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luvsupa · 2 months ago

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JUST ONE HOUR!

tags: exhusband!toji x fem!reader, businessman toji (guys pls he’s rich in this </3), petnames, smut (p in v), unprotected, mentions of reader being a mother again, etc. mdni.

w.c: 1.4k

a/n: sawryy been kinda ia bc of uni </33

you step into the crowded venue alone, the air thick with chatter and the lively notes of a string quartet filling the beautifully decorated hall. everyone around you is dressed elegantly for your ex-husband’s extravagant charity event. you hadn’t wanted to show support for him, but after much convincing from your friends and children, you reluctantly gave in, promising yourself you’d only stay for an hour.

as you navigate through the crowds of familiar faces, many of your old friends greet you, their compliments on your long, black, sparkly dress feeling insincere. awkwardly making small talk, you realize how distant you’ve become from these people since your divorce from toji.

“how are your children, mrs. fushiguro?” a married woman asks, her arm linked tightly with her husband’s—who, as you know, is traveling abroad to cheat on her.

“i’d prefer if you didn’t call me fushiguro; we’re not married anymore, remember?” you respond, lifting your empty ring finger to emphasize your point. gasps of shock ripple through the group at your “rudeness.”

“oh, darling, I completely understand your desire to drop the fushiguro name. it’s not like you have the charm or elegance to carry it anyway,” another married woman chimes in, laughter erupting around you, igniting a fiery rage in your chest.

“honestly, if toji were with someone like me, I’d take care of his every need in ways you can only dream of. I know how to keep a man satisfied, which is clearly something you’re not equipped for,” a third woman interjects, pushing your anger to its peak. the background chatter fades away as your breathing becomes heavy and your vision narrows.

“well, it’s a shame you think you’re so special because, from what I hear, your husbands are cheating on you. I guess when you can’t satisfy them, they go looking elsewhere—”

before you can finish, toji strides in from behind you. his large hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his broad chest as he leans down to your ear. “easy, brat. I can’t let you go on with that mouth of yours,” he scolds, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. you can’t help but hitch your breath at the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

the expressions of the married women shift, their eyes darting to their husbands, who stammer awkwardly at their words. you suppress a giggle as chaos erupts around you, arguments bubbling up as they turn on their partners. with everyone distracted, you push toji’s hand away from your waist and turn to scoff at him. but fuck, he looks good. his black, luxurious suit hugs his frame perfectly, the white button-up shirt undone just enough to reveal a hint of his toned chest. toji smirks, the scar on the corner of his lips rising as he notices how you scan him.

you push past the crowd, making your way up the large spiral staircase while exchanging polite greetings with those you pass. you can feel his eyes boring into your back—an almost burning sensation—as you glance over your shoulder to catch him in the sea of wealthy businessmen, sipping on champagne. your heart races when you see him flaunting the matching wedding ring you once shared, its brilliance shining in the bright venue.

hastily, you rush up the steps, opening door after door in search of an unoccupied washroom. frustration mounts with each locked door, but hope reignites when you spot double doors at the end of the hall. as if your prayers have been answered, the doors swing open to reveal the most beautiful room you’ve ever seen—a private lounge. your eyes sparkle as you take in the elegant decor, complete with a private kitchen and balcony.

your heels clack against the polished marble floor as you place your clutch on the large island table, relief washing over you as you settle into the quiet space, far removed from the pretentious crowd downstairs.

“trying to slip away? don’t pretend you’re not enjoying the chase; I know you’d miss me way too much,”

a low voice booms in the serene atmosphere, startling you. you turn to see toji standing there with his hands in his pockets, slowly striding toward you until he’s right in front of you, looking down at you with a smirk.

“you look so good, doll,” he says, his voice low as he leans against the island table, biting his lower lip as he admires your figure in the elegant dress.

and you really—really tried to resist him.

but it was impossible to think straight with the way he was pounding into you, hitting every perfect angle and reaching the deepest parts of your throbbing hole. your slick walls clenched around his thick shaft, making it all the more maddening. toji had you bent over the island table, your dress bunched up around your waist, leaving your bare ass exposed in the private lounge. your eyes rolled back as his relentless thrusts sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, his grip on your hips nearly bruising. the room filled with the sinful sounds of skin slapping and the broken melodies of your moans mingling with his low groans.

“my. . . pretty. . fuckin’. . wife.” toji growled, each word punctuated by a deep, punishing thrust that slammed into your sweet spot, sending jolts of pleasure through your trembling body. his hand shot up, tangling in your hair as he yanked your head back, forcing your back to arch while he relentlessly pounded into you.

“t-toj’—” you stammered, your voice barely coherent between breathless moans, your body jerking with each rough thrust. “’s too m-much…” your words trailed off into high-pitched whines, your mind too hazy to form anything more than desperate pleas.

leaning down, his lips brushed against your ear, his hot breath igniting every nerve in your body. “you can take it, you’re a big girl,” he rasped, nibbling on your earlobe, his voice dripping with dominance. “look at you, babbling for me.”

the wet, obscene sound of your cunt squelching around him only fueled his pace, your moans intertwining with the sinful symphony as he continued driving into you without mercy, pulling more helpless words from your lips.

in a swift motion, toji hoisted your leg up, his grip firm and unrelenting, holding it in place as his hips snapped forward at a brutal, faster pace. the new angle sent shockwaves through you as his thick tip pressed deeper, practically rearranging your insides. the intense sensation made you crumble, barely able to hold yourself together as he drove you closer to the edge with every thrust.

“gonna make you a pretty mama again, mmm? all filled up.” toji rasped in your ear, his voice low and teasing as you sobbed loudly, tears spilling down your cheeks, nearly drooling at the thought of being filled to the brim. a smirk tugged at his lips when he felt you clench around him,

so fuckin’ nasty, he thought.

he snaked the hand on your neck down to your sensitive nub, pinching your clit between his fingers and sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you as your leg began to shake.

“i can feel it��hahh— you in my tummy,” you whimpered, the realization igniting a rush of pleasure and desperation within you. toji lost it at your words, his breath hitching as he looked down, watching the outline of your stomach stretch against the fabric of your dress, the bulge unmistakably visible.

the sight drove him absolutely feral, a primal hunger surging through him. “hn, f-fuck, baby,” he whimpered, the words slipping from his lips as he struck even harder, each powerful stroke pushing you closer to your limits.

“mr. fushiguro, i-it’s time for your speech.”

your heart dropped at the sound of a female voice behind the doors, a stark reminder of the world waiting just outside. but toji—oh, toji—his primal instincts kicked in, and the thought of being interrupted only fuelling his desire to finish inside you. nothing would stop him from pleasing his baby.

“t-toj’… you— ngh— you have to go…” you squeaked, desperation lacing your voice as he harshly slapped your slick, throbbing cunt, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. your thighs sticky as cobwebs of your arousal clung to his fingers, causing you to tremble uncontrollably.

“upp we go,” a smirk spread across toji’s face as he stepped back, maintaining his cock snug against your gummy walls. with a firm grip, he lifted both of your legs, carrying you as he approached the doors leading to the balcony where the majority of the guests awaited his speech.

fuck.

“just a little longer, baby,” he growled, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “i want them all to know you belong to me.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader smut #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x you #anime smut #jjk x reader smut #smut

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solelifauna · 13 days ago

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With Bared Teeth & Prayers (Yandere Batfam X Neglected Reader) (Dark!!! Werewolf AU) (PT. 1)

TW: Mentions/allusions to cannibalism, death, and violence.

Three years had passed since that fateful day and your life had only gotten more miserable. Whatever hopes you had for being a part of a family were thwarted as soon as you stepped foot in the household. Bruce doesn't care about you, Dick was straight up mean, Jason (as the pack protector) was aggressive, Tim found you annoying, and Damien simply loathed your existence and would join Dick with his cruelty.

Both Stephanie and Barbara were civil with you, but neither really cared about what you did. Cassandra was nice, sometimes signing to you and giving you scented clothing, but she still didn't really go out of her way to engage with you. The only person who you felt truly cared about you was Alfred.

The first two years you tried your hardest to fit in and get the others to like you. You did whatever they wanted, made sure to learn their interests so you could talk to them, never complained, and made sure to respect the pack's boundaries.

You hoped that eventually, you’d all move past this hurdle and soon you would get along and be allowed in the pack den and other pack activities. Unfortunately, you realized that you would never be considered part of the family or the pack. Which as heartbreaking as it was, was the least of your worries.

You see, there was an ancient custom in werewolf culture concerning new pack members and pack initiation. When a new werewolf is introduced to a pack and their territory, the new werewolf has a certain amount of time to be accepted into the pack; if they’re not, well, they're killed and eaten.

Yeah… quite terrifying and barbaric if you think about it, but mostly only the old lineages still continue this practice. Which is why you’re absolutely fucked. See, typically when children come to a pack they get accepted immediately, pups were (usually) considered precious.

In your case, being a half-blood severely reduced your chances and well, you guessed the Wayne family just didn't like you. Which sucks because you only have until your 18th birthday to get them to accept you, and considering your 16th birthday was coming up, your time was coming to a close.

