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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

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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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babyjakes · 1 year ago

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flamingo pink.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | pet play

pairing | daddy!ari levinson x puppy!reader

warnings | ddlg and pet play elements (daddy!ari and sort of little? puppy!reader.) brief mentions of ownership; reader wears a collar. unprotected sex- vaginal and anal penetration. mild clit play (mild for me anyway lol.) nipple play for like one (1) second. finger sucking. squirting (and he comes in her ass!) a little bit of crying. teasing. some mocking/humiliation. some dumbification. lots of praise/encouragement. beginnings of aftercare.

word count | 1,006

an | hi sluts, welcome to kinkmas 2023!! i'm so super excited to be running this event, i've already put in a lot of work on these pieces and i'm really hoping you'll all enjoy them <3 as a quick note, if you haven't already, make sure to check out the event masterlist (linked above) to see the list of prompts i'll be writing for this month! i tried to pick mostly new ideas and concepts, hopefully there'll be something to fit everyone's taste!! hope you all like day 1 with big strong daddy!ari and his little baby puppy! also yes there are 1989tv references bc this is MY kinkmas and I MAKE THE RULES hehe :))

Clink clink.

The rattling sound of your custom-fit collar's tiny tag could barely be heard over your and your daddy's mix of heavy breathing. Large hands gripping your ankles, Ari had your legs bent up at an obscene angle as you lay on your back against the soft white bedding below. "Fuck, puppy. Look so pretty, takin' all of me like this. What a good girl," you were melting into the towering man's touch as he brought up a few rough fingers to caress your cheek, warm with wanting.

Ari's gaze traveled over your glistening body, spread out perfectly before him like a feast to be devoured. The glimmering shine of your gold tag caught his eye, eliciting a deep groan from within him as he brought his hand down to gently turn over the small, heart-shaped plate against your neck. "All fuckin' mine," he all but growled as the pads of his fingers traced over the letters that spelled out his initials. It was more than a symbol of love; it carried a heavier weight- ownership.

He rutted up harder into you, his punishing pace drawing tears from your eyes as his gaze settled back on your precious features. "Baby," he murmured, softening slightly at the sight of your tears. "Bein' such a good little pup for me, c'mon- show me you can take it. Are you gonna be good and take Daddy's dick?"

You were gasping as he thrust up against your sweet spot repeatedly, the sensation of him stretching you open causing goosebumps to prickle up along the back of your neck. You shivered, trying to construct an acceptable response. Smiling at the sight of you being fucked stupid, your loving daddy helped you by bringing his hand back up to cup your cheek and jaw, his thumb slipping in between your glossy pink lips as he forced out a nod from you. "Good girl," he crooned as you mindlessly nursed his thick digit, your tongue rolling sloppily around its tip as he tightened his grip on you. "That's it, baby. Just let Daddy do all the thinkin'. Nothin' but a dumb little puppy for Daddy to play with- isn't that right? You're my pretty little puppy?"

You didn't need his help to nod this time, your eyelashes batting so sweetly as his grin spread further across his face. When he slowed the movement of his hips, you were a bit confused as Ari pulled out of you, bringing his hands down to guide the tip of his massive length to trail cruelly over your messy folds. You let out the cutest little whine, your thighs flailing weakly as he bumped himself right up against your puffy button.

"I know baby, I know," your daddy hummed, wanting to draw out his teasing as much as he could force himself to. "Just wanna take my time with you, sweetheart. You're such a pretty little puppy, you know that?" He brought a hungry hand up to paw at one of your breasts as it sat so perfectly beneath the flimsy fuchsia lace he had dressed you up in. Pinching and rolling your hardened nipple through the sheer fabric, he chuckled as you squirmed softly under his touch. "My perfect little pup, so pretty in pink. Makin' it hard for me to control myself, baby. S'hard to be gentle with you when you're this fuckin' cute."

When you felt his smooth tip nudging up against your smaller hole, you let out a squeak in surprise; being the good daddy he was, Ari was quick to reassure you. "Don't worry, pretty girl. Daddy won't make it hurt, just relax..." His fingers collected plenty of your wetness, dragging it down to prep his length for you. "Deep breath, angel. There," he gasped along with you as the head of his member pushed past your tight ring of flesh, the intrusion burning deep in your tummy.

"That's my good girl," Ari kept praising you proudly as he gradually worked you open, only giving you as much as you could handle. One of his thumbs came up to brush over your swollen clit, the pad of his skilled finger tracing circles over the hardened nub as a way to soothe the heat of the stretch. "You gonna be a good little pup and take all of me, princess? Gonna let me ruin this tight little bottom? Fuck-"

"D-Daddy," you mumbled, your gaze growing hazy as the pressure in your tummy expanded. Nearing the brink himself, Ari knew the signs of your impending orgasm like the back of his hand.

"C'mon, puppy. Give it to me." Forehead drenched in sweat, the man furrowed his brow harshly in concentration as he flicked his thumb faster over your aching button. "Come for Daddy, baby. Come for me, shit, that's it-" Like waves colliding, your climaxes both hit at once, glorious and gruesome in the way they made your bodies explode in tandem. As your high squirted out forcefully against the large man's front, his heavy release was shooting up into you, filling you with an indescribable warmth.

Seconds passed that felt like minutes. When your eyes finally fluttered open again, your legs were trembling uselessly off to either side of you as your chest rose and fell sporadically. You felt something leaving you, the harsh tug on your sensitive walls pulling a diminished cry from your hoarse throat.

"Shhh," your daddy's familiar voice soothed, a gentle hand rubbing careful circles on your knee. "I'm here, baby. Daddy's here. You did so well." In an instant, he was collecting you in his arms. He moved you away from the edge of the bed, propping you up against a few pillows as his lips came down to press against your dampened forehead.

"Now you just wait here, sweetheart. Daddy's gonna go get a rag to clean you up. Just close your eyes, baby. There," seeing your exhaustion, he didn't want to make you lift a single finger. "Daddy's here, angel. Daddy'll take care of you."

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resi4skz · 7 months ago

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Title: Breakfast & Pancakes

Pairing: Chan x chubbyReader

Words: ~3k+

Warnings: slight nsfw, slight fluff, kitchen s*x

Placing the last plate on the table and arranged the flowers in the vase, I stand back to review my work. Will she like this? Satisfied, I walk into my room when I'm struck by the beauty sleeping on my bed. God, I want to take this picture and forever carve it in my mind. It had been 6 months into our relationship and last night, I made her mine. Officially anyway.

I take a few steps closer and stop just as she turns in her sleep, exposing her pretty face to me. My eyes travel down to her arm and hand. Smiling, I gently grab it and start drawing small circles on the back of her hand. It makes her stir in her sleep but opens her eyes and gives me a sleepy smile. "Morning."

"Morning baby," I say as I lean down, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Sleep well?"

She nods her head, smiling. "Yes."

"Hungry?"

"Starving."

When she's a bit more awake, I lead her to the dining table. She gasps and blinks at me. "Channie, did you make all this?!"

I chuckled, pinching her cheek. "Yes. Now come. Let's eat."

We eat in peace. But mostly, it was me watching her eat as her eyes sparkled when she saw her favorite breakfast. Pancakes. She told me they were the best pancakes she's had. We talked about our work and friends, you know the usual. And when it came to clean up, she stood up with her hand waving at me as if to dismiss it.

"You cooked. I clean."

Fuck.

I'm absolutely entirely and over the mountains and hills full time fucked.

Each day she gives me a reason to fall for her more and more. I sit back and watch her start to wash the dishes while humming a song.

God. If time were to stop now, I wouldn't even complain.

Standing up, I slowly walk over to her till I'm standing behind her. I give her a look from head to toe, stopping at her mid-riff. I inwardly groan as I make my presence known because she freezes mid-wash and stops singing. "Channie?"

I hum in response as I move closer and change the position of her hair, completely moving to the left side. Next, my lips attach to her shoulder then her neck as I feel her shiver. "You know you're mine, right?" I whisper-ask.

She nods, letting out a whimper.

"Use your words, babygirl."

"Yes."

"Good," I lean over her ear. "You're fucking mine."

"Channie, why do you find me attr- ah!" She yelps when I smack her plump ass cheek.

"Baby, you don't know what you do to me. What these," I grab her ass and squeeze. "What these do to me, fuck, you're perfect."

"But I'm fat."

I stop everything and she whimpers at the loss of my touch. But I place my hands on her hips and buck my hips against her ass, letting her feel the evidence. "This, this is your fault. Feel what you do to me. I'll fuck this, YOU, everyday if I have to so you know you're beautiful."

"Channie," she moans.

"I'll remind you every day and night, that you're the only one that makes me crazy for you," I frantically lower her panties and find her ready for me. "Fuck, baby. You're so good to me."

Then she turns the tap off and turns around. I blink down at her as she jumps, my arms going around her curvy thighs and hips curving around her ass. "Chris."

I groan as I clear off the kitchen island before setting her on top of it. I waste no time as I dive right for her lips. Taking off my sweats, I settle between her legs. Fuck, my cock was hard and leaking. I pepper kiss my way down to her chest when I push in making her silently cry out in pleasure.

That day, I showed her just how much she meant to me, how much her curves made me feral. I couldn't get enough. I don't think I will ever get enough of her. Because she's mine.

