Moon Sworn

Ns/fw sideblog to svnsworn

[mxxnswxrn]

She is ruthless with the way she balances over him, teasing the head of his cock along her entrance, and he’s so hard, and she’s so wet, and he groans, feeling like the seconds are taking forever. She’s ruthless, but he loves it, loves the way she looks on top of him, the sounds she makes as she sinks down onto him, the breath of his name on her lips. He grips her thighs and says nothing, only lets out a low almost growl from the back of his throat. She’s perfect around him, and this is the heat he’s thought about for months, that his hand could never emulate.

For a moment, neither of them move, but then she sets the pace, terribly slow at first, but he understands, he didn’t let her rest for long before this. Part of him wants to thrust upwards, or to take her hips and guide her faster, please, faster, but he gives her the time to take it at her pace. Truthfully, he isn’t in a rush to finish, he wants to be inside of her in some way for as long as possible.

Still, he doesn’t complain when she starts to move faster, and he likes it when her hands brace on his chest and she looks into his eyes. She’s stunning in more ways than he can count. He’s lucky to have her in his life, to stand beside her, to be her husband. The heavy look in her eyes as she breathes through parted lips drives him wild, and he wants to flip them over and feel her legs curl around his waist, her heels digging into his back, while he takes her with the force and gusto his desire drives him to.

But he doesn’t. He’s too close, and there’s always later. One hand loosens from her thigh and reaches up to hold the back of her head, pulling her close so he can kiss her, moan into her mouth as he gets closer, closer, until his body tenses, tightens, and he comes inside of her, better than he has in the months of their separation. He can’t help how his hips lift, thrusting into her a few more times as he rides out the waves of his orgasm. 

When he falls back flat to the mattress, he holds her side, her shoulder, palms smoothing across her skin, and breathes heavily. He’s glad she didn’t go to that meeting, that she opted instead to stay here with him. They might not be seen until dinner, and then not again until the morning. He wants her spent completely before they fall asleep for the night.

[mxxnswxrn]

mercyloved​:

( mxxnswxrn​ )

He’s content to lay beside her, kiss her, slip his hand beneath her shirt - the last vestige of clothing she still has on - and massage her breast, pinch and tug lightly on her nipple until it’s hard, and he wants her top off so he can ravish them with no restriction. But he opts to give her a few minutes to rest, keeping his palm over her breast and just enjoying the feel of her breathing. No heartbeat, no pulse where it might normally be racing, but he doesn’t care. The deep inhales are wonderful, and he wants to kiss her breathless just to keep watching her breathe.

She takes over, though, and he grins as she pushes him onto his back and climbs atop him. He likes her no matter what, but it’s like a treat when she shifts herself on top and he can see her fully as she rolls her hips on his. A groan escapes him at the thought.

“You first,” he breathes, lifting himself enough to capture her in another kiss - until her hand pulls apart the front of his pants and slips down to take him in hand, releasing his cock from the entrapments that could only somewhat hide how hard he is for her. His hips buck up into her hand, another sound falling from his lips, and he looks up into her eyes.

Is she ready? Could she go again, or is she returning the favor while her body prepares for when he will inevitably take her again (again, again, he can never have enough of her when they get days like this)? He doesn’t know, simply watches her face, occasionally glancing down between them where her thighs part and he can see the bite marks he left behind, where he can see the trail of her arm leading to where she slowly strokes him.

“Please, By-” 

[mxxnswxrn]

mercyloved​:

( mxxnswxrn​ )

He knew she was close from the way she had started gasping for air and digging her heel into his back. He’d known before her words told him so, because he’s learned to read her body language, the ways her hands and skin and shuddering breaths tell him what she’s feeling when she doesn’t know how to say it. And he knew that he was going to make her crumble beneath his touch because being apart for so long makes him wonder if she remembers to take care of herself in his absence. Nutritionally, yes; sleeping, yes; but does she touch herself and think of him? He can’t be sure, so he makes sure to take care of her while they’re together.

