#Liquid Clustering

[rajaniesh]

Liquid Clustering 101: What Every Databricks Developer Should Know

In the ever-evolving world of data management, Databricks has unveiled a game-changer: Liquid Clustering for Delta Lake. Imagine a dynamic data layout approach that not only simplifies your data decisions but also supercharges your query performance.

In the ever-evolving world of data management, Databricks has unveiled a game-changer: Liquid Clustering for Delta Lake. Imagine a dynamic data layout approach that not only simplifies your data decisions but also supercharges your query performance. Dive into this article to unlock the secrets of Liquid Clustering, a feature that promises to redefine how we think about data layout in Delta Lake.…

[cutiepieautistic]

Board to fuel my cheese obsession

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[serpentface]

@mouseymagus

(response to tags where I mention Brakul making a crab soup)

IRL I USED:

3x snow crab clusters

1.5 onions

1 large habanero

Uncounted, substantial amount of garlic cloves

Thyme

Fennel Seeds

Cumin Seeds

About 1/4th of a lemongrass sprig

A lot of turmeric powder

Bit of fish sauce

like 2 sazon packets (mostly for MSG)

A substantial amount of sweet soy sauce later added to taste (used it as a balance because I went too hard on the turmeric+cumin, though some would have been used either way)

A lot of plain yogurt

Spinach

[No measurements used for basically anything I do things entirely to taste when making soup and adjust as needed]

In-universe version would have an overall similar tasting mix of herbs and spices. He also has access to meatier crab, and would be making larger batches. Two types of fish sauce would have been used, one that's intense and provides most of the salt content, and one that is very sweet and mixed with date wine (the sweet soy sauce was a substitute for this, some kind of sweet port wine mixed with fish sauce would probably be more accurate).

Vegetables are all finely chopped (outside of the lemongrass) as they will be eaten in the final product. Everything except the yogurt and spinach is combined with water and allowed to cook for several hours to make the broth.

The broth should be very strong, somewhat excessive on the spices because it's going to be balanced out with yogurt. Once it reaches a good point, the heat should be turned low and the soup allowed to cool before the yogurt is stirred in, which should prevent curdling. This should be A LOT of yogurt, it's the key ingredient. Cream could also be used for a sweeter result. The color should end up very light golden-yellow.

Continue cooking on low heat for a while after adding the yogurt (I let it go like 1.5 hours). You don't want it to boil again but want the yogurt-broth to thoroughly penetrate the crabmeat. Once that's done, you can either strain it to remove fennel/cumin seeds and the cooked down vegetables (and replace them with freshly chopped ones), or let it be and to eat as is. Either way this is the point where you add the spinach and let it cook for a while longer, until the vegetables are soft.

Resulting soup should be a thick broth that’s notably spicy, mildly sweet, and the bitterness of the spices should be subtle. Should have a distinct turmeric flavor with the cumin, thyme, and fennel being subtler. You can open up the crab legs and add the meat into the soup, or eat out of them on the side (ideally with bread to scoop up any remaining liquid, or over grain)

In context, Brakul really likes to cook and is like, Okay at it. He's got a good sense for flavoring and a very, very bad sense for timing. His soups are notably quite good because they are the one thing that is virtually impossible to burn. This crab soup is his favorite thing to make, it's kind of a fusion between familiar recipes he would have had back home (crayfish broth boils with herbs and chili-spiced yogurt) and flavoring more favorable to the Wardi palate (especially cumin and imported turmeric). He's bad at integrating the yogurt at the proper heat though so it usually ends up curdled.

Here’s photos of the process for the lore friendly curdled version

[householdbinary]

idk who needs to hear this (i actually know exactly who needs to hear this) but shaping your entire view on and treatment of a marginalised group based on some negative interactions you had with one person - or even a few people - that belong(s) to that group is discrimination.

it's not your fault that you have trauma but it is your responsibility to make sure it doesn't bleed into your treatment of marginalised groups.

[squishsquishy]

>> dainty.nugs

[iturmom]

i've had a rough day. i made a new kitty friend just a few days ago. he's so sweet and friendly. he's talkative. but this morning he was being playful and he bit me a little too hard. he did break skin but it's the tiniest little nibble, only even one of his fangs broke skin and it was barely to the point that i wasn't even sure he did. but he's a stray, i'm sure of it bc his ear fungus and the sores on his body.

so i spent the whole day making phone calls trying to figure out what to do so i finally got through to the rabies nurse at the city health department and he told me of course to either get a rabies vaccine or call animal control so they could monitor him for 10 days. i can't afford to go to the er when i'm pretty sure he doesn't have rabies cause he doesn't seem at all rabid and i don't know if i can monitor him myself for 10 days bc i don't know when i'm moving but it seems like less than 10 days and he's a stray how would i know if he just didn't show up one day? i'm moving soon so i can't spend all day outside looking for him i'll need to pack and clean. and i've got other stuff going on too. i wanted to spend today preparing for halloween and cleaning and cooking food so that i didn't eat too much of the food for tomorrow and i wanted to make more food for tomorrow. and i wanted to hang out and watch spoooy stuff. but i couldn't think about anything else until i found a solution, so spent all day googling and making calls.

so i ended up calling animal control and that was a mess. the guy had me try to put the cat in a cage instead of trapping him with bait. he scratched me up good and i was so scared that he wouldn't trust me anymore but he came right back to me and he was all over me and it killed me when he nibbled me not once but twice bc he was so gentle when he nibbled so so gentle feather light nibbles barely there. and i was sobbing bc if he had just bit me that gently in the first place then today would have gone so much better for both of us! so then the guy finally brought out the live trap and the wet food. the poor kitty freaked out in the trap poor thing poor little guy.

the whole ordeal took an hour and a half of agony. i sobbed on the phone to my partner scared they might put him down and just about the trauma it caused him and how if he had just been so gentle the first time! i probably drove him crazy saying that over and over. but the animal control guy told me they won't put him down, and he even said he would request that they trap and release him without me even asking! so hopefully he'll just bounce back from the trauma. my partner made me get off the phone cause we have a big day tomorrow of going to the clinic (i can still go to the one at the homeless shelter for free for another year) since the rabies nurse at the health department said i should get antibiotics they can do that much at the clinic and maybe they might even have some resources for a rabies vaccine surely not at the clinic but maybe they can help me somehow wishful thinking. and then after the clinic we're going to celebrate halloween at my place so big day he forced me off the phone cause i was still hysterical. but he actually texted me back for a while which he never does when we get off the phone for the night. but i was still texting after he finished responding and i finally gave him the good news which i'm not sure that he was totally aware of cause he only heard my side of the conversation when i was on the phone with him while talking to the animal control guy, so i put into plain words how he said he'd request tnr and the hopeful declaration that maybe he'll just bounce back from the trauma before too long. and then i realized. i told my partner i was going to take him to meet the kitty tomorrow morning when he came over for halloween. but now he won't get to meet the kitty bc i'll certainly be moved before the kitty gets released.

and then i smoked a cigarette that i found on the ground recently. i haven't smoked a cigarette in over a year and at that point it was already rare that i smoked. that realization really made an already brutal day even worse. it like punched me in the face.

