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sceletaflores · 2 days ago

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I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!

divider by angel @saradika-graphics!

it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.

It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.

It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.

He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.

His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.

By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.

He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.

The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.

"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.

Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.

Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.

You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.

Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.

The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.

Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent.

The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.

“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”

Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.

The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.

You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”

Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”

You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.

“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”

The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.

You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.

“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.

“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.

Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”

“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts.

Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.

He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.

Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning.

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”

The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.

Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.

Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make—each whimper, each moan, a siren’s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more.

He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you.

It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved.

The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.

His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.

“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure.

The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.

Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.

The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.

He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.

Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.

Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”

Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.

He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.

“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.

The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."

He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.

Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure.

Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.

Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist.

He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.

You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.

He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.

“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.

With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.

“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”

Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain.

The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.

With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.

He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.

Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer.

Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.

Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.

He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.

“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.

Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”

He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours.

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.

Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.

It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.

Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.

His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.

Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow.

Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.

“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”

The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”

Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.

He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.

“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.

The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.

You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.

He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.

“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”

"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."

A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest.

Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.

“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”

Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt.

Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.

He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.

He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.

Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.

He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.

“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.

“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.

“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.

It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.

Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”

Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.

He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.

And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.

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lovegalor333 · 3 days ago

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˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

you’re gonna be ok (paige x reader)

summary: you’re going through a tough time and have pushed paige away but she finally realises something is wrong

content warnings: talks of depression and ed behaviours/language

requested by: @melpthatsme 💗

Your girlfriend was getting suspicious and rightly so. You had just given her another lame excuse as to why you couldn’t have dinner with her tonight. That was the third time this week.

At first it was ‘too much homework’, then a ‘headache’ and now it was your ‘period’. All lies.

As you lay curled up in your bed, all lights turned off, you sobbed silent tears until your pillow was saturated. You felt guilty lying to Paige but you couldn’t go out, especially not to eat.

You wasn’t entirely sure why Paige even wanted to be seen in public with you anyway, why she was with you at all actually. Paige was beautiful. Like the most beautifully perfect woman there ever was. Her eyes shone bright at all times and whether her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail or left natural and loose, framing her face, it looked immaculate. She was intelligent and athletic, maintaining an almost perfect GPA while simultaneously leading her team in back to back wins. Paige was everything and you, you were nothing.

You hated everything about yourself and you were usually good at hiding it. Painting on a fake smile and laughing when others laughed, mirroring your friends actions to make it seem like everything was just fine but it was getting harder to hide. You were drinking and smoking just to get respite from your thoughts. You were dragging yourself to gatherings just to count down the minutes until you could leave and be alone in your room where you could finally let your guard down.

You were proud at how long you had gone keeping this to yourself but it was almost impossible now. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to leave the apartment. You didn’t want to eat. You didn’t want to see anyone. In fact, you didn’t want to see yourself. You had even gone as far to cover every mirror in your room just to avoid the reflection that made you sick to your stomach.

You felt like you had cried a river this past week but the tears wouldn’t stop, you thought there would be nothing left to give but you were a never ending pit of sadness.

You hear shuffling and muffled voices coming from your living room, your roommates must be home. You thanked yourself for keeping your lights off and closed your eyes so if they came into your room, they’d think you were sleeping.

A few seconds past before you heard a light knock at your door. You ignored it. Pressing yourself further into your mattress, wishing it would swallow you whole. Then came the click of the handle being turned and the door squeaking open.

You kept your body as still as possible, holding your breath in hopes that whoever was disturbing you would think twice but that doesn’t happen. Instead your bedroom light is flicked on and your door is closed with force, practically slammed.

“Why did you lie to me?” You recognise Paiges voice immediately and it’s a mixture of pissed off but also upset and you know it’s your fault.

“What?” You say, even though you heard her loud and clear.

“I know you’re not on your period. Our cycles are synced. They have been for months. Why did you lie?” Paige asks again and you feel so stupid for making such a rookie error.

Paige was right. Your cycles were synced, it happened often with women and girls that spent a lot of time together, so when you were on your period, she was too. She had caught you out in your lie.

“I don’t know.” You mummble into your duvet, still curled up tightly.

“You’ve blown me off three times this week. You barely answer my calls and texts, it’s like I have to force you to see me and now you’re lying to me and you can’t even be bothered to tell me why?” Paige rants and even though you still haven’t looked at her you can tell she’s pacing your room.

“I don’t understand what’s going on. I thought we were good but maybe not.” She says and you physically feel your heart brake at her words but you can’t bring yourself to say anything other than, “Maybe.”

“What?” She asks confused even though she was the one who said it first, “Y/N, can you at least fucking look at me?” She snapped and you know thats the least you owe her so you slowly roll yourself around so you’re no longer facing the wall and push yourself up into a sitting position but you can’t bring yourself to lift your eyes from your lap.

“I wanted to take you for dinner, spend some time with you. Just be with you and I thought you would have wanted the same but instead you’re in bed!” Paige continued and you just took her onslaught of words, you didn’t have the energy to argue or even defend yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, picking at the already raw skin around your nails.

“Will you just look at me? Do you want to break-” You finally look at Paige and she stops mid-sentence, “Have you been crying?”

You ignore her question because your heart is racing and more tears are threatening to fall at what she was about to ask, “Finish what you were about to say.” You whisper but she doesn’t need to, you knew what she was going to say. She was going to ask if you wanted to break up.

“What’s the matter? What happened? Why were you crying?” Paige asks all at once, any annoyance in her tone has been replaced with concern and her facial expression shifted from dark and frowning to soft and doe eyed.

“I wasn’t.” You lie, “Finish what you were about to say.”

“Yes you were. Your eyes are red and puffy, your skin is blotchy,” She walks towards you, “and your pillows wet. Why were you crying?”

“You want to break up.” You answer your own question.

“No. No, I don’t. But I don’t understand what’s going on with you, I thought maybe you did.” She says honestly sitting on the edge of your bed.

“I don’t.”

“Why were you crying baby? Tell me what’s on your mind.” She says placing a hand on your leg.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too much Paige. My mind is too much, it’s too dark. You don’t deserve that.” You begin to cry again and it quickly turns into sobs.

“Hey, baby, come here.” She whispered, pulling you into her chest and onto her lap, she wrapped her arms around your body and held you close, “You’re scaring me.” She admits, “Tell me what’s going on my love. I want to help you.”

“You deserve more than this Paige.” You choke out in between sobs, you’re hyperventilating now, your body shaking in your girlfriends arms but she continues to hold you tight and close.

“But I want you. I love you.” She pulls away from you slightly so she can look you in your eyes and she holds your face tenderly, a hand on each cheek, “You’re all I want, my beautiful girl.”

“Don’t say that.” You weep, jumping out of her lap.

“Don’t say what?”

“Don’t say I’m beautiful. Don’t say any of it. It’s not true.” You cross your arms over yourself wishing you could shrink down into the smallest dimensions and eventually disappear.

“Baby, what are you saying? What’s going on?” She reaches out for you but you pull away not wanting to be touched.

Paige properly looks around your room for the first time and you watch as she notices everything and you see the cogs turning in her head as her eyes fall to your mirror, covered by a sweater. She sees the paper taped to your wall with your weight written on it followed by the harshest of words that you thought about yourself. She sees the empty alcohol bottles on your dresser and the half smoked blunt on your bedside table. And when she finally looks at you, in your oversized clothes, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, her eyes were glossy and her forehead creased as she fought back tears of her own.

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but I do know that I do love you and you are beautiful and I’ll tell you that everyday until you believe it.” She says as a tear slips down her cheek.

Paige walks over to you, taking you by your hands first and kissing both of them. She pulls on the sleeves of your sweater and you reluctantly let her pull it over your head so your just standing there in your bra. You close your eyes not wanting to see her reaction to your body, the thought of it made you sick. You felt her lips press to your stomach and she peppered kisses up your torso, “My beautiful baby.” She mumbled against your skin as she continued to kiss over your chest and onto your neck.

She took you to your bed, laying you down and she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your joggers, pulling them off, exposing your legs. You wanted to grab the sheet and cover yourself up but her mouth met your thigh and she pecked it gently, moving over the the other, “So perfect.” She breathed, the tips of her fingers trailing down your legs.

You lay on your bed, eyes closed, tears streaming out and you feel Paige hover above you, “Look at me baby.” She says softly, wiping the tears that soaked your cheeks. You flutter your eyes open and look up at Paige who’s looking down at you, eyes filled with nothing but love and care. “Please don’t shut me out. I’m here for you. Anything you need me to do, I’ll do it. I just want you to be OK. I need you to be OK. You’re everything to me.” She says, blue eyes locked on yours.

“Can you just hold me tonight?” You sniffle. “Of course.”

Paige lays on your bed, pulling you into her arms, she presses her lips to your head before her fingers find your hair and she runs through it gently, “You’re gonna be OK.” She whispers comfortingly. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: i wrote this so tired so forgive any mistakes 😭 already want to write a part 2 🥺🥺

#paige bueckers #wlw #lgbtq #oneshot #paige x reader #uconn wbb #wcbb #paige bueckers imagine #blurb #fanfic #lovegalor333

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highprettybabyy · 2 days ago

Text

Pregnancy Problems

pregnant!wanda x servicetop g!p r

summary: wanda experiences some issues during the pregnancy, but you’re always happy to help

Warnings: SMUT! also lotta fluff, morning sickness, swearing, self image issues, body dysmorphia, face sitting (r receiving), lots of praising, petnames, cunnilingus (w receiving), (slight) overstimulation, crying during sex (from how good it feels/overstimulation), fingering (w receiving), creampie/breeding kink, reader has a penis

AN: Wanda and R are married + please be mindful, im not experienced in writing, let alone writing smut lol

word count: 5k

—//—

Wanda was about 2 months along by now, the hellish start of the morning sickness phase. It was 4 in the morning when the little ones made a fuss, Wanda immediately being forced out of the warm cocoon you had created with the sheets to run to the bathroom. She nearly missed the bowl when everything that was in her stomach violently came out.

This was becoming a nightly habit, one that was really fucking with her mentally and physically. Since two weeks ago she's been sleeping horribly. Some mornings were fine, she’d only have a slight stomach ache, and some were worse, like this one, where she would probably stay in the bathroom until high noon.

She had given up on waking you at every slight issue. You were always pleased to help, offering reassurance and comfort as she needed it, but she thought that there was no reason for you both to lose sleep over this. However, that didn’t stop your stubborn ass from finding her on the bathroom floor, softly pulling her hair into a ponytail and slowly running comforting circles on her back while you whispered reassurances and praise.

She ended up having a very long morning, the sun having already come up while she was still emptying her stomach contents into the bowl. You had grabbed her water, massaged her shoulders, cleaned her face with a damp cloth, changed her into new clothes, and asked if she wanted to try eating something. She declined but knew that you would ask her hourly at the minimum, stating that she is growing a whole human inside of her and needs enough energy and calories to do so.

The afternoon rolled around when Wanda started feeling a tad better. You were able to move from the bathroom to the couch, huddled next to each other watching sitcoms, Wanda laid sideways in your lap as you ran a comforting hand wherever you could reach, mostly massaging her scalp and neck. There was a large mixing bowl on the table in front of you, just in case something were to happen, but Wanda had not thrown up in a while by now so hopefully the worst had passed.

“Baby?” You asked, fingers still running through gorgeous auburn locks. “Hmmm” The witch answered, shifting her eyes away from the television to look at you. “Can I make you some tea? And do you feel like trying to eat something now or do we need to wait a little longer?”

Wanda saw the look in your eyes, the one where all your anxieties bubbled to the surface, scared that somehow Wanda would collapse from malnutrition and sleep deprivation or other things. She really, really did not feel like eating something, but you've been knawing at the inside of your cheek for the past 15 minutes and she was getting scared you'd chew a hole through.

"I'd actually love some tea, thank you detka." You perked up as Wanda lifted her head from the comfortable position on your lap so you could get up. You gave her a quick peck on the lips before basically sprinting to the kitchen to make her beloved tea with extra honey.

While the kettle was heating up the water, tea bag and honey already in her favourite mug, you were scavenging the kitchen for possible snacks. You grabbed a big plate to hold all the various items of food. You didn't know what she would be in the mood for, so you settled on half the kitchen. A couple of grapes, half of a banana, some chocolate chips, a dollop of peanut butter, a few popcorn kernels, some crackers, pretzels, blueberries, and of course a single dill pickle.

After everything was done you returned to your darling Wanda on the couch. "What's all this Y/N/N?" Wanda's eyes flew open when she saw the plate. "Just a little snack if you wanted something.. Here's your tea love." Wanda grabbed the mug from you with a smile as you put the plate down in front of her. You weren't going to force her (yet) but this way she would have the option if she wanted to.

You sat down next to her again and kissed her temple, arm wrapped snug around your wife as she laid her head on your shoulder. Wanda pretended to not have noticed your internal exclamation of joy when she silently sipped her tea and ate a single cracker.

Wanda was crying again as she tried on her sweatpants, which would not fit anymore. She was 5 months pregnant now with your beautiful twin boys and her hormones were going absolutely haywire. One second she was so happy and radiant, the next furious and bawling her eyes out.

"Y/N they won't fit anymore, I've become a giant cow, how could you ever love me like this??" She sobbed in front of the mirror. Upon hearing her words you quickly sprinted to her. "Baby no, don't say that you are beautiful just the way you are. You are carrying our babies Wanda, that's no simple job, your body is just adjusting to the change that's all.." You were really hoping you said the right thing, you didn't want to upset her further, but when she suddenly looked at you with anger in her eyes, you flinched away momentarily.

She pointed her finger at you, poking your chest. "Youuu. You did this to me! With your stupid charming face, and those stupid beautiful fucking eyes, and your stupid caring personality!" You did not know whether to be scared or happy. She was complimenting you but she was also angry. "I'm sorry Wanda"

"God, this is exactly what I mean, you absolute doofus!" Wanda was still angry, having crossed her arms and puffing out whilst she stood there almost half naked in front of you. But those y/e/c eyes just looked at her with guilt and concern.

"You are so fucking frustrating sometimes Y/N" She muttered as she slammed her lips against yours, devouring you. You immediately returned the gesture, grabbing her waist to pull her closer to you, then fully wrapping your arms around the shorter woman, enveloping her completely in your embrace. You were really possessive of her lately, not that you'd ever show it besides small gestures like this, but Wanda was enjoying every second of it.

Wanda moaned into your mouth and every passing second you could feel your pants getting tighter and tighter as she tried grinding against you. "Please, please Y/N." She begged between kisses, overwhelmed with a sudden desperation for you. "Pleaaaseeeehh" She whined out. "What baby love, tell me what you want gorgeous." You breathed out, starting to attack her neck with your lips. "Anything, give me anything and everything, pleaseee Y/N - please"

Your eyes darkened upon hearing her words, "Yeah, you'd let me do anything and everything?" Wanda grabbed your face, nodding while kissing you, "Please"

You walked backwards until you felt the back of your bed, falling down and (carefully) bringing Wanda down with you, your lips never leaving her. Wanda straddled you, bringing her hips down to grind down on the enormous tent in your pants, which caused you to let out a strangled moan. "You wanna ride me baby, how bout you ride my face first?"

Wanda slowed down at that, "No, I'd crush you." You looked at her as sternly as you could (which wasn't all that intimidating tbh) "If you really don't want to, that's ok, but if you're only hesitant because you think I'd suffer? Honey, I could never suffer between your legs, that would probably be the most ideal way to go, I'd already be in heaven -" Wanda rolled her eyes and shoved her tongue in your mouth to shut you up. "Fine." She huffed. "But tell me if you can't handle it anymore."

You smirked, but bit your tongue and simply nodded as an answer, stroking her sides and upper thighs to work her back up again, which worked amazingly as Wanda desperately moaned in your mouth. You laid down and gently pushed her up towards your face until you were looking at her black panties. You decided it would be too tedious to pull them down now, so you pushed them to the side as you bewondered the sight above you.

You softly moaned as you spread her open, seeing the arousal leak out and everywhere, running your thumb every so lightly across her clit. "Oh baby you don't even know how gorgeous you are, just look at this oh my g-" Too impatient to complete your sentence you simultaneously lifted your head while pulling Wanda down harshly, your head falling back on the bed as you forced Wanda all the way down on your face.

"Aaah- ah - ah- oh! oooh" Wanda was a sputtering, moaning mess, your tongue ravaging her completely, running through her folds, inner thighs, everywhere you could reach. Wanda was having a hard time keeping her stability, legs jerking around your head, only still upright by strong arms locking her into position. Even though she was pretty sure you hadn't taken a breath since the start of your assault, Wanda felt like you were suffocating her with how unrelenting you were. She could almost let out a sob, until you finally took a breath. Wanda gasped and moved her hands to her breasts, tugging at the hardened nips.

You took a deep breath "God Wands.. You taste so sweet baby. So good baby, only for me." You groaned out. You held her up a bit as you dragged your thumb through her folds, spreading them lightly. "Look at this perfect pretty pussy, hmm?" Wanda couldn't stop herself from moaning at your words, almost screaming when you slipped your middle finger in her, falling forward on the bed, catching herself on her hands.

You quickly added a second digit after you felt how hard she was clenching around you. Wanda was almost crying at the sensations. You were moving your fingers rapidly now, sloshing sounds resonating through the room, meanwhile softly biting at her thighs, your free hand reaching up to tug at her nipple. Wanda let out a sob. "Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me gorgeous?"

She nodded, high whines leaving her throat. The tight knot in her lower belly ready to snap at any moment. You quickly placed your thumb on her clit and rubbed tight circles. "Then cum for me princess." Wanda white-knuckled the sheets as she let out a silent scream, legs jerking in tandem from the cum pulsing out of her pussy. She was breathing heavily as she rode out her orgasm, your fingers moving lightly to prolong the feeling.

As Wanda began calming down, you pulled your fingers out and sucked them clean of her juices. Before she could even protest, you pulled her back down again to reseat her on your mouth, immediately starting an unrelenting assault on her sensitive clit. She cried, involuntarily trying to get away, but your grip was far too strong, a tear slipping from her eye at the overstimulation. "Sorry baby, you're so messy, I gotta clean you up."

She quickly passed the threshold of her second orgasm of the evening, you moving from between her legs to lay beside her. You put your left arm around her, pulling her close into you as you ran your other hand over her t-shirt-clad back, trying to calm her down further. "Baby you did so good, so so well for me." Wanda shuddered a bit, placing kisses on your shoulder and upper jaw to assure you that she's ok."

After a while her breathing calmed and she tries to shuffle closer, but her bump gets in the way. So she huffs and rolls over whilst holding your arm to pull it around her. You immediately catch onto her antics, fulfilling her wish and squeezing her tightly. She shuffles closer to you, hips wiggling backwards, as they brush against something hard.

