tothisfeeling

[tothisfeeling]

CAN'T LET YOU GO • j.jareau

jennifer jareau x ex-girlfriend

You and JJ get assigned to work a case together, forced to share a motel room with only one bed. Both of you pretend you can handle it until the lights are off — then you hear her touch herself under the sheets. You crawl over and take over for her, because no one makes her fall apart like you do.

this is super explicit smut (18+). it has detailed oral sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, face-sitting, and lots of filthy dirty talk. there’s heavy focus on breasts, nipples, pussies, and how both characters’ bodies react. includes overstimulation, multiple orgasms, a little dominance from JJ (she’s fully in charge here), and really soft, clingy aftercare. also includes post-breakup emotions — they both miss each other, confess it during sex, and there’s some hurt/comfort stuff too. plenty of strong language and messy, needy sex. if any of that’s not your thing, skip it.

4.4K

yayyy, finally a jennifer fic. we can now rest our weary souls lmaooo. one bed trope cause i love these so much, ugh.

masterlists - jennifer jareau taglist

The motel room wasn’t anything special. A dingy little box off some anonymous highway exit, its walls stained a pale yellow from age and bad lighting, and the threadbare floral bedspread looked like it hadn’t been replaced since the late '90s.

The air was dry, faintly metallic, and the television in the corner flickered silently, casting blue-tinged shadows that moved across the room like restless ghosts. It would’ve been fine under any other circumstance — if there’d been two beds, or maybe if it hadn’t been her.

But you were stuck. One queen-sized bed and Jennifer Jareau, the one person who’d wrecked you so thoroughly you still tasted her name when you cried out alone at night.

You hadn’t seen her like this in almost two years. Not tangled up in sheets, not stripped down to a tank top and thin black lace panties, not so achingly close you could smell the clean, warm scent of her skin and the hint of her hair product that still made your stomach turn inside out.

You’d offered to take the floor, trying to play it cool, masking the tight ache in your throat with a dry joke. She just snorted softly, tossing her bag on the bed with a careless flick of her wrist. “We’re adults, aren’t we?” she’d murmured, and it landed somewhere between a tease and a challenge, the ghost of old habits tightening in your chest.

And you’d tried.

Really, you had.

Staring up at the cracked ceiling, the hum of the air conditioning unit filling the silence between you, pretending to sleep while your heart thumped heavy in your chest. You could feel the heat coming off her in waves, the way the mattress dipped with every breath she took.

But it was her scent that undid you first. Subtle, intimate, that warm sweetness of skin, soft musk layered with jasmine shampoo, and beneath it, something deeper, something unmistakably JJ that made your thighs clench and your nipples tighten beneath the fabric of your tank top.

Then you heard it.

A soft, trembling exhale. The rustle of sheets. The almost-silent, slick sound of fingers moving over wet flesh.

Your entire body went tight. A hot flush spread down your throat to your chest, nipples stiffening to hard little peaks against the thin cotton of your sleep shirt, the brush of the fabric suddenly unbearably sensitive. You stayed perfectly still, but your heart slammed against your ribs, the pulse in your throat pounding loud in your ears.

Another breath. Softer. Rougher.

Then her voice, low, wrecked, the kind of voice you remembered best from dark rooms and desperate hands, murmuring, “You still awake, baby?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Swallowed hard. “Jennifer…”

She turned onto her side and the light caught her just enough to make you ache. Her blonde hair was a tousled halo on the pillow, strands clinging to the flush on her cheek, lips swollen and parted around soft, shallow breaths.

One leg bent and shifted just enough to give you a clear view of her hand, two fingers slick and glistening as they moved in slow, deliberate circles over the hard, swollen nub of her clit, gliding through her wetness with easy, practiced strokes.

Her pussy was beautiful like this; flushed pink, glistening with arousal, the lips plush and puffy, spread open by the lazy drag of her fingers. The lace of her panties was soaked through, clinging obscenely to the slick curves of her cunt, leaving nothing to the imagination. The glint of moisture against her inner thigh made your mouth water, your throat tight with need.

“Couldn’t help myself,” she whispered, not even pretending to be coy. “Was lying here remembering how you used to fuck me with those filthy fingers, how you’d make my tits bounce when you made me come so hard I couldn’t breathe.”

The rush of heat that hit you was dizzying. Your breasts ached, nipples so tight now that every brush of fabric against them felt like too much, your chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths.

Your skin prickled under the weight of her voice, the sight of her touching herself so blatantly, the knowledge that she was doing it because of you.

“I miss your hands, baby,” she rasped, her fingers dipping lower, gathering more of her slick wetness and dragging it back up to circle her clit.

The muscles in her stomach fluttered, her back arching faintly, making her breasts shift beneath the thin tank top, the tight peaks of her nipples visibly straining against the fabric. You remembered how they tasted. How they felt between your lips, hot and stiff and perfect against your tongue.

“Come here,” she breathed, eyes heavy-lidded and glassy with need. “I’m so fucking wet for you, baby. Look at this.”

And you moved before you could think. Crawling over her, your chest brushing against hers, the contact electric. The twin press of your stiff, aching nipples against hers through those two thin layers of cotton made both of you shudder.

Her breath hitched, a soft, surprised moan spilling against your lips as you crushed your mouth to hers, teeth clashing, tongues tangling, years of longing and frustration exploding all at once.

She tasted like mint and heat, like regret and promise, her tongue greedy and slick as she dragged you closer, the wet drag of your nipples over hers making both of you gasp into each other’s mouths. You could feel how your breasts heaved against hers with every desperate, panting breath, the friction so sharp it left you dizzy.

Your hand found the waistband of her ruined panties and slid inside without hesitation.

God, she was soaked.

The slick heat of her cunt made your fingers slip easily through her folds, the lips thick and swollen, clit hard and throbbing against your touch. You teased her for a beat, dragging your fingers through the mess of arousal coating her, circling that aching little bud, feeling the way her hips bucked up to chase the pressure.

“Jesus, JJ,” you groaned against her throat, teeth scraping her pulse point. “You’re so fucking wet. Can’t believe you’ve been lying here like this, touching that perfect pussy, thinking about me.”

Her nails dug into your back, scratching down to the curve of your ass. “Couldn’t stop,” she gasped. “God, I’ve missed this. Missed you. Fuck, baby, no one… no one gets me this wet but you.”

You kissed down her chest, dragging the tank top down to bare one perfect breast. Her nipple was a tight, flushed pink, begging for your mouth, and you took it greedily, rolling your tongue around the stiff peak, teeth grazing just enough to make her cry out, the sound ripping straight through you. You could feel your own breasts heavy, aching, your nipples so hard now they hurt, the need coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach.

Sliding two fingers deep inside her, you felt the tight, desperate clutch of her walls around you. The wet, obscene sound of your hand working her cunt made both of you moan, your palm grinding against her clit as you fucked her hard and deep, curling your fingers to stroke that perfect spot you knew would shatter her.

“Right there,” she sobbed, hips stuttering. “Fuck, right there. Don’t stop. I needed this... needed you..”

And then, it broke.

“I miss you,” you blurted, voice wrecked and thick. “I miss you so goddamn much, Jennifer. I’ve been so fucking miserable without you.”

She clung to you, tears shimmering in those endless blue eyes, her thighs trembling around your wrist.

“I never stopped loving you,” she choked out, her cunt fluttering around your fingers. “I still sleep in your t-shirt. Still wake up aching for you, baby. God, I hate how much I still need you.”

You surged up to kiss her, rough and messy, lips crashing together as she came hard against your hand. The wet, rhythmic pulse of her pussy milking your fingers, the gush of slick warmth coating your palm, the broken sob of your name from her mouth, it was everything.

You held her through it, your own nipples aching from the constant friction, your body thrumming with need, your heart raw and wide open.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into her neck. “I was so scared you’d leave me, I left first.”

“I was never gonna leave you, you idiot,” she murmured, her voice cracked but tender. “You’re it for me.”

The room felt heavier now, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex and something sweeter underneath, like old longing unearthed. The TV was still flickering, casting restless blue light over tangled limbs and damp sheets, and the only sound was the rush of your breathing, the occasional soft hitch of hers against your throat.

Her body was pressed so tightly to yours, you could feel the rapid thud of her pulse against your skin, her damp thigh hooked over your hip, her breasts slick against yours, nipples still stiff from friction and arousal.

The aftershocks of her orgasm pulsed in the tight grip of her thighs and the subtle, involuntary little clenches of her cunt around your fingers as you kept them buried deep inside her, not ready to let her go yet.

You kissed her temple, tasted the salt of sweat and tears, and sighed. The weight of two years of silence settled into your chest like a stone.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, voice raw and unsteady, your thumb stroking the edge of her jaw. “I should’ve stayed. I was a fucking coward. I got scared and I ran, and I hurt you. I never… God, Jennifer, I never stopped wanting you. Not for a single goddamn day.”

She let out a breath that sounded like it was part laugh, part sigh, her fingers tracing idle shapes along the line of your spine. Her hair clung to the side of her flushed face, and she looked up at you with those impossible blue eyes, still hazy with the afterglow but so goddamn sharp underneath it.

“I forgave you a long time ago,” she murmured, her voice low and soft, but carrying every ounce of weight you deserved. “Even though it still pisses me off sometimes. Even though I spent months hating you for making me want you anyway. You broke my fucking heart.”

She pressed a lingering kiss to your collarbone, lips tender, a wet streak of tears smudging against your skin. “But you’ve always been it for me. And I was always gonna let you back in.”

The tight ache in your throat cracked wide open, and you ducked your head to kiss her, slow and deep and grateful, your lips parting around hers, tongues sliding together in a messy, desperate tangle that tasted like everything you never said.

Her hands slid up your sides, the rough pads of her fingers catching on the sweat-slick skin, and when she palmed your breasts through your shirt, you gasped against her mouth. Your nipples were already stiff and aching, hypersensitive from grinding against her earlier, and the sharp bolt of pleasure made your hips twitch against her.

She grinned against your lips, all smug heat and old mischief. “God, these tits,” she murmured, cupping both of them, thumbs brushing your nipples through the thin cotton.

The friction made you whimper, your back arching instinctively, breasts pushing into her hands. “I fucking missed them. Missed how they feel in my hands, missed how you moan when I suck on them, how you get so wet when I bite these perfect nipples.”

“JJ—” you gasped, but your voice cracked as she pinched both stiff peaks between her thumbs and forefingers, rolling them hard enough to make your breath catch.

“On your back,” she ordered, a low, gravelly command that sent a pulse straight to your cunt. She didn’t wait for you to comply — hands gripping your hips, she flipped you onto your back effortlessly, her body following yours down, settling between your thighs like she’d never left. The press of her still-damp panties against your aching pussy made you whimper, the drag of lace over swollen, slick flesh setting every nerve ending on fire.

“You’ve been teasing me for two fucking years,” she growled, kissing down your throat, her hands tugging your shirt up, exposing the swell of your breasts. “You owe me.”

She pulled the tank top off and tossed it aside, then sat back for a second, just staring down at you. The way her gaze raked over your bare breasts made heat bloom low in your stomach, your nipples tight and dark pink, pebbled so hard now they ached, the cool motel air ghosting over the wet trails her mouth had left earlier. You saw her eyes darken, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling with every shivery breath.

“Goddamn, baby,” she murmured, leaning down and brushing her lips over one nipple, feather-light. “Still the prettiest fucking tits I’ve ever seen.”

The moment her mouth closed around your nipple, you cried out, back arching, your hands flying to her hair. The wet, hot drag of her tongue over the sensitive peak made you see stars, your whole body clenching with need.

She suckled gently at first, then harder, teeth grazing just enough to make your hips buck up against her. The press of her breasts against your ribs, the slick heat of her cunt grinding against your thigh, the wet drag of her mouth, it was all too much, not enough, perfect.

She lavished attention on your breast like a woman starving, tongue flicking the sensitive tip, lips pulling it into her mouth, sucking hard, then switching to the other, laving it with the same reverence. Every time her teeth grazed the stiff bud, you moaned, thighs parting wider, your cunt throbbing, so wet now it slicked the inside of your thighs.

“Jennifer—fuck—please,” you begged, your voice high, desperate.

She chuckled against your skin, the vibration making your nipple ache in the best way. “Missed the way you sound when you’re desperate for me.”

Her hand slid down your stomach, fingers splayed wide, brushing over your mound before slipping between your slick folds. “God, you’re drenched,” she groaned, circling your clit in slow, lazy circles that made your hips jerk. “Missed this pussy. Missed how she melts for me.”

You whimpered, your whole body arching into her touch. “Need your mouth,” you gasped. “Please, baby.. need you to eat me. Missed your tongue.”

She grinned, eyes glittering. “You always were greedy for my mouth,” she teased, pressing a soft kiss between your breasts before kissing down your stomach, leaving a wet trail of heat in her wake. You could feel her breasts swaying against your thighs as she moved lower, the soft, slick brush of her nipples against your skin making you shudder.

And when she finally settled between your legs, her breath ghosting over your soaked, swollen cunt, you felt like you were coming apart at the seams.

“I’m not stopping till you come in my mouth,” she promised, voice wrecked and low, and then her tongue was on you — hot, wet, devastating. One long, slow lick from your entrance to your clit, then a filthy, eager groan. “Fuck, baby. Still taste so sweet.”

And you sobbed out her name, legs falling open, giving yourself over to her mouth like you always had, like no one else could ever make you.

The world narrowed down to the hot, obscene drag of Jennifer’s tongue on your clit. The way she licked you was ruthless, practiced, as if two years hadn’t passed, as if she still knew every little flick, every angle that made you squirm, every slow swirl of her tongue that made your breath hitch in your throat.

Her lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it between them with just enough pressure to make you cry out, thighs trembling against her shoulders. Her fingers dug into your hips, holding you down as you writhed, hips lifting, seeking more, even when it felt like too much.

Your breasts ached, nipples still tight and sensitive, dragging against the damp sheets with every desperate buck of your hips. The cool air, the warm brush of your own hair against your bare skin, and the relentless pressure of her mouth combined into a kind of sensory overload, your whole body vibrating with the sharp edge of release.

You could feel the slick heat of her cunt still pressed against your thigh as she moved, her own arousal slicking your skin as she moaned against your pussy like she was getting herself off just from tasting you.

“Godfuck, Jennifer—fuck, I’m gonna—” you gasped, voice high, broken.

She hummed against your clit, the vibration tipping you over the edge.

Your whole body seized, hips arching high, a helpless, ragged moan spilling from your lips as your orgasm slammed through you. Your pussy clenched, gushing against her mouth, and she groaned like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted, not easing up for a second, her tongue lapping up every drop, chasing every tremor of your cunt until you were twitching beneath her.

Your breathing was ragged, your limbs loose and shaking, your breasts heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Every nerve ending felt raw, your skin hypersensitive. But Jennifer wasn’t done with you. Not even close.

Before you could fully come down, she was crawling up your body, kissing her way up your stomach, between the soft, flushed mounds of your breasts, leaving wet, possessive marks along your skin. Her nipples brushed yours as she moved, the twin peaks dragging together sending a sharp jolt of overstimulated pleasure through you.

Then she straddled your chest, her thighs framing your face, her pussy glistening, lips puffy and flushed, already soaking with slick. The sight of it made your mouth water, your throat tight with need.

“Not finished with you yet, baby,” she rasped, her voice dark and wrecked, fingers threading into your hair. “Been dreaming about riding your mouth for two fucking years. You’re gonna make me come, and you’re not stopping till I tell you.”

You barely had time to groan before she shifted up, lowering herself onto your face, her soaked cunt pressing against your mouth. The heat of her, the slick, messy wetness coating your lips, made you moan, and she shuddered at the vibration, her thighs tensing around your head.

You wrapped your arms around her thighs, pulling her down harder against your face, your tongue darting out to lap at her, tasting yourself on her skin mixed with the sharp, sweet musk of her arousal.

She was drenched — her pussy so wet it slicked over your mouth as you dragged your tongue through her folds, circling her clit in slow, teasing strokes before flicking it harder, savoring the sharp gasp she let out.

“Fuck, just like that,” she moaned, rolling her hips, grinding her pussy against your mouth. “God, I fucking missed this mouth.”

You angled your head, flattening your tongue to her clit, flicking it rapidly, then circling it slowly, savoring every sound she made. Her thighs shook against your ears, her hands tightening in your hair as she rode your mouth, chasing her own release.

Her pussy was perfect. Soft, swollen lips parting easily around your tongue, every stroke met with a fresh gush of slick that you eagerly lapped up. The taste of her was intoxicating, familiar in a way that made your chest ache. Every time your lips closed around her clit, sucking it between them, she let out a ragged, desperate sound, hips stuttering, cunt clenching.

“Baby, fuck—I’m close,” she gasped, voice breaking. “Don’t stop. Oh, fuck...don’t you fucking stop...”

You groaned against her, flicking your tongue faster, sliding two fingers up to press inside her while you sucked her clit, feeling the way her walls gripped you, hot and fluttering. She was so tight, so wet it made a filthy, wet sound as you fucked her, her body trembling on the brink.

“I’m gonna come—baby, fuck, I’m coming—” she sobbed, her entire body tensing as her orgasm slammed through her. She cried out, her pussy clenching around your fingers, slick gushing over your mouth, and you didn’t stop.

You kept licking her, tasting every drop, feeling the sharp tremors wrack her body as she rode it out, hips rolling against your face.

When she finally sagged against you, trembling and breathless, she slid down your body, her mouth finding yours in a messy, filthy kiss, tasting herself on your tongue.

And you knew without question, neither of you would be sleeping tonight.

The air between you was thick, humid with the scent of sex, skin sticky with sweat and slick. Every inch of the sheets was damp, tangled in disarray around your bodies. Your breasts ached, nipples flushed and sore from her teeth and mouth, your pussy swollen and still pulsing faintly from how thoroughly she’d wrecked you.

JJ lay sprawled beside you, her hair a wild, damp halo against the pillow, lips red and kiss-bruised, her skin streaked with flushed heat. You traced a fingertip over the sheen of sweat on her stomach, watching the way her muscles twitched under your touch.

She caught your wrist before you could pull away, her thumb dragging slow, lazy circles over your skin. There was a gleam in her eyes now, half-possessive, half-playful, but softened at the edges with something warmer.

“One more,” she murmured, voice rough from moaning and begging. “I wanna watch you.”

The words made heat pool low in your belly all over again. She grabbed your other wrist and guided your hand down between your legs, her blue gaze dropping to where your fingers slipped through the slick mess between your thighs.

You were so wet still, your folds puffy and glistening, swollen from the abuse of her mouth and hands. She bit her lip as you circled your clit, a low groan rumbling in her throat.

“God, look at that pussy,” she breathed, settling back against the pillows and spreading her own thighs, dragging her fingers through her soaked folds. Her cunt was gorgeous, puffy, flushed, her clit visibly swollen, still twitching from the orgasm you’d wrung out of her. She slipped two fingers inside herself without hesitation, letting out a filthy moan as she fucked them deep.

“Do it with me,” she ordered softly. “Wanna come watching you lose it, baby.”

You didn’t hesitate, circling your clit with one hand while sliding two fingers of the other deep into your still-sensitive pussy. The stretch made you gasp, hips lifting, your cunt clenching down greedily around the intrusion. JJ groaned at the sight, fucking herself a little harder, her eyes locked on your face.

The room filled with nothing but the wet sounds of fingers working desperate cunts and breathless, filthy moans. Your breasts heaved with every ragged breath, nipples tight and aching, the friction of your own hand and the cool air making your skin prickle. JJ’s free hand cupped one perfect breast, her thumb flicking over her nipple as her head dropped back against the pillow.

“Missed watching you like this,” she groaned, her hips stuttering. “Missed seeing you fuck yourself, baby. God, you’re so fucking gorgeous when you come.”

“Missed you,” you panted, your fingers working faster, your clit so sensitive it was bordering on painful. “God, Jennifer, watching you touch yourself — fuck — you’re so hot like this.”

She let out a sharp, breathy moan, fingers moving faster, the wet slap of her hand against her cunt obscene and perfect. Her breasts bounced with every thrust of her hips, sweat beading on her flushed skin. The sound of her, the filthy words, the sight of her falling apart while staring straight into your eyes sent you spiraling.

“I’m so close,” you gasped, thighs trembling. “I wanna come with you.”

“Right now, baby,” she ordered, her voice rough, shaking. “Come for me — let me see you fucking fall apart.”

The orgasm hit like a freight train, your pussy clenching around your fingers as a sob broke from your throat. Your vision blurred, muscles locking tight as you rode it out, every nerve ending screaming. You heard JJ cry out too, her body jerking, a gush of slick soaking her hand as her cunt spasmed around her fingers.

For long, breathless moments, you lay there in the messy aftermath, your hand still buried between your thighs, chest heaving, sweat cooling on your skin.

JJ was the first to move, sliding her fingers from her soaked pussy with a wet sound, bringing them to her mouth. She sucked them clean slowly, eyes locked on yours, moaning softly at the taste. “Goddamn,” she sighed, grinning, lazy and sated. “Still the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

You let out a weak laugh, your own fingers sticky and glistening. JJ caught your wrist again, pulling your hand up and sucking your fingers clean one by one, her tongue curling around them, eyes half-lidded with filthy satisfaction.

When she finished, she tugged you into her arms, wrapping you up tight, your head against her chest, the steady beat of her heart loud in your ear. One of her hands slid up to cup your breast, thumb stroking over your still-sensitive nipple, but it was gentle now, almost soothing.

“Not letting you go again,” she whispered into your hair, her voice raw and heavy with meaning. “You’re mine, baby. Mine. And this time, I’m not fucking letting you leave.”

You pressed a kiss to her collarbone, sighing against her skin. “Not going anywhere,” you murmured back, and you meant it.

JJ smiled, pressing one last, tender kiss to your temple before pulling the covers up over both of you, tucking you in close, her arms a secure, unyielding cage around you. The room smelled like sex and sweat and everything you’d missed, and for the first time in two years, you felt like you could finally fucking sleep.

Wrapped in Jennifer Jareau’s arms, knowing neither of you would let go again.

[tothisfeeling]

MILE HIGH CLUB

summary — after a week away with natasha, she’d thought you’d be pliant and soft on the flight home, but you’ve had other plans in mind since she first booked the trip last year

warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, domestic dominance, spanking, public play, elements of exhibitionism, public humiliation, panty handoff mid-flight, bratting, verbal warning, hair pulling, teasing, degradation, mention of praise kink, pet names, bladder control, light piss kink, fingering, orgasm denial, hickies, mention of oral fixation, neck kisses, mile high club, punishment, whining, cuddling, mention of headspace, crying, packing, strap-on, condescending tone, ¿maybe one small instance of attempted gaslighting?, cockwarming mention, dirty talk, elements of aftercare, mean dom natasha, men/minors dni

authors note — the title does in fact say it all, my horny friends.

Natasha’s palm is clammy, but it clamps tightly around your hand as bright lighting casts white refractions on speckled tile floors beneath your mismatched shoes only tied together by brand. Designed this way only to conceal the unavoidable stains and scuffs that would accumulate through the decades as millions pushed and shoved their way to undisclosed and ever changing destinations, Natasha continues to remain your anchor as she guides you through the terminal with one hand on your shared carry-on and the other on you. 

“Let me take it.” You argue, cheeks puffed out, grip loose and passive around her palm as you make little effort to keep up with her broad steps on the speckled tiles. Notably, you never made a move to interlock your fingers with Natasha’s when she first grabbed your hand after security and pulled you to the left when you’d attempted to stomp right, and she’s stubbornly allowing you to continue asserting your personal autonomy and remain connected as little as possible, despite the fact that you have no idea where you’re going and she doesn’t think you’ve been in a clear state since you first rolled out of bed to pee at barely three. 

“No.” She answers simply, sharply. You’re already functioning on time you don’t have, and it’s truly no fault of either of yours that there was a twelve car pile-up on I-405, but she’s not in the mood to dilly dally with you in the middle of LAX no matter where fault lies, and you’ve already pushed every button she has today. “Hurry up.” She directs instead, and it’s the final push that has your skin prickling just from contact with her.

You don’t know what your problem is. You want her. In every sense of the word, but you’ve done nothing all morning besides attempt to work your way under her skin and sink your claws into her exposed, probably pulsating, nerves. It’s the gruesome imagery that severs your ability to maintain any physical connection, because truly what the fuck is wrong with you right now, and with as much briskness as you can muster, you pull your hand away from hers and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Do not do this right now.” Natasha’s voice cuts through to you clearly in the overstimulating crowd of voices, beeping, and squeaking wheels that either need to be tossed away entirely or shown a serious amount of WD-40. It’s clear, sharp, an undeniable warning that attempts to scorn your skin and have you back peddling into submission, but it only irritates you further as you curl your fingers around your biceps and pointedly stalk ahead of her. “I’m serious, now is not the time.” 

You think she groans behind you, but it could’ve just been one of the few other hundred thousand people around you, all rushing around in their own journeys, but still padding down against the same speckled tiles. Your breathing hitches when an arm snakes around your waist, surprise claiming your feelings for a handful of seconds before you recognized the heavy weight of her hand on your hip, fingers curled into the waistband of your sweat shorts folded down twice around your waist — still too big despite the amendments and drawstring; still perfect for her to curl her fingers into with just enough space for her knuckle to dig into the meat of your hip.

“You’re going to have to let me do something! You can’t open the boarding passes with a fucking death grip on my shorts and the damn carry-on!” You seeth, blinded with frustration, and overstimulation, and the all encompassing need to just be in her. In her skin, her clothes, her pussy. Any way you can manage it. 

It happens before you can even process her fingers leaving your waistband, but before you turn the corner, terminal B clearly and proudly in sight with a stampede of passengers already lined up at the wing and check desk, her palm, open and flat, claps against the globe of your ass barely concealed by the black shorts that slowly ride up your thighs and fall down your waist with every step. She overcompensates for the thick fabric, and in the seconds that follow the spreading sting, you know she’d reeled her hand back far for that one, and at least three people had seen the full encounter, let alone the tail end that echoed through the room that somehow felt eerily quiet now.

Your cheeks flame with heat you’re not sure she can even see on your skin, but you feel it fully as it burns down your body in a fast pursuit to claim you. To say you hadn’t been expecting that was an understatement, and you’re so thrown off that when you glance down at your converse quickly padding across the speckled tile floors, finally keeping an equal pace with Natasha, the brown and gold specks look different somehow. 

Her hand falls on your waist again, heavy and possessive, but you don’t attempt to shove her away again as she pulls you in close to her side and continues to drag the carry-on along with one hand, her fingers straining just to maintain the unequally dispersed weight inside. “Knock it off. Understand me?” 

“Mmm.” It’s a simple whine, a petulant response that boils her blood and you know it, but you don’t give her any time to further scold you on your lack of manners and serious attitude problem. Instead, your eyes scan the terminal and the surrounding booths and carved out entrances, an illuminated sign displaying a single woman’s silhouette beside a water fountain with an automatic spout. “I have to pee. Do you want me to fill your water?” It’s a soft question, a sweet one too. Your aim isn’t to cover up the hours of poking and prodding, but a sudden reprieve washes over you as the reality of your cross country flight settles in. You should’ve thought about that hours ago. Natasha knows she did. 

“Did I ask about either of those things?” She scoffs, continuing to drag you toward the sea of people ever so slowly becoming a single file line as more passengers travel through the tunnel toward the plane, filing into seats you hope aren’t directly next to yours. 

Your cheeks flame again, hot and tingling with flustered humiliation as your eyes flicker down to the floor where yellow converse still stomp over speckled tile. Your hand curls into the hemline of her top, tight and possessive as your knuckles twinge pale. “Oh.” You whisper, confronted with the crudeness of her control that you’d allowed yourself to so easily forget you gave over to her blindly and willingly. It’s not often she extends her reign like this; nitpicks the miniscule details of your routine, but evidently you’ve pushed her beyond the point of refined control. diving headfirst into a sea of strict actions and hard to earn permission. “No.” 

Natasha makes a sound high in her throat, something similar to a scoff or maybe a groan, you’re not entirely sure what the origins of the sound were, only that it rattled her chest and you realize just how tightly flush against her side you are when it vibrates your bones tantalizingly. “No, who?” Her fingers pinch the flesh of your hip, right above where the strings of your thong roll together from the constant friction of your thighs padding and stomping through the Los Angeles airport. 

“No, Daddy.” Your head shakes, sweeps from left to right. You’re sure you look the perfect image of a scolded child with your shoulders pulled up to your studded earlobes and your eyes downcast and twitchy as they anticipate Natasha’s order to direct your focus on her; just her, only her. 

“Look at me.” You’d been expecting it, but you still find hesitation slows your reaction time as you pull your eyes off the speckled tiles, trace her sweatpants and her baggy hoodie, over her jaw that’s tense and locked with not only frustration, but genuine annoyance. She’s annoyed at the situation. At the traffic that pushed your arrival time back two hours. At the fact that you’d missed early boarding because of it. At the fact that you just cannot seem to fall in line and help yourself just once. 

“Hi.” You whisper softly, captivated by the green of her eyes that seems to glow beneath the bright, unforgiving lighting that subsequently highlights every tired pore on her face. She hadn’t looked so worn down yesterday when you’d been sprawled out on a boat, but travel unveils the worst sides of yourselves. 

Natasha’s eyes soften for only a moment, her jaw loosening as she levels her stare on your own eyes, drinking you in and forcing herself to take a deep breath now that all she has to focus on is you. “Hi, baby girl.” She greets you back, only because she feels rude when she doesn’t, not because your momentary lapse of soft, delicate submission gets you off her list and into good graces. “You’re going to hold it until I say that you can go. You’re going to turn your damn ears on and listen to me like a big girl, or I swear, malysh, your ass will be over my knee the second we get home tonight. Little girls that listen to their Daddy’s get treated nicely, do I need to remind you that girls who act like brats get treated as such?” 

Truthfully, you wouldn’t really mind being reminded all that much of where misbehaving gets you, but there’s a difference in her punishments when she’s aiming to torment and get even, and just correcting behaviors that she expects from you regardless. Right now, having your ass turned red doesn’t sound like the most horrible outcome for an entire day, but you know that by the time the plane touches down in Jersey, you’re more than likely not going to want anything more than to fall into the car beside her and listen to the engine burn gas as she presses the pedal into the floor and shreds rubber to get back to Manhattan in record time. You know that unless you safeword, nothing will get you out of a fate she seals verbally, so you choose this moment to reclaim all the self preservation skills she’s pawned off on you for circumstances outside of her control, and nod your head breathlessly as your mind wanders to the ebbing sting dissipating from your left asscheck. “Okay Daddy.” You whisper, eyes glassy, lost somewhere in space that only she can reach out to and grab. She makes no effort to meet you halfway though, her jaw locking once again like you’ve missed something vital. 

“I’ll listen to you and stop being a brat, Daddy.” She settles, grabbing onto your elbow and dragging you toward the end of the line where an elderly man wheels along an army green tote bag that must’ve been from a stint in the Army, but has evidently been turned in a bag of all trades as his wrinkled sausage fingers dig between the midway open zipper to retrieve a charging cord and a chain that you think keeps a house key from slipping to the depth of the carry-on. “Say it.” 

You’ve been told all your life that your lashes are envious, and sometimes you feel like they’re luxuriously long when you layer just the right amount of mascara over them ahead of a night out, but when you’re most aware of their length is in moments like this, when your eyelids bat so dreamily up at Natasha that you can feel the tips of your eyelashes flutter against your cheekbones and then your brow bone when you finally regain focus on her stare. “I’ll listen to you and stop being a brat, Daddy.” You whisper, beneath a trance that is purely just her and the easy way she somehow commands your entire body even when you don’t want to lean into it. 

Natasha hums, half-satisfied. She knows you better than you know yourself at this point, and it’s something that she holds onto with so much pride and passion. She’s subdued you now, gotten you twisted up into her spell and pliant beneath her wing like a baby bird, but she knows that you’re coming undone at the very core of your being whether you realize it or not. She’s given you a lot this week. Orgasms, denials, extravagant scenes that really just riled the both of you up more than it helped anything, but there hasn't been the stability you both had created at home without even realizing. You’re going to push her again, because she’s let you get away with far too much this week, and every time she’s really been at her wits ready to snap and remind you of your place, someone has interrupted and yet another thing got swept under the rug — something that never normally happened, but was now just second nature. She needs this just as much as you do, but the difference is she’s in control. Not you. The difference is she knows everything, and all you know is half of what she tells you because your brain can’t process it fast enough to get it all in a cohesive string.

“All you need is for someone to tell you what to do and you get all dumb, huh?” She laughs softly, beneath her breath but not nearly quite enough to avoid the old man ahead of you hearing it. His shoulders square, somewhat defensively, and you think his chin cranes as if he’s assessing the situation from his peripheral, but Natasha shoots him a glare before you can burrow into her chest and sink in shame that does successfully subdue you for the rest of the night, effectively ending any and all attempt at confrontation on his behalf. “That’s all it takes to empty out that little brain? That’s right baby, focus on me. Just on me. Only ever me.”

As it turns out, Natasha couldn’t balance the carry-on, your waist, and the boarding passes while maintaining a steady pace through the gate like everyone else had, but without missing a beat she’d turned her attention on you, told you to ‘stay still’, and scanned both electronic passes with a smug, dominating smile to the desk attendant and a scowl of perfectionism toward you over her shoulder when she let the brisk flushness fall off of her shoulders. She’d never admit that the slight trip up had knocked her confidence a little, and she was beyond grateful that you were in no state of mind to pick up on how her cheeks flushed the slightest shade of pink as she overplayed the interaction in her head.

”What row?” You question, stumbling down the path toward the plane without much intention other than to find your seats and sink into the cheap blue cushions that pad plastic prisons armed with floating devices and breathing masks. Sometimes it's a comforting thought to dwell on the safety features wired into the basic makeup of an airplane, other times it feels like escaping certain death when the plane does touch down in one piece. 

