#and coming face to face with this instead

[jayblades]

— kiss me like nobody else does

clark kent x fem!reader

summary; you and clark are paired during a night out in the field with the rest of your team at the daily planet and you find yourselves in a bit of a tight spot; not the best place to be stuck with your brick wall of a journalist colleague, but you digress.

warnings; making out, fem reader, corenswet!clark, very obviously unedited and rushed!

author's note; i read somewhere that corenswet!clark doesn’t wear his suit under his clothes and im choosing to ignore this for fic purposes. such is the dc way.

A few lights buzz dimly overhead in your office space at the Daily Planet, casting pale halos across your scattered piles of papers, empty coffee cups and reflecting off the glow of the computer screens right into your burning eyes. It’s way past the end of your shifts, but nobody is thinking of leaving the bullpen. Instead, the five of you are camped out like war correspondents minus the gunfire, add in the vending machine snacks.

“Okay,” Jimmy yawns, burying his face in his hands as he sinks further down his chair. “If I stare at these tax records any longer, I’m going to start dreaming in numbers and spreadsheets.”

Lois doesn’t even glance up from her position on the floor next to you and Clark, and her words come out slightly muffled around the pen balanced between her teeth. “Good. Maybe you’ll come up with the true meaning of ‘unreported foreign income’ in your sleep and save us all weeks of work.”

Cat is perched on the edge of her desk, her hair still maddeningly perfect and you self-consciously smooth down your own. “Could be worse. At least there’s a party to look forward to. Even if the host is a tax evading, corrupt politician.”

“A party that we’re all going to be falling asleep at tomorrow if we don’t head home now,” you say, sitting up and stretching hard enough to make a few cracking noises. “God, what’s the time?”

“2:15,” Clark mumbles, his eyes scanning over his notes. His hand lifts absently, as if to remove his glasses, but his fingers simply hover near the frames like he’s fighting muscle memory before they drop back to his side. You’re about to make a joke about how his optometrist isn’t here watching him, and that he can take his glasses off for a minute or two, but your eyes catch on his colourful flashcards.

“I better not see those tomorrow, Smallville. We don’t need a repeat of our last undercover assignment.”

Immediately, a blush dusts over his cheeks and you nearly catch yourself smiling in your sleep-deprived state. Despite the tips of his ears going red, he sounds indignant. “We’re not even undercover this time. We’re literally there with press access.”

“Technicalities,” you groan, dragging a hand down your face. “How many times do I need to remind you we’re going in as press and then hiding any evidence of the fact so we can snoop. That means you can’t trip over nothing and let your flashcards with the blueprints on them fall out of your pockets and all over the floor this time.”

The others immediately start cracking up and Clark sits up straight. “Okay, that was one time. And you’re leaving out the part where it provided a great distraction for Superman to come out the second they started pointing guns at us and everyone else in the warehouse.”

“True,” Jimmy pipes up. He couldn’t stop talking about that night for weeks after it happened. “He was pretty awesome.”

“Hey, you should get some stealth tips from your boyfriend to avoid things like this in the future,” you nudge him with your elbow and smile innocently at his blank expression.

“Really? Boyfriend?”

Cat snorts into her fist, but Lois schools her own expression and joins in the bit straight away. “Well, there has to be a reason he’s always giving you interviews, right? You’re the only guy in the world who says ‘golly’ unironically. That has to be a turn on for someone.”

“Hm,” you agree, picking up the cup of coffee nearest to you and fighting a grin. “Maybe his type is just 6’4, earnest, kind, dorky journalists with puppy dog eyes.”

You try not to choke on a laugh as you take a swig of lukewarm coffee, freezing mid-sip. “Oh my God,” you shudder, forcing yourself to swallow and immediately gagging afterwards. “Can we please get Lois her own cup with a neon warning sign so the rest of us can avoid multiple cavities?”

“My bad.” She winces, taking her cup back and drinking deeply without so much as a shudder.

Clark’s broad shoulders shake with barely contained laughter from beside you and you consider taking back the word ‘kind’ when he shrugs at your glaring face. “Can’t say you didn’t deserve that. Also, I’m only 6’1. Also, did it ever occur to you that maybe I’m just a good journalist?”

“Nope,” you deadpan, not missing a beat. “Also, I didn’t peg you for a liar,” you respond, mocking him with as much ire as you can.

He rolls his eyes, but it bugs you more than you let on.

You’ve noticed the way Clark tries to make himself look smaller with the way his posture is bad enough to rival your own. But there’s no way he’s any shorter than 6’4 and you’d bet good money on it. Call it good journalistic instinct or stalker tendencies, but he’s not exactly easy to miss. It’s not like you’ve been staring at him.

You’d also mention the fact that his slightly oversized clothes do nothing to hide his huge biceps every time he reaches over your desk to steal a pen, but at the risk of getting written up by HR, you refrain and keep it to yourself.

Cat hops off her desk and her heels make a loud clacking noise that has everyone grimacing in the otherwise silent office. “Okay, we’ve done as much as we can tonight,” she declares, picking up her bag with a sigh. “I’m going home and getting my much needed beauty sleep. I suggest the four of you do the same.”

“I’m right behind you,” Jimmy says, shoving his notes unceremoniously into his briefcase. Lois does the same and you reluctantly start packing your own things.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave too,” you mumble through a yawn and shrug on your jacket. “Don’t leave me alone with Boy Scout and his love for municipal law.”

Clark’s lips twitch. “I do enjoy a good public records database.”

The fact that he’s pretending not to be sincere about the fact is almost endearing. You can begrudgingly admit that to yourself. Outwardly, you scoff and ignore the fact that he’s following you out with a teasing grin, close behind.

“Everyone clear on what to do?” Lois asks, pointlessly — you’ve all gone through the plan five times in the past half hour. “Cat chats up the senator or anyone in his near vicinity, including the PR manager to get the event schedule. Jimmy takes candids for cover. I’m going to create a distraction for the guards—”

“And Clark and I sneak upstairs and break into the senator’s office,” you finish for her. “Go time?”

“Go time,” Cat rolls her shoulders like she’s about to square up before walking off with all the confidence in the world.

The others break away to do their respective jobs and you and Clark make your way to the alcove near the exit to await Lois’ confirmation text to slip upstairs. As soon as your phone dings, you tap Clark on the arm and begin walking away, all without looking up from your device as you put it on silent.

He follows you dutifully, glancing behind every now again to keep watch as you rush up the stairs. The upper floor is darker, quiet save the sound of your heels clicking too loud for your liking on the sleek marble floors.

You stop abruptly when you notice the ostentatious door standing out from the others and Clark clumsily bumps into your back, nearly knocking you over.

“Oh, shoot, sorry,” he whispers, steadying you by the waist, but you’re barely paying attention, reaching for your purse and digging around for any old loyalty card in your wallet. “Uh, what’s that for?”

“For Plan A,” you mutter, sliding it into the space between the door and the frame, right above the handle. You wiggle it around for a second, tilting and angling the card with no particular method, praying it works. “Please open, please open, please— Ha!”

The door opens miraculously and you fight the urge to do a victory dance as Clark watches with wide eyes. “Huh… What was Plan B?”

“Getting you to break the door down, obviously.”

You don’t wait for an answer as you barge into the room and head straight for the cabinets while Clark heads for the desk and starts scanning it with his eyes like he’s trying to look straight through the wood. By the time you’ve turned around properly, his glasses are back on and you find yourself wishing you’d looked a little earlier, suddenly wondering what his face looks like without the dark frames.

He seems to settle on one particular drawer, jimmying it open with a crack and somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re wondering what kind of idiot senator has such lax security measures protecting his documents. Surely he could afford some stronger drawers.

“Look at this,” he says, voice low as he holds up a receipt stapled to a glossy invoice. “Private jet to a development site in Dubai. Paid for by the foundation tied to his campaign manager.”

“I’ve seen this account name somewhere else… This is good stuff, Kent.”

“I think this is all we need from here,” he decides, folding it up and taking your purse to neatly tuck it away. You let him, too busy looking at him like he’s gone crazy. “What? There’s probably not much else on paper.”

“What are the chances that we can get into his computer using ‘Password123’?”

Clark opens his mouth to reply before he abruptly cuts himself off. He grabs your arm, and steers you to the door. “Security’s on their way.”

”What? How do you—?”

Heavy boots clatter up the stairs along with the sound of voices, making you straighten up and practically run out the door.

Your stomach drops when you realise they’re coming from both sides of the hallway and without thinking too much about it, your eyes latch onto a door that reads ‘Supplies’ and you shove it open, dragging Clark in there with you and twisting the lock.

Immediately, you feel the lack of space as you’re surrounded by stacked boxes and shelves and trolleys and him. You press your back to the wall, but his body is inches from yours, warm and solid and tense like he’s painfully aware of the limited air between you.

“6’2, my ass,” you whisper, trying to angle your body so you’re not shoved completely against him. It does nothing and Clark sighs, gently holding you in place before letting go to raise his arms to steady himself against the wall above your head, giving you a little bit more space to move. “God, how are you so… large?”

“Maybe you’re just small,” he retorts, sounding like a petulant child.

“Good one, Clark,” you deadpan. “You should write that one down on one of your flashcards.”

Through the crack under the door, you see shadows moving near the office door and guards doing a sweep of the room inside and out. Voices murmur. “Nothing. Probably just noise from downstairs.”

“I think they’re leaving,” you whisper, straining to hear.

Clark stays staring at the door, quiet.

“I heard them go. They’re—”

“They haven’t left,” he says softly, furrowing his brows.

You freeze. “What?”

“I think they heard us in here. They’re faking it and waiting outside the door.”

“How the hell do you know that, Clark?” you whisper-yell, practically looking up at him. The second you hear some shuffling, you realise he’s right and your brain kicks into plan mode. “Shit. Okay. Don’t freak out, Smallville.”

You start to muss up his hair and tilt his glasses slightly so they sit crookedly on his face before you move to loosen his tie, using it to pull him down a little closer to your level. “Uh, okay. Freak out about what? And what are you… Oh—”

You try your best not to process the feeling of his entire body shuddering against you as you press a firm kiss to the side of his neck that’s in the line of sight to anyone entering the closet, leaving an obvious mark in the shade of your lipstick.

“I— I don’t… Wh—” he can barely stammer out a sentence and you wish you had the time to appreciate how much of a mess he’s become from a few pecks to the neck and cheek. Most of all, you wish you had the time to make fun of him from being such a Kansas farm-boy type. His eyes become glassy the second you slip the strap of your dress down your shoulder. “What a-are you doing?”

“Oh, relax,” you whisper, rolling your eyes. “You never seen a bare shoulder before? Quick, lift me up onto the shelf, so I can reach.”

He obeys immediately, like it’s a reflex with the way his large hands automatically wrap around the sides of your waist and pick you up like you weigh nothing to settle you onto the uncomfortable metal rings. “Reach what?”

You sigh when his hands go respectfully back to his sides and so you pick them up and settle them right back onto your hips, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer than the already unforgiving distance. As soon as you do this, Clark lets out a shuddering breath like the wind has been knocked out of him and his eyes never once leave your hips. Exactly where his hands are firmly squeezing.

It’s professional, you tell yourself. Just… good, old-fashioned, professional journalism when you’re unbuttoning his dress shirt, eyes focused on his chest so you don’t get distracted by your lipstick marks on his milky white skin, or the way his blue eyes are as dark as you’ve ever seen them right now.

He isn’t exactly stopping you, and so you unbutton as far down as you can before a flash of blue and red lycra stops you in your tracks. “Oh my God,” you exhale, fingers frozen at his chest.

“What?” he murmurs, dazed as he glances up at your face. There’s no time for him to realise what you’re looking at because there’s a sudden rattling of the doorknob and you hastily button his shirt back up before threading your fingers in his hair and using your grip to pull him closer. He swallows hard.

“Make it look real, Kent,” you breathe out and as soon as the door breaks open, you’re pressing your lips against his and kissing him deeply.

It’s clumsy at first, considering the way you’ve practically attacked him, but the second your hand trails down to his jaw, it’s like he’s jumping into action with the way he slants his lips against your own. All for the job, you repeat in your head like a mantra in an attempt to justify the way you’re making little noises when he kisses you back like he’s getting graded.

“Hey,” a voice booms out through the now open door, but thankfully Clark follows your lead and acts like he doesn’t even notice them. “Hands up where we can— Ah, what in the hell is this?”

The way he’s kissing you is so Clark and it has you melting against him. Your hands slide down his chest to the sides of his arms where you grip his biceps that you absolutely knew would be as firm as they are, despite his ill-fitting suits.

The men outside of the closet are complaining under their breaths like they’re not getting paid enough to deal with this kind of thing, but you want to be as convincing as possible and so you ignore them completely. Instead, you kiss Clark even deeper, slipping your tongue into his mouth. Immediately, he allows you entry and lets out a low moan like you’re completely alone.

It takes you off guard and heat pools in your lower stomach, because damn, he’s convincing.

“Hey, break it up!”

Clark moves his lips against yours hungrily, his breath catching when your chest rises up to press against his front, your hips slotting perfectly between his own. The movement spurs him to lift one of your legs so it’s further settled up his waist and his hand stays at your upper thigh, pushing your dress up with the motion.

“NOW!”

The sound of a fist banging against the door makes you jump and you whip your head around and act like you only just noticed the two guards in your presence. Clark still has his eyes shut and his forehead rests against your temple as you’re turned away from him. He’s breathing even heavier than you.

“Oh my goodness,” you laugh, weakly, smoothing down your hair in faux embarrassment. “We are so, so sorry. We just needed some, uh, privacy.”

One of the guards looks at you incredulously. “You can’t be here, lady! Find it elsewhere.”

“Of course,” you exhale, smiling apologetically as you fix the strap of your dress and tug the fabric down your legs. You tap Clark’s forearm and he leans back slowly and lifts you by the waist again to set you down. “We’ll just be on our way. Uhm, sorry again.”

Grabbing Clark’s hand, you tug him behind you as you speed-walk down the hall and the staircase. The air cools you down a little and once your head clears, you shove Clark into yet another tight space in a little alcove beneath the stairs where you’re sure no one is listening.

You look up at him and your breath is nearly taken away when you notice his pupils are completely blown, there’s a flush going all the way down his neck and his lips are bitten and swollen. Worst of all, his eyes are glued to your mouth.

It takes a lot of self control to snap out of it, but you somehow manage to. “So. Are we going to talk about it?”

Clark blinks, eyes flickering back up to meet your own. Once your words register in his mind, he takes a deep sigh. “Yeah… yeah I guess we should.”

Tapping your foot against the marble, you cross your arms and raise an expectant brow. “Well?”

“Okay, here goes,” he murmurs, nodding like he’s trying to convince himself that speaking is a good idea. “I can’t stop thinking about you. And you kissing me like that was probably the worst thing you could have done, because I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to recover from it now. Like, seriously, it’s replaying in my mind as we speak and maybe kissing you back like that was wildly inappropriate, but you’re a really good kisser and I really like you—”

“Wait, what?” you cut him off, head spinning from his words. “I wasn’t talking about the kiss! I was talking about the fact that either it’s laundry day and you’re wearing a blue swimsuit to substitute your underwear, or…”

You trail off, looking pointedly at his chest and signaling in the shape of an ‘S’.

Clark’s jaw goes slack and he looks down like he’s making sure his shirt is buttoned up. It still is, thanks to your previous forethought, but it has you realising that he still doesn’t know that you know.

“Smallville,” you inhale, pinching your nose bridge. “Are you telling me you were so affected by a couple of pecks that you still haven’t realised that I know you’re— him?”

He’s silent for a second. “It’s entirely possible.”

“Oh my God, I knew it!” you say, fighting a derisive laugh. “Well, I mean… I heavily suspected. And doubted a lot. But the thought was there, so it counts!”

Clark winces, burying his face in his hands like he’s hiding. “You knew?”

“Come on, Clark,” you scoff. “You clearly don’t need glasses. You’re the only one who gets interviews with the guy — which, can I just say, is definitely toying with the boundaries of journalistic ethics. You’re built like a tank. You also mysteriously disappeared during that one shootout when Superman suddenly appeared and then you came back as soon as he left!”

“You noticed I went missing?”

“I—” Shaking your head, you come to another realisation tonight and think that it’s only fair to be as honest with him and he’s being with you. “Of course I noticed, Clark. Whether I choose to or not, I always notice you. God, it only makes sense that you’re Superman, I mean you’re just so good. As Clark, you’re always kind and polite and unwavering in your beliefs and… Yeah. I noticed.”

You finish the sentence off lamely, suddenly very aware of the silence between you both. You’ve never been one for long silences and eventually you decide you’ve had enough. “Are you going to say something?”

“I notice you too,” Clark whispers, looking at you in awe. The man from another planet, who could probably hang out amongst the stars any day he chooses, is looking at you like you’ve personally hung them all in the sky. A slow smile begins to grow on his face and your chest aches at how beautiful he is. “Sometimes, you’re all I notice.”

“I know,” you say teasingly, stepping closer to cup the side of his jaw with your hand. “It’s super creepy, Smallville.”

His grin only widens and you’re mesmerised with only one thought in mind.

“Can I?” you ask, gesturing at his glasses. He nods straight away, like he doesn’t even have to think about it and the trust he has in you makes you want to melt into a puddle there and then.

The second the specs leave his face, he’s just as beautiful. Just as striking. And so very Superman.

“There he is.”

[blkkizzat]

𝟔𝟗—𝐖𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂~!

....𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝟔𝟗!

♋ pairings: (separate) 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧ 𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐮!𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧ 𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧ 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ♋ cw: 69 position so lots of fellatio and cunnalingus obvi! ✧ pet names ✧ face fucking ✧ spanking ✧ biting ✧ dirty talk ✧ teasing ✧ pussy drunk ✧ squirting ✧ overstimulation✧ sex swing ✧ light mention of drugs ✧ light dubcon ✧ daddy kink ✧ variety of readers types: bimbo, shy, mischievous, etc. ♋ an: phfft—not me touching grass for once and missing posting this on the last day of cancer season! my bday was actually July 21st! i wanted to post then but i got too busy and i've been wanting to write this since last year! This is a gift fic for my cancer girlies but i hope you all enjoy all the same~! (sorry leo girlies, we extending cancer season by oa few days LOL!)

♋ Toji—makes you do it his way:

“Toji have you lost your goddamn mind! Put me down—now!”

Upside down, suspended mid-air, you are aghast at how your simple request to try out a new sex position—69—has gotten you into this position. 

Vertical—instead of horizontal, ass naked in the middle of the living room.

“Nuh-uh, ma. Ya said we gotta spice it up—try sumtin’ new…”

You squeak as Toji adjusts his grip on you. 

With a devilish smirk Toji loosens his grip, allowing you to slide down for a mere fraction of a second before jostling your body upwards again. His hold is considerably tighter this time as Toji’s arms encircle lower waist, pushing your pussy right inline his face as his cock slaps you upside the head.

“...well that wasn’t new to me. This? This is.”

Toji’s words tickle the folds of your cunt, already glistening with moisture and on full display for him. Any attempts to squirm free are futile. Toji’s muscular arms are like bulky steel bands—you aren’t going anywhere no matter how hard you fail against him.

Fuck! Did this have to be in the living room too!? Megumi should be home from school soon!

“W-Well, um, uh…what if Megumi comes back?!”

Initially ignoring your concerns, Toji audibly inhales. 

Your scent hits him like a drug, mouth watering as if the only thing that mattered was the feast between your thighs—not the fact that his own son could walk through the door at any moment.

“Heh, told ‘em not too. Even sent ‘em some money take his friends to some fuckin’ pussy earthworm movie—he ain’t gonna be ‘ere any time soon mama.”

Toji willingly sending money? 

Paying for multiple people at that?? 

Oh shit, this was serious.

You gulped, shuddering from his breath fanning into your core. 

You’re fucked. 

Yet your fate was easier than you expected to accept, with blood now rushing to both your head and your cunt—the effect is dizzying to say the least. Reminding you just how horny you were before Toji literally turned your world upside down. 

“P-Please Toji…daddy?”

The whine you let out is so pitiful, even you aren’t sure if you’re begging to be let down or pleading for Toji to stop playing with his food and finally devour you—but either way, you already know how he’s going to respond.

“That’s right mamas, listen ta that pretty lil’ cunt of y’ers. Heh, just look how she's winkin’ at me—slutty girl knows exactly what she wants.” 

Toji whistles low at the sight, then spits directly into your hole—like his filthy actions are determined to outmatch his even dirtier mouth. This time, the whimper you let out isn’t confused or conflicted—it’s raw with need.

Unable to hold back any longer, Toji parts your pussy lips with the flat of his probing tongue. 

When he reaches your center, your hole flutters as he traces the rim with his tongue. He dips in just enough to tease, offering soft kitten-like licks as if he’s savoring your creamy taste—and even without seeing his face, you can practically feel the smug smirk tugging at his lips.

“Ya can’t expect me t’do all the work now, eh? Let’s reciprocate a little, ma.”

You’d roll your eyes if gravity didn’t already have them at the top of your head, but fair was fair you suppose—even if it was completely unfair how he got you into this position in the first place.

You’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to suck his dick when your face is more aligned with his balls. That doesn’t stop you though as you start at his swollen sack, kissing your way up the length of his cock as best you can, leaving a wet trail that has Toji’s abs trembling.

But your small victory is short-lived, not even getting the chance to gloat—he curses low into your cunt about needing to feel your whole mouth, then hoists you up a little higher without warning.

“Open that throat f’er Daddy, yeah?”

Jaw stretching wide, you can do little but submit in the moment. But it isn’t until the weight of him—thick, unrelenting—slams past your tonsils with dizzying force that you realize why Toji insisted on doing it this way.

Gravity is bullying his cock up your throat deeper than ever, forcing you to adapt fast. 

Your eyes fly open, and you quickly learn to breathe through your nose as he keeps pace, jamming his rough tongue deep inside your pussy with perfect synchronicity.

His girth is suffocating, your airway choked off just enough to blur the line between pleasure and panic. 

Add the ruthless precision of his tongue and the disorienting rush of being upside down, and black edges bloom at the corners of your vision. 

You’re overwhelmed—sensations crashing over you all at once. 

Gripping his thighs for dear life, your nails rake red trails down his skin, they’re the only anchor keeping you from slipping under completely as a small orgasm crashes through your body.

“Fuckin’ perfect.”

Toji purrs into your slit as your entire body trembles, your scorching, soaked throat muscles pulsing tighter around his cock—every wave of your climax rippling straight through him like an aftershock.

Shit’s insane—he’s gonna bust fast. 

Fuck.

Toji’s no minute man but there’s no way he can hold out like this—not with your filthy little throat choking him from above while your pussy sobs her creamy tears all over his face, sweet and slick—fucking addictive.

“C’mon mamas gimme a big one, paint my face with it.”

Even if you hear Toji, his voice crazed with lust—which you couldn’t btw—your mind too clouded and your ears ringing with the sound of your own gurgles, you didn’t need to. 

Your body’s already teetering on the brink—the pleasure white-hot, blinding, as your eyes rolled so far back they may as well be lost in your skull. You can’t do anything but hang limp, letting Toji use you like the shameless little onnahole you’ve clearly proven yourself to be. 

Overstimulated beyond anything you thought humanly possible, everything shatters the moment Toji—drunk on your pussy, feral in his haze—starts sucking and nipping at your clit.

If your throat weren’t already wrecked, you might’ve screamed. 

But your body does it for you—legs jerking, greedy hole milking all over Toji’s face, every muscle seizing as you fall apart in his hold.

This gives Toji—who’s been hanging on by a threadbare shred of willpower—the green light to finally release everything.

And he does.

Toji unloads a geyser of hot release down your throat with a groan that borders on depraved, only realizing mid-spurt just how much he’s giving you—and with you upside down, he has to yank you off before you really choke.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally rights you, turning you upright and lowering your boneless body onto the couch while you cough through the aftermath, too weak to even really assess the damage.

“There ya go, ma. See, I knew my slutty lil’ throat goat could handle it.”

Eyes snapping to meet his own they radiate death—but the moment you try to speak, your voice breaks into a raw, useless croak, your ruined vocal cords on fire.

“Er, yeah I’ll, uh, go make ya some tea mama.”

Giving Toji another exasperated expression as if to sass him with a ‘yeah, you fuckin’ go do that buddy’—you flop face first into the fluffy couch cushions beneath you. Too tired to try to fight him now that you’ve lost your voice.

Toji—buzzing, hard again, and fully ready for round two—knows better than to say it out loud. 

But the moment your throat recovers?

Yeah, you’re doing this shit again.

Maybe with a little weed next time… get ya to stop pretending like ya don’t love it.

♋ Nanami Kento—uses it as a teaching moment:

“C’mon Bunny, use your words, beautiful.”

You whine petulantly in response, nerves frayed while a flush of heat sweeps over you. 

Nanami’s plush bedding rucks beneath your form as you lay on your side, the both of you on opposite ends in the 69 position you had asked to try.

Well, barely. You were too shy to even say the words “sixty-nine.” 

You’d fumbled like an idiot. 

Nanami had to pry it out of you, his voice patient, yet amused, while you batted your lashes low, avoiding eye contact as you finally spat out the lewd syllables. 

This was your first time taking any kind of initiative in the bedroom.

Nanami is so in tune with your body that you’d never need to ask for anything outright, spoiled by the way he always just knew.

That’s exactly why this is so mortifying now.

Nanami, with age and infinite experience, introduced you to a world of pleasure that felt like stepping through a secret door only he had the key to—and always maddeningly composed, while doing so. 

He’s guided you through all your firsts. Your first kiss, touch, orgasm, all of it. 

Nanami was gentle when you needed it and ruthless when he knew you could take it. 

Now here you are, half-naked, aching with a need he is fully aware of—and he refuses to touch you.

“You’re the one who asked for this...” 

Nanami coos, voice deep and seductive. 

“...so show me how bad you want it. Tell me what this slutty lil’ pussy needs, Bunny.”

Nanami knew from the very first orgasm he beckoned out from between your sinful, velvety thighs how big a pleasure slut you are. You hid it well, under layers of shy inexperience and a demure countenance. Yet once Nanami had gotten you under him, you’d been so responsive, so easily guided into debauched euphoria as if your entire body served as a sex organ—exposing your hidden nature. 

A shy slut wouldn’t do though and as such Nanami blames himself for overindulging you—now it’s up to him to correct that behavior.

Angling your hips up towards him, your body is saying what your mouth refuses to. Your clit aching as you want nothing more than to feel his lips latch onto your overheated sex. 

Yet Nanami ignores it, waiting with quiet expectation.

Even when you tried to take the initiative—pressing your plush lips to his swollen tip, kissing it gently before flicking your tongue over the bead of pre gathered there—Nanami grunts softly in pleasure, effect but still holding firm.

With that low, deliberate voice of his, he reminds you again: your fluttering little pussy, winking up at him so sweetly, would get nothing—not a single touch—not unless you walked him through every step.

Explicitly.

As a last ditch effort you try reasoning with him, Nanami if anything is a reasonable man—insisting there was no way you’d be able to tell him what you wanted once his cock was in your mouth.

Alas, that just causes him to chuckle, low and amused, the hardy breaths from his laughter torturously tickling your exposed slit, quivering deliciously under his critical gaze.

Unfazed as he’s already prepared for this, Nanami simply instructs you to wet his cock a bit, stroking him instead. While 69’ing does call for reciprocal pleasure but that doesn't mean you both have to use your mouths. 

Nanami would use his mouth on you—but you’d have to talk him through every titillating step while he did.

Paling in realization, you slowly come to terms with your defeat, teeth sinking into your lower lip. 

You want to run and hide but he’s right there and your slick has been smearing the inside of your thighs for a while now. and flushed and laid out beside you like temptation incarnate.Not to mention your head was already spinning from the thick scent of his musk—sharp, heady, laced with the faint salt of pre leaking from his cock where it rests, hard and heavy, against his thigh.

If he won’t move without words, then you have no choice.

You gulp, gathering your lust fueled courage.

“I-I w-w-want…” 

You trail off, voice weak and shaky. Nanami just hums as he lowers himself closer, awaiting your command.

“Say it, Bunny.”

Your heart races.

“IWantYourTongue!!”

Your words bleed together as they spill out of you. 

Nanami grins deviously, you’d have to be more descriptive than that.

“What was that, my love? My Tongue? Exactly what do you need my tongue to do?”

Your cheeks blaze, arousal spiking to insufferable levels as it begins to dissolve your apprehensions away.

“F-Flick my clit.” 

The words aren’t above a whisper but they are clearly spoken instructions nonetheless.

Good girl.

And so Nanami gives you what you ask for. No more, no less. 

With one sharp flick of his tongue that makes your whole body spasm as you cry out, finally feeling a tiny bit of what you’ve been craving this entire time.

“Like that, dear?”

You nod profusely. 

Nanami pauses, arching a brow at your non-verbal command causing you to quickly find your words again.

“S-Sorry! Sorry! Y-Yes! Um…again please. K-Keep going, l-lick me m-more…”

Obliging you fully his tongue dancing over your swollen bud in agonizing circles. 

“AH! S-S’GUD!”

A moan slips out as your eyes roll back, but a flicker of guilt cuts through the haze when you catch sight of Nanami’s cock—hard, leaking, and utterly neglected. It had taken all your will power just to give him these salacious instructions. You’d nearly forgotten that he wasn’t just supposed to eat you out, you were to return the favor.

Lowering your plump lips closer, you part them as the drool that’s been pooling on your tongue flows out. 

Your syrupy saliva coats his sizable length as your hands begin pumping in earnest.

Nanami’s low, appreciative hiss sends a ripple of heat straight to your pussy as he coaxes you to say more.

“What else, babydoll?”

You swallow hard, the words snagging in your throat—but not from embarrassment. The sensations of Nanami’s dexterous tongue are already fogging up your brain, making it hard to think, let alone speak. 

“Uhh, um, now—Hah, now…press your tongue flat, yes...ah! Uh and, uh—suck. S-Suck on it.”

“On what, Bunny?”

You grit your teeth, your frustration causing you to become snappy. 

“My clit, Ken! My clit! God…s-suction it—Yes, yes! OH—right there!”

A surge of power coils through your belly, electric as it runs throughout your veins—fueled by the way Nanami so willingly obeys every filthy command between your thighs—so long as you’re naughty enough to ask for it.

Nanami lets you ride the wave, grinding against his lips as you direct his movements through broken gasps, pleasure overtaking your mind. 

Your inner slut creeps outward, fully exposing herself with every lascivious moan, growing even bolder.

“Now…” 

Panting, you’re barely keeping it together but you can’t stop now, you need him to make you cum.

“...tongue me down. S-slowly, from the top… yes, right through—b-between everything. Keep going lower.”

Nanami follows the path you outline like a dutiful worshipper, slow slurps gliding down your folds until his tongue rims your gaping entrance.

“I-Inside...” 

You swallow down more air, chest heaving. You knew one word would not be enough to move him and you scramble to find your words—pure desperation the cause of your stuttering now.

“...p-p-put your t-tongue inside me, K-Ken.”

Hearing you fall apart has Nanami growling low. His eager mouth, fucking into your seeping heat with obscene precision, each stroke making your thighs quiver. His hands clamp down on your ass, guiding your hips to grind helplessly against his mouth, like he’s determined to devour every last bit of you.

It’s all too much, and not enough at once—you still weren’t done, you still had to guide him to finish you.

All the while you’d continued to stroke him, but it’s weak, inconsistent, your wrist losing rhythm every time he licks just right inside you.

“AH, uh, mmm… y-you’re fingers next—shitshitshit..my clit.”

Nanami doesn’t waste time correcting you, doing what he knew you couldn’t fully ask him to make you cum—he’s so proud of you. So painfully hard from your newfound assertiveness that it’s the only thing keeping him from going rogue and really ruining you. 

“HAH…m’gonna cum, Ken—oh m’fuck—m’so close—!”

Your body spasms—legs trembling, back arching—the pressure building sharp and fast from his attentions on your bud.

“Then let go, my slutty little dove.” 

The pads of his thick fingers press into your bud, strumming and plucking at your flesh, matching the rhythm of his tongue inside you.

“Show me how good it feels to take control of your desires.”

Your orgasm tears through you like lightning—loud, raw, and messy—drenching Nanami’s chin as your legs seize and collapse around his head. The overstimulation skirts the edge of pain, only making the release hit harder.

Your fingers slip from his cock as you go slack against the bed. 

Nanami pulls away from your cunt with a final, slow slurp. 

His face is slick with your release, jaw taut, cock still throbbing and untouched between his legs.

You did it—and you enjoyed it. 

Proud of yourself, your head swims and you’re not sure how long you lie there, soaked and unmoving, body ringing from aftershocks. 

So you don't feel the shift in the air as Nanami prowls to hover over you.

You blink once and you’re already folded in half—legs slung over his shoulders.

The new position makes your pussy clench again, already fluttering in want of his cock.

And you get it alright.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me, my love.”

Yet Nanami's praises are gravely, tight with a fraying restraint that is unlike him and there is something unhinged—a feral twinkle in his eyes. 

Your breath quickens finally feeling the danger surrounding you, you unleashed a completely different side of him, one he’s been trying to spare you from all this time.

“Now—”

Nanami lowers his face, words rough against your ear as he thrusts forward—just an inch, not nearly enough to satisfy. 

However, the sensation of your walls expanding around him is more than enough to make you cry out, moaning as he bullies his fat cockhead through your tight ring of muscle.

—tell me exactly how my cock should tear through your pretty lil guts.”

♋ Otaku!Gojo—takes to the next level (series m.list). 

“Toru… how the hell is this even supposed to work?!”

Deadpan, you stare at Gojo as he straps himself into the elaborate contraption. 

This was your fault. Truly. 

You knew better than to enable Gojo’s ecchi coded ways. 

So you really should have just kept your mouth shut instead of suggesting 69’ing in the new designer lingerie set he bought you.

What were you even thinking!?

Of course, the moment the words leave your mouth, Gojo drops to his knees like you just proposed marriage—and immediately starts begging for another trip to his parents’ sex dungeon to do it.

You agreed, albeit reluctantly, assuming he just wanted to use the rotating bed with the ceiling mirrors. 

Honestly, as nervous as that place made you, having sex somewhere that didn’t have Digimon or anime adorned sheets and decor was always a nice treat. Plus you knew his parents didn’t skimp on any expenses when it came to their perversions (like parents, like son) and it felt way classier than fucking in Gojo’s hentai museum. 

However, you should have known it wouldn’t be that simple. Leave it to Gojo to take things ten steps further—with a goddamn sex swing.

“Yep, just climb in on top of me, Bunny bae!” 

Gojo had clearly lost all his damn marbles if he thought you were about to get into that depraved shit with him—you aren’t trying to break your ass over his kink fantasies! 

Seeing your wariness, Gojo quips that you have absolutely nothing to worry about—it’s safe enough to stabilize up to four people! 

Gawking at him, you didn’t even want to know how four people were supposed to get into the swing, let alone use it. 

Huffing you crossed your arms, turning your nose up at him. 

“Awe, don’t be like that Bun-Bun! It will be fun—Hey, uh, just imagine I’m Spider-Man and we’re getting freaky-deaky in my giant web!”

Gojo wiggles his eyebrows like that’s actually supposed to be a tempting offer, and you visibly recoil. Instinctively taking cautious steps back as your self-preservation finally kicks in.

“Wait, wait, ok! Ok—no Spider-Man...”

You close your eyes briefly in relief.

“—how about Tarzan?” 

“TORU!!!”

Your eyes go wide, and you’re about two hot seconds from turning on your heel and walking the hell out when Gojo calls after you again—this time, his voice is softer, sadder and painfully pathetic.

Then like clockwork comes the infamous pout—those big, stupidly gorgeous eyes locking onto yours, weaponized in a way no man that dorky should ever be capable of. 

And, of course, your weak willed heart gives that familiar little twist that makes you feel bad for the deranged lil pervert.

Somehow, you always find yourself caving to the will of your hopeless otaku boyfriend—who you inexplicably still love despite his many, many ick-inducing preferences.  

“Fiiiine Toru, I’mma do this for you—”

“Yayyyy!”

Ecstatically cheering, in his excitement Gojo nearly falls out of the swing he just proclaimed was “uber safe” in his excitement. He quickly steadies himself, the swing still swaying as you roll your eyes and step closer.

“But no roleplay, got it?” 

Nodding aggressively Gojo’s just happy to get you in the swing at all. 

He’s had a full on boner since you suggested 69’ing over an hour ago and doing it in the swing Gojo knows will be 100 times better!

“Yes, yes! No roleplay—ya know there’s really no need when you already look like my smokin’ hot n’ sexy hentai succubus in that lingerie, Bunny!”

You roll your eyes once more but the heat creeping up your cheeks betrays you. 

Dressed in ruby red lace plunge corset halter with matching red lace crotchless panties, you figure all you’re missing is a pair of horns and a tail, and you’d play the part a little too well.

Naturally, Gojo had picked it out and had it custom made just for you. 

So of course, it fits like a dream—hugging every curve, the color making your skin glow in all the right places. His eyes haven’t left you since you put it on, practically devouring you whole, and now you can feel the weight of Gojo’s lustful gaze like a second layer of fabric covering every inch of your skin.

“Hmph, just shut it…” 

Grumbling under your breath, you reluctantly follow his instructions and awkwardly shuffle around to his head so you’d be facing the right way, towards his feet.

You try to be as graceful as possible easing into the stirrups Gojo had so meticulously prepared so the swing didn’t shift more than necessary. Straddling his face, the swing's ropes gripped tightly in your hands, your slit hovering over his eager mouth. 

“And you’re sure this is safe…m’ not gonna have any leverage to move my legs in the harness—what if I smother you?”

Your complaints have zero effect. 

When you look down at him between your legs his perfect teeth are grinning wider than a cheshire cat.

“Baby, that’s the point!” 

Gojo eyes manically sparkle. Unlike you his crazed subconscious has zero concerns of self-preservation. 

“Who needs oxygen? Ya know my lungs were built to breathe my pervy princess’s coochie air!”

An all too familiar cringe creeps up your spine and you drop your hips down without warning—silencing him, and in the most effective way possible before he completely kills the mood.

While you couldn’t stand the deviant ass shit that came out of Gojo’s mouth 95% of the time, you more than appreciated just how well he used that vulgar mouth of his.

And now, with his entire face smothered beneath you, lips, nose, and vision completely engulfed by your pussy and peachy rear, Gojo couldn’t say another unhinged word even if he wanted to.

Not that he minded one tiny bit.

Groaning unabashfully into your suffocating heat, Gojo figured if this is how he went out—your cute lil’ cunt filling his mouth, nose almost reaching your crack and thighs locked securely around his ears—he’d take it. 

Happily. 

Gojo only hoped he’d built up enough karma that he could request looping this moment on repeat in the afterlife—it for real would be his heaven.

Pinned in place by your thighs, Gojo wastes no time getting to work—slurping and licking, murmuring intelligible unrepentant filth in your cunt while his tongue drags through your folds like he’s already mapped out every crevice and easily knows how  to draw every ounce of creamy release from your body. 

If your coochie air was his oxygen, your juices were definitely his water.

His hands grip your ass, spreading you wider, tilting your hips to get the perfect angle the way he’s mouthing at your clit with sloppy, open-mouthed hunger has your whole body twitching above him.

Meanwhile, his cock throbs hot against your tongue, as you take him into your mouth.

You suck him down slowly at first, hollowing your cheeks, feeling the way his thighs jerk beneath you every time your throat clenches and enjoying the power you have over him as he’s just as sensitive and easily overstimulated as you are.

Saliva drips down your chin, pooling at your collarbone, and his deep groan vibrates in your walls like a tuning fork—shit it feels so good. 