[akulride]

Adventure Tourer Bikes, Cruiser Bikes, Off Road Bikes Petrol Single cylinder, 4 Stroke, Liquid Cooled, DOHC 30.2 PS @ 8000 rpm Whiteout ₹ 2,19,942Sports Naked Bikes, Sports Bikes Petrol Liquid Cooled, Triple Spark, 4-Valve FI DTS-i 6-speed 24.5 PS @ 9750 rpm Glossy Ebony Black, Metallic Pearl White, Cocktail Wine Red - White, White, Pewter Grey - Blue ₹1,49,363

[slutla]

warnings: slightly nsfw, breast fondling, reader has sensitive nipples, bathing together, established relationships, mark grayson, suggestive but not any actual penetration. fem! reader. usage of pet names. body worship kinda. fluff.

an: minors n allat dni. i’ve been busy lately so consider this a filler post for now :3 i’ll b back soon tho trust

The water sloshes, licking at porcelain as you shift, easing back until your spine meets the warmth of his chest. It’s a squeeze, his body takes up most of the tub but you fold yourself into the space like you belong there, legs brushing his. Bubbles cling to your skin in soft, quiet clusters, catching light, catching breath.

He looks down at you, small and soft between his thighs, spine arched just right. Your ass rests where it fits too perfectly, breasts rising all delicate and proud with each breath. There’s a smile tugging at his mouth—lazy, fond. The water is hot, steam curling into the air like breath, thick with the hush of lavender.

“Mark, can you wash my hair?” you say, voice flat, no question in it, more command than request. No sugarcoating it. He was already planning to anyway.

He’s quick with it, no hesitation. Palms slick with too much shampoo, bubbles frothed between his fingers as he leans in, working it into your scalp. His touch stays focused at first—slow, methodical—like he’s trying to memorize every strand on your perfect little head. Fingers move with quiet intent, circling your scalp just right.

You sigh, eyes fluttering shut, warm and satisfied, letting him take care of you. You figure you could fall asleep like this; his fingers dragging lazy circles through your hair, the rhythm slow and lulling. Your back is bare against his chest, solid and burning-warm, muscle and skin pressed close like he’s trying to mold around you. Everything smells like lavender and steam and him.

But then his hands drift. Absent-minded, like they’ve forgotten where they’re supposed to stop—sliding down the nape of your neck, skimming your throat, tracing the soft line of your collarbones. Then lower… fingers ghosting across your breasts, unhurried.

His hands cup your tits, tender and slick, water beading over them like you’re made of something delicate.

“Mark…?” you say, mock suspicion in your voice. Not cautious—curious. Like, where exactly is this going?

He grins, all lazy charm. “What?” he says, innocent as sin. “I’m just tryna wash ’em for you, baby.”

They’re heavy in his hands, water trickling down their curves like liquid diamonds, catching the dim light. They’re pretty, real pretty and you know it. So does Mark. The way his eyes darken, the way his thumbs start to move in slow, deliberate circles, tells you everything.

He drags the last of the soap across your chest, rough palms kneading gently, pulling a gasp from your lips. The water trembles, ripples fanning out as you jolt under his touch.

His fingers don’t stop, working in a quiet rhythm, circling your nipples, now hard and aching beneath the slip of soap. “They’re so perfect,” he mutters, voice low, like he’s talking more to himself than you. You squirm, thighs pressing together beneath the water, trying to keep it together—but it’s no use.

His thumbs flick your peaks again—teasing. A soft moan spills from your mouth, raw, helpless. You feel his chest rumble against your back, a quiet laugh that says he’s loving this.

You roll your eyes, annoyed. “Y’know ‘s not funny, at all. You’re gonna lose privileges.”

He leans in a little closer, his breath against your cheek, playful and warm. “Privileges, huh?” His voice is teasing, but there’s something deeper laced into it—something that makes your heart trip.

“What kind of privileges are we talking about?”

You can practically feel the smirk on his lips without looking. That mix of cocky and sweet that drives you a little mad. You turn, just enough to meet his eyes.

“The kind you definitely don’t want to lose,” you murmur, tone still playful—but there’s weight behind it now. Something unspoken, soft and electric between you both.

[cutiepieautistic]

Glaggleland economy hyperinflation stimboard

×/×/× ×/× ×/×/×

[fangswbenefits]

Book

Summary: Astarion comes across an interesting book and decides to share the knowledge with you. Quite literally.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Breeding kink. P in V. Vampire bite. Blood drinking. Creampie. Overestimulation. Cumplay.

Word count: 1.7k

It wasn't unusual for you to find yourself on your back, knees bent and legs spread apart as Astarion's hand worked diligently in between them.

“You know… I came across this book in Rivington."

Two fingers rubbed slow yet measured circles between your slick folds. His dexterity truly shined through in these moments, as he lured you closer and closer to the edge of your sanity.

“A book?” 

“A most interesting book.”

His lips pressed lingering kisses across the exposed side of your neck, and you struggled to keep your eyes fixed on his hand.

He adored it when you watched him deliver unprecedented pleasure, and the sight was positively maddening with your wetness coating both his fingers as lewd sounds echoed in your ears.

The cluster of pillows strategically placed behind you aided you to take in the view more clearly, and you couldn't help but moan softly.

Suddenly, you jolted at the feeling of one fang raking across your sensitive skin. “What of it?”

“Do you really want to know, darling?”

His purring voice alone could edge you so effectively that you had to grip the bedsheets under you, balling your fists and silently praying to the gods above to help you stay grounded.

“Yes…” you moaned, eyes nearly fluttering shut.

Astarion quickly bfound your pulse point and planted an open-mouthed kiss.

Just bite me… 

That would surely be your undoing, but he merely chuckled and you felt him smile.

“It spoke of dhampirs - half-vampires.”

Gods…

The implication that dangled from his silky words wasn't particularly subtle and you found yourself clenching around nothing.

“It is not an easy feat, but with the right amount of dedication and… perseverance,” he punctuated each word with a roll of his fingers, drawing soft whimpers from you. “... I'm quite certain we can explore it.”

You clenched again, and your legs faltered, almost dropping from the chill that ran down your spine.

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “No, no, my sweet. Keep your focus and your legs up high for me.”

