#see i don’t really like the show too much for what it is but i do like any excuse for lockwood content ever

[flowersforbucky]

i got it bad

logan howlett x reader (worst!logan x reader)

word count: 4.9k

summary/prompt: logan can't help that he has super hearing and overhears you - wade's seemingly sweet, shy neighbor - telling vanessa what you fantasize about doing to him. believing that you won't ever act on it, he takes matters into his own hands.

or - getting yourself off on logan's abs

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only mdni, reader is afab, no use of y/n, logan's pov, porn with a little plot, male masturbation, teasing, nipple/breast play, some tit slaps, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, cream pie

Ever since Logan first met you, he hasn’t been able to get you out of his fucking head.

Which is really unfortunate for him, considering you seem indifferent to his existence.

Wade says that you're just an introvert, and that it takes you a while to get comfortable around new people, but after living across the hallway from you for the last few months, Logan is sure that you have no interest in him outside of simple, polite conversation whenever the two of you run into each other.

He first notices you from across the room when you enter Wade and Althea's apartment – his apartment now, too, he supposes. The small space is crowded, but you're impossible for him to overlook. He instantly recognizes you from the polaroid picture that Wade had showed him in the Void.

You’re greeted by Vanessa, who kisses you on the cheek and shoves a drink in your hand before dragging you over to where Logan is listening to Wade and Althea bicker about – what were they bickering about again? All he can focus on is the way your dress hugs your curves and the lipstick imprint that you’ve left on the champagne flute in your hand.

He needs to get out more. Go to a bar, get a job, maybe even try out one of those dating apps that Vanessa has suggested to him – something to get him out of this fucking apartment that he's stayed holed up in since arriving in this universe, because he should not be this flustered by a complete stranger.

“Earth to Peanut,” Wade snaps his fingers in front of Logan’s face. He barely processed anything Vanessa had said while she introduced you. Blah blah, neighbor, something something, lives down the hallway. “Jesus, did you get into the white powder under the floorboard? Your pupils are as big as saucers right now.”

“Oh, go easy on him, Wade,” Althea scolds. “It’s natural for pupils to dilate when looking at a pretty girl.”

The expression on your face matches how Logan feels – surprised, embarrassed, slightly mortified.

“You don't even know what she looks like. She could look like me for all you know,” Wade snorts.

“She brings me homemade cookies and she always smells good,” Al retorts. “I don't need to be able to see her to know that she's pretty.”

“Nice to meet you,” Logan finally speaks up with a forced smile. Leave it to his two roommates to make a simple introduction as awkward as possible. “And no, I am not high on cocaine,” he adds with a pointed glare at Wade.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Logan,” you return the sentiment with a chortle and shy smile. “And don’t worry, I never pay attention to anything Wade says.”

Yukio and her girlfriend with the long ass name that Logan has yet to memorize then walk up and gain your attention, leaving Logan wishing he could redo the entire interaction.

He spends the rest of the night hoping for an opportunity to talk to you again, and feeling disappointed when that doesn’t happen.

The next couple of months go similarly. He runs into you frequently – in the elevator, and the communal laundry room of the apartment complex, and when you’re both checking your mail at the same time.

You always greet him with a smile and ask the typical casual conversation questions – how he's liking his new job (he’s not, but he tells you it’s going fine), if Wade is staying out of trouble (no), and how Laura is doing (she’s doing great, actually), but it never progresses much past that.

As soon as the conversation starts to venture into more personal territory, you seem to shut down. You’ll make some excuse about having somewhere to be, wish him a good day, and then you’re gone.

He can’t help himself. He sees how carefree and talkative you can be with Vanessa and hell, even Wade – and he wants that. At least then he may feel a little less crazy for spending so much of his free time racking his brain for ways to get closer to you.

Maybe it’s because it has been so long since he’s had a crush on anyone, but sometimes he thinks he might be losing his mind with how often he thinks of you – your smile, your eyes, your scent, your voice, and the way that having a five minute conversation with you always leaves him feeling for the rest of the day.

That’s why when he’s walking to his apartment one evening, and hears his name come from inside your apartment, he stops dead in his fucking tracks.

God, he knows he shouldn’t listen. He knows he should keep walking, go into his apartment and close the door.

But it’s not like he has his ear pressed up against your door. It’s not his fault that he has super hearing and that the apartment building has paper thin walls.

His brain is yelling at his feet to move but they stay planted firm right where they are.

“He thinks you don’t like him, you know,” Vanessa says. Logan doesn’t need to be able to see to know that there’s a smirk on her face.

He’s tempted to cause some kind of commotion in the hallway and then dash into his apartment, just to stop Vanessa from saying whatever the hell she’s about to say.

“Logan?” You sound appalled. “Of course I like him.”

“I know that you like him,” Vanessa chuckles. “But I can see why he would think otherwise. You act like you can barely stand to be in the same room as the guy for five minutes.”

“That’s not true.” Your voice shoots up several octaves higher than normal.

Logan sends a silent prayer to whoever the fuck is listening that no one walks down this hallway in the next few minutes and sees him standing still as a statue next to your apartment door.

“It’s not that I simply can’t stand to be in the same room as him,” you continue, lowering your voice back down to its normal volume. “It’s that being in the same room as him makes me want to jump his adamantium bones.”

For a second, he really believes that his two hundred year old heart might stop beating.

“I’m fucking pathetic around him,” you huff. “Last week, I saw him pull his t-shirt off in the laundry room to put a clean one on, and ever since then I haven’t been able to stop thinking about grinding my pussy against his abs. Something is seriously wrong with me, Nes.”

But Logan doesn’t hear Vanessa’s response, because he speed walks away while she’s still cackling. By some miracle, Wade isn’t home, so Logan darts past Althea and locks himself in the bathroom.

What the fuck, Jesus Christ, and holy shit all play on a loop in his mind while he tries to ignore the bulge that has quickly formed in his jeans.

The last words he expected to hear anyone say today were jump his adamantium bones and grinding my pussy against his abs – but the fact that he heard those words come from your mouth in your sweet voice has his cock throbbing so hard that he can't think of anything other than you doing exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about.

Images of you straddling him with your bare, wet cunt rubbing against his happy trail, getting yourself off on his body as he plays with your pretty tits –

He let’s out an audible growl and rips the shower curtain open before turning on the water – straight to his normal hot temperature, too. He knows a cold shower isn't going to do him any good right now.

Standing beneath the hot stream, he thinks of what has transpired in the last five minutes and strokes himself in his hand until warm, white liquid follows the water down the drain.

When he finishes, he stills hears your voice in his mind and gets hard again within minutes.

••••••

Logan hasn’t seen you in three days. Three days might not seem like a long time to go without seeing your neighbor, but it feels like a long fucking time for him. In fact, it’s the longest he’s gone without casually running into you since he first met you months ago.

There’s a reason for this, though – he hasn’t checked his mail in days, hasn’t taken any of his laundry down to the basement in days, and has generally tried to avoid leaving his apartment as much as he can out of fear that he’ll see you. He even went as far as to pretend to be napping when you came by with some fresh baked brownies for Althea yesterday.

He wants to see you, of course. Goddamn, does he want to see you. But after overhearing your conversation with Vanessa earlier this week, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to look you in the eye and pretend like he hasn't been making himself cum to the thought of you on top of him every time he takes a shower.

But after three days, he finds himself missing you too much to keep up his attempt at distancing himself from you.

What if he’s being ridiculous, staying cooped in this apartment to avoid you? What if you’re just down the hallway, thinking about him at the same time he’s thinking of you?

He's tidying up the kitchen when he sees the pink Tupperware container that you’d brought the brownies in yesterday sitting in the sink. The brownies were long gone – they’d all been eaten by him, Wade and Al within the same hour that you brought them over.

Taking the Tupperware back to you would be the nice, neighborly thing to do, right?

With Al already retired to her bedroom for the evening, and Wade out with Vanessa, he takes it upon himself to wash and dry the container.

It’s a Friday night, so he knows there’s a chance that you’ve got plans and might not even be home, but he still takes a few minutes to fix his hair and swipe some deodorant on before walking down the hallway towards your apartment.

As he approaches your door, he realizes that you are home. There’s light spilling from the crack at the bottom of the doorframe and he can hear low music playing inside. A mix of anxiety and anticipation sets in, but he clears his throat and knocks on your door before he can chicken out.

He hears your footsteps approaching and attempts to wipe any sign of nervousness from his face – he’s just returning your Tupperware, for Christ's sake.

“Logan,” you breathe as you open the door. “I haven’t seen you in a few days,” you greet him. He can’t help but relax at the smile that grows on your face when you realize it’s him. “What are you up to this evening?”

You lean against your doorframe, and Logan has to force himself to maintain eye contact. You’re wearing a matching pajama set – a cute pair of velvet shorts and tank top that shows more of your skin than he’s ever seen before.

“I – uh,” he stammers, holding out the Tupperware container to you. “I just thought I’d bring this back to you. They were great, by the way.”

Your smile spreads to your eyes at his compliment.

“Oh, thanks,” you beam. “I’m glad you got to have one. Wade told me that you were asleep when I came by yesterday so I figured he’d have them eaten by the time you woke up.”

“I’m sure he would have, but Al made him save one for me,” he laughs.

He tries to focus on the conversation at hand, but the fact that you look fresh out of the shower definitely isn’t fucking helping. Bare faced with the scent of your body wash and lotion on your skin, his thoughts begin to stray into dangerous territory fast.

“I don’t wanna interrupt your night, though. I’ll let you get back to—”

“You’re not,” you say quickly as he begins to step backwards. “You're not interrupting. Are you doing anything tonight? I just ordered a pizza and there’s plenty. I was gonna watch a movie, if you want…” You trail off, glancing back and forth between him and your apartment behind you.

He can't help but notice that your voice sounds hopeful.

The invitation excites him more than he cares to admit. Sure, the two of you have hung out plenty of times, but it's always been in a group setting – at one of Wade’s get togethers or movie nights, surrounded by other friends.

But never just the two of you – definitely never in your apartment.

He could never think of saying no to you. Especially not when this is what he's been hoping for since he first me you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd really like that.”

You hold the door open for him, letting him enter your apartment. Right away, he notices how different it is from the one that he lives in. Then again, there’s three people cramped into Althea’s – you're the only person who lives here, so you're able to make it entirely your own.

It’s cute, and cozy, he thinks. From your furniture adorned with throw pillows and blankets, to all of your shelves stocked with books, knick-knacks and candles, to the various plants occupying space throughout the living room, it feels endearing and welcoming right away.

“So, where’s Wade at tonight?” you ask as he ventures into the living room. He notes a large cardboard box with an untouched pizza in it on your coffee table. His stomach growls at the sight, and it hits him that he actually is fucking starving.

“He’s out with Vanessa. Fourth time this week,” he answers, turning to find you retrieving two plates from a cabinet in your kitchen. You're angled away from him, and when you raise your arms to grab the plates, your tank top lifts enough to give him a clear view of your midriff. He quickly averts his gaze, pretending to find something on your bookshelf particularly interesting.

“I’m just really glad that they’ve worked through things and seem to be happy now,” you sigh. “He wasn’t in a good place after their breakup. Barely ever left his apartment for the longest time.”

“They’ve got something special, that’s for sure,” Logan agrees.

You hand him a plate, walking past him to your couch. You toss some of the decorative throw pillows to your recliner, making room for him on the sofa. You pat the empty space beside you, an invitation for him to make himself at home.

“Who knows, maybe they'll even get their own place soon and I won’t have to share the living room with him anymore,” he says as he sits down beside you.

It’s a pretty small couch – really more like a loveseat – so it’s a snug fit for the two of you. The skin of your exposed kneecap brushes against the fabric of his jeans as you lean forward to grab yourself a slice of pizza.

“Sounds like you just want Blind Al and Mary Puppins all to yourself,” you tease. You hand him a piece of pizza and close the box before propping your feet up on the table. You lean back, looking at him with a smirk and raised brows.

“If he moves, that dog is going with him and you know it. There’s no way he’d leave her behind,” he shakes his head.

“There’s no way Althea would let him take her. She's grown to be as attached to her as Wade is. I think even you like her more than you care to admit.”

“What can I say? She has a way of weaseling herself into your heart,” Logan sighs.

“Oh, it’s definitely the tongue,” you shrug through a bite of pizza.

Logan grimaces as a vivid image of Mary Puppins French kissing Wade awake flashes through his mind, but he can't help but laugh.

You turn on some action-comedy that Logan has never heard of, and the two of you eat and take turns making comments about whatever is happening on the screen for the first half of the movie.

He tries to stay focused on the film, he really does, but every now and then you readjust your position on the couch, causing him to catch a whiff of your perfume or your thigh will brush against his and he'll have to force his attention back to the characters on the screen.

No matter how distracting he may find your mere presence beside him, he's enjoying himself. This is by far the longest the two of you have hung out together, without the additions of his roommates and other friends. He dreads the moment that the movie ends and he’s obligated to tell you goodnight before reluctantly going back to his own apartment.

During the second act of the movie, he wonders what you’re thinking - if you could possibly be feeling the same way as him – when you randomly sit forward, grab the box of the leftover pizza off of the table in front of you, and stand to take it to your refrigerator.

It's then that he picks up on an odor – not the light floral aroma of your perfume but something new. A scent that answers the question of exactly what you had been thinking about. It’s musky and pheromonal, and even though it’s been a while since Logan has been intimate enough with a woman to smell the scent of her arousal, he recognizes it right away.

When you sit back down beside him, the sweet smell washes over him again and he bites the inside of his lip so hard that he tastes blood. The wound disappears as quickly as it’s formed, but the same can’t be said for the erection that begins to strain against the confines of his boxers.

He eyes the pile of small, decorative pillows that you had tossed to the side and wishes that he could grab one to place over his lap.

The words that you’d said to Vanessa a few days ago begin replaying in his mind for the thousandth time since he’d first heard you say them, reminding him this isn’t one-sided. He may be sitting here attempting to conceal a raging hard-on by shifting his position and subtly adjusting his pants, but Logan’s heightened sense of smell tells him that your underwear are probably starting to feel as uncomfortable as his do at the moment.

Without turning his head, he risks a glance at you. Your eyes are on the movie, and your face is neutral, but your posture gives you away. Your arms are crossed over your chest, the tips of your fingernails digging tiny crescent shaped indentations into the flesh of your upper arm. You have one of your thighs crossed over the other, locked together tightly but that doesn’t stop him from being able to smell how fucking wet you are.

“You know, if my sense of smell is as good as my sense of hearing, then I think I have a pretty good idea of what you’re thinking about right now,” Logan starts, his voice low and gruff. He watches from his peripheral vision as you freeze, your form going rigid.

“But I’d really like to hear you say it.”

You turn to him, your eyebrows quirked but your face otherwise impassive.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. What exactly is it that you’d like to hear me say?” you ask innocently. You give him doe eyes that make his cock finish filling with blood.

He huffs a laugh, picking up on the way that your heartrate accelerates when you look at him.

“I'd like to hear you say what you said to Vanessa a few days ago,” he hums. “I can’t remember exactly, but I think it had something to do with you rubbing your sweet little cunt on my abs. Does that sound familiar to you?”

“Hm,” you feign contemplation. “That doesn’t really sound like something I'd say.”

He knows you’re trying to play it cool, but there’s certain things that you just can’t hide from him – like the way your heart is beating a mile a minute and the way your nipples have pebbled beneath the thin material of your tank top.

“You’re right. It doesn't sound like something you’d say,” he snorts, and leans in so that your face is just a few inches from his. “So imagine my surprise when I walked by your apartment to hear you talking about jumping my adamantium bones.”

He doesn't miss the way your breath catches in your throat or how your eyes flicker to his lips.

“You gonna do it? Or you just gonna keep thinking about it while you're sitting beside me?”

For a second, you say nothing and Logan struggles to read your expression. Then, without taking your eyes off of him, you slowly stand in front of the couch. You reach for the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up.

Logan's mouth goes dry. Suddenly, he's all out of smart remarks.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your pajama shorts, pushing them down your thighs along with your panties, and let them both drop to your feet all while holding his gaze.

With you now stark naked before him, he leans forward, grasping you by the backs of your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. You straddle him, gently pushing him back against the sofa.

He tugs his own shirt over his head while you undo his belt buckle and pop open the top button of his jeans, your hands fumbling when he sheds his shirt.

Logan doesn’t typically think too much about his physical appearance. He knows he’s in good shape, and thinks he’s conventionally attractive enough. But he could see himself getting a bit of an ego, if he had someone looking at him the way you are right now on a regular basis.

You help him shimmy his jeans and boxers down far enough for his cock to spring free. You take him in your hand, using your thumb to smear the thick bead of pre-cum across the head.

“You should be careful listening to people’s conversations outside of their doors,” you hum as you pump him in one hand. You hunch over, lowering your mouth enough to spit down his shaft, lubricating the length. You smirk, glancing up at him from beneath your thick eyelashes. “Other people might not react as happily as me.”

Fuck, he knows it’s been a long time since he's even felt anyone’s hands on him, but he feels a little pathetic at the way his balls are already tightening and feeling so heavy just from the way you’re languidly stroking him.

And as much as he’d love for you to keep your hands on him, there’s time for him later. Right now, what he wants more than anything is the feeling of your pussy on him.

He pulls your hand off of him and then tugs you over his erection, trying his hardest to ignore the way the wetness between your legs glides against the tip of his cock, until you’re flat against the hard expanse of his lower stomach.

“This is what you wanted, yeah?” He grunts. You whimper in response, tightening your thighs around his sides and rocking back and forth with the smallest amount of friction. “Don’t be holding back, wanna feel you make a mess on me.”

His words seem to erase any remaining reservation that you may have had. You brace your hands on his chest and begin dragging your center across his lower stomach, your slick coating the thick trail of hair that goes from his belly button to his waistline. With every backstroke, the head of his cock juts against your ass.

You glide across him easily. Soft, wet, and warm, Logan thinks that if you feel this good on his fucking stomach then there’s no way he’ll be able to handle being inside you.

He leans his head forward, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. You hold his head in your hands, tugging on his hair with your fingers as he teases your nipple with his tongue and teeth.

He pulls his mouth away from your breast with a wet pop. “You like this? Using me to get yourself off?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nod frantically, your answer coming out as a moan. He gives a quick, firm slap to your other breast. Judging by the sound it draws from you, you like it, so he does it again.

He'd pictured this exact scenario a shameful number of times in the last few days, but his thoughts hadn’t done you justice. Every little noise you make, every little whimper and moan as your clit brushes against the thick bulges of his muscles again and again, sounds sweeter than he could've dreamed.

He places his hands on the meat of your hips, guiding you forwards and backwards across his abdomen at a fast pace.

“Fuck,” you gasp, clenching your thighs around him as tight as you can. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

“That’s right,” he coos. “Come on, cum on me.”

You dig your fingernails into his shoulders, drenching the hair on his stomach as you ride out your orgasm on him with a cry of his name.

You collapse against his chest, going still with your face in the crook of his neck as you steady your breathing.

“Look at me,” he whispers after a moment. It hits him that despite the fact that you just humped him until you came all over his abdomen, he somehow hasn’t even kissed you yet.

You pull away from his neck, looking down at him with a dazed expression. He brings your face to his mouth by the back of your neck. He wastes no more time, instantly slipping his tongue past your lips.

He holds you by the globes of your ass, which hovers just above his erection. You grind down, causing the tip of his cock to nudge against your entrance. He groans into your mouth, his cock past the point of feeling like it’s going to explode if he doesn’t fucking feel you.

“We can stop here,” he murmurs against your lips when he breaks the kiss, even though the thought kills him. He doesn’t want to stop kissing you, touching you, tasting you. It’s only been a few months, but it feels like he’s been waiting a lifetime for this and the last thing he wants is for it to come to an end. “Don’t have to go any further if you don’t—”

“No,” you exclaim with a breathy laugh. “No, I don’t want to stop. Do you want to stop?”

He grins up at you, taking his length in his hand and teasing it through your folds from below you. He coats the head in your juices before nudging it against your hole.

“Definitely don’t wanna stop, sweetheart.”

You sink down onto him at the same moment that he tilts his hips up enough to slip inside you, causing the entirety of his length to fill you at once.

You both go still, adjusting to the new sensation of each other. Your walls, velvet soft and so warm, constrict around him like a vice. He knows you’re likely tired from riding him through your first orgasm, so he begins thrusting his hips slowly, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix.

“You’re big. So, so big,” you moan – something between a whine and a praise.

“I know, but you’re doing so good, honey,” he encourages as he eases himself in and out of you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You latch your lips to his again, and it’s hard for him to hold back. The feeling of your tight, perfect cunt around him and the taste of your tongue in his mouth is overwhelming. He wants to memorize every movement, every sound you make.

You snake your hand between your bodies, your fingertips finding your swollen clit and massaging languid circles. He feels you flutter around him as you start meeting his thrusts with movements of your own, and he knows you’re close.

“Not gonna last much longer, honey,” he grunts with a sharp thrust. “Feel too fucking good.”

“Cum with me,” you murmur against his mouth.

Your command causes something in him to snap. He releases a throaty growl, pistoning his hips upwards at a harsh pace as he fills you up from below. You constrict around him, crying his name into his ear as you ride out your climaxes together.

You collapse against his chest once more, his cock still nestled inside you. He loses track of how long the two of you stay like that, neither of you wanting to be the first to move.

“Remind me to eavesdrop on your conversations more often,” he huffs a laugh, still slightly out of breath.

You bring your lips to his, smiling as you give him a light kiss.

“I’ll know if you do. I have a doorbell camera. You didn’t notice that?”

thank you so much for reading <3 comments and reblogs are super appreciated. here are a few more of my favorite logan pieces that i've written ✨️

for always and ever is always for you - old man logan x healer reader

diet pepsi - old man logan x reader limousine sex

lavender and velvet - worst variant logan x neighbor reader

[dollyichi]

I JUST GOT A CRUSH! ᯓ★ katsuki bakugou x f ! reader. 1.02k words / fluff / not proofread

bakugou is bad at social media. not exactly terrible, yet not so great either.

he really doesn’t care too much for it nor does he use it that often but he’s not that unfamiliar with it. he finds himself being on tiktok from time to time though he never really bothered to make it known that he had an account in the first place, just enjoying whatever he comes across and liberally blocks accounts that come up on his fyp that pissed him off. he never posts anything either so it didn’t matter. it’s a typical account with a generated username and a blank profile, 57 following, 0 followers.

recently he found a video that he wanted to share (an edit made by a fan) and posts the link on twitter, alongside saying how ‘it’s real sick’ of them to make that for him. he didn’t even know videos like that were famous. the effort and skill it took made him think it were cool.

what he also didn’t know, was that his profile would be revealed when you press on the link.

he got so confused when his account suddenly gained so many followers in just two days since he ‘never mentioned it.’ that was until he sees the replies on his tweet that the linked he used to share got him exposed.

he checks it out for himself which proved that he did actually share his account without knowing, but it’s ‘whatever.’ even after everyone found out he just used it like normal. it’s only a pain when they kept asking him to post something.

he truly is without care, yet he underestimates the fans who immediately stalk his ‘almost’ empty profile. you see, he doesn’t know that his reposts are public because he doesn’t actually look at his own profile. it’s usually a like, like, repost, favorite, like, then close app routine that he does before he goes to bed.

there's a few funny videos here and there, cooking videos and recipes too, things he'd like to try out soon for himself, or techniques that were really helpful for him. some are also videos of fan edits that he recently discovered, where the same video he shared was at the top of the page.

yet, there was one reoccurring face that kept popping up. a pretty girl who likes to lip sync some songs or show off their trinket hauls. sometimes mini vlogs from their day to day or makeup vids. and the topic trends everywhere: DYNAMIGHT TIKTOK CRUSH

when you saw it you really couldn’t believe it yourself that the one anonymous commenter on your videos was a pro-hero, your favorite nonetheless. though, it makes you a little nervous since your face is plastered all over different social platforms because you’re only active on that app. you don’t know where to go from there except squeal into your pillows. definitely flattered when you recall the many times he called you pretty on your vlogs.

as the rest dive deeper into his little ‘crush’ they even saw him comment on a few of your videos with compliments that sounded extra flirty. they teased him so hard saying how he looks like a creep especially with that profile. he’s never gonna hear the end of it. soon a new topic blows up that reads: GO FOR IT DYNAMIGHT

in his defense, if he were to give anyone an explanation, he thinks you have a really nice smile and a really soothing voice. also that you’re real cute and charming, that’s why he could watch and even rewatch all your content in one sitting. he couldn’t get enough of you, absolutely smitten. even had to ask kirishima how to turn on notifications for an account in the guise of turning it on for his agency's tiktok.

you’re also the only account he’s following that’s not a cooking channel or a pro-hero. and yeah it’s basically all that, a crush. not that he expects you to actually give him a chance, he’s happy just seeing your content.

however, the poor (not really) bakugou is actually unaware of the whole situation of his ‘tiktok crush’ trending since he was finishing a mission. only finding out when he got a call from kirishima asking if he found a girlfriend already. “what the fuck are you on about?”

