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#mcu kinktober
1800jjbarnes · 5 months
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◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟒: 𝐂𝐮𝐦 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲/𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐦 - 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 ◇
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My, My, My
【Synopsis】 : Stevie couldn't help it. Every time he saw you, he felt himself grow heavy in his slacks. You were everything he needed. And he needed you now.
『W.C』 :  1.94k
-> Genre: Pure Smut. No plot woops.
Paring: Switch/DomLeaning!Steve x Switch/SubLeaning!Reader
[Warnings] : This is messy. Cum eating. Unprotected sex. Making out. Swearing. Multiple orgasms. Dirty talk. Pet names. This is one big sticky mess, hehe.
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Even though he's never shown it, Steve is a sensitive man. In more ways than one. His cock always felt so full, day in, day out and most of the time he had no control over how much of a mess he makes each time he came. He normally can keep it on the down low, fucking his fist night after night to get it all out of his system by the next morning.
He would spend most of his time wishing for more. But alas, he accepted the cards he had been delt. Being from the 40s, he had grown to notice the difference between women back then 'til now. They were all so much for confident, and proud. Not that, thats a bad thing. Its just Steve...he's intimidated.
But then you showed up in his life.
Such a pretty, perfect, shy, little you... he could feel himself be constantly wet. Precum soaked his boxes every time you were around. Your smile, the way the smell of your perfume was the most delectable scent he’d ever had the pleasure of inhaling. Even just the way you walk, or sit, or jump around. When you get shy around him and blush like a little flower... And don't get him start on your laughter... Fuck.
You were a walking sex dream to him and he knew he was done for.
When he first got to finally have you, he was making out with you in the hallway in the compound. The floor that belongs to yours, his and Bucky’s room. But things lasted very short as he had to sprint suddenly away without another word to you making you feel a slight thing of guilt in your gut thinking that you might have caused something wrong, since you weren't the most experienced person...
But in truth, he wasn’t about to look you in the face and tell you he just came in his pants alone just from kissing your plump lips. He felt more embarrassed at the fact you were able to make him come without the need to touch him. It took every fibre in his being not to whine out a shaky deep groan while he felt your lips so desperately on his. He had his hands squeezing your hips a little tighter than before while his cock started to throb painfully in his slacks. He still had to resist the urge to moan out when your tongue laced with his. Making his balls tighten before his cock ultimately started pumping hot ropes of cum, emptying himself in the now soaked fabrics of his underwear.
He turned the corner quickly, as his chest heaved for more air. His body felt like it was on fire, and he hated himself slightly at the fact he had such a short orgasm. He palmed his cock softly, readjusting himself, hitting his head against the wall when it started to twitch again. It took him everything not to say fuck it then and there and pull himself out so he could finish pumping every drop out until he was dry. or better yet, seducing you to help him.
And if kissing was going to be his problem. Then he was afraid of how’d he would handle having you naked for the time in front of him. Would you want to take the lead? Or would you have your legs spread for him to do as he pleased. He wouldn't mind either to be honest.
And the first time he did finally manage to built up the courage to bed you. He didnt expect himself to be lying on your bed while you sat on your knees at the end. Your bit your swollen lip while you eyes his naked form, focusing on his broad, beefy legs that were spread apart wide enough to welcome you inbetween them. He was a sticky mess, cum painted all over the head of his cock, dripping onto his navel deviously. He was wishing for just one ounce of control when you two were making out prior to this, nearling busting his nut when he felt you whimper against him.
God he didnt know how to function, feeling embarrassed about himself but again. He had no idea just how much you loved him like this. Yes, you were a shy sweet thing but behind closed doors. You lived for the pleasure. To please. And the way Stevies cock jumps and aches as he watched you remove each article of clothing. It was a site you revealed in.
The second you were completely bare, his moans would become greater, louder. When you placed your hand on his naked thigh his breath would hitch, balls growing heavier with every breath.
“You okay Stevie?” You cooed, kissing his inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine, the way he tensed and the smell of his delicious natural scent would bring an ache to your soaked cunt, making you squeeze around nothing, needing him desperately.
“I'm fuck...hmngg sensitive..” He tried to tell you, looking at you with pleading eyes while his cock throbbed, torn between needing you to keep touching him and pushing far away from you, fearing he loses control and comes all over your pretty face that was only mere inches from his angry tip. He’s not a virgin, that most people new for sure but he’s never gotten head before nor been with anyone in so many years. And he knows he’d fill your mouth the minute you wrap your plump lips around him and fuck your face until he was blowing his load down your throat.
“You want me to such your dick, sir?” Your voice was laced with seduction making Steve gulp an obscene amount of saliva. he felt so high, gritting his teeth at your words. You made it out to seem he was in charge when you could very well grab his cock and make him do whatever your wanted.
“Fuck, I think I'ma cum.” It was not a might in this situation...it was a definite yes. He was about to bust just from your hot breath brushing against him. but Steve wanted to hold off. He needed to hold off.
Keeping his self-control as much as he could. He wanted to be that hard, confident man that everyone thinks he is. But in truth, his cheeks were tainted with a pink hue, gasping as you took his heavy balls in your mouth suckling with determination. “Wait, Baby, please...hunngmmm I hang on...”
He needed to be inside you. He couldn’t cum without feeling what your cunt felt like first. His precum touched your lips, licking up all the come that was on his thigh and tummy from his previous orgasm. His eyes bore holes in you as he watched you quickly and sensually swallowed his load. You opened your mouth, showing him you ate every drop. Whichmade him snap, man-handling you until you found yourself on top of him, with your chest pressing against his. You breast squished, nipples tingly at the roughness of his scared skin.
He doesn’t give you another second to think nor protest as he pushed his cock in one quick thrust. Planting his feet, before thrusting into you harshly.
“Fuck Stevie!!” You squealed at the feeling of his balls hitting your ass, while his fat thick cock stretched you open wide. He clung onto you tightly, groaning into your neck, biting your shoulder to hide his high-pitched 'ffuuckkkk'. The feeling of your tight cunt was too much and his strokes were becoming sloppy and unsteady very quickly.
“Fuck I-hmg m’need to cum!!” His back arched off the bed while his head had been thrown back against the soft pillow. “god! Shit, shit. Fuck!” he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting, holding onto you while your cunt began to burn with overstimulation as he empties himself deep inside you, feeling as though his orgasm was unending. you squirted around him, liquid going everywhere, from your and his legs to all over the bed. Staining the sheets beneath you both.
“Steve!!” You whined, your greedy soaked cunt kept pulling him back in, with his cum spilling around his cock, splurging out the sides onto his thighs, making him even more sticky then when he began.. “You’re m-making a mess, pplease…” His eyes rolled back at the thought of your warm white cream that now covered your pussy, his cum painting you, decorating you both. Oh, how it made his cock throb more.
“I know-I know baby, fucknng I can’t stop!” He grunts, now hiding his face into your neck again, his arms nearly limp and aching from holding you so tightly while his hips never stop their attack. His rut. All these obscene squelching sounds echoed louder and louder with each pump. “I don’t know what’s w-wrong with me. Fuck my cock…i need to cum. More... Too much cum.”
He couldn’t control himself anymore, all these lewd voices spilling from his tongue, you moaned in response feeling yourself grow closer to a new high another high.
Steve kept growling random words along the lines of 'fuck, shit, i need to cum. Your cunt feels so good.' The list went on. Rolling over so he was now on top, but still keeping his cock tucked inside you, he ground his hips slowly, humping his abused length in as far as it would go while keeping his face in your neck, biting your shoulder for good measure. “feels so good, you make me crazy. So fucking hard. It hurts. M’sorry baby Sugar.”
“It’s okay.” You try to calm your lover, “I’m yours.” The minute the words slipped off your tongue you realized the grave mistake that was because he groaned, no, he growled like a beast. His cock swelled again, becoming harder if that was even possible at this point, before slamming back into you. Fucking you with a new purpose and new-found strength.
“hmm, Mine you say? Fuck, this body is all mine? Pussy is all mine?” His eyes were feral now with a grin matching it. You feel every ripple, divot and vein as his muscles tense and cock fucks you harder. Your face was flushed as you felt embarrassed from his words. Dirty talk was something you never thought Steve would be into. Yet here is he, making you come apart from his filthy tongue. “Gonna fuck my pussy, empty my cum deep in my pussy, fuck my pussy until I’m fucking dry.”
And he does just that. Panting, grunting. He was feral over how good each orgasm felt and how long they seemed to last. He fucked you until you were a crying, begging mess. Overstimulated and sticky. His mouth became filthier with each orgasm he got out of you and there was no stopping it. He was going to fuck you until there was no more cum to produce.
Finding a new positions, from the floor, the wall, the deck, back to the floor again before ending in the bed yet again. He fucked you until you both were fucked out, tired and had made a mess of the entire apartment.
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jaehyunsbreadbasket · 2 years
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Kinktober '22 Day 25: Bucky Barnes
Prompt: Mirror Sex
Word Count: 601
Synopsis: Bucky's gonna finger you, and you're gonna watch.
Consists of: Dom!Bucky, AFAB Sub!Reader, Mirror sex, Fingering, Dumbification, Breast play, Mention of Buck's mental hand rusting, Brief temperature play, Implied oral (reader receiving) at the end
"Look at you, Baby," Bucky lifts your chin up, "So fucking gorgeous. And look at that little pussy, all pink and puffy. I can barely move my fingers, Darling, you're so fucking tight."
"B-Buck-" You start, even though you're so spent it's doubtable you could even make a full sentence in the first place.
"Shh, Sweetheart. It's okay, you don't have to say anything, just watch. I bet it'd take forever if we waited for you to rack up words in that dumb little head of yours, anyway, Honey. So fucking stupid for me," Bucky moves his warm hand up your body, finding your breasts and giving your nipples little pinches. His cool one was still slamming in and out of you, so wet that it might just rust.
It feels so good, two contrasting temperatures on your body all at once; it's a sensation no one but Bucky could give you. Watching him watching you in your reflection is just the cherry on top. He's so out of breath, so desperate looking, as if he was the one with fingers inside of him. I doubt anyone derives as much pleasure from pleasing others as he does. Bucky notices you watching and gives you a little wink before curling his fingers inside of you. You're head lolls back against his chest as your back arches, Bucky lets out a deep chuckle at the sight.
He continues curling, "You're close, aren't you Doll? Cum for me Baby...please," He pauses before adding the "please" as if he had forgot his manners, as if there was proper etiquette for asking for an orgasm, "Come on, Honey, do it. Do it for me."
He uses his metal thumb to rub harsh circles on your clit, and suddenly you're more aware of the wet sounds your cunt is producing. It's so dirty, so fucking nasty, and just what you need to fall over the edge.
"Bucky, Bucky, Bucky!" You grip onto his arm for dear life as you begin to shake.
"Keep your eyes open," Bucky roughly grabs your chin with his flesh hand, "Look at yourself. Watch as you fall apart on my hand," You struggle to stay in the moment as you spasm around, Bucky not letting you tear our eyes away for a single second. Bucky places bites on your neck as he speeds up his hand, and before you know it, you're cumming. Covering his metal with your cream, cream that he'll undoubtedly make you taste afterwards, either from his hand or from his tongue.
"Good job! So good for me, so pretty," Bucky immediately praises you, while his mouth continues to rest on your neck. He kisses it gently now in an attempt to soothe you.
"So messy," You mumble as you see in the mirror how sticky the situation is.
"Yeah, Baby," Bucky speaks inside his laugh, "That pussy made such a mess. But don't you worry about it okay? I'm gonna clean it all up, I promise," Bucky pulls his fingers out of you and sucks them clean, humming in satisfaction as he does so. He then grabs your body, lifting you like you’re weightless, like you really are nothing but a little ragdoll, and sits you up higher on the bed, finding a resting place for himself in-between your legs. Bucky smells your cunt, "I want you to watch your face okay," he points back at the mirror as if you'd have no idea what he was referring too otherwise, "See how good I am at cleaning up your messes," your pussy throbs and Bucky dives in.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Prompt from: @kinktober2022
My Kinktober 2022 Masterlist 🎃
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misshoneybee · 2 years
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KINKTOBER ANNOUNCEMENT
Because of work and some other personal circumstances my Kinktober prompts have been delayed a week! To stay on track, I’ve decided to cut one of the prompts (Tattoo Artist!Bucky) and do it in November! But, all of my others will continue as planned!
All of that is to say: Night One should finally be up tomorrow night!
xx.
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angelltheninth · 2 years
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Endurance Test
Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, blowjob, edging, cock riding, begging, cock tease, licking, dirty talk, cum shot, sub!Peter Parker, dom!Reader
Word count: 0.7k
Kinktober Day 6: Orgasm Denial
Ao3
A/N: I've really been looking forward to this kinktober fic. Peter is always so cute I just want to tease him and make him squirm.
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Peter struggled to keep his hips from jerking upwards, his hands fisting the sheets so tight he almost teared them apart. But what could he do? You didn't restrain him but you still told him not to touch you. Which made it even more difficult for him.
"Easy. Don't twitch too much sweetheart." You mumble against the leaking tip of his cock, your hands fondling his full balls, massaging and squeezing, "You don't want me to choke do you?" You wink just before you take his cock in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks to make the sucking easier.
"God. No, no but I- Please." He whines, low and almost teary eyed from frustration, "I don't think I can hold it for much longer."
You release his cock with a wet pop, moving your hand up and down, slowly from the bottom and then rolling your palm over the tip, making sure to spread his cum nicely. "Not yet. Just a little longer. Then you can give me every last drop." You make sure to look at him in the eye as your tongue darts out to lick the dripping bead cum flowing down Peter's hard length.
He bites his bottom lip, making it tremble upon release as another needy whimper escapes him.
"Poor thing. You're so hard. It must hurt a lot huh. How about I kiss it better for you." You trail hot, slow, deliberate kisses up and down his dick, making it throb even more when you give him a long lick from his balls all the way to the tip.
"I need to be inside you. I'm feel like I'm gonna explode." Peter pulls at the sheets, his hands needing something to tug, something to hold onto.
"I fully expect you to. And you've been a very good boy for me Peter. I should reward you now shouldn't I?" You run your fingers between your legs, briefly inserting one finger in, letting out a long moan. "Hear that? That's how wet I am for you. Let me show you."
You move and straddle his hips, spreading your lips with your fingers and rubbing his hard, aching cock between your wet pussy lips.
"Think you're ready for me? Hm?" You roll your hips against his cock, making another drop of cum drip onto his abs. He can't even form words anymore, he just nods his head quickly and whimpers out your name.
With a brief kiss on his lips you position yourself on top of him, nudging your opening with the tip once, twice, before you fully sink down on him without warming.
"Oh fuck!" Peter throws his head back, his hands leaving the sheets for your thighs, keeping your pinned against him, your hips fully against him. "You're so warm inside. Feels like my cock's gonna melt. God. Move. Move. Please. I need to come. I need-"
"Soon love, soon." You squeeze your cunt around him, focusing on his tip as you begin to move your hips ups and down, sinking all the way down each time. "Come when I tell you to. All of it. Make sure you give me all of it. Ready darling? Are you ready to give me all you've got?"
"Yes, yes. Anything. Everything. Please met me come. Please!" He starts to babble, his whole body shaking then snapping like a web thread once you nod his way. His hips start driving into you at full force, his cock shooting warm jets of cum deep inside your pussyhole, painting your insides white with his seed.
You're not far behind, especially when he looks so adorable and sexy underneath you. You start milking him with your cunt, intent on getting all of his cum.
"Holy shit." Peter throws his arm over his eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly along with yours. You need to brace yourself on his shoulder to stop yourself from falling over him. "That was intense."
"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." You lean down to give him another kiss, longer than the last one, brushing your tongue against his. "It feels nice to let go of responsibility and control once in a while huh?"
