#(because it's a tone setting prologue) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

claramelooo · 1 month ago

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YeY, my readers! Another chapter to brighten up your lonely nights.

I'm thinking about posting a chapter every day while I'm on vacation, but don't hunt me down if I'm late with a chapter LOL

Enjoy it! <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warning: +18, NSFW

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem reader

Summary: Your relationship with Wanda deepens more and more after the kiss.

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 - Predator | Part 2 - The Prey | Part 3 - On your Knees | Part 4 - The Spider

VELVET CHAINS

The Lamb

Mornings began to take on a new rhythm. Your phone buzzed with punctual messages, always at the same time, as the sunlight painted the sky a soft orange.

"Good morning, my darling. I hope you slept well. I'm thinking of you."

You read the message with your heart pounding as if it were the very first time. Each word brought an involuntary smile to your lips, and your response was swift: a shy emoji, a short phrase. Wanda always replied quickly, her tone steady and composed, subtly steering the conversation with a calm confidence that was nearly impossible to disrupt.

The days passed like a carefully choreographed dance. In the library, stolen moments were brief enough to go unnoticed by others yet intense enough to set your body ablaze and your heart racing.

You were arranging books in the history section when you sensed her presence before even seeing her. That familiar, subtle perfume—already uniquely tied to Wanda in your mind—reached you before her voice.

"Need help with that?"

Her tone was casual, but when you turned around, her eyes gleamed with something deeper. Without waiting for your reply, she stepped closer, taking one of the books from your hands. Her fingers brushed against yours, and for a fleeting moment, time seemed to stop.

"Sure," you replied nervously, feeling your face heat under her intense gaze.

She was so close that her body heat seemed to wrap around you like an invisible blanket. As she examined the book she’d taken from you, her head tilted slightly, almost absentmindedly. You couldn't help but notice how every movement she made seemed deliberate, as though even the act of flipping through pages carried an unspoken intent.

"History section, huh?" she commented with a small smile, her fingers lightly grazing the pages. "I've always found it fascinating how some things never change, no matter how much time passes."

You swallowed hard. "Well… I guess some stories are timeless."

"I agree," she said, lifting her gaze to meet yours. "Like us."

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. It was incredible how easily she left you speechless with a simple comment. Before you could recover, Wanda leaned slightly, placing the book back on the shelf. The gesture seemed casual, but her proximity sent your heart into overdrive.

"You know," she said with playful mischief, "there’s a library rule against inappropriate behavior."

"I… didn’t know that," you stammered, trying to ignore the fact that her body was almost touching yours.

"Oh, there is," she confirmed, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she leaned closer. "Something about not kissing anyone between the shelves."

You blinked, startled. "I don’t think that’s in the rules…"

"It should be," she murmured, her voice low and husky, "because it makes me want to break them."

Before you could react, she stepped back with a triumphant smile, holding another book she seemed to have chosen at random. "I’ll take this one," she said, as if the charged tension between you didn’t exist.

Then, just as she was about to walk away completely, Wanda leaned in again, this time whispering near your ear, "That short skirt of yours is driving me crazy."

You froze, heat flooding your body as she walked away, her soft laughter echoing between the shelves. Her words lingered in your mind, your body reacting even before you could fully process them. A shiver ran down your spine, and your skin seemed to burn under the weight of her suggestion.

When you finally managed to turn to look at her, she was already a few steps away, pretending to peruse another book. But the sly smile on her lips gave away her true intentions.

"Wanda…" you called softly, your voice shakier than you intended.

She turned slowly, her eyes alight as though savoring every second of your reaction. "Yes, darling?"

You swallowed hard, searching for something to say, but the words escaped you. All you could think about was the way she looked at you, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world at that moment.

"You’re teasing me," you finally managed, trying to sound firm, though your voice trembled slightly.

Wanda took a step closer, then another, until she was so near you could feel the heat radiating off her. "Teasing?" she repeated, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You think I’m teasing?"

Your breath hitched as she raised a hand, her fingertips tracing a light line along your arm. The touch was almost imperceptible, yet it felt like fire against your skin.

"Because if I am teasing," she continued, tilting her head, "you wouldn’t be reacting like this."

"I’m not reacting," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, though it betrayed the lie.

Wanda laughed softly, a low sound that reverberated through you, as if she could see right through your fragile facade. Taking another step closer, she closed the already small distance between you until her warmth was nearly suffocating.

"Not reacting?" she questioned, her tone dripping with disbelief as she arched an eyebrow. "Then why are your cheeks burning?"

Your lips parted to respond, but no sound came out. Her proximity, her voice, and the intensity of her gaze left you completely disarmed. When you tried to step back, Wanda moved with you, maintaining the impossibly close distance.

"Y/n," she whispered, her voice low and rough as her fingers traveled up your arm, stopping at the curve of your neck. "Do you really think you can hide this from me?"

Your eyes locked with hers, and the weight of her gaze seemed to pierce straight through you. It was overwhelming, like she could see every thought and emotion you were trying to bury.

"I… I don’t know what you’re talking about," you managed to say, but your voice shook, and Wanda’s eyes gleamed with a mix of satisfaction and desire.

"Don’t you?" she replied, leaning closer, her breath warm against your skin. "Then why are your lips trembling when I’m this close?"

Her fingers trailed along your jawline until she gently tilted your chin, forcing you to meet her gaze.

"Why don’t you tell me what you’re really feeling, hmm?"

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening under the intensity of the moment. "Wanda, I…"

"Come on, sweetheart," she interrupted, her eyes darkening as she tilted her head, her lips hovering mere millimeters from yours. "I’m waiting."

The silence between you was electric, the air so thick it was hard to breathe. And then,almost instinctively, you closed your eyes, surrendering completely to the moment."I… I’m nervous."

Her lips twitched into a predatory smile—a wolf savoring its prey.

Hearing your confession, Wanda finally closed the gap, her lips capturing yours with an almost calculated precision yet brimming with fervor. The kiss demanded a response, coaxing you to cast aside any hesitation or fear.

You clung to her, your hands gripping her arms like lifelines, and Wanda pulled you closer, her fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in a possessive grip.

When she pulled back, her eyes gleamed, and her victorious smile left you breathless.

"That’s all I needed," Wanda murmured, her voice soft as her fingers trailed through your hair. "Just a little honesty."

“Wanda…” you whispered to yourself, finally letting out the breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. The sound of footsteps in the distance made the two of you step apart. She smiled, that lazy, secretive smile, as she adjusted her hair like nothing had happened. Yet, before you could even try to collect yourself, you heard her voice from the next section:

“Oh, and darling? Bring me a coffee. I like mine strong, no sugar, and hot. Just like you.” She winked at you, teasing.

With your face completely red, you tried to focus on organizing the books, but you knew her smile would be the last thing you’d be able to forget that day.

“I’ll be back later,” she said in a nonchalant tone, leaving you there with trembling legs and a racing heart.

At night, the pattern repeated. As you climbed the stairs to your room after a family dinner, you checked your phone, and there she was again, as if she were everywhere all at once.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I wish you were here with me right now.”

And then came the calls, always after your study sessions—long calls filled with comfortable silences, soft laughter, and conversations that seemed simple but always carried an undertone. You felt, somehow, that Wanda was shaping you, pulling you deeper into her world.

Wanda, on the other hand, felt alive again. The world, once so predictable, had gained color once more. Every shy smile of yours, every hesitant response, was like a spark reigniting something she hadn’t realized had gone out.

The control she held over you was like a masterpiece she sculpted with patience and care. But beneath her obsession, there was something deeper: a silent fear that you might slip away.

Still, she never let it show. The next day, the ritual began again, and you, without even realizing it, surrendered more and more to the web Wanda wove around you.

Wanda sat at the dinner table, twirling a wine glass in her hand with a distracted air. Vision moved through the room with calculated steps, his presence always meticulous, always restrained. But tonight, there was something different. The tension in the air was almost tangible.

“You’ve been… distant,” he began, stopping beside the table. His voice was calm but carried a concern that didn’t feel genuine.

“Distant?” Wanda repeated, not lifting her gaze from the glass. A light, almost ironic smile played on her lips. “I’d say busy.”

Vision sighed, pulling out a chair to sit down. He placed his hands on the table, fingers interlaced. “Busy, then? With what, exactly? It doesn’t seem to be with the family.”

His tone was accusatory, but Wanda didn’t flinch. She lifted her gaze, finally meeting his eyes. Hers were calm, cold. “With what I’ve always been: trying to keep everything running. Someone has to do it, since you’re always off on your ‘business trips.’”

“Oh, so that’s it?” Vision asked, leaning slightly forward. “This is about me? About my trips? Wanda, you knew from the beginning that my work was part of who I am.”

“Just as my life is part of who I am,” she countered, her voice gaining a firmness that made him hesitate. “And yet, you expect me to mold myself to your world, to fit into it without question. But maybe I’ve started questioning.”

Vision blinked, confused, trying to grasp what she meant. “Wanda, that’s not fair. We built this together.”

“Built?” She laughed, but there was no humor in her laugh. “Vision, we followed a script. One you wrote, but never bothered to ask if I wanted to act in it.”

The silence between them was deafening until Vision, weary, shook his head. “What do you want, Wanda? What’s the solution to this?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she let her gaze wander around the room. The walls, the furniture, the carefully organized life they had built together. A life that, not long ago, had seemed enough.

But now...

Her thoughts drifted to you. To the warmth of your shy smile, to the way your eyes lit up when she said something that touched you. Thinking of you was like breathing fresh air after years of suffocation.

The weight on Wanda’s shoulders eased instantly. As if all the problems with Vision, all the arguments, were nothing but distant noise.

“I don’t know what I want,” she finally replied, standing from the table and picking up her wine glass. “But I know I won’t find the answer here.”

She left the room without looking back, leaving Vision alone, lost in his thoughts. Climbing the stairs, Wanda felt lighter. The world seemed less oppressive when she thought of you.

[...]

Another Sunday, another sermon. The day dragged on at a pace Wanda found nearly cruel. The pastor spoke enthusiastically about patience as a virtue, though ironically, he seemed to lack any urgency in concluding his message. She sat on the pew with her arms crossed, trying not to sigh audibly.

Her sharp eyes scanned the congregation, searching for anything to distract her restless mind. But there was nothing beyond familiar faces, whispered conversations, and children failing to stay still.

Same as always, she thought, as boredom settled in with a vengeance.

But then, as the sermon finally drew to a close, Wanda caught something intriguing. Two rows ahead, her mother was speaking with Dotty. Their voices were low, almost conspiratorial, but Wanda had a near-supernatural ability to pick up details when she wanted to.

A fragment of conversation snagged her attention.

"I just don’t know if we can trust leaving her alone. She’s so... restless at times," her mother’s soft, worried voice floated over, accompanied by polite smiles exchanged with Dotty.

"Wouldn’t it be a good idea to take her with you?" Dotty suggested, leaning in slightly.

"Oh no, that would ruin the mood of the trip. We need some time for ourselves," her mother replied, sounding embarrassed. "But I also can’t leave Y/n completely unsupervised. She needs someone responsible, someone who understands her... challenges."

Wanda nearly laughed aloud at that. Challenges? It was an almost endearing understatement.

Curiosity piqued, she rose discreetly, adjusting the tight dress that hugged her silhouette perfectly. Her steps were light, almost inaudible, as she approached the two women. Once close enough to be noticed, she smiled politely, her expression more friendly than genuine.

“Hello, ladies! What do you talk about?” Wanda delivered her most dazzling and irresistible smile to the pair.

Both Dotty and your mother turned simultaneously, visibly startled by the sudden interruption. But Wanda knew how to disarm any reaction with her magnetic presence and impeccably practiced smile.

“Wanda! What a surprise to see you wandering over to this side,” her mother responded, clearly grateful for the unexpected distraction. “We were discussing the trip my husband and I are planning.”

“Oh, a trip,” Wanda said, her eyes lighting up with apparent curiosity. “Where to?” She infused her voice with interest that sounded fake to her but seemed to escape her mother’s notice.

“A second honeymoon in Santorini,” her mother replied with a hint of pride, while Dotty murmured something impressed.

“How romantic,” Wanda murmured, tilting her head slightly. “But you seem tense, dear. What’s the matter?”

Your mother sighed, adjusting her pearl necklace in a nervous gesture. “My concern has a name and a rebellious streak, as you know… Young people these days,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes before continuing. “I don’t want to leave Y/n alone, you know how she is... independent, yet still so young.”

Wanda’s brow furrowed, a slight crease of concern appearing on her face. She sat down beside the two women, as if genuinely interested. “Y/n is truly a special young lady. And you’re right; leaving someone so sweet and full of life alone could be risky. There are so many dangers...”

“Exactly!” your mother exclaimed, seemingly comforted by Wanda’s empathy.

“Well,” Wanda continued smoothly, “if you need someone to look after her while you’re away, I’d be happy to help. I already spend a lot of time with her at the library and have developed quite a... fondness for her.”

Dotty narrowed her eyes briefly, but her expression quickly returned to neutral. Your mother, on the other hand, lit up with immediate relief.

“Would you really do that? Oh, Wanda, that would be a godsend. I’ve been so worried.”

“Of course,” Wanda responded, placing a reassuring hand on her mother’s shoulder. “It would be my pleasure. Besides, Y/n and I get along very well. I’m sure she’ll feel comfortable with me.”

“Perfect then,” your mother said, visibly lighter. “I’ll confirm the travel details and let Y/n know tonight. You’re an angel, Wanda.”

Dotty, however, observed in silence, her faint smile not quite reaching her eyes. “You’re very kind, Wanda,” she remarked, her voice carrying something that might have been admiration or suspicion.

Wanda simply smiled, not letting her perfect mask slip. “I enjoy helping where I can.”

As she walked away, Wanda felt a wave of satisfaction swell inside her. The thought of having you under her roof, within the comfort of her home, made something tighten in her chest in a way that was almost painfully sweet.

“My little one,” she thought, nearly laughing at the irony. “They have no idea how much you’re already mine.”

The day had finally arrived. The morning seemed brighter than usual, sunlight flooding the living room as your parents finalized preparations for their trip. Your mother was radiant, dressed in an elegant outfit with a smile as bright as the sky outside. Your father, more reserved, was still double-checking the documents and tickets with his usual seriousness.

You were sitting on the couch, hugging a pillow, trying to mask the unease you felt. It wasn’t their trip that bothered you but the idea of spending so much time under Wanda’s watchful eyes.

“Sweetheart, come here,” your mother called, breaking through your thoughts. You got up slowly and walked over to her. She held your hands, squeezing them affectionately. “I know it feels strange to leave you here, but I promise it’ll be quick. And Wanda is wonderful; you’ll be in good hands.”

“Yes, Mom,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you actually felt.

Your father approached, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Be a good girl and don’t give us any reason to worry, okay?”

Before you could respond, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house. It was her.

Your mother opened the door with an enthusiasm that seemed slightly forced, though you knew she truly trusted Wanda. And there she was: impeccable as always, dressed in neutral tones but exuding a natural sophistication that was magnetic.

“Wanda! So good to see you,” your mother exclaimed, giving the woman a brief hug.

“Good morning,” Wanda replied with a warm smile, her eyes discreetly flicking to you for a fraction of a second before returning to your parents. “I hope you’re excited about your trip.”

“Oh, very,” your mother said, pulling Wanda inside. “And you’re sure it’s no trouble to take care of her?”

“Not at all,” Wanda said quickly, casting a glance your way that made your stomach tighten. “It’ll be a pleasure. Y/n is a lovely young woman, and we’ve already spent quite some time together at the library. It’ll be wonderful to have more time with her.”

Your mother smiled, satisfied with the answer. After a few more hurried goodbyes, your parents finally left, promising to call as soon as they landed.

The door closed, and suddenly, the house was silent—a silence that seemed to hang heavy in the air. You and Wanda stood still for a moment, her eyes fixed on yours in a way that made your skin tingle.

“So,” she began, breaking the silence, her voice soft but carrying something you couldn’t quite decipher. “Just the two of us now.”

There was a calm certainty in her words, one that made you feel any resistance would be futile. She smiled, picking up your small suitcase and setting it aside.

“Where should we begin?” she asked, her gaze almost predatory as it locked onto you.

Your blood rushed to your cheeks, and you offered her a shy smile. “Hi…” you whispered.

Wanda bit the corner of her lip and strode toward you, her hands finding your waist. “Hi, little one…” she purred into your ear, making you gasp. “I missed you.”

Wanda pulled you into a firm yet gentle embrace, enveloping you completely. Her arms around your waist felt both protective and possessive, and you couldn’t help the slight shiver that ran down your spine. Her scent—a mix of expensive perfume and something inherently her—surrounded you, and you almost closed your eyes, as if you could lose yourself in that moment.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Wanda murmured, her voice low and melodic, as if it were a secret shared only between the two of you. “How did you manage so well without me around?”

Your voice faltered for a second before you managed to respond, a slight tremor in your words. “I… don’t know. But I’m glad you’re here now.”

She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her fingers reaching up to brush aside a strand of hair that had fallen onto your forehead. The touch was soft but deliberate, and you felt your face heat even more under her intense gaze.

“You’re so sweet,” Wanda said with a smile that seemed maternal but carried something more, something that made your pulse quicken. “And so obedient… I bet you did well.”

You lowered your eyes, feeling both embarrassed and strangely pleased by her words. It felt so comforting, her treating you this way… maternal? Wanda tilted her head, studying you as if reading every thought.

“It’s okay, Dekta. You can relax with me,” she said gently, her fingers now lightly caressing your cheek. “Let me take care of you, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything now.”

You nodded, your submission clear and genuine in the gesture. Wanda seemed pleased, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. Your posture was stiff, almost awkward—as if you weren’t used to this kind of comforting presence.

Wanda noticed your hesitation, the way your shoulders remained tense as if you still weren’t sure whether to relax or keep your defenses up. She didn’t rush anything; instead, her movements were calculated, gentle, as if handling something fragile and precious.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” she whispered, taking your hand and guiding you onto her lap. “Sit here.”

You obeyed without thinking, settling onto her lap with your hands nervously resting on your knees. Wanda didn’t speak for a moment, simply letting her presence envelop you, her calmness radiating until it began to seep into you.

When she placed a hand at the curve of your neck, the weight seemed to dissolve all the tension you’d been holding. She slid it gently down your back, drawing lazy, soothing circles that sent waves of warmth across your skin. You closed your eyes reflexively, feeling strangely safe, as if there was no danger in the world while you were there under her touch.

“There,” Wanda murmured, more to herself than to you. “Let it all go. Everything holding you back, everything weighing on you… you don’t have to carry any of it now. Not while you’re with me.”

She pulled you closer, making you rest your face against her chest. You felt it rise and fall with her steady, deep breaths. She began to hum softly, and the vibration in her chest lulled you further into relaxation.

Your eyelids grew heavier, and heavier, and heavier. Until the last thing you heard was a barely audible whisper.

“Mommy will make it all go away…”

Wanda felt you completely relax in her arms, the weight of your body now light and surrendered. It was a unique, almost intoxicating sensation to realize how much you trusted her, how willing you were to let go. She knew this went far beyond the physical. It was something emotional, visceral.

She observed you for a moment, your long lashes resting on your cheeks as your breathing slowed, rhythmic and calm. Every small movement of yours seemed so innocent, so vulnerable, that Wanda felt a surge of emotions she hadn't realized she was capable of experiencing. A mix of tenderness, possessiveness, and something burning deep within her: the need to care for you, to protect you... to have you entirely for herself.

She ran her fingers through your hair, gently combing it as she murmured soothing words, almost inaudible. "Good girl… so sweet, so mine…"

Each word was a quiet reminder to herself, an affirmation of the bond she was building between you. Wanda felt a maternal warmth growing in her chest, something she hadn’t felt since her own children. But this was different, deeper. With you, she didn’t just want to protect; she wanted to mold. To guide you until you completely depended on her.

She tilted her head, her lips brushing your forehead in a soft kiss. A sigh escaped her lips as she allowed herself to sink into the moment, into this role that felt so natural to her. You were perfect like this, Wanda thought. Fragile, delicate, needy.

“My little girl,” she murmured again, with a small, satisfied smile.

And there was something more—a feeling of quiet power. She knew you needed her, that you trusted her in a way no one else could. And it fed something dark and secret within her, a desire to keep you exactly like this: dependent, submissive, hers.

Wanda watched as you slept, your features soft and relaxed. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to disrupt the moment. But at the same time, a part of her was already planning what would come next.

She wasn’t in a hurry. You had all the time in the world, and Wanda was willing to make it last. To mold you little by little, to tear down any remaining barriers, until you no longer remembered who you were without her.

“I’ll take care of you, Dekta,” she whispered, more to herself than to you. “Forever.”

[...]

You wake up with a start, as if everything has been a dream. However, you find yourself in your room, covered with soft blankets that do not seem like your own. You feel light, in such an intense state of relaxation that it leaves you lethargic.

Descending your stairs, you find two packed suitcases leaning against the door. Reaching the kitchen, you see Wanda taking something out of the oven and upon seeing you, she offers you a brilliant smile.

“Look who’s awake…”

You blink, still drowsy, trying to process the scene in front of you. Wanda is there, impeccable as always, with an apron tied around her slim waist, her hair perfectly arranged, her face illuminated by that smile that seems both welcoming and… dangerous.

“Did you sleep well, Dekta?” she asks, her soft voice laden with a warmth that makes you blush instantly.

You murmur something inaudible, feeling a bit awkward under her penetrating gaze. Wanda places the dish on the counter and approaches slowly, like a predator observing its prey.

“You looked so calm,” she says, her eyes scanning your face, every reaction being silently noted. “I made sure you needed this rest.”

“I… thank you,” you murmur, swallowing hard as she continues to approach.

“No need to thank me, dear,” Wanda replies, now close enough for you to feel the warmth of her body. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

You nod, your throat dry, unable to find words. The way she looks at you, like she can see right into your soul, is both disarming and captivating.

“Come,” Wanda says, extending her hand to you. “Sit down. I made something special.”

You hesitate for a moment before accepting her hand. Her warm fingers wrap around yours, and the touch is enough to make your heart race. She guides you to the table, where plates are elegantly arranged with a breakfast that looks like it came from a culinary magazine.

Wanda pulls a chair out for you, her eyes never leaving yours as you sit down. She leans slightly, adjusting the blanket still draped over your shoulders, and whispers: “Are you comfortable, my little girl?”

You can only nod, feeling your cheeks burn. There is something about the way she says these words, the way she takes care of you, that makes your head spin.

As you eat, Wanda sits across from you, watching with a calm yet unyielding intensity. Each time you look up at her, you feel a warmth rising up your spine.

“You seem nervous,” she comments with a subtle smile, tilting her head. “Is everything alright, Dekta?”

“I just…” you hesitate, your fingers playing with the fork. “I’m not used to… this.”

“To what?” she asks, her voice low and inviting, her eyes fixed on yours.

“To someone taking care of me like this,” you admit, your voice a bit shaky.

Wanda smiles, this time with a depth to her expression. “Then it’s time for you to get used to it.”

The silence that follows is heavy, filled with a tension you don’t know how to dissipate. Wanda reaches out again, this time holding your hand across the table, her fingers tracing soft circles on your skin.

“You know you can trust me, don’t you?” she asks, her voice almost a whisper.

You nod slowly, your eyes locked with hers.

“Then show me,” Wanda continues, her eyes darkening slightly. “Show me that you trust me, Dekta.”

Your heart races. You know what she is insinuating, you know what she is expecting. But taking the initiative seems as frightening as it is necessary.

You take a deep breath, trying to gather your courage, and slowly lean over the table. Wanda’s gaze never wavers, encouraging you, pulling you closer.

And then, finally, your lips meet hers in a hesitant but emotion-filled kiss. Wanda responds immediately, but with delicate control, guiding you as if she knows exactly how to make you comfortable.

When you pull away, breathless, Wanda’s eyes shine with a mix of satisfaction and something more, something that makes your legs tremble.

“Such a brave little girl…” she whispers, her voice as sweet as it is possessive.

