#the more i write the more i want to make this into a fic

[hueseok]

it was always you.

for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.

so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts

warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken

opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗

“Any questions?”

A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”

You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.

You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”

More than half of the class raises their hands.

“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”

A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.

“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”

The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.

There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.

Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.

“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.

“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”

You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.

“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”

“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”

“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”

“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”

“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”

He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”

“You didn’t?”

He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.

“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.

Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.

It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.

It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.

At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.

“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”

“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”

Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.

He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”

You wince.

“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”

“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”

“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”

“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”

“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.

“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.

“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.

He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”

“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For being the last person to know about your condition.”

“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”

“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”

Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”

“I can make space for you.”

Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?

You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”

“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”

“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”

“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.

“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.

“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.

“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”

“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”

“Okay.”

****

When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.

He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.

And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment. 

He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.

Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.

“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.

Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her.” 

“You’re in love with her.”

“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”

Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”

“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”

“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”

“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”

He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”

“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”

“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.

Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, to fuck you up.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.

You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world. 

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.

“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.

Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”

He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.

“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”

The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”

“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”

“Precisely.”

“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”

“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”

 You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”

You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”

“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.

He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”

“Hell no.”

“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.

“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”

He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”

“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”

The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.

You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.

When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.

After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.

He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt. 

“That’s no need, Kook.”

“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”

So, you allow him.

It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.

“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”

“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”

Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”

“Agreed.”

You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”

Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.

“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.

“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”

You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.

You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”

There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”

You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”

“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”

“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”

“You should be.” You grumble.

Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. 

He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”

You blushed.

Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”

You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”

“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.

It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”

You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”

“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.

He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”

You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”

You cackled. “Deal.”

56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours. 

****

You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”

The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.

“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”

“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”

You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”

“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”

“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”

Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”

“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”

“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”

“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”

Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”

“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”

“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”

“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”

There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.

“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.

“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”

“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”

“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.

You hang up and glance at the door.

You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.

He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.

As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect. 

Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.

Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack

You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.

You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw

Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first

You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.

However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.

Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind

You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.

You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.

He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.

Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.

“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.

“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.

You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”

“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”

“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”

“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”

He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”

“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”

He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.

Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.

“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”

You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.

“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.

He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.

“Blue bag,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.

It’s the insulin this time. You grab the unopened syringe, rip it out from its packet, insert it to the vial of insulin—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing.

“Let me do it,” he says.

You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he administers the insulin through your shoulder, a huge and long exhale escapes you.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”

“____—”

“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.

In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.

“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.

“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.

Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?

“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.

“Four months, I think.”

“Four months? And you already brought him home?”

You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”

“You must really like him then.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”

“Does he treat you well?”

You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”

“What’s with it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.

“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”

“But I’m not your brother.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.

He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.

“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.

You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in injecting yourself with insulin, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.

“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.

“Jungkook—”

“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.

You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”

“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated. 

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”

“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”

“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”

“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”

“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”

“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”

“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”

Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.

Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.

Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.

You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”

He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”

You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.

“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.

It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.

You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”

His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!

He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.

“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.

“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”

Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.

“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.

“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”

“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”

And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.

It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.

However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.

“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.

You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.

“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.

It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.

“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”

You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.

“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”

You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.

He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.

He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”

You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.

It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.

Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.

“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.

You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you’re his. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.

You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.

You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”

****

“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh. 

He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.

Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.

“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”

You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.

“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.

“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.

“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.

The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.

Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss. 

He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”

“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”

“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”

“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”

You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”

Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.

You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.

“What?” you ask.

“Please never do that in front of me again.”

His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”

A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”

“We’re not—”

“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”

He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”

You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.

A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”

You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”

When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”

You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.

You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.

“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.

You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.

Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.

You: look how cute we look 🥹

You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.

If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.

thank you for reading! as i live for positive reinforcement, feedback is always appreciated ♡

[tender-rosiey]

hello, love! i hope you're doing great! i love reading your works and thank you so much for writing such beautiful pieces 🫶🏻

soooo... i was thinking of making a request! i'm not sure if you've written about this or not and please feel free to ignore it if you're uncomfortable with writing it or if you've already written it but here's the request:

satoru with newborn twin daughters 🥹

i noticed that there are almost no twin dad gojo fics and we already know that he's a girl dad. plus, i love your writing style. hence this thought. again, thank you so much for your hard work, rose! stay hydrated and have a great day! byeeee!

twin girls (and gojo ig) — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: i cant believe it took me like 7 months to finally post this; i am so sorry 🙏 BUT i am so so happy that you like my works and srsly thank you for your sweet words. they mean the world 🥹 hope that you like this as well! have a wonderful day!! 🫶🫶

the only thing worse than having one girl you can’t say no to is having two.

add to that the fact that satoru is already a softie when it comes to his daughters, and it’s a recipe for disaster—if you’re not there to intervene.

"papa, I want a dress!" one of your twins looks up at satoru with wide, sparkling eyes, her hands tugging at the hem of his shirt.

her sister quickly chimes in, her voice a little shyer but just as determined. "I-I want a dress too, papa!"

satoru crouches down to their level, hands on his knees as he looks between his two little girls, his white hair falling messily into his eyes.

“two dresses, huh?” his voice takes on a faux-serious tone. “what kind of dresses are we talking about?”

“sparkly!”

“twirly!”

“pink!”

“blue!”

their voices rise with excitement, and satoru’s grin only grows wider as he listens, nodding as though their demands are being carefully cataloged in his mind.

you can’t help but smile from the doorway, watching the scene unfold. his enthusiasm when it comes to them is both endearing and ridiculous.

"satoru," you call out, interrupting his train of thought. your arms are crossed, and a teasing smile plays on your lips. "we agreed they only need one dress each, remember?"

he turns toward you with a playful pout, the twins following his gaze.

“they’re my princesses, wifey! how can I deny them a little extra sparkle?” he says, completely unbothered by the parental negotiations you both agreed on just yesterday.

you raise an eyebrow, taking a few steps closer and placing a hand on his arm. “you’ll be sleeping on the couch if they come home with more than one each.”

satoru's expression shifts immediately, an exaggerated look of surrender plastered on his face as he straightens up, holding up his hands. "alright, alright. one dress each. promise."

later that evening, when you return home, your twin girls are twirling around in front of you in two dresses each—one sparkly, one twirly, naturally.

your gaze falls on satoru, who stands casually leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, whistling as if he’d done nothing wrong.

“satoru,” you pout, “I thought we had an agreement.”

he gives you a cheeky grin and a shrug, completely unbothered. “they were on sale,” he says as if that justifies everything.

the girls, oblivious to your exasperation, giggle and show off their new outfits, spinning around in excitement.

"mama, look! don't we look pretty?"

"yeah, mama! we look pretty, right?"

you press your lips into a thin line, but the fondness in your eyes betrays you. you sigh and ruffle their hair, "yes, very pretty, both of you."

the girls squeal in happiness and run around the house in their excitement. your husband nudges your arm gently with a teasing smile. you quirk an eyebrow before pushing him away with a chuckle.

you can never deny that you love seeing them so happy, even if it means satoru has bent the rules—again.

of course, life with your husband and your twin girls is a whirlwind. even bedtime is an adventure (read: a battle).

one night, the girls are bouncing off the walls in their matching pajamas, their giggles filling the room as they run circles around satoru, who’s sitting at the edge of the bed, utterly failing to get them under control.

"alright, time to settle down," he says, his tone light but lacking any real authority. the girls shake their heads as their dad is simply not cut out to be the strict parent in their eyes.

however, when he opens his arms, one of the girls takes the chance to climb his lap. his hand ruffles her hair, and she hums happily .

"papa, can we have three stories tonight?" the twin on his lap asks, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

her sister, not wanting to miss out, rushes over and clings to his other arm. "no! I want four stories!"

satoru sighs dramatically, glancing over at you for backup. you are sitting like the boss you are on the loveseat in the room. you look up when you feel your husband's eyes on you.

“they only get one story,” you remind him, trying not to laugh at his predicament.

satoru looks between the two girls, their wide eyes fixed on him. “alright, alright,” he finally concedes, holding up two fingers. “two stories. that’s my final offer.”

he hears you groan, and his heart breaks at disappointing you, but he can’t just say no to them. the twins cheer as if they’ve won a war, grabbing their favorite books from the bedside table.

it takes you a few moments before you smile helplessly as you watch him negotiate with them like it’s a high-stakes sorcery mission. it's not long before your daughters fall asleep. satoru's voice has always been comfort incarnate for them.

"you’re too soft," you tease as you walk over to him, pinching his nose—he yelps as quietly as he can, so you plant a soft kiss on his temple.

he leans into your touch for a moment, closing his eyes. "can’t help it," he mutters, "they’ve got your charm.”

afternoons are no less chaotic, especially at the park, where the twins drag satoru toward the swings, their little hands gripping his fingers as they bounce excitedly.

"papa, push me higher!" one demands, already settling onto the swing.

"me too! higher!" her sister echoes, scrambling onto the swing beside her.

satoru stands behind them, cracking his knuckles.

“higher, huh? I think I can manage that.” he gives the first swing a firm push, sending one of the twins soaring up, her laughter filling the air.

you sit on the third swing, smiling at the scene.

satoru looks over at you, his grin softening as his eyes meet yours. the way their laughter fills the atmosphere fills your heart, and you can tell that satoru feels the same.

at least, until he decides to push you and make you take full 360s on the swing.

“wow, mama is swinging!”

“in a circle!”

“satoru, I will kill you!!”

"waiting for that, wifey!"

dinner, as always, is an ongoing fight. tonight, the twins are in full protest mode against their vegetables.

"I don’t like broccoli," one twin pouts, pushing her plate away.

"me neither," her sister adds, crossing her arms as if this decision has been made final.

satoru, ever their ally in mischief, leans back in his chair, his expression far too relaxed. "well, I guess no one’s eating broccoli tonight," he says, clearly enjoying this little act of rebellion.

while you're proud of your girls backing each other up, you rather it not be right now. you shoot satoru a warning glance, shaking your head with a sigh. "they need to eat their veggies, satoru."

he shrugs, smirking lazily as he glances at the twins. “they’re gojo kids. I think they’ll survive without a little broccoli.”

the twins giggle, clearly siding with him. but you know how to play this game too; otherwise, you would have never been able to handle the man child beside you. “okay, fine,” you say with a sly smile. “no dessert if they don’t eat their veggies.”

the girls’ eyes go wide in horror, and they quickly turn to their father, their last hope. “papa, no! we want dessert!”

caught between you and the twins, satoru sighs dramatically, like he’s being asked to sacrifice everything.

“alright, alright, princesses,” he concedes, hands raised in defeat. “but you’ve gotta eat the broccoli if you want dessert. we gotta listen to mama.”

the twins reluctantly pick at their plates, eyeing the broccoli with disdain, but determined to make it to dessert.

you exchange a triumphant smile with satoru, who just rolls his eyes playfully.

and in the quieter moments, when the twins are asleep, and it’s just the two of you, he wraps his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I don’t know how you do it,” he murmurs softly. “keeping us all in line.”

you smile, leaning into his touch, “someone’s gotta make sure we don’t end up with a house full of sparkly dresses.”

satoru laughs quietly, pulling you closer. “what can I say? I’m weak when it comes to you three.”

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[bellaveux]

hihihihi ur one of my favvv writers and i just wanna request a fic with nat and fem reader where reader doesnt know what overstimulating someone during it is and asks nat what it is and nat demonstrates to reader until she passes out. u dont have to write it if ur uncomfrotblr

JUST ONE MORE | n. romanoff x fem!reader

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: natasha gets distracted from her work and refuses to pay attention to anything else but you.

content warnings: 18+ minors dni. smut; top!natasha, bottom!reader, inexperienced!reader kind of, lots of teasing, fingering (r! receiving), oral (r!receiving), heavy overstimulation, squirting, nat is pretty soft/and in love with reader

word count: 6.3k

Natasha remembered the day she bought this apartment, the weight of the key cool and solid in her hand as she stood in the empty, sunlit space, imagining what it would look like with you in it. It was a while ago now, but she could still recall the nervousness that buzzed under her skin when she’d asked you to move in with her. The apartment was perfect—spacious, private, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city where the both of you could breathe and just… be. It was the first place that had felt like hers in a long time, away from all those safe houses, not wanting to be moving around constantly, but from the moment you said yes, it belonged to the both of you.

Over time, the apartment transformed in small, meaningful ways. A coffee mug you had picked out sat by the sink, a stack of your favorite books now lined up on the living room shelves, and your soft blankets were draped over the back of the couch. Natasha found herself noticing these small changes—the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air, the framed photographs on the walls she always took of you, some you’ve taken of her—and each one made the space feel more like home. Yet no matter how many pieces of you filled the apartment, it never felt like enough. She always wanted more—more of you, more of the softness you brought into her life. God, she would do anything for you.

You sat curled on the couch just a few feet away, the hum of the TV filling the otherwise silent room. Your legs were tucked beneath you, a slight smile playing on your lips as you watched some old movie. Natasha sat at the dining room table, an open area right by the living room where you were watching, the dim glow of her laptop casting soft shadows across her face as she thumbed through a stack of confidential files. She glanced over the top of her files every now and then, her sharp green eyes flickering from the text to her laptop, then to you. Each time she stole a glance, she noticed the same thing—the faint, almost imperceptible blush that dusted your cheeks. 

The warmth in your face was unmistakable, soft and endearing, and it tugged at something deep in Natasha, something she couldn’t ignore. The way your cheeks flushed when you knew she was looking, the way you pretended to be engrossed in the screen but kept glancing at her out of the corner of your eye—it was subtle, but to Natasha, it was clear. She could see everything—she always sees everything. It was what she was good at.

She let out a small sigh, her attention drifting more towards you than the files in front of her. Her eyes lingered on you as you pretended to pay attention to whatever was playing on the TV, the soft glow from the screen highlighting the delicate blush blooming across your cheeks. The way your lips parted slightly, your breath catching every now and then as you tried to focus on the movie. You were trying to act composed, but you were failing miserably.

Natasha shifted her gaze, observing you more closely. Your thighs were pressed together, your movements subtle but telling, a slow, restless rubbing as though you couldn’t quite sit still. And then it clicked. It wasn’t just her attention that was making you flustered.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Natasha’s lips as realization settled in. You were horny.

She had seen you like this many times before—innocent, yet not. She absolutely loved seeing you like this. It turned her on to see you like this. In fact, she memorized this look. Natasha’s eyes darkened with amusement and desire, watching as you shifted again, your thighs tightening against one another. There was something achingly sweet about it, how you didn’t fully realize how obvious your need had become.

She could often get so lost in her daydreams when she would look at you like this. In fact, she can’t even seem to focus on anything in the room except you anymore—the files on her desk, now closed, tossed and forgotten. She’d imagine all the things she’d do to you, all those dirty things she fantasizes about—that innocent look in your eyes when you’d look up at her, how soft your thighs are, how she’d never get tired of using her hands to spread your legs apart just for her to see, to dive into. The merest thought of your soft, wet pussy filling her mind was enough to make her groan, eyes and head rolling back as she thought of you.

“Natasha?” She heard you say, your voice soft and curious.

Her eyes fluttered open, her green orbs meeting yours as she slowly took a deep breath. You don’t miss the way her eyes rake up and down your body, stopping for a moment where your short, lace-trimmed night dress meets the curve of your ass, almost inviting her to come closer.

Distracted now, Natasha let out a quiet breath, the focus she once had on the files completely evaporating. She tossed one of the documents across the dining table, its pages fanning out as it slid to the edge. Her eyes were locked on you, her mind already far from the contents of the reports. She leaned back in her chair, her gaze intense yet soft as she watched you shift on the couch, still blushing, still subtly squirming. The sight sent a warm wave through her, a tug of affection laced with something deeper, more primal. Feral.

“Detka,” she said, her words coming out lowly and seductively. “Come here.”

And you don’t waste another second. Your reaction was instant. Your body tensed for a brief moment, your wide, innocent eyes flickering toward Natasha. But there was no hesitation. You stood almost immediately, your movements a little shy, but your legs carrying you forward with purpose, as if Natasha’s words had lit something inside you that you couldn’t resist. The soft padding of your feet on the hardwood floor was the only sound in the room now, the TV’s noise fading into the background. As you approached, Natasha’s eyes trailed over you, taking in the way your body moved, how your tits bounced slightly underneath that thin night dress you were wearing. Fuck.

You stopped just in front of Natasha, your fingers twitching slightly at your sides, eyes downcast for a moment before meeting her gaze, that blush still painting your cheeks. Natasha’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, her fingers gently reaching out to graze your wrist, pulling you just a little closer. Her smirk deepened, the corners of her lips curling into something soft yet undeniably confident. Her fingers, firm yet gentle, wrapped around your wrist, drawing you closer with a slow pull. Your breath hitched as you stood right before Natasha now, close enough to feel the warmth radiating between the two of you. Her other hand moved with easy grace, patting her lap with a quiet command.

“Sit,” she murmured, her voice low and smooth, eyes never leaving yours.

There was a flicker of hesitation in your gaze. You shifted slightly on your feet, your eyes darting down to Natasha’s lap before meeting her gaze again, wide-eyed and flushed. Her smirk softened, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin, coaxing you forward.

You hesitated, your breath catching in your throat as your fingers lightly grazed Natasha’s shoulders. Your cheeks were flushed, your eyes wide with nervousness and need as you slowly, shyly brought one leg over her lap. It was a tentative movement, careful and deliberate, as if you were testing the waters, her knee grazing against Natasha’s thigh before you fully straddled her. Once she settled onto her lap, your heart raced, your body warm and squirming. The way your bodies fit together, made your breath come quicker, your chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven movements. You glanced up, your eyes flickering with uncertainty, but before you could overthink it, Natasha’s arms were around your waist.

Her gaze locked onto yours, her smirk fading into something deeper, her green eyes dark and soft, before moving closer to you.

Your breath hitched as Natasha’s lips found the soft curve of your neck, brushing against your skin with the lightest, most teasing touch. The warmth of her breath sent a shiver coursing through your body, and you instinctively leaned into Natasha, your hands resting on Natasha’s shoulders, fingers trembling slightly as you tried to hold yourself steady.

“You’re so pretty, milaya,” Natasha whispered, her voice low and husky, the words spilling over your skin like honey.

The way she said it—so softly, so sincerely—made your cheeks flush even deeper, your heart stuttering in your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut, your pulse quickening as her lips lingered at your neck, the feeling of being so desired, so cherished, washing over you in waves. Natasha’s hands traced gentle patterns along your back, holding you close as if she couldn’t bear to let go, the words still hanging in the air. Her kisses were slow, wet and unhurried, savoring the warmth of your skin, the quiet little sounds you made in response. But then your voice, soft and teasing, broke through the haze of desire.

“Shouldn’t you be working, Nat?” You murmured, your breath hitching slightly as Natasha’s mouth lingered just below your ear.

She froze for a fraction of a second, her lips still pressed against your neck, her mind trying to process the words through the fog of distraction. The files—yes, the ones she’d tossed aside with no real intention of returning to.

She barely pulled her mouth from your skin, her hands still tracing soft, absentminded patterns along your back as she muttered, “Yeah,” in a voice that held none of the focus she needed for that answer.

But even as the word left her mouth, Natasha made no move to return to the work she’d been so intent on earlier. Her lips found yours, kissing you just a little deeper, her hold on your waist tightening as though there was no part of her that truly cared about the files scattered on the table anymore. Her tongue immediately entered your mouth, exploring every corner. Work could wait—right now, all she wanted was you.

You pulled back slightly, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps, and your chest rose and fell quickly as you tried to catch your breath.

“N-Natasha—” you managed, your voice shaky, eyes wide and dark with need, yet laced with a hint of restraint, as though you were trying to gather your thoughts, to form some semblance of control.

But Natasha wasn’t giving you any space for that.

Her arms still held you firmly in her lap, hands playing with the hem of that short, black night dress you had on, fingers dancing along the line of your lace underwear, and her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. Natasha’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, her voice low and husky as she leaned in just enough to close the distance again.

“I was watching you…” she began, her words soft, almost a purr against your lips. Her hands moved slowly, deliberately, under your dress, tracing the curve of your waist, drawing you back in as she stared at your lips. “I can tell, detka. I can tell when you want me.”

There was an edge of amusement that teased at the corners of her smile, but beneath it was an undeniable truth. Natasha’s gaze roamed over your flushed face, your dilated eyes, the way you shifted in her lap, restless and needy. She could feel your pulse racing under her fingertips, could hear the way you sighed against her.

“I always want you,” you whispered back, your voice barely above a breath, almost shy in its confession.

For a moment, her breath steadied against your neck. She let out another quiet, ragged breath, then shifted slightly, her lips brushing lightly against your shoulder. A slow smirk crept across Natasha’s face, one that you couldn’t see but could definitely feel.

“That’s my girl,” she murmured, her voice low and rough, almost a growl against your skin.

Natasha’s forehead dropped gently onto your shoulder, her body pressing closer, almost as if she needed to ground herself in the moment. Her hands tightened instinctively around your hips, fingers digging just a little deeper as she held you, squeezing as though she was trying to keep herself from completely losing control. For a moment, Natasha just breathed, her face buried in the curve of your neck, feeling the warmth of your skin, the pulse beating beneath it, and the way your body fit perfectly against her own.

She instinctively pressed closer, your hands slipping from Natasha’s shoulders to rest on her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath your fingertips. Natasha could feel the way your body responded to her, how much you wanted her, needed her.

Your girlfriend’s mind was already clouded, her focus narrowing down to the warmth of your body pressed against her, the way your hips fit perfectly in her hands, the quiet, desperate little breaths you let out. She wasn’t thinking about anything else, not the scattered files she had to look over, not the day’s work she had abandoned—just you.

Her voice dropped even lower, to a huskier murmur, the words slipping out before she could even stop them. “Wanna make you feel good…”

Her fingers moved on their own then, sliding slowly, deliberately beneath the hem of your short, black night dress. The fabric was soft, cool against her fingertips, but the heat radiating from your body drew her in like a magnet. Natasha’s smirk faded into something more focused, more intent, as her fingers grazed the edge of your laced panties. She paused there for just a moment, feeling the way your body tensed slightly, a soft, shaky exhale escaping your lips.

When Natasha’s fingers finally dipped lower, pressing against the delicate lace, she could feel just how wet you already were. She let a low, quiet groan slipping past her lips as she teased her fingers over the damp fabric. She didn’t rush—Natasha was never in a hurry when it came to you. Instead, she moved with agonizing slowness, her fingers tracing light patterns over the lace, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm in her lap.

Natasha’s eyes darkened with every little movement, every small, breathless sound you made. She could feel the tension coiling inside you. Her free hand slid up your back, pulling you in closer, grounding you as she continued to tease, the lace now soaked with the evidence of your need.

“Feel good, baby?”

“M-Mhm…” You hummed out.

