#any place she might settle down it's a bit different

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fool's Game 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki Laufeyson

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Loki and Bugsy.

Summary: strangers on a train aren’t as strange as they seem.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

He doesn't see her on the platform. It's dismaying but not entirely unprecedented. She clearly wasn't faring well the day prior, perhaps she took some sick time. Funny, for so long as he's followed her, she's been there like clockwork. Just as he had. The few times he forwent the train for a ride with a colleague or instead clocked in late, he was still certain to see her home.

It unsettles Loki as the tracks scream with the arrival of his morning transport. She doesn't board. She simply isn't there.

He stares at the empty seat. Then he looks at his feet. Hers are usually there, sometimes even scuffing his toes as she squirms. It's quite unexciting without the mashing of buttons and the low hum of her headset. He is annoyed by the coughs and sighs of his fellow passengers. They are much more agitating than her addled grunts and groans as she fights her animated demons.

Hm. He can only hope she is taking time to recover from whatever had her so forlorn. He wonders if she discovered his little omen of comfort. Did she have it with tea?

Those thoughts only feed his restlessness. The commute drags on and he is want to shove past the rest of the passengers by the time he reaches his stop. The cramping of his long legs is more nagging that day as he disembarks. When he reaches his office, he finds his coworkers too loud and the lights too bright. He closes himself up behind his closed door and tuts.

He doesn't eat lunch. He has this bad feeling in his stomach. She's fine. He keeps telling himself so but it's hardly convincing.

The train ride home is just despairing. He keeps his leather bag in his lap, not even bothering to tuck it into the overhead. Her seat is filled by another. Not a regular. No, the man is squat and bald and keeps blowing his nose in his sleeve. Where is she?

It is only one day, good man. Settle. He girds himself as he nearly misses his stop.

He does not live far from the station. In the summers, he prefers the walk. The season is almost at an end, he should bask in it while he can. Besides, he needs to untie his nerves.

His condo waits for him in shadows. He flips on the entryway light and sets his bag on the side table. He unties his shoes and places them neatly on the rack. He slides his phone free of his jacket pocket and strides through the dark to his bedroom. He disposes of his blazer, tie, and belt. He undoes a button as he goes back down and enters the kitchen. The fixture above glows at the flick of his finger. He pours a glass of wine and his stomach growls monstrously. He should eat.

She will be back tomorrow. All will be as it should be. He takes out one of his prepped meals and lays it on a small metal tray. He heats it up in the toaster oven, it's always crisper that way. He eats between dry sips.

He doesn't sleep very much. Each time he closes his eyes, he thinks of her. When he opens them too. He rolls onto his side and runs his hand over the empty space. Foolish, he rebukes himself. How he imagines her there, beside him.

The morning rises and he stares at the corners of the room. Get up.

What is he doing? Spending all his time thinking about her? Doing nothing.

His brother might be a bit off with that group of his but they at least want to do something. They just haven't any good ideas. Well, what would he do?

Sweep her off her feet. Somehow. But he hasn't even told her his name. There was the time she caught his phone as he stood and she gave it back to him. He founds his tongue all tied up. Impotent! It is what he is. He cannot get over himself and for what? Look at her. She is so lost. She has only her games and her plushy sweaters and fuzzy bags. She needs guidance. She needs him.

He showers and readies to face the day. To see her. He dabs a bit of his favourite cologne behind his jaw. He doesn't know why. Ah, he is keen on this green tie.

He packs his lunch and shoulders his bag. He stops before he heads out. This place is big. Empty. He could make room. Her shoes would fit next to his. Her coats even. He'd make the space.

Go on, get out of here. Get out of your head.

He gets to the platform and twiddles his fingers. He searches for her. At his height, he can pick out most. His cheek twitches. She is not there. Again. Please, she must be late. Must be.

The train gets there before her. He hesitates. Perhaps he should wait and see if she is running behind. He could take the next, make it up by skipping lunch. Again.

No, he must be off. There is that rather important meeting. He sighs and climbs aboard.

He sits across from the empty seat. It stays that ray as the train lurches forward. Again, he is tormented. He cannot help but come back to that big question; where is she?

Another tedious day. Too many meetings, too much tea. He goes home. Alone. Once more. Like always. He tires of it. He is weary.

A glass of wine and no more sleep. She is not there again. He fidgets until he reaches his building. Then he paces in the privacy of his office.

He dials out to his brother. He does not pick up. No doubt distracted. By his own little hobby. Loki could laugh. The woman is sick, she has enough issues.

He wiles away his day with worry. His brother still will not answer. Hm. He does have that meeting today. He could seek him out there. Perhaps the others will have some advice, not that he would relish in sharing it all with them.

Damned too hell. He will take a half-day. He leaves and catches the train before it can barrel away. He's breathless. He hops off at his stop and nearly trips over himself. He's really doing this.

He is unfamiliar with the route. He knows her address but it is opposite his own. When he finds her building, he is not quite sure what to do with himself.

She's a few floors up. He supposes climbing onto the balcony is a bit much. He is as much a dolt as his brother. What is he doing?

Then he stops short. That bright purple cap assures him before he even sees her face. She crosses the street before she can spot him. He waits until a few cars pass before he follows.

She doesn't sense him. She shuffles along and finds a bench behind a large red building. Some community centre.

He feels ridiculous behind the tree as he leans and listens. She clears her throat. He peeks out as she puts her phone to her ear.

Her conversation is typical. 'Hi' and a few babbles here and there. He can hear the voice on the other end. Then she sniffles.

"I lost my job... dad, please--"

She huffs and he looks again. Her shoulders and head droop. Her phone is on the bench. The call is over.

That explains it. It isn't him at all. She only lost her job. Oh, my. How unfortunate.

Well, this could be an opportunity. For both of them. He just needs to figure how.

He checks his watch. The meeting...

[analyticallyminded]

one of the things i really love abt when jemma leaves shield is that she just. does whatever she feels is gonna make her happy, especially when it comes to her house and doesn't care what other people think of it? like she wants flowers on her stair risers then dammit she's gonna paint flowers (or get decals or something) on her stair risers. she wants rocks arranged like flowers around her garden? she's gonna do that too. she wants to set up a throwing range? guess what.

if you ever go to her home, that truly is where you get the best sense of her as a person, because it's her little haven, she she feels she can be herself openly and it shows everywhere

[mv1simp]

I love your stories so much, please write more dark manipulative Max, maybe something with mindbreak or bimbofication of an innocent reader? It would be fun if she was Toto's daughter and Max so holds it over Toto.

this is for all the dark!Max/toto’s daughter/bimbo/mindbreak reader requests all you freaks have been requesting 😼😼 for the first time i have something for the dark!lando girlies!!

Double Fantasy ♥️

Max Verstappen x Lando’s Fuckbuddy!Reader

I can tell that you think that I’m right for you, I already know that it's not true, but girl I'll lie to you (even though it's wrong)

Recently becoming a media executive for the FIA, you can’t deny that your dream job has given you access to your dream men. Sadly, your top pick, Max Verstappen doesn’t look twice your way - not interested in the daughter of Toto Wolff, who he openly dislikes. But you gladly enjoy your consolation prize of being Lando Norris’s fuckbuddy. You didn’t realise just how far Lando planned on extending your arrangement when he pisses the Dutch champion off one step too far - and now needs to figure out the perfect gift to give Max and make amends.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark! max, dark! Lando, but bimbo!reader is into it lol, have done a twist on the usual innocent! reader, she’s toto’s daughter also, dubcon, blindfold, BDSM, no threesomes sorry I can’t share max with anyone else, WC 5.6k

Multiple heads turn your way as you make your way down the FIA garage, your YSL black and gold heels clicking smoothly on the floor. You can’t hold back the pleased smile on your pink glossed lips at the appreciative glances over your curvy figure. At 22, you’ve landed your dream job as a marketing and media executive for the FIA. Glowing recommendations, a perfect GPA and of course a touch of good old fashioned nepotism via your dad, the Mercedes team principal Toto Wolff, landed you here, dressed in luxury outfits and regularly networking with some of the richest people on the continent. What can you say? You’re a material girl, after all, with a pleasure for the finer things in life.

And that included an appreciation of rich, powerful men that you inherited as a result of a strict and emotionless father who preferred to spend his time running a motorsports corporation instead of at home. Daddy issues, one might even say (actually your therapist had said exactly that.) So the Formula One grid, filled to the brim with hot, millionaire drivers who have no issue flirting with the new pretty little toy on the paddock, was the perfect place for a girl like you to work. You definitely had your fun, arriving a few months ago for your first day, dressed in a tight yet full length maxi dress, giving you the perfect blend of sexy and demure that had much of the paddock panting after you.

But you were a girl with a taste for luxury - you weren’t going to settle for any dirty mechanic or plain news reporter. No, what you wanted more than anything, was to get the best of both worlds like your lucky bitch of a stepmom Susie Wolff had done - FIA executive and WAG of the hottest and richest team principal. Even you had to admit, apart from your dad, the rest of the principals were a little bit too far on the balding old men side. But the drivers, you thought wickedly, the drivers were a completely different story. And they knew they were some of the most desired men on the planet, with their fame and status. Their egos were sky high - especially since multiple women would be throwing themselves at them every race weekend or media day. So you had made sure to play the game very, very carefully - unlike the other sultry models on the paddock, or conservative women dressed head to toe in basic team gear, you were the very picture of innocence with your sweet makeup and dark curls, cute girly dresses and heels, all shy giggles one minute and then serious, no nonsense businesswoman the next to keep them on their toes.

A lot of the drivers ate it up, too, flocking to Toto Wolff’s pretty daughter when they’d see you doing the occasional post race interview or brazenly flirting with you at a drivers’ meeting. But the one man who you truly wanted, the 26 year old in the Redbull gear with 3 world champions and a multimillionaire contract to his name, with intense blue eyes and thick thighs and broad shoulders, with a deep voice that sent shivers down your spine one second then flutters in your heart the next when you’d hear him laugh - he was the man who didn’t look twice your way. Despite your attempts to flutter your eyelashes, wearing tight outfits and bend over just so in a certain angle, or pressing your generous tits up against his bulging biceps as your breathlessly whisper Congratulations on the win, Max he wouldn’t even show a flicker of reciprocal interest. You were the daughter of Toto, after all - a principal who he was quite well known in the media for having ongoing disputes with for numerous years. As if Max Verstappen was going to be seduced by the likes of a gold digging daughter who was probably just as two faced as her father.

You’d pouted for weeks, growing bitter with jealousy at seeing Max instead walk around with Kelly, a pretty, tall and slim model who’d apparently outplayed you. But to your delight, you stumbled upon the best consolation prize. With all your pining you hadn’t realized you’d snagged one of the hottest and most desirable drivers on the grid - McLaren’s Lando Norris. Well, snagged was one way to put it - after all, a playboy like him was hard to pin down, especially when he knew how much pull he had over women. But you’d thought about that to, even going so far as saving your virginity like the perfect daddy’s little girl you were. Lando ate it up, twistedly enjoying getting to corrupt the paddock’s pretty princess, the one everyone wanted to get a piece off. So unlike the other women he slept with, the ones kept secret and hidden from the media, you were his favourite toy - one that he paraded around whenever you’d be in the same city. Not quite a girlfriend, of course, he was far too much of a flirt to put such a label on you so soon - more of a friends with benefits, a high maintenance fling, a fuckbuddy, some might call it.

And once you had your manicured hands clinging onto his arms at the races you sure as hell did not plan on letting go. Toto was not overly happy at the news that his eldest daughter was involved with a driver, of course, but had accepted it as Lando was still a good choice compared to many of the other drivers he wanted you to stay well away from - like Mad Max. So you stayed loyal to Lando, not wanting any rumours about you flirting with multiple drivers to impact your dad’s important reputation. You’d only flutter your lashes at Lando, kissing his cheek diligently with your glossed lips, sending the naughty photos of you in expensive lingerie just for him - because the rewards you got as his paddock arm candy were just too good. Always making sure your face was well cut out from any pictures, of course - you would die if they got leaked and your father found out.

But being Lando’s fuckbuddy came with a whole line of luxuries you’d quickly grown accustomed too. Tickets to whatever show you wanted, the finest food at the most expensive restaurant, the papparazzi going crazy at whatever outfit you’d wear when clinging onto Lando’s arm, and of course one of the most coveted men in the world between your legs, teaching you how to come apart on his fingers. That’s right, his fingers, and very rarely his cock, because you needed to secure that diamond ring, after all. And you sure as hell weren’t going to give him wife privileges 24/7 when he hadn’t even made you his official girlfriend yet. So instead you tried to push him to the limits, testing his patience to give up and retire his playboy ways if he finally got to bury his desperate dick inside your heavenly tight pussy again, after having taken your virginity.

Truly, you had outdone yourself, you thought, as every passing race this season Lando got more and more tense as tensions for the World Championships grew, with McLaren finally being able to threaten the Verstappen Red Bull reign for the first time in years. And with each passing race, he couldn’t relieve the tension enough, trying to furiously fuck his way through all number of vogue models but somehow always finding himself back with you, desperately begging to be let in between your soft thighs. And like always, you’d blink innocently and coo that you felt too shy, wasn’t last time enough, you didn’t want to ruin yourself for the man you were going to marry, remember?

And Lando would groan, because as much as he wanted you, he also knew there was no way in hell he was ready to take you to the altar over this. Although it had been getting harder and harder to resist, lately, because although you were truly so talented with your small hands and sweet, drooling mouth, he would endlessly replay the heaven that your pussy had felt like the rare few times you’d let him enter you with his cock.

But as the season went on even you couldn’t calm Lando down, especially after the Zandervoot race. Tensions were at an all time high between him and his normally good friend Max, after Lando stole his home race under him and even sealed the deal by throwing the Dutchman’s simply lovely phrase back at him cockily. Max was well and truly pissed off at Lando then, not even turning upto their weekly Padel games or replying to his texts. Although Lando wanted to win the championship, he also wanted to remain good mates with Max - especially because he knew being on Mad Max’s bad side always ended with the opponent finding themselves crashing into a wall at the next race. So as he pondered just what he could do to get his friend’s forgiveness, a wicked idea came to him, one night when he was out at a Monaco nightclub with you and had run into Max partying with his friends. He’d tried to talk to Max, but had been rudely ignored, so instead Lando stood off the corner, rather crossly glaring at the Dutchman, when he noticed you’d disappeared from his side to tipsily wander to the bar and get another drink.

He was about to go help you when he saw you stumble, maybe take you to the bathroom for a quick sloppy blowjob - but was suprised to see Max appear at your side, his intense blue eyes watching your tinier frame carefully as he rested a large palm over your plump ass to secure you. And Lando watched as you giggled happily, twirling your hair as Max handed over his black Amex to pay for your drink, rewarded with a lingering lip glossed kiss on his cheek from you, before you scampered back over to where Lando was hidden in the shadows. And as you loyally returned to Lando’s arms, whispering that you were going to make him feel so good tonight, he seemed so tense, the Brit found himself ignoring your seductive words entirely to instead focus on how Max’s hungry gaze lingered on your ass as you had strutted away from the tall blonde man. A sinister grin appeared on Lando’s face as he pieced it all together. He’d always thought it was weird that Max chose to completely ignore you, given that he normally was a friendly guy off the track. Turns out his good mate was just trying to avoid getting involved with Toto’s paddock bunny of a daughter, huh?

Turning his attention to you, Lando whispered if you could pretty please try out something new for him tonight, because he was really stressed, okay? He watches you nod eagerly, foolishly thinking your plan to get Lando so desperate for you that he was ready to put a ring on your finger was working. Too bad you had no idea that instead, your fuckbuddy was thinking about how he’d just found the perfect present to gift to his angry rival.

So that’s how you found yourself in a plush hotel bed later that night, all dressed up in a pretty white lace and mesh set and still in your heels, your eyes blindfolded with your hands tied behind your back. You eyes had gone wide with excitement, thighs clenching when Lando had pulled the ropes out, and you’d had to blush and act all innocent when secretly you couldn’t be happier that you were drawing out the dirtier desires in Lando. Because that meant he was falling for you all the more, right?

You had no idea about the private conversation your fuckbuddy had been having with the driver you’d previously desired, just outside the club in a dark alleyway, where Lando had finally cornered Max to apologise. The furious Dutchman had, as expected, been in no mood to hear it - but had stopped in his tracks and turned around when Lando slyly suggested that as he had taken something of his, it was only fair that Max get one of Lando’s precious things in return. Like maybe…you?

At the mention of your name, Max furrows his brows, telling Lando he wasn’t interested in the latest toy on the grid who spread her legs for whichever driver gave her some attention. Oh, Lando all but purred, that’s the catch, mate. She’s basically still a virgin, was one when I met her, only let me fuck her a couple of times, wants to save herself for the one or some shit. But I trained her how to use her holes, and fuck does she know how to suck a guy off with that sweet mouth of hers.

That’d caught Max’s attention, and he smirked to Lando, calling him a fucked up asshole for selling out the girl who was loyal to him like this, who was Toto Wolff’s daughter, no less - a powerful man someone like Lando wouldn’t want to make an enemy off. The Brit shrugged. Toto’s never going to find out. What’s mine is yours, mate. Enjoy. And with that, he tossed his room key to Max.

That night, Lando didn’t feel bad, not even one bit, as he tightly wound the rope around your delicate little wrists, knowing that you loved to act all innocent but secretly kinky shit like this has you dripping. Especially if you were going to be ruined tonight by a man who you secretly still had desires for - and Lando was certain you did, judging from the way he’d seen you look at Max like he was a God you wanted to worship on your knees. Really, he was being a good friend to you both by letting it happen - just this once of course, he wasn’t going to just hand you over to his track rival after putting in so much work to train you to be the perfect sex toy. So he’d left you there all alone in the room, abruptly saying he had an urgent call and would be back.

The drinks you’d had earlier certainly had their affects on you, making you whine against the tight ropes on your flushed and sensitive skin, almost grateful for the blindfold as you felt overstimulated already. When you finally heard the hotel door reopen, you sighed in relief as your fuckbuddy - soon to be boyfriend, you hoped! - finally came back. In your wildest fantasies you’d never have guessed that instead of Lando locking the door, Max stood in his place - and had taken one look at your tempting, restrained form and realized that the sly Brit had definitely not told you about his plans for tonight. Keeping you blind and tied up while you were tricked into thinking it was your beloved Brit entering you and not your daddy’s enemy, Max Verstappen? It was so dirty that Max got an instant hard on. He’d seen the looks, the touches you gave him too - they were rather hard to miss, after all. But he’d played aloof, not wanting to give into your gold digging ways - but he’d admit that he’s been rather disappointed when he found you’d settled for Lando instead. You’d surprised him with how loyal you remained to the McLaren driver, dutifully remaining by his side and avoiding Max’s intense gaze when it would occasionally flicker over to you. But when the alcohol had loosened your inhibitions tonight, Max had seen the desire in your blown pupils, in your hardened nipples that peaked just at the edge of your dress, and had cockily smirked at the realisation that Lando’s little toy, Toto’s precious daughter - that she was still lusting after him.

And now that this opportunity had presented itself….well, let’s just say that it had Max grinning wickedly as he plotted up all the ways he could walk away with both you and the world championship from Lando this year. That would certainly teach the younger male to mess with what was his, wouldn’t it? And even better, it would put that arrogant prick Toto in his place, keep him from daring to speak out against Max in the media when Redbull trashed Mercedes - because his adored little daughter would be spending the race weekends on her hands and knees for the Dutch world champion, if Max had anything to say about it.

So that’s how Max found himself at the foot of the bed, stripping off his clothes and lazily jerking himself off as he watched you squirm underneath your ropes, pouting as you couldn’t do your usual bit of trailing teasing hands all over Lando and rile him up. Baby? You crooned, tilting your head in the direction you thought he was in. Aren’t you going to-Oh!

You felt his warm, large palms cup your cheek, tracing your glossy, pink lips and you automatically poke your tongue out to circle his finger. Good girl, he sighed, the words making your tummy flutter. He sounded a little different to usual, his voice deeper, lower, but it was hard to think clearly over how much your head was pounding from raw desire, and you liked how he sounded tonight. You were feeling really horny and couldn’t wait for him to finally fuck you too - having had to desperately ride your tiny vibrator after stopping Lando fucking you multiple times this month.

His hands continued their path, trailing over your delicate throat and teasingly encircling it with his large hand, making you gasp - you hadn’t remembered it being quite so large that it wrapped around the whole width of your neck. But maybe your senses were more attuned now since you were blindfolded? It felt really good.

You promptly forgot to think about that any longer when those large hands moved downwards, roughly palming your bouncy tits and making you giggle from his attention. He teased and squeezed them, tugging down on the lace to free them in the open air, twisting on your hardened cute nipples. You squealed from the abuse to your overly sensitive areolas, distracted, and didn’t notice when your hands ended up being untied - only to be guided to a very large and hard cock.

Baby, you’d giggled, it’s been so long that you’re even bigger than I remembered. He swore under his breath as you diligently jerked him off with your two small hands barely wrapping around his length, spitting on it cutely to ease the glide. And then he’s rubbing his leaking cock all over your tits, slapping them with it and chuckling darkly as they jiggled, all wet from his precum. Before you know it, you were drooling and suckling all over his cock, sweetly moaning how good he tasted, even more than last time. Suckling his balls and then licking all the way the very tip, just like he’d taught you, placing messy lip gloss stained kisses down the wet shaft before sucking them clean off. You made sure to pay extra attention to the thick veins that ran underneath his length, even the new ones you hadn’t felt before, because he’d told you it drove men wild.

And when he grabbed your pretty curls, you let your mouth go lax so he could pump his full length furiously down your inviting throat, groaning how much of a good girl you were, maybe your full time job should be sucking his cock instead of trotting about the paddock. You moaned excitedly at the idea, and when he cums, all thick and creamy, you obediently swallow it all up.

Look, daddy, you say rather sluttily, dropping your mouth wide open, tongue out as you showed him how well you’d drank all his cum. Fuck, that’s so dirty, calling me and your father the same name, huh? Should’ve known you’d be into kinky shit like this.

You scrunch your brows cutely in confusion, not sure what he meant by that because you’d called him daddy many times before. But you don’t get to ponder too long because you suddenly hear the sound of a camera click and can see the flash go off through the blindfold. Your tummy lurches, because Nooo, baby, no photos, please, what if my dad sees-

Your pleas are ignored as you’re being lifted by two broad arms and tossed onto the bed, your hands dragged up and over your head as your wrists are tied to the headboard. You’re whining, asking him what he was doing, this was too much, you wanted to see him now, to touch him, but again you don’t get an answer.

Instead, you feel his thick fingers hooking around the sides of your soaked panties and sliding them off, lewd strings of your wetness clinging to the lace as it’s pulled away. Then you hear him deeply exhale a fucking hell, making you blush as strong hands grasp your ankles and push them far apart so your intimate parts are exposed for his hungry gaze.

That’s all the warning you get before there’s a foreign sensation of his warm breath blowing on your puffy folds, making you gasp, and before a broad tongue licks a stripe clean up your pink slit. You squeal in suprise, again stupidly babbling and asking what he was doing, because normally Lando didn’t like going down on you, finding it too much effort for a quick stress relieving fuck - he much preferred having you suck him off instead.

