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romugh · 1 day

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IN HER REFLECTION- nerd!NR

pairing- nerd!natasha romanoff x reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, sub!bottom!natasha, fingering, mirror sex, liiiight choking, strap (n rcv), heavy praise kink!!, slight degradation if you squint i guess, natty in subspace!

wc- almost 10k of pure smut? sorry?

a/n- got inspired by a request! and then my brain did something weird and suddenly there's 7k words about natasha taking a strap, but that's not on me. not. on. me. blame the anon! (loved writing your request, feel free to send some more in x)

request- forcing nerdy!nat to look at herself on the mirror while you make her sit on your lap and finger her.

synopsis- natasha had been a brat, so you treat her like one, exploring her desires as she confronts herself in the mirror.

taglist- @esposadejoyhuerta, @lost-mortemanghel - comment or dm if you'd like to be added x

It wasn’t just today that had you on edge. Natasha had been bratting out in the most subtle, infuriating ways for days now, but today she had taken it to another level. She knew exactly how to toe the line—pretending to be her usual innocent, shy self—while leaving just enough doubt in your mind to make you question whether or not she was pushing you intentionally.

The text messages were what really started it.

You’d been in class, trying to focus on a lecture, when the first one came in. It was simple enough: “Hope your class is going well ;)”—completely harmless, right? But you couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to it, especially when you opened it and saw the little winking emoji she’d added at the end. That wink, so out of character for her, made you pause. You stared at your phone, trying to decide whether or not you were imagining things. Natasha didn’t usually send flirty texts, let alone ones with winking emojis.

You could already feel the flicker of heat in your chest, but you pushed it aside and ignored the message, hoping it was just an innocent mistake.

Except it didn’t stop there.

Three hours later, another text came through: “I keep thinking about you today. Can’t focus on anything else.”

And this time, it wasn’t so easy to brush off. Her words were vague enough to be taken as sweet, but your gut told you there was more to it. You could almost imagine her saying those words, the way her voice might sound just a little breathless as she admitted it.

By the third class, you were struggling to concentrate. The way Natasha kept popping into your mind, her texts leaving you on edge, had you feeling more than just a little distracted.

As soon as the lecture ended and you stepped out of the classroom, your phone rang. Natasha.

You picked up, trying to keep your voice casual. “Hey, Natty. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice soft and shy, but there was something else. A breathlessness. Like she was slightly out of breath. “I was just thinking about you.”

Again, it sounded innocent enough, but the timing, the tone… something about it felt deliberate.

You frowned, trying to make sense of it. "Are you sure you're okay? You’ve been really... attentive today."

“I just miss you,” she murmured, her voice carrying that same soft, almost innocent tone. But underneath it, you could sense that there was more she wasn’t saying.

There was a slight pause on the line, and for a moment, you thought you heard her inhale sharply, like she was trying to catch her breath. It made your pulse spike, sending a ripple of heat through you. You didn’t ask, but the thought crossed your mind—was she…?

No. Natasha was too innocent for that. You knew she wouldn’t touch herself without you.

Still, the way she’d sounded out of breath left you imagining all sorts of scenarios, ones you tried to push away as you focused on getting through the rest of the day.

By the time you got home, her teasing texts and those breathy phone calls had simmered inside you, leaving you wound tight. She was fully aware of her actions, even though she acted like she wasn’t. The winks, the subtle innuendos, the way she kept thinking about you and calling you after every class—it was all part of her game.

And now, here she was, sitting at your dining table, acting like the same sweet, innocent nerd who couldn’t possibly have done anything wrong. Her head tilted slightly as she studied you, still feigning innocence, but there was that glimmer in her eyes, that hint of mischief that sent a fresh surge of frustration through you.

“What’s wrong?” she asked again, her voice sweet but clearly baiting you, her lips curling into the faintest smirk. “Did I do something?”

You exhaled sharply, narrowing your eyes at her. “Don’t play dumb, Natty. You know exactly what you’ve been doing all day.”

She blinked up at you, a blush warming her cheeks, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she held your gaze, biting her lip as if struggling to suppress a smile, that bratty confidence shining through.

You moved closer, standing directly in front of her now, crossing your arms as you stared down at her. “The texts, the calls… were you just trying to mess with me?”

Her breath hitched slightly, the blush spreading across her cheeks. “I-I wasn’t trying to—”

“Don’t lie,” you interrupted, your tone firm. You leaned in, placing your hands on the arms of her chair, caging her in. “You’ve been bratting out all day, trying to get a reaction. Haven’t you?”

Her eyes widened for a moment, her bravado faltering just slightly. But then, after a beat of silence, she bit her lip and nodded.

“Maybe a little,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the admission was clear.

You could feel your pulse quicken, the tension between you crackling like electricity. You knew she was doing this on purpose, trying to push your buttons, trying to test you. But now? Now she was going to find out exactly what happens when she pushes too far.

“You like pushing me, don’t you?” you asked, your voice low and dangerous, watching as her blush deepened even further.

Natasha squirmed slightly in her seat, clearly flustered, but she didn’t look away. “I-I like it when you… when you pay attention to me,” she admitted softly, her voice filled with nervousness and excitement.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, you have my attention, alright.” You let your hand move to her chin, tilting her head up so she was forced to keep looking at you. “But if you want to keep bratting out, then you’d better be ready to handle what comes next.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her wide eyes locking onto yours. You could see the anticipation swirling there, her nervousness mixing with anticipation as she realised what was about to happen.

“Stand up,” you commanded, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Natasha quickly obeyed, her body trembling slightly as she rose to her feet, her gaze never leaving yours. You could see the flush creeping down her neck, and you knew that under her composed exterior, she was just as affected as you were.

You moved behind her, placing your hands on her shoulders and guiding her toward the mirror on the far wall of the room. She looked confused for a moment, but she didn’t resist.

You positioned her in front of the mirror, your body pressing close to hers from behind, your hands slowly sliding down her arms as you leaned in close to her ear.

“Look at yourself, Natty,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “Look at how flushed you are. How much you’ve been teasing me today.”

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her eyes fixed on her reflection as you stood behind her, the tension between you thick in the air. She could see it herself too now—the bratty smirk gone, replaced with the vulnerable, needy expression you knew she’d been hiding all day.

“You think you’re so innocent,” you murmured, your hands moving down to rest on her hips. “But you’re not. You’ve been begging for this all day.”

Natasha let out a shaky breath, her eyes flickering between the mirror and the floor, her body trembling under your touch.

“I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, but you did,” you interrupted, your tone soft but firm. “And now, you’re going to take the consequences.” -

You sit on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror in your bedroom with Natasha in your lap. Her back is resting against your front, her body snug against yours. She’s still wearing her panties and your oversized shirt—one she had been using as pyjamas, soft and far too big for her. The image of her in it, slightly dishevelled, only adds to the intimacy of the moment.

She had undressed you earlier, her hands tentative but eager, slowly pulling off each piece of clothing until you were left bare. Her fingers had lingered on your skin, tracing over your chest, arms, and thighs with a delicate touch, as if still unsure of her own boldness. Now, the warmth of her bare back pressing against your chest feels both grounding and electrifying.

The oversized shirt hangs loosely off her shoulders, the fabric falling down past her thighs, barely covering anything. Her skin glows in the dim light of the room, and the way her chest rises and falls with each shallow breath betrays the nerves bubbling inside her. You can feel her heartbeat thudding softly against your chest, her anticipation palpable.

With one hand resting on her waist, you reach for the hem of the shirt. Your fingers brush lightly against her skin, and you feel the shiver that runs down her spine. "Let’s get rid of this," you murmur softly into her ear. She tenses for a moment, but she doesn’t object, only nodding slightly in agreement.

You tug the shirt upwards, brushing it over her shoulders and guiding her arms out of the sleeves. Her skin is warm beneath your touch, and when the shirt is finally discarded, it leaves her sitting there in nothing but her panties, vulnerable and exposed in the dim light of the room.

The soft blush on her cheeks deepens, her eyes glancing away from the mirror in front of you as she tries to hide her embarrassment. But there’s no hiding now—not when you’re both like this.

"Look at yourself," you say gently, your voice soft but firm. Your fingers lift her chin, tilting her head slightly so she’s forced to meet her own reflection in the mirror. Her wide eyes flicker nervously, trying to focus on anything but the image staring back at her. But you don’t let her turn away.

"Look at how beautiful you are," you continue, your hand sliding down her bare stomach, feeling the soft skin beneath your fingertips. She trembles slightly, her body pressing further into you for comfort. The sight of her like this—vulnerable, unsure, and so soft—makes your heart ache with affection.

Her breathing hitches as your hand travels lower, tracing over the waistband of her panties. She’s already wet—you can feel it through the fabric—and the knowledge sends a thrill down your spine. You slide your hand under the waistband, teasing her with the lightest of touches.

"You’re already so wet for me," you murmur, pressing a finger against her slick entrance. Natasha gasps softly, her body jerking in your lap. Her hips shift instinctively, trying to push against your hand, but you hold her steady.

"Keep looking," you remind her, tilting her chin up again as you tear her panties away with a swift motion, leaving her exposed to the mirror. "I want you to watch every second."

Her breath comes in soft, shaky pants as you slide a single finger inside her. Her walls flutter around you, the slick heat welcoming your touch, but she’s so tight, so sensitive. She bites her lip, trying to stifle the whimper that escapes her, but you catch it anyway.

"Tell me how it feels," you coax her gently, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

"It feels… good," she whispers, her voice trembling. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes half-lidded as she watches the reflection of herself in your lap, back pressed against you, utterly at your mercy. She’s barely holding on to her own control, the sensation already overwhelming her.

You add another finger, stretching her slightly, and her body tenses. She lets out a soft moan, her head falling back against your shoulder as you continue to move inside her. The wet sounds of your fingers sliding in and out of her fill the room, and her reflection shudders at the sound. Her hips rock involuntarily against your hand, desperate for more friction.

"Look at yourself," you whisper again, your voice a mix of command and praise. "Look at how beautiful you are when you’re falling apart so fast."

Natasha’s eyes flutter open, her gaze locking onto the reflection, and the sight makes her blush even deeper. She watches herself being fingered, cheeks flushed, lips parted as soft gasps fall from her mouth. She’s trembling in your lap already, her hips moving slightly, but she’s still shy, still struggling to meet her own gaze.

"Don’t hide from me," you murmur, curling your fingers inside her, causing her to whimper. "I want to see you, hear you. I want you to see yourself."

Her chest rises sharply as the pleasure builds, and her body reacts to every small movement of your hand. The intensity of it is written all over her face—her soft moans, the way her legs tremble in your lap, the way she tries so hard to maintain her composure but can’t.

You pick up the pace, curling your fingers just right, and Natasha’s breath hitches. Her hips jerk forward, her body writhing as the pleasure starts to take over. She’s close now, her walls tightening around your fingers, her moans growing louder as her body shudders in your arms.

"That’s it," you praise softly. "You’re doing so well."

It doesn’t take long before Natasha falls apart completely. Her orgasm hits her in waves, her body trembling violently as she gasps for air, her reflection a beautiful, trembling mess. Her walls clamp down on your fingers, and she lets out a loud moan, unable to hold back any longer. You keep your pace steady, letting her ride out the full extent of her climax.

"Good girl," you whisper, kissing her temple as she leans back against you, her body spent. "You’re so perfect."

For a moment, you think she might be done, her breathing heavy and her body limp against yours. But then, she surprises you.

"I want more," she whispers breathlessly, her voice barely audible. There’s a neediness to her tone, a desperation for something deeper, more intense.

You pull your fingers out slowly, watching as her body twitches at the sudden emptiness. She’s still trembling, her slick heat clinging to your fingers. "Are you sure?" you ask, your voice gentle but firm, wanting to be absolutely certain.

Natasha nods, biting her lip as she gazes at you in the mirror, cheeks flushed and eyes still glassy from her orgasm. You position three fingers at her entrance, and her breath catches in her throat. She’s never taken that much before, and the nervousness is evident in her expression. But she trusts you—completely.

With slow, deliberate movements, you push three fingers inside her, feeling the stretch and the tightness as she struggles to take all of you. Natasha lets out a sharp gasp, her body tensing, but you’re patient, whispering soothing words of encouragement into her ear.

"Just breathe," you murmur, one hand resting on her waist to ground her. "You’re doing so well, Natty."

Gradually, her body adjusts to the stretch, and the burn begins to melt into pleasure. She’s panting now, her walls fluttering around your fingers as she finally takes all three. Her hips begin to move again, her body seeking out the pleasure despite the overwhelming sensation of being stretched so deliciously. The sensation is intoxicating, and she could easily get addicted to it—the way her pussy clenches around you, taking you in, while she watches herself in the mirror, captivated by the sight.

"That’s it," you praise, your voice low and soothing as you curl your fingers inside her. Natasha’s moans grow louder, her hips rocking against your hand as she loses herself in the pleasure, her reflection shaking and flushed with arousal.

Natasha’s hips move restlessly, grinding down onto your hand as her breath comes in shallow gasps. Her body feels like it’s on fire—every nerve alight with the intense pleasure that your fingers are pulling from her. She’s still trembling, her chest rising and falling erratically as she fights to stay grounded, but it’s slipping away from her with every passing second.

The mirror reflects everything—her flushed face, the way her thighs quiver, craving more of you, even though there’s nothing more to take. Her body tightens and relaxes, caught in a desperate struggle to maintain control over herself. But she’s slipping. She’s losing herself in you, in the way you fill her completely, in the overwhelming need that her body can’t seem to satiate.

Her thoughts blur, everything hazy and distant except for the overwhelming need that pulses through her. There’s no space for anything but the intense sensations, the pleasure so deep and raw it’s almost painful. Her mind can’t focus on anything but the feel of your fingers inside her, the way they stretch her, fill her, the pressure growing until it’s too much.

“I-I can’t—" Natasha gasps, her voice trembling as she tries to form a coherent sentence, but she can’t finish it. Her head falls back against your shoulder, her eyes slipping shut as her body jerks again, a sharp moan escaping her lips.

"You can," you murmur softly, your free hand sliding up to caress her thigh, your voice gentle yet firm. "You’re doing so well, Natty. Just breathe. Let go. I’ve got you."

Her breath catches at your words, the praise hitting her in a way that makes her twitch even more. It’s as if every word of encouragement digs deeper into her mind, making her desperate to please you. She wants to take more, to be good for you, to show you just how much she can handle, how much she needs you.

Her hips jerk forward again, her body trying to pull you even deeper, but it’s still not enough. It’s never enough.

"I want to... please you," Natasha whispers, her voice breathy and weak, barely audible above her own moans. Her fingers clench at the sheets, her body trembling uncontrollably as she rocks back against you, but she’s so far gone that she’s not even sure of what she’s asking anymore.

"You are pleasing me," you whisper, lips brushing against the soft skin of her neck. "You’re perfect, princess. You’re everything I want."

Her breath hitches, her heart pounding as she hears your words, and she can’t help the soft whimper that escapes her. The praise makes her head spin, makes her want more, makes her want to be everything for you.

As you worked her open, the world around you faded into a blur. Natasha’s breathy whimpers filled the space between you, mixing with the steady rhythm of your fingers. The burn and stretch she felt was becoming a delicious ache, one that ignited something deeper within her.

“Just a little more,” you coaxed, your voice a low murmur as you continued to move inside her. “You’re doing so well, Natty.” The praise slipped from your lips like honey, sweet and thick, wrapping around her as she began to surrender to the sensations.

With a deep inhale, Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, the tension in her body dissolved completely. She began to rock her hips, slowly at first, testing the waters, but soon it transformed into something more urgent, more desperate. You could feel the weight of her trust, a gift that was both intoxicating and thrilling.

Then, without warning, she surprised you. Natasha shifted her weight, driving your fingers deeper inside her as she began to ride them, her movements instinctive, almost primal. The way her body responded to you was mesmerising. Each rise and fall was a dance, her movements fluid and graceful, yet filled with an undeniable hunger.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, utterly captivated by the sight before you. The way she looked, the way she felt—it was overwhelming. The flush of her cheeks deepened, a beautiful shade of crimson, contrasting against the gentle curves of her body. Her eyes, once filled with uncertainty, now sparkled with a wild abandon that made your heart race.

With every thrust of her hips, you could feel the warmth of her surrounding your fingers, enveloping them in a slick, delicious heat. The way she took you deeper, riding your fingers like she was trying to chase down that elusive high—it sent a surge of primal instinct through you. You wanted to guide her, to push her further, but she was taking the lead, and you were powerless to stop it.

“Natasha,” you murmured, your voice thick with desire. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

At your words, her eyes snapped open, locking onto yours in the mirror. There was a glint of something—was it pure submission?—in her gaze that sent a shiver down your spine. She looked so captivating, the way her body moved in tandem with your fingers, her breasts rising and falling with each breath, the soft swell visible through her shirt. You could feel your pulse quicken, blood rushing to your ears as the sight of her lost in pleasure ignited a fire within you.

“Does it feel good?” you asked, wanting to hear her voice, to feel her pleasure wrap around you like a warm embrace.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice a breathless whisper. “So good.”

You could see the way her body tensed, the slight tremors that coursed through her as she adjusted to the rhythm. The way she leaned backward, pressing her back into your front, gave you an even better view of your fingers disappearing into her. Her sweat clung to her skin, highlighting the curves you wanted to worship.

“Just like that, Natty. You’re perfect.”

Her breath hitched at your words, and she pushed her hips down harder, eager to feel you filling her. Each time your fingers brushed against that sweet spot deep inside her, she gasped, the sound filled with pure ecstasy. The way she rode you, her body moving with both urgency and grace, was hypnotising. She wanted more, her mind hazy from the pleasure, she needed more.

“Look at yourself,” you urged, your voice low and sultry. “Look at how you’re losing yourself in this. How beautiful you are.”

As she gazed into the mirror, you saw a flicker of vulnerability, mixed with a newfound confidence. The tension in her body began to shift, the way she moved becoming more fluid, more assured. The flush on her cheeks deepened, and her mouth fell open in a long moan, the sound reverberating in the silence of the room.

“I—oh God,” she stuttered, her body beginning to tremble as you curled your fingers, hitting that sweet spot again and again. “I can’t… Please–I need more.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured her, your voice steady, not knowing just how serious she was. “Just let go. Trust me, Natty.”