Astarion thrived on your pleasure and basked in your praises.

He was good.

He knew he was good.

And he wanted you to show him.

Stroking his ego was a sure way to get his complete devotion.

The throbbing between your legs intensified tenfold and you could see it swollen and peeking through your folds as he dragged his drenched fingers all the way up to your lower abdomen.

“What do you say?” He purred in your ear, massaging you tenderly.

Another agonising clench.

You parted your lips in search of a reply, but the words died in your mouth at the sight of his fingers spreading your wetness across your skin.

“Well? Will you let me breed you?”

His crude words had you gripping the fabric in your hands tighter, and you wondered how much longer until it finally tore.

“Astarion…”

Slowly but surely, you felt something prickling at the skin on the back of your hand.

It was slightly cool and you needn't need to look to know his cock was leaking precum.

Just for you.

The liquid began dribbling down your skin as he began pressing soft kisses along your jawline.

Silently, he grabbed your hand until your fingers instinctively wrapped around his hardening cock.

And then he hissed.

“Tighter,” he urged, placing his hand atop yours to squeeze down hard. “You're tighter than this…” he finished with a sigh.

This time, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut as you rolled your hips in desperation.

He fucked your hand slowly, occasionally bringing your thumb to swipe across his tip, earning delicious and urgent moans from him.

Your breathing quickened and you felt the mattress shift under you as he carefully slid his cock from your grip, positioning himself on top of you.

“Eyes on me.”

You took a deep and shaky breath and your gaze dropped to witness an elegant finger disappear inside you.

A swift gasp escaped your throat and you couldn't stop yourself from clenching around him.

The corner of his mouth quirked up in an approving smile. “So eager…”

You were mesmerised by how he so easily slid a second one, the wet sounds nearly doing it for you.

He shifted until his cool lips were on yours, nipping at the lower one with the razor-like fang, easily drawing blood and gently suckling on the bruised flesh. 

Your back arched when he removed both fingers from you before pressing his cock at your entrance.

By this point, you were too soaked to offer any resistance as he slowly sank into you.

You broke the kiss first, greedily looking in between your bodies just so you could watch his cock slide in and out, bulging veins glistening with your wetness.

“Enjoying the view, darling?”

You bit down on your lip, tasting your own blood as you nodded through half-hooded eyes. 

Countless sweet rolls of his hips pushed you further and further along the inevitable precipice, and the familiar coiling and throbbing had your mouth drop open, unable to rein in your spilling whimpers.

He dipped his head to glide his tongue across your lower lip, both his arms caging you in and allowing him to angle his hips so he could sink fully into you.

You were visibly pulsing, your folds parted slightly, and his gaze soon followed yours.

A guttural grunt rumbled in his throat. “Let go, darling… and let me feel you tightening around me.”

You gripped his arms, bracing yourself for the impending wave of overwhelming bliss that took over your entire body, and through gasps and pants and moans, you plunged down the spiral of bliss.

A distant groan from Astarion was heard as your vision blurred, powerful contractions rippling through your lower half.

He was mumbling something, but you couldn't make out a single word, far too lost in your high to focus on anything else.

You felt his lips on your neck and you threw your head back, offering it fully to him.

As the waves of your contractions finally subsided, you came back to your senses, trying hard to even out your laboured breathing.

He was still buried deep inside you.

Had he come with you?

The answer came when his fangs began prodding the skin along your pulse point, as if barely containing himself.

He had yet to reach his peak.

“Can you give me another one?”

Your eyes widened and you struggled to form coherent words. “I… I don't… know.”

He brought one hand to grip your knee, pushing your leg against your torso, and spreading you further apart for him.

The pace he had set was contained and slow, a constant reminder that he yearned for his own release.

His tongue darted out to swipe across your flushed skin, and you turned your head, granting him easier access.

“Use your words.”

You swallowed, gasping from how oversensitive you suddenly felt from the constant friction in between your legs.

“Please…” you could only bring yourself to plead. 

His fangs taunted the fragile barrier of your skin, but not with enough pressure to draw blood.

“Use. Your. Words.” He rasped impatiently, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips.

You brought your hands to his chest, feeling the taut muscles tense under your touch. 

“Bite me…”

The sharp sting had you grip him hard, his hardened nipples digging into the palms of your hands.

As soon as he got to control the flow of your blood, he quickly matched the rolls of his hips with each mouthful of warm liquid he downed.

Your senses were full of him.

Filled with him.

Dragging on hand to settle on his throat, you moaned as you felt him under your palm, eagerly swallowing your blood.

It didn't take long before his skin began to heat up against yours, and you could almost swear you felt his cock hardening even more inside you.

His pace didn't falter. If anything, he was simply indulging in the newfound vigour that only your blood coursing through his body could provide.

Wanting to further tease him, you circled his nipple with the pad of your thumb, earning an approving grunt.

The crescendo of pleasure began to throb deep within you with each passing moment, and you felt him take one of your hands in his, dragging it down to settle where his body connected with yours.

He slid out just enough for your fingers to trace along the bulging and pulsing veins that slithered around his cock.

He quickly withdrew from your neck with a low, rumbling groan, his handsome face hovering yours, droplets of blood dripping from his lips onto yours, which you quickly swiped clean with your tongue, tasting the metallic aftertaste.

You kept teasing his nipple, feeding your own pleasure from how responsive he was.

Astarion was about to come undone, and you realised that having your blood dripping down his chin and neck, was enough to catapult you steadily yet rapidly into the heights of your own pleasure.

Your eyes watched his face twist beautifully as he reached his peak, mouth dropping agape in a raging growl that made you shudder.

Under the touch of your fingers, you felt the underside of his cock spasm rhythmically as he emptied himself inside you.

It was too much.

You felt some of his cum overflowing and staining your fingers, and you immediately dragged them to the pulsing swell between your folds, coating it in the warm liquid and gasping as the violent wave of bliss had you contracting around him.

Astarion buried his face in the crook of your neck as he cursed and whimpered and pleaded for you to have mercy on him.

You truly wished you could grant him such relief, but you were far too gone to be of any comfort as both of you rode out your peak.

With a final grunt from him and a moan from you, he slumped against you, cock still buried deep.

You pressed a hand to the back of his head, slipping your fingers along his damp and soft curls, cradling him in your embrace.

“Just so we're clear,” you began in between pants. “What are the chances of this actually happening?”

He didn't reply right away, instead pressing his lips to the bite marks on your neck, cleaning up the mess.

“Not that high, I reckon?” You managed to chuckle, raking your fingers along his scalp.

“Not high at all.”

Just as you had suspected.

“But we're so used to turning the impossible into possible, that I can't see why this should be any different.”

