#even the way she's sitting so straight-backed and serene there

[wackus-bonkus-maximus]

NO WAY YOU MADE ART FOR ORISON?????!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

painted this post after seeing @wackus-bonkus-maximus tag it with ladrien

close up

[kthologue]

how i met your mother  — gojo satoru

contents. fluff, meet ugly, established relationship, highschool!gojo in flashback, gojo just loves his wife and everyone is sick of it

notes. this is apart of my indulge me series but everything can be read as a standalone!

“you forgot to give me a kiss this morning,” your husband pouts from your lap before puckering his lips out, “i’ll need a thousand more to compensate!” 

just a couple meters away from you, paper crinkles harshly as nanami, your fellow colleague, flips the page on the newspaper he’s reading. you hear a heavy sigh leave his lips.  “i missed it when you both hated each other,” he readjusts his glasses with one hand tiredly. he’s disappointed, but not surprised with satoru’s behavior.

this comment causes itadori, who happened to be hanging out in the teacher’s lounge to perk up.

“gojo-sensei and gojo-san hated each other?” he sits up straight on the couch. the pink haired boy looks between you and satoru, who is purring happily as you play with his hair. “i can’t imagine that..” he mumbles quietly. he was, unfortunately, a first hand witness of gojo’s love for you.

the white haired male that was comfortably nestled in your lap looks up at you, “ah! she tried so hard to resist my charms, but this handsome face won in the end!” his loud boast leads you to cover his mouth with the palm of your hand.

“that couldn’t be farther from the truth,” you press your palm harder against his mouth, determined to silence his protests. 

nanami easily ignores his senior’s muffled whines while itadori looks at his sensei in pity. marriage must be tough, he thinks.

you only lift your hand off of his mouth with a shriek when satoru decides to lick your palm. he smirks proudly at himself causing the other two males in the room to grimace at the strange display of affection. 

“darling, you hated me?” his eyes blink up at you innocently, blue eyes on full display. you purse your lips together, resisting whatever game he was playing at. from the moment you stepped into the lounge with him, he insisted on taking his blindfold off. he argues that he has to see you with his own eyes or he’ll die. you argue that he’s dramatic. nonetheless, satoru was cute so you’ll let him get away with it. 

“hate is a strong word– i just didn’t like you very much. we got off on the wrong foot, might i remind you.” 

2005 — year one at tokyo jujutsu tech

meet at 1 chome-1-1 dogenzaka, shibuya city, tokyo

that was written in the letter addressed to you from yaga. the bustling streets of tokyo, filled with the cacophony of hundreds of conversations and the rush of oncoming traffic, were a stark contrast to the serene country life you had enjoyed. 

the sheer mass of people in the street made it nearly impossible for you to spot your teacher and future classmates, but the heavens above must be on your side because you spot a dark uniform in the corner of your eye, similar to the one you’re wearing.

a jujutsu tech uniform! without wasting a second, you weave your way through the crowd to the tall figure. upon closer inspection, you find that it was a boy with snow hair, a juxtaposition to the dark fabric of his uniform.

“excuse me, but are you by any chance from–” you tap on the abnormally tall frame from behind.

“not interested.” he doesn’t spare you a glance before walking away. it takes you a minute to process what had just happened. did he just–? that must have been a figment of your imagination. you feel as though you were shell shocked.

another voice joins the conversation, “oh, gojo, you found her.” it was another guy with a uniform just like the white haired boy and yours. he has notable bangs, you think. 

“did i? she must be a real weakling. i couldn’t even sense her cursed energy,” gojo now turns back to look at you.

a surge of irritation courses through you, your grip on your skirt tightening. this guy must be some spoiled brat that came from a special lineage. you shoot him a sharp glare from the corner of your eyes, only to find out that he too had a sharp gaze on you.

a low whistle comes out of his mouth. 

 “oh,” there is a noticeable change in the tone of his voice. from your peripheral vision, you notice him take off his round sunglasses. “hey.”  you want to laugh.

out of pure pettiness, you recycle his previous comment, “not interested.”

thankfully, another student arrived, this time it was a girl with short brown hair. she waved at you politely, to which you happily smiled. it was nice to know that there were some people left in this world with manners.

soon after her arrival, yaga comes.

“hello, i’m [last name] [first name] from kyoto. please take care of me!” you bow before everyone but gojo or whatever his name is. you come to find out that mr. bangs is actually geto and the pretty girl is ieiri.

“you didn’t tell me she was hot,” gojo not-so-quietly whispers to geto. the hand over his mouth is in vain because you can still hear him clearly. both ieiri and geto make a distasteful face. 

you look around confused. it’s not everyday you receive such a brash compliment, “...thank you?” 

there’s a slightly horrified look on gojo’s face when he realizes that you had heard him, but he recovers quickly, replacing it with a cheshire grin.

“say, have you been to shinjuku? i’m sure a country bumpkin like you wouldn’t know, so allow me to–” 

there’s only so much patience in your body. with a deep breath and your best passive aggressive smile, you utter, “no thanks.” 

he blinks. once. twice. you assume he is not used to rejection with the way he has yet to process it. 

a soft chuckle leaves his mouth, “playing hard to get, i see. i like a challenge.”

“that’s not really the case.”

“one date,” he announces with a playful smirk, raising a single finger in emphasis.

you’re on the verge of shaking your head in rejection, but before you can, yaga intervenes, swiftly and unceremoniously slapping the back of gojo’s head.

“kids these days,” he mutters under his breath while gojo rubs the wound painfully. you snicker.

gojo straightens up when the sound of your laughs reaches his ears. his eyes track the sound waves back to your face, only to be disappointed when he sees that your attention is on geto. 

unlike gojo, geto was trying to salvage what was left of a good first impression. the black haired male smiles awkwardly, leading you away from his strange friend, “so you’re from kyoto? why didn’t you attend the jujutsu tech there?”

from behind you, there’s an incredulous, “eh? and lose a beauty like that to the kyoto guys?” 

you’re nearly certain that a blood vessel is about to pop. but you swallow your frustration, choosing to answer the only sensible boy you’ve met today.

“i’m trying to avoid clan matters, so kyoto is the last place i want to be,” you explain to geto who nods understandingly. 

what you don’t see is the sneaky wink he sends back at a fuming satoru.

2018 — present day

your recollection must not have been accurate, because your husband is sulking by the end of your story. 

“hmph. that’s not how i remember it.” he crosses his arm with a huff.

“how do you remember it? do tell.” you look down at him. there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes, like you’ve just walked into his trap.

there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes, like you’ve just walked into his trap. “i remembered cherry blossoms falling and more hearts floating around,”

you smack his shoulder.

“be serious!”

he waves his hand in the air to stop your playful attacks, “fine, fine!” 

you know that he’s secretly enjoying the attention.

“well, i’m quite the looker so it was common for girls to constantly gush over me y’know?” he grins. you did not find that amusing, retracting your hands from his hair. he immediately grabs your hand and places it back on his head.

“let me finish!”

you resume your handiwork on his head reluctantly. “go on.”

there’s a content smile on his face, “i thought you were just trying to hit on me! it was only after i took a good look at you, i realized that you were totally hot.”

“i can’t believe i married you.” you roll your eyes, but there is no malice behind the action.

“hah–” his mouth is wide open. “i’m a total catch, ya’ know?!” 

“mhm, yeah. you are a catch toru,” you coo while pinching his cheek and he blushed furiously. 

the two of you are too engrossed with each other to notice the horrified look that has settled on nanami’s face. one peaceful afternoon, he thinks. one peaceful afternoon is all he asks for.

extra notes- 

yuji respects gojo as his teacher, but he still can’t believe that gojo was able to pull you.

there have been multiple occasions where you had forgotten to give satoru a goodmorning kiss, each time he finds you and forces you to actually give him a dozen to compensate. it doesn’t matter if he was on a mission or teaching (he’s annoying like that).

gojo’s the pride of the gojo clan so he was spoiled rotten, hence the reason why he was so sure you were into him.

this is only the start, as your high school years go by, he only falls harder.

[juno-verse]

Explore Me

Summary: Even in your sleep, you tempt her.

Dom!Emily, Mommy!Emily, CNC (Somnophilia), Toys, Edging

A/N: Oops, this was a bit later than I planned. Hopefully, you guys still enjoy it. This was kinda rushed, sorry! Let me know if there are mistakes.

Men and minors, please stay away.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

It was a cold and dark early morning when Emily finally found her way home. In the unsure hours of dawn, the unit chief immediately made her way to the bedroom, ready to pass out with you in her arms after days of hard work and a grueling case. 

Being the unit chief, Emily was grateful for your endless patience regarding her work. You were understanding whenever she came home at 3 AM, her side of the bed cold and your body comfortable next to hers. And when she did get home on time, you were right there with a warm meal and a sweet kiss. 

Tonight, however, she made a change of plans. Suddenly, she doesn’t want to close her eyes and rest just yet. Not when she has to savor this view right in front of her. 

Because there you were, deep asleep on her bed, wearing only her BAU hoodie with your underwear peeking out. Emily swears you were carved straight from her deepest and darkest desires, that even in your unconsciousness you tempt her.

Your legs seemed to go on for miles, trails she planned to explore. Your face was angelic, serene, and beautiful—quite the opposite of what was going on through Emily’s racing thoughts.

The unit chief was glad she had a break from work tomorrow. Emily plans to use this time carefully—she was going to use it all on you. 

There was a point in time when she despised herself for wanting such unusual things. Emily felt like a depraved woman for wanting to see you on your knees for her, for enjoying it when you show even the slightest amount of submission, and most especially, for craving to take you no matter the time of day—she wanted to take you even in your sleep. 

With the nature of her job, Emily felt like a monster for simply desiring you this much. 

But after sensing her hesitation to do anything remotely intimate with you—to the point that it was affecting her ability to be around you—you had to sit her down. 

The two of you had a long and intense conversation about sex, consent, safewords, and everything else that made sure both of you were comfortable and safe with each other. It helped Emily understand that you wanted her just as much—it reassured her immensely that you trusted her with your heart and body. Even with this one little thing she was about to do. 

And as soon as that conversation ended, it was a long night of newfound passion and discoveries with each other. 

So seeing you like this… Oh, her mind was listing down all the things she wanted to do to you.

Emily took a tentative step but the floorboards decided to creak loudly beneath her weight. The unit chief thought she had to fix that as soon as she saw that you stirred awake and took a slow peek at her.

“Is that you, Em?” You hummed sleepily before closing your eyes again when you saw it was just your girlfriend. 

“Yes, sweet girl. Go back to sleep. I’ll be with you in a bit.” Emily answered with a strained voice as you shuffled around and ended up with your body facing her. A visible gulp made its way down her throat as the hoodie rode up your thigh.

Emily swears you were doing this on purpose. But as you smiled sleepily up at her, her heart warmed at the sight. You mumbled your agreement which sounded like a cute little “Welcome home,” and then went right back to sleep, ever so comfortable in her presence.

She only made her move once your breaths evened out and you were sound asleep once again. 

Sitting by your legs, Emily started to drag her finger up and down your bare thighs. She enjoyed the small goosebumps that crawled throughout your skin and the tiny whimper that escaped you, “Hmm… Em…”

Emily caved right there and then, just a taste, she swore it to herself. 

She maneuvered you gently and placed herself between your thighs. The pretty underwear teased Emily endlessly, urging her to remove them. And so she pulled them down with bated breath, your underwear pooling down by your ankles. 

Emily’s hands explored the expanse of your figure, her palms eager to grasp what skin it could reach for. Your frame felt exquisite in her hand, every crevice of your body sculpted by the gods. Your curves were her favorite thing about you, right next to your smile, your face, your everything.

You were so pliable in her hands whether you were awake or not, you were her submissive gorgeous girl. Emily started on your soft stomach, her kisses were open-mouthed and warm. She tasted a hint of your bath soap on your skin and felt you inhale sharply before relaxing back on the bed.

Her tongue then trailed downwards leaving a wet trail on your lower stomach down to your pelvis, you moaned softly in your sleep and tried to swat at the movement on your lower half. Emily only grabbed your wrist and held it down by your hips. 

At the first swipe of her tongue on your inner thigh, you whimpered her name softly. 

“I wonder what’s going on in that mind of yours, sweetie,” Emily smiled and continued to pepper kisses closer and closer to where your body was aching for it.

“I wonder if your dreams are as wild as this,” she whispered and licked a line from your clit down to your entrance which earned her a loud whine from you. You tasted like heaven on her tongue and the raven-haired woman swears she can stay here for hours if you’d let her.

Emily started to put more effort into her licks, eating you out the way she always does. You were writhing in your sleep—because deep in your slumber, your dreams were not much different than what was happening in real life.

The line between slumber and the real world started to blur when you felt the familiar roll of Emily’s tongue on your pussy. Your body no longer knew whether you were getting wet because of your dreams or because there was a certain someone between your thighs. In your dreams, Emily had her tongue deep in your pussy and her thumb playing around with your clit. She ate you out messily as if she was a woman starved to death. 

“Taste so fucking good…” Emily said against your wetness, mainly to herself, but also because she knew that the vibrations drove you wild. She has explored every nook and cranny of your flesh and bones to the point that she has it all memorized like the back of her hand. But up until now, she continues to be awed by your figure. 

At the feel of the vibrations, you felt your insides clench around nothing and your stomach tighten. You started to move more in your sleep, your hips rolling against Emily’s tongue. And for now, she lets you because she knows you, you weren’t quite there yet. You weren’t that desperate mess she needed you to be yet.

So she sucked on your clit, just the way you liked it, and pushed two fingers into you with no preparation. Your eyes started to move frantically behind your eyelids, searching for the source of your pleasure. Emily began to curl her fingers toward the roof of your insides and felt you clench in response. She groaned against your pussy, her fingers wrapped around your delicious heat.

Some nights, Emily finds herself wondering what being inside you would feel like, how tight and warm and good you would be around a cock. But this is enough to sate her, feeling your pussy grip onto her fingers as if refusing to let them out. 

“Em, please…” You whimpered in your sleep, getting closer to your orgasm, and Emily smiled wickedly at the sound. Her chest puffed up in pride, knowing that even in your dirtiest of dreams, you were still hers. This is how she liked you, begging and desperate, hers. 

When whines continued to spill out of your mouth and your hole started to pulse rapidly around her fingers, Emily halted all of her movements. You cried out in your sleep when she stopped, your body not understanding the abrupt stop to the pleasure.

Pulling out of you, a long whimper spilled out of your mouth. Giving your clit a last lick, Emily smiled at the way it twitched in response, pleading with her to come back. Even with no words, you still knew how to beg for her. 

“You did such a good job, baby.” Emily kissed your stomach and pulled up your panties before leaving the bed to clean up and start her bedroom routine.

And on the bed, you were still breathing heavily with legs still twitching every few seconds.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆⋆⋅☼⋅⋆⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

So when you came to the next morning with wobbly legs and wet underwear, you woke up confused and horny. The dream you had last night turned into a distant memory despite feeling all hot and bothered.

Turning to the woman beside you, Emily had an arm wrapped around your lower stomach, and her face pressed against the same pillow as yours. You smiled up at her and tucked a loose strand behind her ear. She sleepily looked for the warmth of your hand in her sleep so you kissed her cheek softly.

Emily looked gorgeous in this morning light, her pale skin gleaming and her lips a light shade of red.

Being this close to her, reminded you of the dull ache between your thighs. You sighed heavily as you weighed your options: you can either take a cold cold shower now and ready yourself for the weekend so you can let your girlfriend sleep, or wake Emily up so she can help you out with your little wet problem.

As you stared at Emily, sound asleep and breathing deeply, you opted to let her rest. After all, you knew how hard she worked these past few days. Making a move to stand up, her grip only tightened on you—as it turns out, Emily decided for you. 

“Stay with me,” she mumbled in her sleep and you didn’t have the heart to say no.

Her hand started to travel up and under your hoodie, her hand settling on your bare waist. Her touch felt cold against your warm skin and you shivered against her. Having her hands on you in such an intimate way was turning you on even more. Even in her sleep, Emily still affects you.

You stayed still for a few moments, trying to calm your beating heart and cool down the heat spreading throughout your body. But when Emily started to trace patterns on your skin, unconsciously and enticingly, the heat turned fervid. The pleasure you were feeling last night carried into this slow morning. You had no way of stopping yourself when she felt this amazing already.

You groaned and sat up to straddle the woman, your center pressing down on her toned stomach. The pressure against your clit made you feel relieved. You started to ride the hard muscles on her stomach, every movement sending jolts of pleasure up your stomach.

You bent down to leave kisses on her jaw softly as you tried to wake her up, “Em, please…” Your wetness seeped through your panties and left a wet trail on her stomach. You were already so close because you woke up so needy.

Emily stirred awake and was greeted with a lovely view once again. There you were on top of her riding her stomach eagerly with your hair still tousled from your sleep and her clothes on you. “Good morning, baby. Need something?” Emily husked out slowly, her voice still groggy from sleep. Her hands gripped your hips possessively, guiding your movements against her stomach. 

“Need you, please…” You whined desperately—Emily smirked, her plan had worked. “Okay, baby. Just keep moving against me.” She continued to push and pull on your hips as she flexed her stomach, hardening them to help you ride your pleasure. You moaned louder at the feel of her hard muscles, you looked down and salivated over her figure.

“I’m close, Emily—!” You cried out as you were nearing your orgasm. Emily suddenly flipped the both of you, leaving you unfinished once again. You looked up at her with tears in your eyes, mouth ready to beg, when she suddenly pushed your panties to the side and shoved two fingers in you with no warning.

The feeling felt familiar but before you could think about it even more, you found yourself being fucked roughly by Emily. Her movements were pulling moan after moan out of you. 

“Couldn’t even wait until I woke up? You’re so fucking needy for me, baby.” Emily grunted as her other hand made its way to grab the dildo hiding in your shared nightstand. “I’m sorry, mommy! I need to cum for you, please!” You whined as you held onto the sheets. Emily chuckled darkly, you only called her ‘Mommy’ when you were getting needy for her and slowly sinking deeper into subspace. 

“Already? You’re gonna cum already just for me?” She asked with a playful tone you were too fucked out to hear and comprehend. “Yes! Yes, mommy! Please!” You answered her as Emily’s fingers were sucked deeper into your pussy. 

“No.” 

It was just one word and your body instantly obeyed, trying its best to stop your oncoming orgasm. A resounding cry came from you, your eyes widening and tearing up as you stared at Emily in confusion. 

“N–No? Mommy?” Your hips slowed down from riding her fingers as Emily looked down at you smugly. “No, you can’t cum yet, angel.” Her fingers stilled inside you as she watched your tight hole pulse around her digits, similar to last night, begging her to continue. 

“O–Okay, Mommy.” You gulped and nodded, readying yourself because you wanted to be good for her. “Good job listening to Mommy,” Emily mumbled as she pulled out her fingers and replaced them with the dildo.

The toy filled your pussy all the way and you whined her name at the stretch you felt. Emily’s eyes loved the way you looked right now: your panties pulled to the side, your hands clutching the bed sheets tightly, and your eyes looking up at her with so much love and desperation. 

When you adjusted to the size, Emily started to move the cock slowly but roughly, every thrust hitting that spot inside of you. With every thrust, came a moan of her name. And within seconds you were begging her to let you cum again, having been edged thrice already but twice to your knowledge.

“Mommy, I can’t hold it! Please, can I cum?” You begged her, your hips uncontrollable and moving in time with her thrusts. “No. Not until I allow you to.” She answered and halted all her movements. Your body arched as you tried to chase her, hoping to find reprieve.

The raven-haired woman moved south of your body and placed her head between your thighs, “I can stay here and do you for hours. So you will wait, like a good girl, until mommy allows you to cum. Okay, baby?”

It wasn’t like you had any other choice but to say yes, “Okay, mommy! I wanna be good.” After all, you have been aching for your orgasm since you woke up this morning.

Emily edged you two or three more times or perhaps more, you had lost count. She had used the dildo, her fingers, and her tongue on you — just to edge you mercilessly. Emily took that time to reacquaint herself again and again with your body, exploring the places she already knew and still enjoyed every reaction she got from you. Emily knows she would never tire of this, of you, and how well you take her.

By the time the dull morning light shifted into high noon, you had tears down your face, your legs were trembling nonstop, and every single touch on your clit made you cry out. 

When you could no longer form words, Emily finally took pity on you. With the dildo inside you and her tongue on your clit, you were overwhelmed with the aching need to cum that it started to hurt. But this time, Emily was more gentle with you, knowing how sensitive you were already. Her tongue was soft on your clit and the toy was gently prodding at your spot.

You started to whine at the pleasure being given to you, already fearing and anticipating the feeling of being edged again. Sensing your hesitation and pain, Emily was quick to soothe you. “Shhh… sweetie, you can cum for me now. Cum for mommy, angel.” 

Your body released the tension it had held for the past few hours, at her instruction. Your mouth dropped open, a silent expression gradually getting louder as you pushed back against Emily. 

“Yes, Mommy, I’m gonna cum just for you!”

Loud moans fell from your lips, her name the only thing you remember as you orgasmed in Emily’s mouth and around her cock. You were blinded for a few seconds, a ringing so profound in your ears that you had no idea how loud you were getting.

“That’s my sweet girl, keep cumming for mommy.”

“You taste so fucking good all the time.”

All throughout, Emily just watched you in awe and reveled in the way you taste. The raven-haired woman swears you taste sweeter every time she edges you. She helped you through your orgasm, knowing how tiring it must’ve been to be edged for hours and have such a strong orgasm.

Emily pressed kisses to your thighs before pulling out slowly. She set the toy aside and gathered you back into her arms. The unit chief whispered praises in your ears, about how good you were for her and how well you took her. You were shaking in her arms, all your limbs felt heavy and limp. Her body served as a way to ground you back down to reality as she continued to take care of you and ease you out of your subspace.

“You did so well, sweetheart. I’ll get you some water and fruits in a bit, okay?” She pressed a kiss to your forehead as she searched for a towel in the bedside drawer to clean you up between your legs. “Was that okay? Was it too much?” Emily asked as she looked at your curled-up form tucked beneath her chin, still worried about you and how it could affect you. “It was perfect, Em. You were perfect.” You kissed her jaw with a soft smile, reassuring her worries.

When you asked her if she did anything to you last night, Emily just shrugged and said she had no idea what you were talking about. But when you answered that she should do it again and use you whenever she wants, who was she to say no to your offer?

[impish-baby]

Platonic Yandere! Changling x reader drabble - 🪺🪲 (Trigger warnings: implied/referenced abuse, death, general creepiness)

There's something wrong with your brother.

Yelling has turned into soft murmurs, slamming of cupboards now only being accompanied by a quick apology and a meal soon placed in front of you.

Turned over a new leaf, he says. Hah. It might be nice if it was even slightly believable.

Your mother is overjoyed with the change, she smiles so much more. He does too, but there's something strange about it. Even on the rare occasions he'd smile, it never looked so out of place on his face. The kindness in his eyes wasn't there before, there's no way it's real.

You aren't dumb enough to fall into whatever ploy this is, you aren't that willfully naive.

The other shoe has to drop eventually.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me?" Jeremiah lingers in the doorway, completely ignoring the glare thrown his way. "Spring is almost here, the flowers are getting ready to bloom-"

"I said no already, go by yourself."

With the way he flinches you'd think you had struck the older boy, he'd have deserved it at least.

"P- Please? Listen, I know our relationship hasn't been.. the best, but-"

"Hasn't been the best?" The outrage you feel has you sitting up straight, hands clenched into fists. "Fucking bastard, you think you can play nice for a couple days and that makes up for everything you've done-"

The door suddenly clicking shut sends a cold chill down your spine.

You're sure a smack is soon to follow, you end up bracing for nothing as Jeremiah drops to his knees in front of your bed instead.

"Please.." Tears are falling in steady streams down his face. "I- I'm a changed man, alright? I'm better."

He grasps your hands delicately, intertwining your fingers. The man sobs as you flinch at his touch.

"I- I'll prove it, just come with me.." He really does look pathetic, eyes shiny as he pulls you to stand up. "Come on.."

It's silent as you walk besides the occasional quiet sniffle, he keeps ahold of you the entire way.

You're lead into a clearing, the trees serenely swaying in the breeze as Jeremiah suddenly stops.

In the grass, your big brother's empty gaze stares back at you.

"I- I've kept it fresh a little longer than usual, wanted to make sure I got all the features right, you know..?" A nervous chuckle, "i- i did a good job i think."

His arms wrap around you from behind as he buries his face in your shoulder. "It's better, right? I'm better."

[claramelooo]

I think I don't need made it clear, but cheat is wrong and if you agree with this, you have a huge character flaw, improve!

Finally the moment has arrived!

Enjoy it! <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Warning: + 18

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem reader

Summary: Wanda's jealousy makes her take an important step in your relationship

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 - Predator | Part 2 - The Prey | Part 3 - On Your Knees | Part 5 - The Lamb

Velvet Chains

The Spider

The church bells echoed through the neighborhood, announcing the start of the Sunday mass. You were late—as always. You sat discreetly in the back pews, trying to blend in with the crowd of familiar faces. But it didn’t take long for your eyes to be drawn to the front, where the Maximoff family sat in their usual spot.

There was Wanda, sitting upright next to Vision, with Billy and Tommy between them. The twins were impeccable, in little suits that made their rosy cheeks look even more innocent. Vision, ever composed, was the picture of the devoted husband and present father. Wanda, in turn, seemed to radiate grace and serenity.

You watched as she tilted her head to listen to something Tommy was whispering, a gentle smile curving her lips. There was something so perfect about the scene that it was almost suffocating. The way she adjusted her son’s tie with quick, delicate fingers, how Vision placed a protective hand on Billy’s shoulder, how the four of them seemed like a living painting of family harmony.

The congregation adored them. The approving glances and knowing smiles all around were impossible to ignore. It was clear that everyone saw Wanda and her family as a model to be followed—a beacon of perfection in an imperfect world.

