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theostrophywife · 3 months

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poison paradise.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: toxic by omido.

author's note: smutty unhinged theo won the poll. here’s your silly little treat. this came to me in a dream proving that even my subconscious isn't safe from theodore. this is pure filth, but ya'll already know that that's what i do best 🤪

The taste of cherry chapstick lingered on your tongue as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Lost in euphoria, you cried out just as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, dragging you to the depths of sensual self-indulgence.

Back arching off the bed. Fingers gripping the sheets. Moans echoing off the walls.

This was hedonism at its finest.

The heady scent of sweat, skin, and sex permeated in the air long after your orgasm passed, inducing you into a foggy haze as you scrambled to anchor yourself back to the present. Between your legs, your girlfriend lifted her head up with a pleased smirk and pressed a chaste kiss against your lips.

The kiss tasted like cum and cherries, a sweet and intoxicating combination that sent your head spinning. Hannah hummed, her pretty doe eyes focused on you while your own fluttered open.

“Babe, I’ve really got to get to practice now,” she whispered softly. “I’m late enough as it is.”

You chuckled, twirling a strand of her red hair between your fingers. “Whose fault is that? You’re the one who dragged me in here, love.”

Hannah grinned sheepishly as she pulled your red and gold skirt down. “Can you blame me? I can’t control myself when you’re strutting about in your cheer uniform.”

“Then go out there and give me something to cheer about, babe. I expect a win against Slytherin tomorrow.”

“If Potter doesn’t kill me first for being late,” she said with a final kiss to your cheek. “See you after practice?”

You nodded as you tossed her jersey over. “I’ll be here.”

After taking a much needed shower, you sat in front of the vanity and blasted music as you diligently adhered to your skincare routine. The best thing about having a girlfriend was that you shared everything. Since dating Hannah, your makeup, clothes, and shoe options doubled overnight.

As you combed through your hair, a sudden knock at the door caught your attention. You figured it was just a courtesy from Hannah’s roommate. Merlin knows that the poor witch had walked in on you and your girlfriend in countless compromising positions.

Tightening the scarlet robe around your waist, you sauntered over to the door, fully expecting Emma to greet you from the other side. Instead, a looming figure eclipsed the doorway. You were surprised to find none other than Theodore Nott staring back at you.

While you two weren’t exactly the best of friends given the rivalry between your houses, you and Theo were civil. You sat beside each other in Herbology and occasionally shared a laugh every time you caught him muttering sarcastic remarks under his breath about the ridiculous bloody plants that Professor Sprout had you wrangling during class.

“Well, what do we have here?” you teased, cocking your head at the dead eyed Slytherin. “A serpent in the lion’s den? What brings you behind enemy lines, Theo?”

Theo smiled back in response, shuffling a bit and allowing a glimpse of the wine bottle and bouquet of roses cradled in his arms. “Waiting for my girlfriend to leave so I can set this up for our anniversary.”

You grinned. “Oh, how romantic!” You had always been a sucker for cheesy gestures. It was the hopeless romantic in you. “Come in, then.”

To his credit, Theo kept his eyes firmly on your face as you ushered him inside the room. Taking the hint, you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom and changed into something a little less revealing than your silk robe. When you came out, Theo was sprinkling rose petals on the bed.

“Those are gorgeous,” you fawned over the flowers. “You’re definitely getting laid tonight.”

Theo smirked in response as he set the vintage wine bottle into a fancy crystal ice bucket. “That’s the plan.”

Slipping into your fuzzy slippers, you cocked your head at the arrangement. “Wait. I think you set it up on the wrong side. Emma’s bed is over there.”

Theo nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah, I know. This is for Hannah.”

Whatever warm, fuzzy feeling his sweet gesture invoked suddenly soured at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. “What do you mean it’s for Hannah?”

“Hannah,” Theo repeated slowly. “As in, my girlfriend, Hannah.”

The words hit you like the Hogwarts Express. Surely, Theo was mistaken. He had to be. That was the only explanation. “This can’t be right. I’m sure I heard you wrong. You can’t be dating Hannah.”

The confusion in your face was mirrored in Theo’s features. “And why is that?”

“Because I’m dating Hannah.”

Theo stared at you. You stared back. The room fell silent as the declaration hung heavy in the air.

“Wait,” he backtracked, furrowing his brows. “What? That’s not possible.”

“We’ve been dating since term started.”

“We’ve been dating since summer,” Theo countered. Disbelief dawned over his handsome features. “This is for our three month anniversary.”

Desperate to make sense of the situation, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your photo album. It didn’t take long to find a recent picture of you and Hannah. “See?” you said, pointing at the screen. “This is us sharing a hot fudge sundae in Hogsmeade just last weekend.”

Theo’s mouth gaped open as he pulled out his phone in response, scrolling through his pictures just as you had done moments ago. “This is us swimming in the lake last July.”

The photo of your girlfriend smiling up at the camera while Theo’s arms wrapped around her bikini clad body made your stomach plummet. The confirmation left a bitter taste on your tongue. There was no reason for Theo to be making this up, which left only one possible conclusion. Hannah was dating both of you. At the same time.

You pursed your lips. “Hannah played us both.”

Theo looked about as dejected as you felt. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it,” he muttered to himself.

“All that tension between you during the quidditch match,” you recalled. The lingering looks that Hannah and Theo shared during last month’s scrimmage flashed before your very eyes. In hindsight, it was obvious that there was more to it than rivalry.

“You know, I think I saw her kiss you on the cheek in the halls once, but she said that the two of you were just really close.”

“Oh, we are,” you said rather bitterly. “She’s kissed a lot more than my cheeks. Gods, how could I have been so stupid?”

“You’re not stupid,” Theo said softly. “How could we have known? Outside of Herbology, the two of us don’t really interact. We’re in different houses and our social circles rarely overlap. If you think about it, it’s actually the perfect plan.”

“Yes, bravo to our girlfriend for being the cleverest fucking liar in the castle.” You winced at the title. "Correction, ex-girlfriend."

Nott nodded in agreement. "Definitely ex-girlfriend."

"What a bloody mess."

Theo rubbed his temples. “Well, fuck.” The sentiment of total and utter confusion was one you knew all too well. “I am way too sober for this.”

Without a word, he swiped the bottle of wine from the crystal bucket and popped it open. You stared at him with slight bewilderment, which he responded to with a nonchalant shrug. “What? It’s not like I’m going to drink this with Hannah now after I found out that she’s been lying to me for three whole months.”

While Theo was taking the perfectly understandable approach of getting absolutely pissed off his arse, you weren’t willing to take the hit so easily. You were angry. Correction, you were fucking livid. Seething in the heat of your fury, you snatched the wine bottle from Theo’s grasp and chugged a good amount.

“That’s a vintage from my family’s vineyard. You’re supposed to sip slowly to really appreciate the flavor—“ Theo grimaced as you leveled him with a glare. “Or drown yourself in it. That’s fine, too.”

You swayed on your feet as you gestured dramatically. “I can’t believe she cheated on me!”

Who the fuck did Hannah think she was? You didn’t need this bullshit. She was the one who chased after you. Before she pursued you, you were perfectly fine ruling this school under your thumb, flashing pretty smiles and innocent doe eyed looks to the unsuspecting masses. You were head cheerleader, for fuck’s sake! You could’ve had your pick of boys and girls in this whole bloody castle. Even worse, Hannah dragged Theo into this too. While the Slytherins certainly had a reputation, he seemed sweet if not a little sardonic and cynical at times.

”I can’t believe she cheated on you.” You added, surveying the now tainted roses and wine. Indignation weighed heavily on every word. You and Theo were both hot as fuck and a complete catch. Neither of you deserved this. “We can’t let her get away with this.”

Theo sighed in response, taking the bottle from you and drinking a decent amount before wiping his wine stained lips with the back of his hand. “If I’m being honest, this isn’t the first time a relationship has imploded on me. Usually, it’s my fault. But I can’t say I’ve ever gotten cheated on. My ego’s taken a little bit of a blow, but what can we do? She fooled us both.”

“What can we do?” You repeated incredulously. “Obviously, you haven’t dealt with a Gryffindor’s wrath before. This is a matter of pride, Theo. She hit us where it hurts the most. I say we hit her back.”

Theo blanched, his watercolor eyes glazed from the alcohol. The wine was no joke. You never would’ve known it from the smooth taste, but this shit was strong. “As upset as I am, I hardly think violence is the answer. My mum told me to never raise a hand against a lady and I don’t intend on breaking that promise. No matter how angry I may be.”

For the first time in that fucked up night, you managed a laugh. Something about that was so endearing to you. “Relax, Nott. I don’t mean we hurt her physically. That’s not really my style. I have a much more effective way to enact revenge.” Your lips curled into a smile as Theo hung onto every word. “We’re going to wage psychological warfare on our ex-girlfriend, Theo.”

“I’ll confess I’m a little bit scared,” Theo declared as he gulped down the last of the wine. “And a little bit turned on. Guess that says a lot about me, huh?”

You smirked as you retrieved the wine bottle and gingerly set it on the nightstand. Theo glanced up at you curiously, anticipation evident on his handsome face. “What exactly is the plan, dolcezza?”

Whether it was the alcohol or your anger, a devious plan started forming as you looked over your ex-girlfriend’s now ex-boyfriend. “Hannah comes back from practice in an hour,” you stated, toying with the neck of the bottle. “She’s expecting to find me in bed waiting for her.”

Mischief danced in Theo’s eyes. Up close, you could see flecks of green swimming in his blue irises. Those mesmerizing eyes—the very same ones that had the entire castle weak in the knees—locked on yours. Now that you were single through no fault of your own, you had no reason not to ogle Theo and ogle you did. Your gaze flickered over his lean physique, examining his solid chest and broad shoulders before snagging on the sliver of skin that revealed the hard abdominal muscles beneath his light grey shirt as he stretched. A cocky smirk graced his handsome face when he caught you looking.

Merlin, he was fucking pretty.

How had you not noticed that before? Oh, right. You were too busy being a good girlfriend. Well, fuck that.

“Oh?” He murmured, his gaze flickering over you.

Though you changed into a baggy shirt and cotton shorts, you might as well have been naked with the way Theo was looking at you. His dead eyed stare burned holes into your skin and a shiver crawled up your spine as he gravitated closer.

“And she will,” you said with a smirk, closing the gap between you. “You’ll just be in it with me.”

“Oh,” Theo hummed salaciously.

“Wouldn’t wanna waste those pretty roses you got, do we?”

The low rasp of your voice seemed to entrance Theo as he shook his head, appearing dazed as you pulled him in by the front of his shirt. “No, no at all. We should…” The nervous bob of his Adam’s apple sent a thrill through your body. “We should definitely make use of them.”

With a grin, you led him towards the bed. Theo walked backwards, his eyes never leaving yours even as he landed on the mattress. The golden glow of the lamp kissed his sharp cheekbones, its warm hue coloring the slope of his nose, which were smattered with moles and freckles, before emphasizing his wine stained lips. The red roses fluttered around him as the bed dipped, soft petals tickling his skin as he settled against the headboard.

Theo felt like he was under a spell as you crawled over him. He couldn’t tell whether he was dizzy from the wine or if it was just the effect you had on him, but either way, he wasn’t complaining. There were worse things to suffer from than a pretty witch straddling his lap.

Instinctively, Theo gripped your waist while you settled over him. The sight of you leaning over him, your face mere inches away from his felt like a fever dream. One that he had no desire of waking up from.

“I thought you liked girls,” Theo whispered softly as your lips brushed over his. Teasing, taunting, tasting. Fuck, what he would give to have you devour him whole.

“I do,” you replied, tickling his cheek with a rose petal. Theo shivered as the low rasp of your voice pulled him in. “But I like boys too. Especially pretty ones like you.”

Theo couldn’t help but blush. Obviously, he was aware that he was attractive, but he’d never been called pretty before. He was surprised to find that he really fucking liked it.

“Don’t flatter me, dolcezza. Not unless you plan on following through.”

“I’ve never been with a Slytherin before,” you whispered huskily. “Tell me, Theo. Will you sink your teeth into me tonight?”

A part of him pondered the slightly fucked up situation that Theo managed to get himself into tonight. Was he really about to fuck his ex-girlfriend’s ex-girlfriend in her own bed? Yes. Did he feel an ounce of guilt over what he was about to do? No.

Honestly, fuck Hannah. But more importantly, Theo needed to focus on fucking you.

“Fuck yes.”

When you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, it was over. There wasn’t a single trace of self control in him as he kissed back, his mouth hot and eager against yours. The infamous Gryffindor boldness didn’t disappoint as you moaned into his mouth, your fingers threading through his silky brown waves before tugging in a way that made Theo weak in the knees. As he parted your lips with his tongue, you grinded against him and laughed seductively when he whimpered in response.

“Yeah?” you purred as you rolled your hips. “You like that, pretty boy?”

“Bloody fucking hell,” Theo groaned before he kissed you again, rougher this time.

There was something satisfying about the way he grabbed you, his big hands guiding you to grind over him, providing a delicious friction between your clothed sex. Theo was hard and throbbing underneath you. By the feel of him, you knew you were in for a ride. The sheer size of him was going to absolutely destroy you.

You pulled away and a glistening trail of spit extended between you as a result of your sloppy make out. Theo panted as you tugged at the hem of his shirt, keeping your eyes trained on him while you licked a path down his abdomen. He watched hungrily as you grazed your teeth over his hard muscles, flicking your tongue expertly while he shuddered underneath you.

“I can see why Hannah went for you,” you hummed against his tan skin. “You’re hot as fuck. Your abs are unreal and your happy trail,” Theo groaned as you pressed soft kisses along his torso. “It leads to something delicious, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck, bella. You’re killing me,” Theo groaned as he fisted your hair in one hand. The whimper that slipped past his lips as you palmed his cock was utterly shameless. “You’ve got a filthy fucking mouth, Y/N.”

“Yeah? Shut me up, then.”

His head lolled back against the headboard as you released his cock from his boxers, stroking purposefully and savoring the filthy moans that echoed against the walls. Those pretty eyes of his were nearly black with lust as he looked down at you, biting his lip while your tongue swirled over the head of his cock. Licking up his precum, you smirked before fully wrapping your lips around him.

Theo tugged at your hair and bucked against your mouth as you sucked, licked, and pumped every inch of his thick, hard cock. You knew you were good, but the desperation in Theo’s voice all but confirmed it.

“Dio mio, right there. Fuck, you’re perfect. Your throat was made to be fucked. You can take it, bella. Choke on my cock, just like that.”

You gagged as he hit the back of your throat. Sucking dick had never been your favorite, but sucking Theo’s dick was something else. He looked so pretty with his waves plastered to his forehead, rosy cheeks flushed as he fucked your face with a dominance that had you growing wetter by the second. Tears streaked down your cheeks as you choked on his cock, but it was worth every second to hear Theo moan your name.

“Fuck, Y/N,” hissed Theo after a particularly rough thrust. You could tell he was close by the way his body seized underneath you, but you weren’t done with him yet. You wanted more and so did he. “So fucking close, but I don’t want to come yet. I need…Fuck, I need more.”

You released him with a pop, but kept stroking him with your right hand. “Use your words, pretty boy.”

“I want to feel you,” Theo whined. “I need to feel your pussy clenching around my cock, principessa. I need you so fucking bad. I’d get on my knees to be inside of you. Please.”

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” you said as you kissed his temple. “Who am I to refuse?”

Theo watched as you shuffled above him, barely breathing as you slipped out of your clothes. When you threw your shirt off, Theo cursed to find you completely bare before him. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples before wrapping his lips around them. You could tell he was eager to please and that alone was a huge fucking turn on. It was rare to find a man who cared about pleasure beyond his own, which is why you usually preferred women. Theodore Nott seemed to be the exception.