You let out a soft groan and she immediately turned her head, seemingly forgotten that you didn't cum. Your eyes met and you grabbed her jaw to kiss her deeply, both eventually losing your breath. "You didn't cum Y/N?" She breathed out. You chuckled and nuzzled her nose slightly with yours, "I didn't need to, the sight of your pretty pussy rubbing on my tongue was plenty of satisfaction", you finished with a peck on her lips. Like magic, Wanda was furiously turned on again. Eyes hazing over while her lips formed into a pout.

"Please fuck me, Y/N? I need it." You let out a low breath, eyes darkening at her words. "God Wands" You pulled her underwear down to her knees, content leaving it there at the moment, basically locking them in place. The tightness in your pants was almost cutting off circulation, pulling your pants and underwear down slightly to finally free yourself from the fabric prison. You grabbed your cock, giving it some attention and prepping yourself with precum.

"You have no idea what you do to me." You dragged your tip through her soaking folds, lubing your cock with her cum, before entering her. She gasped and reached her hand backwards to entangle in your hair. You groaned, breathing heavily as you resisted from pounding into her, slightly concerned for the babies. She scratched at your scalp lightly to signal that you could move.

You pulled your hips back, before thrusting them forward again, repeating the motion and grunting at each movement. Wanda was moaning too, letting out high wines occasionally, pulling at the roots of your hair. Your little gasps of air in her ear were really turning her on and the feeling of your large cock filling her up was heavenly. You wrapped around her further and reached your hands around to grab at her chest, playing with Wanda’s nipples as you started fucking into your wife faster.

"I'm yours." You grunted. "Say it." Wanda was slightly confused but complied nonetheless "You're mine." "That's right, I'm yours." You went faster and faster, the tight knot in Wanda's stomach tightening rapidly. "Mine." Wanda gasped out. "My pretty wife." You raked your nails lightly across her belly, goosebumps appearing all over her body, before tugging at one of her nipples suddenly. "Ah!"

"Say it. You're my pretty wife." She was almost turning incoherent from how good you were fucking her. "Yo-r prtty wife" You kissed her neck. "You're gorgeous." "I'm gorg-us" You bit at the junction of her neck and shoulder "You're kind." "I'm kind." You trailed your hand down, rubbing her lower belly. "You're compassionate." "'m compass-nate" Before finally settling on her clit, rubbing tight circles again. "You're perfect." "I-I- ah 'm perfECT" she screamed out as she came again, cum creaming around your cock, clenching you so tight that you also came - deep inside of her.

You groaned out " - yeah you are." Slowly fucking your cum back inside of her. You breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of her conditioner and perfume. Hands moving back up to massage at her ribs. "One more, you got one more for me. You're doing so good gorgeous, one more." You said, moving her into a doggy style position, legs spread wide as she accompanied her pregnant belly in this position.

You were entranced at the sight, cum slowly dripping out of her puffy cunt, hole still pulsating from her last orgasm. "So so pretty for me." You lined yourself up again and thrusted in straightaway, fucking her at an impossible pace. Wanda couldn't hold herself up anymore, her face lying on the bed with her arms crossed in front of her as you pounded into her.

"My pretty, gorgeous, kind, compassionate wife." You lifted your knee up to fuck into her deeper. "So perfect for me yeah" Wanda was left an incoherent blabbering mess, tears stained her cheeks out of overstimulation as you thrusted into her. Yet again she felt the familiar coil tightening, snapping when you told her that you loved her. "I love you Wanda, - I love you, love you, god"

You came deep inside of her again, basically putting another baby in her. She felt so, so full, your cock still inside of her, your cum filling her to the brim, slowly moving back and forth to prolong her orgasm. Eventually you pulled out of her slowly and flipped her on her back. Wanda was sure that your hunger would have been finished by now, but the way your gaze fixated on the cum slowly leaking out of her pussy told her enough.

You looked into her gorgeous green eyes and kissed her softly. "Can I clean you up, baby?" You both knew it was a question whether Wanda could handle another orgasm without passing out, you 'cleaning her up' always ended like that, your tongue as deep as you could in Wanda, listening to her pretty breaths and moans. You were completely insatiable when it came to her. Wanda pulled your face close to hers kissing you while nodding. "Just be gentle now ok? I don't think I can walk again after how you fucked me."

You smiled and nodded, kissing everywhere you could as you started descending towards her pussy. You especially took time in kissing her stretch marks, thankful for the torture her body went through because of pregnancy.

You wrapped your arms around her thighs again, locking her in place, as you delicately started cleaning her up. You licked all the arousal off of her thighs, around her lips, with a featherlight touch. She gasped when you ran your tongue between her folds, dipping down slightly to lick up all the cum, before moving up again and stopping just before her clit. You skilfully cleaned her up, leaving nothing but your saliva behind. Eventually you ever so lightly started including her clit in the process.

Wanda felt like she was floating. She was on a very tall rollercoaster and the cart was slowly moving up. She was in one of those dreams where you know you're about to fall if you dreamt on for a few more seconds.

It all caught her by surprise. Flattening your tongue and putting down just a tad more pressure. She exploded. The cart dropped off the cliff. She was convulsing beyond her understanding, as she laid there, taking anything and everything you gave her. Her legs were fully shaking, entire body trembling in aftershocks of the holy experience you just gave her. She started seeing spots and then promptly passed out.

When she awoke a while later, she was already clad in soft pyjamas, pressed tightly against your chest as you held her close, a water bottle, reeses peanut butter cup, and a sliced pear on the nightstand in front of her. You were nuzzling your nose against her hair, breathing in the coconut and distinct smell of Wanda, arms around her body, one of them holding your babies. She moved her hand to hold yours, signalling that she was awake.

"Hi baby, how are you feeling?" You asked her. "Tired." She let out with a chuckle. "Was I too rough with you? Are the babies ok?" Wanda rolled her eyes lightly, you asked this every time, granted this time was just a tad bit more unhinged, but still. "You were perfect." She muttered out, feeling you smile against the back of her head as you pulled her just a bit tighter to you.

"I love you Wands."

"I love you too Y/N."

It was officially the stage where you were a panicked mess and Wanda felt the need to nest, reorganising the entire house 3 times over while you were stressed out in the corner watching her because you weren’t allowed to help. Occasionally you managed to convince the stubborn woman to let you take out the garbage, or lift the heavy stuff, but most of the time you were shut down and told to get out of her way.

She was working in the nursery now, having went through every single room in the house already, when she decided that some new accessories were needed, like a table lamp and another rug. You were in your office with the door open, fingers tapping away at the keyboard as you answered a few mails, when your gorgeous wife appeared in the doorway.

“Hi baby, how’s the nursery coming along?” You asked as you got up to greet Wanda with a hug and kiss. “I’m on track, was thinking about getting a lamp and another rug.” “Hmm, another rug?” You questioned, there were already 2 in the room, one underneath each bassinet. “Yeah, one for underneath the rocking chair, next to the bookcase? It would tie it all together, I’m sure, however I’m still on the fence about the colour..”

“How about a forest green? It would match with the other rugs and tie the theme together?” You and Wanda decided on a forest theme for the nursery, you picked out a lovely wallpaper that resembled trees, the colours in the room ranged from green to brown to a golden orange. Hand-carved wooden animals were presented on the shelves that hung beside the large oak dresser, beautiful gifts from Yelena and Natasha that they gifted you when they found out you were expecting. They carved them from the wood from the tree where you and Wanda often went on dates underneath when you still lived at the compound. You cried when they explained it to you. And later when you and Wanda placed them on the shelves, you were sure that they would be the best godmothers to your sons.

“But we already have so much green? I’m not sure..” Wanda dug herself in the crook of your neck and nuzzled the skin there. You kissed the side of her head and ran your hands over her tense back. “Then how about you get some inspiration from the store? You could walk around and see what you think would fit best? Take some pictures from the nursery so you can really visualise it better?” Wanda sighed and agreed, holding you tighter. “Alright, I’m going to the store then really quickly.”

“Can I join you?” You asked while you pulled back a bit. “Actually I wanted to ask you if you could secure the dresser to the wall more? I don’t think just 2 bolts for such a large dresser is safe, what if one of the little ones pushes it over?”

You smiled “Sure honey, anything else?” Wanda smiled up at you cheekily before playing with the drawstrings of your hoodie “Could you vacuum upstairs? If the dresser doesn’t take too long? Please?”

“Of course baby. I’ll try to get to that as well.” You smiled, running your thumbs over her cheeks. “Anything else?” Wanda nodded. “A kiss.” You laughed and pulled her in, fulfilling her wish.

“Alright, I’ll be back in an hour or two, hopefully the traffic isn’t too bad.” Wanda patted your chest while leaving your warm embrace. “Honey wait-!” You jogged after her, “Here.” giving her your wallet.

Wanda rolled her eyes playfully, having long lost this battle. You always insisted you paid for everything, only occasionally letting her when you forgot your wallet (Wanda would hide it before going out). You wanted her to feel secure and egotistically you wanted to be the financial provider. You wanted Wanda to have everything her heart and mind desired without her having to worry about her savings. Plus, the company you ran was really profitable, which allowed you to spend your earnings on your amazing wife who 100% deserves to be spoiled.

She took your wallet, pulling out your debit card. Wanda already had your credit card, but the debit card was designated for groceries and other smaller things. You keep forgetting to get a second one, but after all these years you hadn’t come across a good enough reason to make the trip to the bank, having gotten used to sharing the one.

Wanda leaned up to kiss you as a thanks, before you told her to drive safe and keep you updated while she was gone.

Securing the dresser took you less than 15 minutes, being handy and having a stud finder came in clutch. Vacuuming also didn’t take that long, Wanda having vacuumed that morning while she decided which room to tackle next. You decided that after such a long day a nice romantic dinner and a hot bubble bath would be excellent for your hard working wife.

You smiled, heading to the kitchen first. You rummaged through the fridge, freezer, cupboards, and pantry, letting the ingredients inspire you. An hour later, the nadivka was in the oven and the oxtail stew was simmering on the stove.

You cleaned up the kitchen, tidied up where else you could, decided to set up a little foot massage area at the couch. You were almost sure every chore in the house had been done before you put on FRIENDS and laid down on the couch. Two and a half hours had quickly gone by, before you heard the gravel crackle on the driveway, signalling you that your wife was home. You sprinted to the door to open it. A teary eyed and sleepy pregnant Wanda stood before you.

“Oh bubs, what’s wrong?” You stepped aside to let her in. “They didn’t have the right carpet, or lamp, and traffic sucks, and my feet hurt.” She put down her purse and reached to hug you, which you immediately reciprocated. “Oh I’m sorry, we could look online to see if you like anything?” “Wanda hummed into your chest before inhaling deeply. “Omg detka what’s that smell?” She pushed against your chest lightly, her nose taking her to the origin of the smell. “Malysh… Is that oxtail?? And nadivka?!” She could almost jump from excitement as you nodded, explaining the process. She interrupted you with a kiss. “You cannot believe how much I needed something like this Y/N/N”

You smiled. “I’m glad it made you happy, however the oxtail still needs half an hour, so how about we relax on the couch a bit?” Wanda grinned and grabbed your hand, looking back at you questioningly as she saw the lotion, towel and face mask. You didn’t say anything and just positioned her down on the couch. You lifted her feet, sat down, put the towel over your lap and then gently laid Wanda’s feet on your towel clad thighs.

You grabbed the lotion, before finally looking at your wife to see her looking back at you with all the love in the world. “I love you so much Y/N, but you know you don’t have to do all this for me, right?” You raised your eyebrow, “I know.. but I want to?” You lathered your hands, warming them up before gently massaging her feet.

“It’s just, you do so much. My friends from book club think I’m lying every time I tell them about you.” She laughed while explaining. “I mean, you still do more Wands. You’re creating 2 tiny humans inside of you, from basically nothing. Two little greedy and tiring babies, who take up space without asking and drain you from energy and nutrients. Literally the least I can do is help you and make you the tiniest bit more comfortable.” You explained softly, proceeding to rub out the knots in her feet and calves.

“How did I get so lucky Malyshka?”

“I ask myself that same question every time I look into your eyes, my love.”

The delivery was rough. Contractions started at 1 am, and she wasn’t fully dilated until 10 am the next day. You were by her side the entire time doing whatever you could to help. But eventually, Wanda managed to birth the two beautiful baby boys that have been torturing Wanda for the past 9 months.

The entire hospital stay was exhausting, people coming to visit, check-ups from nurses and doctors, the twins themselves.. Everyone was sweet, but you both could use some rest, so when you got home with two car seats in hand, you both took a deep breath in.

They were both sleeping, so you decided to let them as you carefully carried them upstairs, Wanda following with the monitor in hand. She plugged it in, positioned it, then took the receiver with her to the bedroom.

Wanda was exhausted and instantly fell asleep as her head hit the pillow. You followed her in and sat beside her, gently taking the receiver from her hand, stroking a strand of hair behind her ear and kissing her forehead before whispering “Thank you my love.” You took off her shoes and closed the blinds. You then quietly left the room and shut the door.

You unloaded the car, cleaned where you could, put gifts on the table to sort through when Wanda was awake, and changed the twins when they started fussing, taking them downstairs as they fully woke up. Wanda had pumped a lot in the hospital, so you took one of the evening packs to feed to Tommy and Billy.

The twins were fed, burped, and put back to bed by the time Wanda awoke from her 7 hour nap, looking to find you. She headed downstairs, following the soft glow from the candles you had lit after cleaning. You were on the couch feet propped under you, laptop open on the coffee table with a take-away restaurant list open, reading a parenting book while the baby monitor sat beside you on the couch.

Soft arms wrapped around you as Wanda placed a deep lingering kiss on your cheek, softly pecking a few times for good measure. Your voice was gravelly, exhaustion could clearly be heard, “I was thinking we’d order for dinner? If that’s alright with you? You can choose obviously.” Wanda nodded as she moved to lay beside you, picking up the monitor to place it next to the laptop. You placed a bookmark between the pages and moved it to the table, wrapping your arms around your wife as she laid her head on your chest.

“How about sushi?”

—//—

AN: hi pretty reader! hope you enjoyed it :)

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda marvel #wanda x reader #lesbian #wlw #wlw fanfiction #lesbian fanfiction #fanfic #hpb.fanfics #hpb.wanda

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witchymadness · 3 days ago

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☆-《The Stakes pt. 2》-☆

[A/N: Part 2 to this fic, no proofreading, we die like dumbasses. Might do a part 3 :DDD. Also, Lilia is speaking Sicilian while (Y/N) speaks Italian.

TW: angst, character death, mentions of assault.

P.S. you get this pic of Patti for compensation.]

(Y/N)'s eyes fluttered open, arms wrapped around Lilia's waist. The latter was muttering something in Sicilian. "No, nun li pigghiari-- (No, don't take her--)"

"Amore, stai bene? (Love, are you okay?)" (Y/N) whispered, rubbing Lilia's arm.

Whimpers escaped Lilia's mouth as she began to toss and turn, taking (Y/N) aback. (Y/N) felt something enveloping her, an almost fuzzy feeling that left the hairs on her arms standing.

All of the sudden, the window of their shared quarters burst open, a gust of wind blowing through the air. (Y/N) thinks that maybe her mind was playing tricks on her but the resonance through the atmosphere seemed as if it was... "Amber?"

"NINE OF SWORDS!"

And then all of the sudden, everything stopped.

"Lilia! What happened, amore?"

"What... What did happen?" She held her head and an eye closed, pain shooting through Lilia's skull. Leaning against (Y/N), she tried to catch her breathing, matching her rapidly-paced huffs to the sound of her lovers own steady ones.

(Y/N) both curious and afraid, slowly shook her head. "Nevermind me, darling. It was probably just a nightmare."

Lilia nodded as (Y/N) pulled their windows shut once more.

"Come, my love. Let us sleep."

As Lilia's eyes started to flutter asleep, and a chaste kiss was given to the Countess, (Y/N) sat there awake.

She knew about Lilia's magic, the very essence of it, even if it remained unspoken between them. The horrors of Lilia's youth locked the truth of her being into a mere memory. It is, after all, what drew (Y/N) close to Lilia, the breadth of her magic surging through the air from the very moment they've locked eyes.

And (Y/N) had far too long feared that her nature, the horrifying hunger that (Y/N) battled with would push her love away. But she knew Lilia was bright, and she knew that there was more to her lover.

They both kept their identities at arms length at the fear of losing themselves and the other. They were two peas in a pod, creatures of the night; living life unlike those around them. They greet death like an old friend as she rains down upon the men around them.

Bathed in moonlight, they did so in the nights that they were together. The Divine Mother bore witness to their dances under her favor, and but the stars serving as their audience.

(Y/N)'s skin crawled at the idea that the lady of life was upon her doorstep once more. And if it was so, Lilia was too adamant, too stubborn to let her in.

Vampires, unlike witches, toe the line of life and death. They were a conundrum in Life's grandiose game, their lifeline like a wine flowing from water. One could say that Death despised them. A corpse they would not be able to take with them.

These thoughts lulled the woman to sleep, holding the witch with her wild curls close to her.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"(Y/N), my love. It is time for breakfast." Lilia whispered, lips resting on (Y/N)'s forehead.

"Just a moment more, darling." (Y/N) hummed, the thoughts of last night dissolving into nothingness.

"The Sun."

"Oh, yes, darling. The sun is indeed... Beautiful. But I'll be terribly busy with the preparations for the ball today."

(Y/N) forced her eyes open with a yawn, checking to see if her little white lie had slipped through Lilia's watchful eyes. But the girl only stared at her, confused.

"I... I suppose so, amore." Lilia let out a small, nervous chuckle. "Right, shall we dine then?"

(Y/N) nodded, fear creeping up upon her. And beside her, Lilia stared blankly at their headboard, wondering what prompted (Y/N)'s sudden answer. Could it be that she... No, she willed her powers away. How could it?

"Andiamo, amore mio?"

"Noi, amuri meu."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Marchese Girardus de Medici," Greeted a dashing young man, his hair a dirty ash blonde thay would've struck any maiden through the heart. Alas, he was another of Lilia's suitors she'd have to entertain through the night. "Piacere di conoscerti, mia signora. (Pleasure to meet you, my lady.)"

Girardus took Lilia's hand, kissing the back of it while keeping his eyes trained on the woman. Only a polite smile was returned to him, however, as her eyes flashed across the ballroom to a woman lurking in the shadows.

"Il piacere è tutto mio. (The pleasure is mine.)" She half-heartedly responded.

Smirking, the lad guided Lilia to the middle of the ballroom. "You look beautiful tonight, m'lady."

"Thank you, Marchese." Lilia responded with grace, all the while gliding effortlessly through the floor.