"You're mine," I whisper, kissing the back of her head before wrapping my arm around her, spooning her from behind under the blankets as we soon fell into a deep slumber.

A/N: a little drabble but i hope it's okay? Lol enjoy ^_^

#bang chan #christopher bang #stray kids bang chan #chris bang #bang chan fanfic #fanfic #skz #skz fanfic #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #chubby

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uva124 · 9 months ago

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INTRODUCING THE MOST MANIPULATIVE KING IN HISTORY , MAGNIFICO!!! 🎇🎇🎇🎇(I hate him but he deserves a redesign lol).

For those who see this post for the first time, I introduce myself, Hi :D! I'm Aled and this is a collaboration with @ animación , author of the rewrite of Wish that is on her profile (read it, the story it's soooo good) and I am in charge of drawing the redesigns of her story.

Now, coming back to the main thing, I will show how we got to this result :)

FACIAL FEATURES AND HAIR:

-Honestly, I never thought that getting used to drawing Magnifico would be so difficult lmao, how in most of my procedures to make the designs, I start with sketches and studying the structure of the character's face, this was a little difficult because I'm not that I'm used to drawing people over 20, but with a few practices I was able to figure out how to draw him :D

(I also did digital internships, but I didn't save most of them because I forgot lmao)

COLOR PALETTE:

-Don't think that I chose a palette of yellow and gold colors just because I thought it was pretty (well, that's also another reason), what happened is that when I was searching through conceptual arts, I found some designs by Magnifico where They used a blue and yellow color palette

I did a quick search and found this:

-Tell me this doesn't remind you of Magnifico, then yes, that's why I chose a yellow color palette, also adding a golden tone to give it a royal vibe.

-I also applied this in the design of Queen Amaya, in the publication of her design I explained why I added details of a dark blue color in her costume and Magnifico's costumes

ATTIRE:

-From the beginning I always wanted to modify Magnifico's cape by adding a rose as a brooch, and searching through the conceptual arts I found quite a few interesting models, so it can be said that I combined everything I liked and that's how I got the cape for Magnifico, Also adding other details that occurred to me.

-The author sent me several ideas for Magnifico (thank you by the way :D), one of them was associating Magnifico with the sun, I really liked the idea and that is why there are so many symbols of the sun in his suit, plus these It reminded me how in so many cultures the Sun is worshiped, just as the kingdom of roses worships Magnifico, there are also other reasons why the sun fits with Magnifico but I already mentioned that in the publication of Amaya's redesign.

-The truth is, I only drew the other details improvised, this time I just got carried away, but hey! The outfit didn't look bad at all :)

-Another important part of Magnifico's costume is the "M" on his badge, but in fact it is not an M 😅, it is the sign of Scorpio ♏, this idea was from Anny Mation

-So yeah, I had to add the Scorpio symbol yes or yes, at first I thought about adding it to the back of the cape but I wasn't convinced by the idea, but then I thought: "Wait, why don't I add the sign on the gold plate ? that would look elegant."

FINAL COMMENTS:

-I'm proud of how this turned out, I feel like it does justice to a villain that commemorates 100 years of Disney :)

-Also, I think that those who have already seen the other redesigns know which character is next, right 👀✨? For Aster, I don't know how long it will take me to draw him, since the boy is literally a walking animation studio lmao.

That would be all for now, until next time :D!

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qalijahbydior · 10 months ago

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Mirrors — Tom Blyth x Actress!reader

a/n: happy birthday to the internet's boyfriend!! LOL HE'S 29 already I FEEL SO YOUNG 😔🤌 anyway i decided to write since i had to post something while my story is still being written. newayz enjoy reading!

warnings : none just pure fluff

Tom has been in love with you the moment he heard you speak, it might be not the softest tone or soothing but there's something that draws him into you. He finds you pretty, hilarious, oddly funny and you give off that 'sunshine energy' He feels giddy when talking to you and do you feel the same thing? You do. You just love it when he laughs to your stories and hype your jokes especially when he listens to you. You two have always been teasing each other and that's what makes your friendship go on.

"Tom, come here! Look what I've found!" You say as you carry the ginger kitten and pat it. He came running to you and was already planning to touch the cat but you pulled it away. "Let me guess, you want to adopt it right?" he said, crossing his arms and tilted his head to the side. "Of course I do but the owner of my apartment specifically said no pets." You frowned at the thought of it. You really wanted to adopt the cat even if you just met him. Tom looked at you, scrutinizing your reaction. He then took the cat and rubbed its throat.

"You adopt it but it goes home to me, how does that sound?" He looked at you and the cat lovingly, his words made your face lit up and squeal at excitement. Him volunteering for the cat to live in his house meant having you over so he thought it was a good idea. "What, really? Are you serious?" you say as your eyes fluttered. You didn't think that he'd also like to take care of the cat that you were holding. "Yeah besides I feel like my house can use a pet since I don't have one." He shrugged, still petting the cat. You clung to his arms and hugged it "Yay! I now have a cat!" you squealed again then he looked at you, smiling.

she's so cute i can adopt a lot of cats if her reaction will be like this everytime he thought to himself

"But, I will name him. That's the condition, alright?" his tone was teasing because he knows that you already have a name for the cat. And you gladly let him name the cat, you nodded. "Alright, you name him." and just by a snap of a finger he already has a name for the cat. "His name is Miku, cute right?" he turned to you then smiled.

if loving this cat means getting even closer to you then i will love him and cherish him because he'll always remind me of you he thought as he was looking at your face, like it was illuminating and he loved it.

As for you, you thought that he's so kind to even offer the cat that you were adopting a roof to live in. Tom has always been nice to you and everything you love, you do, and you liked he liked it all too. As if he's now mirroring you. Everything he does is now a reflection of you.

"Nice choice, it is cute." you thought the name was cute but it had a hidden meaning and he knows. Miku is a japanese name and it means 'beautiful sky' it's name matches the way he looks at you. You're the sunshine and now the cat is the beautiful sky.

"I'll put the cat on my dressing room." you gently tried to get the cat from him but he refuses. "Nuuh, I'll hold him for a while. I'm the Dad after all." he said, a smirk creeping on his face. You furrowed your eyebrows and scrunched your nose as a reaction. "Let me hold him, you get to take him home later." you still tried to get Miku for him but he doesn't budge.

"No, I'll hold him first so he can get used to me." he's still pulling the cat away from you and tou seem to figure out a good way to deal with this and it's by distracting him. "Wait, let's buy something for him real quick. There's a pet shop five blocks away from here. We'll be quick we just need to buy uhhh a collar, wet food for kittens and his very own plate." You smiled as you pat Miku.

You and Tom, both carrying the kitten in your arms, went to the pet shop five blocks from your set. You had come to buy everything the kitten needed, and despite some hesitation by the shopkeeper - who warned you this was a lot of responsibility - you were confident that you could do it. The kitten meowed softly as it was carried away from the safety of his littermates and the familiar surroundings of the pet shop, clearly a bit anxious and unsure of what was to come next.

You and Tom carry the kitten back to the set. The kitten is a bit fussy and wants to explore everything, but eventually settles down in Tom's arms. As the kitten falls asleep, you can't help but marvel at just how cute and adorable it is. You have to admit that the pet shop was right, cats are a lot of work. But it's so worth it when the kitten is snuggled up against your chest, purring softly. It makes all the work feel worth it. You took your phone then took a picture of you, Tom and Miku.

you two will make such good cat parents and you know it.

You're now sitting at Tom's couch, inside his house as you insisted that you come and feed Miku. This day went on so fast a while ago you're contemplating whether to get Miku or just leave him there but you now have him! Tom is also loving Miku as the cat always clings onto him and purrs on his touch. You asked him if you can stay at his house for a while before you go home and he agreed.

"You know what it's starting to look like you're Miku's owner and not me but either way, it seems like he really likes you." you crossed your legs and picked Miku up to put him on your lap and pet him. "We're his owner, babe. Chill. Besides I used to have a cat that's why he seemed to like me." his words warmed your heart and did he just call you babe...? The thought of the two of you owning a cat is so cute and it just fuels your feelings towards him even more.

"Thank you, really, Tom. I appreciate this so much. I love that you also love Miku." you smiled at him as he was setting up Miku's bed. "Anything for you, pretty girl." He looks at you with love in his eyes, and the butterflies on your stomach felt like they're going to explode. You felt blood rushing through your face, feeling flustered. You just bit your lower lip, stopping yourself from smiling and continued to pet Miku.

Tom has always been like this, he compliments you at the most unexpected moments and it just gets you all red and flustered. You love his compliments and he loves giving it to you. He likes seeing you smile, laugh and jolly because seeing you happy makes him happy too. Your enthusiasm is like a virus once he gets to you. And you also love making him happy, that man's happiness is just simple. You don't know how you make him happy but you just do anything anyway.

Your friendship with him has been a rollercoaster ride, it gets crazy the more that it lasts. You wanted to tell him how you feel towards him but It also scared you, the thought of losing your friendship just because of your feelings towards him scared you.

You always fought the urge to tell him how you felt, so instead of telling him you just express it. Physical touch, words of affirmation and acts of service has always been your love language. You liked being near him, you liked clinging onto him like he's going to disappear anytime.

He now sat down beside you and just looked at you as you were playing with Miku. "Y/N" he called and you turned to him, smiling. "Yeah?" his expression softened as he spoke once again. He looked like he was in deep thought before he spoke. "How come you're not dating anyone? I've never seen you go around and date someone?" he asked, he always thought of that but if ever that you really did it would hurt. Just the thought of you dating another guy that isn't him is already piercing his heart.

