#still not confident drawing men but this feels okay??

[itsabouttimex2]

I hope this isn't an odd question

But, do you think Wukong or Macaque would act or treat different their "cub" if they genders were swapped or being a female version? This is also for a Yan behavior

I don't know too much about how is the raising of a monkey from the father and mother so I was curious with this since they're both mystical demons

I was thinking about this when I saw some fanarts from the artist @/car_nimbus on Twitter, they made a neat versions of the characters with another gender

Monkey Mama

(Hmm okay let me build a hypothetical OG “Female Monkey King” to work off of here and then I’ll try to translate that into LMK’s SWK. Also, I’ll probably make a second variation of this afterwards with other characters, haha. This got a little long to do both SWK and Mac!)

Sun Wukong as a character is already heavily defined by rebellion and personal choice, so I think that making him a girl only really compounds that layer of his character.

In many older narratives, female characters are often expected to be more obedient or modest than men, and very frequently only exist as prizes or, more rarely, villains. A female Sun Wukong; assuming she plays the same role as her original incarnation, defies the expectations of how “traditional” women should behave, shirking the demure and passive “ideal” and adding another layer of rebellion to her character.

(JTTW is actually pretty great in terms of female representation, with characters ranging from the perpetually good Quanyin, the eventually repentant Princess Iron Fan, and the straight up evil White Bone Spirit. I’m a big fan of how the women aren’t slid into any one “role” throughout the story.)

I think: in story, she’d likely be viewed as a sort of “anomaly”—a woman too strong, too outspoken, and too unwilling to conform to typical feminine ideals. Her defiance and arrogance might be viewed as even more scandalous by the Celestial Realm.

Instead of being made a “stable-keeper”, I think probably she’s sent to whatever Heavenly Scullery exists in that divine realm, and put to work very quickly. She would treat this “job” with indifference or even amusement at first-after all, physical labor or menial tasks don't diminish her self-worth or confidence! She’s had a life of hard work, leading an army of Yaoguai, cultivating Flower Fruit Mountain,

So she’s fine with this… at first. Then it turns out that the food she makes with her fellow low-class workers isn’t distributed amongst the people making it, but plated up nice and pretty for a bunch of “stuffy old gods” who didn’t lift a finger! Bullshit!

So obviously, the prideful Monkey Queen goes on a destructive rampage in regards to the unfair disparity of treatment, then storms back down to Earth to throw a “feel-better” party with her fellow Yaogaui.

(Which isn’t just a party, but a symbolic reclaiming of joy and community, with her monkey tribe representing the freedom she craves and the earthly bonds she prefers over heavenly authority. It's not just an escape, but a statement of independence.)

After an extensive set of repairs, the Court sends down someone to drag her back, because, you know, the local super-powered monkey is back on the loose, and that’s not exactly great for them. This time, they offer her a “better” role- she gets to become an official Peach Maiden, lucky her!

Of course, it’s just another form of entrapment, but within a prettier cage. Even though she's given a cushier position, it's a veneer- she's still being silenced, controlled, and stripped of her freedom. The role played by a Peach Maiden is an inversion of Wukong's essence, as these women are happily serving the role of passive caretakers, nurturing with gentle smiles—a direct contrast to the free-willed, brash nature of the Monkey Queen.

(And while there’s nothing wrong with being demure, passive, and feminine, having people try to force her into that role is where Sun Wukong draws her line.)

Here, she is expected to watch in silence as others revel in the freedom and power denied to her. It's a different kind of prison, one that quietly erodes her spirit. When the Celestial Court tries to reintegrate her as a Peach Maiden, they are once again attempting to place her into a docile, decorative role, one that strips away her power and independence. Those immortal peach orchards, a symbol of immortality and divine favor, becomes a prison for her.

Surrounded by "ideal" women who embody the quiet, submissive role she despises, the Monkey Queen finds herself chafing under the pressure of conformity. Her energy, once boundless and chaotic, is now caged, and the simmering resentment builds.

The buildup to her inevitable rebellion after being made a Peach Maiden, then, becomes a very sympathetic moment because it's not just a rejection of the role forced on her, but a rejection of the very system that tries to diminish who she is at her core. Her rebellion isn’t about anger and shame- it’s about reclaiming her true self after having been suffocated by the expectations of the Celestial Court. Her rampage becomes an assertion of her identity as something that can't be confined by heavenly rules or social mores.

The Court, in its attempt to “contain" her, only fuels her defiance further, leading her once again to rebel.

It was never going to end well. But it ends all the same, and punishment is to be levied to the Queen, just the same as any other rebellious rule-breaker... actually, probably harsher.

There’s “you broke our rules and tried to lead a coup”, then there’s “you did all that, and we also find your very person to be wrong on a fundamental level”, and then she gets the book thrown at her twice over.

But! Then she meets Tang Sanzang, who sees something in her that neither the Celestial Realm nor her own band of Sworn Brothers saw. Not a heretic simian savaging a holy realm. Not a Queen to rally behind for their own gain.

But a lost soul in need of guidance.

And from there the Great Monk works on building Sun Wukong up as a person instead of leading her astray or trying to cut massive chunks of her personality out? And talks to her about the things she cares about? And teaches her about all the things she missed after spending five hundred years under a rock?

And then she meets Zhu Baije, who starts out a little too happy and carefree about having a beautiful woman around, but eventually comes to smash open heads when Wukong is disrespected, because that’s not just a hot woman, that’s his sister?

Or Sha Wujing, who helps her with even the smallest things, from trimming her claws to cutting her wild hair to preparing meals for the monk? And lets her perch on his shoulders and head so the queen can get some skinship in?

Then Ao Lie, who is every bit the “disappointment to the world at large” that she was considered? And they take turns braiding each other’s hair and wiping the mess from the other’s face, and sleeping in the same tent and same bedroom because it’s less effort?

She gets a dad and three little brothers?

She gets a family.

And then loses it and is alone again for several hundred years more.

So if we go with this theoretical “My natural existence has been rejected for being seen as ‘improper’ by a court of stuffy traditional assholes” and then “I dearly love/miss my dead found family” angle, I think she’d be portrayed as a very different sort of character in LMK.

She’s quicker to lash out and defend herself, and much less willing to sit around and let the world pass her by- because that’s what was demanded of her by the Celestial Realm.

Be good. Be quiet. Be demure. Be obedient. Be anything except you.

I don’t think she’d be as willing to “rest on her laurels” as her canon counterpart, given that a “quiet boring life” was what she had fought so very hard to escape in the first place, so instead of isolating herself from the world in the first place, she probably sets up a little “souvenir shop” at the foot of Flower Fruit Mountain, taking a human form to sell little knick-knacks that herald to the journey she undertook with her old friends.

In part, this is how Wukong works to honor them. To spread their legacy. To ensure that they aren’t forgotten, left as a footnote in the annals of history. To remember them.

In part, it’s how she justifies all the mistakes she’s made and the suffering she’s been through. Settling in to a pointlessly relaxed life is exactly what she fought against, after all. She’s heavily fallen into the “sunk-cost fallacy”, where giving up and settling in, to her, means “losing”. It means “everything I went through was all for nothing”. So she keeps at this little store instead of just retiring and isolating herself from the world, even though she’d be happier to ditch it and lounge about.

So when MK and his eccentric bunch of friends comes around with their boundless energy and mischief, she immediately goes, “Oh, okay! This is what I wanted!”

(It’s not. All she’s ever wanted is her friends back. How could there be anything else?)

The Monkie Kids are vibrant, eccentric, and full of qualities that immediately resonate with Wukong. They remind her of the energy, camaraderie, and sense of adventure that she once shared with her old companions. She sees MK's arrival not just as a chance to teach someone a few of her old tricks, but as an echo of her own life—a life she hasn't been able to truly let go of.

So she starts projecting- on the surface, MK is very much like her. He's spirited, good-natured, and curious- and reckless. Just like she was. Wukong latches onto this quickly, sort of using the kid as a proxy for herself. After all, if she can't go back to her old life, why not embrace a new one that feels close enough? In some ways, this marks her refusal to accept the passage of time, a desperate clinging to the hope that, through MK, she can rekindle the connections she once cherished.

However, underneath that initial enthusiasm is the repressed understanding that MK, despite his similarities to her younger self, cannot truly replace what she lost. The friends she fought beside, the battles they waged together, and the lessons they learned are unique, irreplaceable moments in her life. No matter how much MK’s gang reminds her of the past, he and his friends a stand-in for the companions she still longs for. But her deep desire to reconnect with her old friends clouds her ability to see MK for who he truly is: his own person, on his own journey.

It takes her a while to get to that point, though. So she’s more doting and affectionate, in a way that somewhat stifles her student’s training because she wants to be both her old carefree self and also a good mentor, and the two just get jumbled.

Sidenote: I think with the difference in actions and behavior, MK would be more open to viewing Fem!Wukong as a parental figure than the OG, especially since he doesn’t really have someone to fulfill that “mom” role.

For their dynamic, I think something like this would be the outcome:

———————————————————————-

The afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, painting the landscape in hues of varied orange and blue. With a tired hand, MK wipes the sweat from his brow.

He’s perched on one of the rocky spires dotting Flower Fruit Mountain, gazing at the view with a small smile of accomplishment. Training had been intense lately… if only because he had been doubling down on the time he spent practicing, without giving as much care to rest or aftercare.

After all, even though his powers were blooming steadily… his enemies also were growing in power and quantity, leading to the ever-creeping edge of fear that anything less than a constant one-hundred percent just wouldn’t be “enough”.

And right as he reaches back to grab the golden staff he has inherited from the Monkey Queen-

“MK! I told you to take a break, not run off to do more training!”

Her voice, uncharacteristically sharp, cuts through the formerly tranquil air, causing MK to jump. He turns just in time to see Sun Wukong strolling toward him, her hands on her hips and a look of mock annoyance on her face.

MK grinned sheepishly, shifting his grass-stained boots against the dirt. “I was just, you know… checking out the view.”

She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement as her eyes narrowed in annoyance. This kid... “Uh-huh. Checking out the view or sneaking in some practice when I wasn’t looking?”

Caught fast in his lie, MK rubbed the back of his neck, face scrunching up in embarrassment. “Maybe a little of both?”

In spite of herself, Sun Wukong quietly laughs, the sound echoing like a chiming bell through the mountain. Her long, golden hair flowed behind her in the wind, each strand catching the light like molten fire. Despite her legendary status- the rebellious warrior who’d fought the heavens and nearly won!- there was a warmth to her that MK had come to cherish.

“All work and no play, MK,” she said, sitting beside him on the rock and ruffling his hair with a fondness that always made him feel like a little kid again. “You’ll burn out before you get anywhere.”

He looked at her, eyes shining with admiration. “But you never stop training. You’ve been at this for centuries! I just…”

A pause, as his chest turns over, unsettled by the notion of opening up. But… it’s the Monkey Queen. So it.. should be okay, right?

“I want to make you proud.”

Sun Wukong’s expression softens, and she wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling the boy close in a tight embrace. “You already make me proud, kid. You don’t have to prove anything.”

MK leaned into the touch, feeling a wave of comfort wash over him. Even from the start she’d been like this with him- protective, nurturing… and maybe a bit overbearing at times. But he didn’t mind. It made him feel safe, like no matter what challenges lay ahead, he wasn’t alone.

MK chuckled, turning his face up to meet his idol’s eyes.” I’ll keep up,” he triumphantly declares, pumping a fist.” I promise.”

“Good.” Wukong shifted, her clawed hand lightly missing his spiked locks. “Now, how about we head back to the shop and grab something to eat? You’ve earned it.”

MK’s stomach growled at the mention of food, and he nodded so eagerly that she wondered if his head wouldn’t ache from the motion. “You know, I won’t say no to a good meal.”

The Monkey Queen stood up, dusting off her mentee’s clothes before offering him a hand. “Of course you won’t. C’mon, my treat.”

———————————————————————-

Now, to answer your question about how she acts in regards to her own cub… in general I think she’s much more doting than the OG, willing to express herself through constant displays of physical affection, in ways that are far more varied.

Constant forehead smooching, cuddles, grooming sessions, all of it! Mama Wukong never wants to let go of her baby! Sit down and let her paint your nails! Let her comb and braid your hair! Let her make you a nice lunch (loaded with mystical drugs to keep you nice and sleepy for extra cuddles), or at least a filling snack! Let her pepper your face with kisses as she spins you in her powerful arms!

Lots and lots of indulgent fluffy days of binging unhealthy foods and watching cozy reruns of old shows, your head in her lap as she hums and does up your hair with her lazy hands.

Lots of reminiscing about old suitors as she considers the quietest and quickest ways to kill anyone who makes the futile attempt to pursue you in the same way.

Despite her obsessive behavior, Wukong struggles with conflicting feelings about wanting her child to be strong and independent, just like her! She pushes you to train hard and become powerful, but when you inevitably seek their own freedom or autonomy, she’d experience a mix of pride and heartbreak, pushing her deeper into possessive tendencies.

If you ever tried to leave or even just start to break away, Wukong’s worst traits would bubble up like hellfire. Just as she fought against an entire realm’s authority, she would absolutely wage a war to keep her child close, all while justifying her actions as love.

The Monkey Queen is also more willing to take routes outside of brute force if it means securing extra protection for Y/N. If Macaque or maybe Azure (or someone else like Erlang Shen) wants to try and play “suitor”, well, she’s not too interested… until the thought arises that having him around makes you extra safe! And then she’s willing to think on it.

(That’s assuming that you aren’t one of their biological kids to begin with, in which case there might be a sort of “yandere triangle”. Azure/Macaque/Erlang Shen doing his damndest to reclaim his wife, before he learns that she’s had a child while he was gone... or maybe Pigsy and Tang decided that MK needs his mentor in a more ‘accessible’ position, and plot to drag her to Megapolis…)

Lots of potential monkey mama shenanigans, basically!

[organiccats]

kneeling at your altar

[imaginedisish]

Heart to Heart (Logan Howlett x F!Reader)

A/N: Okay...here's that car sex request. This one is like pure smut with some exposition. Like...plot...what plot? Listened to "Heart to Heart" by Mac DeMarco while writing this one. Kinda fits. Not quite sure how I'm churning these out so quickly...so I hope this doesn't suck. And! Most importantly: I hope this lives up to the requester's expectations. Enjoy guys!

Summary: Logan doesn't seem like himself on the car ride up to Lake George to meet the other X-Men for the weekend, and you're not going to leave him alone until you find out why (it's car sex, the whole fic is basically just rough car sex).

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MINORS DNI, Unprotected PIV (WRAP IT UP!), Oral (f!receiving), fingering, rough sex, fem!reader, AFAB!reader (no other major physical descriptions that I can think of), cursing, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, feelings, pre-relationship (I am a sucker for writing first times), probably some grammatical errors, think that's everything.

Word Count: 3124 this was supposed to be a blurb im not joking

Logan’s hands firmly grip the steering wheel, white-knuckling, fingers wound around the curved leather. Your eyes flicker between his face and his hands.  

He had been like this since the drive to Lake George started. You and Logan were meeting the rest of the X-Men up there—Charles arranged some sort of weekend getaway. You and Logan would be the last ones to arrive, having just gotten off from a mission. 

But something was off about him. He was silent, eyes dead set on the road. The sun had long set, but you still had two hours of the drive to go. You look out the window to a world asleep, lights out, families in beds. You look back at Logan; his face is completely unchanged. 

