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romanoffsbish · 1 year ago

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Kissing Booth

Natasha Romanoff x F!R (College AU)

Tired of your girlfriends on and off kind of love, you set off to see just how invested she is in keeping you | WC: 2,848

Warnings: Toxic-Ish themes | Jealous Nat | Blood

Smut: Public | Jean-Riding (R) | Oral (R) | Degradation (Slut)

18+ | Minors DNI

"Y/N Y/L/N's pledge to the campuses first ever, Mental Wellness Festival is: a one woman booth meant to stimulate your joy receptors; a smooch of serotonin. Fellas, swing on by and steal a kiss, from the palm of my hand, and enjoy your sweet treat. Ladies and They's lean in closer love, if you set the right price, you can take the grand prize—a kiss of your choosing; my lips taste like artificial cherry and melted chocolate if that's of any interest to you. All proceeds go to a fund set in place to create better avenues for those suffering to cope with their hefty course loads as they manage heavy thoughts too." Natasha read the words over and over again in her traumatized mind until her pure feelings came to a boil as she huffed and ripped the paper off of the wall of every place she'd found it.

———

It didn't matter though. Because even though she took them down within the same hour they'd gone up, when she stepped onto the quad lit up by stadium lights she saw that your booths line had wrapped around the diamond twice in the five minutes that it was open.

Her fists clenched briefly as she saw Wanda and Carol, her sorority sisters, eagerly stood in line. Then she shook her head with a near manic laugh. The redhead truly felt bad for the other people here who thought that you'd actually kiss them on their mouths. Foolish to even dream of it really, because you knew better than to let them taint your sweet lips with their lust.

Theirs was carnal; vile another way to express that they wouldn't care for you like she would. Hers was soul crushing, but in the euphoric sense, because you knew no matter what happened between you two, that you were never alone. Natasha might be away, or distant, but she'd never leave you to become another's prey.

Far too perfect for her to lose to her traitorous sisters. They'd be dealt with later, but right now, your (ex) girlfriend had to focus on creeping in the shadows. Watching to see just how far you'd push her buttons.

All Natasha needed was your patience for a month, not even the full thirty days honestly. It was only meant to be a break so that she could focus on her studies, the way her A+'s, and full marks had dropped to A-'s had scared her into thinking that space would help fix it.

It didn't, but she pretended it did because she could not psych herself out of sticking to her desired path. You clearly lacked the patience and respect only your mommy could teach you. The exams are literally next week, you've been so good up until this final stretch. Not bothering her with physical ambushes, or even texting her, which she actually scolded you for, to which you re-shared your location with her just to limit the contact you'd have to make with her through text.

That hurt her feelings a bit, but she refused to wallow in the mess that she'd made. Your feelings were hurt first, and the aftermath treated hers no kinder, and lord knows this wasn't the first time she's done this.

That was in high school, junior year, and you were distraught by the decision. Then Summer came with apologies, and forgiveness. Now, in your fourth and final year of undergrad, you're just used to it. For some reason she just kept getting away with it unscathed...

Until now at least.

The woman you craved watched you with dilated eyes that caught everything. She's only hiding to see who you flirt with, genuinely, and consequently putting them on her list of people whose life she must now ruin in relation to you. Her mind raced when you let an older woman peck your cheek, she had only given you $500, and yet you let the corners of your lips brush.

Natasha growled in place of a whimper, she couldn't get the infuriating image out of her mind, her eyes burned with frustration as she pictured you and the football captain's girlfriend leaving the field together.

The redhead wouldn't let that happen. Darcy Lewis, the gifted scientist, and lover to a Mr. Sam Wilson, would leave here sooner in a body bag than with you.

Natasha pictured shoving the overzealous woman off of a cliff, then she'd return so she could approach you as she dug in her deep crossbody fanny pack, to then slam her wad of cash into the full jar, pull you up into a bruising kiss, and lift the bowl as she kicked the table over, helping flip to the red closed sign for good.

It was $4,000 in hard cash, money she'd just pulled out this morning to get a cashiers check for rent and to pay her other bills; Natasha was pissed, you sure felt that in the way that she harshly nibbled on your lips, cracking open the silky smooth skin; bright red blood smeared your coffee stained teeth. Everyone's whispers of fury and shock were drowned out as your heart pounded wildly in your chest. Natasha hungrily sought out this elevated moment where she took a chance and recklessly guided your body around the corner until she could slam you up against a random concrete wall.

.... It paid off.

"Oh fuck," you huffed as your exposed upper back brushed against prickly vines, the crisp chill in the air instantly solidifying your blood against your skin. You could hardly care about the pain though as Natasha's thigh brushed against the bare cunt you'd sported beneath your skirt the entire night. That shiny metal chair was dripping with your essence as you saw your soulmate (ex-girlfriend) watching you with fury.

You were drenched, painfully needy, and screaming: "Natasha please—god I'm so fucking wet right now!"

"I know you are slut," she growled as her sharp canines grazed over the throbbing veins of your jugular. "I can feel your sticky mess through my jeans." You mewled at the rough press of your slick cunt to her pants, it had you seeing staticky stars. If she kept up a steady pace you were certain to be discovering galaxies. "Mmm, I need to cum mommy, need to cum so bad, please!"

"Yeah?" She scoffed, and you nodded frantically. "Well I need my money back, but instead I've donated it to do with these lips as I please so how about you shut it."

You didn't heed her warning, "Please, I'm sorry..."

"So fucking greedy," she growled, the glare she held as she pulled away from your neck sparked a thrill of fear to run straight to your core, your pretty eyes plead for reprieve, and naturally, the redhead gave in. "Go ahead slut, but make sure to let them hear you." Natasha's arms flexed as she expertly guided your core against the rough material of her jeans, and so you moaned out into the world her outwardly embarrassing title, letting everyone know they never stood a chance, it was a beautiful symphony to your on and off again lover that ended on a high note when she heard a familiar gush.

While you heavily panted, desperately breathing in the crisp night air that chilled your lungs into a hitch, she reveled in how the delicate rumble felt against her lips that were spread against the thin skin of your throat. Her tongue darted out, licking up the salty layer atop of your tacky skin, her teeth brushed back down, going the opposite way her tongue just had. The redheads goal of an endgame was etched into your exposed skin.

Your collarbones now decorated with her marks; ones that spoke of jealousy, and paired with a fragile love. You whimpered softly, the way her wet lips suckled on the already marked skin of your thudding pulse point bled off into the more painful side of things. Her wet tongue slid over the same spot in apology, then her lips founds yours after she kissed up the side of your neck.

Natasha's lips pressed against yours much softer than before, but you could tell she was frustrated with you. Which was fair, and matched as you stewed yourself, a part of you did feel guilty, but mostly, you felt broken.

But you weren't about to cry, no, you'd rather get mad.

It was what the naive asshole had earned. Natasha was great, a caring girlfriend who looked to you to smother with all of her love, the last six years together were a dream come true. A dream that faded into a nightmare whenever she becomes stressed, becoming someone you hardly recognize. She'd become dismissive, cold and quick to call for a blip; a break in your sacred union. Each time she said the same thing, "Just a bit of space is all I need, we'll be okay, mommy promises."

It was what she needed—never you, but she made it seem as if you'd happily agreed to her conditional love. As if letting you feel like her life could only improve if you were to leave it was something you took positively.

You were young, and carefree but not dumb enough to not know this wasn't healthy and maybe for your own petty thrill, you wanted to test her very limits. To see if she might just see what she risks losing, but you feel like all she got from this was more frustration. It only took a moment for her to huff that angrily against your chapped lips. "All I asked of you was for time Y/N."

You leaned your head back and pouted, eyes soft like a wounded puppy's. "We're better together Tasha."

Natasha sighed, "I know detka," she conceded with ease, her guilty face falling into the crook of your neck as she took in a calming breath. "I've been miserable without you honey, but we had to know that this could work. I'm going to have to travel for work, and I don't want to have to worry about you entertaining others."

"I'd never cheat," you hissed, "You asked for a break, that means we're no longer in a relationship Natasha."

"That's not what I meant and you know it Y/N," her nails dug into your sides. "Never have we ever ran a kissing booth during one, now stop being so difficult."

"I'm not being difficult Natasha, I'm doing charity work, and having a bit of fun as I do it." You shrugged and she frowned. "So breaking my heart is fun?"

You sighed softly, unwilling to unpack the hypocrisy of her words, "The only way this works out is if only your body leaves me in those times, but if you're saying random bouts of silence is the final answer th—." Nat cut you off, "You stopped texting Y/N, not me."

"Yeah, because you just wanted a 'good morning' and 'night' or an 'I'm home' after my classes got out, and you'd simply like it. Not even a 'morning love' or a 'glad you made it home safe' or an 'I love you.' in response."

"I needed to focus on school," she tried to defend, it was a pathetic excuse, and you both knew it. "Then you can do that Natasha, but I won't be waiting for you anymore, these breaks in affection are killing me."

"What? I-." You pressed your hands to her shoulders and attempted to push her away but she fiercely stood her ground. "What are you saying Y/N? Because I—."

"Need to let me go," you tiredly replied, "If I, um, if our relationship is too much of a problem for you on your journey to success then it's best we end this now."

Natasha's heart froze in her chest, the idea made her ill. "No!" Natasha fell to her knees, lips brushing over your abdomen before her hands lifted your skirt, and then her nose was nudging the wet skin of your thigh beside your cunt. "I'll do better honey, I swear to it." Her lips trembled, "No more breaks," her voice cracked and your heart sank. Your hands fell to the outline of her head that was buried beneath your skirt, her erratic breaths fanned across the sticky mess between your thighs and your body shivered. "Natasha, get up."

You felt the godly crafted curve of her nose nudge your clit as she shook her head, your mind was reeling with desperation, the same as her words. "I'm insane Y/N, clearly, because my reckless hypocrisy nearly lost me you, but I'm not so crazy that I'd actually let you go."

"Nat..." your muttering of her name cut off in a shaky breath as you felt her shake her head again, the thin twigs snapped as you threw your head back. "No," she murmured against the slick curve of your labia, a wet kiss made your hip jolt off the wall and slip more of her face between your folds. "You are my home Y/N."

Your heart stuttered as you heard her sniffle, her warm tears cascaded over the slick of your thighs and soaked into the cracks of your kneecaps. Hurting her wasn't something you relished in, but it was also necessary.

You knew that up until now things had been toxic, but you also knew your threat of dissolution wouldn't be dismissed. Natasha wouldn't let you go, she'd fell for you way back in middle school, she had the diary's in a locked drawer outlining your future together, the stars were aligned well before you knew, and they officially clicked when she made her move sophomore year.

After puberty gave her a much needed confidence boost she'd asked you out, using homecoming as an excuse, and you didn't hesitate to say yes. She kissed you after walking you home, her mind shifted when her lips pressed into yours, giving her a taste, and from that moment forward she has held on possessively.

Which is why you knew the moment your flyers went up that she would be all over you. A minute part of you lived for these raw moments where the insecurities her distance had created are edged out of your wary mind. Natasha wasn't a fan of breaking your heart either, but with who her parents are you can show her some grace, her expression was clearly a byproduct of their neglect.

Especially when she worked your body so perfectly. "Mmm, fuck," you gasped abruptly, mind exceptionally fuzzy as her despair had turned into the sloppiest head you'd ever received in your life. The noises were lewd, not even the school's festival could drown her out the more her tongue lavished away at your oozing cunt.

Natasha forgot what it was like to breathe for a long moment, her nose and mouth too busy working together to keep your mind fuzzy from pleasure. It was also her way of relishing the time she spent with your intimacy, fear clawing at her heart that this could be it.

The final time she was able to make you cry out her name, to make you feel this good, to love you as she always should. Her mind ran wild with the thought that you might've been scoping out your next lover tonight—could Wanda or Carol be better suited for you? No! She shook her head again and you came, crying out for her—you needed her, and her alone.

Natasha's nails dug into your ass, spreading your cheeks so that she could delve even further into your core with her tongue. Intent solely on drinking you dry, not that she ever really could, no matter how much she lapped away you never failed to become wet again. It was a vicious cycle that she endured with glee.

Your essence was something she always savored, but in this exact moment she found herself rushing to clean it up, her body now plagued with a persistent urge to cry.

Tears and slick intermixed on your thighs, creating their own slippery consistency that led to the redhead falling further into you as she tried to push herself up. You chuckled slightly before reaching a hand down to help her to her feet, the humor dying as soon as her face was leveled with yours. It was hard to feel joy when the love of your life looked so damn despaired.

"Oh Tasha," you coo'd, hands gentle as they cupped her wet cheeks. "Please, don't leave me detka," she sobbed, her slick hands laid over yours, attempting to keep the comfort of your touch on her, even if it was forced. Fortunately, your intent was only to bring her closer as you pulled her face forward and into a sloppy kiss. The way she whimpered at the affection solidified your choice to stay and fight for the love you knew existed.

"Take me home baby, these lips are yours to keep."

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ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

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In Silent Screams (3/3)

Chapter word count: 11.8k+ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision (past) Warnings in this part: Smut (F/F), Angst, Gaslighting, Blackmail, Mild attempted sexual assault

A/N: This is probably the most uncomfortable fic I've written after In Flames (for good reason lol), so I'm nothing short of amazed if you were able to go through every line in this three-parter. P.S. For some reason, third part was the hardest to write for me, I guess it's because a lot of the scenes now are the same ones from In Flames after R found out and switching perspectives was a lot harder than I anticipated :P

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It all feels like a dream, starting from the moment she opens her eyes and a few rays of light have filtered through the slats of the blinds. For a few moments Wanda pretends she’s back to that day—to that first morning she woke up next to you as your wife. She can still vividly recall the setting: your old bedroom in Montauk. Less than a year out of college, both you and Wanda were being frugal about the whole marriage thing, opting out of checking into a hotel after the festivities the night before.

Wanda smiles to herself at the fond memory. She glances to the side, and the alarm clock reads 5:30. It's too early to be waking you up, or anyone in this sleepy town. Nevertheless, she has to talk herself into extricating herself from your arms if she wants to pull off a very special breakfast-in-bed. A hesitant decision, a quiet sigh, and Wanda's slowly pulling herself from the warmth of the bed. The wood floor feels cool against her bare feet, prompting her to reach for one of your used polo shirts hanging over the back of the desk chair.

She enters the kitchen, her hands immediately getting to work. The spinach and mushroom are her first go-to, swiftly layered with day-old bread, and custard mix, forming the base for her strata. Next come the eggs, which she sets to poach, anticipating the smooth burst of yolk that'll cascade over the muffin once all is said and done. And then finally, bacon—your favorite.

Sparky trots into the kitchen, inevitably drawn by the wafting aroma, his tail wagging in tandem with his eagerness. He settles by her feet, watching with those pleading puppy eyes, occasionally letting out a quiet whine that speaks of his impatience and hope. Wanda chuckles, bending down to ruffle his fur. “You think this will get you a piece, huh?” she teases. But, she already knows that she'll give in, sneaking him a piece or two. He's your and Wanda's baby after all.

After she’s finished plating the meal, she sets them on a tray and carefully carries it back to the bedroom. The morning sun presents itself more boldly, almost spotlighting you in bed. Your face is tucked beneath a pillow, the sheets haphazardly pooled around your waist, revealing the bare expanse of your back, without a care in the world. Warmth floods Wanda's chest. She places the tray on a nearby desk.

Breakfast can wait.

Slipping into bed behind you, she becomes a shadow to your form. Her fingers gently trace the curve of your shoulder, lightly skimming over your skin. A shiver runs through her, and she lowers her lips to your nape. The temptation is too great, and soon, her tongue joins the fray, drawing a wet path down your spine. And then, unable to stop herself, she begins to rub herself against you, a soft moan escaping her lips. The sheer fabric of the polo shirt she's wearing, infused with your scent, rubs tantalizingly against her sensitized skin, heightening her need.

She can't stop thinking about last night, and the times before. She can't stop thinking about you—having you, being had by you. However, as your muscles start to tense, indicating the micro movements of your awakening body, a soft “fuck” slips from Wanda's lips, distracting her rhythm. She waits, a small smile tugging at her lips, silently asking if you're ready to greet the day—together.

You lazily roll onto your back, causing Wanda to reposition herself, now straddling your abdomen. With a drowsy smirk, your eyes half-lidded, you murmur, “Good morning,” squinting at the enthusiastic goddess—my wife, you think possessively to yourself— hovering above you.

Her face lights up, her morning energy nearly palpable. “Morning,” she chirps back, leaning down to capture your lips in a short but sweet kiss. Breaking away only slightly, she gives you a playful eskimo kiss, her nose rubbing affectionately against yours. A giggle escapes you, and she continues until you feel her nose scrunch up from how hard she’s smiling, all the while relishing the sound of her laughter.

When she's done teasing you, she buries her face in your neck. Drawn to the soft, milky expanse of her thighs, your hands begin to wander. As your fingers brush the curve where her thigh meets her hip, the subtle absence of fabric gives you pause. She's without a stitch beneath your polo. Your thumb ventures further south, discovering the dampness tangled in her soft curls. Heat surges to your cheeks, and you bite your lip, stifling a moan.

Wanda notices the slight change in your expression and a devilish smirk forms on her lips. “Seems like you found a little surprise,” she teases.

“Did I?” you smirk, tracing the V-line leading to her hidden treasure, teasing her a little. Wanda's breath catches, her pupils blown. But just as she readies herself for whatever comes next, you suddenly shift upwards, unbalancing her slightly. Reflexively, her legs wrap around your waist, anchoring herself to you. Her hands fly to your shoulders, gripping them for support. With a swift move, you part the front of the polo she’s wearing, exposing the smooth curve of her breast to the cool morning air.

The sudden exposure makes her gasp, but before she can utter a word, you close the distance, taking a hardened nipple into your mouth. Her face contorts in unabashed pleasure, her world spinning as you draw her deeper and deeper into your mouth. It's messy and primal, yet at the same time, it's reverent and sacred—something she has only ever experienced with you. She can't help but squirm, fingers threading through your hair, pulling you closer, urging you on.

Keeping an arm firmly around her waist to ensure she stays secure, your free hand travels down her belly, fingers tracing a sultry path to her soaked center. You leisurely trace her slick folds, gathering her arousal, playing with it.

“Please, baby,” she arches and bucks, grinding her hips, “more...I need more.”

Your lips twist into a devious smirk, reveling in her desperation. Drawing back slightly, you gaze at the flushed, vulnerable state of her, taking a moment to commit the image to memory. “I love it when you’re this needy…” you rasp, the tease evident in your tone.

Oh, but she is. She needs you to claim her, time and time again. She never wants to be anything else other than yours once more.

You lean back in, trailing a path of searing kisses from her collarbone, down to the valley between her breasts. Without warning, you nip at her tender flesh, causing her to let out a surprised gasp. Marking her further, you suck and bite gently, leaving a trail of reddened spots, declaring your claim on her. With every purple bruise you leave, Wanda's moans grow more desperate, more wanton.

When you finally lift your head, her chest is littered with bites, then with a wicked grin, you dip your finger into her wetness once more, circling her entrance but never dipping inside.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I... I want you,” she admits breathlessly, biting her lower lip, eyes pleading. “Please, I need you inside.”

Not wanting to make her wait any longer, you slide two fingers into her, curling them expertly. Wanda's body arches off the bed, her inner walls instantly tightening around your digits, pulling them deeper. Every sound that spills from her lips, the way her body arches, trying to get closer, to feel more of you, tells you just how good you’re making her feel.