With rapt attention, Theo helped you lower down onto his length. He kept his eyes on you as you adjusted, gasping when your walls stretched to accommodate his size.

“You know, I thought the rumors about you were exaggerated,” you groaned as you sank lower. “But I’ve never been so glad to be wrong.”

Theo smirked as he nibbled at your earlobe. “What kind of rumors, dolcezza?”

“That you had a huge dick,” you responded, sounding slightly winded once Theo was finally fully sheathed inside of you. “And that you fuck like a—“ You moaned when Theo shifted his hips to rut into you. He was so big that the minuscule movement felt like you were being split apart.

“That I fuck like what, bella?”

Never one to be outdone, you tugged at his hair and grinded against him. “That you fuck like an absolute demon.”

“Yeah?” He drawled, sliding in and out of you with a cocky smirk. “Well, you’re no angel either, Y/N.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Theo.”

The sight of you bouncing on his cock and riding the fuck out of him was almost too much. Theo was mesmerized as you used him to get off, head thrown back as you placed your hands on either side of his legs before bending in an angle that he wasn’t even sure was possible for a human to contort to.

Damn, he should’ve fucked a cheerleader sooner. He should’ve fucked you sooner.

“I guess you’re not the only one who listened to the rumors. They said you were flexible, but goddamn, this is something else. You’re something else, Y/N.”

“Oh fuck, Theo,” you keened as you gripped the sheets. “You’re so big. It feels so fucking good, baby.”

“I like the way you moan my name,” he said. “Gods, I could’ve had this all along. Why was I even wasting my time with Hannah? Sei una fottuta dea.”

“I have no idea what you just said,'' you panted, picking up the pace. Your legs ached from the effort, but it felt too good to stop. “But I’m soaked now.”

“I said,” Theo grunted as he fucked up into you and tugged your hair back. “You’re a fucking goddess, Y/N.”

When he rubbed circles on your clit, you absolutely lost it. The room spiraled around you as you came hard, creaming Theo from tip to base. He pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss of contact until he replaced his cock with his mouth. Theo flattened his tongue, licking up along your soaked folds. His nose brushed against your already sensitive clit and you cried out as he lapped you up like a man starved.

“Can’t take anymore,” you whined, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as you pushed against Theo’s broad shoulders. “It’s too much. I’m so sensitive.”

Theo gripped your ankles and spread your legs wider. “Where’s that Gryffindor bravery, bella?” He chuckled, tracing circles on the inside of your thighs. His mouth glistened with your cum and rose petals stuck to his skin as he looked up at you. “Surely you can take more. We barely just started. I want you drenched in tears. Shaking, crying, and moaning my name. Right now, you’re not even close.”

He sucked on your clit and you swore to Godric your eyes rolled back so hard that you saw heaven. Theo was determined to drive you to the brink of insanity. “I know you want it, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

“Oh gods,” you cried out as he filled you with two fingers. It wasn’t as much of a stretch as his cock, but the way he curled them inside of you, touching that sensitive spongy spot within your walls made you whimper all the same. “Fuck, yes, gods. I want it. I want you, Theo.”

A satisfied smile graced his handsome face before Theo flipped you over, pressing you headfirst into the pillows as he feasted on your pussy from behind. There wasn’t a single thought in your head as he unraveled you with his tongue and fingers. It was a deadly combination that had you on the edge quicker than you thought possible.

“Turn around, principessa,” Theo cooed. “Come ride my face.”

For Godric’s fucking sake. The man was absolutely insatiable. You liked to think that you had excellent stamina. Most of the time your partners struggled to keep up with your pace, but Theo was seriously challenging that. You didn’t know if you could come three times in a row without passing out, but tonight was as good as any to find out.

Theo rewarded you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss before positioning your thighs on either side of his head. You held onto the headboard above him. Part of it was for balance, but mostly to keep yourself from collapsing all together. You felt so overstimulated that the line between pleasure and pain was blurring by the minute, but still, neither one of you had any plans of stopping.

At this point, you actually couldn’t give less of a fuck about revenge. Hannah had long become a thing of the past. It seemed ironic that you and your ex-girlfriend were in this exact position mere hours ago yet you couldn’t even recall anything past the Slytherin fucking you with his tongue.

“Theo, oh my fucking gods,” you cried out as you grinded against his mouth. “Right there. Yes, that’s it. So good.” Theo squeezed your thighs in response, which elicited a hoarse laugh out of you. “You like when I praise you, pretty boy?”

Theo hummed against your clit and squeezed your ass in confirmation. “You’re so pretty when you’re eating my pussy,” you cooed, brushing his wavy locks back. “But you’re even prettier when you’re fucking me.”

That seemed to be all the encouragement Theo needed. Before you knew it, your back was against the mattress as he hiked your legs over your shoulder. Theo slipped in easily, thanks to the juices coating both his tongue and cock now that he was filling you up again.

“How’s the view now, principessa?” Theo asked with a cocky smirk.

You bit your lip as he pounded into you, holding your gaze with every sharp thrust. His tanned skin glistened with sweat and his muscles flexed while he buried himself inside of you again and again, watching you take all of him with rapt attention. His balls slapped against your ass every time his hips snapped to yours, drilling so deep that you struggled for words.

“The best in the castle,” you quipped back, putting on a serene smile as Theo grunted and fucked any and every coherent thought right out of you.

Neither one of you noticed the door opening nor the sound of the broom hitting the floor. You were too busy staring into Theo’s pretty eyes to care.

He turned your head towards the door, but didn’t stop fucking you as Hannah watched with her mouth hung wide open. Theo made sure that your ex-girlfriend had a clear view of the money shot as he claimed you with his mouth, moaning your name against your lips as he came with a loud cry. He filled you to the brim and you could feel him leaking out of you and onto the sheets as your eyes rolled back.

Theo collapsed on top of you, sweaty and sinful. As you lay boneless and blissed out of your mind, you couldn’t quite believe that you’d just fucked your ex-girlfriend’s ex boyfriend. In her own bed, nonetheless. If that wasn’t poetic justice, you didn’t know what was. Merlin, you hadn’t gotten shagged like that in—well, ever. The Slytherin really knew how to slither in. You lifted your head to find Theo already looking at you. When you made eye contact, the two of you burst into laughter.

Your ex-girlfriend, on the other hand, was not as amused. “What the fuck!” Hannah screamed.

Her shrill voice brought you out of the post haze aftermath of your earth shattering orgasm. Completely unbothered, you stretched lazily and waved your fingers at Hannah. Theo smirked as he tugged his sweatpants back on, but opted to remain shirtless as he pulled his oversized shirt over your head like a proper gentleman. You were grateful, since you had absolutely no desire to walk around in your ex-girlfriend’s clothes. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Theo looked absolutely delicious from the afterglow.

You bit your lip, already thinking of all the ways you’d like to have him. Again and again. As often as possible.

With a little smile, you met Theo’s gaze. It was clear that neither of you had any intention of calling it an early night. You had a feeling that you had a lot of sleepless nights ahead of you. Theo looked like he wanted to tear you apart and you were more than willing to let him. “My dorm?”

“Whatever you say, dolcezza,” Theo said as he slipped his fingers through yours. “You could lead me off the astronomy tower and I’d follow.”

Theo didn’t bother looking at Hannah as the two of you passed her. You, on the other hand, couldn’t pass up the chance to get the last word in.

“By the way, we’re breaking up with you. Have fun cleaning up the mess.”

Theo chuckled darkly as he tugged you out into the hallway, smacking your arse as the two of you raced back to your dorm. Behind you, your long forgotten ex-girlfriend gaped as she watched her ex-girlfriend and ex-boyfriend walk away hand in hand.

#yes i know this is unhinged but i dreamt it so now you all have to deal #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n #theo nott smut #theo nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott imagine

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nowisthewinter · 1 year

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Why do all the supersuits in the MCU look like they are made out of the same plastic-y material? You would think that along the way one superhero would go, “Screw it. Where’s my cotton and linen? I am running all around in here sweating like a pig. I need something that can breathe!”

#mcu #I am so bored with the sameness of it all #I want a silk costume #Or a cotton jersey costume #Something that says Oooo I could take a nap in that when I am done!#costumes

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fabricstory · 2 years

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Website : https://www.fabricstory.co.uk/

Fabric story offers a beautiful selection of fabrics and haberdashery in-stock, we also offer print your own and pre order service.

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heartfullofleeches · 1 month

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Yan jock body swaps with Femboy cheerleader...

What.... happened?...

The last thing he remembers is returning home after practice- That's not right... The last thing he actually recalls is the distant memory of his crush's sweet smile as he drifted off to sleep. The best part of practice was his cheerleader wishing him a safe trip home... Ugh... His head... It's killing him. Why does his body feel so.... light too?

The jock crawls out of bed, standing before the mirror by his bed. Strange... He doesn't remember placing one in that spot. He peers at his reflection - color draining from that pretty face he treasured so dearly.

That pretty skin... Those gorgeous lips.... Those curves....

Y...Y/n?!?

That mirror, this room, this body- It's yours, all yours. What's going on? Is this a dream? Fully awake and aware, the jock becomes acutely conscious of the nightgown he's in. A flowing oversized tee-shirt stopping at the slip of his plush thighs... Your thighs... Wait, this shirt... It's his old jersey that he gave you.. You actually kept it? How many other gifts of his had you kept? It couldn't hurt to check around... It'd probably be fine if he checked what you had on underneath too... Dream or not, it's his body for now...

He knows it's wrong.... but the silk mesh between his...your legs is begging to be touched. You've probably got tons of cute outfits in your closet tucked away for the right occasion. He's hard just thinking about it...thoughts and urges transferred over to the body he's now in. He wants to touch you... himself so badly. It's fine if it's only a quick peek, right? He's nearly seen what's underneath already with how frequently your skirt rides up your backside during your performances. The jock writhes in discomfort as his panties grow tighter. How on earth did you manage an erection in these?-

Before he's able to do anything in your body, the phone on the nightstand rings. He answers.

"H...hello? Is um....is Y/n there?"

The voice is easily recognizable, but the timidity in his own voice reminds of a certain someone.

"Y/n, here~ May I ask who's speaking?"

#yandere jock #Femboy reader #cheerleader reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere insert #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere imagines #suggestive #male reader

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history-of-fashion · 7 months

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autumn-winter 1945-1946 Dress by Madame Grès (France)

silk (jersey, satin), cotton (tape), metal (fastenings)

(National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne)

#Madame Grès #dress #1940s #20th century #women

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wandasaura · 2 months

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IT WAS NEVER MINE

summary — as your year long contract with natasha come to an end, all the feelings you’ve been trying to ignore come to the surface. you didn’t think they were yours to lose in the first place, but you’d never been so wrong in your life

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, angst, hurt/comfort, brief mentions of panic attack/spiraling thoughts, confession of feelings, soft!wandanat, dom/sub dynamics, bratty behavior, face grabbing, fingering, ruined orgasm, degradation, praise, mommy kink, daddy kink, doggy position, oral, grinding, mutual orgasms, threesome, finger sucking, cum tasting, literal filth? men/minors dni

authors note — russian translations are included at the end of this work. we finally got the confessions of feelings! the trios officially a couple! everybody cheered!

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

Everything around you had been cemented in false permanence that you weren’t quite ready to give up just yet, or ever. The weather, the sunsets, the arms you fell into at night; a month into the summer holidays and you could no longer deny that your feelings for Wanda and Natasha were merely a result of the situation. You wanted them, in every way they would give themselves to you. You yearned for their laughter, and to join in on the soft kisses that came by the kitchen window every morning like a sacred routine. You wanted their eternal company and the lingering presence of where their gentle touch had lied even when they went away. To put it simply: you crave something that will never come. The terms of your contract were made clear when you signed them, but you were naive to have ever thought you wouldn’t catch feelings.

With June halfway through and July on the cusp, the bed the couple fell into each night was practically your own now too, and clothes you wore frequently had been given an official place in the master en-suite closet beside Natasha’s. Some mornings, when sleep had been hard to claim and exhaustion carried over into sunrise, you couldn’t distinguish between what was hers and what was yours. When those days came like unexpected storm clouds, the gravity of your predicament clung to your skin like the disappointment of cold rain on a tropical vacation.

Westview came alive in the summer months, like most shore towns in Jersey did once schools were out. The small town wasn’t one that you had been familiar with prior to signing the contract, rather isolated and forgotten about between the bigger beaches that bordered it, but now you that you knew of it and had seen it in the winter, you couldn’t imagine hard days without that small ice cream shop four blocks from the Maximoff’s, nor do you think you could survive hard semesters without escaping to the deserted edge of solid ground only locals visited when pale snow kissed tan sand.

When sunshine became too bright to ignore, you were the last in the house to stir awake. The master bedroom was quiet, too quiet, save for the blue jays that chirped just beyond the sun-warm window. You sighed at the muted colors that adorned the walls and furniture within the room, wondering how some places could feel so lived in and empty in the same breath. You had to force yourself out of bed, though you would’ve rather stayed burrowed beneath thick blankets and pillows made of clouds until they fused to your three-day-old marked skin. Your routine may not have been as sweet as the married women who lingered somewhere beneath you, probably cuddled up close on the couch in the living room or laughing together in the kitchen over a memory you weren’t privy to knowing, but it had become something cherished since joining them in bed at night. Your fingers, cold from their lack of use throughout the night, trailed over the hickies that discolored your skin. The touch was softer than silk, fear clouding your impulses as you wondered if today would be the day they disappeared into nothing but another memory. In prior relationships, you’d always hated when your partner left you with physical remnants of the intimate connection you’d sought from them. It had always felt cliche and admittedly demeaning when you’d then have to walk around with splotches of burgundy peeking out from beneath clothes, but there was something different about the way you allowed Wanda and Natasha to claim you. Perhaps it was the sick pride you harbored just by knowing that your body was solely theirs to mark, or maybe it was your own twisted need to convince your mind that they cared for you the same way you did them like your heart so desperately wanted to believe. Either way, the love bites strewn across your neck lived to see another day if the intense sensitivity was any indication of their presence, and with the confirmation that everything you’ve devoted yourself to hadn't completely fallen away yet, the dread you faced like an endless mirror melted away to be stared at later on.

With no energy to actually get dressed, because even a full night's sleep had felt like simple minutes recently, you didn’t even bother walking into the closet where your favorite outfits remained hung up on expensive metal hangers. You’d only stare at them blankly, no pull to anything in particular, until you walked away still clad in paint splattered shorts and a t-shirt you’d owned since high school. Every morning Wanda would say that the pajamas you wore weren’t allowed to exist outside of the house, and every day Natasha would drag you out for a walk while still wearing them. It was like they couldn’t agree on how to help you, but both women had noticed your shift in attitude even if they didn’t know the cause. You weren’t their lively girl anymore. You didn’t jump at the chance to skip down the pier holding tightly onto Natasha’s hand, you didn’t fling yourself off the countertops just because you knew it worried Wanda, and you didn’t bounce between offices seeking attention from whoever gave it first. As each day passed and another one came to the surface, you only got farther from the woman that they had loved. The woman you believed was unlovable.