Natasha pulled her head back just enough to look at you, watching as you nod your head, her fingers still teasing beneath the hem of your dress, but her attention had shifted entirely to the way you responded to her. She studied you for a moment, her green eyes dark and heavy-lidded, drinking in every little detail—the way your cheeks flushed deeply and irresistibly, the way your breath hitched, the slight tremble in your hands as they rested on Natasha’s chest. You always grew shy under her gaze, and Natasha knew exactly why.

She was naturally flirtatious, a little playful, and she loved watching you get flustered, even though you never seemed to know how to handle it. Right now, under Natasha’s intense stare, you shifted slightly, your eyes darting away for a second before you tried to meet Natasha’s again, your lips parting just a little.

“W-What?” You stammered, your voice soft, unsure.

Natasha’s smirk grew wider, more mischievous. She leaned in just a bit, her fingers never stopping their slow, torturous movements over past your soaked panties.

“I’m just thinking…” She said, her voice dropping to that low, almost teasing tone she always used when she had you exactly where she wanted you. “Thinking about what I want to do to you.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes widening just a bit. “What… do you wanna do?” You asked, barely above a whisper, already feeling your pulse quicken at the way she was looking at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I think…” Natasha paused for effect, her smirk deepening as she watched your growing nervousness. “I think I wanna overstimulate you.”

“O-Overstimulate me?” You repeated, your voice uncertain, as though you were trying to grasp what your girlfriend meant.

The innocence in your tone, the fact that you didn’t quite understand, only made Natasha’s desire grow stronger. She let out a soft, amused breath, her smile turning softer, more affectionate, as she realized just how innocent you still were sometimes in moments like this.

“Yeah,” she whispered, her voice gentling as she brushed her thumb over your hip. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes again, the smile still playing on her lips. “You don’t know what that means, do you?”

You shook your head lightly, your lips parting as if to say something but no words came out. Your girlfriend let out a quiet, indulgent chuckle, pulling you closer, her fingers teasing your folds so, so softly past the lacy fabric of your panties.

Before dating Natasha, you weren’t all that experienced when it came to sex. Sure, you had been in relationships before, but none of them had ever ventured into the kind of passion and intensity you found with Natasha. It wasn’t that you were naïve—you understood the mechanics of desire—but with Natasha, everything was different. She was confident, naturally sensual in a way that left you breathless, and she had a sex drive that matched her intensity in every other part of her life. From the beginning, she had taken her time with you, teaching you in ways that were equal parts gentle and overwhelming. The way Natasha touched you, the way she guided you, wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, intimate, like she was slowly unraveling all of your inhibitions and fears. With every kiss, every whispered word, every lingering touch, Natasha had shown you how to let go, how to trust your body, and how to embrace your own pleasure without hesitation.

“It means I’m going to make you feel so good,” Natasha murmured, her lips ghosting over your ear, voice low, almost a whisper, laced with the promise of everything she was about to do, “Over and over again, until you can’t take it anymore. And even then, I won’t stop…”

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widening just slightly as you stared at Natasha, speechless. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the heat between you making it hard to think, hard to breathe. But even as your mind raced, you couldn’t focus on anything but the way Natasha’s fingers felt, teasing lightly under your soaked panties, sending shivers through your entire body. The sensation was overwhelming, and you were completely lost in it, your lips parting as if to say something, but no words were coming out.

Natasha’s smirk grew wider, watching the way your gaze flickered with both uncertainty and desire. After a moment, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes darkening as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your skin. Her voice, already deep, dropped even lower, taking on a huskier tone that sent a pulse of need straight to your pussy.

“Would you let me do that to you, detka?” Natasha asked, her words slow, deliberate, and filled with intent.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening even more at the sound of Natasha’s voice. Your mind was spinning, but all you could feel was Natasha—her fingers, her gaze, the heat radiating from her body. You almost couldn’t form a coherent thought, couldn’t find the words to answer, but your body answered for you as you instinctively pressed closer to Natasha, your lips trembling as your eyes flicked up to meet hers again, completely and utterly captivated.

Natasha's eyes darkened as she felt you grind harder against her fingers, your body responding to every teasing touch. But she wasn’t satisfied with just the physical reaction; she needed more. Her free hand gently cupped your chin, tilting your head up so your eyes met.

“I need to hear you say it, baby,” Natasha urged, her voice low but insistent, a hint of a growl underneath the softness. Her thumb brushed against your trembling lips, waiting for the words.

Your mind was a blur, lost in the heat of Natasha’s touch, your body moving on instinct, your hips grinding harder against Natasha’s fingers. The pressure building between your legs made it nearly impossible to think. Absentmindedly, you leaned in, your tits pressing against Natasha’s chest, your body seeking more of that intoxicating closeness. Your voice was barely more than a breath as you nodded, your eyes heavy-lidded.

“Yes… yes, please…” The words spilled out, shaky and whiny.

You had given her exactly what she wanted, and now she had no intention of holding back.

Natasha’s smile twisted into something devious, a flicker of dark satisfaction passing through her eyes as she finally pushed two fingers inside you. The heat of your pussy wrapped around her digits instantly, tight and soaked with need.

Your reaction was immediate—a loud, breathless moan that escaped your lips, your body tensing and arching in response to the sudden intrusion. But Natasha was quick, her lips crashing against yours in the same instant, swallowing your moan. She devoured every sound, every shaky breath that you tried to release.

Your hands clung to Natasha’s shoulders, your body grinding instinctively against Natasha’s fingers, searching for more, needing more. Natasha missed you harder, her tongue fighting yours and winning with her fingers curling inside you with deliberate slowness, drawing out every gasp, every shiver of pleasure that ran through you. Each movement was calculated, each kiss more demanding than the last, as if Natasha couldn’t get enough of you, as if tasting your moans wasn’t enough—she needed to feel them, consume them entirely.

Your breath hitched, a desperate whine escaping your lips against your lover’s mouth. “N-Natasha…” you gasped, your voice barely holding together as her body squirmed in her lap.

Natasha pulled back slightly, just enough to take in the sight of you—flushed, trembling, your lips parted as you struggled to catch her breath. Without missing a beat, she fucked you harder, fingers plunging deeper, her pace quickening, pushing harder into your pussy. Her grip on your waist tightened, pulling you down harder onto her fingers. Natasha’s smirk returned, but this time it was darker, more possessive. God, you were driving her crazy.

“Let me hear you, detka,” Natasha growled lowly, her voice rough with desire, her fingers moving faster now, harder, as she watched your body react to every thrust. Each time you gasped or whimpered, Natasha’s lips hovered just above yours, teasing but not quite kissing, as if she wanted you to beg for it, to give yourself completely over to her.

Your head fell back, your hands gripping Natasha’s shoulders tightly as the pleasure kept building and building, your moans louder, more frantic, barely able to form words. Her eyes never left your face, smiling mischievously as she felt you fall apart in her lap.

As her thumb pressed against your clit, your body tensed all at once, at every curl of Natasha’s fingers. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your hands clutching at Natasha’s shoulders like a lifeline, and then, all at once, it snapped. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with such force that you nearly screamed, your body shaking uncontrollably.

It was overwhelming—your muscles tightening, your hips jerking against Natasha’s hand as you rode her fingers, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. Your vision blurred, your head spinning as the sensation ripped through you, leaving you breathless and completely undone. You felt yourself soaking Natasha’s lap, the wetness spreading between your thighs as your release came in a hot, overwhelming rush, slick and uncontrollable.

Natasha didn’t stop.

If anything, she pressed harder, her fingers curling deeper, dragging out every last bit of your pleasure as your body shuddered and jerked against her. You could barely think, could barely breathe through the intensity of it, your moans breaking apart into desperate, breathless gasps as the orgasm continued to pulse through you. Natasha’s eyes darkened with something primal, her fingers still working inside you as she watched you completely fall apart all over again.

And when you finally collapsed against her, trembling and soaked, Natasha exhaled a single word, her voice rough with surprise and raw desire, “Fuck.”

She hadn’t expected your first orgasm to hit this hard, hadn’t expected you to be this wet, this desperate. It stirred something deep inside Natasha, something that made her want to pull you even closer, to keep going, to claim you again and again until you were nothing but a trembling, soaked mess in her arms.

“Another one, baby,” Natasha murmured, her voice thick with desire as she pressed her fingers to your swollen, sensitive clit, rubbing in slow but rough, deliberate circles. At the same time, she started pumping her fingers inside you again, this time with a rhythm that was familiar and demanding, knowing exactly how to push you to the edge once more.

Your breath hitched, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but the new pressure on your clit sent another wave of pleasure rushing through you. You let out a broken whine, your body reacting instantly to Natasha’s touch, your hips moving on instinct as Natasha’s fingers slipped deeper inside you.

Your mind was blank except for the overwhelming heat and pressure building inside you again. You clutched at her, your nails digging into her shoulders as you struggled to catch your breath, every thrust of Natasha’s fingers sending her closer and closer to the edge.

“N-Natasha, I-I’m—“

It didn’t take long. Natasha’s fingers inside her and the teasing circles on her clit sent you crashing into another orgasm, harder and faster this time. Your whole body arched against Natasha, your moans desperate and broken as your pussy clenched tight around Natasha’s fingers. You came again with a soft cry, the wetness spilling over her hand, dripping down your thighs and soaking her lap all over again.

Natasha’s fingers were still moving, sending you directly into another orgasm as you whined and shuddered in her arms, your entire body trembling with the aftershocks. Your forehead fell against Natasha’s shoulder, your gasps of breath hot against her skin, your body still jerking with the overwhelming pleasure Natasha had coaxed out of you for the second time.

She made you come on her fingers a third time soon after, then a fourth… a fifth… seven? You lost count.

Your body was trembling uncontrollably as you reached another orgasm, your thighs quivering against Natasha's lap, your head spinning with the overwhelming intensity of it all. You gasped, your breathing ragged, your entire body shuddering as Natasha's fingers kept moving inside you, dragging out every last pulse of your release.

With her free hand, Natasha gently cupped your face, her thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek, wiping away your tears carefully.

“You’re doing so good for me, detka,” she whispered, her voice low and sweet. Her lips grazed the side of your face, barely a kiss, just enough to soothe. “You’re so beautiful when you come for me.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, your body aching with pleasure as her words washed over you. Your breath hitched, tears still slipping from your eyes as Natasha’s thumb continued to tenderly wipe them away, whispering soft nothings against your skin.

Natasha’s lips curled into a soft smile as she kissed your lips tenderly, her hands sliding around your waist, holding her close. Without breaking the kiss, she stood from the chair in front of the dining table, effortlessly lifting you in her arms as if you weighed nothing. You let out a quiet gasp, your hands clutching at Natasha’s shoulders, but you didn’t protest. She laid you down gently behind you, your body stretching across the table, legs naturally falling open to make room for Natasha between them.

Your head rested just beside the clutter of files and Natasha’s open laptop. She glanced at the papers for a brief second, her focus shifting from the work that had once consumed her to the woman now lying beneath her. Absentmindedly, she pushed the files and the laptop aside, not caring as they scattered across the floor. Natasha kissed you again, deeper this time, her hand brushing against your cheek, the other trailing down to your hip. Soon, she began trailing soft kisses along your jaw, down to the curve of your neck, down to your breasts.

When Natasha’s lips finally closed around your nipple, you let out a quiet gasp. She sucked gently, her tongue flicking over the sensitive skin, savoring the way your hands instinctively reached for her, fingers threading through the fiery strands of red hair. Her lips left no part of your skin untouched as she kissed lower, her mouth tracing a slow path down her stomach.

Your body trembled beneath her, the dining table cold against your back. But as Natasha’s mouth ventured lower, brushing just above the waistband of your lace panties, her fingers tugging them down your legs slowly. Your grip tightened in Natasha’s hair, and a soft flush crept over your cheeks. Natasha paused for just a moment, her lips ghosting over your lower stomach, her hands caressing the sides of your thighs. She glanced up, her green eyes filled with tenderness, as if silently asking for permission to continue. Your breath caught in your throat, and you bit your lip, nodding your head softly and hesitantly.

Without warning, Natasha shifted, her hands gripping your thighs with a firm, possessive hold. She dove between your legs, her mouth immediately finding the soft, wet heat of your pussy. Natasha’s tongue worked fast, flicking and slurping with a skill and hunger that took you by complete surprise. Your jaw dropped, a loud moan escaping your lips as your body reacted instantly, back arching off the table. Natasha’s mouth was relentless. Your legs trembled as they instinctively tried to close, only for her to hold them wide open, refusing to let you pull away.

Your hands flew to her hair, fingers gripping tightly, tugging on her hair as your moans grew louder. More desperate. You were helpless against Natasha’s tongue, her hips jerking involuntarily as she devoured you, the wet sounds of her slurping filling the room. Her lips sealed over your clit, sucking hard before sliding her tongue deeper, tasting you fully.

“W-Wait, I—“ You whined. 

Natasha hummed softly, the vibrations sending you spiraling, your legs trembling even harder as you writhed on the table, completely at your girlfriend’s mercy.

Another orgasm tore through you, wave after wave of intense pleasure crashing over you as you came hard against Natasha’s mouth. Your back arched off the table, your moans loud and desperate, your fingers still tangled in her hair, pulling almost too hard. But Natasha didn’t slow down. In fact, she only pressed closer, her tongue continuing to work, relentless and determined.

The overstimulation hit hard, your body jerking uncontrollably beneath Natasha’s hold, your thighs trembling against her head. Your hands shook, the pleasure bordering on too much, too intense. But Natasha wasn’t stopping—she was taking you deeper into it, making you feel every ounce of pleasure coursing through your body. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

Your body convulsed as you came all over again, your hips bucking uncontrollably against Natasha’s face. You moaned helplessly, your voice cracking, but the pleasure quickly turned to something almost unbearable as Natasha kept going, her tongue still flicking and licking your folds.

“I can’t… I can’t…” You whimpered, your voice a fragile plea, breathless and broken. Your hands weakly reached down, fingers trembling as you tried to push Natasha’s head away, your body too sensitive, too overwhelmed.

But Natasha wasn’t ready to let go just yet. With a gentle but firm grip, she caught your wrists, pinning them softly to the table by your hips, simultaneously keeping your legs open for her.

“Shh, baby,” Natasha whispered against your soaked skin, her voice low and thick with hunger. Her breath brushed over your sensitive folds, making your body jolt with the slightest movement. Natasha’s lips pressed tender, teasing kisses along your pussy, and she began whispering softly, her voice laced with praise and adoration.

“Just one more,” Natasha murmured, her lips grazing your clit, sending a shiver through your overstimulated body. “You’ve been so good for me… I just need one more, baby. Can you do that for me? Please, detka... I know you can.”

Tears ran down your face, the pleasure too much for you to bear. The overwhelming sensitivity made you feel like you were teetering on the edge of something too intense, but Natasha’s soft, pleading words kept pulling you back in.

“One more,” she whispered, her tongue flicking softly again, barely grazing your clit as she held you open. “My beautiful girl… You’re so perfect, you’re doing so well...”

Your body trembled uncontrollably, your head lolling back against the table as Natasha’s mouth worked you over once more. Your breath was ragged as you whimpered beneath her touch. You could barely form words, your voice a soft, broken murmur.

“T-too much…” you muttered, your eyes half-lidded, on the brink of passing out from the sheer overload of pleasure. But despite the exhaustion weighing on you, you didn’t stop Natasha—didn’t pull away. There was a part of you that wanted to push through, that believed you could handle just one last wave, just one more time.

And Natasha sensed it—the surrender, the way your body gave in completely to her. Natasha’s lips curved into a hungry smirk as she kissed you deeper, her tongue flicking and swirling in ways that made your entire body quake. She was relentless now, moaning against you, her fingers digging into your trembling thighs, holding you firmly in place as her mouth continued its unyielding work.

Your moans grew louder, turning into a series of broken gasps, your hips jerking wildly as her tongue moved faster, slurping with that same insatiable hunger. Your breaths were shallow, your body arching off the table as you teetered dangerously close to your breaking point.

And then, it hit again—harder than anything you’d felt before.

Your body convulsed violently as she came, and this time, it wasn’t just a release—it was a flood. Your hips bucked uncontrollably as you squirted, a gush of warmth spilling from you, soaking Natasha’s face and the table beneath them. Her mouth stilled for just a second as she pulled back, staring at your pussy in awe, her eyes wide with disbelief, and her chin glistening in your release.

“Oh, fuck…” Natasha whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

Her voice was thick with amazement, her fingers still gripping your thighs as she watched the way your body responded, the way you gushed uncontrollably, your orgasm hitting her like a tidal wave. She reached up with one hand, fingers gently stroking the inside of your thigh as if in reverence, her gaze never leaving your pussy.

“God, look at you,” she whispered, her voice almost worshipful.

But then Natasha’s eyes flicked up, and she saw your face—your head tilted to the side, lips parted, eyes closed. The flush in her cheeks was deep, her body completely limp. For a second, Natasha panicked, her hand gently patting your thigh as she leaned closer.

“(Y/n)?” she whispered, her voice soft with concern.

It took a moment for Natasha to realize—you passed out. Your body still twitched faintly, small aftershocks running through you as the intensity of your final orgasm slowly faded.

For a moment, she just stared, watching your chest rise and fall, your body limp and flushed from the overwhelming pleasure. Her eyes traced every inch of you, from the faint sheen of sweat on your skin to the way your thighs trembled softly. There was something so innocent about the way you looked when you were like this—vulnerable, completely undone, as if you’d given everything to Natasha and trusted her completely.

Natasha felt a small pang of guilt, realizing just how far she had pushed you, how close to your limit she had brought you. But as she took in the sight before her, a slow smile spread across her lips, warm and a little smug. She didn’t regret it, not for a second. The memory of your moans, the way your body had responded so perfectly, how you had given herself over so completely—it was intoxicating.

With a soft smile, Natasha leaned down and pressed one last kiss to your temple before gently pulling away from you to grab a soft towel for your legs, careful not to disturb your rest. She cleaned you up tenderly, wiping between your legs with the utmost care, her touch soft and careful.

As she held you in her arms, carrying you toward the bedroom, Natasha’s mind drifted to tomorrow, already making plans to spoil you. You deserved everything—her love, her care, her gentleness—and she promised herself she’d make up for pushing you so far tonight. She laid you down on your shared bed, tucking you in gently, and made a mental note to shower you with affection, pamper you, and make you feel cherished in every way possible. Because if there was one thing Natasha Romanoff was certain of, it was that she had never been so in love with anyone as she was with you.

And for that, she’d make sure you knew it every single day.

— navigation

[fairene]

passenger princess / ln4

established relationship lando norris x fem!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

in which the weekend takes a twist, and all you want is a baby.

prompt⋯ hi! first of all, i absolutely ADORE your writing. i’ve been reading all of your stuff for the past few days!! second, i was scrolling on pinterest and i rediscovered the lando daddy bracelet pic. that combined with THE dutch gp pic made me be down even worse for him. with that i request a fic with an established reader x lando relationship. that’s set during the weekend of the 2024 dutch gp. where he wears the bracelet over the course of the weekend and it gets you(? or me? idk how to phrase that) really worked up, and after he wins they fuck while he’s still wearing it. and it’s like the most rough feral sex known to mankind. but at the end you want him to come in you and he’s like “oh you wanna make me a daddy”. like yes it is a slight breeding kink but it’s more of the idea of the bracelet and how he definitely knew what he was doing when he wore it (in the fic and irl too tbh). that’s the general idea but feel free to put your own spin on it!! i am incredibly down bad for him and that photo did something to me. ty 🤗🧡

a/n ⋯ yeah tbh i got no excuse for this one chat...like...how could i not resist a breeding kink...i know y'all want it too. but for real--- thank you anon for being patient. i had a lot of fun writing this in between doing work. writing is an escape for me. thank you to all for the continued support, and i'll be continuing to get through asks as time moves along. comment below to be added to my taglist, or comment in general! i love replying to all of them as much as i can.

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, breeding kink, impregnation, teasing, possessiveness, jealousy, creampie, begging, mating press-- allat shit tbh. if i miss a warning, let me know.

wc ⋯ 8.5k (unedited.)

things had begun to be different between you and lando. you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the gears shifted, the stars aligned, though you only cared how good it made you feel with him. 

but he knew. he knew exactly when.

you’d been dating lando for two years now. it was two years of pure bliss— the exciting lifestyle that you’ve craved, the love and care, the passion that you shared with him was exquisitely yours. he is yours. and you are his.

that morning in the paddock he was speaking to max, chattering about the post collision from hungaroring. they seemed to make up in due time, finding it easier to call one another “brother’s” again, despite the damages done to their cars and the media in an uproar about their impish, punitive behaviors. you didn’t spare any glance towards the comments made about it, knowing that lando had been in a rough shape that weekend. 

you played with penelope, p, as they were talking, squatted on the ground with colored pens in your hand. kelly loomed behind, on her phone, thankful enough that you could occupy her for the time being. you had no issue entertaining her. you loved being around children…most of the time. 

“this one?” you held out the red pen for p, as she was pointing to with a bashful look. she was shy– especially around you, given your ethereal, wanderlust nature. you carried yourself in such an elegant way that could facilitate a ray of sunlight through the most tepid storms. 

she nodded and you handed it to her. she latched her smaller hand around it, coloring in the rb20 from her sketchbook. your hand fell beneath your chin as you watched her carefully color inside the lines, dreading falling out of it. you smiled as she did, the dress you wore crinkling fashionably around your thighs. 

p flashed the page at you nervously, awaiting her input. your eyes glowed, sparkles falling onto the page as you scanned it. she really did do a good job.

“beautiful, p!” you commented, your palm splaying over her upper back. “you’re really good at this, you know?”

a shade of red filled her cheeks, warming her skin. you hadn’t meant to embarrass her, nor make her nervous. 

“do you want to color one with me?” you asked her, pointing to the pages in the book. she hesitated for a moment, as if she didn’t hear you properly, but ended up nodding with the same excitement that she did when she’d see max on the podium. “you pick. something…pretty.”

the gears were turning in her head as she flipped through the pages, trying to find the perfect one for you and her to work on. you, on the other hand, were focused on how her brows scrunched together as she furiously searched through her booklet. it was cute the way she perceived things. she was a cutie. it made you think about your own future, what you wanted. 

what you wanted,

your eyes drifted from the carpeted floors inside the hospitality room, to the shoes that he wore, and up his black jeans to the papaya livery he sported for the day. you lingered on the expanse of his chest, the tan skin peaking through the v-neck of his unbuttoned collar. your mouth watered instinctively, thinking about how lucky you were to have a man like lando love you so deeply.

as you glanced further up towards his chin, the unshaved rigid surface that sparked electricity over your body, you found him already looking down at you. he wasn’t even paying attention to max at this point, already giving you all of his attention and you didn’t even need to ask. 

you gave him a smile, covering your lips afterward to stifle your giggle, and turned back to p once she tapped you that she’d found a picture for the two of you to color.

