| 20 × Sephie |
14 posts
Persephvnes-elysivm - Natsukashii - Tumblr Blog
Just imagining...
bimbo!Mikasa daydreaming over her S/O's hands.
Flat out drooling at any point she sees their fingers flex oh so expertly just by doing ordinary mundane tasks. Her mind immediately fills with hazy images from the night before with those exact fingers stretching her out and coaxing out release after release.
Or the way that they would wrap around her like she was a dainty little thing... the delicious tightening hold on her neck... the rough tugs of her short raven hair... the tantalizing way her partner gripped her jaw and cooed words of praise for being so good...
🥴🥴🥴
goddamn 20s do hit a little hard... oh well another year closer to being a milf ig? 🤷♀️
I- you and me both, this actually wormed it's way into my head during one of my uni lectures and I had to keep myself from grinning like an idiot until I got the free time to write this 😶🌫️ either way, always happy to infect others with my sudden tho(ugh)ts 🥴
11:14pm...
imagine them dancing to ariana grande's fantasize, full energy, disgustingly serving cunt flawlessly and making sure you're eyes were on them. not caring about how their movements sent a pang of heat and desire shooting down between your legs and the urge to fold them like a lawn chair to rail them until their brain melts....
they just wanted to show you how well they can learn a simple dance and they ate that shit up... 🤷♀️
(if y'all don't know what I'm talking abt just look up the song's TikTok dance-)
MIKASA, PIECK, Annie, Sasha, Hange, Momo, Mina, Mirko(?) + ur faves
11:14pm...
imagine them dancing to ariana grande's fantasize, full energy, disgustingly serving cunt flawlessly and making sure your eyes were on them. not caring about how their movements sent a pang of heat and desire shooting down between your legs and the urge to fold them like a lawn chair to rail them until their brain melts....
they just wanted to show you how well they can learn a simple dance and they ate that shit up... 🤷♀️
(if y'all don't know what I'm talking abt just look up the song's TikTok dance-)
MIKASA, PIECK, Annie, Sasha, Hange, Momo, Mina, Mirko(?) + ur faves
No.1 Nepo baby
There's no distance. I've never been this close to someone before in my life... And you came in and shattered my reality. Thank you.
sephie | she/her | 20 | circus clown for ushiwaka & toji, tragic mikasa simp | Requests/Thirsts: closed, (blog is still under construction) | Status: Semi-active (finishing last bit of studies for the year first)
Rules/Byf | M.List/Master list | others accs + alt. acc | WIPs/Writer's resources & etc. | Fandoms | Tag lists
The Garden's Latest Blooms:
under construction...
no thoughts, but my head is plagued with
just the idea of Mikasa being a sensitive thighs girly who's skin would tingle and can't help but shiver at the slightest bit of contact around that area with the cutest blush on her face 😩
pair that with the idea of her having sensitive boobs too? it's over...
thanks @nightfall-kachiniko for that 3am thought- 💀
ayeee thanks for the follow and I absolutely LOVE your theme 😱 you're officially my first mutual lmao 😊🌸🌼
of course!! 💕 and thank youuu
Me acting surprised as if I didn't already know this was going to be a banger as always 🙄🙄
Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Reader*
18+ only, read at your own risk
Requested by anon: Can I request sub beefy reader with a dick and dom fem nat reader calls her mommy, nat had been teasing reader all day with revealing clothes soft touches and the casual bulge grab while they’re out in public readers so needy n begs nat to just touch them but nat wants to wait til they’re home. They finally get gome n nat haves her way with readers cock playing with the tip teasing them more til nat gets needy too and rides reader into oblivion
AN: Reader has a penis. No pronouns used.
(The bottoms better blow this up and not let me down.)
Keep reading
omg omg omg toshi content-
Hello!!! I need to know more about Ushijima being a closet perv and size queen reader who is MORE than willing to corrupt him lol
time skip! ushijima wakatoshi + fem! reader | mdni | 845 words | established relationship, oral (m! receiving), hi anon i'm sorry for taking 3 months but <3
wakatoshi is always respectful. he keeps his hand a bit too high on your waist and doesn’t stare down the tauntingly low cut of the dress you wore just so that he would. at least not when you’re looking. he fucks you respectfully too, gently and slowly with the candle on the nightstand flickering. tells you you’re beautiful and kisses you right after. and he grips at the sheets to temper himself until his knuckles turn white and his fingers ache.
he doesn’t even let you suck him off properly. always with the excuse that he wants you to feel good. and he thinks you don’t notice, how he squeezes his eyes shut and lets his hands hover just over your head. like just the sight of you would be too much to bear, like he might just bury himself in your throat in a moment of unguarded want.
so you play a little game with him, not that he’s aware. but he shouldn’t sit like that with his legs spread far too wide and his little shorts riding up the muscle of his thighs if he doesn’t want to play. it starts innocently, with you standing in front of him, shoulders slumped, a little act of looking dejected.