You exhale.

“I’m not a baby.” You say, forcing your pride.

Wanda clicks her tongue and murmurs something under her breath.

“Oh, yes… You’re a big girl, aren’t you?”

But what is this? You’re a girl! And a big one! Why is she talking to you like you’re some stupid child? And why is it sending waves of heat to your core?

Wanda forces you to look at her and meet her intense, wild—and cruel—eyes. You stay like this for a moment, until your body starts to tingle under the effect of her presence.

“Are you okay, sweetheart? You’re squirming all over…” she blows into your ear, making you let out a small moan. “Do you feel strange, my sweet?” you try to escape her, averting your gaze, but Wanda seems determined to see you embarrassed and small in front of her.

You nod your head, trying to stammer a response while being caught up in her.

“Uh, I know, dear. I know…” the older woman murmurs. “But I want you to use your big girl words and tell me where it feels strange.” her voice seems to grow, almost as if she’s holding back.

“I…” You rub your legs together, trying to alleviate the growing burn in your core.

“I know it's hard, isn't it, sweetheart?” You nod vehemently. She’s so close it’s making you lose your senses. “But you’re a smart girl, aren't you? I know you can. Use your words for me, come on, Y/n.”

Breathing deeply, trembling, looking at her, her lips so close to yours you could lean in and capture them. A trembling hand resting against your core.

“Here.”

“Ah, your tummy? Your tummy feels strange?” she places her hand over the spot and starts massaging it, making you automatically let out a moan at the feel of her warm palm.

So close to where you need it most, but so far…

“Eyes open for me, baby.” at the woman’s command, you realize you were so relaxed you had closed your eyes, and upon opening them, you see her most radiant smile.

“Good girl! There you are!” Wanda purrs, making your eyes roll back at the feel of her breath in your ear.

You smiled shyly, loving the taste of her words.

“Do you want anything else, dear?”

You shake your head, feeling your hair mess up with the movement.

“No? It doesn’t feel slimy anywhere else?” the wrinkle in her forehead showed she wasn’t happy.

Her hand, which previously held your cheek gently, now holds your chin, her fingers pinching your cheeks, making a painful pout. Not too harsh in itself, but firm enough to remind you who’s in charge.

"It's not polite for little girls to lie," her tone is severe in a way that makes you feel like you're being chastised.

You whimper at the thought that she might be mad at you.

"I'm sorry, Wanda..." your words come out a bit muffled by the way she’s pinching your cheeks.

Her expression softens and she lowers her face to the crook of your neck, hugging you against her as she places a kiss against your nape.

"I know, dear, it’s okay." she says, rubbing firm circles on your back. "Perhaps I should just check then, hmm?"

Your eyes widen in shock but she just smiles, seeming delighted, as if she didn’t just The smile that formed on Wanda's face was not the same as before. It was deeper, more laden, as if she had just claimed something she always knew was hers.

“I…”

"Big girls know where they feel everything. I thought you were a big girl, Y/n." she arches an eyebrow, provocative.

"I am!" You shout, frustrated.

"Then prove it." Her voice is dark and husky, making the pulse between your legs increase tenfold.

No one has ever touched you down there, thinking about it always made you so nervous. Wanda seems to know this—however, your inexperience seems to please the woman.

With trembling hands, you take her hand—perfectly manicured with red nails, dragging it down below the navel, resting it on top of your panties.

“Oh, sweetheart…” her voice comes out trembling. Wanda presses her fingers to you, making your hips jerk and a high-pitched and needy moan escape. “You’re so beautiful…” she murmurs as if it’s the simplest and most obvious thing in the world.

“It… hurts.” whining, you try to move your hips toward her again, offering yourself.

“Do you want Wanda to make it go away?” hearing the woman refer to herself in the third person is strange, you frown, but you nod. “Words.”

“Yes.”

The woman stops all of her stimuli suddenly, making you protest.

“Yes, what?” she prompts something you don’t understand, so she starts moving her hand up to your neck—squeezing, squeezing and squeezing.

“Yes, Wanda…?” the sentence comes out muffled with a hint of insecurity.

Wanda huffs, leaving you confused. What does she want?

She loosens her grip and backs away a bit.

“How about this?” her hands squeeze your hips and rub against the bottom of your stomach, as she makes you straddle her; pulling your body against hers in a way that creates exhilarating pressure on your pleasure point.

A dragging and needy moan escapes your throat.

"Oh, is that good?" Wanda laughs, as you nod weakly.

The dress you wear starts to bunch up around your waist. Wanda's gaze is lost, as if she’s thinking about many things at the same time.

"You’d look lovely in my clothes, kitten." she moans.

Wanda slides her fingers inside your pussy, not deep enough to break your hymen, but to explore.

“Are you getting close, dear?” without thinking, you nod.

She extends one hand to toy with your hard nipples.

"My beautiful girl..." she moans.

Wanda pulls you harder against her. Your sex is so wet, the lewd and sticky sound is audible, while she beams brightly at you.

"Do you hear that? Hear the mess you’re making on my hand?" She taunts, her fingers moving in slow circles, pushing you to the edge.

“I’m going to cum!” you whimper to her with glassy eyes.

“Are you going to make a huge mess on Mommy’s lap?” she was as desperate as you were—dark and wild eyes.

The woman grips your hips even tighter, pressing you against her even faster.

“It’s okay, little girl. I’m here for you!” exploding against her a few seconds later, you let out a loud, high-pitched, irregular cry of pleasure.

Babbling helplessly, fixing your eyes on the sea green of hers, you let her guide you.

“There she is! There’s my pretty girl…” she says, sniffing your skin.

You’ve never felt like this.

Not sure if it was the peak of edging, the constant arousal, or Wanda’s extremely sexy and dominant overall presence. But that orgasm was the most incredible thing you’ve ever experienced.

Wanda pulls you close to her, kissing the top of your head, soothing you, giving you all the time you need to return to yourself. Whispering quiet words of reassurance, and gently caressing your pussy, inducing your aftershock tremors post-orgasm.

“Thank you…”

She laughs softly, combing your hair back from your damp forehead with her fingers. She gives you a kiss, smiling as she sees you trying to caress her shakily.

You cuddle against Wanda, her scent enveloping you like a blanket that warms and calms. Her breathing is steady, a tranquil beat in contrast to the internal turmoil you feel. Your mind is a whirlwind, trying to process everything that happened, but your body seems to have other ideas, sinking deeper into that moment of comfort and surrender.

“Why…” you begin, your voice sounding fragile, hesitant. “Why do I feel like this around you?”

Wanda tilts her head, her green eyes glowing with something you can’t completely decipher. There’s a trace of tenderness, but also something deeper, something that seems almost possessive.

“Like what?” she asks softly, her fingers still stroking your hair.

“Relaxed…” you confess, swallowing hard as you try to find the right words. “As if… as if nothing else matters. As if I can just… let go of everything.”

She smiles, a small smile but full of meaning. “Because you trust me,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And because I make you feel safe, don’t I, my sweet little girl?”

You blush, her words hitting something deep inside you. It’s true. There’s something about Wanda — the way she looks at you, touches you, guides you — that makes all your barriers fall, as if you can finally be yourself without fear of judgment or rejection. But that leaves you vulnerable, and that vulnerability scares you as much as it comforts you.

“It’s… strange,” you admit, lowering your gaze. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“There’s nothing strange about it,” Wanda responds, her voice firm but gentle. “You’ve never had someone take care of you like this before, have you?”

You shake your head slowly, feeling tears threatening to form. She’s right. All your life, you’ve built walls around yourself, keeping others at a distance, believing that independence was your only option. But with Wanda, those walls no longer seem necessary.

She leans in and kisses your forehead, a gesture so gentle it makes your heart ache. “You don’t need to worry, darling. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

Her words resonate within you, like a promise that seems impossible to break. You look at her, your eyes meeting, and for the first time you feel like you can truly believe it.

“Come on,” Wanda says after a moment, stroking your cheek. “I made a strawberry pie, and I want you to try it while it’s still fresh.”

She helps you up, guiding you to the kitchen as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And somehow, in her presence, everything really does feel easier, lighter. As though, for the first time, you’re not alone in the world.

Wanda is seated across from you, with a generous slice of strawberry pie balanced on a pristine plate. Her eyes sparkle with joy, and you notice a mischievous smile forming on her lips.

“Now, open up, little girl,” she says, holding a spoonful of the pie right in front of you.

You blink, blushing immediately. “I can feed myself, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Wanda replies, her voice sweet but with a clear tone of amusement. “But where’s the fun in that? Come on, don’t be shy.”

You hesitate, feeling the blush rise even more in your cheeks. But before you can protest again, Wanda tilts the spoon towards your mouth. “Be a good girl,” she murmurs, her eyes playing with an unmistakable gleam.

Sighing, you give in and open your mouth, allowing her to place the spoon inside. The sweetness of the pie explodes on your tongue, and you can’t help but let out a small moan of approval.

“See? I knew you would like it,” Wanda says with a broad smile, but soon the smile turns into a genuine, warm laugh that reverberates through the kitchen.

Hearing that laugh made your heart tighten. It was contagious, and you ended up smiling as well, even as you tried to wipe the corner of your mouth with your hand.

“Okay, your turn,” you said, grabbing her spoon, but before you could reach her, Wanda gently held your wrist.

“Oh, no, dear,” she said, leaning forward. “I said I’m feeding you today. Relax and let me take care of that.”

She dipped the spoon back into the pie and, before you could protest again, was already offering you another spoonful. You shook your head in an exasperated gesture, but obeyed, feeling ridiculously embarrassed and, at the same time, warmed inside.

“I look like a child,” you muttered after swallowing.

“A lovely, sweet, and stubborn child,” Wanda teased, laughing again. “And it pleases me much more than it should. Now, open up again.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed along with her, the tension that always seemed to hover between you momentarily forgotten. For a moment, it was like the world was simple, made only of laughter, strawberry pie, and the strange feeling of being exactly where you should be.

The kitchen was full of relaxed laughter as you and Wanda shared the dessert. The strawberry pie was delicious, but the real sweetness was in the interaction between you two. Wanda, always with that air of control and fun, kept feeding you, insisting on larger spoonfuls despite your protests.

“I swear I’m full!” you said, gently pushing her hand away while laughing. “If I eat more, I will explode like a balloon!”

“Explode? Nonsense,” Wanda replied with a mischievous smile. “You still have space. I’ve barely started.”

“You are impossible,” you muttered, still laughing as you tried to dodge another spoonful. “And if I really explode? Then it will be your fault.”

“If that happens, I will clean up the mess,” Wanda replied casually, but the predatory look suggested something more.

You laughed again, but then Wanda straightened up, looking at the empty plate. She seemed to change her tone suddenly, adopting a more serious air. “Okay, enough pie. Time for you to drink a glass of water and maybe rest some more.

"I want to watch a movie now." You request, with puppy dog eyes. “Not now, dear. Maybe if you behave until evening, I’ll let you choose.” Wanda smiled, getting up, placing the dishes in the sink.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the authoritative tone. “Oh, no, mommy, please!” you said playfully, making a face and stretching your arms dramatically.

The air in the kitchen changed. The earlier lightness was replaced by something denser. Wanda’s eyes darkened, the smile disappearing as she tilted her head slightly as if studying you.

“Say it again,” she demanded, her voice low and laden.

The blush rose instantly on your face. “I was just joking, Wanda,” you began, but the intensity of her gaze made your voice falter.

“Say. It. Again.” She repeated, moving slightly closer, the tone firm but not aggressive. It was a command, not a request.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. There was something in her eyes, a mix of authority and desire that made you dizzy. With a mixture of shyness and hesitation, you murmured: “Mommy…”

The smile that formed on Wanda's face was not the same as before. It was deeper, more laden, as if she had just claimed something she always knew was hers.

"Good girl," she said softly, leaning in to caress your cheek. "Come. Let's pick your movie now." She takes your hands, pulling you both onto the couch—making your eyes shine as you realize the power of that single little word.

During the chosen movie—Disney's Tangled—Wanda's mind began to work. Hearing you say "Mommy," the woman felt something she hadn't expected: a wave of warmth, a sense of completeness that seemed to touch every part of her being. It was as if a piece of the puzzle she didn't even know was missing had perfectly fallen into place. For a brief moment, she paused, as if time had frozen, absorbing the moment with an intensity that nearly took her breath away.

The word echoed in her mind on a loop, like a melody composed exclusively for her. It wasn't just the sound, but what lay behind it: the surrender, the trust, the recognition. A mix of possessiveness and tenderness flooded her. It was more than desire, more than control—it was something primal, a protective instinct that made her chest swell with pride and satisfaction.

Her fingers stroked your cheek almost reverently, while her eyes burned with intensity. "My little girl," she thought, a smile appearing on her lips as she realized the impact she had on you. There was something deliciously addictive about the way you submitted, even without fully understanding just how much you did.

Wanda had always been in control, always the one leading others, but this was different. With you, there was a perfect balance between the dominance she cherished and the sweetness she secretly craved. And now, hearing you call her that... Well, that was the cherry on top.

The sight of you curled up against her, like a baby seeking maternal warmth, drove her wild. It made her want more and more of you. Seeing you so unaware of her thoughts—your gentle eyes focused on the screen, captivated by the animation's events, so sweet. You resembled a little lamb—so soft and affectionate—that in two days is taking its graceful leaps; in two weeks is playing 'follow the leader.' Your frailty was part of your charm. A lamb is pure innocence, so innocent that people want to possess it or even devour it. People like Wanda...

She inhaled the scent of your hair deeply, feeling the strength of her emotions, while a certainty formed in her mind. You were not just someone under her control—you were hers, and she would do whatever it took to ensure that never changed.

~*~

Be a good girl, Y/n... Wanda's watching

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solxamber · 3 months ago

Text

Tides of Affection - Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

You've chosen Azul!

Falling for Azul is gradual, yet natural, just like the ebb and flow of currents.

Prologue ; 1k Masterlist

You hold your phone for a moment, mentally preparing yourself for the call. After a lot of back and forth in your mind, you’ve finally decided to accept Azul’s date invitation. As much as you tried to play it cool, the thought of an exclusive dinner at Mostro Lounge had been lingering in your head all week.

The phone rings once, and you hear a professional but familiar voice. "This is Azul—"

"I’ll go on the date with you."

A loud crash echoes from the other end, followed by a distinct, undignified yelp. You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the laugh that’s bubbling up. There’s a beat of awkward silence, then a very obvious sound of someone—likely Azul—scrambling to recover his composure.

"I-I mean, excellent! Yes, that sounds... wonderful," he continues, trying to adopt his usual smooth tone but failing miserably. You can almost see him pushing his glasses up, his face pink as he adds, "I'll pick you up tonight. Dress... appropriately."

That night, Azul shows up at Ramshackle looking like he’s spent hours meticulously choosing the perfect outfit. He’s wearing his best suit, his glasses polished to perfection. When you answer the door, he offers you his arm, clearly attempting to channel his inner gentleman.

The two of you walk toward Mostro Lounge in comfortable silence, and when you arrive, you’re stunned. The restaurant is completely empty, save for a beautifully set table in the middle, lit by soft candlelight. It’s a perfect mix of intimate and extravagant.

"Azul... this is amazing," you say, genuinely impressed.

Azul’s face lights up at your praise. "I’m glad you approve. I wanted tonight to be... memorable."

Before you can reply, Floyd suddenly appears out of nowhere, and your eyes widen. He's wearing his usual Mostro Lounge uniform but with a huge, fake mustache taped to his face. He walks over to the table, arms outstretched, and starts speaking in the worst French accent you’ve ever heard.

“Bonsoooiiiir, mes amiiiis!” Floyd exclaims, throwing in some exaggerated hand gestures for good measure. “Tonight, I will be your serrrrveur extraordinaire! What shall I bring ze beautiful couple to eet?"

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting out laughing, while Azul’s face looks like it’s seconds away from bursting into flames. He’s frantically signaling something to the side, mouthing at Floyd to cut it out.

Floyd, of course, ignores this entirely and leans in close, waggling his fake mustache. “Perhaps ze... escargot? Or ze finest lobstah?”

Azul is about five seconds from collapsing into the floor when Jade appears, ever the picture of calm, and gently steers Floyd away. “Floyd, I believe your expertise is required in the kitchen.”

Floyd whines loudly. “Awww, c’mon! I wanna see Azul embarrass himself! It’s funny watching him mess up in front of his little date!”

“I’m sure you’ll find another way to entertain yourself,” Jade says, completely unfazed, as he firmly guides his twin back into the kitchen.

Azul looks like he’s dying inside. “I deeply apologize for that,” he mutters, mortified beyond belief.

You can't help but laugh. “Honestly? I think it was hilarious. Floyd's got... quite the talent for making things interesting.”

Azul lets out a long, exhausted sigh, shaking his head. “Interesting is one way to put it.”

He reaches for his glass of water, but his hand is visibly trembling, and when he takes a sip, some of it dribbles down the side of the glass. You can’t help but notice how tense he is, his shoulders drawn tight and his eyes darting nervously between you and the table. It’s honestly... kind of adorable.

Feeling bold, you reach across the table and take his hand gently in yours.

Azul freezes, eyes widening in shock.

“You don’t need to be so nervous,” you say softly, giving his hand a light squeeze. “I’m here because I like you, Azul. You don’t need to impress me—I’m already impressed.”

Azul’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and when he finally speaks, his voice cracks. “You... you like me?”

Your expression softens. “Yeah, Azul. I do.”

He blinks, the gears in his head turning like he can’t quite process what you’re saying. Then, slowly, his body relaxes. His shoulders drop, his grip on your hand becomes less stiff, and though his face is still flushed, he gives you a small, genuine smile.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, the tension in his voice fading. “That... means more to me than you know.”

From that point on, the conversation flows more easily. You find yourselves chatting about your day, and you regale Azul with the latest disaster involving Sebek, Ace, and Deuce.

“So Sebek gets into this huge argument with Ace over who can jump higher, right? But in the middle of it, Deuce trips over a bucket and knocks down this entire stack of potions—"

Azul’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh no...”

“Oh yeah,” you continue, grinning. “There were explosions everywhere. Sebek’s hair turned bright purple, Ace got covered in glitter, and Deuce? He’s been sneezing feathers for hours.”

Azul shakes his head, exasperated but clearly amused. “Your group is nothing if not... unpredictable.”

“You’re telling me. Poor Crewel had to ban us from the alchemy lab for the rest of the week.”

You both share a laugh, and by the time the food arrives—delivered by a very professional-looking Jade—the mood has lightened considerably. The food, as expected, is incredible, and you find yourself thoroughly enjoying the rest of the evening.

When the meal is done, Azul insists on walking you back to Ramshackle. The night air is cool and crisp, and there’s a comfortable silence between you as the two of you stroll back through the grounds.

As you reach the doorstep, Azul hesitates, looking like he wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. Before he can overthink it, you take his hand, raise it to your lips, and press a soft kiss to his knuckles.

Azul’s reaction is instantaneous. His entire body goes rigid, his face turning a deep shade of red. He stares at you like he’s short-circuiting, and for a moment, you genuinely wonder if you’ve broken him.

“G-Goodnight!” he squeaks, his voice a full octave higher than usual. Then, without warning, he practically flees from the scene, leaving you standing there, thoroughly amused.

You watch him disappear into the distance, shaking your head fondly. There’s no denying it—tonight was an absolute success.

It’s a typical PE day, which, for you, means sitting on the sidelines watching your classmates either struggle or excel at flying lessons. As someone with no magic, you’ve been mercifully excused from the torment of broom flying, so instead, you get to watch the chaos unfold.

Vargas is barking encouragement at the students, his voice booming across the field. "Come on, put your back into it! Fly like your life depends on it!"

You casually lean back, eyes scanning the group. Some are soaring confidently through the air like they've been born on a broomstick, while others—well, others are just... Azul.

You spot him hovering about an inch off the ground, his hands gripping the broom with the intensity of someone holding onto a cliff’s edge for dear life. His face is pale, and there's an unmistakable look of pure existential dread in his eyes.

"He's going to fall," you mutter under your breath.

Sure enough, his body wobbles, and he teeters dangerously to one side. Without thinking, you bolt across the field, reaching him just as his broom starts to tip. Your hands find their way to his waist, steadying him before disaster strikes.

Azul nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden contact. “W-what are you—"

“You were about to fall,” you say, shooting him a quick grin as you hold him in place.

Azul’s entire body trembles under your touch, and his usual calm façade cracks as he struggles to keep himself from spontaneously combusting. His grip on the broom tightens as he attempts to regain some sense of balance.

From behind you, Grim, who's been lounging nearby, rolls his eyes dramatically. “Seriously? He’s like a centimeter off the ground. He’s not gonna die if he falls.”

You shoot Grim a look but can’t help the snicker that escapes. “Better safe than sorry, right?”

Floyd, who’s been casually observing the scene from a distance, bursts into laughter. “Oh man, Shrimpy’s out here saving Azul from the ground! Classic!”

Jade, ever the composed twin, nods in agreement, though there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Quite the heroic rescue, I must say.”

You stick your tongue out at them, ignoring their teasing as you turn your attention back to Azul. “You okay?”

He nods, though the pink flush creeping up his neck says otherwise. “I-I’m fine,” he stammers, clearly out of his element.

From Azul’s perspective, however, things are much more dire. He's not just being saved from an embarrassing fall—he's certain that he’s staring into the face of an angel. You haven’t taken your hands off his waist yet, and his mind is racing with the realization.

There are literal sparkles around you, he’s sure of it. His thoughts scatter in a million directions as he tries, and fails, to focus on anything other than the warmth of your hands still holding him steady.

Why are they still holding me like this? Do I smell like fish? No, wait, I don’t! Is this what people feel like before they combust?

Then, just as suddenly as you grabbed him, you pull your hands away, and Azul feels the loss immediately.

“Thanks,” he manages to choke out, though it comes out sounding more like a croak than anything remotely suave.

“You sure you're alright?” You eye him for a moment longer, clearly amused by his frazzled state.

Azul straightens his glasses, desperately trying to regain his composure. “Yes... perfectly fine. Though I believe I owe you for the timely intervention,” he says, his voice steadying with every word. “Perhaps another dinner, to... properly thank you?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Azul, are you asking me out on another date?”

He clears his throat, suddenly very focused on a non-existent speck of dust on his broom. “I—I suppose that’s one way to phrase it, yes.”

You smile, clearly amused. “Alright, I accept. But only because I saved you from a one-centimeter fall.”

Azul blushes furiously at that, but he nods. “Of course. You’re a true hero.”

As you walk back to your spot on the sidelines, Floyd and Jade exchange a look, clearly holding back more laughter.

“Man, Azul’s gonna lose his mind if this keeps up,” Floyd says, grinning ear to ear.

“Indeed,” Jade replies smoothly. “It seems they’ve found the perfect way to keep him grounded.”

It’s a relatively normal day at Night Raven College—by normal, of course, it means you’re trying to prevent Ramshackle from falling apart at the seams for the fifteenth time that week. You’re in the kitchen, battling yet another suspiciously leaky faucet when your phone buzzes with a message. Azul.

Your heart flutters, but then a mild sense of concern settles in—Azul doesn’t usually text you unless it’s something important. Maybe another business proposal? An invitation to the Mostro Lounge to try his latest ‘limited time’ seafood special? But no, when you open the message, it’s short and strange: "Be ready by 5 PM. Dress warm. See you soon."

Uh… What?

Now, Azul isn’t exactly the type to do spontaneous things, so this throws you off completely. But, intrigued and with no pressing emergencies (for now), you throw on a warm jacket, scarf, and gloves, wondering what he has planned.

Is it another attempt to woo you with his business acumen? A surprise study session? You’re equal parts curious and worried about what sort of ordeal this could lead to.

By 5 PM, you’re waiting outside, pacing in front of the creaky Ramshackle door when, sure enough, Azul arrives. He’s looking incredibly out of his element—wrapped up in an enormous winter coat, cheeks pink from the cold, a thick woolen scarf around his neck, and glasses fogging up slightly from his breath. Honestly, he looks like he’s just walked into a freezing wilderness.

