#but look i'm still so soft over this even a month and a half later | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

avatar-anna · 2 months ago

Text

Never Really Over

a little bit of divorced!harry for your consideration

"I just wanna see him."

Y/n gave her ex a long look, not betraying the warring emotions swirling in her belly. Harry rarely showed up this late. He rarely showed up unannounced, for that matter. It made things easier—seeing him when she could prepare herself for the encounter. Now he was here on her doorstep, hair messy and eyes all pleading and sad.

"I just put him to bed, H," Y/n sighed. It wasn't that she didn't want to keep Harry from their son, but it was way too late, and it wasn't his week.

It had nothing to do with the fact that Y/n had been feeling particularly lonely lately and seeing her ex husband be all sweet with their son would make her think traitorous thoughts.

"I know, I know, I've just... I've had a long day, and I just want to see him. I won't even wake him up, I swear. I just want to sit with him."

Despite the divorce, Y/n still knew Harry struggled with the demise of their relationship, and she did too, even if she was the one who ultimately filed. They were five months in, but she felt like no time had passed at all. She floated between half expecting Harry to walk through the door like he used to and frustrated by the way their relationship turned so tumultuous by the end. It was all too complicated, which was why she preferred Harry's visits to be planned. It helped her to compartmentalize.

But she saw the look in his eyes and couldn't help but empathize with her ex-husband.

He looked tired and lost and maybe even at his wits end a little. She knew that look well, she recognized it every time she looked in the mirror on the days Harry had their son. She knew what it was like to have a bad day and want nothing more than to hold their little bub and let him wash away every bit of stress and frustration. Y/n did everything she could to not go completely out of her mind when it was Harry's week with their son, and she imagined that her ex felt similarly.

"Twenty minutes," she said, opening the door further and stepping to the side.

Harry's shoulders sagged with relief. He stepped toward Y/n as if he was going to hug her, then seemed to think better of it and went straight inside.

Y/n stayed downstairs while Harry went up, letting him have a private moment with their son. She cleaned up in the meantime, putting away stray toys and books and fluffing couch cushions and refolding blankets. Anything to not think of Harry with her son, or the soft look he always got when he gazed down at their little boy. It had always been her kryptonite, and she wasn't sure she'd gotten over it yet.

A little while later, Harry came back downstairs. Having organized and straightened up everything she possibly could, Y/n settled on the couch with the glass of wine she'd promised herself earlier that day. She'd wanted to have it in her bed with her book, but she settled for scrolling on her phone until her ex eventually left.

"Thank you," Harry said, his voice soft, careful not to wake the five year old upstairs. "You didn't have to do that, but I appreciate it."

"Don't worry about it," Y/n said, trying to appear like seeing him didn't have an effect on her the way it used to.

"Really, Y/n, I owe you."

"Let's not go and make promises you can't keep again," she muttered.

Y/n felt guilty as soon as she said it. They were having a civil moment, a rarity since the whirlwind of their divorce. She hadn't meant to pick at old wounds and make them bleed again. Her response was a reflex more than anything, one that she couldn't keep in check when she was tired.

"I'm not the one who filed for divorce, Y/n," Harry said, a dark cloud of emotion overtaking his face. "If anyone broke promises, it was you."

"Those vows were broken long before we got divorced, and you know it," Y/n said, that old fire that was more of a dull ember these days rising to the surface.

Harry and Y/n fell in love hard and fast, both loving each other fiercely and with everything cell in their body. Their relationship had been full of passion and intensity and so much love it was almost suffocating. But it also meant that they fought just as hard. Their arguments often blazed and burned bright, then fizzled out until they were in each other's arms again as if nothing had happened.

Until the arguments got bigger.

And longer.

And Y/n just couldn't take it anymore.

Y/n could tell that the anger simmering in Harry's eyes was more for show. She could see the sadness, perhaps even loneliness, in those lovely green eyes of his. And maybe her anger was a little more bravado than genuine hurt too. Maybe it was easier to slip into familiar habits and poke at old wounds than admit the truth.

She missed him.

"Don't make me the villain here. You—"

"I don't want to fight with you," she said before Harry could volley anything back. "I shouldn't have said what I said. I'm sorry. It's been a long day for me, and I'm assuming yours wasn't a walk in the park either."

Harry didn't say anything, or do anything, for a moment. Then, he let his head drop, his shoulders slumping a little. Feeling more than a little bad for kicking him while he was down, Y/n stood up from the couch and fetched another glass before pouring some wine in it for her ex. "Here," she said. "A peace offering. You look like you could use it."

With a laugh that held no humor in it, he took it and raised the glass to his mouth, and Y/n tried hard not to stare at his lips. Or the column of his throat as it bobbed when he took a sip. Or—

"Is this one of mine?"

Y/n willed her cheeks not to flush. "I might've snagged a few bottles from your collection before we sold the house. Most of them went untouched anyways."

"They were aging," Harry said, a little of that humor and charm she fell in love with sparking in his eyes, the lines of his face. "You're supposed to let the bottles rest for a few years until they're at their peak, and then you drink them."

Y/n shrugged. "If you wait too long it goes bad and you miss out on a perfectly good bottle altogether, and then you do all that waiting for nothing."

She didn't mean anything by it, but both of them recognized the subtle truth in regards to their own relationship. Y/n wondered if they would ever be over this part. The stumbling through conversations and trying to avoid dangerous subjects that were littered between them like a minefield.

"Are you saying that's what happened with us?" Harry asked after taking another sip. "That I waited too long to appreciate what was right in front of me? What was perfect in every way the whole time?"

"I was talking about wine, not us."

"You've always been perfect in my eyes, Y/n," Harry said. "You and that perfect angel upstairs. Both of you are my entire world."

"Don't," Y/n said, taking a step back when she realized how close together they were.

"I miss you," Harry said, his voice hitching in his throat. "I miss waking up to our baby snuggled between us. I miss holding your hand while we watch him play at the park. I miss building pillow forts and playing pretend. I miss you, Y/n. I miss being loved by you. I hate that we're divorced. I hate that I signed those stupid papers and let you walk away."

Her throat suddenly felt dry, her heart pumping in her chest so hard she worried he might hear it. Blinking, Y/n tried to maintain the thread of composure holding her together. "You've had a long day. I can tell you need rest—"

"Don't patronize me," he said, stepping closer and closing the small distance between them once more. When Y/n didn't try to widen it again, Harry continued. "If you don't miss me, if you don't still feel what I feel, then say that. But if you do..."

Harry took Y/n's glass and set it down on the coffee table along with his own. He straightened up, one free hand lightly caressing your face, his thumb grazing across her cheek with a touch so delicate she barely felt it. It was agonizing. To have him right there, just the way she used to, and only get a phantom touch. It was maddening.

So maddening, that when he leaned in, Y/n didn't stop him.

She might have whimpered, and her knees might have slightly buckled, and she might have clutched her shirt between her fingers in a desperate, iron grip as Harry slid his mouth against hers, but she would deny it if he said anything about it later.

His kiss was all-consuming, he'd been a ghost in her new life for months, and suddenly he was everywhere—on her tongue, in her hands, against her chest. And she nearly forgot how explosive kissing him was. How it was almost like a dance that they'd mastered but were always learning new and exciting steps to. The softness of her ex's lips were as familiar as ever, but the stubble on his cheeks was new. She didn't recognize the shirt he wore, but she knew the body beneath it almost as well as her own. And his hands—

"We can't—We're not—Harry—"

Over the years, Y/n had grown used to the feeling of Harry's wedding band against her skin. When he held her hand, when he cupped her cheek, when he was spreading her open or landing a firm slap to her ass. It was familiar, a part of him that just seemed intrinsic after they got married.

But now, as she placed her hand over the one that held the side of her face as he kissed along her throat, it wasn't there. The band was gone, they weren't married anymore, and they certainly shouldn't be kissing like they still were.

"Just this once," Harry murmured, pressing the words along the curve of her jaw. "It's been so long, baby. I just want to feel you again. We can still be divorced after. Like last time."

Flames licked Y/n's core as she remembered the night in question. It had been the night the divorce had been finalized. Harry and Y/n signed and initialed every dotted line, the lawyers shook hands and left, then Harry and Y/n went their separate ways

Harry still insisted that her late-night message about a few of his possessions that got mixed in with her things was meant to have some kind of subtext, and Y/n would swear until she was blue in the face that her text was innocent, even if the activities that followed Harry coming over to "pick up" said items were anything but. It was a final goodbye. It was closing a chapter on a book neither of them ever really believed would end.

"Last time was supposed to be the last time," Y/n said, her voice shallow and not at all convincing.

"Tell me you don't want me right now," Harry said, his hand creeping beneath the waistband of her pajama pants. Y/n's mouth opened in a strangled gasp, too aroused and too in love with him still to push him away. "Tell me not to set you down on the kitchen counter and let me love on that pussy the way I used to. Tell me not to haul you upstairs and fuck you hard for breaking us up when we could've had this every. Single. Day."

Harry's last words were punctuated by the thrust of his fingers inside Y/n, each one making her curl around him tight. He lifted her into his arms and set her on the couch, the closest surface in the vicinity that wasn't hardwood flooring. His fingers still moving inside her, pumping slowly, he pressed a bruising kiss to her lips.

"Tell me not to love you anymore," he said, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. "Tell me how to fall out of love with you. Tell me how to not dream of you. Tell me how to not want you anymore."

Y/n, who had succumbed to this moment, this lapse in...whatever it was, could only grip her ex's hair as he worked her over with his fingers, each word he spoke a balm to the loneliness these last months brought. She wasn't ready to start seeing someone else after the divorce, but now she worried no one would ever measure up to Harry. He ruined her for any other man who might try to sweep her off her feet in the future.

"Tell me, Y/n, and I'll let you come."

Y/n was a mess. She could hear it as Harry's fingers slid in and out of her quickly and harshly, then slowing down before she could finish. He used to do it all the time, knowing how worked up it made her, and now he knew nothing had changed.

"I—" she gasped. She was so close she could barely think straight. Harry's desperate words and the way his fingers curled inside her had her seeing stars. But if she knew her ex, he would stay there and edge her until she gave him what he wanted. "I don't know. I don't know how to make it stop. Please let me come."

Having thought she'd given him what he wanted, Y/n prepared herself for an earth-shattering orgasm. She surrendered herself to tonight, to him, even if she regretted it in the morning. Even if secretly she didn't, which would make her feel even worse.

But instead of pushing her over the edge, Harry removed his fingers from her altogether. The whine Y/n let out at the loss was perhaps a little undignified, but she couldn't think straight with the thick cloud of lust looming over her.

"Wh—"

"We're going to do this properly," he said, scooping her up into his arms and heading back upstairs, taking a left toward her bedroom. Their little angel boy was down the hall on the right side, but Y/n knew they still had to be quiet.

Once behind the closed door of her bedroom, they were both quick to shed each other of their clothes. Stitching ripped, a button or two flew, socks tossed carelessly to corners of the room they'd probably forget about later until there wasn't an ounce of fabric between them.

There wasn't time to stand and appreciate. This wasn't a romantic moment. It was desperate, a little angry, and intense in the way it always has been between them. Y/n kissed her ex-husband hard, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip and soothing the ache with her tongue until he eventually flipped her over onto her stomach.

"You can't be here by the time he wakes up tomorrow," Y/n managed to say. "I don't want to confuse him."

"I know," Harry said, lining himself up with her entrance. "But wouldn't it be so nice if I did?"

"Harry—"

"Relax, baby, I'll abide by your rules," he said, his voice a soft caress. "Just let me have you tonight, and then I'll be gone."

Harry slid in with one smooth thrust, Y/n's mouth dropping open in response. She hadn't been stretched this way in months, and the feel of him inside her again as if nothing had changed...

"Fuck, Harry. I'm—I'm so close," she moaned, unable to say much more than that.

His movements were torturously slow, prolonging the climax he'd been teasing out of her on the couch. Then he leaned over her, his body pressing deliciously against hers.

"We may be separated, but you're still mine," he said, his words accented by his own pleasure. "These hips? Mine. Your tits? Mine. This little cunt? Well, she already knows. Absolutely drenching me. And tonight, I'm going to make sure you remember that."

Y/n could only whimper and wait to take whatever her ex-husband was willing to give her.

*.*

Y/n was having the best dream.

Sun streamed through the small crack in her bedroom curtains as she snuggled under the weight of the warmest, coziest blanket. She held onto it, wrapping it tighter around her, hoping to get a couple more minutes of sleep before her son eventually barged in and demanded they start their day.

She had a million things to do, but none of it seemed to matter while she slept. She felt relaxed in a way she hadn't in a long time.

Then the dream seemed to change. The cozy blanket became an arm draped over her, a leg tangled between her own, and a firm body pressed against her back. The unknown form wrapped around her began to kiss along her bare back, the arm tightening its grip around her waist. Her stomach flipped as a hand began to play with her breast.

She hadn't had one of those dreams in a long time, either.

Before the dream could go any further, Y/n regrettably began to feel the pinpricks of consciousness. But as she blinked her eyes open, she still felt that weight of another body next to hers, of someone other than herself occupying her bed.

It was then that last night made an appearance in her mind, recalling every dirty detail of how she'd given into her ex-husband.

"Good morning."

Harry's voice was low and gruff as if he'd only just woken up himself. The puffs of his breaths dusted over Y/n's skin and sent goosebumps all over. She didn't understand how her body, even while it was still waking up, was so responsive to him.

As casually as possible, she said, "You weren't supposed to stay over."

"Honestly, I don't even remember falling asleep," Harry admitted, though he made no move to leave her Y/n's bed.

"You have to go before he wakes up," she insisted, even if her body was completely against that idea. "He can't find you here. If he does, he'll have questions, and—"

Before Y/n could even finish, she heard the soft patter of feet against soft carpet. Then her door creaked open, and the light of her life appeared.

"Daddy!"

Y/n rested her hands over her face, but not before seeing Harry's broad grin out of the corner of her eye, one that was nearly identical to the little boy at the foot of the bed.

"Hey, buddy," Harry said, his voice less husky than it was just moments ago. "What are you doing up so early, huh?"

"Why are you in bed with Mommy?" the boy asked, climbing into bed with his parents and wriggling around until he was snuggled between them.

Wasn't that the question, Y/n thought, though she was in no rush to help Harry.

"Mummy and Daddy decided to have a sleepover," Harry explained.

"Oh. Well, why didn't you invite me?"

"Because..." Y/n felt Harry's gaze on her, but she was not inclined to dig him out of this hole. Their night was over. It was a new day, which meant everything was back to the way it was before Harry came over last night. "Because I wanted to surprise you this morning. We're all going to spend the day together. Just the three of us."

"Yay!"

"What?"

Y/n glared over the top of her son's head as he half-hugged half-tackled Harry from sheer excitement. This was definitely not reverting back to their normal routine of co-parenting and seeing each other only when it was necessary. Harry, who looked thoroughly pleased with himself, slid out of bed with their boy still latched into him.

Thankfully, he was wearing underwear, but that didn't help Y/n much. She couldn't help but stare at his muscles flexing as he stood and stretched while he held their son. At all the tattoos that littered his body and the mess of curls on his head. He had no right to look this good in the morning, especially when Y/n knew for a fact that she always looked haggard no matter what when she first woke up.

Not that her appearance in front of her ex mattered to her.

"Come on, let's start with making your mum some breakfast. I'm thinking...waffles?"

"Do not make a mess of my kitchen, Harry," Y/n warned, not even bothering to protest the idea in its entirety. She wouldn't have been able to tell her son no even if he tried. Not with how excited he looked at the prospect of spending the day with his dad.

"We'll clean up after ourselves, I promise," Harry said with a wink in your direction. "You stay there and rest. I know you had a...long night."

Y/n threw a pillow at Harry's retreating form before flopping back into her bed. She had half a mind to strut right over to him and prove him wrong, but, well, the dull ache between her legs was starting to make itself known, and the damage of her son seeing Harry in her bed was already done. She might as well stay in bed and take the morning off if Harry was offering.

Sighing, Y/n ran a tired hand over her face as one realization after another made themselves known.

Everything about last night and this morning was messy and would no doubt bring about consequences and difficult conversations she wasn't inclined to have. There were questions she didn't want to ask or know the answer to, but one thing was abundantly clear:

She was well and truly fucked.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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leashybebes · 2 months ago

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Hi! Love your work so much! I have a very vague prompt and it’s just Tommy being emotionally vulnerable with Buck. Idc what about I just need this man in tears please and thanks.

well this got longer than intended! i've skimmed over it but basically banged it out in fifteen minutes bc turns out i also need this man in tears

When the bubble pops six weeks after Tommy walked out of the loft, it's not at all what Buck was expecting. He'd hoped for an 'I'm sorry', an 'I was wrong', an 'I want you back'. In bitter moments, he'd even hoped for Tommy to say something really dickish so Buck could just hate him and get on with his life. Hell, even a random string of letters that Buck could interpret as an accident or an attempt to open the lines of communication depending on his mood.

What he gets is:

I've been going to therapy

Finally, right?

I hate it

And then radio silence for the better part of an hour. Buck is about to tear his hair out. He drafts and doesn't send half a dozen responses. The loft smells of chocolate cake by the time the next message comes through.

Sorry, call.

Tell me to get lost, it's fine. But I was wondering if we could talk. I owe you an explanation.

Buck reads it twice, takes the cake out of the oven to cool. Scrolls back up to read the messages from the start. Later, once the cake is filled with sharp redcurrant jelly and covered in a perhaps overly generous layer of toffee buttercream, he picks up his phone again.

I owe you an explanation is glaring at him.

Yeah you do, he sends back. Come over when your shift is done.

The reply is almost instant:

Thank you. 2 hrs.

Two hours suddenly feels like both not enough time to prepare, and far too much time to tie himself up in knots. He deep cleans the kitchen, makes a shopping list, checks in with Maddie. He doesn't mention that he's going to see Tommy.

Somehow, two hours pass in the blink of an eye and Buck realizes - he has no idea what he's going to say. He's spent the last month and a half trying with everything in him not to call Tommy, and he's just now realizing he has no idea what he would have said if he'd given into the urge. Maybe he just wanted to hear the guy's voice, and now he's about to, and he has no idea what to do with himself.

The knock at the door makes him jolt, and that's it, there's no more time to think. His first thought when he opens the door is that it's not fair that Tommy looks so good. He has no business looking so good. His hair is freshly trimmed, those greys at his temple that admittedly send Buck a little feral sparkling in the low light of the hall, his favorite blue Henley soft and stretched across the bulk of his chest, his eyes - Buck's whole train of thought derails because he looks again and Tommy looks - scared. Sad. Like he's holding back from flinching by the skin of his teeth.

"Hey, Tommy."

"Hi, Evan."

Evan, he notes. Steps back. Waves Tommy inside. Tries not to notice the way Tommy's face crumples a little as he steps over the threshold.

"Never thought I'd be here again," he says.

"Me either," Buck admits. "Well, after the first couple weeks when I - " When I sat around and waited for you to come back and tell me you made a mistake. He bites his tongue. Much as he wants to be real bitchy about this, Tommy looks like he is on the edge, and nothing in Buck wants to make that worse.

"You want a coffee?"

"Uh. Sure," Tommy says, and it gives Buck the opportunity to turn his back, to breathe. He's achingly aware of Tommy behind him, of the gravity of his presence, the sound of his breathing (a little shaky), the slight creak as he takes a seat. Buck still has the stupid almond milk and the stupid syrup Tommy likes in his stupid candy flavored coffee, has been buying the former on reflex and can't bring himself to use the latter and taste Tommy's kisses without the man himself. He makes the coffee, even cuts Tommy a slice of cake, and dumps them both in front of him.

Tommy blinks down at the cake, up at Buck. "You made that?"

"Yeah," Buck says. "Been getting real into baking since - well, since."

"Oh." Tommy chews on his lip, looks away again.

"Every time I wanna call you, I bake," Buck admits, the words falling into the silence between them with more weight than they deserve given how ridiculous they are, really.

Tommy glances up at him. "Yeah?"

Buck swivels, pulls open the door to his fridge which is still groaning under the weight of saran wrapped loaves and cakes and tupperwares full of cookies.

"That's - that's a lot."

Buck shrugs. "Yeah, well."

The silence is painful. Awkward in a way they've never really been with each other. Buck throws himself down onto the stool opposite Tommy, tries not to think about how this is exactly where they were sitting when - when. From the look on his face, the way Tommy can't meet his eyes, he's thinking the exact same thing. This is - it's the worst, Buck thinks miserably.

"So, therapy, huh?" he blurts out.

Tommy nods, takes a deep breath. "After I left that night, I - I drove to the movie theater."

Buck blinks. That is…not what he was expecting. "Uh…"

"Bought a ticket and everything. Realized on my way in that that's - that's not normal. Nothing I did that night was normal. You - you made me so happy, and I blew that up the second it sounded like maybe you wanted something long-term. That - that's not normal. The way I think about - about relationships, about love, about myself. It's not normal."

Buck feels like he's holding his breath.

"So I went home. Drank a couple of beers. Psyched myself up. Booked an appointment for the next day."

"That's…" Buck doesn't know what to say. "That's quick."

"Yeah. I don't - " Tommy looks away. Buck can't see it, but he can tell that he's bouncing his leg anxiously. "I wanna stop being a fucking - a wrecking ball. I wanna stop hurting people, stop hurting myself, but it feels like it's all I do."

Buck can't bite his tongue quick enough. "You make choices, Tommy."

Tommy nods and shrinks in on himself. "I know that. I do. It doesn't feel like it, but I do. I get scared and I make the worse choice every time because it's easier than being brave, and I tell myself it's the only choice but - it's not. I know that. I do know that. I'm - I'm so fucked up, Evan."

His eyes are swimming with tears and Buck knows he's no better. Everything in him is screaming at him to reach out, but he clenches his hands together under the table to stop himself. This is - this is maybe the most real Tommy's ever been with him, maybe the most real he's seen Tommy be with himself, and Buck doesn't want to interrupt it, even as every part of him wants to gather Tommy up to him and soothe him and promise him everything's okay. Everything's so far from okay. He watches Tommy take a few deep breaths, recognises the pattern and the count from his own therapy sessions.

"My - my dad - you know, he's an asshole. But he wasn't always. He and my mom - they were so in love. I mean, stars in their eyes, to the exclusion of everything and everyone else, they adored each other. Even before she died, I didn't - there wasn't space for me in there. And after - I guess I remind him of what he lost. They loved each other, and it hurt me. Abby loved me, and I hurt her. I loved N - Nick, and he h - hurt me. I - "

Tommy clears his throat wetly and looks away while Buck thinks who the fuck is Nick and how do I break his kneecaps?

"You what, Tommy?" he asks instead, and it comes out gently.

"I love you," Tommy says, and Buck pretends he isn't paying attention to the tense, pretends his heart isn't rabbiting inside his chest. "I love you, and I hurt us both and I'm - I'm poison, Evan, I'm nothing but sharp edges but I swear I'm trying not to be and I know it's too late but I'm so - I'm so sorry, I'm so - "

He's fully crying now, trying to hide his face in his hands and Buck can't hold back anymore, closes the space between them and gets his arms around the bulk of Tommy's shoulders where they're shaking.

"Don't," Tommy begs, his whole body tightening, so tense Buck's worried something is going to snap. "Don't - d - don't - I don't deserve - "

"Shh," Buck says, pressing his face into Tommy's hair and stopping himself from making it a kiss at the last second. "I don't care what you think you deserve, just let me hold you, okay? Just let me."

Tommy cries harder, soaking Buck's shirt, and Buck doesn't know how long it goes on for but suddenly Tommy's holding him too, clinging in a way he never has before, in a way that feels desperate and fierce and heartbroken.

"It's okay," Buck promises in spite of himself. He strokes his fingers over the short cropped hairs on the nape of Tommy's neck. "I've got you, it's okay. Just try to breathe, baby, you're gonna make yourself sick."

Baby slips out without any intention on his part, but Tommy doesn't seem to notice, just heaves in a hitching, gulping breath, then another, and another. He shifts in Buck's arms, pulling away and Buck lets him. He doesn't retreat to his own seat though, doesn't feel right to put any distance between them while Tommy presses the heels of his hands into his eyes like he can force the tears back inside.

