#mj responds

[felassan]

.

[moon-jellie]

Why so arrested -the developer

[4trackcassette]

listening to the one music playlist email i ever do and the first song is girls by the dare...i said to my coworkers that the dare guy was coming to my town (or near-ish) and they were like oh who is that so i played them the intro to girls and within 2 seconds my hot coworker says "this is the worst thing i've ever heard in my entire life". i still kinda like it tho

[gods-favorite-autistic]

The different Spider-Men (mostly from Into the Spiderverse) as people at a family reunion

Original Spider-Man from Miles’s universe is the dad, Peter B Parker is the queer uncle, Spider Noir is the fresh out of jail aunt who has had like 5 glasses of wine since he got here, Penni is that one cousin who no one can say no to, Miles is the son who is just so done with everything, Spider Ham is the stray that no one really knows how it got here but hey he’s not tearing up the house so it’s fine, Gwen is the friend Miles begged to come along so that he didn’t have to do this alone, Tom Holland Spider-Man is the cousin who just spends the entire time talking to his friends/helping Penni build a Lego set, Tobey Maguire Spider-Man is the uncle who just wants to sleep, Andrew Garfield Spider-Man is the oldest cousin who spends the entire time talking shit about the adults and then goes for a walk and just doesn’t come back but nobodies worried cause he does this every year, and Ultimate Spider-Man Peter is the middle cousin trying to cause as much chaos and drama as he can without getting in trouble

[austinbutlermischief]

Happy Monday

Oof! MJ, smh are you sure you are ready for the response that will come from this morning "assault"?!

[bookishjules]

2 days

[mjjune]

You are an amazing writer.

ANONYMOUSLY TELL ME YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT ME. I CAN’T REPLY/COMMENT, JUST PUBLISH.

[prickly-paprikash]

Pushing aside the fact that I am, quite possibly, a Kendrick fan—disregarding my biases, I think Drake needs to stop. Push Ups was a good diss. Surface level, vapid, but it possessed that mean, petty spirit that carries a diss track all the way. Even bringing up accusations that are, realistically speaking, unlikely still works because a diss is supposed to show just how much you hate a person and how cleverly you can bring it.

Taylor Made was weird. I get that it was a strategy. Drop the main diss first and then drop this one to really prod at Kendrick. Using Pac and Snoop AI voices sucks though. Distilling Kendrick as Taylor's underling also doesn't work because Kendrick only collaborated with her once (twice when they remade Bad Blood) and that's it. Meanwhile Drake is out here always looking for new, up and coming artists to pounce on their trends or cling to established artists. Then it got taken down, because of course it would have been. You used 2Pac's voice. Did you really think his estate, his family, wouldn't do anything?

So he bought Pac's ring and used his voice without permission. More and more we see just how much of a vulture Drake is.

And then Euphoria drops.

Your first diss was met with solid reactions. Your second got taken down. Kendrick drops on a random hot Tuesday, and in a matter of hours surpasses your numbers that took weeks to accumulate. Kendrick did that. Euphoria was also harsh, clever, and sounded so good that people kept replaying it over and over again. Once more, Kendrick schools you.

A few insiders then say that Drake will drop that night. Right after. But he then allegedly gets cold feet. A few hours later from when Drake was supposedly ready to drop but backs out, Kendrick drops 6:16 in LA.

In your previous disses, you begged Kendrick to drop something with quintuple entendres. Euphoria did that. But he took it a step further by naming his second diss 6:16 in LA.

June 16: Father's day. Referencing the fact that Drake has been proven to be a deadbeat father.

June 16, 1971: Tupac's Birthday. Kendrick idolizes him. Drake steals from him.

June 16, 2019: First episode of Euphoria drops. A show Drake is listed as a producer on. A show about underage girls entering a life of sex, substance abuse, and more. Things that Drake has been accused of repeatedly in the past.

June 16, 2011: in June 2, 2011, Kendrick posted on his twitter that there will be a concert at Toronto on 6/16. Allegedly this is where Drake and Kendrick first met.

6:16 AM: The time of release for this track.

6:16: Multiple possible Bible verses, given Kendrick's Christian background.

Other claims felt like reaches though, so I'll stick to that.

The final two lines of 6:16 also reference the Michael Jackson, R. Kelly, and their song "You Are Not Alone". Drake, who has always claimed he is Michael Jackson or at the very least his equal/successor, is now tied to him in a way he does not want. Because we know all of the dirt that came out after MJ's death. We all know what R. Kelly was sent to prison for. And we all know what Drake has been accused of multiple times.

Kendrick also alludes to the fact that you have a leak in your circle, Drake.

So Drake drops Family Matters. A scathing 7 minute song that makes fun of the GKMC van. Saying that Kendrick's daughter isn't his. Saying that his wife cheats on him with security. Saying that he beats his wife.

Now, these are enormous accusations levied. But Kendrick has responded before, years ago, that the DV accusations were false. He has also always been open about his faults. Adultery. Sex addiction. Insecurity. God complex. Kendrick, for better or worse, has always laid out nearly every aspect of his younger life on his songs. This also helped by the fact that in both Euphoria and 6:16, Kendrick says that Drake has spent millions on finding dirt on him but came up with nothing. Again, these accusations can still be proven true and if so, Kendrick needs to be held accountable for them.

But if not? Then Drake just adds another to the pile of "He's a liar and a master manipulator."

Drake also posts a Parody on his Insta that gains little to no attention because 30 minutes after dropping Family Matters and supposedly going on his victory lap, Kendrick drops meet the grahams.

Another thing. 6:16's cover was a glove. That meant nothing to us, the audience. meet the grahams makes it make sense by zooming out of the glove and showing off a shirt and drugs that Drake supposedly uses. Drake has not had any receipts with his accusations against Kendrick. Kendrick puts Drake's supposed prescription, his full name, on a bottle of Ozempic. Kendrick, for now, seems to make good on his threat. OvO, Drake's company, is full of leaks. And they're leaking it straight to Kendrick Lamar.

Nearly 24 hours later, Kendrick drops Not Like Us.

Euphoria was a general character dissection and assassination of Drake: Insecure about his identity as a biracial man. Culture Vulture. Blaccent user. Code switcher. Fake abs. Womanizer. Misogynist. Using black features just to feel black enough. A deadbeat dad that knows nothing of raising a child. And even revokes Drake's ability to use the N-Word (I have no stake in that I am Asian so I will keep my brown mouth shut for that).

6:16 in LA was an ominous threat that slowly reveals that Kendrick has insider information on Drake. That he is ready to leak so much more should Drake continue.

meet the grahams is a brutal open letter to Drake, his parents, and even to Adonis, Drake's son. Saying that Kendrick could be a better mentor to Adonis. Saying that Drake abandoned you and that's not your fault. Don't be like your father—whatever anyone says, for better or worse, you are a black man and don't code switch just to make yourself feel better. He says that Drake failed his mother for what he did to women. Saying that Drake's father is the cause of his gambling issues. Drake is a body shamer. Leaving the mother of his children to rot. And of course, the reveal that Drake has a secret daughter, the same way Pusha T revealed Drake has a son. Adonis.

And of course, now. Not Like Us. Where Kendrick goes all in on one topic that he has alluded to in every diss track before. Drake is a groomer. A pedophile.

I am sick. I should not be tuning into this beef. But my fever can go ahead and end me, I need to know how this ends.

[spdrlegacy]

@arxchnoverture: "𝚆𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚎, 𝚌𝚞𝚣." ~from April

⇋ Out of her peripheral vision, the spider had seen the approaching CERULEAN and ebony figure before they had 𝚟𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 made their ( timely deduced ) presence known. She made no perceptible gesture of acknowledgement. But had they came to stand right beside her, they would have heard a small, disappointed sigh. "Well, so much for a night out in the city...by myself," she thought. Really, how quiet did May have to be in sneaking out W̲I̲T̲H̲O̲U̲T̲ April tagging along ? Six-feet-in-the-ground-quiet ? 〈 Yeah, she'd like that, wouldn't she ? 〉Family they were, but a potential dynamic duo was yet to be determined.

---- For once, couldn't she have stayed in repose ? 〈 A better question is...Does she even sleep, like, at all ? The whole seven to eight hours ? 〉Behind reflective lenses, brown eyes cast down to the empty street below for one last observance. No crime to be thwarted even on this side of Manhattan. Although what the other had noted did gave rise to SUSPICION, May wanted to give the other the benefit of the doubt. " If the next words out of your mouth are 'one of us is gonna have to change,' " she started, turning her head to the right as to properly〈 - finally - 〉acknowledge April, " Be my guest, cuz ."

[xerospaced]

Last night I needed to be held so I pulled out my weighted blanket coz it's the closest I can get

Tonight my heart sits heavy in my chest

The need for comfort is increasingly real

And terribly uncomfortable for someone who spends over 90% of their time alone and likes it like that

I don't get most people. I don't understand how to reach the ones I do. And I lack the capacity of seeking comfort with the knowledge of what is appropriate. I also possess an incredibly limited scope of who I am comfortable receiving comfort from and it is typically limited to one or none at any given time.

Currently, there is one. But it is not possible. Were it possible I still don't know that it would be appropriate. Or met. And I lack the confidence and comfortability to ask for it.

So what I need is out of reach by all measures.

I am... surprisingly calm and am experiencing only fleeting moments of short lived teariness

But I NEED something

And the only interpretation I have of what that need is, is warm embrace, face buried in chest, comfortable silence, and warmth

It feels particularly infantile

Because there is nothing to be done

And I...

