#the second it happens i will actually pass out

[yanaromanov]

fuck me, i’m famous

｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

paring: rockstar!natasha romanoff x reader

summary: when your boyfriend drags you along to a rock concert of a band you barely know, and then ceremoniously dumps you to go out with his friends after, it feels like your night can’t get any worse. thankfully, the guitarist of the band seems to take a particular interest in you and offers you an alternative offer on how to spend your night that seems just too good to refuse.

warning(s): cheating (r has a bf), but he’s a shitty bf, oc male character, band jargon that may or may not be correct, alcohol consumption, copious amounts of flirting, slight mention of crystals, swearing, many pet names, first time with a woman, smut, fingering, thigh riding, masturbation, scissoring, multiple orgasms, hickeys, natasha talking you through things, lots of praise, slight degradation (?), minors dni.

authors note: okay i feel like this is kinda bad and messy but i also spent too much time on it not to post. i’m still getting used to writing smut and haven’t wrote anything like this before so i hope it’s okay 😭😭 the end is also rushed so plz just ignore that :))

wc: 12.2K words

You've seen enough books and movies to know how things are supposed to go. How that perfect moment comes, when the pieces fall into place and you suddenly realize this is what you're meant to do, what you've always meant to do. But you've also lived a life long enough to know it never actually happens. In truth, it's all a bunch of bullshit.

There's never such thing as love at first sight, no moment where the world freezes on everyone except you and music plays in slow motion in the background, your eyes falling on that one person through the crowd that you just know your heart only beats for. In real life, the cards just don't fall like that. There's too many shitty people and grievous circumstances for the true movie dream to ever be lived, forever just a piece of fiction one can only fantasize of.

You know all this, understand it to be true. And yet, one hot Summer night, it feels like it all melts away and that fairy tale veil falls down right in front of your very own eyes.

It's not slow when it happens, not like in the movies. It's fast and loud and hot and sweaty. The music around you blares into your ears, bodies beside you screaming out lyrics you barely know. In the crowded space, you at least try to have a good time, try to mimic your boyfriend's energy as he dances and sings beside you, but you know its all futile. You want to leave. Truly, never wanted to come in the first place, but had done for him, for all his pleas and begs. You'll love it, I promise. Please come, baby, please.

The lights are hurting your eyes, the fog burning at your irises. Everyone is far too close to you, strangers pressing up against your sides from the front row section your boyfriend, Tyler, had demanded you needed. You don't feel it right all the back there. You need to be close to feel it in your bones. You feel a little sick.

And then that's when it happens. Body jostling against the side of the raised stage, ears ringing from being far too close to the speakers, that's when your own movie moment finally crashes into you. It's quick, so quick you don't even take notice till a few seconds after it happens. As your eyes raise to the band playing in front of you, they graze over each of the members. The brunette hugging the microphone center stage; the other behind hammering into a black drum set; the tall blonde whose fingers dance over the fretboard of a blue bass; and then finally, the woman playing an electric guitar stage right the same color as her fiery red hair. When you meet her eye it's like one of those moments back in high school, when you're accidentally caught making eye contact with someone across the class. But this time, unlike any time with your classmates, the redhead doesn't screw her face up, passing you a dirty look. What the fuck are you looking at? Instead, she winks.

Seconds later her gaze is gone, returned to the vibrating audience, and it takes you just about as much time to even acknowledge what had just happened. It seems fake, like a miscommunication in the space of a blink. Surely you must be imagining things, the heat in the room finally getting to you. But no, you're so sure of it. So set on what you've seen. A few moments later, it's like it's confirmed. The redhead's sights turn back on you, looking down into the pit of bodies where you stand. This time she holds, her eyes trained to yours as she continues to pluck the strings of her guitar. A small smirk stretches across painted lips, teeth plunging down into plump flesh. The music doesn't slow like it does in the movies. In fact, it seems almost louder than ever as you hold contact with the redhead's playful gaze. And when she winks again, chin jutting in your direction, you know it's you she's looking at.

You feel a little too seen, and not so much in a good way. You don't feel that special moment you read about in books, the time you are the chosen one across the sea of other bodies, a spark lighting in your heart at the romanticism of it all. It actually only drives one question in to your head; why the fuck is she looking at me?

You duck your eyes away, looking to the floor and the scuffed boots on your feet. There's a half-full cup of water a few inches in front of you. You watch as dancing feet almost collide with it, surely only seconds a way from being spilled. It holds your attention for a long time, so long your boyfriend is grasping at your cheek to check you're alright. You smile the way you always seem to do. Lips painting a picture of 'yes, I'm fine', while your brain screams out in contradicting protest. How much longer till this thing is done? My fucking head hurts.

When the final song does eventually roll around, you're too lost in your own thoughts to even care. The redhead guitarist has made eye contact with you three more times since you'd first noticed. If there was any doubt you had she wasn't seeking you out, it was surely dissipated now. Each time your eyeline had actually raised to the stage in front of you, it was like the woman's eyes were already waiting for you.

Trying to hold back the dizziness from gazing down at the floor, you had tried to remember the redhead's name. In no offence to the band, or their adoring fans lined up behind you, you actually didn't know of them much at all. Sure, you've heard their songs blasted through your boyfriend's speakers, saw their faces on cassettes and cd's dumped around your apartment, but you've never truly been a follower of the band Crimson Coven. You try to rack your brain of the knowledge you have, of every rant your boyfriend has been on that you so casually zone out from. The lead singer's name is Wanda, you know that much. She seems to be his favourite from the amount of things you've heard him rattle on. She's never even taken singing lessons. She's actually European, isn't that sick? Did you know she has a twin brother? You should do your makeup like her, babe.

The redhead has you thrown for a loop though. There are two names swimming in your head, though you're pretty sure the drummer is the one named Maria and Carol doesn't seem to fit the guitarist stood on the right. For the life of you it seems you can't draw the name from your head. It stays that way until the concert is finishing, stood watching the four women walking off stage, screaming out "thank you's" and collecting thrown objects on to the small stage, all the while you notice a certain member's eyes still trained on you. You simply turn away and grab on to Tyler’s hand, letting him guide you out of the dissipating crowd. God, you can't wait to get home.

The line to the bathroom is a slight roadblock in your plan. It's not torturously long by any means, but it still has you stood outside pressing your thighs together as you try desperately to hold in the three cans of beer you'd drank before the gig had began. You're regretting that decision now as the line filters slowly into the venue's singular women's bathroom. Seriously, what the fuck is up with that? If it weren't for the half hour journey you had back to your place, you would have considered just holding it, but if the pain in your stomach were any indication, you weren't going to make it that far.

When it's finally your turn, you all but run into the cubicle. It's quieter in there, a barricade between the groups of people who’ve chosen to stay to socialize in the venue's lounge and bar area. The stall is not only a relief for your full bladder, but also your pounding head. You stay in there longer than what's needed, most likely angering the girls waiting outside, but you just can't help it. It's cool and quiet and a desperate contrast to the overstimulating room you'd just spent the last two hours in. After washing your hands, you take the time to check up on your makeup, licking the tip of your finger to fix the slightly smudged liner of your eyes. All in all, you're pretty intact considering the circumstances. A pleasing picture that will soon be washed away as you head home for a night of constant reiterations of the concert you'd just experienced.

You're almost rolling your eyes already at the thought, so easily predicting your boyfriend's behavior for the next several hours. It's this state of disapproval that blinds you as you open the door to the bathroom, not noticing the taller woman standing there before she's backing you up into the stall.

You stumble slightly as the presence walks towards you, your eyes adjusting to the other person who has suddenly joined you in the room. For a moment their back is turned, locking the door to the stall before their face is revealed to you. You curse a little under your breath when you recognise the features.

"There you are. God, do you know hard it was to track you down? Slipped right in here before I could get to ya."

The redhead in front of you breathes out her words, smiling down at you in a way that flips your stomach. It's in that moments everything truly comes crashing down. Every doubt you had, every belief that things like this don't happen in real life is swept away as the famous guitarist stands in front of you. It really was you she was looking at from the stage and now she'd tracked you down. Pinned you into a bathroom stall as she looks down on your figure with her eyes wide, almost drunk. "Uhm, hi?" Is all you manage to say, the entirety of the situation still comprehending itself in your mind.

The redhead in front of you smirks widely as she responds. "Hi." It's then that it hits you, the name you couldn't pinpoint earlier. Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. Lead guitarist of Crimson Coven. You're trying to remember anything Tyler might have said about her when she takes another step in your direction.

"Wow," she breathes, almost to herself. "You're even prettier up close." Her eyes seem to trace over your whole figure, her tongue playing with the inside of her cheek. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

"Uhm...thank you?" you stutter back, not entirely sure of how you're supposed to act in this situation. You're still trying to get over the shock of her pushing you back into the bathroom before you'd tried to leave. Not sure what else to do, your own eyes trail over the star stood ahead of you. She's still wearing her outfit from her performance; an old looking graphic tee tucked into a pair of black denim shorts. The boots on her feet have silver embellishments that match perfectly with the necklaces around her neck and many rings adorning her fingers. Her lips are painted a shade of faded red that both contrasts and yet somehow works perfectly with her hair, curled and messy around her shoulders. As you look over her, the thought of why your boyfriend may just like her band so much crosses your mind. She really was hot as shit.

But despite her looks, there's still an anxiety bubbling in your chest at this situation. It’s probably not often people could get this close to the star, let alone be held up in a room alone with her. Yet your ears are still ringing and the only true wish crossing your mind's eye is your bed. So, disappointing every girl who'd rather be in your place, you simply clear your throat as you gesture mindlessly to the door behind her. "I think there's people waiting outside to use this cubicle."

The rockstar cocks her head, smirking back. "Oh yeah?" She shrugs, only briefly glancing over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door. "I'm sure they'd be fine waiting. Didn't mind letting me cut through the line." When she smiles back at you, you assume the look in her eye is a mirror of how a predator looks at its prey. You find your lip between your teeth as you look back, very aware of just how much time you'd already spent in this bathroom and how there was a lot of people stood outside who would be becoming increasingly more annoyed at the occupied status, rockstar be damned. Though her attitude remains relaxed, the redhead in front of you seems to pick up on your hesitation because she lets out a low sigh. "Look, if you're really that bothered why don't don't we leave and your pretty ass can join me backstage?"

She takes another step towards you, eyes darkening a they take in your figure. You swallow the saliva in your mouth in an attempt to cool the burn in your stomach. "Sorry-I um-I have a boyfriend," you manage to stutter out, taken aback by her advances. She definitely was hitting on you, that much was clear now, but you knew that Tyler would be waiting for you somewhere, most likely wondering why the fuck you were taking so long to pee.

When your words ring out, its like the redhead's brain short circuits. She almost freezes, only her brows moving to pull into a deep frown. "Shit," she murmurs. "Really?"

You nod in response, fingers playing with the back of your shirt. "Yeah." The redhead looks awfully confused, her gaze trailing over you as if there's something she's missed. When her eyes meet yours once more, its like your answer is a complete mystery to her, like there's something she saw you must have missed in your own reflection. You try to brush it off, not delving into whatever thoughts must be running through the star's head. Instead you just clear your throat again, pointing to the door. "He's um- probably waiting for me."

A tight smile passes across your lips as you slowly move towards the door. The redhead lets you go, ever so slightly brushing past her arm without another word said. You reach for the handle of the door, turning it open before leaving the rockstar behind to wallow in whatever confusion or disappointment runs through her head. You just want to find Tyler and get the hell out of there.

When you finally emerge from the bathroom stall, it feels even warmer than it had before. Though now you're not entirely sure if it's just the air, or also the blood you can feel coursing through your cheeks. You try your best to brush it off, looking around the space to try and locate wherever your boyfriend might have wondered off to. Walking past the line of remaining girls, you have to try ignore their passing stares. Most are likely from your extended use of the bathroom, holding them up even further, but you can't help but feel at least a few are thinking about whatever happened between you and Natasha in that stall and why on earth you had the nerve to leave such an opportunity unfulfilled.

Trying to leave the entire interaction behind, you move to the main area of the venue lounge to try find your boyfriend so you can finally head home. It takes you a good few minutes of searching through the crowds before you spy him across the way, stood talking with all of his friends that he'd brought along to the concert.

"Tyler," you call, passing through bodies to get to him. When he doesn't seem to hear you, you shout again. "Tyler!"

Finally, he turns around, a look of recognition passing over his face as you appear by his side. "Oh there you are, babe," he says. "Where the hell did you go?"

"I was just-I was peeing," you reply, looking around sheepishly at the group of men all staring down at you. It wasn't that you didn't like Tyler's friends per se, it was more so they just weren't your type of people. Most times they’re around, you manage to skilfully skirt around them until a time when they've all gone back home.

Tyler scoffs a little at your comment. "You were gone for like half an hour." He laughs, gesturing to the group as they all join in.

"Yeah. Um-the line was long," you say, trying to avoid the annoyance creeping up your spine as well as skirt around the encounter you'd had just moments ago. Partially because you were still trying to wrap your head around it but also because you didn't want to hear whatever he had to say about what happened. Instead, you just let out a small sigh. "Can we just go home now?"

"Oh actually," Tyler starts. "We were thinking of hitting up a few bars before we went home."

