#Californians dni | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wndaswife · 2 years ago

Text

centre of attention | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Ex-wife of a church preacher and a member of a popular parent-teacher group, Wanda Maximoff is one of the town’s most infamous figures, but you soon learn that she is much more than she seems.

Word count: 13 783

Tags: smut, fluff, age gap, jealousy, allusions to slut-shaming, mentions of a gangbang, brief cunnilingus, strap-ons, fingering, brief masturbation, hair-pulling, spanking, degradation, mommy kink, power bottom!wanda maximoff. MINORS DNI.

gif credit to vanessacarlylse

Pitchy hums of singing cicadas greeted you the moment you drove into the small northern Californian town you were to spend the next few months in.

None of it was really ideal for you’d wanted to land a placement as a teacher’s assistant at least somewhere in southern California as you’d lived in Los Angeles your whole life. But the moment you drove further into the town and saw groups of families walking hand-in-hand down the surprisingly-lively streets and children retiring towards their bus stops after their days at school, you knew your stay wouldn’t be as dull as you imagined.

The only thing that gave you pause was passing by the town’s local and only church that was as bustling with people as the schoolyard was.

What you could already tell was that the townspeople were certainly close-knit, valued their communities, and were a rather religious group of people.

In worrying about your interactions with the town’s church, you hadn’t meant to be crass, but rather sincerely concerned for the possibility that you might truly have found yourself stuck in a strictly old-fashioned and highly religious town hours away from Los Angeles for the next several months.

When you met with your assigned teacher and principal of the schoolhouse to go over some extra paperwork upon your arrival the next day, you met Agatha Harkness, a woman you immediately pinned as the town gossip. She was the vice-principal of the elementary school and she was quick and very kind to go over what you needed to know about the town you now resided in — which ended up being everything she knew from secret divorces to scandalous affairs.

Honestly, you were grateful for her warm welcome, even if the way you secretly mused at all of Agatha’s gossip would certainly be interpreted as rather unseemly for such a new resident of the town.

On Saturdays, the church held breakfasts after early-morning mass for there was also a specially-run youth program that was managed by the church every week on the same day. Eager to introduce you to some of the town’s families, some of whom were involved in the school’s particularly active parent-teacher group at school, Agatha took you to the breakfast.

As you expected, the spacious church basement where the breakfast was taking place was bustling. Families that crowded the buffet tables were dressed in their formal church attire, mothers with their hair done and husbands well-coiffed, and children in clothing that looked proper for the occasion though they were most definitely forced into them.

“Oh, there’s Monica,” Agatha told you before calling the bright-faced woman over.

She greeted the vice-principal then turned to you and stuck out her hand with a large grin. “Hey there,” she beamed.

“Hi,” you answered with a nervous smile, slightly intimidated by the crowd and in stunned admiration of the charming woman in front of you. You shook her hand.

“Monica is likely the greatest science teacher one could ever have the pleasure of meeting in all of northern California,” Agatha said with confident sincerity.

The cheery brunette waved her hand at her dismissively. “Oh, please, Agatha,” she uttered bashfully. Then she turned to you with a smile. “Are you new to the church?”

“I just started my placement as a teacher’s assistant here for my teaching degree in LA,” you said.

With raised eyebrows and an intrigued nod, Monica replied and crossed her arms as if impressed, “Is that so? It’s been a good while since we’ve had visitors come up here, especially from the Valley.”

You’d been living in Los Angeles for so long that you hadn’t ever really considered how renowned it was in the more rural areas of California; even Agatha had been surprised when you’d told her where you were coming in from.

“I don’t mean to hold you up,” Monica told you. “Help yourself to any of the food.” She exchanged a few words with Agatha before you were led further into the large room, and for the next forty minutes you stood by Agatha’s side eating and being introduced to the local families.

To your dismay, Agatha excused herself for a moment to greet what looked like a family who’d just entered the dining hall. You were forced to stand alone by one of the tables, busying yourself by looking around and playing with the hem of your shirt in a desperate attempt not to look awkward or out of place.

When two young boys and their father approached the table you were leaning against, you quickly straightened and stepped back to allow them to pull out the chairs.

You saw Agatha reapproaching when you turned around, but she was walking back with a woman you hadn’t yet met. She looked a few years younger than Agatha, but still older than you. Her hair was wrapped in a neat French twist, blonde strands that’d become loose from the hairstyle curling lightly around her face.

With her perfect done-up hair, the dark brown lip colour, a pair of black flats, and a dark green blouse tucked into black high-waisted straight-legged pants, she was a bit hard to take your eyes away from.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice what an obsessive idiot you must’ve looked like for she was busy balancing a few platefuls of food as she approached the table behind you with Agatha. She set the plates down for the young boys and the man you saw earlier, and you then realised that they were a family.

“This is Y/N — who I was telling you about just a moment ago,” Agatha brought you into the conversation then stepped to your side, wrapping a supportive arm around your shoulders.

The other woman she was with carefully placed the plates of food in front of who you supposed was her husband and children then straightened to look at you. She brushed the strands of her hair out of her face and smiled at you after taking a breath.

“Wanda,” she introduced herself then extended her hand to you with a warm smile.

“Hi,” you replied then shook her hand. “Y/N.” You kicked yourself internally for bringing your name up again when you recalled that Agatha had just mentioned it.

Wanda nodded then ran her palms down her hips. “So I’ve heard,” she said, a tinge of gaiety in her tone as her smile widened. “Are you starting your assistant position at the school on Monday?”

You nodded and attempted to return her smile though you were a little overwhelmed by the crowds of families you were currently standing in the middle of. Wanda caught onto the bashfulness of your tiny awkward smile and thought it was endearing.

“Well, don’t you worry. I think you’ll fit right in,” she reassured, the unbroken eye contact making you take a deep breath that you hoped wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

Before you could answer, one of Wanda’s young sons tugged at his mother’s blouse and asked in an adorably mousy voice, “Momma, can I please get a ginger ale?”

“Of course, moya zvezda. But just a little,” she answered, reaching down to stroke her son’s chin with her fingers. Then she looked back up at you with a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N.”

You straightened and hoped you were only imagining the way you felt yourself blushing at her undivided attention. “L-Likewise, Mrs Maximoff,” you managed to say.

It was just over a week until you saw Wanda Maximoff again, much to your disappointment.

During the first week of your placement, you learned a whole lot of things. Firstly, dull heaps of information that you hadn’t said was anything but wholly interesting when the baker by your new place dumped years and years worth of the small town’s history on you when you were purchasing a loaf of rye bread, then more gossip shared with you from the teachers’ staff, suggestions for where the best hiking trails were around town which you happily utilised, and most importantly that there was a parent-teacher association that volunteered twice a week at the school.

At first that last bit seemed unimportant until you were given a sheet of the association’s members so you could familiarise yourself with them as you’d be seeing much of them throughout your time there, one of which was a familiar ‘Wanda Maximoff.’

Out of all the gossip Agatha had told you since you arrived, the resident she talked the least about was the one you were the most interested in. You supposed it was because they were close friends, and it would make sense that certain things about someone’s life — including their friends — were naturally private, even if not consciously.

But you didn’t think Agatha would mind if you asked about her, so you subtly brought her up while you were helping her clean up some of her things after school, a habit you picked up after the first time when you planned to go out for coffee together after work.

With the sheet of the members’ names in your hand, you asked Agatha as discreetly as you could, “Is, um, this the same Wanda I met on Saturday? At the breakfast?”

“Only one Wanda in this town, bumblebee,” Agatha replied and hung her purse from her shoulder. It was obvious she held her to a high regard, and that the two women were good friends. “Why do you ask?”

Continuing on with your goal to know more about Wanda, you answered, “I was just curious. I don’t know a lot about her compared to everyone else.”

“You’d like to know more?” she asked then led you out of her office, locking the door behind her. As the two of you walked out of school, she offered, “What would you like to know about her?”

The opportunity made you feel a little giddy as you recalled the image of Wanda when you met her earlier that week and thought of all the things you had been curious about since then. But you didn’t want to come off as obsessive or like you’d been thinking about her as much as you had, so instead you simply asked, “Were those her kids? The two young boys?”

Agatha nodded. “Tommy and Billy. They’re the sweetest four-year-old angels.”

The two of you approached her car and slid into your respective sides — Agatha in front of the wheel and you in the passenger’s seat.

“And that was her… husband with them?” you asked, buckling yourself in then tucking your hands under your knees.

“Her ex-husband,” Agatha corrected and started the car. “I don’t know if you’ve been to any of the masses, but Vision’s the church’s favourite preacher, so you’d see a lot of him if you attended regularly.”

So she wasn’t married.

You recalled calling her ‘Mrs Maximoff’ the last time you saw her and you shrunk a little in your seat in embarrassment.

While you tried to imagine Wanda marrying and divorcing a church preacher, not that you knew much about her to begin with to have anything to imagine, Agatha added, “The divorce was, you know, as scandalous as you’d expect in a small town like this, especially given how important the church is here and that both Wanda and Vision are such well-known residents.”

That was the first time anyone had mentioned any sort of distaste for how traditional the town seemed to be and it felt like your first breath of relief, for you’d felt so different from the crowd here since you arrived.

The weight from your shoulders was lessened exponentially when she also said, “But this town is full of younger families of a different generation, and there were more who offered their support than not.

“Although age isn’t entirely indicative of beliefs, so there are still a few younger parents both in the congregation and the parent-teacher association who harbour some distaste towards Wanda and her personal life.”

Up until now, you hadn’t said very much besides uttering a few hums of affirmation and acknowledgement.

“You alright over there, sweetie?” Agatha asked after not hearing your voice for a while. She looked over to you.

You nodded. “I’m okay. Just listening,” you told her with a reassuring smile.

She looked back to the road. “If you want to know more about her, I could give you her number and you could send her a message.”

A fervent blush formed on your face and you looked through the window to avert your face from Agatha. Something about being given Wanda’s number from someone else because they’d known you wanted to talk more with her made you feel awkward. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I’m sure I’ll… probably see her again.”

God, you felt like an idiot.

No matter what you said, it felt like it was only becoming more glaringly obvious how much Wanda was on your mind. And with the two women being close friends, you could only imagine the things Agatha would tell her about how you were acting like a giddy little schoolgirl thinking about her.

That was sort of what you felt like, anyways.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell her we talked about her,” Agatha reassured and winked at you. “I know you’re a shy one.”

You were grateful for that, but still pretty embarrassed.

Dottie was the first PTA member you had a real conversation with. It was on a Tuesday, and you were walking your class of twenty fourth-graders to the church alongside their teacher — you were assigned to assist Bruce Banner, an awkward but brilliant science teacher you came to enjoy the comfortable company of. A few times a month, students attended mass with enough time for the service before school ended, after which their parents would pick them up in front of the church.

You ended up sitting beside a blonde woman who immediately started a conversation with you when she recognised your face from the breakfast last week. After introducing yourself and mentioning a few of the people you’d met so far, Dottie seemed to perk up at the sound of Wanda’s name.

“Oh, that woman is trouble, Y/N,” she warned, her voice low as the two of you were still surrounded by churchgoers patiently waiting for the mass to start.

Though you were well-aware of the things Agatha told you about Wanda and how she’d been interpreted by some people in town, you were curious to know pretty much anything about her.

So you asked, “Why?”

Dottie turned her head to you so her chin was brushing her shoulder as she kept herself quiet when she said, “What kind of woman divorces a church preacher of her ex-husband’s regard?” She said it with a kind of humour and a small disbelieving scoff. “It just isn’t proper, especially not for a woman with children.”

Suddenly you felt pretty regretful for being so desperate to know things about Wanda, because now you were feeling rather offended and uncomfortable hearing the things Dottie was telling you, even if what she was saying wasn’t at all about you.

As if it couldn’t get worse, Dottie ducked her head and looked at you, uttering, “Have you caught word of her little… expeditions once she got her divorce finalised?”

You bit down along the side of your tongue with your molars and looked up at the altar, silently hoping that the mass would soon start, but the church chatter between students only continued as the congregation waited for the priest to step onto the podium.

“It was all rather hush-hush because of her…” Dottie trailed off with a disapproving shake of her head, seemingly feeling some contempt simply speaking of any form of esteem for Wanda. But she continued after readjusting herself on the pew, “Because of her standing in town.”

She quickly regained her confidence when she picked up her badmouthing of Wanda again. “Allegedly,” she said with a sly grin and a demeaning chuckle, “Wanda broke out into some sort of midlife crisis and had an affair with four younger men. Four men, one of her, one measly hotel room. I mean, we’re both adults here — you do the math.”

You stuttered out an awkward hum and turned your body subtly, making sure no one around was paying attention to your conversation. No one was. It seemed to you that Dottie’s words were a lot louder than they were due to their subject matter.

“Well… Wasn’t she divorced by then?” you asked.

Dottie laughed and waved her hand. “That’s as good as an affair, honey. Marriage is for life.”

Then she placed a supportive hand on your knee that sent shivers up your arms before advising, “Besides, it’s good you know early which people to befriend and which to avoid, and Wanda Maximoff is nothing but trouble, junebug.”

Though the general consensus was that everyone liked her if not admired her, there were rumours of similar concerns about Wanda as she seemed to be much less of a conservative woman compared to the rest of the town. It wasn’t necessarily that every resident was a traditionalist, but that even those second to Wanda’s independence from the constricting life of an upper middle-class suburban housewife simply lacked the confidence only she seemed to have in choosing to live a life by her own freedoms and little else.

The rumour Dottie had told you was entirely true aside from the missing detail that her expedition — as she had put it — with the younger men could be accurately construed as a gangbang instead of an orgy or any form of tame sex. But Wanda was so cherished by her community that one would become instantly disliked if their suspicions of her scandalous life reflected in the way they came about interacting with her.

Some were shocked and almost insulted that anyone could take such accusations about the most warm and charismatic woman in town so seriously, and others lacking in the confidence to outright say there was nothing wrong with a sexually-adventurous woman but nontraditionalists nonetheless would come to her defence albeit in slightly ambiguous ways.

Moreover, the men she’d fucked were so proud of their performances and achievements in sleeping with her that the most they did to indicate what had happened between them was walk with their chests out and chins tipped up in public, feeling proud of the accomplished little secrets they had with her. Sharing dirty secrets with a woman like Wanda, and keeping them secret, amounted to a lot more pride received than repeating what had happened in the shared hotel room that afternoon.

The mass was painfully dull and all you’d been able to think of the last few days was Wanda, and that afternoon was no exception. Your thoughts of her only intensified after your conversation with Dottie and to make matters worse, at one point when you looked around at the pews, you spotted that very woman on your mind sitting between her two sons at one of the seats lined up horizontally in front of one of the side staircases leading up to the altar.

With Dottie’s words still echoing in your mind, your thoughts then wandered to Wanda being fucked by a group of younger men, cum adorining whatever gorgeous body you knew she had under all her conservative clothing, fingers wrapped around erect cocks while she took another one down her throat and another fucking her ass, fingers pumping in and out of her wet pussy.

You felt terrible for having your mind travel there, so you looked away from her and readjusted yourself in your seat. But from the corner of your eye you noticed her tuck her hair behind her ear and fix the collar on one of her sons’ blouses. She caught your attention again.

By then it was hard to stop thinking about her, especially when you watched her whisper an inaudible forewarning to her other son that was getting particularly squirmy in his seat. You watched the parting and movement of her lips and you couldn’t help the way you imagined how she’d look with her lips wrapped around a strap fucking its way into her throat, your fingers buried in her soft hair.

Then you imagined unbuttoning her jeans and revealing her smooth legs, pulling her shirt off and uncovering perfect tits that made you shift uncomfortably when you envisioned burying your face in them and kissing up the soft swells, making Wanda moan and grip at your shoulders while your other hand groped one of her breasts.

When you began imagining the view of her sore red ass while you fucked her from behind — her head thrown back as she cried out in long groans and whimpers, her cunt constricting around your thick cock — you forced your thoughts to come to a full stop.

You felt like an awful person thinking such things anyways, for it somehow felt like you were taking advantage of her. Trying to pretend like Wanda wasn’t on your mind was practically impossible, so you just decided to focus on something else.

Wanda was wearing a cozy-looking brown knit pullover. From the angle of your spot on the pews, you could see she was wearing a pair of jeans and butterscotch ankle boots. She had her hair combed neatly and tucked behind her ears and with it let down this time, you could see that its length reached just above her shoulders.

For the most part, she paid attention to the sermons with a still expression unless she was tending to her sons’ squirming and playful whispers, a testament to the impatience of young children.

When another man stepped up to the microphone after the priest stepped down and took a seat, Dottie leaned to the side and whispered, “Wanda’s ex-husband.”

Your attention was suddenly piqued and you looked up at the man. He was slender and tall and had blonde brushed-back wavy hair that swooped around his clean-shaven face. He had a pair of aviator glasses perched on his straight and jutted nose, and he was dressed in a beige blazer, navy blue slacks, a knit vest that was a few shades darker, and underneath, a grey blouse with an orange tie.

By all accounts, he was a pretty decent-looking guy.

His smooth and animated tone of voice that emanated through the church as he read a parable from a small leather-bound notebook made it clear that he was passionate about the church and his position there, and with his appearance that made him seem friendly and introspective, it was no wonder why Agatha had told you he was the church’s most popular preacher.

Wanda’s expression was ever-still and indifferent with no indication that she harboured any remaining emotional sentiments towards seeing her ex-husband in public nor any hint of being bitter towards him.

The service finally came to an end and it was then time to help the class line up by the church parking lot to have their parents pick them up.

When you stood up, you looked for Wanda but lost sight of her in the crowds of people filing out of the church. So you said your goodbyes to Dottie and led the class out of the building and towards the parking lot with their teacher.

It was about thirty minutes later waiting by the church’s front doors when only three students remained to be picked up. One of the students’ mothers were engaged in conversation with Bruce, the remaining children were talking amongst themselves, and you were standing by the side, just waiting for the rest of them to get picked up so you could walk back to school with Banner.

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger,” a voice spoke behind you. You turned to see Wanda smiling widely at you as she approached. She stopped in front of you and leaned her shoulder against the brick wall of the church.

You smiled, feeling happy to see her. She really was charming, and so warm. “Hi,” you said. “Were you here for the service?”

Bruce glanced at you from the corner of his eye as he continued to talk with one of the students’ parents. He was glad you were getting along with people in town so well, and felt a little impressed that you seemed to be so friendly with Wanda so early into your stay. He was a shy and rather soft-spoken man, and the most he’d ever outwardly expressed his thoughts about Wanda was in the privacy of his wife's company. He had friendly feelings towards the renowned preacher’s ex-wife, and if the town had to be divided into groups, he’d certainly be categorised as a nontraditionalist.

Wanda replied, “Tommy and Billy’s father had a scripture reading today and he has them for the rest of the week, so I picked them up early after lunch to spend some time with them. I just said goodbye to them a few minutes ago.”

“About that…” you said and curled a lock of your hair between your fingers nervously. “I didn’t know you weren’t married last time we talked, and I shouldn’t have assumed…”

She ran her hand down your forearm, the one that was lifted so you could play with your hair. Her hand was so close to your face, and you caught a whiff of her perfume. “Oh, don’t worry about it, honey,” she reassured. “I completely understand, and you didn’t offend me.”

Wanda squeezed your forearm gently before her hand returned to her side. She straightened away from the wall and tucked her hair behind both ears. “Anyway, I saw you a bit ago and wanted to come up earlier, but I caught up chatting. I’m glad I could catch you.”

You fiddled with your fingers and perked up a little. “R… Really?”

Wanda hummed in what was either confirmation or amusement from your nervous response. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over for coffee,” she offered. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot since we met on Saturday, and I’d love to get to know you more.”

“Today? Now?” you asked.

“If that works for you.”

“It does,” you told her cheerily.

She nodded with a wide smile. “Alright then, great. I can wait until you’re done here.”

Bruce, as if partially-listening into the whole conversation, turned and told you, “You can leave early if you want, Y/N. Just waiting on two more students here, so it’s no big deal.”

You asked, “Are you sure?”

He reassured you it would be fine, and you soon found yourself walking through the church parking lot to Wanda’s car.

Since Agatha picked you up from home that morning, Wanda only had to stop at school so you could get your things from the classroom before the both of you were on your way back to her house.

Wanda’s house was just off the edge of town, surrounded by farmland. In spite of that, her house was rather modern and of contemporary architecture. A white-picket fence extended down the grove of trees that surrounded the long gravel driveway. From afar where her expansive backyard was visible, you could see a sizable in-ground pool and what looked like a tennis court beyond that. She parked her car in front of the dual parking garage and you looked through the car window at her house.

When the two of you stepped onto her porch, Wanda told you, “The property used to be mine and Vision’s, but after we divorced I kept it for myself and he moved into town.”

“It’s a really nice place,” you complimented as you followed her lead, placing your shoes by the door and setting your things down on the table in the foyer.

“Thank you,” she said, looking over her shoulder at you. “I’ll make us some coffee and I can give you a tour?”