You’re grinding now, rolling your hips in sync with the rocking motions of the swing, chasing friction.

As both you and Gojo spiral deeper into your frenzy for more, the swing jerks wildly beneath you, rocking with every desperate thrust. It takes everything in you to keep yourself steady—sweat-slicked limbs straining against the restraints, threatening to slip free. 

It should be concerning, but the chaos only heightens your high, feeding the reckless momentum. 

Your whole body tingles with adrenaline racing through you, so the thought of telling him to slow down never even registers. 

Not like Gojo could even stop if he wanted to, not when his mouth stays latched to your cunt like a man in a trance. Each groan vibrates against your sopping heat, and your arousal smears messily across his face. 

His chin glossy with the evidence of your unraveling while he is already in pieces beneath you, rutting upward, thrusting his cock deeper into your throat with more force. You can’t even be mad. 

Gojo is using you like one of his precious anime fleshlights and fuck—you love it.

Your own throat becomes its own erogenous zone as your slutty nature once again proves more than compatible with all his kinks. Dizzy from the lack of air you can’t stop shaking as your orgasm rips out of you without warning. A messy convulsion that sends your fluids cascading down his chin as your thighs clamp tight around his face. 

You try to pull away, but your body locks as your muscles seize and release, everything clenching and pulsing in waves.

At the same time, Gojo moans into your cunt, spilling down your throat with a hot, forceful gush. 

You gag slightly, stunned by the sheer volume as he cums harder than he has any right to, the swing jerking violently from the force of his twitching hips.

In his overstimulated haze, he slips his hands free from the top restraints and reaches up—to do what, exactly, you’ll never know.

Because that’s when it happens.

BAM!

The sound is sharp, metallic—wrong.

Then a sudden snap, followed by a sickening lurch.

You both drop halfway before jerking to an off-kilter halt, the swing tilted at a nauseating angle. The both of you tangled up like two oversexed insects caught in a net.

Gojo grunts beneath you—or now, technically on top of you, since the entire rig has twisted mid-fall. 

One of your legs is tangled in what used to be his arm loop, the other pinned somewhere under his torso. One arm’s trapped behind your back, the other mashed awkwardly under your chest.

And Gojo? 

His head is near your hip, arms hanging freely now, while the rest of his body is a knot of long limbs and useless leverage crushing down on you.

“I think… we might’ve broken it.” 

Gojo mutters sheepishly, voice too casual for the situation.

You don’t even have the energy to yell. 

You're stuck, soaked in sweat and cum, crushed by a six-foot-tall menace who thinks this is a good time to crack jokes.

“GET ME OUTTA HERE, TORU!”

“I’m trying, Bunny! Just—hold on—I’ll fix it!”

You feel him shift, trying to maneuver with his arms, but every time he jerks the swing groans ominously, ropes stretching and straining under your combined weight.

“Oh! Baby, wait! My phone!”

He perks up, bright with hope. 

You hear him start swinging the rig again, attempting to gain momentum toward the side table but the whole motion is an awkward attempt you already know is doomed to fail. 

You feel his cock—rehardening—slap lightly against your forehead with each forward swing.

“Are you seriously getting turned on right now?!”

Your voice cracks halfway between disbelief and a sob.

“We are going to DIE in here, Toru!”

“No, no no! Don’t worry, my sweet ecchi angel!” 

Gojo chirps attempting to cheer you up.

“The maids should be here soon. They do rounds every two hours in case… y’know… something like this happens.”

“…In case? This has happened before?!”

You freeze in realization that you actually needed people to help you out of this situation. 

Suddenly, you’ve never been more thankful for the Gojo family’s legally soul-binding NDAs—or the fact that their domestic staff was paid enough to keep their mouths shut for life. God, if even one person (besides Suguru, who Gojo told everything to) found out the sheer number of times you’d been caught half-naked in compromising positions with the lil freak?

You’d have to change your name, or move countries—better yet? Fake your own death.

This though? This wins. 

This takes the fucking cake.

You shut your eyes, already tallying up all the shit you were going to have Gojo buy for you to make up for this debacle—including the psych eval to assess what mental condition you had that kept you tied to this hopeless dork. 

“Hey, Bunny baaaaabe…”

Gojo interrupts your train of thought and you take a mental pause to compose yourself. You decide getting more upset would do nothing to help your current situation. 

“...yeah, Toru?”

Gojo hums contentedly, nuzzling his face into your plump thighs like they’re his favorite pillow. His eyes are half-lidded, glazed with bliss as he stares between your legs at the mess he made—already plotting how to make it even filthier.

“I can’t reach my phone. But if you help me swing a little more, I think I can grab the anal beads on this other table here, ya know… if ya wanna try em’ out while we wait…”

It’s silent for a moment as you stare blankly up at the ceiling. 

Not hearing a no Gojo starts swinging again with renewed purpose. 

You quickly realize he’s putting in more effort to reach those beads than he ever did his phone.

Now you’re resolved though. 

Trashing the list in your mind, there's only one thing you needed after this—the one thing that would ensure you’d never be in a situation like this again.

“Gojo. Satoru. First thing tomorrow? You’re getting neutered!”

♋ Sukuna Ryomen—gets jealous, again (previous drabble):

“Kunaaaa, s’not f-fair!”

You sob, gulping in air as your swollen, spit-slick lips leave one of his cocks—just for a moment—before descending onto the other.

Sukuna hadn’t put up much of a fight when you suggested 69’ing—which frankly shocked you as he’s never known to be any kind of agreeable. 

Even then it was a logistical nightmare considering the sheer size of him in his true form. 

You make it work though, with him sitting up, his massive body contorting just enough to accommodate you. He lounges back against the headboard of his pitch-black bed while you’re draped over him, sloping at a downward angle, trying your best to keep up.

But the bastard’s cheating.

Because instead of using the actual mouth on his face—he’s using the one on his fucking hand again.

“Oh? Well, that’s your own fault. You never specified me using my actual mouth, whore.”

Urgh, everything to Sukuna was rules and fucking technicalities so there was no arguing with him, especially when he was right—and he’d change the rules if he wasn’t.

You know you have to choose your words carefully around Sukuna who would try to manipulate the situation in any way he could to taunt you.

Sure, his hand felt fucking phenomenal—but that wasn’t the point! 

You wanted to feel his actual mouth on your cunt for once! Sukuna had only used his stomach mouth to taste you before.   

Lost in your thoughts Sukuna senses you slacking and one of his hands slides from your waist to force your head down further, burying him in your mouth to the hilt. 

You choke, gagging around him, your muffled moans and feeble protests swallowed whole as he cocks slam into the depths of your throat—just as the tongue on his hand plunges deeper into your quivering cunt, lapping up every drop of creamy slick it coaxes out with relentless, writhing strokes.

“Besides woman, with the shit job you are doing right now you should have no fucking complaints.”

Sukuna, of course, thinks you’re being a fucking brat—especially with the way your cunt keeps fluttering around his tongue, giving away just how good he’s making you feel, hand or not.

You’re close—Sukuna can feel it, knows it. He’s always said he knows your body better than you do, so you might as well stop thinking and let him take the lead. Be his obedient little cumdump—you’d feel good no matter what he did.

All of that may be true, however, you have a little knowledge of your own. 

One you had hid well from him thus far—and that’s you also know Sukuna far more than you let on.

For example:

You know he hates doing anything unless he thinks it's his idea.

You know he can be a stubborn SOB who will never relent to petulant begging or pitiful whines—no, he’d reveal in that suffering.

But most importantly, you know just how prideful he is. 

So you’re not surprised in the least it would come to this as you remember with renewed clarity the last time Sukuna used his hand tongue on you when he knew you’d wanted his actual mouth—so you switch tactics. 

Appearing to give into his whims completely, melting into the pleasure, you hum around his cock and push your hips back. Your pelvis tilts just right, bouncing against the mouth on his hand so your clit slaps perfectly against the rough, battle-worn heel of his palm with every roll of your hips.

The effect is electrically blinding. 

Sukuna tenses beneath you, his muscles twitching as the vibrations of your gratuitous cries ripple down one of his thick, tatted cock, surrounding it in a heat that if he wasn’t a cursed object he would think could melt his dick clean off. 

The other, you work steadily with both hands—slick with spit and streaked with thick globs of pre spilling freely from the swollen, angry tip.

And when you moan around him again—this time humming, his cock encased in your buzzing throat—Sukuna stills. 

Just for a breath. 

Just long enough for you to think maybe you’ve done something wrong before his hips surge upward, spearing his cock into your throat with brutal force.

“Fuckin’ tease.”

The words come out more as an animalistic snarl and immediately the mouth on his hand clamps down on your cunt—tongue twisting and curling wickedly inside your pussy, swirling around your clit, suckling like it’s trying to drain you dry.

Catapulting to the very top of your peak, your back arches instinctively, body convulsing in a violent shudder as your walls spasm around the intruding tongue in your core. The very appendage that has now grown long enough to abuse your gooey g-spot—ending you completely as you tumble over your peak.

Sukuna lets out a growl that if you were in any kind of clear state of mind you would have identified as a gruff whimper, his head snapping back against the headboard—causing the entire room to quake. 

You barely register the hot, punishing flood that erupts down your throat, still lost in the throws of your own ecstasy. Sukuna keeps you there, hands locked on your hips and head, using your spasming body to squeeze every last drop from his cock as his release pulses through you.

By the time he lets you go, you barely have the strength to hold yourself up. 

Your mind is white noise, your vision swimming.

Huffing with dizzy puffs from the lack of oxygen, you’re messily coughing up a river of your drool and his seed. Flecks splatter haphazardly across your neck and chest. 

Recovering quickly, used to his rough play, you release an airy giggle.

“Ah—ha! Mmm, that was amazing! K-Kuna… you were right—”

A blissed out expression on your face as you turn your head back to face Sukuna.

“—your hand’s mouth is much better skilled—the best actually! Thank you my King!”

Your giggles are continuous, still delirious and high off the rush, turning back around to press your lips to the tip of the cock you’d just been jerking. It’s still twitching—thick and needy, still backed up and pulsing for release.

Swaying your hips side to side, inside you are smug in the way only a woman completely out of her mind can be, knowing full well Sukuna’s seething behind that stony expression, yet you are unfazed.

And just as you predicted—he’s livid.

Hearing your carefree little hums, Sukuna’s eyes glow red—his rage growing as seemingly are utterly oblivious to just how offensive your words truly were. 

Who the fuck do you think you are? Acting like his hand is better than his mouth?

He never said that. He never even implied it.

You must’ve fucking lost your mind, it woudn’t be the first time he’d think your salacious lil cunt had poisoned your mind.

Because the King of Curses using his mouth? 

That’s not a given—it’s a fucking privilege. 

One you were never meant to have. 

A lowly little concubine like you? Barely worthy of his cock, let alone his tongue.

And you even requested this 69 position in the first place? That was your first mistake, he’d only indulged you so he could fuck with you again.

You’re his toy—his whore. 

You exist to bend to his will—not the other way around.

Sukuna continues to watch you with contempt. His boiling, bubbling under the surface, more angered by your ignorance. Especially as you glance over your shoulder once more with a too-sweet idiotic smile and a sing-song—

“My King~~ May you use your other hand this time? I wanna compare them!” 

Oh yeah that did it, this is war now. 

And so Sukuna snaps. Utterly and violently, losing his shit.

With a guttural growl, Sukuna yanks you back—ripping you clean off his cock like it offended him. Two of his massive, veined hands wrench your folds apart right in front of his face, while the other two clamp down on your thighs in a bruising grip, pinning you wide open. 

Then his mouth— his actual mouth—attacks. Devouring your pussy, he hums low in his throat. Shaking his head side to side like he’s trying to rip into your flesh. The force of the reverberation sends your nerves into overdrive, and your vision goes glassy, colors smearing at the edges like oil paint as your reality shifts at its intensity.

Still too sensitive and still being affected by the aftershocks of your first orgasm—you’re useless now. Your face slumps against his chiseled abs as drool spills freely from your slack mouth, pooling beside you.

Sukuna’s so hellbent on proving a point, he doesn’t even notice you’ve stopped touching his cock—swollen, twitching, and downright furious from neglect, swaying with every rock of the bed like it’s protesting the lack of attention. But he’s too deep in his own ego-trip to care.

He’s played himself, yet again.

Sukuna only pauses long enough to spit into your tantalizing cunt—mean, messy, and laced with loathing—his lips, glossed in your juices, curling into that cruel, self-satisfied smirk. 

He’s far too wrapped up in the jealous high of his own tantrum to register the dazed, blissed-out smile stretched across your face as you arch back deeper into his mouth.

“You dare to mock me, silly woman? The King of Curses? I’ll show this poor filthy hole what a real mouth feels like, Slut.”

And really, that’s all you wanted all along.

♋ Geto Suguru—ends up punishing you:

“Suck me right, Bunny. Weren’t you the one who pouted until I agreed to this?”

Smack!

You let out a broken moan, the sharp sting of Suguru’s slap blooms across your bottom—sending a jolt straight to your core.

It was true you had asked—no practically begged until Suguru relented to trying 69ing. 

Yet in the moment you were failing miserably, far too overwhelmed by your own pleasure to properly service him.

“Shall I get someone else, hm? A more devout follower who can be more attentive perhaps?”

Suguru speaks the words right into your core before giving your soppy folds one last lick as if he would make good on his words.

“N-N-NO! I’ll d-do it! Puhleaseee, G-Geto-sam—AH!”

Suguru sighs. 

His threats are mostly hollow—he would stop if you didn’t focus, but none could compare to your slutty little mouth, that sloppy thing was in a league all of her own.

Which is exactly why this was so fucking frustrating.

You’d pleaded for this position with those wide, babydoll eyes and like a fool he caved.

He should’ve said no. He knew better.

Not that Suguru was ever opposed to eating you out, on the contrary, it was one of his favorite rituals. Bending you over his ornate cypress desk, your skirt shoved up, and him diving face first into your slippery cunt was a nirvana all on its own.

But now? This feels more like hell. 

What with you naked, stretched out above him, while his cock—freed from his robes—twitches with impatience, bobbing near your slack-jawed mouth. 

You’re trying. He can tell. 

But every time his tongue grazes your messy folds, your brain short-circuits like a broken shrine lamp.

Suguru knew this would happen. 

He knows just how sensitive his little slut is.

How your entire body jolts from the slightest flick of his tongue swirling around your clit. How one well-placed stroke of his fingers, pressing against the gooey spongy spot in your dripping core is enough to erase every coherent thought in your airy little head.

When Suguru is fully feasting on you like your pussy is a tabehodai buffet, tongue buried deep, lapping with reverence and precision. He’s honestly surprised you’re still breathing, given how useless your brain has become.

You barely had gotten your lips around him before your mouth agape, spittle drizzling down in lazy drips upon his angry red tip.

It’s enough to drive a man to madness.

That’s why he initially refused when you asked him to do this, knowing he would be blue balled by your slutty incompetence. 

Suguru is—at best—exasperated. His cock pulses, neglected and throbbing, hot puffs of your breath ghosting over the head while your whole body trembles from the overstimulation he’s graciously providing. Each soft cry, each weak twitch of your fingers, only fuels the annoyance simmering in his gut.

Still, Suguru doesn’t stop. He never could deprive himself of his favorite indulgence. His tongue sinks deeper into your fluttering heat, savoring the way your cunt clenches around nothing like it’s begging to be filled.

Then comes another slap—firm and biting against your ass. But instead of correcting you, it only makes you moan louder, body jolting with another blissed-out tremor that shoots straight through his tongue.

He sighs again.

This was all quite enough. 

If you were going to be a useless little doll, he might as well treat you like one.

Before you can process what’s happening, Suguru moves—faster than your panting breath. 

Sliding out from beneath you, he flips your boneless body onto your back across the desk, your head dangling off the edge. Blinking up at the ceiling in a confused daze you hear the low scrape of his chair rolling forward. Then—Suguru’s hands are gripping your thighs as his mouth finds your clit again—harder this time, more purposeful, tongue flattening and circling in a frenzy.

His fingers spear into your soaked heat without hesitation, dragging along that tender, swollen spot with expert cruelty.

OH FUH~!

Almost immediately you gush, squirt streaming down his fingers as you orgasm quickly follows, your body shaking.  You soiling his desk, his robes and you are sure of any papers or documents in the direct vicinity. Suguru doesn’t stop though, abusing your weak spot over and over until you forget what plane of existence you are even on—until you're screaming, cumming so hard it's almost painful.  

Only when your eyes are glassy and unfocused, tongue lolling lewdly from your lips, does Suguru finally relent—satisfied with the twitching, pleasure-drunk mess he’s reduced you to atop his desk.

Immobile, loose and complacent, your head still hangs over the edge, mouth open and inviting—good, exactly how he wanted you.

Now it’s his turn.

Rising smoothly from his plush chair, Suguru’s palm glides across your trembling body as he makes his way around the desk, savoring the heat still radiating off your skin.

You’re gasping, chest rising in uneven waves, when he reaches down—fingers wrapping around your neck with a gentle squeeze, thumbs rubbing lazy circles over your windpipe like he’s warming up his favorite instrument.

Suguru’s cock throbs at the sight—heavy and aching with denied release, balls drawn tight and desperate to flood your belly full with his salty fluids.

A soft, anticipatory groan escapes him as he tilts your head just right.

“Now be a good little fuckdoll, Bunny…” 

Suguru commands, lips curling into a thin, wide grin.

“…and say ah~”

©𝐛𝐥𝐤𝐤𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐟𝐱, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.

♋ an: im pretty proud of this cause i wrote this all in like 3 days. am i getting my groove back? 💕🤭

choso's is coming soon, but its a bigger story. lol return of bitchy reader tho (plug!choso girlies know the vibes cjhdsfjhdjf).

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 & 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐱 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬!

[bodhiscurls]

you are in love. ( clark kent )

one night, he wakes strange look on his face. pauses, then says "you're my best friend", and you knew what it was- he is in love. (taylor swift!) all the chances clark has to confess his feelings for you never feels like the right time; that's until you're gone out of town for a work trip and he can't deny how his soul yearns for yours in a way he can no longer hold it together, even if it means declaring it in a sea of people at baggage claims.

pairing: clark kent x reader

themes: fluff! best friends to lovers, two idiots pining and in denial, love confession (DUH)

masterlist.

clark kent is sure he's loved you all his life; he says that with great earnest and sincerity. it's coming up to the five year mark of your friendship and clark would say that his life never really started until he met you- like you set off something inside of him; thus, he's loved you for every moment he's truly felt like his life was worth living.

the moment he realised he was in love with you was when he felt his heartbeat come to a complete standstill. one second the two of you were lying on his bedroom floor, your legs raised up against the wall as he tangled his with yours as you rested your head on his outstretched arm. the feeling of having you rest all your weight on him, so relaxed and unguarded- clark can not think of a better use for his muscle mass. he ignored the little pangs of soreness creeping in from lying on wooden floor for hours because it's only the beginning of what he would endure to spend lifetimes with you.

he looks over, your eyes trained onto the ceiling and you feel yourself drifting off to sleep, eyes closing gently. the safety net of clark's bedroom and the body milimetres from yours that promises no harm will come to makes you feel featherlike; floating off the ground where nothing can touch you.

"what?" you mumble, a small smile growing on your lips as you feel the warm stare heat at your skin.

"nothing," he returns immediately, suddenly bashful though he doesn't take his eyes away from you at any point. longing burns in his body to reach out and hold you closer, let his hands dip lower than a friendly hug and kiss you- not on the cheek to say goodbye but right smack centre on your lips, on your neck, anywhere you'll let him have you.

one of your eyes open in a wink and you take a peek at him, "clark, i can feel you burning holes into my head," and you close it again, focusing on the slight tense of his arm beneath you and you use him as a pillow.

comfort and ease fills clark and he decides that he's never really loved anyone like the way he has with you before. i mean sure he loves lois, his mother, his dog, sometimes jimmy, but he doesn't see himself sharing a home with them- locking up and sleeping on the side facing the bedroom door, coming home from work and cooking their favourite meals to see them smile, dragging his body after a long day of saving the damn world just to see his own. clark kent would burn the world for you, set it alight and probably himself on fire too if you'd ask him to just so you wouldn't get your hands dirty with it. he doesn't look at his friends and think how their hands would feel in his, how they would feel up against a wall with him, how when they're apart he feels as though the whole universe is off tilt and he can't even breathe.

you're burning holes into my heart, he thinks.

and when the silence skips a beat and feels too long, the words are the tip of his tongue, but instead he reaches out and kicks your foot gently before you attack in a vicious game of footsies.

you soften as you meet his gaze once more and he nudges closer to you so you're less than an inch away from him before he whispers in the air,

"you're my best friend."

...

over the coming months, he's tried to tell you how he feels.

his invitations of going out on a date are always undermined by you thinking its just two friends hanging out.

he wakes up an extra half hour early to join your commute and you think its because he loves the fresh coffee you make from your fancy machine for him when you spot him- you are terrible at making coffee- it tastes like pure gasoline, so much that he knows theyre bad for the environment but clark tries to think of ways of letting you down gently, recommending you just use the pods instead of grinding down the beans yourself.

he carried around the mistletoe at christmas, hoping to catch you under the right doorframe- hang it over your head and lay his heart bare on yours. except you're allergic, sneeze profusely right in the direction of his face and almost die in embarrassment. you hide for the rest of the day and clark has to bribe you with ice cream and endless reassurement to let you know it's all okay.

he tries to get lois to set you up on a blind date (and just like in the movies, he'll turn up) but all you could do was blink in confusion- "i have clark, i don't need to date," and he fucking loved the words leaving your mouth, like the sentiment is truly there but you're just not completely aware. he did however have to pull an emergency stop in the elevator, regulate his breathing and stop his heartbeat from bursting in his ears- because you had him. and the acknowledgement set his soul alight.

he even switched tactics- desperate times called for desperate measures. he wore your favourite coloured shirt, one that fit just a little too right. leaned up to grab your favourite coffee mug, flexing his bicep as he lowered it and pretended to inspect the design on it, knowing damn well he's the poor lovesick fool who bought you it. he rolled his sleeves, baring his forearms as he towered over your chair, leaning in extra close to point at some correction on your computer screen that displayed your latest article. it was rewarding- he got stares, stutters and a rosy blush that melted his brain to jelly as he tried hard to photograph that memory and hang it in the walls of his mind- a room built just for thoughts of you. and soon, if not already, you would have taken over the space completely, all unknowingly.

the words are on the tip of his tongue every single day; rotating between an "i love you more than i can understand how to," "i want forever with you" and "am i really about to blow up this friendship?"

the last always gets him, always.

even when lois places a firm touch in support to his shoulder- "they're crazy about you clark, you just don't see it because you're wrapped up in your own feelings." and all he can focus on is how your touch doesn't feel anything like lois' and it sends him into another spiralling frenzy. how could you make him feel this way and not have a single idea?

his resolve almost breaks when you're sitting across him.

"catch you for dinner when you get off?" he calls out as he passes your desk on his way to where the printers are. its quicker if he just walks in a straight line but he loves to make a detour to catch sight of you- but when lois asks with a knowing grin he's getting in his extra steps and all that.

"would love too but, can't," you raise your voice, eyes scanning the screen and clark can see the glare reflecting in your glasses. its blinding. but its your voice that stops him so suddenly in his tracks and he turns around stealthy, almost knocking poor jimmy trying to navigate alongside him.

"why not?" he asks incredulous- it's the first time in history you've ever blown him off.

"have to pack," you shrug, fingers aggressively smashing the keyboard and clark starts to walk his way back over to you. leaning obnoxiously over the computer head to get in your line of view. you try and swat him away offhandedly but he grabs your wrist, caught in air motion and the skin to skin connection rumbles across your veins.

"okay?" he drags out, ignoring how his stomach flutters in his body, knocking into all his internal organs to let them in on whats happening to clark kent right now. "packing for what?" he quizzes.

"interview out of state, celebrity clientele so i have to accomadate for their schedule," you slowly take back your arm from his hold and clark immediately misses the heat radiating from your body as you leave him to ice out under the cold once more.

"when are you leaving?"

"two,"

"pm?" and you shake your head,

"am," you correct.

"but that's in like ten hours."

"wow clark, i didn't know you could count," you quizz your brows sarcastically, "whats up with the interrogation, kent?"

"well i am a journalist," he defends, "and for safety reasons i'll need travel details, hotels, anything."

"or," you look up to him, neck craning at the distance which he stands so tall at, "i will see you on thursday when i get back." thursday is four days away. his heart cries and lurches at the thought of not being in your vicinity but he swallows like the grown and very brave man he is.

"thursday," he repeats slowly, "thursday." if he repeats it enough like a mantra and engrave it into his soul or say it like a prayer, maybe thursday would come a lot quicker and he wouldn't have to pretend like he isn't bursting at the seams.

"hey," you pause, "you okay?" your voice lowering an octave, he recognises it as the soft one you reserve just for him and momentarily it calms the stormy waters keeping them at bay.

"yeah," he breaths, hoping it doesnt sound as high pitched and reeking of lies as it did in his head when he rehearsed it fifty thousand times, "yeah."

...

he doesn't get to see you off, a vigilante attack steals his attention that he misses you leaving your apartment and before he knows it you've disappeared into the tedious timings of the airport.

he settles for the facetime calls where he gets a sliver of your face, a ramble of your voice and the smile that makes him believe that this will all be over soon and he can get back to living his purpose in life: being with you.

the space is good, he thinks. the space is nice- it's healthy. it's made him even more sure of the feelings he feels and he knows that this building between you is more than friendship; its real life fucking love and pure romance from the novels. its in the mundane moments that you make feel so special- in the highs and adrenalines of life where he only ever sees you.

its in the way he suddenly feels complete when he sees your body standing at baggage claim. it's only been four days but it feels like a lifetime without you- the constant force in his life that before he knows it, his legs are picking up at lightning speed crossing the distance within seconds.

"hey!" he calls out, tossing and tackling between busy bodies in the crowd and you turn around slowly at the sound of your best friend towering over everyone. a smile grows on your face, spreading pure sunshine all over and you abandon your case- start sprinting to meet him in the middle. the pace is off, his strides are quicker than yours that he's sent barrelling into you as he pulls you in to a stop. you're airborne suddenly, lifting you off the ground as he feels your laughter in his neck.

"i missed you too, clark," your voice rumbles, the vibrations tickling your spine as he lowers you into the ground with a bone crushing hug.

the emotions are flying everywhere for him and there's a look in his eyes you can't pinpoint. theres soft clark, ambitious clark, clark who mysteriously disappears and is on edge, clark who's the smartest guy in the damn room, clark who drinks your coffee even though you know its horrible as shit- you just keep making it to see how long he'll keep up the act, when he decides to just give in. clark who looks at you like you've hung the stars in his sky, who carried around mistletoe all christmas but you stupidly thought it was for lois lane. you've seen all the versions of clark and loved them all the same; but this wild look in his eyes- this feels new and unfamiliar.

but it's the clark that's about to create a whole new balance and orbital shift in your universe.

"i'm in love with you," the words spill out quickly like he's drowning in his thoughts- the cage is locked and its overflowing and his body feels just too heavy to swim up to the surface and out, "and i thought i could bury it down, hide it if thats what it would mean for us to always stay best friends and keep what we have but i just can't do it anymore. those four days? they felt like a lifetime of hell. i don't know who i am without you like i'm me but i just like who i am a hell of a lot better when you're with me. i love you and i've been dying to say it- hoping you'll feel the same way and i get it if you don't i mean who could be worthy of your love? you're fucking incredible-"

"clark-"

"and i'm sorry for laying this all on you right now, i would wait thousands of years in silence- pure burning yearning silence just to be with you and it would be a fucking nightmare-"

"clark-" you try again, with more urgency

"but i'd do it a million times over because existing without you seems a far worse feat and i-"

you crash your lips into his and damn sparks fly- clark's pretty sure a solar system has just burst itself, possibly his as his lips mould against yours like a perfect slot. its everything he's imagined it to be and he never wants to separate himself from you. just how long does he think he can go without air? maybe, today he should put it to the test. you don't know when he slips off the glasses, angling his face to yours to make this more comfortable for you until a throat clears and you jump back slightly. a mother stands with her child, shooting the two of you disapproving glances but you're too preoccupied with your best friend to even find the smallest fuck to give.

"oh just shut up, you giant idiot," you mumble against his lips and break apart, clark moves to rest his forehead on yours still stealing a glance into your softened eyes, though theres a glint of giddiness that undeniably shines through.

"yes, ma'am," he mumbles in his flushed daze.

"i'm in love with you too," you breathe. "have been for a while but the moment's never just felt-"

"right," he finishes, voice synchronising with yours as yiur heart beats start to dance to your own tune. "is this okay?" he murmurs, as you rest your head on his chest and he rocks you in his embrace.

it feels like that night in his bedroom those months back, though he doesn't need to be in his apartment- he has you in his arms and you're all he's ever known to be his home.

"it's perfect," your voice is muffled into his knitted sweater.

yeah, you are, he thinks. you're his best friend and he's fucking in love with you and whats even better is- you're also head over heels in love with him too.

note: ok i'm a little obsessed w this one- i love me a pining clark! i think next on my list will have be a little superman saving the world but clark kent coming back to you at the end of it idk yet- still deciding i need a good song to get me going- if anyone has any good recs LET ME KNOW ‼️‼️‼️

[bizarrelovetriangel]

restraint.

xavier wants to smash but keeps getting interrupted.

mdni. 18+ only. dry humping. cunninglingus. m masturbation. creampie. overstimulation.

sylus version / zayne version / caleb version / raf version

Xavier feels as if he's melting under your touch. You're sitting on his lap, grinding against the twitching bulge in his pants, while your hands are tangled through his hair. His hands snuck under your shirt and eagerly moves up to remove your top, until....

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

You jumped at the ear-piercing fire alarm blaring all throughout the apartment building.

"There's a fire?!"

"Maybe it's false alarm. I don't smell anything — " Xavier suddenly freezes up. "Wait, I might've forgotten about the chicken in the oven at my apartment..."

"What?!"

And there goes yet another interruption to ruin the mood.

Sure, it's his fault this time, but still...

Xavier's already lost count of how many times it happened just this week alone. If this keeps happening... he hopes you won't mind if he ends up losing his restraints.

You're sitting on the driver's seat of the car that you're using for work, and your partner tries his best to stay awake on the passenger seat beside you.

Tonight, you and Xavier have finally got a lead on the group of thieves that are specifically going after protocores and seliing them in the black market.

You managed to track down one of them, and now you're waiting for him to leave this hotel he walked into so that you can follow him to his hideout, where hopefully the rest of his comrades will be.

There's only one entrance and exit to this hotel, and the man's car is parked within your sight, so there's no way you'll miss him. But just in case, Simone has access to the cameras inside the building so she can ring you up if he escapes.

It's only been an hour and thirty minutes since he walked in the hotel, so you had a feeling you and Xavier might wait for a while.

You two have prepared yourselves for a long watch: Xavier bought a whole bunch of snacks to munch on.

At the moment, he's on the verge of falling asleep.

Not that you're surprised.

Looking at him with his eyed half-closed, you reached for his head so you could give him a headpat. However, his eyes suddenly opened as soon as your hand lightly grazed his cheek.

"Hmm?" His pupils dilate as he focuses on you. "Are you tired?"

You grinned. "Me? Nope. You can keep sleeping though, I don't mind at all. We might be here for some time."

He shook his head and yawns. "I don't want you to be the only one watching. I just need to stay awake, somehow."

You took a sip of your cold, caffeinated drink before offering it to him. "Drink some of this! It's pretty good and refreshing!"

He smiles and nods. "Great idea. Thanks."

Xavier takes the beverage from your hand, but he doesn't drink from it. Instead, he put it on a drink holder by his side, then he leaned in towards you and pulls you in for a surprise deep kiss.

His tongue slides against yours, tasting the drink that you had just taken, before pulling back to lick his lips.

"You're right. It's really good. I need more."

And then, he comes back in for more kisses and this time, he doesn't pull away for a long time. Xavier's hands are cupping your face, as if to keep you close to him, and his hot breath mixes with yours as he hums with satisfaction of your taste.

Before you know it, you're being carried over to the passenger seat and seated on Xavier's lap. You're facing him, and he had your knees on the sides of his hips, while his face is perfectly aligned with your chest.

You are wearing your hunter uniform and are covered in layers of clothing, but that doesn't stop Xavier from feeling you up.

He tugs on your waist to pull you close, then his lips find your neck. He guides you lower on his lap before his right hand goes from the back of your thigh to your ass.

His other hand takes your right and brings it to his knee, then slides it up to his thigh, and then to his crotch, silently asking you to palm him through his pants.

You grind yourself on his thighs while your right hand busies itself by stroking his hardening cock. Even with his boxers and pants in the way, Xavier couldn't help but moan loudly at how good you're making him feel.

" — need you..." Xavier mutters against your neck, face reddening and heating up as his heart races. Blood pools around his hips, which slowly starts to thrust up as you ride his thighs.

Xavier feels like he could come right then and there, just having you on him like that.

You just feel so, so, so good.

Just a little more...

"Oh! There he is!

"Wha — "

Xavier could barely register what was happening before you suddenly got off his lap and got back to the driver's seat.

You turned on the engine of the car and waited a couple of moments before following the silver car that just drove away.

At the end of the night, you two successfully captured all the protocore thieves with no problems.

And Xavier went home quite frustrated, almost falling asleep even with the cold shower on.

Xavier ended up looking over his friend's bookstore once again. It's only for a few of hours, but he finds himself quite bored and lonely, especially since there hasn't been any customers that had walked in so far.

Sure, he could read one of the books that he finds interesting, but Xavier decided to hit you up and invite you to keep him company instead.

You did mention wanting to buy a new book to read, anyways, so he might as well help you out in finding one this afternoon.

After doing some errands, you dropped by the bookstore and immediately vanished from his sight.

It turns out, you had several books that you wanted to check out, so Xavier lost you just within three minutes after your arrival.

He gave you some time to yourself as he ate the food that you'd brought to him. Afterwards, he joined you in the fantasy section of the store.

Since you were so lost in reading the third page of a book, you didn't notice Xavier coming up behind you and resting a hand on the shelf in front of you, trapping you between it and his body.

Xavier leaned down and nipped the shell of your ear, causing you to gasp with surprise.

"Xavier! You scared me!"

"What are you reading?"

As you began to ramble about the book on your hand, Xavier does his best to listen. Although, with how close you are, he found himself in a trance.

You smell divine, and the warmth radiating from your body.... he wants to feel more of it.

Xavier moved even closer to you and placed his other hand on the shelf in front of you so that there's no way for you to escape.

With your back against him, Xavier pressed himself against you.

Because the two of you haven't had the time to be physically intimate lately, Xavier's body yearns for you. He wanted to be next to you. He wanted to be on you. He wanted to be in you.

His left hand rested on your stomach, and his right went lower, to your hips, and then to your crotch, rubbing his the tips of his fingers against your clothed core.

"Xavier...."

"Hmm?"

"Someone.... might see...."

"No one's here. It's just me and you."

Your face burned as you let Xavier stick one hand inside your pants and trace your folds through your underwear before moving it aside to massage your clit.

You forced your mouth to remain shut as a moan threatened to come out. The last thing you want is to be seen and heard, and yet, you're unable to resist Xavier's fingers sliding in and out of you.

You could feel his stiffening cock pressing on your back as his hips push into you, and your insides clenches with need.

"Shall we take this to the back room?" Xavier whispers into your ear, hot breath hitching as he, too, struggles to remain collected.

"Yes — "

Not a second after your response, you started to hear several pairs of footsteps heading towards the entrance of the bookstore.

You spring away from Xavier as fast as you could and immediately straighten up your clothes, then you picked up the books that you'd momentarily forgotten about.

"Okay! I'm buying these books, thanks! Bye!"

Even though you're partners at work, there are times when you and Xavier would get put in different missions.

This time, Jenna made you lead a team to investigate a case in another city, while Xavier's skills are needed for a separate mission in a different location.

Your mission is estimated to last for at least a month, and Xavier's only took three days at most. And so, he finds himself lonely without you for the next couple of weeks.

The video calls and text messages are nice, but it only makes him want to be with you even more. Xavier knew he could easily just go to wherever you are, but it would certainly take a toll on his own body, and he's still needed on standby in Linkon, so he'll have to stay there and wait for you to return.

By the end of the second week, Xavier decided to drop by your apartment to look after your precious plants, especially after hearing your concern for them.

After watering them, your perfume has lured Xavier into your bedroom.

Clean and empty.

He sighs and lays down where you'd usually rest on, not liking how cold the sheets feel without you.

Flipping over to lie on his stomach, Xavier closed his eyes and breathed in the scent that never fails to put him at ease. You're not here, but he could almost feel you here.

He could imagine you lying there, underneath him, with your arms around his back and your thighs locked on his hips.

He pictures your pretty face smiling at him, then your eyelids would slowly close half-way and your lips would slightly part before letting out a gasp as his hands would carress the parts of your body that he knows are the most sensitive.

His ears recalled the sweet sounds you'd make for him, and his body suddenly feels ignited, fueled by the thoughts of you.

He imagined his hands tracing the curves of your body, his teeth leaving marks on your neck and chest, and his hips pressing down against yours, over and over and over.

Overcoming with arousal, Xavier starts to grind his hips against the mattress of the bed. In his head, you're there, legs wide open, ready to take him inside you.

Xavier lets out a shaky breath as he thrusted against the matress, making sure his cock feels the friction that you'd give him.

It's not the same. It doesn't feel as good as when he's fucking you.

But right now, at this moment, it'll have to do.

A wet stain had made itself visible in his sweatpants as Xavier continued to rut against the bedsheet that bears your scent.

He whispers out your name, almost as if he's hoping to summon you to appear in front of him, or under him. He wants you to tell him that you miss him, and that you need him just as much as he needs you. He wants you to tell him everything that you want him to do.

Whatever you want, he'll do it.

Just say the word, and he'll be on his knees for you.

"Nggnngg,,,"

Xavier's eyes roll back as his movements become erratic. The bed cries as his thrusts became harder, and suddenly, his sweatpants have gotten drenched with his orgasm.

Grunting, Xavier flips over and exhales heavily, letting the beads of sweat trail down to his neck and chest.

The release felt good, temporarily, but it's still not enough.

Xavier needs you.

And once he has you, he'll make sure you know how badly he craves for you.

Your team ended up wrapping up the mission two days earlier than planned. You all returned to the Linkon headquarter around four in the morning, when most people are asleep.

Naturally, Xavier is one of those people.

It's been a long mission and you missed him a lot, so the first thing you wanted to do upon your arrival home is to see your wonderful lover, even if it's just for a minute.

And so, with the spare key that Xavier had given you, you entered his apartment and quietly headed to his bedroom.

You couldn't help but crack a smile as soon as you see Bunbun on the pillow that you'd often use. Looks like the plushie has been keeping Xavier company while you were away.

Usually, Bunbun would be on your bed, which is why it usually smells just like the perfume you use.

'So cute...'

You stood next to Xavier and bent down slightly just so you could pat his head and peck his forehead.

You admired his peaceful, sleeping face for another minute, then you turned around and began to leave the room so you could get back to your own apartment.

But then, a hand catches your wrist and stops you from taking a step. Before you could turn your head, you were suddenly pulled into the bed.

"Wha — "

"Am I dreaming?"

Xavier asks quietly with husky voice, squinting his eyes at you.

You don't blame him for being in disbelief. After all, he expected you to come back in two days.

"Yes."

"In that case..."

Xavier shifts so that you're pinned under him.

"Since this is a dream, I can do whatever I want, right?"

Without giving you a chance to reply, Xavier's lips covers your own, giving you endless kisses that started off soft and lazy, and then gradually becomes a little more aggressive by the second.

