite set.” Both of you chuckle at the little joke.

Having tossed the toys aside, your girlfriend moves to rest beside you, her elbow allowing her to prop her head on her hand.“ Are you okay?” She asks softly, combing her fingers through your unruly mane. 

You nod, kissing the palm of her hand when it lays against your cheek to back up your words. 

“Okay,” her thumb strokes your cheek,“ I’ll run a bath.”

She rolls out of bed and your head lolls to the other side to watch her naked form head to the bathroom.“ If this is what I get for misbehaving,” your words make her stop at the door, gaze catching yours over her shoulder,“ I might have to do it more often.”

* * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @zhellas 

[spenciebabie]

Would you consider doing a blurb where y/n pegs Spencer-?

“Can you write a thing about Sub!Spencer in a maid dress”

“we have to expand on the grabbing spencer’s booty! like imagine spencer in the kitchen in the morning and then you suprise him by smacking his booty like omg he’s so cute ☺️”

“You give Spencer a belly bulge when you fuck him with a strap”

im really knocking a few out with this one but i feel like they all work together! (sidenote ive got 0 idea if you’re actually able to give someone a bulge with a strap? but let’s pretend)

also! ive got no maid outfit visuals for a man unfortunately but i do have this if you wanna just pretend it’s Spence 👀

— —

It was rare that they had real days off. A whole entire day to themselves where their phones didn’t go off, where they didn’t have to see anyone but each other. So they had to make them count.

When Spencer wakes up in the morning the bed is cold and empty beside him, where she usually is there’s a box instead. It’s neatly wrapped with blush pink paper and a little black bow. He recognizes it and he’s almost hard as a Pavlovian response. She’d gotten him a present. She must’ve been saving it for a day just like this one.

He sits up in the bed and pulls it onto his lap, opening it up to see pretty tissue paper with a little note perched on top.

I’m in the kitchen making breakfast, I’ll need someone to help me clean up. Meet me there when you’re dressed x

He leaves the note on his nightstand and tears into the wrapping, revealing a skimpy little French maid costume. It was a fantasy they’d both talked about but had never actually made happen. He can feel his heart rate pick up at the same time that there’s a rush of blood to his cock.

He probably sets a speed record for how fast he gets changed. Admiring himself in the mirror for a moment before he heads out to the kitchen. She’s sitting at the table, their breakfast all cooked and laid out for him. When she sees him her lips lift up in a smile and her eyes blow wide.

“Baby” she almost gasps, “You look so much better than I even expected” he can’t help but blush. After all this time compliments from her really hit him just as hard as they did in the beginning.

They eat breakfast together, and when it comes time to clean up Spencer gets to work. Taking the plates to the sink, cleaning up from where she’d cooked earlier. She just sits in her chair, admiring the way he moves in the outfit, how when he leans down to place things in the dishwasher she can see his cute little ass peeking out from under the flounced skirt. His pale skin that’s exposed between his panties and his stockings might just be her favorite part of him.

She can’t help herself when she stands up, stealthily coming up behind him to grab his ass with a tight squeeze. He can’t control the little yelp that escapes him at the sudden contact and he can feel the flush creeping up his neck to his face. She removes her hand only to let it come down again in a soft smack, grabbing it with her open palm again.

“I think we can finish up the cleaning later. Watching you is really starting to feel like torture” she moans against his ear, her hand snaking around to his front, gliding up under the hem of his skirt to palm at his cock. He lets a small gasp out.

“Go to the bedroom and wait for me, I can’t go another minute without fucking you” she commands, taking her hands off him then. He misses the touch immidately but he knows it’ll be worth it in the long run. So he races to thier bedroom. Laying himself down to wait for her.

She takes some time to get him ready, laying him down on his stomach and pulling off his panties. Gathering a generous amount of lube on her fingers she pushes them into him. He’s tight around her, but he’s got his face buried in a pillow already, biting down on it to stifle his moans.

“Hey pretty boy, I’m gonna need you to get your face out of those pillows so I can hear those noises” you say, adding another finger, stretching him out slowly. When he doesn’t move you have to bring your other hand up to his head, grabbing his curls roughly and pulling his face up.

He lets out a load moan then at the combined sensations of your fingers inside of him and the ones fisted in his hair. You continue like that for another while, relishing in his noises and the way he squirms beneath you until he seems like he’s ready for more.

“Ready for my strap baby?” You let his head fall back down and he’s nodding gently against the pillows. “That’s not good enough baby, I’m gonna need to hear you say it”

He rolls over onto his back so that you can see him and his perfect flushed face, his lip swollen from where he’s been biting it, a light sheen of sweat coating his forehead.

“Please, I need it” he whines out, looking up at you with those wide eyes.

So you fetch his favorite, putting on the harness nice and snug so you benefit from the friction between your legs too.

When you return to the bed he’s laying back on his stomach, his knees bent beneath him, his ass presented to you.

“No baby” you place a hand on his hip softly, “turn back around, I wanna see that pretty face while I fuck you”

He’s on his back again a second later, it was a slightly more complicated position but it was always worth it.

You work together placing a pillow under his back, pulling his legs up so that they’re up around your hips. You lean down guiding the toy right to his entrance, you’ve got enough lube on it, coupled with the leftover that remained there from your fingers earlier. You’re not met with a lot of resistance as you push in. But you still move slowly, inch by inch.

By the time your strap is buried completely inside of him he’s already a whimpering mess. His cock looks painfully hard, flushed pink and leaking onto his stomach. The skirt of his dress is gathered up around his waist so you’ve got a perfect view.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful” you mutter, the little faces he’s making, the way his eyes screw shut and his lips hang open, filthy moans tumbling from them as you push and and out of him.

Once you work up to a steady rhythm he gets even more vocal, whines and moans that sound like your name escaping him and you push in deeper and deeper on each thrust. His heels digging into your back to keep you close, pulling you in closer each time.

That’s when you spot it, the little bulge that forms in his lower stomach when you’re buried as deep as possible inside of him. You pull out and push right back in again just to see it rise and fall. It looks fucking amazing, you can feel yourself dripping against the harness as it presses up between your legs, absolutely soaking the panties that come between the two.

“Fuck baby, I can see my cock in your stomach” you moan, grabbing one of his hands and placing it on the bulge, fucking up into his palm now.

“You feel that, that’s me so deep inside you. You’re mine, your my pretty boy, you know that?”

His moans are almost completely incoherent now, desperate and a little pathetic almost.

“I’m yours— ah! Fuck! I’m your— uh pretty boy!” He gasps out, harsh breaths and little whines breaking up his sentence. He was close, that much was obvious.

“You’re doing so good for me baby, I want you to cum, can you do that for me?” You say softly, encouraging him. He just nods, his eyes screwing shut, his neck and chest flushed completely.

“Words baby, I need words”

“Please, I’m gonna—” he whimpers as he starts to shake, cumming around your strap, his cock pulsing and cumming in ropes all over his stomach and the skirt of his pretty little maids outfit.

By the time he was done, and you were pulling out slowly he looked exhausted but his eyes gazed up at you with the most adoring dopey grin.

“Did you cum?” He asks, soft and sweet. You shake your head, you hadn’t but it almost didn’t even matter.

“No, but that’s alright, I wanted you to have a nice time” you lay next to him, unfastening the harness and dumping it over the side of the bed. Turning over to look at him he still had those doe eyes trained on you.

“That’s not gonna cut it” he shakes his head, his hand reaching down between your legs, fingers teasing along the crotch of your paintes.

“You’re fucking soaked baby, why don’t you sit up here on my face and let me thank you, huh?”

And how could you refuse that offer.