You nodded and Wanda smiled at your leniency. She had you sit at the kitchen island counter while she made coffee with a pretty-looking French Press.

“So, darling, how are you liking it here so far?” she asked, setting up two mugs by the steeping coffee. She turned and leaned back against the counter, her hands resting against the edge.

“I’ve really been enjoying myself,” you replied, sitting up in your chair.

Wanda appreciated your almost innocent enthusiasm as she regarded you with a smile. Then after a second, seemingly momentarily distracted by whatever was running through her mind as she stared at you, she inquired, “Have you made friends with anyone yet?”

“I talk to Agatha a lot, but this is my first time seeing anyone out of work or anything like that.”

There was a glint of pride in her smile when you said that as if she felt satisfied that she was the first person you were truly getting close with. It was almost territorial.

She turned back to the coffee once it finished steeping and you watched as she slowly pressed the top of it down, separating the grinds from the coffee. She poured it into both cups and discarded the grinds and rinsed out the press as the drinks took a moment to cool.

“How do you take your coffee, sweetheart?” Wanda asked. It made you feel sorta giddy when she used those kinds of names on you. She then placed the mug in front of you when she made it how you liked it.

As promised, she gave you a tour of the house which ended up feeling more like a casual stroll as you were outside with her more than not, walking the expanses of the tree groves out by the gardens and through her sizable backyard together.

You were largely an occasionally-stuttering and slightly-embarrassing mess with Wanda, but she didn’t seem to mind at all and led most of the conversation with you. In fact, she found your shy demeanour rather attractive, and she was delighted every time she caught you blushing or stumbling over your words.

Talking with her was so simple in spite of how awkward you felt, and if you didn’t have anything to say, it was just as easy to listen while she did the talking. She was different from other people you’d met thus far, because she was bold and not at all shy about being honest. She was adept in balancing the weight of being a single mother to two children while also being a leading figure in both the church community and in the school’s parent-teacher association. But she was also radiant and warm, and most especially, a huge tease.

When the topic of her divorce came up, Wanda made a joke about how her sex life with Vision was dull and how she’d been indulging in leaving her husband to get properly fucked months before the divorce papers were ever served, and though she did promptly say she was joking, you had an inkling that she was being at least partially honest. She made no further effort to convince you that she was simply jesting.

She then told you more seriously that her marriage with Vision had simply become less passionate over the years and that they confessed to each other that neither of them would feel particularly anguished if they ended up divorcing, which was reason enough without their other existing troubles. Essentially, their divorce was amicable and they still worked well enough together in order to raise their children.

Additionally, Wanda confirmed your impressions of her ex-husband from the service earlier, that he was the sensitive type who was reflective and intelligent. She told you she was impressed by how proficient you were in reading people.

The compliment flattered you, but you were secretly a bit insecure as you thought about her and Vision’s marriage. You knew fully well that they were divorced, but you couldn’t help comparing yourself to him and wondering if Wanda had a type — more precisely, if you were her type.

Another thing that you distinctly enjoyed about Wanda was that she was a very physical person. When she thought something was funny, she laughed in a rich way that crinkled the corners of her eyes and pulled her lips back into the prettiest of smiles. She touched you when she felt like it, without hesitation, running her hand down your arm or squeezing your shoulder. She was expressive with her body language and facial expressions and never made you feel for a moment that she was doing anything else but listening with undivided attention when you were speaking. She wasn’t very much withdrawn at all; she was a very sociable and confident woman.

“And you, Y/N?” she asked, placing both mugs, empty of coffee, into the sink once the two of you made it back into the kitchen.

Wanda turned to you and leaned forward against the island counter you had sat back down at. Her hips were pressed against the edge of it and her forearms rested against the countertop, her hands folded in front of her. Her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows from earlier when the two of you had been walking out under the sun for a while.

You stuttered under her focused gaze, “M-Me? What about me?”

“Do you have a special someone?” she asked with a teasing little grin, resting her chin in her palm and looking straight at you.

Discussing the topic of your love life with Wanda made you feel flustered and you looked away from her, fiddling with your fingers and looking down at your thumbs. “No, I don’t,” you answered.

“But you have someone in mind?” Wanda playfully pressed, raising her eyebrows at you curiously.

You looked back up and told her honestly, “Not really.” You attempted to be more honest with her given that she’d been so open and warm with you. “I haven’t had much of a chance to meet anyone.”

She straightened and ran her hands flat down against the counter. “Oh?” she questioned. “But you’re such a sweet girl.” Wanda rounded the island counter until she was standing behind you and laid her hands on your shoulders. “I figured that you would’ve had boys all over you, honey,” she whispered.

You knew she was teasing, or at least that was what you kept telling yourself when you found yourself slightly overwhelmed and rather overheated with Wanda’s hands on your shoulders, her thumbs slowly sliding up the sides of your neck.

“I’m just poking fun at you, sweetness,” Wanda giggled and squeezed your shoulder before stepping away from you. She walked out of the kitchen momentarily and came back with her purse. She laid it down on the counter and pulled her phone out.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I let the time get away from me,” she apologised. “I have to meet Vision and the kids for dinner in about an hour.”

To avoid thinking of Wanda getting all ready and dressed-up to see Vision, although it was for a dinner with Tommy and Billy, you stood up from your seat and answered, “It’s no problem at all. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you more. And the coffee was really great. Thank you.”

Wanda led you to the door, a gentle hand on your lower back. “I’d love to have you over again,” she told you. Her hand slid up your back, making you straighten immediately before she took her hand away from you to unlock the front door.

Though you looked away to hide the way your cheeks flushed at the contact, Wanda caught sight of your embarrassed expression and felt a flurry of adoration for you.

After saying goodbye to each other, Wanda called you back before you could step off her porch. “Would you be able to put your number in my phone?” she asked, holding her cellphone out to you.

Sounding a little too excited, you walked back over to her and answered, “Sure!”

For the next little while since you exchanged numbers that late afternoon, you’d had a few conversations with Wanda over text message. She was a busy woman though; she was always the most free to talk in the evening or rather early in the morning when you weren’t often awake.

You talked a lot about Tommy and Billy, your assistant position and how you’d been finding things, what Wanda did on a day-to-day basis, and a few other leisurely things when you both had time to discuss things like recent movies and favourite books.

It was incredible what Wanda took on in a day. Sometimes she was organising the youth church events or in meetings with the parent-teacher association — during which you sometimes passed the meeting rooms they were in, but never got the chance to see her because they were always so busy.

She went out of town a few days a week for any sports or clubs either of her sons were in outside of school as there wasn’t much availability regarding extracurriculars in town, which was also something she’d been trying to bring up to the municipality.

If she didn’t have to tend to the PTA, the church, or her sons, she had errands. She was always doing something from dropping something off at someone’s place to picking something up, going out of town to get something fixed, or doing one thing or another for someone else.

She always apologised for it as she’d told you that she wished she had more time to talk with you or at least be able to make a plan to get lunch together.

Though you also desperately wished to see her again, you didn’t mind at all. In a way, you really admired her drive and how capable she was, and how readily available she was to those who needed her while also being the most friendly and warm woman in town.

Plans to see each other again either fell through or never had the chance to be made for the both of you were beginning to have busier schedules.

Wanda was virtually always busy, but for you, since the season had begun to reach some of its warmest temperatures, there were more school events being organised from field trips to sports’ days which took up a majority of your time as you planned with Banner both during and out of class.

The next time you saw Wanda in person was on a Thursday, nearly three weeks since you had coffee with her. But in spite of that, you felt a lot more excited than the last time, for you now had three more week’s worth of having been able to get to know her. In fact, you were almost certain Wanda considered you a friend.

She was friendly with a lot of people. Nearly everyone in town knew her and held her in high regard. She’d take on extra work just to cover for a committee member who couldn’t make a meeting or cut an off-day short to do errands for anyone who’d ask her to, but from what you knew, she was only really friends with Agatha.

And now, you hoped she felt she was friends with you too.

Today was one of the hottest days of the season so far and also the day of the biggest school event. In association with the church, the sports festival equally divided their earnings from the festival and put it towards the school, church, and municipal government.

It was perhaps one of the biggest events in town for local businesses would also set up their stands and sell their products and services, and along with the carnival games and freshly-cooked food that stretched all the way down the expanse of Main Street under the sunny warmth of a budding summer, the festival was an attraction that had the small Californian town bustling with both locals and tourists alike.

Needless to say, the planning for the festival was extensive and it was one of the primary reasons both you and Wanda had become so busy over the last few weeks, planning completely different portions of the festival at the same time.

The festival was teeming with families and couples and it reminded you a lot of home; you felt a bit nostalgic. But mostly, you felt proud for having taken part in such a successful turnout. You looked around at the game and food concessions and small-business booths that extended down the long stretch of the lively street.

On one side of the street, a grassy clearing with a large playground and plenty of picnic tables served as a seating area, mostly. People ate and chatted with one another, watched their children as they swung around on the playground, and were overall just enjoying spending such a cherished event under the sun in the charming town.

Some that occupied the grassy plain were sprawled out under the sunny green expanse, some were sitting together with loved ones on picnic blankets they’d brought, and some, including a familiar woman sitting with a group of less-familiar women, were sitting at the picnic tables.

You approached the table of women after spotting Wanda and saw that her hair was tied back and that she was wearing jean shorts that revealed smooth legs, tennis shoes, and a white blouse that she had rolled up to her elbows.

By the time you’d gotten to the picnic table you felt a bit regretful, for you didn’t know any of the other women she was sitting with and you felt rather awkward walking up to the group of women, some of whom were sitting with their husbands.

But Wanda had already caught sight of you. She turned when you came into her peripheral and called out your name cheerfully, waving you over so you really couldn’t walk back now.

She stood from her seat and wrapped an arm around you. “Hi,” she then said after pulling away from the embrace to meet your eyes. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You nodded with a smile. “Yeah, it’s been pretty nice,” you answered.

Her eyes ran over your face for a moment longer before she stepped back and allowed the rest of the picnic table to see you. With her hand resting on your shoulder, she introduced, “This is Y/N. She’s moved here from Los Angeles for the time being to work on her teaching degree.”

While you and the table exchanged hellos with each other, Wanda turned to you and said, “This is the school’s PTA. Most of it.”

Then she offered, “Why don’t you come and sit here with us, honey?” She sat back down and moved over to the side, one hand on the empty space beside her.

You quickly looked over the picnic table of couples and single mothers as they’d resumed their conversations, then over at the empty spot.

“Oh… Well, I wouldn’t want to bother any of you, and I think Vision is around here somewhere looking for a seat,” you answered and looked around for him.

Wanda then stood from her seat again, enough to be able to reach over to you and take your hand. “Nonsense, darling. Come here,” she told you. She pulled you to the table and took the small plate of food from your hand before setting it down on the table. She sat you down beside her.

Discussion around the picnic table continued and Wanda poured you a glass of water from the pitcher at the middle of the table. You smiled gratefully at her and she was quickly reined back into the table’s conversation.

Unsurprisingly, she was pretty talkative with the table. You’d known how open and social Wanda was, you’d seen it yourself, but you hadn’t seen her interact with other people yet.

She was as charismatic as ever. She told jokes that everyone laughed at, and when she spoke, everyone at the table listened with their full attention. She was actively part of every conversation that took place between the table of mothers and their husbands.

It was comforting in a way, because with Wanda leading every conversation, you didn’t have to feel pressured to do anything but sit beside her and listen to everyone talk. You spoke when you were spoken to and felt completely content sitting beside Wanda, eating your food and occasionally participating in discussion.

Wanda was rather happy to have you sitting beside her. She looked at you with an adoring smile every time you answered a question or voiced your opinions on something, and she rewarded you by running her hand down your back or squeezing your shoulder, and a few times, she even grazed the back of her fingers against your thigh.

A voice called your name from behind and you turned to see Bruce waving you over. You stood from your seat and Wanda looked up at you.

“Come right back when you’re done, honey,” she told you.

You promised you would, then threw out your empty plate of food to head over to Banner.

From the picnic table, Wanda eyed you as you dashed around doing favour to favour, first starting with you being asked to bring back some papers from the classroom, which was only just down the road. She was eager to have you back the moment you handed Bruce his paperwork, but you were soon caught up being asked to run around only further by people who suddenly needed your help, from parents who wanted to talk with you to being asked to fetch things from inside the church.

“Wanda?” a woman at the table said, trying to get her attention. She waved her hand in front of her face and Wanda looked away from you, blinking out of her concentration.

With a superficial laugh, she replied, “Sorry. I must have zoned out there.”

Tommy and Billy came from playing carnival games with their father to settle down for a moment and sit on their mother’s lap. With her arms wrapped around her twins’ waists securely as they drank from her cup of water and ate from her plate, they told her how eventful their day had been and that soon their father would let them help one of his friends run his game booth.

After filling their bellies and hydrating themselves, they slid off of their mother’s lap and were nearly about to run back to Vision before Wanda took hold of their wrists and had them stand still while she reapplied their sunscreen in spite of their whines.

When she was finished, they ran back over to Vision and were practically hopping around anticipating the chance to help with the ring game.

Later, Monica came up to Wanda and tapped her on the shoulder. She was holding a clipboard in her arm and looking a tad flustered. “I’m so sorry to ask this of you, Wanda, but one of the booths are about to run right out of food, and normally we’d just have them close for the day but there’s a line for it right down the street, and—”

“I understand,” Wanda interrupted her frazzled rambling with a warm smile and stood from the picnic table. “What do you want me to do?” she asked with a supportive hand on the brunette’s upper arm.

“Oh, thank you.” She breathed out a sigh of relief. “There’s a rice cooker and a few vegetables they need diced in the church basement’s kitchen. Would you be able to cut a few of them and get some rice going? That’s all, and I’ll be down in a little to bring it out for them.”

Wanda nodded and squeezed her arm gently. “Of course,” she said and reassured Monica again when she was a flurry of apologies again. She excused herself from the table and walked over to the church, which was just across the road.

As she walked, she looked for you, hoping that perhaps she could get you for herself, even if that meant just dicing some vegetables in a church basement.

When she caught sight of you with a particular blonde standing by an inflatable bouncy house Dottie was put in charge of to watch the kids, Wanda felt a wave of scorn come over her. She watched from the church steps as you conversed with Dottie, the wide grin on her lips as she discussed God knows what with you.

What business could she possibly have with you?

Did she even have anything interesting or intelligent to say, anything that warranted the friendly smile that formed on your lips as you spoke with her?

Dottie never liked Wanda, which never concerned her too much until she began to question what kinds of things Dottie must’ve said about her to you. Wanda was self-assured in her reputation and confident in the relationship she’d developed with you, but the image she created in her head of the blonde’s snarky little smirk as she got in close to you made Wanda’s blood boil.

It’d been hard to make plans with you for the past few weeks and Wanda couldn’t help but wonder how many times you’d seen Dottie, and for the first time, Wanda felt strongly remorseful for how much time she put into things other than her personal life.

Have you ever visited her house for coffee?

Did you have her number too?

Tearing her eyes away from the two of you, Wanda continued up the stairs and into the church, where she felt her teeth clenching tight against each other in irritation. She headed downstairs and into the kitchen where she took out the refrigerated vegetables and set them out on a cutting board.

Then she looked through the cabinets for the rice cooker and immediately became increasingly vexed when she couldn’t find it. She knelt down by the bottom of the shelves where a mess of boxes and tupperware made it impossible to find the rice cooker if it were hiding there on the shelves somewhere.

Unbeknownst to her, Agatha had come in following behind her when she saw Wanda heading into the church in hopes of finally taking some time to catch up with her friend. When she went into the basement, she saw Wanda crouching down beside one of the kitchen cabinets, arms deep in a clutter of plastic tupperware and storage boxes.

She was making quite a mess, chaotically sorting through the cabinets with less of an intention to find whatever she was looking for and instead with the intention of simply taking out some form of anger on the poor boxes of plastic spoons and serving napkins.

“I can’t find this goddamned rice cooker,” Wanda hissed when she saw Agatha standing by the kitchen door frame.

“Cursing the name of the Lord in a church,” Agatha said in feigned disapproval then whistled.

Looking over her shoulder, Wanda shot her friend a poisonous glare then went back to searching for the rice cooker. After a moment, she stood up and slammed the cabinet door shut. “It’s not in here,” she snapped and brought a hand up to her forehead as she sighed out.

“I’ll look. Just cut the vegetables,” Agatha told her and looked through the kitchen while Wanda began rinsing the vegetables. She had no luck with finding the rice cooker either.

From behind her, Wanda was dicing a carrot slice especially aggressively and Agatha turned to see it practically diced to a sad little orange paste. “Honey…” Agatha muttered, leaning against the counter and staring at her. Wanda didn’t respond as she continued to dice the carrot slice into mush. “Wanda.”

She snapped her head up and bit, “What?”

Agatha pointed at the half-paste, half-solid pile of carrot. “I think you got it,” she said, her nose scrunched up.

Wanda looked down at it as if really seeing it for the first time then flicked it off the cutting board and into the sink. She continued dicing the rest of the carrot.

“Something on your mind, sweetpea?” the brunette asked and pulled off a bit of washed broccoli from its head before sticking it in her mouth.

“No.”

Agatha hummed, unconvinced. She continued to watch Wanda dice up the carrots and move onto the bell peppers with startling focus as if she was revenge-chopping the poor things. Then, feeling the need to tease her, she said, “I saw Y/N and Dottie talking outside.”

Wanda visibly bristled and she cut down particularly hard on a slice of yellow pepper so the edge of the knife met loudly with the plastic cutting board. “Did you now?” she asked with a steady voice.

“Have you gotten a chance to speak with her today?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And what?” she asked and looked up from the cutting board.

Slightly amused by seeing her friend so occupied by the thought of someone, Agatha admitted, “I was just wondering, because a few days ago Y/N asked how you were doing.”

“She did?” she inquired, untensing for a moment. Then she looked back down to the bell peppers and continued slicing them. “And what did you say?”

Agatha replied, “I said that you’d been busy. She said that she’d been texting with you but she wanted to know how you were.”

After some silence, Wanda asked, “Has she ever asked you about Dottie?”

It’d been such a long time since she’s seen Wanda behave like this. Repressing a little laugh but not being able to hide her grin, Agatha insisted, “You’re jealous.”

With a scoff and a mockingly amused smile, Wanda replied, “I am not jealous.” Then after a moment she added, “Who would I be jealous of? Dottie? Please.”

“I’d understand if you were. They seem to be quite close.”

At that, Wanda visibly tensed and set the knife down before saying, “How about you pick things up here, and I’ll head back home to fetch a rice cooker? I think I have one in my kitchen.”

It was more of an instruction than a suggestion, for she immediately rounded Agatha before waiting for her response and stormed out of the basement and out of the building.

When Wanda stepped outside, you were no longer standing around with Dottie but instead chatting with one of the teachers from the school’s staff. But Wanda was impatient and now set aflame by Agatha’s purposefully-baiting words, and she walked towards you until she could place a hand against your lower back.

“Hi, honey,” Wanda greeted with a soft smile when you turned your head to look at her. She looked over to Pepper, who you were in the middle of a conversation with. “I apologise, but I have to steal her away from you. I’m afraid I need Y/N’s assistance with something.”

Pepper was more than understanding and bid you a goodbye before Wanda circled her hand around to your hip, bringing you against her.

“Busy, are we?” she asked, looking at you as the two of you headed down the sidewalk to where Wanda’s car was parked.

Not picking up on what she was implying, you replied with a smile, “Not too busy, so I can help you. Where are we going?”

“Back to my place. There’s a rice cooker I need to pick up for the church and I need someone to help me look,” Wanda answered and let go of you to round the car and unlock the doors. She slid into the driver’s seat.

You buckled yourself into the passenger’s seat and immediately felt more comfortable having a break from the bustling crowds of people. And you were finally able to spend some time with Wanda again.

“Let me get you a drink,” Wanda offered when arrived at her house and passed by her kitchen. “It’s hot out there.”

You didn’t decline, for when you ran your tongue against the roof of your mouth you realised how thirsty you were, especially after doing not much else but talking with people the whole time.

While Wanda poured what looked like homemade lemonade into a glass, she said, “I wasn’t aware that you were so popular, Y/N.”

You looked up, but her eyes were focused on the pitcher of lemonade. “I’m not popular,” you said, laughing a little at the mere suggestion. You stepped into the kitchen in front of the island counter where Wanda was pouring your drink.

“No?” She looked up from the glass and set the pitcher down. She chuckled a little and did away with your suspicions that she was upset with you. “It looked like everyone was lining up just to talk with you.” She slid your glass of lemonade over to you. “You didn’t notice?”

“I, um… Well, I guess not.”

Pleased with your simplicity, Wanda leaned against the counter and rested her cheek against the heel of her hand. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” she reassured and watched you take a drink of the lemonade, her eyes focused on the way your lips parted around the rim of the glass. She felt far more comfortable than she was before now that she was alone with you, having you to herself and not having to worry about the next time you might be stolen away from her.