I don't feel alone but my body does

My body is seeking the tactile attention of things that can not be verbally expressed

[baelabong]

ꜰᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇ

(ɪᴅᴏʟ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ x ᴀᴄᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

plot: being an actress was hard. not the job itself but rather the worry of having to come home to a sulky girlfriend

warnings/notes: jealous mj, lowkey toxic IF YOU SQUINT, male mentioned…..

you’re standing there on the stage, lights flashing from every direction, and the crowd is going wild. you and byeon woo seok, side by side, holding the “couple of the year” award like it’s the most natural thing in the world. the audience is clapping so hard you can barely hear yourself think, but you don’t need to think. you’ve done this a thousand times—smile, pose, play the part.

you shift your weight slightly, leaning into woo seok just enough for the cameras to catch the moment. “we really did it,” you whisper, voice soft enough to be drowned out by the cheers, but he hears you. you’re both used to these little moments by now—playing the perfect couple for the world to see.

“told you we would,” he responds smoothly, flashing that charming grin of his, the one that always makes the fans go crazy. as he pulls you closer, his arm casually wrapping around your waist, you keep the smile up. nothing too over the top, just enough to sell the chemistry the media loves. you both know this game inside out.

then it’s time for the acceptance speech, and you let him take the lead. he starts off with the usual thanks—production team, the director, the fans. he’s good at this, the right mix of serious and charming. when it’s your turn, you step forward, and without missing a beat, you slip into character.

“i honestly don’t know how i got so lucky,” you say, glancing at woo seok like he’s the best thing that ever happened to you. it’s all for the cameras, but the way you say it feels real enough. you’ve got to give the people what they want. woo seok smiles back, playing along effortlessly. “working with him was… a lot of fun,” you add, letting a playful smile tug at your lips. “i guess spending so much time together on set paid off.”

the crowd eats it up. the flashes keep coming, and you can almost hear the headlines writing themselves: perfect couple, on-screen and off.

but then—buzz. you feel your phone vibrate in your clutch. you ignore it at first, focus on the speech, on the cameras, on the thousands of eyes watching your every move. but when the moment comes to step back, you glance down just to check. it’s minjeong. you swipe open the message: congrats on the award… you looked good with him.

great. you try not to let it show, but your smile slips for just a second before you catch yourself. no one else notices—not woo seok, not the crowd—but you know exactly what that text means. minjeong’s watching, and she’s not loving what she’s seeing.

you quickly slip the phone back into your bag, telling yourself you’ll deal with it later. right now, the cameras are still on you, and you’ve got a job to finish. you give woo seok a nudge, and he chuckles, leaning into you a little like the perfect co-star, ever the gentleman.

“we make a good team,” he says, loud enough for the audience to hear, and you nod, keeping the smile plastered on your face.

“the best,” you reply, just as smoothly.

another round of applause, and then you’re making your way off stage, the sound of clapping and cheers following you. woo seok walks beside you, relaxed as ever, but your mind is already drifting elsewhere. you know when you get home, minjeong’s going to have something to say about this, and it won’t just be a “congrats.”

you catch woo seok giving you a sideways glance as you walk off stage together. “everything okay?” he asks quietly, and for a second, you think about telling him what’s going on, but then you just shake your head.

“yeah, just... a long night,” you say, brushing it off. because, really, the last thing you need is for anyone to see behind the curtain.

the applause from the award ceremony is still ringing in your ears as you step onto the red carpet, woo seok beside you like a perfect co-star. the night feels surreal—one of those moments where you’re completely aware that all eyes are on you. the cameras are flashing, and every inch of you is under scrutiny. but you’ve got this. after all, this isn’t your first time handling the spotlight.

your gown is stunning—floor-length, shimmering in the lights, hugging your curves just right. you feel powerful, confident. beside you, woo seok is as charming as ever, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you both pose for the photographers. it’s all part of the act, and you’re good at it. the fans are screaming, holding up signs, calling your name. you give them that practiced smile, tilting your head just enough to give the cameras what they want.

but as you turn slightly, something catches your eye—a group of k-pop idols arriving on the other side of the carpet. aespa. you spot the flashes around them, fans going crazy at the sight of the group. your heart does a little flip, because standing right there, amongst her members, is minjeong.

she looks breathtaking. her icy blonde hair catches the lights just like your gown does, and her sharp, flawless features are impossible to ignore. but it’s her eyes that stop you in your tracks. because she’s not just glancing at you—no, she’s looking right at you. there’s something intense about her gaze, the way her eyes linger on you and then shift slightly, settling on woo seok’s arm, which is still resting casually around your back.

you freeze for a moment, heart racing. it’s not like she’s glaring or anything, but you can tell. there’s something simmering just beneath the surface, hidden behind her unreadable expression. her lips are pressed into a thin line, and even from this distance, you know she’s feeling something. something that probably isn’t good.

your mind starts racing, trying to figure out what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling. jealousy? maybe. frustration? definitely. you’re not sure, but you know it’s not the look of someone who’s loving this public display with woo seok.

you feel woo seok shift beside you, still blissfully unaware of the tension, and he leans in just slightly, giving the cameras another moment to snap. “ready to move on?” he asks, voice light and easy.

you blink, snapping back to the present. you’ve been staring for too long. the cameras are still on you, the crowd is still watching, and you can’t afford to break character. you plaster on that same flawless smile and nod, even though your mind is a mess. “yeah, let’s go,” you say, voice calm and controlled, even though your heart is hammering in your chest.

but as you and woo seok start to move down the carpet, you can’t help but glance back at minjeong one more time. she’s still watching. still standing there, looking like she’s got a million thoughts running through her head. thoughts that probably include how to deal with this whole scene later.

the night feels endless. you and woo seok stop for more photos, answer a few questions from the press, all while the weight of minjeong’s gaze sticks with you. you know she saw everything—the award, the speech, woo seok’s arm around you. and you can’t shake the feeling that when you see her later, there’s going to be something you’ll need to work through.

because as much as you’re putting on a show for everyone else, there’s no hiding from minjeong. she knows you too well.

the set is buzzing, lights hot on your face, the familiar chaotic energy of knowing bros filling the air. you’re seated next to woo seok. you lean back slightly in your chair, trying to shake off the nervous energy that comes with being on a show like this, especially knowing the kind of teasing you're about to get.

heechul, sitting across from you, gives you both a sly grin. “so, y/n,” he begins, dragging out your name, “everyone’s been talking about your chemistry with woo seok. i mean, you two look like you’re glued together half the time. you must be pretty close, huh?”

you smile, already bracing yourself for the wave of jokes that’s coming. "well, we are on set together almost every day," you say, glancing at woo seok. "you kind of have to get along, or it’d be a nightmare."

heechul raises his eyebrows. "oh, so you’re saying it’s all professional? just good co-workers? not even a tiny spark?"

woo seok jumps in before you can answer, smirking. "don’t let her fool you. y/n loves working with me. i bring the charm, the energy, the good vibes. who wouldn’t fall for all that?"

you roll your eyes dramatically. "yeah, okay, keep telling yourself that."

heechul cackles, sensing an opening. "ooooh, here we go. so, y/n, tell us—what’s really going on? rumors are flying, and we’ve gotta know: are you keeping woo seok in the friend zone, or is there something more?"

you can feel woo seok’s gaze on you, that playful look in his eyes, but you’re already used to this. it’s part of the game, part of the act you both put on for the cameras. you smile, shaking your head, starting to get annoyed at the continous attemptat trying to out you "sorry to disappoint, but we’re just friends. really."

"friends?!" heechul repeats dramatically, as if it’s the most shocking news he’s ever heard. "with that kind of chemistry? come on, y/n."

woo seok grins, leaning back in his chair. "see? even he doesn’t believe it."

you smirk, looking at woo seok. "well, maybe it’s because he doesn’t have to spend hours with you between takes, watching you trip over your own feet or forget your lines."

woo seok gasps in mock offense, clutching his chest. "wow. throwing me under the bus again, huh? and here i thought we were close."

you shrug, leaning into the banter. "hey, someone’s gotta keep you humble."

heechul’s eyes gleam as he leans in closer. "okay, so we’ve established that y/n’s not easily impressed, but woo seok, seriously—what’s it like working with the nation’s new sweetheart? you’re telling me there haven’t been any sparks?"

woo seok tilts his head, pretending to think about it, drawing out the silence for dramatic effect. "well… there have been some pretty intense moments on set, if you know what i mean."

you give him a playful shove, laughing. "oh my god, stop. we’re literally just acting."

heechul grins, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "acting, huh? sure doesn’t look like just acting to me. i’m telling you, you two are giving off some serious energy."

the set is alive with laughter, the hosts eating up every second of the playful tension between you and woo seok. it’s fun—easy, even—because you know how to play your part. but in the back of your mind, there's that quiet voice reminding you that someone else is watching. minjeong.

you keep the smile on your face, but the thought lingers. what is she thinking right now?

heechul shifts in his seat, sensing a change in energy. "alright, alright, we’ll let it slide for now, but mark my words—there’s something there. and when you two finally admit it, i’ll be the first to say i told you so."

the cameras cut to a commercial break, and you let out a small breath, relieved to have a moment to yourself. woo seok leans over, grinning. "you okay? you looked like you were about to roast me alive."

you laugh lightly, shaking your head. "nah, just trying to keep you grounded."

he chuckles, leaning back in his chair as the set crew scurries around, preparing for the next segment. but just as you’re about to relax, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. instinctively, you pull it out and glance at the screen.

minjeong:you two looked really good together on screen today.

your stomach tightens. you stare at the message for a second too long, trying to gauge the tone. is she upset? sarcastic? you can never tell with texts like this.

