Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
dick grayson x reader
summary: you and dick try to decide on a movie for date night while he's out on patrol
contains: fluff, established relationship, gender neutral reader
word count: 900
a/n: first nightwing fic dont flame me if it's bad
“How about Princess Diaries?” you asked Dick, holding the phone up to your ear with one hand as the other scrolled through Disney+.
He took a moment to reply, the sound of punches and grunts coming through the other end of the line. Barbara had set up a private comm line for the two of you to talk through when the rest of the Batfam got sick of hearing Dick complain about missing you all night. Most of the time you left him alone to focus (much to his dismay), but tonight you had very important business – movie night.
“We watched that like two weeks ago, baby.” A loud thud sounded and Dick buffered for a moment. “What about Empire Strikes Back?”
“Dick, we rewatched the entire Star Wars franchise last month. There’s only so much Mark Hamill I can take.”
Dick gasped dramatically in disbelief, making you sigh, immediately knowing where this was going. “You take that back right now,” he said, his tone playful.
You hummed in reply and continued to scroll through various streaming services, trying to find a movie to land on. Dick stayed quiet on the other end of the line, something that only happened when he was truly focused and you didn’t want to disturb that. You heard him briefly switch lines and mumble something to Babs about a location he needed. It was the little moments like this that you cherished most in your relationship. Dick Grayson wasn’t a subtle person, he loved loudly with all the flourish and extravagance an acrobat carried. But when he slowed down, placid and focused, it was a different type of intimacy.
“Dick?” you whispered, afraid to disrupt the silence that had fallen over you.
It took another moment for him to reply as you listened to the sound of his escrima sticks landing. “Yeah, baby?”
“What was that movie you said you wanted to show me the other day? The other princess one?”
“Oh The Princess Bride? I love that movie.” You could practically hear his mood pick up.
“Let’s watch that then,” you settled. “What time do you think you’ll be done, babe?”
“I can leave right now if you want,” he replied.
“I didn’t ask if you can leave, I asked when you’ll be done. I don’t want you to cut your patrol short for this,” you sighed. You loved Dick and you wanted him back home, but you also know he has an important duty to the city. Blüdhaven is your home, someone has to protect it no matter how badly you want to cuddle up on the couch with your boyfriend and watch cheesy movies all night.
“I’ll head home after this next spot, how ‘bout that?”
You smiled, and even though Dick couldn’t see you, his heart warmed at the thought of coming home to you. You agreed and the two of you fell back into that comfortable silence. Well, as silent as it could get for being on a comm line with a vigilante in one of the most crime-ridden cities. For every page of your book you turned, there was a grunt or a kick, or the occasional smashing of glass. Dick’s heavy breaths became white noise, soothing you as you awaited his return home. No matter how anxious the sound of fighting – the sound of him risking his life – made you, the sound of his soft humming reassured you that he was there. Because in a world of suffocating silence, Dick would always be there to fill it in some way or another.
Thirty minutes later, you heard keys jingle through the phone and you smiled, looking up at the door expectantly. As it creaked open, the line cut and your boyfriend stumbled through the door. Most nights after patrol, Dick would sneak in through your bedroom window, but today he entered through the oak door with a shopping bag in one hand and keys in the other. As he set them on the table, you saw the little star keychain you had given him for your one year anniversary glint in the light. Dick looked up at you with a smile, his eyes softening under the domino mask, and you quickly got up to embrace him in a hug. You tilted your head, reaching up to peel the black mask off of his face. Dick dropped the grocery bag softly onto the carpet as he lifted his hand to cup your cheek. He kissed you softly and slowly, filled with passion that showed just how much he had missed you today. As he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours and placed one final kiss against your lips.
“What’s in the bag, handsome?” You asked slyly.
He smiled brightly at you. “Popcorn among other things. It’s movie night, baby.”
Dick left you to set up the movie while he showered and changed. When he came back, the living room was filled with blankets, pillows, and way too much junk food that Alfred would rat on him for later, but the man couldn’t be any happier. He pulled you into his arms and collapsed onto the sofa, the smell of his expensive cologne engulfing you. You tilted your head up to place a kiss along his jaw before pulling the blanket up higher, settling in against your boyfriend as the title screen of The Princess Bride appeared.
thinking about the batboys (including bruce bc that’s dada) brat taming you <3
cw : fem!bratty!reader, aged up characters, rough p in v sex (lots of it…. lots), fucking in the batsuit, everyone here is a mean dom, pet names, spanking, overstimulation, oral (f AND m receiving), fingering, i gave up halfway through, duke is a softie for his girl <3, not proof read!!!, i wrote this in one sitting, im not creative & these got repetitive im sorry
; bruce wayne
you’re rolling your eyes at him for the umpteenth time, so hard they might get stuck that way.
“go ahead! share your completely incorrect and twisted version of events!” your hand flies up, holding it in his face. “mhm!”
which is brave. very brave of you. because no one talks to batman that way.
his jaw tightens, white lenses of the cowl fixing on you. it’s both intimidating and the exact reaction you wanted… and it gets you wet knowing you riled him up successfully.
“careful,” he growls lowly, that wide bubble of patience he usually has shrinking fast.
but you keep going, droning on and on about how you’re in the right. that this couldn’t be your fault. you’re batting your lashes at him, offering up a slimy, fake-ass smile.
before you know it you’re pinned against the batcomputer console, huge arms caging you in, cape large enough to drape around the both of you.
“you think you can talk to me like that, little girl?”
you don’t get the chance to snap a reply. a gloved hand rips your shorts and panties to the side, the last bit of patience he had draining, leaving you on display exactly like you deserved to be.
normally bruce is so meticulous in how he preps you for his cock, but not this time. her sinks in in one brutal thrust.
“you’re such a— nghh,” the insult dies as he hits that spongy spot inside you just right, your brattiness turning to nothing but broken moans in real time.
you won’t be cumming until you’ve apologized. batman does not tolerate brats; he breaks them.
; dick grayson
dick laughs in your face the second you start giving him attitude.
“aw, feeling a little bratty tonight, huh?” he’s patronizing you and he knows it gets you wet.
you roll your eyes and scoff, holding up a your palm in a talk to the hand gesture.
dick catches your hand mid-air and spins you until you’re pinned against the wall of your apartment. you should’ve known better, known you didn’t have a chance against him, but you often pushed your limits.
no space is left between you now and dick takes that as his opportunity to grind his hard cock against your ass, lips brushing against your neck.