"I'm sorry," he says, when he's a little calmer. "I've got no right - "

"Stop, okay. Just - stop being so horrible to yourself."

Tommy nods. "Yeah. Working on that. I know - I know it's too late, and I swear I didn't come here with the intention of - of crying all over you and making you feel bad for me. I just - I wanted you to know that I'm sorry, and I know that I fucked up real bad. I know - like I said, I know it's too little, too late, but I want you to know I'm working on - on being better."

Buck chews on the inside of his lip clearly for a second too long because Tommy gives a sharp little nod.

"That's all I wanted to say," he says, pushing back from the table and starting to stand. "I'll get out of your - "

"Sit your ass down," Buck says, a little rougher than he intended. Tommy does as he's told, blinking rapidly and Buck pushes away from the table, paces across the kitchen and back again.

"Evan…"

"Shut up. If you keep making decisions for me, I'm gonna - I'm gonna start throwing loaves at your head."

Tommy makes a noise that's half laugh, half sob, and Buck fights back the tiny grin that's tugging at his mouth.

"You - you really think you're this irredeemable asshole that doesn't deserve to be happy, don't you?"

Tommy shrugs, looks away. "If the shoe fits…"

Buck whirls around, yanks open the fridge, grabs the first loaf he sees. "This is coffee and walnut. It's dense. Last warning, jackass."

Tommy's laugh is more distinct this time. "Evan. Okay. Yes, I think that. But I'm - I'm working on not."

"Okay. Okay. So - so work on it." He puts the loaf down. "Work on it, and take me on a date."

Tommy looks like he's being rebooted without warning. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?"

"I - "

"Tell me why I can't be serious."

"Because! Because I'm - I'm a mess. I hurt you. I left."

"You came back," Buck counters. "Even if it was only to apologize."

"You deserve better."

"I want you."

"I don't - I don't know when I'll be - better than I am."

"You're better today than the day you left. You're here."

"Evan…"

"Yes or no, Tommy. Take me on a date."

"I - "

"Yes or no."

"Yes. Please, yes."

Buck exhales for what feels like the first time in weeks. "Okay. Okay. That's a start."

He puts the loaf back in the fridge, takes Tommy's coffee away to reheat it, and the whole time he can feel Tommy's eyes on him, watching him like he's something precious.

#bucktommy #my writing #prompt fill

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heirofnight · 5 months ago

Text

meddling

azriel x reader drabble

word count: 2k - longest drabble ever, i'm so sorry

summary: reader just escaped a horrific past that has left her closed off and in need of isolation. she takes up residence at the house of wind, finding solace in the private library. she's content to keep to herself, but a meddling house and a stray little shadow have other plans.

a/n: i wrote this very quickly, this is more like a stream of consciousness than a well-planned piece of writing lol. also my first time posting so pls be kind 😭 i just felt like writing and then ... this happened. ok enjoy!

azriel was a silent, watchful protector of yours when you initially arrived at the night court. studying you, observing you from afar. you spend most of your time on the third level of the house of wind - shy and in need of isolation. your past was something you were desperate to forget. but, even after your relocation to velaris, your mind was murky. you'd tried sorting through thoughts and emotions that you'd pushed deep down in order to survive, but it all felt akin to wading through waist-deep mud in heavy, laced-up boots. you'd found solace in the private library on the third floor, only doors down from your own chambers. many mornings you awoke, dressed, and shuffled to the warm library that was lit with beams of light from dawn's glow. you'd curl into your favorite chair that overlooked velaris and the glistening sidra far down below, taking in a centering breath. it felt like muscle memory, and the house had learned of your routine. a warm teacup waited for you, right beside your well-loved armchair. your tea was the perfect temperature: the house had learned that too. and every morning, a sly, stray tendril of shadow wove its way through the half-opened library doors. it noted your presence, your general state of well-being, before darting away playfully to relay this information back to its master. yes, rhys had asked azriel to watch over you, but even az knew that this level of attentiveness was overkill - even for him. you'd peek up at the tiny shadow each morning, expecting it now. at first, shortly after arriving at the house, you'd blink up at it - not having the mental energy to delve into its motive. now, a couple of months later, you'd felt more settled. more relaxed. and you almost considered this lone shadow to be a sweet little companion, the only being that dared approach you this frequently. you'd give it a soft grin each morning, and it would swirl happily, lazily, before departing as quickly as it came.

you were always cold. try as you might, you often only felt true, comfortable warmth when bundled beneath the layered blankets that adorned your oversized bed. you knew you shared this hallway with azriel, but rarely ever saw him. you'd hear him arrive late at night every now and then - assuming that he'd just returned from some sort of mission. what you didn't know, however, was that azriel had tried his hardest to silence the thump of his boots against the stone floor every single time he approached the arched door of your room. before, when he only shared this hallway with cassian, he'd make noise on purpose upon arriving home. his own way of letting his brother know that he was home and safe, without having to strike up any sort of conversation. he was drained after most missions, had enough of speaking. but with you occupying the room next to his own now, he wouldn't dare disturb your well-deserved, peaceful slumber. az assumed with the past you'd endured, that you'd trained yourself to sleep light. not a sound, don't fuck this up, he'd think to himself, willing his shadows to silence his footsteps entirely. even with the suppressed steps, he still tightened every single muscle. stepping so slowly, he knew he must look ridiculous. if cassian ever saw this, saw him, he would never live it down. on several occasions, your heavy wooden door had unlatched on its own during the night, leaving just enough of a space between the frame and the door that azriel could see the beige drapes that fluttered lightly against your windows through it. your sweet shadow companion would leave az's silent side to dart through the crack, and return just as quickly to whisper cold, shivering against his master's ear. to deter the draft from chilling your bones any further, azriel would reach a scarred hand out to the doorknob, closing it as silently as possible - making sure to pull until he heard the slight click of the latch.

you'd often opted to eat your meals either in the library or in your room - the house setting out a plate and silverware for you wherever you'd decided to spend your time that evening. you didn't allow yourself to wonder what the members of rhysand's family must have thought of you - a secluded, timid female that went out of her way to avoid the members of a family that had tried so hard to give her a home, a place to heal. you'd always quickly push those thoughts to the back of your mind, wanting to focus on taking care of yourself, and not others for once.

tonight, you'd chosen the library. you'd recently begun a trio of books that you'd found on one of the overflowing shelves, and you were unable to put them down once you'd started. you didn't notice the time, didn't notice the mid-afternoon sun become dusk, making the sidra glow like wildfire. you did, however, notice the grumble of your stomach once it became evening. the light of day was gone - the library now filled with the warm glow of faelights, dim candles sitting in golden candelabras, and a crackling fire within the hearth across from you. you frowned to yourself, noticing now that the house hadn't placed dinner on the mahogany coffee table that sat in front of the fire. you glanced around, the thought of verbally speaking to the house itself feeling a bit silly. you briefly told yourself that asking the house may offend it - that was even more laughable. could you offend a house? while silently mulling over these questions, that sly, sleek little tendril of shadow slowly approached you from the door of the library. it curled and twisted its way to you, stopping at your right hand to weave its way around your wrist. you looked down at it curiously - it had never touched you before, had never gotten this close. you'd deduced at this point that it was one of az's shadows - figured that it was just curious about the new presence in the house. however, it began to twirl, trying its best to get your attention. "yes?," you whispered aloud. speaking of silly interactions, you thought briefly. it weaved through your fingers, as if it were trying to hold your hand, before darting towards the door and stopping in the doorway. it was waiting for you; wanted you to follow. you cocked a curious eyebrow, slowly closing your book to set it on the table before you. gathering your linen dress in your hands, you stood, hesitantly walking towards it. "where are we going, little one?," you whispered towards it. the shadow responded immediately by darting down the hall and to the left, towards the stairs. you quickened your steps to catch up to it, only to find it waiting on the landing of the staircase for you. once you spotted it, it darted away again, down one level. peering over the railing, you noticed it twirling towards the doorway of the dining hall. family dinner was taking place, and judging by the various muffled voices and laughter you were able to hear from the staircase, everyone was present.

you tiptoed quietly down the stairs, which you realized was probably pointless. you were sure at least one of them had already picked up on your approaching scent by now. the patient shadow still waited by the door for you, swirling and twirling happily. inviting you inside to dine with its master and his family. you took a deep breath, watching as the shadow darted back to azriel's shoulder, whispering something against the shell of his ear. immediately, az's head snapped towards the doorway, meeting your own nervous gaze before you had the chance to escape without being noticed. his presence felt grounding - it had since the first time you met him. he didn't speak much, but neither did you. he felt familiar, safe, and you wondered briefly if it was due to the affection you'd grown towards his shadow that checked on you dutifully since your arrival - an act that you assumed was azriel's doing.

your hands were clasped in front of you as you nervously played with your fingers. you surveyed the room, taking everything in: the relaxed family, the spread of delicious food on the table. azriel continued to watch you with a calm, yet indiscernible expression on his face. the corner of his lips turned up just slightly, trying to convey that it was okay, you could come in. rhysand noticed you next - he followed azriel's distracted gaze to the threshold of the door, finding your small frame standing there. "well, look who it is," rhys drawled politely, loud enough to quiet the rest of the family sitting around the table. everyone's gaze found you at once, and you swallowed thickly. your eyes darted back to azriel's in a silent plead, his hazel eyes feeling like a lifeline. az nodded once, gaze soft and kind. "why don't you sit down and join us? we were hoping you would," rhys stated sincerely, gesturing a sweeping hand out over the spread of food. “help yourself, y/n. if you don’t see something you’d like, the house will prepare a more suitable meal," he smiled warmly. as if on cue, a goblet of wine, plates, and silverware appeared in front of an empty chair - courtesy of said house itself. you smiled softly, at the high lord, at the house's display of affection towards you. "thank you," you spoke warmly, perhaps the first time most of them had ever heard you speak at all.

the empty seat that was now prepared for you was right next to azriel, and you slowly made your way towards it. you felt the prying gaze of everyone at the massive dinner table, and silence still encompassed the room. your eyes flitted around nervously, and azriel tracked the movement immediately. he cleared his throat once, a silent, stoic glare tossed to his family. they got the hint, and all fell back into comfortable conversation amongst each other - attention no longer all on you. you took your place next to him, staring down at your empty plate. your hands fell into your lap, your fingers fiddling together once more. azriel watched you from his peripheral, not wanting you to feel balked at.

he leaned over finally, speaking so only you could hear, "would you like to try the potatoes?", his tone was warm and soft - comforting. you darted your gaze over to him, only meeting his eyes for a moment. he was much more intimidating up close, and you were far too shy.

"they're my personal favorite," he continued on, the corners of his mouth curled upward. you let out a small breath of a laugh, playing with a stray thread on your gown. "yes, please," you whispered to him, eyes raking over the large elaborate plates and dishes set in the middle of the table, searching for the potatoes he spoke of. before you could reach towards the gold serving spoon that sat within the buttery dish, his hand had already grasped it, bringing a heaping serving right over to your plate.

"i've got it," he spoke softly, dishing your meal. you nodded once, cheeks heating at the action. it continued this way, azriel asking if you'd like to try each entrée and side, one by one. he'd offer his own personal opinions on each one, and you'd both laughed at the way he'd described the asparagus - "absolutely abysmal," he'd report, nose scrunching dramatically.

after your plate was adequately filled, az went back to his own food. you began to poke at yours. "thank you," you whispered over to him after a moment. he glanced over at you and replied with a friendly smile, and over his shoulder appeared a small tendril of a shadow - your meddling little companion that had also apparently conspired to bring you closer to its master. it twirled your way happily, looping through your fingers and up your arm. you laughed softly, meeting azriel's sparkling hazel eyes. he smiled fondly at his shadow, "i'm sorry, sometimes it feels like they have a mind of their own," he paused for a moment, watching the smoky tendril weave through your hair. "they like you," he whispered, meeting your eyes with a grin.

"don't apologize," you replied softly. "i like them too. i think they knew i needed company," you said pointedly, not dropping his gaze for the first time all evening. he nodded in understanding, plopping another bread roll onto your plate.

"well, welcome to the family, y/n," his words were soft, but the weight you felt in your chest was overwhelming. warmth, true warmth, spread through your limbs, snuffing out the chill that had left you constantly shivering.

#acotar #azriel #azriel fic #azriel x reader #azriel drabble #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel x you #azriel fluff

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mountainsandmayhem · 16 days ago

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BDSMaid - Chapter 9

Series Summary: In order to save money for law school, you accept a job working as a maid for high end clients. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in more than just your curiosity peaks. Word Count: 5k CW: see small red lettering below the cut AN: I'm going to miss them!! I'm absolutely heartbroken that I'm done, but so fucking proud of myself for what I've created. Thank you to @lotusbxtch for being my beta from pretty much the very beginning. I am so grateful to you and so honoured (yes, with a u because I'm Canadian lol) to call you my friend. Also little shoutouts to @for-a-longlongtime, @alltheirdamn, @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for listening to me go on about them for 80% of 2024. As always, graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: unprotected p in v, one spank, multiple orgasms and Overstim hinted at, pining, heartbreak

Eight Months Later

Joel

“I got yelled at by a feisty brunette last night at that gala,” Tommy says as the two of them sip whiskey at the bar of the club.

“Probably deserved it.” Joel deadpans and closes the folder of invoices he’s looking over.

He should be doing this in his fancy, and newly renovated, office across the street. He was in the large office for all of three minutes the day after you left when he could only see the ghost of you. From the chair you sat in when you first asked him to teach you how to be a sub, to the door he pinned you against and confessed how out of his mind he was over you, everything was you, and it had to go if he had any chance of following what you needed from him. Joel hasn’t even been in his room at the club out of the fear of what it would do to him. Would I still be able to smell the lavender of her shampoo in there? Still be able to hear her beautiful cries of pleasure and pain bouncing off the walls?

“She thought I was you,” Tommy says, glancing over at his brother and interrupting Joel’s impending spiral.

Joel sighs, slipping his reading glasses from his face before taking a long pull of the amber liquor from his crystal glass. Tommy looks straight ahead as he continues.

“She’s doing great, by the way. Or at least that’s what her friend said when she was scolding me.”

Joel winces at his words, “Of course she is, Tommy.” Even though it's been almost a year since you left, just the mention of you rips his barely-mended heart back in half. It doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, he still feels like he did in his kitchen.

The very fibers of his being ache just as hard for you now as they did then. He longs to see you and touch you, to feel your warm, soft skin under his hands again. Anyone before you was always, ‘Yes, Mister Miller,’ even when they weren’t in a scene; but not you. You weren’t afraid to be curious and unapologetically yourself. He hasn’t laughed as hard with anyone, including Tiffany, as he did with you. But the part that he misses the most is the way you look at him the first time you see him. Your eyes soften, velvety pink lips parting slightly before they curl into a smile that makes his heart hammer behind his ribs. Then, he watches your shoulders relax and it makes him feel like he hung the moon and stars for you, and if he could have, he would have.

He clears his throat and then rasps, “She’s too smart to not be doing well.”

Tommy stands, bringing his hands to rub at Joel's shoulders. He squeezes his tense deltoid muscles and with a hint of mischief in his voice he says, “Lots of pretty girls here tonight if you feel like moving on.”

Joel shakes his head and pulls away from Tommy’s grasp with a grunt. “Never gonna happen. Get outta here before you get yelled at two nights in a row.”

“Just too bad for me that you aren’t a hot brunette,” Tommy says with a laugh.

“I have brown hair,” Joel replies defensively, running his fingers through the grown out curls.

“Not to kick you when you’re down, but it’s mostly grey at this point.”

Joel holds up a single finger at Tommy over his shoulder as he laughs and walks away.

Two and a half years later

You

You’ve been up to your eyeballs in studying as you prepare for your finals. These last few years in California have been the hardest yet most fulfilling time of your life. Two nights in a row now, you’ve fallen asleep in the library, only waking when your Spotify would switch from the white noise playlist you use to help you focus, to your “getting ready” playlist. After dragging yourself to your dorm room in the dead of the night, you’d get a few restless hours of sleep before heading right back to your favourite studying spot. You can’t believe that in just a few short weeks you’ll be graduating and stepping into the life you’ve always envisioned for yourself.

The unmistakable FaceTime jingle fills your AirPods. Jamie’s name is splayed across the screen of your phone, along with a photo of the two of you at Albany Beach when she visited this past Christmas break. You put your highlighter down and slide the answer toggle over.

“Hey!” She says, her warm smile shining up at you. You squint, trying to place where she is. You don’t often let yourself think of Joel, but the cracks across your screen make FaceTiming difficult, and the selfish side of you always wishes you had grabbed that new phone before you left. Your head cocks to the side; broken screen or not, you don’t recognize the background.

“Where are you?” You ask.

“Oh, I’m good, thanks. How are you?” She jests with a mocking eye roll. “I’m at a cabin.”

“What cabin?” You say, glaring at her jokingly. A deep laugh comes from the otherside of the phone and your eyes widen. “Who’s that?”

The man's voice comes from offscreen, “I can’t believe you thought she wouldn’t ask where you were. She’s going to be a lawyer, for god's sake.”

“Jamie, who is that? What is going on here? Blink twice if you need rescuing!” You joke.

Jamie blushes, looking over the phone at whoever that voice is coming from. “I just wanted to call to see how the studying is going, and to let you know that I got the graduation tickets.”

A glass of white wine appears in front of Jamie and she smiles before puckering her lips in a kissing motion towards the man in the room with her. “Ok, seriously, who the fuck is that and where are you?”

“I was also calling to let you know that Laren can’t make it anymore and Odette is in New York,” she takes a small sip of her wine.

“Oh, well that’s ok,” you say, trying to squash the disappointment and hoping it doesn’t show in your voice or face. You wished that at least two of your three best friends would be there for you. “It can just be me and you, baby!”

“Well…I’m wondering if I could maybe bring my boyfriend? Might be a good opportunity for you two to meet.”

“What? What boyfriend?” You say, officially abandoning all study materials until you get some answers. Jamie raises a perfectly manicured finger and calls the mystery man over.

You swallow hard as Tommy Miller appears beside her.

Jamie glances up at him, her bright green eyes full of admiration, his mirroring hers. The starry look in their eyes tells you everything you need to know; they’re so far gone for that even a search and rescue team wouldn’t be able to save them. She looks back at you. “Meet again, I guess.”

You try to push for answers, but either of them give in, claiming you need to focus on finals. Before you hang up, Jamie promises to tell you the entire story when you see each other next. You’re happy for your friend, especially seeing the way Tommy looked back at her. Even through your cracked screen you could see the love, but as you try to go back to studying you have a hollow feeling in your stomach.

Graduation Day

You

The late afternoon sun fills your dorm room, boxes of your belongings stacked haphazardly around you. After walking the stage tonight, you are going out to dinner with Jamie and Tommy, and then he has paid for a hotel suite so the two of you can have a girls’ night. You can’t wait to hear how Tommy went from, in Jamie’s previous words, “my dad’s new asshole friend” to her boyfriend.

You step in front of your floor length mirror, zipping up the black graduation gown over your knee length, form fitting, deep emerald velvet dress. The California sun has been good to you, your tanned legs and sunkissed nose and cheeks are glowing. You place your blue and yellow Berkeley Law stole over your head and then grab your cap, ensuring the ‘Class of ‘28’ tassel is secure. You fluff your curls one last time as a light knock comes from your door.

“Ready to graduate, gorgeous?” Ronan smiles at you, eyes trailing down your gown. He’s the type of handsome that’s almost painful to look at, but more importantly - you wouldn’t have made it through these last three years without him. You met the first day - the lock on your door wasn’t working, and he waltzed in on you half naked when he mistook your room as his.

You smile at him in your doorway now; remembering the way you screamed at him that first time, trying to cover your chest, and him scrambling to close the door. His eyes were clamped shut, and he slammed his finger so hard that you had to take him for stitches. Now, several years later, he fills out his graduation gown perfectly with those wide rugby shoulders, a sight you couldn’t even have imagined back then. Whichever angel made him didn’t make a single mistake - he’s tall and insanely broad, with dark sandy blonde hair, and clover green eyes that in the right light are a golden hazel. He’s easily one of the smartest men you’ve ever met and an incredible athlete. The cherry on top, because of course there’s more: he’s an international student and has a panty-melting Irish accent.

“Beyond ready. Let's become lawyers, babe.”

He steps aside, one arm out in a ‘ladies first’ gesture. Handsome, charming, and thoughtful - a dangerous trifecta. You slide your hand in the crook of his muscle-lined arm and walk across campus together.

Ronan jerks his head towards the coffee cart. “Remember when you spilled your entire coffee on your new puffer jacket?”

You glare up at him, you saved for weeks to buy that jacket. “No, but I remember you throwing up in that trash can after the Halloween party last year.”

“Well, if Beach Party Barbie had helped Lifeguard Ken with all those shots we wouldn’t have had that problem, would we?” You laugh as Ronan puffs out his chest, but you both know he was more than willing to take your half of the ‘Best Couples Costume' shots.

Finally, you reach the courtyard where the law students will be walking across a stage that acts as the symbolic bridge to the rest of their lives. I’m a lawyer, you think to yourself and try to force a smile. The magnitude of the day only really starts to sink into your bones as you see the friends and families of your classmates start to take their seats. The excited feeling you had earlier starts to morph. You’re proud of yourself for what you’ve done these last three years, and this was just the first step. You have so much to look forward to, so why do you feel a sense of dread building in the pit of your stomach?

Ronan walks you to where you need to line up alphabetically, kissing your cheek and then, after leaning in and placing his large hand on your lower back, he whispers a joke about how you better not trip. You glance around the thick crowd for Jamie and Tommy. After realizing it’s hopeless to try and spot them in a group this large, you slip your cap over your hair and get in the procession line.

You try to soak in every minute of the day, from the speeches to the birds chirping in the background, but something akin to loss flutters at the base of your spine. You’re just as sad to be leaving Berkely as you are excited to carve out your future. Leaving here isn’t what’s causing you to feel this way, however. You try to tell yourself that maybe it’s just nerves; even with all the job offers coming in from your internships, it’s normal to be nervous about what comes next.

As the student union president gives his toast to the family and friends, you look down at your lap, pushing back the cuticle on your left thumb. Maybe it’s leaving Ronan. He’s been an anchor for you, grounding you almost every day of the last three years and you don’t know how you let yourself become this dependent on anyone, especially a man, again.

You shake your head at yourself and try to move your focus to the cuticle on your other thumb. Seeing the skin clean from the nail bed eases the tension slightly for you. ‘I’m allowed to be nervous when leaning on people, but not everyone will leave me,’ you recite almost automatically in your mind, the mantra you’ve had these past few years whenever you feel yourself getting this anxious. Just as you finish the thought, a car revs in the distance and the realization of what - or who - you’re actually missing slams through you so hard that you almost feel winded. Your lungs ache, tears pushing behind your eyes as his name rings loudly through your mind.

Joel.

You kept yourself busy since the minute you left Austin. The busier you were, the less time you had to focus on the void in your heart. During the school year, you didn’t have to find things to stay busy with; law school nearly chewed you up and spit you out. Over the summers, you worked as an intern and visited your friends. There was never a quiet moment, never too much time alone with your thoughts, and it was better this way. You can confidently say that you’d only thought of Joel six times since you walked out of his house that day: when you fell asleep on the beach and were so sunburnt you could barely move for three days; when you failed your first test; when your rusted SUV, that acted as your ticket to freedom at eighteen, died on the freeway in rush hour (from that point on you had to rely on public transportation to get you to the homes you cleaned). When you experienced your first earthquake; when you stayed up for forty-two hours straight after your partner in a group project didn’t have their side of the work done; and, lastly, this past New Year’s Eve when you were in Austin and thought you saw him at a party.

“Is he here?”, that little box of feelings that you shut away in a vault long ago wonders. “Has anything changed for him in the last three years?”

The small smile that pulls at your cheeks, and the excited flutter of your heart when you think about the possibility of seeing him again, proves that maybe nothing has changed for you. As the minutes tick by, your mind races with all the possible scenarios for after the ceremony. What if he is here? What will you say? What will he say? How will Ronan react, you know he has strong feelings about what happened between you and Joel. Even worse though, what if he’s not here? But maybe he’s at the hotel where Tommy and Jamie are staying?

