#a touch pad elevator

[niobiumao3]

Another Season 1 gem I was reminded of in my 'what does the Marauder's interior look like' search:

I love his confused 'I said programmed did you think I meant hypnosis?????????' expression.

[dollfacefantasy]

kinktober day 12 - cockwarming dick grayson x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, cockwarming, praise/degradation

"Ah, ah, ah. No moving, baby. That was the deal, remember?" your boyfriend coos from behind you.

Your velvety walls flutter around him, all your other muscles going taut with frustration. Tilting your head back, a whimper echoes from you.

Right now, he was really living up to his name.

"Pleaseeeee, Dick," you whine. A pout forms on your lips even though he wouldn't be able to see it from this angle.

"No," he laughs and pats your ass, "You said this would be enough for you. That you didn't need strenuous activity to feel good."

He was laying in bed, as the doctor (Alfred) had ordered. A pile of plush pillows pile behind him, keeping his bruised face elevated. More cuts and scrapes littered his chest and abs and mark up those beautiful muscles with remnants of the pain he'd endured. You sat on his lap facing away from him, his cock buried inside you.

Last week, he had a pretty rough night. On patrol, some guys got the jump on him, had some weapons he'd never encountered or something like that. It was hard to understand the story with the way he'd mumbled it out when he came home barely conscious. The state he was in scared the life out of you. You called Alfred in tears, sobbing into the phone about how you thought Dick was gonna die on the floor of your kitchen.

As it turned out, he was fine. Totally fine by now, which was why you felt comfortable rubbing up on him and snaking your hand down south to the waistband of his loose sweatpants. It had been over a week since Alfred told him to get some rest, and he had no real injuries. He just loved to tease you, so he insisted sex was still beyond the limitations of his current physical capabilities.

He made you BEG to even sit here with him inside you. You hoped that would convince him to take it easy on you for the rest of this, but clearly, you'd overestimated your boyfriend's compassion.

"Why? You don't even have to move," you plead.

You don't have to see his face to know the gleam of amusement his eyes hold and the smirk that spreads over his lips.

"Sure, sure. Cause you never get tired halfway through being on top and start whining for me to take over," he mocks, "I know that'd be the next thing you ask for."

"I won't," you defend, "Please just let me move... I need it."

You look over your shoulder now and catch sight of the stupid look you'd envisioned in your head. Those pretty blue eyes gaze up at you, his ego clear in each cerulean fleck. His hands below knead the soft muscles of your ass. They dig into the flesh and rub at your thighs too. The touches send tingles straight to the pit of your belly, more arousal leaking from you in response.

"I don't know... It's bad enough you're not letting me rest properly, but now this? Seems like you're asking for a lot," he goads.

Anguish plumes in your chest. You nearly topple forward and smoosh your face into the blankets, the urge to kick and pound your fists on the bed insurmountable. Instead, your hands clasp around his meaty thighs. You squeeze as if that could give you the will to remain motionless. If you moved before he gave you permission, you weren't sure you'd see another orgasm this year.

"Dick, come on," you beg, head hanging, "Why do you hate me?"

That gets a hearty laugh out of him. His palms smooth up your sides to hold your waist.

"Don't try to guilt trip me, babe. You're not very good at it," he says. The pads of his fingertips massage your curves in tiny strokes. "You can wait a little longer."

"You've already made me wait so long. It hurts," you plead. If guilt wouldn't work, maybe sympathy will.

"Oh, does it? I think that's just your pride, sweetheart. You're acting so pathetic for me right now," he teases.

You didn't know what to try next. More broken cries tumble from your lips. In truth, waiting didn't hurt, but it was growing uncomfortable. The slick between your legs was sticky, and you wanted to get away from it by bouncing up and down. His length had been sitting inside you for so long it felt like a word you'd said too many times. The only way to forget about it would be to fuck yourself silly on top of him.

But he stays true to his word. He makes you wait. You sit on top of him for you don't even know how long. Occasionally, he shifts his hips, acting as if he just needs to get comfortable; the motion strikes one of your pleasure spots every time though.

You bite your lip, trying to not lose it. If this continued at this rate, you'd be in tears soon, which you really wanted to avoid as they would only make him more merciless.

Regardless of your wishes though, you can feel them starting to bloom in your eyes. Frustration burns like fire in your lungs. You turn your head to look at him again, wanting to try one more time to reason before you fully break down.

That plan goes out the window though when you see this man on his phone. He lounges there, scrolling through whatever without a care in the world.

"Dick!" you cry, a couple tears spilling over your water line.

His eyes flit up to your face just as your arm swings back to swat him. He catches your wrist, amusement pulling at his lips.

"Swinging at me when I'm wounded?" he mocks.

He softens the smallest bit when he sees the tears, bringing his hand up to swipe them away with his thumb. You sniffle at the gesture. Your lip wobbles with the desire to unleash more humiliating noises.

"What're the tears for, pretty girl? You really wanna move that bad?" he croons, dragging the bow of his index finger down your jawline.

You nod, eyes casting down in shame.

Knowing laughter bubbles up from his lips. His finger tilts your chin upwards, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"Let me hear you ask nicely one more time," he says.

You almost crumble on top of him right then, but you can't lose it when you're so close. With a deep inhale, you suck it up and bat your eyes a few times.

"Please?"

He grins at you and taps your hip. "Turn around for me and then go ahead."

Eager as can be, you clamber around and situate yourself so that you're facing him. Your legs quiver. It felt unusual to move after being full and seated for a while. When you're settled, plush thighs pressed against his sculpted sides, you plant your hands on his chest.

You don't waste time before rising up and sinking back down. A strangled moan falls from your lips at the relief. Some of the tension that had webbed up in the pit of your belly begins to loosen as you bounce.

His hands land on your hips, guiding your movements into a steady rhythm. You can tell he's enjoying it too from how he sighs and the way his jaw clenches.

"That's it. Worth the wait?" he asks.

"Mhm," you whimper.

Your ass smacks against his pelvis over and over. The sound of skin on skin fills the bedroom along with your combined grunting and moaning. You roll your hips, getting him as deep as possible. Your spine arches in tandem with your head falling back.

He takes advantage of the view you're giving him, one of his hands rising to grope at your breast. His fingers cradle the mound as the rest of you continues rutting on top of him. He flicks your nipple with his thumb, tearing more mewls from your lips with the bursts of sensation.

"Look at you, going dumb already. You're that needy for me?" he mocks, giving your stiffened bud a little pinch.

You yelp and nod, not bothering to defend yourself.

Your noises increase in volume as you continue to ride. Breathing likens into panting while shudders overcome your body. All of you convulses with each jump of your hips. It's getting harder to keep the pace, but you don't want to admit that. You don't want to prove him right.

It doesn't matter if you want that though because he can tell. He can see your motions getting jerkier. He feels the way your walls tighten around him with abandon.

To try and help you a little, he digs his heels into the mattress and thrusts up. Happy moans echo from you, your lips widening into a smile. He can't help but match the expression. This was his favorite sight in the world, his pretty girl blissed out. Nothing on your mind but him.

Without waiting for you to say the word, he boosts you up and flips you onto your back on the mattress. He springs to his feet beside the bed. Pulling you by your hips, your pelvises meet at the edge, and he takes over thrusting.

His fingers press into your inner thighs as he maintains his grip. He plows into you faster than you had been going on top. Leaning forward, he bends you in half. Your thighs press against your chest. His body heat oozes all over you.

This position lets him slide deeper inside you than before. Each rock of his hips nudges his tip against a spot that makes you cry out. You would be seeing stars if not for the fact that your eyes are rolling back.

"So fucking greedy," he croons, "Always wanting more than you can take."

You whine in protest, hips weakly squirming under the weight of him. Blinking yourself back into focus, you try to conjure words to argue that you could take it. That he's the one who flipped you over.

But all you can muster is a pouty "You're so mean to me."

He laughs in your face before smacking a kiss on your quivering frown. "You love it. Being nice doesn't ever get you so wet," he mocks.

You can't help the way your cunt clenches around him at that, sucking him in further. He hisses in response and presses down on your legs harder. He's as far in you as can be now. Every thrust fills you up just how you like.

"Mhm, there you go. Nice and tight for me, baby," he teases. One of his arms wraps around your leg to thumb at your clit. You squeal at the fiery sensation and writhe against the blankets so much you may get friction burn.

He chuckles and continues speaking. "I'm only mean cause I have to be. If I let you have it your way, I don't think you'd ever get anything done. You're such a little slut. You want my cock all. the. time," he says, punctuating the last three words with particularly brutal thrusts.

Crying out, you nod. You just agree with what he's saying, not really taking in a word of it. As long as he didn't stop, you were content.

He continues slamming himself against you. The bed creaks from his rapid pace.

Your mouth hangs open at this point. Unfiltered sounds come out while he grits his teeth above you. His thumb keeps swirling over your sensitive little bundle of nerves all the while, dragging you closer to the edge.

"Dick!" you wail.

The hand on your clit leaves and clamps over your mouth instead. His forehead comes to rest against yours, his breaths fanning over your face.

"If you get us a noise complaint, you're gonna get used to just sitting on my cock," he says, "I won't go easy on you next time. You can cry all you want to, and it won't change a thing."

Your eyes flutter with lust. He could be so annoying, but fuck, you loved it. You knew Dick wasn't one for idle threats either. He'd have you sit on his lap all full and fidgety for hours if he wanted.

The image is all you need to spur you to the finish line. Your hips buck up against his, shaking violently as they seek out more pleasure.

He feels the way you tighten and release, massaging his shaft and beckoning him to do the same. A few thrusts later he gives in to the temptation. He drains himself inside you. Rope after rope of hot, sticky cum floods into your cunt. His head drops against your neck, silky black locks damp with sweat against your skin.

Both of you finish out with a few more lazy movements. In the afterglow of your passion, he lingers on top of you for a few more moments. His body remains dead weight, melted against your own.

When he finally finds the will to move, he kisses a trail from your shoulder up to your lips. The tender exchange makes the feel of him pulling out more bearable. Maybe he was right, maybe you are a little greedy. You'd just had him for all that time, but you still didn't want it to be over.

Either way, he flops down next to you. The teasing is gone from his eyes for now. His pupils hold a genuine look of adoration similar to the feeling in your chest. It's only a brief eclipse though because his mocking returns as he leans in to nip at your cheek.

"I think you cured me, babe. I'm feeling much better now," he says with his usual cocky smile.

[paarksunghoon]

Please please sunghoon with a size kink please ugh I need him so bad

ngnnfngf. I’m crazy for him.

***

“Look at you,” Sunghoon coos when he hovers his naked body over yours. It makes you feel like he’s inspecting you, making you feel much smaller than you are but you can’t say you don’t love it. His hands push out to touch your soft breasts before dragging it down the side of your body, prying your legs open wider.

He takes ahold of his cock and spreads his precum onto himself, stroking with the flick of his wrist expertly. Sunghoon swipes the head with the pad of his thumb when he watches you constrict around nothing and lets a wad of spit fall from his mouth until it glistens over your folds.

Sunghoon looks at you with a mixture of awe and disbelief. He grabs the base of his cock until it situates on your pussy. The warmth of your skin makes Sunghoon feel like he might as well be set aflame. The skin on skin contact makes his shoulders feel weaker by the minute and it doesn’t help that you’re looking at him like he’s what you dream of.

“You have such a tiny pussy.” His cock jumps at the observation, tip nudging your clit softly. “I don’t know if I’ll fit.”

With his grip, Sunghoon glides his dick between your folds and pushes back enough just for the head to catch in your hole. He does it again and again until he throws his head back in pleasure, loving the way your wet sounds echo throughout the room.

Should he be doing this with you right now? Probably not. But you looked so good tonight that he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take you back to his hotel room when he saw you wearing that number he liked so much.

Even now, with your body underneath his, does Sunghoon think you look divine as ever. He pushes the head into you and uses his fingers to keep it there and watches your pussy envelope him with ease. He looks so big like this, even with just a little bit of himself inside of you.

“God, you’re so fucking tiny around me. How’s my cock gonna fuck you properly if you can’t even take my tip?”

His words make you gush arousal. Sunghoon stands higher on his knees and pushes another inch inside of you before he feels you clenching around him. His restraint flies out the window and he pushes the rest of his cock inside of you, savoring the intense moan that comes from deep within your body when he does so.

“I’ll make my cock fit into your pussy, baby. Don’t worry.”

It’s not enough for Sunghoon to be wrapped up in you. Instead, he thrusts hastily a few times before pulling you up off of the bed with his cock still inside you and pushes your hips against him with your legs dangling on either side of his body, enjoying the sound of your skin slapping against his. Sunghoon walks to where the large wall mirror is and fucks you right in front of him, watching as your back muscles tighten every time he impales you with his big, hard dick.

Sunghoon grips your ass for balance and digs his fingertips into your meaty flesh when you cling onto him. Seeing your size difference turns him on in ways he can’t describe, loving the way he overpowers you completely. You’re at his complete mercy with the way you’re clawing at his biceps and hanging onto him like you’re afraid he’ll drop you and stop fucking you. He has no intentions to quit right now.

He watches the way his balls constrict in the mirror every time you clench so hard that his cock nearly falls out of you. It’s so hot that Sunghoon moans right into your mouth when he kisses you, shoving his tongue against yours to elevate his orgasm. He feels you creaming around him already with the angle he’s holding you at and he’s sure your body has fallen limp from the pleasure and grip he has on you.

His legs start to burn after fucking you in this standing position for a while but it doesn’t deter him. Your body that barely covers his in the mirror aids his orgasm, pushing him across the finish line as he widens his stance and fucks into your pussy without any constraint.

He doesn’t stop thrusting even when his cum starts to ooze from between your bodies. It drips down to his thighs and he pushes his hips until his cock becomes soft. You move your head to kiss him, pulling his attention away from the mirror as your pillowy lips distract him from the sight before him.

When the two of you have caught your breath, Sunghoon looks back at the mirror and watches as he lifts your body off of his cock with ease. You wince at the loss and he kisses the corner of your mouth as if to sooth you from the lack of him in you.

“So good for me,” Sunghoon whispers against your mouth.

[uhohdad]

Loser!König tracks your cycle to cater to your needs, convinced it will help you see him as the perfect lover. He’s extra attentive during the emotionally tolling week leading up to your period. Listening intently to your venting, forcing his harsh voice to a soothing tone, taking arduous chores from your plate. You think it’s just a coincidence that he always seems to know when you’re craving your favorite meal, could use a sweet treat, or need your comfort movie queued up across from an inviting, dryer-warmed blanket. You’ve also yet to question why you haven’t run out of supplies even though you haven’t bought tampons or pads in months.

Loser!König rams up the physical touch when you’re nearing ovulation. Standing a little too close, making you crane up at him, wearing clothes that emphasize his domineering figure. He wants to demonstrate how big and strong he is, how worthy he is of the title of your protector, your lover, the owner of your needy cunt. He’ll linger his hardened hands on the small of your back when he passes you in the kitchen. Brush his fingers casually along your bicep when he asks you an innocent question. Press his thigh to yours while unwinding on the couch for the evening. He’s trying to take advantage of your elevated state by flustering you with his touch, but your pheromones backfire on him every time. You drive him crazy, you’re just begging for him to grab you by the hips and fuck you until you’re seeing stars, begging for him to mark you as his own with a finish deep in your cunt, begging for him to satisfy your instinctual urge to be bred.

˚☽˚.⋆ KÖNIG DRABBLE MASTERLIST ⋆.˚☾˚

dividers @saradika

[doumadono]

Bakugo being a porn streamer (for Sinful Sunday)

Warnings: smut with plot, rough smut, pussy fingering and eating, cunnilingus, missionary, creampie, fem!reader, male masturbation, squirting, public sex, only fans & pornhub mentions, porn stream, Bakugo has OnlyFans account

A/N: this request got the second highest number of votes during the Sinful Sunday poll I held over a week ago. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The cityscape glowed like a thousand gems scattered across a dark velvet blanket, each light a testament to the life teeming below. 

Katsuki Bakugo strode through the bustling streets, the remnants of his patrol echoing in the satisfied murmurs of bystanders he had saved earlier. His fiery eyes scanned the horizon, mind already drifting to the solace awaiting him at home.

Reaching the sleek, modern building that housed his penthouse, Bakugo nodded curtly to the doorman and made his way to the private elevator. As the doors closed, he allowed a small, rare smile to touch his lips. 

It had been a good day — no major catastrophes, no near-death experiences. Just another day of being the best hero the world had ever seen.

The elevator chimed softly as it reached the top floor. 

Bakugo stepped into his luxurious apartment, the space a perfect blend of modernity and comfort. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city, and plush furnishings invited him to relax. He shed his hero gear with practiced efficiency, revealing the chiseled body beneath — one that had become almost as famous as his explosive quirk.

Padding barefoot across the cool hardwood floors, Bakugo headed to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He took a long drink, his thoughts wandering to his evening plans. 

It had started as a joke, really — a whim born from boredom and pure curiosity. One night, he had filmed himself getting off, his muscular body glistening with sweat, his deep, guttural moans echoing in the silent room. On a lark, he had uploaded the video to his old Pornhub, expecting nothing in particular.

To his surprise, the video had gone viral. Within days, he had amassed thousands of fans, all clamoring for more. At first, Bakugo was amused. Then intrigued. And finally, he saw an opportunity. He was a hot man — he knew that. And if people wanted to watch him, if it made them happy and he enjoyed it too, then why not?

With the success of his initial video, Bakugo had created an OnlyFans account, eager to capitalize on his newfound popularity. It had been an instant hit. Fans flocked to his page, eager to pay for the privilege of seeing him in more intimate, exclusive settings. The subscriptions rolled in, and Bakugo found himself enjoying the attention, the adoration. It was a different kind of thrill, but a thrill nonetheless.

Bakugo set the water bottle down and made his way to his bedroom. The room was dominated by a large, king-sized bed draped in dark, luxurious linens. A camera was set up on a tripod in one corner, pointed directly at the bed. He moved with confidence, stripping off his clothes and tossing them aside. Naked, he admired his reflection in the full-length mirror. His body was a testament to years of rigorous training — every muscle defined, every inch a work of art.

With practiced ease, Bakugo positioned himself on the bed, adjusting the camera angle until he was satisfied. He grabbed a small remote from the nightstand and turned on the camera. The red light blinked to life, and he took a deep breath, letting the anticipation build. This was his stage, his audience waiting eagerly on the other side of the screen.