Peter licks his lips and takes a deep breath, "I wouldn't mind doing it more often."
"I was really hoping you'd say that. Try to last even longer next time hm?" You clench around him again, getting another spurt of cum from him in return.
"No promises." He smiles up at you as he pulls you down and moves his head so you can rest on his shoulder comfortably, "But I'll try anything for you baby."
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muddyorbsblr · 6 months
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no resistance [kinktober 2023: fingering]
See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! See my full list of works here!
Summary: President Loki fires his assistant for booking an interview gone horribly sideways and hires you in her place.
Pairing: President Loki x Reader
Word Count: 7.4k [prepare drinkies and snacks accordingly]
Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, be gone. i won't ask again); fingering; dirty talk; most likely inaccurate depictions of what a day in the White House looks like; improper use of the Oval Office desk; a handful of cuss words [let me know if i missed anything!]
Things to be aware of: power dynamic (she's his assistant); mentions of Natasha, Bucky, Morgan, and Steve if you squint; bit of a makeover trope towards the middle of the story; Reader is mid to late 20s
Dick-tionary (aka smut guide): smut starts at "He worked his hand back under" and ends at "When he pulled his digits"
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"I uhh…I think that's all the questions I have for this interview. Thank you so much for your time, President Loki, and I wish you the best of luck with your re-election campaign."
The journalist, if she could even be called that, fidgeted the slightest in her seat, her discomfort evident from both the motion and the expression on her face. As if she knew that the god-president was now quite cross with her, and much deservedly so.
As if she knew she spoke out of turn in this interview that was so graciously granted to her.
"My security will see you off the premises. Good day, madam."
He exited the room with a slight swish of his coattails, striding down the halls with a fury now directed at his assistant rather than the would-be journalist. Once the offending individual had been located, there was a meek, fearful look on her face as well.
"Boss," her voice wavered. "Your forehead vein's making an appearance again…"
"Clear your desk. Today is your final day on my team." His voice rang out and echoed all over the floor of the campaign headquarters, most of the staff raising their heads and peering from awkward angles to have a view of the commotion.
"But Boss, you said you wanted to connect with the younger adult audience and capture their votes. Miss Lewis has an audience right smack in that demographic, her videos get millions of views, I don't understand--" She let out a frustrated huff. "An interview with her could secure you a good few million votes in your re-election. From fresh voters who've just registered and are undecided. She could bridge the gap that makes you seem so unrelatable with the digital age--"
"That woman that should never dare call herself a journalist asked me to confirm the measurements of my phallus because it appears that that is the dominating question her audience had for me," he snapped, rendering the former assistant quiet.
"I--I'm sorry, Boss. I didn't know--"
"No. No you did not. It is clear that you did not do ample research on how this Miss Lewis conducted her behavior and what type of a strategy she would likely use to bridge this so called gap of relatability. I have let a good few shortcomings of yours slide since the beginning of this campaign season in hopes that you simply needed to find your footing. But time is running short and frankly so is my patience. I no longer have leniency to spare for incompetence, especially from people that work too closely with me. Pack your belongings, I expect you out within the hour. Security will triple check for any information you may try to smuggle out of the premises, so I suggest you do not even attempt it."
She let out a sound of utter disbelief. "And how exactly do you expect to replace me on such short notice? The press will see when I'm not in your entourage at the briefing tomorrow morning."
"I assure you, it will not be such an impossible feat to replace the likes of you. Now if I were in your shoes, I'd hasten my movements. The hour will tick by before you know it."
Members of Loki's security kept a close watch on her to ensure that she only vacated her desk of her personal belongings. Checking every item she placed into her purse if there were scribbled secrets or supporters' contact information that might give the opposition some sort of an advantage over him.
Once they were positive that there was nothing she held on her person that could even remotely sabotage his re-election campaign, he had her escorted out of the building.
Now on to finding his new assistant. Preferably someone with a sensible enough head on their shoulders that they would at least do a rudimentary background check on who would be conducting the interview before writing them a gate pass and allowing them into such a private space.
Loki took a glance at the small pile of papers that his former assistant left behind. One had numerous strikethroughs and comments scratched on so harshly there were indents on the paper from whoever was wielding the bright fuchsia-inked pen.
Boring as all fuck, this isn't the aesthetic that we're going for. Try again, Y/N, the feedback read. The suggestion held the name of a creator whose content focused on documentaries centered on powerful individuals that have leveraged their platform in a negative manner. That perhaps this journalist could interview him and ask questions that touched on his past before he arrived on Earth and even some of the myths that surrounded his time on Asgard.
The president snapped his fingers at the nearest staff member, beckoning him over with an impatient flick of his fingers. "Which one of your colleagues is Y/N? Point her out to me."
The staff member raised a shaking hand, pointing in the direction of your desk. "O-Over there, Mi--Mister President, Sir," he stammered, mentioning your full name before Loki motioned for him to return to his seat. He took a good look at you, phone clipped between your ear and shoulder while you wrote something down on paper, the concentration written all over your face as you proceeded with your work.
"Yes I'll be sure to keep your contact information on file and forward your request for interview. You'll hear from us soon about schedules and logistics," you told the other person on the line with a smile stretched across your face that was so obviously strained, he could imagine your cheeks were beginning to smart from holding it.
He watched you work for a few more moments, your side of the conversation giving enough away for him to figure out you were speaking with a representative from Stark Industries. Something about a partnership to provide free sustainable energy to the impoverished communities throughout the country.
"We're very much looking forward to speaking with you in more detail about your proposals, Miss Stark. Thank you so so much for taking the time to answer my call, we'll be in touch soon." You took your little pencil and used it to twist your hair out of your face, your strained smile finally dropping. "Sorry I probably won't be able to call though because the president's PA is a complete ditz that'll reject my request because it doesn't go with the aesthetic," you grumbled, imitating his former assistant's tone toward the end and bringing an amused smile to the god's face.
"Miss Y/L/N," he called out to you, his tone uncharacteristically soft. Despite it, however, the sound of his voice still caused you to start in your seat.
Your expression morphed into a grimace, sucking in air between your teeth, looking defeated. "Good afternoon, Sir," you spoke, your words shaking with obvious fear. "You…heard me mocking your assistant, I apologize nobody was meant to hear that. I'll uhm…I'll clear my desk, it was an honor getting to work--"
"Hold on a moment there, darling, you're not in any trouble." He approached you with his hands held out and open in an attempt to tell you you had nothing to fear. "It was…quite an accurate depiction, if we're being honest. Hardly a mockery. I've erm…I've actually come here to speak with you about some of the interview requests you'd sent in prior to today."
He held up some of the scraps of paper in his hand, each of them containing your handwriting and his previous assistant's caustic feedback in the obnoxious fuchsia ink she insisted on using. "They were all rejected," you offered lamely, grimacing again as you squirmed in your seat.
"They're also quite clever. Intelligent, even." Your head snapped up at the compliment, a mixture of shock and satisfaction on your face as you looked at him. Your grimace had given way to a tiny endearing smile, a tinge of pink now in your cheeks. "Had my itinerary been comprised of these instead, today might have turned out to be more productive."
Your eyes widened to the point he worried they might pop out of your head. "The Lewis interview pushed through today?" He nodded once, a look of pity now painting your features. "I am so terribly sorry I sent over my research on her content but--"
"My former assistant likely shredded your findings," he finished, sitting slightly at the edge of your desk. "It's alright, Y/N, I don't hold you responsible for any of today's shortcomings. I see the efforts you've taken to enrich this campaign. Shamefully quite late, but I see them now. Hopefully moving forward we could work together to correct your predecessor's oversights."
"Wait, hold on…former assistant? Predecessor? Sir what--"
"I'd like to offer you a promotion of sorts. I'm in need of a new assistant, seeing as I fired the last one today for organizing an interview so brazenly invasive I might as well have taken the meeting completely nude."
"Well I'm sure Ms Lewis' audience would've loved that--" You stopped your words short, looking as if you'd bit your tongue. "Sorry I shouldn't have--"
"I'm sure they would have," he chuckled, leaning in the slightest to get a better look at you, finding himself surprisingly looking forward to what the next few days would bring, seeing your face more often as well as the potential of a better workflow considering that you seemed to be more focused on substance over appearance. "Take the rest of the day to familiarize yourself with the new workflow, as well as my itinerary. I'll defer to your judgment to rearrange or outright cancel any upcoming interviews as you see fit. I'll meet with you a half-hour before breakfast for a debrief on any changes you've decided on."
He barely gave you any time to nod your head in agreement before he reached for your hand, raising it to his lips and placing a delicate kiss on the back of your hand.
"I look forward to working with you, Y/N."
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Your first few days working for President Loki had passed in a blur, working tirelessly to rearrange his schedule and maintaining a correspondence with the content creators that your predecessor had arranged interviews for. Spinning tales of how hectic the president's schedule had become on such short notice and therefore their appointments with him would have to be rescheduled at a later date.
A later date that probably would never come, considering that most if not all of the planned interviews conducted their business similarly to the one that effectively got his former assistant fired within the hour. You made a small note in your own binder that perhaps when he'd secured his re-election, they could be granted access among the crowd of reporters during larger press conferences.
"Maybe if you're among hoards of other reporters, you can keep your thirst in check and actually act like respective, decent human beings. Not asking about dick measurements like you're asking about the weather today. Thirsty idiots…" you grumbled, writing another name into the list.
"If that list gets any longer, you may need to have a rotation schedule, sweetling." You jumped at the sound of the president's voice coming from so close behind you, peering over your shoulder to find that he stood near enough that you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. "Are these all the ones you'd rescheduled from the prior calendar?"
You mutely nodded, swallowing your nerves before speaking. "All the ones so far," you clarified, clicking away at your computer to show him the packed and borderline overbooked schedule that was formerly planned for him. "I made sure to go for the ones planned in the next few weeks first so that they at least have enough time to reallocate their time somewhat. There's about six more weeks worth to sort out."
"Excellent work," he told you, his voice even closer to your ear now that he was leaning over your shoulder to peer at the schedule on your monitor. "And what does my schedule look like for today, Y/N?"
You clicked to this week's view, taking a cursory look at the calendar. "After the press briefing, you have a lunch meeting with the Department of Defense along with one of the directors of R & B Weaponries, a Mr Barnes, to discuss about a new ammo supplier for the Navy forces and your own personal security detail."
He nodded along with your summary, the citrusy leathery scent of him wafting into your space and making you a touch dizzy from his onslaught of your senses. You just had to smell immaculate on top of looking like sex on legs, you hissed inwardly, biting down hard at the inside of your lip to keep you from saying a word aloud.
"And will you be joining me in this luncheon?"
Your eyes widened at his question. Of course you wouldn't be. The information to be divulged in such meetings should be something heard only by the president or those he deems closest to him. You were his assistant, nothing more. All you needed to know were names, dates, and overall points of discussion.
"I uhm…no. I don't--I don't believe I will be," you stammered, your breath hitching when he turned his head to look at you and suddenly you could feel his warm breath on your cheek. "Personal assistants aren't usually included in the guest list for these events," you offered in a lame attempt at explaining a question he didn't even ask.
"You are now. We'll leave at a quarter to noon." He began to walk out of the office, only halting to look at you over his shoulder when you let out a tiny squeak like you were about to protest. "Are you opposed to this new arrangement, sweet mortal?"
"Uhh--" You took a breath, composing yourself. "No, Sir. I'll call the restaurant to update the head count."
President Loki smirked at you, jerking his head toward the door. "Excellent. Now we should get going. I believe the briefing will commence in a few moments."
While you were on your way to the briefing room, you sent a haphazard text to a stylist friend, a Hail Mary to hopefully get you looking somewhat presentable.
Tasha, massive SOS. I need an outfit to not look like a total clown show next to the President for a lunch thing.
You followed a few steps behind the president, taking a quick look at your watch when you got notified of a reply from your friend, Natasha Romanoff. Is "lunch thing" your way of downplaying "date"? He finally made his move on you after making googly eyes at you all week long?
Her text had you fighting the urge to roll your eyes as you stepped into the briefing room, cameras at the ready and reporters sitting straight and alert, waiting to pounce with their questions once President Loki was situated at his podium.
The hour went on mostly without a hitch, you taking your notes on near everything he'd mentioned in response to the reporters' queries. While your boss was speaking with a few people from Press Relations, your ears perked up at some small talk between two reporters, one of them having a few biting words to say about you.
"I mean at least his last assistant had some sense of fashion. I never thought I'd miss Little Miss looks like she got hired from the red light district, but at least she didn't look like some frumpy ass college student who just rolled out of bed. Honestly she's dragging the whole look down and that's saying so much because Mr President can make anything look hot."
"Except her, apparently," the other reporter shot back in a snippy tone. "Guarantee you he just hired her so that he has less of a distraction in the workplace. She's the kind people look at and they're doing the opposite of mentally undressing her."
"Mentally putting a paper bag over her head," the first reporter capped off with a witchy cackle.
You felt your fury bubbling just under the surface, wanting nothing more than to march over there and give them a piece of your mind for being so catty at someone that they didn't even know. To drag them over their impractical shoes that made their legs wobble if they so much as tried to stand straight or their two sizes too small shirts that had buttons fighting for their life trying to keep their tits covered.
Instead of doing any of that, however, you pulled out your phone to text Tasha. Firstly, no it's not a "date", when are you gonna drop that tin foil hat of yours. And secondly, scratch what I said earlier. You've wanted to give me a makeover since college? Now's your chance, Babes. Gimme the works.
You sidled past the president and his current company, asking one of your closer acquaintances from the staff to accompany him to any impromptu meetings until the lunch meeting later and to inform your boss that you had to attend to a personal matter, but that you would be back before he left for the restaurant.
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As the clock kept on ticking closer half past noon, Loki could feel himself getting antsy waiting for your return. He'd noticed how jittery you seemed when you passed him on your way out of the press briefing, and the staff member you'd sent to keep him apprised in your stead gave no satisfactory explanation on what caused you to step out so abruptly.
"Where are you, Y/N…" he grumbled into the empty office, looking on at your desk that he'd moved inside so that calling on you would require less effort. Instead of stepping outside or phoning you, he'd simply have to call your name from wherever he was and you were already there.
And if he was being completely honest with himself, he'd also done it so you would be closer to him and he would see you at all times throughout the day. He found your presence calmed him, the competence you'd more than proven to have over the last few days already easing his day to day.
Just as he was about to reach for his phone and call you to check if you were alright, he heard your voice outside his office, speaking with your reliever in a tone he likened to one that he heard back on Asgard. Whenever Frigga would correct him on any missteps he had throughout his magic lessons.
"I totally get how you can get lost finding the meeting rooms, it's a goddamn maze in here. But if you make any of them lose unnecessary time because of it, not everyone will come at you with understanding. Just make sure that it doesn't happen for next time. I'll draw you up a map for the rooms that are most frequently used. Study it, live it, breathe it. See if someone from security can accompany you while you familiarize yourself with the place, and don't stop until you can navigate the floor with your eyes closed."
"Yes, ma'am," your reliever confirmed, his tone audibly less jittery than when he was speaking with Loki. "Thank you so much, Y/N. Honestly getting you to be in charge of the rest of us might be one of the best things the President ever did. The one before you was so--"
"Harpy?" you finished with a chuckle, the lightness in your tone feeling like a soothing balm to the nerves Loki had had since he saw you exit the White House so hastily earlier this morning. "Remember when I tried to suggest that we should reach out to Greta Thunberg's team?"
He could almost hear the other man shudder from the other side of the door. "Gah, she nearly ripped your throat out that day. Something something not shippable and we need to get 'hot people'. Really lost the plot, that one. Anyways, I'll go work on memorizing that map. Thanks again, Boss."