Her smile dropped as she looked over to the corner where her beloved had once stood, only to find it empty. "Marchese Girardus, if you would excu--"

The marquis cut her off, pulling her frame towards him feverishly, as if Lilia was a bunny to escape his cold, wolf-like grip. Lilia squeaked at the sudden movement, panic setting in as she couldn't sense (Y/N) anywhere.

"But Lady Lilia, the night is still young, 'no? Allow me to get to know my wife a tad longer."

The woman squeezed her eyes shut, disdain coating her tongue.

"(Y/N), no!"

"I must insist, dear Marchese. I really do need to find Lady (L/N)--"

Girardus chuckled, his breath tickling Lilia's ear. "Oh, her? Slippery little minx, your friend, huh? So unlucky, we would have wed if it weren't for her parents' sudden death. But alas, karma comes to those deserving."

Deep breaths. Lilia took deep breaths, letting what Girardus wa saying about her beloved and her family slip past her ears. Desperate to find the Countess, she turned to her refuge.

She divined, calling out to the Divine Mother herself. Her veins burned with amber, the power enveloping her. Through Girardus' incessant pestering, only visions of what was to come broke through.

Lilia could only see, a sharp blade, piercing her chest. Her own wails, begging the perpetrator to stop. It was all that Lilia could. She knew what was to happen. She told (Y/N). But it changed nothing.

"Good thing, I'm glad that I would not have a family of freaks to carry with me. Rumours had spread amongst our kingdom, and to those around that they were monsters; killed by their own subjects after they had fed on them."

"She tasted delicious, though. I would've given it to her, you know." Girardus' hand went lower. "Little whore had it coming, but she just had to scream and ruin our moment."

"You wouldn't do that, would you, m'lady?" This time, his hand had landed smack dab on Lilia's ass.

Just then, the voice she had been dying to hear, slipping through the noisy ballroom. "Let go of her, Girardus."

"I was just getting to know Lady Lilia. Do not tell me that you are jealous, (Y/N)?" Girardus bellowed, garnering the attention of crowds.

(Y/N) snatched Lilia's arm, pulling her close. She had no intentions of duking it out with the man and instead laid her gaze upon Lilia. "Are you alright, darling?"

"Unhand the lady this instance!"

Lunging forward, he grasped his sword, unsheathing it from his side and pointing it at (Y/N). She had managed to dodge it, pushing Lilia to the side.

Gasps fill the air as (Y/N) had suddenly disappeared, instead a small bat had taken form.

"You foul creature," screamed Girardus. "Come down here this instance."

Lilia sat on the floor, frozen. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, confusion yet relief flooded her. Just then, a vision, her vision of (Y/N), took over her. Finally, a full picture had laid itself out in front of Lilia. The hand holding the knife belonged to... Her father.

"(Y/N), no!"

Against all logic, (Y/N) threw herself down beside Lilia, transfiguring into her own body once more. "My love, I'm here."

"Do not harm the lady, loathsome beast. And I might just grant you a merciful death."

"(Y/N), no. Get out of here, please, amore. He's going to--"

Time slowed as (Y/N) looked at Girardus approaching, while Lilia looked behind her as her father, determined, marched forward with a dagger in hand.

She had to change fate.

A loud scream echoed through the ballroom.

A faint ray of yellow sent the king flying, landing on the table containing the feast laid out for the joyous night.

But alas, fate cannot be changed.

Girardus' sword pierced through (Y/N). He let out a victorious laugh. "The monster has been killed!"

Cheers filled the ballroom, celebrating the fall of the horrendous beast, Countess (Y/N) de Medici.

"And now," he huffed. "A witch amongst us. Princess Lilia de Calderu, surrender or you will be next."

She looked at (Y/N)'s almost lifeless body, a tear escaping her cheek. She pressed a kiss to her forehead for the last time before letting out a blood-curdling scream. It sent beams of gold throughout the ballroom, allowing Lilia to jump off a broken window from the impact of her magic.

She was falling.

Using what was left of her energy, she pushed herself up, flying. Only the bright full moon guiding her path.

#agatha all along #lilia calderu #lilia calderu x reader #fanfic #patti lupone #wlw #patti lupone x reader

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eu-nicola · 1 day ago

Text

the finish line part 3

part 1 part 2

summary: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 6122

author's note: english is not my first language, penultimate part

tags: @ferakillia @bunnies-p1tst0p @maluzets55

Determined to work things out, you called Lando and asked to speak in person. Even though deep down you already knew it would be a difficult and probably painful conversation, you also knew you couldn’t keep running away from your problems. Lando agreed to meet you at the hotel cafeteria, though his tone on the phone sounded tense and distant.

As you got ready, your stomach was turning. You thought back to the pictures and messages you’d received, the missed calls Lando had made to you after being discovered, and everything that had happened between you and Max. You took a breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, wanting to feel safe, and walked out to Lando’s hotel.

When you got to the cafeteria, you found him already waiting for you at a table in the back. He had a stiff posture, his hands folded in front of him on the table and his gaze fixed on the coffee in front of him. His eyes lifted slightly when he saw you arrive, and you noticed the mix of discomfort and guilt he was trying to hide under a calm facade.

You sat in silence, watching him carefully. After a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“Look, I don’t want… this conversation to get out of hand,” Lando began, his voice wavering. “I know you’re upset, and I’m clear on why. I just want you to know that… it wasn’t what it seemed.”

You looked at him, eyes narrowing. His words sounded forced, as if he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying. It hurt you to see him like this, so changed, so full of insecurity.

“It wasn’t what it seemed, Lando?” you asked, keeping your tone firm. “I saw the photos. Everyone has seen them.”

He frowned, clearly upset.

“You don’t have to make this any harder,” he replied in a defensive tone. “It was a mistake. I was just… I needed to distract myself.” But that doesn't change how I feel about you.

A mixture of anger and disappointment ran through you. You had expected a sincere apology, something more than excuses and empty promises. You tried to remain calm, but your words came out with the coldness of truth.

"How I feel has changed too, Lando," you said quietly. "All of this... I don't know if it makes sense."

Lando lowered his gaze, but you noticed that he still maintained that defensive air. It was clear that he wasn't fully assuming his responsibility; he didn't seem willing to face the consequences of his decisions.

"So this is it?" he asked in a bitter tone. "For a mistake? You weren't even there to support me like you always do. And what was I supposed to do?" His words sounded reproachful, as if he were trying to transfer part of the blame to you.

You bit your lip, holding back your fury. You knew it had been difficult for him not to have you around, but that didn't justify his attitude. Finally, you gathered your courage and faced the issue once and for all.

“This isn’t just about what happened, Lando. There’s something bigger going on here,” you told him firmly. “I need some time to think, to get clear on what I really want. I can’t stay in a relationship where I constantly have to worry about whether or not you’ll do the right thing when I’m gone.”

He gulped, and for a moment, you saw a flash of genuine pain in his eyes. But instead of acknowledging the problem, he chose to back away once again.

“Do what you want then,” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh and looking away. “If you need time, go ahead. I’m not going to stop you.”

Those words were confirmation of everything you had felt during this last stage of your relationship. Without further ado, you stood up, leaving one last glance at the one you had considered your partner for so long. There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and then you turned around and walked out of the coffee shop without looking back.

As you walked away, you felt a strange mix of relief and sadness. You had hoped that this conversation would bring you some sort of peace, a reconciliation, or at least a heartfelt explanation. But instead, it only confirmed what you already feared: perhaps it was time to put an end to it.

Back in your hotel room, you took a seat on the bed and looked around, trying to process everything that had happened. The room was silent, and the weight of your decision began to settle in, bringing with it a wave of conflicting emotions. You pulled out your phone and, almost without thinking, opened the message Max had sent you hours ago, wondering how your conversation with Lando had gone.

Without much hesitation, you wrote him a short reply.

You: “We just talked… and I think I need some time to sort out my feelings.”

After a few minutes, the phone vibrated. Max had replied:

Max: “Do whatever you need. Just remember that if you decide to move on, I’m here for you. You don’t have to face it alone.”

Reading his words, you felt a small spark of calm, as if the weight of everything that had happened had lightened a little. You knew that this time away would be necessary to understand what it was that you really wanted, but there was one thing clear in all of this: you needed to feel authentic again, without the shadows of a relationship that had begun to consume more than it offered.

Even though you wanted to take some time off, the last race of the year was being held in Abu Dhabi, and you had to attend. For you, the trip had a professional purpose: the promotion of Rolex. Despite having distanced yourself from Lando and having spent a few days trying to find clarity about your feelings, you knew that this race would also be the closing of an intense and emotional season.

Dressed elegantly, you wore a shiny Rolex watch that caught the light with every movement. As you walked through the paddock, you felt the gazes of some acquaintances and other members of the industry; everyone knew that you had been a constant figure in Lando's team, and now it seemed strange to see you in an independent context.

While you were fulfilling your promotional tasks, you crossed paths with Max. He wore his usual determined expression, but this time there was something different in his gaze. When he saw you, his eyes lit up slightly, as if something in him had made up his mind. You noticed that, despite the crowd, his steps were heading straight towards you, with a confidence that made your pulse race.

"Hey," he said, smiling slightly. "I didn't think I'd find you here so early. How have you been?" His tone was warm, close, something different from the previous times.

“I'm… fine, I guess” you answered, trying to sound casual, although the closeness made you feel a mix of nervousness and curiosity. “I had to be here for Rolex. You know what this sponsorship thing is like.”

He nodded, and for a moment they remained silent, watching the hustle and bustle of preparations around them.

“I know things have been complicated for you lately” Max said, with a more serious tone than usual. “And I don't want to seem nosy, but… I haven't stopped thinking about what we talked about last time.”

The sincerity in his words threw you off a little. You had tried to stay distant, focus on yourself, and not think about everything you had experienced. But there was Max, with his penetrating gaze and his usual confidence, willing to open up in a way that you hadn't seen in him until now.

“I'm not here to pressure you” he continued, looking into your eyes. “I just wanted you to know that… I’m willing to fight for you, if you just give me a chance.”

His confession resonated with you, breaking the barrier you had built up over the past few weeks. You felt like it wasn’t just a passing statement; there was a depth to his words that made you doubt everything you had tried to rationalize. Deep down, something in you had been waiting to hear this, though you refused to admit it.

“Max…” you began, not knowing exactly how to express what you felt. “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do. After everything that’s happened, I’m not sure that getting more involved is the best thing for either of us.”

He nodded, listening to each word patiently.

“I know,” he replied. “But there’s something I’ve learned this season, and that is that important opportunities aren’t always the easiest ones. I’ve been avoiding speaking clearly to you because I didn’t want to make things more complicated for you. But if I’m honest, I can’t pretend that I don’t care about you.”

The seriousness in his eyes left you speechless. He wasn’t the usual Max, arrogant and competitive; he was someone vulnerable, showing a part of him that was rarely seen. And although a part of you wanted to keep putting up barriers, another, deeper part of you was starting to give in to his words and his sincerity.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

“What happened with Lando was difficult… and I don’t want you to be just a distraction, Max.” It wouldn't be fair to either of you.

He took a step closer, not invading your personal space, but enough for you to feel his presence more intensely.

"I'm not someone who'll settle for being a distraction," he said with a slight smile, but his tone was firm. "What I feel for you is real. And if you give me the chance, I'm willing to show you that I'm someone you can trust."

His words enveloped you, making you feel a warmth and security that you hadn't experienced in a long time. The hardness of the breakup with Lando was still present, but Max's presence offered you an alternative, a chance to rediscover what you really wanted and, perhaps, to be happy in a fuller sense.

After a few seconds of silence, you took a breath, letting your own emotions take control.

"I don't know what will happen after all this..." you murmured, looking at the floor for a moment before looking up and meeting his gaze. "But I think I'm willing to see where this takes us."

The smile on his face was almost imperceptible, but his eyes shone with a mix of determination and tenderness.

“Then I’ll start showing it from now on,” he said, taking your hand gently. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, I just want you to know that I’m here for you. No matter how long it takes.”

After that brief exchange with Max, he said goodbye with a wink and walked away, leaving behind a feeling of anticipation that you couldn’t shake. You watched as he walked towards the Red Bull paddock, surrounded by his team, while you stood still for a moment, trying to clear your thoughts.

You decided it was time to move as well. You walked through the paddock area, the hustle and bustle around you. Drivers, engineers and journalists came and went, all focused on their own roles.

Suddenly, you saw him. Lando was up ahead, briefly chatting with one of the McLaren mechanics. He turned slightly, and for a moment, his eyes met yours. It was an instant, there was no smile, no nod of recognition, just eye contact that spoke of everything beneath the surface. He seemed distant, almost cold, and before you could say anything, he looked away and kept walking.

You stood still, feeling a knot form in your stomach. That small gesture, or lack thereof, hit you harder than you expected. You knew Lando was in his zone of concentration, but you couldn’t ignore the growing emotional distance that seemed to exist between you since you arrived in Qatar.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to keep walking, telling yourself that you couldn’t read too much into a simple glance. But the awkwardness remained.

As you left the paddock area you went straight to the VIP area to watch the race. The race was certainly a spectacle from the start. Max started from pole, while Lando started from second position.

From the first lap, Max took the lead, controlling the pace with ruthless precision. Behind him, Lando followed closely, pushing at every opportunity. But as the laps progressed, it became clear that Red Bull had fine-tuned their car to perfection. Max seemed untouchable.

Lando, however, was not giving up. He kept fighting, looking for every millimetre of advantage, every opportunity to close the gap. Until lap 38 came around. It all happened in the blink of an eye. In the fast corner before the main straight, Lando's car lost grip. Perhaps a miscalculation or just bad luck, but the McLaren hit the wall with a sharp impact. The yellow flag waved immediately, and your heart skipped a beat.

From your spot, your eyes were fixed on the giant screen, watching anxiously. Lando got out of the car quickly, waving his hands to indicate that he was okay, but you could see the frustration in his every move. He was furious.

As the McLaren team scrambled to pick up the remains of the car, the race continued. Max continued to dominate, and with each lap, his victory became more inevitable. Finally, he crossed the finish line in first place, securing the race win. Fireworks lit up the sky, and the Red Bull team erupted in celebrations.

When it was all over, you headed towards the McLaren paddock, where you saw him surrounded by his team, his face grim and his brow furrowed. There was no trace of the carefree smile he normally wore.

As he spoke to his engineers, you locked eyes with him for a brief second. He looked exhausted, not just physically, but emotionally. But he didn't say anything, and neither did you. Without exchanging words, you turned around and began walking towards the exit.

The day had been intense, and you needed time to process it all. You took a cab back to your hotel, watching the city lights flicker through the window as you sank into your thoughts. Lando was fine physically, and that was the most important thing.

Once in your room, you kicked off your shoes and dropped into bed. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions: worry about Lando, what you had talked about with Max, and a growing confusion within yourself. You picked up your phone and left it on the nightstand. You didn't know whether to expect a text from Lando or Max. Or maybe neither.

You sighed and closed your eyes.

You had barely laid down when the glow of your phone illuminated the darkness of the room. For a moment, you thought it might be Lando, perhaps to talk about what happened at the race, but when you saw Max’s name on the screen, your heart skipped a little.

Max: “I hope you’re okay after all the drama today. Listen, I was thinking… I’m going home to Monaco to rest before the next season. How about you come with me? It’d be great to have you here.”

The message was direct and blunt, typical of Max. You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling slightly on the keyboard. The proposal took you by surprise, but at the same time, there was a part of you that had anticipated it.

You knew that accepting that invitation would involve much more than a simple vacation. It wasn't just the getaway to Monaco, it was everything that it meant: getting away from Lando once and for all from your own doubts, and facing the growing attraction you felt for Max.

You bit your lip, thinking of all the possible consequences. But then, your fingers began to move almost of their own volition.

You: "I don't know if it's a good idea, Max. This is all complicated."

It wasn't long before he responded.

Max: “Complicated? Maybe. But sometimes the complicated is the most exciting. You don't have to decide now. Think about it. I promise it will be an unforgettable trip."

You closed your eyes, trying to calm your heartbeat. The silence of the room surrounded you, but your thoughts were chaos. You could imagine Max in his suite, confident and relaxed, waiting for your answer as if he already knew what it would be.

Several hours passed, with the conversation on hold. Finally, you found yourself typing something you didn't think would come out of you.

You: "Okay. I'll go. But only because I need a break, and Monaco sounds like a good place to clear my mind."

His reply came almost instantly.

Max: "Yeah, sure, just for that, but perfect. You won't regret it. Let me know when you get there and I'll take care of everything.”

You stared at your phone after reading those words, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You had made a decision that could change everything, and while a part of you was scared, another couldn't wait to see what that vacation would bring.

The day of your flight to Monaco came faster than you expected. You had been tossing and turning in bed all night, thinking about what this new stage meant. Max had been clear in his invitation, and although you were hesitant at first, you couldn't help but feel excited about the trip. What started as a simple getaway to relax had turned into an opportunity to get to know a different side of Max. A side that until now you had only seen from afar.

You took an early morning flight, without looking back. As the plane flew through the sky, you immersed yourself in thoughts about everything you had left behind.

You arrived in Monaco around afternoon, and the airport was full of tourists, celebrities, and important figures. The warm, salty Mediterranean air mixed with the hustle and bustle of the people, and you could feel the vibrant energy emanating from the city streets.

You picked up your suitcase and quickly headed to the car Max had arranged for you. You knew you couldn't miss a second of this glamorous city, and you felt a little nervous. What did Max expect from you? How would all this change after a few days in his company?

The car drove through the narrow, elegant streets of Monaco, passing by the famous casinos, luxury yachts, and hills overlooking the sea. The scenery was stunning, as always, but even more impressive was what you felt when you thought of Max waiting for you.

When you arrived at Max's residence, a luxurious apartment overlooking the port, a butler greeted you with a smile and led you to the door. The suite was everything you had imagined: modern, spacious, and with a stunning view of the sea and yachts. The decor was elegant but warm, with touches of wood and soft colors. It wasn't just any place; it was a place designed for someone like him, someone accustomed to perfection.

You left your suitcase on the bed and looked at the clock. You knew Max had to be nearby. Not even ten minutes had passed when you heard the door open. You turned around and there he was, Max, with his characteristic air of confidence, but with something different in his gaze. It was as if, for a moment, everything was just for the two of them.

"Do you like the place?" he asked, approaching with a smile on his face.

��It’s… amazing,” I replied, looking around, trying to hide how nervous I felt.

Max took a step towards you, his gaze locked on yours, and although he seemed relaxed, there was something about his posture that gave away his interest. There was a spark in his eyes, something that made your heart beat a little faster. He moved even closer, and before you could react, his hands rested on your waist.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to come, but I’m glad you agreed,” he said quietly, almost as if he was reading your thoughts.

You were in the heart of Monaco, and although the surroundings were luxurious and surrounded by powerful people, all that really mattered at that moment was the silent connection you shared with Max.