He opened his laptop, navigating to his OnlyFans account. With a few clicks, he started a live stream, watching as the viewer count began to climb rapidly. The chat box exploded with messages, fans greeting him eagerly, their excitement palpable even through the screen.

"Hey, fucking perverts," he greeted, his voice low and rough, tinged with the cocky confidence that had made him a hero. "It's your favorite pro hero, back for another round."

He ran a hand down his chest, fingers tracing the hard lines of his abs. He knew exactly what his fans wanted, what they craved. And he was more than happy to give it to them. His hand continued its descent, skimming over the taut skin until it reached his cock. Already semi-hard, it twitched in his grasp, responding to his touch.

Bakugo leaned back against the pillows, spreading his legs slightly to give the camera a better view. He stroked himself slowly at first, his grip firm but teasing. He knew how to build the anticipation, how to draw it out until he was practically vibrating with need. "You like what you see?" he growled, eyes locked on the camera as if he could see his fans watching. "Bet you wish you could touch me, huh? Feel how hard I am for you, little perverts?"

The chat box lit up with eager responses, fans egging him on, praising his body, his performance.

God, you're so hot!

I've been waiting all day for this.

Take it slow, Dynamight, make it last!

His eyes scanned the comments, searching for one particular username: sweet_daisyxxx. Amid the flood of adoring messages, he spotted it.

sweet_daisyxxx: You look amazing tonight, Katsuki

A rush of heat surged through him at the sight of your comment. He smirked, a new surge of energy coursing through him. His hand moved faster, strokes becoming more insistent. Pleasure coiled in his belly, hot and demanding. He was stroking his cock from base to tip, picturing you moaning his name. 

For Bakugo, starting an OnlyFans account had been a natural progression from his initial success on Pornhub. He'd always had a hard time settling down, despite his status as a pro hero and his undeniable attractiveness. His standards were high — too high, perhaps — and no woman had ever met all his requirements. His relationships invariably ended in one-night stands, fleeting and unsatisfying.

He had begun to find solace in the digital realm, exploring the myriad of content creators on OnlyFans. He followed the accounts of the girls he found hot, drawn to their beauty and charisma. It was a distraction, an addiction of sorts, but one he didn't mind. It filled a void that real-life encounters couldn't, offering a tantalizing escape from the pressures of heroism.

Then he came across your account. It was different from the rest. Yes, you were a camgirl yourself, you had a beautiful body, a captivating presence, but what set you apart was your approach. You didn't reveal everything, always touching yourself through the thin material of your lacy panties, always keeping your face off the camera, maintaining an air of mystery and intrigue while you played with yourself. Your streams were a mix of sensuality and intellect as you were trying to engage your small but dedicated follower count in discussions about literature, history, fashion, and the changing world. You were a tease, undoubtedly, but it was your depth that held him captive. Bakugo lingered on your page longer than he intended, entranced by your intelligence and charm. Your body was a work of art, but it was your mind that ensnared him. Not to mention you happened to be his biggest fan.

sweet_daisyxxx: Those muscles look even better up close. You're incredible, Katsuki

His eyes flicked back to the chat, watching as your other comments rolled in. 

sweet_daisyxxx: That growl you made just now? So hoooot, oh Gosh... Don't stop

Bakugo was incredibly turned on, imagining the taste and feel of licking your cunny. Even though he had never truly seen your pussy, the lingerie you wore on your streams left little to the imagination, perfectly outlining the curves of your folds. He couldn't help but think your pussy must be the prettiest one. What sounds would you make riding his tongue? Where would you want him to cum? On your face? Mouth? Tits? Maybe you would want him to save it for your pussy?

sweet_daisyxxx: Wish I could be there to touch you, feel every inch of you

His breath hitched, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He could feel himself getting close, the familiar tension building with every stroke. His fans loved it when he talked dirty, loved the way he lost control on camera. And tonight, he was more than willing to give them a show. "Shit, I'm so close," he groaned, head falling back against the pillows. "You want to see me come undone, don't you? You want to watch me lose it for you?" His hips thrust faster into his rough palm.

He worked on his dick energetically, holding his balls tight in his free hand, squeezing them from time to time. He moaned from the pleasure radiating from his throbbing dick. He could almost hear his fans' reactions, the collective intake of breath, the eager anticipation. And that thought pushed him over the edge. With a final, desperate thrust, he came, his seed hot and sticky over his hand and stomach. It gushed and bubbled through the wet tip of his throbbing dick, leaving a slick trail on his toned abs as he continued to thrust into his clenched fist. Spurt, spurt. The sensation seemed endless. Katsuki's breath hitched with relief, and his hips finally began to slow. Though his balls were drained, they kept clenching, desperate to empty every last drop of his cum. His head rolled back, mouth hanging open as he panted through the final throes of one of the strongest orgasms of his life.

sweet_daisyxxx: Yes, Katsuki, just like that. So hot. You're perfect

Bakugo lay there for a moment, chest heaving, heart pounding. He let the camera capture every second, every twitch of aftershock. When he finally moved, it was with a lazy, satisfied grin. He reached for a towel and cleaned himself up, his eyes never leaving the camera.

But even in the haze of post-orgasmic bliss, Bakugo’s crimson eyes returned to the chat, seeking your username again.

sweet_daisyxxx: That was incredible, Mr Pro Hero. Can't wait for next time ♥

He smirked, feeling a sense of satisfaction beyond the physical release. You were more than just another fan. And you intrigued him.

"Hope you enjoyed the show," he said, voice still husky with the remnants of pleasure, his words directed toward you from all of his fans. "I'll see you next time."

He ended the live stream and lay back against the pillows, a sense of contentment settling over him. This was his life — a hero by day, a star of OnlyFans by night. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Bakugo lay back against the pillows, his body still thrumming with the afterglow of release. The chat window on his laptop blinked out, and he reached over to close it, his thoughts already drifting to the next interaction he craved. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he navigated to his messages.

He found your name quickly — sweet_daisyxxx. 

Your conversations had become a regular part of his routine, an escape from the relentless demands of hero work and the empty satisfaction of countless one-night stands. With you, it was different. You talked about things that mattered, things that challenged his mind and made him feel alive in ways he hadn't expected.

Horny_Dynamight: Wanna FaceTime?

There was a brief pause before your response came in.

sweet_daisyxxx: m’kay, give me a min

He waited, the seconds ticking by with a tense anticipation. Finally, his phone buzzed with the incoming call. He accepted, and your face filled the screen, your eyes bright with excitement.

You were seated in your gamer chair, the fitted black tank top you wore accentuating your curves. Your earbuds were in, and as you settled into the call, Bakugo couldn't stop his eyes from drifting downward, where the neckline of your top revealed the top of your beautiful breasts. The soft swell of your cleavage was tantalizing, and he felt a familiar heat stir within him.

"Hey, handsome," you greeted, your voice steady despite the underlying tension.

"Hey, hottie," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "So, how'd you really like the stream?"

You bit your lip, a teasing smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "It was amazing, Katsuki. You looked incredible. And the way you touched yourself… It was so hot."

His smirk widened. "Glad you think so." He paused, studying your face, the way your eyes sparkled with curiosity. "I was thinking, would ya like to join my next stream?"

You blinked, taken aback. "Join? How?"

He didn't hesitate, his response blunt and to the point. "For some nice fucking."

Your eyes widened, shock and excitement warring for dominance on your face. "Are you serious, Kats? I think I’m far outta your league…"

"Dead serious," he confirmed, his gaze never wavering. "We've been dancing around this for way too long. I want you on my stream. With me. In every way, Y/N. I can’t stop thinking about ya, for fuck’s sake."

You stared at him, the silence stretching out as you processed his proposition. 

He wondered if he had pushed too far, if maybe he had read the situation wrong. 

But then, your expression shifted, a slow smile spreading across your face. "Okay," you said softly. "When?"

His heart leaped, a fierce grin spreading across his face. He hadn't expected you to agree so quickly, but then again, you had always surprised him. "Tomorrow night. Same time. My place."

"Ok, but you’ll have to pick me up," you replied with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

When you finally hung up, Bakugo felt a sense of satisfaction settle over him. Tomorrow night would be a game-changer, a step into new territory that he was eager to explore. With you.

The next day, Bakugo's routine went by in a haze of expectation. His patrols were efficient but mechanical, his thoughts constantly returning to the evening ahead. He had spent the day thinking about it, every spare moment filled with thoughts of you, of finally meeting the person who had occupied his thoughts for so long. Katsuki pushed himself harder in the gym, needing the physical exertion to keep his mind from spiraling into endless scenarios of what might happen. 

When the day finally drew to a close, he found himself back in his apartment, preparing for what felt like both a stream and a date. He made sure everything was perfect — the camera angles, the lighting, the room itself. And then, he drove to pick you up from the mall you set up as a meeting place.

Bakugo's heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nerves as he drove to the mall. This was the first time he was going to see you in real life, and the anticipation was almost too much to bear. 

He pulled into the parking lot, finding a spot near the entrance. As he stepped out of the car, he adjusted his black, leather jacket, trying to look as casual as possible despite the literal butterflies in his stomach. He scanned the crowd, looking for you, knowing you would stand out even among the bustling shoppers.

And there you were, waiting near the fountain in the center of the plaza. You wore a girly white summer dress with a delicate floral motif, the fabric swaying gently with the breeze. Your white sneakers added a touch of casual charm to your appearance. As you spotted him, your face lit up with a bright smile, and your cheeks turned slightly pink with a blush.

Bakugo made his way over to you, his heart pounding harder with each step. When he finally stood in front of you, he could hardly believe it. You were even more beautiful in person. "Hey," he said after clearing his throat, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.

"Hey, Katsuki," you replied, your voice soft and filled with excitement. "It's so good to finally see you in person, Mr Dynamight.”

He nodded, his eyes taking in every detail of you, from the way your dress clung to your figure to the sparkle in your eyes. "Yeah, it is."

There was a moment of silence as the two of you took each other in, the reality of the moment sinking in. Then, with a smirk, Bakugo extended his hand. "Ready to get out of here?"

"Absolutely,” you replied, taking his palm as if you two were a real couple.

He led you to his car, opening the door for you before getting in himself. 

As he drove, the conversation flowed easily, just like it did during your calls. You talked about everything and nothing, the comfort between you growing with each passing mile.

Bakugo couldn't help but steal glances at you as he drove. The way your dress highlighted all of your curves, the way the sun caught your hair, the way your laughter filled the car with warmth — it was all purely intoxicating. He reached over, his rough, large hand resting on your thigh. 

You glanced at him, a playful smile on your lips. "Can't keep your hands to yourself, huh?"

He smirked, his grip tightening slightly. "Nope. And I don't plan to, sweet doll."

His touch was firm, possessive, his fingers occasionally squeezing gently and brushing your soft skin as he navigated the streets. Every time his hand moved, it sent a shiver of anticipation through you, the promise of what was to come making your heart race.

Finally, you arrived at his apartment. Bakugo parked and turned to you, his expression serious. "You sure you're okay with this?"

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "More than okay, Katsuki. I've been looking forward to this, actually. I just… It’s been a while since…”

“Hush, no worries, I’ll be gentle,” he whispered softly, reaching his hand out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing slightly against your lower lip as he gazed into your eyes. With a nod, he led you inside the apartment. 

The moment the door closed behind you, the atmosphere shifted. The tension that had been building all day exploded into action. 

Bakugo reached for you, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you fiercely, all the pent-up desire pouring into that single moment.

You responded immediately, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervor. 

Your bodies pressed tightly together. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the raw need in his touch.

Bakugo's hands roamed down your sides, pulling you even closer until there was no space between you. 

You could feel the hardness growing in his pants, pressing insistently against your lower abdomen as he pushed you on the nearest wall. 

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this." His hands moved to your waist, lifting you effortlessly as he walked towards the bedroom with you in his arms.

You wrapped your legs around him, the movement causing the bulge in his pants to press even more firmly against your clothed pussy. The friction made you moan, the sound driving him wild.

Bakugo kicked the bedroom door open, setting you down on the edge of the bed. He stepped back for a moment, his eyes raking over you with a look of pure hunger. "You look so fucking good," he said, his voice low and rough.

You blushed, but there was a playful glint in your eyes as you whispered teasingly, "Why don't you come over here and show me just how good?"

With a growl of satisfaction, Bakugo was on you in an instant, his mouth capturing yours once more. His hands moved with purpose, slipping under your dress to caress your soft skin. He paused, taking in the sight of you in your underwear. "Beautiful," he murmured, his hands tracing the curves of your body.

You got up and reached for him, pulling his leather jacket off and tossing it aside before working on the buttons of his shirt. His skin was warm and firm under your touch, the muscles rippling as you pushed the fabric off his shoulders. He helped you, impatient to feel your hands on him.

Once his shirt was off, you traced your fingers over his chest, marveling at the hard lines and defined muscles. "You're incredible, Katsuki," you said softly, your eyes meeting his.

He grinned, his hands moving to unbutton his pants. "You haven't seen anything yet."

As his pants hit the floor, your eyes were drawn to the impressive bulge pressing against his underwear. He moved closer, his lips locking with yours in a searing kiss while his body pressed tightly against yours. The feel of his firmness against you, combined with the fervor of his kiss, left your head reeling.

Bakugo murmured, "You know what I want to show on the stream?"

You shivered at the rough timbre of his voice. "What?"

"Mostly eating you out," he growled, his hand moving to caress your inner thigh, "and fucking you until you can't think straight."

Your breath hitched, the bluntness of his words sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. “Are… Are you sure?" you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation.

"Yeah," he said, his eyes dark with desire. "I want everyone to see how good you can make me feel. How much we both want it."

You swallowed hard, the intensity of his gaze making you feel like you were burning from the inside out. "Katsuki..."

He kissed you again, hard and possessive. "So, what do you say?" he murmured against your lips. "You in?"

You nodded, your mind a whirl of desire and anticipation. "I'm in. Just…”

"Oh, quit being shy, doll. Just because you haven't shown yourself on cam yet doesn't mean you're a saint. We both know you're not. I still remember you moaning on the phone, telling me how you'd suck my dick during one of our calls."

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing heart. "Katsuki, I... I don't want my face shown on the stream."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "Why not? Are you ashamed of my idea?"

You shook your head quickly, cupping his face in your hands. "No, it's not that. I just... I don't think you want to be associated with an OnlyFans girl later. It could cause trouble for you. You’re a hero after all..."

His expression softened, and he cupped your cheeks in his rough hands. "I don't care about your fucking profession, doll," he said firmly. "I've developed feelings for you. You're more than a one-night stand for me."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his eyes making your breath catch. "Katsuki..."

He kissed you deeply, his lips conveying everything he couldn't put into words. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. "We'll do it your way. No face. I want this to be good for both of us."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "Thank you, Katsuki. This means a lot to me."

He grinned, his hands sliding down to your waist. "Now, let's make this the best stream anyone's ever seen."

Bakugo adjusted the camera one last time, ensuring it was angled just right. He made sure only a slight part of your neck would be visible, keeping your identity safe while still capturing the raw passion of the moment. The red light blinked on, indicating the stream was live. He turned to the camera, his usual smirk in place. "Hey, fuckers," he greeted, his voice low and confident. "Got a special stream for you tonight."

Immediately, the chat exploded with messages, the viewers' excitement palpable even through the screen.

Bakugo! Who's the girl?

Is this for real? Bakugo's got someone with him?

Holy shit, this is gonna be epic!

Introduce her! What's her name?!!

Is she your girlfriend?!! omg Dynamight has a gf? I’m heartbroken!!!

We need details, Dynamight!

Bakugo glanced at the comments, his smirk widening as he saw the flood of questions about you. He enjoyed the attention. "Calm down, fucking idiots," he said, his voice a growl that only seemed to stoke the fire in the chat. "You'll get what you came for. That’s all. My girlfriend’s face stays out of the frame. Got it?"

You gasped as you realized he called you his girlfriend.

The chat buzzed even more, curiosity and excitement mingling in the rapid-fire messages.

Why hide her face?

Is she that shy?

Come on, Bakugo, just a glimpse!

Gosh, he said she is his gf, rip to my feelings :(

Damn, this is hot already

Just fuck that cunt already man

Ignoring the more insistent demands, Bakugo turned to you, his crimson eyes dark with desire. He leaned in, his rough, large hand resting on your thigh as he whispered in your ear. "Ready to give them a show?"

You nodded, your heart racing. "More than ready...."

With a growl of satisfaction, Bakugo's lips crashed onto yours, the kiss fierce and demanding. His hands moved with purpose, slipping under the hem of your dress and slowly lifting it over your head. “Lay down and relax,” he commanded in a whisper.

The cool air hit your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, but his touch quickly warmed you up. You obliged and lay down on his bed.

He broke the kiss just long enough to pull the dress off completely, tossing it aside before capturing your lips again. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve with a desperate need. 

You could feel the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of your underwear, his fingers tracing the lines of your body with an intensity that made your head spin.

Bakugo's hands moved to your back, deftly unclasping your bra and tossing it to the floor. He pulled back slightly, his eyes raking over you with a look of pure hunger. "So fucking beautiful," he murmured, his hands moving to cup your breasts.

You gasped as his rough palms squeezed them gently, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your back arching slightly in response. He leaned down, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of your neck as he continued to fondle your breasts, his touch both firm and gentle.

"Katsuki," you moaned quietly, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, the anticipation of what was to come making your body ache with need.

His mouth moved lower, his lips and tongue tracing a path down your neck to your collarbone. "I want to make you feel so good," he growled against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. "I want everyone to see how much you need this."

You whimpered in response, your body trembling with desire. 

His hands continued to explore, one moving to your waist while the other remained on your breast, squeezing and teasing your nipple. Bakugo's mouth soon found your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before sucking it into his mouth. 

You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, the pleasure almost too much to bear. 

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his hands and mouth working together to drive you to the edge.

The camera captured every moment, the slight part of your neck and the intensity of Bakugo's actions visible to his eager audience. The thought of being watched only heightened your arousal, the exhibitionism adding a new layer of excitement to the experience.

The chat was a blur of comments, the viewers enraptured by the display.

Damn, she's loving it!

Bakugo, you're a beast!

This is insane! More, more!

I can't take my eyes off this

Lucky girl, getting all of Dynamight’s attention

Bakugo pulled back, his eyes meeting yours with a look of pure desire. "I can't wait any longer," he growled, his hands moving to the waistband of your panties. He leaned forward, caught the waistband with his teeth and slid them down your legs, the fabric pooling on the bed as he knelt between your legs. He kissed his way up your thigh, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady. "I'm going to make you come so hard on my fucking mouth," he promised, his breath hot against your skin. "And everyone is going to see how much you love it."