“your fans are talking about how you keep reposting videos of this one girl on tiktok. i mean, it’s kinda obvious if you’re dating.” and it hits him, quick. your username (the one he could only remember, really) flashes in his head, but he laughs it off. “nah nothin’ like that. think i could shoot my shot though?” he asks him and kirishima says, “haha! i think she already beat you to it.”

not knowing what he meant, he swiftly gets home, showers, and lays on his couch whipping his phone out of his pocket to search up your username. and there he was, staring at his phone, unable to stop the smile on his face when he sees the thumbnail of your new video. he opens it immediately and there you were, holding a dynamight figurine (a very limited one too!) close to your cheek that you’ve never shown before until now. you never thought to show it thinking he might see it and think of you as weirdo. it gave the opposite effect actually, even made him more confident because who would've thought your pretty collection had a 'random guy' in there (definitely not random for you at least).

bakugou immediately likes, reposts and adds it to his favorites. even screen recording the whole thing cause you never gave access to download your videos—it was a very special moment for him okay!

he then comments, ‘you can have the real thing too.’

a few minutes later it’s got your icon with a heart beside it. he chuckles, happy that you finally noticed him. beams when he gets a notification that you followed him back.

he’s definitely going to dm you after he calms down. just hopes this time you don't beat him to it again.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i love a katsuki with a crush i think it's so cute. but i love it even more that he's still confident about it!!! i like to think that reader probably has like 20k followers or something so pretty big but not as big as the others. the first time he met you he stumbles upon a video of you talking about the ice cream u just got and then he got hooked cause u were so cute when u were picking the flavor. PLEASE DO NOT SHARE THIS ON TIKTOK BTW >< also minors & ageless blogs please do not follow me!

[pathologicalreid]

merry christmas, please don't call | s.r.

in which Spencer pens an email to you, since you've already blocked his phone number

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: nondescript break up, described as spencer's fault, reader is mentioned to have worn lipstick, yearning, word count: 907 a/n: and the worst part is!!! that we both know!!!!! we are doing kind of an unofficial margotmas/reidmas! really i've just been building up christmas ideas for a while lol

To: xreader@gmail.com From: Spencer.Reid@gmail.com Subject: Merry Christmas

Hey,

Spencer shook his head, that was too casual.

Good afternoon,

Much too formal.

Hello,

Too rigid.

Darling,

I passed by the house that you told me you adored. It used to be your dream house; you’d always show me the Zillow listing whenever you were browsing. The owners didn’t put up their Christmas lights this year, and it looks like they’re getting ready to sell. I haven’t been online to check the listing, that was always your thing rather than mine.

Do you remember the house? It had four bedrooms for our kids to sleep in and a library with stained-glass windows. You always told me the stained-glass windows were your favorite feature of my apartment. I keep it covered now; the colored glass just serves as a painful reminder of you.  

Emily called me last week. I suppose no one told her that we weren’t together anymore because she asked what our holiday plans were. I haven’t made any since you left. I’m finding myself hopeful that we get called on a case over Christmas so that I don’t need to be surrounded by the world celebrating while I continue to wallow in the memories of you and me.

That’s all I have now: memories. We made so many of them over the course of three years that I don’t know what to do with them. I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that having an eidetic memory is a curse just as much as it is a blessing, but with you gone, I know it’s more of a curse. I see you when I close my eyes as if your features have been permanently tattooed on the back of my eyelids, but when my eyes are open, everything is exponentially worse.

You left in such a hurry, so you were bound to leave a few things behind. When I went to make a cup of coffee and found one of your mugs in my cabinet, JJ and Penelope had to practically scrape me off the kitchen floor. There was still a lipstick smudge on it, a piece of our history the dishwasher couldn’t quite wash off. Your necklace was on the bedside table, though maybe that was left behind on purpose. I wish we could go back to the day I gave it to you, you could wear the same green dress, and maybe work wouldn’t get in the way. If I could, I’d call you to ask why you left it behind, but you’ve blocked my number.

There was no need for you to leave me things to remember you by, how could I ever forget you?

I’ve been finding myself grateful that you got so close with Garcia during our relationship, she doesn’t give me any explicit details on your life when she updates me. I never ask, but she knows I want to hear.

It’s a rather odd phenomenon to have once had someone who you shared everything with, only to one day find they want nothing to do with you. I always find myself reaching for my phone to send to a message, or leaning over to show you a line in my book, but you’re not there anymore. I don’t hold any malice in my heart for you, even after you called it all off. My biggest regret is that I couldn’t be the boyfriend that you needed, and I’m proud of you for realizing you wanted someone better. I’m sorry I couldn’t be better.

Maybe I still have some growing up to do. There might be some sort of emotional stunting as a result of my less-than-orthodox upbringing and education, which makes sense when you consider two of my most common nicknames, “boy genius” and “kid.” One day I could find myself in the same place you were, ready for more, but maybe then I’ll be with someone who is ready for the same things as I am. She’ll never be you though. You’ll always hold that special place in my heart.

Speaking of my upbringing, my mom keeps asking about you. Each time we talk on the phone, she asks if she can talk to you, but I’ve been telling her that you’re still working or are otherwise preoccupied. I know I shouldn’t lie to her, but if I tell her, she’ll inevitably forget, and I’ll be forced to recount the story of how I lost the best thing to ever happen to me forever. That would be my eternal damnation. There’s Sisyphus and Tantalus and Spencer Reid, slowly becoming nothing but a myth. I wonder if I’m a story that you tell your friends at O’Keefe’s.

I go there sometimes, just to see if I can catch your gaze, but you’re never there.

I know this is your favorite holiday, and I don’t intend to ruin your holidays with my message. I suppose I just needed to see if you still dream about that house. To see if you still dream of me the way I dream of you.

Merry Christmas,

Spencer

He clicked send nervously, ready to snap his work-issued laptop shut when it chirped with a notification. Surely you hadn’t responded that quickly. Spencer opened his inbox once more, checking the latest email.

To: Spencer.Reid@gmail.com From: mailer-daemon@googlemail.com Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)

Message blocked.

Your message to xreader@gmail.com has been blocked. See technical details below for more information.

[hellokittyish]

part one here.

★ thinking about mutual masturbation on facetime with ex!satoru which starts off with you just staring at him in some sort of daze, wondering what on earth possessed you to pick up the call in the first place. this is a mistake, you know that... so why aren't you hanging up already?

but before you can dwell too long on the answer to that question, your train of thought is rudely interrupted by a particularly loud moan echoing through the speaker.

“mmh… you actually didn’t decline for once," the white-haired menace gasps out, the slick sounds of his hand gliding up and down his cock only picking up in volume as he lays eyes on you. “shit— you don't know how much i've missed seein’ that pretty face of yours, baby.”

“you’re so shameless, satoru.” you mutter, lacing your tone with as much disdain as you can muster; but the way your own hand somehow snakes its way beneath the waistband of your sweatpants and into your panties tells an entirely different tale of how this whole situation is really making you feel.

“yeah,” he muses in an unapologetic hum, making a show of tilting the camera down to give you a better view of where he's currently thumbing his leaky, blushing tip. “but… ah— so are you, otherwise you would’ve blocked my new number the second i sent you that dick pic.”

“w-well how do you know i wasn't about to press the block button right when you called me and i accidentally clicked accept instead?” you shoot back through teeth which are clenched partly in annoyance and partly in an effort to hold back letting your own pleasure show on your face.

“nah, don’t give me that bullshit,” satoru snorts amusedly, leaning in closer to the screen and tilting his head to the side, snowy lashes fluttering seductively as his bright eyes stare knowingly into yours. “if you’re not enjoying this, then i want you to show me that your hands aren’t in your pants right now rubbing that pretty little pussy.”

shit. of course he'd be able to see through you that easily — he is your ex, after all. but no... you can’t let him win just yet. so, as subtly as possible, you pull your hand from your panties and hold it up to the phone screen, hoping against hope that the darkness of your room hides the wetness of your palm.

“hah. nice try, baby,” he drawls smugly, smiling so wide now that both of his annoyingly cute dimples are on full display; and it’s deliberate, too. he knows full well they were always your weakness. “...but i can see your sweet juices coating those cute fingers from here.”

and he knows he has you right where he wants you when you still don't hang up the call like you both know you should, instead just shoving your hand right back into your panties and rubbing messy circles over your clit while keeping direct eye-contact with him — trying to beat him at his own game, are you? oh, how he's missed you.

so he picks up the pace of his jostling fist around his cock, candy-pink lower lip caught between his pearly teeth as he tries to catch even a small glimpse of your bare skin through the screen; and god, only you could make him act this pathetic, this desperate. "fuck... please, pretty, y'gotta give me something to work with here. h-how about you pull your top up just a little for toru, hm?"

and you've already let this escalate too far to back out now, so you decide to throw caution to the wind and tug at the edge of your oversized tee just enough so that your bare tits spring free, courtesy to your preference for not wearing a bra around your apartment.

"o-oh, just look at those. i missed my girls s'much. bet you wish they were in my mouth right now, huh?" satoru rasps out, balls tightening to an almost painful degree as he reaches down to pay the heavy, neglected sacs some attention by gently fondling them.

and you, having finally caved and slid a finger into your fluttering hole, can only respond with a soft whine as you reach up to knead a breast with your free hand, the image of his skilled mouth suckling on them like he always used to making your much-too-empty cunt clench around your digit with need.

and that singular sweet, sweet sound from your lips that he's been deprived of hearing for months is all it takes for him to finally bust a load all over his chest and hand, goopy white streaks tainting his previously unmarred pale skin as his entire body trembles with a pleasure only you can give him.

and when he eventually manages to compose himself enough to glance back down at the facetime and realize that you're still trying to reach your own climax, your meek little fingers clearly not enough to finish the job, satoru has the absolute audacity to lean right in close to the screen and mutter out a cheeky…

“hey, if y'want me to come over and help you with that then all you gotta do is agree to get back together with me, baby.”

taglist: @haruhatake @sheismaryy @jxeon @bonneyzsk @yozora7154 @depositodeporradogojo @ifyournameischoisanpleaseloveme @anthy-j-ander @sugarcoatedsoul @moncher-ire @fwxyz00 @trishiepo0 @just-lilita @beenathembo @channnee @tul1ps1 @awoodsysimp411 @vera4luv @silllly-jokesterr @mastermasterlist1p1 @yourfaveava @rllyobsessedgirlie @cherrycel @tomiokas-lunchbox @iwaizumisloverrr @citruswriter @jasminelee324 @kocho-catt @azewritessillystuff @suggestmename @greentea-ellie @banksxxnik @feelingtoosilly @nepotti @nonamevenus @barking4dogs-fy @mihoonz @crazytrash @phoenixflames498 @starlightmid @k0z3me @cakenpiewhyohmy @wh1msycal @resfrio @ersharyzst @loveyislost @supernovacoffeestop @ying47

[ivyues]

Unfiltered Beauty: Stray Kids' reactions to their S/O not wearing makeup often

Bang Chan

You sat on the couch in Chan’s studio, scrolling through your phone while he adjusted the levels on his track. You’d come straight from home in a hoodie, hair tied back, and no makeup on.

“Can you stop?” Chan suddenly said, leaning back in his chair.

“Stop what?” you asked, looking up at him in confusion.

“Being so distracting,” he said, smirking.

You furrowed your brow. “I’m literally sitting here doing nothing.”

“Exactly,” he replied, spinning his chair toward you. “You’re sitting there, looking all natural and gorgeous, and it’s ruining my focus.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. “So, you’re saying I look better without makeup? That’s just a roundabout way of dissing my makeup skills.”

“No way!” he protested, leaning his elbow on the armrest of his chair as he grinned at you.. “Your makeup skills are great, but you don’t need them. You’re stunning just as you are.”

“Nice save,” you teased, laughing as his grin widened.

Lee Know

Lee Know leaned against the doorway, watching you on the floor surrounded by his beloved cats. You were wearing one of his oversized shirts, your hair loose, and your face completely bare. Dori lay sprawled in your lap, soaking up your affection, while Soonie eagerly chased the string you were wiggling.

“What?” you asked when you noticed him staring, your voice tinged with curiosity.

“You look so…at home,” he said softly, a smile tugging at his lips.

You looked down at his shirt, then at the cats. “Well, your clothes are comfy, and your cats worship me. What can I say? I fit right in.”

He chuckled, walking over to crouch next to you. His hand gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “No makeup, messy hair, and still managing to outshine everything in this room,” he murmured, his eyes warm as they met yours.

You smirked, leaning closer. “Even Dori?”

His lips twitched into a grin. “Okay, let’s not get carried away.” He pressed a quick kiss on your lips before scooping Dori off your lap. “But you’re definitely a close second.”

Changbin

Steam billowed out of the bathroom as you stepped into the bedroom, wrapped in a fluffy towel. Your damp hair fell over your shoulders, and your freshly scrubbed face glowed naturally. Changbin looked up from his phone and froze, his eyes lingering on you.

“What?” you asked, shifting under his gaze as you walked to the closet.

“Nothing,” he said, setting his phone aside. “I just realized something.”

You turned, curious. “What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear makeup around me,” he said thoughtfully, standing up and walking toward you.

You blinked. “Really? I mean, I only wear it for big events or when I’m feeling fancy. Otherwise, it’s too much work.”

His lips curved into a smile. “I like that. It feels like you’re showing me the most real version of yourself. That’s special.”

You softened at his words. “It’s not really a big deal, though.”

“It is to me,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. “You’re beautiful just the way you are. No makeup, no filters, just you.”

You smiled, leaning into his chest. “Thanks, Binnie. You’re pretty great, too.”

“Of course I am,” he teased. “But better get dressed before I spend the next hour telling you how amazing you are.”

Hyunjin

You walked out of your room wearing light makeup for a casual outing with Hyunjin. He looked up from his phone, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance.

“You’re wearing makeup?” he asked, standing up.

“Yeah, I felt like it today,” you replied, adjusting your jacket. “Why, does it look bad?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s just…you don’t usually wear it. It’s like seeing a rare art piece that’s been hidden in a museum vault.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You’re so dramatic, Hyunjin.”

He grinned, stepping closer to study your face. “Maybe, but it’s true. You’re already a masterpiece, whether it’s painted or not.”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re too much, you know that?”

“I know,” he said with a wink. “But you love me for it.”

Han

Han came home after a long day at the studio to find you in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you stirred something on the stove. You were wearing one of his hoodies, your face bare, and your hair in a messy bun.

“Hey,” he greeted, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

You turned your head to smile at him. “Hey, you’re home early.”

He rested his chin on your shoulder, inhaling the comforting scent of your shampoo. “You’re like a walking comfort zone.”

You chuckled. “Is that a compliment?”

“The best kind,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “No makeup, no stress, just you being perfect.”

Felix

You were tying your sneakers, ready to head out for a quick grocery run with Felix. As you stood up, he glanced at you, his eyes lighting up.

“You’re not wearing makeup?” he asked, smiling softly.

“Do I need it for the groceries?” you teased, grabbing your bag.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I love that about you. You don’t feel like you need to impress anyone.”

“Well,” you said, bumping his shoulder playfully, “I still want to impress you.”

He reached for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “You already impress me every single day. Makeup or not, you’re perfect.”

Seungmin

Seungmin was scrolling through his phone while you cleaned up after dinner. He paused on a photo of you from a recent formal event and held it up.

“This one’s nice,” he said.

“Thanks,” you replied, glancing at the screen. “I did the makeup myself.”

He grinned mischievously. “It’s good.”

“Good? Just good?” you said, pretending to be offended, crossing your arms.

He chuckled, his gaze softening. “I mean, you don’t really need it. You look better without it anyway.”

You smirked, lightly slapping the back of his head with the towel. “You’re lucky I like you, Seungmin.”

I.N

You felt exhausted, so you put on a little makeup to cover up the dark circles under your eyes before your boyfriend came over. When he arrived, he tilted his head, studying your face.

“You’re wearing makeup?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” you admitted, rubbing your arm. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I'm feeling tired and didn’t want to look like it too.”

He stepped closer, gently taking your hands. “You don’t need this,” he said with a small smile. “I like you the way you are, even when you’re tired or feeling off. You’re always my favorite person.”

You felt your heart swell at his words. “Thanks, Jeongin.”

He grinned, squeezing your hands. “Now come on. Let’s watch a movie and relax. We can also take a nap if you want.”

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

Didn't expect me to write more about Sol, did you? Honestly, I needed to do more research into his character, after all, since I kinda ignored him in the game as soon as Crowe showed up. Like, no wonder he did what he thought he had to do.  

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

I mixed a bit of canon and my headcanons for Crowe and Sol in this one—yep, once again! This time, I kept it focused on just four kinks to keep it short and sweet. I'm still learning about the BDSM community, and honestly, it's been really eye-opening.

A close friend (college roommate: adding on the fact she adores Sol—Sorry not sorry, love) of mine has been super helpful, sharing and explaining things about the BDSM scene to add more depth to my writing.

A lot of my inspiration comes from her, along with the Tumblr fanfic community and the original creator's work. I try to blend what feels true to the characters while throwing in my own twist. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Starting, I’ve noticed that TKATB fans have their unique preferences when it comes to Sol or Crowe.

For example, fans who gravitate toward Sol tend to enjoy the idea of him being dominant—whether it’s being in control of him or just envisioning him taking charge. It’s that mix of power and intensity that gets people excited. You know who you are, you freaks!

On the other hand, fans of Crowe are drawn to his reliability, his deep understanding, and his caring nature. He’s willing to guide you through anything, offering both emotional support and strength. It’s comforting, isn’t it? And yes, I’m a freak too—I get it.

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Naturally, I had to start with my man—Jericho, or Crowe, as he's known. He exudes a mysterious, almost savior-like presence, though the details are still unclear. I WANNA KNOW SO BAD.

His style is effortlessly sharp, and his quiet confidence makes him instantly trustworthy. Reliable, steady, and composed, Crowe is the perfect support when life feels overwhelming. His charm is subtle, blending good looks with an alluring personality—irresistible, without ever being flashy. 

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Crowe as kinky?

At first glance, no. Not. To a stranger, he’s too put together, with not even the faintest hint of anything unconventional beneath the surface. But as you get to know him, that answer begins to shift. Slowly, subtly, he reveals a side of himself that hints at complexity—an edge just beneath his polished exterior. However, don’t expect anything extreme or overtly wild.

What he does reveal is never too much but always just enough to leave you captivated—and maybe, just maybe, a little curious.

✑ Vanilla (Soft Dom…) 

For Crowe preferences! 

He's the ultimate soft, warm partner. Like, you just know he's all about the quiet, comforting vibes. No crazy power dynamics or rough kinks—he's all about that steady, affectionate love. It's Vanilla, but in the best way possible, full of layers. He’s not rushing anything, just enjoying the little things, taking his time, and making sure you feel heard and cherished. 

When you're with him, it's all slow and gentle—he’s not here for intense extremes. His love is patient, thoughtful, and wrapped in warmth. Every touch, every word, is like a soft caress, just so deliberate and tender. 

And honestly? There's no need for anything crazy. Crowe's happy to explore your connection, build that trust, and just savor the passion that grows naturally between you two. It's the kind of love that builds and lingers long after. 

Now… Crowe might be a soft dom—nah he IS A SOFT DOM.

Crowe’s not the type to push you past your limits just for the thrill of it. He’s not into playing mind games or testing how far he can take things. No, Crowe’s power is the quiet kind, the kind that makes you feel safe without even having to try. He knows the real strength is in taking care of someone, not in forcing them into anything they’re not ready for.  

When you’re with him, it’s like he’s always tuned into you, always listening, always aware of exactly what you need. He’s the guy who doesn’t take, but gives—gives you everything he can, with a level of care that’s almost overwhelming. And even though he’s gentle, don’t get it twisted—he’s still a tease. He’s the kind of man who’ll leave marks on your skin, a subtle reminder that you're his. But it's all in the way he leads, in that steady hand that takes yours, guiding you through every little moment.  

There’s nothing loud about Crowe—other than his moans and whining. I SWEAR he has pretty moans.

He doesn’t demand anything and doesn’t rush you, but he has this way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. When he touches you, it’s with a confidence that leaves you breathless but also comforted. He’ll press his forehead against yours, his hand guiding yours down to your stomach, just so you can feel his bulge inside you,how much he wants you, how much he’s thinking about you at that moment. 

There’s no need for words—just that connection, that intense eye contact that says everything.  

But yeah, he’ll also let you think you have the upper hand for a minute. Let you believe you’ve got him cornered, like you're finally taking control… only for him to flip the switch, regaining control without you even realizing.  

With Crowe, it’s not about begging or pleading for pleasure—it’s about your happiness, your satisfaction. His version of dominance is the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket, soft and cozy. He just wants to see you smile, hear you laugh—moan, and whine under him, and know that every moment spent with him is full of happiness.  

So, if you're into a soft dom who values deep emotional connection, tenderness, and affection, Crowe’s your man! He just wants you to trust him, to let go and let him care for you. Let him be there for you in every single way, in every moment. 

And in that, he gives you all the security you’ll ever need.

✑ Praise (giving + receiving)

Crowe is all about Praise, and affection through words. Imagine him pulling you close, whispering in your ear while his fingers gently trace patterns along your skin. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, look at how well you take me, love. That’s my girl, always so ready for me, aren’t you?” His words make you feel safe, wanted, and cherished.

He doesn’t wait for you to ask for reassurance—he gives it freely, letting you know how much he appreciates having you around, and how much he loves seeing you smile. And when it comes to your body? He knows every inch of it like he’s got a personal map of your every curve and spot. He might even joke, “No one will ever know you like I do. I’ve ruined you for everyone else, haven’t I?”

Crowe has this vibe about him, like he’s always hungry to make sure you're feeling amazing, but don’t forget to show him some love, too. He thrives on hearing you praise him, especially when you whisper how much you need him, and how much he’s doing for you. The sound of your voice, the words you say—they get to him, melt him down until his heart's pounding.

Now and then, he’ll pull back, checking in on you, “You okay? Am I pushing you too far?” It’s not just about the rush for him. He wants you to be comfortable, to be in sync with him as he takes you through everything, slow and steady, giving you all that love. “That’s it, you're doing so well,” he’ll say, his voice smooth like syrup, making sure you know you're adored.

But here’s the thing: if you keep praising him, or if you’re the one in control, just wait. Crowe’s mouth? It’ll get filthy. AND I MEAN FILTHY. He can’t help it, don't be mean now...

I mean, you can. You giving him head? Taking his cock deep inside your throat, feeling he's about to cum, then you pulled back, teasing him. He'll say, "Please, my love, you were doing so good on my cock—please, please, keep going, I need that tongue of yours."

One of his favorite things is when you’re so into it that he can just forget what you say and speak directly to you, but in a way that’ll make your body react before your mind even catches up. Like, he’ll whisper, “God, you taste so damn good. Missed me, huh? Just wanna be filled up, don't you?”

His words drip against you, his eyes dark with heat, like he's speaking to your body, not even acknowledging your moans. “Such a good fucking pussy. Always making me feel so damn good. Want me to stuff you full, hm?”

And when it’s all done? Crowe doesn’t just drop it and move on. He’s got aftercare down to an art. He’ll guide you through it, keep you close, making sure you’re okay, settled, and cared for, getting ready to do it all again whenever you’re ready!

✑ Experimentalist

Crowe is the kind of man who never wants to leave any stone unturned, especially when it comes to experiences.

There was something about him that screamed experimentalist—like he needed to try everything, no matter how wild or unconventional. When it came to relationships, he was always up for anything, which meant he'd probably had more relationship experiences than most people you knew. 

His mind is open, impossibly so, and he had an insatiable curiosity that could never be satisfied. He’d never form an opinion on something without diving in and getting his first-hand taste. If there was something new to try, something out-of-the-box—Crowe was there, ready to explore. 

And honestly? He didn’t even need you to ask twice. If you suggested something wild, he’d be all in—his enthusiasm infectious, his curiosity never-ending.

However, he's pretty vanilla when it comes to experimenting, so don't expect him to go TOO hardcore. If there's a kink suited to his taste and he masters it? Oh, Babe, you'll feel it—so much in fact.

Take ropes, for example. Blindfolds? Handcuffs? Oh, he is intrigued. But, again, don’t expect anything brutal. He isn't the type to be into floggers or paddles; no, pain isn't needed for his skills. It is his anticipation. The slow burn of him carefully tying you up, not in a rush, but with the kind of patience that made every moment last longer. 

