Professional Fangirl

For the last few weeks, you’ve seen a new trend pop up on Instagram every time you take a moment to sit down and scroll. While you’ve never been one to try them out, no matter how fun they may look, this one caught your eye from the first time you saw it. Men melting into their partner’s kisses when they have to keep their arms up is something that immediately made you think of Tony, as you’re sure he will not even last a second.

So, for the next few days, you’re trying to find the perfect moment to do so, and it just so happens that your twins - Hudson and Orion - wanted to have a sleepover at their grandparents’ house, to which they immediately agreed. They were picked up not long after, and now you have the entire house to yourselves, which makes for the perfect moment of your plan.

While you’re normally not at all shy about sharing affection and kissing Tony in front of your kids, you have a feeling that your husband might not be able to stop at just kissing you. So, now that the moment is finally here, you can’t help but let out some giggles at the thought of what’s about to happen. You’re seated at the kitchen island while Tony is cleaning up from dinner, and he looks at you with a questioning look, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

“What’s going on, Sunshine?” At his question, you let out a few more giggles before getting up and rounding the island to get to his side. His eyes follow your every move, and his hands immediately reach out to your growing belly where you’re growing your third little miracle.

“As much as I want you to touch me, I would like to try out something where you can’t,” you tell Tony as you grab his wrists, pushing them away from your belly and up into the air. “All you need to do is stand here and keep your hands in the air, okay? That’s all you need to do.”

Tony squints his eyes in suspicion, but he trusts you completely and does as you ask, both his hands in the air, even though he wants nothing more than to touch you, to kiss you, and to make love to you. You smile widely as one of your hands reaches out for his shoulder, and the other wraps around his neck to let your fingers slide into the soft hair on the nape of his neck, your nails scratching ever so gently.

His eyes slip shut immediately, and that’s when you seize the moment, your feet lifting until you’re standing on your toes - Tony is still quite a bit taller than you are, after all - your mouth gently pressing against his soft, pink lips in a kiss that sends your heart flying. After all these years, you’ve never gotten over how it feels to kiss the man you love, the father of your children, and the man you’re growing old with. It’s still like fireworks every single time.

At this, it doesn’t surprise you that Tony doesn’t even last a single second, as he immediately deepens the kiss to let his tongue explore with your own, his hands sliding down your back and side to pull you impossibly closer. A soft moan escapes your lips as his hand finds your ass, kneading softly over the fabric of the sundress you’ve decided to put on today. Then, without leaving your lips for even a second, he lifts you onto the kitchen counter before stepping between your legs and pulling you towards the edge.

“You can’t expect to kiss me like that and not do anything about it, Sunshine. You’re too fucking irresistible,” he says between the kisses he trails over your jaw and neck, your head falling back to give him all the access he needs. The soft scrub of his facial hair makes your entire skin feel like it’s on fire, and your back arches into him as he sucks on your most sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder.

“Sei bellissime con il mio bambino dentro di te,” Tony whispers, and the sound of the words slipping so effortlessly from his mouth has your panties ruined immediately. They already were from the moment he lifted you, but hearing Tony speak Italian is the closest feeling to having an orgasm without him touching you, and you’ll never get tired of hearing it.

“Fuck-” he whispers as he loosens the straps of your dress, the knots falling apart without resistance to reveal your bare chest, nipples peaking from the air hitting them, as well as your arousal that soars through every single inch of your body.

“You look so good, Sunshine. Can never get enough of you.”

His fingers glide over your inked skin, following every single line of dark and colored ink as he makes his way to your breasts. His lips follow the path he makes, and before you know it, they wrap around one of your nipples, making you moan loudly as he wraps an arm around you to ensure you won’t fall back. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire in the best way possible, and your husband is responsible for setting every single nerve ending ablaze.

“You, carrying my baby again-” he says after releasing your now hardened, sensitive peak as his free hand glides over your bump, “I’ll never get enough of it. You’re gorgeous like this,” he says before latching onto the other one, a very similar moan escaping your lips once again. You try to close your thighs in order to get at least a little relief, but your husband standing between them makes that impossible.

“Hmm, someone’s a little needy today, huh?” he asks, and you nod without thinking about it. You’re already so close to the edge from him sucking on your nipples and touching you ever so gently that you can almost taste it on your tongue, but you need just a little more to fall over the edge of blinding pleasure.

