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sytoran · 9 months ago

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home is where the heart is ★ n.r

— 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ;; 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 & 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇

in which your married life with natasha romanoff is depicted through this comedy-drama series. with your dream job, three kids, and a plethora of friends, each day is blissful but all the more chaotic and unpredictable. (and ultimately, very horny.)

pairing ★ sub!wife!natasha x beefy!butch!reader

chapter summary ★ twitter's sole purpose is for you to thirst over your wife, the beach is a good place to spend time with your kids, and ogle at your wife in a bathing suit, but not a great a place to have sex. (lesson learnt).

warnings ★ (MINORS DNI) - explicit content, hard stuff: beach sex, doggy style, cunnilingus, daddy kink, SO MUCH thirsting

word count ★ 4.0k (get fed gremlins)

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

*****

In tandem with Tony Stark’s spontaneity, Steve Rogers’ unending enthusiasm, and the fact that you privately owned close to twenty beach resorts in New York alone, the lot of you and your other friends had a beach outing planned for that Sunday.

After the astronomically long time it took to get your kids dressed, beach toys packed, picnic dinner prepared, and everything loaded into the car, five happy L/N-Romanoffs finally kickstart their journey to the Westview Surfers’ Beach.

“SAND!” Emilia roars maniacally, once the five of you step foot onto the sandy shore. She’s gone like the ocean breeze, sprinting into the distance, grains of sand flying everywhere.

“Sea! Sea! Sea!” Emilio is equally as excited, already by the tide of the brilliantly blue ocean, following its ebb and flow with scampering feet and delighted cries.

“Careful, Emilio!” Marina says, holding his hand, preventing her over excited brother from falling over. You can see the way she laughs along, kicking up water with her slippers.

Behind your eager children, you swing you and Natasha’s interlocked hands as you casually stroll along the beach, giving her a sweet smile.

The sand that crunched beneath your feet was earthen and dry, such a gentle hue of gold, almost as grounding as the bright smile your wife returned.

“You look heavenly,” you murmur, bringing up the underside of your wife’s palm to press a gentle kiss to it. She flushes prettily, the sundress she’s adorning doing wonders to her skin tone and curves.

Natasha returns the softness, pressing into your side as you wrap a firm arm around her waist, hand cupping the curve of her motherly hips.

“Oy, lovebirds!”

At the sound of a distinctly familiar voice, you and Natasha spin around with bemused looks. From a distance, you can see Tony with a flamingo floatie around his hips, waving comically.

Next to him, the regular gang is sprawled across three separate picnic mats, conveniently hidden from the sun under several large beach umbrellas.

Pepper is fixing up Tony’s floatie, to which Carol and Valkyrie snicker at from afar. Thor is asleep on the mats, taking up more than half the area. Laura is busy reading, with Clint probably gone to find seashells for the sandcastle Bucky and Steve are constructing. The kids make a long human chain from the shore to the sandcastle, scooping up buckets of water to make a trench.

“Aunty Y/N! Aunty Nat!” Nathaniel squeals, dropping his bucket, running over and leaping into your arms.

“What’s up, you little rascal?” you ask, laughing as the youngest Barton giggles. Natasha ruffles his head, waving at Lila.

Morgan, being the same age as Emilia and Emilio, is already chatting excitedly with them and kicking up a loud racket. Marina joins Cooper in attaining bucketfuls of seawater.

“What’s up, my favourite lesbians?” Tony calls out to you and Natasha with outstretched arms, comically ignorant to the death-glare Valkyrie shoots him.

Natasha rolls her eyes in faux annoyance, strolling past him and brightening up animatedly to chat with the ladies. You pat Tony’s back sympathetically.

Your attention flits to an impressively large sandcastle with a sculpture of a mermaid on top, hand-crafted by Steve and Bucky. Leaning closer to Tony, you whisper, “Why does the mermaid kinda look like you?”

Leaving him to splutter at his intentionally uncanny resemblance to the mermaid, with a seashell bra and an elegant tail, you look up to see Clint coming back with his arms full of seashells.

“Hi, Y/N!” He greets distractedly. In the midst of his frantic haste, Clint’s foot gets caught on a stray rock —

And the rest is a scene out of a comedy movie.

The seashells go flying out of his arms, scattering onto the picnic mat and spraying sand everywhere, Clint loses his balance and flies forward, outstretched arms knock into the sandcastle, and everyone watches in horror as Steve and Bucky’s great unfinished symphony comes crumbling down, leaving only the head of Tony’s mermaid untouched.

A quiet hush falls.

Bucky and Steve’s faces are morphed into disbelief and heartbreak, and Clint trembles in fear with sand in his mouth. Tony shudders at his beheaded mermaid, the ladies have their hands over their mouths, and Natasha fights battles in order not to burst out laughing. Thor sleeps unperturbed, and even the kids' racket has died down.

“Well,” you announce, breaking the stunned silence. “Who wants to go surfing?”

*****

As Natasha lazes in a beach chair, away from the gory scene of Steve and Bucky dunking Clint in the seawater, she watches you with a budding fire in her belly.

Standing on the sand so casually, you have your hefty surfboard tucked under one arm, and Emilio in your other. You’re speaking to him with a roguish grin, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind, tinted sunglasses pushed up to muss up your perfectly tousled hair.

“You ready to ride the waves, bub?”

“Yeah! I’m ready!”

Your wife swallows, thinking she was ready to ride something else.

Natasha crosses her legs unsubtly. It was honestly unfair, how indifferently attractive you were, like it was a state of being instead of a practised art.

Perhaps it was her love for you and the longevity of your marriage that warped her perception of sexiness, but when you were casually strolling on the beach with that chiselled abdomen on display, who was she to be blamed?

“Y/N!” Natasha calls, sitting up slightly. There’s a devious little idea blooming in the back of her mind, and she feels like taking the bait, just for today.

You look up at your wife’s beckoning, and smile widely at her. Setting Emilio down gingerly and calling him a “little rascal”, you jog over to Natasha easily.

When you flick your hair back, it glints in the sunlight, and so does the sheen of sweat under your sports bra, defining the cutting edges of your abdomen. Natasha has the criminal urge to rip off your swimming trunks there and then.

Despite your obliviousness, Natasha is more than well-aware of the stares you’re getting from young women and married women alike, momentarily disregarding their boyfriends and husbands to gawk at you.

“Damn, look at that fine specimen!”

“Ryan, why don’t you work out more?”

“There goes my heterosexuality.”

You get feasted upon hungry eyes like a slab of beef, likened to your beefiness, but it only makes Natasha’s possessiveness skyrocket.

“Hey, honey,” you say, settling on a low and inviting tone that has your wife blushing. You crouch down next to her beach chair, holding her hand in a sweet gesture. “What’s up?”

You’re close to her, so close, and she can feel the heat radiating off you, and your distinct scent, and the overwhelming senses of want and need are washing over Natasha like those tidal waves in the ocean.

But well, Natasha knew more than a few ways to rile you up too.

“I think I want to go surfing too,” she lies through her teeth, having no inclination to partake in the sport. Natasha fakes a pout all too well, knowing it’s one of your many weaknesses. “But the sun’s really hot out there, so I need some help with the sunscreen.”

It wasn’t like she’d have needed it, anyway. Just like that and you’re sold, ever the gentleman and the golden retriever, digging for the sunscreen in the duffel bag.

“Of course, honey,” you reply readily. “Is it the Banana Boat sunscreen, or is that the kids’ one? Oh wait, we have the SPF 50 one, I think that’s—”

Words trail off comically when you look back up at Natasha, gradually dying down completely.

Your wife has conveniently slid off her outer layer of a sheer white blouse, leaving her in just a matching two-piece set of an azure bathing suit. The top piece is held together with thin pieces of string, accentuating her chest in a tight cradle. The lack of coverage shows off the dip of her hips and her soft curves.

Coherent thoughts in your mindwires get severed as Natasha plays with the string on her bottom piece, nearly flashing you as the material slides down ever so slightly. Your throat dries up as her fingers trail a path over her tummy and cleavage. She plays with another bundle of string that keeps her chest barely covered, and the irresistible urge rises within you to undo it.

“My eyes are up here, y’know,” Natasha murmurs, laying on her side and looking at you through lowered lashes.

“I know where they are,” you answer hoarsely, gaze still fixated on your wife’s enticing cleavage.

The sheer amount of bare skin that Natasha is showing off has your remaining fragments of sanity falling to pieces. There’s no point even trying to hide the tent in your pants, poking uncomfortably against the fabric.

“Gonna help me lather sunscreen?” Natasha asks with a silky lilt to her voice, turning over on the beach chair.

You groan out loud when you see the curve of your wife’s ass on display, her rounded bottom barely covered by a few measly pieces of material, all held together by flimsy strings and nothing else.

“Mhm,” you respond brainlessly, uncapping the bottle and rubbing your hands with a bountiful amount of the moisture, clearly in excess.

You begin applying your wife’s sunscreen with overzealous eagerness and desire. Large hands spread unnecessarily widely as you gain coverage over the soft skin of her back, trailing up and down and smearing the white moisture over her soft skin.

“Oh, that feels nice,” Natasha says airily, a dainty little sound that causes your cock to twitch in your shorts.

The line down the middle of Natasha’s back is emphasised as she tenses and relaxes it. Like clockwork, you begin massaging your wife’s back to release the tension in her muscles.

“Y/N…” The breathy moan she lets out is pure heaven, dragged out from the depths of her throat, then lifting to a higher tone that washes over you in a sea of goosebumps.

Of course, your faux masseuse skillset is just a simple ploy to grope and knead at Natasha. Fat spills through your fingers as you spread your hands across her torso, as Natasha whines softly.

It wouldn’t take a genius to realise that the heat building between the two of you was not just due to the heatwaves under the beating, unforgiving sun.

Your frighteningly quickly-growing arousal only heightens when Natasha feels that her back is done and flips over. Face-to-face with her hefty mounds, a round belly, and the blown pupils of viridescent eyes — you lose the plot completely.

Deft hands fly to your wife’s ample assets, squeezing her hips in sinful amounts and staking your claim. “You’re so pretty, baby,” you mumble, face buried into the crook of her neck, subtly mouthing at her neck.

“Mhm,” Natasha whines in agreement, but it turns into a gasp as your fingers slip underneath the material of her bra, plucking at hardened nipples in merciless haste.

You press down onto her, flat tongue and sharp teeth, licking a broad stripe up your wife’s exposed collarbone to the tender column of her neck.

Before you can taint clear skin with raging-purple bruises, you’re pulled away with a firm grip on the back of your neck. You look back up to see Natasha gazing at you sternly.

“Let’s try not to perpetuate public sex while you are the owner of this place, with all our friends present, and the kids building sandcastles no less than ten feet away.”

Much to your disgruntlement, these factors weigh in heavily and overpower your body’s built-in “pretty-wife-need-to-worship” mechanic. Now, your shorts fill up a lot more space than need be, your shaft pressing hot and tight against your left leg, clearly visible.

You grumble, hands still clammy with sunblock, the ghost of Natasha’s warmth still interlaced between each of your fingers. “You’re a meanie,” you sulk, lust-driven adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Natasha looks at you with a wicked smile. “And you’re too susceptible, darling. Now, where’s my flask? I plan on staying plenty hydrated before watching you rough it out against the waves.”

Clearly put-off by not being able to fuck your wife in your public beach resort, you flip off a little kid who openly ogles at Natasha’s ass, much to your wife’s horror.

*****

“I’M NOT BUILT FOR THIS!” Tony screams, arms flailing, as he rides a shallow wave. His firmly implanted foot adds too much weight on the front of his neon yellow surfboard, and the over-eager man overturns comically as the current rushes.

You laugh out loud, Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind, surfing past Tony in a smooth motion. “Stick to the flamingo floatie, little guy!”

Valkyrie barely dodges the splash Tony creates, nearly falling off her own board. “Fuck off, you cunt!” she yells, full-chested and deadly focused on the tide. From a distance in the shallower part of the ocean, a reprimanding “Language!” can be heard.

Natasha’s wading in the shallower waters with Laura, while Thor had opted to sun tan on the beach while watching the kids.

As a large wave approaches, Natasha watches with intent. Upon your wife’s new found attention, you mentally prepare yourself, determined to impress her, and perhaps get revenge for her prior ploy.

You manoeuvre deftly, putting weight on your back foot to stabilise as you approach the wave head-on. Three… two… one. You add even more weight on your back foot as you go around the back turn while gaining speed, garnering energy like a coiled spring.

As the wave reaches its full height, broad and steep, your calves release with impact, propelling up the barrel of the wave like a spring. The surfboard moves in effortless motion, anchored by your back foot, navigated by your right.

The second you reach the lip of the wave, you find the sweet spot to execute the backside tail slide. You rotate your wide-set shoulders, swiftly switching the pressure to your front foot.

Your surfboard glides off the surface for a split-second, turning mid-air — there’s a camera-worthy frame of damp hair, stray droplets, and focused eyes.

You slide back down at an oblique angle with purpose and precision, like a scene out of a movie, locking eyes with Natasha as the wave crashes behind you.

“Damn, Y/N!” Carol hoots, looking amazed as you surf back to the rest of the gang.

“That was crazy,” Steve adds, resting belly-down onto the surfboard, strikingly adorable for a hulking man.

“Gotta admit, that was pretty cool,” Tony comments, his head bobbing above the surface of the water and his surfboard nowhere to be found.

You laugh along with them, attempting to explain the technical jargon of how you did it. But as much as you appreciated your friends’ enthusiasm, there was ultimately only one person you sought validation from.

“Hi,” you say to Natasha with a stupid smile, sitting on your surfboard, having escaped the rest.

“That was very sexy of you,” your wife wastes no time in stating, as if she wasn’t five millimetres away from flashing you and killing you with her sexiness.

Natasha is stuck on the image of your damp hair flying into place like a scene out of a superhero movie, unbuttoned shirt flailing up to expose your defined back and abdomen, concentration flashing in your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum lowly. Fire burns low in your belly as you ogle your wife in her bathing suit, pulling her closer by the underside of her thighs.

In a moment of indiscretion, your left hand slips upwards and undoes the knot on Natasha’s bathing suit, letting the material slip from your fingers.

“Y/N!” Though blocked from view of the others as it was underwater, Natasha lets out a breathy gasp and presses into you. Her cunt, already soaked before, gets even wetter at the intrusion of seawater.

“Can I claim my prize?” you ask heavily, hot pants against your wife’s ear, driving her wild with the way your fingers slip through her folds to encroach on her entrance.

In no time at all, two of your fingers are at Natasha’s cunt, feeling slick even underwater, and you push in—

“Group picture!” Steve yells from a distance, as you and your wife effectively leap apart in the water, the heated moment dissipated into thin air.

But it lingers, the arousal, swimming in the back of your consciousness as you smile for a group selfie. Bucky’s arm is around you but you thank the heavens for hiding your erection under the water.

You can tell Natasha feels the same, eyes locking on you even after Steve successfully takes the group picture. (After many attempts.)

“I’m gonna go check on the kids,” Natasha finally says, gesturing back as if she was going to walk back to shore. She’s expectant, waiting.

“And I think I’m gonna go check with her!” you add, chuckling awkwardly, beckoning backwards with your thumbs.

“Okay,” Steve says disbelievingly, eyes glimmering with knowing and just a little amusement. Tony is much less subtle in his sniggering, and Clint looks horrified at the prospect of doing it at the beach.

Tony claps you on the back as you walk past. “Use protection,” he whispers, and you fumble out a haphazard response.

*****

Turns out, you and Natasha don’t even make it to a completely secluded area before you’re half-undressed and panting.

And maybe that’s half the thrill, hidden in a secluded beach cave, with regular people roaming around just outside. You’re pressed skin-to-skin with each other and tuning out everything else.

You groan as you snap the strings of Natasha’s bathing suit off, finally, finally. Teardrop tits bounce in place, shaking with the impact of how hard you jerk against your wife, unbearably uncomfortable in the constraints of your boxers.

Natasha takes mercy on you, helping you to tug down your Calvin Clein briefs, watching with heady arousal as your shaft slaps against your six-pack, red and raw and leaking.

“Hurry up,” Natasha whines, bending over and clutching at a stray rock, ass in the air as she exposes her leaking cunt to you.

“Fuck, baby,” you groan, grabbing onto her ass and slapping it just because you can. You sink deep into your wife, warmth and relief enveloping you as you bury yourself inside her.

The first thrust is like heaven, feeling the pulse and push of Natasha’s walls as she accommodates to take your size, stretching to a familiar extent because you’d made a nest in there for yourself.

The second thrust takes you there, an insurgent amount of slick coating your cock, flooding the path you proceed to pummel into. “Natty,” you whine, groping at her ass and pulling it closer to you, hilt-deep with no signs of stopping.

“Mhm, daddy,” Natasha moans, walls fluttering around you as you pull out, trying to stop your escape. But then you thrust forward, again, warm and full and deep, and your wife wails beneath you.

