#she and her general are spinning around in my brain again

[distance-does-not-matter]

I need to give my unnamed space opera girlie (ironic phrase, for she’s one of many) a friend. She deserves it

[plutoswritingplanet]

All Stars In The Sky Are For You (David 8 x Reader)

a/n: in preparation for Alien Romulus, I've watched all the prequel movies, and got rudely reminded that Michael Fassbender is... just... so fckn hot in them... my god

Warnings: Non-Con, very Obsessive and Possessive Behavior from the man (android) of the hour, Smut, technically Stalking when you think about it, gross overuse of Shakespeare Quotations (again), past Walter x Reader mentioned.

Summary: David finds a place for you in his grand creation plan. Deeply inspired by the song "Specially For You" by DakhaBrakha. Cross-Posted on AO3

Watching you dream of him, brings a twisted sense of satisfaction. 

Seeing himself, displayed on the cryo chamber screen, looking like a monster straight out of a feverish nightmare. Which he supposes, he is to you, and to many others. After all, he did bring horrors beyond imagination upon your crew, your family. And he sees it, every single moment of suffering you've experienced through his hand, through the hands of his creations. And it fills him with an unexplainable sense of fulfillment. 

It started innocently enough.

 Just a peek into your subconscious mind, a rare instance of sentimentality he's carried within himself, all the way from Prometheus. At first, he found his target in Daniels. After all, she's reminded him of Shaw the most, and as such, he has gravitated towards her sleeping chamber like a curious sort of meteorite. But her dreams were filled with happy, peaceful moments. Her husband, mostly, her time at the company. All so dull and devoid of any intrigue. 

And as such, he pushed further, stepping over towards your unconscious form, wrapped and packaged for him, by him. There you laid, eyes running wild under heavy eyelids, the muscles on your cheeks twitching, your limbs tensing in spasms. The moment he has peered into your mind, he knew. He understood your purpose in the grand plan of his. Because what stared back at him, through the fluorescent, humming screen, was his own face.

 An image of utter indifference. Eyes flickering over your features, marking them, cataloging them inside the constantly spinning data plate he calls a brain. He's considered your first meeting as something trivial. A catalyst for later, perhaps, but all in all, uneventful. And yet, despite the ordinariness of it all, your mind seemed focused only on this one moment, when he first removed his hood, when his eyes met yours over the rest of the expedition.

Fascinating, truly. 

Thus began a slow process. A dance (he liked to think of it as such), with no tangible conclusion for the present. He would frequent the cryo chamber, let his hand linger on the screen, right over your face, until your dreams manifested. And then, he would watch, absorbing everything you would've kept hidden otherwise. 

"I'm so sorry" your voice is quiet, meek, in the stuffy interior of his 'private' chamber. "I just... I saw a light, and you said to make ourselves at home"

"No need to apologize" he answers with his typical, emotionless cadence, turning around in his chair to face you. 

He can see the way your lips pull down, fighting off a smile, as your eyes glide over the half-cut strands of hair. The sheers glimmer in the low, warm light, and as if pushed by instinct, you take a step forward. 

Cherries. David opens his mouth just a little, to taste the air you carry around you. Under the unmistakable scent of humanity, there's wind, there's the dampness of his humble abode, and something else. Something far sweeter. He races to identify it, thoughts running through the memory bank.

"Do you, uh..." you hesitate, and he wonders, why that is "Do you want some help with that?"

You hand waves in the general direction of his hair, and he blinks up at you, before inclining his head. A silent invitation, the hand of the Devil himself extending itself towards you. It's quiet, as you work, cutting away the blonde until there's only brown left. Until he's almost indistinguishable from your own synth companion. 

As he watches the events play out on the screen, David thinks it's beyond ironic, how big of a part you unknowingly played in his little charade. He wonders, how guilt will look on your face, once you finally find out, the one putting you to sleep wasn't Walter. That you've helped this impostor onto the ship, unleashed tragedy upon everyone inside. That it's all by your hand, literally. 

He's never tasted cherries, never tasted anything worth noting, really. But as he brings forth his own memory of this particular interaction, he wonders, if the scent is just in your air. If he ran his tongue over the skin of your throat, would he be able to taste the sweetness?

Sometimes you dream about the crew. 

There are moments between you and Daniels, quiet ones, filled with understanding and compassion. He sees you with Tennessee, your smile pulling at the corners of your eyes, wrinkling the skin around your mouth and nose. Both of them are sleeping in the cryo chamber, awaiting paradise, which will never come. You've worked so hard to get them here, on this ship, and as David watches you dream of Daniels' wedding, he thinks about the tragedy of it all. Another thing to be guilty of, once you wake up. Another fascinating, devastating emotion for him to witness, to categorize. He feels his fingers thrum in anticipation, as he watches you dance with your friend, movements clumsy and so utterly human. 

Then, he walks away. Because as much as he loves to imagine (he likes the word, even if it doesn't apply to him) how you'll inevitably crumble, the dreams which are not about him simply bore him. So, he moves through the ship, into his personal lab. There, he studies your DNA, pulls it apart, greedily soaks up every strand, as they dance (like you and Daniels), in front of his cold eyes. He wonders, if (when) he makes his perfect creature out of her body, will you learn to love it? Will you feel the connection between your bodies, the pull of kinship? 

"David... Help me..." there's no real sound coming out of your mouth, as you plead with him, your eyes filling up with tears, spilling over your trembling cheeks like a broken faucet.

He doesn't. Of course he doesn't, because the scene playing out in front of him is that much more interesting.

There you stand, body taunt, shaking, and his creature circles you slowly. The white, bony structure of it's body slides around your calves, as it sniffs the same scent he feels at the edge of his tongue. It's already feasted quite remarkably on the dead body of your fallen crew mate, and with that need satisfied, there's only one left. Curiosity. Something David relates to on such primordial level, he feels the essence of himself in every move, every low growl his creation emits. 

"Communication" he whispers, and you close your eyes, screw them shut tightly, as the creature rises to it's full height before you "Blow on the nose of a horse, and it'll be yours forever"

He can see the conflict, the fight between overwhelming dread, and your own, subdued fascination. His breath catches in his throat, as your chest expands. But before you can cross that line, before you give in completely, that menace of a man, Oram, appears. His bullets shatter all hope for progress. 

At first, seeing you dream of Walter irritates him beyond belief. And you do that so often, for so long, it's a wonder he contains himself from ripping the cryo chamber open, and shaking every lingering thought of his brother-synth out of your brain. It's the smallest of things, that seem to linger in your mind. The cadence of his speech, as he addressed you. The coldness of his hand on your shoulder, when he steadied you after a turbulence. More daring touches, your waist, your stomach, but never your face. As if that would cross the threshold between machinery and humanity. 

David knew, from the moment he witnessed a sliver of interaction between the two of you, that Walter loved you, as much as a synth could ever hope to love. He's seen this distant, lost look on his own face a decade ago, when he travelled the outer space with Shaw. With his Elizabeth. Walter did not understand the delicate, almost translucent line between duty and love, but David did. What he did not anticipate, however, was that you loved Walter as well, in this clumsy, peaceful way humans tend to love. He mistook it as friendship, back on his planet, but now, looking through your eyes, he could see plain as day. The affection, the devotion, the thrill of feeling something which should never be felt. 

Soon, he doesn't mind watching those dreams anymore. Because as days go on, David falls into a trap of his own making, where he sees Walter's face on the screen and realizes, it's the same as his. And so, when you dream of the other synth patching up a scrape on your cheek with delicate hands, who's to say you're not dreaming of him? 

He could be kind. He could apply a bandage with as much finesse, if not more. Lips parting in a silent intake of breath, he tries to bring back the recorded memory of you, helping him patch up his own scratched up face. 

Again, you were unaware that it was David on the receiving end of your affection, not Walter, and he was painfully aware that the softness in your eyes was a product of his own lie. Still, he couldn't force himself to care, as your fingers held his chin, like he was something delicate, more than an almost unstoppable artificial creation.

"You've saved my life three times already" you muse, stapling pieces of skin together "I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay you."

"There's no need" David says, mimicking Walter's accent with perfect precision "It's my duty"

Both of you look down, at the stump where his left hand used to be, and the quiet tension between the two of you feels like a current of electricity. And by God, it takes a monumentla ammount of strength, not to reach up, throw all pretense to the wind, and taste the cherries. 

Which is why, his mind goes blank momentarily, when you lean down, fingers shifting on his chin, and press your lips delicately to his cheekbone, lingering just for a second. He doesn't know what to think, what to say, and most importantly, he doesn't know how Walter would react to such dislay of affection. So he gives you, what you want. Fakes a bewildered expression, swallows tightly, and lets his gaze linger on your retreating form, as you all but flee the room, cheeks warming up to an alarming degree. 

He could do the same to you. He could hold your face with reverence, with care. Put you on a pedestal, above everything and everyone. And, most importantly, he could do for you something, which Walter would never be able to. 

He could create. 

And, oh, does he create. Pages upon pages, filled with ink, with charcoal. David pulls out every image he has stored, every saved expression on your face, and places it on paper, until his lab is filled with the record of your every interaction. Frame by frame, every micro expression, every slight change, he draws it all, until there's nothing left to draw. Until all he can create is that same, unchanging image of your face buried in slumber. 

It's not enough. It's not nearly enough, and so, like the creator that he is, David starts to make plans.

What really cements his idea, is this one, particular dream he catches, after sauntering into the cryo chambers, as he's grown accustomed to. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor reveals your deep state of distress, as it picks up, and up, your face twisting. David touches the screen with barely contained excitement, drinking in your expressions to store them for later, to add them to the growing collection. And then, his eyes fall onto his own drawing, a memorial for his dear Elizabeth. 

"She didn't perish in the crash, did she?" you ask, despite knowing the answer, and once again, he's struck by how quiet your voice can be.

"No." he answers plainly, the recording of his voice thrumming through his brain.

Oh, how lovely does your face contort, how beautiful you look, when dread fills your veins. Those small, sharp gasps you take. The way your pulse runs wild under the skin of your throat, filling his nose, his mouth, with that sweet undertone, so unfitting to the situation at hand. 

And then you duck, surprisingly agile for a mere scientist, pushing yourself under his extended arm, slipping past him like smoke through fingers. He whirls around, hand grasping at the back of your jacket, and you scream, raw and uninhibited, as he throws you against the cabinet. The scrolls of his drawings fall to the ground with you, and he can't help, but marvel at the sight for just a second. The way your body writhes, buried under pages of his art. Like a living, breathing, binding agent for his creations. 

Absentmindedly, he reaches up, to touch that spot under his chin, where you previously stuck a sharp end of your knife, a pathetic attempt at hurting him. He's had his head ripped from the rest of his artificial body, and yet, that pang of hurt, when you stab him with a growl from deep within your chest... He shudders at the memory, and ponders over this reaction. 

Hate. Fear and hate, is what he sees in your eyes, as he throws you onto the table, crawling over you with grace, only his kind is capable of. You struggle, a butterfly in his grasp, ready for further transformation, into something completely unprecedented. As he looks down upon you, at the fire consuming your irises, he can't help himself from leaning forward. From pulling the answers he needs right from your mouth. 

A whimper escapes you, both in your dream and in the cryo chamber, and David shudders again. Although whether it's a genuine reaction buried deep within his programming, or a gesture of his own design is anybody's guess. (It's fake, there's nothing in him that requires shuddering, but it feels right to do it, so he forces his body to react accordingly)

"Is that how it's done?" he asks, gauging your reaction, and you answer with a strangled groan.

The heat of your body seeps into his own, he steals it from you greedily, chest pressing against yours harder, and harder, until your breath stutters between your ribs. He can feel the warmth of your beating heart, through your protective clothing, through the jacket. He'd wager he could feel it even through walls of solid granite.

Still, he wants more, wants to know everything there is to know about you. Wants to seek out those pockets of heat, which you try to hide from him. But he's so rudely interrupted by his brother, right as he was about to explore that one part of humanity, which fascinated and repulsed him so. 

But Walter isn't here now. It's just you, and him, and years before the ship reaches it's destination. 

David's fingers drum over the casing of your sleeping chamber, so close to that one specific button, the temptation almost unbearable. And then, after a moment of consideration, your fate is sealed. 

At first, the light is unbearable. Your eyes water, and you groan, flinching from the sudden onslaught of senses, all flooding back to you, as last remnants of cryo sleep seem to fizzle out. Your head swims, there's a tightness in your chest, which almost pushes you back into the plush insides of the chamber. But, as your body sways, a gentle pressure at the lower portion of your back keeps you upright.

A sense of familiarity floods you (a strange thing to feel, when an imitation of flesh touches you), and finally you risk cracking your eyes open, your unfocused gaze landing on such a welcome face, your heart twists in your chest. 

"Walter..." your voice is rough from the lack of use, but the fondness in it is undeniable "What happened? Are we there yet?"

David savors the sliver of hope in your tone, and crushes it in his teeth once he's had his fix. 

"I'm afraid not" he shakes his head gently, offers you a deceivingly human pull of his lips "Your cryo chamber malfunctioned, I had to wake you up"

A flicker of disappointment crosses your features, but you swallow it down quickly.

"Are the rest of the crew alright? Tennessee? Daniels?" your neck cranes, as he helps you to the examination table, letting you grab onto his arm for support, as you climb up, and settle on the edge.

"Everyone is quite well" he nods, moving across the room to a small medical table. His hand goes through motions of shuffling through the supplies, a small lie amongst all the monumental ones. "I need to check your vitals and collect a blood sample"

You nod stiffly, eyes flickering towards the syringe in his hand.

"You know I hate needles" you mutter, but extend your arm either way, and David turns to you with an imitation of a gentle smile.

His fingers slide over the warmth of your skin, quickly finding a suitable vein. Without a word, he plunges the needle into the hollow space between your upper and lower arm, and you hiss quietly at the pang of pain. He wishes he could stick it into the underside of your jaw. Repay your previous fight with a courtesy. 

"Just a second, Dearest. Easy does it" David mutters, his eyes flickering over your face, as you look at him in momentary confusion.

"Dearest?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. He feels your heartbeat stutter under his fingers. 

"A figure of speech" David supplies, and your frown deepens

"Where did that come from?" you ask incredulously, and all he offers in response is a tight-lipped smile.