Once he finally pulled away for the two of you to catch your breaths, both of your hands were brought above your head.

"What are you — "

You were unable to finish your sentence as you were met with Xavier's darkened eyes filled with lust.

"I won't let you get away this time."

With one hand gently but securely pressing your wrists down on the mattress, and another traveling from your left knee to your thigh, Xavier buries his face against your neck.

You feel his teeth capture your skin, bringing out a surprised gasp out of you.

In the speed of light, your pants have been discarded and your blouse has been unbuttoned, revealing your chest and your bra that's covering your breasts.

Xavier's clothes had come off too, leaving him only in his boxers, which already had a stain as his cock twitched and grows with the need to be inside you.

You pressed your thighs together as you feel yourself clenching and heating up at the thought of him taking you hungrily.

You need him, badly.

But you didn't have to ask for anything because Xavier already knows.

He knows you want him, just as much as he wants you.

One look into your eyes and he sees the desire that you have for him. He's more than familiar with that look, and he'll never get tired of it. He'll never take it for granted. He'll never take you for granted.

Everytime you two are separated, especially due to long missions, Xavier can't help but worry and feel lonely. He'd spent many years without you by his side. Only when you return to him is when Xavier feels at ease.

And everytime you come back to him after a long time, he never hesitates to make you feel just how much he misses you.

And how badly his body longs for you.

Xavier doesn't waste any time nor does he hold back on making sure every part of you is appreciated.

In no time, your lips are swollen from his passionate kisses, your neck and chest are covered in his marks, and your panty is soaked from the way his cock is rubbing against your pussy.

Xavier moans against your ear as he grinds himself against you. At last, he loses his last ounce of self-control and removes his boxers. Then, your panty is moved aside and he pushes himself into you, sharply.

You arched your back and groaned with pleasure, and Xavier repeats his action just so he could hear those sweet sounds again and again and again.

Your hands shook, pleading to feel Xavier's warm body, but he only tightened his grip on your wrists. Not enough to hurt you, but just strong enough to keep them pinned down.

"Just for tonight.... don't worry about me." Xavier grunts as his cock reaches the deepest part of you. "I just... want to make you... feel good..." He groans louder as your insided clench him tightly. "Please, let me...."

As a silent response, you raised your head and kissed him deeply.

Xavier starts to slide his cock in and out of you. He began slowly, just to make sure you're feeling comfortable, and then he quickly picks up the pace and his movements suddenly becomes rough.

Your entire body jolts at every thrust.

He feels so, so good that your moans couldn't be muted.

Your stomach feels full.

You can't help but slightly raise your hips, seeking after his warmth. Xavier used his one free hand to grasp your hips and keep you steady as he pounds into you, so hard that sweat started to drip on his body.

His own cries of ecstasy echoed throughout the room, joining the sounds of your bodies crashing against each other. The nightstand next to his bed screeches as it gets pushed aside while the headboard moves every time he drills his cock into you.

"Xavier, I'm — I'm close..."

After several rough thrusts, Xavier detaches himself from you.

One second later, his mouth is devouring your cunt and his tongue is massaging your clit, causing you to slip out a curse under your breath.

Once again, your hands twitched, wanting to reach down to hold his face and let your fingers comb through his hair, but Xavier kept you restrained as he eats you out.

And when you reached your climax, his tongue cleans you up perfectly. He closes his eyes and hums with satisfaction at your taste. He'd been craving for it for so long, and all the interruptions only made his thirst for you worse.

He won't be satisfied easily.

Not anytime soon.

Xavier brings his cock back into your pussy not too long after your orgasm, and he immediately picks up on the brutal pace he had earlier.

Overwhelmed with the euphoric feeling, your eyes roll back and your hips raised again. This time, Xavier couldn't resist holding your hips with two hands, freeing yours just so he could grip your flesh tightly and fuck you even harder.

Before he could stop himself, Xavier cries loudly as he comes inside you.

He made sure to push in anything that comes out back into you, even as his cock throbs painfully, starving for more of you.

Xavier paused for a moment to brush any strands of hair that had fallen to the front of your face. His movements are soft and gentle, full of love and care.

"Are you tired or hurt? Do you want some water?"

You smiled and sat up to pull him into an embrace. "I'm good for now."

"Good."

Xavier dropped a kiss on your forehead.

"Because I want more."

[todoriin]

NSFW, oral (afab!reader receiving), college/university au, friend and i were talkin about how phainon was good at maths so i started thinking about how i wanted him to write equations with his tongue

"w-when you asked for my help- titans- with your assignment, i didn't think it w-would be like this," you grumbled, tone airy and words whispy.

"like what?" he asks, barely taking his head away from between your legs.

"like this!" your thigh tenses in his grasp when he suckles on your clit, sharp, sucking sounds making you even more embarrassed as you feel your core getting wetter and wetter, his saliva mixed with your essence.

your fingers pull at his hair and he moans into you, the vibrations like lightning to the end of your nerves.

"i'm solving the problems though? working out and everything."

"what are you- mmh!" your caught off guard when he licks a hot, broad stripe up your slit, tongue slipping back in afterwards. his name passes by your lips like a mantra as he begins drawing curves and miscellaneous shapes in your walls.

wait- did he just write the number '5'?

the muscle then licks a vertical line, followed by a horizontal one, and he's writing the subtraction symbol, seriously? what are you? some working out sheet?

he draws an equal sign, followed by a sloppy sequence of numbers you cannot differentiate, and he ends it with a kiss to your abused clit, causing your empty walls to clench, pathetically begging for more stimulation.

"good little helper," phainon whispers huskily, voice thick with lust. "i should use you like this more often, i'm being real productive."

you hit his back with your heel impatiently, trying to lure him in to where you need him most. he chuckles, pinching your inner thigh in retaliation.

"patience. i want to enjoy you."

"you're taking your sweet time."

he pulls your hips closer to his face, eyeing your expression with a smug grin. "the sweetest."

phainon lowers his mouth and begins his oral assault once more, this adjusted position allowing him to go even deeper, and you can not conjure any more snide remarks when he brings his thumb to your clit. meanwhile, his tongue is still answering more questions, and your slipping rationality deduces he just wrote a square root symbol.

"come on," he whispers against your opening. "i'm almost done with this question set, come for me, sweet thing."

he keeps pleading with your pussy, and the pleasure begins to hike, climbing and climbing and climbing until it finally crests, and you're crying as you gush all over him. phainon happily drinks every drop of your release, moaning happily as he licks you clean, like he was the one who just came instead of you.

as his saliva is slathered all over your inner thighs, you jolt when you feel his tongue lick at your abused cunt again.

"phai- please, i-i'm sensitive!"

he hushes you. "i still have five pages to go through, you said you were happy to help me, right?"

© todoriin 2025, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site, do not feed to AI

[stargirlygirl]

zayne's secret tattoo

zayne x fem!reader

summary: you find out about your husband's secret tattoo while he's building a bed frame

contains: suggestive, fluff, 1.6k words

builds on this domestic drabble

You’re sitting on your vanity chair, a steaming mug of fresh jasmine tea in hand, while you watch your husband read a bookshelf instruction manual like he’s trying to decode an ancient language. You two went shopping last week for a new bed frame since your previous one broke all of a sudden.

You chuckle softly while reminiscing on the events that had led to the bed frame’s breakage in the middle of… pg-13 bedroom activities, of course. Zayne’s gaze drifts over to you, the manual concealing the loving, almost smile on his lips.

“What is it, Dear?” He asks affectionately, returning his attention to steps five through eleven.

You mumble shyly, “Nothinggggg.” Those bright hazel eyes flick up to you.

“Nothing?” You shake your head and take a sip of your tea. It’s the perfect temperature, warming your insides as you avoid your husband’s interrogative stare.

It’s quiet for a few minutes as you observe him from your safe spot on the sidelines. The overhead light casts a gentle glow over Zayne’s sharp features, softening them a fraction as he stands up.

He announces, “I’m ready to begin.”

“Okay, babe. D’you want me to hold the instructions?” You ask, extending a hand toward him. He nods and comes over to you, handing the flimsy manual to you like it’s a map to unclaimed pirates’ treasure. You catch his hand before he can return to the organised mess of wood planks and a million screws.

Gazing up at him with big eyes and pouty lips, you ask, “Kiss?” Your partner sighs, his shoulders relaxing a fraction before he leans down and pecks your lips sweetly. As he straightens up, you tug on his hand again, gentler this time.

“One more? For good luck?” Zayne averts his eyes momentarily, a pink creeping up to the tips of his ears and cheekbones.

“How many kisses will it take for you to be satisfied?” He muses.

You let go of his hand and huff moodily, “Fine. You can get to work now.” Your husband takes the half-full mug from your hand and sets it down on the vanity. You refuse to meet his gaze, instead feigning interest in the carpet. His cool fingertips brush your hairline, sending shivers running along your limbs and spine.

He murmurs, “Will you look at me?” You shake your head defiantly while your eyes remain glued to the nearby rug. Zayne’s plump lips press against your forehead tenderly for a few seconds before he pulls back.

As he returns to the bed frame components, you glance at his back with a sheepish grin on your lips. His sleep pants are slung low on his hips (just the way you like it), and his long-sleeve shirt stops just after the waistband. One lift up, and you can see the veins dotting his lower tummy, trailing down to—Ahem.

Your husband gets to work on the bed frame, his soft grunts accompanying any heavy lifting. It proves to be most interesting to you, watching his shirt inch up higher on his toned abdomen as he screws in screws and sets planks in their correct position.

Zayne bends over to pick something up, his dump truck on full display, when you notice something peaking out of his sleep pants. On the right, a small black mark. Was it his tag?

“Wait, babe,” you call out to him. Your husband turns around, a small screw dwarfed by his palm and curiosity in his gaze as you flutter over to him.

You motion for him to “Turn around.” His brows pinch together slightly, hesitance lingering there.

Complying, he sighs tiredly, “What’re you up to now, my love?” You beeline for the black spot visible atop the waistband of his pants. Your fingers curl over the band, trying to push his tag in to no avail.

“Darling…” Zayne says in a scolding tone. You pull his pants down a little to reveal a… blob? Wait, that can’t be right. Your husband pivots to face you upon realising what you’re doing.

“Zaynie,” you pout.

“No,” he breathes out. You reach for his waistband, but he grabs your wrist first.

You exclaim, “Just let me see! What’s that mark?” He shakes his head resolutely. Closing the distance between you, Zayne takes hold of your other wrist and presses your hands together behind your back. His solid body ghosts yours, and his cheeks are rosy from the past 20 minutes of hard work (for sure, mm-hmm, just that).

“It’s nothing,” he says sternly.

“Zaynie,” you whine. “What’re you hiding from me?” Leaning closer, your voice drops as you ask, “Is it… necrosis?”

“No. Of course not, Dear.” He stares at you slightly wide-eyed, horrified by the fact that it even crossed your mind.

You insist, “So then, what is it? One of the ribbon belt loops or something? Why’re you being so secretive? You shouldn’t keep secrets from your wife, you know.” Ooooo low blow. You know it. He feels it.

Zayne’s thumbs stroke your inner wrists; a silent plea for a truce. A moment of sheer eye contact and rapidly beating hearts passes. You sign along the dotted line when you glance down at his neckline. His collarbone pokes out, the skin stretched taught over the bone.

Finally, your husband admits, “It was a drunk mistake.” Your gaze returns to his eyes.

“Ominous. Tell me more.” His lips press together in a line as he contemplates his next words.

He begins, “It was a few years ago. I was supposed to visit my parents in the Arctic, but Wanderer attacks spiked.” The sound of cars whirring and honking travels up to your shared apartment, filling the space between you two. His hands slide down from your wrists and intertwine with your fingers. He brings your connected palms in front of you and up to his awaiting lips.

You urge him to continue with his story as he kisses your knuckles, “Soooo, you had to keep working.”

“Mhmm,” he hums into your skin. His tender kisses trail to your pulse point.

“Zaynieeee, come on,” you groan.

He murmurs against your warm skin, “I… missed them.”

Standing upright, your partner releases your hands and goes on, “One night, I attended a work party at a nearby bar. It seems the bartender misheard me and gave me vodka instead of Sprite—”

“How do you mix up vodka and Sprite?!” You ask in disbelief. “Or do you not remember the details very well?” You tease.

Zayne shakes his head slightly and says quietly, “Let me finish, Darling.” You nod and wait for him to go on.

“Regardless, I ended up having too much to drink and stumbled into a tattoo parlour.”

“Zayne!” You gasp, utterly shocked by such rebellious behaviour from such a controlled man. But perhaps you should have known, given his… bedroom behaviour.

He shrugs while avoiding your wide eyes, “I know. It was an accident. I’m very lucky that the damage isn’t obvious.”

“Damage? Let me see!” You step around him, but he moves at the same time, intent on shielding his not-so-secret tattoo from you.

You call his name firmly, “Zayne Li.” Your arms fold beneath your chest as you eye him harshly. He freezes in place, not used to hearing his full name fall from your lips. The air thickens as you glare at your husband, and he looks anywhere but at you.

“Fine,” he mumbles and slowly turns around. You practically jump on him; your fingers are in his waistband within a second, and you’re tugging it down a few inches to reveal a little penguin. A breath escapes you. Your sharp gaze softens.

“It’s beautiful, babe. Why do you hide it?” You ask gently. Your fingertips trace over the ink. Whoever the tattoo artist was did your man justice. The penguin is realistic, the shading immaculate and feathers looking crisp yet fluffy.

Zayne mutters, “It’s not appropriate.” Your laugh is underscored by mild outrage while you fix his sleep pants.

“Not appropriate? You have a penguin tattoo, okay, big boy? Not some gang symbol or gaudy design. And it’s to remind you of your parents, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“Do they know?” You ask while running your fingers along his hips.

“No. And I’d like to keep it that way,” he states. Feeling cheeky, you pinch his ass. He jumps up, his fists clenching as he releases a clipped groan.

You giggle at his stiff reaction, the heaviness of this new information dissipating as you walk around to his front. Zayne’s jaw is tight as he stares down at you. Seeing your adorable smile, he eases up.

“Happy now?” He grits out, though there’s no real malice behind it.

You nod energetically, “Very.” Standing on your tippy-toes, you pull your Zayne into a loving kiss. It’s occasionally broken by your small laughs. His lips drift to your temple and hover there.

“Can I get back to work now?” He asks. You grin and nod eagerly before returning to your position on your chair and supervising him.

Feeling playful, you tease, “Should we test it? The bed frame, I mean. To make sure it’s… sturdy.” Your husband drops a screw at your audacity. He keeps his back toward you, his cheeks embarrassingly red as he secures another wooden panel.

“Zaynieeee,” you coo, a big smile on your face as you finish off your tea.

“It seems I have no choice in the matter,” he mutters, despite knowing it’s the furthest thing from the truth. In fact, he’s even more eager than you are to test out your new bed frame. And test it out, you do. All. Night. Long.

It gets the stamp of approval for durability.

2k special masterlist // regular masterlist

star girl's final words: this is so cute omg! i had such a good time reading this one. i like this bubbly-grumpy trope for zayne hehe.

taglist - @heartyluv, @plzdonutpercieveme, @starryeyed-apple, @juniebugg, @terriblesoup, @sylvieisoffline

[navybrat817]

Silence the Doubt

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Pregnant!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky comes home to find you crying and wants to silence any doubts you have about yourself.

Word Count: Over 1.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, pregnancy, crying, insecurities, hormones, smut referenced, fluff, feels, domestic life, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: This is the second thing I've written this week with one of our men comforting a crying reader. What is up?! Part of the Soft Echoes, Strong Roots AU. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divided by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky had a soft smile on his face when he walked through the front door. You were craving ice cream earlier, and he could’ve stopped at the grocery store to get you whatever you wanted, but that didn’t seem like enough. Instead, he went outside of the city to the creamery you both loved. He was thankful that they weren’t out of your favorite flavor and even managed to get an extra pint. He also made sure to bring a cooler with him to keep it nice and cold. What kind of husband would he be if he brought you melted ice cream?

I can’t wait to see the look on your face.

His smile slipped when he heard your sniffling from the living room. His heart stopped for a moment and he practically felt the tremor in your body that happened when you tried to keep your tears at bay. Your pregnancy hormones weren’t always kind to you, which upset him. He knew it was logically something that many went through, but he didn’t like it happening to you. It made him respect you more than he thought possible because, while his situation was different, he knew firsthand what it was like not to feel in control of his emotions. 

“Sweetheart? I got your ice cream,” he called out, quietly toeing his boots off. He had an iron grip on the cooler when he went into the living room, his heart aching when he spotted you, your tears shining under the light.

You were in a robe resting back against the couch cushion, but it wasn’t your usual posture. It was like you were trying to make yourself smaller. Oh, no. Was there another clothing incident? You were upset the other day when you realized you couldn’t wear an old pair of pants because you were growing. He soothed you, all while thinking and telling you how beautiful you were to him. You were so fucking beautiful he wasn’t sure how he looked at you without crying himself. 

“Thanks,” you said, your smile not reaching your eyes and your tears staining your cheeks. 

Bucky waited for your silent invitation to join you, like you had done with him in the past after a bad dream or episode. As much as he wanted to be in your space, he refused to invade it. He slowly made his way to the couch after you nodded, no sudden movements because he didn’t want to upset you more, and set the cooler on the table. Once again silently asking for permission once he sat down, he gazed at you and lifted a hand to your cheek. It hovered, not touching just yet, practically shaking with the need to wipe your tears away. 

You answered by leaning into his touch, trusting him to comfort you, the way he had trusted you so many times before.

With one hand on your cheek and the other on your belly, he wordlessly comforted you and your growing child. He hadn’t known what it was like to be gentle for long after HYDRA, but you taught him how to not feel like he’d break everything he touched. Sprout was proof of that… that he could build something beautiful from the ashes of his former life. You were proof, too, that he deserved a life full of love and happiness. 

“Talk to me, please,” he whispered. He had to know what it was that drove you to tears so he could prevent them. And if he couldn’t prevent them, he’d be beside you until they stopped.

You let out a shuddering breath when his thumb wiped another tear away. “Do you think I’ll be a good mom?” you asked brokenly.

He froze and stared at you. He had been punched, shot, stabbed, electrocuted, and worse, but your question cut him to the core. It reached into the ugliest part of him and left him shaken and cold. He didn’t understand who or what put something in your mind or heart to make you ask a question like that. 

You looked back at him hopefully, but there were cracks he hadn’t seen before. It was a look he recognized because he felt it before. It happened when the poison of doubt spread, relentless and unforgiving. You were trying to hold yourself with threads and once they began to unravel they couldn’t stop. He had to help weave you back together. 

“Sweetheart, Sprout is going to be so loved by you. You’re going to guide and support them, foster trust and understanding. You’re not just going to be a good mom, you’re going to be the best mom. Not because you’re perfect, but because you’re you,” he promised. It wasn’t to bullshit or placate you. There was so much love in your heart and he had seen that love grow since the two of you found out you were having a baby. 

Tears filled your eyes all over again, but there was no sadness this time, his support the antidote to your doubt. “Thank you,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around him.

“Did someone say something?” he asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. Had you spoken to someone who triggered this thought? Because he’d sort it out. Words or fists, whatever it took.

You snorted, likely sensing that he wanted to make someone hurt because you were hurt. “Just my own inner voice. I just… I started thinking, what if I mess up? What if I don’t get it right? And then I just started crying,” you continued, sniffling as he held you closer, careful not to crush you.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked curiously. He woud’ve tried to comfort you the second he heard your voice. “Please don’t say you didn’t want to bother me,” he begged. 

“I know it’s never a bother. I just thought it would stop after a minute,” you assured him, making him let out a breath. “I swear, Sprout knew something was up because I felt all sorts of movements.”

Bucky smiled proudly. “Probably trying to make Mama feel better,” he said. If your baby had your kind of heart, the world would be very lucky. 

“Probably,” you said, smiling down at your stomach before you sighed. “I know I’m going to make mistakes because that’s just a part of life, but you and our child are the two things I don’t want to mess up in my life.”

Bucky kissed your forehead and shut his eyes. He understood uncertainty and insecurities. Some days they were quiet, and others they screamed at you until they drowned out everything else. Ignoring them was easier said than done. Speaking of them was the same. It left you raw, vulnerable, and exposed once they were out. To share that with him meant something. 

There were so many nights he stayed up with you, pouring out his heart and letting himself bleed while you held him and assured him how wonderful he was and that he had proven time and again that he was a hero. Your faith in him never wavered, never faltered. It made him stronger. 

You were strong, too. It didn’t mean you didn’t break because everyone broke in one way or another. But you’d never remain shattered, not while he was around. Not when he was there to help you build again.

“First, don’t apologize for feeling anything,” he gently said. Just like his feelings were valid in your eyes, so were yours, whether they came from hormone changes or bad voices in your head that he wanted to silence. “And two, I’m telling that voice in your head here and now that you won’t mess us up because you’re amazing. Hey! Mean voice in my wife’s head, you wanna shut up and listen to me? I’m already messed up enough, so it’s not like-”

Bucky chuckled when you poked him. “You’re not messed up. You’re my husband, the best husband, and you’re going to be the best dad,” you said fiercely, pulling back so you could smile at him. The threads within him tightened around his heart, keeping him in tact as he smiled back. You meant every word. “Did you really tell the voice in my head to shut up?”

“Yep. Had to be done,” he said, reaching for the cooler. “And as the best husband, guess where I got your ice cream from?”

You straightened up with a gasp. “You didn’t,” you whispered, your whole face lighting up when he opened it and pulled out a pint. That was the look he loved, one that made him fall in love with you all over again. “You did!”

“I did,” he confirmed, handing you a spoon. He was prepared so you could dig right in. “So, I did good?” he teased.

“You did so good,” you replied, moaning when you took the first bite. “Oh, my god. I’m so sucking your dick before we go to bed tonight.”

Bucky stirred in his pants. He couldn’t help himself because your mouth was both heaven and sinful. He also couldn’t help chuckling. If anyone walked in right now, they wouldn’t have known you were in tears before that. “I’m looking forward to that,” he said. He’d also return the favor and go down on you. “But how about I read you and Sprout a book while you enjoy your treat?”

You tapped your mouth with the spoon. “Right after you have a small treat.”

Bucky cupped your cheek, the tears long gone, and kissed you with everything he had. Each move of his lips and tongue told that you were beautiful, that he loved you, and that you’d be the best mom as you were already the best wife. He wanted you to feel safe, cherished, and whole because that was how he felt when he was with you.

“I love you,” you whispered when he pulled away. If he didn’t stop, he’d be between your legs and he wanted you to enjoy your ice cream first.

“I love you, too,” he said, resting his hand on your stomach again. “I love you both more than anything.”

A soft kick told him that your baby loved you both, too.

“And by the way.” Bucky kissed your lips again. “You look beautiful.”

Your face lit up again. “Thank you.”

Moments later with a blanket around your shoulders, Bucky had a book in one hand and fed you ice cream with the other while he read. There was a shine in your eyes as you gazed at him and ran your fingers through his hair, almost like you couldn’t believe he was real. He felt the same way when he was in your orbit, but it was real. Your love, your baby, it was his life. It was his everything.

And he would always be there to silence any doubt in yourself, the way you would always do with him.

We all deserve to have someone who gets us, sees us, and will do whatever they can to push the doubt away. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[xoey101]

☾𖤓 ; roommate!caleb finds your thirst tweets about him

a/n: inspired by an audio i listened to recently!

it’s a lazy saturday morning, and caleb is sprawled out on the living room sofa, essentially doomscrolling.

he finds himself engrossed in tinkering videos and the like when he comes across a random post that takes him by surprise.

“having a hot roommate is so hard, like just make me scream your name alr lol”

he cocks an eyebrow, finding amusement in the outlandish comment. actually, he’s surprised that a post like this even made it to his timeline to begin with.

who posts something like that where everyone can see it? he mutters to himself, deciding to investigate the account further.

eyes widening more and more after each scroll, caleb realizes that this person has more than a little crush on their roommate—they have an obsession.

his head nearly spins as he continues to read the countless filthy pleas.

“would fuck him til the foundation of the house cracks”

“can’t he just use those big hands to make me squirt instead of lifting weights??”

“he doesn’t even know that i can only get off while thinking of him, what a shame”

as he scrolls, he conjures images of what this girl might look like, finally giving in and checking the media tab. he’s not greeted with any face pictures, but a certain mirror selfie catches his attention.

isn’t that pips’ favorite dress?

he glances towards your room suspiciously before inspecting the photo further.

his hands shake as he realizes that the little purse slung over the girl’s shoulder has the same exact set of keychains he gave you for your birthday one year.

staring blankly at the screen, he hopes that looking at other pictures of this girl will prove his suspicions wrong, hopes that he’s just being crazy. but, it becomes extremely apparent with every snapshot he views that this is your account. hell, there’s even a picture of tara, if he wasn’t already convinced.

as soon as it clicks to him that you took your time to write out all these filthy things about him, that you typed these words with your own fingers, he feels himself harden immediately.

“pips, c’mere. i came across a funny account,” he calls out for you, throwing his voice towards your room.

seconds later, he hears you shuffling around, and eventually the patter of your footsteps echo in the hallway.

leaning on the couch behind him, you giggle in anticipation. “lemme see!”

he holds the phone up so that you can see over his shoulder. “look, this girl’s entire account is just thirsts over her roommate. interesting, isn’t it? she even has clothes like yours.”

your heart sinks to your stomach, and you feel your blood rush to your face.

“what the fuck, caleb? you’re such an ass.” you stop leaning on the couch immediately, already retreating to your room as your cheeks burn hotter than fire.

“pips. get back here.” his voice is firm, like he’s giving you a warning. you turn back towards him slowly.

“why’d you call me out here just to embarrass me?” you feel your resolve wearing down by the second, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “i’m sorry, okay, if that’s what you wanted to h—”

“it’s okay,” he blurts out. you stare at him blankly. “i mean, i’m not mad or anything.” his tone softens a bit.

“i’ve been… thinking the same stuff, y’know. for a while now.”

you almost stumble. trying to maintain your composure, your brows furrow as your mind races. as well as you know caleb, it almost seems like he’s playing a cruel joke on you.

“that’s not funny,” you sigh, circling your thumbs into your temples as you turn towards your door again.

he reaches out for you, grasping your wrist before you can walk away. “i’m serious.” he sounds more urgent than before, like he’s desperate for you to believe him. his eyes bore through you, begging you to take his words at face value.

still holding your wrist firmly, he searches your expression for some sort of indicator, some sign that you’ve felt the same way he has.

“tell me,” he whispers. “say all the fucked up things you wrote about me to my face.”

you shy away from him, gluing your eyes to the floor as your arousal and shame mix together messily. “caleb, knock it off….” you whisper with your heart practically beating in your throat.

“i can do all the things you wrote about, pips,” he offers, a coy smile spreading across his face.

and that’s all it takes for you to envelope him in a wet, sloppy, animalistic kiss. shoulders lowering in relief, caleb kisses you back, matching your fervor and franticness as the two of you hold on to each other for dear life.

he pulls away, gasping for air as his mind reels from the sheer lust of the kiss.

“i’ve decided,” he pants out before latching his lips onto the juncture of your neck.

“we’ll act out every single thing that you wrote about me.”

“and more.”

a/n again: this was gonna be a full length smut but i’m lazy lmao, if anyone wants a pt. 2 lmk :D

⟢ zoey’s masterlist !

[bishovapls]

Our Little One - Hey, Roomie

Relationships: Natasha Romanoff & Wanda Maximoff & Reader

Summary: The day after your drop begins on a hopeful note, you wake feeling more grounded, the emotional storm finally passing. But the peace is short-lived when some unplanned visitors arrive, throwing your fragile calm into disarray. With tensions rising, you’re left to wonder: will their presence undo everything you and Natasha have fought to build over the past few days?

Warnings: 18+, Mommy kink, Daddy kink, age difference, older WandaNat/younger reader, Light BDSM, Dom/sub dynamics, Light angst, Fluff, Smut, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Toys, Aftercare.

A/N: Hiii! Sorry this one took a while to come out. I know it has been a long time! But it turns out that a wave of kindness on here the other day somehow kicked my motivation into gear. Because of that, I finally managed to write, but I am being impulsive in posting this. Normally, I’d sit on a fic for a few days, reread it, and decide whether it’s complete trash or not, but I know my motivation might vanish if I wait too long. So if this isn’t my finest work, I’m really sorry! It’s the best I’ve got for now, and I hope you still enjoy it 🩵

Word Count: 13,421 words

P.S. This is a direct continuation of Oh, Malyshka…, so you should probably read that first!

NSFW below the cut, you can also read on AO3.

The morning unfolded in a hush, slow and syrupy, the kind of softness only a Saturday could offer. Light streamed in through the slats of the blinds in delicate ribbons, casting gentle shadows across the room. Natasha had already slipped away, her side of the bed long gone cold. She never could stay away from the gym for long, even if it meant leaving her girls tangled in bed without her.

You hadn’t moved much since she'd left. Wanda remained curled around you, her body pressed to yours, her heartbeat a steady lullaby beneath you. Her fingers idly combed through your hair in long, slow strokes. You could’ve stayed like that forever, suspended in the quiet, held in the warmth of her arms while the rest of the world stayed somewhere out of reach.

It was the soft creak of the stairs that signalled Natasha’s return, followed by the quiet, assured rhythm of her steps. She moved like always, deliberate and smooth, but the moment she appeared in the doorway, the atmosphere shifted. 

It was subtle at first, but something about her energy felt different. Tense, maybe. Definitely guarded. She stood still for a moment, framed in the doorway, her hair damp and curling faintly around her face, her workout clothes clinging to her skin. There was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes as she looked at the two of you, and then, without a word, she crossed the room and began rifling through the wardrobe with more focus than the task required.

You stirred slowly, pushing yourself up with a slight frown, your gaze following her every movement. Wanda shifted beside you, her touch still resting lightly on your hip as her brows knitted with quiet concern. 

She beat you to the question, her voice gentle but steady, “Nat? What’s going on?”

There was a pause, not long, but heavy. Natasha let out a slow exhale as she closed the wardrobe door a little too firmly and leaned back against it, her hand lifting to run through her hair. She didn’t look at either of you right away, eyes fixed somewhere on the floor instead. When she finally spoke, her voice was hesitant.

“My sister called this morning,” she said quietly. “She wants to come over.”

Wanda blinked and glanced at you, confusion clear on her face, before turning her attention back to Natasha. “Okay… and that’s a bad thing?”

Natasha shifted, her arms folding across her chest in a posture that looked far too defensive for the situation. Her gaze flicked to you then, briefly, before dropping again. When she spoke, her voice was softer still, almost as if she didn’t want to be heard. “Well… our malyshka (little one) is here.”

The words hit harder than you expected. There was no accusation in them, no malice, but they still landed with a weight you weren’t prepared for. Your stomach tightened, something inside you folding in on itself before you could stop it. You sat up straighter, masking the sudden sting behind a smile that felt too stiff, too bright.

“Oh. I mean… I can go,” you offered quickly, trying to make it easier for her. “It’s no big deal. I get it.” You forced a little laugh, waving your hand like it didn’t matter, even though something deep in your chest had already started to ache. “I’m not your wife. You don’t want your family to know about me. I understand.”

The silence that followed wasn’t long, but it was stark. Natasha’s head snapped up, eyes wide, and for the first time in a long time, she looked genuinely shaken. “What?” she said, almost too loud. Then, softer, apologetic, as if the sound of her own voice startled her. “No. No, that’s not what I meant. That’s not what I was worried about at all.”

She crossed the room in quick, urgent steps, coming to stand at the edge of the bed, her posture open now, hands hovering like she wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if she had the right. Her voice cracked just slightly around the edges, but it was full of warmth, of conviction.

“Do you really think I’d hide you?” she asked, incredulous. “She knows about you. Of course she does. I just haven’t told her everything yet, not who you are, but I talk about you all the time.”

Your breath caught. You hadn’t expected that, and Wanda sat up a little straighter beside you, her hand tightening on yours as she glanced between you and Natasha, her expression soft but searching. “Then… what is it, Nat?” she asked gently.

Natasha hesitated, then sighed as she dropped to sit on the edge of the bed, her shoulders finally relaxing. “I was worried you wouldn’t want to meet her,” she admitted. “It’s a big step. I know it is. And after last night, I didn’t want to rush you into something that might feel too much. Too soon.”

You stared at Natasha, lips parting but no words coming out. That twist in your chest had softened now, something fragile and aching loosening into something else, something warm, confusing, and terrifyingly gentle. 

It hadn’t been shame, it hadn’t even been uncertainty about you. It had been concern, plain and simple. She wasn’t afraid of what her sister might think; she was afraid it might be too much for you. 

And maybe she was right to worry, because now that the door had cracked open, your thoughts were unravelling too quickly to hold onto. You didn’t even know her sister’s name. You’d never heard her laugh, didn’t know what irritated her, what made her protective, or if she’d be blunt and cold or quietly judging. And if she was anything like Natasha… well, there was no chance she'd make it easy to get to know her.

And how would you even begin to explain what this relationship was, or how it had started, without it sounding like you’d just slept your way into their lives? What if she took one look at you and decided you didn’t belong here? That you were some silly girl playing grown-up, dragging her sister into a mess she didn’t deserve? 

You barely registered Wanda calling you until her voice grew a little firmer, a little more concerned. “Darling?” she repeated again, her hand stroking your thigh to pull you back. You blinked, snapping out of your spiral like surfacing from underwater.

“Huh?” you croaked, your throat tight as you dragged your eyes back to hers. “Sorry, I was just—”

“Spiralling,” Wanda said, smiling faintly, not mocking, just quietly affectionate. Her eyes narrowed a little with that teasing lilt she always used when she was trying to draw you back to yourself. “Your face gives it away, you know.”

You tried to laugh, but it caught in your chest. Natasha was already shifting behind you, her presence warm and steady on the bed. She reached out, her hand running slowly down your back, grounding you.

“You don’t have to meet her,” she said quietly, her voice lower now, trying to offer you an out. “I won’t be upset. It’s a lot. If you’re not ready, we can wait.”

But the shame had already risen, hot and bitter. Because it wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet her, you did. You just didn’t know how to believe you were enough.

“I do want to,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I just...” The words snagged in your throat before they tumbled out in a rush. “What if she hates me? What if she thinks I’m some… some homewrecker? I’m not your wife. I don’t have a job or a plan. I’m just a student with nothing to offer. And you’re both so—” Your voice broke as you looked between them, helpless. “You’re extraordinary. And I’m... I’m nothing.”

Everything went quiet for a moment. Wanda exhaled slowly beside you, like something in her had snapped taut. Then she moved. She shifted forward, fluid and sure, sliding from beside you to kneel right in front of you on the mattress. Her knees pressed to either side of your thighs, not quite straddling you, just close enough to make the space between you feel inescapable. 

Her hands reached up without pause, cupping your face firmly,  like she couldn’t bear for you to look anywhere else. And her eyes… they didn’t just shine with feeling. They burned.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” she said, low and steady, her accent thickening with emotion. “Not ever.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. You just stared, heart pounding.

“You are not nothing,” she continued, voice fierce but steady, every word laced with steel. “And you are not a homewrecker. You are part of us. Do you understand? We didn’t trip and fall into this. We chose you. We wanted you.”

Your lip trembled, and you gave a tiny shake of your head, but she wasn’t done.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” she whispered. “I see someone who makes us better. You soften us, make us laugh more, and feel more. You make this strange, beautiful thing we’ve built feel like something solid. Like home. Don’t you ever try to shrink that down to nothing.”

Natasha shifted closer behind you on the bed, her hand sliding from your back to your knee. Her voice was low and steady. “She’s right. You’re what makes us whole. We love you.”

Your breath caught, the words punching the air from your lungs. “You… you love me?”

Natasha’s eyes widened, just a little, like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Her mouth opened once, then again, but nothing came out at first. Then, finally, a small nod. “We do,” she said. “It’s okay if you’re not there yet. Honestly… I think we both fell faster than we expected to.”

There was something rare and fragile in her expression, a shy smile from someone who so rarely looked uncertain, and it made your chest ache in the best way. And something inside you finally stopped running. “I love you, too,” you said, voice shaking. “Both of you. I love you so much.”

Wanda beamed, her whole face lighting up like the sun had cracked right through her. She surged up to kiss you, slow and deep and breathless, a kiss that said everything she hadn’t yet. “I love you,” she whispered against your lips.

Then Natasha practically nudged her aside with a muttered, “Alright, my turn,” before crashing her lips to yours in something rougher, hungrier, still full of emotion, but fiercer, more possessive. When she finally pulled away, your head was spinning, your breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, your whole face lit up in a dazed grin.

Natasha grinned right back at you. Her thumb brushed along your flushed cheek, a tender sweep that made your stomach flutter. “I’ll let her know she can come,” she murmured, voice quiet but certain. “Come on, let’s get ready, yeah?”

You nodded, the nerves still humming beneath your skin, but you let yourself be drawn into motion, guided gently by the steady presence of the women who loved you. The three of you ended up in the bathroom, enveloped by the mist and heat of the shower, the glass already fogged as water poured down in comforting waves.

Later, wrapped in towels and a little more grounded, you stood in front of the wardrobe, entirely overwhelmed by the simple act of choosing something to wear. The anxiety crept up again, fast and irrational, curling into your chest as you second-guessed every option. 

Wanda, of course, saw it happening before you even said a word. She padded over, still towel-damp and radiant, her hands landing on your shoulders with that steadying calm she carried so effortlessly. With her help, you found something that felt like you, and with Natasha’s low, appreciative whistle echoing down the hall as she passed by, you felt just a little braver, a little more sure of yourself.

Downstairs, you and Wanda drifted into the kitchen, the quiet hum of the late morning shifting into something playful and light. You moved around each other with ease, bumping hips and exchanging knowing smiles, swaying to whatever music filtered in through the speakers. 

Somewhere in the background, Natasha kept appearing and disappearing, feigning the search for a coffee mug or her phone charger, but really, she was just watching. She held her phone loosely, pretending to scroll before sneakily snapping candid photos and videos, little stolen moments of you and Wanda in your element, soft and domestic and entirely yourselves.

The knock came just as Wanda was slicing into a red pepper, the blade tapping in a soothing rhythm against the chopping board. She paused mid-motion, glancing toward the hallway with a spark of knowing in her eyes, and then turned to you with a soft, reassuring smile. Her hands wiping clean on a tea towel as she crossed the kitchen.

“That’ll be her,” she murmured, voice warm and low, threaded with affection that grounded you even as your stomach flipped. She reached out to briefly squeeze your forearm, grounding you with her touch. “Breathe, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.”

You nodded, jaw tightening slightly as you clutched the wooden spoon with a white-knuckled grip. Nerves jittered in your chest, and before you could fully gather yourself, the sound came: soft footsteps crossing the hall, Natasha’s, you’d memorised the cadence by now, a door opening with a quiet creak... and then something unexpected. More footsteps. Not just one set.

Your brow furrowed as you straightened slightly, spoon pausing mid-stir. Muffled voices filtered through, then a light thud against the wall, followed by a very distinct giggle. Your blood turned to ice. Your body reacted before your brain caught up, posture snapping upright, heart clenching as your eyes widened. You knew that giggle.

You barely had a second to process before Natasha appeared in the doorway, her expression already softening when she spotted you. She offered a small, steady smile, one that said you’ve got this, a silent nod of encouragement, but then stepped aside, and your world tilted off its axis.

Yelena entered with a swagger in every step, leather jacket zipped up to the collar, and a familiar smirk stretched across her lips. Her eyes flicked over you with far too much amusement.

And right behind her, in all her casual betrayal, came Kate.

