#Put that into the purse || Aesthetics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wandasaura · 2 months

Text

SONG IN THE CAR

summary — wanda just wants to check that you’re not lying, but you can only keep yourself together for so long before you beg natasha to fuck you in the car

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, dom/sub dynamics, mommy kink, daddy kink, subspace, public play, inspection kink, butt plugs, packing, strap-on usage, mentions of edging, mentions of spanking, doggy style, car sex, semi-public sex, degradation, praise, dumbification, mentions of free use, finger sucking, oral fixation, men/minors dni

authors note — i’m not even going to apologize for what this turned into because once i started i just kept adding the most unhinged things. as always, this doesn’t need to be read with the yail series but it might make more sense if it is. the ending is a wee bit rushed but i wanted to get this out for you, so i hope you enjoy!

you are in love

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

A strangled whine falls off the tip of your tongue when Wanda trails her fingers across the small of your back. The interior of the store is cold, the electric hum of an air conditioning unit almost as loud as the music that plays through speakers hidden within different vents around the clothing store. You can’t even fathom what business Wanda and Natasha have being in a shop that’s blasting brain melting pop tracks, but they dragged you inside at the first sight of the large LED letters out front.

You’ve lost sight of Natasha, the Russian made a dramatic show of escaping toward the back wall merely seconds after Wanda dragged you over to look at a rack of denim shorts. The store was geared more toward a generation around your age, the elements of both boho aesthetic and minimalism felt almost too trendy to be authentic, but if you weren’t so… overwhelmed, to put it sweetly, you would’ve vocalized just how much you liked the style of clothes that sat folded precisely on the shelves surrounding you.

Wanda’s hand lingered on the small of your back for longer than an appropriate second. Despite the cold store that threatened to erase all memories of the sweltering heat outside, the Sokovian’s hands were the perfect cross between just barely warm and unacceptably frigid. The longer they sat on the exposed skin of your back – the baby tee Natasha had picked out for you to wear hugging your ribs tightly and subsequently allowing both her and Wanda access to your sensitive spine – the harder it became to not envision them falling lower and lower until they found a place between your thighs for the second time that day.

You weren’t looking at Wanda, intentionally avoiding her strong stare and focusing intensely on the white shelves that adorned the walls. You didn’t need to glance at her to feel the devilish smirk that rested across the very lips that had wrapped around your clit and left you needy only a handful of hours earlier to know that it was there and obnoxious. Natasha had kissed her in the car and claimed smugly that Wanda’s tongue still tasted of you, but neither had offered any assistance in relieving the sticky situation between your thighs.

When Wanda’s question went unanswered a second time, the question being if you liked anything in particular around the store, a perfectly sculpted brow rose in your direction and the attention you’d been putting on the racks of clothing became a fascination of the past. A slender finger cradled your jaw, cold against your flushed skin but not icy enough to flinch away from instinctively. The subtle gesture had forced your eyes away from the t-shirts and baby-tees you’d been meticulously staring at, and rather onto a set of twinkling green eyes. Wanda’s lips were still curved upward into a smirk, but they twinged with something dangerous as she set her gaze on your dilated pupils and permanently pink cheeks.

“Mommy asked you a question, milaya. What’s got you so distracted?” Wanda pouts, her lips teasing and thin as they purse in an attempt to ward off a sickening grin of mischief that she wore mere seconds beforehand. She knows exactly what’s distracting you, she’d been the one to suggest this little game when Natasha decided she wanted to go shopping, but still she feigns innocence as you come undone in a disgusting public mall.

Despite having an answer on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find the courage to share it with Wanda. There shouldn’t be any reason for you to vocalize your feelings when she’s already aware, despite her trying to break you down time and time again. Instead, you settle for something simple, and certain enough to wind her up a good deal. “Nothing.” The word doesn’t roll off your tongue as easily as you would’ve liked. It’s choppy and cuts like a dagger, but it sits lightly in the air between both of your warm bodies as Wanda takes the time to process what you’ve just said. Or rather, how you’ve just blatantly lied to her.

“Oh, nothing’s distracting you, baby?” Wanda coos, her head tilting ever so slightly to the side as her eyes threaten to unravel the web of lies you're spinning. You don’t even have a chance to answer before she’s gripping your jaw, the pad of her thumb pressing into the hollow of your cheek while her pointer fingers sentence the other side of your face to the same fate. Her grip is tight, controlling, but not harsh enough to actually hurt. She’s mastered the art of grabbing you in a way that stuns you into submissive silence, and though you’re in public where anyone can see, she doesn’t seem to mind holding all the cards in her one-handed grip. “So if Mommy put her hand in those pretty panties you’ve got on, she wouldn’t find a sticky mess?”

There are two choices here, you can either deny the accusation and save a sliver of your dignity that’s waning fast as the day progresses, or you can agree with her accusation and hope that your honesty satisfies her need to be right in this moment; either choice will lead to her hand in your panties, you’re not dumb enough to believe that she’ll drop the act when you’re already this far in, but there’s still defiance burning in your belly that deceives you enough to believe you’ll walk away with the upperhand. Hastily, not thinking much of the consequences, your head shakes from side to side in the negative. You’ve decided to save yourself the embarrassment of admitting that your panties are absolutely drenched by no fault of your own, it’s entirely her fault and she knows that. The movement is little, restrained to small jerks due to the hand on your jaw, but Wanda feels it, and she quirks an eyebrow. “I need words.” She tightens her grip, forces your lips to pucker and your cheeks to ache from how her fingers sit flush against your teeth.

“N-No.” It takes all of your strength to answer her, and even still all of your mustered up courage leaves a fierce blush sinking into the apples of your cheeks and across the tips of your ears, but a fire lights in Wanda’s eyes at your prolonged battle to remain coherent. You’ve been fighting her on decisions all day, trying to keep your head above the surface and your thoughts clear, but there’s only so much clarity in a moment like this. Nobody can blame you for falling beneath the thumb of the hottest lawyer in the world when you’re quite literally putty in her hands.

“Oh, well then I guess you won’t mind if I check for myself, will you, detka?” You’d discussed this new kink a week ago. You’d agreed to what she called inspections with no hesitancy, though a healthy bit of embarrassment at the prospect of her being able to feel your sopping cunt whenever she pleased, but you’d agreed and even anticipated the moment she decided to put your agreement to good use. You hadn’t expected her to be so bold as to cash in on your agreement in one of the most densely populated shopping malls in the state of New Jersey, but there was no getting around it now. Still, your eyes fluttered away from hers, anxiously scrounging the small boutique style store for other customers or cameras.

Your eyes only found two figures, and one was distinctly Natasha who had styled her red hair in dutch braids before you left the house. For a second, you wondered if this had been the plan all along; to get you into a store where nobody else dared to shop because of the steep prices and violate you into submission, though you wouldn’t technically call Wanda’s premistion a violation, but… still. The only employee that stood on the floor was a smaller woman with silky chestnut hair, and she occupied a space next to Natasha against the far back wall as the two engaged in a conversation that looked to be revolving around a red bikini top your girlfriend held up to her chest. It complemented her hair nicely, would do absolute wonders for her boobs, but she had no real interest in the article if the pinch between her brows was evidence enough.

Despite the reassurances you found, you met Wanda’s gaze again and choked out a strangled whisper, “Somebody’s going to see.” The blush on your cheeks was sheerly a factor of your mortification, but Wanda seemed to crave to deepen the sharp color on your face as the hand not gripping your face began its ascent toward your core. The flowy white skirt Natasha had picked out for you allowed her access without a fuss, and when her fingers tickled the sensitive interior of your thighs, you couldn’t help but instinctively part your legs for Wanda’s quest.

“Shh,” The Sokovian shushed you sweetly, her hand loosening its grip on your jaw but never falling away fully. Her eyes searched yours, practically looking through you as she assured that you were okay to continue, anticipating the moment the safeword fell off your lips and all of her movements stopped. You’d never stop adoring her caution in moments like these. “Let Mommy do the thinking, sweetheart. Little girls don’t need to be worrying about anything other than their Mommy.” Her words fell onto you thickly, and a pout pulled at your lips as they sunk in. That submissive headspace all three of you adored was creeping up on you slowly, and her infantilizing words merely accelerated the process as you blinked at her slowly.

The hand on your thigh brushed across your mound tauntingly slow, and for a second, you’d forgotten that you weren’t going to receive anything from her touch when it finally came. There would be no pleasure to spiral through your core when her fingers found a home beneath the drenched material of your panties. All that would come from her touch was embarrassment and more frustration. You gasped when Wanda’s ring trailed down the warm skin of your cunt, tracing a path downward until it fell onto your clit almost perfectly. Your hips startled at the cold sensation, but Wanda merely shushed you as the tips of her fingers sought out the source of your arousal. She hummed inquisitively, the pad of her finger pressing against your sopping entrance for merely a moment before it was gone and she was trailing strings of your wetness back up to your clit.

“You’re so wet, utenok. No wonder you’re having such a hard time listening to Mommy. I bet it’s so hard to think when your pretty little pussy is just crying for attention.” Wanda mused mockingly, the pads of her fingers circling your clit that throbbed and ached for actual relief, but the pleasure never came. As quickly as her hand had dipped into your underwear and sought out your intimacy, they’d fallen away and resettled on your hips. The sticky thinness of your arousal smeared against your exposed skin kissed beautifully from the summer sun, and you knew she had every intention of making you walk through the mall with a patch of glimmering dampness adorning your body that you’d never have the courage to explain if someone questioned it. A deep blush settled across your cheeks, but Wanda wasn’t finished yet. Before you could reach out to her and tangle your fingers into the softness of her t-shirt, she was spinning you around and forcing your back against her chest. “Mommy’s not finished yet. Be a good girl and stay quiet while she checks something.”

You’d almost had the chance to question her intentions before the words were stolen from between your bitten lips and the softest gasp of pleasure fell from you instead. Wanda’s fingers, still glistening with your arousal, had found a home beneath your skirt and against the base of the plug nestled deep within your ass. You’d only started trying the plugs out a couple weeks ago, but in that span of less than fourteen days they’d become something you adored and hated equally. The deep pleasure that came from constantly feeling full was insatiable and you craved it whenever Natasha pulled it out too soon, but you’ve grown to hate how every soft step shifted it against you perfectly, and especially how no matter which position you attempted to sit in it presses deeper and deeper into you without remorse. Wanda’s fingers circle the crimson red jewel framed between the globes of your ass, cheeks still pink from a spanking you’d received yesterday. The touch is soft, gentle, caring even, but when you think she’s about to pull away and end her little experiment, she taps harshly on the center plug twice, sending sparks of pleasure through your body and into your already fuzzy head.