"Yikes, don't call me that," you shot back, your voice growing closer to the door, prompting Loki to walk back to his desk before you stepped into the office. "That's just for our boss, no one else." Your footsteps sounded different; there was considerably more of a click in each step, and the slightest stumble to them as if you were re-familiarizing yourself with your own legs.
There was a bizarre feeling of the air becoming easier to breathe once he heard the door open. "There you are, darling. I hope your personal matter's been sorted out and you're ready to--" His words halted dead in their tracks once he turned around and got a good look at you, quickly surmising that the 'personal matter' was a complete overhaul of your appearance.
There was an ethereal glow to your face and your hair that had his hands twitching to reach out and touch you, and in place of the slightly oversized sweater and denim you'd worn this morning was a blazer designed to be worn as a dress, set in a shade of green that matched his waistcoat perfectly. To top it all off, the buckle that cinched at your waist as well as the heels that brought your height up by a few inches were set in a gold that matched the horned helmet atop his head.
You looked like the personification of his most far-fetched fantasies whenever he thought of what he wanted in someone that would stand by his side. A confidant. A partner. A lover, even.
Someone radiantly beautiful, brilliant, and completely unafraid to declare themself as his by adorning his colors.
"Too much?" you spoke up, jostling him out of his thoughts. "I-I mean if it is I still have a change of clothes in my bag I can--"
"No, no. It's not too much, little mortal. Not at all." Mentally he was stabbing himself for stumbling over his words so clumsily; he was normally so much more composed than this. "You look…ravishing." Your eyes lit up at his words, betraying the neutral expression you tried to maintain. "Come. We should head to the restaurant."
He offered out his hand to you, confusion plaguing him when the rhythm of his heart stumbled just as his words did once you'd placed your hand in his. He found you such an anomaly, looking at you with utmost curiosity, wondering how someone could simultaneously calm the chaos all around him and yet incite an entirely different type of chaos in his heart. Not to mention his loins.
"You know, darling, had we been in Asgard, your wearing of my colors could be interpreted as a declaration of your allegiance to me," he spoke once you were both situated in the back of the car. You nodded your head slowly, as if ruminating over what he'd just said. He couldn't take his eyes off of you.
"That makes sense," you answered, seeming as if you were thinking aloud. "Seeing as I am your assistant, people should see within seconds that I'm associated with you. The color thing's probably the most tasteful way of doing it rather than a t-shirt with your face printed on it…"
"May I ask you something…a touch more personal, Miss Y/L/N?"
"O-Of course," you stammered, your nodding a touch unsteady, fingers laced together tightly as if you were trying to keep your nerves at bay.
"What made you decide to work for me?"
You blinked rapidly for a moment, seeming to be genuinely taken aback by the question, before composing your answer.
"All the people who held the position before you were horrid…evil men. All they cared about was finessing a kick back. Burying their constituents in debt. You stepped into office and…I was out of debt in less than half a year. My student loans were nowhere to be found. All because you prioritized our right to have an education. Of course I was going to try working on your re-election campaign."
Hearing you talk about his predecessors, describing them the way you did as if they were so starkly different from him, somehow didn't sit right with the god. "But darling, you do know that I, too, am what others would call a…horrid, evil man?"
You shook your head stubbornly, sitting up straighter as if you were about to deliver a lecture. "No. You're not. I've seen evil men. I've worked with them, I've--" The words caught in the back of your throat, making you clear your throat before pushing on. "I've suffered at the hands of evil men."
Your eyes met his, the sincerity in them knocking the air out of his lungs. Had he been up on his feet, he was sure that your next words would have knocked him down on his ass.
"I'm not looking at an evil man."
His next query escaped from his mouth so swiftly, he couldn't have stopped the words even if he wanted to. "Y/N, what prompted all this?" He made a motion from your hair to your feet. "Why the change?" You squirmed in your seat, as if holding the answer in was making you physically uncomfortable. "It's alright, darling, you can tell me."
There was a heaviness in your tone when you answered. Like you were holding back tears from just recounting the events. "This morning…in the briefing room. There were these reporters commenting on how I looked and how it kind of…cheapened the image. Your image. Ruined the aesthetic."
"What is it with these feeble-minded mortals and their absurd fascination about aesthetics?"
"I don't know," you blurted out. "But the thing is, Sir, I don't have to know. The only thing I have to understand is that there are people, voters, who assign a high value to the aesthetic of a candidate. And it won't sit right in my conscience if I have the knowledge that my appearance can jeopardize someone's decision to vote for you, and I do nothing about it. So…I called up a friend of mine and…told her to make me a new person. A pretty one."
You were already beautiful, he thought to himself. It mattered not how you presented yourself.
Before he could suppress the urge, he was reaching over to your side of the backseat, tucking a lock of your hair that fell loose, obstructing his view of your features. "You deserve so much better than this, sweet mortal," he said softly, stroking your cheek with the backs of his fingers, his heart warming when he saw how you leaned into his touch. "You should be working for an honorable man. A decent man."
The next words to come out of your mouth had him just about ready to carve his heart out with his own dagger and serve it to you on a golden platter. "I am."
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"Babes, noooooo," Tasha whined from her end of the video call. "Why are you putting your hair up? The whole fit goes better with your hair down."
You mumbled your answer as incoherently as you could, hoping she'd chalk it off to a bad connection as you fiddled with the half of your hair that was put up in a little gold claw clip.
"What was that, Babes? I didn't quite hear you."
Dammit. "Because he told me he likes it when my hair's not blocking my face, okay?" you answered her with an exaggerated sigh. "Now please tell me my makeup meets your standards because I really don't wanna explain that I lost motion in my right arm from blending my eyeshadow."
"Okay first, your makeup's fine. I'm so proud I'm about to quote that little red cartoon dragon. And second, I can't believe you had the audacity to tell me I had a tin foil hat on, I told you the first day you walked into that briefing room with him that that man couldn't stop himself from looking at you and looking like a heart-eyed emoji. Now you're telling me this? Babes, it's time you accept it. The President has it bad for you, and give it eight to ten months, and you're gonna become First Lady Y/N Laufeyson. In fact I'm so sure of it that 'if I'm wrong, I'll dye my hair puke green. Neon, glow in the dark, puke green."
You let out a frustrated sound that echoed throughout your apartment, stepping back from the phone and showing your friend your choice of clothing for the day, just like you had every morning for the last week. Today it was a dress with puff sleeves, a high neckline with a keyhole and ribbon bow detailing, and an a-line skirt. In President Loki's signature shade of green, of course.
"Looks great, Babes. He's gonna love it."
"Doesn't matter if he likes it, Tasha. The viewers just have to not think I'm ruining his look," you grumbled, stepping out of your phone camera's view to change into the dress.
"Mm hmm, keep telling yourself that, Y/N. Have a good day at work. Try not to ride your boss until after office hours, okay?" You waved her off, ending the call and putting your phone on Silent before you headed off to the White House.
When you got to President Loki's office, he was sat at the edge of his table, hands resting on the lux hardwood surface, and legs spread.
The posture put those unfairly sensual muscular thighs on sluttish display, made worse by the way the fabric of his at least one size too tight slacks stretched and strained over his skin. You had to look away before you dared look closer because you could've sworn you also clocked some tenting between his legs.
"Good morning, sweet little mortal," he greeted you, his voice even more gravelly than usual. Your knees nearly buckled from its effect on you, already feeling the familiar pooling between your legs.
"Good morning, Sir," you answered, already feeling flushed, your breathing a bit deeper and causing an uncomfortable pinch from how bra was pinching against your breasts. "You're up early today…"
"I'm still up, darling. I couldn't sleep. Something was…plaguing my mind."
"Oh?"
He gave you a single nod before raising his hand forward, curling his fingers in a motion that had your feet moving of their own accord toward him. Had you not known any better it was like he cast a spell that summoned you to his side.
But you did know better. He didn't need to cast a spell.
"Closer," he breathed when you were standing two feet in front of him, flicking his gaze down at the space between his legs.
Your heart caught in your throat, your pulse thundering in your ears and pounding so hard you could swear you felt it even at the tips of your toes. Regardless, you obeyed, stepping closer until you stood less than a foot away from him.
"I want you to know you're free to tell me if you wish for me to stop." His words came out strained, like it hurt to say them. "I would never hold it against you. If you do not feel the same I can drop it and we can both simply pretend this never happened."
There's no way, you kept on stubbornly repeating to yourself. Even as he placed his sinfully large hands at your sides, bringing you even closer, so close that you could feel his breath warming your face.
Even as he reached up to remove the clip holding your hair up, weaving his fingers into your hair to hold you in place while his eyes roamed your features, constantly returning to stare at your lips.
The stubborn voice in the back of your head only got silenced once he closed the remaining distance between you, soft lips pressing against your own in a kiss so delicate it was like he thought you were made of porcelain and you would crack at even the slightest touch.
"You can stop me if you feel I've overstepped," he whispered, still close enough that the movement of his lips still faintly ghosted over your own. "I just simply couldn't go another day without telling you--"
You felt the slightest thrill up your spine at the surprised sound that caught in the back of his throat, when you cut him off by giving him a fleeting kiss of your own.
You barely registered the heavy sound of his helmet hitting the tabletop before he pulled you closer, one hand tugging lightly at your hair, the other roaming down your body and working its way under your dress. He grasped at your thigh, letting out a sinful moan when you parted your lips for him and your tongues met in a frantic tangle.
"Do you trust me?" he rasped, catching his breath. He let out a sharp exhale, sounding relieved when you simply nodded your head. He wrapped his hand around the inside of your knee, his other arm wrapping around your waist to lift you up to straddle his lap, knees resting on the edge of the tabletop.
The precarious position had you grasping at his shoulders, leaning into him to keep yourself from keeling over.
He splayed his hand across your back, holding you steady. "I have you, sweet girl." He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, kissing his way down your neck until you let out a strangled moan once he'd reached a spot between your neck and shoulder.
You had to be dreaming. That was the only explanation for this. You slept in and you were still in your apartment and now you were about to be late for work. Yup, that was it. You tried to dig your nail into your palm, wincing at the sharp pinch you felt but nothing came of it.
"Agh--" Your nail broke skin, a tiny spot of blood blooming on your palm.
"Darling Y/N, what in the Nine are you doing?" He wrapped his hand around your wrist, running his thumb across your palm, seeing the minuscule wound.
"This is a dream," you mumbled, more to yourself. "I have to wake up."
"Little mortal," he cooed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "You think this a dream?" You whimpered at the smirk he gave you when you nodded. "So you've dreamed of this before? Of my kiss? My touch?"
Ah what the hell I'm dreaming anyway. "I have. Every night."
"Oh my sweet little mortal." He pressed a kiss to your palm, the pinprick wound suddenly nowhere to be found when he pulled away. "I can assure you…if this is a dream, it is one we share. The things I've wanted to do to you. With you. Now that I know you've wanted this, too, there is very little that can stop me from turning those dreams into reality."
He worked his hand back under your dress, between your legs, fingertips teasingly trailing up the inside of your thigh. He let out a staggering breath when he met the fabric of your panties, drenched with your arousal.
When you began to whimper from his fingers tracing along your slit he pulled you in for another kiss, effectively muffling your moans when he began to circle your clit over your panties. You started to roll your hips into his touch in response, your body already aching for more.
"So deliciously eager," he purred, kissing his way to your ear. "But I'll be needing you to stay alert, darling." You let out a little squeak when his hold tightened around your waist, keeping you from grinding your hips and chasing your own pleasure. "Now tell me what will be on my itinerary for today."
The softly growled order had your mind scrambling, thoughts that usually easily stitched together to form whatever answer he needed suddenly becoming disjointed and lost to the recesses of your consciousness. "Wait what?"
"I'm sure you understand my need for those under my employ to be mentally sharp as a tack. Regardless of my desire and affection for you, sweet mortal, you are still among those people." You arched your back, pressing your chest against his when he moved the fabric of your panties aside, sliding a single finger inside you and moving in long, languid strokes. "However now we could perhaps make our little morning discussions a touch more…interesting."
"You have the p-press briefing at eight and--Ohh fuck!" Your grip on his shoulders tightened when he inserted a second finger and curled them upwards, brushing against a spot that had you letting out the most obscene moan that filled his office.
"Such vulgar words from your lucious lips," he panted, stealing another kiss from you, nipping at your bottom lip as he pulled away. "Like watching an angel in the midst of corruption. On her pretty little knees for her god." He brushed against the spot with firmer strokes, making you wetter and turning you into a whimpering mess. "Keep going. What comes after the briefing?"
Your mind was spinning trying to recall. You mentally smacked yourself for struggling to remember when you'd just been committing the schedule to memory on your Uber ride here.
"U-Uhm…You have a pre--a prefatory meeting with Morgan Stark at 9:30 to dis--Fucking hell--To discuss free sustainable e-energy to lower class communities." You kept on frantically combing through your memories of your ride over here to recall the rest of the schedule.
"And what else, sweetheart?" He stilled his fingers while pressed on that same spot, lightly ghosting the pad of his thumb over your clit. "You're already doing so well. Finish it so we may move on to more…pleasurable…activities."
He pressed his lips to the base of your throat, the feel of him sucking lightly on the skin driving you near incoherent. "You--You have a meeting with R & B at three. To fi--" You threw your head back and let out a howling moan, his hand tightening on your back to keep you from falling over. "To finalize the contracts for the Department of Defense. And your security detail."
"Not just my security," he grunted, starting to stroke his fingers again. "Yours, too."
That was enough to break through your pleasure-induced haze by a fraction. "Hold on. What? Sir, I don't need--Ohh!" The rest of your words died with an obscene moan when he started flicking his fingers rapidly inside you.
"You're far too valuable for me to not allocate resources to ensure your safety when I can't protect you myself," he explained, peppering kisses across your collarbone. "Is that all for my day, sweet girl?"
"Y-Yes!" you whined, trying desperately to move your hips for even the tiniest bit more friction. "That's everything."
"Excellent." He moved his hand up to hold you by the back of your neck, letting out a sinful groan when he licked into your mouth. "And you'll be joining me in all of those, won't you?"
"Do you want me to?"
"I always want you with me," he murmured against your slips, letting out a moan of his own when he kissed you again, starting to move his fingers faster and pressing his thumb firmly on your clit. "Now come for me, my sweet mortal. My corrupted little angel. Make a mess on your god's fingers."
Your orgasm overtook you as the god moved his hand to your lower back, guiding your movements as you rode out your high, coating his fingers with your release. Your mind was a haze, the sound of his raspy utterances of your name barely hitting your ears. His chest heaved against yours, lips pressing soft kisses to the side of your face while your breathing evened out.
When he pulled his digits out of you, you let out a whiney groan, already feeling the loss of him. The sight of the god placing his fingers in his mouth, his sinfully dexterous tongue lapping up every drop of your juices from his skin, had you squirming in his lap all over again.
"More already?" he teased, pulling you in for another kiss. You could faintly taste yourself on his tongue. "What a beautifully insatiable little mortal you are. It's as if the Norns had made you just for me." His hands freely roamed your back while he kissed his way down your neck, sucking a bruise onto your collarbone. "I've indulged myself in such fantasies of claiming you on every surface of this office. Of every room in this house. I want to lay you down on my desk without a stitch of clothing on you and get drunk on the taste of you."
You could only respond with a faint whimper, images of what he'd described taking up all the space in the forefront of your mind. "Please…"
"I promise you we'll have all the time to make every single one of those debauched fantasies come to life, sweet girl." He kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the table, softly chuckling against your lips when you started to pout at your feet hitting the ground. "But I want our first night together somewhere more intimate. A moment that shouldn't be rushed and stolen between meetings, held in secrecy in my office."
He held your chin delicately between his fingers, keeping you from looking away at him. The mere sight of the near fully blacked out eyes shining with sincerity and held back words was enough to have your knees buckling again.