Your thumb finds her clit, rubbing it in tight circles, while your fingers continue to piston in and out of her. The room is filled with the sound of Wanda's ragged breaths and the wet, slick noises of your fingers moving within her. As you feel her body tense further, you take a chance and slide a third finger into her, stretching her, filling her completely. The sensation of being so full sends Wanda over the edge.

“Oh, God!” she gasps, her back arching, eyes squeezed shut. Her hands grip your shoulders tightly, knuckles white from the intensity of her climax. Her inner walls spasm around your fingers, coating them with her release, her entire body trembling in the throes of ecstasy.

You keep up the pace, not wanting to stop until she's wrung out from pleasure. Each stroke of your fingers sends aftershocks rippling through her. When it finally becomes too much, Wanda grabs your wrist.

“Enough,” she breathes out, a sated smile curling her lips.

You can't resist the allure of the taste she's left on your fingers. You raise them to your lips, deliberately and slowly, letting her watch as you savor her taste. The move earns a flustered gasp from her.

“You taste so good,” you murmur, your voice low and husky.

Wanda's cheeks redden, but her eyes darken once more, filled with a burning intensity. “Your turn,” she whispers, reaching for you.

Thirty minutes before she can call it a day, the sound of a knock on her office door sends a ripple of tension through Wanda.

She knows that knock all too well.

Taking a deep breath, she calls out, “Yes?” even as she mentally braces herself for who might be on the other side.

The person almost immediately steps in, and—unfortunately, she's correct about who she thinks it might be. Before she can utter a word, he says, “You know, I can't just come in without an appointment, right?”

“Exactly, Vision. You shouldn't be here without—” she starts to say, but he interrupts her by triumphantly holding up an appointment slip.

His cheeky grin widens. “Got one right here.”

Wanda eyes the slip, pursing her lips as she thinks of a retort, keeping her guard up. The game has changed, but Vision's audacity, it seems, remains the same.

“Alright, what do you want? And I wouldn’t entertain anything that doesn’t have to do with the course.”

“Just some clarification about our last lecture,” he says as he closes the door behind him, audibly locking it. Wanda maintains her composure, not letting it show that the small act alarms her in the slightest.

“Go on,” Wanda prompts, leaning back slightly against her desk, arms crossed defensively.

But Vision, without missing a beat, launches into something entirely different. “I miss you,” he starts, and Wanda's posture stiffens, her fingernails reactively digging into her arms rather painfully. “I realize I messed up, Wanda. I do. But I can change.”

“Vis—” she warns, trying to interrupt him, but he barrels on, his voice filled with desperation.

“And if, by any chance, you're pregnant, I'll step up. I promise. I'll be responsible,” he continues, his voice quivering slightly. “You have no idea how happy I’ll be if you are.”

“I'm not pregnant,” Wanda whispers, struggling to keep her emotions in check. It's one thing for him to disregard her boundaries and be reckless with his words, but to assume that she would continue a pregnancy, knowing he's the father? Even the thought of it is sickening.

“And I would still choose not to be even if you were successful in your plans,” she adds, just to spite him.

Vision looks as if he might be sick, his complexion turning pallid, and a faint sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. Wanda has never seen him struck by her words this hard, and she realizes she doesn't have any idea what he might do next.

“I just... I thought…” he stammers, eyes glistening, “I just wanted to matter to you, b-by—”

“By what, Vision?” She cuts him off, her tone icy. “Hoping you'd lock me down by trying to knock me up?”

Vision’s face crumples further, tears spilling over. For all his stature—tall, lanky yet broad-shouldered—in this moment, he's stripped of that facade. His body shake as he tries to hold back sobs. “I didn't... I didn't think it through,” he manages to say between choked breaths.

Wanda almost pities him, but she shakes her head. “If you’re not here for school, you need to leave.” Her voice is cold, but inside, she's fighting a storm of guilt for the hurt she sees in him.

Just then, the shrill ring of Wanda's phone startles them both simultaneously. Vision's eyes dart to the screen as her caller ID lights up, displaying your name. In a split second, desperation and panic take hold of him. He lunges for the phone, but Wanda is quicker. She swiftly grabs it from her desk, tucking it safely into her purse.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she hisses, her back pressing against the desk.

Vision's eyes burn with an intensity that chills her. Taking slow, deliberate steps, he looms over her, his presence imposing in the small confines of her office. “That’s her, isn’t it?” he demands with barely suppressed jealousy. “She's coming to get you now?”

Wanda backs away slightly, her breathing erratic. “Vision, you need to think—”

“I am thinking.” His voice drops to a low, menacing growl. He tilts his head, eyes never leaving hers. “And maybe I'm thinking of doing something you won't like.”

“No!” Wanda pleads. “Look, Vision—okay, okay, let’s talk. Just not here. We can go to your place.”

His gaze narrows, considering her offer. “When?”

“Soon.”

Vision shakes his head. Not good enough.

“Tomorrow,” he states without room for argument, his eyes drilling into hers. “Same time. Like we used to.” The allusion to their previous meetings isn't lost on her.

Wanda's throat constricts, “Fine,” she whispers, barely audible, a clear note of dread in her voice. She hates the familiarity of this situation. Most of all, she hates that she's put herself in this position to begin with.

Suddenly, Vision reaches out, his fingers nearly brushing the side of her face. Wanda instinctively shrinks back, but the space between the desk and Vision offers her little room to escape. Her back is to the wall, both literally and figuratively. She can feel the cold press of the desk behind her, contrasting with the heat emanating from Vision's body. It’s obvious what he's thinking, what he's restraining himself from doing.

Horrified and trapped, Wanda closes her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. But instead of the touch she anticipates, she hears Vision's harsh intake of breath. The realization that she's retreated from him seems to strike a nerve.

Without another word, Vision pulls away sharply, as if burnt. He turns on his heel, storming out of her office. As soon as he’s gone, her legs give out from under her and she slides down to the cold floor, clutching her chest as she struggles for air. The walls of her office seem to close in on her, trapping her in her own spiraling thoughts.

As the room begins to blur, the sharp buzz of her phone breaks through her spiraling thoughts. Instinctively, she reaches into her purse, pulling out the phone. Your name illuminates the screen, and with it comes a flood of emotions—relief, safety, love.

The mere thought of you—so close, just beyond these walls—stops a panic attack from consuming her.

“Would you like to go bowling?” Wanda asks you as soon as she fastens her seat belt.

The randomness of the suggestion takes you aback, and a hearty laugh escapes your lips. But as you glance over to see Wanda's reaction, expecting to see her sharing in the moment's levity, you're met with a pained expression.

Your smile fades immediately, replaced by concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

Wanda mentally curses herself, realizing just how easily you can read her, see past her defenses. Needing to come up with something plausible, she quickly blurts out, “I had something super spicy when you called earlier. Didn't handle it too well, it seems.”

The corners of her mouth quirk up in a weak attempt at a reassuring smile, hoping you'd buy the lie, or at least not press further.

You don’t. “Hmm… how about we take Sparky out for a stroll today?” you suggest.

“A walk sounds great,” Wanda replies, her voice softening.

“Good,” you say, starting the car. “Let's head to the park. A bit of nature might do us both some good.”

The engine rumbles softly as you shift the gears, transitioning smoothly from one to the next. And then, almost instinctively, you reach out to take Wanda's hand, your fingers lacing with hers in a gentle yet firm grip. You hold her hand throughout the entire ride home, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze whenever you feel them tremble between yours.

That night, while you sleep soundly beside her, she finds herself unable to sleep. She spends the empty hours simply studying your peaceful face. There's a childlike innocence in the way your lips part slightly, a soft snore escaping occasionally. It's endearing, and it makes Wanda smile, even through her turmoil. She imagines traces of age on your face—the lines that will mark years of laughter, the silver that will streak through your hair. She tries to picture herself beside you, her own face carrying the weight of the years, both of you holding on to each other until the last breath. Her smile is teary as she hopes and hopes that this is where she's headed—to this future.

Because tomorrow, she will have to see Vision, and if everything goes well, she'll never have to see him again. Then she will finally express how she needs you to take her back to Manhattan or anywhere far from here, so she'll never have to relive this nightmare she’s created.

The next day comes like any regular day of the week. She kisses you goodbye as you head off to work, and she feeds Sparky to his heart's content before getting into a pinstripe blue blazer set. She fails to notice just how good she looks in this well-fitted ensemble, the fabric hugging her waist perfectly. Her focus is solely on feeling powerful, as she knows she'll need all the strength to finally put an end to things with Vision.

Wanda takes a deep breath, then another, and then two more, before she finally gathers enough courage to knock on the door. Vision answers almost immediately, as though he had been anticipating her knock down to the very second.

The man before her now looks wholly different from the one she had encountered just yesterday. His blue eyes are bright and clear, his face clean shaven. The scent of a cologne she doesn't recognize wafts to her. New, she thinks. It's heady and distinctly masculine, unsettling her slightly.

“Wanda,” he greets with a charming smile, one that reaches his eyes, but doesn’t quite touch the soul behind them. For a moment, she's transported to the countless afternoons she spent here, entangled with him with nothing—not even air—separating their sweating, writhing bodies. His lips quirk into a sly, familiar smile, as if he too remembers those days and expects this visit to be a similar occasion.

“Vision.” Gripping her shoulder bag tighter, almost using it as a shield, she quickly sidesteps him. “May I?” she asks, though it sounds more like a statement as she makes her way into his apartment.

He chuckles softly behind her, the sound dripping with memories she would rather forget. “Of course. After all, you've always felt at home here.”

Wanda's stride falters for a fraction of a second at his words, the implication threatening to pull her under. But she needed to keep her wits about her. If she wants this conversation to go her way.

“Let’s just get to the point, Vision,” she says curtly.

“I intend to,” he replies, closing the door behind them with an intentional finality. Wanda allows herself to glance around, seeking even a brief distraction from what's about to unfold. His apartment is in disarray, a stark contrast to his appearance. Her eyes are drawn to one particular piece amongst the chaos—the finished nude painting he had made of her. The realization catches in her throat. It appears he’s finished it.

Wanda shoots him an expectant look, urging him to speak first.

Vision clears his throat, attempting to sound casual but failing. “Wine? Or should we skip the formalities?”

Her eyes narrow, her patience waning. “We skip.”

“Alright.”

He sighs and drops onto the couch. “Look, I've said sorry over and over, but I’ll say it again. I'm sorry, Wanda. I'm sorry for being careless that night.” His voice lowers, “But I don't regret it.”

Wanda's eyes flash with disbelief. “You don't regret it?”

“No,” he murmurs. “What I regret is that it didn't result in... well, you know.”

The implication is clear, and Wanda feels bile rise in her throat. How could he say something so audacious?

She opens her mouth to retort but he continues, raising a hand as if to hold off her words, “I want to keep seeing you. I can’t stop. Because, believe it or not, I'm in love with you.”

Wanda feels as though the ground has been pulled from under her feet. Every instinct tells her to run, but she knows that this won’t have an ending if she does. Wanda swallows dryly and closes her eyes, trying to piece together a strategy, a way to get through him, a way to get out of this unscathed, a way to ensure he won’t tell anyone about this when she leaves.

“I-I believe you,” she starts. “I think I’ve always known, no—felt, that you l-love me.” Vision nods to her words, his lips curling into a hopeful smile.

“But I have to be honest with you, too,” she continues, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I took advantage of those feelings, Vision. I knew, deep down, that you felt this way and I still... I still let it happen. And for that, I'm deeply sorry.”

He stiffens at her words, a frown forming on his brow. “Wanda—”

She raises her hand, signaling for him to let her finish. “I don’t love you. It's Y/N. It's always been her. From the very start. What happened between us, it was a mistake, one that I haven't forgiven myself for. Especially because of what it means for Y/N.”

She takes a shaky breath, looking into his eyes earnestly, “You deserve someone who can return your feelings, who can love you wholeheartedly. You're a handsome, intelligent, passionate young man. There are many out there who would consider themselves lucky to be with you—”

But Vision vehemently shakes his head, unwilling to accept it, refusing to acknowledge their end. “I want to keep seeing you.”

“You can't,” Wanda insists, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. “It's over.”

Vision's eyes flash dangerously, the calm veneer shattering in an instant. He takes a step forward, trapping Wanda with a threatening look.

“You think you can just fuck me and then discard me like nothing?!” he hisses.

Wanda backs up, startled. She feels her control starting to slip away. “Of course not. I… you were my friend. I cared—I care about you. But I shouldn't have let it get this far.”

He scoffs, not a word of hers reaching his ears. “So, it's all a game to you? You get to decide when to play and when to stop?”

“No, it's not a game,” she replies, desperate for him to understand. “But I can't keep lying to myself or to you. I can't keep hurting Y/N or you.”

His gaze snaps back to hers, and there's a glint of something dark and foreboding in his eyes. “Maybe you should've considered the consequences of your actions, Wanda.”

She swallows hard, sensing the danger in his voice. “What are you saying?”

“Maybe Y/N should know the truth,” he surmises, his voice dripping with malice. “Maybe she should know exactly who she's been sharing her bed with.”

Wanda feels like she might faint anytime. Panic rises, threatening to choke her. “Vision, please,” she pleads, “you can't do that.”

His eyes remain steely. “Why not? She deserves to know, doesn't she?”

Wanda takes a shaky breath, grappling for words, trying to appeal to his sense of reason. “Yes, she does. But not like this. Not from you. If anyone should tell her, it's me.”

“But you'll never tell her,” Vision says, his voice laced with accusation. “I see it in your eyes, Wanda. You don't have the balls to be honest with her. Because you're afraid. You're afraid she'll walk away.”

Both are poised in this high-stakes game, each waiting, anticipating, guessing what card the other will play next. For a heartbeat, Wanda feels disarmed, Vision's threat too sharp and too real. But as the seconds tick by, something shifts in her. She straightens up, pulling herself to her full height, and when she speaks, there’s no fear or hesitation in her voice.

“You’re not going to tell her,” she declares.

“And what makes you so sure?”

“Because you know I'll hate you,” she says. “And if there's even the slightest chance that I'll change my mind, then doing that wouldn't be it.”

Vision lets out a humorless laugh, but the look in his eyes betrays his indifference. “You think there's a chance you'll change your mind?”

“No,” Wanda says firmly. “It's over.”

The defiant look that had been painted across Vision's face begins to crack. He looks smaller somehow, like he's shrinking back into himself. His shoulders slump, and the facade of control and confidence he'd donned earlier dissolves. The boy from yesterday, the one who seemed so heartbroken, returns in full force.

“Wanda,” his voice trembles, almost as if he's on the verge of tears. “Please, I’m all alone. I told you my life, I told you about my parents, nobody in this world cares about me! And I know I said I’m fine and I can survive without them, but why should I when I have you, Wanda—”

She can't help but pity him, his brokenness tugging at her heartstrings. But she knows that relenting now would mean drowning in the same cycle all over again.

“Vis, you will find someone. Someone who isn't me, someone better for you. Trust that.”

“How can I want someone else when I had you,” he insists with unwavering stubbornness, his eyes growing more frenzied, and Wanda shivers at the unsettling sight before her.

“Maybe you had me,” she says tearfully as she decides to finally drive a stake into his heart. “But not in every way like Y/N has me.”

Before she can register what's happening, Vision's hands are suddenly around her waist, pulling her forcefully against him. The initial shock and his assertiveness make her freeze for a split second. As he starts rubbing himself against her, she feels the unmistakable hardness growing between them.

“Vision, stop!” she protests, trying to wriggle free.

“Can you feel that?” he whispers hoarsely, clearly misinterpreting her struggle, mistaking it for their first time together and all the other times she eventually gave in to his advances. “That's how much I want you. Need you.”

Tears of frustration and fear spill from her eyes. “This isn't right, Vision. Let go,” she pleads, placing her hands against his chest and pushing with all her might.

“Wanda, just—maybe if we—you’ll see. You’ll see that you love me, just let me—”

Her fist connects with his cheek, causing him to stumble a few steps away. For a while, they both freeze in horror, the gravity of the situation sinking in. In his moment of delirium, Vision comprehends what he was about to do to the woman he claims to love, and guilt claws at his guts, wrenching his insides.

On the other end, Wanda's chest heaves with shock and distress. She stands there momentarily paralyzed, the aftershocks of the ordeal still rippling through her. Tears blur her vision, but she refuses to let them fall, not now, not when she needs all her strength. Her gaze meets Vision's only briefly before she pulls herself together. She wraps her arms around herself, and then rushes to the front door.

He yells, “No, Wanda! I…please let’s just—”

But his pleas fall on deaf ears.

Wanda goes straight home after the whole fiasco with Vision. She locks herself in the bedroom, crying for hours, paying no attention to Sparky's worried barks from outside the door. She tells herself that it could be worse, trying to talk herself out of going to the police. If she goes to the authorities, she'll have to give a statement. This would inevitably lead to an investigation into their past, revealing things she doesn't want you to know.

Drained from crying, Wanda's eyelids grow heavy. As sleep overtakes her, vivid dreams flood her mind, each presenting an alternate reality. In one dream she’s back in Vision’s apartment, his arms wrapped around her like a chain, and every time she tries to pull away, the chains grow tighter, pulling her back into his prison. A cold dread settles in her heart, as she struggles and fights, desperate to wrench herself free from his grasp.

The next scenario places her in a world without Vision. It's a life untouched by his influence, where she walks unfamiliar streets and meets faces that do not recognize her. Then, in a sudden shift, she's back at her office on that fateful evening, but the events unfurl differently. The temptation of Vision never materializes. She leaves, unburdened by the weight of a choice she didn't make.

But the relief is short-lived. These dreams meld into a harrowing nightmare, saturated in hues of red and black, where you discover her secret. She tries to call out, to explain, to mend, but her voice is swallowed by the deafening silence of the dreamscape.

In her seemingly endless silent screams, Wanda wakes up. The remnants of her haunting dreams still clutching at her, making her jolt upright. The fabric of the sheets sticks to her body, drenched in a cold sweat. Each breath comes in ragged gasps, as if she's been submerged underwater and has just broken the surface.

The bedside clock reads half past six and panic sets anew. You could be home in an hour, given that you haven't been extending your hours at the office lately. The realization pushes her into a frenzied urgency. Throwing off the sheets, Wanda rushes to the ensuite bathroom. The cold stream from the shower brings a semblance of clarity, washing away the residues of her nightmares.

Wrapped in a towel, with droplets still cascading down her skin, she dashes to the kitchen. She pulls out ingredients, her hands working methodically, albeit with a haste that speaks of her need to keep busy, to keep the demons of her subconscious at bay. She manages to prepare a simple but appetizing meal, but the mere thought of taking a bite threatens to turn her stomach inside out.

The dining table is set, and she seats herself, her gaze distant once again. And she stays there, lost in her own head.

It’s how you find her when you get home at 9:15 in the evening.

You’re quiet tonight. Alarmingly so.

She asks you how your day was, and you respond tersely with a simple, “Good.” She attempts to get you to elaborate, maybe share an anecdote like you usually do, but you dismiss her efforts, attributing your lack of interest in conversation to fatigue.

But Wanda can’t stand the silence. When it’s quiet, the voices in her head are even louder.

So she decides to tell you about her day instead. She swears to herself this is the last day she’ll ever lie to you with a straight face. She talks about the final projects her students have begun submitting. As she describes her favorites, your interest particularly sharpens when she mentions the portrait projects. You pepper her with questions, mostly about who made which, and Wanda offers names that probably wouldn't mean much to you.

