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luminiamore · 1 month

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hiiii i really liked your suguru hoochie fic and i was wondering if you could do one with ony where she’s like a tomboy and she has a smart mouth and fights a lot but when she gets with ony he makes her chill out when she start to act up.

thank youuuuuu🫶🏾

best friend ony x black tomboy reader

warnings: a bit of angst in the beginning? fam issues, reader can throw hands, car sex, angry sex a little, overstimulation, best friends to lovers, a teensy bit of manipulation? if you squint

a/n: hope you enjoyyyyy :33

masterlist

Second year, first semester. You honestly were starting to get tired of this hell people call college. You were drained, which was weird since you loved what you were there for. Fashion design has been your passion ever since you were a child. It was nothing out of the ordinary for anyone in your family to see you declare that as your major after being admitted to FIT, one of the best fashion schools in New York.

Your parents, comprising a lawyer and the top doctor in the city, fully supported you in pursuing your dreams. They were impressed by your decision to launch your own fashion line, and before you even reached your third year in college, you had already established your own business.

The outcome was much more successful than anticipated, making your first $100k in less than 2 months. However, there are drawbacks to being raised in a traditional Haitian family.

‘Tifi pa mete gwo pantalon konsa.’ Girls don’t wear big pants like that.

‘Buy that skirt. Ou bezwen abiye tankou yon dam.’ You need to dress like a lady.

It was a broken fucking record, and you were tired of hearing it. You would call them out on it, never being one to hold your tongue. Your parents scolded you for that, too, telling you that no one likes a lady who always has someone to say. You swear you would pop a blood vessel if you heard another one of their lectures.

Of course, you never wore the skirts or dresses they would waste their money on for you. Your family’s Christmas gifts would be just that now. You couldn’t help but want to hurl when you saw pastel-colored tops, the shortest skirts you’d ever seen, and dresses that made you shiver in discomfort.

They weren’t ugly. You recognized the beauty in them when other people wore them. But putting them on your body made you visibly uncomfortable. You always felt awkward in them, and you realized that while you loved your parents, you couldn’t change how they viewed things.

So, you moved out. After six months of telling your parents you were leaving. They never believed you. On a warm summer evening, you packed all of your ‘ti gason’ clothes, as they like to call them, and made your way to the high-rise apartment that you paid a deposit on three weeks ago.

You were happy. I mean, you had no reason not to be. Your parents came around to you not being home anymore, your business was doing exceptionally well, and your best friend was taking you out to eat later tonight.

You were happy.

So, why are you leaving room 109 on the verge of tears after being scolded by your Fashion Management professor for missing yet another assignment?

You were at your limit. You weren’t by any means sensitive, always known for being quick on your feet. Usually, when there is a problem, you are the first to fix it. You were smart, having a high 3.9 GPA, and are even on the principal’s honor roll. That didn’t stop you from getting into a few fights here and there.

Now, you were by no means were you the type of bitch always looking for a fight. But the girls at your university were bullies, and unfortunately for them, you don’t take no bullshit. Not from your parents, and certainly not from them.

You should be a MMA fighter with how these women are left twitching after you’re done with them. And you probably should’ve been expelled, but you were one of the school’s head designers. It would look bad on their part if they let you go, which is why you’re still here. Utterly drained, hungry, and twisting your personal locker open.

“Yo!”

You hear a loud shout from behind you. You take a pause from stacking your latest edition of the Vogue magazine, featuring your designs, in the plain navy blue locker. Nah, not me. You really weren’t in the mood today.

“Excuse you, miss. With the big ass pants,” You entirely stop all your movements and take a deep breath in. Not fucking today.

The outfit you wore was cute, you looked adorable. Standing with a basketball jersey shirt you stumbled upon while thrifting a week ago and oversized jeans. Your new blue Balance 550s were free of scratches and fit perfectly with your mid-calf length socks. Your bohemian braids are tucked into a messy updo, and your vintage jewelry completes your look. You were bad, and no amount of bullying from insecure women could ever make you feel different.

You continue ignoring the person. Your best friend of five years, Ony, told you not to get into any more fights. He said you were too bright for that, that they only wanted a reaction out of you. On any other day, you would’ve taken his concerns into consideration. Today was absolutely not one of those days. Today was one of the days where if someone said the wrong thing, you wouldn’t flinch before knocking their head off their shoulders.

To be honest, he should’ve known better; you always had a short temper.

Still, the whiny voice pesters you until they got right within your vicinity. “I know you hear me talking to you,”

Your method of ignoring is futile now; the girl was so close you could smell the cheap Victoria’s Secret perfume she over-sprayed. You were forced to turn to your right and face the culprit, your sharp eyes squinting at the girl.

You notice you’ve never seen her before. She wasn’t drastically shorter than you, maybe an inch or two. Even you knew, though, you could spank her with no problem. She was pretty, but her style was the complete opposite of yours. Her brown skin was well-compensated by the short pleated cream skirt she wore, and the bow-shaped crop top caused you to look twice at her tits.

You would’ve forgotten that she approached you all hostile if she didn’t put her pink glossed lips together to say her following words.

“You fucking with my man?” Didn’t I mention that you have never seen this girl a day in your life? How the fuck were you supposed to know who her man was? You’re stuck in a dilemma, a mind fucking dilemma.

Should you walk away and be the bigger person, or should you indulge in whatever this was and risk listening to what would be your second lecture of the day from Ony? You shiver at the thought alone. You don’t think you can take another earful.

“Y’know what? I don’t even think it was right of me to ask,” Thank you. You internally think you wouldn’t feel bad for fucking up someone’s daughter today.

“Yeah, there’s no way Ony would go for someone like you,”

Silence.

There was an apparent silence among the crowded halls, everyone stopping what they were doing to stare at the two of you. Damn, does no one mind their business?

You weren’t lying earlier. You really didn’t have an issue with people dressing in the opposite way of you. In 2024, you have a fondness for the way humans express themselves through their clothing. What you didn’t like was how girls with the most basic outfits known to man would think they were better than you.

And did this bitch just call Ony her man?

Your anger was rising slowly the more you thought about it, and you were bout ready to strangle this girl.

“Excuse me?”

Your usual sweet tone sounded almost chilly amid the suffocating tension. Everyone around the school knew who you were; being a fashion designer made the public eye fixated on you. Your fights were a natural source of mass attention. That was what all of your 1 million fans on Instagram liked about you, the fact that you never lost.

She had the audacity to keep talking. “Yeah, I mean, look at you. You should dress more like a-”

It’s a shame, really. You really didn’t want to fight today. Your fist went swinging before your mind even processed what was happening. It was a little uncanny how you didn’t let the girl get any punches; it was simply hit after hit. Were you at 7 now? Or maybe it was 10? You couldn’t tell.

This wasn’t because she was weak; it took about two solid punches to the face before she fell down. But you were just so heated. That comment made something snap in the deepest crevices of your bone. There was an intense sobbing from underneath you, and in the corner of your cloudy vision, you saw pecks of blood staining your knuckles.

You didn’t get to finish your assault on the poor girl; in a split second, you felt an arm snatch you up from your stomach. You raise your head from what feels like someone’s shoulder- Why was everything upside down?

You heard a deep mumbling in the midst of the cheers coming from the hallway, something along the lines of “Never fucking listen,”

Ony?

It seems you voiced your thoughts out loud because the 6’3 man responds with a quick, “I don’t wanna hear shit till we get home.”

Your thoughts were jumbled, and you didn’t have a clear head. You were angry. You were an angry black woman, and you had every right to be one. Ony is your best friend, not your father. So, you were stuck trying to figure out just who the fuck was he talking to?

In a hiss, your voice whispers by his diamond stud earring, “Who the fuck- Are you crazy? Fuck ass nigga, put me down!” you start sending harsh slaps on his back, the fabric of his white tee swaying. But he wasn’t budging; not a single hit swayed him.

Your words must have been a source of tension, causing him to finally put you down. The blood rushing from your body into your head makes your vision hazy, and as you look around, you realize you’re in the school parking lot. Alone. Alone with Ony.

He doesn’t let the thought simmer in your brain, not when you’re more concerned about the fact that he has a tatted hand on your throat and just pushed your body to the nearest concrete wall.

“Watch that mouth. You should know better, Y/n.”

His voice is more calm now, though you can hear the underlying irritation. You’re both glaring at each other, your breathing audibly heard amid the empty oversized garage. His grip on your throat is making you feel things, things you shouldn’t be feeling for a best friend.

You were never intimidated by Ony, and he knew it when you continued glaring and uttered, “Get the fuck off of me,” You try grasping at his arm, but he’s quicker than you. Ony doesn’t hesitate to put your arms above your head, the scent of his YSL cologne filling your senses.

Is he- Is he closer than before?

“Nah, you’re not getting out of this one.” He pressed into you harder, and it was getting a little difficult to breathe. His body heat somehow mixed in with yours, creating a heated symphony. You knew it was coming, another scolding. At this point, you were starting to think you’re 9 again.

“What did we talk about yesterday, ma?” His voice goes an octave lower, and you’re almost sure he’s doing this purposefully. You roll your eyes, refusing to let him see the effect he was beginning to have on you. You decide you don’t even want to let him hear your voice.

Ony doesn’t hear a peep out of you, and after 10 seconds, he loses his patience, “You deadass? Don’t make me fuck you up, Y/n.” You feel the hand on your throat squeeze tighter twice as if he’s warning you. Damp are the only words to describe what your panties are experiencing right now.

Still, you keep up your facade. Ony can see right through you, though, you’ve never had someone put you in your place. You’ve never had someone match your energy like he did. It usually never got this bad; Ony never got upset with you after a fight he had to pull you from. A calm talk and a little praise got you to calm your nerves.

This was before you got the fame you have now. Ony thinks, no, he knows, that you’re going to be much bigger than you already are. And he doesn’t want you being held back by some petty fights. He always told you if you ever had a problem, go to him first, and he’ll always handle it.

But you wanted to be stubborn. You weren’t used to someone taking care of you, relieving some weight off of your shoulders. Being the first-born daughter issued a connection with hyper-independence. And all Ony wants to do is engrave in your pretty little head that he’s got you. And he always will. He genuinely cannot understand why you make it so difficult for him.

“I’m not in the mood, Ony. Let me go-” He cuts you off, coming closer to your soft lips.

“I don’t care, Y/n. Talk it out right now, or I swear we’re not leaving this parking lot.” He read you like a book; he knew you were trying to run away from him. To dismiss this and to never bring it up again. He was done doing that, and the attitude you’ve been giving him ended today. He’ll fix it for you by whatever means.

You knew Ony meant his words in the least sexual way possible. Yet, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering, why does he look so good? The thin gold chain you gave him for his birthday last year makes his brown skin stand out. Through your adrenaline haze, you didn’t even notice what he wearing.

It’s sinful. How the outfit you know he barely put thought into putting on makes you want to pounce.

A white tee that alone made your breath stutter with the way his abs pressed through. You could make out the outline, damn. Black sweats that sit so low, the white Polo Ralph Lauren briefs he had on were teasing you.

It wasn’t your first time having these thoughts, but moments with Ony made you think this way often.

When you guys would smoke together, and Ony would feed you the blunts, his eyes would never leave your lips. When he would come over and cook with you, small brushes behind your hips. You would always brush it aside; that wouldn’t be appropriate for a best friend to think. You were just best friends, right?

You’re questioning everything because of this moment. This isn’t what best friends do. Why is his hand squeezing your throat? Why is he pressing his body flush against you?

Most importantly, why aren’t you stopping him? Why is this making you so fucking wet? You know, if you told Ony you were uncomfortable, he would back off in a second. But you weren’t. The only thing making you uncomfortable is the slickness you can feel drip down the fat of your soft thighs.

Your next words leave him stunned, “Well, I guess we’re not leaving then.”

When your words register in Ony’s brain, he moves quickly. Whispering a stern, “Bet.” With a smile on his handsome face. As if he knows something you don’t. After grabbing you by the throat and letting go of your hands, he swiftly moves to his car, an all-black Scat Pack.

This was honestly your fault. The position you were in, your back arching perfectly, and your slobbering pussy receiving the deepest back shots from Ony’s long dick. You were scrambling in his back seat. You’ve already came twice due to his fingers, and his precision in piercing your squishy spot would make you cum again. You weren’t even sure you could.

You tried running away from the pleasure, pleading for him in your shaky voice to just “G-give me a b-break! I can’t-”

It wouldn’t be a punishment if he did, now would it? His hands would only grip the sides of your hips harder at your words; it would probably leave a dent mark. Ony was letting his dick stir up your insides because he needed to teach you a lesson. It seems this is the only way your mouth wouldn’t retort anything to him.

“Not happening, mama. All you needed was some dick, right?” Heavy pants fill the air, and you start seeing smoke fog up his tinted car windows. Ony was honestly losing himself with how tight your pussy was squeezing him. He doesn’t know why the fuck it took him so long to get you like this. It’s all he ever dreams about.

Making you scream out his name, making you cream all over his dick as he makes you take what he knows nobody could ever give you. Fuck, he swears he’s in love with your fat cunt, with you. “Don’t it feel good when I fuck you like this?”

The more he kept talking, the more you felt like you were losing your mind. You didn’t know if he wanted an answer. But you were already gone, high off the pleasure his fast pace was giving you. You had no control over your lips when they parted and screamed, “S-so good, Ony! Oh-fuck. It f-feels so-”

He went faster at your words, and your mouth was dripping with drool as your face pressed firmly against his leather seats. After the fifth attempt at pushing him away, he tied your hands behind your back with the durag he wore. You had nowhere to run. You were forced to take Ony’s mean pumps inside your folds.

He pulls you up by your hair, never stopping his assault on your battered pussy when he whispers, “I know, ma. I always make you feel good, yeah?”

He slithers a hand to your throat and another down to your twitching clit. Rubbing so fast, your squirt was coming out in small streams. Your sinful sobs made his body shake while he was inside you. God, your pussy was so heavenly. So wet and perfect, he never wanted to pull out.

You squirm under him, “So good! Make me- Ouuuu shit- feels so f-fucking good,” Your body was shivering, you didn’t even realize you were coming. Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as your stomach clenched so hard it hurt. Your pussy mirroring around his aching thrusts, you were fucking up his seats. He didn’t mind; he just wanted to make you forget everything that happened today.

You thought it was over; you thought he would stop or, at the very least, slow the fuck down. But he never let up on your poor pussy, he just kept feeding you his strokes, and he kept rubbing your puffy clit. “So, why don’t you fucking listen? Don’t you love me?”

The anger he felt earlier was coming back, and you could feel it with the way his fat dick was penetrating you so good, so deep. The tears falling down your cheeks came down ten times harder, your clit couldn’t take anymore. Why was he fucking you like this?

“I do! I- I love you- so much, Ony! I’ll listen- I swear! P-please just-”

Ony could feel his heavy balls twitching as he fucked up into you, he was going to cum. He knew you loved him, but hearing you say it. Saying those words in such an intimate position, he doesn’t think he can hold back anymore. He just wanted to dump his seed past your lower lips.

“Yeah? You’ll listen, t’me?” You nodded so quickly before your brain even registered his words. He was pushing you past your limit, your pussy being so overstimulated that your next orgasm was just seconds away from wetting his seats even more.

“Y-yes- Fuckkk! I’m coming.” That was his only warning before your pussy sprayed all over, and your sticky cream coated his dick. Ony groaned deeply in your ear, the hand on your throat giving one final squeeze before he came so deep you swear it was touching your womb.

There was nothing in the air but heavy breathing. Your body, weak and unable to hold itself, fell back against him when Ony let you go. His following words break the silence,

“I love you too, mama.” You feel your heart squeeze, but he doesn’t stop there. “I’m getting you some food before we get home, and allat’ best friend’ shit is dead, by the way. You’re mine now, okay?”

He presses a chaste kiss to your wet cheeks as you lay against him. It was a trip. He fucked you all crazy like that but then spoke to you in the most gentle tone possible afterward. You couldn’t process it. You can’t do anything but nod, your mind still barely processing what he just did to your body, to you.

What were you upset about again?

#onyankopon x black y/n #ony x black reader #onyankopon x black reader smut #aot onyankopon #18+ only #aot smut #aot x black reader #ony x y/n #onyankopon x reader #x black reader #x black reader smut #black y/n #black reader #lumiwrites

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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 5 months

Text

Stolas, Millie, Loona, Vaggie, Stella, Husk, Beezlebub and Asmodeus accidentally hitting their S/O During a Fight.

Stolas

It shouldn't have even been an argument.

Looking back he felt awful about the whole thing, it was all so stupid.

Now, despite his extensive and near limitless wealth, at the beginning of your relationship you made it clear you refused to mooch off of him.

Completely that is, he still spoiled you rotten, and you weren't planning on stopping him, But you had a job, maintaining a level of independence, something you took great pride in.

Stolas supported this with gusto, loving your independence as well as adoring the simple assurance you weren't just with him for the money and status.

It all spawned from when he'd asked you to preform a simple chore, something he'd normally do but had a packed schedule, so asked you to do it.

But of course, with your own busy schedule, you'd forgotten, the task going undone the entire day.

Coming home Stolas would snap at you, having endured a particularly stressful day, only for you to snap back.

You'd break into a heated argument, the both of you picking at every petty thing about each other you could.

Snapping at each other for the sort of things you'd never think to bring up before, but in that moment the both of you were just looking for things to get mad about.

But it'd be after Stolas made a remark, a shallow, but derogatory remark on your status as a Hellborne.

And that, well, that gave you something to genuinely be mad about.

You'd snap back at him, bringing up a moment of vitriolic anger, genuinely hurtful information, the sort you'd never have brought up otherwise.

Stolas, completely shocked by such a vicious outbreak, would snap.

Not mentally, but physically.

He didn't even realise what had happened until he looked down, seeing you holding your cheek, staring up at him in horror.

Cold dread filling him, his stomach dropping as he realised what had happened, the man stumbling back, horrified with himself.

"I... I..." He tried to speak but failed, unable to say anything.

You'd turn away, breathing shaky as you struggled to keep yourself composed.

Stolas would reach out to you, hoping to fix the situation. To prove he hadn't meant it.

If you pulled away, the man would break down, apologising profusely, the Owl in an exceptionally fragile state, apologising again and again, having a full breakdown as he begged you for forgiveness.

Your relationship would suffer heavily, but could heal depending on how willing you were, the man profusely apologetic, promising that'd never happen again, terrified he'd be a monster like Stella was to him.

If instead you allowed him to embrace you, he'd pull you close, crying profusely as you held each other, accepting what had happened and your mutual role in it.

You'd end up in his arms, the man holding you to his chest fluff, your favourite spot, the two of you just sat there for hours, holding each other close.

Yous talk softly, both of you apologising, but Stolas practically begging for forgiveness.

He'd feel awful for bringing a physical element to your relationship.

Not that you didn't already get physical, 17 broken bed frames in 9 months proved you got plenty physical, but becoming physically abusive was literally the very last thing he EVER wanted, especially for his partner.

It would take some time, the two of you spending countless hours holding each other close, talking through your issues countless times.

It'd be after stolas would apologise for the hundredth time, you cupping his face and telling him gently you forgave him, that your relationship would really begin to heal.

Stolas would be on edge for a while, going above and beyond for you, ensuring you knew exactly how much he loved you, being extra careful to be as un-intimidating as physically possible.

But your relationship would heal, you loving the owl boi and him loving you, the two of you handling and moving past the bump in your relationship in a surprisingly healthy fashion, the man only loving you even more by the end of it.

Millie

Now, Millie was an interesting contradiction.

On one hand, violence was natural for the girl. Growing up on Wrath It was necessary, becoming second nature for the Imp'et, but despite this she was also exceptionally good at keeping her cool.

She'd only get violent when necessary, and usually in your defence more than anything.

But it'd be some massive fight, the two of you really going at it, that her Wrathern side would kick in.

The girl shoved you.

And this is Millie, so a 'shove' actually meant she pretty much threw you across the room.

Millie covered her mouth as you slumped against the wall, groaning as you got up.

Millie would move to you, rushing to your side, doing her best to care for you, your arm being injured in the crash.

Getting up Millie would attempt to help you, clearly distraught, trying to assure you she was sorry.

If you pulled away from Millie, the farm girl would be totally distraught.

Never had she had to fear her body nor her killer instincts before, in fact, you loved her body, and the way she was usually the most deadly person in the room, hoo boy, you adored it.

That was one of your favourite parts of her.

And not just for the sexual aspect, though there was plenty of that but for her sheet ability.

She was confident and had the physicality to back it up, which in and of itself, was insanely hot.

But, getting hit by her, even it it was unintentional, would drastically change your view of it all.

You'd stumble back, tears building in your eyes as you stared up at her.

Millie, covering her mouth, would feel horrified.

She'd never mean to hurt you. That's literally the last thing she'd ever wanted to do to you, at least not like this.

But sure enough, she'd hit you, her baser instincts kicking in, the girl striking on pure instinct.

She'd move to you, already apologising, trying to assure you.

You'd be emotional, adrenaline pumping hard as you made the choice.

She'd reach out for you, hoping to show she wasn't evil, that she was sorry and meant only the best for you.

If you pulled away, Millie would feel downright awful. She'd probably pull in herself, freaking out internally as she pulled back.

She'd be entirely distraught, the woman becoming horribly self concious, paranoid of her every action, fearful of if she could hurt you again.

She'd try to reach out to you, trying her very best to reach out to you, but unless you were willing to reconcile with her, seeing it from her side, she'd likely have a minor, though well maintained breakdown, the woman freaking out over the whole thing.

Your relationship could recover, but it'd take a lot of communication and understanding, the both of you working through the event and the subsequent issues in a slow, healthy manner.

If you instead leaned into her touch, the two of you would hold each other close.

Millie and you would sit there for a long while, sat there, speaking softly.

You'd go back and forth for a while, both of you apologising. Talking through the issues that led to the argument.

The next few weeks would be tender, you obviously hesitant whenever she got mad, or became physical, the girl noticing how you flinch or watch her warily, fearful of her body.

She hated that. You used to worship her body, and while it wasn't about her ego, she missed be able to be herself around you, it stinging all the more that she only had herself to blame.

As such she would make sure to smother you in positive affection, the girl near constantly hugging or holding you close, never too harshly but enough that you'd get used to her physic, learning to trust being in her arms again.

Her favourite act to simply have you on her lap, holding you close in her muscular, yet feminine form, the girl holding you possessively, gently kissing or whispering in your ear, purring sweet nothing's.

Your relationship would be damaged, absolutely, the whole thing becoming a scar on your relationship, and yet, with some mutual care and respect, you'd not only recover, but your relationship would grow stronger from the affair.

The both of you would acknowledging your part in the argument, promising each other to do better.

It'd take some time to get back to where you were before the incident. To truly trust and love each other like you had before, yet with an abundance of love an dcare for the the other, you'd grow an even stronger, more intimate bond, the two of you coming to truly love and trust each other, your relationship becoming unbreakable.

Loona

Your relationship with Loona would be... odd.

Both in good and bad ways.

You'd have a passionate, if immature relationship, loving each other deeply but struggling to express it properly, the both of you immature and unable to properly work through your emotions in the best ways.

Fights... weren't exactly common, but they weren't rare either, though in fairness, most of your fights were just petty squabbles that worked mostly as an excuse for amazing make up sex.

But well, Loona was a temperamental woman at heart, and well, that temper had a habit of flaring on a whim.

It'd be on a particularly off day, the girl just looking for a fight, but when it became clear you simply couldn't avoid or talk through this random bout of aggression, you'd let her pick the fight.

You'd go back and forth for a while, arguing and yelling at each other, though throughout it, it was clear your heart wasn't in it, you just going through the motions to let Loona let off some steam.

The problem was, Loona's was.

And it'd be after some sarcastic remarks that Loona would snap at you with a genuinely hurtful remark.

You snapping back with a slightly harsher retort, and that's when the actual fight began.

You'd quickly break into a screaming match, the both of you trying to shout down the other.

But after Loona made a snide comment on you, you'd snap back, insulting her just as harshly, if not worst, really twisting the blade as it were.

Loona, shocked you'd make such a comment, would jump at you.

Now, to be clear, you and Loona often got physical, when fighting or otherwise. But this was different then the usual rough housing you'd do.

This wasn't the teasing hands on stuff you'd done countless times before, the wrestling and headlocks she used to do to assert dominance.

No, this was an attack.

She snarled, the two launching across the room, crashing into the wall, you trying to get away only for her to hit you, something halfway between a slap and a punch.

But that was enough to leave you stunned, staring up at her as she raised her fist again.

She sat there, teeth bared, fist clenched, staring down at you as you stared up at her in horror.

Loona, breathing harshly, realised what what she'd just done, staring down at you as tears formed in your eyes.

You looked scared.

Scared of her.

She threw herself off of you, horrified realisation rocking her form, the feeling only growing worse as you moved away from her.

She'd sit there for a minute, processing everything that'd happened, analysing her part, then yours, then her part.

Tears would well in her eyes, the girl slowly getting to her feet.

She'd apologise through tears, hands shaking as she held back ugly sobs, the woman moving to you, pleading and apologising profusely.