“Nobody fucking told you to start walking again, first of all.” Natasha huffs breath her breath, taking two large steps to catch up with you and relink her arm around your waist as she steels you closer to the center of the platform, mildly concerned about the diseases you’d contract if you tumbled into the thick plastic walls like you’d been looking like you were going to. You’re too dazed to flush at her easy dominance, too strung out to really harp on how simply she’s taking control of even the most mundane elements of your activities. “Second of all, I’ll worry about what row we’re in. All you have to do is stay nice and pretty at my side and keep your hands to yourself.” Her tone tightens at the tail end, her fingers grabbing at your wrist and pulling it in sharply when she catches your fingers sneaking out to run along the wall in her peripheral. 

Your lips downturn at the specific mention of your wandering hands, your eyes flickering down to look at how her fingers still hold your wrist tightly, not willing to let go until its no longer possible to walk side-by-side like this. She guides you through the hallway strongly, like an unwavering anchor in a still sea, but you’re a buoy, constantly bobbing, constantly fighting waves, constantly on the verge of drowning as water engulfs you for seconds that tick by longer and longer until it feels like there isn’t any air left in your lungs and all you can do is act with impulses you don’t think about nearly enough. 

You struggle against her when the plane comes into view, wrestling your hand out of her grip only to tap the side of the plane with a pleased smile and wait patiently for her to do the same and step ahead of you down the single file row where the pilot and three stewardesses great you with wide, seemingly commercial smiles that you wonder if they bought specifically for this position; this lifestyle. One of them eyes Natasha up a little too long, sweeping her gaze across your girlfriend's tousled and beach waved hair that falls over her shoulders and covers the strings of her grey hoodie that have been bitten to shreds by you over the course of your relationship. You don’t know why she won’t just throw it away and get a new one, and she doesn’t know why you continue to ask her questions she thinks the answers are silly to.

Natasha huffs softly in response to the blatant staring by the flight attendant. She doesn’t take much consideration for it, rather shuffling ahead of you to keep moving down the row with effectiveness that hopefully contributes to the plane pulling off the runway at the right time, despite all of the chaos you’d already ensued. She reaches back for your hand, and softly, you allow your fingers to lace for the first time that day as she drags you past first class into business, only smiling down at somebody when they do it first, and only ever making eye contact when she has no choice; when her hand is forced. It’s not a far walk to your seats, but every row from the front of the plane to Aisle G is speckled with people that had managed to arrive on time, and glare up at you with dead expressions as if your sole entrance onto the plane was the reason they hadn’t blasted off into the sky yet. 

“Window seat.” She ducks her head down, cranes her body into yours just enough for her chest to brush your shoulder, pert nipples concealed by thick fabric suddenly hard and pebbled against your already buzzing skin, overstimulated from sensations and sounds you can’t avoid at all. Her words are stone, they cut through you with effectiveness that has your knees crumbling. You’re more than thankful nobody’s claimed the aisle seat yet, leaving you no body to awkwardly stumble over top of. Your knees are not steady enough to survive that kind of close quarter gymnastics, and generally you’re just not quite sure Natasha’s even bendy enough to succeed at all. It’s still cramped, nonetheless, and your cheeks are puffed in annoyance once again by the time you plop down into the seat and cross your arms over your chest, fingertips digging into the skin of your biceps. ”Buckle.” Natasha adds next, still in the aisle, preparing to place the carry-on in the overhead bin once the man to her immediate left gets his in securely. 

The gentle prompting like you’re nothing more than a child on this trip with her has your cheeks flushing pink visibly now, no longer able to hide the humiliation and warmth that wraps around your spin tightly, unwilling to let go. She hadn’t treated you like this when you’d first begun your vacation, there weren't directions, or controlled behaviors to adhere to. You’ve been tired since you woke up the first time, exhausted from the very inside of your body and overstimulated simply by the continuous lack of familiarity. It’s not your fault. Natasha’s built security into your routines so perfectly. She’s broken you down and fit you right into the palm of her hand so elaborately over the years that you need it now just to regulate your emotions, even when you don’t realize what it is you’re actually craving in the moment; without her guidance to get to the root of it all, it’s her that’s the answer. 

A soft whine falls off your lips when you clasp the buckle together over your belly, the metal jaws pressing just right against your abdomen to remind you of your full bladder. Her words wash over you again, ‘You’re going to hold it until I say that you can go’. She has complete control over you. You gave it to her years ago. Your cunt clenched around nothing, desperation filling your bones with something petulant and pitiful as your panties dampen with an onslaught of arousal that drips out of you tantalizingly. 

“What’s the matter, malen’kaya shlyushka (little slut)?” If Natasha caught the whine from the aisle, you don’t want to consider who else had heard it. You sink further down into your seat, fingers working frantically to loosen the buckle and alíviate some of the pressure that both torments you and excites you. If anyone knows Russian within a three row span, there’s a definitive certainty that both heard and understood Natasha clear as day. Another whine falls off of your lips, this time genuinely saddened and submissive as your fingers still on the metal jaws of the buckle and instead seek comfort in the dainty chain around your neck, a single pendant handing just above the swell of your breasts, but quickly finds a place between your lips as your allow paralysis to captivate you beneath her strong stare for a handful of seconds. 

Natasha easily takes up the entirety of the middle seat, and without much of a fight you let her take the armrest that separates the two of you, leaning most of her weight onto it as she crams her body into the limited space that's left once she gets the backpack beneath the chair ahead of her feet. The buckle is still uncomfortable around your belly, and it’s made worse when she huffs in false concern and reaches down to tighten it more, until you’re squirming and your tongue presses into the harsh edge of the pendant between your lips to distract from the desperate need to pee. 

“No, thank you.” You whine, attempting to win some kind of sympathy from her as you bat her fingers away from the buckle when they attempt to wiggle between your skin and the slowly warming metal, evidently intent to push you to the very edge before the wheels even retract. 

“Can you hold it?” Natasha asks, only taking her hand away from your waist to fasten her own seatbelt and readjust the way her toes were twisted beneath the bulky backpack. 

“I don’t want to hold it.” You whine, soft and petulantly as you lean further into the window, seeking out the chilled cold of hard textured plastic against an inch of exposed skin. The material of the seat is cold against the backs of your thighs, and no matter how you shift nothing warms it up any faster. 

Natasha scoffs, her eyes blazing with frustration as she works a piece of gum between her tense jaw. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to hold it. I asked if you could. This is not the place to prove how messy I can make you, moya lyubov.” At this point, you’re certain that everyone on the plane is clued into the conversation happening between you, but when a middle aged woman sits down in the aisle seat, smiling pleasantly, entirely oblivious, something inside you snaps like a twig on an overpopulated path, trampled over and forgotten about as you dive into Natasha’s shoulder, aiming to hide every inch of yourself in her warmth. 

A hand, her hand, tangled into the hair at the nape of your neck, just intimate enough to look passionate, comforting, to the people behind you, but her knuckles lock in a way that’s anything but soothing. Your sharp intake of air is muffled by the fabric of her hoodie before the leverage of her fingers pulling at your scalp creates enough distance for her to lower her face to yours, her forehead resting against yours, her eyes looking into yours, only focusing on the swirl of colors she’s been trying to memorize for years. “You don’t get to hide after being a brat.” She seethes, beyond annoyed that you thought she’d allow you to find solitude in her body when you hadn’t listened to a single thing she’d asked of you all morning. “Can you hold it, or are you going to have an accident like a little baby? My little baby.” 

She knows what she’s doing, but you don’t have the sense to fight the alluring comfort of her complete dominance. “I can hold it.” You whisper, finally finding your voice, still staring deep into her eyes trying to block out everything else around you. 

“Mmm. Good.” She hums, and it’s so close to what you want to hear, but it fails to miss the mark at the last second, and your heart sinks at the prolonged absence of praise that follows your path through the day. She’s usually overly affectionate, not always with her actions, but usually with her words. Even after all these years, you forget how easily she’s willing to take praise from you just to lay the foundation of her expectations. “Let me know if that changes.” 

You frown when she pulls away, suddenly cold without her heavy touch on your skin. A year ago, when she’d first booked this trip out to California to visit with Yelena at her fashion university, you’d concocted all kinds of scenarios that could unfold between the East coast and the West. You’d fucked Natasha a lot of places, but never an airplane, and it enrages you to know that she’s shared the experience with somebody else. What pisses you off even more is that there’s a strap on beneath the loose fabric of her sweatpants, you know because you watched her settle the harness of her hips in the bathroom before you left the hotel, and not once has she allowed you to feel it, touch it, kiss it, take it. You made this bed, but you don’t want to lay in it. 

You can’t listen to the flight attendant when she comes to the center of the row and begins to go over the exit strategies and safety protocols at length. Your head is fuzzy, filled with static blackness that you can’t really see through at all, but distinct shadows are still recognizable when you focus hard enough on them. At one point, your hand dropped into Natasha’s lap during the speil, entirely unconscious and innocent, born from only a desire to feel her comfort for its purest affection, but she removed it with a pointed huff seconds later, before you could even begin to venture toward her core, or the thigh where you can just hardly see the tip bulging against the material. 

You sat like that for three hours. With your hands in your lap, your face pressed up against the side of the plane as your eyes traced the clouds and ebbing sunlight that vanished slowly as the afternoon carried on. At one point, the flight attendant had come by with snacks. Biscoff cookies in a neat little red wrapper, and soda that fizzled in the clear plastic cup and taunted you without even taking a sip. 

Eventually, it got to a point where you couldn’t sit still. Your foot had been tapping against the floor for ten minutes before even that wasn’t enough to take your mind off of the need pooling in your belly or the desperation to pee slowly driving you crazy and turning your veins to electrified live wires that fizzle with energy you can’t escape. The cookie had crumbled on your fingertips, and as you sweep your thumb over your pointer finger for the third time, still feeling the coarse granules on your skin, you can’t take it anymore. Something has to give before you explode. 

“Where are you going?” Natasha strains to question you quietly when your fingers pry apart the buckle still tightly around your waist, despite the fact that hers had been unclasped and dangling over the edge of the seat since the seatbelt light had flickered dim after takeoff. Her fingers hook around your wrist, keeping you pinned to the seat as she leans in close to whisper in your ear. “Daddy’s slut gonna have an accident? Or did she just forget that she’s lost the privilege to choose when she goes potty?” 

Every ounce of peace that you’d found since she’d scolded you in the terminal dissipates in an instant, tension bubbling beneath your skin as you rip your wrist away from her touch and glare back at her sharply. “I need to wash my fucking hands.” You seethe, quiet enough for only her to hear, but loud enough, unfortunately, for her to hear. 

Natasha’s jaw clicks, and you know that if you were anywhere else, your ass would be fire hydrant red without care for whoever was around to witness the scene. She grinds her teeth together, fingers curling into the arm rest as she nods. “Still not done, huh?” 

You’re smart enough not to respond, but not smart enough to stay seated or ask her nicely to relieve your bladder. That’s what she’s waiting for. For you to ask nicely. She’d like an apology too, maybe even some begging, but all she’s really holding out for is a white flag being waved from the shorelines. “Excuse me.” You whisper sweetly to the woman beside Natasha, half hovering over your girlfriend as you wiggle out of the row. She smiles kindly, though tiredly, and moves her legs out of the way for you to pass by. 

The toe of Natasha’s shoe taps your ankle. A final warning to think about your actions that you allow to roll right off your shoulders. The afternoon is slowly passing you by, and it's not late, but the clouds are thick, and even though most windows between row G and the bathroom are open, there’s a particular darkness that seeps in. 

You hadn’t been too unbearably cold. The seat beneath your thighs never warmed up, and without Natasha you felt chilly from the inside out, but once you stepped into the bathroom goosebumps prickled your skin thickly. Everything around you felt off, slightly dystopian even. The rounded edges on all of the appliances, the greyscale aesthetic of the room, the constant whirling of engines and wind. You were floating. Lost in the endless stimulation that isn’t even the stimulation you need. 

You do wash your hands. Twice because the first time didn’t feel sufficient enough after a full morning touching just about anything and everything a few million people had also touched as well. You didn’t pee, even though just looking down at the toilet had your thighs pressing together and a sweat breaking out across your forehead as you tried to focus on the original task at hand; the thing you’d been planning and mulling over for twelve months before Natasha had gone and messed up every plan you had simply by being herself in a way you’d failed to predict at the time. 

Your panties are damp, and admittedly not your most attractive pair, but Natasha loves how easily your arousal shows against the baby blue material, so you’d packed them anyway. They slip down your thighs easily, crumbling onto the floor for only a second before you step out entirely and pick them up between slightly damp fingers, droplets of persistent water still falling from your knuckles every couple seconds if you’re still for long enough. 

Your shorts are baggy enough to conceal the bulge of delicate cotton fabric when you shove it into your pocket in a ball, but you still take a moment to fix your appearance in the mirror as best you can. You flatten out the sleeves of your crewneck, pull your shorts up just the slightest bit higher in an attempt to wipe away the trail of glimmering wetness on your inner thigh. 

It could’ve been two minutes, or it could’ve been ten. Time hasn’t felt like anything substantial since you climbed into the Uber with half open eyes and a deep pout, but it’s especially twisted now as all sense of light is blocked out; not a single window in the bathroom offering additional light. 

It couldn’t have been too long. Nobody glanced up at you in concern or knowing pity like they’d concluded the worst from your escape, and Natasha didn’t seem to appear all that untrustworthy in your actions either, nodding in satisfaction as you stumbled down the aisle like she could tell you’d listened to her. She probably could tell. Without the baby blue panties doing its best to conceal moisture, every brush of your thighs as you take a step jolts through your core, and it prickles the sensation of desperation already all consuming within you. 

You scoot past the woman again. This time she looks half asleep, her head tilted toward the right as she uses her shoulder as leverage. She doesn’t seem to mind your passing, or shuffling her feet when it becomes evident somehow there’s even less room to pass then their was the first time, but your belly still burns with anxiety that’s multiplied by the sinking floaty feeling in your head Natasha just won’t seem to help you with. It’s entirely lost on you that she’s waiting for an apology. That at the very least, she’d be willing to be your anchor if you just said you were sorry. 

You can’t fight the magnetic attraction to her body when you sink down into the seat again. Your head falls onto her shoulder, your hand into her lap while one remains in yours. For the first time, Natasha doesn’t fight it, but she makes no effort to loop her arm around you and pull you closer. 

It’s ten minutes of silence and your body seeking warmth before the woman in the aisle seat lulls off, her wrinkly arms crossed over her shoulder somehow uncomfortably, but she’s managing just fine as lips part just an inch with a deep breath. It’s in that moment that the panties in your pocket feel like they’re burning a hole through the thick material, and you fish them out with emboldened fingertips that drop them into her lap brazenly — for anyone to see if they’re paying enough attention. 

The baby blue color has lost its softness as arousal dampened the material, and as Natasha glances down, assesses what’s in her lap and subsequently what’s not on you, her jaw clenches so tightly you fear it may just break or lock like that indefinitely. 

“Do you fucking understand that you are playing with fire right now? Fire, baby girl.” She asks, her voice low, threatening. Your eyes are an endless galaxy as they float around her face, down her neck, her torso, until they reach the waistband of her sweatpants. You can’t help it. You’re not listening to her and she knows it. She’s accepted that you’re so far gone into your head you don’t even know how to get yourself out of trouble, but when your hand grabs onto the strap and gives it a testing jerk until the harness rocks into her clit and shoots pleasure through her spine that’s been electrified since last night, she can’t keep her own impulses under control anymore. 

“Daddy.” There’s a whine in your voice, an undercurrent of need that cannot be quenched with warnings or petty humiliation that barely strikes your skin. Your eyes hold a million uncharted constellations, sparkling and glimmering just out of reach as Natasha removes your hand from her lap and drops it back into yours. 

She thinks you’re pacified for a moment, competent enough to recognize the clear threat of following her unspoken directions right now, but when she reaches to pocket the panties, because begging discovered like this is not how she wants to spend her day, you lean in close again, insatiable and needy as you coil clammy knuckles into her hair and attach your lips to her neck, flicking your tongue against the textured skin slightly salty from the Burbank air. Natasha stumbles for a moment. Her eyes close. 

“What the fucks gotten into you?” She seethes, coming to her senses when your kiss becomes a bruising suck, tight pressure shocking her system enough to have every dominating impulse fighting for a chance to break free all at once. “Daddy lets petty shit slide for a week and now you don’t know how to behave at all? Was the freedom too much for you, baby? Is it all Daddy’s fault that her little girl is acting like a slutty little brat right now?” 

The tables without warning turning startled you completely, combined with the way she moves to grip your left thigh, prying it away from your right until her fingers find a place between the apex of your thighs, teasing the existing trail of wetness that slickens skin, teasing your lips that she pulls apart with two fingertips, allowing your pebbled, aching, needy clit to pulse unprotected along the seam line of the sweatshorts. 

“Couldn’t even behave like a good girl, so now Daddy has to punish you right here.” Natasha scoffs, and without warning a single digit claims your entrance, making room for its existence with or without permission. Your walls, already sensitive, already clenched so impossibly tightly to distract from the sharp sensation of fullness in your bladder that has your toes curling past the border of pain and pleasure. “Who’s in charge here, malysh?”

Her fingers, thick, skilled, typically impossibly quick moving within your walls, remain still as she levels her eyes with yours, entirely unmoving, unblinking, waiting for your response. When you don’t answer fast enough, trying oh so hard to clear your mind enough to find an answer, not a plea, on your tongue, Natasha gets impatient. You’ve been beneath her skin all day. But you’ve also been beneath her skin on and off all week. She’s been as patient as she can be with you, but you’ve pushed her too far, she doesn’t care to be nice anymore. 

“Who. Is. In. Charge?” She reiterates, and each pointed word is matched with her finger curling so perfectly against your g-spot, working against you in a way she knows is cruel because it’s everything you can’t stop your body from reacting to. She thinks you’ve forgotten just how well she knows your body and how to use it against you when it counts. 

“You, D-Daddy.” Your breath shakes, soft and wobbly as your glassy eyes begin to blink up at her, closing for a moment before they reopen even more dazed than the last time. Natasha hums, satisfied but not impressed, and slips another finger into your entrance. It fits beside the first snugly, almost too snugly for you to handle, but she makes you take it with a hand on your belly that hips your hips down on the seat and your belly filled with thick, heavy pressure that glitters like a firework in your vision. 

When her thumb falls over top of your clit, her fingers fucked so deeply into your core that the heel of her palm cups you tightly, and her thumb slips beneath skin to rub tight, fast circles along the your most sensitive part right now. Her fingers don’t slow down in your core, and it’s not enough to satisfy the wild sensations beneath your fingertips, but it’s enough to have your eyes rolling into the back of your head with intense pleasure you can’t delay, or withhold, or even begin to know how to control without her help. 

“You’re getting so tight around my fingers, baby girl. You’re not close yet, are you? But, I haven’t even really touched you yet. Haven’t even let you sit your pretty pussy on my strap and be all nice and full and warm for a while. But, if you’re close, and you can’t hold it, I guess we can be all done now. My love, doesn’t even need to be fucked anyway, right? She’s not my good girl, right now. She’s bratty, and whiny, and really getting on Daddy’s last nerve, and she just doesn’t seem to get that. It’s hard for her, I know. I know it is. That little brain has had to focus on so so much this week. But, Daddy’s been telling you to let go. To trust her. So do that for me, angel. Let go for, Daddy. Let’s be all done.” Natasha’s fingers and thumb don’t relent, and it quickly becomes impossible to do anything other than follow her directions even when you don’t want to. You don’t want to be all done. You don’t want to be a brat anymore. You don’t want it. It’s taken you this long to be affected by her pointed avoidance of calling you her good girl, but now that it’s scorned your skin, implanted itself in your memory, it’s all that consumes you and your belly fills with stones that sink quick and heavy to your feet. 

“Oh, are you going to cum? Gonna cum around my fingers like a little slut that just couldn’t wait until we even got to the car? Daddy’s fucked you in the car, sweet girl. You know how good it is. But you just couldn’t wait, huh? That needy pussy’s been trying to get you in trouble all morning and it finally broke you. That’s okay, baby. It’s not your job to worry about that cunt. Daddy knows what she needs. I know what you need.” Your brain turned off a long while ago and Natasha can tell, but she doesn’t comment on it, because you need this. You’ve been fighting this headspace all week and she doesn’t know why. Even in your isolated moments of protected peace in a lavish little hotel room that doesn’t even come close to the comfort of your Manhattan apartment, you hadn’t let her really be Daddy. You both need this. 

When your eyes squeeze shut, head thrown back against the headrest. Your lips are closed tightly, a habit Natasha’s spent years breaking but appreciates quite heavily in situations like this, when you’re already barely concealed due to sunlight slipping in from the clouds over top of the east coast, and anyone who really wants to know what’s happening can easily figure it out. Your walls flutter around her knuckles, pulling her in, trying to keep her there. She’s stronger, and her fingers leave your cunt before the end of the orgasm call even call over you, and your hips attempt to search for pleasure she’s taken away, but fall short when her hands keep you still, her eyes a blazing warning. 

When your eyes open, a single tear falls down your cheek, almost cinematic as it drips down your chin and splashes onto Natasha’s hands on your hips. “P-Please.” You whisper, voice shaky, desperate. Natasha’s missed this too much to ruin it, so she shakes her head, wipes her fingers on your shorts with disinterest, and pulls you into her chest because she knows that at the very least you need something grounding before you spiral even more than you already have when you’d thought she wasn’t paying attention. 

“Did you really think I was going to let you cum, moya lyubov?” Natasha frowns, dropping her forehead against yours as she leans down to kiss your lips softly, just enough to ease some of the worry in your belly. “Ten minutes, and then you’re going to go pee before we land. Got it?” 

“Mhmm. Got it, Daddy.” You whine, voice soft, sleepy. Natasha doesn’t have the heart to tell you there’s only half an hour left of the flight, or that your night is a long ways from over once you get home, but she lets you bask in the comfort right now, trying to worm your way back into her good graces to acquire a good girl at the very least. 

“Thank you, baby girl. Those listening ears on and working now?” She checks to assure, even though she knows you’ll listen to anything she tells you to do right now so long as she accepts that you’re going to whine about it first without intention to really say no at all. You nod against her chest, eyes closed, fingers with fistfuls of her hoodie between them. “That’s what I thought.” She hums, and you don’t even have the energy to roll your eyes or huff at her smugness, content to just exist against her chest for a while.

[tothisfeeling]

Would u be willing to write some sort of jj x female reader where jj is super protective of her and even kind of possessive (not in a toxic way). Jj wont hesitate to leave noticeable marks on reader and if needed, jj will get extra handsy when men try to flirt or be gross with reader

Sweet & Sour || Jennifer Jareau x Reader

CW: established marriage, gross men, mild food play and voyeurism, kissing, possessive JJ( HOT … who said that), sensual fic with no explicit sex :)

A/N: your wish is my command lovey. I’m a bit rusty, I apologize, hope you enjoy

JJ’s head perked up at the sound of your light laughter drifting from the porch through the open windows. Her eyebrows furrowed, unsure of who you could be talking about when no one was expected to be dropping by your home today. She placed her open book down on the couch, pivoting around on her knees to peer out the window. You were leaning against the railing parallel to the side of the house, a wet piece of laundry hanging from your arm. The goal of hanging them up to dry in the bright sun seemed to have been forgotten. JJ spotted a vague silhouette of another person lingering between her house and the neighbor’s, which had remained vacant for quite a few months now. She surveyed the moving trucks parked in the driveway and grew slightly more nosy at the low, gravelly sound of a man’s voice.

Hopping up quickly, she stepped out onto the porch barefoot, as if she was nonchalantly checking to see what you were up to. Hearing the soft pad of her footsteps, you turned around with a bright smile. “Brad, this is my wife, Jennifer. JJ, meet our new neighbor.”

She smiled softly, a dull greeting compared to your cheeriness. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Thanks. Your wife was just telling me about the area. This was my parents house. I decided to stay here for a bit. Not sure how long I’ll be here, but it was nice to meet you.” The younger man was leaning over the edge of the porch railing. You and your wife peered over the side as JJ gave a slight nod to the explanation of his recent appearance.

Looking up over Brad’s head, the blonde’ eyes level with the woods behind their house, zoning out to the tail end of your bubbly conversation with the new neighbor. Hearing her name come from your mouth recaptured your attention. “That works right, dinner tonight Jayje?” You tilted your head, under the impression she had still been tuned into the conversation.

“Sounds great,” she agreed softly, playing off the fact that she had not been listening to the dinner plans forming nonchalantly. The introduction concluded, and Brad sent a wave as he turned and headed back across the yard toward his place. You wrapped your arm around your wife’s waist while heading inside. A slight sigh escaped her lips as the front door shut behind the two of you, restoring your privacy.

“What’s wrong?’ you asked, catching on to her quick shift in mood the second you were alone.

“Nothing is wrong, love. She tugged on the hem of your dress, pulling you up against her. Content with your closeness, a soft smile spread across her face before she pressed a soft, prolonged kiss to your forehead. “I just like the peace and quiet of our dinners together, alone.

“Together alone?” You teased, raising your eyebrow as her hands slid around your waist. Planting on the small of your back.

She scoffed playfully. “You know what I mean. I don’t like strangers in our home. I prefer having you to myself, but if you would like to be the most welcoming neighbor, I’ll get through one night of sharing your presence, but he better not overstay his welcome.”

You kissed her quickly with excitement. “Thank you, Jennifer Jareau, for setting your possessive tendencies aside for your favorite wife.” You thanked her with playful dramatics, earning you a cheesy smile before you headed off to dig through the pantry.

“I’m your only wife!” She shouted back after she was already halfway up the staircase.

While you were pulling ingredients down onto the counter, assembling meals in your mind out of items you already had at home due to the short notice, JJ was sifting through clothes upstairs, yours and hers. You tapped your nails against the counter rhythmically, impatiently waiting for your pot of water to boil. JJ called out from upstairs, hanging a white sundress of yours over the banister. “How’s this one?” She asked, twirling it through the air. “I’ll iron and lay it out for you,” she offered, her outfit already draped over her arm.

“Perfect, thank you, love,” You blew her a kiss upwards before she disappeared back into the bedroom. By the time she darted back downstairs, you had drained a pot of pasta and were intently focused on slicing and squeezing lemons. JJ’s soft, sauntering footsteps went unnoticed until her hands looped around your waist and you jumped, caught off guard.

The scent of lemons overwhelmed the room. The heat of the stove and JJ’s hands on your hips left your face flushed as you attempted to focus on the tasks in front of you. At first JJ just appeared to want to help; she began whisking the sauce that was simmering, yet her one hand never lifted from your skin. By the time you had squeezed the last lemon over the pot, your hands were slick with juice. “Done with that?” Your wife plucked the lemon half from your hand, letting it roll aside. Before you could answer, her fingers closed around your wrist, dragging your hand up toward your mouth. Her lips parted, wrapping around two of your fingers and sucking them clean. Her face puckered slightly at the sour taste, but she stared directly into your eyes unblinking as she slowly dragged your fingers out of her mouth, freeing them with a soft pop.

She smirked, dragging you in a slightly dazed state over to the sink. Luckily, you were actually done and washed your hands. JJ tossed you a towel, leaving you to continue cooking once you gathered yourself. She turned off the stove on way out, knowing it would take you a moment to pull yourself out of her trance. “Looks done to me. I’m going to finish getting ready.

Quickly you chopped and mixed up a salad, tossing it in the fridge while you went to go get ready. As promised, JJ had laid the dress out on the bed for you, the fabric still faintly warm to the touch. After slipping it on, you found a white hair ribbon to match and swiped a wand of lip gloss across your lips. Looking in the mirror, the ring on your finger gleamed in the reflection as you spun it around your finger. Just as you finished, the doorbell rang.

JJ got the door, welcoming Brad inside as she stepped out of the way. “We set up a table outside since it’s so nice out today, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I brought this for you guys. I appreciate you hosting so last minute.” He handed over a bottle of wine to JJ, who brought it into the kitchen. You joined the two of them with a warm greeting as your wife led everyone outside to the back patio. JJ politely questioned him about his hometown, job, family, and typical small talk while pouring out three glasses for the table. He did the same, asking about you and JJ, your marriage. It seemed like nothing out of the ordinary. Plates and bowls of food were circulated around the table. JJ seemed calm and at ease, a good sign for her. The sun was setting and lit up her blonde hair with an angelic glow. The slow disappearing of dishes sent a reminder ringing in your head. “Oh shoot, I was going to cut up watermelon. JJ picked it up last weekend, and we haven’t eaten it yet. I’ll be right back.”

You stood up, heading inside, feeling comfortable enough to leave JJ and Brad outside now that they had gotten to talk a bit. You watched through the window above the kitchen sink as you cut up slices of watermelon, laying them out on a plate. JJ’s lips curled up slightly, eyes brightening in a way others would mistake as her being impressed, but you knew differently. Her expressions were slightly overexaggerated, mocking, in a way.

“Honey, come here!” JJ called out, and you lingered halfwayout the door. “Did you know a Director Johnson when you worked in counterintelligence?”

You frowned, knowing JJ wasn’t usually one to share much about either her job or your past one. “No, I don’t believe there was one, or at least not while I was there.”

She grinned, “See, that’s what I thought—”

“Wait, you both have worked for the FBI?” Brad cut JJ off, his face falling unintentionally before he straightened out his expression.

“Exactly, Brad, you’re getting it. That’s why you’ve lost me. I have been a supervisory special agent for the BAU and served as the acting unit chief, yet I’ve never heard of your boss… And furthermore, my talented wife worked in counterintelligence for a decade as well. And you said that was your department, didn’t you?

He stuttered, unable to come up with a response. His phone started ringing, and he stared down at it as if a fairy godmother was watching out for him. “Sorry, that’s my sister. I have to take this.” He walked off, pacing around your yard. JJ came inside to help you finish with the watermelon.

Finishing quickly, she wiped off her knife and held out her last cut piece of watermelon toward you. You carefully took a bite, leaning forward in an attempt to keep the running juices off of your white dress. Instead, it ran down your chin, and you moved to catch it with your fingers. JJ gently but firmly captured your wrists with one hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it. You gasped sharply when her lips met your neck, sliding across your skin. Slowly she peppered kisses across your skin along the curve of your breasts. Her finger hooked around the neckline of your dress, dragging it down.

You leaned your head against her, nearing her ear as you tucked a strand of hair behind it. “I know I didn’t drip that much,” you whispered teasingly.

She smiled at you, circling her tongue around your nipple before releasing it with a pop. “Just double-checking. You’re all good.’ She grabbed your hand and the platter, following you closely like a puppy dog. “There’s a reason this dress is my favorite,’ JJ murmured in your ear, sliding her hand down your ass before you stepped outside, struggling to hold it together.

Brad had returned to the table. JJ set down the fruit and dragged her chair right up against yours before sitting down; his eyes quickly darted to your chest and then back up. You peeked a glance at JJ’s mouth, which was slightly smeared with red lipstick, and froze knowing that meant it was probably also all over you.

“Is your sister good?” JJ’s hand landed on your thigh as she resumed the conversation.

“Yep.” He tucked his phone into his pocket.

“Good. You know, I’m curious. You were really interested in how my wife and I met. Do you have anyone special in your life?”

“No, not really. I’m more of a casual guy. I have more modern views, you know? Like it doesn’t even need to be exclusive. Actually, speaking of which, I was really interested to hear about you guys dynamic. You guys seem happy, maybe open to trying new things—”

JJ cut him off with a hand, her other pinching your thigh. “This went exactly where I thought it was going,” she mumbled under her breath through gritted teeth. “Y/N, go inside.”

You listened. As soon as the door shut, JJ stood up, walking around the table, but you couldn’t hear anything. JJ was never much of a yeller. When she was angry, her voice got low and gravelly, which was honestly more frightening. By the time she came in, Brad was gone; you didn’t even see his door shut behind him

You wrapped an arm around her, still feeling her heart beat against her chest. “If you had an inkling about what he was after, why’d you let him stay?” You murmured, pulling her closer.

“Because I promised I’d play nice, so I needed to be positive. Don’t worry though, my threats were no gentler than usual.

“You’re hot when you’re protective.“ You laughed, gently biting her lip as she kissed you. ”You could’ve told me I had marks and lipstick all over me though.”

“I thought it would send a message, but clearly men are never very good at taking a hint. I’d be happy to wash it off for you, though.” She raised an eyebrow, tugging you toward the shower.

[tothisfeeling]

Some butch JJ doodles for @donnydamakkk 🫡

[tothisfeeling]

SINFULLY

summary — it’s been a tantalizing exchange of passion and tension for seven days. they’ve pushed you to the edge, forced you to the cliffs peak, but in a moment of weakness, you become the problem in need of solving, and it only spirals from there

warning(s) — porn with plot, established relationships, threesome, dom/sub, bdsm elements, age gap relationships, professor maximoff, personal trainer natasha, beefy!natasha, innocent!reader, brat taming, choking, pussy inspection, punishment, daddy kink, professor kink, faux pity, manhandling, pussy spanking (w/ rings), spanking, edging, verbal humiliation, light anal play, plugs, ruined orgasm, orgasm denial, masturbation, voyeurism and exhibitionism, threats of bondage, vibrators, dildo, mean dom wanda, crying, begging, dirty talk, name calling, praise kink, subdrop, anxiety, aftercare, men/minors dni

authors note — i definitely missed some tags but i think you get the hint that this is absolute filth regardless of if i mention anything else. enjoy ;)

“Sorry.” You apologized when your phone pinged with a message from your girlfriend. The one with fiery red hair that encapsulates the effects of her unrelenting passion; not the one with blonde hair that falls around her shoulders in a choppy cut she did herself two weeks ago. Your eyes glance down at the screen, not needing to guess what Wanda had found to warrant texting you so randomly in the middle of the afternoon.