“What do we do now?” you asked, the nervousness starting to dissipate a little.

“Whatever you want,” Max replied, with a mischievous smile. “But, if you ask me, I think we could start with dinner.”

Before you could say anything else, he took you by the hand and led you through the apartment, into the open kitchen.

Max’s kitchen was just as modern as the rest of the place, with white marble surfaces that reflected the warm light from the lamps. Max began pulling fresh ingredients out of the fridge, inviting you to join him without thinking twice. At first, you were hesitant, but something in his eyes invited you to stay.

“Do you know how to cook?” you asked as you watched him pull out tomatoes, basil, and olive oil.

Max smiled mischievously, a glint in his blue eyes. “I know a little. But only if you don’t mind getting your hands a little dirty.”

You laughed at the idea. “I’m not a chef, but I can try.”

And so, between laughs and small jokes, they began to prepare dinner together. Max had decided to make fresh pasta with homemade pesto, one of his favorite dishes. While he was busy with the pasta, you took care of the salad, chopping vegetables and arranging the ingredients carefully. It was a simple, but shared moment, and the dynamic between the two of you felt natural, as if you had been doing this for years.

As the preparation progressed, the distance between you disappeared. Max gently guided you, giving you instructions on how to handle the ingredients, his hands sometimes brushing yours as you passed utensils or adjusted something in the pot. The conversation flowed easily, and you realized that, without thinking about it, you felt more comfortable with him than you had ever imagined.

When the pasta was ready, Max served it elegantly on two large plates, and together you sat at the table, enjoying the view offered by the balcony as the sun began to set behind the hills. The golden light illuminated the room and reflected off the glass, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The table was well set, but the conversation and proximity made everything seem much more intimate than it actually was.

“This is amazing,” you said, taking a bite of the pasta and nodding. “You surprise me.”

Max smiled, with a hint of pride. “I told you, I knew you’d appreciate it.”

The evening continued with laughter and anecdotes, talking about other things, about travel and what you liked to do in your free time. Max seemed genuinely interested in you, in your opinions, in what you thought about the small details of life. There was something so real and accessible about him at that moment, that you completely forgot the fact that, hours before, you had arrived in Monaco with a host of mixed emotions. Now, all that mattered was the present moment.

At the end of dinner, as the plates were empty and the wine glasses were slowly emptying, Max leaned slightly towards you, his gaze locked on yours. The room was quiet, the sound of the distant city, and for a second, it seemed like there were only the two of you left, sharing that space.

“You know?” he said, his voice soft, “I think this has been much better than any dinner I could have planned. I’m happy you came.”

You, without thinking too much about it, smiled and nodded. “I’m happy too. I didn’t imagine it would end like this.”

Max smiled again, and this time, the expression on his face was different. Softer, more approachable. It wasn’t just the confident, competitive Max from racing, but a version of him that seemed more vulnerable, more willing to share something more personal.

The chemistry between you was clear, and for the first time, you realized it wasn't just a superficial attraction. There was something much deeper, something you didn't know if it could be defined with words. But at that moment, there was no need. Being there, with Max, cooking, laughing, and sharing such a simple moment, was all you needed to know.

As the days passed in Monaco, the connection between you and Max became more and more evident.

Mornings were quiet, usually spent touring the city or relaxing on the terrace of his apartment while the sun slowly slipped over the horizon, tinting the sky in golden colors. Max was always around, whether it was to share a coffee in silence or to talk about what he was thinking for the next race. Often, their conversations were light, but there were times when, without warning, Max would drop a phrase or a confession that showed you a side of him you had never seen before.

One day, after lunch together, Max drove you through the mountains surrounding Monaco. As they drove along the winding roads, he began to talk, unprompted, about his life, about what it had taken to become who he was.

“My career isn’t just the podium, you know,” he said, looking out the window as the car moved down the road. “It’s everything I’ve had to leave behind: the parties, the relationships, the sacrifices… There are so many things people don’t see, so many difficult decisions.”

You looked at him with a mix of surprise and admiration. Max had never been a person who opened up easily, always so focused on his goal, so focused on winning and perfection. But now, he was speaking to you with brutal honesty, as if somehow, he had decided to share the deepest part of himself with you.

“I know,” you answered calmly, not knowing what else to say, but you looked at him with genuine understanding. “You’ve been at the center of all this since you were so young.” It’s not easy, and people often don’t understand what it entails.

Max nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the landscape as the car continued on its way.

“That’s why it’s hard to trust people sometimes, you know?” he said, his voice laced with subtle melancholy. “Everyone expects something from you, and sometimes you don’t even know if people like you for who you are, or for what you represent.”

A wave of empathy washed over you. Max had lived a life full of expectations, external pressures, pain, and it wasn’t hard to see how all of that had made him close some emotional doors. But in that moment, it seemed like you had somehow entered his inner circle. You had gotten him to open up, to share something so personal.

What surprised you the most was the way he understood you. It wasn’t just that Max listened to you; he understood you. In every conversation, in every gesture, there was something about him that seemed to sense what you felt, what you needed without you having to explain it with words. He wasn’t like Lando, who, although he had always been affectionate, had never shown that level of deep understanding. Lando had his own way of seeing things, but in his words there was never a place for your dreams or your insecurities. With Max, everything was different.

Max also began to talk about his long-term ambitions, about what he wanted outside of the race track, things that weren’t just achievements, medals or trophies. He told you about his love for family, his desire to form one.

Sometimes, you found yourself watching him as he spoke, unable to help but feel drawn not only to his appearance, but to the vulnerability he had begun to show. This was a different Max, a Max who asked for your opinion and valued what you said, and although he could be competitive and stubborn at times, there was something in his gaze that made you feel important.

And you, of course, couldn't help but share your own thoughts with him. At first, you thought it would be hard for you to open up so much to someone, but with him, everything flowed. You felt free to talk about your goals, about fashion, about your own fears, about your insecurities. Max supported you at all times, without judging or pressuring you, just giving you his unconditional support. The way he looked at you while you talked made you feel like, for the first time, someone really understood you.

That connection was getting stronger, getting more and more impossible to ignore. And you knew, even though you tried to stay rational, that something was changing between the two of you. It wasn't just the chemistry, it wasn't just the shared smiles or the jokes, it was something deeper. Max was becoming someone more than just the Formula 1 driver you admired from afar. And you... you were starting to have feelings for him.

As the days went by and you shared more moments together, from impromptu dinners to walks around the harbor, you realized that Max was showing you a side of him that few knew about, and that side was winning you over in a way you couldn't control. It was such a stark contrast to the relationship you had with Lando, because with him, everything had always been more superficial, more loaded with expectations of what a relationship should be.

With Max, things seemed more real, more natural. And even though you didn't know how he felt exactly, you couldn't help but feel that this moment you shared was something unique.

The air in Monaco felt heavier that day, as if the sun was shining brighter as you walked through the city with Max by your side, enjoying the scenery, but at the same time with a feeling of unease in your chest. Max, noticing your change in mood, looked at you with slight concern.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft, but with the clarity of someone who knew something wasn’t right.

You nodded, trying not to give too much importance to the whirlwind of thoughts forming in your head. You had been dealing with this silently for days, but now, while you were with Max, the doubts and feelings couldn’t be left behind. You decided it was time to face it, even though you didn’t know how he would react.

Just a few minutes later, your phone vibrated in your pocket, interrupting the peaceful walk. Looking at the screen, you saw Lando’s name and felt a pang in your stomach. With your pulse racing, you decided to open the message.

Lando: “I miss you. “I want to go back, I want things to be okay between us.”

A lump formed in your throat as you read the words. You knew he had been trying to reach you, that he still held out hope that things could be like they were before, but something inside you told you it was time to let him go. You knew you couldn’t keep fooling yourself, or Lando, or Max. Everyone’s paths had changed, and even though you had loved Lando at one time, everything seemed different now. The connection with Max was something you couldn’t ignore, a truth that had been growing between you and you could no longer deny it.

With shaking hands, you began typing out your reply. You didn’t want to do it over text, but at the same time, you knew it was the most direct and honest thing to do.

You: “Lando, I appreciate you so much, but we both know our lives are taking different paths. I don’t feel the same way I used to anymore. I’m spending time with Max now… things have changed, and I can’t move on with us. You know what you did and I did it to him.”

The phone stayed in your hands for a second, your heart pounding, and before you could regret it, you hit “send.” The relief was immediate, but it was also accompanied by a soft pain, like a wound that had been slowly closing, but was still bleeding.

It wasn’t even ten minutes before Lando replied to you. The tone of his text was clear: he was hurt, frustrated, and angry.

Lando: “So you’re with Max now, huh? I can’t believe it. I knew something was going on between you two, but this… This doesn’t just hurt me, it’s going to affect our image too. You’re breaking everything we built, everything we had.”

You read those words, and even though they hurt, you knew it was the right thing to do. You knew you couldn’t continue in something that no longer had a foundation, something that had worn away inside. But Lando’s words pierced you like an arrow, and in that moment, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Breaking up with him didn’t just mean letting go of a relationship, but also dealing with the consequences of the decisions you had made.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, and with a firm voice, you answered, knowing that there could be no turning back.

You: “Don't blame me, you were the one who slept with another woman and let the paparazzi catch you. This is the best for both of us, we no longer love each other like we once did.”

As soon as you sent the message, the tension in the air increased. Max, who had been by your side all this time, watched your face with an expression that seemed to understand what had just happened, although without saying a word.

Lando quickly responded, this time with more anger and resentment.

Lando: “You're going to see what's going to happen now. You know that this relationship has given us both so much, but it seems that it means nothing to you. You've left me in the lurch, and now I'm forced to deal with the public image of all this, with everything we've built, just because of one bad decision. Don't call me ever again.”

His final message hit you harder than you expected. It was final closure, and even though deep down you knew you had done the right thing, a part of you felt the weight of the words he had just written. You couldn’t deny that things between you and Lando had changed, but the fury in his message made it clear to you that, at that moment, he couldn’t understand your decision.

Max, seeing that you were tense from the answer, put a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but you had no other choice. You deserve to be happy, and if that means moving on, then that’s what you have to do.”

You turned to him, grateful for his words. His understanding, his calm, was in complete contrast to the intensity of what you had just been through. Deep down in your heart you prayed that Lando wouldn’t do anything but you knew him, you knew how he got when he was angry and you were prepared to read your name and Max’s on the internet the next morning.

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bougiebutchbinch · 21 hours ago

Note

I’m back to talk about transfemme Wade (who I think would refuse to go by Wanda bc “we already have one of them, don’t wanna confuse the fans!”) but in an embarrassing amount of thought so anon-

I feel like she has so many wigs that sit along the wall of their room, one for every occasion (Logan talked her out of getting a massive Miku length one bc she would never take care of it Well enough-), her favorite is the Barbie of just a cute blonde ponytail that sometimes she’d clip colorful strips into. Sometimes she showers wearing a wig for the Euphoria of her bf being pissed there’s a bunch of plastic in the drain- she goes through so many phases of what style she likes, their living room was full of amazon boxes at some point and Logan was ‘forced’ to sit through a fashion show and give his opinions, and while he doesn’t know the difference between Lolita (THE STYLE THE STYLE!!!!) and Harijuku, all he knows is his girl is beaming and rambling a mile a minute and he can’t make himself veto any outfit she shows off. Unfortunately his real favorite look of hers involves the same t shirts and boxers she wore before coming out, no makeup, no wig, face mushed into his chest and just Content as can be. He doesn’t care about her putting on a big effort to look femme (though will always lovingly praise looks so the RSD doesn’t trigger), as long as she’s happy and safe, he’s so lucky to have her 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷 anyways I go ESPLODE NOW thinking of my self ship with her-

WAILS AND RUBS MY FACE ALL OVER THIS LIKE A HAPPY CAT

AWHHHHHHH

she is everything to me. EVERYTHINGGGGG

[UNDER A CUT for discussions of bottom dysphoria - as well as related self-inflicted violence, but in a Poolverine way where violence is consensual and sexy and fun for everyone involved!]

I need her to be happy and to find joy and to have a million wigs and for Logan to love her just as much with them as without them, while bitching something rotten while he pulls the gross wads of plastic faux-hair out the drain

I need her to drape herself over Logan's lap like a happy housecat only Logan's the one who starts (embarrassedly) purring as he strokes her because he's so delighted and comfortable in his life right now~ And Wade is just being VIBRATED by the very loud proof of her boyfriend's love of her.... And she is smiling the GOOFIEST grin while Logan turns bright red!

I need her to turn to Logan after a long day of murder and they start pulling voraciously at each other's clothes - only Logan freezes STARSTRUCK because. Damn. And Wade's kinda confused and a bit self conscious, but tries to hide it under jokes until Logan says in this gruff, choked voice - "You look so fucking good in red" and she looks down to see where she's pulling off her costume and she's just fucking covered in this glossy red satin dress of her own blood ❤️

(And Logan maybe buys her a long red evening dress that she's probably never gonna have occasion to wear, but he's flushing so much when he presents it that he almost matches the colour, and he wants to see her in it so bad, and whenever Wade wears it around the house just casually, she gets picked up and fucked against the nearest wall lmao)

I need Logan dipping her effortlessly in a kiss, and she feels so fucking weightless in his arms ❤️

I need them baking together before Laura comes around and they both keep burning shit but they're laughing and having a good time and there's a smudge of flour on Wade's nose and Logan is imploding internally over how cute she is

I also need her to casually say to Logan one day when the Bottom Dysphoria is particularly bad, 'hey can you chop off my dick while fucking me and then just keep chopping it off whenever it tries to grow back??' and Logan is like 'what the fuck babe' and 'I have a vague sense that I shouldn't enable this' and 'babe are you fucking sure' and Wade is like 'yeah I get off on pain and that would make me very very happy, plus it will do no lasting damage <3' and Logan is like 'OOKAY I GUESS' and then they have fun horrific bloody mutilation sex that would look absolutely awful to anyone else but is actually very tender and affirming and cute

#poolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #wade wilson #deadpool x wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine #deadclaws #peanutbub #violence #tw blood #tw gore

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sunny44 · 3 days ago

Text

Chapter 4 (Love is in Mallorca)

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Y/n goes to Mallorca intending to leave her life behind, at least for a while. Then she meets a mysterious guy who makes this trip, to say the least, unforgettable.

Previous chapter

I woke up with the sun shining intensely through the curtains, announcing another hot day in Mallorca. I rolled over in bed, the sheets tangled around me, and stared at the ceiling. The previous night’s encounter still echoed in my mind like an unfinished melody. With every moment I spent by his side, the feeling that something important was being kept a secret grew, and his silence was starting to weigh on me.

I sighed, slowly getting out of bed. The reflection in the mirror showed a lighter version of myself, someone rediscovering joy in small moments, but also a woman in conflict. Being with him was like walking a tightrope, not knowing when or if I would fall.

As I dressed in something light for the heat of the day, my phone vibrated on the bedside table. It was a message from him. My heart raced automatically. I hated myself a little for it.

“Breakfast? I found a place you’ll love.”

I smiled at the screen. Even with all the uncertainty, there was something in his words that made everything feel simple. It was as if, no matter how complicated the mystery surrounding him, he still wanted to show me the best side of life. And I was willing to accept that — at least for now.

“I’ll be ready in 20 minutes,” I replied, feeling a wave of excitement swell in my chest.

He was waiting for me outside the hotel, leaning against a motorcycle I hadn’t seen before. As I approached, he smiled, a relaxed and confident smile, as if we were about to embark on another little adventure.

“Are you taking me for a ride on a motorcycle now?” I asked, laughing and raising an eyebrow.

“That’s right. I thought the view would look even better this way,” he replied, smiling.

He came closer to me, and carefully, without breaking eye contact, he placed the helmet on me.

Carlos climbed onto the bike, and I sat behind him, my arms hesitating for a second before wrapping around his waist. The contact was electric, but I forced myself to relax, letting the morning breeze carry away the doubts that still lingered in my mind.

The journey was just as he promised: filled with breathtaking views of the island, cliffs that dropped straight into the blue sea, and winding roads that seemed to take us away from everything. The smell of the sea, the sound of the waves, and the thrill of the motorcycle all mixed together, creating a feeling of freedom.

Finally, we arrived at a small seaside village, where he parked the bike. There was a discreet café, hidden among large leafy trees that offered a pleasant shade. The tables were set outdoors, facing the sea. It was the kind of place you’d only find if you were a local or… someone who truly knew the heart of the island.

We sat at a table with a direct view of the water. The aroma of fresh coffee mingled with the salty air, and the sound of the waves crashing on the nearby beach was calming.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, calling the waiter.

“It’s amazing, as always,” I replied, watching him more closely. He was relaxed, but there was something in his eyes that seemed distant. As if, even in that perfect moment, he was hiding something. “How do you always know the best places?”

He smiled, that reserved smile I was beginning to understand hid more than it revealed.

“I like to explore, and Mallorca has a lot to offer.” He turned his gaze toward the sea, and something in his expression changed. A silence formed between us, thick and almost palpable.

I couldn’t help it. I had to ask, I needed to understand.

“Why do you always seem to avoid talking about yourself?” The words escaped before I could stop them. “I don’t want to be intrusive, but… sometimes it feels like you’re hiding something. Something important.”

He turned to me, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that caught me off guard. The silence that followed was suffocating, and for a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“It’s not that I want to hide,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “It’s just that sometimes, when people know who you are… they see you differently and expect things from you. And I like how you see me now. No labels and no expectations.”

That answer, though evasive, made me understand more than he intended. Whoever he was, he was someone who dealt with judgments, expectations, and perhaps even fame. And he was trying to escape it, at least for a while. With me.

“I think I understand,” I replied softly. “But… you know I’m not the type to judge, right? Whoever you are.”

He gave a sad smile, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to say more, that he was on the verge of telling me everything. But, as always, he held back.

“Let’s enjoy breakfast,” he said, changing the subject with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I promise the coffee here is the best you’ll ever taste.”

And so, once again, the mystery remained. As we ate and chatted about trivial things, the invisible tension between us continued to grow. He wanted to tell me, I knew it. But something was holding him back.

When we finished breakfast, he suggested a walk on the beach. We strolled side by side, with the sun shining high above and the sea gently lapping at the sand. For a while, it felt like we were in our own world, no rush, no worries.

But as the afternoon wore on, the doubt began to weigh on me again. I wanted to know him, wanted to understand who he really was. And I knew that eventually, I would need to push this conversation. But, for now, I decided to give him more time.

In that moment, as we walked along the beach, I realized that, regardless of what I would come to discover about him, I was already deeply involved. Perhaps even more than I cared to admit.

And him? He seemed to know that too.

Still, the silence between us continued, and with it, the weight of what remained unsaid.

Whatever came next, I knew it would change everything.

Bonus scene!