“So full for Mommy. Those panties are absolutely ruied, moya lyubov’.” Wanda pulls her hand out of your panties, spinning you back around in her arms and cradling you close to her chest as you shake and try to comprehend the fact that for right now, that simple touch was all you’d be getting. You’d think she almost felt an ounce of sympathy for your desperate form if she wasn’t wearing such a cocky smirk. “You’re being such a good girl, detka. Maybe we should keep you like this, huh? All full and eager to be fucked. Daddy could just bend you over anywhere and you’d take it, wouldn’t you?” Wanda preened into your ear, her words thick with lust and traces of an accent you’ve begun to memorize. You’re not sure whether to nod your head and agree, because it’s true, you’d let Natasha fuck you anywhere she wanted to right now, you’re not oblivious to the fact that she’s packing your favorite strap beneath those denim shorts adorning her toned legs, or to shake your head and beg for her to not let that happen. You’re not sure you’ll be able to survive in this state for another couple hours, let alone for however long they deem acceptable. “Huh, answer Mommy, baby. Do you want Mommy to keep you like this forever? Want to be ready to use whenever Mommy and Daddy feel the need to take you?”

“I-I want you, Mommy.” You pleaded, shaking your head frantically at the suggestion that rolls off of Wanda’s lips like its been imprinted onto the tip of her tongue for decades. The Sokovian smirks, drawing you in closer to her chest and letting her forehead rest against yours, her deep sage eyes peering into your soul with how intensely she stares down at you.

“You have me, baby.” She soothed your downturned lips with a gentle kiss, her touch soft and smooth yet harboring a lingerance of artificial strawberry chapstick if you thought about her taste long enough. The embrace was fleeting, entirely too short, but it had your head spinning when she pulled away and greeted Natasha who you hadn’t even noticed had come up beside you. “Come on,” Wanda patted your ass deliberately, jostling the plug just softly enough to have you hyper aware of its presence but not earning pleasure. “we still have a couple of stores to hit.”

“I was thinking we stop by that store you like, ducky. We can see if they have any of those little pins you were talking about?” Natasha places a firm hand on your back, her eyes kind but tinted with lust that has settled deep within her stare permanently since Wanda wiggled the plug between your cheeks. There’s a hint of knowingness in her smile, an indication that she knows perfectly well what had just happened between you and her wife.

The proposition of spending another handful of hours surrounded by incompetent strangers with no regard for others and continuous sounds that blended into static chatter didn’t sound appealing, but unless you called red, they weren’t taking you home. Reluctantly, you took Natasha’s hand, allowing the lawyer to lead you out of the boutique and toward a store much more your style. Wanda’s hand stayed firm on the small of your back as Natasha took the lead, but your focus had fallen beneath the waves as you surrendered to them entirely.

A desperate whine slipped past your lips as Wanda pulled you into her chest, toned arms still warm from the sun wrapping tightly around your torso and keeping you still. The dressing room was saturated in gold plated decor and embellishments, illuminated by a chandelier framed with dazzling crystals worth more than your entire college education. Natasha had dragged the both of you into the high-end designer store with the hopes of them having their new summer collection, and much to your annoyance, they did. The bold colored suits were a powerful statement, she’d look absolutely delectable in them, but that was exactly what you were worried about. The thought of her in a suit so expensive and sleek sent tingles through your belly that couldn’t just be ignored, especially not with your already existing desperation. Wanda wasn’t blind to your frustration, and she smirked wickedly down at you the second Natasha had slipped behind the heavy fitting room door.

“Shh, Mommy just wants to check.” She whispered against the shell of your ear, a cold hand trailing up the inside of your thigh that is absolutely drenched with arousal. Your eyes burn into hers as you both become controlled by lust, already blown pupils somehow finding additional blackness to manipulate until the color in Wanda’s eyes is entirely vacant. Your bottom lip is bitten and quivering as you feel her fingers start to massage your slick coated folds, a shaky breath at the back of your throat desperate to be unleashed. “Oh, you’re so wet sweetheart. Did Mommy do this to you?”

You nod shortly at her question, aware of how close the tips of her cold fingers are coming to your clit every time she strokes the length of your folds, but each time they never brush against your stiff and throbbing nerve, merely coming close enough to tease before they’re gone. She circles your entrance repetitively, pressing against it only to pull away seconds later and trail her fingers back down toward the plug, but she never fully grazes that either. She’s content to keep playing with your body like a toy in the middle of the fitting room, her lewd actions have entirely drowned out the sounds of Natasha throwing different articles of clothes around in the dressing room just a few feet behind you, your focus entirely on her and the sensations she’s provoking cautiously.

“Oh she did? Mommy did this? What a little slut, getting so worked up and Mommy’s not even touching you fully. You’re so easy, dorogaya” Wanda continues to tease condescendingly, giving you not a single second of relief as she digs her fingers harder into your cunt on the last swipe across your panties before she’s hooking her fingers into the waistband and tugging them down.

Your eyes go wide as you look up at her fully, your shoulders tensing as she keeps tugging the soiled garment down your thighs. “W-What are you doing?” Your skirt is short, it’s flowy and it’s thin but that was Natasha’s entire goal when she dressed you that morning. You know that despite the length every intimate part of your body is covered, but you weren’t prepared to challenge the wind once you stepped outside again.

“Color?” Wanda stops her movements, her voice soft and kind as she keeps her eyes on you. Everything before this point had been a discussion that you’d had time to prepare yourself for, but this was unplanned and admittedly terrifying, and yet your belly clenched at the prospect of her undressing you in a public space and forcing you to walk around with no barrier to catch your arousal.

“G-Green.” You mumbled back at her once you’d taken a second to collect your thoughts and swallow your shock. Wanda nodded curtly before she slipped right back into her role, eyes hard and jaw clenched as she continued pulling your panties down before tapping your thigh in a silent demand for you to step out of them.

“Then stop talking and let Mommy do what she wants.” Her voice was hard, leaving no space for you to argue, but you weren’t going to. You stepped out of your panties with a gentle wince, feeling their dampness against your shins before the sensation was gone entirely and Wanda was holding them up to the light to inspect. Your cheeks flushed in humiliation, watching her fingers swipe across the soaked material before she hummed and folded them up, shoving them into her back pocket like they were just a piece of paper she’d found on the ground. “Good girl.”

You bristled beneath her praise, but your attention drifted away from her when you heard the door unlock and Natasha’s soft footsteps came stepping out slowly. There was no question about whether she had heard the entire exchange, but you had no time to pay attention to her cheeks flush with need as you drank in the sight of her in a hundred thousand dollar suit. If your eyes weren’t already blown wide with lust, they certainly were now as you gawked at her defined biceps and breasts, the suit drowning some of her more prominent features but highly accentuating others. A rippled whine fell off your tongue as your eyes memorized the sight, but so badly you wanted to rip it off her body and drag her home to appreciate her fully.

“P-Please.” You just barely got the plea off of your lips as Wanda sparked up a conversation with her wife, commenting on the fit of the suit before she began her shower of compliments and praise. You’d gone ignored, or maybe they just hadn’t heard you, whatever the reason for their silence toward you, it only frustrated you further. “Daddy please!” You tried again, eyes wet and pleading as you held onto the little attention Natasha was providing you as her eyes danced away from Wanda’s and found yours beneath the bright LED lights.

“Shh.” Wanda scolded, a finger coming up to sit on your lips as she turned her head to glare at you. It wasn’t intentional, but your lips had done it anyway. The second her finger, still soft from your arousal, brushed against your lips, you’d let your tongue poke out and lick at her finger, able to identify the traces of you that clung to her skin despite how she’d wiped her fingers clean on your outer thigh. Your lips wrapped around the digit, suckling and biting sweetly as the blanket over your mind became thicker and warmer. Wanda didn’t stop you, merely returned her attention to Natasha before the Russian nodded and disappeared back into the fitting room, hopefully changing back into her own clothes. “Mommy needs that back, little one.” Wanda said softly, gently easing her finger from between your lips when it became apparent that you weren’t going to relinquish it yourself. A pitiful whine came falling off the tip of your tongue when she pulled it away, but she merely smiled sweetly and kissed the top of your head. “Come on, Daddy’s gonna check out and then we’re going to go home.”

You shook your head, absolutely appalled at the suggestion that you’d have to wait until you arrived home to get what you wanted. The mall wasn’t far, but an hour was a long time for someone who had been teased and dragged along relentlessly since the sun had first kissed the gravel paths that weaved and winded through Westview.

“No?” Wanda furrowed her brows, looking down at you with nothing but softness in her still black and lust filled stare. She’d dropped the condescending tone, abandoned the fleeting touches and teasing, but the only thing that would fully cure the arousal in her eyes was getting a taste of your sweet pussy.

The words felt heavy on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t last another hour without release, and so they found their way off of your lips before you could panic about the implications of your request, “Fuck me now.”

Wanda’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but that look of shock that claimed her strong features had quickly become something sinister as she stepped closer to you, invading your personal space and allowed you the slightest tinge of her perfume as her chest came flush with yours and she let a single finger tilt your head upward to meet her heavy stare. “Yeah? You want your Daddy to put that strap to use and treat you like a filthy little slut where anyone can hear you crying out in pleasure? You want an audience, moya utenok?”

A whimper filled the dressing room as your thighs pressed together, your lack of panties leaving the rush of arousal to drip nowhere by your thighs as you writhed beneath Wanda. A soft nod came next, and Wanda smirked proudly, mimicking your gesture before she stepped away entirely and turned her attention back to Natasha who had only just left the dressing room with the suit thrown over her forearm.

“Hurry up, moya lyubov’. The little slut wants her Daddy to fuck her and who am I to say no to that?” Wanda taunted, grabbing your hand and leading you back out into the store, letting Natasha check out in peace as she occupied you with whispered promises of how the Russian was going to absolutely ruin you where anyone was around to watch.

The only saving grace about Natasha’s car were the tinted windows that blocked out the eyes of anyone who dared to even get close to the Stingray. The seat was drenched in your arousal, thighs spread wide as you occupied almost the entire strip of leather. She’d need to clean the seats thoroughly when you got home, but for right now, neither of you cared. Your hands sunk into the cushioned row of seats as you pressed your ass out further, back arched and muscles strained as you dropped your forehead onto the window and watched with slitted eyes as your breath fogged up the glass. Wanda watched from the passenger seat, green eyes trained on your desperate form that reflected off the rearview mirror pointed downward. Natasha was pressed up against the door, shorts unzipped and hanging loosely over her hip bones as the strap stood at full attention, no longer confined beneath the stiff denim.

