Urfavefelon - Shitty Works Only☺️

Me and all my sisters

IMPANICING

hot on your lips

wednesday addams x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: her hands are on your shoulders, and the next thing you know, your back is pressed to the bed, and tara’s rocking her weight on top of you. she leans in close, breath as soft as her skin against your lips, breathing out a quiet ‘yes.’ wc: 3.0k tags: explicit, minors DNI!! no-ghostface au bc i didn’t feel like fitting it in. bad dirty talk, top!reader and bottom!tara, needy!tara, D/s dynamics, reader is a little tiny bit of a sadist (as a treat,) sex on camera, exhibitionism and voyeurism, mild restraint, mild degradation, horribly excessive use of italics a/n: am I back?? idk how i feel about this. thank you to @evilwednesday for helping me out w the cover image & the title :)

Tara’s in your arms before her bag even hits the floor.

You’re so, so glad the hallway is empty as she nearly bowls you over in the doorway of your shared apartment, peppering your face with kisses. You lift her up and give her a spin, pressing your lips to hers—it’s pure comfort, after so many long months of Tara’s school semester. Long distance was a real bitch sometimes, but Tara reminded you every day of how it was all worth it. In fact, you’d felt as if what you had with her was made more real by the distance so often between you. But now, she’s in your arms, finally, and you nudge her suitcase inside with your foot, bending to grab the backpack she’d discarded.

Pulling back, she speaks, so soft and shy it nearly makes your heart burst. “Hi.”

“Tara,” you breathe, “I thought—I wasn’t supposed to go pick you up from ORD until—”

“There was a change of plans,” she interrupts, palms on your cheeks to pull you into a bruising kiss. You feel yourself practically melt into her, like a docile dog in a firm hand. You set her bag down, just managing to not drop it. “I took an earlier flight-” her lips are on yours again- “Couldn’t wait.”

“Couldn’t wait… for what?”

“This.” She slips her tongue into your mouth, all hot and velvet on your teeth. God, the way it felt to miss her was addictive, but this was a million times better. Grabbing blindly, you miss the door handle a few times as you’re distracted by her soft lips, finally managing to slam the door shut. Shifting your strong hands to the soft crease of her ass and thigh, you bump your teeth into hers in your eagerness, but she doesn’t seem to mind. You walk her into the apartment, kicking the door shut behind you. 

Tara smells like the airport and outside wind, something uniquely New York caught in her hair. She pulls back for only a second to reach around, drop her jacket and shoes, leaving her in just a shirt and comfy sweats. Her palms are sun-warm on your cheek and your neck; any place that she could touch was fair game for her. Your mind feels hazy already—it makes it hard to focus as you try to maneuver around furniture you could navigate in the dark, Tara’s presence more than disarming. Part of you wants to slow down, ask her how her semester went, but the smarter, Tara-influenced majority of you knows that with the way she was pulling at you and your heart, she would straight up kill you if you did that. You’re all too happy to oblige her, kissing her back for every day that she’d been gone. 

“I missed you,” she whispers as she pulls on the collar of your shirt, even though you’re pressed so close already. She’s feather-light in your arms as you carry her down the hallway, nearly stumbling through the bedroom door. You let her down to stand between your feet, freeing your hands to cup her jaw. The curve of Tara’s face is as familiar as the way her nose brushes against yours, soft. It only takes a second, really, but with just her scraping her nails on the back of your neck, you’re wanting, enough to hold her tight and feel her melt against you. 

Tara nearly topples the both of you when she grabs your shirt again and pulls. You just barely catch yourself from crushing her against the bed—but as always, she takes you by surprise, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and slanting her mouth against yours to deepen the kiss. The look in her half-lidded eyes as you peek down at her tells you all you need to know about her intentions. With the way you were kissing up on her, anyone would think that you’d been apart for years, not months, but god knows you couldn’t get enough. 

It’s near obscene, the press of your tongue against hers, but with all of the urgency built from the past few months, it only serves to split you open. As quick as it began, your kiss, broken by barely a gasp for air, turns heated and hungry. It’s filthy, and the urge to spit in her mouth and make her swallow is more than a fleeting thought. Instead, you force her thighs open with your hips, grabbing her ass and pulling her close.