Natasha lets this velvet sound from her throat, silky and coated in honey as she breathes reinvigorated life into your arousal.

“Fuck,” you growl, rutting your hips with more rigour. Natasha whines, wrists suspended behind her back with one of your hands as you have your way with her.

“Baby I’m gonna come,” you gasp, virility cloaking the way your abdomen presses up against Natasha, left hand encircling her neck to bring your hot mouth up to hers.

You’re hardly embarrassed for how fast you’re barrelling towards climax, as Natasha is in much more of the same position. She’s panting your name, clutching at the rocks with hard sand digging into her feet. Your cock nudges and prods into her sweet spots effortlessly, the result of countless sex experiences.

“M-me too,” she responds breathily, breaking off into a whine as you press heated, open-mouthed kisses along the line of her back, tasting the salt and sweat on your tongue.

Pleasure blossoms in your lower torso, creeping up the base of your shaft and working its way upwards. Hot arousal overflows from its constraints, and your teeth sinks into your bottom lip as you come, quick and hot and messy.

“Oh!” Natasha moans, high-pitched and sensitive, as you pluck at her ruby-hard nipples. It only takes a few more thrusts for her to reach release, dripping down your cock and her thighs.

“Mhm, nhn—” As your wife raises in pitch and volume, you stuff three fingers into her open mouth, giving her something to suck on and remain quiet. You continue with gentle thrusts, feeling thick white liquid flow out the side of Natasha’s ruined cunt.

“Needa taste you,” you suddenly grunt, hips bumping into Natasha’s ass. She babbles her agreement, despite being half-conscious in a state of post-orgasmic pleasure.

Easily, you lift Natasha and set her down onto the sandy shore of the beach cave, where the tide is low and washes over your feet gently.

It’s a change of pace, a gradual end to your savage ravaging, slow and sensual, where the water meets the sand. You lower yourself between Natasha’s spread thighs, lips slightly parted and dripping with need.

Natasha swallows audibly, right hand twisting into your tousled hair, looking at you through hooded eyes and lowered lashes.

Words are left unspoken between the two of you, the tension speaking for itself, as you retain eye contact while lowering your mouth onto Natasha’s pulsing cunt.

You take your last breath of the fresh sea salt air and summer breeze before drowning in unbridled desire. As if making out passionately, you eat your wife out, switching between licking and sucking.

Poetry is written between the lines — the lilt of Natasha’s hitched breath, the crease of her thighs where your fingertips drag across, the shallow water that wades over your feet in a cool decrescendo.

Your head dips down once more, warm and wet, and the sun melts into the horizon, glazing golden and liquid orange.

With your tongue lodged fully inside your wife’s pussy, marking your inability to breathe, and wide hands spread firmly over Natasha’s thighs, the two of you converge in saintly devotion, hushed worship falling from her lips.

“Please, just like that, please, daddy, please.”

Just like that, and the ocean swallows you whole, taking you under Natasha’s hold inescapably. Your name is said in a breathless cry, lilting and pronounced, and you shudder between her clenched thighs.

“Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“I think there’s ocean water up my asshole.”

“Yeah, I got some sand up my vagina too.”

*****

and that's chapter two of 'hiwthi'! how did yall feel about the introduction of the rest of the cast? i personally enjoyed writing the build-up scenes the most. (sunscreen and surfing!) and for those keen on expanding the family dynamic, i'll be building on that in the next chapter!

reblog or i will take 292857192 years to post the next part

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

#⋆⭒˚｡★ home is where the heart is #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader smut #wlw smut #gxg smut #marvel smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x reader smut #top reader #sub natasha romanoff #dom reader #bottom natasha romanoff #butch4femme #butch reader #femme4butch

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besottedbyher · 20 days ago

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The Neighbor

Masterlist

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

Emily Prentiss has a new neighbor… unbeknownst to her, they can see directly into her bedroom from their window…

Warnings: smut, voyeurism (slight stalking if you think about it)

Word count: 9k (SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY)

Available on ao3

Taglist: @chestnutninny @maximoffwitch

Placing the last of the moving box contents on the shelf in your living room, you let out a sigh. It had been a stressful week.

Moving into a new apartment, in a new city, and starting a new job was not for the weak of heart. You cut the taped seams of the box, folded it up, and placed it in a neat pile with the other disregarded cardboard slabs.

Trudging into your shiny kitchen, you reached for the fresh bottle of wine on the counter and cracked it open. Pouring yourself a decent helping of the flaxen liquid before plopping onto the couch. With another sigh, you stretched over to the side table and picked up the TV remote. Flipping through Netflix for a while before deciding on a true crime series. You settled in against the couch cushion and pressed play.

The sun had just begun to set and the open blinds were letting an orange tint fall over the carpet in streaks. You had to admit this apartment was much nicer than any you’ve had before. Only thanks to your new job, of course.

Before you knew it, the series credits were rolling and the apartment was overtaken by the cover of night, the only illumination in the room being your TV and a small candle on the counter.

You got off the couch and made your way towards the bedroom, grabbing a pair of loose boxers, and a t-shirt from the dresser, throwing your hair up into a knot before heading into the bathroom for a much-needed shower. The feeling of near-scalding water was an instant relief to your strained muscles, all the heavy lifting you’ve done the past few days causing quite a tension in your back.

Once you were out of the shower and feeling refreshed, you applied your usual skincare regime, then slathered your body in its entirety with your favorite lotion. You pulled the tie from your hair and shook it out, attempting to tame the mess it had made of itself.

Once satisfied, you sauntered back out to the living room. Blowing out the candle that was still burning and crossed the room, sights set on closing the blinds for the night.

But once you reached the large floor-to-ceiling window, something else beyond caught your eye.

The building you had moved into was built in a sort of ‘U’ shape. Your apartment, being on the inner side of the building, gave you a direct view of the small courtyard below. It also gave you a direct view of the neighboring apartments on the other side of the courtyard.

The yard itself couldn’t be more than 50 feet across, and that just so happened to be the perfect distance to gaze directly into your neighbor's window.

You gripped the pull chord, but your breath caught in your throat upon realizing what you were looking at.

It was a woman, tall and svelte. And from what you could see, insanely beautiful. Her long, dark silver hair shone in the luminance from the bedside lamp she had just switched on. She was almost fully nude, aside from the black panties and bralette adorning her ample bosom.

Looking a bit past her, you noticed another figure come into view.

It was, or at least you thought it was, an older gentleman. But when they pulled their shirt off, you were met with a surprising pair of breasts.

An elder butch?? Nice. You shook away the subconscious thought.

You continued watching as the pair latched onto each other, the taller woman running her long fingers through the short locks of the latter while their lips locked with a fiery passion. They fell onto the mattress, femme straddling the butch’s lap.

You felt a pang deep in your belly, knocking you back into reality.

A rush of guilt ran over you as you turned away from the window, averting your gaze from the vulgar scene. You had never been into the act of voyeurism before, especially in this capacity.

But something was stirring within you at the thought of watching more. Another pang hitting your core at the thought of watching your beautiful neighbor take her partner’s fingers in earnest.

Against your better judgment, you looked through the blinds again. Biting your lip you took in the scene once more.

The femme had begun kissing down her partner's chest, the muscles in her back bending and flexing beneath the skin.

An unforeseen moan left your throat as the woman took a nipple into her mouth. Your hand shot up to your mouth in surprise but soon began tracing the skin of it as you became enamored by the view.

The woman had been flipped over and was now on the receiving end of her partner’s ministrations. A thick hand covers the woman’s clothed center, her head rolling backward as she ground into her partner's palm.

You couldn’t help but reach down and press against your own underwear. The fabric, already damp with the heat and intensity of your arousal. Pushing the leg-band to the side, you ran a finger through your slit. A bit astonished by the amount of arousal that has accumulated.

You continued watching as your neighbor’s actions grew more lewd by the minute. Tongues against mouth and skin, fingers touching in areas you never should have seen. But still, you couldn’t peel yourself away from the window.

That is until the long-haired woman fell backward, her head nearly hanging off the end of the bed as the other woman began dragging her tongue down her torso and towards her center. Her eyes seemed to look directly at you as she gasped at the contact of her lover's tongue.

Your stomach immediately dropped and you jumped away from the window, pulling your hand out from your boxers. The embarrassment and guilt began filling your cheeks with a hot flush.

You waited a moment before peeking out the window again, making sure you were in the clear to exit. To your surprise, her curtains had been shut. You felt slightly disappointed, but the overwhelming concern for your sanity soon sealed that.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you went back to the bathroom to clean yourself up before flopping into your bed and letting sleep slowly consume you.

…

Over the next few days, you had been hyper-aware of your surroundings whilst leaving the building for work. You were petrified by the thought of running into the beautiful woman who’d inevitably caught you watching her personal affairs through the window.

Luckily enough, the past week has been very successful.

You hadn’t seen her at all, not even through the window, and you were hoping that you never would.

But today you weren’t so lucky.

It had been a stressful day at the office, and all you wanted was to relax in your apartment. You’d ordered some Chinese takeout and had gone down to the foyer to retrieve it.

Just as you were about to pay the man, a flash of metallic hair came through the entrance.

Your heart nearly dropped out of your ass as you made eye contact with the silver fox. Her deep brown irises practically melt you into a pile of nothing.

What made it even worse was the stupid smirk she wore as she held your gaze while walking past. The scent of her musky perfume and cigarettes trailing close behind.

She was taller than you thought she’d be, just a few inches more than you, also taking into account the heeled boots she wore. She was dressed in a blood-red silk blouse, black wide-legged trousers, and a matching blazer that hung in the bend of her elbow.

“Ma’am?” The delivery driver interrupted.

“I- sorry… here...” You handed him a twenty and turned around to head reluctantly towards the elevator.

You hoped that you wouldn’t be stuck in there with her, but of course, as you rounded the corner… her hand flung out and stopped the closing door, holding it open for you.

You sighed, wishing that some greater force would just take you out right then and there.

“Thanks…” you spoke sheepishly, avoiding her eyes as she smiled at you. You reached past her to press your floor number but quickly realized she lived on the same floor.

“Same floor, huh?” She questioned, her voice husky. You felt a tickle in your belly at the tone.

“Seems like it, aha…” You replied, still avoiding her gaze and leaning against the wall.

She mirrored your position on the opposite side. You could feel her eyes on you and it made your anxiety skyrocket, but it also made you feel some other type of way.

I wonder if she actually knows it was me… or is it just my brain playing tricks on me? You thought to yourself.

“That smells good. Whatcha get?” She asks, and you finally manage to look up at her. Her eyes were already locked on you as she chewed her gum with a smile.

“Oh, just some chicken and lo mein.” You gave her a tight smile then bit your bottom lip. She only hummed in response, but you caught how her eyes fell to your mouth at the action. You couldn’t help but blush and subsequently dip your head in avoidance of her gaze once again.

“How come I haven’t seen you around here before?” Her tone was a bit softer now, questioning.

“I moved in just over a week ago, actually… so I haven’t had much time for things other than unpacking and work.” you swung the take-out bag back and forth idly, trying to distract yourself from the inappropriate memories of the woman attempting to resurface.

“I see, how’s unpacking coming?” The bell signifying that you’ve reached the floor chimed.

“It’s coming... Work keeps me busier than I’d like to be.” You chuckled halfheartedly to yourself, stepping through the elevator doors and pausing to wait for her, nervously.

“I completely understand… Well, if you ever need help with that or anything else I’m in 63B… or...” She smirks, pulling a card from her purse and passing it to you. “Here’s my contact info.”

You hesitantly reached out to take it, somewhat dumbfounded that she had her very own business cards. Upon inspecting it further, you noticed something even more intimidating.

“Huh, I would not have pegged you as FBI… Emily Prentiss?” you looked up at her, quirking a brow.

“There are a lot of things you wouldn’t peg about me…” She quipped, tilting her head in question to signify you give her your name as well.

“Y/n, Y/n Y/l/n.” you answered, smiling softly.

“Well it was lovely to meet you Y/n, although I must get going.. wouldn’t want you to be eating cold food, right?” She chuckled, and you blushed at her kind comment.

“Nice to meet you as well. Have a good night!” You smiled, giving her a shy wave before starting towards the direction of your apartment.

“You too, hon… Oh, and Y/n?” you spun around at the call of your name. “Next time you wanna watch… just give me a call.” she waved her finger at the card that was still in your hand and smiled devilishly.

You stood there, watching, mouth agape in shock as she spun around laughing, and began striding towards her apartment.

My god, this woman will be the death of me.

…

After finally managing to calm yourself down enough to eat without choking, you figured a little binge-watching on the couch with a bowl of ice cream would make for a wonderful end to your rather eventful night.

Curled up against a throw pillow, with a chilled bowl of your favorite Ben & Jerry’s on your blanket-covered lap, you pressed play on your most recently watched series.

Once the bowl was finished and long forgotten on the side table, you scooted over the cushions to lay down and pull the blanket over your shoulders. Your eyes eventually grew heavy, blinking slower and slower, inevitably letting the angels of slumber take you under.

Until, of course, the phone buzzed loudly on the pillow next to you. You groaned, reaching for it and squinting at the brightness of the screen.

Unknown number?

With a slightly confused expression, you unlocked the phone and opened the message.

“Hey stranger… open your blinds.”

Uh oh.

Somehow, you were now more awake than you had been all day. Sitting up, you began typing with shaky hands.

“How did you get my number?”

“Did you forget my line of work already, baby?” a shudder ran through you at the pet name.

“So I see… and what if I don’t?” The courage you had over text was almost laughable in comparison to what you had felt in the elevator.

“Just do it.” The excitement thrumming inside your chest threatened to burst at the demand.

That being said, you stood up and padded over to the window. Grabbing the lift chord between your thumb and index, you took a deep breath before quickly pulling it.

Upon raising your eyes to her apartment, you let out a gasp. There she was, Emily Prentiss in all her magnificent glory.

She had pulled a chair over to the window and was sitting cross-legged, draped in a silk robe. A similar shade as the blouse she had on earlier that day. Her silver hair cascaded past her shoulders, framing her face in a seductive shadow. And even with the distance between windows, you could tell she was wearing that devious smirk.

You watched as her gaze fell towards the phone in her lap, she picked it up and began typing.

“Do you like what you see, Y/n?”

“Yes.” you let out a shaky breath as you looked back out the window.

She placed the phone on the table next to the chair and placed her hands in her lap. She began pulling at the ties of her robe, letting them fall to the side.

You felt your heart skip a beat and your breath catch in your throat at the sight.

Her slender fingers trailed over the folded neckline, before dipping beneath and pulling it open, bringing the black lace teddy she wore underneath into view.

You thought you might drop dead at that very moment. The oversized T-shirt and sleep shorts you had on were a bit embarrassing in contrast. But alas, you were too engrossed in Emily’s teasing to care all that much.

Her hands ran down the length of her torso and down to her toned thighs, slowly spreading them apart. Your knees felt weak, and your palms sweaty. You wanted nothing more than to spread those legs with your own hands, letting yourself fall in between them to taste her.

A flush spread through you at the thought, chest and cheeks growing rosey.

She raised her left hand, running through her hair and flipping it to one side. The latter continued its journey back up her torso, toying with the bits of lace at the edge of her top.

With a slackened jaw, you stepped backward and sat on the edge of the couch, mirroring her position. And with a burst of courage, you picked up the phone again, hesitating a bit before finally deciding to press the call button.

It only rang once before the older woman answered.

“Mm.. that was bold.” She purred, her eyes aimed directly at you through the window.

“I wanna hear you...” Your voice was soft and breathy, the arousal seeping into your ability to control it.

“Hear me what?” She quirked a brow.

“I want to hear it when you touch yourself.”

“Oh, you do? And what makes you think I’m gonna touch myself?” Her tone was condescending, but you watched as she scooted forward in the seat, leaning back against the chair.

“I’ll do it if you do.” Your breathing was slightly labored, the excitement in your chest causing a chill to run through your body.

“Hmm, that does sound like a good deal…” she paused for a moment, seemingly in thought. “Take off that shirt for me, Angel.” She whispered seductively into the microphone.

You whimpered, your sex ache with desire and begging for some sort of relief.

“Yes ma’am.” You quickly placed the phone on the arm of the couch and began pulling the large shirt over your head, tossing it behind you carelessly. Emily hummed in response to your eagerness.

“So eager to please… I love it.” Her voice is like velvet in your ears, pulling another soft noise from your throat. You sat with attention, hands placed patiently in your lap, awaiting further instruction.

“Play with your nipples for me, baby. Nice and slow.”

Without hesitation you brought your fingers to your mouth, wetting the tips with a swipe of your tongue, then dragging them over an already stiffened bud. You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, holding back the noises threatening to escape.

“Good girl… so pretty, on display for everyone to see, but so needy for me.” Her eyes blackened as they watched you touch yourself. You couldn’t hold back the soft groan as you pinched your nipple, pulling it lightly before switching to the other side and doing the same.

