#like and sub for a drawing if them hugging

[puck-draws]

Plz tell me if this makes any sense

[sysig]

VUXPet (Patreon)

[buckyseternaldoll]

𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲

(i know this gif has no relation to this story and not even sexy, but let's say it's a hint of where i got the inspiration from 😭)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: After sparring leaves Bucky pinned and panting, you discover just how much he craves control being taken from him—how easily he’d fall apart for you, again and again. All he wants now? To worship you from his knees, breathless and bound.

Disclaimer: 18+ (mdni!), explicit smut content, sub!bucky, soft dom!reader, breathplay (m receiving), restraint (hands tied), edging, cockwarming, mirror sex, face riding, praise kink, begging, overstimulation, spit & slick mention, aftercare

Word Count: 5.5k

Author's Note: Another sub!Bucky exploration, not a direct continuation to knife's edge.

You never thought your usual sparring session would end up like this.

Bucky, breathless beneath you.

Begging to be pinned.

It was supposed to be just another late Saturday morning—another round of sweaty training mats and mutual bruises. You and Bucky had a tradition of sparring together. No gear, no audience, just the two of you testing reflexes, trading smirks and smartass remarks between blows.

You’d shown up in your usual getup: a black cropped racerback tank top, clinging just enough to show the line of sweat along your spine. Your thighs were wrapped in dark grey workout shorts, snug at the hips with a skin-tight black compression layer underneath that hugged every curve. Breathable, flexible—meant for movement. Meant to fight.

Bucky was already stretching when you arrived, wearing that damn grey tank top—thin and fitted tight across his chest, the fabric straining slightly at the seams of his shoulders. His vibranium arm caught the light as he moved, and those black sweatpants hung low on his hips like a challenge, soft cotton doing nothing to hide what was underneath.

But there was a silent rule you always followed: you never restrained him.

Not fully. Not with real holds, not with the ones you knew could trigger something. You knew what that feeling could do to him. That cold, metal-locked part of his past that still haunted him some days. So you stayed clear. Always danced around the edge. Kept it safe.

But not today.

Today, he stood in front of you with that look in his eye—the one he gets when he’s about to do something reckless.

“No more soft hits,” he said, breath coming steady. “I want all of it. Full force. No holding back.”

You hesitated, brows drawing together. But then he pushed you—taunted, tested, fighting harder than usual like he wanted to provoke you.

And so, you snapped.

A quick parry. A fake left. You ducked low, legs twisting—and locked your thighs around his neck in one sharp, fluid movement. You hit the mat with him caught between them, back pressed to the floor as your thighs flexed tight around his jaw. The fabric of your shorts shifted against his stubble with every breath he took. You could feel the scrape of it—rough, bristled, a sharp burn of friction against your inner thigh with each shallow exhale. It made the hold feel more intimate, more raw. Like every twitch of his mouth against your skin was confession.You twisted just enough to keep pressure on his neck but not hurt him. Just enough to make him feel the helplessness. The submission.

And god—he squirmed.

Bucky Barnes. Enhanced, lethal, super soldier—struggling beneath someone half his size, his hands gripping your thighs like they were his last anchor.

But then… you felt it.

The shift.

Not in your hold—but in him.

The soft gasp. The tension in his core. And most telling of all—the tent in his sweatpants, unmistakable now, thick and straining against the fabric.

You blinked once. Then again. That was—real. That wasn’t a trick of the light or an accident. He was hard. From this. From you. From your thighs choking him out.

Your pulse kicked, heat rising between your legs so fast it almost scared you.

What the hell did that mean?

Your eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You immediately released him, your thighs unlocking from around his neck as you scrambled backward, breath caught somewhere between surprise and disbelief.

Your own core throbbed with something dangerously close to need. Jesus. You weren’t supposed to be this turned on either.

“You were… turned on?” you said, eyes wide.

Bucky sat up slowly, pushing himself up with one arm and dragging in a shaky breath. “I mean…” he grinned, shoulders rising in a light shrug. “In my defense… that was insanely hot.”

The two of you sat there on the training mat, breathing hard and sweat-slicked—Bucky still in his grey tank top, clinging to his chest, and black sweatpants stretched tightly around the very visible tent in his lap. You sat across from him, legs bent at the knees, your black cropped tank clinging to your ribcage, dark grey shorts riding up slightly from the scuffle, the compression layer beneath hugging every curve. The heat in the room wasn’t just from training anymore.

He looked at you with that crooked smirk—flushed, messed-up hair, lips a little parted.

“Since you’re so freaking dangerously hot,” he said, voice rough, hungry, “you wanna stop and make out for a while?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped past your lips. “I know it won’t be just making out.”

That was all the invitation he needed.

Before you could blink, Bucky lunged forward from his seated position, hands sliding over your waist as he pulled you into his lap, lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that was messy and deep and laced with fire. You felt his fingers dig into the waistband of your shorts like he needed to feel your skin underneath, like he wanted to pull you into his body and never let go.

But you were quick—quicker than he expected.

Instead of letting him take the lead, you shifted in his lap and slowly traced your palm up the curve of his throat. You kissed him again—once, softer—then broke it, letting your lips trail downward.

Hot, wet kisses down his jaw.

Along the side of his neck.

You lingered there, bit down lightly until he gasped, hips twitching under you.

Your fingers pressed firm under his jaw, thumb settling over his pulse.

You squeezed—not tight, but enough to control his next breath. Enough to make his pupils blow wide, mouth part in a gasp.

The little sound he made? Guttural. Like his soul left his body and came crawling to your feet.

A soft, broken whimper spilled from his lips as his eyes fluttered open, blown wide and dark. His hands stayed on your waist, but he didn’t fight you. Didn’t move. Just let you hold him like that.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, easing your grip, watching his pupils dilate. “You really like that, don’t you?”

He was panting now, sweat rolling down the line of his throat.

“I think I found God,” he rasped. “And she’s sitting on my lap in tight shorts and telling me what to do.”

You laughed, releasing his throat, and watched how he sagged slightly—boneless beneath you, like just your hand alone had melted his brain. The tent in his pants was aching now, nearly damp with how hard he was.

“You’re a mess already,” you teased, dragging your fingers along the waistband of his sweats. “That hard just from a little pressure?”

“Fuck, yes,” he moaned. “I want more. Please. Do it again—tie me down, ride me, I don’t care. Just don’t stop leading, baby. Don’t stop.”

His hips bucked lightly, almost involuntarily.

“I’ll be good. Just tell me how you want me.”

You tilted your head, studying the way he trembled beneath you.

“If we do this, I’m in charge.”

“God, yes,” he groaned. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

Your lips curled slowly, dangerously.

You leaned in close, lips just by his ear. “Good boy.”

His whole body shuddered like you’d short-circuited something in his spine.

—

Still beneath you, Bucky was panting—his chest rising fast, eyes fluttering. His breath caught in his throat like it didn’t know whether to come out as a moan or a prayer. You didn’t even have to squeeze again. The memory of your hand, of being caught between your thighs… it lingered in his body like want.

Your fingers dragged down his chest, nails lightly scraping over the damp grey fabric of his tank top. You felt the way his abs tensed beneath it—hard muscle twitching, struggling to stay still. He liked this. Not just the contact. The helplessness. The rush of blood and denial of air. The flutter of lightheadedness that made him feel pinned in more ways than just physically.

“Take this off,” you said, voice low but firm.

Not a suggestion.

He obeyed immediately—yanking the tank over his head with a grunt, breath shaky as he tossed it aside. You pushed him gently onto his back again, straddling him. His chest was bare now, sweat beading down the line of his collarbone, rising and falling in shallow bursts. Still catching up from earlier. Still winded. Still needing.

You kissed his jaw, then leaned in to whisper.

“How’s your breathing, baby?”

“Fast,” he rasped.

“You like that?”

“God, yeah.”

You brushed a finger under his chin.

“Then let’s play with that.”

He groaned—already pliant.

You leaned to the side, reaching toward the pile of your gear at the edge of the mat. It was normal. You always brought towels and robes to shower after training. But today, your fingers curled around the soft cotton belt hanging from your robe—and it wasn’t going anywhere near your waist.

You shifted back over him, lips brushing his ear again.

“Hands behind your head.”

He laced his fingers together as instructed, arms flexing above his head. You wrapped the belt around his wrists—not tight, not enough to hurt, but firm enough to hold. Firm enough to remind him that he couldn’t move unless you let him.

You pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat. Felt the way his pulse jumped under your lips.

“You’re not going anywhere,” you murmured. “Not until I’ve bled every breath from your lungs.”

A sharp inhale. A groan. His cock twitched beneath you.

Your fingers slid down his chest, over the glistening trail of sweat beneath his pecs. You traced the V of his abs until you reached the waistband of his pants—and dipped your hand in.

Just your fingertips.

Just enough to tease the hot, throbbing length of him.

He gasped.

You wrapped your hand around him fully, stroking once—slow and tight, squeezing just enough to make him bite back a sound. Then again. Then harder.

“Fuck—” he hissed.

“You gonna come already?” you whispered. “That easy, baby?”

“N-No—”

“Didn’t think so.”

You dragged your hand out of his sweats and then—slowly, deliberately—peeled them down. His hips twitched, lifting just enough to help you. You tugged the fabric past his thighs and off completely, letting them fall somewhere on the mat behind you.

His cock sprang free—thick, flushed, leaking at the tip. Vulnerable. Needy.

You hummed in approval.

“There’s my good boy,” you whispered, wrapping your hand around him again. “So fucking eager to be used.”

You tightened your grip a fraction more. Your hand moved so slowly it was like punishment—each stroke heavy and torturously controlled. His cock twitched, leaking over your knuckles.

Then you stopped.

He let out a low, strangled whine.

“Tsk,” you murmured, brushing your lips across his ear. “You’re dripping like a slut and I’ve barely touched you. Naughty, naughty boy.”

You climbed off his lap slowly, heat dragging over his cock as you moved. He was breathless now, sweat shining down his abs, muscles tense under the strain of self-control. His hands twitched above his head—tied, compliant, wrecked.

You stood, peeled down your shorts and leggings together, slow and sensual, revealing inch by inch of bare skin. Then your panties—completely soaked. Translucent with arousal.

He groaned at the sight.

“Open.”

He obeyed. Of course he did.

You shoved the soaked panties into his mouth, holding them there with a slow, deliberate hand on his jaw.

“You don’t need your mouth to beg anymore,” you murmured. “Your cock does all the talking.”

You knelt again, nudging his legs wider.

Then licked a stripe up the underside of his cock—slow, firm, possessive.

His whole body twitched.

“God, you taste desperate,” you growled. “Every drop of you says please, mistress, use me.”

You climbed back onto his lap, deliberately grinding your slick cunt along his shaft, letting it slide through your folds. He bucked beneath you—barely—his hips stuttering with need.

But your hand shot to his throat.

You didn’t choke. Not fully. But your fingers pressed gently at the sides, just enough to hold him still, to remind him what you owned.

His moan was muffled around your panties, his eyes nearly rolling back.

You squeezed just a little more, then released.

“You don’t come until I say so,” you whispered. “Or I’ll tie your cock up instead and make you watch me come without ever letting you feel it.”

He whimpered. Squirmed. His cock throbbed beneath you.

You leaned back, letting your slick folds rub over him again, never letting him inside. Then you stopped. Watched his face twitch with denial.

“Beg,” you said. “Beg me to use you.”

He groaned around the panties, words distorted—but you heard it anyway.

“Mmm—mmph—use me—please—ride me—please—”

You yanked the panties from his mouth and tossed them aside.

“Tell me who owns this cock.”

“You. Fuck—you, baby—it’s yours, all yours—”

“You’ll wait.”

“Please—”

You finally sank down on him—slow. Inch by inch. His cock stretched you open so perfectly it stole your breath, and his back arched, every muscle flexing like you’d lit him on fire.

You bottomed out and held him there.

No motion.

Just heat.

Just breathlessness.

“You’ll sit there and take it,” you whispered, tightening your thighs around his hips. “You’ll let me ride you when I’m ready. And when I say come…”

You leaned closer.

“You better fall apart for me.”

—

His whole body shuddered like you’d short-circuited something in his spine.

Still beneath you, Bucky was panting—chest rising fast, lips parted. His breath caught in his throat like it didn’t know whether to come out as a moan or a prayer. You didn’t even have to squeeze him again. The memory of your thighs around his neck lingered in his body like electricity, like want.

You trailed your fingers down his sweat-slick chest, nails lightly dragging across bare skin, and felt how his abs tensed beneath it—coiled, twitching, like he was aching for more. Not just for touch—but for restraint. For that strange, dizzy, breathless sensation he wasn’t supposed to like. But craved anyway.

“You breathing okay, baby?” you murmured, voice low against his throat.

“Fast,” he rasped. “But so good.”

“Good,” you purred. “Let’s play with that.”

You crawled higher over him again—knees planting on either side of his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair to keep him still.

“You’re gonna stay right here,” you whispered, “while I put you back where you clearly want to be.”

You locked your thighs around his head—just like before—but this time, you were bare.

Your soaked cunt hovered just above his parted lips, flushed and dripping. Bucky’s eyes were already glassy as he looked up at you, chest rising faster beneath you.

You lowered yourself slowly, carefully, until your folds just barely dragged across his mouth.

Moan.

The sound that escaped him was pure sin—low, muffled, vibrating into your cunt. Slick smeared across his lips and chin as you rolled forward slightly, letting a single drop fall into his mouth. His tongue twitched.

You immediately stopped.

And smiled.

“Did I say you could taste?”

He whimpered beneath you, the sound desperate, pleading. You lifted your hips an inch and slapped the inside of his thigh—sharp, quick, close to his balls.

He gasped, hips jerking—but not from pain. No. That twitch was hunger. He liked it.

“Naughty,” you tsked, letting your voice fall into something calm and deadly sweet. “Trying to sneak a lick?”

You rewarded him with another slow grind—slick folds dragging wetly across his mouth and stubble. His face was slick with you now. His nose pressed right into your clit. He was gasping, lips open, unable to taste fully, unable to move.

Still under your control.

Still breathless.

Still starving.

“Look at you,” you murmured, tightening your grip in his hair. “Completely ruined. And I haven’t even let you come. Haven’t even let you taste.”

He whimpered again. You ground down, just once, slow and steady, enough to smear even more slick over his skin.

Then pulled away again.

He groaned helplessly, tongue wet and eager—but you gave him nothing.

“You don’t get to steal,” you said. “You want something?”

You dragged one finger through your folds, soaked and swollen, then tapped it gently against his lips.

“You ask.”

He moaned as your slick touched his tongue. His cock twitched, aching against his stomach.

“You want to taste me, soldier?”

“Yes—fuck, please—please, baby—I need it—I’ll be good—let me—please—”

You grabbed his hair again, holding him steady.

“No licking. No sucking. You just lie there,” you whispered, voice thick and slow. “And take it like the good little pillow prince you are.”

Then you ground down again.

This time slowly. Relentlessly.

You fucked his face in slow, teasing drags of your hips—your thighs flexing around his head, your slick dripping into his mouth with every pass. His tongue wasn’t allowed to move. You made sure of it.

He whimpered every time you pulled away. Every breath was shallow now. His lungs worked harder. His cock throbbed untouched.

“You like this?” you asked. “Being trapped between my thighs? Breathing in nothing but pussy?”

He twitched.

“So close to heaven,” you whispered, “and still not allowed to worship it.”

He tried to sneak a lick again.

You pulled away.

“I said still.”

He froze.

Didn’t twitch this time.

“Good boy.”

You hovered above him, thighs caging his flushed face, until you finally—finally—whispered low and molten:

“You’ve been good.”

“Please,” he rasped. “Please let me—I’ll be so good—need to taste you—”

You smiled.

And this time, when you sank down fully, there was no resistance. No teasing.

Just reward.

“Then go ahead,” you whispered. “Lick me. Show me what that perfect mouth can do.”

And god, he did.

Bucky groaned into you like your taste had saved him. His hands stayed where you left them—bound, obedient. He didn’t grab you. Didn’t flip you over. He obeyed.

His tongue moved with skill and reverence—flicking and curling, pressing deeper, desperate to make you come. The heat of his mouth was overwhelming, but it was the coarse scrape of his stubble that lit your nerves on fire.

The contrast—soft tongue, rough jawline—sent sparks straight through you.

Every drag of his mouth felt like being scorched and soothed all at once. His nose bumped your clit just right as your hips moved, slick covering his face. The more you rode, the deeper he moaned.

Your thighs were trembling now.

“Fuck—Bucky—just like that—don’t stop—”

You came hard—shaking, grinding into his mouth as your orgasm tore through you, your muscles clenching, your thighs squeezing tight around his head. You didn’t hold back. You gave him all of it. Your cries. Your slick. Your whole body.

When you came down, breathless and glowing, you rocked your hips back slightly, letting him breathe again. His face was soaked, lips swollen. His stubble was wet, glistening with you.

You looked down at him, completely wrecked, and laughed softly.

“Goddamn,” you breathed, brushing sweat-damp hair from your temple. “You really just let me do that to you…”

You leaned down, voice soft but teasing against his ear:

“Can’t believe you’re letting me stay in control today.”

Bucky—flat on his back, cock untouched, face drenched in you—smiled, dazed and devoted.

“For you?” he rasped. “I could take this for eternity.”

—

You shifted off his face slowly, dragging your soaked heat across his mouth one last time before settling beside him on the mat. Your thighs were still trembling. Chest still rising and falling. The scent of sex clung to the air.

Bucky didn’t move.

Face glistening. Cock flushed, twitching against his abs. Wrecked didn’t even begin to describe him.

You reached out, brushed the damp strands of hair off his forehead. His eyes fluttered open—barely.

“You’re such a good boy,” you whispered, letting the words sink into his ruined, obedient brain. “So good I might get addicted to you like this.”

His cock jerked. Hard.

You smirked.

“Come on,” you murmured, brushing your fingers down the center of his sweat-slick chest. “Let’s take this somewhere we can really see the damage.”

You reached for the tie and undid the knot slowly, trailing kisses down his chest as you helped him up.

He followed without question, still breathless, still dazed. You led him to the long padded bench near the mirrored wall of the sparring room—intended for cooldowns, but this afternoon? It was a throne. A stage. A place to be displayed.

“Sit back,” you said. “Arms behind you.”

He obeyed, dropping onto the bench. Shoulders against the angled padding. Legs spread. Cock hard, flushed, slicked with precum and the ghost of your mouth. His chest rose and fell in shallow gasps as he positioned his wrists at the small of his back.

You reached for the same robe belt you’d used before and tied him off again—firm this time, low at his spine. A handcuffed restraint.

“You’re not grabbing me unless I say so,” you reminded, voice low against his ear.

“I know,” he panted. “I won’t. Promise.”

You climbed onto his lap—reverse—your back to his chest, your thighs straddling his, both of your bodies now reflected in the full-length mirror ahead.

You spread your legs a little wider. Let your soaked cunt hover just above his cock.

“Look,” you whispered. “Look at how fucked out you are. Face still wet from me.”

He moaned—soft, overwhelmed—and you reached between your legs to stroke his cock, teasing the flushed head through your folds.

“Please,” he whispered, broken already. “Please ride me.”

You paused. Let your cunt hover, slick just barely kissing the tip of him.

“You want to feel useful again?” you asked. “Wanna be good for me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathed.

You turned your head slightly, catching the way his cheeks flushed deeper at the title.

“I remember how quiet you were with my panties shoved in your mouth,” you murmured. “All that strength, and you still let me silence you.”

A whimper escaped him—high, needful.

“I still have them, you know,” you added, reaching to the side where you’d carelessly tossed them earlier. They were crumpled now. Damp. Twisted and glistening from your slick.

You looked at him through the mirror.

“Open.”

He obeyed.

You shoved them back into his mouth—slow, sensual, like you were crowning him in devotion. The cotton disappeared between his lips.

“Now you can be good and quiet for me again.”

You finally sank down onto him.

Slow.

Tight.

Deliberate.

His cock filled you perfectly, forcing a moan from your throat as you seated yourself fully in his lap. Your reflection said it all—your spine arched, your slick glistening around the base of his cock, your thighs trembling slightly from overstimulation, and him?

Head tipped back. Arms straining behind him. Panties in his mouth. And his eyes locked on your body like he couldn’t look away if he tried.

You stayed still. Just like before.

“You want me to ride you, soldier?” you asked, voice honeyed. “Want me to use your cock like the good little fucktoy you are?”

He groaned behind the soaked fabric.

But then—you felt it.

His hips twitching, restrained. The slight pull at the knot behind his back. He was trembling again.

You turned your head just enough to look at him over your shoulder.

He was trying to speak.

So you tugged the panties gently out of his mouth, slick with spit and heat.

“Say it,” you murmured.

His voice cracked.

“Did I—did I do good?” he asked, almost whispering. “Please… I need to hear it. Need to know I was good for you. That I made you feel good. Please, ma’am.”

Oh, fuck.

Your cunt clenched tight around him. The desperation in his voice. The vulnerability. The fact that this super soldier—this goddamn wall of a man—was begging for praise from the woman who just rode his face into ruin.

You leaned back against his chest, fingers cradling his jaw gently as you made him look at the mirror.

“Look at you,” you whispered. “Face still covered in me. Body tied down. Cock aching. All because you let me have every inch of you.”

He moaned—soft, shattered.

“You were perfect, baby,” you said, hips starting to rock again, slow and firm. “You made me feel so fucking good. Let me take what I needed. You stayed right where I told you. You didn’t even try to flip us.”

His breath hitched.

“You’re such a good boy, James. You ruin me.”

A deep, trembling sound left his chest—almost a sob of relief.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, ma’am.”

And you smiled—because he meant it.

You started to ride in earnest now—hips moving smooth and slow, your slick pulling wet sounds from where your bodies met. His cock pulsed deeper inside you with every grind, and his voice was wrecked when he breathed:

“God, you look so good. So perfect taking me like this—please don’t stop—please use me—”

You locked eyes in the mirror.

“Keep talking, baby,” you whispered. “You praise me, I’ll keep fucking you.”

—

His breath stuttered behind you, chest heaving like his lungs were working overtime just to keep up. Your soaked cunt gripped him so tight, pulsing around every inch of his cock—and he couldn’t stop twitching inside you.

But you didn’t move.

You just sat there—perched on him like a throne—making him look in the mirror. Making him see you. The way your curves framed his lap. How your spine arched in perfect, devastating rhythm. The slick dripping down his thighs. His cock, buried so deep in your cunt it was obscene.

“I said,” you repeated, calm and low, “worship me.”

He whimpered. Actually whimpered.

Then swallowed hard, voice cracking.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he rasped. “Look at you. Look how good you look on me, baby. I’ve never—never seen anything like it.”

“I love when you ride me. I love how you hold me down, like I’m yours. I love—fuck—I love how strong you are. How you make me feel like I’m nothing but yours to play with.”

“I never thought I’d like being restrained again. Thought it’d fuck me up forever. But this—” his breath shuddered again, eyes flicking to where your cunt was stretched around his cock. “You’ve ruined me for anyone else. I want it to be you. Always. Want to come for you, please—just you.”

You clenched around him.

Hard.

“That’s more like it,” you murmured. “Now shut up and take it.”