But the mouth currently lapping at your folds seems to have realized just how unfamiliar this pleasure seems to be for your sensitive cunny, because he buries his face right in, licking and slurping up all your dripping wetness. You thrash against your restrains, incoherently moaning because it feels so good baby, mmmh, why didn’t he do this more?

He laughs huskily, still buried inside your folds, and the deep vibrations make you almost cum right then and there. Your whole body is burning up with need now and you’re begging for him to put the condom on and slide in it, daddy, please, you needed it so bad-

You both moan as he finally sinks home, your creamy pussy gushing around him as it welcomes him in. You feel breathless at the size of him, because again he’s bigger and thicker than you remembered - not even just his cock, but his whole body, his bulging biceps and broad chest being able to hold you down with ease. You let him know it, too, whining that he’s so strong, it was really hot, had he been working out more?

That made him laugh again, lips grinning right by your ear, as he tilts your hips up to meet his and starts fucking your gushing pussy roughly. Through your euphoric daze, you feel familiar butterflies swirl in your stomach at the deep laugh, the accent sounding so different from Lando’s but still familiar to you for some reason - yet you still couldn’t quite place it. It was impossible to focus with the way he was thrusting into you, his hands pressing your hips down into the mattress in a bruising grip, making your tits bounce with each pump, your breath come out in soft pants as you gasped for air. You’re about to cum, you can feel it, the intensity building up-

And then, finally, he takes off your blindfold. Your brown eyes take a second to adjust to the bright lights - and then you widen them in pure shock as you realize just who’s wide cock was splitting you open.

You scream as Max grins wickedly down at you, pulling back to leave just his leaking tip inside your tight cunny, before slamming back in and, setting a bed breaking pace and drowning out your panicked wails with the loud banging of the headboard against the walls. You’re doing so good for me, schatje he croons, his voice sickly sweet but his actions pure evil as he grabs your dirty panties and meanly shoves them past your plush lips. Grabbing your soft thighs, he tosses them over his shoulder as he bullies his cock into you even deeper from this angle, repeatedly hitting your poor cervix. Tears pool in your brown doe eyes as you look at where he enters you, horrified as you see he’s making you take his cock raw - something Lando and you never did despite how hot it sounded as a baby outside of marriage would be too much for both of your families. You cry and wail and scream, tears streaming down your face at the embarrasing and degrading treatment you’re experiencing. Really, it’s such wicked and sinful behaviour and you should hate Max so much for this, hate Lando for leaving you all tied up and alone and defenceless against his evil and twisted rival to take advantage of you like this, to bully your practically virgin cunny with each deep thrust from his massive cock.

So why are you rapidly reaching your orgasm even faster than before?

Max has apparently learnt the signs of your pliant body underneath him far too quickly, because he slides his thick cock out of your swollen cunny and instead rests it just on top of your folds. Almost lovingly wiping your tears away with a flick of his thumb, he demands that you beg for it, for his cock to split you in half, to cum inside you, for him, Max, to be the only man you ever let inside your sweet pussy from now on.

You frantically shake your head, your muffled no no nos an obvious contrast to what you secretly wanted, as you’re simultaneously bucking your hips up against his hard length, drenching it in new slick. He smirks, leaning down so your foreheads meet and sweetly kissing up your tears. Despite the depravity of the situation, you’re finding yourself blushing from the unexpected gesture. Schatje, he whispers darkly, sending shivers up your spine because you’d always gotten jealous hearing him call other women that, you’re making this so much harder on yourself. It’s going to be so fun to watch you fall apart for me.

With that, he agonisingly tortures you, dragging just his tip through your folds again and again, slapping your throbbing clit with his head, biting and sucking on your sensitive nipples that leaves you arching your back into his talented mouth. You’re struggling to make sense of what’s going on, of trying to keep coherent. All that hard work and patience to try and lure Lando in was gone the very second your pussy had welcomed Max into it, because you knew Lando would never take you back if he found out about this. Your desperate brain reasons that then, it shouldn’t matter, right? It was too late for you and Lando. And now, you had Max Verstappen using your pretty body however he wanted, making you fulfill all his twisted desires. If you showed him how good you could be for him, be the perfect little pet for all his frustrations to be let out at, maybe he’d keep you around…permanently?

Max didn’t miss the dazed look that had overtaken your wide doe eyes as your whines quietened down. Guess all his teasing had finally melted that scheming brain of yours. Yanking your panties out of your mouth, he asked you if you were ready to behave and ask him nicely.

You nod obediently, looking at him with heart eyes as you confess that his cock felt so good, so addictive, you don’t think you could ever go back to Lando after being stretched open so wide, and could he pretty please fuck you hard and good?

Max growls at your submissive words. You’re offering yourself up to me so sweetly, baby. How can I say no?

He unties your aching wrists, running his soothing palms over the rope marked skin, bending down to give you a passionate, open mouthed kiss. You greedily slurp at his intruding tongue, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure as he lines himself up at your entrance before easily sinking into the wet folds. This time, he doesn’t stop his wicked thrusts, not when you’re squirting on his cock, eyes rolling to the back of your head, not when a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock from your cum, not when you’re tangling your hands in his hair and whining that it’s too much, you’re going to pass out.

He only stops once he’s tensing above you, one hand squeezing your neck and the other gripping the headboard as he drains his entire load into your tight cunny desperately clenching around him. Yours is truly the sweetest pussy he’s ever fucked. He’s never letting you go. He cums so much that it spurts out past your pussy lips, all over your soft thighs.

After a while, when he’s done whispering praises into your ears, your gooey brain soaking it all up, he slides out of you, admiring how his cum leaks out of your cunny that had treated him very well tonight. He places a gentle kiss to your temple and lets you doze off for a bit. It takes you a while longer to come to your senses, and when you sit up, you gulp down the glass of cold water that has been placed on the bedside table. You see Max spread out on an armchair across the room, shirtless and in some grey sweats, smirking at something on his phone - but he looks up when he hears you and lets his gaze drift down your marked up body. You flush under his intense ice blue eyes, heart fluttering at finally getting attention from the richest and fastest driver on the grid.

He beckons you over, calling you his pretty schatje, and in your blissed out state you obediently crawl over to him on your hands and knees, settling in between his spread legs and resting your head against his large thigh. And when he tells you that you looked so cute crawling for him, maybe next time he’ll get you a leash and collar with his name on it, hmm? you bite your lip and shyly nod, telling him of course, you’d do whatever daddy wanted.

He grins darkly, pleased with your submissive response, knowing you’re completely his. Forget Toto, forget Lando, the only man you’d ever be loyal to from now on was him. So you eagerly open your juicy lips wide at his command, drooling all over his cock to clean up the sticky mess your pussy walls had left behind. And when he points his phone at you, hitting record, you glassily stare straight at the camera, letting it capture how you hollowed your cheeks and licked up the creamy ring coating the base of Max��s cock. Gonna send this to your father if he keeps lying about how I’ve going to sign a Mercedes contract next year, Max teases meanly. Or to Lando if he tries to overtake me on the track again. You whine at him, brown doe eyes distressed, and start deepthroating him even faster to please him more, hoping if you did he wouldn’t show your daddy or ex fuckbuddy how much of a slut you were for the champion driver.

Being on your knees and obediently blowing Maxie was a position you became very familiar with. Because like he had wanted, every race weekend you would break your FIA contract clause of remaining unbiased and be dressed in a skimpy little outfit in Redbull colours, your lush tits pushed against Max’s thick biceps as you clung onto him through his paddock walk. Max couldn’t resist smirking at the Mercedes garage where Toto would glare, arms crossed, at the sight of his well accomplished daughter following the reckless Redbull champion around like a lost bunny. Placing a possessive large palm across your ass as he guided you into his private jet, giving it a good squeeze, Max made sure the paparazzi caught a good pic of that, too, for your father to see later when he opened Twitter.

And Lando, who knew how much Max despised sharing his toys, skulked from his seat when he saw you entering Max’s plane for the ride back to Monaco. He’d make sure to never make the mistake of flying in the Verstappen jet again, he thought as he moodily shoved his headphones over his ears to drown out the filthy sounds and desperate moans you let out as Max fucked you raw on the other side of the cabin divider. You’d never let Lando fuck you in such a public place or so often, no matter how often he’d begged you.

Fuck it, might as well make the most of it, the Brit thought once he stopped moping and realised his music wasn’t going to block out the obscene squelches as his rival continued to greedily bounce your creamy pussy on his thick cock. Shoving his hand down his pants, Lando slowly started jerking himself off, smirking when he sees one of Max’s air hostesses blush and bite her lip when he catches her looking. Apparently he hadn’t learnt his lesson of keeping his hands off what belonged to the Dutchman after all, because soon he’s thrusting into the hostess’s willing mouth with the same rapid pace that Max is fucking you with.

Your father had always said birds of a feather flocked together, after all.

—————————————————————————

A/N: POST FIC CLARITY HIT HARD IN THIS ONE AHHHHHH 😳😳 hope this satisfies the dark max hoes (yall are so real for that)😼😼 as usual let me know what you think and send in more requests!

[w4ndal0ver]

teacher's pet (professor!agatha x student!reader)

W4NDALOVER'S KINKMAS | 2024

dec 6: teachers pet (professor!agatha x student!reader)

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

KINKMAS MASTERLIST | 2024

summary: Professor Harkness has always wanted you, but when you don't give into her advances she decides to use an enchanted quill in order to sway you in her direction.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, dubcon, enchanted quill, strap-on, begging, choking, mommy kink (used cautiously), slight breeding kink, kind of edging if you squint hard enough

teachers pet.

Agatha sat at her desk, a carefully measured distance between herself and the papers that lay before her. She had long since learned to enjoy the quiet moments alone in her office, the brief respite between the chaos of the outside world and the controlled environment she had created here. It was a sanctuary, a place where she could indulge in her thoughts. Thoughts of you.

She’d noticed you from the very first day you stepped into her office and over time, the quiet ache of her desire had only grown. Your eagerness, the way you were always the first to arrive at class, sitting at the front with a notebook in hand, always eager to ask questions, always searching for her approval. You were the perfect student, disciplined, careful - but there was something in the way you looked at her, something that went past mere respect.

She watched as you entered her office, just as you always did - tentative, but eager. Your hand, delicately rested against the doorframe for a moment before you stepped inside, a slight hesitation hanging in the air. Your gaze flickered toward her before quickly looking down at the floor, and Agatha’s lips curled into the smallest of smiles. 

You were still shy, still so innocent, but there was something undeniably captivating about you. The way you moved, so aware of your body, and yet, you couldn’t help but draw attention to yourself. The tightness of your skirts that gripped so perfectly to your ass, and she couldn’t deny that she’d caught a glimpse of you more and more. Your carefully chosen attire, always polished and proper, but undeniably teasing. 

“Professor, you wanted to discuss my project?” You say, your voice soft, a little hesitant, as though you weren’t entirely sure how to be in her presence. Agatha had heard that tone before. It was the sound of someone trying too hard to act professional, to hold onto some semblance of control, when in reality, they were anything but composed. 

She tilted her head, letting her eyes linger on you a moment longer than necessary, taking in the way your fingers nervously played with the hem of your skirt, how your lips pressed together just a little too slightly. 

“Of course, come in darling.” Agatha responded, her voice smooth. She gestured for you to sit, and as you settled into the chair across from her, she couldn’t help but notice how you shifted slightly, tugging your skirt down as though it might betray you. She bit back a laugh and how you were so unaware of how you made her feel.

Your hands rested on your lap, fingers curled slightly, the faint tremble just noticeable enough for Agatha to catch it. She knew what you were trying to do, trying to appear professional, trying to act as if this meeting was no different from any other. But she had seen you enough times to know the difference between what you showed and what you truly felt. The way your gaze lingered on her when you thought she wasn’t looking, the slight quiver of your lip when you asked a question that was a little too personal, a little too loaded.

Her gaze drifted to your face, watching as you shifted again, glancing down at your notes, a lock of hair falling across your forehead. Agatha could feel the pull between you both, an invisible thread that kept drawing her attention to you, to the way your lips parted slightly when you spoke, as though you were unsure of the words coming out, unsure of yourself.

“Everything seems to be progressing well with your project,” Agatha said, her voice smooth, but her mind already elsewhere. The light in your eyes, the way your shoulders were just a bit too stiff for someone so young, so open. You wanted something more. She was sure of it. You didn’t have to say it, Agatha could see it in every small gesture, every fleeting glance.

You were so careful, always so careful, never pushing beyond the boundary you had drawn around yourself. But Agatha knew, in her quietest moments, that you wanted to. She had seen it in the way you looked at her when you thought she wasn’t paying attention, the way your eyes lingered on her just a fraction longer than was appropriate. 

Her eyes fell to the desk, where the enchanted quill sat waiting. It had been in her possession for years, a relic of a past she tried to leave behind, and yet it called to her now, with an intensity she couldn’t ignore. With just a flick of her fingers, she could make this moment more than what it was, more than just a professor and her student. She could make you feel things, things that neither of you had ever allowed yourselves to feel before.

Agatha’s fingers brushed the edge of the quill, her gaze flickering over to you again. You were so beautiful in your innocence, so unaware of the depth of your own desire. But tonight, that would change.

“You’ll need to sign this for me,” Agatha said, breaking the silence, her voice suddenly sharper, more purposeful. She reached for the parchment, her fingers brushing against the edge of the quill as she pushed the document toward you. Your eyes followed her every movement, and she couldn’t miss the way you shifted in your seat, your chest rising and falling just a little faster than before.

You reached for the quill, your fingers brushing against the smooth, cool surface. Agatha’s heart skipped a beat. There it was. The magic would begin, slowly at first, unnoticed. But it would build, and when it did, you would have no choice but to acknowledge what you both had been avoiding for far too long.

The moment your fingers brushed the enchanted quill, a shift occurred in the room—subtle, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable. Agatha’s pulse quickened, her gaze locked on you with a quiet intensity as you signed your name on the parchment, the ink swirling a little too smoothly beneath your hand. She watched, savoring the way your shoulders tensed, the slight shift in your posture, as if something deep inside of you had stirred to life.

You didn’t know it yet, of course, but Agatha could already feel the subtle change in the air. The magic was working its way through your system, slow and steady, like a gentle tide pulling you under. You were still unaware, still looking down at the paper with a furrowed brow, your expression unreadable. But Agatha saw the smallest signs, the flush creeping up your neck, the way your breath seemed to catch in your throat.

“I also wanted to ask you about this part of your essay. It's a really interesting take.” Agatha says, wanting to confuse you even more as your head becomes fuzzy with the lust enchantment, knowing that the more you think about what to say, the more sensitive and desperate you’d become. 

You placed the quill back on the desk, the delicate tip still glimmering in the dim light of the office. Agatha leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping the edge of her pen, watching you closely. She could hear the soft rustle of your skirt as you shifted in the chair, the sound of your breath growing just a touch heavier with each passing moment. It was subtle, but it was there. The tension. The pull.

“You seem restless,” Agatha said, her voice low, almost a purr. She watched as your eyes flickered toward her, a brief hesitation before you met her gaze. The flush on your cheeks had deepened now, and Agatha couldn’t help but revel in the shift she had caused. She had always been so good at reading people, at sensing the smallest changes, and now she could see the effects of her subtle manipulation working its way through you.

You shifted again, this time more noticeable, a shift of your legs that made your skirt rise slightly, just enough for Agatha to catch a glimpse of the delicate skin beneath. She bit her lip, but only for a moment, as she kept her focus entirely on you. The way you crossed and uncrossed your legs, the way your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your sleeve, each motion a sign of the growing discomfort building within you. You weren’t just restless anymore; you were beginning to feel the weight of something unspoken, something you couldn’t quite name.

"Is everything alright?" Agatha asked, her voice soft, but her eyes sharp, taking in every little detail. She could see the way your eyes darted to her lips for the briefest of moments before you quickly looked away. The way you swallowed, throat bobbing, as though trying to push down something you didn’t know how to acknowledge.

"I - I think so," you murmured, but your voice was different now. The words came slower, as though you were struggling to keep your thoughts in order. Agatha saw it. The way your hands gripped the edge of your chair a little too tightly, the way your legs shifted restlessly beneath the table. There was no denying it now, the magic was working.

She leaned forward, just enough for her presence to feel closer, more palpable. She could see your chest rise and fall more quickly, your pupils dilating ever so slightly as she made the smallest movement, as though testing the waters.

"Are you sure?" Agatha's question hung in the air, almost teasing, but never fully pushing. She wanted to see just how far you would go, how much you would reveal before you could no longer control it. She had always watched you, watched you closely. She knew you were waiting for something, something that only she could give you.

You shifted again, a slight tremor in your hand as you placed it on the table, as if trying to steady yourself, but it only betrayed you. Agatha saw the way your fingers twitched, the way your eyes refused to meet hers, no matter how hard you tried to regain some semblance of control. You couldn’t hide it.

The air between you both was thick now, taut with something neither of you could name, but both of you could feel. The silence stretched for a moment before Agatha broke it with a soft, knowing smile.

"You don’t have to pretend with me," she said, the words laced with an almost untraceable sweetness. She could see the way your breath caught at the sound of her voice, the way your eyes flickered to her lips again, only this time, you didn’t look away.

You were slipping, Agatha realized, and she couldn’t help the small thrill that coursed through her. This was it. She had waited so long to see you like this, to watch you come undone before her eyes, and now, the anticipation of it was nearly unbearable.

You shifted in your seat once more, and Agatha’s eyes followed the movement, the way your body reacted to the growing heat between you both. She could see the slight sheen of sweat forming at the back of your neck, the way your breath was becoming more shallow, more labored. The quill had done its job, heightened your awareness, your sensitivity to every small movement, every fleeting touch.

"I- I think I need a moment," you whispered, your voice trembling now, no longer the calm, collected student she was used to.

Agatha’s lips curved upward, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across her face. She could feel the weight of your desire, could almost taste it in the air between you. She knew exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t yet understand it yourself.

"You can have all the time you need," she said softly, her voice a mere breath of sound, knowing full well that the moment had already passed. The spell had already begun its work. And there was no turning back now.

Agatha lets her gaze drop to your hands, noting the way your fingers curl just slightly, as though the movement is automatic, as if you’re trying to hold onto something—anything—to stop the flood of feelings threatening to overwhelm you. You’re so close now, so close to giving in, and Agatha relishes in the control she holds over you, the way every little gesture of yours betrays your struggle.

“Are you feeling... uncomfortable?” Agatha asks, her voice soft, like silk. She leans forward ever so slightly, just enough to see the way you flinch, the way your breath catches in your throat, like you’re suddenly hyper-aware of the way she’s watching you. Her eyes linger on your lips, and she can feel the subtle tension in your body as you fight not to follow her gaze, not to let the heat between you both become too obvious.

Your breath comes in shallow bursts now, faster than before. You shift in your seat again, a little more urgently this time, and Agatha watches as your legs move restlessly, the hem of your skirt inching higher, revealing the delicate curve of your calf. It’s an innocent movement, a natural shift, but Agatha’s eyes track it like a predator eyeing its prey. The magic of the quill hums in the air around you both, thickening the space between you, and she can feel the way it pulls at your resolve, making every small motion feel more intense, more charged with that irresistible pull.

“I, I don’t know what’s happening,” you whisper, your voice barely audible now, strained with the effort of trying to hold onto whatever control you have left. Your eyes flicker to hers for a fleeting moment, then quickly dart away, like a moth too afraid to fly too close to the flame.

Agatha feels her lips part in the smallest of smiles. You think you’re losing control, but she knows better. You’ve been wanting this, she tells herself, even as she watches you struggle against the tide. You want this. You just don’t have the courage to admit it yet.. Your hands clench tighter, your body swaying just slightly in your seat as though you can’t quite decide whether to move closer to her or flee. But Agatha knows. She knows you’ll stay. 

You’ve never felt like this before. You’ve had moments of embarrassment, the familiar flutter of nerves when speaking with Agatha, but this? This is something else entirely. It’s not just your heart racing; it’s something deep inside you, something primal that you can’t name. You feel hungry, in a way that’s foreign, unrecognizable, and yet you know it’s her. Her presence, the way she watches you, the way her eyes seem to follow your every move.

It’s all too much.

Agatha, on the other hand, remains completely oblivious to the chaos she’s unwittingly caused. Her fingers continue their idle drumming on the desk, her posture relaxed, as though nothing is out of the ordinary. She’s staring at the pile of papers in front of her, her attention seemingly elsewhere.

It should be comforting, the way she remains so calm, so controlled, but it only seems to fuel the fire within you. The longer she remains unaware, the more your body betrays you, the more desperate you become for her. You can’t think straight anymore, can’t focus on anything except the ache between your legs, the burning need that has taken root deep inside you.

Finally, you can’t take it any longer. You stand abruptly, your hands trembling as you push the chair back from the desk. Agatha doesn’t notice, her eyes still focused on her notes, still completely absorbed in whatever she’s reading. The sight of her so composed, so calm, is the final straw. You take a shaky step forward, the distance between you and her now feeling insurmountable, like something invisible but real is keeping you apart.

Your voice cracks when you speak, the words escaping before you can stop them. “Professor, I- I need you.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you freeze. You hadn’t meant to say it. You hadn’t meant for it to sound so desperate, so raw, but the confession is out there now, hanging in the air between you. You swallow hard, your throat dry, as you dare to look up at her.

Agatha blinks, her brow furrowing slightly as she looks at you. For a moment, you wonder if she didn’t hear you properly, if she’s just playing it cool, trying to maintain the authority she always does. But then, slowly, her eyes shift from the papers on the desk to you, and she seems to take in the way you’re standing, how tense you are, how your breathing has changed. She pauses, her lips parting slightly, as though she’s unsure what to make of your admission.

“I-" she begins, her voice soft but still steady. "I’m not sure what you mean. Is something wrong with your project? I thought we were making good progress.”

You shake your head, your chest tightening with each passing second. This isn’t about the project. Not anymore. You can’t seem to form a coherent sentence, your mind clouded by the sensation of wanting her, of needing her. Your body is practically shaking with the intensity of it, your fingers curling into fists at your sides to keep from reaching for her, to keep from pulling her closer.

“No,” you whisper, the word slipping out like a plea. “I need you. I don’t, I don’t know what’s happening, but I can’t- I can’t control it anymore.”

Agatha’s eyes widen slightly, the confusion in her gaze evident, and for a moment, you think she might laugh it off, dismiss it as some odd outburst. But the longer she stares at you, the more she seems to realize that you’re not joking. That this isn’t some fleeting moment of embarrassment or an impulsive comment. This is real. And the realization crashes into her like a wave.

For the briefest of moments, there’s a flicker of something in her expression—something unreadable. Her lips part, but no words come out, as though she’s unsure of how to respond, unsure of whether she should push you away or give in to the pull that seems to be growing between you both.

You take a step closer, the sound of your shoes echoing in the silence. Your body is drawn to her as if it’s not your own anymore, each movement an involuntary reaction to the desire swelling inside you. You’re so close now, so close you can feel the heat radiating from her body, see the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. It feels like there’s an invisible force pulling you both together, and you’re powerless to stop it.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me,” you say, your voice trembling now, the words tumbling out in a rush. “But I can’t think. I can’t think of anything but you.”