“toshi,” followed by a dramatic sigh, “i’m bored.”
he acknowledges you with a squeeze of your arm. “there’s only a few minutes left, darling.”
maybe you should feel bad about using his love for you against him, but you still drop to your knees in between his legs and press your cheek into his thigh. “but i’m bored now.”
there’s a moment, he looks down at you, you blink up at him lazily with a pretty pout puffing your cheeks, and you win.
“please,” your hand wanders up his thigh, nails scratching just under the hem of his shorts, “it’s the last set.”
“fine, i’ll be quiet.”
one kiss just above his knee. then a little further up. and then you bare your bottom teeth and scrape at his flesh before kissing the little reddened spot. he flinches just a bit. a little further up. you suck on his skin then leave a wet, slobbery kiss over the broken capillaries. up and up and up. and you bite and mark him and take in the way his breathing grows heavier and heavier, interrupted by frequent sharp intakes of breath to cover up the sting of your mouth.
and when you look up at him his lips are parted and his eyes are squeezed shut. and his cheeks are painted in the cutest shade of red.
“i thought you wanted to watch the game.” you tease. “open your eyes.”
he mumbles something under his breath you don’t quite catch.
“come on wakatoshi, open your eyes.”
you’ve never seen him in such a state, his jaw stiff with tension, pupils blown, fists clenched by his side. he flinches when you nuzzle your nose into his already achy bulge.
“can i put it in my mouth, please?”
he nods.
he helps you pull his shorts down his legs and leans back into the cushions, legs spread even wider, his cock twitching and throbbing against his tummy. and you could eat him alive, devour every last crumb but your silly game isn’t finished.
“toshi, you’re so big.” you coo. “look i can’t even wrap my fingers around it.”
you watch him look down, watch as you wrap your little hand around the base of him, the gap between your thumb and middle finger a maddening sight.
but you continue. kiss the pretty mauve tip, smear the precum over your lips and you smile at him so adoringly. and you keep eye contact as you wrap your mouth around the head of his cock and suckle and swirl your tongue around the tiny opening.
you can hear him hiss out a quiet “fuck.” his hands reach for your face, an instinct begging him to stop you, pull you away. but, god, you look so pretty with your lips all stretched around him and your eyes rolled back. he never even imagined you could make him feel like this.
“did that feel good baby?”
“y-yeah.” the rasp of his voice makes you tingle.
“i think i can do better.”
and you slowly take more and more and more until his pubic hair tickles the button of your nose and tears well in your eyes. and you count. first to five and then ten and fifteen. push yourself a little further. your nails digging a little deeper into his thighs with every passing second.
wakatoshi feels like he could cum from a single squeeze of your throat. or from just the sight of you on your knees before him, or the warmth of your mouth. but then you pull away with a gasp and he can sees you - the little string of drool between the tip of his cock and your lips, the warm traces of tears on your cheeks, the spit dribbling down your chin.
and all he can say is “again.”
thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
great now I can't get stripper!Nat x beefy!reader AU out of my head... look at what you've done now 😣🥲😒
Peeping Jeff
Natasha Romanoff x Reader*
18+ only, read at your own risk
Summary: You and Natasha have some fun when an uninvited guest stops by.
Word count: 2095
AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.
No land sharks were harmed in the writing of this fic.
“Eyes on me,” Natasha says.
“Yes, ma’am,” you say, as if you’ll dare disobey her. Not when she’s dressed in the thinnest pair of black lingerie she owns and is currently rotating slowly around the stripper pole she had installed in the bedroom almost a month ago. It was probably the best investment the two of you ever made, and even Tony had to comment on its usefulness when he brought the contractors in.
You settle back in the bed, ready for your private show. You’re only wearing your boxers now and the bulge between your legs continues to tent as Natasha scales up the pole almost to the ceiling. She wraps her legs around it, wedging it in the crook of her knee to hold her weight while she lets go with her arms, leaning back until her hair cascades in a fiery red wave.
“Don’t touch yourself,” Natasha warns when she sees your hand moving towards your own crotch. You can’t always help yourself; seeing your girlfriend like this demands an attention that she is too far away to provide. You sigh in frustration, but force your hands back to your sides.
