#excuse my poor english

[nicoloowiarchz]

/cw: kinda explicit/

Remus: Look, Sirius, I'm sorry!

Sirius:....

James: Wow, mostly it's Pads asking for your forgiveness, Moony. What happened?

Remus: It's nothing serious, he's just being dramatic.

Sirius, totally mad now: NOTHING SERIOUS?! I AM SO MAD RIGHT NOW I CAN'T EVEN SAY THE SERIOUS JOKE!

Remus: You're totally being dramatic, Sirius! I've already explained it to you and i apologized!

James: What did Moony even do to get you this mad, Pads?

Remus, sighs:...Don't get me started, James.

Sirius, looking at James with wide eyes: I WAS SUCKING HIS DICK OFF WHEN HE CALLED OUT SOMEBODY ELSE'S NAME! JAYSON CHRIS OR WHATEVER! FUCK HIM!

Remus, looking at Sirius exasperatedly: IT WAS JESUS CHRIST! AND HE'S FUCKING DEAD!

James:....

[pinkblazeplace]

Simon Abadeer

Maybe I'll do a drawing of Simon or Joy later, probably not, but who knows? maybe one day if i stop procrastinating for at least a whole day.

Simon Abadeer: Chapter 3 is here!

Joy’s character (Descendant of Finn) was created by @rosswoods06 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

[unrelatedsideblog]

Idk, idk

I have at least 3 versions of this AU lmao

[moony-to-ur-pads]

regulus was given the middle name arcturus at birth and arcturus is the fourth brightest star in the night sky and THIS MAKES SO MUCH SENSE BECAUSE as a trans man, he was the fourth in his generation to be afab and so they were essentially like ‘oh shit. we have another one ig’ because sexism, and this absolute bottom-of-the-black-house-barrel situation that regulus found himself in was what eventually turned him into such a strong slytherin, and then into a power-hungry death eater, going so far as to turn his back on the brother he loved for the sake of reputation and duty and most importantly the power he was never given, AND IN CONCLUSION basically trans!regulus makes more sense to me than the canon one in every way shape and form so thank you and good night <3

[maystea]

The something between us we don't talk about,

It's a normal thing for people in love to question what kind of relationships do they have with the people they have romantic feelings for. And so it's normal when they want something more, something bigger than just watching this person afar and talking like friends and nothing more.

And there are two solutions: confess to the person you like, or bottle your feelings and pretend like relationships between you are enough for you... but pretend doesn't mean be, right?

[ Warning ] : spoilers for episodes seven, eight, eleven, twelve, thirteen.

　

The discovery of Doh Young-Choon being switched was something very painful for Ga-On since he was convinced: the system is just and will punish the conman; but when something he had to believe into turned out to be a lie, he was stunned and returned home.

Then, after a few days, Yo-Han suggests going back home, and Ga-On doesn't mind. But what he doesn't like is the reason behind his return: Yo-Han excuses himself with Elijah and her being anxious, so Ga-On lowers his eyes and sighs; however, he still comes back with Yo-Han the same evening and even waves at Elijah with a sincere smile on his face.

In the kitchen, Yo-Han's shining like a star on the Christmas tree, while Ga-On’s mood doesn't change much after he figured out who was the Elijah who missed him; he doesn't say anything, as usual discussing with Yo-Han their plans and thoughts while drinking coffee.

　

Talking about as usual: the ending of episode eight when Ga-On took Yo-Han’s side officially, is another beautiful example of how much the show hides the true motives in emotions instead of saying them out aloud.

Ga-On takes Yo-Han’s side officially, and they’re standing on a bridge both looking at the night version of Seoul; this is when an important conversation takes its beginning: Yo-Han turns back since he was one step ahead, and Ga-On turns his torso to Yo-Han, showing him he’s all ears.

The first phrase is Yo-Han’s “do you regret it?” and Ga-On’s answer of lowering his eyes; and since Yo-Han got to know some Ga-On’s expressions and their meaning by spending countless some time with him, he nods and starts listing advantages of being on his side. Ga-On lifts his eyes at “I’ll promise you one thing,” but pretty soon lowers them again, after not hearing what only he knows he expected in his head.

So while Yo-Han lights up the whole Seoul with his contentment of Ga-On taking his side officially, Ga-On tries to quickly make another reason for him helping Yo-Han. And finds it: fighting with the wrong world; and when Yo-Han accepts it, proudly lifting his head with a satisfied look in his eyes, Ga-On turns back to him for the first time after a while.

And even though officially their agreement was based only on revenge and will to change the wrong world, the first clause of their partnership was them becoming a family; so no wonder they started to act like a married couple — because they were, even though it’s written with invisible ink.

What we else don't see is Ga-On’s reaction to Yo-Han inviting Sun-Ah to their his house in episode eleven. We just see him cooking a whole banquet dinner for a guest and him being ready to interrupt and stop every small hint of flirting between Yo-Han and Sun-Ah.

But when Sun-Ah comments on him blending into this family perfectly, Ga-On starts to literally shine: he widely and sincerely smiles, being all proud and pleased with the fact of him looking like he always was there; but the moment Sun-Ah says she's envious of Yo-Han for being not alone anymore, Ga-On raises his eyes at Yo-Han with a clear sadness in his gaze. His mood drops, and the one moment he smiles after this little talk is when Ms. Ji appears in the kitchen.

Maybe it's when Ga-On understood that being colleagues and taking down the higher-ups together is good and all, but it's not what he wants. Not when it comes to Yo-Han.

Because in the same episode, just a bit later we hear Ga-On's "once this is over, I'll definitely..." when he is with Soo-Hyun in a famous restaurant. He's in a good mood, smiles, and jokes a lot that even Soo-Hyun notices the changes that happened in her friend; and maybe it's the moment Ga-On started to think about his confession to Yo-Han since he already knows when he'll tell him how he feels.

Because Yo-Han’s plans are pretty clearly shown in episode ten, in the scene of Yo-Han building a house of cards right after they caught Doh Young-Choon: he doesn't know how many floors the building will have, but what he’s more interested in is bringing the whole thing down; Ga-On lowers his eyes, thinking about something only he knows.

And when Yo-Han acts as if he’s about to put the house down, Ga-On shudders; Yo-Han says that Ga-On thought he would destroy the whole thing, Ga-On just smiles, proving his assumptions.

Note: even though the original scene didn't look like this, the original script still has Yo-Han saying “(to me) it’d more fun to bring the building down.” So we can assume that even in the original script, Yo-Han still wanted to destroy the house of cards in one movement instead of taking avenge on his enemies slowly.

But Cha Kyung-Hee shoots herself at the end of episode eleven, and the plan starts to fall apart since it lost the main key; then, everything related to Ga-On's sanity falls apart as well. For the first time since episode eight, Ga-On drinks soju. Like he did before he officially took Yo-Han's side and threw all the years of Professor's lectionaries; now he sits all alone, drinking a few bottles and being aggressive towards annoying fans of the show.

Ga-On calmed himself down: he'll wait until Yo-Han finishes his avenge. He'll talk about his feelings after this all will be over; but now, the situation is blurred and unclear, so he attempts to talk about them now, provoking and asking in what kind of monster he turns into. But Yo-Han talks only about their destroyed plans, so Ga-On’s gaze fades, even though a minute ago it was full of hope.