Your Kate. Your roommate. 

She strolled in with the same ease she used when raiding your snacks, her hip bumping the edge of the counter as she dropped her backpack on a stool like she’d done it a hundred times, and she may well have. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, lips tugging up into a grin.

“Hey, roomie,” she chirped, voice light as air and utterly unbothered. “Nice apron.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Then the bottom dropped out of your stomach. “Kate?!” you gasped, voice cracking somewhere between disbelief and panic. Your hand flew to the counter behind you for balance as you stumbled a half-step backwards. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

Kate tilted her head, clearly revelling in your horror. She folded her arms slowly, like she was settling in for a good show. “I am sure you have already figured it out, no?”

Wanda turned from the stove with a confused frown, her eyes flicking between the three of you as she instinctively stepped closer to you. Natasha was already scanning the room with sharper eyes, her brows drawn tight, the air suddenly thick with her tension.

“Kate Bishop is your roommate?” Natasha asked, her voice clipped, hard edges forming around every syllable. She stared at you, then Wanda, then back again, something rapidly unravelling in her expression. “This is the Kate you keep talking about?”

You made a strangled sound and buried your face in your hands. “Oh my god. This is not happening.”

Yelena raised a brow and gave a small, smug smile. “It’s very much happening,” she said dryly, eyes glittering with amusement. “And we’d like to discuss something important. Namely… how you three have been sneaking around, and very poorly at that.”

Wanda blinked rapidly, still clearly catching up. “What do you mean? What do you know?” she asked, voice hesitant and searching.

“Oh, everything,” Kate said breezily, reaching for a grape from the bowl on the island. She tossed it into her mouth and chewed with obnoxious calm. “After I called you two to come pick up a certain someone in full sub meltdown last night, I recognised your voices. You didn’t even try to disguise them, by the way, shame on you.”

Natasha's mouth opened slightly, but no words came. Her gaze flitted between you and Yelena like her brain had hit a lag spike.

Yelena waved her hand lazily in the air, like this was all routine. “And when I got the call from Kate, it all clicked. Her curious roommate with secret dommes? Your conveniently vague new sub and girlfriend?”

Wanda blinked again, slowly this time, lips parting with dawning horror. “So… this was a setup?”

Kate beamed, absolutely thriving in the drama. “A loving intervention,” she corrected cheerfully.

You groaned, turning away and leaning heavily into the counter, your hands gripping the edge as if trying to physically hold onto your last shreds of dignity. “I cannot believe you two schemed your way in here.”

Natasha finally found her voice, though it came out flat, stunned. “You’ve known since last night and didn’t say anything?”

Yelena shrugged nonchalantly. “We wanted to confirm it in person. And honestly?” She looked over at Kate with a gleam of shared victory. “Watching your faces right now? So worth it.”

Kate nodded sagely, already swinging one leg up onto another stool like this was movie night. “Better than any TV show.”

You stared at her in open betrayal. “I hate you,” you muttered. “This was so mean. You could’ve said something!”

Kate gave a smug shrug, her grin stretching impossibly wider. “You love me. And you know it.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “I want to die. Like, literally, I want the floor to swallow me whole.”

Wanda chuckled softly under her breath and leaned into your space, brushing a tender hand down your spine in long, calming strokes. “Sweetheart, it’s okay,” she whispered gently, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You shook your head, hair mussed and panic still prickling across your skin. “Nuh-uh. This is my villain origin story. I’m already plotting Kate’s murder. Not Yelena’s, though, pretty sure she’d kick my ass.”

Yelena barked a laugh and reached over to drop an affectionate arm around Natasha’s stiff shoulders. “I like her. Can we keep her?”

Wanda didn’t hesitate. Her hand curled tighter around your waist as she kissed the top of your head again, her tone leaving no room for debate. “We are keeping her. She’s ours.”

You blushed so hard your ears burned. The warmth of her voice, the claim she put on you, even in front of them, sent a flutter to your chest. You dared a glance sideways and caught the way Kate’s expression softened at the sight of Wanda holding you like that, her earlier teasing ebbing into something quieter.

Natasha broke the moment with a muttered “I need vodka.”

Yelena’s face instantly brightened, the spark of mischief and purpose lighting her eyes as she plunged her hand into her bag with the determined flair of Mary Poppins on a mission. “Oh! I brought vodka,” she declared triumphantly, producing a sleek, frosted bottle that gleamed under the kitchen lights. “Straight from Russia, none of that watered-down bullshit you get here.”

Wanda exhaled a soft laugh, her expression amused but unsurprised. “Of course you did,” she murmured with a calm smile, turning back to the stove. “Lunch is nearly done. Why don’t you all go sit?”

Natasha, still looking vaguely stunned from the earlier whirlwind of revelations, blinked once, then turned toward the dining room without protest. Yelena and Kate trailed after her, already chatting and laughing under their breath as they disappeared around the corner like the chaos twins they were.

You stayed rooted to the spot, your fingers clutching the edge of the counter a second too long.

Wanda caught the hesitation immediately. Her hand paused mid-stir as she turned to look at you properly, her gaze softening with that same intuitive tenderness that never failed to knock the air from your lungs. She wiped her hands on a tea towel, brow creasing slightly as she stepped closer.

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?” she asked gently, voice low and warm.

“They’re going to tease me,” you mumbled, staring down at the tiled floor. “Like… so badly. Especially now that they know.”

Wanda’s brows furrowed, her expression shifting with quiet concern as she prompted you to continue with a subtle nod. 

“They’re already menaces,” you muttered, your voice edged in anxious frustration. “But now that they know everything? That we’re together? That I’m your—” You cut yourself off abruptly, eyes flicking toward the doorway like the word might echo. “They’re going to be insufferable.”

Wanda stepped in close, her hands finding your waist, firm and grounding. Her thumbs moved in small, soothing circles through the fabric of your jumper.

“They might tease, sure,” she said softly, “but only because they love you. They’re excited. This…it’s something good. And they’re not laughing at you, Moya lyubov'(my love). They’re just happy you finally got caught.”

You groaned and buried your face against her shoulder, muffling your words into her collarbone. “I don’t want to go sit there while they plot how to make me combust from embarrassment.”

She huffed a gentle laugh and pressed a kiss to your hair. “I know. But maybe it won't be so bad. And if it gets too much, you can come right back here and I’ll chase them all out with a wooden spoon.”

You let out a shaky breath and nodded, melting into her touch for just a moment longer, letting her warmth push back the worst of your nerves. “Deal,” you murmured.

“Good girl,” she whispered, and the praise sank into your chest like warmth spreading through frost. She pulled away just enough to reach for the tray with the glass pitcher and a neat stack of tumblers. “Now, take these out there for me. You’ll feel better going in with something to do.”

You hesitated again, dragging your heels in the most reluctant whine. “Shoo,” she said fondly, pressing the pitcher into your hands. “Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

You exhaled dramatically but obeyed, clutching the tray like a shield as you turned toward the dining room, braced for whatever fresh embarrassment your friends were undoubtedly cooking up without you.

You could hear them before you rounded the corner, Kate’s voice bright and irreverent, Yelena’s deeper chuckle rumbling behind it, and Natasha’s quieter, controlled laugh trailing along like an undercurrent. 

But as you stepped into the dining room, balancing the tray carefully in your hands, the laughter softened, not stopped abruptly or cruelly, just a natural quieting as they registered your arrival.

“Ah! She’s here,” Yelena’s smirk returned instantly, her eyes gleaming with a familiar spark of mischief. Her lips curled up at one side like she was already plotting something. “Let me get you a real drink!”

Your chest tightened, and your throat suddenly felt dry despite the pitcher in your hands. You set the tray down with careful precision, your fingers lingering a moment too long as you arranged the water and glasses on the table. Your eyes flicked nervously toward Natasha.

She was sitting with her arms loosely crossed, posture relaxed but alert, watching you carefully. A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but her eyes were harder to read, calm, but with something unreadable simmering beneath. 

“She has one,” Natasha said in her usual clipped tone, nodding toward the water pitcher with a slight lift of her chin. Her voice was dry, almost teasing, but there was an edge of bluntness that made your stomach flip. “She brought water. See?”

Your heart skipped. You froze for a moment, caught between amusement and uncertainty. Was that a gentle ribbing? A warning? The way her gaze settled on you was so steady, so unreadable, half amused, half pointed, that you couldn’t quite tell if she was silently scolding you.

Yelena, however, barely paused. Her grin grew wider, teeth flashing as she slid a shot glass toward you with a deliberate flick of her wrist. “What, this?” She tapped the water lightly. “This is not a drink.”

Your lips parted, mouth dry, but you took the shot glass without hesitation. The burn went down fast, sharp and fiery, making the knot of nerves in your chest twist just a little less tightly. 

“Another, please?” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, holding out your hand with a flicker of false confidence.

Yelena threw her head back with a delighted laugh, clearly pleased to see you playing along. “See? She was thirsty, Tasha,” she said, shooting Natasha a smug look as she poured another shot.

You caught Natasha’s eyes again. This time, her gaze sharpened, thoughtful and quieter than before. There was a flicker of concern behind her eyes, but she said nothing. You swallowed the second shot quickly, ignoring the flutter of anxiety that followed. 

Sliding into your seat, you forced a casual expression onto your face, hoping you looked more relaxed than you felt inside. But your heart hammered so loudly it felt like it might betray you.

Kate bumped your knee gently under the table, voice softening into something warmer and sincere. “Glad you’re here,” she said quietly. “I thought you’d never leave Wanda.”

You managed a small, grateful smile, the warmth in her tone threading through your nerves. “I was just getting the water. Sorry for taking so long.”

Kate’s eyes twinkled with amusement, giving you a look that silently screamed "liar", but she didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Are you doing better today?”

The question caught you off guard, and your cheeks flushed again. You nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “Much... thank you for last night.” You glanced down, fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth “You shouldn't have had to deal with that, I'm really sorry".

Natasha and Yelena exchanged a look, but before they spoke, Kate’s eyes flicked to you again with quiet encouragement. “Shut up, idiot. I’m glad I was there. Look where it’s got us!” Kate giggled. “I finally know who your dommes are!”

You swallowed hard, trying to shove the flush of embarrassment and anxiety deeper down, far away from the surface.

Yelena rolled her eyes with exaggerated frustration, voice playful but sharp. “Exactly, it's all worth it! She wouldn’t even tell me who you were! Her own sister! I was starting to think you didn’t actually exist.”

Natasha’s voice cut in, a little sharper than before. “Why would I lie about having a sub?”

That hit harder than you'd anticipated. The word sub hung in the air like a label that didn’t quite fit. It made your chest tighten, your stomach twist. As if that was all you were to her. Not her girlfriend. Not the woman she claimed to love. Just... her sub, something she played with.

“Because you hate talking about anything, and that stopped me nagging at you to find someone,” Yelena shot back, her grin fading into something more teasingly accusatory.

Natasha’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing slightly as she replied, voice low but tense. “You are literally my sister. Our sex lives should not be a topic of conversation.”

Yelena rolled her eyes again, unbothered. “Oh, come on. I was just trying to help after the shit with she-who-shall-not-be-named.”

“Don’t,” Natasha warned sharply, voice clipped.

You and Kate exchanged a glance, both of you falling quiet as the conversation between Natasha and Yelena teetered on the edge of something sharper. Kate’s brows lifted slightly in a silent "yikes", and you gave a small, tight-lipped smile and a nod in agreement. 

Yelena, to her credit, must’ve sensed the shift. She raised both hands in mock surrender, her expression softening. “My bad, sestra. I know it’s a sore subject,” she muttered with a quick glance at Natasha, then turned back toward you and Kate, the grin slipping back into place. “Shots to reset the mood?”

Kate gave an easy nod, already reaching for her glass. You managed a smile that felt too wide, too eager. “Yes, please,” you said, voice a touch too high, too quick, like you were trying to outrun the discomfort still crawling up your throat.

Yelena chuckled, clearly pleased to redirect the attention, and poured four fresh shots with a casual flourish. The three of you lifted your glasses in near-unison, downing them with varying degrees of grace. Kate made a face as the vodka hit her tongue, Yelena grinned like it was nothing, and you blinked fast against the burn, letting it drown out the tightness in your chest.

Natasha, however, didn’t move to pick up her glass. In fact, she didn’t move at all. She remained completely still, elbow propped against the table, her chin resting lightly on her hand, but her gaze was distant, fixed somewhere in front of her rather than on anyone else. 

You glanced toward her, instinctively seeking her out, hoping for even a flicker of connection, a glance, a smile, some quiet reassurance, but her eyes refused to meet yours. She looked past you like you weren’t even there, and the cold edge of that dismissal cut deeper than you’d expected.

The silence around her felt deafening, thick with something unspoken, and your throat tightened as your gaze dropped. Your hands slipped quietly into your lap, fingers curling and uncurling in restless little movements you couldn’t quite stop. 

The tension sat heavy on your shoulders, pressing into the fragile seams of your nerves, and though you were still at the table, surrounded by the soft murmur of conversation between Kate and Yelena, you suddenly felt very far away.

But before it swallowed you completely, Wanda swept into the room, balancing five plates like it was nothing. You stared, momentarily stunned. You knew full well you’d have dropped at least one trying to carry that many, but she moved with ease.

“Lunch is served,” Wanda announced with bright cheer, her tone light as she set the plates down one by one. When she reached you, she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze as she slid your plate into place, a small touch, but it landed like a balm. Then she moved with purpose, settling herself at the head of the table, right between you and Natasha, like she’d known exactly what she was doing.

The shift in the room was immediate. The tension didn’t evaporate completely, it still buzzed faintly beneath your skin, but it eased. Like the air itself had softened. With Wanda there, anchored between you, the tightness in your chest loosened enough to let you breathe again.

“Okay, this smells amazing,” Kate blurted out with delight, practically diving for her fork. She barely paused before cutting into her portion, already halfway to moaning with appreciation. “Wanda, I love you.”

Before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out quietly but clearly: “Get in line.”

As soon as they left you, heat bloomed across your face. You didn’t mean to say it, not out loud. You risked a glance toward Wanda, whose soft smile hadn’t faded, her eyes twinkling as if she’d heard exactly what she wanted to. But then your gaze flicked toward Natasha.

She was still, her posture too rigid, arms folded tight in her lap like she was trying to contain something. Her eyes flicked briefly to Wanda, then drifted back down to her plate, bypassing you entirely. The tiny crease in her brow hadn’t budged.

You shifted in your seat, hands in your lap tightening, the sting of embarrassment pooling behind your ribs. You hadn’t meant it to be too much. You hadn’t meant to overstep.

But before the silence could settle too heavily, Yelena was already leaning forward with a grin that was all too knowing, her expression laced with mischief and mock affection, eyebrows raised in playful judgment, ready to break the tension in a way only she could.

“Aww,” she said, voice playful and loud enough to fill the quiet spaces, “you guys are already in the ‘I love you’ stage. That is so cute.”

Kate’s eyes narrowed at Yelena with a sharp but affectionate glare. “Will you behave for once, Lena?” she said, tone teasing but with a sharp edge that suggested she could sense Natasha’s unreadiness for this.

Yelena just grinned, unbothered and unapologetic. “What’s the fun in that? Sisters are made to be annoying. It’s literally my job.”

Kate rolled her eyes, half-smiling with fond exasperation. “You’re a pain in the ass.” But there was something warm in her expression, like this was their usual rhythm.

“It’s okay, Kate,” Wanda said softly, her voice calm and steady as she reached out to rest a gentle hand on the table near yours, a quiet anchor. “We’re in that stage, and we’re proud of it.” Her eyes flicked to Yelena, who was now chewing thoughtfully. “She can tease all she likes. But if she keeps going, I’ve got plenty of stories to make her squirm. So go on, mladshaya sestra.”

Your mind settled at Wanda’s confirmation and her teasing of Yelena, but you cocked your head slightly, brows furrowed in concentration. “What is… mladshaya sestra?” you asked, attempting the pronunciation with a hesitant, sheepish smile.

“Little sister,” Yelena answered with a theatrical sigh. “Wanda here loves reminding me I’m a whole four years younger. Like I can’t do maths.”

“Well, when you act like a child, you deserve the reminder, hm?” Wanda said, her tone lightly admonishing but warm, the kind of voice that made you squeeze your thighs together beneath the table, hoping no one noticed.

Yelena ducked her head, cheeks tinting a soft pink, and Kate laughed openly, delighting in watching her girlfriend suffer. “God, I love when Wanda knocks you down a peg. Watching you squirm is my favourite pastime.”

“Don’t I know it,” you muttered, remembering the mortifying moment you’d accidentally walked in on Yelena tied up on Kate’s bed.

Kate let out a genuine bark of laughter, and even Wanda stifled a giggle behind her glass. Yelena, however, was thoroughly pink-faced.

“You’re all bullies,” she huffed, crossing her arms with a mock pout. “I will not stand for this.”

Kate grinned, leaning closer to Yelena with a teasing glint in her eye. “It’s okay, babe. You’re not the only one who squirms when Wanda uses that voice.” She glanced meaningfully at you.

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your neck. “Shut up,” you hissed, desperate to change the subject. “Anyway, this food is amazing, Wands. Thank you.”

“It is,” Kate agreed with a dreamy sigh. “We need to come here more often. Nothing hits like Wanda’s cooking.”

“Thank you, Kate,” Wanda said, her smile softening even more. “You both know you’re always welcome.”

Yelena shot you a cheeky grin. “Especially now you’re not hiding this one.”

You rolled your eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of your lips. The teasing was relentless, sure, but it didn’t feel cruel. It wasn’t isolating. In fact, there was something comforting about it, the way laughter rippled around the table and swept you along with it. You weren’t the only target, and more importantly, you weren’t on the outside of the joke. You were inside it, part of the chaos, part of them. It felt warm, safe, like you belonged.

The rest of dinner unfolded in a gentle rhythm. Yelena animatedly recounted stories from work, Kate chiming in with amusing anecdotes from her recent escapades. While Wanda shared little updates from the coffee shop.

You let yourself relax into it, the safety of the shared space wrapping around you like a soft blanket. Natasha’s silence still pressed at the edges of your comfort, but for now, the ache had softened just enough to let you enjoy the moment. 

Eventually, Kate and Yelena said their goodbyes, leaving you alone with Wanda and Natasha. The three of you moved around the kitchen in a quiet, unspoken rhythm, Wanda washing the dishes, you drying, and Natasha putting them away.

Soft music played in the background, filling the space with a strange domestic calm that only seemed to deepen the hollow pit forming in your stomach because Natasha was still quiet. 

You swallowed hard and broke the silence. “Nat… do you want me to go?” you asked quietly, holding a plate in your hands, drying it slowly.

Natasha looked up, startled, eyes wide as if your question had caught her off guard. "No. Why would I want that?” Her voice was tentative, laced with genuine confusion.

You lowered your gaze, searching for the right words as you tried to say what you’d been asked to express. “You… you seem like you don’t really want me here right now,” you admitted, voice soft but trembling slightly. “You called me your sub, not your girlfriend. You didn’t say you loved me. And you’ve barely looked at me. If you need space… or maybe this has changed things for you… Maybe you’ve changed your mind about us, I can leave. I’ll understand.” The words tumbled out in a rush, raw and honest, though you fought hard to hold back the sting of tears and rejection.

Wanda reached out gently, her hand settling on your shoulder in quiet support, but she said nothing, as if she knew this was a moment only for the two of you.

“Detka (babe)…” Natasha’s voice was quiet, almost brittle. “It’s not like that. I promise.”

You placed the towel down slowly, fingers lingering on the fabric as you tried to steady yourself. Then you reached out, gently touching her arm, not demanding, just… there. Hoping it might be enough to pull her closer.

“Then what is it like?” you asked, the question small and steady. You didn’t try to hide the hurt, there was no point. Your eyes searched hers, your thumb brushing lightly against her skin, as if she might speak more freely if you reminded her she was safe with you.

Natasha let out a breath through her nose and looked away for a moment, jaw tense. You saw the way her shoulders tightened, the flicker of something behind her eyes. Not coldness, it was conflict.

“I think…” she started, then stopped herself. Her gaze dropped to your joined hands, like they’d surprised her. “I think I was just… overwhelmed. Everything changed really quickly, didn’t it?”

You nodded slowly, encouraging her without a word.

“We were dancing around this thing for ages,” she went on, her voice low and uneven. “Then suddenly, it’s real. There’s no pretending anymore. No safety net. We had that scene, then the drop, then all this soft, vulnerable stuff between us—” she swallowed hard, eyes flicking up to yours, “—which I love, but it hit me harder than I expected. And then Lena showing up and being Lena... I just kind of shut down without meaning to.”

The corner of your mouth tugged into something small and sad. “I thought maybe it scared you off.”

“No.” The word came quickly, too forceful to be anything but honest. She stepped a little closer, like the thought alone unsettled her. “God, no. You didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t scare me off if you tried.”

Your breath caught at the intensity in her voice, and Natasha softened a bit as she noticed. She squeezed your hand gently.

“I’m sorry for my choice of words today,” she said, quieter now. “I was in my head. Not because I don’t feel it, I do. I love you. You are my girlfriend. But I was… Processing everything... very badly.”

You could see it now, the regret in her eyes, the stiffness in her posture that wasn’t distance, just fear. Just a woman trying to figure out how to let herself be loved again without losing her footing.

“I guess I’m not used to having this much good all at once,” Natasha said, the words landing quiet and raw. Her lips quirked at the corners in a tired smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s taking me a second to learn how to hold it.” 

You didn’t rush to speak. You just stepped in closer, your hands brushing against hers, and let the silence sit a moment longer. “That’s okay,” you said gently. “Me and Wands can hold it with you.” 

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, and you saw it then, the way her defences buckled just slightly, the flicker of something soft breaking through the carefully held stillness. She didn’t move, but her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and her lashes fluttered like she was blinking back something too tender to show. 

Then you noticed it, a single tear tracking silently down her cheek. Your breath caught, and without thinking, you leaned in, your lips pressing gently to her skin where the tear had fallen. Just a kiss, featherlight. 

You started to pull back, but she caught you. Her fingers curled around the back of your neck, firm and certain, and then she was kissing you. The kiss was slow, deep, full of everything she hadn’t said earlier, every apology, every reassurance. 

You melted into it instinctively, your hands coming to rest on her waist, steadying the both of you. She kissed you like she needed to remind herself you were real. When she finally pulled back, her breathing was shallow, and she kept her forehead pressed to yours. 

“Mmm,” she murmured, her voice thicker now, rough around the edges. “That definitely helped clear my head.” 

A soft chuckle came from behind you, warm and amused. You blinked, startled, having completely forgotten Wanda was still standing quietly by the sink. 

“I bet she could help clear your head even more, Nat,” Wanda said, amusement dancing in her voice. 

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks instantly, and Natasha’s hand didn’t leave your neck. If anything, her grip tightened slightly. You nodded before you could think twice, heart thudding. Your voice caught somewhere in your throat, but the answer was already there, yes, whatever she needed. Always yes. 

Natasha didn’t move for a moment. She just looked at you. Her thumb brushed along the line of your jaw as her gaze flicked between your eyes. “Yeah?” she asked, her voice lower now, like a current running just beneath the surface. “You want to help Daddy clear her head, kotenok (kitten)?” 

You nodded again, but this time you found your voice, quiet and pleading. “Yes, please.” 

The smile that spread across her lips was slow, indulgent, and unmistakably hers. She leaned in close again, her breath warm against your mouth, but she didn’t kiss you this time. She let the tension bloom between you, let it settle in your chest like gravity pulling you toward her. 

And then Natasha moved fast, so fast you barely had time to gasp before she was hoisting you effortlessly over her shoulder, one arm braced against the backs of your thighs. “Bedroom. Now,” she called to Wanda over her shoulder as she started walking. Wanda just laughed, following with zero urgency. “I guess I’ll finish the dishes tomorrow.”

—

Natasha’s mouth was molten against your throat, each kiss a deliberate burn that seemed to brand her name into your skin. She moved slowly, nipping and teasing like she was savouring every tremble she pulled from you. Her hands gripped your hips with a possessiveness; she was not letting you drift, not letting you forget who held you there.

“Such a pretty girl,” she murmured against your skin, her voice thick with heat, every word pressing into you like velvet and steel. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, printsessa (princess).”

The promise in her tone made your breath stutter, your body already tilting forward, aching to give in, to be undone, piece by piece. But just as her hands began to roam, slipping beneath your clothes, a voice, softer but no less commanding, wove through the charged silence.

“Natasha.”

The name alone was enough. Not barked, or even stern, just… spoken,  a quiet invocation in the thick air, yet it carried enough weight to still everything. Natasha’s body halted mid-motion, her breath caught in her chest. Her head turned slowly, eyes narrowing as they found Wanda’s face.

Wanda hadn’t moved, her posture languid where she sat down, too relaxed to be accidental. There was something sharp behind her softness, an edge to her calm. Her expression was all indulgence, but her eyes gleamed with something dangerous, something knowing.

“Why don’t we teach her how to please you?” Wanda asked, voice warm and amused, mischief curling around each syllable like smoke. “You’re the one who needs to clear your mind, after all.”

Natasha didn’t answer at first. Her gaze flicked from Wanda’s teasing smile to your wide eyes, still dazed from the pressure of her mouth, from the shadow of her promise. Her brow arched, she looked sceptical, perhaps, but the twitch at the corner of her mouth, the subtle flicker behind her eyes… that told another story. One of curiosity. Of challenge. Of want.

She licked her lips, slow and absent, like she hadn’t meant to, like her body had moved without her consent. “I was in the middle of something,” she said at last, her voice a shade lower and rough with tension. Her fingers flexed against your waist, not letting go, but not holding quite as tightly either. “And I can clear my mind just fine by watching her fall apart for me.”

Her words held firm, laced with defiance, but her body told a different story. She had shifted subtly, leaning back just enough to signal a change. Her breath came slower, drawn deeper, like she was steadying herself against something unspoken. It wasn’t surrender,  Natasha didn’t surrender, but it was something close. A crack in the armour. A quiet moment where she allowed herself to consider the idea of being touched instead of touching. And Wanda caught it immediately.

Wanda’s smile deepened, slow and knowing, the kind you’d come to recognise, the kind that didn’t ask permission because it already knew the answer. It was the smile that meant someone's fate had been quietly, irrevocably decided. 

She tilted her head just enough to soften the edges of her intent, her voice a silken thread that looped around the two of you with effortless command. “Maybe,” she allowed, the word light, almost indulgent. “But that can wait. Let her learn how to worship you first.”

Her gaze flicked to you. “She’s eager. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

The words ignited something low and hot in your gut. You barely managed a breath, let alone a sentence, before nodding quickly. “Yes,” you whispered. “Please. I want to. Wanted to for so long.”

Natasha’s eyes returned to you fully then. Something unreadable passed through her gaze, part calculation, part hunger. Her grip eased, and as she let go, her fingertips trailed down your sides, deliberately slow, a final reminder of what she was granting.

For a heartbeat, she didn’t speak. Then her expression sharpened, lips curving into something darker, more deliberate.

“Strip,” she said, the word low and certain. “Then get on your knees. At the end of the bed.”

You obeyed with hands trembling in anticipation, peeling away your clothes under the heavy weight of their attention. Wanda stayed behind you, unmoving but ever-watchful. And Natasha was now seated at the edge of the bed. Still in command. Still powerful. But now... she’d allowed you the honour of trying to make her fall apart.

As your knees met the floor at the foot of the bed, the moment crystallised, dense with meaning, with expectation, with the kind of sacred tension that made your skin feel too tight to hold everything inside. 

Your breath was shallow, caught somewhere between awe and hunger, your hands quivering just slightly in your lap. You weren’t just kneeling in front of her, you were being allowed to. The gravity of it weighed heavily in your chest.

Wanda was behind you, close enough to feel the heat of her body, the gentle ghost of her breath against your ear as she leaned in. Her touch was light, a soft drag of fingers across your shoulder, then down your arm.

“Look at her,” she murmured, her voice honeyed and low. “She’s letting you in. Do you have any idea what that means?”

Your gaze didn’t waver. You couldn’t look away from Natasha. She sat like something divine and unreachable, her legs parted just slightly, hands resting on the bed beside her thighs, spine straight. Her eyes locked on yours with a heat simmering behind them that made your breath catch.

“I… I think so,” you whispered, your voice cracking on the way out.

Wanda's fingers trailed across your waist now, slow and sure. “It means you don’t rush,” she said, her lips brushing your skin with every syllable. “You don’t take. You earn. Every inch of her, every sound, every breath she gives you, you earn.”

Natasha’s lips twitched as she heard Wanda speak, not quite a smile, but the ghost of one, like her body considered the expression and thought better of it. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The silence she radiated said enough. It filled the room with weight and expectation.

You reached out hesitantly, your hands grazing the fabric of her trousers. Even through the material, the heat of her burned into your palms, an invitation and a warning all at once.

Wanda didn’t stop you. Instead, her hands found yours, as she curled her fingers over your wrists, not controlling, but teaching. “Slow,” she whispered, the word curling into your spine like smoke. “She’s not like me. She doesn’t fall easily. She makes you work for it.”

You swallowed hard and let the instruction settle in your bones. Then, with trembling precision, you found the button of Natasha’s trousers, and it slipped undone beneath your fingers with a quiet pop, the sound impossibly loud in the hush. Then came the zip, metal dragging against metal, slow and deliberate. Your own pulse pounded in your ears, louder than your breath, louder than Wanda’s voice, louder than anything but the impossible pressure of this moment.

Your fingers slipped beneath the waistband. Slowly, carefully, you began to peel the trousers down her hips, your palms brushing over the impossibly soft skin you’d only dreamed of touching for so long. Wanda’s hand returned to your shoulder, grounding you. Her other followed the line of your spine with maddening tenderness, sending a shiver rippling through you.

“She’ll never ask for this,” Wanda murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear like a secret. “She doesn’t know how to. But she wants it. She’s letting you in, you’re lucky, sweet girl.”

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to the bare curve of Natasha’s hip, your mouth worshipful, barely daring to breathe. Then another, lower. Each kiss was soft, grateful. The trousers slid down her thighs inch by inch, your hands moving with care, as if the act itself might break something sacred if done too fast.

Her underwear still remained, a final barrier, a line of black lace like a dare. But even that felt sacred. Something not to take, but to be invited past. Your breath trembled as you kissed along the edge of it. Then you looked up, silent and wide-eyed, asking for her permission without words.

Natasha’s eyes locked with yours. She didn’t speak. But something changed. There was a flicker, a softening. Then she reached out, her fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your face just slightly. Her thumb stroked your cheek with such tenderness it nearly undid you. And then she nodded.

That was all you needed. Your hands shook as you slid the lace down, your lips following every new inch of skin like you were discovering the holy. You moved slowly until she was bare before you, and still she said nothing; there was barely a reaction.

For a moment, panic stirred in your chest. Had you done something wrong? Had you misread her? Were you failing and about to lose your chance?

Then Wanda’s voice came from behind you, soft and thick with warmth, as if she could sense the thoughts spiralling in your mind. “She’s holding herself together,” she said, her tone proud and knowing. “She always does. But she’s trusting you, and she will let go. Look closely, she's getting there, she just needs more. You’re doing so well, Little One.”

You turned your eyes back to Natasha, and this time, you saw it. The white-knuckled grip on the sheets. The rigid set of her shoulders. She was fighting herself, and right then, you made a silent vow to win that battle for her.

You shifted down slowly and began at the inside of her knee. A single kiss. Barely a whisper of your lips against soft, sensitive skin. You kissed again, higher now. Then again, closer to the warmth gathering between her legs. Each one lingered, drawn out and deliberate, your breath brushing her skin in hot, steady waves.

She still didn’t make a sound. But her hips shifted forward, her legs parted a little wider, giving you more space, more access, more trust. And you felt her, not just physically, but in the way her breath had changed. Every exhale came through parted lips now, shallow and reluctant, as if she was trying to rein herself in and already losing ground.

Her scent curled around you, thick and intoxicating, threading through your lungs and settling low in your belly. It wasn’t just arousal, it was gravity, dark and consuming, drawing you closer with every breath. Your own need throbbed deep beneath your skin, heat pooling between your legs, but you held yourself steady. 

Natasha wasn’t something to be claimed; she was being offered, and that made all the difference. She had let you close. Let you see her like this. And for that alone, you would go slowly. You would honour her, worship her.

Then, finally, finally, her hand found your head. There was no force in it. No pressure, no command. Just a slow, deliberate slide of fingers into your hair, her palm settling with a weight that made your breath catch. It was a wordless “yes”. Permission, spoken in touch, not voice. A signal that the door had opened, and you had been chosen to step through.

Wanda didn’t break the silence. Her hand remained at the small of your back, her palm a steady warmth against your skin, a quiet tether to the moment. And then, the smallest pressure, just a nudge. Just enough to say, “Go on, now. She’s ready”. Just enough to give you the final permission you didn’t know you needed.

Your breath faltered, catching softly in your throat as you leaned forward, the rest of the world vanishing until all that remained was the warmth of Natasha. Your lips found her, finally, and the first kiss was nothing more than a whisper of touch, featherlight against her heat. A reverent offering, sacred in its restraint.

She didn’t speak. But her hips gave a subtle twitch, and the muscles beneath your hands tensed, brief and involuntary. Not resistance, just the ghost of restraint still clinging to her. But she let you stay. She let you breathe her in, taste her again, this time with your tongue. 

You parted her folds with careful, deliberate motion, dragging a slow line from bottom to top, savouring the slick heat of her, the taste, the way she shifted ever so slightly beneath your mouth. You did it again, mapping her with your tongue, deliberately avoiding the bundle of nerves. You would take this slow, no matter how much you wanted to latch onto it and hear her moan.

Then her fingers tightened in your hair. Her grip trembled faintly, and it undid something deep in your chest. She was grounding herself in you. She was holding on, not because she didn’t trust you, but because she did. 

So you moved with more intention. You tilted your head and finally gave her the smallest flick of your tongue over her clit, light and precise, just once, a tease, a test. And that was what broke the stillness. She inhaled sharply through her nose, breath catching in her throat, and your chest bloomed with something that felt dangerously close to pride. That was yours, that reaction. You’d pulled it from her, earned it, and now you wanted more.

And that was when you gave in, closing your mouth around her gently, lips sealing over her clit, tongue flicking with a slow, coaxing rhythm. Her hips lifted, rolling subtly up into your mouth like her body had finally accepted what her mind hadn’t dared speak aloud.

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The more she moved, the more you learned her rhythm, the subtle tilt of her hips, the flicker in her breath, the places where her thighs twitched beneath your hands. You adjusted instinctively, your tongue chasing the pulse of her need, never frantic, but deep and purposeful. 

Then it came, not loud, not deliberate, but raw and unguarded. “God… don’t stop.” The words tumbled out of Natasha like they’d been torn from her, low and broken, bypassing every barrier she had tried to keep in place. 

It was a sound that went straight to your chest, wrapping tight around your heart and then dropping lower. You didn’t respond, you just pressed in deeper, tongue moving with renewed purpose, offering her nothing but devotion, nothing but worship.

She began to move above you in earnest, no longer holding back. Her hips rolled with frantic precision, chasing the edge she could no longer deny. That hand in your hair tightened again, guiding you just where she needed you, using your mouth like it was hers, because it was. 

Your tongue became her instrument. You let her use you, let her chase pleasure with a kind of desperation that made your whole body throb. Her soft gasps fractured into moans, each one louder, messier, more frantic than the last. The sound of her falling apart was addictive.

“Just like that,” she whimpered, her voice rasping as it cracked under the weight of what she was feeling. “So good for me… so perfect…”

The praise hit you like a jolt. Your breath stuttered, your cunt clenched around nothing, and a high, helpless moan slipped from your mouth right against her. You noticed it then, you were soaked, your need dripping down your legs, and you weren’t even being touched. She had reduced you to nothing but a tongue and a heartbeat, your only purpose to bring her pleasure. And you never wanted to stop.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” came Wanda’s voice at your back, once again grounding you in the swirl of sensation. Her hand rubbed slow circles along your spine, her touch tender and proud. “You’re making her feel so good.”

Natasha’s voice just grew more erratic, punctuated by sharp gasps and broken curses. “Don’t you dare stop,” she growled, raw and breathless, her confidence returning like lightning through the storm. “Right there! Fuck…right there, Kotenok (kitten), just like that…”

Then it shifted. Her voice rose into something higher, stranger, slipping into rapid Russian. You didn’t know the words, but the emotion was unmistakable, pleading, wild. Her thighs trembled around your head, her whole body shivering like a wire pulled tight.

And then she broke. Her moan was long and ragged, torn from the depths of her chest, her hips bucking erratically and helplessly. She held you there, trapped in the waves of her release, thighs quaking, gripping you like a vice.

You stayed with her through it, letting her ride it out, your mouth softening, kissing her gently through the aftershocks. Only when her grip eased, her body slowly going slack, did she finally let you go. She collapsed back into the mattress, limbs heavy, breath heaving in and out of her lungs like she’d run miles.

“Fuck,” Natasha breathed, her voice a rough scrape of satisfaction, chest still rising and falling in uneven waves. Her fingers dragged lazily through your hair, no longer guiding, just touching, lingering. “Printsessa (Princess)… you did so fucking good for me.”

The praise made something melt in your chest, your lips curling into a quiet smile. You exhaled slowly and let your head rest against the warm skin of her thigh, the scent of her still thick in the air, on your tongue, everywhere. 

There was a part of you that wanted to keep going, to see just how many more sounds you could draw out of her, how much more of her you could unravel, but her hand had gone soft. It didn’t feel like permission anymore. So you stayed where you were, sinking into the quiet intimacy, letting the rhythm of her breath calm the burning inside you.

Behind you, Wanda had moved, her presence now a gentle rustle as she padded across the room. A moment later, she was kneeling beside you with a cool bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and holding it out. Her hand rested lightly on your shoulder as you sat up just enough to take a few slow sips. When you lowered it again, she brushed a knuckle along your jaw and smiled, her voice low with affection. “There’s my good girl.”

The words wrapped around your aching body like silk, grounding and lifting all at once. She gave you a soft kiss to the crown of your head before turning to Natasha, who was still sprawled across the bed, glowing and flushed.

“There’s water if you need it, Nat,” Wanda said, her tone shifting into something firmer, more matter-of-fact, but still full of love. You understood it immediately. Wanda was balancing gentleness with respect, never coddling her wife, especially not when Natasha was laid bare like this.

“Spasibo, moya lyubov' (Thank you, my love),” Natasha murmured, her voice still raw but steadier now. She pushed herself upright with a slow breath, taking the bottle from Wanda and drinking deeply, her other hand finding your face again without hesitation. 

Her thumb traced along your cheek as if she needed the contact just as much as you did. You felt yourself squirm under her touch, heat rising again under your skin, your body still alive with need.

Then Natasha glanced at Wanda, a smirk curling across her lips, the kind that always made your stomach twist. “Wands,” she said, her tone light but teasing, “I think Malyshka (Little One) needs something.”

You whimpered and buried your face against her thigh again, like somehow you could disappear into her skin. But she only laughed, soft and knowing.

“Ah, ah,” Natasha crooned, her fingers now stroking through your hair again, more deliberate this time. “You did so well for Daddy. Don’t you want a reward?”

You couldn’t speak, your throat was too tight, your mouth too dry, but you nodded, desperate and eager. Of course you wanted a reward. You wanted Natasha, you wanted Wanda, you wanted the weight of their eyes, their hands, their mouths. 

You wanted to be used again, needed again. The slick between your thighs hadn’t stopped; it clung to your skin, sticky and hot, your clit throbbing so hard it bordered on painful. You were trembling, aching, body flushed, and completely, blissfully at their mercy.