But you couldn’t stop wondering: If she’s so happy, why does she look at me like that?

The thought hit you hard, and you quickly averted your gaze, feeling your heart race. You tried to focus on the sermon, but the priest’s words seemed blurry. All you could see was her.

As the service went on, you watched her out of the corner of your eye. She looked so devout, hands clasped in prayer, eyes closed, but there was something beneath that facade of holiness you couldn’t ignore. A barely perceptible tension in her shoulders, a shadow in her smile.

And then, when everyone’s eyes were closed, singing the hymn, it happened. You caught her looking.

It was quick, but enough for you to know it wasn’t your imagination. Her gaze met yours, just a second longer than it should have, before she diverted her attention to the children. It was a look heavy with something you couldn’t fully decipher—desire, frustration, maybe even desperation.

She’s so good at this, you thought, feeling a lump in your throat. So good at seeming perfect.

As soon as the service ended, you rushed straight out of the sacred temple—to avoid any contact with anyone—and ended up bumping into another person.

“Y/n?” The familiar female voice rang in your mind like bells.

“Yelena?” You asked weakly.

As soon as the words left your mouth, Yelena tilted her head to the side, a smile forming on her face as though she had just remembered an old inside joke. "Wow, so you’re still alive? I thought you had been sent off to a convent or something."

You opened your mouth to respond, but Yelena was already laughing, that laugh you always found contagious. "And you’re still as clumsy as ever," she continued, crossing her arms and sizing you up.

"I’m not clumsy," you replied, but stumbled over your words, which only made her smile widen.

"Oh, yes, you are!" Yelena shot back, taking a step back as if bracing for an imminent explosion. "But you’ve grown up well, I see."

You felt your cheeks burn, but before you could think of a witty response, Yelena stepped closer and gave you a sudden hug. "It’s good to see you, Y/n," she said, her voice softening. "I thought I’d never run into you again."

You couldn’t help but smile—that smile that seemed to come from a forgotten place, a hidden corner of your memory where Yelena always held a special space. But before you could say anything, she pulled back and raised an eyebrow. "So, do you still only fancy girls? Or have you 'grown out of it'?"

Your jaw dropped at the audacity, but the teasing glint in Yelena’s eyes made it clear she was just playing around. "Tsk, you never change!" you replied, crossing your arms and trying to look indignant.

"Oh, good," Yelena said, shrugging. "I prefer you this way. Way more interesting than these smiling hypocrites around here." She glanced around, making it clear she was talking about the very place you were in.

From a distance, Wanda watched the interaction with narrowed eyes, the kind smile she wore as a mask beginning to fade. Her chest burned with something she didn’t want to name—jealousy.

Who was this woman who made you smile so easily? Who pulled genuine laughter from you while Wanda herself struggled to coax even a shy smile? Wanda felt her fingers involuntarily tighten on her purse strap as her eyes followed every movement of their interaction.

Oh, she sees.

Yelena.

The problematic daughter of the church, the black sheep in a flock of immaculate whiteness. Wanda vaguely remembered her from the sermons years ago: messy blonde hair, clothes always a little out of place from the modest standard expected, and an attitude that seemed to shout defiance with every breath.

Yelena never fit in. She was the type of person who asked uncomfortable questions during Bible studies, who laughed loudly when no one else found anything funny, who made a point of standing out even in an environment where uniformity was seen as a virtue.

And now, there she was, as comfortable and confident as ever, talking to you like she had every right in the world to occupy space in your life.

Wanda gritted her teeth, hatred bubbling inside her with a force that almost scared her. It was irrational, of course. Yelena hadn’t done anything directly to Wanda, but that only made her irritation grow. The blonde seemed to exist to provoke, to rebel, to remind Wanda of everything she considered chaotic and unnecessary.

And now, she was pulling you into this world. So when Yelena tilted her head and gave you a playful tap on the shoulder, Wanda saw everything in shades of scarlet.

“You really are a mess,” Yelena said, laughing. “But I think I missed this.”

“Well, you’re not perfect either,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“Of course not,” Yelena retorted, winking. “But at least I’m fun.”

Your laughter echoed in the air, and Wanda turned abruptly, marching away with firm, calculated steps. Fun, she thought, her teeth clenched. She doesn’t need fun. She needs focus. She needs me.

Yelena was a symbol of everything Wanda despised and feared: chaos, disobedience, questioning. And now, she had you. She made you smile. She made you open up in a way Wanda couldn’t.

Wanda took a deep breath, trying to compose herself while watching from afar, her nails digging into the palm of her hand. She knew it was irrational. But, at the same time, she knew she’d do anything to keep Yelena away from you.

[...]

Your shift at the library was coming to an end, and you hadn't seen the woman who haunted your dreams. In fact, you hadn't seen her since Sunday at church. Instead of offering you personal mentoring, Wanda had simply written what you should study and made a few comments on your essays.

Had you done something? Hurt her? Made her angry? Had something happened?

Your thoughts vanished the moment her figure appeared in front of you, as though she had been there all along. Wanda stood in front of a bookshelf, seemingly deep in thought.

“Wanda, I–” You tried to speak, but she turned to face you, making you stop mid-sentence. Wanda shot you an enigmatic look before turning back to the shelf, picking up a few books and placing them on your desk.

"Your shift is almost over," she said. Hearing her voice after a few days made your heart race. "Do you think you could help me take these books to my place? The boys have a test next week, they need to study."

"Y-yes," you replied, mentally kicking yourself for stammering.

Wanda's eyes brightened for a moment, a smile curling at the corner of her lips.

"I'll wait for you in the car, then," she handed you the keys and walked out.

The weight of the moment seemed to hang in the air as Wanda left, leaving only the trace of her overwhelming presence behind. You held your breath for a moment, the cold library keys in your hand, your mind spinning in a whirl of questions.

Why had she been distant these past few days? Why did she seem so... different now?

You finished organizing your things, carefully locked the door, and walked toward the parking lot, the weight of the books in your arms mirroring the heaviness in your chest. Wanda’s car was there, parked under the shade of a tree, and she was in the driver's seat, the window rolled down, her eyes focused on something in the distance.

As you approached, Wanda looked at you and gave a slight smile, but there was something in her gaze that unsettled you—a glimmer that felt both warm and dangerous.

"Get in," she said, her voice low and soft, almost an invitation, yet with the firmness of an order. You obeyed, placing the books in the back seat and sitting beside her. The silence that followed was thick, but not uncomfortable; it was charged, like a rope stretched to its breaking point.

Wanda drove with calculated ease, her fingers holding the wheel with the same delicacy with which she seemed to handle everything in life. Occasionally, she’d glance in your direction, and you could feel the intensity of her gaze, even without turning your head.

“You’ve been working well,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

“Thank you,” you replied, trying to sound neutral, though the stammer almost came back.

The silence reigned all the way to her house. “We’re here,” she announced, parking in front of a house that looked straight out of a catalog: an immaculate garden, a white fence, flowers perfectly aligned.

She got out of the car with grace, and you followed, balancing the books in your arms while trying not to trip.

The house was as perfect inside as it was outside, decorated with a flawless balance of coziness and sophistication. The sound of children laughing echoed in the distance, but Wanda moved with calm, guiding you into the living room.

"Leave the books here," she indicated a table, and you obeyed.

When you turned to her, Wanda was standing closer than you expected, arms crossed, that unreadable look on her face again.

"Thanks for the help," she said, and there was something in her tone, a softness that almost felt… maternal.

Billy and Tommy pulled her attention, asking for help with a question about the test. Wanda leaned toward them, answering with patience and care, the kind of mother any child would dream of having. But even while talking to her sons, her thoughts were on you, and the overwhelming desire to have you completely under her control surged inside her like an unstoppable tide.

She stood up again when the boys returned to the living room, turning back to you with a gentle smile—a smile that masked the storm raging inside her. “The boys will be fine now. Do you want something to drink?”

You hesitated, the discomfort obvious. “I think I should go, Wanda. I don’t want to impose.”

"Impose?" she repeated, almost laughing. But there was something in her laugh—something tense. “You would never impose on me, Y/n.”

The softness of her words made something stir inside you. You wanted to believe it was just kindness, but you knew it was more than that. There was an intensity in her eyes that held you captive, pulling you in like a magnet.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice low.

“Then don’t say anything,” she murmured, almost like an order. She moved closer, her steps slow, deliberate. “Just… stay here with me.”

Something inside you screamed that you should leave, that you should escape this overwhelming sensation, but your legs wouldn’t move. It was as if she had already wrapped you in an invisible web, and you couldn’t break free.

“And Vision?” Of all the things, that was the first thing you managed to say.

"Business trip," she said, placing a cup of hot chocolate on the table while she sipped a carefree glass of wine. You shot her a curious look. “What?”

“Hot chocolate? Are you serious?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, with a hint of humor in your question.

“You’re too young for wine, and coffee is out of the question,” she replied, while pouring herself more wine—almost like a playful challenge.

“I drink coffee,” you countered.

“The person who offered you that should be arrested. Or killed,” she smiled behind her glass, the corner of her lips curling into a questionable humor.

You laughed, even though you tried to hold it back. Her lighthearted comment was an unexpected break in the tension that always seemed to exist between you two. Holding your cup of hot chocolate, you took a small sip and narrowed your eyes at her, pretending to disapprove.

“I’ll pretend this isn’t just jealousy because I’m young,” you said, arching an eyebrow.

Wanda smiled crookedly, a smile that seemed to light up the room. “Maybe I just like to tease you,” she said, joking, but there was something behind the teasing, a depth you couldn’t ignore.

You shook your head, smiling, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Well, mission accomplished.”

She tilted her head, watching you with curious eyes, as if trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re funny when you’re uncomfortable, you know?”

“That’s a strange compliment, Wanda,” you replied, taking another sip of the hot chocolate. “Or are you saying you like to see me uncomfortable?”

“I like to see you any way, my sweet,” she answered casually, but the intensity in her gaze contradicted the lightness of her words. You felt your stomach churn with the implicit confession.

“That was… forward,” you murmured, looking away. “It’s not common to hear that, you know?”

“Maybe because no one else has had the courage to say it before.” Her reply came quickly, almost as if it had been rehearsed. She took another sip of wine, her eyes still fixed on you. “But I’m not like the others, Y/n.”

You looked at her, studying every detail: the green eyes that seemed to pierce your soul, the way she held her glass with a confidence that seemed natural. “No, you’re definitely not like the others,” you said, before you could stop yourself.

For a moment, silence fell between you two, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, laden with something neither of you wanted to name. Then Wanda broke the moment, resting her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, as though studying you.

“Tell me something,” she said, suddenly changing the subject. “Something no one else knows about you.

“Something no one else knows?” you repeated, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah. A secret. A memory. Something big or small, it doesn’t matter. I want to know more about you,” she explained, her voice so soft it was almost hypnotizing.

You hesitated, feeling vulnerable under her gaze, but at the same time, there was something inviting in the way she waited for your answer. “Okay… I used to collect rocks when I was a kid,” you finally said, laughing softly.

Wanda raised her eyebrows, clearly intrigued. “Rocks? Seriously?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, laughing again. “But they weren’t just rocks. Each one had a story. Some were ‘magical,’ others ‘cursed.’ I’d make a huge drama about it.”

She laughed softly, her laughter’s melody seeming to fill the space around you. “That’s adorable. And it makes sense. You seem like someone who would bring rocks to life.”

You protested, but her laughter was so contagious, and soon you were laughing too.

As the laughter died down, she looked at you with a soft, almost protective expression. “See? This. That smile. That’s what I’ve wanted to see for so long.” Wanda whispered, her eyes fixed on you—clearly enchanted.

You remained silent, feeling an unexpected warmth spreading through your chest. Something was changing, deepening between you both, but you didn’t know whether to be afraid or simply accept it.

The conversation began softly as Wanda sat next to you on the couch, the dim light of the late afternoon casting soft shadows around the room. She watched you as if trying to see beyond the words, beyond the silence. When she finally broke the moment, her voice was calm, yet direct.

“Tell me more about your old life. I’d like to know you better,” she asked, her head slightly tilted, her eyes attentive.

You looked away, your fingers nervously playing with the sleeve of your sweater. “It’s complicated.”

Wanda didn’t relent. “I want to understand you. I want to know what happened to you. I can see there’s something weighing on you, something you carry alone.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her persistence. Something in the maternal tone of her voice, in the gentle firmness of her presence, made the words slip out before you could hold them back. “I was sent to a Catholic boarding school in England when I was 17.”

Wanda raised her eyebrows, surprised. “A Catholic boarding school? That sounds... ironic, coming from your family.”

You laughed, but the sound was bitter. “Yeah, ironic is one word for it. They wanted to ‘correct’ me.” You made air quotes with your fingers, sarcasm clear in your voice.

She fell silent, giving you space to continue.

“I was accused of… well, trying to kiss a girl named Sharon. Some neighbors saw us talking too close to each other and decided to make up their stories. That was enough to make my parents panic. And just like that, there I was, with a one-way ticket to a nunnery, where I was supposed to learn to be a ‘good girl.’”

Wanda sighed, leaning in a little closer, the warmth of her presence a surprising comfort. “And there? How was it?”

You hesitated, but something in her expression — the patience, the care — encouraged you. “I met Kate there. She was the rebel, the girl who did whatever she wanted and defied the rules. And me? Well, I was the shy one. She teased me all the time, laughed at my seriousness. Until one day, behind the chapel, she kissed me.”

Wanda’s eyes brightened with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. “And then?”

“Then, one of the nuns caught us. Kate denied everything, of course. Said I forced her, said I was a freak. I was punished. They said I was a bad influence on the other girls.” Your voice trembled as you relived the moment, but you kept going. “My family stayed silent. No one defended me. It was as if they finally had an excuse to give up on me.”

Wanda reached out, softly touching your hand, the warmth of her skin against yours anchoring you. “They were wrong,” she said, her voice firm and full of emotion. “Everything about them is wrong, Y/n.”

You looked at her, your eyes welling up. “Why do you care so much? Why do you want to know?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she leaned in closer, enveloping you in her arms. Your head found her shoulder, and she began to stroke your hair with gentle fingers. “Because I see you, Dorogaya. I see how special you are, even if no one has ever told you that before.”

You felt the tears fall, but also a calm that seemed impossible. “I just... wanted to be enough.”

She cupped your face with both hands, lifting it so your eyes met hers. “You are enough. You always have been.”

Before you could respond, her lips met yours. The kiss was soft, but firm, filled with a security you hadn’t felt in so long. There was no rush, no urgency. Just warmth that seemed to envelop you, as if she were trying to convey everything words couldn’t.

Wanda’s hands moved to your waist, gripping your curves.

“Stick your tongue out, Dekta.” She stroked behind your ears, sending a shiver through you.

You moaned softly when you felt Wanda’s hungry tongue meet yours, coaxing you to give in. Her alcohol-tinged, aphrodisiac breath intoxicating you. It was so intense, so distinct… you never thought you could be touched like this, in such a… possessive way.

Your nails dug into Wanda’s back, trying to hold onto something, anything as the kiss deepened.

It didn’t take long for Wanda to tug at the hair at the back of your neck, making the kiss addictive, and soon she was pushing you back, making you lie on the sofa cushions, coming over you. Her body became her only focus — and seeing you so vulnerable, she simply couldn’t resist.

Bold and full of lust, Wanda slid her hands under your shirt, her fingers touching the skin of your stomach, making you gasp. Her plan was to make an even bolder move, grabbing your perfect breasts and squeezing your nipples under the fabric of your bra. However, a noise from upstairs made you both pull apart abruptly.

The kiss had been a spark in the fog Wanda hadn’t even realized surrounded her. It felt as though something dormant inside her for years had finally awakened. Her days with Vision, her impeccably perfect routine, her polite smiles to her children — it all felt like it had been lived in black and white.

But your touch, your lips, brought color.

Wanda felt a warmth radiating from her chest, spreading through her entire body. It wasn’t just desire; it was something deeper, something that made her feel alive in a way she thought she’d forgotten. The world around her seemed to vanish, leaving only the sensation of you, so close, so genuine.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes remained locked on yours, as if trying to memorize every detail. A small, almost shy smile appeared on her lips. Not the smile full of control she usually wore as armor, but something genuine, unarmed.

You made her realize there was something more to feel, more to live. That the safety and routine she knew maybe weren’t enough. The instant your lips met hers, Wanda realized she didn’t want to go back to black and white. You were her reason to see the world in color again.

You swallowed hard, trying to compose your thoughts, but doubt began to grow inside you. “Wanda…” Your voice came out low, almost pleading. “What does this mean? What are we doing?”

The woman pulled back slightly, still watching you, her dark eyes reflecting the embarrassment that consumed you. What was she looking for in you? What were you seeking in her? You wanted answers but didn’t know if you were ready for them.

“I…” and for the first time since meeting Wanda, you saw her falter. “I’m tremendously attracted to you, Y/n.” She confessed. “Would you be interested in having an affair?”

Your heart raced, pounding frantically in your chest. Wanda’s proposal made your mind spin in a whirlwind of thoughts. The air between you two felt charged with electricity, the tension almost palpable. Her gaze didn’t leave yours, keeping you locked in the intensity of her dark eyes.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I... You’re a married woman, Wanda.” Your voice trembled, reflecting the confusion and desire fighting within you.

Wanda slightly tilted her head, a sad smile appearing on her lips. “And you think I don’t know that?” Her voice was soft, but there was a hint of exasperation. “You think I don’t think about it every time I look at you, every time I feel this thing inside me?”

"Thing?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

She took a step forward, closing the distance between you again. "This... need I feel... This connection. It's different from anything I've ever felt before, Y/n."

Your mind screamed to pull back, but your body remained still, absorbing every word. "And Vision? Your children? The church?"

Wanda looked away for a moment, as if the mention of them was an open wound. "They are my family, my duty! But you... you came out of nowhere and became something I can't ignore. I don't want to ignore it."

"This isn't fair." Your voice faltered, a lump growing in your throat. "It's not fair to them. It's not fair to me."

She sighed deeply, and for a moment, you saw a vulnerability in her that seemed impossible. "I know. And yet, here we are, aren't we? I can't get you out of my head, Y/n. You've made me question everything... All the things I thought were right, all the things I thought I knew about myself. And if this is wrong, then... I don’t want to be right."

The silence that followed was heavy. The world around you seemed to fade as you fought against the whirlwind of emotions Wanda had triggered in you.

"I don't know if I can do this," you finally admitted, your voice fragile.

Wanda came closer, and this time, her hands found yours. The warmth of her touch was undeniable, as comforting as it was overwhelming. "I don't expect you to have all the answers right now," she said, almost in a whisper. "But I know that this, whatever it is between us, is real. And I'm willing to risk anything to find out."

You looked into her eyes, searching for something that could help you decide. And, in the end, you found the security you had longed for—not in the situation, but in her.

"I... accept." Your voice barely made it out, but Wanda heard it.

The smile that lit up her face was like the sunrise after an endless night. A smile so bright and true that it made you want to lose yourself in it, want to preserve it at any cost. And in that moment, something broke inside you—or maybe something finally clicked into place. The weight on your chest wasn’t doubt, nor fear. It was something deeper, something more dangerous. It was your own obsession.

What would you do to keep that smile? To hold onto that warmth, that feeling of being seen, of being desired, as something precious? Everything? Maybe.

"I accept," you repeated, this time more firmly, your voice echoing like a promise in the dark room. Wanda smiled again, but now there was something different in the shine of her eyes, as if she knew she had won you over, that she had pulled you into her web and there was no escaping now. "But I've never done this... None of this." You let out a shy whisper. Your confession sounded like a timid prayer, a whisper of vulnerability that Wanda knew she would never forget.

She watched every nuance of your face—the way your eyes avoided hers, how your restless hands searched for something to hold onto, and the blush that rose on your cheeks. So inexperienced, so raw. A blank canvas waiting to be painted, molded by her hands.

It was more than attraction. It was power. A power that enveloped her like a sweet, intoxicating poison, while her mind simmered with ideas of how to guide you, how to corrupt you. Wanda wanted to be the only one to show you everything—the possibilities, the sensations, what desire really meant.

"This is good," she finally murmured, moving closer, her voice low and almost maternal. "It means you're all mine to discover."

She raised her hand, the touch of her fingers running smoothly down the side of your face, almost as if she were examining a precious jewel. You leaned slightly into the touch, like a flower seeking the sun, and the innocent gesture made Wanda bite her lip, struggling to contain the growing desire.

"You trust me, don't you?" she asked, with a softness that masked the true weight of the question.

Your eyes finally met hers, hesitant but sincere. "I trust you," you answered, and Wanda felt a shiver run down her spine.

That trust, so freely given, so unprotected, made her want to devour you, and at the same time, protect every piece of your soul. She knew she was treading dangerous ground, but the desire to shape you, to be the first and only one to mark your skin and your heart, was stronger than any sense of reason that might still exist.

She held your face gently, her thumbs tracing invisible lines on your cheeks with the tips of her fingers. "You don't know how much it means to hear that, my girl," she murmured, as if trying to keep every word deep within her soul.

"I know," you replied, because you knew. You knew how it felt to fall into someone else's abyss, how it felt to be willing to be consumed just to keep feeling the warmth they brought.

Her lips met yours again, but this time the kiss was more intense, as if Wanda was trying to leave a mark, as if she were trying to brand you in a way that could never be erased. You responded with the same hunger, holding onto her wrists as if afraid she might disappear.

She pushed you hard back, and you hit your hip on the corner of the table—what would give you a bruise later, but that mattered little when you sucked in and received Wanda’s demanding tongue into yours.

The woman lifted you up, making you sit on the table so she could press her palm against your pussy, and you moaned, muffled by the kiss as you bit her lip and she gasped.

You didn't have much experience, but you knew this feeling was not common. A kind of dangerous desire to feel, it was corrosive and you could see control slipping through your fingers like trying to hold beach sand.

When the air ran out, the separation was necessary, and you could hear Wanda protesting quietly. Pressing your foreheads together, still panting, you held her gaze, feeling your heart beat like a drum in your chest. "You make me feel like there's nothing else in the world that matters."

It was true. It was dark, it was reckless, but it was true.

You knew you were stepping into dangerous territory. But looking at Wanda, with her eyes burning with emotion and her fingers still tracing your skin, you also knew you were willing to risk it. Even if that meant burning.

Wanda tilted her head, still so close to you that the heat of her breath brushed your skin. The smile on her lips was something between satisfaction and a veiled challenge, as if she were fully aware of the power she held over you—and relished it.

Yelena... the name wouldn't leave the woman's mind, taking her to a limbo of insecurities and uncertainties she didn’t even know she had. Making her feel fear. Yet now, the girl was nothing more than a private joke.

How could she think someone so insignificant could steal you from her? That she could destabilize what Wanda was trying to build with you? It was almost adorable how she still didn’t understand. Wanda let out a smile, almost indulgent, still lost in thoughts—while her fingers caressed your neck.

Yelena. 

She had no idea how much time she was wasting. Wanda wasn’t just attractive, she was necessary, the missing piece in your life, the one who could give you everything you needed—or rather, everything you hadn’t yet realized you needed. She knew exactly how to dominate, how to guide, how to make you feel that you couldn’t live without her. And Yelena... Yelena was just a passing obstacle.

The anger of seeing someone else approach you, even if only with words or looks, was a flame Wanda preferred not to feed. She didn’t need it. But all insecurity was gone when you gave yourself to her in such a... complete, raw way. 

Wanda had something deeper with you. Something more lasting. Something that couldn’t be shaken.

She could try as much as she wanted, thought Wanda, with a satisfied smile. But you, Y/n, are already mine. And that... that is something neither she nor anyone can change.

The feeling of control, of being the only one to offer security, warmth, and pleasure, filled Wanda like a drug. She knew you didn’t need anything else. Nothing but her. As she looked at you intently, the thought lingered: She can try... but you've already given in. "I'm the only one who can give you what you want." And that made her smile again. Because, in the end, Yelena could never compete with what Wanda knew she had in her hands.

In that moment, Wanda was like a spider finding an innocuous corner to weave her web. The longer she spent weaving, the more fabulous her construction became, though few noticed—her threads were almost invisible. A spider doesn’t need to exert effort or leave her place to feed—in absolute silence, she waits for her prey to approach and get caught in her web, so she can devour it.

~*~

Y/n, you'll be devoured.

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @3liyuh @rosekjsses @3liyuh @idkwhatever580 @valentine585 @beggingonmykneesforher @trindad2k

[anakinskwkler]

The jewel and the blade

Summary: Anakins fear to be vulnerable with the princess leads to a distance in their friendship.

The soft rays of the morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across the princess’s chambers. The air was thick with the scent of fresh vanilla, and the gentle hum of the castle outside hinted that it was a calm day. The Princess lay still beneath her blue, silken sheets, her chest rising and falling in a serene slumber, oblivious to the world outside.

Standing near the doorway, Anakin skywalker, her royal knight, kept a watchful eye. His posture was rigid, his armor gleaming in the morning light, yet his expression was calm—an unwavering sentinel at the princess’s side. His thoughts, though, remained on his duty, not on the quiet stirrings of the day.

The door creaked open softly as the princess’s handmaidens entered, their whispers breaking the stillness. Their presence was a signal of the day’s start, and without a word, they moved to her bedside, ready to rouse her from sleep. Anakin's gaze flicked to them briefly, a hint of something unspoken in his eyes, before returning to his protective stance.

But as the handmaidens’ gentle hands stirred the princess awake, Anakin's eyes stayed on her figure before the door slowly shut. The quick eye contact they had made in that moment had sparked that bit of tension that was always bubbling when they were around eachother.

The princess slowly woke, the soft morning light streaming into her room. Her handmaidens quietly entered, moving to her side to help her prepare for the day.