After a few moments of watching how cute you looked sitting at the island complimenting how good her homemade lemonade was, Wanda said, “Shall we start looking for the rice cooker? I believe it’s in the storage closet.”

You set the glass down and Wanda led you forward to the storage closet, which was just by the doorframe of the entrance to the kitchen. You searched through it then crouched down to start digging through the set of boxes on the floor.

Wanda’s phone buzzed with a text and she turned to take her phone out of her purse on top of the kitchen counter. The text was from Monica that read: ‘Agatha and I found the rice cooker!! I’m so sorry that you had to drive all the way back home.’

Keeping her expression still, she tucked her phone back into her purse then turned to you as you continued to dig through the lowest shelf of the storage closet. Her eyes were trained on your ass as you had your back turned to her unassumingly. She leaned back against the kitchen counter, watching you from behind.

“I found it!” you said and carefully manoeuvred a box out from the back of the closet. The rice cooker was still in its box, likely having been used about a handful of times since it was purchased.

To Wanda’s dismay, you stood back up and closed the closet door. But when you turned around with the most eager little smile on your face from having found what she was looking for, she felt warmed.

“Thank you, honey,” Wanda cooed and took the box from you. She set it down onto the kitchen counter by her purse. She turned back around and her breath hitched when she felt herself fueled with a twinge of adrenaline at the sight of you.

After weeks of being away from you and a chaotic day of watching you talk with nearly everyone else but her, Wanda reached out and wrapped her fingers around the corner of your shirt, gently tugging you towards her.

Your face flushed and you looked away from her, but the closer she brought you, the more difficult it became to do anything but look into her eyes that were trained on your face.

“Y/N, there is something I’ve been meaning to give you. It’s upstairs,” she whispered when you were close enough to hear the quiet hush of her voice. The tip of her tongue peeked out when she ran it across her bottom lip and she asked, “Would you mind coming up with me?”

You swallowed and felt yourself nodding, but you weren’t entirely sure if you really did nod or if you just imagined it; you sort of felt a bit lightheaded.

A ghost of a smirk formed on Wanda’s lips and she let go of your shirt before she led you towards the staircase and up to the second level of the house.

Your heart began beating faster in your chest as you continued to follow behind her nervously. You hesitated a moment when Wanda opened her bedroom door and stepped in, but eventually you forced yourself forward and followed her to the closed closet.

She turned around suddenly and asked, “Can I ask you a question, Y/N?”

“S-Sure,” you stuttered, feeling out of place.

Wanda stepped forward so her face was just inches in front of yours. “Have you ever been with a woman before, sweetheart?”

You felt no need to lie, and you felt no need to be embarrassed around Wanda although you felt that your face was warm and flushed.

When you nodded, Wanda added, “More than once?” She seemed increasingly interested at your second nod as she raised her eyebrows in piqued interest, a small intrigued smirk forming on her lips.

“You enjoyed yourself?” she asked, now overtly teasing you as her fingers ran down the collar of your shirt.

You nodded once more, and she was appreciative of your willingness to answer her questions with little hesitation. Then her eyes flickered up from your shirt to your face, curious juniper irises sinking into your focus. “And men?” she inquired with a slight tip of her head.

This time you shook your head and Wanda’s breath seemed to hitch, her interest now at an all-time high.

Her fingers tightened around the collar of your shirt and she pulled you towards her, crushing your lips against hers. She was quick to take control of the kiss and tip her head to the side. Her hand let go of your shirt and she wrapped her fingers around the back of your neck, releasing a soft moan in the form of a warm exhale into your open mouth.

She pulled you backwards with her as she reached for the knob of her closet door. She opened it and pulled you in then momentarily disconnected from your lips to search for something.

You were distracted by the sight of her lips that were parted to allow her to pant softly. You leaned forward and pressed kisses up her neck, causing Wanda to stumble back slightly and hum out with pleasured appreciation. Her fingers ran up the back of your head and were interlaced with your hair, encouraging you to continue kissing her neck.

Her head pulled back enough to uncover your eyes and she lifted an all-black silicone cock already attached to its harness up to your face. Your eyes widened at the sight of the toy and Wanda leaned down to press her lips against your ear so she could whisper, “I want you to fuck me.”

When she read in your expression that you were more nervous than shocked that Wanda had brought the topic up to you, she reassured, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, honey.”

“B-But I want…” You raised your head and looked at her with a determined look in your eyes. “I want to. I want to make you feel good.”

Wanda grinned and she kissed you. “That’s sweet of you, but I want you to enjoy yourself too. We can go as slow or fast as you’d like. How about you start whatever speed you’re comfortable with, hm? And we can work from there.”

“I know you’ve had better…” you said quietly, bouts of your insecurity evident in your soft, unsure tone of voice. Though you didn’t explicitly mention it, the both of you knew exactly what you were referencing.

Wanda wasn’t surprised and instead just grinned and asked in a teasing way, “Who told you about that?”

You looked away, embarrassed. You hadn’t meant to bring it up.

She leaned forward and kissed the corner of your mouth before grinning against it and saying, “Does that make you jealous?” She was looking up at you mischievously. Then you look away again, the other way so she disconnected from the corner of your lips.

Wanda walked forward so you were forced to walk back out of the closet and into her bedroom again. She closed the closet door behind her and nudged you backwards so you were forced to sit at the edge of her bed. She placed the strap down by your hip.

“Does that interest you?” she asked and began to unbutton her blouse as she looked down at you sitting on her bed with the most innocent little eyes. “Thinking about how I had a cock shoved down my throat while I jerked two more off with my hands, watching them stroke their dicks to how I was getting my ass fucked underneath them, cum in my hair and on my tits, being violated by all those braindead men just so I could get off until I was — almost — just as fucked stupid as they were.”

She giggled when you were in a deep stupor, eyes following her fingers and listening to her every word. She slipped her blouse off her shoulders and let it slip to the bedroom floor before working on her shorts, unbuttoning the top then unzipping it, revealing a maroon pair of panties that matched her bra.

“Well, you don’t have to think about that anymore,” she said when she was now only in her lingerie. She held your chin in her hands and tipped your head up to look at her. She stepped forward between your legs so your face was perhaps only an inch or two away from her tits. “Because what’ll be far more interesting is what I’m going to do with you.”

Wanda leaned down and kissed you, and with her other hand, began undressing you. You helped her and she couldn’t help but blush seeing how eager you were to have sex with her. She kissed down your body as she continued to undress your body.

“Besides, honey, it’s different,” she muttered against your shoulder as she kissed up to your neck. “It matters to me who I’m having sex with. Sex isn’t just a thing you do. It’s more than that. It’s about connection and passion, though sometimes it can be purely shallow. Like it was that time.

“But it’s far sexier doing it with someone you connect with. Don’t you feel the same?”

You met her eyes when she lifted her head, her hair coming loose from the hair tie that had been holding it back neatly through the day. “I agree,” you said to her.

Though you spoke little sometimes, overtaken by feelings of nerves and overwhelming libido, Wanda understood you completely. She liked how soft-spoken and sensitive you were. She couldn’t wait to have someone so delicate and gentle rough-fuck her from behind. How terribly she wanted to have you moan in her ear, telling her how much you loved her pussy.

She ran her hands up your sides, caressing your body with gentle admiration and affection. She kissed the swells of your breasts. “You’re such a sweet girl, Y/N,” she cooed and stood up once she fastened the harness around your hips. She brought your head against her chest and kissed your temple. She was so affectionate and was full of so much passion. Her touches were so soft as she led you further up onto the bed and climbed on top of you. Her hands rounded her body and she unclipped her bra so she could discard it onto the floor.

“Wanda, you’re so gorgeous,” you uttered as you ran your eyes up her body.

She allowed herself only a moment or two to blush at your compliment before she ran her palms up your chest and rubbed her still-clothed centre against your cock. “Are you just going to lay there and talk about it the whole time?” she questioned.

You gripped her hips harshly and pulled her down onto you so you could reach her lips and kiss them. Your hands adjusted their positions and you flipped her around and got on top of her, eliciting a tiny giggle from the older woman.

Moving down her body, you gently flicked your tongue across one of her erect nipples before you suddenly bit down on it, causing her to yelp and reach up to cradle the back of your head. You kissed the plain of her stomach, nipping at the soft flesh and running a flattened tongue over the stretch marks over her hips. She made a noise of appreciation and continued petting your head, watching you cover her body in your delicate traces of adoration.

Her hand moved to the side of your face and lifted your head, allowing her to turn onto her stomach and lift herself onto her elbows. When you straightened onto your knees, she lifted her ass into the air and pressed back against your strap.

Wordlessly, Wanda looked back at you over her shoulder with eyes that dared you to go further and an ass that stroked the length of your cock in the most mesmerising way you’d ever seen.

With shaky fingers, you pulled her panties to the side and found her wet cunt sticking to the fabric, pink folds glistening and sticking out from between gorgeous smooth thighs. Not being able to help yourself, you leaned down and ran your tongue through her pussy, making Wanda shudder. She tasted unbelievably good.

Your own cunt throbbed and you knew you had to do more. You parted from her sticky mess and pressed a kiss to the hood of her clit before straightening again.

Wanda hastily dug through the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out a clear bottle then reached back and handed it to you. Quickly, you squirted the lube into your hand then lathered your cock in it. Wanda took the bottle back and discarded it somewhere on the bed, uncaring of where it ended up for the time being.

She whimpered when you ran the length of your cock along her cunt, especially when you took her folds between your thumb and forefinger and ran it right through. The lubed strap slid beautifully across the delicate pink and Wanda felt herself trickle down onto her throbbing clit.

Wanda encouraged, “Don’t rush if you don’t want to. That makes me feel really good.”

Her panties threatened to slip back into place and you became impatient and pulled back a bit, tugging her panties down her thighs and from her ankles.

“Someone’s impa–” Wanda was cut off suddenly when you shoved your cock into her without warning, making her gasp and flinch forward, eyes squeezed shut as she was forced to adjust to your size. It didn’t help that you immediately began thrusting into her, making Wanda nearly lose her balance and fall forward. But she kept herself up with her ass in the air for you.

She didn’t have time to think of how shocking it was that such a quiet and docile girl like you had such fire brewing within her, for she was immediately overtaken by her desire.

“Pull my hair,” she instructed between groans and you obliged, reaching forward and taking a handful of her shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. “Tighter,” she said, and you tightened your fingers into a stern fist, pulling Wanda backwards and watching as her back curved into a beautiful arch.

“Oh, that’s right, Y/N!” she yelped as you quickened your hips against her. “Perfect.” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as you watched her ass redden and bounce from the harshness of your thrusts.

Wanda reached back to get your attention. “Spank me,” she told you.

Following her instruction, you brought your hand up and back down to deliver a harsh spank to her ass. You truly couldn’t believe the effect it had on her. She lost balance and laid flat against the bed, her arms being unable to hold herself up as she squealed out.

You spanked her repeatedly like she wanted, each time eliciting a tiny whimper from her with half her face buried in her blankets. You pulled your cock out of her and rubbed her throbbing clit with the pads of your fingers. She groaned when you left her and she looked back at you, watching as your eyes ran over her pussy.

Her cunt was swollen and so beautiful, the trimmed tuft of dark hair and the shade of soft pink glistening from the juices dripping from her hole that squeezed around nothing, desperate for more of your cock.

Her pussy was so, so perfect.

“Y/N,” Wanda said, speaking with a gentle rasp to her voice. “I can only be patient for so long. I need your cock.” She said it with a soft smile on her lips, and although her shoulder partially-shrouded it, you could see her cheeks were tinted a soft pink as she’d watched you look her over with such overwhelming admiration.

You pressed a kiss to her opening then straightened back up, repositioning yourself against her. You were distracted momentarily when you looked down and saw her looking up at you, green eyes still so full of appreciation for you.

Then suddenly she repositioned herself and turned onto her back. She sat up for a second and wrapped her arms around your waist before pulling you down onto her. Her lips met yours in a gentle, passionate kiss.

Wanda was amused by how distracted you were by her and she kissed your cheek while she reached down and entered your cock into her opening herself. Her legs wrapped around your hips and she tightened them around you, moaning into your ear as you slowly entered her again.

“Say that I’m a desperate slut who loves to get fucked.”

“W-Wanda,” you panted. “You’re a desperate slut that wants nothing but to get her pussy fucked.”

“That’s right,” she purred, her thighs tightening around your hips. “Mommy’s just a dirty bitch who’s nothing without a cock filling up her filthy fuckholes. Ah… Don’t you like that, Y/N?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on fucking her how she liked, and a part of you almost felt bad for the way she degraded herself for no other lover you’d ever had has ever spoken like that. But fuck, Wanda was right — it was hot.

“I-I like that, mommy,” you confessed.

“Oh, I know you do.” She pet the back of your head. “Make mommy come, angel. I’ve had such a hard last few weeks, baby. Doesn’t mommy deserve to feel good? She does, doesn’t she?”

You opened your eyes and nodded, the sincerity in your eyes as you agreed that Wanda needed to feel good after the last few weeks making her melt. “I wanna make mommy feel good…” you mumbled. “Make mommy come.”

Wanda groped her breast then twisted her nipple between her fingers. You leaned down and wrapped your lips around her other hardened bud, making her moan out and arch her back up against your body.

Feeling her lower stomach tighten with a familiar, beloved pressure, Wanda wrapped her legs around your firmly and crossed her ankles against your lower back. She manually fucked herself up against you, bringing her hips up and meeting yours repeatedly in desperation. It was a messy out-of-sync attempt at first as you continued to thrust into her, but the both of you soon found a rhythm with Wanda fucking herself and you pounding her back into her bed.

“Fuck, Y/N,” she mewled into your ear. “I’m–”

She was cut off when her orgasm was wrenched out of her, and she arched her back up and clung onto you, her arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you close. Her fingernails scratched down your back and she cried out loudly, throwing her head back and exposing her neck.

You released her nipple and kissed up her neck until your lips reached her cheek and you could watch her orgasm come over her, your other hand cradling the side of her head as her eyes clenched shut and her jaw was slack, a guttural cry being pulled out of her.

Then finally she slumped back down onto the bed tiredly, her body a sore and sweaty mess of weak limbs. She shook with the tremors of her orgasm’s aftermath and you fell to her side, hugging her around her waist and burying your face in her sweet-smelling hair. She reached up and intertwined her fingers with your hair, fingernails gently scratching at the back of your head.

“That was the best sex I’ve had in a very, very long time,” she huffed out. She’d forgotten how good it felt to have sex wanting to have every string attached.

Wanda turned her head and looked at you. “Y/N,” she said seriously. She cupped your cheek with her hand and stroked her thumb against your soft skin. “I want to commit to you. And you only.”

You perked up and lifted yourself onto your elbow. “So we can… date?”

She laughed and pulled you down so she could kiss your cheek. She spoke against it, “You are the most unassuming, sincere person I have ever met.”

“I-Is that a yes?”

“That’s a yes, honey.”

You practically beamed and Wanda could only laugh again, feeling such a warm burst of joy spreading through her at the sight of you and how happy you looked.

“I’ve never started dating someone right after having sex with them,” you said, looking down at her with your head above hers. Your hand was on her stomach, drawing gentle shapes against it.

“Does that bother you?” she asked quietly, lifting both her hands to either side of your face.

You shook your head immediately, the happy smile reminiscent of a small puppy.

A large smile pulled at Wanda's lips. “You are a terribly, terribly lovely girl, Y/N,” she said then kissed you. When she laid her head back down and looked up at you, the both of you exchanged a silent stare in which every hope for your relationship was conveyed in the silent fondness you shared looking at each other.

Wanda turned her head and looked at the clock on the nightstand. “I think we can get away with making me come one more time before we have to go back.” She moved herself closer to you and had you lay down beside her. “Make me come with your fingers.”

She spread her legs and rubbed her fingers against her wet folds while she tucked her other hand between your legs and met your cunt with them. She slid two manicured fingers into her pussy at the same time she entered you.

Eventually after a few moments when she’d become bored of herself, she pulled out and took your wrist, placing your fingers against her warm pussy. You started fingering her while Wanda continued with her own hand still tucked between your thighs, gentle and smooth and ensuring you could follow her lead, feeling with your tight walls the way she carefully fucked her fingers in and out of you.

“You feel amazing,” she uttered against your lips. “So wet.” She leaned forward and tugged at your earlobe with her teeth. “I wanna see you come for me.”

Wanda quickened her fingers and you did the same, following her obediently. Soon, the both of you were exclusively reliant on each other for your releases, mutual pleasure tying the two of you together in the sweaty meshing of your bodies amongst Wanda’s soft bed sheets and heavy exhales from your mouths.

Finally, with Wanda holding herself back until she felt you near your orgasm, the both of you came together, tightening around each other’s fingers and for a moment making it seem like you shared a body, crying out against each other and feeling the other come around their fingers as they felt themselves riding through their orgasms.

A few minutes later, the both of you were a cluster of two warm bodies, limbs entangled with each other. Your head was on Wanda’s chest as she stroked your hair and held your hand, your other idly running its thumb across the stretch marks that went up the side of her stomach.

The strap had been removed and was laying by the bottle of lube Wanda eventually found so she could be reminded to clean it properly later.

“Why all of this so suddenly?” you asked, looking up at her from her shoulder. “I mean, bringing me home and then confessing and everything.”

Wanda hummed and circled a lock of your hair around her forefinger. “I’d just had it on my mind for a while, and it’d been so long since I last had you to myself,” she explained. “So I suppose when we got time alone, I just couldn’t wait anymore.”

“Agatha said you were jealous earlier.”

Her face contorted and she looked down at you as if she thought she hadn’t heard it right the first time. At the sight of you and realising you were serious, she looked away and attempted to conceal her embarrassed expression with a laugh.

“What? Why would she–” She tried to chuckle, but it came out sounding nervous. “Agatha doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” she insisted with a shake of her head.

Then after a moment, more seriously albeit still hesitant, she asked, “Why did she say that?”

“She said you looked jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” Wanda asserted. “I wasn’t.”

You smiled, and for the first time, Wanda didn’t catch onto the subtleties of your expression because she was occupied trying to obscure her own. It didn’t take long for you to catch onto the fact that she truly had been feeling jealous earlier.

“Besides,” she said, “you’re mine now, so…” She looked over at you and pulled you close so her body was against yours. “No reason to feel jealous anymore, is there?”

With a grin, you climbed onto her lap and Wanda placed her hands on your hips. You leaned down so your foreheads were pressed against each other. “No reason at all,” you answered.

Wanda kissed you and you felt her grin widely against your lips.

“Good,” she said.

Neither of you realised nor would you care if either of you remembered that you’d both been expected back at the festival nearly forty minutes ago.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #elizabeth olsen

1K notes · View notes

sadhours · 2 years ago

Text

simmer down - 2

masterlist • requests are open • read on ao3

previous chapter

warnings: 18+ minors dni, reader x steve, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), swallowing, slow burn, angst, this is end game Billy x reader I promise

summary: you think maybe you can fall back into secretly hooking up with Steve, even if Billy knows. you find that he isn’t going to tell your brother, Tommy. but he’s sure as hell gonna tease you about it.

By some weird force of nature, Billy hasn’t spilled your secret. It’s stressing you out that he even knows at all, because he doesn’t know much of anything about you. And now he’s the sole holder of that secret. You don’t know Billy so you’ve got no clue if you could really trust him to keep his mouth shut. The other night at dinner, Tommy announced that Billy had joined the basketball team and you panicked because Steve is on the team. The possibility of Billy saying something makes you absolutely sick to your stomach.

You used to fuck off with Carol during practice but since Billy’s joined, the two of you sit in the gym and watch now. It’s tough to watch, Billy has this need to antagonize Steve and you end up feeling sorry for Steve. He’s not as good on his feet as the Californian. And Billy’s a fucking show off. He dribbles the ball between his legs and is constantly attempting trick shots. What’s worse is he makes them ninety percent of the time and everyone cheers. You can see the annoyance on Steve’s face, his comebacks aren’t as well executed as Billy’s. Also, how Billy always ends up on skins while Steve ends up on shirts seems intentional, like either Billy asks the coach or the coach really likes to see them compete.

“It’s insane to see Steve like this,” Carol mumbles to you, nudging your shoulder as she does so. “He used to be such a hot shot.”

You wince, watching Billy knock Steve onto his back and grin wildly down at the brunette. It’s definitely a foul, yet the coach doesn’t call it out. No, instead he yells for Steve to get up.

“Billy’s kind of a dick,” you admit, your face scrunched up in secondhand embarrassment for Steve.

Carol shrugs, “He’s just a better player. Steve’s so pathetic, it just looks sad.”