He pushed your legs further apart, exposing your glistening folds to the camera. The sight was mesmerizing, your arousal clear and inviting. Bakugo's eyes darkened with hunger as he took in the view, his fingers gently parting your folds to give the viewers a better look. "Look at that," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "So fucking pretty, and all fucking mine."

The chat went wild, the viewers unable to contain their excitement.

OMG, her pussy is beautiful ♥♥♥

Bakugo, you're a lucky bastard! I’m so gay for that bitch

This is the hottest thing I've ever seen

Look at those curves!

I can't believe this is happening live!

Ignoring the comments, Bakugo leaned in, his breath hot against your sensitive folds. 

Your pussy was tight and firm. It was flushed with your desire, and its lips were damp with your slickness. 

Your scent filled his nostrils and Bakugo growled as his cock twitched in his boxers, aching to be freed.

The first touch of his tongue sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, your back arching as you cried out his name. His mouth worked expertly, his tongue and lips finding every sensitive spot as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

His tongue reached out and gently licked from the bottom of one side up to the top. He flicked the pearl of your clit and then licked back up the other side of your lips before flicking it again. Bakugo placed his tongue at the base of your slit and slid it up between your puffy lips. He tasted and felt your juices pool on his flexed tongue as it slid up. 

You tasted so good, so sweet. 

His lips closed over your clitoris and he sucked on it, drawing a gasp from you and a buck of your hips. Bakugo pulled your pussy lips into his mouth and sucked hard on them. His warm tongue went as far inside you as he could reach.

Your juices coated his chin. 

He slid his mouth back up to your clit and eased a finger inside you. He growled against you, the vibrations making your legs shake.

Your lips parted slightly as his thick, rough middle finger slid in between the folds of your pussy. 

It reached in and he curled it up till he hit the top of your pussy. He yet again sucked your clit into his lips hard. 

Suddenly, your legs squeezed together, trembling. “Katsuki,” you whined, arching your back.

Katsuki sucked hard on your clit, his teeth teased it and he flicked it with the tip of his tongue as he slipped two more fingers into your pussy. Soon, they were coated with your translucent slickness.

He kissed your pussy lips and sucked up all of your juices. The nectar from your climax covered his face and hand. It was delicious and he smiled as he looked up from between your legs. 

"Katsuki…" you moaned, your fingers tangling in his ash-blonde hair as you pulled him closer, the need for release almost unbearable as you ground your pussy against his face. Your body tensed, your back arching as the pleasure crashed over you in waves, your cries filling the room. 

Bakugo didn't stop, his tongue continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were left trembling and breathless; your juices spilling on his tongue, overlaying his mouth and chin as he drank all of your essence.

The chat was in a frenzy, the viewers unable to contain their excitement.

OMG, that was intense!

Bakugo, you're a god

I need a cold shower after this

More, more, more!

This is the best stream ever Shhiiit her moans are hot

Fuck, she super hot, you’re lucky, man

Bakugo pulled back, his lips glistening with your juices as he looked up at you with a satisfied smirk. Bakugo stood up, his hands moving to the waistband of his black Calvin Klein boxers as he undressed quickly, his eyes never leaving yours. He stepped out of his underwear, his hard length springing free. 

You licked your lips, the sight of him making your mouth water with anticipation.

He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs as he looked down at you with a possessive hunger. "I'm going to fuck you so hard," he promised, his voice a low growl. Ever so slowly he pressed the leaking tip of his cock to the opening of your pussy.

"Ohhh fuck," you whimpered as Bakugo gradually penetrated your entrance. You sucked in a breath and opened your legs wider to grant him better access. 

So slowly he pushed his cock further in until he was fully sheathed inside of you. Bakugo left his other hand at your throat as he began a slow pace, sliding almost completely away from you before plunging back in. 

You moaned deeply, relishing the searing hardness of his arousal. Your velvety walls clenched tightly around him, drawing a slight widening of his eyes in response to your movements. His arousal felt like forged steel as he continued to thrust vigorously in and out of you. Your desire had escalated to the point where it now glistened on the insides of your thighs and his toned abdomen, the soft, wet sounds filling the air each time he withdrew and then thrust back into your cunny.

Bakugo's lips captured yours passionately, his kiss fervent and insistent. He nipped at your tongue and the corners of your mouth, each bite sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you, melding the physical intensity with a deep, consuming heat.

A sharp yank on his blonde strands pulled his mouth from yours, and you looked into his crimson eyes. “Harder,” you begged.

Bakugo’s face transformed from an expression of animalistic need to one of desperate pleasure. He set a relentless pace, his hips driving into you with a fierce intensity. 

Sweat began to slide in droplets between his shoulder blades and broke out over his forehead. A single drop fell from the tip of his nose and splashed onto your soft belly and you gasped. 

Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the pleasure building with each thrust.

Withdrawing, Balugo moved back into your tight pussy with full force again, and again. He sunk his teeth into the red mark he had made earlier where your neck met your shoulder and moved his body roughly against yours.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, somehow pulling him deeper into your pussy, causing small moans to fall from your lips uncontrollably.

"Katsuki, I'm going to come again," you whined, your body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure.

"Do it," he growled, his hips pistoning into you even harder. "Come for me. Let everyone see how much you need this."

With a final, powerful thrust, you shattered, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as your orgasm ripped through your entire being. You were trembling and quivering as Bakugo rubbed your slick clit faster and faster, making you squirm as you orgasmed. Your toes curled and uncurled with each movement, your pussy dripping wet as his massive cock hit your cervix with every thrust. Your breathing grew heavy, moans escalating in volume until you were screaming his name. Your entire body shook, legs trembling, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. Your pussy dripped, juices spraying the bed and Katsuki's abdomen, the bed squeaking loudly, rocking with the force of his thrusts as you squirted. “Fuck!”

Bakugo thrust madly, groaning as he felt the tightness of your pussy around his cock begin to ripple. He cried out a string of curses as his cock spurted in a mighty gush. He thrust thrice more, cumming with each push until he was absolutely spent, milking your velvety walls with his creamy, thick semen.

As the aftershocks of your orgasms subsided, Bakugo leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. "You're incredible," he murmured against your lips, his hands cupping your face gently.

"So are you," you replied, your heart swelling with affection as you ran your hands though his messy hair.

Bakugo gradually withdrew, his movements deliberate and slow, savoring the last vestiges of intimacy. He watched with a mixture of pride and amusement as his thick cum began to dribble out from your spent pussy, staining his bedsheets. His gaze was intense, capturing every moment with a fierce satisfaction. Ensuring that every second was visible to his viewers, he turned slightly. "How'd you like that, fucking perverts?" he asked his viewers, his voice rough with satisfaction.

The screen was flooded with emojis, exclamations, and messages that scrolled past almost too fast to read. Fans were expressing their thrill and approval, many praising Bakugo's intensity and the raw, unfiltered passion of the display. Some commented on the sheer boldness. It was clear that Bakugo's actions had struck a chord, igniting a fervent buzz among the viewers.

Wow, Bakugo you never disappoint! Absolute legend! 🔥🔥🔥

What a beautiful squirt! That was INTENSE! Way to go, Katsuki!! 💥💥 😱 Can't believe what I just saw! This is why Bakugo's the best! Dude, that was wild!! 🌋 Loved every second of it!

Loved that, absolutely killed it Bakugo! Can’t wait for more! Ur girl is fucking lucky

Bakugo glanced back at you, and asked simply, "So? Ready for another round?"

[please-destroy]

Mittens

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

.

Tony laughed loudly when he first saw the grey woollen hat. 

It had a white pom pom on the end and Tony snorted when he caught sight of it bouncing.

Natasha paused momentarily and her eyes flickered over to him, sipping coffee as he read over a Stark Pad.

‘Sorry.’ He grinned unashamedly. ‘It’s just not very Black Widow.’

Natasha rolled her eyes pointedly, before letting your hesitant tug on her hand pull her away.

In the elevator, you watched the quiet embarrassment roll through her. Natasha regarded herself in the mirrored walls as you descended the skyscraper. Her eyes lingered on the hat. 

Her gaze wasn’t critical. You almost wished it was. There was something childish in her vulnerability. You read the indecision in the way she bit her lip. 

Your heart seized with a strange sadness. You’d never really seen how Natasha viewed herself, not until then. Tony’s comment had thrown her completely off.

Just before you reached the ground floor, Natasha’s hand raised to remove the hat. You instinctively lifted your fingers to brush her wrist. She froze at your touch.

‘Leave it.’ You murmured, taking the moment for a brief kiss of her cheek. ‘You look great.’

Her voice was husky in uncertain disagreement.

‘I look ridiculous.’

‘You look cute.’ You promised truthfully, your lips lingering next to her cheek. ‘That’s not a crime.’

Natasha took a small breath and you heard the shakiness of it. Your arm wrapped around her side. 

You met her gaze in the mirror, just before the doors parted.

‘Cute.’ You repeated, enjoying the way her eyes sparkled as her smile returned. 

.

You couldn’t be certain, but you had a suspicion that the moment in the elevator didn’t leave Natasha’s mind. You knew for sure that it didn’t leave yours.

You settled together into your planned day of Christmas shopping as you wandered through the cold, busy streets. You passed a clothes store with a large winter sale on, and both slowed down to peer into the window. Inside the store, you walked thoughtlessly in sync. Together, you roamed through the aisles with that easy familiarity that comes with time. 

When you found the mittens, you held them up questioningly to her. They were the same silver grey as her woolen hat.

Natasha’s face smoothed immediately. You watched her begin to dismiss your suggestion automatically as a joke. 

Then, you saw the same lingering uncertainty return to her face.

‘I don’t know.’ She admitted suddenly and her voice was raw. 

Customers weaved around you, uninterested in anything but the retail deals on offer.

‘I’ve never had mittens before.’ Natasha told you, unwarranted embarrassment flitting into her expression. 

Your stomach flipped and you didn’t know why. Maybe it was her shyness at such a minor secret.

‘Then, these are a must buy.’ You determined with sudden decisiveness, taking her hand and leading her to the checkout.

.

The cashier easily read your relationship as you approached the counter. Despite the bustle around you, she gave you both a small smile, handing the mittens purposefully over to Natasha.

Maybe it was the cold, but Natasha’s cheeks were glowing pink before you’d left the store.

Her woolen mittens matched her hat. Her pleased smile matched her eyes.

That was when you decided that the day was going to be something else.

.

Natasha’s brow furrowed in confusion when your course altered. You led her purposefully across the busy street, away from the storefronts. 

She first protested as you weaved through the pop up stalls, selling anything from winter themed street-food to Christmas tree baubles. She reminded you about the presents that you both still needed to buy.

As you approached the ice rink, Natasha stopped in her tracks entirely. She stood a few feet away from you with wide eyes.

Her head shook slowly. 

‘No.’ She whispered, her mittens slipping self consciously into her coat pockets. ‘I don’t know how.’

You shrugged, keeping your eyes steady on her.

‘We don’t have to.’ You promised, never wanting to scare her. 

You closed the distance between you carefully. Natasha’s lips were pressed together. The same nervous indecision worried her expression. 

‘I don’t know how.’ She repeated in a small voice, the words almost an apology.

You brushed her shoulders gently.

‘That’s not a crime.’ You hummed softly. ‘Do you want to try?’

Natasha’s stare was sudden and piercing. There was something unashamed now about her exposed vulnerability. She didn’t mind that you had seen her quiet fear.  

Pride stamped your chest as you realised that Natasha knew you were on her team.

You anticipated her answer before she said it.

Before anything else, Natasha was brave.

‘Okay.’ She determined, a soft mitten seeking out your own gloved hand.

.

The next few minutes moved with surprising simplicity. You brought back the skates from the rental desk.

You laced up your pair quickly, excited to get on the ice.

Natasha started laughing gently beside you.

You looked over and caught her grin. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. She raised her mittened hands helplessly and you started smiling too.

You knelt before her, tying up her laces with extra care. 

‘Thank you.’ Natasha murmured as you finished. You glanced up, surprised by the rush of warmth you felt from her gaze. 

A mitten brushed your cheek softly, and you felt your smile widen at the touch.

.

As you stepped onto the ice, Natasha’s grip was tight on your hand. 

The fairy lights above threaded together like a wedding arch.

You took an extra step forward, ready to skate. 

Natasha hesitated and you turned around, ready to skate slowly backwards as she practiced.

Your breath caught as you watched the lights sparkle in her eyes. The green and gold dappled together and Natasha seemed ethereal.

You could read the worry on her face before she said it aloud.

There was something inexplicable about the glowing softness of her. The woolen hat, the ringlets, the reddened cheeks.

Natasha’s lips parted as she exhaled anxiously.

‘I love you.’ You told her, because it was the only thing to do.

Natasha’s breath caught and her eyes sparkled impossibly more.

‘That’s not a crime.’ She considered aloud, her grin teasing.

You kissed her gently, wanting to live in this moment forever. 

She tasted much warmer than you’d expected. 

When your lips parted, Natasha hummed in satisfaction. Her forehead affectionately touched yours. The feeling of being entirely wanted spread over you like a blanket.

Natasha wobbled on the ice, but you held her steady. 

Christmas music crackled over the overhead speakers.

For a moment, there were only the bright lights and the pair of you. 

Then, with alarming speed, two teenagers skated past. You both startled.

Natasha sighed gently as she extricated herself from your hold. 

‘Come on.’ She said, taking your hand resolutely in her mittened one.

‘It’s time to go fall on my ass.’

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection Part 3

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha gets a temporary roommate and ends up learning about what you’re hiding from her.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Warnings: light angst, violence, hurt/comfort, light fluff

Words: 6888

The quinjet touches down on the Compound’s landing pad, bringing Natasha back to the familiar surroundings after yet another frustrating mission. 

She stomps down the ramp, intent on heading straight to her room, needing to recuperate from the weariness of yet another surveillance operation gone wrong.

The USB drive she collected from the target at your apartment building held information about potential weapons locations, but every lead she followed turned out to be a dead end—empty warehouses and useless intel. 

She will need to re-evaluate everything she has to figure out where she went wrong, but for now, she was too exhausted to think about it.

Stepping into the elevator, Natasha presses the button for her floor. As the doors slide shut, FRIDAY’s voice chimes in from the speakers.

“Welcome back, Miss Romanoff. Mr. Stark is requesting your presence in the lab.”

Natasha groans, tipping her head back against the elevator wall. The last thing she wants to do is deal with Tony right now.

“Tell him to wait,” she mutters. “I just got back.” 

A moment of silence passes, and Natasha allows herself a sigh of relief.

But the peace is short-lived, as Tony’s voice suddenly blared through the speaker.

“Now, Romanoff! Get down here now! Your—hey! Don’t touch that, you little—”

Natasha frowns at the abrupt cut-off. She couldn’t help but wonder who he was yelling at this time.

Curiosity wins over her exhaustion, and she presses the button for his floor instead.

When the lab doors open, she is greeted by the sight of a frazzled Tony waving his hands angrily at a small dome-shaped force field on the table.

“How do you like that?” Tony grumbles, glaring at something inside the dome. “This is what happens when you keep touching things that aren’t yours.”

Natasha steps closer, raising a brow when she sees who he is talking to. 

Inside the force field, Widow is pawing at the barrier, her annoyed meows insistent and filled with frustration as if she is arguing back with him.

“Really, Stark?” Natasha says, crossing her arms with an unimpressed look. “You’re fighting with a cat?”

Tony turns to her, relief evident on his face as he grabs her arm and drags her closer to the trapped feline.

“Finally! Get your girlfriend’s pet out of my lab before she destroys something important!” 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Natasha corrects with a roll of her eyes. 

Ever since Clint had accidentally stumbled upon one of the flirty texts exchanged between you and Natasha, the teasing from the team had been relentless. 

Despite the playful banter, you already made it clear that you weren’t looking for anything more than friendship right now, and Natasha can respect that. 

That’s not to say her current feelings toward you have disappeared, but she can be content with having your company as a friend. 

At least that’s what she tells herself.

Tony waves dismissively, “Yeah, yeah, sure. Just get that little troublemaker out of here.”

Natasha turns her attention back to Widow, who is now lying on her back inside the dome, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes. 

Widow lets out a soft, adorable meow in greeting, prompting Natasha to place her hand against the surface of the force field with a small, amused smile.

In response, Widow stands and raises her paw, mimicking the motion and meowing softly.

“How did she even get in here?” Natasha asks, wondering if you are still nearby. 

“She took the elevator,” Tony replies flatly.

Natasha shoots him a skeptical look, but he points to the cat defensively.

“I’m serious! FRIDAY didn’t detect the little sneak until the elevator arrived on my floor. I walked in to find her scratching one of my suits.” 

Widow meows indignantly, offering Natasha a cute, pleading look as if to refute Tony’s accusations. 

“Don’t fall for it, Nat. She’s trouble,” Tony warns, glaring at the little creature. 

Shaking her head, Natasha disengages the force field and gives Widow a quick scratch behind the ears before turning to him with her hands on her hips.

“You’re overreacting, Tony. She’s practically harmless.”

At that moment, the sound of shattering glass fills the room.

Natasha turns to find a broken coffee mug on the floor, its contents spilled into a small puddle. Looking up toward the table, Widow is perched nearby, her paw still raised, clearly responsible for the destruction. 

Tony glares at the two of them and points toward the door.

“Out.”

Sighing, Natasha scoops up Widow just as she is about to jump onto another table. 

The cat lets out an offended yowl, but Natasha ignores it as she notices a small, folded piece of paper attached to the cat’s collar. 

“What’s this?” Natasha mutters.

Tony glances over before looking away, uninterested. 

“Don’t know, don’t care. She tries to scratch me whenever I go to grab it. Now, out of my lab.” 

With Widow in her arms, Natasha exits and makes her way to her room. 

Each time she reaches for the paper, the cat playfully swats at her hand, trying to nibble at her fingers. 

“Hey, no biting,” Natasha chastises, lightly tapping Widow on the nose in reprimand. 

After reaching her room, Natasha sets the cat down on the counter and pulls out a treat from the drawer.

She’s been stocking treats for the cat, just in case.

Widow’s eyes light up at the sight, and she begins to move towards it, but Natasha holds it just out of reach. 