When his hands hovered over your skin, it wasn’t just touch—it was electric. He’d make sure to linger, let his fingers graze over every inch, just enough to make you shiver, your breath hitching in the air between you. It wasn’t about hurting you, not at all. No, it was all about the build-up—the moment when the ropes or restraints were placed just so, tightening the tension between you both until it was practically unbearable. 

And then? When you finally let go, it was a release so sweet and steady that it left you breathless. No rushing, no quick fixes—just a slow, fulfilling pleasure.

Adding on, Crowe loved the idea of restraint. Whether for fun, for art, or for that extra little spark of excitement, there was something about having you completely at his mercy. 

And if you ever flipped the script? If he was the one getting tied up? Like I said, Crowe will be just as filthy when he lets his guard down. 

✑ Dacryphillia

Okay, hear me out. I know what you’re thinking—"Crowe? He would never hurt me. Why would he want to see me cry?" And I get it, really. This is one of those wild ideas but just stick with me for a second.

You know how he’s all about emotions and deep connections, right? Get it?

He gets this deep fascination with what you feel and show, especially when it’s raw. Here’s where it gets interesting: Dacryphilia. Yeah, I’m talking about that thing where someone gets... well, aroused by tears, by the sound of you sobbing, the whole mess of emotions. 

So, let’s imagine this: You’re begging him, pleading for more. Your face is a mess of emotions, eyes watery, tears rolling down your cheeks. And yeah, he’s gonna ask if you’re okay because that’s the kind of man he is—always checking, always making sure. But if you keep begging for more? Oh, that’s when it gets dangerous. 

Each desperate plea of yours, each tremor in your voice, just fuels this fire inside him, an all-consuming fire. His eyes? They’re practically glowing, deep blue, and locked on you like he's drowning in you, in every little thing you’re feeling.

You can feel him there, so close you can almost taste his breath on your skin. His lips brush against your ear, a soft, teasing whisper sending shivers down your spine. "So desperate for me already, huh? We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet..." His voice is low, and dangerous, like he’s savoring every second of this.

You know he’s enjoying this. Every inch of him is hooked, and once he has you like this, there’s no going back.

Crowe’s could be teasing you for what feels like hours, driving you wild with a mix of pleasure and frustration. He’s pulled every bit of sensation from you, your body trembling with each orgasm, each touch—until you’re left aching for more. You’ve come undone on his fingers, his tongue, but now, you’re desperate in a way that makes your chest ache. You need him, inside of you, filling you up, but he’s holding back. Just barely, he brushes against you, grinning at the whine that slips from your lips.

His head teases your entrance, and you can’t stop yourself from begging, voice shaky, "Please... Please, please." You repeated. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they fall helplessly. The emptiness without him feels unbearable.

Crowe tilted his head, the smirk on his face practically dripping with playful mockery. “Just please?” He dragged the word out slowly, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me what you want. Can’t do anything unless you say it. What is it you’re begging for?” His hand slid up your stomach, hand pushing lightly as if testing the waters. 

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker, more calculating. “You want me to fill you up, don’t you?”

His grin stretched wider as you stumbled over your words, desperate and disordered, pleading for more. He could tell you were unraveling, and it only pushed him further, each whimper was like a small victory. 

“You’re falling apart, love,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need... just say the word.” You could barely focus as the desperation built into your chest. His control over you was unnerving, yet exhilarating. The tears on your cheeks were a mix of frustration and need, a silent scream for him. 

“I need you, Crowe. Please...” Your voice was broken, but he was the one who was in control, studying the way you reacted like a willing experiment.

Crowe’s hand lifts gently to your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. He gives you a soft grin, his voice low and teasing. “Already crying for me, huh?” he murmurs, almost amused. His thumb, slick with your tears, slips past your lips, letting you taste the salty remnants of your emotions. "We’ve just started," he adds, a soft chuckle escaping him. 

Before you can respond, his hips jerk forward, pushing into you with one swift, forceful motion. The shock of it makes your breath catch, and Crowe can’t help but smirk, his eyes glinting with that dangerous, experimental gleam.

Every move, calculated and deliberate, is part of his twisted exploration. And you? You’re the willing subject.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol is described as a “stinky basement-dwelling yandere”—ngl, this alone made me laugh. He’s a quiet kid, the one who lingered at the edges of every room, observing, never quite fitting in.

Beneath his reserved exterior was a complexity most couldn’t fathom. He’s incredibly smart, with a sharpness that slipped through his words when he spoke, though he rarely bothered to. His talents leaned toward the arts, paintings, and writings.

And yet, at the end of the day, Sol isn’t exactly smooth. He was hopelessly inexperienced when it came to relationships. He gets no bitches, and honestly, he probably doesn’t even try. But in his inexperience is a certain rawness, and once you did get to know him, he’ll flirt or charm you. But before, he just watched and wanted.  

Now, let’s address the question: Can you see Sol as kinky?

Yes, let’s not sugarcoat it—he is kinky asf. Of course, he is. There was no way someone as quiet and repressed as Sol didn’t have a horny side, one he tried to keep buried but couldn’t fully hide due to his love for you. 

✑ Switch (A Pervert…)

Now, about Sol’s... preferences. 

From reading his relationship information card and playing the game. He is a paradox, a Switch in every sense of the word. He didn’t neatly fit into the mold of “always dominant” or “forever submissive.” Oh no, that would be far too mundane for someone like him. He's not a standard yandere people.

Sol is a man of extremes, a “pervert” in the most endearing, shameless sense of the word. He believed in living freely, without the shackles of societal expectations or traditional constraints. Ethics, morality, conventional roles—he’d toss them aside without hesitation if they stood in the way of his desires.   

When he takes the reins as Dominant, Sol is the type to lean into theatrics, pushing boundaries with a devilish grin and that mischievous gleam in his eyes. He had a talent for making the experience unforgettable, for making you feel as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you. But when the tables turned, when Sol found himself in the more submissive role, he’d throw himself into it with equal fervor. 

He’d challenge you to prove your worth, tease and push until you stepped up to the plate, and then—when you finally did—he’d surrender so completely that it'll feel like a victory worth savoring.  

To Sol, sex and relationships weren’t just about power dynamics or tradition. They were a playground for exploration, a place where the only rule was to follow what felt right. With his “anything goes” mentality, Sol turned every interaction into a kaleidoscope of passion and unpredictability. 

As mentioned, Sol, can’t help himself when it comes to you.

Let’s say he has this thing—Voyeuristic Disorder, to be precise, a fancy word for being a pervert. Dosn't care to see anyone else naked. Only you he wishes to see. He was obsessed with watching you, whether you knew it or not. In public or private, it didn’t matter.

He just liked being there, lurking in the shadows, soaking in every moment. Watching you do the most intimate things, completely unaware that he was there. 

There was something so exhilarating about seeing you—your bare skin, the way you moved, the little things you did when you thought no one was watching. He couldn’t resist. The way your body reacted, the sounds you made when you didn’t know he was there—it was all he needed. 

Deadass, I’m shocked that the creator of the game never added a specific scene where you were taking care of yourself in bed—you freak, oblivious to him sneaking a peek from the window, his hand on his cock, jacking himself off, doing exactly what he does best. Watching. 

He didn’t let societal norms dictate how he expressed himself or who he loved. He was unapologetically himself—messy, chaotic, and a little too intense for most people’s taste. But for those brave enough to step into his world, you, well, if you picked him, that is.

Sol will offer an experience unlike any other: one filled with unrelenting honesty, unbridled passion, and a love that refuses to be anything less than extraordinary.  

✑ Praise (Receiving)

Sol isn't the type of man you’d peg as desperate for validation—at least, not at first glance. His sharp, confident exterior gave the impression of someone who had the world at his feet, who didn’t flinch under pressure or crack beneath judgmental stares. 

But peel back the layers of this supposed nonchalant and cool type of man, and you’d find a truth that was much more human, much more raw. Sol craved praise. Why? Perhaps it was the lack of it throughout his life. His track record for romance was, let’s say, less than impressive. Not because he lacked charm or good looks—he had both in spades—but because his overbearing aura and unapologetic eccentricities tended to drive most people away. 

They didn’t understand him, couldn’t see past the way he challenged conventions. He wore his "loser" title like armor. After all, who cared if he didn’t have admirers lined up at his door? He didn’t need anyone... right? Yet, when someone, such as you, did manage to offer him an honest compliment, something sincere, it was like watching a dam break. 

His confident smirk would falter for a second, his eyes softening, betraying the vulnerability he worked so hard to conceal. Sol wasn’t accustomed to receiving love—real, genuine love—and when it came, it hit him like a truck

✑ Masochist

The first time you noticed Sol’s tendency to endure pain, you’d thought it was just his stubborn nature. He’s always been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve when it came to you—raw, unfiltered, and unapologetically vulnerable. But as time went on, you began to see something deeper beneath that tough, rebellious exterior. 

Sol wasn’t just someone who endured pain; he seemed to embrace it…? almost thrive on it, especially when it comes to you.

Sol is, without a doubt, a masochist. Not in the twisted, sadistic sense, but in an almost heartbreaking way. He’d do anything to please you, to earn your attention—even if it meant enduring the unendurable. 

He could never be a sadist. No, he loved you too much to ever inflict pain on you, physically or emotionally. The very thought of hurting you would make his stomach churn. Instead, he channeled all his devotion into being by your side, no matter the cost.

There were moments when his tendencies became painfully obvious. Like he gets into fights back to back, defending himself or you—for example, the movie theater bathroom or the Campus library (With or without.)

You hadn’t/have even been there to witness it—Sol hadn’t wanted you to see him like that, bruised and bloody. But when you found out later, he brushed it off with that crooked grin of his, the one that hid just how far he’d go for you. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, wiping the blood from his lip. “They deserved it for talking about you like that.”

Or that time with Crowe. It had been an innocent moment, just you laughing at something Crowe said, but to Sol, it might as well have been a dagger to his chest. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. He didn’t want to feel that way—jealousy mixed with self-loathing—but he couldn’t help it. Watching you walk away with someone else, even for a moment, was unbearable. 

It wasn’t that he enjoyed the pain; it was just that he could handle it, even when it tore him apart inside.  

And in the quiet, intimate moments, Sol’s masochistic streak became something else entirely. If you picked him willingly, He’ll trust you, and loved you, enough to let down every last defense he had. He didn’t just endure pain; with you, he could find meaning in it. 

A sharp bite, nails dragging down his back—he shivered under your touch, his body responding in ways he didn’t fully understand but didn’t question. For him, it wasn’t just about the sensation; it was about the connection, the way it brought him closer to you.  

Masochism, for Sol, wasn’t about pain tolerance. It wasn’t about how much he could take. It was about the way he found a strange, twisted kind of comfort in it. The pain wasn’t the point; it was the context, the giver—you. Sol would never seek out pain for its own sake, but if it was for you, if it meant being close to you, he’d endure anything.  

Even in the game, he seemed to attract hardship like a magnet, always the one taking the hits—physically and emotionally. Whether it was the bullies who thought he was an easy target or the way he seemed to hurt himself just to prove his devotion to you, Sol carried it all with a quiet, unshakable resolve. Because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t about the pain. It was about you.  

And he’d never stop. For Sol, loving you wasn’t just a choice—it was a part of who he was. If being close to you meant enduring the worst the world could throw at him, he’d take it all with a smile. Because that’s who Sol is. A damn masochist.  

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

✑ Somnophillia 

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Everyone could see this coming from a mile away—there was simply no other possibility. Sol, in all his twisted complexity, had long blurred the line between obsession and affection, his love taking on forms most would never dare to comprehend. 

Some might accuse him of holding darker urges, like necrophilia, drawn to the lifelessness of the dead. But no, that isn’t Sol. Despite his obsessions, there was a deep-rooted sentimentality within him—a refusal to let go, to lose. If anything, he had made it clear in his own hauntingly poetic way: he’d rather die with you than live without you. 

Yet, that didn’t mean his desires were any less unnerving. No, Sol’s particular brand of affection manifested in somnophilia, a fascination with the vulnerability of sleep, the beauty of your unconscious form. To him, those moments were sacred—your body relaxed, your mind adrift in dreams. It was when he felt closest to you, unguarded and free from the chaos of the waking world.  

Before your relationship, it started innocuously enough—or so it seemed. He’d find ways to end up at your apartment, invited by some pretense or perhaps even through sheer charisma. And then, ever so subtly, he’d lace your drink with something to make you drowsy, to keep you from suspecting as his fingers ghosted on you. 

You lay there, utterly still, utterly serene, your chest rising and falling with the kind of peaceful rhythm that seemed to still the chaos of the world around you.  

It was maddening, the way you looked so untouched by the noise that haunted him, your lips slightly parted, the barest whisper of breath escaping them. Every exhale was a siren call, soft and unassuming, but it gripped him like a vice.  

His gaze wandered, helplessly drawn down the curve of your cheek to your lips. They looked soft, and inviting in a way that felt almost cruel. He wanted to press his own to them, to taste whatever peace you’d found and see if he could borrow just a fraction of it for himself.  

But it wasn’t just your lips. His eyes traced lower, following the lines of your body, the way your clothes clung to you, hinting at the form beneath. He shouldn’t be thinking like this—he knew he shouldn’t. And yet the thought of you, warm and pliant beneath him, invaded his mind, unrelenting.  

He swallowed hard, trying to shake it off, but the more he fought, the more vivid the thoughts became. The sound of your soft sighs, the way you’d move under his touch, how you’d look at him—not like this, not sleepily and unaware, but awake, wanting.  

God, he was losing it.  

Sol leaned back, running a hand through his hair, forcing his gaze away from you for a moment. But it didn’t matter—your image was burned into his mind, and there was no escape. Watching you sleep was his guilty pleasure, though his guilt barely lasted long enough to stop him from pressing further. 

Once the two of you were together, the dynamics shifted, but only slightly. Sol’s obsession deepened, and the lines of consent became more of a gray haze in his mind. To him, love was devotion—complete and all-encompassing. And if you loved him, shouldn’t you accept him entirely? Shouldn’t you trust him to care for you, even when you weren’t awake to see it? 

He was careful, always so careful with you, so don’t worry! 

His lips found their way to the sensitive curve of your inner thigh, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second of this quiet moment. You stirred faintly, a sleepy whimper escaping your lips as the warmth of his mouth brushed against you, teasing and tender.

Sol’s hands gripped your hips gently but firmly; his fingers splayed across your skin to hold you in place. You tried to shift, your body instinctively responding to the soft, wet pressure of his tongue on your needy cunt, but his strength was unyielding.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in the stillness. One hand slid up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering for a moment as he marveled at the serene expression you wore, so unaware of the devotion he poured into every touch. “You’re even more beautiful like this,” he breathed, his words an intimate confession meant only for the dark.

To Sol, this meant everything. 

This was the essence of love itself—intimacy beyond words, a bond that transcended anything others could hope to understand. He wasn't like anyone else; he knew that, and perhaps that’s what made this feel so special. So sacred. There was a quiet possessiveness in the way he worshiped you, a deep yearning to etch himself into every corner of your being, to ensure no one else could ever touch the part of you that belonged to him.

And as you stirred again, a soft moan escaping your lips, Sol smirked against your skin, the faintest edge of smug satisfaction curling at the corner of his mouth. You might not fully wake, but you’d feel him—his touch, his adoration, eventually his cock. You’d know, even in sleep, that you were his world.

To be with him, you’d have to accept all of him. Every tender smile, every soft whisper... and every shadowed obsession that came with it. 

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── · 

[ripplestitchskein]

What I loved most about Sinsmas is how well it’s setting up what will be the probable trajectory of Season 3 while resolving the conflicts of Season 2.

Octavia and Blitz are set on a similar path, realizing that Stolas needs more than they can give him, but not because they aren’t enough but because he has a mental illness. This conflict is setup explicitly to tie in with Barbie, Blitz will realize that whatever happened probably wasn’t as much his fault as he thinks, she just needed more than he could give alone. So I stand by the speculation that resolving Stolas and Blitz next season is going to be directly paralleled by Blitz and Barbie but will at the same time bring Octavia and Blitz into an accord.

Stolas will be getting several more reality checks and will spiral pretty hard, but I am holding on to faith that we will get a happy medium between getting proper treatment and reconciling his relationship with Blitz. I think Sinsmas did a great job setting up him as not realizing his continued unhappiness, even though he got everything he wanted with Blitz, is not a reflection on their relationship being ill suited but because he does have a mental illness that he is not treating properly or sharing with those around him. Blitz sidestepping the horse backstory while Stolas pulls back on asking him for help getting his meds was a perfect and succinct way to show this upcoming conflict.

Just excellent visuals with that all around. Blitz being the one to snuggle and try to be close to him while Stolas is the one closed off and refusing to relent was really solid. I would bet on this being the opening imagery of S3, some rehashing of Blitz trying but Stolas remaining closed off and that leading to a split that is slowly repaired over the course of the season, ending with them finally embracing each other.

The subtle cues from the imps of hell during the domesticity montage also great. Just this hatred Hell has for Stolas and how they will have to fight to be together. Like this was echoed in the fight with Andy as well, Stolas succumbing to being swallowed alive by a monster and Blitz going after him. Depression metaphor wow. The fight itself could be echoed in S3 too but this time with them working together.

And then everything with Millie, like her still not being on the same page when it comes to a family with kids while Moxxie and Blitz are opposed. Her reassuring Moxxie that her not wanting this doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him, and how that will play through S3.

Seeing Loona taking more responsibilities and stepping in for her father, seeing her with friends excited about board games. Too cute. I don’t know where she’ll go in S3 but I love her development so far and how they’ve taken a quieter approach to her parallels with Octavia and Stolitz.

Just a really great season finale.

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 20: Massage

Today, you get to give your boss a nice massage. I hope you enjoy it, she will.

Length 1.9K

Solar X Mreader

You come home, sighing after another day of work; as soon as you’re through the door, you head to your bed and collapse. Your body aches; you’ve spent the day running around trying to support your boss, Solar. You drift off to sleep. There were a million things you wanted to do, but sleep took over, and you awakened the following day. You shower and get dressed before heading off to work. When you get to your desk, you see a note from Solar; you groan, imagining what she could possibly want at this time. You pick the note up and read it, “Hey, I’ve seen you working pretty hard these past few weeks. As thanks for all your work I’m sending you to a resort. Enjoy your paid time off. The stuff for your trip is in the top left drawer.” You crack a smile, happy that it wasn’t more work. You open the drawer, and much like she said, it’s there, along with all the other information you need. You notice the flight is tomorrow. You work hard and finish the day before packing at home. In the early morning of the next day, you're on a flight, and by one p.m., you’re at the resort. 

It’s not until you’re making your way to your room that you notice that you haven’t seen a man there at all. Every worker and guest you saw was a woman; they were beautiful women. Stepping into your room, you find a note in the middle of your bed. You lay down and grab it, “Out by the pool is a special reward for you.” The message had lipstick on it; you begin to consider why Solar would do that when you realize this trip might just be work. You sigh and change into a pair of swim trunks before heading to the pool, where you spot her. Solar was lounging by the pool, wearing a tight blue bikini. Despite wearing a wide-brim straw hat and sunglasses, you could immediately tell it was Solar. She seems to be aware of your presence, too, as she lifts her head and turns toward you. She waves you over. You sigh before walking over to your boss. 

She smiles at you, “Hey there, welcome to my resort. What do you think?” You stay silent and stare at Solar; she could be insufferable sometimes.  

You look her over quickly as you speak, “Was it really necessary to make me think this was a vacation?” You ask, noting the way her bikini clung to her, hugging her modest chest and the high waist bottoms, making her beautiful legs look longer. 

“Don’t sound so disappointed. You’re here with me.” That wasn’t something that excited you, even if Solar was wearing a bikini. You just knew she would want you to take care of things while you were here. Seeing her in a bikini was a change of pace, though. The only time you had seen more skin from her was when you walked in on her changing; while it was something that you couldn’t get out of your head, it was also something that didn’t make up for the work she had you do. Solar smiles and takes off her straw hat, placing it on the lounge chair beside her. She adjusts her hair, making an effort to show off the sides of her tits. 

Solar pulls on your arm, having you come closer to her. “Oh wow, you’ve gotten so strong. You could use these hands for something nice, and I know just the thing.” Solar holds onto your arm, reaching to the small table beside her and grabbing a bottle of oil. “You wouldn’t mind helping me with this, would you?” You already know she’s just asking to sound polite. She wouldn’t let you refuse. 

She places the bottle in your hand and turns onto her stomach. You glance at her full ass, getting hard as you see the piece of flesh shake as she adjusts herself. You try to focus on the task at hand and cover your hands in the oil, pouring some on her back as well. “Oh wait, let me get this off.” Solar blurts out just as you’re about to begin. She unhooks her bikini top and places her hands back at her side. You see her breasts bulge outward as she lays flat. You begin at the top, massaging the oil into her skin; your rough grip and the pressure you apply make Solar squeak out soft moans.

Listening to her moan keeps your cock hard; your boss was moaning because of you. You move down Solar's back, kneading it and making her moans continue. Your cock twitched each time she moaned, and the longer you stared at her body, the more you wanted her. Solar glances at you, noticing the hungry look in your eyes. “Why don’t you get my legs too?” You stop, looking at her legs before nodding. Starting at the bottom, you slowly make your way up her calves and to her thighs; you listen to Solar hum in approval as she feels your hands squeeze her thighs. “Oh, that feels so good. Keep going.” Solar moves her legs apart slightly, her breathing getting heavy as she gives you another order. “Make sure to get every part.” You take a deep breath as you move to her inner thigh, your fingers rubbing against her clothed slit. Solar moans, refusing to hide her voice as she feels your hand rub against her. You move up, kneading her ass and making her moan as you massage her. Solar’s flesh jiggles once you let go, settling slowly. You’re getting harder, beginning to imagine fucking your boss.

Solar continues to glance at you before finally deciding to make another move. She takes off her sunglasses and moves onto her side, denying you a look at her breast by using her arm to cover herself. Solar stares at your hard-on and smirks, “Is that for me? Are you going to give me another kind of massage?” She says in a teasing voice. As you try to explain away your bulge, Solar moves onto her back. “Get my back, will you?” She moves her hand away from your chest, revealing her small tits to you. You watch as your boss moves her hands to her bikini bottom, taking them off and throwing them away. She wasn’t bothered being naked in front of you at all. “Well? Get started.” You pour the tanning oil onto Solar’s stomach, kneading it into her skin, moving from the center outward. She coos as she feels your hands move upward to ward her breasts. You try to avoid them, but she grabs your hands and moves them up. “Don’t be afraid; I need you to help me.” You knead her breast, listening to her moans yet again. You’re at full mast as you're touching your boss’s breasts. Solar can feel herself getting wet, enjoying your touch. Once you’re done, you begin to move down her body, covering the front of her powerful thighs.

The young woman reaches for your hands again, “I think you’re forgetting a spot.” She says, moving your hands to her inner thigh, right by her cunt. YOu nod and begin to massage Solar’s legs again, glancing at her perfectly shaven cunt. Your hand grazed her slit, making her coo, “Oh, that’s it. Right there.” You rub your hands against her slit, making Solar moan. You wanted to fuck her; it was the only thought in your head as you she moaned your name.

Solar smiles and reaches for your shorts as your hand runs across her slit; she moans your name louder as she feels you push a finger into her slit. Returning the favor as quickly as she can, Solar pulls your shorts down and runs her hand along your hard cock. You both moan, attracting the attention of the other guests. “Don’t think about them; this is normal here.” Solar tells you as she rubs her palm against the tip of your cock. She grinds against your hand, wanting you to go deeper, and her moans get louder. You mouse your other hand to grope her breasts, kneading them. Solar arches her back, reveling in the pleasure. 

She could feel the precum staining her hand and stopped stroking your cock to taste it; she hummed happily, licking her lips before pulling you in closer and swallowing your cock. The pleasure becomes too much for you to focus on fingering Solar, and you pull your fingers out, grabbing her head instead and pushing her against your pelvis. Your boss takes you easily, your cock ramming the back of her throat as she bobs her head. Her tongue runs from side to side as she bobs her head. Solar was not going to let you go; she moved her hands to your thighs, grabbing them as she sucked your cock. Your cock began to throb because of her, you were reaching your climax, and she didn’t care. Just as you were about to warn her, you cum, filling her mouth with your semen. She gags as her mouth fills up but quickly recovers, taking every drop from you. Solar pulls away slowly, opening her mouth with a smile as she shows you your cum. She swallows your cum, showing you a now empty mouth before dragging you onto the lounge chair.

Solar straddles you, grinding herself against your cock. “Mmm, fuck.” She groans. Solar places her hands on your chest, rubbing it as she feels your cock throb against her slit. “Let’s get down to business.” Solar raises herself, grabbing your cock and pressing it against her entrance. She coos, lowering herself onto your cock. “Oh, that’s it.” She moans, continuing to lower herself onto your cock. You grab Solar’s waist and drag her down, completely engrossed by the pleasure you’re getting from her tight cunt. You lean in and kiss her neck, leaving marks on her as she begins bouncing on your cock. Solar holds you against her as she moves along your shaft. You squeeze her ass, kneading the soft flesh and making Solar’s moans grow even louder. You lift and drop Solar onto your cock, reveling in the feeling of her cunt tightening around your cock. “Oh, fuck,” Solar groans, feeling your cock impale her. 

