Dean slumps against the brick wall, stabbing his finger at a series of numbers too blurry for him to see. He hopes they're the right ones. The phone starts to ring and all Dean can think is pick up, pick up, pick up-
"What're you wearing?" His voice crackles out of your speakerphone. He's drunk, really drunk. His words are sewn together by the handful of beers he's had tonight and they emerge rough and breathy.
"What ever happened to hello?" You say with an invisible smile, wiping the sleep from your eyes. You always make time for Dean.
"Hi." There's a silence on the other end, "I bet it's those panties with the red lace. Those are m'favorite."
"Dean!" You're glad he isn't here to see how red your checks get. "Are you okay? Where are you?"
"I went out. Sammy didn't wanna come-" You hear him say lame ass under his breath, "Sonsofbitches stopped serving me so I left. Found a payphone…was I right? About the panties?" A giggle slips from your lips. You try not to dwell on the fact that he's wasted and the only thing his mind can keep track of is you.
You lift up your bedsheets to look down at a pair of blush pink panties, he's wrong. But he doesn't need to know. "Yeah, how'd you know?"
"Winchester intuition." He says all confident, "You in bed?"
He got one thing right. "Yeah, I was asleep." You look at your bedside clock, 11:08pm. "It's late, you should call me from the motel."
Dean lets out a sigh of stubbornness, "No, Sammy's at the motel. And I wanna…" There's silence on the other line.
"You wanna what, Dean?"
"I jus' wanna hear you…I've been thinking about you." His voice drops an octave, "Been thinking about last month." The lust in his tone lights a warmth in your core. This is new. You turn in bed and squeeze your thighs together, thinking of when he was here last. You've washed your sheets since then but his scent always lingers.
"Oh, you have?" Your heart flutters.
"I don't wanna go back to the motel, baby." He groans, "I wanna be with you, in your bed-"
"And what do you wanna do in my bed?" You tease. Dean's grip on the phone tightens and his head rests against the wall.
"Anything you'll let me." He's a desperate mess who can't seem to shake the image of you from his thoughts. Case after case, he makes himself busy to pass time but when his head hits the pillow each night—there you are. Hearing your voice isn't enough, he needs you beneath him, singing his name again.
"Dean?" Your voice, soft and sleep-ridden, interrupts his thoughts.
The desire in his chest burns hotter and hotter. Words escape his lips on impulse, he can't help but let it all spill out. "I wanna to taste you again. I like eating that pretty pussy of yours. It's so sweet, you taste 's good." You press your legs tighter as the heat pulses hotter, sparking electricty in your core. You can feel your panties dampen as he continues, "I wanna make you come, again and again until you're pulling my hair to stop. I like when you do that."
"I'll remember that for next time."
"I wanna-" He stutters, "I need to you, baby. I need to feel you, tight, around me."
You whine, you can't help it. The breathing on the other line catches. "Where are you? Maybe I can pick you up?"
"Too far away, baby. Just- just keep talking to me." Dean's hand trails down his pants to palm the outside of his jeans, to finally give attention to the growing bulge beneath his zipper. His cock strains against the unforgiving denim. He was hard before he called but now that your sweet voice is on the other line, endulging his needs, Dean's cock aches for release.
"I've been thinking about you too, Dean." Your hand snakes down your stomach, "It's driving me crazy, actually. Whenever I can't stop thinking-" Your breath hitches as your fingers find your clit, applying light pressure on the sensitive bud. If only Dean knew how wet you get, just hearing his voice. "-I imagine you're here with me and I touch myself." The confession feels raw on your lips, an intimacy somehow greater than what the two of you have shared so far.
"Are you doing it now?" He exhales heavily. You imagine how worked up he is, if he's also finding relief with the sound of your voice. You wonder if he satisfies himself with thoughts of you, late at night after Sam's gone to bed.
"Yes." You say sweetly.
"What're you thinking 'bout now?"
"I'm thinking about what you said. You, on your knees, your head buried between my thighs." Your fingers slowly circle around your clit, mimicking how you imagine Dean's tongue, "Drinking from me like you want. You're so good at eating my pussy, Dean, no one can make me come like you do."
"Oh baby." Dean hums, making quick work to unlatch his belt buckle. You can hear the metal snap over the phone and you know he's touching himself now. "I can imagine you now, on your back, legs spread just for me, to show off that pretty pussy like the good girl that you are. You gonna be good for me, sweetheart?"