Or, you could always just run away. Hey! It was an option, one that you weren't sure the Bats would even let happen. Still it was worth a try. Which leads to your current situation in Bruce's office; you were trying to cut your losses a little early.

~~~~~~

“Look, I just feel as though this is the best course of action for your pack’s and my own safety.” Came your exasperated and desperate voice.

“Safety?” Bruce questions, causally flipping through some Wayne Industries documents, as if he doesn't know exactly what you're talking about.

“Considering Damian’s tried to kill me five times, two of his attempts almost being successful, and Jason's pit aggression that has him ready to rip my throat out, you can see why someone would feel unsafe.” You state, voice raising slightly in pitch.

He hummed noncommittally, his eyes still focusing on whatever paperwork he was going over.

“I'll think about it.” He replies, still disinterested.

“There’s nothing to think about! I should be allowed to leave if I want to, and if anything I'll finally be out of your pack's way.” You say, finally letting your frustration show through.

Why couldn't he just let you leave? Did he seriously want to keep you here just to kill– sorry, eat you in another two years?

“Excuse me?” He finally looks up from his work, his blue eyes meeting yours. He was unimpressed, you could tell that much at least, coupled with a dark look of simmering anger.

Okay, so maybe you should tone it down a notch.

“Come on, I'm not an idiot. I know me being here is simply a public formality, good fluff bits for the press y'know. But I'm not part of your family, and I'm certainly not part of your pack. You and the others have made that very clear. So please, allow me to do us both a favor and get out of your way.” You add.

“Where would you go?”

“Huh?” You blink in surprise.

“Where would you go?” Bruce repeats again.

“That–that is honestly none of your concern.”

“None of my concern? Aren't I entitled to know where my kid is?”

“No, you’re not. Sure you're biologically considered my father, but we all know I'm not really considered your kid.”

“Is that what you think?” He questions.

“Am I supposed to think any differently?”

“You carry the Wayne surname do you not?”

“I do.”

“Then you belong to the Waynes. To me. Which means that I decide what happens to you.”

There was the familiar darkness that you saw pooling in Bruce’s eyes, the type that left the Joker a tortured mess, the type that disemboweled Ra’s Al Ghul, the type of darkness that reminded you that Batman doesn’t kill. Oh no, he maims and tortures instead.

You unconsciously take a careful step back.

Bruce’s stare felt like ice, and his words hung in the air, thick and heavy with an authority that was absolute. You wanted to argue, to say something, but every instinct in your body screamed for caution. There was a darkness in his gaze that you had seen glimpses of before, but never directed at you, and now it was there, unblinking, cutting through any hope you’d harbored for mercy or understanding.

Your heart hammered, yet you forced yourself to stand straighter, swallowing down the instinctive fear.

“With all due respect,” you began, your voice smaller than you intended but steady, “staying here for another two years just for you all to—to follow through with that—custom, doesn’t seem fair.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t soften, but his posture shifted slightly, his gaze piercing through you like he could see every thought you tried to hide.

“Belonging is earned. It isn’t granted because of blood,” he stated coldly. “If you truly wish to belong somewhere, you work for it.”

“I’ve tried,” you said, voice thick with frustration. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve followed your rules, I tried with everyone, and stayed out of everyone’s way. But nothing I do is good enough.”

“You assume that acceptance is given on your terms,” he replied, voice as controlled as ever. “Pack structure doesn’t bend to anyone’s whims. Least of all a half-blood who hasn’t proven their loyalty.”

The words stung, tearing open a wound that you thought had scarred over. You clenched your fists, feeling the sharp ache of your own nails digging into your palms. “And what exactly does proving myself look like here? Surviving Damian’s attacks? Letting Jason rip me apart every chance he gets?”

“Watch your tone,” he warned, his voice low, cutting through any retort you’d planned.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to take another step back from his desk. Challenging him wouldn’t help. He’d already decided where you stood, and nothing you said would change that. Maybe it was better to save your energy, conserve your strength for the day you’d finally slip away.

“Understood,” you said, swallowing the bitterness in your throat. “If that’s how it is, then I’ll stay out of everyone’s way.”

But you’d still leave when the time comes.

Bruce’s gaze hardened, like he knew what you were thinking. “Your place is here until I decide otherwise,” he said, a finality in his tone that told you any further argument would only worsen things.

He dismissed you with a look, returning to his papers as if the conversation were over, as if you were no longer there. Every step you took out of the office felt heavier, like the manor itself was holding you down, binding you to this place that was never truly a home.

As you closed the door behind you, the cold emptiness of the hallway wrapped around you, and you knew then—you were on your own. If you were to survive this, it would be on your own terms.

It's like clockwork when Alfred calls you down for dinner. The same time, the same routine.

You show up to dinner, hands still shaking and mind still reeling from your disturbingly cryptic conversation with Bruce. But, never mind that you’d just eat quietly and leave like you always do. You moved to your normal seat only to find that all the chairs near the end of the table had disappeared. What the actual fuck. Was this some type of powerplay? Something to imply that you didn’t even have a seat at their table anymore?

You mean, you wouldn't mind eating in the safety and comfort of your own room. With an exasperated sigh, which had a couple of heads turn their attention to you, you grabbed an empty plate and started loading it up with food. You were about to head back to your room when you heard an outraged growl from behind you.

The kind of growl that had you tensing, ready to submit and roll onto your back.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jason growled out from behind you.

You freeze.

“To my room?” You responded meekly, curling in on yourself as much as you could.

“And pray tell, why do you think that’d be acceptable?”

“Uh–um, ‘cause my seats’ gone?”

Jason only smirked, the feral kind that almost always promised pain to his enemies.

“Oh, but your chair isn't gone, it's right here.” Jason says pointing to a chair right near the head of the table.

You blanked. That's not right. Only pack was allowed that close to the head of the table, where Bruce sat, where the pack leader sat.

“B-But, I can’t–”

“Did that sound like a suggestion?”

You shook your head no, swallowing down a whimper that almost escaped your lungs.

“Then sit your ass down,” Jason growled.

He didn't have to tell you twice.

Immediately you shakily sat down in your new seat, on the left side of Bruce’s seat at the head of the table with Jason sitting at your left shoulder and Dick across from you. Not good, not good at all. You could feel the acidic, green gaze of Jason burning into the side of your face whilst Dick languidly sipped his wine, a sickeningly sweet smile (with way too many teeth to be considered anything but malicious), plastered on his face as he stared at the new seating chart. You let out a shaky breath, trying to get your heart rate back to normal; you were so gonna die tonight.

Thankfully, Bruce arrived and sat himself in his seat at the head of the table; right next to you. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on getting air in your lungs and slowing your racing heart. Unbeknownst to you, Bruce shot a knowing stare at the rest of the table. As much as you tried to conceal it, they could all hear your rapidly fluttering heartbeat and your poorly hidden breathing. Tim and Jason both watched you amused; you looked so darn pathetic, sitting there trembling like a leaf.

You glanced down at your plate, picking at the food without really tasting it, hoping that staying silent would help you melt into the background.

Bruce, however, remained still and silent, his presence looming over you, radiating the authority that seemed to keep everyone else in check. But even that felt like a facade; the way his gaze lingered on you for a split second too long told you he was watching closely, assessing.

You forced yourself to take a bite, trying to steady your hands enough to appear somewhat composed. But the sound of your own heartbeat seemed to echo in your ears, loud and unrelenting, as if amplifying the anxiety that twisted in your gut. They could hear it too; you knew that much from the way Jason’s smirk deepened, from the way Tim’s lips twitched with barely-contained laughter.

As the dinner dragged on, every clink of a fork, every quiet murmur, felt like it was directed at you. The food turned to ash in your mouth, each bite only reminding you of the eyes trained on you, dissecting you with every chew and every breath.

The rest of the dinner passed in strained silence, every second an endurance test as you forced yourself to stay seated, to keep your head down. When Bruce finally pushed his chair back and dismissed everyone, the wave of relief was almost enough to make you lightheaded. Quick as a whip, you practically ran up the stairs towards the safety and solace of your room.

When you make it, the locks on your door are immediately fastened (not that it would do much if anyone wanted to actually force their way in). You exhale in relief as you try to collect your thoughts. Fuck, everything was going to shit; the worst part being you had school tomorrow (which thankfully you did not go to Gotham Prep; you'd kill yourself if you did). You groaned at the thought, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes to relieve the ache shooting through them.

Looks like another night of shitty sleep.

Taglist!!: @lostsomewhereinthegarden, @the-rouge-robin, @confused-they

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la7ma-mafrooma · 10 months ago

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I wanted to share something personal because I don't think a lot of you understand the influence of the West and its atrocities on an Arab child's upbringing. English is not my first language; I learnt it initially due to my interest in the language and Western cultures. However, seeing the true face of the West motivated me to continue learning the language to dismantle the false image of Arabs and Muslims which was portrayed by the West. I also talk about how this impacted my standing with the Palestinian cause. Bear with me as this post is long and a little messy, but I need to try and give everyone a clear and full image as much as I can.

I grew up consuming Western media due to my fascination with the English language. However I noticed the lack of Muslim and Arab representation.

When I started seeing representation later on, it was mostly Arabs and Muslims being depicted as 'terrorists' and 'barbarics'.

When a Muslim woman is depicted, she is depicted as 'oppressed' and in need of 'saving'.

I was on social media starting from a very young age. Seeing people online describe my people as 'terrorists' was not only scary, but also confusing. Why am I as an Arab Muslim child -who's living a normal childhood as everyone else- being labelled as a 'terrorist' by the West? Why are people claiming all Arab and Muslim children are trained to use guns by ISIS or/and Hamas? I remember asking my parents as a kid "Is this a real gun with the police officer?" Because I only saw weapons in movies.

I asked questions such as "Why do they think Arabs = Muslims?" The lack of acknowledgment of Christian and Jewish Arabs and non-Arab Muslims confused me.

Why were Muslim women always 'oppressed' in these movies and TV shows I saw? This is not as common as they make it seem. Why are they using the struggle of some Muslim women to demonize an entire religion? Why are they pretending to be saviours when they're actually contributing to further oppression of Muslim women? Why are they weaponizing the awful struggle of some Muslim women against the vast majority of Muslim women? (White feminism is not saving us. It's actually a form of oppression of Muslim women)

Misrepresentation bothered me and made me angry and disappointed. I couldn't finish watching a movie or an episode of a TV show if I saw any mentions of Muslims or/and Arabs, because I knew what would happen next.