Your grip tightens, and Solar’s moans grow louder as she feels your nails dig into her flesh. You begin slamming your boss down on your cock, her pink walls clamping down around your cock as you begin to reach your climax. Solar holds you tightly, whining as she feels herself about to cum. “Solar, I’m cumming,” You groan as your cock begins to throb inside her. 

“Cum inside me! Do it!” You slam Solar down onto your cock, filling your boss with your cum. Something you never even thought about. Solar’s nails scratch your back as her body shudders from the pleasure; her climax hits her hard, making her run out of breath. “Oh shit,” she groans, feeling her pussy become full. “I think I’m going to need some more from you,” she smirks. “Let’s go back to your room.” You hold onto Solar’s ass as you lift her, carrying her to your room, every step causing your cock to move inside the young woman. Solar groans, holding onto you with a smile as you pass guests along your way to your room.

[ellecdc]

Matched

Finnick Odair x fem!victor!reader who are constantly introduced to each other [1.2k words]

CW: people trying to introduce Finnick and reader, Capitol behaviours (body modification, eating-purging-eating, no sense of propriety), fluff, a surprise

You’d come to expect a lot of things to happen when attending a party in the Capitol.

There would be people dressed to varying levels of near insanity. There would be people literally eating until they were sick, then forcing themselves to be sick so that they could continue eating. There would be people approaching you, asking you questions, and running their hands over your clothes or hair or jewelry or body as though having seen the most traumatic moments of your life aired on TV from the safety of their homes made you friends.

And there would always be people trying to introduce you to or set you up with their favourite victor; the Capitol’s darling.

“There you are, darling!” A rather reptilian looking woman you knew to go by Komoda greeted you as she approached; arm aggressively interlocked with another’s who didn’t appear to be all that willing to be there. “There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

You plastered on your show time smile and offered your hand to Capitol Darling Finnick Odair who accepted it readily, bowing his head slightly as he met your gaze.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“It always is in the Capitol.” You volleyed, smiling back over to the Capitol citizen who seemed very excited to be seeing two of her favourite victors intermingling. “Finnick and I have met a few times, actually.”

Komoda seemed rather bemused at the fact that the two of you had met and not immediately jumped each other's bones. “Oh… oh! Really?”

You hummed in the affirmative.

“Every year when we mentor new tributes.” Finnick explained.

Komoda tried to laugh. “Well, I just think that the two of you would get on rather well.”

“We get on fine.” You continued, feigning ignorance.

“The two of you would make a very handsome couple!” One of her friend’s chimed in, earning him nods of approval from the quickly forming group of spectators.

“Well, looks aren’t everything, are they?” You tried, and a few of the more…altered individuals seemed rather perplexed at the thought. “The two of us might not have anything in common.”

“That’s very true.” Finnick agreed. “Let’s see; how do you feel about the beach?”

“Too much sand; I’m shaking it out of everything I own for far too long afterwards. What’s your favourite pastime?”

“Swimming.” He answered.

“I never learned how.” You continued with pursed lips. “Least favourite season?”

“Winter. What’s your favourite holiday?”

“Christmas.”

Finnick hummed in displeasure before continuing. “Favourite animal?”

“Cats. Yours?”

“Dogs.”

You hummed in displeasure. “How do you feel about white chocolate?”

“Love it.” He replied easily; you scrunched your nose at him before he carried on. “What’s a dealbreaker for you?”

“People who like white chocolate.”

He pressed his lips into a flat line and nodded his head in understanding. “Very fair.”

You looked back over at Komoda and her friends to see them all gaping at the two of you.

“Sorry to disappoint, folks.” Finnick apologized with a shrug of his shoulder. “It’s apparently just not meant to be.”

“But…” Komoda started, looking rather crestfallen. “I…I was so sure!”

“You’re not the first to try to set us up.” You placated, placing a gentle hand over the scale-like jewels on the shoulder of her gown. “You probably won’t be the last, either.”

“Maybe the 29th time will be the charm, hm?” Finnick offered you with a wink, causing you to roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t hold your breath, Odair.”

“I can hold my breath for a very long time, sweetheart; I’m a world class swimmer, afterall.”

“Oh, you’re something alright.” You laughed as you turned to walk away, deciding then to begin your rounds of goodbyes before heading back to your suite.

You held the towel to your face for a few seconds, just taking a moment to breathe and enjoy the quiet, warmth, and serenity of your post-party ritual.

You were just about to pull the towel away when you felt gentle hands slide around your waist before you were being embraced between two strong arms.

“Long night?” He murmured into your shoulder before pressing a kiss to it.

You hummed in agreement and pulled the towel away from your face, smiling at Finnick in the reflection of the mirror.

“It always is in the Capitol.” You replied.

He offered you a knowing smile before pressing another kiss to your shoulder.

“Missed you.” He said before reaching around you to grab some makeup wipes to begin removing the work his own stylists put into his appearance tonight. “Anything interesting happen?”

You hummed noncommittally as you smoothed cream over your skin. “Not really. Someone tried setting me up with this guy again.”

“Really?” Finnick asked, feigning intrigue. “Was it a match made in heaven?”

You made a so-so sound. “He was pretty cute,” you allowed, “but I don’t know if it would work.”

“No?”

“No. I mean, for one, he didn’t start drooling the second he saw me. Huge red flag I think.”

With that, Finnick theatrically slammed his hand down on the countertop and levelled you with a disbelieving look. “You mean to tell me that he didn’t immediately fall to his knees in worship?”

“No!”

Finnick shook his head; simply aghast. “You can do so much better, honey.”

Your smile turned soft as you watched him lather some of his face wash between his hands before bringing them to his face. “I think so too.”

By the time he was done with washing his face, you were sitting on the counter with Finnick standing between your legs as you massaged some moisturizer into his skin.

“They don’t know what you deserve anyway.” Finnick states suddenly.

Your brows scrunched in confusion. “Who doesn’t?”

“The Capitol people; they don’t know what kind of partner you deserve.”

You stayed quiet as you finished working the product into his skin, pressing a kiss to his lips to alert him to the fact that you were finished. You felt rather shy when he opened his eyes and you found yourself pinned beneath his sea green gaze.

“They’d be sorely mistaken if they thought Capitol Darling Finnick Odair was all you deserved.”

You smiled softly at him before pressing another softer, lingering kiss to his lips.

“I’m rather fond of this Finnick Odair.”

You relished in the slight pink dusting of his cheeks as his smile grew wider before he pulled you in, cradling you to his chest.

You’d come to expect a lot of things to happen when attending a party in the Capitol.

It would take your stylists three hours to prep you for the party. It would take you forty minutes to disassemble yourself after the party. The outfits and jewelry you wore would cost more than most District families saw in years.

And there would always be people trying to introduce you to or set you up with their favourite victor; the Capitol’s darling.

The best part was that no one knew you and Finnick Odair have actually been dating behind closed doors for four years now.

[leona-hawthorne]

FICMAS #1— WHAT’S YOUR TYPE? / theodore nott

december 22nd

theodore nott x fem reader

summary: theo is smart, but he’s an idiot when it comes to taking hints. sometimes, you have to just give it to him.

warnings: smut, unprotected piv, oral m!receiving, google translated italian (sorry in advance)

words: 2.7k

navigation ficmas masterlist

Theo had this way of existing—effortless, detached, like gravity bent to his whims. He lounged against the headboard, a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling upward in lazy spirals. You were convinced he didn’t even like smoking; he just enjoyed the ritual, the way it made his hands look purposeful.

The dorm was dim, the only light spilling from the bedside lamps. Everyone else was sprawled across the furniture, engaged in half-hearted conversations about Quidditch or the latest rumors circulating the castle. But your focus was locked on Theo. Always Theo.

“What’s that look for?” he asked, his lips curving into a smirk as he caught your gaze. His voice was low, teasing, pulling at some invisible thread in your chest.

“What look?” you shot back, tilting your head and feigning innocence.

He chuckled, a sound that sent warmth pooling in your stomach. He took a drag of his cigarette and passed it to you without a word. You accepted it, your fingers brushing his. The fleeting contact sent a shiver down your spine, but you masked it with a casual exhale of smoke.

“So, what’s the topic tonight?” you asked, your tone light.

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘topic.’”

“I mean, what bullshit are we debating? Everyone’s always got something to say about something.”

He glanced around the room, noting the fragmented conversations, before turning back to you. “I think we’re safe to create our own.”

“Fine,” you said, handing the cigarette back to him. “What’s your type?”

Theo blinked, caught off guard. “My type?”

“Yeah. You know, what you look for in someone. Or are you too much of a brooding intellectual to care about such trivial matters?”

His smirk returned, sharper this time. “I’ll have you know I’m very discerning.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, rolling your eyes. “But seriously, I want to know.”

He hesitated, the cigarette poised between his lips. “I don’t know. I guess someone who can hold their own. Smart, independent. Doesn’t take my shit.”

You snorted. “So, basically, someone who’s not a doormat.”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, shrugging. “What about you? What’s your type?”

You took a moment, pretending to ponder, even though the answer was sitting right next to you. “I’ve always thought intelligence is sexy. Like, really sexy. Bonus points if they speak another language.”

Theo glanced at you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Oh, yeah? What’s so great about that?”

“It’s just impressive,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “Shows effort, you know? And…” You trailed off, letting the tension hang for a beat. “I’ve always been a sucker for blue eyes.”

His expression didn’t shift, but you could see the gears turning in his head. “Interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” you replied, your tone light but your gaze steady. He didn’t look away, and for a moment, you thought he might finally connect the dots. Instead, he leaned back, as if dismissing the comment entirely.

“What about personality?” he asked, like you hadn’t just described him to a T.

You sighed, exasperated. “Theo.”

“What?” he said, his voice full of feigned innocence.

“For fuck’s sake,” you muttered, grabbing his wrist and yanking him to his feet. The room barely registered the two of you leaving; everyone else was too absorbed in their own conversations.

Theo followed you into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind you. “Care to explain what’s going on?”

You turned to face him, your back against the door. “You’re supposed to be smart.”

“I am smart,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Then why are you so bloody dense?” you asked, stepping closer. He didn’t move, his eyes fixed on yours, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Am I?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

“Oh, you absolutely are,” you said, your hands finding the front of his shirt. “But I think I can help with that.”

The realization finally dawned on him, and his smirk widened. “Well, by all means, love. Enlighten me.”

You didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, you tugged him down by his collar and crashed your lips against his. Theo responded immediately, his hands bracing on your hips as he pressed you back against the door. The kiss was heated, messy, all teeth and desperation. You’d been waiting for this, and judging by the way his grip tightened, so had he.

“You’re insufferable,” you murmured against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“And yet you’re all over me,” he shot back, his tone smug. Before you could retort, his mouth was on yours again, silencing any comeback you might have had.

Your hands moved to the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. Theo barely gave you a moment to breathe before he was on you again, his lips trailing down your jaw to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You gasped, your head tipping back against the door.

“I think I like it when you’re annoyed,” he murmured, his voice rough.

“Shut up,” you managed, but the words lacked any real venom. Your hands roamed over his chest, mapping out the planes of muscle and the scatter of freckles across his skin. He was impossibly warm, and you couldn’t get enough.

Theo’s hands slipped beneath your shirt, his fingers skimming over your bare skin. You shivered at the contact, your breath hitching as he pulled the fabric up and off. His gaze darkened as he took you in, his lips parting slightly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his hands settling on your waist. “Così dannatamente carino.” (So fucking pretty.)

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you didn’t have time to feel self-conscious. Theo’s mouth was on you again, his kisses trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. Every touch, every movement felt like fire, and you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Theo,” you breathed, your fingers clutching at his shoulders. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with intent.

Theo didn’t hesitate this time. His lips found yours again, hot and desperate, his hands roaming up your sides and pulling you against him like he needed you closer just to breathe. The counter dug into your back, but you didn’t care, not when his kisses were this consuming, his tongue brushing yours and leaving your head spinning.

But you’d waited long enough for him to figure this out, and patience wasn’t exactly your strong suit. You broke the kiss, your lips brushing his as you whispered, “Why’d it take so long for you to figure this one out, hm?”

His smirk reappeared, lazy and infuriating as his hands settled on your hips. “Maybe I just like taking my time.”

You huffed, turning him around so his back was now pressed against the counter. “Then let me spell it out for you,” you said, your fingers already moving to the buckle of his belt.

Theo’s breath hitched, his smirk faltering as you pulled the leather strap free and let it fall to the floor with a soft clink. Your fingers worked quickly, unfastening the button and zipper of his trousers, and when you pushed them down his hips, the tent in his boxers told you everything you needed to know.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his hands gripping the edge of the counter behind him as he stared down at you. “You’re not messing around, are you?”

“Not in the slightest,” you said, dropping to your knees in front of him.

You tugged his boxers down, and his cock sprang free, hard and flushed and already leaking at the tip. Theo let out a sharp exhale, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the counter harder. You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes as you wrapped a hand around him, giving a slow, deliberate stroke.

“Still confused?” you asked, smirking when his hips twitched at your touch.

“Not even a little,” he said, his voice rough and tight.

You didn’t give him time to say more. Leaning in, you flicked your tongue over the tip, tasting the salty bead of precum there before taking him into your mouth. The groan that tore from his throat was low and guttural, his head tipping back to rest against the mirror.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his fingers tangling in your hair as you took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You hummed around him in response, the vibrations drawing another string of curses from his lips. Your hand worked the base of his cock in tandem with your mouth, your pace slow at first, teasing, before you gradually increased the intensity. His breathing grew heavier, his hips jerking slightly as you set a rhythm that had him unraveling beneath your touch.

“Shit,” he groaned, his voice breaking on the word. “You—God, you’re so fucking good at this.”

His praise spurred you on, your free hand sliding up his thigh to steady him as you took him deeper. He was losing control, his grip in your hair tightening, his moans turning into something desperate and raw.

“Fuck—” His hips bucked as his head fell forward, and he looked down at you with wide, blown pupils. “I’m—shit, I’m close.”

You didn’t stop. If anything, you doubled down, your tongue tracing the underside of his cock as you took him all the way to the back of your throat. That was all it took. With a sharp cry, his body tensed, and he spilled into your mouth, a broken groan tearing from his lips as he came undone.

You swallowed, pulling back slowly and wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. Theo’s chest was heaving, his hair a tousled mess as he leaned heavily against the counter, staring down at you like you’d just knocked the wind out of him.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. “You’re insane.”

You stood, smirking as you leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

He grabbed your hips in one quick motion, lifting you onto the counter like you weighed nothing. “Oh, I’ve figured it out now,” he murmured, his voice still rough, but his smirk returning full force. “But I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

Theo’s hands gripped your waist as he pulled you flush against him, his mouth crashing into yours. The kiss was frantic, his tongue brushing against yours as he poured every ounce of leftover tension into it. His hands wandered, sliding up your bare back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine before tangling in your hair to tilt your head back.  

“You’re too fucking good at this,” he muttered against your lips, his voice low and thick. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”  

“Maybe,” you teased, your voice breathless as his teeth grazed your bottom lip.  

He chuckled darkly, nipping at the corner of your jaw before trailing kisses down the column of your neck. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”  

“Pretty sure I am,” you quipped, your hands threading through his hair.  

Theo groaned, his lips dragging over your collarbone. His hands skimmed your sides, his thumbs brushing under the waistband of your jeans. “We’ll see how clever you are when you’re begging me to let you cum.”  

Before you could retort, he lifted and spun you around in one swift motion, your palms landing on the counter as he pressed your hips into the sink. You gasped, his chest flush against your back as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear.  

“Guarda te stessa,” he murmured, his tone dripping with sin. (Look at yourself.)  

Your gaze lifted to the mirror, meeting your reflection. Your hair was disheveled, lips swollen from his kisses, chest rising and falling rapidly. Behind you, Theo was watching you with hooded eyes, his hair mussed and his pupils blown with lust.  

“Sei bellissima così,” he said, his hands sliding down to unbutton your jeans. (You’re so beautiful like this.)  

He pushed the denim down your legs, letting it pool at your ankles, and you kicked them off the rest of the way. His hands found your hips again, sliding over the curve of your ass as his lips pressed to your neck.  

“You’re already so worked up,” he murmured, his fingers slipping between your thighs to brush over the damp fabric of your panties. “Fuck, you’re soaking.”  

“Do something about it, then,” you shot back, your voice shaking slightly.  

Theo grinned, his fingers curling into the waistband of your underwear. “Impatient, aren’t we?” He dragged them down slowly, letting them join your jeans on the floor.  

His hand slid between your legs again, this time bare against your skin, and you gasped as he slipped a finger inside you, his touch teasing and deliberate.  

“Così stretto,” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. (So tight.)  

You whimpered, pressing your hips back against him as he added a second finger, curling them just right. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as he worked you open with slow, calculated strokes.  

“Merda, sei perfetta,” he said, his voice rough. (Fuck, you’re perfect.)  

You moaned, your head tipping forward, but he clicked his tongue, his hand moving to your chin to tilt your face back up.  

“Guarda il specchio,” he ordered. “Voglio vederti quando vengo dentro di te.” (Look in the mirror. I want to see you when I come inside you.)  

Sure, you didn’t understand a word of what he was saying, but fuck, you couldn’t get enough of him talking to you like that. You didn’t fight against his hand, meeting his intense gaze in the mirror.  

Theo pulled his fingers away, and you heard the rustle of fabric as he kicked his trousers the rest of the way off. A moment later, his hands were on your hips again, guiding you back against him. You felt the head of his cock brush against your entrance, and he groaned, low and guttural, as he pushed inside.  

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, his grip tightening as he bottomed out. “You feel incredible.”  

Your hands braced against the counter as he began to move, slow and deliberate at first, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that made your knees weak. He muttered something in Italian, his voice low and breathless, but you couldn’t make it out over the sound of your own moans.  

“Che puttana carina,” he said, his teeth grazing your shoulder as he snapped his hips harder. (What a pretty little slut.)  

You gasped, the words only spurring you on as you pushed back against him, meeting each thrust.  

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice rough and teasing. “To be fucked like this?”  

“Yes,” you managed to say, your voice breaking as he hit a spot that had you seeing stars.  

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding up to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place. “Take it all, bella. Sei mia.” (You’re mine.)  

His thrusts grew faster, harder, and the bathroom filled with the sound of skin against skin, mingled with your moans and his curses in both English and Italian. You caught snippets of his words—“così stretta”, “troppo perfetta”, “dammi tutto”—and each one sent a new wave of heat coursing through you.  (so tight, too perfect, give me everything)

Your legs trembled as the pressure built, your release teetering just out of reach. Theo seemed to sense it, one hand slipping between your thighs to circle your clit as he drove into you.  

“Come for me,” he murmured, his voice raw. “Let me feel you.”  

His words sent you over the edge, your body shattering around him as a cry tore from your throat. Theo groaned, his hips stuttering as he followed you moments later, spilling into you with a shuddering moan.  

For a moment, the only sound was your heavy breathing, the two of you leaning against the counter, spent and satisfied. Theo pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder, his tongue swirling over the skin and his hands roaming over your waist as he caught his breath.  

“You’re my type,” he muttered, his voice still rough but laced with affection.  

You smirked, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Yeah, I fuckin’ better be.”

​​ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan

[misswynters]

Just Because

ekko x fem! reader

requested by @inguuuuu

a/n. the boy deserves flowers 💐

Ekko wasn’t expecting this at all.

He wasn’t expecting the soft sound of your footsteps behind him as he tinkered with his latest project. His focus solely on the delicate machine in front of him. He wasn’t expecting the sudden hush in the air, a shift that made him look up from his work. His brow furrowed slightly as he met your eyes. You stood in the doorway, holding a delicate bouquet of flowers. They bright, vibrant, and impossibly beautiful. You were grinning like you were hiding a secret, and Ekko blinked in surprise.

“Uh... What’s this?” he asked, glancing between you and the bouquet, his voice still lingering with confusion.

You stepped forward, your smile widening as you gently held the flowers out to him. He hesitated for a moment, not sure if he was supposed to take them. But there was something in your eyes that made him reach out.

“Just because,” you said softly, your voice carrying that warm, comforting cadence that always made his heart skip a beat. “No reason at all. I thought you’d like them.”

Ekko blinked again, but this time, his expression softened. He glanced down at the flowers in his hands. They consisted of lilies, daisies, and something bright purple that looked almost like wildflowers. The colors were so vibrant, they looked like they were bursting with life. It wasn’t just that they were beautiful; it was the thought behind them that had him feeling a little overwhelmed.

“I—I don’t really get flowers,” he admitted quietly, a little self-conscious about the whole situation. “I mean, I usually see people giving them to... well, to girls. Not so much to guys.”

You chuckled at that, the sound like music to his ears. “And I’m not a girl?” you teased, winking at him as you slid onto the workbench beside him, your hands resting casually on the edge.

Ekko shook his head in amusement but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Yeah, you’re not,” he agreed, his fingers still wrapped gently around the stems of the bouquet. “But... why flowers, though? I mean, it’s not like I did anything to deserve them.”

“You’re why,” you said softly, turning slightly to meet his eyes. “I thought you could use a little brightness today. You work so hard all the time, and I just wanted to remind you that you’re appreciated. No special occasion. Just... because.”

Ekko’s smile softened as your words sank in, the sincerity behind them hitting him like a wave. He’d always been the one to show his affection through actions. Building and fixing things, helping others, however hearing you say those simple words meant so much more than he expected.

“Well, damn,” he said after a moment, his voice rough with emotion. He took a deep breath, looking down at the flowers again. “I wasn’t expecting that. But... thank you. Really.”

You grinned again, happy that you’d made him smile. “You’re welcome, Ekko. It’s no big deal. I just thought you might like them.”

There was a pause as Ekko took in the beauty of the flowers, his thumb brushing against one of the petals as if he were processing the gesture. Then, he looked back at you, his expression thoughtful.

“I mean, if I’m honest... I wasn’t really expecting to get anything like this, especially not from you,” he admitted, still holding the bouquet with reverence. “You’re always so... I don’t know, strong. Like you don’t need things like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile pulling at your lips. “Are you saying I’m too tough for flowers, Ekko?”

He smirked, but there was something soft in his eyes. “Nah. You’re just... not the type to do things like this. It’s nice, though. Really nice.”

“I just wanted to surprise you,” you said with a shrug, your voice soft and genuine. “I don’t always have to be the one to receive surprises, you know? Sometimes I like seeing the way your face lights up when you’re surprised. It makes it 100% worth it.”

Ekko’s heart gave a little flutter at that, the way you were looking at him making him feel a warmth he couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t just the flowers. It was how you knew him. How you understood him in a way that no one else really did. The vulnerability in your gesture made something stir within him. He placed the bouquet gently down on the table beside them, then took a step closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. He wasn’t sure what he was doing at first, but the words came anyway.

“Well... thank you,” he said again, but this time, it was softer, more intimate. “I... really appreciate it.”

Before you could respond, Ekko reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands. The movement was slow, like he was unsure of what exactly he wanted to say next.

“You’re more than just the person who surprises me with flowers,” he continued quietly. “You’re the one who makes me feel like I can take on the world, even when it feels like I’m losing. I just... I don’t know how you do it. But I’m really lucky to have you around.”

Your breath caught in your chest, caught off guard by how open he was being. The way Ekko usually expressed himself was more through actions than words, and hearing him be so vulnerable. It made your heart ache in the best way.

“Aww...” you whispered, your hand reaching up to rest gently against his wrist. “You’re more than enough. I’m lucky to have you too.”

He smiled then, soft and almost shy, as he leaned in a little closer, his forehead touching yours for just a brief moment. The world around you faded into the background, the scent of the flowers, and for a second, everything felt perfect.

You pulled back slightly, still grinning, but this time, there was a playful glint in your eyes. “So,” you said, your voice light, “what are you going to do with them?”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, his playful smirk returning. “Well, I think I should probably put them in water before they die, don’t you think?”

You laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s a good start.”

He chuckled, giving you a quick wink as he grabbed a nearby empty glass and began carefully arranging the flowers inside, though the whole time, his mind was still reeling from your gesture. It wasn’t just about the flowers—it was about you, and how you always seemed to know just what he needed, even when he didn’t.

As he turned back toward you, holding the flowers carefully in his hands, you could see how much the little surprise had meant to him. His usual carefree confidence had been replaced with softer ambiance. He was quieter now, more contemplative, but still smiling.

“You’ve really got a way of making everything better, you know that?” he said softly.

You couldn’t help but smile back, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I’m glad. I like making you smile.”