“Ah, no, I’ll give you this once you let me grab that paper.” 

After a brief moment’s standoff, Widow releases a meow of surrender and tilts her head, allowing Natasha to retrieve the note. She offers the treat to the cat, who eagerly devours it, while Natasha’s other hand unfolds the paper.

Please take care of Widow for a couple of days There’s a backpack with everything she needs up on the roof Thanks, I owe you one, Miss Black Widow🖤 P.S. Tell Stark his west perimeter needs better security

Natasha couldn’t help but smirk in amusement at the last line.

She glances at Widow, who, after finishing her snack, is now comfortably lounging by the window, soaking in the sunlight.

“Looks like you’re staying with me for a while.”

Widow gives a lazy meow, completely at ease and utterly content in her new favorite spot. 

Natasha smiles at the cat fondly, but it fades as she re-read the note. 

Something didn’t feel right. 

Taking out her phone, she calls your number, only to hear the automated message indicating that the call couldn’t go through. 

Her frown deepens as she opens your recent text conversations—filled with photos of Widow and late-night talks—but nothing suggests you’d been planning for something where you’d need to leave Widow with her.

This must have been a sudden decision.

She quickly types out a message:

“Everything okay?”

The notification appears immediately:

Message not delivered.

Natasha’s concern grows as she stares at the screen, a sinking feeling settling in her chest.

As if sensing her unease, Widow hops down from her sunny perch and nudges Natasha’s leg with her head, purring softly as she rubs against her. 

The simple gesture pulls Natasha from her thoughts, offering a moment of comfort amidst her rising concern. She bends down, stroking the sleek fur along Widow's back in silent thanks.

"Well, you don’t seem too worried," Natasha mutters, her voice low in consideration.

Widow yawns in response, her back arching as she stretches lazily. 

The sight pulls a faint smile from Natasha, though it’s tinged with lingering apprehension. As much as she tries to dismiss her concern, the uneasy feeling still clings to her.

Glancing once more at the note, Natasha tells herself it’s probably fine. After all, you said it was only for a couple of days. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Later that night, Natasha steps out of the bathroom, her hair still damp from the quick shower. She absentmindedly dries her hair with a towel as she moves toward her bed, but upon reaching it, she pauses, her hands finding her hips as she takes in the sight before her.

At the foot of her bed, Widow is curled up, comfortably settled into the blankets, her little body rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep.  

Natasha huffs, a smile tugging at her lips.

“What’s the point of making you a cozy bed if you’re just going to sleep on mine?” she asks lightly, though her words are more affectionate than scolding. 

Widow, seemingly fast asleep, doesn’t stir at her words—at least, not right away. 

For a brief second, Natasha catches the subtle twitch of the cat’s ears, causing her to smirk knowingly and shake her head.

“Yeah, I’m not falling for that act again," she mutters, stepping forward and scooping the small cat into her arms. 

Widow’s eyes snap open, narrowing at her in protest. A soft, indignant meow escapes as she squirms, clearly displeased at being caught pretending.

She gives a half-hearted swipe at Natasha’s face, but Natasha easily dodges the playful gesture with a quiet chuckle.

“Nice try,” Natasha teases, holding Widow up to meet her gaze. 

Turning, she carries Widow over to the small, cozy bed she had arranged earlier near the window—a cushioned basket lined with a soft blanket, positioned to catch the warm morning sunlight.

“This is your bed,” Natasha says, setting Widow down on the plush surface.

Widow sniffs at the blanket curiously, circling a few times before settling into the cozy space. She let out a tiny, contented meow as if acknowledging the effort Natasha had put in. 

Satisfied that her new roommate has been adequately situated, Natasha heads to her bed. 

However, before she can take a step, a sharp, insistent meow echoes through the room. 

Natasha turns back to find Widow staring at her expectantly, her golden eyes locked on her. 

“What is it now?” Natasha asks, arching an eyebrow. 

Widow’s gaze shifts to the backpack you had left behind, filled with all her essentials.

Another meow follows, this time directed at the bag.

Curious, Natasha moves to the backpack, kneeling to unzip it. As she rummages through the contents—food, toys, grooming supplies—her fingers brush against something soft, tucked away in one of the inner pockets. 

Pulling it out, Natasha blinks in surprise. 

It was a small plush toy—a miniature Black Widow doll, complete with the signature red hair and black jumpsuit. 

“Seriously?” Natasha mutters to herself, an amused smirk forming on her lips. 

She wishes your phone was receiving messages so that she can tease you about this. It’s cute how you keep denying being a fan of hers.

Widow immediately perks up at the sight of the toy, her eyes wide with excitement. 

The moment Natasha places the small plush near her, the cat pounces on it with a delighted meow, her paws wrapping around it as she hugs the soft toy to her chest.

“Guess I’m your favorite Avenger, huh?” Natasha says softly, smiling warmly. 

Widow responds with a tiny, satisfied purr, her eyelids fluttering shut as she snuggles into the plush toy.

Natasha lingers by the window, watching the little feline drift off to sleep, her heart warmed by the scene. 

Once she is sure Widow has fallen asleep, Natasha returns to her bed, sitting at its edge. 

The exhaustion from the day weighed heavily on her, but something about the sight of Widow contently hugging the tiny plush toy had brought her a slight sense of peace. 

“At least one of us will have a good night’s sleep,” Natasha murmurs, glancing at the peaceful little ball of fur curled up in the basket. 

Stretching out on her bed, Natasha lies back against the cool sheets, her body grateful for the reprieve. 

Yet her mind refuses to relax. 

The day’s frustrations, the failed mission, and the nagging worry about your sudden departure churn restlessly in her thoughts.

She closes her eyes, hoping for the oblivion of sleep, but knowing it wouldn’t come easily.

Eventually, the darkness behind her eyelids pulls her under, but her rest is far from peaceful. 

Like always, her dreams are plagued by old memories—flashes of the Red Room, the harsh lights, the sharp smell of gunpowder and sweat. 

She sees faces, blurred and indistinct, and hears the deafening sound of explosions. 

Blood on her hands.

Her body feels heavy as if trapped, unable to move as the chaos envelopes her. 

With a sudden start, Natasha wakes, shooting up in her bed.

Her heart pounds in her chest as her breaths come out in short, uneven bursts. Sweat clings to her skin, and for a moment, she is disoriented, her mind still lost somewhere between the nightmare and the safety of the Compound. 

After a moment, the quiet room comes into focus around her, familiar but oppressive in the suffocating stillness of the night. 

With a tired sigh, Natasha wipes a hand over her face, trying to shake off the lingering images of the nightmare and regain her composure.

Then, a soft sound reaches her ears in the quiet—a gentle rustling.

Natasha turns her head next to her. 

Widow sits by her side, watching her intently with wide, concerned eyes. 

The little black cat tilts her head slightly, her ears twitching as if sensing Natasha’s turmoil. 

“Hey,” Natasha whispers, her voice rough with exhaustion. “Sorry, did I wake you?” 

She reaches out a hand, but pauses as the nightmare resurfaces—a memory of her hands bloodied. 

Natasha hesitates, pulling her fingers back, but before she can retreat fully, Widow nudges forward, nuzzling against her hand with a comforting purr that reverberates softly in the stillness of the room.

The warmth of Widow’s fur under her hand grounds Natasha, pulling her back from the edge of her spiraling thoughts. 

The cat presses closer, gently kneading the bed near Natasha’s arm, before moving into her lap.

For a long moment, Natasha sits there, frozen, focusing on the steady rise and fall of Widow’s tiny breaths. The calm presence of the cat was unexpectedly soothing, quieting the turmoil in her mind.

Widow’s purring intensifies, almost as if she’s trying to wrap Natasha in that sound, as if she understands something is wrong. 

Seeing the cat’s lack of fear and hesitation, Natasha exhales shakily, finally running her hand down Widow’s back in slow, gentle strokes.

“I’m okay,” she murmurs, more to herself than to the cat. “Just a bad dream.”

Widow doesn’t move, though, curling up closer against Natasha’s side, her little body a source of warmth. She lets out a soft, contented meow that vibrates with understanding. 

It’s as though she is telling Natasha that it’s okay not to be okay.

A small smile tugs at Natasha’s lips.

She hadn’t expected this quiet comfort from something so small, yet here it was, easing the weight of her fears and being a soft presence at her side.

“Thanks,” Natasha whispers, running her fingers through Widow’s fur. “I needed this.”

Widow shifts slightly, snuggling closer to her as if accepting the gratitude.

The room, which had felt suffocating just moments before, now seemed a little more bearable.

Natasha leans back onto the pillow, her fingers still idly stroking Widow’s fur, the rhythmic purring lulling her back into a sense of calm.

This time, when her eyes drift shut, the darkness doesn’t feel quite as oppressive. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha sits on the couch, her posture relaxed but her mind miles away as she absently scrolls through her tablet. Reports, articles, and data streams pass her eyes as she picks at the remnants of her sandwich. Every lead for the mission had taken her nowhere, leaving her more frustrated than ever. 

As she finishes off the last bite, a headline catches her eye. 

“String of Break-ins Across the City: Police Diverting Resources to Combat Surge of Robberies” 

Her fingers pause mid-scroll, and her brows knit together in suspicion. Clicking on the article, she skims through the details.

Over the course of several nights, high-end neighborhoods had been targeted by a series of well-coordinated robberies. The police were scrambling to refocus their efforts, diverting resources to protect the wealthy districts while struggling to find the culprits.

Noticing something familiar, Natasha pulls up the coordinates of the locations she had previously investigated—the ones that were supposed to link to the weapons she was chasing.

As she compares the areas of the robberies with the sites she had scouted, a pattern begins to form. 

The break-ins and her failed leads overlapped in strange ways, both of them strategically avoiding a particular zone. 

Her suspicion deepens. It can’t be just coincidence.

She glances over at Widow, who is happily munching on her food, blissfully unaware of Natasha’s growing unease. 

The little black cat has kept her company whenever thoughts of your sudden disappearance bother her.

She still hasn’t been able to reach you, which only worsens the feeling that something is wrong. 

Natasha was close to asking FRIDAY to track your phone, but the part of her that respected your privacy hesitated.

But now, a possible explanation about your whereabouts forms in her mind.

Before she can let the idea settle any further, the sound of the elevator doors opening breaks her concentration. Tony’s voice echoes into the room before he even fully steps out.

“Ugh, the cat’s still here? It’s been over a week. At this point, I’m gonna have to start charging her rent.” 

Widow lifts her head from her bowl, her yellow eyes narrowing at Tony. A string of irritated meows escapes her, sounding oddly accusatory.

Tony gasps in offense. “Is she mocking me?” 

Natasha doesn’t bother to respond to his complaints, having grown used to their ongoing squabbles over the past week. 

Instead, she turns her tablet toward him, her mind still focused on the new lead forming in her head. 

“Tony, you sent Peter to check out the docks recently, right?” 

Tony pauses his glaring contest with Widow, glancing at the tablet before leaning back against the couch with a nod. 

“Yeah, the kid didn’t see any weapons being moved in. Why, you got something?”

“Just a hunch,” Natasha replies, standing up with a quick stretch. “I need to check something out, but I need you to watch Widow for me.”

Tony’s face twists in horror as he immediately shakes his head, raising his hands in protest.

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. You take her with you. I am not cat-sitting.”

Sighing, Natasha bends to scoop Widow up from the floor, cradling the small feline against her chest. She runs her fingers under Widow’s chin, giving her a soft scratch. 

“I can’t take her. It could be dangerous.”

Tony eyes the cat warily, keeping his distance.

“Where’s Wanda? She loves this furball.”  

“She’s on a mission,” Natasha answers, stepping closer and holding Widow out toward him. “Like everyone else.” 

Tony crosses his arms and tucks his hands under his sides, stubbornly refusing to take the cat. 

“Well, I’m busy too.” 

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her expression unimpressed. 

“It’s only going to be an hour or two. Besides, you owe me, Stark. Remember Pepper’s birthday?” 

Tony frowns in silence for a moment before groaning loudly in reluctant acceptance. 

“Ugh, fine! But only because I don’t need her bringing that up again. Give me the cat.”

Widow, sensing the impending hand-off, squirms in Natasha’s arms, her tiny paws scrambling as she tries to burrow against Natasha’s body in protest.

Her soft, pitiful cries grow louder, almost as if she were begging Natasha not to leave her with Tony.

“No, no, no,” Natasha murmurs soothingly, running her fingers along Widow’s back. “It’s only for a little while, I promise.”

But Widow wasn’t having it. 

She clings to Natasha, her tiny claws gripping her shirt, her cries growing more desperate.

Natasha sighs, trying to pry the cat away gently, but Widow is surprisingly strong for her size.

“See?” Tony says, pointing an accusing finger at her. “Even she doesn’t want this. You can’t force this on me!” 

Natasha gives him an unimpressed look, clearly unmoved by his dramatic refusal. 

“She’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”

With one final nuzzle to calm the cat, Natasha manages to transfer Widow into Tony’s reluctant arms. 

The moment the cat lands in his grasp, she goes completely still, her narrowed eyes locking onto Tony with an expression that could only be described as disdainful.

“I’ll be back soon,” Natasha promises, giving Widow one last pat on the head before grabbing her jacket and making her way to the door. 

Tony sighs dramatically, holding the cat awkwardly at arm’s length. 

“You better be. And if she scratches any more of my stuff, we’re gonna have a serious problem.” 

Natasha chuckles softly but doesn’t look back. Her mind is already back on the case, the unease gnawing at her as she steps into the elevator. 

Something about the break-ins, your disappearance, and the misleading intel she had been chasing feels connected in ways she couldn’t yet explain. 

It was too perfect, too coordinated. And Natasha knows better than to believe in coincidences.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha pulls up near the docks, parking her car a few blocks away to avoid drawing any attention.

The dimly lit warehouses loomed large in the night, and her eyes scanned the scene for any movement or signs of activity. 

Despite the late hour, there seems to be an unusual number of people milling around—far too many for a regular night shift. The men guarding the entrance didn't look like typical dock workers either; they were too alert, too stiff.

Looks like her instincts were right about something suspicious happening here. 

As she tries to figure out her approach to investigate, a slight movement from the passenger seat catches her eye.

The half-opened duffel bag in front of her shifts ever so slightly. 

Natasha blinks, her brow furrowing as she stares at the bag, almost unwilling to believe what she knew was coming. 

With a sigh, she reaches over and unzips the bag entirely. 

Sure enough, Widow’s small head pops out from where she had been hiding, her yellow eyes blinking up at Natasha with a soft, innocent meow. 

“At this point, I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore,” Natasha mutters, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She leans over and gives the cat a quick scratch behind the ears. 

“After all, you’re a professional, aren’t you? Just like her.”

Widow purrs, seemingly proud of the comparison, before hopping onto the passenger armrest. 

Before Natasha can react, the cat swats at the buttons on the door, and the distinct click of the car door unlocking fills the air. 

Natasha immediately presses the lock button again, shaking her head in exasperation and amusement. 

“She trained you a little too well, you know that?” 

The cat blinks at her, meowing insistently as she paws at the window, eager to assist. 

Natasha knows there is no point in leaving her in the car—not when Widow is clearly more than capable of finding her way out. 

With a sigh, Natasha relents. 

“Alright, what’s the plan?” 

Moments later, Natasha crouches in the shadows near the entrance to the docks, watching as the guards patrol the area. 

Widow had slipped away almost as soon as they arrived, disappearing into the darkness with the kind of stealth that only a cat could manage. 

Natasha stayed low, blending into the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to make her move. 

Suddenly, one of the guards at the gate straightens, his eyes darting around the area. 

“Hey, did you hear that?” 

“Hear what?” his partner asks lazily, barely glancing up from his phone.

“I don’t know,”  the first guard replies, his frown deepening. “But it sounded like it came from over there.”

“Well, go check it out, genius,” his partner mutters, shoving him in the direction of the noise. 

The first guard grumbles but complies, his flashlight cutting through the dark as he wanders toward the distraction—away from Natasha’s position.

A faint smile tugs at her lips.

Looks like Widow is already making her move.

With the first guard distracted and the second engrossed in his phone, Natasha moves quickly, slipping past the gate and deeper into the docks. 

She hugs the walls, her movements swift and silent, her senses on high alert. 

The deeper she went, the more obvious it became that something was off. 

The workers moving around the docks weren’t just loading and unloading—they were guarding something. 

As she rounds a corner, Natasha freezes. 

Ahead of her, two men stand by an open warehouse door, crates and boxes stacked high inside. She crouches behind a stack of barrels, her eyes narrowing as she listens. 

“Are we sure we should be moving all of this tonight?” one of them asks, his voice low. “What if the cops show up? It’ll look suspicious.”  

“Relax,” the other voice answers. “The boss has that girl keeping the police distracted with those break-ins. They’re so focused on protecting the rich neighborhoods that they won’t even think to check the docks. We’ll move the weapons through here without a hitch.”

Natasha’s blood runs cold as the realization hits her—these were the people using you. 

Her fists clenched in anger. She had to put a stop to this, but just as she prepared to move, a sharp, startled yowl pierced the night. 

Her heart leaps into her throat as her eyes snap toward the sound.

Widow’s small figure was caught in the grip of one of the guards, dangling helplessly as he held her by the scruff. 

“Hey, isn’t this that girl’s cat?” the man remarks, shining his flashlight directly at Widow’s face.

Widow hisses in defiance, her fur standing on end as she swipes at the man’s hand. The man yelps in pain as her claws scratch deep.

“Damn cat!” the man snarls, his temper flaring. With a vicious motion, he flings her violently to the side.

Widow hits the warehouse wall with a sickening thud, her small body letting out a sharp, pained cry as she crumples to the ground.

In a flash, Natasha is on her feet, closing the distance between herself and the guard, her vision blurred with rage.  

Without hesitation, she delivers a brutal kick to his ribs, sending him crashing against the warehouse wall. He slumped to the ground, unconscious before he could react. 

The other guard barely had time to register what was happening before Natasha was on him. A swift punch to his jaw dazes him, and a well-placed elbow to the side of his head knocks him out cold.

Breathing heavily, Natasha turns to where Widow had been thrown. The small cat was now on her feet, limping toward her, clearly hurt but still alert.  

Natasha curses under her breath in regret as she rushes to Widow’s side. She scoops the cat up carefully into her arms, cradling her close.

Widow meows weakly, pressing herself against Natasha’s chest, her small frame trembling slightly. 