She'd get so close she could almost touch you, pleading for you to believe she'd never mean to hurt you.

If you pulled away, Loona would have a full on breakdown, pleading, begging you to believe she never wanted to hurt you.

She'd likely sit there sobbing for a long time before getting up and running to the only person she could think of.

Blitzø.

Now, upon finding his sobbing daughter, he would naturally become enraged, the man wanting to track you down and neuter you.

But Loona would demand he shut up and sit down, the girl explaining what had happened.

Now Blitzø was no expert on relationships, Satan knows had more failed relationships then teeth, and knowing she'd hit you would really put him in the a pickle.

So, he'd pull in the best relationship he knows.

Millie and Moxxie.

Millie would immediately go into mumma bear mode.

She'd be firm, but fair with Loona, the woman acknowledging that she was in the wrong but not entirely one sided, as you had engaged, but ultimately she was at fault.

Striking your partner is never alright.

Mostly.

So, she'd take the initiative, reaching out to you on Loonas behalf.

Now, she wouldn't do all the work, not at all, but she'd open the doorway to reconciliation.

From there, it'd truly be in yours and Loonas hands, the both of having to decided if you could make it work.

But if instead you let her approach you, letting the girl hold onto you.

She'd sob, apologising profusely, apologising for everything, the girl latching onto you.

You sit there for a long time, loona having a good cry. But eventually she'd calm down, the girl apologising profusely for hitting you, for starting the argument. For being such a bitch.

You'd speak for a long, long time, talking over the argument, going over both your parts, acknowledging and apologising for your part in the fight, though loona was far more apologetic, the girl deeply ashamed for her part in it.

You'd set some new rules and boundaries, the two of you knowing you couldn't let something like that happen again, as such you'd both set a list of rules.

The most prominent of which being that when your frustrated or angry with each other, you'd text the other. From there you'd talk a little, likely call the other, then you'd meet, speaking it through.

It was a system you both adhered to religiously, the two of you communicating through text or phone often, discussing any and all issues you had.

Your relationship would be uneasy for a while afterwards, you still on edge, flinching when she was angry. Over all, this whole ordeal got the young hellhound to calm down, learning some much needed restraint, your mutual affection developing in a slow, constructive and healthy manner.

Vaggie

Now, Vaggies temper was actually one of the things you loved about her.

She was firy and passionate and took no shit from nobody, something you loved.

The problem with your relationship was that you loved to tease her, and that got her riled up the quickest.

Now, it was was always in good fun, usually just to get a rise, followed by some soft kisses and apologies.

It was always in good fun.

But, on that fateful day, you made the decision to tease her.

Vaggie, while not the biggest fan, normally didn't mind your teasing, but on that day, having dealt with both Charlie and Alastor, she was in no mood for your teasing.

So, when you prodded and teased, the girl warning you to stop.

You not taking her seriously would prod her again, Vaggie on her last nerve, would slap you, leaving you shocked.

Vaggie, realising what she'd done, would cover her mouth, horrified.

Now it would definitely be stiff for a moment, both of you realising what had happened.

After a moment Vaggie would apologise.

Now you could take this two ways.

You could walk off, Vaggie feeling awful for hitting you.

It would be up to you whether you forgave her.

If you instead stayed there, the both of you would stand there for a moment, the both of you tense before suddenly, a smile broke across your face, the both of you breaking into laughter, the two of you having a laugh.

Vaggie would step closer, gently touching your face, seeing how your cheek swelled in a hand shaped pattern.

She'd apologise, you taking her hand in yours, gently kissing the appendage, apologising as well.

You'd share an intimate little moment, acknowledging your mutual faults, before laughing it off, agreeing to move past that.

You'd hold her close, the two of you sharing a warm smile before a kiss, holding the short Queen close.

Stella

Now Stella... Didn't get violent.

At least not to you. You were her S/O after all.

But the woman was prone to outbursts, usually angry and especially during an argument, the woman able to go from zero to a hundred like it was nothing.

Granted, those fights usually ended in even more passionate fuckings, the two of you having am... unhealthy, yet passionate romance. Both of you aware of the fact yet neither wishing to really change it.

It'd be one night, the two of you at it again, scream and yelling, Stella throwing a pot at you, you mocking her for having shit aim.

Only for her throw herself at you, hitting you right across the face.

You'd both pause, you grabbing her arms, pinning her to the wall, the woman unable to escape your grip.

You'd hold her there, showing her who held the physical edge in your relationship.

Now, this was the first time Stella had actually struck you, as while your relationship wasn't exactly the healthiest, not many are in hell, but it was never downright abusive.

Now, you did have the option to walk away, this potentially becoming a vital role in the development of your relationship and be the catalyst to Stella genuinely changing her ways.

But let's be real, this is Stella were talking about, and you were with Stella, you knew thing about her, so that's not really gonna happen.

What would likely happen was sex.

Hot, passionate, and nasty sex, the two of you going again and again like a pair of Hellhounds in heat, you showing Stella who's the boss.

Youd make it clear that she wouldn't do that again, though with what happened last time she hit you, it was incredibly tempting.

But well, at the end of the day, Stella is Stella and with a sex life like yours, I doubt either of you would really wanna change it.

Husk

Alcohol.

Husk's Sinful mistress. A mistress you tolerated. For a while.

Now you liked a drink, Hell that was how you met. And with Husk, and Drink always became several.

And you had plenty of fun with Husk, both ina nd out of the sheets, but well, there was a limit.

You could barely communicate with the man in the later parts of the day, and with night the man became almost incoherent, not to mention how he reeked of an abandoned distillery at all hours of the day.

Granted, you'd spent plenty a night curled up with the man, Husk drunkenly adoring you, the Kitty cat curling up with you, acting very cat like as he reeked like a seedy bar.

Not that he'd ever admit such behaviour when sober.

But over time, you'd become more adamant that he start controlling his alcohol intake, and with this steady increase in your insistence, came a steady increase in fights.

You'd begin with a minor argument on his alcohol intake, it quickly growing into serious fights.

It'd be one night, you and Husk having plans, only for you to find him absolutely fucking sloshed.

You, sick of your S/O constantly being lost in the sauce, would start screaming.

You yelled at the cat demon, the man quickly yelling back.

You'd really get into it, yelling and screaming, going back and forth, the two of you screaming till your throats were sore.

But it'd be as you tried to snatch the bottle out of his hands, wanting him to pay you, ya know, his S/O, some attention.

And it'd be as he yanked the bottle back, that the man swung his arm back at you, smashing you in the face hit his big paw, knocking you to the floor.

Your face would sting, burning as tears stung your eyes, staring up at the cat.

Husk sobered up real quick as the man realised what he'd done.

There would be a long pause before you got up, sniffling to yourself before turning and walking away.

You'd end up sleeping in one of the other hotel's random rooms, you too emotional and frustrated to care which.

The next day you'd walk down stairs with a swollen cheek.

Husk would be waiting at his bar, the man thinking.

He'd been up most the morning, guzzling 2 pots of coffee to keep himself coherent, the cat waiting for you.

Seeing you enter the lobby, the man would jump up, asking, pleading with you to wait, to hear him out.

You'd pause, staring at the floor for several seconds.

If you just walked past him, ignoring his gaze, the man would be crushed. The cat finding himself torn between the bottle and his want to be with you, a desperate want for the familiar blur of intoxication.

He'd try, really hard to get better, to BE better, but with every refusal to engage he'd become more tightly wound, and unless you opened up, trying to work things out with him, he'd end up right where he began, but this time, it'd be all his fault.

If instead you turned, giving him a chance to speak, Husk wouldn't miss the chance.

He'd apologise, telling you he was painfully sorry. He wanted to change. He WOULD change, he just asked that you'd give him a chance.

You'd stand there for a while, but after a moment you turn to him.

You'd tell him he had one chance, if you saw him change, really change, you'd be willing to work it out.

Husk would agree, swearing he'd do his best to be the S/O you deserve.

Youd simply give him a soft smile, telling you hoped he would. You were rooting for him.

That being all the motivation he needed.

Husk really would do his best to go clean, unfortunately going absolutely cold Turkey wouldn't work, the man almost having a psychotic break at the lack of alcohol, and after finding him in such a state, you made a deal.

You'd ration out alcohol, a moderate amount each day, the man allowed to drink whenever he pleased in hopes it would diminish, if not help to ween him off of his alcohol dependency.

So, that's how it would go for the next several weeks. Husk drinking his daily allowance, working through willpower exercises and general hygiene care.

He'd also spend more time with you, and it'd be over the dates and the nights in that the man realised he barely knew you. The cat realising he'd really been an absent S/O.

The whole thing only solidifying his resolve to be better.

Over the next few months Husk's resolve would grow stronger, his willpower higher and most importantly, your relationship would become incredibly strong, the both of you coming to love each other deeply once more.

You'd never directly say it, but you forgave him for the smack, the man thanking you in his own way.

The two of you living a happy, mostly sober, existence with each other, happily in love and able to appreciate it.

Beezelbub

Fights with Bee would not be common, not at all, as despite her somewhat airheads nature, she was surprisingly mature, as well as able to read emotions well, so if you were ever in a mood she'd be on that like sexy was on her.

But well, we all have our off days.

And it'd be on a particularly off day that it'd go down.

Now, you understood that she was the Queen of Gluttony and a major foodie, the woman always eager to eat or drink something.

The problem was the drugs.

Now, dating her, you'd tasted just about every Sinful substance in Hell, but where as bee was happy to do mountains, you always tried to keep it at a healthy level, or well, healthy enough to not lose it, or developed any serious addictions, something Bee respected.

That night, in particular, Bee was on a real bender, the sort for the history books. If they have History books down here.

It'd be as she liquefied some powdered drug, mixing it into her drink, that you'd try to step in.

You'd ask her to slow down a little, not wanting her to freak out and demolish half the house.

Again.

Bee wouldn't like that, eagerly pulling you into join her, practically forcing the bottle down your throat.

That'd be when you snap at her, telling her that was enough.

You were all for fun and games, but this was too much. Every night?! You couldn't stand seeing her drugged out of her mind, not to mention the alcohol, woman barely able to speak coherently, let alone function as an S/O after her daily bender, even if she didn't suffer a hangover like everybody else.

Bee, while usually the kindest most understanding S/O you could ask for, but after a full night of drugs and drinking, she didn't take so well to you harshing the fucking vibe.

The two of you quickly getting into a screaming match, going back and forth, Bees palace empty by the end of it.

Bee would grow a few sizes, screaming at you, it being as you snap at her, telling her she clearly doesn't care for you as much as she does for her drugs.

The now massive Sin of Gluttony snarling, spinning around as she intended to yell about how much of a pain in the ass you were being.

However she she spun, he now Massive hand, slammed into you, launching you across the room.

Luckily for you both, you didn't hit anything, simply sliding across the palace' polished floors, but it would still hurt like a bitch, knocking the wind out of you.

Bee would shrink immediately, rushing to your side.

You were winded, struggling and whining as you tried to breath, in pain and deep discomfort, unable to do anything as she fussed over you.

Eventually you'd get your breath back, panting and wheezing, body sore from the smack.

Bee would be distraught, apologising profusely, the woman in hysterics, crying her eyes out as she tried to convince you she was telling the truth.

You could let her hold you close, allowing her to apologise, to help you recover.

If instead you pulled away, wheezing and struggling to your feet. Bee of course trying to help, you simply snapping, telling her she's done enough.

Your relationship would he frayed, Bee trying her absolute best to make it up to you, to be better and save your relationship.

If instead you let her hold you, letting the Sin care for you in your battered state, Bee would do everything she could, caring for you until you fully recovered, the woman apologising the whole way.

The two of you would take some much needed time together, talking and working through your issues.

It wouldn't be easy, you making sure she knew you didn't wanna control her, but you wanted to be with your S/O, and when she was higher than a kite every night, that became difficult.

While Bee would explain such indulgence was part of her being. It would be like holding back a laugh to not indulge in it.

It would take soem time but the two of you would come to understand each other on a much better level.

Asmodeus

Arguments and fights weren't really a thing for you and Ozzie.

Like, you'd get into tufts. Squabbles and arguments. But never quite a fight.

But this was different, the two of you getting into an argument.

You couldn't even remember what started it, but it was like you'd both been holding something in for months and it was finally let out.

You argued and yelled, going back and forth, arguing over nothing and yet, everything, neither of you willing to stand down.

It'd be as you screamed yet another profanity at the man, moving towards him to let him know just what you thought about him.

And it'd be as you reached the man, about to scream another explitive, that he'd suddenly spin about face, planning on tearing you a new one, only for a loud 'smack!' to ring out, the Sin freezing in place.

Raising his hand, he'd find it stinging ever so slightly, the man looking up to find you turned away, clutching yourself.

Ozzie, realising what had happened would try to reach out to you, trying to process what had happened.

He'd turn you around, finding you clutching your face, your right cheek already swelling.

Ozzie, lowering himself down would apologise, telling you he was so very sorry, assuring you he meant no harm, he'd never intentionally harm you.

You could pull away, leaving him as he pleaded with you to believe he was sorry, that he'd never mean to hurt you. Never!

This, as always, could be the event that makes or breaks your relationship. You could move away from him, still loving him but unable to truly forgive him hurting you, despite it being an accident, your relationship never healing.

Or, as he stood over you, you could let him care for youthe man pulling you to his massive chest, holding you tenderly as he whispered softly apologies, carrying you to your bed.

He'd curl up with you, checking your swollen face, apologising profusely as he tenderly cared for you.

Ozzie would apologise profusely, the two of you holding each other close, holding the other close for a long, long time.

You'd talk for a long time, softly apologising to the other, you nuzzling the man's neck, the Sin holding you in his powerful arms.

You'd spend some much needed quality time together, the silent, tense moment slowly giving way to a warmer mor intimate moment, the two of you quickly giggling and teasing each other, laughing at how ridiculous the whole fight had been.

It'd be as you shared a kiss, you straddling his chest as his powerful hands gripped your body.

It'd be as you parted, a Web of spittle still connecting you that you'd grin, grabbing his collar as you purred out that you kinda liked it.

Ozzie, snapping out of his schoolboy blush, would grin, the man pouncing on you, the two of you making passionate, wild love all night long.

Congratulations everyone! We've reached 3,500 followers!!!

So, as promised I give you a brand spanking new headcanon, I hope you all enjoy it and I hope you had a fan-freaking-tastic holiday season.

I love each and every one of you and wish you the very best, bye bye.

#helluva boss #headcanon #helluva boss headcanon #x reader #helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #stolas x reader #husk x reader #stella x reader #vaggie x reader #millie x reader #loona x reader #beezlebub x reader #asmodeus x reader

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runa-falls · 6 months

Text

my turn

part 1 | part 2

pairing: marc spector x reader (a bit of steven grant x reader)

summary: marc has had enough of watching you take advantage of steven and not him...

cw: smut (18+), voyeurism, masturbation, rough sex, dirty talk, degrading words, pining omg so much pining, angst, creampie, fluff?, ft. steven

wc: 3.4k

a/n: long time coming (cumming) -- i just realized i barely have marc fics so hopefully this holds up to expectations!

masterlist

----

You know Marc. But you wouldn't necessarily say that you're friends. And even if you were, you're definitely not 'friendly' with him the way you are with Steven.

If you were to ask him though, it wasn't for the lack of trying.

Since you've met Steven, Marc has merely been a shadow behind him, stopping in to check on Steven's personal life every so often before disappearing again.

What you aren't aware of, though, is that the only time he trifles in Steven's life is when he gets to see you.

Usually, Marc is uninterested in the daily life of his other half.

Steven wakes up, catches (or misses) the bus, gets to work, grabs some food on the way home, then calls it a day. It's a bland routine that Marc set up specifically to make sure that Steven is safe and sane. So, of course, when there's a change, Marc starts to pay attention.

Suddenly, out of the blue, you're everywhere.

A smile in the background of Steven's phone, a sticky note on the fridge reminding him to get more blueberries, and the oversized sweater you leave on the armchair one day that Steven steals whenever you're away.

He has no idea how you came into the picture, how he's never noticed you, or how Steven of all people captured your attention.

All he knows is that Steven is fumbling. Hard.

Marc had no idea what the nature of your relationship was until he had a front row ticket to one of your friendly favors.

---

Steven isn't subtle about his feelings. Anytime he's exceptionally scared or excited, Marc is called forward by his subconscious mind just in case he's in danger.

Usually, Marc is forced to front when Steven is about to burn his flat down from his nth attempt at cooking, or when he nearly walks into a busy intersection because he has his nose stuck in a book. But he never expected this.

He knew you liked to baby Steven. Take care of him because he had no one else to turn to (except Gus of course), but he just assumed you were being friendly, a kind soul willing to take Steven under your wing.

Nothing could have prepared him for when he woke up to the sight of you on your knees in front of him. It's odd being in the back seat of his body while Steven is getting all of your attention. He can feel everything, from the way your soft lips brush so sweetly against his cock to the hot suction of your mouth, but there's something that's holding him back from taking what he wants.

He wants so badly to bury his hand in your hair and push you down onto him until you're making a mess of yourself, eyes welling with pretty tears and drool dripping down your chin. He needs to tell you what a good girl you're being for him, so desperate for his cock in your throat. He wants to pick you up and carry you over to the bed to show you just how beautiful you are.

He wants you to look up and know it's him.

But he can't. Because who knows when this development started.

You acted platonically just the other day, and now, you're begging for Steven to cum on your tits.

What are you to each other?

If interferes now and messes this up for Steven, you might leave their lives altogether. Damn, how have you lured him into your clutches without even talking to him?

For all he knows, it could be a one-off thing...

---

It's decidedly not a one-off thing.

Marc has barely had the chance to front since the first time you made a move on Steven. You're always coming over, whether it's a spontaneous movie night or an offer to cook Steven some dinner, you always find a way to slither your way back into his bed. Not that Steven minds.

But Marc does.

With each fumbling move that Steven makes, Marc gets pushed closer to the edge. He could do it so much better. Make it clear that you're wanted. Give you the pleasure you deserve.

He cringes inside with every wary arm that gets thrown over your shoulder during a movie (one of Steven's signature moves to get you to cuddle -- somehow it works, every time). With the messy, unpracticed kisses that Steven haphazardly presses against your sweet lips.

He physically holds himself back from taking control of the body whenever you fall asleep in Steven's arms. He wants to hold you, feel your body molded against his, even if you have no idea it's him.

It's painful watching the two of you walk circles around the truth.

"I'm always thinking about you." Just tell her that you like her, you idiot! What is there to be afraid of? She looks at you like you painted the stars and hung the moon!

At this point, he doesn't even know why he tries.

Whenever you're around, Steven has total tunnel vision. He practically follows you around like some lost puppy. He lets sweet words spill from his lips without even thinking first and you lap up any type of affection he'll give you.

It's a vicious cycle of obliviousness.

Steven is a lost cause. But he isn't.

He can't take it anymore. He can't take waking up with a lingering taste of you on his tongue, or seeing your lovesick smile directed at someone else. He can't take the way you treat him like a stranger, like someone to avoid.

He wants you. So he's going to show you.

---

It's been a long day.

Marc's been out, jumping on top of roofs and kicking ass, all while Steven's 'sweetheart' blows up his phone.

Marc narrows his eyes, shuffling through all the smiley faces and hearts that litter your messages (and the thumbs up messages from Steven).

This book made me think of you <3

A cute little picture of you holding a book next to your face stares back at him, painting his face in a soft glow as he stands in the darkness of the night. He wants to crush the device in his hand.

Call me when you get home safe :)

You know exactly where Marc is right now, and what his life consists of, but you always avoid talking about him directly. You're always just waiting for Steven to come home so he can sleepily tell you he's back in bed and give you the green light to come over and snuggle your face into his chest.

Marc likes to think that he makes measured decisions, but what he does next is completely out of character:

Come over.

---

He's a little impatient, sitting on his worn couch as he waits for you to show up. You said you'd be 20 minutes, but it's been 30 since he texted you.

Sory thought the cookies would be done earlier! I'm otw now!

Your hastily typed out text blinks up from the forgotten phone that lies next to him. He read the sheepish reply when you sent it, but didn't bother to text back because of course you baked cookies for Steven.

He's starting to regret tricking you over. All he can think about is the inevitable rejection he'll get once you realize he's not Steven.

Marc leans back against the collection of overstuffed pillows and (your) gifted squish-mallows that decorate the couch, not caring that he's taking up as much space as possible. Flashes of your time with Steven override his doubts, reminding him of the softness that only you can provide.

He doesn't even realize he's unbuttoning his pants until his hand slips himself out of his briefs. Fuck, he's already so hard just thinking about you.

He doesn't want to get himself too worked up so he attempts to take it slow, stroking and squeezing himself until he's teetering at the edge, pretending that it's your hand instead of his. He quickly gets lost in the feeling, floating in a euphoric dream of you and your touch. It isn't until he hears the door click open that he returns to reality.

You're here. The thought alone nearly makes him spill over himself.

"Steven!"

-- And he's good.

"I'm here--oof," He hears you run into a kitchen stool, "why is it so dark in here?"

He should shove himself back into his pants and greet you like a normal human being, but some sick thing inside of him wants you to see what you do to him.

You place a container of freshly baked cookies on the counter with a smile, satisfied with your work and excited to see him try one. You've been working on a new vegan snickerdoodle recipe just for him.

A sweet treat for your sweet treat. You nearly giggle at your thoughts.

You take a second to smooth down any wrinkles on your dress, desperate to look nice for him. Steven has no idea how obsessed with him you are. You want him all the time. You're constantly craving to coax out soft whines and stutters from your favorite boy.

You look around the dim flat.

Where the hell is he?

Usually you'd find him in front of his makeshift desk, sprawling through various books under a harsh lamp, but tonight his spot is empty.

A soft grunt guides you to the couch, your usual movie night spot. No way he's starting without you.

"Ah, there you are." You're slightly put out that he doesn't move to greet you, but maybe Marc's mission just took a particularly harsh toll on his body.

It's only when you're standing at the side of the couch that he meets your eyes. And you meet his...hard cock, desperately throbbing in his hand. What a sight. Your eyes nearly glaze over at the sight of his mussed hair and laid back positioning.

He just looks up at you, casually. He's been expecting you. He wants you to watch him. It makes it that much more delicious.

He doesn't shy back at your presence. If anything, he sits up to give you a better view. His hand moves methodically -- controlled, stroking himself from tip to base as his half-lidded eyes stare straight back at you.

His dark look and posture nearly make him unrecognizable. It's not just the clothes he's wearing, or the 5 o'clock shadow, but the way he furrows his eyebrows and grips himself so confidently, like he does it all the time.

You shake off the odd feeling settling in your stomach and move over to him with the practiced grace that usually makes him weak in the knees for you.

"Mm...Steven...you're quite needy right now, aren't you?"

He raises a dark eyebrow, briefly squeezing himself in his hand as he unabashedly takes in your figure, draped in a soft dress. He's not backing down like you're used to. At this point, he's supposed to be begging for you to touch him, not staring you down like you're a piece of meat.

"M'not Steven, sweetheart." His voice makes you freeze in front of him and all of the confidence you once held rushes out of your body.

"M-marc?"

A cynical smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You remember me?"

You capture your bottom lip into your mouth, holding yourself back from crawling on top of him and skipping the conversation. The dark and intense version of your lover is serving himself up on a silver platter, and all you can do is watch.

"Why wouldn't I?" He shrugs.

You can tell he's enjoying this, watching you squirm uncomfortably as he teases himself right in front of you. He touches himself like it's an afterthought, something to simply accompany the sight of you.

"W-where's Steven? I was supposed to meet him here..."

"I'm the one who texted you."

You freeze, not knowing what to do.

He wants you here?

He wants you?

"You...?"

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna be a good girl for me like you are with Steven?"

What would Steven think?

"I-I don't know..."

"C'mon, you're always dying to suck him off."

Your face flushes at his bluntness. Are you that obvious?

A hand comes up to hold you by the waist before you're pulled closer to him. He looks up at you, eye-level with your chest, looking as predatory as ever, despite his position under you.

"What's the difference, hm?" He slides a warm hand under the hem of your dress, gently caressing the bare skin of your outer thigh. "It's the same body on top of you. The same cock stretching you out..." You shiver when you feel his fingers tease the edge of your panties, the deep red lace you picked out specially for Steven. "...even the same cum filling you up."

You look down, mesmerized by the way his hand moves under the thin fabric of your dress. You watch his shrouded arm pull at the fabric until it barely brushes at your upper thigh as his hand slides up over the softness of your stomach and the dips of your ribs, before stopping at the curve of your breast.

"You want this."

It's not a question, it's a statement. And he's right.

He watches your eyes flutter close as he cups you in his hand. Despite the heat in his eyes, he handles you so softly. Like you're a porcelain doll in his hands. It's a familiar touch, but there's a hint of something more.

"Steven..." You breathe out. It's said out of habit. This feeling inside of you has only been associated with one person. It's always been him. But now, a whole other side of yourself is opening up.

You quickly realize your mistake when his grip tightens around your waist and on your breast, demanding your attention.

"No." His voice is low, "Not him."

"M-marc."