Natasha slides down the pole a few feet, tilting back until her head is lower than the rest of her body. Your eyes focus on her perfect breasts ready to spill out of their delicate cage and how perfectly they press together when she moves.
She suddenly releases her hold on the pole with her legs and she drops to the floor.
“Nat!” you cry, almost jumping off the bed until you see that she’s stopped herself just in time, now hovering inches off the floor.
“I’m fine,” she snips, almost like she’s upset you thought she had so little strength and would hurt herself.
“Okay, okay.”
As Natasha continues her performance, neither of you notice that it’s now become a public showing when two dark beady eyes look through the crack of the bedroom door that you’ve accidentally left slightly ajar. The eyes widen when they see Natasha and the silver, shiny pole. But after a few moments, they are distracted by the rumbling in their belly and continue padding down the hall to the kitchen.
By the time Natasha is off the pole and sauntering over to you, you’ve given up all restraint and are jerking yourself off in your boxers, stopping only when she climbs on top of you and grinds down on your crotch.
“Did you like my show?” Natasha asks, but it’s a pointless question.
“I loved it, baby,” you pant, tilting your head up desperately for a kiss. You don’t even notice she’s pulled your boxers off and her own panties until you suddenly feel her wetness brush against your cock. “Oh fuck, Nat.”
She sinks down without warning, enveloping you in perfect, silky heat. You buck up instinctively, trying to fit your entire length into her, the ache of arousal in the pit of your stomach slightly soothed as she surrounds you.
Natasha locks her hands around your neck to steady yourself as you thrust into her. You press your face into her chest, inhaling the scent of her skin and wrapping your arms around her back to keep her close to you.
“Right there, baby,” she moans as you jack your hips up until they slap against hers. “Keep going, keep going.”
“You’re always so tight around me,” you grunt, twitching at the sound of your slick cock sliding in and out of her. “You’re so perfect, Nat. Every part of you.”
She hums in agreement, bouncing on your cock and causing the whole bed frame to shake.
You hadn’t realized how turned on Natasha was over her own performance until her walls clamp around you, almost preventing you from pulling out, and her wetness dripping down your cock. You thrust up in one final, rough move, emptying yourself into her, your hips raised off the bed until your thighs are trembling from the effort before you collapse back down and Natasha rests on top of you.
The two of you stay like that for a long time, until your alarm goes off, alerting you that you have to get ready for the next event.
***********************************************************************
“I swear, we go to one of these a week,” Natasha says, snagging a martini from one of the passing waiters. She clinks it against your cocktail glass and the both of you take a sip in solidarity.
“You know Tony. Any excuse he has to party, he’ll put one on,” you respond, turning with her to face the crowd of people swaying on the dance floor. You swear you’ve never seen the same person twice at these parties and sometimes wonder if Tony just puts up a flier on the Internet advertising there’s a party at the Avengers Tower. It would explain the amount of times you’ve been asked to take pictures or sign autographs.
“You tired?” you ask Natasha as she sighs and leans against your arm.
“Not any more than usual.” You know she’s not a fan of these gatherings any more than you are.
“We can go soon,” you offer.
“It’s okay,” she says.
The two of you sit at the bar and try to avoid any other interactions. You bob your head absently to the beat of the music as Natasha drinks another martini. Bruce comes over, trying to strike up a conversation with Natasha as you glare at him with your arm looped firmly around her waist.
“Tony said he had a surprise for tonight,” Bruce says.
“Is it going to happen anytime soon? It’s almost our bed time,” Natasha yawns.
As if on cue, the music suddenly stops and the lights flash on to their full power. The crowd on the dance floor murmurs their annoyance as Tony appears on the DJ’s stage.
“Thank you to everyone who came out tonight!” he says. “I know I host a lot of these, and I’m always trying new things to keep them interesting. Behold, my latest addition to the Stark party experience!”
Tony holds his hands up, and the spotlights direct to a panel on the ceiling that slides back. Something silver and shiny pokes down, slowly revealing itself to be a singular, metal pole. It takes a second for it to click what it is.
“Oh God,” Natasha says, shaking her head.
“Is that a stripper pole?” Bruce asks.
“Yep,” you answer. “I wonder if he got the idea from the one we had installed in our room–”
Bruce turns on you incredulously. “Wait, you have a–”
“Who wants to give it a try?” Tony asks as the lights dim, all focus on the shiny silver pole now. No one in the crowd moves at first.