“T-Tony,” you moan, and without needing to say anything else, he happily obliges. Within seconds, his pants and underwear are around his knees, his thick, long cock already dripping as it’s almost painfully hard, while your dress is bunched up and your panties are pulled to the side. His hand is wrapped around the base of his cock to stop himself from finishing the second he enters you, and his thumb on his free hand is gently gliding through your arousal.

“Look at you, all dripping for me,” he groans before slipping the digit into your entrance, your head falling back at the feeling of him inside you. “Looking so sexy with your round belly, carrying our love, while your sweet pussy is begging to be fucked. God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

And with that, he’s moving forward, his thumb immediately replaced with the head of his cock before he gently pushes in, letting your body adjust to the thickness that’s trying to enter. After all these years, your body still needs time to take him, and Tony will happily oblige every time you do. He’s never in a hurry, always taking his sweet time to ensure you won’t get hurt.

It only takes a few small thrusts for him to be buried to the hilt, and you wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders to steady yourself, as you cannot trust your own arms to hold you upright anymore. His hand snakes around your waist to pull you even closer to the edge, your legs wrapping around his hips. You couldn’t be closer to him if you’d tried, and you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in this world than right in his arms. In there, you feel safe and loved, bringing tears to your eyes. It’s not something you’ve always felt and something you’ll never take for granted, and all Tony does is kiss the falling tears away before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Ti amo, Sunshine. Non posso credere di poterti avere così ogni singolo della mia vita,” he whispers as he gently starts thrusting, your bodies moving in sync as he says those words to you. The Italian, combined with his soft touches and his thrusts, has you falling even more in love with him, and a feeling of nothing but pure safety washes over you. You let go of every thought you possibly had, your husband invading every single one of your senses now.

“Cum for me, Sunshine. Cum for me and I’ll be right there with you,” Tony tells you before capturing your lips, his hips setting a pace that has you on the edge sooner than expected, and at his plea, you do exactly that as you cling onto him, your moans uncontrollable as your walls tighten around his cock, making him groan loudly before filling you up with his warm seed.

“That’s it, sweet girl. You’re doing so well for me. Good girl,” he whispers as he works you through your orgasm, his lips placing featherlight kisses on your cheeks as his hands are rubbing your back. Soft, sweet sounds fall from your lips as he pulls out his cock, leaving you empty for only a second before his fingers scoop some of the cum that is dripping out, pushing it back in with his thick, large fingers.

“You feel so good, Sunshine. Around my cock, my fingers, everywhere,” he says before pulling them back out, leaving you empty once again. But this time, instead of repeating what he just did, he steps out of his clothing to leave it on the floor, and he lifts you effortlessly once again to bring you to the bathroom, where he’s drawing a nice, relaxing bath for the two of you to enjoy.

“What scent would you like to use?” he asks, and you point to your favorite, making your husband smile knowingly.

“Should have known you’d pick that one,” he says after he put the bubble bath in the warm water, the tub slowly filling up as he turns back to you.

“Now, let’s get you out of these clothes and into the water, okay?” he asks, and you just nod. He doesn’t require you to speak right now, knowing you’re still coming down from everything that just happened. Your entire body feels like it’s made of cooked noodles now, and he knows it, so he’s more than happy to take care of you in every way he can.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to sit in the water, your body nestled against his chest with his hands rubbing your bump gently. Your eyes are closed as you listen to the music he put on, your breathing slowing down as you enjoy the warmth enveloping you, and your husband whispering sweet words to you. A sweet mix of Italian and English is hitting your ears, though you’re too sleepy to hear all of them.

“I love you, Sunshine. And I love it even more when you’re melting into me like this,” he says before placing a kiss on the top of your head, and that’s when you finally give in to the sleep that has been wanting to overtake you for a while now. As much as you wanted to see how he would melt into you, you’re even happier to be the one who melts into his touch every chance you get.

Fandom (or OG story): Marvel Comics, but a fantasy AU

Full Name: Althea Featherwine

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: Human equivalent to 25 - so probably 300 years-ish?

Species: Elf

Race/Ethnicity/Class: Half light elf, half dark elf. Product of the very short-lived, non-consensual marriage of Malekith and Queen Aelsa, so she is both the princess of Svartalfheim and Alfheim

Describe them physically: Dusky blue skin, white hair, one eye is blue, the other white with black sclera, runes etched into her skin, 5'9" and lean. In human glamour she has olive skin, black hair, one grey eye and one brown, 5'5" and slightly more curvy.