Oh.

Oh.

A/N: I'm... sorry.... hahaha

Masterlist

[frostgears]

gardening

you did something stupid and now you're here in your itchy twice-a-year dress uniform in this bright busy room in the regimental HQ trying to figure out if you're going to be yelled at, shot, or promoted. the room's full of folding chairs. apparently not enough furniture in here normally to contain all the suits and all the brass.

your "ops coordinator" ("we don't say 'handler', grunt, it gives the civilians weird ideas") got pulled off for a side conversation two minutes after you got here and you haven't seen her since. you're looking anywhere for a familiar face. you're coming up empty. at least the woman next to you looks equally stressed. she must be civvie, some consultant or other; soft face, masses of curly hair. she's wearing a blazer and slacks with big round dataframes.

"hey," you elbow her. "what are you in for?"

"gods above and below." she sighs. "everything. but today mostly Neryx-9."

"the ag research station. you were there?"

"hardly," she says. "just came up on my huge list of problems."

"creepy shit. i was front and center for it…"

she cocks her head to listen. you explain.

Neryx-9 had been a cluster of greenhouses on the surface. supposed to be vacant, powered down — actually they'd said "mothballed", then looked at you like you were stupid when you asked what a moth was and what they did with their balls. but not vacant. far from it. you went in with a miniframe. first thing you found was the bodies of the grid authority techs that had called it in. purple mold already growing over them.

"it was wrong," you tell her. "not like that white stuff you get when an open nutripak sits in the fridge too long. i mean, i don't know if that would have been better. i just, i don't know, i didn't want to get any of that stuff on me. frame or no. maybe there was some already on me, but didn't want to get it on anyone else. so i backed out, sat in the airlock, thought about calling for extraction. thought better. backed to the wall, cycled my flight jets until it was starting to get warm even inside the frame, thought maybe i'd cook it off me. my ha– ops coordinator asked me what the fuck i was doing. snapped me out of it, i told her, i need fire. incendiaries."

they'd found them, somewhere. support rigged another airlock outside of the main airlock after you'd yelled at them to keep that shit inside. a miniframe-scale plasma cutter for outside construction work, and some purpose-built low-velocity liquid pyrophoric agent rockets.

the woman in the blazer made a face. "we just have those sitting around?"

"starship boarding actions. when we don't want to breach the hull but we do want to use all the oxygen. splashes around, gets everywhere, but nowhere near hot enough to melt anything structural. only used 'em in sims, of course, not like we get a lot of star traffic. horrorshow shit. or i thought it was, before this."

the outside airlock door opened and you'd taken up what they'd brought you.

you stepped over the bodies of the grid techs into hell. purple and orange jungle everywhere. insane external humidity and particle count. dome after hallway after dome of the shit, growing over the grow lights, growing up the walls, into the vents. you could feel it through your frame, through your suit. it was hungry. it wanted in.

"ma'am, compared to that feeling, that pressure, the first giant critter trying to eat my frame was a relief."

six thick legs, triangular jaws, scales and plates all over, massive paddle tail. it had reared out of a pond and tried to drag you back in with it. it wasn't as heavy as you, maybe, but it was mad as hell and a fast mover, and fuck, what right had anything like that to exist in an abandoned greenhouse? you knew you didn't want to be in that filthy water. who knew how deep it was? it'd clog your exhaust, choke your radiators. you twisted around as best you could in its grip, armed your wrist weapon, and blasted a thousand flechettes directly into its face.

"and that stopped it?"

"well, wasn't much left to be stopped, but yeah. and that's when i found it that it had friends and they could smell blood in the water."

she wrinkled her nose in a way that was either a dataframe input gesture or genuine surprise.

"why not just depressurize the domes, at this point?"

"thought about it. i had breaching charges. but… like i said, this stuff felt like it shouldn't get out. there's not much out there, yeah, but i just couldn't. and i had the cutter, and the rockets. so i decided to make it too hot on the shore for them to get me so easy."

you'd turned the artificial jungle into curtains of flame. the big creatures dove back into the water, giving you a narrow path to keep going. in the burning canopy, smaller things flared and dropped; you hadn't seen them moving until they died.

your handler had been screaming at you to get clear, get back to the airlock, but the flames made that a losing proposition. so you kept going in. Neryx-9 was roughly linear. there was another lock on the far side.

"past the labs, it turned out. and maybe some of those corpses in there had been growing these things, but it looked like the shit got away from them and was growing on them. there were these ribbons of orange moss, growing everywhere, out of containers, branching into foam and fabric and dead flesh — i tried to pull it off someone, before i realized they were all dead, and their skin came off in sheets, brown-black and full of tiny holes. charred, but not. think it was acid."

"something like a lichen."

"yeah, maybe? i learned about those in school. you can see 'em out the windows in a lot of places. they grow on rock, right?"

"they do," she says. "useful. so what did you do then?"

"i set the cutter to max spread and i torched a path through to the far airlock. and i don't mind saying, when i noticed the cutter battery and gas cylinder were doing okay, i started spreading it around a lot more. i just. i had to burn it."

"happens that was the right move," she said. "good instinct."

"please tell me someone did something about that shit."

"well," she smiled, "there's you. you know, you're refreshingly simple. like a cat that somehow had the sense to eat an invasive lizard. and since you didn't drag the bits all over, i tasked a solarsat to finish the job. can't beat a pass with an X-ray cloudpiercer beam for that kind of cleanup."

she wrinkles her nose again, and the general murmuring of a dozen conversations in the room changes as people look to the main wall display, which now shows a collection of greenhouse domes sagging as if collapsed by an invisible weight. the rock under them begins to glow.

"what's a cat?" you blurt out, before the words "i tasked a solarsat" have a chance to sink in. like, her, personally?

"an animal. a dumb little predator that associates with humans. from Terra, way before the Catastrophe. we're not ready for them just yet, but maybe someday."

a door opens to your side, and you both turn to see your handler, looking about at the end of her rope, and next to her, her boss, the major, who reports directly to the colonel.

"shit, there you are. look. you're gonna have to answer some questions. and it's not guaranteed you're going down for this, not yet, so just be honest, but for fuck's sake be brief, don't try to understand or interpret—"

both of their faces blanch. like, almost completely bloodless. eyes wide.

the curly-haired woman in the blazer smiles widely. "don't worry," she tells them, "she already did. she's been very helpful. in fact, i think i might like to keep her." she puts a hand on your knee.

"i'm not sure i understand, ma'am?"

"pilot," the major says, "is there a reason you've been occupying the time of the Director of Planetary Ecology? the woman who keeps this entire planet breathing oxygen and eating something other than rocks?"

and now your face must be bloodless too. the DPE? even you know that position. but you can't remember ever seeing a photo.