Under her sweats, you can feel the edges of fabric underneath, and you grin, skimming your hands lower. You furrow your brow when you feel a telltale band of elastic, and your hands tighten on her thighs.

“Tara-” your voice comes out a rasp- “are you wearing thigh highs?” You’re nearly dizzy with how much blood rushes from your head to your stomach, pooling low and hot.

“I know you like them.” Tara smiles a little, impishly, but she looks down to your hands instead of your eyes. You know her—she’s looking for confirmation that she’s right, that she hadn’t overstepped in wearing something for you. In your mind, it’s absurd of her to even entertain this sort of thing, the way it sends a tingle up your spine. But Tara needs it, and you’re more than eager to please. You trail your fingers to her waistband, pulling her sweats down and off to expose her. Your grip on her hips is tight and squeezing, holding her in a way that’s unmistakable as want.

You cock your head, ignoring how loud your heart runs. “Oh, yeah? Is that why you’re matching again?” You take her hand, slide your thumb over her fingernails, in gel black. The sheer fabric is the same shade, soft as sin against your palms. Briefly, you consider tearing them apart, seeing the ruin of tatters against her skin—but her little whimper as you trace your fingers where her thighs spill out over the top makes you change your mind.

She’s breathing hard from just the kissing, and when she sighs into your mouth, you’re reminded of the way she’d boldly suggested, your blushing cheeks visible even on FaceTime, that you let her take a souvenir back to her apartment. Tara had complained that she was bored, in a way that homework couldn’t solve, her wide eyes telling you that was as true as could be. You never could back down from a challenge, no matter how warm it made you feel—that was why there was currently an old camera sitting on the bedroom table. You smile, biting your tongue.

“Remember what you said that night, baby?”

You point to the other end of the room, to the camera there, mocking. You expect her to laugh, to shake her head with an exasperated fondness, and push her lips back on yours. Instead, she freezes, swallowing. Her grip on your biceps tightens.

“Tara?”

She turns her gaze to you, and in the half-light you see that her pupils are blown, wide in a sort of disbelieving arousal. It hooks you in, a tug in your stomach, as your mind fills with only Tara. 

“Tara…” you repeat, “do you remember?” She’s quiet, a blush rising steadily to her cheeks. “‘Don’t you wish you could see what you do to me,’” you tease, leaning in close. “You want me to watch you, right? Well, doll, there’s a camera right there.”

“I—” Tara nearly protests, but oh, her flush, the way her hips move so subtly, is telling enough for you. Not letting her hesitate anymore, you grab her shoulders, flipping her so she’s under you. She fits perfectly, holding you up just as much as you’re holding her down.

“You’re gonna watch this when you’re alone, right?” You tease, trailing a hand down her arm to push her wrists above her head with one hand. In your daze, you know her tells as well as you know that drag of desire in your stomach, and so you already know that she’s— “You’re gonna watch this and rut that needy pussy on your hand, is that it?”

It’s your turn to look for confirmation—distantly, it rings in your mind that you must’ve lost your mind, to be talking to Tara like this, but what’s more apparent to you is the moan that escapes from her mouth, the way her eyes slide shut.

“Yeah,” she breathes, something shameless in the twist of her brow as she arches her back. Her nipples press into your chest, hard through her thin shirt, her knees falling open even more. She’s warm, underwear just clinging to her and leaving nothing to imagination. “I’ll watch it whenever you want me to.”

“You will,” you laugh, something deep and dark. “But when you touch, you’ll let me know when you’re gonna come, okay? So I know that you’ve stopped, like a good girl.” You grind your hips between her thighs, watching her breath catch. It’s a soft, bated moment, but something cracks in the air, nearly audible. The shift between the two of you is a familiar one, apparent in the way that she clings harder to you, presenting her chest, the column of her throat, the tilt of her jaw. 

“I will,” she says obediently, her pleading gaze making you grin. “I’ll stop, I’ll touch myself, whatever you want—”

Just as quick, you’re pushing yourself off of her. The room is quiet, save for your footsteps and Tara’s breaths, adorably shaky. The camera is easy to set up, even if you do chance a look at her one too many times. You’re back by her side, and you both watch the red light, winking back at you.