Privy/n Instagram stories

“I’m having the best vacation ever”

@lieslostinsilence @iloveallmyboys @r4zberrygirl @hoya122 @sid-is-gr8 @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @barcelonaloverf1life @dark-night-sky-99 @willowsnook @thegirlamongthestars

Next chapter

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trippinsorrows · 10 hours ago

Text

ltye: in your hands

authors note: welp. here i am, once again. we're back with yet another 'what if' scenario, prompted by you lovely people in an ask that i can't seem to find to link right now. smh.

words: 3.3k

warnings: none. just sam being sam.

song inspo: in your hands by halle

Roman should have stuck with his first mind. Stayed home. Texted her some excuse about being caught up with work. She would have never found out the truth, and even if she did, he wouldn’t have given two fucks.

Because this shit doesn’t seem to be getting any better.

This dating thing.

It’s gotta be at least the fifth or sixth one he’s taken her on, and each one has been just as miserable up until the point where he gets her on her knees, gagging or bouncing on his dick the minute they get back to his penthouse. Anything before that has been irksome, borderline miserable.

Samantha is stunning. Has been since they were kids, and her body is the most desirable of the women he has on his roster. She leans on the thinner side of what he prefers, but the tits and ass are decent, regardless. She’s also just as kinky as him, which is why they’ve worked all these years.

But, the more “dates” Roman forces himself to power through, the more he’s starting to feel like bedroom activities is where it stops for them.

Technically, he’s always known this. Even if he did have some level of desire to be in a real relationship with someone, which he doesn't, it would never be her. She’s vain, condescending, and seems to think she’s somehow better than the other women he fucks with.

If only she realized he views her just like he views the rest of the women. A warm body with a wet cunt to help him get his dick wet.

“Roman!” Her voice cuts through his inner dialogue as he focuses on her cleavage. The dress she wore, short and tight, doesn’t help his desire to skip to the fucking part of this evening. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No.” Roman sees no sense in lying to her. “I probably don’t care either.”

She rolls her eyes and proceeds to continue like he literally didn’t just tell her he doesn’t care. “I was saying we should go somewhere.”

He’s partially intrigued now. Mostly because he’ll probably need to set her ass straight. “Where?”

She smiles and shrugs. “I don’t know. I was thinking Bora Bora.”

He shakes his head. “So go.”

She frowns, clarifying. “I said we should go, Roman.”

He scoffs, looking off at the ice sculpture in the middle of the upscale restaurant. A waste of money, in his opinion. “What the hell makes you think I have time to go to fucking Bora Bora with you?” He really wants to ask her what makes her think he would want to in the first place, but he’s trying to be somewhat less of an asshole to see if maybe this could work.

His Wise Man’s nervous voice balanced out with sage wisdom returning to the front of his mind.

“If the Elders are to force you into a marriage, why not with someone you already know? Especially someone who you know would have no issue in giving you an heir.”

If only Samantha wasn’t so fucking annoying.

She leans back in the chair. “You make time for these dates.”

Out of obligation. But, he won’t say that. “Yeah, but I can get my nut and send your ass packing in the same night. Can't do that if we're out of the fucking country.”

“You’re suck a di—”

“I’m so sorry.”

Soft. It’s the first thing that comes to mind hearing her voice. Light, almost. Kind. Even with just three words being spoken. And that’s just based off audio. Visually, Roman’s thoughts take an entirely different direction.

Stunning.

Roman’s seen, entertained, and done a lot more with some beautiful women in his time, but the one standing at their table seems to have something more than all of them put together. She’s beautiful, easily one of the most gorgeous women he’s ever laid eyes on. And her smile, small but genuine makes him pause. As does her body.

She’s wearing the same uniform he’s noticed on the other waitresses, but none of them fill them out like she does. The white, long sleeved shirt that’s tucked into the knee length black pencil skirt can’t hide the curves he can practically see through the bland outfit. Nice, heavy breast. Curvy hips, thick thighs and an ass he can partially see from the front.

This. This is his preferred body type. A woman who has something he can grab onto when he’s fucking her from behind. And Roman can only imagine what it would be like to be holding onto those luscious hips of hers while he—

“Oh my god, are you stupid?” Samantha’s annoying voice once again pulls him from his carnal fantasies. She gestures between herself and him. “Can you not see we’re in the middle of something?”

The girl, who Roman would guess is in her late twenties, early thirties at most, immediately looks repentant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—I was just going to apologize for your wa—”

“Whatever.” Samantha lifts her hand, silencing the girl who’s now looking down at her shoes, clearly embarrassed. “What’s the special for this evening?”

“What’s your name?” Roman’s question comes out at the same time as Samantha’s inquiry. However, his voice clearly presents with more of a commanding nature.

She swallows. “S–Solana.”

Pretty. Just like her.

Samantha notices the way Roman is looking at her and is fully confused as to why he’s asking this fat troll for her name. She cuts in again, in that same nasty tone. “Hello? I asked you a question.”

Solana is clearly struggling with Samantha’s aggressiveness, Roman wondering why this bitch is directing whatever unresolved feelings she has onto this innocent girl. “Umm, I think—”

Samantha scoffs, nose turned up. “You’re our waitress, and you don’t even know what the evening special is?”

“No ma’am, I do. I’m sorry. It’s just—it’s been a long day.” There’s a weight to her words, a sadness in her voice and in her pretty brown eyes. Roman notices all of these things and finds himself wondering what the story is. Everyone has one, and hers is suddenly of interest to him. For reasons he cannot understand.

“Pretty unprofessional to bring up your personal life, don’t you think?”

Solana closes her eyes, pausing before answering. She looks exhausted. Mentally and physically. “It’s Squab. That’s the main co—”

“I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat.” Roman rolls his eyes. This hoe has been saying that since they were in high school, yet every so often she goes back to having a normal fucking diet only to switch back to that salad shit. “What’s on your—”

“I’ll do us both a favor and get her to shut the fuck up.” Roman has had enough, both of Samantha’s grating voice but mostly her being a bitch to this girl for no reason. He’s a dick on the regular. He knows this. But, never has he come across someone like this Solana woman who, with just her presence alone, exudes such softness. Like, she doesn’t have a mean bone in her fine ass body. And she clearly doesn’t because anyone else would have probably lost their job by cussing Samantha out. Not that it wouldn’t be deserved.

Roman catches the faintest hint of a smile on Solana’s face as she redirects her attention to him. “Give her the salmon. I’ll take your best steak. For wine, you carry Madeira?”

She’s pulled out her notepad and finishes taking down the order before answering with a nod. “Yes, sir.”

Roman’s jaw clenches at that sir bit. He could ruin this girl. “What do you recommend?”

She’s visibly taken back by his question, probably by the fact that he’s asking her for her opinion. “Umm—”

“Roman, I can rec—”

“I didn’t ask you,” he cuts that bitch off with the quickness, eyes never leaving the pretty girl before him. “I asked Solana.”

Her smiles widens as she answers in a more confident tone. “Julio Barros…..1950.”

Roman smirks.

Exactly what he was going to order.

“I’ll take it.”

Their gazes linger on each other a second too long for Samantha’s liking as she cuts in once once more. “You can go now.”

Solana’s smile drops again, Roman suddenly finding himself all annoyed. Her smile is something pretty that he wouldn’t mind seeing more of, though that irritation is waned as he’s granted the view of her nice, round ass and curvy hips swaying as she walks to the back to turn in their order.

Samantha reaches over and touches his hand, Roman snatching it back and sneering at her. “What?”

She sighs. “Baby, I’m trying to talk about us.”

And just like that, he’s annoyed all over again. “There is no us.”

Samantha looks sad only for a brief second. “Roman, I’m not stupid. I know what these dates have been for. You’re trying to see if it could work.”

“If what could work?”

“Us.” She goes on to share. “There’s rumors that the Elders have been putting more pressure on you to settle down and make an heir.” Sam leans over the table, intentionally trying to emphasize her cleavage. It’s nice. He’ll give her that. But, he’s certain it’s nothing compared to Solana though and those big breast of her hers. “I can do that for you. Be that for you. Be your wife. The mother of your children.”

Not a damn thing she’s saying sounds even the least bit desirable. At all.

“I mean, we’ve been fucking around since we were kids. Why not make it official?”

For a lot of reasons. All the reasons. The main one being Roman don’t like this bitch unless she’s choking on or riding his dick.

What he does like, however, and finds solace in is the interactions with Ms. Solana as the evening goes on. They’re not very often outside of her bringing the bottle of wine and their food when it’s ready as well as a check-in here or there on how they’re doing.

Each time Samantha sending her the dirtiest look or just being an ol’e nasty bitch, to which Roman shuts down, cutting her off and even telling her to shut the fuck up.

The girl is just trying to do her damn job. And as his eyes locate and land on her on several different occasions, he can see that she works hard. Moving from table to table, almost saddened facial expression indicates she’s on the receiving end of more verbal lashings from people like Samantha.

That actually pisses him off, Roman having to control and stop himself from doing some out of pocket shit.

Again, for what reason, he hasn’t the slightest clue. He just knows those brief glimpses of her actually smiling, usually when she’s chatting with a coworker, do something for him.

Maybe even to him.

And unbeknownst to him, the intrigue goes both ways, because as shitty a day Solana Miller was having, the handsome stranger with the rude girlfriend or wife or whatever has somehow, someway made this day just a little bit better.

It’s been some time, if ever, Solana has come across someone with such a presence about them. Him dining at this uppity restaurant she was able to score a job at tells her that he’s wealthy. His disposition and the fact that he somehow secured it to where the surrounding tables of where he sits have been marked as unavailable tells her that he has pull. But, the way he interacts with her, a literal nobody, she’s not sure what that means.

Especially with the beautiful woman he’s with, because while Solana thinks she’s every bit a bitch as most of the women who come into this place, she’s a stunning bitch.

Which is why Solana can’t allow herself to believe that that equally beautiful looking man is looking at her in any sort of capacity.

There’s no way in he—

“Solana.”

And just like that, she's frowning again. “Mami?”

The last thing she expected to see this evening was the sight of her mother, already dressed in her scrubs, baby in her arms.

Solana’s baby.

Her 11-month–old daughter, Soraya.

The shock wears off as Nina gets closer, Solana shaking her head, “what are you—”

Nina shakes her head, face apologetic and tone contrite. “I’m so sorry, baby, but I got called into work. I can’t watch Raya.”

Shit

It's inconvenient, but Solana understands it. She remembers the countless times Nina had no other option but to leave her with a neighbor after being called into work at all kinds of hours. She’s always worked so hard to take care of the two of them when Solana was growing up.

“It’s okay, mama.” Solana easily reaches for her daughter, a wave of relief and happiness washing over her as she holds and kisses her baby. The source of all her joy. All of the struggle, every bit of it, is worth it as long as she has her daughter. She’d do anything for her. “How was she?”

Nina gives a small chuckle. “She’s like you were and still are. An easy child.” Solana kisses Soraya’s temple. “Sol…..” And just like that, Solana already knows she’s probably not going to like what she’s about to hear. “I know you’ve said you don’t want to go after him for child support, but it’s not fair for you to be out here working two jobs while putting yourself through school to take care of his child.”

Solana holds Soraya just a smidge tighter. “She’s my baby, mami.”

Nina counters. “She’s his biological child.” Solana looks away, hopeful her manager, Aldis, doesn’t come out and scold her for this little interaction. She’s scheduled to clock out in another half hour anyway. “He should be paying you child support.”

Her mom is right. Solana knows this, knows that it’s not fair for her to have to be the sole provider for her baby girl, while Cruz lives his best life as an absentee, deadbeat dad. And she’s considered on several occasions going to the courthouse to see what she needs to do to get that ball rolling.

But, every time, she’s haunted by something he said the last time they spoke, not even a month after her daughter was born.

“Don’t you get it? We were fine before she came in the picture! We could be fine again if she wasn’t.”

Solana’s never been more disturbed than she was to hear those words leave his mouth. That’s why she’s glad he’s gone, that he wants nothing to do with her or his child. Because she would never trust to leave her baby girl with him in the first place.

And if that means she does it without him contributing financially, that’s exactly what she’ll do.

Solana shifts Soraya from one hip to the other. “I don’t need him, mami.” And she doesn’t. Because if Solana had to resort to sex work to take care of herself and her daughter, it’s exactly what she’d do.

Nina gives a heavy sigh. “Mija, you know I help you when I can.”

“I know.” Because she does. But, the same way that times are hard for her. They’re hard for her mom, too. Everyone’s struggling these days, it seems. Everyone except the rich people who wine and dine without a care in the world around them. “I’ll be okay.”

Always will be.

Nina gives a knowing nod, hugging her daughter and gently taking her granddaughter’s hand, kissing it, speaking in Spanish. “I’ll see you later, okay? Abuela loves you.”

Solana smiles. “Thanks, mama.”

“Always, baby.”

Nina reaches Solana the diaper bag, Solana placing it on the bar stool, knowing it’s bound to be left alone. These rich ass people would never bother with the Ross purchase. With a final parting smile, Nina is off to the hospital, leaving Solana with her daughter who’s just now waking up.

“Hi, baby girl,” Solana giggles at the almost cranky expression on her baby’s face. Raya is definitely not the happiest camper when being woken up.

A glance at the time reminds Solana that she technically is still on the clock and really shouldn’t have her child with her. But, with no other option, she accepts she’ll just have to clock out early and take whatever those consequences are.

But before that, the least she can do is grab the bill from the table where the handsome stranger and his girlfriend sat. She’s briefly disappointed to see the table empty, even if she remembers his deep voice thanking her for her assistance this evening as she brought them that same check earlier.

It’s a silly thing, really. And she tries to push away the disappointment at not properly telling him goodbye. A stranger.

Silly.

Soraya grasps at the collar of her shirt while Solana walks over to the table, pausing as she gets close enough to see that there’s more than just a bill with a signature. There’s cash. A stack of it. Money in hand, she’s confused, because this man paid with a black card, so what—

“Good.”

Solana gaps and spins around, her eyes widening as she looks up. He’s a lot taller than she realized, burly body nearly eclipsing her view of anything else, silky black hair in such a neat, perfect bun. “Wanted to make sure you got it.”

Brows furrowed, it’s hard for her to speak for a lot of reasons. One of which is the fact that this man cannot be real. A man cannot be this handsome. But, he is real, and he’s looking at her.

And Soraya.

“I—” She shakes her head, clearing her throat. “Is this—you already paid—”

“That’s not for the bill,” his voice is so velvety, smooth, and deep. “It’s your tip.”

Eyes widening, her gaze snaps to the wad of cash as Soraya continues to grasp and squeeze her shirt. She doesn’t even need to count to know that this is a nice amount of money.

Too much.

“I can’t—it’s too much.”

He chuckles, “do I look like I can’t afford it?” Her eyes roam over his big, muscular build dressed in fine, expensive looking clothes. He just oozes wealth.

And power.

“N–no.”

“Dealing with Samantha, trust me, you earned it.” Solana looks down, wanting to hide her small smile. His gaze redirects to the child in her arm. “Who is this?”

And just like that, Solana’s proud smile returns. “My daughter, Soraya.” It’s like Soraya knows she’s being discussed, lifting her little head to look at Roman. A big grin on her face before she buries her face into Solana’s neck.

Roman makes a sound, and she can almost swear she sees the smallest smile on his handsome face. “She looks like you.”

That creates such a warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach, “thank you…..”

He looks at her a bit confused, like her unspoken question surprises him, before answering. “Roman.” Roman. “Roman Reigns.”

Roman Reigns. Even his name is powerful.

It fits him.

Solana shifts Soraya around as she starts to get wiggly in her arms. “Well, thank you, Mr. Reigns.” She’s certain the shock of just how much money this random, rich stranger has given her hasn’t truly set in. Because if it had, she’d have a much more visceral response.

A lot more.

“Roman,” he corrects. “Call me Roman.”

“Roman….”

Something indecipherable flashes in his eyes, something that makes her feel a bit unnerved under his intense stare. It’s broken, however, by her now irritated daughter.

“Mama.” Soraya makes her dissatisfaction at being still for too long known by punching her tiny fist against Solana’s chest. “Mama!”

“Shhhhh,” Solana kisses her temple, trying to quiet her down before someone makes Aldis aware of her presence. She looks at Roman, eyes softening, “thank you again.”

Truly. Honestly. He hasn’t the slightest clue how much this will help her. It’s why she can stand here without anxiety and concern about making it to the bus stop on time. Tonight.....tonight she’ll treat herself and her baby with calling an Uber instead.

Might even stop and pick up dinner.

Roman nods, eyes briefly glancing at her daughter again, the smallest smile on his face. “I’ll see you later, Solana.” His head dips a bit in acknowledgment towards her baby. “Soraya.”

The smile is plastered on her face even as he walks off without another word. And it’s only a good two minutes later that she catches onto what he said. A certain word in particular standing out the most.

What did he mean by later?

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isak-dot-gov · 2 days ago

Text

Centre Stage

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Majorette Dancer!Reader

Word count: 1179

My Masterlist :)

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Rhea had always been supportive of everything you did, but when it came to your dancing, she hadn’t yet had the chance to see you perform live. She had heard enough stories from your friends, fans, and even some of her own wrestling buddies about how incredible you were—like the Camryn Harris of your generation, but with a signature style all your own. Your reputation as a majorette dancer had grown over time, and the buzz around you was impossible to ignore. Every time you practised, every time you took the stage, people took notice. Tonight was the semi-final competition for your team, and Rhea, for the first time, would be there in the crowd.

The day of the competition arrived with all its chaotic excitement. You were backstage, surrounded by your team, your coach giving last-minute pep talks as everyone adjusted their shimmering uniforms and got into the zone. The energy was palpable, and so was the pressure. This wasn’t just another performance—it was the semi-finals of a national championship, and the eyes of the crowd were upon you. But this time, it wasn’t just any crowd.

Rhea had arrived early, wanting to get a good seat but also not wanting to draw too much attention. With her hoodie up, she slipped into a seat near the front, close enough to get the best view but far enough back to blend in. Though she might have been a wrestling powerhouse, at this moment, she was just your biggest fan. She watched as the venue filled with excited spectators, many of whom were talking about you and your team. She even spotted a few posters with your face on them. The thought of you being such a star in this world filled her with pride—and anticipation. She was finally going to see what all the hype was about.

Meanwhile, backstage, you were focused. Your teammates had long since learned to give you space before a performance, knowing how you liked to mentally prepare. You could hear the muffled noise of the crowd, feel the vibrations of the music already playing for other teams as they competed. But you weren’t nervous—not exactly. You thrived under this kind of pressure. And knowing Rhea was out there, watching for the first time, only pushed you harder to give the performance of your life.