And as if your words had cast a spell, she surrendered completely. You could see it in her eyes—the moment she slipped into subspace. The tension that had held her so tightly began to unravel, the trust she placed in you lifting her higher than she’s ever been before.

“Please,” she begged, her voice thick with need. “I want more.”

You felt a surge of pride, knowing that you were the one to take her there, to help her explore these depths. “You want more, huh?” you teased lightly, relishing in the power dynamic that flowed between you.

“Yes,” she gasped, her hips working furiously against your hand, every movement driven by instinct. The way her body tightened around you, her walls squeezing your fingers, made your breath hitch in your throat.

“Such a good girl for me,” you praised, watching as her eyes fluttered closed once more, a blissful expression painting her features. The way she was losing herself, riding your fingers with reckless abandon, filled you with an overwhelming need to see her reach her peak.

“Keep going, Natty. I want to see you come undone,” you encouraged, your voice dropping to a low, sultry whisper that wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

With each thrust, you felt her teetering on the edge, her body trembling with pleasure. “I’m so close,” she panted, her voice shaking with need.

“Let go for me,” you urged, your fingers never faltering, coaxing her closer to that precipice. “You can do it. I’m right here.”

In that moment, you felt her walls tighten one last time, her body quaking as she finally surrendered to the waves of pleasure crashing over her. “I—oh God!” she cried, the sound filled with pure bliss as she fell over the edge.

As her orgasm washed over her, you could see the way her body tensed and relaxed, the euphoric release igniting every nerve ending. You held her tightly, guiding her through it, feeling every pulse, every quiver as she rode out the waves of ecstasy.

Natasha was deep in subspace, the remnants of her first orgasm still coursing through her like a gentle wave. Her breaths were slow and steady, but the way she clung to you—her fingers gripping your arms tightly—betrayed the excitement bubbling beneath her surface. She was in a world all her own, a place where she felt safe, vulnerable, and strangely empowered.

You watched her through the mirror, captivated by the way her expression shifted from blissful surrender to a shy longing. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her eyes sparkled with something you recognized as desire, but there was a hesitation there, too. It was a mix of trust and uncertainty, and it only made you want her more.

“Can I…?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a shy eagerness. “Can I have your cock?”

The request sent a thrill through you. “You want my strap?” you asked, your voice low and teasing. You were ready to give her anything, but you wanted to draw out the moment, to enjoy this shift in power dynamics.

“Y-Yeah,” she stammered, biting her lip, her innocence suddenly seeming more pronounced in the heat of the moment. “Please?”

You nodded, a grin spreading across your face. “Alright. Just let me choose one for you.” You reached for the drawer to your left, excitement bubbling in your chest as you pulled out various options. As you displayed them, you couldn’t help but notice the way Natasha’s eyes widened and her breath quickened.

But when you picked up one of the smaller straps, she shook her head vigorously. “No! I want the biggest one.”

Your brows shot up in surprise. “The biggest one? Are you sure about that?” You hadn’t even used it before—it was something your friends had gifted you as a joke, but here was Natasha, deep in subspace and adamant about wanting it.

“I’m sure,” she insisted, her voice a mixture of shyness and determination, almost as if she was testing the boundaries of her own desires. The way she bit her lip again, uncertainty creeping into her gaze, made your heart race. “Please.”

You couldn’t resist her. There was something so endearing about her shy insistence, her innocence shining through even as she pushed her own limits. “Alright, then. It’s in the other drawer, baby. But you have to promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much.”

“Promise,” she replied, her gaze unwavering, the trust in her eyes melting any reservations you had.

With a nod, she hopped off your lap, her legs slightly wobbly but her determination shining through. She moved to the drawer, reaching inside to retrieve the oversized strap. You couldn’t help but admire the way she handled it, her shyness somehow making her seem even more alluring.

When she returned, her cheeks were bright red, and her hands trembled slightly as she held the strap. “I want it,” she stated, her voice firm but still laced with a hint of innocence. You could see how deep into the mindset she was, yet her shyness made this moment feel even more intimate.

“Alright, sweetheart,” you said softly, your voice reassuring as you got up. “But let’s take it slow. I want you to enjoy every moment.”

After you had stepped into the harness and adjusted the 12-inch strap, you moved toward the bed, but Natasha lingered behind, not immediately following. Her blush deepened as she stood by the mirror, her gaze falling shyly before she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, “Can you... take me where I can see myself?”

Her words caught you off guard, but the longing in her eyes made your chest tighten. “Are you sure?” you asked softly, needing to ensure she was comfortable with what she was asking.

She nodded, her eyes flicking between you and the mirror. “I’m sure,” she breathed, her lips parting with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

You smiled, nodding as you guided her back to your previous position. Natasha settled onto your lap again, shifting just a bit higher onto your abs, her back pressed against your chest while the strap nestled against her stomach. The strap was secured snugly to your hips, its impressive length and girth nearly brushing her navel when she sat up straight. The sight alone made your pulse quicken, but you couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be able to take it all.

You rested your hands on her waist, offering a gentle squeeze. “Let’s go slow, okay?” you murmured, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

She bit her lip nervously, her eyes wide with both eagerness and hesitation as she moved up, situated herself and began to lower herself back down. The tip of the strap nudged against her entrance, and she let out a soft gasp, her thighs trembling with the effort.

“Relax, Nat,” you whispered, guiding her down slowly. “Breathe.”

She nodded, exhaling shakily as she sank down a little more, the stretch becoming apparent as she took in the first few inches. Her brow furrowed, her body tensing as she tried to adjust to the sensation. “It’s... it’s so big,” she stammered, her voice laced with both excitement and uncertainty.

“I know, sweetheart,” you reassured her, your hands steady on her waist. “You don’t have to take it all at once. Just take what you can.”

Natasha’s breath hitched as she lowered herself a bit more, her body stretching around the strap. The burn of the stretch was evident in the way her thighs quivered and her soft whimpers filled the air. She could barely take a quarter of it, and even then, she paused, her chest heaving with effort. The sheer girth of the strap made it appear enormous, and you were astonished she was able to take this much of you.

“You’re doing so well, Natty,” you praised, your voice gentle but filled with pride. “You don’t have to rush. You’re perfect like this.”

She exhaled slowly, nodding as she leaned back against you. “It feels... different,” she murmured, her hands gripping your arms for support. “But I like it. I just... I want to take more.”

Your breath caught at her words. “You will,” you said softly, brushing your lips against her shoulder. “But let’s go at your pace.”

For a few moments, she stayed there, hovering on the strap, her body adjusting to the stretch. The sight of her reflection in the mirror—her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way her body clung to the strap—was almost too much to handle. But you stayed focused, rubbing gentle circles into her hips to keep her grounded.

Then, as if something shifted in her, Natasha began to move again, slowly lowering herself down further. Inch by inch, she took more of you, her body trembling with the effort but her determination unwavering. You could feel her pulse around you, the heat of her arousal making every movement slicker, easier. Still, she hadn’t taken it all—just over halfway—and the sight of the strap glistening as it nestled within her was mesmerising. The sight of her slick coating the parts she hadn’t taken yet had you hypnotised, utterly drunk on desire.

“I... I can feel it,” she whimpered, her voice breathy and thick with pleasure. “I think I can take more.”

“You’re doing so well,” you murmured against her ear, your hands holding her steady as she tried to sink lower. “Just like that, Natty. You’re amazing.”

Time seemed to blur as she kept moving, her breath ragged, her movements tentative but eager. And then, after a while, you realised Natasha had been taking more and more of you. Your eyes flicked to the mirror, watching in awe as the strap slowly disappeared into her, the stretch making her body quiver with every inch.

She still hadn’t taken it all—just a quarter left—but the sight of her reflection, of how much of you was inside her, made your control slip.

“God, look at you,” you breathed, unable to hold back. Your hands slid from her waist, moving upwards to cup her breasts, kneading them gently as she moaned under your touch. “You’re so beautiful, Natty. Taking me so well.”

Her breath hitched as you massaged her breasts, her nipples hardening against your palms. “I... I’m trying so hard,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “I want to take it all... I want to please you.”

“You are,” you reassured her, your fingers teasing her nipples as you pressed your hips up slightly, deepening the stretch. “You’re doing so good, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body melting into your touch. She leaned back into your chest, her head resting on your shoulder as she focused on the sensation of you filling her up. The praise made her moan, her thighs shaking as she tried to sink down even further.

“Just a little more,” you coaxed, your voice husky. “You’ve got this. You’re perfect.”

Your gaze wandered back to the mirror, entranced by the image of Natasha’s flushed, needy expression and the reflection of your bodies joined together. But then something else caught your eye—a bulge pressing against her lower stomach. It was the outline of the strap inside her, stretching her so much that it was visible through her skin.

The sight made your breath catch, something primal snapping inside you. You hadn’t even realised how far you’d pushed her, how deep the strap had gone until you saw that bulge—and it ignited a fire in you that was impossible to contain.

Your grip on her breasts tightened momentarily, then slid down to her waist again. Natasha let out a soft gasp of confusion as your hands left her chest, only to clamp down firmly on her hips, pulling her down onto you in one swift, overwhelming motion.

Her eyes flew open, a sharp cry escaping her lips as her body was forced to take the rest of the strap all at once. The sheer girth stretched her impossibly wide, her thighs trembling violently as you thrust your hips up at the same time, slamming the last bit deep into her core.

“Fuck,” you groaned, the word dripping with unrestrained lust as you felt the full weight of Natasha's body sink down onto you. The strap filled her completely, the bulge in her stomach more pronounced now as you both struggled to breathe, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

“I-I can feel it,” Natasha whimpered, her voice trembling as she struggled to catch her breath. “I can feel all of you.”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, your voice rough with desire. “Look at you... taking all of me.”

Natasha's head was against your shoulder, her eyes wide and unfocused as her entire body shook from the overwhelming sensation. She’d never felt this full before; the sensation made her feel like she was on the verge of breaking—and yet, the pleasure was undeniable. She loved it. The overwhelming stretch, the sheer size of the strap filled her in ways she’d never experienced. Her thighs shook violently, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps, and then you saw it—tears.

Her eyes, already glassy with pleasure, began to well as she lifted herself up and then sank fully back onto you. The tears spilled over, streaming down her flushed cheeks, her lips parted as soft, broken whimpers escaped her. She was so deep into subspace, so lost in the haze of sensation and submission that her body didn’t know how to react. All she could do was feel.

You watched her, completely captivated by the sight of her like this—so vulnerable, so beautiful, her skin glistening with sweat, her cheeks stained with tears. It made your heart ache with an almost possessive kind of affection.

“There you go,” you whispered, your voice low and tender as your hands moved from her waist to cup her cheeks, gently wiping away her tears with your fingers while using the reflection as a guide. “You’re doing so well, baby. Look at you, taking it all. You’re perfect.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to comprehend your words. The praise washed over her like a warm blanket, pulling her deeper into that fuzzy, blissed-out space. But the tears didn’t stop. If anything, they flowed even more freely now, her lips quivering as she let out another soft sob.

“Too much?” you asked, though you knew from the way her body clung to yours, the way she kept sinking down further and further, that she wasn’t going to stop. “Or do you like it, hmm? You like being so full of me?”

Her response was almost incoherent, a soft whimper and a nod, her head lolling against your shoulder as she tried to gather herself. The praise was affecting her so deeply, every word sinking into her foggy brain and amplifying the pleasure until she didn’t know what to do with herself.

But then you leaned closer, your lips brushing against her ear, and you let your voice dip into something more commanding, more degrading.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your tone taking on a sharper edge. “Crying just because you’re so full. You’re such a pretty little thing, aren’t you? You can barely handle it, and yet here you are... taking all of me like a good girl.”

Natasha whimpered again, her entire body flushing deep red as the words cut through the haze in her mind. She didn’t fully understand them—her brain was too fuzzy, too far gone—but the tone, the way you said it, made her blush even harder. It was a mix of praise and something else, something darker, and it sent shivers down her spine.

“I... I’m trying,” she mumbled, her voice shaky, her lips trembling. “I’m trying so hard to be good.”

“You are good,” you reassured her, your hands moving back to her waist again, gripping her firmly as you pulled her down onto the strap again. “You’re so fucking good, Nat. So perfect for me. Taking it all like such a good girl.”

Her breath hitched as you moved her, her body too weak to resist, too deep in the pleasure to even think of stopping you. Her mind was spinning, her body trembling, and the tears kept flowing. She didn’t even know why she was crying anymore. Maybe it was the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely, or maybe it was the praise that made her heart ache with need.

“You’re so beautiful,” you continued, your voice softer now as you kissed the side of her neck, your hands still guiding her hips. “So beautiful when you cry for me.”

The tears kept coming, her body shaking with quiet sobs, but her hips kept moving, kept following your lead as you pushed her down again and again. She didn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. The pain and pleasure mixed together, a heady cocktail of sensations that had her spiralling deeper into submission.

“I don’t know if you can take me much longer,” you teased, your lips brushing against her ear as you spoke. “But you want to, don’t you? You want to be good for me.”

Natasha could barely form a response now, her head spinning with the intensity of it all. She nodded, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and need, her brain too fuzzy to process everything. But she knew one thing for certain: she wanted to make you happy. She wanted to please you, even if it meant pushing herself to the edge of her limits, even further than now.

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper, her head falling back against your shoulder. “I want to... I want to make you happy.”

“You are,” you murmured, your tone laced with approval as you squeezed her waist, your eyes glued to her reflection in the mirror. “You’re making me so happy, sweet angel. Look at yourself. Look how good you’re doing.”

Her gaze flicked to the mirror, and she moaned at the sight. The strap pushed deep inside her, creating a visible bulge in her stomach that moved with each thrust. Her skin was flushed, hair damp with sweat, and her cheeks streaked with tears. She looked completely wrecked—and yet, so incredibly beautiful.

“You see that?” you asked, your voice thick with lust as your hands slid up her stomach, pressing down on the bulge gently. “Look how full you are, baby. You’re so perfect like this.”

The praise, the sensation, everything was too much for her. Natasha’s mind was a blur of pleasure and pain, her body stretched beyond what she thought she could take, and yet she wanted more. She needed more. Even if her body was trembling, even if the tears wouldn’t stop, she needed to make you proud.

“I’m... I’m so full,” she whimpered, her hands resting right above yours on her lower stomach, feeling the bulge there, her face bright red as she looked at herself in the mirror. “It’s so much...”

“You can take it,” you growled, your hands moving from her waist to her breasts, massaging them roughly as you thrust your hips up again. “You’ve already taken all of me, Nat. You’re doing so good. So fucking good.”

The praise hit her like a tidal wave, making her moan as her body convulsed in your lap. She was too far gone to even process the words properly, her brain fuzzy and overwhelmed, but she nodded anyway, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she whispered, “Thank you...”

“Such a good girl,” you purred, your hands squeezing her breasts as your lips brushed against her ear again. “You love this, don’t you? Being full, being praised... You’re perfect, Nat. Absolutely perfect.”

Her body trembled at the words, her eyes fluttering shut as she let out a soft, broken sob. She didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to process all the feelings swirling inside her, but one thing stayed clear in her mind—she wanted to make you proud. She needed to. And she would.

Natasha’s body shuddered violently, her breath hitching in sharp, desperate gasps as she tried to stay grounded. But you could feel the way she was clenching around you, her inner muscles spasming uncontrollably as her body teetered on the edge.

You shifted your hips upward, thrusting the strap even deeper inside her. The rough movement sent a jolt through her entire body, and that was it—Natasha couldn’t hold on any longer. Her third orgasm ripped through her with devastating force, her legs trembling uncontrollably as she let out a loud, broken moan, her body convulsing in your lap.

“There it is,” you murmured, your voice thick with satisfaction as your hands tightened on her waist. “That’s it, Nat. You feel so good when you come for me.”

Natasha’s head lolled back against your shoulder, her body sagging against yours as she came hard, her walls tightening around the strap, her muscles clenching and releasing in frantic waves. Her hands scrabbled for purchase, one gripping your thigh while the other pressed against the mirror as if trying to steady herself, but she couldn’t. She was completely lost in it.

The tears that were already spilling down her cheeks came faster now, mingling with the sweat that coated her skin, her lips trembling as sobs of pleasure wracked her body. She was overwhelmed, her mind completely submerged in the sensation, but even through the haze of subspace, she kept moving—kept riding your strap, desperate to please you, desperate to be good.

“There you go,” you whispered, guiding her gently as she shook in your lap. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

The praise sent another wave of pleasure crashing through her, and she moaned, her body responding without thought, without control. Her hips bucked, the muscles in her thighs spasming as her fourth orgasm hit her before she had fully come down from the previous one. It was too much. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t stop her body from convulsing as she rode out the wave after wave of pleasure that seemed to keep rolling through her.

“Oh god, oh god,” Natasha gasped, her voice barely audible between her sobs. “I can’t... I can’t stop...”

“You don’t need to stop,” you reassured her, your voice low and soothing even as your hands gripped her tighter, pulling her back onto your strap as she tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation. “You’re doing so good, baby. You’re perfect.”

Her sobs turned to wails, absolute filth escaping her mouth, her entire body trembling as her next orgasm crashed into her like a tidal wave. She couldn’t hold herself together anymore, her body completely out of her control. Her hips jerked, moving on instinct as she ground down against you, her walls squeezing the strap so tightly that you could feel the tension all the way through your core.

The sight of her in the mirror drove you wild—the way her stomach bulged from the size of the strap, her breasts bouncing with each desperate movement, and the tears that continued to spill down her cheeks. She looked utterly destroyed, so beautifully wrecked, her skin flushed and glistening, her lips parted as broken moans and whimpers slipped from her mouth.

“Fuck, look at you,” you growled, your hands exploring every inch of her skin, fingers digging into her softness as you continued to thrust deeper with increasing force. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Nat. You’re so full.”

Natasha just whimpered, her breath hitching as her body responded to your rougher touch. She was so deep in subspace now, so far gone, that she couldn’t even register the words you were saying, but she could feel them—the way they made her body react, the way her muscles tightened and trembled under your hands. She nodded, her head falling forward, her eyes glassy and distant as she let out another soft sob.

“I... I want to be good,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath as she tried to steady herself. “I want... I want to make you happy.”