The words hit you like a blast of hot air, unable to deny the feeling of annoyance brewing under your skin. Still, you try to remain sweet in hopes he'll seek pity on you. "Tyler, please," you reply. "I'm tired, can't we just-"

"You don't have to come."

He cuts you off quickly, halting the words in your throat. The attitude you can hear in his voice almost immediately breaks the facade of kindness you were putting on. "Excuse me?"

Tyler shrugs, having the nerve to look annoyed, like you're the one being unreasonable here. "Just call a cab home. You'll be fine." And with that it seems he's had enough of the conversation, turning his shoulders away as he beckons his group to follow.

"No, Tyler wait," you try, but he continues to move away. The only thing you receive is him quickly turning over his shoulder, calling out a goodbye as he promises to see you later.

"Tyler!" You yell but it's futile, the image of your boyfriend already swallowed up by the crowd. "Fuck."

For the second time tonight it feels like you have no idea how to react. You swivel around on the spot, like a lost kid in a grocery store. Some part of you can't believe he would just leave you like that, but then the other part understands it's him all over. Stupid selfish prick.

Far past being annoyed at the night's events, you reach for the phone buried in your jacket pocket, determined to just do as you were told and order a cab home. When the screen returns to you black, the only image your own reflection staring back at you even as you press the power button repeatedly, a long string of curses escape your lips. Stupid fucking phones and their stupid ass batteries. And of course tonight had to be the night you had forgone your charger, leaving you with just a useless weight of metal that you slip back into your pocket. Just my fucking luck.

For a moment, you're stuck on what to do, how to find a way home, but then your eyes fall on the bar across the room. You make your way through the crowd, squeezing past people and mumbling half-assed 'sorry's' and 'excuse me's' until you eventually reach the bar. When you do, the bartender walks over to you, a small smile appearing on his face. "Hi, what can I get for you?"

"Actually, I was just wondering if you could call me a cab?" you reply, raising your voice to be heard over the venue's loud music.

The bartender furrows his brow. "What?"

"A cab," you repeat, leaning in further to his ear. "Can you call me a cab, please? My phone is dead."

"Oh, I can't sorry," he responds, shrugging his shoulders. "Phone is broken."

"What? Can't you use your mobile or-"

"Not while I'm on shift."

He shrugs again. You scoff.

"Please. I really need to get home."

"Sorry," the bartender responds finally, turning away to move towards another customer down the bar.

You watch him go, scowling. When he starts to talk to someone else, asking for their order, another waterfall of curses fall from your tongue. How the fuck were you supposed to get home now?

"Hey gorgeous."

The voice all but pulls you from your thoughts and to the right, dragging you away from the harsh stare you were given the unhelpful bartender. When your eyes fall to the person who had sidled up beside you, a small sigh slips out, your eyes rolling in their sockets.

"Wow," the redhead responds, easily picking up on your bad attitude. She holds her hands up. "Sorry to offend."

You look back at the rockstar, at Natasha. It seems she's found you again in a moment where you want nothing more than to find a way out of there. Though despite your frustration, you know it's not her fault, that she isn't the one controlling the universe so adamant on your downfall tonight. So, you force yourself to soften your expression as you turn back to her. "No. No, I'm sorry," you say, shaking your head slightly. "It's just- I'm trying to get a cab home but apparently their phone is broken." You gesture towards the bar, displaying the utter uselessness of its bartender with the look on your face.

Natasha seems to take a little amusement in your frustration, the faintest of a smile appearing on her face. "You ain't got your own phone to call a cab?" The mobile is received from your pocket, quickly held up by your hand as you flash the dead device to the redhead opposite. She sighs, tilting her head back. "Ah, I see. What about that boyfriend of yours? Couldn't he call you a cab?"

You're a little surprised to hear her mention that piece of information, even if you'd only shared it with her minutes before in the bathroom stall. The mention of his presence is enough to drag the long sigh from your chest as you stare down at the bar. "Not when he's the reason I need one."

"Alright, I'm gonna need you to elaborate on that one."

Her words draw your eyes back to her, briefly grazing over her face before you respond. "He left with his friends. Gone off to some other bar. Told me to phone a cab home."

Natasha lets out a breath of air. "Dickhead." You watch her as she takes a sip from the beer in her hand, trying not to notice the way her lips look pressed against the top of the bottle. "You know, a pretty girl like you shouldn't have to wait around on assholes like that."

And then there's that same heat you felt in the bathroom, creeping up your cheeks unwelcome. You turn away again as you shrug in an attempt to hide it. "He's not that bad-" "Sure," Natasha cuts you off before you can even finish your explanation. In truth, you weren't even sure what else you were going to say, what redeeming qualities you could draw about the boy who'd left you stranded in the city to go get drunk with his friends. Instead you just turn to the woman sat beside you, only shallowly realising how she is in fact a minor celebrity and that a lot of the people around were probably looking over at the pair of you. But when Natasha smiles and leans in, it's like it all disappears. "Alright, lemme tell you this. You let me buy you one drink and I'll phone you a taxi home."

You look back at the rockstar sat across from you, letting her words settle into your mind. This close you can once again tell just how beautiful she is, how any girl in this room would pay good money to be where you are right now. But you don't want to be that kind of girl, the kind that chases after someone just because they have a little bit of fame. Nevertheless, there is something about the redhead that draws you in. Maybe it's the layers of piercings you can see stacking her ears, or the patchwork of tatoos lining her exposed arms. Whatever it is, something about her is making you want to follow whatever she says. Furthermore, her offer is one that is rather too good to refuse. After a moment, you sigh as you nod your head. "Fine. One drink." Natasha Romanoff smirks, calling the bartender over almost immediately with two fingers. It's the same tilted smile you had seen her passing you from across the stage, though now you can take notice of the small dimple that appears on her cheek when those lips pull taught. Everything about this encounter was setting something alight inside you but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

When your drink finally arrives - curtesy of a different bartender - you decidedly join the rockstar on the stools lined up against the bar. The leather is sticky and uncomfortable against the exposed skin under your skirt. Still, you ignore it as you look over at the redhead to your right, slowly taking a sip of the cocktail you'd ordered as you get the opportunity to voice the question that's been on your mind for the last couple hours. "Why were you looking at me on stage?"

"Why'd you think?" Natasha smirks the widest you've seen all night, licking her bottom lip as she turns to you. "I thought maybe you and I could have some fun but…you had to be little miss taken." You try not to react to her words, or moreover the way her eyes drag themselves over your body, particularly your exposed thighs against the red leather of the barstool. "Maybe we could still have some fun yet tho, hm?" Natasha finishes, her eyes returning to yours. Even in the dim light of the bar you can tell they're blown out, pupils wide as they drink you in.

You let out a sigh. "Listen, in the nicest way possible, I don't actually really know who you are and I don't know about this whole thing you're doing, if it's normal but-"

"Wait," Natasha cuts you off. "You were in the front row and don't know who I am?"

You feel a little bashful as you shrug your shoulders. "I mean- I kinda do, I guess. I mean- I've listened to a few of your band's songs but I'm not like- a fan or anything."

"Not a fan?" Natasha breathes, reaching to take another sip of her drink with an amused expression. "So tell me, how does a girl who's not a fan end up hugging the stage all night?"

You take a sip of your own cocktail before you reply. "My boyfriend bought the tickets."

"Ah there it is," Natasha nods. "The boyfriend yet again." She turns in her chair, legs moving to dangle off the side. "You know, he's not really our target demographic."

You know exactly what she's talking about, almost too quickly. It was rather obvious to you that Crimson Coven was not a band trying to attract straight men, even if they did flock to them over their members' good looks. "Yeah, I tried to tell him that," you reply, sipping on your drink.

One of the redhead's brows raises, eyes tracing over your face. "What's that one saying?" she ask, swirling the bottle in her hands. "Takes one to know one?" You feel the saliva pool in your throat as she looks back at you, smirk wider than ever. Swallowing harshly, you take a rather big swig of your drink, trying your best to ignore the way you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. Natasha simply breathes out a laugh. "I think you're maybe not as you first seem, little lady." Right then there's a look that passes between you, your eyes wide and questioning, Natasha's dark and hooded. Then her hand is landing on your thigh, just above your knee where the skin is exposed. Her thumb strokes back and forth delicately as she licks her lips. "Why don't you tell me your name?"

There's a strange bubbling inside your stomach, a flutter to your heart. You want to turn and walk right out of there, ditch the rockstar in front of you and try your luck hailing a cab on the street. But part of you notices the shiver her touch sends up your thigh, how her skin is warm against yours in just the right kind of way, how despite your circumstances, just how amazing this moment feels. "Y/N," you reply eventually, swallowing your first instincts to the warm pit of your stomach.

"Y/N," the redhead repeats, rolling the name over her tongue. "I'm-"

"Natasha. I know."

She seems taken aback by your quick answer, cutting off her sentence before she can finish. She frowns slightly back at you. "I thought you said you didn't."

Now it's your turn to raise your brow. "I said I wasn't a fan. Not that I didn't know your name."

"I see," Natasha replies, her voice laced with amusement. She smiles to herself as she sips her beer, turning back with a wide grin. "You know, I've never slept with a Y/N before."

"You sleep with a lot of girls then?"

"I've done the rounds," Natasha shrugs. The nonchalant nature of her reply is enough to have you passing her a displeased look across the bar. She raises her brow, looking back at you. "What? You want me to lie to you? Tell you I'm the virgin mary?"

You want to laugh in response but hold yourself back, entirely aware of the game Natasha is trying to play. "So...what?" you draw out, playing with the rim of your glass. "You want me to be one of your new collectibles?"

"Well maybe if I get lucky."

You turn back to the smirking redhead. "I wouldn't buy a lottery ticket."

And she laughs, like really laughs right into her drink before she takes a sip. When she places it back on the bar, she shakes her head as she turns to look at you with a smirk. "You know most girls flock to my side," she says, raising a brow. "Asking for autographs or pictures."

"I already told you. I don't know that much about your band."

"You're here though, aren't you?" Natasha replies. "You must know some things."

She isn't entirely wrong. Sure, you knew of the things your boyfriend has endlessly droned on about. About Wanda being the one who named the band. Or about Carol and her cat, or Maria and her brief military background. You even knew about Natasha, little sparks in your memory of her coming from Russia or her hair being blonde at some point. It's all stored in the backlog of your brain, hours of knowledge you'd spent years sorting into the dusty compartments of your mind you never cared to look at. Still, there's something now about speaking to Natasha in real time, not hearing about your boyfriend's idealised version of her that feels a little different. Things here feel a little more real.

You don't acknowledge Natasha's question as you take a sip from your drink. "You want me to ask for your autograph?" you ask as you place the glass back down. "Is that it?"

The answer that follows is in such a low register you can barely hear it over the music. "I think we both know what I want."

You look back at Natasha, at her dazzling smirk and messy red hair. "Well I'm sorry to disappoint but I'm not your girl." A tight smile appears on your lips as you gaze out into the sea of bodies across the room. "Why don't you go find someone else?"

"Why would I when you're the prettiest thing in here?" Natasha's response is quick, almost as quick as the way her eyes divert to to rest if your body. "Hell, I'd go as far as to say you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"Listen," you sigh. "I appreciate the flattery but-"

"I ain't fucking around if that's what you think," Natasha says quickly, cutting you off. The look in her eye as she scans your face shows how genuine her words feel. "You caught my eye the second I stepped on stage. You're fucking gorgeous, angel. Forgive me if it's a crime to want to see more."

Despite your better instincts, you let out a laugh into your glass. No one has ever been this forward with you before, never complimented you so much to the point you can feel the heat of their words on your skin. Hell, not even Tyler was ever this keen to get you into bed. And you know you shouldn't like it, shouldn't fall for the rockstar's methods, but you can't help but enjoy the praise just a little bit.

That feeling is soon quashed however when your temple gives a sudden jolt of pain. You wince slightly, reminded of the too-loud atmosphere you'd spent the last few hours in. The alcohol probably wasn't helping much either.

"What's wrong?"

You're a little surprised when Natasha speaks, unaware of her having noticed your small flinch at the pain. You simply shake your head in response, smiling back at her. "Nothing. I'm fine. It's just a headache."

"You know," the rockstar replies quickly. "It's cooler backstage. Quieter too." You must give her a look laced with poison because she holds her hands up in defence once again, though this time smirking back at you. "Hey, Im just saying."

Despite your glare, you're still interested in the redhead sat opposite you. It's like even with her forward approach, you can't help but be drawn to some part of her. You try to avoid the smile that creeps back on to your face as you look back into her eyes. "Does this routine usually work for you?"

Natasha chuckles to herself before leaning in to speak. "Honey, by now I usually have a girl screaming my name as she rides my face."

It's now you're entirely glad of the dimness in the room, hiding the flushed state that rises in your throat and heats up your cheeks. You can feel yourself getting worked up by Natasha's bold statement, unsure of what to do with yourself or how to respond. In doubt of yourself, you simply reach for the cocktail glass in front of you and down the rest of the liquid. It burns a little going down but you find you don't mind it. Anything to take away from the feeling you can recognise brewing in your stomach.

You can just about feel Natasha's smirk as much as you can see it, pressing into the side of your head as she watches you become flustered, clearly enjoying the effect she is having on you. "Here," she says, adjusting herself in the chair. "Let me buy you another one."