You’d been waging an internal bid since that morning, when you’d enveloped her waist in a tight possessive claim and rested your head on her shoulder beneath her craned head so sweetly she didn’t notice your hand dipping into her pocket and discarding the yellow panties she’s picked out for you that morning, wondering if she’d notice then, or in the car, or in the middle of a lecture with students around to watch her flush and darken with lust. Natasha hadn’t noticed then either, and she’d been standing at the front door, already halfway outside with a thermos of coffee and a yoga mat under her bulging bicep as she waited. She dropped Wanda off at campus on Fridays. You should know. The first time you’d established that the cute girl you were seeing at the gym was your college professor's girlfriend, was on the street corner at 7th and Park on your way to a Spanish lecture. Natasha had all the windows down, but the roof still protected her sports car from seasonal rain, and her hair had been red at the time, peeking out through the windows as the wind blew. She was wild, reckless. Wanda was never that. Wanda had sat in the passenger side of the car with her hair pulled back in a bun. You’d known it was her because her side profile is haunting, encapsulating, delicious. You see her on campus, from down the hall, around the corner, across the parking lots. It’s not a big school, not by any metrics, but its big enough to never have her classes. It’s big enough for you to have swallowed the guilt of fucking a professor to allow you to boldness to leave your panties in her pocket before a lecture.

“Are you okay?” Kate frowns, glancing at you from across the table. You're in the library, a free period granted by your American History professor who actually has a brain on his shoulders and recognizes that sometimes students just need structured time to get their assignments done, or at least started. Your paper is filled with notes scribbled in purple ink, and the document you have opened on your laptop is highlighted with that dusty pink color that’s third from the bottom on the color gradient in Google Docs. Even with the lack of panties between your legs, the wetness you can’t deny dripping onto your denim shorts that feel like a nightmare against your sensitive clit when you twinge just slightly in your seat, you’ve been productive enough to make Wanda proud if she asks how you day at school went. ”You’ve been kind of quiet today.” Kate frowns, her eyes squinting like she’s trying to find an answer beneath the surface of your features. It’s not something that she can directly name. You’ve laughed at all of her jokes, smiled and teased her all like normal, but there's something that hangs over you that she knows isn’t right. “Oh god, is Wanda sexting you?”

Your face flushes. You’re suddenly aware that you’re not empty, not entirely at least. Your core clenches, slick walls pleading for friction, but your ass is full. It clamps down hard on the flared base of a silicone plug Natasha worked into your ass before she’d peeled herself out of bed to take a shower. It’s not one of the bigger ones, not one of the red princess plugs that came in a set of five that Wanda seldomly pulls out for intense scenes you’ve already discussed at length. It’s small, insignificant enough to be worn daily without much interference. It’s more a reminder of control than an interference, but right now it sparks every nerve in your belly and reminds you that you’ve been wanting for days. Four days.

Four days ago, on Monday, Natasha had pinned you up against the wall and touched you for the last time. She’d dipped her fingers beneath your denim shorts because it had been warm enough to bare your legs for her to ogle, and she’d worked you up on her fingers until arousal was dripping down her knuckles. She’d pulled away before you could cum. That was the third time she’d done that. The edging started Saturday night. For no reason. Wanda had come home from a pilates class at Natasha’s gym, which ironically was never run by Natasha but instead of best employee Pepper, who is actually named Virginia, and had taken you on the couch without even consulting Natasha who’d watched from the door frame with yearning eyes. She said nothing when she fucked your cunt with her tongue, her nose inhaling your scent as it bounced against your clit clumsily, and then she’d stopped and walked away like nothing happened, going into the kitchen to finish up dinner that Natash had thoughtfully already started. It hasn't ended since. It happens like this sometimes. It’s days of edging and denial until eventually Wanda explodes, but it’s never been like this before. It’s never reached the seventh day and still nobody’s let you cum. It’s thrilling. You think. Kate’s question catches you off guard. You’re emboldened by their experience, you allow them to corrupt you however they want, but in the absence of their dominating presence, you're just the innocent girl they plucked up off the streets.

“No!” You snatch your phone off the table like if it sits there any longer, Kate might develop a sixth sense for deception and absorb all the contents of your text chain with Wanda. You’d die if that happened. You have a hard enough time telling them what you want in explicit enough details to satisfy their vulgar desires, you wouldn’t be able to look at the Kate the same if she knew what the text said.

You decided to be a whore today, huh?

It’s simple but chilling. Eight words have unraveled you entirely, but you still have twenty minutes before you can sneak away to your car and drive back to Natasha’s house. It’s not their house, despite having been together for six years. Natasha had told the story as such — one day Wanda came over to spend the night and she never went home, the end. Legend has it, the redhead has a highrise apartment somewhere upstate, but she’s never ventured there with you in tow, and you’ve never seen a picture to prove it either. It’s basically your house now too though. Like Wanda, one day you’d gone over to spend the night, and then you’d never returned back to your dorm where Kate basks in the glory of single living. You think she’s pushed your beds together at this point and made a Queen for herself out of the two Twin XL’s, but you haven’t been back to check on the state of your belongings to know.

“She’s just telling me that Natasha wants meatballs for dinner, so she’ll send me money to get something on the way home.” You shrug, and it feels bad to lie, it makes your belly burn with guilt you don’t typically feel so intensely, but with your period four days off from ruining your entire month, you don’t dwell on the intensity of tears thrusting to prick your eyes and you deceive Kate for no reason. There’s no reason to lie, but you find yourself doing it anyway. There was no reason to leave your panties in Wanda’s pocket and risk her job, but you did it anyway. You’re impulsive without them guidinging you. It’s been months since you’ve been distanced enough to remember that.

“I wish Yelena would sugar mommy me.” Kate sulks, and you make a face as if to say they’re not even together, but Kate pointedly avoids glancing into your eyes to find the unspoken taunt. “Who sugar mommy’s you more? Natasha or Wanda?” She questions, and amusement fills your cheeks with hot air as you close your laptop and throw your highlighters and pens back into your pencil case, aiming to start wrapping this conversation up so that you can get home once your phone pings with the end of the allotted essay period.

“Well, Natasha owns her own business and Wanda’s a teacher so…” You break down the logistics of their finances, because it feels imperative that you remind Kate that regardless of anything else, Natasha still trumps both you and Wanda with inconce rates. Kate should know that though, she’s been obsessed with Natasha’s younger sister since your freshman year, and Yelena’s only finally giving her enough attention for lunch dates to be delusionally morphed into plans of marriage. You’re going to hate the day she learns Yelena’s asexual, and she has a better chance of fucking a fire hydrant than the blonde.

“She’s a professor!” Kate interjects, and your eyes roll. “They get paid more, and it’s hotter.” She’s had the hots for Wanda since she took Slavic Languages last semester on a whim after failing Spanish for the second time. You’ve only ever heard impeccable things about Wanda’s reserve when she’s giving a lecture, so even though your blood boils every time you remember other girls think about Wanda the way only you get to have her, you never can say you blame her for fantasizing about the lengths the redhead goes to romantically.

“Neither one of them really sugar mommy me.” You shrug, finding your voice again after Kate. You hope she doesn’t notice how your hips shift against the leather cushion beneath your awkwardly distributed weight, but you don’t think you’re entirely subtle as you attempt to alleviate pressure on the plug. Thankfully, you’re entirely certain Kate doesn’t even know the first signs to look for. She talks a big game, but you’re certain her last kiss was some douche bag at NYU before she was expelled. “I mean, I guess Wanda pays for dinner when we go out, but other than that it's pretty even.” Your words are a breathless huff when you move and the cushion expands without your pressing weight, and presses against the plug when you least expect it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kate frowns, once again drawn to how something just isn’t completely right with you. It comes in waves, and it makes her uncomfortable for a reason she doesn’t know. You don’t even notice the way she shifts like she wants to retreat to basic elementary school survival skills and go find a trusted adult to confide in. You’d find it funny that sexual tension makes her uncomfortable, especially because all she does is yearn after Yelena Belova and some girl in her chemistry class named Maia, but it doesn’t even crash upon the surface of your mental shorelines. You’re so far from what's actually happening she could call you out on your horny bullshit right now and you wouldn’t know she saw through you.

You’re not great at being deceptive, in fact you’re pointedly bad at selling a lie even when you believe it fully, but something keeps you on your toes now, something like Natasha’s quick wit and self-preservation skills finally rubbing off on you. You find something in your head that’s not entirely a lie, and it falls off your lips before you can consider the implications of this potentially backfiring on you later on. It’s not a big deal, she’s not going to care that you’re horny because you’re in a lovely, healthy relationship where you try new things, but you’re making it a big deal and you don’t know why. ”Yeah, I just remembered I left the Zyrtec in Wanda’s trunk.”

“Oh, you’re still dealing with those allergies?” Kate frowns, and you deflate in immediate relief that you’ve managed to salvage the conversation and her worries all in one go. You let her guide the conversation from there, because you’re not sure you can focus on much of anything outside from how your clit graces against the inseam of your shorts when you cross one thigh over the other and shift your weight until your thighs become one. It’s humiliating. You’re humiliating yourself without their influence. Your cheeks burn. How have you fallen so far? How did you get to this point? If Natasha were beside you, you know she’d be grinning like a devil watching you squirm. If Wanda were here, you know she’d scold you for being so naughty in public, for being so needy that you can’t even sit still like a good girl while your friend tries to talk to you. They’ve ruined you.

Kate walks you to your car despite trying to part ways at the door. She’s kind as she tells you about all the events coming up on campus that you’re certainly going to avoid going to at all costs, but she tells you any way so that you feel included. It wouldn’t have bothered you any other day, but you’re certain that the crotch of your shorts is a shade of blue darker than the rest of the denim material, and you can’t face the realization of her knowing you’re so honry yoru thighs are slick with arousal and it’s your fault. You can’t help but think that you should’ve never left those panties in her bag, because now your thighs glimmer beneath the sunshine of June, and your arsenal that slips down your thighs in tantalizing beads are like high beams for anyone to lock in on at their own will. You’d never know if someone stole a glance from across the parking lot, if they took that image home with them and got off on it in secret, or if they didn’t even wait, just slipped into their office and worked it out then and there. You hate that Wanda’s convinced you that’s a hot possibility. You hate that it only makes the coil in your belly grow more and more until you’re clenching your fingers into fists and forcing back tears as Kate drags out her goodbye at the driver's side door of your little car with hardly any life left in it.

The commute back to Natasha’s has never felt so bumpy, and you’re ashamed that by the time you pull into the driveway, you’ve broken out into a hot flash that turns your cheeks cherry red and threatens to push you over the edge into a touchless orgasm that shatters you completely. The plug in your ass has nearly been pushed out twice, but the force of your ass meeting the seat as you bump against the unevenly paved highway forces it back into place. It’s never been a distraction like this, but your senses have also never been on overdrive like this away from your bed or the exotic spots chosen by your girlfriends with caution. It feels like there are fireworks before your fingernails, burrowed deep into your cuticles and unwilling to move. There’s an agonizing pressure in your belly that is enough to riddle you with tears and hiccuping sobs. You’re desperate, on the verge of an orgasm from roadside construction instead of your girlfriends, but just like they’d been doing to your body all week, the drive home ends before you reach your peak, and for the millionth time, you're edged and left stranded in the middle of blinding electricity and somebody forgot to flip the breaker.

Wanda isn’t home yet. She should be, but she’s not. A part of you is worried that she got fired, That she pulled the panties out at the wrong place, or at the wrong time, but she’d never texted you again, and you have the slightest hope that if she were facing unemployment she’d at least give you a heads up. When you’d slipped the panties into her pocket, you’d wanted someone to see them, but that thought swallows you up and echoes in the back of your head now like a demon willing you down a tainted path. It’s too late now. You’re already down it.

Natasha is home though, and the light gleams through the window and tells you she’s waiting in the living room. Maybe she’s not waiting though. She might just be watching TV, she might not even know that its one o’clock and you’re never home any later than one-thirty. You push through the front door like it weighs a million pounds, and there’s not one second to consider if Natasha knows what happened today or not. The minute you glance at her all comfortable on the couch, her biceps bulging as she crosses her arms over her belly and hides the handfuls of skin on her hips from you, you know that she knows, and she knows that you know that she knows. It makes your head swim. You want her with a burning passion.

“Oh, you’re home?” She asks, already rising from the couch though her tone feigned disinterest. You swallow thickly, shrinking beneath her stare. It feels so hot, so heavy. She’s unmaking you entirely, and yet she doesn’t seem to give a fuck whether you’re coming or going or somewhere in the middle. Her eyes sweep over your frame, and you know she’s reading every miniscule emotion portrayed across your demeanor, so you try your best to appear unassume, innocent, even if your belly churns knowing evidence of your disobedience stains your car seats now and your inner thighs. Your denim shorts feel heavy around your waist, the center weighed down by arousal that continues to collect. It’s uncountable, sticky. There’s no hiding the difference in hue anymore, sodden denim exposing your desires.

“I’m home.” You whisper, your throat bobbing as you swallow dryly. It doesn’t help anything. Your head is no clearer and you find your words no easier, but you force yourself to swallow again and hope that this time it helps. Natasha quirks an eyebrow, and the uninterested reserve drops entirely as her green-blue stare — you can never decide which color she wears more authentically — darkens into mystical lust that almost resembles charred ashes.

“Were you proud of yourself?” Natasha backs you up against the door. She’s not a tall woman, she’s only a handful of inches taller than you depending on what kind of shoe you’re wearing, but you feel impossibly small beneath her right now as your back meets the hard wood of the door and one of her buff arms comes up to frame the side of your face. It slams against the wood at first, hard, aggressive, aimed to startle you, and then it slides so slowly you think she may be tracking a fly, before it settles on your cheek with a burning weight that has you itching for more. It doesn’t last there for long. Natasha’s never been a woman skilled with stillness. She’s always moving, always finding ways to keep herself busy, so it doesn’t surprise you that she can’t even keep her palm on your cheek for long enough to capture your attention the way she wants. Instead, she trails it down to your throat, and you know then that you’re entirely screwed. She squeezes, not tight, but firm, and your eyes become wide as your reel beneath the easy dominance. “Were you proud of yourself when you snuck those pretty panties into Wanda’s jacket? I bet you wanted everyone to see them, huh? You probably couldn’t help but think about them falling out onto the floor during her lecture, or maybe you thought she’d find them during her meeting. Yeah? While she was sitting right next to Eleanor Bishop talking about you, and your major, and the future of your program.” Your belly is suddenly filled with a weight you know is guilt, and Natasha can see that. She’d aimed to let the reality of your decisions wash over you, and only when she’s satisfied that you’ve sat with the realization long enough does she lean in to kiss you and simultaneously work the button of your shorts open with the hand that's not around your neck.

“I didn’t think-“ When she pulls away from the bruising kiss that makes your head spin and the coil in your belly threaten to wind up again, you desperately try to find confirmation on your tongue that will assure her you’d never wanted anything to happen to Wanda outside of a little frustration. Even then, you weren’t sure what your aim had been this morning. Maybe it was to get her back. To make sure she knows how much this is killing you. Maybe you’d just wanted the attention. You don't know.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it, moya lyubov? You don’t think. You just let this cunt tell you what to do, even if it gets you in trouble. I bet she’s wet, huh? Oh yeah.” Natasha groans when she cups your core through the denim shorts, not even having to attempt to prod at your entrance through the thick layers, she can feel the moisture and heat radiating onto her calloused skin just from the possessive grip she’s initiated. “You’re always wet, always so easy to fuck. It doesn’t take much does it? I bet that plugs been driving you crazy all day, and you thought you were gonna be a brat and outsmart Wanda, but I bet not having any panties on only made it worse, huh, princess? I bet you’ve been wet since you left. Did you break my rule, baby? Did you touch this cunt without permission?”

A gasp falls off of your lips when Natasha cups your core harder, grinding the heel of her palm into your clit just hard enough to move the inseam of your shorts with it, forcing pleasure on you thats too rough and too intense all at once. Tears prick your eyes, but there’s still a question to be answered, and you’re not gone enough to have forgotten that if nothing else, she expects you to find an answer for her. “N-No!” You wail, frustration bubbling up inside of you when the pressure ebbs into nothing and your clit is left unsatisfied again. “I didn’t!”

Natasha’s tuts, clicking her tongue against her front teeth as she cranes her head at you sympathetically. The hand around your throat eventually trails away, cupping your face and then wiping the tears off your cheeks. “See, I don’t believe you, detka. I’m gonna have to check for myself. Open your legs wider.” She removes her hand from between your legs all together, tapping your hip in warning as she gives you space to comply with her request. When you just stand there, floundering for something to grasp onto and pull you through the dark waters with, Natasha huffs. “Open your legs wider. Now.”

You do as she asks, because it’s only natural that you do. You had half a mind this morning to do that exact opposite of what they asked, and yesterday, you’d pointedly avoiding doing what Wanda asked until there was no other choice but to comply or stand beneath her disappointed glare from across the kitchen, but that wingless push of confidence has evaded you now. It’s nowhere to be found even when you try to find the courage to stand up to her in your fingertips.

Your zipper doesn’t stand a chance against the force of her fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your panties until he bypasses your clit and france’s her fingers along your labia. There’s a distinguished squelching sound that meets the air when she dips just one knuckle into your entrance, filling you up for the very first time since Monday afternoon, and you gasp with so much relief that you don’t even recognize the sinister smirk on her lips as she reads your expression like a book she’s memorized dutifully.

“You’re so wet.” She comments, “Are you sure you didn’t touch yourself?” She knows you didn’t. The way you contract against her fingers as she eases another one into your walls and spreads you out like she’s preparing for a game of rock paper scissors tells her that you’ve not had an ounce of real pleasure since the last time she’d allowed it. She thinks it was two days ago. You’re unaware that she’s seemingly lost in a haze of days and mundane adult routine.

“I didn’t! I didn’t! Daddy, please!” You gasp, your back arching off the door when her fingers scrape along your walls. She makes an interested sound high in her throat, like she’s surprised to find that your sensitive there, and does it again, this time with full intention to overwhelm you with pleasure.

”Oh, are you sensitive right there, detka? Is that your spot?” She coos, and it feels so wrong so be treated like this by her. Natasha isn’t soft, but she’s not cruel, and right now she’s wearing Wanda’s condescension with her blonde hair that tickles your cheek when she drops her forehead against yours. “I didn’t know.” She pouts, and you wonder why for a second, but then it makes perfect sense when she pulls her fingers away and you’re left clenching around nothingness. She’s apologizing for giving you pleasure with nothing else. She’s pretending to care that she’s just wound you up for the hundredth time this week and left you high and dry in the middle of a puddle with wild electricity sparking in the close distance.

A broken sob leaves your lips and your hips chase her fingers but its useless. Natasha doesn;t care that you're desperate, she doesn’t care that nobody’s fucked you good in days, it’s not about that right now. You lost the right to her sympathy when you decided to be a brat. Again. She remembers the last time you were in this position. She remembers leaves changing colors and apple cider always being in the fridge because you love it more than apple juice in the middle of October, and she remembers how your ass had gleamed red for days after Wanda bent you over the island because you just wouldn’t watch your mouth and mind your damn manners. It’s been a while since either one of them had dished out a punishment that actually forces you to think about your actions. It’s been a while since either of them have really fallen hard on their swords as dominic acts and truly sacrificed you to the wolves of letting go.

Natasha will never apologize for loving you to deeply to keep her roles separate. She will never apologize for loving you so much, she gives into your pouting face and crying eyes when you just need her more than anything else in the world. Wanda won’t either, and she’s notorious the hardest nut amongst you to crack. None of you care that your dynamics have been muddled with pathetically sweet domesticity and romance for months at this point, but its beginning to catch up with all of you now. You have all of these limits beneath your belts, all of these wild impulses that you only ever indulge in with each other, these kinks and desires are derived from real trauma, and real connection, and real willingness to be the most unapologetic version of yourself no matter how socially unacceptable, and she’s allowed all of you to forget that the beauty of building a dynamic outside of romance is the freedom to hold grudges and correct behavior. She won’t give in so easily anymore, because before you, she never would’ve allowed anything less than perfect obedience and that had been the one thing that lured you back to her workout classes.

“Please, Daddy!” You beg, and Natasha can’t help but smile at how desperate you sound for her already. She’s barely touched you, and she knows that's your problem,that the root of your begging is the pointed lack of attention her and Wanda have been giving you since Wednesday night in her head, but there's nothing you can do about it right now when she has the cards and its her body that pins you to the door and keeps you immobile beneath her.

“Turn around.” She muses without interest for your tears, she’s already wiped them away once, it wouldn’t be the first time she told you to strop cry before she deems it acceptable. Your cheeks always flame when she does that, like its your fault that she’s unmade you to the point of tears.

“No.” You choke on a desperate cry, reaching out to attempt to tangle your fingers into her hair, but she intercepts before you can succeed, and her grip on your wrists is strong as she pins your hands above your head and glares deep within your eyes like she can see every part of your soul and the privilege doesn’t astonish her. It does astonish her. She can’t believe that you;ve given all of yourself to her like this, but who would she be if she allowed you to read the gratitude rolling off of her so easily? “No, I want to touch you!” You cry out, trying to fight her, trying to convince her to let you win. Natasha knows you well. She knows when you’re being bratty, and she knows when you’re just so overwhelmed with pleasure and emotion that you just don’t even process what they’re saying to you. Sometimes she thinks you make up conversations in your head, but she knows that you’re just drunk on sensations they’re withholding and your body is desperately trying to make up for the lack of stimulation however it can. You’re somewhere in the middle right now. It’s not bratty defiance that keeps you and her in a standstill, wasting precious minutes before Wanda gets home, but its not entirely blind submission either. Your trying to keep yourself above the tide, key word is trying, because you’re failing faster than you even register, and Natasha knows if she plays her cards right you’ll be putty before Wanda even gets in the door. You’ll have no idea whats in stores or you then, and she knows you need that. You need to be caught off guard. You need to be grounded, and humbled, and reminded of your place beneath them. “I want to touch you, Daddy!”

“Daddy gets to decide when you’ve earned the privilege to touch me, and you haven’t yet, little girl, so turn around and stop whining before I give you a reason to stick that lip out at me.” The threat hangs in the air before you and it paints your face white with shock as your eyes meet hers with crystals of tears brimming in your waterline. You don’t have to think about complying on your own regard, because Natasha tugs you how she wants you against the door and doesn’t think twice before pushing your shorts down your legs once your cheek is flush with the wood she’d once thought about painting green after moving in.

You gasp when her hands brace against the globes of your ass, not making any pointed moves, but you know what she’s aiming for when she pulls your cheeks apart and allows cold air to assault your dripping, glimmering core. A whine escapes your lips when she drags a finger down the crack of your ass to your entrance, collecting wetness of the pads of her fingers that she then spreads around your puckered hole that holds tight to the princess plug keeping you open. She circles the jeweled base of the plug with disinterest almost, never grabbing at it, never pushing at it, she just circles it to remind you that it's there, that she’s the one who placed it there and gave you firm orders to keep it where it was until she took it out. At least you’d listened to her. She’d know if you didn’t. You can’t get the plugs in yourself, and it enrages you to no end when she’s away on a business trip and Wanda has no desire to pull them out of the closet where you keep all of the toys you cycle through routinely and healthily. This is Natasha’s fortier, it's one of the only things that she can give you that you haven’t learned how to give yourself. She hopes you never get comfortable enough with the plugs to put them in yourself. She hopes you always gasp and squirm like it's the first time anything has ever breached your puckered hole when she bends you over to do it herself from time to time. It’s intoxicating. you’re intoxicating.

The jewel is a baby pink color, shaped like a heart, but what matters most is the shade that you’d never thought specifically about until Natasha leaned in close to kiss you with lips glittering in arousal to tell that it matches the pink of your cunt after Wanda fucks you raw with the strap and she gets to lick you clean. You’ve never been able to keep your composure around baby pink since then. You still can’t now just imagine the sight she’s seeing as she spreads you open for her and fiddles with you however she pleases.

“How did it feel? Wearing this pretty plug to class today?” Natasha asks, leaning in to let her lips trail along the clammy skin of your neck that only aquires a thicker sheen the longer you stand without any airflow on parts of your body that matter. It’s hotter than hell in the house, or at least it feels that way to you, but the air that continuously brushes against your core is cold and unwelcoming.

”We had a study period in the- in the library.” You gasp when Natasha grabs the base of the plug and turns it clockwise just slightly, enough to let your ass feel the stretch of the plug as sit spins within you. The pleasure is intense, but only because anything would be enough to push you over the edge right now. “I— Daddy, please.” You beg when she presses the plug deeper into you once, and then twice, and then it seems like shes setting a tempo as she taps her fingers against the jewel.

“Keep telling me about your day.” Natasha directs, unbothered by your frustration and arousal, unaffected by the fact that she knows it's hard for you to think straight with her hands holding you apart like you’re some object to ogle, not even considering your prolonged frustration and desire. “Be a good girl for me.”

“I couldn’t sit still.” You whisper and your cheeks flame with embarrassment that you know she enjoys every second of. “Gave Wands m-my panties and was so sticky, Daddy! Please, it hurts. It was dripping all down my legs, and I just hope Kate didn’t see. Please Daddy, I need you.”

“Oh, so now you gave Wanda your panties. Spinning the narrative, are you?” Natasha quirks and eyebrow, and she pulls your gaze back to look at her with a tight grip on your hair. You whine, wince, your entire body tenses and becomes a light with electric sensitivity that has you gasping and moaning and writhing against the door with no reprieve. She slams you back against the door, her tongue clicking against her teeth as she reminds you to stay still, to be good for her, you’re not being good right now.

“I don’t know!” You cry out, dropping your face against the front door again when she lets go of your hair and instead grabs the base of the plug and plucks it free from the confines of your ass without any chance to adapt to the stretch or subsequent emptiness.

”You don’t know anything, because all you are is a slut for Daddy to play with.” She sighs against the shell of your ear like this isn’t a new development for her, and your chest burns with shame as you moan and thrash.

“No, please! I want it back, please Daddy. Please, I want it back. I want to feel good. Please, please. I want to feel good, I want you to make me feel good.” You're a mess of tears and pleas when it finally dawns on you that your ass spasms and clenches around nothing — that the only consistent pleasure you’ve found all day, for the first time in a week, has now been ripped away without so much as a soft, fake apology.

“Shh, come away from the door.” She guides you away softly, affectionately — the gentlest she’s addressed you since you first stepped inside the house. You think it’s because she’s giving in, letting you win, getting ready to led you to the couch or the bed nad make up for seven days without relief, but instead she forces you to stand still beside the front window where Wanda’s somehow appeared despite Natasha’s car still being in the driveway beside yours. She didn’t pull you away from the door to cut you a break, or even pretend to feel pity for your tears and quivering lip, but only so that Wanda could come inside and destroy you in her own way. “Hi, my love.” Natasha smiles brightly when Wanda steps inside the house, her hair glowing with the radiance of summer sunrays brightening her naturally vibrant waves. She drops her briefcase by the door, and you notice for the first time that she brought the meeting bag with her, not the bag she brings that had daisies on it and is filled with extra handouts she expects her students to have lost between their last meeting. You hadn’t noticed that this morning. You’d been too consumed with need that was left untouched.

“Hi.” Wanda smiles, drawing Natasha in for a warm kiss that makes you wonder if she’s still frustrated and mad about your disobedience and boldness. It’s evident that she’s still mad when she doesn’t glance in your direction, instead keeping her eyes on Natasha as both of them pretend like you’re not within ear shot. Wanda fishes the panties out of her pocket, and your cheeks burn as she holds them up to the light for Natasha to see clearly as well. “Ten minutes in these and they’re ruined.” She hums, and you whine like you’re incapable of formulating any kind of response or rebuttal. It’s futile, they're not talking to you, or even paying you any ounce of attention, but you still feel the need to interject because you just haven’ t learned that they’re not going to cave yet. That’s their fault, but you’ll learn.

“She was humping my fingers like a bitch before. I’d say she only made it worse for herself. The little exhibitionist was hoping that people would see her. Was hoping someone would notice that she’s dripping down her thighs like a slut. Couldn’t even behave herself and sit still in the library with Kate, apparently she was all over the damn seat trying to rub one out.” The words are vulgar and they cut against your sharply, enough to have you shaking on your feet by the television, hardly even aware of the face that your ass and your hips are in perfect sight for anyone outside to see.

“Oh yeah?” Wanda quirks an eyebrow, and it takes you a minute to realize she’s addressing you. There isn't an ounce of warmth in her tone as she crosses her arms and unmakes you with a cold sweep of her crystal eyes across your half naked frame, but she’s not looking at you like she hates you either. It’s sheer dominance and lust that overcomes her now, and it's a combination you’ve never seen so deadly and aimed solely at you. Natasha's been on her shit like like this before, but never you, never their good girl, their angel who has only ever seen herself over their knee for punishment four times in an entire years long relationship. Someone should be picking up on the signs, but nobody is. Not you, not Natasha, not Wanda. “Come here.” Wanda arches a finger when she realizes that you’re directly in front of the window and don’t even seem to register it. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve toyed with the idea of giving the neighbors a show, but even with the cold reserve she’s giving you, untempted by her love to go easy on you, it unsettles her to take your vulnerability for granted in any way, especially like this. If you seemed to realize you were giving anybody a show, if it seemed like showing off was an underlying current in the scene, maybe she would’ve left you there for a while after realizing, but she can’t stomach to do that now. She’s mean, she’s cruel, but she’s not a monster and there’s still boundaries to her wild fantasies that unmake you from the very inside out.

You only come close enough for her hands to reach you if they try, but she doesn’t invite you any closer when you stop to look at her uncertainty, so you take her silence as rejection and continue to stand on your own — cold, but so uncomfortably hot. “Is Daddy telling the truth? Were you acting like a slut in the library? Hoping anyone could see how wet you were?” She taunts, and the words creep up your veins until they reach the middle of your belly where pleasure and frustration and emotions you’re too hazy to name take over entirely.

“No!” You plead with her to believe you, because it had never been your intention to be anything but good for them in the library, but you just couldn't help yourself when your clit caught on the inseam of your jeans or you shifted just right on the chair, and you’d hoped Natasha would see the honor and integrity in your coming clean, but instead she’d weaponized it into this. You were in enough trouble without her meddling, and it turns your lips downwards, but you never have any leeway to say that it’s more than just the teasing that’s weighing you down, so Wanda never stops to consider your pout or sparkling eyes.

“So now Daddy’s a liar?” She digs deeper; sinks her claws into you unrelentlessly without even touching you at all. She doesn’t need to touch you to own you. You’re beneath the wings of her control so beautifully right now she almost hates to be so cruel. Almost. It’s a fleeting moment of hesitation that allows you to think you’ve found reprieve from punishment for a moment, but then she remembers that this is what she really loves when you peel her layers back like an onion, and just like an onion she makes you cry but you keep coming back for more because it adds something, it spices things up, it makes dishes complete and she completes you. And for a moment you think that maybe she’ll bend, that maybe she’ll wind you up with this teasing and condescension and then she’ll let you down soft, let it all be some elaborate mind fuck that renders you a blob beneath their touch, but then she sets her gaze on the staircase beneath your body, and her jaw is locked so tensely you think she might chip a molar. “You’re digging yourself a deeper hole the more you open that mouth, so why don’t you keep it closed and go wait for me upstairs. I want you naked and on the bed waiting by the time we get up there.”

“But I want—“ You’re ready to tell her exactly what you want. It takes a lot to get you to this point of open communication. You’re their shy girl, their innocent angel that still blushes when it comes to asking for sexual acts from your girlfriends, but they have you wanting enough to throw caution to the wind and scream to the entire town that you’re a whore; their whore. You haven’t been broken down entirely, but you’re so close to the edge of fuzzy bliss that you have no morals to stand firm on. You’re malleable in their hands, and they know how to make you into exactly what they want.

“I didn’t ask what you wanted. I gave you a direction, and I expect you to follow it. Am I clear?” Wanda takes a step toward you. Just one. She’s taller than Natasha. You know this, and you love this, but sometimes you forget that she’s only a couple inches away from reaching six foot, and she towers over you with a completion and complex you can’t even begin to mimic to even unsuspecting strangers. She’s alluring. That’s the simplest way to put it, and she unmakes you even further as she sizes you up and makes you feel small like you’re nothing to her. It’s been a while since you’ve fallen so heavily into these roles. It’s been a while. It’s an echo in your head, a warning to tread carefully, but you don’t see it as anything more than a reason to fight harder, claim victory and finally find release in your center.

Your head bobs — just once. It feels so simple to think about motions as numbers right now. One pass of Wanda’s eyes over your exposed thighs and hips. Two taps of Natasha’s heel on the hardwood as she waits for you to comply with the direction you’ve been given. Four seconds before you realize that Wanda’s waiting for words, and that you still haven’t moved even with your nonverbal acceptance. “Yes.” You whisper when you find the words on your tongue, and you think that it’s going to satisfy Wanda, that maybe she might praise you for finally finding the right choice to make, but instead she clicks her tongue against her teeth, and she cranes her head to the side, and her eyes squint as you like you’ve just done the worst thing you could do; not try at all.

“I know it’s been a while since we’ve played like this, but I didn’t think my angel was dumb enough to forget such a simple rule. Are you dumb, princess? Or are you just too needy to think straight?” Wanda sneers, and your face flushes with heat that makes your belly twist with something sickeningly sweet. It’s all encapsulating. You can feel it in your toes, and your gallbladder, and your left lung all the way into the very back section of your brain that probably does something really important and specific. You don’t know. It doesn't matter. The sky could be green and chickens could be flying, and still all that would matter to you would be Wanda and Natasha.

“Not dumb.” Your voice is breathy, soft enough to be delicate and breakable. Wanda knows you, she knows what you can take, and so she lets her eyes sweep across your body until they meet your eyes, and when she finds nothing but bubbling tension beneath your surface, she hardens her glare and crosses her arms over her chest, forcing her tits farther into your line of vision. She’s wearing a generic t-shirt, but she’s dressed it up with a pair of black slacks, kitten heels, and a blazer that you think she’s probably only worn for the commute there and back. Her bra is black, the thin strap sticks out from the collar of her shirt when she moves her arms, and the cups push her full breasts up even further. It's almost considered sinful by your standards, and that's a hard metric to meet, but Wanda does it without breaking a sweat.

“Then address me properly.” She settles you, and there’s nothing you can do to get out of this corner you’ve backed yourself into, so without any other choice, you submit to what she wants of you, and with that last ounce of control out of your grasp, your brain goes fuzzy around the edges until you’re taking the stairs one at a time at a pace that's almost robotic, but Wanda and Natasha are tuned in enough to know that you just can’t move any faster without your thighs creating friction that gets you in even more trouble. They laugh as you retreat, and the sounds of their echoing amusement following you into the dark, empty and cold master bedroom leaves a chill in your bones that you're not sure is ever going to warm again.