"Azul, are we... going on an arctic expedition or something?" you tease, but you’re already grinning at how adorably overdressed he is for the mild chill.

Azul clears his throat, looking a bit embarrassed as he pushes his glasses up. “No, nothing of the sort. I merely wished to—ah—show you something. Follow me.”

Now you’re even more intrigued. "Okay, but if this turns into a surprise business venture, I reserve the right to mock you for the rest of time," you warn playfully, falling in step beside him as he leads you out of the Ramshackle courtyard and down the campus path.

As you walk, the usual hustle and bustle of the school fades into the background. It's quiet, and you notice that Azul keeps glancing at you like he’s checking to see if you’re still there, as though he’s afraid you’ll vanish into thin air.

Eventually, you reach the outskirts of campus where a small forest lies ahead. Azul stops and turns toward you with an almost... nervous look.

"I wanted to take you somewhere that I rarely show others," he admits, avoiding your eyes as he fidgets with the edge of his scarf. "It’s... personal."

You tilt your head, heart already beating a little faster at the way he’s looking so serious and vulnerable. This isn’t the Azul that deals in contracts and meticulous plans. This is Azul without the safety net.

"Personal?" you ask, softening your tone. "Lead the way."

The two of you trek through the trees, and you can’t help but notice how ridiculously over-prepared Azul seems for this—he’s walking carefully, as if he's bracing for quicksand, making sure not to slip on any imaginary hazards. It’s both sweet and hilarious at the same time.

Finally, after what feels like a mini hike, you break through a clearing, and your breath catches in your throat.

You’re standing at the edge of a frozen lake, its surface glimmering under the evening sky. Lanterns are strung along the trees surrounding the lake, casting a warm glow over the ice. There’s even a small blanket laid out with a thermos of what smells like hot cocoa, and a pair of ice skates placed neatly at the edge of the blanket.

Your eyes widen in disbelief. "Wait... are we—are we going ice skating?"

Azul, now looking a little sheepish, nods, refusing to meet your gaze. "I... thought it might be enjoyable," he says, his voice quieter than usual. "I know it’s not something I’d typically do, but I—well, I wanted to do something special for you."

Your heart practically melts on the spot. Azul is definitely not the ‘outdoorsy’ type, let alone someone who’d voluntarily ice skate. Yet, here he is, dragging himself far out of his comfort zone just to plan something this sweet.

He nervously adds, "I’ll admit, I’m not... terribly skilled at this activity. But I’ve—uh—practiced."

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing at how ridiculously cute and nervous he sounds, though the image of Azul trying to practice ice skating in secret is now firmly lodged in your brain. "You did all of this for me?" you ask, warmth spreading through your chest.

Azul nods, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "I... wanted to show my appreciation. You’ve done a lot for me, and I thought... maybe this would be a pleasant way to repay you."

Your grin is unstoppable at this point. You don’t even care that it’s freezing or that you’ve never been the best skater. The fact that Azul has gone to this much trouble for you? You’re already swooning.

"Azul, this is..." You don’t know how to express how touched you are, so instead, you grab the skates and immediately start putting them on. "Come on, let’s skate!"

Azul seems startled by your enthusiasm but follows suit, albeit much more carefully. You can already tell he’s bracing for disaster as he edges toward the ice like he’s about to step onto a minefield.

The second he sets foot on the ice, you see why he’s so nervous. His legs immediately start wobbling like a newborn giraffe, and you barely suppress a giggle as he clutches at your arm for dear life.

"I-I told you I wasn’t very good at this," he mumbles, his face turning a bright shade of pink.

"It’s okay, I’ve got you," you reassure him, though the effort it takes not to laugh is almost painful. "Just hold onto me."

Together, you manage a few laps around the lake, though Azul’s feet continue to betray him, slipping and sliding more often than not. Every time he stumbles, you’re right there to steady him, which only seems to make him more flustered.

But the more you skate together, the more comfortable he becomes. And at some point, when he’s finally not wobbling like a newborn calf, you realize just how thoughtful and genuine his effort is. He did this for you.

By the time you’re sitting together on the blanket, sipping the hot cocoa, you’re grinning like an idiot, completely smitten. Azul is still embarrassed, probably replaying every awkward moment on the ice in his head, but you’re too busy falling for him to care.

"I can’t believe you did all of this," you murmur, leaning your head against his shoulder.

Azul swallows, his ears turning red, but he smiles shyly. "I’m glad you enjoyed it."

You glance up at him, and in that moment, you know you’ve completely fallen. Because here is Azul—stoic, business-minded Azul—going out of his way to make you smile, even if it means doing something as foreign to him as ice skating.

"I did," you say softly, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "More than you know."

The pipe in Ramshackle bursts with a violent hiss, and before you know it, water is everywhere—gushing from the ceiling, flooding the floor, and turning your already dilapidated home into a mini waterpark.

You’re ankle-deep in the chaos, trying desperately to block the spray with your hands like that’s going to do anything. Grim is perched on your shoulder, equally panicking but trying to maintain his usual bravado.

"Hey! Do somethin' before we drown, hench-human!" Grim barks, his little paws flailing as he attempts to swipe at the water like it’s something he can defeat with a few swats.

"I'm trying!" you shout back, grabbing a bucket and using it to… well, collect more water? Honestly, you’re not even sure what you’re doing at this point. The pipe is making noises like it’s laughing at your efforts, and you feel a wave of frustration welling up in your chest.

Just then, your phone rings, startling both you and Grim.

"Not now, Grim!" you yell, struggling to balance him while your other hand is busy with an already overflowing bucket.

"Uh, it's not me, hench-human!" Grim snaps, poking the phone with his tail until you fumble it into your hand.

You glance at the screen, only to see Azul calling you. Oh no, this is not how you imagined the day would go.

"Azul?" you answer, already sounding defeated. You don’t even get the chance to properly greet him before he’s asking, all smooth and casual, “Are you free for dinner tonight?”

And that’s when you lose it.

"Azul!" you practically sob into the phone. “Ramshackle is flooded! The kitchen’s drowning, Grim’s trying to help but he has paws, and I’m pretty sure I'm going to skewer Crowley when I see him next!”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end as you try not to full-on cry about the soggy state of your life.

Azul’s voice, calm as ever, replies, “Stay right there. I’ll take care of it.”

You barely have time to process his words when, not even 15 minutes later, there’s a knock at your door. You slosh through the water to answer it, only to find a team of professional-looking people standing there with equipment in hand.

"We’re here to fix your plumbing," one of them says, as if this is a perfectly normal emergency call on a late evening.

"What the—?" You step back, utterly baffled as they walk in like a squad of elite disaster-rescue plumbers. They immediately get to work, assessing the damage and patching up the burst pipe like it’s nothing more than a leaky faucet.

You stand there, shell-shocked, as they not only fix the pipe but also take a moment to reinforce some of the more concerning areas of Ramshackle.

Azul appears behind them, watching everything with a critical eye. He’s dressed as impeccably as ever, looking completely unbothered by the soggy mess you’re in the middle of.

“You…” you blink at him, at a loss for words. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Azul gives a small, graceful wave of his hand, like it’s no big deal. “It was the least I could do. I couldn’t very well let you stay in a house that was falling apart, could I?”

Overwhelmed by the gesture, you do the first thing that comes to mind. You hug him. You throw your arms around him and squeeze, feeling genuinely touched by how thoughtful he’s been.

Azul freezes, completely stiff in your embrace, his hands hovering awkwardly as though he’s forgotten how to function as a human being. But after a beat, he tentatively wraps his arms around you, his grip a little unsure, but warm nonetheless.

When you pull back, his cheeks are tinged pink, and he’s not quite meeting your eyes. “I-I hope the repairs were to your satisfaction.”

"They were more than that," you say, giving him a bright smile. “Thank you.”

With the pipe situation under control and Ramshackle’s kitchen looking more presentable than it’s ever been, you realize it’s far too late for the romantic dinner at Mostro Lounge. But there’s a solution for that.

“How about we get some fast food and watch a movie instead?” you suggest, figuring a more casual date would be the perfect end to this bizarre evening.

Azul, still looking mildly flustered from the hug, agrees. “That… sounds lovely.”

You both settle down on the couch with a pile of fast food, picking a movie to watch together. Azul, despite his earlier composure, is tense beside you—staring at the screen but clearly not paying any attention to what’s happening in the movie.

You try not to laugh at how rigid he is, and after a while, you give up on subtlety entirely. Casually, you wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into your side as you lean back against the couch.

His entire body tenses, but he doesn’t resist, instead leaning into you. His head rests lightly against your shoulder, and though you can feel him fidget every few minutes, he gradually relaxes.

You spend the rest of the evening like that, the warmth of the moment making the movie’s plot irrelevant.

The next morning, you wake up, still curled up on the couch with Azul half-draped across you, his head resting comfortably against your chest. You blink groggily at the morning light filtering through the window, then glance down at him.

Azul stirs, waking up and blinking in confusion before realizing the compromising position he’s in. His face goes crimson almost instantly, and he sits up way too fast, nearly knocking himself off the couch.

“I-I—” he starts, trying to find the words while adjusting his glasses, but he’s clearly too flustered to form a coherent sentence.

You, on the other hand, just grin at him, completely at ease. “I’d love to do this again,” you say, voice soft but sincere.

Azul freezes again, staring at you for a moment before a bashful smile slowly creeps onto his face. “I… I would like that too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

And just like that, the two of you sit there, grinning at each other like lovestruck idiots, the events of the previous night already becoming a sweet memory you’ll both cherish.

It’s a sight to behold: Azul in his element, operating at full power, and you get to witness it firsthand. You’re sitting at one of the booths in the Mostro Lounge, ostensibly there to “visit” but really, you’re here to watch him work. And wow, does he work.

Azul is currently handling a group of students who are clearly way in over their heads, trying to negotiate terms for a favor.

The air is thick with desperation—and that’s just from the students. You watch, entranced, as he slips into full businessman mode, his smile sharp enough to cut through steel.

The poor students don’t stand a chance.

“So, gentlemen, if you sign this contract, I can guarantee that all of your, shall we say, academic concerns will be resolved by the end of the week.” Azul slides the contract across the table with a flourish. His voice is smooth, the kind that lures you in before you realize you’re already caught.

You’re impressed by how easily he manipulates the situation—he’s making them feel like they’re getting the best deal of their lives, but you know better. This is Azul. The house always wins.

One of the students glances at the contract and hesitates. “Uh, are you sure there aren’t any... you know... hidden clauses?”

Azul’s grin widens, eyes gleaming behind his glasses. “Hidden clauses? Why, I’m hurt you would even suggest such a thing.” He places a hand over his heart, like he’s truly wounded. “I run a perfectly legitimate business, I assure you. The terms are all there in black and white.”

You bite back a laugh, watching the students squirm under his gaze. It’s like watching a master at work, and you can't help but admire the way he plays this game so effortlessly. Even when they’re suspicious, he has them eating out of the palm of his hand within seconds.

Azul doesn’t just thrive in this environment—he owns it.

Suddenly, Floyd sidles up next to you, leaning in with a mischievous grin. “You’re drooling, you know.”

You roll your eyes. “Am not.”

“Are too~!” Floyd sing-songs, clearly enjoying your flustered expression. “But I get it. Watching Azul reel in his prey is like watching one of those nature documentaries—where the shark’s about to take down a baby seal. Brutal, but you can’t look away.”

You elbow him lightly. “You make it sound so predatory.”

Floyd just laughs. “Because it is. You’re watching Azul, right? Same thing.”

Across the room, Azul is wrapping up the deal. The students, clearly defeated, sign the contract with trembling hands. Azul’s smile never falters. “Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen. I look forward to seeing how your grades improve.”

They leave, looking like they’ve just sold their souls. Which, knowing Azul, might actually be the case. As soon as they’re out of sight, Azul turns and catches your gaze, his expression instantly softening.

Gone is the sharp businessman—now, he’s just Azul again. He walks over to you, adjusting his glasses with that trademark confidence.

“Well, how did I do?” he asks, though you can tell from the way he’s standing that he already knows the answer.

“Terrifying, as usual,” you reply, giving him an amused grin. “I think you might have scared them into improving their grades out of sheer survival instinct.”

Azul chuckles, sitting down beside you. “I prefer to think of it as... motivation. It’s important to give people a little push every now and then.”

Floyd, still lingering nearby, snickers. “A push, he says. More like you shoved them off a cliff and waved goodbye.”

Azul shoots Floyd a warning glance. “And you’re supposed to be working, not lurking.”

Floyd shrugs. “I’m watching you work. That counts.”

Azul sighs but doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he turns his attention back to you. “So? What do you think of my... business?”

“I think it’s impressive,” you admit, leaning forward slightly. “And also a little scary how easily you do this.”

Azul’s smile turns a bit sheepish, which is honestly adorable considering how confident he was just moments ago. “I just know how to handle people. It’s all about finding their... weak points and using them to negotiate.”

“Yeah, you’re a real charmer,” you tease. “But don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re a bit of a softie when it comes to me.”

Azul’s face flushes a light shade of pink, and he quickly adjusts his glasses again, clearly flustered. “Well, that’s... different. You’re—special.”

Floyd, ever the instigator, snorts. “Special, huh? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Floyd, out,” Azul mutters through gritted teeth, but you can’t help but laugh. The banter, the contrast between business-mode Azul and flustered, bashful Azul—it’s all incredibly endearing.

You lean back, still watching him, completely entranced by the way he balances his ruthless efficiency with these softer moments. He’s a force to be reckoned with, both in business and... well, with you. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’re helping Sam with a delivery of books, stacking them in your arms and heading down the hallway like some kind of overly burdened delivery person.

It’s just your luck that today of all days, the stack of books you’re carrying makes it impossible to see ahead of you. But you’re used to this. After all, navigating life at this chaotic academy means half of it is spent balancing things you probably shouldn’t be holding while dodging all sorts of absurd situations.

You’re about to drop off the books at an empty classroom, or so you think. You shove open the door, barely catching a glimpse of something—or someone—just before you crash right into them.

There’s a moment of complete, cartoonish chaos as you both lose balance. The next thing you know, you’re flat on your back, books scattered everywhere, and the weight of someone is suddenly pinning you to the floor.

“Wh—” You’re about to shout something half-baked like "What the heck?" when you hear a choked gasp from above you.

You look up—and to your horror, you see Azul standing just outside the classroom door. His face is twisted into an expression so heartbroken, so dramatically devastated, that it looks like he’s witnessing the betrayal of the century.

Oh no.

You quickly realize how this must look: a mysterious person on top of you, you flat on the floor, books scattered everywhere. If this were one of those tragic romance novels Azul undoubtedly reads in secret, this would be the scene right before the misunderstood breakup.

Azul’s face is pale, his eyes wide behind his glasses, and you swear you can see the exact moment his heart shatters into tiny, irreparable pieces.

He opens his mouth, probably to say something cutting or deeply tragic, but instead, all that comes out is a strangled sound, and he abruptly turns on his heel, bolting down the hallway at a speed you didn’t even know he was capable of.

"Azul! Wait!" You panic, shoving the poor soul on top of you off with a quick, distracted apology. You barely hear them stammer out a confused “s-sorry” before you’re sprinting down the hall, books and all common sense abandoned in favor of chasing after Azul.

How is he so fast?! You didn’t know his legs could move this quickly, considering how calculated and leisurely his movements usually are. You half expect him to trip on his own dignity, but no, he’s moving like he’s being chased by a kraken.

“Azul!” You yell again, heart pounding as you finally manage to catch up to him. You grab his wrist and yank him into the nearest room, which, as luck would have it, is the tiniest broom closet you’ve ever seen.

The door slams shut behind you, plunging both of you into a cramped, dust-smelling room. The only sounds are the awkward shuffling of brooms and the frantic thudding of your heart.

Azul is rigid, avoiding your gaze like the floor is the most interesting thing in existence. His face is still a mess of hurt and confusion, and you’re absolutely not about to let him spiral into a misunderstanding-fueled melodrama.

“Azul.” You don’t give him time to wallow in whatever tragic narrative he’s cooked up in his head. You’re done with misunderstandings.

You have enough stress dealing with Crowley, and everything else in this cursed place and you're pretty sure that your life expectancy has halved since you came here—you’re not about to waste your remaining time on needless drama.

Without another word, you close the distance between you and kiss him. Hard.

Azul freezes for a moment, completely caught off guard, but then, just as desperately, he kisses you back. It’s clumsy and a little messy in the cramped space, but there’s no mistaking the way his hands cling to you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

When you finally pull back for air, both of you are breathless, and Azul looks like his entire world has been flipped upside down. “W-What was that?” he asks, voice shaky.

“That,” you say, still catching your breath, “was to stop you from jumping to conclusions.”

Azul blinks at you, clearly still processing everything, so you take the opportunity to explain what happened. “I was just delivering some books, I swear! I crashed into someone by accident, and they fell on top of me. That’s it. Nothing else. I was about to say sorry when you walked in.”

The tension in his shoulders visibly melts away, and his usual composed expression begins to return. Relief floods his features, and he even lets out a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle. “I… I see. I suppose I was being a bit… hasty in my assumptions.”

You raise an eyebrow. “A bit?”

“Alright, perhaps more than a bit,” he admits, looking slightly sheepish now. He pushes his glasses up his nose, his face still a bit flushed from the kiss. “I’m sorry for running away like that.”

You smile, feeling your heart lighten. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“I won’t,” Azul promises, and then, as if remembering something, he clears his throat awkwardly. “So… um… does this mean…?”

You grin at him, already knowing what he’s about to ask. “Azul, I want you to be mine.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like he might pass out from sheer emotional overload. But then, a shy smile tugs at his lips, and he nods. “Only if you’ll be mine, too.”

“Deal.” You lean in and kiss him again, softer this time, but no less passionate. He kisses you back eagerly, his arms wrapping around you in the tight, confined space of the broom closet.

Then, just as you’re fully immersed in the moment, the door creaks open.

You both freeze mid-kiss, turning your heads in unison to see Sam standing there, leaning against the doorframe with a knowing grin on his face.

“Well, well,” he drawls, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So this is where you disappeared to, huh?”

You and Azul are both bright red, scrambling to separate yourselves from each other, but Sam just waves a hand casually. “Don’t mind me. Carry on, lovebirds.” He winks, giving you a conspiratorial look before closing the door behind him.

You’re left standing there, dumbfounded and flustered, while Azul stares at the now-closed door like he’s questioning every life choice that led to this moment.

“Well… that happened,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck.

Azul lets out a soft groan, burying his face in his hands. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

You laugh, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer. “Hey, at least we’re in this together, right?”

He peeks at you from between his fingers, and after a moment, he smiles, leaning into your embrace. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

The rumors have spread like wildfire. You and Azul—caught making out in a broom closet. Seriously? Of all the places! And you're pretty sure it's that guy who crashed into you earlier, seeking some petty revenge for toppling over you like a stack of books.

The first person to bring it up? Ace, of course.

“So, broom closet, huh? I always knew you were bold, but that’s next level!” he grins, nudging Deuce, who’s already fighting back laughter. Deuce tries to stay composed but fails miserably, snickering. “Dude, a broom closet?”

Azul, standing beside you, looks like he’s two seconds away from melting into a puddle. His face is redder than Riddle on an off day. “I… I don’t… this is...—"

Before he can finish, Floyd suddenly appears, draping his arm over your shoulder. “Whaaat? You didn’t invite me to the show? How rude!” His grin is practically splitting his face. “Azul, you dog! In a closet, huh?”

Jade, always the calm instigator, steps in, his expression innocent but his tone wicked. “How bold of you, Azul. One might expect a more... sophisticated venue, but I suppose a broom closet has its own appeal.”

Azul’s hands are trembling by now, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. He looks like he’s weighing the pros and cons of teleporting to another dimension. Meanwhile, you’re basking in the chaos. If they think they can make you flinch, they’re sorely mistaken.

“Oh, come on, guys,” you say with a smirk, wrapping an arm around Azul’s shoulders. “I mean, look at him. Who wouldn’t want a piece of this? I’d like to see you do better.”

Azul squeaks at your boldness, his body going rigid beside you, but you just give him a reassuring squeeze. “They’re just jealous. Right, dear?”

Ace nearly chokes on his own laughter. “Jealous? Of a broom closet make-out sesh? Sure, we all dream of that kind of luxury.”

Floyd, still howling, points a finger at Azul, “I never thought I’d see the day where you’d make the headlines for this.”

Azul buries his face in his hands. “This is… I can’t… Floyd, please stop.”

Jade chimes in, “I believe this is the first time I’ve seen you so… exposed, Azul.”

You shrug, completely unfazed. “What can I say? We’re just out here, living our best lives, making out in closets.” You give them all a casual salute. “Catch you later, losers!”

Grim, who's been sitting on your shoulder the whole time, pipes up, “I approve! Azul’s rich, and my henchhuman is happy, so I get premium tuna. Everybody wins!”

The teasing? Relentless. But you just wink at Azul and squeeze his hand before pulling him out of the mess. “C’mon, let’s leave these losers behind. They can’t handle us.”

As you walk away, hand in hand, Azul finally finds his voice, though it’s barely above a whisper. “I... I didn’t know you could turn something so mortifying into... whatever that was.”

You grin. “Stick with me, Azul. We’ll be the power couple everyone wishes they were.”

Azul, though still red-faced, can’t help but chuckle under his breath, squeezing your hand just a little tighter as the two of you stroll away, leaving the chaos—and the teasing—far behind.

1k Masterlist ; Main Masterlist

I had to edit this in a hurry because I was convinced Jamil was gonna win till Azul swept in the last few hours

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto x you #azul ashengrotto #azul x you #azul #twst azul x reader #twst azul #twst azul x you #1k event

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kissitbttr · 4 months ago

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small prologue from frat!sukuna

*gojo finally has you!*

gojo satoru is a man with many things.

he’s rich, handsome, smart, popular. a number one heartthrob on campus and he’s enjoying every second of it.

and you’d think that a man who has it all wouldn’t be seen asking for more. because what could’ve he wanted more than what he has now?

well,

he wants you.

“i don’t understand why you keep resisting me. why do you keep thinking about him?! i can treat you better!”

gojo is in fact very much stubborn. soon as he heard what sukuna has done to you, he can’t stay silent any longer. he needs to save you. he needs to see you. he needs to hold and kiss you.

he needs you. period.

so he confesses everything. the bottled up feelings he has over the last few months. the only problem is that you don’t believe him. and even if you were, what are the chances of gojo is only here to play with your feelings?

but he’s determined to make you think differently,

“gojo you are not thinking straight—“

he scoffs, shaking his head at you being so hard headed. “y/n! for once, i have never been so sure and set for what i have in mind than i am right now! i care about you! i love you, why are you so—argh!”

“he’s your best friend! how could you so easily say all that to me knowing me and him were together at some point?!” you cross your arms, looking up at him with a hard look that he somehow loves.

again, gojo groans, flaring his arms up before bringing them down. “jesus, we still on that?! why is that pink haired mother fucker has you wrapped around his finger while i’m here begging to be wrapped around yours?!”

you stand still. trying your best to not to get his words affects you despite your unusual beating heart says otherwise.

you have never seen gojo satoru so worked up. hands on his hips, eye brows scrunched as if he’s thinking hard on which ass he has to beat

(keyword:sukuna)

“i don’t care if he’s my best friend” he says with a softer tone, pretty blue eyes looking intently into yours. “I don’t care if we’re in the fraternity and how that makes us frat brothers…because I cannot tolerate the fact that he hurt you”

and another thing? you have never seen gojo acts so soft,

so putty… so careful with his words… so..

in love

“the one girl who i have strong feelings for during the time he had you… the only girl who has me feeling excited to wake up each morning and look forward to see every day…the only girl who’s got the guts to call me out on my shit” he takes another step closer to you, and he finds a relief to see you’re not stepping back,

his eyes study your features. each and every single one of it.

you are so damn gorgeous, it is driving gojo insane.