“keep talking shit. see what happens.”
and you do. running your mouth, wrinkling your nose, the whole nine yards.
bad idea.
he smacks your ass so hard it stings before throwing you over his shoulder.
“you’re so hot when you’re mad,” you’re set on the bed, bouncing a little on the mattress, and then you’re met with dick’s stupidly handsome smirk. “but we’ll need to fix that attitude.”
you end up tied down at the wrists before he spends a ridiculously long time eating you out, stopping right before you cum every time.
“hm? what’s that?” he languidly licks at your oversensitive clit. “you wanna cum?”
you’re whining is met with no remorse, just an infuriating little grin from between your legs.
“thought you were too busy being a brat.”
unlike bruce, dick will fuck you as a reward for your apology. he’ll bend you in every position until you’re begging for him to stop.
; jason todd
this is basically foreplay. arguments are usually a result of your brattiness and his temper and it usually ends in hate sex.
he’s significantly less patient than his adoptive brother and father, so arguments don’t last too long. you’re rolling your eyes, insulting him, even getting in his face until your nose to nose.
that’s when he snaps.
“alright, that’s fucking it,” he grabs you by the throat, cock twitching hard at the little sound you make when he squeezes your sensitive flesh.
doesn’t matter if you’re in the safe house, in an alley against his bike, he’s taking you however he wants to.
you’re pushed to your knees and within seconds his cock is shoved down your throat, a guttural groan leaving him.
“that’s what you fucking get for being such a damn brat,” he bites, but it’s breathless, your fluttering throat enough to make his knees buckle.
your watery eyes and constricting throat around his cock almost makes him cum, but he pulls out before you can get that satisfaction.
you’re then bent over the couch or his bike and he’s yanking your panties down so hard the seams rip.
he lines up and shoves inside you roughly, squeezing your hips hard enough to leave bruises.
“bratty little shit… you love pissing me off so i’ll fuck the attitude out of you, don’t you?” he pounds into you hard, giving your ass a firm smack.
won’t give up until you’ve apologized multiple times. he’ll go multiple rounds until you’re exhausted.
; tim drake
similarly to bruce, he has lots of patience. you start with your endless attitude and he simply watches you like he’s calculating your every move.
when you least expect it, he bends you over the back of his desk chair and snakes his fingers into your pants, thumbing your clit just enough to relieve the tension but not enough to make you cum.
“look at you being such a brat. think you can get away with that?” he coos in your ear, fingers teasing your entrance. you buck up into his hand and to your short-lived surprise, he sinks his long fingers into you.
you end up cumming embarrassingly fast. again. and again. and again.
tim edges you for so long, not budging once. you’d never know his arm is tired.
and then finally, he sinks his cock into you.
“say it again,” he huffs against your ear, rocking his hips up into you. “call me an asshole. say it while i’m filling you up.”
he’ll have you cumming on his cock in minutes.
; aged up! damian wayne
damian’s the most insulted, and turned on, standing there with his arms crossed, baffled you’d speak to him that way.
“tt. how dare you speak to me in such a manner.” he mutters lowly. dangerously.
your condescending tone would make his eye twitch instantly, but his pants unreasonably tight.
when you least expect it, he grips your chin, angling your eyes to meet his intense green ones.
“you will learn respect, beloved,”
you’re suddenly quiet as he lifts you with sword-calloused hands like you weigh nothing, pressing you against the wall.
you’re already so wet just from giving him attitude he doesn’t even bother prepping you. just slides right in, easily.
he spends an obscene amount of time fucking you against the wall, marking up your neck so everyone knows exactly who you belong to when he’s finished with you.
but he doesn’t finish there. he can’t just let you off after that little stunt you pulled. so he pulls you into his lap, making you ride him while he sits like a king.
“apologize, or i stop.” his naturally commanding tone keeps you babbling apologies pathetically until he’s satisfied.
you’ll end up walking funny for days afterward.
; duke thomas
duke is easily the nicest of the batboys and, therefore, the most stunned when you pull out your attitude, eyebrows nearly at his hairline.
he’s the most rational, trying to calmly explain his side of the story while you’re rolling your eyes again.
when he realizes he’s not getting through to you, his expression dims a fraction, turning into something darker. a little unfamiliar, but a welcome change on his pretty face.
“oh… you really wanna play like that right now?” his voice drops and your stomach dips, sure that your panties are soaked but now.
before you can sass him back, duke scoops you up in his hold, dropping you onto his full-size bed. he presses up against your backside, hand grasping your chin.
“keep running that pretty mouth and i’ll give you something better to do with it.”
you roll your eyes again, but duke chuckles lowly. “bratty tonight, huh? alright then.”
you don’t get a second to protest or talk shit before your panties are yanked to the side, two fingers slipping right into your soaked entrance, curling his digits just right.
“that’s it… take it. all that attitude and you’re still clenching around me like you need this.”
he fingers you until you’re whining and fluttering around his fingers, nearly cumming right when he pulls out.
before you can bitch about how empty you feel without his fingers inside you, it’s quickly replaced by his cock, cutting you off effectively.
duke fucks hard when he’s riled up.
“apologize nicely and maybe i’ll let you finish.”
unlike his adoptive family, he’s much nicer. and also a softie for you, so the moment you whimper a soft sorry, he sinks all the way to the hilt and cums inside you.
a/n : might make a pt 2 with the batgirls if yall are into that ….. lmk
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I recently saw this one post saying something about how Bucky would slot his dog tags between his teeth during sex to keep them from clanking or bothering during the moment y’know and I immediately thought of you. 😌
Would you mind writing something soul crushingly horny based on this?-
Much love. Mwah ❤️
. ୨୧ ݁ ꒰ 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍, 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 ⊹ . bucky x fem!reader. minors are prohibited from interacting.
𝔀arnings 18+ : explicit sexual content, no use of y/n, rough sex, unprotected sex, dog tag kink, biting, metal arm kink, possessiveness, dirty talk and general filth
𝓪uthor’s 𝓷ote : ughhhhh this was so yummy!!!! love me some dog tags on buckyyy
Bucky’s on top of you, all heat and coiled power, his broad frame pinning you down as he drives into you with deep, relentless thrusts. His dog tags dangle between his bare chest and yours, cool metal kissing your flushed skin with every roll of his hips, like a silent vow, a reminder of the soldier who’s finally letting himself take what he wants. They’ve been brushing against you the whole time but now they’re clinking softly, rhythmically, against the smooth vibranium of his left arm, the sound mixing with your shared breaths and the wet slap of skin on skin.