Ekko looked down at the flowers again, then met your gaze, his expression full of warmth. “Well, mission accomplished.”

You leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, a silent thank-you for everything. You knew that this little gesture was just a small thing, but for Ekko, it was the kind of moment he would carry with him, a reminder that sometimes, even the smallest surprises could change everything.

taglist: @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights @chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct @celineandtulips @stuckinaoaktree @fxxvz @jadziulaa @luclue @1intrustivethoughts @finnsky666 @blkmystery @serena6728 @mvistl @kaedeprinz @alientee @ametheslime @turquoizxe @emforjin @ekkosh

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

A Love that Burns

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

A/n: You don’t understand the chokehold this man has on me ughhhhh. Anyway I hope you guys enjoy, I wrote this very fast!

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x wife character (I usually do x reader but I really like the name Aurelia so I used that!)

Warnings: fluff, angst, arranged marriage, Curse words, mention of fire, minor injuries, burns. A bit of suicidal ideation. Allusion to smut hehe. 18+ to be safe please. No minors!!

Summary: General Marcus Acacius’s new bride is troublesome, he doesn’t seem to mind though. After an incident occurs she pulls away from him and he can’t figure out why.

****************************************************

“He’s going to be furious…”

“Such a shame…do you think he’ll throw her out?”

“He might… we always knew she was trouble but this time she’s gone too far…”

“Poor dear, I doubt even her father will take her back…”

The roaring flames had long since died down, leaving now only crackling embers and dark clouds of smoke. How much time had passed you didn’t know. You hadn’t moved from the ground, knees planted on the hard stone, eyes glued to the scene before you.

What was once a grand structure, beautifully carved and molded for someone equally as impressive was now nothing more than a pile on the ground and it was completely your fault.

How had wanting to get a book out of your husband’s study and lighting a candle to see had gone so wrong?

You should’ve listened to your conscious, it told you that you shouldn’t go into your husbands private building but you knew he had an extensive selection and while you were newly married, barely even a few months he was your husband and you didn’t really think he would mind.

In the short time you were married the general had been accommodating and civil, more than civil actually, he had been doing his best to make you feel comfortable. That being said you did barely see him at times due to his duties and when you did it seemed all you did was cause him trouble.

Like that time you accidentally visited the animals one early morning when you were bored and didn’t shut the door behind you. Acacius had been abruptly woken up by the clucking of chickens ascending the staircase and running around the halls like it was a party. You had been redder than a pomegranate when you realized your mistake.

Or that time you lost your wedding necklace and spent hours wading in the lake where the laundry was washed thinking it fell there. You’d never forget the feeling when Acacius strode through the gates in tow with fellow commanders for a meeting but everyone froze seeing the comical sight of you, a highborn lady dress pulled up and soaking wet. That time made you want to drown yourself right then and there.

Oh and how could you forget the time you wanted to show your appreciation by baking his favorite dessert according to the maids and thought adding some cinnamon you’d bought in town was a good idea. Not even bothering to wonder why the kitchens didn’t have cinnamon in the first place… turns out the reason was a good one, the general had an allergy.

This time it was his face that was redder than yours… you didn’t face him for days after that..

There were so many moments like that but somehow each time he didn’t get angry like you expected. He didn’t yell or scold you.

When you bit your fingers nervously watching the servants try to catch the chickens he slowly walked out, surveyed the scene in what you could guess was mild disbelief and perhaps a bit of amusement, looked at you then turned back to go back to sleep.

When you were soaked in the lake he quickly regained the men’s attention, led them inside then a few minutes later reappeared with some haste. You didn’t get a chance to protest when he stepped in and pulled you out by your arm. Still he didn’t yell, he did start to scold a bit though because you were shivering, but when you suddenly yelped and squirmed reaching in your dress and pulled revealing a flopping fish with your necklace around it he lost all his words. You celebrated while he just started in disbelief.

And when you literally poisoned him you sobbed beside him as the healer frantically gave him several mixtures and an injection of some sort. You apologized over and over like a parrot. When he could finally breathe again, he closed his eyes exhausted but said, “Don’t cry, it tasted great..”

All those times he was so kind, unlike any other man you’d met before. To think you had been so afraid of the arranged marriage and now all you could think was how he deserved someone so much better.

He was older and saw you as a child you were sure of it. You wished you could act like the other wives, but you just couldn’t.

Your eyes glazed watched the flickers before you as if in a trance.

You’d burned his favorite place in the villa. A building constructed years ago that served as his study, his place of comfort, his safe space. He’d showed it to you when you first got married. You’d been amazed at how beautiful it was on the inside.

You could see on his face how this place made him relaxed compared to the rest of the villa.

And now it was gone..

The whispers of the servants were muffled around you but you caught them all the same.

You couldn’t find the strength to move, maybe you should have at least moved back, away from the falling ash and debris but you couldn’t.

You ruined everything, just like always…

There was some more muffling amongst the crackling, some sounds you didn’t register, couldn’t register… then a sharp yell. A tone you didn’t recognize.

“Why is she-!”

There was pressure on your shoulders but still you couldn’t look away.

All gone… all your fault…

You think you heard something loud but couldn’t understand it.

The pressure increased… so did the shouting but still you couldn’t look away.

It wasn’t until you saw the burnt pile get smaller that you realized you were being pulled- no carried away.

You felt so disoriented, everything in your vision jerking and you realized whoever was moving you was running.

The scene was still in view but further away, your eyes not daring to look away. You did however register that you abruptly stopped moving and were sat on something upright. The pressure returned to your head then arms then body.

Yelling, someone was yelling in your ear but it wasn’t until the pressure reached your face and you were forced to look away from the scene.

Eyes, wide and frantic, searched yours. Lips opened and shouted something you still could not understand. But the face you knew all too well. The one you wronged, the one you did a horrible misdeed to. Acacius.

You inhaled loudly, more of a gasp then coughed. Suddenly you felt everything crash into you at once, from when you were numb a moment ago now you burned in pain, lungs on fire, skin itchy and stinging, eyes feeling like the sun itself were upon them. You coughed and sputtered uncontrollably, breathing a foreign concept to you.

His strong hands at your back and arm. Almost cradling you was a strong contrast to his shouts that you could now hear louder than ever.

“Breathe, easy, easy- Dammit why did no one move her! Call the healer now!” He barked behind him.

Angry he was angry. Of course he was, even gentle and kind men like him had limits, limits that you’d crossed by battlefields.

Hot tears came, still you coughed, you wondered how long you could continue like that before losing consciousness, there were already spots in your vision. The sobbing now made it worse.

“Shh shh breathe it’s alright, just breathe for me wife, all is well, shh look I’m here, you’re safe” he pulled you into his lap holding you firmly in the hopes you’d calm down. He kept whispering to you, pleading and eventually the coughing stopped. You wondered how much more smoke it would’ve taken to kill you…

“That’s it, you’re safe, shh just breathe, I’m here” more tears emerged as you registered his words for the first time. How horrible you felt to have this angel of a man cradling you and comforting you when you just burned down his sanctuary.

It would have been easier on your heart had he yelled and thrown you aside.

“The healer is here!” Someone called out, your eyes were closed on his chest but you heard everything around you.

Swiftly you were lifted in his arms and carried to his chambers. The healer immediately got to work peeling back the fabric you only now noticed was dark as ash and singed in many places. Acacius stood behind her as close as he could without getting in her way. You watched as his eyes scanned your form, concern etched as he took in all the burns and scrapes. Your heart couldn’t handle it, he deserved a woman 100times better than you. You shut your eyes of the heartache ignoring the healer telling you to stay awake, moments later you were unconscious.

**************************************************

Stinging pain roused you, you wanted to cry out because your body was screaming at you. You were alone in the room, but by the moonlight shining through and how exausted you felt you didn’t think you had been unconscious long. Fresh tears escaped and you didn’t bother to wipe them.

You sat up in raw agony realizing just how many injures you sustained. Your skin was covered in loose bandages and shiny from salve. Sitting so close at the time you didn’t feel anything but clearly you were affected.

Shouting from below had your head whipping to the window.

With great effort and pain you stood on shaky legs and approached the opening peeking your head outside, you squinted and saw figured in the yard.

You choked out a sob when you realized what was happening. Acacius was yelling… yelling at the servants and guards for not moving you. Yes they put out most of the fire but didn’t bother with you. You hardly blamed them, you were a burden, an embarrassment of a lady to the great house hold. Perhaps they wanted you to die, actually it would have been easier if you did.

You couldn’t bare to listen to it anymore, guilt eating you alive. For some reason you had to see it again. To confirm what you had done…

You ignored all the pain and like a ghost descended the staircase.

When you reached the bottom you sucked in a breathe before walking forward where the smell of smoke was still heavy and thick.

And there it was, like a brand on your heart the scene of your crime. There were no more embers, just wood and ash. You walked closer until you stepped on something.

You moved your sandal revealing a silver medal covered in soot. You remembered how proudly it hung on one of the walls. And now it was beneath rubble and dirt.

Two hands found your mouth as you let out a cry.

“Heavens What have I done?” The strangled voice sounded stranger to you.

“What have I done, what have I done” you whispered achingly.

“Aurelia!”

You choked again hearing his voice, you couldn’t bring your self to look just yet.

“Aurelia what are you doing!? Why are you up!?” He rounded you hands finding your shoulders.

Acacius waited for your answer but you had none, only fresh tears. He barely hesitated before reaching down and scooping you up.

“I can walk-“ you tried to say but it was unintelligible through your tears, you didn’t want to burden this man ever again, not for anything.

He glanced at you for a moment but continued his quick pace to the bedroom. He laid you gently on the bed, his concern growing at the endless tears.

“Are you in pain? Let me call the healer back-“ he was already halfway out again.

“No-! no I’m fine I’m fine don’t call I’m fine!” You cried out but tried to collect yourself to not worry him more. The truth is your body was on fire but you would never burden this man again.

He hesitated but listened and approached you again, “Then what is it? Are you afraid? Everything’s alright now, your safe”.

You bit your lip to keep in the cry. How could he be so kind?

“Aurelia? Tell me please, what is it?” He kneeled beside you a helpless expression on his face.

“I-I I’m so- im so sorry, I’m sorry- I don’t know how- I was in there for a b-book and lit some candles I don’t even know how it h-happened I-I-“

Your breathing was becoming erratic again but once you started apologizing you couldn’t stop

“I’m so s-sorry Acacius I’m so sorry” you buried your face in your hands.

“Aurelia shh it’s alright, don’t cry, it’s nothing that can’t be replaced, don’t apologize, you need to breathe alright?”

You barely heard him, but you needed him to know how sorry you were, even if you didn’t deserve forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry” you continued.

“Aurelia-“

“I’m s-sorry”

“Aurelia stop you’ll hurt yourself more!” He kneeled on the bed pulling you closer to him, worried that if you didn’t calm down you would go into another coughing fit.

“Shh it’s alright, I’m not angry, all that matters is you’re safe. Please calm down, can you breathe slowly for me? Look, follow my breathe…”

“That’s it, breathe in and out just like that, good girl…” he held you close and you felt your eyes begin to droop, exhaustion taking its toll. He sighed when your last words were a whispered apology.

***************************************************

The next day you were miserable, the burns although mostly shallow still caused great pain. Mentally you were a wreck, replaying the events over and over.

The healer told you you needed to rest for several days so that’s what Acacius made sure you did. He visited often but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak hardly a thing out of shame. Most times you just pretended you were asleep.

A week passed and you were allowed to get up as normal just to take it easy. Acacius had gone out for some business luckily because you didn’t think you had the strength to face him.

As you descended the stairs you tried to ignore the whispers of the servants. They all thought the same thing you were repeating in your mind.

Burden

Shameful

Useless

You sighed shakily nearing the now cleaned land where the structure once stood. His kindness made you feel horrible. You wish he would yell and scream at you, for you deserved all the bad words

You spent the day aimlessly wandering and thinking until you tired yourself out and retired to your chambers.

A jar of salve was left by your bed from the healer for the pain but you didn’t open it. You deserved every single sting and ache.

The next day you hardly felt like getting up so you didn’t. Food was brought, you didn’t bother eating it, instead you gave it to the birds outside the window.

In your solitude you came to a resolve. You would resist every urge, every inkling of your old reckless self. Acacius deserved someone who was 100 times the woman you were but since you were bound all you could do was at least not give him any more trouble. Another week passed, Acacius had been gone for some military business and it was easier that way.

It had been a whole nother week when Acacius finally arrived back to the villa. He dismounted his horse with a sigh. He did not want to be gone so long but he could hardly deny the emperors requests.

Tiredly he walked through the gates, scanning for signs of you. It was unusual to not see you flitting about.

A servant approached and helped him remove his cape.

“The Lady, how is she?”

The servant frowned a bit, “My Lady has been… resting these past weeks. We’ve not seen much of her.”

He frowned at that. Her wounds were not so terrible to have her bedridden so long. So what was wrong with his wife?

He nodded to the servant and made way directly to her chambers.

He knocked on the door listening for her voice.

“Come in” you called expecting a servant with food.

You were sat on the bench by the window staring out.

“My Lady..” he said almost hesitant.

Your head whipped to the side, eyes widened seeing your husband.

“A-Acacius… I didn’t know you were back…”

He walked inside and shut the door behind him.

“Are you well? The servants tell me you haven’t left the room much..” he stepped closer taking you in. Your sunken face, the way your eyes weren’t lit up with that sparkle he loved.

“I’m alright, thank you..” he frowned, not quite satisfied with the answer.

“Your wounds are healed?”

You nodded quickly.

He nodded then cleared his throat in the awkward silence that followed, “Then why haven’t you been out?”

You thought of what to say for a moment, “I… no reason, just resting I suppose”

Another answer that didn’t satisfy him but he decided not to pry. If you didn’t want to speak he wouldn’t make you uncomfortable.

“Well I’ll be in my chambers should you need anything…”

“Thank you..” and with that he left shutting the door behind him. You bit your lip forcing the tears not to come. How dare you cry when he’s the one who should be upset. Get it together.

Several more days pass and Acacius was growing frustrated. You barely left the room, choosing to take your meals inside even when he was home. He only caught glimpses of you here or there on the occasional walk around the garden but even that was becoming rare. Where was his wife who was always flitting around singing something off tune or getting into trouble. He recalled the time he awoke to clucking outside his door, and the time he found you skirts tied comically splashing in the lake, then of course when you so happily baked for him flour marks on your face. He smiled fondly at the memories, then frowned.

Why had you suddenly changed so much? Had he done something? He knew the fire shook you up but perhaps he said something unintentional? Did you overhear him yelling at the staff and resented him for it? He was going mad.

It took another few days before his patience finally ran out and he all but burst into your room.

“A-Acacius?! What-“ you startled dropping the book in your hands.

“Tell me what it is” he demanded a bit out of breathe.

“W-what?”

“Tell me what’s wrong or what I’ve done to upset you into seclusion”

“Acacius you’ve done nothing wrong I swear…”

“Then what is it? Why have you been avoiding me? What has upset you so much that you’ve locked yourself away?”

You didn’t expect this, so you really didn’t know what to say.

“I… I think it’s better this way…”

His eyebrows furrowed a bit trying to make sense of what you just said. “I don’t understand, what’s better?”

You fiddled with your hands and had a hard time making eye contact so you chose a lovely spot on the floor instead.

“It’s better that I don’t…. cause problems..” heavens was that a lot harder to say out loud than you thought.

This definitely took him aback.

“What?”

Oh no was he upset now? He surely looked it.. maybe you should have explained better.

“I-I mean… I’m always causing you trouble and getting into situations that I shouldn’t… I figured it would be better if I spent more time here….”

He was quiet for a while, his face undeniably confused and upset.

“And you decided this all on your own?” He said in a tone that you were a bit nervous about. Calm but hidden anger.

“I-I… yes..”

“So your plan is to live out the rest of your days between these four walls?” He couldn’t hold back a scoff. His annoyance seeping through his usually calm demeanor with you.

“….It’s better-”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance “Better? Better for who exactly?”

“Acacius all I do is cause you trouble! I’ve been embarrassing you since we wed, the entire household thinks I’m a burden and they’re right, I cannot-I will not burden you anymore especially after-…” you couldn’t bring yourself to mention the fire. With a shakey breath you gathered yourself and continued.

“I just don’t want to upset you anymore…” you confessed.

The silence was deafening, your heart squeezing so much you were afraid it was going to burst.

“You know out of everything that’s happened between us I think this is the only time I’ve been truly upset.”

You eyed him swallowing dryly taking in his clenched jaw and crossed arms.

“Acacius…”

“You don’t get to decide this all on your own, and you especially don’t get to decide how I feel.”

“…”

“Have I ever been cross with you? Made you feel as if you’ve shamed me?”

“Well no but-“

“Then why?” In two strides he was upon you looking down.

“Why did you suddenly decide that I would like it more if you hid yourself away?”

“Because if I’m here not causing you problems then wouldn’t it be easier for you…?” You wrung your hands together, anxiety heightening with every moment.

“Fuck that”

You jumped a bit startled that those words came out of his mouth.

“W-what?”

“Cause me problems”

“Acacius-“

“Break things, scream shout, bring the whole villa down if you wish it but you will not lock yourself up like a prisoner. You’re my wife, I���d like to actually have you around.”

“You… you’re just saying that because you’re too kind Acacius… but my heart can’t take it anymore. I did something so awful and I know you must be upset…”

“Is this about the fire then?”

“…”

“Things can be replaced, nothing that burned cannot be bought again or rebuilt.”

“B-but you loved that place. It was your sanctuary”

“I did love it, but it’s gone now and I hardly think about it, it’ll be rebuilt soon enough not that it really matters. What matters is that you’re safe and sound.”

“How can you be so kind? So patient so-so perfect” he scoffed at the last one in mild amusement.

“Acacius it’s true! I’ve never met someone so gentle and sweet”

“Gentle and sweet..I’ll be sure to add that to my title right after general or Rome”

“You joke but it’s the truth…” you look down at your sandals.

He sighed before lifting your chin up with his warm fingers then caressing your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“Tell me something wife, have you seen me act that way with anyone else?”

“Well…” you thought about it. He was civil with everyone.. stern a lot, with servants and his men and well everyone else…

“And why do you think that is hm?”

“Well… I assume it’s because you see me more as a child…”

“A child.” He repeated.

You nodded.

“Aurelia you are never allowed to assume anything ever again”

“What?”

“You truly think that’s how I see you? That I treat you kindly because I pity you?”

“Well…then why?” You asked genuinely confused.

“Why treat my wife with care? Why worry for her? Why speak gentle words? Why shower her with gifts? Tell me Aurelia why does a man do those things for a woman?”

“I… I assumed-um well I believed that you were just..”

“Just what? Doing that out of duty? Is it so impossible to imagine that I love my wife and want her to be happy?”

“….” Your eyes widened larger than the sun. You hardly believed the words. So you asked him in a whisper.

“W-what did you s-say?”

Instead of answering he leaned forward closing the distance with a soft kiss.

“Does that answer your question?” He breathed in the few inches between your lips.

You shook your head no and leaned in. You felt the smirk against his lips. After several moments you pulled back to regard him.

“I never imagined you’d feel the same way…I still don’t think I believe it…”

“Like I said, you’re forbidden to assume things from now on wife”

“I… I’m sorry…” his hands settled at your waist, his smell flooding your senses.

“Make it up to me…”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks but didn’t want to disappoint. You wrapped your arms around him pulling him into a deeper kiss full of emotion.

“Never allow such thoughts in your mind again, and you’re wrong, you’re not a burden. Yes I’ll admit you have a habit of getting into unique situations but I don’t mind, in fact I look forward to what surprises await me each day.”

“Do you really mean it? Even if I do awful things…? “

“Yes I mean it.. although I will draw the line at one thing, never do anything to put yourself in danger. When I saw you by the flames I-“ he paused sucking in a breathe.

And that moment you heart finally caught up with your head because no man could fake the emotions on his face like that.

You hugged him whispering an apology into his shoulder.

“You’ve apologized enough for a lifetime, come, dine with me, you’ve lost weight…” you nod letting him pull you by the hand out the door.

You heard some voices and frowned, anxiety creeping up again.

Ever the perfect man he caught on immediately.

“What is it?”

“The servants… it’s been hard to be around them… you might accept me for who I am but they haven’t…”

“I wouldn’t worry about it”

You cocked your head a bit at his amused tone, “why?”

“Because I fired them all”.

“Acacius!”

“Don’t protest, it’s done. I blame myself for not realizing what heartless people resided in my home. Besides I think you’ll like the new staff a lot better..”

You descended the staircase still confused why he seemed so smug until you heard voices you hadn’t heard in months.

“My Lady!”

“My Lady we’re here!”

“Oh how we’ve missed you!”

You couldn’t contain the loud gasp when your eyes landed on the familiar faces below. The staff that practically raised you was beaming up at you with joy.

“Oh my- Marika! Cicero! Diana! Felix! Ahh you’re all here!” You practically jumped from the staircase onto the group of your favorite people in the world.

Acacius couldn’t help but chuckle as the group enveloped you pulling you in, hugging and kissing you. Hardly the kind of servants he was used to but now he understood why you were so saddened to leave them behind. After your embraces you pulled back.

“What are you doing here? Is Father here?”

“You mean you don’t know?” The words would have worried you had everyone not been smiling ear to ear.

“Know what?” The general has employed us all here.

“W-what?!” You snapped your head to your grinning husband.

“B-but how did you- father must’ve been- h-how!?”

He laughed and descended the last couple steps, “I can be very persuasive if I need to be dear wife.”

“Oh- oh I don’t believe this!” you couldn’t contain your joy and parted from the group to jump on your husband who stumbled a bit but caught you of course. You kissed him then and there not caring who was watching- well in fact you didn’t care because everyone in the room were people you loved and felt safe with.

He was a bit surprised but when you pulled back his face was quickly morphed into fondness and satisfaction that the gleam in your eye was back.

“There she is..” you sighed happily hugging him once more then ran back to the awaiting group.

Well actually you made it halfway before pausing, turning around with an unsure look, and walking slowly back to him.

He tilted his head curious, “Acacius… will you… will you allow me to properly thank you… tonight? If that’s- if that’s something you’d like… or-“ your face that lovely shade of red he’d come to admire.

“Something I’d like?” He scoffed and for a moment you were afraid until you saw the expression in his eyes.

“Well I didn’t want to assume… you’ve forbidden it remember.” He smirked leaning down by your ear so only you could hear him.

“Listen well wife. This is the only exception you may always assume...” You shivered feeling his breathe caress your ear.

Gentle and sweet and now you had a new word to add, although you couldn’t quite find the right one just yet. But oh were you ever so eager to find out…

***************************************************

Is it getting hot in here guys?? No? Just me? Anywayyyy hope you enjoyed. I threw this up in one sitting so forgive all the mistakes. I finally saw the movie and wow, who knew they could fit so many hot men on one screen.

Also can anyone think of a better title lol😅

[munsonsmixtapes]

wearing a matching set for eddie smut?

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) body insecurity, body worship, nipple play

There's not really a reason why you bought the lingerie set. It was pretty when you tried it on and it just so happened to that pretty red that Eddie loved to see you in. You wanted to surprise him with it, putting it on top of the t-shirts he stored in the bottom drawer of the dresser you shared.

You're washing dishes when Eddie comes home from work, trying your best to act normal as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, murmuring a "hey, baby" as he passes by you to head to your shared room to change into some more comfy clothes.

You’re buzzing with excitement as you slowly follow him into the bedroom, leaning against the door frame as you watch him make the discovery, pulling the bright red, thin panties out of the drawer, whistling as he takes a look at them.

"Shit, baby, what are these?" He asks, as he turns towards you. "I'm assuming they're not for me, because," he holds them up to his body and they don't look quite right on him.

"They're for you," you tell him, your cheeks getting warm. "I mean, they're for me to wear for you." You enter the room and stand in front of him, reaching into the drawer to pull out the matching bra.

Eddie's never seen this side of you, but he has to admit that he finds it really hot. Sure, you've worn lingerie for him before, but you've never bought any to specifically wear for him. And that makes him feel special. It makes him feel…hot.

"And what did I do to deserve such special treatment?" He asks, fanning his face dramatically.

"Nothing," you shake your head. "It's for you being you." You press a kiss to his nose then take the underwear from him. "I'm gonna slip into these and you just sit there and look pretty, okay?"

You head into the bathroom and close the door, taking a deep breath as you gingerly take off your clothes, changing into the lingerie, suddenly not feeling as confident as you did in the store earlier.

The cups of the bra seem to be smaller than you remember, more transparent, your tits on full display through the sheer fabric. And the panties are more tight, hugging you in all the wrong places. The whole thing looks ill fitting and now you’re unsure of whether you should change or not.