Your skirt was bunched up around your hips, ass and thighs already red from various hits and spanks that the Russian had laid upon your ivory skin. She’d yet to touch you, but each hit that rocked the plug in your ass sent you reeling closer and closer to ultimate pleasure. All you could make out was white spots as they danced along your vision and intercepted the view of strangers and cars wrecking havoc in the parking lot around you. Even when a middle aged man and his wife had gotten close to the car, shopping bags in each of their hands that you could only assume was a pending return, you hadn’t focused much on what they could see from the outside. Your focus was entirely on Natasha, and yet the lawyer hadn’t done anything since bending you over.

“D-Daddy please! I need you so bad! Please!” You cried out in desperation, back arching further as your nipples grazed the seats, your ass grinding against the strap that she refused to shove into you just yet. What she was waiting for, you didn’t know, but every agonizing second that passed was becoming longer and longer as you waited for relief to wash over you fully. Only she could get you to that point, and yet no matter how much you pleaded with her she didn’t cave. “P-Please!” A strangled cry slipped past your lips when her hand found your ass and her thumb pressed firmly on the jeweled plug nestled between your cheeks.

“Shh.” The Russian coos. It’s the first sound that’s come to fill the car that wasn’t your own since she had aggressively shoved you into the backseat, and you greedily drink in the unspoken promise that what you want is coming soon. You have no time to prepare yourself for the intrusion of her strap as it slips between your folds and finds a home within your cunt in seconds, but you gasp so sweetly that Natasha doesn’t stop to give you a moment to adjust to the wide girth that’s splitting you open. You’ve wanted this for hours, she’s in no mood to drag your pleasure out any further, having already tested her own patience as she waited for Wanda’s silent permission to begin. You’d been oblivious to the curt nod that was given by the Sokovian, but as much as the game was in Natasha’s hands now, Wanda still held all the cards. “Do you feel that, malyshka? Feel Daddy’s cock splitting you open? Filling this slutty little pussy where anyone can see if they come close enough. I bet you’re so full. This pretty little plug has been driving you crazy all day, hasn’t it? Mommy picked out such a pretty color for you.” As the words drive you farther and farther into pleasure and submission, Natasha’s thumb presses against the plug and sends your mind spiraling downward into a sea of static energy. There’s a thick ringing in your ears that forces your mind to go blank, your hips that had been stuttering against her quick thrusts stilling as you surrendered your body to her control, willing to take whatever she gave you in this very moment.

Natasha’s thrusts only grow faster as your moans and whines become softer and sweeter, desperation not only evident in the way your arousal soaks your thighs and the seats, but in the pitch of your moans as they fill the car and ricochet off the windows. You don’t have it in you to feel embarrassed by how loud you’re being, your only focus is taking the pleasure and not letting it slip away again. A broken cry leaves your lips as Natasha’s hand finds your clit, thumb rubbing circles on the sensitive nub as she winds you tighter and tighter. Her own thrusts are becoming choppy and quick, groans of pleasure harmonizing with yours until the entire car is just an explicit symphony of intimacy. Wanda’s eyes haven’t left you once, but you can’t see her with the way you’re bent and arched over. Natasha can, and she curses beautiful in Russian as she gives you the green light to let go.

“Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me. Cum on Daddy’s strap.” She encourages gently, her thrusts growing harsher as she chases her own pleasure and orgasms with a delicate moan, though it's quickly drowned out by your own sobs and cries of bliss as you writhe beneath her heavy hands and let the coil snap in your belly. Your body shakes in the aftermath, arms giving out on you as you crash against the leather seats and subsequently pull your cunt off of her strap, the glistening material catching rays of sunlight before she quickly tucks it back into her shorts and zips them up. “You did so good for us, malyshka. So so good.” Natasha kisses the bottom of your spine, her fingers working on the plug in your ass simultaneously. Wanda maneuvered herself in the passenger seat, her hand reaching out to just barely brush against your upper back as well. “Relax for me, angel. Let Daddy take this plug out and then we’ll go home.” She talks you through the process, but nothing prepares you for how empty you feel when the metal is no longer flush against your walls keeping you full. A strangled whimper falls off your lips before it’s gently drowned out by shushing and shuffling. Natasha, unwilling to let you go through aftercare in a crowded parking lot all twisted up, opens the door and steps out of the car, nodding for Wanda to occupy a seat in the back beside you. “Mommy’s gonna sit back here with you, and Daddy’s gonna take us home. Just let go, honey. It’s all okay.”

It doesn’t take longer than five minutes for Wanda to be sat beside you, your body curled up into her chest and void of a seatbelt. Typically she’d scold you for such a behavior, but all she does now is hold you tighter and kiss your head, promising that you’ll be home soon and there will be plenty of cuddles and kisses all wrapped up beneath the heavy blankets on the bed.

#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dom!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wandanat x reader #dom!wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wandanat fluff #series: you are in love #minors dni ৎ୭

978 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 6 months

Note

Hey darling x I hope youre doing well 🩷 I have a really cute maruaders idea if it sparks any inspiration.

Reader who always wears ruffle socks, or the ones with the big bows on the back, no matter the aesthetic shes got going on for the day and the boys are living for it. Like theyd notice when shes gotten a new pair and just melt when she pairs/matches them with one of the boys shirts/jumpers shes wearing.

Anyway, love you bub. You deserve everything and more x

Thanks for requesting gorgeous!! Love you too (and you deserve the most!) <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 520 words

“Sweetness, key to my heart.” Sirius sidles up to you on the edge of your bed, holding a pair of silver socks in his hand. “Wanna wear these ones today?”

You hold up the balled socks you’ve already chosen. “I was gonna wear these blue ones,” you say.

He purses his lips. “I just don’t think those are the way to go.”

“But these have bows,” you say bemusedly. “I thought you like ones with bows.”

Sirius opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, he’s hit with a balled-up shirt.

“Oi!” He looks around, and James, shirtless, looks too. “Did you just throw a shirt at me?”

“Of course not,” James says. “But actually, would you mind tossing it back?” Sirius does, clearly aiming for his head. James snatches it from the air with ease. “Anyway, don’t listen to him, angel. He's just being a prick because he wants you to match his shirt.”

You look over, and Sirius is indeed wearing a gray shirt that would go well with your silver ruffle socks. Both of them rather complement his eyes, actually.

“You’re welcome to wear them, Siri,” you offer.

Sirius pouts, albeit fondly. “S’more fun when we’re matching,” he whines.

You soften, more so when he sets his head on your shoulder, sighing pitifully. “Okay,” you say, smiling when he perks up instantly, “I don’t have any gray tops, but if you lend me one of yours I can wear the socks and we’ll match.”

“Dove,” Remus moans as Sirius kisses you happily on the cheek, springing up to go look in the closet. “You give in so easily.”

“Yeah, you can’t!” James says, and you notice that the shirt he’s put on is blue to match yours.

"Aww," you say.

“Aww,” Sirius mocks, smirking at James as he brings you his shirt. You hesitate, and he tugs at the hem of your top, trying to bring it over your head.

James smacks at his hands—“don’t undress her, you pervert”—as Remus makes a sound of agitation that you suspect covers amusement, beginning to dig through his side of the closet.

You’re laughing, having succeeded in keeping your top on only for Sirius to start trying to wrestle his favored pair of socks onto your feet, when Remus returns, one of his sweaters in hand.

“Alright, enough.” He rolls his eyes, passing the sweater to James. “There, now she and Sirius can match, and you and I can match. Sound fair?”

James lights up, and Sirius huffs, hauling your foot up against his chest possessively. “Fine. I see the way it is, Moony.”

“I’ll change into your shirt,” you promise, wriggling in his hold, “but if you hold onto my foot a second longer, I’ll never be able to look at you again.”

You make a horrified sound as Sirius grips your foot tighter, pressing an obstinate kiss to the side of your ankle, before releasing you. “Alright, lovely, put those pretty socks on.”

“Don’t have any that are gray and with bows, do you?” Remus asks. You look at him, and he shrugs. “What? I like the ones with bows too.”

2K notes · View notes

amathslutsguidetofandom · 1 month

Note

I seen this gif of Bucky and immediately thought of him taking a nap on the couch with yours and his newborn daughter sleeping peacefully on his chest and Alpine sleeping on the arm of the couch next to his head and you come home from the grocery store to see the cuteness overload on the couch and can’t help but take a picture of your two favorite people🥹🩵

Take A Pic, It'll Last Longer

PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x Wife!Reader

WARNINGS: extreme fluff

WORD COUNT: 753

Sighing hard, you drop the heavy plastic bags at the door. You, being you, were too stubborn to make two rounds to just get groceries. Yes, the apartment has an elevator, but you were that girl.

You toe off your shoes and hang your purse on one of the multiple hooks beside the front door. And you pause, realising one major thing.

It is quiet, extremely quiet.

"Honey?" you whisper into the front hall, waiting for a reply. But to your surprise, there isn't any response.

You walk slowly, your body on high alert, as you turn the hall and look at the sight before you.

Your whole body relaxes instantly at the scene draped across your grey couch.

Your husband lays across the three-seater, with his metal arm secured around your four-month-old daughter on his chest. You pout, and your heart warms even further when you see Alpine sleeping in the crook of his neck. Her head's on the armrest and her tail hanging over the edge of the couch.

"Aww," you whisper. You quickly pulled out your phone and snapped a very cosy aesthetic picture of the scene in front of you.

Bucky's super-hearing hears the shutter of the camera and stirs awake. His arm is secured around his little girl as he manoeuvres Alpine easily.

"Doll?" His voice rough with sleep, "you finished quickly." He places the cat gently on the couch and walks over to you, giving you a loving kiss on your lips.

"Not many things to get," you smile up at him. Your baby stirs awake to both your voices and begins to whimper at the disturbance. Bucky bounces her on his arm, and her cries are quickly soothed.

"Hand her over, I need to feed her," you say tiredly, already dreading the task of putting the groceries away. You pluck the baby from his hands and Bucky rubs your shoulders, "alright. Then I'll put the groceries away, love." It's like he read your mind.

You groan and thank him.

-----

You wake up to the sound of your alarm and harshly tap at your phone to hit snooze. Bucky wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you to his chest.

"Why do you have to put that thing to go off so early babe?" he groans into your hair. You chuckle and rub his arm, "because any second now, your daughter is going to get hungry and start crying."

And as if on cue, you hear the tiny wails of your little girl from down the hall. He chuckles and kisses the nape of your neck, "don't know how you do it."

You laugh and slide off the bed, "oh, and my other alarm is also set, so just switch it off when it goes off, yeah?"

Bucky nods with his eyes closed, not wanting to get up.

The alarm you told him about goes off about fifteen minutes later.

Bucky groans while he reaches for your phone on the nightstand, and he switches the alarm off.

He was about to turn your phone off and put it away, but that's before he realizes that you changed your wallpaper.

It used to be a picture of you two on your wedding day, but now it's a picture of him, your daughter and Alpine sleeping on the couch.