“You are good,” you whispered back, your voice a mix of praise and possessiveness as you kept pulling her down harder onto the strap. “You’re fucking perfect, Nat. You’re making me so proud.”

The praise sent another wave of pleasure crashing through her, and suddenly, Natasha was coming again—her body convulsing in your lap as her next orgasm hit her with even more intensity than the last. Her hands pressed against the mirror, her palms flat against the glass as she sobbed, her entire body trembling uncontrollably.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmured, your hands sliding up from her waist to her breasts again, squeezing them as she convulsed in your lap. “Look at you. Look at how beautiful you are when you come.”

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze fixing on the mirror, and the sight of herself—flushed, sweaty, tear-streaked, and utterly wrecked—sent another shudder through her. She moaned, her hips jerking as her body tried to keep up with the pleasure, her mind too fuzzy to process it all.

“I... I still can’t stop,” she whimpered, her voice thick with need. “It’s too much...”

“I know, baby,” you cooed, your voice dripping with approval as you massaged her breasts, your thumbs brushing over her nipples. “You’re doing so good. Just let go. Let me take care of you.”

Her body obeyed without question, her hips moving on their own as she sank down onto the strap again, her walls clenching around it as another orgasm built inside her. She was completely lost to it now, her mind a haze of pleasure and submission, her body trembling as she came again and again, each orgasm rolling into the next until she didn’t know where one ended and the other began.

“Such a good girl,” you murmured, your hands sliding down to her waist again as you thrust up into her with more force. “You’re taking me so well, Nat. You’re perfect.”

Natasha’s response was a soft, broken sob, her body collapsing against you as the pleasure overwhelmed her completely. She was gone, completely lost in subspace, her mind a blur of sensations and praise, and all she could do was ride it out, her body trembling in your lap as you guided her through each wave of pleasure.

Natasha’s body continued to tremble against yours, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps, her chest heaving with the effort. The storm of pleasure was still coursing through her, but her hips had stilled, no longer able to move after the relentless waves of orgasms that had wracked her body.

You could feel the twitching of her muscles, the way her body clenched around the strap still buried deep inside her, but she wasn’t grinding and you weren’t thrusting anymore. She was utterly spent, her head resting against your shoulder, her tears still trickling down her flushed cheeks as she tried to catch her breath.

Gently, you loosened your grip on her waist, moving your hands with deliberate care as you wrapped your arms around her trembling form. Natasha whimpered softly as you pulled her close, her body still so sensitive, every slight movement sending aftershocks rippling through her.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice soft and soothing now, a stark contrast to the intensity that had filled the air just moments before. “You did so good, Natty baby. Just breathe.”

Natasha’s body relaxed a little in your hold, though she was still shaking, her limbs twitching with the lingering ecstasy that coursed through her. She made a small, broken sound—half a sob, half a whimper—as her body gave in fully, collapsing against you, completely spent. You cradled her carefully, holding her close, one hand stroking her arm while the other stayed on her breast, grounding her in your touch.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered again, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “You’re safe. You’re perfect.”

She let out a shaky breath, her head lolling to the side as her eyes fluttered closed, her mind still foggy from the intensity of everything. You could feel the way her heartbeat was gradually slowing, the frantic rhythm calming as you continued to hold her, shushing her softly, letting her know she wasn’t alone in this vulnerable moment.

Your hand on her breast moved gently, tracing soft circles around her nipple, a grounding sensation to remind her she was safe in your arms. Her body twitched under your touch, her chest still heaving, but she didn’t try to move away. She stayed nestled against you, letting the warmth of your embrace calm her.

“You’re okay, Natty,” you murmured softly, your lips brushing against her ear. “Just stay with me. I’ve got you.”

She nodded weakly, her body sagging further into your lap, her legs spread open as she remained impaled on the strap. It was a quiet, intimate moment now—no longer about the intensity of lust but about something deeper, more tender. Her body was twitching from the aftershocks, the occasional clench around the strap still reminding you of how deep you were inside her, but she wasn’t trying to take more. She was just… being.

Natasha let out another shaky breath, her fingers gripping your arm as if to anchor herself. The tears that had been flowing earlier were slowing, but her face remained wet, her cheeks flushed and streaked with saltwater. You watched her closely in the mirror, your gaze softening as you took in the sight of her—completely vulnerable, completely yours.

“There you go,” you whispered, brushing your thumb gently across her cheek, wiping away the remnants of her tears. “You’re so beautiful, Natty. So perfect.”

She whimpered softly at the praise, her eyes fluttering open for just a moment before they closed again. Her breathing was slowly evening out, the shaky gasps becoming steadier as you held her close, your hands moving in gentle, soothing motions. You could feel her muscles slowly unclenching, her body relaxing into you, no longer overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure.

“It’s okay now,” you whispered, resting your chin on her shoulder as you held her tighter. “Just breathe with me.”

You stayed like that for a while, the two of you wrapped in each other, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your quiet breaths and the faint hum of the world outside. The strap was still inside her, but it was a comfort—something grounding for her as she came down from the high of subspace.

Natasha’s body, though still trembling, seemed to relax even further, her head turning slightly as she nestled into your neck. She was quiet now, her soft whimpers replaced with gentle sighs, her body twitching occasionally but no longer driven by the need to move. She was content to just be held, to let you take care of her.

You pressed another soft kiss to her hair, your hands still stroking her arms and chest, reminding her that you were there—that you had her.

“You’re so good for me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible now, a quiet affirmation that she didn’t need to do anything more. “So perfect, Nat. I’m so proud of you.”

Her response was a quiet, barely-there hum, her body settling even more as she melted into your embrace. The tension was gone now, replaced with a soft, languid peace that settled over both of you. You could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing, the way her back moved against yours, and it grounded you just as much as it did her.

You cradled Natasha in your arms for what felt like forever, the quiet comfort between you speaking louder than any words. She was completely limp, her body heavy against yours, her breaths soft and steady now.

After a while, you pressed a soft kiss to her temple and whispered gently, “I should clean you up, baby. Let me run you a bath.”

Natasha hummed in disagreement, her head shaking slightly as she leaned further into you, her eyes still closed. She wasn’t ready to move, wasn’t ready to let go of the feeling of you inside her, keeping her grounded and safe. You smiled softly at her stubbornness, her bratty behaviour making you shake your head in amusement. The bulge in her stomach, still there and almost casual now, was like a silent reminder that this wasn’t the last time something like this would happen whenever she decided to brat out.

You chuckled again, warmth spreading through your chest. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and you loved her even more in these quiet, vulnerable moments.

“Alright, alright,” you murmured, running your hand gently along her side, “we’ll stay here for a bit longer. But when you’re ready, I’m cleaning you up.”

Natasha didn’t respond, just snuggled deeper into you, her body still. Her face was completely relaxed, her lips parted slightly as she rested against you, lost in the lingering haze of subspace. You held her close, stroking her arm softly as you watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, content to stay like this for as long as she needed.

It was about ten minutes later when you felt her stir. A faint wince crossed her face as she shifted in your lap, her muscles clearly starting to ache after the intense session. She let out a small, pained whimper, her brow furrowing as she tried to move slightly, the soreness settling in.

You kissed her head gently, your voice soft and reassuring. “Ready for that bath now?”

This time, she didn’t protest. She nodded weakly, her eyes still closed but her body slowly coming back to her as she let out a quiet, “Mhm.”

You helped her sit up, your hands gentle as you guided her, though even the small movement made her wince again. As Natasha began to lift herself off the strap, you couldn’t help but groan at the sight. She was slightly gaping, her body clearly feeling the aftereffects of the stretch, and the sight was enough to make your stomach twist with desire all over again.

Natasha blushed deeply, her cheeks flushed a soft pink as she noticed your reaction. You saw her glance in the mirror, catching the way her body looked before quickly averting her gaze, embarrassed but unable to hide the small, sheepish smile playing on her lips.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, your voice a little rough from the sight of her. Natasha’s blush deepened, and she looked away again, biting her lip in that shy, adorable way she did when she was overwhelmed with praise.

You discarded the toy to the side, knowing you’d deal with it later. Right now, Natasha was your priority, and aftercare was the only thing on your mind.

“Come here, Nat,” you whispered, helping her to her feet and wrapping an arm around her waist to support her. She wobbled slightly, her legs weak from the intensity of everything, but you held her steady, guiding her slowly toward the bathroom.

Once you had the bath running, you sat her down on the edge of the tub, kneeling in front of her as you gently cleaned her up, wiping away the remnants of the session with a soft, damp cloth. Natasha was quiet, her eyes half-lidded as she watched you with a tired, hazy gaze, her body still relaxed in the warmth of your presence.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmured as you cleaned her, your hands gentle and careful. “I’m so proud of you, Nat.”

She let out a soft hum in response, her cheeks still a little pink from earlier, but she didn’t try to speak. She was too exhausted, too deep in the afterglow to do anything but watch you with that sleepy, content look on her face.

Once the bath was ready, you helped her into the warm water, holding her hand as she slowly sank into the tub, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as the heat soothed her aching muscles. You stayed by her side, your fingers tracing soft patterns along her arm, watching as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the edge of the tub.

“Are you feeling better?” you asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, tired smile. “Mhm,” she mumbled, her voice soft but hoarse from all the moaning and gasping earlier.

You chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Good.”

For the next while, you stayed with her, washing her hair gently, your hands careful as you massaged her scalp, the soothing motions helping to relax her even more. Natasha let out quiet, contented sighs every now and then, her body completely at ease in your care.

When the bath was over, you wrapped her in a soft towel, drying her off gently before helping her into a comfortable, oversized shirt. She was still quiet, her movements slow and sleepy, but she leaned into your touch every chance she got, seeking out your warmth and comfort.

You led her back to the bedroom, guiding her under the covers before climbing in beside her. As soon as you settled in, Natasha curled into your side, her head resting on your chest, her arms wrapping around you as she let out a soft, contented sigh.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the gratitude in her tone was clear.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around her and holding her close. “Always, Natty,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “I’ll always take care of you.”

She hummed softly in response, already drifting off to sleep in your arms, her body finally fully at peace.

a/n- i need to start writing shorter fics oh my god. thanks for reading!

#romugh writes #romugh slays #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #romugh's requests #romugh's nerd!natty #nerdy natty forever my love

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hyunebunx · 1 day

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Wow I’m stupid I pressed send way too fast 🩵 with Lee Know??

˖˙ ᰋ ── 🩵 - kissing in the rain with Minho

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: a teeny tiny amount of angst but it has a happy ending

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: thank you sm for requesting!!! <3 i had soo many ways of writing this in my head that i struggled lol. i really hope you like what i came up with. it's loosely (very) based on the rain scene in pride and prejudice so enjoy!! <33

Arguments were not a usual occurrence in your relationship. Most of the time you managed to settle any disagreement before it could escalate to such heights, the perfectly communicating couple all of your friends couldn’t help but feel a little envious of.

Now was not one of those times; your stress and emotions were getting the best of both you and Minho in the most unpleasant way. You hated arguing with him, getting angry and unable to see the other’s point of view, clouded by the desire to be right and make each other understand where you were coming from.

“You don’t get it.” Minho shakes his head with a sigh, forearms resting on the wheel as the rain poured outside your safe haven, hitting the windshield at an alarming pace and preventing you from seeing anything, even with the headlights on.

“Explain it to me, then!” You bite back, body facing his in the heated passenger seat that was keeping you warm and cozy despite the chill outside. Even when arguing you could admit Minho was the most considerate person alive – you didn’t ask him to turn on the heat, he must have done it when he noticed you trembling like a leaf after getting in.

He surprised you after work, dropping by and driving directly to one of your favorite restaurants just in time for dinner and a well deserved date night. Everything was perfect, the location, the food, and especially the company, laughing and having a great time with the love of your life.

Until things turned sour on your drive home, and what started as a silly disagreement turned into a full-on argument about something you didn’t find significant enough even to remember.

“That’s what I’ve been doing for the past ten minutes but it seems you don’t want to listen!”

You’ve been walking (or driving) in circles, with him getting frustrated and you following right on his tail until the car came to a stop right in front of your apartment building.

It’s not like you didn’t want to listen or care to hear him out, it’s just that Minho seemed to make something out of nothing, insisting and pushing forth the same idea like you were nothing more than a child who lacked basic comprehension. It was frustrating and exhausting, especially after the long day you’ve had.

“Min, I’ve been listening.” You try to smooth things over, warm hand landing on his thigh comfortingly. “Just because I’m not giving you the answers you want doesn’t mean I’m not hearing you.”

Minho remains silent, head turned the other way to stare out the window and not acknowledge your presence. When the silence stretches on, you give up with a sigh and retract your hand, reaching for your purse in the backseat and opening the car door in the same breath.

“What are you – “ You close it right before he can finish the sentence, set on getting inside with or without him to finally take the bubble bath you’ve been daydreaming about all day at work.

“Kitten!” His voice follows a moment later, the sound of the car door slamming louder than him amongst the deafening rain. “Y/n!”

Despite yourself and the insanity of spending even one more minute in this storm, you stop and allow him to catch up, not protesting as his warm hands land on your shoulders and turn you around almost desperately.

“Where are you going? We are not done talking.” He states, dark hair and clothes getting soaked at an alarming pace as the rain spares neither of you.

“But I am!” You exhale, the chill settling into your bones. “We won’t reach an agreement like this so let’s just stop!”

His eyes widen as he pulls you closer, chest to chest, figures illuminated by the bright headlights almost blinding. “Baby, wait – “

“I hate fighting with you, Min.” Without meaning to, you interrupt him once again, reaching up to cup his face and drag him closer. “I’m sorry, okay? We can talk this over calmly inside after we cool down. Just not like this, please, I can’t do it anymore.”

He nods instantly, agreeing without a doubt and most likely seeing his faults too, and not only yours. Then, when you expect him to let go and finally follow you in, Minho surprises you the second time tonight by leaning over and connecting your lips in a kiss full of passion and love, reminding you once again that the heart in his chest beats first and foremost for you. His upper limbs cling to your body just like your clothes, hugging you tightly while your hands squeeze his face affectionately, a smile sneaking past and pulling one from him as well, on the verge of beaming into the kiss.

The rain seems to disappear, the cold too, like you weren’t bothered by either in the first place. Minho has that effect on you, helping you see the good in every situation. Sure, the location was not ideal – nothing could be less romantic than a barely lit parking lot – but as always, the company mattered more. And the message he was trying to send. When words failed you, actions worked better, speaking louder and getting your point across without much effort.

Sure, the argument wasn’t resolved but you both managed to make the other understand what mattered the most. You might be disagreeing now, momentarily stuck in a small pothole along the way, but you still loved each other, you would get over it and be okay in the end.

Because that’s what true love meant. Getting through things together and continuing to walk down your joined paths, hand in hand, no matter how many potholes or rough patches you encounter. A small setback won’t ever erase your feelings for each other, or make you forget all the beautiful moments you’ve shared.

And maybe, just maybe, a kiss was all you needed to finally understand Minho’s point when you sat down and resolved things that night. He, on the other hand, needed a few more to be satisfied.

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids soft thoughts #stray kids soft hours #skz angst #skz fluff #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know x you

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paarksunghoon · 3 days

Note

Hi I love your content so much I was wondering if you would to this that Jake mistakenly ordered few or one s.x toy that he would use on my later

ugh I’m so mad because I wrote this request, dropped my phone, then it disappeared. anyway hope you don’t mind I switched up the request juuuust a little.

***

Should he put it back where he found it?

Jake holds a baby blue bullet vibrator and inspects it in his hands. The whole reason why he’s in your room is because you asked him to grab a few pens from your desk before you started a study session. But now he’s discovered one of your toys and feels like he could be holding a bomb. He’d have to be a fool to pretend it isn’t a sex toy.

He gulps. Jake isn’t a stranger to this. He’s seen far too many Twitter porn videos to ignore the nature of the device and feels himself growing hotter with every passing second that ticks by. So begs the question: should he put it back where he found it?”

“Whatcha looking at?”

Jake turns around to see you standing in the doorway.

“N-Nothing!”

He panics when you step closer towards him and grab the vibrator from his hands. He watches you hold it up as if to inspect the toy, bringing it eye level until you finally look at him. Jake feels his cheeks warm up and looks down at the floor.

“Now, what are you doing with this?”

“I was just looking.”

“I asked you to grab some pens, not my vibrator.”

He wants to sink into the floor.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have your sex toys lying around!”

The man before you swallows when you chuckle. “It’s my room, Jakey.”

He tries to picture you as you are, in your pajama bottoms and tank top with fuzzy pink slippers on your feet. You look respectable like this. You look like his friend who invited him over for yet another study session that will likely go late into the night.

Instead, all he can picture is you sitting naked on the middle of your bed with this toy pressed right up against you. Jake thinks about what you might look like when your face is contorted in pleasure and what you sound like when you come. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about that before now.

“What about all the guys you’ve been sleeping with?”

You shrug. “Some were good and others were mediocre. I need something to tie me over in between hooking up with people.”

His silence makes you laugh.

“Wanna see me use it?”

Jake finds himself rock hard and hovering over your body. He doesn’t have to wonder what you look like underneath your clothes anymore. They’re discarded somewhere on your bedroom floor and you’ve got the toy pressed right against your exposed slit.

He watches in wonder and amazement when you drag the toy over yourself and studies the way your eyes close shut and how your mouth parts open to emit soft pants. Jake doesn’t know if he should look at your face or pussy. He tries to do both.

Amidst his own inner turmoil, Jake feels you pull his hand to cover your own until he’s holding the device. It feels so foreign in his hands when you push it against your pussy but he loves the way you sound when it happens. Jake loves watching the wetness ooze out of you. He can feel the vibrations against his fingertips. It’s so hot.

He fidgets with the toy, dragging it all over your pussy like he’s trying to find the spots that make you tick. He memorizes all of them and indulges your pleasure every time you moan from beneath him.

Jake wonders how you’d react if he turned the volume up a notch. He presses the button again and it roars like a small lion.

“Ah!”

The gasp alone pulls a deep moan from the back of Jake’s throat. He pushes the toy against your clit until your legs shake and hips buck against his hand. Jake uses his free one to hold your legs open and coaxes you into your orgasm, and he swears he’s never seen anything so angelic before.