So the second Yo-Han starts to say that Ga-On had to cut Soo-Hyun out of his life to save the world, the decision is already made. But when Soo-Hyun starts to say that she doesn't care about what is right and what is wrong; when she talks about how she only needs him, he hears the words he wanted to hear from Yo-Han a few days ago.

The outcome we see in Soo-Hyun's case is Ga-On kissing her and her being shocked by his actions and not responding to it in any way; the outcome in Yo-Han's case is Ga-On taking away Yo-Han's hand from his shoulder and claiming that Soo-Hyun is his world, leaving pretty soon afterward.

— As in addition : the confession scene in episode thirteen... the whole speech was made for Yo-Han from the very beginning. He might have changed some parts of it to match their relationships with Soo-Hyun but the most important parts and words were all meant for Yo-Han.

First, the way how his expression when he says he wants to like her forever and that he was scared he would ruin everything is so similar to the one he had in episode ten when he was defending Yo-Han. The same smile, the same warmth in the eyes which quickly vanishes the moment he talks about their friendship in particular and him not wanting to be alone.

Second... as it was noted in @b612sunsets's gifset, the confession pretty well describes their relationships with Yo-Han, fitting in perfectly.

[pansyboybloom]

Europeans know it is 100% possible to complain abt Americans without being classist, ableist, fatphobic, or racist, right?? Right???

[starpros-sunshine]

Points. New theme!

(Does a little spin) New theme!!

[thegothicviking]

Wtf? Since WHEN did sexualities/gender identities start to only be seen as personality traits!?!?

people need to accept that some gay/lgbt people are terrible and some gay/lgbt people are boring and it doesnt make them Actually Straight or anything

[faededaway]

If you ask me Mere Brother ki Dulhan is an absolute banger of a movie and I recommend everyone experience this Bollywood genre once.

[enfinizatics]

just randomly remembered i started watching orange is the new black as a 14yo when the 3rd season was coming out in a country that didn’t even have netflix yet and in a household where i’d MINIMIZE the tab on my computer if someone opened the door to my room. y’all girl was in DENIAL.

[dumbseee]

prom queen.

when bakugo wants to invite you to prom, but doesn’t know how to do it.

bakugo katsuki x fem!reader.

warning: bad english/grammar :p / excuse any typos!

_

"just go for it! she won’t say no!" mina encouraged her friend, smiling from ear to ear after kaminari let it slipped that bakugo wanted to invite you to prom. the poor boy did his best to not meet the glaring gaze of his friend. "forget about it! i don’t know why dunce face said that, it’s not true!" he yelled, throwing a pillow at mina. "liar! i knew you liked her! do you think you’re slick with the way you look at her during class or training? you even proclaimed yourself her male partner for training, you don’t even let another boy approach her." she crossed her arms on her chest, looking at her friend with a knowing smile. bakugo was burning up and could feel the palm of his hands starting to sparkle from the sweat. as he was about to explode in the dorm’s living room, another voice calmed him instantly.

"we’re here!" you said, arms full of shopping bags and followed by momo and jirou. mina jumped off the couch and ran to them, while bakugo kept his eye on you the whole time. you looked so beautiful, with your hair styled in a high ponytail you even put some light makeup on and damn you looked so good. "oh my god! you went to buy your dresses for prom?" mina asked and you nodded, you seemed to notice the burning gaze of bakugo on you since you turned to look at the three men sitting on the couch. you lifted your hand to wave at them and only bakugo ignored you, turning his gaze away from you and back on the tv. you frowned and bite your lip, you didn’t know why bakugo was this way with you, you were convinced that he hated you. mina brushed it off and dragged you and your friends to her dorm so you could show her the dresses you brought.

prom was tomorrow and you still haven’t got anyone to go with you. of course, you had a lot of people asking you to go with them, and they were cute guys, but you always said no. why? because you were still waiting for someone to ask you for prom. "hey, y/n! can you help me take these boxes back to the storage room?" iida asked you, snatching you out of your reveries. "oh? yes, of course!" you smiled at him, making the class rep blush slightly, you got up and took the boxes on the ground, you started walking towards the exit, thinking that iida was following you. "i think we did a great job with the decorations, don’t you think iida?" when he didn’t answer, you frowned and turned around to look at him, you almost dropped the boxes on the ground when you saw bakugo, instead of iida, holding the boxes and walking behind you. "bakugo?" you asked, slowing down your pace. the blond swallowed before looking away, a slight pink colour colouring his cheekbones. "four eyes had other things to do." he mumbled and you nodded, you didn’t want to ask more questions and make him angry, he seemed pissed off enough to be around you and having to carry those boxes. "are those heavy?" you were surprised that he spoke up again, you turned to look at him, a questioning look on your face. "i’ll carry them for you." he simply said, carrying his boxes on his right hand to scoop yours with his left. "i-it’s too heavy! let me help!" you tried to snatch back your boxes but he dodged you with ease.

"hey y/n!" a new voice stopped you from voicing your concern again, you turned to face the person calling you and it happened to be awase. you couldn’t see it but bakugo’s grip on the boxes had tightened as he glared at the boy who ran to you, he was blushing and seemed extremely uncomfortable. he tried his best to avoid bakugo’s gaze but it was hard and the blond’s aura was suffocating. "u-um, are you b-busy? i wanted to ask you something." he was fidgeting with his hands while looking away. "for now i’m helping my class decorate the ballroom for prom, and i’m going to the storage room with bakugo, is it important?" bakugo knew where this was going, he wasn’t dense and could read the room. if it was anyone else, he’d have left the scene immediately, but it was you. and ain’t no way is he letting you go to prom with this idiot. "kinda, i was wondering if you had someone to go to prom with?" he rubbing the back of his head and finally made eye contact with you.

you smiled at the boy, your heart tugging a little when you thought about the fact that the boy you wanted to go to prom with was standing behind you, probably cursing you out because you were wasting his time. you signed softly before smiling at awase, about to accept his offer, even though you really didn’t want to. when all of a sudden, you felt a strong arm wrapping around your shoulders. you looked up, and blushed furiously when you saw bakugo, looking straight at awase with that hard expression on his face. "she’s going with me, now scram before i make you fucking explode." he spat, not once looking at you. awase left in a hurry, blurting out apologies. "thanks, but you didn’t have to do that." you said, a sad smile on your lips, now you had to go to prom alone while all your friends would go with their crushes. bakugo looked at you, lifting up one of his brow. "you didn’t have to pretend you were going with me, you know." you looked down and the blond lifted up your face with two of his fingers, making you blush again. his face was now inches from yours and you didn’t know where to look, his lips looked soft but his red irises were so beautiful from up close. "you’re going with me to that stupid prom, pretty girl." he whispered, your eyes widened while he grinned at you, taking a step back and walking towards the storage room.

of course, bakugo made sure to walk in front of you so you wouldn’t be able to see his red cheeks and how he was trying to catch his breath.

[nlleri]

warnings; established relationship, rough sex, jealousy sex, degrading, names — slut & baby, breeding, nipple play, ass smacking, overstimulation, aftercare.

[ 💌 ] — english is not my first language, so please excuse for my poor grammar.

Only if you didn’t plan on flirting with Shoyo, you wouldn’t be so dumbfounded of your husband’s fat cock plunging brutally inside your velvety walls right now. Those teary eyes of yours rolled back as he pulled out another orgasm out of you, completely filling your cunt with his cum. Kenma kept an amused grin as he pounded himself into you, his shaft hitting your cervix and abusing that g-spot of yours.