He hums and rewards you with a teasing flick of his thumb over your nipple. You're disappointed when his touch suddenly leaves you, but before you can complain, he begins to work his pants all the way off.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart." He pulls you close enough that you nearly fall over him, causing you to straddle his lap and sit chest-to-chest. "Tonight's about us." The skirt of your dress falls around your thighs, shielding the way his length presses against your inner thigh.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, flustered by the feeling of his hot body against yours, at the idea that this is really happening.

You breathe in once. Is that..?

And then, once again.

He smells like him.

"You good, baby?" He rubs over the tops of your thighs comfortingly while subtly shoving your skirt up to your waist.

"Mhm..." You hum against his skin, relishing in the feeling of his embrace. You experimentally push your hips against his, grinding your needy center against his. He groans at the contact and cants his hips upwards, forcing you to feel just how hard he is.

Your cunt pulses in desperation as he continues to rut against your clothed clit. You're nearly soaking through your underwear with how wet you are. And by the way he groans against you, he can tell.

An eager hand shoves between your bodies to shove your panties to the side. "Need to feel you." He drags a finger against you, spreading your slick until it runs down the palm of his hand. "Fuck. You're so ready for me."

"P-please." It's a hushed whisper against his shoulder, but he hears it loud and clear.

"Please, what?" He pushes you back, forcing you to look at him as he lines himself up. Heat pricks at the tops of your cheeks before you cast your eyes downwards.

Is he really going to make you say it?

"M-marc." You whimper as he brushes the tip of his cock through the seam of your cunt, covering himself with your lust. He mouths at your neck, ignoring your pleas by keeping himself busy sucking bites and bruises into your skin. "Please, fuck me, Marc."

He barely gives you a second before he's pushing in with a single fluid motion. The feeling is indescribable. How can he share a body with Steven, but make this feel so different?

"So big..." You gasp out, thighs trembling around his.

"Taking me so well, baby. Just let me in."

He pushes up until you're filled to the brim, drawing out a broken moan from your lips. The stretch is exquisite in this position. You feel like you've never felt anyone as deeply as he is right now.

As soon as he's sure you're comfortable, he starts moving, grinding up against you until you're looping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. You're mewls fill the room as his cock drags perfectly against your slick walls. You arch your back and start moving over him, desperate to feel him entirely.

He watches you bounce on his lap, timing his movements so his thrusts meet yours.

"Such a greedy slut aren't you?" His harsh words are punctuated with sharp thrusts, causing you to clench around him involuntarily. The sensation almost leaves him breathless, but he continues talking through gritted teeth. "You couldn't get enough from Steven, hm?"

His pants turn into rough grunts as he speeds up. He thrusting into you like he's taking revenge, like he's proving that he's the piece that's been missing from your life.

You shake your head, "Need b-both."

"Yeah, you do. Always so desperate to be filled by this cock." He holds you in place and begins to viciously thrust up into you.

"O-oh-!" He's hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You can't help the way your mouth gapes at the toe curling sensation.

Everything around you quickly fades away and all you can see, hear, and feel is him. You can't even articulate anything when pure ecstasy blooms in your core and permeates throughout your body.

You seize in his hold as he continues to roll his hips against yours, feeling boneless from the pleasure that hums through every nerve. He groans at the flutter of your walls around him, gripping him so tight in your warmth. He can barely get out a handful of thrusts before he's spilling inside of you.

You're a mess on top of him, soaking his lap in a mixture of the two of you. Your hair sticks to your face and neck, but it doesn't matter when you can still feel him pulsing inside of you.

Your eyes flutter open as a gentle hand caresses your jaw and guides you to lean in.

You meet vulnerable eyes framed by dark lashes.

He takes a breath, like he's bracing for the worst, but he doesn't have the chance to let it go before you're pressing your lips against his.

---

You sleep like a rock. It's almost like no time has passed. Why dream when you have everything you want right in front of you?

Or behind you, that is.

You can already tell it's Steven with the way he nuzzles himself against the back of your neck. "G'mornin', darling." He's adorable with his roughened groggy voice.

"Hi, baby." He curls up at the pet name and holds you closer, already flustered before he has fully woken up. You can tell it takes him a few moments to blink the sleep away because suddenly he's stiff against you (and not in a good way).

"W-what. What happened?"

You sigh, "Marc happened."

"Did he hurt you? Oh my god," He pushes away to get a better view, "was he mauling your neck?!"

"Steven, it's fine." You feel your face warm up at the thought of the night before. "I...kinda liked it."

Steven huffs to himself as his thumb lightly brushes over a particularly obvious bruise on your neck, "He's trying to steal my girlfriend."

You nearly choke on yourself, "G-girlfriend?"

"Yes...? I mean, you are, right? Unless," Steven's eyes widen, "I-uh, didn't mean to assume--"

"No, Steven. I-I'd love to be your girlfriend."

#marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight

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biteofcherry · 1 year

Text

Nature’s beauty

mountain rescuer Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: Your teasing comment about staying home barefoot and pregnant makes something in Steve snap. He’s now eager to turn it into reality.

warnings: consensual; barebacking; breeding kink; housewife kink; light bondage; dubiously consensual taking of risky pictures; lots of filthy talk (not even dirty, just nasty filth); mention of cumplay; established relationship; Steve’s a rescuer but who will rescue us from Steve’s hotness;

*no squirrels were harmed in the process of writing the story

“Come on. Get out of there!” You huffed, tapping your fingers against the wood of the small birdhouse installed high on the tree trunk.

It was a birdhouse - and just this morning you saw a small, colorful bird check it out - but some sneaky, red squirrel decided to squat inside it. How did it even fit through the tiny hole, you had no idea.

You noticed it as you returned from your little hike, seeing a flash of an orange fluffy tail as the squirrel stuffed its tiny butt through the hole. So you tried climbing the tree, not much successfully, and scare the intruder out.

It wouldn’t be a good house for a growing squirrel anyway.

To prop yourself, you used one of the wooden crates Steve built you for the vegetable garden that you planned on starting. Since it wasn’t enough to reach the birdhouse, you stuck another crate on top of it. The construction swayed a little, but you braced yourself against the tree trunk and reached your hand up to knock on the small wooden house.

“Your nuts won’t fit in there with you!” You called, though it was doubtful the squirrel would understand you.

The crates wobbled, but before you had a chance to stabilize yourself with both hands on the tree two strong hands gripped your hips and easily lifted you up.

“And what do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?” Steve’s steady voice calmed your initial panic.

You melted into his embrace as he set you down on your feet on the ground and spun around to face him. Your immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, straining on your tiptoes to greet him with a kiss.

He’s been gone for nearly two days - his usual shift stretching longer due to a crisis his team had to react to in the higher parts of the mountains.

“Steve.” You breathlessly whispered his name, smile stretching on your lips.

So close to the way you looked and sounded when he woke you up with his mouth between your thighs.

“You’re back.” You pecked his lips once again then grinned. “Just in time for eviction.”

“Eviction?” Steve’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“A squirrel locked herself inside the birdhouse. We need to chase her away. For her own good.” You pointed up at the tree where few weeks ago Steve installed the birdhouse.

With a shake of his head and an overly dramatic sigh, Steve went to his truck to get his backpack with the climbing gear. He put the crates away - sending you a warning glare for coming up with a dangerous idea of putting your safety on top of them - then tied a rope around the tree to have a leverage for climbing. He reached the birdhouse exceptionally quickly.

Once he brought it down, you opened the front panel and shooed the squirrel away. It looked at you indignantly, holding a nut in its tiny paws, then scrambled away onto another tree near your house.

“I see you got into serious animal real estate business, even though you only got back home yourself.” Steve chuckled, pointing at your small backpack and the camera placed a few feet away.

“I went to the valley to take some shots of the early crocuses.” You beamed, picking up your things.

“But!” You kept close to Steve as you both walked up the porch and into the house. “I prepared a stew earlier and some garlic bread slices that are ready to pop into the oven.”

“Wow. You’re organized like a proper housewife.” Steve snickered, patting your ass.

“Yeah?” You glanced at him over your shoulder, waggling your eyebrows comically. “You gonna keep me barefoot and pregnant?”

“We can have that arranged.” Steve wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to him. He kicked the door shut behind you and dropped his backpack to the floor.

“Ah-ah!” You quickly slipped away from his grasp.

You turned around with a grin, mischievous sparks lighting your eyes. You lifted the camera and clutched it protectively to your chest.

“Gotta put the fragile goods into safety first, before you go all patriarchal on me.”

“You’ll never forgive me that vase, won’t you?” Steve hung his head in shame, but he couldn’t suppress the proud smirk on his face.

The pretty, pink glass vase became a collateral damage when the two of you resolved a minor argument with hot, angry sex.

Steve bent you over the table and fucked you so hard that your hands flailed helplessly around and you knocked the vase off the table. As the glass shattered all over the floor, you gushed around Steve’s cock with a scream that surely carried through the mountain range.

“That orgasm was worth the sacrifice.” You laughed, disappearing into the bedroom.

“But my camera is too precious to risk it!” The cottage you and Steve were living in wasn’t tiny, but small enough that your voice easily reached other parts of the house if you raised your volume a bit.

“Duly noted!” Steve called back.

He walked into the kitchen where the faint smell of stew lingered in the air. He sat down on one of the chairs and bent down to unlace his shoes, smiling to himself as he thought of you cooking and dancing around the kitchen.

You were quite messy when you cooked, even worse when you baked. But there was no hotter sight than you naked on your knees on the tiled floor, with smears of flour on your face and then his cum dribbling down your chin.

Suddenly, provoked by your recent words, an image of you walking around the kitchen pregnant flashed through Steve’s head.

He saw you glowing and round, cutting strawberries with a smile as he whisked the batter for pancakes. You’d snack on the strawberries, claiming to be hungry and impatient to wait for breakfast. He’d take the fruit from you with a laugh, lick the sticky juice off your fingers. Then go on his knees to pleasure you until you can’t stand upright anymore.

He imagined you bent over the sink, hands in soapy water from washing dishes, as he fucked you slowly from behind - unable to keep his hands away from your pregnant belly, needing to take you as soon as he comes home from his shift.

He easily pictured you carrying a toddler on your hip, bouncing the kid lightly as you walk barefoot around the house, the swell of your belly growing with another baby.

You’d take the kids to the meadows, play with them and take stunning photographs of the nature and of the kids exploring its beauty. You’d chase away squirrels and tend to your vegetable garden - happiness radiating off your faces. You’d cook meals and try new baking recipes, and you all would eat together.

And later in the evening, when he puts the oldest kid to bed and you nurse the newborn baby to sleep, he’d take you again.

Fill you full through your needy cries, letting the nature take its course with your body as well.

Steve was so deep in this unexpected rush of craving he didn’t hear your soft footsteps at first. Only when you called his name upon entering the kitchen did he look up.

There you were - feet bare on the floor, your pants replaced with soft, cotton pajama shorts, and in his t-shirt which you liked to wear around the house.

All that was missing from the fantasy was your pregnant belly stretching the fabric of the tee.

Steve crooked a finger at you, wordlessly calling you over.

You noticed the heat in his gaze, how wider his pupils got and that his lips were slightly parted on a quickened breath. It was a look signaling some mindblowing pleasure coming your way, though you weren’t exactly sure what caused it at the moment.

You walked over, straddling Steve’s lap and placing your hands on his shoulders. His palms spread over your ass, fingers kneading your flesh and forcing you to rock against him.

Against his undoubtedly growing, impressive erection.

“I feel that you’re really happy to see me.” You grinned at Steve, but couldn’t help yourself from rubbing against him.

“Always.” Steve muttered and kissed you.

His lips were soft, but the way he used them was anything but gentle. He took possession of your mouth, tongue slipping between your parted lips to tease a moan out of your throat.

Your fingers weaved into his hair, fingernails scratching his scalp and causing Steve to purr.

He gave your asscheek a smack. Not exactly painful, but firm enough to elicit a squeak out of you and have you buck against him.

“I want to fuck you bare.” Steve growled, hips pushing up into you.

“Wha-” your mouth was still chasing his lips, your mind not yet fully catching up with his request.

Steve gave your ass another slap and tilted his head back, so your gaze focused on his eyes and what he was saying.

“I want to fuck you bare.” He repeated, his voice low and raspy with dark need.

“I want to fill you up and breed you.”

You shivered at his words. Your nipples tightened into hard peaks and your clit throbbed.

“You’re serious.” Your voice came out breathless, your throat suddenly dry.

Steve and you talked about having kids before, but it was all vague; nothing beyond agreeing that you wanted to build a family together, sometime. In the far future.

Since it was a unspecified future and your health didn’t allow for you to take pills or hormonal shots, Steve always had a strip of condoms at hand. Even in the spur of the moment quickies on your hikes, he always sheathed himself. You never took him bare.

Never felt him fill your pussy with his cum.

“What’s that thought, sweetheart?” Steve leaned forward and nipped your bottom lip when you let out an involuntary moan at the thought of being full of him.

“We’ve never done it bare.” You rubbed your heated core over his clothed cock. “I only had your cum in my mouth, or on my body.”

Corner of Steve’s mouth tilted in a smirk. He slid one of his hands to grip the back of your neck as he licked a wide stripe from your throat over your chin and up to your lips.

“I promise to still let you play with my cum from time to time, doll.” He kissed you again.

With your big eyes full of wonder, you always liked him to paint your body with white streaks of his spent. You stuck your little tongue out, swallowed him greedily, and scooped up every drop from your skin.

“But from now on, we’ll mostly fill your sweet cunt with it.”

You felt his dick twitch beneath you as he said those words. You felt your own panties and shorts dampen with your growing slick.

“What do you say, sweetheart?” Steve nudged the tip of your nose with his affectionately. “Want to get pregnant?”

“Pregnant and barefoot?” You huffed a breathy laugh, realizing it was your own words from earlier today that spurred Steve’s desire.

“Well, some days are really cold out here, so I think we can skip the barefoot part.” He smiled against your lips. “But we’re definitely doing the pregnant part.”

You were constantly grinding against him, your breasts pressed and rubbed against Steve’s chest. Growing heat consumed you and you wanted, needed, Steve to sate the fire he ignited. You felt as if your body wouldn’t calm down until he spilled inside you, like he promised.

“Yes!” You captured Steve’s mouth, clinging to him even closer.

“Yes, Steve!” You head fell back as he kissed and bit down your throat. “Fuck a baby into me!”

In rushed moves, surprisingly efficient considering how both of you were trembling with impatience, you undid Steve’s pants and took him into your hand. He pushed your shorts and panties to the side.

You both moaned as you slid down his cock. The feel of his hot flesh without the latex cover made your toes curl.

It was quick and brutal, really; your thighs burned as you bounced up and down on his length. A tearing sound, as Steve yanked on your t-shirt, didn’t falter your pace.

Your climax came as dizzying, filling the house with your scream and Steve’s loud groan following soon after.

Nothing but the pounding of your hearts and heavy breathing, as you sat tangled and spent. A little mewl of surprise bubbled on your lips when you felt Steve’s cock twitching and spurting more of hot come inside your fluttering walls.

It was hotter and wetter than how it felt ever before; and the thought of Steve’s cum filling up through your cervix made your pussy clench around him.

When you slid off him a while later, a thick dollop of cum dribbled out of you. Steve put your panties back in place, cotton quickly filling and staining with the mixture of juices.

“That won’t do.” Steve frowned, as he pulled the waistband of your panties and glanced at the mess between your swollen folds.

“You’re dripping it all over and it has to take.”

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant - your brain fuzzy from the aftershocks and bliss - Steve picked you up.

He carried you to the bedroom and dropped you onto the bed. He got his t-shirt over his head in a split of a second, then moved your pliant body around, getting rid of all of your clothes as well.

“Stay here.” He pointed at you and walked out of the bedroom.

You did enjoy the view of his naked ass moving. As well the way muscles in his back flexed.

When Steve returned, he had three climbing ropes in his hands.

“What are you planning mister rescuer?” You arched a brow.

He merely winked at you, joining you on the bed and straddling you. He weaved the blue cord around your wrists, binding them to the headboard. One of the red ropes tied around your left ankle; the other around the right.

You expected Steve to tie your legs to the foot of the bed, but instead he bent your legs at the knees and pushed them up toward your chest and slightly to the sides. The ends of the rope he tied to the headboard as well.

Once he was done, your breath was quickened again, as your vulnerable exposed position registered.

“Now,” Steve knelt back and ran a finger up your ass, “all my cum will stay nicely snug in your pussy.”

He scooped whatever dribbled out of you and pushed it back into your quivering cunt. He was right. In this improvised bondage version of a mating press, your hips were tilted up enough for the gravity to work in favor of impregnation.

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve looked at you, love and desire shining in his eyes.

From your gorgeous face, hair sticking to your sweaty skin; your breasts shaking with each breath and your lovely legs strained and bound; to your gorgeous ass and glistening, swollen folds.

A thick trickle of his cum lingered just below your leaking hole. He moved his hand slowly up your ass, reaching up to push that one drop back inside you.

“I wish I could preserve this image forever.” He murmured.

Then paused.

Slowly, Steve’s gaze shifted from your pussy to your face. His eyes darkened and a naughty, evil really, smirk curved his mouth.

“What are you thinking, Steve?” You asked warily, partly scared of his wicked idea and partly excited.

Steve got off the bed, but returned rather quickly.

With your camera in his hands.

“You can’t be serious.” You squeaked, squirming against your bonds. But they were fucking secured top notch, you were unable to even pull your legs closer together.

“Why not?” Fingers of his left hand returned to your heated skin while he held the camera in his right hand. “You take photographs of nature. What’s more natural than this?”

He traced one of your swollen folds and pulled it slightly to the side, exposing your hole and the white cream filling it.

A shutter clicked. First photo of your pussy saved on the memory card.

Steve took a few more photos, from different angles. Some close-ups of his cum, some a wider perspective including your stretched body visible between your spread legs.

He moved closer, kneeling up and positioning his hardened cock between your sopping folds.

He moaned as he watched his dick slide back and forth; looked up at your face and held your gaze when you whimpered as the head of his cock bumped against your swollen clit repeatedly.

“What’s more natural than a pretty cunt serving its purpose?” Steve rasped out, guiding the tip into your opening.

He angled the camera again, snapping a picture of your pussy opening up for him. Then a series of photos as he slowly pushed inside.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re taking me so good.” Steve bit down on his lip as he thrust deeper. “Such a fucking beautiful sight.”

He flipped the camera function to video, recording as he buried himself in your wet cunt. Your wrecked moan at the stretch, too. And the squelching sound of a filled pussy.

Steve’s free hand rested on your mound, thumb drawing the hood over your clit up and then resting on the hardened nub. Your hips bucked when he started rubbing.

He tilted the camera up, making sure to register all of your body before focusing on your face. You whined his name aloud.

When you noticed the camera pointed at you, you closed your eyes and turned your head to the side embarrassed.

“Don’t be shy on me, sweetheart.” Steve cooed, maintaining a steady pace. “You’re stunning. Absolutely fucking gorgeous. And your pretty, little pussy-”

He returned the lens between your spread thighs, recording every detail of his cock driving into you.

His dick shined with your juices and remnants of his cum. Your folds were puffed and darkened, and your clit crushed under his big thumb. Your wetness smeared around, glistening on your ass and thighs, as well shimmering on the hair above Steve’s cock.

“She’s swallowing me, doll. Greedy, little pussy.” Steve growled, picking up his rhythm.

“What she’s hungry for, sweetheart? Huh?” Though his hand was shaking slightly, he managed to move the camera so it was recording your face again.

“Tell me, what she’s hungry for?” He delivered a firm smack atop your clit that made you squeak and clench around him.

“It’s hungry for your cum!” You cried out.

You felt the heat engulf you whole, felt it almost burn the skin off your cheeks from the inside.

Steve always had a penchant for dirty talk, but it wasn’t always as nasty. Just a few lines here and there. Something about fucking you bare, trying to knock you up, made him wilder. And he forced you to interact along with him.

“Wants to be filled?” Steve’s raspy voice prompted again, another slap stinging your clit.

“It wants to be filled so bad!” Your need overcame the embarrassment.

With your eyes still closed, you babbled all the filth you were shy to admit, but everything you knew Steve wanted to hear.

“Wants you to fuck it hard and come inside. Please, Steve. Need you- Need you to make me take it! Fill my belly and make it swell!”

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Steve nearly came at the sputter of your dirty words. “My sweet, fucking, dirty girl.”

He put the camera down on the side of the bed. He didn’t bother to switch it off.

It recorded a slightly blurred angle of Steve’s hips driving into you, his balls slapping against your butt as he leaned fully on top of you and bottomed out.

It recorded the sounds of your bodies - wet squelching, skin slapping, Steve’s heavy groans and your high pitched cries; and filthy demands.

“I know you’re close, sweetheart.” Steve stretched himself over you and propped his weight on his forearms on both sides of your head.

“I am! I am, I’m so close, Steve!”

Your body wanted to move along with his, to rock up into him and touch him, but your tied limbs prevented you from doing so. You could only lay there and take whatever Steve gave you. However he gave it.

“I’ll get you there, I promise.” He nipped along your jaw, lavishing each sting with a lick of his tongue. “First, though-” he paused to kiss you fully.

A surprisingly thorough kiss, considering how frantically his hips were pumping you.

Steve’s voice turned into a low, gravelly growl.

“Tell me your purpose, my sweet fuck doll.”

So close to the edge that your toes were curling, you weren’t resilient enough to fight for more dignity. You knew what hot, humiliating words Steve fished for.

And you knew you could scream them out, because once he untied you and you left the bedroom, Steve would respect you like he always did. He would worship the ground you walk on and cherish you. Give you the stars, if he could.

“My p-purpose-” your voice choked on a moan as Steve angled his hips, driving his cock into that spongy, oversensitive spot inside you.

With a whine you dropped your gaze down, unable to look right into Steve’s eyes as you cried out the words.

“To be bred! Fuuuuck. To be bred and have your babies! Be y-your, ah, little housewife. To serve you, serv- Fuck! Steve!”

“I got you, sweetheart.” Steve groaned, leaning his forehead against yours.

He slowed his pace, but each snap of his hips drove his cock into you deep and rough. Skilled, coarse fingers maneuvered between your bodies, finding your clit.

A few strokes over your nub combined with the incessant pounding into your sweet spot were enough to push you over the edge.

You clenched your hands around the ropes that tied your wrists to the headboard as you shattered. Steve’s choked, low moans lost in the sound of your keening, as he came right after you.

Steve dragged his lips across your cheek toward your lips. Kissed you slowly, and wet. Your ragged breaths mingled, a string of saliva stretching between your mouths and popping.

He remained buried inside you, his cock twitching and spurting more cum into your clenching channel.

“I fucking love you.” Steve breathed heavily, a huff of chuckle at the end of his confession.

“Mhmm. I love you, too.” You opened your eyes halfway. “You perv.”

You both laughed, a quiet, intimate sound between lovers that knew each other to the tiniest bone.

With a displeased groan, Steve pushed himself up. He was careful as he sat back, not wanting to slip out of your pussy too quickly.

His gaze focused on your joined bodies as he withdrew inch by inch. His cock glistened with thick cream; your walls fluttered at the friction. He admired your open hole for a moment then squeezed your puffed folds between his fingers.

“Gotta keep it in, sweetheart.” Steve tugged on your folds lightly, keeping them pinched between his fingers.

“I could make you come again. Help your pussy swallow more of it into your womb.” His eyes, still hazy with desire, drifted back to your face.

You groaned. Your cunt clenched at the mere idea of another orgasm shattering your body.

“How about we leave it as it is for now?” You wiggled your butt as much as you could in your restraints. “You can do more nasty things to me in the upcoming days.”

Because you knew if you allowed Steve to make you come again now, he’d use his mouth. And if he used his mouth, he would switch into the overstimulation mindset - he always did that when he went down on you.

You were plenty ruined today without that.

“As you wish.” Steve sighed, with exaggerated disappointment.

“But I’m keeping your legs tied up for a bit longer.” He announced, releasing your folds and patting them less than gently.

You squeaked and glared at him, but it only made him grin.

“Better untie my hands.” You said, making a comically frowny face. “So I can call for the mountain rescuing service to save me from a brutal bear’s captivity.”

Steve laughed and plopped down on his ass, then stretched himself on the bed crosswise. He reached for the camera and finally turned recording off.

He did switch to a browsing mode, though.

“Stop working yourself up again!” You reprimanded him when you realized why Steve moaned suddenly. “Untie me and bring me food.”

“Isn’t it your purpose to serve me food, little housewife?” Steve propped himself on his elbows and looked at you with a cheeky grin.

“Can’t do that while I’m bound.” You smiled sweetly.

Steve moved up and leaned over you, untying the ropes around your hands in two swift moves. He rubbed the skin on your wrists then placed a soft kiss on each.

“Hmm, brutal bear has to think of ways to keep you full and still able to do your housewife duties.” He winked at you.

“Yes, yes, can you think of that while we’re eating?” You rolled your eyes.

As on cue, your stomach rumbled.

“You stew here.” Steve moved down your body and kissed your abdomen, then hopped off the bed. “I’ll reheat everything. Want some wine, too?”

Slipping his pants back on, Steve left the bedroom. And you inside it.