You turn to meet her eye, holding it harshly. "I said one drink."

That smirk remains for a long while as Natasha just looks back at you, not answering for a few passing moments. It even stays as she lifts one of her arms, arching it so it comes to rest on the back of your barstool, officially caging in your conversation. "Alright," she drawls, her body leaning in towards yours. "Look at it like this. I can buy you another drink and we can talk some more. Maybe think about heading backstage, get you somewhere quieter. Or..." The redhead licks her licks, pausing as she angles her head. "I can phone you that cab now and you can mope in the backseat till you get home. Then, stumble into your cold apartment alone and just wait for your drunk boyfriend to get home and sidle up next to you in bed."

The blatant look on Natasha's face is a good representation of how you feel about the whole situation she's proposed. The thought of dealing with Tyler later is enough to have you rolling your eyes, already imagining his drunken state reaching out for you and wiping wet kisses along your neck, stinking of booze and the remaining perfume of whatever girl he's been chatting up at the bar. It's almost like a routine you've both fallen into, simply ignoring it every time until without fail, it'll happen again.

And maybe tonight you're done with it. Maybe tonight is the night you don't want to have to deal with him anymore, to hear him talk about himself for hours on end like you don't even exist. It's partially the thought of finally letting that go that pulls you in the direction you choose, but it's also largely down to the way you can feel Natasha pressing in closer, her face moving just inches from yours as her lips press up against your ear. Somehow, it's like you can even feel her smirking as her lips barely graze the skin beside your face. "If you come with me, I promise you won't regret it."

Maybe it is that that finally does it for you, the shiver of goosebumps running down your spine as you still feel the redhead's hand grazing your thigh. Maybe it's that or maybe it's the heat finally getting to you, or the alcohol hitting your head. It could be any of those, or maybe combination of them all. Whatever your brain decides to settle on as a reason, it doesn't really matter because within seconds, you're calling over the bartender for another drink, allowing yourself to fall into whatever rabbit hole Natasha Romanoff is offering you.

"I knew I'd like you, Y/N," the redhead whispers close, grinning widely at your acceptance. You don't say anything in response until the bartender is placing your vodka coke on the bar. And even then, just as you reach for the glass, Natasha is diverging any words you may have spoken as she grabs hold of your hand. "Come on," she calls and it's a challenge not to spill any of the drink as the redhead quickly begins to pull you from the bar.

"Natasha, wait-" you try to respond, not entirely sure of where this might be going, but the star is quickly cutting you off as she presses her lips together.

"Shh," she drags, looking back at you over her shoulder. "It's okay, angel. It's better back here, I promise."

Something in you gives in because you let her drag you through the crowds of the room, trying desperately not to spill the beverage in your hands. You notice on the way a few recognising faces that glance at Natasha, then almost turn a little sour as they fall onto you. You only get the chance to wonder about their jealousy for a few moments before Natasha has pulled you away from everyone entirely, slipping you through a door into a quiet corridor. And then, after turning a few corners and dodging a few stacks of equipment crates, she pulls you through another door into an entirely empty room.

It's only then does the redhead finally release your hand, letting you roam free as she crosses to sit on one of the sofas positioned within the room. Beside them, there's stacks of band equipment, most of which you don't quite recognise. The red guitar on the stand is easy, and the set of drumsticks lying on a table, but the speakers and wires sit in a valley of other items you probably couldn't name if you tried.

There are scatterings of personality throughout the space; a leather jacket thrown over a couch, an ashtray of old cigarettes on a coffee table, some cards laying close beside it. And for a moment you wonder if this is what Natasha Romanoff's life is like. Backrooms full of band equipment, roaring crowds that call out her name. An endless supply of money and booze and cigarettes and girls. It's so so far away from the reality that you live that it can't help but be a little fascinating, this room just a little window into the life of a true rockstar.

The one thing you do very quickly notice however, is the main luxury that the exclusive backstage room seems to have; air conditioning. Beautifully cool air floods your body as soon as the door closes behind you, your headache already cowering back in the quiet atmosphere. You just can't help but let out a long, appreciative sigh at the respite from the hot, humid air outside.

"Told ya." Natasha's voice calls as you see her throw herself down on one of the sofas, so easily slipping into her own space backstage.

You simply roll your eyes as you take a sip of the drink in your hand, surprisingly intact after lugging it across the venue. "So, where are your other friends?" you ask, looking more so at the room full of band things than the member sat on the couch across from you.

Natasha sighs, sitting back as her eyes drag over you. "Probably in rooms close by hoping to get somewhere like me."

"And where exactly is that?" you ask, feet wandering across the opposite side of the room from the redhead. She smirks back at you, watching your every movement.

"Why don't you tell me, gorgeous?"

You can feel yourself smile, finally allowing Natasha's flirting get to you. But instead of replying to her question, you simply run your fingers over the red instrument propped up on the stand beside you. "How long have you played guitar?"

"Fifteen years," Natasha replies quickly, unwavering at your change of topic.

You nod to yourself, looking down at the instrument. "Wow." There isn't anything you've probably committed to for that long, besides maybe school. You take a sip of your drink as you turn to lean on a table against the wall, now facing the still sitting redhead across the way. "How'd you meet the other girls?"

"It's a long story."

You hum in response, waiting just a moment for her to elaborate before you realise she's leaving it up to your own imagination. The two of you hold eye contact as you bring your drink up to your mouth, letting the bubbles pop on your lips as you drink before smoothing it over with your tongue. Theres a specific look in Natasha's eye you can't seem to recognise, almost as if she wants to eat you right where you stand. That smirk widens as you take another sip, your tongue yet again swiping over your lips and the sweet residual soda lingering there. It's then Natasha finally speaks, nodding her head in your direction. "Come here."

And you do. Placing your drink down on the table before pressing yourself up from it, you slowly make your way across the room to where Natasha sits. As you come to stand between her open legs, the rockstar sits up, her body straightening and her hands coming to rest on the sides of your hips. You let them explore a little as Natasha moves, forgoing the layer of your leather jacket and pressing directly beneath the hem on your shirt. Her fingertips feel calloused as they brush the skin beneath it, years of playing guitar coming to create the most amazing sensation as she brushes against your body.

"God, your skin is so soft," Natasha says lowly, almost to herself. It sounds like she's truly mesmerised, her entire being taken over by the feeling of you against her skin. And perhaps some part of you feels it too because without knowing what truly compels you, you find yourself lowering your body down into her lap. Natasha smirks as you come to rest upon her thighs, knees caging either side of her body. She glances down at the way your skirt rides up, only leaving little to the imagination of what lies beneath. Her hands come to rest there, stroking the soft skin of your upper thighs as you lift your arms above her shoulders, letting them fall behind her head as you stare into her eyes. From here, in the new lighting of the backstage room, you can see the sea of green that shrouds her pupils.

For a while you two just drink each other in, your bodies comfortably close as your eyes trace one another. Then, eventually Natasha is talking once more as her fingers reach out towards you. "What's this?"

You follow her eyeline down to your chest, watching the way her fingers have found the crystal hanging around your neck. "Aventurine," your reply.

Natasha smiles as she looks back at your face. "Wanda's the crystal lover so you'll have to enlighten me. What does this one do?"

You shrug a little. "It's brings a few things...Hope, optimism, prosperity. Mostly luck."

The redhead raises a brow as her voice finds that playful tone. "Luck?"

"Mhm," you hum, finding yourself leaning in just slightly closer. "Stone of opportunity."

"So you're telling me it's because of this little rock that I wound up with a pretty girl sat on my lap?"

You hold back a laugh as you search Natasha's smirking face. "Don't call it a rock."

"No?"

You shake your head, humming. "I think it offends them."

The two of you are pressed even closer now, your arms coming crossed behind Natasha's head as she pulls you in. Her voice is almost a whisper when she speaks. "I know some things I could do to offend a lot of people."

The breath you release is shaky as you feel Natasha's hand reach up to cusp your face. She holds your chin, finger so delicate across your skin before she reaches to trace your bottom lip, just momentarily pulling it down with her thumb.

And it's then, with her face pressed so close to yours, green eyes almost black with lust, that you finally let everything go and you lean in. The first kiss is electrifying. Like that first strum of a chord when the guitar kicks in in a song, the bass just rattling your bones and setting your nerves on fire.

Natasha's lips are beautifully soft against yours, a contrast to the harshness of her fingertips you can feel pressing into the side of your face. She tastes like cherry lip gloss and cigarette smoke, sweet but hazy to your senses. The redhead quickly takes a grip of your jaw, angling your head just right so she can drive the kiss deeper. You don't complain as she begins to domineer your mouth, tongue sliding across yours with the skills of a professional.

When you both finally pull back for air, you can only wonder why you forced yourself to wait for this so long. Her touch is like nothing you've ever felt before, your entire body simply set alight with a hunger for her. You look down at the redhead for a moment and Natasha smirks devilishly up at you, eyes blown wide before she's pulling you back in. Your hands hold the back of her neck as your lips collide once more, pulling her in as close to you as you can in a desperate need for more.

Natasha's fingers dance up your arms before you can feel her begin to press the leather jacket away from your shoulders. You move your hands to let her remove it, only hearing it crash to the floor as you try desperately to hold your lips against the rockstar's. A low whine erupts in your throat as you feel her pull away seconds later, your bruised mouth chasing hers.

But Natasha just lets herself grin as her hands caress your body, deft fingers running up and down your sides. Only moments later, she's reaching beneath the material of your shirt to pull it over your head. Her breaths are heavy as her eyes trace your exposed body, almost fixated on the swell of your breasts in the lacy balconette bra cladding your chest.

"Fuck," the redhead says under her breath. Her hands come up to caress your tits, squeezing them tenderly through the material as your own pants flow from your chest. Her lips connect soon after, kissing and nipping at the skin of your cleavage with delicate precision. You let your head fall back as the redhead pays attention to your chest, simultaneously sucking and playing with your tits with her mouth and hands, sending rolls of pleasure flooding down your spine.

When one of her hands slips up the bare skin of your back, her lips disconnect as she meets your eye. Her fingers play with the clasp of your bra as you look down at her. "Can I?" she whispers, face so close to your own.

"Uh huh," you reply, nodding your head quickly. It's only seconds later you can feel the release against your chest, Natasha's skilled hands making quick work of the clasp and tossing your brassiere to the side. Her attention is straight back on you as she reveals your bare chest, kissing the previously hidden skin as she murmurs soft praises into the flesh. "God, you're so beautiful."

Your fingers find a place running through her hair as she continues to play with your tits, red fibres intertwined with your painted nails. A string of softer sounds elicits from your throat as Natasha's fingers find your nipples, pinching and pulling at the hardened buds with just the perfect amount of pressure.

"Natasha," you breath out heavily, holding back a moan as her teeth replace her hands playing with your chest.

"Yeah baby?" the redhead responds, looking up at you but not removing her face from where it rests.

The look on her face only adds to the pool you can feel forming between your legs, all down to her touch and copious amounts of flirting. You want to see more of her, want to run your hands across her body. Not entirely confident enough to word it, you settle for a whine as you tug at her shirt. Thankfully, it seems Natasha is apt at picking up your signals because she smirks widely before reaching to untuck her shirt and pull it over her head.

As the rockstar tosses it somewhere across the room, you can't help but stare at the sight she's unveiled. Her tits sit beautifully in a red bralette, perked perfectly with pink nipples visible through the mesh material. Every part of you feels totally enamoured by her look, eyes unable to peel themselves away from her heavenly cleavage on display.

It's in your admiration, you find yourself distracted, not noticing the way the rockstar's hand has slipped up your skirt until you suddenly feel her touch against your underwear. A gasp escapes you as her fingers graze over your clothed core, most definitely feeling the way her tactics have saturated the material. The redhead makes eye contact with you, pupils dark. "This okay?" she whispers, voice as thick as honey.

It takes all your efforts to breathe out a response, entirely worked up by her touch. "Yeah," you reply, nodding quickly. By this point you would let her do whatever she wanted if it would soothe ache between your legs.

Natasha smiles widely as she hears your response. "Lift your hips for me," she says, playing a chaste kiss to your collar bone. You do ask she asks, rising up to your knees on the sides of the couch. It gives Natasha the room to hook her fingers underneath the sides of your underwear, pulling them down painfully slowly as she looks into your eyes. When she finally manages to slide them over your legs, she tosses them somewhere off to the side before pulling you back down to sit on her lap.

Just then, a sudden thought crosses your mind. "I've-I've never done this before," you stutter out. "With a woman, I mean."

You wonder for a moment if Natasha will be put off by your inexperience, but that thought is quickly extinguished when the redhead only smirks wider. "That's alright," she replies. "Cause I happen to be somewhat of an expert."

You let out the barest of a laugh at her words, letting the anxiety flood out of your mind. Natasha's smirk holds as you feel her hand creep up your skirt again, dancing over the delicate skin of your inner thigh. "Relax, sweetheart," she husks. "I got you now."

Her fingers move to again run over your centre, this time touching your bare skin as you feel her fingers trace your soaked folds. She collects the wetness pooling from your centre before dragging it up to your clit, spreading it as she slowly begins to circle the bud. A moan slips as she presses a little harder, her fingers perfectly pooling pleasure between your legs.

"That's it, baby," Natasha purrs, face close to your ear. "Let me hear all those pretty noises."