“Logan?” You mumble, shifting in your seat to face him. Your already-short shorts hike up your thighs, revealing more of the skin underneath. You don’t think twice about placing your hand on his bare shoulder, brushing his exposed skin with your thumb. “You okay?” You ask, but he ignores you. You’re not letting this go. He’s been like this for far too long, and you’re sick of not knowing why. “Are you mad at me?”

“What?” Logan finally lets go of the wheel a bit, his eyes flickering briefly to you and then back to the road. “No, of course not.”

“Then what’s the matter?” If he was going to be stubborn, you were going to be stubborn, too. “You can tell me, Lo.”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening on the wheel again. Your hand trails down to his bicep, lingering for longer than you should before stroking back up to his shoulder. You draw circles into his skin, hoping to relax him, but it only seems to work him up. His throat bobs, and you catch him peeking at you out of the corner of his eye. 

You’re not sure where the confidence comes from, but before you can even think of stopping yourself, your fingers gently glide up to the nape of his neck, your nails digging into his hair lightly. Logan groans softly, the sound sparking a fire in your belly. You push it down, reminding yourself that this is just an innocent moment between friends—nothing more. 

“You gonna tell me what the matter is now?” You chide, smirking, thinking you have him exactly where you want him. You lean over a bit more, the air conditioning blasting against your bare legs. Your fingers are still buried in his hair. 

You see the moment when his expression shifts, when his head finally turns towards yours. His nostrils flare. You search his eyes frantically, your hand dropping back to your lap. “Logan I—” but you’re cut off by the feeling of his palm—of his long fingers—on your inner thigh. He keeps one hand firmly on the steering wheel as he swerves into the shoulder of the highway and off into the grass. 

He puts the car in park, keeping his eyes straight ahead, tightening his grip on your thigh and working his jaw as he thinks of what to say. You can feel the heat growing between your legs, a feeling you’ve long denied yourself while alone with Logan. Silence fills the air, the tension of it absolutely suffocating.  

And then Logan cuts through the quiet like a knife. “You have any idea how you make me feel?” He’s turned his body completely towards you now, as if he’s ready to pounce.  

You swallow harshly. “So, you are angry at me. Logan, I have no clue what I did, but I—”

“I’m not mad at you, sweetheart,” he mutters, lifting himself up slightly to maneuver closer to you. He’s practically climbing over the center console as his lips find the shell of your ear. “It’s just when I can smell how much you want me, and you start touching me like that…” He trails off, kissing your ear lightly. “Do you know what you fucking do to me?”

“Logan—”

He’s not finished. He’s cutting you off again. “I can’t concentrate when you’re around.” His hand slips further in between your thighs, and you shudder under his touch. “Can’t do anything except think about fucking you.” He’s slipping his hand up your shorts, feeling your folds through your panties. “Fuck, you’re soaked already, pretty girl.”

You moan as he teases you, playing with you, taking his time. “W-want you,” you stutter, grinding into his hand, searching for more friction. 

He’s got that familiar, cocky smile spread across his face. “I know you do, beautiful.” Even that lilt in his voice is cocksure. He’s teasingly pulling your panties to the side. You can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your folds, but he’s refusing to give you the relief you need. He’s the one driving you insane now. “You gonna let me fuck you in the backseat of this car?” 

“F-fuck,” you stutter as his fingers finally brush against your bare cunt. You throw your head back as he strokes languidly, lazily. Your words are caught in your throat. You can’t enjoy his touch for long as he pulls away from you. “W-wait,” you whine, sitting up and grabbing his hand. 

He smirks, that teasing grin still spread across his face. “Didn’t answer my question, pretty girl,” he says, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to your knuckles. He repeats himself: “You gonna let me fuck you in the backseat of this car?” You nod as he brings himself back to hover over you. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Yes,” you choke out. “Please. Need you so fucking bad.”

He doesn’t let a second go by before he’s wrapping his arms around you and shoving you into the backseat. You fall into the leather and watch as Logan opens the car door and briefly disappears into the darkness before opening the door next to you. He climbs inside, slamming the door behind him. 

He crawls over you, and you use your hips and forearms and back all the way into the door on the opposite side. 

He grabs your hips, keeping you in place, lowering down over you. “’Can hear that little heart beating all the fucking time,” he whispers, his lips inches from yours. His forearm rests by your head, while his free hand slips underneath your shirt and under your bra. His fingers graze over the swell of your tits as he settles his palm above your heart. “Need you, pretty girl.” His hand trails over to a nipple, pinching softly.

Logan swallows your moans with a desperate, starving kiss. His stubble is rough against your cheeks. His tongue slides across your bottom lip, asking for permission to come inside. You open up immediately for him, meeting his tongue with your own, savoring the taste of him. 

You bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, keeping his lips close to yours. You dig your nails into his scalp, raking through his hair. He groans into your mouth before briefly coming up for air. His chest heaves against yours. He’s a panting mess. You’ve never seen him this worked up. 

There’s something different in his eyes now. You can see the lust, the desire, the longing. But there’s something else there. Fear? Desperation? Hunger? He’s yanking your shirt and bra up and over your head before giving you the chance to think about it. He’s taking you in, his hot, solid, fervent hands exploring your body. He’s palming your breasts, pinching your nipples and messaging the pain away. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him tight against you. 

He instinctively recognizes what you’re doing. “’M’not going anywhere, I’ve got you.” He presses a chaste kiss just under your jawline. His nails trail down the side of your stomach, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. 

You can feel his erection against your core, rutting needily into you. You push your hips up to meet his, grinding against him, impatiently searching for more friction.

His hands finally land on the hem of your shorts, his fingers working at your button, and then your zipper. He hooks his fingers into your shorts and your panties, and yanks them down your legs, casting them to the floor. You think he’s going to come back up, but he crawls in between your legs, his eyes locked on yours. 

You can feel his hot breath fan over your aching cunt. His mouth is just centimeters away from where you need him most. 

“Wanna taste you,” he mumbles, his face inching closer to your core. 

You moan as he licks a stripe through your folds, and then another. “L-Logan.” Your hips come up and off the seat. One of his arms latches across your hips, holding you down. 

“Stay there,” he murmurs in between laps. “Tastes so fucking good.” You can’t stay still, squirming under his touch, he presses down harder, forcing you to stay in place. You can feel him smirk against your pussy as his mouth latches on to your clit, sucking the bud in roughly. 

You’re already close as his fingers start to swipe through your folds. “So fucking wet for me.” His words vibrate against your swollen clit. Two fingers prod at your entrance, slowly pushing inside. You’re squirming again, your pussy stretching out to fit around his long fingers. He chuckles against you, the feeling pushing you closer to the edge. 

“C-close,” is all you can stutter. 

Logan doesn’t slow down. “’M’not done with you yet, pretty girl,” he husks between desperate laps. His fingers pump in and out of you, your walls fluttering uncontrollably around him. “Doing so good for me, taking what I’m giving you.”

His words are making it harder to hang on. “C-can’t…” You trail off, your chest heaving. His face is buried deep inside your cunt, each flick, each suck, each thrust more feral and starving than the last. 

“You gonna come on my tongue, sweetheart?” He teases, knowing full well now what his words are doing to you. You clamp down on his fingers, his name a chant hanging in the air. “Let go for me, pretty girl. Wanna know what it tastes like.” 

You’re a stuttering mess, his words piercing that fire in your stomach, the heat flowing freely as he pulls your orgasm from you. The release feels so good, so right. Logan works you through it, his laps slowing down, becoming languid, like he’s savoring the taste of you. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. He pumps his fingers in and out a few more times before carefully pulling out of you. 

He sits up on his knees, sweat glistening on his chest, his hair a tussled mess. He holds out his fingers—covered with your come—and shoves them in his mouth, sucking hard. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. He lazily pulls them out, swallowing, his throat bobbing. “So fucking sweet,” he soothes. “Can’t get enough of you.”

And then he’s hurriedly ripping his beater off, undoing his belt, shoving his jeans and boxers down his legs. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock springing up to his stomach. You knew he’d be big, but fuck. 

“You sure you want this?” He whispers, his lips back at the shell of your ear. You bring your hips up to meet his and mumble a yes. 

He lines himself up with your entrance, nudging against you. You can tell he’s holding back, doing his all to take his time, to let this moment last. But you want him. You need him. Now. You arch your back, your chest rising to meet his, your pebbled nipples brushing against his bare skin. The contact feels so good, so warm. “Fuck me, Logan,” you beg. 

He curses under his breath, and suddenly he’s thrusting into you, sinking all the way in, bottoming out. He stays there, unmoving, letting you adjust to the length and girth of him. He’s so big, stretching you out so good. He’s deep already, pushing against your walls, hitting that spot where you need him most. 

“F-fuck.” His composure is melting. “Knew you’d feel perfect. So fucking beautiful like this, always so beautiful.” He pulls out and pushes all the way back in. You cry out his name, and he muffles it as his mouth comes crashing down onto yours. 

He lowers down onto his forearm, closing the gap between the two of you. His other hand grazes over your nipples, trailing down your stomach, slipping in between the place where your bodies connect. His fingertips find your clit, ghosting around the bud lightly, toying with you before drawing long, languid circles around it. 

His thrusts start out slow as he rolls his hips against yours, but he quickly builds up speed. He bottoms out with each pump, plunging deeply, working you open for him. 

“Could stay inside you forever,” he gasps between kisses, sweat coating his brow. “You still have no fucking clue what you do to me,” he whispers, his hips snapping into you. He’s fucking you into the leather, pounding harder, knocking the wind out of your chest. He flicks your clit again and again. He’s losing control in the best way. “Watching you all the time, not being able to touch you, to be with you.” His vulnerability contrasts deliciously with how rough he’s fucking into you. “Think about you all the time.” 

He swallows your whines with another starving kiss. “Always thinking about you, too,” you whimper. 

He smiles against your lips. “Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart. Want you to come on my cock.” It’s a command, the bass of his voice rumbling through his chest. You hum in affirmation, your eyes fluttering closed as pleasure courses through your body. “Want you to look at me when you come.” There’s that demand in his voice again, and so you force your eyes open. “Good girl,” he husks. “So fucking good.”

You’re crumbling underneath him, fighting to keep your eyes open as he pounds roughly into you, his fingers pinching your clit, then circling rapidly. You’re coming undone in his arms, digging your nails into his biceps as you let yourself go. He keeps rutting into you, his pace faltering as he nears his own orgasm. 

“Wanna come inside you,” his lips press against your forehead as he whispers the words. “Don’t wanna leave this pussy yet.”

You shiver underneath him, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “P-please,” you mumble.  “Fuck,” he trembles, painting your walls, filling you up. “So perfect,” he whispers, his head coming down to rest on your shoulder, pumping slower as he finishes. “So beautiful.” He kisses your shoulder as he stills, staying inside you for a moment. 

He carefully slides out of you, the sudden emptiness a shock to your system. You want him back, buried deep inside where he belongs. You involuntarily whine at the loss of him. He lifts himself up, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Later. We’ll do more later. ‘M’nowhere near done with you yet.” 

Logan separates from you, the hot, stuffy air of the car suddenly turning cold without him on top of you. He searches the floor of the backseat for your clothes. He worries about you first, helping you get back into your bra, panties, shorts, and top. You sit cross-legged once you’re done, watching him as he dresses himself. 

He smirks, sensing your eyes on him. “Still like what you see?” 

You can feel heat rise to your cheeks, suddenly embarrassed despite everything that just happened. “Always liked you.”

“Think what we just did warrants a little more than ‘like’ darlin’.” He’s right. It does. 

Once he’s dressed, he grabs your hand, opens the car door, and guides you out of the backseat and towards the other side of the car. He opens the passenger door for you, and you slip inside. He’s opening the driver’s side door and getting in a few seconds later, turning the key into the ignition, maneuvering the car out of the grass, and back onto the empty highway. 

He’s got his left hand on the steering wheel as his right comes down to your inner thigh, gripping tightly and pulling it closer to him. 

The rest of the drive is quiet, calm, Logan’s thumb occasionally brushing against your bare skin, reminding you of what he promised: later. 

You finally pull up to the cabin, surprised to see that some of the lights are still on. Logan gives your thigh one more squeeze before popping the trunk and exiting the car. You step out, and Logan already has your duffle bags in his hands. You walk shoulder to shoulder up to the porch of the cabin, your hand coming up to twist the doorknob and stepping inside. 

Storm, Charles, and Scott are in the living room, sitting around the fire, their heads snapping toward you and Logan. 

“What took you two so long to get here?” Storm asks, her brows raising incredulously. 

“Traffic.” Logan spits, his voice firm and unwavering. You hope the room can’t read the embarrassment on your face. 

“Yeah, sure, traffic, at one in the morning on a Thursday,” Scott teases. To your left, you can see your and Logan’s reflections in a nearby mirror. You’re disheveled and messy, but not terrible. And then, it suddenly dawns on you that Logan’s tank is inside out; you can’t help but grin at the sight. 

Charles smiles softly—knowingly. “You two can share one of the rooms upstairs, down the hall, last door on the left.” 

You watch as Logan catches his reflection in the mirror, his gaze quickly focusing on you instead, cocking his head up towards the stairs. 

His steps are hurried, and you try to catch up to him. He beats you to the top and leans in close to you as you finish the climb, his lips brushing the side of your head. “You’re in some massive fucking trouble, sweetheart,” he whispers, now holding the bags in one hand so that the other can snake around your waist. He shoves you down the hall with him. 

“What did I do?” You giggle as his fingers dig into your side. 

“You let me put my shirt on inside out.”

You smirk. “And what are you gonna do about it, bub?” You know he won’t like that last bit, but you want to see what he’ll do about it. 

“Remember when I told you I wasn’t done with you yet?” Your breath catches in your throat at his words. “Well, it’s later, darlin’.”

[verstappen-cult]

Hi Gwen, I really like your story. Can I ask for a lestappen x reader where they are going out together (shopping or date). Then when Max and Charles leave them for a bit, someone tries to hit on the reader but she's oblivious about it? Thank you!

“You think this would fit me?” You ask Charles, blue dress in hand. “But I want it in green.” Your boyfriend didn’t even have a chance to answer before you turned around, looking for something else. 

“I like how blue looks on you.” Max says, sitting next to an annoyed Charles. 

You’ve been shopping for the upcoming trip you’ve planned for summer break. They were excited to come with you at first, even though you insisted on going alone, so now they have a choice but to follow you around until you find everything you need. 

“That’s just because blue it’s your team color.” Charles huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “She looks prettier in Ferrari red.”

“Can you stop being so whiny?” Charles sticks his tongue out, leaning against Max. 

“Why don’t we go for something to drink, uh?” Your boyfriend says, wrapping an arm around the Monégasque’s shoulders. “Will you be okay?” 

“Can you get me an Iced Latte, please?” You look at him beneath your lashes as he stands up, dragging Charles with him. 

You decide to try on the blue dress just because Max likes it when you wear blue clothes. On your way to the changing room you spot a red strapless top and you grab it too. Making them happy is that easy. 

In the end, you like both items and there’s no doubt you’ll buy them, but you still want the dress in green. As you get out of the changing room, wanting to ask a saleslady if they have it in other colors, you bump into a young man which causes you to drop the clothes onto the floor. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” You’re quick to apologize. The stranger looks up from his cellphone, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. However, once he sees you, his expression relaxes and a smirk appears on his face. 