"Later tonight," he continued. "When everyone's day is over, then our night can begin. I'll bring you to my private quarters and there…" He took a deep breath, a brilliant smile stretching across his face, a real one so starkly different from the practiced smirks he gave the public. "There I will make love to you."
He guided you to take a step back from him, your heart fluttering when he placed a soft kiss to your forehead before conjuring a majestic golden mirror into the room with a flick of his wrist. The image of you visibly disheveled, paired with the smeared lipstick marks all over President Loki's face, had you biting your lip trying to hold back a smile of your own.
You held the undone ribbon of your dress between your fingers. "And here I spent a good ten minutes on this trying to look all perfect," you told him playfully, a fit of giggles finally escaping you when he took the straps from your hands and used them to pull you to him once again, capturing your lips in a tender kiss.
"Much as I appreciate the effort and having you look as if you'd gift-wrapped yourself just for me with this lovely little flourish, may I say that it matters not how you dress. You were already perfect the day I first saw you on the campaign floor."
"I was wearing a ratty old sweater from college," you shot back, finding it hard to breathe.
"The color of the sky on a stormy day." He brushed his nose against yours, pressing a soft kiss to the tip. "Turn around. Face the reflection."
When you faced the mirror again, he redid the ribbon exactly as it was when you left your apartment with a wave of his hand, kissing along the side of your face as he put your clip back in your hair.
"There you are, sweetheart," he cooed, nipping at the shell of your ear. "Not a hair out of place." Another wave of his hand and he, too, had returned to his state before you walked into the office. "I'd very much like for you to join me for breakfast."
You answered only with a nod, reaching for his hand.
As he led you down the halls toward the dining room, you sent Tasha a quick text.
About what you said earlier…fingers don't count, right?
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A/N: It's finally done! The initial 5 stories goal of Kinktober 2023 are all up and I'm finally going back to writing the series I haphazardly dropped when I decided to write these pieces over a month ago. And I finally have a President Loki story in my little library of works 😳👀
I swear I didn't expect to write such a mega chonker for the first President Loki story but I got all kinds of carried away…so much so that there are scenes that I cut from the final draft that might become drabbles somewhere down the line.
For now though…back to the blorbos of 'one look & they'll know', 'relinquish the crown', 'the final Lady Sharpe', 'let me hear you', 'rules of conduct', 'feels like mine'…and some other not-so-secret projects 😳👀
Ohh…and that bit in the end where he pulls on the ribbons of her dress? This was fully the vibe:
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'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog
Kinktober taglist: @azula-karai-27
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visionsofmagic · 6 months
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day 15: steve rogers [face sitting]
࿓ synopsis • after caps shaves his beard a question pops into your mind – how it would feel to sit on his now clean face?
―❦ nsfw, licking, f!reader, cum, oral > f receiving, choking, pet names, begging, slapping, hair pulling, fingering, ordering, a bit daddy like steve, ‘is all! • 0.9k • CAN IMAGINE NOMAD!STEVE OR TWS!STEVE. we can agree that every version of steve rogers is breathtaking, so, I wanted to write something breathtaking as well, including him. so, enjoy! [kinktober m.]
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“you gotta be joking!” you said when you saw his face after he took a shower, went in with a beard, and came back with a clean face – shining in pure attractiveness, mesmerizing you enough that the words came out of you without your control, “I wonder how it will feel sit on your face.”
the next you know is that you are sitting on his face, the way you wanted it to be, as he lies down on the bed, hands gripping your ass, pushing your soaking pussy onto his face further, humming in response whenever he gets the chance to lick you, eat you, bite you – simply tasting you as if you’re the sweetest thing his tongue has ever tried.
“cmon princess,” he says, looking at you from below, eyes sparkling with the delight of seeing you in such a position – breasts bouncing, eyes blurry, mind dizzy, hands on his hair to pull and hold to stay still as you beg for more – close to the edge yet your face is full of heat, eyes avoiding to meet with his blue ones that give you weakness on the knees because of how beautiful he’s looking at you right now. 
he gets that you’re shy – can’t let you go, sit on his face completely and ride him as you get the pleasure your pussy seeks with the help of him and his warm tongue inside your folds. “don’t be shy,” he adds, smiling – ensuring you that it’s okay for you to put pressure on your weight, “sit on my face. you were the one who asked for it, weren’t you?” he teases, earning a low moan – both annoyed and excited tone can be heard.
“steve!”
he chuckles, kissing your inner thighs, looking at your face still in a way that can make you cum without even fucking his mouth. “okay, okay. no teasing. just sit on me doll, I can handle it.”
you know he can handle it! the captain has a strength that makes you a lightweight compared to it, yet, you don’t want to hurt him because you know how much you want to do it – how much you will break and use his mouth without thinking about anything else.
however, your indecision comes to an end when he spanks your ass, making your body jolt to the front, pussy travels on his clean face, earning a louder moan from you. eyes shut, you hold his hair tighter. his fingers join his tongue on your folds, then, slowly, ending your core, burning there. “sit on my face.” he orders, sounding hazardous, bringing his captain persona into the bed – the one you like to have whenever he fucks you good.
breaking into pieces, the last crumbles of dilemma disappear, leaving the lust behind.
looking at his eyes, you sit on his face entirely after saying, “y-yes, captain – ooh – cap!”
he wastes no time when he has you, tongue entering into you deeper, fingers join to it, both go in and out in sync, one after another, leaving you no time to adjust – to relax, no, he wants to make your legs shake, and he successes a few minutes after he continues doing the same thing – pussy is filled – is full with both his fingers and mouth, eyes on you, pride and enjoyment are visible on his face.
moaning his name in repeat, “steve – aggh – oh my! steve, ‘s so good, a – and, ohh, so much!” your hips move on their own, going forth and back on his face, nose touching your pussy too, making the pressure go higher – all the sense of your body appears on your lower part from the abdomen, making you go crazy as eyes roll back – the only thing you want is to cum – right into his open mouth and face, and it’s exactly what steve wants as well.
gripping you from the back of your inner thighs, he makes you sit onto his face further as if it’s possible, fingers leave your abused clit, only tongue remains – effective as ever, it sends pleasure to your body, licking it from the bottom to top, biting the flesh a little.
you – making a mess on him, don’t have no idea you’re coming until you reach the highness and slowly coming to your senses after he commands, “cum onto my face pretty, wanna taste it.”
legs get weaker each passing time because of the exhaustion hitting you, collapsing onto his chest, hands on his shoulders as you breathe deeply. his chest too – rising up and down, rapid breaths, shining lips, half of his face getting dirty with your cum. 
his hands hold you from the waist, raising your body up like its weight means nothing, then, putting you down on his lap after getting up, leaning on the headboard of the bed. pride’s marks on his smiling face as he hugs you from the back, pulling you closer to his chest.
he caresses your face and lets you clean his with the towel you brought before.
“so,” he says, playful tone in his voice, “how it felt?” 
shaking your head, you chuckle, “always such a teaser captain,” putting a kiss on his lips, you wink at him, “it was good.” a total lie – it was magnificent, yet, you decide to tease him, see if he will break and prove himself more – about how he can be the best, not just good. “is that so?” he asks, playing your little game – pushing your body onto your back, he hovers above you, a hand goes to unzip his pants as he looks at you – dominant. “then, let me do my best for my pretty greedy girl.”
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❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear @chloee0x0 *lots of kisses!*
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bellaveux · 6 months
Text
kiss of a vampire | w. maximoff
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pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader
summary: injured and alone, wanda finds herself out in the middle of the night, searching for the one person she can trust to help her. on that night, you find out what she truly is.
content warnings: 18+ minors dni. vampire!wanda, human!reader, victorian era, blood, very tiny mentions of homophobia, loss of virginity (?), smut! making out, biting, marking?, soft sex, fingering and oral (r receiving), praising
wc: 3.9k
note: surprise this is my singular contribution for kinktober hehe, happy halloween everyone!
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Fall of 1863 in New York was more or less an uneventful time of the year for you. Your mother insists you read as many books as you can find in the manor’s library, and your father insists you go out and attend all those fancy balls and infernal tea parties—all in an effort to make you more presentable for any of your future suitors. It made sense for them to do so. Your mother was a respectable woman in the town, and she married your father, a man of riches, all thanks to that company he founded many years ago. You could honestly care less, not really having to do anything but read your books all day. Occasionally, in the evening when the sun has already set and you got too fed up with turning pages, you went out for a walk down that nice, pebbled trail through the woods, leading you down to that stone bridge over the river.
That’s where you met her. Wanda.
The moon was out. The sun was gone. She didn’t wear a fancy dress like you did the first time you saw her. She wore an unbuttoned vest over her white, well-made dress shirt, black pants, and riding boots to match. Her hair was red, and for a moment, you thought her eyes were the same color. It went away when you blinked, and suddenly, her eyes were green. You had never seen a woman like her before, much less someone similar in town. All the ladies and their voluminous skirts really only had boys, and gossip filled their daily conversations. It was tiring to be around them, but being with Wanda was relieving.
She told stories. Of adventures. Of distant lands you could barely imagine. She’d tell you about the sea, the moon, and the world beyond this little town you lived in. You found solace during your time with her, and you began to look forward to your walks through the woods every evening you could. She’s always there. Like she knows everything… She was your friend. And each time you met her, your heart beat faster than you’d like to admit, and your stomach fluttered whenever you thought about her. You always wondered, does she feel the same? You supposed you’d never find out, because who in their right mind would confess to having feelings for another woman?
Forbidden. Unthinkable. Criminal. That’s what they would say about you. So, you stayed quiet.
During the latest hours of the night, sometimes you’d see the glow of torches outside your window. You hear the noises first. A woman screaming. Pitchforks and shovels thrown up in the air, metal and iron clinking against each other. The sounds of arrows cracking through wood. Monsters, your father would say. They lurk out in the night, waiting and waiting until they come up to their prey and kill… You’ve heard the stories of those vampires, wolves, demons or whatever it is they are. You found it hard to believe. Even more so that so many people are afraid of what they probably haven’t even seen.
But then you see Wanda again. Not on your walk through the woods. Not on the bridge. A quiet knock is what you hear first. You look up from your book in surprise, then see her outside your window, clutching her shoulder in pain. She’s seated on the edge of your window on the other side of the glass, giving you a weak smile despite seeing how confused and worried you were. You rushed over and opened the window immediately, telling her to get in—of course, after you yelled—or whispered, really—at her for showing up at this ungodly hour.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing here?” You exclaimed as you pulled her into your room.
But the moment she winced in pain, you immediately pulled your hands back, afraid that you might have hurt her. You watch her move to lean against the wall underneath the window. She sighs in relief, still clutching her shoulder. Your gaze falls to her hand, right where you see the stains of red seeping through her dress shirt.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she says through gritted teeth.
“You’re bleeding…” You think out loud, carefully watching her as you hold your breath.
The faint glow of torches outside your window shows up in the corner of your eye—people bustling loudly in your street. You could see Wanda duck even further beneath your window, staring up at the ceiling as you began to put two and two together.
“No…” You shake your head and take a few steps back. “You’re the one they’re looking for, aren’t you?”
Wanda’s gaze softened as she turned to you. Her mouth opened for a moment to say something, but she sighed and laughed sheepishly to herself as she shook her head. Then, you see it in her smile.
She looked up at you again, with those kind and caring eyes you’ve seen on her from the moment you met her, “Please, don’t be afraid of me.”
“Your teeth…”
“I know,” she nodded. “But, I need your help. Please. I’m begging you.”
You didn’t know what to do. “Wanda.”
“They’ll come after me if you tell me to leave, (Y/n),” she reasoned, leaning up to show you she was telling the truth.
“Did you… Have you killed someone?” You could barely get it out.
“No!” She said, “I-I haven’t hurt anyone, I promise you! I-It’s my brother. I’ve been looking for him. He’s…”
“He’s what?”
Wanda sighs and turns away from you in shame. “He’s hungry. We… We haven’t eaten in weeks. He’s got a bigger appetite than I do… I-It’s harder to control him. I think he might’ve hurt someone tonight.”
You stare at her. Her eyes were red now. Her breathing was heavy. Her fangs darted out slightly past her parted lips. You take a second to process what she had just told you. And in truth, you should’ve been scared. You should have been throwing her out of the manor, calling for your father to deal with such a monster.
But to you, she was still… just Wanda. If she wanted to kill you, you’d imagine she’d already done it by now.
You left for a moment to head into your washroom in the corner your room where you tried to find all of the medical supplies you currently had. It wasn’t much—a wet rag, a few bandage wraps, and a kit for stitches. You returned with all the items in your arms, and Wanda looked up at you with a thankful smile.
You sat on the floor with her, your white nightgown bunching up against the wooden paneling. “I… I have bandages—”
Wanda shook her head, looking down to avoid your eyes. “Thank you… But, that won’t help.”
“What will?”
Her eyes bore into yours, but her mouth doesn’t move. She has that look on her face that tells you she's too embarrassed to say or ask for it. Her hands squeezed her shoulder in pain, trying to stop the bleeding.
“Tell me, Wanda.” You say firmly, your gaze unwavering, and for a second, you thought she was intimidated by you. She was, in truth, because of her feelings for you.
“Blood.”
You pause. Then, she repeats it again.
“Blood will… replenish my energy. I haven’t eaten, so I’m weak. On a good day, this wound would not even phase me.”
“My blood?”
Wanda nods. Your prolonged silence tells her that there is no way in hell you’d allow her. Her love for you has her hoping for the best outcome—that you’d have mercy on her and help her relieve the pain. But then again, you don’t owe her anything, and this was a lot to ask. The idea of asking felt impossible even though Wanda had already mentioned it, worried that you might refuse or be horrified by the notion.
“Okay.”
She blinks at you. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. As long as you don’t turn me into a vampire or anything. I don’t mean it to offend you, but it would... complicate things.”
She nods once again, more eagerly this time. “You don’t have to worry about that. That’s, um… That’s a completely different process.”
“Okay,” you repeat, scooting closer to her, looking down at your dress and your hands as you begin to wonder if you should get a knife. “I-I’m not sure how to… do this.”
“Your neck.” She tells you. Of course.
You don’t ignore the way her red eyes darken and the way her ears perk up in excitement as you move your hair carefully to one side.
“Is it going to hurt?”
Wanda’s gaze softened at your words, “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
She watches you nod and holds her breath as she inches closer to you. Your sweet scent fills her nose with a much stronger fragrance than ever before. She has always loved the way you smelled. It soothed her in ways many other things couldn’t. It was divine, enveloping her senses each time she was near you, and she found herself utterly addicted. She had never been this close before tonight, her breath tickling the side of your neck. She could hear your heart beating fast as she moved closer.
You braced yourself, your heart pounding in anticipation for the expected pain of a vampire’s hungry bite. But it didn’t come. Instead, you felt Wanda’s soft, warm lips meet your skin, kissing it so gently in a way that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel her other hand, resting itself on the curve of your waist. Your breath caught in your throat, and your lips parted slightly as Wanda continued to press her mouth to your skin, littering your neck with the softest kisses she could possibly give you. You couldn’t help but notice the frailty and gentleness of her touches and her kisses, as if they were delicate and almost fragile.
Wanda was lost in the feeling of your skin. Every kiss left her craving for more, and she found herself losing control of the overwhelming desire she had been suppressing for so long.
You were so distracted by the soft kisses she left on you that you barely noticed the faint, almost imperceptible sensation of Wanda’s fangs piercing your skin. She was so gentle, and you expected much less when she had promised, but this… It felt too good. A moan slips past your lips as Wanda bites into you. Her first taste of your blood was nothing short of divine. So sweet. So warm. The most delicious thing she had ever put her mouth on. The flavor of you was unlike anything she had ever experienced, and it sent shivers of pleasure coursing through Wanda’s body. Every second that passed as she drank from you, Wanda began to feel her weakened body begin to mend itself. It was as if your blood had breathed life back into her. Wanda’s senses sharpened, and she felt a profound sense of rejuvenation. The pain in her shoulder began to fade away.