Emily let out a soft moan, her free hand began to trail down her torso again. She squeezed at her own thighs, spreading them open further.

“Can I see yours, too?” You sounded almost innocent in asking, but the way you burned and ached for her was nowhere near it.

“Say please.”

“Please… let me see you, Emily.” Your voice came out almost like a whine. She smiled, pressing the speaker button on the phone before placing it back on the side table.

You watched as she shrugged the silk robe off and brought her nimble fingers up to the straps of her teddy, looping around the fabric and slowly tugging them down.

You were practically panting like a dog as she revealed the freckled flesh at an agonizing pace.

Once the hem was low enough, her breasts fell out of the cups with ease. Dusky nipples on full display and standing proudly.

You bite your lip to stifle the scream of excitement you so badly want to release.

Emily chuckles softly, bringing her hands up to squeeze at the heavy flesh of her breasts. She throws her chin up and smiles brightly.

“Jesus, Emily…” you sigh, running a hand over your hair to pull the damp strands away from your face, then sliding the same hand back down to your chest.

Then, to test the waters, you drug your nails down the softness of your stomach, dancing over the waistband of your shorts and lower to cup your covered center.

“You’re so fucking hot, I can’t stand it.” You desperately laughed, brows furrowed and thighs squeezing together for some semblance of relief.

“Watch that hand, Y/n…” Her voice was deep and you couldn’t help but release an audible groan, fussing at the idea of waiting.

“Impatient, are we?” She folded her arms across her bare chest, you hmphed at the loss. “Because I will gladly end this call right now.”

Immediately you corrected your position, folding your hands in your lap.

“That’s what I thought… wouldn’t want that now, right?”

“No, ma’am. Just tell me what you want me to do. Anything, please.” She was amused by your begging, letting out a low chuckle at the desperation in your voice.

“Take those shorts off and spread your legs.” The demand was abrupt, and it caused your pulse to jump. You sat in silence for a moment, she noticed your hesitation.

“What? Haven’t got panties on?” She smirked, and you cowered your head in a hot flush.

“No, I don’t…” You looked back up at her through the glass and smiled innocently.

She bit her lip, seemingly in thought, while also trailing her eyes over your mostly naked body. She tittered to herself, looking down at her lap, before looking up again.

“I’d say, if you had panties on, we could continue this little voyeur session. But… I think I’d rather see that pretty pussy of yours up close and personal. Not through a window.” You couldn’t help but shy again, her dirty compliment causing another pang of arousal to hit you.

“Are you saying I should come over, Prentiss?” You couldn’t help the smirk that crawled onto your face at the suggestion.

“Hmm… may-be.” She tilted her head and smiled, crossing her legs.

“Give me five minutes.” You smiled at her and picked up the phone, hanging it up. You shot her a wave as you got up from the couch, throwing your shirt back on before walking away from the window.

Making your way into the bathroom, you placed your palms on the countertop and sighed, leaning against it. Looking up at the mirror, you took note of your flushed cheeks, red and glazed.

You gave yourself a quick once-over, making sure to put on a little extra deodorant and spritzing some of your favorite perfume before splashing some cold water on your face.

Walking into your bedroom, you grab a pair of discarded sweatpants and pull them on over your shorts before step into a pair of slippers, grabbing your keys and phone before rushing out the front door.

You practically sprinted through the halls, nearly losing a shoe in the process. Your heart was racing with exertion and anticipation as you searched for her apartment number.

When you finally reach her door, you stand there for a moment. Hunched over with your hands on your knees, taking a deep breath. You raised a shaky hand to knock on the door but before you could, it was flung open and Emily’s figure stood in front of you.

“Hey, stranger.” She smirked, her scent suddenly overwhelming your senses once again. It reminded you of a gust of cold night air mixed with cigarettes and a rich cologne. Which would prove quite accurate once she stepped aside, inviting you in, noticing the open window and an ashtray still smoking on the windowsill.

“Hey…” You gave her a shy bow of your head, and stepped forward through the door, brushing against her warm, silk-covered chest as you did so.

You smiled proudly to yourself, shocked that you’ve managed to get this far with such a magnificent woman.

Placing your keys and phone on the table next to the door, you took a deep breath to ground yourself.

Hearing the door click shut, you spun around to face her. Immediately, you’re met with her strong hands gripping your hips and pulling you in, then pushing you over to and up against the nearest wall.

Her face was mere inches away from yours, close enough for you to feel her breath ghosting at your lips. She smirked again, her blackened irises twinkling in the low light, thumbs pressing into your hip bones causing you to let out a hmph.

“You know, Y/n… I have been dying to get my hands on you ever since I caught you watching me...” She gave you a once over, leaning in close to your ear and nipping at the lobe. “hands in your pants.. playing with yourself like I was some porno…” She moaned against your neck and you shivered, the closeness becoming all too much.

“Fuck Emily…” Your knees almost gave out when you felt her place a few sloppy kisses on the sensitive underside of your jaw.

Her mouth was so warm and wet, and when she began dragging her tongue from your collarbone up to your ear, the sounds you almost let out could’ve been called in as a noise complaint. Instead, you choked out a soft gasp, bringing your hands up to grasp at her shoulders.

Emily rasped out a chuckle, the vibrations hitting you like a truck. Every sense and nerve ending in your body kicked into top-gear.

“So responsive and I haven’t even touched you yet.” She pulled back and whispered against your lips.

“Well you should…please.” Your voice was barely audible, your eyes heavy as they looked up at her through your lashes.

Emily groaned and pressed herself against you, crashing your lips together. You wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her impossibly closer. Her fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, running over your stomach before squeezing your waist, urging your hips to roll into hers. You couldn’t help but to moan at the sensation.

And Emily, being the opportunist she is, used that moment to slip her tongue into your open mouth. You graciously welcomed the wet muscle, closing your lips around it and sucking gently. She hummed, pulling back to continue with her assault of open mouth kisses on your neck.

You let your head roll back, allowing her more access as her teeth scraped against the skin before biting down and sucking a bruise into it.

Your hand ran up the back of her neck, tangling your fingers in her nape and tugging at it gently in an attempt to bring her mouth back to yours.

But Emily had other plans.

“Let's go to the bedroom before I have to carry you there myself.” She smiled and placed a chaste kiss on your lips, pulling your arms from behind her and taking your hand in her own.

“Yes, ma’am.” You nodded with a near comical enthusiasm. She beamed at your excitement, laughing to herself quietly before dragging you down the hall to her room.

As you passed through the halls, you took in the decor. Walls, covered in pictures of friends and coworkers. A majority of the pictures were a bit old, as she had striking black hair and a baby face, as well as bangs in some. And very very pretty, you might add. The aesthetic of the apartment was overall romantically dark, with lots of black, red, and other warm-toned colors. She had a plethora of lamps and candles lit, adding a sensual ambiance.

“It’s so pretty in here, smells nice… you smell so nice.” You giggled, practically fawning over the woman. The arousal that had been rushing to your head putting you in some sort of giggly daze.

“You’re sweet, thank you… you smell very nice too.” She craned her neck to smile at you, causing another giggle to erupt from your chest as you blushed.

You admired her form in front of you. The sway of her hips underneath the silk, her toned legs, the beautiful, multi-tone silver hair that cascaded so gracefully past her shoulders. You looked down at the hand that was intertwined with yours. Her fingers, long and slightly aged with a few prominent veins twisting from her knuckles to her wrist, as well as one thicker vein that travelled up the back of her forearm.

“I like your hands.” You blurted out, blushing, a bit embarrassed after the fact.

“You’re about to love my hands, baby.” She quipped, and you flushed even harder. Emily chuckled again, pushing the bedroom door open. You followed in behind the woman eagerly, excitement rising like bile in your throat.

Her bedroom was a bit warmer than the rest of the apartment, and it smelt the most like her out of all the other rooms you’d been in. Her large mattress was dressed simply, with two pairs of pillows and a thick, bohemian patterned comforter. The room was kept neat, not a single stray item of clothing to be seen. There was also a faint humming of what sounded like jazz playing from an older-looking sound system in the corner.

Before you can take in your surroundings further, Emily is pressing you down onto the mattress and her body, climbing over you. Your hands immediately attach to her thighs, climbing up towards the apex as she straddles your hips. She runs a hand through her hair, flipping it to the side before leaning down to connect your lips with a smile.

It’s slow and sloppy and she groans against your mouth when you tightly squeeze the muscle of her upper thigh. Her hands slide under your shirt, nails gently scratching at your stomach before sliding upward, coming to a stop over your breasts and squeezing. You gasp, brows furrowing at the contact. Savoring the way her fingers circle over your nipples before pinching them between her index and middle fingers.

You find Emily’s mouth again, pressing your tongue past her lips to roll against hers. Her mouth tasted like bitter cigarettes and a hint of mouthwash, assuming she took a swig before you arrived. You wanted to taste her forever.

Gaining a bit of confidence, you begin moving your hands up a bit further, brushing your thumbs over her hips, then towards her pelvis. The muscles in her abdomen flutter beneath your fingertips at the touch. She puffs out a breath and presses further into you.

Emily pulls her hands out from beneath your shirt, pushing it up and exposing your bare chest, the rush of cold air causing the buds to stiffen. She runs her palms over them, you arch into her touch.

Her kisses start to leave your mouth, trailing over your cheeks, down the sides of your neck, over your collarbones, and finally to your chest. She smiles against your skin before taking your nipple between her teeth and tugging it gently.

Moaning aloud at the sharpness of her teeth, your head falls back against the duvet. Pulling a hand away from her thighs, you bury it at the base of her head, holding her tight against you.

“Sh-it, Emily…” you pant, raising up to look down at her, but quickly falling back when her eyes lock with yours as she begins trailing lower on your torso.

You quickly pull your shirt the rest of the way off and Emily giggles against the skin of your belly, kissing, biting, marking. She lets her hair fall like a curtain around her face, the strands tickling you as she descends.

With a final nip directly below your belly button, she peels herself out from your vice-like grip, sliding off your lap and kneeling on the mattress.

You watch as she begins untying her robe, letting it fall off her shoulders and tossing it across the room. You sit up on your elbows, taking in the curves of her body up close.

“May I?” You nod towards her chest.

“I suppose…” she smirks, placing her hands on the bed behind her and leaning back, pushing her already ample chest out. You couldn’t help but stare in awe.

Rolling onto your stomach then matching her position on your knees, you reach out, curling your fingers around the edge of her top and pulling the lace down, letting her breasts spill out.

You hum to yourself, palming the heavy tissue before diving in to place wet kisses over the soft skin. You looked up to watch her face as it screwed into a lust-blown expression while watching your mouth envelope her.

Her skin tasted bittersweet against your tongue, and it was utterly addicting. You wrap your arms around her torso, holding her tight and burying your face between the valley of her breasts, pecking and sucking the pale skin. You could feel Emily’s breath fanning over your face, cooling the flush on your cheeks.

She let out a soft hum, her head lulling to the side as you sucked a nipple into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the bud before biting into it gently. She lets out a yelp of surprise, hand grasping at the back of your head.

You smiled against her before craning your neck up to kiss her again. She opens her mouth, inviting your tongue in with a faint disparity.

Flinging a leg over her hip and settling into her lap, you urged her back against the pillows, mouths still locked together. Your hands pressed against her chest, squeezing as she pulled you up.

“You’re a really good kisser.” You whisper against her lips between sloppy kisses, the saliva beginning to spread across your chin and philtrum. Her hands grip your ass through your sweatpants, pulling your pelvis into her.

“Mm, so are you…” her nails rake up your nude sides, before wrapping tightly around your breasts.

“Oh-” you break the kiss, gasping at the roughness of her touch.

“I love your tits…” you cut her off with an urgent kiss, taking her soft, wet, bottom lip between yours sensually. She pulls back, “so pretty-” you cut her off once again, taking her top lip between yours this time.

“Just shut up and keep touching me” your hands grip her desperately below her ears. “Please…”

Emily groans before forcefully suctioning her mouth to yours, tongues tangling against each other.

You began to roll your hips into her, grinding slowly against the softness of her thigh. She grips at your hips, lifting and pulling you down onto her harder.

You let out a pitchy moan that she immediately swallowed. Her hands slip lower, gripping your ass through the fabric of your sweatpants.

“Take your pants off.” You could feel her smile into the kiss, and you hummed against her.

“How about you take them off?” You gave her a quick peck before climbing off her lap, falling backwards on the mattress with a giggle.

She smiled at you, raising up on her knees before running her palms from your shins to your thighs, giving them a squeeze before dipping into your waistband and pulling it down.

Once the pants were completely discarded, Emily placed your legs over her shoulders, holding eye contact as she pressed chaste kisses on the inside of your calves. Baring her teeth against the flesh before biting into it.

You let out a moan at the sharpness, but the pain was quickly soothed when she ran her tongue over the mark.

She began moving further up your legs, leaving kisses along their length. Her hands then drove up the back of your thighs, pressing them up and open.

You whine and your body tenses up as her teeth dig into the sensitive skin on the back of your thighs, hands flying out to hold on to the duvet as your hips raise towards her. She chuckles at your deplorable neediness.

“God.. please.” You release your grip on the bed and move to grasp at her arms as they wrap around your legs, fingertips grazing against the waistband of your shorts.

“I am definitely not God.” Emily humphs, sucking a hickey into your inner thigh, licking over it before turning her head and doing the same on the other side.

“Certainly feels like it…” you pant, running your hand through her hair before balling it up in your fist and tugging it gently. She croons, pulling away from your thighs and crawling up your torso.

You groan at the loss of contact, but quickly quiet down when her mouth attaches to your nipple and her pelvis grinds against your center, still covered by the thin shorts.

“Oh-” your mouth falls open at the pressure, releasing a silent moan.

Emily then wraps her arms around your torso and sits back on her heels, pulling you up into her lap once again. Your thighs squeeze around her hips, and your arms loop around her neck, one hand buried in the back of her head while the other grips the skin of her shoulder.

“I want you.” You pant against her open mouth. She moans against yours, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling it softly.

The room has grown sweltering, and the faint saxophone mingling with the sound of your mixed breaths only thickens the atmosphere.

You feel her hand as it slides from its spot on your waist down past the curve of your ass. You’re practically trembling when her fingers begin to slip past the hem of your shorts.

Her eyes lock with yours when she finally makes contact with your drenched core, watching you. You shudder as her fingers glide through your slit, drawing teasing circles in the slick.

Your head falls against her shoulder with a gasp when she nudges your clit, hips immediately sputtering into a sloppy rhythm. You whimper against the skin of her neck, suckling gently to stifle the uninhibited noises escaping from your throat.

The intensity of it was almost too much. You didn’t realize just how strongly you wanted this until now.

Drenched, whining and moaning against the hot neck of your very attractive neighbor, who just so happens to be employed by The FBI (making her inherently hotter), while she plays with your pussy as you straddle her lap.

God those fingers are good. Too good.

So fucking good you can feel yourself rapidly approaching orgasm and she’s hardly even fucked you yet.

“Put your fingers inside me… want you to feel it when I cum for you-OH!” You cry out as she slips two of those delicious fingers easily inside. Rubbing oh-so-sweetly against the spongy spot just past your opening.

“So fucking wet.. so needy. How close are you, baby? Gonna cum for me?” Emily’s voice is deep but soft against your ear, and you shiver at the brush of her lips against the cartilage.

“Mhm, so close.. I need more.” She hums again, sliding her hand out from behind you and slipping it past the waistband in the front of your shorts.

Her fingers dip down and collect the wetness from your slit, dragging it up to your swollen bud, circling it with a practiced ease.

You're panting hard against her neck, practically humping her hand like a feral dog as she plays with you. You bite into her shoulder with a groan when she slips her fingers back inside you from the new angle

“Emily- oh my god. Keep going.” You chant, leaning back in her grip and bouncing slightly on her hand.

“That’s so fucking hot, keep riding my fingers, baby.” Emily's eyes are wide, watching your body move with intent. Her mouth hangs open slightly, lips swollen and glistening.

Your whines grow louder when she begins thrusting into you as your hips fall back down on her lap, her palm pressing against your clit.

The knot in your belly is growing by the second now, and you know it’ll only be a short while before you're practically seizing against her.

“M’gonna cum…” you pant, breathless and clenching a fist in her hair while the other claws at her back.

“Cum for me, baby… fuck you feel so good.” Emily practically moans, kissing the junction of your neck and shoulder as her free hand moves to pinch at your nipple.

“Fuckfuckfuck… oh, Emily-” your body tenses up, thighs quivering as the quaking force of an orgasm hits you.

You let out quick and breathy moans as your hips stutter against Emily’s stilled hand, fucking the remainder of your orgasm out little by little.

Emily’s tongue darts out to lap up the beads of sweat that have begun collecting over your collar bones. She then moves up the flushed skin of your neck, placing gentle kisses over the marks she left.

“You’re gonna have fun covering those up…” She chuckles, kissing up your jaw and over your cheek.