His heart warms, and he silently thanks his lucky stars for finding a woman like you after all this time. After everything reality has put him through, he's thankful that the universe has given you to him as a sorry for all the harsh moments they’ve dumped on him.

-----

You quickly shoulder your satchel and check the battery of your phone, before pulling on your heels and grabbing your car keys.

"Bucky, babe, I'm leaving for work!" You exclaim, at your husband who is currently changing your baby girl's diaper.

He walks out of the nursery with your daughter in his arms, and he gives you kiss on your lips, "have a good day sweetie, someone's gonna miss you."

Your little girl shrieks and giggles at you as you kiss her chubby cheek, "gonna miss you too, lovebug."

Bucky opens the door for you and you two have your last 'goodbye' kiss

"Oh and one more thing," Bucky says into the hallway of the apartment. You look back confused, "what is it?"

Did you forget something? Was something missing? What was it?

"Don't forget to send me that photo, your wallpaper," he winks at you and closes the door.

💌💌💌

What a beautiful ask, I really enjoyed writing this!!!!

Sorry for the late reply, was caught up on some uni work lmao.

Hope y'all enjoyed it!!!

Till' then

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes oneshot

528 notes · View notes

hopeastrz · 7 months

Text

𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐕𝐈𝐈🧋

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫/𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 + 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭.🩶

you’ll relate to Artists that have the 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 as you, their art will feel like it speaks to your soul.

𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐍 may put their friends above everyone, and it isn’t sweet trust me, they have no balance when it comes to it.

𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎 𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒, go and dye your hair black, midnight blue or dark purple, i don’t make the rules.

𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 go red in everything.

𝟗𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐍 may find fame and luck in other countries overseas, while exploring different cultures or in college.

as a 𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒 yes, i can say I’m quite lazy, i really prefer staying in bed and just relax.

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 and colored eyeliners go hand in hand, just beautiful.

𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 way too much accessories will never fail you, you guys remind me of cyber fairy aesthetics.

𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 and glossy make-up do something to me, highlighter and glosses oh my god please never ever get them out of your purse.

On the contrary 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 and dark, bold, smokey make-up, contour your sharp jawline and i won’t ever complain again.

Again 𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒, 𝟏𝟏𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐘/𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝟏𝟏° 𝐃𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄 have a very bad ghosting tendencies, they’ll ignore your messages for a month, and to them losing people is quite easy, if these people don’t match their vibes anymore, they take “thank you, next.” way too literally.

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 — 𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒 change their lovers more than they change their pants and you can’t tell me otherwise, because Ariana grande has this placement.. the thing here is that they get bored quite easily so if you aren’t igniting the spark daily they’ll leave.

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 — 𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒 tend to feel very confused and delusional when it comes to their emotions, that’s why they aren’t really ignoring your love for them or anything, they are just genuinely oblivious, and also no they aren’t emotionally reserved or stoic, they just don’t understand their feelings by all means.

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 are very disciplined when it comes to academics, they usually don’t procrastinate, and also they are the type to really care about driving safety.

On the other hand never, and i mean it, never be a passenger seat when someone with 𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 is driving, because they are CHAOTIC, literally i lost three lives once hanging with a friend who has this placement, same may apply for 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄.

𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒 due to overthinking they tend to think that showing emotions is unnecessary, so no they aren’t cold, they actually prefer to find solutions to their problems and react to situations based on what they see right or more suitable, not based on what they need emotionally.

#astrology #astrology observations #astrology notes #astrology aspects #astrology degrees #astrology houses #astro notes #astro observations #astro placements #astro #astrology planets #natal chart #natal observations #natal notes

1K notes · View notes

queenimmadolla · 2 months

Text

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

Summary: Tired of seeing Eddie with other women, you reflect on how much longer you can take it.

Warnings: no mentions of y/n, fem!reader, heavy on the angst, hurt with attempts to comfort, both reader and Eddie are bad at feelings, self-deprecation, Eddie is toxic and doesn’t know why, infidelity (but not technically), no happy ending.

The house is quiet as the front door creaks open, you’re quick to slip inside—chill of the October air nipping at your back. The lights are all off and your arms curl around your exposed midsection. It was colder outside but still chilly in your home, your parents out of town on a romantic anniversary road trip.

You sigh, tossing your keys on the table to run around searching for in the morning, and make your way to your room with a quick detour at the thermostat to turn on the heat. It’s a blind fumble to reach the antique lamp, once you enter your bedroom, but you refuse to use the overhead light. It would cast your room in non-aesthetic lighting, and you’re already annoyed, pissed off and depressed enough.

An irritated breath is huffed from your lips, top lip curling as you recall the very reason for your negative attitude, hands yanking your top right over your head. It’s only when you’re in your pajamas, faced with your own reflection as you prepare to remove the makeup that had been so empowering to put on but you can now feel on your face like an unpleasant mask, that you allow the hot tears of anger and hurt to fall. You almost want to laugh at yourself, mouth curling into a bitter smile as you swipe the ponds cream all over your face. As you massage it in, making sure to focus on your eyes, the smile wavers, corners tugging down as moisture still leaks from your clenched eyelids.

You don’t have to be mean to yourself, you shouldn't. Not when the guy you’re in love with already does such a good job of it.

You purse your lips, trying to hold back sobs as you recall the images of him all over a girl you didn’t know at a party he’d convinced you to go to. You couldn’t even describe her, couldn’t remember what she looked like—all you saw was your Eddie, the guy who drove you to and picked you up from work, took you on cute dates involving picnic baskets, fields, lakes, empty lots to stargaze in, nearly empty movie auditoriums so the two of you could canoodle, your tongues tasting each other as the two lovers on screen professed their undying love.

He even bought you stuffed animals, would pretend to give them life and personalities to go with it, all to amuse you. Did arts and fucking crafts with you.

But anytime you so much as brought up the status of your relationship, he’d wave it off, claiming labels were for Petri dishes, not people.

You were his girl and that’s all that mattered.

It’s what you’d repeated in your head the first time you’d seen him playing with Bianca Anderson’s fingers while the two of them were tucked away in the corner of the hideout, after one of Corroded Coffin’s sets. And again when you’d stumbled out of Rick’s house party to see him laid out on the grass, his head in the lap of a former cheerleader from high school he used to admire, her head bowed to connect their lips and his hands in her hair.

By the time he was tugging at Tina’s hair, playfully shouldering her while they stood in front of the bonfire at another gathering, you’d stopped repeating it in your head. Not even when you watched her lead him to her car.

You lost count of how many times Eddie had made other girls his, too.

And like some pathetic worm with no backbone, you let him. Okay—it’s not like you could physically stop them, though tonight your drink had ended up all over him, maybe that put a little stutter in his plans. But there wouldn’t be a too if you just fucking stopped.

Just . . .stopped.

Stopped taking his calls, stopped answering your door for him, your window, let your co-worker take over the counter the moment he stepped in, stopped looking for his car, stopped thinking about him and that stupid fucking dimple, stopped thinking about how special you felt when he had your naked body pressed against his under the warmth of blankets, his rough fingertips tracing over your sweaty shoulder. How he’d always get so tender, pull you even closer and whisper how much you meant to him while pressing slow kisses to your face. How he never wanted to lose you, wouldn’t know what to do, couldn’t live. It was the sweetest agony.

Most of all, you wish he would stop being there in the morning, all soft breaths and fluttering lashes as he tried to be as close to you as he could, even in a deep slumber. It’s how you know he means it. He means everything he tells you. There is truth to those sweet nothings, declarations, proclamations. You know it.

And that’s why it all hurt so bad, because you know he cares about you as much as he says he does and he still always fucking hurts you, always breaks your heart, but because you know he cares, you’d just let him back in like some fucking clown.

He gets to break you over and over again and you let him because he always puts the pieces back together.

You know what people say about you—everyone knows the two of you are involved and they’d see him out and about with others. Your fumbling answers about what the two of you aren’t just make it clear to them that you’re a doormat and you can’t even deny it. Just avoid their pitiful looks thrown your way.

After washing your face, you take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror; eyes rimmed red, lashes clustering together, face etched in misery. When you can’t stand the person on the other side of the mirror any longer, you flip the light switch and leave the bathroom, pick your favorite tape to listen to, set the volume low and slip into bed.

You’d teetered with the idea of smoking a little, but that would just stave off the heartbreak. Might as well feel it in the moment while you still have the sense of mind before—

Knock, knock, knock.

A humorless chuckle escapes you, muffled into your pillow as your eyes slip shut. Sometimes by the front door, just about always by the window. You think it’s another one of his little relationship doorstops; can’t be serious with you if he uses your window to sneak into your house, it’s much too intimate to walk through your front door.

Of course, he can’t let you have a moment of peace, not even when you’re down. No, he has to fix you now. That’s how the toxic cycle goes. So, dutifully, you play your part, though this time, things have changed.

You toss the blankets off and pad over to your window but you don’t open it right away. Instead, you stare at him. Take him in.

Eddie is in different attire, shirt and jeans swapped out for one of his old club shirts and some sweats. His hair isn’t as voluminous, it’s wet. He’d had to shower to rid himself of your wine cooler. There’s no trace of the Eddie you saw at the party, this one has eyes filled with sorrow and depth, almost like he’s known nothing else. You know better.

Please, he mouths through the glass. You stare a beat longer before the latch is unlocked and he’s hastily pulling it open, clambering in ungracefully.

As you watch him gain his footing, part of you wants to taunt yourself about how you’ve let this man, so below your league and wonderful, ruin your life. He’s hot, sure, but you're hotter. That’s just the truth. You denied it a lot at the beginning of your shitty cherished relationship, felt so insecure to have a man like him paying you attention when he can have everyone. But he was no man. And he still had everyone along with you. Those pitting glances weren’t just because of what you let him put you through, it was because they knew you could do better.

For some reason, the idiot who got his shoe caught on the window sill is the one your heart wants.

God, you hate him.

Rolling your eyes, you go back to your bed, climbing back into your warm blankets. Your back is to him, yet you can still feel his hesitance, see the look on his face, how his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. His stare is intense but it doesn’t unnerve you. Not this time. You feel the bed dip as he climbs in behind you.

There’s still some distance between the two of you, you can tell he’s uncertain. Then, he scuttles forward until he’s pressed to your back, arm slipping around your middle to drag you impossibly closer.

He’s surrounding you, the scent of Eddie’s all-in-one shampoo and body wash filling your nostrils, underlying smell of the joint he’d smoked to calm his nerves before coming over, and the cheap body spray he’d soaked himself in to try and hide it.

“I didn’t fuck her,” he whispers, lips at your ear. “Swear I didn’t. Couldn’t.”

You don’t say anything, just stare at the poster of Roxette pinned to your wall. His arm tightens around you and you can feel his heart hammering against your back.