Wanda pulled away from your neck, running her tongue softly against the bite, before turning to look at you. The prettiest thing she ever laid her eyes on.
And Wanda couldn’t resist. She pressed her lips gently against yours and sighed against you. You gasp at the feeling as she places her hands over your waist, then down to your hips, pulling you closer against her. A soft moan falls from your mouth and into hers, and Wanda can’t help but groan. She swiped her tongue on your bottom lip, and naturally, you opened up for her, letting her in to explore the expanse of your mouth, the slight taste of iron on her tongue.
Your lips were parted slightly, and your eyelids felt heavy. But you started to feel weak and lightheaded. You found yourself leaning towards Wanda’s touch, unable to hold yourself up without tipping over, and the next thing you knew, she gently scooped you up and carried you to her bed with her mouth still pressed against yours. Kissing you became the next addicting thing for her. Wanda hovered over you as she laid you down on your back.
She pulled away from the kiss and smiled softly, “You’re so beautiful.”
Her lips traveled down to your neck once more, kissing your skin softly as she felt your arms wrap around her neck. This time, you feel it when she bites you again, unable to stop the moan that escapes your mouth. Wanda smiled as she continued to drink softly from you, her hand reaching up behind your dress to pull at the string that was holding your nightgown together as you arch your back and pressed your front against her. Your dress comes loose with a simple tug, and your cheeks flush, a deep shade of red donning your face as you feel Wanda’s hand cupping and groping your breast over the fabric.
After she pulls away, Wanda kisses your skin again, her lips traveling further south and her face coming up in between your plush breasts. She moans against you, your scent filling her nose in the most addicting way. She could smell you. How aroused you were. How wet you were. And tonight, despite all that you’ve given her, she was feeling a little greedy.
“I want you. I want to make you feel good,” she tells you, her voice all breathy against your skin. “I want to touch you.”
“Please,” you begged her, running your hands in her hair as she began to pull the dress off of you, agonizingly slowly.
When your body comes into full view, Wanda can’t help but stare. She mutters a curse under her breath before letting her fingertips run along your stomach, your nipples, your hips, and your thighs, and Wanda feels like she’s in heaven.
“Stop staring,” you say, pouting shyly as the vampire continues to ogle you.
She only smiles, fangs darting past her lips, “I can’t, angel. You look so pretty like this.”
Wanda leans down to litter your skin with wet kisses and small bruises. She eventually makes her way down to your legs, holding your plush thighs in her hands, and she kisses you, running her tongue over each part that she kisses. You allowed her to spread your knees apart, exposing your glistening sex to her shyly as she leans over, her kisses traveling closer and closer to your wet core.
“Spread your legs wider,” she said, unable to take her eyes off of you.
You do as she says, your hands now gripping your bedsheets slightly. Her fingers make their way in between your folds, softly touching your opening. She lets them move up and down, collecting your slick and spreading it all over, down in between and up to your clit, where she presses slightly harder against your bundle of nerves. She sees you when you bite your lip to stop a moan from falling past your lips. Wanda smiled at the sight. Her love bites are littered all over your skin; the bite on your neck looked more delicious than ever, and your pretty face looked up at her like she was the only one who could ever make you feel like this. Hell, it drives her crazy.
With a new sense of determination, Wanda finally slips her cold finger into you, your tight and warm walls wrapping around her digit. She sighs and leans forward to lay her head against your tummy, watching closely as she pushes her finger in, then pulling out with a squelch.
“You’re so wet for me,” she thinks aloud.
She groans, listening to the delicious sounds of your softest whimpers as she fingers you. Another finger slips inside of you, pulling them in and out of your pussy at a faster pace. Your breathing got heavy. You could feel your stomach getting tighter, but before you could come undone, Wanda pressed her thumb to your clit, working you up to your orgasm. Her fingers are long, and she can’t help but add another one into your tight, dripping sex. Her other hand holds your quivering thigh down as you tremble against her.
“W-Wanda, I’m—”
Your mouth falls open at the feeling of being filled up with her fingers. She’s much faster now, curling her fingers into your walls sloppily as she continues to press your clit, pushing you closer and closer to your high. And then, it comes. Wanda travels up and kisses you, swallowing your moans as you fall apart on her fingers, cumming all over her hand. Your back arched and your legs jerked closed as she pushed your legs back open.
Wanda carefully pulls her fingers out of you, but she doesn’t stop rubbing your clit, making you shiver against her. She rubs it in tight circles as her kisses travel back down to your neck, where she takes another greedy bite into your skin, welcoming the taste of your divine blood into her mouth once again. She groans when you pull her hair slightly, getting drunk off of your essence and the way your hands feel on her head.
When she pulls away, she kisses you again. And when she pulls away for a third time, she makes her way down your body, traveling through the valley of your breasts, over your stomach, and then her destination—back in between your legs. Her nose nuzzles against your clit, your scent filling her senses all over again.
“W-Wait, Wanda this is…”
You had never done this before. And now that Wanda was face to face with your glistening pussy, you got shy. Wanda only looks up at you and smiles, pressing gentle kisses along your inner thigh.
“I want you,” she reminds you, pulling you closer to her face. “I want to be the first one that makes you feel good. I want it to be me. Only me. Inside of you. I want to see how pretty you’ll look when I have my mouth on you.”
She says it so absentmindedly, her eyes not leaving the sight of your pussy as she spreads your lips apart with her thumbs. You couldn’t help but blush at her words, your face getting hotter each time you felt her breath on your pussy. You felt like time was ticking so slowly, with Wanda staring at you for what felt like hours. You grew tense with anticipation, waiting and waiting for her to do something. And when she finally does, your jaw drops, and a silent moan falls from your mouth. Wanda memorizes every little noise you make, the way you arch your back, or the twitch of your thigh.
She was in heaven. Your inner thighs glistened with arousal as she held you down against your bed, noting the way your hands made their way back to her red hair. Your body was a hot, trembling mess right underneath her as she devoured you, licking every space she could reach with her tongue.
When Wanda looks up and sees your mouth wide open in silent screams, arching your back off of the mattress, your soft hand tugging at her locks in a pitiful attempt to slow her down, she knows you’re close. She grew desperate. She keeps licking you, eager to get you closer and closer to your climax. You’re chanting her name as quietly as you can, eyes closed shut as the pleasure keeps building and building inside of you.
“Wanda, I-I’m about to—”
You whimpered, your legs closing around Wanda’s head. She hummed into your pussy and continued to eat you out right as you came into her mouth. She ran her tongue through your folds and over your clit softly, easing you through your orgasm with a satisfied moan. Wanda practically forced herself away from your sex, wishing for nothing but more time with you. She pulled back and sat on her legs to stare at the beauty right in front of her. She rubbed your soft thighs in soothing circles with her hands as she smiled down at you. You trembled slightly, still shaking from the orgasm she had given you.
You reached out to her, your weak arms lifting from the bed, wanting to be in her embrace again. She obliged happily, leaning down to hover over you once again. Wanda kissed you up your neck, to your jaw, and, lastly, to your lips, the taste of you still lingering on her tongue. She moaned against you and smiled into the kiss when she felt your hands slide from her neck to cup her face.
Then, you remembered.
You pushed her away softly, just so you could look at the blood stain on her shirt, where an arrow had struck her earlier tonight.
“I’m okay, now,” you heard her say.
Running a slow and gentle hand over her shoulder, you took a peek, pulling the fabric down a little bit to see her wound, but nothing was there.
“It’s gone,” you said in awe.
Wanda smiled softly at you as you continued to inspect her shoulder. You looked so beautiful. So unafraid of her. And it made her the happiest woman on Earth. She sighs and leans down to pepper a few kisses on your cheek, still surprised by her healing abilities. But you got distracted again, feeling her soft lips against your skin. The light of a candle on your night table danced across the room as she kissed you. Wanda was so gentle. Like she promised.
After a moment, Wanda turned to look out your bedroom window, where she had come in. Her senses immediately took notice of how quiet it was and how dark it was outside. The night embraced the world outside of your bedroom, blackness stretching as far as her eye could see. It was different from the warmth she felt in this sim room—a room with you, her love. It reminded her of the world and now, the secrets you both carried together.
Your voice pulled her out of your thoughts. “You have to go, don’t you?”
Wanda smiled, knowing you already knew the answer to your own question. “Your mother would throw a fit if they found me here.”
You shake your head and roll your eyes at the thought, smiling sadly as you begin to play with the fabric of her shirt.
“I’ll come see you again, angel. I promise you.”
“Tomorrow?” You ask, looking up at her with hopeful eyes.
Wanda turned her attention back to you, and her heart skipped a beat. You were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Unable to stop herself, she leaned down and kissed you once more.
“Tomorrow,” she said firmly.
With one final, lingering kiss on your lips, Wanda whispered three little words. Then, with a graceful and silent movement, she made her way over to the window through which she had entered. Wanda disappeared into the night, leaving the room she made love to you in. You lay in bed, contentment washing over you as a soft smile played on your lips. She was different from the stories you’d hear about vampires. People called them monsters, and even though you only knew Wanda, she was miles and miles away from being one.
You missed her already.
But just as she promised, you saw her again the next day. This time, with more kisses and closer encounters.
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bi-disaster-yn · 2 years
Text
Endorsement
Kinktober 2022 | Praise
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader
Summary: Bucky likes to be praised for doing a good job.
Contains: Praise kink, blindfolding, p in v sex. 18+, minors DNI!
A/N: idk about you guys but I would make Bucky a blushy mess with all the praise I’d give him.
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Bucky Barnes was a Sunday morning kind of lover.
Never in a rush, he’d indulge you completely and invest time into giving you all the pleasure you deserved.
He was talented at it too, having observed exactly what your body responded to and using that whilst also exploring new things. That was the thing: he only focussed on your pleasure and didn’t take the time to navigate his own.
That morning, he had you blindfolded and lying on your side while he spooned you. His vibranium arm stretched out where you rested your head on top of it and held your wrists clasped together so he could hold you in place.
His flesh hand was on your hip, pinning you to the bed as he took deep, explorative strokes inside you.
At this angle, he could see your face contort in pleasure. He could feel your heartbeat in your neck as he scratched it with his stubble. Best of all, he could whisper all the praise in the world for his girl in your ear.
“So beautiful like this, doll. Does it feel good? Blindfolded you so you could feel it all. Want my girl to feel as much pleasure as possible.” He mumbled against your skin as he nipped at your neck. His movements were soft, which contrasted with how tightly he was holding your wrists together.
“You feel incredible. Did you know that, sweetheart? Such a beautiful girl. And so good for me.” He groaned from deep in his chest at this point which elicited a soft whimper from you. “I could keep you here like this all day. I’d never get tired of fucking you.”
Your resolve failed you completely when Bucky moved his hand from your hip to between your legs to rub your sensitive bud softly. His grin was almost audible in your ear as you let out a surprised raspy moan.
“Bucky-“ you took a minute to bite your lip and stifle the moans that threatened to escape your hoarse throat to little avail. “Fuck… you fuck me so good! Too good, I need you all the time.”
Bucky almost paused his movements in surprise of your praise. Here you were, completely at his mercy and receiving his domineering praise, yet, you had just enchanted him with your sweet compliments. He swore his cock got that little bit harder, if that was even possible.
“What did you say, baby?” He whispered, low in your ear which sent a shiver down your spine. He continued circling your clit and slipping his cock in and out of you but almost in a trancelike state.
The loss of momentum frustrated you.
“I said you fuck me so good! Please fuck me harder! I need to feel you and how thick you are!” You retaliated, hoping this would gain more traction. You succeeded and managed to ignite something in Bucky.
“Praise me.” He commanded, picking up the pace. The instruction startled you a little and you remained in stunned silence.
“Praise me.” He repeated, this time with a rough snap of his hips that made you squeal.
“You fill me up so good, sweetheart. When you’re not fucking me, I miss you. I wish you were inside me at all times.” You managed to get out in sharp breaths as Bucky increased his efforts with both his cock and his fingers on your clit.
Then, all of a sudden, he pulled out of you drawing out a desperate whine from you. Still blinded, you could feel him manhandling you on to your stomach. Your cheek rested on the soft pillow beneath you; your wrists once held together were now pulled apart and pinned down at either side of your head.
Bucky slowly pushed into you again, making your mouth form an ‘O’ shape. The way he had you pinned down made it impossible to move so all you could do was take him.
“More.” He gruffly whispered in your ear before biting your earlobe and dragging it with his teeth. Who were you to deny your boyfriend the only thing he asked of you?
“Such a good man, Buck. So good, take care of me so well. I’ve never had anyone as good as you! Nothing as good as this! I’ll be thinking about this for days.” Your voice was gravelly by the end of your little speech but you didn’t care. Bucky was pounding into you frantically, hardly pulling out as his hips consistently hit your ass cheeks. His grunts and groans were loud and audible, as well as the sound of his dog tags jingling against his chest with the speed he was moving at. Fresh slick slid down your thighs and against his lower tummy as he hit your g-spot perfectly each time.
His hands moved from your wrists. The vibranium one held your hip while the flesh one pressed into your lower back so that your stomach was pushed into the mattress, further stimulating your g-spot and building up that beautifully overwhelming tension.
You screamed as your climax washed over you. Your full body was jolted forward and your face brushed against the pillow over and over while the blindfold heightened everything just that little bit further.
“Did I make you cum, baby?” Bucky asked breathlessly, still rutting into you.
“You did, sweetheart. I came so hard, all because of you.” You whimpered back to inspire his own orgasm.
With a soft and beautiful moan, Bucky came too. He collapsed against your back, pulling your blindfold off and peppering multiple sweet kisses to your cheek to calm you down as you panted.
“I think you have a praise kink, Buck.” You smiled tiredly after a while, content to have him lying on top of you and worshipping your fatigued body with kisses. He blushed slightly, giving you a squeeze and resting his cheek against your shoulder.
“Yeah, I think I do too.”
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kechiwrites · 6 months
Text
property lines
dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader
kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).
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synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.
wc: 2.2k
cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny
author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.
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Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.
He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 
Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).
It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 
So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.
So you agree. What’s the harm, right?
The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 
You don’t really get the chance.
Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 
"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 
"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.
The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.
“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 
Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.
“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 
He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 
“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 
No. That’s not quite right. 
It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.
Your stomach roils.
He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 
“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.
“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.
“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.
He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.
But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.
“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.
You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.
“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.
He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.
Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?
“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.
Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.
You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.
“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.
“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.
And the fear finally comes.
You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.
But the fear doesn’t go away.
And neither will your neighbour.
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god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.
find the rest of the masterlist here.
support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.
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1800jjbarnes · 7 months
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◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟐 : 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤/𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 - 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 ◇
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【Synopsis】 : Your two professors were more than happy to show you some tips and tricks to help you study.
『W.C』 : 1.36k
-> Genre: Colleg Au. Suggestive. 
Pairing: Professor!Stucky x Student!Reader 
[Warnings] : Swearing. Pet names. Hints of sex. Teasing. Dirty talk. Some man handling. Some pussy play hehe.
Masterlist | Kinktober List | Part Two
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There was a secret code in college, an unspoken rule if you will. Never, ever, by any means, fall in love, or sleep with your professors. And yes, they might be handsome, and they might be only seven or so in age difference. But never, EVER, be romantically or sexually involved.  And this rule stuck by most students and more professors. There were young girls who always fawned over the brooding, tall, and mysterious drinks of water known as their English or History teachers. And boys that would whisper among themselves who was the hottest, Ms. Romanoff, the Health and fitness teacher, or Mrs. Maximoff, the criminology professor.