When it comes to the Palestinian cause, every Arab grew up watching endless footage of Palestinians being brutally murdered LIVE. Everything and all the footage all of you are surprised to see during this genocide, were a part of our upbringing.

When I was a kid I stumbled upon a newspaper in the house with a headline about a Palestinian father who returned to his house and found all his children shot. And I remember the image very well. The father was holding a prayer mat with people holding him as he broke down on his knees. His dead children were on the floor next to each other. Seeing this image of children my age murdered by the Israeli occupation shocked me. I remember my parents having to hide the newspaper from me because of the impact this image had on me.

I had to start reading into politics at a young age, and I realized that everything that Western media was trying to portray about the West being 'civilized' was a lie. How can you be civilized if you're a murderer or/and contribute to the murder of the innocent?

When I learnt about the history of imperialism, colonialism, slavery,...etc. growing up, I recognized the pattern that colonialists use and I saw that the colonizers of yesterday, are the same as today, except Western media is doing a great job covering for them nowadays, and a lot of people only started noticing that recently.

The West seemed fascinating to me as a child, but after seeing the horrendous false images that're being portrayed of my people in the West, all of my fascination turned into anger and motivation to fight against it.

The real terrorists in the world are not the brown and bearded men, veiled women, or the innocent children. The real terrorists are the ones who set the stage for the murder of innocent people, the exploitation of their resources, using propaganda and painting an image of the innocent that cannot be more false and racist, and the fascists that put on a 'civilized' mask.

I will forever stand with my Palestinian brothers and sisters. I will forever defend my Arab and Muslim brothers and sisters, and I won't give room to any misrepresentation. Enough is enough.

Edit: I wanted to add that growing up, I was scared of telling people about where I'm from, my religion, and what language I speak due to the microaggression and discrimination I was subjected to. Not to mention the amount of times I saw on the news Arabs or/and Muslims getting killed in Western countries (aka hate crimes).

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imaginedanvrs · 8 months ago

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atonement

masterlist

camp counselor!wanda x reader

word count: 6k

warnings: homophobia and homophobic slurs, conversion therapy, manipulation, gaslighting, references to drug use, unhealthy power dynamics (so rape), noncon to dubcon, cunnilingus, degrading, fingering, nipple play, size kink, general mean Wanda

a/n: me? posting blasphemous content on Easter Sunday? I would never

It looked harmless enough. You weren’t sure what you had been anticipating, mostly because you had been trying to keep your mind off of the unavoidable destination, but it certainly wasn’t the depressing place you had expected. No, they were smart enough to keep that reality away from the parents that dropped their ‘troubled’ children off. If anything, it looked like the kind of summer camp that a lot of your friends would be enjoying about that time.

There wasn’t a church for one thing. In its place was what appeared to be a ranch style house that had kept its traditional family features such as the pair of rocking chairs on the porch and the maintained flowerbed around the borders. On either side of the building, closing in the driveway, were several other intimate buildings that created the impression of a community style living. They were all decorated with various posters about god’s love and acceptance that you guessed you were going to be hearing a lot about during your stay.

Your mother got out of the car first as a man who looked like he was still being dressed by his own mum jogged over from the main house to greet you both. You clenched your grip on your bag strap before deciding to face the music and follow her lead, still examining the area sceptically as your mother and the man introduced themselves. Your mother failed to deliver the same excitement the blonde did, but she attempted to force it nonetheless while your hosts laughed easily at something she had said.

You weren’t listening to either of them as you retrieved your other bag from the boot of the car, not expecting the man to walk around the other side to greet you. “Y/n!” He said like you were an old friend. “I’m Reverend Vision but you can call me Rev Vis.” You most certainly weren’t going to be doing that. “We’re so happy to have you here, let me give you the grand tour of our home,” he beckoned. You trailed behind them.

“Do you live on site?” Your mother asked.

“Oh yes, me and the Mrs. We love our work,” he drowned on and began guiding you through the various rooms of the two buildings either side of his house. The more you learnt about the place, the more you began to dread your stay. There were ‘entertainment’ rooms that were filled with musical instruments and religious books and music. A canteen area fueled by the kitchen in which all of the students were to prepare every meal. A prayer room that was deserted at that time. Finally, the dorms.

Vision wasted no time in searching through your bags for anything that could “interfere with your journey” and came up empty handed, much to his well hidden disappointment. Your mother didn’t seem to notice it, too focused on the contents that came out of your bag, but you saw the flicker of his brow when he declared you were all good and began explaining the long lists of rules that you had no intention of memorising.

“And we do not allow any kind of sexual acts, with yourself or others,” he said lightly. Your mother shifted uncomfortably and you nodded. You had no intention of being caught by him with your hands down your pants when he did his checks during the night. You didn’t anticipate being there long because you were fully prepared to fake your conversion to heterosexuality. How hard could it be? Besides, you dreaded to think how much your parents were paying the capm under the illusion that they could somehow change you. You had to find it humorous, otherwise it would really fucking hurt.

It still did when you watched your family car disappear past the camp gates and into the dense tree line. You sighed, resting your head gently against the cool glass of your window and took in the camp in its entirety. It was a waste of beautiful land, you concluded as you examined where the large field met the changing trees. There were a couple guys in the camp uniform playing football on the grass while a cluster of girls sat to the side cheering them on. Apparently you had caught the end of the game, because Vision appeared on the edge of the grass and called them back inside, most likely to prepare for dinner.

“Y/n,” a voice behind you called. You spun around at the unexpected caller just as she opened her arms and enveloped you in a tight hug that took you wholly by surprise.

“Hi?” You greeted as a question, making the older woman chuckle as she held you before pulling away and keeping her soft hands on your arms as she took you in and allowed you to do the same. Holy fuck she was beautiful. Her striking emerald eyes bore straight through your own and somehow had the ability to make you feel entirely exposed, as though it would be futile to ever conceal anything from her, including your undeniable attraction to her. In contrast, her smile was soft and polite as she gazed at you in a friendly fondness you would with someone you haven't seen in a long time. There was something noticeably comforting in it and the way she carried an entirely put together personar that you wanted a peek beneath. Metaphorically of course… but also literally.

“I’m Wanda, Vision’s wife.” Rev Vis was punching way above his weight. This woman’s voice was even hot. Maybe pretending to be straight would be harder than you thought.

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled and glanced away awkwardly, finding her impossible to maintain eye contact with. She didn’t seem to care as she hooked her finger under your chin and turned your head to keep your attention on her.

“I have every faith you’re going to do so well here, sweetheart,” she told you fondly then dropped her hand and took a respectful step back. Right, gotta leave room for jesus. “Your roommate will be back soon then you too should head down for supper,” she instructed as she headed for the door.

“Okay,” you nodded and pretended to unpack your bags.

“See you later, honey,” she said before disappearing. You exhaled a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding and collapsed onto your bed.

Your first day dragged by painstakingly slowly. Between meals, you attended bible study taught by Vision who gave you his extra attention as it was your first time there. He asked you to compare your own relationship with god to that which he was teaching, expecting an answer in front of all the other students who had been through the same ordeal and spotted your lies as well as Vision did. Apparently everyone did the same when they started at the camp.

You had kitchen duty in the morning and garden duty in the afternoon (which was probably the least crap one) before you had to sit down for what felt like hours to listen to Vision sing about god on a guitar he didn’t know how to tune properly. During every interaction you had with him, all you could think about was how he had ended up with a woman like Wanda. Had they been high school sweethearts? Had their parents pushed them together? Did he have some kind of twisted blackmail over her? They were the only three explanations that made any sense to you but you weren’t about to ask any of the other students for their input.

As it turned out, your daily routine was also going to include a one on one session with the older woman which should have been something to act as a silver lining in your stay, but it was the most challenging aspect of all.

“When did your desire for women begin?” She asked after some small talk.

“I’m not sure,” you lied in an effort to buy yourself some time to think of a good response. She smiled at you softly.

“You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to god,” she informed lightly.

“A couple years ago,” you replied honestly. This seemed to please her.

“And how did it manifest?” She sounded genuinely curious to know, lulling you into being unexpectedly open with her. It wasn’t as though you had anyone else to talk about that stuff with.

“There was a girl in my class that I thought was pretty,” you told her as you recalled your first real crush. “I felt more when she smiled at me than I did when I kissed a boy.” Wanda smiled as though she could see the purity of your memory as well as you could. Except to her, it wasn’t so innocent.

“The devil likes to work his way into places we could never expect,” she told you and your smile dropped. “Especially when we’re naive,” she added. It sounded as though she didn’t hold anything against you and she wholly believed you had been seduced by the devil himself and that it was impossible for there to be any other explanation.

“I was seventeen,” you reasoned. “I wasn’t naive.” Wanda liked the challenge you gave her. That whisper of a promised defiance gave her a thrill she knew to keep a cap unless she was required to use it. She would do anything for her beloved students to guide them back on the right path, especially one that wore the face of morality so well.

“And what do you mean by that?” Wanda enquired.

“I knew- I know what desire and attraction feel like,” you told her without looking her in those expectant eyes that unknowingly glimmered at your revelation.

“Lust,” Wanda said simply. “One of the hardest sins to resist when it affects one so physically.”

“Surely it can’t be bad if it’s natural,” you pointed out. That was not the response the brunette wanted to hear.

“It is not natural,” Wanda said so quickly that she had to take a moment to recollect herself as you looked at her with shock as you took in that momentary crack in her exterior. It was interesting to watch and you wondered why it had hit a nerve. Surely you weren’t the only one to come into her office and state the fact.

“Y/n,” she called slowly. “If lust comes to you while you are here, you must come and tell me,” she told you seriously. Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t be doing that. You agreed obediently anyway.

“Good,” she smiled again. “Now, is there anyone you currently feel ungodly towards?”

“The same girl,” you admitted sheepishly. Yes, you had had a variety of other minor crushes in the past couple years, but she always managed to fill you with that teasing anxiety that never fully manifested when she said hi to you.