“I will give it a go!” a deep voice booms and Thor comes forward as people begin cheering and clapping for him.
“Oh, this will be good,” Natasha comments. You move closer to get a better view of your co-worker as he steps up to the pole, sizing it up for a few seconds before grabbing onto it firmly. Women start cheering as Thor hesitantly swings himself around the pole, as if he doesn’t trust such a flimsy object to support him, but with the encouragement of the crowd, he gains some confidence and starts to dance as if the pole is his partner.
“Only Tony could come up with something like this,” you say, impressed at how flexible the god of thunder is.
“This is definitely going online,” Bruce notes, counting the number of cellphones people have out to capture the moment.
“You want to give it a try, Nat?” you tease.
“Nope. Because that’s a show for you only,” she says, pressing against you to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.
“All right, all right, give it up for the god of thunder!” Tony says, gesturing for Thor to leave center stage as the crowd of women swarm him from your view. “Who’s up next?” His eyes sweep across the room, searching for another victim. You accidentally make eye contact with him and your heart drops as he points to you. “Come on over, Y/N–”
“Mrrrr.”
You pause mid-step as everyone hears the same noise echo in the room. It’s one you’re more than familiar with, but you aren’t quite sure it’s the right one you’ve heard until you see Jeff the land shark, in his one-foot tall glory, waddling towards center stage.
Murmurs carry around as the little shark approaches the silver pole and gives it a few sniffs.
“Is that Jeff?”
“What is he doing here?”
“Is he even old enough to be here?”
“Mrrrr!” he huffs indignantly at that last comment. When you pause to think about it, you aren’t really sure what Jeff’s age is. While he is a great deal smaller than his terrifying, fully-grown counterparts, rumor had it that Jeff aged just the same but simply did not outgrow his smaller form. So for all you knew, he was perfectly of age to be at a Tony Stark party.
“Give it up for Jeff the land shark!” Tony exclaims, increasing the volume of the music.
“Go, Jeff!” you shout and Natasha smacks your shoulder. “Ow, what was that for?”
“Do not encourage him! He’s just a baby and probably shouldn’t even be here–”
“We don’t know that for sure,” you defend.
“Watch him be better than Thor,” Bruce says.
Jeff stands on his hind legs to inspect the pole; you wonder if he has the grip strength to lift himself up. Natasha had lectured you on the difficulties of her new hobby, even offering you the opportunity to try it yourself, and while you were plenty strong, you had no flexibility or grace, thus resulting in a less-than-stellar show for her.
However, Jeff is already showing you up as he clutches onto the pole tightly with his fingers, pushing off the ground with his back feet and using his momentum to swing around the pole with his round body.
People scream and cheer at his first attempt. He steadies himself, carefully inching up the pole until he is at a height where everyone in the room could see him. He tilts his head back as he spins around the pole again, almost like he’s in slow-motion. You had no idea a land shark could be this graceful or fluid.
Everyone is entranced by his performance, as Jeff flaps his tail to propel himself faster around the pole. He dips back until he’s almost upside-down, before he lessens his grip on the pole just enough to come sliding down at a speed that drops your heart, but he stops before his head touches the floor.
The applause is raucous.
“Isn’t that what I did last night?” Natasha says suddenly, but you’re too enthralled to respond.
“He’s better than you, Nat,” you tease with a nudge. Jeff climbs up the pole again, then clamps his jaws around it, swinging his round body out in a move you can only describe as being the land shark version of a human flag–one of the most difficult calisthenic exercises you’ve ever tried to learn. But whereas it took you months of intensive training to achieve a human flag for even 5 seconds, Jeff seems to have flawless core strength as he holds his body out, perfectly perpendicular to the floor.
“YEAH, JEFF!” you scream, scaring Natasha. You’re probably one of the few people here who truly understand the difficulties of the exercise, and you want to make sure Jeff’s feat is appropriately appreciated.
Jeff takes the pole in his hands again, twirling around it while pausing in several positions with his legs split or kicked out. He mimes walking on air for a few seconds during his descent and if the crowd hadn’t been loud already, you’re pretty sure they’re going to shatter the windows. Jeff lands safely on the floor, bounding up and bowing as people take pictures and continue to cheer.
“I wonder where he learned how to do that,” Bruce says, clapping his hands.
“Yes,” Natasha agrees, a strange realization dawning on her but she’s too embarrassed to say it out loud. She will have to make sure the bedroom door is properly closed and locked from now on. “I wonder…”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
AN: Special thanks to @nameforthemain for this beautiful sketch that inspired this fic!
Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰
real image of SB waiting for Nat to literally suck 'em dry as the Sahara
Operation: Avalanche
Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Sergeant!Reader
18+ only read at your own risk
Summary: Your first big mission on deployment doesn’t go as planned.
Word count: 3636
AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.
This is Part 3 in my Sergeant Beef series. It is the main canon version of this very angsty AU I wrote.
“If we get out of here alive, I’m making Fury pay for my next vacation out of his own pocket!” Sam Wilson shouts, dropping onto his stomach as bullets fly over his head.
“Add me to that list,” you respond, yanking the empty magazine out of your rifle and popping in a fresh one.
“Sergeant, I think we need to retreat!” Peter Parker says in a shaky voice, a few yards away where he cowers behind a boulder.
When you don’t respond, your brain racing to formulate an escape plan, Sam does. “And where are we going to go?” Your team was cornered on the side of a mountain, gunfire raining down from above while the rustling of the bushes below indicated another group were coming up for you.
“Maximoff, did you put out the distress signal?” you ask.
“Already did, Sarge! Air support is three minutes out!”
Three minutes was a long time, especially in a hostile environment where every second of action counted.
BOOM.
A boulder, close to the one Peter was taking cover by, explodes into gravel. Everyone ducks and you watch your soldier slump forward, tangling in the strap of his own rifle, laying on his side motionlessly.
“We need to move!” you command. “Start heading east and stay away from the rocks!”
Sam looks at you like you’re crazy to take everyone out of a position of cover, but it’s not very good cover anymore if it can be used against you. You crawl down to where Peter lies, pressing your fingers to his neck and feeling a weak pulse. Adrenaline fuels you as you pick him up, throwing him over your shoulders, your knees protesting at the significant increase of weight, but you maintain a low center of balance and start running after Sam.
“Keep moving, keep moving!” you urge, your ears dulled to the gunfire around you. Your calves burn, your back straining to stay balanced on the uneven terrain with almost 200 pounds of extra weight on top of you. But you promised General Fury that you would bring home everyone on this mission, even at the cost of your own life.
Sam suddenly drops to his knee in front of you and for a moment you think he’s been hit, until he brings up his gun and fires at the bushes near the base of the mountain.
“Wilson, let’s go,” you pant, more concerned with getting out of the battlefield than trying to hold your own.
“Hold on, Sarge, I got a clear shot–”
Blood suddenly stains the side of Sam’s head. It isn’t until he turns to look at you, his eyes wide, that you realize the blood isn’t his.
It’s yours.
Your right leg completely gives out and a hot pain rips up your thigh, taking your breath away. Blood pools heavily on your fatigues and you know you were hit in a bad spot. Peter’s weight on your shoulders causes you to fall forward and you lose your grip on him as he rolls onto the ground.
“Wilson, Wilson take Parker,” you gasp, patting your vest for a tourniquet.
“I’m not leaving you, Sergeant,” Sam says.
“Get everyone else to safety. Keep moving until the bird comes in,” you say, your hands shaking as you struggle just to undo the velcro of the tourniquet.
“Sarge–”
“That’s an order.” There is no time for arguments.
“Let me help you, at least.” Sam takes the tourniquet and slips it up your leg, cinching it tightly above the wound until you can’t feel anything below the strap. He grabs Peter, placing him in the same fireman’s carry you had him in, and starts running away as you take your rifle out to provide coverage.
You prop yourself against a rock, firing at any movement in the bushes. Your heart hammers against your chest and you force yourself to stay focused and not to look after Sam and the other soldiers making greater and greater distance from you. While you would rather not be alone, bleeding out on foreign soil, you know this is your duty and the responsibility you accepted.
One minute until the rescue helicopter arrived.
You count down your bullets, firing sparingly but feeling like for every person you take down, two more appear. A bullet grazes your cheek and the pain is distracting but welcoming from the fear of death. You aren’t really ready to die, but if today is your day, you will accept it with grace.
You think about Natasha and how you hadn’t seen her in three months. How ferociously she fought your deployment and how devastated she was when General Fury wouldn’t budge on your assignment. The last few nights you two spent together were ones you would never forget, and you hoped you would get the chance to spend one more with her.
You twist around to fire near the mountain tops, unable to take on pressure from both angles. As you struggle to reload, another bullet catches you in the side. The pain is explosive and literally blinding as you fall onto your back, helpless and exposed, gasping for air with a punctured lung. You fight to sit back up, your fingers slippery and wet with blood as you maintain a death grip on your weapon. It feels impossibly heavy in your arms now as you try to lift it, using a rock as a crutch when you realize you’re too weak to hold it on your own.