You whip your head around to give her a ridiculous look, something like shock, but also not surprised because you were practically begging for it.

You definitely did not mind being marked by her, in fact it gave you material to think about when you’d inevitably go home and jerk off to just thoughts of her.

“You’re ridiculous…” you lean in to kiss her, slowly sucking on her bottom lip before tilting your head and opening up for her tongue to slide in.

When she slips her fingers out from your still sensitive sex, a moan falls from your lips and into her awaiting mouth.

You pull away, looking over her perfect face, watching as places her wet digits into her mouth. Hollowing her cheeks and sucking your arousal from them.

Your mouth falls open, you could probably cum again just from watching her do that.

But when she brought the same fingers up to your mouth, smearing the wet mixture over your lips and chin before leaning in to kiss you once again, you thought you might die.

The string of saliva that hung between you and Emily was disgustingly hot. So hot in fact, that you just had to take her hand in your own and bring those beautiful fingers back up to suck them clean yourself.

“Mm, shit…” she grinned, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

You twirled your tongue slowly between her fingers, savoring the taste of her spit mixed with your own arousal. Closing your lips around the digits, you bobbed your head, taking them as deep in your mouth as you could without gagging.

Emily watched you with an impressed face, chuckling to herself with a quirked brow as you repeated the movement over a few more times.

You pulled her fingers from your mouth with a pop and kissed the tips before tilting your head down and looking up at her through your lashes.

“You were right about me loving your hands.” You sheepishly giggle, slouching against her body and wrapping your arms around her shoulders again.

“I certainly was.” She laughs, wrapping her arms around your waist and leaning back, pulling you down against the pillows with her.

You smile down at her with the new position, arms braced on each side of her head while your bottom settles over her stomach.

“And what about mine, hm? Do you think you’ll looove my hands, too?” You smiled teasingly, dipping down to kiss her. Placing a few chaste pecks before Emily deepened the kiss, flicking her tongue against your upper lip. Her hands rise up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer so that your chest pressed against hers.

“Mm, why don’t we put them to the test and find out?” She murmured against your open mouth.

“I like that idea.” You gave her a final deep, wet kiss and pulled away, trailing your lips down to her neck.

Nipping at the soft skin of her throat, you raised yourself off her hips, moving backwards and shoving her legs open with your own so you could settle between them.

“I think it’s time this stupid thing comes off.” You drone, pulling the lace teddy down her torso, leaving gentle kisses on each patch of skin revealed.

“You loved it.” Emily said frankly, raising her head to watch as you peel the fabric away from her skin.

“Mmm…I so did.” You groan, nipping at the softness of her lower belly, causing her to yelp and twitch against you. You smiled, placing a kiss over the spot.

Sitting up, you ran your palms over Emily’s smooth thighs, taking in her flushed state in front of you. Cheeks glazed, hair mused, covered in the marks of your passion. She watches you expectantly, eyes dark and fingers toying with the skin of her lip.

Your eyes drift down to her pelvis that sat in front of yours.

You couldn’t help but notice the arousal that had begun seeping through the lace over her center. With a hum and a bite of your lip, you brought your hand down to her pubic bone, resting your fingers on the covered mound while your thumb brushed over the sticky fabric.

Emily grumbled, spreading her legs further and digging her heels into your ass.

“So wet…” you raise the thumb to your mouth, sucking it in and groaning as you absorb the piquant flavor of Emily’s arousal. Making sure to look her in the eye as you do so. She hums, eyes glinting with excitement.

“I think I know what I wanna do next…” you give her a sharp smile before moving to tug the lace down her legs. Emily lets out an almost youthful giggle, shrieking as you forcefully yank the fabric from her body.

“And what might that be, y/n?” Emily questions sarcastically, sitting up on her elbows.

“You’ll see…” You kiss her knees and shins as you scoot even further down the mattress, flattening out on your belly.

You wrap an arm around her thigh, maneuvering it so Emily’s calf would rest on your shoulder. The other roams up towards her torso, giving her breast a squeeze before tweaking her nipple.

Emily groans, bringing a hand down to your hair, attempting to push your face against her.

“Patience, Chief.” you tsk, pinching her inner thigh.

“You make it so hard, saying things like that.” Emily whines, head falling back in anguish and her fingers tugging at your scalp.

You can’t help but smile up at her from between the columns of her thighs, placing an open mouth kiss on the dewy skin at the apex of her inner thigh.

Her scent is beginning to cloud your ability to think in proper terms. Heady and warm, heat is practically radiating from her sex. You place a gentle kiss on each side of her labia, she lets out a breathy moan.

Before you can get carried away with your mouth, you pull back. Admiring the beauty of her before gliding your thumb through the glistening slit, spreading her folds like a beautiful flower covered in morning dew.

“So pretty..” you whisper, placing a kiss atop the patch of trimmed hair and then another directly over her slit.

Emily moved to sit up again, reveling in the sight of you worshiping her pussy. Her hand ran through your hair, bunching it into a sloppy almost-ponytail.

“Stop teasing.” There’s a sternness in her voice that you simply cannot deny. You bring your middle and index fingers up to your mouth, dipping them inside and pulling them out. Looking up to Emily’s face, you place the moistened pads over her swollen bud. She hisses when you start moving in slow circles, pressing hard then softer with each loop.

The hand in your hair begins pulling tighter, inhaling a sharp breath as the sting becomes more painful.

“More.” Emily huffs, loosening her grip and smoothing the ruffled mess of your hair down.

“You’re gonna have to ask nicely…” your tone is condescending and give her another evil grin before placing more wet kisses on her thighs.

“I want your mouth… please” Emily grumbled, becoming increasingly impatient.

“There ya go… miss big shot, too proud to beg for me to eat her out.” You murmur that last bit before licking a broad stripe over her slit.

Her body arches into your touch, the same hand gripping at your scalp once again as she lets out a breath.

“Oh, I’ll beg. You just have to work for it…” her sentence trails off as you close your lips around her clit, sucking on it gently.

You take turns switching between licking and sucking on her pussy, studying all the little things that make her body tick. Every little tweak and touch that makes her hair stand, prickling to attention.

Emily begins letting out a steady stream of soft moans, panting as her head lulls back and raises up again.

“fingers.. please.” Her eyes are pleading when she looks down at you again.

You hum against her, pressing your middle and index finger against her opening. Dipping in slightly before pressing them in all the way. Your eyes are intent on her face as you turn your fingers over, curling up against her pubic bone.

Emily nods swiftly, closing her eyes and letting the pleasure consume her.

Your tongue continues its lazy circles over her clit as your fingers begin pumping inside of her. Curling upward each time your knuckles bottom out against her.

Emily’s breaths were ragged as she arched her back, grinding against your mouth and hand. Her chest is flushed, and the thin sheen of sweat between her breasts has begun to bead.

“Harder…” the older woman huffs.

You raise up slightly, bringing your knees under you for leverage, pulling your fingers all the way out before pounding them into her once again.

Emily wails a high pitched moan, her fist so tight against your scalp you can feel hairs being plucked from their follicles.

She looks down at you again, slack jawed. Her lips have chapped from all the panting, and her heavy, half-lidded eyes struggle to remain locked on you.

“Fuck, you’re so good…” Emily’s voice has lost its usual rasp, opting for a more high pitched and needy tone. “Kiss me.” She whimpers, curling herself closer to you while also tugging on your head.

You can feel her pussy clench around your fingers in the new position. The curve in her belly, forcing her insides to constrict.

You lick into Emily’s mouth, breathing in her chants of pleasure as you use your knee for leverage, fucking into her with stupifying force and pace.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck-” Emily’s blunt fingernails dig into the skin of your back, tearing red streaks into the flesh, her face scrunched in concentration.

You’re panting against her lips, pressing your forehead against her and putting every ounce of stamina you could muster into bringing this godess of a woman to orgasm.

“Fuck, y/n baby.. gonna cum.” Emily whines, her hands sliding back up to your head and pulling you into a passionate kiss. She whimpers into your mouth with each strong pump of your fingers, hitting that perfect spot deep inside her.

The lewd sounds of your ministrations fill the room, the wetness of her cunt, splattering over the duvet as well as your arm and leg.

“You look so pretty.. taking me so well.” You murmur, palm grinding over her clit. Emily lets out a groan and you can feel her thighs begin to tremble.

She pulls you back in, burying her face in your sweaty neck, biting into the skin and wrapping her legs around you tight as she topples over the edge.

Her moans are breathy and quiet, almost cries as she twitches with the shocks of her orgasm in your grasp. Her inner walls clamp down on your fingers and hold them in place while you work her clit gently with your thumb.

Emily’s bites against your neck turn into sloppy kisses and kitten licks as she comes back down to earth, grip loosening but unmoving from the closeness.

“I think we found our answer.” She pants out a laugh, letting her head fall back against the pillows.

“I think we did.” You chuckle in return, collapsing beside her and resting your head atop of her shoulder. Slipping out her gently, you bring your soiled fingers up to your mouth. Letting the divine taste of her orgasm sink into your tastebuds.

Emily tilts her head to watch, giving you a lazy smile before swatting your hand away and pressing her lips against yours, tasting herself.

She pulls away with a satisfied sigh, letting her limbs fall haphazardly to the bed, but keeping the arm behind your back snug around your shoulder.

She twirls your hair mindlessly as she catches her breath, you inhale the scent of her skin.

“I need a fucking cigarette.” Emily blurts out, you laugh against her collarbone.

“Could I bum one?” You tilt your head to her with a hopeful gaze.

“Only if you ask nicely.” She mocks, turning to you with a jeering expression.

“Please…” you place a few pecks on her neck. “oh please, chief Prentiss,” you kiss her hard on the cheek. “may I bum a cigarette from you?” You give her your best puppy dog eyes.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute. It’s very hard to resist.” She smiles, her dimples on full display.

You lean in, placing a gentle kiss to her bottom lip.

“Not so bad yourself, Chief.” You wink, sitting up and turning your body towards her.

“Oh, cut that out.” Emily swats at your thigh, a bashful glow creeping up her cheeks.

You move to roll out of the bed and Emily follows, picking her discarded robe from the floor and throwing it on, not bothering to tie it.

She pads over to the closet, pulling out a matching robe from the rack and tossing it at you. She buckles over in laughter when it hits you square in the face.

“You think you’re sooo funny.” You gave her a deadpan look, putting a hand on your hip after you secured the silk over your shoulders.

“Oh, I’m hilarious.” Emily grins, walking past you and waving for you to follow her out the bedroom door. And you followed just like a puppy does its mother.

Entering the living area, Emily plops herself into the chair by the cracked windows. Grabbing the open pack of cigarettes, placing one in her mouth and lighting it up.

She looks over at your form, standing awkwardly in the center of the room.

She pats her lap, signaling for you to take a seat on her knee. You immediately beam, prancing over and plopping yourself down on her.

Emily chuckles to herself, grabbing another cigarette and placing it against your awaiting lips. She leans in, pressing the glowing end of hers against yours, lighting it.

That might’ve been the hottest thing you’ve ever seen and you literally just fucked this woman silly.

“Hot.” You plainly state. Emily smiles, taking a drag and blowing it up into the air.

And there you sat, comfortably curled up in the lap of your gorgeous older neighbor, after being deliciously fucked, smoking one of her cigarettes.

Quite possibly the greatest night of your life.

…

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #paget brewster #ao3 #wlw smut #criminal minds #grey haired emily prentiss #lesbian #reader insert #wlw

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animefeminist · 1 year ago

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Transmasculinity and queer sexuality in the works of Ikeda Riyoko

Content Warning: Discussion of transphobia and suicide

Spoilers for Dear Brother, The Rose of Versailles, and Claudine

Ikeda Riyoko—perhaps the most famous member of the “year 24 group” that played a large part in creating the foundations of the shoujo manga genre—is often credited with laying the groundwork for depictions of queer characters in shoujo, and in particular with creating the archetype of the gender-bending heartthrob heroine, or “girl prince.” Building on earlier representations of butch or transmasculine characters in early shoujo manga such as Princess Knight, and the Takarazuka theater tradition of the otokoyaku male role actor, Ikeda’s enormously popular gender non-conforming heroes—Lady Oscar from The Rose of Versailles, Rei from Dear Brother, Julius from the Window of Orpheus, and the titular character of Claudine—helped to establish that there was a major mainstream audience excited to cheer for a hotheaded, androgynous tomboy with a heart of gold. Lady Oscar in particular has fingerprints all over the history of anime and manga, from a gender-bending cameo in Pokémon to serving as the inspiration for iconic characters like Tenjou Utena.

When I first read The Rose of Versailles last year, I expected its depictions of queer and transmasculine characters to be somewhat limited—after all, the comic was written for mainstream audiences and a mainstream publisher in the 1970s. But across Ikeda’s work, I was deeply surprised with the level of care and nuance with which Ikeda approaches transmasculine love stories. While there is obviously a lot about Ikeda’s portrayal of transmasculine characters that feels dated to modern audiences (for example, her comics often do fall back on “biological” ideas of women’s weakness and emotionality, and sometimes psychologize her character’s genders in uncomfortable ways), I was surprised by how much of these comics still hit for me today. What makes them work for me is both the extreme pathos with which Ikeda writes transmasculine character’s experiences of rejection—and, at rare moments, gender euphoria —but also the fact that her trans characters are not simply given a one-size fits all born-in-the-wrong-body narrative. Instead, they are each portrayed as unique individuals with varied personal relationships to their gender, their sexuality, and the historical context of the society they live in.

Read it at Anime Feminist!

#riyoko ikeda #ryoko ikeda #rose of versailles #berubara #versailles no bara #lady oscar #dear brother #oniisama e #claudine #classic shoujo #shoujo #articles #asuka rei

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sapphicnaturalrights · 5 months ago

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hiya folks! due to incredible popular demand, sapphicnatural week is back! it's a time to celebrate the diversity of the sapphic experience on the show through creating every kind of art you can think of, from art to fics to gifs to amvs to poetry...

the event will run from 26th august - 1st september, and everyone is welcome to participate! this year, @mrcowboydeanwinchester and @roublardise are hosting together <3

💗 prompts

we've whipped up a few prompts for each day to help generate ideas, but feel free to mix and match them as they inspire you, or completely ignore them:

day 1: heaven & hell/bury your gays

day 2: pink/chappell roan

day 3: came back wrong/monster

day 4: butch & femme/disabled sapphics

day 5: lavender/one episode wonder

day 6: new & niche/gaslight gatekeep girlboss

day 7: free space

we've got more info and context for each prompt here if you have any questions!

💗 some guidelines to help keep things running smoothly:

nsfw content is welcomed but we ask that minors do not create or interact with this content, and that all nsfw posts are tagged accordingly

we recommend using content warnings where applicable so everyone can stay safe

we won't rb content of man characters being portrayed as sapphic

we won't rb bi/pan headcanons of charlie and claire (more info on this here)

no incest

please be considerate of everything you post, and we won't be reblogging anything we deem racist, transphobic, ableist etc.

make sure you tag your post with #sapphicnaturalrights or @ us so we can see your gorgeous posts!! we'll be reblogging all of them on here throughout the week <3

and that's it! our asks are open if you have any further questions, and our faq is here. we can't wait to flood the dash with sapphicnatural content for another week, and see all the wonderful things everyone comes up with! catch you on the 26th!!

#let's go sapphics let's go !! SAPPHICNATURAL WEEK ROUND 2!!!#spn event #sapphicnatural #spnfanevent #sapphicnaturalrights

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etotruski · 23 days ago

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König’s Obsession

(Part 1) Part 2 (Part 3, Part 4)

Writers note: Thank you to everyone who read the first part of this series. It’s my first ever written fan fic. Feel free to comment your ideas on what I could do in the following part. Reuploads are highly appreciated. Thank you:

Warnings: The following parts may contain explicit content for adults.

Word count: 1,828

It’s been only two weeks and people at KorTac are giving you already the damn side eyes and disgusted looks. As if that wasn’t enough you thought your fucking Colonel might’ve obsessed with you because, eyes don’t lie.

It’s currently 6 in the morning. You should be ready for training at 8. You went into the canteen and were confused on why people looked at you as if you were the crustiest and ugliest rat known to human history.

Soon Ashley and a group of men surrounding her walked towards you when you were about to enter the canteen. That’s when you noticed that Ashley was wearing these kind of things you wear when your arms is broken or something, so it gets support.

At this moment you were just more confused than in your final maths exam. She then pointed at you and said in a whiny, pity and over exaggerated tone.

“Guys that’s that hoe who broke my arm and fractured my ribs just because I accidentally made her trip.”

You couldn’t believe your ears by what you were hearing. She is completely catfishing and lying harder than Donald Trump did. You just stared at her, your anger already bubbling to a point you wanted to jump at her and actually break her arm and fracture her ribs. So instead of doing that you decided to handle it with words, because you didn’t wanna get ended up killed by your own Colonel.

“If your rips were fractured you wouldn’t be able to stand like that, you’d sit in a damn wheelchair-.”

