#nat imagine

[whytheylosttheirminds]

snooze - r.c.

(season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader blurb, 4.1k words)

summary Your man works harder than anyone you know, and you couldn’t love him more for it, but some mornings you just want to hold on to him a little longer…

content fluff/smut, mutual mast., p in v, 18+ minors do not interact

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Rafe’s alarm rings through the large bedroom like a blaring siren, jerking you violently from the sweet sleep you were just wrapped in. He doesn’t hear it at first, still sound asleep next to you, snores rumbling through his bare chest.

You blink your eyes open, the room is still dark, though the first golden rays of the sunrise creep in through the small crack in the curtains. You twist your body towards Rafe, snuggling your head into his neck, an attempt to both shield your eyes from the sunlight and get his attention, desperate for him to silence the loud alarm.

After a few seconds, he still hasn’t heard it, so you reach up and gently tap his cheek.

“Baby,” you groan, cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Too loud.” 

Rafe takes a deep breath in, eyes still closed as he reaches his bedside table, tapping his phone screen clumsily until the sound subsides.

He settles back in, placing a quick kiss onto the top of your head as he pulls you into his side. You sigh happily, running your nails softly up and down his chest and stomach, drawing little hearts and stars on his skin. He shivers when you graze over the soft skin of his lower stomach, following his happy trail down to his waistband. You fully plan on dipping your hand below it, where he’s already twitching and firming up for you under his sweatpants, but you get distracted by the delicious deep V lines on either side of his waist. You dip your pointer finger into the valley of muscle and trace the shape down, switching to the other side and drawing back up.

He stirs when you angle your finger to scratch lightly with your manicured nail, lingering just above the band of his Calvins that peeks out from his sweats.

“That’s so nice, baby,” he mumbles in his deep, crackling morning voice, “I love these hands.”

Rafe laces his fingers in yours with one hand, his other arm sliding under your neck and wrapping around your shoulders. He pulls you close so he can drop a sloppy kiss on your temple.

You sigh and lift your intertwined hands to place a kiss on each of his knuckles.

“Maybe you should stay home,” you suggest between kisses. “Then you can enjoy these hands all day long.”

He smiles knowingly, still not opening his eyes. You play this game every morning, trying to find ways to convince him to play hooky from work, though they never succeed. He’s always showered and out the door by sunrise, leaving you with a cup of coffee on your nightstand and a quick kiss as you drift back to sleep.

“Sounds perfect, but I have an 8 a.m. with a potential investor,” he explains.

In the quiet, Rafe starts to drift off again. You continue to stroke his chest and think of all the many enticing reasons for him to stay, but before you can list them for him, his alarm blares from his phone again. 

You lean over him, reaching to the phone on his nightstand. He takes the opportunity to snake his hand around your waist and slide it under his big t-shirt you're wearing. His hands feel so nice on your lower back, you pause, almost forgetting what you were reaching for in the first place, until the alarm rings out again, making you both wince with its volume. You tap the screen desperately until it’s silenced.

“Just hitting snooze so we can have five more minutes,” you say, settling down over him and resting your cheek on his chest.

“Liar,” he says with a sleepy smirk. “You turned it off.”

You fake an offended gasp, “I can’t believe you’re accusing me of such deception, Rafe Cameron.”

“So when five minutes go by and the alarm doesn’t go off again, what are you gonna say then?”

“I was hoping you’d fall back to sleep by then,” you confess with a giggle, laying a soft kiss on his chest, right over his heart.

“I knew it.”

He sits up in bed, causing you to fall back onto the pillows, immediately missing his warmth. You paw at his arm as he reaches over to check the time on his phone.

“Nooo,” you whine. “Don’t go yet.”

He smiles down at you, leaning over to place loving kisses on the edge of your jaw and up your face, touching his lips to your temple one final time before standing from the bed.

Your vision is still fuzzy from sleep and the darkness of the room, but you follow the general shape of him as he walks to the wall of windows on the other side of the room. He’s shirtless, the lower half of his body covered in soft gray sweats. You squirm a little under the comforter as you take him in. You didn’t know it was possible to be this attracted to someone, but it’s like every day you’re with him, your body craves him more, and it makes it that much more painful when he leaves.

Rafe interrupts your reverie by lifting his arms and throwing the curtains wide open. You flinch at the bright sunlight that pours through the windows like it’s burning you.

“Too bright, Rafe!” You protest. 

He just turns with a smug smile, his tall silhouette casting a shadow over the bed, blocking you from the blinding sun.

“I’ll make you some coffee before I go,” he promises as he leaves you alone in the bedroom, pulling a pillow over your face to shield yourself from the daylight.

It’s silly to complain when his hard work is the whole reason you can lay in this comfortable bed so late into the morning. When he’s not with you, he’s at the office, earning you all this comfort, but it still seems unfair when you want him this badly.

You used to be an early riser, but the way he lays you down every night when he gets home, fucking you hard and slow until you fall asleep clinging to him, it’s made you a whole new person. You’d pay him twice his salary if you had it just to get him to stick around a little longer, make you feel that good again.

A devious idea comes to your brain, and you pull the covers from yourself quickly, making fast moves before he gets back.

When Rafe comes back into the room a few minutes later, he nearly spills your hot coffee all over himself at the sight that greets him.

The comforter is bundled at the end of the bed, nothing covering your body as you stretch out on the mattress. You’ve switched out his t-shirt and your baggy sweats for a silky pair of boy-short panties and a lacy bra. You're facing away from him, laying on your side, the curve of your hips and peekaboo view of your ass casting a scandalous shadow on the wall. The fabric of your panties is so flimsy, it climbs up the curve of your ass, revealing you to him as if they’re barely there at all.

“Nice try,” he shakes his head, though the small crack in his voice betrays his defiance. You know you’ve got him hard and frazzled.

“Hmmm?” You don’t turn to look at him, instead bending your knee and sliding one leg up higher to give him an even better angle of your ass. 

“It’s not gonna work…” he insists, setting your coffee down, fully intending to turn and make his way to the walk-in closet to get dressed, yet somehow finding himself completely immobile.

“What’s not going to work?” You echo, feigning cluelessness in a way you know is gonna drive him mad.

“I really do have a meeting,” he continues his one-sided argument, trying desperately to convince himself. “I can’t be late, it’s important.”

“Okay! Have a good day, baby,” you yawn, shifting on the sheets as if you’re just getting comfortable, hoping he doesn’t see the smile you’re hiding in your pillow, obsessed with the strain in his voice that reveals his resolve is cracking.

The mattress sinks slowly under his weight, and you can feel the heat of him before he even touches your skin. His hand slides up your leg, from your ankle all the way up to your thigh, where he pauses to squeeze your flesh. 

“You’re gonna be late,” you let your mouth twist into a cheeky smile. 

He huffs a defeated laugh, letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder in frustration, “you’re killing me.”

“I’m not doing anything!” You giggle, arching your back and giving him a better glimpse at the other side of you, your nipples already pebbling in anticipation, clearly visible through your see through bra.

Rafe responds by saying your name, so low and needy it’s almost inaudible. You twist your torso just enough to meet his eyes, blinking at him sweetly through your eyelashes.

“Yes?”

He doesn’t respond with words, just a piercing gaze. His blue eyes are blown wide with lust as he takes you in, dragging over your body helplessly, fighting an internal battle as he plots his next move. Filthy thoughts are etched on his face, you know him well enough by now to see the gears turn behind his eyes, imagining all the things he could do to you if he stayed.

“Can I at least have a kiss before you go?” You ask, hoping the taste of your lips will tip the scales in your favor.

He can’t deny you a kiss, he never does, so he leans in and meets your lips with a nod, his hand rising to softly cradle your jaw. You run your tongue so gently across his lower lip that he wonders if he imagined it. When you part your lips for him and release a small sigh, the game is over.

With another squeeze of your thigh, he pulls back from you just enough to reach his phone on the nightstand. You watch with a victorious grin as he types out a quick message, surely to his secretary, and tosses the phone somewhere on the bed. 

“Bought us an hour,” he tells you.

“Only an hour?” You pout.

“Don’t be greedy,” he teases you, shuffling behind you so he can spoon you, placing a dozen quick kisses up your arm, making you giggle in delight.

Rafe’s hand slides from your thigh to your waist, dipping to splay over your stomach so he can pull you flush against him. You sigh dreamily as he begins to suckle on your neck, leaving little pink marks everywhere his lips touch.

“Wasn’t that kind of an important meeting?” You ask, feeling a little guilty for potentially making him miss out on a good opportunity.

“Nothing’s more important than this,” he assures you.

You let out a little whimper at his sweet words, igniting a fire in him. His hand drifts up your stomach until his palm is settled over your breast, kneading gently. 

“Oh,” you gasp. “That feels good.” 

“Yeah?” He drawls with a crooked grin, pausing to drag the tip of his tongue over the shell of your ear, making you shiver. “Just needed a little attention today?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Needed you.”

His hand leaves you for a minute to fiddle with the clasp of your bra. You lift your arms up so he can slide it off and toss it somewhere on the floor of the massive master suite.

The rough skin of his palm comes back to rest over your hard nipple, the sensation is so sweet that your whole body hums with pleasure. 

“God you’re so soft,” he breathes over the wet spot he’s just left on your skin, “love these tits so much.”

With that confession, he pinches your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, the pain lasting only a second before he smoothes it over with the pad of his thumb.

“Rafe!” You squeak out at the sting.

He shushes you gently, lowering his mouth to pull your earlobe between his teeth, the pressure strong, but not strong enough to pull your mind from the way his hand is dropping lower on your torso towards your panties. A pool of silky arousal gathered between your legs, you rub your thighs together in search of friction as his hand continues to move maddeningly slow.

“Don’t worry baby,” he coos, “gonna take good care of you like I always do.”

Your fingernails dig into the sheets in preparation when he finally reaches the band of your panties, lifting them to slide his hand in.

“You always take such good care of me, Rafe,” you agree.

He places his other arm under your head for support, allowing you to look down at the outline of his big hand wriggling under the damp cloth of your panties. His fingers find your entrance easily, pausing outside to swirl in your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he praises. “Always so ready for me.”

After a few more swirls, he’s satisfied with the coating, dragging his fingers back up to your clit. He hits it right away, he could find it in a hurricane. He runs his fingers over you at the perfect angle, starting with delicate figure eights.

Your head falls forward in ecstasy, unable to form words. Rafe bends his arm at the elbow, laying his hand flat against your forehead to pull your head back into his chest, your neck arching with the stretch. The pink spots he’s left on your exposed throat have darkened nicely, giving him a chance to appreciate his handiwork. He reattaches his lips, desperate to claim you as many times as he can, hungry for you.

The sweetest, breathiest moans fall from your puffy lips, and he basks in them like the sunlight that’s bleeding through the curtains. He’s nibbling on your shoulder like it’s his breakfast as his fingers pick up speed on your clit. 

Between circles and flicks, he stops to tap quickly with the tip of his middle finger, the rhythmic pressure and release has the sensitive bud pulsing. You chase his fingers pathetically with the roll of your hips, needing more.  

As you writhe, his cloth covered cock slots between the valley of your ass, each wave of your hips grinding perfectly against his shaft. You shut your eyes tight, picturing his perfect length and the gorgeous noises he makes when he comes. You need to hear those sounds like you need air.

Your hand releases from the sheets, reaching behind you to rub the hard ridge of his dick over his sweatpants. Rafe clenches his jaw, a throaty groan vibrating through his chest and straight into your body. 

“This what you wanted, angel?” He asks, his tone dominant and desperate all at the same time. The perfect balance of ownership and a genuine urgency to please you.

“Just wanted you,” you confirm through labored pants, grinding yourself into his hand, “all I ever want is you.”

“Oh yeah? Show me.”

No further instruction needed, your hand finally dips below his waistband, immediately finding his pulsing cock. 

“Shi-ii-t,” he shudders as you wrap your fingers around him, stroking slowly and reveling in how hard you’ve made him.

You notice goosebumps rush up the arm that’s disappearing into your panties, you realize your hands must be cold. You know he’d never complain, but you don’t just want him to feel good, you want him to feel as amazing as he makes you feel.

You draw your hand back from his boxers, and he groans at your absence, nearly protesting until he sees what you’re doing. You dip your hand into your underwear, gently nudging his out of the way, and collect some of your wetness onto your own fingers. Your hand glistens in the morning sunlight when you pull it out, displaying it for him before returning your grip to his cock.

He’s speechless. Eyes rolling back at how fucking sexy that was, desperate to ground himself before he comes too quickly in your hand. He moves his palm down from your forehead to cup your throat, not too much pressure to hurt, but enough to remind you how strong he is. You whimper, swallowing hard under his broad palm.