"I'll be so good for you, Dean." You sing, picking up the pace between your legs and rubbing your clit, back and forth, with ease. Pleasure begins to roll in waves through your core, spreading undeniable sparks across your nerves. "I want you to play with me with your tongue, lick me raw, until my thighs shake and I beg you to stop. Then I'll run my fingers through your hair and pull-"
Dean moan interrupts you, over the sound of his hard breaths you almost miss the sweet noise. "But I won't stop, baby. I'll grab your ass and jus' pull you close against my mouth. You can squirm all you want but I won't stop until you come again." Dean can't help but push his hand into his boxers. The back of his hand slides past the mess he's made thinking about you, precum stains the fabric, leaving wet spots on the walls of his underwear. The relief is immediate as he wraps around his shaft. Dean gives it a tug. His long lashes flutter shut as Dean then slides his fist over his weeping tip which throbs for more attention.
You shiver at the thought. You try to maintain a hold on your cellphone, pressing it against your ear, but with every word coming out of Dean's mouth your limbs grow weaker. You whimper with need, growing frustrated that all you can do is encircle your clit with your fingers and not chase your orgasm against Dean's thick tongue. You remember how he flattens it against your folds, slowly dragging it up and down the length of your core before swirling your clit like a man starved.
"Fuck-Dean." You say and your curiosity piques, "Are you touching yourself?"
"'Course, baby." He strains to respond. Without four walls of privacy, Dean is lucky the bar's parking lot is dead empty. What a sight to behold, Dean struggling to lean against the brick wall while his jeans are split at the zipper and his hand is shoved beneath his boxers, slowly pulsing with the beat of his hand. One hand holds the phone tight against his face, to hear every sound you make on the other end, while the other languidly strokes the length of his cock. "I could eat your pussy for days, baby, but I need to be inside of you."
"You wanna to be inside of me?" You toy with him.
"Yes. Please." The sound of Dean begging alone threatens to bring you over the edge. You dip your middle finger down to gather your slick and tease your entrance. Among your dizzying hunger, you're struck with disappointment as you clench around nothing, wishing Dean was on top of you instead. "How do you want me? I can stay on my back orrr I can go on my knees."
Dean thinks for a moment, "On your knees."
At his command, you rise to your knees. Placing the cellphone in front of you, you toggle speakerphone on and get on all fours in front of it, resting against the bed on your forearms. Your hand quickly returns between your legs to tease your clit. "I wish I could send you a pic. My ass is in the air and I'm dripping all over my sheets just waiting for you to fuck me."
Dean's hips buck into his fist, "Fuck- good girl." His voice rumbles through your speakers. "I bet you can't wait to take this cock."
"I can't, I wanna feel you inside of me right now. I wanna feel you stretch and break me with your cock until I can't take anymore."
"But you always take me, sweetheart, and you feel so fuckin' good. Are you using your fingers?" You groan in response, it's all he needs to hear, and Dean commands again, "Fuck yourself with your fingers for me, baby. Let me hear you." You don't hold back, you let out a hearty moan as you push your middle finger inside. You clench tightly around your finger, desperate for a thicker fill.
Dean squeezes his fist as you moan into the speaker. If he's quiet, he can hear the sloppy wetness of you thrusting your finger inside. Dean matches your pace with his fist, ignoring how his knees buckle and how his tip continues to leak in his underwear. "Yes, just like that." One, two, three needy pumps and Dean's moaning with you. He's louder than normal, more sensitive now that he's downed a handful of beers.
"Does it feel good, baby?" You coo at him, "Should I add another finger?"
He responds quickly, "Yes." You want to be a good girl, Dean's good girl, so you couple your middle with your index finger. The stretch feels so good, nothing like Dean, but enough that you buck against your hand. You scissor your fingers apart to find the right girth to match Dean. You whine when your index finger finds that spot, the pressure point that has your back arching like an animal. You desperately massage at the soft flesh of your inner walls, thrusting just like hewould. With both of your fingers now pumping inside of your heat, your lids fall shut and you let your head drop to the bed. "It feels so good, Dean, but I wish it was you."
"Me too, baby" He drawls, "I miss how tight you feel around me, how I try to pull out but you suck me in and I can't fuckin' stop." Dean's cock twitches, he's painfully hard and begging for release. His tip, swollen and red, weeps for you endlessly. All he wants is to spill inside of you, feel himself coat your inner walls with his seed and drive it deeper as you cry out beneath him.
"Dean-" Your voice emerges ragged and needy. Your walls flutter around your fingers and your head begins to spin,"I'm close" Dean applies more pressure around the base, mercilessly jerking himself as his hips buck with rhythm into his tightening fist.
"Fuck- me too, sweetheart." Dean says through gritted teeth, jerking himself faster to match your pace. He throws his head back against the wall as he shamelessly tugs at his cock, picturing your tight pussy swallow every delicious inch. A string of moans erupts from your lips in response as you approach the peak, "Fuck, Dean, I'm coming."