Slowly, he turns the vibrations down as not to abruptly end your orgasm. He turns the device off when he sees your legs begin to still and allows you to catch your breath.

Although, it seems like the fun isn’t over. You smile at him like you know something he doesn’t.

“We should try it on you next.”

“Me?!”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jake smut #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #enha hard thoughts #enhypen hard thoughts #enha hard hours #enhypen hard hours #enha x reader #jake sim smut #jake sim x reader #hard thought*#my writing*

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be4chywritez · 2 days

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sweet nothing | oscar piastri

oscar piastri x heiress!reader

I find myself runnin’ home to your sweet nothings

request : heiress of mclaren and oscar they meet at like a dinner at her estate or something and her dad or like father figure asks if oscar is single, and oscar says yes and her father figure tells them to go on a date and they end up going out maybe oscar is a lil asshole😊

You brush the dirt off your hands, glancing proudly at the roses you’ve just planted. The soil is warm under your fingers, and you lean back, wiping sweat from your forehead. A small smile plays on your lips as you admire the neat rows of blooms, but your peace is broken when you hear your name being called.

You turn, blinking against the sunlight, and spot your grandfather standing by the patio, his brows furrowed in that way he always does when he’s trying to look serious. Lando stands beside him, grinning widely, and next to him is someone you don’t recognize—a tall guy with messy brown hair and a quiet expression.

Your grandfather calls again, his voice a little sharper now. “Come here for a moment.”

You dust your hands off on your shorts and shuffle over, feeling the light breeze cool the sweat on your skin. Lando’s grin widens as you approach. “Still playing in the dirt, I see,” he teases.

“Always,” you respond, flashing him a playful smile. Your gaze drifts to the new guy, and your curiosity piques. He stands a little more stiffly than Lando, like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself. There’s something about the way he glances at you—polite, but distant—that makes you feel like you’re meeting someone important.

“This is Oscar Piastri,” Lando says, nudging the guy next to him. “Newest McLaren driver.”

Oscar smiles at you, though it’s small and a bit shy, like he’s not used to all the attention. “Hi,” he says, his accent lilting in a way that catches your attention.

“Hi,” you reply, a little awkward, but you can’t help but smile back. You try to remember if you’ve heard his name before, but your mind draws a blank. Racing was never something you followed closely, even if it was always around you.

Before you can say anything else, your grandfather clears his throat, his eyes twinkling with something that makes you uneasy. “Oscar’s a fine driver,” he says, his voice heavy with authority. “I think it would be good for you two to spend some time together.”

You blink, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Wait… what?”

Your grandfather’s expression doesn’t falter. He crosses his arms, the hint of a smirk on his lips. “Oscar, are you single?” he asks, turning the conversation before you can even process what he’s suggesting.

Oscar looks a little startled, his eyes darting from your grandfather to you, then back again. “Uh, yes, sir,” he answers, and you notice his fingers fidget slightly, like he’s not sure how to react either.

“Good,” your grandfather replies, his tone firm. “Then I suggest you take my granddaughter out on a date.”

You feel your cheeks warm, your mouth dropping open slightly. “A—date?”

Oscar looks as surprised as you feel, and for a second, you’re not sure who’s more uncomfortable. But then he nods, his voice soft but steady. “If that’s what you want, sir.”

You don’t know what to say. You glance at Oscar, who looks just as confused as you are, but there’s something in his gaze—something careful and maybe even curious. He doesn’t seem like the type to argue with your grandfather, and honestly, neither are you.

Lando, ever the instigator, lets out a low chuckle. “Well, this just got interesting.”

You smile awkwardly, not sure what to make of it all. Oscar offers you a small, almost apologetic smile, and you feel a strange flutter in your chest. Maybe it won’t be so bad. He seems nice enough, and if nothing else, it’ll be a chance to get to know him.

The next day, you find yourself standing in front of a trendy restaurant in the heart of the city. It’s not the quiet, tucked-away café you were imagining, but rather a bustling spot with large windows, modern decor, and a steady stream of people coming and going. Your stomach twists with nervous excitement as you spot Oscar standing by the entrance, looking cool and collected in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans.

“Hey,” he greets you with a brief smile, his hands in his pockets. There’s a casual confidence in the way he stands, but something about his demeanor feels a little… distant, like he’s already halfway checked out of the conversation before it even begins.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling back as he steps aside to let you walk in first. The restaurant hums with energy—clinking glasses, soft chatter, and the occasional laugh. You feel a little out of place, like maybe this is fancier than you were expecting.

Oscar pulls out your chair, but there’s something about the motion that feels more like routine than a thoughtful gesture. As you sit down, he moves quickly to his own seat, already glancing at the menu like this is just another pit stop in his day.

“So, you like this place?” you ask, trying to break the ice.

“Yeah,” Oscar says with a short nod, eyes still scanning the menu. “It’s close by, and the food’s good.” His tone is polite, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s keeping things at arm’s length.

You fiddle with your napkin, glancing around at the other patrons—groups of friends laughing together, couples holding hands. You can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. You were hoping for something quieter, more personal, but this feels… different.

The waiter comes by, and you both place your orders. Oscar seems at ease, chatting with the waiter casually, but when his attention turns back to you, there’s a moment of awkward silence. You search for something to say, but it’s hard to get a read on him. He’s polite, sure, but there’s a wall up—one you can’t quite figure out how to get past.

“So, what do you do for fun?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation into something light.

Oscar leans back, shrugging a little. “Mostly training, to be honest. Racing takes up a lot of my time.”

You nod, not sure what to say next. He’s not giving you much to work with, and you start to wonder if this was a bad idea. Maybe he’s just busy, or maybe he’s just not interested. Either way, the conversation feels stilted, like you’re trying too hard to fill the gaps.

“Do you follow F1?” he asks, breaking the silence.

You bite your lip, feeling a little embarrassed. “Honestly, not really,” you admit. “I mean, I know about it because of my family, but I’ve never really been that into it.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Kind of ironic, don’t you think?”

You flush slightly, not sure how to take that. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He doesn’t push further, just takes a sip of his water and glances out the window, his mind seemingly elsewhere. You feel a flicker of disappointment. This wasn’t how you imagined your first date going—Oscar seemed nice enough, but there’s a coolness to him that you can’t shake.

As the food arrives, you try to make the best of the situation, steering the conversation back to lighter topics. You talk about your garden again, hoping to spark some interest, but while Oscar listens, he doesn’t offer much in return. Every now and then, he glances at his phone, not enough to be rude, but enough to make you wonder if he’s distracted by something else.

“Sorry,” he says once, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Just… work stuff.”

You nod, trying to brush it off, but it adds to the growing sense that maybe this date isn’t a priority for him. You had expected a chance to connect, to get to know him beyond the racer image, but it feels like you’re barely scratching the surface.

Still, you don’t want to give up just yet.

“Have you always wanted to be a driver?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Oscar’s gaze flicks to you, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah, since I was a kid. I was pretty focused on it, even when I was younger. It’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do.”

For a moment, you see a glimpse of something more—a passion that runs deep, something that makes him tick. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone again, his expression neutral once more.

The rest of the meal passes in a blur of small talk and polite conversation, but the spark you had hoped for never really comes. As the check arrives, Oscar pulls out his card without hesitation, glancing at you with a half-smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asks.

You nod, feeling a little deflated, but you don’t want to show it. Maybe this was just a bad day for him. Maybe he’s just not the type to open up easily. Either way, you feel like there’s something you’re missing, something that keeps him at a distance.

As you both step out into the cool evening air, Oscar walks you to the curb where his car is parked. He pauses for a moment, looking at you, and for a brief second, you wonder if he’s going to say something that might change the tone of the evening.

But instead, he just smiles—a little tired, a little distracted. “It was nice hanging out with you,” he says, his tone polite but nothing more.

“Yeah, it was,” you reply, trying to match his energy, though the words feel hollow.

Oscar opens the car door for you, and as you slide in, you can’t help but wonder what’s really going on behind those guarded eyes. There’s something he’s not telling you—something that keeps him from fully being here with you.

As he drives you home, the silence between you grows, and you find yourself staring out the window, wondering if maybe you were hoping for too much too soon.

Despite the awkwardness of the first date, Oscar lingers in your thoughts more than you’d like to admit. There’s something about him—his quiet intensity, the way he carries himself—that draws you in, even if he hasn’t fully opened up to you yet. Maybe it’s just the mystery of it all. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s unlike anyone you’ve dated before.

Your crush sneaks up on you slowly. You catch yourself thinking about what you’ll wear next time you see him. You imagine different scenarios in your head—how the next date might go, whether he’ll be more relaxed, more present. You convince yourself that it’s just a matter of time.

When the next race rolls around, you decide to attend. You tell yourself it’s because you’re supporting McLaren, but deep down, you know it’s because of Oscar. Even though things were a little off between you two, there’s a part of you that’s eager to see him again. Maybe things will be different this time.

The race is packed with spectators, and the air hums with excitement. As you weave through the crowds, you feel a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Watching Oscar on the track feels different now—you’re not just another fan in the stands. You’re here for him, and that thought makes your heart race a little faster.

The race itself is thrilling, and you can’t help but feel happiness as Oscar crosses the finish line. He doesn’t win, but he holds his own, finishing in a solid position. You smile, thinking about how you’ll congratulate him afterward.

After the race, you find your way to the paddock, your heart pounding in your chest as you spot Oscar among the throngs of people. He’s surrounded by his team, all smiles and handshakes as they celebrate a job well done. When he sees you, his expression flickers for a moment—recognition, maybe a touch of something softer—but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears.

“Hey,” you greet him, your voice a little too bright. “Congrats on the race.”

“Thanks,” Oscar replies, offering you a polite smile. His demeanor is cool, but not unfriendly—just… reserved. You start to notice the subtle distance between you, like he’s here, but not entirely.

“Maybe we could grab a drink later?” you suggest, your tone casual, but your nerves bubbling beneath the surface.

Oscar glances at his watch, then back at you. “Yeah, maybe. Let’s see how the rest of the day goes.”

It’s not a no, but it’s not exactly the enthusiastic yes you were hoping for either. Still, you brush it off, telling yourself that he’s probably just tired from the race.

You stand there for a moment, watching Oscar disappear into the crowd. There’s a strange feeling lingering in your chest—something about the interaction seemed… off. But before you can get too deep in your thoughts, a familiar voice breaks through.

“Already scaring him off?” Lando teases, sidling up to you with his usual playful grin.

You turn to him, laughing despite yourself. “Please, Lando. I’m not that terrifying.”

He leans against the nearby barrier, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye. “Nah, just a little intimidating with your… I don’t know, your knowledge of roses or whatever.”

You roll your eyes, giving him a light shove. “Not my fault you have no appreciation for fine horticulture.”

“Fine horticulture,” he repeats with mock seriousness, his lips twitching into a smirk. “But seriously, how’s it going? Did Oscar hit you with that ‘strong and silent’ routine, or is he actually saying words now?”

You pause, trying to figure out how to answer. “He’s… quiet, yeah. But I think there’s more to him than he lets on.”

Lando hums, crossing his arms. “Oh, there’s definitely more. Just give him time. Maybe flash him a few more of those smiles—you know, the ones that make people all… swoony.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’ll be sure to use my superpowers wisely, then.”

Before Lando can retort, Oscar’s figure appears again, cutting through the crowd and making his way back toward you both. You feel a flutter of surprise. He was distant before, but now there’s a new intensity in his gaze.

“Hey,” Oscar says, glancing briefly at Lando before turning to you. “I was thinking, maybe we could grab those drinks after all?”

You blink, taken aback. “Yeah? I thought you weren’t sure about it earlier.”

Oscar shrugs slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting into the faintest of smiles. “Changed my mind. If you’re still up for it.”

Lando snickers quietly next to you, clearly amused by the shift in Oscar’s tone. “Well, that sounds like a yes to me.”

You can’t help but smile, a warm excitement bubbling up inside you. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The bar Oscar takes you to is tucked away in the city, with low lighting and soft music humming in the background. It’s more intimate than the first restaurant—smaller, cozier. It makes you feel like this is something real, like there’s something between you both that’s beginning to take shape.

You sit across from each other at a small table, nursing drinks, and for a while, the conversation flows. Oscar’s a bit more relaxed than usual, and it makes you feel like maybe you’re finally cracking the surface, finally getting to see the person behind the cool, quiet exterior.

“So,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “What made you change your mind? You seemed… hesitant before.”

Oscar looks at you for a moment, like he’s trying to come up with the right words. “I guess I just thought it might be fun after all. Figured it couldn’t hurt to get to know each other better.”

You smile, feeling a flutter of hope. “Yeah. I’m glad you did.”

For a few more minutes, the conversation rolls on, and you find yourself leaning into it—into him. He’s attentive, even charming in his own way, and you can’t help but feel your heart begin to race a little faster. But then, just as things seem to settle into a comfortable rhythm, his phone lights up on the table.

You catch a glimpse of the screen out of the corner of your eye—a name you don’t recognize, followed by a few messages that he quickly swipes away without reading. It’s subtle, almost like he’s trying not to let you see it, but the moment leaves a faint unease in the back of your mind.

You push the feeling aside, convincing yourself it’s nothing. Probably just a friend or someone from the team. But when his phone lights up again, this time with a more persistent vibration, it’s harder to ignore.

“Everything okay?” you ask, trying to keep your voice casual.

“Yeah,” Oscar says, his tone clipped as he checks his phone again before silencing it. “Just some messages. Nothing important.”

You nod, but the way he’s so quick to brush it off leaves you feeling unsettled. It’s like there’s a part of him still walled off, something he’s not telling you. But you don’t press, don’t want to ruin the moment.

As the evening goes on, you notice him glancing at his phone a few more times. The distraction is subtle, but it’s there, casting a small shadow over what otherwise feels like a perfect night.

You try to brush it off, reminding yourself that he’s a busy guy—he probably has a million things going on at once. But as the drinks dwindle and the conversation slows, you can’t help but feel like there’s something—or someone—else that’s occupying his thoughts.

The days after your drink date are… strange. You had hoped that spending more time with Oscar would bring you closer together, but instead, things feel more distant than ever. He’s not cold, not exactly, but there’s a guardedness to him that wasn’t there before.

He texts you, asks how you’re doing, but it’s never as warm as you want it to be. You tell yourself that maybe he’s just busy, that it’s just part of being a driver in such a high-stakes sport. But deep down, there’s a little voice in your head whispering that something isn’t right.

You push it aside, trying to focus on the excitement of seeing him again. When he suggests going to the beach, you jump at the chance, eager to spend more time with him.

The breeze is warm, a gentle contrast to the coolness of the sand beneath your feet as you walk side by side with Oscar. The beach is quieter than usual, only a few scattered people, and the rhythmic crash of the waves fills the gaps between your conversation. There’s a lightness to the moment—a sense of possibility. You sneak a glance at Oscar, feeling a small spark of excitement flutter in your chest.

You tell yourself not to read too much into it. But there’s a softness in his smile when he looks at you, a hint of something more, and you can’t help but wonder if this is what falling for someone is supposed to feel like.

“You’ve been quiet,” Oscar says, his voice cutting through the hum of the waves. He nudges you lightly with his arm, a playful gesture that makes you smile despite the nervousness you’ve felt creeping in since the start of the date.

“Just… thinking,” you reply, your eyes drifting out to the horizon where the sun is starting to dip low. “This is nice, though. I like spending time with you.”

You mean it. Despite the moments of awkwardness and the hesitations that have clouded your other dates, something about being here—walking with him along the shoreline—feels right. You’ve never had a relationship that felt this natural before. There’s always been some underlying expectation, some hidden motive from the people in your life who wanted you for your family’s name and status.

But with Oscar, you want to believe it’s different. You want to believe he likes you for you.

Oscar clears his throat, breaking the moment. “Yeah, it’s been good,” he says, his tone almost too casual. There’s a flicker of discomfort behind his words, like he’s trying to keep things light.

Before you can dwell on it, a voice cuts through the air, drawing both of your attentions.

“Oscar! Is that really you?”

You turn, and your heart sinks as you see a tall, stunning woman walking toward the two of you. She’s dressed effortlessly, her dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, and she carries herself with a confidence that immediately makes you feel small.

Oscar’s reaction is immediate—his posture stiffens, his eyes darting away from yours as he rubs the back of his neck. “Hey, uh… didn’t expect to see you here.

Her eyes flick between you and Oscar, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she takes in the sight of you together. “It’s been a while,” she says, her tone smooth, easy. “Didn’t think you’d be back in town.”

You stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say, and the moment stretches painfully long. The familiarity between them is palpable, and a sinking feeling starts to form in your stomach.

“I’m just here for a bit,” Oscar replies, his voice suddenly lacking the warmth it had moments ago. He seems uncomfortable—like he’s trying to get through this interaction as quickly as possible.

The woman shifts her gaze to you, her smile widening just enough to make you feel scrutinized. “And who’s this?” she asks, as if you’re a new accessory she’s appraising.

You offer a small, polite smile, though your chest feels tight. “I’m—”

“Just a friend,” Oscar cuts in quickly, his voice sharp and clipped.

The words hang in the air, and your breath catches. You look at him, confused, hurt—but he won’t meet your gaze. The woman gives a small, almost amused laugh before waving it off.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” she says with a teasing tone, her eyes lingering on Oscar for just a second too long. “Catch you later, Piastri.”

With that, she walks away, her footsteps light on the sand, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. The sound of the waves seems distant now, like you’re underwater, and the weight of what Oscar just said presses heavily on your chest.

Just a friend.

You force yourself to swallow the lump forming in your throat, pretending the words didn’t sting as much as they did. “Who was that?” you ask quietly, trying to keep your voice steady.

Oscar sighs, his hand dropping to his side. “No one important,” he says, though the tension in his voice betrays him. He turns to look at you, but there’s something distant in his eyes—something guarded that wasn’t there before.

You nod slowly, feeling a pang of disappointment settle deep in your chest. The connection you thought you were building suddenly feels fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

For the rest of the walk along the beach, neither of you says much. The easy conversation, the subtle glances—all of it feels like it’s gone. Replaced by a silence that only grows heavier with each step.

You’re quiet when you get home, your heart heavy with the weight of everything that happened at the beach. You try to shake it off, but the look in Oscar’s eyes, the tension between him and Ellie—it’s all you can think about.