She got dressed into a pale, lavender gown made from silk. The dress fit her figure well, it was quite flattering on her. Her handmaidens put half her hair into a bun while the rest fell over her shoulders. The Princess put a pair of elegant slippers and opened the door to her room, her eyes meeting anakins soft blue eyes.

Anakin stood at the door, waiting silently. His posture was straight, his expression calm, but there was something tense in the way he carried himself.

The princess looked up at him. “Good morning, Anakin.”

“Good morning, Princess,” he replied, his voice even. They began to walk down the hall to the stairs, on their way to the dining room.

“Is something wrong?” she asked. “You’ve seemed distant lately.”

Anakin hesitated, his eyes briefly shifting away. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

She studied him for a moment, sensing that something was troubling him more than he let on. “You don’t have to hide it from me, Anakin. If something’s wrong, you can talk about it.”

Anakin’s gaze flicked to hers, and for a second, he looked like he might say more. But instead, he shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s my duty to keep you safe. That’s all that matters.”

The princess didn’t press further, but she didn’t believe him. She could feel the unease in the air, and though she didn’t know what it meant, she knew something was coming.

Anakin would usually be open with the princess, he'd rarely talk this formal with her unless they were in the company of others so it was quite strange.

Hours later, The princess was making her way to the garden when she saw anakin already sitting on the bench facing the small fountain. He was sitting alone, just staring off into the distance in thought. Something was wrong with him but she had no clue what.

She watched him from afar for a few moments before slowly walking up behind him. He felt her presence and slightly straighten himself and focusing his eyes. She sat beside him, not saying a word.

"Anakin.." she spoke quietly.

"Yes milady?" He answered, not making eye contact.

"I told you to call me by my name." She urged once more like she did often.

"I know, I'm sorry..Y/n.." He said as he looked at her finally.

She looked back at him, his eyes had a tinge of sadness and longing. The blue eyes that were usually bright, and welcoming, were now dull, and lost.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked in a curious tone.

"Of course,"

"Whats going on is your mind?" She blurted out.

He wasn't very shocked, only slightly surprised at how she asked. His eyes looked away, back at the piece of grass he was fidgeting with. "I told you earlier, nothing. I'm fine"

"Anakin-" She started before he cut her off, "Y/n, i said I'm fine. Please drop it." He said in a firm voice.

He had only spoken like this to people who had been disrespectful or rude to her, but had never actually used it on her. Her eyes widened slightly as she watched him, the expression on his face was one she hadn't seen, he looked lost.

Days went by and Anakin's attitude remained the same. The princess felt hopeless, watching the man she secretly loved look so deep in despair. The feeling to hold, and comfort him got stronger each day, making it hard not to ask what was troubling him.

The both of them found themselves in the library late that night, sitting across from each other while reading books. Little did anakin know, the princess had put her book down a while ago, now she was just staring, admiring him.

He felt her gaze on him and looked up, meeting her curious eyes. "Yes?" He asked with a soft chuckle. That was the first happy emotion he'd shown in a few days, it warmed her heart to hear. "Sorry.." she said, cheeks tinting with a pink shade.

"Everything alright?" He asked, "No.." she answered. "No? What's bothering you?" He said, placing him book down. "You. The way you've been so detached lately." She told him honestly.

He sat up straight at the confrontation, clearing his throat and becoming stand off-ish again. "I haven't been-"

"Yes you have, anakin!" She interrupted, "You've been talking to me like I'm my parents, you've been less talkative, you have no emotions other than sad, and you haven't been the Anakin i like to be around. She ranted.

He didn't speak for a few moments, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "It was the anniversary." He said simply, she looked at him with a confused looked, "Two days ago was the anniversary of my mom's death."

Her heart sank. How could she have forgotten. "Anakin im s-" "Don't be. I'm fine." He said looking down. "Anakin, I'm sorry. I..I forgot. I'm sorry I've been pestering you, I just- i didn't understand why you didn't want to be around me." She told him, hoping he'd look at her.

It was silent. Awkward, and silent.

"That day...that day I did terrible things because I let my emotions take over me and i-" He took a breath, "I don't want to let them take over again." He continued.

"Is that why you've been so distant?" She asked softly, he nodded in response. "I was afraid. Afraid I might breakdown." He confessed.

"Anakin you could've-" "I can't be weak in front of you, y/n. I just can't." He said firmly, looking up at her for a moment before looking back down to hide his glassy eyes.

"Being weak around you means letting you in farther, any time that happens...I lose them." He stood up and started to walk towards the door. She stood after and rushed towards him, gently grabbing his first to stop him, "anakin, don't leave. Please.." he stopped for a moment, glancing at her over his shoulder before turning away again.

"Anakin please, talk to me...you can be vulnerable, it's normal." She told him with hope in her eyes. "Im not supposed to be weak-" "it's not weak, anakin!" She interrupted "Being vulnerable is a brave thing to do, meaning you're strong. So please...just open up." She pleaded, voice cracking like the crackle of the candles lighting the library.

"I have to go, Princess." He said firmly before pulling his arm away and walking to his chambers.

First post in a whileeee and I'm so sorry!!

Have had this brewing for a few days now

This is the first part of this story BTW!

I HATE the fact that i used y/n multiple times but also hated saying princess repeatedly so 🤷‍♀️

Also happy early valentines day!

@saradika for the dividers!

[hummingbird24220]

Not super Nsfw but reader being really comfortable with nudity so they go skinny dipping and Sanji is a horn dog about it as well as the other straw hats enjoying the view

(I'm trying to give nsfw requests but I need more guidance about what's allowed pls!)

Heellooo, i love nakey reader. yes yes yes.

Also NSFW - ANYTHING goes aside from non-consentual. I have a nun piece ill post so people can get the vibe. Literally, i will write anything.

Enjoy!

Beach Brains

Various!OnePiece x Reader

Slight NSFW - Naked reader - Boobs mentioned ooOooo

---

The sun was relentless, high in the sky and blazing down on the Straw Hat Pirates as they anchored off a quiet, deserted island. The crew had been sailing for days, and when Nami spotted the lush green trees and glistening waters, she didn’t need to say anything—Luffy shouted “ISLAND!” and that was all the decision-making necessary.

Everyone dispersed the moment the Sunny touched land. Some went off to gather fruit, others to nap in the shade. You?

You went straight for the water.

Without hesitation.

And without clothes.

“Y/N… ARE YOU—?!” Usopp nearly choked on his spit as you tugged your shirt over your head and kicked off your shoes like you were just shedding sand, not every article of clothing.

“Oh,” you said casually, stepping out of your pants, “It’s too hot for all this. You guys should try it.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You ran, full tilt, into the crystalline ocean and dove in, resurfacing with a pleased sigh and your hair slicked back like some sun-kissed sea nymph. Water glistened on your bare skin as you stretched, completely unbothered by the dozen eyes glued to you from the shore.

“…N-Naked,” Sanji whispered, already nosebleeding from the shadows of the palm trees.

“Wow,” Luffy blinked, “Y/N’s really shiny.”

“Why are you all acting like you’ve never seen a body before?” you called from the water, flipping onto your back, arms lazily sculling the waves. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just skin.”

“It’s your skin!” Sanji wailed, dramatically collapsing into a kneel in the sand. “A vision! A blessing! My pure chef’s heart cannot handle such divine beauty without seasoning—!”

“Calm down, Ero-cook,” Zoro muttered, one eye opening from where he was resting against a rock. He did glance your way, though. For several seconds too long.

Nami snorted from beside Robin. “I mean, they’ve got a point. It’s hot as hell. And Y/N looks like they’re living their best life.”

“Indeed,” Robin added with a serene smile, resting her chin in her hand as she watched you glide through the water like you belonged to it. “They’re quite comfortable in their skin. Admirable.”

Brook practically had hearts in his empty eye sockets. “May I see your—?”

“NO!” the crew yelled in unison.

Meanwhile, Franky and Chopper had wandered back from foraging and both immediately froze at the sight of you.

“SUPERRRRRRR—!!!” Franky yelled, striking a pose that conveniently blocked Chopper’s eyes.

You popped up again, grinning as you waved. “Water’s amazing! Come on in! Clothes optional!”

Sanji was already halfway to stripping when Zoro bodily tackled him into the sand.

“This,” Zoro growled, “is how people get arrested.”

“There’s no laws on this island!” Sanji shouted back, muffled by sand and humiliation.

From the water, you just laughed and floated lazily, sun warming your face, blissfully unbothered by the chaos you'd stirred behind you.

You’d stayed in the water for a while, letting the sun and salt wrap around you like a second skin. Floating, drifting, dipping beneath the surface and emerging like something out of a painter’s daydream. You didn’t even notice the effect it was having on the crew—or, rather, you did.

You just didn’t care.

Eventually, you wandered back toward shore, water droplets cascading down your skin, hair clinging wet and wild around your face. You walked up like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sanji was sitting with a towel draped over his lap and his face flushed so red he looked ready to combust.

“Ah—! Y/N-swan, p-please! Let me—! At least let me offer you this towel! No—wait—maybe a robe? A curtain? My jacket? My life?!”

You plucked the towel from his trembling hands and wiped your face. “Thanks, Sanji.”

He passed out on the spot.

“Idiot,” Zoro muttered, still watching from beneath the brim of his bandana. His eyes definitely weren't glued to the way water dripped down your spine as you turned.

“Want me to wring my hair out next to you?” you teased.

Zoro blinked. “...I didn’t say anything.”

You smirked.

Nami, fanning herself with a palm leaf, rolled her eyes. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Just being comfortable,” you said with a shrug, tossing the towel over your shoulder and letting the breeze cool your bare skin. “You all can wear clothes if you want. I’m not stopping you.”

Robin giggled softly behind a book she hadn’t turned a page in for ten minutes. “You’re causing more tension than a government bounty.”

Chopper was still hiding behind Franky’s arm, though every now and then he peeked and immediately shrieked, “I’m sorry!! I didn’t mean to look!!”

Usopp had climbed a tree “for lookout duty” and somehow managed to get stuck when his foot wedged into a knot in the trunk—completely coincidental that it gave him a bird’s eye view of you sunbathing on a towel with absolutely nothing on.

Luffy, sitting on a rock and chewing a mango pit, tilted his head. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Yeah, Captain?”

“Why don’t more people just go around like that?”

You stretched, arms over your head, not even blinking. “Dunno. Shame, maybe. Fear. But bodies are just bodies. I don’t have time to be embarrassed about something I was born with.”

Luffy grinned wide. “That’s awesome.”

Sanji, from the ground, mumbled, “I’m in heaven… or hell… definitely dying…”

“Pervert,” Nami muttered, throwing a mango at him.

But you? You just lay back on your towel, soaking in the sun, skin bare and golden, the breeze your only outfit.

And every single Straw Hat had to deal with the fact that you were either going to drive them to madness... or enlightenment.

The sun was dipping low, casting gold over the ocean like it was being poured straight from the sky. The water lapped gently at the shore, peaceful and warm, and the crew had finally stopped pretending they weren’t watching you. Most had just given up.

Nami was tanning. Robin was sipping something suspicious. Zoro had fallen asleep again, arms crossed over his chest like a cryptid. Usopp was pretending to clean his slingshot for the fifth time that hour. And Sanji? Sanji had reached a spiritual plane of nosebleeds and emotional instability.

And there you were—still naked, chest-deep in the surf, laughing your ass off as Luffy waded in up to his knees.

He couldn’t go further. Devil Fruit. Sea = death. But that didn’t stop him from participating in your latest stroke of brilliance.

“Okay, hold still!” Luffy shouted, holding up two seashells—each larger than his hand.

“Luffy, what are you doing?” you said through a giggle, already knowing full well what he was doing.

“You need a costume! It’s like camouflage!” He slapped the shells onto your chest with a sound that could only be described as wet clack.

“They’re not even symmetrical,” you pointed out, raising a brow.

“Yeah, but it’s funny!” he snorted, sticking a tongue out.

“Great,” you grinned, “now I’m mermaid-core.”

Sanji, from the sand, looked like he was about to die. “SHELLS?! SHELLS?!? ON HER DIVINE BODY?! WHO ALLOWED THIS?!”

“Don’t forget the seaweed!” Luffy added, holding up a long, slimy strand with all the grace of a drunk octopus.

“Oh my god,” you said, but you turned around anyway, letting him drape it across your ass like a seaweed sarong. “Am I beautiful yet, Captain?”

“You’re the hottest sea monster I’ve ever seen!” Luffy laughed so hard he almost fell into the water—and had to flail backward onto the beach.

Sanji, on the other hand, was crawling in the sand like he’d just seen the face of a god. “Please… please let me be the seaweed…”

“Back off, perv!” you called, striking a ridiculous pose. “This is haute couture. Luffy and I are revolutionizing fashion!”

“I call it Boob Armor Deluxe,” Luffy shouted proudly.

“Trademarked.”

“I’m putting this in the logbook,” Usopp said, deadpan, “as the moment the crew finally broke.”

Franky had already put on goggles and was sketching blueprints for a new “Seashell Suit Mk. III.”

Robin, as always, was serene. “This is exactly what I expected to happen.”

Sanji staggered to his feet, arms raised to the sky. “I don’t know whether to cry or thank the heavens. But I will paint this from memory.”

“Better memory than your cooking,” Zoro muttered, still half-asleep.

You splashed toward the shore, still wrapped in your seaweed fashion disaster, laughing until your stomach hurt. You flopped down next to Luffy, both of you soaked and glowing in the dying light.

“You know,” you said, grinning at him as he picked a crab out of your hair, “we’d make terrible mermaids.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “but we make awesome pirates.”

[talaok]

A new lesson

Pairing: step-dad!Joel miller x step-daughter!reader

Summary: Your step-dad generously offers to give you another lesson. (this is part of a series but can be read alone)

Warnings: step-incest, manipulation, straight-out lying, hence dub-con, Perv!Joel, predatory behavior, very very naive and innocent reader |Smut| oral sex ( m receiving), face-fucking, dacryphilia, and daddy-kink. And please for the love of god read the warnings and just scroll if you don’t like what you see.

a/n: @thesummerpetrichor I believe we had an agreement…

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4

He'd been obsessively looking at those photos he'd taken of you yesterday every time he could.

It didn't matter if he was at work, or if his wife was right next to him, he needed to take a look at that pretty pussy of yours or he felt like he was gonna go crazy.

He'd always known that once he got a taste of it, it would never be enough, and yesterday just proved him right.

He was so lost in the picture on his screen that your mom's voice startled him.

"what have you been doing on there for 20 minutes?"

Shit

"nothing" he shrugged, quickly switching apps "Just work stuff"

"you sure?" she raised a brow, smiling "There's not another woman I should be worried about?" she joked

Only your daughter

"never" he forced a grin, leaning closer to her on the couch to kiss her.

"good" she nodded, patting his thigh "I'll go shower more serenely then"

He watched as she stood from the couch, and waited until he heard the water running before he quickly made his way to the only place he'd been wanting to go since he came home: your room.

His dick was already hard, so what better time for another lesson?

"Oh, hi daddy" you smiled at him as he closed the door behind him, noticing how he locked it.

You were sitting on your pink bed, resting your back against the headboard while you read a book. A big t-shirt draped over your body and some soft pajama shorts underneath it.

"hi sweetheart" he smirked

"do you need something?"

"no baby, but it's time for another lesson"

He watched you frown in confusion

"but mom's home... and you said you couldn't help me when mom was home"

"I know what I said" he nodded annoyed at your sudden need to ask questions "but I was feeling generous and I wanted to help you now." he explained "If you don't want my help anymore you can just say s-"

And just as he'd predicted, you interrupted him before he could even finish that sentence.

"No, of course I want your help daddy"

"good" he nodded "then come here"

You obliged immediately, setting your book to the side on the bed and standing up to walk over to him.

"take off your shirt" he said once you were right before him.

You did as told, observing his eyes fall to your naked tits, just for his hands to reach them, feeling them as his thumbs played with your perked nipples.

"you've got pretty tits sweetheart"

"t-thank you" you blushed, your eyes falling to where he was touching you.

"Today is gonna be different from last time" he explained softly 

"ok" you murmured

Oh how he loved how small your voice got every time

"get on your knees"

Once again, you obeyed.

He looked even bigger from down there, and you felt even smaller.

"now undo my belt and lower my pants"

You swallowed nervously, looking up at him

"go on" he urged

So you did. You took care of his belt, then of his zipper, and then as he said, you lowered his jeans, and they fell, pooling at his feet.

What was now in front of you, was the perfectly clear shape of his dick, hidden only by a pair of thin black boxers.

"take them off"

your fingers seeped through the waistband, and slowly, you took them off for him.

You still hadn't gotten used to it. He was just so big,

how did all of that even fit inside of me?

no wonder I'm sore.

"w-what do I do?" you asked, looking up at him with those innocent eyes of yours.

"spit on your hand, and then just like last time, wrap it around my cock"

You hesitated a moment, before bringing your hand to your lips and summoning some spit from your dry mouth.

You were so nervous your hand was almost shaking as it wrapped around him, and it might have had something to do with his expecting eyes looking down on you.

Your thumb didn't even reach the rest of your fingers, that's how fucking thick he was.

"up and down, like last time" he instructed, clearly getting impatient.

"l-like this?" you asked, gently stroking him.

"just like that baby" he breathed, his hips pushing forward a bit "Now use your mouth"

You tried to swallow some of the sand in your mouth, but all you could think of was how fucking huge he was and how he was never ever gonna fit, and how he was gonna be disappointed of you and-

"We don't have all day sweetie" he murmured 

"I-I'm sorry daddy, it's just that... I- I don't know if it's gonna fit"

He stifled a smile as he answered

"we're gonna make it fit sugar, don't you worry your pretty little head about it" he cooed, seeing some of the concern melt from your eyes "Now be good and suck my cock"

You nodded obediently, and just as he'd taught you last time, you widened your mouth and took him in, or better, you took his tip in.

"you can do better than that" he tilted his head, "go deeper"

So you did, you forced him more and more into your mouth until it was halfway in.

Your hands on his thighs balled into fists, and your face started to redden.

"breathe through your nose" he instructed, watching you do it "and hollow your cheeks for me, baby"

You did as told, and a loud breath fled his mouth.

"good girl" he whispered, making that weird feeling in your belly rise all over again.

"now- just like you did with your hand, go up and down"

Your mouth felt already incredibly full, but somehow, as you started bobbing your head, more and more of him started fitting inside of it.

"that's it" he groaned, his right hand moving some hair out of your face and fisting them in a makeshift bun at the back of your head.

You internally smiled at that, and you got so focused on trying to do even better that your eyes fell down to his groin.

"No look at me" he corrected you, using his leverage on your head to pull it back so your eyes were on his again "You look at me when you're sucking my cock"

You blinked in surprise, but before you could say anything he'd told you to "go on" and so of course, you did.

Up and down 

up and down

always fitting a tad more

"fuck" he murmured, trying to remind himself that he couldn't show you just how good you were making him feel, but fuck but that was a whole lot

Either he was an amazing teacher, or you were a natural. 

"A-am I doing good?" you asked, leaning away, while you tried to catch your breath.

"yeah baby" he breathed, seeing that need for reassurance in your iris

"really?" your eyes lighted up, as a huge smile spread on your lips

"yeah" he cut it short "but sweetie... less talking and more sucking"

"o-oh, right" You let out a soft laugh, slowly taking him back in, but before you could get back to your old rhythm, his hand at the back of your head, had pushed his cock all the way down your throat, making you gag and cough like a maniac.

Your eyes watered, and tears started flowing from your eyes as you looked up at him, confused and a little scared

But all you could see in his eyes was fun.

You looked so pretty choking on his cock...

"it's ok" he murmured, gripping your hair to guide your head up and down like he wanted, "just-" he forced you to gag on him again.

You looked up at him pleadingly as your hands tried to reach where he was holding your hair to try and get him to let go of you without succeding.

"fuck, that's good" he groaned, finally letting you go

You broke into a coughing fit, trying to get your lungs to work normally again, but he didn't even budge, actually, he was sadistically enjoying it.

"wh-why did you do that daddy?" you whimpered, sniffling

"oh baby" he murmured, "If you want Chad to make love to you you're gonna have to learn how to do that" he explained, stroking your wet cheek " Plus, I did it to prepare you for what we're gonna do next"

Your eyes widened slightly

"w-what are we gonna do?"

A grin pulled at his lips

"Now, darlin'," he spoke, "I'm gonna fuck that pretty throat of yours"

"Wha- I"

"shh" he shushed you, placing his thumb on your lips "it's ok" he calmed you down "Relax baby, I'm here, I'm only trying to help you"

"I know but-"

"But what?" he asked, frowning as he looked down at you.

"nothing" you immediately took it back.

"that's right" he nodded "Now open your mouth and stick your tongue out f'me"

And the moment you did... the moment you did, he realized he wasn't gonna last long

"You gotta stay like that ok, you don't wanna hurt daddy, do you?"

"uh-uh" you shook your head, your mouth still open 

"such a good girl" he smiled, before gently, (a gentleness that was gonna be forgotten in seconds) he placed a hand on the back of your head, and trusted his hips forward, making you gag softly.

"shit" he breathed, and then, as if he got possessed, he started going faster, and then faster, and then faster again until rivers were flowing from your eyes and the room filled with the filthy noise of your abused thoat.

"f-fuck" he groaned, forcing your head all the way down so that your nose was almost touching his crotch "Look at you... so fucking pretty like this"

You only had the time to remind yourself to breathe through your nose, and then he was already starting to push in and out of your mouth just like he'd done last time but down there.

You enjoyed seeing him breathe heavily and groan in pleasure because of you, so much so that your panties were drenched... but god it was hard to do as he asked.

"choking on my cock like a good little girl" he hissed, his hold on your head only tightening and his thrusts only fastening "Being so good f'me" he groaned "Always so good"

Your jaw was starting to hurt too much, and you just needed a little break, but the moment you tried to speak he stopped you.

"not now" he spoke, his voice hoarse and filled with pleasure "I'm about to cum baby" he explained, "you know what that means?"

You shook your head, eyes wider than ever.

"it means I'm gonna cum in your mouth" he breathed "and you're gonna swallow every single drop of what I give you," 

His chest was heaving, and you didn't think you'd ever seen him that blissed out

"but not until I say so, ok?"

"mh-mh" you hummed around his cock

"attagirl" he bit down his lower lips, trying to keep his grunts and groans down as much as he could "such a good, fucking, girl- fuck"

And looking down at you, ruined completely for him, he couldn't help but let go, filling your mouth up, until you were choking on the liquid and his cock combined.

He pulled out, his dick softening and his breathing calming down.

"show me" he ordered,

You widened your mouth even more and showed off its contents to him 

His hand grubbed your chin, tilting your head up more to him, as his fingers kept your mouth open.

His eyes were fully dark with lust as he grinned, stroking your bottom lip.

"Now swallow"

Your eyes never left his as you ingested his salty spent, and the moment you did, his dick threatened to harden again.

Fuck, he should have taken a picture

"good girl, now c'mere" he gestured, inviting you to stand up, which you gladly agreed to

Your knees were killing you.

He tucked himself back into his boxers and put on his pants again, while you stumbled to your feet.

"H-how did I do?" you asked, as he busied his thumb by caressing your pretty lips.

They were all puffy, just like his eyes, and the pleasure he got knowing that he was the reason for it, was unimaginable.

"you did good" he said, making you smile "But not that good" he cooed, lying through his teeth. he honestly didn't think he'd ever come that hard from just a blowjob, " If you want Chad to want to do this, you're gonna have to get better at it"

"o-oh"

"yeah" he winced, faux empathy tracing his tone "you really need some practice" he explained "so I think it's best if we do this once a day at least"

Your eyes widened in surprise

"Once a day?"

"at least" 

"y-you'd do that for me?"

"Of course baby" he smiled, before leaving a quick kiss on your lips "what kind of step dad would i be if i didn't help you?"

And at that, you couldn't help but hug him, intertwining your hands behind his neck.

"How are you feeling?" he murmured to your ear, kissing you neck, and forcing a whimper out of your mouth.

"M-my throat's a little sore"

He smirked, softly chuckling "That's normal sweetie, but what I meant was..." he explained, his right hand traveling lower on your body until he was cupping your clothed pussy "how are you feeling here?"

You moaned softly "I-I feel tingly, like last time"

"mhh, that's good" he hummed, inhaling your scent "that's real good sugar, but we don't have time for me to take care of you, so here's what we're gonna do" he said, leaning away, until you were eye to eye "I want you to take one of your pillows and hump it for me"

"h-hump it?"

"yeah sweetheart, hump it until come"

"I-I-"

"it's ok" he stroked your cheek "It's just me"

"Y-you right" You nodded

"that's my girl" he kissed you "and while you hump it real good, I want you to film yourself, and then send it to me ok?"

"why?" you frowned, a little bit confused

Again with the questions

"Because I need to know if you did it right"

Your mouth parted at that, as the realization hit you

He was just too nice

"of course" you smiled "thank you so much daddy"

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Harlequin AU - "Stalemate" (canon, fic)

This is a wip art! It will be updated in the future.

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

One step.

Leather shoes made their way on uneven grounds.

The crinkling of glass underneath the soles made their way prominent to the stepper’s ears, but she couldn’t care less.

This was the last known location of the man she’d been tracking for a while now. And this is the moment of truth. Did she still got it? Or will she fall as a trophy on a mantle?

Time to find out.

Squeaks of a rusty metal gate aired out into the open, gathering the attention of a few unwanted pests. But in quick succession, they were no more, swiftly falling prey to the sharp blade of the Puppet. There was not even a chance for them to strike.

Satisfied with her work, she straddles into the grounds of the mansion. First, the gardens.

One could say it was a serene scene, but for her it was a mere distraction. Unimportant. Simply delaying the inevitable.

She steps out into the lush open grass of the area. A huge empty space filled with nothing but prickly green underneath the blue hues of the night. She found amusement in the fact that there’s a chance she can ruin this place once she meets her opponent.