"Be a good girl then and come for me." You pump your fingers faster, giving extra care to that spot that has you crying out for more. You're a pathetic sight, hair wild with sweat and legs trembling as you fuck yourself on Dean's command. The spring coiled in your core winds ever tighter each time the pad of your finger grazes against your walls. Your body is consumed with a white heat. Your legs shake as you try to maintain composure but everything snaps when Dean groans into the speaker.
He's raptly listening to you come undone, using only the sound of your voice to chase his own ecstasy. The pressure in his groin is becoming unbearable. He doubles over, unable to keep himself standing straight. He's nearly there, he can feel his muscles clench and his toes curl. Dean whimpers as he twists his fist around his cock, pulsing over the head again and again. He throbs under his own touch. You're falling apart on the other end and Dean can't help but picture you beneath him. He imagines your face twisted in pleasure, mouth agape, as he drives his cock inside of you with reckless abandon. He can see your breasts bounce with the force, desperately wanting to grab the pillowy flesh with both hands. Beads of sweat collect on Dean's brow and he lets them fall to his chest, too enamoured with your sound to stop now.
The spring snaps and you're crying out for Dean. Your voice wavers as his name is spliced between lewd moans and whines as you're devoured by thundering waves of pleasure. You keep pushing your fingers inside of yourself, riding out your orgasm and letting Dean listen, like the good girl you are.
"Shit, ah-" Dean is quick to follow. One, two, three more pumps of his cock and Dean spills inside of his jeans. His eyes press shut as his desire shoots into his underwear, steaming hot and endlessly sticky. He says your name when he comes, annunciating every syllable in a tone akin to prayer. His fist slows as he tugs the last of his pleasure from the tip of his cock, letting it leak down his hand as punishment for his act.
You both come down from your highs. The only sound coming through both speakers is heavy panting as you try to catch your breaths. You're the first to speak.
"That was…"
But Dean interrupts, "Amazing. You're…amazing."
"Thank you, as are you." You giggle. And then, silence. Stark silence sobers Dean up and he's realized his depravity. He's an absolute mess, now sticky and wet alongside being alone in the parking lot of a shitty dive bar. He doesn't even know if he has enough quarters to call Sam to pick him up. But one thing is clear.
"I'll be in town in four days. Be ready." Is Dean's last instruction. The phone clicks and the line goes dead. A smile creeps across your face and you collapse on your bed.
I personally believe that Shane loves fishing with David but Ilya can’t imagine anything worse than sitting in a boat and waiting for hours, so he stays home with Yuna and they watch Steel Magnolias with face masks on and an entire bottle of wine each
ilya hanging out with The GuysTM and they get a little drunk and start talking about girls and sex and they make a game out of who has done the craziest thing in the bedroom and the guys say stuff like in high school i fucked my gf while her dad was home and yeah jessie wanted to tie me up the other day and ilya will say things like one time shane couldn’t sleep so i edged him the whole night and then made him cum so hard he passed out and slept for seven hours and shane bought this book with 100 different sex positions and we tried them all over three days and he made a spreadsheet and the guys just pat him on the back like sure roz, keep telling yourself that, there’s no way hollander wants anything but regular missionary for 8 minutes and no matter what ilya says they never believe him
The first time Ilya gets into a fight on the ice after Shane joins the team all the Centaurs make fun of him, telling his how much trouble he'll be in because Shane's been entirely silent since it happened and refuses to even look at Ilya, who got a split lip and a two minute penalty, so obviously Shane's going to have something to say about it.
Ilya's just trying to look contrite and go along with it while doing his best to hold back a smirk because that is not Shane's angry face, that is Shane's 'hurry the fuck up and take me home because I urgently need you inside me' face
getting so hard I’m gonna faint at the thought of some player chirping Ilya post coming out but it’s specifically targeted at Ilya’s mother (irina foundation being common knowledge) and for once, Ilya doesn’t have a comeback- he’s in a slump, he’s depressed, he’s feeling raw, and he freezes- just long enough for Shane to glide up, drop his gloves and punch the guy in the face so hard he knocks him out cold <3 that’s Shane’s man you’re talkin to <3
In love with the concept of Ilya pretending he doesn’t understand English when someone asks him some fuckass question that he doesn’t want to answer. Especially post-TLG.
Ilya gets pulled for a live post-game media scrum, and instead of being asked about the two goals he scored or how cohesively their team played that day, he gets asked the umpteenth question by some smarmy sports reporter about his and Shane’s relationship, with thinly-veiled jabs about how having two married queer players on their team must be bad for their locker room.
And Ilya loves being able to openly talk about Shane and their relationship, but he’s so sick of this offensive line of questioning. So instead he just makes his innocent-confused-puppydog face and replies in rapid-fire Russian. The reporter is thrown off and repeats his question, but Ilya just replies in Russian again, going on and on until the reporter gets flustered and gives up.