“mate?”

lando was lost in a daze staring at you. gawking at your figure, the dress you decided to wear. it was a denim colored sheath that you’d twin with alexandra with. she’d wear the gia dress in a pomegranate hue, whereas you took the navy. 

lando’s hand was cupped against his chin, rubbing over his stubble, keen on watching how you interacted with p. 

your relationship had progressed further than he’s ever gotten to before in his life. he was at a point where he knew he didn’t want anyone else, to explore someone else’s body the way he did yours. he knew you, inside and out, and he didn’t think another connection was even fathomable. 

you appeared to be so gentle with her, taking the time to listen to what she wanted you to do, how to color, maneuver the pens. there would be no outside the line coloring on her watch, that was for sure. 

he found himself smiling bright. 

do you want kids? 

he knew that he did. he always knew that. but he’d never broach the subject to you directly. your relationship with him was secure, but was it eligible to be taken to the next level? would you be frightened by his sudden urge to create a life with you? a product of him, and the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“yeah? sorry.” lando looked back towards max. but it was too late, and max was looking over his shoulder towards you and p.

when he looked back towards lando, he threw his hands up in defense. max rolled his eyes. “don’t know why you haven’t proposed to her yet. what’re you waiting for?” 

lando bristled. he waited a moment to answer, wondering the same fucking thing. what was he waiting on? the perfect time, perhaps. summer break was rapidly approaching, and he certainly had a ring picked out. 

the papaya clad driver pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos, settled on the right one, and handed it to max. the other driver took it, zooming in, not that he needed to. 

“when?”

lando shrugged. “summer break. greece, maybe.” 

max cheered, slapping his hand over his mouth in shock. “you’re serious, mate?” lando nodded. max pulled him in for a hug, slapping him over the back. he couldn’t be happier for his best friend in this moment, starting to jump up and down. lando settled him down and slid his phone back into his pocket. 

“keep it quiet. i want her to be surprised.” 

max made a motion of a lock and key. “surprised about what?” 

lando felt giddy.

you hadn’t been paying much attention to what lando nor max were chittering about. you’d been so hyper focused on coloring with p, that you were absent minded of the conversation behind you. 

p had picked out a cartoon illustration of max and lando smiling towards the viewer. you’d thought it was an adorable choice, and it showed that p was more aware than what she led on to be. she, of course, started coloring in max. with his neutrally blonde hair, redbull cap, she was fast working. 

but then she shoved the book towards you, politely anyways, and pointed at lando, who was yet to be colored in. 

“my turn?” she nodded her head, handing you the orange marker. 

you grinned, carefully coloring in the lines of the drawing before p took a deep breath. “are you and lando married?” 

the question had you freeze momentarily, taken back by her question. “no, p, we’re not.” 

you continued to color, whilst she continued to question. “why not?”

“because he hasn’t asked me.”

“why don’t you ask him?” 

“i’m not sure that’s what he wants.”

p raised a brow. she looked towards lando and max, giggling together like school girls, then back to you and your focused coloring.

she handed you a brown marker for lando’s curls. “i think you should.”

now it was your turn to be inquisitive, “really, now?”

she nodded her head without hesitating. “then you’d be my aunt!” she giggled. 

you colored in lando’s curls, carefully, diligently, thinking of how they felt beneath your fingertips. your breath hitched thinking about the thought of him proposing, wondering if he had ever even thought about it. you knew what your answer would be. it wouldn’t even take a beat of your heart to give him in answer, if he chose to ask. if he chose you. 

with one final stripe of a black marker, your drawing of lando had been finished. you stood up, and so did p. 

“are you going to have babies?”

“p!” you gasped, mouth dropping. “that’s none of your business, young lady.” 

she laughed, twirling around. “what? that’s what mama says happens when you love someone.” confident, wasn’t she? “do you love lando?”

“of course i do, p.”

she gasped.

“is there a baby in there right now?!” she seemed concerned, becoming so bold as to touch your stomach. it was a little higher than where your womb sat beneath your skin, but close enough. 

you shook your head. “no, honey. i am not having a baby right now.” 

she looked disappointed. taking her hand back, she crossed them over her chest. 

“penelope, what are you going on about?” kelly finally chimed in, rubbing p’s back with her hand. 

“nothing.” 

but it wasn’t nothing.

lando appeared behind you, a hand on your lower back. you leaned into him, recognizing his touch, and you got a brief wave of panic wondering if he heard your conversation with p. 

“p,” lando said over your shoulder. she looked up. “do you still have your bracelet making kit?” 

she nodded again, though you weren’t quite sure what he’d need it for. you guessed you’d find out eventually, because lando uttered, “it’s a secret, sorry baby.”

and he followed p to her small table, pulling out the kit from her backpack. she had taken lando’s hand to guide him, and you watched fondly. 

too fondly, you thought, and knew you were in deep shit.

the morning of the dutch grand prix had you biting at the corners of your fingernails with anticipation. the summer break you had spent with lando was more than you could imagine— filled with delicious foods, sunny weather, morning swims, and of course, the sex. with more free time that lando had, he was utterly obsessed with you. he worshiped the ground you walked on, and it made you feel like more than the queen you deserved to be. 

in the paddock you stood, shifting on your feet, anxiously fiddling with your purse once your fingernails sufficed. lily joined at your side, ethereal with her effortless beauty, and she nudged you with her elbow. “you look nervous,” she gave a short laugh.

you scoffed but joined in on her antics. “do i?” you certainly did. lily raised her brows to inquire further of your apparent distress. 

relenting, you couldn’t resist her. there was no reason to— you were both practically attached at the hip. ever since oscar had been signed to mclaren, the two of you were inseparable. the famous mclaren WAGs. 

your relationship with lando had been going on for two years now. sure, you’d had some rocky slopes to climb with the schedule of his career and the development of your own; that’s the thing about relationships though, isn’t it? that no matter what hill you’d have to climb, you’d find one another on the other side. the two of you wanted to make it work, so there was no obsolete universe in which you’d never find each other. 

“he needs this, lils.” you practically sighed, finally gaining the courage to look her in the eye. she looked at you with the same softness that a mother would, or a best friend that you could count on. 

“you know he’ll do well.” oh, don’t you know it. lando, whilst on vacation, never took a moment’s worth of rest. he wanted this just as much as you did for him, a second career win. it was all that you could think about the moment you stepped off the plane before him in zandvoort. it was going to happen. you had a feeling. 

and a good one at that. 

qualifying swept by in a flash. the saturday afternoon was a clean sweep for your boyfriend in the front row. you couldn’t be more proud of him. when he was finished with his interviews and taking his leave with his half removed fireguard, you launched at him.

flinging your arms around his neck, he gripped onto your waist and thighs like his life depended on it. it did. your nose found the sweat against the column of his neck, inhaling deeply. you melted into him.

lando felt the same. with his forehead burrowing into the hair on your scalp, he let out a deep breath that he’d been holding since he got out of the car. 

“missed my sweet girl,” he breathed, the sweat and perspiration heating the hairs on your head. you sighed softly, relaxing into him as he held you tighter. 

you broke away from him, setting yourself on the ground. you stood happily in front of him, rocking on your heels and playing with the hem of the black, sponser-ridden firesuit. 

“‘m so fucking proud, lan. pole? pole on the first race back?” you were in shellshock, overjoyed disbelief. 

he raised a hand to cup your face before he’d be whisked away. the bracelet on his wrist caught your eye, one that he must’ve put on once he stepped out of the car. the friendship letter bracelet read loudly to you, it letters all capitalized. 

‘daddy’

you gripped his hand, observing the ornament. you raised a brow. is this the bracelet he had made with p? 

lando let out a short laugh. “like it?” 

you flushed, staring down at the small, dainty thing. it had you shifting on your feet, ideas and fantasies running wild through your pillage of a mind. “maybe.” you hummed, stroking the beads with your index finger. 

“wore it for you.” 

the statement had you standing up straight. “really now?” lando nodded. 

and before he was whisked away, he whispered into your ear, “don’t get any ideas, baby. i know that look.” 

you were rendered speechless, and by the time you managed to open your mouth, he had already left through the door. 

the following day was race day. you were dressed flawlessly, curating perfection with your outfits to match the same prestige that lando had with his fans. also, you enjoyed feeling pretty. looking pretty, as lando would often say to you. he didn’t forget this morning either, arriving to the paddock with you in tow, hand wrapped tightly with yours.

as he took selfie after selfie, signed hat after hat, he didn’t forget to remind you, “you look beautiful,” that always brought a smile to your face, a blush fanning your cheeks. 

when the two of you made it inside of mclaren’s hospitality, you were greeted by both lily and oscar. you gave her a warming hug, and she returned it with the same affirmation. when you separated, she danced on her tip-toes. lando and oscar side stepped toward the tea and coffee station, chatting amongst themselves. 

“wow!” you were confused, raising a brow. “front row for him, hmm? told you, had nothing to worry about.” 

you rolled your eyes, still holding anxieties for the race. you were always concerned going into a weekend. no matter how many grand prix’s you’ve attended, seen lando come out safe and sound, you still picked at the skin of your fingertips. anxious habits die hard. 

lando’s managers came in alongside oscar’s beckoning both mclaren drivers to follow them to get ready for the race. lando found you instantly, his hands finding the handles on your hips, squeezing inward. you tensed at the action, wondering what had him on such edge. 

you spun, hands running from his chest up to his neck, his cheeks. you cupped his face in your hands, sheepishly smiling. 

“you’ll win this for me?”

he scoffed, “always.” 

you smiled harder—if that was possible— and connected your lips with his. he returned your kiss, diving deep into your mouth. he held you close by your lower back, as if this was the last time that he’d ever kiss you. he sought to deepen your kiss by the clacking of your teeth, his tongue incessantly searching the inside of your mouth. 

you separated yourself, still holding onto his cheeks. lando dipped his forehead against yours, seeking another kiss, but you pulled away. “go. they’re waiting for you.” 

“don’t care.” 

you flushed, allowing him one last peck before you patted his cheek. “seriously. go.” 

he chuckled to himself, kissing the top of your head, uttering a soft “i love you,” before being swept away. 

“i love you too.” you mouthed, returning your attention back to lily. she was in awe of how you and lando behaved, carving such a rugged, playful boy into a man of posture and mannerisms that were only reflected by your good nature. 

“what?”

“nothing…” she looked away.

“lily.” 

“you’ve got that man on a leash,” she broke into a fit of giggles. you looked back to where they were walking out. lando had been looking for you, then at you. he gave a wave, you returned it, then looked back at lily. 

“i prefer the term ‘free-roaming.’” 

the race was coming to an end with a single lap left. lando led the race with a twenty-two second lead, and your hands were clasped tightly together with your headset on. you listened carefully to his radio messages, sassy and revving, and had your eyes locked onto the screen in front of you. with lily by your side, the two of you were anxiously awaiting the end.

your face suddenly appeared on screen, displaying your glistening eyes, perfectly done makeup and hair. a chic smile grew on your cheeks. you turned towards the camera man and allotted a small wave. your name appeared under the screen, lando norris’ partner. 

god…

was there anything more prideful than that?

surely there was, but it didn’t matter to you. you were there to support your boyfriend, lando, your lando, and it was more than enough to see that you were recognized as that. 

the checkered flag appeared and lando was on the headline for crossing. you had to clutch your heart, hoping to grip it from the inside out to slow its beating, and it didn’t cease when his mcl38 zipped past the flag. 

there was an eruption of cheers throughout the garage and you were swarmed with love by the fellow mechanics and lily, too, who was happy for you to witness such a grand victory. a more than well earned victory. 

a second one in the books for him. you couldn’t have been happier. 

the podium gathering didn’t take long, and you managed to be at the front of the barricade, shoved forward by the team. you stood there, graceful and beautiful as he always saw you, and you were the loudest to clap and cheer as he walked out from the cool down room. 

“your winner, lando norris…!” and you couldn’t help the tears that fell down your cheeks, the camera picking up your emotional feedback on the big screen. his eyes caught to it from the bannister, stepping up onto the tallest podium, and found you right at the front. his heart melted, dripped a red hot flame that burned for you. to see you there for him, emotional above all, solidified his feelings. what he wanted in his future. 

you. you above anything else. you above racing, his career, his everything. he had nothing if you weren’t by his side. 

he took off his pirelli hat and let the national anthem play. the camera panned away from you then to zak brown. you swayed gently to the anthem, lost in your own world of loving him. you saw him through clear glasses, though he was always your rose. there was nothing more that you wanted in the future than to be with him. you and lando. 

after his attributed champagne pop, the crowd dissipated from the pit lane and you engaged in conversations with different women, friends, and coworkers of mclaren. you were jovial with your presence, engaged as much as you could be, though your thoughts kept tracing back to him. lando, lando, lando. 

you ended your evening in conversations with the ferrari women— alexandra, rebecca, and one of charles’ friends, marta. you’re a recent acquaintance, meeting her only just a few moments ago. she was noticeably pregnant, and you wondered if that was just the recurring theme of the day. 

“how far along are you?” rebecca chimed in. 

“about twenty weeks, i think.” she smiled, holding her bump and leaning back into one of her heels to get a more comfortable angle. 

“half way there! are you excited?” you asked her, sipping your sparkling water. 

“of course,” she grimaced, though there was joy behind her eyes. “it can be hard, but it’s worth it. always worth it to see my husband with my daughter, and now it’ll be brand new with this babe.” 

you gave her a heart-warming smile. 

“they kick every so often—” she grimaced again, reeling her face into a tight knot. “like right now. do you want to feel?” she was looking at you. it took you a second to understand that she was referring to you, but you jumped at the opportunity.

“are you sure…?” 

marta nodded. “put your hand here,” she placed your hand on her right side. you waited a moment before there was a small lurch beneath your palm. you looked up at her in pure disbelief, marveled by such a feeling. you wondered what it’d feel like to feel your own baby kick. 

“so…” alexandra leered mischievously, “do you plan on having children? with lando?” 

is everyone asking that today?

you stood up straight, embarrassed by the question, and brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. “for sure. there’s no one else i want. whenever the time is right.” 

“he’d be such a good dad.” alexandra added, and you couldn’t agree more.

“you should’ve seen him earlier with penelope—” the girls were reeling at your story. “making bracelets with her. almost tripped over my own dress,” you covered your mouth to laugh, attempting to keep your voice down.

“someone has baby fever.” marta commented. 

“ugh,” rebecca groaned. “you two are picturesque. alex and i were just talking about it.” 

“oh?” you wished to know more by their insinuation. it wasn’t often that you listened to anything about you or lando’s relationship. half of the time it was negative comments from fans across social media, and you didn’t want the other half to get to your head. you knew you were lucky as is, the least you could do was stay humble. 

“ohhhh most definitely.” alexandra nodded. “you’ve been together for what— ever? we’re waiting for an engagement post.” 

you were floored. it has been a good amount of time. “so am i,” it came as a laugh. you wondered if lando thought about it. if the thought ever crossed his mind— the possibility of you becoming his wife. 

it did. 

he was watching you. he’d been done with his interviews for a good ten minutes now, but he was gripped by the scene unfolding before him. he had distracted himself by glancing at his phone, pretending to be scrolling through notifications. but he was staring. hard. 

your hand was so tender-loving as it grazed marta’s baby bump. you looked up at her with a graceful smile, asking her important questions about her pregnancy. why were you so interested? 

fuck, he hoped the answer he wanted was what you were thinking. 

you, pregnant in your floral dresses, pleated gowns, traipsing around the halls of your joint home. barefoot, glowing, effervescent. he could see it now. the vision coming to life, coming to fruition from just a mere fantasy. he felt his dick twitch in his pants, his groin running hot.

he overheard the conversation, too. 

“do you plan on having children? with lando?” 

for sure. there’s no one else i’d want. 

fuuuuck. lando had to turn around, attempting to calm himself down. his entire body was aflame, an eternal gloss of bliss for wanting you. needing you. he needed to feel you. your touch. your skin beneath him, the way you curl effortlessly against the shape of his body.

yeah, he’s fucked. 

after a few calming deep breaths, he was at least presentable. with his calmed down cock, he immediately made a beeline in your direction. he wanted—no, needed to get his hands around you as soon as possible. it was a world-ending feeling that suffocated him, gripped him by the throat. 

you heard him approach before you saw him. lando’s hands were warm around your hips as he pulled you close. you felt the outline of his cock in his pants as he jut his hips forward. you turned your head over your shoulder, glancing up at him. 

his nose found a home in the curve of your neck. you giggled when you felt his stubble tickle your skin, a hand coming instinctively to hold the side of his face tight against your skin. he breathed soundly against you, finding eternal peace of mind plastered against your body.

“it was nice seeing you alex, rebecca.” you began to bid your farewells. “marta, it was a pleasure to meet you.” marta leaned in for a hug, which pulled you away from the warmth of lando’s body. you felt like a snail ripped from its shell— hollow, cold. 

“the same for you,” pregnancy looked good on her. though, you can’t recall the last time you’ve seen her without a baby blooming inside her. “if you ever need advice…alex has my number.” 

you blushed, feeling lando’s hand around your lower belly tense. “thank you. i’ll be in touch.” you glance towards rebecca and alexandra, following lando’s pace back to the car.

lando’s eyes were hot as they drilled holes into the side of your head. you could feel it, though you weren’t even looking at him. “i can feel your urge to talk, lan.” 

he laughed, holding your hand tight in his. “no. no, it’s nothing.” 

you stopped dead in your tracks, pulling your hand from his, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“okay, okay,” he apologized, taking your hand back into his own, bringing it to his lips to kiss. his lips were warm and wet against your skin. your breath hitched.

“well, go on, then.” 

“this is the congratulations i get? damn, baby, you’re rugged.” 

you shoved his face away, beginning to walk back to the car once more. “you know i’m proud. don’t be silly, now.” 

“i know, i know,” there was a brief silence. “you can show me in other ways.” 

“lando!” you gasped, and he broke into a fit of laughter. “dirty bastard.” you mumbled. 

“what was that, baby?” 

“nothing. nothing. just like what you wanted to tell me, i guess.” two can play at this game. you heard him scoff, but ultimately relent. 

“alright, alright. i just…” he became shy with the tone of his voice. you could recognize it instantly. “heard your conversation with the girls, is all.” 

you attempted your best effort to still your facial expressions from annoyance, shock, embarrassment, and all of the fucking above. 

 “you heard…all of it?” 

“the gist.” 

you tried to cover your face to shield yourself from the world. god, that was your fucking nightmare. you hadn’t ever even touched upon a subject like that with him before. and now he had heard it from you talking to your girlfriends? oh, you just felt like the worst girlfriend in the world right now. 

“fuck. i didn’t mean to—” 

“no, baby,” he opened the car door for you to slip into the passenger seat. you stepped in, gripping his forearm to sit down. 

when he climbed in himself and turned over the engine, you shifted to face him. before you could even open your mouth to speak, he cut you off. 

“i want kids, too, you know. with you.” 

“oh.” a weight lifted from your shoulders in that moment, and then you felt utterly stupid for thinking that he would’ve reacted badly. this is your lando you’re talking to. a man you can share anything with. “you do?” 

he looked flabbergasted. “you’re joking, right?”

you shot your hands up in defense. “i don’t know! children aren’t exactly…temporary. i just�� i didn’t know if you thought of me—”

“you’re permanent, love.” his hand wrapped around your thigh as he pulled out of the driver’s lot, whipping past the fans that were keen on snapping a picture of him. 

though you’ve known that, deep down, it still hit you like the first time he told you that he loved you. a jaw-dropping epiphany that had been right in front of you the whole time. you’d been short-sighted, enjoying every moment that you had with him, and had become unknowing about the future you’ve been perpetuating with him.

you covered his hand with your own, playing with the bracelets around his wrist. the charm bracelet ‘daddy’ dangled between your fingers, rolling the beads over and over again. 

“you’d make a good daddy, wouldn’t you?” you said the words under your breath, but even he could hear them like you’d shouted them in his face. he tightened his grip around your thigh.

“don’t say things like that,” he shook his head, eyes locked on the road ahead. 

the air became heavy between you two. when wasn’t it? not only did passion run through your veins, but heinous desire breathed life to your souls. 

“why?” you stroked the top of his hand with your nails. “you heard what i said to the girls.” his head lolled against the back rest. “what’s different now?” 

you felt the car accelerate. it vibrated the cushion you were nestled atop of, sending shockwaves through your cunt.

“driving me fucking nuts, darling.” 

you knew you were. it was the secret to your relationship— the two of you understanding what made you tick. seethe with lust until there was no other option for you to climb him like a tree.

it didn’t take long before he reached the hotel, pulling up to the front. you were getting your things to get up, but he was lost on his phone, pretending to be busy. “coming?” you asked.

“pfft—” you could see him roll his eyes through the rearview mirror. “i wish. give me a second.” you couldn’t help but huff to yourself under your breath, stepping out of the car with your heels clinking to the ground.

 with your purse over your shoulder you stepped up onto the curb, but was distracted by a small voice echoing over your shoulder. 

down the sidewalk was a mother and a stroller. you smirked lowly, taking only the few steps it’d take to reach the mother and child. 

“oh my gosh,” you squealed. the mother was taken back, but by your demeanor and eyes on her baby, she returned a smile. by her pink bonnet and bunny swath, you knew she was the cutest thing you’d ever laid eyes on. “she is just the cutest thing!” 

“thank you,” the woman said.

“she looks just like her mama,” you heard lando’s car door open, most definitely within earshot. “don’t you, sweet thing? yes you do!” you cooed at the baby, who erupted in a fit of louder giggles and mumbles. 

the mother was flushed, but happy. “you’re too kind. you’re good with children? do you have any of your own?” 

jackpot..!!

you clutched your purse as you stood up straight. you played into your theatrics, “oh gosh, i wish! my husband and i have been trying for ages, but he’s just so busy with work…” 

the woman tsked with disappointment for you. “you’d make a beautiful mother,” 

“you think so?” 

she nodded her affirmation. 

“that’s so sweet of you.” you were really milking this scene, especially that you knew lando was listening. 

“is that your husband there?” she pointed to over your shoulder. and there he was, your husband, watching the two of you from behind the ajar car door. 

“mmm, yes, it is.” you offered a cordial wave to him. he stuck two fingers up for a lazy wave, waiting for you to return to him. “i should go. it was a pleasure, ma’am. your baby is adorable.”

she nodded a thanks, and you took your sweet time walking back to the car. you could hear lando tapping the windshield incessantly. before his head dipped down back into the car he called, “get back in.” 

you…admit, you were confused. brows furrowed, you opened the passenger side door and bent down, “why—?”

“get in the car,” your name was a rumble in his chest. you still didn’t know what he was doing nor going, and your stubborn self wouldn’t settle for a verbal answer.

you took too long for him. gripping your arm, he pulled you into the passenger seat, and you landed on your ass with a ‘thump’. 

he fired up the engine again and pulled out of the traffic circle of the hotel. he radiated with heat— you could feel it from where you sat. “where are we going?” 

he didn’t answer you. 

you crossed your arms and legs, looking out the window. the area was unknown to you, but lando always seemed like he knew where he was going. 

it took only a minute for him to pull into an empty level of a parking garage, dimly lit with only one overhead light at the entrance of the ramp. he put the car in park. 