He growls low in his throat, a sound that vibrates through you.
“Fuckin’ tags,” he mutters, voice rough like gravel and smoke. His hips don’t stop though, deep deliberate rolls that drag his cock along every sensitive inch inside you, stretching you open so perfectly it makes your toes curl. You’re soaked, thighs slick with it, trembling around his waist as he pins you down with that effortless super-soldier strength.
You reach up, fingers brushing the chain at his neck. “Leave them,” you breathe, because the sound is filthy in its own way, the soft metallic music of him claiming you.
But Bucky’s eyes, stormy blue, pupils blown wide with lust darken further. He leans down, mouth brushing your ear, breath hot. “They’re distracting you from what I want you feeling.”
In one smooth motion, he catches the tags between his teeth. The chain pulls taut against the back of his neck, the metal plates disappearing into his mouth. His jaw flexes, lips parting just enough for you to see the silver edge glinting against his tongue. The sight alone rips a fresh wave of heat through you, Bucky, the Winter Soldier, reduced to biting down on his own history just so he can fuck you without anything getting in the way.
He groans around the tags, the sound muffled and raw. Then he drives into you harder.
No more clinking. Just the wet slap of skin on skin, the creak of the bedframe, and the obscene sounds of your body taking him. His metal fingers dig into your hip, cool and unyielding, while his flesh hand slides up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing at the corner of your mouth like he wants to feel how wrecked you are.
“Look at me,” he demands around the metal. His voice is distorted, rougher, sex-drenched. Sweat beads at his temple, dark hair falling into his eyes as he fucks you with punishing precision, long strokes that bottom out and grind against that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. Every time he bottoms out, his abs flex against your clit, and the tags shift between his teeth with the motion, a constant, visible reminder of how much control he’s exerting just for you.
You moan his name and he bites down harder, jaw tight, eyes locked on yours like he’s memorizing every gasp, every flutter of your cunt around his cock. The chain trembles against his throat with each thrust. You can see the way his tongue moves against the tags inside his mouth, the way his lips are shiny with spit, and it’s so fucking filthy you clench around him involuntarily.
“That’s it,” he growls through clenched teeth, the words barely intelligible but vibrating straight down to your core. “Milk me, doll. Let me feel how much you love this.”
Your hands scramble up his back, nails digging into scarred skin and metal plating alike. He’s relentless, hips snapping faster now, the wet sounds louder, your slick coating his balls as they slap against you. The dog tags stay right where he put them, trapped between those perfect teeth, catching the light every time he pulls back to look at where you’re stretched around him.
You’re close. So fucking close. And Bucky knows it, he always does. He drops his forehead to yours, tags still clenched tight, breath coming in hot pants around the metal. His voice is a broken rasp:
“Come on my cock while I’ve got these between my teeth, baby. Want to feel you fall apart knowing I’d do anything- anything- to keep fucking you right.”
The orgasm slams into you like lightning under your skin, sudden, devastating, unstoppable. Your back arches sharply off the mattress, a broken cry tearing from your throat as your pussy clamps down hard around his thick cock, fluttering and pulsing in relentless waves. Pleasure rips through every nerve ending, white-hot and overwhelming, leaving you shaking uncontrollably beneath him.
Bucky doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even falter. He keeps fucking you through it with those deep, grinding thrusts, hips rolling relentlessly as he chases his own release, dragging out your climax until you’re a whimpering, sobbing mess beneath him.
Only then does he let the tags fall from his mouth, spit-slick and gleaming, dropping heavy and cool against your heaving chest. He buries his face in your neck, groaning your name like a prayer as he spills deep inside you, hips stuttering, metal arm braced beside your head so he doesn’t crush you.
For a long moment, there’s just the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint, final clink of the dog tags settling between your sweat-slick bodies.
Bucky kisses the side of your throat, soft and reverent now, his lips brushing tenderly over the spot where his teeth had been clenched moments before.
“Next time,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, “I’m putting them between your teeth. See how quiet you can stay while I ruin you.”
Summary: Your father sends Bucky to bring you home.
Word Count: 300
Playlist Prompt: Say Something - A Great Big World & Christina Aguilera / “It was over my head”
Warnings: Mention of arranged marriage (not to Bucky), mob AU, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Day 17 of the June Jukebox Scribbles Challenge by @societynsoelsscribbles . ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications as I no longer do taglists. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
You didn’t even make far when Bucky Barnes found you.
Of course, your father sent his best enforcers to track you down. He probably thought it would soften the blow since it was Bucky. You trusted him most of all out of his men.
Bucky looked almost bored leaning against his car, his hair blowing in the light breeze. You liked the leather jacket on him. You half expected him to show up on his bike, but that wouldn’t be practical if you tried to fight.
He’d win anyway.
“I’m not going back,” you told him, your eyes as defiant as your tone.
He sighed, but he made no move to grab you yet. “You shouldn’t have run.”
“And my dad shouldn’t try to force a marriage on me, but here we are,” you snapped.
You stupidly thought Bucky would speak up for you when your dad said the alliance with a total stranger would strengthen the families. It was a foolish thought. You weren’t together.
But you hoped…
And I am feeling so small
It was over my head
I know nothing at all
You backed up when Bucky suddenly moved toward you in purposeful strides. There was violence in his eyes. But he would never hurt you.
“And you should’ve trusted me to handle it,” he said through his teeth.
Your heart pounded. Bucky hardly ever let his emotions show. That was a reason why your dad liked him. He was lethal. Efficient.
Cold.
Not like this.
“I-”
He gripped your chin tenderly. “Do you really think I’ll sit back while you marry someone else?”
Your eyes widened.
Did… Bucky want you?
“Get in the car,” he ordered gently. “And trust me.”
You didn’t want to go back.
But you had to trust that Bucky had a plan.
He has to have a plan, right? Love and thanks for reading. ❤️
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 (MINORS DNI) BUCKY BARNES doesn’t use his metal hand during sex with you… unless he’s jealous.
he knows you can handle his metal arm, you love it so much that he knows you would love it if he used it during sex— but he never does. he never uses it because he doesn’t want to risk anything. he’s been told nothing will happen, maybe be gentle but he never pushes it…
until bucky sees your pretty little self flirting with some other dude at the bar you two were visiting— he didn’t even know if you were flirting, but you were smiling hard enough and the other dude was looking at you too flirty for him to handle. he doesn’t make a scene in public, only wrapping his arm around you… but at home, he breaks.
your legs were spread out on the bed as your forearms kept you up; watching as bucky spit on your cunt.