Later when the internet translates what he said, it’s something along the lines of, “I don’t understand such idiotic English questions, but if the sports reporter wants to ask questions about the sport he’s paid to report, I can answer those,” and then it’s just him praising his teammates on how well they’ve been playing.
Harris is also sick of the invasive questions, so he doesn’t throttle Ilya over it. Shane thinks it’s absolutely hilarious. He’s later asked about his husband’s “behavior” by some reporter in the states. He also plays dumb and does the same thing as Ilya, but in French.
at some point down the road after hollanov has been married for a while they'll be doing their thing where they joke about having a threesome and it turns to MLH players and they're both like, 'yeah there's only one MLH player i'd probably have a threesome with' and they're both giggling and blushing like 'i'll tell you mine if you tell me yours' and ilya expects shane to say scott hunter and shane expects ilya to say cliff marleau and they agree to say it together so they count to three and then in unison, they both say 'carter vaughn.'
She’s on top of you, her hips moving in a languid rhythm against yours.
Your head is spinning with the way her clit catches against yours with every pass of her core on yours, your juices are mixing together, folds coming into place at every thrust. She looks ethereal above you. Her long brown hair is cascading down her shoulders, falling prettily onto her breasts, which bounce to the rhythm of her fucking you.
“You look so pretty for me, baby,” she moans out, her syrupy voice seeping into your brain, melting it from the inside out.
Whining out at her praise, you lock your legs around her waist, desperate to keep her there.
“You feel so fucking, Nat, you’re fucking me so good, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you cry out, rendered absolutely helpless by the pleasure she is providing you.
“‘M not pretty girl, I’m not stopping,” she coos, brushing some hair off your sweaty forehead, “‘m not, ‘m gonna make you feel so so good…”
The room is filled with both of your heavy breathing, along with the obscene sound of Natasha’s pussy rubbing against yours.
“You hear that ? How fucking wet you are for me ?” She asks through a moan, a smug grin pulling at her lips, “you’re making a mess all over the bed, sweet thing.”
You were about to retort something about how she was contributing to the mess but your quick wit dies on your tongue when her clit rolls particularly hard against yours.
“Oh fuck, Nat,” you exhale in an blissed breath.
“Yeah that’s it,” her hips find a new fervor, quickening her rhythm, “say my name, baby, let your neighbors know who’s fucking you this good.”
She leans in, catching one of your nipples in her mouth and a guttural and downright pornographic moan leaves you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel your walls flutter around nothing, the pressure on your clit feels nothing short of heavenly and you can feel your orgasm starting to creep up on you. Your hand trade in her hair, gripping a handful of it and pulling so she lets go of your abused nipple, forcing her to look at you.
“Make me cum, Nat, please,” you cup her face, capturing her lips into a pleading kiss, quite literally begging into her mouth, “please make me cum, I need it so bad.”
The smile that overtakes her face is sinfully predatory, she pulls you in for another kiss, her tongue languidly licking over your bottom lip before dancing with yours and exploring the confines of your mouth.
“I will, sweetheart, I will, I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry…” she soothes your frantic pleading.
She straightens back up, towering over where you are comfortably laying on your pillows while she continues to fuck your fluttering pussy. Natasha looks akin to a goddess like that, looking down at you with her lust blown eyes, her core smearing the mix of both your slick all over you. A wanton moan escapes your throat when Natasha’s hands grip the back of your knees, pushing your legs forward and widening them a bit more, leaving your weeping cunt completely exposed to her loving assault.
“Nat, oh my god, that feels so good !” You cry out when her hips suddenly switch their thrusting motion for a circular one.
Her clit dances with yours, circulating it passionately.
“Look at how beautiful your little clit is, all swollen and twitching just for me… are you close, baby ? Gonna cum for me and scream my name ?”
You nod frantically, unable to voice out with coherent words the sheer amount of pleasure flowing through your veins at the moment. And sometimes you wondered how the hell she could string together sentences when she was fucking you like that.
Natasha presses down harder on you, accelerating her circular motion, “oh yeah,” she moans out and her sounds are only fueling the rubber band that’s on the verge of snapping in your lower stomach, “that feels really good, you feel amazing, pretty girl, your pussy is perfect, you’re perfect— ah fuck…”
You can tell by the way she is rambling that she is close as well, and you marvel at how her hips are capable of keeping that delicious cadence. You beckon her down so your hands are able to cup her beautiful breasts, the weight of them is heavenly in your hands and the shiver that shakes her spine when your thumbs pass over her nipples has you clenching down hard.
“Cum with me, please, baby ?” You plead, desperate to fall over the edge with her.
This time, Natasha is only capable of nodding, her eyes half lidded by the pleasure.
Your breathing is already frenetic when Natasha’s pace quickens, eager to bring you both to orgasms, and it only takes another pass of her clit against yours for the rubber band to finally snap.