“what are we—”

you couldn’t finish your sentence until you were on his lap, hands gripping your waist so tightly that you had to gasp for air. 

“husband?” 

oh

oh…!

well, this was a change you welcomed with open arms. 

he lowered the seat back until you were straddled atop of him, fingers aimlessly toiling with the zipper of his jeans. 

“don’t know what you’re—”

he snapped upward, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “baby,” he breathed, and you shivered. “what do you want?”

your hips naturally moved back and forth against his own, dress hiked well above your stomach. his hand snaked between your legs, feeling the wet patch in your underwear. he hummed when you didn’t reply, flicking his finger upward to graze your clit. 

you mewled. 

“what was that?”

your hand twisted around the hem of his shirt. you were already breathless, clenching around nothing except the sound of his words. 

“tell me,” he muttered, staring up at your disheveled state. he made quick work of sliding your panties to the side, massaging the folds of your cunt between his fingers. you continued your writhing against him. 

“want you,” was what you managed to breathe out, hips rutting against his palm. he tsked, but allowed you this moment. a moment for him to bask in the way that you move your hips, writhe against his clothed cock that was egregiously hardening by the second and each amount of pressure you applied. 

he slid his fingers in and out of you with ultra maneuvering, in and out, all around. he was a mastermind when it came to feeling you up, exploring you both on the outside, and the in. you were in heaven, ultimately, when he curled his fingers so deeply upon thrusting them. your cunt tightened so viciously around him that he groaned, his head falling back and his hardened cock thrusting upward. to no avail, his dick was strained against the cloth of his pants.

“fuck,” he cussed, curling his fingers over and over again. your body began to shiver, and only began to fall from grace when his thumb traced against your clit. stimulation grew hotter and hotter, until you let out a piercing moan from the depths of your throat. he angled his fingers differently, making you squirm.

“lando!” you breathed, feeling your climax creeping up on you faster than you could even blink. your core tightened, a coil of veracious flames churning around each other manifesting a slew of energy that released sparks from your nerves. your folds were inflamed, puffy, beating hot that you couldn’t think straight. lando was touching you with his other hand anywhere that he could reach. he palmed your breasts through your dress, twisted a nipple to earn a delicious squeal. 

“come on, sweet thing,” he encouraged you with that stupid lopsided smile of his, you were looking down on him, sweat beading at his forehead, pupils blown dark and wide. his hand that was groping your breast moved upward, threading around the column of your throat. “show daddy what you’re made of.” 

his hand tightened, and you felt the coil snap. he continued to pump his fingers in and out, maneuvering so perfectly, hitting that exact spot with precision. 

he knew you came when your eyes rolled back into your head, legs quivering around his waist. god, you’re a sexy thing. 

his hand loosened from around your neck, dropping to your chest, fiddling with the van cleef necklace he had gifted you. it reeked of possession, marking you as his with the “l.n.” initials engraved on the back of the golden surface.

the moment of bliss passed before he was pulling the zipped down from your dress and throwing it from over your head. your panties were next, though the fabric was thin as is. there you were, bare and glistening, before your so-called ‘husband’ as you had worded it. he wouldn’t forget it, a spark igniting within him that was lit by the phrase leaving your tongue. he didn’t think that it would affect him so much—

but it did. 

he made quick work of his own pants, shoving them down to his knees beneath you, breathless and needy. 

you gripped the hem of his shirt. he lifted his arms to hasten the process, and the shirt went to the back seat. with his skin exposed, you couldn’t help but run your hands along his tan, toned chest. it made you dripping wet, though he was barely touching you now. 

with your skin atop of his, carnage was sure to ensue. he took a drag of his fingers against your wet cunt and brought it to his lips. he sucked on them, releasing with a ‘pop.’ your mouth hung open in anticipation for what he was going to do next. he always kept you on your toes. 

but this…this is not what you expected. 

he took a ring from his index finger, plated in silver, and slid it onto your ring finger on your left hand. the wedding finger. 

it stuck to your sweaty palm, sure enough to not slip off. 

“let’s make it official then, pretty girl.” 

you sat upon him astonished, looking down at the adornment that he had given to you. it dazzled on your finger. 

“if you’re my wife, what does that make me?”

the words trembled from your lips, thighs tightening around his own. you could feel his dick sprung to life against your backside. “my husband.” 

“good, baby, you learn fast.” 

you gulped, finally taking a look at him from his propped upright position. he was downright smitten with you, guzzling everything about you inside of him. you were his, so much fucking so, that he was going to ruin you. and he didn’t even feel bad for wanting it. 

“my husband…” you repeated, lowering your face down to meet his own. he smelled so good—a mix of sweat and his cologne. 

his hand tangled into your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail to meet your eye level. 

“makes me fucking crazy when y’say it…” 

you knew that was the truth. you’d known the minute you sat down in the car. his demeanor had changed, shifted to something darker that you didn’t quite understand. it was insane enough as is that you’d discovered so many things about him within a short period of time. 

“husband, daddy…what’s the difference?” you cooed, kissing up and down his neck. he groaned, landing a smack on your ass that had you giggling. 

“‘ll just make you a mommy if you keep throwin’ that word ‘round.” 

you grinned ear to ear. against his cheek, you took a deep breath in, before letting go. 

“daddy.” 

if you’ve ever made a good decision in your life, this has to be the best. a switch flipped. gears started to turn in his head. the spark plug burst into flames. 

you were his undoer,

the key to his shackled restraint,

the sun to his universe.

it was always you. you’d been right in front of him for the past two years. two years to get to this point. two years for the woman he loved most in this world to be sucking his neck whispering ‘daddy’ into his ear. 

lando sat upright in the seat. with a hand at the back of your head, he forced eye contact with you. this was different. this look. you could feel it in your heart, your folds, as they began to beat synchronously. life with him was euphoria, and sex had been the serendipitous release for both of you. 

but seeking the future together?

heaven incarnate.

despite being locked inside such a tight space, lando managed to swap your position with a suave move. you were on your back, shocked by his carnal rampage, as he hooked your legs upward. your toes scathed the ceiling of the car, pressed deep into the metal chassis. 

“kiss me,” you demanded with the breath that you could take. he didn’t waste a second, leaning down to your lips and capturing you with the most breathtaking press that he could muster. his tongue and your own fought for dominance over one another; you lost, quickly, unable to match his revered pace. 

he wanted to eat you from top to bottom. devour your insides, carry you with him every day of his life. you would be his, one way or another, and he didn’t care how it was. 

lucky enough, you were more than willing to be his bride, his lover, his person. 

because he was yours. 

then he was inside of you. braving the treachery of your tight walls, he hissed when the tip of his cock slipped through your folds. you’d been dripping on the leather seat. 

“fuck, baby…” his head fell to the crevice of your neck and collarbone. 

“oh my goddd…” the moan you both let out was terribly lewd, grotesque, even, with how he didn’t start a pace. you both savored this sweet moment of lust, passion, and a figurative toast to a lifelong commitment to fucking one another. 

with each thrust he took, he aimed to make a statement. deeper and deeper he penetrated you, his cock crafted of divine measure with how he quartered your g-spot. 

you could never stay still beneath him. it had him on edge the way you squirmed. dare say it was one of the most favorite things about you, though the list would be never-ending. you shiver from pleasure, leaning into him as your cunt squelches beneath you. 

echoes of moans bounce off the interior of the car, whilst a smile of greed and possession conceives on his own cheeks. the angle he has you at is deeper than any that you’ve had before— it left no room for noncommittal nature, no room for you to complain about wanting him closer, more, more, more. 

“y’feel me here?” his hand rest on your lower belly, your womb, as he applied pressure. you do feel him there. the indent of his cock is poignant, bulging out from the skin. 

“mhm…!” you whine, trying to keep your mouth shut from the onslaught of moans pouring out. 

his attention turned to your tits as he swallowed a nipple whole with his tongue, sucking feverishly at the sensitive bud. it had you weak, dribbling to puddy. 

he could only think about how you’d look pregnant. swollen tits, round belly, glowing with his child. 

“this what you wanted?” he grunted, his pace quickening. you were too dumb to speak, a droplet of drool leaking from your mouth. “hm? fuck you—fuck, fill you up?” 

your back arched at the sentence, not knowing that his words could have such an arousing effect on you. this arousal was different. the way you clench around him was different. your actions spoke a lot louder than your words. 

“yeah? i can feel you, darling.” sounds of skin slapping and your hoarse voice could only be heard. he fucked you so good, treated you even better. fuck it, you’d rather be pregnant than anything else. 

“please, please…” you didn’t know what you were pleading for, in truth— he was already fucking you like he’d been in a rut. 

“yeah? that what you want? want a baby?” 

your head nodded furiously up and down, tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks. lando bent down to kiss them away, followed by a capturing of your lips. he swallowed your breaths, your moans. he trailed kisses down the column of your throat; your collarbones, breasts, nipples, nothing went untouched by his mouth. 

“god…these…” he muttered against your tits, voice sending shockwaves through your body. “imagine how big they’d be.” he managed to chuckle to himself. “swollen and beautiful,” he kissed the top of your abdomen. 

“lando…”

his head shot up from his daze. 

“the time is right. please, please—” your words seemed to hit him like a truck. the foreplay had turned reality, and he was more than ready to lurch into fate. 

“what, pretty girl?”

your face flushed, biting your lip. “give me a baby, need it—lan, need it so bad.” your hand found the back of his neck, tugging on the strands of his hair. 

he tsked, his pace evening out to a level throttle. your lips formed a sweet pout, and he stroked your chin with his index finger. “give you?” he mocked. “oh, don’t think that’s how we ask, do we?”

“lan…please, please, can i have your baby? need it so bad lando, need it…” you swallowed your breath. “daddy…wanna make you a daddy…please.” 

it was more than enough for him. “atta girl.” he grunted, deepening his lackluster thrusts into thrilling rides on his cock. “y’learn fast…kids ‘r gonna be so smart.” 

“yes, yes! so good, lan.” you heaved, the heat in your cunt finding a boiling point, and he felt it by how tight you became around him. 

“go on, baby, take it. be a good girl and take it all.” you’d do anything to hear your lando call you a good girl. it had been more than enough to send you over the edge into a spiraling orgasm that had slick seeping around his cock. your vision whitened, and you could only see the shadow of your ‘husband’ through the light. 

with sloppy thrusts, lando came with ease. he didn’t pull out urgently, letting his cum soak inside of you. he peppered kisses along your ankles, your calves, and let them fall to the seat. 

out of breath, your chests rose and fell at a rapid pace. lando’s forehead connected with your own, and through the haze of post-sex, he smiled at you. 

you smiled back. the two of you broke into a laugh. 

“fuckin’ knew that was gonna happen today.” he commented lazily into your chest. a hand of yours threaded through his brown curls. 

“your mastermind plan to babytrap me.” 

he raised a brow. “did you plan on leaving?”

you gave him a knowing look. “not in the slightest.” 

he became embarrassed and sheepish as he hid his face into your ribs. “no chance of it, now.” 

you chuckled, flexing your fingers to see the ring still there. “i want a real proposal, by the way.” 

his head shot up. “what? this wasn’t good enough?”

you palmed his face with one hand, and tugged the back of his curled head with the other. “bastard.” 

it only took you two ten minutes to get your clothes back on from such a leisurely excursion from the empty parking garage. covered in his spit, sweat, and cum, you didn’t feel….dirty. 

when he finally pulled up to the valet and opened the door for you, you stepped out as graciously as possible. though your hair was a tangled mess— you tried your best. lucky enough it was late enough to where minimal paparazzi were gathered. thank god. 

you shifted on your feet, shimmying the dress down, but lando came to your rescue. he pulled the dress down where it was crumpled at the back, caught between the hem of your soaked underwear. 

“that was a rental, wasn’t it?” you pointed out, looking over your shoulder.

“they should auction it.” 

you spun around and laughed in his face, gagged by the ego he has. “you have a big head.” 

“need all that room for you.” 

“cheesy.” 

lando’s eyes lit up— though exhausted from the day and your antics, the sun still rose for him— “almost forgot—” he reached into his pocket whilst you waited patiently. 

he pulled out a bracelet.

a friendship bracelet. 

“thought it suited you.” he put it around your wrist, and you analyzed it clearly. in white, capitalized letters it read:

“MOMMY”

“you really had this thing planned.” you were impressed. 

he shifted on his heels, throwing his hands up as if saying ‘what can i say?’ “p thinks you’re pregnant now.” 

you gasped. “lando!” 

“i mean…hopefully.” he winked as you fiddled with the jewelry, still not bothering to take off the ring from your finger. 

“well…” you brought a finger to your lips, thinking, “we have to be certain, don’t we?” 

lando was catching your drift as you walked backwards towards the entrance of the hotel, luring him in with your charisma. “perhaps…”

“so…we need to try again.” he wasn’t going to argue with that. “and again.” or that. “and again, for good measure.” 

“you’re gonna kill me, baby.” he whined, chasing you up the steps. you squealed, running forward. inside the elevator you two went, clicking the floor for your room. 

after further inspection, lando’s brows furrowed after he glanced over you. “what?” 

he covered his mouth to shield his devious smile. 

“what, lando?” 

he coughed to hide his amusement, but it was a very bad act. “you’re…”

“what?” 

“you’re dripping.”

you looked down at your thighs and saw the glistening reflection of his cum seeping out of you. fuck. maybe the first time was the charm, but you hoped it wasn’t. 

you really hoped it wasn’t. 

tags ; @landoslutmeout@basicallyric@mybluesoul1@toriiez@customsbyjcg-blog@sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

[tbaluver]

can i request the lnd boys with a reader who is just astronomically good at giving head 😼😼

Giving Them Head + Small Fic- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre/ tags: MDNI, 18+, all male characters receiving head from reader, just smut no plot a/n: hihi anonnie! 😼😼 i've had a couple people ask me about writing this but i literally cannot find the anonnies asking me for this so if you're one of them i hope this finds you and you enjoy reading this ! i combined a headcanon + a small smut fic with no plot (': by the time i post this it'll be my birthday so this think of it as a little gift to you all ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ if it's not good and there's mistakes ummmm lmk after my birthday ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

An obedient precious baby boy who lets you do as you please on his cock.

He’s always making sure you’re okay with it and that you didn’t feel pressured to do anything. He prefers you to be enjoying yourself when you do it. He's just so gentle and careful with you. “Are you sure? Please don’t hurt yourself angel.”

Loves it when you give him light touches around his thighs. He already has pre-cum dripping from his cock the second you take off his underwear.

If you want to be in control, he’ll keep his hands to himself and grip anything around him. If he’s allowed to be in control, he’ll keep his hand on the back of your neck and thrusting up into your mouth.

When he finishes, he makes sure you’re absolutely alright before pressing the softest and sweetest kisses to your cheeks and neck. He’s more than willing to return the favor and it’s only a matter of time to be back in between your legs.

────୨ৎ────

“Are you sure?”

“It’s okay baby. I’m going to make you feel good.”

Your hand comes to rest comfortably against his member, slowly rubbing up and down against the tent that was forming under your palm. Fluttering your eyelashes at him, you catch a glimpse of his eyes that were closed shut and his mouth parting open as his hips rock lazily against your hand.

You look up at him, tugging the waistband of his pants as if you were asking for his permission. With a nod of his head, you tug the fabric down as he lifts his hips from the couch. You snake your hands all over his exposed skin making it painfully slow and light.

You take his half-hard cock in your hand, pumping him slowly. A breathy moan escapes his lips as your index finger traces the waistband of his briefs before you pull them all the way down, letting him spring free from the confines of his underwear.

Xavier watches you intently, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. He watches you lick your lips at the sight of his hot pink tip and throbbing length. Your fingers grip him softly, the touch of your skin against his sent his body into overdrive.

You grip him tightly and pump him a few times slowly. You start at the base and stop just before the head where pre-cum was already peeking through the slit. Bringing your tongue out, you lift his cock and run a wet trail through the vein on the underside. Soft moans and filthy mewls invade your ears as his hips buck into your hands.

You let your thumb swipe over the small pearls that had formed on his head, spreading the secretion across his hot pink head before giving it kitten licks. “Feel good baby?” You ask as your hands pump his lengths. He manages to let out a nod and your tongue darts over him while his thighs flex and tremble under your touch.

You bring up your hand from his leg to his throbbing head, letting your fingers squeeze and ghost over it before fisting and pumping him a couple times.

“Y/N-” He chokes out his words, his eyes screwing shut again as your tongue traces a wet trail up the underside vein of his cock again, flicking it off at the end that makes him suck in a sharp breath.

“Please-Y/n” He pleaded and you finally gave in, wrapping your lips around his tip. He softly groaned as you sunk down slowly on his length and began bobbing your head. His whole body feels like it was on fire as you took him further, his whole body screaming for you. You hollow out your cheeks and flutter your tongue against him and he can feel the familiar build up coming. 

He started bucking his hip into your mouth, hitting his tip on the back of your throat, earning a whine from you. You moved one of your free hands down further to his balls, cupping them in your palm.

He didn’t want to jerk his hips slightly or harder or fist your hair, worrying that it might hurt you. With a hum of your throat, signaling him that it was okay to let go and you felt rockets of his seed hit the back of your throat and you continued to suck harder.

You work through his high, milking him and taking every single drop down your throat he had to give you until you start feeling him limp in your mouth. You remove yourself from him, giving him a wet kiss on his head before looking up at him.

A heavenly sight to look at, his face flushed pink and his mouth hung open with wet trails-possibly from drooling. You settle on top of him, leaning against his chest as he weaves his fingers gently through your hair.

He places a soft and sweet kiss on the top of your head, “Let me take care of you now?”

Zayne:

It would take quite a bit of convincing to give this man head. It’s not that he doesn’t want you too, he just prefers to give you pleasure instead. He gets off on you getting pleasure alone. No matter how many times you tried to go down on him, he would simply lift you back onto his lap, or you’d find yourself flat on the mattress again.

His ears are bright red and his breath catches when your hand slowly strokes him and then soon after your lips meet his tip and slowly you bob down to his length. Your soft moans around him lets him know you’re enjoying it as much as he is.

His head slightly falls back, his eyes lid heavier and he’ll be watching you very closely. He’s enjoying the view and the pleasure but he will not hesitate to step in if he sees any tears forming in your eyes if it were too much for you. Listen he’s BIG so obviously he will be worried hearing and seeing you choke and gag on his cock. The type of man that loves to see you so he'll brush your hair out of your face and he'll hold it over your head.

Soft groans in the beginning but eventually will become deeper when you fasten the speed. Also let's out small curses and pants the entire time you're going down on him. Your mouth is just so wet, warm, and tight for him. He's enjoying every bit of it.

His breath catches when your hand slowly strokes him and your mouth meets his tip and you slowly bob down to fully engulf his entire length in your mouth. Completely loses his composure when you give his balls some attention and sorta becomes a babbling mess under you. He struggles to form complete sentences as he moans how amazing you feel.

When he finishes and you swallow everything he gives you, he pulls you up into his lap as he’s stroking your cheeks so tenderly. You both catch your breath as he pulls you close to his chest, planting gentle kisses on your forehead while he praises you and promises to return the favor.

Definitely enjoys it the first time and will not deny you again if you wanted to go down on him again. You have like a drug to him and he can't help but want more.

His favorite position is that he's laying down or sitting down so you'll be in a more comfortable position.

────୨ৎ────

Zayne sucks in a sharp breath as he watches you wrap your soft pretty lips around his hard length, slowly sinking it into your mouth. your eyes stay on his as you go down lower and lower down his shaft and then back up again. His head slightly tilts back and his eyes flutter closed, letting out a soft groan as he feels your tongue touch and swirl circles over his tip. You take your time with him at first, letting him fully lose his composure and relax.

Your tongue runs up and down his length, wetting him fully before you take him back into your mouth again. Using your free hand to stroke what your mouth can’t reach as your head bobs up and down.

A sharp breath escapes his lips, “You feel so good my love.” He tilts his head back, his gaze returning to you but this time his eyes look darker and his lid looks heavier. “Pretty girl” He murmurs small praises as your mouth works him up.

Your pace quickens sucking and stroking him with hunger. You continue to remove your mouth off him to spit on his tip before returning to taking his shaft back in your mouth again. His hands tangle into your hair, pulling so softly on the strands as he loses himself in the rhythm you created.

His head falls back into the pillow, his eyes clenching shut and you knew he was close. His skin was warmer than it usually was and you notice the way his abs clench and his length throbs in your mouth. Your mouth enthusiastically swallows around him while your hands massage his balls to meet towards his climax.

His orgasm courses through him, soft cursing spilling from his lips. His hips stutter and his thighs shake slightly on either side of you, the waves of pleasure rocking through his body. Thick white ropes of his cum spill on your tongue and he’s practically melting right under you.

You continue, your mouth, tongue, and hands are still going down on him. His cum and your saliva dripping down his length and over his balls as you continue to suck him thoroughly.

“That’s enough my love.” His voice now hoarse, the last part coming out in a soft whimper. You release him with a wet pop and he groans. You give his sensitive tip a couple soft kisses before climbing on top of him. When you look up at him, his face is flushed in a soft pink and his ears glowing bright red.

He wraps his arms around you, your stomach resting against him and your legs tangling together. He plants gentle kisses on the top of your head before nuzzling into you.

“How did I get so lucky?” He murmurs.

Rafayel:

The first time you ever gave him head, he was a feral mess under your hands. The sight of his pretty hot pink tip out and his length wrapped around your fingers made you practically drool as you stroke him. The way you occasionally look at him through your pretty lashes as you try to take him his entire length, makes him cum on the spot and you haven’t even taken him fully in your mouth yet.

He tries his best to control himself but the moment your lips engulf his weeping cock, he lets out a strangled moan and his head is thrown back. The way your mouth felt around the sensitive head of his cock felt so wonderful, he’s a babbling mess asking-begging for more of you to fully take him. And of course you will, you never disappoint him.

You bobbed your head up and down, taking a little bit more of his length at your own pace while your other free hand fondles his balls. The mix of pleasure and seeing you go down him like this- it was as if he was on a high or if he was just so entranced by you. It’s as if you were some type of siren or sea witch and he was under your spell.

He doesn’t care where his cum goes. You can swallow it or not. He just wants to paint your lovely lips with his white fluids.

He’s very vocal and loud. He’s a whimpering mess once you begin to lick the pre-cum leaking from his tip til he finishes.

Once he catches his breath, he’ll pull you up into his lap and envelop you in a lingering, passionate kiss. He does not care or complain about the fact that your mouth tastes like him. He’ll tell you how you’re so good to him and how amazing you are.