Before you know it, your row is standing and walking single file towards the stage. With each strike of your high-heeled strappy sandals against the concrete, a memory of Joel floods your system. The toast he made you in his kitchen, the kiss in that dimly lit hallway on your birthday, the way he walked you through his club and how calmly he talked about you being in charge before going into the voyeur room. The multitude of orgasms he gave you within the four walls of his private room. Him singing on the small stage of the dive bar you found, followed by him spanking you right there in the bathroom with his hand clamped to your face to keep you quiet. His strong hand grasping your thigh as he drove you to his house. The way he tasted on your tongue. The smell of his skin: all ash and leather, occasionally mixed with whiskey or mint. The feel of his body: hard, broad and hot. His shuddered breaths as he confessed so many things in so few words.

‘It’s only you, sweet girl.’

‘Just call me Joel.’

‘I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.’

You carefully walk up the stairs, forcing the thoughts of Joel from your mind, just in time to hear your name announced as a graduate of Berkeley Law. You float across the stage, grabbing the piece of paper that acts as your degree until the real one comes, shaking the hand of the Dean who flips your tassel before you walk to the stairs on the other side; the stairs that symbolize the ending of your time here and the beginning of the rest of your life.

As you reach the top of the steps, you look out into the audience and see Jamie. She pumps her fist in the air and before you can process the empty seat beside her, you feel it; a strong tug from behind your navel. It takes you less than a heartbeat to find him and the sight before you floods your body with a familiar warmth. Standing under a large tree at the edge of the audience, dressed in all black, and holding his Stetson hat to his heart, is Joel. For the first time in years you feel whole again.

You keep your gaze on him, worried that if you so much as blink that he’ll be gone. You are supposed to follow your classmates, but you veer left, walking towards Joel. The closer you get, the more at ease you feel. He’s real, you think, he’s here. You stop a foot or so in front of him.

“Hi, Freckles,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes dance around your face, almost as if he’s trying to memorize this moment. You can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling exactly how you are.

“Hi, Sweet Cheeks,” you say, the same tremble in your voice, as you try desperately to hold it together. “You’re here.”

He nods and you give him a tight-lipped smile as your mind races. There’s so much you want to say, but now that he’s standing right there in front of you after three years, you don’t know where to start.

Joel breaks the silence, jutting his chin in the direction of the other graduates as he says, “I saw you come in with your boyfriend. When I saw you kiss, I was going to leave, but I made you a promise.”

You knit your eyebrows together and take a step closer. “Boyfriend?”

“The man you walked over here with,” Joel says, his black Stetson sliding down the chest you so desperately want to touch as he drops his hands to his sides. He’s left no barriers between the two of you except the heartbreak that’s evident on his face.

You laugh quietly, “No, he’s - that’s Ronan.”

Joel nods. “Okay.”

“He’s my friend,” you clarify, and when Joel’s face stays the same, you add, “And he’s still as gay as the day we first met!”

Joel lets out a whoosh of a breath and closes the distance between the two of you, his free hand comes to one of your curls, twirling the end of it around his thick fingers. Soft and silky meets rough and calloused. “I’m so proud of you, Freckles.”

You don’t miss how he watches your tongue dart between your lips, “Thank you.”

“So? How does it feel?” He gives you a soft crooked smile, his dimple carving into the short facial hair of his salt and pepper beard. Between that smile, and the way his brown eyes wash over you, you’re overcome with affection. He let you go. He did exactly as you asked him. He didn’t chase you or try to convince you to stay. You told him if he really loved you, then he’d do exactly this; and in turn, he did what he said he would.

He showed up.

“I love you,” you state and the air between you turns electric, almost like this moment could either set you both aflame or act as a generator for your future together. Joel gives you that look, the one that makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. He lets the curled end of your hair slip from his fingers, reaching up towards your graduation cap but hesitating.

“May I?” He rasps and swallows hard.

You nod, and knowing exactly what he’s going for, you take the Stetson from his other hand and place it on your head after he removes your cap. The brim of it blocks out everything but the two of you.

“Say that again, sweet girl,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” it’s barely a whisper this time. “Even after three years apart, you are everything to me. I asked you to let me go so I could accomplish this, and you did. You’ve always done what I asked, what I needed. I’m not sorry for what happened between us, but I am sorry that I missed out on getting to spend the last three years with you looking at me how you are now. I love you, Joel Miller.”

He brings his lips within a breath of yours, and your body practically vibrates with the knowledge that if you leaned just a bit forward, you’d finally have his mouth on you again. You can almost taste the mint on his tongue as the familiar fragrance of ash and leather surround you. “I have dreamed of hearing those three words leave your beautiful lips more times than I can count, baby. You’re it for me. I’ll do anything for you, even if it means breaking my own heart, but I’m always going to be here for you, rooting for you and encouraging you. I’m glad you’re not sorry, because I’m not, I’m so fucking proud of you. I love you, too, my sweet girl.”

Finally, he presses his warm, firm lips against yours while pulling you tight to his body. You wrap an arm around his neck, holding the black cowboy hat against your head with your other hand. It doesn’t matter that the ceremony isn’t done, or that there are hundreds of people to your right. For the first time in three years, everything goes quiet. He hums contentedly and you feel yourself melt against him, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss. He parts his lips, letting you take the first swipe of your tongue against his. Need floods your system, and based on the way he grinds into you, he’s feeling the same.

He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours. “Take me home,” you practically purr.

“Where do you want home to be? I’ll go anywhere,” Joel rasps, running his nose down the bridge of yours.

“Austin,” you respond, your breath catching as his lips ghost along the side of your mouth.

“I sold my portion of the club to Tommy and Tess. I don’t have anything holding me in Austin anymore, sweet girl. If you have a job offer you really want, that’s where we’ll go.” You pull back to look at him. You can tell by the set of his jaw that he’s serious.

“I want to go to Austin. I have a job offer there.”

“Good thing I told Tommy not to touch my room at the club then.”

“That’s a very good thing,” you moan and then pull him in to kiss again. The audience behind you erupts into cheers, celebrating the accomplishments of every student in that crowd.

You’re a lawyer, and suddenly, the future doesn’t seem so scary.

Joel

Taking you home to Austin that night unfortunately wasn’t an option. After finding Jamie in the crowd, and being formally introduced to Ronan, he called the car to pick up the three of you. You all met Tommy at the restaurant, celebrating with all the expensive homemade pasta and overpriced wine that you wanted; even though seeing you in that curve-hugging velvet dress was slowly killing him. Joel had kept at least one hand on you since seeing you again, and he doesn’t plan on changing that anytime soon.

He didn’t want to rush you on your big night, so he waited patiently, listening to you tell stories of your last three years, and revelling in the evident joy that you and Jamie share over being together again. When dessert comes around he catches Tommy’s attention and gives him a small smile. It’s fitting that the two brothers, who have been so close their entire lives, would fall in love with best friends.

Once in his room, he spent two hours stripping you down at an almost painfully slow pace. He kissed every inch of your skin twice over and has pulled five orgasms, and counting, out of you so far.

Now, Joel is seated in the wide velvet arm chair in the corner of his hotel suite. His cock is buried deep inside of your tight cunt as you straddle him. Your skin feels like butter under his hands as he trails them along your back and the globes of your perfect ass. He’s missed tying you up, but this is what he longed for: the earth shattering intimacy he feels with you in these moments.

“Please,” you mumble into his neck, desperate to move your hips.

“Not until you answer me,” he demands softly. “How many times was it that you needed me, but were too stubborn to reach out?”

Earlier tonight you told him about the six times you really needed him. He’d kissed you softly after each confession, returning the trust with a time he needed you. After the last one, he’d pulled back to look at you with dark eyes. He’d hated that you needed him and he couldn’t be there. He’d clenched his back molars twice before he said you’d be denied six orgasms the next time you were at the club, but tonight you have permission to come as often as you need to.

He swats your already reddened ass cheek and your pussy flutters as you cry out. “Mister Miller, stop. Please, just let me move.”

“Do you need to use your safeword?”

“No,” you respond with a pout.

“How many times?” He says again through gritted teeth, even though already knows the answer.

“Six,” you sob.

He tuts and then growls, “That doesn’t sound like my good girl, does it?”

You shake your head against his throat and moan a sound of disagreement.

“Do you want to come for me again?”

“Yes, Mister Miller. Please!”

He trails his fingers up and down your back again, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin makes it easy for him to caress you. He smiles to himself at the shiver that racks through your body at his touch. You react so beautifully to him. “Yeah? You wanna grind your swollen little clit on my piercing, baby girl?”

“Please,” you whine again, stretching out all the vowels in the word.

“Show me. Ride my cock, take what you need.”

You lift your head from the crook in his neck and pull back slightly, rocking your hips back and forth; a sultry laugh leaves his lips at your eagerness. You look at him with hooded eyes, hair stuck to your forehead. His eyes trail down your neck to the bruises he sucked into your collar bone earlier and then to your breasts; both of which are covered in his marks. He watches the little gold nipple clamps, and the chain that connects them, bounce with each flick of your hips.

“That’s it, sweet girl. You look like a goddess, my goddess. Who do you belong to?”

“I’m yours, baby,” you say through shallow breaths. He pulls at the chain and you cry out in pain. “S-sorry, Mister Miller.”

“Again, sweet girl. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Oh fuck, y-you, Mist -” his hands come to your face and when he whispers your name the rest of your sentence dies on your tongue.

“Just call me Joel.” The commanding voice of his alter ego is gone as he says it.

Your hips slow, changing from a frantic back and forth to a sensual swirling motion. “I’m yours, Joel. Forever.”

He kisses you softly, a silent telling of how vulnerable he is at this moment. “Don’t ask me to let you go ever again.”

The smile you give him causes his heart to skip, “I won’t.”

“You might, sweet girl. I won't survive it if you do, so I’m going to remind you of this moment as often as possible for the rest of my life. Remind you how much you’re loved and supported. You’re mine, Freckles.” Your hips swirl and he feels you tighten up around him. “Come for me, my sweet girl.”

“Fuck, fuck, Joel!” It’s a cry and moan all at once.

“I’m here, it’s ok, baby.” With that, your body shudders and you fall into him as you shatter. Your pussy clenches and releases rapidly around his length. His cock twitches, and once he can’t hold it anymore he relaxes, letting his orgasm rock through him in time with yours.

“I’m yours, too,” he gasps as he melts into you.

The End

Coming Soon:

Curious how Jamie ended up with her "dads new asshole friend?"

Part 2 of the BDSMaid Trilogy coming mid 2025!

Also, stay tuned for the epilogue for Joel and Sweet Girl.

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bigification · 4 months ago

Text

Prom King

"We want to welcome you back to Fairway High for your ten year reunion. Come catch up with some old friends and share all the amazing adventures you've had since you graduated! And stick around for a special speech from our Prom King and Queen."

Dan shuddered as he read the email. He had completely forgotten about the stupid reunion. It's funny, he thought, he used to imagine how he would show up to the reunion in a sports car with a perfect bod and high end clothes hugging his muscles. But that was back when he was the most popular football player in his town. Parents adored him, popular teens idoled him, and nerds feared him. Things have changed a lot for Dan since then.

He stared at his half naked body, ravaged by the bad habits of an ex jock. His appetite stayed after he graduated high school, but the exercise didn't last long. He went off to study business in college, as any high school jock did. His time spent at football practice turned to frat parties and junk food, which quickly showed on his waistline. It really put a dent in his once untouched ego, especially once people nicknamed him as 'freshman' fifty. It wasn't quite fifty pounds, at least not in his first year. It sure was well over that by the time he graduated though. And in that time, his clean shaven body had been buried in thick dark hair from head to toe. Although he didn't entirely mind the more mature look, especially once his beard grew in, it complemented his growing gut. Though Dan took another sizable cut to his ego when he started to go bald at the ripe age of 20. Comb overs only lasted him so long, so he started shaving it when he was in his senior year.

He always said it built character, which to be fair, he was far less awful after graduating college than he was in high school. The email only made him remember how awful he was back then. He was the typical jock with his possy of suck up football players who had no personality and the most popular girls. He would torment anyone who was even slightly chubby, or even just smart, they were all beneath him in his mind. How were people gonna react when he shows up to the reunion looking 9 months pregnant and about to burst. It horrified him at the thought of them treating him how he treated them.

Then the horrifying thought hit him, "I'm the Prom King!" He shouted out loud at him in the mirror. Not only would he have to show his face, and gut, he would have to stand on stage in front of his entire graduating year and say a speech about being Prom King. He would be a laughing stock.

"I have to do something about this." He thought.

The reunion was still two weeks away, he could workout, or diet, or maybe buy some clothes that hide his fat. He did a frantic search online but everything just seemed like a scam. He scrolled through page after page of scam supplement and intense workout regimen until he found something interesting. A witch who lived nearby. A witch who specializes in body modifications. It was drastic, but could be crazy enough to work.

Dan contacted the witch with a request to make him into an absolute jock, the kind of man his high school friends would expect him to be 10 years later.

After a bit of back and forth, an appointment was set, and Dan went to bed happy.

The day of the appointment came in a flash. Dan threw on his classic base ball cap to cover his balding head, and dressed in some gym clothes that he thought would look sick on his new hunky body. He excitedly hopped in his car and drove down to the witches house. To his surprise, it was just a regular apartment in a regular apartment building. He was expecting some evil looking house, but seemed less intimidating anyway. He knocked on the door, and he was met with yet another surprise. A petite and nice looking woman wearing all black opened the door.

"Come in darling." Her voice was enchanting. "Sit." She continued in a soft but commanding tone.

Dan sat in a small chair in front of an antique looking table. The raggedy wooden chair creaked under his weight as the witch sat across from him.

"So... You say you want a strong, manly, and attractive appearance?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"Well for what it's worth, you're much more attractive than you used to be." A cold breeze blew past Dan as she spoke.

"Oh... Thank you." His cheeks reddened at the comment.

"I do have to warn you, there are some... dangers to this spell." Her tone darkens.

Dan just raised his eyebrows.

"There are people who feed off of a witch's magic. Now I know how to avoid them, but I will be imbuing this magic into you. So you may have a target on your back from people trying to steal your magic."

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Just don't draw too much attention to yourself." The witch warned. "Anyway. I'll get on with it."

She dipped her hands in a small bowl that was laid on the table. "Stand up." She commanded, and Dan followed. She walked around to Dan's side of the table, fingers wet from whatever was in the bowl. She pressed her fingers into his forehead, and it felt like all the tension in his body vanished in a split second. In fact, all feeling seemed to vanish in Dan's body, leaving him stood exactly still. Something about being frozen should have scared him, but he felt a strange sense of calm in the moment.

The witches fingers traced down Dan's face, through his beard and over his soft man tits. She lifted the finger and firmly pressed it back down into his chest. It was like the air was pushed out of his chest as the fat on his moobs collapsed in on itself, leaving his chest completely flat. She then pulled her finger outward, and his pecs grew as she pulled. The muscle swelled until two juicy pecs pressed hard against his tang top. Dan was shocked, he couldn't believe it actually worked, although he still couldn't move.

The witch then traced her finger down to his gut. She laid the palm of her hand against it and pushed, causing his belly to vanish in a second. And once again, she pulled her hand back to form a defined six pack over his flat stomach. She moved her finger around his side, melting away his love handles and giving him a thin waist.

She then suddenly sped up, as if she hit her stride. Her hands gripped Dan's soft arms, and suddenly definition appeared on his rapidly growing biceps. They grew to the size of melons as his shoulders broadened to match. Good thing he wore a tang top or else his sleeves would be in shreds on the floor. Her hands slid down his forearms, doubling their size in the process, and she held his hands, making them so massive they could completely cover his face.

She then bent down and grabbed his thighs, causing them to thicken to the point that Dan couldn't separate them anymore. She thickened his calves as she moved to his feet, making them burst out of his shoes as they grew to a monstrous size 20. As she stood back up, Dan realized the witch stood at eye level to his pecs when they used to be the same height.

The witch then wrapped her arms around Dan's hulking body and cupped his ass cheeks, making them expand into two thick globes of fat that threatened to rip through his shorts. One hand then came back and gripped Dan's dick, making it grow and thicken until it was a massive 10 inches and hanging down his pant leg.

Finally, her hand lifted up to Dan's face, making a few adjustments to match his body. A thicker beard, a sharper jawline, a slightly bigger head to match his much bigger body, and thick brown hair on his head.

Dan gasped as he regained control of his body. He teetered back and forth as he tried to get used to his new body. His legs felt strong, holding up his immense muscle mass with ease. He even struggled to move his arms around at first because it was difficult to move that amount of mass. His meaty hands took a moment to explore his expansive body; bouncing his pecs and his ass, gripping his cock, and even rubbing through the short brown hair that now covered his head.

"How are ya feeling handsome?" The witch broke the silence.

"Are you kidding me, I feel amazing!" Dan flexed, as if to show off his body like a new toy.

"Well I'm glad you like it, now we should talk abou-" the witch was interrupted as Dan basically ran out the door.

"I'll be fine, thank you!" The sound of his voice got quieter as he shut the door behind him.

On his way home, Dan excitedly stopped by a retail store to grab some clothes that actually fit. He confidently strolled in with his tang top riding up his hairy six pack, and shorts that were clearly too small for him. He picked up a few clothes that were big enough to fit him, but small enough to leave little to the imagination about his physique. The clothes weren't exactly pretty, but nobody would care about the clothes when his hunky body was the one wearing them. He even flirted with the cashier on the way out, making his cheeks flush red.

He swiftly made it home and passed out like he had just had the workout of his life.

He woke up the next morning, feeling like he was still in a dream. He shot out of bed as if he'd had three cups of coffee already. This was how he spent every morning leading up to the reunion. Dan was more productive this week than he had been in years. His looks quickly got him a modest following on Instagram, and even on onlyfans after his followers pestered him enough. He reconnected with a bunch of his old friends from high school, just to build a rapport with them before the reunion. And he spent most nights partying and staying the night at some strangers house. By the time the reunion rolled around, it was as if he was the same person he was in high school. Hot, athletic, cocky as hell, and maybe just a bit nicer than he was back in high school. So much for 'building character'.

Before he knew it, it was time to leave for the reunion. He had been prepping for this all week, there was no way he could mess it up now. Dan was meant to be the Prom King. He wore a snug pair of jeans that hugged his ass perfectly, and a grey shirt that showed off his juicy pecs, and finally threw on the letter jacket he wore when he was Prom King ten years prior.

He pulled up to the reunion in his shitty, half broken down car and parked as far out of the way as possible just so no one could see the piece of shit he drove. He pushed open the door to the venue and walked past the crowd of people as if all eyes were on him, because they were. Everyone who was anyone knew who the Prom King was.

He strolled to the back of the stage, so he could get ready for his speech. He stood alone, in silence for a moment, trying to hype himself up. Even after the amazing week he has had, it was the same insecure fat ex jock under there who was scared that everyone would laugh at him onstage. But his moment of silence was interrupted when loud footsteps approached him from behind.

An older man strolls into the backstage, walking right past Dan as if he wasn't there. Dan grimaced as the man got close, seeing the man's large ball belly hanging out of his shirt, which seemed to have multiple buttons popped off. "What is this pig doing here?" Dan couldn't help but think of the old man. The old man promptly sat down in a chair near Dan, leaning back and pulling the shirt up his gut, as if to show it off.

"Who the fuck are you!?" Dan yelled as he got fed up with the old man's antics.

"Oh, you don't know who I am?" The man said as he continued to adjust himself in the seat.

"Why would I know some loser like you, are you the Prom Queens dad or something." Dan scoffed.

"I thought the witch would have warned you about me." The old man's demeanor became more serious.

Dan felt a jolt of fear run down his spine. How does he know about the witch?

"Oh I bet she did." The man started to laugh. "But all the attention online and the sex and the porn, oh the porn was so good." The man grunted as he rubbed his crotch. "You just couldn't resist being popular!"

Dan only grew more afraid as the man monologued.

"I am going to enjoy this." The old smiled as he got up from the chair.

"Enjoy what?" Dan questioned as he tried to back away, but couldn't. Why couldn't he back away. The old man grew closer and closer, but no matter how much Dan wanted to run, he remained frozen in place. The man placed his finger on Dan's forehead, causing a blue light to escape from his body and enter the man's body.

Dan watched helplessly as the man's arms grew to the size of melons, his biceps bursting through his sleeves. Meanwhile, all Dan could feel was his sleeves becoming looser as his arms deflated. The man's moobs shrunk into a solid pair of pecs as Dan looked down to see his chest swell until he was left with two soft man tits. The man's ball gut got smaller and smaller as fat piled into Dan's stomach, leaving him with a heavy gut that spilled under his shirt. The man's pants grew tighter and tighter as thick muscles filled his thighs and juicy fat perked up his ass. Dan felt weak as his legs became more fat than muscle, he even felt the bulge in his pants shrink as he watched a thick bulge appear in the man's pants.

As if that wasn't enough, Dan watched on in horror as the man's face ages down from 60 down to 30. His wrinkles melted away as Dans became dry and wrinkly, his face thinned out as Dan's became rounder and chubbier, and his hair gained a light brown colour as Dan's thinned out and became white. The man pulled off his shirt to reveal a forest of dark hairs sprouting all over his body as a bushy bread covered his face. Meanwhile Dan can feel his face go cold from the much thinner facial hair.

As the transformation came to an end, the man flexed as he felt the energy course through him.

Dan once again let out a gasp as he regained control of his body, though this time his voice was much deeper and gruffer. Dan panicked as he ran his hands through all of the new rolls of fat on his body. He even stumbled back as he adjusted to the weight of his gut.

"What did you do to me!?" Dan yelled.

"Oh you did this to yourself buddy, y'know how easy it was to find you." The man responded, sounding almost exactly like you used to.

"You made me fat." Dan's voice breaks.

"Oh I did so much more than that, check the camera in your phone old man." The man smiled, as if he was containing his excitement.

Dan dreadfully pulled out his phone and opened the camera app.

Dan shed a tear as he saw the fat old man staring back at him through his phone's camera. His gut was bursting out of his jacket and his hair was nearly as thin as it was before his initial transformation.

"And if you don't mind I'll be taking that." The man grabbed the letter jacket off of Dan and put it on himself.

The man confidently strutted towards the stage, ready to give his speech as Prom King, but Dan wasn't ready to give up that easily. His footsteps were heavy as he followed the man onstage and grabbed his arm.

"You're not gonna take this away from me!" Dan yelled.

This was followed by a moment of silence as the crowd went awkwardly quiet. Everyone's eyes were once again on Dan, but it didn't feel like before.

"Ooohhh, that was embarrassing old man." The old man whispered to Dan before approaching the mic. "I'm sorry everybody, my dad is just a bit jealous that I'm in my glory days and he's not." The man says to the entire venue, then turns to you once again. "Isn't that right, dad? " He said as he pressed his finger into Dan's chest.

Dan froze once again. This time, memories flooded into his brain. Memories of him growing old, never reaching the happiness and popularity he had in high school. He even had a son, and named him Dan jr. after himself of course. Though his son would grow to top him in all of his achievements, including becoming prom King back when he was in high school. Dan Sr. finally decided to swallow his pride and let his son have the spotlight. He slowly waddled off to the side and watched as his son gave his speech as Prom King.

#male tf #masculine #fat tf #male transformation #reality change #hairy #male wg #muscle tf #age progression #body swap

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venusbyline · 3 months ago

Text

Opposites ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 09, oct.

— pairing: Derek Morgan x petite!reader

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: size difference

— summary: Derek asks you out on a date after seeing you just keeping company with your best friend at the gym.

— word count: 1.8k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 9th day, female!reader, gym goer!Morgan, size kink, fingering, oral (female receiving), praise kink, hand & fingers kink, curse words, sub!reader, dom!Morgan, shy!reader, womanizer!Morgan, Spencer Reid mentioned. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

When you agreed to follow your best friend's workout at the gym, you were not really that interested in watching sweaty muscular people lifting weights back and forth. You spent all six damn days throughout the month focused on using your phone during those hours, only getting distracted when she asked you to help her pick something up or to record her so she could post the videos on her Instagram Stories later.