Blackness threatens the edges of your vision and you’re painfully aware of how agonized your breathing sounds as you struggle to draw in air to stay focused. The trigger of your rifle feels like it weighs 1000 pounds, and every shot you take takes considerable effort.
You hear the whistle before the grenade impacts behind you, sending you flying into the air like a ragdoll. You’re not even sure which way is up when you finally land, breathing in dirt and blood. For some reason, you feel embarrassed that this is how they’re going to find your body, if your team gets to you before the enemies do. All the strength you had ever possessed, all the life you had ever lived, crumpled and crushed into a broken body.
You can’t keep your eyes open anymore, as hard as you try. All the noises surrounding you, the gunfire, the screaming, the explosions, seems to fade away. You think about Natasha again, her arms wrapped around you while you lie on her chest, listening to her strong heartbeat while she tells you about all the plans she has for you two. You’re still waiting for the day she finally says that she loves you, but maybe that wasn’t something you were destined to hear.
Unconsciousness takes you slowly and you finally give in, still hoping that your team escaped harm and that you would reunite with Natasha one day.
***********************************************************************
When you try to open your eyes for the first time, it feels like you have anchors attached to your eyelids. It takes you so much effort you don’t even think it’s worth it, until bright white lights cut through and you feel light-headed as consciousness returns to you.
“Y/N? Hey, Y/N?”
“Someone get the doctor.”
“Vitals are spiking.”
You hear voices but don’t recognize them, suddenly overwhelmed by an intense pain that attacks every bone in your body. You’re completely paralyzed by it, your teeth grinding together while you fight to stay awake, but after a few seconds, the pain starts to dissolve into a manageable numbness and you sigh in relief.
“Sergeant Y/N, if you can hear my voice, can you open your eyes for me?”
You’ve been trying to do that this whole time, but your body is reacting so slowly it’s frustrating.
“How about you move a finger for me?”
You try to heed the instruction, but now you’re so numb you’re not sure if you’re moving anything.
“It’s a lot to ask so soon after surgery. We should wait a little while longer.”
There is the shuffling of footsteps.
“Y/N?”
You recognize Natasha’s voice instantly and your eyes fly open, squinting at the harsh lights. It takes you a few seconds to focus on your surroundings, but you come to realize you’re in a hospital bed, wearing only a flimsy paper gown and the entire right side of your body is covered in casts and gauze.
“Y/N?” Natasha jumps up, holding onto your left hand that you see has a clear plastic tube taped to the veins. “Oh my God, you’re actually awake. How do you feel, baby?”
Your mouth tastes like you swallowed a handful of sand. It takes a second before you have enough saliva in your mouth to speak. “Wheremeye?” you garble out. Natasha grabs a white cup from the nightstand and holds it to your lips so you can take a few sips. “Thanks…” you gasp, surprised at how much saying one word hurts. “Where…Where am I?”
“Fort Sam,” Natasha answers. You notice how she hasn’t let go of your hand once. She’s dressed casually, her hair tied into a messy bun that would not pass even the most generous of uniform inspections. Her eyes are red and irritated, her cheeks dry, like she’s spent the last 24 hours crying.
“S-Sam?” you ask, you mind first going to your teammate.
“Fort Sam in Houston, Texas,” Natasha says. “They brought you here to the medical center after your mission was compromised.”
“Mission?” The memories come back to you in pieces. You remember the ambush, Peter getting knocked out by an explosion, carrying him to safety before taking a bullet yourself, then telling Sam to go on with the rest of the team while you stayed behind and tried to cover them. “My team…Where’s my team?”
“They’re fine,” Natasha says. “Parker had a minor concussion, and the rest had some scrapes and bruises, but everyone is fine.”
“Good, good.” You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if something worse had happened to your teammates, although you’re not exactly thrilled with your current position either.
“Do you remember what happened?” Natasha asks.
“A little bit.” But you’re not ready to talk about it and she can sense that.
“I love you,” Natasha blurts out suddenly.
“Huh?” you say dumbly, although you had heard her perfectly clear.
“I love you so much, and I was so worried when Fury called me and said your team had been ambushed and that you were in critical condition,” she rambles. “I didn’t know if I was going to see you again, and then I thought about how I never told you how I really feel about you…”
“Do you mean it?” you ask, wondering if this confession was just a result of the high emotions. Natasha was an infamously private person, even around you, but she had eventually warmed up to you in a way she hadn’t to anyone else before. Still, this was a level of emotion you had never seen from her before and you wanted to make sure it was real.