Practically becomes addicted to your mouth and fantasizes about how you treat his cock so well.

────୨ৎ────

Smirking, he traces his thumb along your bottom lip, humming with appreciation as you wrap your lips around the digit. He holds back a groan as you sucked it gently as your eyes fluttered shut. He lets you suck on his finger for a moment longer, the images lewd images of your mouth wrapped around something else flashing in his mind.

He withdraws his thumb from your mouth a pop. “Is there anything else on your highness mind?” Rafayel arched his brow as you nodded eagerly.

“Enlighten me”

You moved off from his lap entirely and went down onto your knees in between his legs. You smile sinfully as your fingers make contact with his belt. He was leaning back into the couch, his dress shirt unbuttoned, revealing his sculpted chest that was marked with a few spots from your kisses.

He helps you remove his pants and boxers down before you push him back down on the couch. There was no doubt he was big, the sight alone of it standing up proudly made your mouth water. Bigger than any man you have seen before and you wondered if it was because he was a Lemurian.

You maintained eye contact with Rafayel as you wrapped your hand around his girth, smirking at the way he lets out a quiet whimper and how he drops his head back. He spreads his thighs further apart to give you more room to work with.

“Look at me Raf,” You stroke his length in your hand, “Want to see how good I make you feel.” 

His breath hitches as his dick twitches in your palm. Half-lidded eyes fluttered as he looked down at you and your movements. How he wishes he can save the image of you on your knees and jerk off to it.

Your tongue swiped over the head of his dick, collecting the pre-cum on your tongue. It was music to your ears to hear the way he chokes and whimpers out your name from your movement. You take his length deeper into your mouth, your tongue massaging over the vein on the underside of his dick.

He groans deeply as he watches his length disappear past your lips slowly. He was resisting the urge to buck his hips up toward your mouth and push your head further down his length. “Y/nnnnn,” He whimpered your name, as you rested your hand on top of his thighs as you moved back with a sly grin.

“Do whatever you want,” You hum, your lips covered in a mixture of his cum and your saliva as you licked your lips. “I can handle it.”

That was all he needed as his hand was in your hair, guiding your face back down to suck on his cock. His thighs tensed as he pushed your head almost all the way down so that the head of his dick nudged the back of your throat which caused you to gag.

The sound and feel of it made his head drop back in pleasure, “sososo good- just like that-hah- fuck” His words and praises had you moaning over his length as he curled his fingers in your hair to guide you up and down. “please don’t stop,” he moans as your fingers dig further into his thighs.

You watched the way his mouth parts open in a moan as your head continues to bob up and down his length. You hummed, reaching one of your hands to his balls, rolling them between your fingers as you wrapped your lips around the head of his dick, sucking it sweetly.

Your name spills from his mouth and his hips stutter as his hand pushes you down on him further. “so close,” He manages to choke out, as you increase your movements and swallow him down. 

Your eyes roll back as he shoots his seed down your mouth. You moved your head back up to his length, continuing to suck as your hand strokes the rest of his length to milk out every last drop he has left to give. His dick twitches soft as you move your mouth off of him.

“C’mere” He says while smiling softly, his chest rising and falling, his body trembling as he comes down from his high. You climb up on his lap as he wraps his arms around you to pull you closer to him. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess.

“Kiss me” He pouts before you cup his face in your hands, leaning in to give him a passionate sweet kiss.

Sylus:

He’s never once asked you too and he definitely won’t turn you down when you were comfortable in doing so. The topic has only surfaced from jokes between you through conversations but he has never once pressured you in anything about it.

Oh. This man loves to see you fit his overwhelmingly large length in your mouth. He finds it amusing to watch you on your knees, desperate to unbuckle his belt to free his throbbing cock from his restraining pants.

Does not take his eyes off you the entire time. He just loves how you take him so well and how you look with his dick in your mouth.

You take your time, teasing him, kissing the tip and gliding your tongue on his length. He doesn’t rush you at all, but will occasionally throw, “Go easy on me kitten. I don’t know if I can last that long seeing you like this.” He says as his eyes are becoming heavy lidded and absolutely lost in the pleasure of your mouth. It’s fair game after all, he does do that to you when he’s eating your pussy out.

He'll hold and tug on your hair but not to the point that it would hurt you.

Will spoil you with praise if you take all of the white finished fluid in your mouth. He doesn’t really care about where he finishes. He can finish in you or on you, whatever you want.

────୨ৎ────

“You want to suck daddy off princess?”

He rests his fingers on his temple, leaning against his shoulder for support as he watches you in amusement as you tug his gray sweatpants. He sits up straight, cupping one of your cheeks and gently caressing your lips with his thumb. “You don’t have too sweetie. I don’t expect anything like that from you.”

“I-I really want to Sy,” You gulped, your eyes scanning down his face. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.

He leans forward, trapping your lips in a soft sweet kiss, his tongue peeking out to taste you. You allowed him to guide the kiss and the images of his cock fit into your mouth flashes through your mind, letting a strained moan escape your throat.

“If you don’t like it or if it feels wrong I want you to stop and tell me.” The size difference between you was overwhelming and the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

“I promise Sy”

You slip off him, settling yourself on your knees and between his thighs. His hands found the drawstring of his sweatpants, working the knots loose as he felt your gaze on him. He pulls the fabric down his legs, leaving his cock only covered by the thin material of his black cotton boxers. He kept his eyes locked on you while your gaze set on his bulge that was inches to your face.

Teasing you, he drags his palm over the lump and watches you in amusement as your eyes widen at the outline of his cock. “You like that baby?” He lets out a breathy chuckle as your head snaps up to meet his gaze, finding it a struggle to find a response.

You continue to watch him move his boxers lower, revealing his cock standing proud. His tip hot pink and his girth overwhelmingly large. He delicately takes your hand in his, guiding it to grip his cock. He wrapped your palm around his base, guiding you down the rest of his cock.

“All yours baby”

You take the tip of his shaft, placing it in your mouth while holding the base of his shaft in your right hand. You sink down slowly as far as you can go before you bob up and down. He lets you get comfortable, finding your rhythm as he basks in the feeling of you wrapped around him.

You take your left hand to fondle his balls, rolling it in the palm of your hand while your right hand keeps steady at the base of his dick. Your mouth sloppily slurps erotically at the top of his cock.

“Just like that. Doing so well for me,” Sylus breathed a moan at the feeling, your soft tongue slicking over his head. Your hand continues to pump from the base up to reach your mouth as you kiss and licked at his member.

The feeling was all too good to him and the sight alone was intoxicating. He runs a hand through your hair, brushing the stay hairs out of your face with his fingers. Your tongue snaking and tracing along the vein on his shaft.

He guides you with his hands in your hair, your hand now laying flat on his thigh. He gently rolls your hips upwards, pushing his length into your warm mouth. He kept his eyes locked on you, resisting the urge to close his eyes at the feeling. He gently bucked up into your mouth, letting you get used to the feeling of him controlling the pace now. Keeping the sloppy pace, he felt the pressure in his stomach tightening with each lick and suck you gave him.

“S’fucking good babe. Gonna make me cum,” He groans, feeling your spit drool down on his length. He flutters your eyes shut, your moans consuming his ears as he shoots his load down your throat. Your name continually escapes from his lips with a mix of praises, his chest rising and falling, struggling to regain the breath you’ve stolen from him.

He lifts you back onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck as he showers your face with kisses before capturing your lips and pulling you tightly against him.

[drewharrisonwriter]

Softer

Status: One Shot, Complete.

Pairings: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Marriage has been good to Joel—he’s happier, softer, and maybe a little pudgier.

Word Count: 1,592 words

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (hehe), mentions of weight gain, body appreciation, strong language

A/N: This fic was written for @beefrobeefcal’s Married Joel Sits on You Challenge! Am I too late for this challenge? 😅 Please forgive me for any mistakes, English is not my first language and it's my first time joining such a challenge, and I utterly enjoyed it. Thank you so much Beefro for this 💖

The prompt was: "Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline."

P.S. Do you enjoy my writing? If so, I’d truly appreciate any support through comments, likes, and reblogs! If you’re able, donations or writing commissions would also mean the world to me as I’m currently managing everything from my phone due to financial constraints. You can donate here or DM me your commission ideas. Thank you so much for your love and support! 💜

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

Joel adjusted his sunglasses, glancing at his reflection in the mirrored elevator walls. It was late afternoon, and they’d just come back up from the beach to their hotel room. He scratched his beard, tugging his shirt down over his belly, feeling the fabric cling just a little too snugly.

Tommy’s teasing echoed in his mind. "You packin’ some extra cargo these days, big brother?" The little shit had poked his side earlier as they lounged by the beach, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world.

"Asshole," Joel muttered under his breath.

You glanced up at him, curious. "What’s that, honey?"

Joel shook his head, giving you a half-smile. "Nothin’, sweetheart. Just thinkin'." He hooked an arm around your waist, pulling you close as the elevator doors slid open. You walked out together, your hand slipping down to his lower back as you strolled through the quiet hallway.

“Tommy’s words still botherin’ you?” you asked softly, your voice coming off with gentle teasing. You gave his belly a playful squeeze. “He’s full of shit, Joel. I love you like this. Tommy don’t know what he’s talkin’ about.”

Joel grunted in response, though a small smile tugged at his lips. He didn’t say anything as you continued walking, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly easing under your touch.

Once you reached your suite, Joel swiped the keycard, and you both rushed inside, quickly locking the door behind you. You double-checked the lock, raising an eyebrow at him. “You sure you locked it, Joel? You know how those girls are… Wouldn’t put it past Sarah or Ellie to barge in at the wrong moment.”

Joel let out a low chuckle, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you close. “I ain’t paid this much for a vacation just to get interrupted when I’m tryin’ to make another baby with my hot wife,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “Trust me, darlin’. That door ain’t budging.”

A playful grin tugged at your lips as you teased, “Baby, aren’t you a little old for a newborn?”

Joel cut his eyes at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re real funny, you know that?” He dipped his head, brushing his lips against yours. “Doesn’t matter how old I am. If it were up to me, I’d keep you pregnant all the damn time.”

Your body flushed at his words, the heat between you flaring with the roughness in his tone. “Yeah?” you whispered, your voice thick with need. “You’d keep me pregnant, huh?”

Joel’s hands slid down to your ass, squeezing as he pulled you close. “Damn right. We could start right now if you want,” he growled, kissing the side of your neck. “Or maybe after a couple more vacations like this one.” His lips traveled lower, sucking a mark just beneath your ear.

Your breath caught as you smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “I don’t mind more vacations first,” you teased, your hands wandering down his back as the two of you continued to make out as you made your way toward the bed.

Joel’s large frame practically caged you in as he guided you down onto the plush mattress. You tugged at his shirt, pulling it off as he hovered over you, his body solid and warm. His fingers made quick work of your bikini top, tossing it aside.

As he leaned over you, your hand ghosted over his once-firm stomach. Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline.

“You look so good…” you hummed. 

Joel’s expression softened for a moment, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he kissed you. “You mean I’ve gone fat?” He grinned before leaning in, his lips grazing your ear.

You laughed, cupping his face. “I love it,” you assured him, pulling him in for another kiss, deeper this time.

As you kissed, Joel’s hand slid between your legs, fingers dipping into the wet heat between your thighs. “Goddamn, baby,” he groaned against your mouth, his fingers teasing your entrance before sliding two thick digits inside you, curling them just right.

Your body jerked at the sensation, and you whimpered softly, “Jesus, Joel!” It’s pretty good and scary at the same time that he knows exactly where and where to curl his fingers inside you to hit that soft spot that makes you see stars. 

His fingers worked inside you, while drawing slow circles on your clit with his thumb that had your hips bucking up toward him. “So needy,” he murmured, “But you’re gonna have to wait, sweetheart. Wanna take my time with you.”

You gasped, head falling back against the bed as he worked you over, his free hand holding your hip steady. The rough pad of his thumb brushed over your clit, and the pressure was just enough to send sparks flying through your body. “Fuck, Joel…”

Joel growled, his mouth closing over your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You moaned at the sensation, your body arching into his touch as his fingers continued their slow, torturous rhythm inside you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging hard as the pleasure built deep in your core. He kissed his way back up to your lips, his beard rough against your skin as he murmured, “You’re gonna cum for me, baby. But not yet.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your body trembled beneath him as he finally pulled his fingers out, leaving you gasping for breath.

“I need you, Joel,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. “Please…”

Joel positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. “You’re gonna take every inch of me, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. “Gonna bury myself so deep inside you, I’ll be the only thing you can feel.”

With one slow, deliberate thrust, Joel buried himself to the hilt, his cock stretching you wide as his blunt tip kissed your cervix. You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders, clinging to him as he held himself still, giving you a moment to adjust.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel groaned, his forehead pressed against yours as he began to move, each slow thrust hitting deeper than the last. “You feel so good… so fuckin’ tight around me.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he picked up the pace, his cock dragging against every nerve inside you, setting your body on fire. “Joel…” you gasped, your voice breathless.

He leaned down, his lips closing over one of your nipples again, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak before sucking hard. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you moaned, your hips rolling up to meet each of his thrusts.

Joel groaned, his hand sliding between your bodies to rub slow circles on your clit. “Cum for me, baby,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. “Wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

Your body responded instantly, the tension snapping as your orgasm crashed over you. You cried out, your walls clenching tight around him, your vision going white as a wave of pleasure rippled through you.

Joel’s hips stuttered as you came, and with a deep groan, he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his release. He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and trembling from the intensity of it all.

After a few moments, Joel gently rolled off you, still catching his breath as he sat up on the edge of the bed. “Don’t move, darlin’,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom. He returned moments later with a warm, damp towel, gently cleaning you up with tender strokes.

“C’mere,” Joel whispered, tossing the towel aside and pulling you into his arms. You curled up against his chest, his warmth and steady heartbeat lulling you into a blissful daze. He kissed the top of your head, his large hand rubbing slow circles on your back. 

“You okay, sweetheart?”You smiled sleepily, nuzzling into his chest and just humming your reply. 

Joel chuckled, brushing a hand through your hair. “Good thing we locked that door. Last thing I need is Sarah or Ellie walkin’ in while we’re busy.”

You snickered, burying your face into his chest with a soft laugh. “We’ve done a good job avoidin’ that so far.”

Joel sighed contentedly, running his hand along your back. “Yeah, but I swear, if they catch us one day, Tommy’s gonna have a field day. He’s already givin’ me shit about puttin’ on a little weight.”

You laughed harder, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him, your hand slowly sliding down to his soft belly. “This pudge’s the proof you’re enjoyin’ yourself, Joel.”

Joel chuckled, his chest rumbling as he pulled you closer. “Hell, maybe you’re right,” he admitted with a smirk. “Can’t say I’m complainin’, though.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I love you like this. Softer, but still strong.”

Joel squeezed you gently, his voice quieter. “Feels good, don’t it? Finally bein’ able to enjoy things.” 

You could only hum in response. You let sleep take you, safe in the warmth of his arms.

[xoxochb]

pls more fics with riordanverse characters x persephone!reader !!!!

— cinnamon girl

warnings: none? pairings: riordanverse boys x daughter of persephone a/n: I didn’t want to chose so I just did all of them at once including percy again, I hope you don’t mind angel

percy jackson loves leaving flowers at your doorsteps every morning. sometimes if he’s lucky he’ll catch you on your way out of your cabin and he’s able to hand them to you personally. he prefers this over anonymously gifting them (even if you know it’s him every time) mainly because he loves the way your face lights up instantly and you reward him with a sweet kiss to his pink cheeks. he also finds himself taking in your scent whenever you hug, you always smell like your favorite flowers and fruits, something he’s grown to love dearly. when percy finds himself with free time he likes to pick flowers and weave them into a flower crown for you; you’d taught him prior how to do so, he recalls the soft gestures with your hands and your sweet like honey voice instructing him on how to do so, with this knowledge he uses it to create a crown exactly your size, giving it to you after you’ve had a long day, instantly washing away your previous worries when you settle in the arms of your most beloved

jason grace likes to help you tend to your garden. whether it’s late at night, early morning, mid day, or even if it means skipping meals to do so. sometimes he often finds himself reading books on various types of plants and flowers so when you’re speaking to him about them he’s able to understand what you’re talking about. he’ll also use this knowledge to his ability to impress you (he did this a lot before you began dating— even know he won’t admit to it but you know the truth). since jason is a frequent visiter to your garden he bought his own tools so you wouldn’t have to share with him. although he won’t admit this, jason is a sucker for your kisses, specifically after you’ve picked a fresh fruit and taken a bite from it, he makes sure write after to claim your lips with his, often he takes a bite of it himself to try your masterpiece, at the same time eating it so his lips taste as sweet as yours. jason also enjoys picking your fruits and vegetables with you and helping you prepare a dish with those crops. most frequently you’ll bake pies or cakes with the fruits, and even if jason isn’t fond of that certain fruit he’ll eat it regardless because you made it and he loves you (he additionally gets to see your bright smile when he says he enjoys it. he’d never miss an opportunity to make you smile)

leo valdez was intimidated by you at first sight. he believed you were gorgeous, yes, there was no doubt in his mind that you were anything less than ethereal. but you were also horrifying. with your abilities to control shadows— courtesy of your mother being the queen of the underworld— you could pop out from the darkness at will. once leo got to know you he realized you were as sweet as the fruits you grew, an angel. his cheeks as red as your favorite pomegranates when you call him out for stuttering after you gained the knowledge that he was afraid of you before. nonetheless he’s enamored with you, completely and utterly. he loves how everytime you walk, flowers grow and return from the dead if wilting, shades of blue, green, red, pink, purple, and ant imaginable color you’d like. you often find yourselves in the fields, you pick a few flowers from the ground and stick them into leo’s curls, making his face flush a pink hue at your affectionate action.

luke castellan likes when you tell him about your underworld-ly related powers. he’s well aware your mother is known for her spring, gardening persona but he’s also interested in the aspects of her personality that include being the wife of the god of the dead. you often find yourself in your free time taking luke to your fields with your necromancy books and teaching him the ways of contacting the dead. he listens attentively (which includes 99% staring at your lips and 1% listening. he can’t help it when they’re still red from the fruits you ate earlier, he even sneaks a few kisses in when your in thought— ultimately stopping you from thinking). not only can you contact the dead but you’re also able to travel through plants similar to the hades children, though it works just about the same and drains you just as much. luke lovingly scolds you every time you use this ability when it’s not necessary, he hates seeing you in agony regardless of what happened. and speaking of agony, persephone children can heal themselves with their plants easily, but luke also can’t help but worrying every time you hurt yourself or prick your hand on a thorn or whatever caused you harm, it’s just in his nature as your dear boyfriend

[romugh]

THE WIDOW'S LACE - NR

pairing- stripper!natasha romanoff x fem!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, strappie (n rcv), strappie suckie (r rcv), fingering (n rcv), oral (r rcv), rough'-ish' sex? - i think that's all!

wc- 7.7k (of pure smut) I'M SORRY I'M TRYING TO WRITE SHORTER FICS I PROMISE

a/n- part 1, because YES i have THREE parts ready for this. have fun reading! (big shoutout to @traveler-at-heart; your post made me go feral, i adore you)

synopsis- you find yourself in a stripclub, then suddenly you find yourself in a stripper.

taglist- @lost-mortemanghel - dm or comment to be added to my taglist! x

Natasha wasn’t just any stripper. She was the stripper. The one everyone fell in love with the moment she stepped on stage. Her body moved like sin wrapped in silk, her confidence radiating like a flame that drew every pair of eyes in the club to her. She knew exactly what she was doing, and more importantly, she knew exactly what effect she had on people.

Men and women alike couldn’t help but stare, their lust and admiration hanging thick in the air as they watched her every move. She thrived off it, fed off the power she held over them. They came in hoping for a glance, a smile, a touch. And she delivered—just enough to keep them coming back, but never enough to give them what they really wanted. That was how she liked it. She held the control. Always.

But tonight, something was different.

Amidst the usual sea of desire-filled gazes, she noticed you. You weren’t like the others. Your eyes weren’t filled with the same desperation, the same helpless longing. You weren’t staring at her like she was a goddess to be worshipped. No, you looked at her like she was a challenge. Like you could see right through the seductive veil she’d carefully crafted. It made her stomach twist in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

As she danced, her eyes would flick to you now and again, curious and intrigued. She was used to adoration, not this steady, controlled gaze that almost felt like it was pulling her in. And when the set ended, when her body stilled but her heart raced, she found herself making a decision she hadn’t made in a long time.

She led you to the back room, a place few had ever been. Not because it wasn’t allowed, but because Natasha rarely felt the need to take anyone there. She didn’t need the intimacy the room allowed for, she didn’t crave connection. But there was something about the way you looked at her, like you were waiting for her to slip, waiting for the moment her confidence faltered, and it made her want to see how far you’d push her.

The door clicked shut behind her, the faint thrum of bass from the bar fading into the background as the two of you were swallowed by the dimly lit room. Natasha leaned back against the door, her chest still heaving slightly from the exertion of the performance, but her eyes were as sharp as ever.

“You think you’re something special, huh?” she asked, her voice smooth but with an edge of amusement, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. She tilted her head, watching you carefully, as if expecting you to crumble under her stare like everyone else did.

But you didn’t. Instead, you stepped closer, your movements slow, deliberate, the weight of your presence filling the small space. The air grew thicker with tension, and for the first time in a long while, Natasha wasn’t sure if she was the one in control anymore.

“Do you?” you countered, voice low and calm, your eyes never leaving hers.

Her smirk didn’t falter, but the challenge in your words sent a thrill through her, one she hadn’t expected. She straightened, pushing off the door slightly, closing the gap between you even more, her body mere inches from yours. She could feel your heat, and it made her pulse quicken despite herself.

“You’re not like the others,” she said, her voice dropping an octave as her gaze raked over you, taking in the steady confidence in your stance. “But you’re still here.”

“So are you.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with something that neither of you wanted to name just yet. Natasha could feel the tension, thick and suffocating, like static in the air before a storm. Her body was taut, her skin prickling with anticipation, but she refused to show it. She wouldn’t let you see the effect you were having on her. Not yet.

Then, in one smooth movement, you closed the remaining space between you, your body pressing into hers, pinning her gently but firmly against the door. She gasped, her breath catching in her throat at the sudden proximity, but she didn’t pull away. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.

Instead, she lifted her chin, eyes defiant even as her pulse raced beneath her skin. “What’s your plan?” she asked, her voice still steady, but with a hint of breathlessness now, a tremor that betrayed the control she was so desperately clinging to.

Your lips were so close to hers now that she could feel the warmth of your breath against her skin. But instead of kissing her, you hovered, the tension between your mouths almost unbearable. She was used to people taking what they wanted from her, always rushing to close the gap, always desperate for her touch. But you held back, and that restraint was driving her mad.

“You’ll see,” you murmured, your voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.

Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest, her body betraying her, a flush rising in her cheeks as the weight of your presence pressed down on her. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t entirely sure what would happen next, and the thrill of that uncertainty coursed through her veins like fire.

Then, without warning, your hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head back, forcing her to look up at you. Natasha gasped, her lips parting in surprise, but her eyes remained defiant, daring you to do more, to push her further.

“You want this, don’t you?” you asked, your voice steady, commanding.

Her lips curled into a smirk, though her breath hitched slightly under your firm grip. “Maybe,” she replied, her voice dripping with defiance, even as her body arched toward you, craving more.

“Then show me,” you demanded, and with that, you released her hair, watching as she slid down to her knees with a fluid grace that still spoke of her control, her pride. Even now, on her knees, she wasn’t submitting. She was choosing to allow you to do this, and that made all the difference.

She looked up at you, her eyes gleaming with that familiar challenge, and then her gaze flicked to the strap you had tucked out of your pants. Without a word, she leaned in, her lips brushing against the tip of it, soft and teasing at first, like she was still testing the waters, still holding on to that last shred of control.

But the moment she tasted it, something shifted. Her tongue darted out, swirling around the tip before she took it into her mouth, her eyes never leaving yours. She wasn’t rushing, no, the Black Widow never rushed for anyone. But there was an urgency now, a tension in the way her hands gripped your thighs as she worked the strap deeper into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing with effort.

You watched as she swallowed her pride along with the length of the strap, her eyes watering slightly as she struggled to take it deeper. But she didn’t stop, didn’t pull back. She pushed herself further, her throat constricting around it, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she gagged softly around the toy.

“Is this what you wanted?” you asked, your voice laced with dark amusement as you thrust your hips forward, pushing the strap deeper into her mouth. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her body trembling as she struggled to take more.

Her nails dug into your thighs, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts as you fucked her mouth, the wet sounds filling the room. Her control was slipping, piece by piece, and you could see the frustration in her eyes when she looked up at you, her gaze filled with a mix of defiance and need.

You pulled back suddenly, the strap slipping from her lips with a wet pop. Natasha gasped, her chest heaving as she panted, her lips swollen and red from the effort, saliva glistening on her chin. She looked wrecked, but not broken. Not yet.

“Something wrong?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

She narrowed her eyes. "You could help," she murmured, trying to regain some of the control she was losing, had already lost. 

“You want help?” you asked, your tone low, teasing. You pushed her head back toward the strap, watching her struggle against her own desire for dominance. She needed this—needed you—but she wasn’t ready to admit it, not fully.

Natasha’s lips parted, taking the strap back into her mouth, but you didn’t let her have it easy. Your hips thrust forward, forcing her to take it deeper than before. Her throat constricted around it, her eyes watering slightly as you pushed deeper. She gagged, her nails digging into your thighs, but she didn’t pull back.

"Is this what you wanted?" you asked, your voice harder now, more demanding. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her body tense as you fucked her mouth, using her. The wet sounds filled the room, mixing with the faint bass from the bar outside.

Natasha choked slightly as you pushed in deeper, but she didn’t stop, her body trembling as she tried to take more of it. But you could see it—her frustration. The realisation that she wasn’t fully in control was pushing her over the edge.

Her breath was ragged when you finally pulled back, saliva glistening on the strap as she panted, lips trembling with effort. Her eyes met yours, and for the first time, she looked... needy. Desperate, even.

“You need more, don’t you?” you asked, gripping her hair tightly. “You think you can handle it?”

She didn’t answer right away, her throat working hard to swallow her pride along with the saliva pooling in her mouth. And then, quietly, she nodded. Just once.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please.”

That was all you needed to hear. You yanked her up by the hair, spinning her around and pressing her up against the door. Natasha’s breath hitched, but she didn’t protest. She wasn’t giving up, but she was giving in.

You crashed your mouth against hers, devouring her in a kiss that left no room for doubt. This wasn’t about control anymore—it was about possession. You bit down on her lower lip, eliciting a sharp gasp from her, her body arching toward you as if she couldn’t help herself.

Natasha's gasp filled the small room, her lips bruised and swollen from your punishing kiss. She should have hated it—the loss of control, the way you commanded her body with nothing more than your presence—but instead, it made her burn. Her skin was flushed, her breath coming in short, shallow pants as you pressed her firmly against the door, your hand still tangled in her hair, holding her exactly where you wanted her.

Her body betrayed her, arching into you, her hips moving instinctively, desperate for any friction to relieve the building pressure inside her. She was wet—soaking, even—and you hadn’t even touched her properly yet. The realisation made her cheeks flush hotter, though whether it was from embarrassment or arousal, she couldn’t tell.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your eyes dark, predatory, as they swept over her flushed face, her heaving chest, and the slight tremble in her legs. “Look at you,” you murmured, your voice a low rasp, sending shivers down her spine. “All that control you like to have… where is it now?”

Natasha swallowed hard, her throat bobbing, but she couldn’t find the words. She had no clever retort, no sharp quip to throw back at you. She was too lost in the way you were looking at her, too consumed by the need coursing through her veins.

Your grip on her hair tightened, pulling her head back slightly, forcing her to look up at you. “Answer me,” you demanded, your lips brushing against her ear, your breath hot against her skin. “Where’s all that control, Natasha?”

She shuddered, her eyelids fluttering as her body arched toward you once more. “Gone,” she whispered, barely audible, her voice trembling with the weight of her admission. It was a small crack in her armour, but it was enough. The moment you uttered her off-stage name, the one no one else knew, Natasha’s brain short-circuited.

You smirked, satisfied with her answer. “Good girl.” The praise made her stomach flip, a rush of heat spreading through her as the words sank in. She didn’t realise how badly she had wanted it—needed it—until you gave it to her.

Without another word, you spun her around, pressing her chest against the cold, hard surface of the door. Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands splaying against the wood as she tried to ground herself. You stepped closer, your body pressing against hers from behind, your fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down her spine.

She was tense, muscles coiled tight, every nerve ending on fire as your hand slid lower, lower, until your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her panties. The moment you touched her, a low moan slipped from her lips, her hips bucking back against you, desperate for more.

“Patience,” you murmured against her ear, your lips grazing her skin. “I’m not done playing with you yet.” Your fingers teased her, slipping through her slick folds, but never giving her enough pressure to satisfy the ache between her thighs. Natasha groaned, her head dropping forward, her forehead pressing against the door as she struggled to keep herself together.

But you didn’t let up. You kept her right on the edge, drawing out every gasp, every shiver, every desperate sound she made until she was trembling beneath your touch, her body begging for release.

“Please,” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible, but it was enough for you. You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear as you pressed two fingers deep inside her without warning.

Natasha gasped, her whole body jolting from the sudden intrusion, but she didn’t protest. She couldn’t. All she could do was moan, her fingers curling against the door as her body surrendered to the pleasure you were giving her.

You moved slowly at first, your fingers thrusting in and out of her with a measured precision, building her up, making her crave more. Her hips moved in time with your hand, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as she chased the release that was just out of reach.

But then, just when she thought she might finally tip over the edge, you stilled your movements.

“No!” The word slipped out before she could stop it, her body still writhing, desperate for the release you kept denying her. She turned her head slightly, looking at you over her shoulder, her eyes wide and pleading. “Please, don’t stop.”

You chuckled softly, your breath warm against her neck as you leaned in closer. “Look at you,” you murmured, your voice a low, dangerous rasp. “Begging for it. You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

Natasha bit her lip, her cheeks flushing hot with shame and arousal. She should have hated the way you were toying with her, should have fought back, but she couldn’t. Not when her body was burning like this, not when she was so close to falling apart beneath your touch.

Your fingers curled inside her, pressing against that spot deep within her that made her see stars. Natasha moaned, her hips bucking back against you, her whole body trembling as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level.

“Come for me, Natasha,” you whispered against her ear, your voice soft but commanding. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

It was all she needed. With a sharp cry, her body tensed, her muscles clenching tight around your fingers as she came hard, her release washing over her like a tidal wave. She gasped for air, her body shaking as you worked her through it, your fingers never stopping, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until she was a trembling, panting mess.

When it was over, when her body finally stopped trembling, you pulled your fingers from her, a satisfied smirk tugging at your lips as you watched her slump against the door, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing now as you brushed a strand of hair from her face. Natasha shuddered at the praise, her heart still racing as she tried to catch her breath.

Before she could fully recover, you turned her around again, pressing her back against the door as your lips crashed against hers in a bruising, possessive kiss. Natasha moaned into your mouth, her hands gripping your shoulders, pulling you closer, her body still aching for more, even after the intense release you’d just given her.

Your hands roamed her body, your fingers skimming over her bare skin. She shivered at your touch, her breath hitching as your hands moved higher, teasing the edges of her red corset.

“Do you want more?” you whispered against her lips, your voice dark and teasing.

Natasha nodded, her fingers tightening on your shoulders. “Yes,” she breathed, her voice soft and desperate.

She was still trembling, her breath ragged as she tried to recover, but you weren’t done with her yet. Not even close. You pulled back slightly, your lips brushing over her jawline, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Her head fell back against the door with a soft thud, her skin flushed, pupils blown wide as she looked at you with a haze of lust clouding her gaze. You could see how desperate she was, how badly her body was craving more, needing to be filled.

Your hand slid down her thigh, strong fingers curling around her knee as you lifted her leg, pushing it up to her chest. The position opened her up to you in a way that made your mouth water, giving you the perfect view of her already slick and swollen entrance, quivering and glistening with arousal. Her panties had been soaked through long before, but you ripped them down her legs now, tossing them aside without a second thought. Natasha whimpered, her fingers clutching at your shoulders as her body arched, her hips instinctively pushing toward you, searching for the friction she so desperately needed.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your voice low and dark with desire as your hand travelled back up her thigh, tracing the sensitive skin with teasing slowness. “So fucking wet and ready for me.” You reached between your bodies, gripping the base of your strap as you positioned it at her entrance, the thick head brushing against her slick folds. Natasha’s breath hitched, her whole body tightening in anticipation, her hands curling into fists as she pressed back against the door, trying to steady herself.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely audible, but dripping with need. “Please, I need it.”

You gave a low, satisfied chuckle, your eyes never leaving hers as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear. “I know you do, sweetheart,” you whispered, your voice a low rasp that sent shivers down her spine. You nudged the strap forward slightly, just enough to let the tip press into her, but not enough to give her the relief she craved. Natasha whimpered, her hips bucking toward you, desperate to take more.

“Shh,” you cooed, tightening your grip on the back of her thigh as you pressed her knee further against her chest, opening her up even more. “I’ll give you what you need, but I want to hear you beg for it.”

Natasha bit her lip, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and desire, but she couldn’t deny how badly she wanted it—needed it. “Please,” she whispered again, her voice trembling. “Please, fuck me… I need it so bad.”

Your smirk widened, and without another word, you slowly pushed forward, the thick head of your strap finally pressing into her tight, wet heat. Natasha gasped, her fingers digging into your shoulders as her body jolted at the sudden intrusion. She was tight, impossibly tight, her walls clenching around the silicone in a way that made it difficult to press any deeper, but the resistance only made you want it more.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered, her voice a high-pitched whine as you continued to push inside her, every inch stretching her further, forcing her to take more of you. “You’re—too big,” she panted, her head falling back against the door as her hips jerked forward, trying to accommodate the stretch.

“Shh,” you murmured against her neck, your lips grazing the sensitive skin as you gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze. “You can take it, baby. I know you can.”

Natasha whimpered again, her walls fluttering and clenching around the thick strap, trying to pull it deeper, even though it was almost too much. You could see how tight she was, almost feel how every ridge and fake vein on the strap dragged against her slick walls, sending shivers of pleasure through her body with every inch you pushed inside. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts, her chest heaving as she struggled to take more of you, her body trembling with the effort.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you groaned, your own voice strained with arousal as you finally bottomed out inside her, the base of the strap pressing against her soaked folds. Natasha cried out, her fingers digging into your shoulders as her hips jerked forward, trying to take you even deeper. She was stretched so wide around the strap, her walls clenching and pulsing around the intrusion, desperate for more.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your voice low and rough with desire as you glanced down at where your strap was buried deep inside her. The sight was sinful—Natasha’s leg pressed high against her chest, her pussy stretched around your thick strap, her slick juices coating the silicone and dripping down her thighs. “You look so fucking good taking all of this, baby.”

Natasha whimpered, her head tilting forward just enough to look down at the obscene sight between her legs. She could see the way her walls clenched around the strap, the way her slick arousal dripped down her thighs, and it made her body burn with embarrassment and desire. She was so full, so impossibly full, but she needed more—she needed you to move.

“Please,” she begged, her voice a high-pitched whine as her hips bucked forward, trying to get you to thrust inside her. “Please, I need you to move.”

Your smirk deepened, your other hand sliding up her thigh to grip her hip as you pulled back slightly, the thick strap dragging against her sensitive walls with agonising slowness. Natasha gasped, her whole body shuddering at the sensation, her head falling back against the door as her fingers dug into your shoulders.

“You’re so fucking tight,” you groaned, your voice low and breathless as you thrust back into her, the strap filling her once more. Natasha cried out, her body jolting at the sudden movement, her walls clenching around the silicone as you began to thrust into her with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Natasha’s breath came in short, ragged gasps, her body trembling as the pleasure built with every thrust. She was so full, so stretched, every inch of the strap dragging against her sensitive walls, making her burn with need. Her hips bucked against you, desperate for more, and you were all too happy to give it to her.

You quickened your pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the small room. Natasha’s cries grew louder, her hands clutching at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as her body shuddered with every thrust. Her walls clenched around the thick strap, trying to keep you buried deep inside her, but you kept up your relentless pace, fucking her harder, faster, until her whole body was trembling, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts.

“Fuck, you’re taking it so good,” you groaned, your voice rough with arousal as you watched the way her body shook, the way her pussy stretched around your strap.  Natasha’s leg was still raised high, your grip on her thigh unwavering, giving you that sinful view of her slick, swollen pussy stretched wide around the strap.

“Please,” Natasha whimpered, her voice a breathless moan as her body trembled beneath you. “Please, I’m so close.”

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear as you thrust into her even harder, the thick strap filling her completely, dragging against every sensitive inch of her walls. “Then come for me,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “I want to feel you come all over this strap.”

Natasha’s breath hitched, her body arching into you as the pleasure built to an unbearable level. And then, with one final, deep thrust, she shattered. A scream tore from her lips as her walls clenched tight around the strap, her whole body trembling as the orgasm ripped through her, leaving her gasping for breath.

The moment Natasha came undone, her body arched beautifully against the door, trembling violently as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her walls clenched so tightly around the strap that you could feel the pressure even through the silicone, and the sight of her falling apart in your hands only fueled the fire raging inside you.

You didn’t let up, not even for a second.

With each pull of your hips, the fake veins on the strap dragged against her sensitive inner walls, teasing the oversensitive flesh until Natasha was nothing but a writhing, gasping mess. Her eyes rolled back, half-lidded with pleasure, and her lips parted in a soft, helpless moan every time you thrust back into her. You could feel the way she pulsed around the strap, her orgasm still crashing through her, each thrust prolonging the pleasure, edging her closer to that line between unbearable ecstasy and delicious torment.

“God, you’re so good for me,” you groaned, your breath hitching as you felt the silicone slip inside her once more, filling her to the hilt. Natasha whimpered, her head falling back against the door, her nails biting into your shoulders. Her leg quivered in your grasp, and you couldn’t help but smirk at how utterly wrecked she was beneath you.

With a low growl of satisfaction, you pressed her thigh even higher, opening her up even more, pushing her to the very limit of her flexibility. The new angle had the thick strap sinking impossibly deep, and Natasha gasped, her entire body jolting at the sensation. As her free leg instinctively wrapped around your waist, anchoring herself to you, you felt the shift in her balance—she had nothing keeping her standing anymore, fully depending on you.

“Fuck!” Natasha cried out, her voice cracking as you pulled back and slammed forward again, the wet sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room. “I— I can’t— it’s too much!” You pressed her up against the door even more, using your strength to hold her in place as her body trembled under the onslaught of pleasure, the desperation in her voice only igniting your need for her further.

Her whimpers were nearly incoherent, her face flushed with exertion, but you could see the glint of desire still lingering in her eyes. She was teetering on the edge of overstimulation, but you knew she craved every second of it. She wanted to feel all of it—the stretch, the burn, the fullness. The way the strap forced her walls to accommodate the thickness, how each and every detail of your faux-cock dragged along her inner muscles, heightening her pleasure with each stroke.

"You take it so well, baby," you cooed, your voice dripping with confidence and dominance. "You’re doing so well. Look at you—fucking yourself on my strap like this."

Her breath hitched again at your words, a shiver of arousal rolling through her already trembling body. She was utterly at your mercy, and you loved it. You loved how she fought against the overwhelming pleasure, how she clenched so desperately around the strap, trying to draw it deeper into her slick heat. Her need for more, despite the delicious torment, was written all over her flushed face, her parted lips, her half-lidded eyes filled with lust and desperation.

You picked up your pace again, your hips snapping forward with a relentless rhythm that had Natasha gasping for air, her nails scraping down your back as she arched off the door, her body shuddering with each deep, powerful thrust.

“Oh god—oh fuck,” she whimpered, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. The leg wrapped around you trembled, barely able to hold on as her body shook under the intense pleasure you were giving her. Her thighs were slick with her arousal, her pussy dripping with how desperately wet she was, and you couldn’t help but groan at the sight of her coming undone again and again.

“Good girl,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm as you leaned in closer, pressing your lips to her ear. “Look at yourself. Look at how fucking good you look with my cock buried inside you.”

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze hazy as she glanced down between your bodies. The sight made her moan—a deep, breathless sound that sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through her. She could see it—the thick, veined strap disappearing into her, stretching her wide, her swollen folds glistening with her arousal. Every thrust made her slick pussy tighten around the silicone, and the sight of it only spurred you on.

You adjusted your grip on her thigh, pulling her leg even higher, pushing her closer to the door as you thrust harder, deeper, the wet sound of her slick arousal mixing with her breathless moans.

“Oh god—fuck!” Natasha cried out, her walls fluttering violently around the strap as you drove her toward yet another climax. “I— I’m gonna—fuck, please don’t stop!”

Her entire body tensed, her head falling back against the door as she teetered on the edge of another orgasm. Her walls clenched around the strap, trying to milk every inch of it as you thrust into her with a brutal, unforgiving force.

“That’s it,” you groaned, your voice low and commanding as you felt her walls begin to spasm around the strap, her breath hitching as her climax built. “Come for me again, Natasha.”

With one final, hard thrust, Natasha shattered, her entire body jerking as a scream ripped from her throat. Her walls clamped down around the thick silicone, pulsing wildly as her orgasm tore through her, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her. She was trembling, gasping for air as her body convulsed beneath you, her slick juices dripping down her thighs, soaking both of you.

You kept thrusting into her, slow and deep, prolonging her pleasure as you rode out her orgasm with her. Natasha’s body jerked with each thrust, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts as her hands clung to your shoulders, trying to ground herself in the overwhelming sensation.

When her trembling finally began to subside, you slowed your pace, easing her leg down from where it had been pressed against her chest, her body slumping against you in exhaustion. Her head fell against your shoulder, her breath hot and ragged against your skin as you gently pulled out of her, the slick strap glistening with her release.

As Natasha’s trembling body sagged against you, her breath still coming in ragged bursts, you could feel the way her grip on your shoulders loosened and her leg let go of your waist. The aftermath of her climax left her shaky, her muscles quivering from the overwhelming pleasure you’d just wrung from her body. But even in her exhausted state, you could sense her lingering need. It simmered beneath her flushed skin, a wantonness that never quite faded, even when she was wrecked like this.

Without a word, Natasha sank down, her legs buckling as she willingly dropped to her knees. The sight alone was enough to send a fresh surge of heat coursing through you—Natasha, her thighs glistening with her release, her hair dishevelled, and her lips parted as she knelt between your legs. Her eyes, half-lidded and dark with desire, flickered up to meet yours, a silent plea for permission lingering in her gaze.

Your hand instinctively found its way to her cheek, fingers brushing across the warm skin as you gently tilted her face up. Her lips ghosted over your knuckles, her tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin before she shifted her focus downward. Her gaze dropped to the strap still glistening between your legs, slick with her arousal, and you could see the hunger spark in her eyes.

“Natasha…” you whispered, your voice thick with a mixture of affection and desire.

But she didn’t need any further encouragement. Her hands, still trembling slightly, reached for the base of the strap, steadying it as she licked her lips. The tip was soaked in her juices, glistening under the soft light, and Natasha stared at it for a moment, almost mesmerised by the evidence of her own pleasure. Then, with a soft moan, she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the head of the strap, sucking it into her mouth with slow, deliberate movements.

You groaned softly, your hand moving to rest on the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as you watched her work. Natasha’s tongue swirled around the head of the strap, tasting herself on the silicone, her mouth moving in languid strokes as she took more of it into her mouth. Her release coated her lips, shining as she sucked the slickness off, moaning low in her throat as she worked to clean the strap.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her focus entirely on the task at hand as she bobbed her head, her lips stretching around the girth. You could feel the pressure of her movements even through the toy, the way she sucked and licked with such dedication. It was intoxicating—the sight of her on her knees, her mouth filled again with your strap, the faint, almost sinful sound of her moans vibrating against the silicone as she sucked her own release off of it.

“My good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and full of praise. “Look at you…so eager to clean up after yourself.”

Natasha whimpered in response, the sound muffled as her mouth slid down further on the strap, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder. Her hands came up to cradle the base, stroking it gently as her tongue flicked over the veined surface, cleaning every ridge, every dip, savouring the taste of herself.

You could feel her submission in every movement, the way she surrendered completely to this moment. Her mouth moved with such deliberate care, as if this was another way of showing her devotion, her gratitude for the pleasure you’d given her. The way she worshipped the strap was almost reverent, her tongue lapping up every drop of her arousal, cleaning it with slow, sensual strokes.

“Does it taste good?” you asked softly, your fingers tightening slightly in her hair.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze locking with yours as she pulled back just enough to speak, her lips still wrapped around the head of the strap.

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly, her voice hoarse with lust. “So good…”

And with that, she took the strap deeper, moaning as her mouth stretched again to accommodate it. The sight was almost too much—her lips wrapped around the thick girth, her tongue working tirelessly to clean it, her eyes dark and hooded with lust as she looked up at you, completely at your mercy.

You couldn’t resist. With a low growl, you tightened your grip on her hair and gently guided her head forward, watching as more of the strap disappeared into her mouth. Natasha didn’t hesitate, didn’t resist. She eagerly followed your lead, sinking down on the strap with a soft, muffled moan as she took it deeper, her tongue swirling around the silicone as she sucked harder.

The wet, obscene sounds of her mouth working the strap echoed in the room, mingling with her soft whimpers of pleasure. Each time she pulled back, her lips glistened with slickness, her saliva mixing with the remnants of her release as she diligently cleaned the strap. The sight, the sounds, the intoxicating feel of her submission—it was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but groan in response. It felt so different from just twenty minutes ago, the air now thick with an emotional tension that left both you and her craving more.