"oh, she was just telling me how she improvised containment protocols to prevent someone's experiment with Araukan imports from getting out of hand. clever girl. or lucky, at least."

you risk a glance to your side. she's still smiling. the woman who can steer any bioscience research on this planet, cut off power and water and air to anything she deems anathema to the coming ecosystem, commandeer keystone orbital infrastructure and burn habitats like you burned trees.

"i don't think we can possibly say no, Director," your handler says, carefully.

"no," the Director agrees. "you can't." □

[squishsquishy]

My Melody Smartphone Charm (Dreaming Angel Series)

x/x/x x/x/x x/x/x

[rioromanoffroses]

Ovulation (Part 2)

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, G!P Natasha, finger sucking, oral sex (R and Natasha receiving), implied non-con, unprotected sex (P in V), breast sucking, degrading, toxic relationship, obsessive Natasha, jealousy and slight possessiveness

Summary: It's been three months since your heated encounter with the Black Widow. When your paths cross again at a work party, it doesn't take much for both of you to crack...

Pairings: dom!Reader x sub!Natasha but they switch halfway through

WC: 5.7k

It was just like any other S.H.I.E.L.D. party you had attended many times before but you decided to dress like a slut anyway.

You were wearing all black, brightened by gold jewellery that gleamed whenever a streak of light hit the metal. Your lacy corset was mostly hidden by your cropped blazer and your tight, formal trousers outlined your curves, your outfit finished by formidable, 6-inch heels. 

It was three months since you’d last seen Natasha Romanoff but it had felt like so much longer. She had left while you were still asleep — the only evidence of her departure had been the lipstick stain on your forehead.

You made sure you were wearing the same lipstick shade that night and the most dramatic eye look you had ever done. Three months was a long time for resentment and rage to grow and evolve.

There was no guarantee Natasha would even be at the party. You didn’t recall seeing Natasha at one before. But for some reason, there was a nagging feeling in your gut that insisted you’d see her. She’d see you; in the outfit you’d picked out for her. 

As soon as you walked into the party, you noticed several eyes lingering on your figure. The room was dark, lit only by violet ceiling lights. There were clusters of agents everywhere and the dance floor was relatively empty, the night still too young and the people still too sober.

You spotted one of your friends by the bar and strode over to her, your heels echoing against the marble floor. 

“Hey Maria,” you said, taking a seat next to her. Her eyes widened when she saw you. 

“Oh my God, what are you wearing?” You had always been on the reserved side in front of your colleagues, even though your style had always been quite bold and formal, so your new look was a slight shock to her. “Is that top see-through?”

“Everywhere except the chest area, yeah,” you said, turning to the bartender, “I’d like a glass of champagne, please.” He nodded and began preparing your drink. Maria sighed.

“You’d better avoid Fury like the plague,” she said, “This is a work party, you do realise that?” You knew it wasn’t an appropriate place to look so provocative but you hadn’t been thinking straight for months. Natasha had been on your mind non-stop and like a drug, you were craving her and burning for a high that would rid you of your withdrawal symptoms.

The bartender placed the glass of champagne in front of you and you carefully took a sip, making sure the liquid didn’t disturb your lipstick.

Maria took a sip from her glass before spotting something behind you and her jaw dropped. She quickly drained the glass and scrambled to her feet, causing you to frown. “Are you okay?”

“She looks pissed,” she said, dragging out the ‘i’ vowel, “And I am not getting involved. Have a good night.” She gave you a quick tap on the shoulder before hurrying away while you were still processing her words. You were about to call after Maria until a voice sounded behind you and your heartbeat ceased. 

“God, I’m going to kill you.” You snapped your head around and stared at the redhead, blinking a few times to make sure she was real. Her hair was curled onto her bare shoulders, the red, satin straps of her dress tight across her arm muscles and chest, allowing some of her breasts to spill over the material.

Part of you wanted to slap her across the face… another part of you wanted to kiss her right there and then. You raised an eyebrow.

“And what would call for such unnecessary violence, Agent Romanoff?” She grabbed your wrist, sinking her sharp, scarlet nails into your skin. Despite the thumping, irregular beat of your heart, you stood your ground and didn’t break eye contact with her as her eyes burnt right into your skull. 

She leaned forward and whispered into your ear, “That wasn’t the name you were screaming a few months ago.” From the corner of your eye, you could see Natasha’s pupils darkening. “I’m going to kill you for thinking of this outfit, deciding to wear it and letting half this room stare at you with it on.”

She tried to pull you onto your feet but you didn’t budge. You took a sip of your champagne, looking up at her through your eyelashes. 

“What’s wrong with my outfit?” you mocked, your tone of feigned innocence, “You don’t like it?” Natasha clenched her fists and scowled. 

“When did you become such a smart-ass?” You smirked, taking another sip of alcohol. You had become as soft as unheated clay the last time you were together and you had let her mould you into whatever she wanted.

That night, you were on fire, and your silhouette was shaped exactly how you liked it — how it was before your first encounter. “I don’t like you looking like a whore when you’re mine.”

“Oh, I’m yours, am I?” you snapped, “I didn’t get that impression when I woke up to an empty bed stained with your bodily fluids. I didn’t get that impression after not hearing from you for months.”

You turned your body away from her and tilted back your head, the remaining champagne running down the glass and into your mouth. As soon as you set the glass down, you felt Natasha’s hand on your jaw, forcing you to look at her. 

“I didn’t want to leave like that,” she said, her voice becoming serious, “It’s complicated.” She hesitated. “Do you know who I am?” You smiled. You were stupid not to realise it until Maria told you, after you confessed to having slept with a fellow agent.

Natasha was the Black Widow, the most formidable S.H.I.E.L.D. agent there was. You wondered if knowing her identity earlier would’ve changed anything. Perhaps you wouldn’t have been so reckless in the shower. Perhaps you wouldn’t have stared at her like a fool. Perhaps you wouldn’t have spread your legs for her.

“I don’t care if you’re the Black Widow, Natasha,” you said, “You left me. That’s the only thing I care about.” You pushed her arm away, forcing her to let go of your face. Natasha’s expression fell. She reached for your fingers and brushed her own against them, sending goosebumps down your arm. 

“Let me make it up to you.” You looked down at where your skin made contact before switching your focus to her face. You knew she was a woman of many masks but she seemed genuinely apologetic.

You were undeniably angry with her still but your need was too strong and from the sound of her short, sharp breaths, you knew she was feeling the same. You slipped off the bar stool and took a step towards her so you were less than an inch apart. 