“I love you with all my heart,” she says, holding your hand tighter and leaning forward to kiss your cheek gently. “And I can’t imagine my life without you.”
“I love you, too,” you say, with as much passion as you can muster. You want to reach out and wrap her in a hug, hold her tightly and promise her that you’re not going anywhere, but you’re so weak you can’t even squeeze her hand back.
Natasha stays close to your side as the painkillers lull you back into unconsciousness. Her presence is comforting and you know you’ll be safe with her watching over you.
***********************************************************************
You wake up a few hours later, Natasha still next to you, and a doctor comes in to bring you up to speed. Your entire team had been evacuated from the field successfully, with you sustaining the worst injuries with bullets going through your thigh and right lung. You also broke your right arm when you landed wrong on it after being propelled into the air by a grenade explosion. Long story short, your body was a complete mess and it would be a few months before you would be back to your usual self.
Natasha cashed in all her time off to stay with you as long as she could at the Fort Sam base. You were a little surprised but grateful, and having her around kept your mind off the fact that you were stuck in a bed for weeks. You had a lot of visitors, most of them your superiors and co-workers, but you preferred Natasha’s company over any of them.
One day you’re watching workout videos on YouTube, jealously groveling over the fact that by the time the doctors let you out of bed, you probably wouldn’t be able to lift even 5-pound weights without a struggle, Natasha comes in with some plastic basins and a few towels folded under her arms.
“Hello,” you say, closing your laptop to give her your full attention. “What are those for?”
“Your nurse told me it’s your bath day,” Natasha says. “And I figured you might want me to help you over her.”
“Are you jealous?” you tease, as she goes over to the sink and fills one of the bowls with water.
“No,” she says, and you don’t believe her for a second. “I just want to make sure you’re taken care of.”
“Everyone here has been really good to me,” you defend.
“Yeah, but your nurse can’t take care of you the way I can.” She looks over her shoulder at you with a smirk.
“Oh.” Obviously, it had been nearly impossible for you two to be intimate because of your injuries, and with the number of medications you were on and everything else going on, you hadn’t really been in the mood. But when Natasha looks at you with lustful eyes, the blood rushes into your groin and you’re immediately light-headed.
Natasha comes back to your side and assembles all the supplies she needs. You watch quietly, not new to this process, but curious to see if she’s just as competent as your nurse was.
“Do you want me to wash your hair, too?” she asks.
“If it’s not too much.” You hate feeling so helpless and like a burden to others, even if it was their jobs. You still can’t even get out of bed to use the bathroom, and the mental effort it takes to summon the courage to press the call button when you need something is the equivalent of running a marathon.
“I can do that,” Natasha says. It’s rare to see her soft side, but you won’t tease her compassion. You suspect that she’s actually thrilled at this opportunity to take care of you, but again, you won’t comment.
She starts by laying you on your back and propping your head inside an inflatable basin. With surprising proficiency, she rinses your hair and lathers in a foamy shampoo, while you close your eyes and enjoy the massage. She nudges you awake and sits you back up, drying your hair with a loose towel.
“How is that?” she asks.
“It felt really nice,” you say.
“Good.” She’s acting almost strangely professional with you, but you don’t question it. She takes off your gown and wets a washcloth, wiping it over your face and neck, then across your shoulders and down your left arm. You notice her linger along the scar on your bicep and flex your arm experimentally to see her reaction. Luckily, it hasn’t been too long that your muscles have atrophied from the lack of use, but you want to take advantage while you still can. Natasha doesn’t say anything, but you see the corners of her lips lifting in a small grin.
She washes your chest and abs, careful around the gauze pad taped to your side where a bullet had spiraled through your ribs and poked a hole in your lung. When she lifts the gown off your legs, she chuckles at the fact that you’re not wearing any underwear and also ragingly hard.
“Uh, this doesn’t normally happen with my nurse,” you defend, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, even though you’re certain this is as much of a turn on for her as it is for you.
“It’s okay. I’ll take care of that once I’m done washing the rest of you,” she says with a wink, and you feel yourself throb at the prospect.
She washes your legs and feet, then carefully rolls you onto your side to wash your back and butt. It feels awkward now to have her take care of you like this, for her to see how useless you are that you can’t even wipe your own ass, but she doesn’t say anything until you’re rolled back over.
“Almost done,” she says, grabbing a fresh washcloth and carefully wiping your groin area. “There we go.”