"everything okay?" woo seok asks, noticing the sudden shift in your expression.

you quickly lock your phone, forcing a smile. "yeah, just… you know how it is."

he doesn’t press further, but you can feel his eyes on you as you slip the phone back into your pocket. great. the break ends, and you’re back on camera, smiling, laughing, playing the part like nothing’s wrong.

but minjeong’s message sticks with you. you know her well enough to realize there’s more behind those words than she let on. she’s definitely not happy.

you run through the rest of the show on autopilot, your mind half-present in the playful banter with the hosts, half-worrying about what’s waiting for you after. it’s not like minjeong has ever made a scene about your acting jobs before—she knows what your career involves. but this? the way you and woo seok are being portrayed, the teasing, the on-screen chemistry... it’s different. it’s public.

as soon as the cameras cut for the final time, you say your goodbyes to the hosts and make your way backstage. woo seok follows, still laughing about the last joke heechul made, but your mind is elsewhere. you quickly pull out your phone again, reading the message over and over.

you two looked really good together on screen today.

"are you sure you’re okay?" woo seok asks again, this time more serious, noticing the tension in your shoulders.

"yeah," you reply, your voice a little too light, too forced. "just tired."

he doesn’t push it, thankfully, and you head out, stepping into the cool night air. the ride back to your place feels longer than usual, the city lights passing in a blur. and as soon as you’re alone, you pull out your phone again.

you stare at minjeong’s message for a moment before typing back. thanks. it’s just for the show though, you know that, right?

her response comes almost immediately. sure, i know. just for the show.

but you can feel it, the unspoken tension, the way her words linger on the screen like a challenge. you can already tell that when you see her later, there’s going to be a conversation. maybe more than that.

just for the show. but with minjeong? nothing’s ever that simple.

you step into the apartment, as the door closes behind you, the excitement fizzles out, replaced by a heavy tension hanging in the air.

the apartment, usually warm and inviting, feels different tonight. colder. the soft glow of the tv is the only source of light in the room, casting shadows across the space. you can hear the low murmur of a rerun playing on the screen, and your stomach twists when you realize which one it is—tonight’s episode of knowing bros, the one where you had flirted with woo seok for the cameras, winked at him, laughed a little too easily for the sake of the show. it was all harmless, part of the job. but now, seeing the episode again, you feel the weight of what’s coming.

minjeong is on the couch, her legs stretched out, her lean frame tense, even though she’s pretending to be relaxed. her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, and her sharp jaw is clenched. she doesn’t even glance your way when you enter, her eyes glued to the screen, but you know she heard you. she always hears you. her icy blonde hair, slightly disheveled, falls over her eyes, casting shadows on her already sharp features. the aura surrounding her is unmistakable—minjeong is sulking, and it’s because of what she saw.

you set your bag down quietly, trying not to disturb the tense silence any more than necessary. the weight in your chest grows heavier as you take a few steps toward her. “hey, baby,” you say softly, testing the waters, hoping to break through that wall she’s put up.

“hey,” she mutters back, her voice flat and distant. no glance in your direction, no smile. just the tv, and that damn scene where you’re teasing woo seok playing on a loop.

you watch her for a moment, taking in the stiffness in her posture, the way her knuckles are white from how tightly she’s gripping her arms. usually, she’d pull you in for a hug the second you walked through the door, maybe tease you about how your day went. but not tonight. tonight, she’s locked herself in that stubborn, jealous shell of hers, and getting her out of it is going to take more than a simple apology.

you sit down next to her on the couch, the space between you feeling like miles. minjeong still doesn’t look at you, her eyes glued to the screen as the scene plays out. you can hear your own voice coming through the speakers—flirty, teasing, the kind of voice you use when you’re trying to sell chemistry for the cameras. on screen, you’re laughing with woo seok, winking at him, leaning into the banter like you’re having the time of your life.

you can feel minjeong’s mood shift with every second that passes. the tension radiating off her is almost palpable, and even though she hasn’t said a word about it yet, you know exactly what’s going on in her head. you’ve seen this side of her before—the possessive, quietly brooding minjeong who doesn’t like sharing you with anyone, not even for the sake of work.

“minjeong,” you say softly, leaning in a little closer, testing the waters. “you know it’s just for the cameras, right? it didn’t mean anything.”

she doesn’t respond at first, her gaze still fixed on the tv as your on-screen self giggles at something woo seok says. her jaw tightens, and she lets out a quiet huff. “i know,” she mutters, her voice clipped. “doesn’t mean i liked it.”

you sigh, moving a little closer, until your thigh is pressed against hers. her body is warm, but there’s a chill in the way she’s shutting you out. you reach out hesitantly, placing your hand on her forearm, but she doesn’t relax under your touch. “baby, come on,” you say gently, trying to coax her out of her mood. “it’s just acting. you know you’re the one i come home to.”

finally, minjeong turns her head to look at you, her sharp eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. her expression is a mix of jealousy and frustration, though she’s trying hard to mask it under her usual calm demeanor. “it’s not about that,” she says quietly, her voice rougher than usual. “it’s just… watching you flirt with him like that, hearing everyone laugh like they believe it… i didn’t like it.”

there’s an edge to her voice that makes your heart ache. you know minjeong isn’t the type to voice her insecurities often. she’s always been the confident one, the one who stays cool under pressure. but right now, you can see the cracks in her facade, the vulnerability she tries so hard to hide.

“minjeong,” you whisper, leaning in closer until your faces are only inches apart. “you don’t have to be jealous. it’s just work. you’re the only one i’d ever look at like that for real.”

her eyes narrow slightly, and she huffs again, though this time it’s more out of frustration than anger. “yeah, well,” she mutters, her voice softening just a fraction. “doesn’t mean i want to see you doing it, even if it’s fake.”

before you can respond, minjeong moves, her strong hands finding your waist as she pulls you smoothly into her lap. you let out a surprised gasp, but you don’t resist, settling onto her thighs with your legs straddling her. her hands grip your waist firmly, possessively, as if she needs to physically remind you that you’re hers.

“look at me,” you say softly, cupping her face with both hands, forcing her to meet your gaze. her eyes flicker with something unreadable—frustration, jealousy, maybe even a little insecurity—but you don’t look away. “it’s just us now. no cameras, no acting. just me and you.”

minjeong’s grip tightens slightly, her gaze still intense as she studies your face. “you know i don’t like sharing,” she mutters, her voice low, almost growling. “even if it’s just for show.”

you lean in, pressing your forehead against hers, your lips barely brushing hers as you whisper, “you don’t have to share. i’m all yours. always.”

her breath hitches slightly at your words, and you feel her muscles start to relax under your touch. her hands slide up your sides, her fingers pressing into your skin possessively, and you can feel the last remnants of her frustration melting away.

“damn right, you are,” she mutters, her lips brushing against yours as she speaks.

you smile softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “no more sulking, okay?” you tease, though your voice is gentle.

she huffs, rolling her eyes, but there’s no real bite behind it. “fine,” she mutters, her hands still firmly gripping your waist. “just… don’t do that again.”

you laugh softly, kissing her again, this time on the lips. “only you, baby. i promise.”

minjeong sighs, finally relaxing fully into your embrace, her arms wrapping around you tightly as she pulls you even closer. the tension between you fades completely, replaced by the quiet comfort of being together. you rest your head against her shoulder, feeling her heartbeat slow as she holds you, the weight of her jealousy slipping away.

“you’re so possessive,” you murmur, a smile tugging at your lips as you rest in her arms.

minjeong hums, her voice low and satisfied. “only when it comes to you.”

[kujousgf]

WEST COAST. mdni. 18+.

pairings: older!natasha romanoff + f!maximoff!reader

summary: in which natasha agrees to help with a bake sale and you both stumble into admitting your feelings

warnings: legal age gap (natasha is 43 and reader is 22), pining lesbians, top!natasha, bottom!reader, finger sucking, light dom/sub dynamics, fingering, brief daddy kink

wc: 5.7k

a/n: thank you very much for this request, it gave me brain worms, also this is not proof read so :]

“Come on, Tash, please? Mom said you’d go with me because she’ll be busy with B and T’s school fair.” You practically beg the older woman, holding your cell phone carefully between your cheek and shoulder as you finish mixing up the ingredients for the cupcakes you were baking; it wouldn’t be the first time you dropped it in some cake batter if you weren’t careful. Half of them were for Billy and Tommy’s school fair and the other half were for the bake sale you were helping out with at your university. You had taken it upon yourself to do the baking this year because you knew your mother, Wanda, would be busy with work and getting your younger brothers ready for the fair. They were always very hyper and excitable, it took a lot to round them up. You didn’t really mind though, you did have some extra free time and you always got restless when you truly had nothing to do.

Natasha chuckles on the other end of the phone, “Your mom can say anything she wants, sweetheart. That doesn’t make it true, that just makes her Wanda.” She can practically hear you rolling your eyes as you groan at her response. She’s typing lazily with one hand as the other holds her cellphone, not paying nearly as much attention to her work as she should, especially with the deadlines coming up for this quarter. She can’t help it, though, you rarely call her like this, and when you do she wants to give you as much attention as she possibly can. “Besides, I thought this was something you could handle on your own. You’re a big girl, aren’t you? A little bake sale shouldn’t scare you.”

“Ugh, I’m not scared, you jerk. I just think it would be a little easier if I had someone to help me! And, I want to check out everything else too. I heard the haunted house this year is gonna be amazing! Peter’s working on it with MJ, I just have to go,” you put the phone down on the counter and put it on speaker, not wanting to risk dropping it while you pour the batter into the cupcake tray; that wouldn’t be the first time either. “It won’t be as much fun if I’m by myself, and Kate will be busy trying to make people want to join the archery club. Please? It’ll be so fun, I’ll even give you a cupcake for free.” You try to bargain with her, knowing that she’s always been a fan of your baking since she’s so terrible at it herself.