You were not a person very interested by fitness life, your mind was more focused on reading, working and watching movies. But you still took time out to watch your friend doing boring exercises.

You went to fill her water bottle for the second time in the last two hours, you were startled when a tall and very strong man approached you. "Jesus, I'm so sorry." You laughed embarrassedly, taking the airpods out of your ears. "I was so focused on the song I barely saw you coming."

The guy laughed too, a soft smile and dimples appearing slightly as he looked you from head to toe, seeming to understand that you were not there often. At least not for training. "It's your first day?

He asked and you flinched. You did not know if that was just curiosity or a mocking hint disguised as a question.

You swallowed hard and shook. "I'm just accompanying my friend." You said, turning off the water and looking at him. "What's your name?"

He smirked, stretching his strong arm towards you with a suspicious way, as if he was making a point of showing how hot he was. "Derek Morgan, princess."

The pet name made your cheeks blush and you nodded silently for a while, before seeing him furrowing his eyebrows and crossing his muscular arms. You lingered for a moment at the alluring sight before looking up, realizing the reason for his confused look. "Oh, sorry again." You gave an embarrassed smile, introducing yourself soon after, stretching out your hand for a handshake and watching him let out a little chuckle and uncross his arms again, shaking your hand, his large palm covering yours without any effort.

"A pretty name for a pretty little princess." Derek teased and then pointed to the crowded gym. "So, little princess... Don't you want to join us?"

Derek's question caught you off guard and you denied it, giving a half smile. "It's not my style. But thank you, I really admire those who follow this routine." You told him and he nodded, hoping you would continue saying anything just so he could hear your sweet voice. "The one over there that brought me here." You pointed to your best friend, who was looking at both of you with a prankish and excited look, as if she was noticing the obvious flirting even from a distance.

Morgan nodded, giving your friend a smile and a brief wave before turning back to you. "She seems like a nice girl. She's been training here for a while now." You agreed with his words. In fact, your friend was one of the best people you had ever met. Kind, funny, beautiful and with a perfect gym body. It was impossible not to be interested in her. "And your favorite hobbies?"

That surprised you a little, since you were absolutely sure Derek would stop flirting after you showed him your friend. Maybe this was just a stupid manly trick. "I like reading and watching movies when I'm not at work."

Derek smiled, crossing his arms for the second time. "An avid reader, then. You'd definitely get along great with Reid." You frowned at his joke. "Who's Reid?"

"One of my best friends and co-worker at the BAU." Derek told you and you were silent for a few seconds before you huffed, moving further to the corner so other people could fill up their water bottles at the gym's water fountain if they wanted. "If you have a crush on my best friend and this is just a way to suggest that you two go on a double date with me and your friend Reid, I have to say that's the worst flirting I've ever seen in my whole life."

Your bitter words left him indignant and in complete awkward silence, a loud laugh leaving his full lips when he finally spoke, wiping away the tear that fell from his brown eye. "Do you really think I have a crush on your friend, princess? If I liked her, I would just go up to her and ask for her number, I wouldn't pretend to have a crush on you and plan a double date just so I could have a least chance of talking to her."

You raised an eyebrow, stuttering and your hands shaking to try to hide your embarrassment. "But... You've already known her here at the academy for months..."

Derek nodded, the mocking and funny expression still on his face. "Exactly. I've known her long enough to have asked her out on a date if I was interested. I wouldn't waste time."

Not really knowing what to do, you looked away and scratched the back of your head, feeling like an idiot for not realizing that Morgan was trying to flirt with you. Having someone like into you seemed so surreal that you could hardly believe it was true. It seemed like a silly prank.

"So... How about a pub after my workout? I bet your friend won't mind lending you to me tonight."

You did not have a very good history with relationships or dating in general. You avoided having casual relationships due to some previous disappointments and you certainly would not have accepted Derek Morgan's invitation if he was not so... Perfect.

Agreeing to go with him to the pub after his and your friend's training had already been quite a step. There was a certain fear in drinking with strangers, especially when they were men. But Derek made you feel so comfortable during the date that you laughed more with him than with all the boys you had ever been involved with. He was charming, even if he was a womanizer.

Either way, you did not care. You felt so excited that just some kisses were enough for you to let yourself go to his house.

Both of you were the opposite of what you always looked for in your partners. You were more used to being involved with introvert nerdy boys. Derek was more used to having sex with gym girls or women who looked like supermodels.

And everything felt so right yet.

"You sure you're not virgin?" Morgan teased as he ripped off the gray shirt he was wearing and clinging to his biceps, making you distracted by the beautiful sight of his black skin and his strong body before you focusing on what he had asked.

"Yeah. Absolutely sure." You grumbled, legs still closed since he removed the skirt you were wearing. "I'm just... I'm just..."

"Just shy?" He smirked, gently opening your legs and exposing your pink cotton panties, already damp from the intense kisses you two exchanged along the way. You cursed yourself for not wearing a lace lingerie, the cotton fabric looking so childish for the situation that you could hardly believe Derek was still horny. "Something like that..."

Your begrudging admission made him chuckle, his large hand sliding down to the stain on your panties, where he rubbed a few circles that made you gasp. "You don't need to be so shy, princess." Morgan's finger continued caressing your clit through the cloth and you were no longer able to think straight, so he continued, his free hand going up inside your shirt, also caressing your petite breasts as you finally let out a louder moan. "Holy shit... You're so fucking wet."

Your cheeks turned pinker and you nodded, looking at him with big puppy eyes, desperate for more touch. Your hand went up to his biceps, holding and pulling him closer, so he could kiss you again. A little smirk escaped Morgan's lips while his strong body was on top of yours, covering you completely as he kissed you, his soft mouth tasting yours as his fingers pushed your panties to the side and rubbed your clit without any fabric getting in the way.

His fingers were cold compared to your warm pussy, you could feel it very well when Derek inserted his middle finger into you, fucking you slowly when he saw you holding your breath and widening your eyes. The lack of sex over the past months has made you more sensitive and tight than usual.

"Fuck, princess..." The movements started to get faster and you moaned almost pathetically, your legs shaking and your body trying to move away from his hand reflexively. "Shhh, relax..."

You whimpered, spreading your legs even wider to try and make the process easier. Derek smirked proudly at the sight of your pussy tightening his finger as you worked hard to get him deep, your tight velvety walls becoming softer when he added his ring finger too.

A whining of pain echoed through the room. But not unbearable pain, just the pain of stretching. "Such a tight little pussy..." Morgan growled, fingering you and reaching down to begin trailing wet kisses down your skinny thighs. "Attagirl... You're so hot..."

You smiled at Derek, the shyness remaining but now also feeling proud of yourself at the sight of Derek's cock tight in his gym shorts, desperately wanting to break free and be inside you, fucking you.

Your eyes narrowed when Morgan nibbled the lower part of your thighs until he reached your groin, kissing your clit, so fast and soft that it made you shiver and squeeze his fingers by impulse. "Derek, please..." Your whining might seem stupid, but to Morgan it was the cutest and sexiest thing he had ever heard. He smirked after running his tongue over your wet folds, licking some of your dripping juices.

"You think you can handle one more finger, princess?"

His question made you stop moaning, your vision now focused on his hand, his two fingers still fucking you rough and fast. They were too big, the possibility of one more inside was almost like being ripped in half. Two fingers inside you was what you were used to.

However, you did not care much about the pain. You wanted every inch of Morgan inside you. You wanted to feel him deep down, you wanted every second of that sex to be worth it. You wanted Derek to make you feel so much pleasure to the point that you squirted effortlessly into his hand, until you wet his face and chest.

"Four..." You whispered between moans when he interspersed the fingerfucking with the caresses of your clit caused by his thumb. Morgan looked at you confused, at first not understanding what you were suggesting. "Four fingers, Derek. I need this..."

Derek gave you a dimpled smile, chuckling softly and licking your clit again, the tip of his index finger already ready to enter you. He licked your folds for the third time before teasing you. "What a pretty and greedy little pussy..."

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

i have a request for bombshell!reader if you're up for it!! <33 maybe somehow the team finding out that they're *actually* together and their reactions to it!! it would be soo funny i think naisnakaka 😭 thank you and i hope you have a good day!!

thank you lovely, you too ♡ fem

Emily isn't expecting it. She's been betting on you both for months, she has money in the pool, but knowing you're together versus really truly seeing you together are surprisingly separate things.

Spencer has you up against a wall. It's funny but it isn't, how shockingly intimate the moment is, how you're looking at him like he's hung the moon just for you. “It's not a bad thing,” you're saying, a hand pressed softly to his front.

He's not kissing you or anything salacious, he's not even really shoving you, he's just got his hands on you, one on your shoulder holding you to the wall and the other just under your arm. “I know it's not, don't worry–”

“I do worry. I don't want you thinking that anything about you is wrong.”

Emily should walk away. This is clearly private, but she's just never seen you both like this. She had her suspicions, that behind the shy touches (and the more confident ones from you) and secret smiles was a real, intimate relationship, but to see it displayed in front of her has her jaw dropping.

“I don't think that," he says quietly, ducking his head in a way that forces you to make eye contact. Emily might call it brave, but it would be better labelled as comfortable. Spencer's not shy because he knows he can be vulnerable with you, and he's reassuring you now because you can do the same. “Why would I think that?” He kisses you.

It's sudden. Emily almost gasps.

He pulls away, says, “You don't need to think about that kind of stuff, angel, I know who I am,” over your lips, and then he kisses you again.

“I just love you,” you say, words half lost in the kissing and the quiet.

Emily shakes herself and backs away, guilt like lead in her fingertips. She should not have watched so long, no matter how curious, but it's not as though you're in a private place, it's a shared conference room—

“What's with the face?”

Emily waves her hand, as if to say, don't talk, but Morgan's a fiend and JJ not much better, looking over Emily's shoulder eager for the drama. “What, Prentiss?” Morgan asks.

“Y/N and Spencer,” she whispers, giving in.

Morgan's face is a picture, and predictable. He shuffles around Emily and JJ follows, her lips parted in surprise.

Morgan peeks inside, and doubles back, pushing JJ before she can get a look. “Wait!” she insists in a whisper shout.

“That's not PG viewing.”

Emily saw it herself, but she still can't believe it. Nor can she believe when you appear from the conference room together unabashed ten minutes later, Spencer's hair in disarray, his cheeks (and his whole face) a rosy pink. You sit at your desk and Spencer touches your shoulder, promising you a cup of coffee.

You're smiling as you reapply your lipstick. Your teammates look on in poor acts of casualness.

“You guys are perverts,” you murmur, rubbing your lips together to spread the colour evenly.

“I– we–” Emily sits back in her seat, defeated. “You could've told us.”

“Should've,” JJ says.

“Thought you guys already knew.” You put the cap back on your lipstick and beam at them. “I'm not subtle, am I? But don't tease him too much, okay? We wouldn't want to torture him.”

“Come on,” Morgan laughs.

Spencer returns with your coffee. He's not subtle, either, come to think of it, putting your coffee mug carefully on your coaster. “That okay?” he asks.

You don't even try it. “That's perfect, handsome, thank you.”

He strokes the soft line of your jaw with the back of his finger, a split second touch that practically glances off of you, and heads back to the kitchenette. Morgan gets up, presumably to chase him down for congratulations, while the girls move in.

“It's actually funny how it happened,” you say immediately. “I kissed him by accident.”

“How do you kiss someone by accident?” JJ asks. Emily nods furiously in agreement.

“Surprisingly easily,” you say, looking as pleased as a person can be. “It was a few weeks ago, we were in the police precinct in Jacobsville…”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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writting-stuff-sometimes · 27 days ago

Text

Play with fire Pt 2- LN4 X Fem reader

Pairing: Lando x Y/n Fewtrell

Warnings: physical Fight

Notes: Here's the second part, it gets messy but I'm almost done with part 3, so it won't be long for it to get better. As always, feedback is really appreciated, and receiving requests.

Thanks for the love.

Part 1

_______

It was the sixth month anniversary with Lando and you had planned to spend one whole week together in Mónaco. As part of the plan, he leased a villa and invited Max, Pietra, and a couple friends to Nice for the last days of the summer break. A few days later he lied and told them he was needed back at the MTC a week early but convinced them to stay back for the remaining days, and you lied to your parents saying you were spending that week with Leah, your bff.

It was day 3 of eating junk food, watching trash TV, and having sex 24/7. You had never been more in love with the man sleeping beside you. Your head on his chest, his soft snoring so relaxing you had no idea how you would be able to fall asleep without him every night.

"Hey mate, are you here?" Your brother's voice made your heart stop. Were you dreaming? "Bob!" Yup, it was your brother.

"Lan, baby" you moved him softly enough not to scare him.

"Yaaaawww" He yawned loudly "Hi bab-"You covered his mouth. His eyes stared at you confused.

"Max is here" You whispered.

"What?"

"Lando, are you here mate? Your car is in the garage" You could see his soul leave his body.

"What is he doing here?" you asked

"No idea!"

You heard a suitcase rolling down the hallway.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" You started panicking.

"Shh, everything is going to be ok. Stay here" he kissed your lips and stood up, putting on his boxers and joggers. "Be right back" he whispered, and walked out, closing the door behind him. You stood up, put on your pajamas, and rushed to press your ear to the door.

"Hey Mate"

"Oh hey, I thought you were at the MTC"

"Oh, yeah, we finished early"

"It's Wednesday, I thought you were staying there the whole week"

"Yeah, nah, came back this morning"

"That must be a record"

"Yeah, great results"

"Sounds like it"

"What are you doing here?" Lando was trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but damn was he a bad actor.

"Oh, I messaged you yesterday, P, wasn't feeling well so we decided to return early. You didn't get it?"

"I...I don't even know where I left my phone"

"Oook" Your brother stared at Lando trying to figure out why he was behaving weirdly.

"So, I'm hungry. Do you want to go eat something? Do you want to go get some pizza?" Lando tried to get Max away from the house so you had enough time to figure out a plan. As much as he had been waiting and begging for you to come clean, this was not how he would like to do it.

"Nah, thanks. Actually, P is downstairs sleeping in the car. Plus, I'm not sure if I'm tired from the drive or if I've caught whatever she has; I feel weird, so I'm just taking a quick shower, and I'll spend the night over at her hotel in case she needs something."

"Oh, ok, yeah, that sounds good" You and Lando could finally breathe.

"Are you ok mate? You look flustered"

"Yeah, nah, I'm just tired, it's been quite a week"

"Yeah, I imagine. I'm going to take a quick shower and will be out of here so you can rest"

"Ok, fine, yes"

Your brother went to the guest room, Lando waited until Max's door was closed to go inside his.

"Fuck, that was scary" You whispered still worried Max could hear you from across the hall. "And you're such a terrible actor"

"Hey, I'm not that bad"

"Yeah, you are" You hugged him, placing your head against his chest as his hands caressed your hair. The sound of the shower calming your rushing hearts.

"I have to admit tho" He pushed you away lightly so you were facing him. "This was kind of hot"

"What?"

"Yeah, like this rush, it makes me almost not want to tell him and see how much we can keep sneaking around"

"You're sick" You stared at him, a half smile on your face.

"This is what you've done to me, you've made me a sick, obsessed, unsatiable man" He made a fist with your hair and pulled you to join your lips in a wild kiss.

"Mate, do you have-" Your brother knocked on Lando's door but opened it immediately, a beautiful habit he's had since childhood.

You all stared at each other in shock.

It was a scene straight out of a comedy or a horror movie, depending on who you asked.

You could see your bother's mouth trying to voice his thoughts, but there were too many. The moment you saw his jaw clench you knew you had to speak before Lando did. You loved the man but even with all the PR training, he was the worst at this kind of situation.

"Max, listen" You started in a low voice, taking a step toward him without letting go of Lando's hand. Your bother just raised his hand, one finger up signaling you to wait. "Max, everything's fine, ok?"

"No" He said, his voice so low it was almost scary

"Yes" You tried to remain calm, and so did Lando but the thigh grip he had on your hand told you he was as nervous as you.

"You're fucking my little sister?" He finally voiced the loudest thought in his head, his eyes piercing holes into Lando's.

Not that you were sensitive to the word fuck, but this time it made your skin crawl, being used by your brother to describe what you and Lando had felt just wrong.

"Mate, wait" Lando mimicked your calm voice.

"I'm not your mate!" Your brother raised his voice and you squeezed Lando's hand as a silent request to remain calm. "Mates-don't-fuck- their-mates-sisters" You could see his arms tense, his fingers white from the tight fists.

"We're not fucking" He answered.

"Oh no? Then what's happening here?" He walked in the room pacing around in a frenetic way.

"Both your clothes everywhere, the bed a fucking mess, the condom box on the nightstand? Tell me Lando, what is it that I'm seeing?"

"Max, listen" Max's eyes fixed on your intertwined fingers.

"You shut up, wait until Mom and Dad know about this"

"Don't talk to her like that" Lando tried to defend you but you placed your hand on his chest trying to hold him back.

"I'm not a child anymore Max, I'm a grown-up"

"Oh please, you're a freaking child, and fucking Lando proves it"

"Whether you like it or not, I'm an adult now, and I get to choose who I date, no matter what you or our parents have to say about it"

"Date? You're dating him?"

"Yes" You answered confidently.

"Listen, mate, I love her, ok?" His voice in a calm yet confident tone that made your heart rush with love.

"I'm going to kill you"

"Max" You could read in his body language he was about to lose it.

"I'm going to kill you, Lando"

"Max, wait, please" You tried to place yourself between them but before you knew it your brother was pushing Lando against one of the walls, his forearm pressing his neck as he pushed him hard, Lando tried to push Max away without hurting him.

"Max, wait, what the fuck?" You tried to get close to them.

"Y/n, no, stand back" Lando yelled at you when he saw you were getting closer.

"You're a fucking morron" Your brother kept pushing Lando against the wall.

You rushed to the nightstand and took your phone from the charger ringing Pietra.

"Hello?" The calm sleepy voice on the other side of the line was the complete opposite of the scene right in front of you. You felt bad for bringing her into this, but you needed help to get your bother to calm down, and she was your best option.

"P, you need to get up here, please"

"Y/n? Where are you?"

"Lando's apartment, please, get up here now!" You hung up hoping she was on her way.

"Mate, listen to me, I swear to God, this is not what you think" Lando tried to use his calmest voice possible, trying just to cover himself from the fists being thrown around by your brother.

"Max, stop it! You're behaving like an animal, stop!" You tried to get your brother off your boyfriend but he kept pushing you back.

You heard the door panel beep and then the door opened.

"Over here!" you yelled trying to lead her to the master bedroom, not that the sound of stuff being thrown around wasn't going to lead her there anyway,

"What's happening?" She stared in shock at the scene in front of her "Max, stop it" She tried to approach the fighting men but they pushed her back too.

"Maximilian, you have to calm down, now!" P's voice actually worked, getting your brother to stand back.

"P, this is between Lando and me"

"No, it's not!" You yelled back at him.

"You shut up! Grab your things, you're coming with me right away"

"No"

"Y/n, I'm not playing!"

"Neither am I, I'm not leaving with you, Max"

"Aaaahhh" Your brother screamed and squatted down covering his head with his hands. Pietra was about to walk over to him but you stopped her, asking her to let you go first.

"Max" You said softly walking over to him. Slowly you placed your hand over his shoulder "Max, please you have to listen to us, please"

"Screw you two" He stood up, took P's hand, and walked out of the apartment slamming the front door.

You sighted in defeat, at least he wasn't punching Lando anymore, but it was so painful to see your brother so hurt.

"Baby" You walked over to Lando who was walking back to the bed, holding his ribcage "Are you ok?"

"Yes, I've had worst on track"

"Let me see" You held his face inspecting it, he had a couple of red bruises here and there, but most of the damage had been done to his chest and shoulders. You started shaking.

"Baby" You hugged him, falling to your knees in front of him, tears finally flooding your eyes.

"Shhh it's ok, it will all be ok" He hugged you tightly against his chest, he could feel slight pain but soothing you was more important.

He pulled you up and placed you on the bed, holding your thigh against him.

"It will be ok" he said softly against your hair.

"I know" You answered back between sobs.

"Well, the cat's out of the bag" Lando tried to joke the tension away.

"You think we should've told him sooner?"

"He might have reacted the same, so I'm afraid any time would've led to the same result"

You remained on the bed, with many questions in your heads. Now that Max knew you had to tell your parents, he would probably do everything he could to have them on his side. What was going to happen to Quadrant? Not that Lando didn't trust he could convince Max this wasn't a bad thing, but fear lingered there.

You stood from the bed and started picking up the mess the fight had left.

"Baby come here-"

"Lan, this helps me, let me just... if I can't fix the situation I can at least fix this"

He stood up and helped you clean.

After what felt like an hour or two your phone dinged.

Pi 🌸 Max is calm now, he has agreed to go back up and talk with you guys, we'll be up in a second, but please no PDA for now!

"Lan, they're coming back up, let's go sit in the living room"

"So he can break more stuff?" You stared at Lando "Sorry, no more jokes"

"And no hand holding or kissing, or hugging"

"Are you serious?"

"Just until we get him to listen to everything we have to say"

"Fine"

You waited for your brother in the living room, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa.

You heard the lock panel and your heart rushed. Your brother opened the door letting Pietra in first, she walked all the way next to the sofa but your brother remained at the door.

"Ok, I'm here, talk" His voice was a version you had never heard before.

"Max, we're sorry we didn't come forward about this sooner, I'm sorry, I just, I had no idea how to tell you" You spoke first.

A sarcastic snort left his body as he crossed his arms.

"Love" Pietra stared at him.

"Fine, continue" He rolled his eyes.

If only your brother knew he was responsible for this happening.

______________________________

Part 1

If I missed someone on the tag list let me know, also let me know if you'd like to be added.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch, @f1fantasys, @formulaal, @widow-cevans

#f1 fiction #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #max fewtrell imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #lando x y/n #f1 x y/n #lando norris fluff

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mosaickiwi · 4 months ago

Text

For Two

Hello, content specifically catered to me. This might be the whole damn month.

Just an Angel that works at a BnB all alone with their stalker future spouse... :3c

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

You started your morning a little later than usual that Saturday, grateful for the extra half hour of sleep as you gathered ingredients. Only one pot of coffee to brew, one breakfast to make, one room to turnover while the guest went about their day touring the city.

You couldn't believe it.

Normally, the weekend was completely booked. This one was too, except there'd been not just one, but six no-shows yesterday. Almost every single room at the inn was empty despite being fully paid for.

Right at the usual check-in time, a single guest had shown up. Dressed in all black, a whole head taller than you, eyes that looked as tired as you felt from rushing around all day, and only a small duffel bag slung over one shoulder, they didn't look like the type of tourist you usually had this time of year. But who were you to judge?

The refreshments you set out didn't go to waste, though. He went back for seconds and thirds as you showed them to their room… then around the house… then around the garden while constantly on the lookout for other guests pulling up in their rental cars.

Oddly, he seemed more interested in you than the city. Rather than attractions on the pier or night life, the conversation flowed towards a few hobbies you found in common. Before you knew it, the sun had long since set, and no other soul had arrived for check-ins. You carried on with him a while longer, ending the night in a good mood despite the strange, once in a lifetime occurrence.

It felt like talking with an old friend. You wondered if the chat over breakfast would be just as nice.

The coffee machine loudly beeped, disturbing your current task. You stopped and poured it all into a thermos, then set it in the small woven carrier you'd prepared with a mug, creamers, sugars, and a pair of neatly wrapped shortbread cookies. You quietly took it up the stairs to your sole guest's room to set it at the door.

Just as you approached, the door opened with messy black hair and lightly flushed cheeks in greeting. He was the smallest bit shorter without the boots. No piercings in this early in the morning, but even his pajamas were all black. The tiny ghosts on his pants were cute.

The man's blue eyes came to life at the sight of you and he smiled. "Mornin'," they spoke in that soft, raspy voice you'd gotten acquainted with yesterday.

"Beat me to it. Good morning, Ren." You smiled back with ease. "Did you sleep well?"