“Thanks, Nat.” You watch her take all the supplies away and wash her hands in the sink, suddenly feeling very sleepy despite the fact that you did literally nothing. You lean back against your pillows and close your eyes. When you open them only seconds later, Natasha is pulled up in a chair by your bedside.
“If you’re tired, you can sleep,” she says.
You shake your head stubbornly. Every second Natasha is with you, you want to take advantage of. Because she won’t be with you forever–literally, since in a few weeks she would have to return to Fort Bragg in North Carolina, and you didn’t know when you’d see her after that. It could be several more months that you were stuck here, working through physical therapy and any subsequent surgeries you needed. Natasha said she would try to relocate to a base closer to you, but she couldn’t make any promises.
You hold out your hand for her to take and squeeze her fingers as tightly as you can.
“I love you,” you say, fearing that you can’t get the point across enough. Your near-brush with death taught you a lot, most importantly how not to take any moments for granted.
“I love you, too,” Natasha responds, and the heart rate monitor embarrassingly outs your excitement when the beeping skyrockets for a few seconds. She laughs. “Well, looks like you can’t hide anything from me anymore,” she says.
“I wasn’t hiding anything,” you say, your eyes darting to between your legs, where you are still very exposed and very hard. “Also, you made this happen and you did promise you'd take of it," you remind her.
“I did.” Natasha reaches over and holds your cock in her warm hand. You try and fail to hide your excitement at her mere touch, glaring at the heart rate monitor in frustration. “Don’t be mad, it’s kind of hot how nervous I make you,” she says.
“I’m not nervous, I’m just happy you’re here,” you explain.
“Oh, I can see you’re very happy.” She starts stroking you slowly and you struggle to sit up so you can watch. Her thumb rubs circles around your tip and you sigh in pleasure. You had been entirely uninterested in getting yourself off when you had been alone, but with Natasha here, it suddenly feels right.
As pre-cum drips out of the head, Natasha wipes it off and rubs it up and down your cock, keeping a tight pressure with her fingers that almost has you moaning if you hadn’t stopped yourself. Your hips try arching off the bed, but the movement causes too much pain in your thigh so you’re forced to stay grounded. The muscles in your abs tense as you breathe heavily, helplessly reaching or the railing of the bed with your good hand to stabilize yourself.
“Fuck, Nat, that feels so good,” you whine when she adds her other hand, but even then your length is so big she can’t cover it all with both hands. Your cock is practically glistening with you own pre-cum now, and you tilt your head back into the pillow with a moan when Natasha rubs the sensitive spot below your tip.
“Don’t make a mess,” she warns, her hands jerking you faster, twisting her wrists in opposite directions. You squirm on the bed, embarrassed at how soon you’re about to cum, but you blame it on the medications and your lack of practice. As your breathing picks up, your side stretches and there is a lightning bolt of pain up your ribs, but you ignore it as the ball of arousal in your stomach tightens.The slick noises your cock makes as Natasha pumps you in and out of her hand are so filthy that your head spins.
“Oh, God. Please, Nat, I think…can I…I’m gonna…” You are completely incoherent as you watch Natasha jerk you off, throbbing in her hands so hard that she can feel your heartbeat. You have no idea how you’re not going to make a mess, unless she stops touching you, but you can’t think of anything you want less right now.
Without saying anything, Natasha leans over and sucks your tip into her mouth. The wetness and warmth of her mouth is too much and you grunt as you release yourself in a few rather weak spurts. She swallows everything you give her, her tongue licking up every drop, before she draws back and smiles at you. Your cock is limp against your leg almost immediately.
“That felt really nice,” you pant, flopping back on the bed, truly spent now. “I’ll return the favor soon, baby. I promise.”
She gives your cock a soft pat. “I know you will.”
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AN: And all is well again. It was nice seeing Sergeant Romanoff being soft with Sergeant Beef for once. :)
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yo frrr the number of screen protectors i've gone through all bc of my unhealthy nanggigil habit of pretending to throw/hit my phone against smth then actually doing so
In regards to this ask about Seb being so cute, I think of a word that my Filipino friend taught me, "Gigil". Here's a definition! Oh and there's an Indonesian equivalent!
I just want to tackle hug Seb cause he definitely triggers the gigil response in me too!! Glad to hear I'm not alone lolol!
OMG this is EXACTLY what it is 💞💞💞💞 I had never heard if 'Gigil' or 'Gemas', but both sound incredibly accurate for describing how we often feel when we see or even just think about Sebastian 😤😭🥺🥰 I love this so much!!!
No thoughts, head empty. Only this bby 😳