“Jesus christ, baby,” he sputters, “you’re my fucking dream girl.” 

You fall in sync, Rafe rubbing tight, firm circles over your clit, while you slide your hand up and down his shaft, pausing at the tip with each stroke to swirl your thumb in the precum he’s leaking. His knuckles flex in response to each flick of your thumb, pads of his fingers holding and releasing your neck in steady pulses. 

You squeeze his cock as he squeezes your throat, so perfectly aligned in your drunken pleasure that you both chuckle at how unbelievable it feels. But if you’re laughing, then surely he’s not doing a good enough job.  

He draws your clit between his fingers, rolling over and over, not pinching too hard, but just hard enough to set every nerve ending in your body on fire. You draw your knees up, your hand slowing involuntarily on his cock as you feel the familiar coil tighten in your tummy, seconds from snapping.

“I can’t believe you’re real, you’re so perfect,” Rafe whispers into your shoulder, kissing you over and over.

“Gonna make me come talking like that, baby,” you warn him.

“You want that? You want me to make you come in my hand?”

“Not yet,” you choke out, so close that you’re already dreading coming down from your high. It’s too soon, it’s not enough. No amount of him will ever be enough, but you at least need him closer. “Want you inside, need you in me.”

“Anything. Anything you want,” he swears as he pulls his hand from your core to rip your panties down your legs. You pull them off over your feet and toss them away as he removes his pants and boxers behind you. 

The fabric finally out of the way, his dick spears into your back, somehow always so much bigger and more powerful than you remember. You pray he doesn’t make you wait any longer, wriggling back onto your side so your soaked pussy is perfectly exposed to him. 

In the soft morning light, he finally gets a good view of your slick folds, nearly busting all over your back at the sight. He’s filled this new condo with the most expensive art he could find, but nothing comes close to the masterpiece in front of him. To him, you’re fucking priceless.

He wastes no more time, tucking a hand under your knee to angle your leg up. You take his cue, understanding each other without words as always, and brace your foot flat against his calf, propping yourself open for him.

A combination of the angle and his picture perfect memory of your walls has his tip hitting your g-spot on the very first thrust. He stretches you so sweetly, the tight fit making your brain go foggy and your mouth fall open, gasping helplessly.

“Like this?” He asks, not taunting but not really asking either, already knowing the answer to “this how you want it?”

“Not quite,” you whisper. 

He freezes with confusion before you reach behind you to find the hand he has braced on your hip, pulling it up and placing it back around your neck.

“There,” you say, “now it’s perfect.”

“Holy shit,” Rafe stammers, hips jerking forward, slamming into you a little too hard, lost in his infatuation with you. 

At first he worries it’s too hard, but a dreamy moan rises from your throat and you encourage, “yes, yes, like that, please.”

Mouth agape in disbelief at his pure fucking luck in finding you, he obeys your plea, pulling back slow before thrusting in hard again. The hand that’s not on your throat pushes into the mattress beneath your head, lifting himself up for leverage. He continues to fuck into you hard, pausing after each stroke to hit as deep as he can possibly get. You’re a mess, crying out with each slap of his hips against your ass, blabbering incoherently as you clench around him.

“Ohhh my god you’re so tight,” he growls through gritted teeth. “‘I’m gonna come if you keep squeezing me like that. You gonna let me come inside?”

Your eyes fly open as an invisible light bulb goes off above your head, you twist to meet his eyes, his lids low and irises completely blown out with lust.

“If I do, will you stay home?” you proposition him.

He scoffs, shaking his head in pure amusement and adoration, tongue digging into the side of his cheek in the cocky way you love. From this angle, the sharp features of his perfect face hover just inches from yours. The sheer attraction you feel makes your walls flutter around his cock, a tease of his reward if he promises to stay.

Rafe screws his eyes shut, his head falling back as you pulse around him repeatedly.

“Fuck! Yes, I promise, I promise,” he cries out as he continues thrusting into you sloppily, “I’ll do anything. I’ll sell my house, I’ll change my fucking name. Just ask me and I’ll do it.”

His theatrics delight you, bubbly giggles rising from your stomach as he loses himself in you. You can’t remember ever loving anyone as much as you love him at this moment.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, completely enamored with the man inside you.

Without a thought, he slips the hand on your throat to the back of your neck, kneading your skin as he pulls your mouth to his. It’s not gentle, like his typical good morning kisses, it’s messy and wet and hard and completely mind numbing. You bite on his bottom lip, almost accidentally, losing your mind at the taste of him.

“B-baby,” he stutters, his hips doing the same, “can’t - fuck -  can’t wait any longer. Tell me where you want it.”

“Mmmph, inside, please! Please fill me up, Rafe.”

It’s all he needs to hear, he buries himself deeper than he’s ever been. 

“Come with me?” he pleads.

You’re so close, you can’t even find words, nodding rapidly. He hits your g-spot one final time and you slip off the edge of the earth into uncut ecstasy.

Your eyes roll back and your toes dig into his leg, bruising his calf. His tip hits your cervix hard, hot cum pooling deep in your core, spilling out of him for longer than you thought possible. His breath is ragged and his chest heaving as his body jerks around you.

Both trembling, his arm gives out and he slumps down, curled around you. Sweaty and satisfied, you catch your breath together, Rafe still buried deep. 

He plants wet kisses on the nape of your neck, brushing your hair out of the way and blowing gently to cool you down. You see only bright white behind your closed eyes, floating in a perfect pleasure you didn’t know was possible until you met this man.

After a few moments, or possibly hours, he starts to pull out. Your hips chase his defiantly, refusing to lose his warmth again.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, reaching back to grab his hip and hold him in place. “You promised.”

“I also promised to change my name, you gonna make me do that, too?” He laughs.

“Maybe.”

“Oh really? What are you gonna call me?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. “How about daddy?”

Your teasing has the intended effect, Rafe twitching inside you, already hardening again. He knows you’re just playing with him, but his mind spirals out of control at the pet name. He’s so in love he thinks it might kill him.

Settling back into you, he reaches around the bed until his hand finds his discarded cell phone.

Your lips twist into a smirk as you hear him dial, still buried in your heat.

The dial tone rings a few times and he says, “yeah, gonna need you to clear my whole day. Something came up.”

He thanks the voice on the other line, hanging up and tossing his phone somewhere in the mountain of blankets on the floor.

“A whole day?” You ask, nestling back into his chest. “Aren’t you gonna lose the money from those investors?”

“Probably,” he shrugs, laying more slow kisses on your shoulder. “Worth every fucking cent.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[sceletaflores]

couldn't help it, i had to kiss the teacher!

pair: professor!logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, age gap (reader is mid twenties...logan is...his age), gratuitous nickname usage, public sex (classroom), oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), an impromptu clitoral anatomy lesson, scent kink, hair pulling, light traces of a foot fetish (i'm literally not even sorry), nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, nat trying to sound smart, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

a/n: based off of me going to my a&p lab today and getting super bored which somehow led to thoughts about professor logan who teaches a&p…that then spiraled into this very quickly. p.s this is like a t.a!reader not a student lol

professor logan has a special way of helping you retain information...

You've been huffing and puffing for the last twenty minutes.

Logan has been blatantly ignoring you for the last twenty minutes, because that's the only way a man with enhanced hearing can ignore someone.

Blatantly.

He's been at the chalkboard since you came in a little after his last class ended, busy mapping out his lesson plan for tomorrow.

The chalk squeaks rhythmically as he writes, you tap your foot in time with it.

You're perched on top of his desk, different stacks of papers messily scattered all around you like a tornado of ungraded essays and homework assignments tore across the glossy cherry wood of it.

You glare at Logan's back harder, forcing yourself to ignore the way his muscles glide and flex beneath the thin fabric of his flannel with every move. You've got your chin resting on the palm of your hand that's propped against your knee, the other holding a red pen down by your shoe.

You sigh, long and overdramatic, for what feels like the millionth time.

Logan doesn't turn around, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move at all. His hand hardly even slows, jotting down different tissue structures with infuriating disinterest.

You shift on his desk with a huff, dragging your eyes back to the paper in front of you. You scan over the messy handwriting and tiny diagrams littered over the page as you tap the pen in your hand against the toe of your shoe absentmindedly.

"Knock it off," Logan mutters from across the room, not looking at you as he does. It's the first thing he's said to you since you showed up.

You instantly perk up at the attention, flicking your eyes back to him.

“Knock what off?” you ask innocently, tapping the pen on your shoe harder than before. The tiny 'clack' sound it makes is sharp in the quiet of the room.

Logan finally turns, fixing you with a look that’s equal parts annoyance and amusement. “The sighin’, the tappin’, the huffin’ like you’re a broken radiator. You’ve been makin’ noise since you sat down.”

You narrow your eyes at him, unrepentant. "I’m bored."

He lets out a dry chuckle, turning back towards to board with a amused shake of his head. “Not my problem, sweetheart.”

You frown, dropping the pen and sitting up straighter, as if you’ve just been handed a challenge. "You could try and help me," you suggest, gesturing to the scattered pile with a wave of your hand. "You know? Like a good professor would."

"I don't grade papers, kid. That's what you're here for." Logan shoots over his shoulder, seamlessly picking up where he left off. “Besides, I’m good with the chalkboard for now. Better company.”

“Chalk doesn’t talk back,” you grumble under your breath.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, so now you can hear me?"

Logan doesn’t bother replying, but you can see the barely there smirk turning up the corners of his mouth.

You scoot forward on his desk, pushing papers out of the way so your legs can dangle over the edge. You swing your feet back and forth, just enough to disturb another pile of papers sitting nearby, watching them slide closer to the edge.

One more swing and the corner of a stack teeters precariously. You bite your lip, considering whether or not to send it tumbling just to see if that would get him to turn around again.

Logan, of course, somehow knows exactly what you’re thinking without even glancing towards you. “Don’t,” he grumbles lowly, a warning.

You freeze mid-swing, but the urge to push his buttons is too tempting. "What?" you say, all wide-eyed innocence, nudging the pile ever so slightly with your knee.

Logan lets out a deep sigh, giving you a sideways glance over his shoulder. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth sometimes, you know that? I doubt Hank's help nags him half as much.”

You grin, taking that as a small victory.

"I was recommended," you remind him, tone overly cheery and saccharine.

"Must've been desperate," he mutters, finally stepping away from the board and dusting chalk from his hands. Logan turns, crossing his arms as he leans back against the chalkboard, giving you a look that says he’s just on the edge of being amused

You raise an eyebrow, fixing him with a blank stare. "I’ll be sure to pass that along to Professor Xavier."

Logan shakes his head, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile. “Yeah? Be my guest. Make sure you tell him you’re spendin’ your time testin' my patience instead of your job.”

You slump back on the desk with a groan, head tilted towards the ceiling. "It's been forever since I've taken this class," you whine, rolling your head to the left lazily. "I hardly remember any of this, how am I supposed to grade it?"

"Barely remember any of this?" he repeats back to you, brow raised in disapproval. He pushes off the chalkboard and starts to make his way towards you. His steps are slow, deliberate, like he’s sizing you up—though you know it’s mostly for show. 

Mostly.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes, still splayed back on your palms and kicking your feet languidly. There’s chalk dust littered over his chest and the front of his thighs, coating them in a thin layer white. Your gaze trails the path of his steps, a slow smile tugging at your lips the closer he gets.

Logan stops in front of you, his towering frame almost filling your view entirely. You’re able to look him in the eyes perched on his desk like this, the green of them is darker than normal.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes glint with a teasing challenge as he tilts his head slightly, like he’s daring you to keep going.

“You got cotton in your ears when I’m up there talking or what?” he asks, voice dipping lower than before.

Your smile widens, and you shrug, trying to keep your cool under his heavy gaze. “You know I can’t listen to you when you wear jeans that tight.”

His eyes lock onto yours, their usual sharpness softened by something more dangerous, something that sends a thrill down your spine. "Maybe if you paid a little more attention," he says, voice a low rumble, "you wouldn’t need to whine so much."

You roll your eyes, even as the heat between you starts to curl in your chest. "Or maybe," you counter, leaning back a touch more and tilting your head up to meet his gaze better, "you could actually help me instead of being a complete pain in the—"

Before you can finish, Logan’s hands slam down on either side of you, caging you in. His face is inches from yours now, that barely-there smirk playing on his lips again.

You can feel the warmth radiating off him, the sharp edge of his stare cutting through your casual defiance.

“—ass,” you finally finish, voice slightly more breathless than before.

Logan just stares at you, the intense and unwavering attention you were itching for earlier makes you want to squirm in place now. His gaze is almost predatory, as if he’s taking in every flutter of your eyelashes and the quickening pace of your breath. 

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t back down.