“Don’t worry. It was my fault, I was looking at my phone.” He crouches down in front of you, picking up the clothes. He scans the items very carefully before giving them back to you. “Good choice.”

“Thank you, I really like them.” You say, happy that someone thinks they’re pretty. Maybe he’ll buy them for his girlfriend too. 

“I’m sure you’ll look hot in that dress.”

You don’t know what to say or how to react. Most times you ignore what men say to you, other times you thank them when they have good intentions or you know they're fans that respect you. But this man doesn't give you good vibes, not with the way he’s smiling at you with his eyes running over every curve in your body. 

He takes a step closer, and you want to throw up. What kind of perfume is he using? 

“You can use it on our date.” He says it with so much confidence you want to laugh in his face, but you don’t do it because that wouldn’t be very wise of you. However, you still hear someone laughing behind you. 

You don’t have to turn around to see who it is, you can recognize that laugh anywhere. 

“Who told you she wants to go out with you?” You feel Max’s warm body behind you, his hand finding your waist in a very possessive way.

Charles keeps laughing, which is drawing the attention of everyone in the shop. 

“I’m sorry,” He says, wiping imaginary tears as he stands next to Max. “Does that really work out for you? Because it’s awful, mate.”

“You should really think about changing the way you approach women.” Max’s voice is dripping with venom, and you instinctively lean closer. 

“Waiting for them outside the changing room, really? Pretending to not see her?” Charles is not laughing anymore, he looks pissed. “She’s taken, by the way.”

The stranger looks between Charles and Max, recognition crossing his features. 

“I’m so sorry!” He apologizes, his whole attitude changing in a minute. “I wouldn’t dream of hitting on your girlfriend. Never.”

Max laughs, but ignores him. “Are you done, schatje?” 

“Yes, but I was trying to ask someone if they have it in green when… well.”

“Let’s go see, then.” Max gives you a pat on your ass, making you giggle and walk away from the still very shocked guy. 

“Oh,” Charles says, making you and Max turn around to see what’s happening. He’s a few feet away from the stranger, walking in your direction but looking at the man standing right where you left him. “Think about changing your perfume too. You stink.”

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : SILENT STORM : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Wade Wilson x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You, a quiet new recruit at Xavier’s Institute, secretly harbors feelings for the unpredictable Deadpool. When you’re unexpectedly assigned to share a room and a bed with him, the closeness forces both of you to confront your true feelings, leading to the start of a tender romance.

THE X-MANSION WAS NOT EXACTLY WHAT YOU EXPECTED. You had imagined a more rigid atmosphere, where the weight of the world pressed down on every mutant's shoulders. After all, the X-Men were heroes, their deeds legendary in the mutant community. Instead, you found a place brimming with warmth, camaraderie, and a kind of chaotic harmony that felt both welcoming and overwhelming.

Still, despite the friendly faces, you kept to yourself. Old habits died hard. It was easier to observe from the sidelines, where you could process everything without having to jump into the deep end. Besides, you were new here, and everyone already had their circles. You preferred the quiet company of your books and the familiar hum of your thoughts.

But all of that was about to change.

~

"Hey, new girl!"

You looked up from your spot on the couch in the common room, your book halfway open. The voice belonged to Wade Wilson, or as the rest of the mansion called him—Deadpool. He was a living whirlwind of chaos, energy, and unfiltered comments, all wrapped up in a red-and-black suit. And, if you were honest with yourself, he was the reason you often found yourself sneaking glances when you thought no one was looking.

"Uh, hi," you said, offering a small, somewhat awkward wave.

"What's up, quiet one?" he asked, plopping down beside you, much too close for comfort, but you didn't exactly mind. He had a way of invading personal space that somehow felt...inviting. "What'cha reading?"

You held up the book cover for him to see.

"A classic! A fellow intellectual, I see," he grinned, then leaned closer as if to whisper conspiratorially. "I'm more of a comic book guy myself, but hey, to each their own."

You couldn’t help but smile at that. It was impossible not to. His energy was infectious, and even though you tried to keep your distance, he made it difficult. Wade had this knack for drawing people out, whether they wanted to be drawn out or not.

"So, I hear we’re gonna be roomies," he said, his tone teasing.

Your eyes widened. "Roomies?"

"Yup! Turns out the mansion’s a bit crowded. Everyone’s pairing up. And lucky you, you get the one and only Deadpool!" He waggled his eyebrows, clearly finding the situation hilarious. "Don’t worry, I don’t snore...much."

You blinked, processing this new piece of information. Roomed with Wade Wilson? The Wade Wilson? You had barely talked to him beyond these fleeting conversations, and now you were going to share a room with him?

"Uh, are you sure?" you asked, your voice betraying your uncertainty.

"Positive! Just checked with the big guy upstairs," Wade said, pointing a thumb in the vague direction of where you assumed Professor Xavier’s office was. "He said, 'Wade, you’re the perfect mentor for our newest recruit,' and who am I to disagree with the boss, right?"

You weren’t sure if you believed that Professor X had phrased it quite that way, but Wade’s enthusiasm was impossible to deflect.

"Okay," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "I guess that’s...fine."

"Fine? Fine?! Rooming with Wade Wilson is never just 'fine,'" he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if wounded. "It’s a blessing. A privilege! Think of all the fun we’re gonna have—pillow fights, late-night snack raids, deep philosophical discussions about the meaning of life and why chimichangas are the ultimate food."

You chuckled despite yourself. "I don’t think I’m ready for all that."

Wade grinned, his eyes crinkling behind his mask. "Don’t worry, you’ll be just fine. And hey, maybe you’ll even start talking to me more. I’m very persuasive, you know."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress your smile. "We’ll see."

~

Moving your stuff into the shared room was surprisingly uneventful—until you noticed the single bed taking up the middle of the room.

"Uh, Wade?" you asked, pointing at the bed as if it had suddenly appeared out of thin air.

He followed your gaze and then let out a low whistle. "Huh. Well, I guess someone upstairs is shipping us already."

You felt your face heat up. "I-I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s not a big deal."

Wade waved his hand dismissively. "Nonsense! This bed is big enough for two. We’ll just build a pillow fort in the middle. You get one side, I get the other. No funny business, I promise. Unless you count my sleep-talking, in which case, you’re in for a treat."

You hesitated, feeling a mix of nervousness and something else—a fluttering in your stomach that you hadn’t quite placed until now. The thought of sharing a bed with Wade, even with a barrier of pillows between you, was both thrilling and terrifying. But you didn’t want to let him see how much it affected you, so you nodded.

"Okay, that works," you agreed, trying to sound nonchalant.

Wade clapped his hands together. "Perfect! This is gonna be like a sleepover. Do you want the side closest to the door or the window?"

"The window," you replied, grateful that he was making this easy.

"Excellent choice," he said, winking at you. "I’ll take the door side. You know, in case any bad guys break in during the night. I’ll protect you, my fair maiden."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Wade was ridiculous, but he had a way of making everything seem less daunting. Maybe sharing a bed with him wouldn’t be so bad after all.

~

The first few nights were awkward, to say the least. You kept to your side of the bed, huddled up against the edge as far as you could go without falling off. Wade, true to his word, respected the pillow barrier and even stayed mostly still, aside from the occasional bout of sleep-talking.

But as the days passed, you found yourself growing more comfortable. You started to notice little things about Wade—like how he always made sure the room was warm enough for you at night, or how he would subtly rearrange the pillows to give you more space. He could be loud and obnoxious, but there was a kindness beneath all the bluster that you hadn’t expected.

And then there was your growing crush.

It snuck up on you, as these things often do. At first, you thought it was just admiration—after all, Wade was brave, funny, and fiercely loyal to his friends. But then you started noticing how your heart would race whenever he smiled at you, or how you found yourself looking forward to the end of the day when you’d both be lying in bed, talking about nothing and everything.

You tried to push the feelings aside. Wade was...Wade. He was larger than life, and you were just...you. Quiet, reserved, and maybe a little too intense for someone like him. You doubted he even saw you as anything other than a friend—or worse, a younger sibling in need of protection.

But the feelings wouldn’t go away. They grew stronger with each passing day, and it became harder to keep them hidden. Especially when Wade would casually toss an arm across the pillow fort, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as he mumbled something incoherent in his sleep.

It was torture, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if it made things weird between you? So you stayed silent, your heartache hidden behind a carefully constructed mask of indifference.

~

It was late one night, the mansion unusually quiet, when you found yourself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Wade was beside you, his breathing steady and even. You hadn’t said much that evening, too wrapped up in your own thoughts to engage in the usual banter. Wade had noticed, of course—he always noticed—but he hadn’t pushed you to talk.

But now, as you lay there in the dark, you couldn’t stop thinking about the mission you had completed together earlier that day. It had gone sideways more than once, and Wade had saved your life more than once. You kept replaying the moments in your mind, the way he had shielded you with his body, the way he had looked at you with a mixture of concern and something else you couldn’t quite place.

"Hey," Wade’s voice broke through your thoughts, startling you.

You turned your head to see him lying on his side, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at you. "You okay?"

"Me? Yeah, I’m fine," you lied, trying to smile.

Wade didn’t buy it. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You’ve been quiet—quieter than usual. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, and you swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. You wanted to tell him everything, to pour out your heart and let him see just how much he meant to you. But the words caught in your throat, tangled up with fear and uncertainty.

"I’ve just been thinking," you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"About what?" he asked, his tone soft and patient.

You hesitated, but something in his eyes urged you to continue. Wade, despite his usual chaotic demeanor, could be incredibly perceptive when it mattered most. He was watching you now with an intensity that made it impossible to deflect or hide behind vague answers.

"About today. About how you saved me," you finally said, your voice trembling just slightly. "I just... I don’t know if I thanked you properly."

Wade’s expression softened, and he shook his head. "You don’t have to thank me. That’s what teammates do, right? We look out for each other."

You nodded, but the knot in your chest didn’t loosen. It wasn’t just about today’s mission. It was about everything—the way he made you feel seen in a way no one else had, the way he could make you laugh when you wanted to disappear into the shadows, the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him even when you knew you should.

"Wade, I—" you started, then hesitated, biting your lip as you struggled to find the right words. "There’s more to it than that."

He stayed quiet, giving you the space to gather your thoughts, his gaze never leaving your face. You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

"I... I’ve been feeling like I don’t really belong here. Like I’m on the outside, looking in," you confessed. "But when I’m with you, it’s different. You make me feel like I fit, like I’m not just some quiet, awkward girl who’s always in the background."

Wade frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as he listened. "You’re not just in the background. Not to me."

You felt your breath catch at his words, hope and fear warring within you. "I’ve been trying to keep it to myself, but... I think I have feelings for you, Wade. More than just teammates. More than just friends."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. You stared up at him, terrified of what he might say next.

Wade blinked, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer, almost tender. "You do?"

You nodded, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. "I know it’s probably silly. You’re... well, you’re you. And I’m just—"

"Don’t," he interrupted gently, his voice firm but kind. "Don’t put yourself down like that. You’re amazing. Seriously. I’ve been waiting for you to say something, but I didn’t want to push you. You’re so quiet sometimes, and I didn’t want to scare you off."

"You... you have?" you asked, barely daring to believe what you were hearing.

He grinned, a little sheepishly. "Yeah, I have. I’m crazy about you, you know that? But I didn’t want to mess things up between us. I figured if you didn’t feel the same, I could at least stick around and be your annoying, charming roommate."

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, relief flooding through you. "Wade, I—"

Before you could finish, he leaned in, his hand still resting gently on your cheek as he closed the distance between you. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You kissed him back, your hands clutching at his shirt as if he might disappear if you let go.

The kiss deepened, all the emotions you had been holding back pouring out as you pressed closer to him. It was everything you hadn’t dared to hope for—warmth, safety, belonging—all wrapped up in the man you had been too afraid to love out loud.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Wade’s hand slid from your cheek to your back, pulling you closer as he whispered, "You’re not just someone in the background, okay? Not to me. You’re the reason I’m here. You’re the reason I stick around."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but this time they were tears of happiness, of relief. "Wade, I... I don’t know what to say."

He smiled, that familiar playful glint returning to his eyes. "You don’t have to say anything. Just let me hold you, okay? We’ll figure everything else out as we go."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through your chest as you nestled closer to him, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. The tension that had been knotting your stomach for weeks melted away, leaving only a sense of peace and contentment.

As you lay there, wrapped in his arms, you knew that this was just the beginning. The start of something new, something real. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged. Right here, with him.

Wade shifted slightly, pulling the blankets up over both of you as he settled back down. "You know," he said, his voice drowsy but full of warmth, "this whole 'roommate' thing worked out pretty well, don’t you think?"

You smiled, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Yeah, it really did."

"And just think," he continued, a grin evident in his voice, "we still have plenty of nights to practice this whole 'sharing a bed' thing. I’m thinking we could get really good at it."

You laughed softly, feeling more at ease than you had in a long time. "I think so too."

As you drifted off to sleep, your hand resting over his heart, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for this strange, chaotic, wonderful man who had somehow found his way into your life—and your heart.

And, as Wade’s arms tightened around you, you knew that whatever came next, you were ready to face it. Together.

🏷️: @stargazingcarol

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know! 🫶

[swifty-fox]

my kingdom for a kiss outtakes

somewhere around the james arc i decided to save anything I deleted so here's some stuff that didn't make the cut into the final draft! (including a more corny ending)

Gale muffles another noise into his flesh, bites down hard enough he feels the bones of his wrist shift against eachother. The pain stokes him hotter, shatters his gentle fantasy for good. He was no woman, no pretty thing for John to make a home with. He’d killed men and commanded them to their deaths. He was broad and mascluline even in his soft features. He dealt in death and flew in the skies where no human ever belonged regardless of what was between their legs. He’d had other mens blood in his mouth, knew what rotting corpses smelled like. He was a soldier, all softness trained out of him in the service of god and country. A weapon, a missile, unthinking and unfeeling.

There was no love-making in his world, if John were ever to have him it would be like this. On his knees and mounted, hands heavy in his hipbone drawing him back into the press of John’s body. 

-

“I love you.” he whispers into the shameful folds of the sweatshirt. Inhales deep and brushes a thumb over the blushed head of his cock, hips twitching and breath hitching.

“I love you.” Gale spills into his hand, mouth open and wet and dampening the gray fabric as he crashes his way through his stolen orgasm.

-

“And you don’t have to tell me you love me back, not after-” John seems to chew on his words for a moment, “after everything I’ve put you through, after all I have to make up for.” 

There’s something young and vulnerable in John’s eyes, his voice and Gale is suddenly wildly angry. Not the untamable rage of his father or the forest, but a more icy sort of wrath. His own brand of fury that had carried him through missions and imprisonment and escape. Angry for John, protective of him and the ways the war had spit him out with untreated wounds. They hadn’t senf him home in a pine box like John Sr. feared, but parts of him were dead and needing buried all the same.

“You don’t have to make up for what they did. You own no part of those motherless fuckin’ Krauts’ sins.” 

John’s chin wobbles and he looks off to the side, clearing his throat and going to shove his hands in his pockets before appearing to remember he was still without.

“Is this the first time you’ve spoken of it?” Gale asks quietly.

Words tight and quick, John opts to rub the tops of his thighs instead, “Yes.” 