Your grandfather is in the sitting room when you walk in, his expression softening when he sees you.

“How was the date?” he asks, his voice gentle.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. You want to tell him it was fine, that everything’s okay—but you can’t lie. Not this time.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling, “don’t force people to like me.”

Your grandfather’s face falls, his brow furrowing in concern. He reaches out to you, but you pull away, the tears already starting to form.

“I just… I don’t want to be an obligation,” you say, your voice breaking. “I want someone to like me because they want to—not because they feel like they have to.”

That night, after you’ve retreated to your room, your grandfather makes a call. He doesn’t tell you about it, doesn’t let on that he’s taken matters into his own hands. When Oscar picks up, he’s met with your grandfather’s firm voice.

“I’m sending the two of you to the ranch in Texas,” your grandfather says. “You’ll leave tomorrow.”

Oscar tries to protest, but your grandfather won’t hear it. “You’ll go,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You owe her that much.”

You sat in the plush leather seat of your grandfather’s private jet, the tension between you and Oscar thick and palpable. Neither of you had spoken much since the beach incident, and you weren’t sure how you felt about being sent off to Texas together. The thought of spending more time with him, especially after everything that had happened, made your stomach churn.

Oscar sat across from you, his eyes flickering up occasionally, as if he was gathering the courage to say something, but each time, the words seemed to die in his throat. You focused on the window instead, watching the runway lights blur as the plane took off.

“I know you’re upset,” Oscar finally said, breaking the silence, his voice quiet yet steady. “I want to explain, but I don’t think words are enough right now.”

You glanced at him, biting the inside of your cheek. Part of you wanted to hear him out, to understand why he had been so distant, but another part of you didn’t care anymore. The truth was, you felt used—like you were just another part of the game, just another person he didn’t really care about.

“I don’t want to hear it right now,” you said, shaking your head. “We’ll go on this trip, but when we get back to London, we tell my grandfather that it didn’t work out. And Oscar…” You hesitated, the weight of your next words crushing you. “Please don’t let anyone know that I was the other woman.”

Oscar’s face twisted, regret filling his expression. “I swear, I won’t say a word.”

You nodded, turning away from him. The rest of the flight passed in heavy silence.

When you arrived in Texas, the sprawling estate greeted you with its endless fields and the familiar scent of wildflowers. Despite the awkwardness between you and Oscar, the comfort of being home, away from the pressures of your world, settled over you. As soon as you were alone, you made your way to the garden.

The garden had always been your escape—a place where you could get lost in the rhythm of tending to the plants. As you knelt in the dirt, your fingers delicately brushing over the leaves of the roses, you found solace in the simplicity of the task. You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, but the sun was starting to dip low in the sky when you finally stood up, wiping your dirty hands on your jeans.

Unbeknownst to you, Oscar had been watching from a distance. He stayed near the old oak tree at the edge of the garden, watching as you moved gracefully through the rows of flowers, completely absorbed in your work. There was something peaceful about the way you lost yourself here—so different from the world of fast cars and expectations.

He leaned back against the tree, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure how he’d fix this—how he could make things right after everything he had done. Watching you, Oscar realized how much he had hurt you, and it wasn’t just the beach incident that weighed on him. It was everything—the emotional distance, the Ellie situation, the lies he had told himself.

But for now, he kept his distance, unsure of how to approach you or if you’d even want him to. You, lost in your world of flowers and dirt, were completely unaware of his gaze.

As the night crept in, you finally left the garden, retreating back inside the house. Oscar stayed behind, his thoughts heavy. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t thinking about his career, his public image, or what other people wanted from him. He was thinking about you.

The morning sun was bright as you headed to the stables, hoping a horseback ride might clear your head. Despite still being upset with Oscar, you welcomed the chance to be alone in the fresh air.

As you prepared your horse, Oscar approached, looking out of place. He glanced around nervously and gave you a hesitant smile.

“Morning,” he said. “I thought I’d join you, if that’s okay.”

You barely glanced at him, focusing on securing your saddle. “Sure. If you think you’re up for it.”

Oscar tried to act composed, though his eyes darted nervously at the horses. He awkwardly mounted his steed with the help of a stable hand, gripping the reins as if they were a lifeline.

As you led the way onto the trail, your horse trotting confidently, Oscar’s horse lagged behind, its rider stiff and uncertain. You could hear him muttering to himself, trying to calm his nerves.

“So, what’s it like riding horses?” Oscar called out, his voice a bit too loud, trying to mask his fear.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” you replied curtly, keeping your distance both physically and emotionally. You weren’t in the mood for small talk, especially not with Oscar, given the recent tension.

The trail wound through picturesque fields, and as the minutes passed, Oscar’s discomfort was evident. His horse seemed to be enjoying itself a little too much, leading to a few unplanned jolts that made Oscar clutch the reins tightly.

At one point, his horse decided to trot faster, and Oscar’s face turned pale as he tried to control it. “I think it’s going to bolt!” he shouted, trying to sound calm but clearly panicking.

You slowed your horse, turning to watch with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. “Just breathe and let the horse do the work. It’s not going to run off.”

Oscar managed to regain some control, though he looked more like he was bracing for a bumpy ride than enjoying it. “Easy for you to say,” he replied, trying to laugh off his fear. “You make it look so effortless.”

You remained distant, nodding but not engaging further. “Just keep your hands steady and trust the horse.”

By the time you returned to the stables, Oscar dismounted with an audible sigh of relief. His face was flushed, but there was a small smile of accomplishment as he looked at you. “Thanks for letting me tag along. I guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought, but I think I’ll stick to less adventurous activities in the future.”

You gave a noncommittal nod, barely meeting his eyes. “You did alright. Maybe next time, we’ll try something less… unpredictable.”

Finally, the time came to return to London. The flight was quiet, each of you lost in your own thoughts. When you arrived back at your grandfather’s estate, you both faced him, sitting in his study.

“We talked,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “And we’ve decided that it’s best if we just remain friends.”

Your grandfather’s gaze shifted between you and Oscar, disappointment and concern etched on his face. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” you affirmed, nodding firmly. “It’s the best decision for both of us.”

Oscar added, “I appreciate everything your grandfather’s done for me, but I agree. We should just be friends.”

Your grandfather sighed, looking at Oscar with a mix of sympathy and understanding. “Very well. I’ll respect your decision.”

As you and Oscar left the study, you found yourself rushing toward your room, letting the tears fall freely down your cheeks.

You weren’t sure why you were crying, maybe it’s because you genuinely felt something with him or you thought you did.

Oscar Piastri was making you go crazy.

Beachy’s notes🐚: Mama is a lil rusty😞

#oscar piastri x fem!reader #be4chywrites #oscar #op81 x reader #op81 #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri imagine #oscar x reader #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #op81 imagine

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hopelesslydevoted2paige · 2 days

Note

Could you do Nika Mühl x short gf where the fem is at a bar with the team and stuff and fem gets lost and Nika can’t find her and it’s all fluff

EYE ON YOU || NIKA MÜHL

summary: nika has a hard time finding your short figure at the bar.

pairings: nika mühl x fem!reader

word count: 380

warnings: use of y/n like once or twice, cursing

authors notes: hi anon thanks for this request!! i lowkey hate the writing of this one but i hvent posted in so looong. i promise ill get back to writing again!

“Are you sure you’re okay with being here?” Nika held your hand and faced you. “Not tired or anything?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine, you deserve to celebrate. Now come on!” You drag her inside with a grin on your face.

The smile on her face widens as she follows you inside.

Once she spots her teammates, she immediately grabs a drink and engages in their conversation.

After a few minutes, you decide to get a drink at the bar and let her have fun with her teammates. Maybe it was also because you had no idea what they were talking about.

As you sipped on your drink and made your way back to Nika, someone tapped on your shoulder.

“Y/N?” You turned around, making eye contact with one of your roommates from college.

“Oh my god!” You laugh and pull her into a hug. “How have you been?”

She grins. “Good! What have you been up to lately?”

As you guys were catching up, Nika didn’t even seem to notice you were gone until one of her teammates pointed it out.

“What? She’s right-“ She turns to where you were seated and realizes that you were in fact, not there.

“I’m gonna go look for her. I’ll be back.” She places her drink down and stands up.

“Fuck, did I drink that much?” She mumbles to herself as she tried to look for your short figure.

Once she spots the top of your head, she sighs in relief and walks over to you.

“Y/N!” You turn to the direction of your girlfriend’s voice and wave at her.

“I’ll get going. Nice seeing you again!” Your friend smiles politely and makes her way back to the bar.

You lean into Nika’s touch as she wraps her arms around your body and places her head on your shoulder.

She kisses your neck and cheek. “I missed you.”

You giggle at how clingy she was. “Are you drunk?”

“Hmm, not yet.” She grins and kisses your neck again, not wanting to let go of you.

“Wanna go home?” She mumbles into your neck.

You nod. “Let’s go say bye to them.”

She whines like a little kid. “Do we have to?”

“Come on Nika, it’s rude not to.”

She sighs and gives in. “Okay fine.”

#nika muhl x reader #nika muhl #uconn #uconn wcbb #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #wcbb x reader #wcbb #wnba x reader #wnba imagine #wnba basketball #wnba players #seattle storm #wlw

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sunflowerreid · 1 day

Note

Request for a Spencer smut where y/n gets handy under the table while out for drinks with the team after getting back from a case

“Please not now”

Timing - S.R

Warnings: Edging, sub!Spencer, Handjob, Public sex (Kind of)

There are many things you could never get tired of, the deliciously jammy doughnuts from the cafe by yours and Spencer’s apartment, the sounds of the birds first thing in the morning as the sunlight creeps through the shades, the smile on Spencer’s face as he rambles on about something he’s passionate about. But the one thing you know you love the most is the way Spencer squirms. Whether it’s down to your hands touching him in a particularly sensitive spot or when you maintain eye contact across the room while licking a lollipop in a completely innocent manner. You absolutely loved making him squirm. Having been denied this simple pleasure for 4 whole days due to sleeping in different rooms while on a case and having to maintain professional you were dying to get your hands on him.

However, there was one problem, well actually there were six problems, all sat around the table separating you both. After solving a challenging case you’d all agreed to celebrate at your normal bar. You absolutely adore your team with all of your heart but with Spencer sat across from you giggling at a joke Garcia had mentioned, the temptation was beginning to override your common senses. No one could blame you, you had your gorgeous man in front of you causing your thighs to press together, underwear ruined once again. You had to do something about it, the throbbing was becoming too much. Suddenly remembering what had happened earlier that day, the way Spencer had deliberately brushed up against you, pressing his crotch subtly against yours while grinning cheekily. That was enough cause for you to grin to yourself, a wicked idea coming to mind.

You smirked at him from across the table, making eye contact with him as you lifted up your leg, heel slowly brushing up his leg. His eyes widened slightly catching on to your plan as your heel got higher and higher teasingly brushing up his thigh towards his crotch, you knew that look ‘Please not now’. He stiffened up slightly, eyes glossing over as his cheeks began to flush. He squeaked quietly, jumping in his seat as your heel made contact with his growing erection. “God Reid are you drunk already” Garcia giggled next to him. “Maybe had one too many” he answered shyly. “Awww pretty boy I always knew you were a light weight” Morgan teased from across the table next to him. “Leave my boy alone, he’s perfect just as he is” you nudged Morgan, knowing the praise would get Spencer worked up. You could feel him throbbing through his trousers, a noticeable stain appearing through the fabric by the leaking tip of him. He was twitching in his seat, desperate for more friction as you continued your torturously slow pace. Everyone was too busy having conversations amongst themselves to notice what was going on, no matter how obvious Spencer was making it. He couldn’t sit still, as a moment of weakness overcame him, placing his hand on your heel to thrust up against you. You knew the look on his face, eyes rolling back slightly into his head, mouth opened slightly, cheeks flushed, eyebrows rising. He was close, a few more thrusts and he would cum in his boxers. You allowed him a few more jumpy thrusts before removing your heel from him. He groaned quietly, staring at you like you’d just ripped his favourite book apart from across the table while you maintained a conversation with Emily. You knew it was mean, cruel even. But he had to be punished for what he’d done before, he knew better.

“Right guys I’ve got to bounce” Morgan announced, blissfully unaware of an edged Spencer a few feet away. “Yeah we need to go to” you agreed, giving Spencer an out as relief washed over his face “Yeah bye guys see you soon” he whispered following you out of the bar door towards your car since you’d only had one drink, planning on driving home afterwards to save you walking back. “God Y/n so horny please, need you so bad” he whimpered approaching you from behind as you reached the car. You turned around running your hands through his curls as your lips met. “In the car baby” you ordered as he immediately rushed over to the passenger seat. He was on you as soon as you got in your side, hands desperately grabbing onto anything he could reach, “Please fuck please Y/n so hard need to cum so bad” he whimpered kissing down your neck. “Alright honey calm down I’ve got you” you reassured him gently. “Trousers off”. He scrambled back to his seat quickly undoing his belt and pulling his trousers down. He was throbbing for you, streaks of precum running down the side of him from his leaking slit. “Please y/n please” he whined thrusting up into the air. You smirked to yourself running your finger up and down his erection, barely touching him. He twitched, a spurt of precum leaking down towards his base as you finally took pity on him, wrapping your hand around his base before pumping up to his tip. “UGH FUCK YES” he moaned loudly, hips humping up towards you as his head rolled back onto the headrest. “God yes please faster, faster” he whined begging for more friction. You quickened you hand, thumb swiping over his tip after every stroke. “M’sorry gonna cum, can’t hold it, cumming ,cumming,I’M CUMMING FUCKKK” he screamed as you finally granted the relief he’d been waiting for. “That’s it honey, that’s it” you whispered, calming him down as he came down from his high, gentle murmurs from him as he buried his head into your neck, slumping over the centre of the car. “I know honey, did so good for me”. It was peaceful, calm, perfect. Well, it was. The little bubble you two were in was immediately burst the moment you made eye contact with a man leaving the bar. Your boss. Aaron Hotchner. The best profiler you have ever known, the man who knows everything. You had no idea how much he’d seen but from the eyebrow raise and slight smirk on his face you knew he knew exactly what was up. God your timing sucks, you’ll both have to work on that.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #sub!spencer reid

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thewickedjazzy · 2 days

Text

Artificial Paradise ➵NSFW MDNI ˎˊ˗

➵Pairing: soft dom! fyodor x afab! reader.

➵Summary: fyodor helps you with your studies, but things start to get a bit heated between you two.

➵Tags and word count: 1.8k nsfw, minors dni, fluff, smut, soft dom! fyodor, teasing, explicit language, rough sex, gentle aftercare, light biting, praise, mutual desire.

➵A/N: @charkvc 's request, sorry pookie, i accidentally deleted the ask by mistake (｡･-･), but hyg, thank you for the sweet request i'm always down for fedya's big brain.

you sigh in frustration, rubbing your temples as you stare at the dense pages in front of you. how on earth are you supposed to write an entire analysis on hamlet in just one day? the play feels like trying to run a marathon in quicksand, and hamlet’s constant overanalyzing seems to stretch endlessly.

you notice your lover's presence in the room immediately, feeling his slender fingers gently resting on your shoulders. his touch is ever so gentle, soothing even as he begins to knead the tension away.

“fedya, how am i supposed to finish this?” you murmur, glancing back at the daunting stack of papers scattered across the desk.

his lips curve into a soft smirk that you can feel more than see. “you’re overthinking it, my love. hamlet is just like you—burdened by choices, unsure of the right path.” his fingers press into a knot in your shoulder, and you exhale in relief, the stress momentarily forgotten.

“you’re making it sound too easy,” you sigh.

he hums, lowering his lips closer to your ear, his warm breath brushing against your delicate skin. “let’s start with the basics. what does hamlet fear the most?”

“death?” you answer, almost instinctively.

“not quite.” he gently holds your arms from both sides, rubbing them softly. “it’s not death itself he fears… it’s the uncertainty. the unknown.”

you pause, your mind working to decipher his words while he continues to massage you, each touch making your skin tingle.

“he fears what comes after?” you murmur, leaning your head back to look up at him. he looks ethereal in his black half-sleeved turtleneck, his hair tied back in a low, messy ponytail, with a few strands softly framing his face and one resting between his eyebrows. his amethyst eyes, half-lidded, gaze tenderly over you.

he chuckles lightly, his soft tune ringing in your ears. “exactly. now, let’s use that. how does it relate to his indecision? and how does shakespeare weave that into the soliloquy you’re struggling with?”

“well, uh..” you mumble, feeling your mind finally beginning to understand the coded texts, “he’s caught between acting and inaction because… he doesn’t know what’s worse—suffering or the unknown suffering that may follow.”

fyodor smiles softly. “excellent my dear. now, why don’t we dig a little deeper into that?”

his hands move along yours as he leans slightly from behind, hovering over your seated form. slender fingers gently take hold of the pen between your fingers, while his other hand rests on your left shoulder. he guides the pen smoothly, highlighting a few key lines.

“let’s explore how this fear of the unknown impacts his decisions,” he says, “look at how shakespeare contrasts hamlet’s contemplation with his actions. the more hamlet fears the future, the more paralyzed he becomes. we see this tension play out in the soliloquy.”

you nod, trying to follow up with him as he writes 'action' and 'inaction' in a beautiful cursive handwriting. the connection between his fear and his hesitation starts to become clearer, and the analysis begins to take shape.

but as you work, you can't help but find yourself distracted by how close he is. the way his body leans against yours and how his expensive cologne filling your senses. you gaze at him, admiring how effortlessly beautiful he looks. his features seem almost ethereal, and you can’t help but think how perfect a kiss would feel right now, completely forgetting the assignment.

“you’re distracted,” he says suddenly, glancing up and catching your admiring gaze. “focus on the text, my love. we need to get this done before 7 pm tomorrow.”

you try to shake it off, your attention returning to the marked passages, but it’s futile. the way the soft candlelight flickers against his skin, the delicate curve of his lips, the slow rhythm of his breath—it’s too much. your heart flutters every time his fingers brush against yours, guiding the pen, and the assignment feels like a distant memory.

he notices that you’re still not responding to his questions, and his smirk returns, teasing yet knowing. “you’re still distracted,” he murmurs, his voice lower this time, more intimate. his eyes, a deep shade of amethyst, meet yours as he pauses his explanation, leaning in just a fraction closer.

you swallow, pulse quickening, your gaze drifting to his lips. screw the assignment, you think, as the temptation becomes unbearable.