The bake sale was a part of your university’s fall celebration. Every October, they held a bake sale, a club fair, a haunted house, games and some other things in the week leading up to Halloween. This was your fourth one, and usually, you’d force your friend Kate to help you, but this year she’d agreed to help out with the archery club before you could ask. Not that you minded, because when you brought it up, your mother had absentmindedly suggested that maybe Natasha could help you since she couldn’t, and you would never say no to spending time with the redhead. You don’t know when exactly your schoolgirl crush on your mother’s friend turned into the very real thing it was now. You wouldn’t even say it was a crush because at this point you were certain you were damn near in love with the older woman, but you knew it was something you could never have. So, even as you and Natasha grew closer as you grew older, becoming something akin to friends now that you’ve reached your early twenties, all you could do was cherish the time you got together. 

You can hear Natasha sigh before she responds, “Fine, but you better make it two or I’m leaving before you get to that haunted house.” You’re about to thank her profusely before she speaks again, effectively cutting you off before you even started, “Now, listen, I’d love to stay on the phone with you, but if I’m gonna take the day off tomorrow, I’ve got some work to finish. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” 

You both bid each other goodbye and once you hang up the phone, you smile giddily. Natasha was going to take the day off tomorrow for you. Natasha, who was always busy with work, was going to take the day off so she could help you with your silly fall bake sale. “Oh my God… Oh my God!” You feel like a teenage girl with a crush again, getting so excited over something so simple, but you just can’t help it because you know if anyone else had asked, Natasha would have said no. You check the time to make sure none of your family members would be home soon before you call Kate. You just have to tell her about this. You have to get out all your nervous excitement and giddiness before you see Natasha tomorrow, you’ve always been afraid she could see right through you and your feelings. You didn’t need to be more obvious than usual tomorrow. 

And, yeah, you do make two cupcakes specially for Natasha with red icing because you know it’s her favorite color even though the rest of the icing is orange and black. 

-

Tomorrow comes quicker than both you and Natasha would like. You, because you still don’t know what to wear, and honestly, you’re a little worried Kate might come by and say something stupid. She’s always telling you to just put it out there and let Natasha know how you feel, but you can name at least a thousand reasons why that is the worst idea she’s ever had. Not including when she broke the church’s bell tower by accident when she was a freshman. First and foremost being that Natasha is your mother’s best friend, Natasha is twice your age, and ruining the little platonic relationship that you have with Natasha would hurt you more than when Karolina Dean moved away in the seventh grade when the two of you had what you would now call some sort of situationship. 

And Natasha, because she doesn’t really know why she agreed to do this at all. She really does have work she needs to get done and there’s truly no reason she couldn’t have told you to ask one of your university friends to help you, she knows Kate isn’t your only friend, far from it. Well, the first part of that is a lie– she does know why. She knows exactly why she agreed to help you, she agreed because you asked. What she doesn’t know is what she’s going to do around you today with no one as buffer. No Wanda, no Billy, no Tommy, not even her sister Yelena, it’s just you and her. Sure, there would be other students on campus and coming up to the bake sale table, but in her mind, it’s still just you and her. She doesn’t like when it’s just you and her, because when it is everything feels too real. Suddenly, when it’s just the two of you, there’s no reason for her to hold back. And she knows she needs to hold back, she has to because there’s no world in which you would ever be allowed to be hers. 

You’re holding up different sweaters in the mirror, trying to figure out which looks better with the particular shade of denim you’re wearing, when you hear a knock on your door and your mother walks in. “What’s up?” You turn your head to look at her before turning back to the mirror, still trying to decide. “The one with the brown in it,” she hums, walking over to sit on your bed. She’d always been able to tell just what you were thinking even if you didn’t ask. “You’re overthinking this sweater a lot. Are you sure it’s just Natasha that’s going to be with you today?” You weren’t prepared for her question and your eyes widen just the slightest and you hope she doesn’t notice. “Yeah, just Natasha. Kate’s doing her archery thing, and I think America is helping MJ and Peter with the haunted house.”

“Okay… Well, if there was someone, you know it’s okay for you to tell me, right?”

“Mom!” You groan, she seriously cannot be doing this right now. You’re a grown woman, for god’s sake… but you do appreciate how much she cares for you, you just can’t tell her. Ever.

“Alright, alright! I just wanted you to know. The boys and I are going to be leaving in a few minutes. You should come say goodbye to them, I think they’re going to stay at your father’s tonight...”

You make a noise of agreement, nodding. You know there was a ‘but’ that she wanted to say, but you both knew what it was without her saying it out loud. They were supposed to stay with Vision last weekend too, but that never happened. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.” 

Wanda squeezes your shoulder as she walks past you, and you wait until she’s shut the door before you let your head fall back slightly, staring up at the ceiling. You can’t help but think she’s known for a while, and you feel slightly nauseous at the fact. If she knows, maybe Natasha does too, and that just can’t happen. 

Natasha arrives a few minutes after Wanda and the boys leave, opting to pull into the driveway when she sees the lack of her friend’s minivan in it. She told you she’d pick you up because it made no sense to take two cars and she had to pass your house to get to the university anyway. She takes two seconds before she turns the car off and gets out. She’s too old to be acting like an insecure teenager, she can do this. She’s dressed for the occasion, wanting to fit into the fall theme, wearing a nice knit sweater and a casual pair of pants. 

Her heart squeezes when you open the door and you’re wearing your own knit sweater, she forgot how cute you looked during the fall. “Tasha! I’ll just be a few minutes, I have to get everything packed up and put my shoes on, but then we can go. Come in!” You’re out of her sight as quick as you stepped into it, wanting to get everything done as quickly as possible. You didn’t want to make her wait. 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t make me stand out here the whole time.” Natasha steps inside, wiping any dirt off of the bottom of her boots on the doormat. She’d take them off, but there’s no point if you’ll just be leaving in a few minutes, anyway. Sue her. “Where are those cupcakes I was promised?”

“They’re on the counter, the red ones.” You call out from the kitchen, you weren’t expecting her so early or maybe you’d lost track of time after you said your goodbyes to everyone earlier. It’s a comfortable silence as you move around the room, packing everything up while Natasha eats her cupcakes, offering to help you every few minutes, but you just wave her off. She wouldn’t usually let you do that, but she was enjoying the food, so she’d settle for not letting you bring anything out to the car, she’d do that herself. 

“Okay, done!” You say, proud of how quickly you’d gotten everything done, and turn to look at Natasha only to find her already looking at you. You feel heat rush to your cheeks and you avert your gaze quickly. “I can see that. You put your shoes on and I’ll bring everything out to the car.” She doesn’t phrase it as a question, but you open your mouth to object anyway, only to be interrupted before you can speak, “It’ll be faster this way, won’t it? Go put your shoes on, cupcake.”

The name leaves you grumbling as you huff and walk out of the kitchen, knowing she’s right. Natasha only chuckles before she starts bringing everything out to her car, making sure that nothing is going to accidentally get squished or have their containers tipped over. Once everything is settled, she grabs the latte from the cupholder in the front seat and meets you at your front door as you’re locking it, “This is for you because I know you spent way too long in the kitchen last night.” 

“Non-dairy?”

“Of course.”

“Then thank you.” You take the cup from her, your breath hitching when your fingers brush and bring it up to your lips to take a drink. “Oh my God, this is good.”

“I figured you’d like it. Now, come on, weren’t you the one who said we needed to get there early?”

-

The car ride passes comfortably, with the occasional small talk, but mostly the radio playing quietly in the background while you sip on your latte and Natasha taps against the steering wheel in time with the song. You find that you don’t need to talk to enjoy your time with her, just being with her is enough. Feeling her presence around you is enough for you to feel relaxed and get that warm feeling that only Natasha can give you. When you arrive and Natasha finds somewhere to park, you take a quick scan of the quad. Thankfully, she was able to find close parking, which is a miracle, really. Your eyes light up when you spot Professor Potts standing near an empty table which you can now only assume is for the bake sale. 

“I’ll be right back, I just have to go talk to Professor Potts for a second.” You point behind you with your thumb and then turn to leave. You only take two steps before you’re turning your head to look at Natasha again, “But, actually, since I know you won’t let me help, you can start bringing everything over to the table. I’ll be right next to it.”

Natasha laughs a little under her breath at how quickly you went from ‘you’re not carrying everything yourself, Tasha’ in the car to ‘actually, you do everything’ now that you were actually here. “Yes, Ma’am.” She teases, and you roll your eyes at her before starting to walk over. 

It doesn’t actually take long for Natasha to bring everything over to the table, and by the time she’s done, you’re wrapping up your conversation with Professor Potts– Pepper, as you usually call her. You were just double checking the details of the bake sale and what the prices were supposed to be before you properly set everything up, but you didn’t think Natasha would be particularly interested in that conversation, so you figured she’d be happy enough to bring everything over while you talked. “Oh! Pepper, this is Natasha. Natasha, this is Pepper. She’s one of the professors who helps run the student societies!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Natasha. I didn’t realize Y/N was bringing her partner today.” Pepper smiles and holds her hand out for Natasha to shake. 

“Oh, she’s n–”

“It’s nice to meet you as well. It was a bit of a last minute thing, something about Kate and archery, but I’m sure it’ll be fun.” Natasha shakes Pepper’s hand, mirroring the other woman’s smile. 