And then you moved.

You started slow—rolling your hips in wide, deliberate circles, letting every inch of your pussy stroke over his cock like velvet. The wet sounds echoed off the mirror. His head dropped back with a strangled groan, fists clenching behind him against the tie.

“You watching, baby?” you teased, grinding down harder. “See how pretty I look? Bouncing on your cock like it belongs to me?”

“Fuck—yes—ma’am,” he choked. “You’re so fucking gorgeous—I can’t—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” you snapped, slamming down harder. “You’ll take it like the good boy you are.”

Your rhythm sharpened—pace fast and punishing now, wet skin slapping loud against muscle as you bounced in his lap. His cock drove deep, again and again, dragging moans from both of you.

He pulled tight against the restraints—but didn’t fight them.

Didn’t even try.

You reached back, grabbed a fistful of his damp hair, and yanked his head upright.

“Eyes on me,” you growled. “Watch how I break you.”

He whimpered like it hurt to obey—and kept his eyes wide, locked on the mirror.

You fucked him harder.

Riding. Grinding. Letting your ass smack into his thighs with every thrust. His cock hit that perfect spot again and again, your own climax building fast as your slick poured down both of you.

“Please,” he gasped. “Please let me come—I can’t—I’m so close, I can’t hold it—baby, please—”

“Beg for it.”

“Please,” he sobbed. “Let me fill you—please let me come in your pussy—I need to—need to come inside you—fuck, I’ll be so good, just let me—please—”

You slammed down one final time and froze.

“Now.”

His scream tore out of him like a live wire. His body seized, twitching beneath you as his cock jerked and pulsed, thick spurts of cum filling you deep, so deep, like he’d been saving it for hours. His back arched, legs trembling under your thighs. He was shaking—completely fucked out.

And you were right behind him.

“Fuck—fuck—Bucky—” you moaned, body collapsing forward slightly as your own orgasm hit hard. Your cunt squeezed him so tight you felt every last pulse of him. Your vision blurred, hips trembling through the waves of pleasure until you collapsed against his chest, both of you breathless.

You stayed like that.

Panting.

Your heat still wrapped tight around his cock.

His forehead pressed against your back. Hair damp. Breathing ragged.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered hoarsely. “You… you ruined me.”

You turned your head, kissed the corner of his jaw, and smirked.p

“You begged me to.”

He let out a soft, delirious laugh.

“I did. I’d do it again. You—” his breath caught. “You made me feel so fucking safe.”

You reached behind, loosening the tie at his wrists gently, brushing his forearms as they slowly relaxed from the strain.

“You were perfect, baby,” you whispered. “Obedient. Beautiful. Ruined just the way I like you.”

His lips pressed to your shoulder, soft and warm. Then a quiet, cheeky hum.

“You think next time,” he murmured, “you’ll stuff those panties back in my mouth and fuck me even harder?”

You laughed, breathless.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you purred, glancing at your soaked reflection in the mirror.

“You haven’t seen hard yet.”

—

Your breath was still slowing as you leaned backward, fingers working gently at the robe tie knotted around Bucky’s wrists. The fabric had left soft red lines against his skin—proof of how tightly he’d held back for you.

He let his arms drop with a groan, slumping back like every muscle had given out.

You slipped off his lap, stretching your thighs with a quiet hiss, and bent to kiss the side of his head.

“Still breathing?”

“Barely,” he rasped. His voice was cracked, all gravel. “Pretty sure you broke my spine in five places.”

You grinned. “But did you die?”

That made him laugh—a soft, ruined sound that cracked open into something real and warm. His head lolled back against the bench, sweat dampening the strands of hair clinging to his neck. His chest rose and fell in slow waves. His cock, spent and glossy, gave a lazy twitch between his legs.

“I can’t believe I liked that,” he muttered to no one in particular. “All of it. Being tied up. Letting you do whatever you wanted. Being used.”

You turned your head, eyes soft.

“You didn’t just like it, Buck. You begged for it.”

A lazy smirk crept onto his lips. “Can you blame me?”

You leaned down and kissed him again—this time slower. Gentle. A kiss that tasted like sweat, slick, and trust. Your fingers found his jaw, tracing along the rough edge of his stubble, then drifted down to cup his throat—not tight, just resting there, tender.

“After everything you’ve been through,” you whispered against his lips, “you deserve to feel safe in someone’s hands.”

You kissed his neck.

“And baby… these hands?”

Another kiss, this one just below his ear.

“These hands made you come so hard, I think you blacked out.”

He groaned and threw both hands over his face like he was trying to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. But he was smiling. Laughing, even.

“You’re the greatest damn thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I know,” you teased, nudging his thigh with your knee. “And now your slutty little cock knows it too.”

“Jesus Christ,” he wheezed.

“Say thank you.”

He peeked out from behind his hands, eyes sparkling, then grinned like a man who’d just sold his soul and had zero regrets.

“Thank you, my queen,” he said solemnly. “May your thighs crush me again sometime soon.”

You snorted, climbing up onto the bench and curling beside him. The two of you lay there tangled in sweat and afterglow, your head on his shoulder, his arm lazily wrapping around your back.

The silence was warm.

The stillness earned.

And then he murmured, lips brushing your hair:

“For the record? You can ruin me like that anytime.”

You smiled, eyes fluttering closed.

“I plan to.”

[orphicsun]

Hear me out succubus!reader x sub!ellie

warnings: succubus!reader + sub!ellie, slight mentions of inhuman body traits (tongue, claws for nails), tribbing, oral sex (e! receiving)

Ellie knows it's wrong. It's wrong physically, mentally, morally, spiritually. It's wrong in all the ways that count. The predicament she has found herself in is downright terrifying, and it should make her feel similar to how someone must feel surrounded by great, thick patches of forest in the middle of the night with nothing but a dead flashlight and prayers. She should feel each bit of hair raise in the same direction the follicle it protrudes from, and part of her cannot deny the sinister feeling of summoning something so beyond fucked.

But you've got such a grip on her, it's a helpless cause to hope that she can ever feel normal again.

It's easily the third time this week, but she needs it. The craving feels so easy, naturally attained as water soothing the body's thirst. It makes her feel extreme and she finds herself sliding one, two, three fingers into her graciously wet hole, only to whimper helplessly on the brink of an orgasm she will never reach without your help.

It's tragic, really. Walking down the aisle to the love of her life someday, and yet on their honeymoon some place far away, a hotel and soft silk sheets with a poor girl who isn't aware of the ritual a once bored 19 year old Ellie did, Ellie will be stuck in a loop. She'll never be able to cum, no matter how hard she tries. Not to her own touch, not to her wife's, and you'll be long gone by then.

It's a fate she chose for herself, really. She signed the terms and conditions agreement.

But for now, you appear when she feels the need to be stuffed and stretched rise up below her waist.

"You said you'd try to hold out longer," you greet her directly into her ear, deceivingly honey-soft laughter bellowing from your chest. It never gets old, because Ellie jolts, looking around until she finds you in her room. She isn't used to this—a demon available to her whenever she even feels the least bit horny. Not that she is complaining.

"Yeah, well, I guess I've changed my mind." You don't stop to take her in, the boy shorts that hug her hips in a cotton embrace a sight gone to waste as you immediately peel them off of her wanton body. The t-shirt is soon to follow, and Ellie doesn't need to be told to lay down nice and comfortable only to be wrecked beyond comprehension by you.

You're already naked, always are. You're impatient and all of the above, and she doesn't complain. She is ridiculously horny, and unlike you, she doesn't have all the time in the world.

You encourage her legs to part and receive no backlash; then, you find your hips fit snug between them, the fat in the back of her thighs cushioning you like a perfect fit.

Ellie knows this isn't what sex should be, never as perfect as the kind you supply and yet so painful. It reminds her of ballet, in a twisted sense. It's painful and leaves her body and soul weary, but she doesn't take the time to recover, kin to the exhaustion of the dancer whose years of cracked soles amount to an art so refined in the process, it's nearly worth it all. For a ballerina, she thinks it is worth it all. She isn't so sure with you.

She is addicted to the art of being your prey, regardless.

But she needs it like a dosage of her favorite drug, and she lets her hands greedily roam the smooth expanse of your back, drawing patterns over your shoulder blades. She takes all she can get when she is beneath you.

"I can smell how horny you are from miles away, you know." Your tongue is filthy against her neck, each stroke you draw against her jugular sending dopamine through her veins and straight down to her beating clit.

"Please," she murmurs needily, shuddering when one of your leg hitch over hers, feeling your clit easily slide against hers. "Fuck, like that, please. Just like that."

"Good girl, aren't you? Just take it." Your hips rock against hers in a familiar rhythm, just how Ellie likes it. Beneath you, the girl is a babbling mess, whining about how good you fuck her. She is delirious, so much so that she grabs your hips to keep you firmly on her lap as she grinds up against you. It's not enough and somehow too much all the same.

"Fuck, can you please just eat me out?" Ellie blurts out between her panting.

"Aw, getting selfish now?" You coo condescendingly, leaning down to shove your tongue into her mouth. She moans around it and sucks on it, feeling your spit-tanged lips slot against hers in a mockery of a loving kiss. She'll accept it, though. She'll love it.

You break the kiss to lick down her body, pausing on your favorite places. You have sex with her for selfish purposes yourself, none of them really being out of lust, but you still have appreciation for her tits and won't miss the chance to take one into your mouth, attaching your lips to her nipple so you can swirl your tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Stop teasing," Ellie grits through her teeth, voice strained and yet the desperate lilt rises even higher when you giggle against her navel, your path clear.

As if she wasn't soaked enough, you spit on her clit, watching as the saliva rushes down her folds and past her perineum. She moans at the feeling. Your saliva is always oddly cooler than it should be, and as soon as you poke your tongue into her hole just barely, the hot muscle a sensory contrast, her pillow is greeted by the back of her head, her neck raised like an arch in overwhelming pleasure.

You always like to make it painful too, so much so that she craves it when you dig your clawed nails into her thighs as you spread them impossibly apart, and in more extreme cases, she begs you to wrap your fingers around her throat and take her breath from her lungs as she cums all over your free hand or pussy.

Before, it was teasing and had her desperate for more. However, the direct stimulation now has her nearly doubling back in overstimulation before her orgasm. You hold her to her words, though. Your tongue clits against her clit, and your tongue feels unlike any human one, roughly textured. You work against her pussy as if you have found a door into her mind and know just how she imagines her pleasure, drawing it out on her body before she can even begin to describe it to you.

When her orgasm crashes over her, your grip on her thighs shifts up to her hips, pinning her quivering body to the bed. Cries of pleasure tear from her throat so loud the neighbor could hear if he were home. Thank Goddess for the community pool he frequents daily in his speedo, because he won't be hearing his neighbor get her pussy eaten by the succubus she made the mistake of summoning.

It's not art, but you look down at her as if she is—her heaving chest, nipples and both lips coated in your spit, pussy leaking down onto the sheets, clit engorged and red, and scratches marks littering her thighs. It's sends power through you just to see the state you've left her from.

But like always, you're gone before she can even think of uttering a reaction. You stay for the feeding, and you've given her her end of the deal.

Ellie is beginning to think of this as a mistake she cannot undo, however.

taglist: @femme-tobe, @sulliefimmie, @klallx, @elliescoochieeater, @mytaping, @pryncess123, @therealhexstrap, @piercedome, @violetszn, @saturnhas82moons, @myfabulousnesshasarrived, @sawaagyapong, @prettyinpink69, @usuck, @s7nburn, @hellokittyfeenie, @ssijht, @starberr1, @ruevu, @ruelezz, @littlefallenangel111, @prwttiestbunny, @eriiwaiii2, @starrycherie, @human-cacti, @tphmnv, @hotpinkskitties, @mars4hellokitty, @jhyoos, @elliesngirl, @moonfloweredprincess, @morticeras, @l0veylace, @abbysmeatrider, @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @frillynpinkprincess, @plasticl0v3r, @g4ys0n, @bewareofmyglock, @witzs,@vixxxen, @aceywaycy, @abbysbutch, @evoscancelled, @x0x0xkimara, @aviixol, @mysexy-anxiety want to be tagged? click here!

a/n: yeah idk how to feel about this but i'm trying to fully get over my burnout and this is a step!!

[ang3ltine]

𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐬 ꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ - 𝖿𝗍 𝖲𝖾 𝗆𝗂 𝗑 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 (18+) MDNI!!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you were getting ready to meet up with friends who you've missed so much and haven't see them in a while, Se mi on the other hand became a little jealous.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, dirty talk, fingering , mean dom! Se mi, slightly bratty sub!freader and implications of angst

" You're the worst "

You were a breathless mess, with mascara stained tears streaking down your rosy cheeks. The pretty little lace dress was stripped from your body and was thrown next to your vanity.

"Oh...? Trust me sweet thing , we're only just getting started "

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

It was around 7am in the morning as you started getting ready for an important date with your friends.

Lotte World usually has a long line soon after opening , so you guys decided to arrive there early by 9 am sharp.

You hadn't seen them for a while, so you were pretty excited. Today, you picked out a white lace dress with a layered skirt and puffed long sleeves with cuffs. It had a corset like design, and you paired the dress with thigh-high socks with trimmed lace and pale lavender ballerina sneakers.

"Hm? Why're you getting dolled up so early in the morning?" a pair of arms hugged your waist, the voice hoarse from sleeping. Se mi rests her chin atop your shoulder. She had messy bedhair that fell over her eyes, as she watched you intently while you applied the final step to your makeup.

Your sugary pink lipgloss that smells of Strawberries and Vanilla.

"Oh uhh well I'm going out with some friends today. I thought you already knew?", Se mi hummed to yourself as she thinks back to yesterday.

"Nope," giving an emphasis on the p, "I thought we we're gonna sleep in today...".

"I'm sorry Se mi but I really miss hanging out with my friends, I haven't seen them in so long," you say gently while you turn around to cup her cheeks and gingerly kiss her lips.

The kiss awakened something within her and she wanted to taste more.

"Can't you cancel and go another day?", the finger that was tracing the shape of your hip came up to swipe at your bottom lip.

"There's no reason for you to not spend time with me right now..", her voice going an octave deeper and you can see the pools in her eyes darkened with desire.

She had already reached for the back of your dress,undoing the neatly tied bows. You swiftly caught hold of her hands before she could fully take it off.

"Look babe, I'm really not in the mood for your jealousy act right now. I can't just cancel my plans just because you wanna satisfied your needs."

You had no intentios of snapping at her but before you could apologise, she hauls you over her shoulder and plops you down onto your shared bed. Making you sink into the plush pillows beneath you.

"Shit, please, I didn't mean to-" , Se mi shuts you up by locking her lips with yours. Nibbling on your bottom lip, making you whine. Almost drawing out some blood.

She carefully hikes the hem of the skirt up, revealing your dainty pink underwear.

"Oh? What do we have here..?", she drawls as her slender fingers crept over your throbbing cunt. You're not sure when it happened but you only grew more wet just by her painfully hot touch.

She gathers your slick, making it act as lube as she glides over your clit. You tried closing your legs cause you didn't want her to win so easily.

But she was too quick and pried them open and then reached for you phone from the dresser.

" You can't seriously be cancelling my plans just because you're horny are you??", you managed to breathe out as she types with one hand and skillfully undresses you with the other.

" I can and I will," she simply states after sending the message with a ping.

At this point you were oozing of annoyance as you tried covering yourself. There was no way you were gonna let her have you after ruining your planned day out.

"Aww is the princess upset? I'm sorry your highness but nows not the time to be pouty", Se mi mused while trying to get you to look at her. Refusing to look at her.

" Hey I'll make it up to you ok? Just work with me here" Just barely giving in you gave her a 'get on with it' look. Honestly it turned her on seeing you so mad.

Only making her want to ruin you even more.

Slipping past your underwear she teasingly ghosts the hole of your cunt, making you shiver with anticipation. Deep down you want this. You wanted her.

She smirked as she noticed your facial expression contour into pleasure and finally stuck her index finger inside. Deep enough for an audible squelch to echo in your bedroom.

You mewl as she groans at the feeling of your walls squeeze around her, hitting the spongy part just right that makes you go absolutely insane.

"Not so poised now are you?", she snickers while you roll your eyes at her comment. You grab the hem of her shirt and pull her into a seering hot kiss. You couldn't let her have all the fun.

Tugging at the ends you asked for permission to take it off. She tuts and guides your hand towards the nape of your neck.

"Uh I don't think so. A spoilt little brat like you doesn't deserve to be rewarded..", her voice going an octave deeper as she only became more amused at your reaction.

God you hated her.

An hour into the session, she has you in her lap as you lay your head on her shoulder. Already becoming exhausted from the constant thrusting from Se mi's slender fingers.

"Fuck", Se mi hissed as the grip on your hip tightened. Almost certainly leaving a bruise mark on your supple skin.

"Do that for me again love", you didn't have time to react as she pulls out tantalisingly slow and eagerly shoves it back in.

You keen, long and guttural as she continues hitting at your g-spot. Your pelvis unkowngly bucks into her hand, wanting more than you could take.

Se mi nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving a series of dark hickeys all over down your bare chest. Your nipples perked as she has one mound in her mouth and the other between her unoccupied fingers.

After a while she let's go with a pop and grabs your ass making you rise up and slam back down on her fingers. You cried out and instinctively reach up and tangled your fingers in her raven hair

"I" slam "Still hate you", you sneer slightly despite being in a euphoric state.

"Oh, rude aren't we?" She snickered as your breath caught in your throat, you would've retorted had she not stuck another finger in. Twisting and going deeper than before to make you more dumbed out.

A dirty cheater for sure.

"Ugh...!! I-- did you have to ruin my dress too-?", you managed to hiss out while you peered down at the smug women beneath you.

You were an absolute mess, mascara stained tears ran down your cheeks. The curls of your hair unravelled and cascaded down your shoulders and your perfect pink lips, swollen and slightly bleeding.

"Don't worry babe, I'll buy you a new one", she cooes while she moves a stray strand of hair away from your face.

It was one thing to fuck a pretty girl, but another thing to have a partner so smart yet bossy as you, being desperate for her to ruin your cunt.

"Shit babe!! Right there--!"

She had you fucking on her fingers for so long you couldn't even check the time on the clock, your vision blurred from your tears. At last you finally burst, unleashing a wave.

Helping you ride through your orgasm until the only thing heard in the room was lewd , wet noises coming from your sopping cunt.

Se mi, was stuffing your own juices back into you at this point, you couldn't really tell if it was that or her fingers were just too filling.

You both were panting, one more than the other. Se mi lifted you up, carrying you bridal style. She softly placed a kiss on your damp forehead as she makes her way down the corridor, heading for the washroom to give you a nice warm bath.

Your beautiful lace dress, discarded and long forgotten.

" Let's get you cleaned up princess" ♡

[cloudyluun]

The Tattoo Artist

Summary: When you walk into Harry’s tattoo studio looking for something small and hidden, you don’t expect to walk out with flushed skin, shaking legs, and the most intense connection you’ve ever felt. His touch is precise, teasing — equal parts pain and pleasure. And as the needle hums, so does the tension between you. By the end of the session, you’re marked by more than just ink.

A/N: Hi babes 💋 So I had a filthy little thought about tattoo artist Harry with rolled-up sleeves, rings glinting under the light, and a jaw so sharp it could ruin you. And then I gave him a soft voice, a teasing mouth, and the self-control of a man who definitely loses it the second you squirm. This is for my girls who love a bit of pain, a lot of tension, and handsy tattoo artists who don't play fair

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: 

Explicit smut

Tattooing / needleplay (consensual)

Pain + pleasure dynamics

Oral (fem receiving), fingering, penetrative sex

Tattoo aftercare done very intimately

Slight power imbalance (tattoo artist x client)

Praise, teasing, breath play, slight dom/sub undertone

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You'd been staring at your phone for weeks. Late-night scrolling had become a new obsession, thumb hovering over photos of intricate designs, fine lines and dark shadows that traced skin like art. But what drew your attention even more was the artist behind them, Harry. Tattoos decorated his own body, winding around lean muscle, curling over strong wrists and broad shoulders, ink black as midnight against golden skin. You found yourself falling deeper with every picture, imagining the smooth glide of ink beneath his steady hands.

Booking the private appointment had felt impulsive, a rush of excitement tumbling in your belly as you typed in your name and contact details, clicking submit before you could second-guess yourself. Waiting for confirmation felt impossibly long, but now here you stood, heart fluttering, palms slightly clammy as you approached the tattoo studio nestled in a quiet street downtown.

You pushed open the heavy wooden door, a small bell tinkling gently above, announcing your presence. Immediately, the warmth and dim glow of the room enveloped you, soft golden lamps throwing shadows against the dark walls. Artwork hung carefully framed black and white prints, sketches of future tattoos, and faded Polaroids pinned to corkboards. Music hummed lowly in the background, a bass-heavy beat vibrating softly through your chest, matching the fluttery rhythm already there.

Harry emerged from behind a thick velvet curtain, and suddenly all your courage seemed to evaporate. Pictures had not done him justice. Standing there in a black tank top that hugged every dip of muscle, revealing just enough tattoos to draw your gaze and make your cheeks heat, he smiled warmly. His jeans sat low on his hips, a hint of ink visible just above the waistband, teasing your eyes before you forced them back to his face. Harry's smile turned playful, eyes bright with curiosity as if he’d noticed exactly where your attention had strayed.

"You're my three o'clock?" he asked, voice low and smooth, wrapping around you warmly.

You nodded quickly, stepping closer. "Yeah, that's me."

He extended his hand, rings glinting under the soft lighting, cool metal brushing your fingers as you shook it. "Harry. Good to meet you properly."

"Likewise," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. You mentally shook yourself. You were here for a tattoo, not to melt under the gaze of an artist with dangerously captivating eyes.

"So," Harry began, gesturing you towards a comfortable-looking leather chair in the corner. "Tell me about what we're doing today."

Sinking onto the plush cushion, you reached into your pocket to pull out a folded piece of paper, smoothing it carefully before handing it over. "Just something small. Hidden, but meaningful."

Harry leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he studied the paper carefully, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration. "Nice," he murmured approvingly, eyes flicking back up to meet yours. "You have a placement in mind?"

You hesitated only a moment, fingers nervously picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. "Yeah. Right here, just under my breast," you said softly, fingertips gently tracing the spot over your clothes.

Harry raised one eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling into an amused smirk. He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, muscles flexing distractingly beneath inked skin. "Bold choice for a first tattoo."

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you shrugged lightly, feigning confidence you didn't quite feel. "I trust your skills."

His gaze lingered on yours, playful yet intense. "You trust me?" he teased softly, green eyes glittering as they met yours, daring you to say no.

"Shouldn't I?" you shot back, matching his teasing tone even though your heart pounded rapidly in your chest.

He chuckled warmly, shaking his head slightly as he stood, offering a hand to help you up from the chair. "Good answer. Come on, let's get started."

He led you deeper into the studio, behind the curtain that revealed an even more intimate space, complete with another cushioned chair and a small rolling cart filled neatly with sterilized instruments, ink bottles, and meticulously organized supplies. Everything gleamed under the careful lighting, promising professionalism, despite the undeniable intimacy of the moment.