As your team was called to the floor, you felt the familiar adrenaline rush hit. The bright lights, the booming music, the roar of the crowd—all of it hit at once. You stepped out with your team, confidence in every step. Your uniform sparkled under the lights, but more than the shine of the sequins, it was the fierce determination in your eyes that captured everyone’s attention.

From her seat, Rhea felt her breath catch as you stepped onto the floor. She knew you were confident, but seeing you like this—commanding the space, full of poise and power—it was something else entirely. The announcer’s voice echoed through the room, building the tension. Then, the music started. A bass-heavy beat filled the arena, and with one sharp snap of your fingers, you and your team began.

Rhea’s eyes were glued to you as you moved, sharp and precise, yet fluid and graceful. Majorette dancing was more than just choreography—it was a whole culture of energy, attitude, and unity. Every move you made was a testament to the hours of practice, to the passion you poured into every routine. The sharpness of your movements, the sync with your teammates, the way you commanded the crowd’s attention—it was magnetic. Even in a group, you stood out. You were a force of nature, your presence undeniable.

As you executed a series of rapid-fire kicks and spins, the audience erupted in applause, but all you could focus on was the beat of the music and the rhythm of your body. Rhea, however, was captivated. She knew what it was like to perform under pressure, to thrive in the heat of the moment, but watching you—it was like seeing a whole new side of you she’d never known. You were fierce, commanding, and unstoppable. Her heart swelled with pride, watching her girl own the stage like that.

The routine was intense, filled with stunts and formations that had the crowd on edge. Rhea found herself on the edge of her seat, clapping and cheering, something she rarely did outside the wrestling ring. She was completely absorbed by the energy you brought to the performance. When you hit the final stunt—a complex series of flips and turns that ended with a dramatic leap into a split—the crowd erupted into deafening cheers. Rhea was on her feet, clapping louder than anyone around her. You’d done it. You’d killed it.

As the routine ended and you held your final pose, the lights dimmed, and the applause filled the room. You were panting, a mix of sweat and adrenaline making your skin glow under the spotlights. But as your eyes scanned the crowd, they locked onto Rhea’s. Despite the distance, you saw the proud smile on her face, the way she clapped for you with all her heart. That moment, more than anything else, made the performance feel complete.

Backstage, the adrenaline was still pumping as you high-fived your teammates, celebrating the flawless execution. But your mind was already on finding Rhea. As soon as you could slip away from the chaos of the team, you made your way toward where she was waiting.

When you finally saw her, Rhea pulled you into a tight hug, not caring about the sweat or the glitter that now covered her. She was beaming, a rare softness in her eyes as she held you close.

"That was insane," she murmured, her voice thick with admiration. "I knew you were good, but seeing you like that? I’ve never seen anything like it."

You pulled back just enough to look up at her, grinning. "So you liked it?"

"Liked it?" Rhea laughed, her usual tough exterior cracking for just a moment. "Babe, you were incredible. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You’ve got the whole crowd wrapped around your finger."

The weight of her words hit you. Rhea had always been your biggest supporter, but seeing her so genuinely moved by your performance was everything.

"I wanted to give you something special," you admitted softly, "since it was your first time seeing me dance."

"Well, you gave me that and more." Rhea smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I think I’m officially your biggest fan now."

You laughed, pulling her closer again, letting the moment sink in. Tonight had been more than just a competition—it was a connection, a shared experience that brought the two of you even closer. As the sounds of celebration filled the air, you knew that no matter what happened in the finals, this night would be one you’d always remember. Rhea had seen you in your element, and she was in awe. And having her there, seeing her cheer for you, made everything feel perfect.

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#rhea ripley x reader #the judgement day #wwe #mami rhea #rhea ripley

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cheynovak · 3 days ago

Text

Between Power and Freedom

Part 5

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Shurley Female character

Summary: Y/N, the ambitious daughter of a powerful CEO, grapples with her father's choices, while she secretly takes a job with Dean Winchester, the rugged CEO of a rival company. Sparks fly between Y/N and Dean as they navigate their growing attraction amid corporate rivalry and family pressure.

Warnings: This story will contain parts that are 18+!

English is not my first language

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*

I knew I had to come up with something soon before my dad lost his shit. It was only a matter of time before he started demanding answers about my progress with Dean and Winchester industries.

During our last phone call, I had explained how unstable Dean's life was with Jo—how their fights seemed to escalate and how much tension hung over him whenever she was around. I also casually mentioned how Dean had taken me to dinner with the investors and Chuck seemed pleased with the arrangement.

“Good work on that,” my dad had said, his voice cold and calculating. “Get more into Dean’s life. Manipulate him. Let him fall in love with you.”

“Yeah, right, like that’s something I’m capable of,” I shot back, rolling my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. “I have a master’s degree; I’m not Cupid.”

“Doesn’t matter. Figure it out, break it down from the inside ” he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I sighed, feeling the weight of his expectations pressing down on me. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to agree, if only to keep the peace. So I decided to focus on my work like I used to, putting my energy into my job rather than dwelling on the complexities of my feelings for Dean.

Weeks passed, and it became painfully clear that Dean was intentionally putting distance between us. Whenever Jo was around, he acted as if I were air, completely ignoring me while plastering on a smile for her.

I tried to joke or get his attention, hoping to draw out the true Dean I had come to know, but nothing worked. It was like I was shouting into a void, and the more he shut me out, the more frustrated I became.

At work, I kept my head down, throwing myself into projects and trying to prove my worth to Bobby and the rest of the team. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, if I became indispensable enough, Dean would realize he needed me in his life—not just for work, but for something more personal.

But as the days turned into weeks, my attempts felt futile. Whenever Dean and Jo entered the office together, the atmosphere shifted. Jo had a way of commanding attention, her loud laughter and brash comments cutting through the air like a knife. Dean would respond to her every whim, and I was left on the sidelines, watching as the connection I thought we had faded into nothing.

One afternoon, I found myself alone in the break room, pouring a cup of coffee, when Sam walked in. He looked at me with concern, and I knew he could sense the tension in the air.

“Hey, Y/N, everything okay?” he asked, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, just peachy,” I replied, forcing a smile. Sam raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You sure? You’ve been quieter than usual. Is it about Dean?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “It’s never mind." Sam frowned, looking thoughtful. “You know, Dean has a lot going on with Jo. He’s dealing with... his own issues. Sometimes he just needs space.”

Space? I thought, the frustration bubbling over. What kind of space? I’m not trying to invade his life; I just want to be friendly. But it feels like I’m competing with her every single day.

But all I said was "sure".

Sam his voice calm. “He’ll come around when he’s ready. He's a good boss, but his personal life just mingles with work I guess.” I nodded, appreciating his advice but still feeling the sting of rejection. “Thanks, Sam."

As I stood there, staring into my coffee cup, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my situation was only going to get messier. I had a job to do, but my heart was tangled in a web of emotions that seemed impossible to untangle.

That evening, as I sat at my desk, I noticed Jo laughing in the hallway. It was a familiar scene, but tonight it hit harder. I clenched my jaw, feeling a mix of anger and sadness. I didn’t want to be this pawn in my father’s game, nor did I want to be the other woman, vying for Dean’s attention while Jo played the part of the doting girlfriend.

With a deep breath, I decided to focus on my work and push the feelings aside. I had to remind myself that I was capable, that I was more than just a pawn in someone else’s game. But as I glanced at Dean, I couldn’t help but wonder how long I could keep this up without losing myself in the process.

Another dinner at Bobby's made it painfully clear why Dean had changed.

Jo announced to everyone, with a beaming smile, that she was pregnant. I almost choked on my food, a mix of shock and disbelief flooding through me. I forced a congratulatory smile, clapping along with everyone else, but my heart sank.

Dean, on the other hand, seemed anything but pleased. He sat quietly, his expression unreadable, and I could feel the tension radiating off him like heat waves.

The next night, I found myself working late. I had thrown myself into my projects, trying to escape the reality of Dean’s new situation, but my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.

Bobby asked Sam the come back but part time, he wanted me by his side. To share the same title. Sam thought it was a great idea, this way Bobby could train me until his retirement and I would get promoted earlier.

When I decided to leave my office, I noticed a light still on in Dean's office.

I hesitated for a moment before knocking softly on the door. “Hi,” I said, stepping inside. Dean looked up from his paperwork, his brows furrowing as he saw me.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice lacking its usual warmth. He looked downcast, his tie a little lose, his hair messy. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was spiraling. “What are you still doing here?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same thing. Did you have dinner yet?” I inquired, trying to keep my tone light. He sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “No, I tried to work through it, but I can’t seem to focus.”

“Is it Jo?” I ventured, surprised by my own boldness. Dean looked at me, surprise flickering across his face. “You noticed, huh?” I nodded slowly. “It’s just... I’ve seen... You don’t seem really thrilled about everything.”

He leaned back in his chair, the weight of his thoughts evident. “Just between you and me?” he asked, lowering his voice as if the walls themselves could hear.

“Of course,” I replied, stepping closer and closing the door behind me for privacy, even though we were probably the only two people in the building at this hour.

Dean took a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I don’t think I’m ready for kids,” he finally admitted, his voice strained. “I never pictured myself being a father, start a family, let alone with Jo. I just... I feel trapped.”

My heart ached at his words. I wanted to reach out and comfort him, to let him know he wasn’t alone in this turmoil. “Does she know?” I asked softly, afraid of his answer but needing to know.

He shook his head, frustration mingling with confusion. “No. I mean, how could I tell her? She’s so excited about it. I can’t just crush her like that.”

I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “Dean, it’s not just about her. You have to think about what you want too. This is your life, and it’s a huge decision.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I just… I don’t want to let anyone down."

I could see the conflict etched on his face, the struggle between duty and desire. I stepped closer to him, my heart pounding.

He locked eyes with me, and for a brief moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

I felt a surge of hope as his gaze softened. “Still maybe you need to talk to Jo. She deserves to know how you feel, and you deserve to be honest with yourself.”

Dean sighed, his shoulders slumping. “You’re right. I just don’t know how to start that conversation. It’s going to break her heart.”

“I know it’s tough,” I said, my voice steady. He nodded slowly, the weight of my words settling over him. “Thanks, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I felt a warmth spread through me at his words, but I pushed it aside, reminding myself of the boundaries I needed to maintain. “You can always talk to me. I’m here for you,” I assured him.

We stood in silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words. I could feel the tension between us, a mix of comfort and longing, but I knew this wasn’t the right time to explore those feelings.

“How about I order some pizza, and I’ll help you with this?” I suggested, hoping to lighten the mood. Dean’s face brightened, and he nodded gratefully.

“Yeah, that would be great,” he said, pulling out his phone. I quickly ordered a couple of pizzas and settled back into the rhythm of work.

We tackled spreadsheets, analyzed figures, and brainstormed ideas for the upcoming projects. The hours flew by, and soon enough, we were both feeling the effects of long hours and stress.

After we wrapped up, I leaned back in the seat in the corner of his office, taking a deep breath to unwind. I kicked off my shoes, letting my bare feet rest on the table in front of me. Dean looked over with an amused smirk as he walked back with two glasses of bourbon in hand.

“Nice footrest you’ve got there,” he teased, handing me a glass. “Try to wear heels all damn day, you'd do the same,” I replied, laughing softly.

Dean took a seat on the table in front of me, his posture relaxed as he placed my feet gently on his lap. "You know, you don't need to wear heels in this company, right?"

Just as I wanted to answer he started to massage them, his fingers digging into the arches of my feet. Ah soft "hm" left my lips. “Is this okay?” he asked, looking up at me with an expression that was both playful and sincere.

“It’s more than okay,” I replied whispering, feeling the tension melt away with each movement of his hands. “I might need to keep you around for personal massage therapy session.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “I charge by the hour,” he quipped, and we both laughed, the sound filling the otherwise quiet office.

The atmosphere felt easy and cozy, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift. But just as we settled into our little bubble, the door swung open, and Bobby walked in.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Dean and me in such an intimate position.

“No, not at all!” I exclaimed, pulling my feet back into a more appropriate position.

Bobby chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I hope I’m not stepping on any toes here. I’ve got the latest numbers on the project you two were working on.”

Dean straightened up and regaining his composure. “We were just wrapping things up, anyway. What do you have for us?”

Bobby pulled out a folder and laid it on the table, glancing between us with a knowing smile. “Just wanted to make sure you two had everything you needed before the meeting next week. I’ll leave you to it.”

I couldn’t help but feel a mix of warmth and embarrassment. Dean had dropped the playful facade, returning to his professional demeanor, but I could still sense the underlying tension from earlier.

“Thanks for that,” Dean said to me, leaning back against the table, his expression softening. “I really needed it. You know, you’re pretty amazing at keeping my head straight.”

I smiled, feeling a blush creep onto my cheeks. “Just doing what I can. Besides, you’d do the same for me, right?”

He nodded, a hint of seriousness creeping back into his eyes. “Yeah, I would.”

The air was charged with an unspoken understanding. I knew we were both still navigating our complicated feelings, but in this moment, sitting together in the glow of the office light with the smell of pizza in the air, it felt like we were on the verge of something new.

Taglist -> Click here to add

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@mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla

@thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @yvonneeeee

@kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28

@kindollss @muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24

@spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch

@deadlydivergentgirl @livya99 @deansimpalababy @stoneyggirl2

#fanfic #jensen ackles #x reader #jensen fucking ackles #fluff #dean winchester #spn #smut #supernatural dean #deanwinchester #dean #sam and dean #sam winchester

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leona-hawthorne · 1 day ago

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heyyy, i’d like to browse for a book? i’m looking for something… blaise zabini. maybe a mix of fluff and smut?like “if you fuck me the way you fuck me up emotionally, i think you’d do a pretty damn good job at it.” and/or him taking your hand and placing it on his chest. “feel this heartbeat? this is the effect you have on me." luv luv luv ur writing and take all the time u need ✌️✌️

YAYYY i've never written for blaise before so thank u sm for requesting this!!! also I got your other request about you wanting opposites attract so don't worry bb 💝

1k celebration navigation

DEAL?... book browsing

ミ★ BLAISE ZABINI

You could already feel the bass thudding in your ribcage as you stepped into the dark, crowded club, the flashing lights casting a haze over the room. Blaise’s arm stayed protectively around you, his touch warm and steady as he guided you through the jostling crowd. As much as you wanted to blend in, to just enjoy this night with him and his friends, you couldn’t help but feel out of place. Blaise, with his effortless calm and air of fun, looked completely in his element, but every minute you spent here made you feel like you were intruding on a world you didn’t belong to.

For a while, you tried to focus on him, on his low chuckle when one of his friends cracked a joke, or the way he seemed so relaxed, his fingers holding yours reassuringly, the scent of his cologne. But the longer you were there, the more the crowded room started to close in around you, the crush of people pressing in on all sides. You tried to shake it off, telling yourself to be cool, to just enjoy the night for Blaise’s sake. But your hand started to clench around the drink he’d handed you, and you caught yourself glancing toward the door, longing for the fresh air.

He caught you looking around, noticing the slight way you stiffened whenever someone bumped into you. “Hey,” he murmured, leaning close so you could hear him. “You alright?” Blaise’s voice was low in your ear, just loud enough for you to hear over the pounding music. He glanced down at you, his eyes soft but with a hint of amusement, as if he could already tell you were nervous.

“Yeah, of course,” you lied, forcing a smile as you took in the crowd of people pressed together, the smell of drinks and smoke hanging heavy in the air. You didn’t want to spoil his night by letting on how out of place you felt, especially since he seemed to be enjoying himself. “Just a bit loud.”

Still, your shoulders tensed every time someone brushed by too close, and you caught yourself clutching his arm a little tighter than you’d intended.

He noticed immediately. “Hey,” he murmured, leaning down a bit so you could hear him better, “we can go if you want.”

Your stomach dropped. “No, really, I’m fine!” you insisted, hating the idea of being a burden. “Your friends are here, and you don’t have to—”

“Y/N,” he cut in, his gaze softening as he raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have to anything. I want to make sure you’re comfortable. If this isn’t your thing, it’s not a big deal.”

You hesitated, trying to shake off the pang of guilt. “I just… I know you have fun here, and I don’t want to be the one who drags you away.”

His expression shifted, something almost unreadable flickering across his face, and he tilted his head with that soft smile that made your heart stutter. “If you’re not having fun,” he said gently, “then I’m not either. Come on, let’s go.”

That was all the assurance you needed. Within minutes, the two of you had slipped out of the club and into the cool night air. As you drove in silence back to his flat, you tried to organize your thoughts, the guilt from earlier bubbling up again as you replayed the night in your mind.

Once you reached the quiet comfort of his living room, the words tumbled out of you in a rush. “I’m so sorry, Blaise,” you said, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve, not meeting his gaze. “I feel like such a buzzkill. That whole scene… it’s just not really my thing. You must get so frustrated with me sometimes.”

Blaise sighed, moving closer until you couldn’t avoid his eyes anymore. “Frustrated?” he repeated, as if the idea was completely foreign. “If you’re not enjoying yourself, then neither am I. It’s that simple.”

You shook your head, laughing softly despite yourself. “I don’t know, you just… you fit there, you know? You’re so relaxed, like nothing ever phases you. Meanwhile, I’m… just standing in the corner like an idiot,” you sighed. “I didn’t mean to be a killjoy, I just–”

“Hey.” He took your hand, drawing it to his chest, pressing it firmly over his heartbeat. “Feel that?” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “Feel this heartbeat? That’s the effect you have on me. You ground me, even in the middle of all that noise. So, trust me when I say, I don’t care where we are—if you’re there, that’s all that matters.”

For a moment, you could only stare at him, completely taken aback by the warmth and sincerity in his gaze. The steady beat beneath your hand seemed to echo through you, grounding you just as much as he’d said you did for him. In that moment, you realized he wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better. He meant every word.

"Blaise," you whispered, feeling the need to respond, to acknowledge the depth of what he'd just shared. But no words came, because what could you possibly say in return?

Instead, you found yourself leaning in, drawn to him like a magnet. His lips were so close now, tempting you, and you knew if you closed the gap, there would be no going back. Not that you wanted to.

Your pulse quickened as you leaned in closer, the air between you charged with tension. He waited, giving you space to take the lead, but his eyes never left yours, dark and intense. When you spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper, laced with nerves and something deeper, more primal.

“I still feel bad that you had to leave your friends,” you murmured, biting your lip as you held his gaze. “Maybe... maybe I can make it up to you. Another way.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. His breath hitched slightly, a flash of desire crossing his features before he schooled them into a neutral mask. But you could see the effect they had on him, the way his pupils dilated, the subtle tightening of his jaw.

“Is that so?” he replied, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. There was no turning back now. You reached up, trailing your fingers along his jawline, marveling at the smoothness of his skin. His eyes followed the movement, fixated on your touch.