The moan that rips from your throat echoes loudly in the room as your head is thrown back against your pillows, the sensation is overwhelming, locking your every muscle into place as you are rendered completely helpless to the waves of white hot pleasure overtaking your body. And through the mind fog your orgasm is inflicting upon you, you hear Natasha letting out a whimper as her hips stutter and you even feel the strong pulse of her clit against your sensitive one as she rides out her high, feeling some of her hot slick dripping down on you and contributing to the wet puddle beneath your ass.
When you finally come back down, both of you are breathless, flushed and absolutely spent.
“Wanna go again ?” Natasha grins down at you, affectionately nudging her nose with yours, “you can be on top this time.”
Or so you thought.
Author’s note : I’m trying out the Drabble style, to post some quick little things to avoid the useless rambling I do in longer fics, I hope you guys will like it !! First time writing for Natasha, I’m very excited !! And if that was a little too “freaky”, please let me know, I'm still experimenting with writing smut so yeah don't hesitate to let me know if that was not it
Also my deepest apologies if the smut is bad or inaccurate, I’ve never had sex with a woman so…👀
“What do you get out of this ? I mean… does that even feel good for you ?” You question Natasha as she secures the harness on her hips.
Looking down at you, her lips quirk up in a smile, one hand coming to rub your thigh affectionately.
“I get to see you cry on my cock, and that alone feels fucking great for me, sweetheart.”
The way she was referring to the plastic dildo in between her legs as hers had your stomach, and something way lower, flutter desperately.
“Also, the front of the harness is rubbing on my clit, but that’s just an added bonus,” she winks at you.
She nudges the tip of her strap at your entrance. Natasha had spent one long hour thoroughly preparing you to take her and the need was burning hotter than ever. Your hips buck lightly, trying to take more of her.
“Be patient, baby,” she soothes, a hand rubbing your hip tenderly, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you said, growing even more restless with the way Natasha was rubbing the tip of her strap on your puffy clit, “please just put it in.”
She flashes a cocky smirk at you before slowly pushing inside of you. You frown a bit at the stretch but the strain quickly turns into pleasure when Natasha buries herself to the hilt, her hips flush against yours. She stays still for a minute, allowing you to get accustomed to the size.
“How does it feel ?” She asks, her voice all breathy from the sight of you full of her.
Your walls flutter around the strap, “good, really good…” you exhale shakily, “it’s a good length, I’m glad we chose that one.”
Natasha’s hips begin to slowly grind against yours, not even thrusting yet, just a languid roll that has you moaning out in pure delight, your hips bucking up to meet hers.
“Nat, more,” you pout, the desire, the need, for her to fuck into you is getting stronger and more desperate every second she refuses to give into you.
She leans in, licking over your bottom lip, “yeah ? You need me to pound into you, baby ? Need me to fuck you hard and deep ?”
All you can do is nod desperately as she finally gives you what you want. Natasha is almost completely lying on top of you as her hips hit yours with a force you didn’t know she was capable of, her breasts move in tandem with yours, your nipples rubbing against each other with every thrust.
“Oh fuck, you feel so good, fucking me so good !” You cry out as the tip of her dildo hit that spot deep inside of you that makes you see stars.
She is almost putting you in a mating press with the way she is positioned above you, she feels so fucking deep inside of you, and you feel so so full of her, the sensation is setting your insides on fire.
Her head is in the crook of your neck, plastering open mouthed and wet kisses on the thin skin.
“You like that, baby ? Like how deep I am inside of you ?” One of her hand leaves your hips to snake its way on your lower stomach and she presses slightly, making you moan out, “I’m right here, you feel me sweet thing ?”
“Yes, yes yes yes,” you chant, half delirious on pleasure.
She leaves the confines of your neck, straightening back up, taking one of your hands with her. Her eyes are boring into yours as she takes your middle and ring fingers in her mouth, her tongue circling them and coating them in her spit.
“Touch yourself for me, pretty girl. Make that clit feel good while I fuck you.”
Your pussy clenches hard at her words and the obscene show she is putting on for you as your body obeys her on its own. Your slick fingers leave her mouth and trace down her body, squeezing one of her nipples on the way down before arriving at your messy cunt. Your neglected clit twitches hard when your hand finally makes contact, rubbing quick circles on it, your moans only become louder and louder.
“Fuck, Nat, ‘m so close, I’m gonna cum so fucking hard…”
Your pussy flutters desperately around Natasha as she smirks above you, keeping the delicious pace that’s slowly bringing you to your high.
“Do you feel good ?” You asked in between whimpers, “does that feel good for you ? Please Nat…”
“Awww, my sweet angel,” she coos squeezing your breasts affectionately, “yes it does, it feels so good watching you take my cock like a good girl.”
Her words spur you on, the fingers on your clit picking up the pace.