You feel your teeth plunge into your bottom lip as another moan slips from your throat. Natasha's touch is so teasingly slow you can't help but buck your hips a little into her hand. "Please-" you whine, desperate for her to do more.

Thankfully, Natasha obliges and another moan drawls from your chest as you feel her middle finger plunge into your core. Your muscles tense around her, pulling her finger in further as your face comes to burrow into the redhead's shoulder.

"Uh uh," Natasha sounds from above you. "Let me see your face, pretty girl." Her finger find your chin, directing your gaze back up until your eyes meet with hers."There you go."

She smiles widely as she leans in for a kiss, once again enveloping your lips in her sweet, sultry taste. The two of you press deeply into another, noses brushing together. You can feel Natasha's finger slowly begin to move inside you, teasing your walls as you whine against her mouth. Your lips only disconnect when you feel Natasha add another finger to the one pumping inside you, your face falling as a gasp sounds from your chest.

She works almost painfully slow, her fingers pulling virtually all the way out before steadily bottoming inside you once again. Each time, her fingertips press against that spot inside you, just softly enough for you to barely feel it. Chasing more of a high, your hips begin to rut against her hand. "Natasha," you whine, voice long and drawn out at her teasing attitude. Some part of you wonders if it's some form of payback for letting it take so long to get you in this position.

The rockstar places a soft kiss to the side of your neck before she's whispering in your ear, hot breath fanning out across the skin. "Shh, just ride my fingers," she says, smiling against you. You feel her free hand come to rest upon your hip, slowly guiding you to rut harder against her hand. Each time you do, you feel her fingers curl into that spot inside you, sending soft sighs of pleasure cascading from your lips.

"'Atta girl," Natasha husks, continuing to guide your movements with her palm. Your hands come to rest upon her shoulders, holding yourself up as you rock back and forth. The redhead's fingers slide in and out of you with each motion, the sounds of the wetness between your legs joined by the moans slipping from your tongue.

Natasha watches with wide eyes as you grind against her hand, fingers gripping into her shoulders as your pleasure grows. She lets her digits curl inside you, releasing sweet, sudden sounds from your lips. Her thumb moves to brush against your clit, the hardened surface sending shocks of pleasure through you each time you rock your hips.

"Fuck baby," Natasha says lowly, watching you practically fuck yourself on her lap. "Are you gonna make a mess?" she drawls. "You gonna make a mess all over my fingers for me?"

"Uh huh," you respond, barely managing to nod your head as you can feel that coil building tighter and tighter in your stomach. Natasha's touch is like electric to your skin, each thrust building to a crescendo at your core.

"Come on, angel," the redhead whispers. "Show me just how pretty you are when you cum."

Her words, alongside one last thrust of your hips is enough to send you toppling over that edge. Your moan is drawn out loudly as you feel yourself come undone, eyes slamming shut as you grip hold of Natasha's shoulders. Your body arches in to her, letting Nat take advantage of your chest with her mouth once more as her fingers ride you through your orgasm.

"Fuck," you breathe, finally starting to come down from your high. You open your eyes once more to see Nat smirking up at you, letting go of your nipple between her teeth as both of her hands now rest on your waist. As your mind clears, you let yourself begin to fall back down on to her lap, but when you accidentally land directly on her thigh, you feel a shock sent through your core. You wince, immediately lifting yourself back up at the sensitivity.

But Natasha seems to have other plans. "Shh, angel. It's okay," she murmurs as her hands grip harsher on to the skin of your waist. She begins to push you back down, eliciting a gasp as your sensitive core connects again with her leg. You squirm a little in the position, fighting ever so slightly against Natasha as she tries to drop your full weight on to her. "Just sit on my thigh," she drawls, hands guiding you down. "Just like that, there you go."

The position hikes your tight skirt all the up to your waist, completely exposing your cunt as it comes to rest against the bare skin of Natasha's thigh. You're pathetically wet against her, cum still dripping out your core from your previous orgasm. But if anything, Natasha only seems to enjoy the way you soak her skin, smirking up at you as her hands begin to direct you once again. Her movements force you to rock back and forth slowly, your slick coating the skin of her leg beneath you. The wave of pleasure that comes from the movement sends a moan tipping out your mouth, your head falling back as your clit throbs with each brush against Natasha's thigh.

"Does that feel good, baby?" the redhead beneath you husks, still guiding your movements. It takes all your focus to nod your head. "Mhm?" Natasha questions, her voice purely laced with amusement. "You're such a good girl. Just keep grinding on me, just like that."

You feel the rockstar's hands disengage from your waist but your movement continues, encouraged by her words and praise. You watch between fluttering eyelashes as Natasha reaches to take off her bra, tossing it aside and revealing her perfect tits to you. Then, you see as her hands moves to undo her shorts, opening each button before her fingers disappear beneath the waistband of the black denim.

You hold back a whine as you see her face contort, only imagining what her fingers may be doing under the material of those shorts. "God, you're making me so wet," the redhead breathes, reaching up to place a kiss on to your pouting lips. You release a whine into her, muffled by her tongue lapping over your own. "Such a pretty girl," Natasha mewls when she pulls away, one hand reaching up to caress your jaw. "So pretty just for me. Wanna see how wet I am for you?"

You feel yourself nodding as you look into her green eyes, turned even more on by the concept of Natasha getting off just by looking at you. The redhead removes her fingers from beneath her shorts before bringing them up to your face, letting you view the soaked digits momentarily before pressing them up to your lips. You take in her fingers welcomely, humming around them as you let the taste of her coat your tongue.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Natasha husks, sounding about as love-drunk as you felt sucking on her fingers. She lets you lap them up a moment longer before pulling them from your lips with a pop. Then, you watch as she dips them back below her shorts, moaning softly at the contact it makes on her hidden centre.

Your eyes feel almost transfixed on the hand concealed beneath the material of Natasha's black shorts. The only true indication of whatever her fingers are doing comes from the delicate hums and sighs that escape the redhead's lips. The sight alone is enough to make you grind your cunt harder against her thigh, desperately trying to ease the heat growing there.

The rockstar notices your attempts becoming more determined, fingers clutching at her shoulders as your own needy mewls drip from your tongue. "Are you gonna cum on my thigh baby?" she asks, smirking widely.

You grind faster against her, trying desperately to chase your high but it feels like it's never coming. "I can't," you whine, hopelessly rutting atop of her.

"You can," Natasha nods.

"Mm-hm," you hum, shaking your head. Your fingers grip harder into her skin, the feeling between your legs never quite reaching that peak you're seeking out.

"You can, baby," Natasha replies quickly, voice assertive. "Look, just like this." You feel her hands come to rest upon your ass, fingers gripping into the soft flesh before she begins to rock you once more. With her guidance, you follow a more structured pattern, your clit brushing perfectly against her thigh with each rock of your hips. "There you go," the redhead hums, watching your face screw up in pleasure at the newfound rhythm. Moans begin to cascade from your lips in desperate tones as each new thrust sends you closer to that edge. The way Natasha guides you sends perfect waves of pleasure through your entire body, your hands pressing into her shoulders to try ground yourself in the high. When you feel her fingers join in on the equation, your cries turn ever more lewd, her hand placed so that your clit brushes directly over her calloused tips each time you rut your hips.

"Come on baby girl," you hear Natasha husk, her face close to yours. "Cum for me. You can do it. Cum all over my thigh."

One more thrust sends you hurtling over the edge, screaming out as you feel a gush of warmth flooding onto Natasha's leg. Your arms wrap around her head, anchoring yourself in as you ride out your high, mewling choked moans into the redhead's ear. Natasha guides you through the orgasm once more, still slowly guiding your hips to an eventual stop. When you finally emerge from the crook of her neck, you're panting.

The rockstar admires the way your chest rises and falls, the green crystal still hanging around your neck, nestled in the valley of your breasts. "God, you're so fucking perfect," she husks, drinking in your figure. "I could get addicted to the way you look falling apart for me."

You don't say anything in response as you still try to calm yourself from the high, head feeling fuzzy as you look back at the redhead. She smirks widely as she watches you, utterly obsessed with the way you look sat on top of her, eyes glazed over in residual pleasure.

A single one of her fingers comes to swipe up some of the cum you've left slathered on her thigh, purposely brushing slightly over the top of your bruised clit just to watch you squirm a little before bringing her hand up to her own mouth. She practically laps up the stickiness coating her finger, humming lowly as your cum trickles down her throat. "God," she breathes, letting her finger fall. "I wish I had my strap so I could fuck that sweet little pussy of yours." You whine on top of her, still too inebriated to form a real response. Natasha only chuckles at your intoxication. "Would you like that, pretty girl? Like me to fuck you till you can't even think anymore?"

"Uh huh," you nod, already fantasying the image inside your head.

Natasha laughs again, tilting her head as she watches your face. "You're so cum-drunk right now I think you're already half way there. Isn't that right?" A low sound in the back of your throat is the only response, heightened when you feel Natasha's lips connect with your neck. She sucks as the soft flesh, glazing over the burn with her tongue. She stays there a moment, clearly leaving a mark on your skin that you have no idea how you'll cover up tomorrow. But quite frankly, you don't even care.

When Natasha pulls away, she notices how that glaze has left your eyes, your consciousness returning finally after your last climax. She smirks, eyeing you with that mischievous look as her face comes to rest near your cleavage, placing a chaste kiss to your sternum before looking back up. "You want me to empty that pretty head of yours some more?"

You're barely able to focus on her words as she lets her tongue circle around your nipple. In the end, you don't answer her question, simply whine as her teeth tease at the hardened bud. "Tasha-"

The nickname slips from your tongue almost too easily, your brain not even recognising it. Natasha, however, does, and she can't believe how amazing it sounds coming from your mouth. "Fuck," she whispers, coming face to face with you again. She looks into your eyes for a long moment before she begins to shift her body, turning yours with it. "Lie down for me, baby," she murmurs, twisting your body to lay down on the couch beneath you. "Just like that."

You let her manoeuvre you to the perfect position, arching slightly as the cold leather of the couch hits your back. Lying back, you watch as Natasha leans over you, placing a few quick kisses to your neck before travelling lower. When she reaches your waistline, her fingers work to unzip the skirt still clinging to your waist. She makes light work of undoing it before beginning to pull it down your legs, placing kisses on your warm flesh as she goes. When the article is tossed aside, the rockstar begins to unfasten the boots still tied to your feet. She removes them quickly, laying them aside and soon letting her own join them.

Then, you watch in awe as the redhead slowly slips her fingers into the waistband of her own shorts, almost making a show out of it as she slips the garment down. Shorts and underwear go at the same time as Natasha strips herself in front of you, smirking as she notices the way you stare. Your eyes never leave her as her body moves back towards the couch, coming to a rest above you as her knees straddle your waist. "You're so hot," you all but mumble, mesmerised by the sight in front of you.

Natasha simply chuckles lowly at your response. "Give me your hand," she says, reaching out towards your wrist. You let her take hold, watching intently as she guides you between her legs. She runs your fingers methodically through her folds, gasping quietly as the touch. She's soaked, slick coating your digits, probably residual from where she had been touching herself earlier. "You feel that? It's all for you, baby." Natasha hums as she guides your hand through her core. You can't help but let your own little noises slip, feeling just how wet she is beneath your touch. Your fingers curl at the ends, dipping into Natasha's centre before you pull them up to rub at her swollen clit. "Ah, fuck," the star moans, pinching her eyes closed. She lets you play with her a bit longer before she eventually pulls your hand away, letting it drop to your side. Instead, she reaches the hand she was using to guide you under your right thigh, squeezing into the flesh gently. "Lift your leg for me," she says, pulling upwards on your thigh.

You let her manoeuvre your leg, holding it up to the side while she adjusts her own body. You watch as one of her legs hooks over your waist, angling herself so that her core is directly above your own. When she sinks down to meet you, a lewd gasp sounds from your mouth, the new sensation electric against your skin. Natasha's cunt is wet against your own, accentuated by the cum that sill coats your sensitive folds.

"Oh my god," you breathe out, entirely in awe at the new feeling of the redhead against you. The star smirks down at you, letting your legs fall back into a relaxed position as she anchors herself to your hips with her hands. When she begins to move against you, the loud moans that escape you coat the entire room.

Her clit brushes beautifully against your own as Natasha rocks her hips back and forth, the noises of your combined wetness thick in the air. "Fuck, you feel so good," the redhead moans out, her own breath becoming shallow as she rolls against you. It doesn't mean that she lets her guard down entirely though, quickly noticing when your head lolls to the side and your eyes squeeze shut. "Eyes on me, beautiful," she directs, reaching out to grasp your face.

You let her turn your chin as you open your eyes back up, drinking in the sight in front of you. Natasha rocks back and forwards against you with a perfect rhythm, her tits bouncing with each new thrust. Natasha sees you watching and reaches for your hands, guiding them up to plump flesh of her chest. You squeeze roughly, savouring the delicate moans that spill from the rockstar's lips.

"God, you're so hot," the redhead murmurs between heavy breaths. "I just can't get enough of you. Maybe I'll just have to bring you along on tour with me, let you be my little groupie."

You moan loudly, not only from the way Natasha's cunt grinds over your swollen clit, but also at the teasing voice and notion of her words. Natasha smirks down at you. "You like that idea, huh?" she husks. "You wanna be my little groupie who I fuck like this after all my shows?"