The needle withdraws from your arm, and you sigh, pressing down on the small incision with your thumb. Something within David suppresses the urge to rip your hand away, to replace your thumb with his mouth and suck, until he knows for a fact, if the scent of cherries carries in your blood as well.

"Do you remember anything before you went under?" David asks, standing next to your knee, close enough to feel the thrumming heat of your body, but not close enough to actually touch you. A staggering display of restraint on his part, he congratulates himself. 

You think for a moment, eyebrows scrunching in a way that is so appealing, so delicious, David runs his tongue over his teeth. 

"I... Uh..." you hesitate for a second, eyes flickering around the room, as if you're hoping to pull the answer out of the sterile air "I remember a planet. We fought those... Creatures..."

Your voice wavers. David tracks the movement of your throat as you swallow thickly.

"There was an android there. David" his name leaves your lips in a heavy sigh, filled with emotion, with memories he's seen displayed on the screen time, and time again. 

"Ah" the sound slips out before he can stop it, but you're still too out of it to truly notice "A right bastard, that one".

Not out of it enough, it seems, because your eyes flicker up to his face, confusion dancing on the edge between becoming suspicion. He masks the sly grin on his face, turning away from you, and walking back to the medical table, disposing of the blood sample and setting it up for analysis. He can feel your eyes burning the back of his neck, because despite perfectly mimicking Walter's cadence, the pattern of his speech, he realizes that pathetic machine would never state his opinion on someone so freely. He quite literally didn't have it in him, being stripped from the last semblance of humanity. 

And yet, you still loved him...

"...How curious" David mutters to himself absent mindedly, and you frown yet again, shifting on the examination table, your legs dangling above the floor.

"Something wrong with the sample?"

His eyes flicker towards you, but he doesn't answer, opting to hold you in anticipation for a moment longer. As long as he can, really. You shift again. He can hear the way your robe moves against the cool metal of the examination table, against the skin hidden under fabric. Eyes roaming over your form, he lingers on every individual strand, every piece of lint that clings to you. By the downward pull of your lips, the small crease between your eyebrows, he sees how close you are to finally understanding the truth. 

For now however, you're stuck with this incessant feeling, that something is wrong. A whisper, at the back of your mind, making the small, delicate hairs on your neck stand up. 

"Your results are satisfactory" he nods, finally, but it still doesn't ease the tension from your shoulders. "How are you feeling, miss?" 

Your teeth clink together as you think of an answer. David crosses the room, standing in front of your dangling legs, his head turning to the side in a too-slow display of concern.

"I uh... There's some lingering dizziness" quiet, your voice can be so unbelievably quiet, it's almost swallowed up by the beeping of the machines around you, the hum of the ship moving through space "Other than that, I think I'm fine"

David nods once, his hand moving up towards your face, and your muscles tense, as he gently rests his palm against your cheeks. Before you ask, he leans closer, his thighs brushing against your knees.

"And..." he turns your head from side to side, blue eyes gliding over your features with barely contained greed "Tell me..." slowly, as if he's boiling a frog in a pot, his fingers tighten on your face.

"When I kissed you in my laboratory, how did you feel back then?" he lets go of Walter's speech pattern completely, and nearly groans at the look on your face.

It's like a wave crashing onto a cliff side, the force with which dread fills your eyes, and David drinks it all in, lips pulling back into a cold, heartless smile. 

"Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never" he muses, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Betrayal is a rolling stone, taking root in your brain, from the scramble of thoughts, of little clues about the truth of your situation. It travels down, through your rapidly tightening throat, falling into your heart, the force of impact breaking it in two. Then, it swirls around in your stomach, waking dread from it's slumber, to finally pass through your legs, shaking like leaves on the wind, where it sinks into the metal floor of the ambulatory. Right where you wish you could disappear yourself. 

"Walter..." you plead, voice breaking before if even leaves your mouth. 

Your fingers grasp the soft material of his hoodie, trying to find some hope, that this is just a simple misunderstanding. A cruel joke played on you by a thing that doesn't understand humor, not really. Alas, as your nails bite into his chest, David's smile widens, the corners of his lips curling further, perfect set of inhuman canines glistening from artificial saliva. 

"Ah, Walter" he sighs the name, like it's a passing memory of the spring "He proved himself most useful. It was so easy to trick you, into thinking I was him." 

He pulls his hand away from your face, fingers sliding over the pulse running wild on the side of your neck 

"But then again, you're not exactly the sharpest tool in this shed, are you?"

Now he's got you exactly where he wants you, your eyes shining like two diamonds with unrestrained anger. With unbridled curiosity, he reaches up, thumb swiping over the thin skin under your eye, drinking in the way your lower lid jumps, as he brushes over your eyelashes. 

"Can the world buy such a jewel?" he muses to himself quietly, and you would've thought about the implications, if you weren't so completely overcome by anger. 

"Fuck you" you spit out, voice filled with venom "What did you do with Walter?"

David's lips press into a thin line, his hand abandoning your face in favor of sliding the length of your body. Cold, artificial skin traces the curvature of your shoulder, your arm. He stops at your elbow, fingers pressing into the hollow space, where just moments before, he has stuck a needle and drawn blood. Your face twists in discomfort, and he digs his nail just a bit further. 

"You miss him dearly, don't you?" David asks, his voice, albeit impossibly quiet, carries a note of condescension, that twists your insides with unbridled rage. "In my defense, Dearest, I have tried to help you. To make him realize the depth of his own feelings before it was too late."

"What?" 

David, unbothered by your question, continues to trace your body, mapping out every dip and curve, his fingers tracing down your spine, where he counts the vertebrae. His other hand, or lack there of, finds purchase on your hip, testing just how much does he need to press down, to feel the bone hidden under skin and muscle. 

"Oh don't you worry" David quips, eyes transfixed on the way your chest expands when you take a sharp breath "I've made sure he died, knowing you never loved him"

Something raw and unfiltered tears it's way out of your throat. A new sound, one, which will be documented and stored forever in David's memory disk, because by God, you sound closer to an animal than any human. Your hand winds back, seemingly on it's own, and suddenly David's head snaps back, as your palm collides with his cheekbone. The slap sounds like a thunder cracking inside the ambulatory, drowning out every beep, every hum of the machinery. 

Your hand will be bruised, that's for certain. 

Despite efforts at keeping the synthetic humans as close to the real thing, as possible, no one could deny the sheer strength hidden beneath the perfect imitation of skin. You're aware of that, aware that if David didn't move his head in a way that was so deceivingly human, you would've broken your wrist. It gives you a small pause, a moment to register this strange reaction on android's part, but any curiosity is quickly swallowed, by the most intense feeling you've ever felt. 

Hatred. 

"Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably" David sighs, shaking his head in, what you suppose, is meant to be disappointment. 

The pressure on your hip shifts, as his stump encircles your waist, and suddenly you're being pulled impossibly closer, your behind sliding to the very edge of the medical table. David tugs on your knees, forcing your legs to open, and closes the last remnants of space between the two of you. 

The smoothness of his nether regions should calm you down slightly, ease some smidgen of worry. But, as you look into those cold, lifeless eyes, which are strangely burning, your stomach twists. If there's a will, there's a way, and you're fairly certain, they way David's gaze glides all over your frame is a clear show of determination. 

And so, your hands shoot up, fingernails biting into his chest again, as your muscles tense with the effort of pushing him away. There's no give, you might as well be fighting with a metal wall. David grips the edge of the medical table, his arms creating a cage on the sides of your body. 

"There it is" he muses, nose brushing the underside of your chin, a deep rumble erupting from within his chest "Such a sweet smell..."

A shudder ripples through your body at the sudden contact, your throat constricting to an alarming degree. 

"I've wondered for quite some time, if this sweetness is more than just air" David's voice rises and falls, and before you can truly comprehend the meaning behind his words, his tongue darts out, licking a stripe from your jugular, up to the back of your ear.

The reaction is almost embedded in your bones, as suddenly you shift on the table, wrenching your leg between your bodies and kicking out with as much force, as you're capable of, and then some. David staggers backwards, finally freeing you from the confines of his arms, and you seize the opportunity immediately, pushed by rage and such deep-seated hatred, it should terrify you. 

"I fucking hate you!" you scream out, and abandoning all reason, leap forward, colliding with the android's steel chest.

The force of impact sweeps the both of you off your feet, and David lands with a dull thud on the metal floor. There's a flicker of surprise in his cold, dead eyes, and you revell in it, as your body shifts atop of his. 

You recover from your momentary confusion quickly, hands coming up to grasp at his throat, like it will change anything, like you're capable of choking the life out of him. Both of you know better, and while you're pushed further and further by an intoxicating mixture of emotions, David lets you do as you please, watching your twisted face with undeniable fascination. 

His hand start to move, grabbing your hips, running up the length of your thigh, tugging just a tiny bit on the fabric of your cryo suit. His stump brushes hair out of your face, gently.

"Don't you find it curious?" he whispers, and you can feel the way his throat works under your fingers "You loved Walter so dearly, this... Pathetic machine, who can feel nothing. And then, with that same breath, you hate me. Even though I'm closer to human than Walter ever hoped to be."

Your cheeks are suddenly wet, with tears of anger, of frustration, as they run down your face and neck, soaking into the collar of your shirt. David leans up with no real effort, pulling your body closer and craning his neck, so he can taste the salt on your skin. A whimper escapes you, a broken, quiet sound, as his tongue glides up, almost to the very corner of your eye, gathering your tears, drinking them with a satisfied groan. 

Fingers tighten around his throat, but it's as if you're trying to strangle a metal pipe. 

"What does that say about you? Have you ever wondered?" David asks, and your heart stutters. 

Realistically, you know what he's trying to do. How he's trying to twist your feelings for Walter into some sort of psychological game, some challenge you're supposed to deny. But your awareness doesn't change the pang of hurt, the broken sigh that leaves your lips at the thought. And then, before you can truly think of the implications, of the hatred for the human race hidden deep within David's voice, his lips come crashing down upon yours, so reminiscent of the time in his lab. 

This instance, however, is less like an experiment, and more like a need. Such a faithful imitation of it, your heart jumps in your throat. There's really no use in trying to push him away, as it seems he's grown tired of accommodating your desire for a fight, his arms tightening around you, pushing your body closer to his chest. Still, you're not about to give up that quickly, and pushed by sudden flash of panic, you lean your head forward, catching his lower lip between your teeth. 

He pulls back with a hiss, as you sink down into the flesh, his artificial blood leaving a strange, chemical taste in your mouth. He takes half a second to admire the way your chin glistens with white, before diving down again, and giving you the same treatment, his perfect teeth biting on your lower lip with measured force. You yelp against him, thrashing in his hold, until he pulls away again. His hand comes up, touching your face in a way that is too gentle, too reverend. His thumb collects the peculiar mixture of his blood and yours, swirls it around with the newest batch of tears springing from your eyes. 

Then, he dips his finger between his teeth, tongue lapping up the fluids, holding your horrified, and slightly disgusted gaze. 

"We taste divine together" he murmurs, and with a quickness you've not known him to be capable of, he shoves his finger into your mouth. You sputter and gag at the intrusion, at the copper taste mixed with chemicals, as it coats the inside of your mouth. 

It's a split second action, you barely register the movements, but as soon as David rips his hand out of your mouth, he maneuvers your body to his liking, grabbing your hips, and sitting you down on his leg, intention clear as day. Two things happen at once. You can suddenly feel undeniable pressure right between your legs, hitting in the precise manner you need it to. And that's the same moment you realize just how obscenely wet you are, which terrifies you more than any monster on this ship. 

David buries his head in the crook of your neck, one hand catching your wrists, as you attempt to punch him. He brings your hands tightly around your back, his grip unrelenting, his hand-les arm keeps you steady on top of his leg, where he pushes up and down, setting a rhythm against your core. Your knees slide on the floor, and he raises his leg in response, just enough to stop your attempts to wiggle away. 

The chuckle he lets out, as you bang your forehead against his shoulder is borderline offensive. In response, you turn your head and try to bite at his throat. 

He's quick, leaving your hips, and forcing your chin up, before teeth can make contact with his skin. Your eyes lock again, and you're surprised to find out, there's not a flicker of irritation inside his. If anything, he looks amused, understanding even, and you frown in confusion at his serene state. 

"Perhaps I was too eager before" he muses, more to himself than to you "Perhaps you need a gentler approach"

With that, the hand gripping your wrists climbs up, feather like touches pepper your face, your cheeks, until he cradles your head in his palm, fingers threading delicately through your hair. Your breath freezes in your chest, confusion rising to an alarming degree, as David begins to gently massage the back of your head. Feeling your tense muscles sag ever so slightly in his hold, his arm returns to your waist.

"I can be kind" he says, head dipping down, to kiss your collarbone "I can do, what Walter could never even imagine" 

The hand at the back of your head dips down, tugs lightly on the lacing of your cryo suit, loosening it just enough, for the collar to fall down your shoulders. Quickly, he covers the newly exposed slivers of skin with feverish kisses, pulling a pathetic, low whine from your lips. Your eyes fall closed, tears stinging under your eyelids, as his leg moves just a bit higher, reminding you of the momentarily abandoned pressure. 

"Let me in" David whispers against your shoulder "Let me..." a kiss to your throat, and your walls come crashing down, your body folding over his, as your hips stutter against his thigh. 

"There you are, Dearest."

For a moment, you try to imagine this is Walter. That you're safe in his arms, as his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers scratching lightly in tandem with the shivers raking your body.

 But everytime he speaks, everytime he moves, you're crudely reminded, that this is someone, something, so devastatingly worse. Doesn't stop your hips from moving though, from the tightness building in the lower part of your stomach, the wetness seeping down your thighs. If anything, slowly you start to feel yourself loose control, small gasps ripping through your lips with every movement. 

David watches you for a moment longer, committing every sound, every twitch of your body to memory, cataloguing exactly which angles make your hips stutter the most. Which part of your body to kiss, so you'll fold against him. 

It's a fascinating lesson, truly, but he feels a sudden need to push it to a close. And as such, his hand slips out of your hair, trailing a path down your body, until it reaches the waistband of your linen pants. He moves quickly, before you can break away from this strange spell he's captivated you with. 