“I-I couldn’t do that to you,” he continues and you huff, that bitter smile from earlier returning. Eddie goes stiff behind you, but he has nothing to worry about. You won’t kick him out, won't toss him to the curb like you should. You both know you won’t. He knows you should, knows he hurts you and he honest to god doesn’t know why. Couldn’t tell anyone to save his own life.

He just—he just fucks shit up. It’s not self-sabotage because Eddie knows he risks losing you and he doesn’t want to, doesn’t ever want to exist in a world where you don’t want him, don’t want to be with him.

But he still does it anyway. Still goes and kisses girls knowing you’re watching, does worse when you’re not.

The worst part—other than hurting you—is that he doesn’t even want them. Not really. Other than in that moment, Eddie couldn’t give a single shit about them beyond being a Good Samaritan. It’s you he wants all the time.

You’re the only constant thing he needs in his life, wants around him all the time, craves, lusts after, loves, cherishes. For the rest of his life. But Eddie hurts you, and he doesn’t know why.

That’s why he can’t be your boyfriend. Evidently, he’d be a shit one. Not that he’s doing a spectacular job being your…whatever it is he was, whatever the two of you were.

Yes, he always fucks up, but he keeps part of you safe from him by not being your boyfriend. One day, you’ll leave him.

He knows it. It scares the shit out of him and he prays to deities he doesn’t really believe in that it won’t happen, that he’ll get this shit together and make right by you, but he knows you’ll leave him. You genuinely deserve better.

“I wish I didn’t know you,” Eddie tenses once more at your voice, at your statement. It’s said with nonchalance, like you were commenting on the weather. He relaxes, heart clenching in pain as he somehow holds you even tighter.

“I know.”

“I hate that I love you. Wish I would just stop.” You shimmy around until you’re facing him, Eddie’s hold on you loosens to allow it, and when you’re settled, he pulls you close again, your nose nudging along the neckline of his shirt.

“I know.” He whispers out again, vision blurring with unshed tears. He loves you, too. Neither of you ever say it directly, just make references to it.

“I will, though. Maybe not tonight, but I won’t always love you.” It’s said with certainty. You’ll take this treatment for now, but you know you won’t forever. Despite the pathetic place you’d found yourself in tonight, again, you’re making strides. Gone was the loser who would just watch him betray you after spending the entire day making you feel like the two of you were the only ones on earth who mattered. Tonight, you’d stepped in. You were growing more self aware. Soon, you would stop answering the door. Stop answering his calls. Stop loving him.

And you’d look back and cringe, maybe laugh with your friends about how stupid and naive you’d been. You’d move on, too. Meet someone who treats you as good as Eddie does when he isn’t sucking another girl’s face. They won’t kiss or fuck anyone else, they’ll only ever know you from the moment that spark ignites. You might worry from time to time, effects from Eddie, but they’ll gently coax it out of you, build your trust up and one day you won’t worry. All you’ll know is their love.

Yeah, you’d stop loving him.

Eddie makes an indistinguishable sound, you know he’s fighting sniffles. Can hear the emotion in his voice, “I know.”

You nuzzle your face into his chest before your cheek settles there, listening to the fast paced beating coming from within it and you wonder if it’ll happen tomorrow. If you’ll wake up, see Eddie sleeping in your bed, and have your first thought be how much you want him out of it and away from you without a trace of fondness for him. You’ll just wake up and not love him anymore.

You slip a leg between his to tangle your limbs, breathing in his scent as deeply as you can when your eyelids flutter shut.

And while you spend your last moments of consciousness hoping tonight’s the last night you’ll let him hold you, Eddie spends the rest of it wide awake, and hoping. Hoping if he doesn’t fall asleep, he won’t wake up to you telling him you don’t love him. Hoping he’ll miraculously become a better person for you overnight. Hoping he won’t lose you.

Hoping you’ll always be his girl.

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

#Eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction

710 notes · View notes

onlymingyus · 3 months

Text

Like We Just Met (teaser)

pairing; yoon jeonghan x jeon wonwoo x f reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

warnings; friends to lovers, reunited friends, mild dom!jeonghan, mild mlm, flashbacks to high school, threesome, unprotected sex, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, temperature play, wonwoo is able to lift the reader, pet names/nicknames, cameos from other members -- as always if i have left anything out and its glaring let me know.

w/c; 9.8k (920 this teaser)

a/n; thank you to @onlyseokmins for proofreading for me!

this fic will be released sunday 2/4 at 3 pm est to read it now subscribe to my patreon and click here

“Welcome to Eleva, Miss..."

He didn’t know your name. Furrowing your brows, you step forward and clear your throat as you offer the man your hand, letting him take it gently into his.

“Y/L/N.”

Your voice is meeker than you intended, but it was a bit daunting to see the long hallway with a single ornate door that seemed to loom in the distance. Was this the man who you were interviewing?

“Miss Y/L/N. I apologize; when Artistaire set this up, they didn’t give many details. It seems like that’s part of the interview process. I’m Hansol, the personal assistant of Mr. Yo–”

The name was hanging on the tip of Hansol’s lips when he smiled and tilted his head, thinking better of it.

“Supposed to be a surprise, isn’t it?”

He was charming but obviously not who you were interviewing. You smile at Hansol taking back your hand as he walks beside you towards the penthouse door.

“Yes, it’s a silly premise, honestly but it’s supposed to provide a “real” interview experience. The idea that my editor came up with was that this creates tension that the reader can feel through words.”

Hansol smiles, glancing over at you once again and giving you a quick appraising look before reaching for the door in front of him with a sigh.

“Seems like it works out. The articles are always interesting. May I take your keycard?”

You look confused for a split second until you remember the black and gold card in your fingers and lift it, handing it over to the man in front of you. With another grin, Hansol taps the card against a reader on the door and pushes it open for you, letting you go inside first.

“Mr. Y–” Laughing and once again catching himself, Hansol lifts his free hand to rub at the back of his neck before correcting his words. “My employer and the other gentleman you will be interviewing are right this way. Follow me, Miss Y/L/N. Also, if you need anything during your visit with us at Eleva, just ask for me personally, alright?”

Offering him a nod, you follow, lowering your eyes to your bag, ready to take out your things as you enter a large living area and your breath is taken away by not only the aesthetic of the place but also the floor and the ceiling windows, offering you the view you had imagined in the elevator.

“It’s stunning, right?”

A familiar voice causes your brows to furrow even as you take a step towards the windows. Why did that man sound so familiar?

Jeonghan tilts his head, looking at you from behind as you look out the window at the view. He could tell you were gorgeous even from where he was standing but he hadn’t seen your face just yet. You seemed to have been startled by his voice; that hadn’t been his intention but he did have that effect on people occasionally.

“My apologies; I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Yoon Jeon—”

“Jeonghan?”

Turning towards him, your eyes widening, you stare at him as if you had just seen a ghost. Swallowing hard, Hansol takes a step back towards Jeonghan, pursing his lips before offering him the penthouse key.

“If you need me, sir – “

“Then I’ll call you. You can go, Hansol.”

A smile pulls at Jeonghan’s lips as he steps towards you, putting the keycard into his suit jacket pocket. Dark eyes move over your face and body before the man you have known for years is within arms reach and he laughs in disbelief.

“No way…Kitten?”

Your eyes were searching Jeonghan so closely to make sure he was real that you hadn’t realized that another man had moved into the room. Hearing the nickname that you had once been called in high school by your two best friends, you glance to your right, only to take a step back in shock to see Wonwoo smiling at you.

“I– no one has called me that in a long time.”

Grinning, Jeonghan reaches out to take your hand, as you seem to almost stumble in surprise at seeing ghosts from your past. He wasn’t worried about the glass behind you breaking but he was concerned about you getting hurt from falling down, as unstable as you seemed on your feet.

“Well, no one but us called you that anyway.

It had been around a decade since you had seen either of your friends in person after the three of you had made promises to stay in touch. Graduation had come and gone and the promise became harder and harder to keep as each of you went in different directions.

You knew they were successful. Jeonghan’s family had always been successful so it was a clear path for him into business. Wonwoo, you had seen him as the face of many brands and the star of many dramas and movies. Meanwhile, your road to success had taken a bit longer and you were still climbing. Now your climb was looking like a shear cliff face as you looked at the two men in front of you with expectant looks in their eyes.

“Holy shit, you look great, Kitten.”

Wonwoo’s voice was quiet but warm, just as you remembered it. He had always been a comfort in your life when you were younger and you had found yourself cheering him on with each award he had received over his years of blooming into a renowned actor.

“Wonwoo… thanks.”

READ THE FULL FIC NOW ON PATREON

#jeonghan smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svthub #svt smut #jeonghan x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #teaser

463 notes · View notes

moongreenlight · 6 days

Text

Mafia!Price is NOT your fucking aesthetic. A full comprehensive list as to why.

He cooka da pizza!

He goes to church every Sunday. A massive Roman Catholic Church downtown. Ancient building with floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows depicting the life and loss of Christ. Full two hour masses that he always wears a suit to. At first it starts as some last-ditch attempt to absolve him of his guilt, but then it became habit.

And maybe it was his wife. Her parents were devout and just about keeled over when they found out their only daughter was married by a quick ceremony in the courthouse to a man they’d never met. Her mother was the worst, though it was to be expected. Likely didn’t know John had won his new bride when her husband didn’t have the funds left to pay off his debt. Fucking miracle she hadn’t yet done the math and realized his first child was born seven months later. He’d be persecuted to no end.

There was a target on his back since the wedding. Always put him in the hot seat on Sunday evening dinners while his wife was trying to wrangle their children into eating their vegetables. Drilled into him about work and life and why he always seemed too busy to prioritize “something worthwhile” in his life. Mother sets in on him like she’d been waiting for the opening all evening.

“So, John. Remind us what you do for work.” Accusatory. Glaring over her barely touched plate of roast at him.

“Contracting. Bit of this and that.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes, if only barely.

“Hm. And what does that entail? Can’t keep you as busy as you swear you are.” She’s unabashed. Her husband doesn’t share the sentiment. He sighs into his glass of brandy and tries to catch her eye.

“Don’t do much hands-on these days. Project management and bookkeeping for me now. Brought on a few guys to do the grunt. You remember from when we did your bathroom, I’m sure.” He doesn’t shy away from the challenge. Principled.

“Boys would do well to have some structure. Bet they haven’t been in a church since they were baptized.” She ignores his parry and switches to what she really wants to talk about after looking over to her daughter who is all but force-feeding them florets of broccoli. Typical.

He finally wore down after a Christmas where the only gift he got from them was a deep brown leather-wrapped bible. Used. Split down the spine, dog-eared pages. Like they’d stolen it from the shelf in the pew for the dolts who weren’t well-mannered enough to bring their own.