“Speaking of Kate and archery, I’m sure you two can manage this just fine on your own, because I have to go find her and make sure that her ‘advertising’ of the archery club doesn’t include any actual arrows this time.” Pepper sighs, and Natasha just laughs like she knows exactly what it’s like to deal with Kate’s antics, before Pepper walks off.

You stare at Natasha wordlessly for a couple of seconds, thinking maybe she’s going to say something about the fact that she just implied the two of you are together, but instead she just raises an eyebrow at you. “Are you going to tell me how you want this table set up or am I just supposed to guess?”

“Oh– no, yeah, I’ll help.” Your cheeks heat up as you start telling her where you want everything placed and start to write the prices on the little chalkboard easel Pepper had put on the table. You quickly forget all about the incident as you start setting things up and your friends stop by the table to talk before going to tend to their own responsibilities. You don’t really pick up on the way they all point out Natasha’s presence, meaning to tease you, but you just tell them happily that she’d agreed to help because Kate couldn’t. 

The rest of the bake sale goes on like this until you run out of things to sell, some people making comments about how good of a pair you and Natasha made or saying something about how they didn’t realize you’d have someone with you here today. You seemed to ignore it, not saying anything about it or giving any indication that it made you uncomfortable, but Natasha was quick to pick up on what the implications were. It didn’t help, she realized, that the color palettes the two of you chose to wear complimented each other so well that it looked a little like your outfits were matching. 

The way in which you acted as if these comments were normal and that you might have expected them or even welcomed them makes Natasha’s brain go haywire. She can’t help but think of all the things this could possibly mean, but the final thought her brain lands on is that she can’t help but wonder if it would be wrong of her to bask in this for just a little bit. She had already not corrected Pepper when she implied you were together– though, that was more so because she didn’t want to embarrass either of you. So would it be so wrong for her to lean into that? To let everyone think you were a couple? To treat you like you were her’s for just a little bit? She doesn’t think so. 

You’re in almost a daze as the rest of the day goes by. Natasha takes you to the haunted house like you wanted and holds your hand the whole time so you don’t get too scared. If you had known Yelena was helping inside the house, you might not have wanted to go so bad. She’s still holding your hand when you exit the haunted house, and she continues to hold it when you talk to Peter and MJ when you spot them outside. She lets go when she gets a phone call and gives you an apologetic smile and excuses herself, but not before giving your hand a little squeeze, and you feel your heart leap in your chest. All of this feels too natural, being with Natasha like this. Holding her hand, laughing with her, walking with her. It’s now when you realize just how close you and Natasha have been all day and you stumble in the middle of your sentence while talking to MJ. 

“You okay there?”

“Yeah!” It comes out too loud and too quickly, “yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired, you know. Long day and late night last night baking.” 

“Mm… Nothing to do with your woman over there?” MJ points not so subtly over at where Natasha is currently talking on the phone.

Your eyes go wide, “She’s not– she’s not my woman, MJ!”

“You’ve been holding hands this whole time and she’s… here instead of at work,” she gives you a look like she doesn’t believe you at all, “seems like your woman to me.”

“Yeah! Mr. Stark only ever takes time away from work if Ms. Potts asks him to and you know how they are, Y/N.” Peter chimes in.

You feel your face go red hot and you groan, “can we please stop talking about this right now?”

“Stop talking about what?” You jump when Natasha suddenly appears beside you and wraps her arm around your waist. 

“Oh, we were just talking about how scared Y/N got in the haunted house.” MJ lies smoothly before giving you a look. 

“Yes, but now we’re done talking about that and we should get back to our table to clean up properly.” You change the subject, trying not to focus on Natasha’s arm wrapped around you, but it’s lighting your body on fire and it’s very hard to focus on anything else. She squeezes your side softly and nods, “sure. It was nice talking to you, MJ, Peter. Good job on the haunted house.”

You barely let Peter get out a “Thanks, Ms. Romanoff!” before you’re slipping out of Natasha’s hold to grab her hand and practically dragging her away from them. She heard the conversation starting from you stuttering over the implication that you’re together, but for you, she can pretend she didn’t hear a thing. So, instead of bringing it up, she gives your hand a soft squeeze. “It’s okay that you were scared, you know? You don’t need to be embarrassed, Yelena can be pretty terrifying when you actually get a look at her.”

“Tasha!” You scold, swatting at her shoulder, “don’t be mean to your sister,” but you can’t help but giggle just a little bit. She only chuckles, and despite the way you’re both struggling to decide whether to bring your feelings up or not, you settle into the comfortable existence you share with each other. 

Before you know it, you’re in Natasha’s car again and on your way to her house. She said she just had a couple of things to do in her home office before she would take you home again, but she would try to be as quick as possible. Technically speaking, your mother should be done with Billy and Tommy’s school fair and you could just ask her to come pick you up, but you don’t tell Natasha that. You would much rather get to spend some extra time with the older woman (and you love the way her house smells) than go home and inevitably spiral as you think about the day and everything that’s happened with her before calling Kate and spilling everything. 

When you get there, she tells you to make yourself comfortable and help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you want to before she disappears into her office at the end of the hall. You settle down on her couch and scroll through your phone for a few minutes before you start to get bored. You consider the fact that Natasha is working on her day off and think that maybe she’d appreciate a coffee, especially if she didn’t have to make it herself, so you stand up and wander into the kitchen. It’s nice and modern, but it has a few personal touches that make it distinctly Natasha. You notice that the coffee maker is right on top of the counter and you look in the cupboard for a mug before you get started on making her coffee. 

You’re pretty sure that the only thing Natasha likes in her coffee is a little bit of sugar, so you take a little look around the pantry until you find some, and when the coffee is ready, you pour it into the mug before adding a little sugar. You hum to yourself and make sure you haven’t spilled anything on the counter, picking up the mug and then starting the path to Natasha’s office. This all feels so natural, that the usual nervousness of doing something like this for the older woman doesn’t even creep in until you actually see her. 

You knock on the door, waiting a second before opening it with your free hand. “Tasha?” You push the door open and Natasha looks up from the paperwork on her desk to greet you with a smile. “You get bored out there, sweetheart?” She puts her glasses up on the top of her head and turns to look at you properly. 

“I. um, made you coffee. I figured you might want some since you weren’t expecting to have to work today.” You walk towards her desk and when you’re close enough, she takes the mug from you and leans up to press a soft kiss to your lips as a sign of her gratitude, “thank you, sweetheart.”

Your brain short circuits.

She almost drops the mug onto the floor. 

You just look at her, frozen, for a few seconds as you watch the wheels turning in her head. She puts the mug down on the desk carefully as she tries to figure out what exactly she’s going to say now. She hadn’t even really thought about it before it happened, it just felt so natural and like something she’s supposed to and allowed to do. But in reality, kissing you has never been any of those things. She’s never done that before even that one time you got so drunk, you practically begged her to. She’s been very careful with her actions and with restraining herself, but now? What does she do now?

“Natasha...” Your voice comes out almost like a whisper and for some reason, you’re a little afraid that she’ll tell you to leave. That she had just been caught in the moment and she would never knowingly kiss you under any other circumstance. 

Natasha opens her mouth to speak, but then she gets a proper look at you standing nervously in front of her and she mutters a ‘fuck it’ under her breath. “Come here, baby.” She pushes her desk chair out slightly and guides you into her lap without any kind of resistance from you. You fidget in her lap, not used to this kind of proximity with the older woman. “I’m gonna kiss you again, alright?”

With those words, it’s like a switch flips and you surge forward to crash your lips against hers. She lets out a little surprised noise before she kisses you back properly, moving her lips against yours and resting her hands on your hips. She lets you lead for a bit until you get a bit too bold for her liking and she grips your hips harder as a warning. She was in charge, not you, and she was going to make that very clear. 

Almost immediately she’s dominating the kiss, and you tangle your fingers in her hair. Her glasses fall off somewhere behind her, but neither of you really care enough to check where. You only pull away because you need to breathe, and when you do, your chest is heaving and you’re a little dazed. Natasha coos and reaches up to cup your cheek, rubbing her thumb against your soft skin. “Do you need a little break, sweetheart, hm? You look a bit flustered.” She teases before swiping her thumb across your bottom lip, and you grumble slightly, “I’m not–” 

Natasha pushes her thumb into your mouth and presses down on your tongue before you can finish, “ah, ah, don’t talk back to me, Y/N,” she scolds, and you whine quietly. You want to bite down on her thumb in retaliation for the use of your actual name, but you know that will only make things worse for you. Not that things are particularly bad right now, you’d probably take anything Natasha gave you, but you’d prefer her cooing over you and doting on you at the moment. 

Instead, you suck softly on her thumb and you know it’s the right decision when she hums in approval. It was almost too easy for the two of you to fall into this rhythm, like you were meant for each other. You both knew exactly what the other wanted and you’d do anything to please her while she’d do anything to keep you happy. Her other hand squeezes softly at your hip before it begins playing with the waistband of your jeans. “We’ve had a long day, huh? You did so well at the bake sale, you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

You nod, looking at her pleadingly and whining softly. Your clothes feel too warm and you want her to touch you, and she’s wearing too many clothes, and you want to touch her, but her thumb is in your mouth and you can’t just push her away. So, you opt for looking like a kicked puppy until she understands what you want. 

“What is it, hm?” Natasha pulls her thumb out of your mouth and you chase after it slightly until you realize that maybe she wants you to actually tell her and you open your mouth to speak. Your breath catches in your throat, though, when her other hand trails down and cups your clothed cunt. “Do you want me to touch you, is that it?”

“Tasha, please.” You whimper. You can barely feel anything through your jeans and it’s already driving you crazy. You just hope she’s not the type to tease. 