With your legs still up and spread, your hips tilted up and cum brewing in your cunt.

“Are you fucking serious?!” You yelled after him.

His response was an impudent snicker.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #chris evans smut #mountain rescuer steve rogers #mountain rescuer steve rogers x reader #steve fic: nature's beauty

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lovelyney · 5 months

Text

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯DATING THEM !! FONTAINE GUYS⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

CHARACTERS: freminet, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley.

SCENT: headcanons

WARNINGS: mentions of nsfw on everyone’s but freminet’s.

FLORIST’S NOTE: wow !! took me long enough ☹️ im so sorry for the wait pookies. also how are we liking this new layout for these ?? ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯2023 !! #©LOVELYNEY

꒱₊˚ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓 !! 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐓𝐒

𖠵𝟎𝟎: SWEET BABY BOY FREMINET I LOVE HIM SM.

𖠵𝟎𝟏: As we know, Freminet's quite shy; he doesn't have much experience with romance, but he tries his best !!

𖠵𝟎𝟐: He wouldn’t hear the end of it from Lyney when he first started crushing on you. . . He kept on asking and asking when he was going to confess.

𖠵𝟎𝟑: Doesn’t like going out very much, but if it’s at the expense of your happiness and being with you, he’ll try and push through.

𖠵𝟎𝟒: Bought you a handmade plush of Pers since you always like to cuddle the robotic one while he’s away.

𖠵𝟎𝟓: Loves whenever he sees you wearing his clothes. he’d probably give you his entire closet if he could.

𖠵𝟎𝟔: Has a bunch of pictures of you and him that he keeps hidden in his dressers.

keeps one on him for good luck !!

𖠵𝟎𝟕: I honestly can’t tell if he’d give you a pet name ?? It’d probably be something like “nestling,” “my love,” and “baby/bébé.” (/ Meaning he uses both the English and French ver.)

❝H—Hey bébé. . . If you aren't too busy, would-would you maybe want to accompany me to brother’s magic show tonight ?? I-I could really use your company and I know we haven't been a date in a while. . .❞

𖠵𝟎𝟖: Crafts you all kinds of trickets🫶🫶

𖠵𝟎𝟗: Brings you the prettiest stones and little things that he finds when he goes deep-diving.

𖠵𝟏𝟎: Lyney “adopted” you into the family the moment you and Fremi started dating.

𖠵𝟏𝟏: He cringes whenever Lyney calls him a nickname, but he melts when you do it.

𖠵𝟏𝟐: Isn’t a big fan of PDA (he’ll obvi hold your hand) but in the confines of his room, he’ll cling to you.

𖠵𝟏𝟑: Will sometimes get pouty when you’re cuddled up to Pers and not him.

𖠵𝟏𝟒: Doesn’t get jealous like at all, he’ll just get annoyed and nervous at most.

𖠵𝟏𝟓: Didn’t pay much attention to his appearance initially, but ever since you started lovingly thumbing, kissing, and counting his freckles, it’s become his favorite thing about himself.

𖠵𝟏𝟔: I can imagine him liking his hair played with.

𖠵𝟏𝟕: Silently protective over you, you know ?? Like he’ll squeeze your hand if he senses someone you’re around is dangerous or unnerving. Or if he wants to leave and doesn’t want interrupt your conversation.

𖠵𝟏𝟖: Strangely warm !! He isn’t sure why you enjoy hugging him so much, but never complains, hehe.

𖠵𝟏𝟗: Likes to be both the big and little spoon !! If a day comes where he’s just exceptionally tired, he’ll want to be the little spoon. But if he wants to feel like the bigger person or you need comforting, he’ll be the big spoon.

꒱₊˚ 𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘 !! 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀

𖠵𝟎𝟎: I’M 1000% COMPLETELY NORMAL ABOUT THIS MAN, I PROMISE 🤐🤐🙏🙏

𖠵𝟎𝟏: Lyney, as we know him, is very incredibly playful and can be very charming !! He uses this to his advantage.

𖠵𝟎𝟐: Was obsessed with you before you started dating and is still obsessed with you now 😭

𖠵𝟎𝟑: The complete opposite of Freminet. He will not shut up about you to his siblings. . . (Sometimes he might mention you to “father.”)

𖠵𝟎𝟒: Wants nothing but for you to be safe and protected. (Bonus points if it’s in his arms.)

𖠵𝟎𝟓: Going back to the Knave, Lyney might share the relationship you two have with her but won’t give any explicit details about who you are as a means to protect you.

𖠵𝟎𝟔: “Darling,” “gorgeous,” “lovebug/bug,” “my (love)/mi (amour),” “my sweet,” and “sweetheart/chérie.”

❝Thank you so much for coming to today’s show, my love! It always fills me with so much energy seeing you in the seats, staring up at me. . . I ought to put together a show just for you, hm? How does this Friday sound?❞

𖠵𝟎𝟕: Loves to tease you !!

𖠵𝟎𝟖: Does not like waking up in the mornings, especially when you’re lying in bed with him.

loves to hide his face in your neck whenever he’s lying with you.

𖠵𝟎𝟗: Loves PDA. He cannot give a single fuck if you guys are in public. If anything, he’s proud to show his love for you to everyone.

𖠵𝟏𝟎: Can sometimes be unintentionally flirty with other people without realizing it. Don’t get it twisted, though; he’s incredibly loyal to you.

𖠵𝟏𝟏: Many people (of all genders) find him very charming, and as much as that might sting you, Lyney always finds a way to bring you into the conversation to dismiss their advances.

𖠵𝟏𝟐: Can be a little feisty sometimes. Examples are: biting your lower lip when he’s kissing you, biting your ear and nibbling on your neck in public, and placing his hand dangerously close to your thigh.

𖠵𝟏𝟑: Uses incredibly cheesy pickup lines and one-liners.

𖠵𝟏𝟒: If someone is continuously making advances towards you, then he’ll get jealous.

he’ll walk over to you, put a hand on your waist and act overly affectionate towards you hoping it’ll drive the person away.

𖠵𝟏𝟓: Seems innocent (enough), but if he sees you’re upset by someone’s actions, he’ll flip that fatui switch on immediately just to see you smile again.

sometimes asks Lynette and/or Freminet to comfort you while he’s taking care of the person.

𖠵𝟏𝟔: Surprises you by showing up in the most unexpected places in your house.

𖠵𝟏𝟕: Hates being away from you for long ): That’s the main reason why he hates arguments between you two.

𖠵𝟏𝟖: (↑) Although he lowkey can be petty sometimes. . .

𖠵𝟏𝟗: His hands are really soft !! Sometimes you’ll gently caress them, and he’ll literally melt on the spot.

𖠵𝟐𝟎: Also one who loves to see you in his clothes !! 𖠵𝟐𝟏: Really wants to have matching outfits with you. 🫶

𖠵𝟐𝟐: Loves whenever you dress yourself up !! He just adores seeing all sides of you.

𖠵𝟐𝟑: You have a whole bouquet of rainbow roses from the amount of times he’s randomly pulled one out and gave it to you. . .

꒱₊˚ 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 !! 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

𖠵𝟎𝟏: The most gentleman to ever gentleman, I believe ?!?!

idk man, it’s something with the dragon guys in Teyvat. . .

𖠵𝟎𝟐: I’d like to believe that when he started liking you, the Melusines caught on, because he seemed to always be lost in thought. . . 🤭

𖠵𝟎𝟑: Despite him being absolutely stunning and incredibly smart, he somehow felt like he didn’t have a chance with you. . .

the Melusines and Furina were not having any of that !! they devised a plan where she talked to you, and they talked to him. it all worked out in the end.

𖠵𝟎𝟒: Being in love with a busy man has its pros and cons, obviously; Neuvillette always tries his best to balance them out. ☹️☹️

𖠵𝟎𝟓: You guys tried to keep your relationship hidden for as long as you could with how Fontaine loves its drama. . .

and when you it got out (guess how), rumors, whispers everything spread like a wildfire. it was incredibly overwhelming for you, and he tried his best to quiet everyone down and comfort you 😞☹️ you can imagine the weather. . .

𖠵𝟎𝟔: (↑) Some people were muttering how you didn’t deserve him or weren’t “pretty enough” for him, which really pissed him off, but he had to remain civil (for the most part, lolz.)

𖠵𝟎𝟕: Your emotions have an incredible impact on him ?!?! If you start crying or if you’re sad, it’ll domino effect onto him. He loves you so much that it physically hurts him to see you distraught.

𖠵𝟎𝟖: All the Melusines adore you !! They absolutely see you as their other parental figure since you guys started dating.

𖠵𝟎𝟗: (↑) MELTS whenever he sees you interacting with kids. . .

𖠵𝟏𝟎: “Cherie/sweetheart,” “honey,” “my (dear/dearest)” and “my (love)/mi amour.”

❝I’m home, mon chéri. . . I must apologize for coming home later than usual—an issue in the case I’m looking into has presented itself and I went to personally deal with it. Hm, what was that, love? Ah, what was the ‘issue?’ Don’t worry about it, my dear. What matters is that it’s been dealt with. Now, have you had dinner yet?❞

𖠵𝟏𝟏: His trust in you runs pretty deep, so he trusts you when others are flirting with you. However, when people aren’t leaving you alone or are masking their interest behind innocent actions, he’ll get pissed.

𖠵𝟏𝟐: God forbid anyone lays their hands on you. . . Neuvillette doesn’t take people hurting you lightly at all.

𖠵𝟏𝟑: (↑) He isn’t a big fan of people touching what’s his in general, but he knows he (unfortunately) can’t have you all to himself. . .

𖠵𝟏𝟒: (↑) Safe to say, he’s quite territorial. . . He is a dragon, after all. They are quite protective over their treasure..

𖠵𝟏𝟓: Wrio likes to bring you up in conversations over tea !!

𖠵𝟏𝟔: This man has always been head over heels for you. Whenever you two are shopping together, he’ll follow you around like a puppy—always insisting that he holds your bags and pays.

𖠵𝟏𝟕: Pretty gentle with you. . . The farthest thing he wants is to hurt you, but sometimes his primal instincts kick in and he can’t help but want to mark what’s his !!

𖠵𝟏𝟖: Spoils the hell out of you. He literally can’t help it. He’ll see something that he’ll think you’ll like or something that reminds him of you and gets it without another thought.

𖠵𝟏𝟗: Really doesn’t like that you can tell his mood based of whether or not it’s raining. . . He hates worrying you.

𖠵𝟐𝟎: Furina loves to ask about you !! She thinks you two are so cute together.

𖠵𝟐𝟏: Loves whenever you visit him in his office while he’s working !! He’ll always try and persuade you to stay with him while he works—coaxing you to sit on his lap and such.

𖠵𝟐𝟐: He’s still relatively new to understanding human emotions, so he really appreciates you being patient and helping him out.

𖠵𝟐𝟑: Whenever you’re mad at him or giving the silent treatment, he’ll just look at you with the most saddest eyes ever. Guarantee heavy downfalls until you two make up 💔

꒱₊˚ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 !! 𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘

𖠵𝟎𝟎: Literally the almost perfect definition of my type 😭

𖠵𝟎𝟏: He’s smart, cocky, and hot. You’re in for a wild ride with this one 💔👍

𖠵𝟎𝟐: Secretly a deep-rooted hopeless romantic at heart, he just hasn’t had the time to explore that part of him because of his duties in the fortress.

𖠵𝟎𝟑: Like Neuvillette, this man is head over heels for you. It’s just that he’s better at hiding it (most times, anyway.)

𖠵𝟎𝟒: A big teaser !! He loves to get under your skin.

𖠵𝟎𝟓: Can and will protect you at any cost. He loves you so much, it’d kill him inside if something were to happen to you.

𖠵𝟎𝟔: A bit of a sadist, I think. . . He’ll watch you struggle for a bit before actually helping you with something.

𖠵𝟎𝟕: Before you two started dating, Sigewinne kept on insisting he confess to you because of how obvious it was.

Clorinde also gave him shit for it.

𖠵𝟎𝟖: “Baby/babe,” “doll,” “my (darling),” “my (dear),” “my (love/lovely),” “pretty/my boy/girl,” and “sweetheart.”

❝Oh? I wasn’t expecting you to stop by for a visit today, doll—not that I’m complaining, of course. . . Lucky for you, I just finished up all my paperwork for the day, so I’m all yours ~ Wait, what? What do you mean you’re only here to deliver more papers? Please tell me you’re joking, babe. . . Archons sake, please at least stay for tea. I haven’t seen you since this morning.❞

𖠵𝟎𝟗: Roughly smells like freshly brewed tea with a mix of his cologne—it’s a rather comforting smell, actually.

𖠵𝟏𝟎: Hates whenever you’re gone too long above ground. He gets grouchy (more so than usual) whenever he hasn’t seen you for a certain amount of time.

𖠵𝟏𝟏: Surprisingly like a sloth when you two aren’t at work. . . He loves clings to you, doesn’t matter what you’re doing or where you’re at.

𖠵𝟏𝟐: I’d like to think he doesn’t give a shit about what people normally think of him, so he’ll love you on wherever and whenever.

loves to rub his cheeks/stubble against yours despite your whining !! i’m weak

𖠵𝟏𝟑: One of his favorite things about the two of you is your size difference. He finds it adorable his hand can comfortably envelope yours and somehow perfectly fit around your throat. . .

𖠵𝟏𝟒: A waist holder !! He loves to have a hand on your waist one way or another. Whether it be him pressed against you from behind or simply just a hand on your waist while you’re standing next to each other.

𖠵𝟏𝟓: Protective and possessive !! Not too much to the point where it’s toxic, I think. He’s just very territorial, and does not like when people get too close to you. He always denies he doesn’t get jealous, but he isn’t fooling anyone.

he doesn’t want your future to repeat his past, so he tries desperately to protect you from those kinds of people.

𖠵𝟏𝟔: (↑) All for marking you in obvious places if he sees this is a frequent thing. . . He’s far from shy with it, as well.

𖠵𝟏𝟕: Always prepares an extra cup of tea for you just in case you were to stop by his office.

𖠵𝟏𝟖: Nearly suffocates you if you’re in bed facing him—he’ll smoosh your head against his chest so you don’t have a chance to leave.

𖠵𝟏𝟗: People were genuinely shocked when they found he was dating someone !! Some didn’t believe you until Wrio proved them wrong.

𖠵𝟐𝟎: Is a mixture between gentle and rough with you. . . He doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you or you know, break you.

𖠵𝟐𝟏: He claims he’d be fine if you two broke up but in reality, he’d be a complete mess. (Sigewinne knows this without a doubt.)

𖠵𝟐𝟐: (↑) Pouts whenever you spend too much time with her and not enough with him </3 He can be a literal manbaby sometimes.

𖠵𝟐𝟑: Literally doesn’t know what to do with himself whenever you ignore him or give him the silent treatment.

goes to Clorinde for help if he’s really stuck. which may or may not be proven helpful depending on her mood. . .

𖠵𝟐𝟒: Adores whenever you’re resting on top his chest !! He always says that’s where you belong, lol.

𖠵𝟐𝟓: (↑) Also likes it when you rest on his lap when he’s sorting out paperwork. He claims you “give him the energy needed to make it through the day.”

𖠵𝟐𝟔: The one for you if you have a praise kink and the one for you if you have a degrading kink !! Two birds with one stone, amirite ?? kill me

#|✿| — 𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍’𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 #|✿| — 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐖 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐒 #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x reader #freminet x reader #lyney x reader #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader

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peachsayshi · 3 months

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ domestic diaries

minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

ೃ⁀➷ notes: I saw this gif (top right image) & wrote a post about nanami getting turned on seeing his wife in an itty bitty tank, and I cannot get this out of my head. I need this man to **** ** until I'm ******* and ******. this is very self indulgent. forgive me lskjfd

ೃ⁀➷ tags: smut; masturbation; oral (f receiving); nipple play; p in v; rough sex; reader wears glasses

feb 3 - 8:31 pm

"look at how wet you are-" nanami exhales, a strand of gold kissing his forehead. the muscles of his strong stomach flexing when he unfastens the last button of his shirt. he pulls the fabric over his broad shoulders, taking in your hungry eyes roaming all over his body. rough hands instantly trail to the belt cinched around his waist. you whimper when he loosens the buckle, your fingers circle over your clit just a little faster as you watch him yank the leather band out from between the loops.

"n' you're hard..." you softly pant, licking your lips which only continues to exacerbate your husband’s madness to have you.

he palms over the prominent tent that's formed against his slacks, his length stiff from the sight of coming home to you earlier. you were innocently standing in the kitchen, wearing your black thigh high socks and a pair of shorts along with an itty bitty tank top that did nothing to cover you. midriff out, nipples prominent. your hair a mess, and your glasses resting comfortably on the bridge of your nose.

it was in that moment when the realization struck nanami. when he pondered when was the last time he taken you to bed. both of your schedules have been busy. neither of you have been in the mood for making love, too worn out from the stresses of every day life.

so, his reaction towards you shouldn't have been that much of a surprise. he just wished that he noted the dry spill that's hit your relationship a little bit earlier.

"hi, baby", you sweetly greeted with a smile, as he stood there dumfounded with admiration. "you're home late, I was worried you might miss dinner-"

nanami loosened his tie, swallowing the hard lump that formed in his throat as his skin scorched with heat. he can feel it prick the tips of his ears, singe the the highest parts of his prominent cheek bones, and burn it's way down his neck. he stalked towards you before you allowed yourself to get distracted, and circled his arms around your waist to pull you in for a kiss.

you were taken aback by the urgency, but you soon melted in his arms and found yourselves in the sanctuary of your bedroom.

nanami smiles - an angelic grin, full of reverie. you have to press your lips together to stop yourself from pathetically moaning at the gesture.

your husband doesn't make it easier by treating his exceptionally attractive self with such nonchalance. so completely clueless by the power he has over you.

he boldly stares at you, eyes falling to the peaks of your breasts, the tips furiously prominent against your tank top and begging for attention. he followed the path down the lower half your naked body, to the triangle between your legs where you were fingering yourself in anticipation. half your legs were still concealed by your thigh high socks, your glasses slowly falling down your nose.

he drops his shirt to the ground, bringing those fingers to push back that infuriating rogue strand of hair that carelessly fell. he cups your knees, his thumbs stroking your socks lovingly as he nestles himself between your legs. his jaw twitches when you spread your lips for him, your arousal strings of sweet sugar. nanami leans forward to peck you tenderly at the source of your desire, and the sound that travels out of your throat is so desperate he nearly cums on the spot.

"shit-" you curse, your hands moving to rest on your lower belly so nanami can touch you as he pleases.

he uses to fingers to spread the petals once again, before placing his tongue flat to broadly stroke up your slit. his eyes flutter close and the drawl of his hum is deep, sending a shiver up your belly. you bring one hand to the locks of his hair, massaging his scalp lightly as you keep the strands from falling over.

"haven't tasted you in a while, my love," nanami sighs. his hot, heavy breath fanning your cunt.

he dives in with no mercy, making your hips buck into his face while he fucks you with his mouth. he pays extra attention to your clit, sucking on the bud and flicking his tongue back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth...your fingers dig into his scalp, your upper body nearly off the mattress as you hold him close. when nanami slides two fingers in to stretch you out, your eyes simply vanish to the back of your head. you're so soaked by the time you orgasm, tremors shaking your clenched thighs that nearly squeezed your husband's head.

you taste yourself on your tongue when he kisses you. it's sloppy, wet. completely primal. nanami only stops to remove his slacks, rbefore eadjusting your position when he climbs on the bed.

"take your glasses off," he commands, and you oblige as you place them by your side.

he flips you over, lifting your hips and creating a lovely slope on your spine. his hands graze over the socks pinching the meat of your thighs, and he widens your stance before aligning the heavy tip of his cock to your entrance.

your words are reduced to vowels, and when your husband gradually pushes himself against your folds, you release a long cry as you grip onto the sheets for support.

"oh fuck,-" nanami purrs, before pulling back and rutting deep into you. "uh-you feel s'good, s'warm..."

"kento-" your whine out his name pornographically, which makes your husband thrust into you even harder, "kento, more...please, please, please-ah~"

your tank top rides up as your body rubs against the mattress, your sensitive nipples brushing over your cool bed sheets. he's usually so gentle when fucking you, calculative even - but not tonight. tonight, his movements are unrelenting. whenever that mushroom head hits your sweet spot it has you seeing a cluster of white stars in your eyes. the sound of skin slapping skin echoes all around you, with nanami's grunts following in harmony. he's rough when he holds your hips because he's unable to hold onto any self control, because you're sucking him in, and milking his cock.

you anticipate the soreness to come.

when you orgasm a second time, tears prick your eyes from relief - it's been so long since you've had your husband inside you that you forgot how pliable you become in the process. he's so close now too, his flow staggering as his hipsstutter, until he finally releases his full load inside you.

it takes you both a few minutes to gather yourself. you can feel your husband grow soft inside you. you turn around to face him when you finally detach. sitting upright on your knees as you circle your arms around your neck, and bring your face in front of his.

you moan into a kiss, his own hands cupping your breasts chastely, his thumbs swiping over your pebbled nipples.

he rubs his nose over yours, his lips finding your cheeks as he kisses you. "you okay, my love?" he asks, always the gentleman for checking in. "m'sorry if I was rough, I..." he sighs, stealing another kiss from your lips before whispering, "I didn't realize how long it's been..."

you sniffle, your body coming down from the rushed high. "m'okay, kento..." you dreamily reassure, your lips seeking his own for another kiss, "that felt so good..."

"yeah?" he smiles before nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth and tracing that dangerous mouth down the curve of your neck. "felt good for me too, baby..."

you're like sand between his fingers, slipping through the cracks of lust and love. nanami leaves a trail of kisses down your collar bone, moving further until his lips circle over the tip of your breast.

you hiss when he sucks on it, using his hand to cup the weight. the sensation of his thumb makes you pulse between your legs, and you gaze down to watch him slowly pull away to release the bud. his eyes stay fixated on your chest, a small string of saliva connecting from your nipple to his bottom lip. he uses his thumb to wipe it away, stroking the hardened peak.

"want to keep going?" he speaks in a hushed tone, lifting his head up and resting his chin against your chest to gauge your mood.

"yeah," you sigh, wanting nothing more to ride along this intimate dance until your bodies can no longer keep up. "yeah, let's keep going..."

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x female reader #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #nanami kento x you #jujutsu kaisen fan fiction

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beefboyandbabygirl · 10 months

Text

Titty-Shirt! (18+)

pairing: pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader

genre: theme park au??? lmao, coworkers to lovers, kinda enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, lil crack, lil angst

description: you start your new job and your mentor, jeonghan, is the biggest piece of shit you've ever met. you swear you hate him. you swear. he's just also the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

warnings: whew this requires a lot of warning, first of all a lot of DUBCON BEHAVIOR FROM JEONGHAN INITIALLY (we know she enjoys it to some extent, but he doesnt know), hes a sleazy perverted fuck, tiddie playing, tiddie sucking, tiddie fucking, fingering (f. receiving), dry humping, mirror sex, praise (f. receiving), dirty talk, FINGER SUCKING HNG, a lil degradation (f. receiving), meanie condescending jeonghan turning all soft for ur tiddies :(, V TIDDIE-CENTRIC IF U COULDNT TELL, belinda loves jeonghan, WEED LOTTA WEED, explicit depictions of smoking weed, high sex, this fic sounds rough but it actually has some really soft cute moments, im pretty sure thats it lmk if i forgot smth

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "shove ur cock down my throat treat me like the whore i am", "FUCKING STEP ON ME", "omg hes so disgusting..... im so attracted to him"

wordcount: 13.2k

a/n: the way i raced 2 finish this before im actually moving out... ALSO thinking ab making this a series? like one for each member, the theme being "unusual jobs". like not stuff youd immediately think of like coffee shop or lawyer or ceo or whatever. like. strange jobs. would u guys b on board?

“We’re so excited to have you working with us.”

She had a mole on her nose that was hard to ignore. It was big and exceptionally round - your thoughts flitted back to your dearest Discovery Channel, and how amazing it was that nature could create such perfect spheres. The thought of your couch and your blanket and your most cherished nature docs brought upon a wave of uncertainty. You could just be lying at home, you thought.

“Happy to be here,” you smiled tightly. She was your new manager and she was short and stout and had gray hair and a lovely smile and a round mole on her nose. You tried not to make it obvious you were staring at it.

You were standing in your city’s local theme park under a long path with flower archways. People, kids and parents and ninth graders, swarmed around like bees, standing at booths and in lines to old, janky, rusted roller coasters. It was summer and you were wearing the branded shirt they’d given you, slightly too small, and the matching cap. Insects buzzed past your stray hairs and you looked up at the bright blue sky.

You needed a job, you had known, and your mom had certainly known it too, so you could only lounge around after graduating for a short while, before you opted to apply. This had been your last choice. You’d tried to become some sort of lobby-worker, tried makeup stores and even regular stores. You used to make fun of the people who worked here. But now that person was you, and standing under the archways in the summer sun slathered in sunscreen, you figured you would make the best of it until the busy season was over.