Agatha is silent for a long moment, her gaze flickering over your face as if searching for any sign that this might be a trick. But there’s no mistaking it now. She can see it, the desperation in your eyes, the way your body is trembling with the weight of your own need. She can feel it too, the way the air between you has shifted, charged with something neither of you can deny.

And still, she remains quiet, her fingers resting on the desk in front of her, her expression unreadable. For a brief, agonizing moment, you wonder if she will reject you, if she will turn away and pretend this never happened. But then, finally, she speaks.

“I see,” Agatha says, her voice almost too soft to hear, but there’s no mistaking the authority in it. “And what is it that you want from me?”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy, the tension palpable as Agatha stands still, her gaze unwavering. You can feel the heat pooling in your chest and between your legs, crawling up your neck, suffocating you. Every part of your body aches, an unfamiliar hunger gnawing at your insides, growing with each second that passes. You can’t think straight anymore. You can’t stand it.

You swallow hard, your throat dry, and your hands shake as you finally break the silence. “Please, Agatha,” you whisper, voice trembling. “I can’t take it anymore. I need you. It hurts. Please, make it stop.” Your words spill out in a rush, a frantic plea, and you take a step forward, drawn to her as though you have no control over your body. “Please I don’t know what’s happening, but it hurts. I can’t think straight, I don’t know what to do, I don’t.”

You’re rambling now, desperation clear in your voice, your entire being trembling with the weight of your need. You’ve never felt like this before,so lost, so vulnerable, so exposed. You don’t know how much longer you can stand this unbearable pressure, this overwhelming heat, this need for her.

Agatha’s gaze softens slightly, and you see something flicker in her eyes, a flicker of understanding, maybe even something else. But her expression remains controlled, her facade still intact. She was corrupting you and it felt so sweet.

“Sit,” she commands, her voice calm but firm, her fingers tapping lightly on the top of her desk. The sound echoes through the room, and for a brief moment, you think she’s testing you, waiting to see if you’ll obey, if you’ll listen to her.

Without thinking, your body moves before your mind can even catch up. You move quickly, too quickly, as if your limbs are not entirely your own, and you sit on the edge of the desk in front of her chair. The surface is cool beneath you, but it does nothing to quell the burning ache inside.

“I need you,” you say again, your voice barely more than a broken whisper. “It hurts so much, I can’t take it. Please, Agatha, please, I need you to, to make it stop.”

Your words are frantic now, desperate, each one laced with an urgency that makes your breath catch in your throat. You can’t think. You can only feel. Your body is on fire, your pulse pounding in your ears, and all you can do is beg.

Agatha leans back in her chair, her eyes still fixed on you, and for a long moment, she says nothing. Her fingers rest lightly on the arms of her chair, but the way she holds herself now is different, less rigid, less controlled. Her gaze moves slowly over you, and you feel it like a physical touch, every inch of her attention focused on your trembling form. She’s watching how your skirt has rode up your thighs, your dampened underwear on show to her, this is exactly how she wanted you. 

“I don’t think you understand,” she murmurs, her voice low and tender. But there’s no mistaking the edge to her tone, the quiet power behind her words. “You’re asking for something you don’t fully grasp. Something you won’t be able to walk away from.”

“I don’t care,” you say, the words coming out before you can stop them. “I don’t care. I just I need you to touch me. I need to feel something, anything, to stop this burning inside me.”

You’re on the edge of breaking, and it’s almost too much. Every nerve in your body is on fire, and the ache between your legs is unbearable. You need her. You need her so badly that the thought of being without her, of not feeling her, is enough to make you feel dizzy, lightheaded.

Agatha stands suddenly, her movement fluid and deliberate. You barely register it before she’s right in front of you, so close that you can feel the heat radiating from her body. Her fingers graze your knee as she steps closer, and the touch is electric, sending a jolt of sensation straight through you.

Her lips part slightly, and she leans in, her breath warm against your ear. “Tell me what you need,” she says softly, almost coaxing, but there’s an undeniable authority in her voice now, one that sends a shiver down your spine.

You don’t hesitate. You can’t. “I need you to fuck me.” you gasp, the words slipping out as though they were the only thing holding you together. 

There’s a moment of silence, just a beat, a breath, before Agatha’s fingers press lightly against your chin, tilting your head up so that you’re forced to meet her gaze. Her eyes are dark now, and there’s something predatory in them, something that makes your heart race even faster, makes your body ache even more.

Without a word, she leans in, her lips brushing against your forehead, soft at first, gentle, before she pulls back slightly, her eyes still locked on yours. “You’re sure this is what you want?” she asks, her voice low, almost a whisper, but the weight behind the question makes it impossible to ignore.

You nod fervently, your voice barely a whisper, trembling with desperation. “Yes, yes, Agatha. I need this. I need you.”

Agatha’s eyes flicker with something unreadable, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s reconsidering, if she’s going to push you away, make you leave. But then, slowly, her lips curl into the faintest of smiles—something dark, something knowing.

“Good,” she murmurs, her voice almost satisfied. “Then I’ll give you what you need.”

With that, she steps closer, her hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer to her, the closeness nearly overwhelming. She doesn’t speak as she moves, doesn’t need to. There’s no need for words now. Her actions say everything. And you, desperate, trembling with need, can’t help but give in completely.

You reach for her neck, unable to contain yourself anymore, pulling her face closer to yours, trying to connect your lips together in a desperate scramble to feel her on your body. Agatha complied, that same smirk she always wore not once leaving her face as she finally had you sat on her desk, your legs spread round her body, doing anything you could to get her to touch you. 

She doesn’t dare resist your scrambling, instead letting you pull her into a deep kiss, her lips sliding against yours in a messy rhythm, not able to find any relief in how you were feeling. Agatha was anything but gentle with you but you were not complaining, her tongue started to trace your bottom lip and you opened up immediately, letting her explore you with her tongue. You groaned loudly into her mouth, your legs wrapping around her waist, trapping your professor between your legs. She took this opportunity to test your waters, her teeth scraping against your bottom lip before pulling it away from your face, her teeth digging into your skin. When she was met with a muffled moan, it was the prettiest sound Agatha had ever heard and she was thankful for how much rougher you were going to be able to take her now she’d enchanted your emotions and more importantly your body. 

You start to grind your hips up against Agatha’s crotch, you couldn’t work out what was making you feel like this, you’d never acted like this with anyone, and even though you’d imagined it with your professor, you never thought you’d be in this position. The harder you grinded against her, it became more apparent that she was packing something underneath her trousers and the thought of your professor wearing a strap beneath that suit was making you feral.

“You found something you’re looking for?” Agatha teased as you reached your hand to grab the bulge that lay underneath, a moan tumbling from your lips, your legs wrapping around her tighter to feel her cock against you. 

“Do you always wear that?” You ask breathlessly, confused momentarily for why your professor would be wearing a strap to just sit and grade papers in her office. Before you could question it further, Agatha snaked her hand around to touch you through your soaked underwear, hiking your skirt further up your legs and you couldn’t pass out at the feeling. 

“Fuck you’re soaked.” Agatha groaned, the sound of your breathy moans something that she couldn’t ignore, she wanted to devour you, but there was something about leaving you in this state, so whiny and desperate that was particularly appealing, but when she looked at your pleading eyes she realised she couldn’t ever do that to you. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” Agatha cooed as she pushed your underwear to the side, looking in awe at your pussy dripping in arousal. You looked so pure and untouched, everything about how your folds trembled in the anticipation to be touched was drawing Agatha in more than she thought she could be.

“Professor please I need you to fill me up.” You whine, the cold air hitting your arousal making you realise just how worked up you’d become. You must’ve said something right, because Agatha let out a breathy grunt before working her index finger towards your entrance, her other hand coming up to grasp at your throat before she pushed her entire digit inside of you. Your strangled moan was even prettier than Agatha expected and when you pushed your neck further into her grip and started to lift your hips to slide her finger in and out of you, she shook her head in genuine disbelief at how pathetic you looked like this. 

You start whining when Agatha doesn’t match your thrusts, wanting nothing more than for her to start pounding her fingers into you, but instead she just slips another finger inside you with ease, stretching your tight pussy around her fingers instead of thrusting into you. You were squirming up against her touch, your clit burning at how it was being ignored by her. Your doe eyes looking up at her as her grip tightened around your neck. “You’re just too tight, I need to warm you up doll.” You groan at her words, knowing for a fact that you could take her. 

“Professor I can take you, I need to take all of you now.” You say desperately, thighs shaking around her waist. You take it into your own hands, unbuckling Agatha’s belt in a chaotic scramble to see her strap that was waiting to be buried inside of you. Normally Agatha wouldn’t tolerate this desperate behaviour, but considering she was the one that put the spell on you, she let it slide, watching in awe as you undressed her bottom half, waiting for the cock to spring out and when it did your eyes widened. “It’s huge.” You gasp, not expecting the sheer girth and length of the purple cock to take you this much by surprise.

“Yeah and you’re gonna take it.” Agatha grins at the scarlet flush on your cheeks, expecting some level of protest, but instead she is met with your hands scrambling at her hips, trying to push her towards you. Agatha chuckled with a low hum at the familiar eagerness that first drew her to you. She doesn’t waste any more time, spitting down onto her hand before rubbing it up and down her strap a few times before slapping the head against your pussy, drawing out a string of desperate whines, your hips bucking wildly at the feeling. “Keep still princess.” She whispers, holding your thighs down onto the desk as she slightly pushes into you, careful not to hurt you. 

You didn’t care, you needed to feel your Professor's cock deep inside you and when she can feel the tremble of your thighs trying to get yourself further onto her strap, she does it for you. She enters you with one single thrust and your fingernails dig hard into her back as she starts to pound harder into you, her hands now gripping your waist, pulling you harder onto her to meet each movement. 

Agatha could see how swollen your clit had become, it was basically begging to be touched, but she knew if she did so much as swipe her finger across it, you’d come and be way too sensitive to go again. The enchantment usually had that effect, but you weren’t letting this end here. You were way too shy to ever come back to her after you remember how pathetic you were asking, so she was going to drag this out for as long as she could. 

She kept pounding into you, your pretty moans had turned into guttural gasps and grunts as you felt the burning in your clit, wanting nothing but to reach down and touch yourself, but you knew better than that, even with the intense feelings you were having, you weren’t about to mess this up. 

You could feel something building inside of you, you’d never come without clitoral stimulation, it was different, but you were craving some sort of relief. Agatha could feel you trembling beneath her, and before you knew it you were empty again. You felt like crying, but before you had a chance to react, her hands were gripping at your scalp, pulling you off the desk and hitting the ground with a thump. Your knees were aching from the drop, but when Agatha turned to look at you, her strap eye level with you, you couldn’t feel it anymore, the only thing you could focus on was the fire in your core begging to be put out. 

“Come on doll, you know you want to.” Agatha smirks at the way your eyes were gleaming at the strap that was glistening in your arousal. Her hand was gripping around the base, guiding it towards your closed mouth, moving the head against your lips until you gave in and your mouth fell open, your tongue immediately attacking Agatha’s cock. 

You wanted nothing more than for her to grab your head and force her cock down your throat, so you tried to do just that. Taking as much of the length into your mouth as you could and Agatha groaned as if she could feel it, her head tilted back as she grabbed the back of your head, helping you as you desperately tried to take the entire thing down your throat. You started to choke as she thrusted into your mouth, she tried to pull out but you gripped the back of her thighs. You suddenly had an intense desire to have your throat fucked raw, something that you’d never even really been into before, but this felt so different. 

“God you’re such a whore,” Agatha spluttered at how keen you were to please her, “You’d do anything as long as I’m pounding into you.” With each word she thrusted harder into your mouth as you nodded at her assumption, moaning and spluttering around her cock, saliva dripping down your chin. 

This time she pulled out of you, sitting back onto her desk chair leaving you on your knees, your brain fuzzy and your face covered in saliva. “Come sit on my lap, you can do the rest of the work if you’re that desperate.” Agatha said casually and she’d never seen someone scramble to get up so quickly. You were dripping down your thighs, your mascara running down your cheeks and combining with the saliva dripping from your chin. 

Agatha couldn’t help but put her hand on your face as you straddled her lap, lowering yourself down onto her strap. She wiped the saliva from your chin, her eyes not leaving your cunt as you finally took the entire thing and before you could even adjust you started bouncing up and down on it, chasing the orgasm that had been ripped from you. Agatha would’ve usually sat back and watched you struggle, but there was something so endearing about your primal desperation to be fucked that she decided to help you out, thrusting her hips back into you as you moved down against her. 

“Fuck Momm-” You stopped yourself, “Professor sorry that’s what I meant.” That did it, Agatha moaned at your words, picking you up off of her cock and slamming you against the desk, forcefully bending you over and spreading you open before thrusting her cock back into you as you moaned gutterally against the desk. 

“You take Mommy’s cock so well princess.” Agatha growls, spreading you further so she could watch her strap disappear inside of you. She grabbed both of your hands, pinning them behind your back to give her some leverage as she thrusted harder into you than before. You could barely see, the pleasure overwhelming you to the point of no return. 

“Mommy my clit, please I need to cum all over your cock, please let me.” You whine, your words barely forming as each time you spoke your body was being shoved hard into her desk, her ungraded papers getting crumpled beneath you, but neither of you seemed to care. 

Agatha obliged, letting go of your hands, slipping one of hers between your legs to harshly brush circles against your clit, her other hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging on your neck so she could see the faint reflection of your fucked out face in the black screen of her computer. 

It wasn’t going to take much more, Agatha was sure she could feel you clenching around her strap and the moans that were leaving your mouth were scratchy and tired, your throat burning from where she was thrusting into you. 

“Mommy, i-’

“Come now pretty girl or you won’t be coming tonight.” Agatha insisted and like magic, you felt every single muscle stand on the edge, your entire body freezing in pleasure as your head went completely blurry. It was like you were in that space forever, before it all came crashing down, every movement, every touch, built upon the last, your rhythm synchronized, bodies attuned to one another. Your breath hitched, a tremor coursing through her frame as the sensation intensified.

Suddenly, it was as if your body had given in completely to the waves of pleasure, an uncontrollable release coursing through you. A warm surge followed, unexpected and thrilling, but it came washing all over you and Agatha’s desk. You fell against the surface, your body soaked with your own arousal. Your professor scoffed at how you’d just squirted all over your fellow students' papers, finding it nothing but amusing. 

“Feel better?” Agatha asks as you nod hard enough to break your neck, the enchantment beginning to wear off as you felt the embarrassment reach your cheeks. 

“I am so sorry, I’ve ruined all these papers.” You say in genuine panic, lifting yourself up and trying to stack all the papers together before a hand touches your wrist, stilling your hands. 

“The only thing ruined here is you.” Agatha smiles, her hand reaching for your chin, her thumb pressing into your cheek as she tries to get you to calm down a little bit. 

“I didn’t know I could do that.” You laugh nervously, your usual demeanor falling back into place and Agatha smirks at how the familiar shyness build back up into your voice. 

“I have my ways.” Agatha smiles, placing a kiss against your forehead as you tug back at your skirt, trying to stop it from riding up your soaked thighs. 

“What like using enchanted quills on your favourite student?” It was your turn to smirk, watching as Agatha’s smile dropped, her brows furrowed in confusion to how you could even know what she had done. 

“How did you-”

“I think you forget how good of a student I am.” You grin, knowing that you’d done your research on witchcraft heavily for your final project, you basically knew every trick Agatha had up her sleeve, “I knew from the moment I picked it up.” You blush, your eyes dropping, almost ashamed to be admitting that you liked the thought of your professor being so desperate to fuck you that she’d go as far as using centuries old enchantments just to be able to do it. 

Agatha smiled at you, her own cheeks slightly flushed pink at being found out, but delighted in the fact that you let the spell take over you, knowing exactly what you were going to get if you did. “God you’d really do anything wouldn’t you.” You nod in response, both of you smiling widely at each other. 

“I think I need another meeting about my project.”

“Tomorrow, 6pm, I’ll be waiting.”

[natashascumslut]

LOUD. Wanda maximoff x fem reader

SUMMARY: Your need for Wanda suddenly gets stronger, and she finally decides to do something about it.

WARNINGS: Smut 18+! MDNI, Top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader, Thigh riding (R), Strap-on (R), Praise kink, Strap-on referred to as ‘cock’.

a/n- This was originally gonna be longer but i lost interest lmao. Not proofread!

You needed Wanda. it was sudden and intense. It wasn't the first time you'd thought of the witch in... not-so-PG ways. But this was different, it wasn't like when you couldn't sleep, and thoughts of Wanda creeped into your mind. This was need, and it was strong. And you also just so happen to be walking down the street after doing a bit of grocery shopping.

The feeling had hit you like a bus, creeping all over you, leaving goosebumps in its tracks, before settling between your legs. You rushed back, desperate to get rid of it. But, to your luck, the exact woman you were just thinking about was standing in the kitchen of the compound, you cursed under your breath. She turned to greet you, but stopped when she noticed your flushed cheeks and hurried movements.

"Are you okay?" She asked, and you nodded quickly, your eyes not meeting hers. You put things away, trying your hardest to be casual, but your mind was wandering. You felt her eyes on you, burning into your skull, and it wasn't making any of this easier. You put the bag you were carrying the groceries in away and sent a tight-lipped smile in Wanda's direction, before leaving the cramped space; it was an open kitchen, looking over the living space with floor to ceiling windows, but it felt cramped when it was only you and Wanda in there. You rushed up to your room, closing the door behind you and taking a second to breathe.

You stared at your bed, contemplating. It was the middle of day, you couldn't just... get off, someone might call you in for a mission or a meeting, you might be needed, someone might walk in; you reached behind you and locked your door.

A soft thump sounded the otherwise quiet room as your head fell back against the door, the aching between your legs hadn't stopped, in fact it'd somehow gotten stronger. You didn't know what to do, but luckily a knock on the door decided your fate, you were going to be asked to join a meeting, and by the time it was over you would feel okay again—

Wanda was standing on the other side of the door, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

"Hey." She said casually, peeking behind you into your room. "Mind if i come in?" You nodded instinctively, but internally cursed yourself, her being in here would only worsen things. You stepped aside as you tried your hardest to get words out of you. She stepped in and the door was closed, the room suddenly felt cramped. You stared at her back, you should move, do something.

"Your thoughts are loud." Shit. "What?" Finally, words! You couldn't see her face, her back still turned to you, but you could hear the smirk in her voice as she spoke. "I said; your thoughts are loud." She turned around, your heart skipped a beat. Maybe, if it skipped a few more beats, you would die and you wouldn't have to be in this situation anymore. That's what you hoped would happen atleast. She stepped closer, your heartbeat got louder.

Fuck, shit, fuck, fuck, fuck- "Calm down." Her voice was quiet as her hand came in contact with your jaw, holding it in place. "Please stop reading my mind." You pleaded, you didn't like it, not one bit. Your thoughts were yours and yours only, you didn't want her poking about in there. "Please." Her grip on your jaw loosened, and her eyes had softened; she had stopped, thank god.

She stared at you for a second, seemingly deciding her next words. "How about i help you out?" She said quietly, her eyes scanning your face for any signs of.. well, anything. It was hard for her to know what you were feeling when she wasn't in your mind with you. You let yourself nod weakly because frankly, you needed her too much to protest. And even if you didn't, you still wouldn't. You'd been pinning after the witch for months now, caught up in everything her. "I'm gonna need words of confirmation, pretty girl." She whispered, but her tone had changed, it almost matched the amount of need you were feeling in your body, almost.

"Yes, please Wanda." Your voice was weak, pathetic and Wanda relished in it, she had known how you felt for awhile now, since you never made much effort to quiet your mind around her, but hearing it from you made it so much... better.

Her hands found your waist, you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, pounding. "Yeah? You need me to help you out?" She purred in a whisper, this definitely wasn't helping your building arousal. You nodded, your eyes darkening. She spun you around so quickly you were pretty sure you got whiplash, but that was the least of your worries right now, because the witch you so desperately needed was leading you towards your bed. She sat herself down, and pulled your tense figure into her lap, straddling her.

"Mh, you're so tense." She hummed, her hands running up and down your thighs. "I'll make you feel better, darling." lord. Her eyes moved from your lips back up to your eyes. "Would you like that?" You'd never seen her so confident before, most likely because she knew she was in control, she knew you wanted this. But that didn't stop it from being insanely attractive. "Yeah." You breathed out, surprised you even managed to talk. She smirked, her face inching closer to yours. You mentally cursed yourself for being so out of it, god she had such a hold on you.

You finally gained an ounce of consciousness and surged the rest of the way till her soft lips were on yours. Your body relaxed into hers and you're pretty sure you let out a moan, because in a matter of seconds she was gripping your hips and pulling you in impossibly closer, her warm body flush against yours. You weren't sure if it was your heartbeat you were feeling, or hers. "Wanda." You whined as your hips unintentionally rutted forward on her thigh, she pulled back, smirking at you. "So needy." She said, her bottom lip lodged between her teeth. Her hands stayed firmly on your hips as she slowly started guiding you to grind down on her thigh, making you gasp. Even with the layers of fabric between you and her thigh, you still felt it.

Her lips trailed across your jaw till they landed on your neck, pressing firm kisses to the length of it as soft whimpers tumbled out your lips. You felt her suck at the soft skin of your neck, forcing a moan out of you. "No marks." You warned breathlessly, but she made no effort to stop. "Wanda." She groaned, stopping. She'd already made a mark, but you didn't really care if you were honest. Your hips moved faster, with her help. But were immediately halted the second you felt something poking at your clothed cunt. She held back a chuckle as she watched your face turn in confusion, a wide smirk playing at her lips.

"I came prepared." She hummed, clearly happy with herself. You raised an eyebrow, panting slightly. Your breath hitched when her hands wrapped around your upper arms, pulling you flush against her yet again. "If you like riding my thigh so much.." She started in a whisper, her warm breath fanning over your ear. "How about you ride me?" You whimpered at her words alone, a shiver coursing the entire length of your body. "Mhm." Was all you could physically get out, a pathetic hum.

It was funny, really. Every time you thought of the witch, you were in control of the situation. But here you were, rendered useless under her gaze. "Yeah, would you like that?" She said under her breath, the heat of the situation clearly getting to her aswell. You nodded pathetically. "Please, Wanda. Let me ride you." You whined, your hands on her shoulders. Her cheeks dusted a light shade of pink as her eyes darkened, immediately pulling you in for a firm yet passionate kiss, pawing at your shirt as you gasped quietly into her mouth. You helped her pull the thin fabric over your head, blushing as you felt exposed.

It didn't take long for your bra to disappear too, disregarded onto the floor with your shirt. A stuttered moan mixed with your heavy breaths as Wanda latched her lips to your nipple, her teeth tugging at it. Your fingers tangled in her soft hair, holding her in place as your back arched, pushing your chest into her. A satisfied groan vibrated against your body, and a unsatisfied whimper left it when Wanda pulled back, a dazed expression on her face as she grinned smugly up at you. "Please." You said huskily, you needed her inside you now. She gently pushed you off her lap, leaving you to stand up on your wobbly legs. She snickered as she watched you trip over your own feet as you tried to keep your balance, before standing up completely straight, blushing.