“Wands,” Natasha said, her voice low but commanding, “get the special strap. I think you both deserve some fun.”

Your breath hitched. Wanda turned her head sharply, and the look she gave her wife made your stomach twist. Dark. Knowing. Hungry. Clearly, she knew what the ‘special strap’ meant, even if you didn’t. 

You remained where you were, still tucked against Natasha’s thigh, chest heaving as you tried to calm yourself. But it was useless. The moment Wanda disappeared into the closet, anticipation surged through you like a pulse of electricity.

When she returned, you saw it, a strapless dildo in her hand. Your breath caught. You’d never used one before. You’d seen them, sure, but it had always been a standard strap-on when Wanda took you. This was different. This felt more… intimate. More intense.

Wanda stripped and settled herself on the bed, back against the pillows, legs slightly parted. She looked effortlessly powerful, in control even when waiting. Natasha gave your cheek a light tap and nodded toward her wife.

“Go to Mommy, Detka (babe),” she said, voice sweet but firm as she gently nudged you away from her.

You stumbled slightly as you stood, legs unsteady from arousal, but made your way to the bed, crawling across the sheets on hands and knees. Natasha circled the opposite side and sat beside Wanda, her fingers brushing against her wife’s arm before taking the toy from her hand.

She held it out toward you, the smaller end gleaming slightly in the low light, and brought it to your lips. “Suck,” she ordered.

Your lips parted without hesitation, wrapping around the toy. You took it in slowly, letting your tongue swirl around it, wetting it thoroughly. You knew exactly what it was for now, and you wanted Wanda to enjoy it, you needed her to enjoy it. You worked your mouth over it with care, letting yourself drool a little, making sure it was coated. 

Both women watched you with hunger in their eyes. It was dark, heavy, predatory. It made your skin flush hotter, and your thighs press together, begging for friction.

“Good girl,” Natasha purred, one hand brushing through your hair. “Getting it nice and ready for Mommy, huh?”

You nodded, lips still wrapped around the toy, and Natasha’s responding laugh was low and dark, a sound that rolled through you like thunder. Her fingers gripped your jaw, holding you steady as she pulled the toy from your mouth, until it left you with a soft pop. You were panting, dizzy with want, mouth flushed and open, chest heaving.

Then she leaned across and caught her wife’s mouth in a kiss that stole the breath from both your lungs. Wanda moaned into it, her body arching, and you watched helplessly, heat blooming under your skin.

Natasha’s hand slid down between Wanda’s legs without hesitation, coaxing her open, fingers slicking through already wet folds. The kiss deepened. Wanda whimpered against her lips, needy and eager, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Then Natasha reached down, guiding the toy between Wanda’s thighs and slowly pressing it inside her. Wanda gasped, eyes fluttering shut as her hips lifted to meet the intrusion, her mouth parting in a broken moan. Natasha moved it deliberately, angling it just right as Wanda’s legs shifted wider, small sounds escaping with every breath.

You whined before you even realised you’d done it, the ache between your thighs now unbearable.

“Oh? You don’t like being left out?” Wanda teased, her voice breathy, sharp with amusement. “Didn’t you say you wanted to watch, sweet girl?”

You nodded helplessly, but the sound that left your throat was closer to a whimper. “I did, I… I do, but… not today, please, Mommy, it hurts.” Your voice cracked on the last word, your hips shifting forward as if your body could reach for something before permission was given. “It aches so bad…”

Wanda’s eyes softened, just slightly. “Oh baby,” she cooed, voice rich with mock sympathy, “Did making Daddy cum make your little cunt feel all empty and desperate?”

You flushed scarlet, nodding as you looked away, your whole body trembling with need. That’s when Natasha moved. She grabbed your waist with firm hands and hauled you forward, placing you astride Wanda’s lap, the other end of the toy nestled just beneath you now. It was perfectly aligned and utterly torturous. You could feel it there, solid and waiting, but she didn’t let you sink down yet.

Her hands slid down your sides as she pressed her body behind yours, her voice low and rough in your ear. “Look at you. You’re shaking.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, two fingers slipped between your thighs, sliding through your arousal with a knowing ease that made your head fall back against her shoulder.. You nearly sobbed at the feeling, clenching around her, your body slick and pulsing.

“Fuck,” Natasha breathed, the word guttural as her fingers curled inside you with surgical precision. “You’re soaked. Bet you’ve been dripping since I moaned for you, haven’t you?”

The pleasure was unbearable, and the need, the ache of it, had long since become something molten in your bloodstream. You nodded frantically, barely coherent. “I have…I can’t…please—”

Natasha shifted behind you, her body bracketing yours as her fingers curled again, hitting something inside you that made the room spin. You cried out, jolting forward, caught between her relentless hand and the anticipation throbbing inside your core.

“Please what?” she murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear, her voice all heat and control.

“Please let me ride Mommy,” you managed, the words tumbling out on a broken sob. “I need her, I need her so bad, please!”

There was a beat of silence, thick with want, before Natasha chuckled, low and dark. She looked to Wanda, her mouth still hovering over your skin. “You hear that, Wands? Our little slut is begging. She’s desperate for you.”

Wanda moved in then, slow and deliberate, her touch already electric before it landed. One hand found your cheek, tilting your face until your eyes met hers, her gaze soft, but dark with promise.

“Then take it, baby,” she said, her voice like velvet over flame. “Be a good whore and take what you need.”

You whimpered at her words, trembling as her other hand moved between your legs. She replaced Natasha’s fingers with the head of the toy, guiding it with infinite care. The tip of it pressed against your entrance, and you felt your whole body still, heart hammering, lungs barely working.

And then, slowly, with a breath that shook all the way to your bones, you began to sink down. Every inch of the toy felt impossibly thick, burning as it stretched you, and yet it was perfect. Your body welcomed it, your muscles fluttering around the intrusion as you gave yourself over completely.

Natasha’s hands remained at your hips, steadying you, thumbs stroking slow circles into your skin. Wanda was beneath you, her breath catching each time the toy shifted inside her, too, her lips parting in a soft moan that made your heart flutter.

“Just like that,” Natasha murmured. “We’ve got you.”

You sank down fully, hips finally meeting Wanda’s as the last inch slid in. You were shaking, overwhelmed, breathless. Full, in every possible sense. Wanda cupped your face again, her thumb brushing your cheekbone with almost unbearable tenderness.

“You’re doing so well,” she whispered. “You feel incredible, darling. So full of me.”

You couldn’t reply. You could only nod, your hands gripping her arms like a lifeline as the pleasure throbbed through you, sharp and thick and all-consuming. 

Natasha’s hands gripped your hips with a possessive strength, guiding your movements. She set the pace, coaxing you to move, to claim the pleasure that was already building inside you.

You trembled, breath catching as you lifted yourself, then sank back down again, every inch stretched, every nerve alive with exquisite fullness. Wanda’s low, raw moan beneath you flickered through your core like a live wire, and your own voice broke free, a desperate, shaky sound, raw and vulnerable.

Natasha’s eyes drank in every flicker of sensation, every tremble of your skin, every flicker of your submission. “Look at you,” she murmured, voice thick with pride and burning desire. “Taking Mommy so well. Does it feel good?”

You whined, nodding desperately, slowing your hips as you tried to respond. “Feels so good, I want—” Your words dissolved into a sharp moan as Wanda thrust upward abruptly, the unexpected motion sending a jolt through you both.

Her lips brushed the delicate shell of your ear, breath hot and teasing. “Faster, baby. Mommy wants to cum.”

You obeyed without hesitation, speeding up, hips rolling and grinding against her with a frantic rhythm that left you both gasping. Wanda shifted slightly beneath you, just enough to hit that sensitive spot that had stars bursting behind your eyes. 

And each time she moaned, your body ignited further. The sensation was overwhelming, to be both giver and receiver, to be held and to hold in return.

Natasha’s hands tightened around your waist, fingers digging in with just the right pressure to anchor you as your movements grew more urgent, more desperate. Her mouth found the curve of your neck, lips brushing and nibbling softly, tracing a trail of heat down your skin that made you shiver against her touch.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” she breathed, voice rough and raw with emotion. “So desperate, so fucking needy. All ours.”

You moved faster, driven by Natasha’s words, Wanda’s moans and the mounting fire in your belly, whining and gasping, lost to the tidal wave of sensation. Wanda was collapsing too, breathless, trembling beneath you, both of you unravelling while Natasha watched with dark, satisfied eyes.

And then you heard it,  Wanda’s voice, rough and trembling, cutting through the thick fog of sensation like a spark to dry tinder. “Shit…” she gasped, her breath catching as her arms that had made their way over your shoulders pulled you tight. “Baby, ah! Cum with me,” she commanded, her voice cracking with the force of her need.

You could feel it in her, the way her thighs began to shake beneath you, how her body arched, straining towards the release she could no longer hold back. The desperation in her voice sent a bolt of electricity straight through your core, and then she fell, and that was the final spark.

Your body shattered, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure surged through you. It was raw, blinding, and unstoppable, tearing through every inch of you with a force that stole your breath. You clung to Wanda, your nails digging into her skin as you both moved in frantic tandem, the heat and tension between you reaching its final breaking point.

Your cries tangled with hers, muffled by kisses, skin, hair, whatever you could reach as your bodies burned together. And through it all, you felt Natasha’s hands on you, firm and steady, grounding you even as you fell apart. Together they held you, anchored you, as the storm inside you broke and left you undone, breathless, and utterly spent in its wake.

Eventually, the only sounds left were your panting breaths and the faint creak of the bed beneath the three of you. There was a quiet reverence in the aftermath, a pause filled not with silence, but with intimacy and warmth. You all stayed there for a while, tangled together in sweat-slicked skin and shared breath, hearts pounding, letting the moment settle between you.

You nearly sobbed when Natasha gently lifted you off Wanda’s lap, cradling you like something precious before settling you down softly on the bed. A similar sound of protest escaped from Wanda as Natasha removed the toy from her as well, drawing a final soft gasp from her lips. Wanda didn’t move after that, her eyes fluttered shut, her body lax, thoroughly spent in the best way.

“You’ve wrecked your Mommy, Little One,” Natasha murmured with a quiet, amused pride as she looked down at her wife, who gave only a sleepy whimper of objection in response. Her cheeks were flushed, her thighs trembling slightly. She looked thoroughly undone.

You didn’t imagine you looked much better. You could feel the sweat cooling on your skin, your hair matted to your face, your thighs still twitching faintly from the aftershocks. Your chest heaved with the remnants of heavy breathing, and your limbs felt boneless.

Natasha looked less ruined, but there was a softness in her eyes, a rare vulnerability still lingering in her expression that told you this night had marked her just as deeply.

It was a long while before anyone moved, and when you finally did, it was only with quiet intimacy. There were soft touches passed between you, quiet praise murmured like lullabies. Wanda leaned into your side in the shower as Natasha cleaned you both up with warm cloths and whispered reassurance. You returned every touch with gentle hands of your own, wanting to give back just a fraction of what they’d given you.

Eventually, clean, dry and dressed in pyjamas, the three of you made your way to the sofa, wrapped up in blankets, half watching a film none of you truly had the energy to focus on. You nestled between them, Wanda tracing idle shapes into your thigh while Natasha curled one arm around your shoulder.

The fog lifted slowly, like mist rising after rain. When you began to feel your sense of self return, you turned to your right, gaze finding Natasha’s. The weight of tonight settled in your chest again.

“Thank you, Nat,” you said quietly, your voice still hoarse but steady. “For letting me do that. I know… I know it was a big deal for you.”

Her expression changed. She looked at you with the softest eyes you’d ever seen from her, bare, open, and full of something that made your chest ache. A smile touched her lips, gentle and impossibly tender, before she leaned in to press a warm kiss to your forehead.

“It was,” she said simply. “But I love you, Malyshka (Little One). And I wanted to show that. You were so perfect.” Then her smile turned sly, her tone lightening just enough to tease. “You might even be giving Wands a run for her money.”

You let out a breathy laugh, cheeks flushed as you turned your head the other way in embarrassment, trying to hide the warmth spreading across your face.

“Excuse me?” Wanda’s voice rose in faux outrage from your left, her head lifting from the cushion as she fixed you with a dramatic glare, one brow arched in theatrical offence. “I taught her everything she knows.”

You grinned, unable to deny it. “I learned from the best,” you admitted, flashing her a look full of fondness and mischief. Then, with a slow turn of your head towards Natasha, you added with a sly little smirk, “So maybe you’ll just have to prove to Nat who’s better next time.”

Natasha gave a low chuckle, her eyes glittering with amusement. “Is this just an elaborate excuse to get Wands on her knees?”

You didn’t even hesitate, you nodded solemnly, though your grin betrayed you. “I meant it when I said I wanted to see.”

“You literally begged not to earlier,” Wanda shot back, mouth curling into a knowing smirk as she leaned closer.

“Shut up,” you huffed with no real bite, crossing your arms in playful defiance. “It was an intense night! I was overwhelmed!”

Wanda’s eyes narrowed, head tilting as her expression shifted into a mock-stern glare, her voice dipping low. “Watch your mouth, or it’ll get more intense.”

You swallowed, a flutter running through your chest at the teasing threat, and then you offered your sweetest smile, wide-eyed and innocent. “Sorry, Mommy. I’ll be your good girl.”

Her expression melted instantly, dominance giving way to affection as she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “That’s what I thought,” she whispered against your mouth, and you basked in the warmth that came with it, completely wrapped in the playful safety of them both.

Natasha watched the exchange with a lazy smirk, one brow raised as she leaned back against the cushions, arms draped over the back of the sofa like she owned the world, which, in her opinion, she did. 

��� Taglist: @chansawrelier, @angelicbrats, @brooklyn-r-dawson, @lizzieolsie216, @godhatesgoodgirls, @libbyofc, @sapphicandgraphic, @xblinkx2, @ciaoooooo111, @natashasmuse. If you would like to be added to or removed from the tag list, please let me know.

[moonylvs]

GIRLS LIKE GIRLS

୨ৎ Summary: Entering your third year of college and getting a new roommate can end in many ways, especially when your roommate is a bright-eyed girl with amazing musical tastes... or Abby discovering that her life can turn around when she agrees to listen to her heart and live a freaking movie.

ⓘ Warnings: +18! Friends to lovers!!! Reader is a lesbian <3 mention of Owen! Angst? Not really, but some miscommunication. Fluff!! We love soft abby <3 This is very much abby discovering her sexuality, idk if there's anything questionable here lmao, no proofread!

Word count: 20k!

mlist ao3

Abby couldn't explain what she felt the first time she saw you. She could still remember that moment perfectly, your bright eyes looking at her and that sweet smile on your face that made her stomach turn.

Abby thought that sharing a dorm with someone would be an agony, she enjoyed her privacy more than anything, but with you there was no such awkwardness or discomfort, it was as if you both had adapted perfectly.

When you first saw Abby you were convinced she was a jock in every sense of the word. Her confident posture, her sports team jacket, those huge headphones dangling from her neck, the perfectly messy hairstyle, everything about her screamed that she was probably the type of girl who made embarrassing comments in class and laughed with her friends about other people's sexuality.

You expected a judgmental look for your clothes, a tease about the pins in your backpack, or something like that, but instead you found sweet eyes looking at you and giving you a smile, asking your name and if you minded if she put some posters on the wall.

She offered to help you carry your bags up, made a silly joke about the old elevators and when she saw you put your records on the shelves, her eyes lit up as if she had just discovered something secret about you that fascinated her.

No, Abby was not what you expected. She was much better. You felt comfortable around her before you even noticed. And, although it would take you time to admit it, from that first day you knew that something in you was already burning for Abby.

With you, Abby didn't have that initial stage of awkwardness, no, from day one you seemed to light up the room, making her feel in total comfort, asking her about the sports team posters on her wall and listening to her talk about her career.

Abby was not far behind either, she was fascinated by your music collection and loved listening to you talk, usually she considered talkative people somewhat irritating, but with you it wasn't like that, it was as if your voice brought some life to the bedroom.

From the moment you both started unpacking you both were already smiling and stealing glances at each other, your dorm room was not divided right down the middle, maybe it was at some point, probably only the first week, because after that Abby's books were already on your desk and your records on her bed and in her cd player, there was no division between you both, it was one room, sometimes you had trouble finding your own stuff but it didn't matter.

Soon morning greetings before school turned into nightly chats talking about anything and everything until you fell asleep.

The dorm no longer felt like a boring, awkward place where two strangers lived, no, to Abby it was a cozy place where she could come after school to unwind and chat with you.

Your schedules were a little complicated because medicine was not an easy career and Abby didn't want to be less than the best, but somehow you always managed to have moments together, moments where Abby felt more alive, where she laughed like with no one else, the dorm seemed to come alive with your presence.

The dorm room soon started to look more cozy, with little details here and there that made it more like you, you soon started to put flowers in the previously empty vase in the room, it was in the window next to some books, you believed that flowers made the room look and smell better, abby couldn't agree more.

Between the two of you an unwritten agreement was formed where the vase was always full, as soon as the flowers started to dry out one of you would put some fresh new ones in, usually being lilies, you had discovered that they were abby's favorite flower and you had to admit they were beautiful.

Their nightly talks continued night after night, well, when abby wasn't exhausted from school, being with you abby lost all the filter, she could talk about whatever she wanted without feeling judged or criticized.

It always ended with a bottle of booze and genuine laughter, there was no filter or embarrassment, abby lost all shame when she looked into your eyes and saw that sparkle, she lost all reason, there was no judgment or mockery, it was just you listening to her attentively.

Her career was definitely taking its toll on her, you could tell by the dark circles under her eyes and the way her eyes would close tiredly in your late night talks, yet Abby never said anything, she liked talking to you and she liked listening to you talk even more, it was the only time where she didn't feel pressure and it was just you and her.

Abby didn't know if it was tiredness or what it was due to, but on one of those nights she ended up so tired from her homework that she ended up dozing on the floor against your bed with her head on your shoulder.

“We should go to bed” You muttered under your breath, afraid Abby might hear your heart beating too loudly in your chest.

“No, keep talking... I want to listen to you” Abby replied sleepily, making no effort to get up or move her head away from your shoulder.

Needless to say, you had already forgotten what you were talking about, probably about some new song or the camera you bought, but Abby's presence was to say the least, distracting, yet you did your best to keep talking and Abby lulled herself to sleep with your voice, sleeping better than ever.

That night you didn't move from her side, you weren't going to disturb her sleep, so you ignored the discomfort and pain of sitting on the cold floor, taking the nearest blanket and covering you both.

In the morning you were surprised to not feel the cold floor beneath you, instead you were in the warmth of your bed, no, abby's bed actually, you recognized her damn scent on the sheets.

“I thought you'd be uncomfortable on the floor” Abby mentioned softly later that day, when she saw your confused face as you saw yourself in her bed.

This became a recurring thing for both of you without noticing it, some nights when either you or Abby were too tired you would end up asleep sitting next to the bed, her head on your shoulder and your bodies warming each other.

Other nights you would offer to braid abby's hair for her and at some point her head would end up in your lap, with you stroking and playing with her blonde locks until you were both asleep.

But each of those nights you never woke up on the floor, you always woke up feeling the warmth of the blankets under you and instantly recognized Abby's scent in the blankets, other times you were not so lucky and woke up wrapped in the blankets of your own bed, but not once did Abby wake up next to you, whenever you woke up she was already taking a bath or making herself some breakfast, you couldn't help but wonder if she had slept next to you and you hadn't noticed, which seemed impossible because of her build and because you were sure you would notice if you had abby anderson sleeping next to you.

In those nights Abby discovered how much you loved to talk, you were quite open with your life, she loved to put on a good record from your collection and get down on the floor to talk about school, romantic anecdotes, or anything that came to your minds.

The blonde was more than a little surprised when she heard you mention an ex, her stomach turning at your words.

“She was pretty cute but I guess we just didn't quite hit it off.”

Abby stopped listening to what you said next, your words repeating over and over, she was pretty cute, she, she, she, she.

That night she didn't say anything about it, you had said it so normally that she didn't think it was appropriate to mention it, you liked girls, it wasn't a big deal right? Yet for some reason something moved inside her.

Abby soon understood that in fact for you it was no big deal, she seemed to be the only one unaware that you were a lesbian, when she told Manny about her new roommate he nodded normally.

“Ah yeah I know her, I've seen her at a few parties, she always goes with the prettiest girls.” Manny said with amusement, maybe exaggerating things a bit, but a knot was in Abby's stomach, she never mentioned you again in front of Manny or any of her friends.

Abby tried to hide her emotions, believing that it was just jealousy of friendship, she had never had such a close friend, she didn't want to have to move away, besides it seemed ridiculous, you were just friends, she had no right to complain to you, so she swallowed her words and acted normally.

Abby never questioned her sexuality, of course, when she was young she found one or two girls pretty, but that was normal, wasn't it? It was just envy, Abby never thought she was the prettiest, so she thought maybe it was just envy, that's why she kept looking so much at that girl in her class, her wavy hair, her lips, her hands… it was just envy, yeah, that's all.

She thought that feeling was too far gone, she hadn't felt “envy” for any girl in a long time, she had Owen and he loved her as she was, of course in his own way, showing her off to his friends and flattering her — almost always in sex — but it was still flattery, wasn't it?

Despite this, that damn envy came back with you, more specifically after finding out that you like girls, for some reason that envy was in all its splendor, Abby could not stop looking at you, admiring everything about you, but of course, it was just that she thought you were pretty, right? There's nothing wrong with admitting that your friend has pretty lips and angel hands, right?

Abby didn't have much time to question such things either, the semester was always heavy being in medicine, team practices added to the fire and questioning whatever it was that was stirring for you was just another burden, her body was at its limit and she was never one to like to rest, so it went on and on and on until it finally happened.

That afternoon the dorm was strangely quiet, which was usual when Abby went to soccer practice, but it was a strange silence when you walked in and noticed Abby was in the dorm, her shoes were in the doorway and her training bag was lying on the floor, that was strange, Abby was organized and never had the room quiet, there was always music playing.

“Abby?” You called softly, approaching her bed and noticing her figure covered by the blankets up to her head.

“I'm not here” Abby murmured, her voice sounding strange and tired. “Tell everyone I died.”

You couldn't help but smile with tenderness, instantly noticing what was going on, in her night wick were Kleenex and boxes of medicine, your suspicions confirmed when Abby peeked one eye out from between the covers. Her cheeks were red, not from embarrassment, but from fever, and her tangled hair gave her a more disheveled air than usual.

“I feel like I got hit by a train...and then the train regretted it and reversed.” Abby murmured, bringing a hand to her head that seemed intent on exploding.

You couldn't help a chuckle, sitting down next to her on the bed and bringing your hand up to her face, removing her hand and gently touching her forehead and cheeks, watching her look at you with an expression you couldn't quite make out.

She definitely had a fever. Her skin burned under your hand, and yet Abby didn't pull away, nor did she make one of her typical evasive comments to play it down. She just looked at you, half buried in the covers, eyes narrowed and a strange mixture of defeat and relief painted on her face.

“Since when did you feel this way?” You asked softly, as if you feared causing her head more pain if you spoke louder.

Abby shrugged, but the gesture was so weak it barely moved the fabric of the sheets.

“Since yesterday, but I had to go to training and then exams...” Abby said softly, not giving it a thought.

“You went to training like this?” you asked with some disbelief and abby felt like she was being scolded.

“Couldn't miss it, we'll have a game soon” Abby mumbled without looking at you at all, she was used to ignoring the pain, she wasn't someone who got sick often and when she did she just ignored the discomfort and carried on, but now she definitely felt like she had been hit by a train.

You sighed heavily, feeling a little annoyed with Abby for acting this way, so tough, like she was invincible.

“You could have told me” You murmured softly, not as a complaint, just a comment, reminding her that you were there, for her.

Abby didn't respond, just pursed her lips, sighing lightly and closing her eyes as a twinge of pain shot through her head.

You stood silently, walking into the dorm's tiny kitchen and pouring hot water from the coffee pot onto a plate, taking one of those instant soups, definitely nothing amazing, but Abby needed something to eat and it was the best thing in the dorm.

Abby watched you silently, her brow slightly furrowed, she couldn't quite see what you were doing when your back was turned, she only noticed when you approached the bed with a bowl of soup in your hands, her eyes widened with some surprise and even some disbelief.

With a single glance from you, Abby sat up in bed, her body protesting her tiredness.

“Eat this, then you can take the medicine and get some sleep” You said softly, your tone calm and gentle, as if taking care of her was something totally normal.

Abby watched you with a frown, but soon her gaze softened, she was never someone who enjoyed being cared for, she was more vunerable than she wished to show, but for that night she wanted to allow herself this, she wanted to lower the barriers a little and accept being cared for one night.

You stayed with her while she ate her soup, giving her the medicine afterwards and tucking her in when sleep overtook her, abby only murmured a soft thank you before falling asleep, but for you it was enough, that abby let you take care of her was enough for you.

The nightly talks continued, it was a moment between the two of you, a moment where Abby and you could talk about your day and forget the stress of college.

Your nightly talks were about everything and nothing at the same time, they usually started with you wanting to help Abby study her books, but the topic soon faded into the background and the words came out of your mouths non-stop, Abby found it especially easy to open up to you, you always listened attentively and never interrupted her, letting her tell you anecdotes with her father or about her classes, well, that was until she touched on a certain subject.

“You have a boyfriend?”

The words came out of your mouth harsher than you expected, somewhere between confusion and disbelief.

Abby was silent for a second, blinking before nodding, she couldn't understand the meaning of your words — or your tone of voice — nor the feeling that settled in her, perhaps some...insecurity? Maybe.

“Yeah, his name is Owen.” Abby said, her voice less enthusiastic than before, with some insecurity, a thousand ideas running through her mind, the tone of your voice making her feel strange and confused, did you not think she had a boyfriend? You didn't think she was pretty enough or interesting enough?

Her mind got the worst ideas, where you thought she didn't have a boyfriend for some horrible reason, that you thought she was ugly or boring, a knot in her stomach settled at this.

Abby had always been quite unsure of herself, from her image — which men found unattractive — to her often hostile and defensive personality.

“Oh...that's nice.”

Was all you said, your voice sounding more subdued and even somewhat irritated, Abby clearly noticed.

“What about you? do you have... anyone?” Abby asked, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach at her own question.

“No, I've always been unlucky in love” You murmured softly with some sarcasm in your voice, even some bitterness.

It didn't take you long to change the subject, you didn't want to listen to Abby talk about her ridiculous boyfriend — who you didn't even know existed — preferring to listen to her talk about medicine and terms you didn't understand one bit.

That night the talk ended more abruptly than before, both obviously uncomfortable and tense, for totally opposite reasons.

In the morning Abby still had a strange feeling running through her, your behavior didn't help, Abby could feel something, there was a distance between the two of you, a distance that Abby couldn't explain.

Abby couldn't explain it but there was something different, you didn't seem so animated when you spoke or you didn't seem so close to her, it was as if something had changed and she hated it.

Despite the thousand ideas running through abby's mind none of them were true, they weren't even close, it would never cross abby's mind that you were jealous and even a little guilty when you found out she had a boyfriend.

You thought you were hiding your feelings well but it was impossible for you to act the same as before, Abby could feel it, things were awkward somehow, you were still acting like friends, you treated her like the rest of Abby's friends, but Abby didn't like it, because you had always been closer than her friends, you had always done more than the rest of her friends.

Your mind was no better than Abby's, a thousand feelings were eating at you and among them was guilt, the idea that you had gone too far and now Abby was upset with you, you hadn't even done anything wrong, you hadn't even kissed or anything like that, you just did things that all friends did, but maybe deep down you felt guilty because you never did things just as friends.

Despite this Abby couldn't stop thinking about you, she found herself watching you as she studied, she noticed every little detail about you and your expressions, she knew you were tense by the way you were biting the inside of your cheek or when you were tired because you started scrunching up your eyes.

At night Abby had trouble sleeping and you were not much better, Abby would go over each of your conversations together looking for what she had done wrong, what she had done to make you put that distance between you, but she always went back to the night where she told you she had a boyfriend.

Abby without noticing it put more distance between both, the school consumed her completely and when she could talk to you it was short talks, nothing like before, the night talks were not the same, you avoided completely the romantic anecdotes and Abby didn't even notice it, she only wanted to talk to you, about anything, even if it wasn't the same.

But at the end of the nights it wasn't the same, you didn't end up sleeping on the floor together, too close to be friends, many times you didn't even sit close to talk, each of you talked from your bed, looking at the ceiling, because you both knew that if you looked into each other's eyes everything would change, they say that eyes never lie and abby could prove it, she was sure that if you looked in her eyes you could see everything about her, all of her feelings made a chaos and this terrified her.

“Are we fine?” Abby asked in a whisper on one of those nights, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

You felt your chest tighten, because even at the sudden question you knew what she meant, you knew she sensed the distance between you.

“Yeah, we're fine” You mumbled back, taking the courage to look up at Abby from your bed, only to find her turning her back to you.

Neither of you mentioned it again, neither of you dared, so you went about your daily lives, concentrating on school and feeling your conversations last less and less time, watching the flowers in the window fade and neither of you making an attempt to put up new ones.

Sometimes you used to see each other in the halls of the school, just giving each other a polite smile, Abby could feel her stomach tighten when she saw you talking to some girl in the halls, laughing at her jokes as you laughed at hers, you couldn't help but feel nauseous when you saw her with Owen, the boy always holding her or with his hands on her body, you always thought he touched her too rough, not gentle as she deserved.

Your mind was still in chaos, you couldn't concentrate on anything, you needed to clear your mind, or maybe occupy it with something other than abby, so what better idea than to go to a campus party, there's nothing better than a party full of drunken idiots and the smell of weed!!!! — notice the sarcasm —

Manny had definitely exaggerated with what he told abby, you didn't go with a different girl to every party, at least not to sleep with them, many times they were just your friends or girls you walked home or chatted with, but for manny and the rest of the guys it was impossible for a lesbian to have female friends and not sleep with them.

Abby wasn't a fan of parties, not as much as you, she went to some when Owen asked her to, but she didn't see the point in drinking beer with strangers while music she hated was playing, so when you offered her to go to the party with you she refused.

You thought that this party would be your opportunity to try to fix things with Abby, you thought that going alone would not do much good if Abby was still on your mind, so inviting her was your best option, you could apologize to her for being so distant and maybe after a while at the party things would get better between the two of you and everything could be like before.

But Abby's refusal changed all your plans, the blonde told you that she had to study and finish some work, plus she didn't feel like going to a party, which you automatically assumed was that she didn't want to go with you.

Trying to ignore the pressure in your chest you simply nodded and didn't press any more, if she didn't want to go you weren't the one to force her, you could fix things later, couldn't you? You hoped so.

While you were getting ready Abby couldn't take her eyes off you, no matter how hard she tried to avoid it, of course she wouldn't let you notice her but she just couldn't help but gawk at you changing and putting on that damn pink lipgloss that made your lips look amazing.

When you left the room Abby gasped in frustration, what the fuck was she doing? Why wouldn't those fucking feelings go away?

The party was in full swing, half the party was already drunk or stoned, dancing ridiculously to the music and some kissing when they thought they weren't seen, spoiler, they were.

Still you just couldn't change your mood, you were on your third or fourth glass of a dubious punch to which you had added some vodka, but the party seemed more boring than ever, your friends were chatting and dancing, you smiled slightly seeing them, but you didn't share their happiness, so you stayed at the back, drinking boredly from your cup and wishing that by some miracle your night would change for something more interesting.

But the universe definitely wanted to screw you, because instead of some cute blonde girl falling into your arms all you got was a drunk guy crashing into you and making you spill your punch on your blouse, your white blouse, great.

“Watch where you're going!” You said with annoyance, trying to wipe your shirt with a napkin, but the guy didn't even look at you, he was too drunk to offer an apology or walk straight.

Great, absolutely great, your night was already going to shit a while ago and now your only white blouse was covered in a pink stain.

“That's definitely not coming off.”

You had to restrain yourself from turning your head abruptly at that voice, that voice you knew perfectly well.

You didn't have to turn around because the girl appeared in front of you, looking as spectacular as ever, without saying a word Abby took the napkin, standing in front of you and wiping some of the punch on your blouse and neck.

“I thought you weren't coming” You muttered under your breath, your voice a little strained from the alcohol, but you weren't even thinking clearly enough to care, the words were already coming out without you wanting them to.

“Let's go to the bathroom, we'll see if something can be done” Abby replied, ignoring your question and gently taking your wrist, making her way through the crowd of people to the bathroom, which by some miracle was empty.

Abby walked into the bathroom with you, closing the door behind her, still with her hand on your wrist as if she feared you were going to stumble, which was definitely a possibility, at what point did you get this drunk? A few minutes ago you were fine and now the alcohol hit you hard.

“You said you weren't coming” You repeated with a frown, had she changed her mind?

Abby didn't say a word, she just motioned for you to sit on the edge of the tub while she took a washcloth and wet it, coming over to you and sinking between your legs, gently wiping the stain on your shirt, her touch careful as if she was afraid to make you uncomfortable.

Your gaze was fixed on Abby, you felt your heart pounding so hard it would pound out of your chest, Abby looked spectacular, she always did, but the alcohol made your thoughts drift further away.

Your gaze was fixed on Abby, on her blonde hair and her look of concentration as she cleaned your blouse, soon your mind began to wander, thinking about how good Abby looked between your legs, so close to you.

No! No, no, no, no.

You couldn't think those things, not about your friend, not about Abby specifically, as soon as the thoughts came you shook your head trying to push them away.

It's the alcohol, you said to yourself trying to convince yourself, but everyone knows that alcohol just brings the truth to light, but you couldn't admit that.

“Owen invited me, he wanted me to come with him” Abby's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, reminding you that you had brought up — twice — that you thought she wasn't coming, that was her explanation and you instantly frowned, the mere mention of Owen made a knot in your stomach and reminded you why you had put that distance between the two of you, a bitter feeling settled in your stomach, the idea that she had agreed to come with Owen but not with you made a feeling of jealousy settle in you, probably your expression of bitterness was very obvious, so you were grateful that Abby was still cleaning your blouse and did not see how you rolled your eyes at Owen's mention.

"I was hoping I could see you here... be with you" Abby's voice was quieter, not looking you in the eye, as if saying she wanted to see you was a confession that shouldn't be heard.

Your heart flipped in your chest and as if you were a teenager in love, your face flushed, yet the alcohol made you think too much and the words were out of your mouth before you could think clearly.

“But you're with Owen” You mumbled, Abby knew you were talking about the party, that she had come to this party with Owen, but a part of you and her knew you weren't just talking about the party, Abby was with Owen, he was her boyfriend.

“He just keeps smoking with his friends, he won't even notice I'm gone” Abby murmured softly, standing up and extending a hand to you, which you took gently, you felt a rush of electricity run through your body almost instantly, as if something had clicked.

“I told you it wouldn't come off” Abby's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, now realizing that she wasn't even taking your hand anymore and instead was looking at your breast, no, your blouse, which was stained red and showing through a little.

Why the fuck did you have to wear a white blouse to a party? Now it seemed like the worst idea in the world.

“I can lend you my sweater, I'm wearing a shirt underneath” Abby said, trying — and failing — to avert her gaze from your now transparent shirt, she didn't want you to go out like that, for anyone else to see you like that.

Abby didn't even wait for an answer, removing her sweater and thank god the sweater covered her face for an instant because she would have seen you staring at her abs that were revealed as she lifted her shirt, damn it.

“Here” Abby said softly, but instead of handing it to you she walked over to you with the sweater in her hands and you got the message instantly, raising your arms and letting her put the sweater on you, her hands lingering a little too long on your waist before she pulled away nervously, looking anywhere but at you.

“Come on” Abby murmured somewhat nervously, grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of the bathroom onto one of the couches, sitting next to you still with some distance, fearing that if she touched you again that rush would return.

You felt like you were in some kind of dream, like you were floating, you didn't know whether to blame it on the alcohol or the smell of Abby in her sweater, you loved her damn perfume, you could smell it all the time in the room but being surrounded by it was a totally different experience.

Both stayed on the couch for a while, making fun of the idiocies that people did and talking about anything, as if the rest of the world didn't exist, at some point the words ran out and you ended up sitting without saying anything, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, not at all.

Your head was leaning back on the couch, looking at Abby sideways with a smile on your face, you didn't even try to hide it, your gaze ran over every detail of Abby's face, your eyes practically glowing at the sight.

Abby felt your gaze, how could she not, you were staring at her, when she turned to you, she thought you would look away, but you didn't, those bright eyes were still locked on her, looking at her as if she was the most beautiful wonder in the world.

For some reason Abby couldn't take her eyes off you, watching every detail of your face with admiration, you both laughed, you didn't even know why, maybe because of the stupidity of the situation or the way your heart was beating too hard in your chest.

You both remained sitting on the couch, looking at each other with a smile, your hands were so close on the couch that abby only needed to move her pinky a little and she could have you in her hands, as if a force was pulling you, but as always, that same force that attracted you so close, in an instant could pull you in the opposite direction.

“Come here baby!”

You didn't even have time to blink before you felt Abby being lifted off the couch, her weight suddenly disappearing and that force pulling you away, that force called Owen.

The boy grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet and hugging her from behind with a goofy grin as he moved to the music, obviously too drunk and stoned to notice Abby's discomfort let alone yours.

Abby stirred in his grip obviously uncomfortable, the smell of weed making her stomach churn, but she didn't dare move away, all of owen's friends were watching them with a smile, some girls whispering about how they wished they were in abby's place, this was the right thing to do wasn't it? So what was that damn knot in her stomach?

For some reason you didn't dare to look away, even as that pressure in your chest continued to grow, your gaze was obviously uncomfortable and Abby could feel it digging into the back of her head, she didn't dare look in your direction, afraid of what she would see on your face.

For Abby it was the longest song in the world, she was grateful for the moment when Owen reached out for a cigarette because she was able to walk away and sit next to you again, a little closer this time, her happiness was short lived as Owen sat down next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to him.

It was probably the alcohol that made you so direct, because you couldn't stop yourself from looking at abby and owen bitterly, your gaze going from owen's arm on abby's shoulders to owen's lips on abby's jaw and neck, it was disgusting.

The guy did nothing but cause that reaction in you, nausea, if you could use one word to describe him it would be douchebag, he didn't even notice you were wearing Abby's sweater, was he too drunk or was he always like that? You didn't give a shit.

The rest of the night was bitter for both you and abby, your only fun was seeing how many cups of vodka punch you could drink before you passed out and drowned the fucking butterflies in your stomach, but abby didn't agree with your fun.

“Okay that's enough” Abby said firmly but with a certain gentleness when it came to you, taking your wrist and taking the cup from you, helping you to your feet, taking you by the waist with gentleness and embarrassment, as if she was afraid to touch you.

“Where are you going?” Owen asks with some annoyance, looking at Abby and you with a frown.

“To the dorm, she's too drunk to stay here by herself” Abby said with some obviousness, holding you tighter when she felt you wobble.

Owen let out a bitter laugh, looking at you from head to toe as if he didn't quite believe Abby's words.

"And you're going to leave me here? One of her girlfriends could take her to the dorm" Owen spat with annoyance, as if leaving him alone at the party was a horrible thing to do. Abby had to ignore the pang in her chest at the mention of your “girlfriends,” Manny's words coming back to her mind, but she forced herself to calm down.

“I'm her friend and we share a dorm, besides I'm tired” Abby said, it was a lame excuse, but in a way it was true, she was tired, she hated parties, she had only come because she felt guilty about your disappointed expression when she told you she wasn't going.

Owen scoffed, rolling his eyes bitterly and lighting a cigarette without looking at Abby.

“Do whatever the fuck you want” Owen spat before disappearing into the crowd, obviously annoyed with Abby and the fact that he had ruined his plans to spend the night with her.