Natasha runs her hand gently over Widow’s fur, her touch careful and deliberate as she searches for any signs of injury.

Her fingers still when they brush over a small, raised patch of fur—a spot she hadn’t noticed before. 

It didn’t seem like a wound from the impact when Widow had been thrown against the warehouse wall. It felt old, as though it had been there for some time. 

Shaking off her confusion for now, Natasha lets out a small sigh of relief. 

Widow’s injuries seem mostly minor—a few bruises and a limp, but nothing too serious. 

The cat meows softly, leaning into Natasha’s comforting touch to reassure her that she is okay.

Glancing over her shoulder at the crates stacked inside the warehouse, Natasha knows she can’t afford to stay. More guards could be closing in, and with Widow hurt, she couldn’t risk a full confrontation. 

Making a quick decision, she pulls out a few small, hidden trackers from her gear and discreetly attaches them to several of the boxes. 

Now, at least, she’d be able to track the weapons’ movement. 

With Widow nestled securely in her arms, Natasha slips through the shadows, her movements fluid and silent as she navigates between the towering crates and through narrow alleyways. 

Every sense was on high alert, her focus sharp, her only goal to get them both out safely.

“Hang on, girl. I’ve got you,” she whispers, her voice low and reassuring as she cradles the cat close to her chest. 

Throughout the entire ride back to the Compound, Natasha keeps Widow pressed protectively against her body, her arms wrapped around the small creature as though shielding her from the world. 

The lab doors slide open as Natasha rushes inside, her eyes scanning the room for Tony. She finds him in the middle of a frantic search, tossing tools and devices around, clearly looking for something. 

“Stark!” Natasha calls, her voice sharp with urgency. 

Tony jumps at her voice, spinning around with wide eyes, hands raised defensively. 

“I can explain!” he says quickly. “I put the furball down for one second, and the next thing I know, she’s...” His eyes fall to the cat cradled in Natasha’s arms, and he sags in relief. “...with you.” 

Natasha shoots him an unimpressed glare as she moves toward one of the examination tables. She gently sets Widow down on the surface, stroking the cat’s fur as she tries to comfort her. 

“FRIDAY, can you scan her for any injuries? We ran into some trouble,” Natasha requests. 

“Certainly, Miss Romanoff,” the A.I. responds immediately, and the sensors on the examination table light up, preparing for the scan.

Widow perks up, her curiosity piqued by the glowing lights beneath her paws. She paws at the surface, her small meows filling the lab. 

“I’d just like to point out, for the record, that I did warn you about leaving her with me,” Tony grumbles, grabbing a tablet from the nearby counter to check the scan results. 

“Just tell me if she’s okay,” Natasha deadpans, crossing her arms. 

Tony scrolls through the vitals displayed on the tablet, muttering as he does so. 

“Calm down, Romanoff. I’m sure your girlfriend’s cat is just–” 

Tony’s words abruptly cut off, and Natasha’s attention snaps from Widow to him. 

His face had gone still, his usual smug expression replaced with a deep frown. He stares at the tablet as if seeing something he couldn’t quite believe.

Before Natasha can ask what is wrong, Tony reaches behind him, grabbing a device off one of the nearby tables.

Without warning, he tosses it toward Widow, and within seconds, a force field dome activates around the cat, encasing her in a barrier.

Widow yelps in surprise, jumping slightly before pawing frantically at the shimmering barrier.

Her yellow eyes go wide, and she turns to Natasha, letting out a distressed cry. 

“What the hell, Tony?” Natasha barks, stepping forward to deactivate the force field. 

Tony’s hand shoots out, stopping her. 

“Don’t, Nat,” he says, his voice low and serious. “She’s dangerous.” 

Natasha’s brow furrows in confusion. “What? No, she’s harmless.”

He shows her the screen and reveals grimly,

“There’s a bomb inside of her.”

Natasha freezes, her frown deepening as Tony’s words sink in.

Her eyes shift to Widow, who is now meowing pitifully, her paw pressing against the invisible force field as she looks at Natasha with wide, confused eyes.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha lies on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, her mind processing the recent discovery. 

Sleep was out of the question—not for the usual reasons this time, but because her thoughts wouldn’t stop racing.

Everything was slowly falling into place, but the weight of it pressed heavily on her chest. 

Earlier, Tony had confirmed it. Hidden beneath Widow’s fur was a small, foreign device—a bomb. Surgically implanted and designed to detonate remotely, it was rigged to explode if tampered with. 

“So that’s what they’ve been using to control you,” Natasha whispers to herself, her fists clenching at her sides as the gravity of the situation settles in. 

It wasn’t just about you—it was about keeping Widow alive. You had been trying to protect her this whole time. 

Her gaze shifts to the corner of her room where Widow’s bed lay empty, the small plush toy resting on top of it.

Widow usually cries out for that toy before she goes to sleep, but now she is locked away in Tony’s lab, trapped inside the force field as a precaution. 

Natasha’s heart ached at the thought of the frightened cat, isolated and alone, with no understanding of the threat she carried.

Unable to bear the thought any longer, Natasha stands, grabs the plush toy, and makes her way to the lab. 

As the doors slide open, she spots Widow curled up beneath the shimmering barrier, her small body trembling, ears flattened against her head.

A soft whine echoes through the room, and Natasha’s heart breaks a little more.

Steeling herself, Natasha approaches the table and deactivates the force field. 

Widow lifts her head slowly, blinking as she adjusts to her newfound freedom. Her wide, yellow eyes search the room before they find Natasha.

With a small, reassuring smile, Natasha holds out the plush toy. 

“Come on,” she coaxes softly, her voice filled with an apologetic tenderness. “I’m not afraid of you.” 

Widow tilts her head, hesitating for a moment before letting out a tiny meow. She moves toward Natasha, nuzzling her hand in forgiveness. 

Natasha feels a rush of warmth, the tension in her chest easing slightly as the cat accepts her apology.

A little while later, Natasha finds herself on the rooftop of the Compound, the cool night air soothing her restless thoughts. 

Widow was curled comfortably in her lap, contentedly gnawing on her plush toy under the vast, open night sky. 

Natasha’s fingers idly stroke through the cat’s fur, her thoughts wandering to what comes next. 

The situation was far more serious than she’d imagined, and it was clear the only way to move forward was to find you.

Her thoughts drift to you as they always do, wondering what you were going through—how much you must be shouldering by yourself.

Suddenly, Widow pauses her playing and stands, her front paws rising to rest on Natasha’s shoulder.

Natasha turns her head slightly to the side to look at the cat. She is about to ask what she is up to when your voice breaks the silence from the other side.

“Staying up late, as usual, I see.”   

Natasha jumps, her body tensing as she whips her head around, heart pounding in her chest. 

You were standing dangerously close—too close—and the sight of your familiar smirk made her pulse quicken even more.

The warmth between you seemed to radiate in the cool night air. 

Widow wastes no time, immediately hopping over Natasha’s shoulder and into your waiting arms.

You chuckle softly, cradling the cat against your chest, fingers brushing through her fur. 

“Hello to you too,” you murmur warmly as Widow nuzzles into you.

For a moment, Natasha allows herself to soften at the sight. There was something undeniably tender in the way you held Widow, in the gentle smile that curved your lips. 

But that moment of softness quickly dissolves as her eyes land on the bandage above your left brow.

Her body tenses again as she stands slowly, brushing herself off while discreetly scanning you for other possible injuries.

"Thanks again for taking care of her," you say, breaking the silence, your gaze meeting hers. Widow is now nestled comfortably in your arms, completely at ease. “I mean it—I owe you. Anything you need, just say the word.”

Natasha takes a step forward, her hand instinctively reaching up to your face. Her fingertips brush delicately near the bandage on your brow, the touch lingering just a second too long as concern flickers in her eyes.

"How about an explanation for this?"

For a moment, you freeze under her touch, your breath catching as her fingers hovered near your skin.

The air around you feels charged, and the space between you seems to narrow further even though neither of you has moved.  

Your hand rises slowly, fingers wrapping gently around her wrist as you guide her hand back down to her side.

The contact is soft but electric, sending a jolt through Natasha as the warmth of your skin ignites something inside her.

"You should see the other guy," you say lightly, trying to brush off her concern with a joke.

But the humor doesn’t quite reach your eyes as your smile fades, replaced by something more cautious, more guarded.

“I did,” Natasha responds seriously, her tone dropping as she locks eyes with you. She nodded toward Widow. "That’s what led me to find out about the bomb inside our little friend here."

Her gaze hardens, pinning you with an intensity that makes the tension between you spike.

“And I’m guessing the USB I left with that night…that was your doing too.”

Your expression falters, lips pressing into a thin, resigned line at her deduction. Eventually, you give her a slight nod. 

“You’re as impressive as people say,” you compliment before tilting your head at her with a wry smile. “I guess I can’t blame the cat this time.”

Natasha’s gaze flicks back and forth between your eyes, searching, her frustration building with each passing second. 

“You’ve already helped them steal the weapons by drawing attention away with those break-ins,” she says, her voice filled with a quiet, simmering anger. “So what now? Was that enough for them to leave you two alone?” 

You look away, guilt flickering across your features before your gaze drops to Widow. 

“It’s just one more job,” you whisper, almost to yourself. “One more, and then I’m done.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow, frustration building in her chest. 

"How many times have you told yourself that?" she exclaims, her voice cutting through the night with a razor-sharp edge. "How many times have you convinced yourself it’s just one more?"  

You give her a glare at her words.

“Oh, please, save the lecture,” you snap, your voice rough, your heart pounding with a mix of emotion. “Not everyone gets the luxury of forgetting their past and becoming a hero. Some of us don’t get a second chance.”

Silence settles between you as the tension grows unbearable, the air heavy with unresolved emotions.

Finally, Natasha reaches out, her fingers lightly gripping the fabric of your jacket, pulling you closer.

Her eyes bore into yours, her proximity sending a shiver down your spine as she steps closer, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper.

“You think I erased my past?” she asks, her breath fanning across your cheek. “You think I just forgot everything I’ve done? I live with that every day. But I chose to be better.” 

She holds your gaze, hoping to convey the truth of her next words. 

“You can too,” she whispers. 

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, the heat between you palpable. Your hand hovers near her arm conflicted between pushing her away or pulling her closer.

Natasha’s eyes flicker with something deeper, a plea hidden behind her frustration as she waits for your response.

After a moment of silence, you finally give her a wry smile, touching her arm gently. 

“That’s what makes you so amazing, Miss Black Widow,” you answer, your breath shallow as her overwhelming presence consumes your thoughts. It takes all your concentration to push through with your next words as you drop your hand from her. 

“But I don’t have time for hope. This is about survival.” 

Natasha’s eyes soften, and she takes another step closer.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” she whispers, her lips inches from yours, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Your gaze locks with hers, the charged tension hanging thickly in the air, unyielding.

You want to believe her, to let her in—but fear holds you back. You break the eye contact, looking away as the weight of your situation presses down on you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, the words heavy with unspoken regret. 

Natasha’s hand slowly drops from your jacket, and she takes a step back, her heart aching at the refusal in your words.  

In your arms, Widow let out a soft, sympathetic meow, as if sensing the pain in both of you. She turns her head toward Natasha, her wide eyes pleading as if asking her to do something.

The sight of the feline gives her an idea.

“If you don’t want me to help you, at least let me help her,” Natasha says, nodding toward Widow. Her voice is softer now, almost a plea. 

You look down at Widow, considering her words, your teeth worrying your lower lip as you think it over.

Natasha’s eyes linger at the action for just a moment, but she quickly pulls her gaze back up when she remembers the boundary you’ve placed on your relationship.

“Okay,” you finally relent, holding your hand out to her. “For Widow. That’s it.” 

Natasha’s hand meets yours, the warmth spreading between your palms as your fingers intertwine, the tension still simmering beneath the surface.

“For Widow,” she whispers, her eyes locked on yours with an unspoken promise.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

a/n: thanks for reading! Your responses on this series are so nice. I'm glad to see that you are all enjoying it.

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

Taglist : @cd-4848, @carifletchersgirl

[mapis-putellas]

𝑨𝒄𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 1998

Warnings: none

Summary: You break your ankle and Alexia feels guilty.

[Prompts]

"Are you comfortable, amor?" Alexia murmurs as she places a cushion beneath your leg, making sure it was elevated before tentatively easing herself down next to you and resting her hand on your thigh.

You'd just gotten back from a four hour stint at the hospital after breaking your ankle whilst out for a run with Alexia, and whilst most people would have spent that time waiting for X-rays and tests and who else knows what, you'd spent the majority of the time attempting to talk Alexia down. Not only had she been antsy ever since the small accident; pacing back and forth, bouncing her leg and biting her nails, but she'd felt incredibly guilty too because she'd felt as though the whole thing had been her fault.

You smile slightly as you try your best to ignore the persistent throbbing in your left ankle. "I'm okay, baby," You assure, reaching up and lightly trailing the tip of your finger over her furrowed brow. "Now stop frowning. You'll get wrinkles."

Alexia scoffs quietly as she grasps your hand and pulls it away from her face, giving the appendage a soft squeeze. "You broke your ankle," she exclaims, looking less than happy. At herself, or at you, you didn't quite know. "You broke your ankle because of me. I am allowed to frown."

"What?" You frown, shaking your head. "It was not because of you. It was my idea to go jogging, ale."

"And it was my idea to race." She counters, and you sigh lightly as you trail the pad of your thumb over the back of her hand. The skin warms beneath your touch.

She was right. It was her idea to race. But that didn't mean that it was her fault. You were notoriously clumsy and had been for as long as you could remember, tripping over your own feet at least once a day. That wasn't even mentioning the fact that last week you fell up the stairs due to the fact you were paying more attention to your phone than your feet. It was just who you were, and you were pretty sure that would never change.

"It was your idea to race," you agree, hating the way her lips purse at your words. You attempt to mediate that straight away. "But you and I both know that I would have tripped had we been racing or not. I'm clumsy ale, you know this."

Alexia sighs lightly. "Sí. I know. But..."

"I know," you sooth, gently tugging on her hand in hopes to persuade her to come closer. Alexia visibly hesitates as she looks down at your broken leg. You smile lightly. "It's okay," you assure. "You won't hurt me. It's my ankle that's broken, not my arm, or chest. I can still hold you."

Alexia nods, biting her bottom lip softly as she scoots herself a little closer and lays her chest flush against your own. Her cheek rests on your shoulder, and you both feel and hear the deep sigh that escapes her lips as you hook your arms around her waist. Her own loop loosely around your shoulders, almost as though she was afraid of hurting you further, and you can't help but sigh softly as you crane your head and press your lips against her neck.

"It's okay, ale," you assure, brushing your lips against her skin as you reach up to cup the back of her head. Your fingers comb through her hair, a gentle and repetitive motion as you feel her tighten her grip around you. "It's okay."

After a few moments, Alexia eases herself away from you, her hands rising to tenderly cup your cheeks before she leans in and places a playful kiss to your nose. You laugh softly at the exaggerated sound she makes as she pulls away, and Alexia smiles as she places another kiss to your lips before clearing her throat and rising to her feet.

"Come on, amor. It is dinner time."

*

A few hours later, you find yourself sat on the closed toilet seat as you watch Alexia get things ready for a shower. Despite your insistence that you could manage just fine, she'd insisted on showering with you, making an apparently very valid point that if she were to let you shower alone and you fell because you only had one good foot, it would be entirely her fault. You'd disagreed that it would not be, but accepted her reasoning anyway, not willing to upset her anymore than you already had today.

You watch as she checks the temperature of the water before crouching down in front of you with a waterproof cast cover.

"Is this really necessary?" You grumble as she slides the uncomfortable garment over your foot, nose wrinkling as it digs into the skin just beneath your knee.

"Yes, amor," Alexia glances up at you as she lightly grasps the back of your ankle and adjusts the cover slightly. "If you do not wear this, your cast will get wet and then you have no choice to go back to hospital."

You sigh lightly, Alexia sending you a sympathetic look as she rises back to her feet and holds out her hands. When you hesitate, she wiggles her fingers, and you can't help but smile slightly as you take them and allow her to haul you to your feet.

"It is going to be...difficult, amor, I know this. You know this. But I will be with you, sí?" She guides your hands to rest on each of her sides for balance before cupping your cheeks. "I am here to help you, always, yes?" Her voice trails off into a whisper as she leans forward and places a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Your nod slightly as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of her lips against your skin, fingers tightly clutching the material of her shirt. Realising you may need a second, Alexia reaches round to cup the back of your head and coaxes you to her chest. You fall into her, allowing her steady frame to support your body and help keep you upright as her hand rubs gentle circles across the length of your back.

"Te amo, amor." She whispers, grazing her thumb across your scalp as she rocks you gently back and forth. You smile slightly into her chest as your hands come to rest on the small of her back.

"I love you too, baby." Your voice was mere whisper, but Alexia hears it loud and clear. Her arms squeeze you tightly before she eases you away from her, hands once again returning to your cheeks.

"Let's shower, sí?" She whispers, and you nod your head, feeling one last kiss to your forehead before gentle hands were tugging lightly at the bottom of your shirt.

You raise your arms and allow her to remove it from your body, left only in your sports bra. Alexia tucks her fingers beneath the material before removing that too. Left bare from the waist up, you hold onto her shoulders as she crouches down and tugs off both your shorts and underwear in one go.

"All done." she murmurs, placing an affectionate kiss to your hipbone before standing back up. Alexia makes quick work of stripping too, placing everything into the laundry basket before she gathers you back in her arms, skin against skin as she holds your body close to her own and helps guide you into the shower.

The warm water hits you immediately, and you let out a deep sigh of relief as you allow Alexia to hold your front flush against her own, arms around your waist to keep you both balanced and upright. You hear her hum slightly as she presses her lips against the side of your head, your eyes closing in content as you lean into the touch.

The sound of the shower water hitting the tiled floor fills the silence between you both, the glass screen quickly becoming fogged due to the heat. Right now, in this moment, all you could feel was Alexia. Her touch. Her smell. Her skin. The way her hands graze softly against your back as her lips press gentle kisses to your forehead. Everything was just...her, and it was something you wanted to experience a thousand times over.

"How is your leg, amor?" Alexia murmurs against your forehead, her voice effectively breaking the silence between you. You let out a quiet sigh as you shift a little on your one supporting foot, the other held up behind you.

"Sore," you admit, cupping her jawline and trailing the pad of your thumb over the sharpness of it. The blonde before you cranes her head and presses a kiss to the palm of your hand, and you can't help but smile a little when she playfully nips at the skin. "But the painkillers are helping."