With a sigh you can’t help but agree. It’s only solidifying Steve’s fall from grace. You can’t really imagine Billy taking his place though, he’s in a far different league of his own. He’s exotic in ways Steve isn’t. Billy’s not rich but he has a way cooler car than Steve. He hasn’t spent his entire life in Hawkins and you make a internal note to ask him more about the west coast. Talking to Billy was surprisingly easy. Sometimes you’d catch yourself rambling on and repeating yourself because you’d get so excited about whatever you were talking about and he was an amazing listener. He asked questions, nodded along and laughed when you apologized for talking too much. The crush was kind of growing, but you were pretty sure it would pass. He was pretty regularly hooking up with Tina, she’d tell you and Carol all about it and you pretended not to picture yourself with him while she described their encounters.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by Billy’s maniacal cackling and Steve whining, “Coach! Come on! That was totally illegal!”

Carol’s laughing along with Billy, but you can’t help but agree with Steve. He plays dirty, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. It is also glaringly obvious how sexy he is. You find yourself thinking about licking the sweat off his chest. Why did he always have to be skins?

This was torture but you enjoyed it enough to keep following Carol into the gym every other day. And after practice you’d walk with Billy to his car if Tina wasn’t around. Today she wasn’t, so here you are standing next to that pretty blue Camaro looking up at even prettier blue eyes. Billy’s hair is still wet from his shower. He shrugs off the compliments from Tommy and Carol while he lights a cigarette. He gives you this look when Steve walks to his car and your eyes linger, watching Steve’s tall legs as he strides past the four of you.

“So what’s the move?” Tommy asks, “You wanna come over and listen to records?”

Billy shakes his head, sucking on the Marlboro before frowning, “Gotta watch my step sister.”

“It’s Friday,” Carol points out and Billy scoffs, though his lips are turned up in a slight smile.

“I’ll be free around nine,” he says.

“We can go to quarry,” you suggest, raising an eyebrow up.

Tommy grins, “That could be fun. You down, Hargrove?”

Billy smiles, “Sounds like some hick shit. Count me in.”

Your head turns as you hear polyurethane wheels against the gravel, seeing the redhead barreling towards the Camaro. She’s got this pissed off look on her face and Billy’s smile quickly falls as he hands you the rest of his smoke.

“See you then,” he says, looking at you before tossing his bag in the backseat and climbing in the front seat. His step sister doesn’t even spare any of you a look as she climbs in the opposite side. Billy pulls his sunglasses down and shoots you a wink before he reverses out of his spot and speeds off. Carol squeals and slaps your arm.

Tommy groans, “Absolutely not. Do not fuck him.”

Carol pushes him gently, “He totally likes her, who are you to get in the way of that?”

You shake your head, “I’m not going to fuck him. Let’s go.”

;;;

Carol insists you ride with Billy, so you can give him directions. Tommy doesn’t protest but you can see it on his face. Billy’s car is very clean, it’s the first thing you notice. You know he smokes in the car, he’s doing it now, but there’s no ash lingering on the dash and it smells like leather and well… man. It smells like a man. His cassettes are organized alphabetically in the glove compartment, you notice it when he asks you to pick one out. You settle on a Def Leppard album and he doesn’t have anything to say about it but he drums his fingers against the steering wheel along with the music. He’s got a six pack of beer, placed neatly next to your feet and he drives slower than you expected.

“So…” he muses, passing the cigarette to you, “Is King Steve a good lay?”

“Oh my god,” you flush, dragging your hand down your face.

Billy cackles, “That embarrassment tells me yes. If he were shit in the sack, you wouldn’t be so fucking red.”

“Why do you even want to know?” you grumble, taking a hit of his cigarette and passing it back.

He takes it and drags his tongue across his lower lip, “I guess I don’t. It’s just funny to see you turn that color.”

“Is Tina good?” you try to make him feel as embarrassed as you are.

You don’t know what you anticipated, though. He just grins big and wide, leaning his head back to look at you while he says, “She’s alright. I do most the work so I don’t know if I’d say she’s good. But I get what I need.”

“Gross,” you roll your eyes and snatch the Marlboro back from him. “That’s not how she retells it.”

Billy hums and then purses his lips, “She does have a big mouth. She tell you anything you didn’t wanna know?”

You scoff, “Yeah, everything.”

“She describe my dick?” he asks, eyes crinkling up with his cocky grin.

“Feel like I’m old friends with it,” you exhale, trying not to picture it.

Billy laughs, it’s loud and genuine and you hate the way it makes you feel all warm inside. A part of you wants to open the door and roll yourself down the cliff he’s driving along.

“I always knew girls talked about that stuff.”

“It’s all she talks about. You better be careful, I think she’s obsessed with you,” you reply, “Most girls don’t do that, by the way.”

“That…” he starts, “Or you just haven’t had it good enough to brag about.”

“Oh, I could brag,” you say, tossing the cigarette butt out the window.

Billy scoffs, “Then why don’t you? Why not shack up with King Steve? Make it official.”

“Neither of us want that. We’re perfectly fine with no one knowing.”

You don’t dare tell Billy that all you want is for Steve to make it official. You can’t admit aloud that Steve is using you and you’re fully aware of it and so deeply hurt by it but you like him too much to do anything about it. Unfortunately, Billy’s smart and he can see deep into you somehow.

“You mean Harrington’s fine with you being a secret.”

“Tommy wouldn’t take kindly to me hooking up with his childhood best friend,” you supply with a shrug.

“You hook up with him since? Or was it a moment of weakness?” Billy asks, the question makes you squirm in your seat. You don’t want to answer it so you don’t. And you don’t have to.

“Take the next left, it’s like maybe half a mile and then it’s like a grass field you can park on,” you instruct him.

“Yes ma’am,” he purrs, peering in his rearview mirror to see Tommy and Carol behind. “You secretly fuck all your brothers friends or is the King just special?”

“Shut up.”

He does, shocking you as his lips straighten up and he looks ahead intently. You don’t know why he seems upset but you’re not trying to figure it out either. You’re not gonna get your hopes up and assume that was his way of propositioning you.

;;;

You’re three beers in and you feel it, you skipped dinner because you were nervous about tonight. The happy buzz spreading through you is exactly what you needed. It’s kind of dampened when Carol and Tommy sneak off and you’re left sitting in the grass with Billy, staring over the edge of the cliff down to the water.

“Tina’s just�� there,” he says and it surprises you. There’s a slur to his words and you’re sure Billy’s just as buzzed as you are. “Like I don’t know she kind of just forced herself on me and it was easy and I’m fucking bored in this stupid town.”

“We’re all bored here,” you admit, “nothing to do but get drunk and fuck.”

“Like she’s pretty and all, but she’s kind of trying to box me in and I’m not into it,” he keeps ranting and it’s odd, Billy let’s you talk and talk and talk but he doesn’t usually do it himself.

“Aw, is Billy Hargrove not a one woman kind of guy?” you fake a pout.

He chuckles, “What’s the point? I’m young and love is bullshit. It’s not real. It’s just what people say to manipulate you into doing what they want you to do.”

You can’t help but think about the way Steve looked at Nancy, like she was the reason the fucking sun shines. He doesn’t look at you like that. You’re an end to a means. Something easy for him to get his rocks off. Either Billy’s been burned or he doesn’t think too highly of women.

“Someone break your heart?”

He shakes his head with a scoff, “No one can break it if they don’t have it.”

“That’s smart, I guess…”

“What about you? Anyone break yours?” he asks, laying on his back but turning his body to look up at you.

“I’ve never had a boyfriend,” you admit, laying on your back and turning to meet Billy’s eyes.

He smiles, it’s warm and fuzzy and you can stare at him all night. “I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

“We’re a couple of losers,” you joke, giggling softly when he laughs.

“As long as we’re not idiots.”

“Love makes you an idiot?”

“Oh, it’s not a real thing, but believing you’re in love makes you an idiot,” he mumbles, turning to face the sky. “You know anything about stars?”

You follow his eyes, looking up at the sparkles illuminating the backlit canopy that is the night sky. You don’t but now you wish you did. “They blink when they’re dying apparently, and like… when we see that, we’re watching the past or something? Like the star itself has died but we’re light years away and so it hasn’t happened yet? I guess? I have no idea what I’m talking about.”

Billy laughs softly and goes silent for a beat, “Can’t see this many stars back home. There’s too many lights.”

You hum, “What do you miss most about home?”

He sighs, “The ocean, for sure. I surf.”

“You surf?” you ask, a little shocked but you can picture it, the salty water soaking his hair and you wonder if maybe there’s a chance you could still smell it on him.

“Or I guess I used to. No waves here,” he muses, sounding more melancholy than you’ve ever heard.

It makes you sad. You imagine what he was like back home. What else he got up to besides surfing. You have no idea what to say. You want to comfort him but how could you?

“Oh, food too. The food here sucks,” he laughs, “The only Mexican food you fucks have is Taco Bell.”

“I like Taco Bell,” you knit your eyebrows together and Billy giggles.

“I want tamales. I want menudo.”

These foods are foreign to you but you know Taco Bell doesn’t offer them.

“My best friend, Argyle, his mom made the best food,” he says, sounding nostalgic and happy while he reminisces. “I was over at their place like every night for dinner. My dad didn’t cook. We had like TV dinners before Susan came along and she can’t cook for shit, but I mean, she tries.”

“You can come to ours for dinner,” you offer, “Might not be Mexican food but my mom cooks well.”

Billy giggles, again, and you start to feel light headed, you want to say fuck it and pounce on him. But there’s no way he wants you to do that.

“I like your moms cooking, yeah…” he trails off and then points up at the sky. “Did you see that? Shooting star!”

You nod, you were just in the middle of wishing on it, wishing Billy would kiss you. Before the wish can even come true, Tommy and Carol come stumbling back.

“Good fuck?” Billy asks as he remains laid on his back.

You sit up and gag as Tommy answers, “Yeah it was! She let me stick it—“

He’s interrupted by Carol forcing her hand over his mouth, “Tommy! For fucks sake! Shut up!”

Billy lets out a cackle, lacing his fingers together over his stomach as he continues staring up at the sky.

“What did you two get up to?” Carol asks in a sing-song voice as she sits beside you.

“This,” Billy deadpans as you turn to glare at her. “You two fucks know anything about stars?”

“No,” Tommy admits almost sheepishly as he lays next to Billy. “Like I know the Big Dipper and shit but that’s it.”

The blonde hums in response and Carol nudges your side.

“I have to pee, come with,” she says as she stands up, reaching for your hand and helping you stand with her.

When you turn to look at the two boys, Billy turns his head to look at you. His expression is unreadable but there’s something in his eyes that makes your stomach do flips. You wish you knew what he was thinking. You follow Carol’s footsteps away, a spot hidden by trees but too far away. Carol pulls her pants down and squats, looking up at you with her elbows resting on her knees.

“Did you guys kiss?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes before you answer, “No. We talked.”

“Ugh,” she groans, “That’s all you guys ever do.”

“Maybe Billy isn’t into me, did you ever think about that?”

Carol shakes her head, “No, that’s stupid, he totally is.”

You wonder how she could possibly know that, if maybe Billy’s said something to her and Tommy when you weren’t around. But that seems unlikely. You think that if he was interested, he would’ve already made a move by now. And besides, you’re still so wrapped up in Steve. Anything you’ve felt for Billy has just been because he’s extremely attractive and that doesn’t mean you like him, it just means your eyes are functioning.

“How do you know?”

Carol pulls her pants up and shrugs, “Just a feeling. Come on, I’m so exhausted.”

“Gross,” you shake your head but follow her back. The boys have gotten up and Billy’s standing beside his car.

“I’ll see you guys later,” he calls out before climbing in and driving away. It’s strange how quickly he left but you try not to dwell on it. You can’t help but wonder what him and Tommy talked about.

;;;

Steve looks to you, his elbow is a little close to your face but you don’t mind. How could you when you just swallowed his cum? Not to mention how soft and handsome he looks. His eyes are so big and brown and pretty.

“That was awesome,” he says and smiles around the last word, his teeth on display.

You giggle and lean over, cupping his face in your hands as you kiss him. He welcomes you in his arms, smiling against your lips and pulling you closer. His hands feel nice on your waist, you melt against him and you can’t help yourself as you deepen the kiss.

When you pull away he says something that makes your head spin, “You’re so easy to be around.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” you tell him and stroke his cheek with your thumb. “I like looking at you.”

He laughs, smoothing his hands up your back, “I mean it… with Nancy, there was like all this pressure and she’s so kind and smart but I felt like I was disappointing her.”

You hate when he talks about her, when he compares the two of you because you’re so fully aware of how different you and Nancy are. You hate the knowledge but you know Nancy wasn’t as eager in bed. You’ve got more experience than her in the field. You think maybe you should be ashamed by your sex drive and how hungry you get when it comes to Steve. But then you think about the sweet and whiny sounds he makes when he’s about to climax and you don’t care, you love to make him feel good.

“Well… I know you. I’ve known you almost my whole life,” you reply, combing your fingers through his hair. “I don’t want you to be anyone other than yourself, Steve.”

“Remember when I used to play Barbie’s with you?” he asks, grinning up at you.

“Remember when you taught me how to kiss?” you smirk, leaning down to brush your lips together.

Steve moans softly, allowing your tongue past his lips and he deepens it, grabbing onto the back of your neck. With that, you’re ready for round two as you reminisce on the night Steve snuck into your room and asked if you’d ever been kissed, how you told him no and he said he’d show you. The way he held you gently and licked slowly into your mouth. You remember how turned on you got and how you could feel Steve’s hard on in his pajamas but the two of you didn’t do anything but kiss until the sun came up and then he snuck back into Tommy’s room before anyone woke up.

He pulls back from the kiss with a loud pop and says, “Remember how I took your virginity?”

You roll your hips against him at the memory. It was your fifteenth birthday. Steve was there for the family party and insisted he threw you an after party at his house. Late into the night, after everyone had left and Tommy and Carol had passed out, Steve lead you up to his room. He slowly undressed you, kissing all over your whole body and asked if you were ready for your present. It was gentle and so wonderful and you were so sure you were madly in love with him by the end of it. He kissed all over your face and kept saying, “Happy Birthday, beautiful.”

Now, in this moment, thinking back, you want to cry. How could he just leave you for Nancy like that? Steve had made you feel so special like he loved you or something. But what sucks… is you feel it again. Looking down at him, naked in his bed all this time later. Well, it hasn’t been that long but still, a lot has happened.

“I’m happy it was you I gave it to,” you say, smiling.

“Me too…” Steve mumbles, pulling you back for another heated kiss.

He’s hard again, you feel his cock fill out against your thigh while you lick into his mouth, tongues meeting and swirling together. It’s so easy, falling back into the routine of secret rendezvous with him. As long as Billy stays under the impression it was one time, you’re safe. You can keep this up, you can keep getting this little piece of Steve.

“Baby,” he whines when you angle your hips so his cock brushes against your aching center.

You love when he calls you that. You can almost pretend he’s your boyfriend.

“Can’t believe you already wanna go again,” he mumbles, grabbing onto your hips so he can help you get him inside. You gasp when you do, wriggling your hips down and grinding against him. You keep your hand on his face as you bounce on top of him, aimlessly stroking your thumb against his cheekbone. He keeps licking his teeth and lips while his eyebrows knit together, eyes locked on yours.

You sigh softly, “S’your fault. You get me so worked up.”

“Uh-huh… me too,” he replies, eyes falling down to where your bodies meet, watching the way your pussy swallows his cock up.

It makes you smile and you want to look as sexy as possible for him, so you press your hands on the bed and lean back to give him a better view. It quickly progresses to you placing your feet on the bed so you can move faster and easier. Steve props himself on his elbows to watch, this needy look on his face; his eyebrows scrunched up with his eyes wide and his kiss stained lips parted.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he tells you, voice low.

His words encourage you to work harder, his bed springs squeak and the headboard starts hitting the wall with rhythmic, satisfying thuds. After a moment, Steve can’t help himself and starts jerking his hips up to meet your thrusts. He keeps whimpering and whining, it has you so hot and tingly all over. He wraps his hands around your ankles, watching intently as you ride him.

“Baby, that’s so good,” he babbles, blinking rapidly and it’s one of the tell tale signs that he’s about cum.

You double down, though your thighs and calves are burning from the exertion. It’s all worth it to see Steve fall apart. Once he squeezes his eyes shut and you can see the strain in his neck and jaw, you pull off of him and quickly get your lips wrapped around his cock, closing your eyes tight as you take him as deep as you can and using your hand to stroke what you can’t fit.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m—“ he cries out and then empties down your throat.

He tastes sweet, you’ve always found that strange because you’ve been told that cum taste depends on what they eat and Steve doesn’t eat all that healthy, mostly junk food. Maybe it’s the fruit, he does eat a lot of fruit. You swallow it and pull off him with a loud pop. He’s breathing heavy, eyes still closed tight as he recovers. You rub soothing circles against his thighs as you watch, smiling too yourself.

“C’mere…” he breaths, opening his eyes and looks down to you, “sit on my face.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You straddle his head and Steve wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you down on his mouth. He eats you out sloppily, tongue all over and shaking his head while he does it. You whimper and knot your fingers in his hair, trying to keep your body from tipping over at the pleasure. He digs his fingernails into your thighs, moaning while he licks your pussy. The vibrations of it feel immaculate, your eyes start to roll back and you grind against his face, chasing the high that’s so close you can almost grab it.

“Steve,” you whine out, “right there, oh fuck, yes right there.”

He listens, working his tongue harder against your clit until you’re shaking above him, fingers pulling at his hair while your orgasm crashes through you. You try to hold yourself upright but fail, bending over and muffling your cries in his pillows. He lets you ride it out and when you pull off of him, he’s panting with the widest grin you’ve ever seen. You can’t help but kiss it, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.

He pats your thigh, “Why don’t you stay a little longer? We can watch a movie or something.”

You nod slowly, “Okay… that sounds fun.”

He kisses you again before climbing out of the bed and pulling on a plain t-shirt and his briefs. You also get dressed but you don’t put your pants back on, just your underwear and then you follow him downstairs into the kitchen. You sit up on the counter as he opens the fridge and pulls out two water bottles, offering one to you. You take it graciously and the pair of you swallow them down quickly, smiling at each other as you pant afterward. Steve chuckles softly and then makes his way back to the fridge.

“Ya hungry?”

“I could eat,” you admit, watching as he picks through the groceries. He pulls out fruit. All kinds. Some you’ve never had before. He places them on the counter and you point to one.

“You just eat limes?”

Steve giggles, picking up the fruit and extending it towards you, “It’s guava.”

You hum, looking over the fruit, “I’ve like had it in juice form, I never knew what it looked like.”

Steve takes it back, places it on a cutting board and reaches in the drawer for a knife and spoon. He cuts it open and scoops a spoonful out, passing it to you. You wrap your lips around the spoon and suck down the fruit. It’s very sweet, kind of like a strawberry but also like a pear. You knit your eyebrows together as you chew.

“You don’t like it?” he asks, smiling as he slides between your legs and places his hands on your bare thighs.

You shake your head and say around the mouthful, “No, it’s good.”

After you swallow, Steve kisses you and slides his tongue along your lower lip before pushing past and rubs his tongue against yours. He pulls back and licks his lips, like he’s savoring the taste of the fruit.

“It’s really good,” he says, smirking at you and you flush all over, wanting to kiss him more but he pulls away and starts cleaning the fruit before cutting it up and arranging it on a plate.

“Come on, let’s pick a movie,” he says as he walks out into the living room and you jump off the counter to follow him.

The movie doesn’t matter, you can’t help but watch Steve instead of the TV. He looks so obscene while he’s eating it, sucking the juices and licking them up from his hand and wrist when they drip down. He seems fully interested in the film, even pauses it when you’ve finished the plate of fruit and he goes to wash his hands. You figure you should wash yours too.

When you get back to the couch, he’s laid on it and he makes grabby hands at so you lay in front of him, getting butterflies when he wraps his arms around your waist and presses kisses to your neck. This is by far the most domestic you’ve ever felt with Steve and it makes you feel dizzy and so so warm. You end up passing out on the couch.

;;;

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice wakes you up and you panic, sitting upright.

“Shit,” you gasp, “What time is it?”

Steve shrugs, “Like nine. Why don’t you…” he shakes his head, “No, never mind.”

“No, what?”

“Why don’t you just spend the night?” he asks, shyly as he scratches the back of his neck.

“I… okay,” you can’t believe Steve thought you’d say no to that. “I should probably call home.”

“Yeah, no, totally,” he smiles at you, “You know where the phone is. I’m gonna just clean up the kitchen really quick.”

“Okay,” you tell him and then make your way to the phone. You pick it up and dial home, pressing the phone against your ear.

After two rings, Tommy picks up, “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” you say, twirling the chord around your finger, “Can you—“

“Where have you been?” he asks, sounding concerned.

“At a friends. I accidentally fell asleep,” you explain, “Can you—“

“What friends?”

“Becca’s,” you quickly lie, you can tell her at school tomorrow to back you up. “Can you tell mom and dad I’m gonna crash here tonight?”

“Sure you’re not with a guy?” Tommy asks and you scoff.

“I’m not at a guys house. Can you tell them please?”

“Fine. But tomorrow we’re all going to hang out at Skull Rock. Carol wants you to come,” he says.