And he does what he set out to do, pressing deeper inside of her, not letting up any amount of touch or ministration until her body has clenched and tightened, and then released her back onto the bed. He knows how she looks in those moments, remembers the curve of her back beneath his hand as he holds her against him, the parting of her lips as she moans out his name. He doesn’t need to see her to know her.

Her release nearly leaves him breathless, and he pulls back with slightly labored breathing a a smile. “I think so, too,” he says, and it takes effort to pull himself away from her, from wanting to do her in again and again - there’s still time, the afternoon is young and she has nowhere to be - but he does, straining against the tightness at the front of his pants as he stands and goes into the small adjoined room to get her a towel, wiping down his mouth first, and delivering it into her hands as he lays alongside her.

“You’re still too clothed. I don’t think I did my job right.” Smile still in place, he kisses her jaw and rests his hand on her stomach beneath her shirt, not making any move to remove it just yet, though he’d rip it all off and take her several more times if it were up to him. He’ll let her rest for now, though.

[nofckingfighting]

[mxxnswxrn]

mercyloved​:

The trouble with being apart for so long is that Felix finds a severe lack of willpower around her. For months now, he’s had to thrive on the memory of her: her breath on his neck and her mouth trailing kisses across his skin; her voice gasping out soft moans that grow a bit with time and teasing and the push towards her finish. He’s had to try and remember the slide of her thighs around his hips and her nails scraping along his skin, but it isn’t the same as having her with him.

It’s what makes him so tempted to give in to what she asks (please, Fe, and the slight husk to her voice around his name brings a low growl to the back of his throat, a rush straight to his groin, pressing him tighter inside the fit of his pants, and the arm around her waist pulls her back against him to seek the friction he wants, he needs, from her), to help her skip this meeting by claiming her time. He has so little of it right now while she works with the others to sort the church out, and it may be blasphemy but to hell with the church and how it keeps her from him.

He presses an open mouthed kiss against her neck, grazing teeth, and he’d bite down if it weren’t someplace it would be seen - he’s still young and horny enough to want it to be seen - which only makes the draw to remove her clothes all the more tantalizing. Oh, how he’s missed even the mere idea of her when the nights have gotten lonely and the heat of her mouth and the pillowing of her breasts aren’t there to ease the frustration.

“If they get angry, you can blame me.”

One last curl of his fingers inside her, slow, almost cruel, but he wants one more buck of her hips, one more gasp, before he pulls his hand free from her and shifts around her with little elegance in the motion despite his dexterity, he simply wants to get where he needs to be. Not where she expects him, he thinks, but he can wait.

A quick swipe of his tongue over his fingers, and he sets to work loosening the little bits of cloth and lace she wears around her hips, slides them down her legs, discards them with her shoes, and goddess, he’s so hard, the strain making him groan again and palm the front of his pants once - it doesn’t help - before crawling up between her legs. He’s still clothed, only his boots and socks off and in the pile forming with hers. He wants her so badly, he wants to rip their clothing off and feel her hot and wet around his cock-

But he refrains. For now.

Eyes hooded and dark, he kisses her, tugging open her bodice with practiced ease, letting her work her way out of it while he set to slipping a hand up her shirt to massage her breast, squeezing it within his palm, and he wants to take it slow, to drag it out, but he doesn’t know if they’ll last this first round much longer. He pinches her nipple, rolls it between thumb and forefinger, but abandons it before long. He has work to do.

Another kiss, and then he slips lower, balancing on his elbows and kissing her inner thigh, biting her inner thigh, but she’s still hot and needy and he’s waited too long to have her near again. Curling one arm around her thigh, the other flat on her stomach, he dips low and drags his tongue against her clit, gaze locked on her face, the heave of her chest, the parting of her lips and he wants to press his thumb against her tongue and drag it across her teeth.

A press of his own tongue, swirling the tip around that intense bundle of nerves, and he loves her, loves every part of her, loves how she comes undone for him. His breath hitches at the feel of her, the sight of her, and he makes a decision and moves lower, fingers now replaced by tongue, and she’s wet and receptive and could get off on the sound of her moans alone, moans that seem to grow a bit as he uses his thumb to circle his clit again, moving faster, knowing she’s close, so close, and he’s going to get her there however many times he can before they have no choice but to collapse together for a while.