"I'm not interested. That's it, I'm not looking for anything because I've already got what I need. I can never ask for more." and that's how you really felt through out your friendship with him. You know that he probably doesn't think of your friendship like you two were tied to each other but it always felt that way.

"But do you like someone right now or I don't know, used to like someone?" he knows that this question might be a risk but he still asked it, desperate for an answer. Like his whole feelings depended on it. You didn't know how to answer the question because you were afraid that he might think that he's the one you're talking about. But you're going to make the most out of it

"Well, there's this friend of mine. He really makes me happy. What's for sure is I like him but I can never tell him what I feel. What if my growing feelings ruin our friendship? I enjoy what we have. I feel like I'm already tied to him but not in a bad way, you get me? This friend has been there for me since we met, and lately I've been feeling that I'm seeing myself through him. Not in a selfish way." you explained and that got him thinking of the things that he's done to you or with you these days, trying to connect the dots and see if it would make sense.

And now, it did make sense. He just now realized that he's mirroring you, too. You two are the reflections of each other

"Y/N, it's me isn't it?" he asked, wanting to confirm his thoughts. You looked down and nodded. He was so happy that It was him and you felt the same. He put Miku aside and held both of your hands, he made you face him. His ocean blue eyes looking at you.

"You know why I stuck with you the moment we met? There's like an invisible force pulling me towards you. Your smile, your laugh, your funny antics had got me. It's just so addicting that I found myself always crawling towards you. You're like a ray of sunshine that wherever you go you lighten up everything." he removed his other hand from your grip and caressed the side of your face, and you finding comfort in it. His words made your heart melt even more. You loved him the same as he's the reason why you laugh and smile.

"I never knew that you saw me like that. I now know why you always tease me and make me laugh. To be honest I feel the same, there's a missing part of me whenever you're away from me even just feets away. There's something lacking when you're not there making me laugh and it has been a routine ever since. Your presence and existence completes me." you gave him a sweet smile then looked down at your hands intertwined.

The butterflies on your stomach felt crazy. His hands holding you, his ocean blue eyes fixated on you and love just filling the room felt right and perfect. He looks at you the way he always looks at you all the time, eyes full of admiration and love. You've always tried to shake off that thought when he looks at you thinking that you're just mistaken or seeing things but now it's all clear. He loves you, likes you, adores you like you're the only thing that's meant to be adored.

And you also tried to hide that look in your eyes but now that got you thinking, did he always see right through me?

The moment feels euphoric for Tom, and he can't contain his excitement as he shares his true feelings with you. He has waited for this moment for so long, and finally, it's here. Tom confesses his love for you, and you can sense the genuine and pure emotion behind his words. Seeing your reaction, he feels beyond happy and satisfied that you now know how he feels. He feels like he has accomplished something special, and the sight of your face only makes the whole experience even sweeter.

The vacancy that sat in my heart, is a space that now you hold.

#Spotify #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #billy the kid #tbosas #happy birthday tom blyth

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quimichi · 6 months ago

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Hi, I was hoping I could get a genshin and HSR match up if they're still open? I use she/her pronouns, and I have a romantic preference for men. I'm a big time introvert and not one for small talk but I always try to be polite and kind. I've been described as being too sensible by multiple people but I will also laugh at some of the dumbest stuff. My hobbies include writing, drawing and cooking, generally I like anything creative. I hope this is okay and that you have a lovely day!

A/n: I really hope you like my answer! I just thought that someone who can understand and appreciate you would fit so much more better than the opposite ♡

FREMINET

@ awww look at those two introverts in love ♡

@ understands you all to well. You want your peace and quite? He'll leave you to yourself and lets you draw, take a nap, read or whatever.

@ greatly appreciates if you'd do the same, but only really rarely. He does enjoy your company a lot! You bring him internal peace. Just having you sit beside him while he works on a new project really gives him motivation.

@ psst, he wants to show off, just a little ;)

@ takes you diving with him! I hope you're not scared of the ocean tho- if you are, he'll guide you through it. He never lets go of your hand, even if it means that he will have a constant blush on his face and butterflys in his tummy. If you really are way, WAY to scared tho, he would obviously never force you. You two just walk by the shore collecting some seashells!

@ and if you love/like the ocean, he would shyly ask you if you wanna join him. Like everytime he would ask you. Or at least if you wanna wait for him by the shore.

@ LOVES LOVES LOVES to see your drawings, if you wanna show them that is. He can also draw yk, so someone who shares the same talent would also mean for him to share his supplies. Dw, take them without asking, it's a relationship after all.

@ and if you want you can make designs for his toy projects for the kids!

@ Is just as sensitive as you, maybe more, maybe less. But what is definitely a fact, is that he will comfort you nonetheless. Depends on how you wanna be comforted tho. Bit i think his style would be, have a cup of tea and let it aaaall out. Vent on him, he can listen well.

@ the twins think you two were meant to be-! Really supportive of you two.@ And Father is just as happy, she can't show it, but you're part of the family now sooo...you better not hurt her boy :)

DAN HENG

@ well--if you love writing, you're prefect with dan heng cause he loves reading-

@ would understand if you don't want him to read your written pieces, but would feel very honored if you would show him. Even just a glimpse would get him to praise you.

@ if you do show him--damn he would unintentionally correct your grammar or phrasing. Not that he shits on your grammar, its just-idk how to describe it he means it really nice but in dan heng style it comes off more as cold

@ and the corrections of your phrasings are just ideas on how to change things or make it more interesting. He probably read more books than the whole astral express crew together, like easily.

@ thats why he would get it if you don't wanna show him---he's aware lol

@ BUT! what he would do 100% and nobody can stop him, is reading to you ♡

@ lay in his arms and relax. Let his soothing voice lull you to sleep~ And if you wanna read on your own, do that, he'll wait for you to turn the page.

@ would also 100% discuss what you two read afterwards lol. Like a lil bookclub

@ he can actually cook, very well too. But he always says his skills are nowhere near yours, even if you deny it, he stands his point.

@ gracefully DEVOURS your food and asks for a second plate ♡

@ oh look, someone who also hates small take, yay. You two were so awkward at the beginning of the whole relationship. The beginning of the whole meeting each other for the first time too!

@ it was definitely him who took all the first steps. Even more awkward cause....he only knows the most things form books cause he has no real life experience-

@ made the mistake of asking March-the things he went through just for you-you better be greatful (jkjk)

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #quimichi #match up #genshin impact x reader #freminet x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng #freminet

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mintseung · 5 months ago

Text

Give it a try (L.H.S) - TEASER

pairing :brothers best friend!Lee heeseung x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff (based on a C-drama, hidden love)

Warnings: 4yr. Age gap and more (will mention once I posted the complete ver.)

teaser wc : 2316

release date : Not yet sure

💌: Feel free to ask to be in the taglist!

"Park Yn!" The teacher Screamed.

"This is the 5th time you've been distracted in class!" This is math class, not art class! You'd better stop making those drawings. Now, answer this," he said, pointing to the question written on the board.

"Letter A, sir," you replied quickly, causing your teacher's jaw to drop.

"I want your parents to come to my office tomorrow after class. Class dismissed," he said and left the classroom.

While students were leaving the classroom, you were there banging your head on your school desk and whining.

"Lol, this is the 3rd time your parents will come," your friend Aliyah laughed at you. "Why would he want my parents?! I've literally answered the question correctly," you complained.

"I guess you should stop being distracted in class so Mr. Yao won't yap about it to your parents." Aliyah said while walking out of the school. "I guess so too, I don't wanna get beaten by my mom" You said.

While walking, an idea struck you suddenly, causing you to halt in your tracks and reach for your phone. Aliyah, a few steps ahead, turned around curiously. "Hey, Y/n, why did you stop?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she waited for your response.

"I've figured out a way to make sure my parents don't end up meeting Mr. Yao," you said with a hint of satisfaction in your voice.

"How exactly?" Aliyah inquired, her curiosity piqued. "I'll just conveniently leave out the details," you replied. giving her a knowing look. Aliyah chuckled. "You know Mr. Yao could easily message or call them, right?"

You smirked. "Who said they're definitely going to get involved? I'll just give my brother a call," you said, showing her your phone screen.

As you walked along, you casually reached into your pocket and began texting your brother on your phone.

"Smelly Bulldog"

You: are you coming home? Mom and dad misses you!

Smelly Bulldog: no

"Tsk," you muttered under your breath. When you reached home, you headed straight to the kitchen and found your mom cutting fruits. "Hey mom, I'm home," you said, grabbing a slice of watermelon onto a plate.

"Here, take this and give it to your brother," she instructed, handing you a plate piled high with sliced watermelon. "He's home?!" you exclaimed with joy, eagerly snatching the plate from her and bounding up the stairs to find him.

You walked into your brother's room and saw a man with his back to you. A few seconds later, he turned around, and the sunlight illuminated his face as he smiled at you. You were stunned and struggled to speak.

"God, is he a fallen angel or something?" you thought to yourself. "J-jay, did you have plastic surgery?" you managed to ask, looking at him with surprise.

To be continued.