You lean forward a little, tilting your head. "So, what’s it gonna take to get you to grade just one of these?" You pick up a paper from the pile and wave it in front of him teasingly. “I really need your help, professor.” 

The word drips from your lips like a challenge, a taunt.

Logan’s eyes flicker with something dangerous, a flash of heat that tells you he’s not as unaffected as he pretends to be. His fingers brush against the desk right beside your thigh, close enough to feel the warmth of him but it’s still too far.

He leans down slightly, inches away from your lips. His breath mingles with yours, warm and inviting, as the tension in the air thickens.

The scent of him—woodsy and masculine—invades your senses, and you can’t help but feel exhilarated. Your pulse starts to race, a mix of excitement and a hint of challenge flashing between you. 

You let out a soft breath, eyes fluttering shut as you lean forward almost involuntarily.

Just as you’re about to close the gap, he pulls back, straightening up with a smug grin.

“Tell you what,” he starts, voice gone casual like he isn’t testing the very limits of your sanity. “I’ll help you.”

You open your mouth, cocky victory speech on the tip of your tongue, but Logan cuts you off.

“Not with grading,” he clarifies with a shake of his head. “It’s more like a," he takes a slow pause, like he's trying to find the right words, "personalized lesson.”

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse thunders in your ears. "What kind of lesson are we talking about?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady but it still comes out breathless.

His hands move from the desk, gliding up your legs until they rest just above your knees, the warmth of his touch igniting every nerve ending in your body. 

“Logan—”

Anything you were going to say dissolves into a breathy gasp when he drops to his knees in front of you.

Your thighs clench together, arousal pooling in your panties sticky and wet. Logan's nose twitches, eyes darkening as he scents the headiness of your essence in the air.

His mouth twitches into a slow, deliberate grin as he catches the shift in your scent, the change in your body language betraying your desire. 

His hands, firm yet careful, slide higher along your thighs, fingers brushing the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of your skirt. The fabric rucks up ever so slightly under his touch, exposing just a little more of you to the cool air of the room and the heat of his gaze.

"Real quiet now," he teases darkly, voice husky and thick with tension, his thumbs tracing small, maddening circles against your skin. "Not so mouthy anymore, huh?"

Your breath hitches, a low heat sparking in the pit of your stomach and spreading outward.

Logan's grip tightens slightly, as though he’s testing the weight of your response, the way your thighs tense beneath his hands. He looks up at you, eyes dark and gleaming with an intensity that makes it impossible to think straight.

“You talk a lot of game, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice sending a thrill down your spine, “but I think it’s time to show me you can learn something."

You tilt your head back, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. Your body’s betraying you, hips shifting slightly forward, your legs spreading just so, inviting more of his touch—inviting him to make good on that unspoken promise that hangs between you.

Logan’s smirk deepens, dangerously close to devouring the last of your composure. "All you gotta do," he drawls, his breath hot against the inside of your thigh, "is ask for it."

His hands slide up a little more, his fingers catching on the edge of your panties. You can't help the sharp inhale that escapes you.

His challenge hangs in the air, thick and heavy, but you're past the point of hesitation. The words leave your lips before you even realize it.

"Teach me."

Logan’s grin spreads like wildfire, the kind that sparks and sets everything in its path ablaze. His eyes never leave yours, holding you captive as he flips your skirt up.

Something low and gritty tears its way from his chest at the sight of your panties, soaked fabric melded against the shape of your aching pussy. The sound echoes in the quiet room, low and primal, stirring a deep thrum of excitement in the pit of your stomach.

He shoves his way between your thighs, spreading them even further to make enough room for the width of his shoulders.

"You're a smart girl," Logan says easily, leaning down to trail kisses along the skin of your inner thigh, just inches from where you really need his mouth. "You should be able to tell me what tissue this is made of."

He dips his head, trailing his nose along the soaked fabric of your cotton panties until it nudges against your clit.

"Logan, I– ah!”

A sharp slap to your thigh cuts you off, pinpricks of pleasure making you cry out as they bloom red across your skin.

“Is that what you call me?”

It takes a second to click in the haze of your mind, what he’s asking for. When it finally does, you're whole body shivers, a broken moan falling from your lips as you take in the expectant look in Logan's eyes.

Your mind whirls, but the answer tumbles from your lips like a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

"Professor," you gasp, voice soft and laced with need.

Logan's grin is devilish, hands gripping your hips tight enough that you can feel the strength behind them.

"Good girl," he growls, voice thick with approval, the heat in his gaze burning you from the inside out. 

You let out a soft whimper, hips instinctively tilting toward him, silently begging for more. But he doesn’t move. Instead, his grip on your thighs tightens, holding you firmly in place.

“Uh-uh," he rumbles, his mouth inches from you, but not close enough to touch. "You know how this works. You haven’t answered my question."

You can’t respond, silent as you stare down at Logan, wide-eyed as your mind races for anything to say that’ll get him to keep going.

"Come on, baby," he urges, thumbs rubbing slow circles over your skin. "Just tell me somethin' smart, I'll give you what you want."

You try to focus, try to remember something—anything—about what he taught in class. But all you can think about is the way his hands feel on your thighs, the heat of his breath, the maddening nearness of his mouth.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing the edge of your panties, just shy of where you need him most, and you can't help the frustrated groan that escapes you.

“What's sweet thing made of?" He nudges the soaked fabric against your clit again, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

"Fuck...erectile tissue," you manage to breathe out, mind fogged as you claw for the right answer. "But it's—it's surface is covered in epithelial tissue."

Extra credit.

Logan hums, the sound low and approving. 

"Very good," he murmurs, his hands slipping beneath your panties, pushing the fabric aside. The first touch of his fingers against your bare skin sends a shiver of pure pleasure through you, your body arching off the desk in response.

His fingers tease along your slit, and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper threatening to spill out. Logan watches you closely, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he spreads you open with his fingers, exposing the slick heat between your legs.

Your back arches off the desk with a loud moan, hands gripping the edge hard enough that your knuckles turn white with it. 

“Fuck, look at that,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, sliding his index finger through the wetness gathering at your entrance. “This is all for me? This pretty pussy all wet for your professor?

He presses a finger against your entrance, teasingly pushing just the tip inside before pulling back, relishing the way your body instinctively arches toward him.

You shake your head, peering down at him with glassy eyes. “You were never my professor,” you shoot back breathlessly, unable to keep from pushing against him even now.

Logan hums absentmindedly, eyes glued to the space between your legs. “Lucky you,” he drawls, sinking two fingers inside you without warning.

Your head falls back with a cry, thighs tightening around his shoulders as sparks go off at the base of your spine. 

“Now, tell me how you feel,” Logan prompts, his voice gravelly and filled with that dark, teasing edge. His fingers glide up, slick as they draw tantalizing circles over your clit that set your nerves ablaze.

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, embarrassment mixing with arousal as you wrestle with the overwhelming sensations. “I—uh,” you stammer, trying to organize your thoughts, but they slip away like sand through your fingers. “I feel–ah!…good.”

Logan lets out a chuckle. “Good, huh? Just good? You can do better than that. Don't get shy now, baby.”

His hand speeds up, the lewd noise of your slick pussy fills the room with each thrust. “What’s it feel like when I’ve got my fingers in you, hm?”

The dam breaks inside of you, all the embarrassment leaving your body as your hips start rocking down against him lightly.

“Feels so good,” you slur, head lolling to the side to watch him through half-lidded eyes. “Your fingers feel so good in me, professor.”

You’re playing with fire and you know it, but when your eyes slip down his body to find the hard imprint of his cock more than visible through his jeans, you can’t help yourself.

You slide your foot up his toned thigh until the chunky sole brushes against the tented denim.

Logan’s eyes flutter shut for just a second, his grin turning almost feral as he feels the pressure of your foot against him. His hips rock forward slightly, just enough to acknowledge your touch.

“You’re pushin’ your luck, kid,” he bites out, voice rough as gravel, but there's a thread of amusement running through it—like he’s enjoying this game just as much as you are.

You give him a slow, languid smile. "Maybe I like pushing," you breathe, dragging your foot up and down the length of him slowly.

Logan groans darkly, sliding his fingers out of you in one slick motion that makes you whine in protest. His hand moves to grip your ankle, firm but not painful, keeping you pressed against his cock. 

“God, you smell so fuckin’ good,” he says quietly, the words passing through his lips like he couldn’t hold them in anymore. He brings his soaked fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a groan. 

"Taste even better." His voice is rough, filled with desire that matches your own. You can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your lips, your hips bucking involuntarily, begging for more.

His grin widens, and finally, after what feels like an eternity of teasing, he gives in. Logan lowers his head, his mouth pressing against your clit in a slow, deliberate kiss that has your back arching off the desk, a strangled cry ripping from your throat.

Your hands find his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands as you guide him closer, urging him on. His tongue flicks against your clit expertly, his stubble scratching deliciously against your skin with every drag of his head.

Your body feels like it’s been set on fire. The heat builds in your core, faster than you can control, a coil winding tighter and tighter until you feel like you’re about to snap. 

“I—I think I’m going to—” you stammer, overwhelmed by the pleasure as he picks up the pace, fingers moving faster.

“Tell me,” he growls, the rumble of it vibrating against your clit as he holds your gaze, plunging his fingers back inside of you. “I want to hear you say it.”

“God, Professor! Fuck, Logan, I’m gonna—” you cry out, your body trembling, ready to explode. Your pussy weeps around the stretch of his thick fingers, soaking his hand and his wrist with your wetness.

"Atta' girl," he growls, pressing his thumb over your clit to send a jolt of ecstasy through your core. "Makin' a fuckin’ mess all over my desk, just like that.”

He leans in, wrapping his mouth around your clit and sucking while his fingers keep up their relentless pace. With barely any pressure, he drags the harsh edge of his teeth over your clit and sends you tumbling over the edge, your body arching into his mouth as you come. 

The sheer force of it has your whole body tensing, your foot pressing on the clothed length of his cock harder than before. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as his hips buck up against the heel of your shoe. 

As you ride the waves of ecstasy, Logan’s eyes stay locked on yours, watching. Greedy eyes taking in every detail of your face, every moan and whimper that falls from your slick lips, every tremor of your body.

He doesn’t relent, his fingers working you through the aftershocks, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you until you’re left breathless, heart racing, and utterly spent. 

As you come down from the high, you glance at him, chest heaving with exertion. 

Logan’s already looking at you, his gaze has a little more softness mixed in with the heat still simmering. He drops one last kiss to the slick skin of your thigh before pushing your foot off his lap and standing. His lips and chin glistening with your release, that cocky smirk still firmly in place as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Your eyes fall to where he’s still hard and tenting the denim of his jeans, pre-come leaking from the tip to stain the fabric darker.

“Ready for another one,” he whispers, leaning in close. His lips brush over yours, hips slotting between your thighs to grind the hard length of his cock along your sensitive pussy.

You can’t help the smug smile that takes over your face, your arms raising up to circle around his neck. Your eyes trail along the boards forgotten lesson plan over his shoulder, to the papers that were sitting on his desk scattered on the hardwood. 

Your legs circle his waist, dragging him closer. "I think so."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[romanovthinkver]

What about Nat taking you for the first time, being soft and careful but losing control for a bit and filling you up to the brim 🥴

sorry for the wait anon, i needed to get rid of my uni things, but here we go! it came out longer than i imagined, hope you enjoy either way!

warnings: sex scenes, dom/sub dynamic, g!p nat, daddy!nat, p in v, gxg, breeding, blowjob, fingering, orgasm, age gap, dirty talks.

daddy! nat was a completely a soft bear during your first time. you weren’t nothing but an inexperienced little virgin thing and natasha was this older woman who clearly had lots of sex in the past.

she took so much care of everything. the bed had towels for the eventuality of blood loss, bottles of water were lined up on the bedside table, the room was in the right temperature, a hand towel ready to wipe you off and she already set items ready for the aftercare. everything was under her control and ready to assure every of your comfort.

wet, needy and ready you were on her big bed being eaten and stretched out for the first time, at every whimper of discomfort natasha would softly hush you and press a kiss on your thighs. she was slow, lovely, giving you time to process and let her taste you in the most delicate ways.

natasha could’ve swear she would have been happy to die between your milky thighs with her mouth and fingers deep inside you, the sweet taste of your juices tempting and the most sinful sounds rolling off your tongue were driving the older woman drunk and lustful.

she was there with you, living the moment, living the passion, living the love flowing between you. starting to memorise your body that eventually became her favourite place to be, to mark, to own.

her knee sunk into the bed and while you were worshipping her plump breasts, she was jerking herself off with grunts and moans. your pussy was soaked thanks to the two orgasms she already gave you.

she shifted both of you on the bed, her back propped up against a mountain of pillows on the bed. fully naked, skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. her breath came in shallow gasps as natasha watched you, who was positioned between her legs.

natasha’s cock was standing erect and ready as you leaned closer, breath hot against the warm flesh. you kissed the tip hesitating, lips soft and teasing. your daddy eyes fluttered closed momentarily, a low groan escaping her lips.