Abby ignored the bitter feeling that settled in her stomach and kept walking with you, or rather staggering, as you were too drunk to walk upright.

Abby let out a sigh of relief when you finally reached the dorm, helping you sit on the bed, taking one of your hair ties and making a messy ponytail, just so you wouldn't be bothered by the hair in your face.

“Are you okay?” abby asked softly as she noticed how quiet you had been all the way, you didn't respond, your gaze went all over her face, it looked like a work of art.

Before you could think about it your hand was already up, holding her cheek gently, your thumb caressing her cheekbone and getting a little too close to her lips.

“You're so pretty, abby” You muttered under your breath without looking away, abby thought she would die right there, her mouth opening and closing several times, trying to say something, but to no avail.

A smile spread across your face as you watched her cheeks flush, your thumb gently stroking her cheek.

Abby felt as if a force was pulling her to you, her gaze went to your lips and for the first time she allowed herself to think about how they would feel, if they would taste like that cherry lipstick you always wore, if they would be as soft as she imagined, if they would feel as good as she wished.

“I-I'll get you some water” Abby murmured snapping out of her trance, pulling away almost suddenly, as if she feared that if she stared at you a little longer she wouldn't be able to turn back.

Abby went to get water with trembling hands, trying to calm herself.

She's drunk, she doesn't know what she's saying, we're just friends, this isn't right, I have a boyfriend.

Abby repeated those words over and over again, trying to engrave them in her mind and in her heart.

Abby tucked you into bed after making you drink enough water and was thankful you were an easy sleeper, because she couldn't bear to see your shining eyes one more second without her heart bursting out of her chest.

Even if it was two in the morning Abby had to take a shower, trying to calm the heat in her body that had been tormenting her since the party, since the moment she was between your legs while she was cleaning your blouse, since her hands touched your waist when she put her sweater on you.

That fucking sweater, Abby wanted to die when she put it on you, it was like an image from a dream, she hoped you'd never give it back, she wanted to see you wearing it forever, she wanted you to be surrounded by her scent all the fucking time.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” Abby said in a sigh, turning on the cold water even more, the guilt she felt for her strange feelings was already too much, touching herself thinking about her best friend wearing her sweater was crossing the line.

Abby tried to calm herself, showering and ignoring the shivering of her body against the icy water, the words “this is wrong” repeating over and over in her head, how something so wrong could feel so damn amazing?

Her mind couldn't help but start to wander, going back to that moment when she was between your legs cleaning your blouse, that moment when she was about to blow it all away, that moment when she had smelled your delicious perfume and had been closer to your boobs than she had ever imagined.

Even the cold water couldn't stop a warmth from settling in Abby's stomach, her hand mindlessly going between her legs, trying to relieve the heat that was growing by the second.

A breathy moan escaped her mouth as her hand finally made contact with her clit, her head leaning back against the icy tiles of the shower.

“You're so pretty abby.”

Your words repeated in her head and made her thrust her hips against her fingers, letting out a low whimper.

You, the prettiest girl abby knew, thought she was pretty, the very thought made abby's legs shake, she knew you were drunk, that it was just a compliment on the air, but the way you said it sounded so sincere and sweet that abby couldn't help but replay it in her mind, wishing you really meant it.

Abby bit her lip trying to hold back her moans, her fingers moving in a slow and gentle rhythm, wanting to stretch this moment out as long as possible, but trying not to give herself away with her sounds, the last thing she wanted was to wake you up, the idea terrified her, what would you think of her? That she was a disgusting creep?

The thought made her movements stop completely, what would you think of her if you knew her feelings? Would it disgust you, or maybe you would think she was a freak?

A bitter feeling settled in Abby's chest and made all the warmth in her body disappear.

You were her best friend, she had a boyfriend, you were both girls, she didn't even know if you had feelings for her, this was wrong, there were a thousand reasons why this wasn't right and yet Abby clung to only one, the way her heart seemed to come back to life when she was with you.

Abby slept to say the least, terrible, she got out of the shower frustrated but just couldn't finish when so many thoughts wandered through her mind, so now she was both emotionally and sexually frustrated, great.

In the morning Abby couldn't even look you in the eye, remembering that she almost came the night before thinking about you made her whole face turn red, and you could clearly tell something was up.

“Is something wrong, Abby?” You asked softly as you prepared breakfast for the both of you, the hangover was killing you and while some chocolate bagels weren't the healthiest thing, they were what would get you through the morning.

"Oh? Umh no nothing, why do you say that?" Abby stuttered nervously, again avoiding your gaze, which only made you more confused, yes you had been drunk the night before but it wasn't that bad right? You hadn't done anything stupid as far as you could remember.

“I don't know, you're... weird” You said softly, but not unkindly “I did something ridiculous last night didn't I?” You asked with mock exhasperation to which abby laughed nervously, shaking her head, it was she who had done something stupid, not you.

“No, you were just a little drunk but I got you home before you could do something really stupid” Abby said, trying to keep her tone nonchalant and sarcastic, which caused you to chuckle.

“Yeah, thanks for that...sorry for ruining your night with Owen” You said softly, you could remember owen's annoyance when Abby offered to take you to the dorm, you knew owen was anything but happy, especially when it came to you, you couldn't say he hated you but you were definitely not to his liking.

“Oh no, never mind” Abby said quickly, you had no reason to feel guilty “You saved me a bit, I was tired and I just wanted to come to sleep” Abby admitted without looking at you, it was her more subtle way of admitting that she preferred to spend the night with you.

“Oh yeah?” You repeated with some surprise, “Owen seemed really annoyed.”

“He's always annoyed” Abby added quietly, taking a sip of her coffee, the way she said it was...strange, as if she had already accepted that her boyfriend was always annoyed and irritated

Your heart for some reason squeezed at this, why did Abby have to be with Owen? How could Owen always be annoyed with someone like Abby by his side? It seemed illogical in your eyes.

Neither of you dared to say much more. Breakfast passed in silence, but not the awkward one of the past few weeks, but a warmer one, full of things left unsaid for fear of breaking something that was just starting to heal. Both were thinking about the same thing: the night before, that party where you looked at each other more than you should have and talked less than you wanted to.

Both felt that so much had happened at the party and nothing at the same time, neither spoke as much as you should have, but those glances and moments between smiles seemed to mean more.

You both repeated it over and over again, as if you wanted to keep even the silences. As if they both knew that, perhaps, that was as close as you could get.

“Do you want me to walk you to your class?” Abby asked, her voice low, a little softer than usual.

Her voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you nodded almost immediately. After so many weeks loaded with tension, half-glances and doubts, you needed a moment of calm by her side, without that lingering awkwardness that had been separating you.

You walked through the campus without rushing. It was early and the sky was cloudy, there were almost no students yet, and that gave the moment an intimate air, as if the world had paused a little just for the two of you.

Abby walked beside you in silence, and everything about her felt... calmer. Not like before, but not like in recent weeks either. The tension was no longer creating a knot in her stomach, now it was just her hands anxiously playing with the sleeves of her jacket.

You couldn't say everything was okay, because something inside you kept holding you back, reminding you that Abby had a boyfriend, and the last thing you wanted was for her to see you as someone who expected something from her. You didn't want to cross that line.

So, like other times, you kept telling yourself that you were friends. Just friends. And if that was all you could have from her, that was enough for you. You had to convince yourself that it was enough, even if it hurt.

You decided to bury everything else, to ignore all those feelings as if they didn't exist, you hid it as best you could, talking with that normality you missed, pretending there was nothing between the lines.

The conversation flowed smoothly. You talked about classes, about nonsense, about what you had missed in those weeks that felt longer than they should have. None of you mentioned the awkwardness of the past few days or last night's party.

Abby seemed calmer and more relaxed, laughing at your jokes and telling you things with ease. She was still the same Abby you missed, the one who made you laugh until your stomach hurt, the one who made the talks feel smooth.

The blonde couldn't help but watch you, the way you laughed and talked so relaxed, the way you always watched her as she spoke, listening and paying attention to her, not just ignoring her as if her words were background conversation.

When you arrived in your classroom neither of you dared to say goodbye, you simply stood awkwardly in the doorway, as if you feared that when you parted things would be awkward again,

"Do you want to have lunch together? We can go to that coffee shop you like" You asked timidly, you didn't want Abby to think you were going to walk away, you wanted to comfort her, to remind her that you weren't going to walk away, that her friendship was important to you.

Abby barely took a second to nod, a smile appearing on her face instantly “Yeah, sure” Abby stammered instantly “I'll see you when classes are over.”

Her smile was genuine. One of those that you had missed more than you dared to admit.

“See you then, Abby” You replied with one of those smiles that made abby melt.

And before you went inside, you looked at her one last time. You didn't say anything else. But Abby stood there in the hallway, watching you walk away with her heart pounding so hard she had to lean against the wall for a second.

Things were definitely better, they felt better, everything would be better, right?

The next few days things definitely felt better, you both went back to talking to each other like normal friends, telling each other about your day and chatting about anything, Abby would walk you to your classroom almost every day, when she wasn't staying with Owen.

Oh and there was the other thing, neither of you dared mention Owen, neither boyfriends nor relationships, it was an elephant in the room that no one bothered to mention.

It seemed like a forbidden topic in the bedroom, when Abby went out with Owen or stayed in his dorm she never really mentioned him, she would just send you a text and that was it.

I won't make it to the dorm tonight, lock the door and rest well <3.

That was all you had, you didn't have to be a fortune teller to know where she was spending the night, yet you stuck with your plan to bury your feelings as deep down as possible, to keep your friendship going, so you ignored that knot in your stomach and acted normal.

“Okay, take care abs :]”

Simple and no questions asked, partly because you didn't want to know the answer.

Abby still didn't fully understand what had happened between the two of you, but from the way you reacted, she assumed you just couldn't stand Owen or had a bad relationship with him.

It was a simple excuse and it worked in your favor, you didn't have to listen to her talk about him and Abby didn't ask you any questions. The excuse was actually very good, it made sense to Abby, she had never seen you talk to Owen much, your bad mood started when you told her he was your boyfriend and at the party you kept giving him dirty looks, so you hated him right? All this had nothing to do with how much you hated him specifically for being her boyfriend, right?

Those nights that Abby did stay in the dorm were probably the best, sometimes you would have a simple dinner in the dorm while you did your homework, which meant listening to Abby try to learn a thousand medical terms you didn't know, but you always tried to help her by asking her questions and even let her draw the muscles of your face so she could remember them, Your face ended up full of drawings that simulated the muscles and a tiny text with the name of each one, you spent half the time laughing at how ridiculous you looked but it was all worth it when Abby came back the next day with a perfect grade on the exam.

"That's great Abby! I'm proud of you" You said cheerfully, the words coming out of your mouth with an ease that surprised Abby, but mostly it made a warmth spread in her chest, you seemed genuinely happy for her.

“As a thank you today dinner is on me” Abby said softly, it was the least she could do after keeping you awake the last few nights while you accompanied her to study.

You nodded faster than you could think but soon your excitement abruptly cut short, your happiness fading a little.

“That would seriously be awesome but I can't today” You said with an apologetic grimace “I volunteered for the student club fair.” Despite the sorrow, your voice carried a note of excitement that you couldn't quite disguise. You loved that fair. Every year the school held it as a fundraiser for charity -a children's activity, games, face painting, raffles, a small celebration with a big purpose. And even though you did it for the cause, there was a part of you that also did it for the smiles of the children, for that warm feeling that the whole day left you with, because you always felt your heart more alive when you saw the children laugh.

You expected a look of disappointment on Abby's face. Maybe a joke, a shrug, something that said she wasn't happy. But her expression didn't change for a second.

Instead, a slight, sincere smile graced her lips.

“I can go with you” Abby said, as if she didn't need to think about it, a thousand ideas running through her mind telling her it was a bad idea, she didn't like fairs, not in the least, but then she saw your eyes light up just hearing her say it all the noise inside her faded away.

"Really? That would be awesome! I'm going to be at the face painting booth so it'll just be for a little while and then we can eat one of those crappy hotdogs" You said cheerfully to which Abby laughed and nodded, at that moment everything felt so much simpler.

The fair was something out of a teen movie, colorful balloons, blankets on the grass and makeshift wooden stands filled the sports field. Student volunteers had set up everything from a game station to a homemade dessert booth. Some teachers walked around with cameras, others helped coordinate the students, while others kept the teens from making a mess, alcohol was prohibited as it was a family event but everyone knew that many didn't care.

Abby was not a fan of fairs, not at all, there was a lot of noise, a lot of people crowded together and she would never admit it out loud but she was traumatized after seeing Final Destination Three, but here she was now, at a student fair just to see that damn beautiful smile on your face.

You were the first to arrive, a while before Abby, you told her you had to set up the booth and that was boring, so Abby arrived a while later, even a little before the fair started, wanting to help you a little but not wanting to look intense.

Abby stood for a few moments looking at you before she approached, just admiring you, you looked genuinely happy, arranging your booth and putting up a sign with funny letters she was sure you had made, her gaze went to your face, where on the right side of your eye was a pretty painted flower, It matched your clothes and made your face come alive, but Abby didn't care about your booth or the flower on your face, what stood out to her was your smile, your bright smile that made her want to spend all her time next to you and make the stupidest jokes just to keep that smile on her face.

When Abby accepted that it was enough time staring at you and that she was definitely going to look like a creep if she kept standing there, she finally walked over, her footsteps echoing on the grass and making you look up, smiling instantly and approaching Abby to greet her.

“I'm so glad you came, you really shouldn't have bothered” You said softly, not wanting abby to feel pressured to spend her night with you at a student fair, but abby instantly shook her head softly.

“It's nothing, I can help you a little if you want, but I'll warn you that my artistic skills are nonexistent” Abby said with a giggle, sitting down next to you in a little plastic chair.

“I'd really appreciate it” You said softly with a small laugh, finishing organizing the face paints and waiting for the first children to start arriving.

It wasn't long before the fair was full, kids arriving at your booth with a smile on their face, most of them little kids accompanied by their parents, the teenagers thinking they were too cool for such things and just laughing at the sight of your face painting, but you didn't care, you were here for Abby and the kids, everyone else could fuck off.

Child after child approached the little booth, all leaving with a beaming smile and a face full of colors, butterflies, superheroes, tigers, unicorns... whatever they asked for, you made it happen with a few strokes and a smile.

Abby watched you silently, with a half smile that wouldn't go away, there was something hypnotic about watching you work like that, your quiet concentration, the way you listened attentively even when the kids talked to you about their favorite cartoons or what they had for lunch, you nodded, laughed with them, asked them questions as if they were the most important thing in the world.

You had a natural ease with them, and it melted Abby's heart to no end.

She'd never told you, but seeing you like this — so you — melted her completely.

“There, all butterfly” You said with a smile, holding out a mirror to the girl and watching her face light up with a smile, prancing in place.

"I love it! Look mommy how do I look?" The little girl asked animatedly, approaching her mother and showing her the painting on her face with a smile.

“Precious love, say thank you to the girl” Said the woman kindly, to which the little girl immediately came over to you giving you a half hug and mumbling endless “Thank you's” animatedly.

Abby, sitting next to you, saw it all.

And for a moment, she forgot to breathe.

She saw you crouch down to the little girl's level, smile at her without rushing her, gently tuck her hair before letting her run to her mom. And when you turned to her, Abby still had that soft expression, somewhere between surprised and completely soft, for you.

“What?” You asked with a nervous laugh, pulling out a tissue to wipe some paint off your finger.

“You're good with them, with the kids” Abby murmured softly with a sweet smile, you shrugged, a soft smile appearing on your face.

“I just like to see them smile” You said softly, as if it was something simple, to you it was.

“Well you're a natural, all the kids smile at the sight of you like you're a princess” Abby said teasingly, with a softness she only had when she was talking to you.

There was a small silence. The kind of pause that leaves room for something else to come in. And then Abby said it, without drama, without overthinking:

“You'd make a good mom.”

Your fingers froze on the tissue, and so did your heart. The phrase hovered between you until after a few seconds you knew you had to respond.

“Thank you...” You whispered, not quite knowing what else to say.

But Abby didn't answer. She just looked at you for a second longer, as if she had just seen something in you that she already sensed but didn't want to name. As if, for a moment, imagining you in that other role, not just as her friend, but as something more, had seemed too easy for her. Too real.

Abby mentally beat herself up for letting her mind go so far, for letting herself imagine things that wouldn't happen, for letting herself dream more than she deserved.

The blonde stayed by your side for the rest of the fair, she wasn't lying when she said art wasn't her thing, you found that out as soon as she tried to draw a star that ended up looking like a badly made circle, So, for everyone's sake, you assigned her safer tasks like holding the paint palette and applying glitter on the finishing touches. You didn't want any kids to come out crying because their unicorn looked like a swamp monster.

“I want a braid like yours too!” said a little girl suddenly, pointing at Abby with her eyes sparkling with excitement. You were just beginning to paint her little face when you heard the request.

The girl's older brother shot you a quick glance, as if silently apologizing, perhaps fearing that you would be upset to add something else to the job.

But Abby was already smiling, the blonde had a weak heart for that sort of thing, so in an instant she nodded sweetly, knelt down behind her and began to gently braid her hair and the little girl kept looking at her as if she was the coolest person in the world.

You calmly painted the little girl's face, making butterfly wings on each side of her eyes, while Abby gently braided her hair, in moments like this she looked softer, calmer, more her, and you couldn't help but stare at her a little too hard.

“ready” Abby said with a smile, watching the girl smile excitedly at the sight of her painted face and braided hair.

“Thank you!” Said the excited little girl, running over to show her big brother how it had turned out, who smiled softly and murmured a low “Thank you”.

“Looks like you're good with kids too” You said softly with a smile as you saw Abby's warm expression, there was a sparkle in her eyes that made your heart pound.

Abby hummed softly, nodding gently as she wiped her hands.

“You want to have children?” you asked after a few moments, somewhat surprised by your own question, if you were honest you could imagine Abby as a good mother, at times like this laughing with the children, treating them with gentleness, it was easy to imagine her as a good mother.

“Yeah” Abby admitted after a few seconds of silence, a small smile settling on her face as she imagined it “I guess I would like to have them someday, but I don't know how good a mother I would be” Abby added more quietly, a little unsure of herself, she had grown up under her father's care and couldn't ask for more, but she often wondered how good a mother she would be without someone to teach her.

You instantly frowned at her words, somewhat incredulous at her words.

“I'm sure you would be an amazing mum, Abby” You said with a soft smile, your words didn't sound forced or fake, but genuine, even in Abby's insecurity, your words made her heart feel a little calmer.

Your eyes lit up when you saw Abby's smile and an idea appeared on your face, the event was calmer and the children were enjoying the food, so you could take advantage of it.

“Let me paint your face” You said with a smile, not expecting an answer as you were already picking up the color palettes.

“What? What am I going to be? A butterfly?” Abby said sarcastically, but not stopping you as you approached her.

“Trust me, I let you paint all the muscles on my face” You said with amusement, sitting down in front of Abby carefully brushing her locks out of her face and tucking them behind her ears.

“Yeah but no one saw that” Abby replied, feeling a shiver as your hands touched her face, holding her still.

“Don't worry, you're going to look beautiful” You said with that same tone of voice you used with the children, making Abby laugh slightly, but finally resigning herself.

Your hands gently cupped Abby's cheek, your brush tracing figures with ease, your gaze going from time to time to Abby's eyes watching her stare at you with a smile, your heart just pounding at this.

“Don't move” You muttered under your breath, even if abby didn't, it was you who was trembling slightly.

Abby was so close that you could admire every detail of her face, her eyelashes, those eyes that seemed to shine like stars, those eyes that did nothing but melt you.

Abby was looking at you with those eyes that didn't know how to lie. There was sweetness there. And something else you didn't want to name.

You couldn't.

You shouldn't

Because if you did, if you even allowed that possibility to float in the air, you risked losing the only thing you had, Abby as a friend.

After the most eternal minutes for you and the most fugacious for abby you finally finished, a pretty flower ran along the left side of abby's eye, the same color as her hair and with white details, it wasn't anything artistic by any stretch of the imagination, but when abby looked in the mirror it looked like she had seen a marvel.

“Wow” Abby said with a giggle, looking at the drawing with a smile, never in her life would she have done something like that, too embarrassed by what others would think, believing she would look too childish or ridiculous, but at that moment neither of those thoughts were running through her mind.

“Come, let's take a picture” You said cheerfully, pulling your phone out of your pocket and sitting down next to Abby, feeling her hand settle on your back, moving a little until it rested on your waist.

Abby swore that for a moment she felt your body leaning against hers, as you took the picture, that smile shining on your face, at that moment she didn't know if it was her heart or yours that was beating so strongly at the closeness.

For a moment she wished it was both.

When you took the picture you pulled away almost instantly, trying to calm your pounding heart and the blush on your cheeks that you wished Abby hadn't noticed.

Abby wasn't the most observant, at least not with others, but she seemed to have developed a talent with you, because she noticed instantly how your hands trembled slightly as you looked at the picture, how you tried to hold back a smile as you saw your faces on the screen, and she was sure she could see for an instant a glint in your eyes, a glimmer of something more than affection.

And for the first time in weeks, Abby wished you weren't so good at hiding your feelings.

The silence between you settled, soft and full of something unspoken, the fair was slowly fading, the balloons tied to the tables were already strewn across the field, some children were sleeping in their parents' arms, and volunteers were beginning to pick up the last brushes and paint buckets with stained hands and tired smiles, all was quiet and gentle until a familiar voice broke it like a bucket of cold water.

“Shit what did they do to your face?” Said that voice you both knew perfectly well, Owen and his stupid mocking laugh, approaching nonchalantly along with his friends.

Abby blinked in surprise, coming out of her bubble all at once, snapping back to bloody reality.

“It's face paint, Owen” Abby replied, more defensively than she expected.

Owen let out a mocking laugh, approaching abby, as if examining the drawing.

“Looks like you were attacked by a kid with paint” Owen said mockingly, causing a chuckle from his friends and an uncomfortable expression on his girlfriend's face.

“Whose idea was it? Yours or the artist here?” Owen murmured, nodding his head condescendingly at you.

An inexplicable annoyance came over you, you had to restrain yourself from blurting out an insult or something else at the boy for daring to talk like that towards his own girlfriend.

“It was my idea, I did it” You admitted without looking directly at him.

“Ah it shows” Owen said letting out a laugh that made your heart squeeze, your gaze turned back to the brushes, starting to clean them in silence, suddenly feeling like you were left over in your own space.

Abby didn't answer right away. Something inside her shrank when she saw your reaction, you had liked that flower, it was pretty. The calm glow you had a second ago had faded, all because Owen had come in with his empty jokes and his inability to read the room.

“I like it” Abby said without thinking too much, looking at Owen defensively, as if daring him to tease you again.

“What?” Owen said with an incredulous laugh, as if surprised that Abby would be saying such a thing.

“The face painting, I like it” Abby repeated calmly, this time not letting Owen's comments crush her.

For a second, Owen was silent. He wasn't usually at a loss for words, but something in Abby's tone threw him off.

After a few seconds Owen scoffed, shrugging his shoulders in disinterest.

“Whatever you say” Owen said with disinterest and some annoyance in his voice, he was used to Abby taking his teasing or laughing at his passive aggressive comments, not this.

You didn't know if you wanted to be swallowed up by the earth, run or jump, because Abby Anderson had defended you, or something, it didn't matter, you just didn't know what to do, your heart was pounding in your chest.

“I'm done” You mumbled, more to Abby and to yourself, putting away the last of your things and wiping your hands with a rag, you intended to leave, to leave them alone because at the end of the day you had no right with Abby, no right to take her and get her away from her dickhead boyfriend.

But Abby didn't agree with that, so before you could leave she gently grabbed your wrist.

“I'll walk you to drop that off and then we'll go for a walk, I still owe you that crappy hotdog” Abby said softly, as if it was just the two of you, as if her boyfriend wasn't looking at you with a face like he wanted to break your wrist that Abby was holding.

But in that moment, you didn't give a shit if Owen wanted to break every bone in your body, because abby's gentle touch on your wrist showed you that she wanted this and for one night you wanted to let yourself feel it.

“Okay” You said softly, taking one of the boxes as abby took the other, but before she reached your side owen grabbed her arm, stopping her abruptly.

“Since when did you and she become so close?” Owen asked with a hint of annoyance that he couldn't disguise.

“Since a while ago” Abby replied with disinterest, breaking free of his grip and going after you, catching up with you in no time and starting to walk beside you.

After dropping off the volunteer boxes, you walked to a nearby food stand. It was late, and the only place open served the crappiest hot dogs ever, but neither of you cared.

You both ate those crappy hot dogs on a bench that looked like it was about to fall apart, laughing at how they tasted and talking about anything and everything, feeling like it was just the two of you in the world.

Abby glanced at you several times. As if she wanted to say something. As if she was about to.

But she didn't.

And you didn't ask either.

"Abby! Earth to Abby! What are you thinking about?"

Manny's voice snapped her out of her thoughts — plagued by you — and brought her attention back to reality, to the game that was about to begin.

“oh no, nothing, it's nothing.”

Abby stammered, though it was obvious her thoughts were elsewhere, but she couldn't show that now, she had a game, an important one, she couldn't distract herself by thinking about her roommate, who made her feel butterflies and whom she couldn't stop dreaming about every time she closed her eyes.

“Jeez, you can't lie, Owen really has you smitten.”

Manny said with amusement and mockery, believing her distraction was because of her beautiful boyfriend, but Abby didn't laugh at all, Owen, right, her boyfriend, the blonde had forgotten all about him, she hadn't even talked to him much this week — not that they usually talked that much either — Abby had begun to find him especially irritating, the boy constantly wanting to go to parties and ignoring Abby's intense career, calling her a killjoy when she refused to go.

“Yeah, right, Owen.”

Abby said in a sigh, trying to prove him right, she couldn't tell it was someone else who was in her head.

The game soon started and Abby tried her best to concentrate, as always giving her best at the match, that was until her gaze wandered slightly to the stands, seeing Owen sitting in the stands, to say he looked bored was an understatement, his gaze wandered around the field with disinterest, looking too much at girls who were not Abby.

Abby shook her head, trying not to think about it and focusing on the match, failing miserably.

Abby knew it hadn't been her best match, her mind was distracted, so by halftime the match wasn't going in her favor.

"You seem a little distracted."

Abby thought she was hallucinating, was she hearing your voice now?

"Abby?"

Well, she definitely wasn't dreaming, you were standing in front of her, looking at her with that stupid smile that made her melt, looking damn amazing.

“Oh hey.” Abby stammered, cursing at her nervousness. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be in class?"

Abby asked with some confusion, taking a sip of her water and wiping away the sweat, shit her arms looked damn good.

Focus!

“Ah yeah, I finished early and thought I'd come see you.”

You admitted with a smile, your class hadn't actually finished early, but you weren't going to miss the chance to see Abby play, looking damn stunning.

“Oh well, thanks.”

Abby murmured and you swore you could see a little blush on her cheeks, she wasn't going to admit it but your presence somehow calmed her nervousness .

"I'll watch you from the stands, yeah? Good luck, you can handle it, abs."

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, it was as if you needed to say them, and you couldn't be more grateful because the smile that spread across Abby's face was priceless.

“Thanks dove.”

Abby felt as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders, you were here, watching her play, watching her from the stands and giving her a thumbs up when she turned in your direction, she thought maybe she was crazy, but she swears she saw you wink at her. Owen completely disappeared from her mind, her gaze only turning to you whenever she had the chance.

The game went smoothly, Abby seemed much more focused and relaxed, her movements fast and precise, soon the score was in her favor and with a final shot from one of her teammates the time was up and they won the game.

It hadn't been Abby's best game but shit, she felt amazing, adrenaline was pumping through her body and a smile was spreading across her face.

The rest of the team erupted in shouts of happiness, all proud of one more win, soon the people in the stands began to approach, showering the players with congratulations and laughing, everything seemed perfect.

It seemed, past.

“Congratulations I guess, you know I don't lie, your plays weren't the best, but you still won” Owen's words made Abby's heart sink.

She wasn't asking for much, a congratulations, a simple “You did good”, but for the guy it seemed like a lot to ask.

“Oh... I was a little distracted” Abby mumbled not knowing what else to say, her heart still squeezed tight in her chest, she hated how a few simple words could ruin her mood.

"Too distracted thinking about me? You're a flirt abby" Owen said with a smirk, not noticing the blonde's discomfort one bit.

Abby had to force herself to laugh, because not for a second did that joke strike her as funny, she just felt her discomfort growing, that need to run consuming her.

“Let's celebrate your game, we're going to a party tonight and it's not up for discussion” Owen said, the last words more of an order.

Abby had to hold back the urge to scoff, just a few seconds ago he was telling her what a lousy game she had played and now he wanted to celebrate with a party? Ridiculous, he didn't even care about the game, he was just looking for an opportunity to drink and show off his “enviable relationship”, pure bullshit.

“Oh sure, I'll see if I have time, I've got exams-”

“Don't be a killjoy abby” Owen interrupted with irritation “You should be excited that we're going to a party after this lousy game, it would be a miracle if my friends don't laugh at me”

Owen scoffed, rolling his eyes at Abby's less than cheerful expression.

“I'll see you at nine o'clock, get yourself together, will you?” muttered Owen, looking Abby over from head to toe with a certain amount of condescension, before leaving with his group of friends.

Abby felt a knot in her stomach, the last thing she wanted right now was to go to a party, she didn't want to deal with her drunk boyfriend and at that moment the desire to sleep with him was non-existent, as was her desire to socialize.

“He's lovely.”

Abby's gaze shot up, looking at you with surprise as she saw you sitting on the bleachers just a few feet away, had you been here the whole time? What the fuck had you heard?

Abby's mouth opened and closed several times, unable to say a word, in the end she just sighed, she didn't know what to say, how could she defend her boyfriend who had acted like an ass? Simple, she couldn't.

“How can you tolerate him?” You asked with a frown, not understanding how Abby would let them treat her like that. “He doesn't know what he's talking about, you were amazing.”

Abby felt the color drain from her face, but it quickly returned in a rosy blush to her cheeks.

“Oh umh thanks...but he's right, it wasn't my best game.”

Abby didn't even get to finish, because a scoff from you stopped her.

"Are you seriously going to believe the words of a man who spent half the game on his phone? Please abby " You said with amusement, standing up and approaching her. “I saw the whole thing and I assure you, you were amazing” You said softly, giving her a smile, a genuine smile, and abby swore she was going to melt right there.

“You think so?” abby asked with some disbelief, she had never been one to doubt her abilities, not until this moment.

“Mhm, I wouldn't lie to you abby, it's not my style” You said with a small smile, abby knew perfectly well, you were more than straightforward.

“Thank you...it means a lot coming from you” Abby didn't know where she got the courage to say those words, but she didn't regret it for a second when she saw the smile that appeared on your face.

“You didn't look too convinced about going to the party today” You said with an amused smile, showing how you did notice all of her expressions.

“Umh oh that, I have exams and I don't want to stay up all night—”

“Abby your exams finished last week, you told me” You said with amusement, revealing her lie.

Abby's mouth dropped open in surprise, how did you remember? It's not that she thought you didn't listen to her, but she didn't think you paid that much attention to what she said, let alone things she barely mentioned between conversations.

You couldn't help but laugh slightly as you noticed abby's embarrassed expression as she revealed her lie, it was so cute.

“If you don't want to go to the ridiculous party you don't have to” You said softly, your voice more sympathetic and understanding. It was surprising for Abby to hear you say that the party was ridiculous, when more than once she had seen you at these parties. “If you want we can...have our own party.”

You suggested somewhat hesitantly, doubting a bit the reaction abby might have to your proposal, but you swore you saw a glint in abby's eye, so you continued,

“I'll buy food and we'll watch one of those thrillers you love” You suggested with a smile and abby had to restrain herself from nodding instantly, if she had a tail right now it would be wagging non-stop. “I'll buy the good alcohol, not the shitty beer they give out at parties.”

Abby swore her heart was going to burst out of her chest, she had to do everything in herself to act casual.

“Yeah, that sounds good, I like...the idea” Abby said, a small blush growing across her cheeks. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the party? You always go and I know you love those parties" Abby said softly, a little unsure, thinking that maybe you might feel obligated to stay with her.

“I like being with you more” You said softly and simply, abby swore her heart stopped, she had to be misreading things, her heart was playing tricks on her.

“Oh y-yeah, I like spending time with y-you too” Abby stammered, mentally beating herself up over this, she couldn't understand how you could make her feel this way just by existing. She felt like a teenager with her first crush. It was ridiculous!

“It's done then, you should take a shower while I go to the bedroom and get everything ready, we don't want all that grass on the bed” You said with amusement, looking at abby with those sparkling eyes that made her melt.

"Oh yeah, sure, I'll see you there, do you want me to bring anything? Chips, sweets-"

“With your lovely presence it's fine abby, see you in a bit” You said softly, feeling your heart flip over as you watched abby blush and bite her lip in embarrassment, nodding before disappearing into the locker room.

“You're messing with me, aren't you?” Owen muttered with disbelief and some annoyance, looking at Abby with a sour face.

Abby was regretting all her decisions at that moment, at first she thought texting owen would be enough to cancel her going to the party, but owen never read her messages, so she thought about coming to tell him at his dorm, terrible idea.

“I'm serious, you know I hate parties, all the smell of weed makes me dizzy” Abby admitted without daring to look Owen in the eye, she hated that reaction in herself, Owen wasn't even intimidating, but his look and words made her feel incredibly weak.

“Abby don't be ridiculous, do you know how I will look in front of my friends?” Owen spat with annoyance, as if Abby had offended him. “I'm your boyfriend Abigail, do you have something more important tonight?”

“Yes” Abby replied without thinking, causing Owen to scoff incredulously ”I'm spending the night with yn-”

“You're telling me you're having a sleepover” Owen scoffed bitterly ”How old are you? Ten years old? Aren't you a little old for that?”

Abby could feel the annoyance growing in her, she shouldn't have come with owen, she should have gone straight to the bedroom, but no, abby and her damn weak heart wanting to give her boyfriend an explanation.

“I don't even know why you're friends with her, you know she's a fucking dyke right—”

“Don't you dare talk about her like that” Abby interrupted with annoyance, she wasn't going to let Owen talk about you like that.

“Please Abby, don't tell me you're going to defend her now” Owen scoffed with annoyance, something in him believing abby was joking, but her expression said otherwise. “You're not going to cancel on me for her” Owen said firmly, more as an order than a suggestion. “I'm your boyfriend Abigail, do you prefer her?”

Abby didn't answer and silence spread through the room, Owen's face changed completely, fury and total disgust, the boy took a step forward, practically towering over the girl.

“Speak the fuck up Abigail” Owen spat in irritation, grabbing Abby by the arm, as he used to do whenever he was annoyed, but this time Abby didn't stay still and ignore the pain, no, this time she pushed him away, his hand slipping away from her arm.

“Yes, I prefer her, a thousand times over you” Abby said firmly, not taking her eyes off Owen, for the first time telling the truth.

Abby had always let others choose for her, she had never chosen for herself, from letting owen pick one of his ridiculous movies at the movie night, to dating him because her friends said he was the one, but not anymore, abby wanted to choose for herself, she wanted to choose who to love, for the first time abby chose, she chose herself.

“My god” Owen muttered in disbelief and disgust. “I should have known, I always knew there was something wrong with you, you— you´re a bloody dyke.” Owen spat in disgust, starting to pace around the room. A knot grew in abby's stomach, but she forced herself to ignore it, she wasn't going to let him continue to manipulate her.

“You've been cheating on me this whole time haven't you?” Owen accused with annoyance, making abby frown instantly, but abby couldn't even speak. “You were always hanging out in your dorm, that's why you didn't want to go out with me, you were sleeping with that little—"

“Shut up” Abby said with annoyance, she wasn't going to let Owen finish that sentence ”I never cheated on you, not once.”

“You think I'm a fool? Since she arrived you stopped hanging out with me, you spent all your time in your dorm and you didn't even come with me to parties” Owen said with irritation, Abby had never seen him so annoyed, but this time she didn't back down, she didn't let him intimidate her.

“I stopped going out with you because you kept humiliating me in front of your friends, you know I hate those damn parties, you always ended up drunk and only looked for me to get laid” Abby spat, she wasn't going to let Owen manipulate things, that boy preferred a thousand times to blame you for his problems with Abby than to accept his responsibility.

“I put up with too much because I thought I loved you” Abby admitted lowering the tone of her voice, almost sounding hurt. “I can't take any more of this, I can't take any more of you.”

Silence filled the room, neither of them dared to say a word, at that moment Owen knew there was nothing he could do, he had never seen Abby so sure of anything.

“Then leave” Owen said, he didn't shout, he didn't even look at her. “If you're so sure of what you feel, just leave, you know what you're doing.”

Abby felt a pang in her chest, something knew that when she walked out that door everything would change, Owen would soon tell everyone that she like girls, she didn't know what her friends would think, her family, Abby knew that everything would change, and although this terrified her, something in her wanted it, she wanted a change.

Abby left the room without another word, her mind was in chaos, her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she was sure it would burst out of her chest, but for the first time she felt alive, for the first time she had made a decision for herself, for the first time she had decided to follow her heart and it felt damn good.

Abby stood for a good 10 minutes outside the dorms, she felt her heart pounding in her chest, she knew it was the right thing to do, she wanted to believe it was the right thing to do, but that didn't make it any easier, Owen, as much of a jerk as he could be, had been part of her routine, part of her life and Abby wasn't good at letting go, she never had been.

Holding on to what she knew had always seemed safer than facing the unknown all at once.

Now she was alone, again. And though something inside her tensed at the thought, another part felt incredibly light. As if she could finally breathe again.

Still, she felt the burning behind her eyes. As if the weeping was there, waiting for the slightest carelessness to come out.

But no. Not that night.

She didn't want to cry, didn't want you to see her cry, didn't even want to tell you she was done with Owen, didn't want your night —her night of celebration after the game— to be ruined with the weight of a breakup.

Because that night wasn't about him.

It was about the two of you.

About being with you, not thinking about what would come next.

So after a few more minutes of trying to calm herself, she anxiously adjusted her sweater and hair, entering the bedroom with her best smile, instantly capturing your attention.

“Abby! You 're here!” you said cheerfully. The room was made into a movie theater, blankets on the floor in front of her small TV, plates of popcorn and a bottle of alcohol, candy you knew abby loved and the dvd's you definitely hadn't taken from abby's shelf.

“You set all this up?” Abby asked with some disbelief, as if you had done something impossible. “You shouldn't have-”

You didn't even let her finish, taking her hand and pulling her into the room, closing the door behind her.

“It's just popcorn and candy abby, I didn't make a huge thing.” You said with a chuckle, seeing that abby still looked incredulous, because to her it was a big deal, she had never had a movie night with owen or anyone for that matter, no one knew her favorite candy, no one did these things for her, no one except you.

Abby entered the room taking off her jacket and looking with a smile at the blankets on the floor and the candy, plus her dvds of her thrillers.

“We don't have to watch that if you don't want to” Abby said in a soft, almost shy voice, referring to the thrillers stacked next to the player. She said it like someone expecting rejection. She was used to hearing they were boring

“But I want to” You replied softly without much thought “I've never seen one of those movies and they must be good if you love them so much. come on, turn off the light.”

Abby just paused for a moment to smile as she watched you sit on the floor in front of the TV with the blankets, you looked so calm and relaxed, so you, and abby loved every second of it.

The room sank into a soft gloom, illuminated only by the blue flicker of the screen. Abby sat next to you, very close but not touching you, wrapping one corner of the shared blanket around herself. For an instant, she didn't look at the TV. She looked at you.