#enhypen #heeseung x yn #heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #heeseung enha #heeseung x you #teaser #enhypen fluff #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung lee #enhypen teaser

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shepherds-of-haven · 1 year ago

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Okay I saw this asked on another blog and it was hilarious so I have to ask here : what do you think inner circle’s Beige Flags are? ( weird/quirky or questionable things they do that give you pause but overall have no real effect on the relationship)

Also hope you are feeling better!! 🩵🩵

Ooh, this is a fun one haha! (And I'm feeling a bit better, thank you! I still haven't fully recovered, but getting there slowly but surely! 🥲) Anyway, let me think...

Blade: rather than accompany you into shops (especially small ones), he assumes you want to be left alone to do your shopping in peace (and also typically finds shopping boring) and will instead just stand outside the door, looming like a really intimidating security guard or bouncer. (He is assessing street security, guarding the only door, and positioning himself within shouting distance in case there's some kind of threat.) This often inadvertently drives away business, so sometimes he'll just wait at the end of the street instead, staring out at the crowd like a member of your own personal secret service

Trouble: sometimes he eats too fast, or more accurately talks too fast while eating, leading to frequent inhalation down the wrong pipe and people having to thump him on the back while he coughs. Sometimes he will power through the coughing by sheer force of will and will just... forcefully swallow through it. He refuses to slow down. Life's too short to try to avoid death by choking

Tallys: doesn't make a ton of affirming noises to let you know that she's listening. A lot of people go "uh-huh" or "wow" or "right" or whatever when you're in the midst of telling a long-winded story. She just stares at you patiently in silence until she's sure you're fully done. This is polite in Elven culture, and she is completely listening, but it can unnerve people who feel pressured by silence lol

Shery: she still has to look at her hands to tell left from right. Like sometimes she has to make her left hand form the L to remember 😅 She also finds it difficult to do math in her head and either has to sketch it out in the air or write it down!

Riel: always leaves a bite or two of food left on his plate; rarely completely cleans his plate. Same with drinks! So many teacups that always have a few sips left at the bottom. Why didn't you just drain it, man? It's like he does it on purpose!

Chase: always takes the most meandering, inefficient way to get to a place. like if the walk from A to B is a straight line down one avenue, he always seems to take the most roundabout, random path. Here, I'll draw you a map:

Red: he is very bad at matching the pace of his walking with others; with those long legs, he walks at a naturally and totally subconscious fast pace! He's mindful about it when on a date or actively courting someone, but when he's focused on something else, excited, traveling, or out and about with friends, he has to frequently be asked to shorten the length of his strides so others can keep up lol

Ayla: I've mentioned this one for her before, but she's very bad about sharing her food. She hates when you snatch a fry off her plate without asking, and even if you do ask, she can be fairly begrudging about it if she perceives food is plentiful (like "why can't you get your own, the line is right there?") In work circumstances, like sharing group rations, she's totally fine, but in restaurants or in the refectory, she's annoyed by it, like "I loaded this plate for myself and planned on eating all of it... myself 😒 If you wanted to share something, you should have said so earlier!"

Briony: she's constantly whipping people in the face with her ponytail. She tends to turn her head really fast or spin around in conversation and whoever's standing near her ends up with a mouthful of hair. She hasn't learned to not smack people in the eye with her hair yet despite several remonstrations

Lavinet: frankly shocked, upset, and scandalized whenever there isn't a little something sweet at the end of a meal. it doesn't have to be a full-on dessert--even a single chocolate served on a plate would do, and is often preferred! but when there's nothing?? nary a profiterole or cream puff or a little sweet treat for the lady in sight?? something is off!! her palette isn't satisfied!!

Halek: he always wakes up in the morning so loudly. unfold from the bed -> crack his back, neck, shoulders with the most ungodly series of pops -> loud groan. It sounds like an old accordion getting stretched out

#Shepherds of Haven #beige flags #silly #all characters

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sunspearesque · 9 months ago

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Nectar

Summary: by the Old Gods and the New, there exists no greater solace than the taste of one's lover following a wearisome day.

A/N: happy happy love day lovergals, boys, gays, and theys :D this is the first smutty smut i’m sharing with you as a treat for v-day and i’m so excited for y’all to read it :3 the idea for this smut dawned on me at work and lingered in my mind like a nagging ghost for a whole damned week ‘til i finally wrote it down lol !!! big thank u to my bestie @palioom for beta-ing <3

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Rating: E (18+ only)

Content: established relationship (marriage); needy!Oberyn; food imitating blood; Wet and Wanting™️; teasing; vaginal fingering; finger sucking; i’m obsessed with his hands and so is she; size kink if you squint; pet names; this man loves to bite, smh; cum eating; a hint of soft!Oberyn

WC: 2.3K

Read on AO3 • moodboard

As night descended upon Dorne, the warmth of the day waned, yielding to the crisp coolness of the evening. Over the past few moons, Oberyn had established a new ritual, one that brought him solace.

Each evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he retreated to the balcony of their bedchamber, embracing it as a sanctuary. There, he would lounge upon a sumptuous, crimson velvet seat, his eyes fixed upon the vast expanse of the sea unfolding before him—a serene realm of water that seemed to murmur long-held secrets of bygone eras.

This balcony, the largest in the castle, served as a haven of intimacy for Oberyn and Nala. At its center, the aforementioned seat beckoned like a welcoming embrace, bearing witness to the couple's cherished moments. Every night, the chair cradled their forms, offering respite from the day's pressures, while an adjacent table held their favored fruits and wine, a testament to their shared evenings of leisure.

As the hours passed and the weight of council meetings bore down on Oberyn, he would return to their bedchamber, seeking the comfort of her company. There, he would find her already ensconced in the plush chair, her demeanor one of patient anticipation. She was a vision of allure, her raven tresses undulating and cascading down her back as she wore a black chiffon robe. Its fabric was transparent enough to reveal the contours of her body, teasing at the hardened peaks of her breasts and the curve of her ass beneath. Loosely tied at her waist, the robe boasted an open front, offering a drawing view of her cleavage, while its long, wide sleeves added an air of elegance to her form.

As Oberyn drew nearer to the balcony, the lilting melody of her humming reached his ears, and a warm smile crept across his face. There she sat, perched at the edge of the chair, engrossed in the simple task of peeling a pomegranate. The fruit's juices dripped from her hands onto a nearby plate, mirroring the vivid hue of blood beneath the moon's light.

She turned to face him as his presence enveloped the balcony, her eyes alight with warmth and affection. "Greetings," she whispered, a gentle smile gracing her lips as she continued to peel the fruit. His smile mirrored hers, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a display of genuine fondness.

"Greetings, my love," he responded in kind, as he lingered against the balcony wall.

“How did your meetings fare?" she inquired, her attention momentarily on the fruit she was deftly peeling.

"Dull," he admitted with a light chuckle. "I've missed you."

She glanced up at him with a teasing pout, her dark eyes softened. "Oh, my dear husband, ever so eager," she pitied playfully, inclining her head to beckon him closer. "Join me."

With a graceful and somewhat devilish smirk, he accepted her invitation, moving silently to sit behind her. He draped his legs on either side of her, encircling her waist with his arms as he rested his chin on her shoulder, their eyes focused on the fruit she continued to peel.

His lips graced her neck with slow, tender kisses. "I've missed your smell, my sweet girl," he murmured between each caress.

Nala chuckled softly at his words, a warm sensation of desire stirring within her. "I love it when you get this eager for me."

"I'm always this eager for you," he confessed, his breath sending shivers down her spine. His lips found her earlobe, and he sucked gently, coaxing a soft moan from her parted lips.

Her hands still held the pomegranate, its juices slowly staining her fingers. He took her right hand in his, his grip encompassing hers as he lifted it to his face. "I’ve never craved blood as much as I crave it now on your fingers," he confessed. He took her thumb into his mouth, sucking the sweet pomegranate juice clean from her digit. He repeated the sensuous act for each of her fingers on her right hand before moving on to her left. Nala's thighs squeezed together involuntarily as she felt the teasing warmth of his tongue on her fingers, a primal ache building between her thighs. He noticed that, and a quiet chuckle escaped his lips.

Relishing in the intoxicating closeness they shared, he shifted to rest his back against the plush chair. Spreading his legs, he created a welcoming space for her. She moved with grace and settled between his legs, her back pressed to his firm chest. She let out a contented hum, reveling in the sensation of his warm embrace.

His wandering hand traced a path down the light fabric of her robe, slipping beneath the material to cup the tender swell of her breast. He squeezed it gently at first, eliciting a soft gasp from her, before his calloused fingers danced over her hardened nipple.

"Oberyn..." Her voice quivered with pleasure as she closed her eyes, savoring the delicious sensation of his touch, a craving that had consumed her throughout the day.

His voice, laced with desire, broke through the silence of the night. "Why are you wearing this robe?" he asked, hoarsely. He squeezed her breast a bit harder, urging her to answer.

"For you, my love," she breathed, her voice now shaky. "I’m aware it's your favored one."

A deep groan escaped him as he lowered himself down, his strong fingers turning her face to meet his. Their lips crashed together in a passionate, fervent kiss. Oberyn's tongue delved into her mouth, savoring the mingling flavors of wine and pomegranate.

"You wore it for me, my love?" he murmured against her lips, the intensity of his kiss unwavering. "Do you long for me to stretch this sweet little cunt of yours?"

Her moans were muffled as he continued to kiss her with unbridled ardor.