“oh, bunny,” she breathed, her voice thick with desire.

your tongue darted out, feeling bolder to giving the tip a series of playful kitty licks looking up at the redhead for guidance which was immediately given as big veiny hands found their way into your curls, gently tugging to guiding your movements.

“look at me, baby girl,” natasha commanded, her voice firm yet tender. you obeyed, gaze locking with her and slowly taking the cock in your mouth starting with just the tip, tongue swirling around it before starting to take more, inch by inch like a drug.

the woman’s hips bucked involuntarily, desperate to thrust deeper into your wet and welcoming mouth, hands tightened in your hairs, trying to maintain control. “take it all, bunny. I want you to take every inch.”

your eyes filled eventually with tears as the cock reached the back of the throat, but you didn’t pull away because you wanted to make your daddy proud, so you relished the sensation of pleasing her, the power and submission blending into a heady mix that made your own body tingle with arousal. bobbing head, cheeks hollowing as you sucked, tongue working the length of the massive venous cock.

natasha’s breathing grew ragged, her moans louder and more desperate. “fuck–you’re amazing, baby girl. just like that.” her fingers twisted in your hairs holding you in place firmly.

you could feel the twitching of the prick as the heavy balls of the woman prepared to release its contents, you redoubled efforts, mouth moving faster, eyes never leaving natasha’s. the connection between you was electric, the intensity almost overwhelming.

“daddy needs you to swallow, bunny,” natasha growled, her hips trembling with the effort to stay still, she was so close and only god knows how she wanted to pin you down and fuck your mouth with mercy. “can you do that for me?”

you nodded as best you could, eyes filled with determination and devotion. with one final, deep thrust, natasha released her load, filling your mouth with the warm, sticky cum. you gagged slightly but quickly composed yourself, swallowing every drop as your daddy had commanded.

the redhead whole body shuddered with pleasure as she watched you. “that’s my good girl. you took it so well, baby.” pulling you up for a kiss, your mouths meeting in a passionate, messy collision. the taste of the cum was still on your lips, and natasha licked it off, savoring the flavor.

"you're so beautiful, baby," natasha murmured against your lips. she kissed her way down to your body again and her thumb found your clit, teasing your folds. you moaned softly, body arching towards the woman.

natasha made sure you was wet enough, she was so worried to hurt you like you were made of glass. patting the tip of her cock against her pussy and brushing the tip gently over her entrance, she breathed softly "are you ready, my little one?.”

you nodded with eyes filled with trust and need. "yes, daddy. please."

the redhead positioned herself and slowly pushed the tip inside you, inch by inch, ensuring you didn't feel too much pain, her lips found yours in a slow, sweet kiss, muffling your mutual groans of pleasure and then finally she bottomed fully inside you.

"you're doing so well, princess," she praised, her voice tender and head resting on your neck, you were so warm and tight and natasha was already on the brick of blowing. she kissed you softly while you gripped at her back with nails digging in slightly.

natasha, once sure the pain went away, began to thrust gently, setting a slow and intimate pace. each movement was filled with love and adoration, her hips moving rhythmically against yours. "you feel so good, bunny. so perfect.”

you whimpered, body trembling with pleasure and need for more. "daddy! oh–more, more. please!”

natasha increased her pace gradually, her thrusts becoming more intense. "fuck–baby, i need to cum inside of you. i need to fill you up, sweet girl. daddy needs to claim you." she continued to move, her body pressed intimately against yours until she felt the climax building.

with a final thrust, the redhead released the cum inside your warm pussy, humping softly to ensure it stayed within you. "take it all, princess. you're so good for me," natasha praised, her voice full of pride and affection.

foreheads touching, breath ragged and sweet smiles painted your lips and bodies locked close, natasha caressed your hair, kissed you gently, and whispered sweet nothings. "you're my everything, bunny. you did so well," her voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

she kissed you deeply again and again. your connection building stronger than ever, as you held each other close, the world outside fading away in the warmth of your shared love.

[ncis-nerd]

Christmas Cheer

new au alert

Ship: Wife WandaNat x Reader // Platonic Kate & Reader // Brief mention of Kate x Yelena

Warnings: Mentions of Christmas, working in retail, the festive season, winter, alluding to reader being anemic.

About: Christmas time is the best time of the year for most, you love the generosity of people during this season. The Christmas movies, the hot chocolate, gift giving and most of all, spending time with the people you love. 

You hummed softly to the Christmas jingle playing in the background. You loved your job, you loved your elderly boss who would show you pictures of her grandchildren, your friend/co-worker Kate who you would spend your lunch break with. Going with you to your favorite Chinese Takeout place.

You loved your job but sometimes you regretted working retail at a toy shop during the Christmas season. Not to get you wrong, you loved seeing the joy on the kids faces, the sparkle in their eye when they got their heart set on a toy they really wanted. And you loved the magic of the festive season but it could be overwhelming sometimes. 

Stressed parents running on low energy and little sleep, desperate to find the popular toy their kid wants, searching endless stores just for the toy to be sold out. You couldn't blame them.

You didn't realize you were staring at these two women looking at the window's display of toys. They smiled softly, one woman had on this red and white knitted hat with reindeer on it. The other had a long coat on. You saw her whisper to the woman with the hat. The woman with the hat had a hot chocolate in her hand.

“Hello? Earth to Y/n?” Kate waved her hand in front of your face. “Huh?” You returned your attention to the raven haired girl.

“I said, do you want to go on lunch right now?” Kate asked as a low growl sounded from her stomach. You chuckled softly at the warning from your friend’s stomach that she was hungry.

“Sure! Let me just grab my coat and we can go.” You nodded, heading to the back room where your locker was. 

As you zipped up your red puffy jacket, Kate appeared in the doorway. “Ready?” She asked. You nodded as the two of you made your way to the Chinese restaurant. 

“It's so cold I can see my breath!” Kate exclaimed, exhaling only to be greeted with a small trail of fog exiting her mouth. You shivered in your layers which consisted of your hat, gloves, scarf, sweater, shirt, second shirt, pants and thermal pants. You got cold easily and instead of complaining all the time (which you still do by the way), you learnt that layering up helps you stay warm. Your mom had told you many times “I don't know how you can do it, I could never wear that many layers” but you shrugged her off. 

“We're here! I can smell the food!” Kate smiled as she opened the door to Tony's. Tony's is the name of the Chinese Takeout restaurant you and Kate go to. You've been going there ever since the first day you were hired. You can still remember it vividly. You were sitting in the backroom eating your pb&j sandwich when Kate came in and introduced herself. The two of you were around the same age, the rest of your co-workers were way older than you guys so Kate made the decision to talk to you and become friends. From that day on, you guys have been going to Tony's for lunch. 

Now that it's December, Tony's is more crowded. Especially since they came out with their Christmas themed menu, families and teenagers lined up to get something. 

Thankfully, there was no one when you and Kate went. If there was, you feared Kate's stomach might explode. 

“Hi there ladies, table for 2?” Steve smiled, as he picked up two menus. “Yup!” You nodded. “Is that Kate and Y/N?” You heard Clint's voice from the kitchen.

Clint was a chef who worked at Tony's, he had cooked if not all the meals you and Kate shared there, than most. In your time going to Tony's, you had gotten to know Clint well, you know he has a wife and two young daughters who sometimes come to visit him during his break.

“Yeah!” Steve responded. “Hello Kate, hello Y/N. How's the shift going?” Clint had a warm smile on his face. “Work's going well, how are things here?” You spoke. “Same old, same old. I assume you two want your regular?” Clint nodded. “Yeah, better make it quick. Kate here is starving.” You smirked. “Hey! I'm not starving!” Kate whined. You looked at her with a chuckle as she proved her own point with the whining. 

Clint led you two to your table. “Food should be out shortly” Clint nodded as he left. Your eyes scanned the room. You noticed a family sitting at one of the circular booth tables. The little girl had on a pink tutu and an orange shirt. The mom was on the phone and the dad was holding the brother. The little girl made eye contact with you and waved. You smiled softly and waved back.

Clint returned with your water and Kate’'s coffee and placed it down on the table. There was a soft red tint on Kate's face, you could tell she was texting her girlfriend, Yelena.

That's when you noticed the couple from the toy store had entered the restaurant. The blonde was taking off her hat as the woman in the long coat took her friend's hand and rubbed her hands together, to warm it up. You smiled softly at this gesture, you loved seeing how the holiday spirit brought people together.

Clint led the two ladies to the 2 seater tables right by you and Kate. “Thank you” the woman with the hat spoke, with a thick Sokovian accent. “Of course. Can I get you started on drinks?” Clint spoke. “I would like the bloody mary” the other woman spoke, her voice laced in a thick Russian accent.

“And for you ma'am?” Clint looked at the blonde. “Hot chocolate is fine. Thanks.” She nodded. Clint left once again, to make their drinks this time.

“This place is nice” the blonde spoke. “Да, освещение красивое, и меню выглядит хорошо.” the Russian responded. 

The Russian's eyes fell on you, you quickly looked away. Hoping that she didn't notice your staring. 

“Симпатичная девушка из магазина игрушек здесь.” the Russian's attention focused back on the woman sitting across from her. 

You wondered what she was saying. Right on cue, Clint comes out with your chicken lo mein and Kate's fried rice.

“That looks so good, my mouth is literally watering right now” Kate moaned. You giggled at her reaction. 

“I wish you a Merry Christmas” filled the silence in the restaurant as your phone went off. In that moment you regretted your ringtone. “Hello?” You answered. “Hi Y/N, I'm so sorry to disturb you from your lunch break but it’s so busy in here right now and we could sure use you and Kate back here at the store” You felt bad you guys were understaffed today and it probably didn't help that you and Kate took your lunch break at the same time. “Of course, I’ll let Kate know. We should be back shortly.” You hung up. 

Kate groaned, “Nooo.. I’m so hungry.” You frowned apologetically, “Sorry Kate, Elaine needs us back. She said there’s a big crowd in there right now.” You signaled for Clunt to return. “Hey, can you make this a to-go. Kate and I have to return to work unfortunately.” You said as Clint took the food away.

You zipped back up your coat and collected your belongings as you and Kate walked up to the register.

“Have a good one and stay warm, alright?” Clint spoke.

Google Translate:

Да, освещение красивое, и меню выглядит хорошо. - Yes, the lighting is beautiful and the menu looks good.

Симпатичная девушка из магазина игрушек здесь. - The cute girl from the toy store is here.

[nateezfics]

everything was hot. your surroundings seemed to also be affected by this thick atmosphere, weighed down by the searing tension. time was nonexistent, and it felt like this moment dragged on. maybe because of the heavy heat sticking to your skin or maybe because of the heady fog that clouded your mind. you didn’t quite know for sure.

but one thing you did know was that the next drag of your bare cunt across an equally bare thigh was enough to make your body shudder…again. you’d lost count of how many times your body trembled under the weight of this sensation, and you certainly couldn’t remember how many times you’d climaxed already. jittery, weak fingers grasped as the cotton fabric of your boyfriend’s tee and you whimpered. a plea for reprieve.

“shhh,” came hongjoong’s serenely sweet voice in your ear. it was meant to calm you, but with the way his hands still gripped your hips to urge you back and forth, it did nothing of the sort. “it’s alright, i’m here.”

there were tears in your eyes; crystalline pearls shimmering in the low light. “‘s too much, joongie.” your bottom lip jutted out in a pout, a sight hongjoong found endearing.

he kissed the pout away with a soft, light kiss, a contrast to the nasty way your pussy smeared slick all over the skin of his clenched thigh. “it’s okay, you’re okay. i’ll make it all better, yeah? just give me one more, precious.”

you cried out when he flexed his thigh again, the hardened muscle pressing perfectly against your cunt, your clit dragging so right over that prominent vein that popped under the skin. your arousal was dripping down his thigh and onto the floor; his shorts were hiked up out of the way, his erection prominent under the crumpled fabric. “i — i don’t know if i can!”

your broken voice made hongjoong’s dick throb, more precum leaking out and wetting his shorts. he ached to be in you, to be surrounded by the soft, sticky warmth of you that was currently pressed over his thigh. he put his own desire on the back burner, instead focusing on you and your pleasure, which ultimately was his pleasure as well. he moved you back and forth and gradually increased the speed until you were on the verge again. “my precious girl, yes you can. c’mon on now, show me how good you are. show me how good i make you feel.”

you were nothing if not completely obedient to him. his words held a power over you akin to a spell, and you found yourself falling apart at the seams. “mmh!” the pleasure was a lot, intensified by all the orgasms that came before. it was almost painful the way your cunt pulsed over his thigh, a sensation you were certain was not missed by him, and you cried at the weight of it all. he was there to hold you steady through it all, his lips on your temple, your cheek, your eyelids, the corner of your mouth. he was like an anchor for you as you came down, a lifeline back to reality.