“fedya...” you whisper, the sound barely escaping your lips as your hand moves instinctively to his cheek, pulling him gently toward you.

he doesn’t resist. in fact, his smirk widens, as if he knew all along that this moment was inevitable. his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you in as his lips press against yours—soft, warm, intoxicating.

the pen slips from your fingers, forgotten, as your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him even closer. his other hand finds your waist, gripping you firmly. the world feels like it’s spinning, and all you can think is that you never want it to stop.

your hands clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer as if you’re trying to fuse your bodies together. the taste of his lips against yours makes your mind fuzzy. the soft brush of his tongue occasionally meeting yours in a sloppy slow kiss. you feel his fingers tightening around your waist, his other hand cupping your cheek, completely getting devoured by him.

the candlelight flickers casting erratic shadows on the walls, mirroring the rare intimate moment. your focus narrows to the sensation of him—his warmth, his taste, the way he clutches you as if you’re the only anchor in a storm.

he pulls back just slightly, his lips brushing yours as he pants softly, orbs completely dilated with lust. “milaya,” he murmurs, “this isn’t helping with your assignment.”

you laugh breathlessly, “i think… i think we’ve found a new way to procrastinate,”

he grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “well, at least you’re not distracted by the texts anymore.”

he smirks before gently closing the gap between you, cupping both sides of your face as he presses his lips against yours again.

with ease, he lifts you and places you on your desk, the papers crumpling beneath you and pens tumbling to the floor. the fact that he rarely gets aroused like this only heightens your arousal.

you both share a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses, tongues exploring and breaths mingling in a heated exchange.

he slips his hands under your shirt, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head tossing it aside. he leans down, kissing a trail down to your breasts, humming in delight as he inhales your sweet scent—flowers mixed with a hint of fruity lotion—oh how he adores the way you smell.

his soft, wet kisses continue down your skin as he expertly unclipped your bra with on hand, while the other holds you closer to him, the warmth of your body presses against the cotton fabric of his turtleneck shirt.

you press your hips against his moving in tight circles that elicit deep groans from both of you.

his hand that was holding you tight slides down to tug at your pants, and you eagerly help him get it off of you.

“this needs to come off,” you say with a half-chuckle, gesturing toward his turtleneck.

“giving orders now, milaya?” he replies, a teasing smile on his lips as he lifts the shirt over his head, revealing his pale, perfectly soft sculpted body. unable to resist, you lean in, kissing and licking along his chest and neck, your warm breaths brushing against his skin. soft mewls escape his lips as you explore every inch of him.

taking his time, he slowly removes the rest of your clothes, revealing your bare skin to him. soon, both of you are completely naked, your bodies molded together as you share another heated kiss. the warmth of your skin against his makes him harder every passing second that he thinks he might just cum from just being this close to you.

you feel his hands glide teasingly over your drooling cunt before he chuckles and pulls away slightly. "oh my love, look at you— hardly need my preparation"

before you can utter a word, he swiftly lifts you by your ass, sliding you along the desk and sending the remaining papers cascading to the floor. at this point, you hardly notice. he carries you to your shared bed beside the desk and sits down, pulling you to straddle his lap.

"my lovely darling, are you going to take your pleasure and ride me?" he murmurs against your lips and you whine softly humming in response.

his slender fingers guide your hips to grind against him as soft mewls escape your lips burying your face into the prominent crook of his neck.

you lift your hips to guide his tip into your slick entrance. even though he slips in easily, your walls stretch around him, yearning for the fullness you haven't felt in nearly two months.

sweet sweet soft moans escapes his lips, as your legs tremble trying to hold yourself up, only to sink down more on his cock. he spreads your ass cheeks with both hands helping you slide down on him easier.

you pull your head away from his neck, only to see the blissful sight before you—his eyebrows furrowed, eyes tightly shut, and jaw slack. as you quicken your pace, your moans blend with his soft mewls, and you both glisten with sweat while you bounce up and down on him.

"ngh- moya lyubov, let me hear your sweet voice," he murmurs, "ah- I missed you so much, milaya," his soft moans—oh those lovely soft moans, how he mumbles in his native tongue when he's too spent.

he starts thrusting up into you as you bury your face again but now into his chest, moaning against his skin feeling his cock twitch and pulsate before a sharp groan leaves his mouth.

his thrusts quicken, each one leaving you breathless for a moment before the next one knocks the air from your lungs again, your body rendered completely paralyzed by the picked up pace, his tip brushes against your g-spot repeatedly, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body.

then you feel the familiar heat coiling in the pit of your stomach, your ears growing muffled by the sound of your heartbeat. "fed-yyaa i- i'm coming aahh-"

you can’t help but grind against him, striving to keep pace, feeling him twitch inside you before he shoots thick streams filling you completely, throwing his head back with a deep moan. "bozhe! chert voz'mi da da" (translation: jesus! fuck yes yes)

he collapses back against the sheets, trying to catch his breath. you slide off him and join him, stretching your arms before resting your chin on his chest.

“you look so handsome with your hair in a ponytail like that,” you say, biting your lower lip to stifle a teasing giggle.

“ah, it has grown a little indeed... I’m thinking about trimming it down a bit.”

you lightly hit his hand, exclaiming, “don’t you dare!!!”

he giggles, pulling you closer to place gentle kisses on your hairline. “anything for you, milaya.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days

Text

Bad Guy 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The men your mother brings home rarely stick around, but her latest catch can't seem to unhook himself from your life.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Note: I'm going to a physio today for the first time.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The house is quiet as you come out of your room. The single floor is just enough room for you and your mom. You’ve never needed much else and all your life, you’ve made do with what you have. It’s just the way it is.

You stretch your arms and arch your spine as you stop in the doorway of the kitchen. You yawn. You fell asleep reading outdated discussions about your most recent syndicated obsession. You should know better by now, that thorn in your neck is only driving deeper.

You bend at the elbows to rub your neck and drag your feet over the cold tile. Your nipple poke rigidly against your cropped tank top and goosebumps raze up your bare thighs. You open the fridge and pull out the bottle of orange juice, your panties riding up with your movement.

Before you can stand straight, a sharp strikes snaps against your ass and radiates through your flesh. You yipe and grip the bottle by the neck as you jump and turn to face the culprit. The strange man stares back, his brows twitching.

“Mm, you’re not Gail,” he mutters.

“No, I’m not,” you press the juice to your chest, overly aware of your barely covered body.

You don’t ask who he is. You stopped doing that in middle school. She’s another one of her ‘callers’. You don’t usually see them more than once, if at all. Most leave before you’re awake.

“Was takin’ a piss, heard you skittering around, thought...” he trails off into a shrug.

He’s shirtless too. He only wears a pair of briefs as he stands shameless before you. A dark tattoo covers half his chest and extends around his shoulder and down his arm. It’s the typical snake and skull aesthetic sported by men like him.

“Nope,” you reach for the fridge door and step to the side as you close it.

He doesn’t move. You go to dip around him and he moves with you.

“Taking all that with you?” He points at the bottle. You look down and sigh. You push it towards him. “Here.”

He puts his hand under it and you let go. You skirt around his other side and squeeze through the door behind him. You don’t look back as you flee to your room. You resist the urge to reach back and cover the bottom of your ass, not wanting to draw attention to it if he is watching.

You shut your bedroom door and cringe. Great. You can’t really complain. Your mother hasn’t kicked you out. Yet. Not like half your friends’ parents. She just asks for half the rent and you can manage that. With the rent around here, you’d be on the street otherwise.

You cross the room and flop on the bed. You pull out your phone and go back to scrolling the old discussion boards. It’s funny. The more recent posts are totally contrary to the ones when the show aired. You’re not sure who you agree with.

You roll onto your back and drop your phone to the mattress. You have to work at noon. So much for a relaxing morning. You’ll just be hiding in your room until that man leaves.

A knock jerks you up and you roll your eyes. You search the floor and pull on the wrinkly pajama bottoms. You go to the door and crack it open an inch. It’s him.

“Uh, hi?” You utter dully.

“Got you a glass,” he offers one of the cups in his hands. You squint at it then look him in the face.

“Thanks?” You go to take it but he doesn’t let go as you wrap your fingers around the cold glass.

“There a problem?” He asks.

“Uh, no,” you scrunch your nose. “I said thanks.”

“I don’t like your tone.”

You let go of the glass and retract your hand. His eyes flick down and yours do too. The white tank does little for your modesty. You cross your arms.

“Okay? Well, never mind,” you go to close the door and he steps forward, digging his elbow into the wood as he blocks you with his body.

“Your mom said you’re a nice girl,” he looks you up and down again. “Coulda fooled me walking around like that.”

You frown. It’s your house. Why should you worry about what you’re wearing? Besides, if you knew he was there, then you wouldn’t wander around in your panties.

“Thanks for the orange juice but you should just give it to my mom. That’s why you’re here,” you shrug.

He scoffs. “Got a smart mouth.”

“No, I—I didn’t do anything.”

“There you go again. Disrespectful.”

“Huh?” You shake your head in confusion.

“That way you talk. Low and flat, like you don’t give a fuck. Maybe you don’t. Would explain why you’re grown living in your mommy’s house,” he mockingly pouts.

You blink, “you don’t know me.”

“I know girls like you. Pretending like they don’t care. You care. We both know you do.” He moves a glass closer, “say thank you. Like you mean it.”

“I don’t want it,” you insist.

“Don’t want to waste it. Was it you or mommy who paid for the bottle?” He taunts.

You grit your teeth. What is his problem? Why won’t he just leave you alone?

You deflate. You really just want him to go. You look at the ceiling then back to him. He’s the kind of man you would avoid on the street. His blue eyes are as cold as ice and his hair is shaved, but a little longer on top, and he sports a goatee amid the short stubble on his jaw and cheeks.

“Thank you,” you reach for the glass again.

“Thank you, sir,” his voice grizzles as he corrects you.

You steel yourself and your lips slant. You really just want him to tell him to fuck off but like you always do, you don’t say what you think. You keep it inside. Put on that face that keeps you safe.

“Thank you, sir,” you repeat after him.

“Now smile,” he demands.

You flinch and look away. You take a breath. That’s you’re least favourite, when they tell you to smile. It happens often at your job and it always sours your day.

You force a smile.

“Come on, you can do better,” he snickers.

Your cheeks tremble and your smile falls. You tuck your chin down.

“Can you please just leave me alone?” You mumble.

“Excuse me, girl? I can’t hear you.”

“I said...” your throat locks up and your eyes singe. God! When you get angry, you don’t get bold, you just get teary. You hate it. “I said ‘thank you, sir’.”

You grab the glass so abruptly that it sloshes over the side. You don’t stop, you just spin and throw your weight against the door. He lets it close and it slams. You spill most of the juice down your front.

You hear the friction of his fingers dragging down the wood. It sends a chill through you. You slowly pull away and put the glass down, juice dripping down your arms and chest.

He’ll be gone soon, just like the rest.

💀

Your mom’s still asleep when you leave for work. As you sneak out of your room, you listen for any sign of life. If the man’s there, he doesn’t make himself known. You step into your shoes and leave through the front door without looking back.

You head down the street with your earbuds in, a podcast about an old show you watched in high school droning on, as you take the shortcut behind the house at the end of the street. It’s almost four blocks to work but you save money on bus fare. You try to only waste the change after dark.

The ice cream shop is never very busy outside of the post-soccer game crowds. You take your vigil behind the cold counter and bob along with the radio station’s Top 10 countdown. Miley leans in the corner by the till as she chews gum and scrolls through her phone.

You’re fidgety to do the same, but you hate just letting your eyes glaze over. You pace a bit back and forth until her shift is up. When she’s gone, you feel a little less on edge. You always prefer being alone, you don’t have to worry about performing.

Customers come and go. You greet them with the usual ‘how can I help?’ You’ve never been very good at the customer service part but you’re not rude. You just do your job, which it to scoop ice cream and toss some sprinkles around.

You’re entitled to one cone a shift. You rarely have it. You don’t need the extra sugar or the brain freeze. That day, as you close up, the chocolate peanut butter entices you to go outside your routine. You put the lids on all the canisters except for that flavour and do yourself up a waffle cone before you lock up.

You lick the softening cream and turn to face the dark plaza, lit only by the overhead marquee. There’s a car idling just by the curb. You ignore it. A few neighbouring businesses close up around the same time.

The engine revs, and it jolts forward. The horn nearly has you throwing your cone. You fall back into step and keep walking. The Trans Am continues to follow you and honks again. The window rolls down as someone whistles. Only your name stops you.

You turn and bend to see through the window. What the heck? It’s him. The man that invaded your house and threatened you over orange juice.

You exhale through your nose and stand up. You turn down the pavement and keep going. The bus will be there any moment.

“Hey,” he barks, “get back here.”

You keep going. Why is he there? Because of the orange juice?

The car door opens and closes. You speed up as you hear him following you.

“Your mom sent me to pick you up,” he says.

You snort, “sure she did.”

“Really,” he says as his footsteps echo yours.

“She doesn’t even know when I work,” you keep going and he catches your arm, yanking you back.

You spin to face him and yelp. Your scoop shifts precariously in the cone. You try to pull away but not too hard as you selfishly want to keep your treat intact.

“Alright. I offered. I heard you leave. Figured you could use a lift.” He squeezes and you whimper. “I can be a nice guy.”

Can be.

You wince and flutter your lashes, “can you let me go... please?”

He opens his fingers sharply and lifts his hand, showing his palm. “Since you said please...”

You look over your shoulder then back at him. Finally, you glance at your cone. You weigh your options. You’re not a quick runner.

“I appreciate the ride but--”

“I appreciate the ride, sir. Like I said, I can be nice, but respect is earned, girl.”

You swallow tightly, cheeks pinching.

“Sir, I appreciate the ride but I have money for the bus--”

He clucks and points over your shoulder, “that bus?”

You turn and watch the headlights blow by the stop. You flick your eyes to the sky and face him again. “Mmhmm.””

“So, is that a ‘thank you, sir’ on your lips?” He challenges.

You slant your lips back and forth. You fight back a wave of hot frustration. You’re used to feeling powerless but he is suffocating. You nod.

“Thank you, sir,” you choke out.

“See, not that hard to be a good girl.”

He waits until you move. You head back towards his car, and he gets in the driver side. As you claim the passenger seat, he huffs. He looks at you as you try not to acknowledge him.

“Don’t like food in the car. Try not to get it all over,” he snarls.

“I can--”

“Just be careful,” he snips.

Just be quiet, you tell yourself. You pull the seatbelt down and stare through the windshield. You lick around the cone as the cream threatens to melt onto your fingers. The car idles and you glance over. He watches your tongue as you lap up the trickle.

You sit back as his eyes cling to your lips. He lifts his chin and turns straight. He grips the wheel and cranks the volume on the stereo. He speeds off and you struggle to keep from doing just what he warned you not to. You’d tell him to slow down but not only will he not listen, but the sooner you’re home, the better.

#destroyer chris #destroyer #chris x reader #series #bad guy #dark!destroyer!chris #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au

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sexsylexi · 2 days

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Can I request a Jason Todd x reader where the reader has a health scare

Of course, I'm not exactly sure if this is what you wanted but i did my best! 💗

Through the darkest hours.

Jason Todd x Reader

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had just gone in for a regular check-up, a routine visit to make sure everything was fine. It had been a while since you had seen a doctor, and you figured it was time to make sure everything was still in order. After all, you didn’t feel bad, not exactly. Just a little more tired lately, a bit more sluggish than usual, but nothing that couldn’t be blamed on stress or a long week.

But then the doctor’s face grew serious. The casual conversation you had been having shifted into something else, something tense. He asked you to wait a moment, left the room to consult with a colleague, and that’s when the fear set in. Something was wrong.

You sat on the cold examination table, the paper crinkling beneath you as your mind began to spin. What if it was something serious? What if…what if this was something that couldn’t be fixed?

By the time the doctor returned, your hands were clammy and your heart raced. He explained that they needed to run some additional tests, and while he tried to assure you it could be nothing, the words lingered in your head: could be nothing. Which meant it could be something.

You managed to keep it together long enough to leave the doctor’s office, to walk to your car and sit behind the wheel and drive home, your hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly. The fear had grown inside of you, threatening to spill over, and you didn’t know who to call..

Jason. Of course, Jason.

Your hand shook as you grabbed your phone and dialed his number, pressing it to your ear as it rang. Each second that passed without him picking up felt like an eternity. Finally, on the third ring, his familiar voice came through the speaker, gruff but warm.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Jason… I’m scared.”

The line was silent for a beat, and then his voice was filled with concern. “What happened? Where are you?”

“I—I’ve been to the doctor’s. They found something, and they need to do more tests, but I don’t know what it means. Jason, I don’t know what’s happening.Im outside our apartment. ”

You heard him shift on the other end of the line, like he was already getting ready to move. “Okay, okay. Stay right there. I’m coming to you. Just breathe, alright? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Relief flooded through you at the sound of his calm, commanding voice. Jason always had a way of making you feel safe, like no matter what happened, he’d be able to handle it. You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Okay. I’ll wait.”

After you hung up, you sat there in the car, staring out the window but not really seeing anything. Your mind kept racing with possibilities, with worst-case scenarios that you couldn’t quite shake. But you held onto Jason’s words, repeating them in your head like a mantra: Breathe. I’ll be there soon.

True to his word, it didn’t take long for Jason to arrive. You saw him through the windshield as he parked his bike next to your car, his leather jacket catching in the sunlight. He was already looking around, scanning the area for you, and when his eyes landed on you, you saw the tension in his face relax just a little.

He opened your car door and crouched down beside you, his hand immediately reaching for yours. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady. “I’m here.”

The moment you saw him, the tears you had been holding back broke free. You reached out, gripping his hand like a lifeline as you sobbed. “Jason, I don’t know what’s wrong. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

He pulled you into his arms without hesitation, holding you close as you cried into his chest. He didn’t say anything at first, just let you cry, his strong arms wrapped around you protectively. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat under your cheek, and somehow, that grounded you. Jason was here. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.