“Yes, Professor.” Your words echo in Wanda’s head even after you’ve disappeared into the bedroom. She assumes you’re doing what she asked, getting further undressed and settling into the bed with full intentions of being good for her, but she gives you time to marinate regardless. She kicks off her heels, kisses Natasha twice, three times, four times, until they’re backed up against the wall ripping off layers until it's bras and panties on both of them and t-shirts scattered on the floor beneath slacks and leggings. They don’t go any farther. As mean as they’ve been, as cruel as they still plan to be, it feels premature to go any farther when you’re waiting upstairs and Wanda hasn’t touched you since Sunday.

She thinks that Natasha took care of you. She was under the impression that you’d been given as many orgasms as you were allowed by Natasha while she was at work, handling end of year papers and exams that she just couldn’t focus on in her office at home. Her absence at home had been planned for weeks, she’d forearnderd you the day before she packed up all her favorite red pens and headed for the office that the next couple of days were going to be long without her home, but you had persevered and she had thought that your lack of whining over text meant that Natasha had satisfied you. Natasha just couldn’t keep the days straight without Wanda home to be nagging in her ear about recycling day and bulk collection day and how Pepper always goes to Yoga on Thursdays so she needs to stop counting on her to get finances in for the pilates class at her gym. She hadn’t realized that the last time she touched you was cruel and unsatisfying and four days ago, she has no reason to dwell on the specifics and she doesn’t even now. Not when Wanda breathes against her lips that she’s so happy its Friday, that she’s so relieved the semester ends next week and exams are two weeks afterward. It’s a small tidbit left undiscovered in a glass bottle on the coast. Her eye hasn’t caught the sparkling reflection of sunbeams bouncing off like warning signs.

Natasha enters the bedroom first. She glances at you, and she almost smiles when she finds you on the center of the bed, naked like Wanda asked, but holding a yellow throw blanket over your body as you shiver in direct line of the air conditioner that points toward the bed. She pads over to the thermostat without saying a word, turning the air off entirely though she knows that’s a dangerous game to play for later on when you’re all hot and sweaty and too tired to peel your bodies out of bed and deal with numbers and math and perfect temperature debates that never get settled but instead mulled over with compromises and grumbles of annoyed and reluctant compliance. For right now, she’s okay to sacrifice future comfort for present comfort, but there’s hardly enough time to take note of her wordless gesture because Wanda comes stalking in after her, and she pushes the door closed with enough force to have the sound reverberating through the bedroom. You flinch, grab the blanket a little bit tighter, and for a moment Natasha frowns, narrowing her eyes, trying desperately to see if there’s something beneath the surface that she’s missing, but your eyes are blown with lust, and you crane your body towards Wanda’s with a yearning desire that is so automatic you don’t even seem to realize you’re closing the gap between your bodies until the mattress dips beneath your ebbing weight and you nearly topple off of the bed.

“Drop the blanket and come here. Edge of the bed.” She clicks her tongue, her fingers too. It’s degrading. It makes your belly do flips and your eyes glaze over. “Spread your legs. Wider. Wider. Stop trying to hide from me.” She growls and the first touch of her skin against you is harsh and cruel and demanding as she spreads your thighs wider and opens up your cunt completely. Arousal drips from your entrance onto the bed sheets, pearls of glittering desperation unable to be hidden between your thighs any longer, and now that the moonlight shines upon those inches of skin too, evidence of lust is painted against your skin and it looks like it’s been that way for hours with the way your skin is red and raw with moisture. It’s pathetic, and it’s so unbelievably hot that Wanda isn’t even embarrassed to moan wantingly.

”She’s dripping.” Wanda hums, glancing over her shoulder to look at Natasha who hasn’t taken her eyes off of you yet, though she isn’t intent on unmaking your inner emotions anymore, but rather watching as Wanda sinks a finger between your thighs, spreads your labia, and prods your weeping hole with a featherlight touch only long enough to collect a bead of arousal on her fingertip and hold it up to the light. She pinches her fingers together, rubs the moisturized pads together until they’re both effectively lathered in slick, and then she pulls her fingers apart like they’re a sizzling mozzarella, and the pull of arousal following both of her fingertips makes your cheeks flame worse than any cheese pull ever has. You whine. It’s desperate, and wanting, and so small, but it only fuels Wanda further. She needs to feel you now. She needs to have her way with you for the first time since Sunday and remind you that you’re hers until the word goes up in flames. “You’re so sweet, princess. I could just eat you, but I won’t. No, I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet. Right now, I’m going to spank that pretty pussy raw, and then I think I’m going to fuck Natasha, and you’re going to watch it happen, and you’re not going to get more than I give you, and you’re not going to break me down, and you’re not going to complain. Do you understand me, detka? This is your only warning.”

You don’t have the words to answer her, so instead your fingers tap against your thigh twice, and for the very first time her lips curve into a smile and she nods like you’ve done something right. “Can’t find your voice? Too dumbed down to think straight?” She sneers, and her eyes are filled with something that you can’t decipher. Natasha knows its pride. She can practically see it dripping off of Wanda as she basks in your obedience even after deliberate disobedience for days on end. Again, neither of them realize that it’s been nearly a week since you’ve found peace with their touch. Again, neither of them realize that they’ve failed to communicate with each other and in turn left you stranded out in a sea you don’t know how to navigate on your own.

Neither of them realize you are giving them exactly what they want right now because it’s the only thing you can think to do to get any ounce of attention anymore.

Your fingers tap against your thigh again. Two times. Wanda nods acceptingly. “Good girl using your signals.” The praise washes over you like a blanket, and if you’d forgotten how you got into this mess at all, you remember now with every sense you have left in your head. The praise is warm, like sunshine or cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven and homemade in the dead of autumn. It wraps around your bones first, just hot enough to warm them for a moment before the feeling travels and it drowns your sensitive little heart in lightness that can only mean good things. It’s a momentary encouragement, but it’s enough to get you further into the scene at least. “Show me what stop is.”

Your fingers tap against your thigh twice, and then you stop, and then they tap three more times. Wanda doesn’t acknowledge you at first, so you repeat the action, and this time she nods with satisfaction that you remember. She doesn’t offer you any ounce of praise again, instead she just sinks behind you on the bed and wraps her arms around your waist until you’re flush against her chest and even more spread out than you were before.

There isn’t a warning before her hand comes down on your core with full force, her palm open, aiming to hit all of your sensitive parts with cruelty. It only takes one hit for you to realize that she wore rings today; more than just the promise ring Natasha had gifted the both of you on your respective one year anniversaries. The sting of metal is conflicting. It’s cold, sharp, what you imagine a venomous snake bite to feel like in the wild when it catches you by surprise and flashes through your veins with lighting speed. It’s a quick sensation, but it lingers on your labia and your clit and your weeping cole that caught the brunt of the friction from her palm that’s always rough with dryness.

Your hips jerk upwards, they chase her palm because the sensation is sharp, and it's painful, but as it ebbs away, it’s so sweetly pleasurable that your core jolts with burning desire to find more, to drown in it until there’s nothing left to feel or process besides euphoria. Wanda doesn’t like that. She doesn’t like that your hips jerk, and she wasn’t expecting them to. She doesn’t like that you’re still finding ways to misbehave even beneath her touch.

“Stay still.” She warns, her teeth nipping at your earlobe sharply. It stings, and she never soothes the ache with her tongue, and you whine so earnestly that Natasha almost feels bad, because she’s mean, but not as mean as Wanda, but she doesn’t feel bad enough to save you, and so nobody tends to the ache in your ear, or the pinch in your cunt when another slap doesn’t land in quick succession like you’d hoped. “Can’t even take a punishment. It’s like you’ve forgotten everything I taught you. Did you forget, detka? Do we need to start from the beginning? Reintroduce everything? Do you want to go back to only getting Daddy’s fingers because your tight little cunt can’t handle the strap?”

Your head shakes frantically, and you must look absolutely wild beneath the light that spills in from outside. The city is bright, shiny, dazzling, but Wanda Maximoff is a burning star and Natasha Romanoff is the very universe she explodes in and lights up with brightness that’s too hot to touch let alone look at nad see the full picture without being blinded and breathless and useless and you’re spiraling, you’re spiraling so far down into darkness that your train of thought abandons you and in the very moment that you lose all sense of where you are, drowning the scent ofWanda, and your arousal, and Natasha pacing across the room, apologetic but not enough to intervene, another slap lands between your legs and you howl with pain that becomes licks of tantalizing pleasure you can’t get enough of. You manage to stay still this time though. You don’t jerk, don’t chase her palm. You tense, you tighten, you bite down on your bottom lip until you almost taste copper, but you never move a single muscle.

Another slap comes down, and then another. She didn’t ask you to count them, so you lose count after the sixth. There must’ve been a nineteenth, because that number always makes Natasha laugh, and through thick tears in your eyes you registered her shoulders jostling from across the room before she’d turned away from the sight of you so completely unmade against Wanda’s chest to rummage through the closet. It weighs on you that she doesn’t even stick around to watch you be taunted and pulled apart so slowly and cruelly, it burns in your belly like shame, and for the first time you gasp in pain that has no pleasure, but before you can spiral, grasp onto sensations that have always been beneath the surface, that have fueled your every action since Wednesday afternoon, your brought back beneath the current of lust and willingness to do whatever the the hell they want when a slap comes down on your pussy that perfectly hits your clit. You're close. So close. Wanda knows. Of course she knows.

“Little sluts gonna cum from getting her cunt spanked!” Wanda calls out to Natasha, and your face burns with humiliation when you hear the thick laughter rumble from the closet. She slaps your core again, directly against your clit again, and that’s enough to have you dangling over the edge. You’ll take this orgasm. This orgasm that's going to be painful not just right now, but tomorrow morning when there's no pleasure left and only swollen lips and bruised skin, but for right now you’re willing to take it because it's the only thing they’ve given you outside of half asleep cuddles since Monday.

A gasp falls off of your lips when Wanda’s hand slaps against your clit again, but not with the same cruel pressure. It’s light. Deliberate. Your hips attempt to follow her palm when she retreats, her skin sparkling with slick, but she’s faster than you now, more coherent and intune with her body and its functions. She holds your hips down, forces your thighs wide. Your orgasm crashes over you and then it's gone, ebbing away into waves of pleasure that never dwindle, but never quite crash against the surface either. You’re sobbing, a mess of snot and tears, but no words escape you, and your fingers never tap your thighs, and your hands desperately shoot to Wanda’s wrists and try to pull them back to your core that weeps and drips lips a faucet or a widow, you’re not sure which one it is at this point — an inconvenience or a tragedy.

“Oh, you didn’t think I was just going to let you enjoy that orgasm, did you?” Wanda frowns, cupping your cheeks and bringing her thumbs against the damp skin, clearing away tears that are like diamonds on your flush skin. “Silly girl, you didn’t even ask for permission.” She clicks her tongue, and your brain is too fuzzy to comprehend that she’s blaming you for the ruined orgasm. She’d expected you to ask permission when she knew from the start that you couldn’t vocalize your wants even if you tried. It’s a thick blanket of something uncomfortable that smothers you when you realize that it had been a trap from the very beginning. You can’t handle another trap, another bout of teasing and creautly, but Wanda still has half of a plan to hatch, and you know she’s not going to stop unless you call it completely, but no part of you has the cognition to do that right now. Your brain is muddled, your thoughts aren’t your own, and the only thing you can process is them. Professor and Daddy. Professor and Daddy. Professor. Daddy. You need them. You need them fully and spiritually. You need them sinfully.

“Get on your belly.” Wanda moves away from you until her feet are on the floor and it's just you in the bed that feels too big for just your body. You do as she asks, even if you barely comprehend the task, and let your weight sink into the mattress as you finally lay down. It dawns on you now how tired you are, but Wanda can’t see your face, and Natasha watches your hands closely, but they never tap at your thighs in any fashion. You’ve always spoken up when something was too much. You’ve always used your signals when you were too deep into subspace to drop. She trusts you, and you’re showing clear trust in them, so they keep going, their reserves don’t break, and nobody sheds an ounce of pity as you whine and drip onto the comforter beneath your knees that Wanda props up like you’re just a doll for her to manipulate.

Somebody settles something between your legs, and only when your knees are guided back down and your hips are repositioned do you realize that it's the vibrator Wanda apparently bought three weeks after meeting Natasha. It’s big, and bulky, and you think superpowered though you have no proof, and when somebody flicks it on, you’re not sure who, it nearly sends you flying over the edge before somebody taps the button once, twice, three times and changes the setting to a low pulse that fades and goes at an uneven and deeply unsatisfying rhythm that you think must’ve been invented by a clueless man with no hobbies in life.

“You move a single muscle and I tie you up, understand?” Wanda waits for your fingers to tap against your thigh, even when it takes a full minute for you to process that she asked you a question at all. You tap twice, a silent confirmation of your understanding and acceptance, and so nobody thinks twice before they move on, Natasha pouncing on Wanda and stripping her out of her bra and underwear whilst Wanda does the same with her. They work in tandem. They always have. Wanda moves one way, Natasha moves the other. Even when Natasha’s searching for something dominating in Wanda, allowing her softer edges to shine through, they still move in harmony like its a practiced dance they’re showing you and ever so slowly teaching you. Even though you can’t see them, your face still buried in the blankets as your hips fight to remain still, you can imagine that they’re not moving with any less harmony and unity right now than any other moment you’ve witnessed them in. It makes everything ten times harder to handle, but when you finally do glance to the side, needing air that wasn’t restricted by the fabric that genuinely attempts to smother you in plain sight, you erupt into a whole new world of isolation when you watch Wanda hammer a dildo into Natasha’s cunt while the blonde’s fingers are burrowed between her legs, aiming to pull a quick and harsh orgasm from the redhead who doesn’t seem to have any complaints about not wasting time.

“Please!” It’s the first time you’ve spoken in a while, and your throat is scratchy and dry as evidence. You sound utterly pathetic, you look even worse, but there’s something soft about you as you fight to keep your head held up, twitching and jerking and so utterly helpless but in full control of your body. It’s addicting, alluring, intoxicating. It fuels Wanda on, but she doesn’t say a word, just rubs her thumb harder against Natasha’s clit and works the dildo faster, rougher, angling up to hit that spongy part in her walls that makes her head spin.

You can hear the vulgar squelches of their cunts as they work each other to orgasm, but you can’t distinguish which incessant squeak is Natasha’s and which is Wanda’s. They’re both moving too fast, with rhythmic paces that appear chaotic and unorganized to you right now. The soft tufts of hair between Natasha’s legs are red, ginger really, and they curl just slightly when she lets the bush grow out in the winter, but for summertime, her bikini line is cleanly waxed and her mound is adorned in only short strands of coarse hair that Wanda finds intoxicating to run her fingers over in the middle of the night aimlessly.

You’re still watching them when Wanda leans forward and captures Natasha in a kiss that looks bruising and rough and all encompassing, and your reserve breaks entirely when you watch them both come undone in climaxes that look satisfying and rewarding and soft as their fingers move slower and their wrists snap softly and they work each other through the height of blinding pleasure sweetly and tenderly — everything that you want, that you’ve been denied. It’s like they don’t care about you anymore. Do they not care about you anymore?

Suddenly it's hard to breathe, and even though Wanda never followed through on that threat of tying you down, you feel like your limbs are shackled to the bedpost and even though every nerve screams with oversensitivity from sensations you haven’t even been awarded yet, you can’t seem to move away from the vibrator that still torments your clit.

Natasha catches it first, the way you break,the way your knees lose their tension and your elbows unlock and your head drops against the bed like you just can’t bear the weight, and its confirmation that you’ve been off all along that has her rushing to your aid on the bed and quickly pulling the vibrator out from between your legs. “Hi, my love.” Her words are soft, sweet, so gentle you don’t recognize them and you continue to sob, gasping for breath, clawing at your throat, looking at her like you can’t even see her, twitching beneath her hands like you can’t feel them at all.

Natasha pulls you up into her lap, and apologizes when your clit catches on her thigh and pleasure shots through you so intensely that it hurts and you cry harder, coughing, spluttering, probably covering her with splatters of saliva but she doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t close her eyes and try to avoid the spray of your unruly emotions. She just lets you feel, and she lets herself feel, and she grounds herself in this moment because how did she not see it before? You’re never bratty. You’re never blindly disobedience nor are you rash or sexually impatient enough to do something as bold as slip Wanda your panties.

“It’s Friday.” Natasha blanches, her eyes trailing toward Wanda. She doesn’t let go of your cheeks, but she recognizes that you can’t hear her right now, that over the blood rushing in your ears and the sensitivity in your core not just from arousal but from Wanda’s unrelenting spanks too, you can’t even begin to process anything she’s saying. “I… I knew it was Friday, because I drove you to work, but I was convinced it was Wednesday because Pepper rescheduled the newsletter. Fuck.” Natasha pales, but Wanda’s still confused. Wanda still doesn’t know that you haven’t been properly touched in a week, or shown any kind of affection really, and so while she has sympathy and concern for your state, and her heart aches wondering where she went wrong, she’s not picking up on what Natasha’s trying to get across to her.

“What?” Wanda stalks closer. She’s unbalanced, slightly wobbly, but she doesn’t let it bother her anymore than she can control. You’re her entire priority, her entire world, and Natahsa’s scaring her immensely the longer she dances around the truth in burning shame and personal disappointment.

“I.. the last time I touched her was Monday. Did you let her cum at all?” She whispers and Wanda’s face pales, it’s her turn to realize that they’ve neglected you for days after scenes that warranted aftercare all on their own, let alone when they were strung together so closely and pointedly. She’d wanted to drive you crazy, she’d wanted to fuel you up, but then life had gotten busy, and it’s no excuse, but she’d forgotten all about your sexual escapades because it was just easy to move on with you. You take what life throws at you, and you always do it with a smile on your face — even when it’s breaking you apart.

“No.” Wanda shakes her head, and her hair falls over her shoulder and tickles her cheek as it sways and shifts with the motion of her head. “No, I told you to let her cum. I thought you did. Oh, my baby.” Wanda frowns, rushing the bed with a desperate urge to feel you and protect you. She can see it now, what she couldn't before, or perhaps didn’t want to. The blind devotion, the emotional withdrawal, the attitude and bratting. All the signs were there in theory, but you were just too damn good and appealing to their every desire. You were too damn good at sacrificing yourself for them even when the entire premise of your relationship is to do exactly the opposite. “It’s all done, moya lyubov. All done. Come back to me.”

It doesn’t happen right away. Not for a couple of minutes. But, eventually you begin to recognize hands on your cheeks, and you recognize hands on your lower back and thighs. Wanda touches you everywhere; wherever you can reach. Natasha stays in one place, she never moves, never even brushes her thumbs against your cheeks to clear your tears, she just holds your cheeks and keeps your eyes on hers even when Wanda moves around in your perphieral vision.

The ginger appears entirely calm, cool, and collected in your peripheral and hazed sense of cognition, she always appears so perfectly put together, but you know that she’s not somewhere deep inside of you. That small voice of reason doesn’t find a way out in this moment, instead, you drown in the promise that Wanda knows what to do, that Natasha won’t let you fall, and that they’re the only things that exist in this entire world even if they’re mean. that’s all you can think. Mean, mean, mean. You’ve stopped crying, but then your bottom lip begins to tremble again, and Natasha makes quick work of shaking her head and guiding you back to calm collectedness.

“Can I ask you a question, honey bee?” Natasha whispers, scared to hurt you, to scare you, to break you anymore than you already has. She recalls how you’d flinched when Wanda slammed the door unnecessarily and her heart clenches. She should’ve stopped the scene then. She should’ve trusted her gut in that single moment and stopped before it got to this point. Before it broke you so sinfully. She may like to see you cry, but she hates when it’s because she’s hurt you, failed to see you fully like she promised she always would. She loves when you tremble, when you twitch and jerk beneath her, but not when it’s from anxiety, when it’s because you’re so on edge and wound up that you don’t even know how to regulate your own emotions without her full guidance and attention on you. Wanda fares no better, but she can handle the mistake with grace because she has to, but Natahsa’s one tear away from joining you in your deep pit of darkness — dom drop. Wanda’s about to be playing a dangerous game if she doesn’t get the both of you under wraps before chaos really ensues.

“Natalia.” Wanda cuts in, and your eyes shot to her in alarm, a whine falling off your lips at her harsh tone. Wanda melts beneath your attention, scooping you up into her arms and leaving Natasha alone on the bed and still half dressed. “Idi, perevedi dukh i prinesi yey stakan vody. Tebe nuzhno uspokoit'sya, poka ya ne poteryal i tebya, ladno? (Go take a breath, and get her a glass of water. You need to calm down before I lose you too, alright?)” Wanda lets the words fall out naturally, like it takes no effort to switch back to Sokovian Russian and dance with Natasha intimately and personally. It dazzles you, it’s the first true glimpse at relief you’ve felt, and Wanda’s not lost on how you always seem to fold whenever her native tongue or accent comes out. You’re worse when its Natasha, and there’s evidence in your reaction as you whine and melt into Natasha like you’re just a little kitten desperate for warmth.

“I’ll be right back, printsessa.” She whispers, and her words are husked with a twinge of Russian that drives you absolutely crazy and clears the fog in your head just a little bit, but not enough to earn your voice back or pull away from Wanda’s chest at all. You nod, blink slowly, and grab at Wanda’s bra strap desperately until your knuckles are white and there’s no chance she can leave.

“I’m sorry we didn’t realize sooner, angel.” Wanda whispers once Natasha is out of earshot. Natasha may not be an outwardly emotional person most times. You can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve seen her cry, but you’ve learned that she’s more sensitive to failure and human mistake than Wanda is. If you were any clearer headed, you would’ve recognized that she’s beating herself up over this, but you don’t, so instead you just accept Wanda’s apology and believe her when she follows up with a whisper of, “It’ll never happen again.”

When Natasha comes back, she’s carrying two glasses of water and a protein bar that she only makes you eat when you don’t have enough energy to fight her because you hate the chalky taste. She feels like an asshole for bringing it to you now, but she always worries about you eating enough, call it a Russian stereotype, and she definitely would have brought Wanda one if she thought the ginger would’ve humored her for a second and even grabbed the bar when she handed it over. You weren’t as tuned into your surroundings, your cheek flush against Wanda’s chest as you cuddle as close as you can into her, desperately leeching her warmth. That’s another sign she missed, or maybe wanted to ignore. You’re always hot, their little furnace, but the second she’d come up to you shivering and hiding beneath the yellow blanket, she should’ve known something was wrong. She can’t change it now, and she can tell that Wanda’s already amended all that she can when you’re still so floaty, so she doesn’t waste time on another apology when you’re only half awake as it is, mindlessly chomping your teeth together because she’d fed you a bite of the protein bar when your eyes were closed.

“Off.” The first word off off of your lips is a breathy plead for more contact with Wanda, and she doesn’t hesitate for a second before she’s reaching behind her and unclasping her bra with one hand, freeing her breast for you to cuddle into all while Natasha merely admires the sight like she’s never seen it before. Not Wanda’s breasts, although she does spare a couple of seconds to admire them, but just how tender you are with them, how you let yourself be loved and comforted even when they caused it. She doesn’t deserve you, but she cherishes that you picked her regardless of her worth.

“Take a sip of water.” Wanda coaches when Natasha raises the glass to your lips but you refuse to drink, keeping your lips firmly pressed together and your hands on her breasts, squeezing, touching, just trying to feel as much as she’ll let you. She shifts when your weight becomes too much for her thighs, pins and needles shooting through her limbs, and you gasp when your clit catches on her thigh, and you're reminded of the sensitivity that is simultaneously blinding need. “Nu uh, not tonight, my love. Tomorrow I’ll make it all better, but we’re all done tonight. You were so good for me, so good, but it’s time to rest, so have a sip of water, and then were going to lay down and rest our eyes. We’ve had a long week, huh? You just need some cuddles and sleep to make it all better. I know. I know everything, baby girl. You never have to think when I’m here, so just stop, okay? No more thoughts, take a sip of water.” Wanda pauses, waits for you to comply, and when you do, greedily gulping down half of the glass when you realize how thirsty you are, she smiles. “Good girl. Such a good girl, my perfect girl. My best girl. That’s it, one more and then we’re going to lay down.”

You push Natahsa’s hand away after the last sip you take, feeling full and probably very buoyant fi you tried to go for a swim out back, but you don’t even think to move when you realize you have to pee, or that Wanda and Natasha haven't peed yet despite always going after a scene. You don’t have the entry to remind them, and Wanda, the stickler of the two, doesn’t seem to mind, so you don’t say anything that doesn’t need to be said. She guides you down into a laying position, soft and slow, cautious of the sensitivity in your head after so much crying. It makes you dizzy regardless, and you whine into her chest as she shifts and gets you comfortable.

“Shh, I know. I know. You’ve had such a long day, my brave girl. It’s all over now. All you need to do is close your eyes.” Wanda’s fingers tickle your back, gentle patterns that mean nothing but hold the potential of everything luring you to sleep until you jolt with sudden anxiety, reaching out for Natasha who seems too far away and too clothed.

“Off.” You huff again, and she laughs, but this time not like she did before, when it was cruel and mean and uncomfortable to handle and stand beneath without wilting. It’s soft now, charming, that laugh that fills you with light and love and energy, but there’s no energy right now. You’re tired, burnt out. You settle equally into her chest and Wanda’s when she takes her bra off, throwing it onto the floor to be added into the laundry later on along with your clothes and hers and Wanda’s that are still downstairs in the living room in a heap.

When your eyes finally close, and you fall asleep, you don’t wake up until one o’clock the next afternoon, but Wanda and Natasha are still beside you, wrapped up in bedsheets and t-shirts that drown them and conceal their chests from sunlight. For the night though, their skin is yours to feel fully beneath every inch of your body, because it had been far too long since they gave into this instinctive pleasure that keeps you all going. Never again would they let a week pass without prioritizing this — you. You’re everything to them, and Wanda tells Natasha as much before her eyes close, sleep winning the battle as you breathe deeply and evenly between them.

[tothisfeeling]

  𐙚  𓂃   ࣪    ◌      ' the brutal woman. '  🪽  𓉳    

 ྐ𖥨 pairing , 𓊇 jennifer jareau x reader 𓊆 summary _ ͏ৌৄ়়ৗ. you are a new agent in the bau, and your supervisory agent has just suffered the loss of her husband. you find her in the restroom after she's been crying. છਊ tags!     𓊇   degrading , slutshaming , mean!jj , sadist!jj , fingering (r. receiving) , semi - public sex , porn without plot.

word count : 4, 240 <3

Your stomach turns over when you hear it.

Not just crying, sobbing. Exhausted, grief-stricken, pained sobbing. Echoing out of the furthest stall from you, whose door is still swung open on its hinges, its occupant not worried over privacy.

You swallow, tears pricking at your own lashes, for you know just to who these sobs belong.

You close the door behind you, quiet as a mouse, yet when you turn the lock, quite selfishly so as you’d like not to be interrupted in a private moment which you so crave, the crying hiccups to a pause.

The bereaved sniffles, readjusts herself, emerges from the stall.

Jennifer.

You have worked under her for just under a month, and though you’ve known her for so brief of a time, you have already seen her at her very lowest. You feel so foolish now, harboring a crush on a woman who you have only just met, whose husband has just died, the funeral to which you were invited, yet did not attend for fear of overstepping. It feels as though any sense of morality has long since flown out the window, for you still find yourself blushing every time her gaze meets yours, the hair at the nape of your neck pricking to a stand each time her hand brushes against yours to exchange a file. Her husband has only just been buried; it is cruel of you to feel at all romantically towards this woman.

Yet, as she steps from her hiding place, pressing a tissue to the mascara which runs down her gaunt cheeks, you feel the pang of cupid’s arrow straight through your heart once again.

Though she glances towards you, she all but ignores your presence, leans against the sink in that signature way— the way which you’re sure is intentional in that it flexes the muscles of her arms so precisely that it makes you feel faint every time. The blonde takes several low beaths, her exhales shaky, her eyelids fluttering as if she is concealing another wave of tears. She stares at herself in the mirror, yet her eyes are glassy, unfocused. If she can even see her reflection through weak pupils, she is unhappy with the unprofessionalism that stares back at her.  

You chance a few steps toward her, standing at the furthest sink, finding her reflection in the long stretch of mirror.

“Are you—” You begin, voice lower than the fan buzzing throughout the room.

“I’m fine.” The blonde returns, her voice low, graveled and unemotional. She shoots you a look, blue eyes gone impossibly dark, like you best not approach her, like a lion in a cage that’s been hurt so frequently by the human touch that its temper has grown utterly violent.

You swallow once again, throat suddenly dry as she begins her approach towards you, likely past you, back into the bullpen, back to her desk to pretend that she has not shed tears on company time.

“If you need anything,” you try again, and as soon as the words have left your lips you regret them, for she’s stopping in her tracks. The blonde thrusts against you, slamming you against the wall with just enough force to startle you, to rocket your heartbeat up to a potentially dangerous speed, to force the tears into your own ducts.

“I said I’m fine,” she growls, her forearm pressed against your collarbone so that you are trapped entirely beneath her weight. She must sense the fear that has sparked beneath your skin, must feel the heartbeat which is so loud you feel it over every inch of your body, for the smirk that so subtly spreads across her lips is devilish. Your eyes, wide and pleading and wet, find hers for the first time since you were hired into the unit, blinking erratically, your chest heaving as you gaze up into her.

Her mind must be foggy, must be shadowed by guilt and grief, is certainly clouded by years of repression, for her next act truly pulls the breath from your lungs—

She kisses you. It is hot and rough and sloppy, her teeth crash against yours, the force of her arm against you pooling blood beneath your bone, bruising you. She does not aim to harm you, does not do this out of anger. If you were to ask, and yes, you will certainly ask once the feeling has returned to your knees and your senses can intake anything but the sweetness of her perfume, she would reveal that she has found you somewhat irresistible these past weeks. Young and bright and eager to please, ready to do anything she asks at the drop of a hat. Try as she has all these years to repress her true feelings towards the fairer sex, yet it all came crumbling around her the moment you stepped into the office in that tight little pencil skirt, gripping your briefcase so nervously, standing in front of the team like a deer in headlights.

Had her life not suddenly been targeted by the reaper, had her marriage continued on like any other day, had she convinced you to go out drinking with the rest of the team, perhaps she would have had her lips on you significantly earlier. Perhaps you would have fallen into a rhythm, like you do now, yet one with a far calmer state of mind.

The older woman cannot help herself, the hand not at your shoulder gripping into your hip, handling you so brutally that it makes your mouth water against hers. You kiss her back just as roughly, and if you weren’t caught so off guard your hands would make their own marks in her flesh, but they fall limp at your sides, your body motionless below her, entirely under her control.

A skip in your heartbeat must bring her back to her good graces, for she pulls back, a strand of spit holding in the air between you.

“Fuck,” she groans softly, taking a moment to capture the image of you like this, nose and chest flushed bright red, eyes gazing up at her so desperately, lips puffy from the violence of her teeth. The blonde drops her arm from its imprisonment of your chest, and it’s as if she’s been holding all of your weight, for you drop in height quite significantly at the motion.

“I’m sorry.” She swipes at her own purpled lips, thumb lingering for a moment, like she’s shell shocked by her own actions. “I shouldn’t have... Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Jennifer shakes her head, presses thumb and forefinger against between her eyes, turns her back to you. She starts to pace along the restroom, her boots loud and clunky like she barely has the energy to lift them.

“Whoa…” You hum, just barely above your own breath, looking down at your own shoes, using all of your might to stand upright. You stutter through a shy smile, trying to find the right words to tell a woman who has just kissed you while wearing the wedding ring of a dead man.

Just before she turns to leave, to flee the restroom, to likely give you the cold shoulder at least for the rest of your shift if not for the remainder or your career, you capture her wrist, take the little bit of control you have in this situation, force her attention to you. Her eyes are wild when they meet yours, worried and distant and furious at herself— she hasn’t slipped up like this in quite some time.

Jennifer always knew, somewhere deep down in the pit of her stomach, deep beneath bile and flesh and muscle, that her marriage to Will would never sustain her. She kept her urges at bay, would barely allow herself glances towards scantily clad women in bars the unit would visit, had forced herself into friendship with the gray-haired profiler whom she had once felt so deeply for. The southern drawl was the easy choice, the white picket fence in the suburb, the boys, the fairytale life… it was a way to ensure her safety, a guarantee of her legacy. At least she would be survived by two young men which bore her own downturned smile.

“JJ.” You whisper softly, the two consonants feeling impossibly thick on your tongue. You have little to say to her, have not undergone the stress of suppressing your true feelings for forty years. All you can offer her is the gentleness of your touch, as your fingers lift to delicately caress her jaw, thumb swiping over her cheek before you press a short kiss there, not to taunt or to excite her, but to test her waters, to ensure her comfort in the action. When she responds only with the fluttering closing of lashes, the subtle tightening of her jaw, you allow her what she’s braced for.

You press your lips to hers, soft and gentle and not at all what she has previously attacked you with. You still kiss her with that same fervor, your own need for this woman beyond anything she could possibly comprehend. Now is your turn to grab into her sides, to feel the strong obliques that taunt you beneath those tight longsleeves every single day. She moans softly into your lips when you paw at her musculature, slowly beginning to match the rhythm of your kiss, her hands falling from their clenched fists to lay flat against your sides.

There’s a growl from the back of her throat when your fingers hook into the loops of her waistband, tugging her just slightly closer, as if to further affirm that you are perfectly pleased by what she is doing, that you could kiss her like this for an eternity and never grow bored.

The integrity of it eludes you, your hands so full of her hips, mind all-consumed by the way that she captures your lower lip between her teeth, you can’t chance a thought to the gold ring around her finger, cannot conjure a thought towards her inner turmoil. You only think of making her feel better, of taking those tears from her eyes and replacing them with that low moan that’s hidden at the pit of her throat.

Jennifer pushes against you until she has you pinned once again, this time against the sink, sculpted arms lifting you up effortlessly until you sit on the edge of the porcelain. Your skirt, penciling your thighs together until it reaches just below your knees, constricts you so much that the blonde must force it up, angrily pushing at the material until it is bunched around your waist, until she can slot herself between your thighs to continue her assault of your lips.