You hesitated slightly as Harry began to gather supplies, his movements confident and easy. "Nervous?" he asked gently, noticing your quietness.

"Maybe just a little," you admitted, voice softer than you'd intended.

He paused, turning fully towards you. "That's normal. First tattoos are special."

"Did it hurt when you got yours?" you asked, curiosity temporarily overshadowing your nervousness.

A smile softened his features. "Sure, a bit. But sometimes that's part of the appeal, isn't it?"

Your heart skipped, warmth blossoming under his gaze. "Maybe for some people," you replied quietly, unable to tear your eyes away from his steady stare.

His chuckle was deep, soft enough that you felt it more than heard it. "We'll see which type you are soon enough."

Harry tugged on a pair of gloves slowly, latex snapping softly against his wrists, and suddenly every nerve in your body sparked to life. Your throat went dry, breath catching unexpectedly as he moved closer, eyes intent on your face. "Alright, love," he murmured, voice soothing despite the electric intensity vibrating between you. "I'm going to need you to lift your top so I can mark the stencil."

Heart pounding furiously, you lifted your shirt just enough to reveal smooth skin, acutely aware of the warmth of his proximity. His eyes darkened slightly as he carefully laid the stencil against your ribs, fingers pressing gently, warm through the thin gloves, steady yet undeniably tender.

"Still trust me?" he murmured teasingly, glancing up through thick lashes as you tried not to squirm under his touch.

"Yes," you breathed, voice barely audible.

He smiled softly, thumb brushing reassuringly against your side, an innocent gesture that somehow sent shivers cascading down your spine. "Good. You're in safe hands."

Your eyes locked with his, pulse racing wildly as his gaze held yours, heavy and charged, teasing and sincere all at once. You wondered if he'd ever looked at another client like this, if anyone else had felt this instant, almost magnetic pull towards him.

"Ready?" he asked quietly, breaking your reverie with gentle authority, and you nodded, trying desperately to appear calm despite your shaking legs and racing thoughts.

As the soft buzzing hum of the tattoo gun filled the small space between you, something in the atmosphere shifted, thickening with anticipation. Watching Harry lean closer, feeling the slight pressure of his fingers steadying you, you knew one thing for certain: the tattoo wasn't the only thing marking you today. He paused, glancing up briefly, eyes warm but focused. “Deep breath in, sweetheart,” he instructed softly, voice brushing your skin like velvet.

You obeyed instinctively, inhaling slowly, trying to still the butterflies spiralling in your chest. The quiet hum of the tattoo machine filled the small space around you, buzzing gently, vibrating softly through the air and sinking deep into your bones. It was oddly soothing, a rhythmic pulse settling into a steady heartbeat between the two of you.

The moment the needle touched your skin, you winced slightly, a sharp prick of pain skittering along your ribs. Harry’s thumb moved to rest on your side, applying comforting pressure, reassuring you without a single word. His steady hand calmed your nerves, a silent promise that he wouldn’t hurt you more than necessary.

“Doing alright?” Harry murmured after a moment, eyes darting up to meet yours again, the dark green depths sparkling with genuine concern.

You nodded, feeling your heartbeat quicken as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin. “It’s not as bad as I expected.”

He chuckled softly, eyes crinkling at the corners as he returned his gaze to your skin. “Good. It usually isn’t, once you get used to it. Just let me know if you need a break.”

You smiled faintly, watching as his fingers held you carefully, the tips pressing softly against your ribs, drawing your attention away from the sting. Soon, the sharpness faded, replaced by an odd warmth spreading slowly from the needle’s path, radiating gently through your body, making your limbs feel strangely heavy yet comfortably numb.

“So,” Harry spoke after a comfortable pause, voice low and conversational, filling the silence effortlessly. “Why this tattoo?”

You bit your lower lip lightly, thoughtful for a moment, before responding. “I wanted something small but meaningful. Something hidden that only I know about. A little secret.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly, clearly intrigued, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. “Sounds mysterious. Are you the type who enjoys secrets?”

You laughed softly, feeling your tension ease a little more under his teasing. “Depends on who’s keeping them with me.”

Harry’s smile deepened, his eyes flicking up to meet yours again, the intensity in his gaze making your heart leap. “Interesting. Maybe I’ll earn one or two today?”

The teasing tone of his voice drew a soft laugh from your throat, warming your cheeks. “You think you’re capable of that already?”

“I’ve got good hands,” Harry quipped lightly, pausing briefly to wipe away excess ink from your skin, fingertips brushing gently across your ribs again, sending another pleasant shiver down your spine. “Trustworthy hands, I’d say.”

You hummed softly, daring to hold his gaze a little longer. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Please do,” he murmured warmly, voice softer now, a hint of something deeper lurking beneath his playful words. “Relax your shoulders for me. You’re tensing up again.”

“Sorry,” you breathed, dropping your shoulders slightly, instantly rewarded by the soft pressure of his palm soothingly rubbing your side. “Guess I’m still a bit nervous.”

Harry’s thumb traced slow, comforting circles against your ribs, the warmth of his touch distracting you entirely from the dull sting. “Nothing to apologize for,” he assured softly, voice low and gentle, easing away any lingering doubts. “You’re doing amazing, sweetheart. Nearly halfway there already.”

His constant reassurance wrapped around you like a soft blanket, easing your anxieties and replacing them with a different kind of nervousness the kind you felt low in your belly whenever his fingers brushed too close to sensitive skin. Your breathing gradually grew shallow, each inhale becoming shakier as he moved steadily upwards, nearing the delicate curve beneath your breast.

Harry must have noticed because his movements slowed slightly, eyes briefly flicking upward again. His gaze had darkened noticeably, intensity clouding the green depths, making your pulse quicken dangerously. “Still okay?” he asked quietly, voice deepening slightly, rougher now.

You nodded, swallowing hard, aware he could probably hear the erratic beat of your heart. “Yeah. It’s just... sensitive there,” you admitted shyly, feeling your cheeks flush deeper.

His lips curled knowingly, teasingly, but he remained professional, nodding once in understanding. “We’ll take it slow. Tell me if you need me to pause.”

“Okay,” you whispered, voice barely audible as his hand steadied against your skin again, thumb continuing its slow, calming circles, gently drawing your focus away from the needle’s bite.

Each careful movement of his hand felt more deliberate now, softer and infinitely more careful, as if he was intentionally drawing out the sensation. The warmth from his touch blended seamlessly with the slight pinch of the needle, creating a strange but enticing blend of sensations that left you breathless.

You dared a glance downward, watching the gentle movements of his gloved hand over your skin, each stroke precise and controlled, highlighting the careful strength behind every touch. The image was mesmerizing, deeply intimate in a way you hadn’t expected, and suddenly you were intensely aware of his proximity, the quiet intimacy of the dimly lit room, and the rapid rise and fall of your own chest.

He must have sensed your shift in mood, because when he spoke again, his voice had dropped to a huskier tone, quiet yet charged. “You know, sometimes the sensitive areas are the most rewarding.”

Your breath caught slightly, a tiny gasp escaping your lips before you could stop it. Harry’s eyes met yours sharply, noticing instantly, gaze darkening even more, jaw tightening subtly in response. The air between you thickened, tension stretching like a wire, ready to snap at the slightest touch.

“Good to know,” you managed softly, voice breathless, barely louder than a whisper.

Harry smiled slowly, warmly, thumb brushing against your skin again, lingering deliberately longer this time. “Glad you agree.”

His movements grew impossibly gentler, the needle trailing carefully along the sensitive curve, so precisely controlled you barely felt the pinch. Instead, you felt only the tender caress of his gloved fingertips, distracting you, soothing you, yet simultaneously awakening every nerve beneath your skin.

“Almost done,” he murmured softly, voice silky and reassuring, words brushing across your skin like another gentle touch. “You’re doing beautifully.”

You exhaled slowly, warmth blossoming in your chest from his praise. “Thanks. You’re making this easy.”

Harry’s gaze softened affectionately, lingering warmly on your flushed cheeks. “That’s my job, sweetheart.”

The tenderness in his tone wrapped around you comfortably, and as you settled deeper into the gentle rhythm of his touch, the humming of the needle faded gently into the background, replaced entirely by the warmth radiating from Harry’s steady hands.

Slowly, your body relaxed into the plush leather beneath you, tension easing out of your muscles with each carefully placed stroke of ink. Harry’s fingers maintained their firm yet gentle pressure, guiding your breath with every deliberate touch. The sensation had long ago crossed the boundary between discomfort and pleasure, blurring the lines until you weren't sure exactly when the needle's bite had transformed into something entirely more enticing.

Without thinking, you shifted your hips slightly, seeking comfort or perhaps seeking something else entirely. The movement brushed your thigh against his knee, and before you could fully comprehend it, a quiet, shaky moan slipped past your lips, not from pain but from a deeper, more insistent ache you hadn’t anticipated feeling.

Instantly, Harry’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing slightly as he searched your expression, his gaze burning through yours with sudden intensity. A teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though the tension clenching his jaw was unmistakable.

"That felt good?" he asked softly, voice low and gravelly, vibrating through you with an edge of something dangerous.

Heat rushed immediately to your face, yet instead of pulling back, you found yourself holding his gaze boldly. Your heart hammered so loudly in your ears you wondered briefly if he could hear it, too. Gathering every ounce of courage you had, you leaned into the charged silence, voice trembling softly as you whispered, "I want more. I want you."

Harry froze for a moment, the machine still buzzing quietly in his hand, poised inches above your skin. His gaze searched yours intently, darkening by the second, something unreadable shifting behind those intense green eyes. Carefully, deliberately, he turned off the tattoo machine, the sudden silence thickening the already tense air around you. You barely dared to breathe as he peeled the gloves from his hands slowly, eyes never leaving yours.

"Are you sure?" His voice came out husky, deeper than before, filled with restrained need. It felt like a challenge wrapped in cautious tenderness, as though he wanted nothing more than for you to say yes, yet still gave you every chance to reconsider.

Your heart raced, blood thrumming wildly beneath your skin as you met his gaze head-on. Every nerve, every cell, every instinct screamed yes, urging you forward without hesitation.

"I'm sure," you breathed softly, words coming out clear and confident despite the fluttering chaos in your stomach.

In a single fluid motion, Harry closed the small distance between you, hand gently cupping your cheek, thumb stroking softly over your heated skin. His eyes searched your face briefly, and then, without further hesitation, he captured your lips in a searing kiss rough, claiming and leaving no room for doubt. Instantly, every shred of restraint dissolved, replaced entirely by raw, burning desire.

His other hand found your waist, gripping you tightly, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together perfectly, chest to chest, heartbeat matching frantically. You felt the heat of him, solid and reassuring, fingers curling possessively into your skin. Your lips parted eagerly beneath his, allowing him deeper, breath mingling as your kiss grew hungry and desperate, erasing any hesitation you'd both held onto.

When you broke apart for a fraction of a second, gasping for air, Harry pressed his forehead to yours, breathing heavily. His eyes were dark, wild almost, cheeks flushed, and his lips reddened from your urgent kiss.

"You've no idea how hard it was to stay professional," he murmured roughly, lips brushing teasingly against yours again. "Thought I'd lose my mind when you kept looking at me like that."

"Like what?" you asked breathlessly, voice hitching as his lips travelled down your jawline, feather-light kisses igniting sparks along your skin.

"Like you wanted this as much as I did," he whispered fiercely, hand slipping beneath your shirt again, fingers grazing softly along the sensitive edge of your fresh tattoo. "Do you know how difficult you made it?"

A small, breathless laugh escaped you, dissolving into a shuddering sigh as he gently kissed the skin beside your fresh ink. "You hid it pretty well."

He chuckled softly, breath warm against your skin. "Trust me, love, I didn't. You just weren't paying attention."

His mouth pressed slowly against your neck, trailing warm kisses down the sensitive line of your throat, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You tilted your head instinctively, granting him better access, completely at his mercy, welcoming every tender mark of possession he left on your skin.

"I couldn't focus on anything else," you confessed quietly, eyes fluttering shut briefly as his teeth grazed your collarbone. "Not once you touched me."

Harry pulled back slightly, lifting your chin gently with his fingertips until your eyes met again. His gaze was filled with warmth and intensity, sincerity woven into every whispered word. "Good. Because neither could I."

You smiled softly, heart swelling beneath the sincerity in his voice. "Then stop holding back."

A low, rumbling sound of appreciation escaped his throat as he kissed you again, lips urgent and possessive, exploring your mouth hungrily, tasting you deeply as though he couldn't get enough. His hands moved confidently over your body, tracing each curve, gripping your waist firmly, pulling you impossibly closer until you felt every inch of him pressed flush against you.

The room blurred around you, the tattoo chair creaking softly beneath your combined weight as the intensity between you built rapidly, fuelling every kiss and every heated touch. His fingers traced slowly upwards again, teasing along your ribcage, brushing dangerously close to the sensitive edge of your fresh tattoo, eliciting another soft, involuntary moan from your lips.

"Careful," he warned playfully, eyes gleaming mischievously as he caught your lower lip lightly between his teeth. "Wouldn't want to ruin all my hard work."

You laughed softly, breathless and dizzy from his teasing. "I think your hard work might've already ruined me."

His smile softened tenderly, gaze deepening as he brushed his thumb gently along your lower lip, tracing its soft curve carefully. "Not yet," he murmured, voice low and heavy with promise. "But give me a few more minutes."

Your breath hitched slightly at his words, anticipation coiling tighter within you. "Promises, promises," you teased lightly, arching an eyebrow playfully even as your heart hammered beneath your ribs.

Harry grinned wickedly, eyes sparkling with mischief and intent. "Trust me," he whispered, lips brushing yours again, breath warm and intoxicating. "I always keep my promises."

As he kissed you again, deeper, slower, claiming you entirely, you surrendered completely, heart racing with the knowledge that, from this moment forward, you'd forever bear his mark, not just inked on your skin, but etched permanently within your very being.

Harry’s hands gripped your hips firmly, fingers flexing like he couldn’t decide whether to hold back or drag you into him completely. You felt the slight shift of his stance as he sat back against the chair, tugging you with him until you were straddling his lap. The leather creaked beneath your knees, your thighs bracketing his hips as you settled onto him, chest flushed, lips parted, eyes locked.

“God, look at you,” he murmured, one hand trailing up your side until it brushed the underside of your breast. “You look so fucking good inked by me.”

You trembled slightly, breath catching as his fingers ghosted over your fresh tattoo, careful yet possessive. His lips followed soon after, placing the softest kiss just beside the sting of it, a reverent kind of worship in the way he touched you. He pulled back a fraction, just long enough to press his mouth lower, sucking a bruise into the tender skin beneath, claiming it, claiming you.

You whimpered, hips grinding involuntarily against the hardness pressing between you. His groan rumbled through your chest, low and filthy, and it lit something desperate inside you.

“You’ve no idea what you're doing to me,” he muttered, mouth brushing hot along your collarbone. “Touching you all day, watching you squirm, knowing you were dripping for me under that shirt.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, and he hissed, the sound laced with approval. “Harry,” you breathed, almost a plea.

His hand slipped between your bodies, dipping under the waistband of your panties like he’d been there a hundred times before. The pads of his fingers found you easily, already slick and aching. His breath stuttered as he pressed two fingers gently inside, easing them in with practiced control, his other hand holding your hip steady.

“Fuck,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “You’re so wet for me. So ready.”

You bit your bottom lip, hips rocking into the slow curl of his fingers. He watched your every movement with a kind of hunger that made your skin burn.

“Ride my fingers,” he said softly, command coated in velvet. “Let me feel you lose it.”

You moved without hesitation, each roll of your hips drawing him deeper, tighter. The pressure built quickly, a fire spreading low in your belly as he crooked his fingers just right, again and again. Your forehead dropped against his as you panted, overwhelmed by sensation, nails scraping red trails across his shoulders. His jaw clenched, eyes half-lidded, watching you come undone with nothing but his hand and his words.

“Just like that,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “You’re so perfect like this. Taking me so well. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

You moaned, louder this time, and he silenced it with a kiss, swallowing the sound like he needed it to survive. Your rhythm faltered as your orgasm crept closer, each thrust of his fingers turning you inside out, heat curling tighter until you were right on the edge.

“Let go for me, sweetheart,” he whispered against your mouth. “Show me how pretty you come when you’re marked by me.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. You shattered on his hand, walls pulsing around his fingers as you gasped out his name, burying your face in his neck. He held you through it, whispering praise into your hair, rocking you gently until the trembling slowed.

Before you could recover, he was lifting you slightly, shifting you in his lap, one hand gripping your ass while the other shoved his jeans down just far enough to free himself. His cock pressed against you, thick and hard, dragging through your slick folds as he gritted out a low curse.

“Need to be inside you,” he growled. “Need to feel you for real.”

You nodded, eyes wide, mouth still slack with pleasure. He guided you down slowly, the stretch delicious and overwhelming. You moaned as he filled you, every inch pushing deeper, drawing the breath from your lungs.

Harry’s hands clenched at your hips, holding you still for a moment as he buried himself to the hilt. “So tight,” he muttered, voice strained. “So fucking good.”

You rocked your hips gently, testing the rhythm, and his eyes rolled back briefly before snapping open again. He met you thrust for thrust, deep and slow, savouring every movement like it was the last. Each stroke dragged across that sweet spot inside you, setting off sparks that hadn’t even had time to die down from before.

“You’re mine now, yeah?” he breathed, one hand sliding up your body to cup your breast, thumb brushing your nipple. “Marked you so pretty. Can’t let anyone else touch you like this.”

“Yes,” you gasped, barely able to form the word.

He pulled you down for another kiss, rougher now, almost desperate. His hips snapped up harder, and your vision blurred at the edges, the rhythm messy and consuming. His fingers slid up to your throat, holding gently, a pressure that sent your mind spinning in the best way.

“You going to come again?” he murmured, voice wrecked. “Come while I fuck you like you were made for me?”

You nodded frantically, your body already tightening, teetering on the edge again. He leaned forward, lips closing around your nipple, tongue flicking as he bit gently, and it sent you crashing.

The climax tore through you without warning, your body seizing around him, mouth falling open in a silent cry. Harry groaned against your chest, hips jerking erratically as he followed, spilling inside you with a rough, broken moan. His grip on your throat tightened slightly, grounding you as you both unraveled.

He held you through the aftershocks, one hand still cupping your breast while the other stroked your back, drawing soft shapes as you both caught your breath.

“Fuck,” he whispered eventually, forehead pressed to your shoulder. “You’ve absolutely ruined me.”

You laughed softly, too blissed out to speak, heart still racing.

“Good,” you managed after a long beat, smiling lazily. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Harry let out a soft, satisfied sigh against your skin, his lips brushing your collarbone before he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes had lost that dark, hungry edge, now warm and tender, the way someone looks when they know they’ve gotten exactly what they wanted. He still hadn’t let go of you, hands resting on your hips, like he didn’t quite trust himself to stop touching you.

“You’re a bit of a dream, you know that?” he said, voice low and affectionate.

You let out a soft laugh, nudging your nose against his. “You say that to all your clients?”

He grinned, eyes sparkling. “Only the ones who moan like that.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks burned warm. “Smooth.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, like he had nowhere else to be. When he finally pulled away, his hands slid gently down your waist and under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly off his lap. You shivered slightly as your feet touched the floor, the shift from heat to cool air making you more aware of the lingering ache in your muscles, the afterglow humming under your skin.

Harry turned and reached for a clean towel, wiping himself off quickly before tugging on his boxers and jeans. His focus shifted back to you immediately, all teasing gone as he gently tapped your hip.

“Lie back, love. Gotta clean you up properly.”

You climbed back into the chair with a small wince, your body still tingling from everything he'd just done to you. Harry moved with a different kind of care now. Reverent. Focused. He wet a soft cloth with antiseptic wash and started to clean around your fresh tattoo, his fingers brushing over your skin with almost no pressure at all.

The buzzing tension that had thrummed through the room earlier had dissolved completely, replaced with something quieter. Something that felt suspiciously like affection.

His eyes stayed fixed on your skin as he worked, his thumb moving in slow, featherlight circles just beside the ink. “Still doing okay?”

“More than okay,” you murmured, watching his face. “You’re being very gentle for someone who just had their fingers knuckle-deep inside me.”

His lips twitched into a smile, but he didn’t look up. “That’s because I like what I just marked. Want it to heal pretty.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, full and soft and surprised by how light you suddenly felt. The intimacy hadn’t faded, it had just changed shape. Softer now, easier. It didn’t feel like an accident anymore.

Harry reached for a tube of ointment and applied it delicately, his fingertips smoothing the cream across your skin with focused precision. He leaned in and pressed a slow, sweet kiss just beside the tattoo, then pulled back to meet your gaze.

“Might have to touch it up in a few weeks,” he said, voice low and teasing again. “You know, just in case you want an excuse to come back.”

You gave him a look. “As if I need an excuse.”

He didn’t reply right away. Just smiled and reached for a piece of sterile wrap, placing it carefully over your skin and securing it in place with practiced ease. When he was done, he sat back and let his eyes roam over you again, lazy and admiring.

“Stay here,” he said after a second. “I’ve got something for you.”

You watched as he walked over to the other side of the room, grabbing a worn hoodie off a hook near the curtain. He tossed it gently in your direction, and you caught it with a quiet laugh.

“Really?” you asked, already tugging it over your head. It smelled like him. Leather and ink and something warm and a little spicy.

“You’re cold,” he replied with a shrug, dropping into his chair and picking up a sketchpad from the nearby table. “Plus, it looks better on you.”

You settled back into the chair, pulling your knees up and wrapping your arms around them as you watched him work. He flipped through a few pages, pencil scratching across the surface as he started sketching something new. Every now and then he glanced up at you, eyes drifting from your face to your legs to the bare sliver of skin still visible above the waistband of your panties.

“You always draw after sex?” you asked playfully.

“Only when I’m inspired.”

“Am I your muse now?” you teased, tilting your head.

His eyes flicked up, and the smile that curved his lips was softer than you expected. “Think you might be.”

You sat there in silence for a few minutes, just watching him. The quiet was comfortable, filled with the low hum of whatever playlist still trickled through the speakers and the scratch of pencil on paper. It felt domestic in the strangest way. Like this wasn’t the first time you'd curled up in his hoodie, watching him create something beautiful.

Eventually, curiosity won. “Have you ever… done this with someone else?”

Harry didn’t pause, didn’t even blink. Just kept sketching. “You mean tattooed someone under their boob and made them come on my lap?”

You shot him a flat look, though the corners of your mouth twitched.

He finally looked up, eyes gleaming. “No. I haven’t.”

Your expression must have betrayed your disbelief because he laughed and leaned back, tossing the pencil onto the table.

“Look,” he said, gesturing toward you lazily. “You think I do this with every pretty girl that walks in here?”

“I think you probably could.”

He smiled wider, standing and walking back over to where you sat. He rested one hand on the arm of the chair, the other brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Only the ones who look that good in lace,” he said, voice low and full of heat.

You stared at him for a second, trying not to melt right there in his hoodie.

“Shameless,” you muttered.

“Always,” he agreed.

You stood reluctantly, knowing it was probably time to leave, even though every part of you wanted to stay. Harry walked you back to the front slowly, fingers brushing yours with every step. As you slipped your shoes back on, he scribbled something on a small piece of paper, folding it twice before placing it gently in your hand.