“you,” hongjoong started, kissing your lips. “are so precious, so good for me. you did so well.” he brought you into his embrace, smiling softly when your tear stained face buried into itself his chest. he rubbed comforting circles into your back. “we can stay here as long as you need. then we’ll go get you cleaned up, yeah?”

notes from nat: uh…uh…yeah so here’s this. couldn’t get the thigh riding brain rot out of my head after posting this picture yesterday;; didn’t have the brain power to write a whole ass fic on this but i just had to jot down something. oh and speaking of brain rot,, will be labeling posts like this as my brain rot posts. they aren’t structured enough to be fics, so they’re just my brain rot. will be putting these on my master list for easier navigation, of course <3

© nateezfics. do not plagiarize. do not repost. do not translate.

[dirtyvulture]

No Glory

Beefy!MMA Fighter!Natasha Romanoff* x Fem!Stripper!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 3570

Summary: Your club gets a visit from rising boxer Natasha “Black Widow” Romanoff.

*Nat has a 🍆 and is a virgin

AN: Been working on this one for a while... 😉

Sometimes Natasha wonders why she chose this path in life. The chain-link fence of the octagon cage rattles from the spectators’ excitement, reminding her that she’s only here for their entertainment. The eyeballs and cameras drink in the violence and bloodshed like an elixir, the crowd cheering for more. They didn’t pay all that money for a ten-second fight that ends with a single punch to the temple and a body lying still on the mat. They want to see the full three rounds, pushed to the last second, where the fighters can hardly stand straight and blood soaks through the mats.

She circles the pen warily, shifting her weight back to her left leg because her right thigh has swollen to a near-bursting point after taking a rapid succession of roundhouse kicks that probably could’ve fell a house support beam. Blood drips into her left eye and she hopes her eyebrow is at least still attached to her face. She lifts her hands to protect what’s left, her forearms and biceps aching, but she knows if she doesn’t end things soon, she’ll be the one laid out while the audience celebrates.

Her opponent, a pixie-cut blonde with a few inches over her, bounces on the mats with a seemingly endless supply of energy. The only visible damage Natasha’s left on her is a fattened bottom lip. Natasha is annoyed, wishing she had done a better job wearing her opponent out so the end wouldn’t be so difficult. 

She shuffles forward a few steps as much as her injured leg will allow, causing her opponent to bounce back in response. She fruitlessly throws a few punches, which her opponent blocks effortlessly. Her opponent might have the capacity to play around with her the rest of the evening, but Natasha doesn’t have the time. 

She moves backwards now, practically inviting her opponent in for a free hit. When Natasha sees the light of realization in her opponent’s eye, she knows it’s over. She momentarily shifts her weight to her right leg, a spike of adrenaline masking the pain long enough for her to spin on her heel, lifting her left leg as high as she can manage. Her left heel connects with her opponent’s jaw with a satisfying crack.

“KNOCKOUT!” the announcer roars. “Danvers is down!”

Natasha wobbles on both legs as the referee jumps in between her and Danvers, lying frozen stiff on the mats with one arm still raised. She is momentarily jealous of Danvers’s unconsciousness, wishing she could lay down too, but when she sees the look of shock in Danvers’s eyes as she comes to, she isn’t jealous anymore.

“Your winner…Natasha ‘Black Widow’ Romanoff!”

She turns to face the audience, raising a fist and hearing their screams and cheers grow louder. But the win feels empty to her. There was not much at stake at an amateur fight and her reward would be even less after her manager/coach/adoptive father took his cut. Training would be even worse with her new injuries and she already had another fight scheduled in less than a week. As she squints through the bright lights shining down on the octagon, she looks out at the audience, knowing she won’t find you there but wishing she would.

***********************************************************************

“Hey, turn that up,” you say, catching a glimpse of the TV in the mirror.

“Why?” Wanda asks, smearing red lipstick around her mouth. “You’re not into MMA.”

“No, but that one client of hers is,” Jane chimes in and you feel her cheeks heat up. 

“Which one?”

“You know, that buff redhead.”

“Ohhhh.”

You tune them out to focus on the fight. You didn’t really consider Natasha Romanoff a client of yours because she never seemed to want to get actually near you–you could always feel her eyes on you from afar, but every time you approached she suddenly turned icy cold, murmuring excuses and turning down your offer to take her to one of the back rooms for a private show. She was an enigma and a little rude too, but you found yourself hopelessly drawn to her. 

You watch as Natasha limps forward, before spinning around and kicking Danvers in the face. 

“KNOCKOUT! Danvers is down!”

You try to hide your smile. You knew she could do it. She might not have had the greatest track record, but she was still just starting. Maybe she’d come visit you tonight as a way to reward herself, and maybe you’d finally get a real chance to be with her. You turn back to your mirror, reaching for the mascara. You always wanted to make sure you looked the best when she came in.

***********************************************************************

Natasha watches unblinkingly as the nurse presses the enormous ice pack to her bruised thigh, holding it in place with a plastic wrap she’s sure she’s used in the kitchen before. Her ankle is elevated on a chair and she’s only in her underwear now so she caught a full glimpse of the damage Danvers caused before the ice pack hid away most of it. 

She winces when a second nurse pinches the skin above her left eyebrow and presses on a pair of butterfly stitches. 

“How did you win but Danvers walked away better than you?” the first nurse says to no one in particular. Natasha doesn’t answer. 

“I bet the gamblers were not happy with that upset tonight,” the second nurse responds. 

“My daughter knows how to give a show,” a deep Russian voice slurs from behind them. Natasha doesn’t move to acknowledge her father lumber into the locker room. “Very good today, Natasha. Very, very good.” A heavy hand slams painfully on her shoulder and she jolts. “You almost had me fooled, too.” He shakes her and Natasha holds onto the sides of the flimsy metal chair she’s propped in so as not to fall to the floor. “But I trained you well. I know I did.”

“Yes, Dad,” Natasha mumbles, trying to shake his hand off her shoulder. She just wants to be away from everyone now. She hardly cares that it’s her first win in weeks. These were the last people she wanted to be celebrating with.

“Alexei!” The manager walks in next. He’s shorter and smaller than Natasha’s father and Natasha only knows his name as Dreykov. He wears thick-rimmed glasses and has his thin gray hair perpetually slicked back. “I’ve got a good payday for you.”

“For once!” Alexei cheers, walking over to Dreykov. The men share an awkward but enthusiastic handshake, before Dreykov reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a wad of cash. Natasha swears she can see the dollar signs in her father’s eyes as Dreykov begins peeling and counting bills.

“We’ll be celebrating tonight,” Alexei says as he proudly accepts the money. Almost like it’s an afterthought, he turns towards Natasha and offers her a single, hundred-dollar bill. “Here you go, honey. Treat yourself tonight. Go to that club that you like, but don’t bring any of the girls home.” He and Dreykov laugh. Natasha snatches the bill out of his hand. She knows she’s owed more for her share, but she’s too tired to complain. She hates the situation she’s gotten herself into, but knows there’s no escaping it now.

***********************************************************************

Your eyes scan the club, your vision so well-adjusted to the dim lighting and red LEDs that you can still see faces perfectly well. Either she’s not here yet, or she’s playing her usual game and hiding in the corner with a beer.

Wanda bumps your hip with hers and you remember to keep moving down the catwalk, continuing your performance for the rowdy men cheering by the edge of the stage. But you’re not interested in a single one of them tonight. You’re waiting for the redhead to appear, because this time, you aren’t just going to ogle from afar. 

Natasha carefully lifts herself into a stool at the corner of the bar. The ache in her leg is softened a little by the painkillers her father forced her to take before she left the gym, so she orders a Coke instead of her usual beer. She takes a sip, letting the sugar dissolve in her mouth, and rubs her eyes, suddenly feeling a wave of exhaustion hit her harder than Danvers had. Maybe she should’ve just gone back to her apartment and slept instead of coming here.

“Hi there.”

Natasha nearly jumps out of her seat. You’re suddenly standing next to her, and you look even more beautiful up close. 

“Um, uh…” Natasha splutters, trying not to spill the Coke on herself and setting it back on its coaster. “Hi.”

“I saw your fight earlier. The girls all pitched in for the pay-per-view,” you say.

“Oh.” Natasha feels her cheeks heat up as red as the mood lighting in the club. “That was nice of them.”

“I knew you’d come here to celebrate your win. Congratulations.”

“It was a lucky kick,” Natasha deflects, feeling infinitely embarrassed by your praise.

“No, you won fair and square,” you insist.

“Thanks,” she finally concedes.

“Not even a beer tonight?” you ask, gesturing to her glass of bubbling Coke.

Natasha shakes her head. “I didn’t want to mix alcohol with painkillers.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” Natasha hears pity in your voice and her stomach twists. She wishes she could appear stronger and cooler. She’s worried that she’s not living up to your expectations as an MMA fighter, even though she had just won a fight (a first in weeks).

“Can I get you something to drink?” she squeaks, desperate to distract herself from the self-loathing.

You wave her offer away. “I was thinking maybe we could go back to one of the private rooms tonight. If you want to, that is.”

“Me? With you?” Natasha blushes as red as her hair. “I…um…” she splutters. “Sorry, I don’t think I have enough money for that right now.”

“My treat,” you say, putting your hand on her forearm, which tenses up considerably under the leather jacket she’s stretching out.

“Oh, that’s um…very nice of you for offering,” she stammers, pulling her arm away. “But you don’t have to. I don’t want to take your time away from paying customers,” she stalls. 

“I want you,” you emphasize, and it makes Natasha’s stomach do somersaults. She’s dreamed of this moment for months, but resigned herself to the fact that she would never have the confidence to ask you this herself. You probably deserved someone much better than her, not a loser who allowed herself to get beat up for a living. 

“Are you sure?” Natasha asks, giving you one final chance to walk away. She didn’t want you to do anything you might later regret.

“Yes,” you assure, and there’s no way someone as dense as Natasha can mistake the passion in your voice for anything less. Natasha finally takes your hand and she hopes you won’t mind the callouses roughening up her palm. She looks around, as if she’s embarrassed someone will catch her with you. But no one is paying attention with the dancers on the stage, where Natasha would normally watch you from afar.

You take her past the bathrooms, through a door she had never noticed before, to an empty hallway marked with more doors. Buzzed on excitement and nerves, Natasha hardly notices the ache in her leg anymore. 

“This one,” you point out the third one on the left and usher her in. 

Natasha isn’t quite sure what she expected, but it almost reminds her of a hotel room. However, she notices there’s no lock on the inside of the door. 

“Um…” Natasha stands there awkwardly behind you as you close the door. “I need you to know something,” she blurts out.

“Yes?”

“I’m a…um, I mean…” She doesn’t know why it’s so hard to admit, she would rather fight Danvers again with both hands tied behind her back. “I’ve never done…this before,” she says lamely, her face reddening in shame.

“Oh.” Natasha deflates when she hears your reaction. “Well, that’s okay,” you add quickly and she stares at you while holding her breath. “I’d love to be your…first.”

“Really?” She doesn’t want you to see her like a chore you have to get done so you can move along your day. “I’m sorry I never approached you first and just watched you from the bar like a creep. I just thought you were so beautiful that you’d never want to give someone like me a chance–”

You lean forward and press your fingers to her lips. Her eyes widen at your touch but she finally picks up the courage to gently lift her hands to your hips, beckoning you to close the distance between the two of you. 

“Are you sure?” Natasha whispers one last time, her breath warm on your cheeks. You nod as she quickly presses her lips to yours, still carrying an air of nervousness. “Should we…the bed?” she suggests, cringing at how crass it sounds.

You hide a chuckle and allow her to lead you to the queen-sized bed, where she sits on the edge first, parting her legs so you can stand between them. You lean down and kiss her again, this time with more passion, and she cups your cheek with her rough palm. She feels the sudden tightening in her pants and shifts her leg to adjust herself.

“It’s your leg okay?” you ask.

“Um, it’s not my leg…”

“Maybe I can help?” you propose, turning your focus first to her belt and then her zipper.  Natasha tries to help you but you push her hands away; instead, she lifts herself off the bed so that you can pull down her pants and boxers. She moans when your hand closes around her shaft and starts tugging at her gently. 

“Y/N,” she whispers, rocking her hips slightly to push more of herself through your hand. Your hand feels infinitely better than hers ever has and just the thought of what your pussy might feel like has her head reeling already. 