[mxxnswxrn]

[bitmemisoykuler]

[rxcknrxlla]

[joelsossa]

Cuarentena 3 (Tepatitlán, 2020)

[heavenhillgirl]

Lovelace (2013), dir. Rob Epstein & Jeffrey Friedman

[redsawyer]

[tracknumber06]

[mxxnswxrn]

Early morning shenanigans ft. David and Meryl for @nocturnxlhearts

She’s in a blissful state between waking and sleeping, when she’s aware of how comfortable and warm she is, no longer dreaming, but not conscious enough to be fully awake. David’s curled around her, his arm draped over her side, but she feels a tension in how he slips his hand across her stomach that says that he’s far more awake than she is. Not unusual. They’ve both been trained to be early risers, but he’s often up before she is.

This morning, though, he leans in close and breathes her name against her ear, gruff with sleep but heavy with something more, and it takes only a shift in her leg to feel that he’s hard. A sleepy smile curls across her lips, and she doesn’t open her eyes as she places her hand over his and guides it beneath the tank top she wore to bed, over her breast. Her way of giving permission, that she’s awake enough to want this, too. He responds in kind, an almost lazy squeeze, catching her nipple in the webbing between two fingers, eliciting a soft  sound from her before he moves down, down her side, her hip, dipping instead beneath her panties.

It doesn’t take much to arouse her, and as she tilts her head to expose her neck, which he takes advantage of to lay warm kisses across it, she reaches back to push his underwear down enough to free him from the constraint of them. With deft fingers, he pushes the thin fabric aside and slips easily inside of her, filling her in a way that’s so familiar and always welcome, and he adjusts himself only slightly to fit the curve of her body easier before placing his hand on her hip.

The warmth that cocooned them as they slept only gets warmer, more comfortable, as he begins a lazy rhythm of gentle thrusts. The friction of his chest against her back, her top sliding against her skin, draws out another quiet whimper from her; his breath hot against her ear, low groans falling from his lips, and maybe they can be a little late today, can’t they? She feels sensitive across her entire body, and as he picks up his pace just a touch, she finds her own, rolling her hips against his as best she can with how he holds her, and her own hand finds her breast again, fingers curling against flesh, nails scraping and fingers inevitably leaving some red marks that will fade in mere minutes, but that give her stimulation now.

“David,” she breathes, turning her head towards his, and he kisses the side of her mouth, leaves those groans and whispers against her lips. She’s close, and he must know that, must know the tells of her body, his hand slipping back between her legs and touching her, giving enough pressure that she tenses around him, her stomach tightens, and she lets out a quiet moan as he pushes her to climax, following shortly after. His hips keep rolling for a little longer, until they’re both lying together with labored breathing and content smiles.

She rolls over to face him, then pushes a bit more until he’s on his back and she’s lying on top of him, planting kisses against his chest, his neck, his jaw, finally landing some against his lips. “Give me a minute to find my legs again, won’t you?” A mischievous grin tells him what he needs to know what her plans are in a minute, if he gives her that.

[mxxnswxrn]

nocturnxlhearts​:

David has been running on exhaust. There’s days he just wants to let it all go, to feel nothing and no longer deal with the prying questions and gazes full of pity. He didn’t ask for this life and he sure as hell didn’t ask for the world to be placed on his shoulders, yet here he is carrying it again. 

It’s a strange turn of events and a kind of reprieve when, only hours after his exam with Naomi, they find themselves tangled together. He doesn’t know what ignited the spark, only that it’s a roaring flame now. Like fighting or sneaking, these are skills he hasn’t lost despite his accelerated aging, and the curve of her thigh is a more welcome feel than that of a rifle or the cold, hard ground. His hand ran along her stockings and garters, relishing her skin, before delving deeper and finding exactly what he wanted. 

Is he using her for himself? To stroke his ego when he hasn’t felt worth anything in so long? Earlier her face had been full of pity, but now she’s gasping his name with legs wide open, clinging to him, and it felt good. Better than he had in a long time. 