Before you could even continue, your words were cut off by one of these 5 men following her around.

“Want me to make you feel pain too?”

Another one said.

“How could you do something like that to an innocent woman?”

And then another one said.

“Yeah she’s right. She’s way smarter than you who couldn’t even finish school.”

At this point you were at your breaking point and your anger was like a bubble that could pop any second. The only smart thing you could do was snap back because you had enough.

“Try to make me feel pain. I’ll see you on the ground douche bag. And you saying she is an innocent woman? Innocent my ass, she made me trip on purpose because I didn’t let her skip before me in line. And you saying I was dumb and didn’t finish school, yeah? I have a bachelor you ugly rat, I was in the fucking Navi. So shut the fuck up.”

You said before turning around and leaving. One shouted back.

“Cat killer!”

At this point you understood why people gave you dirty looks. She set rumors off into the world probably as revenge, because of having to clean women and men toilets.

‘Wow just wow’, you thought to yourself. ‘This had to happen at the start of my new career here. I thought I would have it better here. If this continues I will go back to the Navi and quit. But what the hell can I do against these rumors? I’m not even fucking hungry anymore. That butch Ashley.’

You just went back to your room and thought and thought and thought. ‘Always everything happens to me. Why does it have to be me after what happened to me in my past? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why.’

You couldn’t help but overthink and almost forgot about training. You practically ran when you saw the time: 7:58. You can’t afford to be late. You don’t want to be punished. Today you had to train sniping.

You made it in time after running none stop to where König was. He looked at you surprised for looking a bit disheveled, before putting back his stoic persona.

When the training began you first started it warm up and then you had to fight a little, which was unfair due to his size. When throwing you on the ground, his hands lingered on your wrists pinned to the side a tad bit too long, maybe you just imagined it. But when you started to train sniping he was right behind you and a little too close, which was crazy because it’s been only a damn week. So you didn’t think that this meant something. But his breath practically mingled on your neck trough the mask. This went on the whole training. The way too closeness than necessary and the breath on your neck which distracted you and made your shots a bit more inaccurate than usual.

Finally 8 hours of training were over, but when you thought you can go König stopped you, but not by his words, but by putting his hand on your shoulder while standing behind you. He said in his menacing voice.

“We need to talk. In my office. Now.”

So that’s how you found yourself in his office pinned by his eyes across from you.

“These rumors I heard about you, they’re ridiculous and I know they’re not true. Would you mind telling me who set them into the world?”

You shook your head, because snitching is not the right way.

“It’s ok. I already know who it is. You know that I can do something about it, but I want something in exchange.”

‘There is goes again. He probably wants to use me and my body as all the other men wanted.’ That’s whats you thought but then you were surprised.

“I want you to help me look after my sisters child. She and her husband are working hard and they even are often away in the weekend. I need help with that. I know nothing about kids.

You couldn’t believe your ears. He invited you to help him in exchange? Help looking after his sisters baby? So if that’s all he wanted you still were a bit frozen in mind. You couldn’t decline the offer because you didn’t want the rumors reach the higher up’s and make you potentially lose your job at KorTac. So the only logic thing you said after staring at him and he at you for minutes was:

“Ok. I can do that.”

“Give me your number so I can call you when to come. Not your number for KorTac but your real number.”

“My number is 7341********”

You said it without hesitating, because if that’s all it took to make him make the rumors somehow die down, then that’s a clear deal. But you couldn’t grasp the way your stomach told you, that that’s not the only reason he invited you to his actual home to help or ask for your real number. There was other meanings behind it. There must be, because your gut feeling was always right.

But what was it?

**To be continued**

#könig call of duty #konig x reader smut #könig smut #könig x reader #könig cod #könig #könig mw2 #cod #call of duty #konig x you #konig cod #konig smut #cod konig #story #smut #part 2

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floatingcatacombs · 17 days ago

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The Normal Author’s Girlfriend’s List Of Bad Yuri Anime

12 Days of Aniblogging 2024, Day 11

So you’ve seen some good yuri anime: Revolutionary Girl Utena (and the movie, if you want), Bloom Into You, Puella Magi Madoka Magica (plus, of course, Rebellion, which is essential), Bocchi: The Rock!, Girls Last Tour. You know HaruMichi and Farcille and poor sweet Tomoyo Daidouji and Quanxi’s whole deal. You’ve been queerbaited by Kyoani, or maybe you got lucky and watched Dragon Maid which was actually gay; you no longer get weirded out by incest; you wanted more Utena and got The Witch from Mercury S1 (good) or Revue Starlight (bad); maybe you’ve even gone back to Oniisama e and discovered Ryoko Ikeda’s incredible butch-for-butch technologies.

You’ve seen some good yuri and that’s been great. It’s just… there isn’t that much of it. Well, you could start reading manga, or books, or talking to actual women, but you want more yuri anime specifically.

To you, dear reader, I offer up this solution:

Bad Yuri.

Floating Catacombs 2025 Presents:

A Normal Author’s Girlfriend Production

The Normal Author’s Girlfriend’s List Of Bad Yuri Anime

Before we get started, let’s define our terms. First: Bad Yuri must not be in good taste. Second, let us consider some ‘ungood’ yuri, that we might understand what we aren’t looking for:

Case 1: Liz and the Blue Bird.

Boring and forgettable. Bad Yuri must be watchable.

Case 2: Shoujo Kageki Revue Starlight.

Yeah the butchfemme was good but I spent this entire show waiting for KuroMaya and they only got half an episode. I don’t fucking care about ‘childhood friends’. Bad Yuri must be enjoyable.

Case 3: Hibike Euphonium

It has to be gay. Come on. This is like the most basic requirement.

Case 4: MagiRevo, Undead Murder Farce

Being gay is not enough. You have to have actual characters.

In sum: Bad Yuri must be in bad taste; it must be watchable on a minute-to-minute basis; it must not leave the watcher with a bad taste in her mouth; it must actually be gay; and it must have some semblance of characterization. In practice it is basically always violent and horny. We’re talking like Kill La Kill levels, although if you ever want to watch that you should just go see Promare instead. Also, I reserve the right to break any and all of these rules whenever I feel like it. Without further ado:

Cross Ange

Content Warnings: Blood, Violence, Death, Sexual Assault, Ryona, Incest, Bad Taste, Needlessly Edgy, It’s Just Porn At This Point, Incredibly Stupid Plot Twists, Pretty Much Every Fetish

Princess Ange’s traitorous older brother exiles her to an island full of lesbians, where she must pilot a mech to fight dragons in incredibly revealing clothing.

This is Code Geass if it was about a girl and also worse (sorry Roze of the Recapture). This show starts with a baby being arrested. They put the baby in a special little baby jail cage in the back of a police car. The first episode ends with lesbian rape under the justification of a strip search. The weak girls on Pussy Fight Island pull knives on each other at the slightest provocation; the stronger girls pull guns; the strongest girls just use their hands.

It’s got all the subtlety of villainess manga. It’s got girls pissing themselves. It’s got a girl named Riza, short for Lizardia, because she is secretly a DRAGON. Forget ‘Lesbian soldier hopelessly in love with her commander’ – it’s got that too but it has I kid you not a lesbian harem where the top dies in combat so one of the four harem girlies has to turn into a top like a clownfish undergoing sequential hermaphroditism and take over. And then she dies too and the next one in line has to take over and then it happens again and then when it’s down to two one of them leaves because she can tell the current top’s heart isn’t in it and defects to Akio Ohtori’s side, because at least he’s willing to fuck her (lesbian cuckold count: 1) And everybody’s ass is out at all times.

It’s also got a surprising amount of Gundam intertextuality? The comparisons to Iron-Blooded Orphans are obvious; Kira Yamato is there, for some reason; her mecha is the Zeta Gundam but if it was the Strike Freedom with the TR-6 Woundwort’s Psyco Blade Goddess Antenna from Mobile Suit Gundam: Advance of Zeta: The Flag of Titans; the girls in Ange’s squadron each map perfectly to Shaddiq Zenelli’s Grassley girls.

But that’s not what you’re here for. You’re here for the scene where Hilda confesses that she’s in love with Ange but understands that Ange can never love her back, because Ange is already in love with Kira Yamato, and also with Salamandinay, a DRAGON princess from the True Earth who arrived through a dimensional rift to free Aura, the first DRAGON and the source of all magic, before Ange grabs her and gives her a full kiss while telling her that the world she’s fighting to create will have all kinds of relationships.

God Jill is so hot.

Shlock: Maximum

Lesbian: Yes, somehow, and bisexual as well. It is a male gaze thing but that’s going to be a constant with this microgenre. The vast majority of people who like women are men statistically and sometimes thank god they produce something like this

Watchability: High, if you have covid

Quality: Awful.

The Executioner And Her Way Of Life

Content Warnings: Death, Ryona, Incest, Bad Taste, Needlessly Edgy, Incredibly Stupid Plot Twist

Menou is a priestess in Isekai World whose job is to hunt down and kill Isekai Boys before they start causing problems with their Isekai Boy Powers. But this latest Isekai Boy Target… is a Girl With Enormous Tatas who she can’t kill because she auto-rewinds time to erase any wounds.

What really does it here for me is Menou’s relationship with her mentor, Flare, who groomed trained her from a young age to cut off all her emotions in order to make her a better executioner. I’m not immune to Empty Spaces/Combat Dolls/Signalis. What if Christianity wasn’t about raising girls as lambs to the slaughter but was instead about raising girls to use knives to kill people? A seductive premise for those with my particular flavor of religious trauma. Akari is fine, although I feel like Smith (Bravern) did Homura better.

I also like Momo, although I have a weakness for lesbian cuckolds (more on that later, possibly).

Shlock: High

Lesbian: Lesbian

Watchability: Moderate

Quality: Mid

Kakegurui

Content Warnings: Bad Taste, Needlessly Edgy, Boy Protagonist before the story thankfully gets bored of him, It’s Just Porn At This Point

Yumeko Jabami transfers into Gambling Academy, where everybody gambles and failing to pay your debts means being forced into petplay slavery. Luckily for her and unluckily for everyone else she is the world’s most perfect gambler because it turns her on.

Maybe the highest exposure show on this list? It’s got gambling, and sexual gambling, and a girl who can only orgasm if she’s actively taking place in a gamble where she could die. At one point she whacks off in a bathroom playing solo Russian Roulette. It’s got a Netflix original season 2 villain who was a girl forced to dress as a boy for years in ways that drove her sexually insane. It’s got The Tower of Doors, which is the most woman game that any woman has ever played.

My favorite bit character is probably the early villain who collects fingernails from everybody she beats because that’s her fetish, or the hopelessly-devoted Student Council Secretary who wants only to lay her face on the chair where her beloved Student Council President sits (lesbian cuckold count 3; 4 if you count Midori). She asks to gamble with her life and Yumeko says that that’s boring, and that there are things she values more – and that they’ll gamble with one life vs her relationship to the Student Council President instead.

Watch the opening for this one – it’s very clear about what it is, and if it doesn’t hook you it isn’t the show for you.

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Shlock: Very High

Lesbian: Surprisingly

Watchability: Very high

Quality: Fine

Akuma No Riddle

Content Warnings: Violence, Sexual Assault, Death, Ryona, Bad Taste, Needlessly Edgy, Fanservice, Various Fetishes

Bishonen girl assassin Tokaku Azuma has received her first assignment: attend the Black Class at Killing People Murder High School and kill sweet and innocent-seeming Haru Ichinose, who she immediately falls in love with. Unfortunately the other eleven members of the Black Class are also there to kill Haru.

And they’re all lesbian or bisexual. And they’re all freaks.

They’re constantly pulling guns and knives on each other. Like every conversation a weapon will come out – possibly two. There’s a lesbian serial killer who really likes using scissors on girls. Sexually. The Student Council President is sexually devoted to the school principal. There’s a twenty-year-old spoiled rich girl with a boy’s name because she was named after her mom, who was a gay man. Her dad was also a gay man. If you dare say anything homophobic about this she will kill you. Two of these girls locked eyes right as they transferred in and immediately dropped everything to engage in a 24/7 ageplay dynamic. The other spoiled rich girl is secretly a cyborg and in love with the multiple personality girl, who wants to kill her as well.

This is by the author of infamous shotacon BL manga Loveless, so I guess all that is to be expected.

Also… Akiko Morishima got really into making doujinshi for this one? Sure.

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Shlock: High

Lesbian: Yeah

Watchability: Pretty decent

Quality: Sure

Yuri Kuma Arashi

Content Warnings: Sexual Assault, Bad Taste, It’s Basically Just Porn At This Point, Bears

Lesbian Bear Storm.

For my money, the best Ikuhara post-Utena work is Sarazanmai, but Yurikuma Arashi absolutely earns its spot on this list. The pieces of a story about how lesbian desire is used to titillate a male audience but never fulfilled, how desire is regulated and rendered hideous, and how girls enforce heteropatriarchy by manufacturing consensus completely independent of men are in there somewhere under the moaning naked girls licking honey off precisely-positioned lilies. I think? It’s well-directed, at least.

Shlock: Ikuni

Lesbian: Ikunirappa

Watchability: Ikunichauda

Quality: Ikunigomamonaka

(the first half of) Birdie Wing: Girls Golf Story

Content Warnings: Violence, Bad Taste, Incest but not really, Golf, The Threat of Having To Resort To Survival Sex Work Underlying This Stupid Golf Show

Birdie Wing is the story of a girl who hates golf and a girl who loves golf. Season two fails to make par because it loves golf too much; season one, with the baffling metaverse vr episode, the underground mafia roguelike golf-to-the-death course, the woman who golfs so hard her robotic arm explodes, and the inexplicable Bandai property references, is the way to go.

I hate golf in the way only an eldest daughter forced into golf lessons hates golf. When Birdie Wing hates golf – when Eve swaggers onto the course in her stupid outfits, refusing to adhere to any etiquette, uses only three clubs and slaps a ball directly into the flag to drop it straight down? I love that. When she lifts her driver and points it and says she’ll kill somebody with it? I love that.

Also like when Aoi says she’ll get her attention with this and pulls her extra long driver out and holds it like a strap. And then her beleaguered caddie talks about how Aoi pierces everyone through with an innocent smile. That was good.

The thing that stuck with me the most wasn’t actually any of the golf shenanigans – it was the way that Eve effectively shoots Aoi down when they discover that they shared a father and were therefore half-sisters. Well, it’s yuri – incest is just something you get used to. Except then it gets revealed that that was a fakeout, because Aoi’s dad was actually her dad’s best friend and her parents were in a throuple that the dad who raised her left behind to secretly raise Eve. Also her dad is Amuro Reiya and also Char Aznable is in this one? And the HG Turn A Gundam? Don’t forget to increment the Lesbian Cuckold clock up to five – Aoi herself and her poor caddy, who didn’t deserve a mysterious blonde swooping in like that.

Oh god I didn’t even mention Vipere, the slutty snake-themed bisexual underground mafia golfer (you know, for the underground golf mafia) who uses pheromones to control her opponents, gets outgolfed, and then shonen-rival style sticks around to help out whenever somebody needs a car (as the girls are too young to drive).

Shlock: Absolutely

Lesbian: Somehow

Watchability: High

Quality: Better than it had any right to be

Maria Holic

Content Warnings: Transphobia, Bad Taste, Fanservice

Kanako Miyamae is a hopeless hapless lesbian excited to attend Lily Yuri Girls Only Academy. She falls in love with a beautiful blonde girl, the queen of the school – and discovers her ideal gf is actually a boy crossdressing to attend the academy who wants nothing more than to torment her sexually.

Maria Holic works like this: Mariya wants something from Kanako, and wears a sexual little outfit/exposes his feet/blows her a kiss/strips his maid’s top off to control her through her sexuality or just because he feels like it and she falls over of anime nosebleed disorder before she remembers “oh right Mariya is a boy” and starts eating her own organs Pearl Steven Universe style. Occasionally a girl who calls herself god will say something uninteresting. Kanako has a little pervert fantasy about one of her classmates. The cast has a reference-heavy Studio Shaft Conversation. Kanako can’t get Mariya out of her head. God I had to retype every ‘him’ up there from a ‘her’ because there is no way that little bitch is anything but a girl – it just doesn’t stick in my head. They don’t make boys like that. Torturing a girl like that is a female trait.

If you don’t want to watch a lesbian get relentlessly edged by a brat this show may not be for you. In all honesty even with Studio Shaft direction I found this almost completely unwatchable but it does earn its slot here. If you want a good Studio Shaft yuri show? Go watch Madoka Magica or Hidasketch.

It does have an excellent opening though.

Shlock: High

Lesbian: Well it has at least one

Watchability: No

Quality: No

Re: Cutie Honey

Content Warnings: It’s Basically Just Porn At This Point. but god. Natsuko Aki

“Honey Flash!” yeah she sure does huh

Transforming android Honey Kisaragi fights against evil organization Panther Claw, with the reluctant help of her annoyed cop eventual bestie Na-chan. This is good, actually. Go watch it.