Her tongue is wild, brushing over your lips before pushing past them, eager to taste every inch of you, while the rest of her body is completely stationary, hands holding your waist, hold strong and harsh, as if stopping any possibility of your wiggling free of her. It’s as if all of her energy is dedicated only to your taste, as if you are silencing all of the noise and the stress that has built into a knot in her shoulders, as if you are easing the tension in her hands and her thighs and her mind all at once.

Your hands are far more exploratory than her own, lightly tugging at the navy shirt, the one that she’s unbuttoned ever so slightly, likely to relieve the choking sensation it has caused, but also successful in making you drool at the small bit of cleavage it reveals. Your hands slip beneath the material, finding her tense muscle, and she flinches a bit because she’s so hot and overwhelmed by the sensation of kissing you that she’s begun to sweat, your freezing fingers making her abdomen contract.

“Jennifer,” you whisper in the short moment that you pull back to catch your breath, but her kisses do not stop, continuing to kiss eagerly against your chin and jaw. You want to speak more, want to ask her if she’s sure about this, but her hands slide to your thigh in a way that makes you speechless, your head falling back against the mirror behind you, separating your kisses.

The older woman watches you intensely from behind long lashes, her eyes just as dark and menacing as you remember, watching the heaving rise and fall of your chest, eying the buttons of your blouse like she’s telepathically willing them to be undone. There’s a blush across her nose and those protruding ears that you find so damn charming, but her mouth is straight-lined, her eyes boring into you as if you are under investigation.

She stares into you, calculating, as if waiting to see which of you will first fall back into the madness of your affair, your breath bated from the intensity of her glare. Ultimately, it is she who relents, who dips her head to teeth at your neck, pushing past the collar of your shirt, sucking in smooth skin so that you are covered in reminders of just how rabid you’ve made her feel.

Her hands are sneaky, slipping beneath the satin of your skirt, finding the lace underwear beneath. It makes her chuckle, lightly dusting vibrations across your collarbone as she pushes the lace down over your knees until it lightly dangles off of one heeled foot. Her touch is so rough, so cruel and demanding, up until the moment that she meets the heat between your thighs. She inhales sharply, her chest heaving against you, like she is faltering for the very first time, feeling the wetness she herself has caused in the first place.

“Fuck,” she whispers once more, her fingers twitching against your cunt, like she is so greedy, desperate, to sink them into you, yet somewhat disgusted by her own need for you. “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?” She mewls, voice now dripping with the slightest Appalachian accent, her forehead leaning against your bare chest.

You nod a little, hips bucking, chasing after her touch, but she is so heavy atop you, other hand stabilizing your waist, that you cannot do much in your chase.

“Dressed up in this pretty little skirt, locking the door behind you when you came in. You’re just a little whore.” Her voice has even dropped an octave since last she spoke, her hold on you tightening with every breath.

The cruelness of her words has you clenching your thighs together, and you both can feel the way you’re practically dripping onto the counter below you. The blonde is impossibly stuck to you, her head not lifting, even as you frantically unbutton your top, desperate to feel her skin against your own, freeing the lace of her bra for which she’s sure to degrade you further.

The blonde teases a finger through your folds, forcing a moan from your lips which is far too loud for an affair of this caliber, and once again she is kissing you just to shut you up.

“God, you love this. You’re so filthy.” She whispers against you, mouth hot, breath tasting so vaguely of your own vanilla lip gloss. It’s sudden, the way she slides two fingers into you, so easy and controlling and forcing the whimpers from your mouth. You can feel the baring of her teeth, the grin from her own pleasure in hearing your depraved little noises, the glee radiating off of her in that she’s got you in this position so easily.

You love it too, you want to tease, want to prove that you may really be worthy of your status as a profiler. Your lips part to talk, to taunt, but the lithe fingers curl within you, and your teeth clamp down around your bottom lip so hard that you’re certain you’ve drawn blood.

Your fingers fling to her head, and you’re so dizzy from her sloppy kisses to the bits of flesh that poke out from your bra that you find yourself furious at the tie that holds up her hair. You tug at it a bit, want it out, but wind up pulling the weft of hair too tightly, make the blonde curse from the pain. Her head snaps up from its position at your tits, and when your lips part again to apologize profusely, her arm hand lifts from its position at your waist to grip at the curls at the nape of your neck. She pulls, hard, far harder than you had expected, making you squeak, hiss through your teeth.

“That hurt, baby?” She muses, only tugging tighter when it takes you even a split second to answer. You find it impossible to speak, some tightness formed in your throat from the downright maliciously slow pace that the blonde has developed that makes it hard for you to do much more than babble. You even try to nod, but her grip on you is so tight that any attempt at movement is futile, so you refrain to simply looking up at her, jaw slacked, hips greedily grinding against her palm.

“Good.” Jennifer hums, does not allow for a moment of slack, keeps her your hair tightly fisted, only now begins to increase her pace. She allows the smallest of brushes of the heel of her palm against your clit, making your body begin to twitch up towards her, just as she wants. For a woman who has been married to a man for the past decade, she seems to know just how to touch you to make your vision blurry, your stomach contract, your hands clench around nothing.

You reach for her again, this time far gentler in your approach, eventually flatten your palms against her arched back. You claw at the material of her shirt until you feel warm skin, gently tickle her spine with your nails. You’re just lucid enough to feel the way her skin ripples under your touch, to hear the heavy pants of her breath.  

Her fist falls from your hair, the pain still throbbing there from her pulling. It is a delicious pain, one that you revel in, one that you’d like her to inflict endlessly.

The blonde’s hand moves now in favor of forcing the lace over the mound of your breast, the short-cut fingernails gently pinching at your flesh, pebbling your nipple beneath her masterful hand. She sighs contently, mockingly hitching her breath in unison with you, softly chuckling at the way that you brokenly whisper her name in between pants.

She knows that you’re close, cannot hide the grin that parts her lips when you tighten around her fingers. She knows you’re close, but she’s not quite done with you just yet.

She continues to draw those salacious moans from you, thumb lifting to circle your clit, her pace quickening, fucking you hard and rough and all of the ways you’ve been too shy to ask for in the past, but that you’ve so desperately needed. You’re bouncing against her, almost frightened for the porcelain that you sit atop, fingers digging into her flesh so deeply that she’s bound to be covered in long scratches. The way that her eyelashes flutter, so shallow with eyes unfocused, you’re sure that she has been longing for this pain as well.

JJ hasn’t felt this way in years— no real pleasure nor pain, not even a real hurt when stubbing her toe or hitting her head. She has become all but numb to the world, to the gore that comes with her environment, to the agony of losing the only relationship she’s ever known. Yet now, with your nails so sharp against her that crimson blood slides down muscle, she feels alive again. Feels the sting of scraped skin, is finally able to enjoy the indulgence of pressing lips to skin.

The blonde lifts her gaze to look up at you, strokes your face so delicately, swipes a thumb by the tears which have begun to form on your heavy lashes. Once again, her own actions are uncontrollable, and her caressing hand dips from cheek to chest, lightly pressing into collarbone, into neck. She applies pressure only where she knows it is safe, only where she knows you’ll lose breath for a heartbeat of time, knows that the loss of air will have you unravelling below her.

She must know you too well, far better than you know yourself, for the moment that her thumb applies that pressure to your carotid, you’re coming hard against her palm, back arching towards her, begging for her closeness.

You do lose the breath, and she takes it, insatiable for your taste, capturing your lips once again beneath her own, as if she is bound to swallow you whole. The older woman releases her clasp around your neck, gently pets your cheek, your hair, pulls back to ensure that she hasn’t overdone it.

You blink up towards her, heartbeat a million a minute, blood rushing so close to your skin that you’ve turned entirely bright pink. While she assesses you, you can only stutter against your own lips, feeling as though a piece of you has gone missing, for the lack of her lips against your own feels to be a catastrophic loss. You don’t quell on it too long, for the way in which she pulls her fingers from you and up to her own lips, cleans the slick from them in a downright egregious display, makes you so dizzy that you fall against the mirror.

“God, look at you,” she groans, finally releases the ponytail you had once been so desperate to free, runs a hand through her hair. “Such a mess.”

Her chuckle is dark and gluttonous, frown feigning a pity that makes your stomach flutter, and though you don’t notice for the fog of lust that fills your brain, Jennifer reaches down ever so slightly to slip the panties from your ankle, slips the pink lace into her back pocket.

JJ then takes your hand, her touch now ginger and trepidatious, helping you off of the sink’s edge and onto your wobbling feet. She spins you just a few degrees so that you are once again trapped under her, this time so that you look into the mirror, pinned between the two strong arms which hold you in place. You blush profusely at the sight of yourself— hair messy around your shoulders, eyes wide and pupils dilated, lips so puffy from her violence that you might pass it for an allergic reaction of some sort.

“Are you okay?” Her voice is just as low, but utterly sweet now, as she pushes some hair to the side, presses a kiss to your cheek. “I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I, sweetheart?”

Your knees, already as weak as they could ever be, falter below you from her sickeningly sultry tone, so that the blonde has to hold you up by the waist while she helps button your blouse.

“I’m far better than okay…” You smile, entirely unconvincing as you’re so fucked out by her that you can hardly stand on your own. You lift a hand to angle her face in just the right way, pressing one more kiss to her cheek.

She blushes a bit, turns her head so that she can nuzzle her nose into the crook of your neck, dot small pecks into the skin which has already begun to purple.

You evaluate yourself in the mirror, building a mental file of all of the things you’ll need to fix in your appearance in order to return to your desk and go about your day. It is a hard thing to do, to think practically, to even consider returning to work, when there’s a woman who has just completely blown your mind, tongue dancing around the protruding veins in your neck, hands undoing the work that you’ve just done to tuck your shirt in just for one last touch of your soft belly.

“We need to go back to work…” You whisper softly, through gritted teeth, horribly angry at yourself for bringing it up in the first place, but so eager to please your superiors that you’re almost willing to let JJ peel herself away from you in order to do so.

Jennifer sighs, her body finally lacking its typical tension, her arms around you so strong and warm that you’re certain this is the safest, the most comfortable, that anyone has ever been in their history.

“If you insist…” JJ rolls her eyes quite dramatically, typical disposition returned, far from the woman that you had walked in on just minutes earlier. She stands, finds it impossibly difficult to remove herself from you, chances one last sneaking kiss to your cheek before she parts. “Give me a few minutes before you come out, hm? Wouldn’t want to start a rumor, would we?”

She flashes a wink in your direction, laughs a bit to herself, clicks open the lock, slides out the door.

You swallow hard, finally intake the breath that has been eluding your lungs. You fix your hair, buttons, swipe at the makeup that has pooled beneath your eyes. You do just as you’ve been told, wait a few minutes, replaying the moment over and over in your mind, think of nothing but Agent Jareau.

[tothisfeeling]

Taste of Obedience

Dom!Human!Wanda x subby!vampire!reader

Summary: You're a vampire, ancient and obedient, but Wanda? Wanda owns you in every sense. She's human — painfully so — warm, bleeding, alive. And when she lets you sink your fangs into her throat, it’s not just about feeding. It’s devotion. It’s power play. It’s control.

Tonight, she lets you drink. Slowly. Teasingly. But only when and how she says.

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, blood drinking (consensual), power imbalance (negotiated, consensual D/s dynamic), dom!Wanda / sub!reader dynamic, possessive language & ownership kink, mild overstimulation, praise kink, post-bite soreness / gentle aftercare, one-sided sleep (reader does not sleep), vampire themes (immortality, fangs, blood), emotional intimacy & codependency undertones

Authors note: I had this idea of a powerful being who wasn't so powerful when it came to Wanda. It flowed so beautifully out of me this morning.

The taste of Wanda’s skin was forbidden fruit.

You weren't allowed to bite — not without permission.

And tonight, permission wasn’t coming easy.

Wanda had you on your knees at her feet, hands folded neatly in your lap, your fangs aching behind your lips. Her body heat was unbearable this close — a furnace radiating against your chilled skin. You could hear her heartbeat, steady and slow, taunting you.

“You’re squirming,” she murmured, tilting your chin up with two fingers. “Something wrong, little fang?”

You swallowed, eyes wide and dark in the candlelight. “I-I need…”

“I know what you need.” Her smile was cruel in the most loving way. “But you don’t get to take it. You earn it.”

Your throat bobbed, the ache to sink your fangs into her pulse point clawing at your control.

Wanda leaned closer, lips brushing your ear. “Say it. What do you want?”

“...To bite,” you whispered, shuddering.

“Say it properly.”

You whined, eyes fluttering closed. “Please, Mistress. Please let me bite. I’ll be good…”

Wanda hummed thoughtfully, trailing her fingers down the side of your throat, letting you feel just how vulnerable she was — how easily she could give you what you craved.

But you belonged to her now. A vampire on a leash. Her pet.

“Maybe,” she said at last, drawing back and straddling your lap, “if you beg pretty enough, I’ll let you have a taste.”

She smiled when your fangs dropped involuntarily.

“Such a hungry little thing.”

Wanda’s thighs cradled your hips as she settled in your lap, warm and commanding. Her fingers threaded lazily through your hair, tugging just enough to remind you who was in control.

Your hands stayed exactly where she expected them — limp at your sides, trembling, even though every part of you screamed to touch her. Your instincts, your hunger, your damnation all thrummed beneath your skin like static.

“You know,” she murmured, her voice syrupy and slow as she rocked her hips forward ever so slightly, “you’re lucky I find this whole pathetic need of yours so… cute.”

You whimpered.

She tilted her head, exposing her throat — just a glimpse of the skin you craved more than blood itself. Then, she grinned and tilted it right back.

“Not yet,” she said sweetly, stroking the line of your jaw. “I want to hear more. Tell me what it does to you, knowing I’m right here — warm, alive, bleeding just under the surface — and you’re not allowed to touch me.”

You blinked fast, fangs pressing hard against your bottom lip. “It hurts, Mistress.”

“I know it does, baby.” She cooed, her nails dragging lightly down your chest. “Hurts here?” One nail traced the space above your heart. “Or here?” She cupped between your thighs just briefly before retreating.

You bucked up into the phantom of her touch, breath catching.

“Both,” you admitted shakily. “Please. Please, I’m so hungry…”

Wanda clicked her tongue, as if scolding a child. “You think I don’t know how hungry you are? I can feel it in you, little bat . The way your whole body hums with it. But want and deserve are two very different things.”

Her hands slid around the back of your neck, nails scratching lightly as she leaned in, her lips ghosting your cheek.

“You’ve bitten me before without asking,” she whispered, her tone sharp with accusation. “You promised you wouldn’t again.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you gasped. “I lost control —”

“And who do you belong to?” she interrupted, pulling back to meet your eyes, her own blazing with intent.

“You,” you breathed. “Always you.”

“That’s right.” She kissed you then — not soft, but claiming. Her tongue slid against yours, and you tasted her spit, her heat, her power. It wasn’t blood, but it was intoxicating. Your nails dug into your thighs to keep from moving.

Her hand suddenly tangled in your hair and yanked your head back, exposing your throat now.

“Say it again.”

“I belong to you.”

Her lips brushed your neck, mimicking what you longed to do.

“You’ll drink when I say so,” she murmured, and you whimpered as she scraped her teeth along your throat in wicked mockery. “Beg one more time, and I’ll think about it.”

You were desperate now, eyes wide and glossy, your voice cracking.

“Please, Mistress. Please let me drink from you. I’m yours. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. I need it, I need you…”

Her breath hitched — just slightly. Enough to tell you she liked that. Liked hearing you fall apart.

Slowly, deliberately, she shifted in your lap again and drew your face into the crook of her neck. Her pulse was right there. So close. You moaned from the proximity alone.

“Okay,” she said softly. “You’ve earned it.”

Your body went boneless with relief, and just as you began to move in, her fingers threaded through your hair again, tightening hard.

“But,” she added, low and firm, “you bite slow. You drink only when I say. And you stop the second I tell you.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you breathed, barely able to contain yourself. “I promise.”

“Good girl.”

She tilted her head, exposing the smooth, delicate skin of her throat — and finally, finally, she whispered:

“Drink.”

You sank in — slow, reverent. Her blood burst across your tongue like fire and honey, thick with life and heat and Wanda. She let out a soft gasp, her hand stroking the back of your neck, grounding you, guiding you, owning you.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispered. “Take it slow. My good little vampire.”

And you did — because she asked, because she allowed it, and because everything you were belonged to her.

Her blood was everything.

Warm. Sweet. Saturated with her magic and will and humanity — and the taste of her love, because even Wanda’s dominance was affectionate in its own twisted, perfect way.

You drank slow like she asked, fangs buried in her throat, hands shaking where they hovered at her waist. Every instinct screamed to drink deeper, to hold her tighter, to take, but you didn’t. You wouldn’t.

Because she let you.

Because she told you to.

Your arms eased up around her, slow and careful, wrapping her in your embrace without squeezing, without claiming. You never held her too tightly. You couldn’t — wouldn’t — risk hurting her, not even by accident. She was breakable. Human. Yours.

And above all, you were hers.

Wanda stroked your hair lazily, her breathing steady while yours grew rough — not because you needed it, but because it helped, gave you a rhythm to anchor your control.

Her voice broke through the haze: smooth, sharp as a command.

“Stop.”

You froze. Fangs still inside her. Breath stuttering against her skin. Your eyes flew open, wide and frantic. You whimpered against her throat.

But you didn’t move.

Didn’t pull back.

Didn’t drink.

Just… stayed there, trembling, trying so hard to behave.

“Good girl,” she murmured, and her nails scratched softly at the nape of your neck. “Still learning how to behave, but you’re getting there.”

You moaned helplessly. Her blood sang through your mouth, coating your tongue, tempting you even now.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” she whispered. “My heart… still beating. My body, still warm. And you’re so cold, sweet girl. So empty. But you’re not going to take what isn’t given.”

You whimpered again, your mouth still latched to her skin, fangs shaking from restraint.

“You’re going to wait,” she said, hand fisting in your hair. “Because I said so.”

Your arms tightened around her a little more, never enough to bruise, just enough to cling. To say I’m here. I’m listening. I’m yours.

You wanted to sob — from hunger, from devotion, from how badly you needed her to say yes again.

And Wanda — cruel, knowing, amused — nuzzled your temple.

“Breathe for me,” she said softly.

You obeyed, inhaling against her neck, shaky and slow.

“Good. Now exhale. Focus.”

You did.

She waited a moment longer, making sure you really held still, before her hand relaxed in your hair and her breath danced over your ear.

“Start again, baby.”

You made the softest, most broken sound — a breathless gasp of gratitude — and resumed.

Carefully. Worshipfully.

Drinking not because you could, but because she let you.

Wanda sighed, letting herself melt into your lap again, perfectly relaxed, completely safe — despite the predator wrapped around her.

“That’s it,” she murmured, almost teasing. “Nice and slow. My good little monster.”

The moment Wanda said start again, you sank back into her throat like it was the most sacred place in the world.

Because it was.

The pull was slow, gentle — reverent. You obeyed to the letter, but you couldn’t stop the little whines in your throat. Each swallow made your hands tremble, your mind quiet, your whole world narrow to the pulse beneath your tongue.

And Wanda was feeling it.

She shifted in your lap, grinding herself against the firm line of your thigh. A sharp gasp left her lips — small, but real.

You knew this rhythm. This body.

You knew what your bite did to her. How her blood ran hotter the deeper you drank. How the pain mixed with pleasure until it blurred into a fever in her skin. You felt her magic flicker beneath her skin like a lit match waiting to catch.

Her fingers tightened in your hair.

“Fuck,” she breathed out, voice cracking.

That wasn’t just arousal — that was need.

You moaned against her, eyes fluttering shut. Her hips rolled again, slow but purposeful, chasing the friction.

“You don’t get to move,” she managed, voice strained. “Don’t… fuck, don’t you dare help me.”

You obeyed. Not a single thrust back. Not a grind. But you held her, arms locked around her back, anchoring her to you as she used your thigh, your body, her vampire.

Her pet.

Her source of pleasure, and pain, and everything between.

She buried her face in your hair as her noises grew more desperate — soft, gasping moans with every twist of her hips.

The taste of her deepened. Darkened. You could feel her heartbeat in your tongue now, rapid and erratic, responding to the heat building between her legs.

You held still like she asked. Even as her nails bit your shoulders. Even as she shook a little in your arms.

“Fuck, baby…” she whispered, her voice almost cracking into a whimper. “You have no idea what you do to me…”

But you did.

You knew.

You’d tasted her blood a hundred times. You felt how deep the reaction went. How intimately her body tied pain to pleasure — how even the softest feed left her breathless and shaky in your arms.

You knew her tells: the magic buzzing at her fingertips, the hitch in her breath when your fangs scraped just right, the way her thighs tightened around you as she fought to keep control.

And she was losing it.

Because even though you were the one kneeling, trembling, biting her throat — she was the one unraveling.

Her hips jerked once, rhythm faltering, and she let out a helpless little moan, high and sharp.

Your breath caught.

Wanda swore under her breath and grabbed your jaw, yanking your head back just enough to pull you off her neck. Blood painted your lips, and you blinked up at her, dazed and starved.

She looked wrecked.

Flushed cheeks. Wild hair. Lips parted.

“Don’t you dare look smug,” she growled, but her voice was shaking. “That wasn’t permission to get cocky.”

You nodded, wide-eyed, blood slicking your mouth.

“I wasn’t,” you whispered. “I swear, Mistress.”

She glared — then kissed you hard, her tongue licking into your mouth, tasting her own blood off your lips with a hungry groan.

“I’m not done with you,” she breathed against your mouth. “Not even close.”

And you believed her.

Because you’d barely scratched the surface of what Wanda Maximoff could do with a trembling vampire wrapped around her finger.

Wanda was breathless, flushed, and trembling slightly when she pulled back from your blood-slick mouth.

Still straddling you. Still in control.

You were hers — panting, fangs aching, lips red from the taste of her. And when she reached down and tugged your shirt up and over your head, you let her, limbs pliant and obedient.

“Sit still,” she ordered, and you did.

She pulled your bra off slowly, watching the way your chest rose and fell in anticipation, her eyes flickering with heat. Her fingers grazed your skin — barely there — and still you shivered like she'd burned you.

“You don’t get to touch me,” she said, voice dark and low as her hands slid down your body. “You hold me. You feed from me. But you don’t fuck me unless I say.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you whispered, voice trembling.

Wanda rocked her hips again, harder this time, and your hands flew to her waist — not to move her, just to hold. Steady. Supportive. Worshipful.

She ground down harder, chasing friction against your thigh through the thin fabric of her panties. She wasn’t hiding the way she moaned now, short and sharp, every breath dripping heat as her fingers dug into your shoulders.

“This is mine,” she whispered, dragging her nails down your chest. “All of you. Even this need you think I don’t see. I own it. You don’t come until I do.”

You whimpered.

She rolled her hips again — and again — soaking the front of your jeans, her body pulsing with magic that sparked against your skin, fraying the edges of your control. But you held firm, nails pressing into your own thighs to keep from moving. From begging.

From doing anything but what she let you.

Wanda's moans grew louder, less composed. Her head fell to your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin where you’d bitten her earlier.

And then — a shudder, a breath held too long — her whole body jerked once, and a loud, broken sound fell from her lips as she came against you.

It was messy. Slow. Her body shaking in your arms, hips twitching as she rode it out, panting into your neck like you were the one keeping her grounded.

You were.

Your arms were wrapped tight around her. Not possessive — never that. But protective. Present. The kind of hold that said: I’ve got you. Take what you need. I’m yours.

Wanda slumped into you, chest heaving, and for a long moment, neither of you moved. You felt her heartbeat against your skin, rapid and erratic and human.

You kissed her temple softly, lips stained red.

Only then did she pull back and cup your cheek.

“Still with me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, eyes hazy, every nerve humming with the weight of her.

She smiled — tired and wicked and full of something soft.

“You did so well,” she whispered. “So good for me.”

Your throat bobbed. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Wanda slipped off your lap and gently pushed you back onto the couch. Her fingers made quick work of your jeans, and before you could protest — or beg — she was between your thighs, her hand pressing flat against your center through your soaked underwear.

“Now,” she said, her voice like velvet. “Now you get to come.”

You came fast — embarrassingly fast — hips bucking up into her hand as she rubbed tight, practiced circles over your clit. All the blood, all the restraint, all the tension that had built up through obedience and denial crashed through you in a wave.

And Wanda watched, chin propped on your thigh, grinning like the smug devil she was.

“God, you’re pretty when you fall apart,” she murmured.

You whimpered, back arching, thighs trembling, and then — finally — you collapsed.

Spent.

Full.

Shaking.

Safe.

Wanda didn’t rush the come-down. She climbed back into your lap, straddling you again — this time to soothe, not to take. She cradled your face, pressing kisses to your cheeks, your brow, the corner of your mouth.

“Easy, baby,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

You clung to her, still panting despite the fact that your lungs didn’t need to. Your whole body ached in the best way.

She cleaned the blood from your chin with her fingers and pressed them into your mouth to suck.

“There’s my good girl,” she murmured. “Took it so well. You always do.”

You leaned into her, eyes fluttering shut, resting your forehead to hers.

Her hand stroked your hair. “You did everything I asked.”

You nodded.

“And when I told you to stop, you stopped.”

Another nod. A tiny, broken sound of pride caught in your throat.

Wanda kissed you once — soft, slow, grateful.

“You’re mine,” she whispered. “Every inch of you. Forever.”

And you were.

Wanda was the one who moved first, even though her body was still shaky and her thighs still pressed damp against your jeans.

“Come on,” she murmured, cupping your jaw with one hand and pressing a final kiss to your lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You went with her without question, clinging just a little as she guided you to the bathroom. She chuckled softly, arm around your waist.

“You always get like this after,” she teased, voice warm. “Like a baby bat stuck to me.”

You nuzzled your face into her hair, still overwhelmed, still grounded in her scent.

She bathed you both gently — hands slow, steady, not teasing anymore. She peeled away your ruined clothes and held you under the warm spray of the shower, fingers stroking your back, humming softly under her breath.

It soothed the leftover trembles in your limbs.

She washed your hair like you were precious. Like she liked doing this for you. She always did — insisted on it, really.

And afterward, she dressed you in soft pajamas — one of her oversized shirts and a pair of cotton shorts you couldn’t remember stealing but were definitely yours now. She dressed herself in a robe, loose and cozy, and tugged you by the hand into the kitchen.

Wanda didn’t even give you the chance to ask. She pulled a sealed container of blood from the fridge and handed it over wordlessly, then turned to fix something for herself.

You sat on the edge of the counter, sipping slowly, still a little floaty. Your fangs had finally retracted, but your gums were sore. That always happened when you drank too slowly.

She glanced over and frowned. “Still tender?”

You nodded.

Without saying a word, she pulled out one of her freezer packs and wrapped it in a dish towel. She pressed it gently to your cheek, right where your jaw was clenched.

You leaned into it with a soft sound of gratitude.

Wanda made herself a grilled cheese — extra sharp cheddar, exactly the way she liked it — and slid it onto a plate. She only ate half before she offered you a bite.

You hesitated, but took it when she gave you that look — the one that said let me care for you back, dummy.

When you were both fed and warm and finally calm, she took your hand again and led you back to the bed. She crawled in first, reaching for the blanket, but stopped when you climbed in behind her and pulled her gently into your arms.

“You need sleep,” you whispered against her hair.

“You need rest,” she murmured back.

“I don’t sleep.”

“I know,” she said, already burrowing into your chest. “I just like saying it.”

You held her close, your arms wrapped around her waist, your chin tucked over her head.

Wanda let out the softest sigh — barely a breath — and her whole body relaxed in your hold.

It was the only time she ever went limp like that. Only after you fed. Only when her magic quieted and her body was wrung out and her heart beat a little slower in her chest. That was when she let herself be small. Tired. Human.

You didn’t need to breathe, but you did anyway — slow and steady, chest rising with hers. You liked matching her rhythm. It made her feel less alone.

Her fingers twitched against your shirt. “Still with me?”

“Always,” you murmured.

She hummed. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” you agreed, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Always.”

She drifted not long after, body warm and boneless against yours.

You stayed still.

You never moved while she slept. She hated waking up alone.

So you stayed — watching the way her lashes fluttered against her cheek, the way her lips parted slightly, how utterly soft she looked when all the sharpness faded from her face.

Powerful, fierce, brilliant Wanda — sleeping safe in your arms.

Yours to protect.

Hers to belong to.

You didn’t need sleep.

You had everything you needed right here.

[tothisfeeling]

rubix's masterlist [find my series masterlist here]

disclaimer: don't forget to read the warnings on each individual fic [minors do not interact with my smut fics]

kate bishop

come back home...(i'm afraid of disappearing) aka kate comes home after a rough night out patrolling the city to find you waiting for her. despite the argument the two of you had earlier in the day, you do everything in your power to comfort your girlfriend.

i think i love you still aka you've spent four years trying to understand the complicated mess of thoughts that make up kate bishop. after dealing with the pain of her absence, and the more significant pain of her return, you finally get it right.

my ears fill with the sound of you kneeling [SMUT] aka you and your girlfriend explore a slightly unconventional form of comfort after you catch her slipping into her self-destructive tendencies again.

no such things as good grief aka you always knew being a superhero came with a long list of dangers but it turns out you weren't quite ready to deal with someone else suffering for your mistakes.

you can see it with the lights out aka enduring a storm and a subsequent power outage with kate bishop by your side might not be the worst thing in the world.

bleeding me dry like a goddamn vampire [SMUT] aka a failed mugging leads to you discovering kate's biggest secret...and her finding out yours.

can you see right through me? aka you're notoriously bad at archery and somehow even worse at keeping yourself together around a certain kind-eyed archer.

for your love, i'll do whatever you want [SMUT] aka omega heats are incredibly unbearable, thankfully kate knows just what to do to make you feel better.

i'm all skeleton and melody aka kate calls for backup when she realizes how underprepared she is to help you deal with your grief over losing may.

searching for redemption [SMUT] aka a multiversal anomaly grants you and your girlfriend the opportunity to explore some of your more...intense desires.

i wanna make your heartbeat run like rollercoasters [SMUT] aka things take a surprising turn when kate's alternate self shows up in the middle of an ongoing [slightly public] battle between you and your archer.

what your hands were made for [SMUT] aka kate ruins a cute moment by getting a little too excited about you wearing her hoodie.

make you mine this season aka a badly timed snowstorm leaves you unable to make it to the barton farm for christmas. thankfully, a certain archer shows up to keep you company.

kissing in the crossfire aka you and kate are better off apart. unfortunately, you can't stay away from each other long enough to realize some puzzle pieces aren't meant to fit together.

caught myself aka kate's competitiveness gets in the way of her seeing you for who you truly are.

ain't that the kicker aka the morning after your late-night encounter with kate doesn't go quite as planned...and neither does the day after that or the day after that.

underneath my skin aka it takes a few tries but after kate shows up unannounced at wanda's cabin, you finally make things right.

when it rains aka when the threat of relapsing rears its head, kate does her best to support you...even when you try to push her away.

why we ever [SMUT] aka forgiveness comes in many different shapes. thankfully, you and kate find the one that works best for both of you.

hold you in my arms tonight [SMUT] aka kate's spending another late night at the office and you do what you always do best: distract her enough so she'll pay attention to you instead

i bet it stung aka kate tries her best to be there for everyone but sometimes, she messes up.

an inch away from more than just friends [SMUT] aka falling in love with your best friend is supposed to be easy. unfortunately, neither you nor kate are particularly good at talking about your feelings.

i'll be home for christmas [SMUT] aka even though you wake up alone on christmas day, kate finds a way to make it up to you the only way she knows how.

you could love me if i knew how to lie aka after spending all your teenage years engaged in a somewhat unserious rivalry, kate bishop makes her way back into your life as the last thing you need: a security guard. maybe it'll be the push you need to admit your feelings for her...or maybe just an excuse to bicker with her.

how you thrill me [SMUT] aka kate takes you out shopping for the next gala you’re attending together but she gets distracted in the dressing room.

hailee steinfeld

frequency of all we know... aka you and your girlfriend share an intimate moment during the Vanity Fair afterparty.

it's you that i've been missing aka a quiet morning with hailee leads to an invitation to move in with her…and the creation of her new song.

coming up for air aka when you're drowning under the weight of your thoughts, hailee becomes the life jacket that keeps you afloat.

sneaking out into town, holding hands, just killing time. aka amidst the chaos of the across the spider-verse press tour, and the unavoidable PR stunts she has to do to cover up your relationship, your girlfriend finds comfort in you.

guess we lied [SMUT] aka you and your ex had sworn you would never let each other back into each other's bed. it looks like you both lied.

karma is the girl on the screen coming straight home to me aka having to do interviews with your girlfriend comes with its own set of challenges. thankfully, you always have each other's back.

stars by the pocketful aka going to crappy award shows was never something you found enjoyable. lucky for you, your girlfriend takes it upon herself to change that.

my thoughts will echo your name aka you meet your biggest crush at a party and let her slip past your fingers. thankfully, your feelings aren’t as one-sided as you thought.

remind me i'm alive aka your day off takes a sudden turn when your best friend's sister decides to finally make a move after silently pining after you for far too long.

honeycomb aka you decide to let your kids help you bake a cake for your wife and cute chaos ensues.

shock to your system aka your move to new york isn't as panic-free as you would have hoped but thankfully, your girlfriend knows just what to do to help.

with friends like you, who needs friends? aka you had always said relationships weren't for you but a certain brunette seems hellbent on proving you wrong.

meet me there, i'll give you your roses aka just because you two are supposed to be keeping your relationship a secret doesn't mean you can't have some fun with it.

one step forward, three steps back aka when hailee tries to convince you to ride the publicity wave and appear in her new music video, you’re forced to accept the truth of your feelings for her.

deep blue, you painted me golden aka the ups and downs that come with secretly dating under the watchful eye of the media prove to be too much for you and hailee...so you decide to come up with a solution yourselves instead of giving in to the chaos.

keep on coming back for more aka you don't really like surprises...unless they involve a certain brunette and your favorite song.

get her back! aka you and hailee try to get your relationship back on track while shooting the sunkissing music video. it’s easier said than done though, especially since the line between love and hate blurs more and more every day.

sinking deeper into you [SMUT] aka your girlfriend is the sweetest person you've ever met and yet you can't help but try to get her out of her shell for a night.

the sweetest torture one could bear aka when you and hailee are flown out on vacation to promote your growing 'relationship', you find out there's more than meets the eye when it comes to the actress...and your feelings for her.

like words left unsaid aka hailee can't ever seem to keep her eyes off of you and you can't really complain about that.

my rotten mind and how much it worships you aka you and hailee slowly figure out your feelings for each other and start to do something about them instead of arguing.

you're my morning sun aka a look through your fondest memories featuring your wife and the chaos that comes with forming a family.

is it cool that i said all that? aka doing interviews with your girlfriend is all fun and games until someone gets too comfortable with their questions.

a kiss to every scar [SMUT] aka hailee sets out to show you the ropes of acting on a tv show...unfortunately, your very obvious crush on her distracts her enough to stop being so professional.

make every mistake aka you run into your ex at the vanity fair party, almost a full year after your breakup, and are forced to accept some hard truths.

i'm the powder, you're the fuse aka being hailee's body double doesn't shape up to be exactly what you planned...it turns out far better.

wanda maximoff

i touched you for only a fortnight aka after hearing that someone's been flirting with wanda, you start questioning your place in her life. luckily, your relationship is one of the main things she's secure in.

we were forever [SMUT] aka there's only one thing that can soothe your insecurites about your relationship with wanda: giving her pleasure no one else can.