“you wanna flirt with him, mhm?” he challenges, leaning in and presses kisses to the inside of your thigh— his right (non metal) hand rubbing up and down your sobbing folds. “so wet f’me but so fucking happy to be around him.”
you whimper at feeling his hand, legs shaking as his body kept them open. “buck— buck— i-i wasn’t flirting with him… just k’keeping conversation— oh!” your words get cut off when he presses two of his normal fingers into you— not completely, but just the tips, just to tease you.
he frowns, leaning in again and finally pressing a kiss on your cunt. “i know you weren’t flirting and that makes it worse; your poor pretty self being flirted with because men can’t handle themselves…” he whispers, licking a strip in between your folds while at the same time, his fingers don’t go any further, in fact they retract, his right hand implanting on the bed right by your forearms.
moans fill the bedroom as he licks up and down, bringing his left hand up as you moan for him. “b-bucky! oh fuck!”
bucky looks up at you as he puts the metal hand close to your cunt— and you can immediately feel the difference in coldness at the sensation— it makes your eyes snap open and look down at him. fuck. no he wasn’t. “let’s see if this pussy can handle my other hand…” he whisper.
you shudder as your right hand reaches down into his short hair, watching with both anticipation and nervousness— it’s just fingers… just a pair of metal fingers. “buck— baby, i-i don’t think i can handle it.” you try to say but the moans of him licking your cunt again break it up again.
he frowns in between your thighs, glee in his eyes that only comforts you. “oh but baby, you always tell me you want ‘em… always asking me to use them… so why not? since this pussy needs a reminder on who she belongs to.”
oh fuck him. your mind internally tells itself. you try to not encourage it... but your pussy flutters at just the right time as he lines up the first finger— his middle, with your folds, feeling your slickness against the cold grey metal of his finger.
he looks up at you as he presses another kiss to your clit. "i'll go gentle, promise, sweetheart." he says; a tonal difference from how he was just speaking— even when this dickhead is jealous, he still is checking to make sure.
you nod your head in understanding, threading your fingers through his brown hair as you begin to feel his slow metal finger insert inside of you. instantly; your body feels the coldness. his arm always ran cold for some reason, he never felt it but everyone who has touched the outside has always said it was cold as fuck... and you fucking shiver the moment his finger presses into you, each inch of his finger disappering into your cunt.
"there you go... good girl, good fucking girl taking my finger... taking it like a champ." he moans, watching with almost awe as your pussy sucks his finger right in.
"it's- it's 'o-so cold, buck." you moan, throwing your head back as your fingers can't help but tug on his hair in response, your other hand grabbing his right forearm.
he chuckles, licking your cunt again, from his finger to the top and back down, moaning at the taste of you. "don't worry baby, it will warm up in this pretty pussy... now, let's see if this girl can handle more than just one."
masterlist is here! click here for more!
ⓘ KENTLUV3R’S WORK. all my fanfics (not the characters) is my very own, coming from my own efforts and my time. do not copy my work, rewrite it, shove it through an ai machine and shit out slop, and don’t repost to wattpad/ao3/c.ai!
pairing(s): baelor “breakspear” targaryen x wife!reader
summary: You wear Baelor's shirt to bed. He is very normal about it.
words: 2.4k
cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, fingering, somnophilia, (mild), prone bone, headlock, biting, possessive behavior, reader called 'girl’, yearning, this is quite simply just baelor jumping our bones, i love arm, mildly edited, not beta read
a/n: this is not officially a sequel to my other baelor fic but it can be read like that since i characterized him the same. i rly just want that old man to fuck me in his shirt idk
ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI. I BLOCK AGELESS BLOGS.
Baelor has been standing at the foot of your bed for… much longer than he intended to. There's a tilt to his head, seventy-six degrees and counting, and a rise and fall to his chest that seems to be getting slightly faster with each passing exhale.
You do not see it. You are, as it is, asleep.
You're wearing his shirt. This is what has him still as stone, drawing his eyes over you in slow drags that he just can't seem to put an end to.
It's not an elaborate shirt. It's not even one of his best ones— the royal seamstresses have laden him with shirts of silk and fine woven cotton, embellished with hours of needlework or, in some horrifying cases, even beading. He has shirts of every color and shade, shirts of damask and velvet, shirts for summer and shirts for winter. Tunics from Dorne. Doublets from the Reach. Myrish robes. Qartheen samite vests.
You have chosen none of those. The one you have chosen is as simple a garment as he would choose on any given day, to wear against his skin beneath his doublet. White linen gauze, unembellished, unadorned. Its sleeves almost as billowing as its body, coming to plain rectangular cuffs. A simple collar, a sturdy yoke across the shoulders, double-stitched to keep it from unraveling. It is, in a word, efficient. Standard.
He knows, without having to ask you, that you chose to wear this shirt specifically because it is standard. Because it is one that he wears often. The cuffs have gone slightly soft with the wear, the neckline just a bit stretched along the bias. The felled seams are coming undone just a touch at the hem, a fact that he always sees but hasn't brought to the attention of his attendant, because it would mean a week of waiting to have it repaired. It is unfussy. But it is his.
And you are curled up in it like a kitten, asleep in his bed, your leg thrown over a pillow that you had moved toward his side of the bed in his absence. He has spent too long at his work, he knows. You spent too long waiting for him— long enough that you removed your nightgown and donned one of his shirts, and you fell asleep like that. Alone. In the bed you are meant to share with him.
Baelor feels a tightness in his chest that is ringed with fondness, an aching longing for you that hadn't stopped after your wedding, and doesn't seem like it will any time soon. He is too taken with you, too in love and consumed by it for that intrinsic sense of need for you to fade. It is a tender thing, tied around his heart in an intricate knot, with a tail that you hold the end of. You twirl it around your little finger and he buckles like a man who has never seen combat, who doesn't know what it is to stand his ground.
Baelor sighs as he undresses, but he keeps one eye on you all the while, as though you may disappear if he moves too far away. But you don't move. You don't even stir, when his belt hits the stone floor, or when his breeches follow. You are caught up in a world of dreams, unaware of what the sight of your sleeping form is doing to your husband, bringing him to the brink of something he has never quite been able to put a name to.
You do not stir when his hand presses into the mattress.
You do not stir when his weight dips the bedding and he moves slowly, purposefully, over you.