“and i am in love with her” he says it again that night with confidence, his hands move slowly to cup your cheeks and make you look at him. “all i’m asking for is a chance… that’s all”

“tell me what i have to do to make you trust me… that i’m not here to play with your feelings”

speechless. is the only thing you feel right now. you can’t exactly form any sentences because it feels like everything is on halt.

what do you say to your old hookup’s best friend that he’s in love with you? and how do you feel about this?

it’s not that you don’t love him back, in fact? it could be the opposite.

he, among the many friends of sukuna is the only one who always checks up on you. during parties, he’d make sure to keep you hydrated because you don’t drink as much alcohol. he’d make sure to have you eat your meals. he’d make sure that you get home safe after class or your part time job. gojo also makes sure that you receive as much as praises you need for the time you got A on your criminal justice class or won a case,

and he’d be sure to tell you, he’s got a taste of your homemade soft cookies that you made. ispahan is his favorite.

maybe gojo satoru is made for you.

“you are so… dumb and pathetic, satoru” you shakily whisper, though make no attempt to remove his hands from you,

he lets out a small laugh, nodding.

“i can be that, baby” he replies, resting his forehead on yours,

“i can be whatever it is you want me to be as long as i get to call you mine”

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru blurbs #jjk

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suncoved · 7 months ago

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SALTWATER BLUES ! 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂ𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ

the prologue — rafe cameron

pairing; childhoodbestfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: she left him. in that house. in that town. alone. and he's never gonna let her forget it.

series masterlist!

The sun shone through the passenger seat window of your dad's driver, Al's, pristine black Porsche, burning your ear and face while you sat there allowing the pain to simmer.

You made no effort to move as the perfect houses of Figure 8 blended together to make one as your head span with the constant turning of the car. You hummed quietly as Al seemed to be saying many words, none of which made any sense in your current state.

As soon as you got off the plane to the mainland, boarded the ferry to Kildare, and met Al at the dock, it all seemed like a fever dream. A saltwater haze glossed itself over your eyes and mind as if nothing made sense to you anymore.

It was like it was only yesterday that your mom decided she had enough of having the responsibility of taking care of her daughter and was going to ship you off to your dad who hadn't seen you since you were 13, because well it was.

It was only yesterday.

6 years. It had been 6 years since you had been to The Outerbanks. 6 years since you had been to your hometown. 6 years since a certain dirty blonde-haired boy had watched his word slip through his hands like grains of sand through his fingertips.

Rafe Cameron wasn't Rafe Cameron without you. He had simply never known life without you. He hadn't even remembered anything of his life before you, albeit it was less than a year, but he knew. He knew that without you, he was simply a shell of a human being, soulless almost.

Ever since that fateful day that thirteen-year-old rafe had slammed the door to Tannyhill and ran the 20 or so meters to your neighbouring house.

He knocked on the door with the sequence of the secret passcode you both made up when you were six, even though you would never tell him you forgot it the day you made it up. Rafe pulled his balled fist back as the white door opened suddenly like someone was waiting for him.

He didn't understand why your father was at the door, he knew Rafe would also come to your house at this time every day in summer to come play.

"She's not here Rafe" Sincerity was laced in your father's tone as he looked down at the confused boy. "Where is she? I don't understand."

"Gone, kid. I'm sorry."

You were snapped back into consciousness as you heard the crunching of the gravel under the car, your father's home coming into full view in front of you. You knew you were about to draw blood from your bottom lip that you had been gnawing at ever since you arrived.

"Welcome home!"

You stood in the middle of your childhood home's doorframe, slightly jumping when your father popped out from the hallways that led to the lobby, enthusiastically yelling. You glanced around the foyer, bright words written on a banner etching 'Welcome Home!", with balloons and confetti scattered across the floor.

For a split second, you felt peace wash over you, though it was soon to be replaced by worry and anxiety.

"I missed you Bee" your father spoke, his arms engulfing your body as waves of memories were brought back from the childhood nickname. She was quick to hug back "I missed you too Dad" You couldn't help your mouth curling into a smile as you let go.

"Can I go up to my room and put my things away?" Your father waved his hand in reply, pointing towards the stairs before smiling and following Al out to the car to help with some of your stuff.

Being back in your room felt weird, though the balcony flashed in your eyes, an addition you had completely forgotten about. Dropping your bags in anticipation, you rushed to the glass doors, sliding them open. You had always loved the view of the outer banks, the glistening of the ocean and the sun that set upon the sky.

Your eyes locked on the large windows of the house in front of yours, a room that was far too familiar staring back at you. A messy bedroom was fully in your line of sight, the curtains not even slightly drawn.

Your eyes widened when you remembered who actually lived there, three boys walking into the space who you identified to be the trio that you had spent nearly all of your childhood with, Topper, Kelce and Rafe Cameron.

You quickly began to turn and walk back inside of your room, falling straight on your bed. Pulling one of your pillows to your face, you let out a loud groan into the fabric.

"Suck it up" you whispered to yourself, wiping away the salty tears that were now rolling down your face, as the memories flooded back.

You returned your gaze back to the balcony, standing up and walking over to the door. pausing for a moment, you contemplated whether or not it was worth it if Rafe saw you. You leaned your head against the door, sliding down the glass.

Though after everything, you were back in the obx, and there was nothing you could do about it. You just hoped you hadn't left too much damage on the teary-eyed dirty blonde you had left behind.

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks

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shiny-jr · 9 months ago

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not my world [ prologue ]

– Summary: One day you wake in a foreign world with nothing to your name except the clothes on your back. A talking cat named Grim, gives you your only lead to return home. Seek out the seven gods and pray they answer your plea.

– Warning: Yes, this series is a yandere thing, although this post really isn't. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Grim.

– Note: Think of this like a test, just to see how it's received. Yes, this is based off that outlander post I made a while ago. I was thinking I could make this a long-lasting series. However, it really depends how y'all like it. There's not too much going on here, because I'm trying to set the scene and I wrote it all fairly quickly. However, it's just a small taste. So, let me know what y'all think.

– Pages: 11

“So… you’re saying that you woke up here on this beach with no explanation, but you’re from another world so you have no idea where you are? You fell asleep in your own bed, in your own home, and now you’re here, with no way to go back?”

As far fetched as it sounded, you could only grimly nod. A dream, this should’ve just been a nightmare. But that was confirmed to be false when you pinched yourself multiple times and tried to splash yourself with the nearby ocean water. Everything felt so real, from the sand between your toes to the breeze in the air and the sunlight drying the water off the surface of your flesh. You wanted it to be nothing but a dream, especially when you found a talking cat with a forked tail and blue fire in his ears.

This was your third attempt trying to explain things to this impish but rather harmless little furball, and each time he seemed more puzzled than the last. His little black nose twitched as he sat in front of you, his paws digging into the sand as those strange eyes of his studied you closely. His voice was grating, high-pitched, speaking with a tone of doubt. “You don’t look like you’re from any of the seven nations. No pointed ears, no beast features, not even a magestone to your name! Well, it makes sense. A nobody like you obviously wouldn’t have a magestone anyways.”

That was probably meant to be an insult, but considering you didn’t even know what a magestone was, you didn’t really take any offense at all. Pointed ears, beast features, magestones, annoying talking cats– you really didn’t care about any of that. “Because I’m not from whatever seven nations there are. I already told you where I’m from.”

“Yeah, well I never heard of wherever it was you said. So get lost, would you, human? I’ve claimed this beach alrea–”

A low growl rang in the air. Swiftly you scanned your surroundings, fearful that you were about to be attacked by some mythical beast. However, when you looked back to the feline who now looked quite ashamed, you realized the noise came from his stomach. Actually, the little fellow seemed pretty scrawny, and you could just barely make out the shape of his ribs poking out of his sides.

Standing up, you brushed off the sand clinging to the oversized t-shirt you fell asleep in. Thankfully, you at least had sandals, which was better than waking up here barefoot. With one look around, there didn’t appear to be anyone for miles, and no sign of civilization here. Leaving the cat as your only option to turn to, as jarring as it was to be speaking to a cat. “Er… Look, if you could at least help me find people, a shelter, a city, something– then I’ll see about getting you something to eat. Deal?”

“I don’t need your help! But… I’m curious, so I’ll follow anyway.”

“Great…” You sigh, as you decide to follow a path that leads away from the shoreline and into woodlands. At the very least, you were not completely alone. This would be much more terrifying if you had woken up and there was absolutely no one around. “So, do you have a name or are you, like, feral?”

“I’m not feral!” It hissed as it walked in tandem beside you, keeping up with your steady pace. “Since I am so great, I will allow you to know my name. I am the all-mighty Grim! One-of-a-kind and destined to one day become strong, powerful enough to defeat even the seven gods!”

“Seven gods…?” Was this some sort of fantasy setting? It had to be. First he mentioned pointed ears and beast-people, and you were having a conversation with a talking cat! Maybe seven gods were the least outlandish thing you’ve heard today. “Well, I’m (Y/n).”

“You’ve never heard of The Seven? How stupid could you be?”

You frowned at his toothy little grin as he ridiculed you for your knowledge on a place you just ended up in. “Well excuse me for not knowing anything about this place I just ended up in!” Tearing your gaze away, you saw a cabin up ahead. It appeared abandoned, so there wasn’t any hope of seeing another person yet. Still, there may be something useful inside, so you approach.

Trying the knob, you found the lock jammed. The wood of the front door was rotting, some of it in splitters and the windows were shattered. With a few strong kicks, the door became dislodged and finally gave way beneath the pressure.

“You’re excused– hey! Tuna!” You didn’t even bother stopping the feline when he rushed into the abandoned cabin, sprinting after the few cans of tuna he spotted on an old table. At least he would get to eat.

You didn’t particularly care for canned fish that’s been sitting there for who knows how long. In practically a blink of the eye he had devoured three whole cans of the stuff and licked the remnants off of his whiskers.

“Okay, okay, since I feel so bad for you, and because you found these tuna cans, I’ll be your guide. That way, I don’t owe you nothin’ after this! Maybe one day, if you’re still around, you’ll see me ascend to the ranks among the archons and you can brag like I knew him! Isn’t Grim so cool and praise worthy? I might even remember you and accept your prayers! You can thank me now.”

At his smug expression, you squinted incredulously as he began walking down the path in the middle of the woods once more. Following hesitantly, thankful there was daylight and this seemed like a particularly nice forest, save for the very depths of it further away from the road that were dark due to the cover of leaves and branches above. However, the trees closest to you weren’t so dense, and the sunlight filtered through the thin foliage. The dirt road was wide, but slightly covered with scattered blades of grass and underbrush, as if no one had used it in a long while. Squirrel-like critters darted about in trees, strange fruits hung on low-branches, and foreign flowers sprouted alongside little ponds.

“I’ll thank you after an explanation and a little help. So, what’s this about gods?”

“Let’s see… I’ll put it so simple that even a baby can understand! There are seven nations, and each one has a god. These gods are super-powerful! I’m talking crazy-strong, like they can level mountains and raise the sea type of miracles!”

As he strolled beside you, his forked-tail swished back and forth. For now it seemed like he knew where he was going, so hopefully that was a good sign. Right now, you had no idea what to do or how to get home. However, if magic existed in this realm, then surely there would be some way to get back. There had to be, for your own peace of mind.

“Maybe if you pray to one, you’ll get an answer. But the chances of that are pretty much zero, because only idiots rely on the gods since they almost never answer. You’d have a better chance trying to actually meet one of them and try to talk to them in person, but good luck with that!”

As the road neared a cliff, you caught a glimpse of the scenery. It was a kingdom, a whole city that began right at the edge of a vast meadow. The rolling valley ended at a river, across a wide stone bridge where the city began. Miles and miles of cobblestone roads lined with two to three-story buildings, and rising above it all was a white palace with red conical roofs that pierced the very sky. It looked fantastical, like something straight out of a peculiar little story book, especially considering how unnaturally bright the flowers were and how there was the occasional mushroom as tall as a tree.

Never before in your entire life had you ever seen a single place like this. Some stupid naive little part of yourself had hoped that perhaps you were still in your world, but this was simply proof that tore that little shred of hope to bits. “What is this place…?”

He paused to scratch a spot behind his ear. “That’s the capital city of Heartslabyul. You see that big palace all the way over there? That’s where the god of fire lives. One day, I’m gonna live in a place even bigger, grander, than that! My worshippers will build, brick by brick, a towering temple that reaches the very heavens! It’ll make that palace look puny in comparison!”

Dumbfounded, you nearly get left behind in your stupor once the feline begins to walk down a rocky slope again. You follow, as Grim yammered on and on, “Fire is harsh, just like that place. Trust me, I tried staking a claim there, but I was kicked out! Can you believe it? Me! They just threw me out as if I were nothing! Anyways, I already forgot what you were looking for, but whatever it is, you’ll probably find something there––”

“A way home?” You reminded him, a tiny bit irked that he seemed to forget so easily. For such a haughty little beast with nothing to his name, he was very conceited.

“Ooh yeah, right. That. Gods have all this magic and wisdom from their years and stuff, so they gotta know something. But if I were a god, I wouldn’t answer you, to be honest.”

Grumpily you point out the obvious. This cat-like creature was far from the divine that you were currently picturing. “You’re not a god.”

Yowling in response, Grim shot back with irritation, “Yet! Not a god yet!” When he spat, a small puff of smoke and a spark of flames he tried to aim at the dirt caused his blue ear flames to flicker stronger until one stray flame popped like a hot scorching coal. It went flying directly at your face, and all you could do was react quickly enough to try and step back while your arms and hands covered your face.

However, no pain ever came. “How are you doing that?!”

“Doing what? And you need to watch it with––” When you began to lower your arms, you saw it. When you had shielded yourself, your knuckles had been against your cheek and so your palm was facing outward. Floating in your open palm, was that small spark that came from his ears and nearly burned you. Immediately your eyes widened, and the surprise didn’t end there. As if fluctuating with your shock, the fire became a small yet harsh monetary crackling burst that caused both you and the feline to yelp and stumble back in disbelief until your palms were normal once again.

“You big fat liar! You do know magic! Where’s your magestone?”

Seeing his gray fur stand on edge, you quickly answered, seemingly just as confused as he currently was. “I-I don’t, I swear! I don’t even have a wizardstone! That has never happened to me before! This, magic, stuff like that, talking cats, huge mushrooms, none of this is supposed to be real!”

“Magestone! Not wizardstone! M-A-G-E!”

“Same difference, what do I care?” You had to double-check your hands, wanting to trick yourself again into believing it was something that could be easily explained. Yet this didn't seem like that. This was something else entirely that didn’t make sense, it couldn't be explained. Not while you were still reeling and staring at your own two hands in utter disbelief. “What the hell was that…?”

Sniffing the air around you, Grim paced slowly around you as his whiskers twitched with each sniff. After several rounds circling you, he plopped down in front of you and peered up at you quizzically. “I really don’t smell a magestone on you… but you used my fire! It was blue! Everyone knows you can’t use magic without one! Wait a moment… this is perfect!” Immediately brightening up, the little creature gave a toothy grin as he declared, “From now on, you will be my servant! One day when I am a god, I will make you a demi-god! Everyone knows the great gods have divine or mystic servants of some kind! So you will be my henchman! Count yourself blessed, human.”

“What…?” For now you didn’t even want to touch anything, especially yourself. What if you just tapped something and it was set ablaze? Although you felt fine physically, you were not completely okay. Mentally your mind was scrambled with trying to comprehend everything going on and being said, and now you had the additional burden of accidentally burning everything you touched.

“Maybe it has to do with the fact that you aren’t from here, so this world’s rules don’t even apply to you… yeah, that’s it! This is great! Does this mean you can wield other elements? We should try! If it storms tonight, we’ll stand at the highest cliff and wait for lightning to strike!”

“Definitely not!” You screech in reply, currently trying to prevent yourself from panicking and having a destructive mental breakdown all at the same time. Keeping your arms away from your body and fingers spread apart, you tentatively try grabbing stones and sticks and blades of grass to test the ability and see if anything would be set ablaze. And yet, nothing happened, so you slowly began to relax, as much as was possible in that moment.

Grim watched with great intrigue, hoping, wishing, to see you burn something straight with your hands. However, when he saw not a single spark or sign of smoke, he sighed, “Don’t you realize the possibilities! A small chosen few can wield magic like that, and even then, it’s only one element! This means that you might be able to do more! We’ll be legendary, beating every foe we come across!”

“Woah, woah, woah, who said anything about beating foes?” Cutting off that idea right now before it would get out of hand. It had only been a few minutes, not even an hour, and even you could see that Grim was a handful. “I am no fighter. If I magically somehow have these weird abilities now, doesn’t mean I want to fight with them. Are you insane? The most I’ll do is like… instantly heat up my food or make a light in the dark. That’s it. Actually, that first one sounds pretty useful…”

Angrily throwing his paws up in exasperation while falling back on some patches of grass, he groaned, “Ugh, but that’s so boringggg! Where’s your creativity? You could become a god among gods!”

Choosing to ignore his less than enthusiastic response, you proceeded, drawing his attention back to something he recently mentioned. Awkwardly you grip your hands, twisting your wrist between your fingers, yet nothing hurts. Everything felt normal, as if you hadn’t just wielding fire a minute ago. “You said a god of fire resided over there in that city, right?”

“Yeah, you’ll fit right in with all those hot-headed fire-breathers now that you have a bit of magic.”

As the two of you neared the bottom of the cliff and approached a smaller section of the forest that would lead directly to the road that branched off into either a vast meadow or the gates of the kingdom, the world seemed to stop when a loud rumbling rang through the air. The birds ceased their singing songs and the squirrelish creatures paused their chittering chattering. The ground shook and in the far distance, miles and miles behind the palace where there looked to be nothing but untamed wilderness, balls of fire spewed forth from what you had thought were mountains but were actually volcanoes. Seeing the smoke pour out from the peak, you debated running right back to the beach which was in the opposite direction of the rupture in the earth.

While initially startled, Grim quickly relaxed and began his walking again just as the sounds of nature resumed their tune. As if by some miraculous work of magic, the volcano stopped its rumbling just as quickly as it began, and the smoke receded as well. Like a pot popping on a stovetop and simmering over with water, but its vapor and contents contained by a top, that’s how rapidly it started and ended. Grim proceeded to walk in front of you to lead the way. Sensing your question before you even voiced it, he called out over his shoulder,

“Don’t look so panicked, we’re not gonna die. That happens like once a week. It used to be more sparse but… well, like I said, all the humans in the kingdom are a buncha hotheads. Especially their king! Everyone knows the god of pyro has the worst temper of all the seven, that’s why the volcanoes go off when he’s all angry! All you gotta do is gather up the courage to ask him what you want to know, and pray that he doesn’t incinerate you where you stand.”

#shiny speaks #twst #twisted wonderland #grim #twst grim #outlander twst #not my world

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mellowmusings · 10 days ago

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Blessed mistakes | Prologue Azriel x Reader

part 1

A/N- This is just a drabble for now and its been sitting in my drafts for a while so i decided to post it. Not sure if i'm gonna continue on this though.

summary- After over 5 centuries of waiting Azriel hasn't found his mate, given up all hope of any chance of finding her he decides to start pursuing Elain, not seeing what was in front of him all along.

This was miserable, He was miserable.

The stale tavern air reeked of unwashed bodies, alcohol and bile. Men and women sang bawdy songs in offtune tones drowning out the music, in a corner a brawl went on, men punching one another over a rigged game of poker, women flirted with him, and none took to his liking.

How the mighty had fallen, he mused. He gulped down his whiskey, the burn in his throat grounding him. A few centuries ago he would have been drinking himself to his limit with his brothers and bedding whatever pretty female came his way, but that wasn't the case anymore. Somewhere along the path he'd fallen in love and started caring for females who could never love him the way he loved them. Now his heart was a stupid, broken mess of emotions and feelings he didn't like, and so he spent his days working himself trying to forget his feelings, now he spent his nights training because even sleep had abandoned hom. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been happy, genuinely happy and felt Loved

*2 centuries ago*

The cool summer breeze ruffled his hair, the birds sang in the background, almost harmonizing with one another. He could make out the call of the Mockingjay, A cuckoo bird, and maybe a peacock too. He sat besides y/n, his who was like a younger sister to him. She'd practically grown up with him, Cass and Rhys since they were teenagers. "Hey Az, can i ask you something?" She carefully unfolded the petals of a half bloomed daffodil. "Sure what is it?" "If you had to choose between Mor, your mate and me who would you choose, to love I mean." She asked, a slight hint of nervousness in her voice. Her question caught Azriel off-guard, he loved her but not in a romantic manner, he loved his mate more, no matter who she was, after all, she was his other half. Mor on the other hand was everything he yearned for, she was simply...perfect. He admired and respected her a lot, but more than that he loved her a lot. He thought for a moment before responding "It's tricky, on one hand, there's Mor and on the other, there's my mate. I'd say, my mate" He said carefully, not sure where this was going. Y/n's face fell just the slightest, if he didn't know her well, he wouldn't have noticed, but he did. "What's the matter, princess?" He asked softly, "What about me?" y/n asked softly He huffed out a laugh before responding, "I love you a lot, I really do princess, but you're like a younger sister to me, plus my mate always comes first." "right, of course they do." she said dejectedly, swinging her legs back and forth holding back tears. "Whats the matter princess?" 'The thing is Az you could slit my throat and with my one last gasping breath, I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt, gods why can't you see it? I love you, and I love you more than you could ever imagine.'

She didn't say those words but gods did she want to, she wanted to tell Az how stupid he was for giving his heart to some females who were just gonna stomp on it and leave but she didn't because Azriel loved Mor and some mate he didn't know more than he loved her. She was always going to be a friend to him, nothing more, nothing less. So she continued swinging her legs and lied to his face with a simple 'I'm fine, I swear'. He didn't believe her, they both knew each other well enough to know that much, still he didn't pry any further. So they sat in silence, and stared at the setting sun while the world around them went quite, she averted her gaze away from Azriel as tears fell and landed on the broken yellow petals. if y'all wanna be tagged, just let me know :) @starlightazriel @scorpioriesling @velarisdusk @siriuslystyle1989

#acotar series #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfics #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #azriel angst #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel #sjm books #azriel x oc #azriel x you #azriel fic #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #fanfiction

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r3starttt · 7 months ago

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OBLIVIATE | 00

ellabs x reader | series m.list | > CHAPTER ONE

an: comment to be added to the taglist!

SUMMARY: Amidst the seemingly flawless life, at the peak of the perfection, a looming fear emerges from the very plan that set everything in motion. It shadows you and your wife like a persistent ghost. Memories of youth and a vow to eternal love now cling relentlessly, tempting them to give it another chance.

CW: WIP. +18 content. poly relationship. threesome. sexting. smut encounters. description of sex. modern au. famous au. college au. ex to lovers. time skips.

hockey player! a. rockstar! e. actress! r.

Faded Polaroids lingered between your fingers, each one handled with the utmost delicacy and love.

PROLOGUE

You and Abby had just moved for the third time this year. This entire week had been a blur of sleepless nights spent unpacking. Abby had refused to allow anyone else access to the privacy of your new home, earning frequent scoldings from you, constantly reminding her how things could've been much easier that way.

You only accepted her request because of a very specific person on your mind.

Since your careers took off, neither of you had had a proper chance to settle down. Constantly rushing for interviews and switching roles between trophy wife and fame that left little room for stability.

As you organized the fancy shelfs she bought for the leaving room, Abby found a box filled with memories from her teenage years—music albums, books, and albums she had brought from her home after your marriage, knowing how much you cherished such things.

Taking a break to eat and rest, you both decided to sift through them. You laughed at her old photos, where she looked adorable or, as she called herself, 'nerdy' with her first pair of glasses. Constantly melting at her baby pictures, falling even more in love with the woman before you.

However, the comfort dimmed when you found a particular Polaroid—one you had once begged to take so you would never forget that day. Abby rested her head on your shoulder in the photo, your arms on each side, holding the camera, an auburn girl on your other side.

"What's that?" Abby's voice took you off trance. Your eyes flickered between the Polaroid in your hand and her face, simply leaning the picture to her.