Describe how they dress: Always ready for a fight, so usually full leathers. As a human, plain and simply as to not draw attention to herself.

Favourite Things: Her wolf, Bjorg, the perpetually blooming gardens in Alfheim, being amongst the trees in the forest by Tony's forge, listening to Tony and Peter playfully bicker in the evenings.

Least Favourite Things: Malekith. Not being in touch with her light elf talents after spending so long in Svartalfheim using dark magic.

Hobbies: Target practice with a bow and knives, collecting wildflowers, correcting Tony on his entirely unreasonable opinions on magic.

Quirks: She's always looking for hiding places, she won't feel safe without knowing all possible escape routes. Fear of iron - being injured too badly would undo her glamour and reveal her identity.

What's up in the romance department (and if they're aro, are they in a queerplatonic relationship): She'll yearn for Tony, but they're way too busy fighting their own demons to act on it, I haven't quite decided what to do there. They form a little family with teenage Peter and she's fiercely protective of him.

Best Qualities: Fearless, will fight until the end. Sees the beauty in everything.

Worst Flaws: Suspicious, quick to anger and fight, keeps secrets and lies.

Would you say they're a good person: Yes, though she would not agree.

Fears/Phobias: Being found by Malekith, losing Peter and Tony.

Tell us in a few lines how you got the idea for them/how they came to be: Reading the War of the Realms and wanting to have a magical OC, but also someone who keeps terrible secrets that will eventually explode in their face.

If you feel like it, add some sketches, drawings or pictures of your OC or anything that relates to them:

Here's some sketches of her with and without glamour

“Please. Carla’s a lightweight. Try my Aunt Marie and her slideshow of timeshare properties.” You slip off your heels, immediately losing three inches. “Besides, I liked her. She told me about the time you got caught stealing a golf cart in high school.”

Hank’s laugh is low and genuine. “She promised she’d take that to her grave.”

“She also said you were ‘trouble with a capital T.’” You move further into the apartment, taking in the windows overlooking the city, the expensive but understated furniture. “I’m starting to think she was right.”

“Trouble?” He follows you to the living room, close enough that you can smell his cologne. “That’s a strong word. I prefer ‘selectively rebellious.’”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“What would you call it?” He’s standing too close now, eyes locked on yours with that intensity that probably wins him cases. It’s definitely winning him points right now. 

“I’d call it…” You pretend to consider, tapping your finger against your lips. “Calculated chaos. You like to push boundaries, but only when you know exactly what you’re doing.”

His smile is slow, dangerous. “You’ve got me all figured out after one dinner?”

“I’m observant.”

“So am I.” His gaze drops briefly to your mouth, then back up. “And I’ve observed that you’ve been eye-fucking me since the appetizers.”

Heat floods your cheeks, but you refuse to look away. “That’s a bold accusation, counselor.”

“It’s not an accusation if it’s true. And if it helps…” He leans in slightly, voice dropping. “The feeling’s mutual.”

The air between you crackles. You should say something witty, maintain the banter, but your brain is suddenly occupied with how good he smells and how much you want to know what that mouth tastes like. 

Hank breaks the tension first, stepping back with a knowing smirk. “You want a drink? Or…” He pulls open a drawer in the coffee table, producing a small wooden box. “I’ve got something better if you’re interested.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Are you offering me drugs, Mr. Palmer?”

“I’m offering you premium cannabis from a completely legal dispensary.” He opens the box to reveal a neat joint and a lighter. “But if you’d preger to maintain your innocence…”

“Please. I went to college.” You settle onto his obscenely comfortable leather couch. “Light it up.”

He sits beside you - not quite touching, but close enough that you’re hyperaware of his presence. The joint flares to life, and he takes a long drag before passing it to you. Your fingers brush in the exchange, and you swear you feel it everywhere.

The weed is smooth, expensive. Of course it is.

“So tell me,” Hank says, watching you through the smoke, “what’s a woman like you doing slumming it with a burned-out defense attorney?”

“Slumming it?” You pass the joint back. “You have a penthouse apartment and smoke weed that probably costs more than my car payment.”