The way you cocked your head as you browsed the menu. The way your fingers absently fiddled with an edge of the blanket. The half-smile that still wouldn't leave your face.

Abby could notice every detail about you, every detail about you that made her heart warm and made her feel like she had made the right decision.

“Ready” You murmured softly, turning the movie on and grabbing one of the popcorn bowls, placing it between you and Abby.

You were both so close, just inches apart, inches that got smaller every time you shrank in place as a suspenseful scene approached.

Abby couldn't help but let out a chuckle when the first scare came and you jumped in place, pulling your knees to your chest and hugging them, you squeezed the blanket tighter between your fingers, and though you were trying not to look too nervous, Abby could tell. She noticed it in the way you stared at the screen without blinking, as if anticipating the scare before it came.

“We can watch something else if you want” Abby murmured softly, she was tempted to put on some ridiculous rom-com just to get you to relax a little, but but you just shook your head, and instead moved closer to her, snuggling up next to her, as if that would calm your nerves a little.

“No, I want to see it” You murmured softly, you weren't going to be a skittish in front of abby, and the blonde could only laugh lightly, her arm going to wrap around your shoulders naturally, without thinking about it.

For a moment abby could feel you tense under her touch and expected you to maybe pull away, but you didn't, a few moments later you relaxed and leaned your head on her shoulder.

The movie seemed less scary with abby by your side, abby definitely noticed because you seemed less tense, by the middle of the movie you were just jumping around in some scenes and cuddling more towards abby.

When the movie ended abby looked at you expectantly, as if wanting to know what you were thinking, you just stared at the screen for a few more seconds.

“What did you think?” Abby asked timidly.

“I loved it” You admitted softly before letting out a giggle. "Why didn't you make me watch it before? It's amazing!" You said sincerely, turning slightly to look at Abby.

Abby couldn't hold back a smile, genuinely happy that you liked the movie, it was a simple thing, but at least you had something else in common.

Abby's gaze couldn't help but go to your lips and you definitely noticed, you were both so close, your bodies touching under the blanket, you could feel the heat emanating from Abby's body, hear the background music from the end of the movie, but most of all you could see Abby, see all of her, every part of her that made your heart skip a beat.

Abby didn't know where she got the courage, but she slowly moved closer, as if she was afraid to break the moment, as if she was afraid to ruin everything.

Her lips brushed yours softly, just a touch, as if asking for permission, as if asking you to let her.

You allowed yourself to enjoy it for a second, enjoy the feeling of her lips on yours, before pulling away suddenly with a lump in your throat.

"A-Abby what about Owen? He's your b-boyfriend, I-i cant—" You stammered in panic, with guilt, mentally beating yourself up for forgetting, for allowing yourself to feel more than you should have.

But Abby wasn't going to let you sink into that spiral of panic, her hand went gently to your hand, holding it gently, keeping you in reality.

“Not anymore” Abby murmured softly, simply.

“What?” You asked in disbelief, blinking as if you didn't believe it, as if it was a figment of your imagination.

“I broke up with him, before I came here” Abby explained softly, not looking away from your eyes, she could spend her whole life lost in your eyes.

You didn't even dare to think about it too much, you didn't want to, you were afraid it was a dream from which you would wake up soon.

Your lips met again, this time it was you who came closer, surprising Abby a little, but in just a few seconds her hands were on your cheeks, bringing you closer.

Abby tasted like heaven, you couldn't even describe it, it was like touching heaven with your lips, her hands held your face close, as if she feared you would disappear under her touch, her other hand went to your waist, pulling you closer.

Abby could taste your cherry lipstick and the vague taste of strawberry soda, you tasted like glory and she was sure.

Abby moaned softly into the kiss as you bit her lip gently, opening her mouth and letting your tongue in, she was practically melting under your touch.

Without thinking Abby grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into her lap, pulling you as close as she could, and placing her hands on your waist, fearfully.

There were a thousand things on your mind at that moment, your heart was pounding so hard you were sure Abby could hear it, neither of you had any breath at this point, but neither of you made any attempt to separate, you didn't want to, you seemed to want to melt into each other's mouths.

It didn't take you long to notice abby's fingers squeezing your waist, as if wanting to go lower but hesitating, so you pulled away slightly from the kiss, your noses brushing, a giggle coming from you as you saw abby whimper at the distance, seeking your lips again.

“You can touch abby” You murmured softly, placing your hands over abby's and placing them on your hips, feeling her lower them to your thighs.

“God you are divine” Abby said in a breathy gasp before kissing you again, her hands squeezing your thighs hard but gently, the last thing she wanted was to make you sore.

Your mouth went to Abby's neck, leaving soft wet kisses from her jawline as far as her shirt would allow.

Between kisses you couldn't help but murmur praises, Abby deserved every one of them, you couldn't help but thank the gods for letting you hold that girl in your arms.

"You" kiss "are" kiss "So" kiss "Pretty"

To say that Abby was blushing was an understatement, every word made her body burn with need, she had never felt this way, never needed anything as much as she needed you now.

Your hands went to the hem of Abby's shirt, pulling away from her neck for a moment to look at her.

“Can I?” you asked softly, abby was silent for a moment, not hesitating, but admiring how fucking amazing you looked in her lap, waiting for her permission as if you really didn't know abby was willing to give you the whole world. When she seemed to snap out of it Abby nodded softly, helping you take off her shirt, and god.

Abby was wearing absolutely nothing underneath, you swore you were going to die right there, you were drooling over the girl and her first instinct was to blush and try to cover up.

“Don't look at me like that” she whispered, with a nervous giggle, arms crossing insecurely out of pure reflex, but you didn't let the thought last, because your words came out without even hearing Abby's.

“You're beautiful...how did I get so lucky?” You murmured with a smile, kissing abby again and making her forget all her insecurity the moment your lips touched hers and your hands went to her breasts, cupping them gently, making abby let out a whimper into the kiss.

Abby cursed under her breath in between the kiss, her hands squeezing your thighs and pulling you closer to her if that was possible, your pajama shorts were bumping into her pants and it was killing you, every breath and every movement made your bodies brush and a moan come out of your mouth.

Your mouth ran softly down abby's chest, leaving kisses on her clavicles and on her breasts, there were no hickeys, no marks, because you didn't need to mark abby as your property, you both knew, she was already yours without the need for a mark.

Your hips lifted a little to bring your hands to her waistband, when you looked up to ask her if you could take it off you found she was already looking at you, her frown slightly furrowed and her hands holding your hips tensed a little, you instantly noticed all this, pulling your hands away from her pants and cupping her cheeks between your hands.

“Abby what's wrong?” You asked softly, thinking maybe you had gone too far, maybe you had pushed abby too soon, a thousand ideas running through your head. “We don't have to do anything abby, we can keep watching movies and—”

Abby didn't even let you finish, now it was you who was babbling panicked, her hands went to your waist, gently caressing the skin under your blouse.

“It's nothing like that” Abby said softly, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “I've never done this with a girl, I don't know what I'm supposed to do, I don't want to ruin it.”

Her words made a weight lift from your shoulders, you couldn't help but let out a sigh with a smile at abby's sicnerity and innocence.

“There's no way you'll ruin it abby” You said softly, stroking her cheek with your thumb. “Just do what feels right, you don't have to prove anything to me, it's just you and me.”

“Just you and me” Abby repeated softly, looking into your eyes. Your mouths joined again in a kiss, this time much softer, sweeter, a promise that it was just the two of you.

“Let's use my bed, this floor is uncomfortable to death” Abby murmured, pulling you away from her lips and you laughed softly at the simplicity of her words. It was what you loved about Abby, what made this moment different than any other with another girl, Abby was your friend first, it wasn't some perfect impossible movie where you were both doing the perfect thing, you were both doing what felt right.

Abby lifted you easily off the floor, carrying you up onto the bed with you in her lap, there was still that familiarity between the two of you that made you laugh at the awkwardness and give each other pecks to ease the tension.

Abby leaned back against the top of her bed, her hands going to your thighs, stroking them gently.

“Can I?” Abby asked this time, grabbing the edge of your blouse and pulling it off the moment you nodded.

Abby's eyes practically glowed, her hands going instinctively to your ribs just below your breasts, her thumb gently caressing the fabric covering your breasts, and that was enough to make you shiver.

Abby didn't even know what to say, you looked like a work of art in front of her, every sound, every expression of yours, made her feel in heaven.

One of Abby's hands went to fiddle with the elastic of your pajama shorts, her brow furrowing slightly as she caught a glimpse of your underwear.

“Your underwear match?” abby asked in a giggle, to which your face turned slightly pink, abby's underwear wouldn't remotely match, she'd take whatever she could find first.

“Don't laugh,” you said, unable to contain a smile yourself. “Some people find him incredibly attractive and you're here laughing” You snorted in mock annoyance.

“Oh believe me, it's attractive, you could be wearing an ugly nightgown and you'd still look gorgeous,” Abby replied, her lips moving to your neck, leaving wet kisses that silenced any of your ideas.

The room was flooded with the sound of kisses and moans and the heat of your bodies, the only light being the blue glow of the now-ignored screen.

Your hands went to Abby's belt, looking at her for a moment, and she responded with a nod and a smile as she watched you struggle to unbuckle her pants.

Her hands went over yours, helping you unbutton them between giggles. You lifted your hips slightly so Abby could take off her pants with your help, throwing them at the foot of the bed where they wouldn't get in the way.

You were practically drooling over the sight of Abby. Her panties had a clearly visible wet spot that made your own body wet.

Your hands went to Abby's thighs, caressing them gently while your mouth traveled down her neck, slowly lowering, your lips enveloping her nipple and earning you a moan and a hand in your hair, pulling you even closer if possible.

Your hand moved closer to her core, without lifting your mouth from her body. Your thumb gently brushed against the fabric where her clit was, causing Abby to let out a breathy sigh and her hips to move against your hand in search of contact.

“Lie down" you whispered softly, leaving a kiss on Abby's lips and helping her lie down comfortably on the bed, moving until you were between her legs, your lips leaving soft kisses on her stomach and slowly moving down to her thighs.

Abby was sure she could see your lips marked on her skin with the shine of your cherry lipstick, even if at this point your lipstick was completely smudged and gone after your kissing session.

Your lips left soft kisses on Abby's thighs. You weren't going to tease her, you weren't going to make her wait. You had already been very patient, and making her wait would be torture for both of you.

Your mouth left a soft kiss on the center of Abby's underwear before gently removing it, throwing it who knows where.

Abby could see your face from where she was, and it was worthy of a work of art. Your eyes sparkled, and your lips left soft kisses on her thighs. Your hair was slightly tousled, and your lips were swollen after so many kisses. Abby was sure this was heaven, it had to be.

The moment your lips touched her core, Abby lost all sense of reason. A moan escaped her lips and her hips rose up against your face, her hand instinctively reaching for your hair, not pushing you, just holding you there, as if she needed something to keep her grounded, to prove to herself that this wasn't just another one of her wet dreams about you.

Your eyes were fixed on Abby as your tongue played with her clit, watching her every reaction because you didn't want to miss a second of her flushed face and half-open mouth from which only moans and whimpers escaped.

Your hands remained on Abby's thighs, caressing them gently and making sure she didn't close them. Not that you cared if she suffocated you in them, it would be a dignified death, but you didn't want to move away for a second.

Abby could feel absolutely everything. It was as if her senses had been maximized. She could feel your tongue playing with her clit and then teasing her hole, being there but not quite entering, making her bite her lip hard.

“Please,” Abby whimpered, her cheeks flushed, causing you to lift your face and look at her with a smile.

“You don't have to beg, love,” you whispered softly, leaving a kiss on her clit before finally moving your hand toward her hole and gently pushing one of your fingers inside, causing her to moan. You would definitely love to see Abby beg, but not today. Today, you wanted to see her melt beneath you.

Abby was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard in your life. You could feel her squeezing your finger so hard, your lips stuck to her clit, switching between kisses and licks that made her grab your hair tightly.

After a few moments, when you were sure Abby was ready, you added another finger, moving them gently, causing Abby to moan loudly, her hips moving to the rhythm of your fingers.

Abby was sure she had died and was in heaven. She had never felt this way before. Sure, Owen had gone down on her a few times, but she could count those times on one hand, and to say it was wonderful would be a lie. She was sure he only did it out of pure courtesy, but you, damn it, you seemed starved for it. You knew where to touch and where to suck. It seemed like you knew Abby's body better than she did herself.

Abby's brain felt like mush, only your name came out of her mouth in whimpers, her hand held your hair and this time she did start to push you a little, feeling that knot start to form in her stomach. It didn't annoy you at all, Abby knew her body and knew where she wanted you, you were more than willing to let her use you.

Your fingers curved just right and your lips sucked her clit so perfectly that Abby felt that knot in her stomach explode.

“F-Fuck, I'm g-gonna—” She couldn't even finish her sentence. You could see her eyes close tightly as her legs squeezed your head, her hand still holding your head and keeping you close.

You could feel Abby squeezing your hair, but you didn't stop, pushing her until her orgasm subsided, until her hands pushed your face away from her core and her legs were shaking around you.

You left one last kiss on Abby's center before pulling away, sitting between Abby's legs and bringing your fingers to your mouth, watching Abby's eyes open wide, her cheeks completely flushed.

“You— G-God” Abby stammered when she saw you. You looked like something out of one of her fantasies. She couldn't even think.

You could only laugh slightly at her reaction. It was totally adorable. Abby didn't even have words. Her head fell on the pillow, trying to think of something.

“That was wow... damn, you’re amazing,” Abby babbled, leaning on her elbows to look at you. You looked divine in front of her.

Abby extended her arms toward you, and as if by some force, you were in her arms in a second, her lips on yours and her hands on your waist.

Abby pushed herself against the headboard with you in her lap, her hands grabbing any part of your body, gently squeezing your breasts over your bra and touching your thighs as far as your pajamas would allow.

The blonde pulled away for a moment, her forehead against yours, her breathing heavy and the heat making Abby's hair stick to her forehead.

“Please don't hate me... but I have no fucking idea what to do,‘’ Abby admitted with embarrassment, causing you to laugh. Abby had that virtue of making every moment more real, more you.

“It's not funny, it's pathetic,” Abby said with a small pout, burying her face in your neck. She didn't dare look at you. Her need for you was too much, and she felt pathetic for not knowing how to make you feel good.

“It's funny, Abby, you're adorable.” You said softly, cupping her face in your hands and running your thumb over her pouty lips.

“Have you ever touched yourself, Abs?” You asked gently, without mockery, a genuine question, and yet Abby's eyes widened and her face flushed completely. If it weren't for your hands, she would have hidden in your neck, but your gaze was so sincere and sweet that she could do nothing but answer you with the truth, nodding slightly, causing a hum of approval from you.

“How do you do it?” You asked softly, your thumb gently caressing Abby’s cheek.

Abby couldn't blush any more, unconsciously biting her lip, her hand tracing imaginary patterns on your thighs.

“I... uhm, I use my fingers or... o-or my vibrator,” Abby admitted shyly, feeling like pudding under your touch and gaze. Abby definitely remembered that moment in the shower when she almost came thinking about you, but she decided not to say it out loud, she wasn't going to add to her embarrassment.

You nodded gently, your panties getting wetter at the mental image of Abby riding her fingers or pushing her vibrator against her clit. You wondered if she had ever done it thinking of you. Little did you know.

“Mhm, so, do the same thing you would do to yourself but with me. Don't worry, I'll let you know if I like it.” You said softly, trying to comfort her and calm her nerves a little.

Abby nodded softly, sucking her lips and looking at yours. At times she forgot that she no longer had to imagine and could simply kiss you, so she did. She left a soft kiss on your lips, her hands caressing your hair before pulling away, rubbing their noses together affectionately.

“May I?” Abby asked softly, her hands playing with the elastic of your shorts and helping you take them off when you hummed and nodded, lifting your hips slightly and letting her remove your pajamas and panties together.

Abby's eyes sparkled when she saw you, her hands running over your waist, your abdomen, your thighs, until she reached your center, two of her fingers running over your folds and giving you goosebumps, her fingers opening your lips and exposing all your wetness and your hole clenching around nothing.

Abby tried to remember what she did to herself, her gaze fixed on you, watching every reaction to see what you liked. Her hand soon found your clit, she knew by the way your mouth fell open in an O shape and your hips moved against her.

“Does it feel good?” Abby asked softly, her fingers moving in circles against your clit. She already knew the answer, but she needed to hear it from your beautiful lips.

“Yes, f-fuck yes—” you murmured, your hips moving against Abby's hand, seeking more.

Abby smiled, somewhat proud of herself, her mouth moving to your breasts, leaving kisses on your exposed skin, without stopping her movements with her fingers.

Her lips captured yours just as Abby pushed a finger inside you, swallowing your moan. Her fingers were large, much larger than yours, and damn, they worked magic. Her finger curved perfectly with each movement, and her palm bumped against your clit gloriously.

“God, Abby— p-please, more.” you babbled into the kiss. You could feel Abby smile into the kiss, acting almost instantly, pushing another one inside, causing a moan to escape your mouth and making you pull away from her mouth, burying your face in her shoulder and your hands digging into her arms, surely leaving marks.

You could feel Abby's fingers stretching you, more than your own fingers could, moving perfectly and hitting that spot that made you see stars. How could Abby doubt her skills?

“You feel amazing.” Abby murmured, her thoughts coming out loud.

You could only respond with a moan, your face buried deeply in Abby's neck, moving your hips against her hand, feeling her fingers hit deep inside you and her palm rubbing your clit with every thrust.

You felt that familiar knot forming in your stomach. At another time, you would have been embarrassed to be so close so soon. It was never like that, but you had never done it with Abby. That was the difference. No one had ever made you feel the way Abby did.

Every movement of her fingers made a moan escape your lips, your hands squeezing tightly the arms you loved so much.

"A-Abby, please— Abby, don't s-stop" You whimpered, and Abby knew perfectly well that you were close from the way you squeezed her fingers, your legs trembling with each thrust of her fingers.

“I wouldn't dream of it, love.” Abby replied, moving her fingers in that perfect rhythm, her free hand going to your face, pulling you away from her shoulder. She needed to see your face, she needed to see how you melted under her touch.

You didn't protest, burying your cheek in her touch and looking into her eyes as you felt that wave of pleasure wash over you.

Abby wished she could take a picture of you at that moment because you looked beautiful, your cheeks flushed, your mouth half open, only moans of her name escaping.

You felt that wave of pleasure wash over you, your vision going white for a moment, your hands squeezing Abby's arms until you left marks.

Abby didn't stop, prolonging your orgasm as long as she could. If it were up to her, she would have continued for hours, just to see the look of ecstasy on your face, but when your legs began to twitch and your hand reached for her wrist, she stopped, gently caressing your thigh and leaving soft kisses all over your face.

A smile spread across your face at the sweetness of her actions, her gentle touch, and her sweet kisses. After all, she was still Abby, your Abby.

Abby held you gently in her arms, her gaze still fixed on your face, on the smile that made her melt and on the sparkle in your eyes that reflected the stars. Abby knew it at that moment, she had known it long before but had always refused to accept it.

She was in love.

“I love you,” Abby whispered softly, as if afraid to break the moment. Your heart stopped for a second, your gaze met hers for a second, her eyes looked at you with such sweetness as if you were the only thing in the world. Her words sounded sincere and sure, because Abby had never been so sure of anything as she was of her feelings for you. A soft smile spread across your lips before you left a soft kiss on Abby's lips and whispered softly.

“I love you, Abby.”

a/n: Umh hello??? I know it's been a long time, I know! This is really long, and I hope it was worth it if you read it all. Please tell me what you liked the most! I love reading your comments. I loved writing this even though Tumblr deleted it a bunch of times. I know some things are really cliché or cheesy, but that's the beauty of it, right? I hope you like it, and please like and reblog it, xoxo.

© 2025 Moonylvs

Please do not copy any of my writing or feed it to the ai-monster!

[moonstruckme]

bestfriends to lovers broken ac unit at eddie's trailer with lots of mutual pining and tension would hit so hard mae, please quench this thirst

Thanks for requesting!

cw: semi-nudity, it's not really emphasized but it is implied there are sexual feelings between Eddie and reader

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 888 words

If you stand up, you can catch a bit of breeze coming in through the open window. But it’s a warm breeze, warm and heavy with summer dampness, and the floor is actually pretty cool. You go there instead. 

“Whoa.” Eddie’s eyebrows jump when you start peeling off your shirt. “Okay.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes, ignoring the tingle of unwelcome heat in your face. “I’m wearing a bra.” 

Eddie bobs his head a few times. A few times too many. “Yeah. Okay, yeah. Fuck it.” He takes his shirt off, too. 

Getting undressed in Eddie’s trailer isn’t a regular occurrence for you. You’ve changed here, of course, but usually crammed into the bathroom while Eddie changes in his room or turned around so you can’t see each other. But the window unit gave up the ghost on you just before the heat of the day, and Wayne won’t be home until after dark to fix it, and it’s way too sticky out to have anything between your skin and whatever cool surface you can find. Desperate times, desperate measures. 

You let out a sigh as your back meets the laminate wood floor, your damp skin melding to it so surely you don’t know how you’ll peel yourself back up later. Eddie’s eyes are glued to you. 

“You’ve seen me in a swimsuit,” you point out. “Put your tongue back in your mouth.” 

“Is it nice down there?” 

You shrug. “Cooler than up there.” 

He lays down beside you, groaning blissfully when he feels the same coolness you did. 

You feel your face heat again. “Don’t make sounds like that, either.” 

“Jesus, a guy can’t do anything in his own home,” Eddie says. You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I just said.” 

“I’ll forgive you, because you’re a fucking genius for this.” 

You lay still, feeling the way your back expands and contracts on the floor as you breathe. Eddie’s trailer smells like must and weed. Breathing it in fills your lungs with the feeling of home. It always smells the same here. Even when the heater’s running in winter or that time Eddie spilled milk on the carpet in his bedroom and Wayne bitched him out for making the whole trailer smell ‘like a sick cow,’ you never really think it smells any different than this. 

It’s rare for Eddie to be so quiet. You turn your head to the side, and he’s got his eyes closed. He’s as sweaty as you are, skin shiny and hair all frizzed out around his face, and he’s really handsome, but you’ve known that for a while now. 

You can’t pinpoint when you started finding Eddie’s rings fascinating instead of just cool. When you started noticing how they look with his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel of his van, or the way his lips part just before he smiles, like he’s surprised by it every time. You thought his tattoos were stupid until you didn’t. You still think it’s stupid how he has to smoke every time he gets off work, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he looks stupidly attractive doing it, too. 

“What’re we gonna do?” 

You startle at the sound of Eddie’s voice. His eyes are still closed.

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“Like,” he opens his eyes, and you turn quickly back to the ceiling, “it’s not getting any cooler out. Are we just gonna lie here all day?” 

You smile. “What, has this five minutes of doing nothing already been too much for you?” 

“Alright, hey.” He bumps his elbow into yours. You feel the always-surprising swell of his bicep slide against your slick skin. “You’ll get bored too. It’s fucking three in the afternoon.” 

You sigh. “We could…take a couple of beers from the fridge.” 

“Wayne’ll notice.” 

“Take a couple of beers from the neighbor’s fridge.” 

“Mm. That would be good,” Eddie acknowledges, “but they’re still pissed at me for driving over one of their lawn chairs last summer.” 

“What? It was an accident.” 

“Right! It’s not like I was aiming for it. And anyway, I had to pay way more to patch my tire than their shitty lawn chair was worth, so.” 

You make a lazy sound of agreement. “Okay, well if we can’t have something cold to drink I want to go to the pool.” 

You see Eddie’s head loll towards you in your periphery and have to bite down on a smile. “You asshole,” he says slowly. “Why do I even bother keeping you around when you’re nothing but a dick to me?” One corner of your mouth tips up mutinously. Eddie despises Hawkins’ communal pool like nothing else. “Fine. We can do whatever you want, except that.” 

“I want to walk down to 7/11 and get slushees,” you say. Because as much as you’d like not to have to go outside, you don’t actually want Eddie to get in trouble. 

“Okay,” Eddie sighs. “As soon as I can get up.” 

You lay there in silence for another long minute. 

“Eddie?” 

“Huh?” 

You look at him. Eddie’s already watching you, face flushed and cheek pressed against the cool floor. His lips part on a breath. 

“Scoot over. You’re too close, I can feel your body heat.”

[nemisuki]

he's a little awkward || katsuki bakugo x gn!reader, pure fluff, mha drabbles, 440 word count (◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

Thinking about Katsuki Bakugo's reaction to finding out someone has a crush on him. Like when he first catches you staring in the hallway?

He's already furrowing his brows in response, shutting his locker and sending you a challenging glare, wrongly interpreting your actions. And as predicted—like every other fucking extra he intimidates—you scramble away with heated cheeks, obviously not expecting the blonde to catch onto your lingering gaze.

He scoffs, casually resuming his walk back to class, choosing to ignore your presence, until he just couldn't anymore, not with the way you seem to coincidentally appear everywhere he is, always glancing at him when he's in close proximity... for some odd reason.

That's when Katsuki started noticing something strange.

Almost every time he'd come into homeroom, an unopened beverage was always waiting for him on his desk, plopped right on his table — and only ever his.

He assumed it was from one of the idiots in class, but when he accusingly asked around and only received confused looks... he was ultimately left dumbfounded. Leaving him no other choice but to catch the perpetrator in the act!

So call him surprised when he purposely showed up earlier than usual, expecting to see one of his classmates committing such a crime, but instead saw you—an extra from another class—sneaking inside.

He watches as you pull out a sports drink from your bag, already planning to leave it without so much as a note. He stands behind you, grumbling a small, "Oi."

You yelp, staggering back before looking up, your eyes widening at the sight of him, crimson gaze boring into your own. You're as quiet as a mouse, fiddling with the bottle in your hands as you bashfully avoid his stare, offering the drink with shaky hands and a flushed expression.

He studies you for a moment, taking it all in, before suddenly connecting the dots; your nervousness, intense blushing and continuous gift giving...

His own face heats up at your obvious heartfelt intentions, he's never expected someone to actually feel such emotions for him, didn't you see the way he pushes others away? His rash tendencies? The off putting personality?

Katsuki freezes for a moment, unsure of what to do, but nonetheless, reluctantly accepts the drink from your hands, his own heart hammering wildly in his chest as you visibly light up with something close to hope.

He awkwardly rubs the back of his head, catching himself staring for longer than necessary, all while his pulse echoes through his eardrums at the sight of your shy little smile.

Maybe you can help show him... how he looks through your eyes.

➤ navigation || @leleyro @skylermiller1 @aikojwhpa @zaiban2989 @qyuin @sunnyalmighty (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

[innorality]

Can you write a smut of Clark just breeding you in doggy style, and he's so messy to the point where he's pressing your face into the bed, his HUGE sha-boing boing rapidly fucking you?

I need this man to do nasty things to me so bad its actually dangerous

first clark req, how did I do guys 😽

you couldn't blame anybody but yourself.

you asked for this. you asked for clark to go harder on you, to fuck instead of make love. and clark kent being clark kent, he was happy to oblige!

and that's how you ended up with your right cheek sticking onto the bed sheets thanks to the saliva that had been endlessly drooling out of your mouth. you couldn't even bring yourself to think about dragging your jaw back up because of the way his thick cock pounding into you resonated throughout your entire body.

the speed at which he was battering your insides made you go limp, body succumbing to the pleasure that was brought to you thanks to his pace. the friction made your lips heat up which had you bucking away from time to time—unsuccessfully so, because of clark's big hands gripping your hips like he couldn't bear the idea of you getting away.

"baby, you're so good– you- gosh, you're perfect... so, so perfect f'me..." as for clark, he wasn't much better—if not worse. at first, he was hesitant about this, but when he shot his first load inside you, something primal in him blocked out any thoughts of stopping.

when you looked back at him, you saw it—his eyes were focused on a single spot on your ass, and you knew he wasn't looking at you. he was looking inside.

he was looking at his dick pushing his cum out of your cunt to make space for it, he was looking at your walls pressing up against him in a desperate attempt to slow him down, he was looking at the droplets of cum that snuck into your womb—he was seeing it all.

"y-you see that? see?" no, i cant, is what you want to answer, but what comes out is an incomprehensible mix of words he doesnt even bother trying to understand. "t's all me baby– me, it's me in there... fuh- hm– d'ya feel me, baby?" and how could you not? clark was everywhere. you felt him rearranging your insides, you smelled his sweat and semen mixed together, you heard his moans and whimpers everytime you clenched... how could you not feel him?

"c'mon, sweetie, feel me..." and with that, he grabbed your hand that was previously gripping your pillow for dear life and forced it down, pressing it against the overwhelming large bulge on your stomach, which elicited a loud "holy shit–" from you and a long, breathy whimper from him.

he went back to normal vision to enjoy the sight of you disheveled and utterly ruined for him, and god help him—because he almost came right then and there.

his abs clenched when he witnessed the sight of your ass rippling and sticking to his pelvis with each deep thrust of his, the sight of your back arched to an almost impossible degree, and fuck, the way your eye muscles lost tension and allowed your eyes to roll back deep into your skull? that almost got him.

his grip tightened around the hand he was pressing against your bulge and he pulled it to your back, using it for leverage as he fucked even deeper into you (you didn't even know that could be possible), his own head throwing itself back as he started to lose himself completely in the action.

what really made him let go? your praises.

oh, your praises.

"holy fuck– clark, you're perfect, sooo, fuckin' perrfect and- shit! feels so good... so big and so good and so– ah! m'close, baby!" and he knew you were probably just rambling. he knew your brain was melted to the point where it would allow you to just let everything you were thinking spill out of your mouth. but you were thinking of him. speaking of him. to him.

him.

the fact that you gave him so much importance, so much value...

how did he not notice he was already cumming?

your eyes widened when you felt it—ropes and ropes of cum spilling endlessly into you, filling you up to a borderline dangerous extent. it was so warm, so overwhelming, so satisfying... you had to let go too.

"fffuck! please, baby, please! cum for me, I'm begging- please! wanna feel you, wanna feel- hmmm– shit," you're not sure if it's the fact that he swore, the fact that he begged, or the warmth of his seed inside you, but you do know that it was intense.

your entire body shook, muscles clenching and body curling up on itself as if attempting to flee from that feeling. your loud moans and whines echoed off the walls at the intensity of your orgasm, your cunt basically chocking his dick to the point where he had stopped moving all together.

"oh, yes, yesyesyes- please, yes!" clark cried out, pulling on your arm hard enough to drag you up before he wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing your neck while you rode out your high.

when you finally came down from the euphoria of it all, you were panting, chest heaving while you were granted your vision back. "oh my... jesus..." you sighed out as he set you back down on the bed gently, your skin sticking to his slightly.

you twitched when he pulled out, his big hands massaging the globes of your ass softly. "you okay, honey?" he questioned and you weakly nodded, swallowing your spit and smirking before speaking up. "never been better..."

he stayed quiet for a moment before you turned around, lying down on your back.

he looked at you with big puppy doe eyes and you already knew what he wanted.

"can we go again...?"

"clark, you just wore me out!"

"okay... can I atleast eat you out..?"

"clark!"

[dakusan]

How They Act When Jealous

Vampire!SKZ OT8 x Reader | eight ways to be claimed, ruined, & rewritten until you only smell like him

🔞synopsis: You thought you belonged to yourself. You thought they were soft. Gentle. Safe. Then they smelled someone else on you. This isn’t love. This is possession. Glowing veins, fangs grazing skin just before they bite. Hands gripping your jaw. Your throat. Your hips. A growl against your ear as they fuck you until you forget every name but theirs.

💌a/n: uhhh… hi?? i don’t even know what the fuck this is anymore. i started with “lemme just do chan real quick” and then my brain went full feral and now we’re here… jealousy ot8 wreck me wednesday, vampire edition. yeah. i blacked out halfway through minho, woke up to jeongin finger-fucking you against a wall. i think it’s hot? i don’t even know so uhhh… enjoy?? p.s. REBLOG. feed me. if you don’t? minho’s silk ties are coming for your ankles p.p.s. if you want more vamp!ot8 filth, pls request it. like literally feed my brain

⚠️ WARNINGS: NSFW / 18+ ONLY | vampire skz (fangs, biting, blood-drinking implied) | jealousy & possessiveness (extreme, feral, primal energy) | dirty talk (filthy, degrading and praising) | breeding & marking undertones (wrap it up, sluts) | overstimulation (hyunjin, felix) | mirror sex (felix) | throat-fucking / face-fucking (seungmin) | finger-fucking (jeongin, minho, chan) | bondage / restraint (minho, silk ties) | spanking / impact play (chan — ass red & bruised) | wall sex (jeongin) | rough, fast, desperate fucking (changbin, jisung, jeongin, chan) | praise kink (chan, felix, hyunjin) | degradation kink (chan, seungmin, jisung) | light choking / throat holding (chan, seungmin, jeongin) | manhandling / tossing you around (changbin, jeongin, chan) | minor pain kink (fangs grazing, biting, bruising) | crying during sex / tears mentioned | slight blood play

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

BANG CHAN

Chan doesn’t get jealous often—he’s too confident, too alpha to let insecurities rule him. But the second another vampire, another anything, lingers too long in your space? It’s game over.

He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t make a scene. Instead, he locks eyes with you, and that’s it. You know you’re done.

His body language shifts—shoulders tense, veins starting to glow faintly at his temples. His jaw clenches as his tongue swipes over his fangs like he’s fighting himself. He steps closer, scenting you subtly, reclaiming you with every inch.

You try to talk, but he cuts you off with a low, gravelly “Later. We’ll talk later.”

And oh, does he mean it.

You barely get through the door of his office before his hands are on you—one gripping your jaw, the other flattening against your lower back to pull you flush against him. His eyes are blown wide, that soft brown gone, replaced with pure hunger and rage barely held in check.

“Having fun?” His voice is calm, too calm, but his grip on your jaw tightens just enough to make your pulse jump. His nose drags along your throat, fangs grazing the delicate skin. “I don't like the way you smell like him.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he’s already tilting your head back, forcing you to look at him.

“Say it,” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips. “Say who you belong to.”

“Y-you,” you whisper, dizzy.

His lips curl into a dangerous smile.

“Good girl,” he says, voice dipping lower. “But I don’t think you really remember… not yet.”

Then he spins you, bending you forward over his desk in one smooth motion. Papers scatter to the floor as he presses a hand to the small of your back, keeping you pinned.

“Skirt up,” he orders.

You hesitate a fraction too long, and his palm lands hard against your ass in a sharp, stinging smack. You gasp, jerking forward.

“Did I stutter?” His tone is low, controlled, his hand smoothing over the reddening mark almost soothingly. “Skirt. Up. Now.”

You scramble to obey, lifting the fabric over your hips, and Chan hums low in approval. “Good girl. But you made me jealous, so now you’re going to take your punishment first.” Before you can protest, his palm comes down again—harder this time, the sharp crack echoing in the quiet office. You moan despite yourself, and Chan chuckles darkly.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” Another smack, this one making your thighs tremble. “You like when Daddy punishes you for being bad?”

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice muffled against the desk.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Daddy, I like it—”

“Good girl.” His praise is warm, but his hands are merciless. He spanks you over and over, alternating sides, until your ass is hot, red, and marked with his handprints. Each strike is followed by his palm rubbing slow, soothing circles over the sting, just enough softness to make you melt before the next sharp slap lands.

“Look at you,” he growls, leaning over you, his chest pressed to your back, his hand gripping your jaw to tilt your face toward his. “Ass red for me, thighs shaking, dripping already. You’re so fucking needy for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan, arching back into his touch instinctively.

He smirks, nipping your earlobe before pulling back. “Now you’re ready.”

Chan steps back just long enough to unbuckle his belt, the soft metallic clink making your stomach flip. “Spread your legs wider,” he orders, voice rough now. “I want to see how wet you are after I spanked you.”

You do as told, and Chan groans low, dragging his fingers through your slick folds before pushing two fingers into you without warning.

“Fuck,” he mutters, curling them deep, his thumb rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit. “All this just from my hand? My pretty baby loves being punished.” You whimper, trying to push back against his fingers, but Chan’s other hand lands one sharp slap to your ass again, making you jolt.

“Don’t move,” he warns, curling his fingers just right to make you cry out. “You stay exactly where Daddy puts you. Understand?”

“Yes, Daddy—”

“Good girl.”

He works you open with brutal precision, praising you between each sharp curl of his fingers until you’re trembling, slick running down your thighs.

When you’re a mess against his desk, he finally withdraws his fingers, dragging them up to your mouth.

“Suck,” he orders, sliding them between your lips. “Taste how wet you are for me.”

You do, moaning around his fingers, and his dangerous smile returns.

“Perfect,” he mutters, stepping closer, lining himself up with one hand while his other grips your hip hard enough to bruise. “You wanna make me jealous?” he rasps, voice cracking into a growl. “Then you take every fucking inch of this until you can’t even think about anyone else.” And he finally slams into you in one deep, claiming thrusts, his hand landing another sharp smack against your ass as he sets a brutal, relentless pace. His cock dragging through your tight walls and making him groan out loud.

“Mine,” he grits, hips snapping against yours, each thrust driving you harder into the desk. “Say it, baby. Say who you belong to while I fuck you like this.”

“Yours, Daddy! Only yours!”

“Good girl,” Chan growls, leaning over you, his fangs grazing your neck as his hand grips your throat, forcing you to look back at him. “Let them all hear it. I want every single person in this building to know you’re mine.”

Lee Minho

Minho doesn’t get loud. He doesn’t need to. The air changes the second he’s jealous—it gets heavy. His movements slow, deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. He doesn’t confront you in public; no, he waits until you’re alone, because his jealousy isn’t about proving something to anyone else. It’s about reminding you who you belong to.

When you finally step into his space, his eyes are calm—too calm—and that’s when you know you’re in trouble.

The door barely clicks shut before Minho’s hand curls around your wrist, tugging you closer with deceptive gentleness. His eyes flick over you, unreadable, and he hums softly—like he’s cataloguing every mark, every scent, every thing that isn’t his.

“You smelled different tonight,” he says quietly, thumb brushing your pulse point. His voice is smooth, measured, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it. “Do you know how much I hate that?”

You open your mouth to explain, but he speaks before you can, cutting you off. “Don’t,” he murmurs. “I’m not angry. Just… disappointed. And you know how I deal with that.” Before you can respond, you’re on the bed—his bed, where he controls everything. Minho moves slowly, purposefully, like every action is a ritual. His hands slide under your clothes, lifting them away piece by piece, as if unwrapping a gift he owns.

When you’re laid out bare, he sits back, tilting his head, eyes darkening.

“You’re going to stay exactly where I put you,” he says, tone almost gentle. “I’m going to remind you who you belong to, and you’re going to thank me for it. Understand?”

You nod, heat pooling in your stomach, and his lips curl into the faintest smirk.

“Good girl.”

Then he’s on you—slow, so fucking slow. His mouth drags over your skin, biting in deliberate patterns, each mark placed like he’s branding you. His fangs sink in just enough to draw shallow beads of blood, and he licks them away reverently, whispering your name against every wound. His last bite leaves your skin tingling, his tongue smoothing over the shallow wound as if sealing it with his claim. Then he pulls back, sitting on his heels, head tilted like he’s studying a masterpiece.

“You’re still too restless,” he murmurs, that soft voice threaded with danger. His hand trails down your arm, featherlight, before he reaches for something at the side of the bed.

When he lifts it, you swallow hard—a strip of black silk, smooth and glinting faintly in the low light.

“Don’t move.” His tone is deceptively calm, like he’s giving you a chance. But when you even shift your leg, he tuts softly. “Already disobeying? Tsk. You’re lucky I’m in a patient mood.”