They tried to stand firm on the rules and expectations, having seen what happens when they try to soften their edges for you, but even doubling down on their control had been in vain. Your ass had been over both of their laps countless times in recent days, but all that seemed to do was fuel your desire to push back and retreat inward. Wanda had tried various other methods of punishment to break through whatever wall you were trying to keep up, hoping that getting you to relinquish control would settle whatever storm you had brewing beneath those dazzling eyes. Edging you had failed. You had blatantly refused to let her see how desperate you were, taking each edge with impressive neutrality until eventually she’d given you a full orgasm out of her own guilt and need to comfort. She had made you sit at the dining room table and write lines when you’d dared to try and talk back to her one night, but when she had come back to check on you the sheet of loose-leaf paper was blank and the pen hadn’t even been picked up. That was the first time you’d received the silent treatment from Wanda. She’d merely collected the paper and pen with a hum of dissatisfaction before she moved on with her evening as normal. There was no question about if you were still cared for, she tucked you in and kissed your head, but it wasn’t until the next morning rolled around when you’d heard her voice being directed toward you again. She could see that the punishment had affected you. It wasn’t typically one she resorted to, knowing how it could impact a submissive's emotions, but everything else had been falling flat on its face and she just wanted her girl back. She’d tried to amend the situation at the first chance she got, tried to comfort you in the way she knew you’d needed done, but you were more or less unresponsive to her attempts.

As the nights of summer carried the end of your contract nearer, your sadness only grew and presented in agitating ways that were winding both of the redheads up – there was only so much more of your attitude that they could take before they snapped and you wouldn’t blame them when it came. The contract was practically the only thing on your mind anymore, namely the part of the document that disclosed the length of your agreement; twelve months. You were on month ten, and although a large part of you desperately wanted to enjoy these last few weeks entirely, the smaller, more stubborn part of you, felt like you had to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak that was to come. Change was unavoidable, you kept reminding yourself, but nothing could have prepared you for how truly fast it was happening. Natasha had promised you a glorious summer break. She’d promised s’mores and beach days and near permanent attachment. It wasn’t her that broke those promises, it was you. Even the thought of spending individual time with the Russian made panic flare within you, and though it wasn’t fair to her, you continued to cancel plans regardless. Today was another day of plans that wouldn’t happen, and there wasn’t even the slightest ounce of remorse in your belly as you descended toward the kitchen. You had been wrong for getting attached in the first place, you wouldn't add fuel to the fire so close to the once unimaginable end.

The lawyer owned a Harley-Davidson LiveWire. It sat covered by a thick black tarp in the two car garage that at some point during their relationship, had been converted into an at home gym. The very first time you had gotten a peak at the bike, you knew that you wanted to join her for a ride, but you found out weeks later that riding wasn’t something Natasha did often or at all, not anymore. Wanda had been the one to tell you why during one of the first conversations you’d had. She told you how Natasha had been in a bad crash, how the bike in the garage was a replacement for the one she’d used to have, how even the sight of it sent her spiraling and thus was why it remained permanently covered. But, after hearing about your interest, Natasha had spent months working through her anxiety just to give you a taste of the biking life she’d adored for so many years. She’d told you three weeks ago that she was almost ready to get back on, that she would let you know when she could trust herself not to panic. Months of working through trauma that could’ve easily stayed untouched just to see you smile, and now you didn’t even want to go. You were probably the shittiest person ever. They had every right to hate you come August, but you convinced yourself that that would make everything easier. If they still cared for you, you’d think about crawling back to them every second of the day.

As expected, Wanda and Natasha were sitting together on the couch when you reached the end of the stairs. The windows in the living room were open and welcomed the fresh breeze inside, but despite the warmth that lingered with the wind, you shivered. Wanda’s head craned toward the stairs first, and then Natasha’s. It always took the Russian longer to notice you, and you wondered if Wanda really did just have a sixth sense because she never took more than a second to spot you, even if you tried to be as soundless as possible. They offered you sweet greetings and easy smiles, but they went unreturned. Three weeks ago, you would’ve melted into their laps and grinned eagerly, but now you merely rolled your eyes and shuffled into the kitchen where leftover ice cream from Billy’s remained in the freezer.

Wanda had brought it home a few nights ago, her form of an apology for being kept at the office so late. It wasn’t yet fall, just barely summer really, but already their workload was starting to increase. You could see it in their eyes that carried permanent exhaustion, and though Natasha had thus far kept her promise of not being away, she worked in her office a significant amount more. Maybe your attitude is what pushed her to spend time with mind-melting files and cases, or maybe she was just accepting the end of the contract better than you.

Your ice cream was decorated with sprinkles softer than sunsets. Their pastel shades were unlike the sprinkles sold at chain ice cream restaurants near your University and hometown, and you adored the simple detail that set Billy’s apart from everyone else. The first time Natasha had shown you to the parlor, you had claimed so boldly that despite being made of the same ingredients, the sprinkles tasted sweeter then the other ones you’ve tried. Another thing that had changed in your dynamic were the rules. Wanda was strict, hovering and well-alike to a helicopter parent, and when she’d realized that you only ate meals when they were prepared by either her or Natasha, she’d wasted no time in implementing another rule into your dynamic; you needed to eat at least one real meal a day. It wasn’t hard in the summer months. You were with them every day and you ate what they ate when they ate, but your late wake-up time had given you the perfect opportunity to make your lingering bad mood known in yet another way. You pulled the freezer open without any hesitation, heading straight for the half-eaten ice cream with your name on it. You’d scribbled your newest nickname, utenok, on the cover when you feared Natasha would eat it on you. The silliness and untainted delight that you had felt in that moment was practically unimaginable now. You tried to grasp at how light you had felt as you sat around the dining table joking with Wanda who had a smudge of peanut butter sauce on the tip of her nose, but you had come up empty handed quickly.

Shaking your head, not wanting to spiral down another path of inconsolable tears, you directed your attention to finding a spoon. The many cabinets in the kitchen had once confused you, as they would anyone who was randomly dropped in a lavish kitchen with too many drawers to count, but now they were engraved in your memory and you hadn’t even stopped to question if you opened the right one, knowing confidently that you hadn’t messed up in months. The silverware was in the drawer closest to the sink, and you found a spoon easily. You hated how before you could even dig into your ice cream, that your mind felt the need to remind you about how in eight weeks, you’d have no right to this kitchen and the silverware inside of it. The first bite on your tongue felt wrong, and your stomach churned in thick guilt, but you ignored how badly you wanted to beg Wanda for forgiveness and went in for another mouthful. The sprinkles didn’t taste as sweet, but you knew that Wanda could see you from the living room so you kept up with the action.

Her voice made you feel sick to your stomach when it finally attempted to reach your ears. “What are the rules, milaya?” She asked you with sternness, her eyes set into a thin glare that could end wars if the military let her loose on the battlefield. Nobody would go against her, they’d stand no chance, but you did. You had learned how to ignore the rush of guilt and shame that set in when she looked at you that way, and were becoming quite good at it if you had any say in the matter. No, that was a lie, the biggest lie that you had ever told yourself, but you had to try. You felt like the absolute worst person in the world when you went against Wanda, but in eight weeks there would be no Wanda to go against, so you tried to remain unbothered despite how bothered you actually were.

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Your clipped tone had made her flinch, had made her reel back into Natasha and pull her eyes away from you. Your heart dropped to your feet, your eyes stung with unshed tears that had come at least once every day since you realized how near the end was, but you didn’t apologize. You didn’t backtrack and attempt to amend what you were breaking. Instead, you scooped up another bite of ice cream that was significantly bigger than the last, and shoved it all into your mouth at once. The creamy flavor melted onto your tongue and tried to clear your mind, but the guilt made it difficult to win. You needed this. You needed them to hate you so that you could hate them, but it felt like a knife stabbing into your least important organs over and over. You could live without a spleen, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt for a while. You knew that you could live without them and their praise and reassurances, but that wouldn’t mean that even if they hated you it wouldn’t hurt. There was no good way out, but you were being forced closer and closer to the day with every minute that passed.

“Put the ice cream away and get something else to eat, detka. You agreed to these rules.” Wanda came back at you harder, sterner, colder, and when you met her eyes from across two rooms, there was a fire beneath them that had made her near unrecognizable. Her publics were blown and darker than midnight as it hung over Westview, her lips were set into a firm line that would give her wrinkles by the time she was forty. She was miles away from the sweet woman you had seen glimpses of since dropping your what was your initial attitude, but even the woman you’d hated hadn’t been so harsh. Your nose crinkled, and for the softest second she believed that she had won, but when did you ever give in so easily, though nothing about this was easy.

Raising your chin, the handle of the silver spoon felt heavy between your fingers that held it up to your lips where the taste of your treat lingered. She wasn’t going to make you back down when in eight weeks you’d be back on campus and without her. As horrible as it was to admit, you didn’t know who you were without them anymore. Natasha laid out outfits for you that paired sweetly with hers. Wanda made breakfast and dinner, and always asked you to help with lunch. They helped you sleep through storms and nightmares. They had satisfied you and completed you for ten months, and in turn you were just expected to know how to keep going without their rules. You’d drown before you even had the chance to swim. “Make me.”

Daylight drenched the house in warmth, but the room felt cold when Wanda shot to her feet and started to approach with footsteps that were silent and deadly. You had half the mind to run in the opposite direction, to avoid whatever she was coming over to do, but you stayed firmly planted to the floor of the kitchen and dared to even take another mouthful of ice cream between your lips. For days you had been dismissive and hostile toward them, quieted by silence and fear, but those initial feelings were quickly folding into anger that begged to be released.

You stiffened when her ringed hand caught your jaw, her fingertips squeezing your cheeks together not unkindly, but not softly either. You had amended your limits just as you had amended the rules now that Wanda was an active participant in your dynamic, but none of your new allowances had been used on you yet, there hadn’t been a reason. You had just given her a reason though, and your eyes, despite your willingness for them to remain slitted and annoyed, widened in shock immediately. You’d been adamant against Natasha grabbing you like this, a fear response from childhood that at the start of your relationship hadn’t yet been processed, but as your trust in their control had grown over time, so had your curiosity for harsher elements of kink and submission. Your core throbbed at the sensation of her fingers digging into your skin, and you wanted to kick yourself for folding so easily. You’d never accomplish anything if your body craved their touch, but getting them to hate you was just as hard as getting you to hate them.

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to like that. Mommy expects little girls to do as they're told the first time they’re asked, but it seems you’ve forgotten who you're with. One last chance, go put away the ice cream and find something else to eat. You will not take your attitude out on me when I have given you every opportunity to tell me what’s wrong.” If you thought she wouldn’t grab you any harsher, you were wrong. The grip she had on your face was painful now, and you could feel every grove in the metal around her fingers as they pressed into your cheeks and jaw. Every instinct in your body was screaming at you to listen to her, to just find something else to eat or ask her to make you something instead, but your anger had grown fond of disobedience, and you shook your head before you could process what would happen next. “Very well.” The hand on your face had fallen away just as quickly as it had come, leaving you with an ache on your face and soon an emptiness in your hands when she plucked the cup from between your grip and walked it over to the garbage can beneath the skin. You wanted to sob when you watched her throw it away, the bright colored cup a flash of pigment before it was completely out of sight and at the bottom of the bag.

“What the fuck?” You complained, throwing the spoon down on the island countertop. The metal clanked against the marble when it made contact, but you didn’t care about how you might have scratched the surface they kept so perfect and tidy. There were too many bigger feelings coursing through your nerves to recognize how Wanda’s eyes snapped to the island before they fell upon yours again. She was getting sick and tired of your attitude. The sadness she’d felt when she first realized something was wrong hadn’t quickly become anger, but she was reaching that point now. You were forcing her over the edge with every minor act of brattiness you could even think to initiate.

You were pinned between her body and the edge of the counter so quickly you hadn’t even realized that she had backed you in, but in a moment of forgetfulness, drunk of the state of her radiating dominance, your hands gripped onto the hem of her shirt and your eyes burned with desperation for her touch. You scolded yourself when you realized, but Wanda had already seen it and smirked knowingly down at you. You hadn’t responded to edging, but maybe you’d respond when someone properly ruined your orgasm for the first time. You never did take too kindly to their teasing, and it seemed that even in whatever funk had taken hold of you, your body was calling out for her attention. Who could blame you though, the three-day-old hickies on your neck were an indication of the last time you’d been touched, and you shared a bed with the hottest women in the world.

Wanda’s hands were ruthless as they didn’t waste time with teasing. You’d been teased enough, there was no need for her to drag out your punishment. As cruel as she intended to be with you, she didn’t think you could handle being nothing but putty in her hands. Her and Natasha weren’t quiet when they ripped orgasms from each other in the shower at night as you laid in their bed waiting for their return, and they certainly weren’t quiet when they snuck into one of their offices upstairs in the middle of the day. Just because you hadn’t been touched, didn’t mean they hadn’t been, and the sounds of their pleasure had been torturous each and every time. They’d been waiting for you to come to them, waiting for the breaking point where you begged for their attention and any toy you were desperate enough to name at the moment. Asking for what you wanted was still hard, but they were patient enough to let you figure it out, and they had hoped that not immediately offering attention like they had a habit of doing would pull you out of your head. Clearly it hadn’t. Clearly, they’d failed to help you in yet another way.

Wanda was in no mood to be patient anymore, and when her hands dipped beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts, that fact became very apparent to you. You gasped at the sensation of her cold fingers seeking out your clit with intent and eagerness. Your eyes snapped up to hers, a million silent questions buried beneath the haze of desperation her aggressiveness had provoked. You grinded down against her fingers, not being stopped. So much control was being placed in your hands, or at least that’s what you were being led to believe as she eased two fingers into your pulsating entrance and allowed you the freedom of grinding down on them however you wanted. You wanted to push her away, wanted to keep up your act and attitude, but that had all melted away from you the second her fingers curled into your soft spot.

“Nobody’s touched this sweet pussy in three days.” Wanda hummed, her voice laced and dripping in false sympathy as she scissored you open and made you ache for more. There was no question to be answered in her observations, and it confused you. She almost always followed up with a question because she liked to see you squirm in pleasure unable to answer her. She liked to belittle you and force you to see just how pliable you were to her every direction. Everything that you had grown to accept and adore had been ripped away. Her lips hovered above yours, but they didn’t lean down to kiss you. Everything about this moment felt so impersonal and detached, and it made you cry out in frustration. She was only doing what you had done to her, she knew that, but you couldn’t even begin to wrap your head around it at this moment. When you’d eventually realize, she hoped it was enough to set you straight, because she desperately wanted to close the gap between your bodies and love you the right way. She kept her face mere inches from yours, her eyes open and hard and dilated. She was looking at you so cruelly, it made your insides feel like they were on trial. When a desperate moan fell from your lips, Wanda doubled her pace, ruthlessly rubbing circles on your clit that had become stiff beneath her thumb. “Gonna cum for Mommy, little slut?”

“Y-Yes!” You only just barely managed to cry out, and you expected her to slow her pace and reprimand you for not asking her correctly, it had been three days since you’d called her Mommy and though you were aching for her to be just that to you, there was still bite left in your bones and Wanda merely hummed as she registered that fact. You would not like what was to come. She knew you would hate it. You liked full satisfying orgasms, and she couldn’t blame you for that, but the feeling you were about to become familiar with was the exact opposite. Only she was privy to that information though.

“Then go ahead.” She shrugged haphazardly, a third finger daring to stretch you open and fill you up. Your walls accepted the burn, leaned into the pleasure, craved her touch and thanked every star in the universe for sending her down to you. With her permission to let go, you didn’t fight the coil from snapping within your belly. Your eyes fell closed at the sharp sensation of approaching, promised pleasure, but just as quickly as she’d let you think you were about to taste it, her fingers pulled away and left your hot cunt to pulsate and throb with no help or satisfaction. Your eyes shot open in shock, your hips writhing and bucking against the countertop as tears glistened in your eyes. You could feel it wash over you, just beneath the surface, but that was all that came from it. Your entrance sobbed at the loss of stimulation, your clit twitched and jumped in protest, but nothing could bring her back to you, and as quickly as you had tasted relief, it was gone and just nothing.