"Guess we mixed them last time" She muttered quietly "Thought you put it here on purpose" a dismissive tone in those words, such a fake acting.

"Nah, I've got a whole box for it" you met her eyes. Your eyebrows furrowing at the tone on her voice, mocking you.

"I've been thinking about her" You handed her another picture, a small dog on Abby's lap. An intent to distract her from the emotions your words might evoke.

"Yeah?" Her hand brushed yours as she took the Polaroid. "What about her?" The couch creaked as she shifted closer to you.

"How's she doing?" you whispered, breaking the silence that kep on growing between both. "You've herd the news." Abby inquired, quite nonchalantly

"I miss her," you admitted. Saying it aloud felt strange, almost wrong- it left a bittersweet taste.

You hoped she would say something, but instead, she was distracted by another Polaroid she handed you seconds later. It was one you had never seen before, there she was, Ellie Williams

It all started with what was supposed to be a studying session, for you.

Both of them, well, Ellie had offered to help you with some math things you were having issues with. Abby decided to join 'I don't trust you two alone'

After that day, their need for you became a constant, unwavering presence. If they had been touch-deprived before, yearning for your glance, your kiss, any sign of affection, it only intensified afterward.

They craved your proximity, your touch, your attention, and it was undeniably tempting.

You agreed with both to let it as a sort of open relationship, a friends with benefits arrangement.

Mostly because you knew it would never work if the three of you stood together.

Not with Abby's aspirations and determination to study something to make her dad proud. Ellie, being deeply invested in her studies, aiming for success- hungry. And you who could only wait for that lucky signal, that defining moment to steer you toward your life's purpose—anything to keep you occupied.

Abby constantly showered you with affection and care, feeling a physical need to spoil both of you. She would often send videos or pictures of her sweaty abdomen post-gym session, accompanied by messages asking if either of you needed anything. "Have you eaten yet?"

On the other hand Ellie kept sexting whenever she had the chance, sending you both nudes with the excuse she needed an opinion before sending them to a girl she'd just met. Which wasn't completely fake- it just happened way too often to not be on purpose.

So, why not give it a chance. If it worked, great. If not, well, you'd find a way to make it function as long as you needed it.

> CHAPTER ONE

- taglist: @softlysunrays @eyesfullofsttars <33 | @cowboylu @ennabear @satellitespinner @flowrmoth

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merowkittie · 2 months ago

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Sugar Baby — Capt. John Price . Prologue

summary: after a breakup with an ex, you end up on dating apps looking for someone to bring you some fun; entertainment. you happen to meet a military man, who’s looking for the same thing, but to spoil. who are you to decline his message asking if you wanted to be his sugar baby and tend to some of his needs?

warnings: abusive toxic ex / age gap (reader is like 24 in my head, price is late 30’s) / sugar daddy/baby dynamics / r calls john daddy / nsfw this get nastyyy (later on)

note: hi sweets, i’m officially writing again and i’m so excited to start this mini series with a little backstory/prologue. i will say the reader is written gender neutral (do note that i use fem images to layout settings/tones for my fics!!) and i do write my reader as black presenting esp feature wise :). i may slip up and use some feminine elements here and there but it will be overall neutral.

enjoy sweets ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ

“No Cass, you don’t understand, he sat there and played in my face for 2 years! There’s nothing to be calm about.” An aggravated sigh left your mouth as the hand holding your phone shook in anger. Your knuckles were white from the grip you were holding the poor thing in. Your free hand held the bridge of your nose as you tilted your head back, resting against the tub.

Sat in your bathtub inside of the small apartment, you thought taking a nice soothing rose water bath would relax you. It did everything but that. Even with the dim lights, candles for aromatherapy, and the oils that were infused with the bath water, your nerves were high and everything was telling you to do something!

Luckily your great friend Cass was here to save the day. She was on the phone telling you to look for other options, people come and go, live life and have fun.

“There’s no use getting hung up on a man that wants nothing to do with you, babe.” she said on the other end of the phone. Cass was always the type to forget about a man the next day and fuck one the next morning and she was trying to convert you to do the same thing.

You were never like that. Simply reserved and let things come to you. One thing Cass always applauded you on was your patience but she’s seeing now how little you have left.

“I swear i should’ve listened to my gut before. You know i’m always right!”

“Always. You’re like my own personal 8 ball!” Cass giggled on the other end. “Is your gut telling you to do something specific right now?”

For a moment you stopped and tried to see if your gut was tingling and it was. Your eyes drifted to a wine bottle by your side, pink moscato.

With a hum you looked down at the bath water and thought to yourself about different things to do.

“My gut is telling me to get drunk and break this bottle over his head.” You smiled to yourself as you placed the phone on the floor, putting it on speaker and grabbing the wine bottle.

Cass laughed at the idea. Knowing her, she’d be down for that and way more. A night out with the two of you meant hangovers, no regrets, and pleasure for the whole night and maybe the morning after. “I’m down but not tonight. Mom’s over and she’s gonna go nuts if she sees me in my club outfit.” She groaned at the thought.

You chuckled at that and sighed, back to square one of figuring out what to do with a wasted night.

It was silent between the two of you for a minute, you casually sipped on the wine, thinking about how you could’ve fucked up, why he didn’t tell you how he was feeling, and who the bitch was that he cheated on you with. As far as you were aware, he had an affair with someone for a year while you two were together.

You only found out because he came home smelling like perfume that wasn’t yours and drunk talking about how he fucked someone on your last anniversary. What a loser.

“Listen, you know he was like borderline abusive to you right?” She pointed out. Reminding you on what type of person he really was. “He wouldn’t even let you hang out with me half the time. Rarely let you go out by yourself, and let’s not talk about that time i caught him hitting you during the spring party at work..”

Shaking your head, you gently massaged your temples.

When she walked in on that, you had to beg her not to call anyone or the police, in fear of what he could do to you after the fact. That day was the first time he hit you, and for some reason it continued randomly but rarely after.

Sometimes he’d pull you into him, loving you and telling you he’d always be there, then you’d do something like break a dish, hangout with Cass, or get catcalled when you’re minding your business and then the whole relationship is ruined and he’s angry. He never could control his anger properly.

“Yea.. You’re right and I only put myself through that because I thought he meant how he felt for me.. but Cass this is hard.” You took a long sip of your moscato, thinking back to how he treated you.

“I just don’t want you going through that again. I know you’re a strong girl on your own, you could totally whoop my ass.” She joked, “But let’s get over this piece of shit? I mean he really wasn’t worth it anyways. We can go clubbing soon and get hot men to buy us drinks.”

You both giggled at the idea. That was how most of your nights went. It didn’t help you two befriended like half the bouncers in the area.

“Hey babe are you down for idea time?” Cass asked.

“Yea, what’s up?”

“Ok, so I think you should get on a dating app. Don’t hate yet!—” she cut off your loud obnoxious sigh, knowing you have a disdain for those apps. “I’ll help you set your account up right now. You know what the men look like on some of these?? HOT!”

At this point you felt a tad desperate but hey, it was worth a try right? Who knows, maybe you could find someone who will treat you right for once.

“Oh god. Ok Cass.. let me prepare myself though.” You whined as you took one last big swing of your wine before picking your phone back up and downloading one of the dreaded dating apps she sent you.

She began to instruct you on how to set your account up, specific pictures to put, a bio describing yourself and etc. It was relatively easy and by the time you finished you left your bath and sat in your bedroom wrapped in a silk robe smelling like coconuts and vanilla, a night outfit, and a bonnet to hold your locs.

You bickered about some of the people you came across, who was cute, ugly, who looked like they had money, and just browsed through different options both male and female.

Cass wasn’t feeling half of the people who matched you and you weren’t really either. They either didn’t meet your tastes, not pretty in the face, or just gave bad vibes.

Until after giving up for half an hour and playing imessage games, your phone went off with a message reading.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

At first you were confused and talked it over with Cass, trying to remember who this John was and how he looked before your horny ass must’ve fast matched him.

“Wait isn’t this the dilf we were screaming over??” She said over the phone, you could tell she was getting excited.

Your eyes lit up and the gears turned in your head. While waiting for interesting people you came across a man named John Price, and his bio said how he was a man in the military looking for a potential sugar baby to talk to when he was home.

This obviously piqued your interests because the one photo he provided that showed his muscled body in a dress suit and looking away made your mouth drool in seconds.

He was a sight to take in and if he needed someone to just talk to him, you were ready.

“Oh Shit! Ok, Cass I need to lock in. I will call you back when i’m done with an update.” You promised into the mic of your phone.

She giggled and said her goodbyes before hanging up.

Now alone with this sexy man texting you, you were a bit nervous but so so excited for a possibility.

Opening the dm, you began to type.

“Hey Handsome.”

You bit your lip anticipating his incoming reply. He was quite the mystery man from the singular photo on his account and little information in his bio.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing swiping on my profile?”

A giggle left your lips like a school girl with a crush when you read the compliment. A ‘pretty thing’. It’s good to know he finds you attractive.

Y: “I liked what I saw.

It’s nice to know you think i’m pretty. <3”

J: “More than. You’re beautiful, darling.

Tell me a bit about yourself, yea?”

Y: “What do you want to know? I’m pretty much an open book. ;)”

J: “That’s good to know.

What’re you interested in?”

You began to tell John about your interests, even asking about his. The way he spoke through these messages held a tone of authority, dominance. He guided the conversation and you didn’t feel bored at all throughout your talking. He was also constantly complimenting you, praising you on things you’ve accomplished. John was pulling you in quickly, you knew you’d have to keep him around.

You learned that he’s a captain in the military and that’s it about his work life. He didn’t seem to like to speak about it too much, rather more interested in your work and social life instead. In the back of your mind was still his little comment in his bio mentioning how he was looking for a sugar baby.

And It’s like he read your mind because after a while of talking about each other he finally asked,

J: “Sweetheart, you’re really piquing my interest. You don’t got a boyfriend at home?”

Y: “Nope. Why? Interested in filling that spot?”

J: “Haha. You don’t want me, lovie.”

Y: “But what if i do?

We don’t have to be in a relationship.. We can be fuck buddies. ;)”

J: “Dirty girl.

You wanna be my sugar baby? I need a sweet naughty thing like you.”

To say you were gagged would be an understatement. You sat for a minute or two looking over the text and thinking through your head. What would this entitle? You’ve never done something somewhat scandalous like this. Though you didn’t want to make him wait and think over this way too long. So you went with that gut feeling and replied with your yes.

Y: “Only if i’m going to be spoiled with the best?”

J: “Nothing but the best and more. You don’t deserve anything less.”

Y: “Then yes. When’s our first meeting then daddy? 💋”

J: “I can take you to a bar tomorrow night. Nothing shabby, it’s fancy and I’ll say they have the best Margarita’s and Manhattan’s I’ve ever tasted.

And we can talk about some rules to establish here?”

Y: “Rules? Why not talk about them now?”

J: “I’d rather discuss all of that in person. Don’t worry your pretty head though.

Only one rule. Shouldn’t be hard yea?”

Y: “Hmm so i have to wait until tmrw?”

J: “Precisely. You should love the bar though.”

Y: “Should i get dolled up then? ;)”

J: “Yes. I’ll pick you up around 9. Send me your address and your number?”

Y: “You’re not gonna kidnap me are you captain military man?”

J: “No darling. Not looking to scare away a pretty lady.”

Y: “Hmm. Ok then. Here’s my number and address xx-xxxx xxxx.

Don’t stand me up. And don’t kidnap me!!!”

J: “Wouldn’t dream of it.

Goodnight, Baby.”

Y: “Goodnight, Handsome.”

With that you turned your phone off and closed your eyes, inhaling deeply to register the events that have just occurred. So many questions were running through your mind though so much thrill and excitement was replacing it quickly.

Was this man a blessing after such distressing weeks? Maybe this was your fun and entertainment you were looking for.

You’d have to figure that out tomorrow night.

Taglist: @joufrance @muddy-rat @iluvyvonne @scnee @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @vkeyy @somewhatfantasticalreality @starriestarlight @blues-of-neptune @ohdrey89 @serialkillerattracterhopefully

(lmk if you want to be added for future parts!)

#reader insert #black reader #cod mw2 x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x black reader #john price x reader #captain john price #cod mw fanfiction #cod mw x reader #price call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #john price #sugar daddy price!au aurora ᥫ᭡

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slut4b1ls · 1 month ago

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—NOTICED (part 2)

BILLIE EILISH X F!READER

summary: One morning you wake up to a mail from Billie Eilish’s manager asking you to star in her new music video..(continuation; check out the previous parts)

prologue part one part two part three (soon)

As the door to the garderobe opened, Billie took a step back and a blonde, middle-aged woman entered the room. "Hello, so sorry I’m late. I’ll be retouching your makeup" she said. "We need to be quick because the shooting starts in 30". It was the makeup artist you two had completely forgotten about. You glanced at Billie, but her eyes were still focused on the woman speaking. Had she really been flirting with you a moment ago?

After retouching Billie, the woman led you to a separate room. The entire time she was doing your make up, you remained quiet. Billie’s makeup was already finished, so they were just waiting for you.

When she finished, you thanked her and hurried to the main room where the shoot was taking place. As you entered, you immediately exchanged glances with Billie, but she simply smirked and looked down at her shoes. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t mad at how quiet she was now, but you’d also be lying if you said it didn’t drive you crazy in the best way possible.

"Okay, listen" the manager yelled so everyone in the room could hear. "As you know, the script for the video is simple. Everyone stick to the plan, and there will be no issues". Once she finished, everyone took their places and you started to walk toward Billie. "You ready, baby?" She asked as you got close enough. You were so stressed by the whole filming process that you didn’t even notice the nickname she called you. You were in the same white space where the mv for Lunch had been filmed, and the first scene required just a simple wooden chair.

As all the cameras were set up and ready, you did a test shoot where they walked you through the first scene. Billie was supposed to sit on the chair while you stood behind her, placing your hands on her shoulders, slowly leaning in closer, letting your hands linger on her further. The thoughts of it were so overwhelming for you, but you knew what you signed for, it was the thing that happened moments earlier that made you even more nervous to do the scene. You tried to shake off the thoughts and convice yourself that the whole situation wasn’t what you thought it was and get the job done.

When the actual filming of the scene began, you performed as you were told to. After repeating the scene multiple times, finally getting through, the team gathered around to see the final playback. Billie stood up from the chair and leaned toward you. "You did really good. Are you getting nervous again?" She said with a smirk "I can feel you’re tense." You ignored her comment, as you were already weak in your knees, and you went into doing the next scene.

Each scene was getting even more intense, especially with the comments Billie made during them. After some, it was finally a time for a lunch break. The team had ordered some food for you and Billie that you were supposed to eat in her garderobe. The two of you began walking toward the room in complete silence, the tension still present in the air.

As you entered the space, Billie grabbed the packed food that was waiting on her vanity table and opened it. It was a selection of veggie burgers she specifically asked for. Handing one to you, she took a seat at the couch, manspreading casually as she opened hers. "Hope you will like it. I picked them for us from my favorite spot." She said, glancing at you. "Oh I’m sure they are delicious" you replied shyly.

You two started eating, enjoying your food as Billie spoke. "I hope the filming isn’t too overwhelming for you. That’s the last thing I’d want" she said, her tone gentle. "You really seemed nervous while we were on the set. If you need help calming down, I’m sure we can work it out."

You stared at her as she smirked, choosing not to say anything. "Okay, just keep in mind that I’m open to help anytime." She added with a wink. You remained froozen, unsure of how to react.

The moment was inturrupted by the manager who came in to inform you both that the filming will resume in 20 minutes. Until then, you had some free time.

When the manager left, Billie stood up, leaving the empty food container behind, and walked over to her vanity to check her reflection in the mirror. As she looked at herself, you decided to speak up.

"Just so you know, I’m so thankful for this whole opportunity. This feels so unreal to me. You truly are an inspiration, and I have admired your work for so long now."

Billie turned her gaze toward you, soft laugh escaping her lips "Yeah?" she softly asked. "You are a fan of mine?"

"I guess you could say that." You replied, your tone softening. "You know what? I really insist on you trying my calming technique." Billie said with a playful smirk "I’m sure it will make the whole experience even better"

"Maybe it’s not such a bad idea, I will definitely think about it." You said with a smile. "Better think quick. We only have about 18 minutes left until someone will interrupt us again." Billie said as she walked toward you.

a/n: It’s here!! Sorry for keeping you waiting, hope you like it and as always let me know what you think. Next part will be probably the one you will like the most, be ready.. 👀💋

tags: @hkkuugu @certifiedwomenlover @hopingforgoodblogs @canthelpit0 @billiesbabygirll @mybluebossanova @slutforabbyanderson

if you would like to be added to my taglist to be updated when I post a new fic, let me know!!

masterlist.

#—noticed series *ೃ༄#—fanfics*ೃ༄#billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x y/n #billie x reader

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plasticferal · 11 months ago

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keeping score | matt & chris sturniolo.

prologue: 'they say love is the sixth sense that destroys all other five senses’

authors notes: 1.9k, explicit language, reader discretion is advised. welcome to my first series, please enjoy the ride.

they both want you. the only way matt and chris can agree to settle who wins is through competition, one where you’re the prize. your own heart is torn between the two brothers. the thing is though, love doesn’t keep score.

they have two very different experiences to offer. two sides of the same coin. a coin you refuse you flip and settle on.

matt is the first to catch your eye in any room. he makes you nervous. butterflies, awkward laughs, stuttering over your words. all of it. you like him. you’re unsure if he feels the same toward you.

however, you also like chris. the compliments he showers you in, the subtle flirting, the way he softens his tone around you, how giving he is, the way he’s so shamelessly himself. the list goes on. he’s different.

it’s a weird triangle of intrigue and unrequited feelings that lingers and is never acknowledged.

you’re already convinced it’ll never happen. with either of them. you’d be putting too much at risk considering how deeply you value your friendship before anything else. the fear of falling in love, and losing them both.

which might just be your karma for being into both brothers.

they occupy the living room. you’re upstairs, using nick’s bed to take a nap while he showers, and he takes long showers. he’s always given you a safe space in the house, to make it feel like home.

you love to annoy chris and matt by stealing their clothes, blankets, soft drinks out of the fridge, tagging along to every late night drive and fast food pick up.

they share everything with you, but you designate yourself in nicks’s room as to not stir up any terrible, rash decisions on your accord.

being fast asleep and tangled up in crisp, cold, silk sheets, it’s a deep sleep. completely escaping into your dreams.

you’re left unaware of the chaos that’s about to ensue in the living room between the two brothers who occupy your mind. chaos is the score in which reality is written upon.

“you like y/n, right?” matt asks chris.

you’ve had a strange feeling for a while now that matt is trying to set you up with his brother. which, as flattering as it is, it’s bittersweet.

matt is sinking lazily into the lounge while scrolling through his phone, on the furthest left. chris is on the furthest right with his feet kicked up on the coffee table.

they’re in direct view of each other on the L shaped couch. not in a literal sense, just in proximity. neither brother is actually looking up from a screen of some kind.

“what?” chris snaps his head toward matt, diverting from the television for a moment.

“just answer the question.” matt huffs.

“of course i like y/n. she’s the closest person in our life besides like, nick” chris shrugs, going to look back at the screen again.

matt groans in disappointment at his response.

“you know i don’t mean it like that.” matt sits up slightly, readjusting his position and posture.

“god here we go again.” chris runs a hand down his face, fearing his brother's next words.

“how do you really feel about her?” matt pries.

unusual for him. out of character even, chris is usually the one who needs to know everything all the time, and is never afraid to ask the hard hitting questions, as annoying as it may be. but not with this topic of conversation.

the difference is, chris does it because he’s genuinely curious. matt asks questions for his own selfish reason, to chris’s oblivion.

chris needs reassurance that he’s making the right decision in not pursuing you. matt needs to know if or when he’s going to have to compete. little does he know that time is nearing.

“man, i don’t know. i just- i like her. can’t we leave it at that?” chris’s tone is anguished.

“you’re avoiding the question-”

“i answered your question!” chris cuts matt off before he can fully form his sentence, and matt’s jaw tightens.

“fine, whatever.” matt waves his hands in the air with defeat before diverting back to his phone, leaving chris to linger on his words.

“i’m never gonna make a move. i know how you feel about her, too.” chris huffs, as though he’s annoyed at the response he’s had to give.

“what’d you mean?” matt gives chris a glare, like he’s daring his next words.

“you know exactly what i fuckin’ mean” chris scoffs, shifting in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling the sleeves of his gray hoodie past his knuckles.

matt takes a loud inhale through his nose and exhales through his mouth

“we can’t just keep pretending that we both don’t want her.” matt drops his phone onto his stomach face down, being slightly slumped.

“i’ve been fine pretending” chris throws the hood of his sweatshirt over his head to hide his eyes more from matt, a natural reaction to not enjoying the grilling.

“well if you don’t make a move, i will.” matt’s tone is serious.

“you wouldn’t.” chris deadpans, a sincere tone of disbelief seeping from his lip that he’s now biting the corner of.

“you’ve been saying you’re gonna make a move forever and haven’t done shit."

he knows it’s not nice, but there’s something about the lack of passion from chris despite the obvious crush just makes matt's skin crawl. if someone is going like you and not do anything about it, matt is more than willing to shoot his shot, give you what you deserve.

“that’s not fair” chris twists his face, glaring at his brother.

"i think it’s more than fair play at this point, kid.” matt scoffs.

if looks could kill, matt would be dead.

all those times you’ve perceived matt bringing up chris to entice you have just been a ploy to gauge how both of you feel. he knows it’s manipulative, but no harm, no foul.

the worst part is, chris isn’t actually even sure he wants a relationship. he’s infatuated by you, undoubtedly. matt on the other hand would marry you with a paper ring.

they’re both scared of their own feelings, and the intentions that might come along with them. they don’t ever want to hurt you, but their carnal desire is misleading their moral compass.

“alright then,” chris starts, matt’s words hitting a nerve for him. he slaps his hands onto his thighs and sits up in his spot.

“how do we settle this? who gets her?” chris continues, staring at his brother intently now.

“i don’t think we get to make that decision.” matt shakes his head, bringing his hand to his mouth as he begins to bite his nails, which muffles his words.

“you’re right, we don’t. but we’re gonna have to compete for it to even be an option.”

“compete” matt repeats chris’s words with a sour huff, a slight arrogance in the sense that he doesn’t view his brother as a threat.

not when it comes to you, and there might be a small part of that statement that’s correct. you have a sweet spot for matt, which fires up chris even more. he is conscious that he’s the underdog, as much as you try to show an even amount of attention to the both of them.

“what’s wrong? you scared you’ll lose?” chris taunts.

“that’s the least of my worries.” matt scoffs, his mind traveling down every possible path this terrible idea could go down.

“fine, then you won’t be afraid of a little competition.” chris says nonchalantly, pushing back with the same energy matt’s been giving, turning the tables.

“what’s your plan here? we just tally up the moments we get with her until someone wins? to boost our own egos?” matt speaks with his hands.

“i do love to have my ego stroked” chris grins to himself, the thought of you crossing his mind as the words leave his mouth. his train of thought tends to wonder easily.

“seriously, chris, how do we plan on settling this?” matt rubs his hands together, like the action you do when you’re trying to stay warm.

“i think there’s only one answer to that.” chris responds, in a “duh” tone, without explicitly sharing what’s on his mind.

their sixth sense of being able to unpack each other's minds sparks like an electrical fault in the moment. of course, neither of them hate the thought of getting you in bed. they just hate the thought of you being unaware.

somehow it’s more challenging than falling in love, or securing a relationship. betting to sleep with you is actually the hardest challenge of them all, let alone covering all the bases in order to attain it.��

the intimacy, the intensity of it all. it just seems so unattainable. it requires them, and you, to be completely and utterly vulnerable.

“that seems kind of, objectifying.” matt shifts his demeanour, ironic considering he sparked the conversation.

“it wouldn’t be a competition without a challenge.” chris acknowledges, and unfortunately for the both of them, he’s right.