From then, it had become a welcome escape from reality. Church in the morning. 8am service, because he was up before the sun anyway. Sipping coffee in the kitchen beforehand, pouring over a heavy binder with the title ‘family finance’ scrawled in his wife’s delicate handwriting across the front.

He could hear her wrestling with their two boys in the bathroom upstairs. Their indignant screeching clueing him in that he should probably get up and help, but he always tried to steal a few more moments to himself. Calm before the storm.

The boys have sour looks on their faces when they stomp down the stairs not five minutes later, though they’re nothing in comparison to their mother who’s only a few steps behind. They get the deep furrow in their brows from him, the bitter curl of their lips from her.

“Glad you’re enjoying your slow start, John. Really.”

He should feel worse for not helping. Tries to lay her hackles back down by snapping the binder shut and pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. She barely pauses to accept it before pushing past to pack her purse. Four bibles, his ratty one, her perfectly white one with different colored sticky notes poking out the sides, and two smaller children's bibles that she’d shove in their laps for appearance sake. Snacks for the boys, and a flash of the handle of her small handgun- safetied and then shoved into the bottom of her tote.

“Should’ve shouted f’you needed help. Can’t hear a thing down here.” The boys snicker when he winks over at them. They’re outfitted in their Sunday best. Slacks with damp finger marks on the thighs from where she’d tried to smooth out wrinkles. Buttoned-down shirts that they were already tugging at the collars of. Hair gelled back, no doubt the reason for their griping earlier.

She doesn’t find it nearly as funny as they do. Shoots him a nasty look over her shoulder before disappearing into the spare room to grab a pair of low heels.

“We’re already late. If we have to sit in the back again, you’ll never hear the end of it.” It’s not an empty threat. They’d missed one service and some aunt had told her mother in passing. Took three months to get her to stop bringing it up.

“S’not even half seven. Takes fifteen minutes to get there.”

It’s supposed to mollify her, but it has the adverse effect. She looks ready to throw a shoe at him when she sits on the bottom stair to tug them on. He raises his hands in surrender.

“Easy.”

Somehow all four of them make it to the car in one piece. He sends a message to Kyle before they leave telling him to save them a space toward the front to err on the side of caution.

#I'm mafia-baiting sorry #This was really just to get me back into posting my writing lol #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #sephspeaks #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #price cod #captain john price #john price #captain price #price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #mafia au

315 notes · View notes

morallyinept · 5 months

Text

UNWRAP ME - A Frankie Morales Christmas One Shot

Summary: You gift yourself to Frankie as his early Christmas present, and he can't wait to unwrap you.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. Images just for aesthetic, no reference to Reader.)

Word Count: 4.1k

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/oral F receiving/Frankie's curls are let loose.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Hot, spicy Christmas fun to kick off my 12 Days Of XXX-MAS, with that hot, spicy tamale, Frankie. 🥵 There is some Frankie Spanish, I've not provided translations as it's easy enough to Google if you're curious, but you can probably figure it out. 😉

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

“I’ve got you something for Christmas, baby. But I want to give it to you a little early.” You call out to him.

You can hear the familial heavy padding of his feet up the stairs, as you slick on a coat of matte lipstick in the ensuite bathroom.

You pucker into the mirror over the sink regarding yourself, and smile at what you see with that devilish glint lingering in your eye.

You can only imagine what he’ll make of it, and that thought pulses hot through your veins in wanton excitement.

You spritz on a faint mist of your favourite scent - one that you know will make his mouth water too - and linger discreetly in the doorway, watching Frankie now rifling around in the wardrobe, completely oblivious.

He has his broad back to you, and you can see him putting laundry away in neat piles on the shelves inside the doors. His grey t-shirt rides up as he reaches into the furthest crevices of the wardrobe, revealing the tanned, fleshed divots of his lower back.

His worn, scuffed jeans are slung low on his hips and those muscles flex and ripple under his skin as he stretches, and your own mouth begins to water.

“Did you do the ironing?” You question, perplexed.

“Yes, I did the ironing,” he grunts, in a voice lazily mimicking yours.

You see him shake his head; those wild curls growing unruly at the nape of his neck. The faded blue cap is slapped on his head in a regular trademark manner. Even when indoors, Frankie can’t abstain from plonking it on to keep his waves under check.

“And it’s not Christmas yet. So, don’t think by giving me a present early that you’re going to get one early, hermosa. Sé lo que estás haciendo.” Frankie confirms, his voice being absorbed into the clothes, but you can hear him smiling as he says it, and that soft snort as he chuckles to himself.

“Are you sure about that?” You question, smirking.

“Si, bebita. I’m not falling for it. You’ve just gotta wait until-”

He glances over his shoulder, stops instantly as though you’ve put him on pause, and then does a slow full turn. His face is unreadable; his lips pursed as his eyes seemingly cloud over for a few moments.

Grinning, you beckon him over, but he’s rooted to the spot; his legs suddenly feeling that if he takes a step forward he’ll collapse prone into the carpet.

Frozen in all the possibilities of what’s unfolding in front of his eyes as he looks you up and down, and his cheeks start to glow brighter than Rudolph's nose.

Frankie swallows, his mouth suddenly very dry and claggy like he’s been licking said carpet all night. Your eyes lock onto his; just as cavernous and darkening, feeling like you can fall right into them as they drink you up.

You study his face; like a chameleon camouflaging against its surroundings, Frankie’s face works through every single shade of shock, astonishment and heated lust there is on the colour scale.

“Well, shit...” He baulks, tossing the wardrobe door shut behind him. “¿Es todo esto para mí?” Frankie questions, barely able to take you all in.

You can see him visibly sweating.

“It’s all for you, baby. Feliz Navidad.” You smile, stepping fully into the bedroom from the ensuite doorway.

“Fuck.” Frankie remarks with a look like he’s just been punched in the scruffy jaw and can’t quite comprehend the audacity of it.

“Are you going to unwrap me?” You ask, with a villainous smirk and he’s utterly lost for words.

Your body is wrapped in scarlet silk and velvet lingerie. Your breasts are sculpted to perfection inside a corset-style basque; the front lined with several velvet bows in the same colour that holds it all closed around your ample mounds.

All tied up neatly and tightly that you’re threatening to spill out over it at any moment.

You’re wearing a matching red thong, along with red lace-topped stockings, and your satin heels that match. A real candy cane dream, all shimmery and scrumptious before him as he licks his lips.

Your eyes sparkle at him through subtle, yet smokey make-up and red lips.

He perches clumsily on the end of the bed, somewhat remembering where it is from muscle memory, and equally missing as he stumbles, sinking backwards, legs buckling underneath him.

His hand navigates over his mouth, scratching at his grey-speckled beard and looking you up and down like he doesn’t know where to start.

Like all his fucking Christmases have just come at one.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Frankie questions, his eyes moving between your breasts and pussy each time he looks you over. Shit, he doesn’t even know where the hell to look.

You come and sit beside him on the bed, resting back on your elbows so he can run his shaky hands up and down the velvet and silken ensemble.

He tweaks at one of the bows, smoothing it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Well, you did do the laundry.” You chuckle, and he tickles across your stomach with those roaming, thick fingers.

“You look-” He stutters out a sigh, eyes big and a smirk on the cusp of cracking his face. He’s staring you down as though you’re a piece of meat he can’t wait to tear into, salivating.

“I know.” You wink at him.

Frankie leans in and kisses you, his lips running over yours smoothly and softly. Soft, gentle clicks fill the room as he kisses all along your bottom lip; suckling it gently before running his mouth across your cheek and towards your neck, inhaling your perfume.

The soft nips in between his lingering kisses from those puffy, pink lips of his begin to engulf you, and your head lolls back as he kisses along your jaw and throat, planting carnage inside your pores.

“Fuck, I’m so hard.” Frankie whispers, looking into your cleavage and then up at your eyes.

His dick, throbbing and swollen, feels like it'll fire off and fly round the room at the sight of you swathed in all this sumptuous velvet and lace, all just for him.

Your hand slips down to his crotch and squeezes gently over the denim. “Mmm... yeah you are.” You grin.

“You kill me, hermosa.” He whines, almost payhetically.

Your heart’s beating faster and louder inside your chest as you lean up towards him slowly; zoning in on his mouth and crush your lips against his. Groaning at the feeling of the way those fuzzy lips graze against yours, coursing electricity through your arms and legs like you’ve stuck your wet fingers in a socket.

You can taste his tongue and the remnants of coffee beans and spearmint gum, as he slips it into your mouth and massages it with his deliciously.

Fuck.

Taking his sweet time, Frankie starts pulling on the top two ribbons, slowly revealing more of that soft, supple skin that smells of flowers and fruit; thoroughly enjoying unwrapping his gift as your breasts spill out at him.

His dark, brown eyes flit up to your face now again to read you, to relish in the feeling of what he’ll find underneath it all; the reward of your perky nipples waiting for him, and that sopping, wet pussy that he can bury his face into for hours and never get bored.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Frankie murmurs into your face; the warmth from his breath settling into your pores. "All for me, all for me..." He sighs, beside himself.

You smile; a slow, insidious beam unfolding on your lips much like The Grinch. "All for you, baby."

The ribbons are undone and your breasts revealed to him fully; it’s like he’s seeing them for the first time all over again, and Frankie could just weep at the sight of them.

He runs his fingertips across them, and you’re watching as they circle tantalisingly around your nipples; the calloused pads of them feeling the tiny bumps rising around your areolas as they harden.

He smooches over them, slipping his tongue around the peak where he sucks it into his eager, hot mouth.

You watch as he flicks that wet, fleshy muscle in his mouth back and forth over it, biting down on your lip as he gropes and squeezes the other inside his hand.

He manoeuvres himself between your legs, sliding carefully on his belly like he would creeping up on the enemy, with a mouth full of your tits.

You pull off his cap and toss it across the bed, running your fingers through his mussed hair as he suckles on you, pulling a little tighter with his teeth, making you hiss.

"Mmm," you sigh out at the feel of it. It tingles all the way down into your clit.

He crawls further up you, running kisses up your throat and the side of your face as he gets close. His long, thick fingers claw up and down your inner thigh, skimming his thumb across the lace at the top of your stockings.

He hums out in dreamy satisfaction and it’s warm inside your ear. You love him like this, free to roam your body and play with it. You’re unapologetically clawing at him and wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in closer.

You can feel his cock, straining inside the stonewash denim to be freed, pressing heavy against your thigh. Hear how he groans with need as you grind against it.

Your mouths run all over each other; absorbing those sounds he makes snuffling out of his nose and from the back of his throat, creating plentiful melodies inside of your ears that you can tune in to all day. Frankie FM.

His hands are roaming your body, squeezing, kneading, pinching. His lips part and his eyes open up as he stares at you as you feel his fingers trail down to your centre.