You sit down next to Tara, trailing your hand up and down her stomach. “I’ll tell you every dirty little thing I’d like to do to you, if you’re patient,” you whisper in her ear, something meant for only her to hear.

Her hands are on your shoulders, and the next thing you know, your back is pressed to the bed, and Tara’s rocking her weight on top of you. She leans in close, breath as soft as her skin against your lips, breathing out a quiet ‘yes.’ Giving a little twist that not-so-accidentally presses her heat against the seam of your jeans, she pulls her shirt and bra off in one miraculous motion. You touch her skin, smooth and warm and hot, and you just know she enjoys how your eyes can’t help but drop lower, your hands nearly following. She leans in to kiss you again, the ends of her hair tickling your collar. You both pull back, and you take a second to just look at her, and you can see how she’s been. School was long and difficult, it’s in the set of her eyes, and you want to know more, despite the burn in your stomach. 

But with the way she’s looking back at you, white little teeth worrying at her lip, you all but smile.

“Alright, pretty girl,” you tease, “what is it, now?” She whines when your hands meet her chest, rolling her nipples between your fingers. “C’mon, tell me.”

It comes more easily than you expect, and it drops molten heat into your chest. “I wanna ride your face,” she whispers. You grab for her hips, tight. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.” 

Glancing over at the red light, you bite down a groan. “Do you think you deserve it?”

“Yes, yes—” she’s already straining against your grip, trying to crawl her way up your body.

“That’s for me to decide, Tara.”

She keens, but she drops her head to watch your hands on her—she’s sensitive—as she pants. You shush her, sliding your thigh between hers. It must catch on her in just the right way, because she’s tensing up in your arms, fingers digging into your shoulders. 

“You’re looking so desperate,” you laugh, glad she can’t see the flush on your cheeks.

“I am.” Her bold declaration stops your heart in your chest; you know she’s telling the truth. 

“So say ‘please,’” you murmur, head spinning.

Her eyes are glossy when she finally looks at you. “Please…”

“Very good,” you say patiently. You lean up to kiss her, sucking her bottom lip none too gently. “Why don’t you beg a little?”

You see how the false hope makes her tears so willing to spill out. Her hips rut on your thigh, with no rhyme or rhythm—you’re practically begging yourself to help her, but you hold back.

“Please,” she says again, taking a ragged breath. “Please, want your tongue in me—”

“Louder, Tara,” you snap, threading a hand in her hair and pulling her head up, none too gently. You force her to look in the camera, watching her pupils dilate as she stares down the lens. “I want you to be reminded of what a whiny bitch you are.”

“Want you to eat me out,” she whines to the camera, closing her eyes against the redness in her cheeks. “Want…” The next time she says it, it's louder—you release Tara’s hips to pull her panties off, nearly tearing them when she shifts up the bed at the same moment. 

It makes you ache, being so close to touching Tara, her scent heady and thick, ensconcing your every sense. Her hands grab the headboard as you wrap your arms around her thighs to pull her closer to your lips. She’s practically shaking in her anticipation, and truthfully, it’s hard for you to wait any longer. You trace your tongue across the stretch marks on her inner thighs, and then straight to her cunt. She’s all velvet and honey against you, as you eagerly run your tongue up and down, savoring what you’ve missed. It’s so intoxicatingly good that you nearly miss the way she cries out, your name a shameless prayer. 

You miss her weight on your chest as her back arches, and immediately you’re tracing the dip in her spine. Irrevocably, you’re watching her every move as you tease at her clit, making her rut her hips against your face, chasing friction.

“Fuck,” she says on an exhale, breaking the word into two damning syllables, just like the ba-dum of your heart. Tara tears her hand from the headboard, threading her fingers into your hair to pull you closer. It’s a gesture that you should chastise her for, but you can’t bring yourself to resist her.

“That’s it, pretty girl.” You wrap your lips around her clit and ease two fingers in at the same time—she’s so wet it doesn’t take much to get them in. When you look up at her, the glazed expression on her face is something sated and satisfied, like chocolate wouldn’t ever melt in her mouth. A lazy grin graces her lips, a dusty pink rising up on her cheeks as she squirms against you, adjusting easily to the familiar stretch. 