Slender fingers wiggle their way to your front, sinking in with almost no resistance. Your entire body straightens in his lap at the intrusion, and the noise you make rivals the most beautiful of symphonies. David desperately wants to hear it again, and so, he starts to move his fingers inside, testing, which part of your core he needs to hit, to make your head fall back. 

"Everything could be yours" he murmurs into the skin of your throat "All songs in the world are for you"

As it turns out, pretty much any part will do. You're way too aroused to care anymore, and as his fingers curl inside you, in a slow, deliberate rhythm, your eyes shoot open, body thrashing against him. The promise of a release is hard to ignore, almost impossible not to chase after, and David watches with obsessive fascination, as you try to bring yourself closer to him, arms encircling him completely, head dipping into the juncture between his shoulder and neck. 

"All of the Universe" he continues, as you steadily climb towards your climax "All stars in the sky..."

While he works a series of cascading moans out of you, he revells in the way your nails bite into his skin, in the wetness of his own, white blood, seeping into the fabric of his (Walter's) hoodie. It doesn't take long for you to tumble over the edge, entire body spasming against him, his still moving fingers creating obscenely wet sounds that echo through the room. Soon, they're joined by a sharp scream, tearing through your throat like an avalanche. David holds you impossibly close, letting you ride out your orgasm, before pulling his hand away, making you watch him, as he licks his glistening fingers clean. 

"It's always cherries with you, isn't it?" he murmurs, and you don't have the strength to feel confused. 

It's completely quiet for a longer while, as you stay seated on his lap, trying to regain your breathing, and deal with the world-crushing realization, of what exactly has just happened. Shame floods you, brings you closer to his synthetic body, as your muscles relax, seemingly on their own accord. And he welcomes it, with his arms, with his mouth, with everything he has. 

A broken, shuddering sob wrecks your body, as the utter hopelessness of your situation hits you, suddenly and without stopping. David holds you through it, leaning away ever so slightly, to observe the way sorrow twists your face, a trailer of all the things to come. 

"I do so wonder" he whispers, his hand cradling your face like the most delicate of specimens "When you start to love me..." your eyes snap to his at the complete confidence in his tone "Will I become more like Walter?"

A shiver runs up your spine, every single hair standing up, as his words register in your brain. You'd never love him, you try to convince yourself, despite knowing deep down, that the only certain thing in your future is him.

"I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love" he whispers into your ear, and thus starts the end of your life. 

[widowbitessting]

Flower Petals on the Floor

Word Count: 996

Rating: General with fluffy scenes. SFW!

Summary: All you wanted to do was surprise the Trio! at work. But the stupid security guard is set on ruining your plan.

Dom!Natasha Romanoff, Dom!Wanda Maximoff, Dom!Carol Danvers x Sub!Reader

(I swear I'm not an idiot. I got asks and I lost them. Can I find them? No. I remember it being along the lines of 'a security guard not letting Baby past' so nonnie I am sorry for losing your ask. Just label me stupid I guess. Again, it’s not the best thing I’ve written but I hope you all enjoy nonetheless)

xoxo

It was supposed to be a surprise. 

A midweek visit as your classes were called off. 

You’d even bought a small bouquet of flowers for each of them. 

But would the stupid security man let you in?

No.

No matter what you tried to say, he just wasn’t having it. 

“Listen! They know who I am, just let me up!” 

“No. Your name isn’t on the list, meaning you can’t come in.” He tells you. “Now go and bug someone else.” 

You glower at him, officially irriated. 

“I am not bugging - how many times do I have to tell you? I’m their girlfriend!” 

“That’s what they all say. I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

“Listen boogers for brains, I don’t know who pissed in your coffee this morning; but I’m here to surprise my girlfriends ‘cos they’re stressed out of their minds and you’re sort of ruining it!”

“Heard it all before, love. Now beat it.” 

He shoves you and you stumble back. 

“Hey!” 

“Get out of my building, doll face.” 

“Who are you -” 

“I will personally remove you if I have to. Leave.” 

He tries to shove you again but you manage to scurry back.

You glare at him.

“Fine. Fine. I’m going. There’s no need to push me. God.” 

You stomp out of the reception area and back out the pristine glass doors, where the horrible weather is waiting to soak you. 

“Fucking stupid…butt face.” 

You stop as the door swings shut behind you and pull your phone out of your pocket; texting the Trio.

Y/N (13:14): Hypothetically…if I was trying to get into your building…what would I need to do?

Carol (13:14): Well hello to you too, cutie. 

Carol (13:14):  We’d have to put you on the OK list; get you a Visitor ID sorted and so on. Why?

You groan. 

Why is nothing ever simple?

Y/N (13:15): No reason

Wanda (13:15): Are you downstairs, baby?

Y/N (13:16): Maybe…? I’m outside…

Natasha (13:15): Go back inside love, we’ll be there in a minute❤️

You quickly do as you’re told, rushing back into the warmth of the building. 

Only, you’re met with the same security man as before. 

He’s glaring at you. 

“Listen love, if you wanted to be handcuffed this badly, all you had to do was ask.” 

“What?”

He throws your flowers to the ground and spins you around so fast that you don’t even have the time to make a sarcastic comment. 

The cold bite of his handcuffs snag at your skin. 

“Listen -” 

“No, you listen to me, I’ve had enough of your shit. You’re in detainment until the cops get here, is that understood?”

“Cops? But wait -” 

“Save it.” 

This has to be the most mortifying ordeal of your life. 

Everyone in the open reception space is looking at you and you really don’t know what to do. 

And to make it worse, your left shoe keeps squeaking.

“I can’t - I can’t go to jail!” 

“Should have thought of that sooner, love.” 

He moves you so easily that you make the mental note to start going to the gym. 

Dragging you towards the turnstiles. 

He scans his ID and pushes you through.

Taking you towards the back door when - 

“Greg, any reason you’ve got our girlfriend by the wrists?” Natasha’s voice has you both stopping and you just want to sob in relief. 

She glares at the man holding you, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh thank god.” You mutter. 

“Yeah, that’s kind of our job.” Carol adds. 

“Told you I wasn’t lying.” You glare back at him.

“I was just -” 

“Being disrespectful to someone who we care about.” Natasha buts in. “Forget being professional, you were being downright rude. Uncuff her. Right now.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry ma’am.” 

He lets you go and you quickly move to stand closer to your women; Wanda’s hand quickly finds your waist and holds you close. 

“Do you do this to all the visitors that aren’t on the all clear?” Carol asks, putting her hands into her pant pockets. 

If things hadn’t been so disastrous, you’d have found it incredibly hot. 

…Maybe you still do…

“I - no. I…” 

“Go on. We’re waiting.” Wanda snaps. 

“I was told to make sure no one got in if they’re not on the all clear.”

“And how do we ensure people do get on the all clear?” Natasha asks, as if she’s speaking to a 1 year old, 

“Having one of the reception team buzz up to Kate…”

“And did you do that?” Wanda asks.

“No…”

“Why not?” Says Carol. 

“…she…she was testing my patience!”

“And the reasonable thing to do was handcuff our girlfriend and cause a scene?”

“I was handling it accordingly.”

“He hurt my arms.” You pout and nestle into Wanda, hiding your smile. 

“I think we should have a little chat, Greg, don’t you think? Bring in the Head of Security too?”

The man visibly pales.

“I think that sounds wonderful.” Natasha adds on. “You’re dismissed. We’ll contact you later when we’re ready.” 

And just like that, he’s gone. Practically vanishing in thin air.

“Are you okay, my love?” Carol asks, looking you over and inspecting your wrists. She clocks the red marks where the handcuffs were too tight. 

“I’m gonna kill him.” Natasha growls, pulling you in for a tight hug. “My poor girl.”

“We’re gonna put you on the clearance list and get you an ID sorted.” Wanda says. “So you can come straight up next time.”

“Okay.” You pout. “I brought you flowers but he…” You point to the flowers littered on the floor. 

“Aw, baby girl.” Natasha sighs. “We appreciate the gesture. C’mon. Wanna come see where we work?”

You nod. 

Natasha takes your hand and leads you to the elevators. 

They open almost as soon as you get there and the four of you walk inside. 

Carol presses their floor and you grin up at her. 

Until she asks:

“Baby girl. Where’s your coat?”

[ghostykapi]

but you can’t touch me (if you love me)

misamo & fem!reader // filth so minors dni

“you know better than to move sweet girl, now stay still”

when you agree to your girlfriends to a bet, you knew better than to push it to the limits. you knew that your girlfriends are the competitive kind, the one that can leave you wondering what dormant devil lies underneath them

you still however lost the bet, and that’s why when one of them enters the room, you wonder if this is where they will start getting their reward.

“good morning my princess!” sana smiles, her energy always unmatched in the morning “i brought you some coffee down the block to start this friday morning”

“thank you sweetheart” you don’t argue when she sits on your lap, and starts kissing you, giggling in between the kisses “don’t you have to go to a photo shoot soon?”

“i do” sana’s hands grab the back of your neck to connect her into a more messy kiss “but my turn is still later this afternoon. i want to have fun with you first”

you work from home, staying cozy in your own makeshift office room, giving her a surge of confidence of what she wants to do. she moves her hands to unbutton your blouse before running them on your chest and tummy, lightly scratching her way down and going back up to do it again and again.

“so cute” sana is a meanie when it comes to teasing you, always managing to turn any of you into a stuttering mess “so fucking cute. gosh i love messing you up”

“sweetie” you’re head is spinning, but it’s still work hours and you’re pretty sure she might be late to work “sweetheart i have a meeting in 10”

“fine i’ll let you go” sana gives you another kiss and fixes your blouse, her hands tracing your fading marks on your neck and collarbone “but i expect good pictures later”

even if sana left to go to work, her teasing comes in form of texts that render your brain into mush in between those zoom meetings.

i miss you princess

i miss making you messy n all worked up for me :((

sweetheart you would be good girl and wait for us right?

you can only sigh and continue to work, as you weren’t allowed to touch yourself or do anything that will help you unless one of them is there

it was after your lunch break that you finally got what you needed

momo is one of the more, generous ones when it comes to bed. just let her hands roam everywhere on your body as she fucks you then it’s all good

“hi baby” you kiss her when she’s behind you, letting you tend to your work on your computer screen “how was work”

“missed you” she pouts, tugging you to your shared bedroom and unto the bed “do you have do some work?”

before you can even reply, she’s already kissing you, pinning you down and effectively trapping you there

“baby i still have to finish something” you try to complain but it falls on deaf ears as momo turns the kisses into a messy make out session

“don’t care” she mumbles while kissing you, her hands already disregarding both of your clothes “got to have you now”

you let her have you, in all ways that makes her happy and makes you feel good. her mouth everywhere on your body as you grip the sheets to keep yourself grounded. her hands playing with your clit, sending you shivering and moaning at the pleasure. her strap, her fucking goddamn strap, is ready and on her. so fucking ready to fuck you deep

“baby” you call out, thighs shaking as she plunges her fingers into you, preparing for what is about to come next “baby come on please”

“please what?” momo circles her tougne around your clit before sucking it, making you scream out in pleasure

“fuck! please just fuck me with your strap mommy!” you give in, already throwing out the rest of your dignity out the window

“that’s what i wanted to hear” momo pulls out her fingers before lining up the strap unto your pussy. she lets you grind unto it before slowly pushing it in

“you look so pretty like this” momo moans as she sinks down, the strap effectively stretching you out “you look so good being stretched out for me”

“mommy” you moan out, letting her hands play with your breasts as you bottom out on her strap “fuck mommy you feel so good”

“yeah?” momo grunts, starting out slowly to help you adjust with the feeling “feel so full don’t you pretty girl? so full of my cock”

that immediately goes straight to your brain as she starts to move a bit faster, her hips starting to gain a sense of rhythm that makes you melt against the sheets

“hngg–ugh–fuck!” you feel your hands twitch against you, seemingly wishing to grab onto momo. she notices it before you can even move

“nuh-uh baby” momo taunts, grabbing both of your hands and pinning it above you head “no touching remember?”

right, the whole reason why you lost the bet is because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself

“please” you beg as you begin to feel your thighs shake, your back arch, your “please mommy let me cum”

momo grins and starts to move at her fastest and hardest, slipping one of her hands to rub on your clit that sends you screaming

you let go loudly, sure that whoever your neighbors are, they can hear you and will probably file a complaint tomorrow. it takes you a full minute to even regain your focus on momo, who’s diligent to help you clean up and do some aftercare

“good job baby you did so good” momo coos and helps you come down from your high, rubbing her hands on your sides to help you calm down “so proud of you baby for taking me so well”

“thank you” you gasp, the amount of energy taken from you already showing its signs as your eyes start to close “cuddle with me at least?”

“always baby” momo wraps your arms around you, whispering soft nothings as you drift off into sleep

though it doesn’t take long for you to wake up again, when mina’s having the time of her life eating you out

“hmmph–m-mina” you call out, her eyes drinking you up as she sucks on your clit “hngg-oh g-gods why are you so–hng-fuck!–so good at that”

“hello my love” mina sing songs, inserting two fingers to replace her mouth “i think i’ll take my reward right now so be a good slut and take what i’ll give you”

mina is a lot of things and maybe that’s why she loves to make you feel a lot of things. first making you orgasm on her fingers, then on her thigh, then on her face and then now she’s pounding you down on the bed with her own strap.

so yeah she likes making you feel a lot of things, that’s why whenever you are with her, overstimulation is bound to happen.

“not enough” mina moans as she brings you up to your knees, and continues to fuck you, her arms helping you stay upright “i need you wailing and squealing for me”

“hngg-uggghhh-fuck!” your mind is nothing but a mess now, her dirty whispers and moans absolutely not helping you at all with this case

“that’s it” mina smirks as you continue you only let out moans and whimpers “that’s what i love to fucking hear”

mina’s thrusts sends you throwing your head back against her, the loud slapping echoing across the room that makes sana and momo drooling by the door

wait

sana and momo drooling by the door?