Wanda raised her brows indiscreetly. “I hope you will soon be able to give that same loyalty to god,” she said. You didn’t give her a response, unsure of what to say when you had no intention of doing such a thing. “In time,” she added when she saw your hesitation.

“Maybe,” you muttered, meeting her half way. “Won’t he love me regardless?” You painted the question with an air of innocence that anyone else would have fallen for. But Wanda saw beyond that and knew you used the faux front purely to challenge her again. She was impressed.

“Of course,” she told you gently. “Always.”

You thought you were being subtle with the way you kept glancing over at the couple. It was breakfast time so there was a general murmur of conversation that you didn’t feel particularly pressed to join in with. All it did was teach you to avoid sitting with the group you had found yourself with again because they seemed to be the only students there who were actively participating in the conversion with the belief it would ‘fix them’. You pitied them in a way, but not enough to interfere with their ramblings about their opposite sex celebrity crushes.

Wanda caught your eye on one of the many times you had peered over. Vision was talking to her but apparently she was as distracted from her company as you were, more fixed on returning your gaze. The corner of her lip twitched when you realised you’d been caught and you swiftly looked away to stare down at your cereal, actively keeping your wandering gaze on the other side of the room for the rest of the meal.

“So what did you do to end up here?” A curly haired boy asked as he strolled into the kitchen you occupied alone. He was swinging a tea towel in his hands as he joined you and started on drying the washing up you had started.

“Got caught making out with the pastor’s daughter,” you said stoically.

“You’re fucking with me,” he grinned and your composure cracked.

“Yeah, but it’s much cooler than the truth,” you told him honestly as he jumped up onto the counter.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad. My grandma walked in on me with my dick down my best friend’s ass,” he told you and you couldn’t stop the laugh that rose promptly. You grinned at the boy next to you in disbelief, thankful that your own luck wasn’t that bad. “Your turn,” he prompted.

“I told my best friend that I like girls. She told my parents,” you said humorously, as though it didn’t hurt like a bitch just to remember.

“I think I have better mates than you,” he concluded. You didn’t argue with that. “I’m James.”

“Y/n,” you replied. “How long have you been here?”

“Four months.”

“What?” You splashed some water over the floor when your hand slipped in shock and James yelped when some drops hit him then started chuckling at the look you were giving him.

“What? Did you think it was only going to last a couple weeks?”

“Kinda, yeah,” you muttered as you returned your attention to your chore. “Do you think you’ll be out soon?”

“Nah, they know I’m bullshitting them. We all are, of course, but some of them can trick themselves into believing it, which is good enough for Vision.”

“Yeah, I know Wanda sees right through me,” you told him. “Which by the way, that makes no sense right?”

“I reckon he’s holding her family captive,” James stated simply. You laughed with him easily, glad you had found someone like minded to you. “Hey, do you wanna get high?”

The nimble threads at the bottom of your uniformed cardigan were multiplying as your stay at the camp went by. Your fingers frequently found their way to them when you were uncomfortable, which was more often than not, and pulled at the finer threads until you unintentionally collected a small bundle in the palm of your hands that you had to hide. Vision never commented on it, but Wanda did, telling you that it represented your impulse to repress your femininity or some bullshit like that.

You left the threads alone and laced your hands together in your lap when she gave you a pointed look from her office chair and you muttered an apology.

“I’ve noticed you and James have become quite close,” she commented. “I must admit I was hoping you would find better company in some of the other students here. James doesn’t provide the best example to follow,” she told you.

“We’re just friends,” you shrugged, slightly irked that the older woman had a problem with the one refuge you had been able to find in the camp.

“Are you friends with anyone else here?” She questioned, not yet providing you the warm smile she offered every time you stepped into her office or saw her in general. She didn’t look happy that day. She looked troubled but you didn’t believe that was solely down to your decision to spend time with James.

“Not yet,” you told her even though you weren’t planning on expanding your social circle. Though if it was only two people it must be more of a line. Still, adding that unfulfilled optimism was meant to appease Wanda. You should have expected her to see it for what it really was.

“What do you and James talk about?” She wasn’t going to let it go.

“Our lives, I guess,” you shrugged.

“Your experiences,” Wanda said for you. You knew there was no point in denying that when your glance towards her told her all she needed to know.

“Sometimes.”

“You should only discuss those topics with myself or Vision, otherwise you may end up having those experiences affirmed and encouraged,” she explained pointedly. You nodded uncomfortably as your fingers found their ways to your threads again only to snap back in place when you felt Wanda’s eyes momentarily burn into you. Something was very different with her. “So tell me what you discussed,” she pushed.

“I told him how much I dislike kissing boys,” you told her matter of factly as you tried to suppress your rising irritation. Maybe it was her job, but you hated her need to know everything you and James did.

“And you want to kiss girls instead?”

“I want to do a lot of things with them,” you laid on the innocence thick, playing your role as the good christian who was simply admitting to how she had been led astray and just wanted to atone for her sins. As always, Wanda saw through your facade though that time it made her tick. You knew exactly what you were doing, you just had no idea the effect it was having on the older woman. You had no idea that your insistence on pretending to be good while knowing you were bad stirred something in her that she wasn’t supposed to feel. You were pushing those sinful desires that had infiltrated your mind right into her own and she wouldn’t allow it.

“That’s all for today,” she declared without giving a response to your statement. It hadn’t even been your full session time, maybe more like half of it.

“Okay,” you said slowly as you stood up.

“I suggest you spend the rest of your evening with your roommate today,” she told you as you lingered in the doorway.

“Right, bye,” you bid awkwardly, frowning to yourself as you walked away.

The moment the door closed Wanda sighed heavily and leant back in her chair, catching sight of the framed photo of herself and Vision when they went on a hiking holiday in Colorado. The both beamed at the camera as they held each other close, though Wanda’s love for her husband had been as dim as it was in the present. But it was what god wanted. What god certainly didn’t want was for Wanda to allow her mind to wander to you in the way it had during that session when you had been taunting her with that faux naivety that everyone else seemed to fall for.

She had such hope for you when she first met you. But the images you had put in her head of her hand disappearing beneath your skirt as her lips clashed with yours, pinning you down to that very couch you perched on, that was something that could not be allowed to flourish, no matter how it made her throb between her legs. Wanda forced herself to stare at her husband’s image and remember when he used to make her feel that way, but those memories of his breathless features beneath her were replaced with your own and suddenly she couldn’t help but ponder what your sweet moans would sound like next to her ear as her fingers dipped inside-

“Lord help me,” Wanda called, but he never came.

You and Wanda both faced your own new challenges as the weeks went by. For you, your only refuge was gone. James had been sent back home randomly one night after an incident that no one would discuss with you. You had written your numbers on pieces of paper before that night, but it had disappeared as mysteriously as James had and gave you an equally chilling feeling. You had no idea what was going to happen to him when he arrived home without the results he had been sent away to achieve. Would they send him somewhere else? Somewhere worse? The only thing you could do was try not to end up like him.

Unfortunately, Wanda knew that nothing had changed within you. You continued to try and fool her with your illusion of innocence, reciting what Vision had taught you, socialising with the committed students and answering her questions in the way she wanted to hear rather than the truth. Little did you know that your efforts to quicken your release from the camp were futile, because Wanda simply didn’t want you gone yet. You were fighting a losing battle, just as she was.

As much as she despised to acknowledge it, the brunette fought her own desires as much as you did. It made her hate how much she was drawn to you. It made her ashamed of the acts she envisaged herself performing with you and how she just knew in her heart that you would so willingly part your legs for her. She wasn’t blind to your attraction to her, she had encountered it enough in her career to see it a mile away, no matter how discreet you thought you were being.

“I think I’m getting better,” you lied as you peered at Wanda cautiously.

“And what makes you say that?” The older woman inquired, humouring your plain fib.

“I don’t think about girls,” you said as you willed yourself not to look at Wanda’s long legs that were crossed eloquently.

“What do you think about?” You hadn’t been prepared for that.

“God?” Wrong. Obviously wrong. Wanda hummed and you knew that meant she didn’t buy it.

“Y/n, I want you to start being more honest with me.” You froze and didn’t dare look her in the eye. “I’m aware that you’re not progressing, so I think we should try something new. Just you and me.” You frowned and risked looking up to the confident woman, not having a clue of the excitement that manifested so secretly. “Are you familiar with penance?” You were, yet you had no idea where Wanda was going with it.

“There are many different forms. Some fast, some pray, some confess, but as we practise most of that here anyway, I want to try something else,” Wanda explained as she stood up from her chair and sauntered over to the desk in the corner of her office. You heard her rummaging around in the draws as a feeling of unease began to emerge in your chest. Rightfully so, because when Wanda turned back around, she held a riding crop firmly in her grasp.

“Stand up,” she instructed and you quickly did so as you eyed the tool in her hands. “Usually you would do this yourself, but I don’t believe you’re capable,” she explained lightly. “Hold out your hand.”

“Wanda,” you said as you kept your hand glued to your side. “I don’t want to.” Her features were deceivingly gentle as she listened to you.

“I don’t want to do this to you either, sweetheart. It’s just the only solution. So hold out your hand,” she repeated, gripping the crop so tight you could hear the leather stretch in her grasp. It unsettled you greatly.

“But it will hurt,” you objected, eyes wide. Wanda could have laughed at how oblivious you were to her intentions.

“It’s meant to,” she said simply and grabbed your wrist with a force that completely paralleled the softness of her tone.

“Wanda-” you tried to yank your hand back but you weren’t as strong as the brunette who only had to hold you with one hand while the other brought the crop down hard.

You cried out but Wanda used her grip on you to pull you flush against her chest, her features having turned ice cold. Her lips formed a straight line and her eyes pierced through your own with a sharpness that was usually dulled. The next words she uttered were void of that nurturing faith she used with everyone else and were replaced with something much darker. “If you keep struggling I’ll bend you over that desk and whip your ass instead.” You trembled against her, trying to decipher what your best bet was. When you took too long to decide, Wanda reached around and groped your ass, digging the crop in as she did so as though to make sure you knew she was serious. Your breath hitched as you found yourself completely trapped against the woman that squeezed you through your skirt. You whimpered, riling her up more until you nodded.

“Good,” Wanda exhaled, calming the heat she was struck with at the sight of your fearful eyes. “With every strike, you’re going to confess something you’ve lied about to me.” There were so many lies to choose from that when the first strike came, you struggled to pick one out. “Confess,” Wanda demanded, all of her patience suddenly absent.