“Call me,” he said, like it wasn’t a question at all.

You looked down at the paper, then back at him. “Was hoping you’d write it right under the tattoo.”

He smirked. “Too obvious. This way, you still get to choose.”

You leaned in, pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I already did.”

As you stepped out into the cool night air, hoodie pulled tight around you, skin still tingling from his touch, you smiled to yourself. You left with a tattoo and the number of the man who gave it to you written right on a piece of paper in your hand.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading, you’re a total angel! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! It means everything to me! 💖

taglist: @oscahpastry @mema10 @angelbabyyy99 @iloveharrystyles04 @cinemharry @drwho06 @donutsandpalmtrees @panini @mads3502 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @one-sweet-gubler @rizosrizos26 @ciriceimpera @everyscarisahealingplace @hello-heyhi @sexymfharriet @lizsogolden @hannah9921 @chicabonitasblog @huhidontknowstuff @berrywoods1245 @jennovaaa @angeldavis777 @prettygurl-2009 @almostcontentcreator @run-for-the-hills @maudie-duan @dipmeinhoneyh @harrrrystylesslut @georgiarose94 @stylestarkey @watarmelon212 @hopefullimaginer123, @fangirl509east @bethiegurl19 @adoredeanna @secretisme4 @harry2121 @hopefullimaginer123 @fangirl509east @uncassettodiricordi @2601-london @zbaby @harryscherries28 @michellekstyles @alohajix

[justhereforsubsevika]

Sub!sevi drabble

The second time she'd experimented with showing her subby side with you she expected the same sort of treatment, that you'd coo at her and let her cum while telling her how cute she is.

Sevika did not expect you to say no when she asked to cum, huffing and grunting when you took the vibrator off her when she was close. You touched the inside of her thighs and her body jolted. She refused to look at you because she knew she was pouting.

When she got close again she asked, "please, please can i cum?" You found it harder to say no to that cute face, little grunts coming from her mouth and heavy breaths puffing out her nose. But you said no nonetheless, turning the vibrator down to almost nothing.

This time she whined, her hand quickly coming up to her mouth to block her noises. "Aw, so cute Sevi baby!! Let me hear you, princess." You demanded, gently taking her hand away from her mouth. She was whining and moaning, a touch of panic in her eyes. She was shocked at herself and it was a little overwhelming to be this vulnerable.

"Hey, hey, Sevi its okay baby," you coo at her, running the back of your fingers along her cheek. She leans into them and kisses your fingers, shocking you when she starts sucking on one of them.

"Mmm, mmm gonna cum, mmm please, please," she chants, interjected by high pitched, croaky moans. You take the vibrator off again and she feels like she could cry. You wait to see what she thinks will earn her orgasm, and giggle when she takes 2 of your fingers back in her mouth and sucks them intently.

She looks down at you with puppy dog eyes, her cheeks hollowed, your fingers shiny. So you let your baby cum, pressing the vibrator hard onto her clit. You groan at the sight of her pussy leaking white cum underneath her. She takes your fingers so deep that she gags, and you pull them out because she's clearly a little too deep in her subspace. You tease her entrance with the vibrator a bit, making her squirm and push her hips down.

"T-too much," she whimpers after a small while. You remove the toy, not wanting to overwhelm. She hugs you close and lazily kisses your forehead while you draw comforting circles around her belly button.

Sub sevi 😞😞😞 sub sevi come home 😞😞😞

[h8aaz]

⋆ ࣪. — MY VALENTINE — .࣪ ⋆

WARNINGS .ᐟ . . . smut, MDNI!!! . sub!sam, dom + f!reader . piv unprotected (wrap it, ya freaks) . slight mention of edging + choking . petnames . established relationship .

GABS YAPS .ᐟ . . . happy valentine's day, angels!! hope y'all like this, it's extremely rushed bc i forgot ab it lmfaoo. this is mostly catered to the #1 sub sammy lover aka the loml @j2archives & its slightly inspired by their writing! likes, comments, + reblogs are very appreciated!! <33.

sam whimpered as you continued to ride him. petals littered the bed, matching the mess of lipstick kisses and purple love bites on his neck. his hands gripped your rocking hips, squeezing the supple skin, but not moving you. his eyebrows were upturned in pleasure while his lust-blown eyes were mesmerized by your bouncing tits; his pupils dilated at the hardened peaks of your chest, a slight ring of his green eyes showing behind them.

you reached out to his chest, slowly raking your nails down with red marks in their wake. his gaze followed down where your touch lingered. he let out a loud, whiny moan at the sight of you taking him in, a creamy ring around his base from your past orgasms.

your own noises matched the movements of your body, which brought out sam's confirmation of pleasure. "fuck! oh- please, please let me-" his head jerked back against the pillow, his eyes closing as slurred moans slipped from his open mouth. you had sped up, bouncing on his cock more frantically, searching for your next high.

"let you what, baby?" you cooed through fucked out pants, reaching to cradle one side of his head with a hand. you pulled his flushed and sweaty face down to stare back at you. "d'you wanna cum? is that it, sweetheart?" you teased with a halt of your hips, making him whine as he nodded.

"mm- please," he went to buck his hips while he squeezed yours tighter. your hand immediately wrapped around his throat, lightly choking him. "don't," you ordered before leaning down until your lips brushed his, "not yet, baby." you whispered. he crashed his lips against yours with heated noises, your lipstick smearing on his mouth for the millionth time.

you began to move slowly against him, drawing more pornagraphic mewls from your boyfriend. he savored the feeling of you; your soft, colored lips moving against his, the feel of your breasts pressed against his chest, and the wet slick raining down from your cunt onto his cock. oh how he loved the way your warm gummy walls hugged his dick so snugly, it drove him insane how perfect you were for him.

your tongues fought as the knot in your stomach got closer to breaking. you pushed yourself up, a string of saliva connecting your mouths before disintegrating when you grinded and bounced on him. sam's hands moved up to grip your breasts, fingers playing with your nipples as your orgasm washed over you.

he felt every wave of you against him. you looked down at him through your hooded lids and simply nodded, the signal making him practically jump. his lust and hunger for you was shown through his pretty lashes as he quickly grabbed you and pulled you back down to him. he held you tightly while he slammed into you.

the mixed noises of both of your moans and the wetness where you were connected filled the bedroom, the petals on the sheets were ruffled and broken around your bodies. he continued to pound up into you until he finally came undone, loud bliss coming out of him while his white spurts of cum coated your insides.

the two of you stayed like that for a while, just breathing in the scents of each other and your sex in the air. you lifted your head and smiled, "happy valentine's day, my love."

he chuckled softly, swiping your hair out of your face. "happy valentine's day, baby." he breathed before pecking your lips multiple times until it became heated once again.

tags: @sunsbaby @starzify @dulcescorderitas @soldiersgirl @ultravi0lence14 @cowboysandcigarettes @legalmente-loca @bejeweledinterludes

[psformybss]

could we get some more secret fiance smut ?

All Night

series masterlist

warnings: 18+ MDNI, dom!drew, oral (f. receiving), soft dom/sub dynamics, wall sex, overstimulation, praise kink, possessiveness, aftercare

an: y’all i think this is fr some of my best work

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

Drew’s heart damn near stopped the moment she walked out of their bedroom. That dress—the one their stylist picked out—looked innocent on the hanger. White. Simple. Bare-backed. Elegant. But on her, it was lethal. It clung to her curves like it knew the exact shape of her body. The silk skimmed her breasts, the faintest outline of her panties showed beneath the smooth fabric—lace, delicate, teasing. Nothing overt. But it didn’t have to be.

He stared, heat rising in his throat, jaw clenched so tight he could barely speak. She smiled, sly and knowing. “Too much?”

His eyes roamed from her heels to her mouth. “Baby… not even close. But if our stylist was trying to test my sanity, she nailed it.”

The ride to the premiere was a blur of warm skin and near touches. She sat close, her leg brushing his, her hand resting far too high on his thigh. At the event, he kept his arm wrapped tight around her waist—not just because the cameras loved it, but because he needed the anchor. Her scent—soft and floral—wrapped around him every time she leaned in. Her hand grazed his chest, her lips whispered in his ear. It was calculated. It was cruel.

And he was already hard before they even reached the carpet.

By the time they stepped through the front door hours later, his restraint had unraveled into a threadbare thing. He didn’t even bother turning on the lights. He shut the door behind them, backed her against it with a gentle thud, and caught her lips in a slow, claiming kiss.

“You wore this,” he murmured against her mouth, “knowing I wouldn’t survive it. No bra. Those tiny panties. You knew.”

She exhaled a soft moan as his hand slid up her thigh, pushing the fabric higher. “I hoped.”

“That’s dangerous, baby.”

His fingers found the zipper and eased it down with deliberate care, each inch revealing more skin, more temptation. He didn’t rush. His mouth followed the slow descent, brushing warm, open-mouthed kisses along her throat, then lower, lips dragging over the graceful curve of her neck. The dress slipped from her shoulders like a sigh and pooled at her feet in a soft whisper of silk.

He leaned back just enough to look at her, bare except for the lace hugging her hips and those heels still strapped to her feet. Her nipples were already taut, chest rising and falling, her body glowing under his gaze like she knew she was his favorite kind of sin.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he breathed.

Then he was on his knees before her like he was made to be there. His hands smoothed over her thighs, then up to cup her ass as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin above the lace. “Already soaked for me, sweetheart?”

She nodded, breath catching when his tongue licked over the center of the damp fabric.

He groaned, slow and low. “Good girl.”

He eased the panties down her legs with reverence, kissing the inside of her thighs, then pushed them apart and buried his face between them. His tongue was all slow circles and teasing flicks, drawing tight moans from her lips as her fingers sank into his hair.

He made her come with his mouth alone, her legs trembling, his name gasped over and over like a prayer. But when he stood again, holding her up like she weighed nothing, the heat in his eyes made her knees go weak all over again.

“Turn around,” he whispered, voice velvet and command. “Hands on the wall. Don’t move.”

She obeyed, heart thudding, body still thrumming from release. He stepped up behind her, one hand gripping her hip, the other stroking between her thighs, feeling how wet she still was.

“Such a mess for me,” he murmured, kissing her neck. “I love it when you make a mess.”

She gasped when he slid into her with one slow, deep stroke, stretching her wide and full. Her hands flattened against the wall, body arching into him as he rocked his hips forward, slow but deliberate, each thrust sinking deeper, grinding with intent. His free hand slipped beneath her to palm her breast, fingers rolling her nipple in soft, rhythmic pinches that made her clench around him.

“You’re mine like this,” he whispered against her ear, his pace steady, his voice soothing even as her legs threatened to give out. “This pretty little body was made for me. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped, almost crying it.

“That’s right.” He kissed her shoulder, hips rolling slow and deep, hitting every spot that made her cry out. “Say it again.”

She did. Again and again. With every stroke, every grind, every wave of pleasure building hotter and higher. When she came, her whole body trembled, tight and shaking around him and he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her through it, murmuring sweet things in her ear, soft praises laced with heat.

But he wasn’t done.

He scooped her up in his arms, kissing her temple as he carried her to bed. She was dazed, boneless, lips parted, but she clung to him like she never wanted to be anywhere else.

She thought maybe they’d collapse and fall asleep. Instead, he laid her out gently, then kissed his way down her chest, murmuring, “I want you again. One more time. Just like this.”

She opened for him without hesitation.

This time, he went even slower. Careful. Devoted. Her legs wrapped around his waist, his forehead resting against hers, every thrust deep and aching. His hand slid down between them, circling her clit with maddening patience, while the other stayed wrapped around her wrist, holding her close beneath him.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispered. “Let go for me again. I’ve got you.”

She came with a broken cry, clinging to him, and he followed seconds later, thrusting deep and stilling with a groan, spilling inside her as he kissed her neck, her lips, her chest, anything he could reach.

They didn’t untangle for a long time. His body covered hers, heavy but safe, his lips brushing over her skin as their breaths evened out.

Eventually, he tucked her against his chest, hand smoothing up and down her back, voice low and rough with sleep.

“That dress?” he murmured, still drunk on her.

She smiled into his neck. “Mm?”

“Burned into my brain. You’re never wearing it around anyone else ever again.”

She giggled, soft and spent. “That possessive streak is showing.”

“Damn right,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You wrecked me.”

“And you liked it.”

He grinned, eyes closing, already planning the next time he’d get to show her just how much.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

A Textbook Case of Love (Professor!Agatha Harkness x f!Reader)

Synopsis: You're finally graduating but the only person you want to celebrate is missing in action. Perhaps it's time for a big romantic gesture.

Words: 5.5 k

Warnings: Student/teacher relationship, toxic relationship, power imbalance, possessiveness, tattoo, bondage, marking, biting, oral (R giving), fingering (R giving), teasing, swearing, begging, dom!R, sub!Agatha, emotional vulnerability

Tags: @sasheemo @buttercandy16 @chlondykebar @midnight-lestrange @babybeeelle @dontsblameme@grilledcheeseandguavajelly @fuckedupforkhahn @latedawnsearlysunsets92

AN: It's been a whole but I finally managed to write the next part to this series. I have at least one more planned so hopefully I can get that out soonish.

It was the happiest day of your life. You could feel the weight of your parents’ eyes on you as you walked towards the smiling woman. You held out your hand, her palm sliding along yours. Smiling, you turned, a camera going off.

Graduation was a big deal and you were going to milk it for all it was worth.

Your parents had shown up to surprise you that morning, right as you’d been packing up your dorm room. Dragging you away for brunch, they’d wanted to catch up. You, doing your best to dodge questions, had mostly talked about all the research you’d done that year. The shared looks between them suggested they picked up on how evasive you were being and didn’t like it. But you weren’t about to tell them everything you’d been doing that year.

Sitting back down, your eyes scanned the crowd of professors. Your fingers tightened around the curled up piece of paper in your hand.

You’d worked hard, pouring yourself into your final year. Your senior thesis had been a work of art. And the only person you could thank for it hadn’t even bothered to show up.

Walking from Agatha’s that morning, there’d been a spring in your step. You’d been excited, the day finally arriving. After this, there would be no more hiding, no more sneaking around. You could be open about your love for Agatha, could scream it from the rooftops, and no one could do a damned thing about it.

The thought that she wouldn’t be there hadn’t even crossed your mind.

The disappointment settled heavy in your stomach. You knew what it felt like to have that piercing gaze focused solely on you. The weight of it was familiar, comforting due to its origin. Without it, you felt unmoored, like you could disappear into the sky.

You checked out of the rest of the ceremony. More names, more speeches, nothing you cared about. Without the rough voice of Agatha in your ear, none of it mattered. There was only one person you wanted to celebrate with, and you knew you had to make it through dinner with your parents before you could go find her.

“Congratulations, honey,” your dad said as they found you amongst the crowd of new graduates.

“Thanks, Dad,” you said.

Your mom gave you a tight hug, her perfume familiar, bringing up memories of your childhood. It was easy to forget when you were so far from home. You’d thought moving out of state for college would help you spread your wings and grow into the person you were meant to be. You hadn’t considered all the parts of yourself you’d be leaving behind when you did so.

“We’re so proud of you,” your mom said, drawing back.

“Thanks.”

You weren’t sure how to be around them right now. Your stomach was churning with anxiety, your gut telling you something was wrong. Agatha hadn’t said anything the night before, and if she’d been a bit more intense than usual, you hadn’t been complaining. Her bruises still littered your body under your cap and gown. You wanted more.

You followed them back to the car they’d rented, slumping into the back seat like when you’d been a child. You watched Westview pass by as your parents drove, only straightening when you recognised the restaurant you were pulling up in front of.

“You still like Italian, don’t you, honey?” your dad asked, turning to look at you from his place behind the wheel.

“Yeah,” you said, but all you could think about was the last time you’d been there.

And everything that had come after.

It was different from last time, plenty of graduates there with their families to celebrate. You sat at one of the centre tables, so different from the intimate corner you’d holed up in with Agatha. Your knee bobbed, hands caught under your thighs, doing your best not to look over at that corner. You shouldn’t be thinking about that night that changed everything for you. Not while you were there with your parents.

Just the memory sent a throb between your legs.

You looked down at the menu, reading over it. When you glanced up, both of your parents were watching you.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

They shared a glance before your mother leaned forward, her hand clasping yours.

“You’ve felt distant this year,” she said.

“I’ve been busy.” You shrugged, “you know how it is in your senior year.”

“You’ve barely called,” your dad said.

“I told you. I’ve been busy. I graduated top of my class. That doesn’t happen if I kept messing around,” you said.

“We thought, perhaps, you might have been seeing someone,” your mom said, hesitant as if worried about scaring you off.

You tugged your hand out from under hers, your anxiety only making your knee bob harder. Your eyes darted around the restaurant before they returned to your parents.

“The only person I’ve seen with any regularity has been Professor Harkness.” Not technically a lie, “I had too much work to go meeting anyone new.”

“It’s okay if you have been seeing someone, honey,” your dad said.

“Look, Professor Harkness demands a lot from her students. Ask anyone. She has a reputation for being a hard ass. It’s not weird to not have time for anything but studying,” you replied, “I got enough grilling from my friends for not being at every stupid frat party. I don’t need it from you guys too.”

You could play the part of the sullen teenager they remembered from when you last lived with them. Shutting down would only remind them of how stubborn you could be. In order to keep the peace, they’d continue on like everything was fine and they didn’t want to know more.

They’d find out soon enough anyway.

Letting the subject drop, they went back to consulting the menu. You sighed, putting yours down. That same anxiety wasn’t leaving you just because they’d let you slip out of giving answers. All you wanted was to go back home to Agatha and celebrate with her. After all, it was her hard work that got you to this point.

“So what are you thinking you’re going to do now?” your dad asked over his pasta.

“What do you mean?” You prodded at your lasagna, knowing you should eat more, that if Agatha had been beside you it would have been easy to eat.

“Now you have your degree. You know your room is waiting for you back home,” he said.

“Oh. Right. That,” you said.

Truth was, you hadn’t thought about it much. All you knew was there was no chance in hell you were moving back home. Not while Agatha was still in Westview. Your plan extended just as far as Agatha. She was your future. That was all you knew.

“Do you have a job lined up?” your mom asked.

“Not yet.” You pushed some of your food around your plate, “I’m waiting to hear back on some things.”

Namely, what Agatha thought you should do.

“Well, you can wait with us back home. You’ll have no where to go after you move out of your dorm,” your mom said.

“Don’t worry about that. I have a place to stay and it’s better if I stay in town. You never know when you’ll get the call, right?” you replied, “seriously guys, I’ve got this.”

“You’ve worked so hard. You should be allowed to relax now,” your mom said.

“Honey, we’re worried you’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re going to burn yourself out if you don’t take some time to relax,” your dad said.

“You guys practiced this conversation, didn’t you?” You stabbed a piece of pasta, “seriously, I’m fine.”

“You didn’t even come home for Christmas,” your dad said.

“Because I had too much work. I wouldn’t have been any fun if I had,” you said.

“We missed you,” your mum said.

“I missed you guys too. But it was worth it,” you said.

“Top of your class,” your dad said with a small nod of his head. The pride was obvious in his voice.

“So stop worrying about me. I’ve got it all under control,” you said.

They let it drop for the rest of the night. You got the creme brûlée and thought about Agatha with each bite. One day, when your parents weren’t around, you’d taste it from her lips again. You were already dreaming about that day.

Your parents dropped you off at your dorm, your last night there. If you had any say, you wouldn’t be sleeping there. Texting Agatha, you sat on your stripped mattress, a thin single you had no interest in with questionable stains, waiting to hear from her.

You didn’t get a response.

That same anxiety was bubbling away in your gut again. Pacing the room, you stared at the boxes you had packed that day. Four years of your life packed up into a handful of boxes. It seemed so small that way, your life nothing more than the possessions you’d collected over the years. But your life was so much bigger than could be contained in the shoebox of a dorm room you’d been placed in.

Tugging on the sweater you’d worn when you’d left Agatha’s that morning, you snatched up your phone and your keys. A reckless idea had entered your mind. The kind of idea that you thought could end badly, but could end so very well. You were a gambling woman, and you were hoping the pay out would be high on this one.

Later that night, later than was appropriate for a social call, you rang Agatha’s doorbell. The night air had cooled, the wind bitter. You knocked. The house had been dark when you’d shown up, all except for one window. Upstairs, Agatha’s bedroom was bathed in soft light. You knocked again.

“What?” Agatha snarled as she opened the door.

“You weren’t at my graduation today,” you said, “I was very disappointed.”

You pouted, leaning against the doorframe. She growled, stepped back, right into the shadows of the house. Your eyes swept over her. You loved when she wore the robe, the one that clung to her curves and showed off enough skin to make your mouth water.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“See, I lose my place in the dorms tomorrow. I’m not a student anymore. And I have no where to go,” you said.

“And what am I meant to do about that?” she asked.

“Well, I was hoping you might let me stay with you,” you said, keeping your voice light, “it’s not as if I wasn’t practically living here anyway.”

“And why would I let you do that?” she snarled.

“Because I’ve brought you such a nice present to thank you for being the best professor at the college,” you said, “I would have never done so well if it wasn’t for you.”

“You looking for one last fuck for the road?” she asked, stepping back again.

“You ending things with me?” You tried to make it sound like you didn’t care, but your entire body tensed for the blow of rejection that would undo you.

“You’ll be moving on now. And I have a policy. No letting wanton sluts in when they’ll just disappear on me,” she said.

“I’m not disappearing,” you said, “in fact, I’d quite like to stay as long as you’ll have me.”

“Right,” she scoffed.

“You know, my parents asked me to move back home tonight. I said no. And when they asked me what my plans were for the future I only had one,” you said, “you.”

Her eyes swept over you, lingering for a moment on your face. She shook her head but stepped back again.

“Come on then, pet.”

She turned her back on you, wandering further into the house. You grinned, turning to grab your stuff, leaving most of it in the front entrance to be dealt with when it wasn’t the middle of the night. Agatha had disappeared somewhere into the house in the few minutes you’d managed to keep your eye off her.

You closed and locked the front door, the way you had so many times before. Taking the stairs two at a time, you went hunting. If this was some kind of game you intended to win. And your prize was going to be Agatha.

Turns out, you didn’t have to look far. She was lounging on the bed, her glasses resting on the end of her nose, a book resting in her long fingers. Her legs were crossed at the ankle and when she looked up at you, you froze.

“Why didn’t you come today?” you asked.

That same anxiety was back. Perhaps this was her ending things. Perhaps Rio had been right and your relationship had a deadline you didn’t even realise. Built in, the moment you graduated, the entire thing was over. Agatha could throw you out without a second thought.

Maybe she was done with you.

“Can’t you handle yourself if I’m not constantly with you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought we would celebrate together,” you said.

“What’s there to celebrate?” Her smile turned razor sharp, “you graduated. Plenty of people do. You’re nothing special.”

It hurt, her cruelty, but you gritted your teeth and stepped forward.

“I’m special because I’m yours,” you said.

Something shifted in her face. She lent forward, those eyes dragging over your body again, tongue slow as it ran along her lower lip. You shivered, but held your ground. You would stay there as long as she needed.