After you finish eating, you thank her with a small smile. It's only then that Wanda feels she can breathe again. She leans in, pressing her lips to yours, her longing evident. However, just as she tries to deepen the kiss, you pull away, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Showered without me?” you tease, but it lacks the usual lilt in your voice. She simply nods in response. You playfully tap her nose, whispering, “Naughty girl.” Then, without another word, you're on your feet and heading up the stairs to the bedroom.

She proceeds to clear the table and wash the dishes, all while the sound of the shower fills her ears. She allows herself a small smile, chiding herself for being overly affected by her dream.

By the time she makes her way up to join you, she discovers you've already drifted off, turned away from the vacant space beside you that's meant for her.

She’s positively shaking as she takes the short walk from the parking lot to the classroom, the dread building up inside her like a swelling storm. The thought of facing her class, and especially Vision, sends shivers down her spine. The recent events—the horrifically inappropriate advances and Vision's glaring sense of entitlement—play over and over in her mind.

Her feet eventually take her to her destination, but she remains outside for a full minute. The thought of facing Vision again is almost enough to turn her around. But another, stronger, voice reminds her of her duty, her commitment to her other students, and her own integrity. Moreover, she doesn't want to be alone today, here the haunting events with Vision could replay in her mind without any distractions.

She pushes open the door. It appears to be a typical day, with her students clustered in small groups, engrossed in conversation and seemingly oblivious to her arrival. She swiftly surveys the room and, to her relief, doesn't spot the familiar blue eyes that usually fixate on her by this time.

When she starts her lecture on the final topic of the semester, it flows seamlessly. Still, the end of the course can't come soon enough; continuing here is untenable. She can’t keep teaching here, when these hallways keep reminding her of the mistake that almost cost her everything.

You've been leaving the side of your bed cold for almost two weeks now. Sometimes, your careful movements stir her awake, and she watches you, bleary-eyed, as you go through the motions of prepping for a run, a habit you've picked up quite recently. At first, Wanda would always ask where you’re headed and if she can accompany you. But you'd consistently dismiss her offer, always seeming in a rush to hit the pavement.

She thinks it’s good for you—the exercise. The only aspect of your new hobby that she dislikes is that you typically go before sunrise, where everywhere is still too dark and eerily quiet, and her imagination runs wild of all the worst things that could happen to you while you’re out on your run.

And Wanda wouldn’t admit it, but she can't help but internalize the consistent rejection of her offers to join you. She wonders if there's a deeper reason behind it. When you're out and she's left alone with her thoughts, Wanda can't help but let the guilt seep in. Has she become too transparent? Has something given her secret away? Did you find out about her affair? How would she even begin to explain?

But then you return after your run, with a sense of tranquility, as though the exercise had been a cathartic release of some pent-up tension. However, something still feels amiss. Perhaps it's because she hasn't slept with you since the night she discovered she wasn't pregnant with Vision's child, and all that has passed between you are brief, perfunctory kisses here and there. She wants to discuss it with you, but she doesn't want to appear too eager or guilty. Instead, she remains committed to being a good wife. And even though being a good wife was never about housework, Wanda ensures that every corner of the house sparkles and shines.

Meanwhile, you go about fulfilling your own household responsibilities seamlessly. From tending to minor repairs to ensuring that bills are paid on time, you continue with the routines that have always defined the dynamic of your relationship. There's no sign of resentment or dissatisfaction in your actions. It's almost as if everything is back to normal. This confounds Wanda even more. She starts to question her own memory, wondering if perhaps this distance, this new version of you, has always been present and she just never realized it. It's possible that you've become this way while she was preoccupied with her affair, and she didn't notice how you slowly adjusted to her unavailability.

Of course, she only has herself to blame. She's determined, however, to rectify it and make it up to you.

Which is when the idea strikes her. The dream vacation to Hawaii that both of you often fantasized about but never took due to financial constraints and a tight schedule. With the money from her teaching job, she now has the means to turn that dream into a reality. A surprise trip might be the perfect remedy to rekindle the connection that has worn out due to your busy lives and... her unfaithfulness.

She knows it doesn't atone for her sins, but it's a step in the right direction.

It should have been the perfect day for her surprises. She has two of them—the surprise trip and the news of her resignation from the university. She had just handed you the box with all the Hawaii trip details, and you were about to dive in, when there was a knock at the door.

Two men in dark suits have arrived at the house, looking for her. Detectives—Rogers and Barnes. Wanda uncovers the real reason behind Vision's absence from school, and it wasn't due to personal family matters or a decision to pursue education elsewhere.

He's been in an accident, and they suspect foul play.

Their questions start off simple, touching on the basics. But soon, they feel like piercing arrows as they delve into the phone calls between them, how close they were, and if she ever set foot in his apartment. Throughout the interrogation, Wanda manages to keep a straight face, though deep down she knows she probably can't fool detectives of their caliber. Yet, she silently prays that you don't see past her mask.

“That’s enough,” you interject firmly. “My wife has answered your questions. Unless there’s anything else directly related to your investigation, I believe we’ve covered everything.”

Your intervention when their questions grow more intrusive suggests she's managed to keep you in the dark. The realization that you're still on her side floods her with immense relief.

“Very well. Thank you both for your time,” Rogers says.

But Wanda isn’t done. She has her own questions. She needs to know if Vision's involvement with her is the reason they're here, probing. She wonders if he might have informed the authorities about their inappropriate relationship, and if that somehow relates to his current situation.

“Wait!” Wanda exclaims, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She contemplates asking her burning questions, but with you observing from the side, she suppresses her urge to do so. Instead, she conveys her worry—she is, after all, his teacher.

“Is he… is he okay?”

Wanda's complexion turns ashen upon catching the look on Barnes' face, instantly realizing he's fully aware of her and Vision's relationship. She can barely hear Roger's response, her blood rushing in her ears.

“…that he’s stable. However, he remains in a coma. It’s uncertain when or if he’ll wake up, but let's hold onto hope.”

Oh.

Her secret's safe—for now. But she... she has to be certain. She needs to tie up any loose ends, if there are any.

It's reckless to visit Vision's apartment in daylight, especially right after a visit from the police.

Exiting her car, Wanda's sandals softly scrape against the ground. She pauses to scan her surroundings, her gaze flitting from one building to another. The neighboring houses and apartment complexes stand silent, their stillness almost eerie, as if they've been forsaken. She knows that not many reside in this part of the town, a fact that had made Vision's apartment an ideal hideaway for their secret meetings.

She cautiously approaches Vision's unit, her hand shaking slightly as it reaches for the door knob: locked. A memory surges—Vision handing her a spare key during one of their early encounters. Retrieving it from her bag, she hesitantly fits it into the lock, preparing herself for what she might find beyond the door.

It opens with a muted creak, and a blanket of darkness envelops her. Hesitating at the threshold, she fumbles for a light switch, her fingers brushing against the cool wall before finding it. She'd half-expected Vision's belongings to be packed up, perhaps by a landlord who wanted to move on from the situation. But everything appears untouched, as if frozen in time; dust hasn't settled, and the items scattered about give no indication that the place has been vacant for weeks. It occurs to her that the ongoing investigation might be the reason the apartment remains untouched.

Wanda moves quickly, knowing she shouldn’t linger. Heading straight to the bathroom, she swiftly gathers her toothbrush and a few other personal items she had left behind. As she emerges, her gaze is drawn to the corner where Vision's easel stands. It used to hold a portrait of her, a work he'd wanted to submit for his final project, capturing her in a light she had never seen herself. But now, it’s empty.

A cold rush of panic seizes her. She clutches the edge of a table, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Had Vision decided to move the painting for some reason? Or worse, had the detectives seen it and taken it as evidence? The painting wasn’t just art; it was tangible evidence of their affair.

But then, in the midst of her mounting fear, a memory jolts her—there was another painting, the one Vision had purchased from the gallery where she used to work. With a newfound urgency, she hurries to his bedroom. The scene is disarrayed, with sheets and pillows strewn about. Ignoring the mess, Wanda goes directly to the cabinet where she remembered he last stored it. She yanks open the doors, and her eyes dart around, searching, but the painting is nowhere to be found.

Desperation grips her. If the detectives come across either painting, they'd have more reasons to scrutinize her further than she's comfortable with. Such involvement would be near-impossible to hide from you. Wanda proceeds with caution, scanning the apartment for any lingering items that could connect her to Vision. Unexpectedly, she finds a piece of her lingerie nestled within his sock drawer. Swiftly, she snatches it up. Before departing, she meticulously wipes away any fingerprints from the surfaces she's touched, then dashes to her car.

Once inside, she pauses to draw several deep, steadying breaths. It's overwhelming to think that this is now her reality, teetering on the brink of exposure.

She eventually finds herself falling off the edge when she discovers Natasha’s email on your laptop, mere moments after the crushing realization that you hadn’t bothered to open her gift.

Her instinct is to craft a lie. She searches her mind rapidly, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for the intimate handhold. Maybe she could say it was an old friend from the past, or perhaps a distressed student she was comforting. But one glance at the photo and she knows, deep down, that any excuse would fall flat. The way Vision looks at her, with such unmistakable affection and wonder, betrays any innocence she might claim. Trying to explain this to you or anyone else would be an exercise in futility.

Wanda had played out various scenarios in her mind about how you might discover the truth, but she never imagined it would be through seeking the expertise of your best friend. It was perhaps naive, but she had hoped you wouldn’t notice anything or, if you did, that you'd confront her about it.

But why would you come to her? She's been pushing you away for months, and the only time she truly showed you how much you mean to her was when she was so relieved that she wouldn't be carrying the consequences of her indiscretions in her womb.

In case you need them, the subject of the email says. Need them for what? Wanda wonders. From the way Natasha worded the message accompanying the photos, it doesn't appear you're just discovering the truth now.

No, it seems that you’ve known for a while. Which means—

The pieces fall into place, a chilling realization creeping over her. Wanda's breath catches as she pushes the laptop away, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. The way you had carried yourself, especially around the police—it was far too serene, too measured. When they mentioned Vision's name, you didn't so much as flinch or even show a flicker of surprise.

Her heart beats painfully against her ribs. The calm demeanor, the calculated way you’d been moving about—it wasn't out of ignorance. You knew. And for how long? The thought terrifies her. How many days or weeks has she been living this lie while you watched, silently knowing everything?

Your silence, amplifying her betrayal, eats away at her conscience. The quiet before the storm, she thinks. And she's right in the middle of it.

“Wanda?”

She’s hiding in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror, practicing a smile and a thousand more expressions even though she's barely holding it together.

“Wanda.”

She couldn't shake the thought of you knowing. Did you have any involvement in Vision's accident? You've never intentionally hurt even the smallest creature, let alone another human being, right?

“Wanda!”

She nearly leaps out of her skin as the bathroom door slams open, and you stare back at her, looking just as startled and taken aback.

“Hey,” she says, forcing a smile.

You narrow your eyes at her, and she shivers under your intense scrutiny.

“Are you okay? You’ve been in here for almost an hour.”

Wanda nods quickly. “I'm fine.”

You continue to watch her for a moment, before saying, “Alright.”

Just as you're about to step away, Wanda remembers the plans for later. “About the dinner tonight,” she starts hesitantly, “with your colleagues from the bank... should we cancel?”

She's desperately hoping you'd say yes. She can't bear not knowing what's going on in your mind. The way you act as if everything's normal is suffocating her. Does she even still know the real you? Every moment you're not cursing her out or confronting her betrayal feels like an eternity.

But you shake your head. “No, let's do it. We already promised them.”

Wanda's heart sinks a little, but she nods in understanding.

“I'll go grab some wine real quick,” you say before leaving the bathroom, leaving Wanda alone once again with her thoughts.

Later, as the last of the guests leave, she's certain you've picked up on her distress, noticing how you kept glancing at your watch and drifting out of conversations. She senses your gaze on her as she escorts Scott and his wife to the car, acutely aware you're observing her every move from the bedroom window.

Though they're older than both you and Wanda, they've only been hitched for two years. Wanda can't help but wonder if maybe things are smoother for them because they waited to get married. But then a familiar warmth washes over her. The memory of how deeply in love she was with you surfaces. Even if you had waited six years to propose, she’s sure that had you suggested it within the first few months of dating, she would've said yes in a heartbeat.

Truth be told, she doesn't regret it now, the timing of it, and everything in between.

All she's uncertain of is how tonight will unfold.

The house lies shrouded in an inky stillness, almost like it’s holding its breath. She carefully climbs the stairs to the bedroom you both share, one uncertain step at a time. The door is slightly open, and you're standing by the window, your silhouette thin and brittle.

“What happened, Y/N?” she asks as she stops a few feet from you. Your eyes are closed, and your body trembles. Though she should be consumed by fear, her only desire is for you to open your eyes, hoping to find the person she fell in love with over a decade ago still there.

“What did you do? Did you cause his ‘accident’?” she continues. But you remain silent, unmoving. “Y/N?”

Still, nothing. Wanda is slowly but surely losing her sanity.

“Did you hurt him? You did, didn’t you? Jesus, Y/N. Talk to me,” Wanda pleads, and then out of desperation she screams, “Tell me what you did!”

“No!” You roar with a primal intensity, reminiscent of a wounded animal in the wild, and the sheer force of it makes Wanda recoil. But she doesn't move away from you. Not at this crucial moment, when she senses how close she is to losing you. “You tell me what you did!”

You stalk towards her menacingly, until you're mere breaths away, and Wanda wants to reach out and touch you, but she knows she'll be burned.

“How you fucked him over and over and over! How you lied to me… over and over and over,” you tell her brokenly.

“Y/N, please–”

“Don’t. You don’t get to talk to me now,” you say, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. “You didn’t think I’d know? I wouldn’t feel it? I knew from the very first night. Because I know you, Wanda. Every thought. Every look. Every fiber of your being. I know you and I fucking hate you! I didn’t want to hurt him, I wanted to hurt you!”

The confirmation she's been dreading, along with the murderous glint in your eyes, saps the color from Wanda’s face. “Oh my god,” she chokes out, hand clamping over her mouth in horror. “Y/N…”

You try to walk away, but your legs give out, and you crumple to the ground, knees first, like a puppet with its strings cut. The tears flow freely now, unburdened by pride or anger. A raw, guttural sob escapes your lips, echoing the pain in your chest. Wanda, too, collapses, a mirror reflection of your despair, her body shaking as sobs rack her frame.

How could she have ever been afraid of you, especially knowing what you've been through? Beneath it all, she sees the woman she deeply loves, now appearing so fragile and torn apart, all because of her own mistakes. “I'm so sorry...” she whispers, her apology a mere drop in the ocean of hurt between you.

“Was there anyone else aside from him?” you ask suddenly, looking at the carpeted floor before you.

“No,” Wanda answers earnestly.

You offer a wry smile. “He must be really special then.”

She frantically shakes her head. He's not. No one is. It's always been—

“Do you love him?”

“No,” Wanda responds hastily, almost too hastily for your taste. And by the look on your face, she's crushed by the realization that no matter what she says next, your trust in her words may be irrevocably broken. “I thought I did, but no,” she admits. She can't bear the thought of deceiving you further and aims to leave no question unanswered.

“Did you…” you start, staring intently at the ceiling, and Wanda knows exactly what you’re asking even before it comes out of your mouth. The fact that you have to ask leaves her utterly heartbroken.

“...ever love me?”

This was her doing. The very second she acted on impulse and succumbed to temptation was when she truly lost you.

“I love you,” Wanda murmurs, her tear-filled eyes meeting yours, stubborn for her words to reach you. “I know how fucked up that sounds to you right now. But I do, I love you, Y/N.”

“You love me?” your voice falters, making you wince. “You have a truly unique way of showing it.”

How does she prove it? How can she make you believe? Wanda scrambles for tactics, for miracles, for a do-over.

“After all this,” you continue, “you might as well have killed me. Being dead might be painless compared to this.”

“Baby, please don't say that,” Wanda's voice breaks, choked by tears she can't hold back. She feels the urge to reach out, her fingers itching to touch you.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore. Even hearing you say my name makes me sick.” Your voice is steady, each word dripping with cold resentment.

“You can stay,” you say after a while. Wanda senses a fragile hint of hope blossoming within her. But it's quickly crushed when you add, “Stay in this house, for as long as you need. But I'm leaving.”

And it’s here where the panic sets in. The realization that she's on the brink of losing you entirely, not just emotionally but physically as well, hits Wanda like a freight train. The walls of the room seem to close in on her, and the weight of her decisions and mistakes press heavily on her shoulders, making her feel as if she's sinking.

“No,” she whispers. “Please, don't go.”

You start to slide your wedding ring off, and that’s when Wanda loses it. She launches herself at you, capturing your lips into a heated kiss. In the split-second it takes for the golden loop to slip off your finger, a flood of memories rushes over Wanda—the scent of rain as it patters on the roof of the reception, the song playing in the background as you and Wanda sway to your first dance as a married couple, the warmth of your hand intertwined with hers. Those fragments play in a demented, rapid slideshow, and time stretches and contracts, maddeningly so.

For Wanda, it feels like someone's drilled a hole in the base of her skull, letting all the sorrow rush in like a merciless flood. Everything else is white noise. For that brief instant when her lips slot against yours, you don’t push her away. Wanda pours everything she has into this kiss, hoping you'll feel her truth in it. But then, before she even has the chance to deepen it, you’re pulling away and it’s—

It’s over.

Stubborn as always, Wanda tries to hide in your neck, and you feel her tears sliding down your throat. She clings to you with all her might, holding on for as long as she can. But when she feels you gently place your wedding ring into her palm, her face crumples with a pain so profound, she knows she may never recover from it. And then you begin to rise, lifting yourself from the floor. As she instinctively clings to your leg, you take another step, causing Wanda to stumble forward from the sudden loss of support.

“This can't be the end. It just can't,” Wanda murmurs to herself like a mantra, as if repeating it will change the course of reality. She's almost certain you hear her, but it doesn't change your stride; you just keep walking away.

The ring burns in her palm, a searing reminder that her promise of loving and cherishing you always means nothing to you now.

Wanda can't quite figure out how, but you've chosen to remain in the guest bedroom for the evening. She'd heard the engine of your car roar to life, but then it fell silent after just a few moments. Peering out, she’d seen you stepping out of the car, phone pressed to your ear.

Who had you been talking to? An intense curiosity had consumed Wanda, making her wonder who had been on the other end of that call. In the short window they'd been estranged—no, just temporarily separated, because Wanda refused to believe that you'd entirely lost your affection for her—could there have been someone else? Someone waiting in line for their turn?

Now, she stands hesitantly in front of the guest bedroom door, hands clenched in her sides, torn between giving you space and continuing to fight for her marriage. She's torn, but not clueless. It's not just about barging in or holding back; it's about the aftermath. She stands there, frozen, trying to figure out which move won't blow everything to smithereens. Because the time she has with you is running out and there might not be a tomorrow.

Or a you and her. Ever again.

Wanda finally sinks to the floor, her back flush against the cold, indifferent wood of the door. Sparky, pads over, his little claws making almost no sound against the floor. He nestles himself on her lap, making his bed there for the night. She wraps her fingers around his soft fur, his warmth seeping into her, but his presence is a double-edged sword. As much as she adores him, he's going to be the only thing of you she gets to keep, and it's going to be a painful reminder from here on out.

In an act of despair, she presses an ear flat against the door, searching for the tiniest murmur, the faintest shuffle. Anything to tell her what's happening on the other side of this barrier. A barrier that was never there before. She's on the outside, and the thought that you're moving on, building a life sans her, is terrifying.