“Alright, alright, arms up.” Natasha chuckles and waits for you to follow her instruction before slipping your sweater off over your head. Her eyes darken as she takes in your bra clad chest and she greedily gropes at your breasts for a moment. “So pretty,” she mumbles, leaning in to kiss softly at your neck.

You moan softly and you clutch at her sweater. Natasha’s hands on you feel better than you ever could have imagined, and you’ve spent more time than you care to admit imagining this. She’s not too rough, but she’s not too soft either. She touches you with the perfect amount of force and it makes your head spin. 

Her hands trail down your chest and then your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake, before her fingertips dance across the waistband of your jeans. “You looked so cute today in your little fall outfit. Do you know how hard it was for me to keep my hands to myself?” Natasha pulls back, her skilled fingers now moving to unbutton your jeans. “You make things so hard for me, sweetheart. It’s like you’re trying to torture me.”

“I just like to look nice for you, Tasha. Is that wrong?”

“Up.” She taps your thigh, and you stand so that she can tug your jeans down for you to step out of. Normally, you’d be a lot more shy about undressing like this for the first time, but right now you just can’t seem to care. 

Natasha pulls you back down into her lap and then pulls you in for a kiss. Her hands find purchase on your hips and her tongue finds its way into your mouth, easily gaining dominance over you. You moan into her mouth as your fingers tangle in her hair again, trying to pull her impossibly closer. 

And then finally, after what seems like forever, she slips one hand inside your panties. The gasp you let out when her middle finger ghosts over your slit is like music to her ears, and she pulls away from the kiss so she can see your reactions properly. 

“No teasing, Tasha, please.” You whine, your hands dropping to her shoulders. “Shh, I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.” She slowly begins rubbing circles against your clit and you’re all whimpers and whines as she does. 

She takes her time, using her other hand to tug the cups of your bra under your breasts so she can play with your nipples, pinching them and rolling them between her fingers all while keeping the same steady pace in slow circles around your clit. She basks in the noises she’s able to pull from you even with the lightest of touches. She considers taking you to her bedroom so she can fuck you properly, but she think she wants ot save that for another day. This will have to do for now. 

“Inside, please, Tasha.” You whimper pathetically, hands bunched up in her sweater as you try to be good like she wants you to. She takes pity on you when she pushes two fingers into your drooling hole. She curses under her breath, “God, you’re so wet, sweetheart. Is this all for me, huh?”

You nod, desperately wanting her to move her fingers. “All for you, Tasha.” You attempt to bounce up and down on her fingers, but her free hand moves down and holds you still. “Please, I can’t– mph!” You interrupt your own begging when Natasha begins thrusting her fingers in and out, the angle forcing the heel of her palm to press against your clit. You bite down on your bottom lip to stifle your moans, embarrassed about how loud you’re being already. 

“That’s it, baby.” Natasha breathes, taking in the sight in front of her with eager eyes, “You take my fingers so well, sweetheart.” She praises, curling her fingers inside of you. You reward her with a particularly high pitched moan and you just barely notice the pink tint of her cheeks. It seems she's enjoying this just as much as you are. Something about having you like this drives Natasha wild. Being able to hear your moans and see the expression on your face makes her almost lightheaded with desire. 

“Oh God, Natasha.” You moan loudly when she grinds the heel of her palm against your clit and presses against the sensitive spot inside you at the same time. Natasha coos, and it doesn’t take long with her fucking you like that for you to get close to the edge. “Tash– I’m gonna– Please–” You beg, pleading for something you’re not even sure of. 

“Shh, I’ve got you, sweetheart. Be a good girl for Daddy.”

Natasha’s words tip you over the edge with the help of her skilled fingers and she guides you through your orgasm, letting you ride it out before pulling out her fingers and bringing them up to her mouth. 

“Fuck, I don’t know if I’m done with you just yet. I might have to take you to bed instead of taking you to dinner.”

[sacharinee]

pairing: bf!peter x fem!reader

synopsis: you tend to peter’s needs with your friends down the hall**

w/c: 1k+

warnings: smut! hj + grinding, cursing, sneaky sex?? minors dni X

a/n: this is my first smut so pls bare w me. like two office references. this wasnt meant to be that smutty but here we are. i hope u like it - feedback always appreciated!

peter is really testing your patience.

he’s been restless the entire evening, shifting and fidgeting on the couch with you. he’s tried laying his head on your lap, tried leaning against the arm of the sofa with his heavy legs on top of you, then decided against everything and sat up straight beside you. 

the only thing keeping peter from his ultimate desires was the splatter film rolling on harry’s massive flat screen tv that entertained you and your friends. 

harry and mj are cuddled on the loveseat together, fully engrossed in the movie as ned and betty make comfortable on the makeshift bed scattered on the floor in front of you.

it was peter’s idea to have a movie night with his girlfriend and closest friends, but it certainly wasn’t his idea to have the most unbearable boner, right now, at the worst time possible. 

“this movie is so gross, who chose this bag of ass?” ned quips. 

“i think it was mj, babe” betty whispers.

“yup, it was me.” 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, this movie is amazing,” harry shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth as yet another character screams and dies an excruciating death on the screen.

ned rolls his eyes at him, “you two deserve each other.”

“hey, you know what? if you don’t like it, there’s the door,” the brunette responds, “i don’t know what’s the cause of all this attitude.” 

“it’s be-cause i hate you right now” ned fires back.

“oh, so our entire friendship is a lie, i see how it is.”

“you guys wanna hear another lie?” you chirp, both turning to your attention, “i think you’re both great. seriously. you guys are my best friends and not annoying at all.” 

harry crosses his arms and shakes his head in disbelief, “wow.”

“now shut up and watch the movie.”

your attempts are rendered futile, ned and harry continue to argue while mj watches the gory film with contentment and betty covers her eyes.

your attention turns to peter when he’s tugging on your sleeve. “yes, baby?” you peer down at him with sweet eyes, your pretty face makes his crotch ache. 

he can’t help but look away, “i need help.” he answers your confusion  by bringing your hand down to feel his hard length through his sweatpants.

“are you kidding me, peter?” you whisper. his forehead drops to your shoulder defeated, “i can’t help it, you’re hot when you’re mean, and it really hurts”

peter’s begging makes you feel for him, and you consider your options, “please?”

he’s giving you desperate eyes, and you decide you can’t focus on the movie with your friend’s bickering anyways, so you stand abruptly.

“i’m gonna use the bathroom.”

peter watched you make your way out of the living room, following suit, “m-me too.”

nobody hears or pays attention to the both of you, unaware of the risky events that are to take place down the hall. 

your boyfriend catches you slipping into the nearest bedroom, which he realizes is harry’s. he goes to protest on entering but is dismissed when your soft lips passionately capture his by surprise. peter stumbles to kick the door shut as you bring him closer by his shirt, walking him backward till his leg meets the bed. you’re on top of him, lips sliding over each other as you lay him down.

he feels your hot heat press against his crotch and over his throbbing cock. 

“y/n/n,” peter whines, “holy shit.” his head tips, and his eyes roll back when he feels you grind on his thick length. he grabs your hips, helping you move fervently against him. 

your lips attach to his neck and suck, pleased with your effect on him. peter is so easy to please. you’re glad you wore a skirt tonight, your arousal floods his senses and it’s all he can think about. he’s high on you, and only ever wants to be intoxicated by you. 

“s’it feel good, baby?” peter’s heavy breathing and rushed nod gives you your answer when he fails to give you a more coherent response.

you decide to tease, gently grabbing his hands and bringing them beside him. you push your weight further onto his hard on but move languidly; you enjoy torturing peter.

“god, baby, please.” he’s desperate for more. “what’s that, petey?” 

“i need,” his eyes are screwed tight, he loses his train of thought when you particularly grind on him roughly.

“use your words, pete. you can do it,” you encourage. 

“i- i need more, need to cum.” his raspy whine is what gets you. 

you lift yourself further down a bit, eyes fixated on peter as his eyes follow your hands. you slowly undress his bottoms to reveal his pulsating cock, it’s flushed a bright red, almost painful-like.

you don’t do much right away. you glaze your fingers over his member, tracing the prominent veins that run up and down the shaft.

“y/n,” he begs, “do something.”

your fingers slide to the red tip, circling it. peter shudders against your cool touch. his eyes make contact with yours and he leans up to give you a long tender kiss. your hand wraps around his cock, jerking him off.

peter breaks from your sweet lips, “oh fuck.” 

you don’t pull back from him. his face, centimeters from yours, looks so pretty, clearly entranced by your magic. you’re breathing into each other’s mouth, and his needy hands pull at your bare thighs. he’s desperate to cum after an evening full of uncomfortable fidgeting and hiding his hard-on from everyone. 

he’s lucky to have you, he doesn’t know what he did to deserve an angel sent from heaven, giving him a handjob, in someone else’s bedroom, while his friends are sitting down the hall, unbeknownst to your secret rendezvous. 

he’s panting against you, watching your face while you’re watching his cock, twitching under your hand, ready to spill. it’s almost like he’s asking for your approval. “baby? baby, im- im gonna-”

“yo, parker! y/n! did you get lost on your way to the bath-”

unfortunately, you and peter aren’t quick enough to conceal the mess you’ve made on his very bed when he swings the door open.

“are you fucking shitting me?!” and harry’s running down the hall gagging and clawing at his face.

“oops.” 

“ugh he’s so dramatic. you know how many times i’ve walked in on him-”

“god, my fucking eyes!”

“he’ll be fine.”

“you’re lying again!”

[austinbutlermischief]

I lost track of time… are you going to Graceland tomorrow? Or are you there?? I’m wishing you a wonderful experience!