“Yeah, cool, I’ll be there,” you say, turning to see Steve leaning against the doorway and smiling at you. “Thanks, Tommy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hang up quickly and turn to smile back at Steve, “You’ve got me until the morning.”

Steve steps closer and wraps his arms around your waist, “Oh, that’s a long time. I wonder how we can spend the time…”

You giggle, melting at his touch.

“Wanna listen to my Abba record?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks down at you.

“Jesus, Steve, again?” you blush, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I bet I we could listen to it like three more times,” he grins and picks you up. You squeal and wrap your legs around your waist, giggling as he carries you up to his room.

;;;

“This is her place,” you tell Steve as he drives, pointing to Becca’s place. He pulls closer to the curb and shifts into park.

“I had fun,” he smiles at you, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Me too,” you gush, “My legs are still like jello.”

He blushes but leans close to kiss you, pressing his palm against your cheek as he deepens it, licking into your mouth. You melt into it, moaning softly as you feel tingles rise up your thighs and heat surges to your core. You pout when he pulls away.

“I’ll see you later,” he whispers past a smile.

You nod, smiling shyly before you open the door and wave as he drives away. You make your way up the steps and knock on Becca’s door. It takes a while before her mom answers and she smiles around her cigarette, letting you inside and you walk to Becca’s room. You knock before opening the door and Becca’s doing her makeup. She gives you a look up and down before smiling smugly.

“You spent the night here last night?” she asks with a laugh.

“I certainly did,” you giggle and open her closet, looking through her clothes for something to wear.

Becca turns to you, “You look absolutely fucked, like you haven’t had a blink of sleep. Who is he?”

“It’s a secret,” you smile, settling on a pair of jeans and a white blouse. “And I slept like maybe four hours.”

“No way! Who?” she gushes, throwing her mascara down with her eyes wide and mouth open.

You want to tell her so bad. And Becca’s a close friend, but you know she can’t keep her mouth shut. But you really want to tell someone. Carol wouldn’t tell but she’d be mad. Billy already knows but something feels incredibly wrong about telling him the juicy details of your sex life.

“He’s in college, I can’t tell anyone,” you lie as you get dressed.

“Ugh, you lucky bitch!” she squeals and hands you her mirror and makeup bag. “Give me the juicy details, spare his name.”

“I went over there at like four yesterday and he just dropped me off. We had sex seven times. Seven!” you gush, using her concealer to cover up the bags under your eyes.

“I hate you! Is he big?” she asks, leaning against her chair.

You blush, picturing Steve’s cock and immediately feeling aroused all over again, “It’s long. If I had to guess like I don’t know… close to nine inches.”

“How are you not split in half?!” Becca squeals.

“Trust me, I am,” you exhale sharply.

;;;

Billy’s offering you a cigarette as you and Becca walk up to the group. You take it, letting him light it and greedily inhaling the smoke. You need it after the night and morning you’ve had.

The blonde leans close to your ear and whispers, “So how was King Steve last night?”

You glare at him before turning to make sure no one is paying attention to the two of you. You whisper back, “I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

Billy chuckles, “Look at you. Either you were with Harrington or you’re lezzing out with Becca, and by the looks of it, she’s good.”

You flush, your fingertips shaking as you bring the cigarette back to your lips. The lowness of his voice and the implications make you feel warm all over. You’re fucking turned on by it. By Billy knowing. You wish you had the guts to tell him Steve made you cum seven times and by the morning you forgot your own name with how fucked out you were. Wish you could tell him about riding Steve’s face and how you’d almost fallen off the bed with how Steve had positioned you and fucked you relentlessly. Maybe you don’t need to, perhaps he can see it.

He grins wolfishly at you, “Guess that’s how he got the name King Steve.”

You choke on the smoke in your throat and everyone turns to look at you. Billy slaps your back like it’s gonna help, like you actually choked on the smoke and not his words.

Tossing the cigarette you ask, “So what time are we meeting up tonight?”

“Eh, around eight or so,” Tommy says, eyes slanted like he sees something he doesn’t like. Billy quickly shoves his hands in his pockets and inches away from you. That’s suspicious, that makes you feel weird all over. Immediately, you're sure Tommy’s said something to him and it makes your blood boil. It could all be wishful thinking, though, you remind yourself. Maybe Tommy didn’t say anything and Billy assumes he’d be upset. You don’t have much time to think about it when Steve walks by and your group of friends, his old friends, start berating him.

Billy calls to him, “Long night, Harrington?”

Steve stops in his tracks, turning to see you and Billy leaning up against the Camaro and he gives you this look like he’s been betrayed. He exhales, looks like he’s about to say something but stops himself.

“Crying over the princess all night?” Tommy chides, grinning from ear to ear.

Steve steps closer to him, chest puffed out, “You’d fucking die if you knew what I was up to last night.”

You hold your breath, beside you, Billy cackles and elbows your side. You widen your eyes and step further away from him.

“Oh yeah?” Tommy asks, “Try me.”

Steve meets your worried eyes with his own, chews on his bottom lip when he looks back at Tommy. He shakes his head, “You're not worth it.”

He walks away, not turning back to look at any of you. The group stands stunned, but Billy looks at you with this sly smirk and Becca looks at you with persistent eyes and her mouth hanging open.

“The hell did he mean?” Carol asks, her face contorted in confusion.

You stand there, a mess of nerves like everyone knows before Billy speaks up and you don’t expect for him to be the one to save you. “I bet you hit the nail on the head, Tommy boy.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to save your own ass. “Bet he was crying over Nancy all night.”

When the herd of you start walking towards the school, Billy leans into your ear and says, “You’re welcome.”

You fucking hate him but also, you kind of love him for it.

#billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x hagan!reader #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove fanfiction #steve x reader #steve harrington smut

236 notes · View notes

renfieldrenrat · 4 months ago

Text

Intro Post 🎱💫

Welcome to my personal blog! ᯓ★

Name: Renfield (prefer this name over everything else)

Gender: Male (FTM) 🏳️‍⚧️

Pronouns: He/They

Sexuality: Uranic, Ace

Languages: English/Deutsch

Identities:

Corekin:

Renfield (Dracula 1931, Renfield 2023)

Theriotypes:

Californian Valley Coyote, Black Wolf (Gray Wolf), Red Fox

Kintypes:

Vampire (Vampyre), Timelord

Fictionkin:

Doctor Who (every regeneration), Renfield, Clint Barton, Mobius, Edward Munson, Eric (AQPDO), Stede Bonnet (OFMD), Jack Russel (Werewolf by Night)

Musickin:

Djo: Twenty Twenty & DECIDE/D-SIDE Album 🎱

Songtypes:

Steam Powered Giraffe: Honeybee, Wired Wrong, Fire Fire

Synpath:

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler), Josh Levison (Being Human), Brigitte Fitzgerald (Ginger Snaps), Doctor Strange, Marc Spector, Rocket (Gotg)

Kiths:

Corvids, Seagulls, Blue Footed Booby, Wolves

Fact C-link:

Joseph Quinn (To cope with dysphoria)

(Anti Factkins & Factives DNI)

Any kind of hate isn't welcome here, think before you comment :]

Music:

Djo 🎱, Lapfox 💉, Steam Powered Giraffe ⚙️, The Correspondents, Cosmo Sheldrake, Radio Head, Shayfer James, The Family Crest, Alex G, The Neighbourhood, Sewerslvt, Machine Girl, Flyleaf, Rammstein.

Interests/Hobbies:

Dracula, Doctor Who, Marvel, Hamilton, Dr. Re-Animator, Stranger Things, Resident Evil, OSU, OFMD, Good Omens, Dirk Gentley, Jekyll & Hyde, Splatoon, drawing, writing, reading.

Thanks for reading!

#intro post #introduction #alterhuman #nonhuman #fictionkin #alterhuman community #blog intro #otherkin #therian #otherhearted

10 notes · View notes

song-witch · 2 years ago

Text

Make You Feel

Pairing: Taylor Sloane (Ingrid Goes West) x Jess Thayer (Rough Night)

Word Count: 3,126

Warnings: Age Gaps (Jess is 34, Taylor is 25), Pre-Smut, Slight Choking, Spanking, Daddy Kink, Possessiveness, hints of Jealousy, Angst | 18+, Minors DNI

Summary: With a private charity event set to help Jess in the upcoming election, Taylor decides there's not enough fun at the party. It's no more than a publicity stunt, after all.

A/N: This was written for and inspired by @cthulhus-curse! This is our little rarepair and I love them dearly.

Jess sighed upon taking another sip from her martini. She had been listening to this man blabber on for upwards of an hour, yet he hadn’t said a single thing to spark her interest. Had this appearance not been so crucial to her reelection, she thinks she might’ve left hours ago. She probably wouldn’t have shown up in the first place if she were entirely honest.

It was something she hated about being in the public eye. She had to be so conscientious of what she said and did, and even then, it would still be picked apart by people who hated her. Years of self-criticism led to her hard exterior, it was critical as a politician. That didn’t mean she liked it, though.

So she continued to attend these… publicity stunts, for lack of a better term. It was part of the job and for the pretty penny she was paid, she would continue to deal with arrogant, old white men. Even if she was fairly certain she would get wrinkles at the ripe age of 34.

Forcing her mind back to the conversation, Jess swallowed harshly, nodding her head. “I hate to cut this sort, gentlemen, but I do have others to attend to.” The short-haired blonde gave a very fake laugh to accompany her words, as if it would lessen the blow of her leaving. The woman smiled as she stood, allowing their words to filter in and out of her head once again, pushing her way out of the circle she was in.

Filtering through the people who lingered about was easy enough, stepping out into the small, thankfully empty, balcony. Jess set her glass down on the railing, inhaling the sweet crispness of the fall air, her eyes watching the still-setting sun. Despite the fact that it was nearing 8 pm, the sky was painted something akin to a Bob Ross painting, with deep oranges and pinks.

She was thankful for the cool breeze and her cropped hair, meaning all of the wind hit her, rather than her hair. Jess paid no attention to the clicking of heels, knowing there were only a handful of people brave enough to follow her outside. “Fancy seeing you here, miss senator.” And yet, of the ones she expected, the soft Californian Valley Girl of her girlfriend was the least expected.

“Seeing as how we were both invited, fancy is not the word I would use to describe you following me.” Without looking back, Jess brought her glass to her lips, sipping the vodka-based drink. The chill of the air was more present than the one of her lemon drop martini, though she was hardly complaining as she finished it off. “Stalker is more your style.”

“Well excuse me for wanting to make sure my senator girlfriend is okay.” The blonde scoffed, moving to stand next to the older woman. She shivered in her short black number, jacket long forgotten in some coat closet, Malibu Sunset clenched tightly in her hand. Rather than wrap her arms around the taller one as she would in the privacy of their home, she instead sidled up next to her, their arms just barely touching as she set her glass next to the other’s.

Jessica only scoffed, shaking her head. “Stalker.” She whispered with a coy smirk, dropping her elbows to lean against the railing, finally looking at the younger woman. Heels that she insisted on wearing, even though Jess had said otherwise multiple times. It had led to the younger nearly being bent over her knee, only being saved by a call from her Uber driver of all people. She would be the first to say they accentuated her legs, though.

Sweeping up her legs that seemed to go on for much longer than miles, she resisted the urge to reach out and tug her dress down, the material barely reaching midthigh. The material wasn’t an issue. She rather liked seeing the girl in short, silk dresses. The issue was not only how short it was, but how she seemed to parade around, knowing her tits and ass were out. Jess had found it funny at first, given the fact that they were attending a “high-end charity, cocktail event,” whatever that was supposed to mean. As the night progressed, though, the cockiness of the younger woman had only fueled the rage she spent hours mustering away.

“You love it.” Taylor Sloane’s teasing pulled her out of her self-induced reverie, a shit-eating smirk accompanying her features. Her hair waved behind her in the breeze, the sun giving the slight tan she had developed over the summer a soft glow accentuated by her makeup. The angle she was leaning against the railing at made it more than easy to look down her dress, hardly anything covered.

“I don’t love being stalked.” Both had had their fair share of creepy paparazzi on more than one occasion. It wasn’t something they talked about often, though the thought hung heavy in the air. Reaching for her glass, Jess took a long look at the woman, clearing her throat. “And put your tits away.”

Taylor smiled cheekily, seemingly leaning forward even more. It was as if she were trying to get on Jess’ already high-strung nerves, though two could play at that game. “I thought you liked them, Daddy.” She emphasized the final word, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Shut. Up.” Jess held the glass tighter in her grip, turning away from the woman. She left without another word, leaving the younger behind to fix herself. It would still be hours before they would be home, though they were both certain they would see each other again. The moods the two would be in, however, were a lot less certain.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Jess watched as the younger posed against the wall, some man taking photos of her. She knew Taylor was doing it on purpose; the fact that they had made eye contact multiple times was more than enough of an indicator. Yet still, it pissed the senator off beyond comparison, barely thinking it over before she was marching up to the young woman. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking pictures. What does it look like I’m doing?” Taylor only rolled her eyes, continuing to pose. She bent forward, much like she had earlier, barely any fabric hiding her tits. A smirk was thrown Jess’ way, a kiss at the man.

“That’s enough. I can take it from here.” Jess reached for the phone, shooing the man away in a move that was less than polite. She pocketed the girl’s phone, stopping the impromptu photo session within seconds. “Let me ask again, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Like I said, taking pictures.” Taylor scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Sure, she had asked a rando to take her pictures in an attempt to get the woman to her, though she wasn’t impressed it had backfired so quickly. She rolled her eyes, blowing air from her pursed lips.

“Taking pictures like a slut?” Jess scoffed, fixing the woman with a glare. Taylor had a tendency to brat out, especially when she wanted attention, though this was unusual, even for her. “We’re at a charity event and you’re slutting yourself out for a random man?”

“Oh please, I wasn’t slutting myself out. You’re just jealous.” Taylor rolled her eyes, reaching up to play with a strand of her hair. She knew she was in trouble, even before they had left the house. Why not play it up a bit? The only thing that could happen would be another punishment, and she was more than willing to pay that price.

“Jealous of what?” Jessica pressed, stepping closer to the woman. Their chests were nearly touching, the world around them fading to soft blurs. In this moment it was only them and the tension between them. She would’ve found it hot if they were at home, though she was far more fed up than amused.

“Jealous of the fact that I’m getting more attention than you.” The word ‘bitch’ mumbled under her breath, squinting her eyes at the woman. She knew those words would do it, by the way the older woman’s body tensed. She took a step closer, their noses now practically touching.

“Quit being a fucking brat.” Jess spit out as she grabbed the dirty blonde’s wrist, stopping her from walking away. As the number of warnings she got went up, the patience the senator had got lower. She was lucky they were at a very public, very important event, or she’d have been bent over hours ago.

“Then quit being a fucking bitch.” Taylor snarled right back, with possibly more venom than needed. She didn’t care, though. There was no reason for Jess to be as pushy as she was. Why couldn’t she take photos to post later if she wanted to?

“Excuse me?” The older grasped her wrist harder as she tried to walk away again, this time not letting her grip loosen. She was shocked to hear those words, especially after the talk they had earlier. Jess glanced around them, assuring they weren’t being watched, before pulling the girl closer. “Would you like to say that again? And watch your fucking attitude.”

“Then you,” Taylor met the woman with the same intensity, the pointer on her free hand coming up to poke at the woman’s chest, “stop being a fucking bitch.” She crossed her arms over her chest, meeting the same intensity that the other woman held. She was fed up. All of her attempts to gain her attention had gone to waste, shrugged off as if she were nothing.

“Let’s go.” Jess would be damned if anyone saw them, too focused on taking care of the girl to even care. She dragged her to the bathroom, practically throwing her inside the small room. “Fucing brat.” The short-haired woman snarled, turning to face the door. She inhaled deeply before turning around, ignoring the ‘what the fuck’ thrown at her.

Jessica locked the door behind her, a sense of cockiness filling her as she did. Taylor would face the consequences of her actions, publicity be damned. “You have about two seconds to apologize before I give you something to whine about.” Her hand almost immediately threaded through the younger’s hair, settling at the base of her skull and pulling upwards.

“Apologize for what? I wasn’t the one being a bitch.” Taylor scoffed, yanking her head back in an attempt to have her hair dropped. It didn’t work and only encouraged the older to pull harder, which in turn made the younger struggle just slightly against her grasp.

“I said: apologize, whore.” Jess grasped her hair harder, a gasp pulled from the younger woman’s throat. She knew how easy it was to rile up the blonde and vice versa. If she wanted to be a bitch, two could play that game.

“Fucking bitch.” Taylor spit at the woman’s heeled feet, actually spit, a flame in her eye that wouldn’t go away. She practically snarled, rolling her eyes and tossing her hair back, effectively pulling the older woman’s hand out of her hair.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” The words just barely resonated with the blonde before her head jerked to the side, falling to her knees, pain blooming throughout her cheek. The same hand that had slapped her, Taylor knew due to the warmth and slight buzzing that seemed to connect them, pulled her face back over and up, not giving her time to even react to the hit. Fire blazed behind her eyes as they stared up at Jess, her chest heaving.

“Cunt.” The speed at which two fingers were forcefully shoved down the younger’s throat was enough to make her choke, the acrylics of the older woman’s nails easily hitting the back of her throat. Despite the fact that Taylor was the best little cocksucker Jess had found, and she had had her fair share of free trials, she loved how easily it was to make her gag. The sound she made was enough by itself to turn her on, though the feeling was exquisite too.

“You keep running that goddamn mouth thinking I’m not going to do anything, huh?” Jess raised both of her eyebrows as her face tilted down just slightly, fixing the younger with a questioning look. Her hand followed where the blonde whipped her head back and forth in an attempt to dislodge her fingers. Even as Taylor’s hands came up to grasp her wrist and push it away, she continued to press forward.

“What? Too dumb to say anything back?” The taller woman faked sympathy, pouting condescendingly. She pushed her fingers forward before pulling them out, a sense of pride filling her as she watched the girl bend forward, hair falling in front of her face as she coughed. With a coo, Jess squatted, reaching through a curtain of blonde hair to tilt her chin up, meeting a pair of rage, and lust, filled eyes.

Taylor glared at the older though her vision swam with a mix of tears and arousal, grinding her teeth together. “Fuck. You.” The influencer spat through her teeth, her chest heaving. She knew she was going to be punished, if Jess’ earlier threats weren’t obvious enough, the unmistakable anger on her face was more than enough to send any man to their knees.

Jess’ nose twitched, her throat tightening as her hand traveled down the blonde’s neck, easily closing against it. “You just don’t fucking learn, do you?” She stood, not letting go of the younger as she did so, instead pulling her up and allowing her to dangle for a moment before dragging her towards the sink. The woman was thrown over the porcelain, her head bouncing off said counter with a resounding thud.

Taylor whimpered at the pain spiraling through her head, attempting to stand and reach for her head, only to be stopped by the politician. Jess easily grabbed the younger’s wrists, holding them behind her back, her free hand pressing down between her shoulder blades. “Don’t even fucking think about it, slut.”

“Ow.” The dirty blonde half whimpered, half moaned against the sink, squirming in her place. She was more than aware of the senator’s hands pushing the skirt of her dress up, a spank accompanying the motion. “What the fuck!” She yelped, though more from shock than pain.

“You wanna act like a fucking slut, you get punished like a fucking slut.” Was all Jess said as her free hand tugged the girl’s lacy thong down, bending over to pick it up and study it for a second. “Fucking pathetic. Getting off on your punishment. Whore.” The cropped-haired woman shoved them in the pocket of her pants, before another slap against the younger’s behind rang out through the room.

“Stop!” Taylor pushed her hips forward, trying to escape the slaps against her ass. It was futile, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Her hands were held behind her and there was no way she could squirm away, not with how high her heels were. It would most likely lead to her toppling over and she didn’t want to hit her head for a second time that night.

“You don’t get a say in this, bitch. So I suggest you start counting before I start over.” Jess threatened, her hand coming down yet again. She waited for Taylor to yelp out the word one, mere seconds before her hand came down again. She never hit the same spot twice, alternating both cheek and power with each hit. It had the younger crying by the twelfth hit, a mess of tears and whimpers.

Jess’ hand came down hard on the blonde’s ass, the sharp resounding slap of skin on skin reverberating through the small bathroom. She waited, curling her fingers until her nails dug into the soft flesh they rested on. “If you sto-” The woman was cut off by a wail from the younger, her form shaking with poorly hidden sobs.

“N-nineteen!” Taylor nearly screamed, rocking between her feet under the other’s harsh gaze. Her entire body shook with how hard she was sobbing, a mixture of tears and snot running down her face. She hardly even cared about how smudged she knew her makeup would be, able to see globs of black streaked across her cheeks, another product of her punishment, no doubt.

“Good.” Was all Jess said before her hand came down one last time, landing squarely on the girl’s already sensitive sit spot. She couldn’t care less about how loud they were being, far more focused on beating the brat out of the girl bent over in front of her. She watched with satisfaction as the girl yelped, her body quivering with the way she sunk against the sink. “Number.”