It's a cruel irony, she realizes. Here she is, just a few inches from you, yet completely and utterly in the dark. And so, she sits, hoping against hope, that at some point during the night, she'd hear the door creak open, and you’d scoop her in your arms and take her back.

She waits, because that's what love does—it waits, even in the darkest of times.

The next morning, Wanda wakes up, surprised to find herself in a bed instead of on the hard, cold floor. She doesn't recall making the trip, but the idea that you cared enough to ensure she slept on something warm and comfortable almost makes her heart leap out of her chest.

However, her happiness is short-lived as she opens the closet and discovers that some of your things are missing. To a stranger, the differences wouldn't be obvious, but she knows which shirt and trousers you chose, and she understands the implication. It means you won't be returning tonight, and perhaps not tomorrow either. When she goes to the bathroom, she finds only one toothbrush, and that's enough to make tears well up in her swollen eyes once more.

“Thanks for picking up,” Wanda says, her fingers gripping the phone tight, holding onto it like she’s drowning and it’s her only lifeline.

“Well, you've called enough times. Figured I'd give you a break,” Natasha's voice, though distant, is biting, as frigid as the coldness that Wanda has been feeling in her bones these past days.

“I need to know where she is. Please.”

A sigh on the other end, followed by a chilling silence. “You think after everything, you still have the right to know her whereabouts?”

“She's still my wife,” Wanda counters, but it’s weak.

“She was your wife,” Natasha fires back, unrelenting. “The last I checked, people who love their partners don't sleep with college kids.”

The words hit Wanda harder than any physical blow could. She's taken aback, gasping for air as if she's been sucker-punched.

“I—”

“She loved you,” Natasha continues ruthlessly, “more than you ever deserved. And you threw it away, for what? Some fleeting thrill?”

Loved? Past tense? Had Natasha just assumed—

Or was that word coming directly from you?

Pushing down the slightest twinge of sympathy that threatens to surface, Natasha picks up on Wanda's faint, broken breaths on the other end. She can tell Wanda's on the verge, and it's familiar, too familiar. It's almost exactly the sound she caught when she was on the phone with you the other night.

“I never meant for this to happen,” Wanda barely manages to say.

“Well, it did,” Natasha snaps, her voice cold. “Intentions don’t change actions. And actions have consequences.”

Wanda’s voice comes off a little strong this time, thick with conviction. “Maybe I deserve this, Natasha. Maybe it’s my time to pay for all the wrongs I’ve done.”

“You think?” Natasha scoffs.

“But you... you’ll never get it. You’ll never understand why I can’t just let go, why I can’t give up on her,” Wanda says.

“And why’s that?”

Wanda's voice trembles with the knowledge that what she's about to say is a cheap blow. “Because you've never been married. You've never committed yourself to someone in the way I have with her.”

That stings, and Natasha can feel her own anger rising.

“Don’t think for a second that just because I’m not married, I don’t understand commitment, pain, or betrayal,” she says, voice low and measured.

Wanda swallows hard. “I didn't mean to—”

“Of course you didn't. But here we are, yet again,” Natasha cuts her off. She sighs, leaning back in her chair, “I’m not telling you where she is. She needs time, Wanda. Time away from you. If she wants to talk, she’ll find you.”

That's the last thing Wanda wants. She worries that distance will solidify your resolve, turning her from an immediate regret to a distant afterthought.

“I need to see her, Natasha,” Wanda pleads, “Just tell me where she is.”

“Why? So you can make things even worse?”

After a tense pause, Wanda plays her last card, “Remember that night after we all went out? The night you and Bruce...” she trails off, not needing to complete the sentence.

Natasha stiffens, instantly knowing where this is headed. “Don’t you dare, Wanda.”

Wanda forges on, “I never told anyone, never used it against you. I kept your secret. You owe me, Natasha.”

The feeling of Bruce's hand against her cheek, the humiliation, the denial—all of it comes rushing back. She never thought Wanda would throw that night back in her face.

“You're really going there?” Natasha laughs hollowly.

“I’m desperate, Natasha. I love her. I can’t lose her,” Wanda’s voice breaks.

The line goes quiet, stretching seconds into what seems like hours. Finally, Natasha exhales heavily, the weight of the decision clear in her tone. “I'll give you an address. Show up, try to talk to her, but if she asks you to leave, you respect her wishes. Understand?”

Wanda swallows dryly. She knows Natasha can enforce her terms if she wants, which means she has no other choice but to comply. “Understood.”

Natasha's parting words would later linger in her mind for hours.

“This doesn't mean I've forgiven you or that she ever will. But you get your shot. Make it count.”

Wanda’s been standing outside the diner for what feels like a long time. She hopes her outfit—a parka over a crisp white v-neck and high-waisted jeans—makes a good impression. A glance in the reflection of the diner’s window confirms her red hair looks glossy and radiant, cascading in waves down her back.

Time and time again, Wanda had turned over every conceivable strategy to win you back. But in the end, they all hinged on the one thing she feared most: agreeing to a divorce. The very thought threatened to break her from the inside, but her desperation to make things right, to show you that she's changed, made this painful decision a necessary one. Wanda had taken so much from you, taken everything you had to offer and discarded it carelessly. Now, it was her turn to give something back, even if it meant letting you go, legally.

She tells herself, repeatedly, that their love story isn't defined by a marriage certificate. They won't end just because their marriage does. She had to believe this; it was the only way she could find the strength to move forward.

Steeling herself, Wanda takes one step forward. Another. Until finally, she’s there.

“Hey,” Wanda greets, doing her best to sound casual as she slides into the booth opposite you.

You give a nonchalant nod, mouth full of your Reuben sandwich. “Hi, Wanda.”

The scent of your cologne is the first thing that hits her, and it’s... different. This one's sharper, crisper, with a hint of citrus, perhaps. It's as if you're purposely shedding parts of yourself that she's grown accustomed to, distancing yourself in the most elemental ways. There's a new watch on your wrist, sleeker than the one she gifted you on your last anniversary. Even the way you hold yourself seems altered, shoulders squared and posture more rigid. Every detail screams of a transformation, a conscious effort to morph into someone she wouldn't recognize.

But why? To hurt her? To move on? To forget? All of the above? It's been just a week, yet the differences are already evident. Wanda dreads to think how much more will change if she goes months without seeing you.

This isn’t going to be easy, and that’s putting it mildly. “Sorry for cornering you like this. You rarely return my calls and it’s been almost impossible to match our schedules,” Wanda admits.

You concentrate on chewing your food, trying to appear perfectly disinterested in what she’s saying. As you take another bite of your sandwich, Wanda studies her intently, looking for any fleeting sign of emotion, but there’s nothing there but a chilling detachment.

“Natasha told me you’re already talking to divorce lawyers,” she continues. She's woken up next to you for more than a decade; she’s not easily deterred by the display of indifference. “If you’re decided that it’s what you really want, then I’ll give it to you. I’ll cooperate.”

“Okay.”

Wanda notices the fleeting moment your eyes dart to her left ring finger before you quickly look away.

“I, uh, got something for you,” she says.

“No, thanks.”

Wanda��s heart sinks as you dismiss her before even knowing what it is. Determined, she pulls out the small ring box and places it on the table, feeling a pang in her chest. “But it belongs to you,” she murmurs.

“What’s this?”

“It’s your wedding ring,” she says, pointing out what you already know. Your expression darkens, frustrated that she misses the underlying meaning of your question—not about the ring itself, but rather its significance right now.

For a split second, Wanda harbored a fragile hope that seeing the ring might stir something within you.

But then you're shaking your head, beginning to say, “I don’t want—”

“I understand,” she says, her shoulders sagging as she leans back into the booth. “But I'm returning it to you, and I’m keeping mine. What you decide to do with it is up to you. However, holding onto it on your behalf isn't something I can do.”

The ring she slipped onto your finger five years ago held all her promises, all her devotion to you. So it hurt that you no longer accepted that, no longer recognized it as yours. And she didn't want to be the guardian of that pain anymore.

“Fine,” you say, reaching for the tiny box and Wanda releases a heavy sigh of relief.

“So, you've got your ring back, and I'll sign the divorce papers once they're drawn up,” she says, mustering all her courage for what she's going to say next. “And then, I'll come for you.”

She watches in surprise as you nearly spit out your coffee, a few droplets escaping past your lips. As you hurriedly reach for a napkin, Wanda can't help but offer a gentle smile, always finding your occasional clumsiness endearing even in the middle of breaking her heart.

Your wide-eyed stare meets hers, speechless.

Her smile fades slightly, replaced by a melancholic self-awareness. “I didn’t want to believe you when you told me that night that you hated me. But I guess that’s better than indifference.”

“I don't hate you, Wanda,” you say. She can tell you're telling the truth, and she smiles a little at that.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” she laments. “Thank you.”

She takes a deep breath, knowing she needs to be clear, to lay everything on the table. “I’m not going to give up on you, Y/N. On us. What we have, and I’ve thought a lot about it, is something I’ll never find in another.”

“I’m not telling you this to get a reaction out of you,” she continues, “I know you’re not exactly thrilled at the idea of me pursuing you, but,” she falters, the first sign of her vulnerability. “This time, I want you to know everything. I don’t want you to be blindsided by my intentions, so I’m giving you a heads-up.”

“Wands,” you say, the nickname slipping effortlessly from your lips, and she has to fight the instinctual urge to reach for your hand across the table. “You can’t torture yourself like this.”

“I’m not,” she assures you. “I just refuse to give up on my dream.” She senses the skepticism in your eyes, and she can't blame you, not after everything that happened in the recent weeks. You’re my dream, Wanda had confidently and lovingly written in her vows. The memory of that day, with the weight of those words, is as vivid in your mind as it is in hers.

She's always been the type to hold onto what she loves, never letting go without a fight. But seeing the dark circles under your eyes, the sunken weight of your cheeks, she knows the very sight of her is taking a toll on you. And so, she’s leaving, for your sake.

“I'll see you soon,” Wanda says, getting up to leave. She hesitates for a moment, considering whether to go for your cheek, if you'll allow her. However, the lack of response from you pushes her to take small, shaky steps toward the door and out of the restaurant.

It isn’t over. Wanda’s made up her mind: she won't give up on you. Maybe she's the villain in this story; and hell, there's probably someone out there, all primed and polished, perfectly poised to love you without the scars and rough edges. Except, she doesn’t care, even if she knows she’ll be diving headfirst into the storm.

She swears that someday she'll be on her knees, asking you to marry her again.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x vision #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #my writing #category: angst #iss #my fic #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #natasha romanoff #vision

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aleskie-hischier · 23 days ago

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FALLING FOR YOU (ft. Charles Leclerc)

SUMMARY: You and Charles go ice skating. He doesn't know how to ice skate. Shenanigans ensues.

The Xmas Album Masterlist

Warnings: none! it's like 98% fluff but it gets a lil suggestive like right at the veryy end

You gaze out the window, watching snow-draped trees blur past, the serene white landscape contrasting with the warmth of his hand giving yours a gentle squeeze now and then. Charles liked whisking you away on little trips throughout the year, but he especially loved doing so during the holidays, when the off-season finally let him slow down and bask in your company.

While the season was in full swing, he’d take you to sun-soaked beaches and coastal getaways in the middle of packed race weekends. But come winter, his heart belonged to the snowy mountains, where the two of you could retreat to a cozy little cabin, far from the world.

“It’ll be a couples’ trip before the madness starts,” he’d explained when he first floated the idea of sneaking away as the season ended. With the chaos of family dinners, festive parties, and endless reunions on the horizon, this getaway felt like a perfect little pocket of peace—just for the two of you.

The first few days were spent entirely wrapped up in each other—fingers intertwined, skin pressed against skin, lips meeting in unhurried kisses. New marks bloomed on necks and collarbones and hips, small traces of intimacy shared beneath the warmth of the covers as the cold world outside faded into nothingness. It was a blissful blanket, the kind you could only share when his mind wasn’t preoccupied with racing or how the team was doing. Time seemed to stretch in those quiet moments, letting you focus on nothing but each other.

Today, though, Charles had insisted—albeit with his signature charm—that you get out of bed for a surprise adventure. “Trust me,” he’d said with a mischievous grin as he helped you bundle up for the cold.

When the car finally pulls to a stop, he’s quick to hop out and open your door, excitement practically radiating off him. Before you can take in your surroundings, he’s already covering your eyes with his hands, laughing softly as he guides you forward.

The crisp winter air nips at your cheeks, growing sharper as you near the mystery destination. The muffled crunch of boots on snow accompanies the sound of children’s laughter, mingled with the cheerful hum of life bustling around you.

When Charles finally uncovers your eyes, your breath catches.

A frozen lake stretches out before you, its smooth surface glinting in the soft afternoon light. Families and couples glide across it, their skates carving graceful lines into the ice. Nearby, a small booth rents skates and a scattering of string lights twinkles faintly against the snowy backdrop. The scene feels like it’s been plucked straight from a holiday movie—a sea of white stretching endlessly, snowflakes drifting lazily through the air, and the joyful energy of the people around you.

“Ta-da!” Charles says, his voice brimming with pride as he grins down at you, “What do you think?”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, leading you closer to the lake. The chill deepens as you step further onto the snowy bank, but the magic of the scene keeps it at bay. Your heart feels impossibly full as you take it all in.

“Oh, Charlie,” you whisper, your voice soft and awestruck, “It’s perfect.”

“Well, come on then,” Charles says, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he leads you toward the skate rentals. “Let’s skate!”

You can’t help but smile, the grin stretching wide across your face as he eagerly handles everything—selecting skates for both of you and chatting animatedly with the attendant. The smile doesn’t fade even as you both sit on a nearby bench, lacing up your skates. You lean against each other for balance, your laughter mingling with the soft hum of activity around you. The cold bites at your fingers as you tug on the laces, but his easy warmth keeps the moment light.

Once ready, the two of you waddle toward the lake’s edge, unsteady on the frozen ground but too excited to care. As you’re about to step onto the ice, Charles suddenly catches your wrist, halting your progress. His expression is mischievous, the corners of his mouth curling up in that playful way you’ve come to adore.

“You’ve skated before, right?” he asks, tilting his head as though this question is long overdue.

You shrug, a teasing glint in your eyes. “I mean, yeah, but I’m not amazing at it.”

He narrows his eyes, studying you for a moment. “But you can balance?”

Instead of answering immediately, you step onto the ice and give a small glide, the motion smooth but cautious. “Yeah,” you reply over your shoulder, confidence lacing your tone.

“Good.” His grin widens as he steps gingerly onto the ice beside you, legs wobbling and torso swaying from side to side before placing his hands firmly on your shoulders. "Because I can't."

“Ah!” you exclaim, stumbling slightly as Charles leans his full weight against you. Your skates wobble precariously on the ice, but you manage to catch yourself, your hands instinctively gripping his arms for stability.

“Charlie,” you laugh breathlessly, your voice tinged with both amusement and panic, “One of us has to let go, or we’re both gonna fall!”

“I don’t know, mon ange, I’ve already fallen quite badly for you,” he quips, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. His legs may have been fighting for balance, wobbling dangerously, but his charm remained completely unshaken.

You chuckle, shaking your head as you try to steady yourself. “I’m serious, babe. I’m barely hanging on here!”

Instead of letting go, Charles takes an awkward, jerky step forward, his upper body practically collapsing against yours.

“If we don’t move, we can stay standing,” he says with the confidence of someone who’s utterly failing at proving his point. His arms wrap tightly around you, a precarious attempt at keeping both of you upright.

You roll your eyes playfully, threading a hand through his tousled hair. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Leaning in, you press a soft kiss to his cheek before gently unraveling yourself from his hold, taking one of his hands in yours. His grip tightens, but there’s trust in his gaze as he looks at you.

“Do you trust me?” you ask, your tone light but reassuring.

“Always,” he replies without hesitation.

“Good.” A smile spreads across your face as you glide backward, the motion so gentle it’s barely more than a whisper of movement. “Let’s take this slow, Mr. I-Drive-Fast-Cars-For-A-Living. This might actually be harder for you than your usual laps.”

His laughter rings out, rich and warm despite his shaky stance. “What do you mean might? It already is.”

The two of you glide slowly across the edge of the ice, your hands firmly clasped together. His feet shuffle awkwardly, and his brows are knit in deep concentration as he wobbles with every step. You can’t help but stifle a laugh whenever he flails wildly to keep his balance. Of course, with his hands still gripping yours, his clumsy movements throw you off balance too—but you find it too funny to care.

“You’re doing wonderful, love,” you say, your smile stretching wide.

“It’s not too bad,” he replies, his steps still clunky but growing bolder, “I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

“Don’t get cocky,” you warn teasingly, keeping the pace slow and steady as you gently pull him along.

But Charles, ever the adrenaline junkie, has no intention of playing it safe. “Oh, come on, mon ange,” he says, his grin turning mischievous, “This is a racetrack now.”

Before you can protest, he loosens his grip on your hand and pushes off against the ice with exaggerated effort, sending you gliding slightly ahead of him. Determined, he attempts to pick up speed, his legs awkwardly working against the slick surface.

“Charlie, be careful!” you exclaim, glancing back at him with growing concern. He’s teetering dangerously from side to side, his arms flailing in a desperate bid to stay upright.

“I’ve got this!” he calls out, his voice filled with far more hope than certainty, “It’s nothing too crazy!”

But fate—and the ice—have other plans. In a split second, his skate catches awkwardly, and he stumbles forward, completely losing control.

“Charles!” you squeal, trying to sidestep as he inches toward you like an unstoppable force. But it’s too late. With an almost comical lack of grace, his full weight barrels into you, and the two of you crash onto the ice in a tangled heap.

“Oh, dear, are you alright?” Charles asks when you're both fallen over, his voice laced with concern as he cups your cheeks, tilting your head gently to check for any injuries.

“I’m fine,” you reply between bursts of laughter, your breath fogging the cold air, “I can’t believe you wiped us both out!”

He groans, his face just inches from yours, his expression a mix of sheepishness and suppressed laughter. “It was a very calculated risk, you know.”

“Really?” you ask, raising an incredulous brow, “And what exactly did your calculations say?”

“That you’d make a wonderful crash pad,” he replies, his smirk breaking free, his tone dripping with playful mischief.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, still chuckling as you lean into him, resting your forehead against his shoulder. The two of you sit there for a moment, sprawled near the edge of the lake, just shy of solid land, the world around you bustling with joyful sounds of skaters and falling snow.

“Alright,” you finally say, brushing snow off your jacket as you prepare to get up. “Let’s try this again, yeah?”

He nods excitedly.

You rise carefully, holding out a hand to Charles. He grabs it, his grip firm as he starts to pull himself up. But before he can fully stand, his skates betray him, and with a comical yelp, he slips again, landing back on the ice with a soft thud.

“Have I ever told you how much I love watching you learn new things?” you tease, your laughter bubbling over. “You’re so cute.”

“Well,” he smirks, brushing snow off his jacket, “You think I’m cute, so I win.”

As you reach for him again, a young voice pipes up beside you.

“Hi, sir!”

You both glance over to see a little boy skating confidently toward you, his skates cutting small arcs on the ice. His cheeks are pink from the cold, and a toothy grin spreads across his face.

“Since you’re struggling, you can always grab onto a Penguin Helper! They’re over there, and they help you skate and balance!” He points toward a line of small, penguin-shaped skating aids near the rental booth.

Charles blinks, momentarily stunned, before letting out a hearty laugh that echoes across the ice. “Ah, a Penguin Helper? Now that sounds like a genius idea.”