He takes your wrists, bringing them together gently above your head. The silk slides around them like water, cool at first, then snug as he knots it to the headboard. His fingers linger, caressing your bound wrists, almost affectionate.

“Perfect,” he whispers, brushing a kiss over your knuckles before leaning down to press one to your mouth. “You’ll stay like this… won’t you?”

“Yes, Minho,” you breathe, heart racing.

“Good girl,” he praises again, voice dipping into something darker. “Now keep those pretty legs open for me.”

You do, heat rushing through you as he shifts down the bed. His hands slide slowly along your thighs, parting them wider, his thumbs stroking soothing circles on your inner skin as if to coax you into complete submission.

Then he looks up at you, mouth curved in that quiet, dangerous smile.

“You smelled different tonight,” he repeats, lower, rougher now. His fingers graze the inside of your thigh. “But by the time I’m done, you’ll be drenched in only me.”

But Minho doesn’t rush. No—even when he buries his face between your legs, he licks a slow stripe up your folds, humming low in satisfaction as you twitch under him. His tongue is deliberate, almost clinical in its precision, dragging and circling your clit in a way that makes your back arch.

You moan his name, tugging instinctively at the silk binding your wrists.

“Shh,” he says against you, voice muffled, teasing. “You don’t get to touch. You just take it.”

And you do—because Minho eats you out like it’s a ritual, like every movement is meant to break you. His mouth alternates between slow, languid licks and sudden, sharp sucks that make your thighs shake. Every time you get too close, he pulls back just enough to whisper against your skin: “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasp, nearly sobbing.

“Again.” He slides two fingers into you while his mouth seals back over your clit, curling them perfectly as his tongue flicks just right.

“Yours, Minho, only yours—”

“Good girl,” he growls, sucking harder, dragging you right to the edge until you’re trembling, toes curling, crying his name as you finally fall apart under his tongue.

But he doesn’t stop.

Not when you cum, not when your thighs quake, not when you’re babbling incoherent pleas. He just holds you open, his grip firm, licking every drop like he’s starved for it. When he finally pulls back, your body’s still twitching, your chest heaving, and he leans up, licking his slick-stained lips with a lazy smile.

“Better,” he whispers, untying your wrists with slow, careful fingers. “Now… are you ready to thank me properly?”

Seo Changbin

Changbin wears his jealousy like a warning sign. His voice gets rougher, his movements sharper, and he doesn’t hide his irritation—everyone can feel it. The moment he gets you alone, he’s already on you, growling under his breath like a wolf who’s just been challenged.

He’s not going to talk it out. He’s going to fuck it out.

You barely get the door closed before your back hits the wall with a loud thud. Changbin’s hands are on you immediately—one gripping your hip, the other tangled in your hair to tilt your head back. His chest is pressed to yours, solid and unyielding, his eyes locked on you like a predator.

“You think I didn’t notice?” His voice is low, growly, dangerous. His fangs flash as he leans in closer, nose brushing your neck. “You smelled like him. Reeked of him. Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

You try to answer, but he growls, slamming his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. It’s messy, angry, possessive—his fangs nicking your lip just enough to taste you. By the time he pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his grip on your hair tightening.

“You’re mine,” he snarls, dragging his fangs along your throat. “And I’m gonna make damn sure you feel it tomorrow.”

Then he’s picking you up with terrifying ease, throwing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, and slamming you down onto the nearest surface—his couch, his desk, hell, he doesn’t care. His hands are everywhere, tugging at your clothes. The second you’re bare, his mouth is on you, biting your neck and shoulders, marking you like a feral animal. Every growl vibrates against your skin as he sucks harsh bruises into your collarbone.

His hands grip your hips so tight you know there will be bruises tomorrow. Each bite is deliberate, primal, a warning to anyone who so much as looks at you again. “Pretty little thing,” he growls against your skin, tongue laving over a fresh mark before sucking hard enough to make you gasp. “Gonna cover you in me… every fucking inch.”

You whimper his name, writhing under his weight, and that only makes him groan—low, rough, feral.

“Say it again,” he demands, nipping at the swell of your breast before licking the sting away. “Say who you belong to.”

“You, Binnie,” you breathe, already trembling.

“Damn right,” he snarls, yanking you closer by your hips until you’re flush against his chest. His fangs glint as he looks you dead in the eye, pupils blown wide with hunger. “Now, you’re gonna be a good girl and take every fucking thing I give you, yeah?”

You nod, breathless, and that’s all he needs.

He pushes your thighs apart with rough hands, dragging you down the couch until you’re spread wide for him. His eyes flick down, and he licks his lips, voice dropping into a dangerous rumble.

“Fuck, look at you… already dripping for me. You love it when I get like this, don’t you? When I lose my mind over you.”

You try to answer, but he’s already lowering his head, burying his face between your thighs with a growl that vibrates through you. His tongue is hot, relentless, licking broad strokes before zeroing in on your clit, sucking hard enough to make you cry out.

“B-Binnie—!”

“Louder,” he grunts against you, his hands locking onto your hips to hold you down. He doesn’t care that you’re squirming, doesn’t care that you’re gasping his name like a prayer. He eats you out like a starving man, growling into you every time you try to wriggle away.

When your thighs start to shake, he pulls back just enough to flash you a smug, bloodthirsty grin.

“Not yet, baby. You’re not cumming until I’m inside you. You’re gonna fall apart on my cock, not my tongue.”

And then—without warning—he flips you onto your stomach, dragging you onto your knees. One hand fists in your hair, the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise as he lines himself up. The first thrust is devastating—a sharp, deep slam that has you crying out, face pressed into the couch cushions.

“Yeah,” he groans, fucking into you with a punishing rhythm, his growls getting louder with every thrust. “Take it, baby. Take all of me. Gonna fuck you so good you won’t even think about anyone else.”

Your nails dig into the cushions, moaning his name, but he’s not satisfied until you scream it.

“Say it,” he pants, slamming into you so hard the couch creaks. “Who fucking owns you?”

“You, Binnie! Only you!”

“Damn right,” he growls, leaning over you, chest pressed to your back as his teeth scrape your shoulder. “And I’m gonna remind you every fucking night if I have to.”

Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin is not subtle. He doesn’t even try to hide his jealousy. His usual elegance sharpens into something cutting—he’s all sly smirks, lingering stares, and pointed comments designed to make you squirm. But once you’re alone?

He drops the prince act. He doesn’t just claim you—he makes a show of it, because Hyunjin is dramatic to his core, and your pleasure is his favourite performance.

The second the door shuts behind you, Hyunjin leans back against it, arms crossed, his eyes glittering with dangerous amusement.

“So,” he drawls, his tone silk-wrapped venom. “Did you enjoy yourself? Laughing with him? Letting him stand so close you smelled like him when you came back to me?”

“Hyun, it’s not—”

“Shh.” He pushes off the door, stalking toward you with slow, predatory steps, his smile way too sweet. “Don’t lie. You know I can smell it.”

Before you can respond, his hands are on you, spinning you around and pressing you against the nearest wall. His body cages you in, chest to your back, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, voice low and dangerous:

“You know what happens when you make me jealous, don’t you?”

You swallow, already trembling. “Hyun—”

“That’s not an answer, sweetheart,” he purrs, one hand sliding up to grip your throat lightly, tilting your head back so you have to look at him. “But don’t worry… I’ll remind you.”

He drags you to the bed, sitting you down like you’re a doll he’s about to play with. Hyunjin crouches in front of you, his hands slowly spreading your knees apart, his sharp gaze devouring you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, licking his bottom lip. “So pretty when you’re nervous. You like this, don’t you? Being punished? Being mine?”

You nod weakly, and that earns you a wolfish grin.

“Good girl. Then you’ll sit there and let me have my fun.”

Hyunjin pushes you onto your back, yanking your skirt up and tearing your panties with a sharp rip of fabric—dramatic, unnecessary, very him.

“Hyun!” you gasp, but he just smirks, tossing the ruined lace aside.

“You won’t need them after I’m done.”

Then he’s on you—mouth hot and hungry against your skin, kissing, biting, sucking his way down your body like an artist painting his masterpiece. His fangs scrape over your hipbone before his tongue replaces the sting, his moans muffled against your skin. When he finally buries his face between your thighs, it’s chaos. Hyunjin eats you out like it’s a performance, like he wants to hear you sing for him. Long, slow licks interrupted by sharp, teasing flicks of his tongue, his hands holding you open despite how much you squirm.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, pulling back to flash you a blood-red smile. “You’re not running from me, love. Not tonight.”

Your thighs tremble under his hands, every slow lick dragging you closer to that edge you’re desperate for—only for Hyunjin to pull away right before you fall apart.

“Hyun, please—” you gasp, hips bucking in search of his mouth.

But he just tilts his head, licking his lips with a lazy, infuriatingly smug grin. His eyes glowing as he wipes your slick from his mouth with the back of his hand, almost mockingly.

“Please?” he teases, his voice velvet-wrapped steel. “Oh no, baby. You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

Before you can protest, he’s pulling you upright, flipping you effortlessly onto his lap. His hands are firm, guiding you until you’re straddling him, your skirt bunched around your waist, his still-clothed body teasingly hard beneath you.

“Take your time,” he purrs, running his hands up your sides before gripping your hips possessively. “You’re gonna fuck yourself on me nice and slow, sweetheart. Show me how bad you want it.”

Your hands fly to his shoulders for balance as he leans back slightly, watching you with that dangerous, prince-like smirk.

“What are you waiting for? Move.”

You whimper, grinding down on him, feeling the hard outline of his cock beneath his slacks. Hyunjin groans, head tipping back slightly, but his grip on your hips tightens.

“Good girl… just like that. But we’re not done making this interesting.”

Hyunjin always had surprises up his sleeves, always creative. So when his arm extends towards the nightstand drawer to pull something out, you expected anything: a blindfold; silk to wrap your wrists; but not a vibrator.

“W-where did you—”

“Shh.” He clicks it on, the low hum filling the air. “You think I wouldn’t be prepared for you? Please. You’re mine. You don’t get to cum without me controlling everything.”

Before you can respond, he presses the toy against your clit, holding it there firmly as you grind on him. The sensation rips a choked moan from your throat, your body jerking.

“Fuck—Hyun—!”

“That’s it,” he coos, his tone condescendingly sweet as he tightens his hold on you. “Ride me, baby. Show me how desperate you are. You’re not stopping until you’re screaming my name.”

The dual sensation is insane—your slick grinding against the bulge of his cock through his pants, the vibrator relentless on your clit. Your nails dig into his shoulders, head tipping back, and Hyunjin just watches, his expression a perfect mix of smug satisfaction and dark hunger.

“Look at you, fucking yourself stupid on me,” he says, voice breaking slightly as you rock harder. “So pretty like this… so fucking mine.”

“Hyun, please, I can’t—”

“Oh, you can,” he cuts in, tightening his hold on the vibrator, pressing it harder. “And you will. You’re not cumming until I tell you to. Hold it, baby. You wanna make me jealous? Then you take every second of this.”

Your body trembles, every nerve on fire, Hyunjin’s smirk curling wider as he leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“When I say ‘now,’ you’re gonna cum for me. And you’re gonna say my name so loud, everyone outside will know exactly who’s making you fall apart like this. Got it?”

You nod frantically, whimpering, and Hyunjin laughs—low, sinful, thrilled by how wrecked you already are.

“Good girl. Now keep riding me like the perfect little thing you are.”

Han Jisung

Jisung wears jealousy on his sleeve. He’s clingy, pouty, and so obvious. He’ll sulk in the corner with big, betrayed eyes, but the second you’re alone? The switch flips—he’s not pouting anymore; he’s needy and filthy and can’t stop touching you.

“Did you have fun?” Jisung’s voice is pitched low, but there’s no mistaking the edge in it. His fangs catch his bottom lip as he stares at you, pupils blown wide, hair slightly mussed from running his hands through it in frustration.

“Ji—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, stepping closer. “Don’t even try to explain. You smelled like him when you walked in, and it—” He swallows hard, his jaw clenching. “It fucking drove me crazy.”

Before you can say anything else, he’s kissing you—hard, desperate, almost sloppy. His hands are everywhere at once, gripping your hips, tugging at your shirt like he’s trying to pull you closer, like he can crawl inside your skin.

When he pulls back, his breathing is ragged, eyes glowing faint red.

“You’re mine,” he says, voice breaking into a whine, but the way he drags his fangs along your jaw is anything but soft. “And I’m not letting you forget it.”

You gasp as he pushes you backward until your knees hit the bed, shoving you down just enough to climb on top of you.

“Ji—wait—”

“No,” he pants, already tugging at his belt, his hands shaking—not from hesitation, but from need. “No waiting. You’re gonna let me fuck you until you can’t even say his name. Only mine. Got it?”

You nod, and that’s all it takes for Jisung to groan, his forehead pressing to yours while his hands are pushing your skirt up to your hips, his eyes locked on you like you’re prey he’s about to devour. “You don’t need me to be gentle right now, do you? You need me to fuck you stupid so you remember who you belong to.”

“Ji—”

“Say it,” he growls, yanking your panties aside, the sound of tearing fabric sharp in the air. “Say you’re mine before I fuck you.”

“Yours,” you gasp, trembling under him.

“Louder.”

“Yours, Jisung!”

“Good fucking girl,” he groans, finally lining himself up, his tip already brushing your soaked entrance. “Fuck, you’re dripping—already wet for me. Was it thinking about me, baby? Or did you get this wet letting him stand too close?”

“I—it’s only you,” you manage, breathless.

“Damn right it’s only me,” he snaps, voice breaking into that needy whine as his hips slam forward, burying himself to the hilt in one sharp thrust. You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders, and Jisung moans—loud, filthy, unrestrained.

“F-fuck—so tight,” he groans, setting a relentless pace immediately, his thrusts deep, fast, messy. His hands grip your hips hard, holding you still as his body pounds into yours. “Yeah, baby, take it. Take all of me. You love this, don’t you? Love me fucking you full like this.”

“Ji—ah—”

“Say it,” he orders, leaning down so his forehead presses to yours, his thrusts getting harder. “Say you love it when I fuck you. Say it’s mine.”

“I love it, I love it—only you, Jisung!”

“Fuck, yeah,” he whines, biting at your jaw, your neck, messy, greedy kisses everywhere. His fangs scrape, leaving shallow nicks that he licks clean between thrusts. “My pretty baby, taking my cock so good—fuck—this pussy’s all mine, yeah?”

“Yes—yes—yours!”

“Say it again,” he groans, his voice breaking, his hips snapping harder against you. “Fucking louder. Wanna hear you scream it.”

“YOURS, JISUNG!”

He lets out a loud, guttural moan, one hand flying to your throat—not squeezing, just holding you there, forcing you to look at him.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” he pants, rutting into you harder, his pace almost brutal now. “You look so good like this, crying for me. Gonna cum for me, yeah? Gonna soak me, let me feel you lose it all over my cock?”

You nod frantically, on the edge, and Jisung loses it—hips stuttering, whining against your throat as he bites down gently, grinding into you just right until you fall apart with a scream of his name.

“Yeah, baby, fuck, that’s it,” he moans, chasing his own release, his thrusts sloppy and desperate as he groans, “So good for me—mine, all mine—fuck, I’m gonna fill you so deep no one will ever—ever—forget who you belong to.”

Lee Felix

Felix doesn’t sulk for long. His jealousy turns protective, possessive—hungry. He doesn’t scream, he doesn’t rush. He just gets quiet, too quiet, watching you with that soft smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. And when he finally gets you alone?

…You don’t get your sunshine back until he’s marked you head to toe.

“Did you have fun?” Felix asks, his voice soft, calm—too calm. His freckles look innocent as always, but his eyes give him away.

“Lix, I—”

He tilts his head, smiling sweetly, stepping closer until his chest brushes yours.

“Shh, angel. Don’t lie. I can smell him on you.” His thumb brushes your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to meet his gaze. “And I really, really hate that.”

Before you can respond, Felix kisses you—slow, deep, almost dangerous. His hands grip your hips tight, pulling you against him, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he swallows every sound you make.

When he pulls back, his voice is lower, rougher, that soft sunshine tone long gone.

“You’re mine,” he says, dragging his fangs along your neck. “And I think I need to remind you just how much.”

Felix doesn’t wait for an answer—he’s already kissing you again, harder, messier, desperate. His lips crush against yours, his tongue sliding in immediately, tasting you like he’s been starving for days. Every sound you make, he swallows greedily, groaning into your mouth like it’s the only thing keeping him sane.

“Mine,” he murmurs against your lips, kissing you between words, breathless and almost whining. “All… mine… angel.”

You gasp when his fingers yank your shirt up, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head and toss it to the floor. He stares for a second. “God, you’re so fucking pretty,” he breathes, almost reverent, before his mouth is on your neck, kissing, sucking, biting lightly—not neat or careful like usual, but messy, desperate, leaving scattered marks over your collarbone.

“Felix—”

“Shh,” he whispers against your skin, voice low and rough. “Let me. Gonna make you look like mine all over.”

His hands unclasp your bra in one quick motion, sliding it off your shoulders and tossing it aside. His gaze darkens as his thumbs brush over your nipples, and he groans softly, dipping his head to suck one into his mouth.

You arch against him, and he hums against your skin, moaning at the way you shiver for him.

“Sensitive, huh?” he teases, his tone sweet but wrecked. “My pretty girl loves it when I touch her like this, yeah?”

You nod frantically, and Felix grins against your chest, kissing lower, leaving more messy marks as he hooks his fingers into your skirt. “This,” he mutters, tugging at the fabric, his voice dipping into that dangerous possessive growl. “This needs to go. Wanna see you, angel. Wanna fuck you where I can see all of you.”

Felix yanks your skirt down in one swift motion, tossing it aside with a growl that sounds so unlike his usual soft self. He now looks around before spotting the full-length mirror across the room and a dangerous smile spreads across his face.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, voice husky, low. “Gonna let you see exactly how fucking pretty you look when I ruin you.”

Before you can ask, he’s lifting you effortlessly, carrying you toward the mirror. His strength is terrifying but careful, his hands gripping your thighs possessively as he sets you down right in front of it, your reflection already flushed and trembling.

Felix slides behind you, towering over your smaller frame, pressing his chest to your back as his hands roam your body. His mouth brushes your ear, his voice a low, sinful whisper.

“Look, angel,” he orders softly, tilting your chin toward the mirror with his fingers. “Look at yourself. Look at how fucking perfect you are for me.”

You meet his gaze in the reflection, and his expression darkens.

“Mine,” he breathes, kissing your shoulder, sucking a mark there as his hands slide down to hook your panties. “Gonna watch you fall apart while you say my name. Wanna see you cum while you’re looking right at me.”

He rips your panties down, tossing them aside, and you’re bare in front of the mirror, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. “Spread your legs for me, angel,” he murmurs, his tone soft but commanding. “Good girl… just like that.”

Then he’s lining himself up, his cock teasing your entrance, dragging through your slick folds as you tremble.

“Felix—”

“Shh,” he says again, kissing your temple, his reflection catching yours in the mirror. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be gentle… at first.”

And then he pushes in—slow, deep, filling you to the hilt in one smooth thrust. You gasp, nails digging into his arms, and Felix groans low, his head tipping back. “Fuck,” he moans, his voice wrecked. “So tight, angel… look at that. Look at how good you take me.”

His pace starts slow, every thrust perfectly angled as his hands grip your hips, holding you in place. His eyes stay locked on the mirror, watching the way your face contorts with every movement.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, his voice roughening. “So perfect, so pretty when you take me. My good girl. My perfect girl.”

“Lix—ah—”

“Say it,” he groans, his pace quickening slightly, his reflection staring you down. “Say you’re mine while you look at yourself. Say no one else gets you like this.”

“I’m yours, Felix, only yours!”

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he growls, snapping his hips harder, his hands sliding up to grip your breasts, teasing your nipples as he fucks you deeper. “You look so fucking gorgeous—gonna make you cum just like this, watching yourself get fucked stupid on my cock.”

When you start to tighten around him, Felix lets out a deep, shaky moan, his possessive side fully snapping.

“Cum for me, angel,” he pants, fucking you harder, faster now, his eyes wild in the mirror. “Be a good girl and cum for me—make a mess all over me, let everyone know who you belong to.”

When you fall apart with a cry of his name, Felix groans, holding you tight against his chest as his thrusts get sloppy, his lips pressed to your ear.

“Fuck, that’s it, angel… mine. Always mine.”

Kim Seungmin

Seungmin doesn’t show his jealousy right away. He stays quiet, almost too quiet, watching you with that sharp, calculating gaze. But when you’re alone? He doesn’t waste words—he plans his punishment, controlled and precise, until you’re shaking and begging for mercy he doesn’t give.

You barely close the door before Seungmin speaks, his tone even, calm—too calm.

“Having fun?” he asks, head tilting, his sharp brown eyes locked on you. His hands are in his pockets, his stance relaxed, but the tension in the air is suffocating.

“Seungmin, it’s not—”

“You smelled like him,” he says, matter-of-factly, like he’s commenting on the weather. “Do you know how much I hate that?”

“Seungmin, I—”

“Don’t.” The word is soft, but it slices through your excuse like a blade. His head tilts slightly, the faintest smile curling at his lips—not kind, but calculating. “You know I don’t like repeating myself when I’m upset. You want to fix this, don’t you?”

You swallow, nodding quickly.

“Good.” His smile widens, still too controlled. “Then get on your knees.”

Your breath catches, but you obey. He doesn’t help you down; he just watches, his sharp eyes following every movement like he’s evaluating you. When you’re settled in front of him, Seungmin finally moves, undoing his belt slowly, as if to remind you who’s setting the pace here.

“I want you to think about how you’re going to make this up to me,” he says calmly, sliding his belt free and tossing it aside. His tone is maddeningly patient. “Because right now, all I can think about is how much I want to erase his scent from you.”

Your cheeks heat, and he smirks, clearly enjoying how flustered you are.

“Open.”

You part your lips, and Seungmin crouches just enough to brush his thumb over your bottom lip, tilting your chin up so your teary gaze meets his.

“Wider. If you’re going to apologize, you’re going to do it properly.”

Seungmin’s smirk deepens when you obey, your lips parted just the way he likes. “Good,” he murmurs, voice low and maddeningly calm. “You’re learning.” Then, instead of immediately giving you what you’re silently begging for, he slides his free hand down, gripping his cock and stroking it, maddeningly slow, his eyes never leaving yours.

You can hear the slick sound of his hand moving over himself, and it makes your cheeks burn hotter. Seungmin notices, of course—he notices everything.

“Look at you,” he says softly, almost mockingly, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock as precum beads at the tip. “On your knees, waiting so nicely, and you’re already flushed. Do you want it that badly?”

You nod quickly, but he just clicks his tongue, stroking himself a little faster now, his movements precise, taunting.

“Words, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice shaking.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Sir. I want it.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face. “I know you do,” he says, voice dropping lower, rougher now. “I can smell how badly you want it. But you don’t get anything unless you keep those eyes on me. Understand?”

You nod again, breathless, and he finally steps closer, pressing the tip of his cock against your parted lips, dragging it slowly across them instead of giving it to you right away. “Mm,” he hums, almost to himself, watching the way your lips instinctively follow the movement. “So eager… open wider.”

You do, and Seungmin chuckles quietly, slipping just the tip into your mouth, pulling it back almost immediately.

“Not yet,” he teases, stroking himself right in front of your face again, letting you watch every slow pump of his hand. “You don’t get all of me until you’re ready to behave.”

“I—I am ready,” you whimper, and his smirk turns downright dangerous.

“Good,” he murmurs, finally pressing the head back to your lips. “Then keep those pretty eyes on me and don’t you dare look away.”

And then he pushes in, slow and controlled, sinking deeper into your mouth inch by inch. His hand slides from his cock to your jaw, holding you in place as he groans low in his chest.

“Fuck… warm and tight already,” he mutters, almost to himself, his voice soft but wrecked. “God, you look good like this.”

When he bottoms out, his thumb strokes your cheek softly, almost gentle despite the filthy act, and he smiles—sharp, pleased, absolutely in control.

“Now, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hips pulling back just slightly before pushing in again, a little deeper, a little rougher, “be a good girl and let me fix my little jealousy problem, yeah?”

The first few thrusts stay steady, measured—controlled in that way that makes it so much worse, because you can feel how much he’s holding back. “You’re doing good,” he murmurs, voice low, velvety and so condescending. “But I think you can take more than this, can’t you?”

You try to nod, and that’s all he needs.

“Yeah,” he breathes, his smirk widening as his grip tightens in your hair. “I thought so.”

Then his hips snap forward, harder this time, pushing deeper into your throat. You gag immediately, your hands flying to grip his thighs, but Seungmin just lets out a quiet, satisfied hum.

“That’s it,” he says, his tone maddeningly calm despite how filthy the scene is. “Relax for me. Breathe through it.”

He sets a rhythm—controlled, deep thrusts timed perfectly to make you choke just enough each time. Drool starts to spill past your lips, dripping down your chin, and Seungmin’s smirk turns downright cruel. “Messy already?” he teases, his other hand cupping your cheek, thumb brushing the tear threatening to fall. “You look so fucking good like this. Pretty little thing, crying for me while you take my cock so well.”

You whimper around him, and the vibration makes him groan low, his head tipping back briefly before he refocuses on you, eyes sharp and hungry.

“Look at me,” he orders, tugging your hair just enough to tilt your face up. “Eyes on me while I fuck your throat.”

You force yourself to look, teary-eyed and flushed, and he loves it—his smirk deepens, his thrusts growing rougher, finally losing some of that perfect control. “God, you’re gorgeous like this,” he groans, voice finally breaking into something darker. “Taking me so deep, gagging on me, drooling all over yourself… fuck, no one else gets to see you like this. No one.”

His pace quickens, thrusts sharper now, making you choke harder, spit running down your chin. He watches every second, biting back a groan as you gag, tears spilling freely now.

“That’s it, baby,” he pants, finally sounding wrecked. “Take it. Take all of me. You’re mine.” Seungmin lets out a deep groan, pushing back in immediately, burying himself to the hilt in your throat for a long, punishing second before pulling back.

“Good girl,” he mutters, breathless now. “So fucking good for me.”

When he finally pulls you off completely, letting you gasp for air, he crouches slightly, gripping your chin to tilt your face up. You’re a tear-streaked, drool-soaked mess, and his smile is soft but cruelly pleased.

“Get on the bed,” he says, voice calm again, though his dark eyes are still glowing with hunger. “You’re not done yet. I’m nowhere near done with you. You're gonna be hoarse by the time I'm done with you.”

Yang Jeongin

Jeongin tries to stay calm, but jealousy flicks something deep in him—the Abnormal instincts he’s only just learning to control. He gets clingy, growly, needy, and when you’re finally alone? All that restraint shatters. He gets rough, fast, and possessive as hell, like he’s making up for every second he held back before.

You’re barely halfway across the room when Jeongin’s hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you dead in your tracks. His grip isn’t painful, but it’s firm in that way that makes your pulse spike immediately.

“Where were you?” His voice is low, rougher than usual, and when you glance up at him, his normally warm brown eyes are darker, glowing faintly gold.

“Jeongin—”

“Don’t.” His jaw clenches, his thumb brushing the inside of your wrist where your pulse jumps beneath his touch. “You reek of him.”

You open your mouth to explain, but his gaze sharpens, something feral flickering in his expression.

“Don’t bother lying,” he says, stepping closer, his body crowding yours until your back meets the nearest wall. His head dips, nose brushing your throat, fangs grazing your skin in a way that makes your breath hitch. “You think I don’t know you better than that? I can smell him all over you.”

“Jeongin, it’s not—”

A low growl rumbles in his chest as his hand slides up to grip your jaw, tilting your face up to his.

“Stop talking,” he mutters, his voice strained like he’s holding himself back by a thread. “Because if you keep making excuses, I won’t wait.”

“Wait for what?” you whisper, and that’s the last bit of restraint he has.

“You’ll see,” he growls and his lips crash onto yours, rough messy. Hands gripping your waist, tugging you flush against him like he can't stand even an inch of space between you. You gasp against his mouth, and he takes advantage of that, tongue sliding in, tasting you like he's starving.

He finally pulls back, breathing heavy, eyes locked on you like a predator.

“Turn around.”

“J-Jeongin—”

“Now.” His tone is sharp, commanding, and before you can second-guess, he’s spinning you himself, pressing your chest to the wall, his hand splayed against your back. Your skirt rides up with the movement, and Jeongin groans low, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh.

“Stay just like that,” he orders, hooking his fingers into your panties and yanking them down in one sharp motion, tossing them aside. “You’re not going anywhere until I fix this.”

“Fix what?” you gasp, already trembling.

“Until you can’t stand next to anyone else without smelling like me.”

Before you can respond, his fingers slide between your thighs, dragging through your slick folds in one slow, deliberate stroke.

“God, you’re already dripping,” he mutters, his voice a dangerous mix of pride and frustration. “You like this, don’t you? My sweet girl gets wet just because I’m jealous.”

“Jeongin—ah!”

Two fingers slam into you without warning, burying deep in one smooth thrust. Your gasp turns into a strangled moan as his hand spreads you open, his thumb immediately finding your clit.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he murmurs, almost to himself, setting a brutal pace with his fingers—fast, deep, curling perfectly against that spot that makes your knees buckle. His free hand presses firmly against your lower back, keeping you pinned to the wall as he works you open.

“Stay still,” he orders sharply, his fingers pumping harder, faster. “If you move, I’ll stop. You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

“N-no—don’t stop!”

“Good girl,” he groans, his breathing heavier now, watching the way your body twitches with every thrust. “Taking my fingers so good… you hear that? That’s how wet you are for me. So messy already.”

The wet slap of his fingers fills the room, obscene and loud as he fucks you harder with just his hand, his thumb circling your clit in tight, relentless patterns.

“Jeongin—please—”

“Please what, baby?” His tone softens for half a second, teasing, before his fingers curl just right, making you cry out. “You wanna cum on my fingers? Make a mess all over me before I even fuck you?”

“Yes! Yes, please—”

He growls low, fucking you faster now, his thumb pressing harder against your clit as his fingers thrust ruthlessly into you.

“Then do it. Cum for me. Be good for me and let me feel you soak my hand.”

You break with a loud cry of his name, your walls clenching tight around his fingers as your body shakes. Jeongin doesn’t slow—not for a second.

“That’s it,” he groans, his voice wrecked now, his fingers still pounding into you as you ride out your high. “So fucking pretty when you cum for me. But don’t think we’re done.”

When you slump against the wall, trembling, Jeongin finally pulls his fingers out, slick dripping down his knuckles. He lifts them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a moan, eyes locked on you the entire time.

“Mm… perfect,” he mutters, stepping closer until his chest presses against your back. “Now you’re ready for me. And you’re not leaving this wall until I fuck you so deep you forget anyone else’s name but mine.”

🏷️ taglist: @cybergracie , @jupitermarss , @basicginn , @dhvnigvil , @emkvlixsx , @collin-thegreat , @somuchpanicverylittledisco , @emilyywhyy , @rainyjeno , @fawnoverdawn , @pixie-felix , @anniestay , @notmeneo , @lovslixx , @themoonlightfae , @heartwithoutaname , @yourghostneighbor , @princesskrystix , @drilles , @y2kur0mi , @mochi-space , @ivaviavi , @phelans-thoughts , @the-anon-reader , @beans4beans56 , @joyfulchaoslover , @channieismylove , @cherryoatchai , @unimportantweirdo , @seagulljk , @freckles-and-rage , @lonelydarknessblog , @girlsymptoms , @bookswillfindyouaway , @jasperlvskz , @geekymommakerry , @dazzlingjade , @alisonyus , @pluto-rose , @crazy4books1 , @b3autyist3rror , @felixleftchickennugget , @loonybunny1 , @itzkaitlynm , @boldy-49 , @zayn-210 , @hanjiswvrld , @ilovedallywinston , @ironyatitsfinest

[andcars]

NEWLY WEDDED MAX VERSTAPPEN HEADCANONS

max who finds a way to jump the reporters just to meet you in the hsopitality. he doesn't care who's looking for him. once his head is set in your lap, there's practically nothing that can move him. gp succeeds, though. it's a guarantee. still, it'd be at least 10-30 minutes of him whining because he says he's too old for this.

max who's with lewis on wearing jewellery because he never wants to get rid of his wedding ring. racing without it feels like a curse. if he takes it off, he's sure that he's going to crash and hurt himself. he kisses his ring before races—knowing that even if he doesn't podium, kissing it guarantees he's going to kiss you after.

max who texts you mid-meeting. if it's too boring or nothing much is being discussed, he just texts you "what are you wearing :)". it's never flirty. he just wants to imagine you in front of him instead of the engineers. when his nth teammate of the year nudges him, he just smiles and tells them "it's my partner".

max who is ridiculously soft in private. everyone knows him as an aggressive driver but once he steps out of the car, he's your husband again. it doesn't matter that he cursed in the radio 30 times within one race. it doesn't matter if he crashed out in anger. he's going to get out of the car, take off the helmet, and press himself against you as he breaths out the persona that is VER.

max who keeps a folder on his phone that is nothing but you. most of it is candids of you in the paddock. you signing caps—because, of course, everyone loves you—, you taking smoothies from the bar, chatting with the WAGs, and maybe if you're just in front of him. everytime you tell him to stop, it's said with a smile and shy red face. he captures that one too.

max who never imagined a life without racing, thinks of a quiet life with you. he's going to move from monaco. maybe somewhere nice and secluded. he's gonna find a way that you can keep doing what you love and use his money to buy a small home for the two of you and little ones when the time comes. you two are going to live slowly and humble. it sounds perfect.

@Delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @fallingforpvris @rtorresblog @Tribbisweetdear @Jamie2305 @nichmeddar @vannylen2144 @blablablablacar

[peachessprincess]

MRS.WAYNE, THE AMAZON

bruce wayne x amazon!reader

summary: imagine the build up of how bruce wayne meets his future wife, you, and it just turns out that you happen to be the sister of wonder woman.

tw: not that much, just fluff, some mentions of bruce's parents.

notes: hiii, I hope you guys enjoy this one, I really tried and I apologize if it sucks cause my brain was all over the place with this one.please reblog if you liked it!

(check out my masterlist!)

DIANA is your twin sister.

you met BRUCE through her, and it was quite interesting to say nonetheless.

see, your sister likes to say that bruce is one who doesn't "get out often." so it didn't really come as a shock to bruce when diana lied about "arranging" a lunch under the guise of discussing league logistics and is instead met with you when he shows up. yes, you were the subject of her blind date surprise.

you knew he was batman. he knew you were an amazon.

and you were both actually planning on leaving early, think it would be a waste of time. but things sort of when you realized that your thoughts were aligned with one anothers.

so you both just sat in this secluded, high-end restaurant and talked for what felt like hours. what was the most surprising out of all was how he had th ability to make you laugh like you hadn't before.

it was like you recognized a sense of loneliness in eachother.

you admired how he wanted to keep people safe.

and it was something about your smile that made him feel a sense of warmth.

it was safe to say you both hit it off.

it would shock ALFRED, who would've caught him arranging for flowers to be sent to you at early hours in the morning after he'd come back to the cave after patrol.

bruce would try to cover it up by saying it's for a friend. but he knows that alfred knows better and is smarter than that, especially after he sees bruce returning to the manor with red lipstick stamped across his neck.

DICK was taken aback that bruce was truly putting himself out there. in fact, he didn't think it would even be possible. when he met you for the first time, he dramatically gasped and covered his mouth because he realized that bruce was dead set on you.

his eyes almost jumped out his head when you told him that you were diana's sister. you knew how to fight that was no joke, dick even watched your skills in archery with utter awe the first time as you showed it off in the batcave.

you were intimidating, in a good way. in a way that made you a right match for bruce.

both him and alfred saw it, the way he would genuinely make you happy, the way you held his arm as you were toured the garden of the wayne property, and the way you told him "i love you" spoke a thousand different languages.

bruce even saw changes in himself, once you became apart of his world.

when he started waking up next to you, he'd admire the curvature of your face, the way your hair looked, and he'd listen to the subtle breaths you too as you were curled up against him.

he has always kept his emotions buried under layers of control and deflection. he's always known how to mask his pain. but now with you, he starts allowing himself to feel, even if only in your presence. you'd catch him smiling at you as you open up a gift he gives you, when he takes you out for a night out, or when your anywhere near him in general.

bruce doesn't share his regrets— he carries the thoughts of his parents, gotham, and the league alone. its how he's always done it. with you by his side now, you managed to get him to open up about that darkness that he's always carried to you. he found someone strong enough to not flinch at his problems.

for years, he has walked a thin line between justice and vengeance, often consumed by his guilt. your perspective as an amazon– honor, fairness, and divine balance— it helps ground him. he starts making decisions less from self-punishment and more from wisdom. he no longer sees pain as the only motivator.

he sleeps better at night because of you.

so it wasn't a surprise when you proposed to you.

it was private. no spectacle. just you and him.deeply personal, solemn, and meaningful. not flashy, not public. not a performance, but a vow.

it was just at midnight. that sacred hush between night and morning— when even gotham holds its breath.

it had been a long day for you both, bruce took you shopping for dresses and shoes, got you new jewelry, and even took you to dinner.

the gown you wore that night was something he would cherish for a lifetime. the way it accentuated the figure of your body, the way it glimmered as you wore at it, and the way it complimented the tux he wore, made him want to do anything to please you. anything to make sure you were happy.

when you arrived back to wayne manor, you noticed a change in his demeanor, almost as if he were hiding something from you and you could feel it.

you were making your way towards the bedroom, visibly tired, but he stopped you and took you up to the rooftop garden. you were in starstruck by the intimate, quiet atmosphere, it made your stomach flutter with butterflies as you gazed around at the various flower that were planted. peonies, hydrangeas and roses bloomed, the different colors were so bright that it felt like they could almost light the room.

when you turned to face bruce, he wasn't on his knee, but he held the box out to you.

he took your hand, kissed it softly and just asked you to stand by him.

not behind. not above. but with him.

he knew your answer the moment when he saw you cover your mouth as you cried and let him slip the ring on.

diana was stunnedd when you told her about your engagement. she didn't think it would work out that well and that would both would be that perfect of a match for eachother. she thought the ring suited you, the diamond was big too.

all she did was asked if you loved bruce and when you told her yes, that's all she needed to know to give her approval.

QUEEN HIPPOLYTA was decently surprised when you returned to themyscira to tell her you were bethroded to a mortal man. but her eyes softened as she held her ground once you told her, "he sees me. as i am. no illusions." she could only chuckle as she took your hands and gave her blessings, as she wished you the softest of prayers.

diana helped you with your dress shopping definitely. she was the one making sure your head did fall off body from the press that would chase you asking if you really loved bruce for him or for his money.

you knew she was your maid of honor since the beginning.

your wedding was beautiful, it was private. just some friends and family. the members of the league were all present as they watched bruce somewhat anxiously hold your hand as he read his vows to you.

your wedding dress was regal, something out of a magazine. it made you glow in his eyes brighter than the lights of the sun. that day you were the one perfect thing in the universe.

and the moment he kissed you on the alter. the moment alfred and announced you both as mr. and mrs. wayne. that was the moment he knew that he would never let you go.

now you stand as his wife, his lover, and the mother to his son. you're a warrior in different ways.

whether that be helping him and dick on and out of patrol. whether that be helping him when it comes to handling charities and galas at the wayne family foundation. whether it comes to helping him be a parent when it comes to dick. or whether it's just being there for him when he's in a period of constant darkness.

it doesn't matter.

you love bruce, you love him, you love his family and he loves you.

and to think, all of this happened because diana lied to him about a meeting.

-peachessprincess is the creator of this work. please don't paste my work onto any other site

divider by @enchanthings

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