And fuck if he hasn’t always found Naomi attractive.

Is this the time or place for it though? Probably fucking not.

Her hand finds him hard against his suit, straining painfully against the material, and her touch elicits a sharp inhale. A few moments of maneuvering and he’s free. Like her, he’s still mostly clothed, but they’re only interested in one thing. 

Greedy hands push her skirt up further, the material ripping, then grasp her waist and pull her to him. He slides in easy, finding her wet and wanting, and there’s a small point of pride that swells in him. Feeling her, a guttural groan rips from his throat, but he doesn’t lose momentum. If before she only stuttered his name, now he wants her to scream it. 

Naomi would be lying if she said she hadn’t considered what being physical with David would have been like. He was attractive, fit, filled out his suit in a way that let the mind wander without needing too much imagination to fill the gaps. But to consider it, and to be here, are two entirely different things, though those meandering daydreams had been years lost to time and work and relocations and-

And it doesn’t matter because he’s here now, and he’s different in some ways, but still the same in many others, but also new, his fervor in how he pushes her skirt up with little care for how the material tears a surprise to her, as well as how he grips her waist and pulls her closer, and it’s instinctual how her legs shift around his hips, feet resting against the back of his calves as he slips inside of her. She gives herself away with how wet she is, with how she breathes a soft whimper as he slides all the way in, and oh, she’d imagined he’d be a good size, but he proves it to her now.

If there’d been any subconscious doubt in her mind before that maybe his rapid aging had an effect on his stamina, he seems eager to push those aside with each sharp snap of his hips, and she feels fine having those doubts removed entirely. With trembling arms, she lowers herself back, back, until she’s laying down, back arched as she curls her legs around his waist and lets out a less muffled moan with this new angle, and it feels  incredible.

She says his name again, a plea, a request, a command, she doesn’t know, just reaches for his hand and places it on her chest, pushing aside her top so she can feel the texture of his suit, the grip of his fingers, the press of his palm flush against flushed and sensitive skin, and she bites her lip as she looks up at him, watching him, only breaking eye contact when her eyes would flutter shut with a particularly sharp thrust.

[mxxnswxrn]

@nocturnxlhearts wanted this and didn’t know I’d do anything about it

Maybe they’d both wanted this since they first met, or maybe ten years - nine, she tries to remind herself between short gasps and a haze fogging over her mind - of separation has driven them together in a way they hadn’t anticipated. She doesn’t know, finds that in the moment, she doesn’t care, can think more about it later.

She sits back as his head leans against hers, his breath warm against her neck, and he’s got a knee between her legs, holding her knees apart as one hand slips up the freshly torn split in her skirt, thumb circling with maybe too much pressure but it feels good, so good, after years of it just being herself. Her hands tremble as they reach up to grip his shoulders, and breathless words barely form on her lips as skilled fingers push aside her panties and slip inside of her.

“D-David,” she tries to say, finds it’s more of a stutter than his name, but the soft grunt against her ear makes her think he knows what she’s trying to say. She wets her lips and closes her eyes, feels release coming swift, fast, and the sound she lets out is barely a whimper, but she still presses her lips together, bites down on them, feels her hips jerking against his touch, encouraging the deep thrust of fingers to move faster, for his thumb to work a little harder, a little longer, she’s so close.

One hand moves to grip the back of his neck while the other, in a moment of haste and boldness and want, breaks away from his shoulder to shift down, trying to grab between his legs to where she imagines he must be hard and wanting, palm flat against his abdomen while fingers press to where she can feel a straining against his suit. She wants him, she decides as he gets her off with just one hand and staggered breaths against her neck. Any sounds are stifled and quiet, a secret for him alone, and as she comes down from what must seem to him like a very simple orgasm, her chest heaves beneath the open gap in her shirt and her head turns to rest against the side of his.

[mxxnswxrn]

nocturnxlhearts​:

@blossomingraindrops;

There’s few sounds he can hear with Meryl’s thighs against his ears, but the ones he can make him grin. They’re soft and slow, cascading down the curves of her body as she squirmed in breathless gasps against his mouth, unable to escape. No matter how she moved, his arms held her in place, and from below he had the beautiful view of her arching form. For a second longer he watched her writhe, eyes roaming over her flushed skin, and then closed his eyes to focus.