“Do you like that?” you ask, ghosting your lips over hers. Natasha tries to kiss you but pulls back and gasps when you squeeze her head, collecting the pre-cum that dribbles out on your finger. She watches with wide eyes as you bring your finger to your mouth and suck it off, and she throbs even harder in your hand.

“Please, Y/N,” she begs, and even her legs are shaking now too (but she suspects that might also be because her muscles are weak).  

“Sit down and take your clothes off,” you tell her, taking off your jacket and tossing it on the floor. Natasha eyes your curves with a spark of lust, but she doesn’t touch you without permission. She hastily tries to follow your instruction, wanting to watch you undress instead, but with a few fumblings rids herself of the leather jacket and the plain white T-shirt she had been wearing underneath. You’ve left yourself in a pair of lacey lingerie as you crawl onto the bed to join her, pushing her back until her spine bumps against the headboard.

“Still okay?” you ask, straddling her waist but mindful of the enormous dark bruise on her right thigh.

“Can I touch you?” Natasha asks, almost squirming underneath you in desperation.

“Of course,” you say, guiding her hands to your hips where she squeezes them roughly, sliding to the backside of your thighs and pulling you towards her. Her hard cock is pressed against her abs when you fall against her and she jogs her hips to create a slight friction between your bodies. You rock forward, smearing some of her pre-cum onto your stomach. Natasha gasps at the sight and feels herself harden even more, until she’s afraid it’s about to burst on the spot.

“I don’t…know how much longer…I’ll last,” she pants, trying to slow the movement of your hips. You’ve hardly touched her and she isn’t even inside you yet, but the shameful thought deflates her just a little bit.

“Just a little more,” you tease, wrapping your hand around her slick cock and pumping it back to full mast again. Natasha grunts and moans, her muscles flexing in an impressive display for you as she tries to enjoy the pleasure without ruining the moment. Her fingers slip under the band of your panties, but you slap her hand away and she looks up at you guiltily.

“Let me,” you insist, leaning back to slowly shimmy out of your panties. Natasha is worried she’ll start drooling when you finally expose yourself to her, where she can see the glimmering wetness of your anticipation. “Look what you’ve done to me,” you say as you lower yourself to press your wetness against her cock. “Feel it.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” Natasha mumbles, wondering if you can feel how hard her cock is throbbing for you too. She cants her hips up to slide herself through your heat, even though the movement reminds her of the pain in her leg. “I need you, baby.”

“I need you too,” you say, moving to match her rhythm. It fills Natasha with happiness to hear you say this; she’s never had it said to her before and quite literally spent most of her time as a punching bag for others. But even if you’re just caught in the heat of the moment and only viewing her as a favor, she wants to enjoy this and couldn’t be more excited you chose to spend time with her tonight.

“Did you bring protection?” you ask, startling Natasha out of the moment.

“Oh…um, yes. It’s in my wallet,” she says, reminded of the little foil packet one of her sparring buddies had given her as a joke. They wouldn’t be laughing anymore when they learned she had finally gotten the chance to use it.

There is an awkward pause as you lift off of Natasha enough for her to slide out and grab the wallet in her jeans, tearing open the packet as she gets on the bed again. Her hands are trembling as she tries rolling the plastic over herself, but you end up helping her finish. 

“Thanks,” she mutters, embarrassed by her own helplessness.

“It’s okay.” You kiss her forehead and hold onto her shoulder with one hand to steady yourself, the other hand gripping onto her shaft and guiding it towards your entrance. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she says, holding her breath and squeezing your hips tighter. 

She easily slides into you, trapping her in a velvet heat that seems to swallow her whole. The two of you moan in unison and Natasha holds herself very still, torn between wanting to bury her entire length in you and not wanting to hurt you. Her heart is racing with exhilaration but she patiently waits for you to start moving, the arousal in her stomach spiking to an almost painful point when she feels how easily she moves through you.    

Her back arches against the headboard when you purposely squeeze her and her nails claw at your thighs. 

“Come on, Nat,” you say, “Come and fuck me.”

Natasha doesn’t respond with words, but jack her hips up hard, meeting your thighs with hers with an audible slap. Her arousal is so strong now it completely drowns out the lightning bolts of pain from her leg as she pistons eagerly into you, trying to fit all of herself into you. She wants your tightness around every inch of her, massaging her in the best way she’s ever been touched before. She can feel herself leaking in the condom and knows it won’t be too much longer until she busts completely. 

But she wants you to feel good too, and doesn’t want to focus too much on her own pleasure. 

You bounce higher with every one of Natasha’s thrusts and she starts to lose her rhythm the closer she gets to release. Her hips and abs burn and she buries her face in your chest, mouthing at your breasts in a last-ditch effort to distract herself, but to no avail. 

Natasha finishes in a few hard spurts that seem to drain all the energy out of her. She lays back limply against the headboard, the muscles in her thighs still twitching. Your riding slows to a full halt as you wait for her body to stop shaking. Natasha reaches up to stroke your face tenderly.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and you beam down at her.

***********************************************************************

Natasha opens her eyes, feeling like she had been hit by a bus. She looks around and doesn’t recognize the space, before she suddenly remembers her successful fight against Danvers, and then the night she had with you. 

But you’re nowhere to be seen now, although Natasha’s clothes, which she had haphazardly tossed to the floor, are now collected in a neat stack on a chair. She gets up to put her clothes on and her phone falls out of her jeans pocket. The screen lights up with text messages from her father, wondering why she was late to practice that morning.

The harshness of reality slapping her in the face, she hurries to dress. She isn’t even sure if she’s supposed to be here, but she finds a back door and sneaks out, unsure if she’ll ever have the confidence to return.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Sorry this ended kind of sad, I’ve been really sad lately so it only made sense lol.

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[blackkwidowed]

overstimming bottom!nat

i love the image of her thighs shaking like crazy, jaw slack, strands of red hair smeared across her forehead. she'll be panting between breaths of begs and pleas, and your name too probably

she loves the feeling of your mouth when she's overstimulated. it's soft, hot, familiar. nat's sensitive and squirming, and you do your best to hold her hips down tight against the mattress

oh, and the mess she'll make too- christ. i'm talking filthy, leaking all over your mouth, and your fingers when you decide to introduce her to them when her hazy mind has forgot and focused on your tongue. god, she tastes good too. and you'll tell her so. she might have the decency to blush, but you're more likely to get a smirk out of her

imagine having her tied to the bed actually as well. like, hands and legs all tied to different bed posts. she's spread out for you on the bed, clit pulsing, needy and clenching around nothing. just waiting for you because she knows, show knows you're not finished with her yet

also; using your fingers for a while too. laying between her legs, filling her with three fingers and watching as you fuck her slowly, watching her reactions but staring as your fingers split her too. one of the hottest sights you think, especially paired with the gorgeous, soft groans she releases when your fingers push in

one of your favourite things about her being tied down and overstimmed and quite literally shaking is the fact that even when she thinks she's done, you can always persuade her to give you one more with gentle pleas, lots of praise and some coaching

"i know you can cum again baby, i can feel you around me"

"good girl, c'mon, just one more for me"

[solarsturniolo]

𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 // 𝔖𝔎𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯!ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰

©Solarsturniolo 2024

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who only bought kneepads and a helmet after you showed concern for him after a bad tumble. Because, even though he doesn’t care much about his safety, he knows that you do. He’d rather get hit by a car than putting you through the stress again; seeing the way your hands shook as you cleaned up his cuts and the way your eyes watered as you refused to look at him. He decided some safety gear was a good investment.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who holds your hands to keep you steady while you practice on his board. “Easy, you’re thinkin’ too much about it, just imagine your feet are goin’ right through the board into the ground…there ya go-“

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who doesn’t like to sleep alone, so he’ll facetime you or invite you to come ‘hang out’ which will inevitably end in a sleep over. “No I know you slept over last night, and the night before that, and the night before that, but just hear me out-“

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who shares his food with you no matter where you go. He’ll give you shit for it, but you both know he doesn’t care. It almost feels intimate to him, sharing something of his with you and only with you. His brothers will tease him for it later, but all that matters to him is seeing the way your face lights up as he pushes his plate towards you.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who claims your music taste is lame, but will make a playlist of his favorites that you’ll play and listen to it on his late night rides.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who has carved your initials into the underside of his board. He covers it with a sticker, knowing if his brothers found it he’d be cooked. But he hopes that one day he won’t have to hide it anymore.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who is consistently trying to impress you. Whether it’s with a new trick he learned, a photo his brothers took of him, or whatever it ended up being. He feels like he doesn’t have much to offer, so he tries to impress you by being cool.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who can’t sleep on the nights when you’re not available, his thoughts eating away at him as he lies awake in bed. Tossing and turning, groaning as he looks at the alarm clock to see that only ten minutes have passed since the last time he checked. He hates it, he wants you there with him. He felt so empty and alone without you there.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who never forgets a special occasion, no matter how small and insignificant it may seem to others. From birthdays, to holidays, to National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day, Chris remembers every day that is important to you.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who can tease you and mess with you, but would knock anyone else out if they tried doing the same.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who talks about you to his mother so much, she is convinced you’re both married with three children. A boy doesn’t just randomly swoon over a girl for hours to his mother on the phone. “She told me the funniest story the other night when she stayed over-“ “She stayed over again? What is that, four times this week?” “…..anyways, she-“

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who has a raccoon brain and will see something shiny or cute and just has to bring it to you. “A…spoon?” “A tiny spoon! And it has a little pink bow on the end, see!”

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who loves coming over to your house. He swears on his life it’s just because of the atmosphere, but you know it’s because of your pets. He never forgets to greet them upon arrival, and always says (a very lengthy) farewell before he leaves.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who spends six long torturous hours trying to write you a cute note or a poem. His trashcan piled high with drafts that he crumpled and tossed away, because he wanted it to be perfect. You deserved perfect.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who complains when you beg him to let you do his makeup, but secretly loves having you so close to him. The comfortable silence, the brief eye contact, the way you gently dab and brush the different products onto his face. The tightening feeling in his stomach as you lean closer, making sure to be extra gentle around his eyes. He would never admit it in a million years, but part of him wants to ask you to do his makeup every time you come over.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who sends you a fit check every. single. day.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who sends you pictures of the animal friends he makes on the nights he goes out skating with his friends.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who cusses often, except when you invite him over to your place. He tends to watch his language when he’s over, not wanting to ‘influence the children’, in reference to your pets.

Reblog divider by @adornedwithlight

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[star-xxx1]

Sticky situations 18+

Ex!Natasha Romanoff x Crazy!Fem!Reader

Warnings: G!p Natasha, Dub-con, guns, blow jobs, overstim, begging, love bites.

A/n: Not proofread, sorry, but enjoy <3.

Natasha groaned, slowly coming to and regaining her senses. Her body stung all over, especially her neck, arms, and ankles. The sensation of wetness covered her neck; a weight sat on her lap. Her mind struggled to make sense of it all, to recall the seconds before she awoke from what felt like a deep, deep sleep. Only moments ago, she was on a mission; now she was so confused. She opened her eyes and looked around, taking in her surroundings cautiously. She looked down and saw you. Her ex-girlfriend.

Straddled on her lap, passionately marking up her neck like a tally in game, each mark was a mark of possession. Seeing you, her brain finally made the connection of the strange feeling on her neck. She groaned. She didn't even have to look know that you've made her whole neck a mess. Trying to pull away, you looked up at the sudden moment. "Natty, baby, Hi," you said sweetly, wiping the slobber around your mouth. "Mh." She grunted, You moved to kiss her pretty lips, but she pulled away.

"Y/n what the fuck!?" She said, trying to pull her arms up but all she was met with is tightness and resistance. Her arms and legs were tied. She looked up at you. "What are you trying to do?" The redhead barked at you. "Natty, please, I really need you. I'm needy and horny and I miss you." You whine to her.

"Not my problem." Natasha hissed. "But it is, I'm your sweet girl, after all? Like you said, I am and always will be." Your hand coming up to hold her soft cheek.

Natasha spat on your gentle face, her saliva landing right on your cheek and sidling down. Natasha watched as you wipped it up and lick it straight off your fingers and giggled. "Mhhh, spitting? wanna spit in my mouth next?"

"Oh fuck off y/n, get off me!" She said squirming unneath you. "Natty, baby, why are you resisting your girlfriend?" You pouted at her getting upset. "You're not my girlfriend anymore! For fuck sakes Y/n how times do I have tell, stop calling me! Stop texting me! Stop showing up everywhere -"

You covered her precious mouth, the barrel of a gun pressing firmly stomach. "Natasha, we're together," You took a deep breath, eyes holding strong emotions staring deep into her eyes, your grip tightening on her beautiful mouth, "We didn't break up!" You shouted. "Yes, we did!" Her protest coming out muffled. "You crazy bitch!"