A lone, mossy fountain sat on the front. Not interesting.

She makes her way onto the stairs of the mansion entrance. Each step fills her with more vigor, excitement coursing through her being. The giant, elegant oak door groaned in protest as she pushed it open.

Empty.

No matter, there were many rooms.

She quickly hears the puttering sound of rotor blades spinning, and she looks to her right, finding a mini-blimp with a literal sharp smile, and a vacant expression on it’s glossy eyes.

“Hellloooooo,” it said, dragging the last syllable playfully, “Can I help you with anything?” The blimp asked with not a care in the world.

“I’m looking for someone.” The Puppet claims, pulling out a parchment of a wanted poster. It was useless to waste her energy on this… creature. So she will entertain it’s questions for now.

“Oh! You’re looking for the boss! I’ll lead you to him!” The blimp confirms her suspicions.

He was in this place, and she’d successfully tracked her target down. Now all that was needed was proof of her soon-to-be victory. It was only by a few rooms that she’d found him.

But the sight wasn’t as grand as she envisioned.

She expected a confident, prideful, and powerful fighter….

NOT whatever this mess who’s currently laying on the ground and leaning deactivated against an office desk was. WHAT THE FUCK.

Did she seriously come all this way for nothing?! She felt a little furious, and she redirected her burning gaze onto the blimp, grasping tightly onto the sword and pointing it’s sharp end with malice. The Blimp did not seem to react at her wordless threat at all, still flashing a sharp smile as it slowly turned to face her.

“EXPLAIN.” She demanded. “HE CAN’T BE ALREADY DEACTIVATED.”

“Oh, this is just something that happens allllll the time. Give him a little time.” The Blimp answered, and turned it’s attention back to 'the boss'. She kicked a leg, no response.

“Let me try!” The Blimp says, and with a clearing of it’s throat, it shouts. “BOSS! Someone’s here to see you!”

And in an instant, the exposed chest of the man lit up in two separate hues, and he sits up straight as if plunged underwater for long.

“GAH! WHA- WHO IS IT!” He yelps in surprise, holding a glass bottle by it’s neck as if ready to throw. His shocked gaze soon falls on…. To the Harlequin, who unveils her tattered covers protecting her from outside elements, and reveals her face.

“Puppetmaster. I’ve come to challenge you.”

He blinks a couple of times with wide eyes, and his stare keeps shifting from the blimp, to her, and then repeat. After a while, his gaze falters and an unimpressed groan escapes the strange Puppet across from her. “Not again…” He mutters under his breath. "Bubble, what did I tell you about letting people you don't know in?"

...Not again?

“Wh- What do you mean “not again”- This is the FIRST time I’ve come here!” She replied, and the Puppetmaster only crosses his arms as soon as he manages to get up on two feet.

“And it certainly won’t be the LAST, I see.” He shuffles away, the metal cane tapping to the marble ground with each step he took, and the Harlequin is left utterly confused. She grumpily follows him to the main lounge, ready to demand once more.

“Are you fucking deaf or what? I said I’ve come to challenge you!”

“Not interested.” He feels around in a bookshelf, pulling out a rather large tome. He opens it and retrieves a bottle full of liquid.

He was really testing her patience, huh?

As soon as he turns around, The Harlequin makes quick work of slicing the bottle in half just to show how serious she is. The glass quickly detaches, and the liquid spills onto the floor, leaving the Puppetmaster with an unamused, disappointed stare.

“.... That was the last of it’s kind, by the way. You just killed off one of my favorite drinks” He replies with a hint of unserious humor, and it makes her teeth grit in frustration.

“I AM NOT LEAVING THIS PLACE UNTIL I GET WHAT I FUCKING CAME FOR!” She angrily responds. “So you either stop with your shit and fight me, OR ELSE.” She points the sword straight at his core, and the pair of dentures simply rolls his eye to the side, and pushes the blade away.

“Hmm. You know, for a moment, I really thought you were different.” He drops to the floor and detaches a tile after tapping at a seemingly hollow tile with the cane, revealing yet another hidden compartment full of unknown bottles. He sticks his tongue out a little as he reaches for them, but as soon as one was retrieved, The Harlequin repeats the same action as before, as well as shattering the other bottles within.

He blinks once, then twice. “Can you stop wasting the only thing that’s keeping me from jumping off of the deep end, pretty please?” He pleads, but it’s completely devoid of sincerity.

She growls, and grabs his collar. He is slightly surprised, but quickly goes back to his uncaring attitude while staring at her grip. “Umm… Normally I would not mind the touch, but you’re wrinkling my shirt.” His carefree attitude was picking at her nerves, and she bares her sharp teeth at him. His eyes widen a little, but it’s clearly not from fear.

He shakes it off, and squints at her humorlessly, unfazed by the threat.

“I am not repeating myself again, Puppetmaster. FIGHT. ME.” There’s a surprising yet subtle hint of desperation in her tone, but it was heavily masked by her aggressive tone and he finds himself disgruntled at his own thoughts.

He sighs.

“I don’t see a point in accepting that offer from a rookie like you, who doesn’t seem to know what fights they wanna pick… But fine.” He relents, “I’ll entertain you a little. I’d rather not cause more mess than usual for my little helper, though. All I ask is that we pick a different location.”

She was a little insulted at the term he had called her. But she swallowed her pride down in favor of the fact that he was finally agreeing to the duel. “Very well then.” She lets go of the collar. “I’m fine with any location of your choosing.”

“Much appreciated, dear. I know an abandoned circus arena that is ideal for this.” He taps his cane to the ground, in contemplation.

“In fact… I think you might like it as much as I do.”

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

It wasn’t the walk towards this “arena” that was agonizing.

But rather the wait she had to comply with if she wanted his participation. Nonetheless, he parts the curtains that cover the entrance, but she only crosses her arms and taps her foot. She was antsy, and his stare was questioning.

“You… won’t go first?”

“Why would I? You’re leading the way.” She replies in clear annoyance.

His gaze shifts to the entrance, trying not to be bothered about this as he makes his way inside. As soon as the Harlequin makes her way inside, spotlights let out a loud click as they all simultaneously turn on, all shining at the sand-filled arena slightly damaged by time… or something else entirely.

There’s a little prickling feeling that settles in her chest, and she can sense her core thrum in dissonance. But she doesn’t understand it, so naturally, she shrugs it off as if it never existed.

The Puppetmaster has had his back turned against her all this time. His head hung low, as if staring into the very ground. But she simply clutches at her sword with her left arm, the grip making a loud metallic clunk. He taps his cane to the ground, and it echoes throughout the tent despite the consistency of the very plane they stand on.

“Are you ready?” His voice, despite them being meters apart, is loud, bold and clear.

She grips her sword harder, unsheathing a little. Her right feet drags across the ground, an obvious stance of preparation before the action.

His eyes are hidden, depriving her of reading his full intent once he turns to face his opponent. Nonetheless, she squints, wordlessly giving him her answer.

The cane taps onto the ground yet again, and she rushes like a cobra. There’s a faint hum of voices in the background but she can’t decipher it.

Distractions.

That was all it is.

And a fighter does NOT get distracted.

She unsheathes the sword fully, ready to lunge as soon as she was close enough. A battle cry escapes her as she swings at the sudden cloud of dust that appeared in front of her.

“Slow.”

He easily avoids the swing, and she barely has a second to react at the speed of his movements, finding herself stumbling. Utterly confused, she quickly turns around to face where he had gone. He was now in the middle of the arena, side-eyeing her with interest that she interprets as complete mockery. 

She clutches the sword with both hands and another battle scream erupts from her. He grips at his cane harder, eyes once more hidden as his jaws snap shut in focus. She leaps into the air to bring down a hard slash, but his cane blocks her attempt, and it results in sparks flying from the exertion of force between both parties.

The Puppetmaster quickly ends this standstill by pushing her back, making her feet drag across the ground from the force by a mile.

“...Yet adept form.” He comments, squinting his eyes at her.

She wipes away at her face, just in case. Her posture straightens in confusion, but it is quickly taken over by anger. “YOU ASSHAT, STOP OBSERVING ME AND FIGHT!” a complain, but her expression changes to confusion once more as he disappears in a cloud of dust from her sight.

Where the FUCK did he go NOW?!

His form appears out of nowhere. Looming over. His eyes are devoid of pupils, and for a moment, she finds herself stuttering.

“H-HOLD ON W-WA-WAIT JUST A SECOND!”

There was no time for waiting in a duel of course, but it slipped from her mouth before she could even think about it fully. She could only assume that he was disorienting her, and it was working effectively.

His cane twirls on his hand, and he uses the other end of the metal rod to push her to bend backwards, just to avoid the flaring poke of electricity surging through the cane. There was no time for the Harlequin to get back up, and she cursed herself for making rookie mistakes, and proving his words right.

What was wrong with her today, of all days?

He sweeps her legs, knocking her off-balance down to the ground, but her athletic build allowed for a very quick recovery, and she was back to steadying her stance again.

“Fascinating. What an impressive reflex. You have a fast recovery.” 

The Puppetmaster seems to be taking notes of her actions, and it was then that she realizes he was simply toying with her.

“Maybe this could work… Hm.”

Her sword drops to the ground a loud clank, which forces his gaze to look up at her. But it was too late.

A very hard kick met his face and he barely had the reaction time for it. He could feel the blow produce a gust of wind as he flew to the old safety bleachers (much to it’s destruction), and a loud crack permeated the air as one of his teeth flew off and broke in half.

A heavy cloud of yellow dust hid him from the view of the fuming Harlequin.

He rises up, seemingly unaffected until he reaches to check at the loss of a denticle. A black substance covered his gloves’ fingertips. His gaze once more lands on the Harlequin, who is now emitting visible hot steam from her body, breathing heavily as her eyes shone brightly with the intent of murder.

“I’ve HAD it up to HERE, with your STUPID ANTICS!” She stepped a foot onto the ground, and the cement underneath the sand crumbled. The lights slowly flickered in response, and his eyes widens in alert.

Uh oh. This was not good. The fight needs to be ended as fast as possible now.

“I suppose I should’ve been paying more attention to a duel.” He clutches at his cane for support as he stands up undamaged (besides the lost tooth), but lets go of it as soon as it’s job is complete.

If she won’t possess a weapon, then it wouldn’t be right for him to possess his either.

Both of them rushed at each other in high feats of speed, and a small crater was created as a proof of the intensity of the hit. When the Harlequin would deliver a punch, a dense gust of wind would be produced as the Puppetmaster blocked each time.

There was now more steam emitting from her body, and the clock was ticking. He had no choice.

With a revenge kick to her torso that she blocks with both arms, he sends her flying to where she had previously dropped her sword, as he rushes to his own “weapon” of choice too. 

She grabbed at the sword and rushed.

He grabbed his cane and did the same.

The speed executed between both parties was unmatched, and a heavy cloud was produced for the last time in the middle of the arena as both fighters collided their weapons.

Their gazes were intense, the Harlequin smiling when she pointed her sword directly at his core. But the blue light emitting from the Puppetmaster’s cane made her look down to where it was pointed.

It was also at her core.

Satisfied with the way the Harlequin stopped fighting out of slight confusion, he opts to explain the current situation.

“Now, you can pry open my core and deactivate me just as easily,” he starts. “... But if you so much as move the required centimeter to do so, the tip of my cane will touch your core which will shock your heart with the amount of electricity that can power 5 large cities.”

Her eyes widened.

“We’re both made of metal. How the fuck are you going to defend yourself from this?!”

“I won’t.”

It was a simple statement that made the Harlequin realize what he’s doing. “Do you have a shitty death wish or something? That’s crazy! There’s no way you can produce that much charge either, you’re just fucking bluffing!”

“Am I, now?” There was not a hint of humor nor sarcasm in his tone. He was dead serious.

She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t fucking believe it.

“We’re at a stalemate, dear.” She gripped the handle of her sword with much intensity, baring her teeth in frustration and denial.

“This fight is over.” He proclaims no winners, and the Harlequin begins to kick the remaining sand in the arena all around, throwing a temper tantrum.

“NO!” She shouted while gripping at her head, uncaring of the noise. “NO, NO, NO! THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO END THIS WAY! YOU CHEATED YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS, YOU-” Her joints stopped responding to her actions, and she finds herself kneeling onto the ground. Horror filled her entire system as she tried to decipher what’s happening, but before she knew it, All she could see now was the tattered, faded yellow-red stripes of the tent ceiling.

And then the view of his stupid dentures face came into her sight, and he was back to observing her again.

“You’re still functional, are you?”

“UNFORTUNATELY.” She grit her teeth.

“Hm.” An acknowledgement.

She could hear the way he takes a seat onto the ground beside her.

“You’re quite an odd one.”

“CAN YOU STOP TALKING.”

“Hm….” He contemplates. “No, I don’t think I will~.” There’s a smug pitch in his tone (that would’ve made a vein pop somewhere in her head if she was organic). “You’re the first sane Puppet I’ve talked to in a long while.”

… Was this somehow some kind of cruel punishment?

“Just let your body cool down and re-adjust for now. You really pushed yourself back there.” She couldn’t exactly tell what he was doing, but if the slightly muffled way of speaking was any indication, she could only assume he was checking his now missing tooth.

But that wasn’t what grabbed the Harlequin’s attention. Rather, she was slightly intrigued about how he knows what’s happened to her, when she didn’t.

“What are you even talking about? What’s happened to me?” She asked, temper slowly subsiding, although irritation was still present.

“What’s happened is that you accidentally began to overcharge yourself.” He was more than glad to explain. “Your body couldn’t keep up with the amount of energy spent, and now here you are, lying down on the ground.” He taps at the sand above her head with the golden sphere of his cane. “You also nearly overheated that you could’ve exploded your core. But you can’t feel that, can you?”

She sighs. “Of course I fucking don’t. I’m a Puppet. I don’t feel things, I just do things. At least that’s what I think I should be doing.”

There was a moment of silence between them, one that the Harlequin was more than glad to have. But almost as if being mocked by timing, this quiet was broken by the voice of Puppetmaster once more.

“What’s your directive.”

“Fight SOMETHING, I guess.”

“No.”

“What?”

“Tell me your FULL directive. I don’t want a summarized version.”

She sighs again. “FIND— FIGHT— PROTECT—- CITY—- FROM HARM.” There was a slight pause and a bit of glitching in her voice when she recited the blanks.

“…Well, I must say, this is quite the predicament.”

“Can you stop being so fucking cryptic and just tell me?!”

“... You’re broken.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“An incomplete line of command. It’s making you act on your own." He explains. "For shorter terms, you’re a loose cannon.” He mutters something else under his breath that the Harlequin couldn’t hear, and for a moment, there’s an unreadable tone with his delivery that she can’t decipher.

“Wha… what the hell does any of that mumbo jumbo even mean…” She would drag her hand across her face if she could right about now.

“Say, how would you feel about an alliance?”

“I feel like punching another one of your teeth out, that’s for sure.”

“I’m flattered, but also serious. You and I are quite possibly the only Puppets left sane here in this world. And I have an idea that I can only really do with YOUR help.”

“I’m not fucking interested in your passion project.”

“Your purpose seems to say otherwise.”

Her brow creases. “What, are you gonna say it involves fighting something?”

“Not just that. It’s also to protect this city from further harm.” Now that got her attention. She’s cautious, but in all honesty, also intrigued.

“We can discuss this even further once you’re all good to go. But for now…” He trails off as he stands up, and she can finally move a little bit of her joints on her fingers. Her body was seemingly cooling down to allow slight movements again.

“My name is Caine. Do you have a name?” For a moment, she senses a foreign bit of deja vu.

“... Just the code on my shoulder.”

“What is it?”

“P-1210.”

“Well, I can’t be calling you that. How about a proper one?”

“Whatever knocks your socks off, I guess.”

“ ‘Pomni’. What about ‘Pomni’. ”

There’s a response at her core that she couldn’t fully understand. But it seems that it wants her to agree.

“... Sure, I-I…I guess.”

“Pomni it is.”

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

[girlwithadragonheart]

2 ~ The Fool

Vi Et Animo (With Heart and Soul)

Vander x Fem!Reader

Summary: Adapting to your new life will take some time. Luckily, you have a friend to help you out.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Kids asking intrusive questions, teasing, swearing, suggestive comments toward reader, I think that’s it

A/N: Kind of a transition chapter, I tried to make it as interesting as possible for everyone involved XD

Chapter 1 Masterlist Chapter 3

Your eyes grew unfocused as you read over a student’s essay. You’d been sitting there for what felt like days grading papers and planning assignments.You’d scarcely had time for a break lately. The starry blue cloth covering your desk almost seemed to glow as your eyes crossed.

You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face as you sat back for a moment, letting your eyes drift to the domed ceiling. Various constellations were carved into it, all aligning with the sky above. 

Absently, you shuffled your cards between your two hands, watching them glide through your fingers, the sound doing something to soothe your weary mind. You continued until a card flew from the deck, landing crooked on your desk face down. Glancing at it, you tilted your head, wondering what your spirit guides found so urgent that you needed to hear it right that moment. 

Setting your deck to the side, you let your fingers hover over the single card before carefully flipping it over.

The Fool.

New beginnings, freedom, spontaneity, adventure.

The Fool depicts a youth walking joyfully into the world. He is taking his first steps, and he is exuberant, joyful, excited. He carries nothing with him except a small sack, caring nothing for the possible dangers that lie in his path. Indeed, he is soon to encounter the first of these possible dangers, for if he takes just a step more, he will topple over the cliff that he is reaching.

The Fool is a warning to not be naive to risks and to be aware of the path you’re treading.

In its upright position, it was the bright start of a new journey. When reversed, it was a warning that you were stepping too far beyond your path and it would lead to potential disaster. 

It had landed sideways. Perfectly neutral. 

Both a warning and a premonition. Urging you to be sure-footed and take your time on this path.

The waters were cold and dark if you plummeted to the depths, but they could also embrace you in the serenity of their stillness—the weightlessness provided a steady release from the heaviness on your shoulders, if you let them.

An assured knock landed on your door, and when you looked up, Lest was in front of you. Her ear twitched as she regarded your drawing.

“The cards giving you a hard time again?” She grinned mischievously.

You sighed, leaning back and gesturing to the card in front of you. “What do you think?” You asked.

She leaned over your desk, eyes darting over the card and its position. “Did it land that way?” She questioned. You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest. “Interesting…”

“That’s it?” You deadpanned. 

“What do you want me to say?” She stood up straight, raising a brow as she crossed her arms, mimicking your position. 

You sighed, letting your eyes close as you laid your head back against your chair. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “Am I doing the right thing?” You opened your eyes to peer at her as she took a drag from her pipe, the purple smoke drifting through the air. Her presence always calmed you as did her insight.

“Have you asked them?” She nodded to your card deck. “They’re the only ones who could even come close to telling you.”

-------------------------

You rolled over, and the sheets were cool beside you. Your eyes fluttered, but you didn’t open them yet, wanting to enjoy your time in bed before getting ready for work. 

When your lids finally pried apart, you were in an unfamiliar room with air that made your lungs tight and no light filtering through the windows. You sat up, trying not to panic as your eyes flitted around the room.

There was a door across from you and a curtain to your left. You looked down at yourself, seeing a massively baggy t-shirt twisted around your frame from the way you had slept, undoubtedly. It smelled faintly of smoke and leather, and the previous days’ events came flooding back to you.

The exile. The thieves. The hunger. You clutched your stomach as it growled—nowhere near the severity it had been—and noticed how thin you had gotten just in a few days without any source of nutrients.

And out of nowhere, Vander had found you and brought you back to his bar-slash-home, fed you, cleaned you up, and tended your wounds before offering you a place to sleep. Fucking weird thing to happen out of nowhere, but listen, after the hell you had been through, you would take what you could get.

Slowly, you pulled yourself out of bed, remaking the blanket behind you before carefully heading downstairs. You ran a hand through your hair, praying it wasn’t as messy as it felt.

The first thing you noticed was the smell of fried eggs. The second thing was a head of blue hair and a head of pink hair, sitting at the bar. Vander was behind it with a hotplate cooking the eggs you smelled.

He looked up with a half smile as a stair creaked beneath you. You froze, being caught peeping and tucked yourself half behind the corner as both girls turned to you. The younger one—-Powder, if you remembered right—-regarded you with wide eyes, a more curious stare. Whereas her sister, Violet, scowled, looking past you and up the stairs.

Most of the time, you would pride yourself on your interactions with children, but you weren’t from here, and they weren’t from Piltover. You knew there was bound to be some kind of lapse between you.

“Breakfast?” Vander asked, calling back your attention from the little ones. 

You smiled sheepishly and nodded as you finally made your way down the stairs to join them at the bar. You took a seat at the end of the bar, pulling on Vander’s shirt to try and cover as much of you as it could. Which—-while not surprising—-was a lot.

Vander started dishing out food and introduced you to the girls. “She’s going to be staying with us for a while, alright? So no funny business.” He pointed the wooden spatula at them each, eyeing them carefully as though he could already see their plans.

You couldn’t help the small smile that spread on your lips watching him. He slid a plate to you and you nodded in thanks, glancing away as he sent you a wink. You looked at the girls as they dug into their food and cleared your throat. 

“If you guys have any questions, I’ll try to answer them,” you told them.

Vi looked at you with half an egg shoved in her mouth, practically scowling, while Powder’s eyes darted between you and Vander.

“Are you really from up there?” Powder asked with wide eyes.

You glanced at Vander, and he just shrugged and nodded. “Yes, I’m from Piltover,” you told her. “I was a teacher.”

“Why did you come here?” She asked. “Did you want to visit?” You wished it could be explained with such child-like innocence. The truth was far darker.

“Nobody comes here because they want to, Powder.” Vi rolled her eyes. “What did you do to get kicked?” She questioned.

“Violet—” Vander scolded.

“No, it’s alright,” you assured him. “She’s right.” There was a flash of surprise in Vi’s gaze before it was quickly covered up again. “There was an accident, and the council needed someone to blame. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Not quite a lie. Not quite the truth. You weren’t really sure what the truth was anymore.

“So Vander saved you?” She eyed you suspiciously. “Is that why you’re wearing his clothes?”

“Mine needed a wash,” you shrugged a shoulder, starting to cut into your eggs. Vander chuckled as he cleared his own plate.

“Do you have any cool stuff from Piltover?” Powder asked excitedly.

Your thumb absentmindedly rubs the place your ring used to be. “No, sadly I was mugged the second I stepped foot here.”

Vi scoffed. “Typical. You Piltovians all think you’re better than us, but you couldn’t even take care of your own stuff.”

“Yeah, silly me for letting those four guys take me out,” you shrugged. “Get all your facts straight before throwing around accusations.”

There was a suspicious sound of a laugh hidden by a cough coming from where Vander was sitting. Vi looked at you with shock and disgust as though you had just struck her. Powder looked between you and her sister as you started calmly eating your breakfast.

“Speaking of,” Vander said. “Your clothes are clean.” He took his plate to the sink behind him, setting it down. “Think you can handle this lot while I go get them?” he asked.

You looked at the girls before turning back to him. “I think we’ll be alright.”

Vander nodded and made his way down the stairs. Powder eyed you curiously. “Do you have a family? Do you miss them?” She asked.

“I…” You thought back to your life in the glorious upper city. All the pomp and circumstance. Your classroom. Your students. “I had my students,” you tell her. “Not a traditional family, I suppose.”

“You said you were a teacher,” Vi stated. “Wasn’t it boring?”

You laughed. “No, not at all. Sometimes, I suppose, but mostly? Every day was an adventure. You hear all kinds of things. I mean, think about it, I worked with other teachers and a bunch of kids.” You dragged a hand through your hair.

“You must know loads of stories!” Powder exclaimed. “Can you tell us one?”

You glanced over, seeing Vander coming back up the stairs with your folded clothes. “Maybe another time, kiddo,” you smiled.

Vander came over to you, setting your clothes on the bar. “There ya go. I couldn’t get every stain out, but I did my best.” He scooped up yours and the girls’ plates, moving to the sink. “I’ll get this cleaned up while you get dressed. We’ll open up the bar after,” he told you.

Vi led her younger sister downstairs as you picked up your clothes and headed the other way. “Thank you, Vander,” You said as you left.

“Anytime, lass,” he responded before you were out of earshot.

You took your clothes upstairs, shutting the door and pulling Vander’s shirt off. You folded it carefully and left it on the bed for him. Picking up your dress, you ran the fabric between your fingers. It was familiar, albeit still stained with some loose threads. But it was soft, and it was almost all you had from your earlier life.

Slowly, you brought the cloth to your face and took a deep breath, letting your eyes close. It smelled faintly of tobacco, but other than that had no scent. It didn’t smell like grime and body odor anymore. But it also didn’t smell like your detergent. It didn’t smell like your perfume. It didn’t smell like home anymore.

You took a heavy seat on the edge of the bed, feeling your eyes tear up. Home. That was no home anymore. You rubbed your eyes furiously; This was not the time for a breakdown. You inhaled deeply, though unsteady, until the rising tide of your emotions had receded back to the gently rocking waves of the sea.

You slipped your dress over your head, moving to the bathroom to adjust it in the mirror. Gently running your fingers through your hair, you parted it the way you liked, starting to twist the strands into dutch braids to keep it out of your face. You secured it carefully before pushing them back over your shoulders and tugging on your dress, feeling almost comfortable again. 

Your gaze drifted, settling on your tarot deck on that little bathroom shelf. Your hands braced the sink, fingers itching to reach out and do a reading. You missed the feeling of the cards between your fingers. You were used to shuffling them idly between your hands as a way to distract your mind.

But what’s the point?

With a sigh, you flicked off the bathroom light, letting the curtain drift closed behind you as you made to leave. When you opened the door, a pair of boots rested on the stair in front of you. You stared at them for a moment, remembering what Vander had said last night. These must be Vi’s extra pair.