Somehow, you can feel in your gut that she’s being good for the camera, and you can’t bring yourself to take your time. You want everything at once, to make her come over and over again into your waiting mouth, greed your only sin since you were so far past lust, falling into adoration and something dangerously like—

“Please.” It spills out of Tara’s mouth, golden and warm.

“You’ve been saying ‘please’ an awful lot, Tara.”

You wrap your hand, the one not knuckle deep in Tara’s cunt, around her thigh. Squeezing, you felt the soft stockings against your palm as you guided her hips to rock into you, your fingers and your tongue. You wanted her to feel whenever she’d play the video back, for her to be able to memorize fucking your mouth, so no matter the distance, she’d remember. As if on cue, her moan echoes around the walls, in your mind. 

“The camera’s gonna pick that up, you know.” Your voice is rough, out of breath with how warm it is to be under Tara.

Her voice is tight, choked. “I know, baby.” 

You don’t stop, only shifting slightly to get your thumb on her clit, so you can lean back. You swipe your tongue on your bottom lip, tasting her so sweet, and you watch her eyes, fading in and out of focus, tracking your motion.

“Gonna—”

“Tara,” you laugh, but it’s a warning. She whines, hips twitching, and you can see her lip between her teeth.

“Gonna—oh god—it’s—”

“Gonna what?” You mock, flexing your fingers. “You can do better than that.”

“Please, let me come?” Something warm unfurls in your chest at Tara knowing you want her to ask, your perfect girl, even when she’s so far gone.

“Why?” Your question makes Tara still her hips, which is saying something. “Why should I let you, baby?”

She’s quiet, and since you’ve always been weak for her, you take pity. Your heart’s racing, and the heat in your stomach craves to just see her.

“You’re so good for me, my love… why should I let you come?”

“Because—” Tara breaks off with a lovely little whine, and then it hits her. It breaks up into a floaty feeling in her stomach, like a plume of sparks. Her thighs are trembling around your head, and you lean up to smear her slick on your lips, nudging her clit. “Because I’m your good girl.”

“That’s it, doll,” you murmur. “Come for me, Tara.”

And Tara comes, white hot and tense against you, and in that moment, you think you believe in magic. You want to invent something new just to eternalize her with more than the camera, something more than memory. She’s breathing hard, and you wiggle yourself out from under her. Pliant in your arms, she’s quiet as you help her lay down gently on the covers. For you, your mind was anything but quiet. You think you could run anywhere just to feel Tara, and you can’t resist smiling. Crawling over to give her a peck on the lips, you think Tara’s done—she’s blinking sleepily, eyes flicking between you and the camera, so you move between her knees to shuffle her stockings off, skin against skin. You hear her clear her throat, breaking your trance of fondness.

You look up—you see Tara look to the camera again, and your eyes helplessly follow. She’s got a mischievous little quirk to her lips, like she just knows how bad you wanted to see her come, and…

“You’re gonna tell me those dirty things now, aren’t you?”

--

a/n cont'd: 🌝

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

BEETLEJUICE (1988) + trivia insp.

how to draw arms ? ? 

HAPPY PRIDE EVERBODY (You didn't ask) Unfortunately I can't go to any pride parades in la because homophobic family but if any of you do tell me about Be gay do crime

*screams*

HAPPY FUCKING PRIDE

ASEXUAL AND AROMANTIC PEOPLE EXIST AND ARE PART OF THE COMMUNITY

NOW GO BE MENACES TO SOCIETY

Her ABS omg

this one angle makes me incredibly feral

Renee Rapp is topping me, Renee strapp

Renee is eating, Renee Wrapp

Renee is proud of smth, Renee clapp

Renee is ready to fight, Renee slapp

Me when someone says Xavier and Wednesday had chemistry

YES. YES. This is why I love you @sorrowedpickle 😫💖

Drunk in love.

g!p!Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, that’s it. Pure smut

a/n: i was eating sea food while writing this and so was @mommykye and @makncheese12 who were lovely enough to help with editing it so go follow them

Her touch was electric, a frantic exploration that sent shivers down your spine. Her fingers dug into your sides, pulling you closer as her lips remained glued to the sensitive curve of your neck, her breath hot and ragged against your skin making you shiver. The frantic rhythm of your pulse thrummed in your head as you fumbled through your purse to find the key card.