Love, MJ 💙💙💙💙

MJ!! The time has flown by. I actually leave tomorrow for Memphis. I can't believe it's actually here! I can't wait and you KNOW I'll be sharing everything. Love you MJ! 😍

[bookishjules]

Can I call you Queen Julia?

(Like King Julien )

-🌵✨️

well I do like to move it move it

[magicbystarlight]

Lioness

Sergei Kravinoff (Kraven the Hunter) x Reader

Summary: Your friends drag you to a club on Halloween and you catch the eye of a hunter.

Warnings: 18+, smut, orgasm denial, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, no condom mention, self-deprecation, overall very fluffy. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Yet another work that's mostly self-indulgent, but partially for Lovely 💛

It was loud. Even with the earbuds shoved into your ears to drown out the incessient buzz of conversation, the music still pounded in your bones. And fuck, it was hot. You’d thought the cozy lion jumpsuit would be a better costume than the tight spandex catsuit Felicia had tried to get you to try on.

You sat in the booth watching the club move around you. Gwen had procured it at a discounted rate by promising a table full of pretty girls. Why you’d been included still confused you. At twenty eight to their twenty one, you felt more like a mother than a friend to the girls in your comms class. More often than not they were at your apartment, eating the only home cooked meals they’ll have all week, and enjoying the quiet they can’t get in a dorm. They’d invited you out before, but never as vehemently as tonight.

“If she’s not going, I’m not going,” MJ had declared, throwing her feet up on your coffee table. Most likely a lie, you realized now as she danced in her non-costume costume with a wide grin. But it worked. Because here you were.

Your focus shifted to each of the girls, checking they were all alright. Felicia was dancing with MJ in the catsuit she’d tried to get you in. Gwen in a some seventies aesthetic she claimed made her Stevie Nicks was at the bar talking to some guy you recognized from campus. You’d kept count of all their drinks and so far they seemed reasonably buzzed. But it was Halloween and the creeps were out in droves.

Your gaze drifted to the rest of the patrons standing at the bar. There’s more skin than fabric. One man in particular wore some cheesy jungle getup with only an open vest lined with a faux lion’s mane and a tooth necklace to cover his torso. Not that you blamed him. With a body like that…

Heat bloomed across your face as you realized he was watching you as well. Your attention fell to the table. God that was embarrassing. The rum and coke you’d ordered when you first set down was more water than anything, but it gave you something to fiddle with. It wasn’t enough to hold your attention for long. You looked for the girls again, finding them exactly where they had been a few minutes before. And finding the man gone.

You let out a laugh. You were being ridiculous. He probably wasn’t even looking at you. Who would? You sighed and leaned forward to put your empty glass on the table.

A shadow moved in the corner of your vision that made you jump. The man stood at the edge of the booth, smile playing on his lips. They moved but you couldn’t hear anything. Oh! Right. You pulled out the buds. He said something else, but you still couldn’t hear him. The loud beat drowned him out.

He gestured to the booth in a silent request. You nodded and moved over, biting your lip. He took a seat. His frame dwarfed the bench. And you. An arm stretched behind you. He leaned in, the smell of sweat and cologne drifting over you, beard scratching your ear. “Your costume is inaccurate,” he said with a voice like honey. Warm, rich, and sweet. Something tugged at the hood you’d pushed back. “A lioness does not have a mane.”

Something in you deflated. That’s why he’d come over? To mock your costume? As if you weren’t embarrassed enough. “I’m aware, thanks.”

His hearing was better than yours. A puff of air hit your ear. “Retract the claws, little lioness. I only meant to start a conversation.”

You’re saved from responding by the bottle girl, Amber you think, stopping by. She had a new rum and coke and two shots of a clear liquid. “I didn’t order this,” you tried to shout as she took your empty glass. She pointed across the table. At the man. Right. He stretched out his hand, a bill between two fingers. From the blue tint you’d guess a hundred. She disappeared a moment later.

"Let us start, again, yes? I am Sergei." He picked up the shot glasses and offered one to you. "Though I often go by Kraven."

"I don't really like to drink much."

"Neither do I."

He moved back and you stared confused as he downed one of the shots. He again offered the other. You took it, bringing it to your nose. There was no discerable smell. You took a sip. "It's water?"

Sergei laughed. "A hunt is no fun when the game is tranquilized."

It took a second before it clicked. "Ah. Hunter," you pointed to him, "lion," you pointed to yourself. "Clever."

“So,” he began, plucking the shot glass from your hand, and tipping it down his own throat, “why are you here tonight if not to drink or dance?”

“Who says I’m not here to dance?”

He nodded towards the floor where Gwen had joined MJ and Felicia. “If you wished to dance, you’d have joined your companions.”

You started to explain that it was them who had dragged you out here despite your protests, but stopped. “How did you know that?”

“Hunter,” he touched his bare chest, “lion,” his fingers caught your chin. “A good hunter always observes his prey before he makes his first move.” He was really into the whole hunter persona he’d crafted. Maybe he was an actor. Or one of those cosplayers. Either way you didn’t think it’d be quite so alluring if he weren’t so attractive. He leaned in again, that same scratch of beard against your ear. "Would it be to forward to mention how much I'm looking forward to having your pelt on my floor tonight?"

He couldn't be serious. You weren't ugly, but you were wearing some silly pajama-like jumpsuit and nearing thirty. There were several dozen younger and prettier options he could take home tonight. Ones who could match the aesthetic of his six pack. A quick glance around and you could see a sexy lion and tiger and bear. "Is this a joke?" Your gaze returned to him, trying to calm the quickening pace of your heart. "Some bet with your buddies?"

He head cocked to the side and released you, brows furrowed. "A joke? Why would I joke?"

"Why would you want me?"

"Why would I not?" Your mind raced to come up with a response, but Sergei continued, "You are a beautiful woman. I have not been able to tear my eyes from you all night." He brought a hand up and ran a finger down your jaw. "I am a simple man. I see something I want and I pursue." A flush crept up your neck. It's hard to ignore the hunger in his eyes. They bore into you, dark and earnest.

"You're serious?"

He took your hand and held it against his chest. His heart beat out of sync with the music. “There is nothing I desire more than to ravage you tonight.”

A shiver ran down your spine. Your gaze fell from his eyes to your joined hands to the muscles glistening beneath to the bulge in his—

You diverted your eyes back to the dance floor. None of the girls were there. For a moment he was forgotten. Worry replaced whatever feelings he stirred. Where were they? Did they leave you behind? Wouldn't Gwen have told you? You'd seen her only moments ago.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back to the moment. Sergei was staring at you. He said something. Damn music was too loud. You leaned in, gesturing for him to repeat himself.

"Where has your attention gone, little lioness?" He sounded amused.

"I can’t see my friends."

His chest rumbled. “They are by the bar.”

You turned your head. Sure enough they were sitting at the bar. Watching you. Gwen held her thumbs up and Felicia mouthed, “Oh my god.”

It seems they approve.” Your heart fluttered. The way he was looking at you, the way his fingers had begun to stroke the back of your neck, the heat rolling off him in waves, it all left you breathless. “Perhaps we should get some air? I have a place not far from here. A little quieter, no?”

Your gaze flicked between his lips and his eyes. Was this really happening? Was a man who looked like a Greek God about to invite you back to his place? Your eyes dropped to the tenting of his pants. Oh yes. He was. "Okay."

"Good." He rose and offered a hand.

The crisp air outside did little to cool your thoughts. The girls had been all smiles and wiggling brows as you made excuses for your exit. Felicia had pulled you into a tight hug and whispered, "That man’s going to wreck your pussy."

Sergei's place wasn't far, as promised. But you wouldn't be able to tell anyone how you got there. Terribly stupid, but allyou were aware of as you strolled through the crowded downtown streets was the firm grip of Sergei's hand and the warmth of his body beside yours. A ridiculously long elevator ride later and you were at his door.

"You've been quiet." The lock clicked after he punched a code in on his door. “Are you nervous, little lioness?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

The door opened. Sergei motioned you inside. You stepped into the darkness. The silence was deafening after the constant drone of music and busy streets. A click and the lights flickered on. The first thing you noticed was how normal the apartment was. Well, not normal. Rich. A bit old fashioned. But you half expected to see game heads on the wall and fur rugs. But the only thing that seemed to hint at such a thing a glass case holding an old style rifle.

Thick, muscled arms wrapped around your waist, dragging you back against the solid mass of a man. Your breath caught. His lips found your neck. "Are you saying I am your first?"

"Not first, but," you bit your lip, "first one I've followed home."

"I'm honored," he rumbled. Teeth nipped at the tender flesh below your ear, tongue tracing the shell. A shiver ran down your spine, heat settling between your legs. A hand roamed up, over your breast, and settled on the zipper on your chest. "May I?"

You nodded, a breathy, "Yes," leaving your lips.

His fingers toyed with the pull and slowly drew it down. Breathe fanning across your neck, he peeled it off your shoulders and down your arms. A trail of goosebumps followed his hands. The jumpsuit pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but the silly lingere Gwen had made you buy during a drunken late night study session.

"You are stunning." Sergei spun you around, his hands trailing down your sides, and resting on your hips. "My little lioness."

"Sergei," you breathed, hands gripping the front of his vest.

"Do not be shy." His lips brushed over yours. "Touch me. Kiss me. Claw me. Do what you will."

Your hands slid up his bare chest and locked behind his neck. His mouth covered yours in hungry kiss. Heat exploded within you. Desire you'd thought lost to youth roared. Raw, unbridled desire. He kissed you until the need for air became too great. Your lips broke apart. Your lungs burned. Sergei wasn't as bad off, his chest rising and falling evenly.