He reluctantly parted from her, allowing her to catch her breath. "Please, my prince," she whined, her lips now blushed and swollen from his relentless ministrations.

"Who's eager now?" he teased, a devilish smile playing on his lips. His hand began to creep down the fabric of her robe, and her thighs instinctively parted, welcoming his touch.

Beneath the fabric, her skin felt warm and inviting, quivering as his rough, calloused fingers delicately traced her inner thighs. He sought to drown in her essence, to immerse himself in her body and her very being.

"My love..." she whispered, her fingers extending to circle his wrist and guide his hand to the heated core between her thighs. He cupped her mound with his right hand, his touch sending waves of desire coursing through her.

Leaning slightly toward her, he brought his lips closer to her neck, which she had willingly tilted back to rest upon his shoulder, offering him greater access. He rewarded her obedience with gentle bites to her neck, a quiet hum escaping his lips. He followed with open-mouthed kisses, tracing a path over the reddened bite marks with slow, deliberate sensuality.

She writhed between his legs, his towering presence engulfing her in his embrace. His shoulders, broad and formidable like a fortress, held her securely from behind, anchoring her in place. His hands, enormous and veined. His veins seemed to grow even more pronounced when he was impassioned or fervent—an occurrence not so infrequent. Yet, even amidst the intensity, his fingers, though calloused from years of training and combat, possessed a gentle touch as if she were a precious gem, and indeed, she was his most cherished gem.

His voice, normally hoarse and commanding as befitting a prince, now softened into a gentle coo reserved only for her. His sharp, dagger-like gaze, which could pierce through steel, melted into a tender look whenever he directed it at her. This shift in his demeanor and temperament had the power to dissolve her resistance, causing her to surrender the control she had always been hesitant to yield to anyone, not even to herself, until she met him.

He smelled like home, like the earth, or burnt wood or warm amber; that enveloped her like a comforting embrace. His scent permeated everything around her—their shared bed, their wardrobe, and the very air their child breathed. His scent was a reassuring familiarity, and the familiar was always a welcome comfort. She adored the moments when she started to smell like him whenever he was through with her, smelling like his skin, his sweat, and his cum; a fragrant reminder of his presence that stubbornly marked her mind, her heart, her skin, and her cunt.

His touch grew firmer on her mound, coaxing a moan from her as he felt her thighs quiver between his legs. Wetness pooled on his palm, a testament to her desire surging with each passing moment. His voice, low and sultry, brushed against her ear like a warm breeze, sending shivers down her spine. "She's weeping, my love," he whispered, his breath hot against her shell, "Open your eyes, Nala, look at her." With a subtle lift of his hand, he showcased his glistening palm, soaked in her slick, illuminated by the pale moonlight. She obeyed, her eyes fluttering open for a fleeting second before lazily turning her gaze towards his ear nestled behind her. "That's what your love does to her," she whispered, "She's aching, my prince." Her words dissolved into a whine that elicited a guttural groan from him. His grip on her jaw tightened, his fingers wrapping around the back of her neck, as he claimed her lips once more, kissing her with a consuming hunger that devoured her moans and left her panting when he finally released her.

His hand continued its sensual caress back on her cunt, tracing the contours of her wet folds with serpentine grace, massaging every ridge of her sex. His fingers moved with purpose, gliding up and down, feeling her clench around nothing each time he hovered dangerously close to her entrance. Veering away from her sensitive clit, a deliberate tease that left her trembling and yearning for more. Tears welled in her eyes as the unbearable ache intensified, her face nuzzling into the comforting crook of his neck as she stifled pathetic whines, murmuring pleas that spilled like a desperate prayer.

"Oh, I know, my sweet girl," he cooed, his lips brushing tenderly against her temple. His fingers continued to work their magic, gently parting her soaked folds, feeling the pool of wetness growing obscenely larger. His voice, muffled by the curtain of her hair, reached her ears as he asked, "What do you want, Nala? Speak to me."

"The teasing, my prince… It pains me," she whimpered.

He pressed a single finger against her hungry hole, a featherlight motion that allowed him to feel the eager embrace of her cunt, drawing him in deeper and deeper. Adding a second finger, he relished in the sound of her gasps and felt the grip of her fingers on his trousers, her nails digging into his thighs with a delightful sting. Her hands marked him as hers, forever claimed by her touch.

"Obery—" her voice began, but it was swiftly overtaken by a strained moan as his thumb finally found her throbbing clit.

Finally, finally, by the Seven, Oberyn.

Her eyes squeezed shut again, and her lips parted as she threw her head back onto his shoulder, her body instinctively spreading her thighs wider, a silent plea for more, an insatiable need that begged to be sated.

His thumb began to draw slow, lazy circles on her clit, all the while continuing his gentle pumping of his digits into her, starting to hear the sultry squelch of her slick.

"I will never tire of hearing your sweet moans when I stretch you," he breathed into her ear. "Do you find pleasure when I stretch you, hm? When I fill you up with my hands, my cock, and my seed?" he purred the question, his skilled ministrations unabating.

Her response was a chorus of "Yes, yes, yes," echoing in her mind and heart, the words unspoken but fervently felt.

He brought his other hand up toward her face, and she eagerly took his thumb into her mouth, sucking on it with a moan. Her lips created a seductive rhythm that mirrored the movements of his fingers between her thighs. Her body tightened around his intruding digits, a sign that her orgasm was approaching. He quickened his pace, adding a third finger and intensifying the circle he traced around her clit, driving her closer to ecstasy with every movement.

"Give it to me, princess," he growled through clenched teeth, the urgency in his voice matching the pace of his fingers. "Give your prince your sweet cum. I want it, I want to taste it, to drink it… Make me drunk on you."

Her grip on his thighs tightened to the brink of pain, and she began to tremble uncontrollably between his legs. Her release washed over her in waves as she came, crying out his name over and over again.

Withdrawing his hand from her throbbing cunt, he bent her forward, away from his chest, until she rested on her stomach, her hips raised and her lush ass presented invitingly to him. From behind, he eagerly lapped up every drop of her cum, his tongue caressing her soaked folds and trailing sensually to her tight, puckered ring of muscles. He drank greedily, savoring the taste of her release as she mumbled incoherently beneath him.

He pulled her back into his chest and turned her within his lap, pressing her chest against his, his rough hand tenderly cradling the back of her head as he peppered her cheeks and temples with sweet kisses. She melted limply in his arms, and he whispered, "I will always be eager for you," as she hummed contentedly against him.

#asoiaf #oberyn martell fanfiction #a song of ice and fire #pedrostories #oberyn martell #game of thrones #oberyn nymeros martell #oberyn martell x ofc #oberyn martell smut #house martell #dorne #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #valentines day #aura’s fics

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voxmortuus · 1 year ago

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hello!! I'm the one who asked Hannibal x fem!reader where she is married to Frederick Chilton. Don't worry, and I'm sorry I didn't specify very well. My bad.

What I wanted to get to was something like this: Hannibal has one of her dinners with Frederick, where he also finds out that he has a wife and tells him to bring her to dinner. Is where he meets Y/N who is kind, caring and just amazing, yet very different from frederick, then he finds out she works at a hospital and starts stalking her until he kidnaps her? She also has a little crush on him more like she finds him attractive, but still she loves her husband.

it's a bit dark but i've started reading dark romance and i liked it lol

it can contain smut, fluff, angst or whatever you want. Thank you and im sorry again.

►PAIRING: Hannibal X F!Reader Brief appearance in beginning from Fredrick. ►UNIVERSE: Hannibal ►WORDS: 1.6k ►SUMMARY/PROMPT: See Above. ►TRIGGER WARNINGS: Abducted reader | Dub-Con | Forced Intercourse | Vaginal Penetration | Internal Ejaculation | Restraint of Reader | Impure thoughts of another while with husband | I may be missing some, but you get a general idea, so please proceed with caution if there is anything in there that is overly triggering please let me know politely and I will make sure it is added to the list. ►NOTE: Hannibal and Hannibal Character requests are closed. All other requests are open. Sorry if this isn't what you expected, or had envisioned yourself, I apologize. But I hope you enjoyed my vision. I also apologize that this was in my drafts for a while. I hope this finds you well Nonnie. ►IMAGE & DIVIDER CREDIT: @nyxvuxoa ►IN STORY DIVIDER CREDIT: @firefly-graphics ►My Master Masterlist | Hannibal Masterlist

Sitting in Hannibal's dining room, you look over your husband sitting across from you. You smile softly as he speaks. Always a talker that one. Full of himself, but you just let him talk. Watching him a moment, you look over at Hannibal and observe him a moment. Tilting your head, watching the way his lips move as he spoke, the way his face held slight expressions, and the way he ate his dinner. It was as if watching the finest masterpiece in motion.

You shake your head from your thoughts a moment and look down at your dinner and you smile, taking a bite from it you draw in a small breath.

"Fredrick, you never told me about your wife." Hannibal points out with a small smile looking over you a moment.

"I could of sworn I have." He pointed out.

"I think I would have remembered such a conversation, and there was none regarding this lovely creature." He complimented.

You blush. "Fred is just very much involved in his work. Sometimes he hardly remembers we work in the same place." you chuckle.

"How can I forget about that love? After all you bring me my lunch when it's that time." He chuckled.