"I've barely touched you, baby." She teased, her hands finding your bare waist. You avoided eye contact, panting gently. Her fingered trailed down your waist, till they were at the button of your jeans. You watched with heavy eyes as she undid it, sliding the denim down your legs. You felt it was unfair you were almost completely naked, while she was fully dressed. You pouted, grabbing the collar of her shirt and pulling her into you, before stripping the fabric off her body with her help. You ogled at her covered chest until she forced you to look back up at her. Her lips found yours again, and she was stepping out of her jeans. You whimpered as your eyes came in contact with the strap on firmly harnessed to her hips, she smirked smugly.

You pushed her back on to the bed, and she moved up it till her head was on the pillows. She watched as you stripped of the last piece of clothing covering you, a low groan emitted for her lips. You crawled ontop of her, settling on her thighs, right in front of the strap. You stared at it for a second, before moving your eyes back up to hers. "Come on, baby. Aren't you going to be a good girl and ride me, like i know you want to." She husked as her hands found your hips, using it to her advantage to guide you up till you were hovering above the silicone. You whined, the tips of your fingers pressing into her stomach as you tried to steady yourself. It didn't take long before you were sinking down onto it, a loud whimper of her name following the action.

You had never felt so exposed, completely on display, but you were too focused on the witches strap buried deep inside you to care. "Fuck." The breathless curse made you look up at her, her attention was focused solely on your cunt. "You look so pretty on my cock, baby. Such a pretty slut for me." You whined at her words, your hips grinding down on the toy. Your hands landed on her shoulders as your hips moved back and forth, your head hanging between your arms as you breathed heavily. She grunted as your nails dug into the soft skin of her shoulders, and her hands on your hips made you move faster.

"Fuck, Wanda." You whined as your clit rubbed against her lower stomach, adding to the stimulation the toy was already giving you.

"Such a slut for me, hm?" She growled under her breath, her hand wrapping around your throat made your head move back up, looking her dead in the eye as you whimpered weakly. "Mhm, all yours— Fuck!— all yours." She hummed happily at your answer. Your grinding got faster until you decided it wasn't enough for you. You lifted yourself up till the halfway point of the strap, before falling back down. Wanda groaned.

"Keep doing that, baby. Fuck, you take my cock so well, such a good girl." She husked, making you whine. You did as you were told, your skin hitting hers everytime you slammed back down. "Wanda, Please." You moaned, scratching at her shoulders. She got impatient, seeing you ontop of her like this was making her head feel fuzzy. Her fingers dug into her waist as she started thrusting up into you, copying the movements of your hips. "Fuck!" You moaned loudly, your head falling back as your eyes screwed shut. Your moans started coming out in 'ah, ah, ah.' as she pounded up into you, desperate to make you cum.

"Wanda— please, i'm close." You whined, your eyes focused on her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her mouth open in deep breaths as she stared at the way your cunt was swallowing the strap as she pushed her hips up. "Yeah?" She breathed, not eyes not moving. "Is my slut gonna cum for me, hm? All over my cock?" She said shakily, her own arousal dripping down her thighs. "Mhm, please."

You moans became high pitched and breathy as she focused solely on making you cum. "Beg for it, like the good girl you are." Her eyes finally moved up to your face, and she swore she could've came just from the sight of your pleasured expression. "Please, Wanda. Please let me cum, i'll be good— i'll be your good slut, please i need it." You got out between moans, her hips somehow moving faster. Just as you thought it couldn't get any better, one of her hands loosened its strong grip on your waist and started rubbing circles around your clit. "Cum for me, baby." And you did, and it was intense. Your moans were loud and broken, and your eyes had rolled back so far she could barely see them anymore.

She helped you ride out your high with the thrusts of her hips before stopping completely, setting you back down on her strap. She sat up, wrapping her arms around you as you collapsed into her body. "Fuck." You panted out, your head on her shoulder. You whined in sensitivity as you shifted slightly, feeling the toy that was still buried inside of you move. "You did so good for me baby, so good." You nodded weakly, your eyes closed as you panted against her shoulder.  "I wanna-" You started, out of breath. "I wanna make you feel good."

You whined, lifting your head back up when you finally got your breath back. One of her eyebrows quirked up, a smirk spreading across her lips. "Yeah? You wanna be a good girl and return the favour?" She hummed, so desperate to have you between her legs. You nodded, your eyes heavy. You put your hands on either side of her face and pressed your lips to hers, whining as her tongue slipped past your lips. She helped you off the toy, and you led back on the bed, your breath coming out in heavy pants. You turned to her when you heard her hum happily. "Your mind is a lot quieter." She said, her voice cocky. "Wanda!" You whined, playfully hitting her shoulder. She rolled her eyes with a grin.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: i caved and did an actual Ewan fic! Given that the lad is more of a public persona nowadays, I reckon it's fine (?) This is pure self-indulgence for all my Ewan loves. May have a continuation but idk for now, enjoy!!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader and Ewan are paired for press interviews. Despite barely having any scenes together and only knowing each other in passing on set, the chemistry they share cannot be denied...

Your first round of press takes place in a primped up hotel suite in Paris, thanks to the team at HBO.

You are an up and coming actress, much like some of your costars in the show, but the pressure is heavier on you because you were entering in season two, whereas everyone was already well-acquainted with one another.

Your few scenes were mostly with Jace and Baela, so you grew close to Harry and Bethany.

However, the media team decided to pair you up with Ewan for the day. A little fun initiative was set by the team that a character from the Blacks would be do press with a counterpart from the Greens - hence, yourself and Ewan.

You're nervous as you walk down the hallway, unable to fully pay attention to the instructions your lovely assistant gives you.

She tells you about the different interviewers for the day, bloggers and magazine writers from all over the world. She reminds you that each one will only be for a maximum of 5 minutes, so it shouldn't be too complicated. She smiles and eagerly says, "Take a deep breath, you got this!", as you reach the suite doors.

But in your mind, all you can recall is your first interaction with Ewan, almost a year ago right after the table read. You had nervously blurted out to him that Aemond is your favourite character, after he just asked, "How are you?". He laughed, said thank you, before he was pulled away in conversation by Tom.

You pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that things will fare better today. That you won't get all tongue-tied when those steel blue eyes land on you.

Upon entering the room, the team is quick to fuss over you. Sometimes you forget that you're actually an actress now. A celebrity, some might say. It all feels surreal and you have a inkling it won't ever stop being this way.

Ewan is already seated in front of the camera, and he stands to give you a hug as you finally walk over.

"Hey there, how are you?" he smiles widely, smelling like cigarettes and something muskier as he wraps his arms around you.

Unroll your tongue. Rework your brain. Calm down.

"Hey, Ewan!" you respond. "I'm doing great, happy to see you again."

"Well, I only wish we could have had more time together on set." Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to take your seat before he does the same. "But next season perhaps? Who knows?"

"Oh, sure." You settle in, pleased by the fact that your chairs are only about a foot apart. "We can both look forward to my character giving Aemond the arse kicking he deserves."

He laughs, eyes glinting with mischief. "Come on now, I was thinking our characters are actually quite compatible, no?"

"Well, I sure wouldn't want to step on Alys' shoes. She'd probably curse my character all the way to Yi Ti."

"Hmm," he hums, biting his lip. You can't help but hear Aemond when he does that. "I say you can always count on Aemond and Vhagar to come to the rescue of a beautiful maiden such as yourself."

Well, you'll be damned. Ewan, while still an introvert of his own sort, is as charming as can be. If he's turning it on to get himself hyped for the press, it's working.

It's definitely working on you, to say the least.

The media manager gives the signal for the first interview to begin, and a reporter walks in, all ready with prepared script in hand.

"Here we go," you mutter, facing forward.

"Good luck," Ewan replies.

You both shake the reporter's hand, and he introduces himself as Jared.

"So guys," Jared begins. "Why don't we start with you telling me a little bit about what we can expect from your characters this season?"

The question is easy, and it doesn't take long for you and Ewan to think it through. Jared asks a few more basic questions, before drawing the attention more to you.

"When you watched season one, did you have a favourite character?" he asks you.

You smile, "Oh, I mean, I have to say - and Ewan already knows this, by the way - that Aemond was my favourite character."

"Was?" Ewan says, feigning shock. "Unacceptable."

"Was... Is... " you shrug, rolling your eyes playfully, earning a laugh from Jared. "I think I might be more a Daemon girl now."

"Oh!" Jared exclaims happily. "Does Matt know about this?"

"I'll be sure to tell him - "

Ewan interjects, shaking his head at you, "There's no need to tell him, because I'll convert her back to Team Aemond in no time, trust me."

"Daemon is awesome, though," you say to him, smiling.

"Sure." Ewan makes a face like that fact doesn't matter. Wasn't he the one who said that Daemon would be the character he would most like to play if not Aemond?

"And Caraxes is my favourite dragon." You share a look with Jared, hoping he would agree.

"Yes!" Jared says. "Caraxes is the best dragon in the show, in my opinion."

"Ah, you're both wrong," Ewan says. "My Vhagar is the oldest and baddest dragon in all of the land."

"My Vhagar, he says," you joke. "Seems like someone still hasn't shed Aemond for this press tour."

"And I never will, darling." His gaze is intense when he turns to you, and you clear your throat to fight the warmth rushing to your cheeks.

"Alright, they're giving me the wrap-up," Jared thankfully breaks the tension. "It was a pleasure talking to you guys, congratulations on the new season!"

One interview down, and your nerves have already considerably subsided. Ewan tapping your arm to start up a conversation once more surely helps in distracting you.

In the best damn way possible.

"How do you think we did? That wasn't too bad, was it?"

"I think we did quite well," you casually offer a high five, but your heart skips a beat when Ewan interlaces your suspended hands for just a moment.

"I'm glad they paired me with you," Ewan says, after releasing your hand. You hold on to the armrests to keep your fingers from twitching.

"I am, too," you admit. "I am a fan of you, after all, but I think you already know that."

He blushes, "Well, that's not a bad thing. I think you're a fantastic actress. I must have seen your first film a good ten times."

"You mean my first and only film," you add humbly. "But thank you."

"Only film for now," he affirms. "No doubt this is only the beginning for you, darling. With your talent and your charisma, I'm sure you have potential scripts piled up already."

"I could say the same for you! Have you seen what your fans say about you online? You're the internet's new boyfriend, Ewan Mitchell."

The media manager announces the next interview, but Ewan follows up with a response for you under his breath, "I have seen some things. But when I have a girlfriend, I'll make sure she won't have to share me at all."

Oh, so apparently he is single. But wait - why is he telling you this?

You don't get to mull over that thought. For the time being, the next interview starts and you make sure you do a good job at what you're paid to do - promoting the series.

Not daydreaming about getting with a costar, for heaven's sake. Stay professional.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You feel lightheaded after finishing the seventh - or had it been the eighth? - interview.

Your assistant delivers a coffee to you during the twenty-minute break. Ewan had stepped out to the balcony to have a smoke, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He certainly is everything you expected him to be, and so much more. Insightful, cheeky, dedicated. An artist, through and through. He was in the business for all the right reasons, passion and respect for the craft.

If he had any flaws, you weren't privy to them yet. If there are any reasons for you not to be attracted to him, you didn't know what those were yet.

And with every flirtatious remark and pointed smile, you can't deny the hope blooming in you.

"Hey," he reappears, pulling you out of your musings. "I hope you don't mind that I smell of smoke."

No, you didn't, not when it's him.

"Don't worry about it," you reassure him. You tilt your head forward to take a sip of your coffee, but a lock of your hair falls in front of your face. Annoyed, you think to reach for it, but Ewan beats you to it, tucking it back in place.

"There you go, darling," he croons, gesturing for you to proceed in drinking.

"Th-thanks." His eyes don't leave yours as you take a slow sip.

"So," you say, desperate to break the silence, "which interview did you enjoy the most so far?"

"How can I possibly choose? I mean, I really liked the one with ComicSociety, the guy that said our characters have a lot of chemistry and should get together next season. He's right, I already told you!"

"Ohhh, sure, that will go down really well with the Blacks and Greens."

He smirks, "I don't see why not?"

"For one, Aemond is ensnared by Alys, and my character will never give up fighting for Rhaenyra. I just don't see it happening, Ewan."

"Right," he mutters thoughtfully, "there is still Alys in the picture."

"Still in the picture? With the amount of steamy scenes you two have lined up for season three, I'd say she will be Aemond's entire picture in and of herself."

"Hmm," he glances at you once, then looks down. Dare you think it, does he look disappointed?

"But hey," you add lightly, "maybe we can talk to Ryan and he can flip the entire script just for our characters."

"Yeah," his cheeky smile resurfaces, "maybe you can take Alys' place."

Take the place of Alys? Of Alys. Is he insinuating...

"Next round of interviews, guys!" The media manager announces to the room.

"Here we go again, darling," Ewan squeezes your hand once, before putting on his professional face once more.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

By the end of it all, not even caffeine can perk you up. You were exhausted, you and Ewan having finished four full hours of press.

Your assistant comes to your aid, ready to direct you back to your own hotel room.

"This has been such a pleasure, Ewan, really." You stand, this time initiating the hug.

He squeezes you gently, humming in your ear. When you pull apart, he says, "I honestly wouldn't mind trudging through hours and hours of press with you."

That's sweet of him. You're too tired to mask the warmth that rises to your cheeks. "And I feel the same. Today couldn't have gone any better."

"Truly, and listen, maybe we could - "

"Ewan!" The manager approaches. "I'm so sorry to rush with this, but we need to film just a quick soundbite with you for Aemond. Just two to three questions for the Max Tiktok account?"

"Oh, okay - " Ewan is reluctant to turn away from you.

"Perfect! If you could just stand there by the windows please..." The manager already has him by the arm, directing where he has to go.

"We have to go," your assistant says. "Still have to prep for tomorrow."

"I'll see you soon, Ewan!" you call out to him. "Thanks again."

He gives a half-hearted wave, dejected as he watches you walk out of the room.

"That wasn't too bad," you share with your assistant as you enter the elevators. "Not bad at all, actually."

"Oh, you did so well," she compliments. "It definitely helps with the press that you and Mr. Mitchell have such insane natural chemistry."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

In the calm of your hotel room, you get ready for bed.

Just when you're about to finish with your nightly routine, your phone rings from your bedside table. You're quick to rush over, thinking it could be your assistant or your manager, with an urgent update about work.

But no - it's an unknown number. A UK number, as it appears.

Confused, you click answer anyway, putting it to your ear with a tentative, "Hello, who is this?"

"Hi, darling."

"Ewan?"

"Yeah, uhm, I hope I didn't disturb you - "

"Not at all," your answer comes out in a rushed breath.

"I also hope you don't mind that I got my assistant to ask your assistant to give me your number? It's what I wanted to ask you before you left today."

"Oh." You feel fully awake now, by some miracle, butterflies finding home in your stomach. "I don't mind. I... I should have given you my number, anyway. I have most of the cast's, in case I need to get a hold of you guys."

"Hmm, right," he says from the other end. You hear him calmly breathing, the sound strangely comforting, and wonder if he can hear the same from you.

He says, "I just wanted to keep hearing your voice. Didn't get enough of it today," and your heart just about stops.

"Oh. Okay," is all you are able to respond with.

"What are you doing?"

"Just... just getting ready for bed." Phone pressed to your ear, you shuffle around the room, putting some things back in place.

He says nothing for a few seconds, but you still hear his breathing, and some shuffling in the background. It occurs to you that he might just be as nervous as you are now.

Maybe.

"Listen," he finally says, "do you want to hear my pitch to Ryan about why our characters should get together next season?"

A genuine laugh escapes you. He sure is persistent. Playful, sure, but you're definitely willing to play along.

"Let's hear it."

"First," he says, "you have to renounce Daemon as your favourite character - "

"Not a chance."

" - and swear your love for Aemond."

"Keep dreaming."

He laughs, and you can only picture the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Aww darling," he teases, "don't you love me?"

💌 part two - part three

The OGs will know that the final line is a nod to my first ever Aemond fic! 🖤

Did this slightly delay my series works? Yes, yes it did. Do I regret it? For Ewan frickin Mitchell, I would never ~

[gloomwitchwrites]

The 141 boys and the TikTok trend “everybody knows that I’m a good girl officer”

Firstly, I want to say that in this house, we say "fuck the police (derogatory)" every single day. However, I will indulge in this instance because it's our 141 boys and I think the trend with them would be absolutely smoldering. But I will change it up slightly, and pull from my Bodyguard!141 AU Post as well as lean into a security detail aspect for this one.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, dirty thoughts, flirting, secret relationship

Word Count: 1.5k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

Price adjusts the ear piece in his right ear.

The blasted thing doesn’t fit right. It keeps slipping. It’s irritating but it’s manageable. Not like Price is running anywhere. At least, he doesn’t plan on moving too quickly. His job is to stand and observe. To make look after a certain MP’s daughter, and to take her back to the hotel when she tells you she’s ready to leave.

You are no stranger. Far from it.

And it goes far beyond the grounds of appropriate behavior.

Price has completely stuck his foot in it, bedding you when he isn’t supposed to. Stealing kisses in dark corners, and fucking you behind closed doors. He was hired by your father to look after you, and instead, John has taken it much further than that.

But he doesn’t fucking regret it.

Not at all.

John adjusts his ear piece and scans the room from left to right. You’re not in sight but that doesn’t bother him. This ballroom is packed full of rich schmucks who couldn’t give a shit about him.

He scans the room again, and this time he finds you.

You’re walking toward him, hips moving in a sultry sway that steals John’s resolve. You’re gorgeous. Perfect. And he can’t stop staring.

The corner of your mouth quirks with amusement, and John straightens his shoulders, making himself appear bigger. He needs to look professional. He needs to look like he’s not thinking about all the ways he wants to fuck you.

But it’s hard to focus, and when you approach, you glance over your shoulder at him, words leaving your mouth that John doesn’t entirely catch at first. Your foot pops in the air, and the friend you’re walking with giggles, her hand pressed to her painted lips.

Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.

A good girl.

Yes. You are.

You’re John’s good girl.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

High-stakes missions have always been part of Kyle’s life. It is what he knows. What he thrives on. But between the missions, Kyle keeps working, and not with SAS.

Kyle mostly signs up for security detail at different places around London. Sometimes he might work as a bouncer for a club, or be monitoring people entering a music venue. Sometimes the gigs are swanky, and sometimes they’re not. Kyle doesn’t really mind as long as he’s paid.

That’s the whole point.

He’s saving. Wants to buy a house. Maybe find someone to settle down with. Life is going by fast. He needs some stability amongst all the violence.

And tonight? Tonight, he’s nothing more than a glorified security guard.

He looks the part in all-black tactical gear, and he isn’t the only one. There is an entire group of them all lined up in front of large windows, creating a bit of barrier. The event coordinator expected protests. All there is are a handful of people across the street with signs. They’re harmless.

Kyle doesn’t pay them any mind.

He does watch the regular people walking by on his side of the road. Some people are here for the event and others are just passing through.

Standing on the corner nearby is a small group of young women. They’re all dressed up like they’re heading to the clubs. Kyle pretends he’s not looking, but that would be a lie. There is one he keeps glancing at.

You’re fucking stunning. A beauty.

But Kyle has to remain calm. Aloof. He’s not here for you or anyone except the job at hand.

“Go over there.”

“I can’t!”

“Girl. He is so cute. Do it.”

Kyle casually turns his head, only to find you striding toward him. His throat drops into his stomach, and you waltz past him, pausing just to his right, flipping your hair, and batting your eyelashes at him and then your friends.

“Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

Your friends scream, and then you hurriedly run back to them as if you’ve done something you shouldn’t.

A good girl? Sure you are, love.

Kyle smirks and looks away, doing his best to hide a growing smile.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon sits in the driver seat of a large, black SUV. His fingers are itching for a cigarette. He needs the smoke—to feel the burn. To rid himself of some of this agitation.

It’s not annoyance. It’s not frustration. And it sure as shit isn’t anger.

No. Simon has a fucking rager in his pants, and his thoughts are filled with images of you. You—who he’s supposed to be protecting. Escorting you to and from events, pushing back the crowd, and keeping a firm lock on where you are at all times.

The black dress you’re wearing tonight is made of flimsy material. It clings to every curve and swell. Simon is hungry—a feral animal that couldn’t stop stalking you throughout the event.

Now, he’s about to take you back to your hotel. And he knows you’ll invite him in. He knows that the little black dress you wear will be nothing but a pile on the floor in due time.

But this need in his bones isn’t just Simon’s fault. You were a fucking tease all evening. You were bad. Openly flirting with other men in front of him, drinking more than you should have, and genuinely being a little terror to his sanity. All this behavior will only get you punishment. A punishment he’s happy to deal out once he has you behind a closed door.

A car door clicks, and Simon glances up, expecting to see you slide into the backseat. You’re not there. You’re next to him. In the front passenger seat.

“What the fuck are you doing?” asks Simon, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel.

You shrug and settle in. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply, leaning on the middle armrest.

Simon can smell your perfume. “Buckle up,” he growls, and you do so casually, as if you don’t hear his irritation.

He pulls out into traffic, and the moment the two of you are clear of the building, Simon feels your hand on his thigh moving dangerously close to his dick.

“This bad behavior needs to stop.”

Your body shifts and you sing-song the next words out of your mouth. “Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

The words are bit slurred. You’re completely pissed, and Simon cannot help but laugh. No punishment then. Not tonight at least.

But tomorrow?

Absolutely.

John "Soap" MacTavish

This isn’t Johnny’s usual job, but it’s easy work.

Usually, hired security and local police take care of concerts and sporting events, but the military has been called in for this one, and Johnny is fine with that. Again, it’s easy work, and they’re paying him more for it.

He stands in one spot, scans the crowd, and acts casual while looking downright intimidating. The intimidation isn’t hard. They have him completely decked out in all-black tactical and balaclava included. All you can see of Johnny are his eyes.

It’s fun, actually. When he put it all on, he pretended to be Simon, only to receive a swat upside the head for it from the man himself.

Johnny has his hands casually resting on his bulletproof vest. No one is really looking at him, and those that do quickly look away. But there is one he can’t stop looking at.

You’re so damn cute, and you can’t stop glancing at him either. You’re with friends, and you keep smiling in his direction. If this were any other night, Johnny would approach you, flirt a bit, maybe even ask for your number. Might even take you home with him if you were open to it.

But Johnny is on the job, and he can’t afford to do that.

As you move closer to him through the crowd, one of your friends keeps saying something to you, moving their hands as if urging you to do something. Johnny isn’t sure what, but he’s curious. You don’t look like danger, and there is nothing about your demeanor that says that you’re looking to cause trouble.

Maybe it’s the balaclava. That seems to be a thing now.

As you approach, there is a pop of your foot, a quick flip of your hair, and a stunning smile. Your friend holds up her phone and you turn away from Johnny briefly to say “Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

I bet you fucking are, love.