“I don’t like boys, I like girls,” you admitted in a rush, refusing to look at Wanda or your burning hand that she struck again. “I’m not doing the work,” you continued. Wanda remained dissatisfied, striking your raw palm again and again as you admitted to your lies, none of which being what Wanda wanted to hear.

“I touch myself!” That was what she was looking for.

“Look at me,” Wanda instructed, examining the tear streaks down your cheeks as you whimpered. It was clear you were trying to appear strong and indifferent, but it was quickly becoming too much. The older woman cooed at you as dropped the crop to the couch behind you and took a hold of your inflamed hand, rubbing the abused hand with a tenderness that only made it burn more.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Her smile had grown sinister and you realised you were nowhere near done. “What thoughts do you touch yourself to?” Wanda questioned further, rubbing the most tender areas of your palm.

“Lying with a woman,” you hiccuped, hoping the harmless phrasing could somehow ease your next punishment.

“Who?” She pushed, gripping your chin roughly and forcing you to look straight ahead at her as you confessed what she already knew.

“You,” you whispered. Arousal rushed to the forefront of Wanda’s mind, and with it came anger. You weren't allowed to make her feel the way you did. She had a husband and she was a faithful Christian wife until you showed up and infected her mind with your own illness. You had to be put in your place.

In a blur, you were laying flat on the sofa you had lied continuously to Wanda on. You were barely given the chance to react before Wanda hiked her leg over your chest and straddled you with a purely feral look upon her face. You felt a strike of fear hit you, however you also weren’t blind to how attractive Wanda looked in her state of desperation. It may have been a desperation to reclaim control and to punish you for her own feelings, but it was hot nonetheless.

“You’ve been tempting me ever since you got here,” she hissed, feeling under her conservative skirt for a moment before she lifted it up around her waist. “This is your fault,” Wanda told you as you soaked in the view of her exposed pussy just inches from your face. You could smell her arousal and when she moved to lower herself onto your awaiting mouth, you eagerly grabbed at the back of her thighs until she slapped you away. “You don’t get to touch me with those filthy fingers, just let me use you.” Although you knew it was terribly wrong, you felt your own cunt heat up at her instructions. You knew that it was fucked up that the married woman wanted to get off on riding your mouth, but you wanted it so bad.

“Just like that,” Wanda sighed as you ran your tongue through her wet folds and sucked on them lightly, aiming to savour every drop and inch of her. “Put your tongue out,” she continued to demand. As soon as you did, Wanda began to vigorously grind her clit against your muscle, allowing your tastebuds to become ablaze with her as she cursed above you. You had never heard her swear before and knew she would scold anyone who muttered anything close, so knowing you could elicit such a reaction from her made your insides twist with pride.

She didn’t argue when you switched to sucking on her pulsing clit and felt it throb in your mouth. You moaned against her as her movements continued and her thighs locked around her head. It felt as though she really was using you for her own pleasure, not caring about your own or any comfort. You were the shameful bliss she was forbidden to engage with, but it felt incredible to ignore her god and use you as she wished. But she was really disobeying him, she was just teaching you a lesson. It wasn’t really sinning.

“Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop, you slut!” Wanda cried out as she became engulfed with the sensations you gave her. You had no intention of stopping as you shifted to pushing your tongue inside her. You were met by the tight squeeze of her walls and felt your own clench at the discovery she hadn’t had sex in a while. That explained why she was so sensitive too. Besides yourself, you smirked into the older woman and doubled your efforts.

It didn’t take long for Wanda to get close to the bliss she had become stranger to and you weren’t about to let her lose that. She knew her body, even after some time of depriving herself, and told you exactly what to do to get her there. “That’s it, that’s it,” she panted, head swimming as she erratically thrust herself onto her mouth and came with a sharp cry. You moaned against her, adamant on tasting your reward as Wanda trembled on top of you and eventually forced herself off when you didn’t stop. She wasn’t about to let greed overcome her.

You looked up at her with a hesitant smile that was apparently the last thing Wanda wanted to see. She glared at you and immediately lifted you up and spun you around so that you were leaning over the armrest on the sofa, not allowing you a second to object. “What-” you tried but she didn’t want to hear it.

“We’re not done,” she said without care as she lifted your own skirt over your back and yanked down your soaked underwear. She bit her lip at the sight of the wetness that stained them and threw them over to her desk for safe keeping, definitely not to sniff and use to get off later.

“Desperate whore,” she muttered to herself as she ran two fingers through your drenched lips. “You want to get fucked so bad? I’ll show you what it’s like to get fucked.” She let the threat loom over you as dipped her digits into you lightly, barely enough to stimulate you but enough for her to decipher how tight you were. Wanda groaned when she felt you clench in anticipation, desperate for any touch you would give her. At that, she let the remains of her self control slip away and thrust her fingers in at once. “So tight,” she commented as you clung onto the sofa, moaning at the feeling of her filling you up in the way you had dreamed ever since you first met the older woman.

“Wanda,” you whined when she spread her fingers out within you to push your walls.

“Shut up,” she hissed, refusing to listen to your pathetic pleas on the tip of your tongue. “Take it.” And you did. You bit into the couch to mute yourself as Wanda curled and thrust her fingers inside your wet cunt, mapping out every inch of you and pushing your body’s limits. She added a third finger without any consideration to your stifled whines.

Wanda, as she told herself, was only doing it to hurt you and punish you. You deserved it for sinning so openly in her home and for attempting to corrupt her. It wouldn’t work, she convinced herself, she wouldn’t succumb to your lust but she had to show you the right path. She had to make you ache. With that in mind, she added a fourth finger and pumped her fingers in wildly.

You cried out into the material you sunk your teeth into, feeling your pussy sting at the stretch Wanda was causing. Still, you continued to soak down to her palm. It just hurt so good. Too good for Wanda to allow, so she snuck her hand under your shirt and bra to take your nipples between her fingers and twist them cruelly. You whimpered at the unnecessary act, making Wanda grin triumphantly.

Despite the pain, it did little to distract you from the heat between your legs that was quickly growing out of control. Having stretched you out as much as she pleased, Wanda was able to thrust her fingers inside you without mercy, attacking every sensitive nerve until you became a mess on the sofa she was meant to therapise you on. “You going to cum for me, whore?” Wanda asked when she felt you twitch around her. You mumbled a yes you were lucky she heard. “You’re so pathetic like this, so weak to temptation,” she scolded you with a wicked smile you couldn’t see. “Cum for me.” That was all it took for your muscles to clench tightly around her and let go. You moaned like the whore she saw you as as you came, gripping onto the sofa for dear life as Wanda continued to ruthlessly pump her digits into your cunt.

“Too much,” you whined when she failed to stop. She didn’t listen. You came down from one orgasm and soon went tumbling into another when Wadna kept up her actions, making sure to drive her point home. You squirmed under her as your body became overstimulated but there was no room or strength for you to move away. “Please!” You begged as you bucked into her palm, unable to stop the contradicting action that served to amuse Wanda.

“So sensitive,” Wanda mused, coaxing you through another orgasm until she deemed that the message had gone through enough. You collapsed in a defeated heap as she stood up from the sofa and corrected her uniform as though you weren’t even there. You missed her taking her tainted digits into her mouth to appease her curiosity. Lord, she thought as she tasted your sweetness. She swiftly pushed away the impulse to keep you down and taste your sweetness directly from the source. She had to keep things professional after all.

“See me first thing in the morning,” she instructed, features still flushed with lingering lust. She had given into temptation and whether she liked it or not, she would indulge in you again. You weren’t going home anytime soon.

#marvel #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!marvel #scarlet witch

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togrowoldinv · 13 days ago

Text

The Retreat

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

When you go on a church retreat, you have a very interesting conversation with Wanda

Note: I have missed writing for this Wanda! Can’t get her out of my head lately. Y’all enjoy this one!

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, sad Wanda, oral and fingering (W receiving), age gap

Milf Wanda Masterlist, Main Masterlist

When you were asked to go on a women’s retreat, you immediately wanted to say no. The only reason you even go to church is to appease your parents. But it’s the final retreat of the year and you are expected to attend at least one.

So, you find yourself now waiting by the church bus to load up. You watch as mothers say goodbye to their children and wives kiss their husbands. One family in particular catches your eye.

The Maximoffs. Wanda, the matriarch, is a good friend of your mothers. They just moved to town a few years ago, but have made quite an impression in the town. Her husband travels for work, so Wanda is often found alone at the church service while her twin boys are in class for the children.

You wonder how a man could ever leave a woman like that alone. She is definitely the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. Some part of you has been attracted to her since you first laid eyes on her.

Wanda gets on the bus and sits a few seats from you. She gives you a small wave. You put in your headphones to try and drown out the world. The drive only lasts a few hours and soon you’re at the retreat.

You check in and get your room key. It doesn’t take long to figure out that you will have a roommate when you open the door and see there are two beds. You're praying it’s not one of the older ladies or someone in your peer group who you can’t stand.

The prayer is answered when the door latch opens and none other than the one and only Wanda Maximoff walks in.

“Well, hi y/n!” She says. “I didn’t know we were roommates.”

“Hey Mrs. Maximoff. I didn’t either.”

“Oh please call me Wanda. This weekend we are peers, sweetheart,” she says.

She puts her bags on the bed next to the window. Sitting on the bed, she looks around the room. Wanda spots an itinerary on the bedside table.

“Looks like a busy weekend,” she analyzes. “We should get going to the first session.”

“Oh, I was thinking I would just rest tonight,” you reply.

“Nonsense, y/n,” Wanda says. “You came all this way. You might as well try and enjoy it. I know you aren’t feeling the spirit these days, but let me try and do something about that, okay?”

Your pulse quickens. How can she see right through you? Maybe she’s just being nice. Or maybe it’s worse and your mother asked her to look out for you this weekend.

She stands and waits for you to join her. You sigh and follow Wanda out the door.

The first session goes better than you thought it would. At least the food was good and the middling company was made a little better by Wanda’s presence.

When you get back to the room, it is freezing cold in there. You notice Wanda shivering even in her sweatshirt and sweatpants she has on for bed. Still, you both try to go to sleep for the night.

At some point though, you get a feeling someone is watching you while you sleep. Or more accurately, as you try to sleep in the arctic environment. Your eyes flutter open to see Wanda sitting up in her bed.

“What time is it?” You ask her.

“Early,” Wanda replies. Her voice is gravely, and if you think about it too much you might even be turned on by it.