“Don’t make me regret this, Romanoff.” You spun around and started to march towards the door, the crowd parting like the red sea as soon as they saw the Black Widow behind you. You were too far in front for her to touch you without being obvious about it but you could hear each beat of her footsteps. 

You decided to play into your wrath and aggravate Natasha; she deserved it. It would be fun. Your teasing started as soon as the taxi drew up on the pavement and you opened the door for her, wordlessly instructing her to get in first with your eyes.

On the drive there, you pretended to adjust your bra strap, moving it just enough so Natasha could catch a glimpse of the vibrant red colour. You did it more than once, just enough times to piss her off.

You were enjoying the game and kept it going, leaning forward between the two seats and flirting with the taxi driver. The compromising position meant your breasts were pressed together slightly, making your cleavage more noticeable.

The driver was struggling to keep his eyes on the road and as uncomfortable as it made you feel, as soon as you saw Natasha’s eyes in the rearview mirror, you knew it was totally worth it. Her pupils were on fire.

By the time you had shut the door of the hurriedly booked motel room, you could see sweat on her forehead and her breath was heavy, like an animal being driven by primal desire. She pushed you against the wood before you could even turn on a light, sending a shot of pain down your spine and you had to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from whining.

You knew what she wanted. You weren’t going to give in to her just yet. You had a queen firmly clutched in your hands and she was still gliding across the chest board under your will and control. 

Natasha tried to kiss you but you stopped her with your finger on her chin, moving your other hand to her thigh. She pressed into you more urgently, your chests touching, your foreheads only inches apart. Her hands were on your hips, her nails digging into the material of your trousers. 

You inhaled sharply when you felt her against your lower stomach. She heard the difference in your breath and she started to move her hands, massaging your sides in slow circles. She wanted to see how long it would take for you to give in; Natasha wanted to know what your weakness was.

You couldn’t see her in the dark, amplifying the sensation of her touch and you could feel your control slip from your fingers but you caught it just before it was lost. 

“Was that all I had to do?” you mocked, scratching her chin with the edge of your nail, “Look pretty and say some nice words to the driver?”

Your hand drifted in between her legs and up her dress so you could feel just how hard she was and emphasise your point. You let out a low whistle when you felt the wet patch on her boxers. “Slut.”

Natasha pushed away from the door, your heart pounding in your ears, and strode towards the bedside table lamp. The light cast an amber glow onto the furniture, exposing the off-whites and beiges of the cheap room. It was better than the place you’d been together in Moldova but it was still small and underwhelming. 

You were distracted from the room as soon as your eyes fell on Natasha again. There was a reason you had fallen so easily the first night you’d met.

You had rejected the most important part of yourself, your dignity, partly because of your raging hormones but mostly because of her: the venom of her eyes, the blood of her hair, the skull-white of her skin carved by Lucifer himself. Her looks were only the surface, though — the deeper you dived, the faster you drowned. 

The sight of you had a similar effect on her and a few seconds passed in silence without a single movement between you. You were both in a trance, your eyes taking each other in the privacy of the room.

You were alone; it made you vulnerable to each other. Natasha already knew you were becoming a weak spot and if you’d been less self-driven, it would’ve dawned on you too. 

She was the first one to move, the electricity between you weak against the current of her desire. She sat on the edge of the bed and let her dress ride up her thighs, exposing the black of her boxers. You strode towards Natasha, looking down at her, and you slipped your blazer off your shoulders, letting it fall onto the carpet. 

You stopped in between her legs, capturing her face in your hands, your fingertips touching her scalp. She leaned back on one arm, wrapping a hand around your wrist, not breaking away from your gaze. 

“You’re right,” she said, “I am a slut. And so would anyone if they’d been allowed to touch you.” You traced your thumb along her jaw and then along her bottom lip before pushing it into her mouth. ‘This is so much more fun,’ you thought, ‘why didn’t I try this before?’ Your walls weren’t going to be so easy to knock down that time. 

Her tongue pressed against the tip of your thumb and when you dragged it out of her mouth down her chin, it left a trail of spit on her bottom lip, quickening your pulse even more.

The sight of Natasha below you, her face a mess, started feeding into your own twisted desires. You could feel the heat building between your thighs and the cool air was a relief against the beads of sweat forming on your arm. 

“The Black Widow, huh?” you said. Red pricked her cheeks like a thorn and you knew if she wasn’t so desperate to be inside of you, your neck would be in the chokehold of her bare hands.

She was more skilled than you; she was stronger too. She could kill you at any given moment… yet she was letting you have power over her. 

“Bitch,” she muttered. You straddled Natasha’s lap and wrapped your legs tightly around her waist to keep yourself firmly in place.

As soon as your lips touched, it was like your muscle memory and body took over, suppressing your logical thoughts. She grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you closer, slamming your lips together. 

You forgot about the game and your confidence, the chess board falling to the floor and you held her face so you could kiss her more harshly. You were swallowing each other’s moans, the months of tension and pent-up emotions spilling like blood from a wound. You had only spent two nights together but you had missed her more than any of your exes, even more than some of your old friends.

Your lips separated for only half a second at a time so you could take a breath and change the angle. Her back fell against the sheets as your legs loosened, your kisses growing more desperate.

Your tongue dove into Natasha’s mouth and you almost let her win against you until you noticed the intensity of her moans and the movement of your hips. You had been so lost in kissing her you hadn’t realised that you were grinding against her subtly — just enough to worsen her hard-on. You ripped your lips away from hers when you felt her fingers on the buttons of your trousers.

“No,” you said, stopping her movements, a smirk forming on your face. She whined. 

“Please,” she said. She looked up at you through her eyelashes and you could feel her trembling beneath you, her sweat forming tears that ran down her face. “Please just let me fuck you.” Natasha would never admit it to anyone but she’d touched herself while thinking of you ever since she’d seen your photos in the mission brief. It had been easy to get relief before she’d actually met you and slept with you. 

Following the mission, she hadn’t been able to release at all, not by her own hands, toys or even the few women she’d had a one-night stand with in an attempt to get you off her mind. You were the only thing she thought about some days. She couldn’t wait much longer; she had needed you for months; she had ached for you night after endless night. 

You sat on top of her like she was a podium with a shit-eating grin on your face. You had gotten Natasha so wound up that she was begging you. You couldn’t smell a single trace of alcohol on her lips, meaning she was sober and her words were her own.

You leaned down and nudged your mouth against the shell of her, arching your back to make sure she had a clear view of your ass. 

“You want my cunt?” you said into her ear, tightening your grip around her squirming fingers. 

“I need it,” she breathed, turning her head towards you, connecting your lips for a brief second. You didn’t return the kiss, moving away from her instead.

You sat up, shifting to the centre of the bed and relaxed against the pillows behind you, spreading your legs. 