She rolled her eyes and lent back again, eyes returning to her book.

You waited, being her good girl. Whatever she was thinking, whatever game this was, you were determined to get your prize. She continued ignoring you.

“Don’t you want to see your present?” you asked when the silence grew too long it made you itch.

“If you must,” she said, still not looking up.

Grasping the bottom of the sweater you’d taken from her, you tossed it onto the bed. Her eyes flicked to it then back to her book. Your tank top was next, landing on her foot. She kicked it aside. Your bra landed in her lap.

Her eyes finally dragged up to you. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you turned, lifting your arm to show her your ribs. Her sharp inhale was everything you’d hoped it would be.

“Do you like you present?” you asked, doing your best to sound innocent as you asked.

The bed creaked. Fingertips ran over your skin, tracing the letters you’d had inked into your skin. You trembled under her touch.

“Get bored with a pen, did you, pet?” she asked.

“I went and found one of those tattoo parlours open all night. When they asked me who Agatha was, I told them she’s the woman I’m going to spend my life with,” you said, not bothering to tell her that you’d been advised against getting a lover’s name tattooed on your body, “your name will be on me forever because that’s how long I’m going to love you.”

Her fingernails dug into your skin, framing the word you’d had put on your body. It made sense, given she had sunk beneath your skin and was never leaving. She was as much a part of you as your own heart.

“You love me?” she asked, her voice a rasp.

You looked down at her, a hand cupping her cheek, the other tangling in her hair the way you loved to do. Blue eyes swam with something, so beautiful and so heartbreaking. You lent forward until your forehead pressed to hers.

“I do. I love you,” you said.

Her lips pressed to yours, desperate and needy. You bent over her, kissing her back just as desperately, the anxiety finally soothing in your stomach. There was no chance she was ending things when she was dragging you down, her tongue in your mouth, her fingers grasping you hard enough to hurt. You hummed, pushing her back, laying her back on the mattress.

“I’ll be with you forever,” you said before your lips trailed down her throat.

She whimpered, a surprisingly vulnerable sound from her. Your tongue tasted her skin before you sucked on her pulse point. Her head tilted back, giving you more access as her nails scraped down your back.

Your fingers played with the tie of her robe, her body warm beneath you. She made such a soft noise as you dragged your mouth lower, nipping at her collarbone, tongue dipping into the divot between. Her nails dug in to the skin of your back, points of pain only making you pant against her skin.

“What are you doing, kitten?” she asked, voice soft as you laved attention on her body.

“Showing you how much I love you,” you replied, lips brushing skin as you whispered the words, “let me show you. Let me take care of you for once.”

Your eyes met hers. The hesitation was obvious. If there was one thing you knew about Agatha Harkness, it was that she hated giving up control. But all you wanted to do was make her feel good. Prove that she should keep you around forever. That you weren’t going anywhere. That she was yours as much as you were hers. That your name should be inked onto her skin too.

Her fingertips ran over your cheekbone before she nodded. You grinned, lowering your mouth back to her skin as your fingers pulled the knot free. Silk slipped either side of her body, baring her to you. You might have had her sitting on your face the night before, but you would never grow tired of seeing her naked body. She was beautiful, a piece of poetry spread out on the mattress for your eyes only.

You were slow as you dragged your hands up over her ribs, cupping her breasts. She sighed, a soft noise, arching into your touch. You spent so much time there, kissing and licking at her skin. She writhed beneath you, softly mewling. When her hands tried to guide you lower, you caught them.

Her growl as you tied them above her head only made you smile.

“Do you want to tell me why you missed my graduation?” you asked, fingers pinching at her nipples.

She moaned, pressing further into your touch, but not answering your questions. You let it go, wanting to assuage your anxiety by making her cum on your tongue. Further proof that she was yours, completely and utterly.

You sucked a slow hickey into the skin on her hip, feeling her wriggle beneath you. With her tied up, and her consent to take care of her, you were going to take your time with her. You were in control this time. She was going to be moaning your name until she forget any other words.

Your fingers were gentle as the dragged up her legs, finding the soft skin of her inner thigh. Your lips wrapped around one nipple, tongue flicking over it. She huffed, but her body was arching towards you, offering herself so nicely for your touch. You hummed, muffled against her skin, feeling her breath catch.

You grasped her thighs, parting them to slot yourself between them. Hovering over her, you took a moment to gaze on her. Squirming, her eyes were hooded, lips parted, cheeks flushed. Blue eyes watched you, smouldering, and you grinned.

“Do you understand how beautiful you are?” you murmured, thumb digging into the crease of her hip.

Her legs fell further open, welcoming you in, urging you closer. You slid further down her body, lips pressing to soft skin, feeling the way her muscles flexed under you. Your tongue tasted the salt on her skin, revelling in her warmth, in how wonderful it felt to get your mouth on her.

“Relax,” you murmured, “let me take care of you.”

She grumbled, but with your hands stroking over her skin, she began to relax under your touch. You wanted to feel her melt into the mattress, to let you take control, to make her feel the way she made you feel. Safe, taken care of, satiated.

Your fingers slid through her folds, feeling her wetness gathering on your fingertips. Her hips pressed up towards you, a wordless command. With your free hand, you pinned her down, exploring her without giving her quite what she wanted. You were going to make her desperate for you. You might even get her to beg.

That would be fun.

Your finger was slow to circle her clit, watching the way her face flushed, the way her breath stuttered, the way her fingers clenched above her head. There was something so lovely about the way her face contorted in pleasure. You would paint a picture of it, hang it in every room you were in, gaze upon it.

“Pet, stop teasing,” she commanded.

“Uh uh,” you said, “you’re not in charge anymore, Professor Harkness.”

The way her legs tightened around you was interesting.

“You like that, huh? You like being fucked by your student? You like when I turn the tables on you?”

Your lips brushed against the skin of her stomach, feeling the muscles jump.

“Want me to call you Professor Harkness as I’m knuckles deep inside you?” you murmured.

The noise she made was delicious.

“I wish they could all see this,” you said, finger resting at her entrance, “see the formidable Professor Harkness begging to be fucked by her star pupil.”

“I’m not.” Her breath caught, “I’m not begging.”

“Not yet,” you promised.

Your tongue ran through her folds, groaning at her taste. Her hips jumped towards your mouth. Your hands slid up her legs, holding them open, hands grasping hard enough to leave bruises on her pretty pale skin. You loved the thought of your handprints on her skin for anyone to see.

Your tongue circle over her clit. Your name was command, but it was shaky. You ignored it, finger dipping into her entrance. Pressing your tongue against her clit, you let her grind against your face for a moment, just long enough to let her think she’d gotten her way.

Your finger pushed in as you drew away. Your teeth sunk into her inner thigh, soft skin sweet on your lips. Her keening noise was beautiful, a symphony to your ears.

“Do you think they’d get a kick out of this? Watching their professor squirm?” you asked her, “do you think they’d like to know you you’re nothing but a desperate little thing?”

“Shut up,” she growled.

“That doesn’t sound like someone who wants to cum,” you said.

You took your hand from between her legs, using the grip on her legs to keep them open, her hot cunt exposed to your gaze. She glistened in the soft light, so pretty, so beautiful.

“If you want to, beg,” you told her, “or don’t you want this, Professor Harkness?”

She glared at you, blue eyes flashing. You waited, having learnt patience at her hand. She’d taught you plenty of lessons during the last year. Now it was time to show her through a practical demonstration.

“Please,” she said eventually, through gritted teeth, jaw tense.

“Tell me, Professor,” you said, leaning forward again, breath ghosting over her glistening folds, “do you think any of them would find you terrifying after seeing you like this?”

Your lips wrapped around her clit before she could say anything, her sass unnecessary when all you wanted was to ruin her. Your name was sweet on her lips as she moaned, hips bucking up into your mouth. You let her, figuring it was time for her to get a little bit more. Just enough to take the edge off. Just enough to drive her crazy.

Your fingers were slow to push into her. Her whimper was so delicious you wanted to drink it in. You hummed, her legs tightening around your head, thighs trying to clamp down on you. Your free hand pried them open again, giving yourself more room.

“Do you think your students would like to know how pretty you look when you’re all whiney and desperate for me?” you asked, fingers curling inside her.

“Don’t be a brat,” she hissed.

“I bet they’d love to know the great Professor Harkness loves being tied up and fucked by her star pupil. I’m sure they’d enjoy watching you come undone so easily by someone just like them,” you said.

“You’re nothing like them,” she ground out.

“No, because none of them will ever get the chance to touch you like this.” Your palm ground against her clit, “none of them will ever know how sweet you taste.”

“Never,” she gasped.

You curled your fingers again, rewarding her. Your name fell from her lips, a whine unlike anything you’d ever heard from her before. A rush of power went through you, heady and addictive. To have a woman like this desperate for you, letting you do this for her, willing to be yours completely and utterly.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmured.

Her shape inhale made you you grin against the skin of her hipbone. Your teeth nipped at her, your chuckle lost in the loud moan low in her throat, straining against her restraints. Your lips returned to her clit, sucking gently. Her hips pressed up into your mouth.

You felt as her internal walls began to flutter around your fingers. Curling and twisting your fingers, you sucked harshly until she clamped down on you. You eased her through it, slowing your thrusts until she went limp against the mattress. Your tongue lapped at her, cleaning her up. The soft noise she made, shifting underneath you, was delicious.

You drew back, sitting on your heels as you stared down at her. Her eyes were hooded, a lazy smile on her face as she looked back at you. Crawling up her body, you kissed her, letting her taste herself on your tongue. You were careful as you untied her wrists, gently rubbing at them, helping the blood flow back into her fingers.

“Proud of yourself, pet?” she asked.

You sat beside her, leaning back against the headboard, pulling her body against you. Your fingers played with the ends of her hair, wild and dark and wonderful. Your lips pressed to her forehead.

“Very proud,” you said, “mainly because I’m yours.”

She chuckled, but she pressed closer, bare skin against bare skin. You shimmied out of your shorts, kicking them off the bed. Her legs tangled with yours, half draped over you.

“You were really going to let me walk out and never see you again?” you asked.

“I’m not desperate enough to beg you to stay,” she replied.

“You wouldn’t fight for me?” You were surprised by how much that thought hurt.

“I know how that ends. Everyone leaves me,” she said.

Her face pressed into the crook of your neck, hidden from view. Agatha had never been one to indulge in self pity but you couldn’t ignore the tone of her voice. Your hand stroked down her spine, feeling her wiggle closer.

“I won’t,” you said, “I won’t ever leave you.”

The soft noise she made had your heart squeezing painfully. You tightened your arms around her, wanting to absorb her into your being, not able to get close enough.

“I should have been there today,” she said, lips brushing your skin with every word whispered.

“Yes, you should have,” you said.

“I wanted to be there but…” She emerged to look at you, lifting herself enough to stare right into your eyes, “I didn’t want to watch the moment you realised you got exactly what you wanted from me and had no use for me anymore.”

“That’s never going to happen,” you said.

Her eyes dragged down your body again, focusing on the dark ink on your skin, her name a part of you now. Dragging her fingertip over it, tracing each letter like it was something precious, you watched her tongue drag along her lower lip. You rolled, giving her more access to the tattoo.

“I’m yours completely,” you said, voice soft, “I can’t live without you, Agatha. Please don’t send me away. The only place I want to be is wherever you are.”

With anyone else, it would be too intense of a thing to say, but everything with Agatha was intense. Every moment, every feeling, every sentiment. It was overwhelming, all consuming, and everything you wanted. She was everything you wanted.

“How did I get so lucky to find you?” she asked, voice so full of awe.

“You must have been a very good girl,” you said said, grinning at her.

Her nails dragged over your skin before she pinched you, right beneath your new ink. You laughed, pulling her down onto you. It was muffled against her lips as she kissed you. She climbed onto you, straddling your waist. Her fingers splayed over your ribs, keeping contact with your tattoo as her tongue delved into your mouth.

“I want you here with me,” she whispered against your lips as if it was a confession, one that could not be spoken in the harsh light of day.

Your hands ran up her bare thighs before you gripped her hips. She drew back, her hair a curtain between you and the rest of the world. You gazed up at her, so full of something you couldn’t put into words, burning as bright as the stars and as breathtaking as the coldest winter air. Her hand tightened over your ribs, almost bruising as she stared down at you.

“Then I’m going nowhere,” you said.

You waited for her to assess you, those blue eyes darting over your face as if looking for falsehoods. It wasn’t the first time, her assessing gaze familiar to you. It broke your heart that she was constantly on the lookout for lies, that she had been taught everyone would lie to her, that people wanted to hurt her.

You would make every single one of them feel the pain they’d caused her tenfold.

“You’re sure?” she asked.

Your hands cupped her face, gentle and yet demanding. You wanted her looking at you as you told her what she needed to hear, no hiding behind her hair or behind a book. No deflecting. No ability to brush it off.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. You’re the only thing that matters in the world. Everything else can burn as long as you remain. My life means nothing without you. You’re all I see,” you said.

Her face broke open into something you hadn’t seen before. Hope and longing and something so soft your heart ached. This wasn’t the fierce Professor Harkness you’d heard about, nor the dismissive woman you’d met all those months ago. Gone were the spikes and self defence and sharp tongue. You thought this might be the real woman under the harsh exterior. Someone desperate to be loved but who had been hurt over and over again until her scars were all she could see.

You’d never loved her more.

“I love you,” she breathed out, her face full of wonder and surprise, and a touch of anxiety as if bracing for her words to be what ended your own feelings.

Instead, your ribcage cracked open, your heart growing in ways you hadn’t thought it could. You’d thought she might love you, her actions enough to give you hope, but to hear the words on her own lips ruined you.

Surging up, you captured her lips in a searing kiss. Pouring every emotion in your body into the kiss, you held her close, like she was something precious, and something you were desperate not to lose. She whimpered, pressing closer, this kiss unlike any you’d shared before. You would live in this moment forever if you could.

When she drew back, there was a light to her, a glow you’d never seen before. It was as if something in her had relaxed. You were in awe, unsure how you’d gotten lucky enough to get her attention. You were nothing in comparison to her. And yet somehow, she’d chosen you and she loved you.

You were the luckiest person in the world.

“I hope you know you’re never getting rid of me now, kitten,” she said, lips pulling up into an impish grin.

“Good.” You rolled, flipping her onto her back, hovering over her, “because I’m going nowhere.”

You spent until dawn proving it to her.

[trulyhblue]

Bf Leah being wound up after a bad game and takes control. Smut pls!!!!

BLED BLUE

leah williamson x chelsea! reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, humiliation, dom/sub dynamics, age gap (legal + consensual), hate sex, enemies w/ benefits, rough, coarse language.

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Part of you wondered how long it would take Leah to take you home. There was not an ounce of blue in her body, taken only by the lifelong allegiance to North London, but the thought of you, a blue-born Chelsea girl, taking up the space under her sheets, was addictive.

Chelsea were the better team. Always was, and always will be. The Blues were better at everything. Their players were more advanced, their game plans had been executed to perfection. Arsenal were sloppy, poor, and unjust. It was embarrassing to the point where it stood out as entertaining to you. Seeing the almighty, reigning Arsenal fall on their knees and succumb to the superiority of your team was endearing, and you found yourself searching for the thrill increasingly more as the game progressed.

And the sight of the woman you hated oh so much angered by the defeated notion of the final whistle was your idea of an indescribable victory.

“What a shame, Williamson.” You snagged, clutching the fabric at your hips, looking down at her bent figure. “I thought you’d play well.”

“Ah, it is you.” She replied with just as much spite. “I thought I saw someone falling flat on their face. Makes sense now that I know it was you.”

You smirked, folding your arms over your chest. “Yeah, tried to show my humility… y’know, after scoring two goals tonight I thought it was only necessary.”

Leah scoffed, straightening her posture to display her authoritative height over you. “Both off deflections… sounds brilliant.”

“Player of the match worthy.” You bit back, stepping forward, pressing your chest against hers, suppressing the heat in your face. “Don't worry, I’ll make sure to credit your own goal in the interview.”

“Always have an excuse to talk about me. Can't stop, can you?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“I don't think of you.” Leah shook her head, grabbing the hem of your shorts and fiddling with them persistently. “But if I did, I’d be sure to let you know.”

“If only I cared enough to hear it.” You tutted, not really caring about the openness of your situation. The stadium was still quite full, with both of your teammates lingering on the field. Fans were banking the barricade, no doubt looking for the two of you.

“I could tell you now if you’d like.”

“Aw, are you thinking of me now, Williamson?”

You felt Leah’s hand move to the inside of your thigh, pressing a tight pinch to gain any type of reaction from you. Biting your lip, you hoped that the post-game redness covered your blush.

“I bet you love the thought of people watching this, don't you?” She asked, glaring at you with such hatred that her words felt bittersweet. “Always so desperate for attention that you’d do it in front of everyone. Fucking needy.”

“You’re the one touching me.” In anger, you snapped. You didn't like the way Leah seemed so confident, so right in what she was saying. You wanted to be right. You were the one who won it for your team. You were better than her. She needed to realise that.

The only separation between the two of you was by your arms crossed over your chest. Leah was drawing furious patterns along your thigh, pressed up against you with her face above you, your height earning her to look down.

“Pull away then.” She uttered, now pulling you into a hug. You knew this would send fans into a spiral. Everybody knew about your rivalry with Leah. It was evident in the tackles, the cards, the teams, the games, the interactions. This was unclaimed territory. You had both teased each other after the games. There was always fire and spite, anger and resentment, but never contact. She told you to pull away, and by the tension that lingered, if you did she would let you have there was something else there. You felt it between your legs, running down your spine, making your core yearn.

It was in the way she kept her hand in between your thighs, deepening her fingers just below where you needed her most. She held you tight, closing any physical gap, forcing your arms to circle her waist as she wrapped her spare arm around the name on the back of your shoulders. You don't know why, but you held her back just as tight, breathing heavily when she started moving her fingers upwards.

“So tense.” She spat, rubbing your shoulder.

You shook her arm off, keeping the contact but still resistant. “I pulled it at training, of course it is.”

“Wasn't talking about your shoulder, baby.” She chuckled, her voice sending goosebumps down your neck. “In those thighs. Clenching them so hard and I'm hardly touching ‘em.”

That was when you knew your cheeks were burning.

There was a hint of humiliation in your tone, but your anger was still prevalent. “I didn't even notice your hand.”

“Yeah, alright.” Williamson grinned, pulling away. You felt the cold air nip your cheeks at the sudden loss of contact. Her fingers were no longer soothing the ache in between your legs. “Alright, baby, no, all that flushed cheeks from the big game, hm? Breathing so heavily cause you scored two goals, is that you’re so wet for me?”

“I’m not— you're so—”

Leah stepped away again, and you were too stupid to step forward in response. “God, is that what you're gonna sound like in the interview? You a mess, Baby, really. All flustered and red.”

“I'm not red.” You snapped. “And stop calling me baby. You're only four years older than me.”

Leah could see straight through you. “But you love that though.” She saw straight past your visible persona. “Why don't you show me how mature you are then? Can't call you baby if you prove that you're not.” She could tell by your flustered state, your wide eyes and your tainted disposition that you were struggling to handle the conversation.

“I don't need to prove anything to you. I just won the match. That's enough to prove that I'm better anyway.”

“But you needed help to get there, didn't you?” She retorted. “It’s not your name on the score sheet, it's mine. Look,” she pointed up to the screen, almost condescendingly, above the stands, where WILLIAMSON (OG) was printed boldly in white below the score. “All that hard work and I still get the mention.”

There was a fight for dominance, but the fight was so clearly won when you audibly gulped, unable to come up with just enough answer to compel yourself into a deeper state of anger. If anything, you were willing to resort to forbidding, but you were stubborn and bled blue.

“You’re just mad that you lost and we won. Chelsea was always better anyway, and you were just too slow… bet that's always the case.”

Leah’s jaw clicked, her lips settling into a thin line.

“In what case?” She muttered distinctly.

“You know what case.” You failed to notice the challenge, finding yourself in a superior position of confidence to realise the hole you were digging for yourself. “Slow and boring… on and off the pitch. You definitely get around, but you never seem to see one person twice. Maybe that's because they don't want to see you.”

Leah grabbed your wrist, yanking you off the field. It was a tradition that you would see the fans after every game, so you tugged back in retaliation.

She pivoted to face you, glaring at you with so much affliction that you yearned for more.

“You seem really interested in how I ‘get around’. Sounds like you wish it was you.”

No matter how hard your body was willing to succumb to her words, you stood firm by scoffing, rolling your eyes at her cockiness. “If only I was so desperate.”

“I’ll show you just how desperate I can get you.” The captain spat, holding your forearm now, easily leading you further down the tunnel where fans or players could no longer find you. “Didn't even properly touch you before and you were a needy mess.”

“You’re always so fucking sure of yourself, aren't you, Williamson?” You snapped back, hearing the clad of your boots fail to drown out your ungrateful tone. You did not care for what Leah was so keen to impress you with. Never had anyone told you that Leah did not impress. She was determined to make sure everyone was supplied with the right things for their needs. She valued giving pleasure over receiving. But if there was one thing she hated, it was brats like you.

You stood outside the Chelsea changing rooms, your kit still adorned on your figure.

“Go get your shit.” She snarled, letting go of your arm and jabbing you forward.

You scoffed, stopping dead in your tracks. “And what? You're gonna wait for me and drop me home? I have a license, Williamson, I'm not your fucking—”

You couldn't finish your rant, yelping when Leah cut you off, grabbing the collar of your shirt and mashing her lips against yours. One of her legs found its way between yours, her knee pushing against your core. A moan fell from your lips, and the woman wasted no time in slipping her tongue in, caging your figure between you and the wall.

She waited until you were kissing her back before grabbing your neck. She instantly moved down to litter harsh kisses down the nape of your neck, using her hands to move underneath your shirt, massaging your breasts. You were a mess beneath her, breathing heavily when the pressure on your clit intensified when her knee started rubbing patterns up and down.

“Swear at me again and see how it turns out for you.” She muttered in your ear, relishing the whines that fell from your lips as her knee continued its work. “If I tell you to grab your bag, that's what you do, yeah? You understand, Chelsea?”

The nickname left you shrinking, her words making your core glisten. You weren't completely sure whether the Arsenal girl was planning on taking you home. You didn't understand why you were all of a sudden pretty much moaning at the friction of her knee.

But you weren't fucking complaining.

“My teammates are in there.”

Leah let out a laugh. “You had no problem letting me touch you in a filled Stanford Bridge, Babygirl. I think it’d be healthy if your teammates realised who fucks their Stargirl after a home game.”

“You haven't fucked me, yet.” Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the thought of the England captain fucking you sending you into a spiral.

“Go get your bag and then I can use that pretty mouth for something other than moaning my last name… not that I mind when you do that.”

You wasted no time in doing as you were told, forever thankful that all of your teammates were either still interacting with fans or showering. You grabbed all of your stuff and quickly followed Leah over to the away changing rooms.

She let you walk through, since none of the girls were present, grabbing your belongings and chucking them inside her cubby. You felt her figure cage you back into the nearest wall, her hands how playing with the hem of your shirt, inching it further up your waist until it was completely disregarded, and you were left in your sports bra and shorts.