You do, however, stir just the smallest bit when his fingers dance over the curve of your hip through the fabric, feeling its drape over the soft plush of your skin. The meat of your ass, the swell of your thigh. Baelor feels, smoothing and caressing with a languid stroke that is not intended to rouse you, although he knows very well that it might and he does it anyway. Your fingers flex on the pillow that you clutch instead of him.
He finds himself, at that moment, inordinately envious of a pillow. A lump of fabric and feathers in your hands, between your thighs.
His hand grows bolder, a broad stroke over the small of your back, into the dip of your waist. You make a small noise in your throat, twitching the slightest bit as he passes over a particularly sensitive area.
"Shh, my sweet girl," Baelor whispers quietly, a lulling murmur in the darkness. Everything about you is soft— your skin, the fabric of his shirt as it lays over you, your hair, the expression on your face, the candle light on your sleeping body. It overwhelms him. It turns him into something that he's not normally, unless he is with you: a man. Not a Prince, and not the Hand of the King or heir to the throne. Not a warrior and not a subject of songs and poetry, myths and stories. With you, in this bed, he is simply a man in love with his wife, devoted beyond measure.
By the time his hand reaches your nape, your eyes are fluttering open the barest amount. Your face is still pressed slightly into the pillow, but you shift, a perking of your head as awareness returns to you. "Baelor?"
"It's me," he tells you, his voice low enough to not even constitute words.
"Mm. Waited for you," you mumble, confirming what he already knew.
His eyes crease at the corners, his smile overly tender. "I know. I'm here now."
Even as he says it, his hand is finding the hem of his shirt draped over your thigh, its frayed edge tickling against the smoothness of your skin. You hum quietly, dropping your eyelids against the feeling of his warm hand, burrowing between pillow and fabric and skin to find you, bare and wet and waiting for him.
"Oh," you sigh when his fingertip draws a slow circle around your clit.
"I know," he reassures you again, pressing a chaste, sweet kiss to the back of your neck. "I know, my love."
You turn your head further into the pillow beneath you, letting out a small whine at the feeling, your hips arching into his touch. He responds in kind, laying his weight flush to your back, his hand pinned between you and the pillow below.
"You're wearing my shirt," he remarks, his fingers finding your entrance and sliding in, stretching you open quick enough to make you keen softly. He gives you a few shallow strokes, feeling you grind back into the press of his cock against your tailbone. "My beautiful wife, wearing my clothes."
"W-Wanted to— to feel you— mm." Your voice is still slightly slurred with sleep, the heat of his body and the slowness of his movements doing nothing to rouse you more. You are still somewhere between awake and dreaming, pleasantly lulled, drowsy in your responses to him. Still, you moan at the curving of his fingers. "Wanted you… close to me…"
"Then let me be close," Baelor whispers, dragging the wilting fabric of his shirt up over your hips. He puffs a sigh through his nose, the ghost of it breezing against your neck. "What am I to do with you, hm?"
You make a pathetic noise when he moves your thighs apart to fit himself between them, his chest pressed to the curve of your spine, the thin fabric of his shirt separating you. He kisses you beneath the ear.
"You can sleep, darling," he tells you quietly, a whisper into your ear as his cock settles heavy between your thighs, the head sliding hotly against your cunt. Even though his voice is low, it booms through you like a thunderclap. "You need rest."
"I need you," you retort, but your own voice is far off, dipping towards the fogginess of sleep already.
Your eyes flutter shut, a gentle sigh of relief leaving you when he enters you slowly, stretching you open around him. Pressure on your back, pressure between your legs, pressure where his hand is pinned and lifting your hips from the front, angling them back towards him. Baelor's arm comes up to brace beside your head, and the scent of him surrounds you— the same scent that always drives you crazy, juniper and peppercorn, and something slightly like the salt of a raging sea.
You breathe in deep, exhale on a contented, fulfilled hum. Your entire world is Baelor, your mind and body consumed by him completely. His body spanning the length of you, bone to bone, naked skin to thin, ineffectual fabric.
You clench around him, and Baelor makes a noise as though you've punched him. So close to your ear, the headiness of it is echoed tenfold. Then he shifts his weight, dropping his hips ever-so-slightly, and then just grinds into you. His cock nestles into the deepest part of you and you groan, your mouth dropping open and face turning towards the breadth of his arm beside you.
"Baelor," you whimper, soft and broken, slurred from the recesses of sleep. Your hand finds his bicep, drawn taut from the muscle holding him up, keeping him from crushing you completely. Your fingers dig in, pull. A silent plea, a command that he follows like a dog on a leash.
Baelor fits his forearm under your head and lifts, letting you rest your chin there against the crook of his elbow, getting you into a loose headlock. Your hand wraps loosely around his upper arm, your body lax, letting him rut his hips shallowly into yours.
"My beautiful girl," he breathes into your ear, and you feel his teeth, bared with intent. His nose pressed to the shell, his beard scraping rough against your cheek. "My heart. My soul."
His arm tightens. Just a tad, but just enough. You mewl like a wounded animal, stretching your limbs so that he can move closer in, can fit his mouth to the curve of your throat, while he throbs somewhere deep in you that makes your head spin and your breath stick in your chest. His weight on you turns full, crushing, an all-over press that pins you flat to the bed, the pillow tucked beneath your stomach.
You are no longer asleep.
"Say it," he tells you, a primal rasp to his voice that wasn't there before. Low, smoky. A dragon. It's dragged from the pit of him, from some hell that lurks deep inside his body. His groan slinks down your spine and pools as raw energy right above where his cock hollows out and reaches the end of you. "Say that you're mine."
"M'yours," you murmur into his arm, breathing in the hot air that radiates from him. "Baelor. M-My heart. My soul—"
A guttural sound leaves you, your open mouth muffled by the bite you take of his bicep when he pulls his hips back and ruts into you hard, hard enough to shake the bed. Baelor's breath in your ear is shaky, stilted with the desperation of his movements, the purpose for which he collects himself.
"Gods above," he groans, his face turned into your neck just as yours is turned into his arm. With great effort, he loosens his hold on you. He presses an apologetic kiss to the curve of your shoulder. "I'm sorry. So sorry, my love."
You make a short noise, shake your head once. "Do it again."
Baelor does as you tell him. He pulls back slowly, letting his cock drag through your walls just before rushing back in with a jolt up the bed. Soft hair grinds against the plush of your ass, his mouth open and heaving with gasps against your shoulder, covered in the fabric of his shirt.