The memories of the Met Gala after-party swam hazily in your mind – the clinking of champagne glasses, the sound of laughter and conversations with so many people and friends of Jenna faint in the back of your mind almost near forgotten as you rush to get inside. The drinks had loosened your will to act right, painting the air between you with desire. Every glance, every accidental brush of skin to skin, had sent sparks flying through your core and even more through Jenna’s.

And now, her pressed against your back in the dimly lit hallway, the carefully constructed facade of polite conversation had shattered as whispers in your ear were said throughout the car ride. Her after-party dress, a shedded down version of her original dress, clung to her curves like a second skin, each movement a tantalizing display. Her hands, emboldened by the unspoken tension, slipped beneath the hem of your own short dress, sending a jolt of heat through you. You gasped as her fingers, insistent and knowing, traced the lace of your panties. Her teeth grazed the shell of your ear, a delicate torment that made you shudder with anticipation.

The fear of being seen, the awareness of the public space, spurred you to action. Your fingers finally closed around the cool metal of the key card. With a surge of adrenaline, you slid it into the lock and stumbled into the darkened sanctuary of the hotel room, Jenna a very close shadow pressed against your back before you turned in her hold as she kicked the door shut, a loud bang shouting out as it clicked.

The urgency intensified. Her hands worked swiftly at the zipper of your dress, a soft growl escaping her lips as the fabric gave way. Simultaneously, your own hands reached behind her, fumbling with the delicate strings of her corset. Your lips crashed against hers, a desperate, hungry kiss that tasted of expensive champagne and her intoxicating Dior perfume, a blend underscored by her own musk that sent your senses reeling.

The sound of tearing fabric filled the small space as she impatiently pulled the expensive dress she had tailored for you down your body, the delicate material pooling at your feet, discarded without a second thought. Her hands, now with uninhibited access, roamed your skin, mapping the contours of your body with a feverish intensity. You, in turn, finally managed to untie the intricate lacework of her corset, releasing her from its structured embrace no thanks to her as she made it much harder for you, more focused on getting you naked than herself.

Before you could fully register the change in atmosphere, you were pushed forward, stumbling onto the plush surface of the bed. She followed, a lack of grace in her movements as she crawled on top of you, her gaze hot and filled with a raw desire that mirrored your own.

Her dark eyes, wide and dilated, raked over you. "You look so pretty like this," she whispered, her voice husky with longing. Your hair fanned out against the pillows, breath catching in your throat as you stared up at her, every nerve ending alight with anticipation. Your own hands reached up, fumbling with the buttons of her silk button up, eager to feel her skin against yours.

Her lips left a trail of fire down your neck. "beautiful," she murmured, her breath hot against your flesh. A shaky laugh escaped your lips. "You're one to talk." The words were barely out before your hands found her waist, pulling her down between your legs, a silent plea for the friction you both craved.

A husky laugh rumbled in her chest, a sound that vibrated through your core, igniting a firestorm of sensation. You felt her hand reach behind you, fumbling and almost struggling with the straps before pulling them apart and quickly discarding the offending fabric joined your dress on the floor. In the next instant, her lips closed over your nipple in a swift motion, a sensation so intense that coherent thought dissolved into a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

you moan quietly, hand reaching to the back of her hand as you hold her there while your other hand works to find the strap of her own bra.

The tug on her bra strap was clumsy but effective. The delicate lace parted, and you finally had the skin-on-skin contact you craved. Jenna shifted above you, her weight a delicious pressure. Her mouth left your breast, trailing kisses down your sternum, each touch sending jolts of electricity through your already heightened senses.

Jenna’s breath hitched as your fingers finally released her bra. The immediate skin-on-skin contact sent a fresh wave of desire crashing over you both. She shifted, her silk shirt falling off completely, revealing the soft swell of her breasts and below the band of her boxers. Her dark eyes locked with yours, a silent, hungry conversation passing between you.

Her hand slid down your stomach, her fingers dipping beneath the elastic of your panties once more, finding the slick heat waiting there. You gasped, your hips lifting instinctively as she explored you with a practiced touch.