Taylor grasped at the faucet, her knuckles white with how strong she was holding it as tears continued to fall down her cheeks. “T-” She was cut off by a sob, pressing her face against her arm. It took her another sob before she spit the word out. “Twenty.”

“Good girl, Taylor.” Jess gently pulled the girl off of the sink, gathering her in her arms before sitting on the floor. Taylor clung to her almost instantly, her face slotting against her neck, fists grasping at her shirt. “It’s all done, baby. You’re okay.” The older woman murmured against her ear, holding her tight against her body.

“Good girl, Tay. You’re my good girl.” Jess hushed the girl, running her fingers through the loose curls cascading down her back. The younger continued to sob, her entire body flinching with how violent they were. Jess rocked back and forth just slightly, attempting to soothe her in any way possible. “My good girl, taking her punishment so well. Such a good girl.”

The short-haired woman swayed until the younger’s sobs subsided, though she didn’t let her go right away. “Look at me, Tay.” Jess prompted softly, using the hand still carding through long hair to gently tilt her head back. She waited until the dirty blonde did so, smiling softly at the girl. “You’re such a good girl, Taylor, even if you were acting up today. Now, you’re gonna get your Uber and I’ll meet you at home, okay baby girl?”

"Okay.” Taylor hiccuped softly, pushing her chin back into the woman’s neck. Neither of them cared about how much time passed, sitting on the floor of the bathroom, merely basking in each other. Jess ultimately had to force the younger up, helping her clean her makeup before sending her off, a kiss against her lips as a silent promise that she wouldn’t be long.

#Taylor Sloaned x Jess Thayer #taylor sloane #jess thayer #ingrid goes west #rough night

104 notes · View notes

dustcollectingbones · 8 days ago

Text

Intro post time!

General stuff:

Hi I’m Dust Collecting Bones a.k.a. Thomas! I’m like a court jester except I’m also attracted a little too much by bones.

You will often see me reblogging cool stuff, ranting about strange things, or getting much too invested in random posts. I don’t like to participate in many controversies or extreme beliefs and even if I did I will likely not post about it.

Fun facts:

I am a Bisexual/Pan-questioning, Grey-Ace male with he/him/they/them pronouns

I speak English and Mongolian, am learning Japanese and Korean, and know a small amount of Russian and Spanish

I play the piano (quite badly mind you)

Despite spending the majority of my life in none of these countries, I speak with a mix of Californian, British, and Irish accents

My dream pet animal is a monitor lizard who I’d let roam around the house like one might with a dog

I have audhd, and probably other undiagnosed stuff

Warnings/non-fun facts:

I am extremely queer and proud about it

I (though you likely won’t see much posting about it) sh and have an ed

I have an ed, sh, and several anxiety issues so please tag gore/sh/ed/su1c1d3 related content and use tone indicators!!!

I don’t have OSDD, but function in a similar manner (if you really must know dm and I can explain)

I am very defensive of my moots and will not tolerate any hate towards them

Dni:

Nsfw and porn accounts (though I can forgive posting about it I won’t interact with accounts solely centred around it)

Transphobes, homophobes, TERFs, racists, queerphobes, and any other uncool people

Adults in dms

Interests:

I dibble and dabble I’m several fields of study, such as physics, both quantum and applied, engineering (though one could argue that’s just really applied physics), chemistry, medicine, psychology, biology, and many more.

I love learning about new strange things so feel free to send me just cool stuff you find out about. I also have an extensive collection of useless or obscure information you’ll likely never need.

Music taste:

I love almost any genre, but my favourite musicians are as follows in no particular order:

Will Wood, IDKHBTFM, Waitress, Liability Luke, Changeline, Machinery of the Human Heart, Issbrokie/Shteppie, Lightnin’ Luke, Kendrick Lamar, Femtanyl, That Handsome Devil, Shayfer James, Isiah Rashad, Dib Dooley, Teddy Hyde, Bear Ghost, and Aaron May.

There are much more mind you these are just my most prominent listens (pls feel free to dm me for music recommendations).

Hobbies:

Music writing

Piano & singing

Reading

Cooking

Brazilian Jiu Jitsu

Writing

Drawing

Fandoms:

I consume podcast dramas at a voracious pace but if I could name my favourites it would be TMA/TMagP, The Silt Verses, Hymns for the Road, Midnight Burger, Malevolent, and Ch&T

Other fandoms include: Rick Riordan books, Good Omens, Doctor Who, Arcane, Pokemon, Devil May Cry, Good Omens, etc

Why Dust Collecting Bones?:

It's both (at the risk of sounding self-absorbed) clever wordplay and a vague description of my hobbies. It can mean bones that collect dust (i.e. old bones), or dust (as in myself) that collects bones (my Vulture-esque habits), and bones (as in myself) that collects old things (also my strange habits.)

It's mainly because I have a fascination with all things old, dead, or in various stages of decay. From collecting antiques, to preserving specimens, if it's old, I like it!

I am collecting user boxes and will add them soon enough

#intro post finally!!!#it’s very barebones for now but rest assured I will add to it as time goes on #tw death mention

4 notes · View notes

studdyybudddyyy · 6 months ago

Text

🫧 introduction 🫧

Hi!

Get to know me a little below <3

Name: Elif (random screenname I picked, similar enough to my actual name)

Pronouns: She/Elle

Age: Adult under 21

Languages: English (Standard, AAVE), French (Standard/Parisian)

Ethnicity/Religion/Etc: Black American (Northern Californian), Jewish (Ashki, Belarussian), Autistic, Bi

^I don't post about any of that here, but representation is important

Current Interests (I mostly post what's listed here):

Full-Stack Development, Linux, Python, C++, Cybersecurity, French & Russian (language study), Russian literature, Reading (generally), Poetry, Penmanship, Writing (Poetry), Fashion, Music (classical, instrumental, violin), and Shopping

Inactive Interests:

AC (New Horizons), The Sims 4, Hollow Knight, World of Warcraft, English literature, Cooking, Knitting, Sewing, and Violin (playing)

Tech/Apps/Sites I use & study with:

MacBook Air (Linux Mint 21.3 Cinnamon) and an iPad (iPadOS 16.2 + Apple Pen) .

GoodNotes, LibreOffice, Libby, Pinterest, and GoodReads.

Codecademy, FreeCodeCamp, LearnPython, Cybrary, LeetCode, Github, and KeyHero.

For my non-tech studies I mostly just read books.

DNI / Preferred boundaries

Not Welcome Here:

TERFs, SWERFs, RadFems, EDblr (Any/All), Discourse blogs, Anti-Voting, Anti-Union, AI fanatics/Cryptocurrency users, Cops, Zionists, Antisemites, Incels/Femcels, Eugenicists of any kind.

DO NOT ASSUME I'M A FAN OF [Shitty People] NOT LISTED

Welcome here:

Pretty much everyone else

Boundaries for Interaction:

You're welcome to interact however you'd like!

Everything posted here is open for commentary/discussion and you're also welcome to speak with me directly through asks/dm about whatever as long as it's related to this blog and/or something posted on it. This is an entirely SFW space and minors are welcome to interact, however, please remember that we & everyone else here are strangers and do not share personal information with me or others interacting on my page.

If you're an NSFW blog please switch to a SFW account/blog to interact at all. If you interact using your NSFW account/blog I will assume you're doing so intentionally or a bot and you'll be blocked.

Accessibility:

🫧 I do not post any flashing videos or images.

🫧 I do not post any NSFW content.

🫧 I do not post vent posts, post/reblog about other's personal traumas, or post/reblog about The News (unless said news directly relates to one of the things in my current interests list).

🫧 I do not repost any kind of chainmail, positive or negative.

🫧 I do not share or make any content related to generally triggering subjects, if you have specific and/or uncommon trigger(s) but still want to follow/interact with my blog please let me know and I'll tell you whether or not my blog is a safe space for you.

🫧 I do not pathologize/ridicule/joke about OCD, NPD, BPD, ASPD, Bipolar 1/2, Psychosis (with any root cause), or any other mental health conditions; If I've posted/reblogged something that does so please alert me.

🫐 I do use tone tags (If I miss one please let me know) when discussing thoughts/feelings/comments.

🫐 If I for some reason post/reblog something that is commonly triggering or discusses something you as a follower/mutual have let me know triggers you it will be tagged to the best of my ability.

🫐 I do add alt-text to all of the photos I post.

🫐 I do my best to avoid posting/reblogging screenreader unfriendly posts but If something I posted messed with your screenreader anyway please tell me so I can do my best to remedy it.

🫐 I do respect & honor everyones pronouns, gender identity, and sexual/romantic orientation regardless of whether I personally understand it.

🫐 I do respond to all asks/messages but I'm busy so it may take time.

I am trying my best <3

If you have any accessibility requests for this blog or even this post specifically, please let me know and I will genuinely consider updating to include it if I can.

#studyblr #introductory post #study motivation #study blog #study notes #full stack developer #linux #linux mint #python #c++#cybersecurity #french language #russian language #russian literature #poetry #penmanship #writing

5 notes · View notes

exahustedarkansasrat · 2 months ago

Text

Blog introduction

— 🍀

I’m Bee, from Arkansas; as you can tell by my blog name.

I speak English, and Mandarin! Also some Polish.

I’m a fan of older style living, not a lot of the morals, but rather living off the land, I enjoy history from all over but especially Arkansan, Cherokee, and Slavic history. I also enjoy folklore.

I like to fucking yap!!! yip yap!! yapping!!

I like yaoi, and yuri, specifically danmei, and baihe.

Certified Bentonville hater. 🙍‍♀️

I have nine cats, and four dogs, my mortal enemy is my neighbors goats.

I’m a lesbian 💃.

— 🍀

DNI; Homophobes, racists, and finally Californians/j

I’ll add more later on I dunno

— 🍀

#promoblr #vintage #terfs dni #i will turn your elbows #inside out #cooking #recipes #arkansas

2 notes · View notes

im-a-dream-wizard · 4 months ago

Text

✨Welcome to my Blog✨

You can call me Keej, this is my side blog for spirituality-focused stuff! I began my witchcraft and oneironaut journey around 11 years old, and fell out of the practice of witchcraft around 14. In the last few years, I’ve returned to a renewed practice and am looking forward to exploring magick again!

My path is built around traditional and folk magick, mainly the folk traditions of Bavaria and the Alps, as well as some Brujeria. I also incorporate elements of the local Californian landscape into my path. I adore hearth/cottage witchery, but I do spend a lot of time in the wilderness hiking and backpacking. My other focuses are folklore, animism, dreamwork, plant/herb magick, and kitchen witchery. I also have a guilty pleasure for glamour magick.

I’m personally very skeptical of divination, so I will mostly use “divination” as a means of introspection.

I observe Frau Holle/Holda and Perchta, so if you’re interested in her/them (however you look at it) then you may like my blog!

I also encourage you to reach out if you notice that I accidentally reblog misinformation, pseudoscience, or posts from a bigoted individual. I also encourage you to let me know if I accidentally reblog AI art. I don’t bite, and would really appreciate this!

You can find my brief obligatory DNI here

#holda #frau holle #perchta #witchblr #hedge witch #cottage witch #hearth witch #witchcraft #alpine folklore #alpine paganism #alpine pagan

6 notes · View notes

grox · 1 year ago

Text

DNI californians who moved to texas

14 notes · View notes

greyghoulclub · 2 years ago

Text

Harringrove Flip it Reverse it prompt 1 - fluff becomes angst: stargazing

Billy antis DNI

For @harringrove-flip-reverse-it

edit: <a href = "Look up to the stars - greyghoulclub - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]"> ao3 link here! </a>

When Steve was little, his mom taught him about all the constellations in the night sky. The big dipper, Orion and his belt, Ursa major and minor. They would go out in the middle of the night to sit on the lawn and use a telescope to see them. His mom would point in the general direction of a constellation and Steve would find it with the telescope.

“Mom! Look!” little Steve beckoned her over to the telescope, the biggest grin on his face. His mom would chuckle, push her long brown hair over her shoulder, and bend down to look through the telescope.

“You can see the big star in Orion’s belt right? Beetle- uh- juice?” Steve was talking a mile a minute because the star in question was brighter than usual. His mom chuckled from her position at the telescope, a beauty mark on the corner of her mouth moving into the crease of her cheek.

“Yes, I see Betelgeuse sweetheart, and there’s Rigel right next to it.” When Steve looked confused, she told him to look at the constellation again. “You see the blue star next to Betelgeuse? That’s Rigel.”

“It’s really blue,” Steve was fascinated by the little blue star, as they usually didn’t see it this bright. His mom only smiled and wrapped them in the blanket she’d brought outside.

When Steve got older and girls turned out not to be so yucky, Steve would take them out on stargazing dates to be romantic. The girls had loved it, something about how romantic it was to be kissed under the stars. And how they thought that King Steve couldn’t be as romantic as he was. Steve would chuckle and say something along the lines of ‘well, I like to make it special for a pretty girl’. Then Nancy came along and it didn’t work with her. For once in his life, King Steve had to work for something.

“Do you take all the girls on these stargazing dates?” she had ribbed at him, not in a bad way, but she was right. Nancy wasn’t going to be as easily wooed, but Steve liked a challenge. So he tried to do things that aligned with her interests, like library dates, the librarian raised an eyebrow at seeing him there. Nancy had liked going to the Hawk for a midnight showing of a new mystery movie, and trying to figure out what was going on before the characters did.

Then the upside-down stuff started happening, and Steve didn’t believe it at first, yeah right his pool had a portal to a different version of Hawkins right in the middle of it, and there were monsters that took creepy Byers’s little brother. Steve still didn’t believe it until he had seen the monster with too many teeth had to beat its face, if you could even call it a face, in with a baseball bat. Steve still saw the thing in his nightmares.

What he didn’t count on was Billy Hargrove. The Californian transplant who had crashed into his life with Motley Crue blaring and a bad attitude. He seemed to be King Steve cranked up to eleven. Billy Hargrove, who had stolen two titles right from under his nose. Billy Hargrove, who had beaten the shit out of him at the Byers' house in November and smashed a plate over his head. But also Billy Hargrive who had come to his house in the middle of January with a split lip and bruised ribs. Billy Hargrove who had silently cried into his shoulder when Steve realised it was his dad who was hitting him and that night at the Byers’ finally made sense.

They had kept their relationship a secret, out of necessity, only ever being intimate when no one else was around. Steve treasured those small moments when Billy had finally let his guard down. The real Billy was someone who had the oceans in his eyes, someone who had a soft spot for the stray cats around Hawkins, someone who was completely at ease in the water. Steve could’ve sworn that he was a mermaid in a past life.

Then Billy got possessed by the Mindflayer.

It was so goddamn painful knowing that he could’ve done so much more to help Billy but he was scared. Scared of the world knowing but Billy had also sworn them to secrecy. He knew that Billy was possessed and he did nothing. He worked the shitty ice cream parlour job at Starcourt acting like he didn’t know what was going on with Billy.

When Billy sacrificed himself to save everyone from the monster, after El had gotten through to him, Steve felt like his heart was ripping in two. There was no way Billy was surviving that. Billy died not knowing that Steve was there in that mall too, that Steve wanted to help him too. How scared must he have been? Not knowing what the hell was going on but his body was doing something that he never asked it to. Steve saw Max sobbing over Billy’s limp body and he was angry with everyone for a second, El had the psychic powers that could’ve saved them all and Billy wouldn’t have needed to sacrifice himself. Why didn’t the kids help Billy like they’d helped Will? Why didn’t he do anything?

Steve watched on as Billy’s body was taken away by guys in white suits for testing. He knew there wouldn’t be a body in Billy’s casket. Steve felt as if he got a limb ripped off. His life wasn’t going to be the same now that Billy wasn’t in it. He didn’t think it was ever going to be the same.

After Billy’s closed-casket funeral, Steve got out his old telescope and found Orion in the night sky. Standing proud and tall with his bow. Focusing on that blue star in the belt. Steve hoped that Billy could see the same from wherever he was now.

#harringrove #harringrove flip reverse it #harringrove flip it reverse it prompt 1 #billy antis dni #harringroveflipitreverseit2023 #flip it reverse it 2023 #billy hargrove

24 notes · View notes

darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years ago

Text

The Dark Passenger - Chapter Twenty One.

Your weekly fix of Camille and EZ is here, besties! As usual, thank you so much for following this and offering your feedback :) Enjoy!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty

Words - 3,262

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed

“So, going forward, after our plan has been executed, it would leave the path clear to instead bring in another income. Nothing says we can’t revert back to the heroin trade at some point in the future, but for now, and especially after having your grievances in my ear for the last few months over the growing rate of dead junkies, we need to cease. Stepping back and shutting down the pipeline as well as the LNG will facilitate that entirely. We have to be smart, save us all seeing the inside of a cell for the next twenty-five years to live. I ain’t about to let that happen.”

The figureheads of the various Mayan charters who sat around the Santo Padre table all nodded, everyone in agreement that EZ’s way forward was preferable to the risks they were taking. Much too much heat was on them, with the government sending far too many pairs of eyes in their direction, in order to uncover the supply of fentanyl cut heroin that was causing junkies to drop like flies. Four hundred and eighty-three inmates within the Californian prison systems alone had died in the previous seventy days. They couldn’t continue on that road, which was now ablaze before them; it was only a matter of time before it burned them to nothing, should they continue to ride along it.

The gavel fell, the men all filing out to retrieve cell phones and weapons, EZ, Bishop and Angel remaining behind at the table, the latter smiling proudly at his brother.

“This was always the way it was supposed to be.” He lifted his chin, nodding. “The way you’re running this club now, using your intelligence, we’re gonna be alright. It was scary for a minute back there, I can tell you. Me and Bish, you had us all kinds of worried when it was your tumour talking.”

“He’s right, mijo,” Bishop confirmed, sinking his drink. “The only thing keeping me awake at night these days is my wife, which trust me, I’m more than happy with.” His wink had them both laughing, the men standing from the table, a sense of relief tying them back together once more, those broken bonds now restitched. His plan, it was flawless. He just had to hope Charming would be on board, since they were the last cog in the machine to get running smoothly once more.

EZ revealed it all again to a second and third set of ears, in an arranged sit down between himself, his VP, Chibs Telford and Tig Trager four days later, just them present to hash out the initial details they would then take to a vote at their respective tables. The Sons had returned to Teller-Morrow, the clubhouse rebuilt, Wendy selling the garage to the Telford family prior to her departure from Charming, Abigail overseeing the running of it around her other, less legal career.

It was with a lot of hope for co-operation in mind that EZ and Bishop entered that very clubhouse, getting down to business immediately with a detailed explanation on a way forward.

“Ultimately, Chibs, it would mean that we of course stop pushing heroin through your turf, which is what you’ve been pushing back against us over, the route of our war. I just need a way to cut the cartel down. What my VP and I are thinking, is that you’re married to that way.”

Chibs leaned back in his chair, his thumb and forefinger slowly stroking his beard. “Aye, lads. If you want decimation, you’ve come to the right place.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled his cell out, tapping around before holding it to his ear. “Darlin’, I need you in church, if you can come up? Got a wee bit of an explosive proposition for ye.”

A few minutes later, and the iron lady of Charming walked through the doors, eyeing EZ and Bishop suspiciously. Looking to her husband, he glanced at the empty chair to Tig’s right, nodding with a smile. Whereas former presidents of the MC would never even entertain the idea of an old lady having a say in the actions of the club, Chibs Telford was different. He realised what a powerful asset his wife was.

“So, gentleman,” she began, lifting her chin as she eyed them. “I take it my services in eradication are required?”

EZ nodded, looking to Bishop, who extended the same. If there was one woman within their world, even one slightly on the fringes of such, who they respected without question, it was Abigail Telford. She made Gemma Teller look like a Care Bear.

“I do, Abi. What I need is for a cartel to disappear, if you can make that happen for us?” EZ put to her, watching the corners of her mouth upturn. Blowing things up was, after all, notoriously her turn on.

She reached for the pack of cigarettes in front of her husband, taking one out and lighting up. “Aye, lads. It’ll cost you, but I can most certainly make that happen for you. I’ll need a couple of weeks to pull in a few fellas from across the pond to assist me, but just give me addresses and times, and believe me, your little problem south of the border will be eliminated within a blink.”

“Thank you,” EZ began, grateful to her.

Bishop sank his drink, nodding in her direction. “Never has the saying chip off the old block been more appropriate. I met your dad once. I’ve never been so fucking scared of anyone as I was of Michael. Back when my club were importing cocaine through the same port your weapons were arriving in, he met with us to discuss the heat of such, bartering for the Mayans to move our shipments away from the gun porting. Lady, and I mean with the utmost respect, you are all your father,” he spoke, honestly humbled that such a figurehead was willing to help them extract the club from the cancer that had cut into the heart of them.

Abi smiled, reaching for the bottle on the table, taking a few glugs. “I appreciate your compliments, but truly, I am not my father. Because if I were my da, I wouldn’t be so magnanimous in what I can offer you in return, to boost my business, keep your club in profit, and the Sons clear of the heroin trade flowing through their areas. As you know, the IRA doesn’t involve itself in drugs, it goes against our code, but we can always be open to furthering our weapon trade.