“Are you cold?”

She nods. “The heat isn’t working. I tried, but can’t fix it.”

You roll out of bed and walk to the thermostat on the wall. Wanda follows you and stands close behind you. You can hear her breathing as you investigate the issue.

“Can you fix it?” She asks.

“Unfortunately, I cannot,” you reply. Wanda sighs.

You turn around and Wanda is still very close to you.

“We have one option here,” she begins. “To sleep together.”

“Oh,” you mumble. “We- um-”

“We could snuggle and then our body heat will keep us warmer,” Wanda further explains. “What do you say?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Wanda says.

She leads the way to your bed hoping since it’s the one away from the window it’ll be a little bit warmer. Wanda crawls into the bed and pulls the covers down. She waits for you to join her. You get into the bed cautiously, keeping a little distance between you two.

“Come on closer, baby. I don’t bite,” Wanda says. She grins at herself.

You get closer to her and she wraps an arm around your waist. You drape one of your arms across the pillow and she positions herself with her head between your neck and shoulder. Admittedly, it is warmer with the two of you snuggling together.

Eventually, you both fall into a deep sleep and the snuggling becomes more relaxed. It feels natural when the two of you wake up in the morning still intertwined.

“Good morning,” you say softly, trying not to get lost in her green eyes.

“Good morning,” Wanda says. Her face is close to yours. You can practically see every detail of her perfect face. “We should get ready for the day.”

“Right,” you say, breaking out of your trance. “Of course.”

You two break apart and you miss her warmth already. When you two show up at breakfast, several people are already in the room.

“Wanda! Y/n! Join our table!” The leader of the women’s group calls you both over. “How did you two sleep?”

“Quite well,” Wanda replies. “It was cold, but we made do.”

“Oh, we can have someone look at your heat,” the leader replies.

“Thanks that would be-” you start, but are interrupted.

“That’s alright,” Wanda says, placing a hand on your forearm. “We are okay.”

It's a strange response, but you try not to read into it. She probably just doesn’t want to cause any trouble. The breakfast lecturer starts soon and your attention shifts.

At the end of the day, you and Wanda find yourselves sitting in your room once again. Dinner isn’t for another hour, so you are just waiting around.

“Should we work on our exercises?” Wanda asks, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“The vulnerability exercises we talked about today in the final session,” Wanda explains.

“Oh, sure.”

Wanda smiles. She sits on the edge of her bed and pats the spot next to her.

“I’ll go first,” she says.

“Remind me of the rules,” you ask.

“We reveal something to each other that no one else knows. So that we can release it and let the weight go.”

You nod. You have no idea what Wanda might say. Her life seems perfect.

“Vision left me,” Wanda blurts out quickly.

“What?” You ask in shock. “Wanda, I- what happened?”

You hadn’t seen them interact much, but you never assumed that he wasn’t still in the picture. Just that he had been traveling.

Wanda looks down, playing with the ring on her finger. You can tell she’s holding back tears.

“Wanda, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I'm really sorry.”

“No, it might help if I do,” Wanda says. “Things just got bad. They went from okay, to maybe not so good, to fuck we’re over.”

Your eyes go wide. Never have you ever heard Wanda curse like that.

“How long ago was it over?”

“A few months,” Wanda says.

“And you haven’t told anyone?”

She shakes her head. “I just keep saying he’s away on business. The truth is he hasn’t touched me in almost a year.”

“So, that snuggling we did last night was?”

“The first time I’ve remotely been that close to someone in a year.”

“Jesus,” you mumble. She doesn’t even scold you for using the Lord’s name in vain. “Can I hug you?”

You figure she needs human connection now more than ever. She nods and you take Wanda in your arms. She melts against you. Tears fall down her face and soak into your shirt.

“It’s okay,” you whisper softly to her. “You’re okay, Wanda.”

“I’m not,” she says through sobs.

“You will be,” you reply. “I’m here for you. My parents are here for you. All of these stupid, annoying women here are on your side too, okay? We won’t let you fall.”

Wanda pulls away some and looks at you. You run your hand through her hair and brush your thumb against her cheek gently. She leans in just enough for you to know what’s about to happen.

“Wanda,” you say. She keeps moving forward. “Mrs. Maximoff.”

That makes her stop. She looks at you with confusion in her eyes.

“I just want you. Do you not want me, baby?” Wanda asks.

“Oh, of course I want you. I just haven’t done the exercise yet.”

“Oh?”

You take your other hand and pull her closer by her hip. Your lips are almost touching.

“My secret is that I really, really want to kiss you right now and fuck you until you forget about your loser ex-husband who never deserved you in the first place,” you say.

Wanda closes the gap between the two of you. Her lips move fervently against yours. You can tell she’s desperate.

“When’s the last time he kissed you like this?” You ask between kisses.

“Never,” she replies.

You smile into her mouth and move to push her back onto the bed. Her legs wrap around your waist as you pin her arms above her head.

“Fuck, Wanda, you are the most beautiful woman alive,” you tell her.

“We shouldn’t do this,” she says. It's her final effort at not letting herself feel as good as he deserves to feel. You move your hands off of her just briefly.

“We should do this, but I'll stop if you really don’t want this,” you tell her.

“No, I- we just can’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You put your hands back on her. This time, you go straight for the buttons of her jeans. You kiss down her chest and around her belly. Deftly, you pull down her pants and panties in one fell swoop.

Wanda shivers beneath the feeling of your wet lips against her hips and as you brush your nose lightly against her core.

“Oh, god, y/n,” she whimpers.

“So wet for me, Wanda,” you say. You dive into her core with your tongue. Her folds are intoxicating as you bring her more pleasure than she’s ever felt in her life.

“I need you,” Wanda says. “Please, baby. Please!”

You take Wanda’s clit in your mouth and move your fingers into her in tandem. She is writhing beneath your touch.

“Come for me, Mrs. Maximoff,” you say as you feel her reaching her climax.

“Fuck!” Wanda comes hard against you.

You lick her as she comes down and move up her body slowly. You lie next to her and kiss her cheek softly. The juxtaposition of that soft kiss and what you were just doing between her legs makes her heart flutter.

“Are you okay?” You ask her. She is staring at the ceiling.

“Yes,” she replies. “Thank you for everything.”

“Anytime Wanda,” you say. You ignore the ache between your legs, knowing Wanda needs time to process this. “Should we go to dinner?”

“Oh, I guess so,” she says.

You sit up, but Wanda grabs your arm before you can stand.

“I want to fuck you later, okay?” Wanda says. “I just-”

“Need a minute,” you finish for her.

“Yeah. Thanks for understanding, sweetheart. It’ll be worth the wait I promise.”

Wanda kisses you deeply before she gets off the bed to get cleaned up. You watch as she walks with a new bounce in her step that she didn’t have before.

Maybe this retreat will be interesting after all.

#milf!wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff

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pearlymel · 15 days ago

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☆ cw. mdni, fem!reader, fluffy smut, talks of having children, established relationship.

Zayne Always admired that look on your face whenever he would start making love to you.

Your messed up hair that no matter how much he tried smoothening it out with his fingers, it would end up even messier, your swollen parted glossy lips, and half-lidded awaiting eyes.

Zayne doesn't really know when he became fond of you. Perhaps it was when he first met you all those years ago, when you two were kids. Maybe it was when he found you passed out under a tree during a storm.

But ever since he realized his feelings for you all he could think about was making sure you don't get hurt. He's not sure if he's been doing a good job with that. Especially when you're asking for another round after he just wrecked your pussy from the long hours at the hospital, could you really blame him?

As if you could read his mind, you whisper "you're doing well, dearest."

"I should be the one reassuring you, love." He chuckled as he pressed a kiss on your forehead. He's quite glad you're in his arms. There are days where his work takes a toll on him more than usual.

He knows sometimes you're able and willing to go another round since you're quite greedy to keep the feeling going, he'd always make sure to stop you. You can be a little too impatient sometimes, it makes his cheeks flush a rosy pink as he rubbed the tip of his re-hardend flushed length against your slit, coating himself in your slick.

And there's your gasp and arch of your back once he pushed in with a slow, deliberate thrust, filling you all at once, like your cunt was swallowing him in that it never misses to make him dizzy.

His right hand traces along your left arm until it reached your hand to enclose your fingers together, where he could feel your wedding ring on his skin. with that, Zayne starts to move, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm. He sets a gentle pace, focusing on long, deep strokes that aim to please rather than overwhelm as your lips find his into a messy, open-mouthed kiss, your tongues tangling lazily.

He angles his hips, hitting that spongy spot inside you that never fails to make you whimper and squirm underneath him. He reaches his free hand down between your bodies to find your clit, and he rubs slow, tight circles around the sensitive bud, matching the rhythm of his thrusts and your hand squeezes his so hard, signalling your pending orgasm.

Zayne can feel his own release building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, he redoubles his efforts, his fingers working on your clit faster as his cock starts pounding into harder, deeper for your pleasures. Your fluttering walls responds with a tight clench around his cock until your eyes are rolling back.

"Zayne," you pant his name softly like a prayer to his ear, your fingertips brushing over his shoulder to his cheek, "do you ever.. ever want to have a baby—"

The question catches him off guard. It's not that the thought of having kids with you doesn't excite him. Quite the opposite. You've both been married for a while, and he's quite keen on the idea.

"Haaah—" So keen that that it makes him cum right on the spot, he buries himself to the hilt inside, he groans low and long, his cock pulsing as he spills his seed into your awaiting womb in hot, thick spurts.

You're both silent in eachother's embrace for a while before he pulls out, you watch his every move without a word, from him cleaning you up to joining you back in bed so he could hold you close.

"You didn't answer me." You poke your question at him, and he raises an amused eyebrow, ".. the thought of having kids with you crosses my mind everytime i see you play with them." He answers you with passion, your heart skips a beat.

"... I think a copy of you and i would be cute." The idea of having a child that's a mix of both him and you being cute was something he also thought many times before. "Is that the only reason you want a kid?" He teased lowly, his hand moving to caress your nape now.

"Well you'd be a great father," you say it as if it's the obvious, and Zayne's smile grows wider as your statement, he couldn't help but feel happy hearing you think of him as a father.

The thought of you, carrying his child was quite appealing to him. He's quite sure he'd pamper you and take care of you ten times more than before.

"Do you really think so?" He asks as he watches you blink sleepily, "of course.. you're attentive, caring, loving, plus a doctor."

"And you think those will make me a great father?" His hand moves further down from your nape, it's now resting on the top of your hip, grabbing it lightly. Zayne's thumb continues to trace the skin of your hip in a soft manner. "How about you? Would you be a good mother?" He asks genuinely.

You're hesitant, "i don't think so."

"Why not?"

"..."

"I think you'll be an amazing mother, you just don't know it yet." Zayne softly pecks your cheek, and you blink slowly at the kiss.

Sometimes even he wonders why you can't see yourself the same way he does. He's sure if you were to give birth to his child, you'd instantly be in love with the little baby in your hands.