He should tell him. He should bare all the ugly bits himself the way he’d done to Marge over the phone. Tell him about how scared he is and the way he almost begged if he didn’t fear it would get back to his men and shake their confidence; if they would have any in him left if they learned what happened. How he thought to imagine John for the briefest moment before shoving him so far from his mind and that room that they may as well have ended up in separate universes. He opens his mouth.

Closes it. 

Opens it again, “I don’t think less of you.” 

John’s shoulders tense up around his ears and then slump as if a great weight has been cut from them. 

-

“What was your mother like?”

Gale lets the petal drop,“Is that what we’re talking about tonight? Mothers?” your mother has held me and comforted me like one of her own. Your mother brushed the hair from my forehead and the tears from my cheeks as she might a child. She didn’t have to do that. 

“You never talk about her. You talk about your old man, bastard that he is, but I’d say you sprung fully formed for all you mention a mother.” 

Suddenly regretting not indulging in a third cigarette, Gale grunts

“My Ma,” John laughs, “I almost think she’d be okay with all this. She likes you that much.”

Gale’s stomach lurching, “You can’t John. That’s not- this is the life. This is all it is. If it’s not enough you should decide that now.

-

The couch isn’t the most comfortable, but Gale doubts he’ll ever struggle again to sleep on a clean non lice-ridden surface. It’s nightmares that interrupt his sleep, throwing him straight from pale blue skies and a farmers rope around his throat into violent wakefullness. He’s silent with it, he knows, jaw clenched so tight it aches, but he’s sweating and breathing like he’s just sprinted a mile in full gear. There’s low voices coming from the kitchen, one deeper and masculine the other softer and quicker, and the faint smell of coffee. John’s parents, come to play out a thirty year old routine, it seemed. A house full of soldiers, a house full of ghosts. He thinks Ma Egan might be the strongest out of any of them.

Their words are too quiet for him to make out, but there’s a comforting warm quality to their cadence. Gale rolls to face the back of the sofa, face pressed to the clean smelling fabric and lets it soothe him back into sleep, the sound of their conversation soothing something shy and needy in his chest. 

 -

Joh- Bucky?” 

John’s head snaps up to look at his father standing in the doorway, shoulders deliberatly relaxing in an affectation of ease. 

“Need some help out in the shed, if you’re finished eating.” 

There was a cautious air between the two men, but no hostility radiating from John so when he hesitates Gale knocks his knee quietly against John’s own to spur him into movement. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m done,” He drains the last of his coffee, steals a strip of bacon from Gale’s plate with a wink and follows his father out of the room. From behind, only the larger amount of grey in John Egan Sr.’s hair marks them apart. 

“More coffee, Gale?” 

He holds his mug out eagerly for more to cut the sick-sweet taste, watching thne drink swirl darker, “Thank you.” 

She sets the percolator back on the stove, polishes at a spot-free section of the counter with her apron, “I imagine your fiance is upset to have you traveling again so soon.” 

“Marge likes her privacy,” he smiles to himself faintly, “And we’re only going to be a few days.”

The last half of his statement is a careful open door, and Ma Egan takes it.

“I do hope she won’t mind a permanent guest. Most newlyweds prefer to enjoy their new home alone.” 

Gale sips his coffee, feeling a bit like he’s flying through a flak field, “John and her are good friends,” Not really a lie in the long term, “And it’s pretty rural out there, she probably will feel better with an extra presence around the farm.”

“A farm,” Ma murmurs in suburban shock.

“I’ll take care of him,” Gale promises her, “I’ve been taking care of him for five years now.” 

This doesn’t seem to please her as much as he expects and she frowns at him with something close to grief, though it doesn’t seem directed entirely at him. She sits with it for a few moments before carefully smoothing her face out into something more lovingly exasperated. A woman who’d send her husband and son both off to war and knew how to wear that pain quietly. 

“I hope Marge has a few single friends, at least then,” She sighs, “I think he’s turns his nose up at every girl in our Church at this point.”

“A few,” He says, mouth dry.

-

“He’s far too grown for me to cling to him,” Ma Egan says, voice wobbling, “But then, I did lose a few years.” 

-

He’s asked John, loud bombastic life of the part John Egan, to live a quiet life with him. 

Gale cups his hands around his mouth.

“I Love John Egan!” 

A bellow, full bodied and from his chest. He shouts it to the curvature of the world, to the clouds and the blue-blue sky.

It’s not the first time he’s said it, not by a longshot. But John beams like it is each and every time.

 Beside him John laughs in shocked delight, lips parted and cheeks flushed. He fights with Bugs for a second, still unpracticed and Gale takes pity on time, drawing the white gelding astride his own mare by the reins. He kisses John, saddle creaking as he leans over. John presses their foreheads together briefly and then turns, whooping in delight, the sound echoing over the mountains of Wyoming.

After a moment, laughter on his cheeks, Gale howls along with him.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: What We Did In The Dark {2}*

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: Language, 18+ Mature Content, Angst, Time Jump, Flashbacks, Preggo Talk, Pregnancy Trope, First 200ish words are NSFW

Words: 5.2k

Summary: Neither of you planned any of it. You’d met by chance, and everything that happened after had to have been predestined. Now back to your own life, you find you have a special souvenir from your time in Mauritius.

Note: Italic text above the photo insert symbolizes a memory/flashback. The first 200ish words are NSFW so be aware.

As always, thank you for reading. I appreciate it!

As you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

Previous:

What We Did In The Dark {1} |

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2: Comes To Light

-Y/N-

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for hours. Hell, I think I’ve wanted it since I first saw you between the flames of that bonfire. Can I?”

The feel of his fingers across your cheekbone sent sparks all through your body making you want him more than you’d ever wanted anyone in over two years. It was wild. Once his body pressed to yours, it responded immediately. The feel and taste of his lips only made the moment better. You’d never been a huge fan of kissing but with him, you never wanted to stop.

“Shit, you’re perfect,” he said.

His hands were impressively soft but still held some roughness that could be credited to hours of gripping a steering wheel. It was an interesting combo that made you shiver though it was over 80 degrees. His thumb glided over your nipple, making it pebble painfully from the need for more. Him rolling the bud of your nipple between his thumb and forefinger was the more you needed until his teeth sank into the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“You look good with this cock down your throat.”

Your mouth felt fuller than ever and the feel of him lodged in your throat should have scared you because of his size but your boldness came through instead. It took everything in you to suppress your gag reflex and it looked like he was trying everything to make you gag because it wasn’t until one slipped that he slowly pulled himself from your mouth. The look in his eyes said it all and ignited a hidden fire within you that you didn’t even know was lying dormant.

“Mmm, ride this tongue, Y/N. Show me how bad you want me.”

You felt wild, as if you’d been barred by chains your entire life with everyone you’d ever encountered, and now—this one night—this one moment you were free and completely unrecognizable. Your hips bucked against his mouth and your only thought was your pleasure and how gorgeous he looked with his lips and nose slick from your juices. You wanted to cum all over his face then kiss him until you lost consciousness.

“Y/N?”

“Y/N!?”

The loudness of your name being called made you jump. Looking around you found four pairs of eyes on you.

“Uh--,” you began before clearing your throat.

“Are you here with us?”

“Of course.”

You sat up straighter then gave them a gentle smile hoping that would smooth things over. You needed to leave them with a good impression of you.

“Okay. So with all of this, I see no reason to not move forward with the series. Since you are on board with incorporating some family-friendly content to draw in families with children I think this will be one of the best moves for not only your brand but the series. Does anyone have anything else to add?”

You glanced at your friend, and personal attorney, Villie, who lifted her notepad to you, showing you a scribbled note.

Are you all right? You majorly zoned out again.

You gave her a subtle nod and wrote your own note back.

Is everything still in my best interest?

Villie nodded and gave you a thumbs up.

“I have a question,” one of the men in suits breached.

You smiled and leaned forward giving him your full attention.

“Your brand thus far has been geared to singles and partyers who want to travel for the fun of it, you know those who are interested in drinking and living carelessly. How confident are you that you could pull off being just as interesting and entertaining to those who aren’t looking for those things and even those with children?”

You nodded, fully understanding his concern.

“Good question. Simply put I am 100% confident I can draw in a more family-friendly audience. I think one of the reasons I have such a following is because of my personality. I find a way to live carelessly doing almost anything. It really is dependent on the experience. I don’t see a reason why it would change because of my audience. We all want to have a good time and it’s possible for everyone to get a slice of what they crave while traveling.”

He nodded and looked amongst his colleagues who also nodded.

“I understand his view. I guess he sees you have no children so he is wondering how that audience will relate to you,” another exec pointed out.

This time it was Villie who spoke up. “If you gentlemen have seen a lot of her streams you can see how Y/N approaches travel. She is practically a big child herself. She easily relates to children including her nieces and nephews and even while traveling children gravitate to her. I don’t think it will be any problem at all for the shift of audience to relate to her.”

The men once again looked at each other speaking with nothing but eyes. You glanced at Villie then gave her a quick fist bump. Ever since high school, she’s had your back, which is why you didn’t think twice about making her your professional and personal attorney.

After a few more minutes of discussion, a consensus had been reached. Once you’d signed the contract and shaken the hands of the three men opposite you the meeting was adjourned, and you were now in a completely different pond. No longer would you be this travel influencer who predominantly posted on the internet you were now a travel influencer who was signed to one of the biggest travel channels on television. You were moving on up.

Your excitement was on 100. After the men left the room you and Villie did your victory dance in your seats and quietly screamed.

“Oh my god! This is a great deal for you, Y/N!”

“Couldn’t have done it without my badass attorney!”

Villie smiled then flashed imaginary hair behind her shoulder.

“I am pretty badass huh?”

“Bet your ass you are! Thank you Villie.”

You hugged each other and then stood. However when you stood an intense wave of dizziness washed across you making you drift backward.

“Woah!”

The next thing you knew Villie was beside you holding you close.

“Are you okay?”

“Wha—what happened?”

“You looked like you were falling.”

“Oh. I—I don’t know what happened. I must have stood up to quickly.”

“Are you all right? you’ve been—off for weeks,” Villie inquired.

You straightened up and pressed your hands down the front of your skirt. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I’m probably just tired. It’s been a lot of work convincing these execs that I could do this show while keeping up with my posting schedule and the work for the travel catalog.”

Villie didn’t look convinced, but she nodded. “Things are only going to get more hectic you need to take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“I know, I know. I will. I promise.”

The two of you walked out of the room and toward the elevator discussing the plans to celebrate this major accomplishment. Once downstairs you and Villie went your separate ways with plans to meet up that night for dinner and drinks with the girls. As you drove through the city on your way downtown, you made a call to your artistic team to get updates about your catalog.

You’d worked your ass off for it, putting in the long hours of planning and the meticulous schedule you’d kept in order to hit every destination and the exhaustive list of hot spots wherever you went. That was just the tip of the iceberg though. This catalog was a multitude of months’ labor of love.

“I knew you’d call me again today,” Zavier said with a hint of tease in his voice.

You scoffed, “Of course, you’re taking lead with the team for the catalog.”

“Boo. Here I thought you just wanted to hear my voice.”

You smirked. While he had a great voice, one that was deep at the right moments, but level and clear every time he spoke, his voice was not the reason for your call. Deciding to tip-toe around Zavier’s usual banter you focused on the real reason for calling.

“How are things?”

“They are about as good as they were the last time you called to check—yesterday.”

You made a last-minute right turn and was met with a barrage of horns. Raising your hand as an apology, you focused on your conversation. “So everything looks right for launch?”

“Y/N, everything is on track. I know what I am doing, I promise. I wouldn’t have you out in these streets looking foul.”

You smiled and sighed. Zavier had been with you from the beginning of this crazy idea to put together this catalog—2 years. He’d been the one to push you toward it the whole year you’d procrastinated with it then was your number 2 cheerleader after Villie the whole last year you’d actually taken it seriously. You knew his work was solid as was his skill. You trusted him, which was something rare for you.

“I know Z, thank you. I’m just--.”

“A bit obsessive and compulsive and a whole lotta stressed? I know. What have I told you about your stress levels? Someone whose whole career is traveling and unwinding shouldn’t be as stressed out as you. Your life is literally one long vacation.”

You rolled your eyes because a lot of people thought that. They thought your life was one big party and good time and while 40% of it was the remaining 60 was anything but. It took a lot of work to be on vacation all the time. However, you never corrected anyone when they brought it up. You didn’t want to sound pretentious or ridiculous.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to say something in response, another wave of dizziness washed over you. This time you found yourself drifting sideways in the car which sent the car gearing to the right into the next lane. Before you knew what happened you’d slammed into something sending your head banging into the steering wheel and turning your vision black.

~~~~~~~

Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep.

The first thing you recognized was the steady beeping tone. You recognized the steady, rhythmic beeping. The second thing you recognized was the sudden rush of pain you felt in your head. Panic filled you and the once steady beeping turned erratic. You darted upward and immediately regretted it. Dropping back to the bed you groaned and held your head.

“Hey, hey, hey. Take it easy.”

“W—what—where am I?”

“You’re at Mount Saini Medical Center.”

More panic filled and you tried to sit up again but hands pushed you back down.

“Calm down. Lie down. You’ve been in an accident and have a mild concussion. You need to remain lying down.”

“Accident?”

Your vision finally steadied allowing you to take in the woman standing over you. Her long black hair fell around her shoulders that were clad in a lollipop printed top.

“I’m Mariah, I’m one of your nurses here.”

“How—how long have I been here?”

“Not too long, 5 hours give or take.”

You looked around and took in the hospital room you were in. The tans, clays and camel colors decorated the space giving it an earthy and Zen vibe.

“Am I--,” you attempted but the tightness in your throat prevented further speech.

“You must be thirsty,” Mariah said before walking a few feet away. When she came back she held a cup for you to take. “Water.”

You took the cup and only meant to take a small sip but instead downed the entire cup.

“Good. Remaining hydrated is important.”

“What happened? Why am I here?”

“When you were brought in the paramedics said you’d rear-ended another car and was found unconcious behind the wheel.”

You squinted your eyes trying to remember. It took several attempts, but bits and pieces came back to you confirming those details.

“Oh my god, is anyone hurt?”

“Just you. The other driver wasn’t in the car, they were parked. They were the ones who found you, got you out of the car, and called the paramedics to bring you here,” Mariah explained.

“Oh my god. I have no idea what—wait—I was dizzy all of a sudden and I must have accidentally—oh my god.”

“Dizziness is normal at this time. Because of your condition, you were immediately admitted and checked out.

You paused rubbing your temples to look at her. “Huh? My condition? What condition?”

The nurse studied you for a moment. “Yeah,” she began taking up your chart that rested in the slot at the foot of the bed. You watched her flip through the pages. “Yeah, it says here that you’re pregnant.”

Suddenly, the ringing in your ears increased until it was the only thing you could hear. Pinching the bridge of your nose you shook your head trying to clear the increasing fog in your brain.

“W—what are you talking about?”

Your voice sounded foreign to you, muffled, and stretched as if in slow motion.

“You’re pregnant. You didn’t know?”

You shook your head again ridding your ears of the ringing but that was about it. your head still felt heavy.

“P-pr—preg—no. You’re wrong.”

“On the contrary. It’s routine with everyone who comes in to run a panel, with women it includes pregnancy. It allows us to treat you better. It was a good thing we tested before running you into a CAT scan. The test was positive and after a consult with OB-GYN, it was confirmed with a Doppler,” Mariah filled in.

Your head was spinning now. She could have been speaking another language entirely because your brain was not connecting the dots.

“I—I’m--.”

“Pregnant. Congratulations.”

Once again your vision went black, and everything slipped away.