“Of course, my husband’s club doesn’t have the reach over the border, but you guys do. Take it to the other cartels, reach out and let them know that the Mayans now primarily are movers of arms for our cause, and I assure you, you’ll receive one hell of a discount, and only deal with me directly.”

EZ leaned back in his chair, side eyeing his VP with a grin. Abi’s thoughts exactly matched his own. He always enjoyed when a plan came together seamlessly, two sides realising how they could join forces to net a substantial profit. Hell, when he thought about it, he could likely move arms for more of a fair cut than pushing the tainted heroin that was causing way too many news headlines for his comfort.

Life? It was pretty good for EZ as he continued to discuss the finer details, standing to shake hands with Chibs, Tig and Abi before leaving. All he had to do now was survive surgery. Arriving back in Santo Padre hours later, the first place he called in at was the Luna Lounge, giving his girlfriend a very approving whistle as she hung upside down on the pole, just one leg keeping her on, the other extended back, her hand reached to grab it. Sure, she was in hot pink lace that definitely was not the kind of underwear she preferred, or which he liked to see her in, but she looked so elegant to him up there, with a group of rowdy women throwing a paper storm in her direction.

“God, what I wouldn’t give to offer her a seat right on my face,” one of the women announced as EZ stood next to her. He looked down at her with a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Take it from me, you’d never be happier.”

Her eyes immediately widened as she swigged back her beer. “Jesus! Sorry, man! I didn’t realise she was your girl!”

“S’okay,” he reassured her with, reaching to pat her shoulder. “She’s a cutie, I get it. Believe me, I know how lucky I am.”

“Hell yeah, you are! I mean, I ain’t into dudes, but I can see from her point of view that she’s the same, lucky with you on your arm. Y’all got any kids? I bet they’re beautiful little things if you have.”

Her friendlily delivered words suddenly made something in his chest pull tight. Kids with Camille; it was the future he dreamed of, one day, but would he survive his impending operation in order to actually see it? No matter how confident Doctor Shepherd was, it of course still played on his mind with such risky surgery, being under anaesthetic with his skull partially opened up for a procedure she anticipated lasting for twelve hours at the very minimum.

“Nah, no little ones just yet. I think I wanna enjoy it being just me and her for a while longer,” he revealed, the woman nodding knowingly.

“Oh yeah, give yourselves time. My wife and I had been together for ten years before we decided to bring kids into the mix. I carried the first, she the second, and they were twins, so we got our hands full!” she chuckled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go put a nice little wedge in your girlfriend’s bra.”

She patted his back, grinning before taking a fifty from her wallet and scurrying over to Camille, pushing the money in and receiving a kiss on the cheek, beaming while she was danced for. He hung back until she exited the stage, passing her a large diet Coke and kissing her forehead. “Just thought I’d call in and say hey on my way home. Charming went well.”

EZ had decided to do as his brother had and let the girl he was with know everything. It was easier that way, and Camille appreciated him for it.

“Oh, that’s a relief!” she began as they moved to a free table and sat down, Camille taking her wedge out from her thong and bra, stacking the bills neatly. “So, I get to finish earlier tonight since I worked the afternoon shift, meaning I’ll be at your place for about ten thirty. Want me to bring Chinese food with me?”

His stomach rumbled at the thought of chicken noodles. “Please. Can I have my usual and a Szechuan pork? I’m fucking starving!”

“And some plain beef strips for little one?” Oh, how Sally would be excited to be given that particular treat.

“I dunno who loves you more, me or the dog.” He headed off soon after, kissing her fleetingly, promising her many more as soon as she arrived. Once she’d finished, Camille was glad she checked her phone, EZ messaging to increase the other by quite a lot, telling her the guys had decided to stay and hang out, and that beer munchies were required, an extra one hundred dollars transferred to her account to cover the expense.

“Get it while it’s hot!” she announced after kicking the clubhouse door open, her arms full with the large box of takeout containers, being ran at by several very hungry men.

“Oh, I will!” Bella purred, wrapping her arms around her waist and kissing her cheek with a giggle. “How was work, peachy?”

“Tiring! I made a nice little wedge though, so I’ll be well stocked up to spend some serious cash come out little shopping excursion.” In fairness, it was more of a girl’s weekend than anything, her, Amelia, Nala and Tallulah (unfortunately Mai couldn’t swing it) all going up to LA to stay overnight and get some serious shopping done, Bella needing new clothes for her long-overdue honeymoon. Being signed with a record label just three months after she and Angel had eloped, and then so busy for the following two years, they’d put it on the back burner until then, heading off to Brazil for two weeks.

Their honeymoon clashed with the time EZ was set to head to Seattle for his operation, both of them wanting to push it back in light of such, with the former telling them in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want them to cancel. The three weeks between that night and the moment EZ sat down aboard a plane two days before his operation passed by in a blur, reaching for Camille’s hand as they took off. He was a nervous flyer, and she knew too, how much that was impacting him with his nerves over the surgery, gripping his hand as she leaned against his shoulder.

“I couldn’t do this without you,” he told her once they were in the air and clear of the nerve-jangling turbulence.

“True, since nobody else would allow you to cut off the circulation between their hand and fingers.”

“Shit.” He loosened his grip, Camille flexing her hand a couple of times. “Sorry, baby.”

“You will be,” she winked. “That’s my hand job hand.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, releasing her hand and resting it to her thigh instead. Throughout their flight, they separately read, listened to music, chatted, and quietly laughed at Bella’s Instagram stories, she and Angel visiting Christ the Redeemer (‘We’re going to see big Jesus!’ as Bella had comically put it) and Angel’s utter ire in the wake of someone thinking that Bella was his daughter (‘Yo, that’s my WIFE, dude!’) the many stories giving them a lot of much needed comic relief.

“Fucking hell,” EZ exclaimed quietly as they entered their hotel room not long after landing. “You didn’t tell me you were choosing something this nice.” Camille had put everything in order, telling him to leave all the travel and hotel arrangements to her, since he had enough to deal with, being silenced when he’d attempted to object.

“Well, I figured since we’re going to be up here for two weeks, then we might as well be comfortable, if not a little luxurious.” If the surgery went well, then Doctor Shepherd anticipated that he’d be all set for discharge around five days post-surgery, but wanted him to remain close by for check-ups for a few weeks before she gave him the all clear to fly home. “So, what do you want to do? Just relax, or head out?”

EZ had said he wanted to see a few of the local Seattle landmarks while visiting, the obvious of the Space Needle as well as a visit to the beautiful natural beauty site of Snoqualmie Falls, but with two days until he was due to arrive at Grey-Sloan, they had plenty of time. EZ wasn’t keen to waste any of it, though, it would seem.

“Let’s head out now, shall we?” Camille changed out of her comfy sweats into a pair of jeans and Timberland boots, figuring sensible footwear would be the best choice, grabbing her jacket before they left the room.

“Oh god, oh my...” The little squeak that preceded Camille’s turning to bury her face into EZ’s shoulder had him laughing, wrapping his arms around her. “It’s so high! I knew it would be, but...” She gasped a little, looking back out over Seattle, her little hands grasped onto his hoodie before she turned back to hide her face once more.

“Look out over the bay, though, baby. It looks incredible,” he suggested, pointing towards the water.

She emerged for all of five seconds. “Oh yeah, beautiful. And return to hibernation.”

He laughed hard, hugging her, taking pictures with his free hand. “You’re so fucking silly. You made no mention of being afraid of heights before now!”

“I didn’t think I was, but I’ve never been up a tall building. Well, actually that’s untrue. I went to the top of the Empire State Building when I was two, but I don’t remember it. Apparently, I hid in dad’s hair the entire time, so perhaps I should have seen this coming!”

For her sake, he kept the visit short after snapping a couple more pictures, taking a few cute ones of them up there too before they headed to their next attraction, taking a boat tour across the harbour. Camille was much better on water than she was a few hundred feet off the ground. Keeping with the aquatic theme, they moved onto Seattle aquarium afterwards, EZ warmed by the sight of Camille watching her favourite fish, the puffers, her face alight with delight.

She couldn’t help but notice, though, the fact that he seemed to be in a hurry to fit in as much as possible into their afternoon, only slowing in pace once they reached the restaurant that had been recommended highly to them by the friendly hotel staff, taking a seat outside in the beautiful, casual surroundings of Un Bein, waiting on their order.

“Baby, are you alright?” She noticed thar he wasn’t still, his leg bouncing, his hand twitching, motion still running through him even though sat in place.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

She knew by that point in their relationship when he was lying. She’d noticed all the little tells that would have given him away back when he was under the duress of his tumour now that he wasn’t, the way his eyes darted around for just a fraction of a moment before he concentrated on her. “EZ, that isn’t true. Come on, tell me the truth. I can’t understand the kind of nerves you must be going through with what you have looming, but I’ve noticed how you’ve been rushing through today, so you need to share that with me.”

He inhaled deeply through his nose, letting the breath out slowly, reaching for her hands. “I’m trying to fit in as many memories as I can for you, just in case the unthinkable happens. In case I go into that OR and die on the table. I didn’t want to say it in as many words, I know you’ve likely considered it a possibility too, should a complication arise. All I want is to fill these two days full of things you can cherish, just in case.”

Her eyes become glassy in a second, her emotions rocked by his revelation. “Oh my god.”

“And now I’ve got you all upset, and I didn’t want that.” Getting up, he moved around to the empty chair beside her, pulling her into the comfort of his arms as soon as he was seated. “Come on, beautiful. It’s okay.”

She cried softly against him, her hand curling around his neck, stroking, emerging from his embrace to kiss him. “It is, and it will be okay, but hearing that you’re doing this for me is more touching than I can even begin to explain. I love you so much.”

She didn’t need to explain either. EZ felt it strongly in every single moment that passed with her. He just hoped he would have years ahead of him to experience many, many more.

#ez reyes #ez reyes fanfiction #ez reyes smut #ez reyes imagine #ez reyes x ofc #ez reyes fanfic #ez reyes fic #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc smut #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic

24 notes · View notes

sleepypuppyswitch · 9 months ago

Text

Intro post

Name: Jay

Pronouns: he/him

Age: 18

Trans man (Afab)

Bisexual

Californian

Kinks

Cnc rape kink, somno, intox play, piss/bladder control, puppy play, edging and denial, overstim, sadomasochism, rape kink, light exhibitionism, hypno kink, incest kink, blood kink, degradation, praise, dumbification, light exhibitionism, misogyny kink (sometimes)

Limits

Scat, detrans kink, misogyny kink

DNI

Minors, homophobes, transphobes, detrans kink,

2 notes · View notes

myladybelle · 5 months ago

Text

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍? | chapter seven

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: art donaldson x female!reader x patrick zweig 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’ve always been content being second place to your best friend tashi duncan, waiting for the day you can quit tennis. your world is upended when you meet art and patrick, and you’re forced to embrace a life in the sport you’ve been too afraid to claim for yourself. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.3k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): challengers content warnings, swearing, reader wears a short skirt, suggestive jokes, mentions of sex (minors DNI), use of y/n 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: no time change in this chapter just fyi xx 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

𝐓𝐀𝐔𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄, 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 – 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕. 𝟏:𝟏𝟗𝐏𝐌.

The day of your and Tashi’s matches against Pepperdine was less than three weeks before the winter quarter at Stanford ended. You had been frantically preparing for your upcoming finals but gave yourself the day off since Patrick was visiting. After lunch, you and Tashi indulged in some idle gossip as you made friendship bracelets to commemorate the Pepperdine match in your dorm. When she left to speak to her maths tutor, you went to pick up your boyfriend from tennis practice.

Another way you and Art made sure to spend time together was to pick each other up from practice and get a sweet treat or snack as a reward for working hard. What started as a spontaneous and fun activity quickly became a cherished tradition; now, you couldn’t imagine your time at Stanford without it.

As soon as he saw you open the door to the tennis centre, Art’s face lit up with a radiant smile. He dropped his racket and hurried over to greet you. His teammates groaned when he halted practice without a second thought, eliciting laughter and an apologetic smile from you. Art wrapped you in a warm embrace, your lips meeting in a sweet, lingering kiss. A swarm of butterflies danced in your stomach, leaving you breathless when you parted. You couldn’t help but smile back at your boyfriend, your heart fluttering with adoration.

You enjoyed how warm and loving Art always was. If he wasn’t holding your hand, he was hugging you, kissing your hand or cheek, or finding another way to touch you. It was as if it would never be enough for him; he wanted to be in contact with as much of your body as possible at all times.

“Hi, angel,” Art welcomed you affectionately. Your heart raced at his usual nickname for you, warming your cheeks. You felt a giddy flutter in your stomach, unable to contain your grin at the sight of Art in your favourite practice outfit. Something about the white compression shirt highlighting his biceps under his red t-shirt always made you particularly territorial over your gorgeous boyfriend. “I thought you weren’t coming for another twenty minutes.”

“Tashi had to meet with her tutor, so I thought I’d watch my sexy boyfriend beat all the other guys on the team for a little while.”

“Hey!” one of Art’s teammates protested, overhearing your comment.

“I’m sorry, Paul, you know I’m biassed,” you defended yourself, chuckling when Art smirked and kissed your cheek. When he retreated, he winked at you and returned to his place on the court.

Luckily for you and Tashi, who were scheduled to play your matches later in the afternoon, it was the perfect day for tennis. The Northern Californian sun burned hot without clouds to obscure it, and the otherwise mild temperature felt warmer because of it. The sky stretched endlessly, a brilliant expanse of clear blue that made the day feel infinite. The sun’s warmth kissed your skin, a gentle caress that brought a pleasant, languid ease.

Seated on the bench to observe the rest of practice, you chatted with one of Art’s teammates as your boyfriend finished his practice match. Most of the guys on the tennis team were nice, not as motivated or ambitious about going pro as Art, but still putting their best effort forward. For them, tennis was a way to get through college, just like it was for you. Sometimes, you studied with them and some friends from the women’s team, appreciating how seriously they took their studies.

Just as you were about to offer to look over your friend’s English paper, a familiar shout interrupted your train of thought, “Whoo-hoo! Let’s go!”

You glanced at the door and laughed when you recognised the figure entering. “Oh my god, Pat!” you almost shrieked.

Flying from your seat and breaking into a run, your excitement at seeing your friend bubbled over. You closed the distance between you as Patrick dropped his bags and energy drink on the ground. He grinned as you approached, scooping you up in a tight embrace and spinning you around once you were beside him, your laughter filling the air. As he set you down, you held onto him for another moment, savouring the joy of his long-awaited visit.

Murmurs of confusion rippled through the court as the men’s team watched you run up and hug someone they had never seen before. They exchanged bewildered glances. As you and Patrick laughed comfortably, the friend you sat with earlier looked at his teammates for help. “Who the fuck is this guy? Does he go here?”

Patrick’s hands were firmly on your waist, causing everyone to gape in shock. Art barely let them high-five you without grumbling in jealousy, and now he was chuckling at the sound of this other man greeting you. It was unprecedented.

“I don’t know,” someone replied. “I don’t… I don’t think so.”

“It’s so good to see you! How are you?” you asked Patrick.

“I’m great! Never mind that, let me take a good look at you, sweetheart,” Patrick requested, taking off his white sunglasses to observe you carefully.

He stepped back and lazily ran his eyes down your whole body. Fuck, he thought. You were even sexier than he remembered, which was wild considering he thought of you daily. Your black sleeveless mock neck top was just tight enough to highlight your figure, and the denim mini skirt explained why all of Art’s friends were trying not to look at you, lest they be caught gawking at your ass.

Patrick looked good, too. He had gotten even more tan, broad-shouldered, and irresistible during his time on tour. As always, Patrick’s lips curled into a charming, mischievous smirk, the kind that never failed to send a flutter through you. The playful glint in his eyes hinted at something you couldn’t place, drawing you closer without realising. You shivered, playing it off with a smile.

“Well?” you joked, raising an eyebrow and putting your hands on your hips.

“Fuck, you got even more gorgeous while I was gone,” Patrick said shamelessly. “Donaldson’s a lucky man.” You laughed, hitting his shoulder.

Art rolled his eyes, an amused smirk lingering on his lips as he dribbled the ball to get ready to serve. “Stop flirting with my girlfriend, Patrick,” he shouted without looking at him.

The guys on the tennis team were visibly confused as to why Art was letting this guy flirt with his girlfriend without getting angry.

Looking at his best friend over your head, Patrick called, “Come on, Donaldson, big serve! Big serve!” Everyone on the court chuckled at Patrick’s cheeky tone. You turned to watch, and when Art finished bouncing the ball and tossed it in the air to serve, Patrick shouted, “That’s right, baby!” Surprised, Art caught the ball and turned around. “Show that motherfucker who’s boss.” The tennis team broke out into loud laughter. Smirking, Patrick put his head on your shoulder from behind you and looked at Art with innocent eyes. “Finish it out, Donaldson, come on.”

“Yeah, Donaldson,” you joined in on the teasing, putting your hand on Patrick’s cheek where he rested on your shoulder. “Finish.”

Your command, no matter how playfully intended, shot through Art and Patrick’s bodies like a rocket taking off, and their pants tightened imperceptibly.

Overjoyed to see his friend after so many months apart and loving the way the two of you riffed off each other, Art laughed and served an ace.

“All right, look at you,” Patrick complimented him, kissing your cheek and going to greet his best friend. “You’re almost serving as well as your girlfriend these days!”

Art pulled a tennis ball out of his pocket and hit it at Patrick with his racket. Patrick barely dodged it, making you chortle. “Nobody serves as well as my girlfriend,” Art corrected him proudly, smirking in your direction before backing away when Patrick approached him with open arms.

“Come on,” Patrick said, requesting a welcome hug. Art grinned, shaking his head and waving Patrick away as he turned around and walked in the opposite direction. “Come on,” Patrick repeated, trailing after Art and chasing him around the two closest tennis courts. Eventually, Art dropped his racket to jump over the net and avoid him, both boys cackling with abandon. “Art!”

Standing at the edge of the tennis court, you watched the pair of best friends chase each other with the carefree spirit of children, their laughter echoing in the warm afternoon air. They darted back and forth, their playful banter and spontaneous bursts of speed reminding you of how young the two of them were. A smile spread across your face as you took in the scene. The way they teased each other and then burst into fits of giggles filled your heart with sweet, nostalgic joy.

Patrick followed Art back to the court you were standing by and frantically yelled, “Out of the way, out of the way,” to the guys sitting on the bench. He leapt over the bench and finally caught Art, sending them toppling to the floor and sharing a hug that reminded you of when they won the Junior US Open doubles tournament.

When they were done roughhousing, Art packed up his tennis bag, and Patrick joined you to retrieve his. “So–” Patrick paused to finish the contents of his energy drink– “Does this mean I get to join you and Art for one of your famous post-practice snacks?” he teased.

“As a matter of fact, I think it does,” you confirmed, grinning. “And don’t mock the post-practice snack, it quite literally sustains me.”

A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes, and a subtle smile tugged at the corners of Patrick’s lips as he looked at you. “I’m not mocking,” he promised, slinging his tennis bag over his shoulder. “Although, it is a little soccer mom of you. Picking Art up and rewarding him with food like he’s a good boy.”

“Trust me, when Art’s being a good boy, food isn’t my reward of choice,” you retorted, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Patrick’s eyes widened in surprise, and a faint blush crept up his cheeks as his imagination ran wild. “Feel free to elaborate on what exactly you–”

“–Cute shoes,” you interrupted, deliberately changing the subject and pointing out that Patrick was wearing the same model of Nike sneakers as you. They were fashionable white streetwear shoes with the black Nike tick, the same ones the brand sent you for free during the Junior Australian Open. “Anyway, our dining hall has the best churros so it’s your lucky day.”

“What did Patrick do to deserve a churro?” Art complained when he joined you. Affectionately, he rested his chin on your shoulder from behind you, much like Patrick did earlier. Unlike Patrick, Art wrapped his arms around your waist and planted a kiss on your neck. “He hasn’t been serving any aces recently.”

“Well, that doesn’t make me feel very welcome.” Patrick pretended to pout. “I see we’re not rolling out the red carpet today.”

“We have to entertain him until Tashi’s done with her tutor,” you reminded Art. “Take pity on the boy.”

Offended, Patrick scoffed. “I’m also Art’s best friend,” he pointed out. You chuckled, letting Art take your hand and drag you out of the tennis centre; it took everything in him to resist pressing you against the door and kissing you with all his might to show Patrick who you belonged to. Patrick added, “And I haven’t seen him in almost six months!”

“Keep up, Zweig,” you shouted over your shoulder, urging Patrick to hurry along.