Before you could second-guess yourself, Blaise leaned in, his breath ghosting over your lips as he whispered, "Don't overthink it." Then, slowly, torturously, he closed the distance between you, his mouth finding yours in a tender kiss that sent sparks racing through your veins.

As you melted into each other, the rest of the world fell away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, gazes locked in a silent understanding.

He stepped closer, backing you up against the wall as he dipped his head to brush his lips along the column of your throat. Each press of his mouth sent shivers cascading down your spine, your pulse fluttering wildly under his tongue.

"Tell me what you want," he breathed against your skin, the command laced with promise. His hands skimmed up your sides, thumbs grazing the underside of your tits as he waited for your answer. Blaise was a patient man, but even he had his limits, and right now, he was close to snapping.

"I..." You swallowed hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts. What did you want? Anything. Everything. Him. "I want..."

He paused, pulling back enough to meet your eyes, his own darkened with restrained hunger. "What do you want, Y/N?" he prompted again, slower this time, enunciating each syllable. His voice was rough, gravelly, sending tendrils of arousal curling through you.

"I want you," you managed to gasp out, the admission slipping past your lips before you could stop it. Your body was screaming for his touch, begging to be claimed by him. "Please, Blaise."

At your plea, he growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin as his teeth grazed your collarbone. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, squeezing the flesh through your clothes. "You have no idea how badly I want you."

With a swift motion, he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he pressed you harder against the wall. The hardness of his erection prodded insistently against your clothed core, making you whimper with need.

Without warning, he carried you down the hall, kicking open the door to his room. He tossed you onto the mattress, the springs creaking under your weight as he loomed over you, his eyes roaming hungrily across your form.

Slowly wantonly, he began to undress, peeling off his shirt to reveal the sculpted planes of his chest and abs. Your mouth went dry at the sight, your gaze tracing every dip and curve of his muscles. Next came his pants, sliding down his hips to pool at his feet, leaving him in just a pair of tight boxer briefs that did little to conceal his straining erection.

You felt your mind go blissfully blank, overwhelmed by the sheer perfection before you. Your tongue darted out to wet your suddenly parched lips, your heart thundering in your chest like a wild animal desperate to break free.

When he crawled over you, his muscular body pressing deliciously against yours, you let out a shaky sigh, arching into the contact. But then reality crashed back in, and a wave of nervousness washed over you. "Wait," you breathed, reaching up to gently grasp his arms. "I... You know I've never done this before."

Your cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment as you admitted your inexperience. "What if I'm bad at it?" The question tumbled out, half-hearted and uncertain.

A slow, wicked grin spread across Blaise's face at your confession, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and promise. He dipped his head, trailing kisses along your jaw until his lips hovered mere inches from your ear.

"Honestly, baby," he purred, his warm breath fanning across your skin and making you shiver. "If you can fuck me the way way you fuck me up emotionally, I think you'd do a pretty damn good job at it."

His hand slid down your side, fingers dancing teasingly along the hem of your shirt before dipping underneath to caress the soft skin of your stomach. "Don't worry," he continued, his voice dropping an octave as he pressed a lingering kiss to the sensitive spot just below your earlobe. "I'll teach you. You've always been a fast learner.".

A soft gasp escaped your lips at Blaise's words, your body responding instinctively to his touch, your skin tingling where his fingers brushed against you. The notion that he would guide you, teach you, made your heart race with excitement and anticipation.

"You really think so?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in your tone was evident, but beneath it lay a spark of determination. If Blaise believed in you, then perhaps you could rise to the challenge.

Emboldened by his reassurance, you reached for the hem of your shirt, hesitating for a moment before slowly lifting it over your head and letting it fall to the side. Your breasts, pert and rounded, rose invitingly, nipples already hardened into tight peaks from the cool air and Blaise's heated gaze.

Blaise's eyes darkened with lust as they roamed over your exposed upper body, drinking in the sight of your perky tits and stiff nipples. He licked his lips, his gaze fixated on the art in front of him.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmured, leaning in to capture the tip between his lips. He suckled gently, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud while his hand palmed the other breast, thumb circling the nipple.

As he nursed at you, his other hand slid lower, pushing your skirt up around your hips to expose your thighs. His fingers trailed along the smooth skin, edging closer to your panties with each pass until finally, he hooked them with his index finger and tugged the fabric aside.

"We'll take it slow, I promise," he murmured. "I want our first time to be perfect for you."

A sharp intake of breath hitched in your throat as Blaise's mouth closed around your nipple again, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your breast further into his warm, wet mouth. The gentle suction and flicks of his tongue had you squirming beneath him, your hands grasping at his hair to hold him close.

As his fingers danced along your inner thigh, pushing your panties to the side, you felt a rush of liquid heat dampen your folds. "Fuck, Blaise..."

"Shh, relax, love," Blaise cooed, releasing your nipple with a pop to trail open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent.

One long finger glided through your slick folds, collecting the arousal coating your pussy before circling your clit in lazy strokes. You were absolutely drenched, coating his digits with your arousal. "So wet for me already," he purred, the gravelly undertone in his voice sending shivers down your spine. "I want you so badly, Y/N, he confessed roughly, grinding his clothed erection against your hipbone.” Want to feel this pussy squeezing my cock.”

A low moan spilled from your lips as Blaise's finger entered you, stretching and filling you in ways you'd never experienced before. Your walls clenched reflexively around the digit, drawing it deeper as you rocked your hips against his hand.

"Oh god, yes..." you whimpered, the sensation of his thick finger pumping in and out of your tight hole, combined with the relentless circles he drew around your clit, quickly escalating your arousal to dizzying heights.

"I... I need more," you panted, your nails digging into Blaise's shoulders as you tried to urge him on. "Please, Blaise..."

The desperation in your voice seemed to spur him on, and soon a second finger joined the first, scissoring and stretching you even wider. Blaise groaned at the feeling of your hot, velvety walls gripping his fingers like a vice. He added a third digit, pumping them faster as he watched your face contort in ecstasy.

"That's it, baby, let go," he urged, his thumb rubbing firm circles over your throbbing clit. "Come for me."

Your body tensed, back arching off the bed as the coil of pleasure in your belly snapped, sending you hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion. You cried out Blaise's name, your pussy clamping down on his fingers as wave after wave of intense euphoria crashed over you. He worked you through it, not stopping until the last waves subsided and you collapsed bonelessly against the mattress. Blaise took a moment to admire the flush of satisfaction coloring your cheeks and the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath.

With deft movements, he divested you of your remaining clothing–your skirt and panties joining your shirt in a pile on the floor. His own boxers followed suit shortly after, revealing his thick, hard length standing proud against his abdomen.

Positioning himself between your splayed thighs, he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your gasp as the blunt head of his cock nudged insistently at your entrance.

But then you placed a hand on his chest, halting his progress. "Wait," you whispered, suddenly looking uncertain. "I'm... I'm nervous."

Blaise cupped your face tenderly, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "Hey, just look at me," he said softly, his warm brown eyes locking onto yours. "There's no 'right' or 'wrong' here, alright? It's just us, just you and me."

He brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his touch soothing and reassuring. "We've got all the time in the world, love. We can stop whenever you want, okay?"

Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, pouring all his affection and understanding into the tender contact. "I want this to be special for you, Y/N. More than anything. So we take it at your pace, deal?"

Your heart swelled with emotion at Blaise's words, the sincerity in his voice and the tenderness of his touch easing some of the tension from your body. You nodded slowly, reaching up to caress his cheek.

"Okay," you murmured, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Deal."

With renewed gentleness, Blaise resumed his position between your thighs, the tip of his cock still nestled against your slick entrance. He looked into your eyes once more, seeking permission and reassurance.

"You ready, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "I promise I'll take care of you."

At your nod, he pressed forward incrementally, allowing your body to adjust to his size. Inch by inch, he sank into your warmth, his breathing growing heavier as he savored the incredible feeling of finally being inside you.

Once he was fully sheathed, Blaise paused, giving you a moment to acclimate. Then, with exquisite slowness, he began to move, withdrawing until only the head remained inside before sliding back in, setting a leisurely rhythm designed to ease your nerves.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as Blaise's thickness stretched you open, the initial intrusion causing a fleeting pinch of discomfort before gradually giving way to a pleasurable fullness. As he began to move, you wrapped your legs around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back to draw him in deeper.

Each deliberate thrust sent ripples of sensation coursing through your core, the drag of his cock against your inner walls igniting sparks of pleasure that built with every pass. You arched into him, meeting his slow, sensual pace as you grew accustomed to the intimate connection.

"Mmh... Blaise," you breathed, your hands roaming over his back, nails scraping lightly across his skin. "Feels... amazing."

"That's it, baby," Blaise groaned, his hips rolling in time with yours as he picked up the pace slightly. "Take all of me, love."

He captured your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue twining with yours as he lost himself in the intoxicating taste and feel of you. Each thrust now carried a bit more force, but still with that same meticulous care, ensuring you were thoroughly pleasured rather than simply ravaged.

As he continued to move within you, Blaise broke the kiss to trail his lips along your jawline, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh there. "You're so fucking perfect, Y/N," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "Never felt anything like this before."

Your moans mingled with Blaise's, the sound of your combined passion filling the room as he drove you higher with each powerful thrust. The new pace had you clinging to him tighter, your nails digging into his back as you sought greater friction, more of that incredible pressure building inside you.

When Blaise's teeth grazed your earlobe, you shuddered, a sharp cry escaping your throat. "Blaise..." you whimpered, your hips bucking wildly to meet his now. "Don't stop, please..."

The intensity of your emotions overwhelmed you, and you found yourself teetering on the brink of another climax, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter within your core. "I'm close again," you panted, your voice strained with need.

Blaise's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pounded into you with increasing urgency. "Come on, baby," he urged, his voice a husky growl. "Come on my cock."

He reached down to circle your clit with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you hurtling over the edge. As your orgasm crashed through you, Blaise buried his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his own shout of climax.

Your entire being seemed to fracture apart, shattering into a million brilliant pieces as the most intense orgasm of your life ripped through you. You clung to Blaise desperately, sobbing out his name as the waves of bliss threatened to drown you completely.

In the aftermath, you relaxed back into the soft sheets, utterly spent and sated beyond measure. Blaise rolled to the side, taking you with him so that you lay draped across his chest, both of you struggling to catch your breath.

After several long moments, you lifted your head to gaze up at him, a dreamy smile curving your lips.

Blaise chuckled, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he gazed down at you adoringly. "See? That was so much more fun than being at the club with my friends," he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "Definitely the better choice tonight."

#blaise zabini #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini x you #blaise zabini x y/n #blaise zabini smut #blaise zabini fluff #slytherin boys #harry potter #slytherin #fluff #smut #louis cordice #reece king #book browsing #leona-hawthorne's 1k celebration

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mllemaenad · 8 hours ago

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I really do not understand why Varric is the one pursuing Solas. I mean, I understand the Doylist explanation – Varric is a beloved character who will now have featured in three separate games, as well as multiple novels and comics.

But the Watsonian explanation is not clicking. I did my homework. I sat down and read The Missing, but that did not help at all. In fact, I have now considered my Inquisitor and am completely confident that Dirthara Lavellan's plan for dealing with the Solas problem would absolutely not be "send the ageing viscount of Kirkwall on a months long wild goose chase, with the apparent end goal of ... talking Solas out of his plan".

First, I don't see why Varric would be the most likely person to be able to reach Solas. The Inquisitor herself seems the more reasonable option.

Second, Varric is viscount of Kirkwall, a city-state notorious for setting itself on fire if you take your eyes off it for five minutes. I appreciate Alistair had a few adventures in the graphic novels, and there was that time Maric got lost in the Deep Roads but ... broadly, heading up the "Stop Solas" taskforce is a whole separate responsibility that does not seem to be something you should allocate to a man who has the Worst City in Thedas to rule.

Third ... seriously, the plan is to find Solas and have a chat? That's it? It's clearly it. All through The Missing, they keep noting that they don't really know what they'll do if they actually stumble across Solas. And the backup plan, to which Harding occasionally alludes and at which Varric consistently baulks, is to stab Solas until he stops moving. That one ... also doesn't inspire much confidence.

At this point, I'm not sure what Solas's plan entails or exactly what the outcome will be. I'm not even 100% sure I'm opposed to it. I recognise that the narrative is telegraphing that this is bad but, eh, they say that about blood magic too, and my feelings on that are much more complicated.

Surely, instead of chasing Solas all over the map like a fantasy Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?, we should be researching what his scheme entails, and potentially how to disrupt it. There have to be options other than this. We have a game series littered with elven scholars like Merrill, accomplished mages like Dorian or Morrigan, thoughtful rebels like Briala or Anders and ... we're ... not ... going to do anything with that?

In both Origins and Inquisition the set up established that there was a solid plan that unexpectedly failed: the Battle of Ostagar in the former and the Conclave in the latter. While I was not a fan of how many of its established plot lines Inquisition chose to just blow up instead of actually resolving, I at least understand how both scenarios led to a rag tag band who should never have been responsible for any of this saving the world. Dragon Age 2 was about the systematic failure of government in Kirkwall and, again, Hawke is forced to act as the people in power utterly refuse to do anything reasonable at all.

Here, my question is – why are we doing it like this now, before we have to?

Ah, well. Maybe it will become clear in time. I may look back on this post and laugh.

#dragon age #dragon age veilguard #veilguard spoilers

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k1ngpin42 · 11 hours ago

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𝐹𝒶𝓇𝓂𝑒𝓇 𝒜𝒷𝒷𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒽 o𝓌𝓃𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇

Part 1: If you guys like it I can write part 2 (with smut)

@osteologistimpostor

@mitski-lovesems

A/N: Despite my VERY frequent Abby x female reader stories, I actually write original pieces too. This one isn’t an original piece- the character is still Abby, but I’m pushing outside of my comfort zone and I’m doing Abby x OC. It's also modern(ish) day Abby

So without further adieu:

Light drifted across the room, pouring onto the table where a rather unimpressed and not-very awake girl was seated. She chased the letters of the paper in her hand, paying more attention to the lack of colour more than how interesting- or rather, uninteresting- the words were.

The view from the balcony was gorgeous, it’s serenity drifting through the house and offering enough “fresh air” to cure a lifetime of hangovers. And still, it was lonely. Not the cleansing kind people often searched for when investing in large areas of land just to have 5 unneeded bathrooms with pretty tiles to be admired; but the desolate and painfully boring kind that was becoming all the more prominent to a woman new to adulthood with her whole life worth of dreams and ambitions with no aim or prospects to go about pursuing them.

Of course any talk of leaving the nest was disregarded as swiftly as it was brought up by her rather reserved, single father, who was more protective of her than anything. This was unsurprising of course. She had great beauty and wit who would be sure to have people swooning over her had she been raised in the city, and this prospect was what scared him the most.

“Good morning Clara.” Spoke a tall, scrawny brunette who grabbed the paper off of the table and sat beside her. “Anything interesting?” He questions, more to the paper than to her. The girl shrugs, using just as much energy to remain neutral as she did to bury the rather obvious deep seated resentment she held towards him. With most guilt, of course.

“Nope.” She replies quietly, getting back up from the table and walking over to the kitchen.

“Coffee, dad?” The man is unresponsive, eyes drifting happily over the page. Clara rolls her eyes.

“Coffee-“

“Huh? Oh yes, yes thank you sweetie.” Clara nods, walking over to the machine and pressing a button, the espresso machine pouring out the rich smelling liquid with a loud and familiar noise.

“Oh, I hired a new ranch hand…by the way.” Explains her father in an awkward mutter. Clara turns her head with a force which very nearly gave her whiplash.

“A ranch hand?” She exclaims, already forcing herself to believe it was just her mishearing over the sound of the coffee. Her father sighs.

“Why don’t you bring that over here?” With a pounding heart, she obeys, bringing the coffee to him and sitting in the chair in front, fiddling with her hands and noting how the two textures feel as she rubs her hand on one another. The man takes a deep breath.

“I figured we could use the help just in case you…end up going to college. Sometime soon, maybe. And I saw this girls ad so I thought…” Clara doesn’t say anything, partly due to her state of disbelief but mostly because she believes saying something will break this reality in two, and that her dad would instead, change her mind and ask her to stay forever.

“Anyway, it’s just a trial run-“ Clara leaps over and hugs him.

“Thank you dad. When does she start?” The man lets out a short laugh.

“Tomorrow.”

***

Clara had spent the morning cleaning the dishes she had put off doing last night, watching TV in her bed and chilling on her balcony naked. She had been painting something out there and had lost motivation for it recently. As for the lack of clothes, she had a tendency of spilling paint on her clothes to a point she had decided just not to wear them since she was home alone. Or at least she thought that until she heard a loud thud in the barn.

Flinching so high she almost saw the heavens, she knocks the painting, causing the stranger to reveal themself at the noise.

There she was. A beautiful, unfamiliar woman with long blonde hair braided ever so nicely down her back, black tank top revealing arms bigger than on any man she had seen, and a face so stunning Clara was blushing even before returning to the realisation that she was butt naked.

The woman immediately covers her eyes with her hand and turns away from her.

“I…I…am sorry-“

“Who the fuck are you?!” Demands Clara, picking the painting back up and hiding as best she could behind the frame.

“Uh…I’m Abby. I think your dad hired me. I take it you’re…Clara?”

“Fuck.” She says, taking a stabilising breath. “No, the new hire is coming tomorrow.”

“I decided to drive in early, I was going to start organising the barn to make it easier for myself when I start tomorrow. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to look.”

“No…No it’s my fault, I’m sorry Abby.”

“I can come back if you want to…keep painting.” She clears her throat awkwardly. “Naked.” she adds. Clara laughs softly.

“No I uh, think I’m done with that. Let me put some clothes on and I’ll come down.” Abby blushes, head still glued to the floor like the most interesting object she could fathom was there. “There’s no need for that miss-“ Abby blurted out, but Clara had already returned to her room.

The second those doors are closed, Clara is hitting her hand over her head in dismay. Of course this would happen to her. Her first god damn impression with some tank, godess-of-a-woman stranger was that she’s some sort of farmer hippie who paints in the nude. It was only somewhat true, but regardless it made her want to move out and start a life as an actual hippie some place where no one will find her. In a scramble, she grabs a dress from one of her clothes piles on the ground. She couldn’t be sure it was clean, but it certainly looked better than her other shit. Thankfully she spotted a coat on the rack behind her door. Mind you, mildly clashy, but better than nothing.

“Abby?” She asks warily. Abby steps out of the barn, face bright red.

“Still here Ma’am.”

“Oh. Yes…good.” Clara says, mentally kicking herself at each word. Abby nods, words failing her too.

“My…dad said he saw your ad. That…you stayed with two seperate families from a young age.” Abbys expression bears much interest, allowing Clara to take her time with what she's saying.

“They kept you on for years so you must be pretty good at what you do. Why’d you decide to take this job instead?”