Seriously. The animation is so fun and vibrant! They do the super-cost-saving stills being moved thing in a very high-energy way that comes across as a reference to the original manga format and then every so often they’ll pull out absolutely incredible action sequences.

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Look at this!!! Her triangular stompy steps! The super low line count on her as she slowly advances with the gun flying toward her hand! Her Go Nagai snarl!!!!! It’s a real treat for the eyes even without the naked women. There’s only so much “saving your best friend by the power of being naked and kissing” you can do before it stops being bait and starts just being They Are In Love.

Shlock: Absolutely

Lesbian: NATSUKO AKI

Watchability: High

Quality: Yeah

Akiba Maid War

Content Warnings: Genre-Typical, No Spoilers Don’t Worry About it

Go watch this right now.

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Shlock: Less than you’d think

Lesbian: Yes

Watchability: Extreme

Quality: Genuine

A Very Specific Set Of Monogatari Arcs

Content Warnings: yeah that guy is sexually harassing that 11 year old and also that tiny little vampire and also both of his little sisters.

Show beloved by pretentious internet perverts.

Alright. You are going to watch Episodes 1-8 of Bakemonogatari Season 1, (skipping 3-5 depending on your tolerance for watching small girls getting sexually harassed) and then you are going to watch the five episodes of standalone arc Hanamonogatari, halfway through Season 2. If you really like Hanekawa, who is bisexual, watch 11-15, Neko Black and Neko White. If you really like animation, watch Kizu. Do not be tricked into thinking more of this show will be gay because Hanekawa and Senjougahara had sex in a shower once. If your goggles are really on tight, enjoy Nadeko Draw but you’ll have to sit through the previous Nadeko and Yotsugi arcs to get there and I can’t in good conscience recommend you do that.

Shlock: Less than you'd think

Lesbian: One

Watchability: SHAFT

Quality: Yes

#12 days of anime #yuri #guest post

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cowboywithacunt · 7 months ago

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CONTENT WARNING ;

This blog is an 18+ only kink/nsfw blog. I'm going to be posting explicit text and images. Please be aware that some of my kinks may be triggering to others! A full list of my kinks and limits are under the cut.

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RULES BYF ;

🐄 DNI: Men DNI blogs, detrans/misgendering/trans fetishization blogs run by cis people, cishet men, weight loss/thinspo blogs, feederism blogs, MAPs, minors and ageless blogs

🐎 My asks and dms are open to anyone! Please respect my boundaries, and don't send me stuff that involves kinks I list as a limit. Also be aware that I might not always respond! Sometimes I just ain't got the energy, don't know what to say, am offline, or just aren't interested at the moment. I'm fine with sexting, pics, and roleplaying. Do not message me several more times if I don't respond to your first message.

🐄 I block liberally! It's nothing personal, just how I curate my experience. Please don't circumvent blocks for any reason.

🐎 Feel free to claim an emoji, but I will remove you from the claimed emojis list if you don't send anything for a long while. It's nothing personal, just a way of keeping organized! If you start sending asks again I'll put you right back on.

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

INFO ABOUT ME ;

🐎 I'm Harvey! 22, transgender (FtM), he/him, bisexual, country boy who's learned to embrace it as a thing people are into lol. Currently living on the west coast, originally from Georgia. I'm fat and hairy and masc, take it or leave it. 5'5". Deer boy tbh 🦌

🐄 I'm strictly masc, have been on T for about 4 years, and I got top surgery done last summer. I don't have bottom surgery, and probably never will.

🐎 I'm happy to be a dom or sub for any and all genders! I enjoy both roles equally. Same goes for topping and bottoming. I'm about as versatile as a guy can get!

🐄 Asks and dms are open to anyone who's interested!

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

KINKS, FETISHES, ETC ;

🐎 CNC; includes rape play, dubcon, somnophilia, intoxication, primal play, and kidnapping.

🐄 Fauxcest; may include some ageplay elements, such as MILFs/DILFs, cougars, etc.

🐎 Humiliation and degradation; includes exhibitionism, voyeurism, pet play, free use, force fem/masc, misgendering, and detrans.

🐄 Monster fucking; werewolves, vampires, tentacles, you get the picture. May include non-human genitalia references.

🐎 BDSM; mostly pertains to bondage, but some light impact play might also be present. Nothing beyond spanking or slapping!

🐄 Overstimulation and understimulation; too many orgasms and not enough orgasms. Edging included in this.

🐎 Breeding; including impregnation of others, not of myself.

🐄 Misc; wilderness sex, cowboys/rednecks, putting city assholes in their place, T4T, bears, butches, sex toys, fighting for dominance, light gun/knife play, medical settings, older men/women, trans supremacy, furries, leather. Open to trying new things!

🐎 I do not tag any of these on reblogs! If you genuinely cannot stomach one or more of these things, just do your mental health a favor and don't follow me. Keep yourself safe!

🐄 Please keep in mind that all fantasies I post about are in the context of consensual roleplay between adults.

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

LIMITS ;

🐎 Heavy blood, gore, death, necrophilia.

🐄 Scat, watersports, emetophilia. Very light omorashi stuff is fine.

🐄 Choking, beating.

🐎 Detrans/misgendering directed at me.

🐎 DDLG and similar kinks that focus on infantalization.

🐄 Race play; if someone wants to call me a stupid little white boy or something, that's fine, but anything even edging towards white supremacy isn't cool with me

🐎 It's okay if you're into the above things! I won't yuck somebody's yum. You can follow and interact. Just please don't send me asks or dms involving those kinks, and be aware that I may not follow back if you post a lot of one of these.

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TERMINOLOGY FOR ME I'M OKAY WITH ;

🐎 Sir, mister, bitch, faggot, whore, slut, masc terms, sweetheart, darling, buck

🐄 Dick, cock, t-dick, clit, cunt, pussy, chest, hole(s)

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TERMINOLOGY FOR ME I'M NOT OKAY WITH ;

🐎 Daddy, puppy, fem terms

🐄 Tits, boobs, vagina, front hole

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If you're not sure about something, just ask! I don't bite!

#pin

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julietslament · 3 months ago

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The Butcher and The Rabbit Ch. 1

Stone Butch!Huntress x High Femme!Reader

Summery: You lived exactly as you were supposed to. You said your prayers by night. Married the correct man and filled your time as a homemaker. Everything as you were told, yet none of it could prevent the war reaching your doorstep. Forcing you to flee your constructed reality. Straight into the past you left to rot in the woods.

Content Tags/Warnings: DEAD DOVE, Allusions to SA, Slight Gore, Captor/Captive, Eventual Smut, Dubcon, Horror Themes, Childhood Friends to Strangers to lovers

A/N: This will be a very self-indulgent Dark Fic. I will add to the tags as they come.

The sun falls like a guillotine. Its last vestiges of light illuminating your path as you slink through the wood. Pine needles fall onto your shoulders as you push branches out of your way. The red forest was dense, a horrid maw—your only salvation.

Your footfalls are tentative and unsteady. In your haste to escape you had shoved on your husband's hunting boots. The laces are still undone, and the soles twice your size. Paired with the fact you weren’t even a runner on your best day these boots were life threatening. If you were thinking clearer perhaps you would take them off. Endure the forest floor with your bare feet, but the light dust of snow had you far too worried about frostbite. As if you would survive that long.

In the distance, the boisterous sounds of soldiers echoed through the trees. Hounds on a fox trail. Barking for the thrill of the chase.

Yet you would not be barreling through the trees like a spooked deer; you had to be clever. You knew these woods better than them. You knew they were strangers, and the forest would treat them as such, but would it be kind to you?

The canopy above darkens. The last rays of the sun fade behind you. As you struggle to make out the overgrown path in front of you the sounds of men grow closer. Too close.

How? Were your tracks so easy to follow? Had the forest forsaken you? Gripping at the jagged bone hanging from your necklace, you prayed under your breath pleas that you would live. Words of worship falling do the dirt beneath your boots.

Moving along branches dig into the fabric of your sleeves. The foliage grows thicker. Holding your skirt aloft could not even save it from the grasping branches. Bark-laden fingers trying to drag you back. Pulling you away from the path. Perhaps you should listen, but how could you? The only thing your mind could focus on were all the things that could happen to you if you were caught.

Dogs will hunt.

Until the rabbit hangs limp from its jaws.

Are the trees getting closer together? Unable to stay low to the ground, the bush too thick, you were forced onto your feet. Looking around it was dark. Too dark, you could barely make out your hands in front of you. Your chest rises and falls as you try to get your bearings. Your body twisting this way and that, not even the moon could pierce the branches above you. Was the moon even out tonight? Were there ever stars in the sky?

An inexplicable terror fills your bones. The darkness is suffocating. Standing still as thoughts begin to swirl around in your head. In your head? Or were the trees whispering to you?

‘Where are you going?’

‘Are they close?’

‘They have to be.’

‘you can hear them.’

‘I can hear them.’

‘You can hear them’

‘I can hear them right behind me.’

A hot huff of air blows a strand of hair into your face. Your body goes rigid, sweat beading down the back of your neck. As you listen. The sound of air huffing. In then out. Breathing? No. It was smelling you, inhaling your scent. An animal?

Out of the corner of your vision, you see a light, a lantern dancing around the trees. Without a thought you dart towards it, possessed by your fear. You barrel towards the beacon too afraid of the beast behind you to think of the dangers in front of you.

You can’t hear anything over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears but you know you're being chased. You can feel it. The aura of a predator. Reaching its claws towards your back. The lantern gets closer. Hope fills your chest. You can make it! You're gonna make it.

As you reach the ring of light, its glow warming your face, a gunshot rings out. Sliding to the floor you duck. Then it’s only a second before you discover your mistake. In front of you, with a lantern in his hand, stands a man dressed in uniform. His pistol raised right where you had been standing. It seems the rabbit has run straight into the jaws of the hound. You don’t stay a second longer as he yells over his shoulder, no doubt alerting his comrades that the hunt has ended.

Pushing yourself up to your feet you stumble forward. Once again sprinting into the unknown. Relying only on the adrenaline pumping through your muscles you barrel through branches. This time you can hear the footsteps rushing behind you. The light of their lantern is close enough to see in front of you.

Another shot and the bark of a tree explodes next to your head. Forcing you to pivot. A hard left that sends you straight into a thicket, thorns dig into your skin. Ripping at your clothes but you can’t stop. Tearing yourself through the clawing branches, the sounds of fabric ripping mix with the laughter of your pursuers. Finally, you feel your hand hit bare dirt. Digging your nails into the earth you clamber forward.

There’s no path ahead anymore but that doesn’t matter.

‘Need to get away.’

‘Need to run.’

Fear pushes you further. Your limbs grow numb, your breathing impossible to control but weakly you persist. Until you feel the trees open up. This is it. The forest is giving you a way forward.

One step, and you're straight back into the ground. Head slamming flat into the dirt and before you can even think a scream tears through your throat. Pain flares through your ankle, burning up your leg.

Twisting around you try to make sense of the sudden, searing pain in your ankle. However, the darkness doesn’t even allow you to see your oose and tugging your leg back only makes you cry harder. Fat tears of despair fall down your plump cheeks. Reaching down you feel for any blood but your fingers meet the cold texture of steel. Digging its jaws deep into the soft leather of the boot, puncturing your flesh.

‘This is it. You're caught.’

‘They’re going to kill you.’

‘They’re going to do worse than that.’

The voices chase you still. Furling the fear that grips your being. The steady thrum of dread that shields you from the pain.

Soft light begins to glow onto your pathetic figure. What a sight you must be. Covered in dirt. Bloodstained and unable to stop your desperate sobs. Shaking like a newborn lamb.

Light fills your vision. What should be a guiding star is now the beacon of your execution.

The hounds have finally reached you. Just as they always would. Just as they always had.

Three of them, dressed in army fatigues, burst out of the trees. Boxing you in. Only one of them held his gun aloft, pointing his pistol straight to your head. He stood in the center, the other two had weapons of their own. One a rifle hanging idly in his grasp. The third, holding a lantern of his own, gripped a knife in his fist. Each of them leering down at the prey in their grasp.

As your eyes darted between them they began speaking in a language foreign to you. Not speaking to you of course but with each other. Discussing something. Their body language was so casual it left your hair on end. The words didn't make sense, but they didn't need to. What else could they be talking about?? What other reason could they have to chase you so far? Your death would not be a swift one.

Leisurely the one with the knife begins sauntering towards you. Then something snaps in your brain. You scream again. Now in a fury as if that’s going to deter him. Spitting and hissing as a final act of self preservation. The man’s smile only widens. Cooing words at you as his leather-gloved hands reach towards you. Hands that would never touch you.

In a blink, you watch as a hatchet buries itself into the side of his cap. His wide eyes locked on yours still as he stumbled to the side. Gasping for words before falling to the ground. You can’t tear your gaze away. You stare as his hands still twitch. His lantern still clutched tightly in his grasp.

The soldiers behind the now corpse start yelling into the trees. Both now with guns at the ready, aimlessly pointing them into the shadows. You turn your head left. Then right, trying to get a glimpse of this new danger. Peering into the bush the lantern light just barely touches a few feet beside you.

An eerie silence descends on the red forest. Not even the sound of the wind through the trees to calm your nerves.

One of the soldiers creeps forward, shining his lantern deeper in. The light swallowed by the pitch black. He speaks in commands, you think as if ordering the shadows around him to surrender.

In front of you soldier with the rifle stands frozen, his grip on his gun too tight. You can see him trembling. He takes one step back then a great hand reaches out of the darkness. Gripping him by the hair and dragging him backwards. A scream pierces the air, the sounds of struggling. Then something that sounds of wet branches snapping.

To your left, you can hear the last soldier standing scream out, before shooting wildly into the bush. Releasing as many bullets as he can, the shots pounding through your skull until all you hear is clicking. You don’t look as the soldier desperately fumbles to reload. No, you can’t look away from the darkness in front of you. You shouldn’t.

‘Watch. Witness.’

Stalking into the light you see the face of a rabbit. A wooden mask splattered with blood affixed to the face of a hulking body. Towering over the scene. Muscles taut as they reveal themselves. The sleeves of their tattered shirt rolled up to the elbow, exposing the blood trailing up their forearm. A large wood cutting ax is held firmly in their hands, but the only thing you could focus on is its eyes. A pale blue that brings back memories of when you were a child. Of stories, your father would tell you. Of bodarks roaming the wood. Of the stryga that huntsmen

Lost in your admiration you flinch as the creature from the wood lunges forward. In two swift strides, it has him by the neck. The wood cutter's ax sunk deep into the muscle of his shoulder, as though it were only butter. He barely has time to scream before he’s thrown to the ground. The thing presses a bandaged foot down onto his chest, pinning him to the earth. A predator hovering over its prey. With his body pressed down the ax is yanked from his skin. The masked figure raises the weapon above their head and you suddenly realize it’s a woman. The ax swings down, cleaving his face in two.

You can’t bear to look anymore. Can’t bring yourself to open your eyes or even will your limbs to stop shaking. Your hand goes to your necklace. Trying to seek any form of comfort in your last moments. It goes quiet again, and you wait for the ax.

You feel something. Cold fingers brush softly against your calf. A sharp yelp escapes your throat. A knee-jerk reaction as you open your eyes and come face to face with the bloody rabbit mask. She’s crouched down next to your trembling body, you hadn’t even heard her get closer. She doesn’t acknowledge your scream, merely inspects the trap still locked onto your ankle. With her so close now you can make out the features of her face.

The mask covers all but her lips and jawline. Scars travel from beneath the bloody wood, marring her pale skin. One cuts straight through her top lip, pulling it up just enough for her canine to peak out. Your gaze drifts downwards, following the contours of her neck. More scars. All the way to where her broad shoulders are hidden beneath the ragged cotton of her shirt. Her clothes seem worn. They look like things men in the village would wear.

As you drift slowly back up to her face, pale blue eyes stare back at you, fixated on your features. Her head cocked to the side. As if she’s trying to figure something out.

A hum fills the silence. A lullaby. One that you’ve heard thousands of times as a child. She’s singing a lullaby under her breath. You're not sure how to react. Something about this fills you with a sense of peace. Some nostalgic feeling, from winter's past.

A dirt-covered hand reaches towards you. Moving the hair from your face. Gently, her fingers trace along the contours of your cheek. Mapping out your features. Delicately she trails a line down your neck, following the cord of your necklace. Towards your panting of your breast. Stopping at the small animal jaw dangling from your neck. Fingering the edges of its teeth.

She’s leaning over you now. Staring intently at the worn bone. Her steady breath fanning against your cheeks. She shifts and you feel her other hand brushes against your waist. At the sound of you gasp. As if you’ve burned her.

The lullaby cuts off, and for a moment you just stare at each other. Before her gaze darts to the ground and she seems almost… bashful, you think. Slowly your mind begins to come back to you. Thoughts racing as to what you should do. She wasn’t threatening you, in fact, she had saved you. Hope fills your chest once again.