"you're so easy to love." You murmur, and his eyebrows furrow, "i mean.. anyone could fall for you because of your loveable nature." You peck at the corner of his lips this time.

Zayne's response is silent as he's still bewildered by what you said. He's never considered himself to be someone that would make a woman fall madly in love with him, when all he's ever thought of loving was that one person he's known all his life, in every universe.

"Don't think about it so much," you look down at him from your side in this still night, with your arms moving to cage him in close, "I love you."

He's quite lucky to have someone like you in his life, you're too sweet and kind with your words. He's always known that.

He stares at you quietly for a moment before responding. "I love you, so much."

You both retire for the night, with your heart's content knowing there still is a long way to your marriage.

#love and deepspace #zayne #lads zayne #lads smut #zayne smut #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #dr zayne x reader #zayne x reader #zayne x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader

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dj-of-the-coven · 5 months ago

Text

trigun 1998 episode simulator

[3 minutes of guitar solo]

Vash the Stampede: hi my name is Vash the Stampede. I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Love. all I really want to do is have a sandwich and a morning coffee without getting chased by bandits

some bandit: (gunshot) absolutely not. square up faggot

Vash: rats.

[gunfight]

Vash the Stampede: my name is Vash the stampede. I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Love.could I please have a sandwich

Meryl from the Bernardelli Insurace Society: how long are you going to sit on your ass doing nothing but playing games with children and doing chores for the elderly and disabled and looking after lonely youths and cooking dinner for the homeless

Vash: I've been here for like 2 days

Milly Thompson: Hi Vash!

Vash: Hi Milly

[exit left pursued by bounty hunters]

Vash the Stampede: (panting, entering a bar) my name is Vash the stampede.... I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Good L*rd what is going on in here

Hostage: mphdsfhapff!!!! mffmpphhf!!!!

Villain of the week: well if it isn't the elusive Vash the Stampede! you see it all started when I was 4 days old and you kicked me like a football and then exploded my parents to death with a laser canon and killed every puppy in a ten ile (translator's note: this is the No Man's Land equivalent of the American Mile) radius

Vash: I don't remember doing that but well I suppose you can shoot me if it'll make you feel better

Side character of the week: Are you insane? Just shoot him instead???

Vash: but my mom told me not to be mean to people

Villain of the week: (still going) And as I am now 47 years old I have finally decided to get my revenge. Say your prayers, Vash the Pisshead

[Wall explodes and reveals a motorcycle with a sexy priest on it]

[sfx: guitar with a hint of electric distortion]

Vash: is that..... Wolfwood?

Meryl who was in the background this whole time: the priest?

Nicholas Dickolas Wolfwood: (brings his fingers up to a pair of luscious lips to grab the cigarette from right between them, taking one more slow inhale before crushing the cherry red underneath his heel)(sensually cocks one of his 8 guns) Are you just gonna let this guy talk down to you like that needle noggin?

Vash: I g-

[guitar riff bumper]

Vash: -uess not, since you're here to help now... (slow, warm smile) Wolfwood

Nicholas D. ranged Wolfwood: Vash

Milly who was also in the background this whole time: Hi mr priest man! isn't this lovely, I haven't seen you since the last time you spoke with mr Vash yesterday evening when you were helping him buckle all those silly belts on his pants after he had lost them somehow

Vash: On a cactus

Milly: On a cactus! Oh it must've hurt so terribly; how fortunate that Mr Priest man was there to help you

Wolfwood: Hi Milly

[gunfight]

Villain of the week: ohhhhh curses!!! CURSES!!!! I have spent my whole existence getting ready to fight Vash the Stampede but he's just too good at swallowing all my bullets!!!!!!

Vash the Stampede: my tragic dead mother would be sad if I didn't swallow everyone's bullets so I've trained diligently every morning at digesting gunpowder without dying immediately

Wolfwood: [internally: I can't believe it. All this time I've spent walking the path of darkness, reaching to a pure light that I could never grasp, and yet here is a man who's dedicated his life and his body to the pursuit of Peace. I wish he were a woman so I could fuck him romantic style. I've got a whole plan for it and everything. Whiskey, sunset, a bed with no sand in it, 6 hours. This would be fully and completely possible if only he were a woman. Unfortunately he's not, but I can still think about the what-ifs. platonically of course. Maybe if he got some good dick he'd stop being so annoying. And maybe he'd stop making me rethink my morals. I wonder if the seven drunken handies meant anything to him. Platonically]

Wolfwood: Well anyway it looks like my job is done here

Vash: (teary) Will I see you again?

Wolfwood: I don't know. And besides, whenever I look at you, I'm reminded of everything I hate about myself. You know, it hurts.

[exit Nicholas D. Wolfwood pursued by repressed homosexual desires and immense catholic guilt]

Vash the Stanned Peat: (looking out the window like a widow whose husband was killed in action) Nicholas... D... Wolfwood.......

Meryl who was in the background that entire time, yes, the whole time: shut the fuck up already

Vash: when will it be my turn Meryl. When

[roll credits]

#trigun 98 #vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #milly thompson #meryl stryfe

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entitled-fangirl · 3 months ago

Text

In the Godswood.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT 18+ PLEASE

Summary: the reader has never prayed in the Godswood before. Cregan tried to show her how but gets distracted. Surely the gods won’t mind.

Warnings: p in v, oral (f receiving), sweet talkkkkk, talks of having children, tears from overstimulation

Masterlist

………………………………………

"And this is the weir wood tree," Cregan commented.

His wife looked around. "It's quite beautiful."

He nodded. "Aye." He paused for a moment, "Fancy a prayer?"

"Oh." She flushed, "I've never… I… I dunno what to do."

He smiled brightly, "Truly? Well, it's actually quite easy." He reached out and grabbed her hand, "I'll show you."

…

The two had kneeled in front of the weir wood tree, in the midst of prayer.

His eyes opened, staring at the ground in front of him. His mind froze in thought and yet, was not frozen at all.

His head turned to look at her. Her eyes were still closed, seemingly deep in prayer. A crease in her brow from the pure concentration on her face.

He grinned and leaned over to her. A hand brushed the hair from her face and over her shoulder and he pressed a deep kiss to her neck.

Her lips parted and a heavy breath left her lungs, her head tilted to give him more access.

When the next one was placed at her jaw, she let out a soft moan before her eyes opened and she turned to him in shock.

He pulled her to him suddenly and connected their lips, his lust evident in his movements.

She could feel her self resolve give in, but she had to stop herself for just a minute. She pulled back, "We can't. Not here."

He leaned to catch her lips again, and she pulled back further in confusion, "Cregan. We can't…. Can we?"

He grinned against her lips, his voice a mere whisper, "What better place than in front of my gods?"

She studied him in shock, trying to decide if he was being serious.

The next kiss was gentle, a mere brush that pulled her in and she found herself being the one to lean in this time.

He chuckled, "Is that something I may do?"

"Is," she looked around, "Is that not disrespectful?"

"To show the gods the love I hold for my wife? If anything, I believe they'll bless us."

"Bless us?" She whispered.

"Perhaps a child, my love."

Her hands came up to cradle his face apprehensively, "You truly believe so?"

He shrugged playfully, "Only time will tell."

Her hands pulled his face to her and a torturous kiss was placed on Cregan's lips.

As if all self resolved had melted between them.

His hands moved to her waist and he pulled her body into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

His lips quickly moved down her jaw again.

"Cregan," she whispered.

"I know."

He reached up with one hand and untied his cloak with ease. He pulled it from his shoulders and threw it behind her, quickly getting up on his knees and laying her onto the fabric gently. "Can't have my girl dirtying her pretty dress, can I?" He teased against her jaw.

She grinned as his body laid atop of her, "Don't tease me, Stark."

A chuckle grumbled from deep in his chest. "I never plan to leave you wanting, sweet girl."

Their lips connected again, the heat collecting between the two.

One of his hands moved to her back, pulling her up just enough to fiddle with the ties of her dress, beginning to untie them.

"What if the child is not a boy, Cregan?" She whispered, as if the thought had only just crossed her mind at this point.

He pulled his lips away, but his hand continued its work on her back, "What of it?"

Her brows pulled together, "Will you not be disappointed? For a daughter?"

He couldn't stop the small smile that came across his face, "What a ridiculous question, my girl."

He pulled her dress down one shoulder, moving back to her lips. His tongue darted out to her bottom lip, groaning when she accepted him.

Her hands reached up and pulled at his clothing, untying the strings of his tunic and pulling it over his head.

"Are you sure of all this?" He asked one last time, his eyes studying her carefully for any signs of uncertainty.

She nodded fervently, "Please don't make me wait longer, Cregan."

He let out a groan at her words and pulled her shift up to her hips. His large hands pulled her thighs upwards and he lowered his face between them, admiring the sight before him.

He blew softly at her most sensitive parts, grabbing her hips quickly when she immediately reacted.

"That alright?" He whispered.

She took in a sharp breath, "More than… more than so but…" She pushed herself up onto her elbows to look at him. "Cregan, this won't make a child. You know that."

He grinned, "I know. We'll get there when we get there, my girl."

One hand gently reached up and pushed her shoulders back down onto the cloak.

She stared up at the branches of the North's most holy tree, beyond that, a cloudy gray sky. But her thoughts were cut short when his nose brushed against her clit. She let out a whine and bucked her hips up, Cregan quickly catching her hips again. He locked his arms around her thighs to keep her in place.

"You have to tell me if it's too much, got it?" He mumbled, his breath falling over her slit.

She nodded, closing her eyes as she tried to steady her breathing.

"I need your words, pretty."

She whined and nodded again, "Y… yes. Yes, Cregan. I will."

She prayed to the gods that no one was in the Godswood when Cregan's tongue began to lick fervently at her slit. Otherwise, they'd have heard her loud moans and whines for miles.

…

"More. More, please," she grunted with her eyes shut tightly.

Cregan's hips stopped, "I should take it slower with you."

"NO! No," she cried. "I can do it. Please."

He shook his head, "I didn't even prepare you properly."

"Cregan, just move, please!"

He kissed her cheek softly, "Alright. Easy does it."

Her hands disappear into his hair, tugging at it.

"Please… you feel so good," she cried.

"Look at me," he whispered.

She groaned, unable to.

"Look at me, please," he tried again as he thrust back in.

When she didn't respond again, he tried one last time, "Open those pretty eyes. Let me see them."

Her eyes met his, tears running down her cheeks.

When his brows furrowed, she shook her head, "Don't stop. Don't stop… please…. Please."

He continued his effort, leaning down to kiss her lightly, "Sure?"

"You feel so good, Cregan..."

"I love you, my wife."

She pushed herself up, kissing him deeply.

…

She didn't have her moon blood for the next few months.

Seems the gods did bless them.

……………………………………

Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest

#fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x y/n #cregan stark x reader #game of thrones imagine #cregan stark x you #house of the dragon #cregan stark #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark smut #cregan x reader #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x female reader

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bumblesimagines · 5 months ago

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Prayer

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader Summary: Alicent finds herself unable to escape her desire for a new face in court.

AHEM.