You can taste his need in the salt on his skin, beads of sweat forming in the crook of his elbow, fiery heat pressed flush to your back. "I need to— to wear your clothes more often."
"Yes." The word is hungry. It leaves no room for defiance. "You will."
The hand pinned between you and the pillow moves, snakes down to find your clit again. You are blinded with white light behind your eyelids, your breath gone still in your chest. Then, you pant like your air has no place to go, your hand tightening on his bicep, his arm tightening around your throat.
"Mm. There." The sound of his voice in your ear, while he fingers at your clit and his cock makes you so full that you can barely think, undoes you. Tremors take over your body, and you feel him smile as he continues to work at you. "That's what you get. I want you shaking."
"Baelor." You cum around him, with his full weight holding you down with nowhere to go. You are held hostage to it, to the slow, seductive movements of his hips, the lazy strokes of his finger against your clit.
"That's it. My good girl," Baelor purrs into your ear, and you sob as you clench around him. "My good, sweet, beautiful—"
He runs his tongue lightly across the nape of your neck and groans, ducking his head as he cums. His moans are muffled by his shirt on your back, his body curled over yours like fog. He presses his hips hard against yours, as though he can become a part of you if he gets close enough, deep enough.
"Oh, my love." His whisper falls upon your ears like a dream, like you may wake up and not remember it. But he's real, and he's there on top of you with his heart pounding against your back, and his fist in the fabric of his shirt, the one that started all of this.
He stays there for a breath, and then two. His hips are still flush to yours, but he's stopped moving, stopped the slow grind and the desperate, cloying attempt to get as far inside of you as he possibly could. He simply holds there, with his arm still around your throat, but not pressing in anymore. Just holding. Just cradling.
"I don't know if you noticed," Baelor says after a moment, his voice tremulous and padded by a wad of fabric between his teeth, at the nape of your neck. He releases it. "But I quite like it when you wear my clothes."
You huff a laugh, and press a kiss to the inside of his elbow. "If you do that every time, I may never get any sleep."
Baelor hums. "The chances are very slim, indeed."
Even so, you wear the same shirt the next night. And the one after that.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
who in marvel & dc do you think are giving u the silent treatment after u shave ur bush off? 😁
I received something similar a hot second ago but I always enjoy getting asks like these hehe
dc:
guy gardner is in abject misery and hatred when he finds out that you’ve shaved off your bush. Glares at you with a pouting grief before his eyes wander down to your nether regions, he remembers—and woe is him all over again
harvey dent is just absolutely shutting down when he sees what you’ve done, and how you’ve taken away what he so dearly loved—he’ll be surly and miserable until it comes back lol
Bruce Wayne for all of his posh upbringing goes feral over a bush—when he’s found out you’ve done the unthinkable he’ll be stewing in the batcave looking over certain pictures and films that’s he’s uh….collected, remembering old times
Diana Prince simply can’t understand what you’ve done. My beloved, we wear ourselves with pride—why harm that what Zeus has crafted out of the flotsam when it is so beautiful? She’ll be devastated
marvel:
Bucky Barnes is from an older age where they didn’t do that kind of stuff. He likes a healthy bush and when he finds out what you’ve done he can’t understand—he’s just frowning and sitting in a discontented heap of limbs on the corner of the couch, muttering under his breath.
Remy LeBeau loves a bush and you can’t tell me ANYTHING otherwise. He loves to give you praise when he goes down on you, so when he sees that you’ve done this—oh, it’s over. He’s growling French under his breath as he wonders what could have possessed you to do such a terrible thing
Scott Summers LOVE BUSH!!!!!!!!! I SAID IT!!! When he sees it’s gone he’s absolutely depressed, and will become even more regretful and broody than he is before. Man will not survive
Victor Creed is disdainful that you shaved it off. Just sees what you’ve done and stalks from the room with a dismissive grunt—but he’ll be giving you the silent treatment for sure. You’ll have to charm your way back into his good graces without a doubt.
-> smut/nsfw, afab! reader (has a pussy, no pronouns used), brat! reader + brat tamer! scott, mating press + overstim
Scott loves fucking the attitude out of you.
The minute you get just a little too bratty he gets this sort of smirk on his face that tells you just one thing: you fucked up.
Next thing you know, you’re pinned beneath him in a mating press with his cock stuffed deep inside of you. He has his thumb in your mouth, your lips wrapped around it while he bites at your neck.
“Shh, quit being so loud.” He teases, “this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
You mumble something incoherent around his finger, spit threatening to leak from the corners of your mouth. He pops his thumb up, replacing it with his mouth, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.
The pace he’s set is deep and brutal, every thrust has him bottoming out inside of you and stretching you so perfectly. You whine and clench up around him and still Scott keeps going.
“It’s too much,” you whine out.
Scott only grins wickedly, snapping his hips harshly into yours. “Where’d all that attitude go now, hm?”
marvel masterlist | navigation
thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡
I’m not sure if anyone has asked this, but who from marvel and dc are most likely to teach you how to fight for/defend yourself? And what are they teaching you?
hmmmmmm.....hmmmmmmmmmmmm
dc:
Bruce Wayne appreciates the fact that you want to take the initiative to make sure that you're well-defended in the moments that he can't be present to look out for you. He'll teach you basic hand-to-hand combat first before you start building your way up to other things, but the interesting thing is this—as you continue to fight with him, you can't help but notice how things get more....charged......heated.......tense as you keep fighting.
Dick Grayson wants to make sure that you build up core training first. He wants to make sure that you have the physical strength and limberness to be able to roll with the punches. He'll start you out with acrobatic feints and maneuvers—but you can't help but notice how he holds on for too long. How his touch seems to burn as he helps you out. How his eyes continue to linger on you the longer you want—and how you don't want him to let go.
Roy Harper is doing the best he can to make sure that you have speed and accuracy with throwing items; knives, kunai, projectiles—and arrows. He'll stand behind you and hold your grip steady, the heat of his body roiling off onto yours. The breath that he exhales sloughing over your shoulder, his scent masculine and encroaching. Your heart beats faster and you swear that you can hear his with his close you are. You just want him to touch you......
Diana Prince goes straight to swords. The two of you start slow but then when you become good, you are poignantly aware of something interesting—that you enjoy the thrill of battle. That you enjoy the exchange of blades. But you enjoy the way she pins you down on the ground when she's bested you, when she's levied you against a wall by her bare hands—and you want her to do the same to you in other situations....all that's left is for you to articulate the need....
marvel:
Frank Castle is eager for the chance to make sure that you're prepared; he wouldn't ever want you to be caught unawares. He educates you on every gun, every weapon at his disposal: but there's something....odd about your training. When you reload weapons, when you polish blades, when you take care of cleaning and prep—he seems to breathe harder as he watches you. His eyes track every movement: he licks his lips. Almost as if he's hungry for something else......