You don't have the ability to form a response to her, merely putting all of your energy into chasing your combined high. Your back arches off the cold leather of the couch as you try your best to rock your hips against the rockstar's, listening to the sound of your wet cunts grinding desperately against one another. When a particular thrust bumps across your clit, a whine sounds low in the back of your throat. "Tasha-"

The nickname does wonders once again in Natasha's mind, sounding so sweet lacing your tongue. "Fuck," she murmurs, trying to keep up her pace. "I want you to say my name like that when you cum baby, okay?"

You nod weakly, chest heaving. "Good girl." Natasha bucks slightly as your clits brush over one another, her legs twitching by your sides. "Fuck."

The two of you continue to rock against one another, your moans harmonising together as you both climb closer to your climax. Your hands rest upon Natasha's full thighs, gripping for support as the pleasure rolls over you in waves. She clasps at your waist, feeling the thin layer of perspiration coating your skin.

"Fuck," you breathe out. "I think I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me," Natasha finishes, thrusting into you. You do as she says and let that coil loose in your stomach, letting your orgasm shred through you as you all but scream out in pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Tasha."

Her name dripping from your lips sends the redhead over the edge too, rutting against you as she cums hard. "Shit," she mumbles, riding her wave as the combination of your juices blends together and soaks both of your legs.

Both of your bodies tense, movements becoming sloppy as your highs hit. When nearly a minute later, you've both come down from the peak, Natasha slowly untwines your legs from one another. She flops down on the couch beside you, barely enough room for the two of you to lie next to another. For a while you two sit with the combined sounds of your own heavy breaths, both of your bare chests heaving in the warmth of the room.

"Oh my god," you manage to slip out, finally aware of how you've just had the best sex of your life. Nothing could ever compare to what Natasha had just done to you, no other partner ever even coming close to making you cum that hard.

Natasha seeks amusement in your blown out state, clearly enjoying the revelation painted on your face. She rolls her head towards you, her signature smirk making one final appearance. "I told you, you wouldn't regret coming back stage with me."

Your head turns towards her, meeting her widened eyes still dark with lust. You almost want to tell her she's wrong, that all your avoiding earlier had been the right path you go down, but you know it's all bullshit. She was right, there wasn't a single ounce of regret in your bones.

Natasha smiles at your clear agreeance, almost smug in the way she licks her lips. She props herself up on to one arm, leaning over you with those dark emerald eyes. Her fingers come to find the crystal hanging around your neck, rolling the stone between her fingertips as she smiles deeply. Then, she turns back to you, looking as sly as she first had back in that bathroom stall. "Now," she drawls. "About that groupie thing..."

[cb97percent]

Aphrodisiacs · 「Touch」

➥ Massage Therapist!Minho x Client!Reader (f) — 3k

➥ The author chooses not to issue tags for everything that takes place in this work to preserve some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to proceed at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.

⚠ — Unintentionally sensual massage, stigmatophilia (piercing fetishism/mc has one).

➥ Lotus Massage & Healing is all the rage right now, and having a friend that works there has some perks.

“Okay, I have to ask,” you placed your coffee mug on the table, “What’s up with the rise of Lotus Healing lately? That place is fucking everywhere on social media.”

“A famous ASMR content creator visited us a couple of weeks ago, and ever since then we’ve been getting bookings like there’s no tomorrow,” Felix explained as if he was doing a newscast.

“The fuck? You’re getting rich because of tingles?”

“You haven’t seen what my boss looks like, have you?” he grinned and took his phone out. In a matter of seconds, you were looking at the About page of this high end spa’s website, and your jaw hit the floor.

“NO SHIT! This is him?!” you pointed at the zoomed in image of a ridiculously good looking man on the screen while scaring the passing waitress, “I really thought he was some ancient healing guru or something.”

“Well, he’s very much in his prime years as you can see.”

“I need this man to knead me immediately,” you pretended to wipe the drool from the corners of your mouth, “Does he do one of those happy ending things?”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous!” he scolded, seemingly offended, “Lee Minho is a legitimate god of massage therapy. He gets booked by stage performers a lot.”

“Oh, he’s a god alright and he looks like my salvation.” 

“Sorry to break it to you, but he’s not dating material, like at all. He’s so fucking stoic, not to mention highkey egocentric,” an utterly unamused expression climbed on his freckles, “I do get these intrusive thoughts of designing humbling experiences for him every now and then, but the pay is insanely good, so…”

“Can you blame him? If I looked like that, I would have confidence seizures, too.”

Felix’s face changed all of a sudden as if he was having a lightbulb moment. Being such close friends for the longest time, you knew a lot of unnecessarily intimate details about each other, but Felix also knew something about this Lee Minho. Something he casually divulged during some dude talk moment over drinks, but what was important here was that you happened to be in possession of his kryptonite. 

He couldn’t fucking believe this hadn’t occurred to him sooner.

“You know what, I actually have reason to believe he would like you,” he loudly slurped on his coffee.

“Because of ya girl’s infinite charms, why thank you,” you quipped with a pleased smile.

“Something like that,” he smirked in return, “Why don’t you make an appointment for when you’re free? I’ve been meaning to thank you for helping me move anyway.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for, but you’re the fucking man, Lix!”

You snatched his phone from him to check out the appointment schedule on the webpage, but damn, Felix wasn’t exaggerating when he said people were booking like there was no tomorrow.

“Jesus, how the fuck you don’t have anything available until December?!”

“Scratch the formalities. I’m your plug anyway,” he reached for his mug again, “I’ll hook you up with his custom therapy.”

“Custom therapy?”

“That’s the Lee Minho experience,” he winked and finished the rest of his coffee.

The following weekend, you made your way to Lotus Massage & Healing, very much looking forward to some me time being pampered by some man oozing sexiness. The location was in the heart of the city, and you could literally smell the simplistic extravagance of the place from the moment you walked through the door.

“Hi, I’m here for my 2 p.m. appointment?”

“Welcome to Lotus,” you were greeted by the god of massage therapy himself, “My name is Lee Minho. I’m the owner of the establishment.”

Oh, I know who you are, motherfucker, you wanted to say, but your usual antics weren’t exactly appropriate for your friend’s fancy workplace. Instead, you put on the good girl mask and politely smiled at him.

“I have you for custom therapy today, correct?”

You have me for whatever you want actually, the voice in your head commented on your behalf.

“Yes.”

It was hard to believe Minho was real for how good looking he was, but you understood what Felix meant when he was describing his boss. The man was polite, but he wasn’t smiling at all, causing you to wonder whether he was capable of feeling an emotion. Then again he had such an aloof serenity to him that it made perfect sense he was running a business like this.

“Please proceed to Room 3 and undress. I’ll be with you shortly.”

You thanked your prospective therapist and headed to the location you were given. The room looked like it was meant for relaxation. The walls were a very dark shade of brown, almost black, and the soft orange lights illuminating the place provided quite a nice contrast. Placed on a small table next to the massage bed, there were several wooden instruments as well as oil bottles in different sizes and straw-made decorations. Almost inaudible ambient sounds were playing in the background, and it smelled so good inside that the coziness quickly enveloped you. 

You removed all your clothes and put them in a closet, then lay facedown under the soft covers that looked like gray fleece blankets. The material felt so good on your skin. Shortly after, you heard the heavy wooden door open, and you caught a glimpse of Minho’s black scrubs to your left.

“I’ll be giving you a full body treatment today,” he started talking in whispers to let you know about his agenda, “If you’re uncomfortable at any point, please let me know.”

I doubt it, you giggled to yourself inside. You heard the sound of him pumping oil into his palms, rubbing some up to his elbows, and then he established first skin-to-skin contact.

It was like a tornado made landfall.

Minho’s large and veiny hands felt oh so good on your skin, immediately causing you to exhale. Just a few minutes in, you already knew why he was dubbed the god of massage therapy. Slippery but precise movements of his fingers drawing abstract fractals on your back, undoing all the knots you didn’t even know you had, and weirdly enough… 

Arousing you without touching a single erogenous zone.

Sure, this wasn’t the kind of establishment where he fucked his clients, but just having him touch you however he wanted, and the awareness of being at a beautiful stranger’s complete mercy felt like the most oddly erotic experience of your life. Maybe it was the oils, maybe it was the dim lights, maybe it was simply the knowledge of Lee Minho running his hands on your naked body with the sole intention of making you feel good, who knew, but you were unintentionally clenching your jaw to stop yourself from making questionable sounds.

“Please don’t restrain yourself if it feels pleasurable. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he spoke very softly, noticing the tenseness, “It just means you’re enjoying it.”

“I don’t want people to think something else is going on inside,” you admitted, kinda glad he wasn’t able to see your face, “It feels a bit too good.”

“Our walls are soundproof. Please be comfortable.”

Well… Since he asked...

His touch became firmer like he was encouraging you to let loose, and you couldn’t help the high note of a moan your sigh started with before receding into a mute breath. If you looked into his eyes at that moment, you would be able to see how satisfied he was with the reaction he elicited.

The moment you felt the flat surface of hot stones gliding on your back, Minho started properly pushing you into a comatose state of relaxation. You were wondering if death by massage was at all possible because it was that good. You were simply melting on that table, the sounds of delight you were making concerningly bordering on sexual gratification by the time he was done with your legs.

“Now turn around,” he whispered his instructions.

There was only one untouched zone left. You couldn’t dare open your eyes as Minho was working your torso, hands slithering all over you like a pair of snakes replacing the discomfort in your body with some poison of pleasure. Your anticipation inadvertently peaked when he finally reached your crotch. 

The room was so freaking silent that the slightest rustle was amplified in your ears sixfold. When he slowly removed the soft material covering you from the waist down, there was no mistake that Minho gulped.

The unexpected sight of a piece of minimalistic accessory adorning your pussy shocked his entire body like a bolt of lightning.

“Christina?” he nonchalantly asked.

“Hm?” you hummed a bit dazed, currently fighting the urge to fall asleep.

“Your piercing.”

“Wow, you namedropped,” you smiled stupidly, “You know your stuff, huh?”

“I’m an intimate jewelry aficionado,” he continued in whispers, “I don’t mean to be crass, but it makes you look even prettier.”

So this was what Felix meant when he said he had reason to believe Minho would like you. You as in your pussy. 

Aficionado my ass, you thought to yourself while internally laughing your ass off. Minho had a very obvious fetish he was normal about, but you still found it super flattering coming from a guy like him, the god of therapy or sex or who the fuck knows what else.

“Thank you very much,” you heaved a sigh through your smirk, “You can feel it if the fancy strikes.”

If the fancy strikes. 

Not only did Minho have complete tunnel vision on the titanium-plated jewelry, but he was also in the middle of a hardcore battle with his urges, chastising himself for being so fucking weak for something like this, not to mention utterly unprofessional. He was suffering from such a horrible case of acute onset desire that he was on the literal brink of throwing himself at you. 

Did issuing a trigger warning for extreme sexiness occur to you by any chance? 

Before soaking his hands in oil again, Minho maneuvered to slide his index and ring fingers down your labia, careful not to make contact with your clit for his own sanity even though both of you were longing for that touch. Your folds were already glistening with your arousal, making him heavily salivate with how much he was craving for it on his tongue. He discreetly stained the tip of his middle finger with you, then turned around to allegedly pump some oil in his palms whereas he just wanted to scratch an unbearable itch in his brain.

Not that he had any experience with narcotics, but he was convinced this was what heroin fiends felt like for how instantly addictive your taste was, and he was going to lose his mind if he couldn’t coat his tongue with your slick through and through.

He took a deep breath and started massaging your inner thighs first. It was a healing touch, but you couldn’t help how your body tensed up no matter how much you were trying to relax. Every time he got closer to your pussy, your breathing patterns changed, suddenly becoming much more frequent, then retreating to its basal rhythm again. It wasn’t long before the awareness hit—this feeling was uncannily similar to having a partner edge you for their own pleasure.

This wasn’t some tantric massage technique or anything anymore. He was legitimately playing with you, and you wanted him to get wetter, messier, just fuck the shit out of you on that table, and use you to satiate his own appetite.

But he wasn’t making a move. 

You didn’t know if it was against some mighty principle or if he just couldn’t find the courage to go through with it. You were trying to find the right words to tell him that you would keep this little secret between you two as long as you lived, that he had nothing to worry about, and that all you needed was his mouth on you, but your mind had stopped working some time ago. All you could process was Minho’s touch. His breathing. The way he kept subtly licking his lips and how his Adam’s apple bobbed every time he swallowed. You were so damn turned on that weren’t able to tell anymore if it was the pleasant-scented oils or your own slick covering you between your legs. Minho’s sharp sense of smell, on the other hand, was snitching on how he was able to get you this wet, which served as a phantom touch that stroked his ego and his cock at the same time.

And even though he had a completely expressionless façade, Minho’s professionalism still couldn’t stop him from getting embarrassingly hard, throbbing every time his fingers caressed your piercing. He was done with the session maybe five minutes ago, but he kept dragging it on to admire you just a little bit longer, and with each drop oozing out of you, he found himself contemplating harder. 

Was your taste worth risking his whole entire reputation and career for?

In the battle of logic versus lust, the latter had already declared a bloody triumph. All he needed to do was to take the loss with grace and surrender. 

So did you.