~~~

Her long, forest-green gown dragged along the cold floor, picking up the dust-caked along the stones. Her hands remained curled around each other in front of her, her head held high as she approached her typical prayer area. Those in the sept bowed to her and scurried away once she passed them, for the last thing they wanted was to disrupt the Dowager Queen's prayer time. It reminded her of the loneliness that plagued her, looming over her like a dark storm cloud. She'd been a lonely child, a lonely mother, a lonely queen. Nobody truly understood her, nor did they bother trying.

With a soft sigh, she carefully lowered herself down onto her knees and lit one of the many candles, careful not to get hot wax on herself or the sleeve of her gown. Alicent swallowed and spared a glance around her. Ser Criston and another knight stood by the entrance where she'd entered and two handmaidens lingered by them. Enough distance for her to speak of her sins without worry of rumors spreading. Alicent turned back to the candles and stared at the flames, her fingers lacing together.

Alicent had many things to feel guilty about; her unsalvageable friendship with Rhaenyra, her crumbling relationship with her own children, the pain in which her husband had been in for much time before passing, the self-pity that filled her veins whenever she looked upon her daughter. She thought about it all constantly. But the thing that'd led her to seek out the Seven that day... had not been among the things she truly felt guilty about. Sure, there'd been a prickle of guilt, but primarily felt because of her husband who hadn't passed that long ago.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she bowed her head, whispering her apologies into the quiet, chilly air filling the sept. She apologized to Rhaenyra for failing her, to her children for being thrusted into duty before they could mourn their father, and to Viserys for not being there in his final moments. But her voice faltered when she thought of him. Her fingers squeezed tightly around each other as heat enveloped her face and traveled down the rest of her body, making her itch for a quick return to the castle so she could plunge herself in a bath.

The Small Council's newest Master of Ships: (Y/N) Roxton, younger brother to Jon Roxton the Bold. Alicent had been uneasy the day he'd arrived at King's Landing with his devilish eyes and smirky mouth but Aegon had been delighted with him when they met, cementing his spot amongst the council despite merely being a few years older than Aegon and by far the youngest council member they'd thus yet had. Alicent attempted to keep her worries in check but they soon soothed when (Y/N) proved to be rather well-mannered despite the bloody reputation he and his brother had garnered throughout the years, although his youth showed through his flirtatious nature.

Alicent found the attention pleasing, surprisingly enough. Her father had deprived her of the chance of a love-filled marriage and King Viserys had hardly given her the attention she would've wanted from a husband as he only paid her attention to fulfil his own desires. She enjoyed the flirting, even if she dismissed him with shakes of her head or gentle scolding, but the smile that toyed on her lips only led him to continue. Dreams plagued her sleep and bitter jealousy began filling her veins whenever she noticed him flirting with someone else.

Her eyes snapped open and she inhaled sharply, the heavy scent of smoke and incense filling her senses. Despite how badly she fought against the thoughts circulating her mind. She was a devoted woman of the Seven who ought to still be mourning her husband instead of thinking of such impurities. Alicent rose unsteadily to her feet and turned swiftly, retreating from the sept and toward the awaiting carriage. She refused to meet the eyes of her handmaidens as they returned to the castle and ignored Ser Criston's questioning stare when she entered the castle and moved down the halls until she stopped before the doors to his bedchambers.

"(Y/N) and I will be discussing some pressing matters at hand, Ser Criston. I do not wish to be interrupted." She told her Sworn Shield. Ser Criston's lips pressed into a thin line, head bobbing in a small nod before he opened the door, letting her step inside before shutting it and standing guard outside.

(Y/N) lifted his gaze from a letter in hand, nursing a cup of wine in the other. "Your Grace," His lips curled pleasantly. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

"I must... speak with you about... things."

"Things? There are many things we could speak of, Your Grace. You'll have to be more specific." (Y/N) grinned at her and a heat bubbled in her stomach. She cleared her throat and strode across the room, managing to keep her composure under his piercing stare. Her eyes slid around the tidy room, the only sign of mess coming in the form of a table with papers scattered across it. Plans for new ships and other things Alicent had little interest in.

"I believe you know." She spoke gently once she stopped at his side, trailing her stare away from the papers and raising it to look at him. He huffed a quiet laugh and finished what was left of his wine, his lips darting out to swipe over his lips. (Y/N) raised his hand toward her face, calloused fingers brushing over the soft skin of her cheek. His knuckles bumped against her earring, fingers dipping slightly into her auburn hair and curling, palm pressed to her cheek.

There was a sweet warmth to his touch that had Alicent leaning into his hand, relishing the idea of being touched so gently for the first time in a long while. Her eyes fluttered shut when his head leaned toward hers, their lips locking together and sending a jolt down her spine. Her hands raised, planting themselves against his chest and curling around the fabric to pull him closer. She sighed softly against the kiss, her parted lips giving him leeway to explore uncharted territory. Her skin flushed immediately, only pulling away to release a soft gasp and take in some air when he effortlessly raised her up and onto the table.

She felt giddy again, pleased as she used to be back when she and Rhaenyra would spend every waking moment together. Her heart hammered in her chest, both nervous and thrilled. Finally, she could take matters into her own hands. Finally, she could choose who she wanted to be with without someone else deciding for her. Alicent gently pulled him back in, rolling her eyes at the snicker he released before pressing their lips together again. His fingers balled up the fabric of her skirt and tugged it upwards past her knees until it pooled at her lap. The cool air nipped at the exposed skin and Alicent resisted the instinct to tug the fabric back down, her mind drifting elsewhere when his hand grasped the flesh of her thighs and squeezed.

"How long until someone requires our presence?" He murmured against her.

"We have plenty of time."

So there Alicent remained in his bedchambers; Ser Criston stationed outside dismissing any maids and such who wished to enter for whatever reason.

Much time had passed, nearly a full hour, but there she remained, her long loose curls sticking to her glistening, sweat-covered skin. Her dress had long been abandoned on the floor by the bed, discarded rapidly before it could be torn to shreds. His arms were wrapped loosely around her waist, keeping her flush against his bare chest and pressed down on his lap. Her nails dug into his shoulder, her hazy mind attempting to catch up while her body recovered, her hips and sticky thighs aching.

She'd have to drink moon tea, the rational part of her realized, but she merely slumped against him.

A breathy squeak escaped her when he moved them, her back meeting the silk sheets beneath. He chuckled into her throat, teeth dragging lightly across her skin and making her shudder against him. (Y/N) leaned back with a twinkle in his eye. "I'm not finished with you yet, My Queen."

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x male reader #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon x y/n #alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower x male reader #alicent hightower x y/n #Alicent Hightower x you

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