But you? You swore the minute you only got barely accepted to the college―since you were late for the cut―that you would not look at your teachers in such an inappropriate and unprofessional way. Besides, you were one day going to be joining them as a professor once you pass your training exam. You always wanted to teach visual arts and Theater and this college has allowed you not only to study such majors and degrees but also train so that one day you’ll be able to teach them yourself to others.
You worked hard, studied instead of sleeping. Sleeping instead of hanging out with friends. Your life revolved around your work, and yet when you met the stand-in, since your normal teacher was away for a couple of weeks. It was like your brain no longer understood how to function. And the worst part…
Theres two of them.
Both are strong, tall, and deviously handsome. One had a voice so deep you could feel the vibrations of his vocals every time he spoke, and the other had eyes as piercing as the sun and a smile that could kill. To say they were your ideal type would be an understatement. And what was the icing on the cake? They are huge. Beefy broad shoulders, thick biceps and thighs, heavy chests. They were like super soldiers, and oh, how that made you swoon. Wanting nothing more than for them to pick you up and throw you around as if you weighed nothing. If you were to stand in between them, you surely would be caged in the best way possible.
You met them during the first term, six months ago. And every day since was a little unspoken game of cat and mouse. You didn’t flirt at first, still wanting to be professional but as your late hours at the library grew or the time spent sitting in an empty classroom for some quiet as your dorm was too loud to considerate became more common. Mr Rogers and Mr Barnes came to your aid to help you with your studies, of course. First, they would sit at the front of the classroom while you were at a row of desks. They would explain about being a teacher, cheat sheets of sorts, and tips for when to do your first training shift. Helping you understand the ins and outs of navigating college students. And then it slowly moved to one of them sitting next to you, Mr Rogers, you could smell his cologne, the musk of his natural scent. His arm would brush yours, occasionally making you see how his large biceps were. And they were definitely the same if not larger than your thighs. Your body felt so small next to him.
And then Mr Barnes sat on the other side of you. The feeling of being caged was coming to reality, and it was burning a fire inside of you. You tried to brush away these feelings. They are your professors, after all and one day, co-workers, not some school crush to dot over. But they were so smooth-talking, charming, with flirtatious smiles, and your mind couldn’t help but wonder since they are so naturally big, were they big else where…
“You get all that peach?” Mr Rogers's voice snapped you out of your lewd thoughts, redness suddenly pooling on your cheeks. You see that’s why Mr Rogers had given you such a nickname, Peach, was because of the shade of pink your cheeks would be whenever he made eye contact with you. Deep down you knew your professor shouldn’t be nicknaming his student but then again you didn’t take the classes they taught, and the longer you thought about it, the more okay it was to flirt back. After all, you were all adults.
“You seem a bit distracted today?” Mr Barnes grumbled behind you, making a shiver dance down your back. My god, if that man sounded like that on a regular, you wondered what his bedroom voice sounded like, or even better, his morning voice. “Is something bothering you?” he asked, placing his large hand on your shoulder, stopping you from turning to the side to see him. No, instead, he slowly rubbed his fingers deep into your tense muscle, making you feel relief surge through you. You almost forgot to answer the question, too focused on the older man's hands doing wonders on your shoulders.
“I-I uhmm…” You were lost, suddenly feeling Mr Rogers's hand grip the top part of your thigh, rubbing circles on your exposed flesh where the hem of your shorts are. “It’s just. M-mr Rogers…”
“Don’t worry, Peach, and I said already. Call me Steve. We are going to be co-workers soon. You should address me and Bucky as such.” He included his friend and co-worker at the end, letting you know what you’ve been told for the thousandth time, call them by their first names. “You seem tense, darling. What could ever be the cause of so much tension in this pretty body of yours.”
Your eyes snapped open now, looking at Mr Rog―uh you mean Steve―in his intense stare. Did he just call you darling? Now, your face was definitely redder than a tomato at this point. “S-Steve…”
Steve groaned, biting his lip while rolling his eyes slightly. he had to pull back for a second before returning his hand to your thigh. “God, my name sounds so good when you say it.”
You looked away for a moment, feeling your heart was going to beat right out of your chest. The next thing you knew, a pair of large beefy arms pulled you by your waist until your ass was placed onto a board, hard, lap. “Say my name Doll Face. I wanna hear what my name sounds like coming off your pretty lips.” All barriers were gone and lines were being crossed. But none of you cared anyone. The flirtation became too much, more so for the men it seems and with Bucky's lips finding the sweet spot behind your ear you couldn’t help but moan;
“Bucky…”
“Fuck, that’s it. Such a good girl.” The hold Buck had on you got tighter, and his huge biceps caged your back against his heavy chest. Your mind was spinning at the sheer thought that all Bucky and Steve had to do was squeeze you tight enough that you’d break. They are so much bigger than you, stronger than you. They could throw you around and do as they pleased to you and all you could―would―do is lay back and take it.
“We knew you’d be such a good girl for us peach. Just look at you, head empty already when we have barely touched you.” Steve chuckled, squeezing your thigh, letting his long fingers slip towards where you needed them most. “you want us to touch you, darling? Teach you some real lessons?” He emphasized the word ‘real’, all knowing that He and Bucky were going to teach you anything but a real lesson in this moment.
“Please…” you retched out for Steve, gripping his perfectly iron button-up, pulling him towards you. “Please show me…” He drew his lips to yours quickly as Bucky bit down onto your shoulder while his hands loosely move to open your legs, letting Steve cup your entire wet cunt with his huge hand. You were most definitely in for a night of your life.
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jaehyunsbreadbasket · 2 years
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Kinktober '22 Day 9: Smart Hulk
Prompt: Shapeshifting/Monster Fucking
Word Count: 531
Synopsis: Bruce's partner begged him to fuck them in his Hulk form. They learn that they should be careful what they wish for.
Consists of: Dom!SmartHulk, AFABSub!Reader, Size kink, Monster fucking essentially (Smart Hulk to Regular Hulk), Brief pain from the dick being too big, Finger sucking, Brief gagging, Reader gets fucked dumb
I had seriously overestimated my endurance, and the size of my pussy, that was grossly clear to me now. Here I lay, legs spread as wide as possible on the bed, Bruce's big, green cock squeezing inside of me. I had been begging Bruce for days to fuck me in his Hulk form, craving the feeling of a huge dick stretching me out, the sight of his huge, viridescent body hovering above me. To be honest it hurt like hell, but at the same time, it felt too good to want him to stop.
My pussy clenches around him without my control, as if it had a mind of it's own, as if it was trying to push him out. The intelligent monster lets out a big, boisterous moan at the sensation, but notices the twisted expression on my face, "I told you that you wouldn't be able to handle it sweetie. Now look at you, I'm only a quarter into your cunt and you're already spasming around me," Bruce's large verdant hand strokes my face in a way I'm sure is meant to be soft, but the weight of his hand as well as his cock just feels so heavy.
"I c-can handle it. It feels good," and it really does, the stretch is absloutly delicious, and when I look beyond the pain, the feeling of his cock repeatedly hitting my cervix is toe curling.
The way that Bruce is rocking into me, gigantic body making me hit the headboard with every thrust. He stares at me intensely with his glass covered eyes, his lips twisting into a smile.
"W-want your fingers" I whimper to Bruce, he stabilizes his enormous figure before he allows one of his massive digits to slip between my lips. I immediately gag as he hits the back of my throat, slob already drooling around my mouth.
"FUCK!" Bruce roars out, a voice not entirely his own booming around the room. He begins to piston his hips into me now, his whole cock still not fitting inside me, the bulge popping out of my stomach showing he's as far in as he can go. My whole body shakes as he loses control, thrusting into me relentlessly. The sounds that come out of his mouth are loud and angry, I can see the shift in his eyes, I'm not being fucked by Bruce anymore.
"Shit, shit, shit!" I scream after The Hulk pulls his fingers out of my mouth, takes off Bruce's glasses and smashes them, throwing them across the room. It feels like his cock has gotten even bigger and my body is beginning to feel numb. I'm so close, and at this point my mind is completely checked out.
"Cumming...cumming...cum-" and suddenly, I'm seeing white, my pussy convulsing around the colossal, inhumane, phallus inside of me.
The Hulk lets out another thunderous sound, and abruptly, I feel even more full than I did before. Huge ropes of hot semen painting my insides, "B-Bruce..." I call out.
"No. No Bruce," The Hulk responds to me.
I close my eyes and allow myself to drift off, hoping that Bruce will return by the time I wake up.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Prompt from: @waterkelpies
My Kinktober 2022 Masterlist 🎃
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 6 months
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you can’t put it in
kinktober, day thirty-one
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a/n: happy hornyween halloween! to say goodbye to kinktober, I thought it was fitting to end in the same boat as we started in. enjoy sluts ♡ I love you all so so much ♡
warnings: stepbro!peter parker x reader, smut, stepcest, secret relationship, semipublic sex, bathroom sex, halloween party, pussyjob, dirty talk, corruption kink
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023
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You properly shouldn’t have had those last few drinks. Maybe if you hadn’t, then you wouldn’t have ended up in this position, on the bathroom counter at some Halloween party, with your stepbrother slotted between your wide-spread legs, length freed from his costume and teasing your weeping mess with the tip of it. 
“You can’t put it in,” your form needily shivered as he tapped his weight against your puff, “promise me that you won’t put it in.”  
Maybe if your costume hadn’t been so revealing and his hadn’t hugged his frame so perfectly, then you would have been able to stay away from one another, but something inside of you knew that even if you both wore potato sacks and didn’t indulge in a drop of anything, then you would have still ended up in this exact same predicament. 
“Come on, princess,” Peter tugged down the neckline of your skimpy costume and played with your tits, “you didn’t have a problem with me fucking your throat sore.”
“That’s different and you know it,” you pouted, legs rubbing up against his sides as he continued to tease. Realising his grip on your boob with a playful tap, his hand then drifted down to aid his movements, pinching your petals around him as he fucked your folds, the tip rhythmically nudging against your buzzing clit. 
“Just think about how good it will feel letting me stretch this little pussy all the way out.”
“Peter-”
Eyes glued to your cunt, he ignored your plea and smirked, “maybe you just need to learn a lesson about what happens when you run around being such a fucking tease all the time…”
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© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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gogogodzilla · 6 months
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day 16, toys
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natasha romanoff x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, jealous!reader, use of ball gag, use of double-sided vibrator, reader has electricity powers, slight dom! natasha, takes place during Black Widow, afab reader kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3
You rested your head against the cool glass of the window as Natasha drove you to a safe house she knew. You’d just lost the only family you ever knew, and the loss still stung deeply in your chest. 
She grabbed your thigh and rubbed soothing circles on it, bringing you out of your thoughts. 
“It’s beautiful out here,” you commented, giving her a small smile. 
“Just wait until you see where we’re staying,” she grinned, and the lilt in her voice made you nervous. 
You’d stayed in some sketchy places before, and maybe you’d gone a little soft lately. But, nervousness gnawed at you regardless. 
As Natasha drove, the area surrounding you became more and more desolate. She came to a stop down a winding path. Your eyes widened as you took in the small metal trailer settled in the middle of a clearing. 
Natasha got out of her seat as you sat bewildered. 
“C’mon, hun,” she urged before shutting the driver’s side door, pistol held at her side. You joined her with a sigh, electricity arcing through your fingers as the both of you approached the trailer. 
Natasha’s footsteps were silent as she stalked toward the door. She opened it with one hand and made her way into the trailer. You followed wordlessly as she scanned the inside of the trailer. Finally, she kicked open the door to the bedroom and chuckled at the man sleeping soundly in the bed. 
You raised a brow and she put a finger to her lips. She leaned over the foot of the bed and tapped the man’s foot, a smile dancing on her lips. He jumped up, eyes flicking between the two of you. 
“You’re in my bed,” she noted, straightening. 
“I’m not even under the covers,” the man defended himself as he slowly got up. He led the two of you toward the front of the trailer. 
They talked for a few moments, and you observed as the man explained all the facilities that came with the trailer. Natasha stood at the bar and thumbed through the various IDs the man provided for both of you. You stood behind her, looking out the window in front of the sink. 
A lull fell over the two, and he leaned in, “Are you okay?” 
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Natasha answered, her voice wavering. You straightened and hovered protectively behind her. 
The man shrugged, “I hear things. Something about the Avengers getting divorced…” 
You scowled, and Natasha placed a placating hand on your thigh. Rick was someone you could trust, she’d said. He’d done her a huge favor by helping the two of you. Still, you didn’t like him poking around in your business. 
Natasha bowed her head for a moment. “It’s fine. Besides, I have all I need right here,” she said, snaking a hand around your hip. A warm feeling swelled in your chest at Natasha’s display of endearment. 
The man’s eyes flicked between the two of you. You’d never made your relationship known to the public, but you also weren’t exactly hiding your feelings for each other. 
“Well,” the man clapped his hands together, “seems like you’re all set. Don’t call me if you need anything.” 
The man headed toward the door, chucking a little at his own joke. You narrowed your eyes at his back as he walked to his own car. Natasha pulled you away from the door, shutting it and blocking your view of the man. 
“No need to get your hackles raised, baby,” she joked, grabbing your chin with one hand. 
You pursed your lips and tugged your chin out of her grasp, pouting. She pulled you to her, bringing you into a tight hug. You stood there for a few moments with your arms at your side. Finally, you relented and wrapped your arms begrudgingly around her.
She released you and pressed a gentle kiss on your lips. “I like it when you get jealous, babe,” she teased before heading out the door to grab your bags from the car. You rolled your eyes before following her. 
Later that night, you sat on Natasha’s bed going through her dresser drawers, curiosity and boredom pushing you forward. Your hand landed on an array of leather attached to a silicone ball neatly coiled in the back of the bottom drawer. Your fingers danced over the gag, insides alight with excitement. You lifted it out of the drawer and nearly jumped out of your skin as Natasha’s footsteps neared. 
She watched you from the doorway, a black plastic bag in one hand and a beer in the other. You raised a brow, “You use this on all the girls you bring here?”
She smirked and moved forward to grab your chin, “Only for your pretty little mouth.” She pressed the bag into your palm, took the gag from you, and set it on the dresser. The bed squeaked slightly as she sat next to you, “I figured that if we’re going to be out here for the foreseeable future, the least we could do is have a little fun.”
You were skeptical, but nonetheless opened the bag. Your hand wrapped around the smooth surface of the small cardboard box and you pulled it out. The box was white with a blue device on the front. You gave Natasha a quizzical look as you attempted to decipher the Norwegian on the back of the box. 
“It’s a vibrator, baby,” she chuckled and your cheeks flamed. Her fingertips flitted over the top of your thigh, and you weren’t sure if it was nervousness or excitement bubbling in your chest. 
The bed creaked slightly as you both shifted and before you knew it her lips were on yours. You’d thrown the box to the side, too focused on the taste of Natasha. The air around you crackled with tension, and Natasha’s hands drifted up to cup your face and bring you impossibly closer. 
You scooted back, your lips still tangled with Natasha’s as you reclined on the plush mattress. She threw a leg over your abdomen, straddling you and trapping you between her thighs. Not that you were complaining, of course. 
She gripped your chin and turned your head, allowing her to brush feverish kisses along the soft skin of your neck. Your breath caught in your throat as she sucked a lovebite against your pulse point, and your hands ventured under the hem of her shirt. 
She trailed kisses up the side of your neck. A peck on your jaw, then your cheek, and finally your lips. You sit up and tug her shirt up and over her head, your lips immediately returning to hers. 
Your hands snake around her back and undo the clasp of her bra, which she eagerly slid off. Your fingers trailed up to fondle her breasts, and her hips jutted against your own. 