“So,” your manager, Belinda, began after a brief pause of polite nods, “new employees such as yourself are required to be trained and surveyed by an existing worker for a two-week period, but after that you get to run the rides all by yourself.”

She said it like it was something to look forward to. You tried to believe that it was.

“Of course,” you said, and once again the space between you was filled with polite and exaggerated nodding. “Need to learn first before you get to be the master.”

“Exactly!” she said. Her lipstick was barbie-pink and a little overlined on the right side. She smelled faintly of gasoline. “So we’re handing you off to one of our star-employees!”

You hummed and noticed her taking a step backwards, indicating you to follow. She began walking, trudging over the cobbled paths and shuffling awkwardly in between walls of people. You followed behind. “He’s been working here for the past two years, so he knows the place in and out.”

As you walked, passing twisting, gnarly tracks with screams emanating from them and stands with oversized, China-made plushies hanging from them, you tried to imagine what a star-employee at Caratland Theme Park looked like.

It was probably someone that loved roller coasters, maybe someone like yourself, who strived for approval and perfection, maybe someone that found a certain joy in being a good service experience for guests. Someone who was good with kids?

“So you’ll be training with him for a bit before we leave you alone with the coasters, of course, but it should be no trouble, he’s a fun guy!”

You passed by a haunted house, where a group of kids psyched each other up in the queue. Dodging a tree, you finally came up on a certain blue ride where Belinda stopped and put her hands on her hips, power posing in front of the creaky, old machinery.

The Pirate Swing. That’s what it was called, and it was a big ship attached to a huge, metal pole on each side, and it was currently swooshing up and down with a large, grating sound. You cringed at it. Belinda noticed and frowned, fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Maybe we should oil that one.”

Kids and parents were lined up at the stairway leading up to it in a parade of artificial polyester colors, and on the edge of the platform where the ship was shoveling through the air, a little booth was sat. Peeking through the frankly grimy windows, you could see him. He was slumped back in a wooden chair, wearing the same shirt as you and Belinda, and wearing big, blocky, black sunglasses.

“Jeonghan!” she called, and you saw the figure jolt. He looked briefly dazed, before he snapped his head up to peer through the glass, smiling and waving. The kids in line turned to glare at you. He scrambled up from his seat clumsily and with sporadic movement, and you both watched how he hunched over the door, shaking it in its frame before it finally let open. He took one long step out the door and was finally outside, looking down at you from the platform and leaning on the railing.

“Belinda! Nice to see you,” he breathed, smiling in a way that seemed to indicate he did not find the prior sequence of events embarrassing. In fact, he seemed to think he had the upper hand - the confidence rolled off of him in waves. You grimaced.

You could see him much better now that he was outside, not broken up by the greasy glass, and whatever you had envisioned the star-employee to look like, this was not it. He was young, maybe just a little older than you, and he was thin, with long black hair that just kissed his shoulders. About half of his face was hidden away behind the frankly humongous sunglasses on his face, but he had pale pink lips and a pronounced cupid's bow, and even though you were a little skeptical of him, the cockiness in his smile was well-received.

“This is Y/n!” Belinda said (yelling to overpower the severely loud child glee), gesturing to you, and you almost felt self-conscious when he looked over at you and smiled. “She’s a new employee and you’ll be her mentor during her training period.”

“Sure thing!” he said simply. Again with the polite nods, you thought, before you felt Belinda’s hand on your shoulder. You glanced over and she squeezed.

“Good luck, Y/n! You’re in great hands!” Now that you weren’t so sure about. Had the two of you not seen the same thing?

You mumbled a thanks and she padded away, once more dodging and weaving through huge chains of people, and you squinted after her, before you turned back to Jeonghan. He was already looking at you, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Welcome to The Pirate Swing, matey! Get up here and let me show you the ropes,” he padded back to the booth, now visibly more relaxed, as his back returned in a hunch. “I should probably stop the ride,” he mumbled to himself, pressing a button on a long controlpanel with a grid of eight buttons.

You climbed up the stairs unsurely, hand smoothing over the railing as you went. At the top you squeezed in beside Jeonghan. It was a fairly small space, just big enough for the two of you to stand next to each other. Jeonghan smiled a straight smile at you, before brushing past you to let out the dizzy guests.

“Was it a good ride?!” You heard him ask distantly, while you studied the interior of the booth.

It was reeking with a sweet herbal stench, and for a moment you might’ve chalked it up to sweat and cologne, but when your gaze danced over the grid, you became aware of a small, open ziploc of weed on the countertop, crumbs of it dotted by the opening. An energy drink, most certainly warm from the sun flowing in, was perched next to it, and you saw more cans by the foot of the wooden chair (it seemed like a chair that had been dragged in from somewhere else - it was almost reminiscent of the one from your grandma’s house).

You grimaced, looking over to where Jeonghan was waving kids off and shuffling over to let in people from the queue, a big sign for checking heights in his hand. The sunglasses, of course, you thought and frowned at the room. Luckily it seemed pretty straight forward, so maybe you could escape this Jeonghan character earlier than two weeks.

“Right,” Jeonghan clapped his hands together, pushing past you again. “This is how you turn it on,” he said and pressed one long, skinny finger to a black button that read ‘dispatch’.

Sure enough, the huge metal set to work again, screeching as it lifted a boat-full of nuclear families through the air.

“You turn it off with this other one. Usually rides just stop by themselves when they reach the end, but since we got a little shitty one today it’s manual.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding along and watching when his hand danced and pointed to the set of buttons.

“That’s pretty much it!” he said, collapsing in his chair again, sunglasses sliding halfway down his nose and revealing his bloodshot eyes.

“What about the other buttons?” you ask pointedly, arms crossed.

“Don’t worry about them, sweet cheeks,” he waved you off. “They don’t do much.”

The empty cans by his chair clattered when he reached down a hand for one, toppling over and hitting the metal flooring. You scrunched your nose in disgust.

“I like your shirt,” he mumbled, nimble fingers picking up a particular empty can. It was bent on one side, little holes pricked in it - it was a makeshift bong. You scoffed at him. This was the star-employee?

“We have the same shirt,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah, but I like yours better,” he grinned lazily, can now in hand, when he leaned forward to fetch the ziploc of weed. “Nice and tight.”

“You’re gross,” you spat, brows furrowed. “This is a kid’s establishment, you know that, right?”

“Ninth graders fuck here all the time,” he shrugged. You gasped, not only because it was an extremely gross fact, but also because that was not what you were suggesting. “I’m referring to the fucking weed in your hand, jackass!”

“Woah, calm down!” He shushed you, and you might’ve genuinely scared him, because he looked around each window of the booth, light cascading down his tan skin. He was wearing a pair of shorts, and you saw his knee bounce. When he’d secured the area, he turned to you with a hiss: “That’s a secret, woman! You can’t just throw words like that around.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t smoke here!” You snapped, but Jeonghan was doing exactly the opposite. Ducking down so it wasn’t totally visible from the windows, he’d placed a little nugget of weed on the grate, and was now setting it alight with Transformers-print lighter.

“This is your first day, right? Trust, you’re gonna end up being high on the job too,” he ended his sentence by placing his lips around the mouth of the can, sucking in smoke.

“That’s such a safety hazard,” you murmured, looking down at him from where you stood. He pulled away, smoke still in his mouth and you saw a twinkle in his eyes from above his falling sunglasses. Then he lunged forward and blew it into your face, a concentrated stream of weed smoke bouncing off your shiny cheeks. “Hey!”

You sputtered and spat, shoulders tense and straining against the fabric of your shirt. Jeonghan settled back down in his chair, legs spread.

“The kids love me! With or without weed!” he said, voice a little groggy from the smoke. You coughed, discontent.

“Maybe they love you because you get them contact-high,” you mumbled under your breath. Jeonghan grinned at that.

Suddenly he leaned back in his chair to study you, one hand on the can, the other taking off his sunglasses. He stared up at you with fire-red eyes and soft, long hair and a bemused grin on his lips. Seeing his full face, you gulped under his intense gaze. He was really pretty. Annoying. More annoying than pretty. But still.

Distantly, kids screamed and a constant buzz of countless conversations overlapped in each inch of the park. Jeonghan reached out a finger and poked your jean-clad hip once.

“You’re funny,” was all he said, something resembling curiosity in his eyes. “Yeah. Funny girl with the tight shirt.”

You were going to retaliate (they truly had run out of your size and had opted for this as a temporary option, it wasn’t your fault!), but Jeonghan coughed suddenly, eyebrows furrowing as he sat back up in his seat.

“Oh shit, should probably stop the ride now.” _____________________________

You thought about quitting.

You could honestly say that Jeonghan made you think about quitting, and maybe you would even have brought the plan into action, had it not been for the fact that you had been rejected from just about every other job that you’d applied to. It seemed you were stuck.

You showed up the next day in your shirt and it felt even tighter than the day prior, and the cap tightened around your scalp like you were a toy in a claw machine.

Fortunately for you, the park seemed much less crowded today. It was a Wednesday, parents were still working and apparently no one sought out the thrill of scary, old, decaying rides on such afternoons. You admired how much lovelier it was when it was still, as you walked up to The Pirate Swing.

“Hey, titty-shirt!”

The loveliness was ruined.

Jeongan was standing on the railing with someone else you didn’t recognize, long, black hair swaying out from the rim of his cap. He waved enthusiastically, watching your form slump at his words.

“Hey, Jeonghan,” you muttered, approaching the steps. The boy beside him looked mildly uncomfortable at the interaction.

“It’s a good thing you’re here, N/n - can I call you N/n?” he didn’t let you answer, simply continued talking like a telemarketer. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here. Me and my buddy, Junhui, from the Beetle Bug ride were just discussing something that I think is extremely valuable to learn about this place!”

“Are you gonna teach me about the rest of the buttons?” you drawled, eyes half closed in feigned boredom (as much as you disliked him, it certainly wasn’t boring).

“No!” Jeonghan snapped his fingers at you. You noticed he had this way of smiling, that irked you. It was void of sincerity and was instead wolfish and teasing, something genuinely animalistic and mean-spirited. It was distasteful.

“On days like these-” he hovers and outstretched hand to gesture to the mostly bare land of the theme park, “- you can steal food from the restaurants.”

After just one eight hour shift with Jeonghan, you find yourself not even remotely surprised at this. You cross your arms over your chest (Jeonghan’s eyes briefly flick down to them, and you think you might actually hate him): “I have a packed lunch.”

“Packed lunches are for geeks and nerds,” he said, unbothered. “You can come along if you want to get some delicious, warm pizza, or you can stay here like a loser and explain to every kid that comes by, that you’re not allowed to give them a ride on the coaster and watch them cry until you get fired. Your choice, babe.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snarled. Jeonghan shrugged with puckered lips and the Beatle Bug guy - Junhui - scrunched his face in disgust at the two of you.

“Not gonna lie, I’m gonna go find Seungkwan,” he said, not even attempting to hide his dismay for your dynamic. He brushed past you on the stairs, hands buried in his pockets. “If you guys fuck, do it in the bathroom Chan uses!” he yelled, trudging past the pillars that held up the haunted house.

“Sure thing, Jun!” Jeonghan smiled, and you could punch him. Again that animalistic, joyful, laughing-at-you-not-laughing-with-you smile.

“What if I snitch on you?” you asked, hoping it would knock some sort of sense into him, but he only shrugged.

“Belinda loves me. Whenever she works on Valentine’s day, she cries in her office and I let her rant about her shitty boyfriends,” the visual was somehow not hard to imagine. Belinda in her office chair (you’d seen it once, and all you could say was the interior looked like something from a log cabin) and Jeonghan, 19, feeding into everything she said. “You can say what you want, but she’ll just fire you for making up rumors.”

Your brows furrowed. “That’s so concerning.”

“Nothing about this place works right,” he admitted and it was maybe the only time you’d sensed an ounce of truth in his words. “So, are you coming?”

You hesitated. You really were working up a real distaste for Jeonghan, but talking to spoiled, crying kids seemed worse than anything else at the moment. You decided you could live through Jeonghan’s lewd comments and maybe make friends with some other park workers.

“Okay.”

“I knew you loved me,” he teased, and then grabbed your wrist from the top of the steps, bouncing down and pulling you along with him. “Hey!” you yelped, but Jeonghan was, as always, unbothered.

He pulled you by a narrow walkway into the toilets, passing by a single, confused family, as you stumbled behind him. There was a fountain with a hen figurine on top, which he steered around, your arm jerking limply, as he went down a flower-walkway.

“You do this often?” you remarked, out of breath from jogging to match his strides.

“Oh yeah. Mingyu works there and he’s like 16, he lets me do anything,” Jeonghan giggled evilly, glancing over his shoulder once, and you gulped, and hated the way his eyes were so big and pretty, and the way his hair blowed softly along carvings of his cheeks.

“It’s great that you have so many people here to enable your bad habits,” you said. Whatever sarcasm you portrayed in your tone, Jeonghan ignored it, still smiling when he said: “Right?”

When you stopped you were standing on the backside of a blocky building - one of the many offers of food you provided, prices marked up to drain the suburbs of their cash. You felt something underfoot, and looked down on the gravelly, rustic pavement, only to see circa 20 cigarettes jammed in between the rocks. You scrunched your nose.

“What? You don’t like cigs?” you looked up at Jeonghan’s voice, to see him grinning cheekily at you. His eyes sparkled and for maybe just a second it was kind of attractive.

“I don’t..” you broke off eye contact. “I don’t mind, it’s just.. Is everyone here like you?”

“Sweetheart,” he tutted, and you nearly flinched at the feeling of his long fingers tapping your cheek, cool on the warming skin. You looked back up at him and he had tilted his head to the side. Why was he being attractive? Why were you finding him attractive? “There’s no one like me.”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan pushed open the backdoor, the heat of the kitchen simmering out in one brief wind, before it slammed shut behind him, and you were left, alone and dumbfounded on the stones in a mountain of cigs.

Then you scoffed.

You stood for a moment, letting the fresh air cool the inevitable warmth on your cheeks, huffing (because you were annoyed, you told yourself, not because he had just done something terribly, horribly attractive!) and puffing with your arms crossed over your too-tight-shirt.

Then you pushed open the door and stepped inside the tiled kitchen.

The room was filled with steam and it smelled like canned marinara sauce and fake cheese and most of all it was unbearably hot - so hot and humid, you felt the particles of water sitting on the fabric of your shirt. There was a decidedly oversize pot simmering with sauce on a stovetop, and on a hotplate three untouched pizzas sat; one with potato-topping, one pepperoni and one margarita.

A very tall boy was running frantically around the kitchen, three different kitchen utensils in his clenched fist like claws. Sweat was dripping down the side of his frowning face and red speckled his shiny cheeks. Jeonghan draped himself against the counter lazily.

“It’s just me today,” the boy, Mingyu, cried, “Thomas sent home the other two because there’s no one in the park, but I can’t do this alone!”

“Seems real stressful, Gyu,” Jeonghan mumbled, leaning on his hand.

“Yeah, so if you aren’t too busy, maybe you could stir the marinar-”

“That’s really great, man. You’re doing God’s work. But hey, we’re just gonna-” While Mingyu’s back was turned, the tall boy hunched over the sauce, Jeonghan limply pushed the pepperoni pizza to the edge of the hotplate with a pair of tongs. He winked at you, scooping the pizza into his open palm. “We’re just gonna head out now.”

“Jeonghan, please help me out and don’t-”

Mingyu turned around and his tortured expression dropped into one of shock, his tense limbs falling limp at his sides. Jeonghan stood, hand in the cookie jar and pizza in his palm, frozen in front of him with a sort of cartoonish ‘oopsie’-face. Steam clouded the room while you watched from the doorway.

Mingyu’s eyes narrowed and when he spoke again, his voice was lowered in warning: “Jeonghan. We’ve talked about this. Put. The pizza. Down.”

There was a moment of indifferent silence. Jeonghan contemplated.

Then he nodded, lips pursed and eyes cast down to the pizza.

“You know… I would.. But. Y/N, OPEN THE DOOR OR KNOCK HIM OUT!”

“WHAT?”

“OPEN THE DOOR.”

You did. Apparently Mingyu hadn’t seen you, because he jumped at your voice behind him, body twisting to see you just in time for you to open the door and Jeonghan came scrambling out of it like a rat. You cannot believe you just aided this man’s crimes, you think, Mingyu’s expression of horror forever imprinted in your retina, before you followed suit.

However bad Mingyu’s puppy expression made you feel, the rush of adrenaline as you bolted down the pavement under row after row of flowers and sunbeams brought forth something sinister and mean that had you giggling at your evil-doing. Jeonghan was laughing as well, and his genuine laugh was bright and bubbly and very unlike him.

Mingyu sprung open the door behind you, yelling over your shoulders: “HOODLUMS! THIEVES! YOU’RE LUCKY I CAN’T LEAVE THIS SAUCE.”

This made the both of you laugh even harder, disappearing behind another building, leading up to the chicken-fountain. You caught up to him, still holding the pizza in his open palms, now sweating and panting in between bright, heart-thrumming giggles.

“I thought-” you panted, bending at your knees and warding away the image of the betrayed Mingyu. “I thought you said he let you do whatever he wanted.”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan heaved, cheeks rosy and shiny, as he gently padded over to a bench with the pizza out like the plate in the hand of Oliver Twist. “That’s my bad. I forget he was 16 two years ago and has since then lost all respect for me.”

This made you laugh. This had your eyes squinting closed and a deep, ringing laugh bouncing up your ribcage and your throat and exploding into the summertime. Eyes closed, you missed the way Jeonghan’s face lit up at that.

“That made you laugh? Self-deprecation?” he asked incredulously, but somehow amazed.

“Oh,” you cried, opening your eyes and willing your laughter to calm. “I think it’s just the first time you haven’t been baselessly confident and cocky.”

“Baseless?” Jeonghan echoed, face screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“Yeah,” you nodded, face also screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“What? Am I supposed to collect, like, fuckin’ data?”

“Yeah, evidence.”

“EVIDENCE?”

You and Jeonghan went back to The Pirate Swing, splitting the pizza in the booth and every 45 minutes or so, letting guests on when they came by. He was still annoying and in all fairness he’d dragged you into his crimes against humanity. But. He was also a little funny and sweet.

And the pizza did taste better than your packed lunch. _____________________________

Two days of normal work followed.

There were too many people to really fuck around, so you and Jeonghan stayed in the booth, and you even managed to pressure him into telling you about the rest of the buttons, as well as the mechanics of the bigger machines.

Everytime Jeonghan saw you he greeted you with “Hey titty-shirt!”, equally enthusiastic each time. Everytime the clock hands read 8 PM he pulled out his weed and began smoking. Everytime he began smoking he snaked a hand on the back of your leg where you stood (still no chair!) beside him, rubbing the flesh under his palm. You shooed him away half-heartedly, then felt guilty for not meaning it. Jeonghan was a sleazy piece of shit, but his hand was warm and felt nice on your thigh. You liked to tell yourself you were just lonely or something.

“TITTY-SHIRT!”

That Saturday you came walking into work, still wearing your shirt and your cap, and was immediately alerted to the fact that something was off; Jeonghan was ecstatic.

He always had this front of joy and constant bemusement, but you’d learned to read how he yearned for his shift to end - you saw it sometimes when he gazed out of the windows of the booth, thinking you were surveying the kids. That day, he was happy. Genuinely.

“TITTY-SHIRT!” he called again, causing a family of blonde children to turn their heads in dismay. He paid them no mind, rushing down the stairs with loud, trampling steps, to meet you at the foot of the platform, before you could even settle down in the booth. He grabbed your forearms in his hands and grinned at you childishly. You couldn’t help the small, bemused smile that parted your lips.

“Great fuckin’ news,” he said, “Belinda is fucking gone. M.I.A.”

“Okay?” you grimaced, unsure of what he was getting at.

“Okay?! Do you know what this means?”

“No, not particularly,” you mumbled.

“This whole fuckin’ area,” he let go of your arms to motion vigorously to your part of the park. "Unsupervised. Unaccounted for.”

“Okay?”

“Okay?! This means we’re gonna go shoot the shit at the arcade, come on!” He threw a hand over his shoulder to gesture to the arcade area. You frowned and crossed your arms challengingly.

“Shouldn’t we go take care of our coaster?”

“Are you kidding me? If no one is working it, people just assume it’s shut down for maintenance. Come on, this only happens, like, twice a year!” He whined, stomping his worn-down Nike sneakers into the pavement and pouting at you. You hated to admit it made your facade melt like an overpriced ice-cream in the hand of a child.

“Alright, but-”

“Yes!”

Without further nonsense, Jeonghan grabbed your hand in his, and began to once more drag you through the park. As you ran behind him, you looked at your interlocked hands and thought, briefly, that it wasn’t too bad to look at. And it felt kind of good.

“What happened to Belinda?”

“God knows, I think it was something with her kids.”

“She has kids?!”

You and Jeonghan messed around at the arcade - Jeonghan miraculously had been granted the keys to the arcade by Belinda (something about her trusting him?), and unlocked the machines and you played games with already-used coins.

First was Whack-A-Mole, then the boxing game, then those motorcycle races, and then you played the basketball game.

“I’m gonna beat you!” you squealed, throwing a miniature basketball through the hoop with a small jump. You grinned in triumph when it landed right, punching the air like a dork and turning to him with victoriously glean.

Jeonghan wasn’t even played, you realized. You’d been so caught up in actually landing the ball in the hoop that you’d managed to forgo the way Jeonghan leaned against his lane, eyes half lidded and shadowed under his cap. You turned to him, now much more aware that you’d been acting like a dork.

“Uh, aren’t you gonna play?” you asked sheepishly, blushing. You wished you’d missed how Jeonghan’s lips quirked upwards at the sight.

“No,” he sang, “I think I’m just gonna stay here and watch you play.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspiciously, and that was all Jeonghan needed before he sighed and shrugged in defeat, like a criminal caught for his crimes.

“Sorry, I just like watching your tits bounce when you get all excited,” he deadpanned. Your mouth gaped open and crossed your arm over your chest.

“You’re so gross, Jeonghan!” you said, now thoroughly uninterested in playing anymore. Jeonghan only scoffed though, to which you snapped your head back to him with an outraged expression. He smiled at you in that cheeky son-of-a-bitch way.

“Oh, don’t act like that,” he said cockily.

“Like what?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes, letting a small pause linger in the space between you. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your eyes twinkled with excitement every time he said something like this. As hot as he was, Jeonghan was a cocky, sleazy piece of shit and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Like you’re scandalized,” he said simply. You wanted to respond, wanted to defend your honor, but Jeonghan saw right through you, and he took one step forward to speak again: “Like you hate the way I talk to you. You act all innocent and nice and so uptight, but you know what?”

He took daring steps forward, one after another, until you were half-sat on the basketball machine and he stood, looming over you, surprisingly menacing despite the get-up. The air seemed to suddenly thicken and warm, tasting foul in your mouth. Then he leaned in, eyes glimmering brilliantly with amusement and that evil smile on his lips, breath hitting yours.

“I think you love being treated like a slut.”

Fuck.

He was so close to you, body heat rolling into you. You knew he saw the mechanisms of your brain turning behind your eyes, saw the fear when you realized he had seen right through you, and he smiled, and he might as well have had fucking horns.

He tilted his head, and, fuck, if every angle of his face wasn’t perfect. It was unfair. It was so unfair.

“I-I don’t-” your voice was a meek, half-hearted protest, cut off before you could even begin.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I think you do. You don’t just let any man massage your thigh, hm?”

At those words, his hand dropped onto your thigh, finger digging into soft flesh. You mewled at the feeling, causing his grin to spread wider.

“Oh, poor baby,” he pouted in fake-sympathy. “Am I making you wet?”

“JEONGHAN!”

Thank God for Kwon Soonyoung with the impeccable timing.

Soonyoung was “the pool boy” - he did not work at the pools, but he was the victim of a dunking-machine that was set up in the summertime. Kids and adults alike paid to throw balls at a big, red button that would lower a trapdoor and dunk Soonyoung in ice-cold water. You’d seen it in action and it was pretty hilarious.

At his voice, you and Jeonghan scrambled apart, his hand flying off your thigh and body twisting to back away from you, and you dropping off the machine and landing flat on your feet, blushing wildly and somewhat out of breath.

Soonyoung, the poor boy, was sprinting through the park, stopping awkwardly where you and Jeonghan had been standing. He was out of breath and had a wild look in his eyes, like he was being chased by some supernatural monster.

“Belinda is back! Get back to your coasters!” If he’d noticed your philandering he certainly didn’t mention it, breaking into a sprint again the second the words had left his lips.

“Shit, thank you, Soonyoung!” Jeonghan yelled, receiving only a limp thumbs-up from the trackstar in response. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and the two of you ran back to The Pirate Swing as fast as your legs could take you.

Your heart fluttered at your interlocked hands again, and you stared at them, focused on them, as the world became a blurred mess around you. His warmth streamed into you.

You couldn’t even look at him the rest of the shift. Something about his confrontation stirred a mimicking phenomenon in you. Did you want to fuck Jeonghan? You did, you realized, and thus you were unable to raise your gaze from the floor, pressing yourself against the wall to be far enough away from him, that he couldn’t touch your thigh again. He didn’t. He just let your cheeks blaze and pressed buttons and talked to kids, and he even waved at Belinda when she walked by, and she smiled wide and waved back.