You can see the subtle gold flecks inside of his chocolate irises and can make shapes in them; find yourself lost in the galaxy of them, that’s how deep they pull you in when he’s this close and on top of you.

He glances down at his fingers pulling against the thong, and wrenches it upwards. You buck and groan as it grazes against your swelling clit.

“These, are the tiniest fuckin’ panties I’ve ever seen.” Frankie husks as he nips on your lobe.

You giggle.

“I could literally tear them off.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, they’re brand new.” You playfully scold.

“I don’t give a fuck.” He growls as he breathes against your cheek. Momentarily you feel a sharp tug and hear the lace tear with ease. “I’ll open my gift how I want. Esto es todo mio.”

“Mmm,” you whine.

He rolls onto his side and smirks propping himself up on his elbow and pulls a piece of the shredded thong out from under your ass. He tosses it over his shoulder casually and smirks accomplished.

"That's better," he says.

You’re spread wide for him, feeling the yummy tingles of his fingers blaze trails down your body, stroking along your arm, over your hip and teasing around your pussy lips; barely touching them each time he ventures there between your legs.

Ghosting over your labia and avoiding your clit; the tiniest of skin-on-skin contact that makes you shudder and claw at the duvet in anticipation.

"Frankie..." You hiss as the goosebumps flood your skin.

Breathing heavier into his mouth as his tongue swims around yours when he leans over and finds your lips again.

His index and middle fingers split across the outside of your cunt that you can feel is slick and warm, and then when he sweeps back up again, he gently nudges your clit this time, sending your body into a rhythm of tingles and shocks.

“You like that, huh?” Frankie croons in delight at your reaction, he watches your face as he begins circling his middle finger over your swollen clit; tapping at first ever so gently and then rubbing in tantalising circles and applying a little pressure more and more each time he does a three-sixty on it.

"Baby... ah, feels so good." You whine.

You marvel at how he can simply play you like an instrument, plucking your stings, eliciting different tones out of you.

You watch him bring his fingers to his mouth and suck them before he slides them back between your sticky folds.

“Frankie…” You're fisting at his t-shirt.

“What? What do you want, hermosa?” He teases as he probes against your hole, barely dipping in and then withdrawing and rubbing your clit again.

“Fuck, please…” You husk. “Need your fingers inside me.”

“Like this?” You feel him breach, a lone digit sliding all the way in, up to the hilt of his knuckle and then retreating.

“Frankie!” You grab at his wrist, but he subdues you easily, pinning your hands above your head and clutching them together in his other hand.

“Stay still, baby.” He smirks.

He slips his fingers inside you again, pumping in and out slowly, grinning at you with the lewd, wet sounds they make echoing around the bedroom.

“So fucking wet for me…”

You can feel it, the warmth prickling at your limbs as it starts to spread through your bloodstream. He’s stroking deep; you can feel it bloom deep inside your belly, that delicious pressure as he curls his fingers.

It’s beginning to get too much; the intensity of the deep finger fuck pulling and unravelling your seams slowly as you brew and bubble around the edges whilst Frankie stares you down like a lion stalking its prey in the tall grass.

He goes faster, the squelches louder, as he pulls your pleasure out of you with skilled ease.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me… Quiero que acabes para mí,” he soothes.

Your thighs shake as the pressure builds and then erupts, flooding your body with warmth and a tingly glow that makes you giggle through your pants.

He pulls out his fingers and taps against your clit with them as you come. A little trick he likes to indulge in now and again to watch your thighs go berserk as your orgasm is torn from your core and shunted into your clit.

“Oh fuck!” You cry as you shake and gasp.

His other hand on the back of your neck, massages into the skin as your own hands run the length of his tan face and around the back of his head. His middle finger keeps nudging and rubbing on your sweet spot that's buzzing and tingling wildly under his touch.

He then dips his finger inside your hole, drenching it in your slick and back out again, lubing it up and rubbing it over the nub with a slick, circular movement.

Your thighs are constantly quaking, pushing you towards overstimulation as he builds you up again.

“Frankie…” You gasp out on a muted whisper, the sound of your squalls getting lost somewhere inside your throat.

"You've got another one," he husks.

Frankie kisses down the side of your neck and collarbone, before reaching your nipple again and takes it in his mouth, flicking his tongue around it like his finger is with your clit, matching the tempo.

Your hips press up into his fingers, winding around and jolting as he works that magic spell on your happy button as you come again, muttering incoherently into his mouth.

"Si, hermosa..."

He then stops and squeezes both your tits together with his hands, and tongues and sucks the warm nipples inside your swollen areolas as he nestles himself between your legs.

“God, you’re fuckin' hot,” Frankie whispers. You see him reach down and adjust himself over his jeans, and you can see how hard he is for you by that familiar, ominous shadow.

He pushes both your legs up, holding them under the back of your knees, and it pushes your ass and pussy up to his face.

He wastes no time in running his lips over your wet, sticky flesh and tasting you.

Letting his tongue circle around your clit then dip inside your cunt where he can taste that delicious honey pot centre, before suckling back on your clit again.

He licks long, fat stripes up your seam and eyes you darkly whilst he does it.

“Mmm, baby.” You whine, fisting into his messy hair. Curls splay over his forehead and you grip onto his tufts behind his ears, tugging his face further into your pussy.

He groans out contentedly - he fucking loves it when you do that.

You can hear him breathe and pant around your slit drenching him, quenching his thirst. Warm air from his mouth is blown onto it as he looks up at you with those dark eyes as he feasts.

Your fingers weave through the soft silk of his hair, petting him and stroking as he feasts expertly without coming up for air. Your fingers tousle it before you twist it around your fingers.

You tug harder on his silky roots and he grunts in response as he gnaws on your clit, making your legs judder.

“Mmmmaaahhh!” You whine out, your back arching and your body twisting.

His lips are clamped around you; his tongue lapping ferociously, and as you’re coming, he make delicious sounds in satisfaction too.

“Mmm, mmm...” He ribs through his lips.

Frankie clutches onto your stomach, keeping you as still and anchored as he can whilst you thrash about; his fingers slightly pressed into your gut and making you ride that wave and feel it all.

He licks up and down, as one of your hands goes to your head like you can’t believe it; the other still gripping inside his hair and pulling him further onto you, sending your body into a sweet dance of convulsion as he delves deep with his relentless tongue fucking.

“Oh, ohhh… fuuuccck! Frankie!”

He reaches up and grabs your hand as your body trembles and begins shaking about under him; he grips it tight, locking his fingers around yours, and watches from between your legs as you come hard around his mouth, filling it with sweet nectar he drinks down.

The lace from the stockings graze against his scruff and get caught in it as you try to crush his head. It’s a spectacular show of fucks and oh God’s thrown into the air as your body succumbs to his tongue.

"Baby, you're so good at that..." You look down at him smiling, and beside yourself as he fumbles with his belt, pushing his jeans down.

"I know," he replies, smugly. He crawls up your body, his cock dragging against your folds and smearing himself against your skin.

You reach for him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he buries his thick, hard cock inside of you.

That single sheath of him into you takes your breath away, and for a moment it’s like you can’t breathe. All oxygen stripped from the room and floating in a void of nothing where it’s only Frankie.

"Oh my God!" You pant.

He runs his thumb over your bottom lip and you kiss it delicately as he slowly builds his pace; fucking into you with deep, grinding movements so that his cock can savour every inch of your cunt that feels implausible around him.

You cling onto him, feeling his skin burn under your fingertips; the muscular curve of his arms; the smooth paunch of his stomach under his t-shirt as your hands run across him.

You can hear his breath pelting inside your ear as he trails his mouth up to your earlobe before taking it between his teeth and biting it gently, sending your pussy to its knees in subjugation of him.

"Frankie, fuck," you groan.

"Feels so fuckin' good..." he agrees.

You feel those little butterfly kisses from his eyelashes where he blinks against your skin; the soft graze of his patchy scruff catching against your throat.

You both moan out in sweet relief; your foreheads pressing against one another’s, as you’re reconnected, feeling like you should never be separated again.

The tip of his hawkish nose brushes against yours; his mouth crooking into a smile as your pants increase again, and he feels that yummy tightening around his dick, thoroughly enjoying the show of watching you come undone around him.

“Harder,” you whine to him, as he dives deeper into you, feeling every inch of him pack you out; lighting up those sparkly neurons inside your head like triggers leading to an almighty explosion of Christmas glitter and embers.

He pins your hands down above your head, resting his full body weight on them as his hips pummel into you, becoming more intense with each deep stroke.

“Fuck, Frankie!” You cry out as he breathes with you, trying to keep himself under control as you call out his name, but it’s useless; he craves everything you’re giving to him right now - the looks, the sounds, the feel of you tightening and squeezing around his cock.

“You wanted it harder.” He puffs with that crooked grin you want to taste.

Your back arches again as he brushes against the sweet spot inside, and makes it vibrate heavily within you.

Your legs wrap tighter around him, cinching him into you deeper; your fingers reach for his as he lets go of your wrists, interlocking with his digits as he kisses you once more, your mouths exploring each other all over again.

He growls out as you lock your feet together at the ankles as he ploughs deeper and harder into you; the bed creaking and squeaking under you both.

He reaches down, thumbing your clit as he thrusts harder into you. Heels pressed into his butt cheeks as he works you up again, never really letting you wander far from the midst of another enticing, sweet orgasm.

You can hear the sound of his cock inside you; that wet, heavy slapping noise as he fucks harder, works his hips faster.

He can’t keep his eyes off of you, staring at your body cinched up in the basque; all those curves and angles of you accentuated by it, tits bouncing over the top of it.

You gasp, biting down on your lip, your head straining back into the duvet as he feels you explode around his cock again; those little tremors around the head before he feels you squeeze tight around him and then release again.

"Yes! Frankie!" You call with a dying voice.

He wants to come inside you, wants you to feel what you’re doing to him. What you always fucking do to him.

You can see the need he has for you inside of his eyes; frantic and desperate. You push him onto his back and sit on top of him, lowering yourself slowly onto his thick cock.

"Yeah, baby. Like that... oh fuck." He groans as you rock up and down on him, his hands gripping around your hips, moving you into a steadily, deep rhythm that makes him bend and break.

“Ride me, querida!” Frankie hisses, encouragingly. Unable to comprehend that this could ever stop feeling so good.

You twirl and grind down on him as he pushes up with his hips, pulling you down onto his chest so he can kiss you again.

He crosses his arms over your back and hammers up into you. Heels of his feet pressing into the bed as he fucks you hard.

"Oh shit, shit!" You groan.

He ploughs in faster, feeling your slick walls tighten around him and making him work that bit harder to press on through into your cunt as it strangles and contracts around him.

He’s insubordinately beautiful, clutching onto him as you call out his name again and again with each hard stroke that he delivers inside of your squelching hole.