Your friends giggle with pleasure, and you quickly move away from him but not before you glance over your shoulder one last time, mouthing a silent “thank you.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@arrozyfrijoles23 @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im

[killapunk]

help amal's family get back on their feet and make it safely out of gaza

through constant displacement at the hands of the israeli occupation forces, amal (@amalashuor) alongside her husband and baby daughter, have been forced to use the money they gathered with hopes to evacuate on living necessities, as prices are extremely high in gaza. imagine having to muster up eight hundred dollars for a tent when you've already lost everything, and then have that tent go up in flames.

amal details everything in her post here. i urge you to read and spread it.

she and her family have gone from rafah, to khan younis, to deir al-balah, and are now being told to leave again. where is there to go? they have no way to pay for anything save for our donations, and at this rate, with having to settle down in a new place every few months and needing to provide for their baby girl (baby products are expensive at the best of times, imagine how much they must cost to achieve during an active genocide), they'll just need to keep bleeding money unless we can get them out of there once and for all.

amal currently has 43,208 euro out of a goal of 50,000. if 2k people see this and each give 5 euro, she can meet her goal. if all the people who saw my silly toro osborne post each gave 1 euro, she'd have more than enough. amal has reached out to me personally for help, and now i am reaching out to you, because i know this post will not gain any traction without you. if you can't donate, please reblog. honestly, reblog anyway. tumblr might flag me for this and i have no visibility as it is. amal was sweet enough to worry about my safety when i told her i might take a bit to make this post due to having a fever. my safety, while she's in the middle of the biggest humanitarian crisis of my lifetime.

please help. we can make a difference.

[katsu28]

connection

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: when a holiday gala that neither you nor max want to be at brings two people from vastly different worlds together, you find out that you might have more in common with the four time world champion than you think you do. (3.6k)

warnings: swearing, creepy men (not max don’t worry)

a/n: day three with max :) somewhere along the way this became less of a holiday fic and more of me projecting onto my characters but fuck it we ball! 

You don’t want to be here. 

Truthfully, toting around trays of champagne flutes and painfully tiny hors d'oeuvres to fancy rich people is the last place you want to be on a Saturday night, but your friend had roped you into working this event with her and you need the extra money a holiday event pays, so here you are. 

You’re not even sure what exactly it is either. All you know is that it’s some gala for folks in a totally different tax bracket than you, and you need to be on your best behavior—which, you’ll admit, isn’t your strong suit.

Your loved ones would say your headstrong, take-no-shit personality is one of your admirable qualities, but you know they only say that because they know the real you. 

These people don’t. They don’t need to. All they need from you is whatever you’ve got on the silver platter you’re holding. 

You glide through the crowd like a woman on a mission, turning up the charm to an eleven to get rid of these beef tartare crostinis as fast as you can. 

It’s part of the job description, but apparently some of these old men think you’re throwing yourself at them. The amount of ass patting bordering on groping, and sleazy comments about how you’re young enough to be their daughters you’ve had to endure in the last few hours is astonishing, and not in a good way. 

What you want to do is slam them upside the head with your tray, but you can’t. So you grin and bear it, redirecting their leering as best you can without causing a scene. What a way to start the festive season…not. 

Soon enough you’re out of food and you’re glad for it, because it grants you even just a little reprieve when you return to the kitchen. 

“I swear to god, I’m gonna punch one of those old fucks,” You fume, having just pushed through the adjoining door leading from the ballroom. 

Your friend offers an amused snort from where she’s waiting on a refill of stuffed figs. “Yeah, don’t do that, probably.” 

“They’re disgusting.” 

“They’re entitled.” 

“Okay, so they’re disgusting and entitled. God, the nerve!” 

“Y’know what, maybe you should take your break now? Cool off a little bit before you rip someone's throat out and get us both fired?” She tips her chin towards your hands, and when you look down, your fists are clenched. You’ve got them clenched so tight your nails are starting to dig crescent shaped divots in your palm. Any tighter and you’re sure to draw blood. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s—I’m gonna go,” You mutter. You can’t afford to be dismissed from the event and lose out on the payday. The best thing to do is find somewhere quiet, somewhere you can be alone and settle your temper. 

-------

Max doesn’t want to be here. 

Truthfully, milling around shaking hands and making small talk with these people is the last thing he wants to be doing on a Saturday night, but he has obligations to fulfill, appearances he needs to make to cast Red Bull in an admirable light in this season of giving, so here he is. 

His suit is expensive but itchy, the starched collar of his crisp button up pulled too tight around his neck. What he wants to do is rip it off and go home to his cats, but he can’t.

So he grins and bears it, summoning all his years of PR training to get through the next few hours as best he can. 

“Max, there you are!” His press officer materializes right next to him, clamping a hand down on his arm. He bristles a bit at the sudden touch, but it soon dissipates as he realizes it just means he has yet another hand to shake and conversation to make. “There’s some people you should meet with. They’re from one of our smaller sponsors, but important nonetheless. Think you should have a conversation, find some common ground.” 

“Do I have to?” The question is a moot point, but Max feels the need to ask anyway. Just in case the answer has changed since the last time he asked. When all they do is fix him to the spot with a deadpan look, he sighs. “Yeah, heard. Lead the way.” 

Small talk comes easily to him at this point, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t mind numbingly boring listening to the two middle aged men go on and on about something Max couldn’t care less about. 

To the untrained eye, it would appear that he’s listening intently, feeding into their words with every carefully timed nod of the head. A chuckle here, a smile there. All the while, he’s itching to get away. The itch grows and grows and grows until Max can’t take it anymore.

He has to go somewhere. Anywhere other than here. 

Before he can second guess his gut feeling, he excuses himself quickly and expertly, making his way carefully through the crowd and towards the nearest exit. Another glass of champagne couldn’t hurt, so he snags one off a tray on his way out, sipping on it leisurely as he searches for a place to be alone. 

That’s how he finds himself outside in this open area looking over the water, somewhere completely empty and quiet, save for the slight breeze sending tiny waves splashing against the rocks below. 

Max sheds his jacket, undoes the first few buttons of his pressed shirt so he doesn’t feel like he’s being choked anymore. His chin tips towards the sky, eyes scanning the sky above. 

The moon is out in full swing tonight, hanging big and bright in the sky, illuminating the beautiful architecture around him. Max has always liked the moon. It represents success and fulfillment and power, but also has an element of mystery to it. He thinks that, in a way, the moon is kind of like him. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays here, just knows that he doesn’t want to go back inside. Finds himself dreading it, actually. Knows that inevitably he’ll have to make his return, but he’ll delay it as long as he can before someone comes looking for him.  

The sound of a heavy door creaking open draws his attention a little while later, and it makes him sigh. Looks like his time hiding out here is over. He pushes off the pillar he’s leaning on, ready to spin some half assed excuse, but then he hears it.

“Fuck!” You bite out, letting the door slam behind you. The empty area provides an echo to your dramatics. 

Max peers wide eyed around at the sudden expletive, spotting you across the way. So…definitely not his press officer. You’re already pacing back and forth, hands on your hips as you shake your head. 

He should say something, right? Announce his presence? 

He’s about to, but then you start muttering to yourself, something about old rich men thinking they can do whatever they want just because they have money. Colored by a plethora of choice swear words, you look and sound entirely pissed off. 

Probably best to leave you alone for the time being. He doesn’t know you, but he knows anger, and yours has a fire that almost rivals his. You’re also very pretty, but he pushes that thought aside for the time being. 

For the first time tonight, Max’s interest is piqued. Even so, he feels like he’s encroaching on something too personal, too private for anyone else’s ears. 

Maybe he can sneak away undetected? 

He doesn’t remember the champagne glass he’d set down until his foot hits it, and then it’s too late. Thankfully it doesn’t shatter, but the clinking against the cobblestones as it rolls away gives him up automatically. Your head snaps towards his general vicinity, eyes going wide with fear. 

Max imagines it’s probably scary for you to think you’re alone and realize that you’re not, and he’s not a monster. He has no choice but to step out from the shadows, raising a hand in awkward greeting. “...Hi.” 

“Jesus. Shit. Uh, I didn’t know anyone was out here,” You breathe, already slipping back into that carefully practiced professionality. Embarrassment and a little bit of shame runs through you at the same time as realization blooms of who this man is. Everyone knows Max Verstappen is, and you just cussed out his colleagues big time. Oh, you’re so getting fired. “Sorry you had to see that, Mr. Verstappen.” 

Max waves a hand in the air with a shake of his head. “Please, we don’t have to do that. Call me Max.”

It feels a little wrong to do so, but you oblige. “Right. Well, sorry you had to witness that, Max.” 

“Oh, that was nothing. Plus, god knows I’ve done worse.” Somehow, that doesn’t make you feel any better. Max steps out a little further into the light, stooping down to grab the rolling glass before it gets too far. “Is everything alright? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“Does it look like everything is alright?” You shoot back, throwing your hands up into the air. Then you remember just who the fuck you’re talking to and you freeze. “Sorry! I am so sorry, I—” You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. Max isn’t who you’re mad at. This has nothing to do with him at all. “You didn’t do anything, I shouldn’t be taking my anger out on you. I apologize. Again.” 

Max feels his lips quirk into a smile. He doesn’t remember the last time someone had spoken back at him like that. It’s actually quite refreshing. “No need. Probably very warranted too. I’ve been told I’m quite a good listener, if you need to let things out.” 

“I shouldn’t,” You sigh, pressing your lips together. Max raises a questioning brow. “It would be extremely unprofessional.” 

“You’ve just caught me out here hiding from doing my job. I think we’re past professionalism at this point,” He snorts. He takes a seat on one end of the concrete bench nearest, tipping his head towards the empty space next to him. “The floor is yours.” 

You explain your situation as best you can without getting too heated again, half expecting Max to grow defensive of his acquaintances—they always do. 

It’s a pleasant surprise when he does nothing of the sort. Instead he calls them all assholes, along with some other choice words you won’t dare repeat. He apologizes for them, says he’ll do his best to remedy the situation, but you’re sure all it’ll do is make things worse if he gets involved. 

“So…that’s why I’m out here. What’s your excuse?” You finish, letting your shoulders drop. It feels nice to get all of that off your chest for once, and to someone who actually gives a shit. 

Max sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. It probably makes it stick up at all odd angles, but he can’t bring himself to care. “I don’t really like these things. Talking to people, making small talk—between you and me, it’s the worst part of the job. Not my thing.” 

“You like to do your talking on the track,” You supply. 

Max lets out a sharp exhale, leaning back against his palms to regard you with careful amusement. “You watch?” 

“No, but I think I’d have to be living under a rock not to know a little bit about it. About you.” 

“And…what do you think you know about me?” He tilts his chin up almost in challenge, as if he’s daring you to analyze him. 

Challenge accepted. 

“I think you’re lonely.” 

A surprised laugh escapes from his mouth. He certainly wasn't expecting it, but quite enjoys your forwardness. “Well, that was unexpected. Why do you think that?” 

“You’re untouchable. A four time champion, I’ve heard.” 

“World champion,” Max corrects, but not obnoxiously. It seems like a habit to add that distinction, years and years of hard work and dedication and training for the recognition. 

“World champion, my bad.” You nod. “Congrats on that, by the way.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Like I said, untouchable. You’re the best of the best, and I’d assume even though it’s nice to be regarded as so, it’s hard for you to know when people actually want to know you, or if they just want something from you. Hence…why you’re out here.” 

“Whoa. Didn’t know this was going to turn into a therapy session.” 

“Am I wrong, though?” 

“No. You’re right on the nose, actually.” He shouldn’t be admitting this. He’s supposed to maintain the image that he has going for him, but something about you makes him feel like he can trust you with his true self. 

You’ve drifted closer together without realizing throughout your conversation, shoulders brushing, knees bumping. Max’s pinky moves to brush over yours. You let it happen. 

He’s got really pretty eyes, you notice, steel blue staring right back at you. Piercing the careful facade you have to put up when working these events. Some people are charming, and you’ve learned to keep yourself a closed book to keep yourself safe. But Max feels different. Max’s interest seems genuine. 

It only intrigues you even more. You don’t know him, but you want to. 

Max clears his throat suddenly. “I should go,” He says. 

You wait for him to back away, to put some space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. If anything, he looks like the last thing he wants to do is leave. 

Part of you wants him to stay, but you know he shouldn’t. The same is true for you. He needs to get back to his job, and you need to get back to yours. 

“Me too,” You reply, taking careful notice to keep your tone from sounding too dejected. “Thanks for listening to me rant. I feel a little better now.” 

“I’m glad I could help.” 

You force yourself to climb to your feet, putting that distance between Max and yourself up before you have the urge to do something rash. A flash of your mouth on his zips through your mind for a split second. 

No. You can't do that. 

“Bye, Max. It was nice meeting you.” 

“Yeah. Nice meeting you too.” 

Now is the time for you to leave—one foot in front of the other, away from him, back to reality. 

“Wait!” He calls before you can get far. You turn on your heel like you were expecting him to say something else, waiting for him to reach you. He catches your elbow, squeezing gently. “What are you doing after this is over?” 

“Honestly? I was going to go home and pass out on my couch.” Max’s eyebrows pinch in the middle. “But I could be persuaded otherwise. Why?” 

“Would you want to get a drink? With me.” 

“Not really helping the lonely allegations,” You tease, smiling warmly despite your ribbing. Max rolls his eyes goodnaturedly.  “Yeah, I’d love to grab a drink. But I don’t get off until late, so it might be a while.” 

“I’ll wait.” His answer is immediate. Firm. 

“Okay. Okay, cool,” You say, fighting a smile. “I’ll find you after everything is over.” 

“I’m counting on it.”

The night flies by faster now that you’ve got Max to look forward to by the end of it. By the time you’re freed from the shackles of customer service, you don’t feel as drained as you normally do. You’re strangely excited to get to know him some more. 

You find Max waiting for you just outside the coat check, pretty eyes searching the dwindling gala goers until he spots you approaching. He smiles, nods his head in greeting.

“Hi. Everything alright?” 

“It’ll be better the sooner we get out of here.” 

“Let’s go, then.” 

Instead of a bar, he brings you back to his place. It catches you by surprise when he asks, but he assures you it’s more for privacy purposes than anything else, strictly two new friends sharing a drink and some more conversation. 

You’re not sure what you were expecting for a man of his financial standing, but a massive penthouse overlooking Monte Carlo makes sense. You do your best to tame your reaction, but it really is impressive. 

His living room is probably the size of your whole apartment, and that’s just what you can see right now. A pristine white couch sits in the middle of the room on an even whiter carpet in front of a sleek, top of the line entertainment unit, and there’s some sort of sim racing setup with a fancy chair nestled in the far corner near a wall of floor to ceiling windows. Surrounding the rig are a handful of trophies and racing helmets, each of them polished to perfection. 

Over in the far corner is a huge evergreen tree, decorated with twinkling lights and silver baubles. It looks extremely professional, almost staged, and the more you look at it, the more you’re sure he hadn’t been the one to put it up.

“What do you like to drink? I’ll make you something.” Max’s voice pulls you out of your gawking at his home. Your eyes snap over to him hovering next to a bar cart stocked with liquor, sweeping a hand along the bottles. Twisting your lips to the side in contemplation, you tell him your drink of choice and he smiles. “Nice one. I’m more of a gin and tonic kind of guy, but hey, to each their own.” 

You find your way to one end of the giant sofa not long later, aforementioned gin and tonic in his hand, your drink nestled in yours. “I did you, now you do me.” 

Max nearly chokes on his drink, brows flying high at your bluntness. “Sorry, what?” 

You look unphased. “What do you think you know about me?” 

Oh. Of course that’s what you meant. 

He takes a few beats to ponder your question, eyes squinting in thought. Then he fixes you to the spot with a decisive look. 

“I think you have big dreams. Changing the world, making it a better place—but you haven’t quite figured out how to do it yet,” He says, tilting his head. Your chest tightens at his words, because they’re true. “You’re going in circles, not able to figure out that one thing that’ll break the cycle you’re stuck in. I think once you do figure it out, you’re going to do great things. Big things.” 

Like before, somehow the space between the two of you has dwindled into nearly nothing as he looks at you so intently with those piercing eyes of his. You’re a little surprised by how on the nose he is about you, but it also makes sense. Max seems very observant. Perhaps it comes from being on the lookout all the time. 

“If the racing doesn’t work out, you might want to consider psychology,” You manage to say. 

He chuckles, nose scrunching. “Sure, I’ll think about it. Though I think it’s going pretty well at the moment.” 

-------

“When can I see you again?” He asks a while later, head lolling to face you lazily.

His hand has somehow found its way spread over your knee, nimble fingers tap tap tapping mindlessly. The first few buttons of his shirt have been undone, hair mussed from how often he'd been dragging his fingers through it.

Your drinks have worn off ages ago, but you still feel warm and fuzzy. Though you suspect it’s more from the man you’re with rather than the residual alcohol talking. 

You’ve been getting to know each other as the night goes on, swapping stories about your lives until you feel like you haven’t just met him a few hours ago. His are by far much more entertaining than yours, but Max seems to enjoy the mundane of yours. 

Part of you is surprised by his question. In your mind, you were expecting this to just be a one time thing. An easy way to fill a boring night, never to be thought about again. But Max does want to see you again. You don’t let it phase you. Instead, you raise an amused brow. 

“Why? You planning on kicking me out anytime soon?” You joke. Max’s fingers twitch, and he shakes his head. 

“No, I just—I’d like to see you again, is that so wrong?” 

“Not at all. I’d like that too.” You smile at him. “Though it is getting late, so I should probably head out anyways.” 

Max doesn’t push for you to stay, just nods understandingly. “You’re sure you’re okay to make it home on your own? Let me order you an Uber,” He says, digging his phone out of his pocket. 

“Yes, Max, I’m fine. And I can get my own Uber, thank you very much.” 

“Please, let me. I asked you here, the least I can do is pay for your ride home.” He seems like a very insistent person, so you sigh goodnaturedly, waving a hand for him to go ahead. When he’s done and a car is on its way, he turns to you, propping his chin up in the palm of his hand. “I had a nice time tonight.”

You scoff lightly, raising a brow. “I recall you saying something about how company galas are the worst part of your job.” 

“I dunno, this one wasn’t that bad.” Max shrugs, a fond smile playing at his lips. “I met you, didn’t I?” 

“Best night of your life then, huh?” You tease, winking at him. 

“It’s definitely up there.” 

“Too bad it’s ending soon.” 

“Too bad,” He echoes. He tilts his head, rubs at the smooth fabric of the sofa cushion just so he has something to do with his hand. “Looks like we’ll have to see each other again soon.” 

You have all the time in the world to unravel the mystery that is Max Verstappen, if he’ll let you. And judging by the way his hand inches towards yours until your fingers intertwine while you’re waiting for your Uber to come, he will.

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[spaceyaceface]

You Were The First

Ominis Gaunt x f!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Ominis Gaunt has never known affection. He has never known how it felt to love---to be loved. She came and changed all of it.

Or, Ominis gets love because by god does he deserve it.

Warnings: Mentions/Implications of child abuse

God, I loved writing this. Thank you so much for the request, anon!

When Ominis Gaunt fell in love, he fell slowly. 

It was all the little things she did—the little things that made up who she was. Her kindness. Her patience. Her touch. 

Before meeting her, touch meant nothing but pain. It was kicking and screaming as his mother dragged him along by his arm, harsh shoves from uncaring hands toppling to the ground, a cruel hand curled over his own, taking any control he might have and forcing a curse out of him. 

He’d been avoiding it ever since. Even Sebastian and Anne knew his aversion, careful not to grab him or brush against him. 

But somehow, she made his walls come tumbling down. 

-

Perhaps he started to fall that first time she saved him a seat at breakfast. 

It was one of the first breakfasts of their sixth year—the Great Hall was bustling, students running back and forth to catch up with friends and share adventures from over the summer. That was exactly what Sebastian was doing; he could hear his friend’s loud laugh as he spoke to someone at the Hufflepuff table. He’d expected her to be doing the same, her popularity as the Hero of Hogwarts was unmatched. Surely everyone would want to know what she’d been up to. 

He’d just settled on the idea of grabbing an apple off the table and leaning against the wall well out of harm’s way when a voice called out to him. Her voice. 

“Ominis! Ominis, right here, I’ve saved a seat for you!” 

His mouth fell open—just slightly. “You… you saved a seat…?” 

“Yes, now get over here before Sebastian barrels past and steals it, I wouldn’t put it past him,” she said, smile obvious in her voice. 

And so he obliged. 

He settled down on the bench, all thoughts of retreating to some far corner vanishing as she began to rattle on about her summer. In turn, he answered all her questions about his own time, best he could with the way his head was spinning. Of everyone in the school, she had saved a spot for him. She allowed him to take all her time, steal away every morsel of her attention. There was a lightness that came with that thought. A warm feeling he couldn’t quite name—not yet. 

But now that he’d felt it, he knew he’d starve for it. 

-

The next step into his descent was the first time she placed her hand on his arm. 

Herbology was always a bit chaotic—not nearly as much as Potions, no thanks to a certain Gryffindor—but chaotic nonetheless. Professor Garlick had laid out all the necessary tools and supplies on each table, and after her brief explanation on how to prune and shape the plants in front of them, she set them loose. 

Sebastian stood to Ominis’s right, grabbing some small cutters and starting on his plant quickly. 

“Sebastian, you’re making a mess of it already. She said to start from the top and go down, didn’t you hear a word she just said?” a voice said from his left. 

Ominis chuckled. “Since when has Sebastian ever been one to listen to anything?” He reached forward, grabbing his own cutters. He heard his friend grumble under his breath. “Don’t pout, you know I’m right.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not offended by it,” Sebastian said. 

“You’re offended by everything, Seb,” she said. 

“What is this? Attack Sebastian Sallow Day?” 

“No, but I’d be an avid celebrator if there was such a thing.” 

As Sebastian continued mumbling complaints, he felt it—her hand, just barely resting on his arm. “Sorry,” she said softly, leaning forward and across the table. “I’m just grabbing the fertilizer.” And then her touch was gone. 

It was nothing. Just a simple indication that she was there, making sure a blind man didn’t accidentally stab her with a sharp object. And yet it felt… different, somehow. His skin was tingling as he tried to resume his work with the plant. It was only later he realized that, unlike so many times others had made a similar motion, he hadn’t flinched or pulled away. 

In spite of himself, he sort of wished she would do it again. 

-

He came to a realization the first time she explained a Quidditch match to him. 

The realization was thus—she was even more kind than anyone he’d ever met. It was her very first match, and she had been elated to attend after Professor Black had announced the continuation of the sport at the beginning of the year. Normally, Ominis wouldn’t care too much about it. He rarely went to matches in previous years, only being dragged along by Sebastian when Slytherin was up in the running to take the cup. Crowds weren’t his thing. And trying to understand anything that was going on based solely off the oohing and ahhing of a crowd gave him a headache. But this year, Sebastian was making his debut as Slytherin’s Keeper, and that paired with her excitement to see the match was enough to draw him out to the stands. 

They sat next to each other, nestled into the crowd of Slytherins eagerly anticipating the game. He could only imagine how high up they were—there had been plenty of stairs to indicate it was nothing insignificant. The breeze that high up was cooler, and Ominis was grateful for it, allowing himself to focus on it instead of the people pressing in all around him. 

But when the match started, his focus shifted entirely to the soft voice next to him. 