You gave her a show as you watched her panting form, unbuttoning your trousers slowly and shimmering out of the black material. You threw them to the floor before hooking two fingers under the red of your panties, the colour matching your bra.

“Don’t you dare move.” As you dragged your lacy underwear down your thighs, her pupils widened, the black in her eyes like obsidian. Natasha could see that you were dripping and the sight of your slicked folds and porcelain-stained thighs caused the rope in her stomach to tighten into a knot. 

As soon as the red underwear was on the floor, you started touching your stiff clit just so she could watch your arousal spill onto the sheets beneath you. Natasha’s hands tightened into fists, her gaze fixated on your slit. She swallowed hard. 

“Make me feel good,” you said. She crawled towards you without hesitation, diving into your pussy like she was starved. You moaned as soon as her tongue pressed against your warm, soaked folds and your nerves buzzed with adrenaline as she dragged the muscle all the way up to your clit.

She wrapped her mouth around your sensitive bud and you guided her hands to your thighs before lying back on the sheets, allowing yourself to concentrate on your body’s reactions. 

You lifted your legs onto her shoulders to give her more access and bit down on your lip as her mouth continued to work your pussy, not wanting to expose how she was making you feel just yet.

It was a pathetic facade, though — Natasha could tell how much you loved her tongue from the amount of arousal that flooded her throat. A bubble began to form around you as her movements sped up, cutting off the outside world and lifting you off the ground, far away from reality. 

You had tried to convince yourself to hate her during the weeks following the night she abandoned you. You knew it was irrational deep down — you understood the nature of your jobs.

You knew her position as well — it was bigger than yours and she was responsible for more. Her past wasn’t a secret either and although yours had its fair share of trauma, it had affected you differently. You had failed to hate her; it was impossible.

You reached for Natasha’s head and pushed it further into your folds, finally letting a moan slip past your lips as she slid her tongue inside of you.

You started to grind against her face and her groans sent vibrations through your cunt, heightening the pleasure building in your stomach. You looked down to admire the sight of her face buried in your thighs and you noticed the movements of her hips against the mattress. She was so, so desperate for relief.  

As your orgasm approached, you moved your hands into her hair, tightening your grip on her curls as you came undone, gasping and repeating her name as your release gushed into her mouth and spilled over her lips.

You let go and your limbs slumped onto the sheets, your heaving breasts straining against your bra, your corset top soaked with sweat. 

“I want you to get undressed,” you said in between gasps. Natasha lifted herself from between your legs and shot you a dark look. You could see the moment she snapped.

“If one more word comes out of that pretty mouth of yours, I’m going to wrap my hand around your throat until you pass out.” Your eyes widened at the sudden change in her demeanour. Natasha wasn’t following your rules anymore; she had reached a breaking point.

She seized your hips and dragged you onto her lap, letting you feel the outline of her straining cock against your cunt. Your mind raced with things to say; you wanted to fight and keep taunting her but you were craving her too.

No one had ever compared to her and if it hadn’t been so arousing to tease her, you would’ve let her fill you up as soon as the door closed. 

She untied your top and threw it behind her without caring where it landed before ripping the bra you had teased her with in the taxi in two. You gasped but before you could recover from your shock, her fingers were squeezing your nipples and the bubble around you was rising into the clouds again. You were both fucking insane.

“Such a stupid slut,” Natasha spat and before your desire-drunk mind could process what was happening, she was guiding your hand to her cock and moving it up and down. You looked down to see the reddened tip spilling with pre-cum, her dick angry and aching. “This is what you’ve done to me. You’ve fucking ruined me.” And she had every intent of ruining you in return.

She knew it would be better for her to stop and breathe but the redhead wasn’t in control anymore. She had liked sex with different people before you; she had enjoyed touching herself but you had taken that from her. You had also ignited feelings that she had suppressed and had made her question too much at once. They were questions Natasha refused to think about. 

She lifted you from her lap and positioned you above her cock, the tip nudging against your entrance, which was still sensitive from your orgasm, before pushing in. You both cried out at the same time, your voice a mix of pain and ecstasy.

Your walls immediately began sucking Natasha in as you sank further and further onto her length. You gripped her shoulders as you watched her disappear inside you, your mouth stuck in an ‘O’ shape as she filled you completely. 

The stretch was almost as uncomfortable as the first time, reminding you how long it had been. You thought about having to wait for months before seeing Natasha again sent a pang through you. You didn’t know how you’d get through it — you were already growing dependent on Natasha. It was pathetic. You hated yourself for it. 

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” Natasha said as she started to bounce you up and down on her cock without giving you a moment to adjust. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you moved your hips in time with hers, your tits bouncing with each thrust.

She buried her face between them to try and stifle her moans but it was no use. Anyone in the rooms next to you or above you would be able to hear but neither of you had any thoughts left to spare. 

The bubble had soared above the atmosphere and there were stars streaked across your vision, the light intensifying as Natasha continued to pump inside of you. She lifted her head and collided your lips together with a bruising force, her teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

You could still taste yourself on her tongue as she delved deeper into your mouth, not letting you win against her that time. There was a metallic sting against your tongue as her teeth punctured your lip and drew blood.

Your head was dizzy with lust and bliss; your vision blurred with tears as you were overwhelmed by the sensations of her. You didn’t understand how or why she felt so good but you knew you’d do anything she asked if it meant she’d keep fucking you. She separated your lips and started peppering your jaw with kisses, your nails clawing down her clothed back as she continued to forcefully drill into you.

The blood from your lip dribbled down your chin and ended up smeared over your face as Natasha kissed down your neck, pausing against your sweet spot. She sunk her teeth into your neck and sucked on the skin, forcing a cry from your lips. 

“How the fuck does this cunt stay so tight?” she groaned against your skin. Your head fell back as her mouth moved to your collarbone and she marked you again, her tongue cooling against the scorching skin. 

“Please, Natasha,” you whined, “Don’t stop.” The stars dancing along your vision shifted into a kaleidoscope, the colours disorientating and bright, the shapes blurring at the edges. You had broken her demand not to speak but she dismissed it when your walls clenched around her, causing her to practically scream. 

Her hands slowed down their rhythm so she could sink deeper inside of you, hitting that specific spot that caused the pockets of white in front of you to spin impossibly faster.

She was met with no resistance as she slid in and out of your fluttering walls, the movement made easy by the arousal gushing out from your entrance. The wet sounds of your cunt echoed through the room every time your thighs met with hers, the noise drowned out by your loud moans. 

Each time her tip brushed against that one place inside you, your cunt squeezed her tight and you could tell by the erratic timing of her hips that she was getting close. As soon as you felt Natasha’s thighs shaking beneath you, the stars in your eyes burst, sending hot sparks flying through your veins, the heat setting the end of your nerves on fire.