He smiled down at you, eyes bright, and stroked your cheek. "Breathtaking."

Your stomach fluttered. His words, the way his hand had moved from your cheek to rest against your pounding heart, the heat and hardness pressing into your soft belly. How was this happening to you? A man like this couldn't want you. Could he?

"Sergei, I—"

He pressed a finger to your lips. "You are still thinking this is all in jest."

"I'm—"

"A gorgeous woman," he said, pressing his forehead against yours, "who I wish to ravage until the sun rises."

You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped.

"You doubt my intentions," Sergei murmured. "Do you think I will leave you unsatisfied?" He rolled his hips into you, cock straining against the fabric.

"No."

"No?"

"Of course not, that's not what-"

"That is right." His hand found your ass and squeezed, fingers teasing at the lacy thong. "So, allow me to please you."

Your fingers twisted in his mane. "Okay."

In one smooth motion, he hooked an arm under your legs and swept you off the floor. You gasped, clinging to his broad shoulders. "What are you doing?"

"Taking my prize," he growled. He carried you through the living room and past the kitchen, your shoes lost somewhere in between. In the next breath he was kicking in a door. The bedroom. The lights flipped on and the bed came into focus. Your gaze flicked around. A bookshelf. Closet. A chair. And then, finally, the mirror. You stared, wide eyed, at the two of you. He placed a kiss against your temple and strode to the bed, setting you on the sheets. He shrugged off the vest, revealing his and kicked off his shoes. Your thighs pressed together.

Your hand reached forward. Fingertips grazed his abs. "Wow," you murmured, eyes following the trail of hair disappearing into his waistband.

"Does it please you, little lioness?"

You nodded and let your fingers drift to the button of his pants. You paused and looked to his face. "Is this okay?"

Sergei chuckled and cupped your cheek. "Of course."

You popped open the button with shaking hands. Your heart was pounding in your ears. You dragged the zipper down. Sergei's hands moved to his belt, tugging the leather free. A few tugs and his pants slid to the floor. His erection strained against the fabric of his boxers.

He pushed them down and kicked them aside. Your breath caught. He was huge. It must be against some law of nature for a man to look that good and be that big.

You reached for him and stroked. He groaned and leaned into the touch. Again, thumb running over the head.

"Enough of that." He'd pulled out of your grip, leaving the memory of his heat blazing your blame. "I want to taste you." He fell to his knees, dragging you further to the edge.

He bit into your thigh, soothing the sting with a kiss. Up and down he went on both, only allowing his nose to brush across your mound.

With a bit of help, he dragged down the lace and discarded them across the room. He purred, "What a pretty pussy."

He buried his head between your thighs, his tongue finding your clit with ease. You jerked away from the sensation. No man had found it before. They'd licked around for a minute and move on. Sergei swirled his tongue around it and you tried to pull away again. He growled, wrapping his thick arms around your thighs and dragging you back.

The tip of his tongue ran across it, teasing the sensitive bud. Your back felt to the bed, arching and gasping. He growled again, lapping at you. Your nails dug into his shoulders. Your hips ground against his, pushing his tongue harder against your clit.

"On my god," you gasped your body quivered.

It was so much so quick. The tension in your stomach grew. It was going to snap. You were going to fall apart. "I'm going to-"

He pulled away.

You whined and tried to tug him back. "I was so close."

"I know, little lioness." His tongue grazed over the clit. "But tonight you are only allowed to cum on my cock, yes?"

You whimpered. That wasn’t fair.

"Yes?" He asked again, sucking your clit between his lips.

"Ah!" Your back arched, but his arms didn't allow you to move far. "Y-yes!"

"Good girl." His beard tickled as his head dipped lower. A moan fell from your lips as his tongue entered you.

He continued, licking and sucking and fucking with his tongue until you were a quivering mess beneath him, once more on the edge. And then he pulled away. One of his arms released a leg. Your bra was tossed aside and a hand trailed down your stomach and through your folds spreading your wetness, before his thick fingers pushed into you. You groaned, hips bucking. It was slow to pump in and out, dulling the climax that had been so close but not allowing it to fade.

Sergei added another finger, scissoring them inside. His thumb rubbed your clit in gentle, but sporadic circles. He was torturing you, teasing the edge but never letting you fall over.

"Please fuck me.” You begged.

"As the lioness wishes."

The delirium he’d left you in made his actions seem like a blur. One moment your one the edge of the bed, him kneeling in front of you, and the next your somewhere in the middle, his body hovering just above, the head of his cock poking between your spread legs.

You reached up and gripped his back, holding tight. His cock slid along the lips of your pussy, coating the head with you. "Please," you pleaded.

His cock pushed in a single fluid motion. Without resistance or pain. Not even discomfort. “A perfect fit,” he said before capturing your lips.

You moaned against his mouth as he began an unrelenting pace. A hand slipped under your neck, the other holding your hip in a bruising grip. Every thrust sent you further into a blissful haze. You babbled, incoherent. Begging and praising. Your nails trailed down his back, trying to anchor yourself.

His rhythm faltered. He pulled away, panting. His face was flushed, beads of sweat rolled down his temple, pupils blown. "Turn over."

"What?"

He pulled out, cock bobbing, and gripped your hips. He rolled you over. "On your knees."

He slid back into you with ease. A groan filled the room. Yours? His? He was hitting a spot that had the coil in your belly tightening. "Fuck, Sergei, I—"

"Go ahead."

You fell forward, face pressed into the blankets, back arched, and came. Stars danced behind your eyelids. You clenched around him.

He leaned over you, lips on your back. "Good girl."

He didn't give you a chance to catch your breath as the high slipped away. His fingers found their way to your clit.

"S-sergei," you whined.

"Again."

He didn't relent. Didn't slow. Kept you there, trapped beneath him, writhing. Tears gathered at the corner of your eyes. "P-please."

"Again."

You shook your head.

"Again, little lioness."

"I can't," you sobbed. A lie. You felt the wave gathering in the horizon.

"You can."

"Sergei," you cried.

He buried himself deep. His lips pressed against the shell of your ear. "Again."

You came again. A choked moan tore from your throat. Every atom felt as if it had exploded with you.

His teeth grazed over your skin. His voice, rough and deep, murmured, "Such a good girl."

A whine escaped you. His fingers had not stopped.

"Again."

"Sergei—"

He growled. His arm hooked around your chest, pulling you up. Your back flush against his chest, he moved again. The angle hit a new spot making you writhe and moan and beg.

"So good," he murmured. His other hand slid to your breast. His thumb brushed over your nipple, rolling and tugging and pinching.

"S-sergei. P-please."

"Once more."

"No."

"For me," he purred. “I must feel you once more.”

You shook your head, trying to fight it.

"I know you can."

You whimpered, a few stray tears leaking from your eyes. White filled your vision. Your whole body trembled, muscles twitching. You weren't sure what was worse-better. The torturous, slow build or this overwhelming pleasure that had you on the verge of seeing god.

The coil snapped. Your head fell back, a loud cry of his name escaping your lips.

"That's my lioness," Sergei growled. His hand fell from your breast, snaking between your bodies. "Cum with me."

His thrusts grew erratic. A string of foreign words left his lips. His fingers circled your clit, extending your climax with his. Your muscles tensed, a final cry of his name falling from your lips. Sergei cursed, the last of his spend filling you.

He dropped, the weight of him pinning you down. The smell of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air. His heart pounded against your back.

His cock pulsed inside you. For a while the only sound was your shared labored breaths.

You clenched as his lips met the junction of your neck and shoulder, his own hips jerking from the overstimulation on his softening cock.

"Sorry," you said.

"I am not." He kissed your jaw and slid out, a flood of warmth dripping down your leg.

"Fuck."

He rolled off and the bed dipped beside you.

You turned your head to watch as he splayed out across the it. One arm propped under his head, the other stretched out beside him. You let your eyes follow the trail of hair to his spent cock.

"I must apologize, little lioness, for ending the hunt so soon. I normally last much longer, but you felt far too good."

"Oh," was all you could think to say.

His laugh rumbled. "Do not be embarrassed. Your pleasure is a gift. I intend to treasure it."

You sat up, wincing. You were going to be sore tomorrow. But that was tomorrow. Tonight was a dream. And what a wonderful dream it was. You swung your legs over the side.

"Where are you going?" Sergei asked, sitting up.

"To get cleaned up and grab my costume."

"You wish to leave?"

You stood on shaky legs. "I should get back to my apartment before it gets too late."

"It is already late," Sergei said, taking your wrist. He nodded to the clock on his nightstand. How on earth was it already nearly four? It had only been a little past midnight when you’d left the club. "You'll stay here tonight. I want to make you breakfast."

Your brows rose.

"Unless you do not want to?"

You looked at him, eyes roaming over the muscles that seemed impossible for anyone to maintain. The handsome features of a man who could have anyone he wanted. And he’d wanted you. Why not let the dream last a bit longer?

“Come,” he said, patting the he’d beside him. “Lay with me.”

You joined him and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. His nose pressed against your hair, inhaling deeply. "I think this has been my most successful hunt."

You laughed, a yawn interrupting. Maybe he’d drop the persona in the morning.

His lips met yours in a lazy kiss, the scratch of his beard leaving you warm. You sighed against him and relaxed, listening as his heart began to beat in time with yours. "Sleep, little lioness."

“But the mess?”

“Tomorrow’s worry. Sleep not. I have exhausted you.”

You didn’t argue and nuzzled further I to him. "Night."

"Sweet dreams."

Other New Fics:

A Lady and Her Knight (Gwayne Hightower x Reader)

Favorite Dress (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)