Minho’s ministrations came to a halt, and he was looking at your soaked cunt like he was in a trance, eyes glassy, pupils blown wide, lips parted and slightly panting. He brushed his thumb over your clit once, overcome with the urge to suck on it, and even though you were visibly clenching, he was just too stunned to act on it.

And you ran out of fucking patience.

“Do it,” you breathily uttered, leaving absolutely no room for any doubt or second thoughts.

One look into your eyes, and Minho’s entire train of thought immediately derailed. You shouldn’t have said that. You really shouldn’t have said that. You shouldn’t have looked at him with that much fire in your gaze. You shouldn’t have sounded like he was everything you ever desired. 

As if he was possessed, Minho pressed two fingers on your clit and started rubbing you. Your moans were getting more and more desperate, and it was just so fucking tempting. His eyes were examining your every move, how your body was reacting to him, how good he was making you feel, and he could only promise to make you feel better. You eventually couldn’t stand it anymore and propped up on your elbows.

“Taste me,” you firmly commanded looking dead into his eyes.

And he lost all control.

Was your taste worth risking his whole entire reputation and career for?

Yes. Yes, it was. It fucking was.

He sinisterly smiled at you in response, and you watched him lower his head and fucking finally give you what you were in dire need of. A single slow drag of his tongue from your entrance all the way up to your clit, punctuated with a soft suck.

“Never thought I would describe taste as pretty, but that’s what you taste like,” Minho spoke a bit more audibly than a whisper this time, “You taste as fucking pretty as your pussy.”

Then he immediately proceeded to ravage you, closing his entire mouth on your cunt. Just kissing, licking, and slurping on you so eagerly as though he was touch-starved for years. You may have said that half-jokingly, but turns out you were going to get your happy ending after all. Happy ending but it was in hell and you were forever burning in the fires of lust consuming you, bestowed with a climax every time you fucking blinked.

And that was the only right way to die. Between Minho’s perfectly plush lips.

You were already so on edge that you instinctively put your hands on his head, which prompted him to lock his arms on your thighs and bury himself deeper into you. You rode his beautiful face faster and faster and faster, hurrying to get your sweet release until you finally snapped, dissolving in his mouth and offering him the most intense notes of your essence. The afterglow of your orgasm slowly spread throughout your entire body, and combined with the already relaxed state you were in, you were almost on the brink of passing out. Minho came into your vision again with a tall glass of water, and you felt every single one of your cells being rejuvenated with the cool liquid rushing down your esophagus. With a pleased smile on his face, he left you by yourself to gather your wits and get dressed, and greeted you in the hallway after you emerged from Room 3.

“Satisfied with the service I presume?”

“Very much,” you reciprocated the curls at the corners of his mouth, “I would love to come in frequently, but I understand you’re quite booked.”

“I take after-hours appointments if you’re interested.”

“Do you now?”

You shared a silent look that lasted several seconds, your smiles still intact. Then Minho took out something that looked like a business card printed on matte black paper from his back pocket and handed it to you.

“This is my personal number. The private booking comes with a side benefit of a nice dinner,” he checked you out one last time from head to toe before leaving, “Call me.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Happy endings never felt so good.

「© 2021-2024, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

✉ Enjoyed this? It would be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

[tac-the-unseen]

Hey how are you doing 👋🏽

I have a request, can you do a Thomas Hewitt x pregnant reader, just pure fluff

I bet that man would be a good father idk

Thomas Hewitt x pregnant Reader Headcannons

@diablosinners

CW: Pregnancy Difficulties, Child birth, Minor misogyny, extremely minor mention of Abortion (Like it's not said but implied)

Minor Angst and Fluff (It gets better I promise)

•When you found out about your pregnancy the first person you told wasn't Tommy, it was Luda Mae

•You told Luda the news and she was delighted

•You were panicked

•Not only was this your first baby, it was an unplanned one

•Your family has a history of trouble-some pregnancies and with the nearest hospital being hours away, this possibilities really frighten you

•Luda had to calm you down and stop you from almost stress vomiting on yourself

•She sat with you as you sobbed and tried to collect yourself enough to make some kind of plan

•You talked about your options and while she was trying to sway to one way, she said it was ultimately your choice

•You both decided to wait two weeks before telling anybody

•You didn't want to get anyone's hopes up just in case something happened to you or the new-comer growing inside of you

•after the two weeks have passed you waited for Thomas to get done working for the night so you can tell him

•When he walked through the door to see you sitting in a rocking chair he was slightly confused

•Normally you're upstairs or in the kitchen

•He wasn't worried it was simply just out of the ordinary

•You got up and guided him up the stairs and into your shared bedroom

•You sit him down and slowly introduce the topic into the conversation before making your rehearsed announcement

•He was silent for a few seconds, just long enough to let your panic sleep into your bones

•A cool chill runs through you and you begin to back petal

•You tell him how long you knew and all the options you have

•You’re quickly to ramble on about how you don't need to have right this minute and you could wait for later down if that's what Thomas needed

•Thomas listens to your quickly and panicked speech for a little bit before gently grabbing your shoulders and turning you towards him

•He leans over and softly kisses your forehead

•He runs a hand down to your stomach and gently rubs the side

•His one gentle kiss turned into multiple fast pecks all over your face.

•He was excited

•It took him just hours to already make plans for what he wanted to do with his future child

•He was comforting you at every turn and freaked out Everytime you bumped into a countertop or a wall.

•Thomas practically stood over you all day everyday

•He wants to always have you in his sights, for his peace of mind and yours

•He brings you drawings of what crib, rocking chairs, and wood carved mobile he wants to hang over the crib

•He lets you watch and values your opinion over everyone else. When asked by other family members why, Thomas points to you as if to say ‘They’re the pregnant one.’

•When you started to show he would occasionally gently lift your belly to relieve you of the weight the baby puts on your back.

•He never really liked leaving the house and normally left that up to his brothers, but he wanted to help with the baby shopping

•he gently holds out baby blankets he thinks you'll like, but keeps in mind that Luda-Mae has be fiercely crocheting baby blankets and sewing baby clothes

•He actually cries when you hold up the little baby booties and compares them to his huge palm.

•He carries all the bags to your car and lets you drive him home with the yellow booties still in his hands.

•You fought hard to let the other Hewitts know you were giving birth in an actual hospital

•Everytime the birth was brought up it turned into a huge argument. “Every Hewitt was born in this house and they will continue to be born in this house!” Charlie and Monty argued

•You kept bring up your side of the family's history and how you're not willing to die and leave the baby with a house full of psychos no matter how much they tried to deter you

•When you eventually went into labor Luda was quickly to Hussle you and Tommy into the car

•Both of them respected your wishes and understood your concerns and allow you to give birth in the hospital a two hours away

•By the time you got there you were 8 cm dilated and every nurse was scrambling to get you a room and a doctor to deliver your baby safely

•It was bloody, tiring, and the most pain you've ever been in but by the time the baby was out you passed out

•They rushed to stitch you up and stop you from hemorrhaging and had to use their hands to assist you delivering the placenta

•When all's said and done your baby was safely in your arms

•Luda brought a camera to take birthing pictures and Thomas was clutching all the baby blankets

•Thomas was terrified by your body seemingly giving out and when informed you easily could have died, He was relieved he actually listened to you and not his noodle brained brothers

•while it was great to have your baby in your arms, you were in desperate need of sleep, so the baby was pawned off to Luda so she could help Thomas hold his new-born for the first time

•That moment was magical for him, and even though his mind was already made up, he knew he would die for this child if it ever came to that

•Luda left the room briefly to use the bathroom and That left Tommy with the smallest human being he's ever seen wrapped up in the hospital’s white with pink and blue striped blanket.

•The quiet of the room was what made him sob

•His sleeping partner and sleeping child all together as a family was enough to break him

•The car ride home a few days later was also silent

•He sat in the back seat with the baby's car seat watching as the hum and the vibrations of the car lull the child asleep

•He did leave that baby’s side for a second

•He was there when the baby cried, when the baby slept, when the baby needed a diaper change, he was there for every moment

•Until His brothers bitched at him to start working again

•Thomas, while wanting to stay with you and the baby, did understand he was the muscle of the house and he had work to do to maintain it

•He worked as fast as he could so he could be with you two again

•You had secretly been teaching your baby to say Dada because you know how hard Thomas is working and how dedicated he is to his family.

•When the child did say their first words ‘Dada’ Thomas actually ran around the living room as a victory lap.

•All that made better by your Child giggling

•Thomas has made toys out of bones, yes they are properly cleaned, he doesn't want to get his baby sick

•Nobody but You, Thomas, And Luda are allowed to hold the baby, He knows how harsh and clumsy his Brothers are and refuses to let them touch the baby

•Thomas isn't normal one to argue with his family but he made a vow to protect you and his children and by God he will kill Monty if it comes to it

•It really won't, But now Monty and Charlie know his serious

Thanks for reading <3

I wrote this fic with a little angst because I feel like every Leatherface x Reader is pregnancy related. I didn't want to re-write what many before me have written so I added minor Angst to at least make it different/Stand out.

Also I'm just not a huge fan of Pregnancy fics in general. Kinda gives me the ick, but I'm not one to disappoint someone who wanted my take of a fic!

[enbysiriusblack]

Good Cop/Bad Cop

Lily slammed her hands on the desk, "It is unacceptable to skive off your duties! The next prefect to not show up, I'll deck! Don't think I won't! I'll also rip that badge right off, because clearly you don't deserve it! Now which one of was supposed to be on patrol last night?!"

James started to pass round a plate of biscuits, "We understand if you've got something more important or you just forgot. Don't worry, it happens to everyone, alright? You won't get in trouble for a simple mistake, yeah? We just need to know to make sure everyone's alright and sorted for next week."

"No!" Lily reached over the desk and grabbed the plate of biscuits, "No snacks until we find out who decided to skive off their duty!"

James leaned over and whispered to Lily, "Can we switch yet?"

She nodded.

James instantly grabbed a biscuit and threw it on the ground, "If you don't own up this second then all of you are getting removed as prefects!"

Lily sighed, "Sorry about my partner, you won't all be getting removed. I trust you all greatly, and I'm sure whoever skived had a good excuse."

"We already know who it was!"

"No, we don't."

James nodded, "We do", he slowly walked forwards to one of the ravenclaw prefects in the year below, "You were listed for duty last night... and yet you never showed up! Admit it!"

The prefect leaned backwards, "I- I was there, I swear."

Lily smiled, "Of course you were, we trust you."

James kept his eyes squinted on the prefect as he mouthed, "No we don't."

A student in the back of the room lifted their arm up, "It was me, I was ill."

"Oh", James straightened up, "Well that's fine."

Lily nodded, "Just please tell one of us or get one of your roommates to tell us next time."

"Meeting over."

As the students filed out, James turned around to Lily and leaned over the desk she was sat at.

"Yes?"

"I can't believe you told someone else that you'd deck them, thought that was just an us thing."

Lily laughed, "I'm afraid not, I said it to Wilkes just last week."

James grinned, "You ever actually done it?"

"Last week."

"Hot."

"Punching someone is hot, is it?" Lily raised her eyebrows, "I don't think you should be condoning violence as head boy."

"I trust that he deserved it."

"Oh, he did... y'know we're going to have to clean up those biscuits now."

"I'll do it", James shrugged, grabbing his wand out its holster, "I'm brilliant at the sweeping charm."

"Showing off, are you?"

"You know me."

Lily grabbed his tie and pulled him for a quick kiss, "Hot."

[not-poignant]

Hi! Big fan of your work and writing blog :) I have a question re: fanfic reception. I like writing fanfics about villains on the receiving end of noncon, and I sometimes get feedback that makes me feel weird and I dunno how to respond to it? It’s along the lines of "thanks for giving [character] the pain they deserve" "it’s good that you aren’t nice to [character] like those other fanfic writers". (Part 1…)

(Part 2…)I kind of feel like they’re complimenting my morals instead of my writing, but I also could be overreacting, because I mean it’s fine to seek out fics where a character you hate gets tortured? No hurry answering this, and thanks in advance if you do. I hope you’re doing alright on your break from UtB. I am using the time to reread and am loving it!

~

Hi anon!

Oh this is an interesting quandary to be in, because I'm certain at least some of those people are very much being moralistic about it.

Tbh when it's 'thanks for giving (character) the pain they deserve' you can probably ignore that if you want, because yeah, they might have revenge fantasies and find that very satisfying.

But when you get people going 'thanks for being mean / not nice to this character like other writers' - if you're the kind of person who responds to comments and feels uncomfortable when someone is using your space to shame other authors (because that's exactly what's happening) you can choose - if you want - to take the time to say 'I have no problems when people enjoy this character being hurt, however, I do not tolerate when folks shame other authors and readers for what they enjoy in fiction. Please don't compliment my fic by putting down other people, that's not what a compliment is' or something similar.

As soon as a reader brings in other people and shames them, that's absolutely when you can take a stand and see a clear issue.

I see this a lot for two different things:

Writing realistic kink, and so many readers being like 'omg thanks for writing realistic kink there's so much unrealistic trash on here' and these days I always make a point of saying 'oh thanks! but I write and love unrealistic trash too. This is a fictional site and no one should be expected to write realistic kink here!' It shuts people down amazingly fast. But also makes them realise that perhaps they just shouldn't be throwing stones when we're all in a very glass castle on AO3 lmao

Writing realistic trauma recovery, so like 'thanks for showing how awful and evil rape can be unlike those people who write it for fun' - now how I end up with these readers with my actual writing history, I don't know, but I take the same approach of like 'thanks BUT I LOVE writing rape as titillation! I enjoy both!'