“Why so quiet?” Leah asked, kissing down the column of your neck, fondling your breasts. You sighed at the growing ache in your core, throwing your head back when Leah’s knee came back into contact with your clit.

“Some— someone’s going to walk in.”

Leah snorted. “Like you would mind.”

You huffed, grabbing the back of her neck and pushing her head further down your body. Leah’s knee stopped in return, leaving you writhing at the loss of pressure.

“Use your words or you can get off yourself.”

“Like you could get me off.” You retorted.

“I don't make brats cum.” She spat, moving back up to tower over you. “I edge them until they’re desperate and getting themself off my thigh. I treat them like brats, and maybe you need to work a little fucking harder for what you want.”

“You were just teasing me!”

“You're just desperate.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Leah.” There it was. Music to her ears.

“What?”

You whined, using your hips to drag yourself along her knee.

“What was that, Baby? Couldn't hear you under all those whines.”

“Leah, c’mon.” You stated potently, getting more impatient by the minute. “I'm not begging.”

The number six shrugged, looking down at you with wide, innocent eyes like she had no clue what you were going on about. Like she didn't even realise that you were humping her leg longing for some relief.

“Begging for what?” She moved her finger painstakingly down your chest, tracing your abs ever so slowly.

“For you.”

“For me?” She questioned, feigning confusion. Her hand dipped into the waistband of your shorts, circling your clit over your underwear. “Answer me, Darling. What do you want me to do? I'm touching you.”

“Touch me more.”

Leah tutted, moving her hand away. You groaned, throwing your head back when no pleasure was offered. “I'm afraid that's not how you ask. It might get you somewhere at Chelsea, but at Arsenal, we treat our Captains with respect. Even our star girls use their manners in the North end.”

“Touch me more, please.”

“Where, Chelsea?” Leah moved closer to you, peeling off her own shirt, removing your shorts, leaving you in your underwear and bra. “Be a good girl and tell me where.” She asked, her body lowering itself closer to the ground. You watched her kneel before you, hands gripping your waist, kneading your hips, lips biting your inner thigh.

“My clit, Lee, please. I need you to touch me there.”

“Such a good girl for your Captain, aren't you?” Leah ran her tongue along your folds, your underwear pooled at your feet. Your legs were swung over her shoulders, your hands buried in her hair, pulling taunt to her ponytail and the hairs that had fallen out during the game. Your moans were still muffled by the bite in your lips, the nerves of someone hearing your desperation for your enemy is still evident in the way you kept your mouth shut.

It was when Leah’s tongue latched onto your clit, sucking harshly on the swollen bud that your noises fell so adamantly from your reddened lips. You felt Leah’s cocky smile, her chuckles sending vibrations of pleasure through your body.

“Sound so pretty, Baby.”

“Leah— fuck, Lee. I'm gonna—”

“You’re going to hold it. Taste so good, you can wait.”

The coil in your stomach was forming long before Leah had even started, and the more Leah attacked your bud, the more your orgasm led to burst. Your moans had doubled in volume when one of her hands came up to play with your nipple, pinching it and playing with the nub every time her tongue licked up your folds. Her other hand worked its way through your pussy, spreading your slick all over your thighs, letting it run down your shaking legs and make your skin glisten with the glossy arousal.

“Want Stanford to hear you,” Leah spoke from below you. You whined at the thought. You were in a state of pure bliss that all cautionary thoughts of interruption were so far gone. All you could think about was Leah’s face between your legs.

“Feels so good, Lee. Want to cum so bad for you.”

“You can hold it, baby.”

“Mh, Lee, please.”

Leah moaned at your whines, nuzzling her nose up against your clit, pinching your nipple hard, reeling at the moan you let out in response. She saw the way your hole clenched around nothing, smirking at the way you rolled your hips across her face, working your pussy into her mouth so easily. She felt powerful knowing she had you at her disposal. You were stunning always, but there was something about you now that set Leah off. It made her angry knowing that you weren't hers to fuck at her discretion. It made her protective over you in ways she had never felt before. You were Chelsea’s protege — everyone worried when going up against you.

“Leah.”

It wasn't like something had changed, but Leah had realised that her hate was actually protection and adoration. She wanted you for herself. She wanted to steer you away from anyone that would hurt you. She hated Chelsea, she despised the West side more than anything, and it wasn't the sex that made her realise this.

“Leah.”

It was her name coming from your lips.

“Cum for me, Baby.”

That was all you needed to hear before you were barreling over the edge, your legs relying entirely on the strength of Leah’s upper body to keep you balanced. Your moans exemplified the stimulation of your orgasm riding out, and Leah’s endeavours to lick the result of it up as it poured into her mouth and onto your thighs.

The woman made sure you had somewhat caught your breath before she moved, having a moment to catch her own breath and comprehend what just happened. When she knew you were able to stand independently, she moved over to her cubby, grabbing the baby wipes she always had handy, moving back down to her knees to clean the mess across your legs as you covered your chest back with your jersey, and later your shorts.

Leah moved to do the same, except she watched as you fumbled with what to do. She gave you a pointed look as if to question your thinking, and you simply sighed and waddled over to her, slight humiliation at your wobbly legs painting your cheeks as you grabbed your bag.

“You all good, Baby?” She asked, her voice no longer authoritative and rather empathetic.

“Yeah, thanks.” You nodded. “Erm… sorry for being… rude… actually I'm not sorry but I am.”

“Yeah, same,” Leah replied a cheeky grin settled on her complexion. “I think we can settle for friendly rivalry from now on.”

“If that's what you call this, then sure.” You added, laughing along with what to make of the situation, feeling more out of place than ever in the middle of the Arsenal room. “I better go.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

“Lee, I've got my license—”

“It wasn't a question, Chelsea.”

You stood there defeated, knowing internally that you had no way home after Millie had driven you to the stadium and would have left by now anyway. Leah must’ve known that by the way she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her chest.

“Besides, wouldn't want that Player of The Match Trophy getting forgotten now, would we?”

_________________

A/N — bad ending but oh well… HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!

[bullet-prooflove]

Daywalker: John Shen x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @miraclesabound @cannonindeez @fadeinsol @nommingonfood @yousigned-upforthis

Companion piece to:

Dick Pics - You and John discuss your dating life in the ambulance bay during a rare shift break.

Brunch - John refuses to give up when you miss brunch with him.

Silly Little Boys (NSFW) - John's not like the other men you've been with.

In The Summer - You discover John's secret.

Tiger, Tiger - John reveals the truth between his engagement and his history.

Jack - John's mother opens up old wounds by giving John a copy of your DCFS file.

Bare (NSFW) - John and you commit to each other in a special way.

The Shirt - Jack realises that you're wearing a boyfriend shirt.

Tradition - Mrs Shen makes a decision regarding the wedding.

Thanksgiving in The Pitt is batshit fucking crazy.

Bust ups, burns, accidently amputated appendages, the list goes on. The waiting room heaves to capacity, the ambulance bay is an endless stream of drop offs. Each doctor is turning over five patients an hour, getting them situated in the halls because food poisoning is the leading cause of illness during this holiday and the majority of them need drips due to dangerous levels of dehydration.

Throughout the chaos John catches glimpses of your presence, a flash of that neat bun, the sound of your voice carrying across the room, your signature on some of his intake paperwork. They’re the only signs of your existence during the nightmare shift.

It’s 4am when he finally gets a break, he takes a leak before heading out to the ambulance bay in his scrubs, sucking in a deep breath of cool, refreshing as soon as he steps onto the concrete.

You’re already waiting for him at your usual spot by the wall, there’s a brown paper bag alongside you with two plastic cups of cold brew coffee. Your rig is parked just to the right, the sounds of you partner’s snoring from the back echoing through the lot.

“I gotta warn you now.” You say as he approaches. “No hugs, I stink of vomit and other indescribable substances.”

“You think I care about that?” John asks placing his hands on his hips and tipping his head towards the E.D. “It’s like Saint Patrick’s Day all over again in there, I’m completely desensitised at this point.”

You roll your eyes to the heavens, stepping towards him. “Well played, you know I’m a goner for that slutty little hip thing you do.”

His arms wrap around you, drawing you into the shelter of his form. You fit against him perfectly, like two pieces of a shattered vase being reacquainted. His lips brush over your temple and he can feel the tension ebb out of your body as he cradles you close.

You’ve been away over the last few days in Seattle at the Paramedic Professional Development Conference. This is the first time he’s laid eyes on you since you’d gotten back into town because the day shift had gotten overwhelmed and he’d had to come in early.

“I’ve missed you.” He mumbles into your hair. “None of the other paramedics are nearly as much fun.”

Your chest vibrates with laugher against his and he can’t help but smile at the sensation as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

“You mean none of the others bring you coffee and turkey subs at four in the morning.” You point out and he shrugs his shoulders in response.

“They aren’t as cute either.”

“Yea, I know.” You say, taking his hand and leading him towards the wall. The two of you take a seat before unwrapping your sandwiches. “Trust me Chicago Fire has given the public some very unrealistic expectations in that department. You won’t believe how many people have been disappointed by the lack of hot firemen pulling up tonight.”

“Same here with Grey’s Anatomy. Although Abbot did get called McSteamy and Grumpy Daddy tonight so that was very entertaining.” He takes a bite from the sub and moans. “Christ have I told you how much I adore you recently?”

“Not nearly enough.” You tease, nudging his shoulder. “You’ll have to worship me when we get off shift, remind me why I keep coming around.”

“The videos I sent when you were away weren’t enough?” He counters, balling up the packaging between his hands and tossing it into the brown paper bag. “Me fucking the panties you left on my pillow?”

Your cheeks flush as you bite your lower lip and it’s just the sweetest damn thing.

“Did you give anymore thought to the other thing we were talking about?” He asks you, picking up his cold brew and sipping through the straw. “The Field Training Officer position?”

“Hm.” You respond noncommittedly. “Had a conversation with Anderson before I left Seattle about the program. It would mean changing my shift for a few months so I could fit the course in during the evening time and I’m not sure how much I’d like being a day walker.”

A day walker, it’s what the night shift people call those that make the transition back to regular office hours. It can be a jarring adjustment after you’ve spent so long in the darkness.

John doesn’t think that’s the real issue though. He suspects you’re concerned about how your life is going to change compared to that of the people around you.  Abbot, Faye, him, all work the nightshift and altering the routine will throw you out of sync with the support network you’ve build up over the years. You fear becoming isolated again, that they won’t be able to find time for you.

“Cici.” He says softly, his fingers threading through yours. “My feelings won’t change because you’re working the day shift, we can still do breakfast or dinner, find the sweet spot when we’re not working weekends. Our relationship will adapt, the same way it will with Abbot and Faye, nobody’s going to abandon you because you’re trying something new.”

“It’s just… it’s a big change.” You say quietly, poking at the ice in your drink with the straw.

“Change can be good even if it is a little scary.” He reassures you, his thumb tracing soothing circles along the back of your hand. “I know you’re going to rock this and I promise I will be here to support you. Quizzing you, feeding you, helping you to ‘destress’.”

The edges of your mouth tip up into a smile before you tilt your head towards hm.

“You really think I can do it?” You ask him and John’s palm comes to cradle your face, his thumb ghosting over that tiny scar just at the edge of your right eye.

“Cici.” He says firmly. “I think you can do anything you god damn want to.”

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[velvetcrimsonkisses]

HELLO OFFICER - NANAMI KENTO !

2nd kinktober fic 🕷

Cw: handcuffs ofc, backshots, dom nanami to sub (kinda), obviously cosplay, he's not a real cop.

Masterlist Discord

“Hello, officer,” the words fall sweetly from your lips as you lay back on the bed. Sinking deeper into the mattress as you soak up the view in front of you. An amused giggle escapes you, betraying the self-control you had been clinging to. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you realize how much it gave away. 

No, Nanami didn’t understand how this was turning you on—at least, not fully. But the look in your eyes and the way you giggled and perked up at the sight of him was good enough for him to keep up this little act. 

He stood before you, dressed in the tightest cop uniform imaginable. The material stretched across his broad chest and arms, the seams straining ever so slightly against his frame—because, as you’d explained, it was the largest size you could find on such short notice, or so that’s what you told him. You wondered if he knew better, if he saw through that little excuse you’d given him. The uniform hugged him almost too well, every dip and curve of his perfectly sculpted body highlighted by the fabric. 

And his pants... oh, his pants. The way the fabric clung to his waist, snug and tight, accentuating everything, especially down there. It was nothing short of heavenly, the belt cinched at his hips, the finest black leather, each movement drawing your eyes lower. You couldn’t tear your gaze away. Every detail about him was working against you—the feeling of growing tension coiling tighter and tighter in the pit of your stomach down to your cunt. 

His hand comes to your knee, sensually letting it trail up your thigh. He makes his way on top of you, hovering over you. His mere presence is overwhelming; the musky smell of his cologne fills your senses, and your body reacts instantly. It was intoxicating, paired with the warmth of his hands on you. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing over your ear, his hot breath against it. 

“Having fun, aren’t you, sweet thing?” His voice was deep and low, a velvety whisper dripping softly into your ears. Your eyes shut close as he speaks. Your chest rose and fell more quickly now, your breath hitching as his words sank in. Your legs shifted beneath him, rubbing your thighs together, the wetness pooling there, hot and undeniable. He has no clue how wet you are right now—or at least not yet. 

You manage to nod, uttering a soft yes under your breath, a soft smirk spreading across your lips and his. 

“Have you been a good girl lately?” he teases, obviously keeping up with the act. His thumb grazing your inner thigh as his eyes lock with yours. Your stomach felt like it was doing flips, heat flooding to your core as you bit your lip. The act, the teasing—it was all just a game—but it was a game you were more than willing to play.

“Maybe,” you giggle out, looking at the man before you. Your hips shifted again, involuntarily, seeking some kind of friction to ease the ache, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted him; you needed him. His skilled fingers loop into your panties, pulling them down to your ankles. His touch was teasing, featherlight, as if he were testing you, seeing how long you could last before you asked him to do something... anything.

“Look at that.” His eyes darted down to your soaking cunt. His eyes lingered for a moment, drinking in the sight as a slow, knowing grin spread across his face. “You’ve been naughty.” His hand moved to his waist, fingers reaching for the handcuffs that hung from his belt. The metallic click of them unlocking echoed through the room, sending a jolt of anticipation straight through you. “Turn over for me, sweetheart.” 

You smile up at him before turning over onto your stomach, pressing your cheek against the mattress as your back arched just slightly, offering yourself up to him. He watched you intensely, taking in the sight of you spread out before him, and you could practically feel his gaze burning your body, studying the curve of your hips and the way your thighs pressed together. 

The soft clink of metal filled the silence, sending a shiver through you. “Hands behind your back,” he mumbled, his voice low and firm but laced with the teasing edge that seemed to linger in his tone. You giggle, and without any hesitation, you bring your hands behind you, wrists pressed together. You could hear the faint smile in his voice when he spoke again.

“Good girl…”

You turn your head to the side, looking back at him, and sure enough, he is smiling like some teenage boy. You felt the cold touch of metal against your wrists as he clicked the first cuff into place, the grip of the handcuff tightening around your skin. The second cuff snapped shut with a final, satisfying click, locking your wrists together. He takes his time adjusting them, making sure they aren’t too tight. 

“There we go.” His hands fall back to your hips, pushing you up slightly and urging you to arch your back even more for him. “Now, let's see here.” 

You barely had time to process the new change in position before his fingers trailed down to your dripping cunt, his touch deliberate and teasing. He ran them slowly up and down your wet folds, gathering the slickness there and spreading it out over your entire cunt with slowness. He wanted to make sure you were ready for him... 

“Ah—” you gasped at the sensation. His fingers, cool against the heat of your burning body, dipped inside you. His pace was slow, deep, and precise; he loved the way your body responded to him. Each movement sends a wave of pleasure over your body. You could still feel his eyes on you even though your head was now pressed into the sheets. 

The room was filled with the sounds of pleasure—soft moans and desperate whines spilling from your lips as your hips moved on their own, pushing back to meet the relentless pace of his fingers. “Greedy girl,” he playfully smacks your behind with his free hand.

Fuck, you needed him bad. The way your body ached for more, the way you clenched around his fingers, it was almost unbearable. You were so close, but you didn’t want to cum just yet. Not on his fingers; you wanted his cock. His fingers slow down gradually before pulling them out. He studied his slick-covered fingers, watching the way they glistened in the dim light with a satisfied smirk. “You liked that, didn't you?” His voice was soft, teasing as he squeezed your hip. 

“I did… but I'd like your cock more, officer.”

The words left your lips like honey. Nanami couldn’t see your face, but he just knew you were smirking. Nanami wasn’t the type of man to fuck you from behind, but maybe just today he would make an exception. He couldn’t help himself with how nice you looked, handcuffed and exposed for him.

“Stay still for me.” 

His hand comes to hold your tied wrists as his other hand slowly unbuckles his belt. The sound of it dropping to the flooring only turns you on more. He unbuttons his pants, slowly pulling down the zipper. “Such a beautiful view...” he trails off, freeing his hard cock from his boxers. He lines himself up to your entrance, teasing you with just the tip. Back and forth slowly, covering his fat tip with your slick. 

It’s not long before he’s filling you up with his cock, drilling his cock deep into you. A firm grip was still on your wrist, making sure you didn’t move, but you had no plan to escape him at all. His free hand rests on your hip, gripping it tightly because your cunt just squeezes him so good he can barely contain himself. He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes. 

You may have been the one tied up, but you were still in control. Your cunt had him in a chokehold, and he didn’t know how much more he could last. The way your ass rippled every time you met his thrust had him going insane. His breath came in heavy bursts as he struggled to maintain his composure. His eyes were glued to you, taking in the sight of your body responding to his every move. Your sweet smell fogged his brain. 

“Fuck—” he groaned, the sound rough and unrestrained, filled with a mix of desperation and awe. His pace faltered just a little—a momentary slip in his control that made you smile. You had him right in the palm of your hand. You indulged in the way he responded to you, only moving your hips faster against him.

“Baby…” 

There it was; he broke character. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer with every thrust. Hot spurts off cum shoot into you, his hips messily thrusting into as he fills you up, his whole body shuddering. The room was filled with the sounds of his heavy breathing as he gave you his last thrust before pulling out slowly. His cock is sensitive to anything right now. 

You smile at him, a playful glint in your eyes as he collapses onto the bed, his breath coming in heavy, satisfied gasps. “Uncuff me, won’t you?” you ask sweetly, as if you hadn’t just milked him dry just seconds ago. 

He nods, his expression full of exhaustion as his hands reach toward the handcuffs. You watch him, the way his fingers fumble slightly in his post-orgasm haze. “Not fair, not fair at all,” he groans, shaking his head as he finally manages to unlock the cuffs. A sense of disbelief takes over him. How easily you managed to turn the tables on him. He was merely a willing participant in your game. “You planned this all along; I was never in control,” he chuckles. 

As the metal cuffs click open and he pulls them from your wrists, you stretch your arms above your head, relieving the slight soreness in your arms. “Oh, come on. You can’t say you didn’t enjoy it,” you tease, letting your body arch in a way that draws his attention back to you.

“You’re right. But I don’t know how you managed to make me forget I was supposed to be in charge,” he replies, his voice hoarse yet teasing. He looks back down at your body before flipping you over with ease. Now, face to face, he pins you back down. “I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. I think I'll enjoy eating you up right now,” he chuckles softly. 

[foxxnier]

Hyunjin who loves to destroy his little angel

warnings: dom!hyunjin, sub!reader, he calls you angel, a little shy!reader(only when it comes to sex), edging, unprotected sex (always protect yourself!), afab reader

Hyunjin found you extremely cute. You were funny and kind, even though you were tough sometimes, especially with people you didn't like, so he found it even cuter the way you got so nervous whenever the subject of sex came up, it was fun to tease you about it.

He would look into your eyes when you started to stutter, stroking your hair, tilting his head with a confused expression, as if he didn't know what you wanted, but he did, he always knew what his little angel wanted.

"What happened?" "I can't understand you, my little angel" "Do you want me to touch you?" he would ask with a confused tone in his voice "I'm touching you, isn't that enough?"

His hands would run around your neck, enjoying the way you felt so good with his fingers in that place, then he would wrap his hand around your neck, squeezing lightly when you finally said that you wanted him to have sex with you.

"Why didn't you say so before?"

Hyunjin would kiss you, your body softening under the kiss, his hand on your neck, forming such a beautiful necklace, he loved it.

He would take off your clothes so slowly, only for you to ask him to go faster, not heeding the request you made, Hyunjin will do things this way until you really can't wait any longer and cry, begging.

Hyunjin would stick his fingers in your pussy already wet with anticipation, he hadn't done anything yet, you are so hopelessly pathetic, he loves this.

He would hit that sweet spot, the one that made you scream when he finally did it and squeeze his fingers with your insides. Hyunjin would play with your clit skillfully, making sure to draw every pleasurable sound out of you.

"You're almost coming, huh?" "Don't come, not yet." "Can you do this for me, my little angel?"

He would say, kissing your neck and starting to play with your breast, the movements of his fingers continuing even faster.

When he realized that you couldn't hold back, he stopped, interrupting your upcoming orgasm by taking his fingers out of you, licking them with a smile on his face as he saw your frustrated look at him.

"Good angel." "My good angel."

He would take off his own clothes, leaving you on his lap, his erect cock hitting against your belly, Hyunjin would hear you whining for him to put himself inside you, he would see the way you rub yourself against him, trying to have some more friction. You were so desperate rubbing yourself against him, he loved seeing his little angel like this, so impure, so naughty, so dirty.

"My angel, my naughty angel, so desperate." "Do you want me to fuck you?" "Sink my cock into you?"

"Ah, I'll do it with pleasure." He would lift you up, lowering you onto his cock with everything, making you scream, he would moan in your ear feeling you squeeze his cock, one hand on your neck and the other on your back, holding you against him.

Hyunjin would look at you and god, he adores you. It's like he was made only to appreciate you, admire you, look at your face with all the love you deserved to receive.

He loved even more to appreciate the way you looked when he was inside you, you being so cunning, so tearful and so tight, he was sure you would kill him one day.

Hyunjin would lift you up and down, guiding your movements while you panted, he would moan in your ear, praise and more praise, you are so good to him, how can he not praise you?

"So tight…" "So good…" "My little angel, you're perfect." "The most perfect angel." "You make me feel so good, uh…" "You're absolutely sublime."

When you're about to orgasm, he stops, kissing your jaw as he feels you trying to move to finally have your release, but he holds you so easily, he was much stronger than you and it drives you crazy.

He laid you down, got on top of you and hugged your body, his face buried in your neck as he sank his cock into you once more, Hyunjin felt you scratch his back and shoulder, the burning made everything better, he loved it when you scratched him, marking him so much that everyone knew he was yours.

Hyunjin would go faster as he found that sweet spot once more, his thrusts becoming more desperate for you, he would pull away just enough to be able to kiss you in a way clumsy.

"Cum, my little angel." "Cum for me."

And just like that, you both came at the same time, he would pull away, watching his sperm leaving your vagina in such a beautiful way, you destroyed and panting as you looked at him.

You were stunning in every way.