“Little slut, can’t get enough of your husband’s cock that you started being needy to others huh?” He degraded while you moan his name loudly, feeling your nipple get pinched by him. His grip on your hips tightened that’ll surely bruise tomorrow. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders as he started to fastened his pace, earning a small whine from your pretty lips.

“Hmm, slow down? No baby, you wanted this right? Be a good girl and fucking take it.” A smack on your ass left a red mark on it while he spoke. Kenma didn’t bother and continued thrusting into your filled pussy, battering it with his thick cum. You let out a gasp as he pulled out, body fluids oozing out of your sensitive flesh. Small pants and whines came out of your mouth, attempting to regain to your senses. Kenma, the good husband he is, gladly helped you by spoiling you affectionately and assisting you with cleaning. Earning a kiss on your temple from him.

[notanactressyayy]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭. | natasha romanoff

. ݁₊ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 . Natasha and you were the only 'constant' in each other's lives. poor you, to think you could get over her so easily.

. ݁₊ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — making out, g!p Natasha, guided masturbation, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (p in v), choking, swearing, homesickness, fluff, reconciliation.

. ݁₊ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 . english isn't my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. been in love w Nat for a damn long time — i've been away for a while, but turns out i can't really live without her. i miss my red so much :(

Natasha Romanoff rarely had the chance to see the same face twice. She saw a lot of people throughout her life — as a spy, as a superhero, or simply as Natasha. The thing is: it was unlike she would return to a place she’s been before. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be on the run. Thus, she traveled around the whole world, and saw thousands, millions of different faces. Destiny made sure not to let her cross paths with the same individual again. It wasn’t only the diversity of people that she witnessed, though. This woman saw the world. She knew life’s ups and downs, and at some point in her life, she just got used to the idea that it would forever be like this: boring. Boring experiences, boring women, boring men, boring relationships. Nothing was ever exciting, thrilling. It felt like she was advanced in time, and the rest of the world wasn’t following her. This wasn’t a complete lie, she got her maturity at a very young age, which made her pay the price now, in adulthood. 

For a spy, the most important thing is to learn not to be caught off guard. But it seemed like life was never on Natasha’s side. And this time — it felt good. Oh, it felt so good. 

At first, she didn’t want to get high hopes. It would be just another temporary friendship to help her pass time, nothing more. However, you managed to surprise the red haired Avenger in the best way possible. When she decided to spare a little time of her life and get to know you more, it was really mind-blowing the side of herself she discovered. She never thought she could actually be.. giddy. Like a silly, hopeless romantic girl. That is what she became whenever it was time to see you. She got excited. Actually excited. She couldn’t see through you, read your emotions or body language, like she did with other people; It was a natural thing, sometimes she didn’t even mean to do that. But you, something within you, kept her at bay. Like you effortlessly turned Natasha into a normal woman. Somebody who could love. Somebody that wasn’t raised and enhanced to be a killer. Not that you went through anything like she did, but you weren’t naive. You showed her that people didn’t necessarily have to be traumatized to be aware of things, of reality, of the surroundings. And for her, you’re the most beautiful person in the whole world. Inside and out. She adored you. 

Opening up was never easy. Revealing the broken parts of herself wasn’t like having a simple chat. But patience is a virtue and thankfully, you followed that say just fine. Little by little, the secrets came out. Most of the parts you already knew — it’s not like she wasn’t a worldwide known superhero. What you mostly had to acknowledge were her feelings, the point of view of the little girl who was experiencing it all, and becoming a strong woman, with built up walls around her heart. Doing that was no problem. Natasha couldn’t be more thankful. 

She couldn’t be more infatuated. More in love.

She’d always remember that one day: in the bar with her team, and you — chattery, music, tons of drinks and laughter. Stolen glances. Stomach butterflies, wild. The moment Clint pulled Laura a little closer to himself, and Tony kissed Pepper’s cheek. How she used that as an excuse to pull you into her lap. Your breath getting labored. Eyelashes gently fluttering, to the point she could count them. Your gentle yet tight grip on her shoulders. Your goddamn eyes staring right into hers. And the part where everything would change: her own bodily reactions to all those little details about you. When you restlessly shifted on her lap, quietly gasping when something poked you through your dress. Eyes going wide at the bulge showing on her black jeans. 

From that point on, you belonged to her.

Or so, she thought.

The sex was great, but she was in conflict — she couldn't tell if the only reason for it to be that enjoyable was because you were both tipsy, almost drunk, or if it was really meant to be that way. It felt right, yes, to have you in her arms like this — naked, piles of discarded clothes laying by her bed.. the sound of your quiet snoring as you cuddled into her. It was also a relief to her. To have someone care for her, desire her, after so long, after forever. The night had been amazing. She was a mature woman anyway, wasn't she? She could sort her feelings out without messing up everything.

Wrong. By the morning, everything would change.

You stared at her as she got up and got dressed again, eyes still a little blurry from sleep, eyebrows ceasing into a small confused frown. "You're not staying?" you'd ask, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, bringing up the sheets to cover your unclothed body. "Ugh, my head hurts like hell,"

"Got things to do." she simply answered, cradling the side of your face and kissing your forehead. You could swear the look on her face was.. apologetic. She tilted her head towards the nightstand, where some aspirin and water waited for you. "Take these. I'll text you later."

"Okay.." you mumble, disoriented. As she leaves, you reach out, shoving the aspirin in your mouth and downing the pills with water. Was there something you were missing? Because all you could remember was how good her hands felt on you, the way they wrapped around you neck while she—

You shook your head, lying down again, and closing her eyes. All the fun and pleasure you had been given from the previous night was slowly vanishing and being replaced by a feeling of uncertainty and confusion. Natasha was an enigmatic person, okay, but you thought you knew her better. She had no reason to leave you just like that, especially when she had already vented about all her past experiences, flaws and failures. Nah, it was probably nothing, you were overthinking. Perhaps she indeed had something important to take care of. You closed your eyes as fatigue took over, and slept for a little bit more.

Natasha went back to her apartment — one of her apartments, and for the whole day, her thoughts ran like crazy. Her emotions were all over the place. She had just fucked her best friend, the one person she felt comfortable and at ease with. She considered her feelings carefully; this.. dinamic, between you two, had not been platonic for a considerable amount of time. But not being platonic doens't necessarily means being romantic. It could either be love, or lust. What happened the day before was carnal, once the two of you were way too much in a drunken haze to actually feel anything.

And, like always, Natasha didn't want to think about falling in love. She felt scared just by thinking about this. It was a new territory, one she wasn't willing to deep dive in. So she took her phone and deeply sighed, opening her chat with you.

"Yesterday was fun. But I need some time. I don't think this can work. Hope you're doing okay. xx"

That text just completely shattered you.

You had no idea what you did wrong. It was not like Natasha was pushing you away forever — but while being with her, the only thought running through your mind was: I wanna be with her. I wanna explore this with her. And Natasha didn't give a single sign that she thought the opposite. You felt... disappointed. With yourself and her. For hoping.

Yeah, getting involved with an ex kgb Avenger killer spy probably wasn't the best idea.

You wouldn't simply forget everything you shared together, so the easiest way here not to create a big tension was.. being fake. The two of you weren't stupid, you were aware of the unspoken feelings going on. But what happened that night should not happen again. So your friendship was what prevailed. A friendship like the start. But obviously, with a few changes. Natasha and you didn't lose touch — on the contrary, you were closer than ever. You spoke and flirted (a lot), but with one small rule, a rule that you subconsciously added to this.. situationship. No feelings involved. It would be singularly that. Friends, some casual hookups, and nothing else.