You don't have to be as blunt as me, and you don't have to address it at all, but any reader who shames other authors or readers in your comment section can be addressed directly because it's just a shitty thing to do. And people don't say shit like that in public if they don't secretly hope that one of those people will see the comment and feel bad about what they like.

So yeah, with your first example, they could be feeling moralistic, or they could just want a revenge fantasy and really enjoy noncon! The second example is a clear cut example of shaming, or stepping on other people to pass you a compliment, and you're never ever over-reacting when that makes you feel uncomfortable, or makes you feel like it's not really a compliment. Because all it really is, is a version of: 'you passed my moral standards, thanks' and that's not actually a compliment at all. (Or like you say, it's complimenting your morals, it's like having a weird fandom policeman come by and glare at you and be like '....okay you're committing no crimes, as you were' and moving on. It's just weird).

Anyway *shakes hands for weird comments that shame other readers/authors in the form of a compliment* - I do think you're right to feel uncomfortable at least sometimes when this happens. It's up to you how you choose to address or not address it, but I will say personally that if you aren't going to address it in comments, maaaaybe consider deleting the ones that shame other readers/authors, so that when those people read your fics they don't feel alienated. It's obviously your choice! But just something to consider if you want to be curating your space. And best of luck writing all the noncon-villain fics! They can be a lot of fun :D

[coraniaid]

Do you think Kendra's Watcher knew Drusilla was destined to kill her when he sent her to Sunnydale? Was Sam Zabuto surprised when his Slayer came back alive the first time? Was he surprised when she didn't come back the second time?

Think about What's My Line? and Becoming from Kendra's point of view. Compare it to Buffy's experience of fighting the Master in Season 1's Prophecy Girl, especially if she hadn't stumbled on Angel and Giles talking about her behind her back.

Buffy's Watcher knows that Sunnydale is on a Hellmouth, and that a terrible evil is about to rise from it. A very dark power, you might say. The Master. Giles has been preparing Buffy to fight the Master all year, trying to track down as much information as he can about the Master and all the "salient books of Slayer prophecy". Thanks to Angel, he tracks down a copy of Pergamum Codex. He cross-checks it against "all [his] other volumes". It's very plain: the Master shall rise, and the Slayer shall die.

He doesn't want to believe it. Isn't it his duty to protect her? But, as he said in Nightmares, just a couple of episodes earlier, when confronted with a vision of her death: "[Buffy] was so gifted. And the evil was so great." He knows what will happen if the Master rises. Buffy wants to quit, but Giles urges her not to.

"Were you even going to tell me?" Buffy asks Giles when she finds out, and he doesn't say yes. He was "hoping that he wouldn't have to". He was looking for "some way around it". But he also knows that the prophecy says that Buffy was going to face the Master tomorrow. That doesn't leave him a lot of time left to let her know. He'd already passed up on at least one chance to tell her.

And when Buffy does go to fight the Master, after she loses and he has the Slayer hypnotized and helpless and moments away from death, what happens? The vampire taunts her with the prospect that this was all for nothing; that her actions were worse than useless. That he can only escape the Hellmouth at all because of the strength he'll get from feeding on her. "You heard the prophecy [...] and you came to stop me. But prophecies are tricky creatures [...] You're the one that sets me free."

Now back to Kendra and Drusilla.

Why is Kendra in Sunnydale at all in What's My Line? It's not to save Buffy from the Order of Taraka, although she does do that. Kendra wasn't told that Buffy even existed; maybe Mr Zabuto didn't know about Buffy either. But Kendra, she tells us herself, was sent to Sunnydale "for a reason". Her Watcher told her that "all the signs indicate[d] that a very dark power [was] about to rise in Sunnydale".

Doesn't that sound ... familiar? It's almost the same reason Kendra will give again in Becoming for why she's been sent back in Sunnydale, too. Just like Giles, Sam Zabuto has been looking for prophecies and portents. And maybe, just like Giles, there were some details in those prophecies he was hoping against hope he wouldn't ever have to tell his Slayer.

If Kendra's "dark power" is meant to be Drusilla -- honestly, it could easily be Angel losing his soul or the Judge or even Acathla, I think, but Drusilla is the threat everyone in Sunnydale assumes the signs are warning Mr Zabuto about -- it's also worth noting that Kendra doesn't actually mange to do anything to stop her. Spike succeeds in his mission to restore Drusilla to health. Yes, Kendra does some good, but she doesn't achieve the aim her mission apparently sent her to Sunnydale to complete. The dark power still rises.

Worse, if Kendra doesn't come to Sunnydale, she doesn't make the (frankly very odd) decision to lock Angel up in an eastern-facing room in Willy's Place (despite apparently being able to sense that the bar's owner is "dirty" and potentially in league with vampires). You have to wonder if "leave defeated and vulnerable vampires alive for hours and in a strong position to be rescued by their nearby allies, while you go off hunting for more potential vampires" is the sort of advice the Slayer Handbook gives its readers, and if so whether maybe this means Giles was right not to use it for Buffy's training. But if Angel isn't weak and helpess waiting for the sun to come up, Willy obviously can't hand him over to Spike. If it came to it, could Spike or any of his underlings expect to beat Angel is a straight fight? Could they track him down in time? Do they even know where he lives?

If Kendra doesn't come to Sunnydale, does the ritual to restore Drusilla to full health even happen? Does the newly restored Drusilla decide to re-assemble the scattered pieces of the Judge? Do Buffy and Angel risk their lives trying to stop this from happening? Does Angel abandon this objective to jump into the water and rescue Buffy? Does he take her back to his place to recover? Does Angel lose his soul? Do Angel and Drusilla unearth Acathla? Does Kendra get sent back to Sunnydale for a second time?

Is it that much of a stretch to imagine Drusilla leaning in close to Kendra -- while the Slayer is hypnotised and helpess and moments away from death -- and reminding her that prophecies are tricky creatures? To imagine her whispering that "You heard the prophecy and you came to stop me ... but you're the one who set me free"?

[pachu09]

Misinterpretation

Madara stared at him with a complicated look on his face. Tobirama couldn't pinpoint what his Husband's expression is...all he can assumed is that the man is...somehow beyond upset.

Izuna looked at him as if he betrayed them.

And Tobirama doesn't know why his Brother in Law was shooting him that kind of look.

All he did was he made a gagging motion as he smelled the tempura Madara had ordered from the Akimichi restaurant. He knew why he reacted like that, but he's not yet sure if what he suspects is actually true.

He would need Anija's expertise to find out if his suspicions are correct but he couldn't cause for another three weeks his Brother is visiting Uzushio after years of not doing so.

He waved his hand at his Husband and pinch his nose as he avoided in smelling the frankly disgusting smell of tempura. (Tobirama silently despaired that he can't eat one of his favorite foods since a few weeks ago).

" Tobirama. What in the Sage's name?. What is happening to you?. Are you *sick*?!. "

Tobirama is weirded out at Izuna at Madara's reaction of the word *sick*. The Brothers had a terrified look on their faces and the Albino thought its the Uchiha extraness that is kicking in again.

He hesitated to tell what's his speculation is. It took a few seconds of silence on his part that Tobirama watches with startled eyes as his Husband burst into tears and asked him with heaving sobs if he's dying.

Izuna clutching his shoulders and shaking him made Tobirama feel all the more nauseous. He had to swat the man's hands away from him to stop lzuna's ridiculous antic.

" Stop!. Stop, Izuna!. For the love of the Sage!. I am not dying! I'm fucking pregnant! You imbeciles!. " He finally snap irritably.

Cue a few seconds of deadly silence...and then Tobirama watches with dismayed eyes as his Husband and Brother in Law fainted together.

~●~●~

Tobirama later found out that the reason why Madara and Izuna looked terrified at the thought of him getting sick is that because their Mother passed away from an unknown sickness after she gave birth to their youngest sibling who also died at birth.

A week later, Tobirama deeply regretted on agreeing that his Husband and Brother in Law can dote on him. Because apparently Uchiha doting is quite...daunting and exhausting. He can't even go out of the Compound without one of the siblings escorting him. Or he can't put any food in his mouth without the two tasting it first ( for just in case scenarios ) , or he can't even talk to any Shinobi he had to talk to ( because, what if they're hidden spies! Wife! ). Frankly, Tobirama didn't know if he can put up for nine months with the non stop hovering of the Uchiha Brothers. He wanted to sometimes snap at them but then he always remembered his Husband's and Brother in Law's terrified faces and he'll be back to square one at enduring their version of pampering him.

For now, he's just clutching at the hope that when Anija comes back, he can straighten out his frankly ( traumatized ) Family.

[delilahcalicocat]

{Home.}

{Rating: Mainly Fluff, Smut.}

{Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Swearing, Dom/Sub Dynamic, Kissing, Hugging}

{Pairing: Cody Rhodes x Fem!Reader}

{Tag list❤️✨️💗: @alyyaanna @nightmare-viper}

★~★~★~★~★~★~★~★~★~★~★~★~★~★~

Many weeks had passed, you were unable to sleep some nights, you were exhausted. Your eye bags showed that fact of being unable to sleep, you couldn't admit it. But you missed your boyfriend.

But he wouldn't be home for another three weeks. It was to the point where you'd fall asleep on FaceTime calls with him. His voice was so soothing to you.

Cody wasn't going to tell you, but he was coming home early. He came back at 5:36am, he walked into the house. To see you and Pharoah snuggling on the couch both asleep.

He stayed silent and put everything away, it was still early. So he set his alarm on his phone for 10:00am. So he'd get a little sleep at least.

His main priority was making sure you actually slept. Cody laid his head down on his pillow and drifted off to sleep.

◆~◆~◆~◆~◆~◆~◆~◆~◆~◆~◆~◆~◆~◆~◆~◆~

He awoke to his alarm at 10:00am, you weren't awake yet still asleep on the couch. The TV faintly playing the infamous movie 'John Wick'. You seemed to have fallen asleep watching the movie. Since you had the remote nearby.

Cody walked over to the couch, and moved the remote away from you gently as not to wake you. Since you were so peaceful. It looked like you fell asleep right before he walked in.

He went back upstairs and fed Pharoah, then he came back downstairs and sat at the dining room table. and filled out a couple papers for the meet and greet that was in two weeks.

He headed back upstairs to go print out something, on his way back down. He heard you softly mumble and saw you shift in your spot.

you grumbled softly, before sitting up.

"Fuck... what time is it? I fell asleep at 4:10am.." You said, getting ready to get up.

you looked at the time and it read '10:05am'

"Ugh.. I'm still tired.. but I have to feed Pharoah." You sighed, standing up

"No you don't love, I already fed him." Cody said

"Cody.. I thought you weren't coming home for another three weeks?" You said surprised

"I got home early, Jimmy Uso got injured at the house show. So everyone got two weeks off. As a result of that happening." Cody sighed

"Oh.. Ok... what time did you come in..?" You asked

"5:36am.. I went to sleep before getting up at 10:00am" Cody explained

"Sorry I wasn't up before you came home.. I was just tired and fell asleep with Pharaoh since he wanted pets.." You said.

"It's fine, love. I understand your tired when your tired." Cody said

You and him spoke a little longer. And you hugged him as soon as he walked over to you.

you were so happy he was home..

Next thing you know, your pinned to the bed. Moaning and begging for release. As Cody fucked up into you harder.

"Please... Master..." You whimpered

"Just a little longer, m'kay princess?" Cody said

"M'kay..." You said

He fucked up into you harder and faster, making you physically see stars. But you missed the feeling so you'd let it go..

"Sh-Shit... please... master...." You couldn't hold it any longer, you wanted to burst into tears.

"Cum. Go on." His words sent you over the edge, with a moan of his name. You came.

"F...fuc...fuck..." You said wearily

Cody continued to fuck you through your orgasm, making you moan with each thrust.

You were a mess at that point. The cries and pleads turning into moans and begs

"S...Si...Sir..." You cried

"Yes Princess?" He asked

You tried to say something but your brain was so heated you couldn't say anything.

He fucked up into you once more, making you moan. And you came a second time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~❤️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were on your 12th orgasm of the night...

Cody basically forced 9 of the 12.

But you didn't care, you were exhausted after everything ended. Cody pulled you up gently and ran a bath for you. Got everything that was messy cleaned.

You glanced at the clock and it read: '11:59pm'

Your body settled down in the tub immediately, you relaxed..

The overstimulation washing away. You did a couple deep breaths.

You got out of the bath, and Cody had your clothes already set aside for you. The usual.

His shirt, your shorts, his hoodie.

As soon as you got in the bed, you wanted to fall asleep. You rolled towards Cody and fell asleep while listening to his heartbeat..

[samandcolbyownme]

Prompt: someone takes reader to the airport, but only to have their car break down on the way.

Warnings: swearing, angsty? Fluffy, kissing, confessions of love, suggestive language

Enjoy!

══════════════════

The look on Matt’s face when you told the triplets you accepted the job in London, absolutely devistated you.