The thoughts about Fredrick's brain matter being cooked for Hannibal's next meal crossed his mind while on your mind thoughts of Hannibal's breath across your skin crossed yours. The way he would delicately undress you, or featherlight kisses against your flesh. You lick your lips and look down at your plate as you adjust in your chair.

Picking at your plate, your mind preoccupied with the idea of Hannibal in ways that aren't suitable. You're married, and your husband is sitting right across from you. You press your legs together as your mind shows you what it would be like with Hannibal in the privacy of his bedroom... or even yours.

Fredrick kept going on about the most little things. He just wouldn't stop, but you didn't mind, where he spoke, you didn't need to. He spoke enough for both of you. You knew how people felt about Fredrick, but you stood by his side. Doting, caring, kind, and always willing to go the extra mile when needed.

You were his opposite, and everyone noticed this. Hannibal noticed it. He kept watch of you, even from a distance. Learning that you work in the same place as your husband and knowing that he really doesn't pay attention to things, thoughts started to brew, especially when he picked up on the wetness between your legs, maybe a part of him knew that wasn't for your husband.

Hannibal was a predator, a predator with a god complex. He knew exactly what he wanted, how he was going to get it, and just what moment he was going to get it, and honey, he was looking right at you. He didn't care much for your husband, honestly, his liver would make a good pate... for the neighborhood stray cats. But you, you he wanted to savor.

It seemed like he was walking in a fog as you sat there, the more he got to know about you, the more he realized you drove a hunger in him no one else was going to be able to satisfy. During this time the three of you had concluded your dinner, and he was a man on a new mission. Your idiot husband would be none the wiser in realizing you're gone, seems he hardly pays attention as it is, and maybe you could use something different in your life... something... unpredictably exciting.

Over the next few weeks, Hannibal watched you, paid attention to you, found your likes your dislikes, learned your schedule. Hannibal had decided to take it upon himself to make sure that you were going to be the one to show him around this place, but you weren't going to be returning to your post. Not today, not tomorrow, and if he had it his way, not at all.

What Hannibal lacked in realizing was your fondness of him as well, but you love your husband dearly, and while the mental fantasies may be nice, you would never act on them. You desire only your husband in that light, so your thoughts were just that, little fantasies that would never be acted out. Not in a way you want them to at least.

It all happened so fast. You were showing him around the facility, the next thing you knew you were waking up tied to a bed with silk rope and the harder you pulled, the tighter your restraints got. Mentally you started to panic, and you started to jerk your arms and legs but you couldn't figure out how to get out of this.

"Where am I?" you call out. But no answer. The lack of answer sends you into a deeper panic. You stayed really quiet and listened. Then you heard a door close. "HELLO?! HEY! WHERE AM I?" You call out again. But instead of a response, you're greeted with the face of Hannibal. "Dr. Lecter. Why am I here? What have you done? Fredrick is going to be worried sick. Let me go. Please let me go." While begging you realize this is one of many unsavory fantasies you've had about Hannibal, maybe in a different light, but along the same idea.

"Don't be foolish, he hardly notices you past his own nose. He won't realize you're gone until he's so lost in his own hunger that he's calling for you to make his dinner." He stated.

"That's not true Hannibal. Please, please let me go. I'll give you whatever you want, just let me go." You state.

He looks at you, his eyes hungry but for something different, something no one else has been able to satisfy. "I know your thoughts at dinner, they weren't for your husband, that dewy scent. If anyone says a woman doesn't have a scent, they're blind. You were thinking of me, much like you are now." he pointed out.

You shake your head. "Hannibal, we can't do this. I love my husband, he's been good to me. Please. Please let me go." you plead again.

He shakes his head. "No, not today, maybe not tomorrow, we're going to live out our own fantasies." he tells you.

"Hannibal. No, no I'm a married woman, I can't." you state watching him get closer to you.

Hannibal's hand running up your leg, under your dress, you realize that he's taken it upon himself to remove your panties and your breathing gets heavier. You close your eyes and look away. This can't be happening. Tensing as he reaches your dewy bud, he runs his fingers over it delicately and watches you tense and take in a deeper breath before you shake your head.

Stripping down you look him over, biting your lip you close your eyes and shake your head. In your mind you've told him no, but a very confused no. The kind of no he only hears as yes. The kind of no that states, you're confused, and you want him to fulfill your fantasies.

Pulling at your arms to try and get free wasn't working, and in a matter of blinking he was shoving himself between your legs and you let out a scream. While confused yes, you mentally admitted to yourself that he filled you far better than Fedrick, but this was wrong, and you wanted him to stop.

"Please, please..." you kept saying.

"Shh, shh... I know this is what you want." he tells you.

With each thrust came a grunt from him, a whimper from you. Your body responded to him, very well, you were wet, drippy, and you soaked his cock, but you were mentally blank, you did know how to respond to what your body was responding to. You weren't wanting of this.

Tears fell from your eyes, your hands gripped at the rope, your body his to use, and use it he did. Thrusting and gripping and grunting and groaning, you felt good to him, and he wanted more.

Suddenly you found your hips moving, and while you wanted this mentally, you knew you couldn't give in, he gripped at you, and moved your hips even more. You felt yourself close, but you needed to hold off. But you couldn't. With a slacked jaw, and a deep gasp of air you let out a scream as he hit that right spot. Your whole body shook.

"That's it... come on." He beckoned for your finish, and like that, a raw pure explosion of euphoria filled you, and you lay limp. Your mind went quiet as he gave his last few final thrusts, as he buried himself deep within you and coated your velvet like walls with thick ribbons of his own release.

In your mind, this was going to come to an end, but it wasn't. He used you day in and day out, maybe you'd grow to love Hannibal, realize he was right, your husband didn't notice, and he didn't care. Right now, in this moment what mattered, was you were being taken care of. You were being fed, bathed, hydrated. You were a prisoner yes, but was it really all that bad? Was Hannibal really that bad? Or were you going to find that moment to break free and run back to the man that forgets you work at the same hospital? Regardless of what happens, you were going to make the most of it. May as well start now right?

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artistic-intrxvert · 3 months ago

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Hello again wonderful author. ☺️ I was wondering if you could a story where stoic, monotone, asocial 11 year old trans fem! reader is with Charlie and his friends, even though she doesn't want to be there, and she's just sitting in the corner with her headphones on listening to literal white noise and eating sugar cookies and drawing black cats in her sketchbook and Nick comes up to her thinking she's sad and trying to cheer her up and she just stays silent and taciturn as usual and then she walks away and goes back to her room to read and watch Silence of the Lambs?

Hello again indeed!🫶Love this prompt :) have a short drabble bc you’re awesome :D

“Yeah…She just does that sometimes…” (PLATONIC)

Charlie had invited his friends over, much like he did often. Tori was upstairs in her room, taking a nap. Oliver along with Charlie’s parents were out. You were left in the living room as Charlie’s friends all laughed and talked with each other. It began to get a little loud for you, all the voices compiled. It was a lot, even though this happened rather often on weekends.

You sigh softly and decide to listen to some white noise. It usually makes it easier to handle big groups of people this way. You had gotten a plate of sugar cookies that you and Tori had made together the other day and sat back down in your small corner. While everyone was talking and playing Mario kart, you just sketched some cats in your notebook. Cats always fascinated you, probably because they shared their unsocial traits with you. Cats always made more sense than people. Or at least, you thought so.

Your through were halted when Nick, Charlie’s boyfriend sat next to you, though keeping a good foot or two between you to give you some space. He cleared his throat and said, “You alright? You’ve been over here by yourself for a bit. Just wanted to let you know that there’s an extra controller if you wanted a go at trying to beat Charlie at Mario Kart.” He smiled softly after he spoke, patiently waiting for a response. After a few seconds, you blinked and closed your notebook, grabbed your cookies, and headed upstairs without a word.

Charlie chuckled, “Sorry, she’s like that sometimes.” Nick chuckled nervously, unsure if that was true or if he said something wrong.

Once in your room, door closed and headphone off. You sat down on your bed, grabbing some pillows for comfort as you decide to read while you watch Silence of the Lambs. It was nicer this way, the hum of your fan easing your stress in the living room. While you liked Charlie’s friends as good people, you just…didn’t like people. Even the good ones. Which was fine, nothing wrong with it: you just couldn’t be around that many people for very long. Although you mostly forgot about Charlie’s friends being downstairs, you did hear them yelling at laughing; something about Tao eating some weird food that they had delivered.

Shaking your head, you go back to reading your book. A soft smile unknowingly made its way onto your face. Man, you liked days like this.

Thank you for you request :D hope I got this right lol

Kai/Blake/Vert

#heartstopper x reader #heartstopper #platonic

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jensensfanfic · 2 years ago

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hi! if you're still taking daniel requests, could you write something where he and the reader are in their early-mid 20s and find out they're gonna be parents? maybe the reader gets the news at the doctor's office and surprises daniel when he gets home from work? wholesome domestic scenarios my beloved <3 thanks you!!!

LITTLE BEAN

pairing: daniel larusso x fem!reader

warnings: set in the present, daniel/reader are mid 20s but want kids, pregnancy, little mentions of anxiety - but it's just reader being nervous. not edited - i finished it mid work shift 😶

a/n: can we pretend he's mid 20s in that gif, please, despite the fact he doesn't age and looks so young lol. i don't write pregnancy fics often, so i it hope this is okay. i'm also worried i didn't stay true to his character... but again, i hope it's okay for you!!