Even in the darkness he can still see her. The way her hand curls and pulls his hair, how her thighs tighten, the rock of her hips, her sharp gasps and hurried commands, every little movement giving her away. A rough-hewed hand raised to travel upward along curves and scarred skin, stopping when he came to her breast. Soft and supple, filling his palm, he brushed his thumb across her nipple and squeezed just as her hand covers his. 

His blue eyes open again and there she is, flushed, holding his hand with a desperate look. He can feel himself painfully erect behind her and that almost drives him over the edge.

Meryl doesn’t know if David had anyone before her, a partner or maybe just a few flings here and there, but when they’d first started getting intimate, he’d seemed a little nervous, a little shy. She hadn’t had anyone before, either, and this has been a learning experience for both of them. And oh has he learned exactly what to do to drive her wild, to bring her to the highest of peaks and tip her over them with pride and satisfaction written across that smile of his that he gives her.

He smiles now, between her legs, and she can feel the curve of his mouth as easily as his tongue, and her grasp tightens in his hair, pulls a bit harder, demanding that his smile find new purpose in his current task, her hips rocking as best they can into his motions. He holds her in place with a firm grip, fingers tight against her skin, and she’s lost to the moment, to how she wants him to keep going, ‘David, please, please,’ but wants to stay on this brink for a while longer, to find release but to still be caught in the thrall of his mouth, his hands, the sounds he makes that cause her to gasp sharply, biting her lip to try and keep the soft cries confined to just them and the walls around them.

His hand finds her breast, squeezes it, and she can’t help but follow suit, pressing hers on top of his, encouraging his grasp, his hands warm against her flushed skin, calloused and rough, and the scrape of fingertips and facial hair and the erratic rhythm he sets with the swipes of his tongue all drive her to the edge and over it in blissful climax, mouth open in a voiceless cry as her body tenses, thighs tighten around his head, toes curl, and she’ll wonder later if her grasp in his hair tightening hurt him too much.

She stutters out his name as she’s caught in the throes, until she’s able to catch her breath, shallow gasps as she rides out the waves of pleasure, coming down from it all as best as she can with him still working his jaw and watching her, gazing at her with hooded, dark gaze, and oh he could make her cum all over again with a look like that.

[mxxnswxrn]

soulcluster​:

@phantomdream​ / jessie It’s with no warning or fanfare that Jessie joins Cid where he sits half slouched in a simple chair with ratty cushioning, pushing his knees down just enough that she can seat herself atop his thighs, take the cigarette from his mouth, and hold it what definitely isn’t out of his reach but enough that he’d have to lean forward for it. “One kiss and you can have it back. I know it’s a difficult choice, but you gotta make it. Clock’s ticking.” Not counting down to anything, but she says it anyway.

One minute a guy’s relaxing with a smoke and the next he’s being straddled. Nothing to complain about, even for him, and he meets Jessie’s gaze with a faint grin. “What do I get for two?”

He doesn’t let her answer though. Instead, he reaches toward her. His hand finds the curve of her jaw and brings her to him, their lips meeting with fervent passion. A little effort and maneuvering and both hands find themselves beneath her ass, which he gives a good squeeze. 

His answer leaves it open for teasing and play, some banter to debate while they drag this out until he gives her a kiss and she gives him a half-burned cigarette back. Laughter lines her inhale as she starts to answer, but he stops her short, calloused hand pulling her in, and there’s the kiss she asked for. Ready to be on her way now, she starts to pull back and bring his cigarette in to place between his lips, but he has other plans.

A sound of surprise leaves her throat and catches in his mouth as he grabs her and slides her a little closer. Oh, she caught him at a different time than she thought. She pulls back just a bit to flick the ash off the end of the cigarette before taking a quick drag from it, something she rarely does, then tucks it back where she got it from and exhales smoke slowly, using one hand to guide his chin up and she presses her mouth against his neck.