It didn't last, because that's not what you both wished, longed for.

Little by little, this turned boring again. Not that you were the boring one and she just didn't realize this before. Far from that. The thing was: Natasha and you were supressing your feelings, consequently, supressing all the thrill, the delicious tension that hanged in the air whenever she, once again, crossed paths with you. The russian wanted nothing more than just grab you and kiss you hard, pour all the emotions that she kept bottled up throughout her life into the kiss. But unfortunately, she couldn't. She had a duty to fullfil, as someone born, destined to save the world.

And with all of this, you and her settled a distance. You with your previous and trivial life, and her, saving little girls from bad guys, and bringing down cats from tall trees. It was truly shocking: one day, you lived for Natasha Romanoff. She was your everything and everything you'd ever want. In a blink of an eye, it ended. You followed your paths, like two completely different people, with different purposes.

Right person, wrong time.

Fool her, to think she could get over you that easily. Poor you, to try and put that inside of your head as well.

Sometimes, when normally doing daily tasks, you would catch yourself thinking about her — when you were going to watch TV and put your legs on the coffee table, instead of simply sitting. It was an habit of hers. Or when eating something with peanut butter. It was her favourite late night snack. When it rained. She liked to watch the rain. With somebody else's hands on you. It wasn't right. It was never right to have somebody else touch you. You were constantly thinking about your life before things with her changed — the memories brought comfort, a sense of nostalgia.. at some point, you weren't living in the present anymore. Just faking. Faking your feelings. Pretending it was okay to let her go.

This woman ruined you for everything and everyone else.

Natasha could relate to that. In a life that could be resumed in one word: a 'whirlwind' of a life, and you were her only 'constant' among all of this... she couldn't bear this anymore.

So she made an important decision.

The decision was today.

Today: she'd take you out again, praying that, if not reconciliation, she wanted at least to say everything she had to say. Because if life taught her one thing, was to make choices that she wouldn't regret in the future. And it was damn right she would regret choosing not to meet you tonight.

Sitting in the stool of the bar, in a more secluded corned, her eyes followed your figure as you approached — purse hanging on your shoulder, dress exposing your back and a little bit of your waist, eyes so awfully soft and gentle as you looked at her. It wasn't fair. A pang of guilt hit her hard. Oh, she regretted letting that go. She wanted you to be mad at her. But you were not. She shakily rises to her feet to kiss your cheek as you stand in front of her, thankfully not stumbling. Your eyes lock again, already in a trance. Just like that other day.

"How are you doing?" you ask. Natasha could cry. She missed that voice everyday. "Did I take too long? I'm sorry."

"No, no. Don't worry." she swallows hard. You both sit on the stools by the countertop. When the bartender comes, the redhead dismisses him. She wanted the two of you sober for this. "I'm... so much better now that you're here, honestly. How about you?"

"Amazing." you chuckle, tilting your head to the side and watching her. She didn't change a bit. Hair braided, black jeans, leather jacket. That was your Natasha. "I didn't expect you calling me here, to be honest..—"

"Me neither." she admits, in a whisper. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips, eyes involuntarily starting at your mouth. She sighs and looks into your eyes. "But I had to... I can't get you off my mind."

Her sincerity never fails to amaze you. With each second that passes, the butterflies in your tummy return, to remind you of the past — feelings and sensations resurfacing. You bite on your bottom lip and look around the bar, quickly scanning to see if there was anybody paying attention to the two of you. Maybe a few eyes here and there, which didn't linger. Everyone else was too busy minding their own business — and it's not like you'd care if someone was staring anyway. Natasha turned some heads. You felt greedy for that. You were the one having her. The only one having her.

"You live in my head rent free, Natasha." you tell her, voice having a sultry edge to it. You slowly stand, walking closer.

You take her hands and open her arms — making it possible for you to straddle her thigh. She tenses almost immediately. Her head tilts up to stare into your eyes, arms circling your waist to keep you close, where she wanted. You shake your head when you see a small frown between her eyebrows — lips pressing against that small spot, coaxing a little exhale of hers. She missed you. Everyday. Every minute. She wanted that respect and care all the time.

"What are we even doing here?" she whispers, so quietly you almost can't hear it. Her hands cup your waist and gently roam up and down your sides, palms brushing against your bare skin every now and then, all thanks to the waist slits of your dress. Your face leans closer to hers, noses bumping — the smallest of touches, making you both crave what you once had. "Why didn't I just invite you to my place right away?"

"I don't know. Why didn't you?" you raise one eyebrow, fingertips caressing her jawline. Her hands give your waist a squeeze — and you almost moan. She swore she could hear it. It replayed in her head, the beautiful sounds you made for her. She wanted to hear them again. She was going to make you sound like that again.

It wasn't just a physical thing — your body and mind craved her touch, her presence, so much that just the mere thought of being on her bed again got you soaked. She felt something wet through the rough fabric of her jeans, and that got her brain spinning. She fell for you hard. So painfully hard.

"Let's get out of here," she groans, hands firmly grabbing your thighs and lifting you up — wrapping your legs around her waist and carrying you out the pavement. Her hardness pressed right against your core — you blushed, hiding your face on her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her neck.

In a heartbeat, you were back at your house.

Your place, because it was the fastest way, when taking the cab. No words were exchanged, not yet. The aching, burning need had to be taken care of first — before properly talking. Your back hits the wall hard as Natasha pushes you against it — her body trapping you between herself and the hard surface — hands hardly, possessively holding you by the hips. Desperately, even. Making sure you wouldn't slip away from her grasp. Her lips dance with yours, tentatively, yet naturally, tongues tasting one another after what felt like centuries. She felt so good, tasted so good.

"Nat..—" you moan against her lips, having her bottom lip trapped between your teeth, then releasing it. Your forehead against hers, eyes soft and filled with desire. Your hands hold her cheeks, traveling to her jaw. Needily, you press kisses to the side of her throat, breathing shaky, heart hardly thrumming. "I never stopped thinking about you..."

"Yeah?" she hums, grabbing the hem of your dress and lifting it up, bunching the fabric by your hips. Her fingers hook around the elastic of your panties and pull them down, pooling around your feet — making you gasp, and pull away from her neck. Eyes wide open. The air hits your heat, making you needier for her.

You almost mewl.

"God, I need you." Natasha utters. She grabs you again and smashes her lips against yours once more, now with so much more passion, more need, more anxiety. Her bulge presses against your now unclothed wetness, coaxing a tiny cry of need out of you. You breathlessly pull away from her, reaching down and fumbling with the buttons of her jeans — until she stops you.

"No—"

"Quiet." she shushes, maneuvering you back, until your body hits the mattress. She climbs onto the bed and stays in a kneeling position, hungrily taking you in. Messy, needy, all for her. Sober, like she wanted planned from the first time. "That dress goes off."

Her voice is commanding, yet not harsh — and her eyes betray her a little. Her eyes are almost pleading, that it is clear how much she needs this. To have you all to herself, to show you how much she wants that. Her underwear becomes even more tight as she sees your trembling fingers, pulling the dress over your head and tossing it aside, lips parted. Just by her look, you can tell she wants the bra off, too. So you reach behind your back and grants her silent wish, breasts now exposed to her sight.