“That’s it, baby, cum for me, rub that pretty clit.” Her words are punctuated with those heavenly hard thrusts that fill you to the brim every time.
And before you know it, your pussy clenches down hard on the strap, practically locking Natasha in place as you ride out your high. Your back arches, tits pushing out into her hands as violent tremors shake your body. An obscene amount of slick is being pushed out of you, forming a white ring at the base of Natasha’s strap.
When you come back down, Natasha is still in you, rubbing your thighs appreciatively.
“You did so good, sweetheart, took me so well, I’m proud of you.”
Your stomach flips at the praise.
“Was it… good for you ? Did you cum, I mean ?” You question, out of breath and feeling a bit sheepish under her prying gaze.
A grin pulls at her pretty pink lips, “I did, it felt so good to fuck you like that, baby.”
Her words have you clench helplessly around the strap.
“Well… you must be pretty messy under that then, no ?” You point to the harness sitting on her hips.
Her eyes flick to you with a predatory glint.
“What do you say about me cleaning you up ?” You ask, your hands coming up to move the strap out of you and slowly take the harness off her, revealing her slick folds and puffy clit from rubbing against the material.
She smirks as she watches you trail kisses down her body, all the way to the place she needs you the most.
“I’d say you you better get to work, baby.”
Author's note : Currently struggling to finish my Jake fic so please accept this Natasha Drabble as an apology.
I have so many more Drabble ideas for her and they are all smut😭 need her so bad😔
As always, sorry if the smut is bad, I never had sex with a woman.
“Baby,” Natasha chuckles fondly, “you’re supposed to touch yourself as well.” She reminds you.
You were so entranced by the way her fingers were moving on her glistening pussy that your own hand had stopped all its movements.
“Fuck, sorry…” you mumble out, fingers resuming their slow circles on your aching clit.
The sight of Natasha sitting opposite of you, hand between her legs, rubbing her own swollen clit while her other hand was pinching one of her nipples was just too much to bear.
“I don’t understand,” you whine, wanting to reach out to her so fucking bad, “why can’t I just touch you ?”
“Because it’s hot, restraint is hot, don’t you think ?” She beckons, a sweet smile on her lips as she lets out the prettiest little gasp you’ve ever heard.
The sound alone has you clenching helplessly around nothing.
“Touching you would be way hotter,” you try to argue in a stubborn huff, a desperate attempt to get her to change her mind and allow you to touch her.
Natasha lets out a fond chuckle, shaking her head slightly at your petulant behavior, “spread your legs a bit more, baby, I want to see that wet pussy on full display for me, can you do that ?”
You curse low under your breath, doing as you were told. Opening your legs a bit more, Natasha’s eyes are trained on your core, and the minute your cunt fully comes into view, you swear you can see her pupils dilate, even from the slight distance between you.
“Good girl,” she praises, “you look so pretty. Touch your nipples, baby, rub them like I do usually.” She instructs, her own fingers never stopping their movement over her glistening pussy.
Letting out a little pathetic moan at her demand, your free hand comes up to your mouth, tongue wetting your fingers so they slide with ease over one of your nipples. The little bud is already erect and the contact with it sends sharp sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. Instinctively, the fingers on your clit quicken their pace, eager to feel the ecstasy of your release wash over you.
“Slow down, pretty girl,” Natasha coos softly in a breath, the smile evident in her voice, visibly amused by your eagerness and enthusiasm, “I want you to enjoy it. Here, copy me,” her hips buck forward a bit, beckoning you to look down at her hand between her legs, “see ?”
Your eyes that were transfixed on her chest heaving up and down and the way her fingers were pinching at her nipples, comes back down to her core. You suck in a sharp breath at the sight.
Natasha’s fingers are oh so slowly circling her clit, the swollen little bundle of nerves is peeking out from between her folds, pulsing with need. Her pussy is glistening, strings of slick are getting pushed out of her fluttering hole and you just have to restrain yourself to not pounce on her. She lets out a moan that makes your hips buck into your hands.
“Fuck, Nat, It’s not fair,” you whine out desperately, but your fingers slow down nonetheless, matching the agonizing pace at which Natasha is rubbing her clit, “I wanna cum so bad.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know you do. But look at you being a good girl for me, listening so well.”
Her praise washes over you, making your clit twitch under your fingers and your hole pathetically clench around nothing. Natasha just smirks before breaking out into a moan, whole face contorting to display the sheer pleasure she is experiencing by her own hand, which should be yours, you catch yourself thinking in a horny and frustrated daze.
“What do you want to do to me right now, baby ?” She asks, voice going slightly pitchy from the whine that breaks out of her.