“No!” You sobbed, your hand shooting out to grab Wanda’s wrist and drag it back to your uncomfortable core. She merely laughed at your distress, the sound foreign and cold as it rolled off her lips. Wanda had been mean, she’d been harsh and unforgiving, but she’d never been cruel. Not like this. Not with you. You didn’t know what to do with yourself as you stomped your feet and wiggling helplessly against the edge of the counter, unable to form the words that wouldn’t convince her to help you, but again, you didn’t know that this had been her plan all along; that no matter how much you begged and cried, she wasn’t going to make you cum. Not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not even for the rest of the week. It depended on the state of your attitude.

With a frown of sympathy that didn’t even attempt to be perceived as authentic, Wanda had the audacity to coo at your distressed expression and reach her hand out to gently cup your cheek that was damp from falling tears. “You didn’t like that, huh?” She questioned, her green eyes unwavering in their position of dominance. You shook your head feverishly, unable to stop the twitches of movement that made your entire body tremble. She offers you no support, no endearing kiss and soft reassurance, she’s allowed you to make your bed, it’s not her problem you’re expected to lay in it now. “You weren’t supposed to, devchonka. When you’re ready to talk about what’s bothering you, like the contract that’s been open in my office for the last week, we’ll see about fixing your little issue.”

You swallowed thickly at the words she whispered against the sensitive shell of your ear, at the fact that she had figured out where your thoughts laid without you even saying anything. You wondered if she had told Natasha, wondered how long she had known what your attitude was about and had just been waiting for you to bring it up to her yourself. You had so many questions, but you always seemed to have questions when it came to Wanda and the ways in which she worked. Of course you had your own copy of the contract, they’d be horrible lawyers if they sent you away without one, but it had been thrown into a random box with the rest of your belongings when you had moved out of your dorm room in May. When you remembered the terms of the contract one afternoon, or more specifically when the agreed upon end would be, you’d sought out one of their copies, and Wanda’s was easiest to find. Her office was so meticulously clean and organized that it hadn’t been a hard task, but that should’ve been your first sign of caution. You were stupid to think she wouldn’t notice you’d been in there snooping around, you were even dumber for forgetting to put it back. So clearly in your mind you could remember how you fled in a state of panic when your eyes reached the black printed end date, August Third. You hadn’t been back in there since, and for the week that had followed, the contract had surely been sitting open and tear stained on her desk. You were an idiot.

The only thing you could think to do as panic flared in your chest like a category five hurricane, was run in the opposite direction. Never in your life had you stood and faced a problem head on, and now was no time to start. Would she terminate the contract early? Would she berate you for having been in her office at all? You knew they had confidential files in almost every available drawer, and your heart raced with the possibility of her thinking you’d read them. You hadn’t, you’d only been looking for the contract, but you’d messed up too badly to even beg her to believe you on that. When the initial shock subsided, and you were aware enough to realize that Wanda had stepped away from you and offered you space, you didn’t even bother to grab your phone before you headed for the exit. You hadn’t stepped into your flip flops that had gained a permanent place beside the front door, didn’t even look back at Natasha calling for you to calm down and come back to her, you needed to get out of there before you could make things any worse. You're certain that Wanda hadn’t meant to rattle you so severely, she was just tired of dancing around the issue, but the damage was done, and you couldn’t stick around to see how it unfolded.

The front door didn’t close behind you like you’d hoped. Your hand had barely even grazed against the edge of the door when you’d flailed your limb out towards it and you’d left in too much of a hurry for the gentle touch to matter anyways. Unfortunately for both them and you, it gave them the perfect glimpse of your form as it shot straight down the familiar route toward the beach. You hadn’t wanted them to know where you were going, hadn’t even considered it much, but it was an unconscious response after so many late night walks with Natasha. A sense of ease washed over Wanda when she could at least predict where you’d be going, but Natasha, who didn’t have the privilege of knowing what Wanda knew, was left to question whether she should go after you or not. You hadn’t brought shoes, and even if the shore was only seven blocks from the house, the asphalt would burn your skin in seconds. Despite the comfort that should’ve come with the fact that you were headed in the direction of a familiar and relatively safe location, Wanda could hear the rushing of blood in her ears as she retreated back to the living room and dropped down beside Natasha on the couch. Her face was the only indication of her worry, as her shoulders took the precision of a lawyer and sat aligned with her hips.

Natasha sat absolutely stock still on the couch, her green eyes bouncing between Wanda’s crestfallen face and the open front door where she could vividly picture you standing so tensely before you were gone entirely. She’d known there was a problem, known that Wanda was on her last ounce of patience with your persistent disobedience, but she had placed all of her faith into her wife’s ability to handle things. She was accustomed to your bouts of bad days, aware that most of them came when your mother attempted to stir trouble in your life, but this felt different, this felt personal. Natasha’s gut clenched in guilt that she couldn’t even fathom the reason for. They’d been strict, and they’d been lenient, but any side of them hadn’t been received well, even when they approached you as equals. What you needed in this moment was anyone's guess, because anyone she tried to be for you only failed to help. Brokenly, like the world had just run away from her heart, Natasha kept her gaze steady on Wanda, begging to know what had happened. “What was that about?” The softest hint of not being a born and raised American played on the edge of her words, an indication that she was beyond upset.

Wanda sighed, knowing it was never an easy conversation to be had when Natasha was too emotional to keep her accent out of her words. The woman preferred the American accent she’d adopted after nearly twenty-five years in the States, but no amount of practice could ever fully take Russia out of her heart. Natasha might put it on thick when she was trying to wind her up, might throw it out boldly when she wants to catch you off guard, but when it was soft, when it was gentle and broken, the Sokovian knows that it isn’t intentional. After so many years together she’s become fluent in the subtle tells of the woman's emotions. “She was looking at the contract a couple of days ago.” Wanda knows what her wife needs, and so she lets her own native accent lace her words. In this moment, they’re just two women from places of destruction that thought they had finally found something good. They’re not CEO’s with enough money to buy a country if they so pleased, they’re not dominants who seek to have control and obedience, they’re merely two hearts that just watched a piece of them run away in tears.

“Why?” Natasha frowns when she finally processes the simple sentence Wanda whispered into the dry and heavy air around their warm and lonely bodies. She tries to wrack her brain for anything that she might’ve done in recent days that had violated the terms you’d agreed on, but she can’t find a single reason for you to have sought out Wanda’s copy of the contract and fled the way you did. Things had been going so well, only a few weeks ago she had asked you how you wanted to spend the anniversary of your dynamic, and she’d not seen even an ounce of reluctance in your eyes when you said you just wanted to spend it with her and Wanda. She’d been looking forward to it since then, meticulously sneaking off to her office and planning little things to fill the day with that she knew you would adore. She’d already drafted a new contract, one that was void of an end date because as much as she knew she wanted you eternally, that wasn’t yet a conversation that she had come to you with. Did you not want that now? Had she been a fool to ever think you did?

Wanda’s face melted at the utterly crushed gleam that rested within Natasha’s typically vibrant green eyes. Sadness wasn’t even a strong enough word to abridge the kaleidoscope of emotions that crashed against her features like the shore, but Wanda didn’t need words, she already knew. She was feeling it too. “O, milaya.” She smiles sadly, knowing that as sharp as her wife can be, she was blind to the little gestures of love you’d been throwing out. She reciprocated them all, went above and beyond for you, but her own past had tainted the purity of affection. That was not something Wanda could blame her for missing, but didn’t stop her from hating. “She’s scared. As much as you have a hard time realizing that girl is head over heels for you, my best guess is that she thinks all of this,” Wanda gestures around the visible rooms, her eyes sweeping over your shoes in the entryway before they fall on the baby blue blanket Natasha had bought solely with you in mind that now lives on the loveseat in a ball. There are so many subtle traces of your presence that linger in their perfectly kept rooms, and Wanda adores each and every one. “is because of the contract.”

Natasha feels so stupid for not having realized the cause of your apprehension toward her sooner. If it were possible for her heart to break into a million pieces of sharp glass, she’s sure the organ would have crumbled into dust by now. She wonders how many nights you had laid awake between her and Wanda and tallied them off as one of your last chances to do so. The exhaustion on your face makes sense now, the inward spiraling she’d watched you do wasn’t so random anymore. She hates that she spent the first ten years of her life in a family void of love, she hates that even now at thirty-four, she hasn’t figured out how to show how she feels clearly. If she could just get over herself, maybe you wouldn’t be questioning your place in her home. “No.” Natasha shakes her head, her eyes begging with Wanda to believe the next string of words that fall from her tongue, “I-I love her.”

Wanda smiles that same sad smile again, and her hands that are free of scars and calluses hold firmly to Natasha’s cheeks. It’s not the same grip that she’d held you with in the kitchen, it’s softer and tender and expels all of her unspoken emotions that nobody has found the words for yet. Tears glimmer in her eyes as she nods her head to the whispered admission that had been danced around for four months. Wanda’s always known that her wife has found another home in your heart, just like she’s always known that you’ve found a home in hers. She’s accepted that, but beyond that, she’s found a home in you too. “I know that, Natalia. YA nikogda ne zadavalsya etim voprosom. Nikodga. YA tozhe yeye lyublyu. YA lyublyu vas oboikh.”

Natasha’s eyes brim with tears at the whispered confession in her native language. Sokovian and Russian are close enough to understand without having to learn the other, but Wanda had gone the extra mile to make her feel at home even thousands of miles away. Russia had never felt as soft as Wanda does in this moment, and Natasha can’t even begin to explain how disgustingly in love she is with the woman sat beside her. “My skazali, chto eto ne bylo nikakikh usloviy. My smotreli Pinokkio, i ty spel mne etu pesnyu. YA obeshchal tebe nikakikh usloviy.” Tears leak down Natasha’s face in single streams that resemble rivers, but Wanda’s quick to wipe them away, thinking her wife’s face is too beautiful to hold such sorrow.

A wet chuckle falls from Wanda’s lips as she shakes her head, a soft smile pulling at the corners of her mouth that can’t quite stay in place with the sadness that keeps her still. “Vsegda byli kakiye-to usloviya, dorogaya. Menya ustraivayut eti struny. YA khochu eti struny.” There’s understanding and acceptance in her eyes, and Natasha doesn’t understand how she’s done something good enough to deserve a wife so accommodating. Wanda’s always known that Natasha was never fully hers, much like she’s always known she was never fully Natashas. Their hearts were forged in the same fire of pain and suffering. Wanda lost her home to bombings and war, Natasha lost hers to violent abuse. They were the best and worst parts of one another but you; you fit on them like a glass slipper made by magic. You fulfilled every part of their traumatized souls that they’d thought would remain empty until death took them whole. You showed them unconditional love, and yeah, you were blemished and traumatized too, but that just made it better.

“I should have gone after her.” Natasha whispers into the silence that hasn’t fully come over the house in weeks. There was never silence when you were around, even when you slept whispered words of sweetness fell into the air as you wiggled and tossed in a dream she could only hope was innocent as you are. Her head falls forward until her forehead rests against Wanda, their green eyes that are so vastly different but similar connecting passionately. There’s worry brewing in her chest that she just can’t ignore, not when you’re out there without any way to communicate with them. You’re a perfectly capable adult, she knows that you can handle yourself, but you shouldn’t have to; not when you have her.

“She needed space, moya lyubov’. She’ll come back to us.” Wanda mumbles, her lips ghosting over Natasha’s. It’s not quite a kiss, neither one of them lean into it, but neither of them pull away either. Right now, they just need to be close, they just need to hold onto hope that wherever you are, you’ve found the peace you needed.

“She has to.” Natasha lets her eyes fall closed, and she silently counts the beats of her heart that she can feel against her ribcage. She loves you. She hadn’t been ready to admit it before, but it’s the only thing she can think of now.

There’s a wistful smile on Wanda’s lips, and her eyes are so far away that Natasha knows she’s thinking of something specific. Whatever memory it is, she doesn’t ask. She just leans into her wife and hopes that she’s right, but Wanda’s never wrong, so there's no reason to worry. “She will. She always does.”

The sand is coarse beneath your feet as the shore gets farther and farther behind you, off in the distance there's a seagull swooping down to steal the sandwich that one of the shoobies has packed from home, but you don’t witness the chaos unfold as you pace your way toward land. You don’t know how long it's been, but you know that the sun has shifted in the sky and the faintest wisp of pink clings to the horizon. The end of daylight is an approaching promise, and when it dawns on Westview you want nothing more than to be wrapped up safely in Wanda's arms for the duration of it. Even if it ends tomorrow, you need just one more night where you can pretend it’s all real.

There’s a pair of vibrant seafoam green flip flops on your feet that aren’t yours, but the child who left them behind doesn’t miss them too much, hopefully at least. They barely fit, the heels of your feet hanging over the edge, but you're willing to suffer if it means avoiding the searing hot pavement on your journey back to the Maximoff residence. You don’t know why you ran, don’t know why you allowed yourself to fall back on that learned response to anything going awry, but there was nothing you could do to change how you reacted now. The time away had forced you into sounder thoughts, and the song of the ocean as it crashed against land had eased you down from panic quite well. All that lingered through your body now was longing for arms that felt forbidden, but you hoped they would make an exception just this once. The seven blocks back to the Maximoff residence was well known. You watched as the pastel homes that lined the coast as far as the eye could see became muted buildings and beige houses, counting down the sharp corners until the last number that remained was one. Six blocks had passed too quickly, in the estimated eleven minutes that it had been since your back faced the shore and your mind had made the decision to return, you hadn’t had the time to prepare yourself for what could possibly await you when you entered. The house could be ripped to shreds, or it could be still in perfect silence. Those had been the only two options when you were a child, but you found that it was neither when you finally mustered up the courage to set your hand on the unlocked knob and twist.

You felt the eeriest sense of deja vu ambush your already hypersensitive nerves as you set your gaze on Wanda and Natasha cuddled together on the couch, watching old sitcom reruns beneath the blanket that had been bought by Natasha, and until this moment, solely used by you. Wanda had put up such a fuss about how it clashed with the theme they’d decorated the room with, you thought she might demand Natasha return it the very instance she saw it peeking out of a shopping bag, but that threat never came, and after seeing how in love you were with the feather light material, she had never even dared to move it into the linen closet where every other blanket they owned resided. Seeing them cuddled beneath something that had been bought specifically for you stirred feelings in your chest that you would much rather avoid but you wouldn’t run from your problems again.

When your presence was noticed, it was merely seconds before two sets of strong and familiar arms wrapped tightly around your neck and torso. Wanda’s head burrowed deep into your chest seeking darkness while Natasha’s found a comfortable home in your shoulder demanding promise that you were real. It was never you in this position, with women clinging onto you desperately like you might vanish, but now that it was, you didn’t know what to do to console them. You mirrored the actions they’d done for you so many times before, hoping that it was the right move. One of your hands fell on the center of Wanda’s back, while the other curled into Natasha’s hair tightly. A strangled sigh escaped from your lips when you submitted to the comfort they radiated, but you knew that forgiveness was too good to be true, so you waited with baited breath for the other shoe to drop.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Wanda mumbled into your chest, your skin kissed by unrelenting sunlight unsurprisingly warm beneath her cheek as she craned her head to look up into your eyes that were already looking down at her. Her knees must be bent, because otherwise she’d be nearly six inches taller than you, but you appreciate the shift in position even if it’s foreign. You’ve never noticed how thin the bridge of her nose is until now, and softly, unable to help yourself, you leaned down to kiss the unblemished and freckle-free skin. Her eyes fluttered closed at the close proximity of your faces, but if you thought that would’ve been enough to quell her scolding, you were wrong. “Do you hear me, dorogaya. Do not ever leave like that again.” Her fingers curled into the fabric of your sleep shirt and you felt your heart sink with guilt.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, not even sure if the weight behind your words was strong enough to reach her ears comprehensively. Tears brimmed within your eyes before you could stop them, and you felt small in your skin like it didn’t really fit on your body. Wanda pulled away from your embrace first, her head shaking firmly left to right as she unmade you with one simple look. You didn’t understand how she could do that, but you felt properly vulnerable beneath her heavy stare.