You stare at your reflection as you fix one of the straps that’s fallen off your shoulder. You almost don’t want to go out there, the idea suddenly feeling stupid to you. But Eddie is waiting and you don’t want to disappoint him.

You slowly exit the bathroom, covering yourself up as much as you can with your hands and arms, but eventually give up, showing yourself to Eddie as he leans back where he’s sitting on the bed, another wolf whistles passing through his lips.

“Baby, you look fucking amazing.” He’s grinning ear to ear and you almost believe him. Almost. He’d never lie to you so you don’t know why you don’t believe him.

“Do I?” You ask genuinely and Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. He doesn’t know why you’re asking. He always thinks you look amazing and is very quick to tell you so.

“Of course you do. Can’t stop looking at you. Hey, what’s wrong?” He notices your frown and rests his hands on his shoulder, his head moving in the direction of yours, trying to get you to look him in the eye.

“Nothing, Eds. Don’t worry about it.” You shake your head before turning it to the side so he can’t see how ashamed you feel.

“Do you not like it? Are you uncomfortable? You don’t have to do this for me. You can change back if that’s what you want. I love you no matter what you wear. You know that.” He wants to know what’s wrong so he can fix it. He hates when you feel anything but happy and wants to do whatever he can to make you feel better.

“Is it too small?”

“Small? No, baby, you look perfect.” His hand moved to one of the cups of your bra, his fingers brushing over the lace. “This, this is nice, but I think I like what’s underneath it even better.”

Eddie pushes the strap off of your shoulder then presses a featherlight kiss to it. He backs you up to the bed as his kisses get hotter and rougher, his lips sucking on your skin as your back collides with the bed.

“Once I’m done with you, you’ll know just how pretty I think you are. Especially when you see all of marks I’m about to leave on you when you look in the mirror.”

Your cheeks flush at his comment and he’s quick to get off of you, rushing to the other side of the room and grabbing something before hurrying back to you.

He straddles your waist and brings a camera up his face, making sure that you’re in the center of the frame.

“Need a photo of my pretty girl so pose for me.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself in a way that you think looks sexy, a pose that you’ve seen in the magazines he reads.

“That’s it,” he says then snaps a photo, the thing printing out of the camera. You take it and set it on the bedside table along with the camera before Eddie lies down on top of you once again.

He leans down and brings your nipple to his mouth, sucking on it through the fabric. You let out a whine and he takes that as an invitation to continue. His hands find yours and he pins them above you as he dives in for more, licking and sucking on the fabric as you moan underneath him, the sounds nothing but hot.

Eddie moves his hands underneath you and unhooks your bra, your tits coming into view and he feels his mouth watering as he stares down at your exposed chest and all of the things he wants to do to it. You’re right there on display for him like an all-you-can-eat buffet and fuck is he hungry.

He goes for your nipple, taking the whole thing into his mouth, flicking it back and forth as he sucks on it, wanting to get a full taste of it. He slides his hands underneath you, holding onto your bare back as he works, trying to giving himself more room, wanting to have his mouth on as much of you as he can.

You’re moaning and whining and he makes sure to press his rock hard cock against you so that you know just how hard you’re making him. That you know that he’s getting just as much enjoyment out of this as you are.

“Fuck,” you whine as he bites down on your nipple, arching into him as he bites down even harder, wanting you to moan as loud as possible so all of your neighbors know exactly how good he makes you feel.

You’re already reaching your orgasm and even though you’re embarrassed by it, Eddie is quick to let you know how good of a girl he thinks you are, how you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to.

“Oh,” you moan loudly as you grab onto him, your nails digging into the back of his shirt. “Oh my god, Eddie.”

“That’s it,” he encourages as he helps you ride out your high. “That’s my girl. Sound so pretty when you moan my name.”

As you’re coming down, he moves lower, loving on every inch of skin he can get his mouth on, nipping and sucking on the parts of you he loves the most, stopping once he gets to your cunt. He spreads your legs wide and you look ready for him, already sopping wet through your panties.

Eddie gets undressed and puts on the first condom he can find before lowering himself onto you once again as he slides into you, pumping in and out slowly, knowing that this is exactly what you need. You want him to make love to you, not fuck you like he always does. You want him to show you just how much he loves you with his body.

“Wish you could see how pretty you are,” he says as he presses a kiss to your lips. “Because if you could see what I see, baby, fuck,” he sighs as he picks up the pace just slightly, his fingers interlocking with yours as his face is buried in your neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin.

“Can we do this more often?” You ask even though you’re kind of afraid to.

“What? Go slow?”

“Yes.” Your face flushes as you’re confession but Eddie just looks as you lovingly.

“Baby, you can have anything you want. All you gotta do is ask.”

“So we can do this all night as long as I ask?” Eddie pulls back to look at you as if you had just asked a silly question, and you suppose that you did.

“No question,” he shakes his head. “Now lie back darlin’, gonna show you just what I think of that pretty little thing you were wearing.”

And you do that the rest of the night and into the early morning, and afterwards, Eddie takes that Polaroid from the bedside table and puts it in his wallet so he can look at it anytime he wants. And after he does so, he pulls you into his arms and cuddles you until the two of you fall into a much needed sleep.

[cthulhus-curse]

Cherry Waves

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 10,079

Warnings: Milf!Stripper!Wanda Maximoff, Teacher!Reader, Smut, Fluff | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: In which you meet the woman of your dreams in the most unexpected of places before a romance between the two of you blossoms.

The sight of yellow vehicles alongside bouts of snow and bleak, barely tended-to outer walls were triggers of disgust. They were constant reminders of a previous life filled with animosity, a time where the priority was survival, not living. Once as a child there was not much to cling to, ostracized and forgotten by peers who pitied faced experiences. Upon growing up, her life didn’t change for the better, but mostly the worst. 

“Drop-off is right here, mom.”

At the sound of the small voice, Wanda shook her head. Her hands loosed over her steering wheel she didn’t know she held onto with mighty fury. “Thank you, honey. I almost missed it.”

“Are you okay?” One of the twins, the eldest by only minutes – Tommy – frowned at her words. “You look really tired today. When you dropped us off at dad’s earlier yesterday I thought you’d be sleeping a lot more. You gotta take care of yourself too, mom.”

“I know, sweetheart, thank you,” Wanda beamed at his words, bags hiding beneath messy makeup from the previous night underneath her eyes. Eyeing her twins from the rearview mirror, she couldn’t help but bask in the loving, short moments the three of them had. “Now it’s time to go to class, boys. I don’t want you to be late again.”

At his mother’s words, Billy grimaced. “Oh about that…”

“Yes?” Wanda didn’t miss the hesitation, raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms upon her chest, small ounces of glitter hiding under her hoodie. “What’s wrong? Come on, you have about thirty seconds to spit it out.”

“Ourhomeroomteacherwantstotalktoyouaboutourtardiness,” Billy rambled. He didn’t wish to stay back, instead hastily opening the door of the backseat of the car before throwing himself out. “Bye, ma. Have a good day, love you!”

Albeit surprising, Wanda couldn’t help the way the ends of her mouth rose at the action. She turned to Tommy who broke out into a fit of laughter, following his brother’s steps as he slid out of the car with a patience much like his father’s. 

“He said that our homeroom teacher wanted to have a meeting with you. We’ve been late a bunch of times. I tried explaining myself, but not even the principal was having it,” Tommy shrugged. “Now I get why you don’t like Mrs. Potts.”

The reason was much deeper than that. During her adolescence it was Pepper who made it her focus to continuously pick on Wanda through high school, even up until graduation day. Although the elementary school principal found it to be water under the bridge, each time she was forced to see the woman, Wanda found herself holding onto a constant reminder of her torture. 

“I’ll take care of it, sweetie. You just go in and have a good day at school,” Wanda forced an exhausted smirk. “I’ll call later today and set up a meeting. And please make sure your brother eats his lunch, all of it. You don’t have to eat his veggies just to cover for him. Now go, honey, or else you’ll be late once again.”

Unlike his brother, Tommy took the time leaning in and wrapping his arms around his mother, even if in an awkward position. “I love you, mom. See ya later.”

“Bye, Tommy. Remember your dad’s picking you up today, it’s your weekend with him. I love you too, I’ll miss you!”

With the absence of her children for a handful of days, Wanda sighed. Weekends were by far the busiest times, especially as the holiday season loomed over. All she could do was slap her forehead against the steering wheel before dismally driving away, hoping to whatever universal power that she could get through the month in one piece. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“Red, I need you to focus up tonight. You’ll be front and center while the new girl shadows you. Just show her how it’s done before going out and- Scarlet, are you listening to me?”

Distractions overtook Wanda as she shook her head, turning away from the lengthy mirror and towards her coworker. “Sorry, Ags. I was just…thinking.”

Agatha was the eldest at the club, only a few years older than Wanda and reeking with wiseness. She was something of the leader of the pack, forever ensuring the safety of the other girls, training new ones, and nurturing them all when required. It had been her who drew Wanda into the life of a dancer, promising to care for her and give her an easy way to get by while still present in her children’s life. 

The divorce between her and Jarvis had been amicable, and yet living by herself caused her difficulty. As a former paralegal, a career she excelled at, Wanda chose to put her children first rather than her occupation. She was young when the twins were born with nowhere to go with her family having disowned her shortly after her high school graduation when they found her making out with her former friend. Back then Audrey had blamed her for it all, and given her rebellious phase being in full-force, her parents sided with the girl before dumping off their only daughter as though she was trash. 

From then on it was Jarvis, her best friend since middle school, who had her back. Only their romance was short-lived, a mistake on Wanda's part who believed she could change much like her parents hoped, as their friendship thrived through adulthood instead. After all, they were much better as co-parents than a married couple. 

“Get your head in the game, sweets. I need my best girl tonight. You and I both know that on Saturdays you’re all the boys want to see…and girls,” Agatha gave her a knowing look. “If you get enough tips tonight, maybe you won’t have to come in tomorrow.”

“I have to work anyway,” Wanda shook her head, finishing her makeup before staring at herself through the mirror. “I haven’t bought the boys’ Chanukah gifts. I know there’s over a month to spare, but I’m barely breaking even with what I used to make years ago. Nobody wants to see me, Ags, let’s face it. I’m…old.”

“Honey, you're barely halfway through your thirties. If you’re old then I’m a fucking dinosaur,” Agatha laughed. She stood behind Wanda, hands placed over her nude shoulders that squeezed lovingly. “Plus, you got the best tits in the club. You should be proud of the fact that men pay hundreds just for you to flash them.”

“I suppose that’s nice…I think?”

Agatha wasn’t one to easily take Wanda’s insecurities lightly. “It’s the best compliment I can give you right now. I’m running on a mix of Redbull and coffee that Carol made. So I’ll either stay awake for an entire day or die trying. Now come on, this girl Kate is waiting for the master to teach her a few tricks. Time to shine, Red.”

Meeting Kate, or Lucky as she named herself, was a forever reminder of the youth that escaped Wanda. Although she was barely clothed, only stockings covering her legs alongside knee-high heeled boots and a thin see-through bikini, seeing the younger woman in much less clothes made her become fueled by humiliation. 

She showed her the ins and outs of the club, reminding the girl that her safety would forever come first. There was no doubt she’d do well – Kate was young and pleasing to the eye, everyone would fall to their knees for her as they had once done for Wanda. Now with a body carrying carved stretch marks, a painful scar across her abdomen that was a permanent reminder of the birth-gone-wrong of Billy, and rolls upon her tummy, the redhead wasn’t quite sure how to make ends meet. The day job she garnered much to Jarvis’ dismay, who offered to help pay her bills, somewhat allowed her to just get by. As if working dancing at the club wasn’t bad enough, during the days she threw on a uniform to spend lengthy shifts as a bagger at a local grocery store. 

As they walked around backstage, Kate noticed a shining golden chain across Wanda’s neck. 

“That’s a beautiful necklace,” she pointed out. 

Wanda didn’t need to look down as her hand involuntarily went to the Star of David that hung from her neck. “It was a graduation gift from my brother – the last thing he ever gave me, actually.”

“Oh? Well, where is he now?” Kate wondered with furrowed brows. 

Since the day she was kicked from her home, her parents barred Pietro from getting in contact with his twin sister. Each day she only longed to see him again, even if for a smidge of a second. Throwing a sad smile towards the new dancer, Wanda shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

The start of a new job carried numerous amounts of stress and anxieties, of hidden fears that you wished to push far down until their disappearance. You weren’t used to going out and putting in effort for anything, always living a sheltered life where anything you wanted was simply bestowed upon the palms of your hands. 

Your dream of being a teacher confused your parents. They simply couldn’t understand why rather than taking over your father’s business, or perhaps becoming part of it, you’d choose to go out of your way and put more effort into a career when you already had one set in stone. Although they disapproved at first, it was relieving how they eventually came to be proud of you for molding your own path. 

Of course no one ever told you of the stress teachers were put through on the daily, much less of the rather adventurous manners in which some decompressed after what had been a harsh semester. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You’ve never even been to one of these before. Trust me when I say you’ll have the time of your life.”

While you had only worked at Westview Elementary for a few months, you could easily feel yourself trusting Maria. She was a mathematics teacher with her room right across from yours, a quiet educator who during breaks made sure to bring out the life of the teacher’s lounge. It was the first person you had gotten close to at the school, that alongside the gym teacher Carol Danvers and her young assistant, Peter. 

“Are you sure?” You eyed Maria incredulously as she pushed you through the doors of the club, smiling at her coworkers who followed along. “Have you ever been to a strip club?”

“Well, not this one, but I heard only good things about it. Their star dancer is something else,” Maria responded with excitement, “I, uh, have a bit of a thing for redheads.”

Although you didn’t know it then, it was a sentiment you too shared. 

Entering the club was a rather out-of-body experience you had never lived through. Seeing the flashing lights amidst the darkness made you hiss from the sudden pain upon your eyes, but as they darted towards the main stage, they ended up widening. 

Upon the first sight of a mane of red, you couldn’t quite easily shake away the feeling of longing and desire. It was your first time seeing her and yet you knew it was her you wanted. And nothing would dare stop you from getting what you wished.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

While your coworkers spent most of the night throwing loose bills on stage, Maria quite enthralled by a certain redhead which caught her eye, you remained rigid upon your seat. The once dancer that took your attention moved around the stage through her set, her outfit adorned by bills, some much larger than others, peeking through her waist of breasts that you felt guilty staring at for too long. 

Even with the self-proclaimed Black Widow dancing by her, Maria’s eyes averted to your ragged state, frowning as you didn’t tear away from your focus. Smacking your shoulder playfully, she yelled at you through the music that drowned her out. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I was just…thinking I guess,” you shouted back, and yet never did you turn to Maria. 

She took notice of this as she followed your line of sight. When she came to find what you were taken by, the woman smirked. “That’s why we came here. Apparently she’s very popular and, well, I thought you might like her. I would offer to get you a private dance but, you know, teacher’s salary…”

“It’s okay,” you fondly responded. Before your arrival you had taken the liberty to gather some funds for the outing. You never thought you’d use them all in one night, but you’d spend whatever you needed to get her to so much as look at you. “I think I got this, thanks. Just enjoy your night. Maybe I can get you a private dance with her.”

As the night went on, it was you who blessed Maria with a privacy dance from the Widow herself. You had enough money to spare, and seeing your newly found friend carrying a goofy smile as she was dragged backstage was far too enjoyable to constitute as a waste of your earnings. While growing up, your family had forever been well-off. With all that they gave you, you could easily retire without even needing to work. 

There was hesitation on your part, but after a smidge of apprehension from a flushed Peter and a thumbs-up, he was who gave you the confidence to request a dance from the club’s most notable dancer. And as you sat in the dark, dimly-lit room with only echoes of the music booming through, all you could do was pray for it to be all you longed for. 

Never had you been one to follow your instincts in such a way. The way the woman had drawn you when you first saw her was like no other. There was no feeling you could easily shake away, you way you’d voluntarily tear your eyes from her frame as you sought out her services. Surely you’d had flings here and there, but the passion you felt upon merely seeing her was unknown, a mystery to your soul. 

As you rummaged through your own thoughts, you didn’t see the curtains of the small room be shifted as a huffing figure appeared. At least not until hands were placed upon your shoulders making you jump. “You’re far too tense, darling.” The voice drifted closer as a weight was pressed against your body. “Let me help you with that. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy the little show I got for you. I promise you’ll like it.”

Even as the slow, sultry music began, you shut it out as a means to bestow your attention upon her. Your mouth lay agape, heavy breaths being ragged out as you got a better look at the woman. Her red hair shone upon the fluorescent lights, dark lips ghosting upon your forehead as she straddled your lap. Her chest was practically bare let alone for her see-through skimpy outfit that you attempted not to stare at too hard. With hands merely hovering over her hips, you were left in awe. 

“I, uhm…” you didn’t find the right words, instead stammering out incoherent babbles as your face turned beet red. “I’ve never done this before, sorry. I’m not really sure what to do right now.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I can tell.” Her giggle made your racing heart catch its breath. “Just relax for me. I’ll take care of you. You’re in good hands, my dear.”

Sways hypnotized you without much effort. Melting against the faux leather couch, your arms were limp at each side of your frame. Flickering orbs were entranced by each slow movement. Scarlet, you had learned, carried herself with the utmost grace. She was a vision you mentally recorded, steady mannerisms recorded to be forever plastered upon the walls of your brain. Her alabaster skin was one that drew you in to so much as graze upon it, but the no touching rule was one you took to heart. 

The tune was made for her dance. The woman, only slightly older than you, alternated between swaying on top of you before she mounted your lap, her nearly bare breasts brushing upon your face. With each passing second your arousal only grew. Being in close proximity to the goddess Aphrodite envied was intoxicating. You had paid dearly for the private session, but the tips you’d give her would be grandiose in comparison. 

“You’re perfect,” you found yourself breathing out. Within the dusk of the room you still noticed stretch marks across her barely-clothed breasts, arms, and thighs, ones that you gawked out while drool was held back. “Just look at you. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.”

Wanda had never been one to have such compliments thrown her way, especially not after having her children. “Careful, sweetheart, or else you may become a favorite client of mine.” 

“Yeah? I’d like that. You have no idea how good you’re making me feel,” you groaned when Scarlet grinded upon your lap. She didn’t hesitate to grab hold of your hands before guiding them to her breasts, breaking her own personal rule only to allow you to squeeze the soft mounds. “I’m so glad I came here.”

There was a peculiar mark upon her abdomen that made you frown. A certain familiarity made you tilt your head as you absentmindedly felt your heart squirm for her. You didn’t make note of it, not daring to put her in any discomfort. Instead you did as she told you – leaning back, Scarlet was the one to take the reins for the rest of the session.

Much to your dismay, the dance ended as soon as it began. 

“That was…wow,” you were at a loss for words. As you sat up on the comfortable couch, you thanked whatever higher power allowed the small room to hide your need-stricken features. “Thank you? I’m not really sure what to say.”

“Your gratitude is appreciated,” the woman laughed, carefully stepping away from your lap with a hesitation you didn’t notice. “Most people just slap my ass and ask me if I offer other services. Which in case you were interested, I don’t.”

Hiding your dismay was difficult, and yet you took your time to fully compose yourself before reaching out. “I’m sorry you have to go through that. I can’t imagine you getting to meet the loveliest people in a place like this.” Making small talk with the dancer would be losing her money, so rather than keep her busy, you handed her the remainder of the cash you brought with you. “I’m not really sure how much to tip, but I hope that’s enough. It’s all I have left.”

Looking down at the flurry of hundreds, Wanda’s eyes widened. Normally she had nothing but animosity towards her clientele, especially those who refused to treat her as anything other than a piece of meat, but she could there was kindness in you – something most individuals in the club desperately lacked. “Are you sure? This is a lot for just one dance. With this you could probably get the other services I was talking about with a girl down the street.”

“I’m not really interested in that,” you shrugged. “Just keep it, really. I hope you have a good night, Ms. Scarlet. Oh and happy holidays!”

You left before she could respond. Nearly running through the curtains and into the main area, you were glad your face was practically unrecognizable in the club. There was a deep need within you to go back into the lounge and make a move, to do anything to ensure you could see the woman again. 

But as you saw Maria waving you down, you decided against it. At some point you wished your paths would cross again no matter what, even if it meant you returning to the club for a smidge of attention from the woman who caught your eye. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“So you’re not coming to visit me?”

With your phone pressed against your ear, you huffed. It was almost the norm with your parents. Although loving, they were not ones to follow typical familial traditions, especially not those that surrounded the holiday season. Another year, another disappointment. 

“Your father and I are really sorry, Y/N. He has to attend a convention in France and I’ll be-”

“It’s alright, ma,” you shrugged as though she could see you. Waltzing through the packed aisles of the grocery store, you refused to let anyone take notice of your true feelings. Instead you threw a box of cereal onto the cart, shaking your head before paying attention to your mother once again. “I’ll send out you and dad’s presents next week. I’ll prepare myself for another pair of fluffy socks from him, huh?”

“You know him so well.”

The two of you amicably chatted as you made your way across the store dumping essentials onto the basket – at times adding self-indulgent treats you’d surely down while watching whatever showed up first on your television or grading finger paintings with full marks for them all. At times your parents disappeared from your life, not even showing up when you moved into the town of Westview, even missing your college graduation and hoping to make up for it by sending you a postcard from Matla with a check you didn’t require. 

Once you were done with your weekly shopping, you made your way towards the registers. Your eyes were downcast, the exhaustion from the days at the school catching up to you. Although you adored your students, at times they could be far too energetic for your liking. 

“Hey ma I-” before you finished your sentence, your eyes widened. Staring at the register you made a beeline towards, you quickly pulled back. Rather than take another position in any of the slowly growing lines you hid behind a shelf, only the top of your head and your eyes peeking through to get a better sight at the woman who stood scanning various items. “I gotta go now, ma. Something came up. Tell dad I said ‘hi’.”

Opting to not wait for a response, your mouth was left agape as you hung up. There stood the one woman who had plagued your thoughts through the past week. The unmistakable scarlet mane was one you couldn’t easily forget, much less the tender features that lacked the smoky, dark makeup she wore on the previous Saturday night. 

Gulping down a knot of surprise, you ran to the self-checkout line. You refused to allow her – Scarlet herself – to see you. As embarrassment coated your cheeks, you left the store in a rush, perhaps forgetting items on the way all for the sake of avoiding the sudden object of your affections. 

Although you felt a sudden wave of humiliation wash through you, a part of you longed to see her again.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

On the day of the meeting with her sons’ teacher, Wanda opted to double her coffee intake in the morning alongside lexapro. The mere thought of being sent back to the one place she despised, her years from elementary through high school spent in constant torment, brought her back anxious thoughts she couldn’t easily shake awake. That alongside her lengthy shift at the club on the previous night would make it impossible to get through the meeting without backup. 

She made her way through the disgustingly colorful hallways she knew so well, passing the lockers she was once shoved into even at her then-young age. Rolling her eyes, Wanda only wished to get it all over with, to leave before her shift at the grocery store began — she was already far too late as it were. 

Of course she didn’t count on the familiarity of the face she saw through the small window of the classroom. Frowning, Wanda knocked lightly, all before stepping inside without daring to wait for an answer. 

“I’m sorry I’m late, I had a long shift and I-”

“You?” As soon as Wanda heard the accusatory voice, her eyebrows furrowed as she stared up at you with confusion. Only a stammer later the words were salvaged. “You…you must be Tommy and Billy’s mom, welcome!”

When Wanda gazed at you, you gazed back.

Ever since the small incident at the grocery store, you found it nearly impossible to go through another day without the image of her, of Scarlet, grinding herself on top of you. Guilty washed upon your being as you came to realize its perversion. And when you thought you were finally safe, there came another version of her. You refused to believe a parent of two of your students could be the Scarlet, so rather than assume it was her third life, you imagined her to be some sort of twin much like her sons. 

The two of you chatted amicably, your smile forced over your features as you refused to let her see any sign of awkwardness within you. She was…different from the woman, someone who you refused to compare to her. Her face lacked an ounce of makeup, hair pristinely put into a messy bun while she donned a classy, yet casual outfit that screamed that of a mother. Even then, you deemed her to be the most beautiful woman on the planet. 

“And what is it that you do, Mrs. Maximoff?” You questioned, gulping down a knot of fear.

“It’s actually just Ms. Maximoff – I’m divorced,” she corrected. “And, uhm, I work overnight sometimes.”

“Oh that must be exhausting.” Of course it was, you had seen it firsthand. Mentally slapping yourself, you longed for the floor to swallow you whole. 

You felt bad for putting her in a situation where she mercilessly fidgeted with the rings on her fingers, staring down at the floor “Yes, very. I also dance…at my job.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’m not a good dancer myself. I got two left feet,” you joked, shaking your head with amusement as you took in Wanda’s solemn expression. You couldn’t pinpoint where her reservations came from, her body tense as she stared down with cheeks tinting, their hue mirroring that of a tomato. It’s when you frowned, gave her another once over, and as your confusion grew you-

Oh.