“I wanna fuck you, baby,” you answer, breathless, copying her movements when her fingers slightly quicken their pace over her clit, “I— oh fuck, I want to rub your clit with mine and—”, the sight of Natasha is almost too much to bear, her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, apparently intent on keeping quiet while she intensely listens to you pouring out your undying desire for her. Her cheeks and chest are visibly flushed, nipples perky and redden by the torture of her own fingers, other hand in between her thighs, toying with her dripping cunt and you can hear the wet sound each pass of her fingers make on her clit. A high pitched moan escapes you, “I wanna feel how wet and warm you are, want to feel you cum under me and make a mess…”
Natasha moans out as her fingers slip down from her clit, all the way to her fluttering entrance, “you always fuck me so good when you’re on top, sweetheart,” you watch, utterly mesmerized, as her middle finger slip effortlessly into her dripping hole, thrusting in only slightly before slipping back out, fingers coming down to open up her folds so her clenching hole is on full display for you.
A wave of desire crashes so hard into you it feels dizzying for a second, and all of the restraint and good behavior you had promised Natasha suddenly flies out the window as you abruptly sit up from your spot to pounce on her, your lips crashing together with a force that only mirrored your passion for her. She lets out a pleased whimper in your mouth that only spurs you on.
Your hands slip under her knees, gently pushing her down as your hips settle above hers before finally lowering yourself down and making contact with the object of your desire. The moan that leaves you when your clit makes contact with hers is downright obscene and pornographic. You waste no time to start grinding and rutting against her, Natasha’s own whines and whimpers sounding like a heavenly melody in your ears. Between pleasured sounds, she looks up at you, a grin pulling at her pretty pink lips.
“You lasted longer than I thought.”
Author’s note : I’m on a Natasha train lately I don’t know what’s happening.
Btw I am working hard on the Bradley fic, don’t know when it’ll be done though, I just started a full time summer job until July so I’m gonna be a bit busy but trust that I am doing my best !💞 in the mean time, please accept this sweet smut of our amazing Natasha
Shane and Ilya get locked outside one night and while Ilya is freaking out about whom they could contact who would have a spare key to their house and would be awake at this hour and poor Anya who's locked inside, all by herself, and Hollander, she will starve without us! Shane just reaches into Ilya's pocket and unwraps a stick of gum, pressing the gum into Ilya's mouth before rolling up the wrapper and using it to pick their lock.
It is the most impressive thing Ilya has ever seen and he brings it up constantly to everyone, at the slightest provocation, "did you know my husband is like... Hollander, what's his name? McArthur?" "MacGyver" "Yes! Like MacGyver, he picked a lock using a gum wrapper!" And of course he's asked Shane how he learned to do that but he just said he learned it as a kid because he thought it might come in handy one day.
It isn't until much later that Ilya actually manages to get the whole story out of him and finds out that when Shane was barely 13 he was moved up to U15 AAA despite being younger. He was placed on the first power play almost immediately and it was clear the coach favoured him, even before he was moved up to first line centre. All the parents and coaches talked about him constantly and scouts were already taking note of him. Some of the older 14-15 year olds really hated him for it and would "pick on him a bit," as Shane puts it. This apparently included locking him in the equipment room. When Shane tells him that he'd been stuck in there for almost two hours before someone found him, he says what he remembers being most upset about is the fact that he missed almost the entire practice.
After that, Ilya can't really find it in himself to keep joking about Shane's lock picking skills. All he can think about is how he wants to gather that poor 13 year old Shane up and tell him it will all be alright. How badly he wishes they could have met sooner so that he could have been there to give those assholes the beating they deserved.
Bradley turned from where he was staring at Jake from the corner of his eye to look at Coyote who was squinting at Jake, and then looking at Bradley, back and forth before he shook his head.
“Oh, fuck no, Jacob.”
Bradley glanced at Jake who finally turned, raising an eyebrow at Coyote. “What?” Jake asked, face innocent.
“Don’t you what me,” Coyote said, pointing a finger at Jake, looking pissed off. “I thought we agreed we weren’t going to fuck Rooster anymore.”
The silence that followed was loud before everyone started speaking at the same time, the noise getting louder and louder as Bradley tried to figure out how Coyote had figured out he and Jake were doing something again. They had been quiet, they hadn’t been looking at each other in public, they hadn’t left at the same time, they hadn’t been doing anything that would give away that, for the fifth time in knowing each other, they had fallen back to bed together and this time, this time, Bradley felt like it might actually stick.
“Since when is fucking Rooster a we thing?” Jake demanded, voice cutting through the noise.
“Since, we,” Coyote waved a hand around the room to include all twelve of them, “have to deal with the fall out each time you fuck. Flight school, Oceana, Top Gun even though you were in different classes, that one mission in Germany and fucking Lemoore.”
“I thought Lemoore was before Germany?” Nat asked.
“Was it?” Coyote asked.
“Definitely before,” Halo piped up.
“Fuck all of you, especially you,” Jake said, glaring at Coyote. “For the record, we’re not fucking.”