~~~~~~~

Your surroundings looked familiar when you opened your eyes. The rich earthy colors gave you a sense of calm but also warmth. To your right the view outside your window was dark and to your left you found Villie dozed off. You groaned as you tried to sit up, your head still pounding.

“Fuck,” you croaked.

The sound of your voice made Villie jolt upward her hair half slayed and half sticking up thanks to her awkward sleeping position.

“Oh my god, Y/N!”

She rushed to your side and took your hand then fired off a series of questions that your brain couldn’t quite understand in its current slightly traumatized state. On the 7th rapid-fire question, you clasped your head.

“Oh for fuck’s sake Valenza my brain is like a cracked egg right now. Slow down.”

She cotched at the edge of your bed then took a breath. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel okay at all. my head feels like I was Humpty fucking Dumpty.”

“They told me you got into an accident. Oh my god, babes.”

“I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine, the next--.”

“You’re not taking care of yourself. I knew this would happen eventually,” Villie said.

She took a deep breath then squeezed your hand. “I’m glad you’re okay. They say they’re keeping you for observation mainly and if all checks out tonight they can release you tomorrow night.”

“It’s just this headache that won’t go away.”

“I got everything Villie.”

You looked across the room and saw Zavier walking inside with his hands full of bags, balloons, flowers, and other items.

“Oh god. Did you call everyone?”

“No. You were on the phone with Z when this happened. He was the one to call me,” Villie explained.

“Are you okay?”

Zavier filled in on your right side and took your hand.

“I’m all right. Little damage done.”

His hazel eyes bored into you scanning every inch of your face. His brows were creased with worry and he looked less rested than he usually looked.

“You look like shit.”

Zavier scoffed. “You’re the one to talk. Your head is wrapped like a pinata.”

You smiled but immediately regretted it.

“I brought all your favorites. I don’t know if you can have caffeine, but I brought your fave latte, and the sweetheart rolls you love from Oishi with plenty of ginger dressing.”

You gave Zavier a small smile not wanting to trigger the pain in your head.

“Thanks Z, that’s sweet of you.

“Oh you’re awake. Good. How are you feeling?”

You squinted toward the new voice, a voice you recognized from earlier. “Uh—pretty much the same.”

“Oh. How does your head feel?”

“Like it’s splitting.”

“Okay. I sent a message to your doctors to see if they can narrow down any pain medicines they can prescribe to help due to your—condition.”

It was then it all came back. Your eyes met the nurse’s and an unspoken understanding passed between the two of you.

“Condition? What condition?”

You looked at Villie then Zavier and closed your eyes. “The concussion.”

“How is she really nurse?”

“She has a mild concussion. She did bang her head pretty good, so we just want to watch that to make sure it doesn’t escalate. Oop, is that caffeine?”

All your eyes roved over to the bedside table where Zavier had placed your latte.

“Yes. A vanilla, cinnamon, caramel latte with nutmeg,” he replied.

“Oh, sorry. No caffeine for now and no sushi if it has raw fish, mercury levels you know.”

Mariah gave you a look but you didn’t quite understand it.

“Don’t worry guys, we will get her some food shortly and take good care of her.”

“Mariah?”

Another nurse dressed in traditional white scrubs entered the room.

“What is it Brooke?”

“Um, there is a man at the desk asking about one of your patients. He says he was told the woman who rear-ended him was admitted and he wanted to speak with her.”

“How did he find that out? Did you--?”

“No. HIPPA, of course not,” Brooke defended.

Mariah sighed then stood. “I’ll be right back.”

“Am I the woman?”

“Don’t worry I won’t let him near you.”

“No it’s okay. I feel horrible. Let him know I’ll cover the damages, and any medical reimbursement he may need. It is my fault after all.”

“I’ll go with you nurse. I’m her attorney. Let’s see what his intentions are showing up here,” Villie said standing and rearranging her dress.

Once the nurse and Villie left you were alone with Zavier, who pulled his chair closer and gave you his best reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, Valenza is a shark. She’ll have this guy reimbursing you after everything is said and done.”

“Yeah, I bet. It’s my fault though. I’ll take responsibility.”

Zavier nodded. “One of the things I love about you is that you’re fair in everything you do. I’ve never known you to try to swindle someone out of something if it’s rightfully owed to them. You’ll even pay vendors who show us around destinations 5% more than their rate just because you know most tourists are assholes and don’t tip or care about their footprint in these people’s native countries. It’s—admirable Y/N.”

“Thanks Z.”

A few moments of silence passed and in those moments your brain tried to piece together everything from the last few hours. However the more you thought the more pain you felt and whenever one word echoed in your head, you had the urge to throw up. so as quickly as you began to think you stopped and went the route you were good at—distraction.

“Did you bring your laptop?”

“Nope.”

“What about your tablet. Come on, I know you don’t leave home without that thing. Show me the--.”

“Nope. There is no way in hell I’ll let you work at a time like this. Rest, Y/N.”

You sighed and pouted which had Zavier laughing.

“You look like a petulant child.”

You stuck your tongue out at him in response, ignoring everything else.

“Y/N.”

Villie’s voice drew your attention to the door where she stood with a very tall light-skinned man.

“Uh--.”

“This is Miles. He wanted to make sure you were all right after the accident,” Villie informed.

You pushed yourself up some more and fixed your gown a little as the man crossed the room.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Oh god, I’m so sorry. I feel terrible,” you began.

“No, it’s fine. I got the details from the paramedics and from what the doctors revealed. You had a medical emergency it wasn’t on purpose. I understand.”

You gave him a soft smile. “Thank you for understanding but I still feel like shit.”

“I was worried when I found you unconscious across the steering wheel. I’m by no means a doctor but I tried the best I could to stop the bleeding.”

“That was you? Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Miles added.

“Look I will pay for the damage done to your car and anything else.”

He scoffed. “You weren’t kidding Ms. Chord. She really is self-sacrificing.”

“To a fault,” Villie teased.

You recognized a glint in her eyes as she spoke to him and made a note to bring it up later. Was she shooting her shot out there to smooth things over or was this real interest? You looked over the man taking in his tall, lanky frame that looked muscular but not obsessively so. The tattoos on his hands hinted that there was more to the picture though he dressed in a mix between street and business casual. He looked just like Villie’s type.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I insist. Please give Ms. Chord your information and we’ll talk once I’m released, or the two of you could work things out,” you wing-womaned.

Miles smiled and looked back to Villie who also smiled while twirling the ends of her hair. Oh, she was feeling him alright. Villie motioned her head to him and the two of them left together.

“Villie would be the only one to find a date from your accident,” Zavier joked.

You couldn’t help but laugh even though seconds later you regretted it.

2 hours later brought the end of visiting hours and it was then you were truly alone. The silence in the room was deafening. So deafening the voices that spoke in the silence all said the same thing.

“What the fuck!?”

You were pregnant. Not suspected pregnant, or possibly pregnant. You were confirmed, definitely pregnant. How in the hell had you missed this? You thought back over the last weeks trying to recall if you had a period. You thought you had but how could you have had one if you were pregnant now. The more that word came to mind the harder you worked trying to ignore the massive elephant in your head, the culprit, the other major factor in this scenario.

“No,” you said shaking your head.

You couldn’t go there. You weren’t ready to go there. You needed answers.

“Okay, so we have some meds for you. After your OB and attending huddled, they came up with something that was safe for you during early pregnancy. They also reviewed some of your bloodwork and found you severely lacking in several vitamins which could explain the increased dizziness you’ve been experiencing. So we are going to hook you up to some iron, and vitamin B12 with a mix of B complex which includes zinc, magnesium, Glutathione, Calcium, some electrolytes, and folate.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Don’t worry it’s only these two bags plus the pain medicine we will give via tablet form,” Mariah explained.

“When can I talk to the OB? I have some questions. I’m just a little confused. I had a period, or I think I did and I—I don’t know how this is possible.”

Mariah nodded. “No doubt, I paged her about an hour ago. She usually makes rounds before she leaves for the night so she should stop in tonight hopefully.”

“Hopefully is definitely. Hi, I’m Dr. Olumici, it’s nice to meet you Y/N.”

A woman of color approached you with a kind smile on her face that instantly reassured you.

“Thank God. Hi.”

She pulled up a chair but before she sat she flipped through your chart and studied the machines. “Your vitals look good, that’s reassuring. How are you feeling?”

“Apart from this headache okay I guess.”

“Good. No abdominal cramping or bleeding?”

“No.”

“Wonderful. While I don’t think anything would be wrong with the fetus I like to be safe there, especially after any car accident.”

“That’s the thing I don’t know how there is a fetus. I had a period, I had 2 actually.”

“When?”

“Last month, and this month.”

“Were they normal for you?”

“Yes. 4 days, lite to normal flow. It was all normal.”

“Hm. Mariah, can you bring me a portable ultrasound please?”

“Right away Dr. Olumici.”

Mariah walked out of the room leaving you with the doctor. She approached and proceeded to examine your abdomen. She felt around applying pressure to different parts then she moved down to your pelvic area. As she did it she didn’t speak but every so often she made an “mm-hm” sound. You didn’t know what to make of it, so you kept quiet and watched her like a hawk.

In a few short minutes Mariah returned with an ultrasound machine that she set up on your left side.

“How many times did we run blood work Mariah?”

“Twice from the same sample. Should we take new samples?”

“Let’s hold off for a moment. Okay, Y/N. We’re going to get some definitive answers right here and now. I can understand how confusing this must be and the need for even just a sliver of certainty I can understand is overwhelming,” Dr. Olumici began.

You nodded finally feeling seen and heard. You fought the tears pricking your eyes and took several deep breaths.

“First let me ask a few preliminary questions. LMP you said you’ve had them for the last two months. Okay. What about sexual activity. When was the last date for that?”

You swallowed and saw his face in your mind’s eye as clear as day.

“Um—this month would be 3 months ago.”

“So—August, okay. None since then?”

“No.”

“Was there protection in August?”

You hesitated because you knew if you said the truth—no, that they would look at you as if you were crazy.

“No judgment zone Y/N. I’m here to help you not judge you,” Dr. Olumici reassured.

“No.”

“Okay. Have you felt any pregnancy symptoms?”

“What are those?”

“Nausea, vomiting, food cravings, breast changes, fatigue, increased urination, backache, dizziness, bloating, maybe cramps, or constipation.”

You thought over the last month or two and noted several instances where you’d felt at least 4 of those symptoms but you’d chalked it up to you working so much and getting less and less sleep. You explained your circumstances to Dr. Olumici who made some notes in your chart as she nodded her head. Once the questions were finished, she sat behind the machine and prepared to get started.

After she explained what was going to happen she squirted the cold gel over your abdomen then moved the Doppler wand across your stomach. You took a few centering breaths then turned your attention to the screen and watched as the image came to life. the black and white images were unrecognizable to you. It was crazy to think you were looking at imagining from inside your womb. Technology was truly fascinating.

The room was completely silent as Dr. Olumici slowly moved the wand over every inch of your abdomen. When she dipped lower getting closer to your pelvic region the image cleared up and then your world came to a complete stop. You didn’t know what you were looking at, but you knew you were looking at something.

“Okay. Here we are. Mariah please the volume.”

Mariah tapped a button on the dashboard a few times then the room filled with quick rhythmic pounding that sounded like a heartbeat. When you realized what you were listening to, you gasped.

“This is your baby, Y/N.”

“Holy Shit!”

You’d said it louder than you’d intended and now your voice was echoing off the walls.

“Calm down. It’s okay. I’ve gone through this first moment with a lot of women. Take a few breaths. Mariah, some water please.”

Mariah poured some water from a dusty rose-colored plastic pitcher into a matching cup then handed it to you. You drank it all down as your eyes remained on the screen at the little blip that was front and center. Once the cup was empty you tried to keep your breathing steady.

“So—I’m—I’m really--,” you paused closed your eyes, and released a slow breath. “I’m pregnant.”

“Yes. You’re pregnant and looking at the fetus, I’d say you’re—currently in your third month, nearing the end of your first trimester.”

“What!”

“Interesting. You don’t look to be showing at all. There is a percentage of women who do not have symptoms or growth which hinders them from ever knowing they are pregnant. We call them cryptic pregnancies. Most women who experience them usually go their entire pregnancy never knowing because they don’t have symptoms, they continue their cycles, and they never show. It could be the same for you. Time will tell.”

Suddenly the image on the screen split in two and you sat up.

“What just happened?”

Dr. Olumici leaned closer to the machine then moved the wand lower over your pelvis and pressed for firmly.

“Huh, would you look at that.”

She tapped a few buttons then moved the wand again and repeated the series of movements 3 or 4 times.

“Someone please talk to me.”

“Yes, I’m sorry Y/N. I was so focused on making sure I didn’t miss anything or anyone. So it looks like we’re dealing with a twin pregnancy. This little one was hiding behind their sibling.”

“Twins?!”

“Twins. I want to say that they are in separate amniotic sacs which indicates fraternal twins, but I have seen identical twins in separate sacs. Depending on what you decide to do we’ll do a thorough check at your first official prenatal appointment.”

All this information was really taking its toll. You’d begun this discussion with very little pain in your head but as things progressed the pain intensified. Right now you felt as if you were having one of the worst migraines you’d ever had in your life. It was all too much, way too much at once. You’d just signed a deal for your own travel show which would mean more travel, long hours, and plenty of work, you were also doing a swimsuit and vacation wear line and a travel catalog and now not only were you currently pregnant but you were also having not one but 2 babies and all of this from 1 one-night stand where you allowed yourself to be the freest you’d ever been—the happiest you’d been.

“Fuck my life!”

This was the consequence of letting yourself live without inhibitions. This was the consequence of forming connections. This was the consequence of being carefree, the consequence of carelessness.

The consequences of what you did in the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @caramara3 @valkryienymph @babyflowa07 @est1887 @halfrican-heat @mauvecherie-writes @nunya7394 @lovebittenbyevans @gardenwonders2 @sweetlikecoffy @dillie60 @ olabelle757 @ophiaedits @kenequa @triton08 @skyesthebomb @shipatheart @keytodespair @xsweetdellzx @labella420 @coldmuffinbanditshoe @ak329 @shar74nett @youremysuperstar @whore-like-behaviour @sonjashuterbugjohnson

@alookintohersoul @asiaaisa77 @jd-now-jq @naturalthrone22      @mrsbarnes-rogers @beyourownkindofbeautiful @beccacupcakesxo @toni9 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison00 @queenoftheworldisdead @doublesidedscoobysnacks @sophiealiice @richonne4life @coffeebooksandfandom @siempremamita @raveviolet @dumbchick  @amennariee @briellableu @leebabe444 @31miw-inkpsycho

@rororo06 @disaster-rose @bugngiz @yourwonderbelle @queenbetter @melaninhawtie @bekindbecoolbeyou​ @heartfullofgolden @idkiwantchocolatee @missuniee @avngrsfangirl @a-highly-opinionated-mess @19jammmy ​@nunya7394 @eltima02 @motheroffae @luckydiorxoxo

@majx00 @bbhyuneee @queenanababy @ravenqueen27 @multi-fandom5 @xsweetdellzx @bqueensweet @misswolff @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @blveeeeeee @majx00 @rowansshit @tian-monique @venusesworld @motheroffae @gg-trini

[zoeykallus]

Hello! Hope you have been doing well. If it’s okay, would you do a Maul request? Him finding you absolutely useless and feeling a strong need to protect you? Thanks so much! Hope the sun is a bit warmer wherever you are !