"Bueno. Will you let me wash your hair?" She brings one of her hands away from your body and lightly grasps a strand of soaked hair, twirling it around her fingers before tucking it behind your ear.

"Sure ale." You nod, Alexia smiling in response as she reaches for the shampoo that was placed on the small shelf in the corner. She pours an adequate amount into her palm before rubbing her hands together to create a lather, your eyes fluttering closed when you feel them begin to gently scrub at your scalp.

You can't help but let out a quiet groan.

"Nice?" Alexia smiles, her voice holding a tone of amusement, and you nod your head, your exhale of content audible over the shower water still hitting the floor. When your hair was officially soaped up, she gently guides you back beneath the water and begins rinsing it out. Your eyes remain closed throughout the entire process, your hands keeping ahold of her biceps so she didn't have to hold up the entirety of your weight.

The rest of your shower passes in a comfortable silence, Alexia not only washing your hair but your body too. Whilst your conditioner sits, you allow her to lift you off of your feet for just a few moments so that your good leg could have a break.

You'd then manage to talk her into letting you wash her hair for her too despite her worries that you wouldn't be able to do so without slipping, and soon, she was carrying you out of the bathroom wrapped snuggly in a towel, easing you down onto the end before crouching down in front of you and gently easing off the cast cover.

You wince a little at the red indent it leaves, Alexia running the pad of her thumb over it before she grabs the free towel she'd brought in with her and begins drying you off. You raise an eyebrow in amusement as you reach out to cup her cheek. "I can do this myself, ale." You murmur with a smile, Alexia glancing up at you with a shy grin as she continues with her task.

"I know," she shrugs lightly. "but I want to help, amor. Let me, por favor?"

You stare down at the pleading look on her face, silently begging you to let her help in any way she could. After a second, you find yourself nodding your head.  "Okay." You agree softly, Alexia giving your knee a soft squeeze before once again picking up the towel.

**

Tags:

@xxnaiaxx @goldenempyrean @simp4panos @liloandstitchstan @codiemarin @marysfics @girlgenius1111

[dmitriene]

simon is ticklish, all the skin beneath the heavy layers of his gear is sensitive to the careful, caressing touches, making his rippling muscles seize and his spine almost arch under your warm palm, scattered scars rubbing against the pads of your fingers as goosebumps erupt on his flesh.

he can't control it, turning the softest under your careful touch even through tickling sensations that makes him grunt, yet still letting you trace patches up from the back of his neck and down his coccyx, his body fidgeting just slightly, pulling a smile to your lips.

sometimes that makes simon almost shy, when you're growing a bit more teasing, hands gliding up his happy trail to the slightly soft tummy, his body shuddering and expanse of his shoulders flush just a tad bit, enough for you to see the pretty red hue that travels to the tips of his ears.

he won't tell that it makes him bothered, bubbling warmth settling heavy in his stomach as your hands encircle him everytime, his flesh remembers every place you touched him at, the one's that leaded to simon being painfully hard, huffing in mild frustration and rolling his shoulders when you're not near.

but you'll have to make it up for him eventually, because it's your attention and touches that made him like this, so let him burrow his sweaty face in your shoulder as you caress his neck and areas behind his ears, his hips rutting against your clothed mound to elevate the throbbing pressure under his sweatpants.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Touch (Part 2)

Miguel O'Hara x reader

GIF by milesmoralespilled

(AO3 Mirror), Part 1, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel tries to win you over. It doesn't go as planned.

warnings: pwp!!, light f-dom, praise kink, fem receiving oral, slight m-sub, lots and lots of begging. Miguel is a switchy mess bc i said so. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: I am so normal about him!

wc: 2.2k

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

You avoid him like the plague. 

The next day, he wakes up to an empty house with you leaving for work earlier than usual. He traipses around the apartment, looking for you before he realises he is chasing your ghost: the traces of scent left on sheets. And he is shameless when he walks into your shared bedroom, rolling around in your heady perfume and pressing the rumpled bedsheets to his nose. Aching, always. 

His own work takes him out of the apartment for most of the day, but he makes a point to slip away early. Little things, mostly: the bodega down the street for your favourite noodles, fresh lilies from a florist on the way, and some chocolate and sweet things to say sorry. He sets up in the kitchen, putting the flowers in water; hands flying on the chopping board to make dinner in time for when you come home. 

Miguel is a careful man; very particular about the way he lives his life. As such, he hunkers down a plan to apologise, showering you with affection and attention to make up for the past few weeks. He wants to be home when you get back, welcoming and warm before he slips out for his… night shift. His other job, that you are just as important as, a fact he wants you to remember.

He can hear you a couple floors down, the tell-tale click of your heels down the corridor and into the elevator. He scrambles to the front room, lounging on the sofa but ready to take your coat off and ask about your day. To go through the routine you had before all the late nights and lonely evenings. 

"Evening, mi vida." He looks expectantly towards you as you walk in. "How was work?" 