(they long to be) close to you aka after months of pining after the lovely owner of westview's best cafe, you finally get a chance to get to know her better.

create a dream come true aka despite your growing connection to wanda, she starts pushing herself too hard and not telling you help. thankfully, you're too stubborn to let her go.

moondust in your hair aka after spending weeks looking for the perfect place for your first date, you take wanda out and give your relationship a label.

wanda maximoff + natasha romanoff

romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours [SMUT] aka your girlfriends set out to make your birthday as memorable as possible.

push me on the counter, call me princess [SMUT] aka you and wanda develop a connection you definitely shouldn't have with someone in a relationship. unbeknowst to you, it's all part of their plan.

losing focus [SMUT] aka as unexpected as it is, you become a permanent part of wanda and natasha's relationship.

brought you together so nice [SMUT] aka natasha takes care of you until wanda comes back. needless to say, the witch is more than happy about the arrangement you both came up with in her absence.

lilia calderu

redo the prophecy aka when demons from your past start chasing you again, you end up with the one person you can always count on...even if being with you puts her in danger.

carol danvers

bare your soul 'til it's naked [SMUT] aka you and carol experiment with switching up your usual roles and accidentally discover something new.

if forever will have me aka your girlfriend brings two stowaways on board after a rough mission, you welcome them with open arms while carol tries to adjust.

(you give me) guilty pleasure [SMUT] aka after another failed attempt at asking carol on a date, you decide to shift into her and get some much needed...release. unfortunately, carol doesn't know how to knock.

yelena belova

passive-aggressive magic tricks aka a fun game night with your friends takes a turn when they realize how much of a soft dork the russian turns into when she's around you.

miscellaneous

i'll keep it secret if you let me get a taste [SMUT; selfcest] aka an unfortunate run-in with a powerful coven gives kate a chance to satisfy certain curiosities about herself.

cross that line again [SMUT; selfcest] aka kate calls yelena for help fixing the mess she created. things don't exactly go to plan and the russian is forced to face some uncomfortable truths about her desires.

the good, the bad, and the dirty [kinktober special] aka kate might be young and inexperienced but she's a damn good negotiator. so, in search of a merger that will catapult bishop security to the top of the food chain, she shares her most prized possession with the other CEOs.

if you're weak, come to me [SMUT; wandanat] aka wanda gets injured during a mission and natasha is TOTALLY fine with that (not). they seek each other's comfort in the only way they know how.

sudden desire [SMUT; bishova] aka after yelena dissapears on an unknown mission for a month, kate decides to take things into her own hands and encourage her to come home. things don't go exactly as planned for her on the blonde's return.

OWN MY MIND [SMUT; wandanat] aka wanda's crush on natasha has grown to nearly unbearable levels. instead of pining after her, she decides to do something about it during a party.

is it casual now? [SMUT; wandanat] aka wanda gives in to her desire for natasha but runs away for fear of overstepping. natasha runs after her and shows her she has nothing to fear.

just gotta have it [wandanat] aka after their one night stand, wanda and natasha navigate what comes next in different ways. wanda isn’t a fan.

some kind of magic [SMUT; wandanat; selfcest] aka after natasha runs away from her again, wanda comes up with an unconventional plan to get her to admit the truth about her feelings.

[tothisfeeling]

obviously no rush or anything but i have a future jj x fem!reader fic in mind for you…..

basically reader having lunch with emily at jj’s and r’s apartment, and they both start talking about their sex lives.

r says how much fun jj was when they first met and moved in together, which leads emily to ask “what about now?”

r gets all flustered and explains that jj kind of got vanilla and a little boring. also saying she had to fake a couple orgasms….

jj comes home and overhears, so she takes r to the bedroom and RAILS her over and over again

just an idea:)

Stuck In a Rut

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Word count: 6.4k+

Genre: Smut

Summary: Since moving in with JJ, things have kind of slowed down. It’s not that you’re not still in love, you’re head over heels for her. It’s that one certain aspect has gotten a bit… dull. What you really want is for JJ to stop being so soft with you at least for once, but how do you tell her that?

Warnings: degradation kink; name calling; over stimulation; strap-on (r receiving); biting; top!JJ, bottom!r; praise kink; dumbification; let me know if I forgot things

A/N: so this is a little different than the request. I didn’t get all the details because I just kind of ran with it but uhhhh hope you enjoy 🫣 and yaaaay 1k celebration!

To say things had gotten a little stale… seemed harsh, but it was the truth. You and JJ had moved in together about six months ago after a year of dating and then there was just a change, a lull. It wasn’t that you two weren’t in love, you both very much were. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy to be her girlfriend or she wasn’t happy to be yours, she showed you off any chance she got and you did the same. It wasn’t that you two weren’t compatible to live together either. Things felt comfortable and safe, more so than they ever had before. Everything seemed perfect, but there was just one thing that got, well, a little boring. And that was your sex life. 

You honestly couldn’t understand what happened. When you two didn’t live together things were still pretty exciting and any time you were with JJ in that way, it took your breath away. The shift happened about two months into living together. The first month, you two still had that excitement. JJ had insisted on fucking you on pretty much any and every surface possible. She said it would make the place “feel like home” and you happily went along with it. But then the second month came and things slowed down and kept slowing and slowing and slowing… until suddenly all that heat and excitement of JJ having you in a way that you wouldn’t want anyone else to just got a little lackluster. 

The worst part was, it wasn’t like your sex life actually stopped per se, it was just that it got, quite frankly, dull. JJ suddenly shifted from being an exciting lover who would leave you breathless after every encounter, to a soft and slow one. Not to say you didn’t enjoy that sometimes. Just not all the time. 

What you wondered was what even caused this shift in her? Was it all the domesticity that you two found yourself surrounded in now that you lived together? Part of you thought that was it. JJ had definitely gotten softer herself as your relationship with her progressed and you loved that about her. She was so guarded at first, but she really dropped those walls down the more you two fell in love. You just wished that maybe that softness didn’t have to be present all the time. 

Just thinking about that made you feel terrible too. JJ was truly the perfect partner in all other aspects and you genuinely were so happy. But you were also just a little bit on edge. You never thought you were someone who would get a little snappy just from having a dull sex life, but here you were. You could tell the shift in yourself, even if you tried so hard to hide it. It was just that after a handful of nights with JJ ended more than a little disappointing on your part, there was only so much frustration you could deny in yourself. What’s worse and made you feel quite a bit guilty was that you had to fake things. There was no way in hell you were going to tell JJ that she wasn’t doing it for you. You could see the conversation now and the hurt look she’d get. It was the worry that telling her she wasn’t getting you there would be interpreted as she wasn’t enough for you that kept you silent about your whole little predicament. Lucky for you, JJ didn’t seem to see through any of it and continued on to be the obliviously happy girlfriend you knew her to.

Unfortunately for you, while your girlfriend didn’t notice, her best friend somehow did. 

Emily was no stranger to you, even if she was originally JJ’s friend. One of the best parts about dating JJ was that, not only did the two of you click with each other, but you also clicked with each other’s friends. So, as you got to know JJ and fall in love with her, you simultaneously fell in love with JJ’s friend group as well and quickly got comfortable with the people she surrounded herself with. One such friend that you felt particularly safe and comfortable with was Emily. So when she showed up at the apartment you and JJ shared when JJ was out running errands for the day, it was no problem for you to invite Emily in anyways and spend some quality time with her.

In fact, Emily expected you to be there. She came bearing lunch for the three of you, wanting to just chat if you and JJ were free. You told her JJ was out, but she still gladly stayed and chatted with you. And you were honestly grateful for the company, despite how wound up you were from your current predicament with your girlfriend. 

The two of you spent all of your time that afternoon just chatting about your lives. While you might be more on edge than you usually are, you weren’t about to turn done some quality time with good company. There was a large chunk of your days spent alone since JJ’s job was so demanding. While you appreciated that JJ was out doing errands alone, because you didn’t feel like you had the patience for Saturday afternoon crowds, you still were always excited for any kind of company you could get. So, to have Emily over and bringing her positivity into your space was a refreshing surprise. 

When lunch was finished and the rest was packed up for when JJ returned you mentioned that you had a bit of random chores around the house to do that you had intended to get done before JJ got home. To your surprise, Emily eagerly offered to help and that’s how you found yourself standing next to her and folding laundry in your bedroom. 

The conversation kept up just as it did when you two were enjoying lunch, but somehow the topic jumped dramatically and you weren’t entirely sure when the shift even happened. You didn’t think of yourself as a particularly open person when it came to the topic of your romantic life, especially when the person you were discussing it with was your partner’s best friend, but here you were.

Emily’s question about it really caught you off guard. It was innocent enough; a simple “so how are things with you two?” that you answered with what you thought was an enthusiastic response. Except, Emily followed your answer with a very telling “but…” and, suddenly you looked at her like you were caught red handed.

“It’s okay,” Emily smiled at you as she delicately folded a random towel. “Whatever you say stays between the two of us. I can just tell that you’ve been a little on edge lately.”

How could she tell? You thought you were hiding it so well! If she noticed, does that mean JJ noticed? But then, JJ was the type to actually say something if she could see that something felt wrong and she hadn’t said anything to you at all yet. So, hopefully Emily was the only one to see through your “everything is perfect” kind of act. 

“It’s not that we’re not good,” you began, refusing to make eye contact with Emily. “It’s just that… Well… I’m not unhappy.”

“Of course not,” Emily reassured.

“And JJ is a loving partner who treats me well.”

“As JJ should,” Emily nods along. 

“But… there’s just something about living together that’s changed us.”

Emily stilled her hands and turned to look at you thoughtfully. Her smile was still there, soft and reassuring, but she had this little glint in her eye that told you she could see almost exactly what you were getting at. It was as if she just already knew.

“Sometimes, when people move in together they can get a little comfortable,” Emily explained. “That comfortable feeling can go a little too far with some couples. Some might say that their partners tend to forget the romantic aspect to their new life together.”

“It- It’s not that,” you shook your head hard. It wasn’t that JJ wasn’t romantic with you anymore. She would often come home with flowers or still surprise you with beautiful dates in very thoughtfully picked locations. During those times you’d still feel the romance and the love. If you were being honest, in all aspects of your relationship with JJ minus your little bedroom problem, you both were very much still in a little love bubble. A lot of couples lose their honeymoon phase around this time in your relationship, but you could proudly say that that rushing, gushy feeling you got when you were near JJ was still very much alive and well. But again, it was alive and well in every aspect, but one. And that one aspect was really starting to drag you down. “We’re comfortable, but it makes me happy. She’s still just as romantic as when we first met.”

“Mhm, so if it’s not that… And you’ve been on edge….” Emily nodded to herself. You eyed her nervously, wondering if the look she was currently wearing was one you might see if you saw her on the job. “Oh, it’s the sex!” 

Your eyes practically fell out of your head as she blurted out her epiphany. 

“Emily!” 

“It is, isn’t it?” Emily leaned towards you with a satisfied smirk. “Oh, it’s okay, we can talk about these things.” She waved her hand dismissively as she spoke. “Sometimes, it happens. Things get a little old. Have you tried telling JJ what you want?”

“Well…”

“That’s a no,” Emily answered for you. “You know JJ is crazy about you, right? If you told her you wanted to try something new, she would listen.”

“I- I mean, maybe.” You rubbed sheepishly at your arm, the laundry forgotten as  soon as Emily started to toe into this territory with you. “Jennifer, she can be… What’s the right word… prideful? That’s not quite it, but still, she’d take it very personally.”

“Well, she has to know you’re not enjoying yourself.”

You didn’t say anything at that, giving her just a tight lipped smile. Emily eyed you for a moment, scrutinizing why you seemed to look so guilty all of a sudden until realization filled her features.

“You’re faking it!” Emily pointed at you, flinging a hand towel across the room in the process. 

“Emily!” You gasped, your face turning different shades of red.

“What?” Emily shrugged. “We’re friends! Friends talk about these things!”

“Yes, but JJ is your friend first!”

“Okay…?” Emily’s eyebrow was arched as she stared at you, as if you weren’t making any sort of sense. She couldn’t deny that she was JJ’s friend first. There’s some loyalty there; some stuff you didn’t discuss with your partner’s best friend when it was about your partner herself. “I’m your friend too. Whatever is shared between us, stays between us.”

Emily’s eyes were earnest, but still you were way too hesitant to just spill your guts completely. Except, she kept staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to confirm her accusation. 

“So,” Emily started up again when you took too long to respond. “If you’re faking it, then JJ has no idea you’re in this little rut, does she?”

You bit your lip and shook your head sheepishly in response. “It’s– Well, it’s only been a few times,” you offered as if that made it sound any better. “That I, you know, faked it, I mean.”

“I see…” Emily trailed off, thinking to herself. “So, if you’re going to go about this, you need to do it gently.”

“And what is it exactly that I’m doing?”

“Telling JJ what you want.” She said that as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Obviously, if you’ve been stuck in this dilemma long enough for Emily to notice, it wasn’t all that simple. 

“Emily,” you warned. “It’s not that easy.”

“Why?” Emily’s question was genuine, not accusatory, and it had you thinking about why exactly it was so hard for you. You did have a very real fear that you’d embarrass and hurt JJ’s pride if you brought up this little problem, but was that all that it was? 

“I’m not sure,” you sighed. “It just is.”

“Because you’re nervous?” Emily’s question finally connected the dots. It wasn’t just that you were worried about hurting JJ by revealing that you’d been bored with your sex life, it was that you were also too shy to ask for more. “You shouldn’t be. This problem won’t be fixed until you tell her what you want, you know.” 

“It’s- Emily, it’s kind of hard for me to just come out and say all of that to her!” Look at the horrible job you were doing right now just talking about it vaguely with Emily. Your face was so flushed you could imagine that you looked a bit like a tomato at this point. Emily didn’t seem phased by any of this, but your palms were sweating and your stomach was churning and you felt so shy and embarrassed. This wasn’t something you were used to talking about with anyone, let alone a friend of your partner’s. “What would I even say to her?”

“What you’re telling me,” Emily suggested. “Whatever it is that you want, I’m sure when you get it out in the open, JJ will at least consider it. She wants to make you happy and if you’re not happy, eventually she’ll figure it out and she won’t be happy either.”

“You’re right,” you nodded in agreement. “I know you’re right. It’s just hard to find the right words.”

“Well, without much detail, what do you want?”

“Just more…” you were struggling to find the right words. “Fire? Passion? I’m not really sure. It just feels like some of the passion is gone. She’s so gentle that it’s boring. I know it’s her way of showing me that she loves and cherishes me, but I want more. I want something new, something with that… that rushing feeling we used to get.” 

Emily nodded in understanding of everything you were saying. She gave you some more encouraging words on trying to bring it up with JJ, but soon the conversation went back to normal things and wondering what was taking JJ so long. Neither of you heard the front door open fifteen minutes earlier and the soft footsteps that lead to where you and Emily shared your heart-to-heart. 

It wasn’t until you heard some clanging in the kitchen that you realized JJ was home. Luckily for you, by the time you were aware that she was home your conversation with Emily had turned back to normal things. A small part of you was worried JJ was home much earlier than you realized and could possibly have heard everything, but you shook that fear off, knowing JJ would announce her presence as soon as she arrived like she usually did.

But, for whatever reason, this time JJ didn’t. This time, unbeknownst to you, she heard it all and neither you nor Emily realized it. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emily spent a few more hours with the two of you now that JJ was home too. Everything was pleasant and JJ seemed to be happy to see her friend on her day off, but there was something you couldn’t quite place. JJ was just slightly more quiet than usual. 

With you and JJ, the two of you were so in sync that you knew immediately whenever she was upset or in a bad mood. Tonight, that wasn’t what it was. It was as if she was captivated by her own thoughts. Not upset, not sad or angry, just pondering. But whatever thought she was so engrossed in, you didn’t know. 

Emily left before dinner and that quiet pondering continued throughout the evening. It was odd behavior for JJ, but honestly the silence between the two of you as you ate wasn’t all that negative. You were also busy mulling things over in your mind. The idea of approaching JJ with a few requests to try some new things was worrying you, but you knew it needed to be said. 

When dinner was over and you were cleaning up, you were even more lost in your own little world. The conversation you had with Emily from that afternoon was still going through your head. How were you going to talk to JJ about this without hurting her pride? Was that even possible at this point? If you were going to be totally honest about what you wanted then you’d have to tell her how long you’ve been faking things with her and that would surely not sit well with her. 

Part of you was also nervous to bring anything up and have it all blow up in the end. Would JJ even be willing to change things up with you or would it stay the same? If it stays the same, then what then? If the spark in the bedroom is going out, what does that mean for the spark in your relationship overall? There were just too many questions running through your mind.

The constant thought process of how to break the news to JJ and start the conversation was consuming all of your attention. Your hands and feet were on autopilot as you continued to clean up the kitchen. So, when JJ slowly snuck up to you with your back turned away from the kitchen entrance, you were totally unaware of her presence. That is until she was suddenly directly behind you, pushing the front of your body right up against the counter. 

“JJ, what the hell?!” Her sudden move had forced you to drop everything in your hands. Lucky for you, it was just some plastic tupperware and nothing sharp or breakable.

“Shhh,” JJ whispered in your ear. “Spread your legs.” JJ’s hands were on your waist as soon as she had you pinned. You were honestly so confused by this sudden turn of events that you didn’t register what JJ was asking of you. 

That must have been very apparent to JJ, because after a moment of you standing utterly still, she did it for you. Her legs went in between yours, kicking both your legs open until you were bracing even tighter onto the counter to keep yourself standing. JJ’s body pressed even harder into yours from behind and you suddenly realized you felt something very curious pressing into you from behind. 

“JJ, what are you-” You stopped when your mind finally connected what you were feeling as JJ started to grind her hips into your ass. You knew exactly what was going on now. 

JJ had you figured out. You weren’t sure how or when, but you knew that she knew. 

“Stop asking questions,” JJ bent forward to whisper in your ear. “And do what you’re told.”

“I-I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” you stammered as JJ kept pressing herself into the back of your body. “JJ, this is–”

“New?” She cut you off. “You wanted something new, didn’t you? That’s what I’m about to give you.”

Your body stiffened as JJ spoke. So, she did know. That little fear in the back of your head that told you JJ was home a lot earlier than you realized was right. The question was, how much did she hear? Did she know about you faking a few times or just that you wanted to change things up in the bedroom. God, you hoped she didn’t hear the part about you faking it…

“You didn’t answer me,” JJ’s voice came from behind you. “Am I wrong? You want a change, right?”

“I– Well, no you’re not wrong, but–” JJ’s lips pressing right at the pulse point of your neck before sinking her teeth down into the flesh there is what cut you off, even if you were already struggling to form a sentence. Your hands went to grip the counter at the burst of pleasurable pain that she just caused while you were mid-sentence.

“I’m going to give you something new, princess,” she practically purred against your skin. “I’m going to give you exactly what you want. You’re going to cum for me over and over again like a good girl, until I feel like you’ve had enough. And you definitely won’t need to fake them.” The low tone JJ’s voice took with her last words had you both shocked that she did in fact here and shiver at how almost threatening she sounded.

While you were preoccupied with this shift in her, JJ was already busy getting to work with her plan. You felt her hands reach around to your pants, giving them a hard yank before letting them fall in a puddle on the floor. You were already breathing harder than you probably should, your head twisting and turning to try and look back behind you at what JJ was up to. 

This new change in her had startled you and a large part of you was incredibly ashamed that she had heard you spill your guts to Emily. It should’ve been you directly telling her that you wanted something new, but unfortunately she heard everything she wasn’t meant to. Even so, there was another part of you that was absolutely way too excited for what was to come.

As for JJ, when she heard the little conversation between you and Emily, she did feel a little guilty that she was listening to something she wasn’t meant to. However, she wasn’t upset with any of what she heard, she was glad she did listen in even. Because, it wasn’t just you that felt like there needed to be a change. While JJ was definitely unaware of the past instances when you faked your orgasms, and that did sting a bit, she spent the rest of the evening plotting out a way to fix this. See, she had wanted to change things up for a while; let loose a little. She also was worried about ever being too rough with you, but sometimes she got into these moods where all she wanted to do was ruin you. When those moods came, she suppressed it and overcorrected. She knew now that she overcorrected way too much, but tonight it was time to lean into that mood. 

So, as JJ continued to put her plan into motion, she was getting a little ahead of herself with how much anticipation she had. When she heard the conversation, it was like a door had opened to so many new possibilities of what she could try with you. Once she settled on what to do first, she waited until you least expected for her to pounce.

Now here you were with JJ’s body keeping you trapped between her own and the kitchen counter, half naked from the waist down. “Stay there,” JJ ordered before taking a small step back. Surprisingly, you did as you were told without having to question it anymore. JJ admired you for a second; loving the way you looked bent over the counter, bare ass sticking out for her. She gave it a smack and you jumped, but didn’t complain. 

From behind you, you could hear JJ slowly pull the zipper to her jeans down. You knew exactly what was coming next and you bit your lip in anticipation. It was almost embarrassing how wet you were, just from a little bit of roughness from JJ. But then again, she was never rough with you like this. It was this exact behavior that you wanted so badly to see from her. 

JJ stepped back up to you, her hands reaching between the two of you to cup your ass. You let out the smallest gasp when she squeezed, already more excited than you’d been in weeks. From behind you, you could hear JJ let out a small, smug chuckle in response before sliding two of her fingers through your folds. This time, the gasp wasn’t as quiet. 

She ran her fingers through you a couple times, gathering your wetness onto them and causing you to shift and squirm even more. You wanted more of her touch, but as quickly as she started, she pulled her fingers away.

With her fingers coated in you, she reached down to her little surprise she had waiting for you. Little was a bit of an understatement, she thought as she ran your wetness over the dildo she had attached between her legs. It was going to be an interesting sight to see you take it. You two had used toys before, but not like this. Not something that, JJ knew for a fact, was bigger than anything you’ve taken. She was excited to see how good you could be for her. In the past she treated you so carefully, but tonight she was determined to fuck you to the brink of breaking. 

“Do me a favor,” JJ leaned her body against yours from behind. You felt what you already knew was a quite large strap on, poking between your thighs. “Be a good girl tonight and take what I give you.” 

You nodded your head fervently, biting your lip harder when one of JJ’s hands moved around your body to slip under your shirt and paw at your chest. JJ took a moment, kissing on the back of your neck and running one hand over the top of your body, while the other squeezed at your thighs. She loved the way you were already wriggling in anticipation for what she had in store and just wanted to savor this moment before she really dug in. 

Your chest was heaving already and your head was bent down as you made cute little sounds JJ loved to hear. Your hands were splayed on the counter, trying to keep yourself upright while JJ practically groped your entire body. The way you were already struggling to keep it together had JJ just that much more excited to see you utterly fall apart. So she got started.

One hand left your body while the other moved down to steady your hips. The hand that wasn’t on you, moved between her own legs. She wrapped her hand around the toy, running over it once more to make sure it still felt lubricated enough from your own wetness. Once she deemed it ready, she lined up. 

You held your breath, trying your best to brace yourself on the counter as you felt JJ’s faux cock start to line up with your entrance. This thing was big, you didn’t need to see it to know it wasn’t something you were used to. There was still an exciting anticipation coursing through your veins, but you also anxiously hoped that JJ would go a little easy on you. Just for a few minutes, at least. 

JJ’s hips started to push forward and you immediately felt the tip of the toy begin to stretch your walls. Your eyes squeezed tight as she slowly pushed her cock all the way inside of you until she had bottomed out. 

Your head dipped even lower, your mouth hanging open again as you tried to adjust to this new feeling. It was painful, you couldn’t deny that. Your pussy was stretched more than you’ve ever felt. But still, you needed JJ to move her hips, to do something. You tried your best to push your hips back into JJ to meet hers more closely, if that was even possible. She immediately got the hint.

Pulling out slowly and almost completely, JJ paused. “You’re not going to fake these,” JJ’s voice was practically a growl. “Got it?” And with that she slammed the toy back into you with such strength that the guttural moan you let out shocked the both of you. 

JJ’s hands were back on your hips now as she pulled out and mirrored that exact same action. You were trying as best as you could to keep some sort of restraint as she fucked you from behind, but it was a losing game when the pleasurable burn of her stretching you out had your head swimming. Meanwhile, JJ was setting a steady pace. Not too fast, but with each pump of her cock inside you, she put a little more strength into it.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” JJ groaned as she kept moving. You felt her nails dig into your bare hips as she went. It was like she was trying to restrain herself, to keep her own pace consistent, when you thought that, potentially, she wanted to go faster, maybe even be a little rougher.

And that was exactly it, but JJ needed you to ease into this at least a little bit first. She was testing the waters with you, seeing how much she could push it. While she wasn’t necessarily being gentle, she was still trying to have some sense of control. Only, that was slipping so fast with the sounds you were making and the way she could just hear how wet you were. 

It was sounds like these that she hadn’t heard in a while and didn’t realize she missed so much. So when her pace increased and you couldn’t help but to whine and cry out her name as she fucked you, her control slipped even further. 

She could tell you were close too. The way she had your pussy stretched out mixed with how rough she was being had you approaching that edge finally. This time, it would all be completely real and as your legs began to tremble, JJ increased her pace and encouraged you to cum.

When you finally did, she slowed for a second. The both of you needed to catch your breath; you from the powerful orgasm and her so that she could prepare for what was to come. The pathetic little moan you let out when you did cum had broken something loose in JJ’s brain, something that she had really tried to hold back with you, but now she wasn’t going to. So she’d let you catch your breath, take a moment to appreciate the way you looked right now, and then continue.

JJ’s hands rubbed at your back for a second. “That’s my girl,” she cooed, leaning back to get a better look at you. She was still inside you, but you were slumped a little further onto the counter, cum dripping down your thighs as you came down from your high. “We’re not done though.” 

And with that she set a new pace that had you scrambling for purchase on the counter again. The way she was fucking you, it was like she was trying to fuck up into you until you were completely sprawled out on the counter. Your body had gotten used to the stretch, but your pussy definitely wasn’t used to this kind of brutal treatment. Your legs were shaking harder than they were when she made you cum the first time and you were seriously questioning your balance at this point.

It didn’t seem to bother JJ though, if she was aware of it that is. All she was focused on was the satisfying slap of her skin against your ass as she fucked you so hard you swore you saw stars. 

“J- fuck— JJ I don’t think…” you couldn’t get the words out no matter how hard you were trying. The relentless way JJ kept pounding her cock into you was making it impossible for you to do just about anything other than moan. “I don’t think I can keep standing.” 

You felt JJ’s hands flex, as her grip on you grew tighter. She didn’t stop, despite your warning, she didn’t even slow down. Her hips kept pumping into you from behind, each time pushing you painfully harder into the counter. Your head was hunched down, your hands were struggling to grip at anything on the counter. Pretty soon you’d be slipping until you were face down on the countertop if JJ kept this up. 

“I don’t fucking care,” JJ growled. With those words, it was like she knew exactly what your worry was and she made it happen. Without warning, one hand that was on your waist moved to the top of your head, pushing your head down til your cheek was pressed against the cold countertop. This new position forced you to jut your ass out even more, giving JJ an even better angle to fuck her cock into you deeper. 

Her hand remained on the top of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. Tears pricked in your eyes at the brutal way she was fucking your pussy. Your body was practically quaking underneath her and you could feel another orgasm coming in strong. 

As rough as she was being, you were enjoying every minute of it. JJ was practically manhandling you, using you as nothing more than her toy to fuck, but you didn’t even mind. It’s what you wanted all along and you didn’t even know it. 

JJ pulled your hair to jerk your head up. As she did, her hips still flush with your ass as she pushed her cock into you, she lent forward on top of you. “You love this, don’t you?” JJ taunted as your walls tightened around her cock. “Letting me fuck you right here on the counter like a little whore. You fucking love it.” 

You had never heard her talk this way and your eyes squeezed shut as your next orgasm started to rip throughout your body. 

“Say it.” JJ tugged on your hair. “Say you love it.” 

“I- I-“ you couldn’t form words when you were falling over the edge on JJ’s cock again. “I love… god- I fucking love it. Fuck, JJ just keep— keep fucking me.” 

JJ let out a triumphant chuckle before releasing your hair and wrapping her hand back around your waist. With her hold on you, she moved your own body onto her cock while she kept pumping it into you. The continued abuse of your pussy, mixed with the sheer strength of JJ’s movements had you coming a third time before you even knew it. You hadn’t even come down from your second orgasm before she had you moaning and screaming her name into a third one. 

What definitely shocked you was the way JJ kept going even after that. It was like there was no end to the strength and stamina she possessed. She didn’t slow, not even after she had pushed you to a third orgasm without a pause. No, she was determined for a fourth.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, you were suddenly too aware of your nerve-endings and as she kept fucking you, the harsh way she was treating your pussy as she pumped her cock into you with abandon was starting to hurt. Yet, it all still felt incredible. The pain of your body being pushed to the brink mixed with the pleasure she was giving you was better than the last three orgasms she coaxed out of you combined. 

“God, why didn’t I do this sooner?” JJ grunted as she kept up her pace. “I was hoping you’d be able to take it if I let go a little, but this… You’re just taking me so fucking good.”

You couldn’t even speak at this point, all you could do was let out a gurgled hum of some sort of agreement as JJ’s grip tightened that much more on you so she could keep up with what she was doing. At this point, you were fairly certain that there were marks where her nails were digging into you, but that little bit of pain added to it that much more. Tears were definitely staining your cheeks from the sheer intensity of it all too. You were sure, if you looked at yourself in the mirror, you’d be shocked by what you saw. 

The fact that you could cum again so quickly and for the fourth time in such a short period was shocking you, but when you came again for her, you came with a silent cry as your body shuddered around her cock. 

This time, you couldn’t keep yourself upright, fully slumping onto the counter. JJ finally slowed down, her hands coming up to keep you upright and prevent you from landing on your ass.

After a moment of being still, but remaining inside you, she finally pulled out and your body shook for a second at the loss. You still hadn’t caught your breath, but JJ was patient, running her hand over your back and cooing at you as you gulped down much needed air. 

When your chest stopped heaving and your body trembled a little bit less, JJ turned you in her arms. Still, she had a tight hold on you to prevent you from slumping all the way down and onto the kitchen floor and you were appreciative of the support. 

“Hi,” JJ murmured as her arms squeezed you into her chest. 

“H-hi,” you panted, burying your head into the crook of her neck. 

“Was that too much?” JJ’s voice was soft and hesitant. You still weren’t quite recovered enough to form coherent sentences so you just shook your head as best you could while still pressed into JJ. 

“Good,” she mumbled before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Was that… more like what you wanted?”

You willed yourself to look up at her this time, knowing this required a proper response. “Yes, but JJ I’m sorry. I should’ve told you first.”

“It’s okay, my love,” JJ smiled down at you. “I understand. I’m sorry things got a little… monotonous. I’ve wanted to try something a little new with you for a while, I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s not your fault.” You leaned up to kiss JJ’s lips softly this time. “But I’m not as fragile as you think. You won’t break me, so… can we do this again?”

“Oh, definitely,” JJ gave you a cheeky grin. “In about ten minutes actually.”

“What?!” Your eyes went comically wide as JJ started to practically push you towards the bedroom. 

“There’s more I want to try.” 

You gulped, but willingly let her lead you to the bedroom. That night you both learned the limits your body could go to and over the next few weeks you were introduced to more experiences you hadn’t even realized you were into until JJ presented them to you. It was like a whole new side to your relationship had opened up and it definitely fixed the rut. 

Taglist: @storiesofsvu @demonicbaby666 @geekyandgay98 @desperate-gay @high--power @finleyfray @natashamaximoff69 Join the taglist here

[tothisfeeling]

so I am obsessed with your jj x readers fics, esp the top!jj and jealous!jj ones. so I have a request (if you take requests).

jj had Henry but she and Will didn't end up together because Will wasn't willing to sacrifice his career and neither was JJ but they used to spend a lot of time together for Henry. Fem!reader started working for the BAU when Henry is five, and JJ and Reader started sneaking around together. JJ is possessive of reader but they're both closeted, even though reader is now willing to go public. but then Will returned, wanting to be a family for Henry's sake and JJ agrees to give it a shot, breaking reader's heart. A month or so later, the BAU returned from a gruelling case and go to a bar to wind down. JJ and Reader haven't really spoken since things ended except for work purposes. But when JJ sees a guy flirt with and kiss reader at the bar, she grabs reader and takes her to the bathroom and becomes possessive....After, reader asks JJ what she wants because jj's behaviour is confusing and JJ says "You" (thank you)

Breaking Point

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Words: 11.7k+

Summary: JJ fell for you hard, but she wasn't good with feelings and she liked having control. Only problem was, she lost all of it any time you were around. Now, Will is trying to push her to restart a relationship and all she can do is push you away to handle all these complicated feelings.