—★•°°•☆°••°★•°°•☆°••°★—

The journey home from the doctor's office feels like a lifetime. Every second seems to tick by at a snails pace. The usual bus ride home only takes around 20 minutes, and today is no different. There's not much traffic, and more than half of the seats are empty, but somehow, time moves so much slower.

You pull out your phone to check for any new messages and hope to see one from Daniel, but there's nothing yet. You assume this means he's working a little later. For a moment, this bothers you... until you get an idea. You'd wanted Daniel to be at home for the surprise at first, but this way, maybe you would have time to set up something special.

You type a quick text to Daniel, asking him how long he'll be. He responds quickly, and you figure out you have just under an hour to pull together what you can.

You get off the bus one stop before home, and head into your local supermarket. At the back of the store is a bakery, where you ask for a pre-baked cake to be decorated with two simple words. The friendly woman behind the counter pipes the words in pink and blue frosting and takes only ten minutes or so to finish it. You thank her as she hands over the box with a smile on her face and congratulates you.

Next, you pick up a pack of sharpies and some balloons from the party aisle that are the same colours as the frosting on your cake. Then you head to the section you'll no doubt be frequenting over the next few months... nay, years. You try to be quick, but the shelves of cute stuffed animals leave you spoiled for choice and very indecisive. You question if you even need one, but before you can walk away, you spot the perfect option.

You pick up the soft little toy sheep, giggling, then run your fingers over the material of the gi it wears. "Perfect."

Honesty, if you'd seen the little guy before, you'd have bought it ages ago.

After paying for everything, you head for your apartment, with enough time to spare to sort everything out.

You tie some of the pink and blue balloons together and put them in the living room, next to the coffee table where you've set the cake. With the sharpies, you draw and write cute little messages on them. You lay two plates, two forks, and two napkins next to it, along with a knife. Then, you decide to put on one of your favourite outfits. One you'd usually wear on a date night, something that would definitely make Daniel curious when he came home to see it.

You take a deep breath and take out one last thing from the pocket of the coat you'd hung up by the front door. You gaze at the image in wonder while your free hand smooths over your stomach.

You move to go and find somewhere to put it, but then there's the sound of keys jingling and the opening of the front door. You move your hands behind your back and watch as Daniel enters your home, a frown already forming on his face.

"Oh. Hey, babe. Are you off somewhere?" He kicks off his shoes and shuts the door behind him, opening his arms for a hug. You wrap your arms around him, peck his lips, and then step back, careful not to drop or reveal the gift. "Is it date night? Oh, god, did I forget?"

"Uh, no. No, but I do have a surprise for you."

"Aw, thank you babe. Can I sit first?" You stop him with a hand on his chest when he looks towards the living room. He looks down at your hand and cocks his head like a curious puppy. "Uh..."

You chuckle nervously. "Ha. Sorry, but not just yet. Here. I bought you something."

Swiftly, you bring the toy from behind your bag and hold it between you, wiggling the sheep's little legs and smiling. Daniel's eyes light up at the simple, yet meaningful gift. He grins and laughs. "Oh, my God. A karate sheep? That's amazing!"

He takes if gratefully, inspecting the little patch on the gi. "Hm. Maybe Mr Miyagi can sew a mini bonsai patch for it. This flower patch is cute and all but this little guy has to be a Miyagi-Do student."

You snort and chuckle at him, thrilled that he likes his first surprise, but then your mind immediately switches to the second. The subject of your other gift is something you've both talked about for about a year now. Both of you want it, but it doesn't halt the anxiety that sits heavy in your chest. There is always the chance that Daniel may have changed his mind.

"Hey, babe?" You take a deep breath and reach up to cup his jaw, bringing his attention back to you. He sets the toy sheep on top of the shelf by the front door and brings his hands down to your waist, running circles there with his thumbs. "I have something else for you."

"Why do you seem so nervous? Whatever it is, I'll love it. You know I will."

"Come on." One final blow of air, and you take his hand, turning around and leading him to the room where the balloons and cake are waiting. "So..."

Daniel's mouth falls open. He glances between each balloon, reading the drawn-on letters that say things like, 'oh, baby', 'hey, daddy'. On some of them, you'd drawn little baby faces that look similar to the emoji.

He doesn't say a word yet, but you no longer feel that worry as he smiles, then laughs, then goes silent once more. He slowly sits down on the sofa and stares at the cake for a few moments. In blue and pink, the frosting reads, "WE'RE PREGNANT".

"Is this... are you... I mean, are you messing with me?" Daniel shoots up again, rounding the sofa to see you. "Please, this isn't a joke, is it?"

"No!" You snicker, then look up into his eyes. Your own eyes are full of promise, excitement, and... starting to water. "I wouldn't do that, I swear. Look, I have a picture."

"You have a picture already? Let me see." He makes grabby hands and you reveal your still-hidden hand from behind your back. "Oh..."

"The doctor said I'm 4 or 5 weeks." Tears start to fall from your eyes and you decide to take a seat on the sofa, your stomach filling with butterflies and your knees starting to feel weak at the way Daniel is looking at you.

"He looks like a little bean."

"'He'?" He joins you on the sofa, placing the photo down on the table. "You think it's a boy?"

"I have a feeling."

"This soon?" You laugh, dabbing at the corners of your eyes with gentle fingertips.

"Yep, but either way, I'm gonna be the best Daddy for the little bean, I promise." His eyes flicker to your stomach and he splays a hand out on your skin. "Hear that, bean? I love you so much. Your Mum, too. And I can't wait to meet you."

"Danny..." You fully burst into happy sobs and fling your arms around him. You giggle and repeatedly kiss the back of his neck. "I can't believe I thought for a second you wouldn't be happy about this."

"Of course I am, sweetheart." You feel the movement when he chuckles. "We didn't try to have a baby to... not have a baby."

"I still thought maybe–"

"Shh." He leans into the crook of you neck. "No, no, no. I'm so happy, baby. I can't wait to start this family with you." He kisses you back a couple of times before pulling away slightly. "Can we eat some cake now, it looks delicious."

You nod and he releases you, but keeps a hold of one of your hands. As he cuts a piece of cake for you, he lifts his brows and says, "You know what else? I can't wait to see our child lifting that All Valley trophy."

—★•°°•☆°••°★•°°•☆°••°★—

#my writing #mine #millerswritings #millerswritings/dojolarusso #daniel larusso x reader #daniel larusso fluff #pregnancy fic #the karate kid #requested: anon

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tmwcs · 1 year ago

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how would Heethan react to a hickey prank??

my idea:

when dropping y/n off at school, he briefly spots something on her neck but doesn’t get a chance to ask her because she gets off the car pretty fast so when Heethan texts her, she plays dumb the entire time and to make it worse, says it might have gotten from a guy 👀

well damn anon….😲😲😲😲 RIP to you and all the other readers…..at this point, you all behind saving. Not even I, can stop Heethan. Lol

Y’all really want to just experience Heethan’s brutality don’t you? Lol 😈 as you wish. One shot, not proofread so pls ignore mistakes. But this was a fun one… hehehe

nice knowing you…

April Fools

The girls had introduced their traditional act of a prank draw for April Fools. Each person was to draw out a ticket from a fishbowl and commit to a prank against their boyfriend, and to your dismay, you drew out the worst possible one you could imagine, the fake hickey prank.

Your heart fell into your stomach upon seeing the ticket, and you begged to swap it out but the girls were relentless in seeing you suffer at the hands of your man, considering everyone knew how Heesueng was with you.

He LOVED you…yet you felt like your life was about to be cut short after conducting this prank.

In the girls bathroom, you became overwhelmingly nervous as it was closer to time when Heeseung would pick you up. The girls had collected a variety of purple, blue and even brown eye shadows and applied dabs of it on the side of your neck to make it appear as a real hickey.

“Voila!”

“Wow it really looks like a legit hickey.”

“Oh poor y/n hahahahahaha”

You stood there with your eyes closed, brows furrowed, and in complete fear as your hands began to shake.

Not only did the girls enforced you to keep your ticket, they also made you wear one of Heeseung’s favorite mini sun dresses to add a bit of sting once you reveal the fake hickey, and tell him that you got it from another boy.

“Okay, so you have to tell him that after he dropped you off, you skipped class with a boy. You’ll tell him that you were taking photos of you pretending to hug and cuddle with the boy as an “April Fools” joke, but then you got too carried away and let the guy continue in the midst of passion and he gave you a hickey. Got it?”

The girls scoffed and chuckled upon hearing the regulation of your prank.

“I…I really don’t think I can do this…” you softly spoke, your voice shaken from the chills at imagining Heeseung’s face.

“Come on Y/N, we all did ours. Just do it, it will be so fun. Well immediately tell and show him it’s fake after you pull his string for a few minutes.”

Nodding hesitantly, you reluctantly agreed. Suddenly H/N appears busting through the bathroom door.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Ethan’s here!”

Your eyes widened and you grabbed on to one of the girls arms for dear life.

‘No, no, no, no! God help me I’m going to die…’

They push you out of the girls bathroom, forcing you to make your way out of the exit. Seeing Heeseung’s car parked along the curb, you gulped. Unlike some of the other boys, Heeseung had so much on his plate that he didn’t even realize it was April Fools day. H/n made Jake promise to not reveal the date or the prank to him, since she had already got her fill and conducted her prank earlier in the day.