"Perfect, actually." They yawned, eyeing the basket in your hands as they stretched. "All that f'me before 7am.? Fuck, y'might really be an angel." He paused and rubbed at his lower lip. "Sorry."

You held the basket out to him. "I heard nothing. No worries," you said. It was hard to tell if he was apologizing for cursing or flirting. Was he flirting?

He took the carrier, but still stood in the doorway, drumming his fingers on the sides as if thinking of what to say. "Soo… how d'you usually do these cute little coffee baskets for two people?"

"Two?" You hurriedly racked your brain. You were pretty sure his reservation was for one. He did have the door code already. Maybe he let his companion in late last night?

Did you need to make more coffee? Or tea? Did they have dietary restrictions you didn't know about for breakfast?!

Shit, shit, shit.

You never got to greet them and get their name and if they were still sleeping it'd be rude to wake them up just to ask and you couldn't expect a five star review anyways at this point but this—

"Ah, I meant…" The man interrupted your silent panic with a surprisingly nervous tone. He shifted slightly, fingers tapping even louder. "If ya wanted t'join me. I mean, I'm the only one here so I thought y'wouldn't be too busy with breakfast."

Ohh. He was flirting. Your job be damned.

"Breakfast would have to be a little late… but if you don't mind, okay."

Ren smiled a lot brighter this time. "Great. I'll get changed and meet you downstairs in a few, yeah?"

You wanted to tell them there was no need to change with how adorable his PJs were, but kept it to yourself. You couldn't tease them like that yet. "Sure thing."

#14 days with you #14dwy redacted #14dwy #14dwy ren #momo writing #sorry it's 1am for me #normal hours are not real #self indulgence babyyy #I want redacted to come play house with me #I can cook I can clean #green titles = I'm being weird and strange 🖤

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authorhjk1 · 6 months ago

Note

Wendy in this tight fitting goodness…soft on the outside, yummier when inside.

Hazel

(Wendy X Male Reader)

You know it's a trap. Wendy can't be that naive. Although Seulgi, Joy and Yeri aren't there, you and Irene are. And Wendy knows that. And yet, the door to her room is cracked open. And yet, she is clearly kneeling on the bed, getting herself off. And yet, she freely moans your name.

You could've sworn the door was closed as you headed for the bathroom. But it isn't anymore. If that doesn't scream trap, what does?

Should you risk it? Since Wendy is moaning your name, you doubt she would have a problem with you making her fantasy, whatever that might be, real. But then again, she might stop you and tell Irene. That's not a problem, but it would ruin the mood.

A desperate whine escapes Wendy's lips and you see her tremble. Taking a closer look, you realize she is humping a teddy bear. The one you gave Irene a couple months back.

You decide that, even if it's not a trap, this is more than enough invitation for you to act. Except for Yeri, Wendy is the only one of Irene's members, whom you haven't fucked yet. And the way she was just humping the bear makes it obvious that she needs it too.

"Wendy."

You open the door and step inside.

"Oh my god!"

Wendy almost screams. You can see different emotions wash over her face, before she covers it with her hands. Surprise, shock, embarrassment, shame.

"Hey, this is nothing to be ashamed of. Do you know how often I think of fucking you, while I'm inside Irene?"

Her surprised face makes you grin.

"Can you blame me? You are beautiful. You have this small waist, those thighs, that ass..."

You stop, waiting for her reply. But Wendy still covers half her face with her hands.

"It'd love to just..."

The sentence lingers in the air between you two.

"May I?"

"W-What?"

Why is she acting this surprised? Did she really leave the door open by accident? No way.

"May I fuck you?"

"W-What about Irene unnie? You're her-"

"Just pretend I'm yours. What do you like?"

You reach her bed as you talk.

Wendy looks up at you, before looking down at herself. Her brown dress is still covering her body. But it doesn't hide the beautiful curves this girl has.

"I-I want to be on top."

"You want to ride me?"

Wendy nods and you lie down next to her. She moves back to give you room. The bear she just came on is forgotten. She is now straddling you, quickly regaining her confidence. As she pulls your pants off of you, she notices that you're already hard. The product of having fucked Irene for the last two hours and seeing Wendy getting herself off, while thinking about you.

"This is nice."

Wendy says as she slowly strokes your shaft.

You reach forward and grab the hem of her dress. Moving it upwards, you reveal more and more of her thighs, until you expose her core. No underwear. You can tell that Wendy is pretty wet. The result of her recent orgasm.

"You don't need to do anything. Just be rough with me, when I'm about to...."

You nod, understanding what she means.

A moment later, Wendy's lips graze your tip, before she slowly lowers herself onto your cock.

"Damn, Wendy."

You groan. She is tighter than expected. Way tighter. Her pussy wraps around your cock as if it was made for it. Her warmth seems to suck you in.

Wendy sighs heavily as she lowers herself further and further. Eventually, she reaches your base. Her eyes are closed. You wait for her to start.

Soon, Wendy starts to fuck herself with your cock. You let your hands wander over her clothed body. Admiring her figure, you occasionally squeeze her nipples, which poke through the fabric.

"It feels so much better than I thought it would."

You can't hide your smile as you hear Wendy's compliment. Her bouncing soon becomes faster. Her snug walls hug you tight. You feel her abs flex when you place one of your hands on her tummy, while the other moves around her to squeeze one of her ass cheeks.

Caught by surprise, Wendy lets out a louder moan. You feel how she occasionally falls out of her rhythm as she drives herself closer towards the orgasm she has been longing for.

This is your cue. You place both your hands on her waist and raise your thighs, by pulling your feet towards you a little.

"Oh god!"

Wendy hisses, feeling how she slides down your cock just that tiny bit further.

Thanks to your new position, you can freely start to thrust upwards, while making Wendy bounce on your cock.

Her moans quickly turn into cries. Her nails dig themselves into your thighs, but you work through it. It's only a small price to pay, if you are able to experience Wendy's snug pussy.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Her chant tells you she is close.

You keep thrusting upwards as you pull her down simultaneously. As she is being impaled on your cock, Wendy loses control over her body. Soon, she finally orgasms. Her pussy contracts around your cock. Her nails scratch at your thighs. Her mouth lets out a long melodic cry. Irene must've heard at least that one.

"Wendy."

You groan, suddenly aware that you are inside of her without a condom.

"Are you...?"

Wendy shakes her head. Fuck.

You are almost there already. A couple of seconds more...

You lift Wendy off your cock, just enough so she lands on you lap right behind it, her back supported by your thighs. You immediately climax, shooting your load all over her. Wendy's dress gets painted by your cum.

"Oh my gosh!"

She laughs at the mess you made.

--------

Just a quick update on my situation:

My exams are starting now, which means I don't have much time to write for the next two months. I can dedicate about an hour per day to writing for you guys, but not more. Which means I will write a colour chapter every day, plus work on the requests and the first part of the new series. I'm around halfway done with the first chapter, so I hope I can show it to you guys soon. The requests I'm focusing on right now are the third part of the Home series and a smaller part of the Sana series.

Stay healthy, everyone!

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #red velvet #wendy red velvet #wendy smut #wendy #red velvet smut

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mayajadewrites · 4 days ago

Text

deprivation

shota aizawa x reader

characters: shota aizawa, fem! reader

synopsis: the teachers of UA are out at a bar for their weekly happy hour. aizawa is (reluctantly) there, sipping on a beer after a long week of dealing with his students. reader has had a long week dealing with her own classes and other hero work, so she's letting loose tonight.

warnings: alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), smut!!!

IM BACK! this is the first thing i've written in months so pls be kind to me :) i've missed u guys!

"Another round, bartender!" Present Mic, Hizashi, slams down his shot glass and smiles at the bartender with his pearly white teeth as he lowers his glasses on his nose.

You feel the warm liquid go down your throat as you throw back yet another shot - courtesy of Hizashi and Nemuri. Your mouth curves into a pout as you feel the burning sensation down your esophagus, shaking your head.

"Fuck, what was that? Acid?" You take a sip of water, shaking your head as you look over at Shota Aizawa, who's leaning lazily on the wall next to the table, his gaze lazily on you.

"Tequila." He speaks up quietly before sipping on his beer. He has his hair half up, half down and his sleeves are rolled up slightly so you can see his forearms. His muscular, manly forearms.

The truth is, you've had feelings for Aizawa for awhile now. You're pretty good at masking them, however you can have to stop yourself from letting your feelings crawl up your throat and out of your mouth.

You've known Aizawa for about 3 years, been friendly and even had some lunches together in the faculty break room.

He's a friend. A coworker. A colleague. And he doesn't do relationships, according to... well, everyone.

Being a teacher and a hero means your schedule is always busy. Almost no time to relax, except the weekly happy hour.

"Well, it's gross." You look up at Aizawa for a moment before turning your attention back to Hizashi and Nemuri.

Aizawa chuckles lightly before shaking his head, going back to being quiet and observing.

Another drink can't hurt.

It must've been a couple hours later, but you've lost most of the control of your limbs and mind. Shot after shot, drink after drink - your mind was hazy.

Your eyes are half lidded as you rest your cheek on your palm, shamelessly staring at Aizawa as you give him a warm, drunk smile.

"You're cut off." He says, putting his beer bottle on the table. You give him an uncharacteristic pout, leaning up slightly.

"You're no fun." You stand up, almost falling as you try to stand up straight. You feel large, warm hands on your hips, catching you before you fall.

When you look up, you're almost hypnotized by the dark eyes that are staring back at you.

"I'm taking you home." Aizawa says, grabbing his jacket, then helping you put yours on.

When you lift your arms, a pout is still on your face as he pulls the sleeves over your arms. He's treating you like a child. "I can put my jacket on myself."

Aizawa looks at you, giving you a knowing look before he rolls his eyes, pulling your sleeves up. He doesn't answer verbally, but you know he's saying some sarcastic remark in his head.

You pull your purse over your shoulder, running your fingers through your hair to try to gain some sort of control. To feel something.

You feel the strands of your hair, taking a breath as you look down. How did you get so drunk? Did the bartender put more liquor in the drinks than usual?

You feel Aizawa's large hand grip your arm, gently pulling you out of the bar. You hear a mess of drunk goodbyes, most of the other teachers probably won't even remember you left.

The cold air hits your skin when you walk outside, immediately crossing your arms over your chest. Aizawa looks down at you, giving you a soft smirk before taking his keys out of his pocket to unlock his car.

Like the gentleman he is, he ushers you into the passenger seat, closing the door softly. You lean your head on the window, closing your eyes as you try to breathe slowly.

"You okay for me to drive?" He looks at you, the keys already in the ignition.

You only nod, your hands on your thighs as your fingers fumble with the rips in your jeans.

"I'm sorry you have to drive me home." You say after a few minutes of silence.

"I'd rather me take you home then you get in some Uber drunk." His eyes are on the road, not looking at you for a second.

Your eyes fall down his arms to his hands, almost mesmerized by them. His hands are big, slightly rough from his years of teaching and hero work, the veins visible.

Fuck.

When he pulls up to your apartment, you sigh as you look at the front of your building. Aizawa looks at you, finally, and huffs softly. "Come on, before you throw up in my car."

Was the apartment clean enough? Did you leave your clothes out that you were picking out before work?

It's too late to give a shit now.

You unlock the front door to the apartment, sighing as you took your shoes off and looked around the room. It's not messy, thank goodness.

Your cat Salem (yes he's an all black cat, how cliche but cute), trots up to the door and rubs his body against your calves, stopping in front of Aizawa. You didn't look, but you could feel the glare Salem was giving him.

When you turn around to look at Aizawa in the doorway, your cheeks flush pink. He's leaning against the doorframe, his broad shoulders on full display as your eyes wander his body.

When you finally look in his eyes, he's already looking into yours.

"Are you okay if I go?" He clears his throat, standing up straight, looking away from you for a moment.

No. Fuck no, it's not okay. You wanted to say.

It might be the liquor talking, but - "N-no. I'm not okay for you to leave."

Aizawa blinks, looking rather confused as he stays leaning against the doorframe. "Why not? Are you gonna be sick or something?"

You close your eyes, pressing your palms to your face as you sigh, shaking your head.

"My quirk isn't mind reading, you know. You have to tell me what you're thinking." He steps into your apartment. Just one step, but a step none the less.

You remove your hands from your face, looking up at him as he steps closer to you. Damn, he's handsome. His hair is wavy, some pieces framing his face, a slight pink in his cheeks from the cold temperature outside.

"I want you to stay here with me." You slur your words slightly, wincing after hearing the way they came out. He gives you a sympathetic look, shaking his head slightly.

"I don't know if-"

"What, you have a girlfriend? A wife? A fuck buddy?" The liquor keeps talking. You're more confident now as you speak, but the liquor in your system has nearly taken over.

"No, I don't. But you're drunk, and -"

"And what!" Your voice is almost a whine when you look up at him. He's looking down at you, a slight - very slight smirk on his lips as he speaks slowly.

"You just need to sleep, okay? I'll help you -" He reaches his hand out to usher you to your bedroom, but you refuse to leave from the spot you stand.

He's still touching your arm, but you're closer to him now. You can smell his cologne, musk with a hint of vanilla. Your fingers gently press to his broad chest, gauging his reaction.

He doesn't move, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. You toy with the button on his shirt, pressing it between your thumb and index finger.

When you look up into his eyes, he's staring into yours again. This time he doesn't look away.

This is it. This is your shot.

You lean in, pressing your palm flat onto his chest as you stand on your tippy toes, your lips hovering in front of his as you close your eyes.

"No." He whispers, his large hand moving to the back of your head to stop you from falling back. "You're drunk."

You huff, opening your eyes and looking at him through your lashes. "So what? I know what I'm doing, Shota."

The man's fingers lace in your hair, caressing your scalp gently as he looks in your eyes, the look on his face far softer than you've seen.

"If I kiss you, I want you to remember it." His tone is so... affectionate. Soft. As if he wants to make sure the words don't hurt.

"Please stay." You look in his eyes again, pleading. "Stay on the couch, please. Just don't leave. Don't leave me."

After a moment, he nods, moving his hand out of your hair and to the small of your back. "Let's get you ready for bed."

Once you had your pajamas on, brushed your teeth and did your skincare, you hand Aizawa a pillow and blanket for the couch, giving him a soft, still intoxicated smile.

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me. Sleep well." He lays down on the couch, pulling his phone out to scroll as he lays the blanket on his body.

You don't remember going to bed, but you do remember the butterflies you felt in your stomach as you closed your door.

The next morning your head is pounding, but apparently your guardian angel left a glass of water on your nightstand along with Advil. You silently thank this angel, taking a sip of the water with the Advil, sitting up on your bed. Salem is curled up next to you in bed - his usually spot.

7AM.

Quietly, you open the door from your bedroom, peering into the living room, looking for Aizawa. The blanket was neatly folded on the couch along with the pillow.

No Aizawa.

You sigh, your hand pressed to the doorframe as you feel the sadness seep through your pores. He really left in the middle of the night?

Of course he did. He owes you nothing. He's just your colleague, coworker.

When you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wake yourself up, you hear your front door open.

With your toothbrush in your mouth, you walk out to the living room, eyes widening when you see the figure at the door.

Aizawa. With a bag of bagels and coffees.

"Good morning to you too." He says flatly, putting the breakfast and coffees on the counter as he takes off his shoes.

When Salem heard Aizawa's voice, he hopped off the bed and walked over to him, rubbing along his legs. You raise an eyebrow, watching the interaction.

Coming out from the bathroom after finishing brushing your teeth, you raise an eyebrow. "I thought you left."

"You thought I would leave without saying goodbye?" He presses his palm to his chest, feigning pain. "I'm not that kind of man."

"Well what else was I supposed to think? You took me home, helped my drunk ass get ready for bed, and I even tried to kiss you. I wouldn't blame you for escaping." You look down, sighing as you feel the embarrassment from last night. "I'm so sorry, by the way."

Aizawa didn't respond, only getting plates and napkins from the cabinets, opening a few to see where everything is. "You're awfully organized."

"I know." Slowly, you walk up to the kitchen island, leaning on the counter as you smell the savory aroma of the bagels, grabbing your iced coffee from the drink tray. "You remembered my coffee order? We've only gotten coffee together once."

"Yeah." His back is to you, his reaction unseen as he puts the bagels on plates, your eyes wandering to his broad shoulders, cascading down to his waist.

Breakfast was spent together, talking about the past week of teaching and enjoying each others company. With Aizawa, you can be yourself. Effortlessly.

When you finish your bagel, you lean your palm onto your cheek, letting your eyes wander to his gaze, a soft smile on your lips.

"What?" He his tone is lighter than usual, not as stoic and flat.

"You have cream cheese on your lip." You smile softly, reaching your thumb out, hovering over his lips. "May I?"

He nods, leaning his head towards yours slightly, his dark eyes looking down into yours as your thumb gracefully presses to his bottom lip, wiping off the cream cheese.

Bravely, you bring your thumb to your lips, tongue darting out to taste before pushing it into your mouth, your lips wrapped around your thumb as you keep your eyes on his.

Aizawa's face turned slightly pink, but his expression was still solid.

You stare at him, speaking softer than before as your body leans in slightly closer to his.

His heartbeat slightly increased, his head tilting slightly to the side. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

Fuck, his voice is like velvet.

"The fact that I'm not drunk right now." You clear your throat, giving him a lazy smile. "And I still want to kiss you."

A noise came from his throat, it sounded almost like a purr. His eyes are hypnotizing, half-lidded as he leans in, bringing his large hand to your cheek.

"Are you sure?" He whispers, letting his thumb gently caress your cheek.

When you nod, he doesn't waste another second.. He presses his plush lips to yours in a soft, slow kiss. His hand slides down to the side of your neck, letting his fingers gently wrap around. His thumb grazed the front column of your neck, earning a soft noise from you.

When he heard the noise, he needed more. You let your hands press to his chest, gripping his shirt between your fingers as you part your lips slightly as your lips move in time with his.

You felt his fingers press gently against your throat, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he takes a sharp breath through his nose, deepening the kiss.

"Sh-Shota." You mumble against his lips, pulling his shirt to get him closer to you.

"Mm?"

"Bed. Please."

Aizawa's hands must have been crafted by the Greek Gods themselves, they fit perfectly on your body as he slid his palms from your neck to your ass, lifting you up as he stands, one of his hands grabbing your thigh to wrap around him. His lips stayed on your skin, kissing your neck, chest, the valley between your breasts - like he was addicted.

Once he opened the door to your bedroom, to your bed that was left unmade, he gently laid you down on your back, his eyes wandering over your figure before crawling on top of you.

You both hear a soft meow - Salem at the door looking for attention.

"Sorry kid, I have to give your mommy some special attention." Aizawa gently shoos him from the door, closing the door gently before turning his gaze back to you. "Where were we?"

Aizawa's lips tasted like black coffee, his natural scent invading your senses. You couldn't keep your hands off of him - from his jawline, across his stubble, his chest, biceps, no part of him was off limits.

Contrary to his stoic appearance, he's a very attentive, caring lover. His hands cascaded down your body, occasionally bringing them to your thick thighs, squeezing the skin as his tongue slips into your mouth.

Your fingers run through his wavy black hair, moaning into his mouth as you grip on the inky strands. You could feel him hardening above you, pressing his pelvis against your thigh.

"Sh-Shota." You let out a soft moan as you wrap your leg arond his waist, his hand instinctively moving to your thigh to assist you.

"Yes, kitten?" He fucking purred, moving slightly back as he looked in your eyes.

You couldn't speak, your mouth just hangs open slightly as you watch him take a hair tie from his pocket and pull his hair back. His front pieces of hair fall around his face before he leans down again, kissing your lips softly before moving his lips to your neck.

"You've always been so shy, kitten." Aizawa mumbles into your neck, biting it after his new nickname for you. "I've been waiting for you to make a move."

You furrow your eyebrows, closing your eyes as you tilt your head to the side slightly to give him more space to assault your neck.

"Why didn't you make a move first then, Eraser?"

"I didn't know if that's what you wanted." He pressed a kiss to your jawline, then your ear, then your lips as he smirked.

"You're the worst." You close your eyes to stop yourself from staring at him, biting at your lower lip to stop a moan from escaping.

"I'm the worst? I don't think you mean that." Aizawa smirks, a dirty smirk - one that you'll never forget. He lowers his body, moving down to your stomach as he pushes your oversized tshirt up, kissing your bare stomach gently as his hands pull your sweatpants down. "Is this okay?"

You nod, not able to get words out as you watch him pull your sweatpants all the way down, throwing them on the floor before his fingers hook on the side of your panties - black lace.

"These are cute." You could hear the smirk on his lips as he kisses the lace.

"The worst." You whine, your fingers pressing into your palms as your eyes roll back.

"Look at me." His voice is muffled against your thigh as he looks up at you. You look down into his beautiful dark eyes and nod, a sharp breath escaping your nostrils. "I want to see your pretty face when you come on my mouth."

He wasted no time pulling down your underwear, discarding them to the side as he pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, nestling between your thighs.

Your hand found it's way to his hair, your fingers digging into his scalp as you feel his lips get closer and closer to where you need him the most. Your hips bucked as you squirmed, his lips planting wet kisses on the inside of your thighs before his nose grazed your slit - a smirk on his lips. The slick covered the tip of his nose, causing you to shudder.

"She's excited to finally meet me."

Fuck you, Shota Aizawa.

He plants a soft kiss near your clit before pressing his tongue flat along your slit, dragging it down before devouring you.

Your fingers gripped his hair as you felt his magical tongue inside you, like you're his last meal. Your hips bucked slightly, causing him to hold onto your hips, keeping you still.

"Eyes on me, baby." He mumbles against you, the vibrations making your toes curl. This man knows how to use his tongue and you envy any other woman that's gotten to experience this.

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently as he plunges two fingers inside you, curling them as he starts pushing them deeper.

"Shota, fuck, please -"

"Please what, kitten. Use your words."

"Don't stop, y-you're perfect." Your eyes roll to the back of your head while Aizawa drinks in every moment.

Your thighs start to shake in a way that makes him squeeze your skin, not breaking eye contact as he sucks on your clit while plunging two digits in and out of you.

He can feel your spongy walls tighten around his fingers, signaling your orgasm approaching.

"That's right, baby. Come for me. Make a mess." He mumbles against you, his fingers moving faster and faster.

You start to see splotches of white in your vision, trying your best to keep your eyes on him as you come, but you're overcome by the pleasure he's giving you.

He never stops sucking, licking, and finger fucking you through your high. "Thats it kitten. You taste so good." His low, sultry voice vibrates through your entire body.

When you finally open your eyes, Aizawa rises up, your slick glistening on his plump, pink lips. You suck in a sharp breath as your chest rises and falls, your eyes never leaving his as he crawls on top of you, his hand moving to his own pants as he palms himself through the fabric.

"Let me-" You reach your hand out to touch him, but he shakes his head.

"Baby, I can't not be inside you any longer." In one swift movement, he slides his pants off, along with his boxer briefs. He takes his length in his hand, letting the tip graze your still sensitive post orgasm pussy. "My girl is still so sensitive, hm?"

You let out a whimper, your hands pressing to his shirt as you pull on the fabric, pulling it over his head. His hair is in a now messy ponytail, thanks to your fingers, and you swear you've never seen anything more beautiful.

"I'm gonna go slow, okay?"

You look down at his length in his hand, and fuck, he's big and girthy. You nod, swallowing some spit that gathered in your mouth.

Shota Aizawa is an attentive, communicative lover. He doesn't speak much outside of the bedroom, but inside - god damn.

He slowly guides himself inside of you, his eyes rolling back as he feels your spongy walls grip him, swallowing him.

"That's it, kitten. You're taking me so well." He used his free hand to run his fingers through your hair, caressing your cheek as he pushes his hips into you, filling you entirely to the hilt.

"Sh-Shota, -" You gasp as you feel him in his entirety as he plants a soft kiss on your parted lips.

"I'm gonna start moving, baby." He grunts, moving his hips to create momentum, his hand still caressing your cheek. "You're fucking perfect."

As he picks up his pace, you get lost in the pleasure. You feel like you're one with him, unlike any other parter you've had.

Aizawa keeps kissing you through this, mumbling affirmations as his own eyes roll back.