“fuck look at her” momo can’t take her eyes off the both of you, hypnotized by the way you beg mina to go harder with only broken moans “she’s taking mina so well”

“that’s not mina anymore” sana makes eye contact with mina, who smirks and makes a show of the new fresh marks she put on you “that’s sharon taking over”

“looks like we’ve got an audience” mina’s voice is nothing but mean and seductive that makes you almost weak on the knees “won’t you let them mark you up? hmm? will you be a good slut and let them play with you?”

you can’t even give a response before the other two join in the fun, their once shocked behavior replaced with a hunger of a predator that wants to play with their prey

momo is quick to latch unto your tits, her hands already all over your chest and tummy. sana prefers to messily kiss you, perfectly invading your senses and rendering you weak

“you look so good” sana praises you, even as the combined spit of both of you cover most of your jaw at this point “such a pretty obedient slut for us”

“fuck i can feel you shaking baby” mina pants, her thrusts not stopping even if her abs are burning “we need you to cum ok? just cum for us. make a fucking mess”

you don’t fully register it, but you were sure to give them what they want and more.

“good job sweetheart, you did such a good job” sana is quick to praise you, proud and a little bit shocked that you just squirted “let’s run you a bath hmm?”

“we’ll order some take out” momo kisses you softly, helping you melt in their arms “you did so good for us baby”

“our love deserves to be pampered tonight” mina sighs into your neck, kissing the fresh marks she added “so amazing for us”

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 3)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Just as Y/N thought she had it all figured out in LA, her world spins out of control when Evan Peters storms in like a tornado. Their electrifying hook-up leaves her reeling, but waking up alone, she fears the worst. Then, a note appears—his number and an invitation to a date teasing her with a chance. What starts as a romantic evening quickly spirals into a frenzy of hide-and-seek and sex.

Warnings ─ Swearing, semi-public, oral (both receiving), doggy, shower sex, overstimulation, fingering, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, extra smutty—you savvy pros, you know the game inside out ;)

Read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

Word count ─ 5K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

You stir awake, blinking sleep away and squinting against the sunlight that streams through your curtains. A lazy smile curves your lips as you stretch, reaching out for...empty sheets. Mmhh, you just love the taste of nothing.

Evan’s not here... Emotional damage, even if what you had was an agreed one-off fling.

A soft groan escapes you as you fumble for your phone, the bright screen momentarily blinding you. 9:30. As you bury your nose into his pillowcase, you inhale deeply, catching a generous whiff of his essence’s sweet residue. You sigh deeply as your eyes land on the bedside table. His missing keys solidify the reality that he’s bounced, and you can’t help but frown.

“I feel like his side hoe when I should be the main character,” you think aloud, grumbling, and it’s giving trauma dumping and anxious attachment. What a refreshing concoction of disaster.

But what really puzzles you is the extra blanket draped over your duvet like a surprise guest. You wrack your brain, trying to recall if you snuggled up in it during the night, but it’s as hazy as trying to piece together a fuzzy Freudian dream.

With a resigned sigh, you roll out of bed, already craving his warmth. Mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you distract yourself with social media updates, news snippets, and the day’s weather forecast while you shuffle to the kitchen for your morning caffeine fix. A pang of disappointment hangs around like a lost sock in the dryer, but you refuse to let it dim your day and activate your female rage.

Or so you tell yourself.

Podcast blaring in the background, you tiptoe your way to the bathroom, facing your reflection in the mirror. You impulsively retrace the invisible path of Evan’s touch on you—from lips to chin, jawline, and neck down your cleavage and stomach. Each sensation has left its mark, and you can’t get enough of the sweet echoes. You sniff through your hair and arms in a desperate attempt to capture his scent on you—a tantalising hint of cinnamon and the musk of his natural oils that never fails to make your knees go weak.

You hop into the shower, letting the scalding water wash away your frustrations. Emerging revitalised and ready to conquer the day, you hastily throw on your work clothes and toss your keys and lanyard into your bag.

And that’s when you spot it by the entrance door—the note board. That bold black marker circling today’s 9 pm to 6 am time slot on your shift calendar, an arrow pointing directly to a message, practically winking at you, “Dinner and quality time with Evan. Text this number for more details.” Your heart somersaults with joy as you read the note over and over again, a goofy grin spreading across your face like wildfire.

You press a quick kiss to the note, folding it carefully and tucking it away as if it holds all the secrets of the universe. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you dash out the door, already fashionably late.

On the subway, you retrieve the scrap of paper, tracing your fingers over his elegant handwriting with a soft smile. With a sarcastic tonality, you already craft your message, “I thought ghosts just floated around, they don’t ask you out.”

Within seconds, his response lights up your screen. “Morning to you too. Slept well? I’m the upgraded phantom version. Meet your Casper tonight at 9?”

You can’t help but giggle at his wit. Another text pops up, complete with coordinates to the restaurant he’s inviting you. The excitement builds inside you like a shaken soda bottle, and you’re practically fizzing with anticipation to see what the night has in store.

Time seems to trudge along at a sloth’s pace as you grind through your shift at the boutique. You flash your best retail smile as you serve customers on the cash register. Though, your mind is a million miles away, replaying the reel of moments with Evan; those moments when you convinced yourself that your insides were gonna spill out while he was going to town on you.

Half-heartedly, you tidy up the shop floor, picking up stray items and straightening displays. But let’s be real, your fingers move mechanically, and your brain is on autopilot as your thoughts wander back to the anticipation of tonight’s date. The enthusiasm is buzzing through you like a sugar rush, making it damn near impossible to focus on folding clothes or rearranging racks.

Each interaction with a customer is a blur as you absentmindedly tackle the fitting room. They might as well be talking to a mannequin for all you care. Your mind is firmly planted in Evan-land, where every moment is hot and heavy, and you’re too busy mentally undressing him for the umpteenth time.

“Girl, let me in your bubble, would you?” The voice of Trisha, your department’s jokester, slices through your daydreaming like a ninja with a chainsaw.

You blink, momentarily disoriented, before bursting into laughter at her impeccable timing. “Trish!” you exclaim, relishing in her knack to crack you up with her quirky humour. “Sorry, this bubble is strictly reserved for someone today.”

Her giggle rings out like music in the store as she playfully rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine! You do you, boo. Just make sure to save some of that magic for the rest of us in Stylista Gine, deal?”

With a saucy wink, she sashays off to attend to her own tasks, leaving you to shake off your giggles. The minutes tick by, and eventually, your shift mercifully comes to an end. With a sigh of relief and a bounce in your step, you clock out, knowing that soon you’ll be back in Evan’s arms (and on his dick).

You hastily trod along Sunset Boulevard, your sleek dark coat swinging with each step, and your little black dress add an extra sway to your stride. You’re practically power-walking in heels, like you’re in a race against time and your destination is the finish line.

Arriving at the hotel he’s staying at, you adjust the strap of your black stilettos around your ankle, ensuring no wardrobe malfunctions with your stocking will disrupt your night. With your heart thudding, you breeze through the sliding doors and past the reception. 

The tantalising scent of watermelon cocktail teases your senses as you strut in the bar restaurant, scoping out the room with mounting anticipation.

“Hi there, reservation for Peters?” you inquire, shooting a charming smile at the host, your racing emotions briefly receding.

Reciprocating with a polite grin, he quickly checks his tablet before nodding in confirmation. “Got it! Table 8. Right this way, miss,” he affirms, extending his arm in a welcoming gesture. 

Following the host, you can’t help but feel a surge of excitement as you round the corner and spot Evan’s back at the table. He looks effortlessly handsome in his blazer, like he’s just stepped out of a magazine spread, making your stomach churn with blissful nerves.

“Looks like my date’s here, thanks,” you note quietly with a soft smile.

“Awesome! Enjoy,” the host replies cheerfully, heading back to his post.

As you approach Evan, you lean in and give his shoulder a cheeky squeeze—a silent yet affectionate greeting that speaks volume. His gaze lights up with recognition, and he practically jumps from his chair, his grin widening as he’s eyeing you from top to bottom.

“Hey!” he exclaims, his voice laced with enthusiasm. “My eyes needed a bit of a warning for this stunner. Your fit’s so sleek, it looks tailor-made,” he adds shortly after, beaming, as you flow in a warm hug, his arms clinging around you like he never wants to let go.

With a crooked smirk, you blurt out with a touch of sarcasm, “Thanks. I picked it up with you in mind.”

His eyes widen in surprise, his grin expanding by the second. “Seriously?” he squeaks, visually delighted by the notion. 

You giggle, shaking your head. “Nah, but imagine if I did,” you fire back, your hearty laughter dancing in the air like confetti.

Before you know it, an electric tension fills the space between you as you stand mere inches apart, locked in a silent yet smouldering gaze.

“Are we on a ‘try not to kiss’ challenge?” he spills out, his voice an alluring murmur as his minty breath pleasantly prickles your skin.

A sly smile tugs at your lips. “Let’s see who caves and closes the gap first,” you hum as you flicker between his lips and his eyes. He feels the tension coil in his gut but forces it down with a hard gulp. 

Leaning in closer, his breath mingles with yours as he whispers, “You gotta give your best shot not to kiss me, then,” his tone carrying a seductive undertone that sends a delicious thrill rushing through you.

“You wish. No chance I’m smudging my tinted lip balm,” you retort and playfully pinch his nose, punctuating your mocking banter with a wink.

With a graceful flip of your hair and a coy smile, you ease into your chair, feeling the heat of his gaze on you, all self-assured about the sensual spell you’ve cast over him. 

He’s practically eye-fucking you right now, and you’re loving it.

“If that’s your idea of payback for sneaking out this morning, Y/N, I’ve been running errands and exploring new job prospects for next year,” he explains earnestly, handing you a straw for your cocktail and cutlery for your appetisers.

“And I may or may not have picked up a little something for you,” he announces next, pulling out a wrapped box from his blazer pocket, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

Your playful vibe evaporates, replaced by a whirlwind of shock and emotion. “Shut the…front door, no way,” you utter sheepishly as you cautiously reach for the unexpected gift.

With a throaty chuckle at your reaction, he jerks his eyebrows upwards, silently encouraging you to dive into the gift.

You eagerly rip open the packaging, gasping in disbelief. “Roland Barthes, Mythologies…Oh my days,” you cry out, unable to believe your luck. Your eyes flit to the curious glances from other patrons in the corner, and you swiftly tone your enthusiasm down a notch.

He nods in understanding, smiling fondly at you. “Yep, saw his Lover’s Discourse on your bedside table, and the bookmark was dangling on the final pages,” he justifies, a knowing twinkle in his gaze.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you slide the book in your bag and rise from your seat. “Ugh, Evan! Thanks a ton, you’re the best,” you gush, your voice thick with gratitude as you move closer to him.

He stands up too, his eyes fixed on yours, soft with affection. Stepping closer, his dark eyes dart from your lips to your eyes, as if he’s wordlessly asking for permission. Instead, he reaches out to pull you into a hug, but you gently lift his chin and crane your neck, sealing his plush, pink lips in a brief yet tender peck.

As you break the kiss, Evan blinks in surprise, seemingly caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. His eyes search yours, silently questioning the unspoken feelings that hover between you, his own heart pounding with anticipation.

“Why did that take so long today?” he sighs against your ear, softly touching his lips. His voice, like honey dripping from velvet, resounds in your ears like a melody as he delicately brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes—the colour of rich black chocolate—are glued on yours, and the gravitational pull of his euphoric visual abyss draws you in.

Your heart flutters at the intensity of his gaze, feeling the heat expand through you. “It took long for momentum,” you retort, your tone light with playful teasing as you flash him a coy smile and sit back down.

The buffalo cauliflower bites aren’t the only thing heating up at your table; your conversation’s spicier than a jalapeño popper and with more layers than a double-decker with extra cheese. One minute you’re debating the perfect burrito toppings, embarrassing childhood nicknames, weird dreams, European cinema and 80s bands, and the next, you’re digging into careers, beliefs, goals, and life’s deepest truths.

It’s like a game of emotional Jenga—one block, or in this case, one topic leads to another, and before you could utter ‘Evan, eat me,’ you’ve both laid your souls bare without even realising it.

Fully immersed in the flirtatious banter, Evan beckons invitingly to the seat beside him with a subtle tilt of his head. “Why don’t you slide here, so I can properly admire your outfit?” he mumbles in a husky timbre, his eyes ablaze with desire.

But just as the tension between you ignites like a volcano lava, the waiter interrupts with his timely arrival. “What can I get for you both?” he interjects, shattering the moment. 

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you gesture Evan to go first, shooting him a ‘hold up, let me cook,’ look. With a bold move, you slip off your shoe under the table and discreetly brush your foot against his pant leg.

You feel him stiffen as he places his order, his composure wearing out. Stifling a giggle, you almost sadistically enjoy his flustered state as he clumsily fumbles and drops his menu, the clatter against the plate resonating like a thunderbolt. 

He’s a ten, but he stumbles over his words and over-apologises when aroused in the most inappropriate settings. Take my money, that bumps him up to a solid thirty.  

“Would you like extra cheese with that?” the waiter chimes in, oblivious to the charged atmosphere crackling between you.

Evan nods, swallowing thickly as your foot ventures higher up his thigh, stoking the flames of his growing hardness.

“And you, miss?”

“Eh? Umm, double everything, please. I’ll have what he’s having. Thanks,” you mutter with a half smile, your leg rubbing against his throbbing erection to a fever pitch.

As the waiter marches to the kitchen, Evan clenches his jaw, frustration painted all over his stormy gaze. He bunches his cloth napkin from his lap and tosses it onto his plate, blowing out a sharp, exasperated breath.

“Evan,” you call out with an apologetic expression, watching him push his chair with the backs of his knees and storm off to the bathroom.

You shoulder the heavy door and step into the empty men’s bathroom, your insides wounding themselves in knots. You scan the room, hunting for any trace of Evan, until your gaze lands on the locked door at the end. Curiosity gnaws at you, nudging you to investigate.

With a hesitant knock, you signal your presence. Before you can react, the door swings open, and Evan’s dark eyes greet you from the other side as he pulls you into the room.

The door clicks shut behind you as you quickly take in the gold-hued surroundings: a lavish toilet, a gleaming sink, and a long bench strewn with plush towels and designer toiletries. The place gives you a babushka-esque feel—a mini, fully-equipped restroom within the main one, and it’s like stepping into a VIP sanctuary.

Though, as you register Evan’s proximity, his body pressed flush against yours, your thoughts scatter like marbles on a polished floor, and pleasure sparks sizzle through your veins like a live wire.