“Fair point.” He takes another hit, and you watch his lips wrap around the joint with entirely too much interest. “But I’m still curious. You’re smart, funny, gorgeous. You could be having dinner with someone who doesn’t have a reputation for being an asshole.”

“Maybe I like assholes.” The weed is starting to hit, making you bolder. “Or maybe I just like you.”

“Yeah?” His voice has gone lower, rougher. “What is it you like, specifically?”

“Fishing for compliments?”

“Fishing for information.” He passes the joint back, and this time his fingers linger against yours. “I like to know what I’m working with.”

The touch sends electricity up your arm. You take a drag, holding his gaze. “I like that you’re smart enough to keep up with me. I like that you don’t bullshit. I like…” You lean closer, emboldened by the week and the want pooling in your belly. “I like that you’ve been undressing me with your eyes all night and you’re not even pretending otherwise.”

“Why would I pretend?” His hand finds your knee, warm and solid. “You wore this dress for a reason.”

“Maybe I just like the dress.”

“Maybe.” His thumb traces a small circle against your skin. “Or maybe you wanted to see if I’d notice.”

“Did you?”

“I noticed everything.” His hand slides higer, just slightly. “The dress. The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking. How you kept crossing and uncrossing your legs during dessert.” His eyes are dark now, pupils blown wide. “You’re not subtle, sweetheart.”

“Neither are you.” you stub out the joint in the ashtray on the coffee table, then turn to face him fully. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Hank’s smile is pure sin. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

“Show me.”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. 

His mouth is on yours before you can take another breath, and fuck, he kisses like he argues - with complete confidence and devastating precision. His hand slides into your hair, angling your head exactly where he wants it, and you moan into his mouth because this is exactly what you’ve been thinking about since you watched him destroy a witness on cross-examination this afternoon. 

You start to pull away, thinking he’ll lead you somewhere else, but his hand tightens in your hair, keeping you exactly where you are. 

“Right here,” he growls against your lips, and then he’s pulling you down onto the couch, your back hitting the leather cushions. “Can’t wait.”

“Hank -” But whatever you were going to say dies in your throat because he’s already pushing your dress up over your hips, his hands hot and urgent on your thighs. 

“Need you now,” he mutters, mouth moving to your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. “Been thinking about this all fucking night.”

Your fingers fumblr with his shirt buttons, clumsy with want and the lingering haze of the weed. “These goddamn buttons.”

“Fuck it.” He pulls back just enough to yank the shirt over his head, buttons be damned, and Jesus Christ, he’s gorgeous. Lean muscle, a dusting of dark hair across his chest, that sharp V of his hipsbones disappearing into his jeans. You want to trace it with your tongue. 

“Your turn,” he says, voice rough, and helps you wiggle out of your dress. It gets caught on your hips for a moment, and you both laugh breathlessly as you work it off, tossing it somewhere across the living room. You’re left in just your black lace bra and matching panties, sprawled on his couch, and his eyes go dark, hungry. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, reaching for you again. “You’re perfect.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“I’m counting on it.”

His hands slide around to unhook your bra with ease, and then his mouth is on your breast, tongue circling your nipple, and you arch into him with a gasp. His other hand palms your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, and the dual sensation makes your knees weak. 

“These need to come off,” you manage, tugging at his jeans. “Now.”

He shifts back on the couch, giving himself room to work his belt buckle. The clink of metal, the rasp of his zipper, and then he’s pushing his jeans down his hips and -

“Holy shit.”

You sit up abruptly, eyes locked on his cock. Because there, glinting in the low light, is a curved barbell piercing through the head of his dick. A Prince Albert piercing. 

Hank freezes, then a slow, wicked smile spreads across his face. “Surprise?”

"You have a…" You can't quite finish the sentence, still staring. "When did you - why didn't you -"

"Mention it?" He steps closer, completely unbothered by your shock. "It doesn't usually come up in dinner conversation. 'Hi, nice to meet you, I have genital jewelry.'"

"I mean, fair point, but -" You reach out tentatively, then pause. "Can I?"

"Please." His voice has gone rough again.

You wrap your hand around his shaft, feeling the weight of him, the heat. The metal is smooth and cool against your palm, contrasting with his hot skin. He's thick and hard, and the piercing adds a whole new dimension you're trying to process.