She followed immediately after you, releasing inside of you in waves as she screamed your name. She didn’t stop bouncing you on her dick until you slumped against her shoulders, crushed beneath the weight of your orgasm. 

You lifted yourself from her softening cock and moved to the centre of the bed, lowering yourself onto your back. You hooked your hands underneath your knees and pulled them up to your chin, exposing your lower half to her eyes. She drank the sight of you in, still gasping for air. 

“You already want more?” Natasha tutted. “Greedy whore.” She didn’t even ask you to beg; the sight of you exposed to her was enough. She pulled her dress above her head and it joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor before releasing her breasts from their confines, her nipples sore from the restraint.

She placed her hands on either side of your head, admiring your blown-out pupils and the streaks of mascara on your cheek; you hadn’t even realised you’d been crying.

Natasha didn’t know if it was from exhaustion or the way your beauty struck her but she decided to take her time with you that time. Her fingers dipped into your folds, caressing you with a gentleness you hadn’t felt from her before, the whines she earned from you quiet and subtle.

She ran her tip through your slit, soaking it with a mix of both your releases before nudging it against your entrance again. She dipped into you slowly, savouring the feeling of each new nerve that came into contact with your walls, re-tightening the released knot inside her stomach. Natasha didn’t start moving until she was fully inside of you, her face flushed by crimson.

As she leaned down to press her forehead against yours, you picked up her scent, the same vanilla and brown sugar perfume from before flooding your senses. Your hips met as she thrust into you with purpose; she was focusing on hitting exactly where you needed her to. 

She lifted your legs onto her shoulders so she could fill you to the brim and free your hands. You moved them into her hair, your nails running along her scalp.

Each breath that left her lips met with your skin, the faint sound intertwining with the oxygen leaving your lungs, your body buzzing with exhilaration. You could already feel yourself tipping over the edge, each wave that hit you stronger than the last. 

“You love this, don’t you? You love being put in your place,” Natasha said. It was like she was holding a blade to your every seam and she was cutting them one by one, splitting you apart slowly. “You’re taking my cock so well.” You closed your eyes as the ecstasy racing through your veins lifted you higher and higher, loud whimpers leaving your mouth. 

“I’m so close,” you admitted. She increased her pace as she rocked her hips into you and as you tightened around her, without either of you saying a word, you let go at the same time. You could feel her cock pulsing inside of you as you spilled over her and you plummeted back to earth, your nose nudging against hers as you arched your back. 

As soon as your climaxes were over, she shuddered and collapsed on top of you. Natasha didn’t move for a few minutes, nuzzling her face against your neck and you ran a hand over her hair, absorbing the softness underneath your fingertips, hoping it would stay in your memory.

Your chests were pressed together and the weight of her on top of you was comforting, although a little warm. The intimacy of the moment was dangerous but you were both too tired to notice it.

“You look so pretty when you come undone,” Natasha murmured against your skin, her finger tracing shapes along your jaw. You weren’t thinking about what she was doing; you hadn’t caught onto her tone. A few moments passed before she added, “I was being serious earlier. I want you to be mine.” The organ in your chest dropped.

Your hand halted and you slipped it out of her hair, causing her to lift her head. She was inches away from your face, close enough to see the electricity in your eyes, crackling with anxiety and something more. Your pupils were shrinking rapidly and there were lines were forming across your forehead. 

“What do you mean?” You thought she had meant it in a possessive way; it was said from a place of jealousy and lust. How could it mean anymore? She shook her head.

“I don’t know what it is about you. I just can’t get you out of my head.” Natasha knew it wasn’t just for sexual reasons either but she couldn’t quite confront that fact. She slipped herself out of you and rolled onto the mattress beside you.

You stared up at the ceiling, hyperaware of her every movement. Your muscles tensed as soon as she touched your arm, her fingertips dancing over the goosebumps forming along your skin. You weren’t someone who liked feelings or showed any vulnerabilities. You didn’t think she was either.

“What are we doing, Natasha?” you said, your chest tightening. You started nibbling on the corner of your lip, the room suddenly becoming too hot and small all at once. The situation between you had started off so normal; you had needed to blow off some steam and you were both attracted to each other, so it was an easy solution.

Then, it had become an orchestrated plan to get her back for leaving you, even though she had no obligation to stay and after spending yet another night together, you were discussing your fucking emotions. “We both know you won’t be with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said. You barely caught her words. She kissed your shoulder and hesitated before tilting your face towards her, pressing her lips to yours.

Her kisses were slow and sensual, her lips moving against you as you kept yours still. She stopped when she noticed you weren’t reciprocating, brushing the strands of your hair stuck to your sticky forehead from your face. “It’s not that simple. You know that.”

You felt a stab of anger and your nails dug into the palms of your hands. It wasn’t like you to break easily. Perhaps you were still too young to withstand the pain after all; your heart was inexperienced and malleable. You had dated before but it had never been serious or long-term. You couldn’t truly say that you’d ever loved someone (not that you loved Natasha or ever would, of course).

You had a strange urge to get to know her better; you wanted to have a conversation with her beyond sex. You wanted to spend time with her without it involving the two of you being wrapped up together in the sheets of a cheap motel bedroom. It was stupid of you to even think about the idea.  

You could feel your barriers crumbling, so you ran back to what you knew, to what was comforting. If it was only lust between you, then that’s what you’d drink. 

You climbed on top of Natasha and started kissing down her neck, grazing your teeth over her pulse point. You didn’t stop when she whispered your name in a confused tone, in fact, it only spurred you on. Your mouth wrapped around her nipple and you squeezed the other one in between your fingers, refusing to look into her eyes.

Her hands remained by her sides, refusing to touch you. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth and she itched to push you off, to ignore the hunger coursing through her body and to be honest with you, she wanted to talk to you properly. She didn’t want to use you. She wanted it to be something more.

You released her nipple and dragged your fingers down her stomach, tracing the taunt muscles of her abs and dulling her mind to everything that wasn’t your touch. When you reached her thighs, her cock was already hard again and you could feel tears building in your eyes but they weren’t caused by overstimulation or exhaustion. You knew how twisted the whole thing was. It was sick — you were sick.

The first drops of translucent hurt slipped down your cheeks as you ran your tongue along her tip, your bare body on complete display to her as you settled in front of her on all fours, gripping her thighs. You were going to give Natasha everything but your soul that night and she was going to watch as you slowly but surely fell apart under her gaze. 

A/n - I have an idea for part 3 (which would be the last part). If anyone has any ideas for the actual smut bit, please don't hesitate to send a request about it.

[akulride]

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