"There you are..." she moans to herself, shamelessly taking in the sight of you. You're a work of art. With her hand, she coaxes your knees open, and parts your legs. "My... you're so wet. So perfectly wet."

"You're still with a lot on.." you quietly complain, feeling hot and shy at the same time. But her gaze is enough to wipe away the confusion from your eyes. She had a plan.

"Touch yourself for me." she breathes out.

Your eyes briefly widen with the unexpectedness of this statement. You had certainly done this before — touched yourself thinking of her — but the idea of showing this, while she watched, never crossed your mind. But it wasn't an unpleasant idea. It was actually... hot. Sensual. They darken, pupils blown wide as you make yourself comfortable against the pillows, eyelids fluttering as your legs spread a little more, palm resting on your stomach, then moving down. Deliberately, it reaches your sex, a shakily sigh leaving your lips when your middle and ring finger collect some of the slick coat covering your sensitiveness, using it to slowly rub your clitoris, getting you to gasp louder.

"Natasha..." you whisper, eyes falling close, thoughts wandering.

Wandering back to the start — when you first discovered your feelings for her, then the climax, when you both got in bed due the alcohol — then the aftermath, when you needed her so much, felt so alone at night, that your fingers were the only solution. Little wet sounds echo within the room as you rub circles on yourself, applying just the right amount of pressure, that it doesn't take long for the pit in your stomach to manifest itself.

"Faster." Natasha rasps out, taking her jacket and quickly throwing it away. She pulls her tank top over her head, then undo the buttons of her jeans — leaving the bed, just so she can get rid of all the uncomfortable fabric, and climbing it again. She crawls closer to you — eyeing you as you worked on your pussy, her hands caressing your thighs, adding to the stimulation.

"Please...!" you whimper, doing as you're told — rubbing yourself faster — slipping one of your fingers inside your entrance, almost cumming, that quickly. "Please, I need you..!"

"I need you too," she moans to herself, and harshly grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away. You moan loudly in protest — Natasha wouldn't tease you. Not today, when you both needed each other so much. She discards her undergarments, finally — groaning as she's set free. Your eyes lock on her hard length, which was practically hitting her abs now.

"Put it inside me." you beg, grabbing her shoulders to pull her closer. She hovers over you, bracing herself on her forearms, on each side of your body. Your fingernails gently graze her back. Natasha was feeling so much, so much more than she ever felt. Your eyes were sparkling so much, like you were crying — shimmering with the depth of your adoration for her. You grab her cheeks and press your lips to hers, in a gentle peck. Knowing her past, she didn't have to explain her reasons for what had happened. She was scared before, and you respected. "Go on. Love me."

She couldn't wait no longer. She lowers her forehead to your shoulder and places her hands on your hips — her chest against yours, as she lined herself with your hole, effortlessly pushing inside. Stretching you out, like she once did. Having the chance to hear that delicious sounds again.

"You're mine... shit," she groans, rolling into you gently, getting you used to the feeling first. You're so tight, so perfect around her. Natasha's overwhelmed. Her hands press against the base of your throat, squeezing firmly, yet leaving enough room for air. She's so hot. "That pussy is mine. You're mine. You're all mine—"

"Yes," you moan, wrapping your legs around her middle. You wouldn't take long to come tonight. Maybe she'd make you come over and over. She rocks into you, pace not too slow, not too fast. Just right. The right tempo to bring you both the pleasure and connection you so much needed. "Mhm.. fuck, Nat, missed your cock,"

"You're gonna take it over and over—" she comments — kissing your shoulder, roaming her hands up your body, her right palm cupping your breast and giving it a firm squeeze. Your head lolls back, mouth opening to allow a satisfied moan out. "I'm never fucking letting you go again,"

She accelerates, pulling almost all the way out just to slam back into you again — feeling her climax approach. She moves her mouth close to your ear and moans — her own sounds now mixing with yours.

"Natasha...! Fuck, you feel soo good," you gasp, a wave of pleasure washing over you as you get closer. She takes the hint immediately, cupping the back of your knee and pushing it up, allowing her a better angle. "Ah, gimme more,"

"My greedy girl," she groans, her head tilting back. Her cock twitches inside of you — precum already painting you white. She glanced down at where your folds swallowed her, eyes darkening impossibly more. "You're so goddamn tight... 'm not gonna last, moya krasivaya malysha,"

"Okay.. 'ts okay... Cum with me..." you beg her, tangling your fingers into her red strands of hair, pulling her down more, so her forehead rests against yours — the eye contact increasing the intimacy of the moment. She didn't know what to expect now. Didn't know what to think. Only that she had to fill you up.

"C'mon.. nhg, darling.. c'mon.. cum around me," she encourages, feeling her own legs shake as her orgasm washed over her.

She grabbed your hips hard and slammed into you — once, twice, three times, filling you up with her hot release. You squeezed your eyes shut as your body shuddered forwards, breasts pressing against her own as a long, strangled moan flowed out of you, nails digging into her back, pressing her body against yours as you finished. Your walls clenched around her cock, swallowing her more, not allowing her to pull away just that. "God.. I love you!"

Natasha blinks, not sure if she heard right. Her heart squeezes in her chest, arms wrapping around your body. Her back hits the bed and she flips you on top of her, still inside of you — but now, her member softened. The adrenaline was running wild, but you had calmed down a little bit. Just a little. Because this time, it wasn't pure sex. It was lovemaking.

Your face is buried in her chest as she brings up the covers, creating a cocoon of warmth around you. She buries her face into your hair and inhales deeply, staying silent. Just to process things.

"I love you, too. So so much." she murmurs into you hair. She felt terrified to say this. But once you're someone who she already showed her scars to, it's not that bad anymore.

"You do?" you ask expectantly, feeling tired, drowsy. Natasha smiles at that. She feels her eyes burning with heavy emotion. She nods.

"Yes... I love you so much." she confirms, softly stroking her hair, brushing some strands away from your sweaty forehead. "And I want you to be mine. Will you be mine?"

"You're asking me to be your girlfriend after the sex?" you chuckle quietly, but happiness was evident in your voice. Now you could sleep at peace. The first night of rest you'd have in a long time. In the arms of the woman you cherished, worshipped.

Natasha had won now. She was so fucking relieved. All because of a phrase.

"Of course I will, you idiot."

"I'm never, ever, ever letting you go again." the room is messy, smell of sex lingering around you. But now things were sorted out. By the morning, you could have a more direct, serious conversation. For now, you'd rest together, wrapped up in each other's arms, like it was always meant to be.

[choerypetal]

Little Accidents / Paul Atreides

Summary: Paul's obliviousness was soon shattered when frequent visits to the nursing room revealed the true essence of love at first sight.

Ps: This is a short fluff I had in mind, but I hope you enjoy and also english isn't my first language so bare with minimal errors, (once upload i always make sure to update now my works, if there is any errors) Enjoy! XOXO

As the heir of the Atreides' House, Paul effortlessly following in his father's esteemed footsteps. He possesses an acute sense of ownership, ensuring he's well aware of everything under his purview. Whether it's news of your battle injuries or workplace mishaps, Paul is always the first to know, abandoning any prior engagements to rush to your aid. While you're being tended to, his concern is palpable; his eyes scan for any signs of harm as he utters all while using the voice. ‘Where?’ This gesture of worry has become familiar, a reassurance you've grown accustomed to, especially when your visits to the infirmary often serve as an excuse to steal moments with him. ‘Dropped a weapon on my foot,’ you explain with a hint of ruefulness, ‘guess my impatience got the better of me, inadvertently knocking out one of the armories. Pity.’