💖

Aloha!

I do like me some Maul occasionally, so yes, I will 😁

Okay, no idea if I really understand that. I don't know if I interpreted that correctly, but let's take a look... 🤔 😬

Maul x Fem!Reader - Damsel In Distress

Warnings: Angst/Hurt/Injuries/Comfort (more or less)/Stockholm Syndrome Like Circumstances/Dominant Maul/Sub Reader/Slightly Suggestive/16+

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Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

______________

The way he looks at you, that angry stare. His gaze is fire that burns into your body, and you want to squirm, but you hold still, not wanting to seem even smaller than you already feel. "You just let them take it?!" he growls angrily. You blink, trying not to shake, not to cry. "There were three of them," you say meekly, "I don't possess your abilities." He growls again, saying through clenched teeth, "How can a single person contain so much uselessness?!" You still have your face turned away, all the time he sees only your left profile. You know how important the holocron is to him, you feel ashamed, but at the same time you feel unfairly treated. What could you do against three armed men who outnumber you? You can still be glad that they did not have other dubious interests. Although you don't dare, you suddenly say it out loud. Maul takes a deep breath, wants to scold again, but then he stops. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," he murmurs.

His gaze is so unrelenting that sometimes you hardly dare to move when he looks at you like that, but now you turn your head and look at him carefully, and Maul finally sees your whole face. The shiner on your right eye, the blood in the right corner of your mouth, the bruise on your cheek and the marks on your right arm where one of the men grabbed pretty hard. For a second, his features slip. He's hard on you, mean sometimes, often condescending, but he would never physically hurt you. That another dared to do so stokes an angry fire in his chest that startles even him for a brief moment. Maul steps toward you, very close, his leather-gloved hand grasping your chin surprisingly gently. He turns your head to look more closely at your wounds "I'm going to find these men. You stay here until I return," he growls.

When Maul returns, you know he has killed tonight, you see it in his stride, in his gaze. He moves at a leisurely pace, like a confident hunter, a predator who has just finished off his prey and is basking in his success. He holds the holocron in his hand, a small, barely noticeable smile at the corner of his mouth. You know his body language by now, know when anger is bubbling under the surface, when triumph, when desire. He looks at you, sitting there on the sofa, trying to tend to your wounds. Maul rolls his eyes, puts down the holocron and sits next to you, taking the utensils from your hand. When you feel a burning sensation and want to flinch away, he grabs hold of your chin. "Don't be so snivelling," he murmurs softly, his deep voice much gentler than earlier in the day. Even though his words were rough, his touch is suddenly much kinder. As he tends to your wounds, you ask softly, "Did you kill the men?" The corner of his mouth twitches. A smile, perhaps? "What do you think?" You blink and say carefully, "Quite a lot of anger over a simple theft."

He puts aside the gauze with which he has dabbed your bruises with baccta and turns your head all the way around to face him. "No one but me, in whatever way that may be, lays a hand on you," he says in a harsh whisper that gets under your skin. You blink, your eyes searching his gaze for a moment, but you can barely withstand the intensity in it, at the same time it draws you in magically. "You need my protection, don't you?" Quietly, you say, "I'm lost without you." He nods, as if it goes without saying. "I know. I shouldn't have left you alone with the holocron. I knew they would come to find it." Your pulse races, your heart beats a fast, furious rhythm. You realize that Maul knows this. He looks at the bruise between your neck and shoulder, pushing the fabric of your shirt aside with one finger. The touch gives you goose bumps. He repeats the touch with a knowing smile. He feels the shiver that goes through your body, he knows how he affects you, what his closeness triggers in you. His hand grips your chin a little tighter, he leans even closer to you. His teeth gently but firmly snap at your earlobe, eliciting a small gasp from you. Maul's mouth moves higher to your auricle and his deep voice whispers, "Maybe I'll lay a hand on you tonight".

You feel his breath close to your skin with every word, your sensitive ear, your whole body is covered with goose bumps. You hold completely still for a moment, but your hand has automatically placed itself on his arm. You can literally feel the power vibrating beneath his surface. Your voice is barely more than a whisper as you devotedly say, "Yes, master".

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

[hitmewithsomebooks]

@jegulus-microfic Jan 30 - uneven

1012 words (same as the 1st one holy cow this was not on purpose)

Cowboy James

NSFW for suggestive language/contact, not explicit

First part

~

The moment Regulus stood up, he already felt less confident. As though James could sense it, he took Regulus's hand, drawing him in closer.

"Don't worry, darlin', ah won't letcha fall." The cowboy said with a wink, before dragging him out onto the dance floor.

James began swaying easily, his hips smooth and his movements sure. Regulus, however, was uneasy, despite his drunken state. His movements were jagged and uneven, unable to match the beat. James could see this, obviously, a deep chuckle escaping his throat. He stepped closer, still swaying his hips.

"Can ah show you somethin', sweetheart?" James asked, and these nicknames were going to be the death of him. Regulus nodded, and James's hands reached forward to land on his hips.

"This okay?" He murmured, and god, he asked permission too?? Who was this man? Regulus nodded again, meeting the taller man's eyes. The hands on his hips led him, guiding them until the two were moving in sync, Regulus's hips rolling with James's. James grinned at him, and Regulus couldn't help but smile back. Finally, he fell into the rhythm, feeling more natural. Even so, James didn't let go, and Regulus didn't ask him to. Instead, he shuffled closer, wrapping his arms around James's neck, whose eyes darkened.

"Gettin' bolder, are ya?" James teased, and Regulus hit him on the chest. But he was, really; nearly drunk on alcohol and James's body heat, and holding quite a weakness for hot, smooth-talking men who called him fancy and sugar. So, he moved closer, letting his hips roll against James's. The man groaned softly, hips meeting Regulus's,  which were becoming increasingly forceful.

"You're gettin' a little naughty there, fancy." James rumbled into his ear, and Regulus hummed.

"Want me to stop?" He asked, and he felt the man's large hands tighten on his hips.

"Don't you dare."

Regulus chuckled, nosing at the man's neck. He smelled like hay and whiskey and sandalwood, and it was fucking intoxicating. Regulus could live with his nose buried there forever. Or his lips, as he found out when he kissed James's pulse point and the man groaned. Regulus did it again, trailing up to right below his ear, where he flicked his tongue. James pulled Regulus flush against him.

"If you keep that up, sweetheart, this 's gonna escalate real fast." He warned, and his voice was deep and thick as molasses. Regulus felt the vibrations where he was pressed to the man's broad chest.

Regulus's leaned up on his toes, so his lips were right at James's ear.

"That's the idea." He whispered, and the man shuddered.

"Please, let me take you home, so ah can fuck you proper." James growled into his ear. Regulus was so tempted to give in right then and there. But he had to play with him.

"Awful full of yourself, aren't you?" He cooed. "Who said I'd let you fuck me?"

James huffed out a laugh into Regulus's neck.

"I can assure you it'll be the best of your life." The cowboy told him, and Regulus scoffed. "Certainly better than Barty." Regulus pulled back, surprised.

"How do you know his name?"

"Ah might’ve asked your brother." James answered, grinning, not the slightest bit sheepish.

"Jealous, are we?" Regulus teased, but James, of course, didn't act cagey or embarrassed.

"Yes." He growled, placing a hand on Regulus's arse and pulling him impossibly closer. "Any chance this Barty fellow lives in the United States?" He questioned, and Regulus had a good idea of why.

"And why do you want to know?" He asked anyways, unable to keep the mirth out of his voice.

"So ah can knock his lights out, darlin'." James replied, and that was way hotter than it should've been.

"Mmm... why don't you just fuck my lights out instead?" He asked, and it was James's turn to pull back and look him in the eye, a smirk on his lips.

"Thought you didn' want me t' fuck you?"

"Never said that." Regulus replied, brushing his lips against the taller man's. "Just had to see how much you wanted it." James shuddered, eyes closing.

"You've no fucking idea how much, sweetheart." James murmured, opening his eyes again to meet Regulus's. Regulus leaned forward, lips brushing again. And finally, they reached James's breaking point. A finger and a thumb came up to grab Regulus's chin, then James's lip were on his own.

It wasn't a sweet, nice kiss. This was filthy. This was James setting a bruising pace and already licking at Regulus's lips. And when the younger man eagerly opened them, James plunged into his mouth like his life depended on it, like a starving man and Regulus was food.

After at least a full minute, Regulus pulled back, panting into James's mouth.

"You going to take me home, or just fuck me right here?" He murmured, and James shot him a wolfish grin.

"Ah mean, ah wouldn' be opposed, but ah don' think your brother over there would appreciate it much." James pointed out, and Regulus followed his eyes to the bar. Thankfully, Sirius had been too busy to notice their little display, though other people hadn't based on the stares they were getting. James, of course, gave them a cheeky little wave. Regulus leaned forward and gave James another deep kiss, just to piss them off further.

"Speaking of my brother..." Regulus mentioned, running his finger along James's lips, "Are you still going to get that phone back for me?" He prodded, and James huffed out a laugh against him.

“Darlin’, at this point, ah’ll get you wutev’r you want.” The taller man replied, seemingly still catching his breath from the last searing kiss. Regulus smiled, pleased.

“Get me that phone, and then you can take me home, nosy.” Regulus purred into the man’s ear, and James stood up straighter.

“Yeah?” He wondered, mouthing along jaw. “I git that phone, an’ ah get t’ take you home n’ fuck you?” Regulus repressed shiver.

“Yes.” He murmured, voice rough.

“Well that’s a deal, sugar.”

~

Next part

[stinkysam]

Monkey D. Luffy - Fish.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "oop siren!male reader who was saved by the crew from a bar that was gonna kill him to make food? all the fluffy stuff, i think reader would sing to the crew but very specific love songs to luffy, and i feel he would be running away from sanji and avoid the kitchen 😭" - @vainillacookie

Reader : male (he/you)

A/N : I pictured the reader like shyarly, so he doesn't have any legs, though his tail can be imagined differently

You knew you shouldn't have ventured alone out of the Grand Line but you wanted to see all the seas.

But here you were in the east blue, about to be eaten by some humans.

"Let go of me !" You yelled, slapping your tail against their faces. You struggled as best as you could, clawing and biting anything you could, yelling and screaming in hope to draw more attention to the kitchen.

"Shut up !" One of them yelled your way but you continued screaming. You'd explode their eardrums if necessary. Your voice is ringing in their ears, making some of them bleed.

You figured it worked as some waiters entered back in the kitchen, asking for the noise to stop as some customers began to be curious.

"Help ! Help me ! They're going to eat me !" You yelled and they cringed, hoping no one heard that.

They all tried to restrain you and silence you until the doors were kicked open, a small human making his entrance. He didn't look like a waiter or a cook and you hoped it was a customer here to help you.

"Mh ?" The man stared at you as everyone froze, his hand on his hat. "What's going on ?"

"They're trying to eat me ! Help !" You quickly yelled his way, still struggling, trying to get away from them.

"But you're a… a fish ?!"

"I'm not a fish !" You yelled back, angry. Did you look like a fucking fish ? "I'm a siren, you idiot ! Help me !"

The man stared at you and tilted his head. True. You didn't really look like a fish. His bad. He seemed to finally notice the people holding you down and frowned.

"Let go of him. He's not a fish." He said sternly.

"Or what." They stared at him, slowly moving away from you to grab their kitchen's ustensiles, clearly wanting to use them as weapons.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He said, smiling. Stretching his right arms as it cracked a bit. "Nami. Zoro. Sanji. Usopp" He called out and four more people entered the kitchen. "Me and my crew will defeat you."

The three men looked serious as well, ready to either open the door or to attack them. One had a slingshot, ready to shoot, one had green hair and a sword ready to cut while the third man, blonde hair, was just standing there looking menacing ?

"I don't think you want your customers to know you're cooking people." The woman, Nami added, threatening to open the door for everyone to see inside. "Plus, I've seen a few reporters in the room. They'd get the word around quickly."

"We… we don't have to go that far, ahah…" One of the men holding you said, letting go of you as the others did the same, slowly.

You pushed yourself away from them, struggling to go toward your saviors. Nami went to you with someone else, holding you by the arm.

"Are you okay ? Do you need help walking ?"

"Yes please." You said, throwing a glare to those that had tried to cook you. Nami and her friend helped you get away, accompanying you outside on their ship and soon the others followed.

They walked you to their kitchen, unaware you were anxious at the idea of getting inside another one. Looking for all the exits

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy." The man said, the one that had entered first, mistaking you for a fish. "And I'm gonna be king of the pirates !" He announced confidently, putting his right foot on the chair.

"Zoro." The green haired man said as he sat down.

"And I'm the great captain Usopp. But you can call me Usopp." The one with the slingshot said, looking as confident as Luffy.

"I'm Nami. Nice to meet you." The woman said, sitting down next to you.

"And I'm Sanji. Don't worry we're not going to cook you." The blonde haired man said as he looked through the drawers for… knives ? Was he going to try to cook you too ?

You looked at him with big eyes as all your cells screamed at you to get away. Frozen in place.

"Oh no, no, no. This isn't for you." Sanji said, looking at the knife. "You see, we didn't get to finish our lunch, so we're going to finish it here."

You continued to stare at him, afraid of what was coming next. But he simply opened the fridge and took something out before beginning to cut and cook it. You relaxed slightly, still keeping an eye on him while Luffy smiled, clearly amused.

"So ? What's your name ?" Nami asked, putting her face in front of you to get your attention.

"Huh… [Name]." You simply said, still unsure of what to think of them, looking at her with wide eyes.

"What's a siren doing here in east blue ? I read you exclusively lived in the Grand Line in Fish-man Island ?" She continued and Luffy perked up at the mention of Grand Line.

"I huh… wanted to see all the seas…"

"Wait, Fish-man island ? So does this mean mermaids exist ? I've seen fishmen but-" Sanji turned, suddenly growing interested.

"Of course ! Why wouldn't they ?" You frowned at his question but he looked surprised and simply smiled, looking pleased by your answer. "Say, you really aren't going to eat me ?" You asked quietly, looking at all of them, still suspicious.

"Of course not. You aren't a fish, [Name]." Luffy said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

-

It's been a few days and you got to know them more even though you avoided staying in the kitchen with Sanji for too long. He seemed nice, but you feared to see their fridge empty with only you to feed them.

But you didn't mind spending time with Luffy. He had easily made himself a cozy place in your heart with his smile and laugh and carefree personality.

They found out you had a pretty singing voice when you sang for Luffy, helping him fall asleep at night, and helping the rest of the crew on the same occasion.

They didn't mind that you sang only for him because you had a strong voice that the wind transported, accompanying them for the day.

Luffy would grin each time you sang to him, not noticing you wouldn't sing to the others. Loving your voice and the rhythm you sang to.

He'd sing with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and clapping his hands together. He sings a little out of tune at times but it always comes from the heart.