Once you were in the dining hall, Art went to get the churros while you and Patrick sat and caught up. The afternoon lull of the dining hall meant that lunch times were over, but the stall that served churros was open and had no line.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” you said excitedly, tapping Patrick’s denim-clad thigh twice for emphasis. You tried not to dwell on how firm his muscles felt under your fingertips, but Patrick’s lips quirking upwards suggested that he had noticed your reaction. “We’ve missed you. You should consider joining us at Stanford.”

Patrick leaned back against the table, a contented sigh escaping his lips. “I may have missed Art, but I didn’t miss him enough to go to college for him,” he replied, his gaze sweeping over your face like he was trying to memorise your features. “And I missed you, too. It’s just not the same by myself on tour.”

You nodded, your eyes softening. “I know. The emails are great, but it’s not the same as being able to look you in the eyes, to hear your voice.” As email pen pals, the two of you had gotten very close over the last five months, and it was nice to finally see Patrick in person.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his expression becoming thoughtful. “Tour has been... good, but it’s been hard too. I’m glad you and Art have made such a nice life for yourselves here. It’s great, I can see why you like it so much.”

“Yeah, it’s great here,” you echoed. “Art is doing great too, his grades improve every quarter and he’s playing better than ever. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this confident or happy while playing tennis, it’s amazing,” you narrated, smiling. “But I know he felt like something was missing with you gone.”

Patrick’s eyes flickered with emotion. “I know the feeling,” he replied. “But I’m glad he has you. I’m pretty sure you’re the reason for the good grades and great playing. If I had any money, I’d bet every cent on it.”

You chuckled modestly, rolling your eyes. “Art doesn’t need my help to pass his classes or be a great tennis player, he’s fully capable of doing those things by himself.”

Patrick tilted his head, considering. “You’re probably right. But I doubt he’d be this happy without you.” You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with pleasantly surprised delight at his unexpected compliment.

The overjoyed sound made Art turn around to see what you were doing. As you, his gorgeous girlfriend, chatted animatedly with his best friend, Art couldn’t shake the gnawing anxiety in his gut. Patrick had an effortless charm that had always attracted attention wherever they went. Each laugh and shared glance between you two felt like a twist of the knife, amplifying his insecurity. Art shifted uneasily, trying to mask his discomfort as he watched you interact. Despite trusting you both, the fear of losing you to someone who seemed much more appealing tormented him relentlessly.

Art spoke up, not wanting to spiral any longer. “So, how’s the tour?” You and Patrick looked over at him and grinned in unison. “No fun stuff?”

Amused, Patrick wondered, “Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Art turned around to take the churros, looking over his shoulder at the two of you. “Are you seeing anybody?”

“What do you mean? I’m taken,” Patrick reminded Art, incredulous at his insinuation.

“By my best friend,” you added happily.

Patrick nodded in agreement. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

Art walked over with your churros and paused in front of Patrick, staring. “You’re not here to visit me?” he deadpanned, sarcastic.

Patrick tilted his head, matching Art’s blank expression. “What?” he questioned. When Art moved to sit down, Patrick used his foot to drag Art’s chair closer.

Art handed Patrick his churro and glanced at the DUNCANATOR poster of Tashi on the opposite side of the dining hall. Patrick took a bite, gazing at his best friend. “You’re really committing to this thing?” Art asked.

Glancing at the same poster, Patrick clarified, “To Tashi?” Art nodded. “I mean, we’re taking it step by step, but, you know… I like her. I don’t know if she’s looking to make me an honest man but we’re both happy with our arrangement.”

You grinned at his comment, trying to hide it by biting your churro and stifling your laughter. To say Tashi was happy with their arrangement was an understatement. She said Patrick was the best sex she’d ever had and had described it in detail. The first time she returned to your shared hotel room after the US Open, your jaw dropped as she recounted her first time with Patrick. When Tashi had laughed and jokingly asked if you regretted rejecting Patrick earlier that day, you almost nodded.

Noticing you struggle to keep a straight face, Art raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?” he teased.

“Nothing,” you assured the boys. They exchanged a look before glancing back at you, unimpressed by your lack of elaboration. “It’s just that girls tend to discuss their… relationships in detail so I probably know more about your happy arrangement than you expect me to.”

Patrick’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “How much detail is that, exactly?”

“Let’s just say I could pick you out of a police lineup if all that remained was–” You glanced down at his lap for emphasis.

Patrick burst into surprised laughter, echoing through the mostly empty dining hall. To be fair, he had given Tashi permission to share whatever she wanted about him, but your blunt admission caught him off guard. Patrick leaned back too far in his chair, arms flailing as he fought to regain his balance. Instantly, you and Art reached out to stop your friend from falling off his chair.

It was so unexpected that Art couldn’t even be jealous that you knew what Patrick was like in bed. You and Art exchanged amused glances, barely containing your laughter as you watched Patrick teeter on the edge of his chair. Art smirked, shaking his head in disbelief at his antics. You chuckled softly, your eyes twinkling with amusement as Patrick’s laughter filled the room.

“Holy shit, that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard,” Patrick declared, wiping his eyes when he finally recovered. “Does that mean Tashi…”

You shook your head, winking at your boyfriend. “She knows a little, but Art and I like to keep our private lives exactly that, private.”

Overcome by a sudden wave of affection for you, Art gently cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours, pouring all his devotion into the kiss. You melted into his embrace. Both of you tasted like cinnamon sugar, and you hummed as you licked the sweet substance from your boyfriend’s lips.

Sandwiched between you and Art, Patrick had no choice but to stare. “Right…” he said, unconvinced by your proclamation about keeping things private after that display of affection. You pulled apart and chuckled. “Very private. To be honest, I think Tashi and I both know that what we have is nothing like what you guys have,” Patrick explained, motioning to you and Art with his churro.

“Well, I’m not sure how she’s thinking about all of this,” Art said vaguely, biting his churro. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Patrick chuckled softly. “You don’t want me to get hurt?” he repeated. Art nodded and hummed. Pausing, Patrick took a bite from his churro and mulled over his best friend’s words. “Did she say something to you?”

“She didn’t say anything to him,” you assured Patrick.

“I just got the impression she’s not thinking about this as a serious relationship,” Art explained.

Patrick nodded, swallowing his mouthful. “You got that impression?”

Art added, “From a conversation we had.”

You rolled your eyes, finishing the last of your churro. “Don’t listen to him, he’s been stirring the pot recently. Be a good boy, won’t you, Arthur?” Your warning was sugar-coated with a joke, but the message was clear. While you had understood and forgiven Art for the fight he picked with Tashi a couple weeks ago, you weren’t in the mood to hear him do it again with Patrick.

“Stirring the pot?” Patrick echoed curiously. “Huh!” After scanning Art’s ambivalent expression, he smirked, slipped his arm around Art’s shoulders, and pulled him close. “You fucking snake!” Looking into Patrick’s eyes, Art tried not to smile. “Honestly, I’m proud of you. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Reaching out and gently shaking Patrick’s head, Art insisted, “I’m not doing anything.”

“It’s fine, I get it. You want to be the only one with the bombshell girlfriend, I completely understand,” Patrick teased. “But still, it’s exciting to see you this way. It’s what’s been missing from your tennis.”

Art pushed Patrick away, his smile dropping. “What?”

“It’s nice to see you lit up about something. Even if that something isn’t your girlfriend.” Patrick grinned when Art’s jaw twitched, bothered by his accusation. “I thought your tennis was so good because you’ve had a good influence in your life–” he turned around and winked at you–“But maybe it’s because you think the two of us are still competing.”

“Boys, play nice,” you cautioned them, seeing how Art’s eyes darkened to that icy blue that appeared when he was getting testy. “I mean it. I have to run to the bathroom but if I come back to find you two battling like gladiators, I’m not playing peacemaker.” You got up and kissed Art’s cheek before heading to the bathroom.

Art and Patrick watched you walk away, waiting until you were out of sight before meeting each other’s eyes. “We should go for a smoke before I go reunite with Tashi,” Patrick suggested, ignoring the lingering tension between them.

“I don’t smoke anymore,” Art replied, glancing between Patrick’s eyes and watching his lips as he chewed.

Patrick grinned. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I quit. Y/N hates that shit.”

“I won’t tell on you,” Patrick quipped.

Art laughed, the sound coming out harsher than he intended. “You don’t get it. She didn’t make me quit. I quit because Y/N would be hurt if she knew I was doing something to harm myself. Besides, if I want to get serious about tennis then the least I can do is improve my stamina,” he mentioned.

“You really are getting serious about tennis,” Patrick observed affectionately.

“I’m serious about a lot of things,” Art replied. “My girlfriend, for instance.”

“Ah, yes. I could tell from all of Y/N’s emails. I’m really happy for you two.”

Art quirked his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Really,” Patrick promised, smiling deviously. “As long as I get to be best man at the wedding, that is.”

“I thought you’d be more upset about it considering you asked Y/N for her number and she rejected you,” Art said nonchalantly. Even though he wasn’t looking at Patrick, he knew Patrick would be rattled that Art knew you had rejected him. “I mean, at least that’s what Y/N told me.”

“She told you that?” Patrick’s voice was quieter than Art had ever heard it.

“She did,” Art lied. He didn’t want to admit that he had overheard them at the US Open. “She wanted me to know that she has no feelings for you whatsoever and that I was always her first choice,” he fibbed. “But it’s good that you’re happy for us. It clearly means that you don’t have any feelings for her either.”

“You think so?” Patrick said sarcastically.

“Plus, you’re dating her best friend–”

“–Tashi and I aren’t dating, it’s casual–”

“–Which we both think is great.”

Patrick watched his best friend’s reaction closely, a smug satisfaction curling his lips into a smirk. “You know this just makes it hotter for me, right? You sitting here, worried I’m still pining for your girlfriend.” Seeing the flicker of irritation in Art’s eyes, he knew he was successfully getting a rise out of him.

Art smirked, shaking his head. “I’m not worried about you at all, I know exactly how Y/N feels about you. And I would never do anything to get in the way of your happiness,” he promised, brushing sugar from Patrick’s cheek.

“I know,” Patrick assured him, finishing his churro. “It’s not your style. The thing is, your usual style isn’t going to work here. You can’t play percentage tennis–” he grabbed the churro out of Art’s hand and bit into it– “And wait for me to fuck up. Because right now, you have the advantage. But no matter how good you are at playing defensively, you know you’ve never beaten me before. Face it, Art. I’ve always been better at the long game.”

Patrick turned the churro over to his best friend, who took a bite and searched Patrick’s eyes; Patrick wasn’t challenging Art but reminding him of a fact. Art had never beaten Patrick in a game of tennis before, and he was usually forced into a defensive stance while Patrick took the offensive. But this wasn’t tennis, and Patrick was being hands-off with his feelings for you.

Art couldn’t quite figure out what Patrick was up to. A knot of nervousness tightened in his stomach despite having the upper hand. His eyes darted between his friend’s subtle movements, searching for clues. Despite having the advantage, Art felt like he was playing against Patrick’s unpredictable drop shots, unsure of what strategy to employ next.

“Okay,” you returned to the table with a smile, phone in hand. “Tashi’s done with her tutor and waiting for Pat back at her dorm. Should we get going?”

Patrick looked at you and mirrored your smile. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐀, 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 – 𝟐:𝟒𝟏𝐏𝐌.

Art’s face had been buried in your neck for the last five minutes, and you just knew he was leaving behind as many marks as he pleased. Unfazed by his sudden bout of possessiveness, you wondered, “Do you think going on a double date to celebrate our team’s victory is going to be weird after learning that Patrick and Tashi aren’t really dating?”

Sighing, Art pulled away and fell back onto your bed. With his head resting on your pillow, he gazed up at you with stunning blue eyes. You were perched on his lap, straddling his thighs and watching him admire you. Art was captivated by how the sunlight danced across your delicate features. Your eyes sparkled with an inner light that never failed to mesmerise him, even more so when you were barefaced like you were in this moment. The curve of your smile was so genuine and warm that it made his heart skip a beat every time he saw it. Art reached out to take your hands, placing them on his chest above his heart and grinning.

“Can we not talk about Patrick when I was just inside you?” he requested, pulling a face. “Some things should be sacred.”

“Like shower sex?” you suggested, referring to what you and Art had been up to before climbing into bed.

“Amongst other things, yes.”

You laughed, leaning down to kiss him tenderly. “Who knew dating you came with so many terms and conditions?” you teased, rolling off your boyfriend to lie beside him. “What’s up with the two of you anyway? There was a lot of tension flying around earlier.” Turning to face Art, you propped your head on his bicep and grinned. “Should I be jealous?”

“You get so curious when you’re post-coital,” Art commented, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

“Ooh, post-coital,” you mocked. “Stanford’s teaching you some big words, Donaldson.”

“Apparently it’s a pretty good school.”

“You don’t say!”

You nestled closer to your boyfriend, savouring the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arms wrapped around you securely, enveloping you in the peaceful intimacy you shared. The gentle rise and fall of his chest lulled you into a serene state of relaxation. With final exams and the championship finals approaching, you and Art didn’t get to spend as much time together as you wanted to. You watched Art’s breathing slow, and his eyelids fluttered shut, signalling his descent into sleep. His features relaxed, free from the day’s worries, and you couldn’t help but smile at the calm expression on his face. Gently, you brushed a few curls – still damp from your earlier shower – from his forehead, wanting Art to rest after working hard at practice.

The quiet beep of your phone barely made him stir.

TASHI: Got into a bad fight with Patrick. Worse than the big blowout with the line judge I had at the country club in 2004. Maybe my fault? He left. Where are you?

Sitting up in concern, you grabbed Art’s grey Stanford tennis t-shirt that you were using as pyjamas and slipped it over your head. “What’s wrong?” Art asked as you pulled on your denim skirt from earlier, not bothering to put together a better outfit.

“Tashi and Patrick got into a fight, she wants to see me,” you explained, grabbing your alarm clock and setting it for twenty minutes before the Pepperdine match. “Get some sleep, I set the alarm for you. I’ll see you at the game, okay?” Art hummed sleepily, smiling when you kissed his cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Art echoed.

Once you found your favourite slippers, you left your dorm and went to Tashi’s. “Are you okay?” you asked, entering without knocking. She always left the door unlocked for you when she knew you were coming over. “What did you guys fight about?”

In an oversized white t-shirt, Tashi was stretching on a yoga mat. “Tennis,” she said in a monotone voice that was very unlike her. “You. Art. Just… everything”

Your heart jumped in surprise and fear. You felt a cold rush of anxiety, your mind racing with worry about what might have happened. As your pulse quickened, you struggled to find the right words to respond. “What exactly happened?”

“We were, you know–” you nodded, shrugging a little– “And we got to talking about tennis and how he hasn’t won any challengers yet, and then somehow the conversation steered towards Art–”

You grimaced. “You were talking about my boyfriend while you were having sex?”

“We weren’t having sex, we were still making out,” Tashi defended. “And we weren’t talking about him, we were just saying that you and Art are really fucking good at tennis–”

“–I don’t know how I feel about being the subject of your foreplay dirty talk–”

“–Next thing I know, Patrick’s saying he thought he already won my number and I told him that we all know whose number they were really playing for, and that it would be embarrassing for me if he sucked, and he said I shouldn’t call myself the Duncanator – like I came up with that one – and that none of us know what he wants from me and it just blew up from there,” Tashi ranted, brows furrowed as she tried to trace their argument back to the root of the problem.

Your eyes widened, and your mouth fell open, frozen in a silent gasp. Blinking rapidly, you tried to process the unexpected information, your face a picture of astonished disbelief. “Okay?” you dragged the word out, unsure what to say. “Um, well, I’m sorry you had a fight right before the game,” you acknowledged. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Tashi assured you. “I just don’t know what I’m doing with him. It’s not as if I don’t know that he’s in love with you. I didn’t think it mattered since what we have is basically just meaningless sex, but I guess it matters more than I thought.”

You couldn’t shake the guilt that twisted your stomach. The weight of your unintended influence on Tashi and Patrick’s relationship made you want to avoid her gaze, heart heavy with regret.

“If it’s worth anything, I really don’t think Patrick’s in love with me,” you tried to reassure your best friend.

“You need to stop underestimating the influence you have on people,” Tashi almost scolded you. She stopped stretching to stand up and smile, reassuring you she wasn’t mad. “It’s basically impossible not to love you, Y/I. Everyone at Stanford does, and I think it’s because you’re finally being yourself. Patrick and Art saw a glimpse of it that night in the hotel room, and it was enough for them to fall in love with you–” You opened your mouth to argue, and Tashi shook her head– “Look, it’s okay. I just wanted to talk to you before getting ready for the match. I’ll see you on the court, okay? Go do your usual prep,” she said, effectively dismissing you.

“Okay, I’ll see you there,” you agreed reluctantly.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐕𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 – 𝟒:𝟐𝟏𝐏𝐌.

You barely remembered how you reacted when Tashi injured her knee and crumpled to the ground. All it took was one cry from your best friend before you ran onto the court and knelt beside her, ordering her to breathe and stay calm as your coaches and the team doctor came to help her. Art had joined you, leaping over the net to get to you faster and staring at Tashi’s blown-out knee with wide eyes.

Now, in the training room of the tennis centre, you sat beside Tashi, frozen in place.

Your eyes were wide with shock as you saw Tashi nervously shake her functional leg as she waited to hear what the doctors had to say. Your heart pounded erratically, each beat echoing in your chest like a drum. Time seemed to blur, the moment of the accident searing itself into your mind with terrifying clarity. You could barely recall anything else, every other detail of the day fading into insignificance. Numb and disoriented, you struggled to process the scene you had witnessed, Tashi’s anguished cries playing in a loop.

The only thing anchoring you to reality was the harsh grip Tashi had on your left hand. Her fingers dug into your skin, grounding you amidst the chaos and confusion. You could feel the trembling of her hand, matching the tremor in your own body, a silent testament to your shared fear. Despite the overwhelming noise of doctors and coaches whispering in the background, that small point of contact kept you from spiralling into complete panic.

Your other hand was being held by Art in a limp clasp as he gawked at Tashi’s wrapped knee. When the doctors first carried Tashi away and told you to stay back until she was treated, you fell apart in Art’s arms, sobbing until you were too dehydrated to produce more tears. The shock left you feeling cold in your Stanford-red tennis dress, and one of your coaches lent you her hoodie to keep you warm for your game.

You were still expected to play your game after everything that happened.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, shoes squeaking as the owner came to a quick halt in the doorway. “I’m sorry,” Patrick apologised. Everyone’s heads snapped in his direction. You had forgotten he was there with all the hurry and panic.

Tashi leaned forward in her seat and glared at him, dropping your hand. “Out.”

“Listen, Tashi–”

“–Get out!” she screamed, pointing.

“Tashi–”

“–Get out! Out!”

“–Tashi, Tashi, listen, please–”

Tashi’s voice cracked with pain and emotion as she yelled, each word laced with raw, burning anger she had never felt so intensely before, “Out! Out!” The resentment in her eyes blazed, cutting through the air like a knife, her body trembling with the force of her fury.

You froze, so Art stood to help your best friend. “Patrick, get the fuck out!” he screamed, knowing it would hurt Patrick but knowing Tashi’s immediate needs were more important.

Panting from running across campus and shouting, Patrick stared at his best friend with surprise and hurt in his eyes. He stood there, his face pale and eyes wide with shock, Art’s words hitting him like a physical blow. His mouth opened and closed, trying to find something to say, but no sound emerged. He exhaled slowly, looking at Tashi before his eyes landed on you. Art squeezed your hand, shaking you out of your frozen state. With one last glance at Art, Patrick turned and left.

“Y/N, it’s time for your game,” your coach said, smiling sympathetically at you and Tashi.

“I want to go to the hospital with Tashi,” you argued, barely finding your voice.

“You should go,” Tashi retorted, not looking at you. She crossed her arms and stared at the wall ahead of her. “There’s no point in us losing our chance at the championships if you throw the match. Just play. I’ll see you after.”

You were caught off guard, your breath hitching at the unexpected words that left Tashi’s mouth. Your mind raced to catch up, struggling to process the sudden shift in the conversation. The room seemed to spin, leaving you momentarily speechless and unsteady. “If you’re sure–”

“I’m sure. Just go.” Tashi looked sideways at your boyfriend, and your chest stung as you realised she would look everyone in the eyes except you. “Go with her, Art. I don’t want her out there alone.”

“But then you’ll be alone,” you pointed out. “Tashi, I really don’t think–”

“Please, Y/I,” Tashi begged you. Watching your best friend struggle to hold back tears was heartbreaking. Her eyes shimmered, and her lower lip trembled. She blinked rapidly, her breath hitching in a futile attempt to regain control. “You know me better than anyone and if you stay I’m going to fall apart, and I just can’t do that right now. Please go.” Every subtle quiver of Tashi’s voice betrayed the depth of her pain.

Reluctantly, you stood from your chair and kissed your best friend’s forehead. “I’ll see you at the hospital after,” you promised. “I love you, T.”

“I love you too, Y/I.”

#challengers #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader #tashi duncan #challengers movie #challengers fanfiction #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig imagine #mike faist x reader #josh o connor x reader #fic: guilty as sin?

680 notes · View notes