Walking slowly up to his car, you wished, for once, that his windows were not tinted as you couldnt see his face through the glass. You wondered if he was already looking at you.

Your hair laid down, it was his favorite way of you wearing it, just all natural and free as it frames your face.

Opening the door, you felt a chill run up your spine the moment you got a swift sniff of his cologne as you sat inside next to him on the front passenger seat. He was on the middle of sending out a mass group text to his peers to remind them of their assignments due date as he had assisted his professor with teaching and leading exam prep.

As he remained focused on the screen, he speaks out,

“Hey pretty baby, how was your day?”

You were so glad he was still staring at the screen, otherwise you would not have been confidant enough to answer right back.

“…fine…how was yours?”

“Good. Just sending out a reminder real quick. Had a busy day.”

“Oh?…”

“Yeah, my professor left early so I had to-“

He glances up to see as your hair was all swooped over to the opposite shoulder, with some shorter layered pieces near the front falling along your neckline as it subtly covers the fake hickey…but not enough to go unnoticed. The very second he lifted his gaze he went silent, yet his eyes remained on your neck.

Meanwhile, you tucked in your lips and stared out through your window, wincing your eyes shut as you took in the silence. You hear him put his phone down and as he continued to remain focused on your sight, you hear his hand lift up and reach over to you, in attempt to move the pieces of your hair away from your neck.

“Uh I forgot something I’ll be right back!!”

You quickly ushered as you got out of the car and ran back inside the building. What frightened you even more was the fact that he didnt even try to stop you, grab on to you, yell or chase you down.

‘He actually let me get away?’

Most times, Heeseung was quick to snag your wrist or your waist before you could even move an inch, yet this time, it appeared he was in such shock that he didn’t exhibit the viper strike speed of his hand like he normally did.

You saw up ahead and watched as the girls all laughed and pointed at you, knowing full well they had watched through the window and were waiting for you to bust in, yet upon realizing that Heeseung wasn’t coming after you, everyone grew confused, as did you.

“What the hell? Y/n, does he know it’s a prank?”

“No, I don’t think so…”

“Then why isn’t he coming for you?”

“I…I don’t-“

Suddenly your phone vibrates, a text from Heeseung came in…

You nearly started to hyperventilate as you read his texts.

‘Oh my God…I’m dead…’

The girls all peered in as they took a glance at the text, which enabled them to enthusiastically remind you of the format in your prank.

“Remember! You have to tell him it’s from a boy while you were skipping class!” They all issued out and laughed, knowing full well that you were scared beyond shitless.

You stopped texting at noticing that Heeseung didn’t go on a rampage or rant out with his interrogational rant. There was absolutely no text back.

After telling the girls of his lack of response, you began to tell them that the prank has to be called off, that you had taken it way too far.

Suddenly the door behind you opens, turning around you see Heeseung walking slowly over towards you. His hat covered his eyes in their usual fashion, but there was something very eerie with the way he looked compared to how he normally did. And it wasn’t just the fact that his Ethan side had emerged.

Not saying a word, his chin tilted down, he walks over, upon breaching you you noticed a pair of black, fingerless martial arts gloves adorning his hands. The sleeves of his black tanker jacket rolled a quarter way up, left completely unzipped as he displayed the semi-fitted white tee-shirt underneath, which subtly showed off his lean muscle. Earlier you thought he looked incredibly sexy with how his ensemble paired nicely with his straight jeans and boots. Now, you were terrified as he resembled a hit man for hire.

The girls all rushed over to cover you and began explaining the prank as they hurdled around, taking notice of the man’s fierce demeanor.

“Ethan! Ethan! It was a prank! It was a prank, we all did the fishbowl prank like in high school. Remember? Remember Vicky used to do it to you?”

“Yeah it’s all good Ethan. It was a prank, y/n would never…”

They all fell silent and their eyes widened with fear as he ignored their words and continued to walk through them, his frame and slow pace pushes them off to the side as he walked into some of the girls that remained steadfast in blocking you, yet in the end, they all cleared the path at seeing his tenacity to get to you, despite how slow he was walking.

You merely stood there with a look of fear and aloofness as your expression told him that you were flying the white flag of mercy. Your eyes began to start tearing up and getting glossy as he stood right in front of you.

He lifts his chin just enough to reveal and peek one eye from under his cap. The shadow still tinting his face as he looks into your eyes, a ghostly smirk appears from the side of his mouth. Reaching up, he gently placed his hand on the side of your neck, resting it on the corner of where the neckline meets the shoulder. With the extension of his thumb, he presses down on the mark, and drags it downward, smearing the eyeshadow, revealing that it indeed was fake, though it didn’t make you feel any better, especially at feeling the leather of those fingerless gloves, which you were deathly afraid at figuring what was going through his mind when he placed them on and came to find you.

Still displaying his devilish smirk, he finally spoke.

“You in a mood to play pranks today, babydoll? Hmm?”

The combination of the low tone in his growling voice and the pet name reflected that he had totally gone to his Ethan side, lacking all the softness, rationality, and gentleness of his Heeseung side.

You just stood frozen staring at him with the stinging moisture covering your eyes as you felt like you wanted to scream and cry. You felt scared…really scared. With your lips slightly parted, you watched as he slightly tilted his head to take a closer look at the fake hickey, before he shifted his shadowed eyes to you and grinned once more.

Upon hearing his question, the girls all started to rush in from behind him as they issued out words to explain yet again, that the prank was part of their yearly traditions. Yet the moment that Ethan snapped his head over, glaring a deathly gaze in his side eye to them, they all stopped, retracted, and looked away as they issued whispers of how great it was in knowing you.

Turning his face back to you, his smirk re-appears. It was sinister, eerie, and teasingly deceiving.

You shook your head and finally responded to his question.

“N-no…”

“Oh?” Here merely responds with his eyebrows raised.

He leans in and softly buried his face into your ear, softly taking in the scent of your hair surrounding it. You felt his mouth gasping open right over it, the vapor of his hot breath submerging directly into your ear canal as he softly kisses it in very slow motion. In between his soft and gasping kisses he finished his statement.

“I *kiss* think *kiss* you *kiss* are.” Each kiss was filled with a soft gasp, it was sickening and tenderly sweet with how his lips tapped on your ear as he softly and calmly spoke into it with his deep and alluring voice.

“Well since you’re in a playful mood, let’s go and…play.”

Quietly taking you by the hand, he leads you out of the building, still walking at a slowed pace, which made you feel even worse. His grip on your hand tightened the moment you exit the building. Guiding you into your seat, he walks around and seats himself, driving back to his room as if nothing had happened. The car ride was silent and awkward, all you could do was sit there and stare at the flooring of the car while your hands remained on your lap.

You tried to apologize, feeling terrible at how the whole thing turned out.

“I’m sorr-“

“Shhhhhh..”

His shushing cut you off as he stared at the road, yet the moment he issued it, his eyes widened and that sinister smirk re-appeared. Even though he was looking at the road, you felt ultimate fear upon seeing it from the side.

Finally, you both arrived at the frat house. Getting out, he walks over and takes you by the hand and leads you out of the car and into the house. Walking in, you shuddered at the fact that he was still walking in a calm, quiet, and slowed pace. The moment he started to lead you up the stairs, you heard him humming…

Whoa, whoa, whoa

다시 chaconne now

Whoa, whoa, whoa

Chaconne now

“Ethan, what song are you humming?”

He merely grinned and chuckles without looking back at you.

Entering his room, he guides you in first.

Reaching behind, without breaking his gaze on you, he locks the door, takes the key, and tosses it off the side without even looking at where it went. You hear the metal sound of the key bouncing off the floor, that was when you felt internal panic.

“Uhh…Ethan?”

Still humming and grinning, he passes you as he heads over to his closet, where he started to dig out something.

“Ah-ha. Found it.” He calmly stated, nearly in a whisper.

‘Found what?’ You wondered.

Taking out a gym bag, he pulls out something that you couldn’t make out.

“Here.” He calmly states.

Tossing the item to you, he follows on with “Put it on.” His tone still deep, low, and calm.

You looked at him in confusion as you held the piece in your hand.

“Wh- what is it?”

He smirks.

You’ve packed his gym attire and did his laundry countless times, never have you once seen this item inside his bag, he must have gotten it within the week while you were so busy with your class work, it was the only time you hadn’t gone into his bag to clean his clothes.

Upon hearing your question, he tilts his head and smiles yet again. His grin was so….

Scary.

“Ah, that’s right. You’ll need instructions on how to put it on, won’t you?”

Devilishly grinning, tilting his head, bearing a slight bit of teeth as he eerily stares his smile your way, he reaches into the bag…not even breaking that sinister gaze or smirk away from you. A chill stuns your spine.

Grabbing a piece of paper that was neatly folded, he tosses it to you.

“Now…go put it on for daddy.” He chuckles.

You unfold the paper, it displayed instructions on how to put on the item properly.

It wasn’t until you saw the image of the item in proper wear that your body was jolted with lightening bolts of fear and panic. Your breathing heightened to an unsteady state.

Looking up at him, you saw that he stood, still grinning and looking at you with wide, piercing eyes while the shadow of his cap hovered over half his face.

Chuckling, he lowly spits out.

“Let’s play.”

………………..

the next day….

>:)

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#heeseung hard hours #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #enha x reader #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enha heeseung

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