After a while, when your sobs had subsided into quiet sniffles, Jason pulled back just enough to cup your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “We don’t know what’s going on yet. It could be nothing, okay? I need you to trust that whatever happens, we’re going to deal with it. Together.”

You nodded, your chest still tight but feeling a little more steady with him here. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” he interrupted, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you pause. “Not until we know what’s going on. You don’t have to do this alone. I’m with you. Always.”

His words, simple as they were, settled something inside of you. You took a deep breath, leaning into his touch as you nodded again. “Okay.”

Jason smiled, a small but reassuring grin that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright. “Come on,” he said, standing up and offering his hand to help you out of the car. “Let’s go home.”

---

The days that followed were filled with a strange kind of limbo. You were waiting for the results of the tests, waiting for some kind of answer, but all you had was silence and uncertainty. And in that silence, the fear grew.

Jason could see it. He wasn’t the type to hover, but every time you saw him out of the corner of your eye, he was watching you, concern etched into his face. He didn’t push you to talk about it, but he made sure you knew he was there.

He did little things, too. Things that might have gone unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention. He cooked dinner more often, even though you both knew his culinary skills were limited. He’d pick up your favorite snacks on his way home, or slip an extra blanket over you when you fell asleep on the couch. He even spent more time at home than usual, even though you knew he was itching to be out on patrol. But Jason didn’t say anything about it, and you didn’t either.

One night, as you were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling while Jason scrolled through his phone next to you, the weight of it all started to feel unbearable. The tests were supposed to come back soon, and the anxiety was eating away at you. You couldn’t pretend everything was normal anymore.

“Jason,” you whispered, not sure if you wanted to bring it up but knowing you couldn’t keep it in any longer.

He immediately set his phone down, turning toward you with full attention. “What’s up?”

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip. “I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice so small you barely recognized it as your own.

Jason sighed softly, reaching over to take your hand in his. “I know,” he said. “I know you are.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do if… if something’s really wrong.”

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he said eventually. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it. But worrying about it before we even know… that’s only going to drive you crazy.”

You let out a shaky breath, blinking back the tears that were already forming. “I can’t help it. It’s like this… this thing in my chest that won’t go away.”

Jason shifted closer, pulling you against his chest. “Then let me take some of that weight,” he murmured into your hair. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself. You’ve got me, remember?”

His words, so simple but so full of love, made you feel like you weren’t drowning anymore. You buried your face into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, the leather and gunpowder that always seemed to cling to him. It was comforting in its own way, a reminder that he was real, that he was here with you.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Jason said softly, his fingers running through your hair. “And even if—even if—it was something serious, we’d fight it. Together.”

You stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in his warmth, letting his steady heartbeat calm the storm inside of you. It was easy to forget, sometimes, just how much Jason understood about fear, about fighting battles you didn’t know if you could win. But he always fought anyway. And with him by your side, maybe you could too.

---

A few days later, the phone call came. You were sitting on the couch, your leg bouncing anxiously as Jason flipped through the channels on the TV. You weren’t even watching, your mind too preoccupied with waiting for the phone to ring.

When it finally did, you almost jumped out of your skin. Jason’s eyes were on you immediately, watching as you picked up the phone with trembling hands.

“Hello?”

You held your breath as the voice on the other end spoke, and with every word, the tension in your body began to ease. It wasn’t serious. The tests had come back clear. It had been nothing more than a scare.

You hung up the phone, staring at it for a moment as the relief washed over you like a tidal wave.

Jason was still watching you, his brow furrowed. “Well?”

A smile broke across your face, your chest feeling lighter than it had inweeks. "It’s okay," you whispered at first, almost as if you couldn’t believe it. "I’m okay, Jason. It was just a scare."

For a moment, Jason stared at you, his face unreadable. Then, all at once, the tension in his shoulders seemed to dissolve. He let out a deep breath, one that he must have been holding ever since this whole nightmare began. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours as you both sat there, feeling the weight of the relief that had finally come.

"Thank god," Jason murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled you into his arms again, holding you as tightly as he had that day in the car when everything had first spiraled out of control. But this time, his grip wasn’t one of fear—it was one of gratitude, relief, and an overwhelming sense of love.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You sat in Jason’s arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing. It was over. The worry, the uncertainty—it was all over, and you hadn’t even realized how much it had been weighing you down until now.

After a long while, Jason finally spoke, his voice a little lighter than it had been in days. “I told you it’d be okay,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His tone was teasing, but there was a tenderness to it that made your heart swell.

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “You did,” you admitted. “But I didn’t believe it.”

Jason let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course you didn’t. You’re stubborn as hell.”

You laughed too, the sound light and freeing in a way it hadn’t been in what felt like forever. “I guess I am.”

He tilted your chin up slightly, his eyes searching yours. “But you don’t have to be strong all the time,” he said softly, his thumb grazing your jaw. “I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you. You don’t have to go through stuff like this alone.”

Your throat tightened at his words, and you felt a fresh wave of tears welling up in your eyes—this time, not out of fear, but out of gratitude. Jason had been your rock throughout all of this, even when you hadn’t known how to ask for help. He had just been there, steady and unwavering.

“I know,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jason.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. “You’re never gonna have to find out,” he said, his voice low and full of certainty.

And in that moment, you believed him.

#imagine #x reader #dc #dc comics #dc universe #fluff #x you fluff #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd x you

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222col · 1 day

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coffee

★ art donaldson x reader ★ inspired by 'coffee' by chappell roan ★ 0.6k ★ 18+ | cw: angst, adult themes

art: hey, long time no speak, wanna grab a drink?

you wish you could resist, wish you'd already blocked his number. you broke up nearly a year ago, you'd met him a few times since, and it always ends the same way. you crying, him comforting you all the way back to his apartment then kicking you out the next morning. it's a repetitive cycle, one that you're not strong enough to break.

you: coffee?

coffee is safer, if you drink, you know where it leads. nowhere else is safe. you hate that you're stuck in his grip, unable to escape the delusions that fill your mind the second those blonde locks appear in front of you.

art: meet me at the jazz bar, 7pm? the one on mary ann street

ignored, your requests, your pleadings, always ignored. he knows you like the back of his hand, knows you can't resist him. he's already there when you arrive, a couple drinks in. a glass of wine waiting for you on the table accompanied by the flirty smile on his face. "hey sweet girl." you drink and catch up and tell each other lies. "i want you, come home to me." art pleads, after his fourth glass of wine. if you didn't still love him, still trust him and his intentions, you'd be fine. you wouldn't end up back at his apartment again. but you do, so your hand links through his as you walk back to his place.

"my girl, my perfect girl." you can smell the wine of his breath as he pushes you through the door of his apartment. the pictures of you are gone. you're kissing your way to the bedroom, he's got new sheets. you don't exist here anymore, you're not a part of his new life. he's moved on, well moved on enough to remove you from his home. there isn't a piece of you left here. you're almost crying into the kiss as art pushes you onto the mattress.

you: hey, wanna grab dinner?

you'll never know what kind of magic spell this boy has over you, one that makes you drop all your morals and defence mechanisms to run to him.

art: let's do the park, meet you there at sunset

the text shows any ideas of a normal conversation flying out the window. but you'd rather feel something, than nothing at all. you meet him at your favourite tree, tasting the alcohol on his tongue as his mouth crashes into yours. always excusing his behaviour, telling yourself he loves you. feeding your delusions, at least he wants to see you, feel you, taste you. "i'm sorry baby, don't cry, want you." he whispers into your ear, as his hand slips into your jeans.

art: let's grab coffee?

art was your reason to live, to cry, to love. but it wasn't healthy, you knew it and he abused it. knew he could get anything he wanted from you, knew you'd do anything he asked of you. the memories come flooding back. sat in front of him on the couch as he plaits your hair, dancing the night away at bars, watching him on the courts. looking up the tennis channel on tv, seeing art's face plastered over the screen. those curly blonde hairs, that you used to wash the shampoo out of. those big blue eyes, that used to tell you they loved you. those little dimples you used to kiss every time he got shy when you complimented him. art taught you how to love, how to care. a single tear dropping onto the phone as you text him back.

you: it's better if we don't try, it's never just coffee

#challengers #challengers fic #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson fic

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dovesdreaming · 2 days

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Deadpools guide to keeping you alive

Summary: You have a habit of reminding everyone to take care of themselves, even though you often forget to do it for yourself. Wade, being Wade, notices, and in his own ridiculous yet sweet way, steps in to help you remember the little things.

Request

Masterlist

You sat on the couch, curled up with your phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media while Wade, in full Deadpool attire, was standing on the coffee table, striking ridiculous superhero poses for no apparent reason. He’d started doing it about ten minutes ago, just because he could. One hand on his hip, the other flexed, he looked like a cross between a professional wrestler and an action figure from the 90s. "Looking good, Wade” you said absently, not even glancing up from your screen. "Have you had any water today?". “Hydration is for the weak!" he declared, though he immediately reached for the water bottle you’d left on the coffee table and took a big gulp, mask and all. You weren’t entirely sure how it worked, but you’d stopped asking those kinds of questions a long time ago. You smiled at his antics and shifted, feeling a little light-headed, but brushed it off. It happened sometimes. Not a big deal. Wade, however, noticed the slight wobble in your movement. He paused mid-pose, tilting his head toward you. "Hey, babe, you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out faster than I can regenerate a new spleen”.

You waved him off, though your stomach growled quietly. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just haven’t eaten yet, I guess. No big deal”. Wade’s eyes widened beneath his mask, and he jumped off the coffee table with a surprisingly graceful landing. "Uh, what? You guess? You haven’t eaten yet?" He checked the clock on the wall. "It’s 4 PM. That's not 'yet,' that’s 'barely survived on air alone!”. You frowned, genuinely surprised by the time. You’d gotten up early that morning, thrown yourself into work, and totally lost track of everything else. Again. “Oh…” You blinked. “Right. Oops?”.

Wade crossed his arms and gave you a look you knew well, the ‘I’m about to be ridiculous but also right’ look. “Let me get this straight: you’ve reminded me, multiple times, to drink water today-thank you for that, by the way-but you forgot to eat?” You shrugged, trying to play it off, though the light-headedness was starting to catch up to you. “I get distracted, okay? I’ve got a lot going on in my head sometimes”. Wade didn’t argue with that. Instead, he sighed and sat down next to you, pulling you into his side. “Alright, here's the deal. You’re gonna sit right here, not move a muscle- except to blink, breathe, and keep that heart pumping I guess, and I’m gonna make you some food”.

You started to protest. “Wade, you don’t have to-“ But he was already up, bounding toward the kitchen with surprising energy for a guy who’d been play posing on a coffee table moments before. “I do have to! Because apparently, you’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached, and I can’t have that, babe. You’d look weird without it”. You chuckled as you watched him dig through the fridge, though there was a part of you that felt a little guilty. This wasn’t the first time you’d forgotten something important. Wade had found you passed out on the couch before because you’d stayed up working for nearly two days straight. And then there was the time you forgot to drink for an entire day while binge watching a new show. Wade had quickly gotten you a glass of whatever was closest whilst gently scolding you.

Still, despite your forgetfulness, you always made sure to look out for your friends. You’d tell Wade, and anyone else, to “drink more water!” or “take breaks!” but when it came to yourself, you… just forgot. It wasn’t on purpose. It was like your brain got too full, and the little things just slipped through the cracks. You were pulled out of your thoughts by the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. Wade was muttering to himself, something about "smoking chimichangas" and “how do normal people make sandwiches without a sword?” But a few minutes later, he returned with a plate in hand, two sandwiches that looked like they’d survived a battle, but were clearly made with love. “Behold!” Wade declared, placing the plate on your lap with a flourish. “A culinary masterpiece. You won’t find this in any Michelin-star restaurant, because they can’t handle the truth”.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Wade. You didn’t have to, really”. “Of course I did” he said, sitting back down beside you, much more gently this time. “Somebody’s gotta make sure you remember to do basic human things, like eating and sleeping and not turning into a raisin from dehydration”. You took a bite of the sandwich, feeling instantly better. “It’s good” you said through a mouthful of food. “Of course it is. I’m Deadpool. I don’t make bad sandwiches” he replied, leaning in to nudge you with his elbow. “But seriously, you gotta start taking care of yourself. I mean, I can regenerate my liver if it gives out, but you? You get one shot at this whole ‘being alive’ thing”.

You swallowed and nodded, feeling a little sheepish. “I know, I just… I get so caught up in things, I forget”. Wade looked at you, and even through the mask, you could feel the softness in his gaze. He reached over, pulling you into a side hug. “You know what, babe? That’s what I’m here for. To remind you to do all that boring, vital stuff. You remind me to drink water, I remind you to, you know, live. We balance each other out”.

You rested your head on his shoulder, sandwich still in hand. “Yeah, I guess we do”. “And from now on” Wade said, his voice full of determination, “I’m going to make sure you never forget again. I’ll be your personal reminder system. Forget to eat? I’ll hand-feed you if I have to. Forget to sleep? I’ll tuck you in with my very own beddy-bye song. And forget to shower? Well, I’ll.. okay, I’ll just throw you in the shower with a loofah grenade”.

You laughed, the sound muffled by another bite of your sandwich. “I don’t know if I should be scared or touched by that”. “Touched” Wade said, pulling you closer. “Definitely touched. In the heart, not the weird way. Unless you want it to be the weird way. I’m flexible”. You smiled, warmth filling your chest. “Thanks, Wade”. “Don’t mention it, babe” he said softly. Then he looked down at you, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Now, finish that sandwich and then we’re going to bed. Not for the fun stuff, mind you, unless you’re into that, but because you need to sleep. Doctor Deadpool’s orders”. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the yawn that followed. “Fine, but only because Doctor Deadpool said so”. “That’s the spirit!” Wade cheered, and with a surprisingly gentle tug, he pulled you up off the couch and toward the bedroom, all while mumbling something about setting hydration alarms and taping snack bars to the walls as reminders.

And as you curled up in bed that night, Wade snuggled up next to you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful. Because even when you forgot to take care of yourself, Wade was always there to remind you, whether it was about drinking water, getting enough sleep, or just eating a simple sandwich.

And really, that was all you needed.

Thank you for reading!!

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gibbysoup · 3 days

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🌙 𝓗𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓼 🐈‍⬛

Chris x reader

“Oh come on it’s just a bunch of hocus pocus”

Chapter 1

Warning: 90s bullying, almost fight, crying

A/n: I don’t own the rights to hocus pocus, I changed a couple things to fit this story

Halloween, a day that y/n truly just never understood. Even when she was a little kid, she thought the idea of putting on a costume and getting candy was a dumb idea, and as a now teenager, she definitely still thought it was dumb.

Moving to a new town wasn’t exactly what you wanted to do for your junior year of high school. You were happy at home, you loved sitting in the sun and jamming to Jimi Hendrix. But that was now all coming to an end as you now had to start wearing a coat in October due to the weather in Salem.

After a shitty day of school, all you wanted to do was take a nap, listen to some music or catch a scary movie on tv. But your parents had different planes for you. Your little sister Dani had been persistent on you taking her treat or treating around the new town. They thought it would be good for her to meet kids her age in the neighborhood. The only problem for you was that your parents would be going to a Halloween party that night, so you were now on trick or treating duty.

———————

“Let’s go, hurry up. The bewitching hour’s about to begin!” Your father yelled up the stairs to you and Dani. She ran down the stairs, eager to show your parents her witch costume. Once your father saw Dani he smiled at her. “That’s very scary, wow!” He then turned to you. “What about you, y/n, what are you supposed to be?” He asked you.

She looked at him. “A little leaguer..” y/n said, dead paned. She hadn’t put too much effort into her costume. It had been a while since she had actually trick or treated. She could tell that her father was just trying to get her a little more excited about the holiday, but she just stood there, frowning in her baseball cap and jacket.

Your mother came in, holding a camera to take a of the three of you to capture the moment. “Say Halloween!” She beamed.

“Halloween!” Dani and her father said, well she just stood there, a slight scowl on her face.

———————-

Y/n was carting Dani around to different houses so she can go trick-or-treating. Every house was decorated to the max. lights, pumpkins, fake spider webs and witches. Dani was clearly enjoying getting candy and going house to house, but y/n just dragged her feet the whole way.

“Lighten’ up, y/n.” Dani told her older sister, annoyed that she was clearly bringing the mood down.

Y/n heard this and rolled her eyes. “Can we go home now?” She requested, but Dani just shook her head.

“Nope.”

Just then y/n spots Jay and Ice and some of their friends harassing the kids passing by for candy. She knew those kids were bad news and she didn’t want Dani caught in the cross fire. And just before y/n had been tormented by the two earlier didn’t mean that Dani should be subjected to it.

“Let’s just go this way.” Y/n said, trying to get Dani to make her way to a different house that she could collect candy at but Dani headed straight for Ice and Jay, ignoring y/n. “Dani!0 she shouted, trying to get the attention of her younger sister, but it was no use.

“Ding ding. Ding ding.” Ice heldup his leg so Dani can’t passed him when she tried to enter the house.

“Stop and pay the toll, kid.” Jay told her.

“Ten chocolate bars, no licorice.” Ice said, gesturing to her pillowcase filled with candy.

“Dump out your sack!” Jay shouted at her.

“Drop dead, moron.” Dani spat, trying to make the boys leave her alone.

“Yo, twerp. How’d you like to be hung off that telephone pole?” Ice asked her, a slightly threaten tone in his voice.

“I’d just like to see you try it. Cause it just so happens I’ve got my big sister with me. Y/n!” She said, trying to scare the boys away from her.

Jay and Ice were clearly not impressed or intimidated by this threat. But they especially weren’t scared when they saw y/n walk up.

“Hollywood. Oh no.” Ice said, pretending to be scared of the girl as she approached the two boys and there group of followers. She had earned the nickname Hollywood due to her being from California. Apparently everyone in Salem thinks that just because you live in California means you live in Hollywood.

“So you’re doing a little trick-or-treating?” Jay asked, stepping closer to y/n.

She shook her head. “I’m taking my little sister around.” She answered.

“That’s nice. Whoa, I love the costume. But what are you supposed to be? A New Kid on the Block?” He asked her, his little minions laughing at his joke.

“For your information, shes a little leaguer!” Dani said, not making the situation any better.