You went home at 9 PM, shirt too tight around your chest, and chest too tight around your heart. You simply couldn’t believe it, because not only did you want to fuck Jeonghan;

You had a fucking crush on him. _____________________________

Having a crush on Yoon Jeonghan was maybe the worst revelation you’d had in your life.

You’d kept all the things you admired about him hidden under the veil of your shirt; he was sleazy and gross and he smoked weed at work and had a certain disregard for child safety. But, and there was always a but, you realized, he was also witty and easy to talk to, and it was cute when he was happy or he got excited about something, and he was so damn charismatic, and you realized you would do anything to see him with that childlike joy again.

The worst part was that Jeonghan did not like you back. In fact, you couldn’t even imagine him liking anyone. He thought you were hot and wanted to fuck and that was the end of it. All the ways you cared about him were unreciprocated. He did not care to see you happy. He did not care for the twinkle in your eyes when you were excited. He liked your tits in your shirt and was working his fingers up, day by day, to touch you. Yoon Jeonghan did not like you back.

Three days of work passed, three days of being muted and awkward around him. Jeonghan’s shine was not dulled by your lack though. The kids loved him, Belinda loved him, and he didn’t love anyone back - just let himself be showered in admiration. He was greedy like that. He took all the love and gave none out.

On this particular day, all you did was lay in your bed before work, willing time to stop so you wouldn’t have to go. Legs flopped on top of your bedsheets, work shirt on and cap on your bedside. You waited.

You waited with a metal ball in your stomach, rolling around and causing a ruckus. It rested heavy there, rolling to and fro and grazing your heart from time to time, and it hurt.

Maybe the reason it felt this bad was because you did it to yourself. Of course, Jeonghan wouldn’t like you back. He was Jeonghan. And yet, you’d had your guard down and his effortless charms had worked their way into your brain. You wondered how many girls had been in the same exact position as you; being graced with Jeonghan’s presence, being smitten by it, and now lying in bed, realizing the admiration would never be bounced back to them.

You went to work.

In the damn shirt, you walked in through the staff-door and journeyed towards The Pirate Swing.

There were so many people that day, you could hardly believe your eyes. The queues were mile-long stretches, and every pathway was spotted with body after body, walls of families, crowds swarming like insects. It was enough to induce a slight panic.

“It’s good that you’re here, Titty-shirt,” Jeonghan said, when you walked into the booth beside him. He had a bit of a wild look in his eye and he was chewing on a banana. You stood by the door of the booth, looking out at the queue - a genuine queue? To The Pirate Swing? - as the boat swung catastrophically behind you. “We’re fucking busy.”

You hummed, then turned your head to him. He had sat down, seemingly exhausted and pouting a little.

“You brought a packed lunch?” you asked, nodding towards the banana in his hand and he looked up at you. His cheeky smile made you want to die.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I stole this from Seungkwan,” he said and you laughed, and you hated that he made you laugh. The walls of the booth muffled the loud, indistinct buzz and shielded you from the chaos. The flimsy, windowed walls had never felt as intimate.

“It’s gonna be a shitty day,” you declared ceremoniously. He grunted something in agreement, voice strangled by the now finished banana. Forever himself, he discarded the peel on the corner of the control panel, among his ziploc of weed and empty cans.

It was a shitty day.

The constant swarming of people, crying children, the non-stop screech of rusted roller coaster tracks; everything brewed together into a pounding headache, as you and Jeonghan hunched together in the booth. Beads of sweat collected on your skin, where the unforgiving sun streamed through the windows.

Around 8 PM you’d had just about enough. Your head was pounding, you were hungry, and most terribly you were sad. You were sad, sitting next to Jeonghan on the dirty, hard floor of the booth, and you could cry every time he said something snarky and lewd to you. He would never like you and you were a fool for ever letting yourself get attached.

The day was constant work, constant talking to kids and putting on an energetic front. Finally the crowd seemed to thin out. Slowly but surely, the suburban families returned home and only a few people remained, and the night time glowed soft and warm.

“Dude,” Jeonghan said, neck craned to look at his phone. With most of the guests gone, he’d finally gotten a chance to waste away on his phone, putting his mouth to his makeshift bong and smoking pot. You kept the booth-door open to let the smoke out. “Wanna go see a crowd of teenagers dunk Soonyoung? Junhui just texted me.”

You were so tired. Every inch of your body yearned to relax where you sat, cross legged on the metal floor. With dark, sunken eyes and no courtesy left, you simply shook your head.

“You sure?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You were just tired enough to miss the small frown on his lips.

“I’m tired, you just go.”

Jeonghan shrugged then and stood up. He left the bong on the floor and stepped over you to exit.

“I’ll be back ASAP!” he yelled out, and you didn’t even try to look at him, to call something witty back. You just sat.

And as if it weren’t the last thing you needed today, just thirty minutes before closing, a woman and her son strolled up The Pirate Swing. You saw them, eyes glazing with worry as you flickered your head to Jeonghan’s empty chair.

“We want a ride!” cawed the woman, holding her son by the hand. You scrambled to your feet, stuttering as you dusted off your pants.

“Uh, I-” hopeful, you looked around, hoping to see Jeonghan and his long, poodle-y hair somewhere near. The pathways were deserted. “I-I actually can’t-”

Not waiting for an explanation, the woman clucked once more: “You’re still open, aren’t ya?”

You nodded, tiredness painted thick and greasy on your face. “Yes, we are, um, open, but I-”

“Well, then give us a ride?!”

This woman was going to be the death of you. Why were they even here now right before closing? You closed your eyes, collecting yourself and mustering each ounce of patience you had left.

“I’m not allowed to because I’m new-”

“Well, where is the operator? Why are you here if you don’t know how it works!”

“He’s, uh,” your face fell, “He’s using the bathroom right no-”

You’re not even sure why you lied.

“Alright,” she huffed, strained and impatient. “Well, you just ruined me and my son’s night!”

She tugged her blonde kid by the hand and began to turn around, grumbling with a red face.

“I’m so sorry, but- it’s a matter of safety-”

“Next time just say you don’t know how to do your job!” she yelled over her shoulder, mean glare coming out over her shapely glasses. Then she was jiggling away with a pouting child.

Your mouth fell open in shock. A part of you wanted to be angry - a part of you was angry - but you found yourself weighed down and sliding down the wall of the booth with a much heavier feeling; you were exhausted.

This was the last straw for tonight, you decided, resolve melting like a dropped ice cream. Booth door half-creaked open and weed vapor in the air, you buried your head in your hands and began to cry. It was small. It was not loud and sorrowful, it was small and petty. Nothing grand about crying on the dirty floor at your workplace. Sniffles and single, wet tears and a quivering lip, all dying out in the soft glow of the fairy light decorating the park.

“Y/n?”

“Shit,” you lifted your head from your hands, wiping hard on your reddened cheeks. Jeonghan was standing in the open door, looking down at you on the floor.

“Sorry, uh-”

“Why are you crying?”

You paused, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt and effectively covering your breasts. Your breath was shaky and snotty, eyelashes coated in tears. Red patches your skin around your puffy eyes, and your lips pressed into a thin line.

Jeonghan did not look like himself when you looked up at him. It must have been a completely different person, you decided, because his features had tightened and screwed into an expression you had never even seen a hint of before: concern.

It looked so utterly foreign on his face - there was always a lightness to his expression, a joking, teasing look, but now he was frowning and his brows were furrowed and his eyes were big and red and round. It made you feel small and frail. You didn’t like seeing him like that; unwell. But it seemed that feeling was mutual.

“Um,” you began, voice hoarse and shuddering like a frail old fence-gate, that’s been slammed shut. “I’ve just had a shitty fucking day and- this woman came and wanted to ride and she was just so fucking mean when I told her I couldn’t..”

Telling it all again made you feel so pathetic, it wracked another sob from you, hurdling past your lips. You caught it in your hand, pressing it to your mouth and squeezing your eyes shut up.

God, you were pathetic.

But your heavy, heavy eyelashes blinked open and you looked up to see Jeonghan’s expression softened into something else entirely;

Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately.

“No, it’s fine-”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, now at your level and up close, so you could see every tensed muscle and every strain on his beautiful face.

“I’m sorry I left you alone,” he said solemnly and for the first time since you’d met him, Jeonghan was merely expressing his regret, not bartering for some sort of gain. His words were dripping with sincerity and it was so strange, you had to laugh.

“What?” he asked, a small grin growing on his face. That was more familiar.

“I just- I’ve never seen you so serious, it’s okay, Jeonghan, I forgive you-”

He broke into a laugh as well, rhythmic clucks dancing through the air from the booth, and it immediately cheered you up: he was beautiful and practically glowing, a small rim of light encapsulating him.

“I’m very serious, I think,” he said. You rolled your puffy, old eyes.

There was a significant pause.

Your head lolled over and your gaze landed once more on the makeshift bong by the chair, now abandoned. It reminded you of how different you were. You tried too hard because you liked when people liked you, you were a hard worker, your shirt was too tight. Your shirt was too tight and that’s what had landed you in this situation.

“Can I…” you trailed off, daring to look at him again. “Can I smoke some of your weed?”

Jeonghan’s face was practically split in half the way he was smiling. There was something akin to triumph in his eyes, but it was almost fatally overpowered by sheer, bubbling, striking adoration. It made you blush.

“Of course, babe, I thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, still smiling when he scrambled forward for the bong and stretched out his arm to finger at the control panel, finally feeling the soft plastic and snatching it down to the floor with you.

“Just put your mouth to the can, baby, I’ll light it for you,” he giggled giddily, scrambling for the lighter in his pocket.

“I know how it works,” you tried to sound stern, but you were smiling and your eyes were twinkling.

Jeonghan messily pinched off a nugget of weed and placed it on the gridded holes in the can (which he had pricked with his work badge; “Hi, my name is Jeonghan!”), and you placed it to your mouth, while he held the lighter to it.

“You’re so hardcore,” he said sarcastically, face close to yours as he flicked the lighter, sending a warm flame onto the can, so the nugget lit ablaze.

“Shut up,” you said, and then you inhaled and the flame went out and turned into a glow, and warm, crisp smoke traveled down your throat, leaving it sore and burned. It felt great.

You held it in for a moment, then exhaled, and Jeonghan watched eagerly as your chest rose and fell under the restricting fabric of your shirt.

You and Jeonghan sat side by side for the last half hour, smoking together, eyes turning red and breaths turning sour and casting laughs into the night air. There was a warm buzz in your chest, a low drum, and you basked in the proximity to him, in how the heat of his body met yours in a fierce battle, at how he caught your eye when he joked, and how he smiled when you laughed. Your responsibilities melted away; your shirt felt looser.

“We’re closing now,” you hummed after a while, somehow lighter and heavier at the same time. Your eyelids felt heavy and your cheeks were warm from giggling. Jeonghan placed his hand on your wrist, squeezing and tearing your eyes to his.

“I have such a good idea right now,” he grinned lazily and you couldn't help but echo it. His eyes were red and half-lidded, and his voice was groggy from the smoke. He had run his hand through his hair one too many times and now it was puffier, poodlier than normal. He looked so handsome, you thought, studying the tan from many days in the sun. You figured he didn’t use sunscreen.

“What is it?” you breathed.

“Come on, come with me!”

Then the two of you were sneaking from building to building and giggling indiscreetly, two hunched silhouettes becoming one with the backs of buildings. Jeonghan insisted the two of you go to the toddler playground (Sunshine Dance Club, as it were called), because, in his words: “those dumb prick security guards never bother to actually check it”. He pulled you into the pastel green, red, blue, and yellow dreamscape, pulling you up a wooden tower, where you would be shielded by the railing.

The two of you sat against the railing and waited while a security guard checked the place before closing.

The mischief had made the two of you even more giggly, scratchy throats producing choppy snickering, as you leaned into each other on the wood, breathing in each other’s air. You liked being so close to him, you thought, and you were almost high enough to just spit it out. The distant stream of light overhead revealed his pores, but you liked those too.

“Shut up, shut up,” Jeonghan whispered at one point. “I think he might be coming!”

“You’ve said that three times-”

His hand clasped over your mouth and he fought not to laugh at the surprise in your eyes. Sure enough, this time he was right, as you heard booted footsteps in the distance, and the beam of a flashlight danced across the sloping and bouncing playground.

You held your breath, not only because you feared, for the first time that night, getting caught, but also because Jeonghan had leaned so close to you, that you could see every stirred acrylic in his eye, every color of brown, swirly sundae.

Both of you stopped laughing and stared at each other.

His hand dropped from your lips.

“I have cotton mouth,” he whispered, footsteps fading away. You couldn’t tell if it was the weed or what, but the air seemed thicker and you felt heavier, like imaginary hands were tugging you down. Jeonghan was no better - you couldn’t quite place the emotion on his glowing face. He almost seemed vulnerable.

“Me too,” you whispered, breathless.

A pause.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, pink and plush.

“Can I kiss you?”

You were almost bristling for a moment in pure surprise, before you recollected yourself and nodded eagerly.

“Yeah.”

You thought his lips would smash into yours; you thought he would conquer you, because that would simply be the most Jeonghan-thing he could, to take what was his, to be cheeky and horny and sleazy.

To your utmost surprise, his hand was shaking when he lifted it, brushing so softly, so gently across the skin of your neck, resting on the back of it, cold from the icy, night breeze. His hand kissed the tips of your hair, and he gently slid it up, breath shaking, as he stared at your lips. Then he leaned in.

His lips were soft like the bouncy castle on the edge of the playground, so impossibly gentle and flowing and warm. He breathed out shakily against your skin, eyes squeezed shut. Had you seen it, you would’ve almost believed that the kiss pained him, with the furrowed brows, but you didn’t, and it wasn’t painful at all, it was just that his heart was exploding and so was yours. Tender and slow, that was what it was, and you had never thought you’d use words like that to describe him.

A moment of entangled lips, slow making out and warm air covering your skin, his hand in your hair. The Sunshine Dance Club was filled with the sound of spit.

Then he pulled away, breath still shaking, but now, less vulnerable. His lips curled into a smile, spreading that childlike joy on his face. It made you smile as well.

“That was-” he shook his head at himself, cringing. Then he restarted: “Can I show you something?”

You chuckled, cheeks heavily flushed and eyes twinkling. “What is it?”

The cheekiness returned to his eyes, as he scrambled to his feet: “A surprise.”

And once again the two of you were giggling through the park, this time hand in hand, looking over your shoulders for the security guard that by this time had definitely gone home. The halted steps over the cobbled paths echoed in the dead, empty park.

It would’ve been a strange feeling - seeing everything closed and dark and empty, every inch usually crammed with people strangely void - had you not been entirely consumed by Jeonghan’s presence. His hand in yours, his laugh, his starry eyes, his face softening when he looked at you.

Jeonghan led you into Belinda’s office (he had a key because he was her favorite, he said), allowing you to sit on the edge of her desk, while he sauntered off into an attached room. You sat there, overhead light dull and buzzing, and basked in the log cabin aesthetics. Your chest was warm.

Then, from beyond the other room, sounding much further away and thereby being much bigger than you had initially imagined the attached room to be, you heard the mechanical sound of several switches. They sounded heavy and important, having a sort of resonance that continued into your room, where Belinda’s desk chair was spun halfway.

“Jeonghan?” you called, a twinge of worry in your voice. “What did you do?”

He came jogging back into the office, all wide grinned and puffy-eyed.

“You’ll see.”

Once again he grabbed onto your hand, pulling you off the desk and barging out of the doorway.

The night air enveloped you completely, stealing you away from the warmth of the office, kissing your warm skin, as you stood on the cobble. The feeling was so great, you almost missed what Jeonghan had done.

It was beautiful.

The switches had turned on the lights everywhere. In every color imaginable, illuminating dramatically sloping tracks in the distance, fairy lights on the pathways, signs re-lit, and the whole park before your eyes seemed to have become a disco-ball, sending faint streaks into the star-spotted sky like aurora borealis.

You, now red and green and yellow and blue, let out a disbelieving laugh, smiling wide. You squeezed his hand, unable to communicate further. There was something about it that left you entirely speechless. It was an inability to overcome and conquer the lights before you - your eyes feasted on them much too eagerly.

“What do you think?”

Jeonghan was looking at you.

“It’s-” you sucked in a breath, trying to compose a sudden sincerity you felt. You looked over at him. “It’s so pretty, Jeonghan. It’s really beautiful.”

“I knew you would like it,” he murmured happily, body turned to yours. You turned to him as well.

There was a moment of silence. The two of you basked in the light and in the gentle glow and the cool night, and in each other.

“Thank you for cheering me up,” you said and pursed your lips. He smiled in a gentle way. It looked nice on him.

“It’s nothing,” he said, “we were having fun.”

The conversation lulled again, and while you turned your head back to the light show, the flickering lights and the ombre, Jeonghan continued looking at you.

You felt his eyes on you, and you turned to him, shyly: “You should look at the beautiful lights.”

He shook his head, lips twisting upwards: “No.. Not right now…” And that was all he said.

The words left a bit of a void in you, like a black hole sunk in your stomach and you turned to him curiously. Jeonghan sensed your confusion, because he licked his lips and gave you a knowing smile, and then explained.

“I wanna kiss you again, love.”

And his voice was so angelic, such a grave contrast to the boy you’d come to know, but he’d been so strange tonight. Your first kiss had been so tender, now he was looking at you and his pupils were dilated and a smirk spread across his face, and you needed to know something; just one thing, before you threw yourself at him, and gave to him, something you would not be able to take back.

“Do you just wanna fuck me?” your voice echoed off the walls of the empty park, resounding accusingly. He laughed.

“Of course, I wanna fuck you, baby,” he laughed a little, shaking his head in disbelief. You stayed staring at him, bristling. “You’re hot as shit.”

“No, I mean,” you paused, because suddenly your heart was climbing into your throat and it seemed like everything you’d worried about was true, that you were just another girl that was hexed by his charms. “Do you just wanna fuck me?”

His smirk dropped. There was a moment where all you could hear was wind and the electrical whirring of the many, many lights, draining energy from the earth by the second.

“Do you honestly think I’d do this for just any girl I wanted to fuck?”

“I-”

“I thought you were smarter than that, N/n,” his lips spread once more in a smile, but this one seemed more fitting on his face - condescending and confident. Whatever vulnerability had hung in the air was replaced by warmer, thicker danger. Was it the weed making you feel this way? On edge or excited?

“I just-” you stammered, feeling bashful suddenly. Did that mean he liked you? Yes, that meant he liked you. You had truly not even considered the possibility, not really thought it through the way you had the negative outcome, so now you were standing and you didn’t know how to respond. A stuttering, blubbering mess of red cheeks and avoidant eyes. “I just- I thought you just- because you talk so much about my boobs-”

“Shhhh,” he shushed you. The cocky motherfucker actually shushed you, staring you down in a way that made you feel like prey and taking two steps forward, and closing the gap between you. He was so, so close to you, chest inches away from yours and leaning his face down to tilt his head at you.

“You’re so cute, baby,” he cooed, eyes dancing around your face.

You and him watched it, as one lean hand lifted itself to your chest, tightly wrapped in polyester-fabric. You sucked in a breath. His fingers lightly grazed it, trailing over the soft plushness of it. Then he cupped it, experimentally, like feeling the weight of it in his hand. You whimpered pathetically.

“Hm,” he hummed, ripping his gaze from your tits very briefly at the noise, “you sound so pretty.”

In an effort to steal more noises from your pretty lips, his delicate thumb rubbed over your nipple, watching it harden under the fabric with a bemused smirk. Your breathing became heavy and shaky.

“Can we– please?” you whined, but he only tutted, watching the fat crook under his finger.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I’m having my fun,” he said, nonchalantly, another hand snaking up to your other tit. “Been waiting for this since the first time I saw you.”

You couldn’t help but whimper quietly, his caresses and his intense gaze sending electricity straight to your core. You fingers wrapped around his forearms where they flexed, as he kneaded your chest eagerly.

“That’s right,” he whispered and leaned into you, eyes half lidded and lips wet from spit. “Be a good girl and let me play with your pretty titties.”

Then he kissed you again, groaning into your mouth at the weight of your tits in his hands. His groping became more rough and hurried, as he bit your lip and slipped his tongue in your mouth.

“Fuck, baby, need to get your shirt off, it’s so tight,” he groaned, licking into your mouth. You whined, back arching into his hand. “Poor baby, shirt so tight it’s strangling your pretty tits.”

“Jeonghan, please!” You cried, putting one hand on his chest to push him away from you. He pulled away, lips red and swollen and cheeks delightfully flushed.

“Okay, baby,” he whispered, comfortingly. “Okay, okay, I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.”

You could cry. The way he was touching you so intimately, but refusing to snake his hand down to your burning core, where you could feel yourself fucking dripping. Your body was on fire and your voice was hoarse from the weed that still coursed through your body.

“Please, please,” you mumbled, and it was desperate enough that Jeonghan pulled his hands from your chest (which took more willpower than he was willing to admit), sliding them over your back and pulling you into him. You nosed into the crook of his neck, sighing happily.

“Alright, baby,” He breathed, hand in your hair. You felt his neck crane, looking around.

“Come with me, baby, I know just where to go.”

You didn’t even have time to whine that you didn’t want to go anywhere, you wanted him to touch you. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and crossed the pathway, and you saw the yellow, lit-up sign for the funhouse before you disappeared into the entrance.

The first room had a large circular hallway, and when you stepped onto the red plastic, it rolled a little. You and Jeonghan both stumbled rockily, and you nosedived into his chest. He laughed, steadying you with warm fingers on your waist. “Silly girl,” his voice cooed in your ear.

“Jeonghan, please touch me-”

“We’re almost there, baby,” he said, and he was being a little annoying, because he’d just played with your boobs and made you so fucking wet that your panties were sticking to your folds, and now he was trudging you through the hallways of a funhouse. You both skiddered out of the circular hallway with much trouble.

The next room was slanted, and in your intoxicated mind, this was more than a challenge. The whole room was blue and your knuckles became celeste, as you gripped the slanted railing.

“Jeonghan, I can’t-”

Not another word out of your lips, before Jeonghan was scooping you up in his arms, walking with seemingly no problem through the room. “Shit!” you yelped when he did so, but he only smiled at you, a mixture of adoration and teasing. He ran with you, his bride, through a black and white doorway.

The next room was the mirror maze, and Jeonghan’s face lit up at the sight of it.

“We’re here!” he panted giddily, gently lowering you. You found your footing and looked around, a little speechless at how quickly he’d constructed this plan. There were at least 20 different angles of you, and you cringed at your own disheveled appearance and how your tiny shirt dug into your skin. A hall of reflection, the roof and flooring was pitch black and only you and him existed in the void, copycats at every corner.

You saw Jeonghan in the mirror, walking up behind you. He was smirking, planting his head on your shoulder and peering up at you, as his hands caressed your waist, riding up your shirt and exposing your stomach 20 times over. You hated to say it, but seeing his veiny, big hands on you made your breath hitch.

“Was it not worth it, hmm?” he sang innocently, blinking at you with a bunched up cheek on your shoulder. His sleazy hands worked the fabric upwards, just under the impressive bump of your chest.

His eyes flicked over to the most nearby mirror. Breath becoming shaky, his hands lifted the shirt, finally, over your chest, exposing your simple, black bra and the soft skin of your tits. You could breathe easier, without the fabric digging into your chest.

“Fuck,” he hissed, soft hands immediately dipping inwards to touch over the skin. “Shit, you’re so perfect,” his voice was strangled, all composure gone as he looked at your chest with something akin to wonder.

You moaned, feeling his dick, fully fucking hard from just playing with your soft mounds, grinding into your ass. Like a horny teenage boy, he moaned shakily, big hands covering your boobs and squeezing, and rutting into you from behind. As much as you wanted him to touch you, you couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of Jeonghan so utterly fucked out, using your body to pleasure himself. It was so erotic, the way his pretty face twisted in place and his fingers dug into the fat of your chest, panting into your neck. Then the sight untangled itself from your body.

“Sorry, sorry,” he was out of breath, removing his hips from your ass. “I got too caught up.”

“It’s okay-”

He spun you around, pushing your body against the mirror. You stood back to back with your reflection.

“No, it’s not,” he breathed, working your shirt the rest of the way off hastily. You lifted your arms to help the fabric off.

You very barely registered Jeonghan snaking your pants off, and then his own clothes. You leaned your head on the mirror and you could finally breathe without the tight shirt, and you somehow felt stronger, not vulnerable like you would have expected. And when your eyes flicked to another mirror and you saw Jeonghan shirtless too, you realized the two of you were much more similar now.

Jeonghan was standing in his boxers now, and you in your panties.

“You know, I always thought you’d be more composed during sex,” you mused, returning your focus to him and smiling teasingly, because even now he was transfixed on your bare chest, heaving for air. Jeonghan scoffed, seemingly genuinely offended by this.

“It’s not my fault your fat fucking rack has been staring at me through that tiny fucking shirt every day,” he spat, and in a sort of retaliation he cupped your pussy through your panties.