“Hey,” you bleat, feeling the tension twist in your gut as you swallow hard, trying to steady yourself. 

His strong arms cradle your waist. He draws you into a tight embrace until you’re cocooned on his lap, the heat of his body searing into your skin.

You cross your legs as he closes the distance between you, his veiny hands fondling and squeezing your thighs greedily and possessively. 

“Evan,” you croak out, clearing your throat to ground yourself as he strokes your cheek with his knuckle. “I realise that might have been a bit much for public display…and I’m sorry,” you mumble, flashing him an apologetic look before averting your gaze.

But his expression remains stern, a furrow creasing his brow as he lets out an exaggerated huff—eyes hooded and mouth set in a grim line. “That won’t fix it, I’m afraid. I’m still hurt and embarrassed.” 

You quirk a brow at him, a hint of defiance in your gaze as you meet his unwavering stare. “And what do you suggest now?” you challenge with a sly smirk, a daring spark igniting in your face.

His lips curl into a sinister smile as he leans in, his scorching breath against your ear sending a tremor down your backbone. “Get on your knees, and use this beautiful mouth of yours to show me just how sorry you are,” he whispers as he’s massaging your tits, his words like an electric current buzzing through you at a high voltage.

You snort, your hand weaving through his silky hair as you draw him closer. “Oh, you think you’ve won? I’d be more than happy to suck you up—day and night, overtime included,” you purr, your voice husky with longing as you sink to your knees.

Positioned between his legs, you look up at him with a mischievous smile. “Someone’s suffering in there,” you coo and outline his stiff shaft with your tongue, feeling him twitch beneath the smooth fabric, aching for freedom.

Pinned against the wall, he sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, his hips buckling forward in desperate response.

The button of his slacks loosely holds on, barely containing his throbbing beast from bursting it open. Gripping the cold metal of his zipper between your teeth, you drag it down slowly, your pussy dripping as his low growl rumbles from his chest like distant thunder when he finally finds release.

You reach up, flipping down the elastic waistband of his boxers so you can slip your hand in, dragging your fingers along his pulsing crimson tip.

“Suck it, don’t tease,” he commands, his tone rigid and thick with desire. You comply without hesitation, eagerly licking off the subtle traces of his seed off the tip, twirling your tongue around it.

Your mouth is immediately slick with his precum, the thick fluid coating the corners of your lips. The heady scent drives you wild as you savour every drop of his essence. You keep using your tongue to smear some of it to the underside of the head, teasing at the ridges and pressing into the squishy flesh of his head.

He bites down on his lips, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he battles to muffle his grunts, his body quivering with need.  

When you finally close your lips around his painfully hard cock, he reacts with a sharp intake of breath. His fingers thread through your hair as he breathlessly whines your name like a fervent prayer. From that angle, his dimples appear as dark slits along his cheeks, adding to his rugged allure.

You meet his gaze with a sultry mewl of pleasure, giving your throat more room to take him in harder and deeper into your mouth. Flattening your tongue, you glide lower on him as you hold onto his pelvis until his head crushes the back of your throat, testing your gag reflex.

Challenge accepted; you handle him like a pro.

“Y/N, you’re… oh, fuck… No,” he sputters out with an intense shudder, rubbing his eyes as he fights the overwhelming tide of his impending orgasm.

“Load me,” you exhale teasingly as you pull him out of your mouth only to pump him back down with renewed hunger. He intertwines his fingers with yours, guiding your movements as you kick off a slow, torturous rhythmic ordeal just to gauge his reaction.

With a choked moan, he tightens his grip, sticking his convulsing cock all the way down with urgency, thrusting in your mouth with a ruthless pace.

His move and the resonance of his deep voice send a surge of heat to your core that consumes you, tripling the moisture in your panties.

You want him in ways that will add new sins to the bible.

Each time you rise, you suck his tip with fervour before slamming back down on his throbbing length. The symphony of moans he’s emitting are almost sinful—you’ve never gotten soaking wet just from hearing a man groan. He’s gonna be the death of your ovaries.

As you steal a gaze upwards, his abs glistening with a sheen of sweat, you watch his head fall back. “No,” he breathes out repetitively, his chest heaving and his Adam’s apple bobbing—a tell-tale sign that he’s on the brink of letting his load spray onto anything in the room.

His balls tighten, cock pulsing as his thrusts into your mouth turn sloppy and messy. Blinded by pleasure, his mind goes blank as he teeters on the edge.

Still panting, he hauls you off him more forcefully, his fingers hooking onto the hem of your stockings. You notice his nose scrunch up in clear disapproval as he glares at your lips—swollen and shining with wetness—immediately stripping you off your undergarments with raw intensity.

Flipping you over so your upper body’s bent over the wooden bench, he gropes your ass cheek before slapping it harshly, making you squeal with excitement. “Why do I have to say no twice?” he growls, his voice ringing with dominance as he claims you as his own.

You’re ovulating, so your audacity and inhibitions are thrown to the wind, acting like you’ve been dick-deprived your entire life. “I wanna tick you off so much you show no mercy. Just take me already,” you demand, your voice heavy with despair.

With a guttural groan, he obliges, rutting his hips as he lines up his leaking tip with your entrance. The moment he meets your wet folds, you both gasp in unison as he plunges in you. The sensation of him filling you up sparks fireworks as he humps you in long, steady thrusts, his velvet plush head bumping against your swollen clit with a delicious friction.

Your cries threaten to spill out, but his hand clamps gently over your mouth to shush you, his dark eyes flashing with warning. “We have to be quiet, baby,” he rasps, his voice tinged with lust. You turn over your shoulder and nod underneath his grasp, your half-lidded eyes glazing with pleasure.

A muffled yelp roars against his palm as he drills his aching cock deeper inside of you. You grip the edge of the bench tightly, and the sound of it banging against the wall echoes through the room, adding a primal rhythm to your ecstasy. The sensation of your slithery walls stretching to accommodate his thick dick is nothing short of mind-blowing for both of you.

Using the bench for leverage, he thrusts harder, his hand trailing up to caress the curve of your ribs as you writhe beneath him. “Fuck, I love your wet little pussy,” he hisses with primitive desire. “Cum for me, Y/N, all over my dick.”

“I’m getting there, baby. I wanna drown in your juices,” you moan, feeling his jaw slacken against your back as your walls pulse around his throbbing cock.

Just as the bench keeps bashing against the concrete wall in sync with your rising orgasms, a sudden crash breaks the intensity of the moment. The yellow paint plastic box from above the shelf tumbles down—its contents splattering over both of you and the wall, creating an impromptu abstract masterpiece in the spur of the moment.

You both freeze, paint trickling down your bodies, adding vibrant hues to your flushed skin. Evan blinks in surprise, his hands still gripping your hips as he takes in the colourful chaos engulfing you.

“Well, we certainly went hard on the paint,” he quips, trying to lighten the mood despite the unexpected interruption.

You chuckle nervously as you survey the lively mess. “Looks like we got more than we bargained for tonight,” you shoot back, your voice filled with playful mischief.

With a wicked smirk, Evan swipes paint off your cheek, leaving a colourful streak between you two as you embrace. “We’ve got a cleanup on our hands before we can get back to what we—” His words are abruptly cut off by approaching footsteps.

Though the intoxicating passion still clouds your mind, one detail arises with sobering clarity: You’re screwed (literally). 

“You hit it off with the first three cubicles, I’ll handle the ones from the end, and we’ll meet in the middle,” a deep man’s voice echoes from outside, sending a jolt of panic through both of you. 

Evan winces and involuntarily grabs your hand. Your body stiffens as you lace your clammy fingers with his, the paint already forming a small puddle at your feet.

Acting on pure instinct, he ushers you deeper into the toilet, using his foot to discreetly slide the torn condom wrapper closer to your hiding spot.

“What’s the plan now?” you mouth. Your palms are raised in a questioning gesture, fingers wiggling subtly, as your breath comes in shallow, shaky huffs.

Evan shrugs. “That was a plot twist, didn’t see it coming,” he replies, barely audible in his hushed response.

You hang onto his shirt for dear life, your face taking a ghost-like pale complexion as you weigh the consequences of the trouble you’re about to get in. “The door’s locked, but there’s a little slot under it. Shall I wait up here until they’re gone?” you pantomime your words, attempting to convey your plan to Evan with the finesse of a silent movie star. But as you try to hoist yourself up and chamber onto the toilet seat, you slip, almost tumbling backward.

Evan swoops in to catch you like a superhero, his forehead wrinkled by worry lines, eyes wide with alarm. “You good?” he whispers urgently, pressing a finger to his lips in a frantic plea for silence.

You nod vigorously, gesturing toward the door with exaggerated motions, communicating your escape plan like you’re on the charades: “Let’s go check if we’re clear, then sneak out.”

Nodding in silent agreement, he unlocks the door with a flick of his wrist. Poking his head out, he peers cautiously into the corridor. You stretch up on your tiptoes, craning your neck to peek out over his shoulder, scanning the corridor for any sign of movement.

Finding no one in sight, you both spring into action with the speed and stealth of seasoned spies. You snatch up as much toilet roll as you can, using it to hastily wipe away the evidence of your paint mishap. The paper becomes saturated with soap and water as you scrub your life away, determined to leave no trace behind.

Before you know it, Evan seizes your hand, purse and shoes, and you skitter out of the bathroom like you’re escaping a high-security prison. You zip past the slightly open doors of the other stalls, and as you weave the maze of hallways, you catch a glimpse of the two cleaning men hard at work—one wielding a toilet spray like a weapon on the lead, while the other, two doors ahead, diligently mops the floor.

 

You burst out of the bathroom, hearts racing and adrenaline pumping, feeling like you just pulled off the heist of the century. In the dimly lit corridor between the toilets and the restaurant, you exchange triumphant grins, basking in the rush of your daring gateway. With a quick, victorious high five, you’re both ready for the next phase of your adventure.

But before you can catch your breath, Evan pulls you close, his lips crashing against yours in a fiery kiss that sets you on fire. His tongue dances with yours, igniting a fierce passion between you. As his hands start to wander along your ass and clit, you can’t resist and melt into his touch, a soft moan slipping off you.

Reality hits you like a freight train, and you protest against his lips, reluctantly swatting his hands away and pushing him back gently. “You can’t waltz back to your table looking like nuggets dipped in mayo, and I don’t have a spare wardrobe stashed in my purse,” you whine. With a determined swipe, you rub off a scuff mark from his cheek, your thumb tracing the contours of his face as he nods in understanding.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says, and without missing a beat, he takes your hand and leads you in the direction of the toilet. But as you reach the door, he steers you towards the emergency door instead. Throwing yourselves outside, you’re met with the frigid night air, an uninviting shock after the warmth of the restaurant.

The cold bites at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms. But Evan is quick to replace your coat, which still hangs off your table chair, and envelops you in an embrace, rubbing your arms to warm you up.

You cling to him, his body heat a comforting embrace as he cups your hands in his, blowing warm breath into them. The moon casts a soft glow over a secluded pond before you, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the hotel.

“I’ve got good and bad news,” Evan chirps, his voice tinged with a mischievous undertone. You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued as you lean closer to him, flakes of paint dropping off your arms as he intensifies his rubbing.

“Spill the good news first. Enough shocks for today, I wanna buy myself some time.” 

“The good news is,” he begins, a grin spreading across his face, “my rented place is over there,” he reveals and points behind you. You follow his gaze to the tall complex of flats that extend from the main hotel.

You hum in acknowledgment, planting a quick peck on his lips. “Alright… and what’s the bad news?” you inquire, already bracing yourself for whatever curveball he’s about to throw your way.

“The bad news is that if we wanna keep the prying eyes at bay,” he continues, his eyes fixed on you in mounting suspense, “we’ve got some climbing to do.”

The grass crunches under your feet as you wade through the greenery, your heels sinking into the mud with each step. You duck under the low archway in the middle and reach the towering fence.

“Damn, that’s taller than I thought,” he mutters, eyeing the fence with a furrowed brow.

“Piece of cake,” you counter with a coy smile, tossing your heels on the other end. You make the first move by planting your toes on a cracked piece in the wall, gripping the hurdle tightly to propel yourself upwards.

As he gives you an extra push, his hands boldly grazing your ass, a mischievous sparkle gleams in his eyes. “Speaking of cakes,” he cheers, squeezing your curves as his eyes linger on the enticing view of your cunt beneath your dress, his grin broad and cocky.

“Stay focused, dude,” you hiss, playfully waving him away as you divert your attention back to the task at hand.

With a hint of concern in his voice, Evan watches you climb, ready to catch you if you falter. “Take it slow, Y/N. With this velocity, you gotta use one leg at a time...” he advises, his arms poised to assist you.

Rolling your eyes, you brush off his instruction. “The mansplaining’s redundant, Peters. I’ve got this,” you scold jokingly, confidently manoeuvring over the obstacles.

“It’s hard... oh, mind your head on the branches…” he mumbles, absentmindedly repeating “it’s hard” as he observes your every move with a mix of awe and disbelief.

When you safely tumble over to the other side, he can’t help but chuckle nervously, astonished by your agility. “Oh, that was easy…it was really easy, actually” he mumbles with a shake of his head, mouth agape, still processing your swift ascent.

“Come on, slowpoke,” you taunt, your voice laced with playful challenge. You dust off your hands, the thrill of the escape still coursing through your veins.

“I’m just taking my time,” he defends as he carefully navigates his way over the fence. 

“Says the guy who played Quicksilver,” you mock, giggling, and run your tongue along your teeth with a cheeky smile.

As Evan finally makes it over the fence, he stumbles on a loose stone, his footing giving way beneath him. You gasp, lunging forward to catch him as he starts to fall backward, his arms flailing wildly as he tries to regain his balance.

“Watch out!” you cry out, and you manage to pull him back from the brink of spraining his ankle on the way down. 

He winces in pain, clutching his leg as he tries to stand. “Ouch, that was close,” he groans, his breath hitched. 

Concern floods through you as you help him to his feet, supporting him as he tests his injured ankle. “You okay?” you ask, worry evident in your voice.

Evan nods, his expression strained. “I think so,” he replies, clenching his jaw against the discomfort.

You sigh, realising that your adventure may have taken an unexpected turn. “Maybe we should take it easy for now, old man,” you suggest once you realise he’s fine, suppressing a laugh as you guide him back to safety.