“Whoa, little leaguer!” Jay said, He and Ice started to fake play a game of baseball to mock y/n. Dani tried to walk by again, but was unsuccessful.

“Wait a minute. Everyone pays the toll.” Ice reminded her.

“Stuff it, zit face.” Dani sassed back.

“Why you little…” ice said, moving to hit Dani, but y/n quickly stepped in the way, protecting her sister.

“Hey, Ice…” y/n shoved her bag of candy at him. “Here. Pig out. Come on Dani, let’s go.” She said, grabbing her little sisters hand and walked her in the other direction.

“See you later Hollywood…” Ice taunted, waving goodbye to the girls as him and his crew laughed.

—————-

Y/n and Dani walk up the steps to another house for more candy. Dani was still upset about the interaction prior. “You should have punched them.” Dani told y/n.

“They would have killed me.” Y/n said to her. Not only were they bigger than her, but she was also out numbered.

“At least it would have made your reputation at school a little better.” Dani snarked.

Y/n was fed up, she had a bad day, a bad Halloween, and overall just a bad life. “Hey! You just humiliated me in front of half the guys at school! So collect your candy and get out of my life!” She yelled. She didn’t even know what she was saying, she was just letting her anger and humiliation speak. But the look on little Dani’s face just showed heartbreak.

“I wanna go home! Now!” She exclaimed, storming off.

Y/n rushes off after her, finally tracking her down as Dani was now crying into a hey-barrel that was a part of someone’s Halloween decorations.

She looked down at her crying little sister who had her face in her hands as she weeped. Y/n knew this whole move was non of her fault, so she shouldn’t even be taking this anger and frustration out on her. She sat down next to her.

“Dani, I’m sorry. It’s just that I hate this place. I miss all my friends. I wanna go home.” Y/n confessed. “It’s just been hard..”

Dani looked up at y/n, tears streaming down her face. “Well this is your home now, so get used to it.” Dani said, sniffing and wiping her nose.

Y/n sighed, she knew that Dani was right. She needed to except that Salem was there home now and they were stuck here, well she was stuck here until she graduated and went off to collage.“Yeah. Give me one more chance?” She asked her little sister, hoping she could be forgiven.

“Why should I?” Dani gave her a skeptical look.

“Cause I’m your big sister.” She said, causing Dani to laugh, then reach up and hug her older sister. Y/n wrapped her arms around Dani, holding her in a tight embrace before looking up at the sky. “Whoa, did check that out.” She pointed out to Dani to look up and see.

“What?” Dani questioned, her curiosity peaked.

“Something just flew across the moon.” Y/n said.

Dani looks up and y/n jumps at her and scares her a bit. They both laugh. It was a sweet moment being shared by two sisters.

“Let’s go, jerk face.” Dani giggling. Y/n didn’t say anything back, instead she just laughed at her childish insult.

They both stood up and turned to look at the house, only it was a beautiful mansion.

“Whoa!” They both said, staring at the large building in amazement

“Check out this house.” Y/n said.

“Ah, rich people. They’ll probably make us drink cider and bob for apples.” Dani said, looking up at her other sister. They both gave a nod and walked into the house.

The entered the Foyer seeing that the door was wide open. “Trick-or-treat?!” They both said, looking around. Dani’s eyes went wide when she spotted a huge cauldron full of candy. “Jackpot!” Dani said, immediately running over to get her share of candy. “They got kind sized candy bars!” Dani said excitedly, holding up a chocolate bar to show her sister.

“Y/n Denison..” a voice said, she looked up and saw none other then Chris sturniolo, a boy from one of her classes that she totally was crushing on. She slightly froze, dropping whatever candy she had in her hand as he made his way down the stairs. She was now starting to wonder how he even remembered her name.

“Chris…hi..” she had said, slightly nervous to now be in his house. She was suddenly worried about how she looked or where her hands were placed.

“Oh, chris huh?” Dani smirked, looking up at y/n.

Y/n looked down at the younger girl and gave her what can only be described as a death glare, hoping it would shut her up from further embarrassing her in front of her crush.

“I thought you weren’t into Halloween.” Chris said making his way down the large staircase, coming to greet the both of the two girls

“I’m not, I’m just taking my little sister, Dani, around.” She said. Y/n wasn’t at all surprise that Chris had remembered what she had said earlier in class that day and about Halloween being made up by the candy companies.

Chris shot y/n and Dani a warm smiling before speaking. “Well that’s nice, my brother used to do that with me and my brothers.” He said.

“I always do it.” Y/n told Chris, acting like the whole thing was her idea, but Dani had to butt in and open her mouth.

“My parents made her.” Dani told Chris. Once again, y/n shot her little sister a death glare, giving her a slight elbow to the shoulder, hoping that would give her the hit to stop talking.

After a moment of silent had passed, Chris spoke. “Do you guys want some cider?” He offered the two girls.

“No.” Dani said flatly, but at the same time, y/n answered. “Sure!”

Chris went over and got two cups of cider. One for him and one for y/n. He came back and handed the other cup to y/n. “Thanks. So, um, how’s the party?” She asked him.

“Boring. It’s just a bunch of my parent’s friends. They do this every year. I’ve got candy duty” he said. “Or well, I was supposed to have some help but my bothers seem to have forgotten that there supposed to help me.” He said. He motioned for his brothers to come join him. Two boys who looked identical to Chris walked over. She knew Chris was a triplet, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember there names.

Matt and nick had entered the foyer, dragging their attention away from the party. “This is Nick and Matt.” He said gesturing to each of his brother’s respectively. “This is y/n, and her sister Dani. They just moved here for California.” He explained, then looking back at you.

“Wait there’s three of you?” Dani questioned, looking back and fourth at the three teenagers.

“Yeah Dani, that’s kinda the whole point of triplets.” She pointed out to her.

Dani looked up at y/n. “Duh…I know what triplets are.” She said, rolling her eyes. The three boys laughed at the interaction, knowing the sibling back and fourth all too well.

“By the way, Dani, I love your costume, I’m like, really into witches..” Nick said, complimenting Dani on her purple witch costume.

Dani seemed to light up at the compliment. “Thank you, and so am I. We just learned about those sisters in school.” Dani said, clearly very into her conversation with Nick, he even leaned down a bit to get to her level.

“Oh, you mean the Sanderson sisters?” Matt asked, inserting himself into the conversation. “We know all about them, our Mom used to run the museum.” He told her.

Dani’s eyes seemed to widen at the mention of a museum. “here’s a museum about ‘em?” She asked excitedly.

“Yeah, but they shut it down because a lot of spooky things happened there.” Nick said, obviously trying to spook her out a bit.

Just then an idea popped into y/ns head. “Well, why don’t we go to this old Sanderson house?” She suggested.

At the mention of this, Dani shakes her head no. Chris and his brothers look at y/n, trying to figure out if she was being for real or just messing around. “Well come on, make a believer out of me.” She challenged, knowing it was pretty much just an excuse to maybe spend some more time with Chris.

The brothers shared a couple looks, before finally speaking again, and it was Chris. “Okay, let us go change first.” Chris said. “They won’t miss me, trust me.” He said to the two before going upstairs with his brothers.

Once they were out of ear shot, Dani turned to y/n and looked up at her.“y/n, I’m not going up there. My friends at school told me all about that place. It’s weird.” She protested.

Y/n crouched down and got to her sisters level. “Dani, this is the boy of my dreams. He’s like the cutest guy at school.” She tried to explain.

“So, have him take you to the movies like a normal person.” She pleaded, but it was no use.

Y/n sighed. “Dani..Look, just do this one thing for me and I’ll do anything you say. Please? Please?!” She begged her sister. “I’m asking you this as your only sister..”

Dani thought for a moment. “Okay, okay. Next year we go trick-or-treating as Wendy and tinkerbell, with the wings, or it’s no deal.” She offered.

Y/n sighed once more, before finally giving in and compromising with her sister. “Okay, okay, deal!” She said.

A/n: omg…the support for this story is already insane…thank you so much! Hope you enjoy the first chapter!

Taglist: @keerahsturn @fratbrochrisgf @izzykinzz678 @st7rnioioss @jamiesturniolo @v33angel @kaisturni @valkatriee @sturnschrissy

#imagines #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #fanfic #sturniolo x reader

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blindmagdalena · 1 day

Text

The Undone and the Divine

18+ 2k lady homelander x f!reader. pwp, wlw, loss of virginity, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pet names. written for an anonymous requester. 🖤

To kiss, to taste, to devour. Homelander is as close as the world will ever come to knowing what it's like to walk among gods. She's powerful, petulant, all consuming, and she knows exactly how to show you the pearly white gates of heaven.

Touching Homelander is akin to holding fire in your palms. It’s something that should be impossible, and yet time and time again she returns to you, her every muscle thrumming with the barely contained power of a god. There’s a ceaseless wonder to it.

Even so, nothing could have prepared you for this. For seeing all of her. She’s radiant in her beauty, her body lithe and free of blemish. The light behind her head gives her blonde hair an angel-like glow, and the press of her lips on yours is nothing short of divine.

You’re both stripped bare on her bed, your respective clothes shed in a trail from the bedroom to her couch, where kissing became heavy petting.

The mirrors surrounding you make this feel like a shrine dedicated to the woman over you, and you whisper her name like a prayer between kisses.

“Your heart’s pounding like a drum,” she murmurs, kissing the salty-sweet sheen of sweat from your neck. “You’re all full of adrenaline. Don’t tell me you’re scared,” she says, her voice a feline purr.

“A little,” you admit breathlessly. “I’m not good with pain.”

She knows you’re inexperienced, though you’ve been purposefully vague on how inexperienced. Just thinking the word “virgin” is enough to make you cringe inwardly.

Lifting herself up to meet your gaze, she tilts her head, flaxen hair falling over her shoulder. “It’s not supposed to hurt,” she tells you, touching your lips with the pad of her thumb. “That’s a stupid lie told by stupider men. I won’t hurt you.”

You press a kiss to her thumb. “Maybe not every time, but… What about the first time?”

Understanding dawns in her eyes. You flush, averting your gaze.

“Is that how it is? Well, I’ll be damned. My sweet, pretty girl,” she croons, somehow both warm and wicked in the way she nuzzles at you, laughing softly. “My little virgin.”

“Stop,” you groan, covering your face with both hands.

“Ah, ah, there’s no hiding from me.” Homelander easily pries your hands away. She dives in to kiss you, coaxing your lips until they move with hers.

“No shame. No fear. No pain,” she says, her palms sliding slowly down the length of your body. She settles herself between your legs, your knees hiked up over her hips.

“Well… Unless it turns out you like a little pain.”

You bite your lip, watching her with a mix of thrill and apprehension.

“Here’s the thing, sweetheart.” Her middle finger drags a slow line down between your breasts, over your stomach, her lips softly parted in focus.

“Your hymen? It’s not a seal. It’s a liiiittle arc of tissue,” she says, voice too light and casual for the way her fingers are now traipsing down between your legs.

“It doesn’t need to tear. It doesn’t need to bleed. Not if we take our time,” she says, eyes flickering up to your face. Her lips curl into a devious smile. “Not if we get you nice and wet.”

Your breath catches as she slides two fingers down either side of your clit, rubbing so close to where you want her to touch you most.

“It’s not just about the clit. Not about what you can stuff inside it. No one without a pussy is going to understand, but all of this”—she follows the outer curves of you, skirting your quivering cunt—“is part of the show.”

She swallows up your shuddering breath with a hungry kiss. For as long as you’ve known the taste of her lips, Homelander has been hungry. She’s a devouring force, always eager to envelope you. To hoard you for herself.

What’s new to you now is the urgency behind her fervor, how she moves with jagged impatience even as her fingers stroke with maddening slowness.

The juxtaposition of the two is enough to have you writhing under her.

She slips her tongue into your mouth, beckons yours to move with hers.

“Touch me,” she urges, words hot and quiet between your mouths.

Your hands move to obey before you even process her words. You cup her face, push your hands into her hair, nails scraping her scalp for the way it makes her sigh in pleasure. You let your hands roam without rhyme or reason, stroking and learning every part of her.

Though her skin is satiny, the flexing muscles beneath are as coiled steel under your hands.

There’s nothing as thrilling as so viscerally feeling the strength of her in her every movement, and knowing through that just how unbelievably gently she’s handling you.

It makes your clit throb even harder, aching to be touched.

She leans over you, bracing her hand on the headboard, and you seize the opportunity to kiss her neck as she had yours, peppering kisses down her throat to her clavicle. She hums sweetly, cupping the back of your head, encouraging you with the scrape of her nails.

You suck her petal-soft skin gently at first, and then harder. You’d leave a mark on any other, but not her.

“That’s it, baby,” she sighs. “Use your teeth.”

You bite. Hard. For as gentle as she needs to be with you, you must be rougher for her to really feel you. You imagine it must be little more than a tickle for the sweet way it makes her laugh, the sound of it throaty and full of need.

“Atta girl,” she moans, tracing circles, teasing you terribly.

You feel yourself clench around nothing, hyper aware of how empty you feel. How much you want those fingers inside you. That pulse between your legs is radiating throughout your entire body, turning every inch of you into a live wire.

“Please,” you keen, shifting, trying to angle your hips so that you might feel her where you want her most. “I’m ready, please.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. You beg pretty,” she says, leaning back.

Her cheeks are flushed a pretty shade of pink, her hair disheveled by your hands. A lance of pride moves through you; it’s not every day a mere mortal debauches a god.

With a wicked curve to her kiss-bitten lips, she presses her thumb to your sensitive clit.

“Do it again.”

“Please!” You gasp, bucking under her touch. “Please, please, it’s so–I’m so sensitive.”

By the time just the tip of her middle finger presses into you, the wet squelch of it is audible, even with your shuddering gasps. However, much to your dismay, she lifts her hand away.

You make a confused, indignant noise, but any further protests die on your lips as you watch her suck her two first fingers into her mouth, her scorching blue eyes dark with thirst.

She wets them thoroughly before returning her hand between your thighs, dropping back over you to kiss the faint trace of your own tangy flavor into your mouth.

“Even better than I imagined,” she says between kisses. You wrap your arms around her neck, so taken by the press of her lips that the slip of her finger catches you by surprise.

You gasp, but she hushes you.

“Don’t tense up on me now, pretty girl,” she says, her voice little more than a rasp. “Let me in.”

You nod, letting out a calming breath, fighting to let go of the tension in your body.

She focuses her attention on your neck, kissing her way down to the swell of your breasts. She nips playfully at your left nipple before taking it properly into the heat of her mouth. She gives a pleasant hum, the vibrations of her voice making you shiver with pleasure.

You push your hands into her hair, down her neck, cupping the back of her head to cradle her there, squirming between the skill of her fingers and her tongue. Her first finger slips into you with such ease, the curve of her finger pressing on your inner walls actually surprises you.

She was right. There’s no pain, just the sweet fill of her inside you.

“More,” you gasp, grinding down on her finger. “I want more.”

Though she doesn’t succumb immediately to your demand, she does distract you with the faintest scrape of teeth over your nipple. She sucks, swirls her tongue and pulls off with a wet pop only to descend upon your other breast.

Goosebumps erupt across your body at the sudden temperature shift. You’re focused on that when she does slip a second finger in, and this time you do feel a slight ache for the stretch of it. Still, it’s nothing compared to what you had built it up to be in your mind.

It feels amazing.

“You smell so fucking good,” she all but growls, kissing and nipping her way down your torso. “I need to taste your pussy.”

She manhandles you effortlessly into position, shouldering between your legs and sinking down onto the bed. It all happens so fast that you barely have a chance to process before that same hot, velvet plush tongue is pressing against your clit.

Your whole body jerks, but she holds you in place with just one hand. Her fingers rock in and out, curling in on every deep plunge. Her mouth had felt good elsewhere, but it’s unreal between your thighs.

She laps and sucks at you, swirling her tongue in nonsensical patterns, drinking you down with abandon. The sound of it is obscene, easily heard even as you moan aloud your pleasure.

“Oh god, oh my god, god, please, I’m–” you bite your tongue, pushing and pulling at her hair before you settle on pulling her closer, losing yourself to the building crescendo of pleasure overtaking your mind and your body.

The pressure of it is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, an ache so intense that the pressure of it crawls all the way up your spine.

Your vision goes white. Your body locks up and your voice disappears somewhere far away, leaving you aware of nothing but the overwhelming release that crashes against you like the ocean against the shore.

The pleasure isn’t centralized to your clit the way it has been in the past: this orgasm spreads to the tips of your toes, your fingers, your scalp.

Homelander soothes you through it, her hand sliding up and down your inner thigh, her fingers fucking you slow and steady. She laps lazily at your clit while it throbs and throbs, nuzzling in with a pleased noise.

When you regain use of your fingers, you detangle them from her hair so that you can pet her head, the world around you still spinning.

“Oh my god,” you echo softly, the words slurred around the edge. “S’never… been like that.”

“That’s because you’ve never been fucked by me,” she says, head turned to kiss your inner thigh, her fingers motionless inside you as she savors the fading tremors of your orgasm. As if reticent to feel the loss of your warmth, she leaves her fingers where they are even as she settles next to you, slipping her other arm underneath you to pull you close.

When she kisses you now, there’s nothing faint about your flavor. It’s heady and salty-sweet, made all the better by how languidly she licks it into your mouth.

The two of you spend a long while tangled up like that, taking your time coming down from the high. When her fingers do slip free, you feel the loss of them as keenly as any other.

“Aren’t you lucky I got to you first?” She asks, smiling against your lips. “To think you could’ve had your virginity fumbled by some jackass jabbing your taint with his dry, sad–”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, pressing your palm over her mouth. “Yes, yes, you’re right. And crude. Thank you.”

She takes hold of your hand and kisses your palm, nipping playfully at the meaty part just below your thumb. She nuzzles into your hand and sighs, looking every bit the proverbial cat that got the cream, her eyes falling shut.

A little sting of insecurity bites at you.

“I didn’t take care of you.”

Homelander’s eyes crack open, one of her arched brows lifting. “You want to?”

You nod eagerly.

She grins.

“Roll over.”

#i did it I DID IT I SURVIVED #barely.#icb how much more FLUSTERED i am when he's a woman lmao #just hits DIFFERENT okay #my lesbian heart can barely take it #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #ladylander #x reader #femslash #homelander fanfiction

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