“God, you feel so good,” she groaned, her voice thick with lust. Your hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back as she fought to rain kisses down your jawline.

Without warning, she shifted again, her weight pressing you further into the mattress. Her lips found yours once more, a deep, open-mouthed kiss that left you breathless. Her tongue tangled with yours, a frantic dance of desire. You could taste the lingering champagne and something else, something uniquely her, that drove you wild.

She broke the kiss abruptly, her gaze intense. “I want you to taste me,” she rasped, her hand still firmly between your legs, her fingers teasing and probing. Your own hands reached for the hem of her boxers, your desire a tight knot in your belly.

“Then let me,” you managed.

Jenna didn’t hesitate. With a rough tug, she pulled down her boxers, revealing the impressive length and girth of her hard dick. It pulsed visibly, thick and heavy, the head already glistening. She moved, a low growl rumbling in her chest, and lay back against the pillows, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your breath came out ragged. You moved to lay on your stomach and reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as you wrapped them around the shaft. It was hot and solid, filling your hand completely. Jenna groaned, her hands moving to your head to grip your hair tightly as she watched.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against the velvety head. She inhaled sharply, her hips lifting slightly off the mattress. You took her into your mouth, the taste instantly familiar and intoxicating. You sucked deeply, your hands working up and down the length of her dick, relishing the feel of her throbbing against your tongue.

Jenna’s moans grew louder, more desperate. Her hands tangled in your hair, guiding your head, urging her dick deeper down your throat. Her hips bucked against your mouth, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the frantic beat of your own heart. You could feel the tension building in her body, the anticipation radiating off her in waves.

The taste of her was potent, arousing you further. You swirled your tongue around the head, paying special attention to the sensitive underside. A strangled sound escaped her lips, fingers tightened in your hair, a silent plea for more.

After what felt like an eternity, she pulled you back slightly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her eyes were glazed with lust, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

“Fuck, baby,” she groaned, her voice thick and raw. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

She moved again, her hands gripping your thighs, pulling your legs open. You instinctively parted them further, your own desire a burning ache between your thighs. She positioned herself between your legs, the hard head of her thick dick pressing against your slick, swollen pussy. You gasped, a primal sound of anticipation escaping your lips.

“Please, Jenna,” you whispered, your hands reaching for her hips, guiding her closer, desperate for the connection.

With a guttural groan that seemed to tear from her very core, she thrust forward, her dick sliding deep inside you. You cried out, a sharp intake of breath as she stretched you open, the sensation both intensely pleasurable and momentarily overwhelming.

She paused for a fraction of a second, letting you adjust, her hands gripping your hips tightly, her gaze locked on your face.

Then, she began to move.

Her thrusts were deep and rough, fueled by the alcohol and the raw, desperate need that had been simmering between you all night. The worn bedframe slammed against the headboard with each powerful movement, the rhythmic thudding echoing in the small room like a frantic heartbeat. You wrapped your legs around her waist, meeting her forceful thrusts with your own instinctive movements, your hands gripping her back, digging your nails into her skin, leaving long red marks in there wake.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” she grunted, her breath hot against your ear, the words laced with a desperate edge. “So fucking good.”

You were both slick with sweat, your bodies moving together in a primal, almost violent rhythm. The world outside the hotel room ceased to exist. There was only the intense friction, the deep penetration, the desperate gasps and moans that filled the air, punctuated by the relentless banging of the bed.

Breaking her relentless rhythm, she suddenly flipped you over with surprising strength, manhandling you onto your hands and knees. You barely registered the abrupt change in position, your mind completely consumed by the intense sensations flooding your body. Her hands gripped your hips, lifting you slightly as she slammed into you from behind, her thick dick hitting your deepest point with each forceful thrust.

“Like this, baby?” she growled, her voice thick with lust and a hint of something almost feral.

“Yes,” you gasped, your head thrown back, her hand tangling itself into your hair while her other hand pushes you down between your shoulder blades. “Oh god, yes, Jenna. Fuck me.”