"I will fucking shoot you!" You screamed getting, upset. "Straight in the stomach and you can bleed out alone and fuck off into hell." You yelled, the sound of you stressed voice echoing through the empty warehouse. She didn't flinch, but it shut her up. Natasha knew there was no way out, no matter what she did. You would find her, how the fuck can such a small girl find a highly skilled spy so easily? She tried so hard, but you were just everywhere, even in her dreams, haunting her, begging her for her to come back, sobbing screaming. You were obsessed, digustingly, and deep-seatedly in love. She was bound to you.

"Natasha." You said, looking into her pricing eyes. "Look, I'm sorry, baby, you just know how i get when it comes to you." You kissed her forehead. She didn't look impressed at all. You removed your hand from her mouth. You waited for an answer, expecting her to forgive you immediately like she usually did. But nothing, just a cold stare. Your lips pressed together, waiting.

"I think you've forgot how much I need you, how much I love you." Your hands trail down her suit. "Mabye, I have to remind you." Natasha's body stiffened as you started touching her your hands trailing down, but she couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine. She gritted her teeth, trying to resist your advances. "Don't you dare touch me."

You grabbed Natashas dick squeezing it from outside the suit. "Baby, don't you like when I do this?" You squeezed and rubbed her clothed cock. Natashas jaw tightened as you touched her cock, little groans escape her mouth at the sensation of your manicured hands squeezing and adding pressure, it gree harder and harder. "Y/n." Natasha said.

"Yes natty?" You chimed.

"Get off." You ingored her, slipping out a pocket knife out her weapon belt. You cut and sliced through her suit and boxers. Her body shivered with arousal as her thick, long cock sprang free from its confines, pre cum splattering on her stomach. It was so hard, so needy it needed to be dealt with immediately. "Mhh, baby, I miss you." You whispered, kissing her cheek. "Y/n." She whimpered, your soft hand wrapped around her cock, it was hot, throbbing.

She will admit, she did miss everything about you, she regretted leaving. She missed her old amazing sex life, not her current one, which was filled with so many different sex toys. She refused to let other people touch her in a sexual manner. It felt wrong. It felt like she was betraying you.

You got off her lap, settling in between her strong legs. You kissed her cock, rubbing your face all over her veiny shaft. "See im still your good girl."

Her breathing becomes heavy as she watches you on your knees. She bites her lip and starts to respond to your teasing. "Fuck you. don't do that."

You kissed her senstive pink tip. Her body shudders as she feels your lips against her cock. She gasps loudly, her back arching off the chair slightly. Despite her resistance, her hips start to move involuntarily, grinding against your face. "Don't. don't."

"Baby, just admit you want a blow job." You teased her. "I don't. I can't." Her words are punctuated by moans as she tries to resist the pleasure but fails miserably. Her hips continue to grind against your face, her cock leaking pre-cum onto your lips. You stared up at her, kitten licking her tip. "Beg, baby."

"Please, don't..." She whimpers out the word, her body shaking with desire. Despite herself, she can't help but push her hips forward slightly, offering more of her cock to your mouth. "I- I want you to suck me off... please."

"That's it, baby." You took her throbbing cock into her mouth. Your voice comes out muffled. "Come on, move, you always told me to work for it." You smirked. Natasha's eyes close as she feels your mouth close around her cock. She tries to pull away, but the sensation is too much for her to resist. She moans loudly, her hips bucking against your face as you tease her by not moving. "Baby,please, please, suck it." She begged. You didn't bugged. "I'm begging you!" Natasha cries out, her voice strained with desire. Her hips buck wildly against your face, seeking the release she craves. "Please need you to suck my cock."

"Please, fuck" Natasha body trembles with need as she continues to beg, her voice filled with desperation. Her cock throbs against your lips, leaking pre-cum onto your tongue. "I'll do anything. Just suck me off."

You shook head no. "Please!" Her Protest turns into a moan of frustration as she feels herself on the edge of orgasm without release. Her hips jerk forward, pressing her cock against your mouth, pleading for you to take her. "Please." After awhile wildly thrusting her thick cock into your warm mouth, her moans fill the room as her body shudders with ecstasy, her hips bucking violently against your face. Cum pours into your mouth, sweet and salty on your tongue. She pants and groans as she does a few extra hard thrusts. You look at your girlfriend, eyes screwing shut in pleasure forehead dripping with sweat. You started sucking her off. "O-oh..." Her eyes flutter open, surprised by the sudden change in sensation. Despite her initial resistance, she can't help but whimper as you start sucking on her sensitive, still hard cock, your pretty lips wrapping around her dick. "Holy shit." She bites her lip to keep from screaming out as she feels your hot mouth engulfing her entire massive cock. Her fingers dig into the chaie holding tight as she loses control to the pleasure you've unleashed. "Fuck."

Your head bopped up and down fast, gagging noise echoing as you deepthroated so her into your tight throat. Tears ran down your precious face, making her down wild, your mascara running down you rosy cheeks. Gripped her thighs, letting her fuck you face, her hips wildly thrusting, stomach tightening.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck..." Natasha's words become incoherent, babbling about how good it was, as she approaches her second orgasm. Natasha looked like she was going insane, body lifting of the chair, only to be met with restraints her loud whinpers and moans of pleasure, toes curling in her heavy combat boots, eyes rolled back, head thrown back, she panted like a dog in heat. It was sloppy and wet, cum and slavia dripping down your chin and all down her thighs.

Natasha's orgasm crashes over her, her body trembling as she releases all of her pent-up tension into your mouth. Her cock twitches and spurts, filling your throat with warm cum. You swallowed it like a good girl, not wasting a drop.

"Fuck, y/n." She whimpered. You let go off her soaked cock with loud pop. You came up and sat on her lap, getting the knife, and and cutting her restraints. You hugged her tightly. "See, I said you needed reminding."

"Yes, baby." She kissed your cheek, hugging you back.

"Natty." Your voice broke. "Mh, baby?" She mutter. "Please don't go again," she pulled away to look into your eyes, filled with vulnerability and weakness. Without her, you were lost, nothing, you need to be guided by her, only her.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry, so so so sorry." She voiced love. "I won't ever again, promise." You kissed her deeply. She could tasted herself on your tongue.

"You are my good girl, forever." she smirked. You smiled down at her.

"I love you natty, so much," you said.

"Love you way more." She kissed you again, wrapping her arms tight around you.

She did, and she was sorry, so very sorry for hurting you, she promise to make it up to you. She would do anything for you, anything.

Comments would be appreciated <3333

[nathaslosthershit]

Pour one out this patriotic weekend for Logan Sargeant 🫡

He’s not dead but Williams is making him drive a livery with a Union Jack on it during 4th of July weekend so he might as well be 😞

[nats-revival]

nsfw ! — thinking about ex!ellie with a marking kink. she just couldnt help herself when you ended up back at her place. and obviously youve been with other people since her, but she fucking hated the thought, loathed it even. shes fucking you so good (the both of you knew this but youd never tell her this), her strap hitting your g-spot has your eyes rolling.

ellie wouldve been holding you close while sinking her teeth into any part of your body she could. your neck, your shoulders, your collarbone. it feels like shes all over you all at once. shes grunting softly while shes listening to those oh so pretty noises she enjoys so much. she sinks her teeth into your skin one more time for good measure while you’re on the brink of your orgasm. it was hard enough to draw blood, and she laps it up with no problem. while you’re cumming for her, she smiles, but it wasnt a content one.

she admires her work for a second, running her hand across the marks while you were catching your breath. “i wonder how long itll take before you come running back to me again after saying youre ’done with me’.” she jeers, making you roll your eyes.

aestras notes: i will not be elaborating on this until further notice. 😇 i didnt proofread this too much so please dont kill me if theres grammatical errors. 💔💔 writing to you while i am also not wearing my effing glasses!!!!! i hope it was good at least tho xx. rbs/comments r appreciated cause im def chronically online and will respond in like thirty seconds!! 😜

[whytheylosttheirminds]

blue sweater - r.c.

(season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader blurb, 2.4k words)

content smut, p in v, this gorgeous man and his afformentioned blue sweater, 18+ minors do not interact!!

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You’d fallen asleep on the couch, waiting up for him again. You didn’t fault Rafe for working so hard, you just miss him so fucking much when he’s in back-to-back meetings all day. 

The couch dips below you, pulling you from your dreams. A large, warm presence settles next to you on the sofa. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know it’s him.

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily, eyes still closed.

He’s smirking down at you, you know him so well you can picture exactly how he looks without actually seeing him. 

“Hi,” he leans forward, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek. “I’m sorry, that last meeting ran so long.”

Finally opening your eyes to meet his, you’re almost startled by the sight. Somehow, in the dim evening light, they’re more deeply blue and beautiful than ever.

“Nice sweater,” you say, reaching up to run your fingers along the hard edge of his shoulder. Even though he looks so soft and pretty right now, he’s tense, and you wish you could ease the worry that furrows his brow.

He smiles knowingly, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling in the cute way that makes your heart ache for him.

“Thanks, my girlfriend got it for me.”

“She has good taste,” you joke as your run your hand gently up and down his bicep, the soft fabric such a contrast to the hard muscle below. 

“Yeah, she’s all kinds of good,” he winks.

“Then why’d you make her wait for you all night?” You pout, sticking out your bottom lip so he’d know you’re just teasing.

“I said I’m sorrrrry,” he whines as he leans over you more, adjusting to bring his legs onto the couch. You make room for him instinctually, his body fitting into yours like you were designed for each other. 

He lets his full weight down slowly, sinking you both deep into the cushions. Nuzzling his head into your neck, he drags his lips against the skin below your ear so gently, it sends goosebumps racing across your skin. He can feel your excitement and starts kissing you more firmly, leaving little wet spots up the column of your throat.

Your hands splay out over his big, firm back, rubbing circles into the tight muscles. You press deep, working out his stress, and he groans at your firm touch. Your hands work slowly down his back, pressing as you go. When you reach the hem of his sweater, you slip your hands underneath. Rafe flinches at your touch, a shudder running through him.

“Your hands are cold!” He exclaims, his voice muffled.

“Oh sorry, love!” you start to pull them away, but he reaches his arm behind him and pins your palms to his skin.

“No, it feels nice, don’t stop.”

You obey, the pads of your fingers digging little figure eights into his lower back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“What’s got you so stressed baby, hmm?” You ask.

“Just got too much going on,” he shakes his head so his buzzed hair tickles your earlobe. You giggle at the sensation, his head rising and falling with the shake of your chest.

“Poor baby,” you coo, making him smile against you. “Just need a little help to relax?”

Rafe nods against you, moving slightly to lay his head against your chest so you can run your nails along his head like you know he likes. You bring one hand up, the other still under his shirt, the motion making you open your legs wider so you can stretch. He slots between them perfectly, and when you drag your nails over the fuzzy hairs right at the nape of his neck, you can feel him twitch against your core, already half hard.

“Someone’s needy,” you hum, delighted that you can make him so hot just by touching him tenderly like this. “Want me to make you forget all about your bad day?”

“Please,” he groans into your collarbone, pressing his hips down harder so you can feel him fully against you now. Your wetness pools immediately, soaking through your panties as you arch your back and return the pressure. 

“Shit, baby, that’s so nice,” he praises.

“‘I’ve been waiting for this all day,” you confess.

“Then we better not make you wait any longer.”

Swiftly, he lifts his head from your chest and finds your lips with his. It’s hungry and sloppy, the wet skin of his lower lip sliding against yours as your mouths collide. You’re fully grinding up into him now, and there is nothing semi-soft about him, his hard cock threatening to rip the seams of his pants. You writhe, desperate to feel his length. You know it like the back of your hand, picturing his perfect cock clearly as you rock against it. You’ve got every vein, every throbbing, pink inch memorized. 

“Take your pants off,” you breathe into his open mouth.

With a cocky grin that makes you impossibly wetter he drawls, “now who’s needy, huh?”

You roll your eyes and reach for his waistband, if he’s gonna be an ass about it you’ll just do it yourself. He mirrors you, undressing you with the same shaky fervor. Your shirt goes first, he’s delighted to see you’ve opted for no bra. In the cold evening air, your nipples harden immediately, and he can see the goosebumps spreading across your torso. 

“Ohh baby, you really are freezing.”

“Mhm,” you nod, lip pulled between your teeth. “Warm me up, Rafe.”

A throaty groan rises from his chest as he takes over your work on his pants, ripping them off as best he can without standing, his boxers following. You slip your thumbs under your shorts, doubling up to slide your panties down with them until you’re bare for him. Only one piece of clothing remains between you, the soft blue sweater you bought for him. He starts to pull it off, but you stop him, your hand wrapping around his wrist.