“Yeah!” the boy replies, nodding enthusiastically, “I used one when I was learning, and now I’m super good!” He punctuates his words with a quick, confident spin that leaves Charles gaping in exaggerated awe.

“You’re certainly very good,” Charles says, glancing at you with a grin, “How can I argue with a pro? I suppose a penguin might be my only hope.”

You giggle, watching as the boy skates off with the effortless confidence of someone far more practiced than Charles.

“Come on, Charlie,” you tease, offering him your hand again. “Let’s get you your new best friend.”

“Only if you promise not to abandon me for a faster skater,” he quips, taking your hand as you help him up once more.

“I promise you’re the only one I want—bad skating and all,” you say with a warm smile.

Hand in hand, you shuffle back toward the rental booth to grab him a penguin. Despite the slightly bruised ego, his laughter—and charm—remain completely intact.

“Ah, yes,” he says dramatically, gripping the handles of the cheerful plastic penguin, “My noble steed has arrived.”

“A fitting ride for the honorable Lord Perceval,” you tease, laughing as you quickly pull out your phone to snap a few photos. Watching him slowly glide across the ice, his newfound confidence was as endearing as it was amusing. “You look like a natural.”

“Do I?” he asks, flashing you a playful smile. “In that case, shall we race? I’m sure my trusty companion here will give me the edge I need.” He pats the penguin affectionately.

You skate beside him effortlessly, your movements smooth compared to his exaggerated shuffle. “I’d still like to have my boyfriend in one piece by the end of this, thank you very much.”

“Oh, but your boyfriend’s pride is already shattered,” he responds, tilting his head toward you with exaggerated seriousness, “What are you going to do about that?”

You smirk, leaning just close enough to him to make him wonder what you’re thinking. “Well,” you begin, your voice dripping with playful intrigue, “He’ll have to wait until we’re back at the cabin to find out, won’t he?”

His eyes narrow, and a mischievous grin spreads across his face, the twinkle in his eyes growing sharper. “Oh? Will there be a special gift waiting for me there?” His tone drops an octave, the teasing lilt turning into something more revealing. “Perhaps something that involves...less layers?"

You gasp in mock offense, placing a hand dramatically over your chest as if you’ve been scandalized. “I don’t know what’s in that mind of yours,” you say, fighting back a smile, “But I was just planning on having us take a nice, relaxing nap.”

He quirks an eyebrow, stepping closer with a playful glint in his eye. “But what if I asked for this gift nicely?”

You raise a brow, intrigued, yet still holding onto the upper hand. “Ask nicely…how?”

His smile widens as he leans in, lowering his voice in that teasing tone you know so well. “I’ll make you hot chocolate. Just the way you like it. Thick. More chocolate than milk. Extra marshmallows. No skimping.”

Your eyes widen for a moment before you let out a chuckle, shaking your head, your heart softening at his effort to win you over. “Alright, alright. You’ve convinced me.” You smile sweetly, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I guess you can have your special gift after all.”

He grins, his posture slightly off-balance as he leans in—still holding onto that plastic penguin like it’s his lifeline—and plants a soft, warm kiss on your forehead. “You know just how to make a man’s bruised ego feel better,” he chuckles, his voice full of warmth.

“I know, right?” you smile, the promise of warmth, both literal and figurative, and more playful moments together at the cabin feels like the perfect ending to the day.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc #cl16 #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 x reader #✩ allie's writing ✩

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p3ndeja6 · 5 months ago

Text

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

stray kids x reader

bangchan! and hyunjin! edition (separate)

Content Tags: smut! cheating! toxicity! piv! riding! slight mommy usage! dom bangchan! sub hyunjin! creampie! squirting! jealous reader and jealous chan and jin! non established relationship! fwb type shit!

word count: 2.5k

NOT PROOF-READ (just lazy)

a/n: this is probably ooc since im not educated on skz fandom so please don't execute me for any inaccuracy. Also creating this bc we saw them at lollapalooza and started brainstorming after leaving the festival LMAO (they were all so fine)

Inspired by: (my favorite) song B.A.S by Megan Thee Stallion..

☆ dedicated to my best friend @lilmeowneow ☆

Bangchan

Ever since you’ve been sleeping around with chan and found out that you werent the only one who also has been fucking him; you wanted to be sad about it but you knew better… way better. So if he can sleep around with other girls, you can too and sleep with the other guys in your DMs. They were all great really, made sure to let them who really was in charge, but deep down you loved the way chan fucked you senseless everytime. He was the only one you would obey to when he told you to turn around and take it. The way he would make you feel, it was like no other guy has made you feel before, the way he would be gripping your thighs as he pounded into you tight, wet, cunt.

But you had to keep the charade going.

One night you were in your apartment waiting for a guy that slide into your DMs for a quick fuck, he was cute and tall, might as well. You were getting ready and preparing the drinks into your room when you got a phone call, you looked at the caller ID and it was no other than chan, you chuckled debating to answer. But the guy was about to arrive soon. Fuck it

“Hello?” “ hey girl” “hi chan what brings this phone call?” “well nothing really wanted to know how you were doing and was wondering if you were free tonight?” you smiled, you knew what that meant, but you had to stay strong. “Ooh yeahh, no i'm actually busy at the moment-”

At the exact time the doorbell rang, “what do you mean?” you walked towards the door and opened it to see him holding flowers, you smiled and let him in. “thank you so much for the flowers r/n!” you said into the phone to make sure you heard.

On the other line he grew suspicious and was taken aback to have heard a male on the other side of the line. “Y/n? Do you have company over? Hello??” Y/n?” “If you want, just start heading towards my room and we can get started.” You saw him walk into your room and as he walked in you turned around and resumed the phone call.

“ so yeah chan i can really hang tonight im a bit busy” you slyly said. “Who are you with right now?” “nun” “nun who?” “nunya” you heard him groan on the other side of the phone. “Okay bye chan!” “no wait y/n-” you ended the call and blocked him.

“She fucking blocked me..”

Days have passed and you were lying around your apartment watching tv, just letting time pass by and watching the sunset go down. Looking at the beautiful ombre of red and orange colors filling your living room. Then you heard the doorbell ring. It caught you by surprise because you weren't expecting anyone today. You get up and peek through the peephole and see no other than chan waiting for the door to open. You giggle and open the door, he looks up and scans you up and down,salivating at the way you look in your “i don't care” outfit. Booty shorts and a big t-shirt that was cut from the top that slips down your shoulders.

“What a surprise to see you around here” you told him. “Yeah well i was just passing by and wanted to come and see you” “oh yeah? You wanted to see me?” “yeah of course” you let him in, not breaking eye contact with him. You eyed him up and down, wearing his black jeans and his leather jacket, seeing he was wearing his white wife beater. Feeling the wetness pool in your cunt. You look away to close and lock the door and once you turned back you felt a full body pressure on your lips, pushing you up against the wall. Kissing you harshly, gripping on your ass, “jump” chan says in between your lips.

He kisses you so passionately and roughly, he goes down your neck and sucks on your sensitive skin, he stops and looks at you for a second. “ I see he left his mark on you” you gave him a blank stare, “so?” still holding you, with his hands underneath your ass. “Can't believe you had another guy over” “oh yeah? Well i know you be fucking other bitches when you aint with me” he looks at you surprised that you knew that. You laughed in his face, “well I was just saying!, i dont give a fuck who you have over, but you have no need to lie to me, might as well tell me” “seems like you” “no i dont, he’s definitely not hotter than me so i could care less”

you rolled your eyes and grabbed his face and continued to kiss him, falling back down to the ground, you led him into your room and pushed him on the bed. He looked at you in lust, just waiting to be able to tear your tight pussy up. You take your shirt off, revealing that you weren't wearing a bra underneath. “Fuck baby” you push off his jacket as well and his beater. You were getting desperate, you needed him. It's been weeks since you had chan in you, the other guys couldn't compare to what chan made you feel. You took your shorts and your panties off and helped him get his off as well.

You pushed him down the bed, ready to center you cunt on his big, thick, cock. “Ughh just sit on it already” chan said as he pulled you down. You let out a loud whiny moan as you were stretched open. You wasted no time in bouncing on him, you grabbed onto his strong shoulders and bounced. You and chan were a moaning mess, your tits bouncing at the rhythm of his pace. You looked at him, smiling with your lustful eyes, he looked up and smiled at you and chuckled. “What's so funny?” you asked and at that moment he flipped both of you over and now he was on top.

He caught you by surprise, but you werent gonna deny his dominance. You could let him dominate you whenever and wherever he pleased. He grabbed onto your leg and threw it over his shoulder and leaned in. making him go deeper into you. “Fuck.. just like that daddy, m’need you so bad” “atta girl.. You.. take .. me .. s’so good”

he grunted going feral at the nickname you just called him. “Y-yeah? Daddy? When it comes from you it sounds better ""oh? Others called you daddy too?” you panted out and rolled your eyes. You tried to be mad but the way he was having his way with your sensitive wet cunt, you couldn't bear to start an argument. Hearing the pornographic noises of both your slicks being pumped in and out of you, and the sound of his balls hitting onto your ass. He leaned forward pushing your leg so far up, hitting you in that one spot that did it for you.

You soon start to feel that tightening feeling in the pit of your stomach starting to fuel up. You were about to cum. “F-fuck chan, im gon’ cum” he grunted and deeply moaned “s-shit hold on baby, just hold it, i’ll tell you when” chan kept pounding into you so relentlessly. Gripping onto your thighs so tight, leaving bruises on them, you couldn't hold it in anymore, the pressure building up was getting too strong, too strong for you.

“please! c-chan i can't-""one..more..second” tears started to form as you were fighting the urge from coming, you crossed your other leg behind his ass, pushing him slightly closer to you as if he wasn't close enough. “Y’yeah baby, you are such a good girl for me, no other guy can.. Fuck you like this.. You’re mine.. Only mine” you were looking away trying your hardest to keep in your orgasm that was so desperate to come out. Chan noticed and grabbed your face to make you look at him. “Hey look at me when im talking to you, no one..can fuck you this good like me, do you hear me?” “ y-yes! Yes daddy! You make me feel so good.. Only you!” “good..now cum for me pretty girl” the second he gave permission, you let out your loudest orgasm yet. The same time Chan came and pulled out to shoot it on your cunt.

Mixing both your messes, he then shoved it back in with his dick. Making you whiny-moan. He stayed like that, inside of you. Both of you are trying to catch each other's breaths, sweaty and hot. You hold onto him as you look up at your ceiling seeing white. You both stayed like that until he pulled out of you slowly, watching both your cum spilling out of you. “Only for me” he said in triumph. You let out a laugh and looked up at him. He was confused by you laughing.

You start to get up and get back into your clothes that were spread around your room, “nah christopher, i got some other guy taking me out for lobster and pasta later tonight” you walk past him, and he grabs onto your arm to make sure to get a good look at you. “What do you mean you got someone taking you out tonight?”

He almost looks hurt that after a night of passion, you are going to spend the other half of the night with some random guy. “Yeah well I've been hanging out with him some time already and I enjoy spending time with him, plus he takes me out on dates and buys my clothes” you told him nonchalantly. He looked exasperated, how could you!

“Yeah well I can too!” “oh yeah?” “yeah!” “Then why don't you do it?”

guess we both aint shit

Hyunjin

“You like that dont you?” you panted out. A moaning mess you were as you were on top of hyunjin. He was sprawled out on your king size bed. He was handcuffed to the bed frame, he wasn't allowed to touch you while you rode him. You were punishing him

You had found out that he was having sex with the sweet girl that lived next door to you. She was sweet and all but you hated her. No need to give an explanation why. He doesn't know why he’s being punished, you do though.

“Ple-please y/nnn” he whined. God you loved the whiny noises he made underneath you, you yourself tried not to cum by the sounds he was making, begging to release.

“C’mon jinnie, think why would mommy want to punish you this bad?” you said condescendingly. He looked away trying not to cum by your dominant persona.

You grab his face, squeezing his cheeks, holding him steady making sure he was looking at you. “No no no, i didn't say look away, did I?” he shook his head no, tugging on the handcuffs trying to break free, he just wanted to touch you hot, sweaty, skin. Grab on to your beautiful squishy thighs.

“N-no! I have n-no i-idea why!” he was practically crying at this point.

You stop your motion, making him open his eyes in a whiny confused look. “W-why did you stop?” “You seriously don't know why I'm punishing you?” still confused, he had no idea.

“ I saw you go to my annoying neighbor's house the other night. You got out of her apartment REALLY late; care to explain what you’ve been doing in her apartment for that long?”

He froze… he knew what he did. He had sex with her. Why? Because he knew that you hated her. You knew everything she did annoyed you. If you could do anything in your power to abolish her, you would. He knew what would have happened if you found out he’s been having sex with r/n. He wanted to push you.

In reality he was doing this to get back at you for sleeping around with guys that weren't him. He hated that you were spread open for guys that weren't him. He saw you hope out that guy’s black Challenger, pulling your skirt down. He knew, what other way to get back at you? Sleep with your annoying neighbor you hated with your dear life.

Still panting, “why do you hate her so much? She’s so sweet and she bakes cookies”

you guys weren't together but you were together, and you hoped nobody catched onto you guys

you groaned in annoyance, began to bounce on his dick. He moaned at the sudden friction, he was literally on the verge of cumming. “Oh yeah? You wanna know why I hate her sooo much?” you were panting at the rhythm of you bouncing on hyunjin’s big cock. “Because ever since you’ve been coming around, she has been trying so hard to get into your pants, shes not sweet, she's evil, and she knows that.”

you were angry, bouncing so aggressively on his dick, he couldn't keep up anymore, you’ve been teasing the shit out of his cock for almost two hours, he can't do this anymore.

“you’re mine!”

“y-y/n im gonna cum!” he whined-moaned. You were so into the anger you built that you didn't hear his pleas. “Fuck! Y/N! Please please!” he was being so loud you were pretty sure your neighbor heard. “Yes! Yes! Just like that please!”

You finally realized he was about to cum, you made sure he got louder for your neighbor to hear.

“Yeah baby? You wanna cum? Get loud for me then, don't hold back baby” you demanded.

This set of hyunjin off, he let out the most stomach-twisting, pussy-gripping, toe-curling,yummiest orgasm yet. You kept riding him until you were getting close to yours. “p-please n-no more!’ m’too much, c-cant” “yes im not done yet baby”

You were so close to your climax, just a bit more. You bend back putting your hands on his knees, holding onto something as you fucked yourself on his dick. Mouth gaping open, eyes rolled back, moaning mess, you were fucking yourself to him reaching for your high.

‘Mmh yes!, so so close baby” “fuck! m-me too!”

You leaned back forward to kiss him and moan into his mouth, you let go and cried-moaned out loud, cumming all over his cock and the sheets, squirting all over. He came as well just by seeing the mess you made on him, his cum filling you up to the brim once again. You rode your high, falling down onto him panting, feeling light-headed.

You both stayed quiet, trying to catch your guy’s breath. Once you finally relaxed you slowly slid out of him, both of you moaning and the loss of warmth. You plop down next to him, “hope this teaches you to not go fucking around with that girl” you said to him. “Oh yeah? Well i guess if you werent fucking that guy in his car, i wouldnt have” he spat back. You leaned up and gave him a shocked look. “H-how did you know that?” “i saw you y/n”

“guess we both aint shit”

The next day, you walked out of your apartment and ran into your neighbor, she gave you a scared and awkward look, avoiding eye-contact. You smiled at her

“I know you couldn't make him feel that way the way i make him feel, you wished you were me, you wish your camera rolled looked like an onlyfans of him”

“Fuck you”

“He already does and it feels great”

#x reader #smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bangchan #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #megan thee stallion #skz smut #stray kids #changbin #i.n skz #han jisung #lee know #lee felix

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brackishkittie · 1 year ago

Note

yeah it's still september but it's halloween time for me sooo

walking through a haunted house with abby and getting scared and clinging onto her every five minutes. her laughing and comforting you throughout the house and at the end ✨treats you✨ for being so brave🤭

in for it, abby anderson

— abby anderson x black!reader

synopsis: basically the request. 😭😭

c/n: just nastyyyy bro, car sex, fingering ( r!receiving ), pet names ( baby, babe, doll, sweet girl ), clit slapping, edging, and oral ( r!receiving ).

a/n: this was supposed to come out weeks ago but writers block kicked me in my ass omfg…

layout creds: @nysrage ( go check her out, her work is amazing btw. 🤭🤭 )

word count: 1.6k

it’s october and a cool festival opens up every year for everyone to go to, so you and abby decide to go since you guys go out to fun places as if it’s a tradition. after doing mostly everything in eachother’s lines of sight, abby looks at the new haunted house they opened up and her eyes just light up like a little kid looking at a candy store. “babe look! they opened up the haunted house.” she smiles wildly as she looks back at you. abby knew you liked scary shit, but you had your limits and haunted houses were one of them. you feel a frown spread across your face when you saw it.

“ohh!!…abs are you sure you can handle it?” you ask hesitantly, trying to kinda sway her away from it for now. “..yeah?? why do you think I’m trying to get inside of it?” she grabs your hand when you say nothing and walks you over to the line. “I know you not getting sassy with me abby..” you squint at her but she doesn’t take you seriously. “oh you do NOT wanna see sassy.” she laughs and you just roll your eyes. you guys talk half of the waiting time and before you know it, you’re at the front of the line. “enjoy the house!” the employee smiles at you two and lets you both in. not even 5 minutes of being inside of the house, you cling onto abby’s arm. “jeez..and you were asking me if I can handle it?” she laughs and looks around in awe, “these people need a raise, look at how much effort they put! the little ugly dolls are looking at me funny.” she says as she gets a good look at them. you guys don’t even realize that a person in a realistic ass zombie costume was sneaking up behind you guys because when you two turned around? all hell broke loose the way you screamed bloody murder.

“holy shit..YOUR FACE WAS PRICELESS!” abby starts laughing at you at you and you just frown again, “that’s not funny.” you sigh and look around again, hoping that whatever the fuck that thing was wouldn’t pop up again and scare you. “I’m sorry babe, but look, if you can make it through the rest of this house, I’ll reward you at the end. got it?” she wraps an arm around you and you cling onto her once again. she places a reassuring kiss right on your forehead and leads you through the house once more. “they put too much detail into this place..I don’t like it one bit…” you say while your grip on abby gets even tighter. “baby it’s ok, I got you. remember that none of this is actually real so you’ll be ok. I promise.” abby smiles at you and you just stay quiet, you didn’t even realize that you were holding your breath. “how much more longer do we have in here?” you whine, “not that long baby, cmon you can do it. none of this is real.”

you were ok for awhile, trying your best to keep your cool but the feeling of being watched made your stomach do flips and turns. the only thing that kept you at bay was the fact that you were holding onto your girlfriend, abby. “abby I really don’t like this.” you utter, still looking over your shoulder every now and then. “you’re a brave girl, aren’t you? we’re almost out baby.” she rubs your shoulder and you relax, you don’t feel as tense anymore and not even 5 minutes later, you guys finally make it out of that horrible place. “seeee?? no need to be scared, we made it out in one piece.” abby shoves you playfully while laughing at the face you made in return, “remind me to never ever come with you to a haunted house again..” you cross your arms and abby kisses your forehead once again. “who are you gonna cling onto then, hm?” you paused, she was right but you kissed your teeth, “whatever..let’s just get in the car, they’re gonna close soon and it’s pretty late.” you say to her, she nods and wraps an arm around your waist while you two walk back to your shared car.