Warning: rough sex, overstimulation, possessive sex, possessive!JJ, little bit of toxic!JJ, dubiously consensual kissing, double sided strap-on, multiple orgasms, vibrator, bottom!r, top!JJ, alcohol mention, biting... I think that about covers it.

A/N: I took a break but now we're so back and it feels good to be back. Hope y'all enjoy a JJ fic!!

(gif not mine, credit to luthqrs)

She had fallen first. You always joked that it was you who did and you were just waiting for her to stop being so wrapped up in her own head, but no. If only you knew how mistaken you were.

She most certainly had fallen first, and dare she say, she had also fallen harder. Not that any of that seems apparent to you now, or ever will at this point, if JJ were being honest with herself. But she would go to her grave denying any claim that you were the one to fall first or to love her harder.

See, she fell for you the moment she saw you. She might be practical, she might be calculated and calm and she prided herself in always weighing the risks versus the reward. JJ built her life around assessing every situation and making sure every single action she took, every choice she made, made sense for her future. But then her eyes fell upon you and all of that went out the window.

She replays that first day you came to the BAU in her head more times  than she could care to count. That day she met you, you were just starting as part of the team. She heard your laugh from the halls before she even saw your face. The feeling of your laugh ringing through her ears, washing over her entire being, she won’t ever forget. She didn’t understand why she felt the way that she did then, not until her eyes finally met yours, but that was hours later. 

Somehow, the two of you managed to miss properly introducing each other for most of that first day. You were off getting familiar with the BAU, catching up on who’s who and where’s what. She was wrapped up in a case close to home that seemed like it was all dead ends. It wasn’t until the end of that work day did she finally run into you. Literally.

With her hands full of files and her eyes glued to the words written in them, she kept walking until she smacked right into you. To her own defense, you were looking everywhere but up, trying to find the right room number to finally meet the elusive JJ in the first place. Neither of you were looking forward until your bodies collided and her papers started flying everywhere.

JJ was immediately mortified and frustrated and for a moment there was utter silence as you both looked down at the mess of papers around you. But then you looked up and laughed. It caught her off guard again, but she didn’t know why. Maybe it was that the feeling washed over her again. A feeling she rarely feels these days with her line of work. A feeling that something pure and happy was in her presence. It’s that sort of feeling that rubs off on people, but rarely does it grace the BAU halls. And then she looked up.

Your eyes sparkled as you laughed. “Well, that’s one way to make an introduction I guess,” you said to her between giggles. Without even knowing it, she was smiling back at you. She thought to ask if you were okay, but words were hard to get out. 

You scooped up all her papers and she just stood there, eyes wide, as you placed them back in her hands. When you told her your name and that it was nice to meet her, finally she found her voice again and said the same. 

The meeting might have been ordinary to you, but to her it was the first time in a long time that the world felt lighter. It was the moment that you walked out the door from your first day with the BAU that JJ swore to herself to make sure you never lost that light. This job could be monstrous, but you weren’t a field agent. She could shield you, she could protect you.

It was in that small moment that JJ fell in love, even if it took her weeks to realize what that feeling was. The need to protect you grew as she watched you wince from across the room each time new crime scene photos were presented for each new case. She remembered being like you, she literally was you. Now you’re the new communications liaison and you still had the same sick feeling she used to get when the horrors of the world were being highlighted page after page on the table in front of you. 

—----------------------------

It was only a few short months before the feelings JJ had for you boiled over. She’d like to say she was good at hiding them, and to an extent, she was, but she unfortunately had a breaking point. What she really regretted was how that breaking point came about and what actions it resulted in.

In JJ’s best efforts to shield you from a job that, in all reality, was impossible for someone to be shielded from at least some horrors, JJ had also somehow convinced you and a lot of people around you that she hated you. She would urge for you to not be put on certain cases, but that would come in the form of her– unintentionally –making it sound like you were not qualified or skilled enough to handle those cases. JJ didn’t think that in the slightest, though. She really thought you were better at the job of being a liaison than she ever was. But she also knew the path she took from being a liaison, to finding herself in danger in the field and not as prepared as she should’ve been at times. She couldn’t handle you following that same path, so she did what she could. 

The rumors that she hated you were also not helped by the fact that she absolutely froze up any time you tried to talk to her. She had no idea what this magnetic pull was that she felt any time you were near. She thought about you when you were around and even more when you weren’t. JJ knew she should’ve actually tried to have more conversations with you, squash the rumors that she hated you finally, but any time she tried to get closer to you the pull got stronger. And then by the time you did approach her, her mind was so wrapped up in the feeling that she just couldn’t think to get any words out. Everything about you confused her. 

What made matters worse, however, was that JJ found herself always near you even when it wasn’t by her own choice. In the office, she was always nearby to make sure you didn’t walk into a wall, since you had this annoyingly charming habit of reading files and walking at the same time. Or, JJ always noticed you had a knack for getting up any time the jet had turbulence and she would often shoot up and catch you before you fell. Anytime that happened, JJ would feel like her skin was on fire wherever your delicate hands would steady themselves on her strong arms. It always made her stomach twist in a way that felt similar to when she used to have a fear of flying, only the feeling would stick with her when they landed and then hours after. 

While JJ savored these moments without really knowing why, it came across quite differently for you. JJ’s eyes would always harden anytime she stepped back once you regained your footing and she wouldn’t stop staring at you. To everyone around the both of you, it looked like she was glaring. In reality, JJ was just trying to figure it all out. But as more and more time went by, she was starting to piece everything together.

Feelings weren’t something JJ was good at, but she couldn’t deny that they were building within her. She had decided maybe she should ignore them. If she stuffed them down long enough she could either get used to living with the feeling or they’d go away. At least that’s what she told herself, but then there was a day that your time overlapped with that one intern… The one with the rich dad and the shit eating grin. 

JJ was in the absolute worst mood and he was just making it worse. He usually flirted with the other interns and she didn’t care about that but today, she guessed he was going for a different target. And any time JJ heard his obnoxious voice flow through the halls, calling your name for you to slow down so he could catch up, asking you a useless question, it just made things worse. She snapped three pencils that day and it wasn’t even noon yet then. 

When he finally came to her office to ask if she needed anything, she thought asking him for a big coffee order for the office, but for specific coffee across town would solve her problems at least temporarily. She just wanted him away from you; he kept getting too fucking close. And she told herself this wasn’t about jealousy, it wasn’t because she wanted you and couldn’t have you, it was because he was going through interns like they were nothing and she didn’t want to see him treat you like that too. Except, her plan to get you away from him backfired in the worst possible way. 

She didn’t think he would have the guts to ask you to join him in assisting, and she didn’t think you would use your lunch break to assist. But of course you did, because you’re kind and he played it up, acting like he could use all the help he could get. That just soured JJ’s mood even more.

It took over an hour for you to return with that guy too and the whole time JJ kept picturing the worst. How he might be driving with his hand on your thigh, when it should be hers. How he could be making you laugh and smile when JJ just wants to be the reason you do that just once more for her. How he could be asking you on a date and she wouldn’t be there to somehow interject and make sure that never happens in a million years.

She wouldn’t ever know if her first two worries happened to have come true, but to her utter horror the last one did. As he brought back the coffee, handing it out to all the team, he turned and gave you that same scheming grin and said the words that JJ absolutely did not want to here. “So, that’s a yes for Friday night?” 

It wasn’t said to the room, obviously. It was said to you as you stood next to him and sorted out the pastry orders for the rest of the team. You just looked back at him and gave him a small smile and a brief nod. You didn’t have to say anything for JJ to know her worst nightmare was confirmed, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from asking her own question as she stood in front of you and waited for the items she requested. 

“What’s friday?” It sounded just as angry as JJ felt. But what didn’t help the situation was the way you flinched at her tone and how your eyes widened in fear. 

“Oh– uh…” you stuttered, your eyes still looking at JJ with shock and confusion. “We’re just going for drinks, no big deal.” 

Why did JJ feel her stomach drop at the way your eyes moved from hers to then look down at the floor? JJ winced at her own actions, but it was like something else took over for her as your words began to sink in. “Can I see you in my office, (Y/N)?” Suddenly, she was on autopilot as the idea of you going out at night with him washed over her like molten lava. “Alone.” 

She caught the look you gave the intern and the look he gave back, and JJ’s rampant jealousy flared, but to her relief you just nodded.

She didn’t wait for you to start moving before she turned on her heel and started striding to her office. When JJ reached the office she held the door for you and you walked in on shaky legs. She would’ve felt guilty at how nervous she was making you, but right now she could care less. She needed to squash these plans, no matter what. She had no idea how, but right now logic was out the window. 

“Listen, I know that dating is frowned upon in the office but it’s not a–”

“You’re right,” JJ cut you off mid sentence, closing the door behind you with a slam. “So why are you announcing to the whole office that you intend to do it anyways?”

“L-look I’m sorry,” you were panicking as you looked back at JJ, still standing between you and the door with her arms crossed. “But it’s not a date. We’re going out for drinks. That is all, nothing the team doesn’t do regularly.”

“It’s completely different,” JJ snapped back. 

“How so?” You were just confused if you were being honest. Not mad at the reaction of your colleague, but utterly lost to why it seemed like JJ was so angry from this that she was visibly shaking.

“Because he wants to sleep with you!” JJ knew she was breaking some sort of rules with HR with that outburst but she could care less. Her nails were digging into her own arms as she stood, fuming in front of you.

“That–” You honestly couldn’t think of a comeback. You were so shocked by her outburst that your mind was racing too fast for you to keep up. “Why do you care?” It was all you could manage to ask. 

“Why do you want to?” JJ really needed to stop at this point, but her blood was boiling and her skin was on fire and she kept taking steps until she was in your personal space and had backed you up against her own desk.

“It’s not against the rules, it’s just frowned upon, but I won’t lose my job for it. I’m allowed to get a drink with him.” You were trying to rationalize something that you didn’t even want to do. It was just drinks, and he was nice, you didn’t want to date him you just wanted to have a good time with someone for a few hours until you had to go home to an empty apartment, was that so wrong? 

“It’s not okay.” JJ was breathing hard and she was standing so close to you that you could practically feel her body against yours.

“Why?” You were getting frustrated. Your brain was working fast, trying to figure out what the hell was going on here.

The simple “why” was something JJ couldn’t answer. She didn’t have an angry remark, she didn’t have anything smart to say. Her heart was beating so fast she could hear it pounding in her ears and all she could manage was a frustrated, “It just fucking isn’t!”

“Does this have to do with the team or is this just your problem, JJ?” You were finally pushing back, but you still remained still. The confusion was irritating and her bad attitude was starting to rub off on you. The way her adrenaline was pumping, her aggressive reaction, it was all seeping into you and suddenly your scared demeanor flipped. “You’ve had a problem with me since day one! What is it? You’re trying to push me out right? I can’t even make friends with the intern, is that it? If you want me out of this team so badly, I can just go because obviously this isn’t working out! Not when every single little thing I do pisses you off so badly. I don’t know what I even did you, but I’ve had it with–”

And just like that JJ snapped. All control went out the window. You were mid angry rant but the thought of you leaving the BAU scared her just as much and her resolve crumbled. 

Her lips smashed against yours with such a force that you had to brace yourself on her desk until your knuckles turned white. Her kiss was brutal, it was angry, it was passionate and the way she had finally released her own arms to grip your chin had you grunt against her lips. Your eyes were wide for a moment as her lips pressed harder against yours, moving in a way so yours parted enough for her tongue to graze yours. And when it did you couldn’t help the way your eyes slipped shut and a slight shiver ran through your body. One of her hands was still gripping your chin tight, but the other had snaked its way down and around your waist so you didn’t have to steady yourself so hard on her desk. This also meant her full body was pressed up against yours and you were surprised by how much heat you felt as she leaned into you. You were also surprised by how much your own body melted into hers as she let out a groan against your own lips. It wasn’t until you heard that groan that you realized, you had been kissing her back. You had maybe resisted for a moment, but at some point your hands weren’t on the desk but in her hair, your lips had parted more, and you had let her tongue run against yours in a hungry frenzy. 

But then reality sunk in for a moment and, since you no longer needed the support to stay up right since you were now seated on her desk, you removed your hands from her hair and moved them to her chest to shoved hard. Surprisingly hard for someone who had maybe a fraction of JJ’s strength.

She stumbled back, her eyes wide and her lips red and wet from the force and messiness of the kiss she didn’t mean to give. There was a pause, a silence that hung over the room as you both just stared at each other. 

JJ was trying to think of excuses, of reasons for why the hell she would force herself on you like that. She was so angry she didn’t think and now she was angry at herself for doing something so out of character.

But then you took a deep breath and JJ’s eyes flew from the floor back up to meet your own. “So…” you cleared your throat as you struggled to find the words you wanted to use. “I guess that explains some things.” 

And then you laughed, a real, genuine laugh, and JJ’s whole body relaxed. 

—----------------------------------------------------------

Obviously, you did not go out for drinks with the intern. Instead, you and JJ had a talk and JJ had essentially poured her guts out to you and you had told her that you felt the same exact pull she was feeling. The only difference was, you actually knew how to handle your feelings, but with how JJ had been acting, you had convinced yourself that it was very much one sided. 

Clearly it wasn’t, and after that moment in the office you had decided to try to follow your feelings with her, albeit slowly and without announcing it to the team for at least a good while. Keeping it a secret from the team was working out well, but the taking things slow part went out the window basically the same night as your first kiss. 

JJ had the idea of talking alone, just the two of you at her place. That very quickly ended in her taking you right then and there on her couch for the first time. You should’ve been embarrassed you couldn’t even make it to her bed, but the way she kissed you like she was trying to savor every single inch of you, you never stood a chance at resisting her. 

After that, well, the two of you were goners. Sneaking office kisses– and sometimes even more… whenever you’d get the chance. She insisted on being secretive and careful for numerous reasons, and you were okay with that as long as it meant JJ was all yours. 

After six months of sneaking around had gone by, you did, however, reveal your secret to her child. It was entirely by accident and all due to the ex of hers that you never liked, nor trusted. 

You both had been in bed, wrapped around each other the way you both would every single night since you exchanged “I love yous” three months prior. This time, luckily, you were both clothed. Both of you were tired from a case and just wanted to fall asleep in the safety of each other’s arms. 

But then, early in the morning, an excited blonde head peaked through the door and that peaceful sleep you were once in was rudely awakened. It felt like someone drenched you in frigid water, the way JJ’s eyes snapped open and met yours in terror before snapping to the child bounding for the bed. 

She jumped up with record speed and met him before he could jump in. “Henry, h-hi buddy. What are you doing here? Where’s your dad?”

Before she could even answer she heard his voice call from further in the house. “Hey, we just let ourselves in!” You really hated that he had his own key, but knew as they were co-parents it was necessary. Plus, that’s not what was on your mind right now. Now, you were also standing out of bed and just looking around the room helplessly as if hiding would solve anything. 

“Mommy, you had a sleepover?” His innocent question felt like a shot to the heart. You both froze. JJ had a forced smile on her face that she directed toward her son but you couldn’t bring yourself to fix your expression. It was one of utter shock and horror. 

You had met Henry, even spent plenty of time with him in the last six months. JJ would just say you’re a good friend and he happily accepted that. In all honesty, he adored you and you felt the same for him, each time you saw him it felt more like you were becoming a family, even if he was totally oblivious to that feeling. But the two of you hadn’t talked about actually telling him what you were, you never wanted to push it with JJ. 

“Uh…” JJ laughed nervously, her eyes shooting between him and you. “Yeah, buddy.”

She was trying hard to think of some way to come up with an excuse for what you were doing in her bed. She knew he didn’t really need an answer, but she feared what he would say to his father, her ex, when Henry inevitably spilled the beans. 

“So,” you heard Will’s voice call from the hall. “We thought we’d surprise you, take you to breakfast!” 

His voice was getting closer and closer and you were frozen in place. There was no way for you to hide now, nowhere for you to run. 

“Sorry to wake you and all, doll,” his voice continued to get louder. “But the little guy just wanted to surprise you.” 

You could hear the creaks of his steps right around the corner. 

“So what do you say?” His voice was right by the doorway now. “Breakfast as a family sounds…”

He didn’t finish his sentence as he entered the doorway. his voice trailed off and his eyes were wide. He was looking between the child clinging to his ex and you, a person he’s met two or three in passing because of the job, standing two feet from the bed. A bed that was unmade and clearly slept in by both of you. 

“You have company.” His whole demeanor changed in an instance. His eyes hardened and his jaw set. “I didn’t know…”

He trailed off again and you heard the unspoken words. He didn’t know JJ was seeing other people. He didn’t know JJ was seeing a co-worker. He didn’t know JJ even liked women. They were all questions you could see swirling in his mind. 

“I’m just leaving,” you finally spoke up. Something told you, you didn’t want to be here for whatever discussion was about to happen. JJ looked over as soon as she heard your voice and gave you both an apologetic, but relieved look. 

You didn’t even gather your clothes. You grabbed your phone and keys, and left in your fuzzy pajamas. 

When you got back to your place you were a mess. Nothing could’ve prepared you for starting your morning like that. JJ sent a text maybe fifteen minutes after you got back home with a quick apology and a promise to talk later. 

But then you didn’t hear from her for hours after that. And hours more once the sun went down. And then suddenly the weekend went by and hours became days. JJ took time off of work and those days turned in to almost two weeks.

You were a mess. The team saw, but didn’t say anything. You just tried your best to do the job. 

For JJ’s part she was also a mess. She knew she needed to see you, to talk to you, to do what she never thought in a million years that she would ever do. That’s why she was ghosting you, so she could put off the pain that she knew was going to feel like ripping out her own heart and stomping all over it and yours in the process too. 

After that day, Will and her had argued. He had told her that he never expected her to move on to someone else. That he always expected she would come back to him once they both felt less married to their jobs. When JJ had said that, though, that was just her excuse to spare his feelings. Will had never made her happy, not in the way she was when she was with you. 

But his words still twisted in her gut like a knife. They spent hours screaming back and forth about everything until he finally took the low blow and used Henry as an excuse. He convinced JJ that when they were apart, Henry would be a mess that he couldn’t be with both his parents at once. 

If JJ was thinking logically, she would’ve seen through that lie since Henry not once mentioned that to her. But she was caught off guard and Will was pressing all the right buttons to make her guilt and anxiety rise, until finally she heard herself give in to him. 

She uttered four words to him and that was all it took to realize JJ had lost this battle. “I’ll break it off.” 

JJ wasn’t ready to accept the full weight of those words. It’s why she didn’t answer your calls or texts and why she took off work for over a week. In that time she didn’t see Will either though. After a few days he added into his arguing that they needed to try again and she adamantly disagreed. She tried to push alternatives, more time spent together with Henry, but not together in a romantic sense. He wasn’t happy about it, but agreed to take what he could get, always saying it was a “start” but JJ didn’t like what that implied. 

What made matters even worse was that she saw you before she was ready to face you and it all happened completely by accident. 

It was rounding on two weeks and JJ was running out of vacation time, so she knew she had to break the news to you soon, she just wasn’t ready for it to be that soon. 

Except, she had foolishly agreed to dinner with Will to discuss Henry away from the house. He convinced her that their son didn’t need to hear them argue and that they’d be more likely to keep their voices level in public. She really shouldn’t have agreed, but she did. And that’s how she found herself seated across from Will at a semi-nice restaurant for the evening. 

To add to everything else, when she realized you were there too, was the exact moment that Will reached out and put his hand over her own. She wasn’t even sure what he was saying, not when the rest of the world felt like it was frozen and crumbling around her all at the same time. 

There you were, about to be seated with Emily walking in behind you. The look in your eye told JJ she didn’t need to say any words to rip your heart out, you figured it out on your own all in that moment. To make matters worse, JJ would usually recoil from Will’s touch, but being so shocked to see you, she couldn’t move a single muscle. 

Your eyes switched between looking at her horrified face to Will’s smug one and then finally to the way his hand laid over hers. It made you sick. Emily stopped in her tracks behind you taking in the scene and no doubt understanding why your body language had changed. 

She had taken you out, guessing the relationship between you and JJ within seconds of it starting. She also knew there was trouble in paradise, so when Emily confirmed you hadn’t heard from JJ after over a week had gone by, she thought a nice dinner would help. At least it would get you out of the apartment. You had stopped leaving other than to go to work since that fateful day. 

Emily didn’t need to see your face to know it was filled with hurt. She put one hand on your shoulder and leaned close to whisper a simple “let’s go” in your ear. 

JJ watched, sick to her stomach, as you nodded and turned back around. All too late her brain fully processed what happened and she shot up from her seat as she watched Emily help put your coat on at the door. 

There was no conversation after that. You didn’t need one, you understood and you avoided her like the plague. 

————————-

Three months went by after that. The two of you only talked when you needed to. You spent more and more time laying in bed than you’d like to admit and JJ… Well, she fell into a pit of self loathing for how much you were hurting. 

Still she didn’t give into Will, despite what you and others might think. She would go along with his plan to spend more time together, but only platonically. And the only reason she agreed to that was because the days she spent at home without Henry were torture. She would stare at the phone and hope for you to call or for her to get the courage to call you, knowing she really could not do that after everything. 

If she wasn’t staring at the phone alone on her own, or ignoring her heartache by spending time with her son, she was busy staring at you any time you worked together. You felt her eyes burn into the back of your head and it always made your chest hurt. You tried your best to ignore it, to ignore her, but there was only so much you could do when she hovered.

Again, you were thinking about finding another job. The only thing was you had just gotten comfortable here. And really, Emily had been your rock through all of this. She had spent a lot of time listening to your heartbreak when you finally revealed what she already knew about the two of you. Emily had even offered to try to talk some sense into JJ, but that avoiding that she was extending to you had unfortunately also extended to the rest of the team. She couldn’t handle seeing any of them, especially if they were going to, undoubtedly, question her about her increased time with Will and what was going on with her intense mood. 

The closeness of you and Emily was starting to drive JJ crazy. She had a million questions ever since she saw her put a hand on your shoulder that fateful day. But she also fully recognized that she had absolutely no right to ask you any questions, and honestly she didn’t think she could handle hearing them for two reasons. One being that if Emily and you were romantically involved it would crush JJ even more, the other being that last time JJ got jealous, her control slipped and that’s what led her to this heartache in the first place.

So instead, JJ just watched and tried to see if she could figure out exactly what was going on. Of course, she told herself she also watched to protect you. Maybe she was a coward who fled from you, but she was still trying to keep some of the promise she made to herself about you since the first day she met you. She already let some of your light die, but she knew that was from how she had hurt you. Those wounds would heal, at least she thought so, but the way this job can leave an impression on a person really couldn’t. She just couldn’t have you getting hurt by anything else. 

Except, when she pushed for you to be away from a case, you started pushing even more strongly for that exact case that she so badly did not want you to have. It was like you were purposely putting her through hell. She had to worry about you and keep her distance for some of these cases, the only good thing was that with Emily close to you now, at least two capable agents could protect you. Anytime she saw Emily do exactly what she swore she would always do, protect you, comfort you from the horrors of a bad case, it would feel like JJ’s heart was ripping at the seams.

And then there was one case that was just too horrible that even JJ could barely stomach it. But you still insisted on heading over with the team. JJ watched with a grimace on her face as Emily sat by you on the jet, her hand on your arm, trying to coach you on what to expect and how to take precautions. JJ was fuming at her close proximity and the way Emily was gentle with you in a manner she didn’t think she had ever seen from the other agent.

It wasn’t at all what JJ thought, though. You didn’t mean to challenge JJ when you insisted on these cases. You just couldn’t stomach going home to your empty apartment so much anymore, not when the ache of losing JJ was getting even worse. So you clung to Emily, your new friend, your confidant. She was a small light in the darkness that was surrounding you both at work and in your own personal life. There was nothing romantic between you two, it was just like you clicked as fast friends and that’s what you really needed right now.

So when a hard case came up and Emily was assigned to it, you insisted on going too so you wouldn’t feel so alone. Every single time, you ignored the snide remarks JJ made when she didn’t get her way. And you definitely tried not to acknowledge the jealous glaring JJ would send your way any time Emily put her hand on you. Deep down, you knew exactly what JJ was thinking about when it came to your closeness with Emily and you hoped she thought it. In fact, you hoped it hurt her. At least then she would have a taste of the suffering she put you through each night you knew she would go home to Will. 

But with this last case, everything was just so much worse. 

Not only were you in a small town with a hotel that had limited availability– so of course, to JJ’s utter dismay, you shared a room with Emily– but you insisted on being way too close to where the danger was. JJ couldn’t help but think that you were so over her and into Emily that you couldn’t be separated for one goddamn second. It wasn’t like that though, if JJ was being logical, she would’ve known it was because you were determined to help in any way you could. 

Except, being closer to the case meant you were closer and closer to being the next victim of this unsub and it had JJ near her breaking point yet again. She hovered closer than ever, and you felt that from the way her fiery eyes would stare at you for hours on end as you and Emily worked closely together on how best to respond to the public while she was busy trying to find the killer.

And of course, the perfect storm came the moment both JJ and Emily took their eyes off you. You got attacked, you almost got shot, you could’ve died. JJ was tired of watching you walk into a hotel room with Emily right behind you and she had to ask. She couldn’t handle it anymore, she told herself if she just found out that you were at least happy with Emily then she would stop hovering, she would try to stop caring.

So she pulled Emily aside, for a moment– it was just a moment. But it was all it took for you to get snatched. JJ didn’t get to ask her question, she heard the struggle and her stomach dropped when she turned around and you weren’t there.

Then, of course, it was Emily who stayed calm. It was Emily who made the plan. It was Emily who found you, found the unsub, and rescued you from a fate JJ was always worried you’d meet. You were bruised and battered, but ultimately fine. JJ wanted to run to you, to hold you and comfort you and care for your wounds, but it was Emily who ran to you first. It was Emily who pulled you into her arms and squeezed you tight. And as JJ ran in behind her and saw the way she held onto you and you held onto her, her feet froze and she couldn’t bear to look at either of you. 

Seeing all of that, going through that case on the sidelines while you were almost lost forever, it was killing JJ. She couldn’t pretend she was okay without you anymore, she couldn’t pretend to be a happy family with Will either. She didn’t know what was happening between you and Emily, but she had to find out, and more than anything she had to see if she could get you to give her another chance.

Emily was her friend, and part of her felt guilty that if her assumptions were true she would essentially be trying to steal her best friend’s girlfriend, but you were hers first. JJ wanted you to be only hers always, and she was just now waking up to that realization.

—-----------------------------

As soon as you all returned from that case, JJ set the record straight with Will. She had long since realized that Henry didn’t really care to spend time with them together. If anything, JJ realized, Henry missed time with you. 

Will did not take it well, but JJ was prepared for that. She threatened court and full custody and he finally backed down. She had gotten him to agree to only see each other for drop offs with Henry and forced him to give her spare key back.

A week had gone by since that case, but the whole team was still feeling the exhaustion from it. When Penelope suggested everyone get drinks, JJ surprised herself by agreeing. But then again, she saw the way Emily approved of that idea and knew that if Emily was going, you would be there. JJ was determined to figure out what was happening between the two of you and watching the way you two were together at the bar would be an excellent clue before JJ finally got up the nerve– for the second time –to confront Emily and figure things out. 

When you all got to the bar, JJ noted how the two of you came in together. She wasn’t surprised, but it made her blood boil in a way that was familiar to when that intern got too close to you. 

You sat in a booth with Penelope and Morgan chatting away while Emily sat her stuff next to you and went to the bar for a couple of drinks. JJ sat at a table with Hotch and Reid, they were discussing something beyond her, but she couldn’t bother to listen. Her eyes were glued to you.

For the most part, you knew she was staring, but you had gotten really good at ignoring it the past few months. Except, this last week it had been worse. She would not only stare at you, but glare at Emily, her own friend. You knew, by the way your pulse sped up each time you caught the look JJ was wearing, that something had to give, you just didn’t know when. You especially didn’t think it would be on a night at the bar, with the entire team surrounding you. 

Three drinks in for you and Penelope suggested some dancing. You didn’t dance, Emily didn’t dance, but Penelope pulled the two of you up and out of the booth anyways. So then you found yourself dancing very close to Emily while Penelope was happily moving along with the music and Morgan right next to you. 

You had never been a good dancer though, so when you tripped on your own feet Emily’s arms flung out to catch you and you found yourself pressed against her. It all happened entirely too fast after that. 

There was a loud slam of a glass somewhere in the distance and then a hand roughly tugging your whole body back by the shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a second?” JJ’s voice was louder than it needed to be, even over the music. Emily had backed up, her hands in the air as if JJ was armed and aiming for her. 

You didn’t even know when JJ had spun you around and away from Emily’s embrace. Your head turned to look at Emily and her face wasn’t even shocked. It was just expectant and unsurprised. She gave you a short nod, looking at you with soft eyes, but before you could even agree JJ pressed again.

“Do I need to ask for your permission to talk to (Y/N)?” 

“JJ!” You gasped at her harsh tone. She had never talked to Emily like that, she would never dare. But she’s also had a couple drinks and she was about done watching her best friend have her hands all over the girl of her dreams. 

“It’s not my decision,” Emily said, keeping a calm and level tone. 

“Excellent,” JJ hissed as her hand grabbed yours and tugged.

She had realized that meant it was up to you, but she didn’t give you a chance to agree. She needed to figure this out alone, right then and there, and in her anger she decided she needed to hear you say it. She needed you to admit that you were able to move on from her so quickly and with her closest friend no less. How could you even do something like that to her? JJ was seething. Yes, she knew it looked like she immediately moved on with Will before even actually properly breaking up with you, but she hadn’t! Aside from that moment where he touched her hand, JJ wouldn’t let him have any sort of physical contact with her after that. She loathed his touch, and she couldn’t imagine you’d be able to handle anyone else’s but hers. After all those nights of admitting to her that you were hers alone, she never thought you’d move on so quickly. But here you were, and to her, it looked like you were utterly wrapped up in Emily.

“JJ, what the actual fuck?” you were protesting as JJ was dragging you across the bar and towards the bathroom. She didn’t seem to care though, as she practically shoved you into the bathroom before stepping in and locking the door behind you.

“I didn’t say that I wanted to talk!” You took a step back from her.

“We need to,” JJ snapped back. She realized she was one to talk, considering the two of you never properly had a break up conversation. But at least now, you could have that or some sort of conversation. Whatever was going to happen, JJ knew it needed to be said.

“We could’ve done that any other time,” you began with your arms crossed over your chest. “It’s been months. And now, with everyone having seen your little outburst– Now, you want to talk to me?” 

“What’s going on between you and Emily?” Okay, so JJ was ignoring everything you said to her now. JJ knew this wasn’t the healthiest way to work out her feelings, but she couldn’t help it. This was driving her crazy, her control was slipping again. There was just something about you that made the resolve she worked on for your years go out the window.

“What?” You took another step back in surprise. JJ followed. “Nothing! Why do you care?” 

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” JJ pressed, taking another step into your personal space.

“Why. Do. You. Care.” You emphasized every word, getting more angry by the second. 

“It hasn’t been that long, (Y/N)!” JJ was still taking a step forward for every step back you took until your back hit the bathroom wall. “Now you’re fucking my friend?”

“So what if I am?” You threw your hands up in frustration. “I can fuck whoever I want! I can go home with a random stranger, I can go home with Emily, I can fuck anyone I want. You know why, JJ?” Your finger poked hard into her chest as you finally reached your own breaking point. “Because you’re fucking your ex and you didn’t even have the decency to break up with me!”

“So you are fucking Emily?”

“Jesus Christ, JJ!” You were yelling, you knew you were yelling, and you knew someone could hear you if they were too close to the bar bathroom. At this point you didn’t care. “NO! I am not, but you know what, maybe I will. Maybe I’ll go home with Emily tonight, maybe I’ll go home with a stranger. I don’t have to be alone just because you decided you don’t want to be with me anymore. And I think it’s time for me to finally, finally move on from you JJ. I’m not yours, I don’t belong to you, I can go fuck–” you practically spit out the word, “whoever the fuck I want.” 

JJ stopped for a second. An uncomfortable silence fell over you as you huffed in heavy breathes from your outburst and the rage boiling through your veins. You took a step forward trying to leave, but in that moment JJ took one too until you were forced to retreat, your back again pressed to the wall. This time she was right in your personal space, much like that first day that she kissed you.

“No you can’t,” JJ’s voice shook with anger as she spoke, but it wasn’t a yell. It was a low, daring tone that made your skin crawl. 

“What?” Your eyes were wide in shock that JJ, after your outburst, would still deny you your own freedom. “Yes, I ca–” 

You couldn’t finish your words, JJ was already on you. In fact, she was pressing her whole body so hard against yours, you barely had room to gasp. It couldn’t be heard anyway, not with the way her lips crushed into yours with blinding speed. 

It wasn’t going to be like the first time though, you weren’t going to give in that easy. You turned your head after a moment of her lips pressed to yours and took a deep breath before trying to protest.

“You’re with Will now!” You gasped out as you felt JJ’s lips meet your jaw line. 

“I never was,” she breathed against your skin. Your blood went cold at that, but you didn’t even have time to process before JJ’s hand snaked between the two of you and cupped your chin. With little effort, due to the shock of her words, she pulled your head back so your lips could meet hers again and all you could manage to do was let her kiss you. 

But some sense came back to you the moment you felt her teeth tug at your bottom lip. You pushed on her chest and tried to turn your head again, only able to mumble a weak, “I don’t understand…” against her lips. 

Her hold on your chin tightened, keeping you in place as she used her body weight to keep you still against the wall. “This has been torture,” JJ groaned against you. Her fingers clenched harder around your jaw as she dragged her lips across yours once again. “I can’t handle it anymore.” Her lips pressed firmly against yours this time and all you could do was whimper against her mouth. 

“I’m not with Will,” she continued to mumble breathlessly against your mouth. Your hands braced themselves on either side of her waist as she pressed you harder and harder against the wall. “You’re supposed to be mine,” she practically growled against your lips.