In the past, he had always found the commentary on the match entirely unhelpful, and even more uninteresting. He could never get a picture of what was going on—the announcer would always press opinions on players and use the names of the different plays, which was ridiculous because Ominis had no clue what any of the plays meant. 

She, on the other hand, explained it all wonderfully. 

She wasn’t perfect—not even close, stumbling over words and gasping at times when an action surprised her. But for the first time, Ominis could follow. He found himself cheering, breath catching as he heard the whoosh of a broom overhead. The tone and expression in her voice was so lively, so dedicated, he wanted to take part in it. 

“Weasley’s flying fast toward the goals,” she commented. “Blimey, he should be Seeker with that speed. Imelda’s flown into his path, he’s going to crash—No, he dodged her, straight over her head—he’s throwing the Quaffle, come on Seb—YES!” 

He let out a cry of celebration as his friend beside him whooped and hollered, cheering loudly for Sebastian. It wasn’t long until they won the match, and the crowd of Slytherins roared like a raging sea. He followed her out of the stands and into the common room, where a party was already commencing. Sebastian managed to break away from his adoring fans. The Hero of Hogwarts leapt up and nearly pushed him over in a wild embrace. Sebastian laughed. 

“You were wonderful out there!” she said, pulling away. 

Ominis could hear the grin in his friend’s voice. “I couldn’t let your first match be a disappointment, now could I?” His feet shifted, turning to Ominis. “And really, Ominis, thank you for coming. I know Quidditch isn’t your favorite.”

“If I’m honest, I rather enjoyed myself,” he said. He nodded his head toward her beside him. “This one has a knack for explaining the game. She told me enough that I can sincerely say, well played.” 

“Then seems like you’ll have to go to all of the matches together,” Sebastian said. 

Ominis frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t want to impose on—”

“No, I like that idea,” she said. His heart beat a bit faster. “I want you to be able to enjoy it just as much as the rest of us, Ominis.” 

He couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night. When Sebastian asked about it, he blamed it on having too much Butterbeer.

-

When he let her lead him by his arm that very first time, he knew he trusted her. 

He’d known for a while—but now, through his actions, he had admitted it to her. To himself. 

Winter had set in. The two of them left the Three Broomsticks, bundled up and ready for the cold. He reached for his wand, pausing when he heard her speak up beside him. 

“Your hand is going to freeze holding it out like that all the way to the castle. I can lead you, if you’d like.” 

He pondered it for a moment—only a moment—and then he gave in. 

“If you think it’ll keep me from getting frostbite.” 

He sucked in a breath as her arm looped around his. How had she done it so gently? After a second, when he’d begun to breathe properly, he nodded. “Off we go, then.” 

It was strange, how he had surrendered so easily. When he had first gotten his wand, the world finally felt livable. He no longer had to shuffle around, arms outstretched, waiting for his brothers to jump out at him. He could fend for himself. Prove his independence. There was no longer a need to rely on anyone. 

Why did he rely so effortlessly on her? 

The truth came to him with a sudden thought as she took him through the streets, navigating expertly through the throng of students returning to the castle. He trusted her. She had always looked out for him. Cared when he felt no one else did. She made efforts to be around him, to involve him, even when he tried to push away. Ominis Gaunt did not trust easily. But she had proved herself worthy of that sentiment in every turn. 

The slight tug of her arm in his jolted him back to that moment. “We’re at the stairs,” she said quietly. “There’s six of them.” 

He’d trust her with his life. 

They seemed to walk closer and closer together as the castle drew nearer. It was the cold, he told himself. Just the instinctual craving for warmth drawing their sides together. Simple as that. 

But they still walked arm in arm through the halls of Hogwarts, leaving the excuse of the chill and snow far behind them. 

-

The first time she held his hand, he finally felt alive. 

Their sixth years had come to a close and the Hogwarts Express was waiting to take them home. They’d spend the last few months in what he considered bliss. They stopped looking for excuses to take each other's arms at some point—just letting it happen. Strolls on the castle ground. Between classes. Anywhere and everywhere they went together. Sebastian teased them a bit at the action, but Ominis claimed it was just easier than using his wand. He didn’t have to concentrate on a spell while walking about. It was true—but really, it hadn’t been inconvenient the five years before that, had it?

But now his dear friend gave a low sigh beside him. “This crowd is awful,” she said, glowering at the students around them. “I don’t know how we’re going to make it on the train in time.” 

“I’m sure we’ll be—” 

He stopped mid sentence, feeling her fingers interlock with his. 

“I think I see a path, come on now.” 

She nearly tipped him over as she pulled him along. He managed to remember how to walk just in time to catch himself, allowing her to lead him through the hustle and bustle around them. How did this feel so entirely different than being led by her arm? How could he only focus on how soft the skin of her knuckles felt under his thumb? How could he feel like he was dreaming, but never felt more aware in the same moment?

They stopped in front of the train, doors open before them. She didn’t let go. Neither did he. But the train let out a whistle, and the sound brought him back in an instant. Their hands dropped, and the loss of the intimate feeling of her fingers between his knocked the air out him like the perfect Depulso. 

“We made it,” she said softly. 

“Barely.” 

She laughed. He might as well have been a fish for how much he was struggling to breathe. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, voice softening. 

“I wish I could say the same,” he said, smirking. He felt her hit his arm, stifling a laugh.

“You’re awful.”

“You’re the one who laughed.” 

“Goodbye, Ominis,” she said, still chuckling. After a moment, she spoke again, a little quieter. “I’ll write you.”

His stomach flipped. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Then she was gone, taking part of him with her.

-

He knew he was in love the moment he got her first letter. 

What was it some fool had once said? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? What a load of dung. 

Absence made the heart ache so much it nearly killed him. And it had only been a day. 

He knew it was from her the moment the lingering scent of her perfume hit him. He smiled. She kept her word—he had never doubted she would. He was just relieved she had done so so soon. 

Quickly, he pulled out his wand and transfigured the words on the parchment, running his fingers over them. He paused where she had written his name. Every letter filled him with warmth as he poured over the short letter. 

Dear Ominis,

I realize we only saw each other yesterday, but I wanted to assure you it wasn’t an empty promise when I said I would write you. 

I really don’t have too much to share—my mother was more than pleased to see me, of course. Wailed when I came home as if I’d come back from the dead. She’s still not used to me being away for so long. I’ve just begun unpacking, and honestly, it just makes me wish I was back at Hogwarts with you and Sebastian. 

How are you? I do hope you’re alright. I worry about you going home, you know. I can’t help it. I’ll be inviting both you and Sebastian to my home as soon as I’m settled in—please do survive until then. 

Yours,

He closed his eyes as he felt her name beneath his fingertips. She was worried about him. She’d be inviting him. The warmth and elation he felt was so unlike the cold halls that surrounded him. He could survive—he’d do it for her. 

How she could make him feel happiness—hope—in a house so tainted with pain was beyond him. He never would he have thought he could have a moment of something good there, a memory worth keeping after he abandoned the place. 

Finally, he had a name for that warmth, the one that overtook him every time she crossed his thoughts. Love. Deep, profound, and lasting. It was more than he could have imagined, overwhelming and pure. How could he have lived to this point without it? 

He read the letter once more before pulling out his quill and beginning to write. 

-

The first time he thought she might feel the same coincided with the first time she laid her head on his shoulder. 

She had kept yet another of her promises. It was only a couple of weeks before he was off to her house, finally free from the suffocating marble halls of the manor. His escape lasted only for ten days, but it gave him what he needed to keep going. 

Though being with her was definitely what fueled him the most. 

Laughing with her and Sebastian made the stress of being around his parents melt off of him much faster than he would have imagined. Their ten days had been full of exploring the woods around her house, of playing Gobstones, of laying in fields and telling old stories. 

Ten days of her hand brushing his as they sat together. Ten days of catching his breath when she spoke. Ten days of falling harder than he ever thought possible.

Because now that he knew what it was he was feeling, it was there in everything she did. He was drowning in it, and he’d stay under with a smile on his face. 

Sebastian bid them farewell on that final evening. Ominis would be gone back home in the morning—he tried desperately to push that thought away, focusing instead on spending every moment with her he could. They’d wandered to the overgrown park not far from her home, coming to rest on a bench hidden away in the trees. Crickets sang around them, and Ominis basked in the cool summer night by her side. 

“Are you going to be ok when you go back?” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. 

He gave a small smile, one he hoped was reassuring. “I’ve lived this long. Two more months will be nothing.”

She sighed. “It won’t be a full two months. I’ll make sure of it. If you can’t come here again, we’ll go to Sebastian’s.”

“You worry about me too much.” 

“I think I worry just enough,” she stated simply. 

Her words made his chest time. How could he ever begin to explain what they meant to him? She cared for him. It was enough to shatter him if he let it. He couldn’t say what he wanted to—not yet. He’d find a way, someday. But he told her what he could by reaching for her hand, locking their fingers together. And when she leaned into his side, head coming to rest on his shoulder, maybe, maybe, that was her way of saying she understood. 

His stiff body slowly relaxed against hers, and he thought about nothing but the slow draws of her breath, the way her hair tickled against his jaw, the love he felt for the angel of the girl sitting pressed against him. 

-

The first time she held him he fell apart. 

Their little trio had stayed up late in celebration of their last school year, playing Exploding Snap well into the night. The Undercroft echoed their joyous sounds as the hours passed by, until Sebastian pulled himself away, saying he wanted to pay a visit to the Restricted Section for old time’s sake. It wasn’t long until she and Ominis were saying their goodnights to each other. 

It had been a perfect last first day, exactly what he’d needed after spending so much time at the manor. He’d left for what he was determined to be the last time. There was no better way to celebrate. 

He could think of no better way of ending it than saying goodnight to the girl he loved. 

“Goodnight,” he said softly, a small smile on his lips. 

“God, I missed you,” she breathed. “Goodnight, Ominis.” 

But before he could open the door, her arms wrapped around his chest. 

The result was immediate. His heart raced, and his throat grew tight. He couldn’t breath—how could he, with her holding him so tightly? Her head was against his chest, and for a split second he was afraid she might pull away when she heard the pound of it. It was that moment of fear that brought his arms around her, holding her to him like he had nothing left. 

It felt like dying when she pulled away from him. She sucked in a breath. “Ominis, are you alright?”

“What… what do you—”

“You’re crying.”

She was right. He felt the tears, now, traitorously running down his face. He quickly brought up the sleeve of his robe to wipe them away. 

“Is it something I did? I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He took a shuddering breath. “I just… You’re the first person who’s ever…” 

Ever what? There were a million ways he could finish that sentence, and all would be true. The first who had ever held me. The first who has ever cared so deeply. The first to touch him with nothing but kindness. She was the first person to break down his walls, to give him life, to let him love and be loved. 

Somehow, she seemed to understand his silence. She took him into her arms once more, and he let himself come crashing down. Sobs worked their way through—both sadness and joy mingled together in an utter mess of emotion. How could he have gone his whole life without this? Without feeling safe, without outstretched arms to run to? But he had found it. A person he could call his home, who would hold him when he fell apart. He was grateful. So grateful. 

They never went back up to their dorms that night.

-

He was determined today would be the first time he kissed her. 

Since that night in the Undercroft, every touch between them felt natural. Part of their beings. He came to her effortlessly, letting his arms pull her to him. His hand felt foreign when it wasn’t in hers. But yet, he had yet to confess the depths of his feelings for her. 

He knew exactly why—she was patient. They’d started this whole thing nearly two years ago now. She’d always gone at his pace, waiting for him to be ready for each new step. They didn’t need to say the words. It was obvious to both of them. But Merlin, he wanted to. 

She needed to know just how much she meant to him. The joy she brought into his life without even trying. It had been a long time coming, but now, he was ready.

He’d taken her out to Hogsmeade. It was the perfect spring day—cool breeze carrying the scent of Butterbeer clear out of the Three Broomsticks. The sun was just beginning to set, and they were on course to return to the castle when he stopped her. 

“Could I take you somewhere?” he said softly. 

“Of course,” she said, a little perplexed. He smiled, taking out his wand to guide the both of them, other hand still in hers. He led them down a path, then turned sharply into the woods. The trail he followed was light barely there, mostly grown over by foliage. But he heard the sound of the creek and knew he was close. 

The trees gave way into a small opening, the melody of water trickling just beyond it. He smiled. 

“It’s lovely,” she said. 

“Good. I hoped it would be.” His wand returned to his pocket, and he took both her hands, facing her. 

It was her turn for her breath to catch. It was only fair after all the times he’d done so because of her. Did he look as lovesick as he felt? 

“You are everything to me, do you know that?” he said softly. His hand reached up, following the curve of her neck up to her jaw, where it came to rest. “Everything.”

“Ominis…” 

The way she breathed his name sent shivers through him. And her breath on his lips—Merlin, how had he waited so long?

“I love you.” 

He didn’t give her a chance to respond—he’d let her say it soon enough. But he needed to prove himself to her, show her just what he meant when he said everything. His lips came crashing down against hers, and at that moment he decided every second not spent kissing her was a second wasted. Like everything about her, she was gentle. She was warm. She was soft. Like everything about her, he couldn’t get enough. He thought he’d give her a chaste kiss, but he was only a man, and a starving one at that. 

He only pulled away when his lungs felt like they would burst, and his chest heaved under her resting hand. 

“I love you,” she said, voice hoarse. “God, I love you.” 

He decided that night would be the second time he kissed her, too. 

After that he lost count.

[lupinsversion]

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐯𝐚 - 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝

• summary: aleksander notices that something different is going on with reader, and his suspicions raise. how will he react when those suspicions are confirmed?

• contains: aleksander morozova x fem reader, mention of pregnancy/symptoms, mention of sickness/throwing up, fluff

• word count: 1.1k

masterlist || requests

Aleksander had started noticing subtle changes in his partner. She was constantly tired, nauseous in the mornings, and had a strange aversion to certain smells. His mind started putting the pieces together, and suspicions began to form. Although he didn't have any concrete evidence yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that she might be pregnant.

He would observe her closely, noting her increasing fatigue and the new patterns in her behavior. Each observation further fed his suspicions, strengthening his belief that she was indeed carrying his child.

Days passed, and he could hardly concentrate on anything else but the thought of her being pregnant. He observed her more closely, noting her mood swings, her growing appetite, and the small changes in her body. The possibility of fatherhood was both exhilarating and terrifying, and the thought consumed his mind.

One day, he found her sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands on her stomach. She was deep in thought, her expression a mixture of fear and wonder. The sight of her, lost in her own thoughts, struck a chord within him. He walked over to her, his heart beating a little faster.

"Are you okay?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He sat down beside her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

She stared off into nothing, and when she started to speak, her voice was quiet and hesitant. “First, my breasts started to hurt. Which was strange, I’ve never felt anything like it before…”

“And then, I couldn’t even stand the smell of my favorite soup. My favorite soup, Aleksander.” She exasperated as if it were a crime.

He nodded, his mind racing. The changes she mentioned were classic signs of pregnancy. The nausea, the aversions to once-favorite foods, even the tenderness in her breasts. It all pointed in one direction.

“I’ve been throwing up the past two days…” She continued once she knew he wasn’t going to speak. “It wasn’t much, but it was still awful. I went to the healers, which was probably foolish because what could they have done for me?”

His stomach churned at the mention of her vomiting. The healers at the Little Palace were knowledgeable, but it was true that without knowing the cause, they could only offer general advice or remedies. "Why didn't you come to me first?" He asked, his voice a mixture of concern and irritation.

Her brows furrowed together, as she shook her head slightly. “What were you meant to do? Massage my breasts? Make my soup smell better? Hold my hair?” She rambled.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her sarcastic comments, the sound of his laughter breaking the tension that had settled over them. "Those are all important tasks, you know," he teased, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

She couldn’t help but playfully roll her eyes. “They may have been nice gestures, yes. But that wouldn’t help me out much, would it?”

"Oh, I don't know," he replied, his smile turning more suggestive. "My hands are very skilled, and I have been known to be quite calming."

She nudged her shoulder into his, a small bit of laughter coming from her as she felt the tension between them lift. This reminded her of why she loved him, how he always made her feel better.

He relished the sound of her laughter, the way her smile lit up her face. He loved the way she responded to his teasing, the way she always softened his hard edges. Leaning into her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

She looked up at him through her lashes as she whispered the words that would change everything. “I’m pregnant, Aleksander.”

The moment the words left her lips, time seemed to freeze. His breath caught in his chest, his eyes widening in disbelief. He had suspected it, but hearing her say it out loud, confirming his suspicions, was a shock he hadn't fully prepared for. Thousands of emotions swirled within him, each one fighting for dominance. Shock, joy, fear, and uncertainty all vied for attention, leaving him speechless.

His thoughts raced as he tried to process her revelation. A child. A life, one they had created together, was growing inside of her. It was a prospect both thrilling and terrifying. He took a moment to regain his composure, his arm still around her shoulders, his hand gently stroking her hair.

"Are you sure?" He finally managed to ask, his voice rough with the weight of her confession. He needed to know for certain, needed to hear her confirm it again.

“I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t certain.”

His heart hammered in his chest at her words, the confirmation settling heavily in his mind. A thousand thoughts and fears flooded through him, but he fought to keep his emotions in check. He exhaled slowly, his eyes studying her face, searching for any sign of uncertainty.

She knew why he was looking at her as if he were studying her very soul. “I’m certain.” She repeated.

His eyes locked onto hers, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. He believed her, trusted her completely. If she said she was certain, he had no reason to doubt her. The realization that she was carrying his child, their child, settled within him, a mix of awe and trepidation. His hand moved to gently rest upon her stomach, his palm flat against her abdomen.

"A child," he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Our child."

The words slipped from his lips like a reverent prayer, filled with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. He had never imagined himself as a father, never thought he would want to become one. And yet, now that the possibility was before him, he felt an unexpected tenderness in his heart.

“Our child.” She repeated, her hand covering his, a small smile tugging her lips upwards.

The touch of her hand on his, the sight of her smile, sent a new wave of emotions coursing through him. He had never allowed himself to dream of a family, always believing his path was one of solitude. But here she was, carrying their child, and the possibility of a future he had never dared to imagine seemed within reach.

He gently intertwined his fingers with hers, a silent acknowledgement of what was now undeniably real.

As they sat together on the edge of the bed, their hands intertwined and their minds wrapped around the news of her pregnancy, a mixture of emotions coursed through Aleksander. Excitement, anticipation, fear, wonder - it was all there, swirling around in this moment they shared. He looked down at their hands, his fingers gently tracing the back of hers.

"Our child," he repeated once more, the words tasting sweet on his tongue. He smiled then, a genuine smile of happiness. "We're going to be parents."

© lupinsversion 2024

[fanzou]

I know a lot of ppl write zoro vs sanji competing for the reader but what about zoro and nami both wanting the same girl. Just an idea, you don't have to do this request! Your writings great💕

The Girl is Mine

✗ Pairing(s): Sanji x Fem!Reader, Nami x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: You try resolving a conflict between your two very good friends, only to find out you’re the sole reason they’re having issues in the first place.

✗ Total WC: 4.1K

✗ CW: SMUT. Tipsy, slightly drunk sex, threesome, p on p sex, p in v sex, voyeurism (Nami), Sanji is a perv (a secret to no one) [Let me know if I missed any]

✗ A/N: Hi anon. I hope you don’t mind but, I did Sanji instead :3, only cuz I feel like the tension would be so much better. Might have to do Zoro soon though! I enjoyed this so so much. Thank you !!!

“S’cuse me Sanji, can I please talk to you for a minute?” Nami walks towards him in a confident stride, she settles her hand on her hip.

He looks at her with a warm smile, “You can always talk to me, love. What’s on your mind?” He puts down whatever he has in his hand, as to not given Nami any divided attention.

She chuckles, almost with underlying malice, “You know, I can see that you’re getting an awful lot closer to…” she takes her harsh stare off of him, and softly looks over to you, focused on your own little activity and completely oblivious to the situation unravelling.

Sanji is starting to pick up on what this about. "Oh yeah, we've definitely gotten close." he crosses his arms.

“I just wanted to let you know that she’s mine.”

He lets a sharp exhale of his breath out as an attempt to laugh.

“No no, she’s mine.”

-

It goes without saying that Sanji and Nami have been acting very weirdly toward each other these days.

Sanji, ever the sweetheart who would quite literally drop everything for Nami is now giving her the coldest of shoulders. You’d ask him and he would just wave you off, “It’s nothing, beautiful. Everything’s just fine.” But his eyes betray him; he’s glaring at Nami across the room who reciprocates his same stare.

You ask Nami the same, she gives you a very loving look that you don’t question, “Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.” As she tucks your hair behind your ear with her delicate and soft hand. The gesture makes you blush a bit, but you don't let it get you sidetracked from the initial rising issue at hand; What happened between the two?

Everyone’s just as confused as the other, to tell the truth. It’s not news for Nami to act a little harshly towards him or anyone for that matter, but Sanji's new coldness was a different story. Sanji treated you three girls on this ship like you all were walking Goddesses and if you asked him, he would probably say that that was exactly what you all were.

It was out of character, and almost unsettling to everyone, even to Zoro, who would do anything but concern himself in the shitty cooks stupid troubles. His words exactly, when you tried talking to him about it.

Still he’ll make meals normally, set the plate down like he always would in front of her. Really the only new thing was the lack of word exchange, and you almost feel bad watching it unravel. What happened that was that bad? The thought made your heart ache.

-

Your turn for night watch was up, and you could finally go back to sleep, you weren’t so sure that you could though, with the tension amongst the ship giving you a foreign anxiety you didn’t think possible. You try shoving it in the back of your mind for now, for your hard work for the day was over, and you could finally rest up.

Robin took over and you kindly thanked her before making your way to your shared room for three.

The night air was chilly and even walking through the corridor to find your room made your body shudder, you quickened your pace and immediately twisted the handle to the door and there she was; Orange hair and body lost in the sheets, sleeping so soundly.

You and Nami shared a bed, it wasn’t weird. Practically everyone shared everything on the Sunny. Hell, sometimes you'd even bathe together with her or even Robin to perserve some hot water. Sharing a bed helped you sleep better due to an excessive amount of nightmares you had, and you insisted that since Robin was older than the two of you she deserved to get her own bed out of the sheer respect you had for her. So it worked out for everyone. Especially for Nami, who always needed you nice and close anytime you’d join her in slumber.

And when you decided to remove most of your clothing and tried your best to move as slow as possible as to not get her up, she wakes inevitably, pulls you impossibly close as she puts her leg around yours. “Missed you.” She says.

“You saw me not too long ago.” You giggle in response. But you tighten your hold on her, and you two fall asleep not soon after.

When morning came, you swore the most delectable smell came from the kitchen, it smelled so good that you almost felt like you'd fly following the string of air attached to it. You try peeling Nami off of you to see what Sanji made that you had the privilege of tasting today, but like always, she awoke with you.

“Morning Nami.” You say with your back turned to her trying to get your clothes back on. “Hey.” She says, stretching her arms out to help wake her up a little bit. “You wanna come eat?” You ask finally getting up, but her demeanor drops at the mention of food. It seems that way anytime you try mentioning anything that had to do with him, and your disappointed expression makes a return once again.