Indeed, quite a pity. Paul couldn't help but notice your composure, devoid of any telltale signs of injury. It either seemed that the nurse had efficiently tended to you before his arrival—a stroke of luck, perhaps. However, Paul wasn't fooled; this wasn't the first time you'd urgently summoned him to the infirmary. Today, he harbored suspicions that you might finally reveal the true reason behind your frequent visits. “If you'd prefer I refrain from using the Voice," he remarked, a hint of seriousness in his tone, "you'll need to be more forthcoming than simply labeling it an accident, my dear."

However, you eventually reassured the head nurse, explaining that it was merely a minor issue requiring attention. Your heart fluttered with a mixture of nerves and affection as Paul insisted on tending to your wounds himself, rather than delegating the task to anyone else. As the room cleared, leaving just the two of you alone, Paul attempted to devise a plausible excuse while discreetly observing your work. This added another layer of challenge for him, yet he remained determined to keep a watchful eye on you. “Now tell,” A pregnant pause was felt soon as he sat next to you. “How I am suppose to know, that there is probably more reason than just a visit at the nursery?” 

You find yourself drawn in by his innocence, but observing Paul working alongside his father and their associates, it becomes evident that innocence was not his defining trait anymore. In fact, there's a possibility he understands more than he lets on. Maybe he's even willing to engage in the game you're playing. You nonchalantly dismiss any concerns, offering the excuse that you're just adding a bit of spice to the situation. However, Paul's reaction suggests that perhaps it's not the right moment to discuss such matters, especially anything related to the Spice itself.

Paul tilted his head, almost taking offense at your attempt at humor. Despite his awareness of your desire to spend more time alone with him, he understood that convincing him to stay a little longer each time wasn't as simple as it seemed. Even if his attempts at pampering you, like tending to invisible wounds that morphed into cuddle sessions, were charming, he recognized that your discussions about the 'Spice' were more about politics than relaxation. Poor thing– that was all he knew about out. This realization led to a soft chuckle from you, followed by an apology for bringing up the topic. However, Paul dismissed your apology, urging you not to discuss such matters, especially around him, as he couldn't help but wonder why you frequented the nursing room more often than before. “Now tell me, or I might just become as impatient as you’ll be when demanding kisses..”

His voice trailed off, almost seductive when Paul was right about to expose this little game of yours. Instantly you could feel his lip curve slightly into a smirk as he saw your expression, your eyes winding in shock, trying your very best to obliged. That you were the one who meant to shock Paul out of his work for some time but, perhaps you were indeed right about your wonders. That in fact, Paul knew that the exact reasons why you obliged yourself to the nursing room more often than ever. Only to find out, it was to spend more time with him. But Paul being himself, being the type of guy that he is, did not to confess his wrong at first or to be completely oblivious. After all– he is the duke’s son. 

"So, let me get this straight," Paul Atreides began, his tone tinged with a mixture of disbelief and introspection. "I, Paul Atreides, am so easily ensnared by your little charade? It's rather disheartening, truth be told." There was a hint of a pout on his lips as he contemplated your adeptness at expressing your desires, though he couldn't entirely fault you for it. With the constant demands of dealing with the Harkonnens and managing CHOAM affairs, finding time for you had become more challenging than he and you had anticipated. 

Unlike his parents, whose marriage was purely political, Paul had chosen a different path, one where your presence held a significance beyond mere political alliances. For him, building a future within the confines of the Atreides' House with you by his side was a deeply personal and cherished desire. Material wealth could wait; what mattered most was the connection he shared with you. With a sigh, he reached out to gently caress your cheek, a silent acknowledgment of your correctness all along. Perhaps it was time to prioritize his own happiness, even if it meant putting paperwork aside momentarily. "Maybe you're onto something," he admitted, his voice softening. "Perhaps you’re right, perhaps it's time for me to take a break from the endless bureaucracy and spend some quality time together. After all, even I need to unwind–."

Paul's words carried a weight of remorse rarely heard, especially within the esteemed Atreides family. As he neared the end of his sentence, you leaned in swiftly, feeling the soft brush of his lips against yours in a lingering kiss. The longing shared between you both was palpable, though circumstances often made indulgence impractical, intensifying the desire even more. When Paul finally pulled away, he gently nibbled at your lower lip, a playful chuckle escaping him at the sudden surge of hunger between the two of you. There was an undeniable yearning to touch, caress, and love you. "Perhaps I'll request a day off," he murmured, his voice laced with a hint of promise. “Perhaps you will.” You both end up chuckling as he cups your face, his eyes gazing from your eyes to your lips. Paul confessed once more,

“And perhaps, we don't always have to use the excuse of happy accidents, so I can exile from paperwork every now and then.” 

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Hey there could I request G!P professor!nat x shy!quiet!reader where reader goes to the school dance alone and feels like a loser for not having the balls to talk or join in with other people but then nat decides to keep her company because she can’t stand seeing her favorite student all pathetic just standing there like a lost puppy and then they sneak off to do “other” stuff

Favourite

Paring: fem!reader x prof!Nat

Warnings: SMUT, amab!Nat, top!Nat, bottom!reader, age gap (legal), taboo relationship, soft sex, p in v, brief oral, soft!Nat, virgin!reader, gentlewoman!Nat

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional. I do not own these characters!

A/N: I’m not dead yet and more active noe

I had always thought in college things would change for girls like me, the quiet ones, with a few friends, who you would only talk to to copy their homework. However it stayed that way or at least for me. I had found my small group of friends but I was far from well socialised in my college. But I wasn’t complaining about it either after all it left more time to study.

Most of the lessons I attended were boring except for one: Russians literature with Professors Romanoff, a tall, athletic woman, with red hair and the greenest eyes you had ever seen. You didn’t mind her talking for hours about poems and novels and what we were supposed to think of them. However you couldn’t care less about the words leaving her mouth when you’re eyes were only fixated on her lips.

Eventually more of the semester passed and soon it was time for the annual ball. Because of your low social status you didn’t even try to find a date opting on going alone instead, it wouldn’t be that bad right?

Once there you where alone, the few friends which you had didn’t bother to attend so you stood alone at the side of the large room your eyes fixated on the ground. You should just go, you thought to yourself. “Good evening, Y/N” you heard the familiar husky voice next to you. You looked up only to be greeted by your smirking professor. She looked gorgeous having picked out a matching suit to her eyes.

“Hi, Ms. Romanoff” she leaned against the wall next to me her eyes darting over my smaller body. “Where’s your date?” “I don’t have one” I answered truthfully, her expression stayed the same it was hard to read her. “And you’re friends?” I sighed she knew the answer to that already. “They didn’t attend.” She chuckled licking her lips like a predator who just found it’s helpless prey. “Poor girl, all alone and needs her professor to keep her company”

I let out a small laugh which sounded incredibly fake. Her words made my cheeks heat and I didn’t even know why. “Could be worse” I looked up in her eyes again “You’re a very pleasant conversation partner” “Am I?” She chuckled “That means a lot to me, hearing my favorite student say something like that” “I’m your favorite?” you stammered out “Trust me bunny a girl like you” Her hand trailed to my hip “You hardly get something like that every ten years. I’m very happy to have you”

Her words made my heart flutter and my head turn. I was special, Romanoff’s girl. “Do you mean that?” My voice was still a bit shaky. “Of course I do. We should go somewhere more private” I nodded her hand intertwined with mine she pulled me with her through the masses into the parking lot. Once seated in her expensive looking her hand never left my thigh before she started the car she leaned over to me our lips inches apart I tried to lean forward but her hands pushed my shoulder back against the car seat.