He'd often ask you to join his crew. After all, there's always a musician in a pirate crew, ready to sing their adventures and exploits.

[westwindy1]

Imagine that, occasionally, you spend your evenings walking down a gravel path. Someone with a shovel who doesn’t like gravel and feels a lot about it could clear it in maybe a month. However, you don’t care whether or not there’s gravel. The stones are so, so tiny. You don’t realize it, but whenever you walk down the path, one or two get kicked off into the forest. 

An average person wouldn’t live long enough to see all of the gravel gone. However, you don’t just have a shovel and a month or fifty years or a hundred. Of course, you just don’t walk down the path frequently enough to make scuffs in the ground nor to notice when stones are kicked off or dropped back onto the path, and yet what you do have is all the time in the world, and over the course of all those years, one day, you look down- and then you realize, “Oh, okay, the gravel’s gone.” You still don’t care. You keep walking. 

The Guardians are extraordinarily talented individuals. They are intensely smart with their own sets of skills, strengths and weaknesses- however, we as people exercise so many skills without realizing it.

  When people think of, “good at something,” besides genius, there is a different type of being good without trying- being good at something doesn’t always have something to do with intention- it doesn’t even have to have anything to do with talent. Sometimes it has everything to do with building experience. 

People get good at skills really fast. We practice these skills all the time constantly at every point of the day. Walking, talking, singing, sitting, doodling, tapping- you can’t go over a hundred years you can’t go over ten- without knowing anything about any one subject and what it means to draw a shape, to add a few numbers, to do it do often it becomes second nature, to know what it means to chart a map, to tell a direction, to run the sharp end of a carving knife against a block of wood, to do it so many times you forget what it means to catch, to dig to deep and chip or jerk a spade against a dip.

 People learn, and it's not even something you pick up on yourself until you’re confronted with someone who's struggling with the very same thing, like, “oh, I can do that, but I guess I’ve been doing it longer,” Or, “I’ve had a lot more time to get used to the idea of doodling.”

Immortal people can do things an average amount of times over the course of hundreds of years and not think about it- they don’t have to have an investment in or a care for the little things to get better than everyone else at the little things. Even if they’re not super consistent with it, the experiences stockpile.

That’s, for the Guardians, hundred of years of unutilized skills, for all of Bunny, Tooth, North, Sandy and especially for Jack, who is only three hundred seven/eighteen compared to their couple hundred more in a world where the Guardians are geniuses and, while he’s not particularly bad at anything -quite above average, actually- he just, well, isn’t.

Imagine a Jack whose, yeah, maybe he's not a math guy and maybe he can’t list all of the first five hundred numbers of pi off the top of his head, but he can match Bunny in any race- he’s had the practice, he’s run his way through many forests, whipped his way through hundreds of cities, even if he loses, he can do it with intense confidence. He can understand what North’s saying for the most part even after he starts going off about something like vibrating plates and old runes of the Greecian flavor and the psi of a Yeti in relation to the heavy-pressing arms of a manufacturing magic gizmo. He can follow along just as well as three times as many men, just operating without the right terms, listening to anyone dabbling in the Quantum, speaking something like collimators and quantum physics and micro and macro and particles and planes, because, yeah, he’s spent some time listening in.

Sure, he’s not a sing-ey type of guy, and he doesn’t care much for anything like humming but is good enough at it to pick up any tune at any time and to sing it at just the right pitch. Like, yeah, Tooth is the artist. Bunny is the artist, but also imagine a Jack who, even though he can’t draw a perfect portrait, of course he’d been able to draw a perfect circle within his first fifty years -within his first year- and if you gave him a pencil and an easel he might be able to whip up something fine if not a bit off, not that he’d give it much of a thought- but he’s spent enough time doodling on people’s windows to at least make that. He might not care much for the craft, but well, that doesn’t mean he can’t be good at it, and he’s old, so of course he’s had the time. 

There’s something intensely charming about a guy who is not necessarily good at things because he was born a genius at everything or because he was just inexplicably knowledgeable about a load of things, who is not necessarily a bookworm but who is someone who had to take the time to learn things.

He knows the process intimately, which provides a talent that most geniuses cannot- It makes him better. It makes him wiser. It makes him a teacher- an older brother.

I think that would make him a really good Guardian of Childhood.

It’s this very same skill that makes them all good Guardians, even if most of them lost track of how to do a lot of the right ‘guarding along the way.

[lorimnnn]

hey babez :3 could u possibly write about how michael feels for a hyperfemme bimbo gf? like he never sees her without heels and lashes on X3 this is shamelessly a self insert lol

i have no excuses. this has been sitting in my inbox and stewing in my mind for way too long but here it is!!! i was so excited to put it out I have no idea what happened lol

hope you enjoy my love!!

p.s. remember to reblog and comment!!!

cw: swearing, canon-typical violence, suggestive themes

~

i feel like a lot of the people who say he wouldn't care because he's literally a psychopathic serial killer forget he was born in 1957. He was literally raised in the sixties--- he won't care BUT HE'S GOING TO NOTICE.

michael is a watcher. long before he approached you he has memorised your routine, developed favourites from your closet, salivated over the doe-eyed batting of your long lashes when something doesn't quite go your way. you will later learn that your missing makeup products and fraying clothes is because of this fucker playing with you.

he's intrigued by you. the way you prance around without a care in the world, legs exposed, everything exposed. it's so scandalous. it feels like a sin to look at you alone.

the confidence that you carry yourself with only arouses him even more. he can't even fully objectify you because you know your worth and have standards and therefore he finds himself wondering what you're like. your personality. everything in between.

it becomes obsessive

when he approaches you, it's to extinguish his desire over your body. over you.

if he lets it go any further he'll---

are you... are you flirting with him?

he doesn't know how to feel with you looking directly at him, flinging comments his way despite knowing, KNOWING who he is. you're not even mistaken, you're just going for it even though he still has a knife in his hand

he already can't resist you

when you start running your hands down his body, he's done. just done.

if you're a bimbo in the 1960s (idfk you time travelled), you're going to be an outsider yourself and it makes him feel closer to you. you're practically a power couple--- two outsiders doing whatever the fuck you want with your lives? marriage. now.

you make him feel like a filthy old man. michael was raised with ideas of a white-picket fence and a busy 9-5 with a pretty wife to come home to. all that jazz. while he isn't that traditional you're going to be uprooting everything he once thought he knew and you best believe that when he looks at you, there is not one clean thought in his head

he becomes possessive tenfold. it doesn't help that you're dead gorgeous. will try stop you from leaving the house. will lock you and isolate you in there if he knew it wouldn't draw attention. why the fuck did you have to be so popular?

so many guys asking after you are now dead. and they keep popping up like flies--- Michael gets annoyed by this really easily. it's probably the only part of your getup and lifestyle that he doesn't really like. since he's a pretty independent killer and likes to go and do his own thing, it sets him on edge knowing he can't leave you alone for a minute without having like, 500 men pile up on his hit list

you get a free scary dog now at least. yay! privileges! feel free to walk wherever you want at whatever time of day or night. Michael will take care of you and castrate any man dumbass enough to even look your way

michael is so obsessed it's not okay

his favourite part about this though is watching you get ready. then tearing it all off you and watching you have to start again. you'll be doing your makeup and his hands will just be running up and down your legs, squeezing your thighs and waist, bruises left in his wake.

you'll be constantly swatting him away because he can't help himself. his hand is always on an exposed part of your skin

he just thinks you're so gorgeous and not in a loving way, but an inquisitive way. he's genuinely affronted by how good you look and he doesn't understand it, that explosive, sensual vitality of yours that can never be snuffed out and is so, uniquely you. he wants to pull you apart and understand you because just like him, you're an anomaly of your time

he already has a staring problem... can you imagine him now? he's not looking away once. it'll quickly get uncomfortable because he just won't stop. doesn't even wanna close his eyes when you're sleeping. everything you do to him is just provoking him. push his face away? he's going to steel himself and lean into your touch. shove him? he's a brick wall and thinks you're feeling him up. yell at him about it? he's unimpressed--- don't you get it? you're literally the centre of his world. why would he look away?

michael is literally feral for you i don't make the rules

tell him you've got nothing to wear and he will go and pick an outfit he's lowkey been fantasising about for a good month, waiting for the opportunity. and it's actually pretty good. depending on how you react, this will become his love language for you--- acts of service.

definitely starts targeting other bimbos and stealing from their closet to give you clothes.

i have a very clear image in my head of The Shape himself, prowling down the streets of Haddonfield and surveying the empty streets of the night, utterly ferocious as he hunts his next kill---

completely softening when his bimbo s/o, previously clinging to his arm like they're on a nightly stroll, trips over nothing.

if your feet ever start to hurt from the heels, he will happily carry you. but not in a cute way. as in a 'I want you around but you're holding me up. I'm going to sweep you off your feet now. Don't fall."

decorate his mask with lip prints

I dare you

you'd think he would hate it but it's been like a few weeks and the lip prints are still there. you know he loves it. he knows he loves it. he will always pretend to be indifferent though and it will surprise you every time. michael can care less about how scary he looks. even with his s/o making him look like a besotten college boyfriend, looking scary is the last of his worries when he's literally a famed killer.

since he's following you anyway, use his pockets. mechanics overalls have so many pockets. and he'll encourage you. if you ever end up walking around at night with him and start complaining that you forgot your lipgloss at home, he's going to suddenly be holding out his hand--- he's a walking, non-talking, portable storage bin and be grateful because this is his only way of showing non-physical affection lmao. i fully suggest you take advantage of this. he doesn't need his pockets anyway, he holds his knife. so feel free to stock him up and rummage around as much as you like

but be warned. if you touch him in the slightest when retrieving your lipgloss from one of his pockets, he's going to think you're sending signals.

holds all your specialists at knife point so you can get your stuff done for free. if you don't like that, just tell him. but he thinks he's helping you lmfao. your poor nail girl is pissing herself trying to glue on your acrylics

just give him lots of kisses to fuel up for the day and he's good (he will stand there and act unresponsive and neutral, but if you don't give him his daily dose of affection he's going to continue to stand there, blocking your path until you do)

and don't be fooled, either. Michael may be soft on you but he is not a soft man

definitely takes sick pleasure in seeing his bruises peeking out of your skimpy clothes, his marks on full display on your neck. it's just so territorial and it's one of the few things that is able to send a rush through him--- knowing that everyone wants you and that you're walking prey, but you've already been claimed

is like an animal around you. give him one signal and you will definitely be devoured--- i hope you don't spend a lot of money on clothes because you're going to find a lot of it destroyed. better learn how to sew

just think of him as your pet rabid dog. full stop.

otherwise i actually think Michael loves his hyperfemme bimbo gf. not that he'll admit it, but you know. he's horrible at hiding it but it has a lot to do with the fact he doesn't try. just stay out of trouble and he won't wreck havoc on your life <3

Michael has always been an outsider.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he'd become a killer as a kid, although that was the first and most obvious sign. Growing up in the sanitarium had only conditioned him into believing he could never be anything else and that his only mercy would be embracing it. Funny. Now he was rumoured to be the devil incarnate: the ultimate outsider.

But that wasn't the point.

Even if Michael weren't a killer, he'd always been different. A flimsy grasp on emotions and even clumsier responses to things that were supposed to inspire sympathy. Sadness. Pity. The in-between emotions that weren't quite happy but weren't quite sad or angry or scared. But he'd just been slow in development, right? One day it would end and he would wake up and be like the rest of them. It had been a naive thought--- it had gotten Judith killed.

The sanitarium also taught Michael other things, other than the fact that he would never belong in society as anything more than a menace and disruption. He learned that he was a rarity. Some sort of unexplainable anomaly that they had to contain because they couldn't understand, and because he didn't care about changing that, he would never be free. The sanitarium had taught Michael that people feared him because there weren't many of him. So he gave them something real to fear.

He never really came across someone like him. It wouldn't have really changed things, but it would have added bredth to perspective. But Michael would soon find out that anomalies like him came in all shapes and sizes. Anomalies, like you, were just as strange, even if you fit in much better than he did.

You.

He didn't know what to make of you.

"Hey sexy!" A drunkard's voice floated over the heads over the bar and stabbed right into your back. You only wrinkled your nose.

"Um, ew!"

"Aw, don't be like that. You don't mean that." His eyes raked over you. "Looking for anybody, hey? I can save you the time you spend searching."

You look like you're about to gag. "No. Like, never. In a kajillion years."

"Bitch."

"What's the word again?" You frowned. "The men with no dicks?"

"... Eunuchs?"

"Yeah!" You beamed. "That's you. 'Cause you have no balls."

His friends roared in laughter as red crawled over the man's face. You were satisfied enough by then to move on. You knew he wasn't done. He'd probably try follow you home. That made you smirk.

You had a little magic trick up your sleeve for little diseases like them. A magic trick you weren't even sure knew that you knew he existed: Michael fucking Myers.

Michael didn't understand what it was about you that stuck out so much. You were here at the bar for what every other person was there for. Talk. Drink. Fuck, maybe, if you got lucky that was. You were all dolled up like every other woman in the room but it was like the spotlight was naturally attracted to you and he couldn't look away. Was it that tiny little skirt? Your tits pressed up towards your chin by a tight little top? You were so scandalously dressed and hid nothing. Your intentions were clear and yet somehow that repelled people the same way it drew them in.

Michael could tell you were like him. You couldn't relate to the conversations. The difference was that you tried to. They'd just laugh at you and walk away--- another dead tonight.

How long has it been, now? Since he'd started stalking you? A few days? Weeks? Months?

It had never occurred to him that you could be doing it on purpose. Changing with your blinds wide open, bending over when you caught a glimpse of him standing there in your mirror. But the obsession had gripped him. There was no escaping.

And it was distracting him horribly.

You would die tonight, he decided. These... Feelings would die with you.

It all happens in moments.

Him, following you home.

Him, raising the knife above his head.

You, turning before it could meet home, pressing your body against his.

"I knew you'd say hi one day."

Michael stops. Tilts his head.

"Not like this, though." You pout. You run your finger down the cheek of his mask and along the zipper of his mechanic's overalls. Your touch is electric and he can nearly feel it against his skin, the thrills exploding at the slightest pressure. "I'm honestly kind of hurt."

He could kill you now.

Maybe give you a chance to run?

Having you see him and speak directly to him, though, is a dizzying feeling he can't quite seem to recover from. But from the outside he looks stoic. He looks like he's humouring you before your inevitable death, which you inwardly frantically hope against.

"Michael, right?" You taste the word, curiously finding your way around it. "Mikey."

He stares at you impassively.

"I thought you had a crush on me." You draw circles into his chest with your finger and tilt your head back to look at him. "Did I get it wrong?"

Er... Not really.

You were either really dumb or maybe just---

Maybe a little weird like him.

Michael slowly lowers the knife. You take it as an olive branch and push yourself further against him, hard enough to feel the contours of his toned stomach and the rippling valleys of his body. Muscular. Well, he was a serial killer. You could put that thought away for now, though.

"I've been dying for you to talk to me all week. What took you so long?" You bite your lip. "I almost went and talked to you myself. Oh. Oooh. Maybe I should have. I think you're more excited than I am that we're finally talking."

Experimentally, his hand comes up to take hold of your throat. He inspects you--- your long, fake lashes framing filthy doe eyes, the sparkling smear of eyeshadow across your lid that matches your abnormally long and sharp nails. The confidence in which you hold yourself despite being at the mercy of The Shape himself. Genuine.