"So tight. So perfect."

"She takes me so well, like she was made for me."

"I've dreamt about this pussy."

Next thing you know, he has you in a mating press. Your legs at your head, his thick cock sheathing into you, watching him disappear inside of you.

His pupils are blown as his his jaw hangs open, completely in a trance as his hands wrap around your ankles, pushing them down.

"Sh-Shota -" You're breathless at this point, struggling to make a cohearant thought.

"I know, baby. I-I'm close." His dark eyes roll back as he thrusts become more messy, his hips almost stuttering as he empties himself inside of you.

As he climaxes, his dark brows furrow and his eyes roll back, a truly beautiful sight.

As your insides become coated in white, Aizawa finally slows down, with one last slow, deep thrust inside of you before he pulls out, rolling onto his back. He brings his palm to his forehead, breathing heavily.

"I can't believe I deprived myself for so long." He finally spoke, his red dusted cheeks fading slightly.

When you turn to look at him, he has a love struck, dumb ass look on his face. An uncharacteristic smile on his face as he pulls you closer to him, kissing your temple. "You're perfect."

Your insides truly feel rearranged. After some time, both of you falling asleep but waking back up soon after, he pecks your lips gently.

"I won't be depriving myself anymore." His voice is soft as he nuzzles his face into your neck. Your hand find its way to his hair, letting his ponytail down as a soft hum leaves your lips.

"You better not."

About 15 minutes later, you both hear a soft meow at the door, followed by sounds of claws on the door. You're laid on Aizawa's bare chest as he traces random shapes on your skin.

"Sorry kid, daddy had to take care of mommy." Aizawa smirks, kissing your temple before pulling his underwear on, padding to the door and opening it, letting Salem into the bedroom.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa #aizawa mha #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #aizawa smut #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa shōta #aizawa fanfic #shota aizawa #shota aizawa fanfic

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claramelooo · 12 days ago

Text

CRIMSON REVERIE

Hey, babies! It took me a while, but I'm here to brighten up your nights. It's been a long day, I hope you enjoy it.

Half of this chapter is just dirt, the other half is… find out ahahahah

Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warnings: +18, smut, degradation, spit

Summary: A passage of time brings a person from the past back into your life

Hey, Now I've masterlist

UNKNOW

The following months passed like a blur of intensity and desire. Your graduation was only weeks away, and the weight of expectations and preparation was nothing compared to the uncontrollable energy that seemed to envelop you and Wanda. The secret you shared was both exhilarating and suffocating, a flame threatening to spiral out of control at any moment.

The hallway was silent, the lights dim, and the atmosphere tense, but none of that mattered when you saw Wanda approaching. The night was cold, but the heat between you made the air feel stifling, as if the world around you had disappeared. Her footsteps echoed in the corridor, but it was Wanda's gaze, the one that consumed you entirely, that made your heart race.

When she got close, time seemed to slow down. The soft smile on her face spoke volumes, more than words ever could, and without a single word, you moved closer, as if there were no other choice. Wanda’s hands gently reached for your neck, and you felt your body instinctively lean toward hers, as though an invisible force was pulling you closer.

The kiss was slow at first, exploratory, but quickly turned urgent, as though the need to touch and connect was stronger than anything else. The heat between you was almost unbearable, and you felt the pressure of wanting more, of not wanting to stop. Wanda's mouth moved down to your neck, kissing with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

When she pulled back slightly, her eyes were filled with desire, and you heard her soft whisper in your ear. “Come to my place tonight?” Her words carried a mix of seduction and expectation.

You sighed, still feeling her lips on your skin. “I can’t. It’s the last week of exams, and I have a very demanding and strict professor. I could hate her for it, but she’s lucky she kisses so well,” you said, a playful smile gracing your lips.

Wanda let out a warm laugh, and the sound made your heart race. Her smile was genuine, enchanting, and you couldn’t help but return it. “You know I’m only tougher on you because I see your potential, don’t you, my sweet?” she said, looking at you with overwhelming passion, her gaze setting everything inside you ablaze.

“As for exams, I could give you a private lesson later.” The way she said it, with that seductive tone, made the tension between you spike even higher. Wanda seemed determined to make you cave, and you knew the game was only just beginning.

Her mouth found your neck again, and this time the sensation was even more intense. Gentle kisses, but with a silent urgency. You faltered, feeling your body surrender to the heat and desire.

“Trying to corrupt me, Professor Maximoff?” you murmured, your voice faltering as the pressure in your chest grew. But in that moment, there was no resistance left.

Wanda paused for a moment, looking at you with a mischievous smile on her lips. “If I’m corrupting you, you’re going to love every second of it,” she whispered before claiming your lips again in a kiss that burned like fire.

You met in secret corners whenever you could, as if the universe conspired to bring your bodies together in moments that were never convenient but always felt essential.

The twins had grown used to your presence, in a way that made it seem like you’d always been part of their lives. Mornings at Wanda’s house were filled with lively voices, laughter, and the sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway. The routine was comfortable, and your inclusion in it had been so organic that even Wanda hadn’t realized how essential you had become.

“Is Y/n coming over today?” Tommy asked casually, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth as he flipped through a comic book. His tone was nonchalant, but there was a clear note of expectation in his question.

Wanda, attempting to maintain her composure while buttering toast, raised an eyebrow. “Maybe,” she replied, trying to sound indifferent, but the small smile threatening to surface betrayed her.

“I hope so!” Billy exclaimed, pushing his chair back with enthusiasm. “She always plays video games with me, and honestly, she’s way better than you, Mom.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide the amused sparkle in them. “That’s because I let you win,” she retorted with mock indignation.

“Sure,” Tommy drawled, stretching the word with teenage sarcasm. He laughed and added, as though it were a fact, “Besides, she makes better pancakes than you too.”

“Better pancakes?!” Wanda stopped what she was doing, looking at him with a theatrically offended expression. “I’m your mother, you know? I could very well turn your pancakes into broccoli.”

Billy and Tommy exchanged knowing looks and laughed, clearly unimpressed by the threat. “You’d never do that, Mom,” Tommy said confidently. “And you like Y/n as much as we do.”

Wanda’s laugh was soft but filled with affection. She knew the boys were right, and seeing the bond they had formed with you warmed her heart in a way she hadn’t expected. Your presence brought something to the house she hadn’t realized was missing: a lightness, an almost childlike joy she hadn’t felt in years.

When you arrived that afternoon, the door opened before you could even knock, with Tommy shouting down the hallway, “She’s here! Mom, Y/n’s here!”

Billy appeared right behind him, holding two video game controllers. “Quick, Y/n, you’re my partner today. Mom’s terrible at this game.”

You laughed, slipping off your shoes at the entrance before being practically dragged to the living room. Wanda watched from the kitchen doorway, a small but genuine smile on her lips. You glanced at her, exchanging a look that spoke volumes without saying a word.

The twins didn’t just accept your presence—they embraced it as essential. For Wanda, seeing how you fit into their lives was both frightening and comforting. Because deep down, she knew you weren’t just a visitor—you were already a cornerstone of the family she hadn’t realized she was rebuilding.

The kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of spices and something baking in the oven. Wanda stood with her back to you, her auburn hair neatly draped over her shoulders as she stirred something in a pan. The sight was captivating—her figure bathed in the warm kitchen light, an apron loosely tied around her waist, her movements precise yet carrying that natural touch of chaos that seemed uniquely hers.

You approached from behind, making no sound, until you were close enough to feel the warmth of her body mingling with the heat of the stove. “What’s for dinner, Mommy?” You mimicked the casual tone that Tommy and Billy often used, but your voice carried an undertone that shifted the meaning entirely. The playful twist of that last word made Wanda’s fingers pause for a brief moment as she stirred the pan.

She partially turned toward you, raising an eyebrow as a slow smile spread across her lips. Her gaze lingered on you, trailing over every detail with a mix of amusement and something far deeper. “Careful with that tone, my sweet,” she replied, her voice soft yet laced with an edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence with every line of your expression. “What? I was just asking, Mommy,” you repeated, your mischievous smile challenging any hint of seriousness.

Wanda chuckled softly, shaking her head as she returned her attention to the pan. But you noticed the slight tremor in her shoulders, like she was suppressing either a laugh or something far more intense. “Be a good girl and grab the salt for me,” she said, her tone light, but the glance she cast over her shoulder held a spark that made you pause for a heartbeat.

You complied, but not before letting your hands graze over the fabric of her apron in a slow, deliberate touch, pretending it was an innocent move to reach the cupboard. “Here you go, Mommy,” you handed her the salt with a playful grin, your voice carrying a warmth that neither of you could pretend to ignore.

Wanda took the salt, but instead of turning back to the stove, she faced you fully. Her eyes locked onto yours, and the intensity of her gaze made your pulse quicken. She laughed softly, tilting her head slightly as if studying you. “Are you sure you want to play this game with me, darling?” she whispered, her voice dripping with both amusement and warning, the challenge unmistakable.

You leaned in just a little closer, your smile sweet but laced with deliberate provocation. “I never start something I’m not willing to finish.”

Without a word, Wanda reached for you, her hands sliding around your waist with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through your entire body. “Then you’d better be ready for what comes next,” she murmured, her lips ghosting over yours.

The kiss that followed was anything but controlled. Your hands tangled in her auburn hair, pulling her closer with a hunger you couldn’t disguise. Wanda responded with a low, needy sound that reverberated through you, making your heart pound harder. Her lips moved against yours in a way that demanded everything—every breath, every thought, every piece of you.

Her hands gripped your waist, firm and commanding, as though marking her claim. The contrast between the softness of her touch and the desperate way she held you was intoxicating. Each kiss was a battle—tongues teasing, lips colliding with fervor, both of you pushing and pulling, testing limits and breaking down any pretense of restraint.

Your lungs burned from the lack of air, but neither of you cared. The desire between you was raw, unrelenting, a force neither of you could tame. Wanda pushed you gently against the counter, her body pressed tightly against yours, every curve and heartbeat aligned as if the universe itself demanded it.

“Wanda…” you tried to murmur, your voice breathless, but she deepened the kiss, nibbling on your bottom lip before whispering against your mouth.

“Don’t ask me to stop,” she said, her voice rough, husky, and laced with an almost primal urgency.

Your response was immediate—your fingers tightening in her hair, pulling just hard enough to draw a ragged sound from her lips. That sound, desperate and needy, made your entire body ignite. The control she usually exuded was slipping through her fingers, and knowing you were the cause of her unraveling was exhilarating.

“Wanda…” you tried again, your voice barely a whisper, breathless. “The dinner… it’s going to burn.”

“Let it burn,” she replied, a playful yet heated grin tugging at her lips. But then, as if a thought struck her, she pulled back slightly, her eyes still locked on yours, filled with unspoken promises and desires she wasn’t ready to let go of just yet.

“This is about patience, little one,” she teased, adjusting her tousled hair as she turned her attention back to the stove. The triumphant smirk on her face told you she knew exactly what she was doing to you. But you knew just as well—this wasn’t over. Not between the two of you.

As you watched her from behind, stirring the pan as though nothing had happened, you realized with a startling clarity that you were hopelessly, utterly in love. Every gesture, every glance, every playful laugh of hers seemed to take root in your very soul, grounding you in a way nothing else could. Wanda had become your gravity, the very center of your universe.

“Later,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, but the weight of her words settled between you like a promise. She glanced over her shoulder with a playful glint in her eyes. “After the boys are in bed. I’ll be waiting for you.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. With Wanda, words were never enough to capture the depth of what you felt.

The moment was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Billy, who leaned casually against the doorway, his expression caught between suspicion and amusement. “You guys sure you don’t need any help with… whatever that was?” His voice held a note of teenage skepticism, his sharp gaze flitting between you and Wanda.

Without missing a beat, Wanda smoothed her hair with a quick gesture and offered a smile that was almost too convincing. “No, sweetheart, everything’s under control,” she said, her voice light and motherly, though you could hear the underlying mischief she worked so hard to mask.

Billy shrugged, his suspicion still lingering as he made his way back to the living room. But not before casting one last wary glance in your direction.

Once he was out of sight, you leaned in closer to Wanda, unable to contain your laughter. “That was close,” you whispered, your amusement clear. But the sly grin she shot your way as she stirred the pot told you that, for Wanda, the thrill of almost getting caught only made things more fun.

The kitchen was bathed in a soft, golden light, the scent of dinner filling the air. From the living room, you could hear the faint sound of Billy and Tommy talking, the clink of dishes still scattered across the table from the meal. It was a peaceful domestic scene, but the weight of something unspoken hung between you all.

Billy was the first to break the silence. His head bowed, fingers toying with a throw pillow on his lap, he finally spoke. “I know it’s better this way, you know? The divorce… it was for the best. But it’s still hard to accept.”

Tommy, sitting beside him with his arms crossed, glanced at you with an expression that seemed to seek answers. “It’s weird. We knew they weren’t happy for a long time. But now that it’s over… it feels more real. More empty.”

You took a deep breath, leaning forward to make sure your voice stayed calm and reassuring. “I know it’s not easy, boys,” you began, your gaze soft and steady. “It’s normal to feel this way. You lost something that was part of your life for so long. But sometimes… letting go is the only way to make room for something better.”

Billy looked up at you, his brown eyes reflecting a vulnerability he usually kept hidden. "Do you think it was the best thing for Mom?"

You smiled gently, thinking about how radiant Wanda had seemed lately, despite everything. She was lighter, more present, and her eyes sparkled in a way that felt almost magical. "I think your mom is finding her path," you replied. "And I think she's happier now. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss what was, but... sometimes doing something for herself is the best thing she can do for you, too."

Tommy scoffed, but he didn’t seem annoyed. "She’s been smiling more. Even singing while she cooks. That never used to happen."

Billy nodded, and a small smile began to appear on his face. "She does seem less tired. Like, stronger somehow."

"That’s because she has you," you said, looking at both of them. "You’re what keeps her strong, always have been. But also... she’s letting herself be happy again, and that’s important."

Tommy narrowed his eyes at you, analyzing your every word. "And you have something to do with that, don’t you? We notice. You make her smile like that—like, goofy."

You tried not to laugh, but his comment caught you off guard. "I just want her to be happy, just like you do."

Billy tilted his head thoughtfully, a small smile forming on his lips. "I think that’s what matters then. If she’s happy, and you make her happy... I think we can get used to that."

You froze for a moment, Billy’s words echoing in your mind. He’d said it so naturally, almost casually, but there was something in his tone, something in the way he looked at you, that made your heart race. Had he figured it out? Were you and Wanda being too obvious?

"I... I just want the best for her," you responded, your voice slightly lower as you tried to maintain your composure. Your smile was calm, but inside, tension built.

Billy didn’t seem entirely convinced. He shrugged, but the small smile on his lips betrayed that he knew more than he was letting on. "We know," he said, but the glance he exchanged with Tommy said otherwise. Tommy raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, simply heading toward the kitchen as if the exchange had been insignificant.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm as the boys disappeared into the other room. It was impossible not to wonder: how much did they know? Or worse, how much could others notice? You and Wanda had been careful, but the glances, the discreet touches, and the stolen moments might be starting to spill beyond the four walls you believed to be safe.

When you entered the kitchen, Wanda was plating small portions of dessert. Her hair was still tousled, and the smile she gave you was enough to calm the turmoil in your mind—if only for a brief moment.

"Everything okay?" she asked, noticing something in your expression.

"Yeah, of course," you replied, picking up a plate and trying to appear casual. But as the boys began devouring their desserts, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the façade was starting to crack.

Had Billy noticed? And if he had, how long would it be before others did too?

Before you could dwell on it, Wanda’s voice cut through your thoughts. "Dessert’s ready! Hope you still have room."

The twins quickly got up, the heavy conversation seeming to dissolve with the promise of something sweet. As they headed toward the kitchen, you lingered on the couch for a moment, feeling a warm comfort in your chest. They were still adjusting, but deep down, you knew they were beginning to accept, little by little, this new chapter in their lives—and in yours, too.

The living room was lit only by the soft glow of a lamp, creating an intimate atmosphere as rain began to lightly tap against the windows. You were on the couch with Wanda, a glass of wine in hand, feeling the warmth of the alcohol begin to rise, heating more than just your body. She was beside you, her hair still messy from the day, her eyes gleaming in a way you knew wasn’t just from the wine.

Your conversation flowed easily, as it always did, but there was something in the air—something more intense. Every word seemed to carry an added weight, a current of energy connecting you invisibly.

"You know," Wanda began, looking at her glass, though the soft smile on her lips was impossible to ignore. "The boys adore you. They’re always asking about you. I think, if they could, they’d keep you here forever."

"Yeah?" you replied, trying to sound casual, though her tone made your heart race. "And what about you? Would you keep me here forever, too?"

Wanda laughed, a soft, enchanting sound that made you smile automatically. "You already know the answer to that," she murmured, finally lifting her eyes to meet yours.

The intensity in her gaze made you forget the world for a moment. Or maybe it was the wine, but you knew you had to say what had been stuck in your throat for so long. Placing your glass on the coffee table, you turned fully to her, feeling your face heat up.

"Wanda..." you began, your voice a little lower but filled with sincerity. She tilted her head, curious, and that small, intimate gesture nearly disarmed you. "I... I’m completely in love with you. I can’t stop thinking about you, and every time I’m here, it feels like the whole world makes sense."

Her eyes sparkled, and she placed her glass next to yours. Without saying anything, she leaned in, one of her hands finding its way to your face, her warm fingers gently stroking your skin.

"You know I feel the same way, don’t you?" she said, her voice low, almost a whisper, as her face was so close you could smell the sweet scent of the wine she’d been drinking.

"But I needed to say it," you murmured, your voice almost failing as she leaned even closer. "I needed you to know how much you mean to me... And that you’d keep me here forever. You’re so possessive, aren’t you?" you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Wanda narrowed her eyes, a dangerous smile forming on her lips. "Possessive?" she repeated, her voice soft but laced with a tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Don’t look at me like that. You know you are," you continued, the playful smile growing. "I see the way you look at me, like I’m something that only belongs to you."

She tilted her head, her fingers gliding across your cheek with a tenderness that completely contrasted the intensity in her eyes. "And aren’t you?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but Wanda was quicker. She grasped your chin firmly, tilting your head slightly back, forcing you to hold her gaze. "If you think you can play games with me, my cheeky girl, you’re very mistaken."

"Oh, really?" you replied, trying to keep the defiant tone, but your voice faltered under her sharp gaze.

"Yes," she murmured, leaning in until your lips almost touched. "Because I don’t just want you forever... I’ll keep you forever. And no matter how much you tease, in the end, you always come back to me. Isn’t that right?"

You tried to respond, but the words disappeared as her fingers slid into your hair, tugging slightly as she brushed her lips against yours, never fully kissing them.

"See?" she continued, her voice a husky whisper. "Even now, you can’t resist. You’re trembling for me. That’s how I like you: vulnerable and completely mine."

The defiant smile you tried to maintain was quickly crumbling, but still, you whispered, "Who said I’m trembling for you?"

Wanda let out a low, provocative laugh. "Oh, darling," she murmured, her fingers still in your hair as she finally pressed her lips to yours, the kiss intense and possessive, as if she were proving a point.

When you pulled apart, both of you were breathless, and she smiled triumphantly. "Still want to play hard to get, or shall we show the world the permanent marks I’ve left on you?"

You looked theatrically at your own body, feigning innocence. "Permanent marks? I don’t see any."

Your heart pounded fiercely, and you knew there was no denying it. Not after this. Not with Wanda looking at you as if you were the center of her universe.

The kiss had turned into something far more intense. Wanda’s lips moved against yours with a hunger that seemed to grow with every second, as if the entire world could vanish, and the two of you would still be there, utterly consumed by each other.

Your hands found their way back into her red hair, tangling your fingers through the silky strands, pulling just enough to elicit a low, needy sound from Wanda��s throat. That sound only fueled the fire already burning inside you. Her hands gripped your waist, firm and possessive, her touch sending a shiver through your skin, as if she was carving her claim into you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. A thin strand of saliva still connected your lips, glistening under the soft light of the room. Wanda’s eyes — green and deep — were blown wide with desire and something more profound, a look so intense it sent chills down your spine.

She leaned in, her mouth brushing against your ear, and in a voice husky and loaded with intent, she whispered through clenched teeth:

"Bedroom. Now."

Your heart raced at her command, sweeter and more irresistible than any promise. Without a second thought, you stood up, your hand entwined with hers as you led her down the dark hallway, the hurried sound of footsteps echoing on the wooden floor.

The world outside seemed to vanish. Only the anticipation and the heat between you remained real.

Wanda pushed you against the bedroom door before you could even fully reach it. The soft thud reverberated through the room, and the cold wood against your back contrasted sharply with the feverish warmth radiating from her. Your breathing was uneven, but so was hers. Wanda’s gaze burned — predatory, filled with promises — as if nothing could stop her now that she had decided you were hers.

"You’re such a naughty little girl…" Her voice, low and laced with her accent, slid over you like velvet. "Always thinking you can get away with it, don’t you?"

"I didn’t…" you started, trying to regain some control of the situation, but Wanda was already on you, pressing a finger to your lips to silence you.

"Shh…" she whispered, her eyes blazing with intensity. "I see you. All this bravado… this courage to challenge me." She smiled slowly, dangerously. "But I’m going to teach you something, dorogaya. I’m the one in charge here."

Before you could respond, Wanda captured your mouth again, the kiss now fierce, almost brutal. Her teeth grazed your bottom lip, biting softly, and you gasped against her. Your hands reached out, seeking to reclaim some control, sliding to her shoulders, but Wanda only chuckled against your lips.

"Oh… trying to fight back? How cute." She tugged on your hair a little harder, tilting your head back to expose your neck. Her lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses along your skin. "But that won’t work. You know that, don’t you?"

"Maybe I like to fight," you whispered, though your voice was already trembling, nearly pleading.

Wanda raised her head, locking eyes with you, a gleam of dark amusement and challenge in her expression. "Oh. Do you, now? Let’s see how long you can last, little warrior."

With a swift movement, Wanda grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, holding your wrists with a controlled yet firm grip. The weight of the gesture sent your pulse racing, and you struggled, but it was futile. She had total control.

"You have no idea what you’ve awakened, Y/n," Wanda murmured, her voice deep and dripping with desire. "I’ve waited for this. Waited for you for so long. And now that I have you… there’s no turning back."

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing your ear again. "You will surrender, my clever little slut. You’ll beg. I want to hear you say… that you belong to me."

Your entire body trembled, a mix of nervous anticipation and pure, unrelenting need. "I…"

"I love how, the more you try to resist, the more your body betrays you," Wanda said with a soft laugh, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Look at you, already shaking for me. Your mouth says one thing… but your body? It’s already answering me."

She released one of your hands, only to let her palm slide slowly down your body, exploring every curve. Her fingers stopped at your waist, squeezing possessively, making you gasp once again.

"Every sound you make, every shiver… it’s mine," Wanda whispered. "You’re my precious little doll. My masterpiece. And I’m going to shape you exactly how I want."

You tried to hold on to your defiant stance, but as Wanda’s hand traveled further down, stopping at your thigh and creeping upward, a needy moan escaped your lips.

"Ah, there it is…" Wanda smiled, satisfied. "That’s the truth, isn’t it? You like this. You want to be guided. To be dominated."

She brought her mouth back to yours, kissing you slower this time, but with an intensity that conveyed everything she wanted without needing words.

"Now," Wanda said, her eyes gleaming with a subtle red glow, her tone firm and irresistible. "Be a good girl and lie down on the bed."

Your body obeyed before your mind could protest. Something in her tone, in the natural authority Wanda exuded, made any remaining resistance evaporate.

As you settled on the bed, Wanda stood at the edge, watching you as if she were about to devour you. Slowly, she removed her coat, letting it fall to the floor, revealing her bare shoulders and the plunging neckline of her dress. Then, she crawled onto the bed, moving toward you with predatory grace.

"Do you want me to be gentle?" she asked, her voice sweet but laced with malice. "Or would you rather find out what happens when you try to challenge the only person who can make you truly scream?"

Before you could answer, Wanda captured your lips again, and the world around you vanished.