You sat down in the doorway, pulling the boots on. They were a bit snug, but surprisingly comfortable and broken in. At the very least, they were warm and would keep your feet from getting trampled by customers. You had to remember to thank her when you next got the chance.

When you got downstairs, Vander had finished pulling the chairs off the tables and was behind the bar, organizing the drinks below. He looked up as you entered. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you responded.

He chuckled. “You’ll be fine. Just… remember where you’re at,” he said carefully.

“Worried they won’t understand me if I use big words?” You joked.

“Yeah, yeah, you know what I mean.” He rolled his eyes, though his smile gave him away as he turned on the neon lights outside. He tossed you a worn apron, and you quickly tied it around you as you mapped out the bar to learn where things were.

-------------------------

Not even an hour in, the place was teeming with patrons. Vander had insisted it wouldn’t be too busy—just a “light evening”---but the roar of voices, clatter of tankards, and the occasional crash from a dropped glass said otherwise. You did your best to keep your stress levels down, reminding yourself you didn’t have to be perfect, you just had to get the job done. Everything would be fine. Hopefully.

You were balancing a tray of empty mugs, weaving between the raucous tables and trying to avoid bumping anyone as you walked, when a man barked at you from across the bar. “Oi lass! When are we getting more drinks over here?!” the man questioned, slamming his metal tankard down on the wood of his table.

You flinched from the sudden noise, one of the mugs on your tray tipping precariously. Your breath caught in your throat as you shifted, hand darting out to catch it and place it back on the tray carefully. You glared at the man, cursing under your breath as you hurried back to the bar. You dumped your tray down with a huff, your patience starting to wear thin as Vander prepared their drinks.

“Do they always yell like that?” You asked, resting against the counter with one hip popped.

“Only when they’re sober,” Vander replied, watching the drinks he made.

Your brows dropped and you gave him a dry look. “Oh, so this is normal?”

“Welcome to the Undercity, Princess,” he said, his smirk widening. “You learn to let it roll off. Comes with the territory.”

You crossed your arms on the bar as you waited for him to finish. “Well, I’m letting it roll off alright. Right into my mental list of people I’ll ‘accidentally’ spill drinks on.”

Vander chuckled, setting the bottles back under the counter, and finally looking at you. “Not sure you’ve the patience for this line of work.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “And miss the chance to work under you? Never.”

His smirk turned into a full laugh as you started putting their drinks on your tray. “Careful, or I’ll start thinking you like it here.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, old man.”

He put a hand over his chest in mock hurt, winking at you as you walked away to serve the men their drinks. You balanced the tray carefully as you weaved through the crowd of tables again. You smiled as you reached their table, setting their drinks down in front of them. 

“Sorry for the wait boys,” you said as you tucked the tray under your arm. “Is there anything else I can get you for the moment?” You asked. 

The boy closest to you couldn’t be more than nineteen, though the rest looked to be in their thirties. “I know something you can get us, love,” The older man across from him said. “Or rather somethin’ you can take,” he elbowed the guy beside him, snickering. “Our boy Tommy here still has his virginity!” The table howled with laughter, but the young boy looked rather uncomfortable.

You fought the roll of your eyes, shooting an apologetic glance to Tommy before leaving, finding they were too engaged in their own joke to address you anymore. You found an empty table, clearing the drinks off it and balancing the tray in one hand as you wiped down the table with the other. 

You cast a final glance around the room checking for anyone who needed your attention before making your way behind the bar to wash some of the mugs that had started piling up. Vander was just serving drinks and talking to his customers. You vaguely wondered how many of them were regulars here and how long he had known them all. Regardless, he looked much to calm in this sea of faces and storm of demands.

As you set to washing the mugs, you spoke over your shoulder to him when he wasn’t engaged with someone else. “You make this look so easy. It’s almost offensive.”

Vander glanced over his shoulder, one hand still pouring a drink. “Years of practice, Princess. You’ll get there.”

You snorted, setting a mug on the drying rack. “If I don’t keel over first.”

“You’re holding up fine,” he said, passing the freshly poured drink to a customer and flashing a quick grin at you. “Though you missed a spot on that last mug.”

You froze mid-scrub, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re joking.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly, already moving to grab another mug for a refill.

You quickly grabbed the offending tankard off the rack and squinted at it. Spotless. “Looks clean to me,” you muttered before glancing back at Vander. “You just like messing with me, don’t you?”

Vander shrugged, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. “Keeps things interesting.”

You rolled your eyes and dunked another mug into the soapy water. “You’re lucky you’ve got charm, old man. Otherwise I’d dump this water over your head.”

He chuckled, sliding another drink across the counter. “If that’s the best you’ve got, I’m not worried.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you shot back, a small grin tugging at your lips despite yourself.

His teasing was cut short by another customer slamming a mug down, demanding a refill. Vander gave you a wink before turning back to the crowd, leaving you to pick up your tray and go see what trouble was in store this time.

“Dickhead,” you muttered under your breath.

You moved across the floor to one of the tables by the entrance, smiling at the man drinking alone. A flash of blue and pink caught your eye as Vi and Powder ran past the windows. You couldn’t help the way your chest squeezed when you saw them. Happy and almost carefree kids. You hoped it would stay that way.

You turned your attention to the man, a cigar hanging out of his mouth as he spoke around it. “I’d heard Vander took the Pilty in off the streets, but I couldn’t believe it until I’d seen it for myself.” He sat forward, taking his cigar between his fingers and blowing smoke in your face.

You let your breath catch until it dispersed so you didn’t cough and make a fool of yourself. “Quite,” you said simply. You didn’t like the way this felt, and you wanted to get out of this conversation as fast as possible. Your gut had never steered you wrong before, you weren’t about to stop listening to it now. “Is there anything I can get you, sir?” You asked.

“A ride if you’re selling it, sweetheart,” he grinned, and you felt dirty. Disgusting.

“I’ll have to decline,” you said with a forced smile. His eyes roved over your form. It was common for men to have this kind of reaction to any woman, especially one of such refinement. They just couldn’t wait to get their hands on them and corrupt them like some twisted right of passage. “If that’s all, I’m sure others need my attention.”

He huffed a laugh, “Yeah, I’m sure they do,” he licked his cracked lips before putting the smoke back between them.

You fought the twitch of your lip as it tried to become a sneer. Without saying anything else, you headed back behind the bar. Though you made sure to keep composed and completely masked, Vander’s eyes darted over you as you set your tray down.

“Y’alright?” He asked quietly as you moved to the sink.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” you told him, picking up the mug you had dropped before and resuming your task. You could feel his eyes on you still, and you refused to meet his gaze. “Really,” you assured him.

You were almost certain he didn’t believe you, but he also didn’t press about it, turning back to the bar and serving someone else.

--------------------------

Finally, after what felt like an endless nightmare, the last straggler had left the bar and Vander flipped the signs off. You huffed out, practically deflating as you untied your apron and hung it up on the far wall next to the bar. The kids had come back a few hours ago and gone downstairs, and you watched as Vander locked the place up for the night.

You moved to the small closet where you grabbed the broom and started sweeping the wooden floors. Your feet and back ached from the work. Luckily, you had found a few minutes earlier to grab a bite to eat so you weren’t overly hungry. 

You and Vander worked around each other as he wiped down the tables and started putting chairs up for the night. When he finished with the tables and chairs, he moved behind the bar to count coins. 

“So, is this the glamorous nightlife of Zaun I’ve heard so much about? Dusty floors and sticky counters?” You asked him.

He didn’t look up as he spoke. “Better than wherever you came from, I’d bet.”

You scoffed, leaning against the handle of the broom. “Oh, absolutely. Who needs fancy parties and clean air when you’ve got rat traps in every corner?”

He chuckled. “You’re getting the hang of it, though. Starting to look less like a lost little princess.”

You paused with mock offense. “Is that a compliment?”

He finally glanced up at you with a wry grin. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You grinned back, “Too late,” you said, going back to your task until you felt you had finished.

Once the two of you had settled down you sat at the bar and Vander poured himself a drink. “Can I get you anything?” He flashed you the same smile he gave his customers, and you rolled your eyes.

“Just give me whatever you’re having,” you said with a dismissive wave of the hand.

He raised a brow but said nothing as he filled two glasses halfway with a dark amber liquor, sliding one over to you before pulling a stool around to sit facing you. He lifted his glass to you, and you clinked yours against it with a tired smile.

“To my new life,” you toasted.

“Cheers,” Vander said before taking a drink.

You tipped your head back, feeling the liquid burn down your throat, a bitter, woody taste in your mouth. Your lips and nose screwed up in a scowl, and Vander laughed.

“You should see your face,” he said.

“I’ve seen less pleasant things,” you joked as the burn in your throat faded.

“I’ll drink to that,” Vander responded, draining his glass.

You pushed yours away with a frown. “I won’t.”

He chuckled again, “More for me,” he said, taking your glass and pulling it toward him. After a moment of not completely uncomfortable silence, he spoke again. “Despite your griping, you’re good with the people,” he observed.

“Comes with the territory I guess,” you shrugged. “All the politics up top and my job…” you trailed off.

Vander stroked a hand over his beard as he swirled the glass idly. “A teacher, eh?” He asked. “Did you like it?”

You sighed. “It was the best part of my life,” you told him, that faraway look taking over your expression. “Those kids… they were everything to me.”

He nodded in understanding. “They’re all the more foolish to let you go,” he said, tipping his head back and draining your glass. You looked down at your hands folded in your lap, fighting to keep all your emotions you’d been white-knuckling at bay. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he said. “But you can if you want to.”

“I think it’s best left in the past, now.”

A/N: Let me know if you enjoyed! And as always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Have a good day/afternoon/night, my loves! <3

Tag List: @growls-like-thunder @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @hwalovs

Banner by @/cafekitsune

[livwritessometimes]

A Footnote Will Do...(For Me)

: Charles Leclerc x Reader

: So I'll just take a footnote in your life

: Part 2

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note: I had no plans of writing this but I got this sudden urge to write some angst.....so Tada!

…

You ate at a restaurant, the host said we're cute They think we're a couple, they bought us some booze We shared the Moscato and laughed 'cause it's true To me (to me)

The air was filled with the rich aroma of spices coming from all sorts of Italian cuisines. There was a different kind of calm in the atmosphere, which was quite contrary to what the next few days had in store. It was finally time for the Italian Grand Prix, Ferrari's home race, and a very special day for the Monegasque walking besides Y/n.

Charles Leclerc, the golden boy for Ferrari, the pride and joy of Monaco, but to her, he was simply the boy she met through his younger brother. The boy Y/n was madly in love with.

People say that love comes into your life when you least expect it to. It comes in various shapes and forms: a hug from your mother when you see her after a long time; catching up with your best friend after a stressful day at work; seeing your father gloat about you to his friends. But no one told Y/n that for her, love would enter her life in a blazing red suit and a super-fast car. 

Walking down a relatively empty street in Italy, Y/n felt content. Next to her was the boy of her dreams, going on and on about how an old lady earlier today had told him he reminded her of her son and gave him a free muffin. Chuckling at the Monegasque's excitement over a baked good, Y/n took a moment to take in the young boy's appearance. He was wearing a loose-fitting shirt, some pants and a pair of sunglasses tucked in front of his shirt, nothing extraordinary, but it felt right. He offered Y/n his hand, signaling her that they had finally reached their destination.

A beautiful restaurant hidden in the streets of Italy. Covered in greenery, the place looked like it came straight out of a painting. At the entrance, an older woman with kind eyes greeted them, smiling at the pair. She offered them one of the tables that were laid out in front of the restaurant. It was almost as if the lady knew what Y/n would have liked, as she had given them a table right next to the window. It was the perfect spot to get a glimpse of the inside of the restaurant while enjoying the serene view that surrounded them.

Thanking her, Y/n and Charles gave her their order. As soon as she was out of their site, the boy in front of her began to tell another story of how he got locked in the bathroom during one of Ferrari's meetings and how it took the entire team 2 hours to get the poor boy out. It seemed like Charles had a way of finding himself in all sorts of weird and bizarre situations. It reminds her of the first time they met. 

It was Arthur's birthday, and Y/n was on her way to his party when she saw a man standing on the side of the road, asking for a ride. Y/n could see the dark clouds slowly engulfing the once clear patch of sky and decided to take pity on the man. Stopping right next to him, she got to know that the strange man was none other than the birthday boy's older brother. It seemed like fate to her; what were the odds of something like this happening? Offering him a ride, both of them began the journey back to Arthur's (and Charles') house. Y/n has had first-hand experience with these bizarre situations, because not even 10 minutes after they began their journey, it started pouring down heavily, blocking any sort of visibility there was, causing them to stop the car. So Y/n and Charles spent the next, god knows how many hours, of Arthur's birthday sitting in the car chatting away. It was also the first time Y/n felt seen, truly seen.

Focusing back on Charles' story, she noticed the lady from earlier approaching them with a bottle of wine. "For the lovely couple," she said as she poured a glass each for Charles and her. "You both look cute together; I hope you stay happy for a long time," and with that, she went back inside the restaurant. Bringing up his glass to her, Charles whispered, "Cheers to the couple, I guess." Letting out a laugh, the pair shared the bottle of wine and continued their conversation. What Charles didn't realize was how fast Y/n's heart was beating after the woman's comment, because for her, it was the truth.

You said at the party that I was too drunk I told you I liked you, you said, "Sober up" But why would I lie? It's so clear I'm in love With you

The bright lights were almost blinding, and the entire club was filled with red. Everywhere you'd look, you'll see a member of the Ferrari team celebrate their hearts out. Charles had won the Italian Grand Prix; finally, all the doubts and worries that flooded the Monegasque's mind were put to ease. He won his home race in Monaco and has now won Ferrari's home race. Y/n and Charles were here to celebrate, and celebrating is exactly what they did. Bottles after bottles, everyone was drunk beyond their minds, Y/n especially. It was as if she could not contain the joy that filled her mind seeing Charles stand at the top of the podium. After a long night of partying, the club was slowly dying down. Most of the team members had booked a cab and left the venue; some were passed out on the couch with a content expression on their faces, and the rest were still on the dance floor. 

That is where Charles found Y/n. Upon seeing the boy, Y/n pulled him closer to her, and the boy instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her movements. "I think you've celebrated more than me at this point," said Charles while looking down at Y/n with a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, of course, someone has to, Grand Prix Winner," Y/n said, smiling up and looking back at Charles. "Let's get you some water. It'll help you stay hydrated," he said as he began walking towards one of the sofas with his arms still around Y/n. "I think you've had one too many drinks-" Cutting him off, Y/n blurted out, "I like you." Slowly looking up to see Charles' face to see any sort of reaction from him, he said, "I think you should sober up now," and without saying another word, he began to walk towards the exit with a very drunk Y/n, who was now very aware of everything happening around her.

She was completely in her senses when Charles helped her get in the passenger seat or when he leaned over from across the driver's seat to help her with the seatbelt. The boy was so close to her that even after hours of partying, she could still catch the faint scent of his perfume. For the entire trip, Charles refused to look her in the eye, not when he helped her out of the car, or when he took off her heels, or even when he tucked her in the bed. Just as he was about to leave, Y/n reached out and grabbed a hold of his wrist. "Would you stay with me till I fall asleep?" She could see the hesitation in his eyes. "Please," she said, looking up at his face, and for the first time since her abrupt confession, he looked back at her to meet her eyes. Nodding slightly, Charles sat down at the foot of the bed, and true to his words, he stayed there till Y/n dozed off.

A tense conversation, you like someone else I say, "If I waited, could that maybe help?" You told me that patience won't change how you felt For me

If Y/n thought last night was worse, then she was in for a huge surprise. The morning after was one of the worst mornings for Y/n. She woke up with a splitting headache, dazed and disoriented from last nights events, until it all came rushing back to her. Her drunken confession, Charles' behavioral change towards her. Getting out of the bed she walked towards the kitchen where she saw Charles nursing a cup of coffee in his hand looking at something on his phone. Upon hearing movement, he looked up from his phone, putting it aside he kept another cup of coffee in front of her saying "I made some for you as well, I know you'll be needing it." He smiled at her before continuing, "How's the headache?" He questioned. "I've had better days," Y/n said before taking the cup of coffee and thanking the Monegasque.

"So about last night…" Charles started, and there it was, the dreadful moment Y/n was hoping to avoid. "…I had no idea you felt that way," Charles said before looking at her. "Y/n, I'm actually seeing someone…for a while now," and with those 9 words, Charles had shattered Y/n's heart into pieces. Y/n could not believe it; they were perfect; everyone could see it. So why is it that the boy she was madly in love with could not see how good they both were together? "I'm really sorry, Y/nn, but I don't feel that way about you," Charles said with a genuine look behind his eyes. In a desperate effort to hold onto this idea Y/n had created about the both of them, she said, "If I waited, would that help? Would that change things?" The hole in her heart grew bigger and bigger with each passing second that Charles didn't answer. Letting out a sigh, he said. "Y/n, even if you waited, it's not gonna change how I feel about you. I'm sorry, but I've always seen you as a great friend," Charles said, and with that gone was the future of them together; empty was the house they were supposed to move into after a few years of dating; dead was the flower garden they both would have spent hours trying to maintain; forgotten were the children they would have eventually had; lost was the life they would have shared.

So I'll stop being pretentious and loathing our friendship You taught me a lesson, that feelings are reckless It's just like the novels, side characters end up alone

It is observed that friendships that start because someone expresses a romantic interest tend to take on a different meaning once the feelings involved in the situation are gone. Empty, distant, and disregarded, that is what Y/n felt. Ever since Charles told her that he did not reciprocate her feelings, something inside Y/n died. Gone was the girl who always paid attention to Charles, who, even in a room full of people, always had one eye on him. Gone was the girl who tried to impress the boy she was in love with. Instead, she started to loathe the fragments that were left of their friendship. They no longer met up. No longer did they have their phone calls that lasted for hours on end. 

True to his words, Charles was in fact seeing someone; someone he officially announced his relationship with 2 weeks after their fallout, or at least that is what Y/n likes to call that morning in Italy. Charles taught Y/n what love actually was and how beautiful the feeling can be. Charles is also the person who taught her how reckless feelings can actually be. It's messy and complicated. It's the girl not getting the guy; it's the golden boy meeting his girl next door. It's just like the novels, where the side character always ends up alone, forgotten somewhere in the background of the main character's story.

So I'll just take a footnote in your life And you could take my body Every line I would write for you But a footnote will do A footnote will do

Standing at the Ferrari garage, Y/n could feel everyone's excitement. Charles had won yet another Grand Prix. Everyone rushed out of the garage, heading towards the barrier to celebrate with him, Y/n could see Charles getting out of his car and running to where she was standing. He was just a few metres away from them when he opened his arms and started running towards them. Y/n almost thought he was coming over to hug her, but just as she was about to let her imagination get the best of her, reality came crashing down on her again. Charles leaped into the arms of his girlfriend, the same girl next door she lost him to. The girl who has a polite smile and a kind heart. The girl who he now shares a puppy with. It reminded Y/n of her place in his life; no longer was she a priority for him. She was merely a footnote in his life now; gone was the time where she would have been a chapter or few in his books, but for her, he had been the entire story; the start, the middle, and the end. 

Every line she wrote, she wrote for him, but now all she can afford is a footnote in his life. 

But a footnote will do. A footnote will do for her.

[douxkise]

This short piece of Mammon fluff is a gift for @anonymouse-is-here and although she has seen it already, I thought it would be nice to share it with everyone too. No Mammon content is ever too much Mammon content, right? 🌹

Note: MY ENGLISH IS CURRENTLY RUSTY, GIVE ME A BREAK

The greatest winter with the Great Mammon

Mammon was cold. That's it. So cold he could barely move. He felt a wave of cramps coming all the way to his toes and couldn't help but shiver. The demon took in his surroundings and everything he saw was the white, thick snow that extended for miles and piled up to his thighs and only added to his already freezing body.

He cried out for help and there was no answer. Of course no one would come to his rescue; he didn't even remember how he got there in the first place.

Mammon managed to take a couple of steps before his body gave up, sending him straight to the snow. Oh God, he was going to die for good this time. The freezing cold caught up to him in an instant and he felt himself getting sleepy. Weird, huh? Suddenly, the gelid snow on his cheek didn't bother him so much anymore.

"HELL NAH!" he yelled, sitting up and throwing all the pillows on the floor while trying to regain consciousness.

His eyes darted around in a haste, scared he would end up as a giant ice cube in the middle of nowhere. It was only a nightmare, thank Diavolo. He exhaled and saw his breath in the air. Oh... So that's why it hurt to breathe. His own room was cold as hell.

Only then he remembered something. Mammon turned to your side of the bed and, just as he thought, it was empty and the blanket was gone as well. Although the sheets were already cold, your scent still lingered, engraved in his mind and invading his nose. He missed you already, why did you have to disappear like that?!

"It's too early to be stealing Mammon's blanket, ___...." Rubbing his eyes, the white haired demon got up and decided to look for you; there was no way he was going back to sleep without you on his side.

It took Mammon a couple of minutes to notice the silence at Serenity Manor; the sun had barely risen, after all, no sane demon should be awake, but there he was. He walked all the way through the mansion and hadn't heard anything from any of his brothers — or you, for that matter — which led him to start getting a tad bit antsy.

The common room remained the same, though, its gigantic windows hiding nothing from the outside and, as he expected, the backyard was covered in snow. He took in the scenery before him; the chilly atmosphere wasn't enough to hurt him the way it did in his dream and the snow-covered trees were kind of pretty, he admitted. Mammon almost felt peace at the moment. That is, until he saw you.

There you were, standing outside in the snow. What were you thinking? Getting out of the mansion — without winter boots, nonetheless —, were you trying to freeze to death?!

"Oi! Ya ain't gettin' sick on my watch! Get back inside, ____!" He called through the door that led to the yard, waving frantically to get your attention.

You turned around with a smile that never failed to melt his heart. That childlike glint in your eyes that he only ever saw whenever the first snow of December started falling. You beckoned to him and, certainly, watched as he took a deep breath before facing the snow.

"It's snowing, Mammon! It's officially winter!" You told him, opening your arms in an obvious invitation for a hug.

"Tsk, talk about being childish," he grumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist in a bear hug.

You two just stayed this way, your bodies rocking slowly from side to side while you admired the beautiful winter scenery.

"Hey... You know what?" You pulled away just enough to look into his blue eyes. "Thank you for being with me, Mammon. I'm really glad we're spending winter in the human realm this year."

"Of course, the Great Mammon will always be here for ya, babe." You could hear the embarrassment in each of his words even though he tried to hide the deep blush on his face with an overconfident demeanor.

After a few moments, the winter breeze started to be too much for you. You couldn't help but shiver a bit, and it didn't go unnoticed by him; he scoffed and took both your bare hands in his. To say your skin was cold was an understatement. Honestly, he was expecting it already, you did this every year and it never got old; the first time was during the Devildom winter. However, this year he was braver, bolder even, and decided to be a gentleman and kiss your hands.

Mammon started by kissing your fingers, one by one, pretending he hadn't seen the pinkish tint on your cheeks.

"Mammon... What are you-"

"Don't speak," his voice went low in a soft command, although it sounded almost like a plea. Oh, to be that confident all the time... His life would have been so much easier.

The sudden change in the atmosphere caught you off guard; you weren't expecting him to get affectionate out of the blue, neither were you ready for it this early in the morning. You kept watching him as he kissed every inch of your hand, until he got to kiss your palm. You pulled both hands back abruptly and now it was Mammon's turn to be surprised. He stared at your flushed face and smirked to what could only mean one thing: he found out you were ticklish.

"Oh... That's good to know." His smirk only grew as well as his confidence.

"Don't you dare, Mammon." You warned with a mischievous smirk matching his, already backing away from him when he started following you.

And just like that, you were play fighting in the snow. Mammon had that familiar hungry look in his eyes, his laugh echoing through all of the backyard of the mansion as he tried to tickle you over and over. Truth be told, you had no chance against him to begin with. You only got away with running from him for as long as he allowed, but even so you ended up tripping and falling on your stomach.

"Looks like the Great Mammon won again, huh?" He chuckled as he turned you around and trapped you underneath his body.

"You're ridiculous." There was your smile again, making his heart speed up without his consent. Your entire face held the expression of pure happiness while you stared fondly at him.

As you two laid down on the snow, you noticed just how beautiful this demon was. You already knew it, of course, but it was always a welcome surprise when you got to be so close to him as you were. His eyes as deep as the most beautiful starry night, his lips just as inviting; you started to think Mammon could have been sculpted by God himself and the laugh that followed was inevitable. How could you forget that God himself took his time to create an ethereal being such as the Great Mammon?

He didn't even have the time to ask what you were laughing at when he felt your cold hands pulling his face down until your lips barely brushed against his. Mammon's hand trembled in anticipation, his fingers making their way to your hair as he made sure to remember every tiny detail of you in that moment.

"Hey! Get away from them!" Asmodeus' loud voice echoed through the backyard and both you and Mammon jumped out of your skins, unable to move fast enough to even start thinking of a believable excuse for the position you were in.

You dreaded looking in the avatar of Lust's direction and you weren't actually surprised to see all of the brothers' enraged expressions glaring at Mammon.

"Here we come, I guess, Mammon," you sighed as he helped you up with the biggest blush you had ever seen.

"Gimme a break! I ain't doin' anything!" It was the only thing he managed to yell back; you knew too well he was, indeed, doing something.

"Stop this buffoonery at once and come to the dining room. Breakfast is ready." Lucifer announced and left the rest of the brothers to follow after him.

"They will never let you live this down." You chuckled, patting the remaining snow off your clothes.

"Hah?! What if they don't? Joke's on 'em, you belong to me!" Mammon answered with a new wave of confidence.

"That's right, Mammon. I'm yours."