“Don’t do this to make me happy” She paused her eyes looking sensire “It won’t affect your grade no matter how you decide.” “I want this”

I breathed out our lips immediately finding each other. The kiss was passionate and heated until Nat pulled away to fasten my seat belt.

“I’ll drive to my apartment” She put her own seatbelt on “Is that okay with you or do you want to go to your dorm” “I’d like to join your tonight” Natasha gave you a cheeky grin at the response her plan had worked out perfectly.

Arriving at her apartment she seated you on her leather couch. She paced around her living room having two wine glasses in hand. “Do you want a glass?” I laughed I was extremely nervous but in a good way “Oh, I don’t drink but I’ll have a water instead” She just nodded accepting my preferences.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve met” She laughed slipping away from her wine glass. “And I’m not just saying that because of the wine.” She added she was sat next to her hand on your thigh. She had long forgotten about her crumpled up suit jacket on the ground though she normally was so precise about keeping everything organized.

“You don’t look bad either” You laughed she pulled you on her lap forcing you to but your legs on either side her crotch on yours. “Let me kiss you” she mumbled against you wet lips. You lips were pressed together so where your bodies and you could feel a bulge poking you. “Fuck you make me so hard” she breathed out on your lips making you moan out in response.

We were caught in the dance of our tongues when I felt her standing up her arms under my ass supporting my weight. I giggle and tighten my grip around her. “Let me take you to the bedroom”

She laid me out on the bed being careful with every item removed and making sure I was comfortable. She kissed everything inch of my skin paying extra attention to my sweet spots and I never felt so loved before. “Have you done that before” She breathed put against my skin.

“Never” I answer truthfully and suddenly I felt a dang of jealousy in my chest. “Is that- a problem?” My professor moved up again before kissing me “Of course not” She looked me in the eyes with her green eyes. “Will you let me be your first” She was being incredibly cheesy but Iiked that. It made me feel safe. “Yes”

She took one of my nipples in her mouth twisting and turning the other with her trained fingertips. She made me putty in her hands with each lick or flick she brought a new sound from my tongue.

My back arched which only made her increase the speed of her movements. After she seemed it to be enough foreplay she kissed her way down to my pubic bone, pressing her nose against my skin to take in the smell of my sweet arrausel. “Can I bunny?” She smirked and kissed your clit I was already wet but Nat was dying for a taste. She flicked her tongue over my now exposed bud. The pleasure was incredible better than any other toy I ever had and you tried to not lose my mind as she teased you bundle of nerves.

She pulled away shortly after ripping away my release in front of my eyes. I looked at her confused as she was already freeing herself from her boxer. She didn’t have a size to be ashamed of and her bush was well groomed too, like you would’ve suspected. She pumped herself a few times groaning until she was fully hard a little droplet of cum on the redden tip.

“Wait I’ll put a condom on” She reached for the drawer but you stopped her “I’m on the pill” Her lips formed a smirk as she positioned herself between my legs. “It’s not gonna hurt sweetheart” She reassured you kissing my neck.

She pushed inside and I making me scratch down her toned back making her whimper. Fuck her whimpers where hot. She bottomed me out looking down at where our bodies were connected she smiled up at you and you smiled back and after I nodded to her she picked up pace.

She was slow at first making me want more you could tell she being careful with you. “Faster” I moaned out making you hips buckle into her trusts. She moaned like a pornstar panting above me as she increased her speed the bed creaking. She made my back arch and my eyes squeezed shut as I released my quiet prayers for her.

“You close?” She panted and I nod “Fuck, your so tight” I grabbed on her shoulders scratching down as I came all over her shortly after she filled me up too. She pulled out the cum leaking down my legs. She climbed up my body flipping us over so I lay on her chest.

“You’re my favourite” She whispered and kissed my sweaty forehead

:)

[fear-is-truth]

❝ 𝑫𝒊𝒅 𝑰𝒕 𝑯𝒖𝒓𝒕 .ᐣ ❞

── tate langdon x virgin!fem! reader

TAGS: sexual content, mdni・virgin!fem!reader・loss of virginity・ unprotected sex・ vāginal fingering・ english is not my first language・not proofread ・2.2k words

note: this is highly requested so here goes… please excuse the poor writing, thank you.

“No need to be so nervous, I’ll take care of you. Promise.” Tate gave you that cocky, boyish smirk before nuzzling his nose against yours. He was kissing you again before you could think of a sassy comeback, rolling you to lay on your back. You succumbed to the warm, throbbing sensation in your lower gut that had ignited the second his hands tugged at the hem of your skirt. Long, agile fingers traced the planes of your abdomen and delicate hipbones as you were exposed, the garment discarded to the floor. You tilted your head back against the pillow when he moved his attention to your collarbone, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he started kissing and sucking at your pulse point.

His palm was warm when it made contact with the underside of your breast, gently squeezing. You jumped a little at the sudden contact and Tate withdrew his hand as if he was scalded, eyes darting up to look at your face.

“…You okay?”

You nodded, biting down on your lower lip, feeling your face heat up. Your chest felt tight, excitement and nervousness swirling together.

“Yeah, ‘m okay,”

“You sure?”

His gaze softened as he reached up to gently press his thumb against your lip, pulling it free from your teeth.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured, his voice low but gentle, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You swallowed hard, your nerves still bubbling up, but there was something about the way he was looking at you—like he wasn’t in any rush, like he wanted to make sure you were comfortable before anything else.

“I just wasn’t expecting it,” you admitted, fingers fidgeting slightly in your lap.

He gave you a soft, understanding nod, his thumb still lightly brushing your bottom lip.

“Alright, tell me if I do something that… doesn’t feel right, m’kay? We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell. It wasn’t that you didn’t want this—you did. But the nervous energy still buzzed beneath your skin, and he was perceptive enough to notice it without you having to say anything. His hand found yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Okay.”

Your eyelids fluttered closed as Tate’s lips returned to the hollow of your clavicle, his breath warm and soft against your skin. You could feel his soft blonde curls brushing against your cheek, the sensation comforting and electric at the same time. Each tentative kiss he placed there sent a ripple of desire through your loins like molten honey, the nerves from before slowly melting into something warmer, softer.

His hand returned to cup your breast, but this time the touch was lighter, his fingers barely ghosting over your skin as if silently asking for permission. You swallowed as Tate gently rolled your stiff nipples between his thumb and forefinger, giving enough stimulation without hurting you. Pleasant warmth tingled down your spine, and a soft sigh escaped you.

This felt nice.

Tate pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips curving into a soft smile when he saw that you were more at ease.

“Does it feel good?” he murmured earnestly, the words barely filling the space between you. You nodded, cheeks still flushed but for a different reason now. There was no denying it now, your panties were embarrassingly damp.

“Good,”

His lips pressed against the underside of your jaw, when his tongue traced a slow, deliberate path along your jugular, your pulse fluttered wildly beneath his touch. Tate carried on with his administrations for a while, massaging your breast with his palm and occasionally running his thumb across your nipple. The sensations that he evoked was almost overwhelming, and without thinking, your hand reached out, grabbing a fistful of the bedsheets to steady yourself. Warm breath ghosting over the skin of your other breast, he moved closer to his destination, leaving goosebumps and hickeys in their wake.