Steve Rogers doesn't mind teaching you a few boxing moves. But the thing is; he's too much of a gentleman. And he's too much of a boy scout to be able to put the moves on you; every time he touches a sensitive part of you, a part that is meant for more than pressing in defense, he blushes wildly. You'll have to convince him to do more with you outside the ring if you want to get anywhere with him......
Scott Summers can't help but leap at the absolute chance to be able to work on training with you. He's sure to help teach you ways to engage in hand-to-hand combat, but also ways that you can make sure to take care of the business. But the noises he makes when you touch him to grapple—the groans as he takes you down, the way that his body presses against you when you fight—you want more than just the trial of combat with him...
Natasha Romanoff is delighted to be able to help you out with combat and to give you the opportunity for you to grow stronger. But the thing is: she's not exactly going easy on you. And when she takes control of your body with her parries, and throws, and flips: something in you twists internally, lighting a fire under your skin. You'll have to see if she's interested in more....
that's what i got.....................adios...........................
pls do Scott Summers babe i know you'll do my man justice 🫶
Scott Summers Headcannons (SFW and NSFW 18+)
Tek i love you <3 ty for letting me feed my own delusions about our man
no matter how long you’ve been dating Scott, he will always be a nervous wreck around you. flustered beyond belief the moment he locks eyes with you across the table during mission debriefs, stumbling over his words as he tries to get the details of the upcoming mission to leave his mouth. Logan would roll his eyes and grumble something about “slim just sit down” and complain about why they let him be in charge for the nth time that morning.
he is always asking you what color his shirt is and if his outfit matches. He tried to stick to neutral tones as those were easy to tell apart with his ruby tinted vision, but once Jubilee called him a “sad beige millienial” he had to branch out from neutrals and his x-men uniform. he trusted you the most to pick him out the colorful waredrobe that would save him from being victim to Jubilee’s own brand of fashion which he saw as the end of the world.
Scott Summers loves it when you get bratty/angry with him, when you take over and take the lead from him. Especially after a tense mission when you two have done nothing but bicker since you two stepped back into the mansion after the silent jet ride back. You storm off to your shared room, Scott right behind you as he attempts to talk to you. The second you step into the bedroom you whirl around and shove your finger in Scott’s face, yelling about how disastrous the mission went due to his piss poor planning. He looks down at you with astonishment, he’d never seen you like this, and if he was being honest, it turned him on. He’d try to inconspicuously adjust himself so you wouldn’t notice the growing buldge in his pants, but when you caught him it seems to piss you off even more. you’d yell, “Are you really fucking turned on right now Scott!?” and he’d just flush and bite the inside of his cheek before nodding.
Scott is the king of morning sex I do not care what anyone else says. despite him being a infamous insomniac and early bird, he is always ready for a round or two before breakfast, and maybe another after morning training is done. He promised you he’d count it towards your training hours for the week because it technically was a workout. As long as you didn’t tell Hank why your stamnia suddenly improved it was a win-win situation.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
#drabble.ᐟ ⸝⸝ mean!dick grayson ⸝⸝ condescension ⸝⸝ p in v ⸝⸝ teasing&taunting ⸝⸝ mocking ⸝⸝ MDNI !
───〃★ dc masterlist ! ╱ heavily inspired by @honeysucklewatr ‘s drabble.
the sound of the safe house door clicking shut was all you needed to know you were fucked—literally. it had been a long night of you giving dick shit all throughout patrol and he was just about done with it. dick had you pinned against the wall in seconds, nightwing suit still on, that little smirk playing on his lips.
“you’ve been a real pain in the ass tonight,” he murmured, voice low and warm but dripping with that sexy amusement. “rubbing up against me on every rooftop, whispering how badly you needed my cock while i was trying to focus. thought you were so funny, huh?”
you grinned up at him, breathless. looking every part the woman that drove him mad during patrol earlier. you just loved working him up. “maybe i just like seeing you worked up, grayson.”
dick laughed softly, the sound low but riddled with want—no—need. he peeled your suit off with impatient hands until you were half-bare—panties bunched at your ankles along with your pants—he didn’t have the patience for properly stripping you tonight. then spun you around and bent you over the small table, foot kicking your legs apart.
“oh, i’m worked up alright.” he pulled his suit just low enough for his hard-on to spring out. he tapped the thick head of his cock against your soaked cunt, smacking it lightly against your swollen clit over and over until your hips jerked. “listen to how wet you are. pathetic, baby. you were so cocky earlier—now look at you, dripping down your thighs before i’ve even fucked you properly.”
he pushed in with one hard thrust, bottoming out deep and making you gasp sharply. you tried to shift forward, overwhelmed by the sudden stretch, but his hands gripped your hips roughly and yanked you back so that you were pressed right up against him. the material of his suit scraping against your back.
“nuh-uh. where do you think you’re going?” he chuckled, pulling you onto his cock again with a filthy slap of skin. “you begged for this all night. now you’re gonna take it.”
he started fucking you in deep, heavy strokes, hips snapping forward hard enough to make the table creak. every thrust punched the air out of your lungs. when you moaned too loudly he reached around and gave your cheek a light, playful tap with his palm—more of a patronizing pat than a anything close to a slap.
“poor baby,” he cooed, voice condescendingly sweet. “you can give me another one of those pretty sounds, can’t you? or are you already falling apart?”
“dick—fuck—slow down—”
he laughed again, the sound low and mocking and so hot it sent jolts straight to your cunt while he drilled into your pussy even harder, one hand traveling down your stomach and sliding between your legs to rub tight, mean circles on your clit. “slow down? but you were so needy before, hmm? ‘dick, i’m so wet just watching you’—remember that?” he mimicked your earlier teasing with a smirk you could almost hear. “take what you begged for, baby. that’s it… right there? god, you’re so precious when you’re crying for my cock.”
tears pricked at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. dick noticed immediately. he leaned over you, still pounding deep, and kissed the corner of your eye, tasting the salt with a satisfied groan.