You're being genuine.

And Michael is... Feeling things. A lot of things. It's almost overwhelming, the onslaught of arousal, the heightened obsession, the near-desperate desire to possess you right there and then---

Mine, he thinks, and he almost says it out loud. Mine.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

See, it should have been straightforward – as straightforward as your girlfriend dating her ex who just happens to be your ex-enemy and current maybe-best-friend-but-who-knows-I-sometimes-want-to-punch-him could ever be – but of course Jamie fucking Tartt had to go and make it complicated.

“You wanna date me,” he summarized with eyes peeled on Keeley, who nodded. “You’re still with Roy, but you wanna date me.”

“Yeah,” Keeley agreed. “Is that okay? I mean, do you—?”

“Yeah, no, it’s good, yeah. I can— We can date, that’d be fucking mint.” 

“Oh.” Relief then on Keeley’s face, quickly morphing into a smile. “Great!” And she stepped forward, reaching up to pull Jamie’s head down for a kiss. It was quite chaste, just a quick thing really, but it left both of them slightly flushed and Roy feeling oddly like someone had punched him in his gut, only in a good way. 

That was fucking weird. 

“Great.” Jamie’s grin as he and Keeley broke apart was brilliant, blinding.

“Great,” Keeley said again (a little unnecessarily, Roy thought; how great could it fucking be?). 

“Great,” Roy agreed, mostly not to be left out of the discussion.

Keeley giggled – she actually fucking giggled and Roy would have been pissed about that if her giggle didn’t always make his shrunken coal piece of a heart feel like it had actual blood flowing through it, warm and lifegiving. Her lips were soft against his; her smile softer still as she ran a hand down his cheek. 

And okay, that did things to his heart too, soothing, like, and exciting at the same time. 

At the sound of Roy’s voice, Jamie had turned to stare at him. Now a frown furrowed his pretty brow and he cocked his head to the side, gesturing to himself and to Roy. “Do we, um… do we kiss too?”

“I –“ Roy blinked. This had not been part of the conversation he and Keeley had had prior to seeking Jamie out. “No. I mean. I don’t know.” Did he ought to? Was that good sharing-a-girlfriend etiquette? 

Jamie pursed his lips, and glanced at Keeley. Roy did too, helplessly and hoping for some guidance. She met his stare with eyes widened and a shrug. If you want to, she mouthed, but with a slightly impatient curl to her lips that suggested don’t look to me, you figure it out.

“Uh,” Roy said, eloquently.

Characteristically unimpressed, Jamie rolled his eyes. “It’s just a kiss, mate, not fucking rocket salad surgery.”

“No, I know that, but, I— I’m just not sure I fancy other men!”

Jamie had the gall to look offended at that. Incredulous, as if the notion of someone not fancying him was just too outragoues to be contemplated. “Yeah, well,” he drawled. “I’m not just any man, mate. I’m Jamie fucking Tartt.” 

And with that he moved, slowly as if to give Roy the chance to shy away, but without any hesitation, as cocky and confident as ever he was on the pitch. He stepped close, right up into Roy’s personal space, and reached out to cup the back of his head. Added, with a wicked glimmer in his eyes, “And I’m a fucking great kisser.”

Jamie was a great fucking kisser, as it turned out. Fucking infuriating, that, and Roy would be sure to take a moment to be absolutely livid about it later, when he wasn’t so busy being turned on. 

Drawing in a deep breath as he drew back from Jamie, he looked up to catch Keeley’s jubliant gaze. “Yeah, okay,” he allowed. “this is gonna work.”

[sukibenders]

"Why did they make Michael into Michaela? They took away one of the hottest men in Bridgeton now!" Okay, now it's one of the hottest women in the show. What's the issue now? Still got Francesca and Michael, in a way.

"Francesca's infertility plotline is ruined now! It was so important in the books!" Why can't she still have this particular plot, while still being with Michaela? Why is that suddenly erased now that Michael is a woman? Do you not believe that sapphic woman can't also struggle with infertility? There are multiple ways that the show can still incorporate this.

"Why are they making everyone gay now? It was fine when it was just Benedict but now-" I'm going to stop you right there. What's wrong with having more than one queer character? There are multiple straight people in the show, and in most forms of media, but you draw the line at having more than one gay/queer person? Imagine what it's like for other queer people to not be represented or to only have that one person be a vessel for the entire community. Doesn't sound very fair right? Another thing, because I see a lot of people who say this call themselves "allies", it doesn't sound very supportive when you say things like this. It doesn't instill confidence in your support for the queer community when you can't even fathom the possibility of more than one queer person on your screen without complaint. It's okay to be a little bummed out about the change, but to use rhetoric like above feels very...it leaves a sour taste in the mouth personally.

[pocket-watcher]

Two men who can hypnotize with dance decide to mesmerize each other for their own purposes. They pair up, dance and fall into a trance from each other.

Ooo this is such an interesting concept. Hypnosis through dance? Let me see…

The room was packed.

Of course it was, Caleb thought.

He watched nervously as the crowd mingled and the quartet finished their number.

It was a special mission. Locate the target, coerce him into joining Caleb back to HQ.

Caleb scanned the room.

The only problem was how slippery this particular target had proven in the past

Laughter, dancing, even a few couples who had clearly forgot they were in public… but no sign of Leo.

Would Caleb spot him in time? He had to. It was all riding on him to bring the bastard in willingly.

Okay, maybe willingly was the wrong word. Hypnotised to comply, if we’re worrying about semantics.

Everything was in place. Special gear, decoys littered through the room, and a comm in his ear which he could ask for backup if needed.

Not that that was an option. He had to prove he could do this alone. He’d be the one to take Leo down.

Speak of the devil, Caleb spotted Leo topping up his champagne with some blonde woman’s glass whilst she was distracted.

Caleb scoffed at Leo’s audacity, at which point Leo caught his eye and winked, placing the empty glass back in her hand and b-lining towards the dance floor.

His hair flowed behind him as he effortlessly weaved in and out of the crowd, never breaking eye contact.

Perfect, Caleb thought.

Intersecting Leo was easy. Caleb simply swept him off his feet.

Literally.

A leg to trip him up, a hand on his waist to steady him, and the two were dancing.

All according to plan.

He rocked Leo back and forth in perfect 4/4 time. Together and apart, spinning him in dizzying circles.

Around and around.

Back and forth.

Caleb pulled him in close, and by the way Leo lingered he could tell the other man was starting to feel the effects of his dance moves.

Spin.

Dip.

Was Leo clumsy from the champagne and twirling or was he giving in?

Leo’s half-lidded stare was locked on Caleb. The only thing in focus being his iron stare. Bringing him deeper. Drawing Leo in.

The two kept up their mesmerising momentum.

Not only that, but the subliminal lyrics Caleb snuck into the performance (thank you for the performance, Madeline dear, your voice is siren-esq) had Leo eating out of the palm of his hand.

Perhaps it was too easy.

Caleb watched as the other man’s head rocked, eyes unfocused. Now, just to invite him into the corridor when…

Leo pulled Caleb close, taking the lead suddenly.

What?!

Had that just been an act?

Caleb felt his confidence falter.

Leo closed the proximity suddenly, leading to Caleb taking a sharp inhale.

And he recognised the scent a moment too late.

Sneaky bastard, Caleb thought whilst he still could.

Caleb felt the world around him slowly drift out of focus as he glared daggers at Leo. That cocky smirk, who the hell wears a drugged-up cologne like that unless-

Unless…

Gliding.

Spinning.

Caleb’s head was spinning.

He kept his stare.

There were doubles of Leo’s golden-brown eyes now. His laughter was like honey. Caleb found himself laughing along, unsure of the joke.

He needed… someone… there were eyes everywhere… why wasn’t someone helping him?

Leo dipped him deeper, making Caleb’s stomach drop suddenly. His face was red. He’d drank too much? Wait, no. That’s not right. He never drank on missions…

The music had ended a while ago. Or had it? Leo tucked a curl behind Caleb’s ear, masterfully removing his comm and crushing it under his heel.

Instinctively. Robotically.

Next went the watch; Leo’s skilled hands like butter and it was off Caleb’s wrist and into his champagne glass, crackling and fizzing.

Still never breaking eye contact.

But, if Caleb’s senses weren’t melting together into endless bliss, maybe he’d notice that Leo was slower than usual. Sluggish. Distracted.

Both men too preoccupied with trancing each other they’d barely noticed their own state before it was too late.

Falling over each other, they sleepily made their way out of the gala.

Mission complete.

[lesbian-dp]

Learning the Ropes

Kinktober 2022

Day Seven

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 1,389

Warnings: Virginity, breeding, guidance, nervousness, strap on

Request: Nah.

Summary: Natasha brings the confidence back to a nervous reader.

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not my pics)

18+ ONLY

---

You were nervous. Gripping onto the leather steering wheel, feeling the texture under your thumbs as you rubbed them into the object, the squeaking of your hand movements against the wheel filled the car, along with your deep patterned breaths, trying to calm yourself.

"Okay, you breathed, nodding to yourself in assurance, before you exited your car, ready for what the night would bring. Or as ready as you could be.

You only had to wait less than ten seconds for the wooden door to swing open after you rapped against it three times. And when it did, the breath got caught in your throat when you saw the woman on the other side.

In tight black jeans, Calvin Klein sports bra, with red hair cascading down her shoulders, stood Natasha Romanoff.

"Hi."

"You're nervous," Natasha stated, reading you instantly, with only one look.

"I... you need to stop being so good at that."

"And you need to relax." She smiled, reaching over to grab your wrist, and tugged you into her home before closing the door behind you. "Go sit down, and I'll grab you a drink."

"Okay," you breathed to yourself for the first time in less than five minutes. Moving over to the sofa and taking a seat.

Natasha came back not long later to see you rubbing your palms against your jean-covered things out of anxiety, an open bottle of cold beer in hand.

"Here," she passed off the alcohol before swinging a leg over your thighs and taking her own seat on your lap.

"Jesus, are you trying to make me feel worse?"

"Don't worry," the red-head hummed, peppering kisses across your cheek while you took your first sip of the hoppy liquid, "You'll be fine when you're fucking the shit outta me later."

With her words, you choked on the beer out of surprise, spitting it out around the lip of the bottle, letting it trickle down your chin.

Natasha chuckled attractively, moving to lick up the spilt droplets of booze from your chin, trailing her tongue up along your lips, before drawing back once again with a seductive smirk upon your face.

"Are you ready to take this to the bedroom?"

Blinking and finally closing your gaping mouth, you replied, "Can I finish my beer first?"

You didn't get a chance to finish your beer.

It had moved to the bed, Natasha straddling your lap once again, hands upon your cheeks, kissing you deeply. The only difference? She had removed her sports bra. Tits spilt out in front of you, the red-head moaning into your mouth as you massaged her globes lovingly.

With a roll of her hips, she found what she was looking for. She hummed against your lips, smiling successfully. Before she pulled away, showing you her beautiful face.

"I see you wore it like I told you to."

"Well, I uh, I didn't want to disappoint."

Still sensing your anxiety, Natasha came closer to your face, comfortingly rubbing your cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs.

As her nose nudged against yours, she hummed, "I guarantee you will definitely not disappoint."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I've slept with many people in my time-"

"Not filling me with confidence there, Nat."

The red-head tried to push the smile from her face, failing miserably, as she shook her head, "-But, from my experience, the ones who are most nervous and think they will not perform well are the ones who fuck the best. When somebody is confident about losing their virginity, thinking they will be amazing, are the ones who last less than a minute and don't know where the clit is."

"So... men."

"Pretty much." Natasha nodded with a humoured smile. "Now, where were we?"

You stopped her as she leaned in closer to kiss you once more.

"Wait, wait. But I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Don't worry about that. That doesn't mean you'll be bad. And anyway, I'm here to guide you."

And with that, Natasha pushed at your chest, sending you tumbling back into the bed, bracketing you in with her arms, tits hanging just above your face.

"If this is how I go, I'd die happy."

Natasha giggled sweetly, "I'd prefer if you didn't. I still really want to fuck you."

"Glad to know you want me," you smirked.

"You don't know how bad I want you. I've wanted you for so long now."

"God, keep saying those nice things to me, and I might just explode."

"Kinky," she giggled into your warm neck, nibbling at the sensitive gently, scattering a few marks here and there as a reminder of this night for days to come.

It didn't take Natasha long to get you both fully undressed and to hover above you, ready to take your strap and walk you through everything. Keen to take all the pleasure you were undoubted going to deliver upon her.

"Are you ready?"

"I... I think so..."

The red-head leaned in closer, lowering her voice to repeat her question, "Are you ready?"

With the way her green eyes swirled darkly above you, you were suddenly filled with untapped confidence. Nodding assuredly, you replied, "You fuckin' betcha."

Natasha smirked, keeping eye contact with you as she moved a hand down to grab the strap, digging through her soaked pussy, wetting the toy before slowly feeding it into her hot core. Her eyes rolled closed as pleasure-filled gasps fell from her lips.

"Oh, God. You feel so good."

"I haven't even done anything yet."

"No, but you will," she stated, hands on your chest as she began riding you slowly, "And when you do. I know that it's going to be so much better than it already is."

Natasha straightened up, hands now upon her knees as she slowly rode you.

"Now, put your hands on my hips, and control my movements."

"But I don't know what you like."

"Trust me, I'll let you know when you do."

Deciding to take her word for it, you timidly placed your hands on her soft waist, trailing your fingers down to her hips. Guiding her hesitantly until she released a sudden gasped moan, and you grew more confident in your movements.

Before long, Natasha had her head thrown back and crying out to the heavens, breasts bouncing with every movement.

"Fuck, I need more," the red-head panted, blown eyes gazing down at you, almost pleadingly.

"W-What do you want me to do?"

"Start thrusting your hips up- Oh, fuck. That's it!" she cried out, collapsing into your chest, bracing herself upon her forearms, moaning with her eyes scrunched closed above your face.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," you husked, receiving a heavy kiss in return, her palms coming up to hold your cheeks,

 as she bounced with every thrust she met.

Pants brushed against your lips, Natasha's foreheads rested against yours, eyes still closed, as she basked in the pleasure you gave her. Her pants doon turned into short, high-pitched moans.

"God, I'm gonna come."

"Already?" you asked, voice containing the shock you felt. Assuming that you would only get the beautiful woman to come once. If you were lucky.

The red-head nodded hastily with a hum.

Reaching for your hand on her hip Natasha dragged it down to her core. Instantly, you knew what she was wordlessly asking for, taking initiative by rubbing your thumb against her swollen clit.

A few seconds later, Natasha moaned loudly, shaking, eyes rolling into her skull, while her orgasm shot through her. Hips jutted randomly as she came down from her high.

"Shit, that was so good."

You beamed up at the woman, blush tinting your cheeks at her compliment.

Natasha's forefinger trailed from your cheekbone, down your cheek, all the way across your jawline, just gazing at you lovingly.

Moving closer, she muttered, "Now, I want you to flip me onto my back, fuck me into the mattress, and act like you're gonna fill me to the brim with your cum."

The red-head squealed as you did just as she said, bouncing against the bed, goggling up at you with her hands pushing at your chest.

"As you wish, beautiful."

"Well, look who's got their confidence back." She wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you down to her face. "It's really fucking hot."

---

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