“mmfgh— fuck!” you moan out, her fingers deep inside of you, while her tongue skillfully attacks your clit. her eyes never coming off of you, she’s been thinking about getting you like this for atleast half of the whole night. the way you clung onto her, the way your body pressed up against her, the way you just had her head spinning. she was so proud of you, her brave girl going through a haunted house with her and now she just wants to reward you. “abbyyyy..fuck- too much…” you whine, gripping her hair even tighter and bucking your hips, “you can take it, baby, I know you can..cmon doll, you’re brave aren’t you?” she says while she’s still ramming her fingers in and out of you, driving you absolutely nuts. you try to move back but she pulls you back by wrapping a strong arm around your leg, “don’t fucking run.” she mutters. her eyes darkening as she said it, abby looked feral. she slapped your clit and you flinched, biting the inside of your cheek. your clit was so sensitive from all the stimulation and she was aware of that. very aware. abby pulls her fingers out and shoved them into your mouth. “be a good girl and stay still. I won’t tell you again.” you nod and she takes her fingers out of your mouth.

abby slowly rubs at your clit with her thumb, holding and squeezing your left thigh with her hand while she’s holding eye contact with you again. she started rubbing your clit faster and your breathing hitched. “a-abby please it’s too much!” your back arches as you grasp at her arm for support and try to push her away, “so fuckin’ disobedient..” she groans and slaps at your clit again. she shoves her fingers back inside of you and her mouth latches back onto your clit, her tongue swirling around your bud and sucking harder than before, “abby I’m gonna fucking cum! fuckkk!” your hips buck again and as soon as you feel like your gonna cum, abby completely stops. “you can’t cum yet. you didn’t listen, so now you gotta beg for it baby.” she smirks, “sit up and get on my lap.” she pats her leg and you move onto her, and as soon as you did, she pulls your shirt off and immediately starts groping and sucking at your tits. abby looked feral, the way her hand moved down to smack your ass and make its way back over to your ache, she was all over you. as she starts fingering you again, she kisses you sloppily, your lipgloss smudging as she kisses you, and runny mascara tears rolling down your face.

“abby pleaseeee- oh fuck!” you moan out, feeling yourself reaching your high again, “you wanna cum baby? hm?” she slurs, and all you can do is nod as her half-lidded eyes watch you lose yourself from her just shoving her fingers in and out of you. “abby please let me cum..it’s too muchhhh!!” your hand grips at her shoulder and your eyes roll back from all of the stimulation. “go on sweet girl. go ahead and cum for me baby.” abby starts kissing and sucking at your neck while pinching at your sensitive nipples. the stimulation was sending you insane at this point. you look disheveled and completely drained, “I know baby, it’s okay. you’re almost there.” you felt your vision get blurry and your legs go numb as you cummed all over abby’s fingers. “such a good girl. I’ll clean up and get you something to eat on the way okay?..but first maybe get some clothes on because I may have forgotten that we’re in a parking lot…”

tags: @vnus-starr @mariefilms @machetegirl109 🤎

#brackishkittie #abby x you #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby x fem!reader #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson #abby x black reader #abby x y/n

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xxfangirl365xx · 3 months ago

Text

alright kids, gather around. I have some things I'd like to say regarding last night in a very organized list format

OVERALL SHOW THOUGHTS

Overall It was beautiful. I cried watching the stream. But sadly went to bed before it was over because I was feeling very unwell from staying up so late ): I missed blood,I'm not ok and Helena on stream but that's ok <3

MCR5,NEW TOUR?

-Did not expect them to release anything about that last night since it was night one of two. More likely they would do it tonight so I'm holding out hope for tonight since it's the more likely option

SOCIALS/ONLINE PRESENCE/POSTS

-Frank has NOT posted anything regarding MCR only dunes, which is very unlike him. As we know Frank loved MCR to death. He's the no 1 fan of his own band so I find it odd and very intentional that he has not posted anything about MCR at wwwyf only dunes

-along the same lines Mikey has not posted anything. Few weeks ago we got practice from him which was good, but all we have from him r 2 pics of him and his wife which r adorable, but not relating to MCR. also seems a little intentional to not have said anything about them playing at all

-MCR'S socials r DRY like bone dry. With swarm tour they posted things about "tonight were playing in (blank) at (blank time)" or something like that but they didn't post anything about WWWYF apart from when tickets went on sale for both days which is a little odd in my opinion

for all of them the silence seems ominous. Like they r trying to build suspense

OUTFIT'S, STAGE,GEE'S HAIR

-All black outfits head to toe, they looked good but it was very lacking black parade tbh (not a bad thing they looked so cute tho)

-STAGE-

-Only projections of spiders,tree (during cancer),swords,bridge (?),worms (?)

-SPIDERS PROJECTED

-swarm logo=fly

-spiders= eat flies

-"Witch" was leaked earlier this year. Paper kingdom was the album meant to come right after black parade. Their aesthetic kinda similar. Whites,blacks ect.

-some of the visuals like the swords was giving very paper kingdom 100% and if I rly did see a bridge projection in the background that's also very much the vibe. but most this stuff was done in short flashes across the backdrop

-Gee's hair-

-New haircut (stunning btw)

-new era? Gee had changed his hair for new era's. bullets/revenge it stayed pretty much the same apart from random dye jobs here and there but during black parade he got it real short and bleached it. Danger days ht dyed it red. hair is a big thing when it comes to Gee.

-New hair since shrine show (2019) pretty much. He's had long hair since MCR has come back together. U could argue it was to look nice but think about all the other stuff he's done that was also a big deal like umbrella acad final season and stuff. Why didn't he get a haircut then? Why now? and why was he hiding it?

-The last vid we got was earlier in the week the birthday one and he had the long hair still. It was recent like he did this JUST for the shows.

-i'm 100% taking this is a way of moving into a new era for MCR

MERCH

-some people were kinda bummed there was no new cool merch from the festival apart from the DEAD! zip up which is pretty cool ngl

-kinda looked like they were trying to get rid of older stuff before making something new perhaps?

-spending more time and resources on NEW shirts for a NEW album makes more sense than spending all the time and resources on designing new shirts for black parade when they can do that pretty much any time

HOPES FOR TONIGHT'S SHOW

I will not be staying up this time sorry guys. I slept 4 hours last night and feel very unwell from it. So i'll be sleeping tonight sadly but here is my hopes and predictions for tonight.

-MCR will play just like last night with the visuals and stuff but will maybe play one new song or announce it some how with the backdrop and "Paper Kingdom" will be announced to be released on OCT. 31

-Their socials will go live with all the info immediately

-Shortly after the album comes out there will be tour dates announced for spring/summer of 2025 INCLUDING warped tour

-END-

thanks for listening to my rambles if I think of more i'll add it to the list but I wanted a cohesive place to put all my findings and thoughts to share

#my chemical romance #mcr #my chemical fucking romance #gee way #g way #gerard way #ray toro #mikey way #frank iero

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luveline · 2 years ago

Note

hi!! i was wondering if you would write more ab spencer, r, and baby amanda from your single dad au? :o they’re so precious <3

Thank you for your request! ♥︎ fem!reader 1.6k

"How come you aren't hungover?" Spencer asks.

You can barely hear him over the cacophony of the crowd. You're waiting for Hotch to finish his decathlon, the girls in their sunglasses, Jack and Morgan holding a homemade sign aloft.

Amanda's sitting on the barrier with her weight against Spencer's chest, her soft brown hair splayed out against his collar like a wave.

"I know the meaning of moderation," you say with a sweet smile.

You might be imagining the pinking of his cheeks. "Not moderate enough, clearly," he jokes.

JJ hadn't picked Henry up until three in the morning. Which is fine, Spencer will take Henry whenever he needs to, as per his self-ordained godfathering duties, but when JJ hadn't appeared at 11 like she'd promised, Spencer had obviously been worried.

"Things got a little… out of control." You dip your face to his ear. "I've never seen Emily dance like that. It was crazy."

"I wish I could've been there, but we had a date with Edward Tulane, didn't we, Amy?"

Amanda tips her head back at her father's affectionate tone. "Daddy, I can't feel my butt."

"Not your butt!" he says, taking her seriously but chuckling at the same time as he pulls her up and off of the barrier. With some careful manoeuvring, he's tucked Amanda into his chest, one hand held protectively over the bottom of her back. The other hooks behind her knees.

"Is that better?"

He speaks to her with the same fatherly fondness as always and every time you find yourself melty like butter in the summer sun. In Spencer's eyes, Amanda is the smartest, most interesting girl alive. You're tempted to agree.

"I was worried it might be depressing for her," he says, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It's sad for a children's story, you know? But she's really interested, and it's important for kids to hear sad stories. Children who read stories with unhappy plotlines are more empathetic, and have a stronger sense of justice." He smiles at her. "Plus, I think it's her favourite so far. She asked if we could read it again, all in one go. It's gonna take hours."

"That doesn't surprise me. I mean, she's yours. I thought you'd be reading her Tolstoy by now."

"I'm saving Tolstoy for first grade."

He's serious.

Hotch runs through the finish line and the members of the BAU that are assembled cheer loudly. He doesn't seem embarrassed at all, only proud, ducking down to give Jack a sweaty hug. Then he, Jack, and his new girlfriend move away from the group. The remaining members of your team start to break away, too.

The girls all want to go home and die in their own beds. Rossi and Morgan have separate dates. You're thinking you'll go home and shoot the breeze until a more reasonable bedtime when Spencer turns to you with his usual genial smile.

"Do you want to come over? We're gonna make pasta and watch Fraggle Rock."

Spencer's changed a lot since he became Amanda's primary caregiver, but some things stay the same. He loves doing things with other people and he'll always extend an invite if he thinks the other party might enjoy themselves. Going over for dinner feels a lot more intimate than his having an extra ticket for a foreign film festival, or late night takeout, though.

"I don't want to impose," you say awkwardly.

"Do you think you're an imposition?" Spencer asks in concern.

"No, just, you know, I don't…"

"Amy doesn't mind. Do you, sweetheart?"

"What?" says Amanda's little voice.

"Can Y/N come for dinner?" he asks.

Amanda smiles, pearly white teeth and cheeks chubby with baby fat. "Yes! We're gonna make pasta and watch Fraggle Rock!"

You laugh in delight.

"We decided in the car," Spencer explains.

"Here I thought you were telepathic." You direct your smile at Amanda's doe eyes. "I'd love to come for dinner. Thanks, baby."

Spencer has the cleanest car any parent has ever had. You know he spent days choosing the safest one he could find in his budget, and even more days on a car seat. His apartment is just as clean but way more crowded, stuffed to bursting with Amanda's toys and his books.

"I'm gonna change, do you mind?" he asks, leading you down the hall into the kitchen. Amanda had tipped half a juice box down his front, and the stickiness is clearly making him uncomfortable.

"No, by all means."

He smiles. "Stay here," he says with a feigned sternness, pointing one of his pretty fingers at Amanda. His daughter only giggles.

You follow Spencer with your eyes as he leaves.

"Will you take off my shoes, please?"

You look down. Amanda stares up at you, her round eyes pleading, one foot held a half inch off of the ground.

You leap to action, and say, "Oh! Yeah, baby, no problem," as you get down on your knees.

They're simple buckles and take all of ten seconds. Amanda holds onto your arm and lifts her feet one at a time so you can pull them off. Her small toes wiggle in her socks when she puts them back on the floor.

"Feel better?" you ask knowingly.

"Daddy says shoes are a con-d-struct," she tells you.

"They are!" you say, though whether you really agree might take some thought. "They're silly, huh?"

"Yeah. If we walked with no shoes, we would have tough skin like trees!"

"Like trees," you repeat. You love listening to little kids speak because they're so full of joy to share what they know, and Spencer Reid's kid? She is a walking book of facts. "That's so cool, did daddy tell you that?"

"Daddy tells me everything."

Spencer appears in a graphic t-shirt. You've only seen him dressed down through barely open hotel room doors or in photographs with Amanda. It takes a second for your brain to recognise what you're seeing.

He's a genius, so he understands what you're doing immediately.

"Oh no," he coos, bending down to take Amanda's shoulders into his hands. "I'm so sorry," —he kisses the top of her head— "I forgot all about your shoes. How will you ever get tree bark feet?"

It's sweet to see how she responds to his affection. Her eyes squint closed and she smiles softly, giggling when he scratches her shoulders through her dress.

"Thanks for releasing her, she can't stand wearing shoes when she doesn't have to," he says to you, nudging her out of the way to offer you his hand.

You take it, letting him pull you up. He doesn't let go of you straight away, instead brushing his thumb over your fingernails, one after another.

"I've been meaning to ask you to dinner for a while. I– I've never been any good at this part, I thought it would be harder, because Amanda's the only girl in the world I understand no matter how many books I read, and that's not going to last forever, but I…" Spencer's voice steadily quietens, until the tone he's using is dulcet, and his brows have pulled together. He's just as pretty frowning as smiling. "It feels easy, with you," he finishes.

"Are we having macaroni?" Amanda asks.

Spencer looks torn. "I was thinking rigatoni," he says.

"Gross, dad."

"Farfalle?"

"Bowties?" she questions suspiciously.

"Is that better than rigatoni?" he asks.

Amanda dwells on this, leaning her weight into your leg. It's an unthinking gesture that fills you with light.

"We can't have macaroni?"

You know from Spencer's bemused sigh alone that she's about to get her way.

"Do you mind?" he asks you.

Amanda pins you with a pout, raising her hands into a praying triangle. Her puppy dog eyes are killer and unnecessary.

"Whatever you want, babe," you say hurriedly.

She bursts off to her toys with an excited cheer. You're sorry to see her go, petrified of embracing yourself, and still majorly caught off guard by what Spencer said. He's wanted to ask you over for dinner for a long time, does that mean he likes you? And the way he'd held your hand — that's not an ambiguous affection.

You like Spencer. All the small things that make him him, and the huge things too. His daughter, his books, his genius mind and his clumsy heart. If he likes you too, you might just combust.

Spencer nips into the living room to put Fraggle Rock on TV. Amanda's sweet voice chases his heels, her singing a mixture of melodic gibberish and passionate recitation.

You linger as he starts to gather what he needs for dinner. He's either not worried about what you think of his confession or trying to hide that he is, knee deep in a recount of the invention of boxed mac and cheese when you touch his elbow.

"I know what you mean, about what you said before, I feel the same. It feels easy with you."

You don't know what it is. But Spencer knows everything, so you aren't worried.

He beams. His smile warps each word he says as he turns back to the saucepan he's filling with pasta. "Maybe we should get dinner without Fraggle Rock, sometime."

"I don't know, I don't think it gets any better than this." You nod your head toward the living room, Amanda's singing an adorable echo.

His smile grows impossibly bigger.

"Me neither," he says.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #dad!spencer reid #dad spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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please-let-me-be-horny · 6 months ago

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Fan Service.

(Ok! So this story literally took way longer than I thought it would. I may have gotten a little too invested in the characters. But !!!TW!!! This piece of fiction features questionable consent, r*pe and intox. This is entirely a fictional fantasy based off a dream one of my favourite mutuals had about The Good, The Bad, and The Neutral.)

The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing down at the panting, bleeding mess of their latest victim. Bad had done what he did best and made him suffer, whilst Neutral and Good kept an eye on the door. They knew their roles. They knew their responsibilities. Good made for a convincing underage girl. Neutral was tech savvy enough to locate where this creep was. Bad taught him the lessons he needed to learn. They had just gotten done with their first lesson and were taking a moment to let him recover for the next lesson. It was during this momentary break in the festivities that the chime of the library door sounded, drawing their attention back towards the entrance.

"you forgot to hang the closed sign in the window, didn't you, Good?"

"there was a closed sign?"

Bad let out a frustrated grunt, turning back around and sending a fist into the side of the librarians head, tipping him over in his chair and silencing him.

"your fuck up. Your responsibility. Go make whoever it is disapear, idiot."

Good huffed, trudging towards the front of the library.

It was only a small basement dwelling. A few book shelves lining a long and narrow space. Claustrophobic was the word that came to mind as Good shuffled his way between the shelves. He made no attempt to conceal himself, poking his head around a book shelf and spotting their intruder.

She wasn't wearing a police uniform, which was already a good sign. Instead She was dressed for comfort. A large, loose fitting shirt, baggy worn out jeans and a pair of trainers. She was also soaking wet from the heavy rain outside, shivering and dripping all over the floor.

"uhh...hello? Sorry, I only stopped in to get out of the rain...what's with the mask?"

Good took a moment, eye brows raised as he quickly thought up an excuse. "Uuh... fumigation...lots of uh...dust and stuff here, you probably don't wanna be breathing any of this in...here, come inside, it's safe, you just don't wanna hang around too long..." Nailed it. Good stepped out from around the book shelf, approaching the girl and reaching into his back pocket for the rag he had used to chloraphorm the librarian only a few hours earlier.

"are you sure? I really don't wanna be a burden if you're in here working..."

Good simply nodded, lifting the cloth up to her face and gently pressing it over her mouth and nose. By now any of the remaining fumes from the previous dosing of chloraphorm will have mostly faded, but it was gonna be more than enough for someone of such a small stature.

"o-oh! Thank....yooou?" Her voice faded quickly as her eyes rolled backwards. Good was quick to step closer and support her body weight, turning her back to his chest and begining to drag her backwards deeper into the library. "Shhhh sweetheart, let's get you out of these wet clothes....you'll catch your death like that..."

Hearing the sounds of heels dragging against the carpet, Bad and Neutral turned to watch as Good dragged the girls body across the floor and gently laying her down Infront of them.

"What kind of fucking "disappearing" act is this? You just gave us another witness to dispose of, you fucking moron." Neutral raised his hands to his temples, rubbing the growing headache out from the sides of his skull.

"look I'm not gonna send some poor girl back out into the rain, besides, I gave her the rag" His voice came out with a hint of exasperation on his tone, as Good began rummaging through her pockets to find her phone and purse, and tossing them to Bad. "you know I'm not good at thinking on my fe-"

"hhhnmh..." Their fresh hostage squirmed on the floor, her eyes fluttering slightly as she rolled onto her side, sleeping. The three of them stood motionless, ready to act if she woke up.

"you said you ragged her"

"I did! I didn't have time to apply a full dose, she only got the left overs of the librarians hit"

Both Neutral and Good continued to bicker amongst themselves in hushed tones as Bad scrolled through the girls phone, letting out a short and sinister chuckle. She was a following his blog. He even recognised the username from his notifications. Kneeling down, he reached down and offered her face a few firm slaps, drawing her out of her unconscious state, and holding her phone up to her sight line, showing her his blog. He didn't speak. He never did. He simply held a finger up to the part of his mask where his mouth would be, indicating silence as he gazed directly into her hazy eyes.

"y-you're....hmm you're eyes are priiiiiddyyyy...." Clearly she was still heavily dosed, speaking with a lazy tone and reaching up to place her hands on Bads face. Turning to the others, Bad passed her phone to Neutral, letting him scroll through the girls blog as Bad began removing her clothes.

"...are we sure it's a good idea to let him...you know..."

"only about as good as your idea to bring her into the shop instead of getting rid of her like I asked you to. Go lock the door. And put the fucking closed sign up this time."

Behind his glasses, Good rolled his eyes, and once again trudged off to the front, leaving Neutral and Bad to their own priorities.

"Bad, go get the tape. If she's gonna stay, we don't want her running off and getting us in trouble....though based on the things she has liked on your blog, I don't think she is gonna mind so much." Neutral was quite surprised by what he found in her likes. He knew Bad had an online following of perverts, but he hadn't expected to ever meet any of them.