“aww, look at you tearing up already,” he teased, his voice was voice husky and affectionate even as he mocked you like you were some slut. “such a whiny thing. can’t even handle how good i’m fucking you? poor girl.”
he pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your back on the table and hooking your legs over his shoulders. he slapped his cock against your clit again rubbing it back and forth and watching your face, teasing the sensitive bundle until you whimpered and tried to close your legs. but he didn’t let you—strong hands spreading you wide as he pushed back in, fucking you deeper in this new angle.
“dick—too much—”
“too much is it?” he pouted and cooed, eyes sparkling with wicked delight as he repeated the same devastating thrust over and over. “you were practically humping my thigh on patrol. now you’re crying? make up your mind, princess.” he moaned loud and shameless right along with you, mirroring your desperate sounds to amplify them. “fuck, listen to yourself. so pretty when you’re ruined under me like this.”
his fingers found your clit again, rubbing fast and firm, never letting up even when you clawed at his arms with your nails digging into the fabric of his suit. he fucked you through another orgasm, grinning with all the pride he had in him when you shattered around him with a broken cry.
“that’s my pretty girl,” he praised, voice softening just a fraction as he kept moving, chasing his own release. “giving me everything i want. come on—clench around me like that. you can hold on till i cum too, yeah?”
when he finally reached his peak, buried deep and groaning your name, he stayed inside you for a few seconds, breathing hard like he didn’t just fuck the daylights out of you. then he pulled out gently and with a groan. he scooped you up over his shoulder like you weighed nothing (which to a guy like him, that’s not far from the truth) and carried you to the small bed in the corner.
he gently dropped you onto the bed and collapsed beside you with a sigh. he tugged you into his chest, arms wrapping around you tight. his fingers stroked through your hair as you both caught your breath, the condescension from earlier melting into something that’s softer now.
“you okay?” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “i wasn’t too mean, was i?”
you shook your head, still trembling a little against him from the force of your orgasm. dick chuckled quietly, the sound more fond now, and tugged you even closer, one leg tangled with yours.
“good. because look at you,” he teased, all playful and loving as he sweat-soaked hair from your flushed face. “all teary-eyed and fucked out after acting like such a big tease on patrol. bratty girl turning into a sobbing mess the second i get my hands on her. adorable.”
you huffed against his chest, cheeks burning. “shut up, grayson.”
dick grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief as he pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “aww, don’t pout. you love it when i call you out. ‘dick please, dick it’s too much’—” he mimicked your broken moans from earlier in an exaggeratedly sweet voice, laughing softly when you swatted his chest. “what? it’s true. you were so confident whispering all that dirty shit in my ear, and now you can barely speak.“
“i said shut up,” you muttered, half-laughing as you hid your face against his neck.
his tone stayed light and affectionate, fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “fine,” he sighed as he nuzzled into your hair, voice dropping softer. “i better not wake up to an empty bed.”
you were lounged back against the pillows in dick’s oversized t-shirt, legs stretched out, completely absorbed in your book. fingers flipped through the pages with the occasional rustle while your boyfriend was out.
dick slipped in after patrol, still in his nightwing suit. he crawled onto the bed and settled between your legs, resting his head on your chest with a soft sigh. this was practically routine now. dick was obsessed with your tits—needed them after every patrol like they were what he came home for (which… they are.)
“baby… can i…?” he asked, voice low and warm and so sweet, that easy charm threaded with pure need. when you made a small noise that indicated permission, dick tugged the shirt up gently and latched onto one nipple.
his mouth was hot, his motions eager—lips sealing tight around the stiff peak as he sucked with slow, rhythmic pulls that made your breast ache oh so sweetly and sent heated jolts straight to your cunt. his tongue swirled and flicked relentlessly around the sensitive bud that had pebbled immediately under his tongue, then flattened to nurse harder, drawing your nipple deep into his mouth with wet, obscene slurps. cheeks hollowing, he moaned softly against your flesh, the vibrations buzzing through your tit while saliva dripped down the curve of your breast.
he ground his hips against your thigh like a desperate puppy, his thick cock rock-hard and straining through the thin suit fabric. the leaking head left a growing wet spot as he humped slow and insistent, rubbing his throbbing cock along your legs in needy strokes. the friction the suit provided was delicious—but nowhere near what it would feel like to thrust into those pretty tits.
“mm… baby,” he mumbled around your tit, switching sides effortlessly, latching onto the other nipple and sucking deeper, tongue lapping messily at the slick, spit-covered skin. “missed this. fuck… you’re so soft and warm.”
you slid one hand into his dark hair, holding him close but kept your eyes on the book. he couldn’t help but wonder what was so good about words that made you so distracted. “wait a sec, dick. i’m in the middle of this chapter.”
he groaned, the sound buzzing through your breast as he sucked harder, pulling your nipple taut between his lips before soothing it with hungry laps, spit trailing down your tits as he sucked like he couldn’t get enough—which is true. his hips rocked faster, cock sliding hot and slick with pre-cum against your thigh, dragging the swollen head in filthy up down motions. “c’mon… just look at me? i’m being good here.” his tone stayed playful, that signature wit light even in the plea. “feels good, right? tell me. please.”
you turned another page, fingers stroking his hair absently. he groaned, hips twitching. “you’re doing fine, baby. give me a minute.”
“okay… fine. i can wait,” he breathed, still nursing with greedy pulls that left your nipples swollen and glistening with his saliva, grinding harder now so his aching cock dragged along your leg with slick, filthy friction. “but god, these beauties… been thinking about them all night. don’t ignore me too long.”
after a few more minutes of his devoted sucking and puppy-like humping, you sighed, slotted your bookmark in and closed the book with a snap, setting it aside. you tugged his hair gently so he met your eyes, a teasing smile on your lips.
“aww, look at my needy dick,” you murmured, guiding his mouth back down while you laid back fully so you weren’t resting your back against the headboard anymore. which meant he could grind better now. “begging so sweetly while humping my leg like a puppy. can’t get enough, huh?”
dick pulled off with a wet pop, lips shiny and swollen, biting his lower lip up at you with that bright, boyish spark. “guilty. you bring out the best in me… or the neediest.” he chuckled softly. “you gonna tease me or finally give me all your attention?”
you laughed, arching your back to press your glistening tits closer. “go on then. keep going. make it good and i’ll take care of that aching cock next. you’ve earned it.”
he groaned happily and latched on again with fresh hunger, sucking deeper and sloppier while his hips kept grinding, cock pulsing hot and heavy against your cunt now that he’s got you under him properly. you held him close with both hands in his hair, finally giving him the full attention he craved.
baratheonpilled
stormborns
jacobvanloon
yousharknotpass
2087