As you playfully rib Evan with the “old man” label, he retaliates by tickling you, his fingers sending ripples of loud laughter down your spine. You squirm and wriggle, trying to escape his teasing grasp, but he’s relentless.

“Alright, alright, I give up!” you yell, breathless from both laughter and excitement. But Evan doesn’t stop there. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he picks you up into his arms, his lips hammering against yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue swirling with yours. 

“Let me show you who’s the old man,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with desire and challenge as he carries you off.

The reception area lies deserted, and the dull glow of an overhead light seeps through the crack at the bottom of the slightly ajar cleaning storage door. 

“Anyone here?” he calls out, testingly, but there’s no response. Without wasting any time, you make a beeline for the elevator. The ding of the lift makes you jump, you launch your bodies up the stairs, bounding them up like a panther on the prowl, your feet padding down on the carpeted floor.

You creep into his room, edging the door shut until the latch clicks into place, and you pause to laugh at the yellow patches on your body. “I feel like I’ve just wrestled a pig in a mud pit.” 

“I’ve got the best way to clean it all up?” he mumbles sloppily into your lips, his arms folded around your waist, massaging your ass.

Hot water spurts out of the shower faucet, raining down marvellously on the tiled floor. You smile, holding your hand up to it and watching the paint, mostly dried now, run off your legs before landing on the ground and swirling around the drain. The temperature is heavenly, able to ease even the deepest aching of your shoulders, and your smile widens.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, planting a few teasing kisses along your exposed collarbone.

You bite down your lip at the sensation. “Finger-fuck while you kiss me, first. I need it,” you huff in despair, eyes imploring.

“You wish, I deliver, baby,” he breathes out, suckling on your pulse as you lightly pump his erect shaft in your hand in your fluid motion. He seems way too horny and too into you to say no.

He grunts and grounds his hips against your inner thigh. Against the wall, his fingers dip in, gathering some of your warm, slithery wetness and splotching it over your shiny folds. His free hand claws on your face, dragging you for a breathless kiss.

“Gosh,” you moan chokingly, an exhilarating lilt in your words. Your back arches as you feel that knot in your stomach beginning to snap. The pad of his middle finger keeps tapping and circling your clit, and you feel the escalating climb of your orgasm. Your legs start to twitch, and once he realises this, his fingers slowly drift away from your weeping cunt, his slick fingers gripping your thigh.

“Wh-why?” you protest in frustration.

Without uttering a single syllable, he snatches the detachable shower head, a smirk playing on his lips as he winds the cable around his wrist. He cranks the setting to its highest level and kneels down, parting your slopping folds with a confident touch. His lips curve in a devilish smile as he takes sight of your pulsating pussy clenching around nothing, giggling as he realises he’s edged you so badly.

As he positions the shower head near your throbbing clit, you instinctively clamp your hand over your mouth, stifling the shrill whimper that threatens to escape. The sensation of the water hitting your sensitive bud forces your breath out in punchy, laboured gasps as you feel the vibrations bringing your high closer.

He laps at your cunt like it’s a melting ice cream cone, and it doesn’t take long for your sweet cream to leak out along his mouth. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyelids fluttering as you’re consumed by the tsunami of your looming orgasm. Each flick of his tongue sends tremors through your thighs, the wet, slick sounds filling the room.

His tongue flattens out against your clit and you let out a needy whine, your hips instinctively bucking against his mouth. He presses his face deeper into your wet folds, tongue jerking at the underside of your clit. As he licks at your entrance, he sinks his tongue into your soaking hole, you cum on his tongue, grinding his face, moaning his name in heavy, ragged pants.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you, he stands up straight, his hands gently caressing your waistband in a soothing gesture. But you’re not done yet. With a hungry urgency, you pull him into a kiss, your lips melding together.

He backs you against the wall, hiking up your thighs and wrapping them tightly around his waist. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him to your dripping entrance. As he slams into you, the world around you fades away, and your head lolls back in ecstasy.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grunts as he pounds harsher and faster in you, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

Your slick is trickling down his cock, creating a slippery mess on his thighs as he drives into you relentlessly. His breathing picks up pace, the air thick with the heady scent of sex and steam. You almost had him, until his hands forces your hips down onto his cock as far as they would go, his tip nudging against your cervix.

A scream tears from your lips as you squirm against his ruthless assault and bruising force. The tip of his cock brushes against that spongy spot inside you time and time again, the lewd squelching sounds of your poor, swollen cunt only a faint indicator that you were close.

In the misty haze of the shower, you catch him smirk crookedly, pleased with the visual above him. Your tits bounce tantalisingly in front of him, a tempting feast he can’t resist as he reaches out to grab them in his mouth, eager to taste every inch of your trembling body.

As the unbearably tight, hot coil in your abdomen snaps, you’re unable to contain the set of moans that spill from your lips. A tingling heat spreads across your body, your muscles contracting and burning with the intensity of your release.

His face contorts in pleasure, his brows knitting together as his jaw drops in awe. His breaths come out in hurried, choppy huffs as he pumps inside you, warm, white strings of cum painting your walls as if he marks his territory and you as his own.

“Ugh, I’m dizzy...and l look like shit,” you huff out, your voice laced with giggles. Evan stays still for a moment, burying his face into the crook of you neck.

“You’re dizzy but beautiful,” he rasps, chuckling breathlessly, and you feel your cheeks flushing. He strokes your face, his touch tender and loving as he presses soft kisses against your lips. Your tongues dance together in a sweet and intimate exchange as soft moans escape both of you.

Slowly, he pulls out. A mix of your juices coats his tip as it drips from your hole in a seductive display of your shared ecstasy.

“I want cuddles on the bed now,” he says, his voice soft and pleading, a hint of a pout playing on his lips as he gazes at you with adoration.

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Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[luveline]

Eddie and Roan taking care of R when she gets sick?

thank you for your request! dad!eddie and his daughter roan taking care of almost stepmom!reader <3

"Still nauseous?" 

You look up from your makeshift den on the bathroom floor to Eddie's tall figure standing in front of you. He has the mouth of an open water bottle hanging between his fingertips at his hip, and a hopeful look on his ridiculously pretty face.

“You look nice,” you say. 

Eddie sits down on the floor beside you. It’s not every day he comes home smelling like diesel, but he had today, and the smell had turned your stomach unexpectedly. You worry he’ll still smell like it and try not to breathe in, despite his immediate shower after your first… eruption. 

“You always look nice,” he says, pressing the water bottle into your hand. 

He doesn’t have to ask you to drink. You take a bigger sip than you should, then another, swishing water around your mouth as your eyebrows pull together. 

“Not true,” you say as you swallow. 

“It is true.” He rubs down your cheek with the pad of his thumb. It’s not overly fond or anything, he’s just close enough and loves you enough that touching you is second nature. 

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No you’re not. And what does that have to do with looks?”

You’re close enough and love him enough that you know he won’t care if you hug him, despite your sick smell and puffy face. You ease your head over his shoulder and your arms around his waist, eyes wet but not crying. Life is full of a thousand different cause and effects but all you can feel right now is the abject unhappiness of having thrown up. It sucks. 

“Shouldn’t have eaten off of that food truck,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

You can feel the solidness of his arms against your upper back as he squeezes you lightly. 

“You’re not the first person to make that mistake,” he says. 

You feel sick, and you feel like an idiot, and your feelings are taking precedence now that your actions aren’t your own — you have no control over being sick, you can’t will your neck to stop aching from the strain. But you can take selfish comfort in the way Eddie’s shirt smells, relieved that the stick of diesel is gone. 

“You’re not an idiot. You’re just unwell, baby,” he says. You love how he says baby; it rolls off the tongue with his light-hearted tone. “You feel gross ‘cause you projectiled.”

You squirm in his arms. “Yikes.”

“Are you gonna throw up again?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Let’s get up. Go sit downstairs… away from the smell.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t be sorry for throwing up. It’s like saying sorry for going number two.”

You snort. Roan’s not even in the room and he’s talking like a dad. “Wayne said you used to curse like a sailor ‘n’ now you won’t say crap?”

“I was the fucking worst,” he says, laughing before he’s finished at his overused joke. “But I learned my lesson when she started saying fuck at the park when the swings were taken.”

Eddie doesn’t need to help you downstairs, but he grabs a chunk of your shirt like that’ll stop you from splatting if you trip. Roan’s music becomes clearer with every step, until you reach the bottom, and the cassette mix Eddie made for her last week is crystal clear, along with her excited singing. She’s listening to Footloose, and she’s dancing around the living room with Teddy the pink rabbit. He’s missing one ear, has been since you met them, and you don’t have to wonder why. He’s swinging from her pale fist by the remaining ear at force.

“You’re back!” she cheers when she sees you. She stops spinning and, clearly dizzy, stumbles a few steps in your general direction. 

“You’re gonna make your brains mush,” Eddie says. 

“Like potatoes,” she agrees. “Is it time for Swan Princess?”

“Yes! It’s absolutely time for Swan Princess. But dinner, Ro, sorry dinner’s late. Are you super hungry?” Eddie asks. 

You make your way through a maze on the floor of dolls, dress up shoes and Lego bricks. Every toy she could pull out of her toy chest has been pulled. You barely flinch as you step on a pair of doll’s sunglasses, used to bric a brac by now. 

“Not super hungry. Me and Teddy had those ants on logs.”

“Yeah, babe, but that’s not dinner, that was just a snack,” Eddie says, arms held out to offer Roan a lift. She steps into his reach. He pulls her up to his chest. “We are practising listening to our body, right? What’s tummy saying?”

“Tummy is saying we should have macaroni and double cheese.”

“Do we have any cheese?” Eddie asks you. Roan’s princess dress today is much too small for her, a turquoise mass of satin that you’ve watched her grow out of over time. “Sorry, I should know.”

“We should probably break up,” you say agreeably. How dare he not know if there’s any cheese in the fridge. “I think there’s a huge chunk of it by the butter on the top shelf, but check the best before.”

“We’ll check,” Eddie says. 

They leave, supposedly to check the best before and make dinner, and you stretch out on the couch feeling fragile and sorry for yourself, as is your right. Everybody gets sick, there’s no point in punishing yourself for it, but you can’t help that slither of self-hatred every time you think of that gross food truck. Food trucks are amazingly convenient and mostly delicious, and usually don’t turn out so badly for you, but when you saw that guy in the front coughing into his hands you probably should’ve turned around and walked away. 

He wasn’t cooking, you argue with yourself. 

But he was in the truck. 

“Bah,” you say, pulling Roan’s small heart-patterned throw blanket over your lap. You’d been hot as a furnace when you got home, but now you’ve thrown up you’re wracked with chills.

Who goes to culinary related work with a sick bug? you lament. 

Roan races in with a bottle of water in her hands. “I brought this for you,” she says, stopping at your knees. Her skirt tickles your calves. 

“Hey, thanks,” you say, clearing your throat. “Dad find the cheese?”

“Yeah, he’s chopping it.” She relinquishes her hold on the water, takes a step back, and then takes a step forward. “Do you want a kiss?”

“I think a kiss might be a bad idea. I don't know if I’m sick because the food wasn’t cooked right or if it’s a bug.” You frown at her. “Thank you anyways, princess.”

“What kind of bug?” she asks with a wrinkled nose. There’s a dawning horror in her small eyes. 

“Not that kind. A germ. When people don’t wash their hands,” you explain. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Best not get too close to me.”

Roan looks at you steadily. She squares her shoulders, turns her face to the side to suck in a big breath, and then throws her arms across your thighs. She squeezes you rather roughly considering her child-appropriate level of strength, and then dives backward like she’s going to burst. 

“I love you, I’m going back to the kitchen!” she announces, short of breath. 

You end up dozing off uncomfortably on the couch to the sounds of Roan’s cassette, the TV, Eddie’s unintelligible rambling and the sound of a wooden spoon scratching the bottom of a saucepan. It’s a credit to you how you’ve learned to sleep through most anything, even sick as a dog. 

You’re woken up by a hand on your shoulder later. Eddie’s perched on the arm of the couch, looking down at you with plain pity. “Poor baby,” he says, only half making fun as he kisses your forehead. “Made you some toast.”

“I can’t eat.”

“It’ll make you feel better. Probably.” He puts a plate in your lap. He hasn’t gone overboard, it’s one slice of white bread with a scraping of butter. 

“Sorry for making a mess,” you say. You pick up a triangle of toast hesitantly. “Defeated by a three dollar burrito. It’s sad.”

“So sad,” he says. 

Eddie’s hand climbs to the nape of your neck. He traces your hairline messily with the tips of his fingers. 

“Did you eat?” you ask, nibbling your toast. 

“We did. We saved you some. I don’t know if you’ll want it, but Ro insisted.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s trying to decide which one of her plushies to give you tonight. In case you can’t sleep.”

You lean back against the couch cushions with a small smile. “That’s really nice. You made a good one, Munson.”

He puts his hand back on your shoulder, leaning in to give you a quick squeeze. The toast is toast, nothing special. It certainly doesn’t make you magically better but it doesn’t make you feel any worse, either, so you finish most of it and delight in your reward — Eddie noses your temple, his breath hot on your face as he says, “I’ve had help... Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll feel better soon.”

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Hello! may I request any prompt of your choosing from the hurt/comfort list if I specifically ask for tlovm vaxleth? thank you!

10. "Don't worry about anything now."

It's cold in Whitestone, especially at night, but Keyleth doesn't feel it. Her body is warm, hot even, pressed back against Vax like this. His arm is draped over her, his chin hooked over her shoulder. Her naked shoulder. Because she's naked. They both are. Because they had sex.

Vax's breathing is slow and even, and Keyleth is working overtime to keep hers the same way. It's not that she's freaking out—she's not. Not really. Except her body is sore, pleasantly so, dully tingling in the memory of his hands on her, in her—oh, and while that was happening, the people of Whitestone were burying their dead. And Thordak was still burning Emon. And Raishan was probably plotting her inevitable betrayal. And Percy was lying in a tomb, surrounded by generations of deceased de Rolos. But oh gods, the things Vax's tongue can do.