He would carry you bridal style, kissing your forehead as you snuggled into his embrace.

"I'll take care of you, my little angel, don't worry."

So… yeah… once again my thoughts are full before I go to sleep, complicated

Sorry if any warnings are missing, sleep will probably make me miss something like that… And sorry for any mistakes, I'll blame sleep once again

Check out my fix if you want to make a request or see other things I've written ;D

[milla-frenchy]

Her

3k2 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: after Joel confides one of his fantasies to you one day, you make it come true Warnings: 18+ mdni. Established relationship, feelings, teasing, strap on/dildo, use of gags and ties, sub!joel, soft!joel, masturbation (f), oral (f/m), praise kink, piv, creampie

a/n: same couple: 5 days collection, but can be read alone ; Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕😘

Joel grabbed your hand when you passed by him, then hugged you. His hand roamed the curve of your back while the other was brushing your neck, holding you softly against him. You loved when he held you close, you loved feeling his chest against yours, the warmth of his skin, his softness. He breathed in your hair then your neck, before kissing you there, just below your ear. His mustache and beard brushing your skin already made you moan. You were so deeply in love with him that his mere proximity always overwhelmed you. You felt yourself melt in his embrace and you ran your fingers along his brown curls then the back of his neck, keeping him close against you. 

Then he slid his hands to your hips and gently pushed you on the dining room table, as he whispered in your ear: “Lie down on the table, sweetheart. Wanna feel you on my tongue.” The atmosphere changed, as sweetness gave way to desire, already drawing a whimper from you.

But you forced yourself to move away from him and pressed on his shoulder to make him sit down on a chair.

“You and your filthy mouth…”, you said, looking from his eyes to his lips. Your pussy was aching more since you felt his hardness against you. You did your best, trying to ignore the muffled moans of your core, which was crying for his tongue on you.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do about me and my filthy mouth, baby?”

You didn't answer, you needed to keep a cool head and not let your desire make you forget what you had in mind. And you wanted to play with him. Tease him. You walked around the chair and kissed his neck, sliding your hand from his torso to his crotch.

“Already hard, Mr Miller?”

“Well…I’ve been seeing that damn ass spinning in front of my face for 5 minutes… Course I’m hard, sweetheart.” He manspread to allow you to seize his hard cock more easily, but you pulled back, kneeling behind him. You grabbed his hands and crossed his wrists against the back of the chair. Then you took two skinny scarfs out of your pocket and used one to tie his hands together. He let you do it. You both knew your boundaries and body language perfectly, so you were sure he was ok with it. 

“Mmmm… What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna be a good boy, baby, and let me use you.”

“A good boy? Really?”

“Yeah”, you smirked. “A good, silent boy.”

You used the other scarf to cover his mouth, tying it at the back of his head. You brushed his shoulder as you came back in front of him.

“And I’m gonna play with you.”

His gaze became piercing, and you smiled when you saw his cock twitch in his jeans. 

You pulled up a chair and sat across from him, legs crossed. Sliding your calf against your bent knee. Your short skirt was hiked up to your thighs, and Joel's eyebrows were furrowed, creating several lines on his forehead.

“It makes me so horny to see you like this. Powerless. Tied and gagged. You have no idea.”

You heard him growl and you liked it, as it awakened something deep within you. So far, Joel was always in charge. Even when you rode him, when you used him, you felt power in his touch and in his eyes. And you loved it. But something else was growing in you this evening, and you were already enjoying this novelty. 

You uncrossed your legs and spread them wide, allowing Joel to see your panties. He leaned forward slightly, instinctively. Restrained by the bonds, he shook his head slowly. And god you liked it too.

“Wanna see how wet I am, Joel?” you asked, grabbing the hem of your skirt and lifting your ass slightly off the chair, before pulling it up to your waist. Your fingers brushed your thighs from your knees to the hem of your panties. You pulled them aside and asked “do you see me dripping?”

He swallowed and nodded. His eyes were fixed on you, and you read him like an open book. Part of him wanted more than anything to take back control. The other part was willing to let you manage and see how far you would go.

You also saw his love and desire for you, and it encouraged you to continue and not let certain insecurities or shyness make you doubt yourself.

“Perfect,” you added, before running a finger along your soaked pussy. “I bet you’d like to taste your pussy? Don't you?"

He tried to speak but his words were muffled by the scarf. You knew that if you released him then he would rush to you and press your chest against the table before thrusting into you roughly. But you had to wait for that, too. He would fulfill your desire a little later.

“I’m gonna have to do it myself, since you can’t”, you continued, before sucking your wet finger. Another growl came from the depth of his chest, a little more painful this time. You knew how much he loved to lap at your cunt. Often pulling multiple orgasms out of you, breathing a “one more, sweetheart. Give me one more, I know you can do that for me”, between your thighs until your limbs felt like a rag doll and you had to beg him to stop. 

“Mmmm… I understand why you like her so much, baby. Too bad you can’t taste her. Or fuck her. She'd love that. But she's gonna have to wait, just like you.”

You brushed your folds again, spreading the garment wide with your other hand. Adding more wetness to your index finger, before rubbing your clit.

“I guess I’m gonna have to make myself come, baby…”

His eyes turned black and you focused on your sensations. Touching yourself in front of him was turning you on and your pussy was dripping through your folds.

“It’s so good, baby…I’m gonna come soon. Or maybe I could play a little with a dildo? Let you watch me fuck myself on it. While your cock is just begging me to take its place.”

He mumbled something that sounded like "sweetheart" but you didn’t stop. A few more caresses were enough to make you cum, your thighs wide apart in front of him, making you close your eyes for a few seconds under the effect of your pleasure.

“Didn’t even have time to play with a sex toy…”

You pulled your panties back into place and stood up, running your finger under his nose, tormenting him with a scent that he inhaled immediately.

“You’d love to lick my finger, wouldn’t you? Feel my taste on your tongue? But not this time.”

You ran your hand through his curls, before adding, “you’re so obedient, baby…I’m proud of you.” Joel rolled his eyes and you added “I know, I know, you don’t really have a choice. Let's free that cock, baby. It must be so cramped.”

You knelt down and grabbed his worn jeans, sliding them down his thighs as he helped you by lifting his ass. The tent under his boxers made you smile. A wet stain was visible on the fabric. You slid them down and his cock stood up proudly. His tip was red and oozing.

“Oh poor baby”, you breathed. You took off the garment. His head was lowered towards his crotch, and he looked up from his cock to your eyes. Imploring.

Your thumb brushed against his slit, spreading the precum over it. The tip of your tongue licked it and his cock twitched.

“Show me that you want me to suck your cock,” you asked. Teasing him. But there wasn’t any darkness in his eyes anymore. He nodded quickly, craning his pelvis forward.

You took him into your mouth, moving up and down his shaft. Rounding your lips, and slowly progressing to accustom your mouth then your throat to his thickness. Joel’s restrained moans were sweet music to your ears. When you pulled back and licked the length of his shaft, then his balls one by one, his moans became grunts. You stopped and looked at him.

“You love it? You love how I suck your cock, baby? How I can take all of it into my mouth and throat?”

He moaned, letting you know he wanted more.

“I know, baby. But I need you to do something for me. I’ll be back in a few minutes, be good” you said, before kissing his cheek. He gave you a pleading look. “Be good, I said.”

When you came back and his gaze fell on you, if a scarf hadn't covered his mouth you would have seen his jaw drop. You were naked except for a strap on.

Communication has always been one of the pillars of your relationship. The discussion of your respective fantasies, “yes”, “no”, “maybe”, had been set up from the start.

“No judgment?” he once said. “Never, baby. We’re in a safe zone. No judgment, I swear”, you replied before kissing him gently. “OK. So… I think one day I would like to give up control. Ehm… Sexually. I don't know if I can really be submissive. But I’ve always had some fantasies, and you’re the one with whom I’d want to achieve them. If you agree.” “I am so grateful that you trust me, that we trust each other completely. Tell me more.” “Me too, sweetheart. I… I’d love to see you wear a strap on.” Your eyes sparkled when you heard him. “How would you want me to use it?” He took a deep breath and added, “I wish you were completely in charge. That you imposed things on me. And… made me suck a dildo.” The wave of desire that washed over your body in that moment was intense. “Fuck, Joel…Yeah… yeah! We’ll do it, I promise.”

You knew he was thinking about that conversation, as you had been thinking about it for several days, imagining how you wanted to make his fantasy come true and to make it perfect. And then you chose the day. Today.

His eyes traveled up and down your body, before remaining fixed on the strap on. He finally looked up at you. You pointed your chin at him, making sure he was still up for it. He nodded slowly, without an ounce of hesitation.

As you approached him, wearing only the harness and the dildo attached to it, you watched him devour you with his gaze. You stopped in front of him, the sextoy a few inches from his face. He looked up at you again, and a multitude of emotions were visible there. Desire, impatience, some shyness. Love. And you almost heard butterflies whispering “Joel, Joel, Joel” in your stomach.

“I’m gonna remove your gag now baby. Wanna see your lips.”

You untied the scarf, and Joel’s deep breathing filled the room as he was looking at the strap on. The model you chose was a medium size. You didn't want to impose a sextoy of a size equivalent to his cock. For now.

“You know what I’d love, baby? I’d love to see you on your knees for me, while you suck that cock. Will you do that?”

His eyes rose up at you and he nodded.

“Words, baby. You know the rules, right?”

He smirked, probably thinking how much he loved to see you act like him, and said, “yes”.

“So, you're gonna be a good boy for me, Joel? You’re gonna suck it, on your knees for me?”

“Fuck”, he breathed, looking at you. “Yeah, I’m gonna suck that cock.”

Hearing him created a new wave of desire in your core. Your Joel, this sexually perfect man, had so much confidence in you and your relationship that he was going to fulfill his fantasy with you. You untied him and he rubbed his wrists, then knelt. His hard cock was throbbing. You moved closer to him, the dildo in your hand, and presented it within reach of his mouth.

“Spit on it, baby. Make it wet.”

He let his saliva flow and watched it slide. “That’s good. Lick the tip, then place your lips around it.”

You placed your hand on his head as he did what you asked. Touching him tenderly, without rushing him. You could feel a lot of emotions, swirling inside his head, and you wanted him to feel good. Safe.

He licked it gently, taking his time to get used to this sensation that was new for him. Then he took the dildo into his mouth.

“Yeah, just like that. Suck it, baby.”

He looked up at you, and his feral gaze was back. Seeing him on his knees, sucking it while looking at you, was one of the hottest things you've ever seen. You cherished that he trusted himself, and you, to make his fantasy come true. Gifting you with it.

“Show me how good you are at sucking a cock, Joel. I’m so turned on right now, seeing you like that, baby.”

He licked the shaft, then took it in his mouth again, while you held the base in your hand. The other one, still on his head, brushing his curls.

“You like that, baby?”

He mumbled a ‘yes’, without stopping.

“Good boy. You’re doing well.”

His movements were more confident and he moaned.

“That’s it, moan for me, baby.” You were soaked, and couldn’t stop thinking about the moment when you would feel his length inside you. Filling you completely. 

Your fingers tightened on his curls.

He kept sucking, applying himself, until he realized how much you were squirming.

“Oh baby… come here. Lemme take care of you”, he said, grabbing your hips. Quickly, he untied the strap on and let it slip on the floor. Then he pulled you towards him, licking your folds. Buried his tongue between them impatiently, to finally feel you.

“Joel…” you whined.

“You’re so wet, baby. It really turned you on, mmm?”

“Yes…. but I need… I need-”

“I know baby, I know. You need to feel me. I’m gonna fuck you.” He got up and leaned you against the table, standing in front of you. Ready to fill you, his thick cock already in his hand, but the way you squeezed his shoulders made him stop. He frowned, cupped your cheek in his hand and asked “what is it, baby?”

“I need to feel your body on me”, you murmured. You were overwhelmed with the emotion of realizing his fantasy. The fact that you were the one he chose to do it. Now, feeling him in you, his body pressed against you, was all you needed. Your cheeks in his hands, he kissed you with his soft and warm lips, removed his shirt, then said “come with me, sweetheart”, his large hand gripping yours, and he led you to the bedroom. 

Lying on the bed, he positioned himself between your legs and looked into your eyes. Nestling his cock at your entrance, he thrust in slowly. You whimpered when his shaft spread your folds, your legs around his waist. He didn’t stop until his balls were pressed against your skin. 

“I need to feel you.. I need it so much.”

“I'm here, baby…I'm here.”

“Can you…stop moving, please?’

“Of course, sweetheart.”

You started moving your pelvis back and forth, fucking yourself on his cock slowly.

“Fuck, baby…”

“Joel, I…I just love you so much.”

“Sweetheart…I love you so much too. You're the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“God, I love your cock so much too” you whined, and he chuckled then kissed your forehead. You kept leading the pace around his shaft at a perfect angle, allowing you to brush your clit against his lower stomach.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Use me. Just use me as you need it. Shit, it's so hot to feel you fuck yourself on my cock like that.”

He covered you with kisses, from your lips to your cheeks to your forehead. His arms under your shoulders, you felt protected and loved. The complete trust you had in each other, the vulnerability he allowed himself to show you had made you emotional. You had reached a new stage in your relationship, and your feelings for him were stronger than ever. You focused on your building orgasm, and of course he felt it.

“Come for me, baby”, he murmured in your ear.

Your body obeyed him, clenching on his shaft multiple times and creaming his cock as both your moans were filling the bedroom. Overwhelmed by your pleasure, you barely realized that he was holding back from cumming at the same time as you. That he wanted more.

He caressed your cheek with his thumb, as you gradually regained your senses. Your gaze finally landed on his eyes fixed on you. He was smiling. His gaze was so soft that you felt yourself falling even more in love, if it was possible.

“I love how you’re looking at me right now, sweetheart”, he said softly as the corner of his lip turned into a tender smile.

You smiled shyly, and replied “it’s your turn, baby. Use me, take what you need.”

He kissed your lips and started to thrust in.

“I’m gonna fuck you slowly. Wanna feel your folds spreading for me. You’re so good for me, baby. Always so good for my cock. Always so fucking tight.”

He kept caressing your cheeks, thrusting in slowly before pulling back, keeping the same pace over and over, knowing that you needed him gently.

“Thank you for what you did for me. It was perfect. You’re perfect”, he whispered, offering you one of those moments of unity that you loved so much. Those moments when you were one, physically and mentally. As if you were the only two people in the world.

You caressed his cheek too, and asked softly “you liked it? Is it what you wished for?”

“I loved it. I couldn't have dreamed it to be better.”

His hips continued to roll and you didn’t take your eyes off him.

“I’m yours, sweetheart. You know that, right? From the beginning, from the first day perhaps, I was yours.”

“Jesus Joel.. I know, baby, I know. Oh… it's so good to feel you in me like that.”

“And that sweet little cunt… is mine. She’s mine. Oh fuck, babe… I’m gonna… I’m gonna come.”

You held him close to you, and whispered in his ear “she’s yours. And I’m yours. And we want to feel you dripping off us all night.”

“Fuck…sweetheart you can’t tell me things like that… Oh shit… Shit!” he said one last time, before freezing deep in your cunt, as deep as he could, and painted your walls for a moment that seemed to last forever.

You held him against you until his breathing slowed. Keeping him a little more inside you for a few minutes, feeling his cock soften. When he finally laid down next to you, you rested your head on his shoulder and your hand on his broad torso, where you were always feeling so safe. He put his arm around you and brushed your skin with his thumb.

“So... have I been a good boy?” he asked playfully. Of course he knew he had been.

“You were perfect, Joel” you replied, pinching him gently.

“Ouch,” he whined then laughed, and you giggled. God, you loved him so much. 

Same couple: 5 days collection

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring

[n0cturnalflesh]

Dr.Zayne's Guide to Treating a Hunter

Synopsis: Greyson asks for advice on how to deal with his hunter crush. Zayne gives him a very thorough lesson, with you as the test subject obviously.

Tags: Smut, established relationship, threesome, F/M/M, dom!Zayne, sub!Greyson, p in v, oral, warming, worshipping, roleplay, grinding, Greyson goes into subspace? idk it just came to me as i was writing WC: 6.1k

a/n: That took wayyy longer than it shouldve, I say for the third time as i publish my third fic. Thanks to yall who helped with deciding Greyson's crush! Disclaimer, I am nowhere near being in the medical field!!

————————————————————————

The hardwood door is cold beneath your knuckles, a subtle indicator of whom this office belongs to. Holding your breath, you wait for a reply.

“Yes? Come in.” Zayne’s voice draws from within. He’s not expecting you; a week-long mission ending a few days early thanks to your efforts, and not even a single bruise to show for it. With the extra time off given by Captain Jenna as a reward, what better to do with your time than to surprise your favourite doctor? 

Creaking the door open slowly, you push it closed with your heel and spin in a circle, holding the small box of macarons out front as an offering. 

“Doctor Zayne!” you hum in a sing-song voice, “Your favourite hunter is back! Did you miss me?”

His eyes widen at your voice, hand slowing from the rigorous notes being scribbled as he looks up from his desk. “You’re back early. Are you alright? Why wasn’t I notified about your mission ending early?”. Caution laces his tone, unable to get excited at your sudden return until he knows you’re safe.

“Of course!” You chirp, pointing a finger gun out the window as you pretend to aim at a tree outside,  “When am I ever not alright? I’m a professional.” He gives you an unamused look. “Anyway, I convinced Jenna to delay my mission report status so I could surprise you. Got dropped off right outside the hospital.”

“Hmm.” Zayne hums, standing from his desk as he takes a step towards you, “Professional misconduct with not just the Hunters Association but also Akso Hospital?”

“Yup! Only cost a week’s worth of lunches for the team on me.”

Zayne stops in front of you, pulling you into a warm hug. “And a box of macarons, apparently.” He gladly takes the offering you present, eying down the flavours you chose.

“Whatever.” You huff. “My reports should be in your inbox any second now, I just got them delayed long enough to surprise you. Mission ended early due to uncovered intel. Didn’t even get a scrape!”

Zayne raises an eyebrow at your words, pausing halfway into biting a macaron. “Shocking. Are you sure about that? How do I know you haven’t been replaced by a wanderer? I’ve witnessed you get injured stepping out of a car.”

“Uncalled for!” you pout before a mischievous idea pops into your head. “But, if you’d like to do a full body inspection, I have no objections, doc-tor.”

Popping your hips, you lock your hands behind your back and tilt your head to look up at the surgeon, challenging him. His eyes linger on your body as he takes you in before settling on your face. 

“I guess a thorough inspection is in order for such a… wreckless patient.” He leans forward and pushes you back slowly. “If you’ll have a seat, we can begin.”

Unable to hold back your smirk, his hands guide you around his desk until you're sitting on the ledge in front of his chair. Taking a knee in each hand, the cold of his fingertips lingers as he drags them along your thighs before spreading them to stand between.

Fingers gripping the hem of your hunters’ skirt, he leans down to whisper in your ear. “This new uniform seems… breathable. I didn’t realize skirts were efficient for fighting in.” He presses a kiss to your neck, breath hot against your ear.

“It’s for undercover missions.” He takes a small bite at your earlobe, “Not,” you gasp, “not the standard uniform.” With shuddering breaths, Zayne’s cool hands slide up your waist, tracing each curve and arch of your body until they rest, gently cupping your face. Pulling back, he leans his forehead against yours. 

“I missed you, my love. I’m glad you’re safe.” He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I missed you too.”

He slowly begins to devour you, lips pulling at your own as he tries to consume every inch of you like a starved man. Grabbing at his tie, you pull it from within his grey vest and yank him closer to you. The firmness of his body begins to melt against your own, hips moulding in ebb and flow as he grinds against you in waves.

“Zayne.” He kisses you. “Should I,” Again. “Should I lock the door?”

Pushing his lips heavy against yours one last time, he pulls away with a rugged breath. “No, I’m expecting Dr. Greyson shortly. Any minute. We won’t have time.” His words come with a wince, as if it pains him to decline the offer.

 You gaze up into his eyes, a shared longing for desperation pleading silently for each other. Zayne takes a step back, eyes closing with focus as he visibly wills himself to calm down. As he sits down in his chair, you can’t help but notice the fat tent in his pants. 

Sighing under your breath, you hop off Zayne’s desk. “Well, I need to sign off on a few final mission reports. It shouldn't take long. Would I be able to finish them here with you, and then we can grab food once you’ve finished your work? Unless your matters with Greyson are confidential, then I can just…”

“No, you’re welcome to work with me, please. He was requesting some advice, although on what, I’m not sure. At most, likely something related to his current medical research.”

“Yay!” You bounce, grabbing your laptop from your standard hunter bag and propping it next to his on the desk. “Watcha working on?”

“I’m preparing presentation material for a speech I’m giving later next month to our new resident doctors. I’ve already caught up on my post-operative documentation and patient progress monitoring for the day.”  

“Mmm, I love it when you talk all medical. So sexy.” You wink. A small smile flashes across his face, ears flushing a light red. “Glad it’s nothing too pressing then. Mind if you scooch a bit so I can sit down?”

Zayne gives you a slightly puzzled look, his eyes flickering to the empty chair beside you, one that he definitely does not need to move over for you to access, but still abides by your wishes. With a comforting confidence, you lean over and sit on his lap, skirt bunching up your thighs as you do. A small gasp comes from behind you, but Zayne remains quiet other than that.

“Darling,” he whispers, “Dr. Greyson?”

“Hmm? It’ll be fine. I’m just trying to get some work done. That extra chair of yours hurts my back, this is much more comfortable.” You reply, eyes not moving from your laptop. “Besides, this is hardly compromising. Greyson knows how much we miss each other after long missions.”

Zayne wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in your shoulder. The silence tells you he disagrees, but his tight grip around you says he doesn’t care enough to fight back. And so you begin your work.

Ten minutes in, your report is almost halfway done. Zayne has not touched his work. His arms loosen and tighten every few minutes around your waist as he watches your type. 

“My love,” he breathes, “can you please stop bouncing your foot.”

The movement is brought to your attention, and you slow it to a stop, unaware that you were even doing so in the first place. “Oops, sorry.” You smile, “Didn’t mean to distract, doc.” 

He stiffens at the nickname, fingers digging into your sides as he steadies you against him. It’s then that you feel the newly hardened bulge beneath you. 

“I’m sure you did, actually .” He pulls your back flush against his chest. “You know your effect on me. I can’t keep my composure with you like this.” As Zayne grinds you down onto his lap, your back arches into him. “Thinking I have the strength to withhold from your teasing.” He places a kiss on your neck. “You break down all of me.”

Hands groping at your body, you rock with him as he bucks lightly against you. “ Zayne .” you moan.

He groans into your neck, wanton and dripping with lust, “I need you. Sit on it, please darling.”

Blinded by desperation, you nod and push his hands up your skirt. His finger prods at your sopping panties, pushing them to the side to smear your slick around. 

“You’re already so wet. I barely need to stretch you out.” He gasps, fingers pushing into your clenching cunt as he scissors you open wide. “Pardon my rushing, a true medical professional should know not to rush these things.”

“ Mmph , well,” you pant, “my boyfriend should know how well he fits in me and put it in before it's too late.”