"How long have you had it?" you ask, stroking him slowly, watching his jaw clench.

"Five years. Got it after my divorce was finalized." He exhales sharply when you thumb over the head, the barbell moving slightly. "Needed to do something wild. Something just for me."

"And you chose to pierce your dick."

"I contain multitudes." His hand slides into your hair again, gentle but possessive. "You okay with it?"

"Okay with it?" You look up at him, then lean forward, pressing a kiss to his hip. "Hank, I'm fucking fascinated."

You take him into your mouth before he can respond, and the sound he makes is absolutely filthy. The piercing feels strange at first - the metal against your tongue, the different texture - but then you're adjusting, learning how to work around it, and Hank's hand tightens in your hair.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he groans. "That mouth of yours."

You hum around him, taking him deeper, and his hips jerk forward involuntarily. You can feel the piercing against the back of your throat, and it's weird and hot and you want more. You pull back, swirling your tongue around the head, paying special attention to the jewelry.

"You keep that up," he warns, voice strained, "and this is going to be over embarrassingly fast."

You release him with a wet pop, grinning up at him. "Can't have that. I have plans for you."

"Yeah?" He pulls you up, kissing you hard. "What kind of plans?"

"The kind where I find out exactly what that piercing feels like inside me."

His eyes go black. "Fuck, the way you talk."

"You like it."

"I fucking love it." He hooks his fingers in your panties, dragging them down your legs. "But two can play that game."

He pushes you back onto the couch, spreading your thighs, and then his mouth is on you and you forget how to form words. His tongue is wicked, circling your clit with perfect pressure, and when he slides two fingers inside you, you arch off the couch with a cry.

"So wet," he murmurs against you. "All this for me?"

"Don't - ah - don't get cocky."

"Too late." He curls his fingers, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "I'm already thinking about how you're going to feel wrapped around my cock. How that piercing's going to hit all the right places."

"Jesus, Hank!"

"That's it, sweetheart. Let me hear you."

He works you with his mouth and fingers, relentless and skilled, and you're climbing fast, thighs trembling. But just before you can tip over the edge, he pulls back, and you actually whimper at the loss.

"Not yet," he says, crawling up your body. "When you come, I want to be inside you."

"Then get inside me already," you demand, reaching between you to wrap your hand around his cock again. The piercing is slick now with your saliva and his precum, and you stroke him firmly. "I want to feel this."

"Condom," he manages, reaching over to his jeans crumpled on the floor nearby. He fishes one out of his wallet. "Unless…"

"I'm clean and on birth control," you interrupt. "You?"

"Clean. Tested last month." He pauses, searching your face. "You sure?"

"I want to feel all of you." You squeeze him for emphasis. "Every inch. The piercing."

"Fuck." He positions himself between your thighs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. "You're going to ruin me."

"Good." You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer. "Now fuck me, counselor."

He pushes inside slowly, and the sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt. The stretch is perfect, but it's the piercing that makes you gasp. The metal a distinct pressure, a ridge of sensation that drags against your inner walls as he sinks deeper.

"Oh fuck," you breathe, nails digging into his shoulders. "Hank!"

"I know." His voice is strained, forehead pressed against yours. "I can feel how tight you are. How wet." He bottoms out, buried completely inside you, and you both groan. "Jesus Christ, you feel incredible."

"The piercing -" You can barely form words. "I can feel it. Right there."

"Yeah?" He pulls back slightly, then thrusts in again, and the metal catches against that perfect spot inside you. "That good?"

"So fucking good." You roll your hips, experimenting with the angle, and the piercing shifts, sending sparks of pleasure through your core. "Move. Please move."

He doesn't need to be told twice. He starts a steady rhythm, each thrust deliberate and deep, and you can feel every inch of him, every ridge of that metal barbell as it drags in and out. The sensation is overwhelming - the fullness of his cock combined with the unique stimulation of the piercing hitting places you didn't even know could feel this good.

"You're so fucking tight," he groans against your neck, hips snapping forward. "Taking me so well."

"More," you demand, meeting his thrusts. "Harder."

"Greedy." But he complies, fucking into you with more force, the leather couch creaking beneath you with each powerful thrust. "This what you wanted? To get fucked by a guy with a pierced cock?"

"Yes - fuck. Yes!" Your head falls back against the couch cushions, pleasure building with each stroke. "Wanted this since I saw you in that courtroom."