You sigh, and decide to give an attempt to talk to her about it once again,

“Nami, I don’t know what he did to make you so upset but you know you can talk to me, right?” You walk over to the bed again and put your hand on her shoulder as a means to comfort her into the thought. Immediately picking up on your insinuation, “You worry too much. Nothings wrong, okay?” She takes the hand on her shoulder in her own and caresses it slowly.

You let out another sigh, but you guess you had to deal with it for another day.

Soon after you and Nami join the table together, you engage in conversation with the rest of the group while waiting for today’s starting meal that’s making all of your stomachs scream. But you feel unsettled, Nami and Sanji are yet again, still uncomfortable with each other. It’s making you zone out thinking about it. It’s making you think a lot more than you want to.

You feel her hand snake onto your lap, she sees the worry in your face. You turn to meet her eyes at the intimacy of her hand and you instantly feel so much better.

For a second, she’s a little too close to your inner region and you can’t deny the goose bumps that litter the skin of your lower body.

What caught you by complete surprise was the sudden movement of Sanji’s body between both of yours, setting out plates for the both of you.

“Alright ladies, you enjoy now.” He puts a hand onto your back and starts to move it in circles, completely neglecting the woman beside him in his presence. “Let me know if you want anymore, beautiful. I’ll always have enough for you.” He winks. And your face is dusted with an obvious red.

When you look at Nami, she's already picking off her plate a little too harshly.

You really do want to ask her if she was doing okay, you really do. You felt terribly about it. About being incapable of relieving her and Sanji from whatever stresses they had going on, but thankfully Franky’s conversation pulls you back into reality and you can forget about the awkward exchange for now.

You just hold her hand under the table for now.

-

The night wind is howling and the Sunny’s grass feels too comfortable to move away from, tonight you guys drink to your accomplishments as the crew goes another night without conflicts. You’re sprawled out on top of the grass, counting stars one by one with a bottle of wine in your left hand.

Zoro’s already plastered and he’s making it everyone’s problem, especially his blonde nemesis who he keeps taunting right now. Sanji just wants a way out so he can make his way towards you before a certain someone does. He’s relieved to see that she’s making an effort to chat it up with Robin in her already tipsy state. So he ignores Zoro harshly and without any guilt and makes his way towards you.

When he plagues your vision and you can no longer admire the beautiful stars, but instead his face, you feel equally satisfied.

“Feelin’ good down there, princess?” He’s looking at you with a cigarette in his mouth.

“‘Can’t even begin to explain it.”

Alas, all good things came to an end, you didn’t want to converse with your friend while you were about to doze off. So you sit up straight and cross your legs, urging him to sit next to you by patting the patch of grass. “How’s your night going?”

He tucks the cigarette between his fingers and lets out a huff, “Better, now that I’m here with you.” You giggle at that.

He really never fails to make you blush, especially now that you’re the slightest bit under the influence, wine bottle aside you as proof.

But inevitably, like you have been cockblocking him about this for the last few days, you ask him about Nami and, how you’re here for both of them and, how you don’t want anything to happen to either of them. It makes him draw a really strong pull from his cigarette, “Dear, there’s nothing wrong.” He looks away.

But you’re starting to get fed up with it at this point. Same answer from both of them, it’s tiresome. “Sanji, if you’re not gonna be honest with me you can walk away.” You say sharply, he can’t deny how the firmness in your voice didn’t turn him on a tad. Normally he would take you more seriously but because of his own excessive drinking, he really wants nothing more than for you to get more and more assertive with him.

He sighs, throwing the cigarette bud overboard. “You wanna talk about it in private?” He says, and you’re eager to pull him somewhere where he can spill his guts, finally. He guides you to the guy’s quarters, where he’s sure no one would be given that everyone was out on the deck either drunk out their mind or making fun of whoever was drunk out of their mind.

And when Nami no longer senses your presence, along with Sanji’s paired absence, she’s immediately on high alert. Out of their entire ongoing discourse, this was something she was immediately worried about. She excuses herself from conversation and tries to make it seem like she wasn’t about to explode from anxiety.

When she herself is out of sight from the crew, she immediately goes running through any room where it was a possibility she could try disrupting the two of you. When she finally reaches the men’s quarters, she finds you and Sanji in the middle of the room, yet to make yourselves comfortable enough to even start saying or doing anything.

“Nami? You okay?” You immediately leave Sanji’s side, removing his hand that he had on your hip. The sight alone made Nami’s breath pick up a little bit.

“Y-Yeah…” She fixes herself, and straightens up, “‘Just a little tired, m’not feeling too well. Can we go to sleep?”

You look back at Sanji with eyes that say sorry, and he shakes his head as a means to tell you that it was no issue for him at all. Only it was. It was his biggest issue. This entire thing with Nami. He didn’t want to be mad at her. He loved her. But he wanted you all for himself.

While you both walk away, she looks bad with a sadistic grin painted on her face. He balls his fist up and grinds his teeth together all before lighting up another cigarette.

Meanwhile, Nami has her hands on your hip as you make your walk back to your own quarters. And you don’t know it under the dark lighting of the room, but she’s ecstatic.

When you make it to your room, the dim lighting does well to emphasize your drunken state, you can't explain it. You feel woozy enough for some good sleep, and Nami and you undress in front of each other in preparation for what you've been waiting all day for, complete relaxation.

You break the silence, “Nami.” She replies with a simple hum to the call of her name, “You feel fine. You just wanted me to get away from Sanji, didn’t you? So he couldn't tell me anything?” Your shirt is off now, and you’re left in your bra and shorts, something she’ll never get tired of seeing. She not so subtly ogles your form, but she can thank the darkness of the room for not giving her away.

She sighs. Try as she might you were a sharp woman, “I’m sorry. I’m just mad at him right now. And I’m not ready for either him or me to talk about it.” She tries to dance around the true subject of why they were playing this game, you. You’re both sat up on your shared bed now, and she has a pitiful expression that you were to blame for, and you immediately feel the guilt in your stomach.

“Hey… I’m sorry Nam’, I didn’t mean to pressure you guys. I'm sorry for being so nosy.” You caress her thigh as an attempt at comfort, and her head slowly comes up to meet your gaze. Your beautiful, pure, gaze.

You could say the same for Nami, even in such a darkened environment her hair effortlessly shined and her face naturally glowed.

It might have been the alcohol in your system, or there must’ve have been an invisible magnet between you two, because the way you naturally gravitated towards her felt unreal, and she does nothing to fight it, neither do you—with a hand to your jaw and her eyes slowly closing, your lips meet. Her skin was so delicate, and it felt like second nature the way they moved against each other. The sound of your lips smacking against one another’s turned you on a bit, Reality settled in, you guys were making out—full blown making out. And it was hot.

It didn’t take much for it to escalate, and you to moan into her mouth, and her kisses go from your mouth to your neck, and then the fat of your breasts. And it all felt euphoric.

“N-Nami…” You moaned, “Robin c-could… mh, walk in.”

You both might've been a little tipsy, but it didn't take a genius to know that the predicament you both were in was far from innocent, and that whoever chose to mindlessly open the door would walk into something dirty.

“She won’t. She’s too preoccupied with Franky.”

Her hand does its own thing while she brings her mouth back to yours, a part of you has this small hunch, like this was intentional. Like she meant for it to happen, the way she came between you and Sanji, and the mention of Robin's absence being but a small conflict in your scandalous act--it sounded calculated, but it was a thought that came and went, you shove it aside to focus on the pure bliss you felt with her tongue now trying to fight yours for dominance.

Your mouths detach once again, this time with a string of saliva connecting between the two of you, and she moans at the sight. God, if you could hear that again. She's pushing you onto her pillow, and trying to remove your shorts. Nami always slept with a shirt on, no bra and panties, as did you. She takes a moment to scan the art-piece in front of her, your nipples were barely peaking through your lace bra, with your panties soaked solely from your make-out session. You were red from the alcohol, and the previous tongue fucking.

She takes her shirt off. And so, it's your turn to admire her beautiful body. You've undressed in front of each other so many times, but this was different. This made you so much more hot, so excited to finally get her body on yours.

Nami get's up out of her comfortable position and takes off her underwear, just as she then does for you and your bra. She takes no time in putting your leg over hers and you immediately feel the friction, the wetness colliding against each other. it's only when she starts to move on top of you is when you shake a little bit with excitement. You whimper and she moves a little faster. The sounds of your cunts making their move on the other is insanely lewd, coupled with your clit being grazed over and over again, your eyes roll back in your head.

It wasn't only your clit's being touched up against each other, but your chests as well. The feeling of your nipples lightly touching on the others was inexplicable. The feeling of pleasure exceeded the need to speak, because you both understood how the other felt. And you just wanted to bask in how good you both fucked each other.

You desperately chase Nami's mouth once again, and she's quick to lower herself for you. Again, your tongues do a dance for dominance.

It doesn't take long for you to both reach the raging desire to orgasm. Your pussies were grinding in the right spots and your conjoined moans were becoming eager, both reaching for the little knot to unravel.

It doesn't take long for that to happen, Nami cums first with you shortly after.

Her forehead is resting on yours while you both catch your breaths, she gives you a quick kiss on the lips, you finally speak, "How're you... so good at that?" She giggles at your obviously fucked-out state.

"'Dunno, you just bring something out of me." You breathlessly laugh at the comment, and you give her a kiss on the cheek before you gently remove her figure and onto your side of the bed.

She goes quiet for a minute, you're covering yourself with your blanket just to re-collect yourself again until you can stomach to get up.

"Sanji."

Nami calls out to the man who obivously wasn't in the room, "You can come inside if you want." She says, and you freeze up. Sanji?

With that, the door cracks open to reveal the man who had been spying on the both of you from the entrace to the girl's quarters this entire time. You're shocked, is the least you can say, and when you see the bulge in his pants that definitely wasn't there when you were with him not even an hour ago, you're even more shocked. You do the best you can to cover yourself in your shared blanket, but Nami just lays on her stomach completely bare to him rocking the most smug grin he's ever seen.

"She's officially mine now, so you can stop trying."

Sanji sighs and looks down to the floor in what looks like defeat, he wants to pull yet another cigarette out and just smoke it.

Inevitably, she was somewhat right. This was the deal they both made to compensate for the tense conflicts that rose between them.

You're a little sobered up, and you start piecing together what they were saying, mine? Stop trying? With the seemingly insane resentment they've harbored up for each other in the past week or two, you've finally cracked it. This was about you. It was only ever you. From the silent treatment they gave each other to the constant and excessive tenderness they both showed you, it explained everything you tried so desperately to talk out of them.

And honestly, you didn't know if you were angry or turned on. Maybe both.

"New deal," He says, and Nami gets up as a means to defy whatever dumb proposition he wanted to start again. "who can fuck her better."

With a shake of her head, "Uh-Uh! I got her first so she's mine!"

He laughs and his confidence is back up, "What? Scared you gonna lose her if she get's a taste of how good I feel?"

Its Nami's turn to put her head down, she looks at you, who can only stare at the cook's very apparent bulge in his pants and he's not blind to it "You want me to make you feel good, princess?" He takes off his coat.

Nami orders him to lock the doors.

He does what she asks of him, then immediately makes his way to you both afterwards.

He's quick on your lips, putting his gloved over your chin and he quickly makes it passionate in doing so. The mix of cigarettes and alcohol on his tongue isn't overpowering, if anything it turns you on even more.

Right beside you is Nami, who once held so much resentment for the blonde, is now slowly getting turned on by him making his move on her one and only.

The blanket that once covered you is now undressing you itself, coming down to reveal your breasts, much to his satisfaction.

Sanji wastes no time in pushing you down and inviting himself onto you bed. He looks at Nami, expecting her to be angry at the sight, but he's surprised to see her, massaging and pinching her breasts at the very sight in front of her. He looks back at you, "'Gonna make you feel good, okay? Yeah?" You nod.

He knows you're wet enough for him, but he fingers you anyway. He fingers your cunt enough to where your whimpering his name for more and to add another, but instead his mimics Nami in pinching your nipple and fondling your breast to add to your pleasure in a multitude of ways. Nami almost subconsciously moves her unoccupied hand to her pussy and starts playing with it at the sight of both of you.

Once he's done enough to ready you, in a swift motion he's taking off his belt, then he lowers his pants to his knees, then his underwear, and next thing you know he's lining himself up. You're grabbing on the pillow underneath you to brace for it. He put's it inside of you and with a satisfied moan, you look at Nami, who's looking at you, and you clench around him.

You look back to Sanji who's too happy about your warm pussy around him to notice the intimate moment you and Nami just shared, and he's already making his first thrust back in and out of you. His cock was long and thick, and you could feel every inch as it went inside.

The scene itself was so dirty. Both you and Nami naked with Sanji's pants pulled down inside of you while Nami shamelessly played with her cunt and tits to the sight. "Tell me how good it feels baby. Tell us." He says, with his thrusts becoming all the more brutal, balls colliding with your ass.

"It feels amazing Sanji. You both make me feel amazing." Followed by a whimper at the sound of skin slapping, you feel a second orgasm approaching you. He signals Nami to come over to his side, and to your surprise they start to kiss while his thrusts become a little more sensual, but he's hitting exact right angle now, and you feel like you're on cloud nine.

The sight before you, his mouth on hers while she chases her own pleasure in her fingers, gives him his own idea of snaking his hand on your clit and doing the same. By this point, holding off your orgasm was impossible. And you cum so hard you almost see stars in your vision. With the sound of your moans, Nami follows suit, and third, Sanji pulls out of you as his own finally approaches and rubs himself on your slit to get his liquids out and onto your body.

Everyones a mess, Nami and you lie down aside from each other again, only this time is Sanji laying on top of you. You bring your hands to his hair and play with the strands.

"I made her cum faster." she says.

"You kidding? Did you hear how loud she was when she was with me?" he says.

All you do is groan. Yeah, this was gonna be a long night.

[sapphosclosefriend]

- Money, Power, Glory pt 1 -

Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader

Genre: suggestive

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, successful and rich CEO, books an urgent meeting with someone who she might be able to finally destress with. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, BIG age gap (N=56, R=24), suggestive themes.

A/N: this story contains mature topics so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Just as an introduction hehe don't worry, their first time is in the next one, I won't leave it out! Thanks sooo much to @rt--link and @supercorpdanbeau for being the kindest and both helping me out ❤️ As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

You still remember clearly the day you received the call from your agent. You honestly thought it was a cruel joke of hers at first, but the serious, yet excited, tone in her voice easily reassured you of the realness of the situation. The fact that she was calling you in the first place, and not quickly messaging you, was clear proof of just how important and urgent the matter was. Not only were you requested for that same night, meaning that the trusted woman deemed the new customer as important enough to ditch the advance days you usually demanded, but the house you needed to get to was of no regular person.

You were a high end escort, pleasing la creme de la creme only, well, at least in terms of monetary assets. You, and the agency you worked with, were known for your discretion, professionalism and skills, an overall level of competence that simply tended to attract clients of a certain status. And that's how you met her, the Natasha Romanoff herself, CEO of a multi-billion company she had created from the ground up in her decades-long career. But why was she so important? She would've been the richest one of your clients, it was as simple as that. Pretty much every single one of them were at the head of, if not close to, big and different companies, all with the highest power of the twenty-first century in their hands, money. You had actually thought about dipping your toes in the world of politics once, which was not so surprisingly filled with countless requests interested in your realm of expertise, but thanks to long consideration and much advice, you had decided to avoid its risks, settling on who you knew, after all, had what you wanted, filthy rich assholes. And gosh, wasn't she the richest one of them all.

Aside from her status, the thought of such a woman, so idolized she seemed unattainable, who could and probably had everything in the world, asking for your company, intrigued you immensely. That day, during every single hour you had spent to thoroughly take care of your appearance just for her, anticipation completely took over you. You knew she was beautiful and you genuinely thought she was fucking hot, which wasn't necessarily to be taken for granted in your line of work, but what you found yourself needing to know, and consequently making your interest in her grow even more, was how she was going to be in private. Was she going to be just like one of those countless naggingly cocky know-it-all's who thought of themselves as some sex gods, and gods in general, but really couldn't even figure out if you had cum yet? You found yourself almost wanting her to be different than everybody else, because deep down you felt like, even if she was the most annoying, full of herself bitch ever, you would’ve gladly tried to satisfy every single one of her needs and taken anything from her with a smile on your face. Ok, maybe scrolling for an hour through the internet looking up information about her and consequently ending up lost through any picture of her you could find wasn’t the best idea, but what could you say, you had a bit of a sweet spot for powerful women.

What you gathered from your innocent stalking session, though, was mainly about her countless successes in life but also concerning some gossip regarding her not so successful marriage life. It didn’t bother you, barely anything about your clients did at that point, but it only intrigued you more about why she wanted someone like you. She could’ve had anybody, she was a walking goddess with her pockets more than full and ladies most definitely falling at her feet left and right, yet there she was, in her car, getting back home after one of the longest and most tiring weeks of the past few months to wait for a girl she’d only seen a couple pictures of to take her mind off of everything. Her driver immediately knew not to even greet her by her frustrated sigh and the pinching of the bridge of her own nose as soon as she got in the car and immediately took off to her desired destination, making Natasha thank any and all gods for the nice relief after such displays of incompetence she had to endure from basically her whole staff. She was right at her limit and all the pent up anger and irritation from the week was finally starting to crack her composed facade at the prospect of the imminent weekend slowly reaching her. She didn’t even want to have dinner, she just needed to be at home, everyone out of her goddamn house and a pussy to unload some stress into. If she had to be honest, in that specific moment, she even missed her disastrous married life and the perk of having a wife always waiting for her at home, ready to meet her needs at the end of the day.

She, unfortunately, never felt the symptoms of "true love" with any of her ex wives, but the thought of how badly it had gone wrong with all of them still pained her a little every time her mind drifted to that phase of her life. During her successful yet busy life she'd been through her fair share of failed marriages, all with beautiful women she'd deeply cared for, but all eventually focused on one thing only, her absence. The first thing she'd always made sure to make very, very clear was just how little time she had to dedicate to anything outside of her company, which unfortunately included her personal life. Her best guess was that the haziness coming from a brand new love must've made it hard to get a grasp on her words…every single time, apparently.

It didn't matter anymore, though, because what she had to focus on now seemed to be much more important than any matter ever had. The quick, warm shower she had just enough time to take as soon as she got home was thankfully able to wash away the surface level anger that was starting to make her temple throb, preventing her from being a rude prick for the rest of the night. She was aware, after all, of the favor you were doing to her by working the night without any notice and all she wanted to do was be respectful for your kind availability. Being her perfectionist self, and deep down maybe even wanting you to like her, she knew she had to focus on not losing her mind on minor things like her outfit, so she decided to try to at least appear to be careless about her appearance and only focus the last bits of mental strength she had on the more relaxing, pleasurable parts of the night. Of course she still couldn't help but fix her hair just a little and change her sweatshirt for a still casual but more put together beige, cashmere sweater. She'd had it for years and, despite its condition not being the best, she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, it just reminded her too much of- nevermind. A few small holes and pulled threads on her top would certainly be the last thought on your mind anyway.

She didn't even realize she was starting to zone out while still looking at herself in the mirror, when the sudden, distant ring of the front door slightly startled her, effectively making her get herself back together. What was minutes away from happening truly dawned on her as she descended the stairs to the first floor and, for a brief moment, as she walked through the entrance corridor and saw the blurry outline of your figure through the frosted glass of the tall door, time seemed to slow down and for the first time in years she felt a small twinge of anxiety creeping up on her the closer she got to you. She was really doing it, she was really about to follow the advice of her idiot Stark friend and didn't mind it too much. Maybe she was really getting old, maybe age was starting to actually play some tricks on her, because, as her hand pushed the cold handle of the entrance door and started to pull it open, the snippets of hair she could start to see of you lit a confident fire in her that only burned more vividly as your form was finally fully displayed to her, making it impossible for her to suppress the excitement she suddenly felt at the sight of you in person, looking at her through your lashes with subtle faux innocence she could see right through.

"Good evening, Ms Romanoff"

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Part 2

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Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox

[emsdevs]

Hi ☺️ I've never written like this on any blog before, but recently a thought crossed my mind about Nico and when I saw your post I thought of writing you. What if the reader is studying sports medicine and needs to study for an exam? She would have known Nico Hischier for some time thanks to her father who is a former NHL player and Nico would have helped her with her studies. She has a big crush on him. And She was just learning about muscle injuries and Nico wanted to give her a visual demonstration of his muscles, so he took off his shirt so that Angie can clearly show places where injuries can occur 🤭? If it's stupid, forget it 🙈 But it seemed like an interesting idea for a short blurb, I think. And sorry for my English, it is not my native language 😅 Have a nice day 🩷

Anatomy Lesson

a/n: I'm so sorry for the delay love. I hope you like it!! I don't know much about sports medicine or human anatomy, so a little bit of credit goes to @heartsforjh for telling me about different muscles and where they can be found!! 🩵

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Nico Hischier Masterlist

You had been knee-deep in anatomy flashcards all evening, and it didn’t seem like it would end any time soon. You had just started looking at the different kinds of muscle injuries for an upcoming exam when you heard a knock at your door. You stood from your couch and made your way to your door, looking through the peephole to find Nico Hischier. Your father introduced the two of you at a Devils event a few years ago, and you have been close friends ever since. You slowly opened the door, confused as to what might have brought him here unannounced, and that’s when Nico smiled brightly and held up the take-out he’d brought.

“You mentioned that you’d been studying most of the day, so I thought you might need a pick-me-up,” he gave you a soft smile before coming in.

“I really appreciate that, Nico,” you return his smile. You lead him into your living room, where you then take a break to eat with Nico. Once the take-out is gone and you’re both full, you settle back in studying, Nico watching with a curious gaze beside you. It doesn’t take him long to pipe up.

“What exactly are you studying? I mean I know it’s like bones and stuff, but what are you struggling with right now?” 

“Right now, I’m looking at the different types of muscles, where they’re located, and how they can be injured, specifically sprained.”

“Oh, wow. That’s… a lot,” Nico grimaces.

“I just can’t quite figure out the abdominal muscles and the ones in that general area. Like I’m almost struggling to picture where exactly they’re located.”

“Oh, well here you go,” Nico stood straight up, slipping his shirt off and tossing it onto the couch beside where you’re sitting. “Now you have a good visual.”

Your mouth runs dry, and you’re not sure when you’ll be able to speak again. Usually, you can keep your crush on the hockey player on the down low, but right now, you’re not sure that’s possible. Just as quickly as your mouth went dry, it started watering, and you had to fight to keep yourself from noticeably drooling. He’s attractive all the time, but with his toned body on display about two feet in front of you, you’ve never been more attracted to him than right now.

“Ummm, yeah. Thanks, Neeks,” you squeak out. Nico pretends not to notice how flustered you are. He had put together a few weeks ago that you returned his feelings, so he’s been trying to subtly step up his game, hoping you would realize he feels the same as you. Being a live model was definitely not in his plan when he showed up today, but he’s thinking this might work out in his favor. “Of course! Feel free to touch too. It might be helpful to feel exactly where the muscle is. You know?”

“Yeah… yep,” your face is bright red. You’re sure of it. 

Before you knew it, you had been naming muscles and pointing them out on Nico’s body for about an hour. You were holding your breath at this point, not used to being this close to him.