Finally, he touched your cunt, and God, was it worth the wait, because it shot straight through your stomach, even the slightest touch on the cold, wet fabric. Jeonghan grinned cockily at the state of your underwear.

“You’re one to talk,” he teased. “Your pussy is fucking weeping for me.”

You moaned and your back twisted against the cold surface of the mirror, as Jeonghan slipped his finger upwards to circle your clit slowly.

“N-ngh, fuck..”

“There you go,” he said in fake sympathy, pouting, and even with his hand on your clit, you could almost believe it, because he just looked that angelic and pure. “Finally your greedy cunt has my hand, hm? Bet you’ve been thinking about this since we met.”

He couldn’t help himself. He trailed his free up to your chest again. It just looked so delectable, unblemished skin, jiggling at every twitch and shake from you, and nipples hardened to pebbles. “I’ve been thinking about you since we met,” he sighed happily, pinching the nipples between his fingers and relishing in your strangled whine.

Jeonghan slipped his hand in your panties, scoffing to himself at just how fucking wet you were, leaking from your hole like a slut, when his finger prodded at it.

“P-Please, Jeonghan, please, fuck-”

Your plea was cut off by Jeonghan’s hand gripping your throat. He smirked at your tortured expression, one hand circling your hole and the other wrapped around your neck, thumb climbing up your chin to rest on your lip.

“What do you want?” he tilted his head challengingly. You gulped, face flushed and baby hairs sticking to your sweat-gleamy face.

“I-I want you to finger me,” you mustered, building up all the courage you could to hold eye contact with him and his lopsided grin. He raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise.

“Really?” he sang, “you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Of course, all those moments of shaming him for thirsting over you. Now you were basically fucking naked, tits perked up from your arched back and writhing under him for just a single finger in your glistening hole.

“Jeonghan, I’m sorry-”

His thumb on your lip tugged downwards, effectively muffling your words and shushing you. He watched your pretty lip bend to the will of his thumb, humming.

“Then say it,” he shrugged.

“Wha?” your speech was slurred by his heavy thumb.

“Say you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy,” he repeated, acting exasperated, like it was your fault for not being able to keep up. Legs spread and utterly naked, you flushed and felt dumb, and you felt even dumber when you began to speak, and his thumb stayed where it was, weighing down your lip.

“I-I wan’ gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up my tight, pink pussy,” you slurred. Somehow the embarrassment translated into a wave of slick exciting your hole and landing on Jeonghan’s hand. He grinned at your obedience, hand pushing up so his thumb entered your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and the rest of his hand cradled your face.

“Good girl,” he purred, head craned down to look at you, suckling his thumb with wide eyes. He finally heeded your request, two fingers pushing into your sopping heat. “Now suck on my thumb like the good, big-titted girl you fucking are while I make you cum.”

He was immediately bullying his fingers in and out of you, curling them. Drool escaped where your lips wrapped around his thumb, as you moaned on it, feeling him poke and prod at your tongue with an evil smirk on his pretty face. You saw his dick print straining against his boxers in the corner of your vision.

“Been waiting for this pussy to be mine,” hummed Jeonghan, long eyelashes coming over his eyes when he looked down at you. “You know, if you’d been a little more cooperative I could’ve had my cock in you everyday for the past week.”

You sobbed around his thumb, panting for air through your nose. His fingers felt so good, pistoning into you and so thin you could feel the bulge of each crooking knuckle churning in and out. His thumb sneaked back up to rub your clit again, and you clawed at his shoulders, trying to stabilize your suddenly shaking legs.

Jeonghan let out the most erotic, guttural moan you’d ever heard, when he watched drool slip from your swollen, red lips and languidly ooze on your trembling chest. His face twisted in pleasure at the sight of them, becoming all shiny and slicked up from your own spit.

“Fuck, you’re so pathetic. Can’t believe you’re fucking drooling all over your tits,” he spat, cheeks flushed as he leaned back to look at them, all pretty and slick and glowing under the maze’s fluorescent tubes. He slipped his thumb from your mouth to begin smearing the spit all over your skin.

Your cunt pulsed around his fingers, clenching and unclenching as something in your belly tightened. You heaved for air, moaning loudly into the maze and practically crying.

“F-Fuck, Hannie, f-feels s’ good!” you whined, chest thrashing under his needy hands. He lifted his gaze to smile at you, where he was crooked over to look closely at your spit-slick boobs.

“I know, baby, I know. Cum on my fingers, now, m’kay?” He smiled cheekily, pressing especially hard on your clit. You saw white, orgasm so potent, you almost didn’t even register how Jeonghan dived into your chest, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples

The wet, smacking of his lips and his pleased humming into the soft skin only spurred on your orgasm, as your cum coated Jeonghan’s fingers. His nose, buried in the flesh of your tit, breathed out a dam of warm air into it.

His fingers stilled within you, slowly pulling out, while he continued to lap at your chest, warm tongue on your areola. You tried to catch your breath, but it was hard with how he moaned around your fucking tit, sucking and smacking his lips, while holding you to him. You cried out softly when he nibbled at it, to which he finally pulled away, smiling teasingly.

There was something about the way he was so shameless about it, that almost made you feel even more ashamed, especially when you saw your form in the mirror, and how wet and red your boob was from his insistent sucking. You blushed deeply.

“You gettin’ shy on me now?” he tapped your cheek, eyes twinkling.

“Not used to seeing myself,” you mumbled sheepishly. Jeonghan’s ever lust-filled gaze was overtaken with a very deep, fundamental adoration. His smile became genuine - not teasing nor in feigned sympathy. Despite being the sexiest person he’d ever met, Jeonghan found you so severely cute in that moment, all heaved breaths and glossy lips and rosy cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, tapping your nose. The action would’ve been annoying were not entirely too fond of him at this moment. His eyes wandered, trailing down your collarbones and back to your cleavage. Then returned the lust: “Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous girl with big, bouncing fuckin’ tits.”

His fascination with them was genuinely insane, but you thought he was pretty and sweet, so you let him marvel.

As if he could never get enough, he reached out one hand and cupped your tit again.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your pretty tits?” Jeonghan asked, experimentally pressing the mounds together and licking his lips at the sight. He had to swallow (and he would never admit this) because the idea actually had him salivating.

“Yes, Hannie,” you said sweetly, because although you really wanted his dick inside you, he had that twinkle in his eye that made your heart burst, and, indeed, you would do anything to keep the starlight blazing in his pupils. Jeonghan looked up with raised brows - this time, the surprise was not feigned. Swiftly, he grabbed your head and kissed you, deeply and appreciatively licking into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he murmured, rowing the two of you away from the mirror-wall with his tongue down your throat. “Good fucking girl.”

He pulled away from you, frantically looking around, and you simply waited for his command. He began to crawl onto the floor, lying down on the hard, sleek black flooring, resting on his elbows.

“C’mere,” was all he said, and you sat down on top of him, confused. He wantonly pushed you by your shoulder so you rested further down, while he lifted his hip to free his cock.

It was long and right by your fucking face.

Impossibly pretty and pink near the tip, it oozed sticky, white liquid, dripping down the veiny side, and now you were salivating, because you almost wanted to take it in your mouth and suck his soul out.

“Shit,” he groaned, studying your face next to his hard, heavy dick with a tortured expression on his face. It seemed his thoughts had traveled the same road as yours, because when he spoke, he said: “There’s so much I wanna do to you, doll. Give me another couple shifts, I’ll have your cum all over the fucking park.”

Without another word, he leaned forward and grabbed each of your tits, hovering just below where his dick extended out, proud and tall like a gothic church. You helped by crawling further over his tan body, lying down on your stomach with your chest raised up.

Jeonghan enclosed your tits around his dick, breath shaking and eyes blinking shut. The sounds he released were angelic, wetting and rewetting his fiery lips, and he struggled to keep his eyes open from the pleasure. He didn’t want to close them though, because the sight of you was insane.

You were so pretty, smiling in adoration where you laid between his legs. Prettiest girl in the world, he thought, just letting him bounce your fat tits up and down his shaft like a good, obedient girl. Your rack was like a fucking cloud around him, jerking him off and spurting pre-cum on the already slick skin.

“S-Shit, you’re so fucking- pretty-” he stuttered, breath trembling and face flushed. From every angle he saw you, perfect, pretty, cute and sweet you. Every version of you in the mirror was perfect, he realized, every copycat a perfect picture.

“You’re pretty,” you mused, wrapping your hand around the lower part of his shaft where your tits didn’t quite reach and squeezing it. Jeonghan moaned, stammering the breathy noise. He gulped then.

“I-I’m gonna cum, shit-” he sucked in a harsh breath. He could not believe how lovely you were, how witty and funny and sweet and how big your fucking tits were bouncing up and down around his cock. “C-Can I cum on them, baby?”

“Of course, Hannie,” you obeyed sweetly, watching how he desperately bucked his hips upwards. Squeezing your hand around the base of his cock, you let out a final admission to help him cum: “Want you to cum on my tits, Hannie, want it so bad.”

Sure enough, it was that easy, because without warning long ropes of thick, white cum spurted into the valley of your breasts and climbed up to your collarbones and neck. Jeonghan cried out when he came, eyes finally squeezing totally shut and hips stuttering into your chest. He sounded angelic, even with his voice hoarse from the weed and grunting.

You let him calm down, waited until his pants turned into soft, regular breaths, and released his now flaccid cock from your cleavage.

“Oh shit, baby,” he sighed happily. “Come up here.”

You crawled up to his chest, curling into his open arms and feeling him under your cheek. Your legs entangled on the funhouse floor, mirrors a little foggy from the sweat and the sex. It was perfect, lying in his chest, having him, knowing he wanted you and liked you. Perfectly timeless, you draped over each other limply.

Or almost perfect.

You wiggled your hips away from his body, hoping then he wouldn’t notice how you were still leaking from your poor, puffy hole. Jeonghan frowned when you did so, though, both hands grabbing your waist and tilting his head down to look at you.

“What is it, baby?” he asked.

You looked away bashfully, shaking your head, but Jeonghan gripped your face in one hand, just as condescending as his thumb had been earlier: “You’re covered in my cum, baby. You’re not getting shy on me now. Tell Hannie what’s troubling you.”

His voice was stern. You tightened your lips the best you could with his hand squeezing your cheeks together.

“I just..” you were embarrassed again, with how your words became muffled and slurred by his flexed hand. He paid it no mind though, looking at you intently to continue.

“YouweresoprettyearlierIgotwetagain.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. From beyond the dark void, you heard Jeonghan laughing. You opened your eyes and he removed his hand from your face, instead brushing it through your hair lovingly.

You were gonna get whiplash with how lovingly he looked at you, how sweetly and with so much wonder and adoration; and how it stood in such a stark contrast to the words that left his mouth:

“Baby, you just get up and bounce your fat tiddies around a little bit, I promise you, I’ll get hard in the next five fucking minutes. Then you can get my cock in your cute, greedy pussy. How’s that sound?”

Really fucking good.

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cafterdark · 5 months

Text

"What do you mean I'm being transferred!" You shout to your manager

"My supervisor has requested that you be transferred to the branch closer to her for more... direct communication." He says. His eyes are wide, a small tremor takes over his right hand. For a former Army NCO to be that scared, she must be something.

"Have I done anything wrong?" You say.

"No, in fact you've been the best worker here. That's why she wants you."

You pinch your nose. "Is there anyway out of this?"

"I'm afraid she's made it exceptionally clear that there isn't."

"Fine. What's the address."

"I'll write it down."

--------------------------

You arrive at the office the next morning. The first leaves on the trees are turning red. It's luckily a shorter commute than your old office, but you're still pissed. You had climbed up from the pit of internships into a cozy position and office. You were the first trans, no scratch that, woman to get into management. This was bullshit.

You step in. The front desk is empty. You sit down and wait. And wait. And wait. Finally, a blonde worker passes by. The first thing you notice is that her outfit is less than professional. She wears a skirt that barely goes below her legs. Her stockings hug her tights very tight. Her blouse is basically open, showing off her admittedly very beautiful tits in a pair of lingerie. If you weren't so pissed you'd be turned on. You're glad you wore slacks today.

"Hey," You call to her. "Do you know where..." You check the slip of paper in your hand. "Miss Maverne's office is?"

The woman looks at you. Her make up is ruined, lipstick smudged, mascara spilling down her face. Her hair is messy. You could swear that you can see the outlines of hands on the sides of her face. Her pupils eclipse her blue eyes. She looks as if she barely knew where she was. After a long pause of blank stares at you, she says, "Do you mean Mistress?"

"Uh..." You're paralyzed by the absurdity of the situation. Have you stumbled onto a porn set by accident?

After a long minute of the girl thinking where you could almost hear the AOL noises playing in her head, she perks up and says, "Oh, you must be new here! I'll take you to Mistress!"

Her hand shooks out and drags you through a set of doors and into the office. You look around. You see many workers with the same blown out eyes, dazed looks, and slutty office wear around you. All women. One of them is drooling at their desk while colors flash on their computer. You wonder what the hell is going on here. You arrive at a large set of doors. "Here she is!"

A secretary sits at a desk next to the doors. She's wearing what couldn't even be charitably called an outfit. Just a few strips of cloth prevent her from being fully nude. On the exposed parts are very visible hickies.

"I brought a new recruit for Mistress!" The blonde hair girl says

The secretary pouts "But Mistress isn't accepting anyone till..."

"That's quite alright secretary, thank you." A woman's voice says. You look to your right, then up. The woman is at least 6'2", and she's wearing heels. Her towering over you is an understatement. She is wearing the only proper work outfit of slacks, a blouse, and jacket. Still, there is an aura of lust around her, like she could wear anything and still look sexy in it. Two grey eyes pierce into your soul. She grins.

"You're both very good girls, you can leave now" She says. The two girls shutter and wander off. "Now, Miss Claire Hall, would you please step into my office."

You're led in and sit down in a very comfortable chair. Miss Maverne continues to look into your very soul and says

"You're probably wondering why you're here right now."

"Yeah I am, what the fuck is this?"

"This is your new office for the foreseeable future. I picked you because you're special. It's not often a woman rises the ranks of this business."

"Thanks?"

"Good Girl."

A blush strikes your cheeks. You're really glad you wore slacks today. That compliment shouldn't have hit that hard.

"Now did your old boss give you any information about your new position?"

"N...no" you stutter out, still in minor shock from the compliment. "Just the address and your name."

"Wonderful, well, you noticed that the front desk was empty right?"

"Yeah?"

"You'll be working as the receptionist there."

"What!" The rage breaks through your flustered mind like a hammer. "May I remind you that I have years of experience in programming, administration, planning, and managing under my belt?"

"So does every other worker here. You might've been a big fish in a little pond there, but here you're puny, and you'll start where you deserve." She stands up, and you can't help but internalize her words a small bit. Still your indignation burns it.

"I'm leaving. I don't deserve this humiliation." You get up and walk to the door.

"Stop." You freeze stiff.

"Walk back." You walk back.

"Sit and stare into my eyes." You sit back down into the extremely comfortable chair and stare up into her eyes. They looked grey before but now hints of green and blue scatter in. You can't help but dive into them, trying to discover their true color. It feels like you're sinking deeper and deeper into an ocean of warm homey

"Aren't my eyes pretty?" She says.

"Yuh." The words don't move right and come out wrong.

"Don't you want to keep having the privilege to stare into my eyes?" Her voice is so beautiful.

This time the words don't even come out, you just nod.

She pulls out a contract and pen. "Then sign this."

You grab the pen but it falls out of your hand. "Oops! Let me help." She says in that musical voice. She takes the pen and places it in your hand, then pulls it to the paper. She guides it into a passable signature, then smiles.

"Good Girl." You shutter.

"Right, so first things first, your breast enhancement surgery is next week."

Sanity floats up above the honey ocean. "What?"

"And that outfit is not approved. At least the four top buttons of your blouse must be unbuttoned. Pants are not allowed, only skirts that are above the mid thigh."

"Excuse me?"

"It's all in your contract."

"I didn't sign this!"

"Is that not in fact your signature on the paper?"

You look down and see a perfect replica of your signature. Fury boils in you.

"Fuck that! I'm leaving!" You get up.

"Where are you going Miss Hall?"

"Escaping this sex cult."

"Miss Hall, this is your 90 day review."

"What do you mean, I've only been here for..." You look out the window, it's snowing. You look down at your new pair of tits. Your blouse barely holds them. A cold breeze tickle your thighs. "What have you done to me?"

"Nothing." She says. "Now sit and listen." You crumble back into your chair.

"Now, both staff and guests have highly rated your performance with them in the last 90 days. You've really proven to be a capable fit for your position."

You feel heat building up in you and you don't know why.

"Good Girl." She says. Those two words hit like a truck. You almost moan. She smiles. She's smiling... about you! Excitement flutters in your chest. Wait.

"Something's wrong."

"What's wrong, Ms Cumdump?" Mistress says "Is it something you'd like to bring up for your 6 month review?"

"That name for a start, that's not my name."

Mistress sighs. "This again... Then what name would it be?"

"You know what it is it's..." You pause. Why can't you remember your name? You dig in deep but find nothing. Why can't you remember your name?

"Don't overwork that pathetic little brain of yours sweety." Mistress says. "Just check your name tag."

Oh right! It's that easy. Mistress is so smart. You look down and see your uniform. Lingerie with the required derogatory text sharpied across your body. You pull up your lanyard and read "Hypnoslut Cumdump, Receptionist and Fucktoy."

Ah, it was that easy. Wait, weren't you just in a blouse? You look up to Mistress. God she's so tall when you're on your knees. The hot late summer air sticks to your nude body. It's not amazing but receptionists aren't allowed to wear clothes and the rules are the rules. You stare into Mistress's pretty eyes and she stands and looks down at you. Mistress says

"Is there anything you want to tell me before we begin your first year performance test, Ms Cumdump?"

You try to think of what you were going to say. But your brain is soooooooooo empty that you can't remember. Probably about how beautiful she is. Yeah, that's it.

"You're sooooooooo pretty Mistress." You say.

She smiles. "Thank you, now..." She unzips her slacks and pulls out her massive cock. You're already drooling. She stands there, taunting you with it, before saying "Begin."

You take the cock into your mouth and begin worshiping it like a good fucktoy does. You hit the spot you know she's sensitive to. Mistress shutters and grabs your hair. "Good Girl." She says. You could've cum in the spot to those words if only she gave you permission. Before you could even question it, she pulls you in, and you're lost to your work.

--------------------------

Inspired by @anarqueeen :)

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wandasaura · 3 months

Text

MY FACE IN A RED FLUSH

summary — your first mistake was thinking natasha wouldn’t use the time away to tease you, your second mistake was thinking you could handle it

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, smut, sexting, phone sex, teasing, fingering, nipple stimulation, degradation, praise, daddy kink, dom/sub relationship, bathroom encounter (nothing like… bad bad), begging, threats of punishment, wanda slaps r’s ass ;), the idiots banter but what’s new

authors note — i got carried away with this but hey, we got some development between wanda and r going on at least, also some insight to wandanats relationship and their dynamic + how the contract came about

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

Natasha was going to be gone on business for two full weeks. You’d expected the hardest part of that fact to be how you were sure to miss her, but you were severely mistaken. When day ten came around, and she still wasn’t home, you weren’t at all surprised to find that the several notifications waiting for your attention were all from her. She’d been doing her best to keep you informed in regards to her plans and meetings, and for the most part, she’d been behaving herself well, but the first glance at her messages had effortlessly set your mood for the remainder of the day.

Natasha | Daddy misses you, angel.

Natasha | I bet that sweet pussy misses me too.

Natasha | image attached

You couldn’t help but audibly groan when you opened your iMessages. It was instinctual, you never wanted to leave her messages unanswered, but you regretted your urgency to appease her the second you came face to face with her visibly damp panties and toned thighs that had acquired quite the tan since shipping off to the tropical island just over a week and a bit ago. The deep red material that you were all too familiar with was an even deeper shade of maroon now, so damp that it molded to the shape of her labia, and the bulge of her clitoris was captivating. A throb shot through your own core as you fantasized about taking care of her little situation with your mouth, tonguing at her panties until she got so annoyed with your teasing that she tore them in two and forced your head in close, but she was a thousand miles away, and you were under strict instructions not to touch yourself without her permission.

For a second, you questioned if Wanda had received the same image. If she had, which you were absolutely certain she did, you knew that the lawyer was rightfully hot and bothered, but you doubted she had the same rules as you. Wanda did not seem the type to submit, even if it meant appeasing her wife. After all, there would be no need for you in their relationship if she allowed Natasha to take the reins every once in a while, and you found yourself envious of the woman who could relieve herself at any chance.

You whined at the deep ache in your core, your panties positively ruined beyond a point of salvation when another image rolled through, though this time, she’d taken away your privilege of seeing her well defined lips and clit, however, she’d replaced what you’d lost with the sight of her hand buried in the material. It was her left hand, and the diamond on the center of her engagement ring pressed against the tight materials of her panties. You’d always found it exceptionally hot to be fucking a married woman with consent from her partner, but something about seeing her touch herself with the very hand that Wanda had kissed with adoration in front of all of their family and friends was truly vulgar. She wasn’t playing fair at all, but you suspected she had never intended to make this easy for you.

You | Daddy

It was a simple response, one that in no way encapsulated the millions of scenarios running through your head, but you had no other words to share with her. Not when you’d only just woken up and your sole interest was devouring her. You’d never been particularly good at communication, especially not when it came to sexual circumstances, but god did Natasha love to make you work for it. It shouldn’t have come as any surprise to you that she would pull a stunt like this, but you supposed your naivety was what captivated her so ferociously.

Natasha | Yes, angel? See something you like?

You | You.

You | Daddy, please.

Natasha | Please, what? Don’t you have a class to get to, I wouldn’t want to make you late. Get ready for school, moya lyubov.

Natasha | image attached

She was really playing dirty now. The unspoken promise that you wouldn’t be allowed to touch yourself felt like pure torture, but that had only worsened the blow for when the next picture rolled in seconds later. You’d half expected it to follow the saga of the others; some kind of display in regards to her dripping core and drenched panties. Would she pull them off to the side and bury two or maybe even three fingers into her pleading hole? Or perhaps she would take them off completely and give you an unconstructed glimpse of her cunt. You had been good afterall, Wanda hadn’t relayed any instances of bratty behavior to your knowledge, so she had every reason to reward you. Clearly she was not feeling generous, because the picture you were confronted with at seven o’six in the morning was of her naked chest, and just slightly off-screen you could make out the straps of her favorite lacy red bra. Her nipples were pebbled, undoubtable from the combination of her arousal and the broken thermostat in her suite, and they were a color that attempted to resemble a pinky-mauve. Her manicured fingers pinched at the left bud, but her right remained untouched and begging for the same attention. Her back was arched, leaning into the pain, and while you couldn’t see her shoulders, you could image the tanlines that graced her unblemished skin.

You | You’re not playing fair, Daddy

Natasha | I don’t have to play fair, malyshka. I suggest you start getting ready for class, and I would think twice about trying to touch yourself before I give you permission.

Your lips, already in a pout, had seemed to turn even more downward at her blatant disregard for your sanity. You’d just barely survived nine days without her touch and now, on the tenth, she decided to make that worse by teasing you? Even if she did decide to give you permission, nobody, including you, could make you cum the way she did. It would be foolish to even try and compete with her skills.

You | I can always skip

Natasha | I find out you skipped and you won’t be cumming until summer break

Your heart plummeted faster than a free falling elevator at the implication of spending the next four and a half weeks without an orgasm, especially because you knew that just because she wouldn’t push you over the edge, didn’t mean she wouldn’t tease you and work you up to that point. She would make your life an absolute living hell if you gave her the chance, and that was not a fire you wanted to play with, not now and not ever.

You | I’m going!

Natasha | That’s what I thought. Good girl.

Begrudgingly you pulled yourself out of bed and shuffled over to your duffle bag of clothes in the corner of the room. Ever since the night of the sixth day, when you’d crashed into Wanda’s arms and ratted out your professor, you’d been sleeping at the Maximoff residence. The Sokovian lawyer didn’t seem to be minding your presence, or at least, she hadn’t told you that she minded, but you still tried your best to tiptoe around her. She was always up before you, always in the kitchen when you ventured down the stairs in an outfit that was progressively getting shorter and shorter as the weather warmed. She had breakfast waiting for you most days, and if she didn’t, there was a note on the countertops that said she was already at the office and hadn’t wanted you to eat cold food. She didn’t need to know that on those days, you didn’t have any breakfast at all. On the morning of the eighth, she learned that you hate oatmeal. You’d tried your best to eat it all, or at least an amount that would appease her, but after you gagged for the third time, she pulled the bowl away from your face and scolded you for not saying something the second she put it down in front of you. It was weird. Neither one of you really sought the other out, but when you did cross paths, the atmosphere wasn’t as cold and dark.

It wasn’t as warm as it had been in recent days, so you took full advantage of the wind and the gloomy skies to wiggle your body into a pair of black leggings and one of Natasha’s hoodies that had been left laying around. You adored the start of spring and the mid-summer warmth, but you detested the fact that when those days came, you wouldn’t get to wear the womens clothes as frequently. You supposed you could always steal some of her t-shirts, but there hadn’t been much opportunity to do so yet.