You gasped when his lips brushed against your nipple, hot tongue circling the areola and causing your abdominal muscles to tighten. Warmth spread through your body like a wildfire, and you found yourself arching your back and grinding against his palm for more friction. His hand slid down to curl around your waist, gently tugging at the waistband of your panties. You lifted your hips slightly, allowing him to remove the last article of clothing.

With a shuddering intake of breath, you fought the urge to cover up your body. This isn’t just anyone. This was Tate, and he loved you as much as you loved him. You trusted him, and he had promised to take good care of you.

You raised a hand to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his soft, golden curls as his chin rested on your shoulder. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours, grounding you in the moment.

“Can I– can I touch you?”

Tate pulled back slightly, just enough for his eyes to meet yours, those dark brown eyes shining with earnest concern. Brows furrowed as he searched your face, trying to read you.

“Yes,”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your fingers tightening in his hair as he traced his fingers along the inside of your thigh before tugging at your knees, having you plant the bottom of your feet on the mattress, on either side of his hips. By the time his fingertips explored the junction of your thighs, liquid desire was dripping down from the centre of your chest, pooling in your abdomen and spreading down to your loins.

“Fuck… you’re so wet,”

He muttered lowly when he spread open your folds with your fingers. Instinctively, you clenched your thighs around his waist as he gathered your slickness, circling around your aching core before slowly pushing a finger into you. A strangled gasp escaped you when he curled his finger, the sensitive bundle of nerves set alight by his touch. Panting and whimpering, you clawed at his shoulder when you felt Tate insert another finger, the pad of his thumb stroking you in a soothing rhythm as he steadily pumped his fingers in and out of you.

It wasn’t long before you felt your entire body tense up, the pressure he had been coaxing from you having finally reached its crest. The tight coil in your lower belly snapped — segueing into white hot bursts of pleasure that was blinding in its own intensity. Walls still fluttering around his fingers, you trembled with the force of your orgasm, a kittenish mewl bubbling deep from your throat.

And suddenly Tate was gone. Your eyes snapped open blearily to protest, but the whimper died down when you saw your boyfriend hunched over in concentration, fingers working frantically; the noticeable bulge of his arousal straining through the denim as he yanked down his jeans and boxers, his erection springing free and touching his belly. He grasped his cock in his hand, giving it a few harsh pumps. The entire time his gaze was locked on you, revelling in the way you stared at him. You have never seen a real penis before.

He returned to his position onto the mattress and between your legs. Upon feeling his hardness pressing against your hip, your body tensed in anticipation and your breathing quickened almost instantly as Tate guided his cock towards your entrance.

How was that even supposed to fit?

“Are you ready? I mean it’s okay if–”

His gaze flickered down to your warm, weeping hole, waiting and ready just for him. He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes, trying to stop himself from shoving himself inside you right then and there.

“Y-yess. Oh please, yes.”

Smiling at your eager answer, he shifted a bit, angling himself as he pushed the tip into you, and you winced at the sudden intrusion. There was no excruciating pain like you’d imagined — just a burning sensation from stretching unconditioned muscles. Sensing your reaction, Tate paused, breathing heavily.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Taking a deep breath, you wrapped your legs around his waist and relaxed your muscles, allowing your body to sink back onto the sheets. Tate resumed his movements, carefully sliding deeper inside you. Each delicious, agonising inch stretched you in a way that could only be described as glorious, you could feel every ridge and vein that mapped the surface of his length rub against your walls. Taking your fingers through his hair, you felt him shudder, his cock throbbing and hardening inside you which caused the embers of warmth in your gut to reignite.

“Oh my… mghm please, T-Tate..”

You whimpered into his ear, who prompted a low moan from him. An arm wrapped securely around your waist as his hips withdrew before pressing back inside; you spread your legs wider for him and he groaned. The pace he’d established was slow, but steady. Heat washed over you in waves every time he moved, trailing hot kisses along your neck. Every slow pass of his tongue against your skin made your chest tighten with a mixture of nerves and excitement — he moved with a perfect balance of sweetness and intent, never too much, but just enough to leave you breathless and aching for more.

You mewled softly as his hips jerked a bit harder, the movement sending a ripple of sensation through your body. Tate leaned down, capturing your lips in his. His hand cradled your jaw, thumb brushing gently along your cheek as he guided you into the kiss. The other hand found yours, fingers lacing together in a firm but gentle hold, anchoring you. Arching your back, you tilted your hips to meet his thrusts and was immediately rewarded when he brushed against a specific spot inside you that made you cry into his mouth. Tearing away, you panted out his name, your sweaty foreheads pressed against each other.

“P-please,” you begged, the ability to string together a coherent sentence lost.

“…Please Tate,”

“Yeah?” He nuzzled the tip of his nose against yours. “What do you need baby?”

“Need you to… to…”

He withdrew the arm that was holding your waist and shifted his weight on his elbows before sliding the hand between you, pressing the pad of his thumb gently against your clit.

“Like this?”

A stretched whine escaped from your lips into the space between you, and you dug the heels of your feet into his backside, anchoring him to bury himself deeper into you, helping him breach that magical spot once more. Fingernails scrabbling frantically across his shoulders, down to his chest.

Tate grunted, face scrunching up in pleasure and restraint. His hips stuttered, his thrusts growing increasingly sloppier but the rhythm of his thumb remained steadfast — you felt him twitch within the confines of your plushy walls, and with a muffled whimper against your shoulder, he spilled into you, warmth spreading through your womb like a wildfire. Your thighs quivered and your eyes screwed shut, fingers digging crescent indents into his skin as white-hot pleasure consumed over you once again, your cunt convulsing around him.

After you’ve came down from your high, which was a sticky, sweaty but satisfying mess, you untangled your legs from his waist to rest on the mattress, fingers tangling into his hair. Tate raised his head to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You alright?”

Basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, you simply hummed in affirmation, nosing at his cheek with a tired smile. He pulled out carefully before collapsing beside to, reaching over to lazily tug you into his arms. You snuggled against his chest, the sore ache between your legs only registering when you moved.

Tate’s breath was warm against your shoulder as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his voice a soft murmur, laced with concern.

“Did it hurt?” his tone hesitant, almost fragile. “I’ve heard that the first time usually does.”

You could feel his heartbeat, fast and anxious, the tenderness in his voice making your own chest tighten. His fingers brushed softly along your arm, as though he was trying to soothe you without knowing whether you needed it. You gently exhaled, your hand still resting at the nape of his neck, fingers playing with the curls that had fallen there.

“No,” you whispered, your voice steady but soft. “It didn’t hurt. It was just… intense, but not in a bad way. Not the hurting kind.”

Tate lifted his head, brown eyes meeting yours, relief visibly softening the furrow of his brow. He searched your face, still wanting to make sure, still holding onto a hint of concern. His thumb grazed your cheek, and his gaze softened even more, his lips parting slightly as he seemed to drink in your every word.

“You sure? I didn’t want to—”

You shook your head gently, cutting him off with a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure, Tate. It was perfect… you were perfect.”

He exhaled deeply, as if he’d been holding his breath, and his whole body seemed to relax. He pressed his forehead to yours, his fingers lacing with yours once again, holding on as if to remind you that he was still there, still gentle, still yours.

“Okay,” he whispered, the word barely more than a breath. His thumb caressed your cheek once more before his lips found yours again, softer this time.

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