Sparing a glance at the mutilated face of the fallen soldier behind her you hold onto that thought. Sitting up a little straighter you lean closer to her, tilting your head to meet her gaze.

“Help me, please.” Your voice is hoarse. Hardly able to speak above a whisper.

She looks at you. Startled. Like she was amazed that you could speak. She stares for a moment, long enough for you to worry about her intentions. That perhaps you were mistaken. That maybe you would meet the same fate as those men but she turns to look at the trap still clinging to your boot.

With a practiced hand, she presses down on the metal. A click and the jaws are released.

Relief floods your lungs as you're able to pull your leg back. The pain lingers but something stops it from fully reaching your brain. Perhaps the thick leather saved you from a broken bone, you hope. Leaning down you go to take off the boot. Desperate to know what lies beneath but a hand on your wrist stops you.

“Don’t.” The first word she says to you. Her voice is rough, harsh as the winter, and coarse as sandpaper. Sounding as if she’d never used it until this very moment.

Your hand stills as you stare up at her. Unable to deny the authority in her voice you can’t help but listen. Watching as she slides her hand up your arm. Goosebumps shoot up your skin. Her other arm scoops under your legs. Then before you can protest, she hauls you over her shoulder, careful of the pain in your leg.

The last thing you see is the corpses of the soldiers, fading into the red pines. Their remains swallowed by the earth as this strange woman whisks you away.

#The Huntress x Reader #dead by daylight #anna x reader #anna the huntress #dbd x reader #lesbian x reader #The Butcher and The Rabbit

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cheyisagirlkisser · 1 month ago

Note

Please please please more Abby!!! Can you write about firefighter Abby since you did bluecollar already... Like Abby saving readers cat then reader goes to see Abby to give her a special thanks make it smut but with plot

I Need a Hero: Abby Anderson HCS

Content: Firefighter Abby x fem! reader, mentions of comphet/struggles with sexual identity, mentions of reader's cat being saved from a house fire, smut, make-out session, car sex, mult. orgasms, scissoring, fingering, modern AU Abby Anderson, loving, giggly sex instead of just rough and fast we love to see it

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: Thank you for this request it was truly so refreshing to write something with plot. I hope you all enjoy this, and keep in mind that Abby's dialogue is red and reader's is pink!

✧.* Abby didn't have an easy life, but she was always a hard worker. She tried out college, got a general associates degree, but didn't enjoy the work load. She liked hands-on work and helping people, so she ended up with a EMT certificate from her local college.

✧.* Abby went on to become a firefighter and felt like she had a purpose in life with that. The look on people's faces when she was able to help them was always sent warmth throughout her heart. Though she was quite lonely, her mother having left her at a very young age and her father dead, she didn't have anyone to share her life with. She had her friends Mel, Owen, Manny, and Nora; still, there was always a part of her that longed for a comfort with someone special.

✧.* While Abby wasn't closed off from dating, she was never able to find a person who she had passion with. She went through a few relationships, but Abby could never find someone who understood who she was, that she wasn't just some attractive stereotype. Abby wasn't the type to have problems with any exes or undergo the tragic sapphic break-ups Nora warned her about, but she always felt like she wasn't understanding herself. She didn't know what she was looking for in a person. She dated various women, some more butch and others extremely feminine, some either funny or more po-faced, it was all somehow the same to her. She wasn't heartless, of course. She had fallen in love before and understood what attraction was. She just couldn't seem to find the "one true person" though, as cheesy as she knows that sounds.

✧.* Abby struggled with her sexuality and that may have had something to do with it. While she knew that she was attracted to women, she grew up denying it to herself. Seeing a beautiful girl made her heart stop, but she told herself it was simple attraction. Owen, whom she went to high school with, was her first time and that was when she was done lying to herself. She was definitely not for the men. Her first time with a woman was when she was already 20, but it was when she first felt like she had found a piece of herself. Before Jerry passed, she did come out to him, and his acceptance was branded into her head on repeat, playing over and over again every time she doubts who she is.

✧.* Abby lived in an apartment complex, not run-down and enough for her needs. Her place wasn't extremely decorated but she didn't spend much time there, so it didn't matter much. She constantly thought about more than that, though. She imagined living in the suburbs with a woman she could call her wife and be a wife, too. She dreamed of having perhaps a cat or dog with her and spending her nights watching as her wife's hips swayed softly as she hummed instead of eating cheap Chinese takeout. It was all just some dream, not something she ever considered to happen. At least, not anytime soon.

✧.* It was just another normal day for Abby when all hell broke loose. A few miles from her station, a house was on fire. The neighbor, frantic and in a panic on the phone with emergency services, informed the fire department that the woman who lived there had a cat inside of the house that the owner loved dearly. Unfortunately the woman was not home at the time the fire started, but the neighbor was certain that if she came home to a burning house, she wouldn't hesitate to risk her own life to save her kitty's. Abby's heart already squeezed at her chest at the though and she immediately signed herself up for the rescue.

✧.* When the firetruck arrived at your home, she was immediately hit by the smell of smoke flourishing into the sky. She wasted no time informing her coworkers of her next tasks and with the pull of a mask over her face, she hurriedly approached the burning structure. The front door was locked, which made sense seeing as how you lived in the suburbs and you were not home. Nevertheless, she was able to open a window and didn't hesitate to make her way through the living room. The fire was surrounding the hallway in which your heater seemed to have malfunctioned. The smoke was heavy and Abby was starting to panic. There was no cat to be seen and she was starting to lose hope, her tongue making small calling sounds in desperation that maybe, just maybe the cat would hear. She didn't want to give up, her voice heightening in volume, and right before she tried to open the bathroom door she heard a tiny "meow!" from the opposite side of the hallway. The bedroom. The fire hadn't touched it yet, thank god. Abby quickly burst through the door and found a small short-hair tuxedo cat meowing at her feet. She sighed in relief, muttering a little, soft "I've got you, kitty" before quickly scooping the baby into her arms and carrying it out of the home back out of the window.

✧.* When Abby took off her mask, small cat in her arms, she was greeted with the sight of a woman frantically crying to a few of her coworkers, the others working to put out the flames enveloping your home. There you were, heavy tears rolling down your face and the people surrounding her trying their best to assure you that your cat would be rescued. You were so beautiful even with sobs wracking over you, hair lit up in the sun and your expressions nearly bringing her to tears along with you. Abby didn't hesitate to approach you with the fur-ball cradled in her arms, clearing her throat from the slight smoke and seeing your eyes widen at the sight. "Oh my god, Minka!! My baby, is she okay?!" You shouted, your voice not carrying any aggression, though. It was clear that you were experiencing some fragments of an adrenaline rush coming home to said home burning down with your cat inside. Abby carefully handed your cat back to you, trying not to smile at her own thoughts. Minka, huh? That is the sweetest cat name she has never heard. Abby's heart once again squeezed at the sight of your tears slowing, your lips planting soft kisses all over the kitty's head. You were truly shaken, seeming to care more about the cat than the home. "I assure you that Minka is okay, miss. I found her in the bedroom and the fire hadn't traveled there yet. She may need to be brought in for any inhaled smoke, though." You nodded, holding the cat close. "Thank you...thank you so much, you really are a hero," you praised, your voice strained with emotion. Abby smiled, putting a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. "If you need anywhere to go, just let us know, okay?" A soft upturn of your lips left her cheeks slightly pink. She was supposed to be focusing on her job, goddamnit, but here she was floundering slightly over the soft lines of your smile. She wasn't supposed to be feeling this way about you, not when you just lost your home and almost lost your pet. She quickly composed herself as you replied to her, "I'll have to stay with my parents for a while, but thank you."

✧.* Even after the rescue ended, Abby couldn't get you out of her head. You were just so beautiful and sweet. She could tell even from the hour she'd spent by your side making sure the cat was okay and comforting you that you were probably one of the kindest, most caring people she could ever meet. She reprimanded herself for feeling this way about some stranger whose cat she saved. That's her job, afterall; she isn't supposed to find romance out of it. Why was it that she went home to call Nora and rant to her about the situation? It also didn't make sense that days after, you were in her dream with that same cat, your presence filling up her apartment and yours hands rising to cup her face so softly. You had the touch of an angel. When she woke, she was sweaty and breathless. She felt like she was going insane, dreaming of your touch when she hadn't even felt it yet. Jesus, Abby. Get a damn grip or you'll end up driving yourself crazy...

✧.* Two weeks later, Abby was playing cards with a few coworkers, laughing about some inside joke when her boss cleared his throat, catching her attention. In a gruff but not unfriendly voice as he always seemed to have, he told her that she was needed at his office. At first, she was terrified. What is she was being let go? She made okay money from her job, but she wasn't rich by any means. She wouldn't have enough to still afford her apartment.. Abby was now unusually nervous in a way that she didn't experience often. She always considered herself to her strong both physically and emotionally, but this was a tough situation to keep her composure in.

✧.* Abby was greeted with the sight of you sitting a chair placed against the wall, a tentative but sweet smile on your face. Her heart-rate began to speed up even more than it already was. Her boss spoke up behind her, wearing a tender smile. "She says she'd like to thank you," closing the door behind him. You took a deep breath. "I hope this isn't weird that I just..showed up at your job." Abby quickly shook her head, holding her hands out in a friendly gesture. "No, don't worry. Are you doing okay, though?" Her voice was laced with care, making your cheeks heat up. "Yeah. My parents, they're great people. I'm going to be staying with them until I'm able to afford a new place to stay." Abby smiled softly, for some reason the thought of your parents made her heart tender. "That's good to hear." The silence that followed wasn't exactly uncomfortable, and you couldn't help but get to the point. "Look.. I know it's your job and all, but you seriously saved me in a way I can't repay. I wasn't there, but Minka means everything to me." Your words almost brought tears to her eyes for some strange reason. Abby would like to find irritation in the way you made her so emotional at the flashback to your tears and sweet voice thanking her, calling her your hero, but she couldn't. "Well, I appreciate your gratitude. I don't hear that a lot," she admitted, and it was true. Abby had her friends and everyone in the community respected everyone who worked at the fire station, but she rarely heard appreciation like this. She knew that even if this was the last time she'd see you, your appreciation would stick with her. You looked genuinely shocked by that. "Well, I think you deserve so much appreciation. You put yourself at risk like that for my cat, and not everyone really cares for pets, you know?" Abby agreed with that statement, she knew it first-hand. Unfortunately when it came to rescues, pets weren't the priority. Your situation wasn't rare but it wasn't as common as others. "Well, I'm extremely glad I was able to save your cat. I can tell she's a sweet thing. Purred in my arms as I held her," she smiled as she recalled Minka's vibrations as as she was cradled in her arms. You laughed at that, your sweet smile only widening. "That means she likes you.." You trailed off, clearly meaning to say more. "Look...I feel like I owe you." Abby shook her head at that, her voice assuring. "Really, it's just my job to help in situations like that-" You cut her off, looking adamant, "Please? Just.. please, hear me out." She looked at your face, noting the look in your eyes. She slowly nodded. "I was thinking.. maybe I owe you a date?" Your voice, so sweet and friendly, rang in her ears. Date. You wanted a date with her? She didn't think much before she quickly accepted.

✧.* Abby, in her old ford pick-up truck, showed up at your parent's home with a bouquet of flowers. She didn't know what type was your favorite, so she went with white and pink roses. A little boring, but classics. It was a plus that the soft, pink petals reminded her of you.

✧.* When Abby was met with your parents at your front door, she felt like she was living out her old dreams of having a genuine high-school romance. Your folks were kind and thanked her for her rescue, even assuring her that she could come over anytime she'd like. Now, that made Abby a bit emotional. She was also emotional upon seeing the tiny black and white cat curled up on the living room couch, safe and content.

✧.* Abby and you just fit together well; the whole ride to the diner she wanted to bring you to went well. She told you riddles and made you laugh and in exchange, you offered up stories of Minka. You told her all about how she was a stray cat who would meow at your door for food and Abby's cheeks turned red thinking about you not hesitating to adopt a cat who had a hard childhood. She felt grateful that the sun was nowhere in the sky, only the moon and many stars so you couldn't see how flustered the thought made her.

✧.* Abby and you laughed away at dinner about countless memories the two of you could think of. Abby told you all about her friend-group and her own gay awakening. You only smiled and confessed that yours was a girl on the school soccer team at 13. Abby told you all about what happened with her parents, what her dreams were, even some of her fears. She didn't know why she felt the need to tell you all of this, but you only looked at her with sympathy and understanding, and you seemed to open up to her, too. For once, she felt understood.

✧.* After the two of you finished eating, you insisted that you pay since you somehow still owe her being her hero and now, apparently you owed her for the beautiful flowers, which you claimed were your favorite. Abby insisted that you needed to save your money after the incident and assured you that your time was payment enough. That made your heart jump out of your chest; how was she so intimidatingly-looking but the sweetest girl you'd ever met? You were in awe.

✧.* On the way home, you noticed an abandoned parking lot beside the highway, probably from an old gas station or restaurant and asked Abby to stop so that you could show her the constellations. She happily agreed, turning into the parking lot and putting her manual into park. She watched as you excitedly stepped out of her truck and laughed, quickly joining you to stand beside you.

✧.* Abby's face once again turned red and her palms grew sweaty when you interlocked your fingers with hers, gazing over to smile at her in the moonlight. Then, you ranted about the stars. You told her all about Orion, your favorite constellation. Abby was mesmerized by the way your found grew in pitch and how your words came out faster than usual when you got excited about something. Fuck, maybe you were already growing on her. She hoped you would like a second date after this. She'd spend all her money from her job on dates like these just to feel the intense pull you had surrounding you. She found herself hanging off of your every word, even though she was just some firefighter who knew nothing about astronomy.

✧.* When you finished your rant about the Big Dipper, she couldn't help herself. She spoke up, voice low and somewhat shy, "Hey.." You smiled and turned to face her, slightly caught off guard by her sudden words. "What's up?" She sighed. She needed to take this chance, you were like the girl of her dreams standing in front of her, ranting about something so cool. "Can I kiss you?" Butterflies hit your stomach, and you didn't hesitate to nod. Abby gently cupped your face and took her time to lean in. When her lips met yours, she swore the stars in the sky all increased in their luminosity.

✧.* Your lips were so soft and tasted like skittles, she thought it was the sweetest thing. Abby took her time to kiss you, not rushing the embrace but instead allowing herself to appreciate being able to kiss you like the two of you were the only people in the world. When she softly pulled away, breathless without even really kissing you that long, you pulled her in once more by the back of the neck and she eagerly parted her lips for you. The next kiss was more heated and passionate, leaving you pressed up against the side of her truck. Your tongue found hers and she moaned at the feeling. She didn't stop herself from taking your bottom lip into her mouth and giving it a soft suck. When you had to pull away for air this time, breathless and your face hot, Abby trailed her wet lips down your the column of your throat, her voice low and heated, "backseats?" And just like that, you were pulling at the truck's backdoor with a cheeky giggle.

✧.* The heated but passionate make-out session fogged up the windows but only turned into more. Soon, you were both naked in her backseat with your cunts making a noticeably loud squelching sound every time they met. It was the most emotional fuck of Abby's life. You couldn't stop leaving kisses all over her skin wherever you could reach, and she knew she could be guiding your hips to make the sensations even better, but all she really wanted to do was hold your hands and tell you how lucky she felt to have you like this, how beautiful you were. The truck was humid and cramped, and since it was the first time the awkward giggles and shaky hands were present, but Abby loved every single second of it. She was pretty sure her truck was moving along with them, but she couldn't care. She was only able to feel how your warm cunt ground against hers at the perfect angle to lavish sensations onto her clits, making her head spin with the need to have you as hers for as long as possible and her, yours.

✧.* The sex was desperate and made her lose her mind with the need to cum, but still slow. Tribbing itself is a lot of work but so very intimate that it can last longer if she needs it to, and she needed it to. She didn't want to stop feeling you like this. She never thought of herself as a vulgar person, but the feeling of your pussy, the way your breath hitched and you even let out soft moans of pleasure when your clit felt their actions only made her want you in the most intense ways.

✧.* The orgasm was the best one she had ever received. You were both moaning together and sweaty, waves of pleasured sharing you. She swore she felt a string connecting the both of you, not only your connected pussies but also your hearts. It wasn't like one singular snap between her legs, but an ongoing slaught of euphoria that she didn't think would ever end. Abby didn't want it to. She wished she could stay in that truck with you forever, just feeling your lips plastered over her skin and your hips meeting hers.

✧.* You didn't mind another round, and Abby happily spent the rest of the hour with her finger buried deep inside you and yours in her own cunt, gifting each other yet another beautiful orgasm. It wasn't exactly the same, your own curling of fingers onto her spongey walls at various paces and times while her own pace grew along with your moans, but it somehow caused the next peak to end up even more special as the first.