"Yeah?" His hand slides down to grip your thigh, hitching your leg higher, changing the angle. The piercing hits even deeper now, and you cry out. "Wanted me to bend you over the defense table? Fuck you right there?"

"God, yes." The image makes you clench around him, and he groans. "Would've let you."

"Dirty girl." He captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, tongue sliding against yours as his hips maintain their relentless pace. "I knew you would be. Knew you'd be perfect."

The praise mixed with the filth makes you moan into his mouth. Your hands slide down his back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he moves, the sweat starting to slick his skin. Everything is heat and friction and that maddening metal that keeps hitting exactly where you need it.

"Wait -" You push at his chest, and he stills immediately, concern flashing across his face.

"You okay?"

"More than okay." You grin up at him. "But I want to be on top. Want to control how deep that piercing goes."

His eyes go dark with lust. "Fuck yes."

You shift positions, and he lies back against the couch cushions, hands on your hips as you straddle him. You position yourself over his cock, then sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch. From this angle, you can feel everything - the stretch, the fullness, and especially the piercing as it drags along your front wall.

"Oh my god," you moan, settling fully onto him. "This is…fuck!"

"Look at you." His hands slide up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. "Taking all of me. So fucking beautiful."

You start to move, rolling your hips, finding the rhythm that makes the piercing hit just right. It's intoxicating, having this control, being able to angle yourself exactly where you need him. You brace your hands on his chest and ride him harder, chasing the pleasure building in your core.

"That's it," he encourages, hips bucking up to meet your movements. "Use me. Take what you need."

"You feel so good," you gasp, head falling back as you grind down on him. "That piercing… it's hitting - right there!"

"I can feel you getting tighter." One of his hands slides down between you, thumb finding your clit. "You're close, aren't you?"

"Yes - don't stop!"

He rubs tight circles over your clit while you ride him, and the dual stimulation is almost too much. The piercing keeps hitting that perfect spot inside you with every roll of your hips, and his thumb on your clit is relentless, and you're climbing so fast you can barely breathe.

"Come for me," he commands, voice rough. "Want to feel you come on my cock."

"Hank…fuck! I'm -"

The orgasm hits you like a freight train. You cry out, body going rigid as pleasure crashes through you in waves. You can feel yourself clenching around him, pulsing, and the piercing makes every contraction feel more intense. Your thighs shake, and you would collapse if his hands weren't on your hips, holding you steady.

"Fuck, that's beautiful," he groans, watching you come apart above him. "You're so fucking perfect."

You're still trembling through the aftershocks when he sits up, wrapping his arms around you, and kisses you deeply. You can feel him still hard inside you, the piercing a constant pressure, and despite having just come, you want more.

"Not done with you yet," he murmurs against your lips. Then he's lifting you off him, and you whimper at the loss. "Hands and knees, sweetheart."

You move on shaky legs, positioning yourself on all fours, and look back over your shoulder at him. He's kneeling behind you, one hand stroking his cock, and the sight makes you clench with renewed want.

"You're going to feel me so deep like this," he says, running his other hand down your spine. "That piercing's going to hit different angles."

"Show me," you challenge, arching your back.

He lines himself up and pushes in with one smooth thrust, and you gasp because he's right - from this angle, he feels impossibly deep. The piercing drags along your back wall now, creating entirely new sensations, and when he starts to move, you have to drop to your forearms.

"Fuck, Hank!”

"Too much?" His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he fucks into you.

"No. More, harder!"

He gives you what you want, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with your moans and gasps. You can feel the piercing with every thrust, that metal ridge catching and dragging, and it's driving you insane.

"You take my cock so well," he groans, one hand sliding up to grip your hair, pulling your head back. "Like you were made for it."

"Yes!"

"Love watching myself disappear inside you." His other hand comes down on your ass with a sharp smack, and you cry out. "Love feeling how wet you are. How tight."

"Don't stop," you beg, pushing back to meet his thrusts. "Please don't stop."

"Not planning on it." He releases your hair, both hands gripping your hips now, using the leverage to fuck you even harder. "Going to make you come again. Going to feel you squeeze my cock while I fill you up."

The dirty talk combined with the relentless pace is pushing you toward another edge. You can feel it building, that coil of tension in your belly, and every thrust of that piercing winds it tighter.