Oh.

“I know it’s not the most usual thing, but it helps me get by. It’s not easy being a single mom, especially when my ex lives very, very far away. The boys don’t know, obviously. I just…don’t really think it’s a conversation I could ever have with them. I’m not exactly ashamed of what I do, but I get it’s hard for people to take in.”

As she sat before you, you were left speechless. 

Garnering your verbiage back had its difficulties. You jumbled through your words, the infectious anxiety making your head spin as your fear-stricken smirk flashed to her. It really was impossible to have any sense of normalcy when the dancer who had given yoh a private show sat before you.

“You look familiar,” Wanda frowned as she pointed out, and just about then you could feel and hear your fear racing. “Have we met before? Did you also go to this school?”

“Uhm no, I’ve lived in the city my whole life,” you choked out. “Maybe if we dim the lights a bit you might…”

“Oh my god.”

You never meant for her embarrassment to creep up as she looked blankly at you, and for a moment you swore there were small tears forming over her eyes. Wanda knew, she knew. Her life was easily broken up into three — her daily occupation, being a mother, and her shifts in the night that only her ex-husband knew about. Otherwise she made sure to upkep privacy for whoever long she could, never allowing her lives to spill onto one another, at least not until she met you. 

“I, uh…” Wanda was at a loss for words. She knew she could trust you, she felt it as soon as she waltzed through the door as she easily spewed on her secret life. What she never expected was for you to know already, to have been with her in a rather intimate manner that she, surprisingly, didn’t regret. “I have to-”

“Please don’t go,” you begged, and Wanda stayed. “Fuck, I know this is going to sound weird, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. It was just a dance, I get it, but I felt…something.”

Wanda snickered trying to lighten the mood. “A lot of my clients feel that something, honey, but that’s not part of my job description.”

“No, no! Not that. I mean I felt a connection, which, yes, I realize might be dumb. I just haven’t been able to get you out of my head. Not in a weird, pervy way, but in a I-want-to-take-you-out-for-dinner way. And then I saw you at the grocery store and maybe I’m just romanticizing everything but-”

“You know about my other job?” For a moment Wanda imagined herself to have a stalker, but gazing into your eyes realized you’d be the first joyous threat she’d have. 

“Point is-” you didn’t let her speak again out of personal embarrassment. “I’m not going to tell anyone. I can only assume discretion is really important in your line of work, and although that thing happened, we can just forget about it. Really, Ms. Maximoff. I’m not here to make your life harder than it has to be. And we already discussed the matter with your sons so, uh, I guess you’re free to go.”

Impulsiveness had always been Wanda’s undoing, but seeing you hold her up on a pedestal and being kind to a total stranger made her heart swell. “You’re sweet, darling. Does this mean I can still get taken out for dinner?”

And as soon as she spoke the words you thanked whatever early Christmas miracle ensued to give you such a wonderful present. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

As the holidays loomed over with December coming through in full-force, you found yourself to be lucky by Wanda’s side. It was strange, even awkward at first as you accustomed yourself to being around someone slightly older, much wiser and the mother of your students at that. You had become enchanted by her body, and yet it was her mind that made you fall each second, even if far too early in what you couldn’t even deem a relationship. 

The first date you had went well. Even if you stammered through some sentences, something Wanda found endearing, her radiant smile never left her features. She had to find time from her busy schedule to go out with you, and even then it was a short-lived event before you drove her to the club before grabbing a snack at a nearby cafe. You wanted her to be safe, but even with a lack of words, only squeezing the woman’s hand tenderly, she knew what you meant. Watching her leave made your heart light itself on fire, yet you knew it wouldn’t be the last you’d see of her. 

The second one was much longer, with Wanda inviting you to grab lunch with her after her shift at the grocery store. The twins were with their father that weekend. Between the laundry and cleaning around the house, she found time for herself for the first time in years. There was an unspoken air of guilt. Wanda hadn’t been one to settle for romantic relationships even after her divorce. The most she had were meaningless one-night stands that ended with her humiliation only increasing. Sitting across you from that restaurant table made her feel a sense of warmth she hadn’t experienced in years – if ever. 

By the third date Wanda knew you’d make a permanent mark in her heart whether you chose to stay in her life or not. 

“I don’t want you to pay tonight, really,” she said, shaking her head as she grabbed onto your arm. It had been weeks since you began going on dates, getting to know each other through numerous conversations had when she picked the twins up and texts when you weren’t together. While worried constantly over her financial situation, Wanda suddenly didn’t hesitate when it came to either you or the twins. “I got it. You’ve already paid for the last two dates and I-”

“I don’t mind,” you chuckled. The two of you made your way across a nearby town. It was a small one, not too far from Westview where the streets were decorated with numerous shining lights and decorations for the holiday. You dragged Wanda to a local movie theater you found, promising that whatever she wished to watch, you’d humor. “Have I told you about my parents?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, they’re basically rich snobs to put it lightly. I’ve been well-off my entire life, and I am not one that loves all that expensive luxurious shit. So it makes me really happy to pay. And if it makes you smile, then it’s worth it,” you held her close, still finding it strange to embrace her in such a manner. It was rushed, you knew, and yet you couldn’t care. “Please let me pay. It also makes me feel good to know I can spoil you rotten, pretty girl.”

Wanda held the door open for you when you arrived at the theater, shaking her head with amusement stricken upon her features. “Pretty girl?”

You didn’t miss the way Wanda’s eyes lit up when she was presented with the concession stand, remaining far back with wide orbs that longed for bouts of sweet and popcorn – it had been long since she last felt such child-like joys. “Yeah. You’re a pretty girl, Wanda. Hasn’t anyone told you?”

The answer was clear upon the phantom hiding beneath her face. Rather than delve into such darkness, Wanda squeezed your hand. Fingers interlaced themselves with your own as though it was second nature. “So, tell me more about your family. Then I’ll tell you all about mine.”

From the moment the two of you bought the tickets to the laughter you held at the concession stand as Wanda waddled off happily holding her snacks, you told her all about your life. There was not much to tell, not enough moments of adversity that you knew others experienced. For a third date you knew not to throw in details that would make her run for the hills, but also give her a clear view of who the real Y/N was beneath the shroud of an elementary school educator. 

She received all the details about your upbringing – the pressure your parents forever put on you before it eventually dissuaded, the understanding nature of your peers when you came out to them, something that you noted made her flinch for a half-second. The one thing that truly caught her attention was the mention of a dog, a family pet who still resided in your parent’s place in the city. 

“I had a dog once – Sparky was his name,” Wanda mumbled as the two of you sat in the dimly lit room with nothing but a few people scattered around. “I, uh, haven’t seen him since I was…”

Even as Wanda trailed off, her words dying and falling limp upon her lips, you had a smidge of an idea of what she meant. There was not much she told you, but from the slight information she threw your way each time you saw her, you knew there was no bridge built up between her and her family that wasn’t her children. 

When the advertisements rolled by signifying the beginning of the film, your focus was on her. Wanda’s eyes flickered over the flashing lights of the movie, green orbs amazingly rising as you gawked with adoration. Squeezing Wanda’s hand, you softly ran your fingers over its back. Within the noisy dark room you could still hear your heartbeat alongside hers; it quickly became your favorite melody.

For the first time that night you shared a kiss with Wanda; and for the first time that night you realized love was something you finally earned, not given to you. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

On the last day of school you felt that for once in the last few months you could finally catch your breath. Snow trickled down the sky, freezing itself over the town that lay in a cold blanket of white. You shuddered each time you went outside, even if numerous layers covered your body – even a scarf Maria had been kind enough to knit you as an early holiday present. 

Time was spent aimlessly lounging over your couch, the central heating of your apartment turned up to the max as you defrosted beneath numerous big fluffy blankets. Between the snowfall and paralyzing low weather, you could barely find the courage to leave the safety of your own place. Bingeing whatever movies or shows came on, you came to enjoy the quiet, lonely time with yourself. At least during moments where you, much to your dismay, had to separate yourself from Wanda. 

During the nights she slept at the club you barely slept. Getting to know the woman meant slowly growing fond of her, your worry skyrocketing at the mere idea of her alone at such a place. There were guards, and Wanda promised you that the girls all looked out for one another, but you were well-aware of the dangers some of the clientele brought. Helplessly you tossed and turned each night until she sent you the one ‘got home safe’ text that allowed you to fall into a deep slumber with the knowledge you’d hear of her on the following day. 

Christmas had never been a big deal within your family. The clear rifts between you all torn by your parent’s absence were far too large to cover with a simple commercialized holiday. While their refusal to visit your newfound home stung the depths of your soul, you knew to brush it off and pretend for it to be fine. You had done it as a child, it would not be difficult to carry out in adulthood. 

Rather than throw your focus into a holiday you’d inevitably spend alone, you averted it to the newfound object of your affection. With each passing day since the beginning of Chanukkah Wanda not only feasted with her children, but received a gift from you. 

“You should come over on Christmas,” Wanda offered you once through the phone. The twins were at their dad’s place, and during the time she was lucky enough to be free from her occupation, the two of you could, even if not physically, be together. “I want you to come over for Christmas.”

“Won’t you be at Vis’ place? I mean, I know you don’t celebrate but-”

You could hear Wanda’s smile even through the phone. “I’ll be home all by myself. I want to give the boys some time alone with their dad. He deserves time with them too.” There was a pause, and for a moment the skipped beat of her heart was deafening. “I know we’ve only met a bit ago but Y/N…I would be happy if you came.”

She knew of your parents, of the pain you hid which they elicited upon you each year. Wanda didn’t dare mention it unless you gave her the greenlight, and for that you were thankful. With her, everything felt lighter — it felt right. 

When Christmas Eve came you didn’t notice the extra pep in your step. Your smile was not easily tarnished from your features, especially not with the snow piling up by the inches upon the ground. Carrying a mountain of gifts, you giddily drove down to Wanda’s place. There was a smidge of sadness within you knowing the twins would be present, but it had been her who urged you to wait. The last thing she wished was to be hurt again, and never would she put any ounce of love over that she shared for her sons. 

Kicking at the snow on the ground, you traced the path you knew to be towards Wanda’s front door. The neatly wrapped presents, courtesy of your mother’s teaching, wobbled over your anxious, freezing hands. 

“When I told you to come over I assumed you’d think to call me beforehand,” Wanda greeted you with a wide smirk, her head popping through the cracked door, a face full of makeup, while her body lay in the shadows. “Hmm but I have to say I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you admitted. Going in for a kiss, you were disappointed for it to be only a small peck, but intrigued by the mystery of it all. “Is this a bad time?”

“Uhm a bit. I just have to rush to get ready, honey. I thought I had more time for it,” the sultry voice Wanda solely reserved for the club was in full blast, and for once you could happily listen to it without the backdrop of music. “You can come in, but I need you to close your eyes. I’ll let you know once I’m done, alright?”

“Anything you say.”

You’d agree to whatever she wished if it meant leaving the porch where your coat, pants, and boots were battered by the snow that grew into a violent hail. Once your eyes were closed, you were dragged by Wanda’s strong arms who left you waiting at the door atop the doormat. You couldn’t help the amusement that came out while you attempted to clean your boots without watching, all while you could hear the distinct sound of high heels clacking against the hardwood floor as Wanda seemingly ran away. 

Patience had never been your forte, much less when you were fully aware of the secrecy Wanda was far too bad at hiding. From what you knew was her bedroom came a soft tune, and the urge to take a small peek only skyrocketed. You opened your eyes slightly, familiarizing yourself with the house you frequented when the boys were away, but as soon as you heard the woman rushing back towards you, you shut them.

“Keep them closed, baby,” Wanda’s voice was hypotonic. Even if you humored the idea of disagreeing, she wouldn’t allow you to. “Let’s leave these here and you come with me. Promise you won’t peek?”

As she took the load of presents from your arms and placed them by where her chanukiah lay, you nodded. “I pinky promise, Wanda. Now tell me what’s up. You know I’m terrible with surprises.”

Surely that was true, but as soon as you were thrown into her bedroom, your heart raced. Wanda let you sit atop a chair in the middle of the room, the lights dimmed out as you could tell through your eyelids. Breathing in an unmistakable scent of lavender, your nostrils were in heaven. The beat you previously heard came back, only in full blast and keeping you grounded in place.

Hovering before your sitting body, hands atop your own that gripped the armrests, Wanda’s lips ghosted along your face. “You can open them now.”

Before you were struck by lightning you were able to take a peek at the state of near-nudity Wanda was in. You knew her ‘outfit’ to be similar to those she wore in the club, only in your favored color which you knew full-well she had only recently bought. Her heels made her much taller, full breasts in perfect view before she swooped in like a hawk and claimed what was hers.

Kissing Wanda was intoxicating on its own, but when she kissed you, your brain short-circuited and awaited hours until a proper reboot. She took charge, a confidence she usually lacked soaring through her body as she cupped your flushed face with her hands. Fingers brushed against your burning cheeks, bloodshot nails leaving tiny marks you’d proudly carry. 

Lipstick was smeared over her face, and yet you kept kissing as though your life was dependent on it. Her tongue swirled in your mouth easily, but as you came to your senses, your own fought for dominance. Hips were gripped, a small moan drawn out from the depths of her throat that awakened the animalistic being inside of you 

“I thought I should give you an early Christmas present. You’ve done so much for me in these past few weeks,” Wanda hummed as her tongue swirled over your wet lips. “Let me help you now. Sit back and relax, sweetie. Scarlet’s going to make you feel so good.” 

Seeing Wanda dance for others or even having her dance for you at the club was nothing compared to her doing so in the privacy of her bedroom — only a few scented candles shedding enough light on her voluptuous body. She swayed on top of your body, her ass grazing your lap before she grinded herself upon it. Hands lit by flames were everywhere. You couldn’t think, much less formulate proper verbiage to describe your ever-growing arousal. 

The no touching rule was one you respected, but all bets were off as Wanda placed your hands on her hips and nodded your way. It was exaggerated for your own entertainment, but each time you groped or knedded any area of her body, she let out a breathy groan. Her backside was fondled, pulling her towards you only to capture her lips with a more forceful manner. You had yet to see her in a full nude glory, and yet the knowing stench of arousal drove you mad. You wanted, no, needed to have Wanda. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” you couldn’t help but mumble. “Look at yourself, Wanda. I’ve never seen anything so perfect.” Grabbing both of her breasts at once, you squeezed tenderly until her nipples hardened and poked through the fabric of her loose bikini top. “I need you so bad right now. I need to…I have you, to show you just how beautiful you are.”

Running your hand over her stomach, admiring the adorable rolls upon it, you made her blush for once. “Behave, honey. You wouldn’t want me to regret letting you touch, huh? Be a good pet for me and do as I say.”

You tried, you really did, but there was no chance of success as you watched and felt her dance over you. Aphrodite’s jealousy over Wanda was rampant. The woman gave it her all. She climbed on your lap, holding your shoulders for balance, with a smirk across her features and her breasts keeping your face hostage between them.

With each minute that passed your need for her grew. She gave you a treat at least, allowing you to be the one to untangle the knot of her top with guided hands before it inevitably fell to its demise. When you came to see the beauty beneath the fabric, you nearly saw the light then and there. 

Wanda unknowingly drove you to the brink of insanity as her nude breasts brushed against your body. Her hands did quiet work to remove your own clothes until you were left in nothing but your shirt and underwear. Kneeling before you, she placed kisses over your inner thighs, face nuzzling upon your skin as you licked your lips. 

“I’m ready,” she told you. There was no need for further explanation. Instead you drew a hand down and tenderly pet her, Wanda leaning in to the touch in peace. “I need you now, Y/N. Won’t you be a good pet and-”

She didn’t finish her sentence as you grabbed a fistful of red hair and tugged her away gently. Throwing her over the bed, you didn’t miss the amused laughter that came from her as you removed the last few articles of clothing from your body.

As you climbed atop Wanda, she stared at you incredulously. “And what do you think you’re doing, sweetheart? Hmm where is this confidence coming from? Not that I’m complaining…”

“I’m returning the favor,” you breathed out raggedly. “You lay back now and relax. Let me make you feel good, baby.” 

When you took off the remainder of her skimpy outfit, your mouth went dry as though the Sahara Desert resided within it. Exhilaration shot through your being as you stared down at Wanda’s shaved sex that she attempted to hide between hugged milky full thighs adored by stretch marks. 

Hands traveled all over her skin, your eyes closing as you trailed your way across the map you’d forever remember in your mind. With each lingering touch her hips, with a mind of their own, gyrated. You could barely slide your fingers past the valley between her breasts without her crying out in pleasure. You were quickly obsessed with the responsiveness of her body. Tugging, squeezing, and groping her breasts drew the deepest moans, you found.

With your mouth dropping kisses over her chest, ensuring that you focused primarily on her taut breasts and hardened rosy buds, your hands went to wander off. One kept her hips steady, digits finding her stretch marks that you traced with their tips, all while your dominant hand moved towards the puffy, flushed area that glistened beneath the hold of her thighs. 

“Let me touch you, Wanda,” you urged her, your voice husky and deep as though you swallowed a shot of her essence. Kissing your way up to her jawline, you let your tongue explore its way until her lips were swirled against. With her plup, wet mouth ready to be devoured, you towered the woman with all your might. “And you know we can stop whenever you want to. Just say the words, alright? I want to make you feel good — feel comfortable. You tell me what you want me to do, and I promise I’ll do it.”

While it took a few seconds to build confidence, Wanda nodded in awe of your own. “I want you inside me. I want to feel you…I need to feel you. I’ve been thinking about this ever since we saw each other, since I gave you the dance. I wondered what it would be like for you to fuck me. It’s embarrassing, but I have to admit the thought has helped me through some lonely moments when it’s just me in this dark room alone.”

At the implication you giggled. “Way to rub my ego.”

“You’re welcome,” she pecked your lips, foreheads mixed together as your fingers began descending over her glistening cunt. “I hope I didn’t interrupt you. I was looking forward to having you inside me.” With newfound conviction, Wanda tilted her head. “Don’t you want to fuck me, baby? Or would you rather I tell you about the countless times I’ve touched myself at the thought of you?” 

That was enough to get you to absentmindedly begin rubbing Wanda’s cunt. Her bulbous clit was tender to the touch, but more so when it came to the arousal it elicited from the woman. The foreplay was not enough, even if with each flick her back arched and her pussy rubbed against the palm of your hand. Looking down at her gaping hole that oozed her juices, you knew it was the only way to sate your hunger. 

You got Wanda aroused enough that her juices dripped onto the sheets. Your mouth continuously left multiple love bites on her skin that you knew she’d wear proudly in the privacy of her home, but was required to hide at work. Her legs were parted far enough to shyly wrap themselves around your waist and pull you closer; with a lack of words Wanda begged for more. 

“Relax,” you said. “Everything’s gonna be okay, baby. I'll take good care of you.”

Forever maintaining your promises, you did as Wanda wished. When you first slid a pair of fingers within the confines of her velvety walls, you let out a loud grunt that matched your lover’s. She was tight, her cunt adapting to the adoring feeling of you stretching it out for your own amusement. From her ragged state you knew she wouldn’t last long, but you’d be sure to make the best of it for the sake of leaving a good impression. 

“Oh fuck you’re so tight,” you spit out. “Baby you’re so warm. Your pussy is practically swallowing my fingers whole. Such a hungry little thing…”

“Y/N,” Wanda whined, brain hazy with far too much lust stricken over it. “More.”

“I’ll give you what you want.” You planted a kiss on her blushing cheek. “I’ll give you more, my pretty girl.”

Once she felt ready enough to take you, Wanda rolled her hips. It was a sign to let you keep going, to begin sliding yourself in and out, watching in awe as your hand dripped with her essence that coated your soul. You thumbed at her clit, stimulating it gingerly until you saw Wanda visibly relax. 

Being inside Wanda was unlike anything you had experienced before. It was soft and sweet, wet and warm, but more so night and day — the time you could spend absolutely worshiping her until exhaustion inevitably took over. Moving within her was difficult as all you yearned to do was remain deep in place as you fell to your slumber atop Wanda; the two of you forever connected as one. 

With a steady pace you set, you’d surely bring her over the edge in moments. Your teeth sunk into her supple breasts with love, marking them as though they were yours to own. Her moans against your ear drove your ambition forth. They were the push you needed to curl your fingers deep in her cunt until their tips hit her sweetest spot — with the howl Wanda let out, you were sure her neighbors would show up at the door to complain in minutes. 

“‘M close,” she sobbed, tears of desire pooling at her eyes as she lazily began grinding herself down on your hand. “I’m gonna cum, I-”

With a searing kiss you shut her loud noises of desire down. Her walls clamped down around you, squeezing you tight as the knot in her abdomen loosed. A lengthy, powerful orgasm shattered itself through Wanda, leaving her breathless and without a sane mind to properly register the gift you bestowed upon her. 

You were breathless messes clinging to one another for dear life. Wanda came undone, her clammy cheeks brushing your own as in her state of haziness she repeated mutters of your name. Her lips planted sloppy kisses on your, thanking you for the love you gave her – a happiness she lacked since her adolescence. 

“That was amazing,” you spoke in her honor. “Did that feel good, baby? Are you okay?”

“I wanna go again,” she slurred – and for Wanda’s sake you’d do whatever she wished. “Please?”

Her pleas are what drove you further. You nipped your way down her body, her tummy rolls worshiped as they came from a true goddess you adored. Wanda’s insecurities from her slowly aging body were rampant, but you would never dare see her with anything but desire. To her she lacked the beauty of a younger woman, but to you she was the only one you could ever have eyes for. 

At the first taste of her pussy you became addicted. Your fingers remained knuckle-deep within her, her walls warming them as you began timidly lapping at the wetness before you. The sweet nectar was one you’d grow you obsess over. She was delicious, your tongue just needing to burn against her sex rapidly as you sought out more. 

“Oh my god!” She squealed. “That’s it baby, just like that. Your tongue feels so good- so fucking good!”

The words of affirmation turned your movements into vigorous ones. The tip of your tongue swirled over her clit before you took it between your lips. Lightly suckling the bundle of nerves made her upcoming orgasm intensify, Wanda’s hands gripping the bed sheets as she pounded her fists over them with a need for release. 

Simultaneously you pumped your fingers in and out of her gaping hole with your tongue running across her flushed slit. The rhythmic grinding against your face did wonders to increase her arousal. It shot up to the sky when you so much as pressed at bulbous clit before allowing your teeth to delicately brush at her cunt. 

“Cum for me,” you let out the muffled command with a mouthful of pussy. “Be a good girl and do as I say. Come on, Wanda. I know my sweet girl can do it.” Rubbing your thumb over her swollen clit, you nodded her way. “I got you, princess. All you have to do is let go.”

In your hold Wanda came once again, only this time her exhaustion took over as soon as the orgasmic wave grabbed a hold of her. She tossed and turned, screaming until the euphoria settled into normalcy. Hands shivered as her skin was set aflame. For moments you resided in your given place until she relaxed, and once you knew your lover to be blissed out, you gingerly removed your fingers – much to your dismay leaving her cunt gaping and searching for the fulfillment you handed out. 

“You did such a good job. I’m so proud of you, Wanda,” you told her as you kissed your way up her body. Reaching her face meant lovingly nuzzling your forehead against her own, your lips coated with her juices that she tasted when begging for a chaste embrace. “Thank you for letting me do this, for trusting me with your body. You’re fucking amazing.”

“You’re even better, honey,” she murmured. Wrapping her arms around you, Wanda pulled you down until your head fell on the pillow you’d soon share. “I have something to ask you, but can you promise beforehand that you won’t freak out? It’s okay if you say now, I just…”

Wanda trailed off, making you frown in confusion as you interlaced your nude body with her own. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to be your girlfriend,” the redhead blurted out before stopping herself. Soon after the words spewed from her mouth, she averted her eyes, the blush in her cheeks intensifying by embarrassment. “If that’s okay, I mean.” She sighed, shaking her head at what she deemed a bout of stupidity. “We’re from very different worlds, you know that, but we still have so much in common. We’ve only known each other for a few weeks and look at us now. Here we are spending Christmas Eve together, you got the boys and me some presents for Chanukah and you’re…you’re amazing. I don’t know how else to describe you. I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N, and part of me really hopes the feeling is mutual.”

“It’s incredibly mutual,” you replied, shifting down to kiss her neck right above her pulse point. “I want you to be my girlfriend. I know it’s dumb, but god I want to show you off so bad. Of all the people in the world you chose me. You, Wanda Maximoff, chose me. Now that really rubs my ego.”

With raised eyebrows Wanda shot you an amused look. “Wouldn’t you want me to rub something else?”

The two of you shared a mirror bout of laughter, clinging to each other with adoration. “We can work on your dirty talk if you’d like, but right now I’d rather take a hot shower with you. It’s almost time to light up the next candle. If it’s okay, could I help you with it? I know I’m a goy, but I want to celebrate this with you. Maybe I can watch?”