✧.* When it was over, it was 9 and Abby still had time to kill. She held you in her arms, legs tangled up together and for just a while, she forgot everything else but what just happened with you. She held you tightly to her and when you both came down from the after-math, you shared little laughs and Abby's voice came through so sweetly and somehow shy, even after all that happened. "Would you wanna do this again?" You laughed and kissed her cheek. "I dunno if I can handle another round, but I wish." She giggled, so sweetly and loving, "I meant another date, dumbass." At that, you sighed and squeezed her. "Oh, well that makes more sense. Yeah, I'd like another date."

#abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson #the last of us part 2 #abby the last of us #cheyisagirlkissermailbox #requests #dividers by v6que

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sytoran · 10 months ago

Text

home is where the heart is ★ n.r

— 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ;; 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐘𝐒 & 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒

pairing ★ sub!wife!natasha x beefy!butch!reader

chapter summary ★ natasha wakes you up with a pleasant surprise, your gremlin kids are the life and death of you, tony stark is annoying, marital sexting is pretty tough, and you're homesick for your wife's pussy.

warnings ★ (MINORS DNI) - explicit content, some pretty heavy kinks: blowjobs, marital sexting, breeding kink, daddy kink, probably more.

word count ★ 3.1k (feeding yall)

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

You slept like the dead.

Or at least you did, on most mornings, oblivious to the waking world in your sweet slumber.

Today was different, though. There was a distinct feeling of pleasantness swimming in your subconscious, one you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It urged you awake, a certain type of wet heat that insistently tugged and pulled.

It wasn’t until a jolt of arousal shot through you like a nine-millimetre shotgun that you jerked awake with a start.

“Shit!” you gasped, yanking off the blanket from your lower half, to reveal your ethereal wife perpetrating what could only be described as a wet dream.

Natasha’s head was obediently lowered in the midst of sucking your erect shaft, her viridescent gaze trained unto you with a twinkle of mischief. Wandering hands were sheathed under the front of your sweatshirt, painted nails mapping out the expanse of your tensed abdomen.

“Way to wake me up, baby,” you say breathlessly, a hand flying to the back of Natasha’s head in hopes of speeding up your ever-approaching high. You buck your hips once, effectively propelling your hips further forward, guiding your shaft into your wife’s mouth.

Natasha hums mindlessly, palming at your torso like it was second nature. Her mouth moves languidly, relaxed and slow, tongue trailing over the hefty length of your cock in a teasing manner.

Like the devil incarnate, Natasha’s hand glides a broad stroke from your abs to the base of your cock, and starts working her hand in firm strokes. “Fuck,” you groan, a hand twisting into soft locks of your wife’s hair.

The joint stimulation on the head and base of your cock have you barrelling towards a preordained high at a frighteningly fast pace, and the absolutely criminal way Natasha’s head bobs up and down is no help at all.

“Fuck, baby, m’so close,” you gasp, throwing your head back and letting your eyes slide shut. Your big hand guides Natasha’s head with a certain type of tacit power, unwritten but distinct. Natasha feels herself get wet, and in turn eagerly plunges her mouth down with a renewed vigour.

When Natasha lets out a filthy moan from the back of her throat, stifled by the sheer size of your cock in her mouth, pleasure overwhelms your every sense.

You groan, hips snapping up for the entirety of your cock to be buried in Natasha’s warm and velvet throat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Mama! Mommy!”

The undeniable sound of little feet scampering across the wooden floorboard and down the stairs, unceremoniously hauls you out of your heaven-like ascension.

Natasha pulls her lips off your cock with a satisfying ‘pop’ sound. “Time to get up, honey,” she says with the arch of her eyebrow, smoothly turning over in practised motion and leaving you hung and sprung.

“Baby,” you whine, pitifully throwing your head back. Your words fall on deaf ears and you grumble and pull up your sweatpants, just in time for the door to swing open and release the incoming wave of chaos.

“MAMA!!” Emilia shrieks, leaping onto the bed with fearsome aggression, her younger twin brother in tow.

Your five-year olds didn’t let you catch any breaks, Emilio roaring into your ear while dragging his toy pterodactyl across your face. “Rawr! Rawr! Wake up, ma!”

You leap up in a haze of bedsheets and screaming kids, all your previous indiscretions quickly faded at the sight of your bundles of joy.

Emilia squeals as you easily hoist her up with one arm, the little girl getting thrown into the air. Emilio receives much of the same treatment, getting dangled in the air by one leg.

“Mommy! Save us!” The boy cries out with a delighted grin and a hearty attempt at hitting your side. You swing them around with fake growls that incite laughter and squeals, steering clear of any sharp corners or wayward objects.

Natasha is more preoccupied with hugging your sleepy ten-year old, and cooing softly into her ear.

Marina is the oldest of your three, quiet and reserved, with brilliance sparkling behind her soft eyes. “Hi, mama,” she greets you with a small smile, and your heart melts a little.

“Hi, darling angel,” you reply with a big grin of your own. “Where’s my morning kiss?”

At the prospect of the feared morning kiss, Emilio yells and wreaks absolute havoc, the toy truck forgotten in favour of escaping your clutches.

“No mama! No kiss!” Emilia protests, the Russian determination behind her set eyes a splitting image of her mother’s. Emilio is long gone, visibly hidden under your bedside table.

You hoist Marina up onto your hip, smiling at the sweet kiss she pecks on your cheek. “It’s mommy’s turn now,” you say easily, sliding up to Natasha with a mischievous grin.

“Ew!” Your little girl giggles, hiding behind her hands as you share a chaste kiss with your wife, one that is far too short for your liking. Either way, the morning kiss routine was a success.

The attention in the crowded room is drawn by a simple clap of Natasha’s hands. She stands arms akimbo, rocking her bed hair, sleep still half-written in her eyes — but the whole look is so endearing that you can’t help but fall in love all over again.

“Okay, kids. Time to get ready for school! Who wants breakfast?”

The cheer that arises from your children is nothing short of pure jubilation. Emilio starts a chant of ‘Frosted Flakes! Frosted Flakes!’ that has them marching in line out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.

Natasha laughs, following their trail, but you drag her back expectantly.

With one arm hanging off the top of the doorframe and the other wrapped around her waist, you pull Natasha into that long sought-after kiss.

“Mhm,” you hum contentedly, inhaling her sweet scent. “I love you.”

Natasha slowly slides her hands up your arms, savouring the kiss. She presses her palms to your cheeks, adoration dancing in her eyes.

“I love you too.”

*****

The Frosted Flakes do not end up on the breakfast table, after all, because Natasha reasons that the kids had eaten it for three breakfasts in a row and their teeth would rot and fall off.

Toast and scrambled eggs, courtesy of your little handiwork in the kitchen, is the eventual outcome. Food is food to a bunch of hungry gremlins, either way, and the breakfast gets scarfed down in no time at all.

“You’re gonna go soon?” Natasha asks you in the kitchen, giggling at your teddy-bear patterned apron. You make a non-committal hum against your wife’s chest, wanting to stay in her arms for an eternity.

“Mama, we have to go to school,” Marina calls from the front porch, the door clicking open. “I need help with my shoe!” Emilio cries out, hopping into the kitchen with a singular shoe. “I got my shoes done on my own!” Emilia chimes in proudly, tugging on her backpack straps.

Natasha laughs, stroking your hair affectionately. “No rest for the wicked,” she says. “Be a responsible parent and send Marina to school, then go to work. The twins’ school bus will be here anytime.”

You exhale with a smile, pulling your wife in for a kiss that is a tad too long. Tugging off the pink apron, you’re glad you already changed into your work attire — a collared white shirt rolled up to your elbows, a grey-patterned tie, and matching slacks.

Natasha looks you up and down approvingly, then her eyes glimmer with an incited flame as she straightens your tie. You definitely don’t miss the way her hands glide smoothly across your chest to straighten out the wrinkles, and you resist the fluttering sensation that blooms under her touch.

“What a handsome young woman,” Natasha comments, tip-toeing to peck your cheek. You smile widely, preening under your wife’s attention. “Only for you,” you reply happily. “I’ll be off, then.”

“Mama, let’s go,” Marina probes, head poking into the kitchen. Her eyes soften at the sight of Natasha, proceeding to wave cutely. “Bye, mommy.”

Like little ducks, your three children follow you out of the house, with their miniature backpacks and shoes. Natasha watches adoringly from the porch, blowing kisses to Emilia when she yells one last “Bye, mommy!”.

Your Audi SQ7 peels out the driveway, engine revving. Marina is looking out the window, humming ‘American Pie’ with a little smile. As your home fades away in the rearview mirror, you think that this life was all you’d ever need.

***

“Fury, tell Tony that not sponsoring the coffee machines in my building is frankly, quite rude behaviour,” you comment, sitting next to the aloof man who’s snacking on a packet of dried fruit. Steve steals bits of the snack when Tony’s not looking, much to Fury’s chagrin.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Tony replies hotly, snatching back the piece of fruit in Steve’s hand. “You literally leaked the photo of me in a maid outfit, for the whole world to see. You know how many sleazy men have slid into my DMs since then? Pepper hasn’t let that go!”

“What, are you mad that the public now knows that Pepper’s the one that does the dicking down?” you retort. “And Steve was one of those ‘sleazy men’!”

The accused blonde looks away quickly, suddenly very preoccupied with the tiling of the floor. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve mumbles.

“That’s enough,” Fury admonishes with an unamused look. “The three of you need to get your shit together. Regardless of whether or not Stark is a bottom, I can’t have the CEOs of my powerhouse companies making a bad name. You know how that reflects on me? Stark Industries, SHIELD, L/N-Corp Worldwide Media: The Desolate Downfall of Nick Fury.”

“Is this because I modelled for the gay sex toy shop company? Because that’s just homophobic,” Steve reasons, folding his arms. “And Bucky liked the advert a lot!”

Tony scoffs, making paper aeroplanes with the papers on Fury’s desk. “We literally bring in millions upon millions for you each year. I’m sure that forgives the one time I was high during Y/N’s media conference. The Minister didn’t even notice! He’s like 82, anyways. Close to your age, Fury.”

“And I’m not sorry for calling the Netflix director a bitch on live TV,” you add in. “They’ve got no reason for cancelling all the sapphic shows left and right! My wife and I were invested in Gentleman Jack, okay?”

Fury sighs, the scene before him a spectacle he was no stranger to by now.

You, Tony and Steve were the face of the up-and-coming generation of brilliant minds and creative thinking. He supposed your overwhelming success and proved greatness softened the blow of your discrepancies in maintaining an unblemished professional image.

“Moving on,” Fury continues. “I want to talk about Project Eagle. As you should know from last year’s report……”

Just then, your phone vibrates in your pocket, with a notification from Natasha’s contact.

You, indeed, were hard.

Upon reading Natasha’s last message, you shut your phone off so quickly that Steve turns and raises an eyebrow at you. You clear your throat and shift in your seat, evidently affected.

The heat that surges through your body pays no help in your focus on Fury’s briefing. You can feel the flush creeping on from the back of your neck, spreading down your body and rushing towards the area between your legs.

Natasha, why have you forsaken me? You think helplessly, the noises in the office fading to a low buzz. When your phone vibrates again, your finger clicks on the message before your brain can catch up to you.

The image that Natasha sends you has you choking on absolutely nothing, coughing up air like a woman possessed.

Lacy red lingerie displaying thick thighs and a soft tummy should not be this breathtaking, but Natasha pulls it off anyway.

Filthy images flit into your mind uncontrollably, searing images like a broken record player. Your dick has a mind of its own, pressing hot and tight against the seam of your pants.

“L/N,” Fury announces, voice booming and hauling you out of your trance. “What seems to be the issue?”

In the background, Steve and Tony giggle like schoolgirls, knowing all too well what had occurred. You clear your throat again, shoving your phone into your pocket, hopelessly trying to erase the blessed image of your wife from your memory, just for a moment longer.

“No issues here,” you say with a forced smile, fighting demons with your rock-hard erection you’re desperately trying to cover with a report file. “I’m all dandy, sir.”

“Right,” Fury says disbelievingly, his good eye flickering downwards for a fraction of a second. Embarrassment eats you up whole.

“Let’s hope your attention span is just as ‘dandy’.”

***

“Natty,” you pant, with your wife pinned under you, hot and tight inside of her.

“I can’t believe you did that,” you grunt, punctuating each word with a firm thrust of your hips. “Made me so fucking hard at work.”

Following your incident in Fury’s office, you had exhausted every fibre of your willpower not to lock yourself in a bathroom stall and jerk off like a nymphomaniac.

After a gruelling day of work and coming back to a house of sleeping children, you had wasted no time in claiming your stake.

“I’ve been blue balled for twelve hours,” you groan into Natasha’s neck, mouthing at the flushed skin with fervour. “Spare me some sympathy, darling.”

“Oh, my poor baby,” your wife teases, tracing a feather-light hand over your tensed back muscles and clutching at the back of your neck. “You’re so eager, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” you growl, scraping your sharp teeth over her collarbone, leaving violet imprints at a respectable-enough level. You roll your hips into Natasha’s, drawing relentless waves of pleasure and a rocking motion that has her throwing her head back.

Natasha’s erratic breathing and badly-disguised moans are music to your ears, a sweet symphony you’d been missing all day. You groan as her velvet walls clench tight around you, hot and wet and all-encompassing.

“You feel amazing,” you pant, the clefted tip of your shaft bumping against her cervix with how deep you nest inside of her.

A high-pitched whine sounds from the back of Natasha’s throat, as her legs spasm in the air. “Wanna fuck you senseless, please,” you groan.

“Do it,” she challenges breathily. You lean forward, manhandling her deliciously thick thighs, pressing your wife’s knees to her head.

The arousal that builds in your lower stomach is pure white heat, fueled by the breathless cries of your wife under you.

“Fuck,” you cry out, reaching new spots you haven’t before. You surge forth, an unstoppable train, drilling your shaft into Natasha’s dripping cunt like it was your only reason for living. Because maybe it was, as you transcend earthly boundaries with her, only her.

Subconsciously, your hands fly to Natasha’s hefty tits, grabbing the shaking mounds. “Y’so pretty, babygirl,” you say, half-drunkenly, high of the white-hot pleasure that Natasha draws out of you.

She’s untouchable heaven, silky moans and raspy cries, a soft tummy with rolls that you greedily grasp in your hands.

“Daddy,” Natasha cries, crescent nails scratching down your arms, her suspended legs shaking in the air. The airy lilt of your title makes you leak. “Ugh, fuck,” you grunt, pounding her into the bedframe, sweaty and slick.

“Let me come inside, please?” you practically beg, wide eyes transfixed at the area your shaft meets her cunt. Natasha whines breathlessly, a hand moving to clasp at the sheets. “Yeah, I-I’m on the pill.”

That’s all the confirmation you need before pinning Natasha down with spread hands. You shift on the bed as you mount her, skin-to-skin with your shaft fully-lodged inside of your wife.

Natasha gives you this dizzy look, glazed-over eyes portraying complete submission.

Then you start moving again, and the world explodes in your hands.

“Oh, fuckkk,” you groan, shoving your fingers into Natasha’s mouth to stop her pleasured screams from waking up the whole house.

The speed at which you drive your hips into Natasha’s is downright sinful, smearing slick all over her rounded ass, dripping onto the bed.

You’re transfixed, as your wife’s big mounds bounce in time with your thrusts, making you drool with want. An animalistic growl leaves your throat as you push yourself in, even deeper than before, making Natasha arch above the bed with a muffled cry.

Just like that, with you buried inside Natasha, do you fall apart by the seams, an unwinding intricate tarp.

Your load gets buried deep inside Natasha’s womb, and you continue with shallow thrusts. “Mhmn,” Natasha moans, following soon after, spurts of slick coating your cock in waves of overarching pleasure.

“Babydoll,” you groan mindlessly, palming at her sides. You come so heavily that it flows out of Natasha, a dribble of thick white fluid, and your wife fingers it back in so desperately that you could get hard all over again.

You collapse unceremoniously onto the bed next to Natasha. “I want more kids,” you state. You grope your wife’s tummy like it would conjure new life, an expectant look on your face.

“Three is enough,” Natasha says breathlessly, skin shining with a sheen of fresh sweat. She locks eyes with you, hair tousled and lips curled into an adoring smile.

“Okay, fine,” you mutter your acquiescence, both of you knowing that statement wouldn’t hold up for long. “...Give me a minute, then I’ll clean up. You need some water, baby?”

Natasha lets out a pleased hum, snuggling into your chest.

She kisses your left boob affectionately, as you groan with sensitivity, playfully swatting at her arm. “No need. Just want you.”

“You have me,” you respond softly, running a hand through the brown locks of your wife’s hair, flattening it out with gentle strokes. “You always will.”

so that's chapter one of 'home is where the heart is!' i personally choose to believe pepper straps tony down every night. what are your thought on the kids?? mommy!nat?? butch!reader?? the incorporation of the texts?? there's so much feedback i require tbh

reblog or no more milf!nat

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

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