Wanda was in the kitchen that morning, much to your delight. She wasn’t Natasha, you don’t know if she’ll ever mean as much to you as Natasha does, but you liked the simple fact that the house felt lived in when she was around. Her presence served as a distraction from the icky wetness collecting in your panties, and yes, you had changed them only minutes ago, but nothing could stop the floodgates until Natasha allowed you even the slightest fraction of relief.

“Your wife is mean.” You didn’t bother with pleasantries, didn’t even bother to look her in the eye as you walked your way to her fridge and pulled out the pitcher of orange juice. It had become sort of a routine. Wanda made breakfast for the both of you and you got the drinks. You liked having little responsibilities, because even if you knew that you were more than welcome here, you felt the need to earn your keep.

“My wife, huh? Thought she was your Daddy.” Wanda snorted, but the clench in her jaw was enough of an indication that she had received the same messages and wasn’t completely lost on the reason why you were pawning Natasha off so easily. You were annoyed to find that she was handling the teasing better than you. You were absolutely certain that your entire body was as jagged as a sharp rock, and petulantly, you hoped that Natasha stubbed her toe on the way to her next meeting.

“Nope. You can have her. She’s being a tease.” You huffed, bracing your hands on the edge of the counter before you scooted back into a comfortable position against the floating cabinets. Well, as comfortably as possible with the ache between your thighs that you were trying your absolute hardest not to mess with, even though it would be so easy to cross your legs and hope to god that it did something to relieve you. Wanda seemed to appreciate your restraint, because she sent you a soft smile in return and didn’t say anything about you sitting on her counters.

“Oh, I know.” Wanda puffed out a breath of air, the first indication that maybe she wasn’t handling the situation well, just better at hiding her frustration. “Little brat doesn’t know what to do with herself when she’s away for so long.”

You’d never heard Natasha be called anything of the sort, and the admission of her role in the bedroom had brought back your curiosity. Deciding that you couldn’t possibly get in trouble for being curious, you kicked your feet against the cabinets beneath your dangling legs and looked over at Wanda. “Can I ask you a question?”

“If you stop kicking my cabinets.” The lawyer looked at you in exasperation, entirely unimpressed with your fidgeting, though she wasn’t angry. You were thankful for that, because the combination of academic stress and sexual teasing had you restless in all fronts.

“Do you let Natty top you?” You smiled shyly once the words had passed your lips, hoping that it would soften the blow once Wanda processed your question. You weren’t sure if you had a close enough relationship with her to be asking such a thing, but over the last few weeks, you’d really started to wonder how they’d even come to the consensus of opening their relationship to a third party.

Wanda looked at you incredulously, but she shook her head anyway. “No. Why the question? You’re usually running in the opposite direction anytime we ask you something sexual.”

As if your body was trying to prove a point, your cheeks flushed scarlet and you dropped your gaze down to your lap, eliciting a chuckle out of Wanda. “I dunno. You don’t seem the type to submit, and Natty is being a brat. Guess I was just wondering about the contract. How you came up with it and all.”

“Have you talked to Nat about this? Seems you’ve got a lot on your mind.” Wanda hummed, her attention focused on the eggs she was scrambling, though you knew the real reason she was so focused was because she didn’t want to overwhelm you when you had finally gotten the courage to speak to her about this type of thing. She wasn’t wrong. Any other time she’d ever mentioned your sexual relationship with her wife you ran in the other direction, or you retorted with something rude just to get her off your back. She wasn’t as blind to that last detail as you thought she was.

“Not a lot.” You protested immediately, not wanting it to come across like you were rethinking this situation. “Her ring was… very visible in the second picture she sent. You’re married. Very happily from what I’ve seen. If anyone else that I know were in this situation, they’d think I was a homewrecker or something.”

“Is that how you feel?” Wanda frowned, her attention still on the eggs she was scrambling, but she was quickly running out of alternatives to focus on as they reached they perfect consistency.

“No! Nat’s too in love with you to ever do something that would upset you. If you weren’t okay with her… using me… then she would’ve ended things already.”

“Honey, we both know Natasha is not using you. That woman is just as devoted to you as she is to me, but you’re right, she wouldn’t jeopardize our marriage. The contract was my idea. You were my idea. Natasha would be more than happy to submit to me for the rest of our lives if I wasn’t okay with this, but I know that she needs the control as much as I do. We make sacrifices for our partners every day. A marriage is not a one way street.” Wanda smiled softly, nudging your thigh when she realized you were sitting right in front of the cabinet she kept the plates on.

“Why are you okay with me then?” You frowned, having even more questions now then you originally did. Wanda had said that Natasha was devoted to you in the same way she is with Wanda. Does that mean she feels the same as you do? Are your feelings not as unrequited as you’d been forcing yourself to believe?

“You make her happy.” There was something more on the tip of her tongue, something heavy and potentially earth-shattering, but you didn’t press her to share. She was already sharing more than enough with you, and you appreciated her honesty even if it was filtered. “Anymore questions from the peanut gallery, or can we eat our breakfast before you’re late to class?”

“No more questions.” You hopped off the counter, grinning cheekily when you saw Wanda wince out of your peripheral vision. “Would you tell her if I skipped class?”

“Are you sick?” Wanda quirked a single eyebrow in your direction, her hands full of plates as she carried eggs and pancakes toward the dining room table. You grabbed the pitcher of juice and two glasses, following her like a lost duckling despite knowing your way around.

“Does horny count as sick?” You asked, only receiving a huff of laughter and a firm shake of the head as a response.

If you thought your morning had been difficult to handle, your afternoon was even worse. You shifted uncomfortably at your desk, trying to get your cold and sticky panties away from your sensitive core, while simultaneously listening to your professor drone on and on about sentence translations and truth tables. Everytime you moved, you achieved the exact opposite of what you wanted. Your panties were so wet they clung to your pussy, and with each shift of hips and press of your thighs, a pulse of pleasure shot up through your belly and only worsened your situation.

Typically, you sat in the very front row in all of your lectures. You were what others would call a teacher's pet, always raising your hand and answering questions, always assuring that you understood the objectives of an assignment, but today, you had chosen a desk in the back row closest to the wall. Your laptop was turned away from the student on your right, and although your notes were opened, and words had been added to the document that you’d started at the beginning of the semester, your iMessages were open just beside it.

Natasha | Daddy wants your mouth, princess. You’d be good and give me your mouth wouldn’t you? I know how much you love to be on your knees for me

Natasha | video attached

You knew you shouldn’t open it, not when it was so clearly a video of her masturbating if the preview shot was any indication of its content. You knew you should just turn all of your devices on Do Not Disturb and focus on the professor, who was going over questions about the latest chapter assigned as homework, but all logical thoughts, ironic because you were currently in your advanced logics lecture, had completely fallen away from you. It had been eleven hours of teasing. Eleven hours of wet panties and sensitive nipples and Natasha’s pussy in your face but not actually. It had been eleven full hours of pure torture, and you were at your breaking point.

You closed your laptop softly, making the humbling decision to shuffle past all the other students in your row to excuse yourself to the bathroom. You’re sure it looked like you were having some kind of female emergency with how fast you were moving, but in a way, you were. Only, it wasn’t a result of a miscalculated period, but rather an evil dominant who had worked you up so horridly that you were willing to sacrifice your academics just to beg her for release.

The private bathroom was located in the basement, you had to shuffle down three flights of stairs just to reach it, but you would die before you got caught sexting in the bathroom on the same floor as your lecture, so you hurried down to the basement and hoped that it was free. At least some higher power was looking out for you, because you found that the light was off and when you knocked on the door, nobody had answered. You squirmed your way inside, locking the door before you pulled open your messages and played the video.

It was short, only ten seconds, but in that ten seconds you had seen the beginning of a beautiful orgasm. Natasha’s fingers hammered into her pussy, the palm of her hand making contact with her clit every time she pushed three of her fingers back into herself. Her arousal coated the digits in thick strings, and when she’d cum, when she pushed herself over the edge, you groaned aloud at not only the moan that tumbled past her lips, but the sight of her orgasm spilling around her fingers. You had seen Natasha squirt on a handful of occasions. Usually it happened when she had you eating her out time and time again. You wondered how long she’d been laid in bed for to have reached such a high, and briefly you wondered if Wanda had anything to do with it. There was not a doubt in your mind that Wanda was just as much a tease as Natasha, and the prospect of the most powerful women you know going back and forth so desperately caused another violent pang of pleasure to shoot through your core.

You pushed your pants down, letting them scrunch together at your ankles, not caring about how they brushed against the bathroom floor. You were too desperate to mind the germs, but they would be going in the garbage the second you got back to the Maximoff residence. For now, they’d just have to be fine.

You widened your stance just enough to get your camera between your thighs. The baby blue panties that you wore were absolutely drenched, beyond the state of Natasha’s if that were even possible. Every inch of your intimacy was a visible outline from how they pressed against you, and while you should’ve been embarrassed, you hadn’t even been touched and you were the wettest you’ve probably ever been, you didn’t care.

You | image attached

You | Look what you did, Daddy.

Natasha | Oh, I bet that feels so icky, baby

You | Please let me touch myself

Natasha | My dirty little slut wants to touch herself in a public bathroom? She can’t even wait until she gets home?

You | I’ve been waiting all day! Please Daddy, it aches!

You | image attached

You should’ve felt shame. You should’ve been disgusted with your desperation, but there wasn’t even an ounce of care left in you as you pulled your panties to the side. Two of your fingers swept through your folds, collecting arousal on the tips of your fingers. They glistened in the light, and much like Natasha’s arousal had done in the video she sent, strings of your need attached your dripping cunt to your digits. You hadn’t touched yourself, not technically at least. Your clit throbbed in protest when you narrowly avoided it, and it took all of your self restraint not to throw caution to the wind and give yourself the slightest bit of relief. You would much rather appease Natasha though, and so you hadn’t even made the briefest moment of contact.

Natasha | Oh that does look like quite the sticky situation, baby. Why don’t you be a good girl for Daddy and suck those fingers clean

You moaned at her words, even if they were just white letters on your phone screen. You could practically hear her voice in your head, requesting you to taste yourself for her, asking you to be good. You complied without hesitance, bringing your fingers up to your mouth, your tongue out and waiting for the treat even if you would much rather it be her you're tasting. Before you let them lay heavy on your tongue, you took a picture and sent it to her, because if you were going to be vulgar in your college bathroom, it needed to be for something. You tasted how you always do, but you forced yourself to imagine it was her lips you were tasting and not your own fingers. She loved making out after she had gone down on you, and secretly, so did you.

Natasha | Good girl.

Natasha | Those fingers all nice and clean?

You | Yes, Daddy

Natasha | Good. Pull your panties back up and wash your hands, baby. You’ve still got thirty minutes left of class.

Your jaw practically hit the floor at her response, and you whined in defeat, not wanting to listen to her. You’d been so good for her all day and she was still making you wait? What could she possibly do from across the ocean anyways? Briefly, you’d forgotten about her promise of withholding orgasms until summer break, but when that threat came back to mind, you quickly did as asked, hating that now you were even more uncomfortable. This was supposed to help, not make everything worse.

You | I want to play, Daddy!

Natasha | You’ve been good all day baby, don’t ruin it now. Panties up, hands washed. I want you back in class in the next three minutes if I’m even going to consider letting you edge yourself tonight

Natasha | Or maybe you would like a ruined orgasm more

You | No! Please no Daddy!

Natasha | Then you’ll go back to class and you won’t sneak away again.

The forty minute drive back to Westview felt like hours. By the time that you eventually pulled into the driveway and parked behind Natasha’s car, the days sunlight only lingering behind storm clouds now, your leggings were damp and clinging to your core just as uncomfortably as your panties had been for the last few hours. You were absolutely certain that if there weren’t two material barriers between your legs, that your car seats would be stained with evidence of your arousal. You’d have had a hard time explaining that the next time you got the vehicle detailed, but if that had been the case, you would’ve just burnt the entire car to avoid the looks of judgment you were sure to have received.

The front door was unlocked when you entered, an indication that Wanda had only arrived home a couple minutes before you had. Ever since your appearance on the fifth day of Natasha’s absence, she’d started leaving the door unlocked for you, not wanting another repeat of you stuck outside. You knew it made her feel vulnerable, and at one point you had tried to tell that while you appreciated the thought, she could continue to lock the door after she got in. Wanda didn’t budge on the matter, not that you were surprised, and so you just had to accept the fact that the front door would remain open for anyone to pass through until you got inside to lock the house up tight. It amazed you how Natasha’s presence could mean so much. The woman could hold her own in a fight, you didn’t doubt that, but you hadn’t realized just how much Wanda put her safety into her hands. It only further solidified the already known fact that they were perfect for each other.

Wanda was in the kitchen, already working on dinner, when you dropped your backpack on the floor and inched your way closer to her. The desperate ache between your legs was unbearable now, and every step reminded you of your unfulfilled desire. Wanda looked perfectly put together as she stood by the stove, stirring something in a pot that you hoped was sauce for her spaghetti. Even though you couldn’t see her face from where she was standing, it was clear in her posture that she was fairing well with Natasha’s teasing. You wondered if she had taken her pleasure into her own hands at some point during the day, or if she was once again just better than you at concealing her true feelings.

“I take it back.” You muttered weakly, stealing the glass of water that the redhead had been just about to reach for. It was cold, probably fresh from the filter in the fridge, and you gulped it down greedily. “Your wife is the scary one.”

Wanda laughed although you found nothing funny about this situation. “What did she threaten you with?”

“Which time!” You threw your hands out in exasperation, careful to keep hold of the now empty glass so it didn’t smash into a million tiny shards on the floor if you were to lose your grip on it. “Because at first it was no orgasms until summer break! Then it was edging! And then it was ruined orgasms! I did exactly what she asked, and she’s still being all scary and mean! She sent me a video of her cumming while I was in class!”

“Did she now?” Wanda quirked a single brow in your direction, and you knew that you had gotten your dominant in trouble simply from the way her jaw clenched at the relay of information. In the months that you’ve been in this situation with Natasha, you learned that Wanda was serious about education, a real stickler even. She always droned on and on about the importance of paying attention and taking adequate notes, you should’ve known that she wouldn’t appreciate knowing her wife had distracted you with a video of her pleasure.

“Um, no?” You tried to backtrack, tried to save Natasha’s ass even though she had done nothing in your favor since you’d woken up that morning. Your cheeks flushed as you avoided her eye, suddenly finding the floor much more interesting than her stare.

“Wanna try that again?” Wanda hummed, but you knew it wasn’t really a choice. You’re pretty sure that you audibly gulped as you contemplated your options, ultimately deciding that if anybody's ass had to be on the line, you would rather it be Natashas.

“She did.” You whispered. “But she made me go back to class! That’s when she threatened to make me edge myself or ruin my orgasm.” You added, your cheeks burning a fierce shade of red as you avoided Wanda’s eye. Both women found it cute how flushed you still got whenever anything even remotely kinky was discussed. Despite her annoyance, this moment was no exception.

Wanda hummed thoughtfully, nodding her head as if Natasha’s threat satisfied her. “Good. You shouldn’t have left class at all. I’d be making you spank yourself.”

“I– Do you– Do you make Natasha spank herself?” You spluttered over your words, hardly even able to imagine the redhead on the receiving end of a spanking.

“No. Your Daddy enjoys that far too much.” Wanda laughed, almost as if she found your curiosity insulting to Natasha. You knew she had a pain kink, that was very much obvious when she asked you to pinch her nipples harder on the rare occasion that she made you ride her strap, but you couldn’t imagine enjoying a spanking that was intended to be a punishment. “You on the other hand, start running away from her hand by the fifth spank. You wouldn’t last three if I told you to do it yourself.”

Despite your mortification at Wanda’s admission, a pang of arousal shot through your core at the thought of receiving a spanking, especially from her. You were quick to scrub that fantasy from your brain, not even wanting to entertain it. Even if you had moved past your hatred for her, you refused to admit that she was slowly growing on you. That was just too much to accept right now.

“Stop!” You whined, hunching over the counter and attempting to hide your face against the cold counter. Your cheeks had had a permanent flush to them all day, no thanks to Natasha, but you were certain that they were fire engine red now. Even the tips of your ears carried a warmth that wouldn’t vanish until you found some relief, but Natasha had been radio silent since sending you back to class, and you almost wondered if she would even reappear again before she turned in for the night. You would kill her if she left you high and dry like this.

A shriek of surprise left your lips at the sharp sensation that spread through your left ass cheek when Wanda’s palm collided with it over the thin fabric of your leggings. You’d only barely managed to contain your moan, but there’s no way she’d missed the way your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. Your back straightened instinctively and your head whipped around to find her, only to groan at the smirk of satisfaction on her lips at the sight of you. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth, your eyes were dilated and almost entirely black, and your thighs, oh your thighs were the most telling. You pinched them together desperately, attempting to find any semblance of release.

“What was that for?” You whined, your hand shooting back to rub at the spot that was beginning to ache. You wouldn’t be surprised if her handprint lingered on your skin well into the early hours of tomorrow morning. Your voice is painfully high pitched and needy despite your best efforts to keep your composure, and it merely makes Wanda laugh about the effect a simple spank has on you.

“Who said I needed a reason?” Wanda shrugged her shoulders, but there was something wicked in her eyes. “You’ve had plenty of questions for me today, who says I don’t have my own?”

“You could’ve just asked!” You stomped your foot, officially at your breaking point with their combined teasing. Your eyes glimmered with unbridled tears, and your core throbbed needily, but neither of them seemed too concerned with your desperation, not enough to stop at least. “I’m going to change.” You pouted, stomping past Wanda, abandoning your backpack to be dealt with later.

Hours later, you found yourself laid in bed, your eyes wide in disbelief as you laid on your back and tried your hardest to keep your hands still at your sides. You and Wanda had eaten dinner in near silence, but the spaghetti was good, and you’d helped with the dishes afterward. Neither of you were feeling rather talkative, and that could be chalked up with the fact that Natasha had started her shit again. She poked at Wanda first, and you were thankful for the break of being her center of attention. The lawyer's phone had buzzed from where it was kept in her backpocket during meals if she was wearing jeans. Both of you knew who it was, and Wanda had reached for her phone without a moment of hesitation. It seemed that the both of you were properly whipped for the Russian, because had that text been from anyone else Wanda would’ve ignored it until dinner was over and conversations were finished. It had taken her only a matter of seconds to get into her phone, and you knew it must’ve been sexual based on the way her cheeks flushed and she furiously typed back a response. You were curious about what Natasha had sent her, curious about if you were receiving the same messages throughout the day, but you didn’t have to wait for much longer because your phone pinged next, and Wanda shot you a low warning beneath her breath.

That had been two hours ago, and since then, Natasha had disappeared, leaving you with only strict orders not to touch yourself and the lingering promise of getting your reward soon. You were naked in the guest bed, dripping onto the sheets beneath your body, writhing in anticipation. The house had been silent since both you and Wanda finished dinner, but now the house was filled with her moans. Her moans. Wanda's moans. You’ve seen her and Natasha makeout before. You’ve heard her shakily exhale, groan aloud, you’ve even heard her curse out profanities in Russian when Natasha did something particularly seductive, but you’ve never heard her moan. That felt too intimate, too wrong, but now that you were hearing them you couldn’t deny how sweet they sounded. Was she fingering herself? Was she using a vibrator or fucking a dildo so deep into her pussy that she could feel every groove and crevice against her walls? Were the sheets wet with arousal beneath her body like they were yours, or could she somehow manage to avoid leaking like a waterfall at just a whisper of praise from Natasha? The list of endless possibilities that could be occurring in the room next to yours were driving you mad, and the longer you were forced to listen to her chase her release, only amplified the cravings for your own pleasure.

You blindly reached out for your phone, squinting when it initially blinded you before your eyes adjusted to the light. You opened Natasha’s contact quickly,ready to plead and beg and cry for her to give in.

You | I can hear Wanda

You | Please Daddy, can I touch myself? I’ve been so good, please

Natasha | Aw, is hearing Wanda moan turning you on, princess?

You | Yes! Please Daddy! I want to cum, please!

You almost sobbed in relief when your screen flashed with Natasha’s contact picture, and you didn’t hesitate to raise the phone to your ear after you had swiped to accept the call. Her gravely voice was soft, too soft, soft enough to suggest that she knew damn well how frustrated and desperate you were for her, and that she was simultaneously aware of how it was all her fault. You thought for a second that she felt bad for being so cruel, but there was a lingering trace of smugness in her voice that completely went against your first assumption.

“Hi, baby.” She greeted you sweetly. You noticed that the wind was blowing past her as she spoke to you. You wondered if she was on the beach, surrounded by strangers and business partners, or if she was simply out on the balcony attached to her suite. Wherever she was, you wished that you were with her.

“Daddy!” You sobbed, both because you had missed her voice in the last three days, and because knowing you finally had her undivided attention had worsened the moisture collecting between your legs. “Please Daddy!”

“What do you want, baby? Use your words for Daddy.” Natasha cooed, and you fisted the sheets at your sides in frustration, writhing on the bed.

The words tumbled past your lips without care for how you sounded. You knew Wanda could hear you from the master bedroom, but you had not a single care for your dignity as you pleaded with your dominant to let you cum. “Please! Please can I touch myself! Please!”

“You wanna touch yourself, dorogay?” Natasha hummed, and although she couldn’t see you, you violently nodded your head in affirmation. Your babbled pleads were enough of an answer, because seconds later she was directing you to pinch your nipples for her. Despite not being the stimulation you desperately needed, you would take it, and you rolled your pebbled buds between your pointer finger and thumb needily. “Good girl, milaya. You sound so pretty for Daddy. I bet that sweet pussy is just begging for attention, isn’t it? Are you all wet, precious?”

“Yes! Yes! Daddy please! I’m so wet! I can’t– I need– Daddy please don’t tease! Don’t tease!” You sobbed out, your back arching off the bed as you continued to alternate between your nipples and pinch and twist them at the pace you know Natasha would’ve set if she was here to do it herself.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. Daddy teased you all day, didn’t she?” Natasha’s voice was thick with faux pity, and her tone only worked against you as you clambered to draw in a decent breath of air whilst also focusing on her instructions.

“Yes! Yes! Please! Please! Daddy, I can’t–, I can’t–, please!”

“Okay baby, okay. You’re being such a good girl for me, detka. Touch your pussy baby. Not your clit, not yet. Just use your fingers, how many do you want, sweet girl? Do you want two? Two fingers in that pretty pussy?” Natasha gently guided you through the motions, and you cried out in relief when you felt the stretch of your fingers. Your pussy was gushing, crying for attention, but finally you were allowed to grant the wish it had been begging for all day. There was no slowing your pace. The second your fingers had dipped between your thighs, your pace was punishing, and though you still held the phone up to your ear with the hand that wasn’t between your legs, you were sure Natasha could hear the wet sounds that filled the air around you. “Does that feel good, baby? Use your words and tell Daddy how it feels.”

“G-Good.” You cried out, but even with your fingers working the soft spot within your walls, it wasn’t enough. Your release was just out of reach and the only thing that could send you over the edge was her explicit permission to touch your clit, to finally give the pulsating nerve some love and attention. “D-Daddy please! My clit! M-My clit! Please please please!” Your mindless babbling seemed to have broken her tough reserve, and gently Natasha cooed her approval.

“Touch your clit for me, baby. You don’t have to ask, you just cum when you want to. You were such a good girl today. Daddy didn’t think you could make it all day, you made me so proud, angel. So so proud. Make yourself cum, cum on your fingers for Daddy.” Natasha didn’t need to see your face to know that you were growing closer and closer to the edge, she could hear it in your moans as they spilled from your lips and down the phone line. “Yeah? You’re getting so close aren’t you, getting so close for Daddy. Cum for me, milaya. Cum for Daddy.”

“Fuck fuck fuck! Daddy!” You cried, your back arching off the bed as you finally let the coil snap in your belly. Wanda’s moans of pleasure had increased within the same second, and your cheeks flushed realizing that Natasha’s plan all along had been to get the two of you to orgasm in tandem. “Thank you.” You croaked when you finally came down from you high, your body positively spent and your throat sore.

“You did so good for me, malyshka.” You can hear the smile in her tone, and you melt into the blankets and sheets beneath you as you accept the weight of her words. “You sleepy, baby? You’ve had a long day.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, hating the fact that you wouldn’t last another handful of minutes before you fell asleep on her. “Go get cleaned up, please. Daddy will be home soon, I can’t wait to see my good girl.”

“I miss you.” You sighed softly, already starting to pull your body out of bed. You didn’t want to move, but you’d been so good all day, you wanted to make her proud down to the very last second.

“I miss you too, angel. Wanda’s told me how good you’re being. Daddy has a surprise for you when she gets home.” Natasha promises, and had you been any more awake then you are now, you would’ve begged her to know what she had, but you merely hummed and went through the motions of brushing your teeth, going to the bathroom, and cleaning up your thighs.

The sheets were the least of your concern, and you collapsed into the center of the bed, not even bothering with clothes as you snuggled into the blankets and let your eyes flutter closed, falling asleep in seconds with Natasha still on the line.

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