"Touch yourself," he commands. "Want to feel you come around me."

You slide one hand between your legs, fingers finding your clit, and the added stimulation makes you moan. You're so sensitive, so close, and with him fucking you from behind and your fingers on your clit and that goddamn piercing hitting places that make you see stars -

"Hank - I'm going to…"

"Do it. Come for me again."

Your second orgasm is somehow even more intense than the first. You come with a scream, body shaking, inner walls clamping down on his cock. The piercing makes every pulse feel magnified, and you can hear Hank cursing behind you, his rhythm faltering.

"Fuck - you're so tight. I can't -" His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. "Where do you want me?"

"Inside," you gasp, still trembling through your orgasm. "Want to feel you come inside me."

"Jesus - fuck!" He thrusts into you three more times, deep and hard, and then he's coming with a guttural groan. You can feel him pulsing inside you, feel the heat of his release, and the sensation triggers another wave of aftershocks. "Fuck - sweetheart -"

He collapses over your back, both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat. His cock is still inside you, softening slowly, and you can still feel the piercing, a gentle pressure now instead of the intense stimulation from before.

"Holy shit," you manage after a moment.

"Yeah." He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. "That about covers it."

You shift carefully, rolling off him and settling back against the couch cushions. He follows, pulling you against his chest as you both stretch out along the length of the leather sofa, your back to his front. His arm drapes across your waist, and he presses his face into your hair, both of you still catching your breath.

"So," you say, still catching your breath. "That piercing."

He laughs, low and satisfied. "What about it?"

"Best decision you ever made."

"Yeah?" He turns his head to look at you, a lazy smile on his face. "Better than going to law school?"

"Significantly better." You roll onto your side, tracing patterns on his chest. "Though I appreciate that law school gave you the stamina for that performance."

"Performance?" He catches your hand, bringing it to your lips. "Sweetheart, that was just round one."

Heat pools in your belly again despite the fact that you just came twice. "Round one?"

"You didn't think I was done with you, did you?" His eyes are dark again, hungry. "I've got all night to show you exactly what this piercing can do."

"Well," you say, grinning. "When you put it that way, counselor, I'm ready for your closing argument."

He laughs, pulling you on top of him. "You're going to be the death of me."

Tony had been shamelessly flirting with you since the first day he laid eyes on you. Something about Pepper’s innocent little assistant just drove him absolutely nuts.

And those mini skirts you wore around the office? He could have sworn you were doing it just for him. And don’t even get him started on when you wore pants—your ass had never looked better.

So when he finally got you into his bed, he made sure you had the best seat in the house: his face.

You cute little innocent thing, you really thought you were going to hurt him if you put your full weight on him. To prove you wrong, he secured his strong hands around you, pinning you flush against him before he started expertly licking and sucking on your clit. You threw your head back in pure pleasure, the vibration of Tony's low groans echoing underneath you.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been eaten out, but it was definitely the first time a man had devoured you exactly the way God intended.

Tony was utterly lost, taking his sweet time to explore your folds with his expert tongue while his nose nudged at your clit, flicking it to absolute perfection.

Every flick of his tongue was precise, finding the exact rhythm that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. He started sucking on your clit once again, pulling you into his mouth until you were whimpering his name, your hips helplessly rolling against his face.

He had never been so damn hard in his entire life. 

Unable to take it anymore, he slipped one of his hands down to the hem of his briefs, freeing his thick cock.

With your head still thrown back, you opened your heavy eyes, only to catch your reflection in the mirror on the ceiling directly above the bed.

“You like what you see?” Tony mumbled against you, noticing how you immediately bucked your hips against his mouth at the sight.

Your eyes stayed glued to the ceiling mirror, slowly tracking down from his broad chest and marked abs to where his hand was now rhythmically stroking his length. Your cheeks flushed a deep, breathless crimson.

“You like being dirty, don’t you?” he asked, though it sounded a whole lot more like a statement. 

You only bit your lip, nodding as a breathless gasp escaped you. The sheer sight of Tony Stark completely beneath you, driven absolutely crazy just by eating you out, was something you found mind-numbing, extremely hot.

You could stop looking at how he stroked himself. 

Tony smiled against your skin, his chest vibrating with a low laugh. “The shy ones are always the naughtiest,” he murmured, before immediately diving back into his ministrations.