He withdraws his fingers in an instant, nodding to himself as he undoes the zipper of his pants. The warm weight of his cock springs out and hits your lower back. Pausing your movements, he lifts you with ease to hover you above him before slowly sliding you down onto his full length. The pressure is immediately dizzying, feeling his tip push deeper in as your body stretches to take him. 

“Zayne!” you cry out.

“I know, darling.” He whispers from behind, placing gentle kisses on the nape of your neck until you're fully sitting on him, ass flush against his pelvis. “Even if we don’t have time to finish, to be in you is a gift in itself.”

Zayne rubs at your hips, shifting his hands until they rest on your lower belly, holding you where you hold him within you. “You drive me to madness in the best way possible, I can’t control myself around you. I need you, always and forever.”

“And you have me.”

Like your words are his kryptonite, he leans his forehead against your shoulder, panting at the feeling of your warm, gummy insides squeezing him. 

The sudden turn of the doorknob disturbs the moment, a new voice entering the room.

“Hey, Dr.Zayne, thanks for agreeing to help! It’s nothing serious, more of a… personal matter you could say.” 

Greyson enters the office, head turned towards the door as he closes it behind him. He hasn’t seen you yet, nor does he notice the brief scramble at the desk as Zayne hurriedly pulls and smooths out the bottom of your skirt. Still nestled within you, it looks nothing more than you sitting on his lap to do work.

“Oh! Miss Hunter!” Greyson’s ears flush. “I didn’t realize you were back from your mission. I’m glad to see you made it back safe and early. And to see you lovebirds are happy together.”

“Yep,” you muster up, voice shaky from nervousness. ��I’m sorry to disturb you, I was just working on some reports. I can… leave if you need.”

Zayne squeezes your thighs beneath the desk tightly, a precautionary questioning at how you would even remove yourself from the situation.

“Oh! Actually, this might be a matter you can help me with too.” Greyson replies, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “If you can promise to keep a secret.”

You nod along shakily, too distracted by the weight of Zayne’s cock nestled deep within you. Were you not being split open, your brain would absolutely clock into whatever secrets Greyson is about to spill. 

“Of course!” Your voice comes out nervously high-pitched. Zayne’s hands begin to rub gently against your thighs at the hem of your skirt, hidden from sight beneath his desk. From within you, his cock twitches against your walls. He’s enjoying this.

“Yes,” Zayne answers from behind you, “if this is regarding what I think it is, she would absolutely be able to provide some insight on the matter.” His tone is calm, practiced, but just a little bit deeper than normal, hiding the carnal desire beneath it. He looks over your shoulder to Greyson, a smile on his lips as he nods in encouragement.

Greyson’s blush spreads from his ears to his cheeks as he begins to stutter over his words, clearly nervous to voice his thoughts. “Well, hunters are such a highly regarded profession.”

As he talks on, Zayne raises his hand higher, slowly up your thigh with such a stillness that could only be done by a surgeon's hands.

“And obviously hunters should be treated with the utmost respect.”

“ Mmhmm .” You nod, head spinning as Zayne slowly gets closer to your heat.

“Dr.Zayne would clearly know from experience.”

Maintaining eye contact with the cardiac surgeon’s assistant begins to be a struggle as Zayne uses the slick from where you two meet to rub at your clit gently.

“So I wanna make sure I do it right.”

You’re entirely gone, staring right through poor Dr.Greyson as he talks. Zayne’s fingers slide from your clit, circling around the base of his cock that kiss your lower lips.

“I just don’t know how to confess. I want to make sure I can show I’d be a good boyfriend for a hunter, that I could treat her right.”

“Wait, what?” You pause, suddenly tuned in to his mild confession. “You have a crush on a hunter?” Leaning forward to lean on Zayne’s desk, inadvertently sliding his cock a few inches out as you do. His hands retract at your movement, resting on the armrests of his chair.

Greyson looks away and out the window in embarrassment at the idea being laid out so bluntly. “Yes.” 

“Oh my-” You gasp, bouncing slightly in excitement before cutting yourself off at the feeling of Zayne’s dick pushing up into you as you move. Behind you, he lets out a desperate gasp, knuckles turning white as he grips tightly at his armrests.

Greyson, oblivious to the incident, continues to stare out the window, deep in thought. “I’m not gonna name names, yet , at least.”

Before you can reply, Zayne wraps his arms around your waist and yanks you back down fully onto his length. The cry of pleasure escapes your lips before you can stop it, face reddening in embarrassment and lust as he fills you entirely again. 

“Miss?” Greyson turns suddenly at your outcry. “Are you alright?” He takes a few steps towards the desk, Zayne tightening and tensing his hold on you as he does. The pleasure is blinding, intensified by the absolute control Zayne exerts over the situation- you’re a goner.

 The room is silent as Greyson leans toward you, examining your features. His eyes rake over your body, slowing as he reaches your once again bunched-up skirt in Zayne’s hands by his pelvis. By the way that his blush deepens, he’s figured out exactly what’s going on.

If the room was silent before, it must be lost in the deepspace tunnel now with how quiet and still it is. Zayne’s laboured breath is hot and heavy against the back of your neck, while Greyson’s chest rises rapidly in front of you. With a beet-red blush, his eyes dart between you and Zayne. Disbelief flashes across his face through his furrowed eyebrows, embarrassment visible in his quivering lip. 

But there’s something else, too. Something in his eyes, the way he maintains strong eye contact between both you and Zayne, in the way he doesn’t back away but, if anything, leans a bit closer with curiosity. 

And in the way his pants begin to tighten around his front. 

The situation has you clenching tighter around Zayne, pushing back slightly into his hips. The way he holds you, claims you , in front of his colleague like you’re his prized possession has you wanting more of this side to him. He must feel the way you clamp down on him as he returns in kind by pushing up against your hips just enough for his tip to kiss your cervix. A silent validation through this rocky situation.

“Dr. Greyson,” Zayne huffs, voice rich with dominance and authority, “why don’t you lock the door? As my assistant, we can give you a thorough explanation on how to properly treat a hunter.”

Greyson looks behind you, maintaining eye contact with Zayne for a few seconds before scrambling to lock the door. He returns to the desk, standing about 5 feet in front of you. With tense shoulders, he looks to Zayne for further instructions, his undone lab coat doing nothing to hide his clothed erection. 

“You can start with a prescreening review. What do you think a hunter should want in a partner? I will leave the expert to judge your answers.” As Zayne directs his assistant, he kisses the back of your neck and allows his hands to gently caress your hips. Riling you up but not going where you need them most.

“ Ahem , well,” The normally witty surgeon begins, “A hunter should want someone that can respect their independence.”

Zayne nods, hands sliding up your shirt. You arch your back, leaning into his touch. 

“Someone that can treat them well and take care of them after a long day.”

He slides his hands over your clothed breasts, not quite squeezing them but still gently fondling them. “Pay attention, darling,” he whispers in your ear, “you are the subject matter expert.”

As a whirl of pleasure and electricity surges through your nerves, you force your mind to focus back on the young man in front of you. Through foggy eyes, you rake your vision up to make eye contact with him. 

“Someone that, fuck , someone that can be patient and understand the risks of their job.” He whispers, shifting from foot to foot as his hands fidget in his pockets.

A gentle nudge from behind reminds you that he’s awaiting your response. “ Yes ,” you gasp through deep breaths, “mmhmm. And. Need someone to,” you sigh as Zayne gropes you lightly, “someone to keep them grounded, make them feel like a person, reassure them, please them .”

The subtle touches mixed with Greyson’s eye contact are becoming too much as you begin to grind your hips back on Zayne. Squeezing your legs down around his, if you lean just a bit, you can catch your clit on the hilt of his jeans. It’s not nearly enough, the room is spinning, head foggy with pleasure. Has Greyson always looked so submissive?

“Very good. I think you have an appropriate understanding of the matter.” Zayne groans, his hands stopping their previous ministrations. He holds you still on his lap, slowing your grinding. “Lesson two: bedside training. In line with Akso Hospital’s Office of Faculty Development, what are the three stages of effective bedside teaching?” 

Astra have mercy on your cunt because as Zayne speaks to Greyson, he begins to show the side of him you don’t often get to witness. His voice deepens and hardens- amongst other parts of him. Looking up over your shoulder, you can see the assertive stare he gives his assistant. Despite his professionalism, he still manages to slowly unbutton your shirt, spreading it slowly to reveal your bra.

Greyson coughs to himself, hand grasping at his belt before smoothing over his erection, pushing it down through his pants as he chases some relief. “Preparation, teaching, evaluation!” He all but spits out like the words will grant him some kind of prize.

“Good. Now I want you to get on your knees, Dr. Greyson.”

Greyson does exactly as he’s told, clambering onto the ground as he knees before the desk. Zayne slowly wheels his chair back until it hits the back wall. From this position, your entire body is on display for Greyson to watch, from the way your thighs rest on Zayne’s to the dampened stain on his pants where your bodies meet. 

“Come closer.” Zayne beckons. Greyson crawls on all fours towards you, under the desk until he’s sitting pathetically on his knees before you. He looks up at you with hazy eyes filled with curiosity and lust.

Before you can feel any form of shame, Zayne presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “We will begin by reviewing patient information. Greyson?”

“Uh,” He stammers, eyes lifting from you to Zayne. “Female patient, returning from deepspace hunter mission with a history of Protocore Syndrome. Presenting for a post-mission evaluation and follow-up care.”

“Diagnosis?”

Greyson shifts on his knees, confused and distracted by the sight in front of him.

“Sexual arousal.” Zayne answers for him, raking his hand beneath your skirt to gather your wetness between his fingers. “Explain what this diagnosis entails.”

With heavy eyes, Greyson speaks without taking his eyes off Zayne’s hands at your core. “Female tumescence, increased heart rate, flushing of the skin and elevated blood pressure. Heightened sensitivity in erogenous zones and increased desire are expected.” 

“Treatment plan?” 

“Orgasm.” 

As Greyson gives his answer, Zayne begins to curl your skirt up higher. The coolness of the office air hits your upper thighs, cooling down your heated body. “Do I have consent from the patient to involve medical teaching in your examination today?”

Without skipping a beat, you nod your head. “Yes! Please!” You whimper, desperate to end the teasing.

“Excellent.” Zayne pushes his fingers against your clit, reigniting the coil of pleasure within you. With a jerk, your hips begin to move on their own as he massages the bundle of nerves. Arching your back to rest your head against his shoulder, he uses his free hand to spread your legs and hook your ankles around his calves, displaying you for Greyson to see. 

“A hunter’s mission is always a serious matter. Whether it is a direct assault or recon mission, it’s important that you pay the utmost attention to their bodily needs. Especially after a long mission away from home.” Zayne turns his head to press a kiss to your cheek, voice softening from his stern, medical tone. “Where do you need me, my love?”

“Everywhere, fuck , touch me please, faster .” Your whole body twitches with desire, hips bucking forward as you hump his cock. From the ground, Greyson can see how Zayne plays with your clit, how he runs his fingers down to where his length enters you and back to your clit. Zayne’s free hand leaves your thighs and moves to unclip your bra with ease, helping to slide it off your body. 

Bouncing against him lightly, Zayne begins to match your hips with gentle thrusts, not enough to pound you but enough to shake your whole body. He presses his lips against your neck, biting down as he gathers your breasts in his hand and squeezes.

Lost to pleasure, a quiet whimper pulls you back to Zayne’s office. Greyson kneels beneath you, having crawled closer, looking like a mess. His hair is askew, strands sticking out from their normal styled positioning as a result of him desperately running his fingers through it. His shirt lays untucked from his pants, a few buttons undone, while his glasses are smudged with fog and sweat. And yet, his pants remain done up, ever the obedient assistant to Zayne.

The whimpering continues and it's not until you really focus that you realize he’s begging, over and over. “Please, please , Dr. Zayne, please may I have your permission to touch something, anything .” Greyson’s cheeks are impossibly flushed, his whole body entranced by you and Zayne, like he’s floating through a hypnotic trance, ready to do whatever Zayne asks of him. 

“ Mmmm ,” Zayne growls, releasing your body to once again wrap his arms around your waist. As he begins to focus on thrusting into you, he groans out. “I think we can,” he gasps, “begin with procedural training.”

 Zayne taps lightly on your inner thigh, enticing the other doctor to come closer. With his face between your legs, Greyson’s heavy breaths tickle your soaked panties. He looks up obediently, chest heaving up and down desperately as he awaits the next order. 

“I want you to walk me through the treatment. Outline the key steps of this diagnosis and procedure, Dr. Greyson.”

With laboured breaths, Greyson’s entire body heaves as he makes eye contact with your filled cunt. “R-resolve female tumescence and sexual arousal through, fuck , physical stimulation of the clitoris and nipples, mmmph , and internal stimulation with penile penetration.” He bucks his hips into the air, nearly losing his balance as he tries to catch himself from touching you.

“Keep going.” Zayne holds you spread for Greyson to see.

“ Mmmmm , the p-parasympathetic nervous system via the pelvic nerve, plays a key role in initiating arousal, w-while the autonomic nervous system coordinates the physiological responses involved.” He pants, brain short-circuiting between the medical knowledge engraved into his mind versus the image of you spread and filled that he’s trying to burn into his memory. 

“W-with the clitoral corpus cavernosum filling with blood due to vasodilation, leading to tumescence. Increased blood flow causes the labia minora to swell and enhances vaginal lubrication.”

“And can you point out where on the patient you can find this lubrication?”

“F-fuck. On your fingers, on her thighs, on your cock.” He manages to choke out.

“Tsk. I don’t recall ‘cock’ being a medical term.”

“On your penis .”

“Good. It’s important to maintain professionalism with your patients. Now, how do I treat her?”

“Stimulation to the pudendal, pelvic, and hypogastric nerve. Rhythmic penetration, manual stimulation of the clitoral glands, alongside sexual verbal stimulation seems to be the b-best course of action for this patient.” 

“I think we’re ready to begin hands-on training, Dr. Greyson.” 

Zayne taps your clit lightly with his finger, before sliding his hands up to caress your breasts. Greyson looks up at the both of you wantonly, crawling closer until he’s a blink away from your cunt. 

There’s a moment of pause, not necessarily hesitation but rather expectancy. Zayne’s face hovers behind your head as he stares down to watch his assistant wait. The stillness is torture as his cock resides within you, clit pulsing with every beat of your heart. He keeps your ankles hooked around his calves, holding you open for Greyson. The soft squelching of your slick echoes out as you shift impatiently in Zayne’s lap.

“Don’t keep the patient waiting, doctor.” Zayne speaks, reaching his hand out and grabbing Greyson by the hair, shoving his face into your pussy. The immediate pleasure is like the light at the end of a never-ending tunnel; your whole body igniting with heat as Greyson laps your clit. 

It’s sloppy, loud even, as his nose pushes against you, sinking into your drenched panties that’ve been impatiently shoved to the side. Zayne’s hand returns to holding your waist as he begins to grind you onto his lap. With every thrust back, his cock teases your silken heat, with every hump forward, Greyson laps on your clit with a heavy tongue. 

The assistant doctor picks up on the rhythm, his whole body rocking back and forth to chase your clit as you bounce lightly on Zayne’s lap. “ Mmmm .” He moans, voice sending ripples of pleasure to your sharp point, “ More, more, more .” He chants like a desperate man. A low laugh-turned moan escapes from behind you. Tilting your head, you see Zayne’s flushed cheeks beside you. 

His half-lidded eyes turn to look at you, chest heaving behind your back with laboured breaths. “ My love ,” he pants. Digging his fingers into your bouncing breasts, he kisses behind your ear and begins to start thrusting up into you. 

“Fuck” you hear from between your legs, looking down just in time to see Greyson pull back. His face is dripping with sweat and your wetness, hair ruffled and messy from his ministrations. With wet hands, he pulls his glasses off and tosses them on the ground beside you. He pauses for a moment, leaning back on his hands as he watches Zayne fuck into you.

His chest rises and falls with each breath, his wrinkled, half-buttoned shirt tightening as he pants. His leaned-back position only accentuates his neglected boner. Zayne grabs your chin, arm crossing in front of your bare chest as he presses your cheek to his and forces your gaze down onto his assistant. 

“I think our doctor-in-training could use some help from the expert again. Care to show him how a hunter can also care for their partner, darling?”

“ Mmhm .” You whimper out. Between bouncing thrusts, you unhook your leg from Zayne’s and place it on the inner side of his thigh. On an inviting angle, you beckon Greyson forward again. He crawls towards you on all fours until he straddles your leg, chin resting on your knee. Greyson looks up at you with clouded eyes, pouting and yearning for any kind of touch. With a nudge from a particularly harsh thrust behind you, you step down on his boner.

“ Ahh , fuck!” he crumbles forward, panting cheek resting against your thigh. “Mmm, sorry-” Before you can finish your apology, Greyson leans heavier into you, thrusting his bulge against your leg. As he humps you, his hands cradle your hips with reverence. He inches his face forward until it’s once again smushed against your crotch. With every thrust, he humps his erection onto you, chasing release as he licks at your clit. Zayne’s heavy balls squish against Greyson’s face, but neither seems to care.

Reaching out, you burrow your hands into them, grabbing each by the hair and pulling them closer. “ Oh my god! Z- ” You throw your head back, the combination of Zayne’s cock hitting your g-spot and Greyson’s tongue at your clit drawing you closer to the release you’ve been seeking since you first sat on Zayne’s lap. 

“Yes, my love!” Zayne grunts out, “Say my name!”

“Zayne!” 

“ Fuck , good girl.” He gasps, hips stuttering and losing their pace for a moment. Kissing the side of your neck, his fingers lower from your chest to your hips, brushing over Greyson’s hands for a moment.

“This,” Zayne thrusts, “is the proper way to treat a hunter. On your knees for them, having been allowed the privilege to treat them. Understand, doctor ?”

Pulling back slightly from your pussy, Greyson keels forward hard, humping your leg like a dog in heat. Pathetic whimpers of agreement and nods of his head escape him as he uses both hands to pull your leg closer against him. A wetness down your calf exposes his drooling mouth. He closes his eyes in bliss, letting out a loud whimper as he leans his entire torso against your leg one last time, holding it firm as his body twitches with pleasure.

“Eyes on me, darling.” Zayne coerces you, “you’re my hunter.” With that, Zayne fucks into you faster and harder than before. His hands rope down your body and begin rubbing at your clit as he pulls you to kiss him. 

“Mmhm, ‘m your hunter.” You moan back between sloppy kisses. His tongue licks at your lips, teasing with little bites. True to his title as a surgeon, his delicate fingers expertly tease and please your pussy, sparking tingles within you as you begin to clench tighten around him. 

“ Mmph , cum for me!” He chants in your ear, rocking into you with desperation. It finally becomes too much, surges of white shooting throughout your body as you tighten and twist and clamp down on him. A sharp coolness chases your skin as he holds you tight against him, whispers of his evol losing control. It’s the only sensation that reaches you beyond the explosion of pleasure that courses through you. Like an electrical charge, it travels through you and unwinds within him.

“ Ah , you take me so good. Perfect,” He pants, hips picking up the pace. The pressure of your orgasm mixed with his insistent thrusting is too much, making you spaz lightly in his arms, whimpering pleas for a break.

 “Was made for you. ‘m sorry, almost there. You can hold on, right good girl?” He begs, resting his forehead against your shoulder, damp hair smudging across your skin. He drills into you a few more times feverishly, and finally with a deep groan, he bursts within you- floods of his cum filling your twitching walls.

Through clouded thoughts and fuzzy vision, it feels like you’re floating above your body. The release of tension has tingles spreading throughout your limbs. You sit, sweaty and chilled on his lap, stuffed to the brim and unable to tell whether it's been minutes or hours. 

Finally, as your mind and body reconnect with themselves, sharp tinges of coolness pierce your skin. Through squinting eyes, you look down to see Zayne’s hands frosted to your hips. Weakly, you extend your fingers and interlock them over his. Evol power pushes through you weakly as you resonate with him, removing the light sheet of ice from his shivering and steaming body. 

As the ringing of pleasure in your ears dies down, it's replaced by a slow panting. Very slowly, your senses come back to you: the blinding LEDs shining from above, the smell of sweat and cologne surrounding you, the moist mop of hair resting against your shoulder, and the limp weight resting on your thigh. 

Greyson! Having nearly forgotten about Zayne’s assistant, you slowly shift your eyes down to peek at him. Warm flushes of embarrassment heat up your body as he still rests against your nearly naked body, but his eyes are still closed as he rests. 

Zayne must notice your gaze on the other man as you peer down. Subtly, he shifts his leg, nudging Greyson back into a kneeling position at your feet. From this angle, it’s not hard to miss the wet patch on his pants right over where his boner was. Head bowed down, eyes still closed, and with a vibrant rosy blush covering from his ears to his neck, he looks utterly pitiful and submissive.

“Zayne!” You whisper-yell, “You didn’t have to push him.”

“Training's over.” He pants back, “Students are no longer involved in this case; care will continue under Dr. Zayne only.”

Before you can reply, he’s pulling you in for a hug, pressing himself tightly against you’re back. “You are mine, as I am yours. One and only.”

Reaching back to rub his hair, you smile. “Always and forever. I love you.”

“And I, you.”

Getting dressed is easier than expected. Greyson remains partially aware of his surroundings but still not entirely present, allowing you to fix your attire quickly while Zayne picks him up to rest on the couch in his office. By the time he wakes up, you and Zayne are enjoying takeout at the desk. 

“Welcome back, Dr.Greyson.” Zayne addresses him without looking up from his food as his assistant rises to a seated position. The poor man is redder than an apple as he notices the wipes and damp towel left for him to clean up, along with a larger lab coat to better cover himself.

“Ahem,” he clears his throat, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation.

“You do not have to make this any more uncomfortable than it has to be. You asked for advice, and I believe we provided it, no?” Zayne asks, pausing from taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Right!” Greyson stammers out, voice cracking slightly as his face flushes even deeper.

“You are making it more uncomfortable.”

Laughing inwardly to yourself, you speak up to ease the tension. “Hey, it’s ok. We had a good time, did you?” He nods. “Good. Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone.” With a wink, you use a finger to draw a line across your lips, twisting and locking away the key. “I’m sure you’ll impress whatever hunter you have the hots for, especially now that you know what it's like to…properly handle one.”

Your casual approach to the situation seems to have calmed him down, as he nods in agreement, seeming to have a better grasp of the situation. 

“Thank you, Doctor Zayne. And Miss Hunter! For the opportunity. I won’t forget it.” Despite the slight shakiness in his voice, his tone is much more relaxed. With that, he picks up the supplies left for him and begins to head towards the door. 

“Wait!” You call out as his hand reaches for the knob, “You never told me who you’re crush was!”

“Nope!” 

“I could help set you up!”

His ears flush impossibly red once more as he continues to reach for the door. With haste steps, he nearly rushes directly into Yvonne.

“Dr.Greyson, what’s got you so flush?” Her voice rings out from the hall, popping her head in to see you and Zayne eating together. “Oh my gosh! No way you finally told them about Tara!”

—--

“I have to say, I’m shocked at how… submissive Greyson was. He totally got into some sub-space or something, y’know?”

Zayne pauses, staring at his sandwich for a moment before lifting his gaze to you “I’m not. After all,” he deadpans, “he is my sub -ordinate.”