You kick off your shoes and breeze into the bedroom - without so much of a glance at him. Deflating, he watches as you shut the door behind you. Miguel sinks into the sofa cushions, sighing in frustration. 

~~~

And it stays like that for the next couple of days: you make it a point to ignore him. Short curt responses after work; Yes Miguel, No Miguel, I put it on the counter, Miguel. He misses the pout of your lips, the pet names, hell, he'd take it if you shouted and screamed at him to take the edge off. Nary a Miggy in sight. You give him nothing. 

Ever perceptive, he notices the little things. You still make his lunch when you can, and leave out food for him when he has a late night and forgets to eat. Small, gentle reminders that you care for him. Not that he ever doubted it, of course. 

When he clambers in through the back window, the one you always leave open for him, it's late. He clutches his side, groaning at a nasty bruise at his ribs. His mask comes off in the dim light, and he rubs his temples. Sore and exhausted, he pads through to the kitchen. 

Despite the lack of adrenaline, his senses are perfectly attuned. He smells it first: the sticky scent of arousal, so fresh he can taste it in the air. There's rustling, and as he pads closer to the bedroom door, he is almost bowled over by the obscene sounds of your fingers buried in your cunt. The door is slightly ajar, and he watches you on silk sheets with the light of the moon spilling onto your frame. One hand clamped over your mouth, the other curling into your pussy, and your eyes screwed tightly shut. His legs weaken at the knees when he realises you're in one of his sweatshirts, desperately humping your hand for release. 

For the past week, you've barely spoken to him, let alone touched him. He's reminded of that when his cock throbs in his suit. He palms himself absentmindedly, the heel of his hand providing juust the right amount of pressure, before catching himself. He feels like a pervert, watching you get off like this, desperate to bury his tongue between your thighs. Space, you need space, and he is trying his hardest to give it to you. Shaking his head, he tears himself away. 

Until he hears a heart-wrenching moan erupt from beyond the door, that is. You curse quietly, Spanish swear words you've clearly heard from Miguel. He doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry when you quicken your pace - trying to chase that high. You're frustrated, he can tell, removing the hand at your mouth to squeeze your tits through his sweatshirt. 

With a flash of pink tongue, he wets his lips and gently opens the door wider, leaning on its door frame. You are too occupied to notice him watching, hand on his cock through his suit. And he just waits for a moment, eyes hungry as he matches your speed when he rubs himself through the fabric. Your hips arch slightly, making his cock jump. 

"Mierda, baby." He breathes and your eyes snap open, as you remove your hand with a hiss. 

Miguel stands at your door, windswept hair, beautifully flushed and ruined - all from just watching. He continues to palm himself shamelessly, never breaking eye contact. 

"S'not enough, is it?" He says, shakily. 

He's right and you know it. You can't cum, no matter how hard you try, because it's not the same. Not the same as your boyfriend's long fingers and thick cock pounding into you, persistent. 

He stalks closer and repeats himself. "Not enough for my princesa, hmm?" 

You groan, covering your face. "Miguel-"

"-fuck off, I know, I know." He sinks to his knees in front of you, by your side of the bed. "Let me help you, mi vida."

You hesitate. He looks gorgeous in the half light: hair tousled, looking up at you through heavy eyes. Despite your better judgment, you get closer, legs spread and hanging off the edge of your bed. 

"You want me to beg? Because I will, princesa, I will. Te necesito tanto, tan desesperadamente. I need you so much it hurts. Look, please," He reaches over to paw at your thighs with big, gloved hands. The scent of your cum is overpowering this close - heady and addictive with his enhanced senses. 

"...l-look at what you do to me. Turn me into a mess, can't think about anything else. Solo en ti, princesa. Only you." 

You card your fingers in his hair and he is reverent. Migeul babbles in broken English like a madman, barely taking a breath. You feel the familiar heat of arousal in your gut. He's making you wet, without even trying. 

Cruelly, you jerk his head into your pussy, and he laps you open with a ready tongue. He moans into it, sucking at your clit and lips as you hump his face. His own hips cant at the same pace you've set, rubbing his tented lower half onto the bed frame for some relief. 

Slobbering and messy, he moans into your cunt - hands on your ass to push you further onto his face. He's eating you out like a man starved - and the noises he makes are pornographic. You squeeze your thighs around his head, and he almost cums right then, his hips bucking dramatically upwards with a groan. Watching him unravel is too much to bear, and so you tug at his hair, separated with a wet pop. Head tilted slightly back, chin and mouth glistening with your wetness, he flashes his fangs at you with a lazy grin. You're both panting, breathless from the carnality of it all. 

You clench around nothing; so, so close. 

He wipes his slick mouth with a forearm, before placing his head by your knees. 

"Look how pretty you are, mi sol." He slaps your pussy, watching it pulse in response. "So wet. Is this all for me?" 

Hesitantly, you bite your lip and nod. Miguel rubs circles into the meat of your thigh, sucking hickies into the skin. 

"I can make you feel so good," He whispers into your skin - so tender it makes you shiver. "I just want to make you feel good. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Sé que soy tuyo para siempre mi señorita hermosa. I'm yours… fuck… I-I'm yours…"

You won't be able to wrench him from your cunt; you know that much. When he gets like this, delirious from the heat of your two bodies together in the low light, he turns into something else entirely. Maybe it's to do with his changed DNA, something more than human at the crook of his chest - animalistic and primal. 

You cradle his cheek, so he's forced to look up at you. 

"I want you in me, Miggy. Want it to hurt."

His eyes flutter shut as he nods frantically, moving to stand up. You help him out of his suit, snug around his crotch until his cock springs free. His tip is an angry red and weeping so much precum it spills onto the sheets. His frame is delicious; broad shoulders and strong arms, stocky with the muscle of his thighs and solid middle. Miguel is beautifully tan, with the prettiest cock you think you've ever seen. Long, thick, and curved to the side. You've dreamt about the way he hits your spongy walls in all the right places. 

He helps you out of his sweatshirt, with expert fingers. He practically drools at the swell of your tits, kneading them with one palm as he clambers over you. There's a content sigh as he rubs his cock, sticky with precum, over your slit; head back and hips moving like water. He pulls a moan out of you when he finally - finally - fills you up in one swift movement. 

"Mierda, baby, does that feel good?" He croons, rubbing slow circles into your clit. His answer comes when you clench around his cock, creating a creamy ring around its base. He crouches to nip at your skin with his fangs, rolling his hips into yours. 

He knows your body better than you do, and it feels good. You claw at his back in pleasure, babbling his name into the crook of his neck. But it's not enough. It's like he knows when you're on the edge, about to come, slowing his hips until they simply grind on your clit, rutting against you. It's cruel, and it causes tears well up in your eyes. 

"F-Faster. Please." He just keeps grunting, barely speeding up. A slow, steady, relentless pace, picking up his hips until his cock is almost out of your hole, before filling you in one firm movement. 

He keeps going, and going, until your hips shake and your bodies heave with the effort. His back is red and raw with scratches as your pleas fall on deaf ears. 

"Harder, Miguel. Please, baby, I need it. F-Faster. Want it to hurt." You sob softly, drunk on pleasure.

He kisses up the tears that fall. "I know, mi vida. But it's not what you need right now, hmm?" 

He whispers soft praises into your tits, your collarbone, the fat of your cheeks. Anywhere and everywhere that needs it: so he can tell you how beautiful you are and how much he cares for you. He swallows up your moans with his lips on yours, sending you over the edge. That tight string at your gut snaps, and you cum so hard you see stars. 

He doesn't stop, picking up the pace in the aftershock of your spasms. You can tell he's trying hard not to follow, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. When your orgasm subsides, he pulls out with a shaky moan. 

"One more, f'me, baby. Una más para mí, just one more." 

You hum into his kiss, and he hooks his hands under your knees. Placing your legs over his shoulders, he sinks back into you with a satisfied grunt. Now, he pounds into you - the slap-slap of your ass against his hips resounding in your little bedroom. You make a mess, creamy cum spilling where your bodies connect. You force him deeper, harder, with a hand on his neck. 

"M'close, Miggy." You tug the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. 

"Good girl, good fucking girl." His hips stutter when he feels you clench at his words. "I want to cum with you, princesa. Can I cum? Please, baby, c-can I cum?" 

Gently nodding, you wrap a hand around his throat and pull him in for a kiss - so consuming and heady it makes you want to sink into his skin. You clamp down on his cock, and his pace slurs; before Miguel spills his warm cum deep into your cunt. His hips still, and he curls into you, deepening the kiss. 

Exhausted, you separate, side by side. Still sticky with his cum, he wraps you up in his arms, pressing shaky kisses to your temple. 

"I love you." He says, gently. 

"Doesn't feel like it, sometimes." You breathe. 

You both lay there, completely still. He furrows his brow, terse with the words he wants to say but can't. All he can do is pull you closer, and envelope you in the warmth of his skin. 

"Miggy?" You say after a while. 

He hums. 

"I love you too." 

_

_

_

[littlexdeaths]

was thinking about what would happen if you took robin home to meet your folks for christmas, and you had to share the shitty pull out sofa bed in their living room. enjoy xx.

warnings: 18+ freaks only, fingering, little sprinkle of dom!robin

“Robs, please.” you plead, gasping when her fingers meet your cunt with a wet smack.

“Shh,” she coos softly, resting her chin on your shoulder. The fold out bed creaks loudly in protest as she shifts her hips, keeping your back pressed to her front. “You’ll wake everyone up, baby.”

And while you know she’s right, your parents are literally just down the hall—the desire coursing through your veins has you pushing your hips back with a newfound desperation. Her soft giggle tickles your cheek, her slick fingers gripping your hip to stop any further wiggling.

Robin waits a minute more, partly due to her own paranoia that your parents will come bursting into the living room at any given moment and discover exactly what the two of you are doing under their roof. But she’s satisfied when the only thing she hears is your elevated breathing and the blizzard raging outside.

You swallow down a whimper when her fingers dip back between your thighs, burying your face deeper into the pillow in an attempt to muffle any other sounds that happen to escape your mouth.

“You’ve been so desperate for it all night, huh?” She teases, the pad of her middle finger ghosting over your clit. “My sweet girl just needed me to take care of her, is that it?”

Your frantic nod has another soft giggle echoing in your ears, your teeth digging harshly into your lip when her fingers continue lower and carefully slip inside your aching center. You want to cry out of pure relief as she stretches you out slowly, carefully adding another digit when you wiggle your hips back against her again.

While you should feel embarrassed when it’s your cunt that cries out when she slips a third finger inside, it’s her reaction that makes you all the more insatiable. The sound has Robin burying her face into the curve of your neck, your skin muffling the soft whine that leaves her lips. She grinds her hips against your backside, in search of some much needed friction.

But she knocks your hand away when you try and reach back to touch her, instead spreading your thighs further apart to thrust her fingers back inside you. Another muffled moan leaves her lips when your body makes that deliciously wet sound again.

“Who’s the desperate one now?” you taunt with a breathless giggle.

[exhaslo]

Over-Time Ch15

(CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4,Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14

Warning: MINORS DNI, sexual thoughts, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing, fluff, touch starved

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After a long day of worrying over several different things, it was finally time to clock out.

You wanted relief to wash over you as Miguel took your hand.

You wanted to feel relieved as Miguel kept comforting you.

But it was difficult.

Your nerves were getting worse as you kept overthinking about everything that could go wrong. Miguel must have noticed because he kept helping you walk since you were stumbling everywhere. It was embarrassing.

"Amor, (love), I must admit while I hate how stressed you are, I can't help but find your clumsiness adorable." Miguel whispered as he kissed your neck.

"S-Sorry,"

"Allow me to ease yourself," Miguel hummed as his hands stroked down your waist, "I don't want my girl to get gray hairs before me."

"Haha," You chuckled.

As much as you enjoyed Miguel's attention, you knew that you needed answers first. Moving his hands away from your skirt, you leaned forward and pecked his lips.

"Answers first, Miguel."

"Of course,"

The car ride to Miguel's place was quiet. Miguel was respectful of your wishes, his arm only around your shoulder. How much of what Dana said was true? You knew that Miguel would be honest with you, but it still concerned you.

Noticing the car slowing down, you look out the window and saw beautiful skyscrapers. You watched as you pulled into a tightly secured parking lot. The driver parked and exited the vehicle.

"Sir, Ma'am, we have arrived." The driver spoke as he opened the door. Miguel helped you out,

"Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your night."

"Thank you, sir. You as well."

You were in awe over the parking lot alone. It was large, fancy and had lots of body guards. Miguel rested his hand against your waist, leading you towards a brightly lit elevator.

Once inside, you were surprised to see more buttons on the elevator pad than the one at work.

"Would you like to guess what floor I'm on?" Miguel asked you sweetly. You pressed your lips forward, thinking,

"Um...twenty?" You asked, pressing the button. Miguel just chuckled,

"No, try again."

"Uh, twenty-five?" You questioned, pressing another button.

"Haha," Miguel let out a loud laugh as he grabbed your hand, "You don't need to keep pressing the buttons."

"O-Oh! Sorry!"

"Here," Miguel held your hands as he pressed the final floor, "There we go, top floor."

--------

Miguel was itching to touch you more. The warmth of your hand was not enough for him. Feeling you tremble, Miguel just relished in your sweetness. He needed to be respectful of your wishes. To wait until he told you everything.

But Miguel was so bad at listening to himself.

Miguel wanted to kiss you. He wanted to press your body against his, wanting to feel your warmth. Miguel wanted to hear your sexy moans as he groped your body.

To have you pressed against these elevator walls as he slapping his dick into your tight walls. The sounds you would make as Miguel would turn your insides into a hot, wet mess. The way your legs would tremble as your pussy squeezed his dick.

'Shit'

Miguel inhaled deeply as he felt himself getting hard. How easy you did this to him. To think that even the great and powerful Miguel could fold so easily. All because of you.

"(Y/N), may I hold you just a bit?" Miguel asked, wanting you to feel what you were doing to him.

"S-Sure," You stuttered.

Ah, Miguel could never get enough of you. His shy little clumsy mouse. Closing his eyes, Miguel inhaled the perfume you wore. Such a sweet scent. Perfect for when he would ravish you later. His little dessert.

"Miguel," You whined softly.

"Sorry, I don't want anyone seeing," Miguel said a softly

It was true, he didn't want people seeing the state he was in. Almost like a feral beast just wanted to fuck his prey pregnant. Oh how the news reporters would eat this up.

Miguel just needed to wait until they got to his penthouse. Once the two of you did, Miguel hurried took your hand into his place.

--------

You're eyes widen at the sight of Miguel's penthouse. It was large and spacious. Miguel was quick to grab some water before leading you over to the couch.

"Sorry about this, but feel free to look around. I'm going to shower and take care of this first."

"It's okay. Take your time," You hummed. Miguel raised a brow towards you, a slight smirk on his face,

"Unless you care to join me?"

"A-Ah," Your cheeks started to burn, "A-Answers first!"

"Hm, if I answer some of your questions, would you then join me in the shower?"

Why did Miguel have to be so charming? Your heart was leaping at the thought of joining him. That and you pressed your legs together as you started to get hot.

"Maybe..."

"Alright. Before you start your questions, I want you to know that Dana means nothing to me."

"But she did at some point, right?" You hesitantly asked. Miguel sighed softly,

"We had known each other for a long time. She was a friend to me, at least before our two families spoke of marriage. To please my family, I tried to see Dana as something more than a friend...but..." Miguel's look turned sour.

"But?"

"I tried to love her, tried to give her the attention she wanted, but it was never enough. Dana wanted more. I couldn't stand her butting into everything. I started to lie to get rid of her."

"So...why did you sign the contract?" You asked. Miguel stroked your cheek,

"I did, but I didn't. One night I got drunk, too drunk, and she took advantage of it. (Y/N), I am using every lawyer I have under my belt to get out of this arrangement."

"I see," You whispered and gulped, "Um...have you ever...had sex with her?" You didn't want to ask, but you recalled Dana's words.

Miguel must have saw the hurt in your eyes. He kissed your head and stayed in front of you, keeping eye contact.

"I have twice, but it wasn't real love."

It hurt to hear Miguel admit it, but at least he was honest. You had wanted to be Miguel's first as well, but that might have been asking for too much.

"I have other questions...Dana mentioned about you hiding stuff about your family, your past and about your desires and wants?"

"I will answer everything you want. (Y/N), unlike that snake, I care for you. I truly love you and want to keep you by my side. If anything, my main desire is to free myself from that woman and have you all to myself." Miguel kissed your hands. "I want to keep you all to myself."

"Can't you rip the contract?"

"If only it were that easy," Miguel took the seat beside you, "If I were to rip the contract or refuse to marry her, then Dana will have access to my company. I can't let her take everything I worked hard for. She cares only for the money, but she will ruin everything."

"But...it allows you to openly have another relationship?"

"I've read the contract. I can do as I please, so long so, that I don't break off the marriage," Miguel sighed as he leaned back into the couch, "I swear that woman drives me insane."

Playing with your fingers, you could feel Miguel's stress. He truly hated Dana. Wanting to cheer him up, you slowly crawled on top of Miguel's lap. Your hands resting against his cheeks to get his attention again.

"I'm sorry for worrying about this...and for doubting you. I just...I just tend to overthink, that and Dana was pretty s-scary. This...This is my first relationship and I really really like you, Miguel. I was scared that it wasn't real."

"(Y/N)," Miguel wiped your tears away, pulling you in for a gentle kiss, "Sorry to not have warned you about her earlier."

"I-It's okay."

You sniffled softly, calming down. As you did, you whimpered as you felt Miguel's bulge press against your crotch. Miguel hummed lowly as his hands rested against your waist,

"Why don't I answer a few more questions in the shower? Help you clear your mind of worries?"

"Mhm, M-Miguel," You whimpered at the thought.

"Come, let's wash up."

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Next Chapter

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[takes1]

[final part] asahi x reader grinding

thanks for tuning in :)

warnings. nsfw, minors DNI

details. mutual pining! / mutual!inexperience / skipped!talking phase / mutual lust! / asahi has a crush on you / forced proximity / asahi is hung / premature ejaculation / praise / asahi has horrible endurance / lap sitting / beach setting / grinding with clothes on / implied mutual virginity / asahi is a soft top / 3.3k words

links. my masterlist. part one. more haikyuu. got any requests?

Your chest rose and fell quicker, your heart beating harder, your hands twitchy in your pockets. You felt glued to the concrete. You never expected him to catch you so off-guard.

"Was I-," Asahi looked back and forth between your eyes, then down, a little sheepish, "-Wrong, to assume...?"

"N-o," You winced at your terribly huge crush ceasing to be a secret anymore.

"You're not wrong-," When you took a tentative step forward, and he met you in the middle. You were both hesitant to look at each other, let alone do anything else, "If that's what you wanted."

His tone came as a shock to you.

"I thought I made it pretty clear what I wanted."

Every little thing he said or did today rushed through your mind, now laced with the connotation he was trying to communicate the whole time. There wasn't much else to say.

It was funny entering the hotel, just you two, walking as quiet as possible across the vast first floor. You even nodded to the receptionist on your way to the elevator. You only started giggling when the doors closed.

Upon arrival last night, the team had made the delightful discovery that this elevator moved at a snail's pace; Getting to your floor would take at least a minute.

"How long do you think we could stay up here for?" You pressed 9 on the number pad, surprised when you turned and he was closer than you assumed.

He read your shock as disinterest. When he backed up to the wall, reddened at his failed attempt, thinking of a realistic timeline, you closed the distance again.

You were as close as you could get without touching. He had his hands on the built-in railing but didn't lean away from you.

"Maybe..." He looked down at you, words sounding distant as they left his mouth, "An hour?"

Tentative, you watched your own hands place themselves gently onto his big, bulky shoulders. You had been wanting to feel him there again ever since that impromptu hug weeks ago, after a big win against Date Tech.

"That sounds like plenty of time," You kept your voice from shaking by being as quiet as you possibly could.

He seized your wrists and placed your arms around his neck for you, hands flying back to meet your waist and pull you flush onto his front. Your breath stalled when he squeezed you, fingers grabbing as much of you as he politely could.

Your skin was left prickling anywhere he touched.

You weren't sure how this hour was going to go, what you'd do, but you knew you had to start with a kiss.

It was gentle, and soft, and felt like a quiet question- like the kiss itself was asking for 'more, please.'

"Holy shit," You sighed against his pillowy lips. It got so heated, so fast.

You went in for another, then another, and another, and forgot you needed to breathe.

Neither of you were very experienced, but you had the passion to keep trying, to keep making up for it and trying again for each kiss that didn't seem quite as satisfying as you wanted.

Asahi stumbled back with a laugh when you pushed on him- you pressed your lips onto his open mouth and caught a bit of his tongue in the process. It was way hotter than either of you expected.

"Mmn," His little moan into your mouth practically liquified you- he scooped you up in his big, strong arms and you barely moved in time to wrap your legs around his waist.

You were both so surprised at yourselves and each other, but didn't want to stop for anything.

The elevator door opened slow and creaky.

He carried you a short distance down the hall to your assigned room, not his. You tried your luck at sucking on his neck.

"Are we- augh- are we- really doin' this?" He struggled to mumble his words out, keep his wits for the both of you in this painfully public hallway, handle how good your tongue felt right there, and swipe your room card at the same time.

You weren't exactly sure how far he thought 'doing this' meant, but you also weren't sure how far you wanted to go, either. It was a simple, yet powerful feeling. All you could guess was that it was a simple, powerful solution.

"Mm...As long as you're into it."

Your momentary letting up, in order to answer him, made room for the spare second he needed to get inside.

Once you were in, you decided to hop down and kick off your shoes since he seemed so out of breath. But all he did was lock the door, kick a towel under the crack in the bottom, get his shoes off, and pick you right back up.

His voice was rushed, breathy with the need to have you right now. It sounded like he could've been rolling his eyes at how obvious the answer was, "Yeah- I'm into'it."

You yelped and instinctively wrapped your legs around him while he wasted absolutely no time putting you on your back.

It was so exciting that you had to giggle at his enthusiasm, and once again, his ability to throw you around.

"You're so strong," Your eyes danced around his face between messy, perfect kisses, delighted to see that your compliment embarrassed him a little.

His warm forehead pressed against your shoulder with a chuckle, shy and huffy.

Your fingers took every precious moment they could to take his headband off and rake through his long hair, nails across his scalp in the hopes to make him feel good.

"Ohh," His eyes squeezed shut, legs slowly joining the rest of his body onto the mattress. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and pulled away from you.

He sat back on his heels, flushed with the realization that his body was parting your thighs open under him.

Hair a mess, eyes unfocused with a fuzzy warmth to them, jaw tight- he looked completely undone.

"Can I take your clothes off?" It sounded like more of a hushed admission, of sorts, rather than the question that it was. Like he was revealing he'd been wanting to do that for longer than you could imagine.

You had to keep from squealing out the answer- "Yes."

Everything was so quick and distracting that even you forgot you were wearing your swimsuit underneath. He grinned with your shirt still balled up in his fist.

"That's- really cute," His eyes bounced between your tits, starting to pull your shorts off as he muttered to himself, "I guess I would've seen it all anyway, today."

You scoffed, trying to hide your nerves by not making a big deal of it, "I wasn't gonna wear this in front of everyone."

"You were gonna get in the water with everythin' on?" He grinned and slid to meet you for a hungry kiss, satisfied to hear this was still all for him and no others idiots on the team.

His fingers were digging into your fleshy bare hips, his groin against your needy sex with hardly anything separating you.

Your unruly whine was swallowed up but not ignored.

"You're'sooo perfect," Was a rushed and heady sigh, something in between a whisper and a groan right under your ear where he tried to mimic your unsuccessful attempt at a hickey.

The heat rushing to your face, the dizzying weight of his body, and your feverish desire to have him made it hard to think.

Your breath was tough to catch. A clumsy attempt to take his shirt off was your only solace in the buzz of it all.

You were given a picture perfect view when he sat up again and pulled it from the back of his collar- his lightly flexed arms, the reveal of his strong frame and kinda fuzzy chest made you infinitely more curious. Your hands jutted out to feel him.

You just couldn't help it, "Woww."

He chuckled watching you sit up, hands scouring his body like you were on the hunt for something. You palmed his chest, fingers filled with muscle as you squeezed- his laughter only grew to full volume when you stuck your face between his pecs and nearly knocked him off balance.

"Okay, okay-!" He giggled and rested his hands on your shoulders to pry your off, ecstatic about your obvious fascination.

You wiggled out of this position and met him on your knees for a big, messy kiss. It was starting to feel more real now that you had gotten a bucket list item out of the way.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," You groaned against his lips -still curled in a smile-. You palmed both of his arms simultaneously, then stretched over his shoulders to grab onto his back.

He couldn't have been more amused. It was crazy to think that he didn't understand how hot he was.

"So," His hands, much more reserved, much slower, than yours, spread the bottom of your ass and you were suddenly sucked back into reality, "You must like guys with a lot of muscle, right?"

The span of his fingers meant that some of them were awfully close to the inside of your thighs- he knew it, too. He kept palming you and reaching further into the warmth there.

"Uh-," You lost your breath, arms tighter around him, unsure if you wanted him to feel you or not, yet, "I just like you."

Asahi chuckled at your answer and, buzzed with the preoccupation of how hot and wet his fingers were getting, muttered, "I can tell."

You flinched at his heated words and tore away from him- he let up and was all sheepish, again, "I didn't mean it in a mean way-."