Bad nodded, standing up and moving towards the back of the library to collect his toy box. Neutral remained with the girl, stepping over her hips and standing over her, he bent down at the hips to look into her dazed and puzzled eyes. "You, my dear, chose the wrong basement. But it's ok, I'm not going to hurt you. But we need to ensure your silence....so we're going to make a little movie for Bads blog...you seem to be a fan so I'm sure you won't mind." The poor girl only responded with a slow and hazy "w-wait...."

Neutral placed her phone in his pocket, before producing his own, and setting it up on one of the shelves. He fussed about the positioning and the light. Even going so far as to gently push her across the rough carpet with his boot in order to position her more conveniently for his video. He grit his teeth a little as his OCD began nagging at him. She was still wet. And it was soaking into the carpet causing an unpleasant squelching beneath his feet. It was too much for his senses.

As Good and Bad returned, they found Neutral stood over her naked body, folding her clothes neatly and placing them in a tidy pile on one of the emptier book shelves, having removed the rest of her clothing. As the two stood gawking at her, neutral was the only one still focused on the task at hand, rolling his eyes and snapping his fingers Infront of the two of them. "For fuck sake, get on with it."

A sinister chuckle escaped from Bads mouth, muffled and raspy as it rattled out from the base of his throat. Good on the other hand, was a little more hesitant. She looked so small and fragile alone down there by herself. "p-pleaash....n-no." the words came out with little to no strength behind them, she was practically whispering as her eyes swayed and rolled lazily in her head, as her jaw hung uncomfortably loose.

Things began to escalate quickly once Neutral hit Record in his phone. Good was first. And as always, was gentle. Unfastening his belt, he lowered his jeans, and produced his rapidly hardening cock, giving it a few lazy strokes as he moved down onto his knees, and began crawling into a position to mount her. "I'm really sorry, this won't take long...I promise I'll be quick about it, sweetheart...I'll try to make this enjoyable for you..." He whispered the words softly into her ear, his breathing was trembling as he lined his cock up with her exposed pussy, surprised and encouraged to find she was actually wet. She lifted her head once again, her eyes soft and empty as they gazed up into the lenses if his glasses, tears begining to well up in her eyes, before falling down her face and blending in with the rain. "S-stop....I...."

Meanwhile, kneeling down behind her, Bad had opened his toy box, an old aluminium tool box that had been "signed" with the bloody finger prints of his victims. sliding his finger tips across a series of cutting implements and hammers, he took his time deciding what he would use for her, ultimately deciding that any fan of his deserves to get an autograph...cut into their flesh. He shifted his position slightly, so his knees pinned her shoulders to the messy carpet, once again bringing a finger up to his face to shush her whilst Good began entering her body.

Neutral stood leaning against the wall, watching the two of them have their fun. The concept of going near that wet patch of carpet was giving him hives, but the act of watching his counterparts drug and rape an innocent bystander for blackmail materials was just another day for him. Even when Good started to become more desperate in his thrusts, panting softly and whispering his apologies, Neutral couldnt stop his body reacting as his own cock stirred and pulsed in his pants.

"I'm nearly....nearly done, dear, just keep still....it's ok, it's nearly over....I'm sorry...." Good's breath hitched in his throat as his first shameful orgasm pulsed through him, slamming his hips down into hers and filling her warmth with his own. He shuddered as she lay there motionless, sickened by his enjoyment of her soft and delicate whimpering, and the feeling of her insides clamping down on him to resist as she sobbed silently beneath him.

Bad relished in watching her face during all of this, tilting his head in morbid curiosity as his eyes scanned over her pained and miserable features. She looked so pretty like this. They always did. Good was done and Bad was eager to leap on his next meal. His muscles tensed and his back arched as he began to rise to his feet. But as Good pulled out of her, and stood up to distance himself from his own mess, Neutral stepped in, holding a hand up to bad to stop him for a moment. "No....give her a break first...."

Bad huffed behind his mask, his knuckles turning white as he clentched his chosen blade in his fist. The glare he shot at Neutral was acidic enough to burn through tungsten, but he did as instructed, freeing her shoulders of his body weight and standing over her. "Move her somewhere more comfortable....this floor is disgusting." He spoke casually, as if he hadn't just watched good rape her. Taking his phone, he paused the recording, and assisted in dragging her body further back into the basement, into a darker corner away from where the librarian lay.

"Don't be afraid...I'm not going to hurt you like the others will...but I need to prove a point..." Neutrals tone was flat. Like he was reading instructions off a manual. Even as he lowered himself onto his knees into a position straddling her chest, he was composed and emotionless. Unfastening his belt, he tossed his phone to Bad. "I'll be done soon...don't worry..."

Bad smirked behind his mask and restarted the recording as Neutral began stroking his cock. It didn't take long for him to get hard, especially watching her tears begin to run down her face. "That's it...make it look good for the camera..." Behind his mask, Neutral bit his lip. The feeling of his balls resting against the softness of her tits as he jerked off over her had him shuddering slightly. "Please, I j-jus-" Neutrals hand came down hard, slapping her across the face with his free hand, before moving it to grip her by the hair. "I'll fucking ask when I want you to speak..."

She lay there's, silently sobbing as Neutrals cock was pumped aggressively inches from her face. Though he wasn't cruel, Neutral enjoyed humiliating his hostages. He cooed softly, tutting as he smeared the precum leaking from his cock onto her face and across her eyes. "That's it...keep struggling, I'm getting close...." For the first time since they had entered the shop, Neutrals composure was slipping. There was a violent desperation in his voice now as he rapidly jerked himself closer and closer to climax. "Open your fucking mouth and ask nicely...be a good little whore for Bad"

She let out a soft whine as he pulled her hair, angling her face up towards Bad and the camera. "Beg your family to forgive you.... apologies for being such an eager little victim..." She swallowed hard, earning herself a slap for hesitating against Neutrals orders. "P-please m-mister....please cum....i-i'm sorry I'm such a p-pervert online....I'm s-sorry th-that I asked for this..."

Neutral let out a satisfied grunt as his orgasm hit, spraying his load across her face and tits as she looked up into the camera. She flinched and sobbed as each rope of his heavy load landed on his skin and mixed in with the rain and tears already covering her body. "hmm....there's a good little whore...ok Bad, she's all yours..." Neutral quickly regained his composure and stood up, tucking his cock back into his pants and dusting carpet lint off if his clothes and pants. "take the camera. Me and Good will get the car ready...I think we're done here".

As Neutral turned around, he came face to face with Good, who was stood, arms crossed, frowning at Neutral from behind his glasses and mask. "You're a psychopath, you know that?" Neutral simply waved him off and pushed him towards the front of the library, leaving Bad alone with their new victim.

From her place in the ground, the hostage watched as Bad casually picked his chosen blade up again, before squatting down and once again holding the young girls phone in his hand. Offering it to her, he revealed he had her blog open. He scrolled through for a moment, pointing out all the times she has unknowingly reblogged from his own blog. How he has been following her blog for a while. They were even mutuals. He smiled silently to himself as the realisation and fear began to creep into her eyes. Once more, he held a finger up to his lip, before moving the blade down to her skin.

"please don't, don't do tha-aaah!" Her words were cut short as Bad found a place on her exposed thigh, gripping the flesh with his free hand and spreading it thin for a cleaner cut, as he began to draw the blade across her skin, cutting into her. She struggled. She screamed. But it was all white noise for him. Even as the blood began to gather against the webbing of his fingers and collect under his finger nails, he continued, until his mark was complete. A small skull, encircled in a heart. His forever. And her forever reminder of him.

Satisfied with his work, he could begin focusing on his fun. He moved the blade, still dripping with her blood, up to her face, and pressed the edge of it firmly against her cheek bone, as he began to aggressively pull apart her legs, placing them on his shoulders and leaning forward to trap her, folded in half, beneath his body weight. She looked so pretty like this.

He was rough with her. Forcing his cock into her ass and relishing in her screams as he smashed his hips into the back of her thighs. He growled and huffed in an animalistic fashion as he gripped her legs against his body and pulled her body back and fourth to meet his aggressive, stabbing thrusts. It hurt for a moment before her body and brain began to melt. Soon her useless, doped up struggling stopped, replaced only by the whining and pained moans escaping her mouth as he pounded into her.

"ah....ah....ah..." She lay there helpless beneath him, gazing up into the eyes of the stranger she had lusted after privately. Even now, bleeding, bruised and on the verge of unconsciousness, she could feel the insides of her pussy heating up and warming up to her rapist, as Goods cum leaked out of her and down into her asshole, lubing up Bads cock as he fucked it deeper and deeper into her suffering ass hole. This wasn't desperation or humiliation anymore. This was Bads reward for the hard work he had done earlier in the day with the librarian. This was him claiming a worthy victim. This was Bad giving his fan something to remember. Even now as he got lost in his own pleasure, the knife held to her cheek began to cut into the side of her face as his thrusts became more and more feral.

"s-stop....stop I'm gonna...." She whimpered helplessly, letting out a pained and shameful moan of twisted ecstacy and sobbing as her eyes were locked onto his. She was cumming. She was experiencing an orgasm from being the free use doll of a sick and murderous stranger. He let out a sinister chuckle, feeling the muscles of her asshole tighten around his cock as he rutted into her harder. Her pleas for mercy only encouraged his desire to make her feel pain, knowing she has just exposed her own enjoyment on camera.

He didn't even warn her when he reached his climax. He didn't slow down or stop or grunt. He just fucked into her harder and harder as he sprayed the contents of his balls against the insides of her ass. His cock throbbed and pulsed angrily as each, solid thrust delivered more and more of this bastards cum into her tight virgin body. She was fully used. Covered and filled with the cum of strangers. All of it caught on camera.

Satisfied, Bad pulled out, and shifted his body to lay in the ground next to her, once more opening her phone up and gripping her by the hair, he posed next to her, knife to her throat, and took a selfie. He tapped on the screen for a moment, captioning the picture, before dropping her phone to the ground beside her and standing up. He collected his gear, gave the librarian another harsh kick to the ribs, before gently and affectionately russling the poor girls hair, and leaving the library to join his partners in the car outside.

She lay there, broken and used for a while, letting the feeble half dose of chloraphorm wear off. Once the strength had returned to her body, she sat up and checked her leg where Bad had cut into her, wincing in pain as she shifted to stand up. Collecting her phone, she opened it to check the photo Bad had taken of them. She didn't even need to open her camera roll, as her lock screen had been replaced with the selfie he had took.

The caption simply read "Fan Service".

#d's stuff #the good the bad the neutral #bd/sm blog #bd/sm kink #cnc kidnapping #cnc k!nk #cnc free use #intox cnc #intox kink #r@pe kink #assisted r@pe #r@pe fantasy #blackmail kink #blackmail fantasy #d's stories

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kim-jongin-s · 1 month ago

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svt fic recs (mostly nc-17; jeongcheol, minwon, seokgyu, wonchan + other)

JEONGCHEOL

"uncomplicated". college!au. oneshot, 3.5k. r.

He doesn't lean into it, to the gravity that pulls himself bodily to Seungcheol. He doesn't have the excuse of alcohol anymore, and he has to go back to how they were before the high of hormones and lust. Jeonghan just keeping an arm's length away. Close enough to reach, but still an infinity away.

"promise of the solstice". royalty!au: knight!sc, prince!jh. oneshot, 43k. pg-13.

New friends, joyous festivities, and blossoming love is the nature of the Winter Solstice. It would be better, Jeonghan thinks, without the attempt on Prince Minghao's life.

"amorem et circenses". historical!au, omegaverse: alpha gladiator!sc, omega prince!jh. 3 chapters, 68k. nc-17. ♡

Jeonghan, heir to the Roman Empire, is conquered too. By a gladiator, Seungcheol, whom he's not supposed to love, for the sake of Rome.

"lean on me". college!au. 8 chapters, 73k. nc-17.

“Choi Seungcheol.” The guy introduces himself, holding his hand out for Jeonghan to take it. It is a friendly and completely non-provoking gesture. Jeonghan doesn’t take it.

“Don’t I also get a name?” Seungcheol asks curiously as Jeonghan reaches for the door handle. Jeonghan pauses, throwing a mischievous grin in Seungcheol’s direction.

“No.”

MINWON

"everybody wants a taste (that's why)". oneshot, 2.5k. nc-17.

Wonwoo gets jealous and Mingyu tries to make it up to him.

"professor jeon and the room of requirement". hogwarts!au. oneshot, 3k. nc-17.

professor jeon and his favorite quidditch star in the room of requirement.

"nevergreen". au. oneshot, 10k. nc-17.

Wonwoo doesn’t expect to run into Kim Mingyu in the buffet line during the dinner break at the Fashion and Luxury Brand Financial Management Conference—but it happens.

"can i get "i told you so" in the chat?". au: streamer!ww, volleyball player!mg. 12 chapters, 98.5k. pg-13. ♡♡

“Repeat that one more time, but slower,” Chan suggests.

“An interview came out with Kim Mingyu, the ace hitter of the Olympic men’s volleyball team,” Seungkwan says slowly. “And he’s a fan of Wonwoo hyung. Like, a huge fan.”

↳ "closer, closer, even closer". au: streamer!ww, volleyball player!mg. oneshot, 6k. nc-17.

When you're dating Kim Mingyu, of all people, it's only natural to yearn for him a little. Especially when he's been in Japan for a week and Wonwoo only gets to see him on TV and there's a big Mingyu-sized hole in the apartment. Right?

So, anyway. Wonwoo yearns.

SEOKGYU

"tell me, we belong together". omegaverse: beta!dk, alpha!mg. oneshot, 11k. nc-17.

Omega and Alpha noses singe with the acrid scent of a possessive, pissed-off Kim Mingyu. In his arms, Seokmin rests, Beta senses none-the-wiser.

"뺏긴 my heart, that boys a killer". oneshot, 16k. pg-13.

Like the jagged edges of a knife. Like the unexpected sharp prick of pain from a small thorn hidden beneath beautiful flower petals. It draws you in, the vibrancy in its colors, the slightly musky scent, swaying freely in the open field. Only hidden beneath can be the sticky sap sticking you together or the thorns pushing you away.

Mingyu’s heart threads itself in thorns.

WONCHAN

"treat me like dinner". au. oneshot, 2k. nc-17.

A dopey satisfied look crosses Wonwoo’s face before sharpening into something more unreadable when his eyes travel down his body. Chan’s breath hitches as the other’s right hand lands on his thigh, his left one squeezing his waist.

“This is new,” Wonwoo hums, twisting the soft fabric of Chan’s circle skirt between his fingers. “I don’t remember seeing you wearing it before.”

"in a frame". au: photographer!ww. oneshot, 9.6k. pg-13.

With every photo Wonwoo takes, Chan finds himself staring into the eye of the lens.

It shouldn’t mean everything, but it does.

OTHER

"waiting in intermission". gyuhao. omegaverse: alpha!mg, omega!mh. oneshot, 2k. nc-17.

Mingyu remembers when he used to ask for it— wanting, aching for the indifference Minghao reeked of. Asked for it until he no longer had to, until Minghao just knew.

"my heart by your side forever". jigyu. omegaverse: alpha!wz, omega!mg. oneshot, 2.6k. pg-13.

mingyu presents. jihoon tries to process this fact in a normal way.

"[baby] i'm just trying to play it cool". wonwoo/dk/dino. college!au. oneshot, 11k. pg-13.

Seokmin makes it his mission to teach his roommate Wonwoo how to flirt.

The plan backfires spectacularly on him.

"find nothing good". seokcheol. fantasy!au: werewolf!sc, hunter!dk. oneshot, 16k. nc-17.

There isn’t an easy answer, no way for Seokmin to explain that yes, he’s attracted to Seungcheol. Yes, he knows Seungcheol is a wolf, a natural born monster that should be eradicated. Seokmin has spent his entire life like this, learning to kill, killing, hands stained black and red and candy blue.

"curse the moon". seoksoon. magic!au: hunter!dk. oneshot, 19k. r.

Darkness is starting to envelope his senses, and he doesn’t know if it’s due to the night getting deeper or to the pain. Stopping in his tracks, he manages to raise his head towards the sky; the branches over his head look like distorted faces, leering at him, reminding him that he’s doomed. There’s a silver smile there, a slice of moon shining a bit of reflected light down on Earth. The snow seems even whiter.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic recs #svt fanfic #svt ff #svt fic #jeongcheol #coupjeong #minwon #meanie #seokgyu #wonchan #fic rec #seoksoon #seokcheol #jigyu #gyuhao #ot3

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trixie-in-wonderland · 26 days ago

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Event Theme Song 🎵

my main account: @trixiegalaxy

a fanfiction TWST Christmas event based off the game, Bridge to Another World: The Christmas Curse, with a female reader/MC.

Plot; After boarding the Polar Express, (Y/N), Grim, Ace, Deuce, Epel, Vil, Rook, Azul, Ruggie, Kalim, Lilia, and Idia find themselves in the north pole where a huge Christmas festival is being held. But the festivities come to a halt when Santa's evil twin brother, Krampus, attacks the village and starts turning people into christmas ornaments. Later on, it's revealed that Krampus intends to seize control of all the magic in Twisted Wonderland in addition to destroying Christmas forever. Will (Y/N) and her friends be able to stop Krampus? Or will this be the last Christmas in Twisted Wonderland?

Story Info (Please Read!)

Book 1 Chapters - 1, 2, 3, 4

Book 2 Chapters - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Book 3 Chapters - [Coming Soon]

Christmas Event Card Drawing Challenge

I thought it might be fun to add a drawing challenge along with my fake event, where you can draw your TWST OC or Yuusonas in your own event outfit. Please read my story and the challenge's rules before drawing anything! Event outfits are in Book 1 - Chapter 3 of my fanfiction story.

Challenge Rules:

If you do this challenge, please reblog this post!

you may tag your TWST artist friends when you post your drawing to see if they also want to do the challenge. But it's entirely up to them if they do it or not! And please do not tag an artist who has already been tagged!

When you post your drawing, please add the tag "A Twisted Christmas Story Event" and a link to this post.

Your drawing must be in the form of a character card! If you do an R card, just use the regular R card background. If you do an SSR card, you can draw your own picture or background for it. If you do an SR card, please use the following picture for the background (it was made by @k-looking-glass-house ):

You may add a full-body picture of your character's outfit in your post, along with your character card.

If you want, you can draw a Groovy version of your event card. You can also write your own Vignettes and voice lines to go along with your event card.

Please don't add any inappropriate words or pictures on your outfit! Such as curse words or nudity pictures.

Please do not add blood or gore to your drawing!

Do not draw someone else's OC unless you get permission or they commission you! If you do get permission or commission, please add who the OC belongs to in your post.

You can also add headcanons about what it would be like if your OC was in the event.

You may do more then one character for this challenge, but please post their event cards separately!

You may also make an event card of canon TWST characters wearing the event outfits, including the characters I add to my fanfiction story (but put them in the outfits I chose for them, it took a long time trying to find the perfect Christmas pajamas for each of them 😭).

Your character's event outfit must be in the form of Christmas theme pajamas. The pajamas can be in the style of a two piece or onesie. You can also do a night gown, but if you do, please give them pajamas pants underneath! The pajamas shirt must have long sleeves and the pajamas pants must be long legged.

The theme of your pajamas can be anything Christmas related: candycanes, christmas cookies, snowman, hot cocoa, penguins, Santa Claus, polar bears, etc. You can also mix themes together, for example: snowman & reindeer, Santa Claus & candy canes, or hot cocoa & christmas cookies.

The color scheme of the event outfit can be anything you want.