“No, leave it on,” you instruct.

“Whatever you want, angel,” he smirks at your unusual request, but obliges without complaint.

He lays down on you again, his lips hovering over yours as he lets his cock press into your inner thigh. He’s so hard you gasp, inhaling sharply at the sweet pressure against your leg. He kisses you again, more tenderly this time, like he’s trying to imprint the taste of you onto his tongue. As he lets his weight settle on you, the soft threads of his sweater rub over your sensitive nipples, the sensation making your eyes squeeze shut and a strained moan echo from your chest.

“Y’okay?” He asks.

“It feels so g-good,” you croak out.

“What does, baby?”

You blush, feeling silly for it, but something about the soft material against your hardened skin is so delicious, you’re sure your pussy is dripping onto the couch by now. 

A little embarrassed, you admit, “the sweater on my tits feels really good.”

“It does?” He questions, amused.

“Just stay on me baby, don’t stop.”

You and Rafe have been known to argue about almost anything, but he never argues when you tell him how to make you feel good. He flattens his chest against you fully, rutting his dick against your leg, causing his chest to rub against yours as requested. Your head falls back into the throw pillows. You let him continue to move you both until you almost can’t stand the friction anymore.

“I love that,” you whimper, eyes still squeezed shut. “But I need you inside.”

“Can’t wait any longer, huh?” He chuckles. Once again, you don’t need to see him to know what he looks like, his eyebrows are surely arched high and his lips quirked to the side as he looks at you in amusement.

“Rafe I’ve been waiting for like twelve hours,” you complain.

“I know, baby, I know,” he quells you. “I got you, alright?”

Propped on one arm, his sweater leaves your chest for a moment so he can line himself up at your soaked entrance. You wait with closed eyes, bracing for impact as you know it will take a minute to adjust to his size, it always does. But he doesn’t enter you, just grumbles with annoyance as he shuffles above you.

Your quizzical eyes open to find him fumbling with the collar of his sweater, preparing to pull it off.

“What’s the problem?”

“I want to see you, but this fucking sweater’s in the way,” he explains. You lift your head and look down to where your bodies should be meeting to see the hem of his sweater hanging in the way, blocking the view. “I’m just gonna take it off.”

“Nuh-uh!” you object. 

“Baby,” he whines.

A solution comes to you, causing you to break into a wide grin.

“Open up,” you say, and he’s never looked more confused.

But then, you reach down and pull the hem of the sweater between your fingers, making his stomach flinch as you brush against it. You lift the hem up to his mouth, revealing the sight of his dick dangerously close to your entrance. He puzzles it together, and teasingly rolls his eyes before letting you place it between his teeth. He bites down on it obediently, considering a protest before looking down to see he now has a perfect angle to his favorite sight in the world.

It feels so good when he finally slides in, stretching you so deliciously and filling you like only he can, that you almost actually cry. He moves gently, considerate enough to know there’s probably an edge of pain to your pleasure.

“You don’t have to go slow,” you assure him. “Take your stress out on me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He tries to sound cocky, but it’s muffled from the fabric between his teeth.

The way his jaw clenches in frustration makes you giggle. Rafe usually does most of the talking, knowing the sound of his low voice in your ear makes you come so much faster.

“I’ll do the talking, just focus on my voice while you fuck me, m’kay?” You purr.

He nods in agreement, picking up the pace until he’s rocking into you, continuously hitting the perfect spot that makes you both shudder with pleasure. He’s going so hard you have to lift your arm above you and steady yourself against the arm of the couch. His eyes flit between the sight of you taking him in so perfectly and the way your tits bounce with each thrust.

You keep your promise to talk him through it, starting with, “just like that, Rafe- mmmph- feels so good. God, I can feel you so deep.”

His brows furrow in concentration, thrusting harder, desperate to drag more praises from your kiss-chapped lips. Your eyes train on the veins in his neck, throbbing with effort. You reach your other hand up and grab his chin, pulling his face so his eyes pierce yours.

“Shit, you look so good, fucking me like you needed to,” you cry.

As much as he loves the eye-contact, he’s still wearing this stupid sweater for a reason, and he needs to remind you. He matches you by placing his hand on your face, soft but firm, and directing your gaze down to see him pistoning into you.

“Oh my god, that’s so hot,” you smile, admiring the creamy mess you’re making on his shaft. “You’re fucking covered in me, baby. Made me so wet comin’ in here looking this good.”

He removes his hand from your head, looking for a non-verbal way to thank you for your compliments. He presses his thumb to your tongue, and you don’t need words to know what he’s doing. You get it nice and wet, swirling spit around his thumb with your tongue. Once it’s ready, he lowers it to your clit, rubbing back and forth a few times before forming steady circles.

“Ah- fuck- yes, Rafe that’s so-” Your commitment to keep talking falters as pleasure floods your mind, robbing you of your voice.

He knows what you need, he always knows what you need. He pulls your hand from his chin and places it on his chest, you bunch the fabric of his sweater so he can release it from his teeth.

“There ya go,” he coos. “Need me to talk you through it, huh?”

You nod desperately, confirming what he already knew.

“Couldn’t even concentrate in my meetings,” he begins, panting with the effort he’s putting in, not letting up his pace. “Thinkin’ about you here waiting for me, walking around the house in those little shorts. How am I supposed to close deals when I can’t stop thinking about bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking this perfect pussy, huh?”

His words have exactly the effect he was hoping for, you are beside yourself, moaning and squirming beneath him. Letting out the sweetest little “oh, oh, ohs” as his cock rocks your whole body. He's losing tempo, both of you nearing the edge. You bring your other fist up to bunch his sweater, too, grasping so tightly you're afraid you're gonna tear it. You clench around him as he keeps talking.

“That’s it, baby, squeeze me as hard as you can - fuck!” He's unraveling, needing to find the words to get you there so he didn’t finish first. “Fuck, that’s my good girl.”

Just as he expected, that’s what finally did it for you. You cry out his name as sparks exploded in your tummy, coming so hard you have to bury your face into his chest to keep from screaming. He follows behind you almost immediately, his hot cum spurting into you as his primal groans and grunts echo through the room.

A few minutes later, you’re cleaned up and cuddled in his bed, now wrapped up in his sweater, the stretched-out fabric engulfing you. He smirks as his hands run over the material, rubbing over your stomach and waist lovingly.

“Might have to wear this thing every day if that’s how you’re gonna react,” he teases you.

“Uh-huh,” you giggle. “Good luck getting it back.”

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a/n: omg i'm so sorry I just literally couldn't not, the chokehold this sweater has on me is unnatural like y'all don't even need to read this it was just a passion project for me. all hail Blue Sweater.

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Wanda and Maria on a mission with some of the others

Wanda: Yeah my girlfriend is scary she’s a demon from hell and will kick all your asses!

Meanwhile at home

Y/n wearing a penguin onesie watching doctor who and cuddling a lamb plushie: I think Wanda’s telling some bad guys how dangerous I am again

Nat also wearing a penguin onesie eating a PBaJ sandwich: Oh? How’d you know that?

Demon!Y/n: My fangs are tingling and that means trouble

Back at the base

Maria: And my girlfriend is a badass assassin who could kill you with a spoon

At the house

Nat: Oh god

Demon!Y/n: it happened didn’t it

Nat sighing: Yeah

Demon!Y/n: Which body part tingled?

Nat: My left breast

Demon!Y/n: What?

Nat: That’s where Maria leaves the most hickeys so whenever she talks about me that’s where it tingles

Demon!Y/n: huh interesting I leave Wanda with fang marks a lot so maybe that’s why they tingle. Anyway we should probably get dressed if they’re talking about us, we’ll be summoned soon

Nat: But this episode is great!

Demon!Y/n: We’ll watch it later I promise

Nat: We better do!

[romanovthinkver]

⚠️ we need to protect scarlett ⚠️

apparently it got out that scarlett has been stalked by a freak guy from LA since august 2022. the man thinks he’s scarlett’s second child real father. he knows where she lives and she left at her house letters and other items. scarlett and her lawyer asked the court a restrictive order, but they didn’t gave to her.

report and block the guy on his socials profiles and be mindful of putting specific locations of scarlett’s next events, he stalks related fan profiles and fanpages to get as much information to reach her.

im gonna link some useful posts of scarlett’s fanpage about this news and who to report.

article link

main profile of the men other profiles of him and others

what happened to scarlett pt 2 pt 3

be mindful you guys, let’s team up to protect scarlett as much as we can. spread the word and let’s take action to report this man. stay safe out there.

🚨VERY IMPORTANT UPDATE 🚨

scarlett’s publicist is asking fans for HELP. apparently everyone is so worried for this guy and this is getting too serious. people are telling he is now in NEW YORK, so we better move up. he changes his plates, phone numbers, accounts, location and everything to not be found by the police. we have to report him immediately as it’s too much dangerous. please let’s be united to make sure scarlett and her family are safe.

in case you are in new york and see him call the police immediately.

if you see something suspicious on the internet please contact the twitter user “keeping up with scarlett” as she is directly in contact with scarlett publicist, if can’t tell me and i report to the twt account.

keep blocking and report his profiles on every social. (twt, instagram, facebook, tumblr, tik tok etc.)

please he follows her on insta so we can start there to track him down, scarlett deserves better than this. he is currently in the hamptons following his last update.

scarlett’s publicist words.

the man last update.

his tumblr account.

[ncis-nerd]

Breaking Point

older!nat x reader

warnings: anxiety, sleeping problems, mentally exhausted, crying, hints of mental illness?, age difference, petnames, spilled water, arguing, wet clothes, burnout?

grey november au

"And I think we have space in our budget to do such a thing" Tony shrugged. You had another meeting and the earth's mightiest heroes could not agree upon how they wanted to spend the extra money they had.

You sighed softly, waiting for something solid so you could go back to note-taking. Natasha's eyes fell on you, after listening to Tony and Steve's back and forth.

"You okay" She mouthed, seeing your eyes drop. You were so tired, your anxiety had been worse lately and you couldn't sleep. Scratch that, you wanted to sleep but you were so busy with other work.

"I think we should take 5 before we have another situation guys.." Natasha side eyed Steve. "Hey! It wasn't my genius idea to use the metal suits" Steve rolled his eyes at Tony. Tony shrugged and said "sure, I could go for some water. Y/n?" His eyes fell on you.

Silence. "Yeah, can you get some for me and y/n too, please?" Natasha spoke up.

It was just you and Natasha in the room when she came over to you. She bent down, to your level to meet your gaze. "Dove?" Natasha spoke softly, the feeling of concern hinted in her voice.

"talia' m so tired.." you whimpered, raising your teary eyes to meet hers. It hurt her to see you in such distress. "Oh detka.." Natasha sighed, wrapping her arms around yours.

"I know you have sleeping problems.. Maybe we can talk to Bruce about that? Get you on sleeping pills?" Natasha spoke carefully, not sure on where you stood about on taking meds.

You nodded; you were open to just about anything because you were reaching to your breaking point. That is if, we weren't there already.

Natasha's fingers found its place in your hair, scratching your scalp softly.

__

Tony and Steve walked back into the room, both men holding 2 overfilled glasses of water. They walked very slow, attempting to not spill any.

You were sitting next to Natasha when they returned, neither men commented on this. Instead, they took their seats. Tony began to speak "Y/N? Remind me, where did we leave off?" Your eyes glanced at the notes on your computer. "Metal suits? The budget, we were brainstorming on what the spend the money on" You spoke softly, Natasha rested her hand on your thigh as a measure to comfort you and let you know she is here.

"Ah yes, the budget! As I was saying, I need some money for spare parts!" Tony exclaimed. Steve butted in "You already have a bunch of suits, how much more could you possibly need? " Steve huffed. As the two continued to argue, you picked up your cup to take a sip of water. Unfortunately it was filled to the max and you ended up spilling it all over you.

This caught the attention of Steve and Tony, distracting them from their argument. "I-" You stuttered. "And this concludes the end of the meeting. Steve, Tony, lets maybe not spend the whole meeting arguing next time?" Natasha jumped in, dismissing the tow men.

Steve and Tony left the conference room first. Before you could tear up, Natasha took your hand and let you to her room. "I think you need a warm, smoothing bath, babe. You need to relax, I'll run the bath and prep everything. Is that okay, dove?" Natasha spoke softly, her eyes meeting yours. You nodded.

taglist: @ssa-shaylam @madamevirgo @radcherryblossompainter @midastouch013 @dumbasslesbi @krystallevine @ellieromanov @fxckmiup @viosblog112-

part 2?

[incorrectwandanat]

natasha, wearing a very dark grey instead of black:

reader: i see you're busting out the spring colors.