“Such a good girl…” you murmured, your voice thick with desire. “You love this, don’t you? Love tasting yourself on my cock like this?”

Natasha moaned again, her eyes rolling back slightly as she nodded, her mouth still full of the strap. Her fingers tightened around the base, her tongue swirling with renewed intensity as she sucked harder, her moans vibrating against the silicone in a way that had your own breath hitching in your throat.

You tugged her hair gently, pulling her back just enough to see her flushed, eager face, her lips even more swollen and slick from her efforts. She looked up at you, her eyes filled with lust and devotion, and the sight of her—completely wrecked, completely at your mercy—made your heart race.

“Finish it, once more,” you whispered, your voice soft but commanding. “Clean it all up, baby.”

Natasha’s breath hitched, and with one last, eager moan, she sank down again, taking the strap as deep as she could, her lips stretched tight around the girth. Her tongue worked tirelessly, lapping up the last remnants of her release, her fingers stroking the base as she cleaned every inch of the strap with slow, deliberate care.

By the time she finally pulled back, the strap was glistening with nothing but her saliva. She looked up at you, her eyes hazy with pleasure, her mouth hanging open slightly as she panted for oxygen.

Natasha’s chest heaved, her lips still glistening as she knelt before you, a blend of exhaustion and determination in her eyes. Her body was clearly spent, trembling from the intensity of everything that had just unfolded, yet even in her weary state, a flicker of something more shone through. That relentless desire, the insatiable need to please you, to reciprocate the pleasure you had so generously given her, burned bright within her. It was as if the connection between you two transcended the physical, igniting a fire that she couldn't ignore.

With a shaky breath, Natasha reached for the harness still strapped to your hips. Her fingers, though trembling from exhaustion, worked quickly to undo the buckles, each one coming undone with a soft click. You could feel her need—this wasn’t just about giving; it was about showing you that she was still capable, that she could offer you more. Her eyes met yours briefly, the unspoken plea for permission lingering in their depths before she yanked the harness off completely.

Without a word, she tossed it behind you, the strap landing on the floor with a dull thud, completely forgotten. What mattered now was you—your pleasure, your release.

“Natasha, you don’t have to…” you started to say, but your words were cut short as she leaned forward, her hands gripping your thighs with surprising strength, anchoring you in place.

“I want to,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but resolute. “I need to.”

Before you could protest further, Natasha dove in, her mouth finding you with an eagerness that made your breath hitch. Her lips latched onto your sensitive folds, tongue immediately parting you as she licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your centre, savouring every inch of your heat. A low moan escaped your lips, and as soon as Natasha heard that first sound of pleasure, it was like a spark ignited within her.

She dove in deeper, her tongue working you with relentless precision, swirling and flicking against your most sensitive spots, teasing and tasting in a way that had your head thudding against the door in front of you. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you spread open for her as she devoured you like she couldn’t get enough. Each stroke of her tongue, each gentle nip of her lips, sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, and it didn’t take long before you were moaning openly, your hand tangling in her messy hair as you rocked your hips against her mouth.

“Fuck, Natasha…” you gasped, your voice thick with lust and awe. “Just like that…”

Your praise only fueled her further. Every moan, every word of encouragement that slipped past your lips made her work harder, her tongue moving faster, her lips sucking greedily at your clit. She was completely lost in it, lost in the way you responded to her touch, in the way your body trembled beneath her mouth. It was like she couldn’t get enough of your taste, couldn’t get enough of the sounds you made—the way you were falling apart for her.

And as you moaned her name again, louder this time, Natasha whimpered softly against you, her hips involuntarily bucking as if she could feel every ounce of pleasure you were experiencing. The connection between the two of you was palpable, an unspoken bond that seemed to tether your bodies together, each of your reactions sending waves of sensation through both of you.

She could hear the way your breath hitched, feel the way your thighs clenched around her head, and it drove her wild. Your pleasure was her pleasure, your release was her reward. Natasha’s own arousal was building again, the slickness between her thighs only intensifying as she tasted you, her own body responding to the rhythm of your moans, the raw, unfiltered sounds of your ecstasy.

“Oh fuck–Natasha…” Your breath was ragged, your body on the edge, teetering precariously close to that release she was so desperate to give you.

With a final flick of her tongue and a deep, sucking pull at your clit, you came undone. The orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, pulling you under in a flood of overwhelming pleasure. Your hands clenched in her hair as your back arched off, your thighs squeezing her head tight as you cried out, your voice echoing through the room in breathless, blissful moans.

Natasha didn’t stop. Even as you writhed above her, she kept her mouth on you, lapping up every drop of your release, savouring every moan, every tremor of your body as you rode out your orgasm. And as you came, something shifted in her—something broke free inside her.

She felt it—the sudden, uncontrollable surge of pleasure that washed over her as your moans hit their peak. It was the mere sight of you, the way you fell apart for her, the way your body shook with pleasure, the way you moaned her name like she was the only thing that mattered that set it off.

Her own release hit her like a lightning strike, her body going rigid as her climax overtook her without warning. Natasha gasped, her mouth still pressed against you as she came, the shock of her own orgasm freezing her in place. The pleasure ripped through her, stealing her breath, her thighs quivering uncontrollably as she came just from the sight of you.

She pulled back from you slightly, her lips still wet with your release, her eyes wide with disbelief as her body shook with the aftershocks of her own unexpected orgasm. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her mind reeling from what had just happened. You were both wrapped in the warmth of the moment when suddenly, your phone rang loudly in the silence.

You reached for it, reluctantly pulling away from Natasha’s gaze. “Yes, I’ll be there in ten minutes, Pepper,” you replied, your voice a mix of disappointment and urgency.

Natasha smiled softly at you, a bittersweet feeling bubbling up inside her as she leaned into your touch, your hand gently stroking her cheek. There was a warmth in the gesture that made her heart flutter, an affirmation of the bond that had just blossomed between you two. She felt seen, cherished, even amidst the whirlwind of everything that had just transpired.

“Tell him to prepare some dessert,” you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips. “I haven’t had the chance to have mine here. Hopefully next time I will, the menu looks promising.”

Natasha’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson as she caught the glimmer of mischief in your eyes. You could see her heart racing, a delightful mix of embarrassment and exhilaration washing over her. The intimate nature of your exchange lingered in the air, and the thought of your teasing words sent a rush of warmth through her.

“Next time,” she echoed softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as the realisation settled in that you would be back for her.

With a final glance at her, you turned to leave, a flutter of anticipation sparking between you two. As you made your way towards the door, Natasha’s eyes followed you, filled with longing and excitement for what lay ahead. And as you stepped outside, you left behind the strap, a tangible reminder of your connection, a symbol of what you had shared.

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving Natasha alone in the room, her heart racing as she thought about everything that had just happened. She picked up the strap, feeling its weight in her hands, and a wicked smile spread across her lips.

She couldn’t wait for your return. She was already crafting ideas for the next time you’d come back, each thought fueling her desire for you even more. Because this was only the beginning, and she was ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing that you would both find your way back to each other, intertwined by the widow’s lace.

[flightlessangelwings]

Since we’re in Latino heritage month now I want to bring something up again that’s worth talking about when it comes to reader insert fic:

Can we as writers please be aware that latine people are present in fandom and not make the assumption that the reader does not speak Spanish?

Especially when writing for Latino characters, latine people look to them for representation and it feels very exclusionary to assume the reader doesn’t know Spanish. Latine representation is hugely important for us. Actors like Pedro Pascal, Oscar Isaac, Diego Luna, Gabriel Luna, and more are so important for that representation and they all understand that importance. With the lack of latine and poc characters, it’s always very meaningful when we are represented. And it’s very hurtful that people can assume that their audience is only white.

Some ways to work around and be inclusive: You could use italics to indicate Spanish, say “you didn’t hear” instead of “you didn’t understand” so that way it’s more open to interpretation, provide an immediate translation in or out of the context and let readers decide for themselves if they understood it or not. Very simple things make a huge difference in inclusivity and don’t change your story at all!

And another note too: please be respectful when writing Latino characters and actively work to avoid getting into fetishization territory. Be aware of harmful tropes and stereotypes that exist while writing Latino characters. I.e. the Latin lover trope, the whole papi thing, “spicy Latino” etc. The characters aren’t real but the impact it can have does affect real people and it can make latine people uncomfortable to see it in fic.

Remember that inclusivity is a kindness and people of all walks of life read fics to let’s work to make everyone feel welcome and loved and seen in our reader insert fic!

[mira-says]

Make it Special

Azriel x Reader

Read on AO3

Summary: When you met Azriel and the bond snapped in place, you'd both agreed that you wanted to wait for your mating ceremony to be intimate, to make it special. But three years of cancelled plans, bad weather, obnoxious High Lords and even more obnoxious Illyrians had you and Azriel deeply questioning your earlier agreement to wait

Warnings: 18+, fluff, smut, tiniest touch of angst

Word count: 3.4k (how did that happen)

A/N: Hi, this is my first fic for acotar and my first time writing smut 🥰 I would love comments, critiques, and suggestions! Also, I use mating ceremony/wedding language interchangeably. Ok, enjoy!!

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Azriel had to wonder if he'd done something to offend the Mother. He supposed it was possible you had done something instead, but he couldn't imagine what. Surely of the two of you, he was the more likely culprit.

When you met three years ago, and the bond snapped in place, you'd both agreed that you wanted to wait for your mating ceremony to be intimate, to make it special. You had both been hurt by previous lovers and you suggested that the security of vows, spoken to each other and before your friends and family, would give you both the confidence to take those next steps.

And that had been fine, only a couple months into your relationship. And maybe you had been rushing into the ceremony, both of you still scared to lose the other.

But three years of cancelled plans, bad weather, obnoxious High Lords and even more obnoxious Illyrians had you and Azriel deeply questioning your earlier agreement to wait.

The first time you had planned your mating ceremony, it was to be in the beautiful temple on the Sidra a few weeks before the Winter Solstice. That winter had churned out more blizzards than Velaris had ever seen, causing damage to the roads and leading to the head priestess cancelling the ceremony so the temple could house those stranded by the ice and snow.

A disappointment, but understandable.

The second time was over a year later in the early summer. No blizzards, not even a drop of rain fell on your wedding day. Just Azriel diving to the townhouse from the House of Wind where he'd been getting ready as he received a report that Beron was invading the Spring Court.

You'd always hated the High Lord of Autumn, but never more so than when he'd ruined your wedding. It took six months of fighting and endless, fruitless negotiations before Beron agreed to pull his forces back.

There were a couple more cancelled dates after everyone had settled, either Azriel was needed for a mission or you were called to another court for trade negotiations. Each time you set a new date, you and Azriel would laugh and wonder how this one would be ruined.

By this fifth or so time, Azriel had had enough laughing. The date was set for early autumn. The location was the River House, despite Cassian's whines that you were copying him and Nesta. Azriel offered that Cassian pay a booking fee for another location, hope it wouldn't be cancelled and that the cancellation fee wasn't more expensive than the venue was worth, or get over it. Cassian got over it.

Over the years, you and Azriel broke more and more rules of your earlier agreement. First, you agreed you could watch the other bring themselves pleasure. Then touching was allowed. Then oral. Then it was everything short of Azriel actually putting his cock in you. Several times, you had been close to throwing out the agreement entirely and just fucking, but something always stopped you. You wanted your first time with your mate to be special, not something that just happened because you were horny or desperate.

One of these times, a week before your wedding that you still would not let yourself dare to hope would actually happen, Azriel's head was buried between your legs, bringing you the kind of pleasure only he could provide. He brought you to climax over and over before you finally pushed him off, exhausted. He smirked at you with purely male satisfaction before kissing up your body, latching on to your neck.

"Love," he whispered. "I want to fuck you so badly."

You moaned softly at his words and the feeling of his lips on your skin. "I know, just another week."

He stilled for a moment before pulling the two of you out of bed.

"Az?" He dressed you quickly in a robe and threw pants on before taking your hand, shadows encasing both of you.

The shadows cleared and you blinked quickly, realizing you were outside of Rhys' office in the town house.

"Azriel, what are you doing?"

He ignored you, throwing open the door to Rhys' office. You heard a squeak from inside and looked around Azriel to see your High Lord and Lady in as nearly a compromising position as you had been a moment ago.

Rhys was pulling Feyre's shirt back around her chest. "What the fuck, Az?"

"I need you to know and understand something." Azriel said, dutifully keeping his eyes locked with Rhys'.

Rhys huffed incredulously. "And that is?"

"That is that my mate and I are getting married next week, and I don't give a fuck who needs help or who starts a fight or anything. I don't care if Devlon burns Illyria to the ground. I don't care if the fucking king of Hybern comes back from the dead and launches a fucking ball of fire at Velaris, we are getting married next week."

For a moment, you, Feyre and Rhys could only gape at him. Feyre broke first, trying and failing to conceal her laughter. "You got it, Az. Next week, no matter what."

Azriel nodded, content enough with her answer. You mouthed I'm so sorry at her and Rhys as he pulled you back out of the office.

Rhys couldn't resist. "Wound a little tight, brother?" Azriel just raised his middle finger in response and his shadows carried you both back to the House of Wind.

The morning of the ceremony was a blur.

Nuala and Cerridwen helped you bathe, eat, and dress before you were met with the full force of the Archeron sisters and Mor, ready to exert all of their creative energy on your wedding day look. Mor wove you hair into an intricate updo with Elaine helping her place pins and little white flowers. Feyre painted your face with little blue accents around your eyes that you knew would match Azriel's siphons. Finally, Nesta helped you into your dress, making sure you could move and breathe and dance as you wished.

You kept waiting for some announcement, some interruption that would cancel the ceremony yet again, but it never came.

The five of you stood crowded around a full length mirror, taking in the final look. You gazed at your reflection and felt your heart twist. "Is this really happening?" You asked softly.

Feyre took your hand gently. "It is. I promise."

They lead you to the front door of the river house before scurrying out to their seats in the garden. You caught a glimpse of the sky as they rushed out. How was it already the evening?

The front doors were pulled open again, with intention this time. You stepped over the threshold.

Moments later, it seemed, you were in front of Azriel at the altar. You vaguely remembered walking down the aisle, passing all your sniffling friends with huge smiles on their faces and sweet music playing around you, but from the moment you met Azriel's eyes, he was all you could see. Your mate.

"Y/n," he whispered as you stood across from him. He shadows danced over his shoulders. He opened his mouth to say more but found he couldn't speak. Tears glistened in his eyes.

You smiled up at him, taking his hands as the priestess had you speak your vows. You'd baked a lemon muffin for him to seal your bond. It was simple, but it was what you'd been not-so-secretly eating in a coat closet at one of Helion's ridiculous parties when Azriel had stumbled upon you, seeking solitude as well.

His eyes lit up in recognition as you handed him the muffin, three years after that day, and he looked you in the eyes as he took a bite.

"In the presence of all your friends and family, I declare you mated before the Mother," the priestess finished. Azriel held your cheek and kissed you deeply. The whoops and cheers from your friends made you smile against his lips. Finally.

A boom startled you from the kiss and you looked up to see red in the sky. You tensed, wondering if the king of Hybern had indeed come back from the dead and launched a fucking ball of fire at Velaris, but more booms sounded and beautiful, colorful fireworks lit up the night sky.

The reception Rhys and Feyre had planned was almost as ridiculous as Helion's party, but you loved every minute, marveling at the deep hum of your bond as you and Azriel danced.

Even hours later when the music and dancing had finished, you could feel that steady thrum of energy in your body. The way Azriel's eyes sparkled in the low lightning told you he felt it, too. Nesta had planned the last part of your reception, where your family gathered before a carriage to see the two of you off. As you stepped on the walkway, Azriel's hand clutched tightly in your own, Rhys waved his hand and everyone suddenly held a little ball of daylight. You paused in wonder at the sight.

"Now!" Nesta yelled and threw her little ball directly at your chest. It hit you softly and exploded into little sparkles of faelight that shimmered softly against your skin. You looked back to her in surprise and saw the rest of the Inner Circle aiming to toss their faelights at you and Azriel.

Shrieking in delight, you and Azriel ran through the bursting lights to the carriage. Azriel had somehow dodged all of them until you saw Cassian land a direct hit to his nose. Azriel stopped and gave him a glare that would have had lesser males pissing themselves in fear, but Cass only tipped back his head and laughed, elbowing Nesta and pointing at Azriel's unamused, now glowing, face.

Azriel opened the carriage door for you and helped you into the plush space. The two of you waved from the window as the carriage pulled away, the laughter and well-wishes of your friends echoing behind you. You felt your skin heat in anticipation at what was to come. Finally, you could have each other fully, the way you'd been dreaming of. You wouldn't let anything stand in the way.

Azriel waited until the carriage had gone a couple blocks before taking your hand and whisking the two of you away with his shadows.

Directly into a raging thunderstorm.

The little cottage you planned to stay in for your honeymoon, or frenzy as Rhys loved to call it, was on a high cliff above the ocean. It was a stunning view when it was covered in torrential rain.

Azriel had taken you to the front steps of the cottage. He could only blink at you as you were both soaked immediately with rain. You couldn't help but laugh at his disbelieving expression. He shook his head, giving you a half smile, and went to unlock the front door.

The key didn't fit. Azriel shook the handle to no avail and lightly punched the door in defeat.

Grinning a little at your particular string of bad luck, you stepped up to his side, but your smile fell away at the sudden despair on his face.

"Azriel-"

"I'm sorry," he choked out. "Fuck, this was supposed to be perfect. I wanted to make it special for you. We can finally-" He cut himself off, shaking his head.

You touched his arm comfortingly. Before you could speak his shadows enveloped you, carrying you both a few feet through the front door and into the cottage.

Not sparing a glance around the interior, stilling him as he roughly kicked off his shoes, you reached up to cup Azriel's face in your hands, guiding him to look down into your eyes.

"My love," you said. "It doesn't have to be perfect."

"I know, but-" You brushed your thumb over his lips, shushing him.

"Our wedding was perfect. Truly, I couldn't have asked for anything more. And this, sex, marriage, our new life... It's special because I'm with you. My mate, who I adore." You reached up to kiss him lightly. His eyes softened. "Every moment with you is special."

His shadows, which had been twitching nervously, seemed to calm as he placed his hands over your own and brought them to his lips, kissing your fingertips. "I love you so much."

You smiled up at him, feeling the anticipation that had been building all night bubble up. Azriel rested your hands on his shoulders gripping your hips in his own, pressing you closer to him. You both cringed for a moment, feeling your sopping clothes press against your skin.

Azriel's smile turned mischievous. "Let's go take these off."

You pulled away from him, turning and dashing up the narrow set of stairs that you assumed would lead to a bedroom. You paused briefly at the three doors down the hall, trying to guess which would have a bed inside, but Azriel caught up to you, sweeping you into his arms and pulling you in for a heated kiss, your back against the wall.

His hands drifted over the wet fabric of your wedding dress, the coolness of the fabric against the heat of his skin causing you to gasp. He took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, pushing you more firmly against the wall as he explored your body.

His lips moved to your jaw. "Az..." You moaned, breathless. "Bed."

Azriel sucked on a spot along your jaw that sent sparks flowing through you. "Hm, and what if I want to take you right here?"

You couldn't stop the heat rising to your cheeks at the idea. "Next time." You promised.

He stepped back, grinning. "I do like the sound of that."

He opened the second door in the hallway, backing into a dark bedroom. You vaguely noted the dark wooden furniture with deep blue accepts, but your eyes stayed trained on Azriel's as they seemed to glow brighter in the moonlit room.

You followed him slowly, feeling a sudden touch of shyness though he had seen you plenty of times over the last three years.

He met you just inside the door, kissing you softly. You felt his hands in your hair, gently undoing the intricate style Mor had spent hours on this morning. You hummed as your hair fell back around your face in soft curls.

"You are so beautiful." He breathed, reaching around your back to unlace the corset of your dress. You took the opportunity to slide his jacket from his shoulders, careful to not catch it on his wings, and unbutton his crisp white shirt. You felt your dress fall to your feet, and Azriel helped you carefully step out of it.

You had a momentary thought of hanging it up to dry somewhere but your brain emptied at the look in Azriel's eyes. His pupils were wide and hungry as he took in your body in only lacy white lingerie. His hands gently skimmed over your sides, causing you to shiver. He gripped your hips tightly and dropped to his knees before you, eyes fixated on the little jewels woven into the lace of your panties.

"Please don't rip them." You regained your voice in time to ask.

Azriel smirked up at you. "Would I do that?"

"Yes. Plenty of times--"

Your words turned into a moan as Azriel leaned in to lick a broad stroke up the length of your covered heat before gently pulling the garment down your legs with his fingers brushing your skin.

He helped you step out of them, giving you a pointed look as he folded them and placed them on the floor by your discarded dress. He took off your heels next and placed them down just as reverently as he had your underwear.

Starting at your calf, he began to press kisses up the length of your leg. You shivered as he reached your thigh, his eyes darting between yours and your core. His lips passed it by entirely, though, instead latching on to the skin on your hip and sucking a deep mark.

You took the time to admire how his hair, still dripping with rain, was starting to curl around his ears. You reached down to card your fingers through them gently, and he paused his kissing to stand up to his full height.

You pushed his shirt the rest of the way off around his wings and skimmed your hands over the muscles on his chest, feeling their power and getting a sudden rush at the thought that with you, he would only ever use them for your pleasure.

Azriel seemed to read your mind, pulling you closer so you head rested against his heart. He reached behind you and unlaced your bra, both of you sighing at the feeling of your breasts pressed against his skin as he tossed it to the floor.

When you pulled away to look back in his eyes, the heat growing inside you felt unbearable. You crashed your lips against his and he clumsily stepped back until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. You fumbled with his pants for a moment until he took them and his underwear off in one fluid motion, pulled you on to the bed, and climbed over you to reclaim your lips.

You felt like you were on fire and Azriel was kindling, making you burn hotter and hotter as his hands and skin pressed you deeper into the sheets.

His fingers teased around your clit and you would have screamed had his tongue not been thoroughly occupying your mouth.

When they prodded at your entrance, you had to break away from the kiss. "Azriel, please," you gasped.

"I know," he murmured. "I'll take care of you, I promise."

He kissed you again as his fingers entered you, stretching and curling in a way that had you moaning against his lips.

He was thorough, wanting you to feel no pain when he finally put his cock in you. It wasn't your first time having sex, but he was confident he was the biggest male you'd ever been with.

His fingers continued their delicious torture until you were gasping, "Az--I--I'm close!"

He stopped his movements and pulled out his fingers gently, smirking as you whined at the sudden emptiness. "The first time you're going to come tonight will be on my cock," he said, his voice deep with desire.

"Fucking, please, hurry up then!"

"No way, love, I'll take as long as I like."