Her words were soft, and her hand reached out to tenderly hold your face. It would be weeks before they could trust that you wouldn’t go running away again. “Don’t apologize. There’s no reason to apologize.” She promised genuinely, even though you felt like that was the furthest thing from the truth. “I just need you to promise you’ll never run like that again. You don’t even know how badly you scared me, angel.” Her voice was raw, thin and shaky, and you realized quickly that the anger you’d been expecting was nowhere to be found. In place of it however, was worry and concern that could make even the worst person weak in the knees with sympathy.

“I won’t.” You returned the gentle whisper, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to collect yourself. Natasha still gripped you firmly and persistently, her hands clawing at the loose fabric of your sleep shirt like she was trying to get beneath it without really removing it at all. You’d never seen her so distressed before, and your eyes met Wanda’s in a panic not knowing what to do to console her.

Wanda smiled softly at you before her hand fell onto the small of Natasha’s back and rubbed gentle circles. You absorbed the little pieces of information that was being provided, pocketing them for a later date that in full transparency, you hoped never came. You didn’t like seeing her so out of sorts, and you especially didn’t like being the reason for it. “Ona nikuda ne denetsya, dorogaya. Teper' ty mozhesh' otpustit'. Posmotri na neye, ona nastoyashchaya. Ona bol'she ne uydet. Vse normal'no.” Wanda’s words were quick and soft, delivered in what you could only assume was Russia, but they seemed to work effectively because not even a second later, Natasha was pulling away from where she had attached herself to you and her eyes searched your face and body for any visible injuries.

“I’m okay.” You promised softly, not entirely sure if your word meant anything to her anymore, but hoping that they still did. You didn’t need to hear her internal questions to know what answer she wanted from you, and you were more than willing to provide what little information you could if it meant sparing you the heartbreak of having to witness her so broken down again. You didn’t have all the answers she wanted though, and that part pained you deeply. As much as you knew why you had run, and you could explain it to her if she asked, you didn’t have any valid reason as to why Wanda’s words had spooked you so much. Maybe it was the confirmation that things were really changing, or maybe it was something entirely different that you would never know. “A little sunburnt, but I’m okay.” You added when you sensed her hesitation to believe you, and she nodded curtly at your added affirmation. There was no denying the tautness in your cheeks, the only indication that sat on your skin that you’d wake up in lingering pain tomorrow. Sun burns had never been so common for you, but now you have one nearly every week.

Wanda guided your attention back to her carefully, not wanting to rattle you like she had hours prior. Your wide eyes stared into hers without any hesitation or reluctance, clinging onto the open silence that rested comfortably overtop of you. The walls that you had slowly been building for the last week were finally gone, and in their places was the girl that she knew was just desperate for affection and tender care. Wanda hadn’t realized how much she missed you until she had you back, and she promised herself she’d never let you slip so far away again. “Are you ready to talk to us, milaya moya?”

You nodded your head at her simple question, not wanting to avoid the topic any longer then you already had. It wouldn’t get any easier the longer you waited, and desperately you wanted all to be forgiven so you could lean up and kiss her. It didn’t feel right to do that now, not when you hadn’t offered her any kind of explanation or apology for your ongoing behavior. She took your hand routinely, a small habit that had formed in the weeks that followed the change in your relationship. She was always leading you around, always hovering and assuring that you were content and okay. If you were in a public space, she set the expectations that if you weren’t holding onto her or Natasha, you were within eyeshot. If you were in the car, even if she’d heard your seatbelt click into place, she was leaning over to fix it and assure it fell over your chest correctly. There was so much love in her simple actions, you felt like crying just recounting a few of them in your head. She guided you over to the couch, only letting go of your hand so that she could ease you down onto the soft cushions that welcomed your weight without protest and drape the soft blue blanket across your sun kissed thighs. You were thankful for the addition of your blanket, already cold from the abrupt displacement of the unfiltered sun against your skin.

“Can I go first?” Wanda asked cautiously once all three of you were settled on the couch. Natasha was curled up against the arm of the sofa, looking entirely unlike herself as she gnawed nervously on her bottom lip and flickered her gaze between you and Wanda. The Sokovian was in a similar position, though her hand was grasping yours securely and her thumb ran over your knuckling soothingly. Natasha made no attempt to touch you, and you tried to swallow down your disappointment. You didn’t deserve her touch, you were lucky enough to have Wanda.

You nodded at the lawyer's question, your eyes briefly trailing over to gaze at Natasha, wanting to assure that it was alright with her that you allow Wanda to take control of the conversation for the time being. It would give you time to get your own thoughts in order, and Natasha had no protests about the idea, inclining her head the slightest inch. Wanda smiled softly at the both of you, her grip never wavering around your hand. “I’ll start with what I think spooked you so badly this afternoon.” Wanda’s voice was soft and patient, no ounce of anger lingering in her tone like you’d been expecting. It was as if you’d already been forgiven for your week-long attitude and misbehavior, something that was still foreign to you after nearly a year of being treated this way. The Maximoff’s never went to bed angry, it was a rule within their own relationship that had also fallen upon you, but you aren’t sure that you’d ever get used to it. “I found the contract on my desk a few days ago. I thought nothing of it until I noticed how you started to pull away from Natasha and I.” You winced slightly, shame rushing over you, but Wanda merely smiled encouragingly down at you when she felt the minor movement. “I had hoped that you would come to us when you were ready to talk about it. I didn’t want to rush you into a conversation you couldn’t handle. Natasha and I work so well because we communicate with one another, sometimes it takes a couple of days for us to sort out our thoughts on something that we don’t agree with, but we make it a point not to hold any judgment until we have the full story. This is all so new to you still, I figured you might like the same curiosity. I can take responsibility for not addressing the issue sooner; for not letting you know that I saw you were upset right away. It must’ve seemed like we didn’t care about what was going on in that pretty little head of yours, but that was never the reason we didn’t say anything. Your feelings matter just as much as ours, this is not a one-sided relationship. You don’t have to make yourself small just so we’re not inconvenienced. With that being said, I shouldn’t have approached you the way that I did in the kitchen. That was a lot of new things all at once when you were already feeling pretty confused, huh?”

You listened intently to Wanda’s words, hanging onto her every syllable as you gave her your full undivided attention. At some point, Natasha’s body had curled into yours, but you barely even recognized the way she was trying to hold you as you let yourself fall into a world where only you and Wanda existed. Behind her, daylight had melted into blackness, nightfall in full swing overtop of Westview. The weight of her apology had struck a chord within your broken heart, and you’d almost violently flinched away from it, but by some miracle, you remained perfectly still. It didn’t feel right to be receiving such an honest apology, but you knew she’d only fight you on the matter if you spoke up about how undeserving you felt. You just barely managed to nod your head at her question, squeezing her hand tightly. “Yeah.”

“How did you feel about it?” She smiled encouragingly, always eager to hear your opinions on the new things they implemented when you were in the proper headspace to accurately communicate how it had made you feel. It was all still so new to you, and talking about sex felt like something cliche, but you tried your best for them. At the follow up question, you became faintly aware of how Natasha’s hand slipped beneath your t-shirt and sat firmly on the warm skin of your back, reassuring you that she was there as well and at the first sign of trouble she’d pull you out.

“I… liked it.” You admitted shyly, your gaze flickering down to the blanket that covered your thighs and brought a comforting warmth over your body that goosebumps had threatened to adorn had she not covered you so quickly. You found that running your fingers over the soft blue checkered pattern was more interesting than meeting Wanda’s intense stare, still not entirely used to the way that it made you feel vulnerable. “I didn’t like when you pulled away though.”

She smiled sympathetically, and this time it was genuine. Flashes of the earlier afternoon settled at the forefront of your memory, and you could distinctly recall how her grin had been anything but what it was now when you were pinned between her body and the counter writing in frustration. “You weren’t supposed to like that part, milaya. How do you feel about keeping ruined orgasms as punishment?”

“Okay.” You shrugged, not really having an opinion on the subject. It wasn’t something you hated, not even really something you minded if you were going to be honest, but the idea of incorporating it into your sex life felt too bold. If you were going to be giving yourself over to Wanda or Natasha, you didn’t want the decision of if you were going to be allowed to enjoy your climax fully to be fully over your head the entire time. You were aware enough to know that a situation like that would only trigger your anxiety.

“Okay.” Wanda copied your words, a teasing smile pulling at her lips when you finally mustered up the courage to meet her eyes again. A timid blush settled across your cheeks with heat that rivaled the summer sun, a shy smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you sat beneath her pride filled expression, but you didn’t back away from her stare, slowly gaining back the confidence you had lost. “Now, do you wanna tell us why you were so upset about the contract? I think we have a pretty good idea, but we need to hear it in your words.”

You swallowed thickly, almost tempted to shake your head and push the conversation off for another time, but Natasha gripped your waist soothingly and spared you a smile that felt limited now. You hated that you had been the cause of her distress, hated that it still lingered on her face and there was nothing you could do to amend it. You took a breath, trying to keep yourself together before you fell apart again. How do you tell two married women that you love them? There’s not exactly a handbook that goes through step-by-step explanations for this sort of conversation. “The contract ends soon. In less than eight weeks. I don’t– I can’t– I don’t want to just– You’re married!” You finally bellowed, frustration lacing your tone at the jumbled mess of words that got caught in the back of your throat before they’d even become full sentences. “You’re married and I’m just a contract and I– I like this. I like being here with you, and I’m scared about what happens when it ends and you have no obligation to keep me around. I thought that if I pushed you away it would make having to leave easier.”

You didn’t want to see the expressions on their faces as you cracked, everything you’d been meaning to tell them for weeks and long days finally out in front of you for them to analyze and criticize however they pleased. Maybe it wasn’t everything, maybe you’d kept some very major things to yourself, but it was enough to leave you feeling vulnerable and raw. Your eyes glimmered with tears, the lights in the room reflecting off of them in a way that allowed them to resemble stars. Wanda thought you were too pretty to cry, but she also couldn’t help but get lost in the galaxy you allowed the world to witness. It was Natasha’s voice that captured your attention, and your head snapped in her direction when the first words out of her mouth were an apology.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it clear to you how much I want you here, moy malen'kiy utenok.” Her voice cracked as she held onto your stare, feeling just as vulnerable as you as she let herself be less than a world-class lawyer for the time being. She was just Natalia right now, sat beside you with her own set of tears dampening her eyes and a pout that wasn’t quite a frown on her lips that were the same color as fresh unskinned peaches. She wasn’t Natasha, the version of herself who had her entire life figured out and laid in perfect rows ahead of her, but Natalia, the woman who had just barely survived childhood in Russia before she was adopted by a family that had just barely escaped years prior. Even if Melina and Alexei weren’t perfect parents, they tried so hard to be the remedy that her shattered heart needed. The words Melina had engraved in her mind were the only thing that kept her talking as she stared down at you. You didn’t realize that behind you, Wanda was mouthing the words like a mantra, an added element of encouragement that Natasha didn’t really need, but appreciated nonetheless; ‘Pain only makes you stronger, big girl. Do not cry over the growth you are experiencing’. “You are not just a contract. You’ve never been just a contract, I hate that you even think that’s all you are. Before I met Wanda, the only person I had ever known how to love was Yelena. And even then, I didn’t do it right most of the time. My parents… they believed that love was your greatest weakness. They taught me how to hate, and how to hide who I am. I’m still learning how to let people in.” Natasha drew a shaky breath in, her fingers that rested on the skin of your hip clutched you tightly, begging you to stay; to see and believe the truth in her words. “I put that end date on your contract so that you would have the choice to decide if, when the year ended, you wanted to stay. It was never meant to be an official end. Honey, I could never let you walk out of my life. Not fully. Not without at least trying to get you to stay. I look forward to coming home to you just as much as I look forward to coming home to Wanda. YA tebya lyublyu.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the whispered confession she was certain you couldn’t understand. You heard her and Wanda whisper sweet nothings in their native languages often, but you never paid close enough attention to them. It had always felt intimate, like a secret only they were allowed to know, but you’d spent countless hours teaching yourself simpler phrases and sayings. A wet smile pulled your lips firmly upward, and you leaned just close enough for your forehead to brush against Natasha’s. You didn’t know she’d done the same thing to Wanda earlier, but Sokovian smiled softly at your likeness, even if the both of you were painfully blind to it.

“I love you too.” You whispered back, your eyes locked firmly on the Russian’s. You smirked smugly at the expression of pure surprise that easily captured Natasha’s features, and you fondly remembered a similar look crossing Wanda’s face when you had pleaded with her to stop teasing. “I’ve been teaching myself. Little phrases, nothing major, not yet at least. I can’t speak it very well, but I can confidently understand when you call me an idiot and think I’m none the wiser.” Wanda laughed softly at your admission, though Natasha’s cheeks flushed crimson knowing she’d been caught, on multiple occasions. She always did it affectionately, that was never a question in your mind, but you enjoyed teasing her, and you especially enjoyed seeing that warm smile come back to her face. “YA tebya lyublyu.” You whispered to her, your face mere inches from hers.

“Say it again.” Natasha demanded, her eyes laced with lust that hadn’t been taken care of by your hands in days. You would certainly need to fix that. You merely remained smug against your spot on the couch, acutely aware of how Wanda’s arms circled around your waist and pinned you to her chest. You raised your hands to cup her still flushed cheeks, gingerly pressing your lips to her nose in a kiss too soft to fully quench her need for you. With her face in your hands, you briefly flashed back to the impromptu escapade you’d embarked on in the shower on the morning of their Memorial Day barbeque, more specifically how quickly she’d managed to flip your position in a matter of seconds, but you still dared to try and remain the one in control anyway.

You shook your head at her request, certain that your lips would remain in a permanent smirk if she didn’t do something about it soon. “Show me.” You uttered, the need to taunt her thick and evident in your simple demand that only further drove her crazy. “Show me how much you love me, Nat.” The breathiness of your words brushed against her face, and she didn’t hesitate to comply for a single second. She’d be a proper full to turn you down.

Lips that tasted faintly of cherry met yours in a passionate embrace that had a moan slipping from your open mouth and into hers. The force of her attack had been unsuspected, and it sent you falling backward into Wanda who accepted the heavy weight of your body against hers greedily. There was no fight for dominance, no urgency in Natasha’s kiss. She had kissed you a million times before but none had ever felt so vulnerable and real and right. You weren’t kissing her as your dominant. No, for the first time ever you were kissing her as the woman you loved. She licked at you slowly, tasting every inch of your mouth like it was the first and last time she’d ever have the opportunity to do so, and you allowed her that freedom without complaint. Your tongue clashed with hers on multiple occasions, the both of you too eager to prove your love that rhythm failed you. Each time your tongue touched, you moaned in tandem and grew red in the face. Not from embarrassment, but because neither of you had come up for air since leaning forward. Wanda, despite not being a part of your make-out session, had made herself busy behind you, not wanting to miss out entirely. Her soft lips ran over the skin on your neck, dampened by her tongue that had swept across them eager. She was careful not to hurt you, knowing all the places that became especially sensitive when you were turned on, but she made every effort to make her claim against your skin as she bit and sucked on expanses of skin that had miraculously remained unmarked until this moment. When Natasha bit down on your bottom lip, you couldn’t take the pleasure any longer, and your head tilted backward in pure ecstasy.