In a bold move, you grabbed him by the shoulders and filled his entire face with loving pecks. No space was left forgotten; you kissed his cheeks, his nose, his eyes, the eyebrows as well, his forehead and ended with a peck on his lips. You watched him squirm under your touch and laughed again; how could the avatar of Greed himself be so unbelievably cute? You loved him so much.

"Now let's go have some breakfast, Mammon," You called, not waiting for him to make up his mind. You took his hand in yours and pulled Mammon inside, excited to finally spend with him what promised to be the best winter holiday so far.

[corpseri]

ᝰ.ᐟ serenity | 027 (route 2)

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ novel: twtptflob/roxana

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ databank: here

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ word count: 2.3k

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ tags: @evaxmisu, @00hellohello00, @welpthisisboring, @hsrvl264, @flyingpansaurus, @semi-wife, @elvinapandra

◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ROUTE 2 | ROUTE 3 ►

“roxana… how dare you?!” lante bellows, fury roaring through the blood caught in his throat. he stumbles to his feet, sword trembling in his grip, pointed straight at the girl on the throne.

he takes a single step forward — then stops. his eyes widen.

he turns his head slowly, confusion beginning to drown out rage.

then — he coughs.

a sharp, wet sound. crimson spills past his lips, staining his chin, splashing against his collar. he clutches his chest, hand trembling as he looks down at the glowing circle beneath him, the runes shifting, pulsing with a strange life.

roxana leans back in the throne, resting her arm on the armrest like she’s lounging at a tea party, not a betrayal. “dad,” she says sweetly, voice laced with amusement, “how could you not realise anything?”

he coughs again, this one more violent, spattering more blood onto the floor. the sword lowers slightly in his hand, now shaking from more than rage.

“weren’t you the one who told me that parental love and trust are useless?” she asks, her gaze flicking — briefly — to the bloody guard still collapsed beside him. then, she looks at lante again, eyes like daggers dipped in honey. “right. for a while, i’ve been very obedient to you. haven’t i?”

lante’s body shudders. he raises one trembling finger, arm outstretched with pure hatred burning through his veins. “that little brat…!”

his voice cracks.

“hurry up… kill her…!” he roars, coughing in between words. his eyes swing toward dion. “dion! kill her — now!”

but dion doesn’t move.

he doesn’t even glance at lante.

instead, he turns to look at you, his expression calm, like this moment has been rehearsed in his mind a thousand times. “we should leave now,” he says.

you blink. once, twice. your head tilts slightly — mocking roxana’s playful habit — but yours is laced with confusion. “where are we going?”

“away,” he says softly. his fingers brush yours, then interlock them. “you’ll never rest your eyes on this place ever again.”

he squeezes your hand, but stays still. like he’s waiting. like this moment, this choice — belongs to you.

from behind you, the air cracks again with lante’s screaming. “what are you doing?!” he howls, voice laced with madness. “i said kill her! and kill that woman too while you’re at it. she’s making you weak!”

dion’s eyes don’t leave yours. “perhaps,” he says in answer to lante’s accusation. “but i’m alright with that.” then, gently, “should we leave?”

you hesitate. the air in the room is heavy, laced with magic and blood and the feeling of something ending.

“…i wanna see cassis before we leave,” you whisper, almost ashamed of the request. “i never got to say goodbye to him.”

your grip on dion’s hand tightens.

he squeezes back, warm and solid. “fine,” he nods. 

before another word can be said, the silence breaks.

the throne room doors slam open with a bang.

“sister!” you turn around — jeremy’s voice is unmistakable, echoing with a kind of anxious joy that feels painfully out of place.

he rushes in, breathing hard, eyes sweeping over the chaos. he steps right past lante, barely sparing him a glance, and makes his way to roxana. his eyes light up when he sees her sitting on the throne. “you were waiting for me, right? i finally came back.”

roxana smiles at him, soft but sharp, her hands folding over her lap.

“what a pity,” she says, still seated like a queen surveying the wreckage of her own kingdom. “agriche isn’t on your side, father.”

lante lets out another choked breath, still crouched in the middle of the circle, held down not just by the spell — but by the realization sinking into his bones.

“even so,” roxana continues, her voice as light as a breeze. “don’t worry. you’re still useful, so i’m not going to kill you now.”

you can’t help but glance down at lante. you expected more fire, more screaming—but what you see is… hollow.

he looks up at her, at jeremy, and at you, and dion from below. then back to roxana.

and for the first time—

he looks small.

                                    ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

it’s been a while since lante agriche had been imprisoned, and the once oppressive halls of the mansion have grown oddly quiet. dust has begun to settle in the corners of rooms once bursting with cruel laughter and schemes.

you and roxana sit in lante’s office, a room that had once felt suffocating with power but now feels hollow. she lounges in his seat behind the large mahogany desk, her legs crossed elegantly, her long hair brushing over the back of the chair. the soft light from the window paints amber streaks across the room.

roxana swirls a half—filled glass of alcohol in her hand. the decanter on the table beside her glints in the dying light. “ah, do you want some?” she asks, raising the glass slightly and arching a brow toward you.

you lean against one of the bookshelves, arms folded casually. “uuuhhh no thanks, i’m fine,” you say with a polite wave of your hand. the smell of the liquor is sharp — too sharp.

“suit yourself,” she hums, then downs half the glass in one gulp. she exhales slowly, eyes glinting over the rim. “is this how it went in your little story, [name]?”

you glance around the office, noting the cracked edges of the portrait on the wall, the untouched stack of documents on the desk — lante’s legacy, untouched and fading. “what do you think? you got what you wanted, i suppose. well… almost.”

your eyes meet hers.

there’s a flicker of something in roxana’s expression. maybe disappointment. maybe longing.

she places her now empty glass on the desk with a soft clink. “ah, yes. i will get to that soon,” she says cryptically, not needing to elaborate. you both know what’s left to do. “now, we might as well bask in victory.” she stretches her arms out with a mockingly regal sigh, eyes fluttering up to the high ceiling. “it’s not every day we get to savor the fall of a tyrant.” after a few indulgent seconds, she lowers her arms and fixes her gaze on you again. “what are you going to do after this?”

you shrug, shifting your weight. “dunno. dion has something planned. i just want to live my life peacefully. maybe get a job somewhere.”

roxana scoffs softly, almost amused. “he has enough money to sustain both of you for several lifetimes. i don’t think you need to work.”

you grin faintly. “yeah, well. all my life i’ve been educated. everyone born in my world is conditioned to work. even the rich and powerful have an education.”

“ah,” she says, her fingers tapping on the desk’s surface. “you wish not to waste that education?”

“yep,” you say with a small chuckle. “besides, i’ll get bored staying inside for the rest of my life. these past three years were already hard enough.”

roxana laughs with you, her voice lighter than usual. it’s genuine —  almost carefree. she opens her mouth to speak again—

but the office door creaks open, and the air tightens like a wire pulled taut.

dion steps inside, shutting the door behind him with quiet finality. the atmosphere shifts immediately.

“i didn’t give you permission to be here, dion,” roxana says, voice calm but sharp.

dion doesn’t respond. he walks with purpose, his boots clicking against the polished floor until he reaches your side. you look up at him, sensing something simmering beneath the surface.

“i…” dion begins, his gaze locked onto roxana. “i do not regret killing achille. if i were sent back in time to that very moment, i would have killed him again.” a heavy pause follows. the air feels heavy with unspoken pain. he tilts his head slightly, watching her. “i’ll kill him right in front of you.” roxana hums, nonchalant, but her eyes are watching him carefully. “so,” dion continues, voice lower now, more dangerous, “i plan to kill your mother. maybe that will be enough for you to cry.” his gaze slides toward you. “but not now.”

she blinks. “huh?”

“one day, i will kill her. right in front of you as a last attempt to watch you crumble. that will be it.”

roxana smirks, lips curling in mock amusement. “what, so you give up? how pathetic.”

dion’s eyes narrow. “i realized you’re not worth it,” he says evenly. “you never were.” he turns to you, his presence gentler as his hand finds yours. “let us go. the pedelians will be here soon.”

you nod slowly. “oh, okay.” you step toward roxana, hesitation in your movements. “this may be the last time we ever talk. so… goodbye. i hope to see you again in the future.”

roxana looks up at you with a rare softness, a genuine smile tugging at her lips. “yes, you too,” she says. “i’ll come find you if i ever become bored of the life fate has planned out for me. i might even kidnap you from this big bad wolf.”

you laugh, eyes bright with bittersweet warmth. “i look forward to that. goodbye, roxana.”

she raises her hand in a small wave. “yes. goodbye, [name].”

and as dion gently leads you out of the office, the last thing you see is her still sitting on that throne-like chair, back straight, her expression unreadable—regal, dangerous, beautiful.

you and dion walk side by side through the dim corridor, the sound of your footsteps swallowed by the thick silence of the estate. the halls feel colder than usual. like even the walls know the end has arrived.

you glance at dion. he’s unreadable again, his eyes sharp, but distant. you wonder if what he said to roxana was for her sake — or for his.

“you okay?” you ask quietly, just to hear your voice in the silence.

he doesn’t answer at first. then, a quiet, “yes.” then a pause. “are you?”

you look ahead. the hallway stretches on endlessly, but you know where it leads. out. “i think so,” you say, “feels weird. everything’s over.”

“not everything,” he murmurs. “just this chapter.”

as you both step into the entrance hall, you spot jeremy leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes slightly downcast. he looks up when he hears you, expression shifting into something between a smile and a grimace.

“so you’re really going?” he asks.

you nod. “it’s time.”

jeremy lets out a breath and walks over. “roxana didn’t say it, but… she’s gonna miss you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“are you going to miss me too?” you ask with a smile.

“of course not!”

you laugh, stepping in to hug him. “you’ll do fine. keep being a good little brother for roxy, yeah?”

“i’m not little,” he mumbles, hugging back.

dion waits patiently by the door. you pull away from jeremy and glance over your shoulder, half—expecting roxana to appear behind you — but the halls stay empty.

as you cross the threshold of the estate, a soft wind picks up, brushing through your clothes and hair. it carries with it a scent — distant flowers. wild ones. like something new is beginning to bloom far from here.

you look back one last time.

the mansion looms, cold and distant. the sky above it is beginning to shift to dusk, painting the walls with the last orange hues of the day. and in one window, you swear you see her silhouette — roxana, watching.

you lift a hand, not sure if she sees.

but maybe that doesn’t matter.

the path ahead is yours now.

you squeeze dion’s hand. “let’s go,” he gives a rare smile. small. tired. but real.

the sound of boots echoes from the other end. your steps slow, and you squint ahead — shadows moving fast beneath the dim corridor lamps. soldiers, clad in blue and silver. the pedelians.

at the front of them is cassis.

he looks different now — older, maybe. heavier with responsibility, with something softer in his eyes than before. he sees you immediately, and his pace quickens. your heart skips.

he stops just before you, breathing slightly heavier from the rush. his eyes flick between you and dion, but his focus lands on you.

“[name]...” he breathes out, voice gentle but surprised. “you’re safe.”

you nod, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “you’re late.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, brushing a hand through his hair. “maybe. i was worried i’d never see you again.”

“same here,” you admit, gaze falling for a moment. “i missed you.”

his expression softens even more. “i missed you too. it’s weird, isn’t it. missing my captor,”

there’s a silence between you, but it’s not awkward — it’s full. full of everything you couldn’t say over those years, full of everything you’ve both survived.

“you’ve been okay?” you ask quietly, your voice almost carried off by the hallway draft.

“i’ve tried to be,” he replies. “what about you?”

you glance at dion, who remains rsilent beside you, before looking back at cassis. “i’m... still figuring that out. but i’m free now. that’s something.”

he nods. “it is.”

you don’t know how long you stand there like that, staring at each other, the sounds of soldiers moving past like background noise. then cassis’s hand brushes yours, just barely. “i wanted to take you with me,” he says quietly.

“i know,” you whisper. “but this isn’t my place anymore. it never was.”

he gives a slow nod, even though you can tell it hurts. “i won’t stop hoping we’ll meet again.”

you smile. “me neither.”

he looks to dion, then back at you. “i have to go in. agriche needs to be cleaned out… properly.”

“good luck,” you say. “i hope it all burns.”

“it will,” he says simply.

you linger there for one last second, then step back, letting him pass. he brushes by, and as he does, your hand almost reaches for his — almost — but you stop yourself.

dion takes your hand instead, grounding you. warm. steady.

you watch cassis disappear into the depths of agriche, leading his soldiers into the dark halls you’re finally walking away from.

you don’t say goodbye.

you just keep moving forward.

[claramelooo]

Hey, my lovers! 12k words today, huh? You're welcome! Hahaha enjoy!

Obs: Christmas wishes were given in this chapter!

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Warning: +18, NSFW, angst

Paring: Mommy Wanda x Brat Fem reader

Summary: Wanda pressures you until you tell what you tried so hard to hide

Read here: Prologue | Part 1 - Predator | Part 2 - The Prey | Part 3 - On your Knees | Part 4 - The Spider | Part 5 - The Lamb | Part 6 - Pure Crimson | Part 7 - Dependece

VELVET CHAINS

Passion

The sun was warm but not scorching, and the sound of children's laughter echoed through the park as Billy and Tommy ran circles around a tall tree, each holding a plastic stick like a sword. They were so full of energy it was hard to keep up, but the glow on their faces made everything worthwhile.

You were sitting on a checkered blanket beside Wanda, your bare feet touching the soft grass. She had insisted on bringing a basket filled with fruits, sandwiches, and a homemade pie that promised to be delicious. Next to you, she seemed completely at ease, a rare, serene smile lighting up her face as she watched the boys play.

"I should’ve brought a shield to defend the world from those two," you joked, laughing as Billy tried to attack Tommy with a dramatic pose.

"Don’t worry," Wanda replied, her eyes sparkling. "They only attack those who deserve it."

You laughed, but your laughter was cut short by the touch of her hand on yours. It was a simple gesture, as if she wanted to catch your attention while pointing out something funny about the boys. But there was something about that touch—in the way her fingers intertwined with yours, firm yet gentle. The warmth traveled up your arm like an electric current, and suddenly the world around you seemed blurred, as if only she mattered.

You glanced down at your joined hands and then up at her face. Wanda wasn’t looking at you; she was smiling at the boys as though holding your hand was the most natural thing in the world. But to you, it wasn’t natural. It was overwhelming.

Your heart started to race, and you felt panic rising in your chest. Was this what it felt like to be in love? It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. You knew how complicated things were, knew there wasn’t room in her life for you beyond the place you already occupied. But in that moment, as you watched the sunlight dance in her hair and felt the warmth of her hand on yours, you had to admit to yourself: you were falling.

Wanda turned to you, her green eyes meeting yours, and it was as if she could see straight into you.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her voice soft but tinged with concern.

"Yeah," you replied too quickly, diverting your gaze to the picnic basket. "I just... there’s so much food, huh? I’m not sure we’ll manage to eat it all."

She chuckled softly, giving your hand a light squeeze before letting go. "I brought it because I know my little monsters. They’ll finish all of it before we get home."

You tried to laugh along, but the truth was, without her hand in yours, the world suddenly felt less bright.

As Billy and Tommy ran back for water, laughing and arguing about who had won the "battle," you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment and swore to keep it all a secret. From yourself.

You’d always thought you knew what passion was. The butterflies in your stomach when Kate laughed that carefree way. The heat that crept up your cheeks when Sharon brushed her fingers along your arm while talking. You’d thought those feelings were intense, overwhelming. That they were everything someone could want.

But now, with Wanda, all of that felt like a lie.

With Kate, there was a lightness, almost a game. She was charming, fun, but always kept a certain distance. With Sharon, it was different, closer, but even in the most intimate moments, there was a void you could never explain.

Wanda, however... Wanda was something else entirely. She was a storm.

It was as though, by her side, the entire world shrank, becoming small and irrelevant. When she looked at you with those deep green eyes, it was like all the air was sucked from the room, leaving you vulnerable, exposed, unable to think of anything but her.

You tried convincing yourself it was just another crush, like the others. Told yourself it would pass. That it was just her way, the intensity with which she lived, the way she commanded every space she occupied.

But every time she touched your hand, even casually, you knew you were lying to yourself. Her touch left a mark, a warmth no one else had ever ignited in you.

Kate and Sharon were soft breezes, but Wanda was a wildfire. One that consumed everything, leaving you breathless and trapped, and strangely, you didn’t want to escape.

It was more than physical attraction, more than anything you’d ever experienced. It was as if every fiber of your being cried out for her, as if your body and soul knew something your mind desperately tried to deny.

And that was what scared you.

With Kate, with Sharon, you had control. You could measure your feelings, fit them into neat, safe little boxes. But with Wanda, there was no control. No logic. There was only an all-consuming desire, a need that left you at her mercy, even when she had no idea of the chaos she caused within you.

You hated it. Hated the vulnerability, the intensity, the way she made you feel small and infinite all at once. But most of all, you hated that none of your previous loves came close to what you felt for Wanda.

Kate was comfort. Sharon, security. But Wanda? Wanda was the abyss.

And you were falling.

Until, after a few days, everything began to crumble.

Wanda watched you from across the room, her gaze fixed on you as you flipped through a book without actually paying attention to its content. The air was thick with a tension she couldn’t quite describe. Over the past few days, everything seemed wrong. Your fingers no longer intertwined with hers like before, and your laughter, which used to fill the house with life, now sounded restrained, almost mechanical.

It was subtle, but Wanda was a woman who noticed details. You avoided her eyes. Your hands fidgeted whenever she was near. When she tried to touch your face or hold your hand, you pulled away—just a small, almost imperceptible step. But to her, every tiny retreat was a blow that resonated deeply.

At first, she tried to rationalize it. "Maybe it's just stress." "She's been studying so much." "She's tired." But those excuses weren’t enough to silence the thoughts growing like weeds, poisoning her mind.

What if you were trying to leave her?

The thought hit her like lightning. The logic seemed absurd, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. You were distancing yourself to create emotional space. Maybe you’d realized how much she depended on you. Or worse: maybe you’d fallen in love with someone else.

Yelena?

Jealousy and paranoia began to taint every thought.

While you read in the living room, Wanda stood in the kitchen, washing a dish that had already been clean for at least two minutes. Her movements were methodical, but her mind was a storm. She could picture you pulling away, coming up with an excuse, inventing a reason to leave early. In her imagination, you were planning a way to disappear.

She clenched her eyes shut, the water running over the forgotten dish in her hands. No. She wouldn’t let that happen.

“Y/n?” Her voice suddenly rang out in the room, sharp and weighted, making you look up from the book, startled.

“Yes?” You replied hesitantly.

Wanda dried her hands slowly on the dish towel, her movements controlled, almost rehearsed. But her gaze was an abyss of conflicting emotions.

“Why have you been avoiding looking at me?”

Your heart raced. It was impossible to lie to her, but the truth felt too heavy to lay between you both at that moment.

“I’m not…” you began, but stopped when you saw the intense gleam in her eyes.

“You are,” Wanda interrupted, walking slowly toward you. “You barely talk to me. You barely touch me. You used to look for my eyes in every room, and now you can’t even meet my gaze.”

“I just... I’ve got a lot on my mind. Studying for Yale has been taking up so much of my time.” Your voice wavered, and that only made Wanda’s suspicion grow.

Wanda’s steps were deliberate as she approached, her gaze so intense it made it hard to breathe. There was something about her posture—a mix of forced calm and simmering fervor—that set off every alarm in your body. She stopped in front of you, her presence radiating warmth and an energy that seemed to dominate any room she entered.

“I can fix that,” she said softly, her voice dripping with a cruel kind of sweetness, as though she were speaking to a child who didn’t know what was best for themselves.

“What...?” you asked, trying to sound steady, but your voice came out hesitant, almost a whisper.

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes analyzing every detail of your face as if trying to uncover the secrets you so desperately tried to hide.

“You think I don’t notice?” Her voice was quieter now but heavy with emotion. “You’re building distance. It’s not just Yale. It’s not just stress.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, your fingers nervously toying with the edge of the book in your lap.

“Don’t lie to me, Y/n,” she countered, the intensity in her voice making you flinch. She leaned down, her hands resting on the sides of the chair, caging you in place. “I can feel it when you’re pulling away. I can feel it when I’m losing you.”

Your heart raced. Losing you? That wasn’t how you saw it. You were trying to regain control over yourself, to put a barrier between the overwhelming love you felt for Wanda and the life you knew you needed to pursue. But she saw it as abandonment, as rejection.

“Wanda, I...” you started, but your voice faltered when her eyes burned even deeper into yours.

“You don’t need to go to Yale,” she said suddenly, her voice calm in a way that felt almost like a trap.

The statement hit you like a slap. “What?”

“Yale is a distraction. An excuse to pull away from me,” she continued, her hand sliding to your chin, holding it gently but firmly enough that you couldn’t look away. “You don’t need it. Everything you need is right here.”

“It’s not that simple, Wanda,” you replied, your voice almost a sob.

“Why not?” She arched an eyebrow, her expression flickering between frustration and hurt. “Are you trying to run away from me? Is that it? Am I not enough for you?”

“That’s not it!” you protested, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Then what is it? Tell me,” she insisted, her voice growing more desperate, even though her face still held the mask of control she fought so hard to maintain.

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. How could you explain to her that the problem wasn’t her, but the overwhelming love you felt? That you needed distance because if you stayed, you’d end up losing yourself completely in Wanda, sacrificing everything you dreamed of just to be consumed by her?

“I... I need something more than this,” you finally murmured, not brave enough to tell her the full truth.

“Something more than this?” she repeated, a note of disbelief in her voice. “I am something more than this! What we have is more than enough. You know that.”

Her fingers brushed your cheek, and your heart broke as you saw the conflict in her eyes—the fear of losing you and the need to hold on to you.

“Please, Wanda,” you whispered, a tear sliding down your face.

But she didn’t seem willing to relent. “If Yale means losing you, then you’re staying.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words pressing on you like a storm.

Once again, you sighed, exhausted—this entire argument was overstimulating your mind.

“Wanda, it’s not like that,” you began in a softer, wearier tone. “I can promise you, I don’t want to be away from you.” You took a chance, holding her hands in a gesture of comfort.

“Did I do something?” Wanda’s voice was firm, almost cold—but there was a trace of fear in her tone.

“No!” you exclaimed, though deep down, you knew she had—yet falling for Wanda had always felt inevitable. “You’ve done nothing but be kind and an amazing mommy.” You caught a glimmer in Wanda’s tearful eyes, as if that was all she needed to hear. “I just… I’m not ready to talk about it right now.” You exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Even though you hadn’t said everything, it felt like enough—and it was true.

“Are you sure… you’re not planning to leave?” The older woman’s voice wavered, the final words choking slightly.

Your eyes widened, startled by the intensity of the question. “Leave? Wanda, what are you talking about?”

“You think I don’t know?” Her voice grew louder, though still edged with danger. “You think I can’t tell when someone is building walls? I’ve seen it before. You’re trying to escape, aren’t you? Finding a way to leave me.”

“That’s not true!” You stood up, feeling desperation surge within you.

“Then look at me,” Wanda demanded, her voice thick with pain.

You tried, but the weight of her gaze—so full of hurt, fear, and something deeper you couldn’t identify—was too much. Your eyes darted away, and that was all Wanda needed.

She took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest as though shielding herself. “You can’t even look at me…”

“Wanda, please…”

“No!” Her anger finally erupted, though tears filled her eyes. “You’re mine! You know that! And I won’t let you run away.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Her words lingered in the air, heavy with pain and possessiveness. Abruptly, she turned and left the room, the sound of the door slamming behind her thunderous against your heart.

Wanda stormed into the bedroom like a hurricane. Anger simmered beneath her skin, mixing with a pain so profound it felt suffocating. Her mind replayed the words spoken—and unspoken. The hesitation in your voice, the way you avoided her gaze, ate away at the control she fought so hard to maintain.

She’s leaving me… She’s pulling away… I can’t lose her.

It was then Vision entered, his usual serene expression almost irritatingly calm. He looked at her with concern, clearly sensing the charged tension in the air.

“Wanda,” he began gently. “Is something wrong? You seem… troubled.”

She stepped back, crossing her arms defensively. “It’s none of your business.”

Vision remained unfazed. He moved closer, his gaze analytical yet compassionate, trying to bridge the distance she was desperately trying to create.“Wanda, we’re partners. You can tell me what’s going on.”

“Partners?” She let out a bitter laugh, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Do you even understand what that means?”

Vision frowned, confusion evident on his face. He reached out to touch her, but Wanda recoiled, her gaze hardening.

“Don’t touch me,” she growled, her voice low, almost dangerous.

“Wanda,” he tried again, stepping closer, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

“I said, don’t touch me!” Her voice echoed through the room, the air around her crackling with energy.

Vision hesitated for a moment but, in a move that seemed almost rehearsed, leaned in as if to kiss her. It was a gentle, almost hesitant motion, but he didn’t anticipate what happened next.

Before his lips could even come close, Wanda shoved him with force, using far more energy than necessary. Vision stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock as he steadied himself.

“You think a kiss is going to fix this?” Her voice was sharp, laced with contempt and fury. “You’re not what I want, Vision. You never were.”

He stood in silence, absorbing her words. But what hurt most wasn’t the content—it was the raw hatred in her eyes.

“You’re angry,” Vision finally said, his voice still controlled. “But rejecting help won’t solve anything.”

“I don’t need your help,” Wanda spat back, her tone icy. “I don’t want your touch. So do me a favor and leave.”

Vision hesitated, but the look in her eyes—a mix of rage and something far darker—compelled him to comply. He stepped back, nodded slowly, and left the room without another word, leaving Wanda alone with her fury, her anguish, and the obsessive whispers that filled her mind.

As soon as he was gone, she collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in her hands. The control she prided herself on was slipping through her fingers. But the only thing that mattered was you.

And if there was one thing Wanda Maximoff knew, it was that she would do anything to keep you by her side.

[...]