You pulled away panting and tapped her thigh, “Let’s get these off.” 
Her lips curved into a smile, “Look at you being bossy.” Nevertheless, she hopped off of you long enough to remove her jeans. The bed sunk under her weight as she crawled forward and helped remove the clothes that were separating her from your flushed skin.
Natasha pushed you backward and hovered over you.
“So perfect,” she murmured as her eyes raked over your naked form. She moved to touch where she could, tracing her hands over the column of your throat, down to the valley of your breasts, over your ribs, then over your hip bones. A soft whine left you as she avoided everywhere you needed her. 
She tsked and leaned over you to grab the ball gag. “As much as I love those pretty little noises you make…” she trailed off, and you opened your mouth for her. She was gentle as she clasped the buckle behind your head. Your lips wrapped around the silicone ball, and you took a deep breath through your nose. She took the vibrator out of its packaging, her eyes glued to yours. 
 Her hands skirted over the insides of your thighs as she positioned herself between them. She hooked her arms around your thighs, keeping you in place. She pressed kisses along your inner thighs, and you bucked your hips against her grasp. 
She pulled you towards her and licked a tentative stripe through your folds. Your whine reverberated against the ball gag. Her fingertips dug into your thighs as she latched onto your core. You arched your back against the mattress as her tongue expertly circled your clit before dipping down to tease your entrance. 
You tangled a hand into her scarlet locks, aching for something to ground you. She kept her plush lips attached to your clit as she slid a finger through your folds, gathering your slick. 
Slowly, she sunk a finger inside of you and you gasped as much as you could against the gag. She pumped her finger a few times before swiftly adding another one. Her pace was brutal, quickly rocking her fingers against you while her tongue continued its ministrations. 
She pulled away and the whine that escaped you was almost pathetic. She placed a placating kiss on your inner thigh before grabbing the vibrator and running it through your folds. 
You bucked your hips and clenched against nothing, desperate for anything she’d give you. Drool was slipping out the sides of your mouth, and you huffed a breath through your nose. 
She turned the vibrator on and circled it around your clit, and your hips jumped against her. The vibrator quickly replaced her fingers inside you, and you felt your release rapidly building within you. 
Your breath caught in your throat as Natasha lifted her hips and lined the other end of the vibrator up with her entrance. She threw her head back and let out a soft moan as she sunk down onto the vibrator. 
She grabbed the backs of your thighs and snapped her hips against yours. You let out a breathy moan against the gag, and she reached down to knead your breasts. She trailed her fingers up to wrap lightly around your neck as she ground against you. 
Your moans were increasing in pitch and frequency, and the air seemed to crackle around you. 
“You gonna cum for me, baby?” she panted as her her hips stuttered against your own. You furiously nodded your head as that familiar coil tightened inside you, seconds away from snapping. 
You gripped her forearm as your orgasm ripped throughout your body. The energy within the air made your hair stand on edge, and a high-pitched whine escaped you as the ceiling light above you brightened and then blew with a loud pop. 
Natasha jolted against you but continued her movements as she followed you over the edge. Once pleasure edged into overstimulation she pulled out of you, panting. 
She turned off the vibrator as she slowly pulled it out of you. You arched your back at the loss, and she rubbed a soothing hand across your thigh. She hovered over you to undo the buckle of the gag. 
Natasha pressed a kiss against your temple and then your jaw as she set the gag to the side. “Did so good for me, baby,” she praised, trailing her fingertips up your side. 
“That was fun,” you grinned. Your gaze moved up to survey the damage you did to the light. “Got any spares?” 
Natasha laughed and shook her head, “Nope.” 
You pressed your lips together and nodded. “Guess we gotta head into town.” 
“Yep.” 
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Kinktober (12)- Non-Bed Surface
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Professor Wanda X Reader 18+
Summary: You stay behind after class to have some alone time with your professor
Warnings/Tags: Professor Wanda/Student Reader, Desk Sex, Praise, Oral sex, Fingering, Dirty Talk
Kinktober Masterlist
“And that will be all for today,” Miss Maximoff says, “You can go now, enjoy the break.” The classroom almost erupts into cheers as students start to pile out of the classroom, the last lesson of the term finally over. As everyone else rushed to leave the school, you slowly packed your things away, gaze flickering up to the woman who was leaning against her desk, green eyes fixated on you.
“What are you going to do during your break Miss Y/L/N?” Her delicate voice breaks the silence of the room, a smile tugging at your lips as you stare at her for the formalities.
“Well, I hope to spend most of it with my girlfriend,” you say, strolling up to her desk and slotting yourself in front of her, mouth going to her ear, “Preferably spending most of it between her legs.”
“What about on your knees for her?” she rasps out back, hands slithering around your waist as her mouth descends to your neck. “I’m sure she’d love that,” she murmurs before kissing the juncture of your neck, hands pulling your body flush against hers while drifting dangerously low on your back.
“Would she now?” you sigh out back, the feeling of her mouth against your throat, teeth scraping gently clouding your mind with pleasure and arousal.
“Definitely,” her accent wraps around her words adding a slight rasp, the sound creating a throb between your thighs. Her mouth kisses along your jaw before finally reaching your lips, ghosting hers over yours just to tease, “Now come on Detka, on your knees for me.”
Wanda gives you a quick kiss, her mouth moving against yours passionately as your hands hold onto the table next to her before she pulls back. Her hands go to your shoulders, pushing you down softly as you drop to your knees, peering up at her with darkened eyes as you anticipate what’s to come. Her hands tangle in your hair, soothingly scratching your scalp as she watches you hitch up her skirt, mouth parting at the sight of the red lace she was wearing underneath.
“Fuck,” you mutter, the wet patch visible as you lean forward to place a kiss on her clit through the fabric.
“Don’t tease me Detka,” she husks out, voice laced with dominance while her hands tighten in your hair as a warning. You obey her, using your finger to slide her panties to the side so your tongue could run through her folds. “Good girl,” she moans out when she feels your tongue swirl around her clit, fingers holding onto her thighs and slowly inching closer to her core. You alternate between sucking and licking at her clit, revelling in the breathy sighs and small whimpers that escape her, the loud moan that's ripped from the back of her throat when you thrust two fingers into her effortlessly. “Yes baby,” she groans out when you curl your fingers inside her at just the right time, now pumping them into her at a steady pace. You can feel her walls clenching around you and how her hips try and buck slightly towards your face, her hands tightening their grip on your hair as her orgasm nears. You suck harder on her clit, a hand leaving your hair to clamp over her mouth as she moans your name. Her body tenses and legs tremble slightly as her orgasm washes over her, your name falling from her lips like a prayer as she tries to quieten herself.
“Come here,” she pants out, hand going to your throat and pulling you to your feet before crashing her lips to yours. You slide your fingers out of her, a groan escaping her lips, and pull back from the kiss to slide them into your mouth. You moan loudly at the taste of her arousal and cum on your fingers, eyes trained on her lust-filled ones as your cheeks hollow around your digits. “Fuck, do you have any idea what you do to me?” she murmurs, mouth going back to yours for another passionate kiss. Her hands go to your waist, turning you two so you are pinned against the desk before lifting you onto the wooden surface.
“Wanda,” you moan out as she swipes everything off her desk, not bothered by the mess created, and roughly pushes you onto your back. Her body towers over you as she stands in between your legs, hand resting on your throat gently. Wanda knew you loved it rough and decided today would be the day she made your fantasy of being fucked on her desk come true.
“You want me to fuck you like this Detka?” she purrs, tightening her hold on your neck making your eyes roll back slightly. “You want me to fuck you here on my desk?”
“Please,” you whimper out, her hand moving to unfasten your jeans so she can slide her hand into your panties. “God,” you groan out when she slides two fingers into you, her other hand bracing her body above yours so she can watch you come undone beneath her. Her fingers are relentless as she fucks you, your mind fogged with pleasure as all you can feel is the way her fingers move inside you, the dirty words she’s whispering to you.
Your hands grip her forearm as you feel your orgasm building rapidly, leaving small crescent shapes from your nails. Her name and moans tumble out of your mouth, her thumb circling your clit as she pumps her fingers in and out of you in a way that has you seeing stars.
“Come for me Detka,” her sultry tone sends you straight into your orgasm, lewd noises filling the room as she fucks you through your first and straight into a second. Your legs shake on the desk, mouth parted in a silent scream as you try and come down from the high of your two orgasms, your breathing laboured as you look up at her face. “Such a good girl for me,” she whispers, kissing you softly and guiding you to sit on the edge of her desk. Wanda mirrors your earlier actions, cleaning her fingers off with her mouth and making you watch, a low groan escaping you, and moves to wrap her arms around your body.
You lean into the embrace, moving your head so it is rested against her chest but still looking at her as you snake your arms around her waist.
“How about we go back to home,” she whispers, looking at you with a smirk that contrasts the soft look in her eyes, “And you can make a start on your holiday plans.”
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visionsofmagic · 7 months
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day 14: bucky barnes [dilf]
࿓ synopsis • you’re his sugar baby, so, he want you to show your gratitude to him in the way he pleases the most.
―❦ nsfw, sugar baby!reader, f!reader, sugar daddy!bucky, licking, fingering, neck holding, pet names, pink panties, sucking, begging, ‘is all! • 0.8k • writing about mr. barnes once again and having so much fun while doing it, enjoy! [kinktober m.]
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“yes, like that baby, take it and be the good girl for me,” his liquor smell rushes to your nose, hand grips your hair from the neck, pulling your face forth and pushing it back, the taste of his cock on your tongue, licking it in pleasure, want to get more and more of it as you cry, tears washing your cheeks, salvia dripping onto his abdomen whenever his cock fill up your mouth. “fuuck – feels so good, mouth so good.”
whimpering, you let a few low moans at his praising, getting closer to your climax as he gets, earning a growl from him the moment your moans send a kind of pleasure jolt to his veins, flowing from his cock to his whole body.
sitting on the ground, on your knees, you don’t care about how much your knees have the color of red since being in that position for a while now. the only matter is him – satify him.
you look at his face from the below. he looks so good, blue eyes as piercing as ever, gazes travel on your body and face, making you see the power his hold of you – bucky barnes owns you in a way no one can. it’s not about the money, no, not at all – it’s just about being his both pretty baby and lover – he says it every time – he says that you’re worth it all.
and there you are again, being his obedient sugar baby as he fulfills his desires that he has for you.
still sitting on the couch, he looks down at your pathetic face, a smirk’s ghost is visible on his attractive face, sending you chills and getting proud of yourself. to do more for him, you begin to massage his balls with your left hand whereas the other one finds your clit underneath your pinky panties that is written eat me on it – bucky’s favorite; that panties on you, and nothing else.
his hand on your hair getting tighter, pulling you back, his cock appearing as it leaves your warm mouth full of salvia and precum coming from his fat cock. “oh look at my princess,” he says, kneeling down to your level, nose to nose as he holds you by the neck addition to the grip on your hair – his blue eyes burning your body alive as he looks hazardous. “turned on so much from sucking my cock with that pretty mouth of yours that you began to finger yourself without getting a permission from me?”
your mind tries to comprehend every word he says yet it seems so difficult because you just want to suck his dick again, making it wet enough that he will bend you over the table behind you, fucking you mindlessly only to take good care of your exhausted body afterward – the definition of fucking as an enemy and loving as significant other.
he shakes his head, understanding that you have no idea what he’s talking about. leaving your neck, hand grips your hand now, taking it from your soaking pussy. “did I allow you to do that? hm?” he asks, licking your wet fingers full of your juice, and looking directly at your face while doing it. “did you forget what you should do first?”
finally, the realization hits you, heat rushing to your cheeks as you nod, beginning to say sorry how you are, “so sorry buc –“
he slaps your face with his cock, furrowing, and leaving your body freely as he leans behind, opening his legs wider – his dick stans right in front of your face, his jerking off while waiting for you to get yourself together.
“daddy! ‘m so sorry daddy – please –“
“please what, princess?” he asks, smirking when you look at his dick inside his hand, mouth begin to get wet on its own, eyes sparkling, and you look like you’re nothing but only his fucktoy. even though you’re so much more than that – more than everything in his life, he likes to have you like this – pathetic little cocksucker for him.
“let me suck your cock, daddy, please!” having no dignity, you let out a cry, hands finding his inner thighs as you put your head onto one of them, pouting so that he will get softer and let you. the quicker you make him cum into your mouth, the sooner he will begin to fuck you.
“since my pretty baby asked so nicely,” he puts his cock’s tip into your mouth by opening them within it, then, without waiting, pushing it into your mouth in one go, earning a deep painful yet full of pleasure moan from you – swearing at the sudden high feeling of pleasance, he chuckles, “suck your daddy’s cock nicely, then, maybe, I will fuck that greedy pussy of yours.”
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❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear @chloee0x0 *lots of kisses!*
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Harvest Moon
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Steven Grant X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 4: Sex Pollen
Summary: Being Khonshu's avatar has some... unexpected effects.
A/N: I'm so sorry. Set before Steven knows about Marc.
Warnings: sex pollen - so dubcon (both sides are effected, Steven more than reader and both had a crush on the other before they were infected), love bites, cum eating, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, cuming in troursers, so much cuuuuummmm, typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning!
Word Count: 4073
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Steven couldn’t concentrate. 
It was strange, a fidget just below his skin. Like every muscle was contracting and relaxing at random intervals.
He took off his reading glasses and sighed, rubbing his eyes to try to shift whatever was going on. Maybe he was tired. 
Which didn’t make much sense. He was always tired. 
Perhaps this was the accumulation of trying to survive on three hours of sleep or less every day for most of his adult life. 
He tried again to focus on the book in front of him, leaning an elbow on his desk. The words twitched on the page, flickered as if they were going to jump up and run off the paper at any moment. 
The strange thing was, he didn’t feel tired. Quite the opposite in fact. He was full of energy, jittery as if he’d just downed five coffees made with Red Bull instead of water and a handful of Pro Plus. (Though, he usually steered clear of coffee - for some reason it made him sleepy.) 
Still, the fidgety, restless energy seemed to only build. Grow deep in the pit of his belly and squirm around like he’d swallowed live eels that were now making a home in his large intestine. 
It almost burned, the blood in his veins boiling from the inside. He stood up, agitated and restless. Maybe, maybe he just needed to go for a walk. Use up some anxious energy, yeah, that was it. 
Steven glanced at his phone, it was 19:54, not late. He could maybe walk to the corner shop and back. The fresh air would help. Surely that would put him right. 
He stood, fighting the urge to shake his muscles, and put on his trainers. 
Yeah, go out, go to the shop, come back, he’d feel better. He’d feel so much better. 
“I’ll be back in a sec' Gus.” He gave the goldfish a little wave as he put on his jacket and checked that he had his keys. 
That restless energy, the burn of it seemed to increase, grow even as he moved. Buzzed behind his eyes. 
Slowly, Marc was pulled forward, woken from deep down. He watched Steven move from the reflection in the fish tank, confused for a moment until… he recognised that energy, those sensations that were running along their nerves. 
Panic gripped hold of him as he tried to force his way to the front, to push Steven back. 
But… nothing. 
He swore and tried again, not caring if Steven heard him, he needed to take control, get the body to the storage locker, steal the door and take those medical-grade tranquillisers he hid under the mattress. 
How could he have been so stupid? How could he have lost track of the days so badly? 
He pushed forward again, trying to seize control. But it was hopeless like he was separated by a thick layer of glass. 
This was bad, this was bad, this was bad, this was so very, very bad. 
There was a small breeze, cool air that made Steven turn, look over his shoulder and glance about the flat for a window he had left open. Nothing. 
Marc swore loudly. This was Khonshu’s doing. It had to be. 
The god had been uncharacteristically silent the last few days, and quiet the previous couple of weeks. Luring Marc into a false sense of security and letting him give more and more time up to Steven. 