Apparently, he didn't like to take long at all because as soon as he finished speaking, he'd lined up the head of his cock with your entrance, teasing momentarily before pushing in a little.

Tears fell from your eyes at the lovely stretch, and you could tell from the way Azriel's arms tensed around you that he was overcome with pleasure as well.

He pushed in a little more, so slowly and gently you could have cried again, and maybe you did. It felt like years passed as the two of you connected deeper and deeper until finally he was seated fully inside you, your legs pulled around his waist and his hips flush against yours.

He paused so you could adjust, but you didn't need to, he'd been so gentle and fit so perfectly. The bond between you felt alive with energy and love.

The way he looked into your eyes had the fire within you cooling for a moment as your mind caught up with where you were. This was your mate, looking down at you like you were the most precious jewel he'd ever seen. You cupped his cheek and he leaned into your touch.

The first thrust of his hips had the fire back in full force, your eyes rolling upward with the feeling. Again, he moved slowly, but with power and intention, making you feel every inch of him slide along your walls and brush against a spot that had you digging your nails into his shoulders.

Azriel made love to you, and you to him. He was whispering in your ear as he moved, but you couldn't decipher what he was saying above the pleasure that seemed to roar throughout your body.

The fire inside was burning hotter and hotter with every thrust of his hips, every breath from his lips on your ear, every flick of the finger he brought down to your clit.

You came with a gasp of his name, your vision going white and feeling light spark through your veins. He came with a shout a moment later, releasing himself deep inside you.

You held each other tightly as you came down from your highs, breathing heavily. Azriel let his weight fall on you and you savored the feeling of him above you, like a warm blanket. You felt his lips place lazy, soft kisses on your neck where he had buried his head.

"Az," you said quietly after a minute.

"Hmm?"

"That was pretty special."

He laughed, "Yeah? Worth three years of waiting?"

"I think so," you tugged on his hair so he would turn to look at you. "But we should do it again, just to be sure."

He smiled and flipped you so you were resting on his chest. He ran his fingers through your hair softly, hazel eyes glowing as he studied your face. "Every moment is special with you."

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Thank you for reading 🥰

[hitomisuzuya]

this is gonna b a very self indulgent req.. bear with me here, also happy birthday!! ☺️

i was thinking like a mix of rough but soft dom scara i love ur soft dom scara fics <3 with breeding and creampie kink pls, but also v fluffy aftercare at the end. like lots of kisses and hugs, a lot of smut fics i like never rly have it written, and the aftercare oneshot/drabble u did w scara i rly liked

i hope this isnt too much 😭 im not that picky when it comes to fics so i dont rly ever write reqs but i love ur work so i took the chance ! have a good bday !!!!

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Fingering. Breeding kink. Creampie. Degradation. Soft/rough Dom! Scaramouche. Aftercare at the end❤️

For the rest of my requests with Happy Birthday in them, I am banking those birthday wishes away for next year 👉👈 I have been meaning to write more aftercare🥺

"That's right, you just keep looking at me just like that," Scaramouche's hand caressed your cheek. The look of worship of in your eyes as you turned your cheek into his hand sent an erotic thrill straight to his hard cock. You shivered as the comforting blanket of his dominance washed over you.

Scaramouche loves to bask in your worship for him, and you enjoyed basking in his dominance.

He brushed some hair out of your eyes, skimming his thumb under your eye before caressing his way down your body. You let out a soft moan, moving your body into his touches. You were craving any little touch he would provide you.

Wanting to see you curl into his touch again, his hand travelled further down your body. His caress on your stomach reminded him of the true goal. The reason why his cock was straining hard to be stuffed to the hilt inside you: to breed you.

Breed you so thoroughly that would inevitably drip from your hole. A pocket of cum would lead to a belly swollen with something else. He got harder just thinking about it.

Growing impatient, Scaramouche possessively caressed your stomach before moving down between your legs. His finger found your clit, pulling a soft gasp of pleasure from you as his finger wagged and circled the sensitive nub.

He gathered the slick rapidly pooling onto your pussy onto his index finger. His cock pulsed harder seeing you eagerly grind your hips into his finger. "So wet it's pathetic," He taunted, pushing his finger inside.

His back handed taunt made your walls squeeze on his finger. Smirking, he pumped it in and out of you a few times, his eyes glued to the way your juices made his finger glossy. "You are suffocating my finger, kitten," He said, swallowing a moan as he pushed in a second finger.

You gasped in pleasure as he scissored your walls apart. Your hand went to his wrist, squeezing it so he would push his fingers deeper inside of you. You struggled to form words feeling his fingers curl into your sweet spot.

"Shh, it's okay, kitten," Scaramouche cooed almost condescendingly, increasing the pace of his fingers. "I need to stretch you out so I can fill you to the brim," He drank in the way you struggled not to shake from the jolts of pleasure as his palm rubbed over your clit.

Your hand tightened on his wrist as he angled his fingers up to nudge against your sweet spot, making stars burst behind your eyes. Your toes curled as you bucked your hips up into his thrusts. He chuckled when you could barely form syllables.

"Already cock drunk and my cock isn't even inside you yet," He added a third finger, making you writhe as his fingers rubbed on a sensitive spot. "Start singing, slut. Tell me how much you want to be stretched and filled," He hissed firmly, groaning as your walls clutched tighter.

"Please, please," His fingers curling extra into your sweet spot shocked you into speaking. "Cum inside and breed me please," You pleaded around strained moans, earn you a faster pace that made his fingers squelch in and out of your sopping cunt.

"Say pretty please," Scaramouche had this incredible ability to purr commands. He pulled your hair, gently yanking your head back. Your cheeks flushed with further adoration as you sat up, your legs shaking as you bucked into his fingers.

You reached around to put your hand on the back of his head. "Pretty please cum inside of me," You ran your fingers through his hair, practically making him purr softly. His cock strained harder as you delivered a few submissive kitten licks to his mouth.

Pulling his fingers from your pussy, he roughly pushed you back down on the bed. His cock needed to buried inside of you now. He hastily drapped one of your legs over his shoulder, bending your knee towards your chest, giving him better leverage to fuck his cock to the hilt inside of you.

He groaned as he pushed his cock inside, shuddering in pleasure as it sank into your tight warmth. "Fucking hell, get pregnant," He bottomed out with a determined snap of his hips.

The louder moans tearing from your throat as he picked up a pace that was a unique blend of gentle but dominant made his cock throb harder inside of you. "Cry for me," He moaned, his hand hovering over your throat for a moment before dipping down to rub your clit. "Moan and squirm while I breed you, whore."

Scaramouche's mouth watered seeing the buldge poking up on your stomach. Your body twitched in pleasure as his cock head hit into your sweet spot. The building intensity of your orgasm stacked with each thrust, making your head spin and tears well into your eyes.

"Please, please, please," You babbled, your fingernails scratching at his skin as you struggled to anchor yourself on him somehow, your breasts bouncing from his thrusts. His fingers pinching and rubbing over your clit snapped the coil of your orgasm.

He grit his teeth as your pussy clenched around his cock, begging to milk him empty inside of you like he promised to do. Satisfied with reducing you to the state he'd demanded of you, his thumb brushed a few tears away from your eyes. His thrusts turned sloppy for a few beats, lost in the feeling of your cum flooding his cock.

Scaramouche leaned down, capturing your lips in a passionate, open mouthed kiss. He pushed his tongue the into your mouth to muffle his moans. "Such a good girl," His teeth bit gently at your lips, "taking my cock so well."

You mewled in such sweet bliss into his mouth as his cock ribboned cum inside of you. His thrusts were slow and deliberate, intent on fucking his cum deep inside of you. It was a long few moments before his hips slowed to a stop, his eyes feasting on his cum trickling from your hole.

"Thank you," He murmured, burying his face into your neck as he pulled out "for letting me be so rough with you," He nuzzled against your neck. You put a hand on the back of his head, stroking your fingers through his hair.

You smiled, your body limp and exhausted hearing him purr softly in your ear. "Who knows, maybe I will get pregnant," You swore you thought you heard him purr a little louder.

"Don't you move," He said as he sat up. You watched him get out of bed, and pull some sweat pants on. "Let's run you a warm bath, and treat you to a massage while we soak," He disappeared into the bathroom.

He emerged a few minutes later, the water running in the tub with pleasant scents following him out. He scooped you bridal style off the bed and carried you to the bathroom.

You sighed, feeling yourself melt as he put you down into the water. He quickly shed his sweats and got in behind you. He set his beautiful fingers to work on your sore muscles. His line of thinking was that more relaxed you were after being bred, the better the chances of the satisfying goal. His hand dipped into the water to caress your stomach.

[harbingersglory]

i know i said more dom!reader blah blah blah sorry arlecchino rotted my brain severely. tmasc bunny!arle giving me severe brain damage /pos

(he/him prns used for arle)

at a glance, the big ears and small puffball of a tail might temporarily make you think Arlecchino is far sweeter then he actually is. how could anyone who looked so cute be anything but, right?

but you know better. you serve under Lord Arlecchino - literally. tucked under his desk while he makes you slobber and choke all over his strap. you barely get to breathe with his hand fisted in your hair, keeping you right where he wants you. if you've been particularly exemplary on your little missions, he might even let you sit on his lap. though whether thats worse or not is debatable, making you cockwarm him as he works. and you'd better keep quiet, too. he's not above muzzling you or just straight up shoving his fingers into your mouth to silence you while you squirm on his lap.

maybe if you last until he's done he'll fuck you properly. bend you over his desk and pound your pretty little holes until you're unable to stand. he'll still make you clean up his strap afterwards, of course.

it's when he's in a bad mood that he really gets going. sheds the act of polite, dignified little bunny. no, he's here to break you in and use you like the little toy you are. and you'll let him, won't you? drooling all over his strap when he fucks your throat raw, drags you into the nearest room the moment he sees you to watch your eyes roll back into your head as his cock stretches you out..

he's just as much of a mess as you are when he's this pent up, though. he doesn't bother keeping up appearances when he just has some pent up stress to get out. if you could even think straight you'd notice his puffball of a tail wagging and his ears drooping as he ruts into you, panting and grunting against your ear when you cum around his strap for the tenth time. you could almost swear you heard him whimper, but you'll be in a world of punishment if you mention it the next day (he absolutely did).

[monstersflashlight]

Okay, hear me out: Oviposition with your insect-morph or alien partner that can go either to a cnc/dubcon play space if you want, but like...reader slowly becomes addicted to being a broodmother. Bonus points if reader is a fembunny with strong breeding instinct? :3

A/N: Hi there! This was hella fun to write, I though it would make more sense not to make reader a bunny hybrid but hope this meets all your expectations, I personally think turned out pretty good. (Also want to recommend this Stardew Valley fic because it’s the first time I read brood-mother kink and it def changed my perspective). Enjoy!

Brood-mother

Insect-monsters x fem!reader || oviposition, free use, heavy dub-con, breeding, brood-mother kink, aphrodisiacs

You walked into that cave without idea, without knowing what the fuck you were supposed to do there. When the wizard hired you for a special mission, going as far as looking specifically for you because apparently you had everything he needed, you didn’t argue much. He said some cryptic stuff as he gave you instructions to walk into the cave and look for something, he only said you’ll know when you found it, and you, silly you, accepted. It was good money, and it seemed simple enough, even if the wizard was creepy as fuck and you didn’t even know what you were looking for.

You had been walking in the cave for less than ten minutes when you felt something against your back, and you fell face down to the ground. You didn’t have time to turn around, didn’t have time to react before you felt some slimy substance around your hands and ankles. It was disgusting and you tried to get it off but you couldn’t move, the substance pinned you down to the ground. You were panicking, unable to move in any direction… and then you felt it. It was like tiny pokes against your back, against your legs, and buzzing sounds that made you shiver. What was that?

You turned your head to the side in time to see a bunch of crawling-insects running in your direction, you were about to scream when something was shoved inside your mouth. You didn’t know what it was, but it tasted amazing and you latched to it, sucking strongly to get more of that substance. The reaction was fast, your whole body getting hotter as you felt the first insects getting to your body.

The tore your clothes off, your body being stripped as you groaned and moaned against the weird thing in your mouth, unable to scream, unable to stop sucking that sweet nectar that was driving you slowly insane. You barely remembered the words of the wizard when they said you would be prepared and ready when they arrived. What seemed cryptic at the moment made total sense when you realized they were preparing you for them, they were making sure you were fertile and breedable for them.

They needed a queen… and they found you.

That was your last thought before you felt something akin to a cock was shoved into your pussy without preamble. It felt weird, ridged and harder than a human penis, but it rubbed against your walls in a way that made your head dizzy with pleasure as you got wetter and wetter. It didn’t take long before you felt the appendage parting inside of you, the side pressing against your G-spot, the tip probing at your cervix before something was inserted into your uterus. An egg. They were laying eggs inside of you. You wanted to run away, to scream… to care. But it felt so good. It felt too good and your brain wasn’t even yours anymore, you could only think of pleasure and breeding, of being full of them so you could be their queen. Their real queen.

That cock was pulled out and another took its place, thrusting into your body without mercy as you squirmed in pleasure, your pussy convulsing as you came around it. Another egg was pushed inside you. And another dick shoved inside your dripping pussy. An egg. A dick. An egg. A dick. It was an intoxicating circle that drove your brain and body into a frenzy.

You’d never felt something like that, being at the complete mercy of creatures you couldn’t even name was making you aroused, aroused to the point of juices pooling under your body. Maybe it was the aphrodisiac, but deep down you knew you were just perverted, and the fact that you were just a fuck-hole to breed for them… it made you hot. The idea that you will be pregnant with all their eggs… it made your clit tingle harder as another egg was pushed inside of you. It was intoxicating.

It continued for hours, they pumped you so full of eggs you felt about to explode, your stomach distended pushed your body into an awkward angle that only made your pussy more available for the next round. So many of them filled you, you lost count of how many eggs there could be inside of you. You came so many times you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore.

But then the buzzing stopped. “Shush little explorer, I’ve sent them away, they already did their job… They found the brood-mother,” the creepy voice of the wizard resonated inside your half asleep brain as you felt the slimy restrains disappear and he took your body, too tired to fight back.

[pinksturniolo]

Am I Wrong?

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem reader

warnings: foreplay (sorta) in the car, neck kissing, mentions of alcohol

a/n: this is not part of a new/existing fic, i will not be writing another part, the idea simply popped into my head after i saw their new tiktok lmao enjoy <3

Rain pelted against the windows of the moving car, the air around the two of you thick and almost suffocating from the tension. His lips hadn’t touched your own yet, but they were attached to your neck. His kiss was wet, warm and searing, causing heavy breathing from you as your heart accelerated with the feeling of his tongue on your skin. His large hand splays across your bare thigh, fingers teasing just inches from the hem of your dress, his other arm draped across the back of your seat.

You lean into him more as he buries his face even deeper into your neck and now his breathing is heavier as he practically pants against you, your desperate need for him to be closer as you tug on his tie. Your eyes slip close when his teeth graze you, and a small whimper escapes you as he sucks onto the spot right below your ear, directly under your jaw.

He smirks slightly, enjoying the fact that he’s causing this reaction from you. There’s no denying that he’s just as needy though, his hard cock aching in his suit pants. You’ve barely touched him since you two left the party but the feeling of your warm skin against his mouth and the small, pretty sounds he’s managed to elicit from you has his head spinning.

 He wanted more of you, he needed more. Ever since he saw you in that curve hugging black dress, leaning against the wall in the back corner of the room, lips wrapped around a glass of liquid courage. A warm glint in your eyes but a cold expression on your face, daring someone to approach you. He knew he couldn’t stay away.

In an effort to show him you feel the same and with a surge of confidence, you remove the grip you had on his tie and trail it down the soft fabric of his white dress shirt, unbuttoning the first few buttons to slide your hand inside and over his chest. He sighs against you and lifts his head slightly to momentarily pause his work against your neck of blue and purple marks. His mouth hovers against yours as you exchange breaths.

You want to kiss but the intensity is almost too much as your hands feel his bare chest underneath his wife beater. You can feel how hard his heart is pounding. He grips the side of your dress harshly, making it bunch up around your hip.

Once you move your hand out of his shirt and then down his abdomen, over the clothed hardness in his dress pants, he bucks his hips involuntarily and curses under his breath. He’s so sensitive and his reaction makes your already soaked underwear slicker with your arousal.

You’re suddenly very grateful that there’s a black privacy window in between the back seat and the driver. You’re not sure if it was a luxury Uber Chris had ordered or one of those shiny blacked out Tahoe SUVs that rich people and celebrities got driven around in. You barely even noticed the make of the car when you climbed in, his hand holding yours as you rushed into the backseat, hoping that no curious paparazzi or fans would see you two.

But now the car is rolling to a stop, seemingly arriving at your destination. Rain continues to come down outside, the only sound that can be heard besides the heavy breathing. 

Your hand is still placed on his crotch as he tangles his fingers in your hair and looks down at where you’re touching him. “Okay hear me out.” He takes in a shaky breath as you apply a little more pressure to your touch, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you feel how big he is. Your mind races with thoughts of how it would feel… how it would fit. How he would sound.

“Would I be completely out of line if I was to say you’re gonna come inside with me right now… up to my bedroom and… let you do anything you want to me?” He rasps, looking back up at you, the look in his blue eyes driving you insane.

“Or am I wrong?”

taglist: <3

(this is my current one, pls lmk if anyone wants to be added or removed bc i haven’t posted in a while and im not sure if it needs to be updated!)

@christhopersturniolo @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturniolopepsi @riasturns @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @inveigledvex @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @eryismum @sturncakez @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn @mattscoquette @jnkvivi @h3arts4harry @chrizznmetswife @bambi-slxt @streamermattsgf @mattspolitank

[twipsai]

doodle dump 1: sonic post

as always, explanations for each under the cut

1 - an idea for a canon compliant Scourge, as well as a sorta Miles? idk hes not based off of Miles at all mostly but i think he would have a similar attitude. may make more of these two

2 - a Sally design me and @/chipistrate made :3

3 - CHIP

4 - a Sonic Advance sprite redraw

5 - Tails in his comfy coat from a recent sonic pict :D

6 - classic Amy and Sonic from the fic ive been writing

7, 8, 9 - practicing how to draw Tails by redrawing some cute panels of him from Seasons of Chaos :D

10 - thing that happened with me and my sibling. reference here

11 - drift~!

12, 13 - sonic x redraws

14 - OLD SHADOW!!!! without gloves or shoes, cuz i wanted to show how his nails grew like Black Doom's

15 - concept art for 30 y/o sonic, but ill probably change it later

16 - Silver and Von Shlemmer :D

17, 18 - the sleeper

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 10

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You still don’t know what to call the man. Captain? Rogers? He’s just the man to you. The stranger who doesn’t speak. 

He doesn’t linger. You can’t help but wonder if it’s some game. If he’s playing with you. His stoicism is just another weapon against you. As he leaves, you sit, stunned and lost. Alone. 

The front door of the cabin shuts you in but you don’t know that you would have the courage to let yourself out. The man found you once; unbidden and unexpected, you’re certain he could do it again and again and again. So, you wait until you’re certain the house is empty before you get up. 

You fix the nightgown and hug yourself as you peek through the open bedroom door. You emerge warily and glance through to the bathroom. The front room once jars you further. You forgot how cozy, how normal it seams. 

You wander around the frayed rug and inspect every piece of furniture. A draft runs through the room, blowing in around the door. There’s an iron basket of split logs next to the fireplace. There’s something yellow on top.

You go over and open the packet; inside, a lighter and a little booklet on how to start a fire. Hm. There’s a bag of kindling next to the wood as well. Maybe later. 

You set the packet back down and turn to face the other doorway. The one you’ve not yet ventured through. The kitchen is small but tidy. On the table, there’s a small crate. Within, sorted neatly, are similar silver packets to the one he handed you in the bedroom. They are labeled alongside a large bag of quick oats. 

The oats simply read, ‘Breakfast’. The writing is jagged but legible. Each packet is labeled decisively; Day 1 – Dinner, Day 2 – Lunch... On and on. You turn and face the fridge. The only thing on it is another note. ‘Drink Water. Not Tap.’ Got it. After the complete absence of communication, it’s nice to have at least a little directive. 

You retreat to the bedroom and check the empty packet. Yep, Day 1 – Lunch. Amid the chaos of your abduction and the desolation of this place, the pieces of order stick out sorely. It all feels so fractured. 

You go to the armoir and try to open it. The doors don’t budge. You back up and cross your arms again. You’re really starting to get cold. You should get the fire going before your fingers go completely numb. 

You strip the flannel blanket from the bed and wrap it around your shoulders. You go back into the living room and hep the extra layer at your waist as you sit on your knees and try to figure out the fireplace. After several splinters and some sparks from the lighter, you get a flame struck. 

You stay close and hold up your hands as it begins to lick. You settle down on your butt and hug yourself under the blanket. You watch the flames swirl and your vision blurs with little orbs of colour.  

The questions don’t matter. The answers won’t make a difference. Why are you here? Where is here? No, it’s useless. Just like from the first moment you saw him. You know now, it wasn’t the first time he saw you. 

You hang your head and let it pour out of you. The fear throttles you so you’re choking on your sobs. Your body wracks and your skull throbs. You don’t want to live like this but you’re too afraid to die. 

You wade up from the dregs of your grief and the room comes clear again. You’re on your side before the glowing embers. You sit up and put another piece of wood on the pile then get up. You stagger around to the bedroom, your feet moving without your mind’s intent. 

You go to the corner. You stare at the shelf. The pictures, the stolen parts of your existence, the shank of hair... is gone? You saw him put it there. Oh well. Good riddance. 

You shudder and squint over the images. There’s one from over a year ago. The last time you saw your family. You shake your head and back up. No. No. You didn’t know for that long. Well, how could you expect something like this? 

You sniffle and leave the room. You can’t stay in there. Not with that shrine? Altar? You don’t even know what. 

You take a stiff pillow from the couch and lower yourself in front of the fireplace again. You close your eyes but you don’t know if you’ll be able to sleep. There isn’t much else to do. 

Time skews into a haze. It’s dark, then light, and dark again. Your stomach gurgles but by the time you get the food warm, you’re too sick to eat more than a few bites. As the days wilt by, a stench roils from your body. 

The packets help you track the day, even as you miss some, you try to keep some order in your mind. On Day Four, you dare to try the faucet. The tub pours out steaming water. You adjust it before you sink in. It’s as close to peace as you’ve found. 

As the water stagnates around your body, you can’t help but think. When will he come back? Will he be back? You don’t think he’s out there having fun and frolicking. You could tell by his attire, by the marks of death on that shield. 

You let the water go cold then drain it. You pull the same nightgown on, even as it reeks. You just need something on. You reclaim the blanket and your perch before the fireplace. You wish you had something warm to drink. Coffee or tea. Nothing could ever make this place anything less than a prison, but you wouldn’t mind some comfort.