“Okay, so obviously these are the pectoralis major muscles,” your hands hover over his pecs, “so this would be the external intercostal muscles.” You move your hands downwards just a few inches, right over where the muscles would be, but something in the air changes when you take a moment to look up at Nico. Your eyes locked, and your hands shifted forward just slightly, now fully lying on his lower chest. You can feel your breathing quicken, and you see Nico’s eyes dart down to your lips. A second later, his lips are on yours, and the moment your brain catches up to what’s happening you’re returning the kiss feverishly. 

His hands move to your waist before one of them slides to your lower back, pulling you as close to him as possible. As much as you love the feel of his firm chest under your hands, you need something to ground you, so you slide them both up his body, leaving one on the back of his neck while the other moves to his hair. You grab his hair lightly, trying to keep him close, but it only causes him to groan into your mouth, pushing into the kiss a little harder. In retaliation, he bites your bottom lip before he pulls away, both of you needing to catch your breath.

The two of you stand there for a moment, not sure what to do now that the line of friendship has been crossed. You watch as a smile slowly breaks out on Nico’s face, and there’s a matching one on yours not long after. You both laugh under your breath, and you hide your face in Nico’s shoulder, hoping he won’t see how red you are.

“How was that for an anatomy lesson?” he giggles like a schoolboy, giving you those perfect doe eyes of his.

taglist: @heartsforjh @fofiquierellorar @justxpaulina @devilinpradaheels @coldheartedmar @juxmi @puckmedude @alexxavicry @dancerbailey3 @ccomandercody

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[rookamell]

Just Sweet Enough

Pairing: Lucanis x f!Rook

Summary: Rewrite of the relationship lock in scene

Notes: I need them to kiss here and I need it to be sweet and this happened. Bioware please hire me to write a dlc for u I'll do it for free I swear. Spite dialogue in italics.

"Emmrich, I need your help."

Emmrich looked up from the tome he'd been reading. A fascinating history on Arlathan that Bellara had thought he might enjoy.

"Lucanis," he said jovially, glad to see the man was feeling better, looking slightly more rested.

"Rook told me about your little fade expedition," he said. "Is there something amiss?"

He'd ached to go and ask Lucanis and Spite about exactly what had been going on with them, but Rook had told him not to. Told him to let them get some rest, so he'd settled for grilling her about it instead, until she'd been all but falling asleep on his shoulder.

He did think sometimes she indulged him a bit too much.

"No," Lucanis said, pulling Emmrich back to the present, "I think we've... reached an agreement. Somehow."

We have. A deal. Spite sounded different. Not happy, persay, but... Emmrich struggled to think of a word for it.

Determined?

The younger man's hand went to the back of his neck.

"With Rook's help, no doubt," Emmrich said. "Remarkable young woman."

"She is," Lucanis said, and Emmrich did not miss the way his voice softened when he did.

"That is... actually what I wanted to talk to you about," he said. He gestured at the couch next to Emmrich.

"Of course, my dear boy, sit!" He scooted over slightly. It was his favourite place to sit, beneath the astrolabe in the library. Oh, he could spend hours on that couch, provided Manfred brought him enough tea.

"Is something the matter with Rook?" He asked.

"No," Lucanis said quickly. "No, nothing is the matter, not that she has told me. I just... want to..." he trailed off, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

Faintly, Emmrich could hear Spite talking.

Thoughts are too loud when he thinks of her. Feel. Too much. Honey and lightning and home. He's stupid.

"I want to do something for her," he said finally, quietly.

"And I'm sorry to ask you, but Davrin would talk to me in hunting metaphors as if they are even remotely the same thing, Bellara would start talking about something else entirely, and Neve wouldn't know about any of this if it stabbed her in the neck."

Emmrich supressed a grimace. An accurate summary of their travelling companions, if a tad unsympathetic.

"She is- she deserves- " he sighed, he ran a hand across his face in defeat.

"Well, then," Emmrich said, taking pity on him, putting a hand on Lucanis's shoulder. "I'm sure she'd be delighted. If it came from you."

"But that is the problem," he said, almost panicked. "I am an assassin, Emmrich. All I know is death. What could I ever possibly do for her?"

He looked down at his hands, open now in his lap.

"How could I ever thank her for... " he closed his eyes, blew a long breath out of his nose.

Emmrich thought about it for a moment. Oh, there was no question that young Rook was infatuated with him, and he with her. No question at all. But how could they prove it to each other? To themselves?

"Hmmm," he hummed as he thought, and then an idea came to him.

"Surely," he said, his brows raising innocently, "You can think of one other thing you might be good at?"

Lucanis looked at him, lost. Emmrich almost laughed at him.

Good at making. To eat! Slice things! BURN THINGS! HA!

"I think Spite has the right of it, there," he said with a grin. "Sort of."

"Cooking?" Lucanis asked. "You think I should cook her something?"

"I think our Rook has a lot of worries," he said. "I think that she would appreciate someone taking the time to think of her, and do something special. Romance, or whatever you would like to call it, Lucanis, is about the small details."

"I know that," Lucanis replied. "But cooking? I cook every day. Almost every day."

"Do you make something with her in mind? Something to bring her some comfort? It's no small thing, making a meal for someone."

Lucanis sat for a moment, frowning at the floor in front of him, then his expression lifted.

"Emmrich," he said, grinning, "I think you might be right. I'll see you at dinner."

We go to Burn Things! For Rook!

He stood and walked to the door, then turned with his hand on the handle.

"You wouldn't... happen to know a dessert that pairs well with coffee, would you?"

***

Lucanis was just adding the last sprinkle of chopped hazelnuts to the torte when the door opened.

"Rook!" He said, his voice pitched too high. He cleared his throat.

Oh, mierda. He should have put someone outside the door to keep her away. Spite should have told him she was coming. Damned demon.

"Lucanis?" She said uncertainly, frowning at him. She walked toward the kitchen, and he tried to stand in front of the stove so she wouldn't see what he was making.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"I was... hungry?" she said, one eyebrow lifting.

"I wanted to see if someone had started on dinner already. What are we having?"

She peered over his shoulder, and he could see her expression change as she beheld the pot, smelled the contents and connected the two things. He'd realised when he'd started cooking that he'd never made anything special for her before. It was always other people asking him for things. Katchapouri for Neve, spiced rices for Taash, turnips for Harding.

She never asked for anything, not even her mother's rabbit stew. It was Orlesian, she'd said, and the library had helpfully provided him a recipe.

A part of him felt ashamed, because it was such a small thing, the simplest thing he'd cooked since getting here, but he'd been so busy thinking about Illario, and Caterina, and Minrathous that he hadn't thought about what it might mean to her to have something from home.

A different part, a bigger part, the part that her presence in his life had woken up, that part was determined to make it up to her, no matter what.

"Wait..." she said slowly, her eyebrows lifting in surprise, "Is that...?"

"You said it was your favourite," he said, and he couldn't help that his voice became soft as he said it.

"In a passing comment weeks ago," she said, shaking her head. His heart broke when she looked at him, because there was disbelief on her face, as if he wouldn't remember everything she'd ever said to him. As if he'd dare forget any little thing that added up to who she was.

"You remembered?" She asked, her dimples appearing as she smiled. Her voice was so small and fragile that he almost couldn't bear it.

"Of course," he said, trying for a grin. "And a hazelnut torte for dessert. It pairs well with the coffee you like."

"You- " she stopped, shook her head. "You made all of this for me?"

"There is enough for everyone," he said, trying for levity. Immediately, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. She wilted slightly.

Wrong, wrong, wrong! It made her smaller!

Of course he felt like saying something now, Lucanis thought, annoyed. More at himself.

"Well," she said, and he heard how she tried to hide how much it meant to her, crossing her arms in front of her chest like a shield. Mierda, he didn't want her to hide anything from him, ever again.

"As long as they're fine with having my favourite meal."

"They won't complain."

She was quiet for a moment, frowning at the stove.

"You didn't have to do anything special for me," she finally said, quietly.

You are. Making it. WORSE. Make it. BETTER.

"Yes, I did," he said quickly, and she looked back at him. Maker's blood, he was listening to a demon tell him how to talk to her. He wasn't used to this, to holding something as fragile as her heart. "I still don't know how to apologize for... everything."

And there was so much to apologize for. To thank her for.

"And you- "

"You made Orlesian stew, and dessert," she said, cutting him off because she knew, of course she knew he didn't know how he wanted to finish that sentence. She gave him a grin that punched straight through his chest. Mierda, she was still trying to make him feel better.

"Just for me."

"It's nothing," he said, earnestly. Just then, Emmrich's idea felt decidedly laclustre. He felt decidedly laclustre.

"Or, not enough."

"It is."

Her smile was soft. Soft enough that he almost believed it when she said,

"And you are."

And you are.

Then her grin turned more crooked, her eyes sparking with mischief.

"And I'm perhaps too easily bribed by sweets."

"I'll... keep that in mind," he said, smiling back. He realised he could stare at her forever, if she let him. He also realised he'd been doing it too long, and quickly cleared his throat.

"Thank you, Rook," he managed after a moment. "I suppose that is what I wish to say."

"Oh," she waved a hand dismissively, her grin turning decidedly crooked. "What are friends for, if not to break you out of your mind... fade... prison... thing?"

He looked at her, and those weeks of trying to pretend that he felt nothing, that it was just Spite, that he wasn't good enough, that an assassin should not get attached, worried that her kindness and trust was something to be wary of, piles and piles of excuses, all went through his head. Weeks of being so worried about Illario and Caterina that he'd missed the fact he'd never made her dinner before.

For once, he agreed with Spite. Because he was an idiot.

She changed everything. And perhaps the world might end, and he might have to kill his cousin, but just then, looking into her eyes, he wasn't scared anymore. Not of this.

"Friends?" He asked softly.

She blinked. Then frowned at him.

"What else- "

Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.

"You mean- ?"

Then her expression melted, and his heart broke, because before she turned away from him, he could see her write this off as something she didn't deserve, as one more thing that could go wrong. As if there was anything she could do that would change what he felt for her. As if she wasn't the best thing he'd ever been given a chance to know.

"You don't have to- "

Whatever she was going to say was cut off, because he kissed her.

Despite his fears and excuses and dissmissal of his feelings for her, since that first coffee at Cafe Pietra he'd pictured this moment so many times it had almost become rote. He'd pictured it happening in Treviso, at Cafe Pietra. On the beach in Rivain, beneath the stars, or in Arlathan, with drops of rain falling off the leaves they were sheltering beneath. In his dreams, there'd been lightning, and fire and ice and butterflies after he'd said exactly the right things, done exactly the right things, charmed her the way Illario would charm someone, and given her a first kiss worthy of a romance book.

This was not that.

It was a peck, and he hadn't even thought about it, and she was looking at him like he'd grown two heads.

"I want to," he said, breathless. Maker, he wondered if a proper kiss would kill him.

Hesitantly, he cupped her cheek with his hand. To his relief, she didn't pull away.

"You know my mind better than anyone," he said. From this close, he could count the little brown specks floating in the grey of her wonderful eyes. "I've wanted to. But I was... scared. And an idiot."

Her hand came up and closed around his wrist, like she was trying to find something to hold on to.

Or trying to keep him from leaving.

"What changed?" She asked, and if he didn't know any better, he'd say she looked scared.

"You," he said simply. "You change everything."

Rook opens locks.

She smiled hesitantly, and the only thing he could compare it to was the first breath of fresh air he'd taken outside of the Ossuary.

It wasn't in Treviso, beneath the lantern light, or on the beach beneath the stars. He hadn't said the right things, not the way he wanted to, but she'd understood. And when she leaned forward, her soft lips were warm against his own. Warm, and unsure, and sweet.

Not what he'd dreamed. Better. Because this was real.

He wondered where he should put his hands. He wanted to pull her closer, or perhaps run his fingers through her hair, or maybe he should keep a hand on her cheek...?

"What is it?" She asked quietly, pulling away slightly, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

"I don't know where to put my hands," he said, stupidly. But then she laughed softly, and suddenly it seemed nothing else in the world truly mattered.

She took his hands and put them around her waist, and her own arms closed around his neck, pulling him close again.

"I think this is good," she said, and Maker help him, he could smell the lightning on her hair she was so close.

"So?" He asked her, allowing a satisfied grin to steal across his features, "How would you describe the taste?"

She looked up at the ceiling, considering.

"Just sweet enough," she touched her nose to his, then frowned, as if in thought.

"With a hint of hazelnut."

He laughed, breathless.

"You're blushing," she breathed when he stopped, grinning, her eyes filled with wonder, a finger gently tracing along his cheekbone.

"I'm happy," he said, realising he meant it for the first time in a very long time as his hands splayed across her back. "You make me happy."

He kissed the grin off her face, deciding that was a better use of both their breaths than talking.

"Oh!"

Lucanis almost pulled out a knife when Rook pulled away, startled by the noise.

Neither of them had heard footsteps, and he realised belatedly that the door was still open from her earlier entrance. Sloppy, dangerous, but just then he'd never felt further removed from Caterina's strict lessons on discipline.

"Bellara!" Rook said, staring at the elf, who was staring at them. Lucanis watched as a blush spread across her cheeks, and couldn't help but feel a strange pride at it's appearance.

"We were just- " she looked to him for help.

"Finishing dinner," he said, aware he was still smiling, aware he still had his arms wrapped around her, aware he didn't care, not in the slightest.

"Oh, that's ok!" Bellara said, striving for casual and not achieving it in the slightest.

"I'm... gonna go. And come back later!" She said, "And definitely not tell Neve!"

She was gone before either of them could say another word, the door closing behind her, leaving them alone together in the firelight.

Rook turned back to him, her head dropping onto his shoulder as she laughed tiredly.

"Who's blushing now?" He asked her softly.

She lifted her head and levelled a playfull scowl at him.

"Shouldn't you be cooking?"

He grinned, pulling her closer to him.

"In a second," he murmured, before he kissed her again, and somehow, every time, it seemed to get better.

[bountydroid]

Darlin' pt 4

pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3 / pt 5

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (Slowburn romance)

Description: Reader realizes her growing feelings for her traveling companion in Filly.

Notes: Okay, so I am SO proud of this part. Please let me know what you guys think. 

TW: Kinda angsty at the end.

"Find somethin' to do," Cooper says as he makes himself comfortable on a chair, watching the store across from him carefully. 

I huffed and crossed my arms before looking around. "A new shirt would be nice." I thought to myself as I looked down at my mud-covered clothing.

"You got any extra caps?" I asked, leaning up against the side of his chair.

"No." He responds shortly. 

I hummed in response. Just as I started to walk away I felt him grab my wrist, "Don't get into any trouble darlin'." He said, smirking, "Wouldn't want a repeat of last time. You'll scare away my target." 

Embarrassment crept up into my cheeks, "I'll be good." I mumbled. I was not sure If I was telling that to myself or him. Probably both to be honest, but it seemed to satisfy him as he let go of my arm. The last thing I wanted to do was mess up this job for him. He was finally warming up to me, and the idea of ruining that ate at the back of my mind.

Filly was an interesting town. It was packed to the brim with fiends and travelers alike. I couldn't help the nervousness that settled in my stomach as I got farther and farther away from my newfound companion. I felt safe with him, safer than I have ever felt in my life. Most people would think that strange. Safe with a ghoul? I thought back to the man who called me a freak for being with the ghoul as I blushed. He thought we were together. A couple. Butterflies found their way into my stomach as I thought about the possibility. Romance was something that I never thought I would experience beyond the tattered books my brother got me from a wandering trader.

"Stop being stupid, Y/n. He doesn't want you." I thought to myself.

Without any caps, I decided to find a place to sit and lay low. I was determined to stay out of trouble, so I found a nice tree to sit up against while I watched all the people go by. I found watching all the different kinds of people walk through extremely interesting. All different types of hair colors, hairstyles, clothing, and weapons. Not to mention odd couples, siblings, and partners. All the new experiences were overwhelming. I found myself sitting there watching for longer than expected. After I had my fill, I got up from the tree and started heading back to Cooper. 

"Right where I left you," I said to myself as his sitting form became clear. He had his hat covering most of his face, I assumed it was to avoid detection. The last town made it very clear that ghouls were not welcome.

As I made my over to him I saw his head tilt and his eyes peer up at me from under his hat. I smiled at him, "No trouble here."

He snorted in response as his eyes flickered over to the men wrestling each other across the way. "You might be the only one darlin'."

I leaned up against his chair again, letting some weight off of my feet. "My feet are-" I start to say before a person caught my eye. Her unique outfit and soft hair made her stand out from the rest of the crowd. 

"A vaultie," Cooper responds, anticipating my question before it even forms.

"Those are real?" I gasp before leaning forward, wanting to get closer to her. 

"Yeah, they are real." Cooper sighed as his hand shot back up to my arm. "Don't talk to her."

I frown but I keep quiet as I continue to watch her. He then kicked my foot gently to draw my attention back to him. "I mean it, darlin'."

"Fine," I say sighing as she disappears into the shop across the way. I felt sadness creep into my stomach as his hand dropped down to his lap and went back to fiddling with an empty Jet bottle. The butterflies from earlier returned as I thought about his touch. I bit my lip as I stared up at the sky.

"What has gotten into me?" I thought to myself.

We stayed there in silence for some time before a man and a dog came into town, making his way to the same shop the vaultie was in. I recognized him from the drawing. It was the bounty. I shifted in anticipation as he started making conversation with the vaultie at the front door.

"So now what?" I whispered, excitement laced in my voice. 

"Now... you find somewhere to hide," Cooper said back. "And you don't come out till' I say so, got it?"

I frowned, confused. "Hide?" 

"They ain't gonna let me just take him, darlin'." He responded, shifting in his seat as he readied for action.

The implication was clear. There was going to be another shootout. Not only was I unarmed, but I was unfamiliar with weapons altogether. Hiding was definitely the best course of action for me. 

"Right," I said as I looked around before making my way behind one of the buildings.

Once I was finally out of view I heard Cooper's familiar voice, "Whilzig!" He shouted.

I peeked around the corner to see him walking up to the bounty. At this point, they were too far away for me to hear. I could tell that the people of the town now saw him for what he was as all eyes were on him, a ghoul. "That is a lot of people." I thought to myself. I was starting to worry.

"Now last night a bounty came in through all six agencies!" He shouted again. 

I whipped back around and pressed myself to the building taking deep breaths as I tried to tamp down the panic in my chest. Once the first gunshot rang out I could hear the townspeople scrambling. "Maybe no one will give him any trouble?" I thought to myself. I was being naive again, but I didn't care.

"I got a thousand bottle caps for whoever kills that fucker!" I heard a woman scream out. "But you don't get shit if I kill him first."

"Shit," I whispered. I took one last deep breath before I peeked back around the building. I watched as Cooper moved in a circle, taking count of all the men lining up to fight for those caps. Our eyes met for a moment. While my eyes were filled with fear, his eyes were filled with confidence. He gave me a small smirk before continuing to circle around, waiting for someone to be brave enough to take a shot. 

Once the shots started, all hell broke loose. I could hear wood breaking and bodies being thrown. Some of the ammunition even made its way through the buildings and out the other side. 

In defense, I curled up in a ball on the ground. I was so worried about him that I didn't even realize that I could be shot too.

When there was a brief pause in gunfire, I fought the temptation to look out again. "Don't come out till I say so." His words echoed in my head.

As the shots started up again, I felt something pierce my arm. I fought the urge to shout in pain as tears started to run down my face. One of the men's shots went through the building and into my arm. I look down to see a nail and some wood splinters sticking out of me. 

"Fuck." I whimpered as I cradled the wound trying to take deep breaths.

As I did my best to steady my breathing I heard a robotic voice say, "She said stand down ghoul."

I look around the corner to see a knight making his way towards Cooper, "Knight Titus of the Brotherhood of Steel. Stand down, or be cut down."

I couldn't hear Cooper's response, but I saw a look of disbelief and amusement on his face. 

"Just do what he says, please," I whisper to myself. "Cooper." Just as I finish saying his name he lifts his gun at the girl and the knight makes a run towards her, jumping in front of her to take the bullet. 

I squeeze my teary eyes together as I turn back around. If Cooper was going to be killed by this knight. I didn't want to see it. 

Gunshots rang out again, this time it was just Cooper and the knight. To distract myself I looked back down at my arm, still bleeding. I had no idea what to do so I decided to pull the nail out. I took a deep breath in anticipation before giving it a good, hard yank. I couldn't help the loud cry that escaped my mouth. At the same time, I heard a body fly into some wood nearby. "It's not Cooper, it's not Cooper," I repeated over and over again as I fussed over my arm. 

"Well, I'd say come up here and get me, but it's hard to walk upstairs while wearing a 12-piece cast-iron skillet set." Cooper chuckled.

Relief flooded my body when I heard his voice. The sudden sounds of bullets, explosions, and crashing filled my ears. I closed my eyes tight as I waited for it all to stop.

Eventually, I heard the knight flying overheard, clearly having lost control of his suit. It was over. 

"Y/n?" I heard Cooper yell out. 

I unsteadily got up on my feet and shuffled out from behind the building, still cradling my arm. "I am here."

As his eyes raked me over and stopped at my arm a look of concern washed over his face. He jogged over to take a closer look.

"I'm okay." I try and convince him as he gently touches my wound. 

"Those crocodile tears suggest otherwise, sugar." Cooper responds, giving me a small smile. "Let's find you a stimpack."

I nod my head as he wraps his arm protectively around me and guides me towards the shop. He only lets go when we reach the dog, wounded and whining on the ground. He gently picks it up and brings it into the shop with us. After putting the dog down on the table, he starts to rummage through the junk in the shop. 

"There's gotta be one around here somewhere." He mumbles. 

Between sniffles I say, "When you find one, give it to the dog."

He lets out a small chuckle as he finally finds what he's looking for. "Well lucky for us I found two."

"And the bounty?" I ask as he makes his way towards me.

"Ah, I'll get him," Cooper says, brushing off my concerns before he quickly stabs me with the needle.

"Ouch!" I whine as he rubs my arm while shushing me.

"You are okay, Darlin'." He coos.

"The dog-" I start.

"I got the dog." Cooper interrupts before giving the dog the other stimpack, petting his head gently. A smile erupts across his face as the dog pops up, immediately feeling better. "There."

I smile wide as I watch him with the dog. "You like dogs."

He looks over at me still smiling as his eyes flicker over to my arm. The wound was healed and I am no longer cradling it, the pain completely gone. "Feelin' better?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

All the feelings I had experienced during the shootout came flooding back to me as my smile faded. I felt overwhelmed with sadness, fear, and relief. "I-" I started as tears filled my eyes. 

"I was so worried about you!" I cried out as I ran towards him and wrapped my arms around him. 

Faster than it took to wrap my arms around him, I felt him rip me off. He dug his fingers into my shoulders as he held me at arm's length, shaking me gently. "Don't." He said sternly.

Embarrassment washed over me as I stared down at my feet. "I-"

"Just, don't." He interrupted, sighing before releasing me. "We will wait here until nightfall and then we'll follow Whilzig's trail. See if you can find anything useful around here while we wait."

"Okay," I whispered in response before shuffling to the other end of the store. The rejection stung so deeply that I could barely focus on what I was looking at. Right when he started to warm up to me, I ruined it.

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