“this sounds so fucked up” matt says, running his hand through his scruffy hair.

“first brother to five points takes all. all of her.” chris speaks, confidently setting up the challenge.

essentially their plan is to see who can get the closest to you, and let the other brother suffer in watching it happen. which occurs points. loser has to back off of you completely. unless someone gets to you first, in which case all their hard work flies out the window. they won’t be making it easy for each other.

“points won’t matter when i get her into bed first.” matt’s smug, knowing it’ll make chris go insane.

“so i take it that you’re up for the challenge?” chris ignores matt’s words with a prompt, because if he doesn’t disregard it, he’ll lash out.

matt considers it. at least he acts like he does. he knows his answer. if he wants you, if either of them do, they have no choice but to compete. neither of them are sure if it’s love or lust, but they’re about to find out.

they are certain of one thing though. they like everything about you. the way you look. the way you smell. the way you sound. they know exactly why they want you. it’s the first time ever someone has been able to grab the attention of both brothers. hence the severity of the agreement.

“when do we start keeping score?” matt responds, and that’s all the reassurance chris needs in his brothers answer.

as if on command, you trudge down the stairs in a sleepy state. their eyes snap toward you simultaneously, and you blink repeatedly to make sure you’re seeing them right.

you are their favorite part of every day, so it’s not out of the ordinary for them to acknowledge your entrance, but you can feel the intensity of their eyes on you with a different energy.

with foggy vision still clearing as you rub your heavy, tired eyes, you let a small yawn escape. they both melt at the sight, despite you feeling like you’re in your least desirable state.

you’re not even paying attention to their back and forth bickering. the sound of their voices muffling through your ears. whatever it is they’re saying, they’re not saying it loud enough for you to hear before you even make it down the stairs.

“now.” chris states, eyes snapping back at his brother as they both raise off the lounge.

all is fair in love and war.

tag list: @luverboychris @floofparker @fake-sturniolos @letstripsturniolo @imwetforyourmom @mattsneezing @mattslolita @breeloveschris @rootbeerworshiper @mattstattoo @mxqdii @tay-laaaaa @pettydollie @lacysturniolo @annamcdonalds67 @landrysflannel @goandcomebsck @sleepysturnss @call-me-ninaaa @lustfulslxt @txssvx

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader

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babsharrison · 4 months ago

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Safe Haven - John Wick

(Prologue)

Pairing | John Wick x Original Fem! Character

Summary | In search of a breath in his tumultuous life, John Wick finds himself in a charming bookstore where he meets a sweet and welcoming woman. As they grow closer, John questions whether she can love him despite the dark secrets he carries. While battling the shadows of his past, he must protect the love that is blossoming and discover if hope and redemption are truly possible.

A/N | Hi luvs, I'm going to post the prologue of this fic I'm writing, but I'm in doubt about whether to continue this series or if it's good enough to keep going. Any feedback would help me a lot!

John Wick walked down the quiet streets, the soft glow of streetlights reflecting on the damp pavement. The air was cool, carrying the scent of rain and earth. He wasn’t running, wasn’t being chased. For once, the silence of the night wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, though his guard was never fully down. He needed a moment to breathe, away from the endless chaos.

Passing by a small bookstore, his steps slowed. The window display was simple—old books stacked in rows, with a single potted plant resting in the corner. It wasn’t the kind of place that drew much attention, but for some reason, John felt drawn to it.

He opened the door, the bell jingling lightly above him. Inside, the store smelled of leather, paper, and something sweet—like freshly brewed tea. The place was cozy, a contrast to the hard, cold streets outside. A soft voice drifted from the back of the shop.

“I’ll be right with you!”

John stayed still, scanning the shelves as his fingers brushed against the spines of books, some worn and aged, others new. His eyes caught a glimpse of a small table in the corner, where a tea set sat beside a worn book, pages marked with a ribbon.

“Sorry for the wait!”

A woman appeared from behind a stack of books. She was holding a mug in one hand, her other hand adjusting the frames of her glasses. Her smile was warm, her eyes kind—completely unaware of who stood before her.

John offered a slight nod, still not speaking. She didn’t seem fazed by his silence, instead setting down the mug and stepping closer.

“Not many people come in this late. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

John opened his mouth to respond, but found himself hesitating. He didn’t need anything. At least, not in the way she thought. “No,” he finally said, his voice low. “Just… looking.”

She gave a gentle laugh. “I get it. Sometimes it’s nice to get lost in a book, or in the quiet.” She leaned against the counter, her gaze soft as she studied him. “You seem like someone who appreciates quiet.”

John’s jaw tightened for a second, not out of discomfort, but because her words struck deeper than she realized. “Yeah,” he muttered.

“Well, if you need a recommendation, I’m here,” she said with a small shrug, her tone light. “Otherwise, feel free to wander.”

John gave a small nod of thanks and continued walking through the aisles. Something about the bookstore—about her—was soothing. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel the weight of his past bearing down on him.

He wasn’t John Wick, the assassin. Not here. Not with her.

Next chapter!

#john wick x reader #john wick #keanu reeves imagine #keanuverse #keanuverse fic #keanu reeves #john wick fanfic #john wick fic #keanu my beloved #keanu reeves x reader #romance #fluffy #angst #books & libraries #john wick imagine #john wick series #series #fanfic writing #fanfic

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claramelooo · 1 month ago

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Hey, guys! Just saying we are entering the last 3 chapters, so enjoy this as much as you can :)

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warning: +18, soft smut

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem Reader

Summary: Wanda's passion for you blinds her, making Vision suspicious.

VELVET CHAINS

Control

The sound of silence was deafening as you knelt on Wanda’s bed, hands resting on your thighs. Every tiny movement felt amplified—from the unsteady rhythm of your breathing to the soft rustle of fabric.

She hadn’t said a word since bringing you to the room. Her gaze carried a weight that made your throat go dry, yet there was no urgency in her actions. Wanda was methodical—she always had been. She wanted you to feel every second of the waiting, for your mind to anticipate what was coming long before she even approached.

When you finally heard the sound of the wardrobe opening, your breath caught in your throat. You knew what was coming. The paddle. Wanda didn’t need to announce it; the faint sound of leather gliding through the air was enough to make you shut your eyes and brace yourself mentally.

“Stand up, bunny.” Her voice was firm but not harsh. A command that felt gentle yet carried undeniable authority.

You obeyed instantly, rising to your feet and letting your hands fall to your sides. Your eyes remained fixed on the ground, shame and fear swirling together into something you couldn’t quite describe.

“Look at me,” Wanda demanded, and when you finally met her gaze, it felt as though she was reading straight into your soul.

“Why are we here, Y/n?” she asked, the paddle hanging casually from her right hand.

“Because I was disobedient,” you answered softly, your voice almost a whisper.

“Disobedient…” she repeated, almost to herself. “And more than that, weren’t you?”

You swallowed hard and nodded.

“Answer me,” she pressed, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Because… because I was irresponsible. And… and I challenged you.”

“That’s right,” Wanda said, stepping closer. She lifted her free hand and cupped your chin delicately, forcing you to hold her gaze. “But more than anything, you were reckless, little one. And recklessness can be dangerous. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, Wanda,” you replied.

“Good girl,” she murmured, releasing your chin and stepping back. “Now, lie face down on the bed.”

You hesitated for a moment, but her look was enough to set you in motion.

“Lift your dress,” Wanda instructed, and you obeyed, feeling the cool air against your exposed skin.

She positioned herself beside you, letting the paddle rest lightly against your skin before speaking again. “I want you to count each one. And if you lose count… we start over.”

You nodded quickly, your face burning as much with shame as with anticipation.

The first strike came quickly, the sharp sound echoing through the room.

“One,” you managed to say, your voice slightly shaky.

“Good girl,” Wanda praised, her hand brushing softly over the warm skin before delivering the next strike.

Between strikes, Wanda made sure to speak. Not to humiliate you, but to reinforce the control she had over you—and the care that came with it.

“Do you think Yelena cares about you the way I do?” she asked, and before you could answer, the next strike fell.

“N-no,” you answered quickly, your tone almost desperate to please her.

“And Natasha? She doesn’t even know you. Do you think she could do what I do for you?”

“N-no,” you answered again, tears beginning to slip down your cheeks.

Wanda paused, her fingers gently running over the warm marks forming on your skin. She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice calm but full of intensity.

“I want you to understand something, little one. This,” she ran the tips of her fingers over the hottest point, making you shiver, “is not punishment for the sake of punishment. It’s not about how much it hurts or how beautifully marked your skin becomes. It’s about trust. About knowing that I’m here to discipline you, but also to protect you from yourself. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, Mommy,” you murmured, your voice still fragile.

She set the paddle aside and leaned down to whisper softly near your ear, her tone now gentler. “If at any point this becomes too much, what do you say?”

“Red,” you answered without hesitation.

“Good girl,” she praised, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your shoulder. “And if you need a break?”

“Yellow.”

“Exactly, good girl,” Wanda affirmed, her hand now caressing your back in slow, soothing strokes. “I adore you too much to ever truly hurt you, bunny. This isn’t about punishment for punishment’s sake. It’s about you learning, growing… and trusting.”

You turned your head slightly to look at her, eyes tearful but filled with something beyond pain—a sense of safety only Wanda could provide.

“I trust you,” you said, your voice stronger this time.

She smiled faintly, running her fingers through your hair before picking up the paddle again. “Then let’s continue, my sweet girl. You’re doing so well. We’ll finish this together, and afterward, I’ll take care of you the way you deserve.”

The next strike was firmer, but between each impact, Wanda checked on you—monitoring your breathing, whispering words of encouragement.

“Good girl,” she said after the sixth strike, setting the paddle down on the mattress beside you. “Very good. We’re done.”

You let out a sob, a mix of relief and exhaustion as your body relaxed onto the bed. Wanda didn’t waste a second—she immediately began massaging the tender spots with a cooling cream that seemed to soothe much of the lingering sting.

“You were so brave,” she praised, her voice so soft it felt like a balm for your heart. “So obedient. I’m so proud of you, little one.”

When she finished, she pulled you into her arms, cradling you against her while her fingers combed gently through your hair.

“You know why I do this, don’t you?” Wanda asked after a while, her tone full of warmth.

“Because you want to protect me,” you answered, your voice muffled against her chest.

“That’s right,” Wanda agreed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Because you are the best thing that’s happened to me in ten years, Y/n. And I will always take care of you—even when that means disciplining you.”

You closed your eyes, the sound of her heartbeat under your ear the most soothing melody you could imagine.

The kitchen was silent, except for the soft sound of Wanda's knife precisely slicing through a fresh fruit. The apples were cut into rabbit shapes in your honor, while the strawberries were stars—she was focused, her movements graceful and methodical. Each piece was carefully placed on a decorated plate, as though the presentation was just as important as the gesture itself. Beside it, a bowl of your favorite sweet was nearly finished, and Wanda allowed herself a small smile.

You were perfect for her. From the way your eyes sparkled when she praised you to how your body yielded, molding itself to her will. You were the exact combination of strength and vulnerability Wanda desired. More than that, you trusted her, surrendering yourself in a way that warmed her heart and sent possessive thoughts swirling through her mind.

“My little masterpiece,” Wanda murmured to herself, arranging the final details of the snack. She picked up a tray, placed a chilled water bottle alongside it, and gave it one last glance, satisfied with the result.

As she walked down the hallway toward your room, her heart felt light, anxious to find you nestled comfortably in her bed. Aftercare was just as important as any other part of your dynamic, and Wanda made sure you always knew how cherished you were.

But just as she was about to open the bedroom door, a familiar voice stopped her.

“Wanda.”

She froze, her fingers still gripping the tray. Turning slowly, she found Vision standing at the end of the hallway. He looked calm, but there was something in his expression that irritated her instantly.

“Yes?” Wanda replied, her voice cold and calculated.

“I was looking for you. We need to talk,” Vision said, taking a few steps toward her.

“Now?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, now.”

She gripped the tray tighter, fighting to keep her patience. Vision had a talent for showing up at the most inopportune moments. “Can’t it wait?”

“I don’t think so,” he replied, his voice carrying something Wanda couldn’t immediately identify.

She sighed, casting a glance at the closed bedroom door. You were inside, waiting for her, probably asleep or simply too tired to notice what was happening outside.

The man stared at her with a mixture of trepidation and expectation. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“Wanda, I… I miss you as my wife.” Vision spoke with a stiff posture.

Wanda scoffed, her husband always so puritanical and tedious.

“Vision, are you talking about sex?” Wanda asked, her face expressionless.

Vision hesitated, the words forming on his lips but refusing to come out. Wanda watched as he struggled to organize his thoughts, which made her roll her eyes. Always so methodical, so careful. She knew exactly where he was going, but she preferred to let him hang himself with his own hesitation.

“I… yes,” he finally admitted, his voice strained as though confessing something forbidden. “We haven’t shared intimacy in weeks, Wanda. This isn’t normal. Not for a couple.”

Wanda tilted her head slightly, her narrowed eyes fixed on him. The tension in the air was nearly palpable, and she let the silence stretch out just a moment longer, just to watch him squirm under her gaze.

“You’re really interrupting me right now to talk about sex?” she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “What do you want? Do you want me to bend over the kitchen table and let you take me from behind?” Wanda’s voice was robotic, devoid of emotion.

She watched the man’s face flush crimson. Oh, he wanted that.

Vision cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable with Wanda’s clinical tone. “I… I didn’t mean it like that. Wanda, it’s not just about the act itself; it’s about what it represents. Intimacy, connection. We were one. Now it feels like there’s an abyss between us.”

“An abyss,” she repeated, her voice still devoid of emotion. Wanda crossed her arms, leaning slightly against the doorframe of the bedroom. “Funny you use that word, Vision. Because if there’s an abyss, maybe you should ask yourself who dug it.”

His face grew even redder, now with barely contained indignation. “I’ve always done my best to sustain this family, Wanda. To be a present husband. If I’ve distanced myself, it was only to make sure you and the kids had everything you needed.”

Wanda scoffed, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward him, her steps silent but heavy with tension. “Everything I needed? You don’t even know what I need, Vision. You didn’t know in the beginning, and you certainly don’t know now.”

“Then tell me!” he raised his voice, desperation spilling over. “Tell me what you want, Wanda. Because I’m here, trying. Trying to save something I still believe is worth it.”

Wanda tilted her head slightly, watching him as though he were an incomplete puzzle. “Save what, exactly? A marriage built on conventions? On societal expectations? You’re not trying to save us, Vision. You’re trying to save the idea of me you created in your head.”

Vision stared at the floor, visibly uncomfortable. His eyes drifted to the tray in her hands, where affection and care were clear.

“Who is that for? The boys are still at school.”

Wanda held the tray firmly, her gaze cold and controlled as she looked away from Vision. “Y/n. She’s been studying so hard, she’s so exhausted…” Her expression softened slightly as she spoke about you, a feeling simmering in the man’s stomach.

He furrowed his brow, his expression mixing confusion with something that looked suspiciously like jealousy. “More than me?” The question came out in an almost childish tone, and Wanda had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

“Yes, more than you,” she answered with calculated calm. “And it’s not hard to see why.”

"But I’m your priority too, Wanda,” he insisted, his eyes gleaming with a kind of determination that felt misplaced, almost desperate. “We’re a family. And I feel like… like I’m being pushed aside.”

She tilted her head, her lips forming an ironic smile. “Pushed aside? Vision, you’re an adult, not one of the twins. Do you feel excluded because I’m not giving you unconditional attention like some kind of consolation prize?”

Vision clenched his fists, clearly trying to keep his composure. “I’m not asking for unconditional attention, Wanda. But since when do you give more importance to… this random stranger… than to our marriage?”

“Since you started treating our marriage as a duty instead of a choice,” she shot back, her voice soft but heavy with meaning. “People change, Vision. And honestly, I don’t have time to be your emotional crutch anymore.”

He blinked, visibly stunned by the statement. “So, you’re saying that—”

“I’m saying,” she interrupted, “that you need to stop acting like a child who lost his favorite toy. I have other responsibilities now, and you should find some of your own.”

Vision opened his mouth to respond but stopped when he caught the sharp glint in her eyes—a silent warning that he was treading too close to a line he shouldn’t cross.

“I just...” He took a deep breath, trying to reorganize his thoughts. “I just want to understand. Why is she so important to you? How can she be so important that she makes me feel like I no longer have a place here?”

She gripped the tray a little tighter, adjusting its weight in her hands. “It’s not something you need to understand, Vision. Just accept that not everything revolves around you.”

He stared at her, his face a mixture of frustration and pain, but finally, he took a step back. “I just wanted things to be like they were before.”

Wanda let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through her hair. “The problem, Vision, is that before was never enough. Not for you, and not for me. And maybe it’s time you stopped trying to revive something that’s already dead.”

She turned without waiting for a response, the soft sound of her steps echoing down the hall as she entered the room where you were waiting for her.

Vision stood frozen in place, his shoulders tense, his eyes locked on the closed door. As much as he wanted to scream, cry, or demand explanations, he knew, deep down, that Wanda was no longer his—and maybe she never had been.

As Wanda opened the door, the quiet stillness of the room was broken only by the sound of her measured, delicate steps. You were lying on the bed, your body relaxed in an almost vulnerable shape, with your eyes half-closed and your breathing deep and steady. It was clear that the impact of what you had shared earlier still lingered over you, like a mist refusing to lift.

“Hi, bunny,” her voice came soft yet firm, like a warm blanket on a cold day.

You lifted your eyes to her, your face lighting up with a mix of relief and adoration. “Wanda…” your voice came out small, almost trembling, but filled with trust in her presence.

“I brought something for you,” she said, balancing the tray as she approached the bed. Her movements were calculated, each gesture filled with care and intention.

When she set the tray on the nightstand beside the bed, you sat up slightly, your curious eyes drifting to the snacks carefully arranged there—your favorites, each detail chosen with precision. There were soft cookies, neatly cut fruit, and a mug of hot chocolate topped with a dollop of whipped cream.

“All this for me?” you asked, your voice a bit brighter now, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“All for you,” Wanda confirmed, sitting beside you on the bed. She picked up one of the cookies and held it near your lips. “Open,” she instructed gently, and you obeyed without hesitation, biting into the treat with a satisfied sigh.

“Thank you, Wanda…” you murmured as you chewed, your eyes shimmering with gratitude.

She smiled, leaning in to fix the messy strands of hair around your face. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“My butt still hurts,” you admitted with a small grimace, the ache fresh as you shifted slightly.

“Oh. Don’t move, Y/n!” she commanded firmly. “You’ll make it worse. Stay here, darling. I’ll get the lotion.” Wanda stood up quickly, leaving you alone with the tray. You started nibbling on the egg tart—it was light and creamy—Wanda had great hands, for everything.

Wanda returned a few minutes later, holding a small bottle of lotion and a damp towel. She sat next to you again, her concerned expression softening into a warm smile. “I told you not to move, bunny. Are you trying to challenge me again?”

You let out a small giggle, taking another bite of the tart before replying, “I just wanted to taste it before it got cold. It’s perfect, like everything you make.”

She rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched with a smile. “Flirting with me isn’t going to get you out of this, little one. Now, roll over. Let’s take care of you.”

Carefully, you turned onto your stomach, feeling the softness of the mattress against your body as Wanda lifted the hem of your nightgown, exposing your still-warm, sensitive skin. She opened the bottle of lotion, the calming scent filling the room.

“This might feel a little cold at first,” she warned before gently applying the cream to the reddened area.

You shivered at the cool touch but soon relaxed under the slow, careful movements of her hands. Wanda massaged with precision, her fingers firm yet incredibly tender.

“Better?” she asked, her eyes flicking between your face and her work.

“Yes…” you murmured, your voice thick with a mix of relief and something deeper—an absolute trust in her.

Taking care of you, especially after such intense moments, was something Wanda valued deeply. It was as if that aftercare ritual was the bridge between dominance and affection, showing that even in moments of discipline, love always came first.

As she finished, wiping away the excess lotion with the damp towel, Wanda spoke softly: “You know this is just as important to me as it is to you, right?”

You lifted your head slightly, curious. “What is important to you, Wanda?”

“This,” she said, gesturing to the moment you shared. “Taking care of you. Knowing that, even when I have to be firm, you trust me to bring you back. To keep you safe, comfortable. That’s what makes it all… right.”

Her words warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t quite explain. “I trust you, Wanda. Always.”

She smiled softly, leaning down to press a light kiss to your back. “Good girl,” she murmured before pulling your nightgown back down and helping you roll onto your back again.

“Now, finish your snack, bunny,” she instructed, sitting beside you once more.

You obeyed, nibbling on a cookie as Wanda gently ran her fingers through your hair. The quiet exchange of looks and smiles spoke volumes about how much that moment meant to both of you.

Once the tray was empty, Wanda helped you settle into the soft, clean sheets, adjusting the pillows around you. She lay down beside you, wrapping her arms around you like you were the most precious treasure.

As your breathing began to match hers, Wanda started humming softly, her fingertips tracing gentle patterns along your arm. “You’re mine,” she whispered, with a hint of reverence in her voice. “Always.”

You mumbled something incoherent, already half-asleep, but your last words before drifting off were clear: “Wanda… thank you.”

And as Wanda stayed there, watching over your sleep, she knew that in that space of trust and love, you were both exactly where you were meant to be.

[...]

The warm water of the bathtub enveloped both of you like a comforting embrace. The foam gently rose around your bodies, a perfect contrast to the steam that filled the bathroom. You were seated between Wanda’s legs, your back against her chest, as she delicately ran her fingers through your damp hair, untangling any knots with care.

“Is this good, bunny?” Wanda’s voice was almost a whisper, soft and full of affection.

You nodded, closing your eyes for a moment as you enjoyed her touch. “More than good,” you replied, feeling completely relaxed.

But there was something more in the air—an idea that had been growing in your mind for some time. You shifted slightly, tilting your head back to look at her. “Wanda?”

“Hm?” She arched an eyebrow, her gaze playing between curiosity and a hint of concern.

“Can I… take care of you this time?” Your question came out hesitant, almost fearful, but it was something you wanted to offer her: the same kind of love and attention she always gave you.

For a moment, Wanda was silent. Her green eyes searched yours, evaluating something. Then, a small smile formed on her lips. “You want that?”

“I do. Very much.”

She exhaled slowly, as if your request had melted a part of the wall she so carefully kept up. “Alright, bunny. But take it slow, okay?”

You smiled, thrilled that she had accepted. Slowly, you sat up a bit, picking up the soft sponge beside the tub. You dipped it into the warm water, lathering it with her favorite lavender soap. Wanda watched every movement with curiosity and a touch of amusement.

“Close your eyes,” you instructed, your voice low but determined.

She obeyed, a rare act of submission coming from her, trusting that you would handle everything with the care she deserved. You gently ran the sponge over her shoulders, feeling the tense muscles gradually relax under your touch.

“You carry so much tension here,” you commented, almost absentmindedly, as you massaged lightly.

“Someone has to take care of you,” Wanda replied with a playful tone, though there was something genuine in her words.

“And who takes care of you?” you asked in return, sincerity evident in your tone.

She opened her eyes, staring at you for a moment. “Maybe that’s what I’m discovering now.”

Your heart did a little jump, but you focused back on what you were doing. The sponge traveled down her arms, then across her back, each movement deliberate and gentle. When you finished, you took a bit of shampoo and began massaging it into her scalp with your fingers.

Wanda sighed, closing her eyes again. “This… this is good,” she admitted, her voice a bit lower, almost vulnerable.

You smiled, enchanted by the idea of providing something so simple yet meaningful for her. As you carefully rinsed her hair, Wanda opened her eyes, looking at you in a way that was both soft and intense.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, bunny?”

“Maybe I learned from you,” you replied, shy but satisfied.

When you finally finished, Wanda pulled you back into her arms, now with both of you completely relaxed. “Thank you,” she said, kissing the top of your head gently.

You rested your head on her shoulder, your hands intertwined beneath the water. The comfortable silence that followed seemed to say more than words. For the first time, perhaps, Wanda had allowed someone to take care of her—and you felt honored to be that person.