“I want– I want your clothes off. Both of you..” You choked out breathlessly, just barely managing to pull yourself away from Wanda’s mouth on your neck, despite wanting to drown yourself in the sensations she was causing to shoot down your spine. You could appreciate their slow pace another day, but right now, all you wanted was to have them fully, to take their bodies into your hands and make them cum. It had been far too long since you’d last had the privilege.

“Look at you making demands.” Wanda teased, her teeth nipping at your neck one last time before she complied with your request. You had half the mind to push her away and roll your eyes in fond exasperation, but Natasha feverishly stripping out of her clothes had distracted you before the words could fall from between your lips in a rushed mumble. The Russian wasted no time in making the act look sexy, you’d seen her be sexy about three million and one times. Right now was not about appearances, it was solely about connecting with the two women you loved. The women you loved. The women who loved you. Even if Wanda hadn’t said it, letting you have your moment with Natasha, you felt it. You felt it in the way she’d held you so tightly at the door. You felt it in the way she made sure you had a blanket when she sat you down to talk. You felt it now as the tenderness of your neck set in firmly. You were so beyond loved, and you loved them so beyond much. Natasha’s hair was a tousled and properly frizzy mess by the time she had actually managed to pull her shirt away from her body and discard it haphazardly on the floor to be picked up later, but you thought she looked stunning with wild curls framing her face and a flush blush to her cheeks and neck. Her leggings went next, and with them came a set of royal blue panties you’d never seen before. You’d definitely be making it known how much you loved them when you were in the proper mindset to speak full sentences.

Wanda forced your head in her direction after her clothes had joined the already existing heap of fabric on the floor. Your sleep shirt and shorts were nestled somewhere between the both of their more presentable outfits, but you couldn’t help but think the difference of wardrobe perfectly summarized your relationship. It felt especially fitting in this moment with your body pressed between the both of them. Wanda pulled you in for a desperate kiss, her lips softer then Natasha’s but her teeth crueler. You whined when she pulled away too soon for your liking, but it was replaced with a desperate moan when she breathed out instructions against your lips, “You’re going to eat me out, and Natasha’s going to finger you.”

“What about– What about Nat?” You questioned, but Wanda was already lowering her position on the couch and spreading her legs for you to see her fully. You groaned at the wetness that clung to the inside of her thighs, not even sparing a single second before you dove straight into her dripping cunt. The first taste of her arousal against your tongue had forced you into autopilot. You’d become fluent in the language of her pussy, and it hadn’t failed you yet as you lapped at her clit with a heavy pressure and let your fingers explore her entrance before they dipped in fully. You hadn’t thought that this could get any better, but then you felt Natasha’s warm cunt settle firmly against the back of your flexed calf. Your doggy position gave her the perfect chiseled surface to grind against however she pleased. You didn’t have questions about her pleasure anymore, knowing exactly how the Russian planned to cum; on your leg.

The groan that slipped past your lips when two of her fingers pushed against your weeping entrance shot right into Wanda’s clit, and the Sokovian moaned loudly at the sensation that tickled up her belly and through her spine. Your tongue worked double time against her sensitive bundle of nerves, and eventually your fingers found a brutal pace that matched Natasha’s. Every time the Russian’s fingers curled into your softest spot, yours curled into Wanda’s. Every time the Russian’s hips stuttered against your calf, your tongue flicked harshly at Wanda’s clit. Your motions were perfectly in sync. They weren’t romantic, they lacked grace and care, but they were exactly what you all needed in this moment. When Wanda cried out in pleasure that came solely from your mouth and fingers, a complete sense of pride washed over you. Your tongue didn’t stop caressing her clit, working her farther and farther up the hill Natasha had you climbing steadily.

It was only when the Russian’s thumb rubbed a particularly harsh and tight circle against your clit that you came with a body shaking moan that effectively pushed Wanda over that same edge. Natasha wasn’t far behind, and when you’d only just started to come down from your intense high, she was reaching hers. Her hips stuttered and jerked against your naked calf that glistened with her juices undoubtedly, and you couldn’t stop yourself from flexing the muscle beneath her weight. You collapsed against Wanda’s chest the second you had felt Natasha go slack behind you, and slowly, you pulled your fingers from where they rested in her cunt. Cheekily, you licked them clean, maintaining eye contact all the while. Natasha wasn’t as selfish. Her fingers shot out to Wanda’s lips in a second, and the Sokovian allowed their weighted presence in her mouth as she lapped up for juices. The sight was unreal, and if you hadn’t already been jello against her chest, you were certain you would’ve melted into her.

“Wands?” You called out sleepy, not having the energy to even crane your head and search for her eyes in the dim lighting of the living room.

“Yes, dorogaya?” She answered you softly, her own eyes fluttering closed just as Natasha found a comfortable position against the back of the couch. Your limbs were entangled, thighs between thighs and ankles crossed over, but you made it work. It would leave you with a serious kink in your neck tomorrow, but for tonight, it was the only place you wanted to be.

“I love you too.” You whispered in Sokovian, having practiced them tirelessly since the first day you realized that your feelings for Wanda had never been hatred. You found that the languages merged beautifully together, but you wanted Wanda to feel just as seen and special as Natasha. You didn’t see her face when the words fell from your lips, you wish you’d had the energy to look at her when you finally admitted defeat and gave into your confused feelings, but just feeling the way her breath hitched in your chest was enough for you in this moment.

Her hand, still adorned with rings that were cold to the touch, fell onto the small of your back like they’d always belonged exactly there, and held you to her chest tightly, not wanting to risk for even a single moment that if she wasn’t touching you, you’d fall away and never return. “I love you too, sweetheart. So much. You don’t even know.”

“I do.” You whispered, your eyelids heavy and unable to fight against sleep, but there was one last thing that you wanted to say before you gave in entirely and left this perfect moment to be just another memory. “Natty?” You called, hoping the Russian was still awake against your side.

“Yes, moya lyubov’.” Her voice was thick, gravely as it fell into the silence that was pulling you deeper beneath the blanket of dreamland that hadn’t felt peaceful in days.

“YA tebya lyublyu.” You barely managed to get out, but you did, and just before you fell asleep, you heard her mumble back the same.

It may not be perfect, but it didn’t really need to be.

I know that, Natalia. YA nikogda ne zadavalsya etim voprosom. Nikodga. YA tozhe yeye lyublyu. YA lyublyu vas oboikh. — I never questioned that. I love her too. I love both of you.

My skazali, chto eto ne bylo nikakikh usloviy. My smotreli Pinokkio, i ty spel mne etu pesnyu. YA obeshchal tebe nikakikh usloviy. — We said it was no strings attached. We watched Pinnochio and you sang the song to me. I promised you no strings.

Vsegda byli kakiye-to usloviya, dorogaya. Menya ustraivayut eti struny. YA khochu eti struny. — There was always going to be strings attached, honey. I'm okay with these strings. I want these strings.

Ona nikuda ne denetsya, dorogaya. Teper' ty mozhesh' otpustit'. Posmotri na neye, ona nastoyashchaya. Ona bol'she ne uydet. Vse normal'no. — She's not going anywhere, darling. You can let go now. Look at her, she's real. She's not leaving again. It's okay.

moy malen'kiy utenok — my little duckling

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stariikis · 19 days

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ni-ki as your study date •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

synopsis ; the price you paid for choosing an athletic boyfriend over an academic one? no practical help when you're drowning in mysterious equations and symbols. but at least he's good at comforting the perfectionist in you.

pairing ; athletic!nishimura riki x academic achiever!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 802 warnings n notes ; dear readers, these two are mentally suffering because one doesn't care and the other cares too much! trigger warning, bio phys chem and math mentioned..

“-And during PE we played badminton, and Jake hyung was soooo bad today. He kept trying to smash but missed the shuttlecock.” Beside you, with his “I-swear-I’ll-finish-three-chapters-today” Physics textbook hardly opened to the first page, Riki doesn’t stop rambling about the various sports he’s played today. You’ve heard enough about the goals he scored during an impromptu morning game of football. The way his best friend fumbled during a badminton match. How his legs ache from standing in the sun for hours during baseball training. You’re about to tug him out the cafe by his jersey.

“Are you going to start your notes or what?” You shove him with a lighthearted tone, barely concealing the exasperation behind your words. “All that talk about wanting to finally get an A but you still keep yapping. About sports, no less.”

Riki rolls his eyes and mock-salutes in your direction. “Yes, ma’am.”

Taking a sip of your matcha latte, you sigh resolutely and return to examine various electronic configurations. Perhaps now, Riki will leave you in peace…

Only five minutes later, you’re snapped out of focus with a sheepish nudge.

“What’s a moment…” “OH my days Nishimura Riki how can you not know what a moment is that’s like basic physics you’re supposed to have known that since we started chapter TWO.”

Shrinking under your scoldings, he glances back at his textbook, reads the definition and looks back towards you. “I don’t get it.”

With another heavy sigh, you scoot closer and attempt to explain as simply as you possibly can. However, he’s deliberately distracting you, with playful caresses through your hair and touches of kisses as smooth as silk on your cheek. You’ve got to be turning a beetroot red, but you ignore the warmth spreading through your cheeks and continue on.

“Now repeat what I just said to you.” Refusing to give in to his silly antics, you cross your arms and lean back. Swiping the hair his fingers touched, not too long ago, out the way.

He pouts, knowing him acting cute is your soft spot. “That’s not fair.”

“Why?” You press, but relent and hunch back over your notes. “You know what, just focus on relearning your balanced forces. Do you remember what the principles of moments even is?” Oh wait, he doesn’t even know what a moment is. The way he blinks once at his textbook and blinks twice your way proves this.

“At this point, I’m not dead, you’re more cooked than I am. And I am cooked.”

Gasping scandalously, he whisper shouts, “You’re literally my academic goal, what are you on? I wish I had the motivation you did. Okay, more like I wish I had your grades, but we both know that’s not happening.”

He gestures to all the bruises he’s obtained over the past week, scratches and wounds that demonstrate how dedicated he is to all the sports he partakes in. They’re his own personal souveniers. Although most fade quickly, some leave scars burning in his skin, but he’s proud of them all even when you express your concern for him.

He’s always been like that. Dismissive of concerning matters because he enjoys showing people how strong he is. Internally and externally. The complete opposite of him, one Maths question you get wrong and you start questioning the very bane of your existence.

You fall into silence, looking back at your notes. You have lost track of where Chemistry starts and ends, your paper copy of the periodic table crumpled and defaced from your bursts of frustration. You may not show it, but there’s so much going on in your head it’s hard to escape the fog you’ve mentally put yourself in. With the crazy STEM course you’ve chosen, you know that you’re definitely on the train tracks with a sign pointing towards a crash site.

Either you shut yourself out and pass with flying colours, or you enjoy life and fail miserably. There’s no in between. Is it so hard to want to maintain a social life and a healthy relationship, while topping your class and achieving high honours? Perhaps it is.

Noticing your sudden stillness, Riki panics. “You’re stressing out again. Why are you stressing out again? You’re doing well. Well, compared to me. Should I just do bio? Things with numbers are always complicated..”

You laugh as he looks back at his noteless textbook.

“Anyway, I think you’re doing just fine.” Riki murmurs, massaging your back with his hand. “Don’t overwork yourself and you’ll be fine. Just like you were, and always will be. Do you want me to test you?”

“That’d be nice…” You smile, watching his eyes light up a little too eagerly when he closes his textbook. “But you’re just saying that so you don’t have to study anymore, right?”

how life be feeling rn, send prayers

417 notes · View notes

charles-leclerizz · 2 months

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🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ peaches

🏁 Pairings : Lando Norris X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : none! just fluffy times

🏁 Word Count : 4.0k words (4070 words)

🏁 Author's note : This is probably the most chaotic thing i have ever written, so I hope you can make sense of it (hope being the key word) Make sure to lilke and reblog (anything is appreciated, but comments and reblogs fuel this sad little writer). The word dividers this time are also from @plum98!

🏁 Music player : This will be by Natalie Cole

“God he’s hopeless.” Oscar observed his entranced teammate stumble over his words from beneath the shade of the umbrella set up to the side of the filming area. Having finished his own media duties, he was now watching, unimpressed, as his friend attempted to use his remaining two braincells to blubber at you, like a fish out of water.

To be fair, you were also blubbering, your cheeks were red and hands shaking as you sorted through the white, glossy cue cards that had the signature McLaren logo printed on the back. You shuffled the cards mindlessly, humming under your breath after the third question was answered and Lando had maintained eye-contact with you for a minute too long, staring into the depths of your irises when the last syllable had left his lips causing your heart to stutter at a pace that had to be confirmed as medically concerning.

“U-um, right, okay so.” You attempted for the sixth time, your fingers finally finding purchase on a new piece of cardstock that contained the fourth question printed on one side in large, sans-serif font.

“Ehm-“ You cleared your throat, flipping a piece of hair over your shoulder as you looked back up at the driver who sat in front of you, enthralled by the minute movements you made. Like the arch of your brow, the dip of your lip and the curve of your collarbone that lay exposed, thanks to the strapless, silk corset you had opted to wear.

“Right, the fans want to know Lando. Who’s your favourite thing to eat?” You said with. Pseudo-confidence, oblivious to your mistake.

Lando’s eyes widened as a few chuckles bristled around the small crowd of camera technicians and other personnel that filled the McLaren media pen “Excuse me?”

“Huh-“ You blink a few times, “Oh shit- no.” You begin to wave your hands in front of your burning face, “I meant, what. What is your favourite snack, or meal to eat before a race?” You blurt out the correction.

“Oh- oh thank God. I don’t think I would have been able to say that.” Lando chuckles, despite the rogue blush that had spread from his neck to his ears, “Normally, I like to have snickers?” He offers, “Especially before a race, it’s a tradition. My dad used to buy them for me, during my karting days” Lando smiles at you, bracing his elbows on the arm rests of his seat whilst tilting his head boyishly.

You go silent for a few minutes, staring at him as your mouth opens and closes uselessly, your mind was fuzzy, and you could swear that you could hear the blood rushing past your ears.

With a heart beating wildly you plaster on a dazzling smile, “Watch the stock prices shoot up.” You joke, focusing on his shirt instead of his face, to protect yourself from his irresistible gaze, “Well Lando, I wish you the best for the race, here in Singapore later in the week.” You lift your eyes from the very interesting speck of dust on the front of his McLaren jersey to meet his hazel eyes, “On behalf of the entire Sky sports team, of course, not just me, that would be weird-“

He cocks his head at your rambling, huffing out an amused laugh, “Thank you,” he returns, as if your well-wishes were probably the only thing that made him want to participate in the race.

But that’s ridiculous, right?

The media segment had finally ended, having collected enough material for the next week in Singapore and you were thankful for it.

The few hours that you had been interacting with the driving duo was excruciating, not only from the sweltering afternoon that you found yourselves in, but also the fact that Lando was always in your line of sight, laughing at something that Oscar had said or screeching hysterically over the periscope goggles that he was struggling with. He was always there.

Some may say that it was “your job” but frankly you found it insulting. Because he wouldn’t let you do your job, you were either blushing too hard, sweating too much or your heart was about to end your existence with its erratic beating.

“I’m just glad it’s over” You pout to May, your producer. She was sweet and imaginative, always carrying around a leatherbound, flowery notepad to scribble new and creative ideas for interview styles to attempt with the 5-year-old men that you were tasked with interacting with.

“It wasn’t that bad” She comforted you, handing over a chilled water bottle whilst an on-set assistant dabbed at your forehead with a damp towel, “I honestly thought that you were having a heart attack, couldn’t even tell that you liked him.”

“She’s right y’know” A third voice burst into the conversation suddenly, which caused you to jump and clamp your hand down on the half open water bottle, sending the cool jet of water straight up the man’s nose.