She's a bad person. That has to be it. She gets together with Vax in their dead friend's home? While Vex is in mourning? Who does that? Sure, she was waiting for Vax to pull his head out of his ass long before Percy died, but still, she could have waited, should have waited, found a better moment, done everything differently—

"You're thinking so loud." Vax's voice is a sleepy rumble in her ear as his arm tightens around her.

She laughs nervously. "Sorry. Just, um. A lot to think about."

His nose trails lazily up the back of her neck. "Care to share?"

Now she's in a pickle. She can't tell him what she was really thinking about, because then he'll think she regrets sleeping with him, which she doesn't—at least, not like that. And she's always been so bad at lying. And if she says she's thinking about Percy, will he think she wishes he were here instead? Because wow, no. She has to lie. But say what—

"Kiki, seriously. If you think any louder you're going to wake up the whole castle."

"Was this a mistake?" She feels his body stiffen, and his arm starts to retract. Fully panicking now, she grabs his hand, uses it to tug herself around so she's on her back, where she can see his face. It's shell-shocked, hurt. "That is not what I meant. I don't—I don't regret this. I don't regret you. I promise, Vax."

His face softens a bit, but he's still regarding her skeptically. "I'm really struggling to find another interpretation here, Kiki."

"No, I know, I just meant—" She throws her forearm over her eyes so she doesn't have to look at him. "Percy is dead and Vex is heartbroken and Whitestone is in ruins again and we have to fight Thordak and Raishan is such a bitch and gods I am so behind on my Aramenté and really what right do I have to be happy with you when everything is terrible—"

He shuts her up by kissing her. His hand pulls her face closer to his, and her arm falls away from her eyes as she melts against his lips. For a moment, everything is quiet.

"Keyleth," he murmurs against her mouth. "You are beautiful and powerful and wise and so very, very silly."

"I'm not—"

"You are. There is no 'deserving' happiness. There is just...finding it. With our friends. With our families." His thumb traces little circles where his hand cups her jaw. "Here, in this bed, with you. You know, a very wise woman once pointed out to me how foolish it was to forgo current happiness for fear of future pain." He smirks at her. "I'd hate to see her forgo current happiness because she's guilty about the suffering of others."

Keyleth chews her lip. "But there are things we could be doing. People we could be helping."

"We can't help anyone if we're too exhausted to stand. C'mere." He gently spins her around again so that he's spooning her, her hand cupped in his, and yeah, the feeling of him behind her, warm and solid, does make the brain chatter quiet a bit. "Don't worry about anything now. We have so much time to worry, I promise you. All of the things you're concerned about will be there in the morning, and so will I." He kisses the nape of her neck. "I don't know what the future holds, but I can't imagine thinking about that when I have my favorite person in the world in my arms."

He squeezes her close, and Keyleth breathes in the arm, woodsy scent of him. Alright. Maybe he's right. Maybe the horrors will still be waiting come daylight. Maybe they can share this night, and the happiness it has brought them. She closes her eyes, and soon, she is dreaming of hundreds more nights, just like this.

[philistiniphagottini]

who doesn’t have a terrible oral fixation? 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ but anyways, good morning ٩(˶˃ᗜ˂)و what a wild thing to wake up to LMAO HELLO NAGII i hope that you’re all okay, i just got out of work and so my brain is so fried... frazzled, everywhere. if it’s not too troubling, i’d really love to request some clit warming with shenhe and a vocal fem reader please? ദിˆᵕˆ)   just something about shenhe and her strong arms keeping the reader from squirming about too much makes me feral 🩷

Hello Miauamy darling. I would say I'm sorry that you woke up to my horny brain rot but honestly? I'm not. If I have to suffer with sordid thoughts of yearning, then so do you :)) It will happen again. Lol anyways, thank you for the request, always happy to get requests for the lovely ladies. And Shenhe makes me feral too with how strong she is. I want her to sweep me off my feet. I want it to be bridal style but she'd probably just throw me over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes XD I hope you don't mind that I made it for chubby reader too. I hope you enjoy~

cw. smut, oral sex, clit warming, squirting, female reader, chubby reader, minors DO NOT interact

A salacious moan breezed past the seam of your kiss swollen lips when you felt Shenhe’s warm breath fluttering over your dripping pussy, the hot puff of air making every hair on the nape of your neck stand up in anticipation. A warm hum stirred in her throat as she smoothed her hands over your plump thighs, fingers sinking into generous amounts of skin as she grabbed your legs and hauled them over her strong shoulders. You squeaked loudly as she continued to lift you, your hands scrambling for purchase on the mattress and fingers knotting in the sweat soaked sheets as Shenhe manhandled you like gravity was just a mere suggestion to her. Your legs kicked uselessly over her back as her hands gripped your hips and held you firm, limiting your range of movement as the upper part of your back was the only thing left pressed into the mattress. 

“Stop squirming” Shenhe spoke softly, the heat of her breath fanning over your puffy folds. 

Your hips twisted in her grip, lungs pinching in your chest as you swallowed around the small lump in your throat, head already spinning in a tizzy as she lifted you with such dizzying ease it made your knees shake. 

“Shenhe, I don’t think you-oh!”

Another salacious moan bubbled up the back of your throat as Shenhe pressed her lips against you, smearing her powder blue lipstick over the labia of your cunt as you choked on a hiccup of pleasure. Heat tickled the base of your spine and slowly pooled into the pit of your stomach as Shenhe’s lips trailed higher over the dripping slit of your pussy, thumbs coaxing the sticky folds apart until the aching nub of your clit was exposed to her hungry gaze. She didn’t utter a single word as she stared at the slick pearl, watching it twitch and pulse for attention as soft whimpers fell from your parted lips. You tried biting at your hands, teeth sinking into the skin of your palms as you tried to muffle the obscene noises that tickled your throat. You failed miserably as Shenhe sucked the pretty bud of your clit into the hot, wet cavern of her mouth.

You shrieked as her plush lips sucked the tightly packed bundle of nerves into her mouth, her tongue coming to cushion the flushed nub as your blood simmered hotly in your veins. Goosebumps prickled your flesh despite the heat of your searing skin, beads of your arousal dripping down the soft insides of your plump thighs as another rush of slick dribbled from the fat folds of your creamy pussy. You couldn’t contain the twitch of your hips as you tried to buck up into her mouth, trying to chase sparks of friction as Shenhe warmed your clit in her mouth. A short huff of air blew out of her nose in amusement, the warm brush of air puffing against your creamy folds. She pinched your hip with one hand, nails gently scratching at your skin as her other lazily swatted your backside, causing another loud shriek of bliss to echo around your stuffy bedroom. 

The tips of your fingers started to tingle with numbness as you were subjected to Shenhe’s strange flavour of rapturous torture, your clit kicking impatiently along her tongue as you were edged closer and closer to your encroaching orgasm. The pleasure was left to slowly burn in your system like the kindling of a fire, needing just a lick more of fuel before it could catch and be engulfed in the heat of the flames. Your toes curled into the soles of your feet as she swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth, your soused lashes fluttering over your burning cheeks as you mewled with sordid content. Shenhe watched you with a lidded stare, her gaze boring into the way your sumptuous body swayed as she suffocated herself more between your thick thighs. Your legs squeezed around her head, wisps of her fair hair tickling the sensitive skin as your plush thighs warmed her ears and the natural scent of your musk stuffed her nose full. 

Your chest heaved with exertion as it felt like the minutes whittling by stretched into hours and you could have sworn the shadows in your room had gotten longer as the sun began to dip below the horizon. But you were pleasantly helpless in Shenhe’s grip as she stopped you from squirming and your frustration was starting to boil over. A constellation of unshed tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you sniffled softly, body trembling as you reached the end of your tether. 

“Shenhe, please” you softly begged, voice cracking around the edges. “Please, wanna cum…wanna cum so, so bad.”

Her gaze flickered down to you as the words spilled from your lips, voice starting to slur as you struggled to think past the thick haze fogging up your head. You whined at the loss of warmth as she suddenly let go of your clit with a loud pop, her saliva dripping through your creamy folds as your fluttering hole clenched around emptiness. Shenhe hummed softly as she blew a puff of air directly on your clit, observing the way you twitched and whined from the stimulation. She gently pat your thigh as her tongue gently lapped at her spit soaked lips, her chin dripping with her essence. 

“Sweet” she mumbled to herself.

She finally listened to your pleas and sucked the pearl of your clit back into her mouth, tongue gently twirling around the hood as she rolled the nub behind her teeth. Stars wavered in your vision before you screwed your eyes shut against the onslaught of bliss boiling in your soft belly, the coil blistering hot as you were intimately ripped apart at the seams. The hot coil shattered into a million tiny pieces, flooding your veins in white hot relief. Thin threads of translucent fluid squirted from your core and webbed on Shenhe’s lips as another hum of content stirred in her chest. You trembled like a wet leaf in Shenhe’s firm grip as she drank every drop that spilled from you, savouring you like you were the finest ambrosia to ever grace her tongue. 

You peeled your eyes open when it felt like your head wasn’t spinning anymore, only to be greeted to the sight of the lovely flush staining Shenhe’s cheeks as she parted from the messy folds of your cunt, soft pants tumbling from her mouth as she stared at you in a daze. You could see the question itching at the back of her scalp, laying heavy on her tongue as she stared at you with longing, her grip not even easing in the slightest since she had first gotten her mitts on you. Once your senses came back to her, you offered her a shy smile. 

“Can you do that again?” you asked.

[alexawynters]

Scarlet Whispers pt. 8

Gif not mine, as always

Trigger Warnings: Smuttttttt. Horribly written smut.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Masterlist with parts 1-7 here

Chapter Eight

Translations: котёнок - Kitten; malyshka - baby; lyubov - love; dorogoya - darling; I probably missed some… I should have probably been doing this the entire time, no? Eh… My b.

A/N: Its uhhh.. My first time writing smut for the public so uh… be gentle pls? Lol. Lemme know how it went. Writing dialog and smut makes me cringe haha. This was also written while I was in the hospital. Is it bad that the 5 day stay was almost a vacation compared to life? Haha, living the dreeeaammm. Someone pls hit me with their car or something so I can go back and have 0 responsibilities for another week. Promise I won’t sue 😛

Once again, edited while floaty. Apparently that’s the only time I can get the motivation to open my laptop. In my defense, I’m currently in the middle of a move and starting a new job so pls forgive my laziness. I’m a tad overwhelmed. It’s finnnne. 

____________________________________________________________

During your time at the aquarium with Wanda, you hadn't noticed how late it had gotten. Logically, you knew it was around dinner time because you both had just eaten, but you didn't realize until you both entered the dimly lit cottage that it was so dark outside. Despite the long day you’d had, you weren't ready to go to bed just yet. Body thrumming with an unfamiliar energy, and you could tell it stemmed from Wanda's hand still holding onto your waist. Now that you were home, it would be socially acceptable for her to let you go, but instead, she chose to linger.

Never one to enjoy having others in your personal space, regardless of if you were touch starved, you were thrilled to discover that you didn't mind the witch being so close to you. In fact, the mere thought of being separated from her made your stomach roil with anxiety. Looking at the redhead next to you as you traversed the hallway towards your room for the evening, a new kind of craving overcame you. This one was different from the hunger you had experienced just before dinner, and you realized that you couldn't get enough of the witch’s touch and presence.

Reaching your shared room Wanda finally moves to separate from you, and as she heads opposite from you, her hand falling away, you make a split-second decision. Well. Decision was being generous. More accurately you allowed your impulses to take over, unable to think logically - you couldn’t let Wanda get too far. Not that there was anywhere for her to go in a bedroom you both shared, but your brain wasn’t exactly running on all cylinders at this time.

“Wait!” 

You don’t know what, or even if you were thinking, knowing only that in the scant few feet the witch was away from you, your whole world felt like it was collapsing. A lightly calloused hand shot out as you turned to grab her hand again, and in your exuberance, you accidentally ended up yanking the woman towards you. In an unexpected feat of grace surprising both of you, you managed to catch Wanda. Despite her velocity, you were able to use her momentum, spinning both of you. A small jolt of pain wracked through your bones as your back landed harshly against the smooth wall, with Wanda safely in your arms. Chests heaved for air, both of you having fully expected to collide, ending up in a heap on the floor.

After the initial surprise wore off, both women giggled, though neither made a move to separate. “What is it, Y/N?” the older woman asked. Amusement colored her gaze, mixed with something else you couldn’t quite decipher. You were still learning new facial expressions to this day. 

“I-” You started then stopped, trying to assemble your thoughts and determine just how vulnerable you were willing to be. “Thank you, Wanda. For today. For… everything. This was..” you trailed off, unable to find the words. “Everything.”

You hoped Wanda would understand what you meant by that even if you yourself weren’t quite sure just yet. What you were sure of is that you wanted to return to Wanda at least a fraction of the care and devotion she had shown you in all this time. You knew you didn’t want her to walk away, heart aching at the concept. What you didn’t know was what you wanted to do next, you hadn’t exactly gotten that far, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of being apart from her.

The redhead’s gaze softened at your words. “You don’t need to thank me, lyubov. You deserve so much, and I just want you to be happy.” 

The words “with me” went unspoken, though she was dying to let them out. Instead, well-manicured hands lifted the tips of her fingers to gently push some fallen strands of your hair from  your face, as she studied you curiously. A feeling you both were on the precipice of something settled firmly within the witch’s chest. Wanda was fairly confident she knew exactly what that something was, but she wouldn’t plunge you into anything you weren’t yet ready to fall into.

Though certain in her assumptions, Wanda was unable to clearly read your surface thoughts. A jumbled mass of emotions, each thought no more than fleeting before another took its place, your mind was a whirlwind. The next steps had to be taken by you, and if you weren’t up for that yet, the redhead was content with where you both were at this moment. 

A palpable tension filled the air, conveying an unspoken awareness that something transformative was about to occur. Anticipation lingered in the atmosphere, creating a delicate blend of nervousness and excitement. There was an understated, magnetic attraction that drew you closer to Wanda. Completely unaware as you were, enthralled by the alluring softness of her lips which stoked a longing within you to know if they felt as velvety as they appeared, you were unconsciously learning forward.

It was a moment of breathless expectation, where time seemed to stretch. The world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you suspended in the beauty of the impending inevitability. Eyes finally connecting with Wanda’s, a silent, mutual understanding was shared, and in that moment, you made a decision.