Her lips claimed yours with renewed intensity, each kiss a reminder that you were entirely at her mercy. When you instinctively tried to move, to regain some semblance of control, Wanda grabbed your wrists again, pinning them to the bed with both hands this time.

"You said you like to fight," she murmured, her dangerous whisper brushing against your mouth, "but let’s be honest… you like losing even more."

Your body arched against her in response, every nerve on high alert. You wanted to deny it, to say you still had control, but the truth was undeniable: Wanda had already won.

She traced her hands slowly down your arms to your shoulders, her fingers leaving a burning path of fire wherever they touched. "Every time you try to resist, it only makes me want to break you more," Wanda whispered, her gaze never wavering from yours. "You know that, don't you? That I will get what I want."

"You're so arrogant," you said, trying to keep your voice steady and teasing, but it came out softer than you'd intended.

Her dangerous smile deepened. "And you're so stubborn… But look at you. Already panting. Already begging with your body, even if your mouth refuses to admit it."

Her hands slid down to your waist again, pulling you closer with a possessive grip that made your skin tingle. "Do you know what I love most about you, Y/n? That rebellious streak of yours. That little brat who thinks she can challenge me. But do you know what I love even more?"

She leaned in until her lips were a mere breath away from your ear. "The moment you break."

Your heart raced, and you bit your lip to hold back the moan threatening to escape. But Wanda noticed. Of course she did.

"Oh… you're such a clever little slut, aren't you?" she teased, her fingers drifting dangerously close to the hem of your clothes. "But that won't last, my dear. I'll make you beg. Stuff you so full you’ll turn into my dumb little whore. And I’ll love every second of it."

You tried to squirm away, to move your arms and legs in resistance. But Wanda only laughed, the sound reverberating against your skin. "No. You're going to stay exactly where I want you. Do you know why?"

She lifted her head just enough to look directly into your eyes. The intensity of her gaze burned through you, making your whole body tremble.

"Because you’re mine," Wanda declared, her voice firm, unquestionable. "My little doll. My toy. My masterpiece."

She grasped your chin, pulling your face toward hers, capturing your lips in a kiss that left no room for resistance. Wanda wasn’t asking. She was taking.

When she finally pulled back, a satisfied smirk played on her lips. "Ah, look at you… so beautiful when you’re vulnerable." Her thumb ran over your bottom lip, pressing lightly. "So ready to be molded."

She shifted just enough to straddle you, pinning your legs beneath her weight. "Now, Y/n… tell me. Who’s in charge here?"

You tried to hold on to the last shred of control you thought you had. But Wanda’s gaze burned into you, melting any defenses you still clung to.

She tilted her head slightly, her smirk darkening. "Say it," she commanded, her voice low, dangerous. "Or I’ll make you say it."

"You…" Your voice faltered, trembling. Your pride crumbled beneath her dominance. "You’re in charge."

Wanda’s smile widened, her eyes flashing red for a brief moment. "Good girl." Her fingers traced your cheek as if admiring a work of art. "Now, be a good girl and spread your legs for me."

Your body obeyed before your mind could process the command. Wanda’s hands trailed down your body, her fingers exploring your skin with a precision that was almost torturous.

"I’m going to make sure you remember this," she whispered. "I’m going to mark you in a way no one else ever can erase. Because you belong to me, and I belong to you. Now and always."

When her touch finally reached where you needed her most, your whole body ignited, and any lingering resistance was consumed by the burning desire only Wanda could provoke.

"Good girl," Wanda whispered again, her lips brushing your ear as her fingers traced slow, teasing circles on your aching core.

The atmosphere between you shifted the moment you shot her that defiant look. Something thick and electric brewed in the air, like a storm about to crash down on you.

"Always so full of attitude, aren’t you?" Wanda said, crossing her arms as she tilted her head slightly, her predatory gaze locked on you. "Should I remind you of your place, little doll?"

You couldn’t help the mischievous grin that tugged at your lips. "You can try…"

Oh, that was the breaking point. The familiar crimson glow flickered around Wanda’s eyes, and in an instant, she pounced. Before you could react, you were pressed into the bed, her hands firm on your shoulders.

"Ah… my little rebel," Wanda murmured, her voice low and dripping with desire and control. "Do you really think you can play with me and walk away unscathed?"

The blush on your face deepened as you tried to keep up your rebellious front, but the way her hands gripped you, the sheer authority radiating from her, made your legs feel weak.

"You said you like to fight," she continued, her fingers trailing slowly over your face, "but I think what you like even more is being reminded of your place."

Your breath hitched. You knew you should resist, keep teasing her, but the weight of Wanda’s dominance over you was overwhelming. Your thoughts began to blur, dissolving into pure need.

"You should be a good little pet for me," Wanda whispered, her fingers sliding torturously slow over your body. "Submissive. Sweet. So obedient."

The sound of her voice — husky, commanding, dripping with promises — made your heart race. You opened your mouth to respond, but all that escaped was a trembling whimper.

"Oh… Please, please," you whimpered, barely recognizing your own voice, soft and yielding. "Show me my place. I’ll be so good for you, mommy…"

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, a deep instinct finally breaking free from within you.

Wanda chuckled, a low, satisfied sound. "Ah, there she is," she murmured, her eyes gleaming with delight. "My good little girl, ready to be taught."

With a firm motion, Wanda pulled you up and positioned you across her lap, sitting on the edge of the bed. She settled you over her thighs effortlessly, as if she’d already imagined this moment a thousand times before.

"Now," Wanda said, her hand gliding slowly down your back to your waist, "let’s get rid of these, shall we?"

With a decisive tug, she removed your pants, leaving your bare skin exposed to the cool air of the room. The contrast between her warmth and the room’s chill made you shiver slightly against her lap.

"Always so defiant," Wanda murmured, running her hand lightly over your skin, tracing the curve of your ass. "But I’ll mold you. I’ll break you down and build you back up, exactly the way I want."

Her hand came down with a sharp slap, the sting reverberating through your body. You gasped, your hips instinctively pressing back toward her touch.

"That’s right," Wanda said softly, her voice thick with approval. "Good girl. Let mommy take care of you."

She ran her hand gently over your exposed skin, a touch that was both comforting and threatening. “You know why I’m doing this, don’t you?” You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps.

“Because you need to be reminded…” Wanda gave your buttock a light slap, nothing more than a teasing touch. “Of your place.” She took the opportunity to slide her fingers through your wet folds, making you push against her. “Hmmm, eager…”

The first slap came for real. Not too hard, but firm enough to make your skin sting slightly. You let out a moan, surprised by the intensity.

“This is just the beginning,” Wanda said, her hand gently caressing the spot where she had hit. “Tell me, baby doll. How many do you deserve?”

“I… don’t… know,” you murmured, your voice shaking with anticipation.

“Oh, then I’ll decide,” Wanda stated, with a satisfied smile. “I like this better.”

Another slap. Then another. With each slap, the heat on your skin grew, and with it, the need growing inside you.

“You’re becoming so beautiful for me,” Wanda praised, her voice soft and mesmerizing. “Look how your skin is blushing. That’s how you should be—marked by me, remembering who you belong to.”

You writhed on her lap, each slap followed by a caress that made your body beg for more.

“Please…” you whispered, barely audible.

“Please what?” Wanda asked, her tone teasing, when she pronounces the t with rigidity. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to… be your good little girl.”

Wanda laughed again, pleased. “Oh, you’re learning fast. But we still have a long way to go, baby doll.”

She slapped again, harder this time, eliciting a loud moan from you. Her hand slowly slid down to your thighs, parting them slightly. “Now,” Wanda murmured, leaning down until her lips brushed your ear, “show me how good you can be for me.” Wanda caressed your buttocks gently, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the already flushed skin, while you breathed heavily, trying to control the tremors that ran through your body.

She seemed to absorb your every reaction—every writhe, every sigh, every muffled moan. Her voice was low and gravelly, but her control was absolute.

“Beg,” Wanda said, her hand gliding lazily over your skin. “I want to hear you say you need this.” You swallowed hard, your heart beating so fast you could feel the blood pounding in your ears.

“Wanda, please—” A firm slap cut through the air before you could finish your sentence, tearing a desperate moan from your lips.

“No,” she corrected, her voice thick with authority. “Try again. And use that title I love so much. Come on, baby doll.” Your face burned with embarrassment and excitement. The words caught in your throat, but you knew she wouldn’t give in until she heard them.

“Please… Mommy,” you whispered, barely recognizing your own voice. “I need… I need you to teach me. I need to be your good girl.”

A satisfied smile played across Wanda’s lips. “Oh, that’s better.” She ran her fingers along your back, slowly rising to the base of your neck. “But you still sound shy. I want to hear you really beg.”

Another slap. Harder this time. Your skin was hot and sensitive, and the shock of the impact tore a sob of pleasure from your throat.

“Please, Mommy,” you moaned, your voice finally breaking under the weight of need. “Show me my place. Teach me. I want to be everything you want. Please do this to me.”

Wanda laughed softly, the sound rumbling like a caress along your spine. She loved watching you slowly break under the weight of your own submission, your resistance dissolving into pure surrender.

“Good little girl,” she murmured, her words a balm and a promise. “Now. Look how beautiful you are when you stop fighting and just accept who you are to me.”

Her hands moved again, one gripping your waist tightly while the other traced the contours of your buttocks, teasing the sensitive skin.

"Will you be my good girl?" Wanda asked, her voice low but relentless.

"Yes," you answered immediately, without thinking. "Yes, Mommy. Please. I'm yours."

"Mmm…" She seemed to savor your words, as if each syllable was a confirmation of her ownership over you. "Mine. Only mine. I'm going to sculpt you exactly how I want. Every sound you make, every mark on your skin… all of it belongs to me now."

Another slap, slower, almost gentle, but still firm enough to send a shiver through your body.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Wanda teased, her hand moving down to your thighs, parting them slowly. "You're so wet for me. So eager to please."

You moaned in response, unable to form coherent words.

"I want to hear it," she insisted, her voice an irresistible command.

"Tell me you're my good little girl."

"I am," you gasped, your entire body shaking with need. "I'm your good little girl, Mommy. Please, please… Touch me. Teach me. Do whatever you want with me."

Wanda ran her fingers over your warm skin, the tips touching where you wanted them most, but not giving you the relief your body begged for.

"You're so desperate," she murmured, her lips brushing your ear as her voice dropped to a seductive whisper. "Desperate to be guided. Desperate to be possessed."

You nodded frantically, your face buried against her thighs. "Yes, please… I need you."

Wanda laughed again, satisfied. "Oh, I know you do, baby doll. And I'll give you everything you want. But only when I decide you deserve it."

Her promise was as much torture as it was a gift, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that you were exactly where you were supposed to be: at her feet, vulnerable and surrendered.

“Thank you for this.” Wanda demands, thrusting her fingers inside you, making you exasperated. In that moment, you really want to thank her like never before.

“Fuck. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Mommy. I’m so grateful— OH FUCK,” you groan in pleasure, and hear Wanda hum in approval.

“There’s my girl,” she says, and thrusts deeper inside you.

You moan, drawn out and needy for the woman who expresses pain on her face. Wanda feels a pressure between her legs that she knows exactly what it is and how to stop.

The woman pulls out of you, making you protest. “Mommy prepared something special today. For you. For us.”

The feeling of being submissive to Wanda was too intense to be understood in words. When she pulled away for a moment, you felt the emptiness left by the heat of her body, a loss that made your chest tighten immediately.But when you tried to lift your face to see her, everything around you dissolved into darkness.

It was as if her own magic had wrapped your eyes in an invisible blindfold—there was nothing you could see except the pulsing darkness, as if it were a reminder of her presence, even though she wasn’t touching you.

Your heart raced. The absence of vision made every other sense amplify. The sound of Wanda’s soft footsteps, the brush of her breath against your skin, even her subtle scent—something that mingled woodsmoke and wildflowers—felt so much more intense.

When you tried to move, you found you couldn’t. Your wrists and ankles were bound by something invisible, as if magical roots had wrapped themselves around your limbs, keeping you immobile, completely vulnerable and at her mercy. The shiver that ran down your spine was so strong that you shivered.

“What… did you do… to me?” you managed to mutter, but even forming the words felt like too much. Your mouth was dry, your voice a broken whisper.

Across the room, Wanda laughed softly—that soft, dangerous sound that made your skin crawl and your stomach churn with anticipation.

“I put you exactly where you were supposed to be,” she replied, her voice a whisper filled with power. “Blinded. Trapped. Completely mine.”

Your breathing came faster, almost panting. Her every word seemed to carry weight and intent, as if she were branding you deeply, from the inside out. You tried to move again, but each attempt was futile—you were perfectly trapped, vulnerable in a way you had never been before.

Wanda moved closer, and you felt her fingertips glide across your skin. It was a light touch, almost tender, but it left a trail of heat in its wake. She started on your face, tracing the contours of your jaw, until she reached your neck.

“You’re not scared,” Wanda murmured, a hint of surprise in her voice, but there was a hidden satisfaction there. “You should be shaking. But you’re not, are you?”

You shook your head slowly, your mouth half open as you tried to breathe. “No… I’m not.”

“And why?” Wanda asked, her fingertips now moving to your shoulder, then down your exposed back.

“Because…” You swallowed hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts. But there was only one truth. “Because I trust you.”

The words hung in the air like a sacred confession. Wanda was silent for a moment, before she laughed softly again.

“Good girl,” she murmured. “But don’t think that will save you, because trust doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.”

You felt the tips of her nails press lightly into your skin, just enough to leave a mark.

“It means you’ve given yourself away. And now…” Wanda paused for a moment, her fingers slowly running down your waist, down to where your buttocks were still exposed. “Now you’re going to feel exactly what it means to be mine.”

Your entire body trembled beneath her touch, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips.

She leaned in again, and the touch of her lips against your ear made you shiver. “You begged me to show you your place,” Wanda continued, her voice a low purr. “Now, baby doll… I’m going to teach you. And you’re going to appreciate every second of it.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a breathless moan as you felt her hands explore your body again, this time without any restraint or hesitation. Wanda was in absolute control, and you knew you were about to be pushed to a limit you didn't even know existed.

And you wanted this.

You needed this.

You needed her.

While the woman was away, you could hear the sound of latex sliding over her skin. The strap-on Wanda was wearing wasn't as big as she wanted—but she was thinking about you. It must be pleasurable for both you and her. She wants to break you in little by little, wants to see how far you can take her cock.

Wanda's warm hand and black-stained fingers wrap around the base of the strap-on, connecting it directly to her clit. She lets out a needy sigh, walking back to the bed.

You feel the woman's knees sink into the mattress beside you, each movement calculated, a silent dance that makes the air around you feel thick and charged. The weight of anticipation was piling on your shoulders, making your heart hammer in your chest. Not knowing what would happen next should have been terrifying… but it wasn’t.

It was intoxicating. The uncertainty left you on fire, the unknown awakening something you hadn’t known existed. The lack of control over your own body, over your desires, was something you had never imagined you could desire until now—and yet, here you were, yearning for more.

Then Wanda’s nose lightly brushed the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply of your essence. The warm air that escaped her lips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re delicious,” she murmured, almost like a secret. The tone of her voice, low and gravelly, seemed to slide through you like an electric current. “So soft…” Her mouth found your cheek in a slow, wet kiss that left a trail of heat and a shiver of anticipation. It wasn’t just a touch—it was a declaration. A claim.

“Speak any word to me, pretty girl,” Wanda whispered against your skin. It was a command, but there was a dark sweetness in her tone, as if she were guiding you, encouraging you to surrender. Your throat was dry, and when you finally found your voice, it came out hoarse, as if it had been scratched by the intensity of the moment.

“Crimson,” you whispered, almost breathless. The word came naturally, as if it were the only possible choice. Crimson, because everything around you seemed to be wrapped in red—the deep tone of Wanda’s magic, the heat that spread through you, the desire that burned in your veins.

The scent of sandalwood hung in the air, a constant reminder of her presence, of the invisible force that held you captive. Crimson, because you were in a spiral where your deepest reverie had a name and a color.

Wanda was silent for a moment, letting the word hang between you. Then, a slow smile spread across her lips, and you could feel her chest vibrate slightly as she murmured,

"Mmmm… poetic."

She pressed her lips against your jaw, sliding her mouth to the corner of your lips, never completing the kiss, just teasing. “When you say that word, everything stops. Do you understand, my girl?”

You nodded, breathless, but Wanda wasn’t satisfied with that.

“I need to hear you,” she said firmly, her fingertips tracing a slow, deliberate path down your hip. “Tell me you understand. Tell me you’ll use it if you need to.”

“I understand, Mommy,” you replied, your voice almost a moan, full of anticipation.

“Good girl,” Wanda purred, satisfied.

You both moaned as Wanda rubbed the tip of the strap-on against your hot, needy clit. “It’s going to be glorious, baby. And I’m going to feel everything… every inch of you.” The sound she makes is like a small growl—pressing her cock to your entrance, making you gasp in surprise.

“Wanda… this is…” You can barely speak, not when she’s thrusting inside you—the slow, slow pace only makes you want more.

“This, my dear. This is magic.”

And when Wanda pushes it all inside you, you can see a pulsing vein in her neck. The woman lets out a shaky breath.

“Oh…” She exasperates. “It’s so warm in here, my dear. You’re holding Mommy so well…” She groans through her teeth, as if she’s trying hard to contain herself.

Wanda has always hated the word. Magic. Witch. Sorceress. Monster. Those labels carried centuries of fear and contempt, making her existence a constant curse. She’d spent so long hating this part of herself, trying to control what couldn’t be contained, trying to fit into molds that were never meant for her.

But now?

Now, with you beneath her—vulnerable, surrendered, completely at the mercy of her hands and her will—it all felt different. She wasn’t a freak. She wasn’t a walking curse. She wasn’t a monster.

She was divine.

Every touch her body absorbed as if Wanda were imprinting her essence on you. Every breath she took seemed to feed the magic within her, an unceasing current of power that pulsed in the air around her. The way you responded to her—moaning her name like a prayer, offering yourself without reservation—made Wanda feel that, for the first time, her magic wasn’t a weapon, but a gift.

Blessed.

That word went through her like a lightning bolt. Wanda felt blessed. Not by the magic itself, but by the way she was using it now—to claim you, to fill you until you leaked her juices inside you. Her mark was on you, invisible to the world, but burning beneath your skin. And it made all the hatred she had once carried disappear.

“How are you feeling, my little doll?” Her tone is reverent, almost as if you were precious enough to deserve to be Wanda’s obsession, but not enough to not be broken by her. Never for that matter. “What does it feel like to have Mommy’s cock in your pretty girl pussy?”

“Mommy, I—” Your voice cracked as you felt Wanda move inside you, hitting a spot that was previously unknown. “OH. Mommy! Do that again! Please, pretty please.” You heard yourself say in a ridiculously needy voice.

“I love it when my little girl begs. You look so pretty. Fuck!”Wanda moans, thrusting her hips further, almost fusing her skin with yours. “Open your mouth.”

And you do, of course you do. All your mind can think about is pleasing the woman above you—as if it were your life’s purpose. When Wanda sees you with your little mouth open, she can't resist slapping your cheek—naturally red, she grabs your chin and pulls it towards her, making you arch your back off the mattress.

She lets a thick string of her own saliva slip out of her mouth, making you receive it. "Swallow it."

And you do, nodding, like the good girl of Wanda that you are. "Thank you, mommy."

And that seems to be the end of something for the woman, who speeds up her thrusts, bringing a loud moan to your lips. "So polite. Mommy's little slut takes her cock like a pro, doesn't she? I'm going to cum so hard inside you. You want mommy to get you pregnant, huh? Want mommy to put her sperm in your little belly?" The movements were frantic and sloppy, Wanda was close.

“YES, YES, YES! Get me pregnant, Mommy! Fill your stupid bitch with your cum, Mommy!” You screamed with the intensity of what you felt, your voice interrupted by moans that seemed to come from a place so deep that not even you knew existed.

Your body arched involuntarily, every muscle tensed as Wanda explored every inch of you as if it were rightfully hers. Your eyes shed tears of pure pleasure, running silently down your hot cheeks. It wasn’t pain — it was surrender. It was the unbearable weight of vulnerability, of the raw need to be possessed by someone who knew exactly what to do with every inch of you.

“Mine…” She seemed to savor the word with devotion. And when Wanda began to massage your clit with her thumb, it was over. “Cum for Mommy. Smear my cock with your smart little slut juices, I want all of you.” You didn’t answer her with words. There was no room for coherent thoughts, only the raw, urgent need that took over every cell in your body. Instead, a loud moan escaped your lips—a hoarse sound, full of pleasure and submission.

Your legs trembled involuntarily around Wanda, as your body sought more contact, more proximity, more of her.

Your hips moved on their own, seeking the rhythm that Wanda dictated, as if your entire body had surrendered to the silent melody that only she played. Your fingers grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her hair tightly as your nails scratched the delicate skin. Wanda let out a low growl in response, a sound that made your belly tighten even more, desire pulsing in every exposed nerve.

Then, as if you could no longer bear the distance between you, you arched your back, bringing your bodies closer until there was no more space between you. With an urgent movement, you pressed your mouth to hers, muffling the moan that threatened to escape. It was an uncontrolled, desperate kiss, full of need and hunger. There was nothing soft or delicate about that moment. It was rough. Wild.

Wanda kissed you back with the same intensity, her teeth scraping against your lips as her firm hands slid down, holding your waist with possessive strength. You felt her fingers leave marks that would surely remain on your skin for days—a reminder that you belonged to her.

When you finally broke apart to breathe, Wanda looked at you as if she wanted to devour every part of you. Her eyes glowed with the red light of her magic, but there was something else there: obsession, adoration, and an insatiable desire.

Wanda smiled almost predatorily, her eyes half-closed as she traced every curve of your face, as if she were recording that moment in her memory.

“Ah, my little princess…” she murmured, her lips brushing your ear again. “I don’t intend to stop with you. I’ll never let you go.”

And with that, her hands moved again, and you knew you were about to be taken even deeper into that addictive spiral of pleasure and possession.

[...]

The prom night was filled with smiles and animated voices. You were surrounded by your friends, all laughing and toasting with cups of soda and glasses of faux champagne. It was the end of an era—years of studying finally behind you.

"And who would've thought we'd survive to this point?" Yelena joked, raising her glass in an exaggerated toast. "To those who said we wouldn't make it."

Kate raised hers too. "And especially to Y/N, who, besides being the nerd of the group, held our hands through the process."

"She didn’t just hold our hands; she carried us on her back," Darcy corrected, pulling you into a tight hug.

Bucky, always a bit more reserved, gave a soft smile. "Whatever you decide to do from now on, Y/N, it's going to be spectacular. You know that, right?"

You smiled at them, your heart warmed by their support. But even surrounded by your friends, your eyes searched for someone else. Across the room, near the drink table, Wanda stood casually leaning against it, a glass in her hand.

She looked calm, but you knew her well enough to read past that—her gaze was fixed on you, as if you were the only person in the room. Every detail of her expression was loaded with an intensity that made your skin tingle.

"Y/N?" Kate nudged your shoulder, pulling you out of your trance.

"Oh, sorry," you said, laughing, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Agatha appeared beside Wanda, observing the exchange with a smile only she could carry—mischievous and full of insinuations.

"You do realize you're giving it all away, don't you?" Agatha teased, casually picking up a glass of punch.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Wanda murmured, her eyes still locked on you. But her voice betrayed any attempt at denial; it was laden with emotion.

"Oh, please, dear." Agatha chuckled, swirling the glass theatrically. "You're practically shouting it for anyone who cares to notice. With that look? Even a blind person could tell you want to devour that girl."

Wanda rolled her eyes, a blush inevitably creeping up her cheeks, though she maintained her posture. "I'm just... observing."

"Sure, sure," Agatha retorted with a sly grin. "Observing from inches away, tracking her every move like a predator about to pounce. Is that 'just observing'? Because, to me, it looks like something else entirely..."

"Agatha," Wanda cut her off, a warning tone in her voice, though she couldn't completely hide the flicker of worry in her eyes.