She was filling all your senses and your head was swimming. You were supposed to hate her, she left you. She hid you and then she got back with her ex, but here she was devouring your lips with her own. You weren’t supposed to swoon at the way she called you hers or melt when you felt her tongue dance against your own. But you couldn’t help it… she was all you ever wanted. 

Your body practically melted in her arms as her lips dragged themselves over yours before fully claiming your mouth in a searing kiss. The way her tongue swept over your lips until finally you parted yours had your head swimming. When you both heard and felt the groan that escaped her own mouth your whole body shuddered. You really shouldn’t be doing this, you knew that somewhere deep down in your mind. But every time her tongue ran against yours that thought got pushed back further and further until all that was left was just her. 

When one of her hands left from around your waist to tangle in your hair, you knew you were a goner. Her lips had left yours to attach themselves to your neck and you did nothing to stop it. The hand that had made its way to your hair was now tightened into a fist and she was pulling hard, making you tilt your head back so she could have more access to the most sensitive parts of your neck. All you could do was whine and squeeze your eyes shut as the overwhelming feeling of JJ’s tongue making its way down to your collarbone was driving you crazy. 

There was no way you were going to snap out of this. You knew that the aftermath of whatever was happening between the two of you in this moment would break you as soon as it was over, but you had missed her so much. If she was being driven crazy just because she saw you for two seconds with someone else, how did she think you felt? It was torture not having this with JJ anymore. You craved this. You needed it. 

But still there was that one voice. It was so small and distant now, but it was still telling you this was not a good idea. That you should push her away before this would hurt too much. JJ leaving you the first time had broken you and you’re barely putting the pieces back together. What happens if you break again? Will there be enough of you left to even salvage? 

It was the feeling of JJ’s teeth biting down hard into the most sensitive part of your neck that somehow finally broke you out of the trance you had fallen under. It was like someone dumped ice cold water on your system and your entire body went ridge. JJ was too focused on the feeling of having you in her arms and against her lips again to notice, though. 

She kept going, running her tongue over the angry red mark she had just left. Your hands were balled into fists again at either of her sides and if she noticed that you were trying to lean away from her, she didn’t seem to care.

“JJ, wait,” your voice was quiet and hoarse. If you could’ve you would’ve been more assertive, but your head was still swimming. Your hands pressed harder onto her sides, trying to keep her still while you pushed your own body away, but her grip was strong. One of her hands tightened in your hair and the other around your waist; the action made you wince. 

“Please, stop.” Your voice was a little louder now and you felt the reality of the last few moments settle in your stomach like a bowling ball. Thankfully, JJ finally took notice of this. Her body stilled and her head tilted back up with hooded, hungry eyes. For a split second you wanted to throw it all away, but that tiny voice had officially won.

“Why?” JJ was still holding onto you, but the hand in your hair had finally moved back to your waist. 

“JJ, I can’t handle this. I could barely handle sneaking around, I definitely can’t handle being your little secret again until you decide to leave and go play family. Or make me the other woman… or whatever is going on here.” 

“You’re not those things, you would never be those things.” JJ’s eyes said it all as she uttered that sentence. The pain in them had shown, but it just added to your confusion over this whole situation. You were torn between wanting to yell at her and comfort her all at the same time.

“Then what am I, JJ?” You needed to press this. She can’t just keep you from moving on, she can’t keep interjecting when someone shows slight interest. Either this all needed to stop for good or the both of you needed to finally figure things out. “What is it that you really want?”

“It’s…” JJ stood still, her hands still gripping your waist. The sound of the drip of the faucets nearby seemed deafening in the uncomfortable silence, but yet you waited. “You. I want you.” 

There was a pause and you took a deep, shaky breath to ground yourself. “What does that mean, JJ?” You whispered your question, afraid to get your hopes up. 

“That I want to do this for real. I’m done holding back,” JJ’s hand released you for a moment to brush hair from your face and tuck it behind your ear. “I’ll tell everyone, I’ll vow to never leave you again. I just can’t be without you anymore longer.” 

You searched her eyes for a moment and this time you could see the sincerity shining through them.

“Just tell me you’re mine,” JJ whispered as she pressed her forward to yours. “Just please, tell me you’re mine.” 

“I- I’m…” you took another deep breath, squeezing your eyes tight before tilting your head up so JJ would move hers down. “I’m yours,” you breathed with a soft kiss placed on her forehead. 

When JJ heard those words her hands moved once again to hold either side of your face, bringing your lips in for another searing kiss. But this time you were ready and you met her with as much passion. 

She kissed you like that for a while, her lips pressing completely against yours in a way that left you gasping for air against her mouth. After a moment JJ left your lips and kissed up your jaw. She made her way to your ear and leaned into you closer, her breath tickling as she took a moment to enjoy the way you were panting and shaking against her. “Can we get out of here?” JJ’s voice was filled with so much want as her teeth grazed your ear. You bit your lip to stop yourself from letting out an embarrassing whimper at the words you longed to hear once again, and nodded your response instead. 

——————- 

Getting into her place was messy. As soon as the Uber dropped you off, JJ’s lips, tongue, and teeth were all over you again. The way she was kissing you, you already knew you were a mess for her. 

As soon as she managed to get her front door open, she slammed it closed and then slammed you onto it, grinding her knee between your legs as she kissed you in a frenzy. At some point, the two of you had pulled off your shoes and she had scooped you up, still kissing you like crazy, as she walked the two of you to the bedroom. 

When she flung you onto the bed, with more excitement than grace, you didn’t even have time to react before she was on top of you, pulling at yours and her own clothes.

“Tonight,” JJ growled against lips, “you’re going to know that you belong to me alone, always.” You felt her hips roll against yours from where she had already gotten between your legs and you gasped at the sensation. 

“And you— you’re- oh god.” JJ’s teeth were sinking into your neck again and her hands already had your shirt and bra over your chest so her fingers could play with your nipples. It was making full sentences nearly impossible to get out. “Y-you’re mine.”

“All yours, princess,” JJ purred as her tongue and teeth moved down your neck and onto your chest. The second you felt her warm mouth close around your nipple, you couldn’t stop the pathetic whine that fell from your lips. You didn’t even notice that JJ had also managed to pull your shirt over your head, you were just so far gone in all the sensations she was giving you and she hadn’t even really started yet. 

JJ spent time paying attention to your breasts, alternating between your nipples with her lips and teeth while she continued to rock her thigh between your legs and encouraged you to grind on her. Things were building up fast too, you could feel yourself getting worked up and close to release, but you desperately wanted more. More of her touch, more of her hungry possessiveness, more of everything. 

It was like she read your mind though, because in an instant she was pulling away. You started to whine but then you felt her hands pull at your tight jeans and you were just relieved that it meant more direct contact with JJ where you needed her most. But then, once you were finally completely naked, JJ got off the bed. 

“Where are you going…” you trailed off as your eyes followed her to her night stand. You didn’t need an answer, as you watched her pull out a silk bag that outlined its contents quite obviously. JJ quickly removed the rest of her clothes before returning to the foot of the bed. 

“I got this a while ago for us,” JJ admitted as she pulled out what the bag was not-so-discreetly hiding. “But I was holding off on telling you, I was worried I would get too intense if we tried it, but…” JJ was back on the bed, kneeling between your legs, her hands on either of your knees. “I’m tired of holding back, aren’t you?”

You swallowed hard as your eyes zeroed in on what JJ’s hands were doing. With a pink, double-sided strap in her hands, she was spreading lube on both sides. You couldn’t help but notice how one side was quite larger than the other. 

“It vibrates by the way,” JJ’s wink was even visible in the dimly lit room. “Are you okay with this?”

You appreciated the check in, and yeah you were nervous for this, but you also had never wanted something more than this moment right now. “Yes,” you practically moaned the word in excited anticipation. 

“Good,” JJ gave you a smile more mischievous than you’ve ever seen it. And your eyes were still completely transfixed on the way her hands were lowering the toy down between her legs. “Let me just…” she trailed off as she took it inside herself and you watched in a trance as she shivered at the sensation. 

Then it was your turn. She readjusted your own legs, spreading you wider and you couldn’t help but feel yourself flush at how exposed you were. You also knew you were incredibly wet from her already. Even if she used lube, you didn’t think you needed it. Although, it was big, and the biggest you’ve ever taken before was just her three fingers… 

The toy lining up with your entrance is what woke you up from your thoughts and you gulped. JJ’s pupils were blown as she looked down at your naked body, your pussy dripping wet for her before she even entered you. And then, in a flash, she was all the way in. 

The way you both groaned at the sudden feeling spurred JJ on fast. She was immediately entranced by how good she felt while also being flush between your own thighs. “Doing okay?” JJ’s voice was strained, she was trying hard not to just start fucking you into the mattress. She needed the okay first. 

“Mm.. mhm,” was all you could manage, but you paired it with a nod. Your eyes were shut tight and you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your own hips against JJ’s, desperate to feel her start moving. 

The toy was big, the way it stretched you out burned, but it was so fucking delicious in every way. Except, the moment you rolled your hips a second time that was all it took for JJ to break. She knew she wouldn’t be able to go slow with this toy, not when it felt good to actually feel you somewhat when you try to fuck yourself on the strap. She just didn’t know it would be this good. 

JJ’s grip on your legs tightened and she began to grind into you hard. Your head immediately fell back onto the bed when you felt JJ’s hips rock into your own. She was moving faster than you expected she would and it was all overwhelming. 

With the way JJ was moving, her whole body was now pressed against yours. Moans and desperate sighs came from above you and you couldn’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her even tighter against you. Your hips moved in time with hers and the way you felt her shake in pleasure above you while you took every single pump of the toy into you was incredible. 

JJ’s hand came to your chin and she pulled your head back down until you were face to face, her body never slowing from the way it rutted into you. “Does it feel good?” JJ purred as she kept fucking into you with the strap, every pump pushing her end against the right spot for her. “Do you like what I’m doing to you, princess?” 

You moaned, your eyes squeezing shut tight as JJ pumped even harder in that moment. But JJ’s hand stayed on your chin, squeezing a little tighter than before. “Use your words,” she demanded as her thrusts got more powerful. 

“Yes!” You cried when JJ’s other hand moved to hook your own leg around her waist. “Fuck just— please just don’t stop.” 

“Good girl,” JJ groaned as she felt her own peak building. “Look at me.” 

It was a struggle to open your eyes but you did so just as JJ’s hand moved from your chin to your neck. “You’re mine,” JJ growled as she applied pressure. You groaned out a yes in agreement and JJ moaned as her hips continued to move frantically. 

“You’re mine,” she repeated, fucking into you with full force, “and you’re going to look at me when I make you cum.” Those words were what finally did it, you fell apart on her strap with a loud moan. Her hips never stopped their pace until finally you felt her whole body shudder above you. Her head fell into your neck and you felt the way she moaned and placed wet kisses to your bare skin. The way the orgasm hit JJ was just as powerful as yours and you both slowed for a moment. 

But that moment was short, because as JJ pressed her whole body weight on top of you, you felt her hips roll again and you whined at the sensitive sensation. 

“Shhh,” JJ soothed, “you’re going to give me one more.” 

“JJ I don’t know if-“ her hands were moving down your body, hoisting both your legs this time over her hips. You tried to finish your sentence but you couldn’t with the way she was slowly pumping the toy back into your already sensitive pussy. 

“We haven’t even tried all its features.” You didn’t comprehend what JJ meant until it was too late and she had you gasping in surprise. One of her hands had left your leg and moved down between the two of you. She had turned on the vibration and now, the pink, rather large strap on that was inside both of you was vibrating in a way that was causing your eyes to roll back into your head. 

“Oh my god,” you both said in unison, only your voice sounded like a garbled moan at the same time, while JJ just sounded breathlessly fascinated at the reaction it was pulling from you. 

“This is better than I ever dreamed it would be,” JJ purred as her hips restarted their rocking rhythm into you. The way the toy curved so the base of it hit JJ’s clit at the same time made her struggle with her staying steady and slow, but she knew you were sensitive and needed to be worked back up gently at first. 

With your legs hooked over her waist though, the strap was hitting even deeper than it had been when you first came and now that it was vibrating too, you swore you were seeing stars. 

“That’s it,” JJ whispered as she grabbed your hips and helped you fuck into her strap. “Keep moaning for me, baby, moan my name.” 

You didn’t even know you were doing that. You just couldn’t even control your body. All you could do was moan and whine as you let JJ fuck your into the mattress. 

Your whole body was shaking and JJ’s was too. Her pace was faster again and you knew it was a matter of time before you both came together again, but when JJ reached down and turned up the vibration you instantly fell apart in a show of moans and tears before she could cum with you. 

She didn’t stop there though, she didn’t even turn down the vibration as her hips started going harder. 

“J… JJ I can’t.” You were practically slurring your words, you could barely function with how many sensations were going on as JJ kept using your body to get herself off. 

“Shhh, one more baby one more,” JJ pleaded as she chased her own orgasm using your body. “I wanna cum again too.” 

You just nodded desperately, your eyes shut tight as JJ again pressed her naked body to yours and fucked the toy into the both of you. Her moans were getting louder and yours were matching as your nearly exhausted body was being brought to the edge for a third time. 

JJ hips were slamming hard into yours again, so hard you knew there would be bruises. And the grip she had on your hips was so tight you figured there would be nail marks left over too. But neither of you cared, because when JJ came on top of you again with a desperate moan you couldn’t help the cry that you let out as you felt your body release for a third time. 

And finally, finally after a brief moment, JJ moved to turn the vibration off. Your body jolted at the feeling of it finally stopping, but you couldn’t even pick up your own head to look as JJ slowly pulled the toy out from you and then her. 

“Holy shit,” JJ panted as she rolled off you and pulled your spent body to her chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly. 

“Good… we’ll give it five minutes and then I want to taste you.” 

“What?!” You perked up at that. Your body was still shaking and you knew your thighs were covered in your own cum. If you came one more time you didn’t think you’d be able to walk tomorrow. 

“I told you,” JJ traced a finger across your jaw as you looked up at her with wide eyes. “I’m not holding back anymore. Tonight I will show you who you belong to and I’m not done showing you yet.”

You gulped as you looked at the resolve in her eyes. You knew there was no stopping this once JJ had decided to let go of control, but this is all you ever wanted. So, maybe another round… or even two… wouldn’t be so bad. At least you both had the day off tomorrow.

Join the taglist here

Tags: @geekyandgay98 @desperate-gay @high--power @finleyfray @natashamaximoff69 @inlovewithemilyprentiss @lovelyy-moonlight @jareguiromanoff @dj-bynum3718 @marinawolf @taivantaylor @noahrex

[tothisfeeling]

PRACTICED DANCE

SUMMARY — though your first time with wanda isn’t exactly what you expected, you wouldn’t change anything about it

WARNINGS — smut 18+ only, literally just pwp, dom!wanda, fingering, degrading, heavy on the praise kink, teasing, choking, soft toward the end… i think that covers everything

AUTHORS NOTE — i got carried away, and kind of hate everything about it… but enjoy!

“Are you sure?”

The night had simply fallen away from you. The chocolate covered strawberries that coated her kisses in sugarcane had completely dismantled the boundaries you’d set when you agreed to this. You were still early in a relationship, seven months and still her touch was still so foreign to you, so sacred. You had no mind to rush anything physical, and she was respectful of that. You wanted to savor her, and she wanted to cherish you.

“Just touch me. Wands, please.” Breathy whimpers escape you, sweaty hands braced on the silky rounds of your girlfriends muscular shoulders. All that training with Steve and Natasha is beginning to show, and the feel of her triceps and deltoids tensing beneath your needy fingertips is breath-stealing. Your nails create crescents upon her sweaty slick skin, thighs squeezing her impossibly close to where you need her, but you want her closer. “I need you.”

“You need me, huh?” Wanda taunts. Her satin sounding voice sends shivers down your already flushed spine and ignites a deep tension in your belly that’s growing to be unbearable the longer she teases. “I thought you didn’t want this, pretty girl. Thought you could handle waiting?”

Wanda twirls a strand of your hair between her calloused fingers, and then traces a path almost menacingly down the curve of your jaw that began to tremble at her weightless caress. She brushes the pad of her gentle thumb across your bottom lip, whispering a string of delicate praise into the space between you before she pushes the pad of her thumb past your lips to rest heavy on your tongue. Your tongue flicks across the round of her thumb, and its sweet enough to entirely disrupt her original plan to take things slow. Forget cherishing you, she wants to ruin you.

She drops her face into your neck, teeth biting down onto the sensitive skin of your exposed collarbone, taunting you. The whine that falls from your lips is heavenly, a sweet melody that Wanda needs to hear again. Over and over. You're putty in her clutches and she’s trying to sculpt the finest china.

“What was that, detka? Don’t have anything to say for yourself?” Wanda teases, pushing the pad of her thumb heavy against your tongue, cursing into your neck when she feels you resist to gag. “Good girl. Such a good girl for me, yeah? Gonna be a good girl and take me? Right here? Right in this little pussy? God you’re so fucking wet. What's got you so wet, baby? Huh? Go ahead, you can tell me. What’s got my girl so worked up?”

Your panties are soaked through, sticking to your heat near uncomfortably at this point, after so long of her teasing. Wanda takes no pity on your embarrassment either, pulling her thumb from the warmth of your mouth and cynically spreading the weakness across your exposed and vulnerable chest that’s been bruised from her insistent kisses and love bites. Your nipples pebble at the action, your hips searching for friction as they arch further into her.

“Suck a dirty girl.” She clicks her tongue at you, taking a gamble on her actions, though you show no disinterest in her albeit cruel taunting, if anything, it turns you on tenfold and she takes a note to really test your limits. The hot muscle shoots out to soothe the bites that shes left across your body, strands of red hair tickling your skin as she works. Her fingers work at removing the soiled garments from between your legs at the same time, and when she pulls away from you entirely, you’re forced to watch her bring the damp panties to her face and inhale the scent of your arousal. A whine is trapped between your lips as you gnaw at them with lustful impatience. Your body feels like its burning up at the sight of her.

“Wands, please. No more teasing. I just want to f-feel you. P-please.” In time with your begging, like it's a practiced dance between the two of you, your girlfriend makes quick work of finding your heat with her fingers. She’s talented in her methods, collecting the slick from your throbbing pussy and spreading it easily over your button, watching you closely for any sign that she should slow down or give you a minute to breathe. As rough as she is, Wanda is nothing but gentle.

“You wanna feel me, sweet girl?” Wanda's fingers leave your cunt, teasing up your thighs before her sticky fingers wrap around your neck loosely. Your eyes go wide, a gasp falling from your lips that part instinctively, complete submission clouding your mind. Your hand comes up to curl around her wrist, your eyes fluttering like the wings of a butterfly in the breeze as you try to keep a handle on your surroundings, wanting nothing more than to melt into the feeling of her hands on you and the beautiful ache in your center. “You want to feel me in this little pussy? Is that what you want? I need words, petal.”

Tears spring in the corner of your eyes, overwhelming your sight as you try to relieve the ache between your legs but arching up into her. You nod your head, incoherently babbling almost the only audible sound over your panting and whines. “Please, Wands. I need you. I need your fingers.” You whine, gentle eyes searching your girlfriends. The beautiful shade of hunter that sticks out like supernova in dark rooms is now almost completely black with lust. It was almost scary, how beside herself she looked in her domination, but it was beautiful all the less. She was beautiful.

“Get them wet for me, angel.” Wanda relinquishes her hold on your neck to push his fingers ito your mouth. She works your mouth like she would your pussy, her own eyes pinching shut as she tries to keep her own desire at bay. This moment is about you, she can sort herself out later. “Good girl. So fucking good, for me. Just for me, yeah? Go on, spread your legs for me, pretty girl. Let me take care of you.”

Wanda pulls her fingers from the hot confines of your mouth, smiling at you so innocently its a harsh contrast to the blackness of her eyes. She removes her own shirt from her body, finally allowing you to see all of her chest and toned ab muscles. Clothes are scattered around your candle-light apartment, the chocolate covered strawberries you made earlier in the afternoon completely forgotten about and feeling like decades ago as they rest on the ottoman.

For the first time since she’s worked you up to this point, Wanda’s lips settle on yours in a delicate embrace that takes your breath away all over again. She’s filled with nothing but complete admiration for you, and the gentle way her tongue swipes across your bottom lip has you falling deeper and deeper into a puddle of lust. Her fingers continue their exploration, down the valley of your breasts and over your belly until they get to where you need her most.

“I love you.” You gasp out just as her fingers enter you again, arching up into her chest as she eases you into this slowly. Two fingers stretch you perfectly, and the gentle pace she’s working on is enough to put static between your ears and nothing else. Your walls flutter around her fingers, silky and hot and perfect to her. You throw your arms around her neck, tangling your fingers into the root of her red locks, pulling at them firmly as she picks up for pace.

Wanda moans against your mouth, the muscles in her biceps flexing and tensing as she keeps gong at a sharp pace. Her chocolatey breath fans across your face as she smiles, and pecks your nose in the softest kiss. “I love you too. I love you so much, Y/N. You’re doing good for me, so fucking good.”

You both lose yourself in the pleasure, kissing and panting, biting and scratching, Wanda helping you reach your long desired high with whispers of passionate affection against your skin. Blood bubbles across her back, your nails ripping into her skin as your walls tighten tellingly around your fingers. Wanda curses, the pain only fueling her as she eases another finger into your sopping wet entrance and curls them against that beautiful spot inside of you. She’s reduced you to screaming whimpers and insatiable begging.

“Let me hear you. That's it, malysh. Such a perfect girl for me, darling.” Wanda continues drilling her fingers inside of you, scissoring your walls apart as they fight to keep her fingers still and inside of you, and her other hand snakes around to soothe the ache in your hips as your legs squeeze her close to you. Her lips are heavy against yours, and as she kisses you deeply, its like your tongues are dancing a ritualistic dance that you’ve practiced before. “Let go for me, angel. cum for me. Let me feel you.”

“Please.” Your walls squeeze her fingers tightly, spasming around the digits that repeatedly hit your favorite spot over and over again with pristine accuracy. Her scent is all around you, and the way her hair tickles your skin and falls around your face to capture only the two of you in this moment is almost entirely out of a fairytale. “Wanda.” You tug at the roots of her hair, attempting to both meet her calculated thrusts and wiffle away from the intense pleasure she’s providing you.

“Don’t run from me, baby.” Her voice is soft, a teasing giggle in her words as she works you closer to your high. “Just like that, baby. You’re doing so well for me. You gonna cum? Gonna let me feel you?” She coos, her hand leaving your hips to brush strands of sweaty hair away form your hair. Her thumb collects the tears that escape your eyes, brushing them away with a gentle smile. Her fingers keep drilling into you, her thumb coming up to swipe at your clit and send you tumbling over the edge before you could warn her. She smiles, pecking your lips over and over again as she mumbles her blessing. “Cum for me, sweet girl. Thats right. Let go. It’s okay.”

Pleasure surrounds you, your orgasm powerful and the best you’ve ever had. Youre seeing white as she rides you through it, your body tightening as you just feel what she’s giving you. Wanda’s bottom lip is caught between her teeth, her eyes gentle as she watches you thoroughly, wanting to remember this in the front of her brain for the rest of her life.

She pulls her fingers out of her, wiping them off on her legs as she shushes your whines at being empty. Her arms circle around your waist, her face buried in your neck and breathing in your scent as your chest rises and falls in the aftermath of your orgasm. Your body is hot, sweaty, but she presses against your impossibly close and smiles lazily. You return the smile, eyes blinking sleepy up at her as she tingles her fingers into your hair and tucks it behind your ears.

“I love you.” She reminds you, kissing you gently.

You giggle, pressing your forehead against hers. “I didn’t think our first time would be on the couch next to an audience of strawberries.” You admit, though nothing in your tone indicates any regrets. Wanda laughs beautifully, nuzzling deeper into you.

“It was perfect.” She enlightens, “But how about we take round two into the bedroom.”

[tothisfeeling]

MELISSA BARRERA as SAM CARPENTER SCREAM VI (2023) dir. Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett

[tothisfeeling]

MELISSA BARRERA as JOEY ABIGAIL (2024) dir. Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett

[tothisfeeling]

Melissa Barrera as Sam Carpenter in Scream (2022)

[tothisfeeling]

MELISSA BARRERA as JOEY ABIGAIL (2024) dir. Matt Bertinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett

[tothisfeeling]

Love her in every universe

[tothisfeeling]

⟡ COZY & SPOOKY | A. HARKNESS

PAIRING : agatha harkness x reader

SUMMARY : nothing like a halloween movie night in the comfort of your home, with your wife and son

CONTENT + WARNINGS : established relationship, agatha is reader’s wife. domestic & fluff. soft agatha. gender neutral reader. petnames (dear, honey, love & cinnamon). agatha is weird and doesn't like hocus pocus — movie of the century 🤷‍♀️

WORD COUNT : 2k

A/N : happy halloween, witches <3 just a bit of soft wife agatha for the soul. also, i never meant for it to be this long, jesus christ. sorry? or you're welcome. i don't really like this, i dunno

AO3 | MASTERLIST

The soft rain poured outside and you watched as the raindrops raced their way down the kitchen window’s glass. You could hear the sound of your wife and son playing and laughing together in the next room, a soft smile playing on your lips as you finished making hot chocolate for your Halloween movie night, adding cream to Nichola’s cup and cinnamon to Agatha’s, just the way they liked it. “Honey, could you come help me carry the food?” You called out, your head poking out of the kitchen door.

You watched as your wife nodded, planting a quick kiss on your child’s forehead and ascending from the couch. She gave you a quick peck on the lips as she slipped into the kitchen, grabbing the popcorn and the chips. “You're not going to make me watch that ridiculous excuse of a witch movie, are you, dear?” She raised an eyebrow at you, her tone a mixture of annoyance and affection.

Your hands moved to your hips, mouth hanging open in the purest form of offense. “If you're talking about Hocus Pocus, yes, I will. And it is not ridiculous! It's a Halloween classic that made history. Be more respectful.” She laughed with amusement at your words, shaking her head.

You pouted, bottom lip sticking out in a childish manner. She used it to her advantage, tugging it between her teeth playfully and making you gasp. “I’ve never seen you defend your own wife the way you defend that movie. But fine, just because Nicky likes it. But just so you know-!”

You sighed, carrying the hot chocolate and marshmallows to the living room and ignoring your witchy wife blabbering about how Hocus Pocus is a terrible stereotype of witches and that they do not use brooms — even though you knew she used to, centuries ago. You gave Nicholas a hug as you sat down, pulling him onto your lap and ruffling his hair. “Ready for movie night, baby?” You asked softly. He nodded enthusiastically and you smiled at his happiness.

“Hey, that's my spot!” Agatha’s voice invaded the room as she walked in, offense etched into her features as she referred to your lap. Nicholas laughed and his tongue hung out of his mouth as he hugged you tightly in order to make Agatha jealous. “Oh, young man, you don't want to see me mad!” She said playfully, organizing the food on the small table in front of the TV and dragging it closer to the couch so Nicholas could reach it with more ease.

The two of you spent the entire morning decorating the whole house while Nicholas was asleep; fairy lights everywhere, paper bats glued onto the walls, a few skeletons around the rooms and small witch hats here and there — definitely your idea, Agatha hated them. Your wife would never reveal the upsetting truth about the disappearance of maybe two or three of the miniature hats; she got rid of them, muttering something about ‘ridiculous stereotypes’ before throwing them in the trash and covering it with an empty package of whatever snack she found.

Agatha plopped down onto the couch next to you with a contented sigh, her arm snaking around your shoulders as she gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead, then on Nicky‘s. She rubbed your arm covered by your pumpkin sweater and nuzzled your neck, inhaling your scent before pulling back, snatching the remote from the armrest and turning on the TV.

“I’m assuming we're watching Pocus Hocus.” She nagged, her voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain, saying the wrong movie title on purpose to piss you off. It worked, she notices, when she whipped her head to the side and found you with narrowed eyes. You heard your child giggle on your lap, shaking his head exaggeratedly. “No, mama! It's Hocus Pocus! Not Pocus Hocus!”

With a smile, you watched your wife feigning offense and confusion, a hand flying to her chest dramatically. “What? Are you playing tricks on me, young man? It's obviously Pocus Hocus!” You blinked in surprise at how quickly Agatha snatched little Nicholas from your lap, laying him down on the couch and tickling his most sensitive spots, causing the child to kick and wave his arms around in a failed attempt to stop his mother’s actions. The sound of laughter filled the room, your heart swelling with love towards your little family.

You took the opportunity to press play on the movie and adjust the volume, your own legs bouncing with excitement — even though you watched this movie every October 31st. You heard an excited gasp escape Nicholas’ lips as he heard the movie starting, breaking free from the witch’s cruel torture. He laid his head on your lap, his legs comfortably resting on top of Agatha’s. A smile tugged at the corner of your wife’s mouth as she reached over to caress your son’s wild locks, pooling around his head like a halo. “Little angel.” She muttered, not loud enough for him to hear, curious eyes glued onto the image on the television.

Without a word, your head fell to the side, resting on Agatha’s shoulder, soft hair grazing against her cheek. The three of you spent the entirety of the movie in the same position, occasionally reaching over to grab something from the snack table that you prepared with much love. Nicholas laughed as he threw a popcorn inside of Agatha’s mouth, cheering when she caught it with perfection, waving and blowing kisses towards the non-existing audience. You felt lucky.

Lucky that you found the woman of your dreams, and terribly lucky that she chose you. In a world where she could choose to build a family with a powerful witch like her, she chose you instead; the awkward neighbor next door with big, curious eyes that kept stealing adoring glances towards her. The only person who never judged her after discovering she was a witch or the things she had done in the past. The person that made her feel at home.

After a quick bathroom break, you started up a second Halloween movie. You would be lying if you said you paid attention to the name or even to whatever was happening in the story, head tipping forward as you fought against the sleep that threatened to wash over you. It seemed you lost the battle, being awakened by Agatha’s voice against your ear, her hands gently shaking you. “Honey, Nicky fell asleep. I’ll get him to bed, you stay right here, alright?” She mumbled quietly getting up from the couch.

You felt the weight being lifted from your lap as she picked up your son’s sleeping form, cradling him lovingly in her arms. You rubbed your tired eyes with the back of your hand and a yawn left your lips while you waited for her to come back, legs being lazily thrown over the couch’s armrest. Your eyes fluttered closed once more, feeling yourself falling asleep again. Until you felt something poking your cheek, turning your head to glance at Agatha standing over you. She smiled and pinched your cheek. “Sleeping Beauty #1 is tucked in. Now, come here, it's time for Sleeping Beauty #2.”

You let out a whine as you felt yourself being lifted from the couch by her strong arms, your own wrapping around her neck as you nuzzled against it and showered the warm skin with kisses. She chuckled, making her way upstairs carrying you like it's nothing. She kicked the bedroom door open and slipped inside, repeating the gesture to shut it closed. You whined when you noticed she ignores the existence of your cozy, perfect bed, going towards the bathroom instead. “Nuh uh, no complaining. Let's get you a bath, okay? Then you can sleep.”

An annoyed grunt left your lips, but you didn't say anything, allowing her to sit you down on top of the toilet seat. With heavy eyes, you watched as she got the water started, humming a song that you're sure she made up. Like a child, you put your arms up for her delicate hands slipping your sweater off. She tugged at the waistband of your pants and you lifted your hips, a pout lingering on your lips at how carefully she undressed you. She kept a hand on your lower back as you got into the bathtub filled with bubbles to ensure you didn't slip.

The water splashed as you kickes your feet like a child would, a sigh escaping your lips. Agatha sat down on the edge of the bathtub, hands massaging your shoulders. You groaned, feeling your body relax under your lover’s skilled touch. “If I wasn't so tired, I'd ask you to wash my hair. Your hands are so damn good.” You breathed out, eyes narrowing at the teasing chuckle that immediately left Agatha’s lips. “Pervert.”

“I didn't say a thing.” She quickly responded to your insult, putting her hands up defensively. A comfortable silence washed over the bathroom as she kept massaging your shoulders and neck. As you yawned exaggeratedly, she dipped a finger into the water, noting the temperature was turning cold. “We should get you to bed now, love.” No matter how long you've been together, whenever she spoke in that soft tone of hers you simply melted. And she melted too, a soft smile playing on her lips as she noticed your adoring gaze.

Quickly getting you out of the tub, she sat you down onto the toilet seat once more to dry you with her purple towel. “Is this gonna make me smell like you?” You questioned cheekily with a raised brow. She chuckled lightly, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“It might. Is that good or bad?” Instructing you to put your arms up, she dressed you with care; in her clothes, of course. You looked down at yourself, your body being protected from the cold air by Agatha’s long, black pajamas.

“Good.” You muttered as you wiggled your feet after she finished putting on the pair of white socks. “You know I have my own clothes, right?” You teased. Your yelp was loud when she threw you over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, your hands clumsily reaching to grip the back of her shirt. She threw you onto the bed, making you frown playfully.

“But you look so much better in mine.”

You turned on your side, curling up. Agatha threw the covers on top of you, kissing your nose. You heard the brunette walking into the bathroom, assuming she's changing into more comfortable clothes. Eyebrows furrowed when you noticed she was brushing her teeth. Reluctantly slipping out of the warm bed, you sauntered to the bathroom, standing next to your wife and grabbing your own toothbrush. She watched with a raised brow.

“Need to brush my teeth too, or else they are gonna get all gross and you won't love me anymore.” She looked amused at your words, an arm wrapping around you as you brushed your teeth together.

“You could have stayed in bed, dear. I’d just wake you up by shoving toothpaste and a brush in your face first thing in the morning.” She whined when you nudged her with your elbow painfully.

When you were done, you left Agatha behind and rushed to the comfort of your bed, jumping on it like a child and giggling. “Be careful.” You heard her say, glancing back to find her leaning against the doorframe while drying her hands. Turning your back to her with a huff, you missed the way she shook her head in amusement and threw the hand towel on top of the sink — which would definitely earn her a scolding in the morning.

She shuffled into bed behind you, hugging you and kissing your neck a few times. You hummed in contentment, pushing back against her comfortably.

“Goodnight, cinnamon. I love you.” She spoke against your ear, making you shiver. Cinnamon. That's a new one, you thought. You barely had time to mutter a response before drifting off to sleep, feeling happy and at home. Because you were.