Wanda sat with her eyes closed, her body relaxed against the edge of the bathtub, while you positioned yourself behind her, your legs lightly wrapping around her waist. The sponge in your hand had been forgotten for a moment; your attention was entirely on Wanda, on every line of tension her body carried.

“I’m going to give you a massage,” you announced softly, your voice low and filled with care.

“Oh, are you?” she murmured, her tone playful but carrying genuine curiosity. “And do you know what you’re doing, bunny?”

“I’ll figure it out,” you replied with a shy smile, as your hands began moving slowly over her shoulders.

At first, your touches were hesitant but firm. Your fingers explored each knot of tension, applying enough pressure to relieve but not cause discomfort. Wanda let out an almost inaudible sigh, and you felt her body start to relax even more under your touch.

“You’re so tense,” you commented, your fingers moving to the base of her neck, massaging with slow, circular motions.

“Your fault,” she replied without opening her eyes, though the smile on her lips was obvious.

“Mine?”

“Yes,” Wanda answered, a hint of amusement in her voice. “You’re an unbearably mischievous little bunny.”

You chuckled softly but didn’t reply, focusing on the massage. Your hands glided over her shoulder blades, tracing the defined muscles with care. The water made every movement more fluid, as if your fingers were dancing over her skin.

“You’re really good at this,” Wanda murmured, her voice lower now, almost husky.

Her tone caught your attention. There was something there—something you hadn’t expected. Your hands hesitated for a moment, but Wanda didn’t seem to want you to stop. She tilted her head slightly to the side, allowing your fingers to explore more of her neck.

“Keep going,” she said, almost like an order, and you obeyed without question.

Your confidence grew by the second. Your hands moved down her sides, exploring more boldly. Your fingers traced paths that made Wanda’s breathing change subtly. It was almost imperceptible, but you noticed—her rhythm slowed, deepened.

When your hands reached the curve of her ribs, you heard a low sound escape her lips, something between a sigh and a restrained moan. Your heart raced, but you continued, as if it were innocent.

Your hands massaged the woman's medium-sized breasts with prominent nipples, taking the opportunity to squeeze them between your fingers—a little pain wouldn't hurt her, you thought.

“Careful, little girl.” Wanda's voice was already hoarse and her hips were wavering, seeking more and more of your touch. “I can demand more than you can handle giving me.”

As a response to the woman, your hands went down to her belly, running your fingers between the already lubricated lips of her pussy. Wanda gasped, opening herself up more—giving you access to do whatever you wanted.

The woman's trust in you made you feel many things. The responsibility you carried with this didn't pressure you or make you want to run—in fact, that was what you wanted all along.

To be able to take care of her, to be able to touch her, caress her, lick her until Wanda melted on your tongue.

“Put a finger in, honey.” Hearing the woman's command, you tense behind her. Your inexperience made you doubt your ability. What if you didn't please her? What if you hurt her?

“Shh… Sweetheart…” Wanda breathed, the scent of lavender clinging to her skin, making you dizzy. “I know… Mommy will guide you.” She reassured you, after all, you knew that Wanda held all the control—that wouldn't change now.

Inserting a finger inside Wanda, you heard the woman let out a shaky sigh—you were attentive to her every reaction. Your passion, your madness for her, only increased the obsession you felt for Wanda.

“One more.” She demanded. And you moaned as you felt her pussy throbbing—as if it had a direct connection to your pussy, you felt your own intimacy throbbing.

The older woman's moans were low, hoarse. They were delirious because your fingers, at a slow pace, were taking her to a state of ecstasy that she had not felt in a long time. Wanda wanted to feel everything, every inch of your fingers.

“One more.” You were surprised to hear her beg for another finger.

Adding the third finger, what was already tight became unbearable—Wanda’s warm, spongy walls trapping you inside her.

“It’s so tight…” You let out a small growl against her ear, making her let out a small giggle.

“I know, don’t you? This is how I feel inside you every time, baby. Throbbing and hot and beautiful against my fingers, my tongue and my cock…” She started to ride you faster, and you knew she was close.

Then, you press your finger on her clit, making her buck against you and grip the edge of the tub with her wrinkled fingers. Wanda turns her face, enough to look into your eyes and give you a naughty smile as she reaches orgasm.

“Oh. My baby makes me feel so good!” She moans loudly, shakily.

Once it was over, you hugged her tightly and watched as Wanda gave you a teasing look and a tired smile. “I’m losing myself in you, Y/N.” The woman leaned even deeper into your embrace—making the bath water even hotter.

The afternoon was calm, and sunlight streamed through the living room window, illuminating the rug where you sat with Billy and Tommy. The colorful puzzle spread out in front of you occupied the twins' full attention, but you wore the smile of someone who didn’t need to worry about pieces or edges. Being there with them was all you needed.

Billy was focused, his eyes squinting as he studied the pieces. Tommy, on the other hand, seemed more interested in teasing his brother. He grabbed a piece Billy was trying to fit and laughed, holding it out of his reach.

“Tommy, give it back,” you said, laughing lightly as Billy huffed.

“Fine, fine,” Tommy grumbled, handing over the piece.

“Thanks,” Billy muttered, fitting the piece into place. “There, another part of the tree!”

You all sat in silence for a moment, focused on the puzzle, until Billy, with a thoughtful voice, broke the calm atmosphere.

“Do you think it’s weird… to like boys?”

The question hung in the air like a piece out of place, and you looked at him gently, not showing surprise. Tommy stopped fiddling with the pieces, his brow furrowing.

“Why are you asking that?” Tommy said, tilting his head.

Billy shrugged, but there was a blush on his cheeks. “It’s just that, you know… I heard some boys at school talking about it. Saying it’s weird.”

You took a deep breath, leaning closer to him, trying to keep your tone as light as possible. “It’s not weird, Billy. It’s normal. Some people like boys, some like girls, some like both… and that’s okay. What matters is how you feel.”

Billy seemed to reflect on this, his fingers playing with a puzzle piece. “I don’t think I feel anything different. Like… being around boys or girls feels the same to me. Does that mean anything?”

“It means you’re figuring out who you are,” you replied with a smile. “And that takes time. You don’t need to rush or worry about what other people say. What’s important is being honest with yourself.”

Tommy frowned, thoughtful. “So… if I thought a boy was cute, it wouldn’t be weird?”

“Of course not,” you answered, ruffling his hair playfully. “Thinking someone is cute is just… thinking someone is cute. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Billy smiled shyly. “I like the way you talk about this… like it’s not complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be complicated,” you said, picking up a puzzle piece and fitting it into place. “Love, friendship, attraction… all of that is about connection. And connection is never wrong, as long as it’s healthy and respectful.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile at the corner of his lips. “You sound like Mom sometimes. I think you’re picking up her way of talking.”

You laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Speaking of which, how about we finish this puzzle before she gets home? I want her to see how well we worked as a team.”

Billy and Tommy agreed, turning back to the puzzle, but the mood felt lighter now. Even without saying much more, it was clear that the conversation had left the twins more comfortable, and that was all you could ask for.

Minutes later, still engrossed, Billy looked at you, his eyes bright with curiosity, and Tommy quickly followed, leaning forward with a mischievous grin.

“What about you, Y/n?” Billy asked, turning a puzzle piece in his hands. “Do you like boys or girls… or both?”

The question caught you by surprise. Your body froze for a moment, but then you laughed softly, trying not to show any nervousness.

“I only like girls,” you answered simply and directly, not looking away from them.

The two brothers exchanged a meaningful look. Billy seemed thoughtful for a moment, while Tommy, always more impulsive, spoke first.

“Oh, sorry for always saying you should get a boyfriend,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “We didn’t know.”

Billy nodded seriously, his tone equally earnest. “Yeah, sorry, Y/n. But… we can look for a girlfriend for you, if you want!”

The declaration was so unexpected that you were speechless for a few seconds, your mouth opening and closing as if trying to process it. Your face grew hot, and you laughed nervously, looking back at the puzzle.

“Oh, there’s no need for that, boys,” you said, waving your hands. “I can handle it myself.”

“But we’re good at this,” Tommy insisted, a spark of excitement in his eyes. “We know lots of cool girls!”

Billy nodded, eager.

“Yeah, like Amy from the chess team. She likes Star Wars, just like you. Or Harper, who did that amazing project on botany. She’s really smart.”

“And she has pretty hair,” Tommy added, as if that was a decisive factor.

You laughed, covering your face with your hands while shaking your head. “You two are impossible.”

“Why? We just want to help!” Tommy protested, crossing his arms as he pretended to be offended.

Billy smiled slyly, winking at you. “We just want you to be happy, Y/n.”

Your heart tightened in your chest at their sweetness. You reached out, pulling both of them into a tight hug.

“You two already make me so happy, you know that?” you said, squeezing them a little harder. “I don’t need anything else.”

Tommy squirmed in the hug, but you noticed the smile on his face.

“Okay, okay, but if you change your mind, we’re here.”

“For sure,” Billy agreed with a serious nod.

You laughed again, returning to the puzzle with a warmed heart. Moments like this made you realize just how much you loved those boys and how much they cared about you, too.

[...]

The room was immersed in a comfortable darkness, lit only by the glow of the TV. You were lying with your legs stretched out on the couch, your head resting on Wanda's lap, while she absently played with a lock of your hair. The movie was already coming to an end, but neither of you seemed to be paying much attention to it.

“This movie is so… predictable,” Wanda commented, her voice low and lazy. “The heroine always forgives the hero, no matter how stupid he is.”

You let out a laugh, tilting your head to look at her. “That's because everyone loves a happy ending. Don't you?”

“I like realistic endings,” Wanda replied with an enigmatic smile. “But if you like them, I can make an effort.”

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the air seemed heavier, charged with a tension you didn't quite know how to define. Wanda's smile softened, but her gaze remained intense, almost daring you to break the silence.

You couldn't resist. Sitting up, you leaned towards her, and before you could think too much, your lips met. The kiss started slow, as if you were still exploring the terrain, but it quickly became deeper, more urgent. Wanda's hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, while you intertwined your fingers in her hair, feeling the soft texture between your fingers.

The sound of the phone ringing echoed through the room, drawing a frustrated sigh from both of you. You tried to ignore it, but Wanda, with a mischievous smile, broke the kiss and murmured against your lips: "Go answer it. It might be important."

You huffed, rolling your eyes before picking up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, daughter! It's me!" your mother's excited voice sounded on the other end of the line.

"Hi, mom," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady as Wanda took advantage of your distraction to trace a slow path with her hand down your body, reaching your belly.

"How are things? Are you behaving at Wanda's house?"

You bit your lip to keep from sighing as Wanda’s hand slid down to your clit, massaging it deliberately. “It’s okay, mom. I’m… behaving, yes.”

“Great! Because I’ll be there in three days. I’ve already organized everything.”

“Three days?” you repeated, trying to keep your tone neutral as you felt Wanda’s teeth gently nibble on your ear.

“Yes! I want to spend some time with you and see how this coexistence is going. Is Wanda there? Tell her I sent my regards.”

You looked at Wanda, who now had a mischievous smile on her lips as she increased the intensity of the caresses on your hot button.

“She… y-yes. I’ll tell her.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, honey? Your voice is a little hoarse.” You look at Wanda as if you wanted to kill her.

“Y-yes, mom. I was… sleeping, I’m sleeping. And you woke me up.” Wanda's mouth gliding along the length of your neck, she sucks on your pulse point, making you bite your lip hard to keep from moaning.

“Oh, sorry! The jet lag has been driving me crazy. But that's great! Oh, and don't forget to pack your things. I want everything to be in order when I get here.”

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the conversation as Wanda touched you, her fingers playing with your warm entrance, already ready for her. Your whole body reacted, and it was hard not to let out a sound.

“Okay, Mom. I'll… I'll fix it.” Your voice wavered, but you managed to compose yourself quickly.

"Good night, daughter. Take care.”

“Good n-night, Mom.”

As soon as you hung up the phone, Wanda laughed softly, the sound echoing through the room. “You did well,” she teased, her hand still in the same place.

“Wanda!” you exclaimed, trying to sound serious, but the nervous laugh escaped before you could stop it.

“I just wanted to see how much you could concentrate,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss your neck, the touch sending waves of heat through your body. “Looks like you passed the test.”

“You’re impossible,” you said, but you did nothing to push her away, letting yourself be carried away by the sensation as she picked up where the phone had left off.

“Mmm, my good girl!” she pulled you onto her lap to continue her caresses.

“Hm, mommy… I want to watch the movie.” You murmured, already opening your legs for her, all naughty.

“Oh. Do you want to? Then watch, Dekta.” She said as she went down with her mouth to find the little button she loved so much. “But let mommy have fun.”

It didn’t take much, just for Wanda to scrape her teeth on your clitoris and lick your anus for your legs to start shaking uncontrollably.

Entangling you in her arms, Wanda kisses the top of your head and then gives you a knowing smile.

“Hmm, so you mean my little girl likes having her ass kissed?” Wanda pinches your belly, making you squeak—still sensitive from the orgasm. “You’re so naughty.”

She laughs when you hide in the crook of her neck, running away from her gaze. “Oh, is my little girl embarrassed when mommy says dirty things now? Funny… It didn’t seem like that when I had my mouth on yours—” You interrupt Wanda’s speech with your hand over her mouth.

“Mommy!” She laughs even more, squeezing you tighter against her.

Wanda was still smiling when you hid your face in her neck again, trying to escape her teasing. It was a genuine smile, one of those that light up the entire face, but it couldn’t hide the look in her eyes. Wanda's eyes, for a brief moment, lost their mischievous glint and became soft—gentle in a way she didn’t always allow herself to show. She felt the weight of your body still pressed against hers, warm, pliant, trusting her in such a pure way that it made her heart float.

And ache.

Wanda's fingers began to slowly glide across your back, as if she needed to memorize every contour, every inch she touched. She felt you sigh softly, completely unaware of the turbulent thoughts in her mind. It was impossible to avoid; Wanda knew that one day this would come to an end. One day, you wouldn’t be there, sprawled in her lap, with flushed cheeks and eyes sparkling with happiness. One day, your parents would come back and you would leave. One day, you would go to college, make new friends, live your life... without her.

For a moment, Wanda almost couldn’t breathe. Her chest tightened, a strange, almost unbearable sensation. She lowered her gaze to you, watching your serene face and cheeks still slightly reddened. So young, so full of life. So perfect. Her heart leaped, and the tears came before she could stop them.

You noticed, of course. You always noticed when something changed in her.

“Wanda?” Your voice sounded soft, almost worried, as you pulled back just enough to look at her face. “What happened?”

Wanda blinked a few times, as if trying to push the tears away before they fell, but it was no use. She smiled, even with her eyes shining and her chest tight. A sweet, genuine smile, but one heavy with emotion.

“I just…” She paused, took a deep breath, and delicately ran her fingers through your hair, brushing a few strands away from your face. “I just… adore you so much. Never forget that.”

You furrowed your brows, a shy smile appearing on your lips as you looked at her with an expression that mixed affection and surprise. “Wanda, what’s this talk about? I won’t forget.”

Wanda nodded, but deep down, that thought continued to torment her. How could she explain to you that she had never felt this way for anyone? That you had crossed all the barriers she had spent years building? That, for the first time, the fear of losing someone left her paralyzed?

She didn’t explain. Instead, she pulled you closer to her chest, as if that hug could keep everything just as it was, frozen in time.

“I just needed to say it,” she murmured, kissing the top of your head again. “Because sometimes you make me feel things I didn’t know existed. And I don’t want you to doubt that.”

You smiled, snuggling even closer against her, not understanding the full weight of the words, but feeling the affection overflow in every gesture. Wanda closed her eyes, letting a few more tears fall silently. Because in that moment, as you lay in her arms, she realized—she loved you.

And nothing, absolutely nothing, would be the same after that.

[...]

Vision sat in the office, an untouched glass of wine on the table before him. The house was silent, except for the occasional sounds coming from upstairs. He knew it was Wanda moving around up there, probably with you. That realization bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Wanda was never a woman who accepted being tamed. From the moment he met her, it was clear that she was strong, independent, and would never bow to the molds her family or the church expected. That was part of what attracted him, though it was also the reason for so many conflicts at the beginning of their marriage.

Their marriage was never about love or passion; it was a strategic alliance. Wanda's family, of traditional and conservative origins, wanted to keep her on the “right path,” while Vision, a businessman with a good reputation in the community, needed a wife who symbolized the perfect balance of strength and submission to uphold his public image. Wanda, perhaps tired of the pressures, agreed. “I’ll marry you, but you’ll never control me,” she had said with a defiant smile the day they struck the deal. He had laughed at the time, thinking it was a joke. Today, that phrase felt like a prophecy.

Vision ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. He had always known Wanda wasn’t the devoted wife his friends and colleagues had. She was cold but courteous in public. She respected commitments but didn’t engage. He thought that would be enough, because he didn’t love her either. The marriage was comfortable, functional. But now, with you in the equation, everything was changing.

Over the last few months, he had noticed the transformation. Wanda was more attentive, more present—but not with him. She reserved that for you. There was something in her eyes when she looked at you, something he had never seen when she looked at him. Vision didn’t know exactly what it was, but he knew it deeply unsettled him.

Staring at the wall of his office, his thoughts raced. But the silence in his heart was heavy. Then his mind whispered: “Take control, Vision. Wanda is yours! Your property.”

The word “property” echoed in Vision’s mind, bringing a mix of indignation and shame. He had never liked the idea of seeing Wanda as something that could be possessed. But now, he couldn’t ignore the jealousy burning in his chest.

He sat in silence, replaying memories of when he met Wanda. She was undeniably brilliant, with an intelligence and charisma that intimidated him. Vision had always known Wanda was superior to him in many ways, but he thought marriage would balance that, offering her structure and a respectable name, while he gained the perfect wife to reinforce his public image.

What he didn’t expect was that Wanda would find in you something he could never offer. Vision didn’t know exactly what that was, but it made him feel irrelevant—and, for the first time, unbearably vulnerable.

“Wanda…” he murmured to himself, staring at the still-untouched glass of wine. He knew he needed to act, but how? How could he confront someone he never truly managed to understand?

Deep down, Vision knew his marriage was falling apart. And worse, he knew he might never have truly possessed Wanda—not as a wife, not as a partner. She had always belonged to herself. And now, it seemed she had found someone she wanted to share that with.

~*~

And then you ask me: Clara, can we start crying now? YESSSS

UNREVISED CHAPTER

Tag List <3

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#mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #mommy k!nk #lgbtq #elizabeth olsen x reader #lgbtqia #mommy k1nk #wanda x you #wlw post #lesbianism #lesbian

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writtenwhalien · 3 months ago

Text

a lover's redemption | prologue

part i. prologue

pairing ↠ mafia leader!park jimin x reader

genre ↠ mafia AU — romance/action (angst, fluff, smut)

summary ↠ Blood, business and betrayal is all that Park Jimin has ever known, but when you cross paths again, the stakes are raised even higher and he finds himself battling his conscience, and his heart.

word count ↠ 6.3k

18+ | warnings ↠ drinking, explicit sexual content, all sorts of crime (please see the series masterlist for a complete list of warnings).

taglist is open – dm/comment/send an ask to be added <3

notes ↠ please enjoy and share xoxoxox chapter 1 coming next tuesday evening! <3

*important* the flashback is pretty much the same as the teaser but keep reading because most of what comes after it is new :)

29th June 2009

Sehun was tired. His day was dragging on and the throbbing in his head only seemed to get worse by the hour. All he really wanted was to spend the rest of his evening at home with his family, to hug his wife, and listen to you talk about your day, but he was still stuck here. Lines creased his forehead as he sat across from the two men he has only ever called his closest friends – brothers – yet these days, it seems less so.

“This isn’t what we agreed,” he said, lowering his voice.

Neither of the two men said anything at first, certainly having expected this response. Lee Han-Jae at least had the decency to look somewhat concerned by Sehun’s disapproval, reaching forward to pour himself a drink.

“It’s wrong, we don’t do stuff like this, it’s more for the likes of the Takahashi or the Cheong’s,” Sehun pressed. “Not us, never us.”

Lee Han-jae was the first to speak. “But what if it is us?”

If Sehun hadn’t known the man for long, he wouldn’t have been able to detect the impatience hidden behind the curiosity in his tone. But he had, he’d known him for nineteen years.

Han-jae slid the drink in front of Sehun instead.“We have all the power to help these people, we can do this.” He glanced sideways to the third man in the room.��

Cold eyes and hard set features, Park Jihoon merely nodded before speaking. “He’s right, Sehun,” he said, unmoving in his seat. His eyes were focused on your father. “And it only puts us at an advantage. Everyone will be on our side.”

“Everyone’s already on our side,” Sehun said, impatience cutting through his tone. “We don’t need this, it’s not right.”

“We’ve already spoken to all the families involved. They’ve agreed on the price and most of them are happy to proceed—”

“They’ve agreed to sell their own family into prostitution to make their debts disappear?” Sehun interrupted sharply, missing the way Jihoon’s fingers curled into his fist.

Han-jae paused, eyes flickering with brief uncertainty as his lifelong best friend looked at him in anger. “Don’t say it like that, we’re not criminals, it’s not like we’re forcing them–”

Sehun’s patience was running short. “You’re giving them no choice, it’s either this, or you kill them, right?”

“No.” Han-jae’s gaze sharpened. “We’re setting them up for a better life than those kids would ever have, and with the nightclub we can legitimize our money, that’s what you wanted, is it not?”

Releasing a sigh, Sehun leaned back into the leather couch. “Not like this. Under our names the club will be successful enough, we don’t need to buy innocent men and women from these desperate families to make it better—”

“We’re not buying them,” Jihoon cut in calmly. “Their service is owed to us.”

The nonchalance in Jihoon’s tone flared anger in Sehun. “No, the service of criminals who have wronged us is what is owed to us, not of their innocent family members,” he responded, looking between his two friends. “How would you feel if it was Jimin?” he asked Jihoon before turning to Han-jae. “Or Taemin?”

Jihoon’s expression remained unchanged, however Han-jae sighed, pouring himself another drink. No one said anything as he emptied his glass, and when he finished, he still seemed unsure.

“They’ll do better under our watch. We’ll give them housing, an education, more money than they’ll ever see in their lifetime if they are to stay living as they are now.”

“No,” Sehun shook his head. “If you really cared about helping them then you would give them that without asking them to live a life indebted to you.”

“So what do you suggest we do then?” Jihoon asked, only now sitting forward as he tilted his head, awaiting an answer.

“Find some other way for the men to pay the debts. We never have any shortage of dirty work that needs doing, they can be tasked to those jobs,” your father answered swiftly.

Han-jae and Jihoon looked at each other for only a brief second before Jihoon nodded and sat back again.

“Alright,” Han-jae said quietly, looking back at your father. “We’ll try to stop it.”

“Try?”

“The kids have already been moved to a remote location—”

“Then bring them back.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Oh come on, Han-jae,” Sehun couldn’t help but scoff. “You speak of being the most powerful man in Seoul and yet you can’t stop an operation you’ve started.”

“Will you help us then?” Jihoon asked as though testing how far his friend is willing to go.

“Of course,” your father’s answer came with no hesitation, his heart hurting as he thought of you in the same position as those kids. “Whatever you need.”

“Very well then,” Jihoon said, looking at Han-jae and raising his glass. “We bring them back.”

It was an hour later that Sehun could tell that something was up, and it was Jimin who made him realize.

Halfway through dinner, Han-jae received a text. “Gentlemen,” he said, clearing his throat and wiping his mouth. “I’ll have to excuse myself momentarily to deal with some business for the house.” He got up and looked at his son. “Taemin, come with me.”

Taemin nodded, getting up and doing as he was told.

As Sehun watched Taemin leave, he didn’t see Jihoon and Han-jae exchange glances, however he looked back and saw Jimin staring down at his plate, jaw tight and fist clenched on the table unlike moments prior.