The force of her thrusts was almost brutal, the bed rocking precariously beneath you, threatening to give way entirely. You could hear the wood creak and groan under the immense strain, but neither of you cared. You were both too far gone, lost in the intoxicating, almost violent frenzy of your drunken, desperate coupling.

Jenna’s hands roamed your body, squeezing your waist, pulling you closer and pushing you down, her fingers digging into your skin, leaving faint trails. Her teeth grazed your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, a primal claim. So much different than her usual calm public figure.

The rhythmic pounding continued, faster and harder, the urgency escalating until you both teetered on the precipice. You cried out, your body clenching around her thick dick as wave after wave of intense, shuddering pleasure washed over you, stealing your breath. Jenna groaned loudly, a primal sound of release tearing from her throat as she pumped into you one last time, her entire body shuddering with the force of her orgasm before collapsing on top of you, her weight heavy and utterly satisfying.

You both laid there for a moment, taking a moment to breathe and stay in the small embrace.

“More,” Jenna mumbles suddenly, breaking the silence as a sudden burst of energy courses through her.

You moan softly as she yanks you to the end of the bed, legs falling off as she positions herself inside of you again.

~~~~~

The frantic energy of moments before dissolved into a heavy, sated silence after hours of Jenna endlessly pushing both your limits. The only sounds were the shallow, rapid breaths escaping your lips and the deeper, rumbling inhales and exhales of Jenna’s body pressed against yours. Her weight, which had felt electric and demanding just moments ago, now felt comforting, possessive. Her still-hard dick remained buried deep inside you, a lingering reminder of the raw intensity that had just consumed you both.

A small, involuntary whimper escaped your lips as you shifted slightly beneath her. The friction, though dulled, was still undeniably present. You could feel the faint throbbing of her pulse against your inner walls, a subtle echo of the storm that had just passed.

Jenna mumbled something incoherent, eyebrows furrowing before relaxing, her face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, her breath warm and damp against your skin. Her grip on your hips gone, but she remained connected with them wrapped around your torso, her body a dead weight atop yours.

You ran a hand through her sweat-dampened hair, the dark strands clinging to your fingers. The scent of her – the lingering perfume, the musky undertones of exertion, and something uniquely Jenna – filled your senses. A wave of tenderness washed over you, a stark contrast to the almost violent passion of your lovemaking.

A soft snore escaped her lips, a clear indication that exhaustion and the lingering effects of the champagne had finally claimed her. Her body remained intimately joined with yours, a testament to the depth of your shared pleasure.

A wry smile touched your lips. You could only imagine the state of the bed, the rhythmic banging against the headboard echoing in your mind. You made a mental note to discreetly inquire about any potential damage to the furniture upon checkout. The image of the worn frame protesting under your combined frenzy was almost comical now, in the quiet aftermath. not to mention the embarrassment you’ll encounter.

Your gaze drifted to the discarded remnants of your expensive dress and her tailored gown, lying in crumpled heaps on the floor. They were casualties of your mutual desire, ripped and disregarded in your haste to be closer.

A fresh wave of desire stirred within you, a low thrumming in your core. The thought of waking up with her still inside you, the promise of a slow, deliberate awakening filled with lingering touches and whispered promises, sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You imagined the lazy stretches, the soft moans as she became aware of your intertwined bodies, the inevitable renewal of your passion.

You shifted again, trying to get more comfortable without fully dislodging her. The slight movement caused a soft groan to rumble in her chest, and she instinctively tightened her grip on you, a possessive reflex even in sleep.

A surge of affection welled up within you. This raw, unguarded intimacy, so different from the carefully curated public persona she presented, was a privilege. You knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within you, that when Jenna woke, still intimately connected to you, the night was far from over. The frantic exploration might give way to a more languid, sensual awakening, but the intensity of her desire would undoubtedly remain. And you would be there, ready to meet it, your own body already anticipating her touch.

—————

Tagslist: @skate-to-breathee @wol-fica @raven-ss @restlessdot @dumb-fvck104 @crazyoffher @rhythm-catsandwine @makncheese12 @jennasslut@t-wylia @pnsteblnme @mar-romanova @ssinfulprayers @hellenheaven @btrizi @furry-monster-trash @je-tts @mokotodenis123 @ajortga @jensortega813 @bluetreecloud20