“Oscar!” May shouted, holding a hand over her daisy detailed blouse with shock as she signalled to another assistant to grab a towel for the driver, who was currently holding his nostrils and attempting to plunge out the of water that had lodged itself up his nose.

“I’m fine,” He snorted whilst dripping onto the sizzling concrete and dabbing the cloth on his face, “For the record, I was worried for your health halfway through that painting task. But that was before I noticed you drooling over Lando.”

You groaned, running both hands up your face to your hairline before threading your fingers through your scalp and pressing the strands away from your forehead, “It’s not fair,” you whined, “He was distracting me throughout the whole thing. I probably look like a mess on camera,” You press the pads of your fingers against your temples.

The whole ordeal made you want to cry, or vomit perhaps both? It was hellish having to endure him staring into your soul the entire interview segment and endearingly answer all your questions with unnecessary detail.

What a jerk.

“Nah, you looked good.” A fourth voice popped in. And much like Oscar’s intrusion, it made you jump, but instead of squeezing your bottle and waterboarding the person, you shrieked and swung, as hard as you could towards the source. Making impact with the side of their face.

A very familiar face which had whipped around like a grape on a toothpick. A face that emitted a groan whilst a hand came up to soothe the quickly forming bruise.

“Fuck me” You groaned, bending over to help Lando who was still checking for any blood that may be leaking from the side of his face.

“Well, I would be honoured, but I think you did permanent damage,” He joked, standing to his full height whilst you brought your hand up to tap the purple-ish skin with a light, albeit panicked hand.

“Oh Lando,” you hissed when he clenched his teeth as you pressed against his cheek, “I’m so sorry.” You whispered on instinct, continuing to stroke the skin whilst May came up to the two of you, having recovered from the shock of you assaulting Lando and rushed to procure a bruising ointment.

You turned around quickly, thanking your friend as she handed of the white tube into your palm, not noticing that half of your hair had slapped the man in front of you in the face, “Oh come on,” you heard him garble through the clumps of hair that had made its way into his mouth.

“Shit, sorry,” You apologise for the umpteenth time in the few hours that you had spent in the close vicinity of him, “I can’t get it together for some reason.” You offer the dull explanation whilst stepping closer with a thick strip of the ointment spread between your fingers.

“Yeah” He murmured, eyes more focussed on your concentrated expression that was barely millimetres away from him, “I can tell.” His breath tickled your ear as you stood on your tiptoes and rubbed the ointment onto his face, it made you blush and realise how close your faces were. How easily you could turn your neck and graze your lips against his, or bump your noses together like a sweet, long-term couple who were used to your clumsiness.

Fat chance

You stepped back, taking one of the discarded towels from the table to the left of the pair of you, “I’m so sorry again,” you apologised, wiping away the remaining cream from your hand and moved to pick up your purse from the surface next to you.

“You could make it up to me?” He offered, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking on the balls of his feet.

You cock your head, removing the hand that was rooting around in your purse- searching for your phone and let it hand limp “How?”

“What are you doing today?”

“Nothing much,” you offered, shrugging, “Not my first time in Singapore, I’ve been working with F1 for a year. Just wanted to hit some stores that I didn’t get to last time.”

It was true, last year was your first year and like the dedicated rookie you were, you holed yourself up in your room doing pre-liminary research for the upcoming days on all things related to the Singapore track along with the prestigious millionaire drivers that came attached. This was despite the long list of high-end stores, cute cafes and boutiques that you had made in your apartment back home, before the season began.

Luckily, you had managed to hit one or two of them up before the next race. But there were many remaining which you were desperate to visit.

“Let me take you out then,” His eyes glittered with enthusiasm as he unpocketed one of his hands and reached towards yours, brushing against your soft knuckles and running down the divots of your hand before dropping to his side, “Anywhere you want.” He promised.

“I have a long list Lando, and you have a race, or have you forgotten?” You tease him despite your barely inflated lungs and dry, anticipatory throat.

“Haven’t forgotten,” He argues, “I don’t have to-“ His breathe hitched as he watched you reach out to intertwine your fingers with his, gently as if your movements were a fleeting butterfly and could easily be lost as such, “Don’t have to be training the whole day- just give me your number and text me the places you want to go?”

“Okay,” You settled, keeping your pinkie fingers locked together as you stepped impossibly closer to him and handed him your card, a small glossy cardstock with the sky sports logo printed on one side whilst on the other had your name, number and “Formula 1 presenter and interviewer” centre-aligned in black font.

“Cute,” He flipped the card over in his free hand before looking up from the paper and into your eyes, bouncing his pupils over your entire face as though he was memorising each feature up close and personal, “I’ll see you later.”

You nod, biting your lip as your stand on your toes again and press your glossy lips against the scruff of his cheek, “I hope so.”

You had handed off your contact details to Lando on Tuesday. Throughout the passing days, you both had texted each other constantly, any free treasured minutes in your schedule would be spent chatting with the other. It was now Thursday and still he had not brought up the date.

The “not-date”

Thankfully, you had managed to check off nearly half of your destinations on your list and the bags in your hotel room were evidence of such. Odd, thick shopping bags that were brightly coloured and bent in ways that could merely hint at their high-fashion origins, had taken over the bedroom, slowly pilling up by the dozen.

You stumbled out of the sleek, metallic elevator and winced with each step you took through the 20th floor foyer and down the corridor, each light-wood slab of the miscellaneous rooms had been allotted a cluster of numbers that morphed together in your tired eyes. It had been nearly four hours of running around, collecting information and small video snippets from all the teams as the entire PR team was rushing to put out the last round of pre-race content.

Your stiletto heels clicked to a stop when you finally reached your door, the electronic card reader waiting patiently for you to tap the key on its matte black surface. You rooted around in your purse, holding it open with one hand as you searched for the damn card, fearing that you may need to bother the sweet receptionist for another duplicate key.

Whilst looking around in your seemingly endless bag, your phone vibrated once...twice...thrice.

You unsheathed the device and clicked on the notification that popped up on your lock screen. Lando. He had left a small string of messages that made your heart flutter as though cupid had just struck you.

You looked pretty today.

Not that I was stalking you- I saw you when you came to garage.

I’m free for the rest of the day, can I take you out?

On a date. If you want.

You smiled to yourself, reading the messages repeatedly, imprinting them in your mind as you felt your blood swim through your arteries and blossom a deep red blush across your cheeks.

“Is it possible for someone to be this beautiful?” A familiar British accent sneaked up behind you, caressing the skin behind your ears as a minty fresh breath followed suit.

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask yourself.” You teased, turning on your heel to rest your back against the door, to face the handsome man that was currently grinning down at you. You clutched your phone to your chest, soothing the fluttering butterflies that escaped your stomach to scuttle throughout your body, suddenly, you weren’t very tired anymore.

“I would rather ask you,” He smirked, reaching to tuck away a rogue piece of hair that had escaped from your ponytail, his finger lingered on your nape, allowing his entire hand to cup the back of your neck and ghost the pads of his fingers across the expanse of your skin.

“Hi Lando,” You smile at him, leaning into his touch.

“Hey.” He whispered, more focused on analysing the tantalising swoop of your eyelashes and sleek slant of your nose. As one does.

“You ready to go?” he tilted his head at you.

“Well, I have an idea about where I want to go with you, I just need to change and re-do my makeup.”

“Okay, you want me to wait out here?” He offered, watching you as you brought your purse between your bodies, flitting through the mess within to finally, triumphantly present the room key. He giggled at the victorious squeal that escaped your lips as you brushed the card against the reader and skipped into the room.

“No, it’s fine. You can come in, just don’t judge the amount of shopping.” You warned him, already cautiously stepping over the French boutique bags that greeted you.

“It would be hard to fit my judgement into the room, there’s so much stuff,” He commented beginning to pick up various bags and place them onto any free surface as an attempt to clear the walkway.

“Ha Ha,” You laughed sarcastically, twisting your neck to stick your tongue out at him, “Let me find something to wear,” You bent down, searching through the few bags that sat on the bay window sofa.

“Do you have the directions to the place?” Lando inquired, watching you with interest as you held a small, teal bag over your head and went over to the other side of the room to search for shoes.

“Yeah, it’s a frozen yoghurt cafe, 0 sugar and vegan, I figured it will be good for you. Since you’re on a strict diet.” You shrugged, unaware of his touched expression. He was enamoured with you from the first time that you had sat down in front of him, stuttering over your questions despite your once cool, calm demeanour with his teammate. But the fact that you had considered his diet requirements was like the cherry on top.

“Oh- you didn’t have to. I could always break away from the diet.” He half expected you to jump at the opportunity to go someplace else.

“No no, it’s fine. I heard such great things about this cafe. I’m excited. Plus, I would’ve gone with or without you,” You snickered, walking towards his place, perched on the edge of your freshly made bed. Apparently, room service had conveniently avoided your shopping but had happily tackled the other features of the area.

“If you say so,” He relented bundling the soft comforter in his fists to stop himself from looping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. Luckily, you rested your arms on his shoulders and intertwined your fingers together at the start of his spine, burying them in his hair and twisting the curly strands with one digit.

“I do say so,” You nodded your head sharply, before retracting your arms and began to walk towards the bathroom, “Be right back,” you promised, slinking through the washroom door.

You pushed the sliding slab shut and flicked on the warm yellow light before pulling out the compact package of tissue paper, held together with a white, cream silk bow.

The paper crinkled loudly as you undid the ribbon to reveal the milky white dress that lay nestled within the packaging. A long, floor length number that contained embroidered butterflies on the final organza layer, layered on top of a chiffon slip with a middle veneer of muslin. The empress waist had folded over fabric that sinched in the silhouette along with emphasising the carmen neckline that sat sultry with the help of thin, pearly straps.

You slipped on the elegant dress, smoothing over the divoted attire whilst pulling and pushing at the material until you were satisfied. Your hair flowed freely along your back as you leaned forward towards the mirror, touching up your concealer and swiping generous amounts of your glossy, lip balm before slipping on a pair of black, matte kitten heels.

Finally, you were ready.

The door squeaked open as you stepped out, short heels clicking on the marble floor as you stopped around the bend of the wall, calling out for him, “Lando?”

He turns towards your voice curiously, floppy brown hair bouncing with his movements, “Yeah?” He answers, standing up and pocketing his phone.

“I’m ready,” You reveal yourself to his gaze, smiling happily when his mouth pops open and eyes widen substantially.

“Wow, you look amazing.” His eyebrows furrow as he takes in your outfit, biting his lip whilst walking towards you, “Glad I asked you out when I did, otherwise I would be in trouble.”

“Yes, you are quite lucky,” You agree, patting his chest as you adjust the collar of his shirt, “Let’s go?” You offer, hooking your arm with his by the elbow.

He looks down momentarily before smiling toothily, “Let’s” He nods and opens the door.

Lando held the large cup of frozen yogurt in his palm, itching to dig the small plastic spoon into the tall peak of cold, white cream that was covered in melted dark chocolate, “You got the photo?”

“Yes, sorry,“ You tuck your phone back into the inefficiently small purse that hung from your shoulder, “You taste it first, I feel like you’ll burst if you don’t” you chuckle at his expression as he fills the spoon with the cold dessert and places it in his mouth, he groans pleasurably as his eyes roll back.

“Holy shit that’s good.” He compliments, holding out the paper cup to you.

“I would hope so, looks like you just orgasmed,” You take your own plastic spoon and taste the treat, “Never mind, your reaction is valid, it’s so good.” You hum.

“I know right?” He continues to eat, keeping his right hand steady as he shuffles around you from your left to the other side, so that his free hand could intertwine with yours.

“I could’ve just moved?” You giggle, swinging your hands up and down as you lean to take another bite.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” He shrugged, licking his spoon free of the remaining frozen yogurt as you continued down the street and across the street towards Pearl Hill Park.

You both continued to chat animatedly, taking bites of the sweet yogurt between the two of you as you enter the park and walk down the foot path, admiring the large canopying trees and delicate flower’s that littered the shrubbery which lined the walkway.

“You’ve never had a boyfriend?” Lando clarifies, his eyes bugging out with shock.

“I mean, guys have liked me, and I’ve had crushes. But boyfriend? Never had anyone that serious,” You confirm, unbothered with his reaction.

“How?”

“I don’t know! I never asked and I never have got asked,” You defend your single status.

Lando nods, squeezing your hand in his as he kicks a small pebble beneath his feet, “But you’re so beautiful.” He murmurs penultimately beneath his breath.

“What?”

“What?” He looks at you, surprised that you heard him.

“Nothing,” You dismiss, your chest warming with the compliment, the sensation made you giggle to yourself and press your lips together.

The skin of your lips seemed dry against one another, causing you to stop walking, pausing the lazy travel around the man-made lake that you both were taking and remove a tube of flavoured lip balm from your purse. Lando pauses, watching you press the tube of the glossy moisturiser and lay a generous amount on your lips before twisting the top back on and dropping it back in your bag.

“What flavour is that? It’s so bright.” He snorts at the light pink coating that covers your mouth.

“Oh, is it too much?” You go to remove your compact mirror before you feel Lando hold your wrists gently, stopping you.

“No, you look perfect,” He assures you, softly laying his thumb beneath the swell of your lip and pulling the skin down slowly, “I was just curious of the flavour.” He muses, supressing a grin at your dazed expression as you fight away the feeling of your eyelashes fluttering closed in anticipation for his lips on yours.

“Um..I think it’s peach?” You offer.

“Really?” He snorts, moving his face closer to yours, analysing your face for inhibitions towards his actions, only to be met with your rouge ears and innocent doe eyes looking at him, “Let me try,” He whispers, finally bringing his face closer to yours, allowing his breath to fan over your slightly parted lips. You finally connect your mouth together, one of your hands loops around his neck whilst the other hold his wrist as you savour the sweet taste of his lips against yours.

It was as though the blossoms that surrounded the two of you had begun to bloom within your mind, bursting with new life and innocence as the water rippled in the summer sun, casting glowing streaks against your faces like crystalline diamonds shimmering beneath a spotlight. This moment seemed to paint itself on the canvas of your mind, permanently memorised to never be forgotten.

Lando pulls away all too soon, resting his forehead against yours, “I can agree-“ He pants, “That it tastes like peach” he pulls away minutely to grin at you.

You grin back, licking your lips slowly, “Yeah, I guess it does.” You agree, pressing your mouths together again, desperate for the sacred dopamine that he filled you with. He smiled against your lips before you became conscience of your surrounds and broke apart. His eyebrows furrowed but nevertheless he caressed your cheek, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin beneath his finger.

Lando stepped back, taking your hand in his again to resume the slow, lazy steps around the lake, “You’ll watch that race then? From the garage?” He asked hopefully, looking down at you from your position on his shoulder.

“Peach?” He called out.

Your heart grew three times bigger at the nickname as you lifted your head from his body and looked at him earnestly, “Of course, I’ll be there in the orange.”

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion unavailable...over

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 3 months

Text

a/n: live from the meadowlands! i’m freezing my tits off in new jersey and getting ready to head into the stadium to scream my head off for the boys! so i figured it would be a perfect time to provide some best man mat smut - this is so unedited it’s not even funny, but i hope you guys enjoy and i’ll catch up with you all on monday once i’ve thawed out! 🧡💙🤍

word count: 3.3k

tw: dirty dancing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, fingering (f receiving), nipple play, creampie, let me know if there’s anything i missed

summary: it’s ethan and lenasia’s wedding day and mat’s the best man. it’s not your fault that he looks so damn good in a suit

“And if there’s anything you take away from this speech tonight, it’s yes, I can actually read! Let’s raise a toast to the bride and groom,” Mat smiles, laughs a little, and lifts his drink in the air to toast Ethan and Lenasia. You swallow a giggle and then a sip of champagne, setting the flute down on the table so you can call and cheer wildly as Ethan cups Lenasia’s face and kisses her deeply.