“Change of pace. Mr and Mrs Harkin are lovely people but, both well into retirement. It was their families farm and they had a lovely house up their when they were newly weds. Had their own jobs on the farm. I guess now that they’re older, they’re less able to enjoy the space. Plus Mrs Harkins has a lot of medicine she needs to refill and…well there ain't many hospitals nearby and if I do it every day the sheep don’t get fed and…well they’re movin in to their sons house.”

“Must have been a shame…” Clara offers, eyes drifting up and down the taller woman. Abby nods.

“Yeah. You know, I’m surprised you live out here. Most of em’ farmers are old folk or entrepreneurs.”

“My dad’s an entrepreneur. Sort of. He sells like IT to big companies. He leaves often for work trips.”

“Leaves you here? I can’t imagine many babysitters being willing to drive all the way out here when you were younger. Did you go with him?” Claras eyes soften and she shakes her head.

“My mum stayed with me. When she was alive.”

“Oh…Miss I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, don’t be. And yeah it is pretty lonely but, on the plus side, I can’t imagine painting in the nude being appropriate in whatever city you come from.” Abby laughs.

“Utah.” Claras eyes widen.

“Utah?” She nods with a smile that makes Claras whole body tingle.

“Salt lake city.” She explains. Clara nods.

Each breath that left the muscular woman seemed to ripple in the space between them, and Claras own breathing mirrored it, as if they’d fallen into a rhythm only the two of them understood.

“I hope the painting can still be salvaged.” Abby spoke after some time. Claras eyes widen.

“What?”

“Well, you kinda knocked it when you…”

“Yeah.” Clara interrupts, not needing the memory of her naked body being exposed to be rehashed. “Though I wouldn’t care if it was ruined. I’ve never been much into art. Too impatient. I paint when something drives me to. A feeling or something inspiring but, I’ve felt that less and less of late.”

“Hm.” Abby responds, examining Clara as if to squint in between the lines she had placed.

“If not art, then what? Surely a sweet thing like you has some big ambition. Art school maybe?”

Sweet thing like you. Repeated the voice in Claras head. Each word lingered in the air, thickening the atmosphere between them, drawing her in closer as if to shield her from the world. It was a delicate label, yet it bore an unexpected weight, making her feel seen in a way that both thrilled and unsettled her, like stepping into the sun after a long winter.

“Have I said something…?” Abby asks, her own nervousness becoming obvious as she talks. In truth she hadn’t expected such beauty. An old man and an already married daughter was what she had expected when Claras father had accepted the ad, not a scrawny, decently young man and his perfect fucking daughter. One who, from what Abby had seen on the balcony, had a physique that mirrored that of an angel itself.

Fuck. Thought Clara at the realisation that she had no recollection of what Abby possibly could have asked her.

“No…sorry I, what did you ask?” Abby smiles reassuringly.

“I was just asking about your plans for the future, but…well I should probably get back to work. I’ve already wasted enough time as is just gettin’ you out here and…well I shouldn’t waste your time any longer.” Clara nodded shortly.

“I’ll be in the house…my rooms just there if you need me.” She offers, stepping away from Abby this time.

***

It had been days without contact from her. Or at least, face-to-face contact. Clara had found herself on that balcony more often than ever. Waking up at dawn to the sound of tools being russled in the barn and the sheep making happy “baas” in response to Abby feeding them. She would look out and see her tending to the crops, sweat on her skin illuminated by the morning sun and bringing a colour that painted her like one of the finest artworks in creation. She had Claras mind coursing in ways that she would warrant was unhealthy. Daydreaming. Fantasising. There was a yearning that words couldn’t describe.

She wouldn’t face her though. Their first conversation had an unspoken definitiveness to it. Like they would speak only as formalities when situations required them to. Plus it’s not like Clara had that kind of confidence. No, that kind of confidence was only discovered at the bottom of a bottle of alcohol most of the time, and thankfully her dad was away for yet another weekend trip, leaving his stash of expensive bourbon unattended to.

There was some point into her night where she had stumbled her way into the barn. It was her hiding spot when she was younger. Nothing much to do on a farm as a kid other than force your parents to play games, and now Clara found it offered her some comfort. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for when she opened up those barn doors. A quiet place to chill out that wasn’t the same four walls of her room? Or was it Abby? She couldn’t be sure.

Clara climbed up the ladder to the top level of the barn, heading over near the small window where a desk and a beanbag was. She clambered onto the beanbag, forming a small ball and closing her eyes. That was till the a haybale dropped, pulling an audible noise of shock from Clara. Abby gasped.

“Shit, fuck Clara?? Are you in here?” Clara simply laughs at the reaction.

“Calling me by my first name? Not very professional-profess?” She asks, continuing to stumble around. “I profess myself in banqueting to all the rout…”

“I…Miss I don’t-“

“It’s Shakespeare ‘Miss’ Anderson. You know, Cassius? Othello?”

“Oh.”

Clara’s voice, playful and teasing, had an ease about it that left Abby feeling unmoored and unsteady. She could barely keep up with what Clara was saying, but the mystery of it, the way her name sounded from Clara’s mouth, filled Abby with a raw, delicate ache.

“What are you doing in here?” Abby asks gently, walking over to the ladder. Clara shrugs.

“I live here. What are you doing in here? You know my dads away right? What if you were like a burglar who…burgled.”

“Are you drunk?” She asks, though the tone lacks any sort of accusation. Clara sighs.

“Come, look at the stars with me.” She hums. Abby sratches the back of her neck.

“Uh….well I really shouldn’t be…”

“Oh come on. You gonna leave a ’sweet thing like me’ up here by herself?” Abby laughs at her words, giving in and climbing effortlessly up the ladder.

“You can do that one handed? That’s hot.” Clara remarks. Abby just tilts her head with confusion.

“What did you just say?”

“I said that out loud?” Clara asks with a tone of genuine confusion. “Oops.” Abby blushes as she sits on the floor beside her.

“You usually get drunk like this? Just you?” Abby inquires. Clara shrugs, her smile fading a little.

“That over there, that’s Saturn.” Clara explains, shifting a lot in the beanbag. Abby looks at her, surprised.

“Saturn? You sure it’s not a star?”

“Nope. Saturn is m’most….mmm” Abby laughs, using her middle finger to push some hair out of your face.

“You’re so drunk.”

“Do you like me?” Clara asks, a rather sudden and drastic shift in both emotions and conversation.

“Well, sure Miss you seem uh, real nice.” Abby says simply.

“No I mean…you saw me. Naked. Did you like what you saw?”

“Wh- I…I wasn’t looking. Honest.” She states, parting the wisps of her blonde hair framing her face away from her eyes.

“Oh.” Clara replies, feeling the drunken urge to start bawling appear.

“Why do you care what I think anyway?” Abby asks, noting her expression and relaxing her tone as she spoke. Clara shrugged.

“I’ve been alone a lot. Thought I liked it, but…I watch all’em mmm….romances and the sit coms…never once been desired like that. Or desired…” Her words trail off, as if Clara is on the verge of sleep. She quickly snaps back into it.

“Anyway…I don’t know why I’m sayinallthis t’you. You’re…big…muscly…pretty. Sure you’ve had your fair sure of desir-ara-bles?” Abby laughs harshly at this.

“I think we should get you some water…”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Abby’s gaze softens, confusion clear.

“My apologies, Miss. What did you ask?”

“Don’t give me that. You saw me, even if you said you didn’t “look.” what’s wrong? Y’don’t like girls? Or do you just not like me??”

“Clara, it’s simply something I don’t want to talk about while you’re not sober enough to know what you’re saying. I think you’re very beautiful, but I don’t feel comfortable talking about how I…looked at your body without your consent.”

“Fine.” Clara says, unbuttoning her comfy red flannel. Abby gasps, immediately covering her eyes with her hands.

“Jesus, Miss-“

“I consent now, just look.”

“I’m not gonna-“ Abby starts to say, the corner of her eye betraying her as she sees the outline of a lace, purple bra.

“Wanna see something else?”

“NO- no just…wait here, I’m gonna get you a blanket mkay?” Abby stammers, getting up in a rush. A solid grip quickly stops her.

“I’m sorry.” Clara says. Abby smiles softly, turning to look at her face, (as well as she could) with reassurance.

“Don’t be. Being drunk alone is…well, I’ve done that once or twice should we say.” Abby says, kind blue eyes staring into Claras green. “Tomorrow morning we can talk as long as you like.”

“You’r staying here?” Clara asks, bewildered. Abby shrugs.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Yes.” Clara responds at an embarassing speed.“Though we are in a barn, don’t you want to go to my room?”

“Miss, I’ve worked here less than two weeks. What would your father think if he finds me on your bed with you?” Clara rolls her eyes.

“Fine, but you better grab me that blanket.”

“Be right back, your highness.” Abby teased.

Claras eyes drift closed in Abbys absence, hearing faintly the sound of her heading down the ladder. Even while in a state of almost sleep, she can still sense Abbys presence return beside her—the steady rise and fall of a chest, the delicate sigh of a muscular and yet still soft form settling in. A stray strand of hair slips across her cheek, stirring as she breathes, and she reaches up with barely a thought, brushing it aside before realising she’s also touched the woman beside her. Their hands meet, fingers resting in a quiet, unplanned tangle.

That’s how they wake up, too. Clara, who is usually as opposite to a morning person as one could fathom, wakes up before Abby, feeling dehydrated and disorientated. She moves to get up before feeling a body. A muscular body that builds her with the fear of the reality that she hadn’t simply dreamt of coming onto Abby while in the comfort of her bed, but rather that she had done that, and that it was rather thick, barn air she was smelling.

“Fuck.” Clara cursed under her breath, waking the other girl who calmly rubbed her eyes.

“Morning.” Abby says.

Fuck.

#tlou2 #abby anderson #abby tlou #oc #wlw post #tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou2 #joel miller

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night-night-stories-before-bed · 1 day ago

Text

‘Cause you are mine

Warning ⚠️; slight smut, Tony being his own warning (alcoholism, suicidal, depression.) Alcohol, blood, fluff 🔞

Pairing; Yandere!Tony Stark/Male!Reader

Summary; Tony can't take it any longer. He doesn't feel appreciated by his friends, feels like a burden to them and that the whole world is against him. That is until he meets you. You shine as bright as the sun and he is Icarus flying too close. But you are the one whose wings burn and melt.

Note; Tony is my Pookie, so be ready to have a lot of stories about him. And again, sorry for the mountain that is this story. ⛰️ And I was hungry for some Yandere Tony

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gala was boring as always and you wondered how long it would take for something interesting to happen. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for someone to catch your attention. Your gaze fell on Tony Stark. The man was alone in a corner, sipping at his drink. The hero seemed lonely, lost and somewhat sad.

Tony Stark, a man who had done so much for the world without ever being thanked. What a sad fate. Trying your best but people keep bringing back your mistakes.

Finishing your own drink, you left the empty glass on the bar before walking up toward the genius. Tony didn't even turn to you before asking you to leave. His voice was low, a dim whisper as if he didn't want to be heard.

- “Why? This Gala is so boring and you are the only interesting person around.” You said, grabbing a drink as a server passed. “I've been impressed with your latest work in medical engineering. That going to help our surgeons save more lives.”

Tony eyed you, suspicious of your intentions and you understood why. So many people only saw him as Iron Man or a drunk, not as another human with feelings. But Stark was so much more. He was a genius and his mind worked like no one else. You wondered why people thought so little of him after everything he had been through and did for others.

You raised your hands, showing you weren't a threat.

- “Hey, easy. I ain't trying to suck your dick, just talking about your latest achievement. Not everyone look at you and see Iron Man.”

You chuckled as Tony rolled his eyes and swallowed his drink in one go.

- “No one ever hears me talk about all that, they all want to speak to Iron Man, curse me or want something from me. So yeah, let me doubt you here princess.” There is an edge to Stark’s voice and you easily see it for what it is; a way to protect himself.

- “Well then, I guess I will have to prove myself to you, won't I?” You replied, getting a smirk from Tony.

And its the best thing you ever did.

For the rest of the gala you both stayed in your corner drinking glass after glass and talking about everything and anything Tony created and made in recent years. You don't understand everything, so you ask question after question just to see some light and passion appear in Tony’s eyes.

Neither of you saw the time pass until you were among the last ones standing. Barely. Drunk the both of you, you had to support each other just to walk outside while jiggling like two idiots as you tried to pronounce some scientific word and Tony tried to help you.

You expected to go your separate way, not thinking Tony would want to spend more time with you. After all, you were both wasted and morning promised to come with one hell of a hangover. But to your surprise and joy, the genius almost forced you into his car.

Tony’s mansion is all you imagined. Enormous, luxurious and extravagant just like its owner, you didn't expected to feel so empty and lifeless. Even wasted you wonder if his home reflect Tony’s entirely. Does inside he also feel that way?

You two crash somewhere in what you can only call a mix between a living room and a bar. Tony, who's the most sober between you, got in his head to pour more drink and you can't refuse. Sitting almost on each other lap the conversation continued with you asking questions and Tony explaining everything, even getting his hand on his tablet to give you a visual.

Before the first light of morning comes Tony and you already finished a full bottle and a half. The conversation isn't clear and it is mostly you two giggling as you struggle to pronounce any complicated words. Stark isn't better. Head resting in the crook of your shoulder, one leg across your lap, the genius looks somehow happy and content in his drunken state. You got your arms around him, making sure he doesn't fall and hurt himself.

But when the sun finally rose and filled the room with golden light, there was only a comfortable silence between you and Tony. Your head resting on top of his, your hand grabbing one of his arms as your thumb drew circles on his skin you both felt content. There is no sleepiness, no need to pass out, just the desire to keep the moment going and hoping it'll never stop.

But of course, every good thing must come to an end.

At first, you heard footsteps coming closer as you were slowly drifting to sleep. In your arms, you felt Tony move, which woke you up fully. Then the door opened as a woman talked. Mind still in the mist, you didn't really understand what she was saying other than she was going to show you out.

- “He isn't going anywhere, Pepper. My new friend is staying right there with me.” Tony said, his voice so close to your ear that you shivered.

- “Tony, you got meetings today and they are important so up and get ready.”

You grunted and groaned, barely listening to the two bickering. Your arm stayed around Tony’s waist, making sure he didn't fall down as he trashed around, arguing with the named Pepper.

- “It's fine Tony. You are a busy man with a lot on your shoulders and I don't want to steal more of your time. We had a lot of fun last night and I hope we can do that again, but for now, your duties await you.” You said, petting his back and you turned your head to look at Pepper. “Alright miss. Show the way, but slowly please.”

Pepper looked at you and nodded as you got up. Tony wasn't happy about it, but you ignored him, not wanting to cause Tony more problems. You followed Pepper, head heavy and feeling like you would never drink again when you felt someone grab your hand. Before you could utter a word, you were forced to run as Tony pulled you behind him.

You heard Pepper screaming Tony's name while the genius just laughed. Lost, you followed the genius. Tony took you down in his workshop and lab. He showed you around, smiling proudly as you admired everything, wondering how a single man could do and create such incredible things.

Having prevented Pepper from following, Tony relaxed and told you he didn't want to leave. Not anytime soon. It both surprised and worried you. Why was your new friend so determined to keep you close? Was he that lonely?

In the following days, Stark was everywhere with you. If you had to go somewhere, he accompanied you and even drove you around. You didn't have a second of peace and yet it only felt normal, natural. Tony fitted perfectly in your life like the piece you didn't know you were missing.

If you weren't sleeping at his place, Tony would join you at yours or you would stop at a hotel or motel. You could tell his friends, especially Pepper were getting tired of it. But not you. Having someone's full attention on you was something exciting, especially Tony who wasn’t one to trust easily.

Even after a few weeks, you didn't get bored with it. Every day brought something new in your relationship with Tony. Some of it was a story from Tony’s past, sometimes he took you to his workshop and you worked with him on some project or he opened up about what was going on in his head.

You couldn't remember when was the first night you shared a bed, but it was at Tony’s place after drinking way too much again. The genius was nuzzled against you, your arms wrapped around him when you woke up. Tony was trashing around, sweaty and whimpering. You could immediately tell he was having a nightmare. As gently as you could, you nudged him until he woke up.

Tony jerked awake, hitting you in the chest as he tried to get away. You had to pin him down against the mattress and ask Friday to turn on the light for Tony to calm down. You were shocked by how scared and broken Tony looked and wondered how no one saw it sooner. You passed the rest of the night cuddling and pampering him until he was calm once more.

As time passed you met each member of the Avengers and each time you were disappointed. Not by the fact they were human but by how little they seemed to care about Tony. They never really listened to him or rolled their eyes as he rambled about some scientific things. It was hard for you to appreciate them when they didn't appreciate your dearest friend.

You pointed it out to Tony who simply scoffed.

- “Tell me something I don't know, Princess.” He told you, voice tired and done.

- “Well I don't like them.” You grunted and he laughed.

- “Again, I know that.”

You kept an eye out on Tony and saw how down he often was after each mission or meeting with the team. You took it upon yourself to make him feel better; getting his favourite food and coffee or drinks and he would smile at you, thankful.

It is sooner than later that your relationship evolved from friends to more.

Again, it all happened after you drank way too much and ended up having a passionate night with Tony. When you wake up naked, you feared you had destroyed your friendship, only for Tony to be happy to now be your lover.

Not just your lover but also your boyfriend.

The news quickly found its way into every magazine and soon enough everyone knew Iron Man was seeing someone, a man. You didn't care about being the target of the cameras, as long as Tony was by your side. After all, you had nothing to be ashamed of.

However, you never imagined how possessive and protective Tony would be toward you. To your surprise, Tony hated seeing your names on the news or on magazines and would snap after any journalist trying to talk to you.

You weren't the only one shocked; his whole team and friends didn't recognize him. Tension began to build up between Tony and the rest of the Avengers. You could only feel guilty, thinking you were the cause and yet not understanding what was going on with Tony.

But with you, Tony was gentle and caring, even overloving sometimes. He would ask for forgiveness each time you pointed out how he acted and would forgive him. You couldn't stay angry for long.

But as the tension and conflicts grew, Tony and the Avengers grew apart. Soon enough, Tony announced he was leaving not only the team but also would stop providing funds to them and the S.H.I.L.D. But after tragedy comes happiness and Tony proposed to you.

As happy as you felt being engaged, the ring strangely felt like handcuffs or a leash. In the back of your mind you wondered if you were doing the right thing. But it was too late to back down, and now that Tony wasn't part of the Avengers anymore he was even more often with you. He was always there, even when you thought you were alone.

After all, he could access any and every camera in the country. There was nowhere where he wouldn't find you.

#male reader #x male reader #x reader #fanfic #reader #angst #tony stark x male reader #top male reader #tony stark #marvel #mcu #iron man

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