When he held his wet fingers between you, your face flushed at the sight and you had to look away, missing the chance to see him suck all of it off as he settled onto his back.

"I like you too," He addressed your previous admission, placing his hands on your hips as you tentatively made your way onto his lap.

His eyes just drank all of you up, sitting like this. You'd be lying if you said you didn't like it, but it did make you nervous. No guy had ever seen you this undressed.

"Ever since you joined."

"No way," You rolled your eyes, calling his bullshit immediately, "You didn't know my name until three months after I joined."

Asahi grinned, palms sliding up and down your bare thighs. You could feel his cock flex under you and he reveled in seeing your little jump.

"I couldn't remember your name because I got so nervous. I couldn't think when you were around, and I played like an idiot," You grinned at some irrefutable truth in his little confession, "I had to relearn how to be a normal person."

You recalled how mean and gruff he seemed to you as a freshman. He was the only member of the team who wouldn't talk to you. It felt like you couldn't even stand in his vicinity without getting stared down- who knew it was all amicable? It got easier to manage as time went on, especially after he left and came back, leagues more friendly thanks to the new freshman class. But your longstanding crush never wavered; he had always been your type.

"Well," You leaned forward, nose-to-nose with him, twirling some of his hair in your fingers, "You came across as a real big jerk."

It seemed you couldn't just talk to each other. Your gaze grew hungrier. His big fingers dug into the crease of your thighs, hips, and ass.

"Oh, yeah?"

Your lips crashed against each other's again, starving for more; your fingers of one hand were all tangled in his roots, the other free to feel the rest of him.

All you could think about was how big he felt, how it might fit in your hand, or your mouth, or your cunt.

He made the prettiest sounds when you pressed your palm against it- it was so warm, swollen under your touch and you thought of how long he had been hard for, how painful that probably was.

And you were amazed at how easy it was to make him so messy.

Your hand worked back and forth over his clothes- he was getting worse at kissing you because of his lack of focus, so you pulled back a little to look at him.

He was so cute. Brows screwed up at the crude and simple pleasure, pupils blown out and the sounds- shit, the choked groans. Like he was just short of begging.

Your hand dipped to feel him- you wanted to at least see his cock.

"I really like you," He muttered, hot and quick on your ear you almost didn't catch it. "I don't want you to think I'm into you just for--,"

Fingers slipped past his waistband and you barely got a feel- it was burning hot to the touch.

A very cute, unbridled moan got cut short by his awkward laughter. He nabbed your wrist.

"Ah-! Haha," He cleared his throat and let you go quick, "Sorry, I guess- I--,"

He clearly wasn't comfortable with that yet, so you slid your hand back to his tummy instead.

"No, it's okay!" You readjusted to sit on top of his hips, face burning at the pace of it all as you tried to put yourself in his position, "I just got...curious. We can stop there?"

You may have reacted the same if he tried to go that far with you. Everything was happening so fast.

Asahi stammered over himself for a second, face burning darker as he tried to explain.

"Nonono, I-I don't'wanna stop," His eyes kept darting to his print taking up the space between your legs, "I...just..."

It wasn't a malicious attempt to make him reconsider, nor was it trying to accomplish any distraction-like motives, but you found that you just couldn't force your hips to stay completely still when you could feel him pulsing through your flimsy clothes.

And he was perfect. Just a marble statue, really, who you could tell would only age like wine. His strong chest filled and shrank with a powerful shudder. His face looked pained-- his jaw tight and worked, his eyes unsure where to get their fill of you.

They settled for the most part on your hips, slowly raking back, and forth, and back, and forth over his swollen cock.

Part of his briefs sported a darker black from all the precum he was leaking. You desperately wished you could pull him out and use it as lube.

"I don't wanna stop," He said definitively.

It didn't need to be discussed. You ravished in the light of his daunting, but exhilarating attention as you got off just rubbing on his restrained print.

You let your head fall back, praying you looked like some kind of fantasy, and found yourself gasping at the yummy tension building once he bucked against you.

This could work. It was kind of? Like sex. Not really, but it was perfect for two people who weren't ready yet.

With his knees a little bent, and his forearm weighing on your lower back, there was more of an even distribution of work beginning to form. He was gentle and slow with the motion of his hips.

If he looked gone before, he was completely lost in it now.

He followed your natural rhythm without obstructing anything- you began to slowly, very minute increments, feel his hands trembling against you.

"This is--mm, this is'nice," You laughed- it made him smile and you bit your lip to keep from grinning too wide.

His big hands laced through your hair, pulling you down, gently directing your eyes to him.

"You have no idea- ah-h, how...God, how good that feels."

This was all you had wanted to do in that stupid golf cart. You moaned freely into his roughening kisses, swimming in the simple, slick, nonpenetrative pleasure sliding just right against your clit.

"I think I do," You sighed, whine caught early in your throat, "It's-mmmnh-!"

While you had planned on telling him how good it made you feel, you found you didn't have the physical capability of talking that much.

It would've been a tall task anyway with how insatiable his appetite was for your kisses.

"Damn-," His groans were deeper, needier, "You sound- ahh,"

Those big, rough hands were scouring up your sides, past your bikini top, grabbing as much of your breasts as he could. He was getting so rough, now- like he was searching, prodding, grasping for more of you.

"So-! Ah- Hot-,"

It was harder keeping up with his intensity, but you tried, enthusiastic and buzzing with his praise.

He felt amazing, but it was starting to seem like it felt better for him.

His breathing was hotter and heavier. It was turning you on to no end, and one of the only tangible encouragements you had, so you kept up what was already working.

"Mmn-h," He sighed. At this point, with his grip stronger than the rock of your own hips, he was using you as some sort of toy.

You thought back to practices where you were handing him a towel, or water, and how he struggled to thank you, breathless and flushed and sweaty. How often you pretended for many nights that he had been made that way, just for you, and not the sport that brought you together.

"Augh- fu-ck!" He whined, loud, and curled a little forward as if he'd gotten punched in the gut- he wasn't kissing you anymore, but his mouth was open, so you weighed him down and stuck your tongue inside.

You couldn't recall any other time he had ever said 'Fuck.'

That last buck of his hips took the breath out of you. A sharp moan at the perfect friction racked through you and spilled onto his lips.

But, suddenly, it was more teeth than lips that you were trying to kiss.

You pulled to look at him and, however steamy that wince on his face was, it confused you. You took a short breath to ask, in the midst of all the panting, but he muttered:

"I think, I-," He squeezed his eyes shut with the humiliating realization. The next word out of his mouth so quiet you didn't understand he said until you looked down. "Came."

You were sitting back on his lap, both palms covering your bitten, swollen lips, eyes wide at the semi-clear mess painted on his tan stomach.

Your heart was still pounding, you were so wet it was slick down your upper thighs, and looking at the vulgar, intimate sight before you made you want him even more.

"Are you okay?" Was all you could think to ask.

He laughed, "Am I--? 'Am I okay'- Yeah," He sighed, one more disgusted look down at himself, "I'm fine."

You were trying to be gentle, especially careful to not laugh with him, "...You don't seem okay."

"That's- it's- just never happened to me before," He stumbled over his words again, palm sliding over his side so he didn't drip onto the sheets.

There was so much of it. Did you really feel that good to him? You didn't hear him apologize past all your loud thoughts.

"That's so hot..." You said on the tail-end of a wistful sigh.

You had never seen somebody's expression change so quickly before. He started off looking like a kicked puppy, once it sunk in that you didn't find him the most abhorrent creature on the planet, he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

"Is there usually-," He flinched, wide-eyed when you traced your fingers on his glazed stomach, "This much?"

Amazed, he shook his head.

You were teeming with pride and he was coming back around his insecurity to meet you.

"Let's keep going."

♕VIP♕

@integers @yuchacco

my masterlist. request box.

[pbuckets-5]

uconns lost player part 2

authors note - hey y’all i’m back

warnings - angst, SWEARING, alcohol, fluff if you squint, smut if you reaaaally look

be prepared

21 - gracie abrams

i see the look in your eye and i’m biting my tongue

the sharp echo of the ball slamming against the wood floor echoed through the gym, each bounce sending a shock through your body. you freeze, clutching your basketball under your arm like a lifeline.

“long time no see,” nika’s voice rings throughout the empty gym, the ball momentarily stopping. another pair of footsteps pad across the gym floor, coming to a stop with an abrupt squeak.

“y/n.” geno’s voice cuts through the charged air like a knife, his words sharp, as if he was about to coach you.

you spin around on your heel, smiling sheepishly. your cheeks flush pink, the two combined gazes making you shrink. “uh.” you start, stuttering. “hi?”

after what felt like hours of hard labor and repeated shots from all over the court, geno finally released you with a slap on the back and a note from him clearing you to the nurse to begin to play again (involuntarily). nika walked out with you, an eerie silence falling between you.

she tentatively reaches out to touch your arm, stopping you in your tracks. you stare at one another for a moment before she speaks up, her voice hoarse from the hours of exertion.

“you know..” she begins, clearing her throat. “paige misses you. i don’t know how she’s going to react when you come back. just, please, don’t pull the bullshit you pulled again. you know that’ll break her.” she pauses, as if she almost regrets what she’s thinking. the silence falls thickly between you, the air charged with unspoken words. “you should really come back to kk’s apartment. it’s where the girls are celebrating.” she pauses after seeing the totally mortified expression on your face. “just.. try.”

and that’s how you found yourself slumped in the front seat of nika’s car, the music playing quietly in the background as she talks about the game. “you would’ve loved it,” she says, a soft, nostalgic smile on her face. “you would’ve dominated.” she says, tearing her eyes from the road to look at your slumped figure. you wondered if she could see your racing heart or maybe even read your mind.

“eyes on the road!” you say, gesturing for her to look back to the car in front of us. “oh gosh!” you say, straightening in your seat. you can’t help the small smile that graces your cheeks, glancing over at your closest hoop buddy.

“i know how to drive, dipshit.” she says, grinning wider now as she pulls into the all too familiar parking lot leading to kk’s apartment.

your heart suddenly leaps, and you realize what the fuck you’re actually doing right now. you’ve just dug yourself a 6 foot hole, and you’re about to jump into it when you step into this apartment.

“fuck.” you murmur, climbing out of nika’s car. you could immediately recognize multiple cars in the parking lot as many that you’ve been in before. you followed behind her like a lost puppy as you stepped into the elevator, counting the seconds until your heart goons into cardiac arrest.

as the two of you step out of the elevator, nika places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “it’s going to be fine. everybody misses you, anyways.” she says, flashing you that grin.

you smile back, trying to ignore there way your stomach twists as you take steps closer to the apartment. you can hear laughter and the bustling sounds of movement from outside, even from down the hall. you trail behind nika, hiding behind her broad shoulders as she pushed the door open.

the conversation falls for a moment, then quickly replaced by cheers.

“how was private torture with coach?” kk bounds over, seemly not noticing you as you fall back, even farther behind nika. you sag by the door, a blank but clearly terrified look plastered on your face.

nika drags you in my your wrist, and you can hear the gasp that echos through the room. all heads turn towards a slumped blonde one, her braids as always perfect and her usual bubbly self dimmed.

kk was the one to save the day, a broad grin spreading across her cheeks as she envelopes you in a hug, her arms squeezing you. “oh my god! i haven’t seen you in ages!” she squeals, squeezing the literal air out of you.

“yeah.” you croak out, wrapping your arms around her. “i haven’t seen you in a while.” you shoot nika a death glare for dragging you here, something that used to be your safe haven but was now a hell-hole.

she let’s go, finally, and bounds to the other side of the room, her radiant energy drawing everyone’s eyes to her. they were all obviously intoxicated, the room scattered with beer cans.

“paige!” she says, and you can feel your heart drop. all eyes turn to you as the color drains from your face, quickly then returning with a flushed hue. this is the closest you’ve been to paige since the accident, and your heart was already pounding out of your chest.

when she looked up, her red-rimmed eyes met yours with a look a pure shock, then betrayal, and then absolute admiration. you couldn't tell if she was mad as hell or proud to see you up again.

a snort escapes azzi's mouth, and a roll of her eyes only confirmed her feelings about you. "the fuck is she doing here?" she hisses, her eyes narrowing down on your shrinking figure.

"azzi." nika warns, her tone sharp and motherly. "enough. she's joining the team again." she says, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulders.

you couldn't wipe the way paige's face contorted at the sight of you. her mouth dropped open in shock, her nose crinkling slightly, something she does when shes happy, her eyes widening. the look was enough to leave you shaken for a lifetime, especially since she was still staring you down with the same look.

annoyance flashed across azzi's face, her eyebrows furrowing in anger. "we did just fine without her. why does she need to come back now? just because paige didn't drop 30 on a few games? it's not like she cared any sooner." she ranted, her voice droning and painful to listen to.

the room fell deathly silent, so quiet that you could literally hear kk's breathing.

your face flushed pink. "i think i'll go." you murmur the first words all night, spinning on your heel and ignoring nika and kk's protests, and azzi's obnoxious laughter.

you shut the door behind you, exhaling deeply and leaning against the wall. you try to calm your twisted stomach, or your racing heart, but that only picks up when you hear the door click open beside you.

a tall, very drunk blonde steps out, her bright blue eyes landing on you. before you have time to react, her lips are pressed against yours, a satisfied sigh slipping past her lips.

your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. this is the sole thought that's starred in your head ever since paige had finally left you alone. you thought that's what you wanted.

your hands slide to the nape of her neck, playing with the ends of her ponytail. her large hands slide down to your waist, drawing mindless shapes through your t-shirt.

"m' sorry about azzi." she mutters, pulling away for a moment, taking a deep breath. "i'm just glad you're back. i missed you." her voice is tinged with sympathy and a mix of desire.

"missed you more." you say.

last thing you remember from last night.

you wake up in a frenzy, peeling open your eyes in a too-familiar bed. "shit!" you hiss, throwing the blankets off you. you scramble the floor for your clothes, picking up discarded items and throwing them on. a rustle from the bed reminds you of what a painfully awkward situation you're in.

paige groans, then gasps, a horrible sound cutting through the silence of the apartment.

"y/n?!"

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Crazy For You was so good! Do you think you’ll continue it or write more similar to that?

Crazy For You Too || LN4

Summary: Just a little follow up the morning after part one ended. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, gaslighting, dub/con, dark themes WC: 1k Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

You woke the next morning feeling strangely groggy and hungover, like there was a laden cloud heavy in your mind. There was no way you were going to be able to go to work but you couldn’t find your phone to call your boss. You searched everywhere but it wasn’t where you usually left it. 

With no other option, you padded off down the hall to knock on Lando’s door. 

“Good morning, Mr Riley,” you greeted the elderly man as he approached from the elevator.

“Would you keep it down next time, some of us like to sleep,” he grumbled as he walked on to his door. “You kids and your violent video games. Up at all hours. No respect.”

“Good morning, baby.” Lando opened the door and narrowed his eyes at Mr Riley before he pulled you inside for a kiss, but you were still reeling from the telling off you had just received. Lando looked like he had a late night and just woken up since he was still wearing only his boxers and his hair was a mess on one side and flat on the other. “What was Carl’s problem?”

You shrugged, genuinely perplexed at the entire interaction. “I don’t know.”

He frowned but it was gone as quick as it came. “How did you sleep?”

You shifted on your feet as you rubbed your wrist subconsciously, the ache seemingly coming on overnight. “Not very well. I had a really bizarre dream,” you admitted quietly as you walked further into the apartment. “I’m actually not feeling too good, I was going to call in sick but I can’t find my phone.”

“You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to your body,” he chuckled, handing his phone over. “Call from mine, love. Then we can go back to bed.”

Lando boiled the kettle while you called your boss, apologising for the late notice, but he was kind enough and told you to rest up. Sinking into the couch with a sigh, you placed the phone on the coffee table and dragged a blanket up over your body.

“Here, love, this will make you feel better,” Lando said as he passed you a steaming mug of herbal tea. You inhaled the aroma of lemon and ginger but there was a sweet scent that you couldn’t quite place. 

Taking a sip, you hummed as it soothed your sore throat and snuggled into Lando’s side. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Lando took the cup and placed it on the table. “It must have been something good,” he teased. His hand drifted up your thigh under the blanket and warmth spread across your skin in response. “How are you feeling?”

“Hot,” you replied honestly, the need to remove your clothes suddenly the most sensible thing you could think of. 

He grinned as he moved your trembling hands and pulled your shirt over your head before reaching for the button on your jeans. “Let me help you, baby.”

You moaned as the cool air kissed your skin but it still wasn’t enough. “I need you, Lan, please touch me.”

His eyes darkened as you fell back onto the couch, the blanket discarded so there was nothing hiding you from him. His mouth went dry and he licked his lips before he could use his voice, but still it sounded pained. “Where?”

You couldn’t think clearly with the fire blazing through you and you spread your legs in search of reprieve as you begged, “Everywhere.”

Lando’s lips eased the burning need in your core and his tongue chased away the fire that licked your skin. The room filled with the wanton sounds that erupted when he curled two fingers inside you and you buried your hands in his hair as you rolled your hips. 

One orgasm rolled into the next as the room spun around you, your quick breaths leaving you lightheaded. You didn’t even think about the consequences as you tugged Lando’s hair until he looked up to meet your eyes from where he lay at the juncture of your thighs. “I need you to fuck me right now, please…fuck, what is wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong, baby,” he soothed as he kissed his way up the length of your body before capturing your lips. He absorbed the cry of delight as he filled you in one stroke and the fleeting thought you had was lost when he started to roll his hips with long, slow thrusts. “I love you, god, you have no idea how much I love you, what I would do for you, for us.”

You barely understood his murmurings in your ear as your pleasure mounted and your nails found purchase in his back as you came. 

Finally, the fire began to smoulder and you could breathe again. It was unlike any fever you had ever had and left you exhausted as Lando lay with you along the couch, dragging the blanket back over you as if he knew you were suddenly feeling the cold. 

“Did you say you love me?” you asked as your heart returned to its normal rate, the whispers lingering in your fucked out brain. 

“No,” he chuckled as he kissed your shoulder and wrapped his arm around your waist. 

“Oh.” You felt foolish and your cheeks warmed with an entirely different heat as you started to sit up.

His arm tightened around you, keeping you flush to his naked body before you could escape. “But I’m fucking crazy for you, baby, of course I love you.”

A knot tied in your stomach at the confession but you put it down to the nervousness of admitting that you felt the same. You had never felt this way about a man and the way he treated you was unlike anyone before him. He spoiled you and took care of you, it was natural to fall for him. “I love you too.”

You felt his smile on your nape and his fingers tickled your sides as he drew abstract pictures on your skin. “So move in with me,” he whispered. “This can be us everyday.”

Click here for part three.

[robolvrr]

forged to please. ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

some mild suggestive headcanons. unhealthy dynamics.

sentinel prime x cybertronian secretary

airachnid plucked you from your filing job with unsettling familiarity. you quickly learned after the debrief that her optics, touch and croons were simply an extension of your shared's prime.

his very attention is shattering.

sentinel has no need for actual assistants. your first few cycles don't end up at his doorstep, so in your confusion of servitude you busy with the boring.

analytics. cancelling meetings as he's constant on the surface, rescheduling abandoned polls. when the lights flick you remain obedient at your desk, digits skimming through glass pads.

you do have a cog. however, you still pale in comparison to your coworkers and do not speak out of turn. you're not a miner nor are you cogless — but there are levels to status and you're still at the first couple of rungs on the metaphorical golden ladder.

little did you know, you're being watched. approvingly, even when your helm dares to dip back when your processors prompt recharge.

everyday, you arrive early. place your holopads in neat piles. slip an energon cube from your stack past your cushy, gray dermas and sit straight in your assigned seat.

frame flawless, as expected by a cog. since you don't race or proctor, you're more on the winsome side.

"them? really?"

"yeah. crazy right?" sentinel lazily watches the filmy recording, nestled camera aimed right in the corner. he can see your chassis. your cog and the ridges between your plating. clean. no mining dust. no scratches.

"look at 'em go. do they know that half what i give them is just.. nothing? they're so... so diligent. it's cute, no?"

airachnid shares a sideways glance.

slowly, your office grows more lavish. you notice changes to your desk arrangement. a golden twist of flora at your desktop. new chair, with cushion - a rarity and a treat. a fresh mug of engex earlier than you arrive.

and even slower, your coworkers start to distance farther than even you pushed them. you're being moved around cycles later, to higher floors. the work is a constant buzz that requires the utmost care and attention to detail.

you once question airachnid as she glides by silently just what you're doing here. you ex-vent when she leans forward, pursing her intake at you.

"don't ask questions you don't want answers to. you do good for him, you'll do good for a lifetime."

straightening, you're left unfortunately with more than before and you nervously return to your desk, with a beautiful view of iacon and an inkling that perhaps your constant promotions weren't as perfect as you previously assumed.

[ quota — increased. overtime required. ]

frustration bites as your digits flutter across keys. the office space, grand and empty and dark fills you with impatience. not that you'd dare show it, on the clock.

you guess that overtime still counts, though you prudently knock over data as you arise before you can coach yourself to calmness. you practically live here. serving, serving, all the blasted time. had you not proved your loyalty?

a watchful gaze peers at your aft when you saunter to the lounge, fed up for the day.

the smile directed your way isn't promising.

oh. so you can misbehave.

you practically live at work now. what started as a few assignments seemed to increase tenfold.

you're working overtime but know you're much too high the chain (and for such pointless, needless tasks) to back out.

you have no friends. no coworkers. the pretty knickknacks and golden pens and job security start closing in more like a gilded cage.

when the comm is received, you're almost weak at the joints. you reset your sight system several times at first because you assume it's a prank.

[ your prime requests your presence over the latest report. arrive promptly. ]

you're stumbling towards the elevator like a cyber mouse.

sentinel shouldn't enjoy the way you lose your professionalism. taking peeks in the slivers of mirror and spark no doubt rattling in that little chest of yours.

he shouldn't, in fact, hired you at all. you were a face along with many admirers. and primus, did iacon adore their prime.

he shouldn't have been seeing how much it took to break your mentality, either. a cruel experiment from a bored god of sorts.

and the recordings. airachnid made it clear her opinions of his.... enjoyment while you worked in element.

sometime in the toying, he's scrutinizing your frame. you barely make it up to his knee. your alt-mode upon a curious search isn't particularly flashy.

is that why he's so drawn to you? because you wallflower yourself, determined to hide despite the haven he's forced you in?

perhaps. or, he just hasn't had his fix yet.

the racers are always fun to play with. they lick, bite and rev when he chuckles his praise.

he's never been in a position of power like this though and taken that step over the line and suddenly, he rubs the kibble on his chin imagining you staring back at him, bent over, servos tied at the back of your waist.

his processor wanders. you, with flushed cheek plates. you, calling him boss. prime. whatever he fancied more. crawling towards him, balancing a glass of sweet, high-grade on your aft while he chats it away.

"my prime?"

sentinel does not turn to you, at first. you can see his wings, large and flawless. when he turns in his seat, you think perhaps the rumors of primes and their bright, piercing neons were true.

he grins. grandeur rolls off his glossa and you're shocked he knows your designation. as if he senses your shock he reassures he knows because he's kept close to your progress.

"you look tired. what good are you if not rested?"

sheepishly, your helm tilts away, tries to avoid the observation by curling into yourself. it's the funniest and most pathetic thing he's seen in awhile.

he leans forward, but not down to you. sentinel just invades your space because it's his.

you're his.

cutting off your stammers because he'd rather hear them in a more fitting context - fit, he wouldn't - his gesture tempts you closer. there is no need for collar and leash, not when this whole city dances at his every word.

you miss how his stare bores into you. peels back metal, cord and wire.

"listen. i couldn't bear my best struggling. but i also have to be firm. this great city, all of your fellow cybertronians, play a part in something bigger. which means... that work can't be unfinished."

he does not miss how you flinch. where are those kliks of rebellion? those whispered utterances of his name and hoping he'd be knocked down a peg?

"it can't slow down. in order to keep the spark of this very place alive, we all keep it turning."

he can sense your guilt. recall all the times you've actually cursed quietly, kicked at your desk, cried in the refreshers. cute.

"so i do have to ask. because if you can't handle it, i would rather you tell me right here, right now. no hard feelings."

the hopeful look almost makes him break out into laughter. and just like you're programmed, you look at him only when he nods, trying to find out what he wants.

"no. no, i can. i want to do more. want to be more." for you.

"then show me."

as much as he wanted to crack you open right then and there, he was curious how you would take his offer.

would you scorn him out like those endless nights? step back and make excuses? or would you surprise him?

his weight slides in the crushed velvet of his towering throne, watching as you bend.

your head meets the floor. his optic ridge ticks towards the sky.

"tell me what to do and your will is mine."

the prime hums.

well, now you're just making this too easy.

robolvrr 2024.