Poor Steven, who had no idea what he was in store for. 
The first time it had happened Marc had thought he was going to die. The way his heart beat, his blood burned, every single muscle crying out at once. He’d had enough panic attacks in his life to know that this certainly wasn’t one, and for a brief moment, he thought that he had been poisoned. 
It wasn’t until Khonshu appeared and explained. The phase of the moon at that time of the lunar year. It had been a cause of celebration, festivals honouring new life. And due to Marc’s role as an avatar, he was ‘gifted’ with the effects. 
A gift he would very much like to return and never see again. 
Khonshu had been… displeased by Marc’s rejection, by his unwillingness to observe the traditions of the old ways. But had stayed quiet when Marc sealed himself away and knocked himself out.
Marc had wrongly assumed that the moon god had got over it. Realised that there was no way his avatar would take part. 
He didn’t think he would use Steven instead. 
Marc had to take control, had to stop him from going outside, from running into other people and experiencing the effects. He tried to push forward again to no avail as Steven stepped out of the flat, his mind buzzing. 
Steven blinked heavily, trying to shift the little spots of light that had started to dance just at the very corners of his vision. He fumbled with his keys for a second, sweat beading on his forehead. When had the corridor become so hot? He pulled at his collar, trying to cool himself. 
There was a warmth growing in his lower stomach, and heavy an uncomfortable weight, like lead straining at his muscles. He needed… something. There was an odd carving at the back of his throat, a constriction of his windpipe that seemed to pull at-
“Hi Steven.”
He turned suddenly, his body moving well before his mind had even caught up. 
You smiled at him from the other side of the corridor as you stood outside your flat, your bag pulled over your shoulder, keys in hand.
Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no. Marc screamed inside the headspace. Not you, not you, anyone but you. 
You had moved in a little over three months ago. Had smiled and chatted briefly with Steven when you both ran into each other in the lift. 
It was only four weeks ago when Steven had found himself outside in the streets of London late at night (sleepwalking again). He had managed to get back to the flat with the help of city mapper and it was only when he was outside the block of flats that he realised he didn’t have his keys. 
After a few nervous minutes, he had pressed your buzzer with shaking hands and stumbled out an apology. To his absolute shock and dizzying relief, you can come down to let him in with a kind smile. You had even invited him into your own home while he waited for the 24 locksmith to arrive. Served him cups of tea and vegan shortbread biscuits while you both talked. 
Steven had been quietly remorseful when the locksmith finally arrived. 
As he was leaving you had invited him to a live music event you were going to at the Fox and Firkin, but sadly Steven had been working that weekend. 
He had been steadily working up the courage to ask you out, something casual. Relaxed. Informal. So you both could talk and maybe he would get a chance to judge your interest on a proper date. But the longer he left it, the more awkward it seemed. The more nights he spent in the shower fisting his palm and moaning your name behind his hand. 
Marc pressed harder against the mental block, swearing under his breath as he fought for control. 
Steven’s pulse quickened, heat prickling all over his skin as blood rushed downwards. He swallowed, the embarrassment that he would normally experience completely swept away by a deep mind-numbing ache. “Hi.” He whispered. 
You frown a little. He looked like he was in a daze, his skin flushed and pupils wide. “You okay?” 
The softness in your voice, the genuine concern for him made Steven snap. A small growl escaped his chest. It was like all his senses had heightened and pinpointed, narrowed. He needed you. 
“Ste-”
He moves faster than you thought possible, surging forward and pinning you to the wall with a bruising strength that knocks the air from your lungs. You don’t even have time to gasp before his lips are on yours, his hands on your waist as he pushes his thigh between your legs.
You murmur his name into his mouth, your surprise cut off by the glide of his tongue and how his body presses into yours. 
Marc smacks against the barrier fruitlessly, unable to do much more than watch as Steven’s sensations begin to bleed into his own muscles. 
Steven’s skin is feverish, heat rolling off him in waves as he grinds against you. The hard outline of his cock presses against your stomach, you can almost feel his rapid heartbeat through the denim of his jeans. 
Instinctively you react to him, grabbing hold of his shoulder and neck as you kiss him back and slide your tongue against his as he kisses you greedily. For a second you’re sure you're dreaming. It’s the only possible explanation. There’s no way that your lovely, and seemingly oblivious to your every attempt at flirting, neighbour would suddenly jump you on a Thursday night and snog the life out of you.  
You pull at his hair, lightly at first, but increasing the pressure when that does nothing. You barely manage to yank his head back an inch before his lips are on yours again, all tongue and teeth as he nips a trail down to your jaw and sucks a messy bruise just below your ear. 
Somehow you manage to hold down your whimpered moan and speak, “Steven, what’s… I mean-oh shit-” You cut yourself off, biting down on your lip as his hand slide up to squeeze your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardening nipple. 
There’s a faint ghost of a breeze, though from where you’re not sure. For a second a small wave of dizziness and heat run across your skin. 
“Steven,” you try again even though you're pressing up against his every touch eagerly. “What’s going on?”
He groans against your neck. “I’m-I’m so sorry, I don’t know, I can’t, I need you so badly, I just,” he tries to halt his movements, to take his hands off your body, but the second he’s a fraction of a millimetre away from you an intense pain drills along his spine. He whimpers and presses closer, continuing to rub his heavy cock against your thigh. 
“Did you take something?” You gasp, breathless as you try (and fail) to not grind your hips in time with his. It’s the only explanation, right? Though if there was a drug that made someone intensely horny you were sure you’d have heard about it by now. 
He shakes his head, his mouth too preoccupied with sicking more love bites into your neck to speak. 
“Do you think someone could have drugged you?” 
Steven mutters something intelligible as he sinks his teeth into your skin and a strangled moan escapes your lips. This wasn’t right, none of this way right. Heat, stronger than anything you’d ever experienced before, began to burn in your lower belly. You had a crush on him, sure. You’d happily go on a date with him and be down for more after but this… You’d never been so desperate to fuck someone in your entire life. 
It was like you were starting to lose the ability to think clearly, and you were worryingly sure that if you let this go on much longer you wouldn’t have any issue with riding Steven right there in the middle of the hallway. 
“Steven,” you yanked his head back again by his hair, using an amount of force that would have normally been painful. 
Instead, Steven groaned, closing his eyes as he arched back exposing the taunt lines of his neck for you. 
“Love, please.” He whispered, though what he was begging for exactly, neither of you were sure. 
“Let’s go inside.” You muttered, rushing your words together in an effort to hold yourself together for a little while longer. 
You turn, just managing to struggle out of Steven’s grip to put your keys in the lock and open your front door. 
Steven moans as you move, but quickly goes back to grinding against you. Pressing himself up against the swell of your ass and sighing as he kisses your neck. 
You practically fall inside from Steven’s weight pushing against your back. But his strong hands on your hips keep you upright. His fingers slip under your top, greedily searching for your soft skin as you manage to close the door before he’s on top of you again.
He pushes you against the door, your chest pressed up against the wood as he pinches your nipples through the lace of your bra. He growls as you moan and arch back into him, your nails digging into the wood grain. 
He ruts against your ass, rubbing his clothed erection against your soft flesh with a burning vigour. The weeping head of his cock is soaking into his boxers, but he can’t stop himself, can’t break away for a single moment, can’t spare the few seconds it would take to undress. 
His little gasps and whimpers of air as he picks up his pace sends a flood of heat to your core and you gasp as he bites down on your neck hard. His left hand continues to squeeze your breast while his right snakes down and pushes under your leggings and underwear. 
There is the tiniest voice in the back of your head, a worry that you would normally have that things are going too fast, but Steven’s moans in your ears, the feeling of his hands on you drowns everything out. 
He presses his forefinger against your clit and moans at the wetness that he finds between your legs. Quickly, he circles your bundle of nerves over and over in time with the manic grind of his hips. 
His breathing stutters. Just being pressed up against you like this is too good, the burning along his veins turning into molten lava as he continues to buck like his life depended on it. 
The coil in his stomach starts to tighten uncontrollably, pressure at the base of his spine exploding outwards and-
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He moans loudly as he cums in his trousers, the pleasure whiting out all other thoughts as his hips falter. 
You slow your movements down, coming to a stop as Steven breaths hard against your back. You open your mouth to speak, to ask him if he feels better. But you never get the chance. 
In a blur he’s spinning you around, kissing your mouth harshly enough to knock your head back against the door with a thud. You barely register that despite obviously cumming, (the wetness on his jeans that press into you) he’s still rock hard and sweaty. His pulse thumps under your hands, so fast that you can barely distinguish each beat. 
He pulls you to the ground, practically lifting you off your feet, and tearing off your clothes as if they had personally offended him. You try to undress him, barely getting his jacket off his shoulders and not even starting on his t-shirt before he’s kissing down your body and shoving his face into your core. 
You gasp as he places a long flat lick through your folds, groaning at the taste and grinding his cock against the carpet. 
“Steven-”
“Need to make you cum, please,” his voice is gravelly and wrecked, burnt out and desperate but he doesn’t stop the movement of his tongue, ending the lick by sucking at your clit and quickly slipping two fingers inside you. 
He curls them perfectly, looking up at you with dark, pleading eyes. Pleasure sparks along your nerves as he fucks you hard with his fingers, watching your every reaction as he keeps his lips sucking firmly against your clit. 
You moan loudly, enough that you’re probably going to get a noise complaint, and screw up your eyes, your back arching off the carpet. 
The stretch of his thick fingers makes you whine as they work you open, finding every spot to make you fall apart as quickly as possible.
You grab hold of Steven’s hair with one hand, pressing him firmly against you and another low growl erupts from his chest as he pulls your left thigh over his shoulder and picks up the pace. 
His tongue and fingers move in a hypnotic tandem, dragging you closer and closer to the edge with a dizzying speed. Your toes curl, your breath catching in your throat and all you can do is just feel that mind-numbing pleasure he is pulling you towards.
His name falls out of your mouth in a repeated jumble as you move against him thoughtlessly, your hips chasing every touch. 
Steven moans against you, flicking your clit with the very tip of his tongue before sucking on it ruthlessly and stars explode behind your eyes.
You cum against him with a sob as your strength rushes out of you like a dam has been broken, your muscles clenching around him in utter bliss. 
But all too quickly for your liking his pulling his fingers out of you and sitting up. You’re barely back to thinking straight as you lean up on your elbows, about to question him when you stop in your tracks, your mouth hanging open.
Steven groans as he shoves his fingers into his mouth, lapping up your creamy release. He pushes at his aching cock with the heel of his free hand, his hips jerking up into the touch. He looks like a god, skin flushed and sweaty, his hair dishevelled and sticking out at windswept angles. Your cum all over the bottom half of his face. 
He gives you a dark look, his eyes almost blind with lust as he struggles to undo his fly without taking his fingers out of his mouth. 
You lean up and quickly help him, marvelling at the strength in his thick thighs as he kicks them free of his jeans and boxers. 
Your mouth goes dry and you swallow at the sight of him, the tip flushed and needy. Thick and long and you pause. Fuck. He was big, really big. Clarity seems to flash in your mind for the first time since you both went into your flat. How the hell were you going to fit that inside you?
Steven growls, kisses your neck, scraping his teeth over your pulse point and already edging forward as you lift up his t-shirt over his head. 
Being away from you for a second hurts. Makes his stomach twist and nerves scream. His dick twitches impatiently, already smearing precum (and his release from before) all over your thighs as he pushes himself between your legs. 
“Steven,” you start to say. The needy whine in your voice hampering your words. 
“Yes love?” He forces you back down and takes himself in hand. 
“I just, I’m-oh!” 
He’s not even thinking about his actions before he’s already sheathing himself inside your tight, wet heat. 
You gasp loudly, grabbing hold of his shoulders as he pushes impossibly deep, making you fuller than you have ever been and still he’s pressing deeper. 
You whine out his name in a sob as he bucks against you, pulling out a little before he pushes further in, stretching you wide. 
He swears under his breath, his eyes closed, brows furrowed together as he pulls out a centimetre before sinking deeper. Out, in, out, in, out, in, until finally he bottoms out. And it's heaven.
Steven doesn’t even give you a second to adjust to his size before he’s fucking you hard, bucking his hips like he wants to completely destroy you. Needs you to shatter under him. 
You’re so full you can practically feel him in your throat, the stretch so deep that it’s like he’s pushed all your internal organs higher, limiting your lung space and not letting you take a full breath. 
He grabs hold of the backs of your thighs, snarling as he forces them towards your chest, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he positions you into a mating press. His hips never falter, continuing their deep, hard onslaught that hits at a part of you you didn’t know existed. Every thrust sends a wave of pleasure up your spine, so perfect that it’s almost inhuman. Your slick coats his cock, smearing on his thighs as he fucks you within an inch of your life. 
“Steven,” you whine, your eyes rolling back as your second orgasm hurtles towards you. 
“Fuck, love,” he growls in your ear, biting at your neck. “So wet for me, so needy, I’m gonna break you, I’m gonna make you all mine.”
You moan loudly. Pleasure beginning to drown out every thought. His public bone grinds against your clit, making you want to scream.
“You know how many times I’ve cum thinking about you and what you’d taste like?” He growls as he snaps his hips in a relentless rhythm. “So fucking better than anything I could imagine.” 
You grab hold of him, your muscles tightening as his words send you over the edge. You cum hard, crying out as he ruts into you through it. 
He snarls as he cums, but his hips don’t stop as he pumps load after load of his spend into you and fucks it deeper until you're completely full. 
Your breathing starts to recover momentarily, but Steven is still rock hard and hitting that devastating spot inside of you so perfectly that it makes your head spin. 
Pleasure starts to creep back into your stomach and you whine, sobbing at the overstimulation. 
“Love, I’m so sorry,” he bites his lip, trying to slow his hips to no avail. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 
“It’s okay,” you manage to stammer out as his thrusts punch the air from your lungs. “Don’t stop.” Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes. Too much, but you needed more. The idea of him stopping now boarding on painful. 
“Won’t stop, promise.” He moans against your lips, pushing you closer to the edge again. “Fuck!” He pulls out quickly and you whine. 
But you're barely given a second to lament the loss before Steven’s pulling you up with him. Your limbs are like jelly and you’re thankful for his surprising strength as he turns you around. 
You expect him to enter you doggy style but instead, he kneels down, his hands on your thighs and under your knees, and lowers you onto his cock with a dizzying speed. Your moan catches in your throat as he fills you. The stretch of this angle is intense as the head of his cock presses perfectly against that sweet spot inside. 
Steven groans as your walls clench around him, your own slick mixing with his cum to let him glide in. 
He places your legs outside of his and grabs hold of your breast with his right hand, kneading and squeezing it in time with his deep thrusts as his left toys and circles your clit. 
He bounces you up and down on his cock as he mouths at your neck, adding to the love bites from before, his chest pressed flush to your back. 
“S-Steven,” you barely get the word out, your nerves flayed raw with pleasure as he keeps pushing you higher and higher. You’re weak, light-headed and desperate as he growls in your ear; as he plays your body, brings you closer again like he had every cell memorised. “I’m gonna,” you sob. You don’t even get to finish the sentence. 
Another deep trust and you cum, squirming on his lap in bliss as your orgasm overtakes you. 
Steven swears, bucking up into you and biting his lip as your wall clench around him, trying to squeeze out every last drop as he follows you into that mind-shattering ecstasy. 
He cums deep, some spilling down his cock despite how tightly he is pressed inside, your pussy just too full to hold anymore. 
As you breathe deeply, trying to recover he holds you tightly, his hips still bucking upwards. His hard length still pushing firmly inside you. 
“Love,” he whines, reaching down again to stroke your clit. “Please, just one more, just one more.” 
How could you ever deny him? 
____________________________________
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