"Fine, fine." Agatha raised her free hand in mock surrender, but the grin didn't fade. "You know me, I can't resist a good tease. But, on a different note, I saw what you sent me."

Wanda finally tore her gaze from you, turning to Agatha. Her tone grew more serious. "Did you manage to identify anything?"

Agatha took a sip of the punch, deliberately pausing before replying. "Not yet, but..." Her gaze shifted to you momentarily, studying with renewed interest. "The necklace belongs to her, doesn't it?" She tilted her head toward you.

"Yes." Wanda’s jaw tightened, her fingers gripping the wineglass. "How is that possible, Agatha? I've never seen that necklace before. Not in any of the lives I've shared with her. And that..." She paused, taking a deep breath. "That worries me."

Agatha narrowed her eyes, her expression turning serious for the first time. "You know what that means, don't you? If it's something even you don’t recognize, then it’s something... different. Perhaps something that doesn’t belong in your usual narrative."

"And that's exactly what scares me." Wanda's voice was low but firm, a dark determination threading her words. "The unknown can bring surprises. For ordinary people, maybe good ones. But for me? The unknown only brings risks. And I can't—won't—risk anything that involves her."

Agatha remained silent for a moment, studying Wanda carefully. Then she set her glass down on the nearby table and lightly touched Wanda's arm. "You'll figure it out. We will. But remember, Wanda: no matter how powerful you are, you can’t control everything. Not even when it comes to her."

"That’s not an option," Wanda replied, her eyes returning to you as if you were the only light in the darkness. "I need to protect her, Agatha. No matter what it takes."

"Be careful what you're willing to sacrifice," Agatha murmured, but her voice was drowned out by the laughter around you.

Wanda simply pressed her lips together, resuming her watchful gaze. The idea that something beyond her reach could affect you was intolerable. And if the necklace meant something greater, Wanda already knew: she would face whatever came. And she would win. Because losing you was not an option.

[...]

In a busy afternoon, boxes were scattered everywhere, and you barely had time to breathe as you tried to organize the chaos. Still, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Wanda, who was clearly far more anxious than you.

She was everywhere at once—snapping her fingers discreetly to make boxes move on their own, floating small objects to their proper places, all with an energy that seemed ready to burst.

"Wanda," you called, trying to suppress a laugh as you watched her rearrange the same bookshelf for the third time. "You need to relax."

"I am relaxed," she replied hastily, adjusting a picture frame to the exact center of the nightstand.

"Of course, you are," you said, crossing your arms and watching as a lamp floated to the other side of the room.

She paused for a moment, hands on her hips, biting her lower lip as she looked around. Her gaze was pure nervousness, but there was something else—a glimmer of happiness that warmed the room.

"I just... want everything to be perfect," she admitted, her eyes finally meeting yours.

You approached her, holding her hands and pulling her gently closer. "It’s perfect because it’s with you. It doesn’t matter where we are, Wanda. As long as it’s with you, it’ll be enough."

Wanda sighed, relaxing a little, but the smile on her face still carried a touch of anxiety. "I just... thinking about you being here. Sleeping beside me every night. Here, with the boys, being a real part of my life..."

"Our life," you corrected softly, and she smiled more confidently.

Billy appeared at the bedroom door, giving you a cheerful grin. "You’ll make pancakes with smiley faces tomorrow, right? Because, you know, Mom tries, but... it’s not the same."

Wanda feigned indignation, but the joy in her eyes was undeniable.

"I think I can manage that," you replied, laughing.

When Billy disappeared, Wanda looked at you with a small but deeply emotional smile. "They love you, you know that, right?"

You nodded, pulling her into a hug. "And I love them. And I love you."

She held you tightly, her anxiety gradually melting into something calmer, more stable. You could feel her heartbeat against yours, and for a moment, everything in the world felt exactly as it should be.

After hours of unpacking boxes, you collapsed onto the couch, exhausted but restless. Something was missing—something important.

"I can’t find my necklace," you murmured, breaking the silence.

Wanda, who was finishing putting away kitchen utensils, looked at you. The tone in your voice immediately caught her attention. "The necklace? The one with the sun pendant?"

You nodded, running a hand over your bare neck. "Yes. Have you seen it? I’ve searched all the boxes and bags, but it’s... gone."

Wanda froze for a moment before disappearing from the room. When she returned, she was holding the necklace, the pendant softly glowing under the light.

“My sorceress-hero. My ‘sorhero!,’” you exclaimed with relief, running to wrap her in a tight embrace. Her touch was comforting, and for a brief moment, the world seemed right again.

Wanda, however, held the object a little more firmly than usual. She felt the strange magic emanating from the pendant—a signature she didn’t recognize, yet it pulsed unsettlingly. She knew she shouldn’t hand it over so quickly, but she also knew she needed to hear its story.

Reluctantly, she let you take it, watching closely as you held the necklace against your chest as if it were sacred.

“It’s a beautiful necklace,” Wanda remarked, studying your expression. “Is there a special story behind it?”

Your smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a shadow of sadness. You took a deep breath, holding the pendant delicately. “I… lost my parents when I was four,” you began, your voice low but steady. “It was a fire. Everything was gone that night... everything. I barely remember them, just flashes and the feeling of heat and smoke. The only thing that survived was this necklace.”

Wanda frowned slightly, absorbing your words. “And you don’t know how you survived the fire?”

You shook your head. “I have no idea. The firefighters said it was a miracle I made it because by the time they arrived, the house was nearly ashes. But… here I am. I like to think it’s some kind of charm. Something that carries a piece of my parents with me.”

Wanda nodded slowly, but the unease in her chest grew. The necklace wasn’t just a sentimental artifact—she was sure of that. She knew enough about magic to recognize when something was extraordinary, and that pendant radiated a peculiar energy, both protective and ominous.

“It’s a beautiful and tragic story,” Wanda said softly, trying to mask her concern. “But I understand why it’s so important to you.”

You smiled faintly, putting the necklace back around your neck. “Now that I have it with me, I feel like I can breathe again.”

Wanda held your hand for a moment, her touch firm but comforting. “And it always will be. I promise.”

As you relaxed on the couch again, distracted by plans for your first day at work, Wanda lingered for a moment. The guilt over what she was hiding began to weigh on her, but she knew she couldn’t ignore the implied threat of that pendant.

She had to uncover the truth—what the necklace truly meant, why it survived the fire, and, above all, what it said about you. And she would do whatever it took to protect you. Always.

[...]

The aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, mingling with the familiar sound of toast popping out of the toaster and the morning chatter of the boys arguing over who would get to school faster. You sat at the table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea, trying to calm the anxiety twisting your stomach.

Wanda was beside you, slicing fruit with an apparent calm, but you noticed the quick glances she kept throwing your way, as if she were monitoring you closely.

“You’re going to be amazing,” Billy said suddenly, sliding a buttered piece of toast your way. “People are going to love you. I mean, we love you.”

“Exactly,” Tommy added, his mouth full of cereal. “And if they don’t, it’s because they have terrible taste.”

You smiled, their warm words easing your tension a little. “Thank you, boys. That means a lot.”

Wanda, however, wasn’t content with just words of encouragement. Setting the knife in the sink, she approached, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed as she looked at you with a mix of seriousness and tenderness.

“Listen here,” she began, her tone calm but carrying that firmness that made your spine straighten. “If anyone’s mean to you, if anything bothers you, you call me or text me. Got it?”

The protective yet slightly threatening tone made you raise an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re going to protect me, Avenger?”

“I am,” she replied without hesitation, her eyes sparking with a determination that made your heart race. “And not just because I can. It’s because you’re mine. And no one has the right to make you feel less than amazing.”

The boys exchanged knowing glances before Billy muttered, “Here comes Mama Bear...”

Wanda glanced at them, but the smile that slipped from her lips softened any attempt at reprimand.

You chuckled softly, standing and walking over to her, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, Wanda. Really. I needed to hear that.”

She held your hand for a moment, giving it a light squeeze. “You’ll always have someone in your corner. Me. Don’t forget that.”

The rest of breakfast passed in a lighter mood, and as you left the house for your first day of work, you couldn’t help but glance back, seeing Wanda and the boys waving from the door. No matter how nervous you felt, you knew that, come what may, you had a home filled with love and support waiting for you.

The sound of your footsteps echoed through the impeccably polished hallways as you followed Sharon, the school secretary, trying to keep your nerves in check. She spoke animatedly about how excited the staff was to meet you, but you barely heard her. The first-day jitters were mingling with a growing curiosity.

When you reached the office door, Sharon knocked twice before stepping inside, gesturing for you to follow. “Principal Hill, this is the new literature teacher, Ms. Y/n.”

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment at the mention of that name. Principal Hill? It couldn’t be that Hill… could it?

But when your eyes met the figure behind the dark wooden desk, any doubt you had was crushed. There she was: Maria Hill. The same impeccable posture, the piercing gaze that seemed to see into your soul, and the authoritative air you’d never forget.

"Welcome, Professor Y/n," Maria said, standing up and extending her hand. Her voice was serious, professional, but you knew well the weight behind it.

You tried to hide the tremor in your hand as you shook hers. "It’s a pleasure to be here, Principal Hill. Thank you for the opportunity."

The shock of finding Maria Hill there, as the principal of the school where you’d be working, still burned in your mind as Sharon made the introductions. You tried to maintain your composure, but the weight of high school memories was creeping into your thoughts like an unwelcome ghost.

Maria stood, her eyes briefly widening when they met yours. The surprise on her face was fleeting, quickly replaced by her usual mask of professionalism, but you noticed. You always noticed too much when it came to her.

"Welcome, Professor Y/n," she began, her voice still firm, but with a slight hesitation you recognized immediately.

"Principal Hill," you replied, with a smile that was a bit tighter than it should’ve been. The tension between you felt almost electric, but Sharon seemed oblivious, continuing with the introductions as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

When Sharon finished speaking, Maria tilted her head, her gaze fixed on yours as if trying to decipher something. Finally, she broke the silence. "I see you’ve grown well," she said, her tone casual but with a hint of something you couldn’t quite define.

Those words hit you like a punch. Grown well? Was that all she had to say after years of cruelty, judgmental glances, and harsh words whispered in crowded hallways?

You lifted your chin, refusing to show any weakness. "That’s what they say, right? Time works wonders," you replied, keeping your voice steady, even though something inside you was churning.

Her lips curved slightly into something that wasn’t quite a smile. Maybe it was discomfort, maybe regret. You weren’t sure. "I hope your experience here will be productive. The school has high standards, but I’m confident you’ll meet them."

"Thank you, Principal Hill," you replied with a respectful nod, though not without a touch of irony.

As Sharon guided you out of the office, you could feel Maria’s eyes still on you. That old feeling of being under her microscope returned, but this time, you weren’t the awkward, insecure teenager. Now, you were a confident adult with a purpose.

And, while you didn’t yet know what the future held, you were sure of one thing: Maria Hill wouldn’t be able to tear you down again.

Your first day as a Literature teacher began with a mix of excitement and nerves. You’d spent the night reviewing your lesson plan, tweaking every detail, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the moment you stepped into the classroom and found twenty-five young faces staring at you with curiosity—and in some cases, boredom.

"Good morning, class," you began, smiling nervously. "I’m Professor Y/N, and this is my first day here, just like yours. I hope we can discover together what makes Literature so fascinating."

There were a few murmurs in the room, but one hand shot up almost immediately.

"If it’s so fascinating, why do they force us to learn it?" Peter Parker asked, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

A few chuckles echoed through the room, and you realized you needed to act quickly to win their attention.

"Great question, Peter," you replied, looking directly at him, which made the boy blush slightly. "But I’d say Literature isn’t about forcing anyone to do anything. It’s about understanding stories—and everyone loves a good story, right?"

"That depends," America Chavez commented from the back of the room, her arms crossed, a defiant air about her.

"Depends on what?" you asked, approaching her desk with a smile.

"If the story’s good enough to be worth the time," she replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Then I’ll make you a deal," you said, looking at the entire class. "If by the end of this semester you don’t find at least one story that moves you, one that makes you feel something, then I’ve failed as a teacher."

A buzz spread through the room. You sensed that some students were intrigued, while others seemed to have already decided it would be impossible.

"And where do we start?" Kamala Khan asked excitedly, leaning forward on her desk.

"We start with the classics," you said, holding up a copy of The Great Gatsby. "And along the way, we’ll discover how the stories we read reflect who we are—and who we want to be."

Reactions were mixed. Peter let out an audible sigh, while America rolled her eyes. But Kamala was smiling, clearly excited, and you realized you’d at least found one ally in the room.

The class was going relatively well. You managed to keep most students’ attention while discussing the nuances of the characters in The Great Gatsby. Well, almost everyone. America Chavez was leaning back in her chair, her expression a mix of skepticism and impatience.

"So," you began, turning to the board as you wrote some reflective questions. "What’s your opinion on Daisy Buchanan? Do you think she really loved Gatsby?"

Silence hung for a few seconds before America’s firm, slightly disdainful voice broke it:

"She’s the worst girlfriend in Literature. Like, terrible."

The class burst into laughter, and even you had to suppress a smile before turning to her.

"Interesting perspective, America," you replied, trying not to laugh. "Care to elaborate?"

America straightened in her chair, clearly ready to make her case. "First of all, she’s all swooning over Gatsby, but when he shows up, all she does is make drama. And the worst part? At the end, she basically lets the guy take the fall alone! Who does that?"

"Classic betrayal," Peter murmured to Ned, who nodded seriously.

"And don’t even get me started on her driving," America continued, now gesturing animatedly. "If I were Gatsby, I would’ve run the other way the first time she got behind the wheel."

"Hey, hold on," Kamala interjected, frowning. "Don’t you think she was just trapped in a system that gave her no choices? Like, she’s as much a victim as Gatsby, in a way."

"Victim? Gatsby’s the victim," America shot back. "She had choices. She just made all the worst ones. And seriously, who gets that obsessed with nice shirts?"

More laughter filled the room, and you finally couldn’t hold back and laughed as well.

"Okay, okay," you said, raising your hands to calm the growing chaos. "So, we have an interesting point here. America thinks Daisy is the worst girlfriend in Literature, while Kamala believes she’s a victim of circumstances."

"It’s deeper than that," Peter chimed in, raising his hand. "Daisy represents the limits of the American Dream. She’s just another piece of the broken machine."

"Ah, right, philosopher," America replied, rolling her eyes. "She's just a terrible girlfriend, period."

"Maybe we should make a list of the worst girlfriends in literature to compare," you suggested, unable to resist.

"List? Easy," America said with a grin. "Daisy is number one. Then, I don't know... Lady Macbeth? She made her husband commit murder, so that's worse, right?"

"And would that be a literature assignment or couples therapy?" you joked, making the students laugh even more.

In the end, you managed to regain control of the class, but the discussion about the "worst girlfriends in literature" became an inside joke among the students. America seemed proud to have sparked the debate, while Peter and Kamala continued arguing in the hallways after class.

As for you? Well, you knew this was the kind of class everyone would remember—including you.

You came home after work, exhausted but eager to see the boys and Wanda. Opening the door, you were greeted by Tommy, who dashed down the hallway shouting something about beating Billy in a game.

"Hello to you too," you said with a laugh, closing the door behind you.

The babysitter, a young woman with gentle features and her hair tied up in a messy bun, appeared shortly after, holding a sketchpad that had apparently served as a battleground between the brothers.

"Hi, Y/N," she greeted warmly. "The boys were excited to see you. Wanda hasn’t arrived yet."

You nodded, dropping your bag on the couch. "Thanks, Emma. I’ll wait with them."

The boys settled on the living room floor, debating which episode of Teen Titans to watch, while you and Emma sat on the couch. After a few minutes of casual conversation about the boys and their antics, the topic turned more personal.

"It’s funny," Emma said, fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater and smiling thoughtfully. "I started working as a nanny just to leave home early. It was the only thing that gave me some independence. Now, I love what I do. Being around kids... It’s therapeutic."

"I can imagine," you replied, leaning forward slightly, curiosity dancing in your eyes. "But what made you leave home so early? You seem so comfortable with what you do that I’d never have guessed."

Emma hesitated, glancing down at her hands, now nervously fiddling with the hem of her sweater. "My mom..." she began, her voice faltering before hardening with a hint of bitterness. "When she found out I liked girls, everything changed. She wasn’t my mom anymore. It was like living with a stranger who hated everything about me. Every move I made felt wrong. It wasn’t a home, you know? It was a battlefield."

Your heart ached at her words, the pain resonating deeply. "I understand," you said softly, your voice almost breaking. "In the orphanage... Being different was a sentence too. It didn’t matter what it was—too quiet, too curious, too anything—you became a target. Pain can harden you, but somehow, it also gave me strength."

Emma looked up at you, her eyes glistening with tears. "It’s good to hear that from someone who really understands," she said, her voice trembling. "Because sometimes, it feels like I’ll carry this pain forever."

Without hesitation, you reached out, covering her hand with yours—a firm but gentle touch that offered warmth and comfort. "No one should carry that alone, Emma," you said, meeting her gaze directly. "And you know what’s even more incredible? That strength you have... It’s yours alone. No one—not even the past—can take that away from you."

The first tears fell from her eyes, and almost instinctively, you raised a hand to gently wipe them away. The gesture was simple but profoundly caring. "You’re not alone," you whispered, smiling tenderly.

Emma let out a soft laugh amidst her tears, wiping her own eyes shortly after. "Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know why I’m falling apart like this, but... thank you."

"Sometimes falling apart is what we need," you replied with a knowing smile. "And sometimes, a juice or coffee helps hold things together."

Emma laughed again, shaking her head. "You’re good at this."

"Let’s just say it’s my specialty," you replied, winking as the boys shouted from the kitchen, complaining about something to do with pancakes and chocolate syrup.

"I hope I’m not interrupting."

Wanda’s voice cut through the moment like a blade, carrying a tone that was almost casual, yet laced with an undertone you couldn’t ignore. You turned quickly, finding her standing in the doorway, her bag slung over one shoulder, her eyes fixed on your hand still resting over Emma’s.

"Hey, you’re home," you said, trying to sound more composed than you felt as you instinctively pulled your hand away.

Wanda stepped into the room, her movements precise and controlled. She set her bag on the table with a smile that felt deliberate, but not quite warm. "I hope the boys weren’t too much trouble, Emma."

Emma, visibly flustered, quickly stood, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "Not at all. They were great, as always. Well, I should get going. Goodnight, Wanda. Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Emma," you replied, watching her leave before turning back to Wanda, who remained standing with her arms crossed, an expression that hovered between curiosity and something sharper.

"She seems... nice," Wanda remarked, her voice overly casual.

"She is," you said, moving toward her, trying to ease the tension that thickened the air. "And she’s been through a lot. I was just trying to comfort her."

Wanda raised an eyebrow, her eyes assessing you as her expression softened slightly. "You have a knack for attracting broken hearts, you know that?"

"It’s because I’m irresistible," you teased, flashing a playful smile to lighten the mood.

Wanda sighed, but the corner of her mouth lifted in a faint smile. "You are. But you’re mine."

You arched an eyebrow, feigning indignation at her clear display of possessiveness. "No need to be jealous, my love. I have a thing for older women, redheads, super bossy, and ridiculously powerful."

A genuine smile finally broke across her face as you leaned in to gently kiss her shoulder. "Bargaining, are we?" Wanda murmured, her arm sliding around you to pull you closer.

"Just reminding you that your place in my heart is unbeatable," you quipped, resting your forehead against hers.

"Nice try," Wanda replied, but the soft chuckle that escaped her told you you’d won this round.

You laughed, feeling the tension dissolve as she tugged you along by the hand. Even if jealousy had flared, you knew that your place beside Wanda—in her life, in her heart—was uniquely yours.

The twins were eager, as always, when you sat on the rug, surrounded by the soft cushions scattered across the living room floor. The gentle glow of the lamp made the room feel even cozier. Billy was already seated, his eyes attentive, while Tommy, pretending disinterest, tossed a pillow into the corner but was clearly ready to listen.

"Today, I’m going to tell you a special story," you began, adjusting yourself on the rug and looking at the two. "It’s an ancient Greek legend about two souls that never stopped finding each other, no matter what happened."

Billy’s eyes widened, already immersed in the promise of the tale. "Is it about love? Like, soulmates?"

You smiled, appreciating the innocence of his question. "Exactly. It’s about Orpheus and Eurydice."

Tommy, who had been slouching to the side, sat up a little straighter, still trying to seem indifferent. "This is going to be tragic, isn’t it?"

"Maybe," you replied, winking at him. "But it’s also going to be beautiful."

Wanda, who you knew was in the kitchen tinkering with something, seemed far too quiet. There was that familiar energy in the air, as if she were listening to every word.

"Orpheus was such a talented musician that even the gods stopped to listen when he played his lyre," you began, your voice imbued with the emotion of the story. "And Eurydice was the nymph he loved more than anything. They were inseparable… until something terrible happened."

The narration unfolded, and you described the snake bite, Eurydice’s death, and Orpheus’s journey to the underworld. Billy was practically holding his breath, while Tommy, now completely engrossed, leaned forward.

"Did he save her?" Billy asked, the anxiety clear in his voice.

"Almost," you replied, pausing dramatically, letting the air in the room hold the weight of the moment. "But at the last second, he doubted.

He turned to look at her before they were completely out of the underworld. And because of that, he lost her forever. Eurydice was pulled back, and Orpheus was left alone, with only his music and the memory of the love they had shared."

Tommy, abandoning his posture of disinterest, sighed. "That’s so sad."

"It is sad," you admitted, leaning slightly toward them, "but it’s also beautiful. Because even after death, even after everything, they say their souls kept finding each other. In every life, in every form. Like birds flying together or stars shining side by side in the sky. They never stopped loving each other."

At that moment, you felt a gaze on you. Lifting your eyes, you found Wanda standing in the doorway. She held a mug of tea, but it was clear she had forgotten about it. Her eyes were fixed on you, and there was something deep in them—a intensity that made your heart race.

"That’s the most powerful part of the story," Wanda said, her voice low but filled with meaning. "No matter how many times they’re lost, they always find their way back to each other."

The twins looked at her and then at you, as if sensing something in the air they couldn’t quite understand.

"What happens if they don’t find each other in one life?" Tommy asked, breaking the silence.

"Then it’s just a matter of time," Wanda answered before you could open your mouth. "Because some souls are destined to find each other, no matter how long it takes."

Billy smiled, satisfied. "This is my favorite story so far."

"Mine too," you murmured, but your eyes remained locked on Wanda’s. The connection between you felt almost tangible, like an invisible thread vibrating in the air.

Wanda smiled softly, that smile that said everything without needing words. She knew. And so did you.

Fate is a tireless dancer, its steps entwined with luck and will, with desire and chance. It carries us along paths we don’t choose, but that somehow always seem to find us. Uncertainty is its greatest charm and its greatest torment—the not knowing, the almost, the maybe.

In every life, in every beginning, we are pawns on the infinite board of time, guided by invisible hands whispering promises we don’t know if they’ll keep. And yet, we leap forward, trusting that, at some point, the scattered lines will converge.

There’s a cruel beauty in uncertainty. It’s what makes the heart race at the possibility, what gives a meeting a bittersweet flavor, tempered by doubt. It’s what turns a moment into eternity because the next moment is unknown, as fragile as a thread in the wind.

When Wanda said those words—"It’s just a matter of time"—something stirred inside you, like a buried truth, a certainty you didn’t know you carried. It was the faith that even in the roughest seas, even in the driest deserts, there’s something that always calls us back. An invisible magnet, a song only two souls can hear.

And if they don’t meet in one life? Then, perhaps, it will be in the next. Or the one after that. Because some connections transcend what is tangible, defy logic, ignore probabilities. They are the stars that always end up forming constellations, the rivers that, sooner or later, find the sea.

You looked at the twins, their eyes shining with the innocence only youth can offer. And then at Wanda, whose eyes said so much with so little. In that moment, there was no uncertainty. Only the certainty of now—her gaze, the invisible thread that bound you, and the promise that, no matter how uncertain fate may be, it always brings the right souls back to each other.

Even if it takes time. Even if it hurts. Even if the dance between you feels endless.

~*~

You are free to create theories from now on. Whoever comes closest may receive a prize hehehe

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