That at least was correct. For the first time they weren’t fucking, they were dating, a fact they had agreed to keep on the downlow until they made sure it would stick.
“Bull to the shit,” Coyote replied.
“You’re an asshole,” Jake shot back.
The door opened and Mav appeared, thankfully breaking up the beginnings of a fight. Jake and Javy might be best friends, but they were also both stubborn assholes who could argue like top level prosecutors. Bradley remembered the aftermath of the 2016 argument that had started over something. Bradley had never gotten a straight answer, but he knew he never wanted to be around that again. He’d rather face the SAM’s.
“Yo, Mav. Did you know Rooster and Hangman are fucking?” Coyote called, leaning back in his chair.
Maybe a fight wasn’t the worst idea suddenly.
“Wow,” Bradley said, finally speaking up and glaring at Coyote who looked unrepentant. “Way to out me without my permission. Real fuckin’ solid ally right there. I never told Mav I was gay.”
That at least had Coyote suddenly looking nervous and guilty as he glanced between Bradley and Mav who had stopped part of the way into the door, frowning around the room before he shook his head and kept walking in.
“Oh, no worries. I knew,” Mav said, making it to the front and dropping his pile of folders on the table.
“The fuck you mean you knew? I never told you?” Bradley demanded, glaring at Mav.
Mav snorted, looking up at him. “Yeah, kid. I knew. What? You suddenly missed my cooking anytime Ice was visiting?”
Bradley sniffed, leaning back in the chair. “No one reheats a Hungry Man like you do, Mav. No one. Be proud of that.”
“Kazansky, really?” Payback said with extreme judgment.
“It’s like Hangman version one,” Harvard said.
“The lesser version,” Jake snapped immediately.
“Are you seriously comparing yourself to Admiral Kazansky?” Nat demanded, glaring at Jake.
“He hungry for a Hungry man? Or a Hangry man?” Fritz said, elbowing Omaha with a grin.
“Way to have a type, Rooster,” Fanboy called, causing more than one of them to chuckle and Bradley just rolled his eyes.
“We’re missing the point,” Coyote said, waving a hand around the room before pointing at Bradley and then at Jake. “Fuck…ing.”
“No, we’re not,” Jake said, getting the shit eating grin he always got on his face when he was about to drop a bomb, and Bradley loved that look. Loved Jake’s ego and loved how fucking smart he was. Jake turned, shooting a grin at Bradley that had him smiling back, incapable of not when Jake was looking at him like that. Bradley could hear the groans from around the room, but Bradley ignored them in favor of meeting Jake’s eyes and hoping he’d never have to go a day when he couldn’t see that look on Jake’s face directed at him.
“Nah, Yotes. We’re not fucking. We’re dating.”
The room was silent, and then Coyote groaned, dropping his head onto the desk as Nat started to rub her temples, the rest of the room breaking out into conversation, but all Bradley could do was smile back at Jake because they were dating, and Bradley had never been happier.
Patrick Swayze, specifically in Dirty Dancing because his mom would watch that movie whenever it came on and nine year old Shane would join her, watching with an innocent but fixed fascination he usually only ever showed for hockey related things.
Li Shang in Mulan.
An 8th grade classmate who occasionally told the other boys to knock it off when they made jokes at Shane's expense. He had that 90s popular boy curtain bangs haircut and Shane would sometimes fantasize about brushing the hair away from his face.
The boy who was the Captain of his U15 team the year he joined. Confused it for hero worship. He had a habit of ruffling Shane's hair and of teasing him in a way that sometimes crossed the line from affectionate to mean. Both gave Shane butterflies.
Scott Hunter, also confused for hero worship.
A 12th grade classmate who was on the basketball team and who always stood just a little bit too close whenever he talked to Shane, forcing Shane to crane his neck to look up at him.
Ilya Rozanov, unfortunately.
Carter Vaughn. He's cute, he's friendly, and he throws his arm around Shane's shoulders whenever they meet.
Ilya Rozanov, still.
A photographer who takes Shane's pictures for one of his many brand deals and is a little more hands-on than most, without touching Shane in any way that could be construed as inappropriate. Tells Shane "good job, kid, you're a natural" once the shoot is over, his voice warm and deep.
His boyfriend, Ilya Rozanov.
J.J. Boiziau, after J.J. takes him out to a gay club post Shane coming out and forces him onto the dancefloor with him. This crush is swiftly snuffed out the next week when J.J. tosses his socks at him in the locker room and the smell nearly knocks Shane out cold.
One day Ilya learns that a Pike is a kind of fish and it's all over for Hayden after that. "Yes Trout? What did you say?" "Bass is on the phone and would like to know if we can babysit his children." "Hello children, this will be your coach for hockey camp, Mr Tilapia."