No one else was paying him any attention as Han-jae and Taemin left the room, leaving Sehun with Jimin and Jihoon, as well as a few of the other Lee men. Jihoon carried on eating, his knife cutting into his steak as Sehun watched him and Jimin.

Then, Jimin looked up and accidentally met Sehun’s gaze.

He swallowed, eyes telling far too much before he blinked and looked away.

He said his goodbyes, allowing Han-jae and Taemin to walk him out to his car before he got in and drove off the property, but Sehun didn’t go home later that night.

Parking off on a quiet road less than a mile out and hidden from sight, he got out of his car and went to the trunk, opening up a hidden compartment at the bottom and pulling out his hand gun. It took him no more than twenty minutes to get back to the property, evading all the security measures he was familiar with since he had them for his own home, and slipped into the back of the courtyard.

He stayed quiet, hiding behind some of the foliage decorating the yard, and for a moment, there was nothing. Just the steady blowing of the wind through the trees surrounding the property. He didn’t know exactly what he was waiting for, he just knew it was something. Then he heard it.

Harsh whispering and muffled sounds coming down the steps of the back entrance. One look up and his heart froze when he saw someone being dragged out of the house, mouth gagged and hands tied yet she still fought as hard as she could. But there were three men dragging her to the car, struggling, however still succeeding to throw her into the trunk, and then Sehun saw her face.

He felt a rush of emotions — anger, betrayal, disappointment and determination — when he realised it was Ji-young being thrown into the car.

Sehun always had his suspicions that Han-jae cared little for his step-daughter from his late wife who he also cared little for, especially considering he isn’t Ji-young’s father, but he never would have expected his friend to do something like this.

At that moment, he knew that his friends lied to him, and Han-jae was meaning to send Ji-young away to the same fate as those others.

So Sehun did what he had to do, unknowingly sealing his fate, and that of your family by saving Ji-young behind Han-jae’s back.

It was easy enough to take out the first two men as they made their way back into the house, unaware of their surroundings. He used his pocket knife, a clean cut to the throat so they couldn’t cry out and draw any attention. He shoved their bodies onto the grass before trailing alongside the car to get to the third guy climbing into the driver’s seat.

With great force, Sehun pulled the guy out of the car, slamming him into the side of the vehicle. The man had some weight on Sehun but not much skill. As he tried to grab his gun, Sehun jabbed him hard in the neck before taking the gun and slamming the butt end into his face a few times.

His body fell to the floor with a heavy thud and Sehun was well aware that the sound of the scuffle would have grabbed the attention of someone nearby – he needed to hurry.

Wiping the spattered blood from his face, he rushed to the trunk. Ji-young trembled, wailing into the cloth tied around her mouth as she looked up at your father. Relief instantly flooded her features as she recognised him.

“It’s okay,” Sehun shushed her gently, working as fast as he could to untie her hands. “Get in the back of the car, I’m right here, okay? We need to get you away from here.”

Ji-young nodded frantically, tears staining her cheeks. “O-okay.” She wiped her tears away, pulling off the last of the bonds as Sehun rushed to pick up the first of the bodies from the floor.

He struggled while dragging the first to the trunk, but as he started shoving it into the car, Jiyoung was there helping him. He paused, looking at her warily. She simply nodded, averting her eyes away from the dead body in front of her to finish shoving the man’s legs inside the trunk.

Together, they got the bodies in the trunk and within a few minutes, they were driving off the Lee property and into the night.

present day

The loud bang echoes across the space but you don’t wait for the sound to settle. Pushing your index finger down, you take another shot, and another, and another.

Time passes quickly when you're here, ten minutes quickly turning into an hour. You stay for as long as it takes for you to feel lighter, more sure of yourself.

Lowering the gun onto the table, you let your shoulder relax as you try to scrutinise the target fifty yards ahead of you, before turning away to head towards the door leading out of the range. However, before you even get there, you pause.

Yoongi stands ahead of you, leaning against the wall. He gives you a small smile when you look his way, but there’s no hiding the solemn expression his face shows. Letting out a small sigh, you nod, motioning for him to walk out with you.

Once out of the range, you pull your ear defenders off while Yoongi takes the gun from you to safely return.

“You’ve improved,” he muses, nodding in acknowledgement to the staffer who checks off the weapon.

Slipping into your jacket, you glance across at him. “You think so?”

“Mhm,” he nods, stepping towards the exit and placing his hands in his trouser pockets as he faces you. Yoongi has always been one to dress smart no matter what the occasion. “You always used to miss the mark by half an inch, now you’re almost there.” He smiles again, this time a bit brighter.

Shooting him a playful look, you respond while grabbing the last of your belongings, “I’m just out of practice, it's been a while.”

“Ah, well it’s a good thing you’ve started again,” he says, this time his voice is lower, making you look up at him. He’s no longer smiling and he doesn't try to disguise his concern. Your expression falls in response and a silent exchange passes between you.

“Not here,” he mutters, nodding towards the door.

Less than fifteen minutes later, you find yourself seated outside a convenience store with him, sipping on some chocolate milk. You take long sips, wondering what it could be; truthfully, you’re not sure if you really want to know. Yoongi says nothing until you ask him first, so with a quiet sigh, you place your half full carton down on the table.

“Tell me,” you say quietly, “What is it this time?”

Yoongi lowers his carton too, fingers twiddling with the straw. “The Cheong’s are back on the street,” he says, cutting to the chase as he always does (and you prefer it that way). “They intercepted a cargo shipment that was meant to dock at Gwangyang Port for DK Pharmaceuticals yesterday.”

“What was in the shipment?”

“Opioids.”

A sigh escapes you. That’s the last thing you hoped it was; you would’ve preferred it to be a shipment of handguns. Opioids back on the streets only means that the rich are preying on the weak and vulnerable again.

“Is anyone doing anything about it?”

Yoongi pauses, looking at you in apprehension. “I thought I’d come to you first.” You’re about to say something but Yoongi quickly continues. “I know you’re trying to get out of it but you helped me out a lot last time and I could really use your help now. No one knows you’re back in Seoul and that puts us at an advantage.”

“No one except you,” you note, watching your friend steadily.

“No one except me,” he repeats. “I’m taking your secret to the grave with me.”

You nod in acknowledgement, picking up your carton to take another long sip. “What about your people?” you ask.

Yoongi gives you a weary look. Despite how close the two of you are, Yoongi is especially secretive about who he works for – you know that they’re no doubt linked to the life you grew up in, the one that you’re still evidently caught up in, but you don’t know who. You never press him to know though; you understand the need for secrecy and in some ways are grateful for it – there’s a lot Yoongi doesn’t tell you and it’s his way of protecting you.

“There’s other stuff going on,” he answers quietly. “It’s a lot.”

The statement naturally piques your interest. “Like what?”

A small smile appears on Yoongi’s lips. “You’re trying to get out, remember?” he reminds you. “It’s best not to ask questions.”

You frown at him in indignation. “You’re the one who said it’s stupid to try and get out, but now you’re agreeing with it?”

He shrugs. “No harm in trying.”

You smile amusedly. “I’m a small cafe owner who visits a shooting range in her free time to stay sane.”

Yoongi‘s smile widens. “No one said you’re a normal cafe owner. You might’ve changed your last name, Miss L/N, but you’re a Han. Always will be.”

“I know.” Your gaze falls to your lap. “I’m not trying to hide who I am.”

“I know you’re not.” Yoongi’s expression changes to a soft one. “If you were, you wouldn’t be out here living a double life at my request.”

“Well, like you said, I’m a Han. It’s what my dad would do.”

“Ah.” Yoongi stretches. “Cafe owner by day, vigilante by night.”

You chuckle softly. “You make it sound like I’m doing something good… there’s not much good in the life we’re living, Yoongi.”

There’s a quiet pause in which Yoongi sighs, a thoughtful expression passing over his face. “It’s not all bad, at least not what you’re doing.”

“Honestly, it keeps me going and it’s the least I can do to help.”

Yoongi smiles, and a brief silence full of thoughts passes between you as you finish what’s left of your chocolate milk. “So,” you place the empty carton down, “where are they keeping the shipment?”

“The same warehouse off highway 46 from Jung-gu. They’ll have several guards on watch surrounding the place.”

“It’s the same place as last time?” you ask, frowning. “They’re not very smart.”

“Well they have tried stealing drugs from a legitimate pharmaceutical company,” Yoongi says pointedly. “I don’t think they’re very bright. But,” he adds, “they’re powerful.” He sits forward, pulling out a car key fob from his inside pocket and places this on the table.

You look down at it. “Same drill as last time?”

“Yep. Everything you need is there. You’ll also find a burner phone in there. Once it’s all done, text me from there. The police will come and seize the drugs.”

“Why don’t they just deal with it themselves?”

Yoongi frowns deeply. “The Cheong’s have been dealing with the Takahashi’s. If the police get in there first, they’ll detain the guards and any evidence which includes their phones. If that happens, the Takahashi's get brought in…” He lets out a slow sigh. “That can’t happen. They’re under our protection for a while.”

You don’t ask any further questions. Picking it up, you turn the fob over in your hand, your thumb sliding over the metal print of the Mercedes sign. Letting out a small breath, you look up at Yoongi. “No holding back?”

Expression somber, he nods. “No holding back.”

You know you should feel something in those words, maybe a little bit of guilt, or at least fear for what you have to do, but you don’t. It’s hard to, when you know what will happen to innocent victims if you don’t do this.

Instead, you see an opportunity. “I need something in return.”

Yoongi lifts his head calmly. “Is everything okay?”

You nod, placing the key down on the table. “Just, promise me you’ll do it first.”

At this, Yoongi’s expression changes to one of concern and he hesitates.

Meeting his gaze, you say his name. “Please.”

“Alright.” Yoongi shifts, keeping his eyes on you. “I promise.”

The car is exactly where Yoongi said it would be. You don’t bother looking at what he’s given you until you’re parked in close proximity to the warehouse but distant enough to not be seen by any of the guards.

There’s two cases in the trunk, one significantly larger than the other. You open the small one first, smiling when you see two handguns sitting snug in the case. A FNS-F9 Longslide – your weapon of choice – and a Glock 17 – Yoongi’s personal favourite.

The larger case contains magazines, two thigh holsters, a waist strap, a bulletproof vest, and a smaller case sheathing two double edged, partially serrated hand knives – Gerber Mark II’s.

Strapping the holsters around your thigh, you slot the guns in and arm yourself with the knives too, just in case, and tuck a spare magazine into your side pocket, as well as a silencer. You choose not to wear the bulletproof vest – although it’s light, it’ll still slow you down.

Closing the trunk, you quickly grab something from the front of the car that you brought with you from home. In a silk pouch, you keep a vial of chloroform and multiple napkins – you pocket these before making your way towards the warehouse. It’s surrounded by a patch of trees, making it the perfect place to hide such crimes, but it’s also advantageous for you to approach easily without being seen.

You quickly scout the place from the outskirts, noting a total of eight guards outside; three at the front, two at the back, two on the east side, and one on the west. You’re well aware that as soon as any of them realise you’re here, they’ll send a call out for more, so you need to be strategic and quick.

West is where you hit first. A man walks slowly along the concrete wall, kicking at stones with every step. You observe him silently from the shadows and note how young he looks, at least definitely younger than you. Yoongi’s words echo in your head – “No holding back” – but you can’t forget that some of these guards aren’t here by choice. Besides, killing them only protects the Takahashi’s and that’s of no interest to you. Sometimes, collateral damage happens, and you know Yoongi knows that.

So, you sheathe the knife you intended to use and instead pull a napkin from the pouch and douse it in chloroform. It only takes a few careful steps for you to reach the guard from behind, and with a swift movement before he can reach for the gun at his waist, you pull him into a secure headlock and smother his face with the cloth. For a second, he almost has you, struggling and resisting your arms, but the chloroform works fast and he slows.

Seconds later, you’re lowering him to the ground. You take the gun from his waist, disabling it and tossing it somewhere into the trees before taking his phone and stowing it away into your pocket. Before you move on, you drag his body out towards the trees so no one who comes looking will be alerted to your presence.

You begin moving fast along the warehouse wall, only slowing down when you approach the corner to the back. Back pressed against the wall, you peek slowly around the corner only to draw back almost immediately – another guy has joined them making it three men now, one of whom is peeing just a few feet away from where you are, facing away from the warehouse, while the other two stand on the other end, out of earshot.

Again, you come up with a way to avoid a kill – you wait until the man is doing up his zipper before taking a firm hold of the glock and walking right up behind him. Then you tap his shoulder.

He turns around and meets your smiling expression, looking visibly confused. “Huh?”

Before he can look past your face to see the weapons in your holster, the butt end of your gun is hitting him square in the jaw followed by you hooking your hands behind his head and bringing his head down to meet your knee.

You feel the pain in your knee as his unconscious body drops to the ground. “Ouch,” you grumble, rolling your shoulders too from the force with which you hit him. It’s been a while since you’ve done this, it would’ve been a good idea to stretch first.

Crouching down, you quickly take the guy’s gun and remove the bullets before moving him into the tree line like you'd done with the other guy. Then you cautiously move towards the other two. As you get closer, you pull out the silencer and attach it to the longslide while listening to the idle conversation between the two.

“It’s been almost a month since I’ve been back there and I swear I’ve never been happier,” the shorter of the two says, taking a drag of a cigarette.

The taller guy laughs. “Bet you emptied your pockets too.”

The short one laughs too. “Spent at least a million won but it was worth it. You should’ve seen those girls and the one I had in the private show, fuck,” he exhales, smirking grossly. “The tits on her. I got a fucking semi just by looking at them.”

You cringe upon hearing that, hurrying up as you check the bullets in the barrel.

“Would’ve spent all my money too then. Where is this place, huh?”

“It’s the Lee’s place, the best place for this shit in all of Seoul.”

“I heard about that, they’ve been running it for years now, apparently they keep the girls–”

Standing up, you unhesitatingly shoot both of them in their dicks.

High pitched groans fill the space surrounding you as they keel over onto the ground, blood staining their jeans rapidly.

You step out from where you are and walk over to stand between them. They both look up at you, still rolling over in pain, their teary-eyes wide and red.

“You fucking bitch,” the short one rasps, heavily breathing as he tries to reach for his gun.

“Nu-uh,” you tut, taking it from him before he can and taking the other guy’s too. You remove the bullets from them both before dropping the guns right over the men’s crotches. “Oops,” you pout sarcastically.

They cry out, the sound too stilted to be able to be heard from anyone else unless they’re close by.

“The fuck d’you want?” the taller one hisses, grabbing onto your ankle.

You shoot him a dirty look, pulling your ankle free and digging your heel into his crotch. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out as his body curls up.

“Nothing, at least not from you idiots,” you answer, removing your heel to do the same to the shorter guy, watching emotionlessly as they both suffer in pain.

Sighing, you drag your heel in the ground to remove some of the blood and take a look at the time on your phone. 1.07am.

“I guess you’re lucky. I'm short on time.”

The two barely have a chance to look at you before you’re putting a second round of bullets in them and dragging their bodies closer to the trees.

Adrenaline is starting to course through you now, coming at the perfect time as your patience runs low after killing those last two guards. You don’t bother hiding as you walk along the east side of the warehouse, approaching the two guards walking towards you.

“Hey!” One of them calls out as they both draw their guns. You already have yours cocked and ready in your hand hanging by your side.

The two men look at each other before turning back to your figure as you approach, their faces expressing confusion when they see you; you have no doubt that they only haven’t shot yet because they can see you’re a woman. But then they see the longslide in your hand and the glock at your thigh.

“Oi! Stop right now or I'll shoot!” The same guy warns again but you don’t.

You don’t stop until you’re only a few feet away so you can have a better aim at the man’s chest. A second later he’s on the floor and his friend is bewildered, aiming his gun at you.

“What the fuck?!” He exclaims, his gun shooting in your direction but you’ve already ducked and rolled out of the way having expected the shot. As you straighten up with one knee still on the floor, you steady yourself by outstretching a leg in front of you, placing your foot firmly on the ground and getting a perfect shot to the second one’s chest.

Six down, two to go. Well, for the guards outside at least; there’s no telling how many are inside.

The last two go down as easily as the rest and within a few minutes, you’re approaching the huge rusted metal doors of the warehouse. One has been left slightly ajar and you press your back close to the metal as you approach it, straining your ears to listen for any voices. You can make out at least three and your judgment tells you they’re around twenty feet away from the entrance where you stand.

Ever so slowly, you edge closer until you can peer inside. The space ahead of you is mostly obscured by tall shelves carrying scaffolding poles — it’s the same set up as the last time you were here. The warehouse is disguised as a unit for scaffolding materials with aisle after aisle of tall shelves. This works greatly to your advantage so you can enter unseen.

However, although you’re confident in your skill, you know that you can’t take on three armed men at the same time, so to make things easier for yourself, you draw them out.

One hard knock on the metal door is enough.

“The fuck was that?” You hear one voice say.

“Oi, go check it out.”

“You go check it out, you pussy,”

“Who the fuck you calling pussy?”

“Prove it then, go fucking look.”

“I will, fucking idiot, don’t call me pussy.”

You hear a few more mumbles but you’re not paying attention as you draw the small Gerber Mark II from your thigh. Moving behind the door that’s slightly ajar, you wait with bated breath as you hear the sound of a gun cocking just a few feet away from you.

Seconds later, the door is being kicked open further and you move steadily with it, careful not to make any noise behind the creaking metal.

The door being pushed open further gives you better space to hide and as the man raises his rifle and steps out, aiming at the space around him cautiously, you quickly step out from behind the door to make your move.

One hand clamps over his mouth as you press your chest against his back as close as you can to protect yourself if he tries to shoot. He doesn’t get much of a chance though, only managing to shoot one stray shot in a second of panic before the sharp edge of your knife is slicing his throat.

He drops to the ground, body writhing and his gaze meets yours — your chest tightens and you have to look away as you shoot him once more in the head to end his misery.

With no time to spare, you grab his phone and throw it hard against the warehouse wall. You know that the men inside will have heard the shot which means you need to hurry before they realise the rest of the guards are dead and call for more help.

Hurriedly, you slip into the warehouse and move to hide behind the closest shelf while you hear the sounds of footsteps coming closer.

You hold your gun up towards the sound of the footsteps, ready to shoot as soon as someone comes into view. Finger hovering over the trigger, you wait patiently in your obscured position, and then the first man appears.

Bang. Bang, Bang. The shots fire from your gun and before his body even hits the floor you’re stepping around the corner of the shelf and moving fast behind the next one to change your position before you get caught. You’re grateful it’s mostly dark here so you can move more freely.

“Who the fuck are you and what do you want?” A harsh voice bellows from where you just were.

Of course you don’t respond, instead rushing down the length of the aisle. You reach the end and cautiously peer around the corner to see one of them by the entrance. He’s facing away from you, standing still with his gun raised. Without hesitation, you aim for his chest and pull the trigger.

He drops to his knees first, his rifle dropping to the concrete ground before he falls.

Your mistake is watching — from right next to his body, a man steps out with his gun raised right at you. He shoots and it misses you by a thread as you step back just in time.

“Go around the other side!” You hear his voice call out and footsteps fill the space around you.

Fuck. There’s two more men and you have nowhere to go from here, so you do what you have to do.

Looking around the corner again, you see the man approaching. He shoots as soon as you stick your head out but this time you shoot back in his direction, noticing your advantage as he walks towards you out in the open. But you know that there’s the fourth guard coming in your direction so you have to be quick.

You step back after every shot you take and after the third, you hear him swear out loud. One more look and you see him clutching his shoulder as blood drips down his arm.

Before you can even shoot again, you’re alerted to the presence of someone behind you and just as you turn around to aim, a hard kick meets your ribs and your gun gets knocked out of your hands.

The pain shoots through you and your hand instinctively raises to the source as you stumble back, your other hand reaching for the glock.

“Not so fast, pretty,” the guard says, grabbing your arm and pushing you against the shelf. He’s the same height as you with an average build — you reckon you can take him but you’re still aware that the other guard is still alive and more importantly, armed.

However, this guard is your first concern. He reaches for the glock himself and you let him. It gives you the chance to discreetly reach for the knife at your other thigh and stab him in the first place you can. That happens to be his hip.

He grunts loudly, grip on your arm tightening but with one hand still holding your glock, you quickly use his strength against him and push into his body, stabbing him again in his abdomen and once at his wrist so he drops your gun.

With no time to pick it up, you kick this out of the way just in time before his strong hands grip at you again. “What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses, throwing a punch to your face which you manage to block with your arm but it still hurts.

Teeth gritted, you struggle to get free of his grasp this time so you bring your knee up but he jerks backwards in time. This only angers him more and he throws you harshly to the floor.

You feel nothing as your knees and elbows hit the concrete, adrenaline surging through your fight response kicks in – kill or be killed.

The guard comes closer and you look around quickly trying to figure out what to do. You spot your longslide that was knocked out of your hands just a few feet away from you.

“Wait!” you say instinctively, eyes rounding in false fear as you look up at him. “Please don’t hurt me.”

He pauses, eyes trained on your frightened expression and for a second you think you have him. Then he shakes his head and reaches for his gun.

In a split second, you use all your upper body strength to push yourself off the ground while sweeping out one of his legs from beneath him.

He’s stumbling forward as you lunge for your own gun but just when you’re about to grab it, his hand is on your left calf and dragging your body towards him. You spot another gun strapped to his right thigh.

“Hey, I got her!”

You try to kick free from him but he’s stronger and has you on your feet, body restrained by his arms in seconds. As the other guard comes around the corner with his arm bleeding thanks to you, an idea suddenly comes to mind.

Using only a fraction of your strength, you try to resist the man holding you and watch carefully as the other one approaches with his rifle aimed at you despite his bleeding shoulder.

“Who are you?” he questions.

“Answer the question,” the guard holding you says, squeezing you harder.

“Just kill me,” you mutter, slowing down in the other’s arm.

“I will, after you tell me who sent you,” the guard spits, pressing his rifle into your chest.

Kill or be killed – it doesn’t have to be as a simple gunshot or the throw of a dagger…

Faking a fearful expression, meeting the guards sharp eyes as you answer, “I didn’t want to, they made me do it.”

The two guards exchange wary looks.

“Please, I’ll tell you everything just don’t hurt me.”

The one holding you nods at the other one and he lowers his gun.”Who sent you?” his voice comes from behind your ear.

“It was Takahashi,” you answer shakily, bracing yourself as you feel the man’s grip on you loosen further.

The one holding the rifle lowers it completely. “Takahashi?” he asks, confused. “Why the fuck would he send someone here?”

“I-I don’t know.” Your right hand slowly moves towards the man’s thigh behind you. “They said something about teaching the Cheong’s a lesson.”

“Why did they send you?” the one holding you questions. “You work for them?”

“No,” you fake a whimper, head lowering as your hand closes around his arm as though in fear.

“Then why’d they send you?” he asks again, except this time you note his voice is softer. Time to move.

Your hand closes around the gun at his thigh and you shoot once at the ground to disorient them both before immediately pulling on the man’s arm to have his body in front of you as a shiel.

He takes the bullet that his friend fires in retaliation to yours, straight in the chest – the man holding you goes slack, his hold on you weakening as a result of the shot his friend just fired at him. “Shit, Jung!”

Using Jung as cover, you shoot the space three times ahead of you and then there’s silence.

Jung drops to his hands and knees, groaning as he clutches his abdomen and slowly looks up at you. “Who the fuck are you?” he asks.

You glance at his friend’s dead body, blood pooling from two fatal wounds. “No one.” You look away before you put a bullet in his head.

Weariness catches up to you as you walk out of the warehouse and into the cover of the trees back to where the car is parked. Pain is starting to spread through your sore muscles and you have no doubt you’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow.

Once you reach the car, you find the burner phone Yoongi gave you and text him a simple ‘it’s done’. Two words which should weigh heavy on your mind as you remember there are men who just lost their lives tonight.

But you know that this is how this works, so tonight, you go home and sleep as though none of this happened.

author's note. thank you so much for reading! <3 chapter 1 coming next week sunday! pleeaaase share your thoughts with me :) xoxoxo

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