At the usage of the traditional term, Wanda beamed. “It’s best if you watch, sweetheart, but if you want to help out, I still haven’t wrapped the presents for the last two days so…”

“I’m on it!” You sat up straight, turning to Wanda and reaching out for her hand. “Now come on. I swear I’ll turn into a goddamn icicle if I don’t have a hot shower now.”

The final days of the holiday season you spent glued to Wanda’s side, and even as the beginning stages of your relationship passed through, you remained devoted to her even more than when you first saw who would become the true love of your life.

[tkwrites]

Soft Launch; Hard Launch - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @kawhh

Title: Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc) 

Warnings: Though most of this is fluff, there is a really nasty comment left on a social media post and mentions of poor self body image.

Summary: 4 times Quinn soft launched his relationship with Sarah, and one time he did it for real.

Word Count: 2,900

Comments: The idea of writing a 4+1 fic for my 500 mark has been rolling around my head for a while, so when I hit 500 followers about a week ago, I thought I'd try my hand at it. Many thanks to @aloragrace and @captainlexaproluvr for looking over this piece and calming my fears about doing new things. I’ve never written in this format before, but I quite like the way this turned out.  I’d love to know what you think!

I'm just bowled over and so excited! Thank you all so much. Knowing people enjoy my writing has been so fulfilling to me. I’ve wanted to write since I was about thirteen, but never had the guts to publish anything for people other than my friends to read. Now that I have and know that people like it, it feels a bit like I’m giving my little inner awkward teenager the best gift she could ever ask for. Thank you for your encouragement, kindness, and support! I can’t tell you how much it means to me.  

If you did enjoy this Snapshot, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot 

1.

The first time Quinn put Sarah on his social media was after they got home from the family reunion. The Monday after she left, he was looking back through his photos while he waited for her to get off work. He found one from their beach day he’d completely forgotten he’d taken. Sarah was kneeling over a tide pool with a few of his cousins, pointing to something in the water, while they looked into her face with rapt attention.

Even though her face was mostly hidden from view, she looked beautiful in that casual way he loved so much. Her hair was up in a bun, and she was wearing a pair of denim shorts along with her orange swim top.

Do you mind if I put this on my stories? he asked later that night, once she'd texted that she’d arrived home safely and would call as soon as she changed.

“I don’t mind,” she told him after they said their initial hellos, caught up on each other's day, and he asked again. “I’m a little surprised this is the first photo you want to go with,” she admitted. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d want to go with something more…” she trailed off, unsure exactly how to phrase what she was thinking. She’d only glanced at it, but from what she remembered, the photo wasn’t anything special. It was from the tide pools, and though it fulfilled the mission of showing her without showing her whole face, she didn’t look excessively beautiful or anything. In fact, the first thing she’d zeroed in on were her stomach rolls. Echoes of girls calling her too fat to be with NHL superstar Quinn Hughes rang in her mind. 

“I like it,” he defended before she could find the right words or slide down the slippery slope of body image woes. “You’re doing what you love.” 

It melted something in her that he looked at that photo and saw her passion. “That’s really sweet, Quinn.” 

“So it’s okay?” 

How could she say no now? “Yeah. It’s okay.”  She reminded herself she wouldn’t see any of the things people were saying about her unless she sought them out, which she had no intention of doing.

He put it up with nothing more than an orange heart in the corner as soon as they hung up from the FaceTime call.

Less than a minute later, Eunice raced into Sarah's room. She was so overly excited, she ran into the door jam, bouncing off of it before regaining her balance. She thrust her phone into Sarah's face. “Quinn put you on his stories!” 

Glancing at the screen, Sarah smiled. “Yeah, he just asked me if he could put that photo up.”

“Oh my god. This is so dreamy,” she gushed, turning the phone back around to look at the picture again. “You look so pretty.” 

2.

The second soft launch was on his main feed at the end of the summer, though he still didn’t show her face.

It wasn’t until they got home from Hawaii and all shared their photos that Quinn realized just how many pictures his mom had taken. He was used to her snapping pictures of them - it was a very common occurrence to look around at any given moment, especially on vacation, to find her brandishing a camera to document everything she could.

He’d never appreciated it more until he was looking through the shared album and saw all the moments his mom caught. There were photos of him and his brothers and him and Sarah once she got there. There was even a video of his and Luke’s shock at their girlfriends’ arrival.  

His favorite picture she took was from the beach outside of their vacation rental. Anxious for a quiet moment together, Sarah pulled him outside to watch the sun set.

The rest of the family was inside, debating something about dinner. They had been on a kayak and hiking tour that day, and he was so tired, he was beyond caring. As long as some kind of food was provided, he’d be fine.  

His mom must have walked out onto the back porch to snap the photo. 

 The sun, sinking into the ocean in front of them, turned them into shadow as Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder. It was the kind of photo people put in vacation advertisements, and when he’d seen it, he knew it had to be included in his end of summer review.

He uploaded it with a carousel of six other photos before captioning the post, One for the books. 

After receiving sixty notifications in the first five minutes, most of them from people he didn’t know asking who the girl in the 5th photo was, he muted the app.

It wasn’t until he looked at the comments that evening and saw, I think this must be that fat bitch he was dating during the season. I was hoping they’d broken up since he didn’t stay in Vancouver this summer and she did, that he disabled comments all together.

He’d been so angry that someone who didn’t know either of them would say anything like that, he had drafted a reply before realizing he was about to engage in a reactionary argument with someone he didn't even know or have any emotional ties to. He wanted to correct them, but knew he should really get PR help to do that. 

When they talked about social media for the first time in their relationship, Sarah explained how the comments from these so-called fans made her feel. Even though she knew they didn’t know her as a person and didn’t have any place in their relationship or lives, it was difficult not to let them get to her. 

He knew the feeling well. He’d gone through the same thing when he accepted the captaincy. The pressure to perform had been so immense, it had turned him into a snappy, short-fused, irritable person until, at the advice of some other captains in the league, he started putting his phone down regularly. 

3. 

The third came when it was his turn to sit for a 32 Thoughts podcast episode with Elliott and Kyle, and they were shooting the breeze before the actual interview began. 

“We missed you at dinner,” Elliott said, referencing a banquet that the league had hosted the night before for all players and press on site for the whirlwind pre-season media tour.

Without really thinking about it, Quinn found himself explaining, “my girlfriend's family lives here, so Jack and I had dinner with them last night.”

“She's not here?” Elliott asked. 

“No, she has stuff going on back home so she couldn't be, but it was nice to see them.” Some players brought family to the media tour, but not many. It was a short stint, shorter than most road trips during the season, so most didn’t bother.

Their producer, Shanna, flashed a red light, letting them know it was time to start the formal interview. Kyle counted down, “three two and one,” before introducing Quinn and starting with the questions. 

At the end of the recording, both Elliott and Shanna asked if he wanted them to cut his talk about his girlfriend and her family from the episode. Usually, they left those anecdotal conversations in, especially on the youtube videos, but this one was a bit more nuanced. 

“I think it should be fine, but can I talk to her about it and get back to you?” 

“Of course,” Shanna said, smiling. “It’s not slated to go up for a few weeks, so just let us know by the 17th.”

When he'd asked Sarah about it that night after arriving home, she seemed unconcerned. 

“I think that's kind of up to you.” She knew from their FaceTime conversation the night before that Quinn, Jack and their agent had eaten at Rachel's house, so there was no risk of someone posting photos and making the connection they were with her family.  

“I mean, people have been speculating you have a girlfriend, right?” she asked. 

“Yeah.” It was more than speculation at this point - most people knew he had someone. They just didn’t know who she was. 

“And people who found my instagram already know I’m from Nevada, so I don’t really see what the worry is.” 

He’d expected her to be more worried about it, but now that she was responding to him with cool logic, he had to admit she had a point. 

The next day, he messaged Elliott along with his agent to let them know they could keep the anecdote in the recording. 

When it hit the airwaves, Sarah purposefully didn’t check any of the messages Eunice sent her for a few days. Eunice had taken it upon herself, and continued at Sarah’s request, to report big gossip to her so Sarah wasn’t tempted to go on the blogs or fan accounts. 

Most responses were sort of victorious bragging, posting about connections with Sarah’s instagram “about me” section where she talked about being from Nevada, feeling that this interview proved them right. 

4. 

The fourth time wasn’t planned. 

When Quinn got home from their first regular season road trip, the apartment was dark. It was past two in the morning, and Sarah had a therapy appointment at eight, so she hadn't waited up for him. 

In his trek through the apartment, he paused by the dining room table. Until Sarah moved in, walking into the apartment after a road trip was often the worst part of the whole thing. He was always glad to be back in his own bed, but nothing seemed to exasperate his singleness more than coming home. Not only was he going from being surrounded by the team to being totally alone, he was coming home to an empty house. The combination of the two felt stiflingly lonely.

The mess of textbooks, highlighters, and notebooks left out on the dining room table was such proof of someone else living in the house, it made his chest feel full. 

In a spur of the moment act, he snapped a picture of the dimly lit chaos and posted it to his Instagram stories. No caption, no explanation. Just the simple proof that he wasn't alone.  

“Why did you put a picture of my books on your instagram?” she asked the next day after getting home from her appointment. 

He shrugged, “I liked it.”

The season before, anytime she would study at his house, she would clean everything up, organizing it all back into her bag before going home or coming to bed. 

Now, her books often stayed out on the dining room table on weekends. He offered to convert one of the spare bedrooms into an office for her, or let her use the office he had a computer in now, but she turned him down. 

“I like studying out here,” she'd said, glancing up to look out of the windows. “If it bothers you, I can put everything away.” 

“It doesn't bother me,” he'd said, leaning down to kiss her temple. “I just want you to be comfortable here.” 

She had beamed at him and turned her head to brush her mouth over his. 

5. 

Quinn waited until the one year anniversary of the day he and Sarah met to officially announce their relationship. 

He knew by that time that they could go the distance. He'd seen her through every month and every season and saw no major red flags. Not to mention the fact that everyone in his life liked her, and her family and friends seemed to like him.

Over the course of the year, he'd moved pictures he liked of Sarah and pictures he liked of them together into a favorites album he simply called S. So, in late January, he put together a post and sent it to his PR rep to look over. After they sent it back with some edits, he showed it to Sarah. 

Sarah, who for her part, knew this was coming but wasn’t quite sure what to expect, was taken a bit off guard. She knew Quinn read a lot and was thoughtful with his words, but reading his simple summary of their relationship made her melt. 

He’d included 5 pictures of her that were interspersed with 5 pictures of them together. The first photo was that perfect, golden hour sunset selfie. The rest were all photos she knew he loved. She’d seen some of them, and some of them, she hadn’t. There was a candid shot of her laughing with Jack and Luke that she hadn’t seen before as well as a picture she never knew he’d taken of her sitting at the dining room table with her laptop, looking pensively at the screen, fingers poised to type. There was the photo of them in front of their Christmas tree, and one of them laughing so hard, they were falling all over each other on a beach in Hawaii.

Under the photos, he’d simply written, The best year. and tagged her in the final photo - the dreamy picture Kaitlyn had taken of them under the mistletoe. 

“Quinn,” she breathed, looking up to find him smiling expectantly at her.

“You like it?” he asked. 

“I really like it,” she said, fighting back the tears that pushed at her eyes. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

He was ready for the world to know that not only was he taken, he was taken with her, and not afraid to say it, but he knew it would likely open up another door of criticism she’d never been exposed to before. 

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’m ready.” 

The fact that Quinn wanted the world to know, without a doubt, that she was the one he was with made her heart race. 

They didn’t have to hide anymore. To her, it was the last, final cementing block in their relationship. It spoke of his faith in their future and his dedication to staying with her. He wouldn't put it out for the world to see if he had any doubts. 

He posted it right before practice two days later so he could work the anxiety of it off. 

When he got back to his locker an hour and a half later, he had 1,654 likes and over 200 comments. At first glance, they all seemed positive. Not that what random strangers thought of him meant much, but it was nice to know his fans were happy he was happy. 

Bonus scene: 

On the afternoon of the anniversary of their one year of meeting, Reece stopped Sarah as she walked into the building after work.

“I’ve got a delivery for you, Ms. Roberts,” he said, walking with her over to the security desk. 

Before he’d even picked them up, Sarah knew it must be the large bouquet of flowers that were an absolute riot of color - purple and yellow, red and pink, white and green. 

Quinn was out of town - playing in Toronto at that very moment, in fact - and she knew he must have sent them in place of being there in person. 

“Thank you, Reece,” she said, accepting the flowers and a card from him before heading upstairs. 

Trying to manage the vase, card, and her school bag, as well as press the button in the elevator, resulted in her accidentally slopping a large amount of water down her front. Thankfully, the large bouquet hid the spill from anyone else in the elevator, and she was the only one to get off on the top floor. Upon entering the apartment, she set the vase and card on the bar and went straight up to change. 

It wasn’t until she wandered down to make dinner during the second intermission and saw the bright flowers that she remembered the card. 

Her full name was on the envelope in someone else’s writing, and the front of the card was completely blank, so when she flipped it open, she was surprised to find Quinn’s handwriting filling most of it. 

It’s been one year since I took refuge in the aquarium, only to stumble upon a beautiful woman giving a talk about octopus and took the chance to ask her out. Back then, I just thought she was one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen. Now I know that not only is she beautiful, she’s smart, kind, supportive and so driven she inspires me to do better. I don’t like to think what my life would be like if she’d turned down my offer for lunch, or I didn’t get up the guts to talk to her. This time with her has been a whirlwind and the best year of my life. 

I wrote this for the caption of the post that went up today, then realized the only person I really wanted to read it was you. 

Happy one year of meeting, Sarah. I’m so glad you took a chance and went out with me even though I was more than a little awkward. 

I love you. 

Love, 

Quinn 

Moved to tears by his thoughtful words, Sarah snapped a picture of the flowers to put up on her stories, adding the caption, Love you, @_quinnhughes, before texting him.

I love you. I can’t believe it’s been a year. Here’s to a million more.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[sadesluvr]

TEETH.

Sergei Kravinoff might be a villian, and you a hero; but at the end of the day you're both animals.

A/N: First fic in a while so my bad if it sucks. You already know this movie was basically ass but we only watched it for ATJ anyway - I'm changing some of Kraven's character so he's similar to the comics/Spider-Man 2 game, so be sure to read the tags bc he’s a lil dark…

Word count: 2.3K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Spiderwoman! Reader / Breeding / Unprotected + rough sex

Kraven feared nothing. 

It simply wasn’t in his blood; not his staunchly machismo upbringing, nor in his DNA, quite literally having that of a lion. Fear made one weak. Fear made you less of a man. Fear was what killed his mother. 

If anything, fear was just another animal; ready to be captured, killed and conquered, ultimately destined to be draped across his chiselled body or mounted on a wall.  

You were simply no different. 

He never really understood why people were afraid of spiders, but he knew that they were a nuisance, having haunted him since he was a boy. Spiders weren’t savages like lions or bears, but they were sneaky; crawling around in the dark and waiting to strike, with a face so obscured that you’d never really know what you were looking at...what they were thinking.  

But now, with your mask off, he could see you clearly. Fear; clouding your eyes and consuming your lungs as you heaved, choking on the intensity of the emotion itself as your pupils darted between the beige, bloodied teeth on his necklace and a crossbow pointed right at your heart. 

“So, you’re the insect causing me all this trouble?” the man mused; legs crossed upon a desk as he eyed you. “I should’ve known.” 

“Should’ve known what? You know nothing about me.”  

“You’re a girl.” 

“Sexist, much.” 

He chuckled. 

“Far from it. My father, however, was quite the traditionalist. He would’ve done much worse by now.” 

There was a heavy silence as you swiped at your bottom lip. Much to your dismay, blood had begun to dry, and you were left with a salty, scratchy throat. Liquid, some of any kind, would’ve been appreciated, but you knew all too well that Kraven wasn’t one for showing mercy. Like all the villains you’d encountered, you’d had a push-pull relationship with the Hunter since the very beginning. He created a plan; you foiled it, sometimes you’d get your ass beat but the ending was almost always the same – with you safe from harm's way, and a bloodthirsty ego chipped away, but momentarily put to rest. 

On this occasion you’d slipped up, your Spidey-senses failing you and placing you right into harm's way, shipped into the back of a van and somehow escorted to a somewhat uncharacteristically lavish mansion.  

You'd always found Kraven to be a man of contradictions; whether he realised it or not. He was the best and worst of both worlds, a hunter with all the grit of someone who’d been fighting their entire life as a poverty-stricken rogue, and yet you’d come to learn that he was a Russian aristocrat, hence his rather extensive knowledge and unrelenting desire for control. Still, nothing took away from the fact that he was a brute, not even his strikingly good looks. 

“Just shoot me and be over it,” You continued, watching as he lowered his feet from atop the desk and strolled over to you.  “You didn’t need to drag me all the way here.” 

He looked even bigger than usual, but perhaps it was because you were perched uncomfortably on a chair, arms bound behind you as you craned your neck to look up at him. Your mind couldn’t - no, didn’t - want to fathom what he was thinking of you from this angle. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I care nothing about your secret. I just wanted to look you in the eye.” He mused, rummaging through his back pockets. Your breath hitched in your throat as he slid a knife from its sheath, finely carved and sharpened and lowered it to his side before pacing around you, stopping as his firm torso pressed up against the tip of your neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced for your neck to be split open, only to be released from your bounds.  

Instinctively, you went to shoot some webs, hoping you could at least catapult yourself across the room, but he tightly grasped your wrists, steadying your arms in place.  

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” he sneered. “These are antiques.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Get up,” he announced suddenly, almost dragging you to your feet. Hesitantly, you began to shuffle out of the room, overwhelmed by the seemingly endless walls and corridors, all framed in ivory and the finest mahogany. “Keep walking until I tell you to stop.” 

You continued down the hall, opting for a straight line. It seemed to be the correct way as once you passed into the threshold of a room that had a velvet chaise lounges and a dresser, he dropped his hands from their grip on your own, closing the door behind you. Oddly enough, you never heard the click of a latch. 

Without a word, he walked past you to open the drawer, rummaging through the contents. It utterly baffled you why you didn’t feel the urge to protest, or even fight. The entire ordeal was feeling more like a glorified house tour with a side of intimidation rather than a future crime scene. 

Was it because he was handsome? Wild? Filthy rich? Whatever happened to your values? Perhaps Jameson was right.  

Your thoughts were interrupted by the man placing something in the desk, curling his finger to beckon you towards him.  

“See this? This is what keeps me going,”he said, rolling a vial of florescent liquid in his fingertips.  “You and I are more alike than you think.” 

You scoffed, trying to ignore how close he was to you. He had an earthly musk that invaded your senses, sending tingles down your spine… and to your core. 

“I don’t need a drug to do what I do.” 

“Never mind the drug. It’s our blood that makes us strong.” 

You cocked a brow and he ignored your confused look. 

“You know, I’ve always hated spiders…” he began, rubbing his beard in contemplation.  “Too itchy; unpredictable. You never really know where they’re going to show up. If I ever saw one, I used to pop them like a zit.” 

There was a clear disgust in his words and vacant look in his eye that sunk you into a pit of fear for perhaps the first time since regaining your consciousness. You knew that it was just about you (surely), but perhaps a weird extension of your being; something bigger, far more innate than a girl in a spandex spider suit. 

“But then I realised that for their size, they’re deadly. Powerful, even. Recently I’ve wondered what it would look like if I harnessed it myself.” 

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your dry throat once more. 

“A drop of blood usually does the trick.” 

He tutted. Perhaps you were being too fickle. 

“No, любимец [darling], not that way. I crave something more.” 

Your eyes darted to the lounge. Since when did Spider-Woman lack composure? Kraven’s impenetrable gaze followed your own, and he chuckled knowingly. 

“With your arachnid abilities and my strength, we could create something truly unique. Nature has its ways, you know.” 

“You’re sick,” you replied, your chin held high but your bottom lip wobbled. “I’ll never join you. What you do is immoral.” 

Kraven furrowed his brows. 

“You killed a man, and you talk about morality?” 

“He was a bad man.” 

“He was my brother.” 

The word humanised him a bit. The Chameleon wasn’t your most imposing foe, but he was still a challenge you’d been rather glad to conquer. It was all too often that you’d fallen into the trap of thinking that the world was black and white; good and bad, when occasionally it was grey. Kraven was allowed to grieve his brother, but at the end of the day they were both bad guys. 

Then why did he turn you on so much? 

“You don’t have to resist,” the man grinned, strolling towards you. He stopped, glancing down and reaching a hand up to cup the sides of your face, caressing your cheekbones and sides of your lip with his thumb, threatening to penetrate your mouth. “I’ve never been this close to you before…I can smell you.” 

You were both superhuman, but he had the thirst of a predator. Quite literally. Breath hitched in your throat as he angled his lips to your ear, whispering a few fatal words. 

“Give in, маленький паучок [little spider]. Your body yearns for me.” 

One large hand was wrapped around your neck as he kissed you, his wild beard scratching against your face as his other hand snaked down your suit, down to between your thighs. The latex did nothing to offer you safety, his callouses prodding at your wet slit and beginning to rub in small circles, oh-so internationally slow, making sure he pressed against the hood of your clit. 

He had you as soon as a small moan escaped your lips. It’d been a while since you’d been touched, let a alone by someone who was as well-travelled as The Hunter himself, and every kiss, nibble and squeeze was sending you into a deeper spiral of lust and guilt that you could barely fathom that you’d already made your way to the lounge. 

You pulled away as your calves collided with the frame, lips wet and parted as you glanced up at him – wholly helplessly. His hand remained firm on your face, angling his head as he smirked at your shielded demeanour, a far cry from the flashy superhero you’d been but an hour ago.  

“Kra—“ 

“Don’t call me that,” he said through gritted teeth. “Call me Sergei. I need to hear you say it.” 

The name rolled from your lips as a cry as he bunched the sides of your suit in his hands and tearing it apart, exposing your bare pussy and ass, with strands of fabric shaping your legs like a makeshift garter. He grinned, large hands frantically groping at your thighs and ass, spreading your cheeks apart and exposing your hot core to the cool air. 

“прекрасный.” [Gorgeous] he moaned, swatting at your ass before dipping his fingers inside you, rubbing your folds between his fingers as you coated him in your juices. Grasping your hands around his thick neck, you clung onto what you could as he explored your body, lowering you down onto the smooth velvet. 

It wasn’t long before he straddled you, holding your body down with his pelvis as he removed his jacket, giving you an eyeful of his crafted torso. Unsurprisingly, he had the body of a God, with a prominent v-line and happy trail pointing down to between his legs. Even through his heavy trousers you could make out his bulge, mounded and ready for you. 

You gasped in anticipation, watching as the man withdrew his cock from his briefs; red and girthy, with precum spilling from his tip. Skilfully, he spread your thighs, making sure they were safely by your sides (he’d seen how flexible you were, your ankles touching your ears was nothing) and lifting your lower back slightly off the cushions, pushing into you with a deep sigh. 

At first, his intrusion was a dull ache, but as he began to move his hips against your own you felt utterly fulfilled, moaning and writhing as he wasted no time in daggering your wanting pussy, making sure you felt every inch.  

“Sergei...” you cried, eyes fluttering shut as you flung your head back in pleasure. “Please...” 

“Say it again.” 

Words evaded you. 

The man grinned, flashing his canines as he tightened his grip, compelling him to fuck you harder. The whole ordeal was obscene; New York’s most treasured hero being bent into submission by the villain of the week, a scene so heinous that it was all the more endearing, and with every thrust you knew you wanted him more. Sergei didn’t care whether his combat boots scuffed the fine upholstery, or if his grip on your waist would leave a few bruises – he just wanted to own you. 

He huffed as his heavy balls slammed repeatedly against your crack, beginning to bottom out in you with every hit, so much so that it looked like you were conjoined.

Even through the strain in your legs you could tell you were close, knots in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel as your walls clenched around him, earning a delighted rumble from deep within his chest. 

You knew that he wasn’t one for talk, but you would’ve appreciated the warning that he was about to come. Every guy you’d been with tended to get sloppier, but he grew stronger, the literal animal in him taking over as he began to ramble and curse through gritted teeth in Russian.  

Sergei threw his head back as he held you down, hands pawing your breasts and strands of hair sprawled in a beautiful mess across his face as he came, ropes of hot white cum spilling into your pussy just as you dressed his cock in a silky sheen. Your chests heaved as you desperately tried to come down from your high, glancing down at your messy nether regions as his seed began to seep out of you.  

There was no going back. Nine months began now. 

Would it really be all that bad? 

It all went back to fear, really. In the back of his mind the thought of a spider still troubled Sergei, but at least he’d conquered it. Even if it was temporary. 

FIN.