Your pajamas top can be replaced with a pull-on hooded sweat jacket, but the jacket must be the same Christmas theme as your pajamas pants.

You can make your character's outfit similar or the same as any of the event outfits I gave the TWST characters in my fanfiction story.

If you want, you can add a scarf, earrings, or necklace to your outfit.

Your character's hairstyle can be whatever you want.

Your outfit must include the following items (they don't have to be the same color or style as the following picture):

A santa hat - you can make the hat any color you want. you can add antlers, christmas lights, or anything like that to your hat. But if your OC is wearing a hooded onesie, you don't have add the hat, and just have your OC be wearing the hood on their head instead.

Mitten style gloves

An open front winter vest or sweater or sweater vest - But if you have replaced your pajamas top with a pull-on hooded sweat jacket, then don't add any of these.

Slippers that have soles on the bottom - the slippers can be plain winter ones or the cute character theme ones.

I'm tagging for this challenge; @cheekinpermission , @oya-oya-okay , @terminuslucis , @tickledpink31 , @cheerleaderman , @clovenoko , @deppytwistverse , @rizdoodls , @cozymochi , and @sunnysidesevenup

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earlgreytea68 · 2 months ago

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its just one of those days where ive had coffees for closers on repeat

sighhhh

have u ever done an analysis of the song? if not what r ur thoughts?? hope ur having a good day btw xx

Ugh, this song is such a gutpunch. I've talked about it briefly in the context of how it reworks lines from Pete's poem "to you (unfinished, off the top of my head)" in THE MOST PAINFUL WAY POSSIBLE:

He does the same thing with the lyrics he borrows for (coffee’s for closers). Pete’s poem sets the tone for fairy-tale storytelling right at the beginning: “It all started with some friends and a van, a kick drum inside my ribs, preaching electric into a microphone stand.” These beginning images are fond: holding up red cups at house parties, falling asleep together on the grass during festivals, laughing. But Patrick carves those lines out and brackets them with “I will never believe in anything again, we will never believe again.” What an answer to this poem out of Patrick: to take those words and slap them between endless proclamations of not falling for that fairy tale again. Even worse, he tops it off with a rewrite of the “read the charts” line: the poem reads “you can get lonely when u only read the charts.” This feels like more on the theme of “you can get everything you want [but it’s never enough], but it won’t actually make you happy.” You can read the charts, and FOB would be on top of them, but it’s lonely up there, and you need more than that. But the line in (coffee’s for closers) goes: “Only get lonely when you read the charts.” The movement of that “only” shifts the line for me. There are a bunch of ways to read it, but for me it reads like: “You only get lonely when you remember you’re in a band. You’re so busy running around being the life of the party, you’re never, ever lonely unless you’re paying attention to your band.”

The thing is, I consider that poem a fond and wistful love poem from Pete to Patrick, trying to reach across a great chasm, and at first the pain of it is how Patrick initially writes songs that take those lines and rejects them, twists them, spits them back out. Eventually he doesn't. Eventually he soothes the lines back into answering love songs. But in the beginning, he writes songs that are fiery rejections of the mood of this poem, and (coffee's for closers) is one of them. Pete's poem reads all us believers still believe. Patrick in this song writes, over and over and over again, slamming it home, I will never believe again. Take that, Pete Wentz! Never! Again!

To me it's just a brutal song about hating how everything turned out but not seeing a way out of it (I want everything to change and stay the same). The Genius annotation says throw your cameras in the air is about how people always film concerts these days, but I think that's wrong. I mean, maybe, although the song was written in 2008 when cell phone taping was still a fairly new phenomenon. But I think this line is really a rumination on fame, on feeling like everywhere you look there are cameras in your face, and it's not about concerts, it's about your life. Girls used to follow you around...until you got cold, and you were no longer the current big thing, and then it's lonely there in the spotlight, where no one's having a good time, the hands they wave in the air are all cameras pointed at you, hoping to catch the next mistake, and everything that was supposed to be good and great, all those pretty promises Pete Wentz made back in the summer fest days when you fell asleep on the grass turned into this. You've become something I don't even recognize, and I'm just your mascot, some laughable gimmick everyone makes fun of, and you love the mayhem more than the love that was all around you, you threw all that love away like you didn't even want it, and I will never believe in anything again. Change will come, and nothing good is going to come of that, either, because you don't like things the way they are but you know that changing them isn't going to turn out well, either.

This song is just so much. It's so angrily hiatus. It's such a demonstration of how much they had broken down around each other.

But it's okay. Because on the other side of it, eventually, Patrick takes this same poem and makes it into "Favorite Record," so it turns out all right in the end. Happily ever after (below the waist)

#fall out boy #fob #peterick

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obaex · 2 years ago

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R A F E C A M E R O N

☼ sweet silence summary: rafe manages to say a lot to you without saying anything

☼ better start practicing summary: you see a soft and unexpected side of rafe, leading you both to confess your true feelings about the future ☼ the one that chases you (series) summary: jj makes a decision that will alter the course of your summer, driving you to figure out who you really are and who you really want.

☼ anything but you summary: when sarah and the pogues steal barry’s money, he concocts a plan to take the one thing the oldest cameron loves most to ensure he gets repaid in full.

☼ cross my heart summary: rafe disappears for the day and comes back with a big surprise

☼ see you in my nightmares summary: rafe is forced to make a decision that will alter the course of your future together, but how long can he live with the consequences of his actions?

☼ the three times duke tried to tell you something summary: rafe’s dog duke starts acting differently towards you, clearly trying to tell you something that you and rafe can’t seem to figure out on your own.

☼ untouchable summary: when a fight breaks out at midsummers, an unexpected ally reminds you who you are and whose you are

☼ reading between the lines summary: rafe tries, and fails, to tell you how he feels. or does he?

☼ island breeze + lights down low summary: rafe can't keep his eyes off of you, so he decides to do something about it

☼ (not) my girl summary: if rafe cameron is so sure he doesn't need to be seen with you at midsummers, you are more than happy to oblige (or) the time you drove rafe insane with jealousy.

☼ the blind date summary: your friends set you and rafe up on a blind date, but it doesn't go quite as you'd expected.

☼ the bet summary: two guys have their eye on you and when kiara baits you into a bet, it quickly becomes clear how your night will end.

☼ four (hockey player!ex au) summary: rafe knows he's screwed up, but when he offers you a way to make amends, you can't resist. the catch? he'll have to do the impossible.

part one part two

☼ smartwatch (drabble)

J J M A Y B A N K

☼ dying to tell you summary: after a normal beach day takes an unexpected turn, jj has something he needs to say

☼ stole the show summary: jj steals your attention during a music festival

☼ you, the ocean, and me

part one summary: jj is determined to put a smile on your face during your two week trip to the obx, but what happens when fun turns into something more? part two summary: life is picture perfect until the past comes knocking at your door, unwilling to let you go.

☼ pinch me summary: when you turn 17, your body begins to mirror anything that happens to your soulmate, but with so many marks and bruises, why is yours so hard to find?

☼ a little dirty summary: you find that watching jj work can be very… distracting

☼ lightning love summary: jj comforts you during a thunderstorm… or so you thought

☼ the bet summary: two guys have their eye on you and when kiara baits you into a bet, it quickly becomes clear how your night will end.

☼ you ruined my life (by not being mine) - coming soon! (sneak peek) summary: from the moment jj meets you, he’s determined to hate you, and when he can’t hate you, he’s determined to ignore you, and when that doesn't work and neither does forgetting you, well, what other option is there?

☼ jj comforts you when you're sick

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teddyeyeseddie · 1 year ago

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The Cherrywood Motel

The Man With the Axe

rockstar!Eddie x housekeeper!reader

masterlist

(a/n: lots going on here, I am so sorry. do we hate eddie or do we hate eddie?:( )

warnings: angst, eddie is a player, drugs, alcohol, a sexual encounter, general rockstar lifestyle

tags: @yunnie-f1 @nope-thanks @meganwinchester -@daisyridleyyyy @ostricx - @aysheashea @emilyshortcake @ostricx@bebe07011 @miss-celestial-being @bblunuh @dandelionnfluff @bibieddiesgf @erisdogwood @emxxblog @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e

now playing:

Days passed with little sign of Eddie. He locked himself away and barely peaked his head out of the room, only doing so for the odd pizza delivery. If he was honest with himself, he was wallowing.

He wasn't used to having to chase, most women simply falling in his lap at the snap of his fingers. He wasn’t used to having to prove himself to be worthy. But, to be fair all the women he had in his bed were gone by the next day, the night long forgotten as well as their names.

He knew you weren’t like that, he knew he had his work cut out for him. The drugs, money and fame didn’t impress you the way it impressed people from LA, desperate for any taste of Eddie’s lifestyle. He was always happy to oblige, gifting friends goodie bags of drugs at his parties and even going as far to have a dealer on hand at any and all times when he was back home.

He lived for a party, lived to be in the fast lane. He rode it without his seatbelt on, not fearing the inevitable crash and burn that would launch him into a life of loneliness.

So, that's where he has spent his last few days. He was either coked out, high on pills or smoking weed. Not to mention the excessive drinking that came with the pity party he was throwing himself, fueled by self loathing.

He picks up the rolled bill from the end table, running it through his line as he makes sure to pick up all the remnants with the now crumpled hundred. He groans and throws his head back once he is done, smiling widely when he catches a glance of himself in the mirror, trying to create the face of someone who is actually happy.

He walks towards the mirror, studying his face as he gets closer. He winces when he notices the bags that have formed under his eyes. There is dried puke in his hair from the endless cycle of drinking and hangovers. Hair of the dog, he would tell himself.

He doesn’t recognize who he is, the bright eyed young rock star now aged by endless nights of partying. Sure, he was still as handsome as ever but the festivities he took part in took a toll on his body.

He decides a shower would do him good. He backs away from the bathroom mirror, turning towards the shower in order to turn it on. He lets it warm up for a minute before stepping out of his pajama pants and boxers. He jumps in, letting the water soothe the ache that has settled low in his bones.

He gets out of the shower when he hears commotion coming from outside. He turns off the water, grabbing a towel before quickly drying himself off and slipping back into his pajama pants sans boxers.

He was in a rush to see who was causing all the ruckus, his hair was still dripping wet, droplets of water painting the expanse of his chest and back.

He's shocked to see you standing there, tears in your eyes as a man screams at you.

“I don't care what happened, you are going to buy me a new suit out of your little paycheck and I’m not taking no for an answer,” a man with silver hair screams, he is towering over you, veins popping out in his neck as he becomes more and more irate.

“Hey, hey, hey big man, no need to yell at the girl,”

“She poured bleach all over my suit,”

“Sir, you ran right into me, I tried getting out of the way,”

“I do not want to hear it, I’ll leave my information at the front desk. I expect a replacement by the time I finish my stay,” the man bites, turning towards Eddie who is now towering over him.

“Think you shoulda kept your head up champ,” Eddie retorts, a smirk playing on his face as he crosses his arms over his bare chest, the cool October breeze causing his hair to stand on end.

“Who are you and why are you even inserting yourself into this?” The man squares his shoulders, looking Eddie up and down.

“Kinda concerns me, you’re raggin’ on my sweets,” Eddie shoves the guy with each word, backing him up against a motel room door. He grabs a fistfull of the man’s shirt, his other hand coming to grab his jaw and force him to look at him.

“You’re gonna go about your business now aren’t you?” Eddie’s hand now moves from his jaw to his throat, successfully pinning him against the door.

“Hey! What’s all this?” A man shouts from behind Eddie. He curses to himself when he turns around, a policeman coming over to see what the problem was between the two men.

Eddie ends up in the back of a patrol car, no boxers on and no one to call.

His eyes plead with yours as the cruiser drives away, silently begging you to help him.

You push into the precinct 2 hours later, having to finish your shift before you could go and pick up Eddie. You’d drained your savings knowing it would probably cost a pretty penny to bail him out. You stroll up to the counter, asking for Eddie as you pick at the torn edge of the envelope you’d stuffed the money in.

“Hey sweets, knew you’d come for me,” a voice comes from behind you. You turn to see Eddie waiting for you, a tight t-shirt now adorning his formerly bare torso.

“Like my new digs? Apparently I’m the best junior officer around!” he chuckles and points at the writing on the chest of the shirt.

You hold your tongue when you walk towards him, simply walking past him and out the door. He follows, your silence making his skin crawl. He quietly gets into the passenger seat of your car, his hands resting in his lap as he stays silent.

“You know I could have handled it, Eddie,” you finally break the silence after a few minutes.

“You don’t know what he would have done,”

“Nothing if I would have just bought the guy a new suit! He ran into me sure but I should have had a cap on the bottle,”

“No! He was being a cocksucker and deserved a little roughing up,”

“You were drunk and high Eddie, I don't think you should be the one to decide who needs to be “roughed up” ,” you’re borderline in tears, the idea that Eddie came to your rescue making you feel so many emotions.

“I’m not gonna’ sit there and watch someone rag on you. You of all people,”

“I am not yours to protect, Eddie,” you say, your voice now softer, some of the anger leaving your body as you continue to drive.

Eddie looks over and sees the tears running down your cheeks, the moonlight causing them to glisten as they fall. Eddie thinks you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, even with a red face and a runny nose he still wants to lean across the center console and kiss your tears away.

“M’ sorry,” you simply shake your head, not trusting you voice.

You pull into the motel moments later, parking in between yours and Eddie’s room.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you say to him once you are out of the car.

“Sweets wait,” his hand grabs your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze as he tries to rein you in.

“Just leave me alone, Eddie,” you shrug your arm away from him, retreating to your room and leaving him in the cold.

That night, Eddie wallows some more. He punches the wall after a few drinks, knuckles now swollen as he tries to roll a joint. He indulges in anything and everything before walking outside and to the bar across the street.

He enters rather smoothly despite the plethora of drugs he is on, settling into a chair as he flags down the bartender. He orders a rum and coke, turning towards the dance floor to find his pick of the night. He spots a brown haired woman, dressed in a tight red dress and black heels. Eddie decides she’ll do.

Eddie turns on his flirting, bringing the woman a beverage before slipping his room number in the valley of her breasts before whispering a soft, “You know where to find me,”

She comes like a bee to honey, only waiting a few minutes to exit the bar and head over to Eddie’s room.

It’s hot, heavy and dirty.

She is loud, her moans echoing off the walls and making their way over to your room. You throw a pillow over your face, trying to do anything to drown out the god-awful moans and the pounding in your brain. You toss and turn while you have to listen to Eddie break your heart one more time.

While you sit there fighting back tears, you realize that you have no place to be upset. You aren’t interested in him. He was some rock star that would probably ruin your life with drugs and parties, he wasn’t the man you were meant to be with. But here you are, heart broken and on the verge of sobbing as you listen to Eddie praise the girl between his legs.

“Feel good, sweets?” the nickname rattles in your brain, the tears coming back as he chants her name over and over and over.

Finally they're done, the room now silent as you listen to soft rustling on the other side of the wall. You wait for a minute, waiting for the sound of Eddie’s door opening and closing, signifying that she’s gone. It never comes.

The next morning, you’re up early. The clock reads 6am as you make your way outside and towards your car after getting dressed for the day. You duck into your car as soon as the door to Eddie’s room opens, a woman in a red dress emerging with heels in her hand. Your heart sinks when you see her try to lean up and kiss Eddie. He simply turns his head allowing the kiss to fall upon his cheek instead.

Eddie woke that morning with a jump, forgetting much of last night and the name of the woman in his bed. He nudges her awake, telling her she has to go so he can make it to a meeting.

“Do you have something I can borrow? I’d like to see you again,” She purrs as she snakes her arm up his bare chest, attempting to push him back on the bed for another round.

Eddie shakes his head, pushing her hand away before getting up from his place on the bed and handing her the dress from last night.

“Need ya to get out soon,” he throws the dress in her direction before turning to head to the bathroom. He splashes water on his face, rubbing at his nose to release some of the dry skin that has accumulated there. He dries off his face before returning to the bedroom, the woman now dressed.

“I uh- called a taxi. It will be here soon,” she says. Eddie simply nods before fishing in his wallet for money to cover her fare.

“S’ only fair if I’m kicking you out this early,” she politely takes the money and heads for the door.

That’s when Eddie spots you, watching in the front seat of your car. He turns her head and directs her kiss to his cheek, waving her goodbye before ducking back into the room to avoid you. He couldn’t look you in the eye, not after that. He knew he fucked up bad this time. The first two being minor bumps in the road in his eyes, but this one took the whole fuckin’ cake.

You stay away from the motel all that day, deciding to go and hang out with Christa.

“So he’s gotten high at dinner, threatened a man and had you pick him up from the police precinct, and now he’s fucking random girls? I thought this man was into you not into trying to ruin your life,” Christa says over a glass of wine.

“That’s the thing, I don't know why I care so much. Like he is so bad for me in every way, Christa,” you throw your hands up in the air, a groan escaping your lips as well.

“Just ignore him, he’s just trying to find a little plaything to keep him busy in this little town,” You leave the Eddie talk at that for the night, the conversation naturally flowing to other things that didn't make you upset.

You return back to the motel around 10 that night, pulling into the parking lot to find all the spots by your room were taken. Groaning, you turn your car around and go to the other end of the parking lot, finally finding one. You park your car and make your way to your room, the heavy sound of music flowing from Eddie’s room and into the open air of the night.

You push your way into your room, immediately falling into bed. You kick off your shoes and strip down to your t shirt before attempting to fall asleep.

With the music and chatter that is coming from Eddie’s room, you toss and turn for a few minutes before deciding enough was enough. You’ve lost enough sleep over this man and it ended tonight. You pull on your sweatpants, throwing open your door and trudging past a few people who were seeking refuge in the form of cigs and silence.

You push into Eddie’s room, seeking him out when a girl approaches you.

“Where’s Eddie?” you question, she simply shrugs and smacks her gum as she looks down at you.

“Dunno, but if you find him, tell him we're out of blow,” you roll your eyes, scanning the room to find no trace of Eddie. You notice a line is forming at the bathroom, the person at the door banging on the it as he yells for the person inside to “hurry the fuck up,”

You make your way over to the bathroom, cutting in front of the man before you knock on the door.

“Eddie?” you shout, “Get out here!”

Eddie appears moments later, denim vest on with no shirt. He’s sweaty and flushed, mind foggy as he looks down at you.

“Heya sweets, long time no see,” he sings, hand coming to caress your cheek. You’re quick to bat it away, staring up at him with a scowl on your face.

“Eddie it is 10 o’clock at night, why on earth is your room full of people who look like they’re about to go to a honky tonk,”

“They’re my friends, see this is hic- Marc,” he shouts, pointing at the man who had been pounding on the door moments earlier.

“It’s Matt,”

“Matt, Marc. Who cares,” Eddie laughs as he walks away, he heads towards his end table, groaning when he sees they have run out of coke.

“Eddie, listen to me. These people can’t be here,”

“Again, sweets. Who cares!”

“I do!” you yell at him, hands on our hips as you try to look at least a little bit intimidating.

“S’ cute when you do that,” he points to your hips, smiling widely as he looks back up at you.

The two of you argue back and forth for a while, Eddie inevitably snapping at you in his drunken haze.

“Goodness sweets jus’ get out of here! ” he shoos you away, a man approaching him with a half smoked joint, Eddie indulging as you turn away from him and retreat back to your room.

You sit on the edge of your bed for two whole hours, listening to the beat of the music pulse through your room. You’re about to lay down when a soft knock interrupts the flow of music.

You open your door, surprised to see a barely standing Eddie at your doorstep.

“Sweets, my darling. Can you help me out?”

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