You knew you needed to go, you also knew that the feelings you once had for him haven’t gone away either.

The decision to break up and stay friends, was mutual, but you both know, that to this day, it was still the worst decision you both ever agreed on.

The days leading up to your flight were heartbreaking as you spent time with your few close friends and of course, the three boys you grew up with.

Each time you left, Matt went to his room before you were out the door. You spent nights out in your car talking to Nick about everything, and he agrees that you should go, it’ll be best for everyone.

One thing Nick said to you one of the nights was as follows, "The Universe sends us exactly what we are ready for at the exact time we need it in our lives.”

It stuck with you since, but you felt like you were overthinking it, at times, like when Matt didn’t go straight to his room the night before you were set to leave.

Or when you got that phone call from your friend saying she couldn’t take you to the airport, family emergency so you let it slide.

You were in a panic. Every one you called was already booked and busy.

Expect one.

You let out a sigh as you tap on Matt’s name, your heart racing as you hear the first ring.

“Hello.”

“Matt?” You ask, not even bothering to hide your nervousness that shakes within your words, “Sorry it’s.. so late..”

“Don’t be. What’s going on?” He asks, voice slightly raspy. It was clear that you had woken him up, “Um, I was just..” you pause before letting out a sigh, “Nevermind. I’m sorry for wa-“

“No.” He raises his voice slightly and sighs, “I-I mean, No. you don’t have to go, y/n. What’s going on? A-Are you in trouble?”

“No I- well. Actually, yeah.. kind of.” You give in, “I need a ride to the airport tomorrow night.”

The line is silent for a few seconds before Matt answers, “It’ll be just me if that’s okay. Chris and nick are going to a party.”

“If you’ll need to pi-“

“Y/n.” Matt cuts you off, his voice lower, almost a whisper, “Please let me do this.”

You close your eyes, taking in a quiet breath, “Okay.”

——

When you opened your front door, Matt was standing there with a, clearly forced, smile, “Hi.”

You press your lips together and give him a small smile as you wheel your two suitcases out of the door. You sling your carry on over your shoulder and by the time you look back, Matt is already walking to the car with your cases.

You were dreading this.

A lot could happen in the hour from your house to the air port.

“Which airport?” He asks as he grabs his phone to pull up the maps. You lick your lips, “Um, it’s LAX.” He nods, tapping his phone before setting it down.

The first twenty minutes of the drive was silent, nothing but the other cars passing and the music playing on the radio filled the tension filled silence.

“So did you just ask me because you didn’t have anyone else?”

His question, the way he asked it, sounded awful of you. You look over at him, “I didn’t want to have to ask you.”

“Why?” He glances over at you and you look away, “I just.. with how you acted when and ever since I told you about London...” You look over at him, he’s looking away, “Matt, the way your face sank..“ you lower your voice, “It broke my heart.”

“Being told you’re losing someone you don’t want to lose and not being able to do anything to stop it is also enough to break someone’s heart.”

You close your eyes, the burn from the tears welling in them cause you to tense up for a second but both of your attention is taken away to the car when it starts to sputter and you both jolt forward.

“What the fuck?” Matt curses as he veers off the road. He puts his four ways on and you look in the mirror and over at him, “What the hell happened?”

He shrugs, turning the car off and trying to start again but the engine just clicks and then it goes silent.

He does look at you, “Are you okay?”

You glance over at him, frowning when you see that he isn’t looking your way, “Yeah. I’m fine. I just-“ you look at the time, “I have to be at my gate in twenty five minutes.”

“Okay, okay.” Matt grabs his phone, “Can you call Nick and tell him that I’ll be late to get them?”

You nod, calling Nick while he figures out the car.

“Miss me already?” Nick asks as he answers. You roll your eyes, laughing slightly, “I mean yeah, but that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Um okay?”

“Matt’s car broke down, we’re like I don’t know..” you glance over at Matt who has his phone pressed to his ear, “Like twenty ish minutes away.”

“Y/n, your plane takes off in twenty ish minutes.” Nick mocks you, “Is Matt calling someone? I don’t-“

You hear Nick fill chris in and Matt starts speaking, “Yeah, I’m about twenty minutes away from the LAX Airport..” he hums, pulling the phone away from his ear as he tells them what street you’re on.

“Okay. Thank you. Mhm.” He hands up and tosses his phone into the cupholder. You turn your attention back to Nick, “Hold on.”

“They said they can get someone out here to look at it as soon as they can. She said it could be up to an hour.”

All you hear is Nick say, “The universe, babe. It’s on your side.” Then the three beeps.

You pull your phone away from your ear and stare down at your lap.

“What did Nick say?”

Matt’s voice snaps you out of your daze, “Oh, um. They said that.. they’ll find a way home.” You look over at him, “Do you.. I don’t know.. ever have moments, where you’re like.. wow the universe actually loves me?”

You look over at him, laughing anxiously. Matt gives you a confused look, “What are you saying?”

You turn towards him, glancing back at your bags in the back seat, “I’m saying.. maybe Nick was right.”

“About?” He raises his brows and you look back up at him, “A few nights ago, Nick told me something.” You laugh slightly, “He said something about how the universe will send us what we are ready for right when we need it most and-“

Matt leans over, cutting your words short with his lips on yours. His hands slide to your cheeks, holding your face gently as he deepens the kiss before pulling his lips away from yours, “You’re right where you’re meant to be.”

You give him a slight nod as your hand comes up to lay on his, eyes looking between his and his lips, “With you.”

He smirks, a smile forming as he grips your chin, “With me.”

══════════════════

I hope you liked this, let me know what you thought! As always, I love you! 🖤 thank you for reading!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[heewoonie]

𝓙𝓔𝓐𝓛𝓞𝓤𝓢 - Park Sunghoon

pairing : jealous!sunghoon x reader

warnings : smut, unprotected sex, choking, 📷, dacryphilia, creampie (lmk if i missed any)

this is my first fanfic + i'm not fluent in english so please don't be harsh on me!! 💙

Sunghoon was the type to be jealous over anything. Talking with some boy other than him was enough to put him over the edge and you knew it damn well. The way he looked at you and that random guy who casually asked for your number because he thought that you're single. How wrong he was... Well, you decided to give him that damn phone number simply because you wanted to tease your boyfriend a little bit. When sunghoon saw you passing your phone to him that's when he felt like he was going to kill you.

When you both arrived at home the first thing that he did was kissing you agrressively until you couldn't breathe.

"You think you're funny? Giving him your number in front of me? God, you're such a slut actually." Sunghoon said as he started marking your neck purposely leaving hickeys to show everyone who you belong to.

"No, it's not like that" You tried to explain but the boy didn't let you as he shoved his two fingers in your mouth making you gag.

"I saw what i saw, I'm not dumb Y/N"

As soon as those words left his mouth he carried you through the bedroom and pushed you on the bed

"If you wanted my attention so badly you could have just said that"

In the blink of an eye all your clothes were gone leaving you on expose for him.

"There's no need to be easy on you right?"

You didn't respond. It was so obvious, he was jealous as hell.

"So now you're quiet." He said as he pushed his whole length inside you and immediately started thrusting making you scream since you didn't have time to adjust to him.

Moans were coming out of your mouth like crazy. It hurted but something about Sunghoon and the whole situation that you were in made you almost beg for more

His thrust were rough and fast, Sunghoon basically wanted to fuck his anger out by using you

"Yeah, you like that huh? Being fucked by my cock? Is that what you wanted since the beginning?"

He grabbed your neck and started choking you. The sudden action made you cry from overstimulation. The lewd noises coming from pounding your hole were getting louder and louder.

Suddenly Sunghoon pulled out of you and grabbed your phone which was next to the bed. You looked at him confused. Why did he stop? Just a second ago he was fucking your brain out and now he stops?

"How about we show that guy who do you belong to huh?"

"What do you-" You couldn't finish the sentence as he started pounding into you once again making you a moaning mess. As you were getting closer to your orgasm you heard a familiar voice coming through the phone. Oh Fuck. It was that guy who asked for your number today.

"You know who that is?" He didn't stop fucking you as he was asking you that. Of course you knew!

"H-hang up!" You moaned feeling your walls clenching at his length.

He did listen to you tho thinking that hearing you both fuck would be enough to let him know to give up.

"I'm close baby" Sunghoon moaned as he cummed into your walls. Soon you got off too with no energy left.

It took you a while to actually understand what happened. You looked at Sunghoon but all you could find on his face was a grin.

"You know I'm jealous when i see you with other guys."

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024 #14, eavesdropping

Read parts 1-10 on AO3 here

The Bed Shop AU continues. YAY!

++++++

The Perfect Place - Part Eleven

John gazed out of the taxi’s window. He watched London passing by without actually seeing it, deeply lost in thought. Once again, John was back in Afghanistan and remembered the day he was shot, when everything had changed. The day that had ended his life without taking his life.

John hoped that today was the day that would change his life again by giving it back to him. Making Sherlock Holmes’ acquaintance had already revived him. John looked at his hand and found no tremor. Then, John startled. He suddenly realized that he had forgotten his walking stick and also, that he could not remember when he had used it the last time.

Sherlock fixed his eyes on John. Grinning, he said, “You left it in the shop. Didn’t need it since we were testing the bed.” Since I made a show of dry humping it and totally distracted you from the psychosomatic limp.

“Dear God, it’s like you’ve been eavesdropping in my brain,” John exclaimed. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“I observed that you looked surprised, then touched your bad knee and were feeling around with your other hand. I deduced you were wondering about what happened to the cane now that your limp is gone.”

John looked at Sherlock in awe, licking his lips. “Amazing!” I want to kiss you now, he thought.

“That’s not what people usually say.” Mesmerized, Sherlock watched the tongue moistening John’s lips. They looked very kissable.

“What do they usually say?” John asked and leant a bit closer to Sherlock.

“You’re a creepy freak.” Some kind of magnetism drew Sherlock closer to John, too.

“Wrong!” John said sternly, “You’re not.” You’re brilliant and handsome and so kissable, John thought, and felt amazing when I spooned you in the bed. When you made me spoon you, John’s brain corrected itself, but I’d do it again any time you’d ask.

“Please ask me.” John begged. Oops, did I just say that out loud?

“What do you want me to ask?” Sherlock looked puzzled. “Erm, Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock scratched his chin, feeling sheepish. “The one thing I couldn’t deduce so far.”

“Afghanistan.” John inched a bit closer towards Sherlock. “How?” He whispered.

Sherlock began to explain about tan lines and military posture, getting shot and suffering from trembling and limping. “Ergo, ex-army doctor, wounded in action.” He found that his body had moved towards John’s, too. Only five inches separated them now.

“Fantastic!” John breathed.

“Seems like you’ve only needed some thrill in your life to make the limp and tremor go away.” I'll give you what you crave, every day, in abundance. Be my flatmate, John. (Wedding bells chimed loudly in the Mind Palace.)

I need you in my life, John thought but said, “Seems like it, yeah.”

They were now so close that they could feel the other’s breath on their face. John discovered a tiny brown spot in one of Sherlock’s otherwise blue and grey eyes. Sherlock discovered the tiny scar below John’s ear where the Afghan sniper’s second bullet had missed its target. John inhaled and slightly opened his mouth. Sherlock exhaled and dipped his head downward, staring at John’s lips.

“Here we are, 221b Baker Street,” the cabbie cried out.

In this moment, John wanted to shoot the man straight in the head, fiddling with the gun in his pocket and cursing that there were no rounds in it.

+++++

tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @peanitbear @raina-at

[wikitpowers]

me to kit & ty:

KISS, YOU LOVESICK FOOLS!!!!!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I was *not* longing, I swear.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[hoofpeet]

Going off the Ingo and Emmet had a big fight before Ingo gets ebbie debbied.

I can only imagine how Spice would feel about this. Like they try to psychologically torment Ingo who only as fragments of memories, at best, of who he was and the people in his life. Spice fails, ends up being the warden's partner, and worst of all ends up having an emotional attachment with this man. Spice won't admit it, but he's come to like the strange human.

Fast forward and Ingo get undebbied from the past. Spice and the other pokemon follow cause they care deeply for Ingo and don't want him to be on his own like he was in Hisui. A wacky adventure begins and everything really looks hopeful from here on out.

And then they find Emmet and then it all goes south. Spice (in his Zoroark form) and the rest wait out as the brothers talk, until they can hear yelling. They hear the slamming of a door open and see Ingo yelling at Emmet to just listen to him, but before he can finish Emmet pushes Ingo to the ground.

All hell breaks loose. The other pokemon react but Spice is faster. He gets in-between Emmet and Ingo putting some space between the two, and while facing Emmet, he transforms. Emmet now faces himself but this him is not smiling and his eyes are full of scorn.

Emmet's Psychological Torture 2: Electric Boogaloo. This time with intent to kill

Ougggh... good food

[biscuityskies]

a couple of knights on the road

"Who knows?" his brother says, cuffing Cody sharply on the shoulder once before heading back towards the castle. "Maybe married life will suit you." Cody? Commander of the Armies of the Krayt? Supposed to just settle down and call it quits as a soldier, cozy up into his new life as a married man to a spouse he never picked, let alone met even once? Yeah, right. As if.

this is perhaps my goofiest title. my most whimsical creation. what the heck happened here. anyways here's day three of @codywanweek, with prompts arranged marriage and there was only one bed