The library was as quiet as ever, the occasional sound of pages turning and muffled footsteps creating an almost meditative atmosphere. You were sitting at one of the tables near the classic literature section, your nervous fingers holding a book that, ironically, you weren’t managing to read. Your gaze stubbornly drifted to the woman on the other side of the room.

Wanda.

She looked completely at ease, browsing the shelves as if she owned the place. Her fingers glided over the spines of the books, and you couldn’t help but watch the grace in her every movement. It was intimidating how she seemed so natural, so in control, while you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions you could barely comprehend.

She noticed. Of course, she did.

When her green eyes met yours, you quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in the words you couldn’t even see. Your heart was racing, and a troublesome warmth crept up your face.

It didn’t take long before you heard her footsteps approaching. Your body tensed, every fiber of your being aware of her presence before Wanda pulled out the chair beside you and sat with that calmness that made her even more overwhelming.

"What are you reading? " Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but carried a playful tone that made you swallow hard.

"Oh…" you began, but the word died in your throat when you realized you had no idea what was in the book before you. "Just… something interesting."

Wanda arched an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer to you. Her scent, a mix of jasmine and something uniquely Wanda, invaded your senses.

"Something interesting, huh?" She repeated, her voice caressing each word like an invitation. "You seem distracted, little one."

You tightened your grip on the book, trying to maintain composure, but it was useless.

"I… I’m not distracted " you lied, your voice weaker than you intended.

Wanda chuckled, a low, delightful sound that made your stomach tighten.

"Then why are your cheeks so red?"

Your breath hitched, and you finally looked at her. That was a mistake. Wanda’s gaze was intense, full of something that made you feel small and exposed.

"They’re not" you tried to deny, but the frailty in your voice betrayed you.

She tilted her head, her eyes studying your face with an attention that made you shiver.

"You’re a terrible liar, you know that? "she said, with a smile that was both a tease and a promise.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your hands trembled slightly as you tried to focus on the book, but Wanda wouldn’t let you off the hook so easily.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against yours as she slid the book away from you.

"Look at me." she ordered, her voice now firmer but still laced with a sweetness that was almost cruel.

You hesitated, but her magnetism was inescapable. Your eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

"Why are you so nervous?" Wanda asked, her hand now resting over yours.

You tried to answer, but your throat was dry. All you could do was shake your head.

"Oh, little one… " she whispered, leaning even closer, so close her lips were mere inches from yours. "You don’t have to be afraid of me."

But it wasn’t fear. It was something far more intense, more overwhelming.

And as if she knew exactly what you were feeling, Wanda smiled, a smile that completely disarmed you.

"Tell me what you want, darling," she murmured, her eyes locked onto yours.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill—not from sadness, but from pure desire, from longing.

"I… I don’t know " you finally whispered, feeling a weakness take over you.

Wanda chuckled again, but this time there was something darker in the sound.

"Don’t worry, little one. I know exactly what you need."

Wanda leaned in slowly, with the composure of someone who knew the impact of every movement. Her dark eyes were fixed on you, studying every nuance of your face, savoring the moment before the inevitable.

She lifted a hand, her fingers sliding along your face, tracing the curve of your jaw down to your chin. Her touch was both delicate and firm, sending shivers through your skin.

"Do you trust me?" she asked, her voice a husky whisper, full of promises that made the air between you feel heavy.

You swallowed hard, your heart beating so fast it felt like it might explode. Unable to form words, you simply nodded, letting her see in your expression just how much you were hers.

Wanda’s smile widened, but there was an intensity in her eyes that almost took your breath away. She tilted her head, and you felt the heat of her breath brushing your lips.

"Good girl," she murmured, her words like an electric shock coursing through your body.

And then, she kissed you.

It was fire. The touch of Wanda’s lips on yours was burning, hungry, as if she were trying to convey everything she felt in a single gesture. There was no hesitation, only pure, raw desire.

Her fingers slid to the base of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened—more intense, more demanding. You clung to her shoulders, incapable of doing anything but matching her fervor, lost in the passion Wanda so effortlessly awakened in you.

When she finally pulled away, just enough to let you breathe, Wanda’s eyes were shining in a way you’d never seen before.

"That’s what you needed, isn’t it?" she asked, a smug smile playing on her lips as her thumb gently traced your lower lip. "To be taken firmly by mommy."

You didn’t respond, because the truth was clear. Wanda knew exactly what you needed, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than for her to take you again.

Unexpectedly, the woman turns her body abruptly, leaving you on your back—and making you stick your ass out for her.

"You know, it's funny how you always wear that kind of skirt when you're here. Is this a sign for me to fuck you all over right here?" Wanda pulls your hair, making you squeak.

She pushes your head against the shelves, making you grimace in pain. She caresses the length of your skirt, reaching your precious spot.

" You're going to be quiet for me. If you moan, I'll stop." Her fingers finger your pussy covered by your panties.

"Mommy…" you whispered in a moan.

"Come on, little girl. Tell me what you're hiding so much…" she tried to manipulate you at all costs to find out what secrets you were hiding.

She fingered you—slowly. — it was almost cruel, painful. She squeezes the flesh of your ass, making you sink your teeth into her hand to stifle a scream.

The more Wanda's fingers moved in circles, the more your body gave in, involuntarily bucking toward her. Your surrender was total, almost like a primal instinct that dominated you completely, and Wanda seemed to absorb every second of it with almost cruel pleasure.

"Who owns you? Who do you belong to?" Her voice was a deep whisper, hot as an ember that set your self-control ablaze.

"It's y-you, mommy… it's you!" you managed to stammer, your voice trembling and full of submission.

A dangerous glint crossed Wanda's eyes, and the smile that appeared on her lips was at once one of approval and absolute dominance. Her fingers pulled your hair more firmly, tilting your head back, and you felt her breath brush against your sensitive skin.

"Exactly, little girl. Exactly…" she murmured, her voice so low that it seemed to slip straight into the deepest recesses of your mind. "A pet shouldn’t hide anything from its owner, should it?"

She slid her tongue along the arch of your ear, each movement slow and calculated, followed by delicate bites that made your body tremble.

You shook your head quickly, the lump in your throat growing as she took control of every part of you.

“Then tell me… tell me!” Her order came like a whip, her voice low and sharp, breaking down any resistance you might have had.

Here, in that sacred space, where knowledge and calm were the norm, this was an act of pure desecration. A conscious and deliberate sin, and yet the sense of danger made it all the more intoxicating.

Your heart was beating wildly, the sound echoing in your ears as tears welled up, blurring your vision. You weren't sure if it was because of the adrenaline running through your veins or the desperate need to release all the feelings you had been repressing.

“I-I don’t… I can’t!” You screamed, too loud, the confession filled with dread and desire.

And then, Wanda stopped.

The emptiness left by her touch was as painful as it was unexpected, but nothing was worse than the disapproving look she gave you. Her dark green eyes pierced you like a blade, and the frustrated moan that escaped your throat along with a tear.

“Bad girls don’t cum, Y/n.” Did she say it, staring at you with some kind of disappointment?

Her words echoed in your mind, as vivid as the sound of her voice on any given day. Bad girls don’t cum.It was such a simple phrase, but it was filled with something that ate away at you. The clear limit, the line you couldn’t cross.

And yet, you wanted more.

You wanted to hold her, kiss her, tell her how every moment with her made you feel alive and at the same time destroyed. You wanted to tell her that you loved the way she frowned when she was focused, or the way her voice changed when she became softer, more tender.

But how could you?

How could you look her in the eyes and tell her that you loved her when you knew she couldn’t, shouldn’t, love you back?

Wanda was an entire universe, but she wasn’t yours. She would never be.

You pressed your hands against your chest, as if you could hold the broken pieces of your heart together. But even as you did, the tears fell, hot and relentless.

You cried for her. For yourself.

For everything that could be, but would never be.

And as the pain grew, a part of you knew that you would continue to love Wanda in silence, because silence was all you had.

And loving in silence, though crushing, was still better than not loving her at all.

[...]

Hours later, after dinner and with Vision out of town for yet another meeting—you muster up enough courage to walk, albeit slowly, toward Wanda's room.

Sighing and gathering just a bit more bravery, you stepped inside. No knocking, no asking for permission. Perhaps this would land you in trouble with the disciplinarian Wanda, but all you found was a woman who looked worn and exhausted.

The soft glow of the lamp in Wanda’s room barely illuminated her figure, seated at the edge of the bed. Her shoulders were slumped, her hands folded in her lap. She didn’t look like the strong, dominant woman you knew. Not in that moment.

Your heart clenched at the sight of her like this. It felt wrong, out of place from everything you associated with Wanda. Her eyes were fixed on something invisible in front of her, lost in thoughts you knew were about you.

And then you realized, this distance you’d imposed wasn’t just hurting you—it was hurting Wanda too. She seemed so lifeless, as if something had drained her completely.

She heard your footsteps but didn’t lift her head immediately.

“You should be resting,” she murmured, her voice hoarse and low, lacking the usual authority that bent your will to hers.

“And you?” Your voice came out hesitant but filled with genuine concern.

She finally raised her eyes, and what you saw nearly made you step back. There was pain there, raw and exposed, a pain she rarely allowed anyone to see.

“I can’t,” she admitted. “Not when I feel like I’m losing you.”

Her words hung in the room like a heavy weight, each syllable laced with a vulnerability you hadn’t expected.

You took a step forward, then another, until you were close enough to feel her warmth, to hear the faint, uneven sound of her breathing.

“Wanda…” you began, but you didn’t know what to say. There were no words to mend the crack that was forming between the two of you.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady herself, but when she opened them again, there was a sheen of tears she refused to let fall.

“I care more than I should,” she confessed, her voice thick with emotion. “And that’s why it hurts so much to feel you pulling away. It’s like… like you’re ripping a part of me out.”

Your chest ached at her words. You knew she was hurting, but seeing the depth of her suffering was like taking a blow straight to the heart.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said, your voice barely steady.

“But you are,” she replied, firm but without anger. Just sadness. “Every step you take away from me… it’s like a knife I put in my own chest.”

You hesitated but finally lifted a hand to touch her face, your fingers trembling slightly as they met the warmth of her skin. Wanda closed her eyes at your touch, leaning into it involuntarily, as though seeking solace.

“I care too,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “More than I should. And that’s why this is so hard. I… I don’t know how to balance this.”

Wanda opened her eyes, and the intensity in her gaze made you shiver.

“Then don’t balance it,” she whispered, her fingers now holding your hand against her cheek. “Choose. Choose us. Choose to stay.”

The tears you’d been holding back began to fall silently down your cheeks. Part of you wanted to do just that. To throw everything aside and simply lose yourself in her arms. But another part, the part with dreams and ambitions, knew it wasn’t that simple.

“I want to,” you admitted. “But I’m scared. Scared of losing myself, scared of losing everything I’ve dreamed for myself.”

Wanda bit her lip, her eyes burning with emotion.

“And I’m scared of losing you,” she replied, her voice faltering for the first time.

The room fell into silence, only the sound of heavy breathing filling the space.

You took a deep breath, trying to summon the courage that always seemed to elude you when you were near Wanda. The silence in the room was palpable, and her nearness made everything feel even more intense. Your fingers were still intertwined, the warmth of her skin anchoring you but also leaving you completely exposed.

“Wanda,” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

She turned her face toward you, her eyes locking with yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. Concern? Curiosity? Hope?

“I…” Your throat felt tight, but you knew you had to say it. There was no running anymore, not when the weight of this truth was consuming you from the inside out. “I am completely and utterly in love with you, Wanda Maximoff.”

The words left you like a sigh, heavy with months—perhaps years—of repressed emotion. The moment they left your lips, the world seemed to freeze.

Wanda’s face remained still for a moment, her eyes wide as if she was trying to process what she’d just heard. Her fingers reflexively tightened around yours, but then she pulled away, as though the warmth of your touch was too much to bear.

“Y/n…” she began, her voice hoarse, low, but brimming with emotion.

You watched her chest rise and fall as she took a deep breath, as if trying to steady the storm inside her. She stood up, putting a bit of space between you, her arms crossing in a defensive posture, but her gaze never wavered from you.

“Do you… have any idea what you just said?” Her voice was hesitant, almost a whisper, but there was something in it that begged for confirmation.

You swallowed hard and nodded, refusing to look away.

“I know what I’m saying. I tried to fight it, Wanda, but I can’t anymore. I love you.”

Wanda shook her head slowly, her lips slightly parted as though she were about to speak but couldn’t find the words. Finally, she let out a laugh—a low, disbelieving sound, devoid of any joy.

“My God…” She ran her hands over her face, as though trying to erase the confession, but you caught the glimmer in her eyes. They weren’t tears of sadness.

“You know this is…” Wanda began, but the sentence died on her lips, the weight of the words too heavy to bear. Her shoulders sagged slightly, as though all the strength she usually carried had drained away. When she lifted her gaze to meet yours again, there was something crushing in her expression: a mixture of restrained desire, guilt, and a pain that mirrored your own.

“I know…” you responded in a near whisper, your voice thick with emotion. Tears began to streak down your face, each one carrying the weight of everything you’d never had the courage to say before. And even now, you hated yourself for being unable to control what you felt.

Wanda exhaled, the sound light yet devastating. She hesitated for a moment, but when she spoke, her voice was soft, as if every word was a confession she had never intended to make.

“I can’t give you what you want, Dekta,” she whispered, her tone filled with something closer to regret than denial. “But maybe… maybe I can give you what you need… because I always know what you need.”

The use of the nickname cut through you like a sharp blade. It was a reminder of the intimacy you shared, the trust and affection you cherished so deeply, but now it only made the moment more painful.

Her eyes stayed locked on yours, intense and inescapable, as though she was trying to communicate something words could never convey. The space between you seemed to shrink without either of you moving, until your faces were close enough that you could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with your own.

The atmosphere in the room grew thick, suffocating, as if the air around you was charged with electricity. Wanda’s heartbeat was so loud you could almost hear it, and your own chest felt like it was about to explode.

“Wanda…” you murmured, but the word came out broken, uncertain, as if you weren’t sure whether it was a warning or a plea.

“I shouldn’t,” she said, almost to herself, but she didn’t pull away. Her breathing was unsteady, her gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. “But you make me lose control, Dekta.”

You didn’t know who made the final move—if it was you, if it was her, or if it was some cruel twist of fate conspiring against you both. But suddenly, the space between you disappeared, and Wanda’s lips brushed yours in a feather-light, hesitant touch, laden with doubt and desire.

It lasted only a second before she abruptly pulled away, as if she’d been burned.

“This… can’t happen,” she said, breathless, more to herself than to you. “You need to understand that.”

“And why can’t it?” you asked, your voice trembling but filled with growing frustration. “Wanda, I can’t hide what I feel anymore. And you know you feel something too. Don’t try to deny it.”

She ran her hands over her face, clearly struggling against the tidal wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

“I can’t deny it,” she finally admitted, her voice low and barely audible. “But admitting it doesn’t change anything. I have a life, a family. And you… you have a bright future ahead of you, Dekta. A future that shouldn’t be jeopardized by something as… complicated as this.”

“This?” you echoed, the hurt evident in your voice. “Is that what you call us?”

Wanda closed her eyes, as if shielding herself from the intensity of the moment.

“I don’t know what to call this,” she replied, finally opening her eyes, now glistening with unshed tears. “But I know I can’t be selfish enough to ruin you.”

For the first time, you saw Wanda completely vulnerable—the strong, unshakable woman you had always known seemed on the verge of crumbling.

Suddenly, you felt like you were losing Wanda, and the thought terrified you. It made your body tremble with fear, your mind shutting down all rational thought.

“Do you like it that much?” you broke the silence, turning to face Wanda with eyes shining with curiosity.

“Like what?” Wanda asked, her voice coming out softer than usual.

“Being my mommy,” you asked, your gaze intense enough to make Wanda shudder.

She tried to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t hide the flush rising up her neck.

“That’s… it’s… I… It’s complicated,” she began, but you just laughed—the Wanda Maximoff stammering in front of you, while your fingers slid lightly down her arm. “It’s not something I ever expected to enjoy.”

You leaned in closer. There was something different now. Your eyes carried a newfound intensity, and you acted as though you were the one in control. Your warm breath neared her, sending shivers down her spine.

“But you do like it, don’t you?” you whispered against her lips. Your tone sounded innocent, but Wanda knew how much of a teasing little brat you could be.

You moved even closer, your hands gently touching her flushed cheeks. “Your face is so warm.” Your fingers slid to her nape, and Wanda’s body visibly reacted to your touch. “Are you running a fever, Mommy?” Your voice carried a soft, needy whine, and Wanda felt herself clench involuntarily.

Wanda closed her eyes, her body acutely aware of the heat radiating from yours so close to her own. And in that moment, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as in control as she liked to believe.

Your eyes burned with a different kind of fire, reflecting the fevered warmth of Wanda’s skin.

“Ah…” Wanda let out a shaky whisper. She was affected — by you, your enigmatic eyes, and your captivating personality. And yet, you somehow gave her the sensation of control she so deeply cherished.“I like it more than I should.” She confessed.

Your proximity excited her, made her speak and act in ways she never imagined she would. You made her sin.

The shift in the room was undeniable. The weight of anguish had been replaced by a dark and dangerously palpable sexual tension.

“You like to play with mommy, don’t you?” Wanda asked, raising her voice.

Wanda slid her hands to your waist, her touch firm but full of affection that seemed to contrast with the fire in her eyes.

“You test me on purpose, and that’s okay, that’s fun.” She whispered, her voice deep and full of control. “But you must remember who’s in charge, Dorogaya.”

Before you could respond, Wanda kissed you fiercely with an urgent plea she’d never felt before. Your innocent teasing drove her crazy. Crazy to make you submit, to discipline you.

Wanda ran her nose along the length of your neck and inhaled the scent there—making you gasp.

“Hmm… are you so receptive, eager to please me?” Like a feline, she purred in your ear.

Wanda lowered one of her hands to touch your sex, and soon noticed the absence of panties.

“My naughty girl… You look so beautiful like this, all ready for me.” She mistreats your hardened nipples with her fingers. “Is it because you want this as much as I do, kitten?”

You let out a shaky, anxious sigh. “Wands…” Wrong!

The woman slaps you hard on your left cheek, making you dizzy.

“That’s not my name!” She growls, squeezing your neck and rubbing your pussy against her thigh.

“Sorry, Mommy…” You say, hearing Wanda moan in approval.

“Good girl.” She strokes your strands superficially. “You learn quickly, don’t you, Y/n?” Wanda’s hand runs over your reddened cheek, almost tenderly.

“Please!” You moan, rocking your hips toward the woman. It doesn’t matter how much you tried to be a brat. Behind four walls, you were nothing more than a dumb little whore for Wanda to use as she pleases.

“Oh. So my little one wants to play rough, huh?” You nod desperately. “Beg for Mommy’s touch! Beg and maybe I’ll give you what you want…”

Wanda’s voice comes out muffled, the woman slides her tongue between the valley of your breasts.

“Please, Mommy!” You hear the woman laugh sadistically, as she watches your weak figure swaying her hips.

“Hmm, sweet words…” Wanda’s voice drips with lust and you, entangled in the atmosphere, steal her lips. The contact is violent.

You bite the woman’s lower lip who groans at the sharp pain.

“Mine…” she murmurs in a deep voice of excitement. “You’re mine. and no matter how much time passes, that will never change…” Wanda’s palms grab your soft breasts, massaging them.

She pinches your nipples precisely, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. She leaned in even closer, her hot breath caressing your ear, and let out a command laden with intent: “And don’t you dare come until I tell you to, or I’ll make you regret begging for my touch.”

Wanda smiled with sadistic glee as she watched you writhe beneath her touch. Your body, so sweet and treacherous, gave away every hidden desire even as you tried to resist, your attempts so weak they were almost adorable.

A wicked smile curved her lips as Wanda leaned in, letting her own cool breath caress your ear.

“See, pet?” She whispered, purring in satisfaction. “Your little clit is so sensitive, so eager for attention… And who else could give it that but me?”

Wanda’s fingers danced over that little throbbing spot, her touch light as a feather. The woman watched the pleasure rip through your body like an electric shock, making you shudder in my hands.

"And it’s all mine to play with now…” Wanda murmured, her voice low and thick with possession. Each word was a soft growl, a threat wrapped in sensual promise.

The older woman began to circle your clit with cruel precision, unlike earlier—she applied just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the edge of oblivion—going and going and going to your edge. Your labored breathing, your soft moans, were music to her ears.

With her middle finger Wanda entered your pussy, stretching it just to use it. “Now, let’s see how long you can hold out before you break and beg for release…”

Her fingers never stopped their torturous dance, the rhythm relentless and deliciously teasing. Wanda pushed you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy, but she always held on, keeping the tension at the perfect point, where pleasure and frustration mixed into something almost unbearable. You were her masterpiece, and Wanda was determined to savor every second of your surrender.

“Aahn… Please! This is torture!” You whimpered, causing her to let out a wicked laugh.

Wanda’s eyes gleamed with dark, wicked pleasure as she heard your desperate moan. Her fingers continued to tease your clit with repetitive, maddening movements. The smell of her arousal is intoxicating, she thought, inhaling deeply. The room was silent except for your panting breaths and the soft, wet sounds of her fingers on your clit.

The woman leaned in, her breath hot against your ear, and whispered,

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that, darling?”

Wanda’s words were a sensual challenge, a promise of pleasure and torment as she continued to circle your sensitive core, always just out of reach. Your skin was so soft, so warm beneath her touch, Wanda always marveled, savoring the contrast with her own cold flesh.

“You want me inside you so badly, don’t you? Want me to claim that tight little pussy as my own?”

Her voice was a dark, seductive whisper, her tone dripping with forbidden desire as she finally plunged two fingers into your quivering, tight opening.

“But first…”

The woman’s fingers began to pump in and out of the slick channel, her touch rough and commanding as she stretched and filled you. You’re so responsive, so eager to please, she thought—a wave of predatory satisfaction coursing through her body.

“You have to earn it, baby… show mommy how good you can be.” The words sounded like an order, a sensual threat that left no room for refusal as she continued to thrust her fingers into you, each thrust deeper and harder than the last.

Part of Wanda wanted to devour you completely, feeling a tug of internal conflict. But prolonging your pleasure… and hers… is so much more satisfying.

Wanda could feel your inner walls contracting around her long fingers, your body shaking with need. The sound of your moans and whimpers filled the air, a symphony of desire that only fueled Wanda’s own dark hunger.

“That’s right, my sweet kitten…” she growled, her voice low and husky with lust. “Let me hear how much you want this… Let me hear how much you love me.”

As she continued to drive you wild, Wanda could not help but revel in the power she had over you. The overwhelming satisfaction coursing through your mature body was almost as intoxicating as the thought of tasting your blood.

You raved, sticking your tongue out, and driving Wanda wild as well—her own hand burning just to slap that little face of yours.

“Fuck me, Mommy!” You growled at her, as you rubbed your coochie against her fingers. “I… I can be good! I will be good! I love you sooo much…!” You screamed the last part, not even remembering that the twins slept in the room down the hall.

Wanda’s body shook in triumph—as if she had regained her power by hearing you say that, by seeing you beg. When she heard your plea, your words were sweet, seductive music to her. With a low, guttural growl, the woman pulled her fingers from your dripping cunt, a trail of slick arousal coating Wanda’s skin as she brought her hand to her mouth.

“Mmm, such a good girl…” The woman’s voice was a dark, approving purr as she licked your essence from her fingers, the taste of your desire fueling Wanda’s own lust.

Determined, Wanda stands up, walking to her own closet and looking for a specific drawer. A hidden drawer locked with a key—her eyes widening at the amount of toys stored there.

“Now, let’s see if you can handle Mommy…” Without waiting for an answer, Wanda positioned herself between your thighs, the cold, hard length pressing against your soaked entrance.

“Hold on tight, baby…” Wanda warns sensually as she slowly thrusts into your suffocating heat, inch by inch claiming your tight, throbbing channel as her own.

“Mommy’s going to ride you hard, baby… and you’re going to accept every inch like the good little slut you are.” Entering the strap-on slowly, noticing you shudder—not being used to the size, Wanda stops her movements and only returns when she sees you nod positively.

The grip around your waist tightens as she feels your body tremble and convulse beneath her; The screams of pain and pleasure were music to your ears. The thrusts grew stronger, each one deeper and more intense than the last, as Wanda claimed your body with a primal, animalistic urgency she had never experienced before.

“That’s it, baby… take Mommy’s cock.” The woman’s voice came out as a guttural growl, her breathing ragged as it thrust in and out of your stretched, slick channel, the sound of flesh slapping against the strap echoing through the room.

“You’re mine now… all mine…” Her hands dug into your hips as she moved with reckless abandon, driven by a hunger that could never be sated.

“So fucking tight… so fucking perfect.” The praise was dark and savage, each word punctuated by the relentless thrusts of Wanda’s hips as she thrust into you, lost in the exquisite sensation of claiming her little girl’s body once and for all.

“Mo-mommy! It’s too much!” I can’t take it!” You roared, and she gripped the flesh of your ass hard in response.

Her hand came down with a resounding slap, the sound echoing around the room as her palm connected with the firm flesh of your ass. Her fingers dug in, kneading the reddened skin as she leaned in close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Oh, but you can, baby… you can take it…” The promise was seductive, a dark and wicked encouragement as she continued to pound into you with brutal, unrelenting force. “Mommy’s almost…” The woman’s hips snapped forward, pushing the entire length even deeper into your quivering channel, the feel of your body clenching around her like a vice driving Wanda wild with lust.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, baby? I’m going to soak Mommy’s cock with your sweet juices…” Wanda’s breath was hot against your skin, a husky, commanding purr as she whispered her own filthy desires, each word a sensual threat that left no room for refusal. “Now, don’t make Mommy wait any longer… Cum for me, baby. NOW!”