"I'm gonna come, fuck... I'm gonna come!" He wheezes.

Groaning loudly, Frankie’s lost as he comes; like he’s been tossed into a new dimension where nothing makes sense or is recognisable.

He forgets how to breathe for a moment; all he can see is you pulling him back towards you, saving him and rasping out with him as you both combust in tune with one another.

His cock is still twitching as he pulls out, you take a hold of it, pumping him a few times and making him groan and smirk in delight as you feel his spend dribble out of you and seep into the messy, creased duvet.

“Holy shit,” Frankie chokes on a throaty gasp.

He runs his hand around his throat a few times, beside himself before you lean down over him; his body weak and shaky.

You nuzzle into him, planting kisses over his cheeks as his fingers fiddle with the velvet bows on your basque.

His eyes are sleepy looking, like he’s dosed up on some wonder drug called pussy and he never wants off this high.

Frankie pulls you further on top of him; crushing you agaisnt his chest, his cock nestled nicely between your thighs. Sweaty curls are stuck to his forehead and he's never looked so good.

He spends the next few minutes just lost inside your mouth, holding you tight and letting his hand reach down and have a generous squeeze of your ass cheeks.

“Gracias por mi regalo, hermosa.” He sighs, contentedly. “Best gift ever.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” You smile, running your lips over his cheeks and fuzzy whiskers.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales triple frontier #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters #jett's writing #christmas stories

452 notes · View notes

badingsm · 8 months

Text

Warnings: Too much fluff, suggestive contents, cursing, and Aunt Yelena!

To those who requested, here you go! 😗

Note: I needed some help from AI for the description of the house because I suck with describing things, otherwise, the rest is all mine.

"Baby, I'm home!"

"In the kitchen!" You informed Natasha, your wife, who had just gotten home from the tower after she submitted her post-mission reports.

Currently, you're tending to your hunger in the kitchen, munching on the delivered chicken wings, lasagna, donuts, and ice cream that you've bought online.

"Hi," Natasha's head poked from the doorway, looking through the variety of foods that you've got all to yourself, smiling amusingly at you, "You hungry, moya lyubov?"

"Don't be homophobic, I'm starving." You frowned, hating the interruption but loving the way her lips had collided into your skin, missing her already even though she had just left a couple of hours ago. "Is Willow still sleeping?"

"Mhm," She smirked while wiggling her brows suggestively as she traced her heated palms around your shoulder, "You know, I've been missing you a lot lately because you always have to tend our Willow."

You raised your brow at her, rolling your eyes. "She's eight months old and in need of some caring hands to guide her."

"Oh, baby," Natasha tutted, "I need some caring hands too, you know...while our daughter is still not in need of yours."

You pursed your lips at that, silently looking back and forth between your wife, who's made you feel really hot, and your food, the one that you can't stop thinking about since last night. Seriously torn between the two.

"Would you let me eat my ice cream on your abs?" You looked up at her with doe eyes, defeatedly sighing, making her chuckle lowly as she looked at you with lustful ones.

"Deal."

There was a quick exchange of sloppy kisses, and the next thing you knew, you were both locked up in your shared room with soundproofed walls, seeing white.

Two months later..

"Love, wakey wakey," Natasha mumbled in your ear, shaking your sleeping form gently.

"Piss off!" You groaned, turning away from her, which made her chuckle, kissing the exposed skin on your neck. "Natalia, I'm telling you, if I don't get my sleep, I will make sure that you don't get to see your daughter ever and-"

You didn't get to finish your sentence because soon, your body voluntarily stood up on its own, making your way quickly into the bathroom when something went up into your throat.

Natasha was quick enough to rush to your side, helping you while she rubbed your back comfortingly. "You okay?"

"I'm puking my guts out, and you're still asking me that?" You scoffed at her sarcastically in mid-session.

"Okay, sorry, I was just asking." Natasha frowned at the attitude but decided to ignore it instead. "Why are you throwing up anyway? Did you eat all the cookies again?"

"Hey, it's Wanda's cookies!" You protested, cleaning yourself because you felt icky after flushing the toilet bowl. "Her cookies are special. I don't know why; maybe she's putting her magic on them, but they're really yummy, so don't blame it on me. Blame Wanda."

"Mhm, whatever you say," Natasha uttered unconvincingly, causing you to pout at her through the mirror as you brushed your teeth. "I'm thinking about visiting the compound with Willow later; would you like to come?"

"Why?"

"Her aunts and uncles are bugging me." She pursed her lips while brushing her teeth beside you also. "They said that I've kept her all to myself, and they want to see her."

It's true, though.

You were staying in some hidden land in Ohio, where only Natasha and you had access. You both have asked Wanda to make your house invisible in the eyes of the others in order for you to be safe, which she easily agreed to.

Your home is the perfect combination of aesthetics, simplicity, and elegance, making it the ideal paradise for a family. Its façade exudes timeless charm with its deep color palette and graceful architectural lines. As you enter, an open-plan living space greets you, characterized by a clean, streamlined design and plenty of natural light streaming in through the large windows. The fully equipped kitchen, decorated with sleek cabinets and modern appliances, seamlessly connects to the cozy dining area, making it the center of family gatherings. Upstairs, you'll discover quiet and spacious bedrooms, including the master suite, a peaceful hideaway with an en-suite bathroom and dressing room. The meticulously landscaped backyard provides a peaceful outdoor oasis for relaxation and play, completing this elegant yet unpretentious family residence.

In addition to that, you've stopped taking missions, wanting to focus solely on your daughter and family. For now, at least.

So..

You smiled, longing for your friends while being a mother. Wanting to talk about your journey of motherhood with Natasha and Willow with your friends would surely make your day.

"Sure, let's go and make some trouble on Tony's property!"

"She's grown so much!" Kate gushed while Yelena held your guys' daughter tightly in her chest. The blonde melted at the sight of her niece clinging onto her (not that she'll ever admit that), like they had already made some connection after seeing and clinging to each other for ten minutes. "She's so cute. I want to have one-"

"What?!" Yelena widened her eyes, slightly raising her voice in shock, causing Willow to pout at her with wide orbs, thinking that her aunt was yelling at her. She saw the tears gathering in the corner of your daughter's eyes, causing her to panic and feel guilty at the same time she comforted her, "Oh, no, no, no, no—I'm sorry, it's not you. It's Kate Bishop, I promise!"

"Do you keep saying my full name just to point out that you know it?"™ Kate sighed, making faces at Willow to make her laugh.

"Yes," Yelena proudly stated, "I know a lot about you. Mother, Eleanor. Arrested for-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Kate quickly mumbled, stopping Yelena from discussing her family history in front of you. "Can I hold her now? You've been holding her for so long already."

Yelena glared at her, "No."

"Come on! Let's take turns."

"Um, excuse me," You interrupted them both. "My daughter's not a toy; I just want to remind you guys, you know, in case you forgot, that's all."

"I'm still mad at you," The blonde told you pointedly, her attention shifting into you. "You should've told me, so I gave my sestra some shovel talk."

"Yeah," You cringed, looking at Natasha, who was laughing quietly at your side, "Let's not do that. Not really cool, dude."

You bid your goodbyes after that, leaving Natasha with Yelena, Kate, and the others, letting them meet and bond with your daughter, chuckling lowly as you heard Natasha in your earshot while you find your way to the medbay, where you're sure Bruce and Tony were.

"Shovel talk? Really?"

"Good afternoon, gentlemen!" You greeted loudly, not bothering to knock as you entered the lab. Bruce jumped slightly from his seat while Tony had just looked up from his sciencey tech to blink at you before turning his attention back to the equipment, causing you to frown and say, "Hey, didn't you miss me?"

"No." Tony stuck his tongue out at you childishly, making you gasp in offense. "See? We bond over our ego and pride. I told you before, you should've just married me instead of Red."

"Okay, first of all, I'll tell Pepper that you said that." You smirked teasingly when he widened his eyes in panic. "And secondly, dude, that's fucking disgusting, so fuck you. Lastly, fuck you very much because I feel disgusting now."

"Hey, Y/n," Bruce gently cut in his greeting, "How are you?"

"I'm fine." You shrugged. "We've brought Willow along, though."

"Really?" Tony looked up at you with interest. You nodded as an answer, causing him to sprint off the room, shouting, "You should've started with that!"

Now that you're finally alone, you've turned to Bruce.

"Thank god the nosy is finally gone!" You breathed out lowly, resulting in some manly chuckles from him. You laughed with him for quite a while before turning serious and mumbling.

"Bruce, we have a mission."

"Hey, baby," Natasha mumbled from your side. You're all gathered in the dining area in the compound, having some dinner together, courtesy of Tony's credit card. "Where have you been a while ago?"

"Bruce," You replied shortly with a shrug, munching onto your fries and dipping them in the ice cream that you'd specifically asked for yourself.

"Why?"

"Too many questions, Natalia." You pursed your lips, looking over Thor, who's playing with Willow to keep her attention away from you. "Hey, Thunder, show her some tricks!"

"Absolutely not!" Natasha reprimanded quickly, turning her attention to the team with full authority. "No tricks, no weapons, no fighting, or anything around my daughter, understood?"

"Copy." All of them replied with an eye roll, causing the former assassin to glare at them in warning.

"Hey, Romanoff, you've got a cake here!" Sam called Natasha from the doorway, having just gotten home from his mission in Nebraska. He dropped the sealed cake in front of your wife, making the redhead frown.

"I didn't order anything," Natasha mumbled cautiously. She was being extremely careful when she opened it; her trained senses and alert mode were all turned on, not wanting to put anyone in harm's way just in case there was a bomb inside the box.

"Couldn't you be any slower?" Yelena groaned impatiently from her chair.

Natasha gazed at her with furrowed brows and scolded, "Shut up!"

"You're such a mom!"™

"It's because I... am..." Natasha's sentence had died down in her tongue when she finally opened the box. It was your guys' favorite cake from the store down the block. She blinked owlishly at the dedication written on the cake, trying to make sure that she wasn't hallucinating in any way. The redhead read it out loud again, still not wanting to believe it.

Hi, Mama! We'll see you in March!

"What does this mean?" Natasha gazed at you, already tearing up. "We'll? Meaning.."

You nodded eagerly, sobbing uncontrollably, "We're having twins, you sharpshooter!"

"Oh, my god! This is amazing, baby!" Natasha lunged at you with kisses, not caring about the teasing whistles that she got from the team. "Thank you! I'm so happy, moya lyubov!"

You chuckled at her, kissing her passionately while she returned the sentiment with the same intensity, only breaking apart when you heard Yelena shouting about something that had you gasping with a horrified look when she began running away with your daughter.

"Fuck yes! Willow's mine now!"

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #soft natasha romanoff #marvel

443 notes · View notes