By the time the clapping tapers off, Mat is back in his seat next to you, his hand finding yours and lacing your fingers together. He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it, causing a blush to heat your cheeks. “How was it?” He asks, sounding slightly nervous, lips tilted in a self-conscious smile.

“Perfect,” you grin, leaning slightly into his personal space. “Who knew you were so good with words?” Your silk-covered knee knocks against his tuxedoed one.

Mat scoffs and takes a drink of water, his hand dwarfing the glass. “You know I’m very good with words, babe,” he winks at you. He sits back in his seat, watching as Lenasia’s maid of honor steps up to the front of the room to give her speech. The pad of his thumb rubs against the underside of your ring finger, catching on the pavé band of your engagement ring. You let your knee knock against Mat’s again and the corner of his mouth curves up in a smile, his attention focused on the speech.

A few short minutes later, you’re lifting your glasses in another toast to Ethan and Lenasia. Mat’s hand never leaves yours and he squeezes your fingers gently as he sips at his champagne. You can’t help but stare at him, taking in his mussed hair and unbuttoned shirt. The hint of skin and collarbone has you feeling overly warm. He’s always looked sinfully good in formalwear.

“Like what you see, babe?” He laughs, leaning into you when you’re sitting down again, starting to poke at the salads in front of you. His lips brush against your cheek and you shiver.

“Always,” you murmur back, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Just thinking about how good you look. How I didn’t get to see you at all today.”

Mat shifts in his seat and you grin wickedly, glancing down to see the effect your words are having on him. Since he’s the best man, he’d been up and out of the hotel room early to get ready, so all you’d gotten this morning was a rushed make-out session and an ass squeeze, leaving you unsatisfied.

“Later,” Mat whispers in your ear, a promise and a threat.

“I’m holding you to that,” you grin, turning your head slightly to capture his lips with yours. You bite down gently on his lower lip and Mat groans quietly into your mouth.

He presses a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth when you pull back and mutters, “gonna hold you to something, for sure.”

You snort a laugh and shake your head at him a little, pushing at his thigh where it’s pressed against yours. “You’re so cheesy,” you tease, digging into your salad.

“It’s weddings,” he replies around a mouthful of food. “They bring out my inner Hallmark movie hero.”

The subtle tease at your preferred guilty pleasure entertainment makes you roll your eyes. He joins in on watching the Christmas movies more than he’d ever admit. You smirk at him, “keep this energy up for Christmastime.”

After that, you both fall into conversation with your friends at the table, eating dinner as it’s served and drinking too much. Mat continuously delivers you bay breezes, the vodka flooding your veins and making you pleasantly tipsy by the time you’re on the dance floor.

Mat’s hands are all over your body, holding you close as you sway and scream along to the music, hips bumping together. Your hair is slowly starting to fall out of the updo you’d spent most of the morning working on, little pieces frizzing around your face and sticking to your forehead. Mat’s hands are hot on your skin through the silk of your dress, leaving a phantom impression whenever he moves them.

The music changes, slows down, and Mat pulls you close, hands landing on the curve of your ass. You grin at him, buzzing from the alcohol and skin tingling from his touch. His eyes are a little unfocused from his own drinking but he lands a kiss on your lips with precision accuracy. He tastes like whiskey and beer and Mat. You smile into the kiss, giggling when he grows sloppy, kissing the corners of your mouth. “You look gorgeous,” he says, mouth close to yours. “Like a…a…a gorgeous woman.”

You laugh out loud, clearly Mat’s drunker than you thought he was, and press yourself closer to him as you sway. “I thought you had a way with words?” You tease him, stroking your fingers through his hair and over the nape of his neck. He shudders in your arms at your touch, sensitive against your gentle ministrations.

“I said words, didn’t I?” He laughs, turning his head to kiss the inside of your arm. “You are gorgeous, what else m’I s’posed to say?”

“Hmm,” you hum, head pleasantly fuzzy from the drinks, “I dunno, anything else you think is appropriate.”

Mat’s silent, for once in his life, and Elvis croons about falling in love.

“How about,” he grins, holding you close and lowering his voice so you’re the only one who can hear him, “I wanna fuck you until you forget your own name.”

His breath ghosts against your cheek and your knees wobble, the surge of lust in your blood overwhelming. Your fingers tighten around Mat’s hair, tugging sharply, and you lean even closer to him, soaking up the warmth of his body. “I like that plan,” you giggle, the sound tapering off into a little gasp when the music changes and Mat grinds his hips into yours. The bulge of his cock presses against you, a promise for later.

The reception lasts into the wee hours of the morning, music bumping and drinks flowing. You’ve taken a spin around the dance floor with Ethan, scream-sung along to the Spice Girls with Lenasia and some of the bridesmaids, and given baby Gracie some cuddles before she was ushered off to bed by Lenasia’s mom.

Now it’s just the straggler, party-animals left and you’re once again in Mat’s arms, his chest pressed against your back. His hand is warm against your stomach, fingers splayed out to cover as much of you as he can. You lean your head back against his shoulder, swaying along to the music completely off-tempo. Mat’s lips are against your skin, kissing your temple, your hair, every inch of you he can reach.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “you’re so pretty.” His words are a little slurred, running into each other. “Someone should marry you.”

A drunken laugh startles out of your mouth and you lift your left hand, engagement ring glinting in the low lighting, back to curl in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. “Someone is,” you tease, kissing the point of his chin.

“Who?” He turns his head and plants a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek. “Cause I’ll fight him. I wanna marry you.”

“You dork,” you laugh, “you’re marrying me.”

Mat’s hand stops its movement over your stomach and chest, fingers frozen where they’re curled around your breast. “Oh fuck yes,” he crows. “How’d I forget that?”

“I don’t know, exactly how drunk are you, my love?” Your hand tangles further into Mat’s hair, hips never stopping their lazy grind against Mat’s groin. Your other hand cover’s Mat’s tracing over his knuckles and the veins underneath his skin. You’re not even remotely close to sober yourself, alcohol blurring the edges of all your thoughts, making your movements slow and loose.

“Not drunk enough that I won’t be able to fuck you in the hotel room,” he promises, biting down on your earlobe and making you shiver.

“Good,” you grind your ass back against his cock, grinning impishly when you feel him twitch against you, “I’ve been looking forward to it all night.”

His hand squeezes your breast tightly and you yelp a little, nipples pebbling under the silky fabric of your dress. Mat’s mouth marks a hot trail over your jaw and down your neck, kissing at the join of your neck and shoulder, burying his nose against your skin. “You smell good,” he mumbles, holding you close. ”Love you so much.”

“Love you,” you reply, squealing when Mat grabs your hand and twirls you out to the side and then back in, your back slamming against his chest when you lose your balance. He wraps his arms around your stomach, hands clasped over your belly button, chin resting on your shoulder, and sways along with the music.

Mat’s lips are hot on your skin, magnetized apparently since he can’t stop kissing your exposed neck and collarbone. You melt against him, leaning heavily into his embrace, butterflies kicking around in your stomach. Every shift of his hips presses his erection against your ass, hard heat searing through the thin silk of your dress. Arousal grows slick between your legs, your panties damp and your thighs gliding against each other.

He tugs gently at the fabric under his hands, bunching it a little so the hem of your dress starts to inch higher. His heart beats against your back, his bare chest hot against your skin. The fabric of Mat’s unbuttoned shirt tickles your sweaty skin and you wonder, deep in the back corner of your mind, where his tie went and if he’ll ever get it back. Then his palm is sliding up your thigh and you have no more thoughts, just the feeling of Mat’s skin on yours.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Mat whispers in your ear, his breath warm on your cheek. “Wanna be inside you.”

You nod and Mat drags you off, hand tight around yours, your heels clipping along the floor as you hurry to keep up with him.

——

“You taste like pineapples,” Mat comments, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth and laving over the pebbled bud with the flat of his tongue.

Your back arches, Mat’s hands at your lower back bracing you. “Oh my - god,” you gasp, “I sp-spilled a drink earlier.”

Mat licks up over the swell of your breast, sucking a mark at the top. He nuzzles his nose against the skin of your sternum and your breath hitches in your chest. Your hips roll over the bulge in his pants, soaking the fabric of his slacks.

Your panties have been tossed to the side and the skirt of your dress is bunched up around your waist, making it easier for you to straddle Mat’s lap. He’d made quick work of pulling the straps of your dress down over your arms, baring your breasts to him and wasting no time marking them up with his mouth.

“Love these tits,” he groans, licking a hot stripe through the valley between your breasts and up to the hollow of your throat. “Bouncing so perfectly while you ride me.”

You whine and dig your nails into his shoulders, “M’not riding you,” you complain, rolling your hips over his clothed lap. “Take your pants off and fuck me.”

His shirt is on the floor, hair mussed from your hands, but his slacks are still on and you’re getting frustrated, whiny and desperate for the burn of his cock in your cunt. Mat’s hands roam your back, one cupping the nape of your neck and the other sliding under the curve of your ass. His fingers tease at your entrance and you clench, a fresh rush of arousal staining his slacks.

“Mat,” you whine his name, pressing closer to his fingers and burying your face in the crook of his neck, “please, please, wanna fuck you. Wanna have you fill me up.”

“Needy,” Mat teases, kissing you solidly as he lifts you off his lap and deposits you on the mattress. “Touch yourself while you wait,” he demands, hand on his belt buckle. You blink up at him and he cocks his head, raising an eyebrow. “Go ahead, babe, give that pretty pussy the attention she deserves.”

With Mat’s gaze focused on your bare cunt, you bring your hand to the swollen, sensitive flesh. Your fingers tremble a little as you circle them around your clit, head falling back against the mattress and a breath stuttering out of your lungs. “Oh god,” you moan, applying more pressure and picking up your speed.

Distracted, you don’t realize Mat’s undoing his belt and pants, shucking them down his muscular legs and kicking them to the side. “There you go, baby,” he rasps, sitting back down on the mattress, watching arousal drip out of your cunt. “Gonna slide right in, you’re so fucking soaked.”

He fists his cock lazily, running the flat of his palm over the reddened tip. Your fingers stutter as you watch him, ready for him to fill you up. “Can I - Mat,” you exhale harshly, rubbing your fingers hard over your clit. He hasn’t told you to stop, so you won’t, but you’re losing patience. “Please,” your voice cracks a little and Mat takes pity on you, reaching his free hand for your thigh.

“Aw, come here, baby,” Mat murmurs, hauling you over his lap again, hand falling away from his cock. Your hands brace on his shoulders and you settle your knees on either side of Mat’s hips. “Gonna sit you right where you belong, stretched out on my cock, okay?”

You nod desperately, chanting his name and then gasping when Mat lines the head of his cock right at your entrance, dragging you down by the hips until your ass is flush against his thighs and his cock is fully sheathed in your cunt.

“Ohhhh god,” you moan, head falling back and hips moving of their own accord, bouncing on Mat’s cock. The drag of his cock against your walls is delicious, the bare heat of him blistering from the inside. “Feels so good, god, fuck, Mat.”

His fingers are tight on your hips and Mat’s eyes are locked on your bouncing tits. “Baby, god, so tight. Been wanting to fuck you all night, fill this pussy with my cum, lick it out of you, make you scream my name.” Filth drops from his lips until he can’t help himself and he leans in to tug one of your nipples with his teeth, grinning around you when you shriek.

His pace never stops, his hips bucking upwards into yours, his cock head hitting your g-spot and making you see stars. Your nails dig into Mat’s shoulders and your thighs burn with the bouncing, but your stomach is tightening with pleasure and you beg Mat not to stop, chanting his name.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles against your chest, slicking your tits with his spit, “come on my cock, baby. Soak my dick.” His hand snakes forward and he pinches at your clit, drawing a scream from your lips. Sweat drips down both of your bodies, mixing with your arousal on Mat’s thighs, the glide of his cock in your cunt so smooth.

With his cock pounding into you, his fingers on your clit, and his mouth on your nipples, Mat drags you over the cliff and your orgasm hits like a freight train. You come with a scream, gushing around his cock and soaking his lap. Mat’s not too far behind you, bucking his hips up into yours while you shake through the aftershocks of your orgasm. His cock thickens inside of you and you babble in his ear, talking to him and coaxing him into coming inside of you.

“Fuck, fuck, baby,” he grunts, biting hard on your shoulder when he comes, filling you with hot, thick ropes of cum. Tears well in your eyes at the sensation, toes curling. He flops backwards onto the mattress, taking you with him with a little yelp.

You’re crushed against Mat’s chest, the bunched up fabric of your dress sliding against your slick skin, his cock softening inside of you. You bury your face against Mat’s neck and giggle lightly, wiggling happily when Mat’s hands caress your asscheeks. He groans into your hair, “Squeaks, I think wedding sex is our thing.”

Your laughter is louder now, vibrating through your body. It’s not like there’s always that many opportunities - besides tonight, you’d been to three of your friends’ weddings this summer and honestly, yeah, you’d had some pretty mindblowing sex after all of those weddings too.

Your fingers card through Mat’s sweaty hair, pushing it off his face and tracing his browbone gently. “Hmm, just imagine how good it’s going to be after our own wedding,” you tease, biting at your lower lip.

Mat lifts his head to capture your lips with his, teasing at your lower lip with his tongue until you release it from your teeth. His fingers trail all over your lower body, dipping between your legs and dragging the mix of your fluids over your skin. “Wedding night sex?” He says when he pulls back, eyes twinkling with mischief, “that’s the night I’m supposed to pretend we’re both virgins who’ve never seen each others’ ankles, right?”

You laugh and shift, the movement dragging your messy cunt over his cock. Mat winces at the graze, soft against your thigh. “Hmm, I don’t think either of us can pretend to be virgins,” you kiss his cheek and reach down between your bodies to stroke your fingers over his lower stomach and then lower, over the hair at the base of his cock and cup his balls, enjoying the groan Mat can’t hold back when you squeeze gently. “Not with our raw animal magnetism.”

Mat snorts a laugh, “raw animal magnetism? Why am I marrying you again, you weirdo?”

“My world class roast chicken and gold medal blow jobs, obviously,” you flip your hair off your shoulder, immediately wincing when your fingers catch in a knot. “Oh fuck that. My hair is a rat’s nest.”

You roll off of Mat’s chest, legs still tangled with his. He rolls to his side and drapes a hand over your hip. You study his face, swollen lips and hazy expression in his eyes. Stubble is sprouting on his jaw and you reach up to scrape your fingers against it, making him smile and press his face into your touch like a cat. “You do make a really good roast chicken,” Mat mumbles, eyelids shutting. His blinks grow lazy and it takes a few seconds longer than usual for his eyelids to open again. You hum happily, still stroking his face.

Mat’s completely asleep a few minutes later, mouth wide open, drunken snores echoing throughout the room. You roll your eyes affectionately - how is this the man you’re going to marry?

Carefully, you wiggle off the bed so you can take off your dress and shower, the hot water soothing your muscles and washing away the sticky feeling between your legs. Your mind wanders as you shower, thinking about how amazing the wedding was and how much planning you’ll be doing in the upcoming year for your own wedding.

Mat’s still asleep when you get back into the room, but now he’s wrapped himself up in the sheets, sprawled out on his stomach. “Blanket thief,” you mutter, crawling up next to him and wiggling under the duvet. A bobby pin digs into your scalp and you run a hand through your hair, trying to dislodge it but too lazy to actually take your hair down. It shifts a bit, not actively lobotomizing you, so you close your eyes and press your face into the pillow, yawning wide enough to crack your jaw.

As sleep takes over, you feel Mat’s hand move around the mattress, finding yours and lacing his fingers with yours.

You fall asleep with a smile on your face.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal fic #nhl fic

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