Watching the female body in front of her tremble in a powerful orgasm, she noticed your lost gaze, like a trance. Wanda pulls out of you and as she approaches, she sees you lying there, vulnerable and surrendered—your eyes unfocused as if you were floating in another dimension. Your chest rises and falls in an irregular rhythm, your hands rest at your sides, your fingers slightly curled. It’s a state that Wanda knew only superficially, but with you, it seemed even more intense.

“Is everything okay, bunny?” Wanda asked softly, sliding her fingers along the contour of your face, tracing your jaw until they reach your neck.

You don’t answer right away. Your eyes slowly fix on Wanda, as if she was returning from a distant place.

“It's… a lot.” Your voice came out softly, almost inaudible, and you tried to force a smile, but your expression revealed the depth of the moment you were going through.

The woman leaned in, maintaining eye contact with you, and let her hand glide through your sweat-drenched hair. It was an almost mechanical gesture, yet it seemed rooted in something bigger.

“Hey, take a deep breath for me.” Wanda's voice sounded firm, yet she didn’t lose the softness she knew you needed right now.

You closed your eyes and obeyed, struggling to draw in air before slowly releasing it. You repeated the process a few times as Wanda stroked your hair, murmuring comforting words.

“Good girl.” The woman said, seeing the slightest hint of a smile at the corners of your lips.

As Wanda watched you begin to recover, she felt something deep and primal stir within her. The way you trusted her, how you surrendered completely, was proof of something she could barely name, yet it made her feel invincible and vulnerable at the same time.

She continued to stroke your hair with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of what had just happened. Her eyes traced every detail of your face — the skin glistening with sweat, your lips slightly parted, the calm, almost ethereal expression that now replaced the previous turmoil.

“Are you okay, Dekta?” She repeated, though the answer was already there, evident in your calmer breathing and the way your body began to relax under her touch.

"Yeah… I think so," you replied weakly, still not opening your eyes.

Wanda tilted her head, a small smile dancing on her lips as her hand continued the slow, soothing motion in your hair. She could feel the contrast between the warmth of your body and the gentle breeze coming through the window. Everything seemed perfectly in sync, as if the universe had paused for this moment between you two.

When you finally opened your eyes, you met her gaze, a mix of care, possession, and something you couldn’t quite identify. There was something deeper, something that made your heart leap in your chest.

"You need to rest now," Wanda said in a tone that was both an order and a comfort. She brushed back the strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead, her touch as delicate as a feather.

You tried to sit up, still trembling, but Wanda placed a hand on your shoulder, preventing you from moving away.

"Where do you think you're going?" Her voice was firm, but there was no harshness—only determination.

"I… to my room," you said hesitantly, your gaze still uncertain, trying to understand what she wanted.

Wanda leaned in closer, her eyes locking onto yours like an unbreakable spell.

"I want you to lie here and sleep in my arms," she declared, her voice low and heavy with intensity. It wasn’t a request; it was a decision.

Your heart raced again, and for a moment you were at a loss for words. It felt wrong; all of this was wrong, but there was something in her tone, something in the way she looked at you, that made any resistance melt away.

You simply nodded, unable to argue, and let Wanda guide you back down onto the bed. She settled you in with almost reverent care, positioning herself beside you and pulling your body against hers.

As you felt her warmth surrounding you, the familiar scent enveloping her, it was as if all doubts and fears dissolved for a brief moment. Wanda's arms tightened around you, firm yet comfortable, and her hand returned to your hair, continuing the slow, reassuring gesture.

“Sleep, bunny,” she murmured, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you could finally rest.

Holding you in her arms, as if you were her most precious stone—Wanda let her hands glide along the contours of your face, watching your breath settle into the calm of sleep. Her hands trembled for a moment before they closed into fists, the knuckles turning white. She stared at her reflection in the mirror next to the bed—the deep, shadowed eyes revealing an internal battle that seemed endless.

You loved her. You. Loved. her.

The thought reverberated in her mind like a dissonant melody—wrong and delightful at the same time. There was no denying it: she felt alive like she hadn't in a long time. There was something dark in knowing that, even with all the lines that should never be crossed, you had fallen for her, given in to the magnetic force that existed between you.

And Wanda liked it. Liked it a lot.

Guilt pulsed through her veins, like a poison that burned slowly. She knew how wrong it was to feel this way, knew she should push you away, protect you from herself and the implications of what you had confessed. But at the same time, the feeling of being loved so intensely, so absolutely, awakened something in her she didn’t know still existed.

Vision had never looked at her that way. He had never pronounced her name as if it were sacred. He had never shown signs of wanting everything from her. But you? You looked at her as if Wanda were the sun and the only thing in the sky worth admiring.

And it was intoxicating.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to sort through the chaos in her mind. A dark satisfaction crawled through her chest, like a shadow that refused to fade away. She hadn’t done anything on purpose to earn her feelings—or at least, that’s what she told herself. But deep down, she knew there was something terribly selfish about all of it.

She liked being your weakness. Your downfall. Your redemption.

A brief, almost imperceptible smile curved her lips. It wasn’t a smile of pure happiness, but something more complex, more twisted. As if the weight of the wrong choices she hadn’t yet made was already starting to materialize, but the pleasure of being desired outweighed every ounce of remorse.

She opened her eyes, staring at her reflection again. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Wanda Maximoff,” she murmured to herself, her voice low, almost inaudible. 

She couldn’t have you. She knew that. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to be desired. It didn’t mean that, in her darkest moments, she didn’t revel in the idea of having marked you in a way that no one else would ever be able to erase.

“I’m a monster,” she whispered to the mirror, the smile fading. And maybe it was true. But for now, what mattered was that you loved her. Against all odds. Against everything that was right.

And that was enough to feed the fire burning inside her—even if it meant she’d end up consuming herself in the process.

~*~

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k @indentity0018

@beggingonmykneesforher @idkwhatever580 @valentine585 @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld

@mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @bees-for-brains @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @i-luv-w1men @lesbiansweet

[jenctrl]

love is not a walk in the park*ೃ༄

"when something that should be a walk in the park feels like a maze for the feline and canine–at least it's beautiful, serene, and sunny!"

warning; from the blackcat!Y/n series, the parts don't need to be read in order!

a/n: reuploaded from old to new account

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

It was the gentle breeze that pushed the clouds to move, the way there was a faint buzz of bees in the distance, the scent of green grass and soil and the presence of two suns that brought Y/n a serene feeling within her. 

It was as if she was alone, but not lonely because, despite their different nature, Yunjin brought her something she had been missing.

That feeling of inadequacy became faint. 

The words in her book didn’t hold a deeper meaning than her being able to live one life and during that one life being able to feel warmth on her skin despite sitting in the shadow of the tree. 

This was the most normal her life had ever felt which was ironic considering people would disagree because she was an idol. It was though, because she hadn’t been able to live her life more freely than now even with certain restrictions that came with fame and the need to keep a neat image. 

Yunjin basked in the sun where half of the blanket was–the other in the shadow where Y/n sat–these moments were the most peaceful ones she had. In a hectic life, as a person who indulged in the hectic with her energetic personality, Yunjin appreciated that she had Y/n to balance that out for her. 

The scent of cinnamon and benzoin was one she associated with serenity; Y/n’s scent reminded her of how she could wind down at times. 

There was a certain flow to the way her pen moved along the pages of the notebook as she scribbled down lyrics. Those songs she would brush off as silly, knowing she would never release them, that were, at times, about the feline her eyes would glance at now and then. 

What exactly were they about? Yunjin couldn’t figure that out, she couldn’t pinpoint what it was that she described when writing about someone she could write books about. It left her lost, but she kept chasing after the only thing her mind could think of; Y/n.

She wanted to state that she knew Y/n the best which still wasn’t as deeply as some would think that it was. However, Yunjin unlike others was able to figure out Y/n’s disguise; the girl always told one-fourth of a whole story and while the rest took it for the complete version the girl knew that there was more. 

Pretty eyes worn as a disguise. 

She looked up from the notebook and at Y/n who was leaning her back against Yunjin’s side for leverage. 

What exactly was it that she felt for her? So much, too much to simply put it into words, but it surely did make it easier to get words out on paper.

The feline was the perfect muse; Yunjin’s muse.

However, Y/n remained a mystery Yunjin loved being around. 

“What if we made a song together?” 

She casually put it out there, not thinking much of it as she mindlessly doodled on the page, underlining certain words. 

It wouldn’t only get them closer as she would get to spend more time with Y/n, but the girl beside her was amazing with her words. Yunjin would be able to learn; Y/n was highly lyrical and expressed herself in artistic ways Yunjin had yet to grasp. 

“What?” 

Y/n put the bookmark between the pages before she closed the book, her eyes didn’t leave the cover though. Nerves and uneasiness washed over her at the suggestion, her fingers traced along the outlines of the book in her hands, not being able to comprehend why Yunjin would want to write a song with her. Scared that she would get exposed for the fraud she felt like she was in a place she was supposed to fit into, but never felt like she did. 

“I mean we don’t have to release it, but just work on something together like a side project for fun.”

Yunjin shrugged and shifted in her place to turn to Y/n who sat up straight. 

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

That wasn’t the problem that Y/n saw with it, there were many.

“I mean as in; why with me when there are better options?”

The problem was that the girl felt like she was the least sought-after option and Yunjin would acknowledge her for the con that she was. Y/n was sure that she lacked, especially among all these other talented people. She stood out like a sore thumb and for all the wrong reasons; the feline did her best to stay hidden. She didn’t fit in a crowd of people who were talented when there were so many things she could do and have done so much better. 

She had achieved such high things in life, but was that enough? Was she enough? No way. All that she had done, Y/n could have done better, couldn’t she?

“Are you kidding?”

No, Y/n wasn’t kidding and she wasn’t going to entertain it either as she rolled her eyes and looked back down at her book, opening it again. Yunjin knew just how to make everything melt in the end and Y/n didn’t like that; no, it wasn’t that she didn’t like that; she just didn’t understand how Yunjin always managed to do it.

She was so confused about what it was that drew her to Yunjin. She just knew that it was a want; a need. Y/n wasn’t fond of that, especially as someone who had always been independent; she did not want to possibly become even slightly dependent on someone. She could simply ignore her emotions like she always did by occupying herself and pretending that she didn’t need Yunjin when it came to certain things. 

Yunjin smiled, putting down her pen as she huffed and moved to lie down on her back. Her smile didn’t disappear as she loved seeing the feline, who puffed up her fur at moments like these, melt into a puddle just for her. She loved not only the puddle Y/n could be, but she also loved her for the pompous behaviour and the person she was.

Was that it?

Despite her eyes being glued to the words she wasn’t able to read them and she let Yunjin put her head in her lap. Y/n was doing her best to try and ignore her canine, but it was hard to ignore the sun when it was beaming right at her. 

“Y/n, you’re the most competent person I know when it comes to music, especially when it comes to writing lyrics.”

The book got gently moved out of the way, Yunjin being able to see more than the cover as she looked over Y/n’s face and now met her eyes. She was aware that Y/n appreciated compliments, she could see how they worked as reassurance to her feline who she knew was insecure on the inside despite the confident and cold facade. 

Yunjin was always there for the girl; she was a loyal life-long companion for her feline. 

Still, words alone wouldn’t melt away a facade like hers, but Yunjin managed to do it with more than just words. She did it by simply being herself and it left Y/n confused; lost in something that sounded like an easy walk in the park but was like a maze with continuous dead ends. 

“How would you know?”

Comically Yunjin pushed the book back, blocking their sight of each other as she looked off into the distance of the park. 

The green grass gently blew with the wind, the sun beamed strongly and warmed her skin, and the whistle together with the rattling of the branches and leaves above them filled the momentary silence.

However, Y/n put it down onto the blanket they were on and looked at Yunjin with raised eyebrows. As far as Y/n knew she hadn’t shared any of the lyrics she had written and had yet to agree to help with the lyrics for their group's songs. The fear of being caught was too immense.

“I might’ve stumbled upon some papers–” “Yunjin.” Y/n groaned and Yunjin cowered, ducking her head at the bookmark that she was smacked in the head with. 

“To be fair, you gave me your book to read and it just fell out.” She defended with a squeak, peeking up at Y/n with her lower lip now jutted out. 

Y/n heaved a sigh and reclined, lying down on the blanket–Yunjin’s head still resting on her lap–and she stared at the tree above them. The green leaves swayed with the light wind and the sky peeked through the cracks of the branches. She closed her eyes when the sun managed to seep through the cracks and held them closed for a while as her mind started to work a shift.

At the silence Yunjin moved, sitting up and turning to look at Y/n. There was something overly serene about the feline when she looked at her. The bright ray of sun splayed across her face and her dark hair glimmered in the light as she lay with her eyes closed. 

Was it the sun? Yunjin could feel her face heat up at the ethereal view of her feline so comfortable in the open field.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging and resting her chin on them while staring at Y/n. The canine knew she could spend a whole day just looking at the cat-like girl in front of her. 

Her head tilted slightly to the side, “Y/n…” Yunjin carefully started and got a hum in return, watching the hues of the sun reflect on Y/n’s skin. “You’re not mad that I did, are you?” She warily asked because the last thing in the world that she wanted was to make Y/n upset with her. It wasn’t difficult to get Y/n annoyed–Yunjin was aware–but it was difficult to get her upset and angry.

It was extremely rare to see Y/n angry. Matter of fact over the past few years she’s only seen her angry once.

That was enough not to want to see more.

Yunjin held her breath when Y/n blinked her eyes open, squinting slightly at the bright light and her eyes glimmered like water did in the sun. Water Yunjin wanted to dive right into and swim in for an eternity. 

She stared at the girl who looked like a puppy that had been kicked to the curb. It was simply impossible to get upset with Yunjin. It made Y/n purse her lips for a second, the only person she was upset with was herself for being like ice cream in the sun when it came to her companion. 

Y/n exhaled, trying to cool off, but it was impossible when Yunjin’s big doe-like eyes stared at her like the sun. “No, I’m not.” The girl annoyedly admitted and the latter visibly perked up at the words, excitement evident because knowing that her feline wasn’t upset with her brightened her whole world which was filled with butterflies she loved to chase for the feeling. 

“Okay, and I’m sorry…It just happened to fall out and I didn’t know what it was at first so I read it thinking those were notes for the book.”

“I know you wouldn’t read if you knew, it’sfine.” 

Yunjin nodded as she manoeuvred around and lay on her stomach beside Y/n, resting her chin in her palm. Their eyes met as they stared at each other in yet another silence. It felt like a contest when in reality it was simply because neither of them wanted to look away. There wasn’t anything better to stare at in the end.

“Will you make a song with me then?” She at last repeated her question, but in a much smaller voice as if to not startle the girl.

Y/n broke their eye contact, but only to reach into her bag. Yunjin watched as Y/n blindly rummaged through it before she took out what she was looking for.

“Here, let’s look for some inspiration.” Yunjin happily grabbed one airpod and plopped down onto her back beside Y/n who opened her phone. 

“Do you have–” Y/n didn’t get to finish her sentence as Yunjin spoke up, “genuine love, like when you know that you’ve genuinely fallen in love because you are confused about why you fell in love in the first place.” 

The feline lolled her head to the side, coming face to face with Yunjin whose wide eyes gazed at her, a pink tint resting on the canine’s cheeks.

“You’re awfully cliché at times, you know?”

“Love is a cliché we can’t escape though, isn’t it?” 

“Unfortunately.” Y/n agreed and moved closer to the girl, resting her head on Yunjin’s shoulder so they could both look at her phone and be closer. 

The two didn’t need much inspiration though when they had each other.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

[charliedaltonswife]

Thank you for being such a lovely writer! <3 This is a long request but how about a Henry Winter x reader fic where the reader sort of subtly tries to warn Henry to not idolize Julian so much because Julian doesn't care that much about him, he just likes to be looked up to, but Henry believes Julian isn't like that. And after Bunny's death, after Henry goes to Julian only to find he has left and moved away, Henry is distraught and goes to reader for an explanation since Julian has left him with none and she had figured out that would happen. And reader tries to explain to him that Henry is a giving person who helps others but demands the same devotion in return but people are selfish and usually won't reciprocate. But in the end, reader is also the same way as Henry and at least they have each other.

Hope this isn't too much. Thank you in advance!

Give and Take

Henry Winter x reader (The Secret History)

thank you nonnie, i loved the request!

Summary: read the request

Warnings: none i believe

master list found here

The thing about Henry Winter, you’d long since realized, was that he didn’t just love the idea of perfection, he required it. He sought it the way others sought air, his life orbiting around the pursuit of symmetry, elegance, and control. It was in everything he touched, his books, his Greek, his posture when he spoke, even the way he poured his tea, slow and precise, as though to spill even a drop would be an affront to the universe.

And above all, he sought it in people. Julian, for instance.

Julian was everything Henry wanted to be. Polished, serene, a man who seemed to glide through the world without ever touching the ground. He had the air of someone invulnerable, untainted, truly divine. It didn’t matter that his charm was brittle, that his affections were doled out sparingly, as if he were a miser of admiration. Henry couldn’t—or wouldn’t—see it.

“Julian is not infallible,” you’d told him once, early in the fall semester. The words had come out quiet but steady, like a single note cutting through the dense hum of the library.

Henry didn’t look up. He was sitting across from you, hunched over an enormous book of Greek poetry, his sharp features half-draped in shadow. The dim light of the desk lamp cast a warm, golden glow over the worn wood of the table, catching on the sharp line of his jaw and the furrow of his brow. In that light, he looked almost unreal, like a figure carved from stone, a statue brought to life.

His pen continued its steady movement, underlining a passage with such precision it could have been drawn by a ruler. “I never said he was,” he replied, his voice clipped, his eyes fixed on the page.

“You act like it,” you countered, leaning back in your chair.

That made him pause. It was subtle, just the faintest hitch in his movement, but it was enough to let you know he’d heard you. He always heard you, even when he pretended not to.

Finally, he looked up, his pale, glacial eyes locking onto yours. There was something cutting in his gaze, something that made you feel as though he could see straight through to the core of you. “Maybe you don’t understand him,” he said, his tone even but edged with a quiet reproach.

“Maybe not,” you conceded, tilting your head as you studied him. “But I think I understand you.”

His brow furrowed slightly, the faintest flicker of something—curiosity, irritation—crossing his face before vanishing. “And what exactly do you think you understand?”

“You’re loyal,” you said, your voice soft but unyielding. “Devoted, even. When you care about someone, you give them everything. And that’s… rare. But Henry, not everyone deserves that from you. Not everyone is going to give it back.”

“Julian does,” he said firmly, the words landing between you like the final note of a symphony.

You tilted your head, letting the silence linger for a moment before speaking. “Are you sure?”

His expression didn’t change, but you saw it—the flicker of doubt, so brief it could have been a trick of the light. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that impenetrable certainty that was so uniquely Henry.

“I don’t need you to analyze my relationships,” he said, his tone like the sharp snap of winter wind against your skin.

You didn’t press him further. It wasn’t the kind of thing he’d accept, not then. But the thought lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind as the weeks turned into months.

- 

The common room of Francis’s apartment was dimly lit, the amber glow of the floor lamp barely cutting through the haze of cigarette smoke that hung in the air like a shroud. You sat curled up in one of the threadbare armchairs, a cup of coffee cradled in your hands, though it had gone cold long ago.

Francis sat opposite you, sprawled out on the sofa in a way that made him look boneless. His long legs stretched across the cushions, one arm draped over the back of the couch, the other holding a half-empty glass of something dark and strong. He looked as he always did—like he belonged in some black-and-white photograph, all sharp cheekbones and careless elegance. But there was something brittle in his expression tonight, something that even the lazy curl of smoke rising from his cigarette couldn’t mask.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. He brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaled deeply, then exhaled in a long, slow stream of smoke. “Even for you.”

You shrugged, your gaze fixed on the swirling patterns in your coffee. “Just thinking.”

“God, don’t do that. It never ends well,” he said dryly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Despite yourself, you smiled, a small, fleeting thing. “And you’re unusually sober. Even for you.”

Francis raised an eyebrow, lifting his glass in a mock toast. “But don’t mistake this for sobriety. It’s more strategic pacing.”

You rolled your eyes, setting your coffee cup down on the low table between you. “Strategic, right. That’s what we’re calling it now.”

He watched you for a moment, his gaze sharp and assessing. Then, leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and tapped his cigarette against the edge of the ashtray. The movement was fluid, practiced, like everything Francis did. “Alright, out with it. What’s got you looking so… tragic?”

You hesitated, your fingers curling around the edge of your sleeve. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he said bluntly, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not the brooding type, not really. Leave that to Henry. Or Charles, for that matter.”

At the mention of Henry, your chest tightened, but you pushed the feeling aside. “It’s just been… a lot. Everything with Bunny, the group, the way things feel like they’re unraveling—”

“Darling,” Francis interrupted, his tone cutting but not unkind, “things unraveled a long time ago. We’re just standing in the wreckage, pretending it still looks like a tapestry.”

You blinked at him, startled by the stark truth of his words. Francis rarely ventured into sentimentality, but when he did, it was like being slapped with ice water.

“You don’t have to make it sound so… fatalistic,” you said, your voice quieter now.

He gave a humorless laugh, leaning back against the couch and letting his head fall against the cushion. “I’m not making it sound like anything. I’m just stating the obvious. Look at us. We’re a disaster waiting to happen. Or, more accurately, a disaster that’s already happened and is still somehow managing to make things worse.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “That’s comforting.”

“I’m not here to comfort you,” Francis said lightly, though there was an edge to his tone. “If you want comfort, go find someone who doesn’t know you as well as I do.”

You shot him a glare, but it lacked any real venom. “You’re a real joy to be around, you know that?”

He smirked, reaching for his glass and taking a slow sip. “I try.”

For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the only sounds were the faint hum of the heater and the soft clink of ice in Francis’s glass. The weight of the conversation lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken.

Finally, he broke the quiet. “For what it’s worth, you’re not the only one who’s… struggling.”

You looked at him, surprised by the admission. Francis wasn’t exactly the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve.

“I mean, God knows we’re all walking around with more baggage than we know what to do with,” he continued, his gaze fixed on the cigarette in his hand. “I mean Henry acts all stoic and all, but… well you know him.”

The words were unexpected, and they settled over you like a balm, soothing but not erasing the ache.

“Yes, Francis,” you said softly.

He waved a hand dismissively, “Now, finish your tragic coffee and let’s talk about something less depressing. Like how terribly I plan to behave at tomorrow’s dinner.”

You laughed, the sound light and unforced for the first time in what felt like days. And for a moment, just a moment, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

-

It was well past midnight when the knocking came, sharp and urgent, cutting through the thick, muffled quiet of your dorm room.

You stirred awake, your heart pounding from the suddenness of it. Fumbling in the dark, your hand searched for the lamp, brushing clumsily against the stack of books on your nightstand before finally finding the switch. The warm light washed over the room, revealing the disarray of papers, books, and scattered cigarette butts that had become your constant companions.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled to the door, apprehension prickling at the back of your neck. When you opened it, the sight that greeted you made you freeze.

Henry.

His hair was a disheveled mess, strands falling into his eyes in a way that would have driven him mad under normal circumstances. His face, usually so composed, was pale and drawn, the dark circles under his eyes making him look almost gaunt. And his posture—always so upright, so deliberate, had crumbled, his shoulders slumped as though he were carrying the weight of the world on them.

“I went to see Julian,” he said, his voice raw and frayed at the edges.

You stepped aside without a word, letting him in. He moved past you like a ghost, his steps heavy and uneven, and sank onto the edge of your bed, his head bowed, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

Closing the door, you turned to face him, your heart twisting painfully at the sight of him. He looked… lost.

“Yes, and?” you prompted, your voice cautious but steady.

“He’s gone,” Henry said, the words trembling as they left his lips. “His office is empty. His house, too. He’s gone.”

You inhaled sharply, the confirmation hitting you like a blow to the chest. You’d suspected it, of course. Julian had been withdrawing for weeks, his attention scattering like leaves in the wind. But hearing it, seeing the hollow look in Henry’s eyes, was something else entirely.

“I tried to warn you,” you said gently, sitting down beside him. Your movements were slow and deliberate, as if you were afraid he might shatter if you got too close too quickly. “Have you a lighter?”

Henry turned to you then, his gaze sharp and accusatory. “You knew?”

“I didn’t know,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “But I had a feeling. Henry, Julian… he’s not like you. He doesn’t give himself to people the way you do.”

Henry’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his face working as he went into his pocket to hand me a lighter. “He cared about us. About me.”

“I’m sure he did,” you said softly, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on your nightstand. “But not the way you think.” You lit the cigarette, the faint orange glow illuminating the tension etched into his features. “Julian likes being admired. He likes being needed. But when things got messy, when it stopped being about him, he checked out.”

Henry laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that cut through the quiet. “And you didn’t think to tell me this earlier?”

“I tried,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t want to hear it.”

The silence that followed was heavy, oppressive, pressing down on both of you like a physical weight.

“You give too much,” you said finally, breaking the silence. Your voice was soft, almost mournful. “You expect people to give back the same way. But most people… they’re not like you, Henry. They take and take, and they leave you with nothing.”

He turned to you then, his pale eyes glassy but piercing. “Is that what you think of me?” he asked, his voice low and bitter. “That I’m some fool who doesn’t know better?”

“No,” you said firmly, holding his gaze. “I think you’re extraordinary. And I think it’s tragic that the world doesn’t know what to do with someone like you.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours.

“So, you’re like me then?” he said, his voice quiet but certain.

You nodded, your throat tight. “I suppose.”

And for the first time that night, you saw it, he faintest flicker of something in his eyes. Not peace, not exactly. But something close.

And as you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder, you thought that maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

a/n: so i woke up to a lot of requests (I LOVE THEM ALL BTW, THIS IS NOT ME TELLING YOU TO STOP), but i just wanted to say thank you all, and being the very critical person I am, i hope to fucking god im not fucking up your ideas!!!