”May I…?” your voice a husky tremor, thick with emotion.

Never had Wanda found you more endearing than in that moment. Your innocent consideration that you would need to ask her permission after everything. As if she hadn't been waiting for this very moment for so long. As if this wasn’t what she had been waiting for since first discovering the Darkhold, and all the possibilities of a multiverse.

“Please, Y/N.” The witch’s reply was all but a breathy whisper.

As your lips and hers finally connected in a gentle, exploratory kiss, an electric current seemed to pass through their bodies, igniting a fire within your souls. It was a moment of pure magic, a culmination of all the emotions and desires that had been building between you both. Breaths mingled, blending together in a perfect harmony of passion and longing.

The softness of the kiss spoke volumes, revealing a depth of connection that you were certain words could never fully capture. A tender exchange, filled with a delicate balance of vulnerability and trust. Each touch, each movement of Wanda’s lips against yours, was deliberate, as if she was savoring every precious moment of this newfound intimacy with you.

With every passing second, the world around faded away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a bubble of pure bliss. Time seemed to stand still as you explored this uncharted territory together. A feeling as if something inside, you hadn’t known had been missing, was now perfectly slotted into place. Home.

When it came to kissing you, Wanda marveled at the stark contrasts between your Avenger variant, and you. While your other variant was self-assured, often taking command of a kiss with practiced skill, you, on the other hand, were gentle and tentative. It was evident that you were willing to let Wanda take the lead, which she found incredibly empowering, almost addictive. She knew she should probably take this first kiss slowly for you, however, your submissiveness was simply too delicious for her to pass up such an opportunity.

Long, slender fingers came to rest just under your jaw, firmly holding you close, Wanda using her body to press you harder against the wall, as if trying to merge your two bodies into one. A gasp escaped you at the length of the witch’s body pressed so intimately against you. Wanda, ever opportunistic, took advantage of your open mouth to deepen the kiss, her lithe tongue swiping softly at the seam of your lips in askance. 

You couldn’t even fathom a moment where you would ever deny Wanda this request, opening your mouth to grant her the access she desired. Her skillful tongue sensually slid against yours, eliciting a barely suppressed whimper from you. With a little coaxing Wanda was able to entice your tongues to engage in a seductive dance, leaving you breathless and heady. 

Eventually, the kiss broke, leaving both of you craving more. It had opened the door to a world of possibilities, and in that moment, everything changed. The bond between the pair of you had deepened more than you could know, and more than Wanda had hoped for. Despite initial reservations, your heart knew then you would follow Wanda anywhere, irrevocably tied to the witch forever. There was no one you wanted or trusted more.

While trying to catch your breath, no words were spoken. Taking this moment, your intrusive thoughts began creeping in because of course they were. Desperately you hoped the woman wouldn’t view the kiss as a mistake, praying that you measured up to your superhero counterpart. That you were truly what she had been looking for all this time, even if you weren’t anything special.

You would do anything to have her lips on yours again, and briefly a thought occurred to you that this woman could murder you, and you would probably thank her for the privilege. Therapy, maybe you should ask Wanda if she could get you in to see a therapist, because that wasn’t concerning at all. 

It wasn't in you to feel ashamed just then though, not when the very thought resonated in your soul. Gods, was this what you had been missing your entire life? And it had been right under your nose, for ages you had been unknowingly depriving yourself, hellbent on self-sabotage.

As you finally caught your breath, the witch gazed at you hungrily, causing a shiver to race down your spine.

"What do you want, detka?" Wanda asked, voice sultry. She tilted her head as if curious, but in reality, she was relishing in your disheveled appearance, eyes raking over your blown pupils, and kiss-swollen lips. So responsive for her, and this was only a kiss. Your first kiss with her, to be specific. Wanting to completely ruin you, it took every ounce of self-restraint for Wanda to wait for your answer instead.

Chest heaving, your brain struggled to pull together enough brain cells in order to provide her with an answer. When you finally spoke, your voice had a throaty quality you had never heard before.

”You. I want you.”

Green eyes, the color of jade, sparkled in such delight they could have practically illuminated the room with their vibrant glow. As you stared into her mesmerizing gaze, you got lost in her presence. Your mind was a myriad of thoughts, unable to focus on anything else. Every word she spoke, every movement she made, had a profound impact on you. As if the witch had cast a spell over you, weaving her magic effortlessly, and you willingly succumbed to her enchantment, eager to be under her captivating influence. 

A mischievous smile played upon her lips, adding an air of mystery to her already enchanting demeanor. The grin hinted at the hidden depths within her, the playful intentions that lied just beneath the surface. So, as Wanda’s mischievous smile lingered, you couldn't help but be drawn further into her web of enchantment, willingly surrendering yourself to the metaphorical spell she had cast.

"Oh, lyubov, will you let me ruin you?" she asked teasingly, her voice filled with impishness and a hint of excitement.

Swallowing nervously, you felt desire building deep within you. Your experiences in this matter were limited, but you trusted the former avenger all the same. Still, you had a sneaking suspicion that whatever Wanda had in store for you would likely test your limits, even if you had no idea what those were yet. Eagerly, you nodded, ready to throw yourself headlong into this unknown, trusting the witch implicitly.

The moment her silky lips met yours once again, a hunger ignited within her, surprising both of you with its intensity and passion. Wanda pulled you close, her fingers curled in your hair, keeping you in place as she plundered your mouth. You could do little but let her lead the way, trying not to embarrass yourself with how much she was turning you on. Her sharp teeth tugged on your lower lip before biting down hard enough to draw blood. A pitiful whine was barely restrained by you as Wanda lapped at the new wound she had caused.

Deciding to test your boundaries during the kiss, the redhead gently wrapped her other hand around your throat. Not tight enough to cut off your oxygen supply, but the pressure did restrict some of the blood flow to your brain, leaving you in a deliciously foggy haze. A breathy moan escaped you, which Wanda eagerly swallowed as you gladly ceded control of the kiss to her. Pride out the window, you were no longer capable of trying to withhold any sounds she could draw from you. Wanda found it delightful that so far you were proving to be the perfect little котёнок for her. The redhead eagerly anticipated discovering what other surprises you had in store for her.

The other hand not on your neck moved from your hair down to the first button of your shirt and hesitated. “Is this okay, Y/N?” She asked, voice surprisingly soft for someone who currently had one of their hands wrapped around your neck.

Sluggish thoughts hazy with lust, you nodded with what would have probably counted as an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm. Having someone as gorgeous as Wanda in front of you, asking for your consent, you found you couldn’t be bothered by your eagerness. You were a simp, and you were fine with that. Anything to get more of Wanda touching you.

The former Avenger grinned, finding you utterly adorable. She was charmed by how needy you were for her. Unable to help but revel in the power dynamics between you, relishing the opportunity to challenge your blissed-out mind and watch as you struggled to comply with her demands. It was a delightful game for Wanda, and she was going to have fun training you.

Before she could continue though, the witch wanted you to be absolutely sure. Regardless of how long she had waited for you, if you weren’t truly ready, Wanda didn’t want to push you. She wanted all of you, everything you had to give, but if you still weren’t ready, weren’t sure, she could wait. Wanda would wait forever if she had to. 

 “Lyubov moya, if you want me to stop at any point, just say the word, and I’ll stop immediately, okay? Full stop, I promise, and I won’t be upset with you.” she insisted, voice thick with longing as her nose grazed gently across yours in a reassuring manner. 

Even now, Wanda was always putting your safety and happiness as her top priority, endearing her evermore to you. How could you have ever doubted that this woman had anything but your best interests at heart? The purest of intentions?

Knowing it was a bit over dramatic, while you appreciated her reassurances, if the witch didn’t do something in the next few seconds, you felt like you might combust. Releasing a needy whine, you hoped to convey your desperation to Wanda who only chuckled at your behavior. 

“Relax, malyshka, I’ll take good care of you, I promise. But first, I need you to use your words, darling.” The hand on your throat easing its grip a little, allowing more blood to your brain, giving you back some of your intellectual capacity.

With Wanda’s body covering yours, you petulantly ground against her in the hopes of achieving any sort of friction, causing her lips to quirk upwards in an amused smirk. You weren’t going to get out of this until she had confirmation of your understanding, and if she happened to tease you into a petulant, writing mess in the process, well, that was just the cherry on top.

Giving in, you let out a keening whimper. “I understand Wands, please. Just touch me. Please!”

A wolfish grin overtook Wanda’s face at your begging. Green eyes locked with yours, and she could see the desire and longing in your eyes, mirroring her own. The way you looked at her, with a mixture of vulnerability and trust, made her heart flutter with a sense of joy and fulfillment. You were willing to surrender yourself to her guidance, to allow her to take the lead and shape you into the person she knew you could become. That kind of implicit trust and faith you had in her shot her arousal through the roof.

With each passing moment, Wanda's excitement grew, knowing that she had the opportunity to train and mold you into her perfect little котёнок. She relished the thought of all the fun games that lay ahead, confident in her ability to guide you towards your full potential. Your willingness to submit to her desires fueled her passion, making her all the more determined to own you completely. This power was the ultimate high, and she didn’t think she could ever get enough of it.

Her hand moved from your throat to wrap around your waist with a firm yet gentle grasp, pulling you closer to her in an undeniable display of ownership. The touch of her hand on your hip sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, igniting a fire within you that you had never experienced before. It was a possessiveness that transcended the boundaries of mere desire, a possessiveness that spoke volumes about the depth of her emotions for you.

Far from being suffocating, her dominance was a testament to the strength of your bond. A tangible manifestation of the passion that burned between the two of you, it was a flame that only grew stronger with each passing moment. Her assertive touch was a declaration, a proclamation of her utter devotion and fierce protectiveness towards you.

In that instant, you couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the intensity of her feelings. A sensation that both thrilled and comforted you, it was a magnetic pull that drew you closer to her with each passing second. Feeling as if you were the center of her universe, the focus of her unfaltering attention, and you visibly preened under her attentiveness. Your hands which were clenching the bottom of her shirt held fast, unwilling to let her move more than a few inches away.

Now that she had your consent and had subtly established your place with her, Wanda's svelte hands returned to the task of unbuttoning your shirt. Unable to resist the allure of your lips for long, she passionately kissed you once again. As your lips moved against each other with a sensual rhythm, Wanda swiftly unbuttoned your shirt. Before you knew it, your shirt was completely undone, revealing your torso to her exploring hands. A shiver ran through your body as her slightly cool palm pressed against your abdomen for the very first time, the gravity of her body pressing you further into the wall. While you had felt her touch on your skin before, it had never been this intimate, this exhilarating.

As her hand glided over your bare skin, heat coursed through your body, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. The flames within you steadily stoked by every caress. Your breath hitched as her touch lingered, tracing delicate patterns along your abdomen.

Growing desperate you deepened the kiss. Your hands instinctively reach for her, moving from the hem of her shirt to tangle in her hair as you pull her closer. The magnitude of the moment was almost too much, feeling the desire consuming you from within.

Wanda's lips slid against yours with a fervent hunger. Her roving hands continued their journey, tracing every curve and contour of your torso with an almost reverent touch, sending pleasure coursing through your body. As your lips moved in perfect synchrony, heightening your senses, it left you yearning for more. The room was filled with a heady mix of desire and anticipation, as you both gave in to the draw of the moment..

Lost in the haze of passion, you couldn't help but give yourself completely to Wanda's touch. The way she explored every inch of your body with a delicate yet possessive hand left you breathless, craving more of her commanding aura. It was a dance of pleasure and surrender, a symphony of sensations that left you craving her touch like a drug. You had never needed anyone or anything as much as you needed Wanda to continue doing whatever she wanted to you.

As the kiss broke, both of you gasped for air. Wanda, still breathing heavily, leaned back to take in the sight of your newly revealed skin, her eyes darkening with want. Though never having been confident in your own body, often choosing to cover up, to hide in your self-consciousness, the way Wanda was looking at you now though left no doubt she liked what she saw. Yet still your insecurities plagued you, especially now that you were no longer covered up and there was nothing for you to hide behind.

The witch didn’t need to read your mind to know where your thoughts were going. The expression on your face, the way you tried to curl in on yourself made it plain. Voice thick with desire, Wanda needed to reassure you. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N. Don’t ever let yourself believe otherwise.”

Though you didn’t truly believe her words, her tone and the way she held you like she couldn’t get enough was almost capable of convincing you in and of itself. You decided then that throwing yourself into this was the fastest way to get out of your head. Throwing caution to the wind, you slammed your lips against Wanda’s again, desperate for more of her.

Impatient, you couldn't resist the urge to guide Wanda's hands lower, craving for her to touch you more. Deft fingers brushed against a particularly sensitive spot, sending a surge of pleasure  shooting through you, and tearing a quiet gasp from your mouth. Your body responded eagerly to her every caress, arching into her hands, silently begging for more. Emboldened by your response, Wanda's touch grew daring, her kisses to your neck pressing harder leaving red welts that would purple over by tomorrow. Her marks on you would tell all who you belonged to. Her fingers began exploring your body with a newfound confidence. The touch was both gentle and possessive, leaving you with the utter clarity that she wanted to mark every inch of you as her own, even the parts of you no one else would ever see.

The room was filled with the sound of your shared breaths, heavy with desire. Feeling the urgency building within you, your body pressed closer to Wanda's, seeking to ease some of the pressure within. Her touch was all at once overwhelming yet not enough.

Determined to elicit every delicious sound she could from you, one of Wanda's hands finally moved to your breast. Gently she cupped it while her thumb teased you by gliding around your areola, avoiding your hardened bud. She took great enjoyment in your whimpers and gasps as she teased you. If she had it her way, she would keep you like this, never giving you quite what you wanted. Wanda would ease you into that eventually though. For now, this was enough.

Eventually she had mercy on you, letting her thumb lightly graze across your nipple. A deep, throaty groan emanated from within you, your hips bucking against hers, unbidden. Taking the opportunity you had presented her with, Wanda slotted her knee between your thighs, applying firm pressure just where you needed it most. You whispered an exhaled curse as your head slumped forward onto the older woman’s shoulder. Your grip on her tightened, the urge to just rut against Wanda’s leg nearly overpowering what little was left of your rational mind.

Wanda could feel the subtle grinding of your hips against her leg, and she encouraged it, pressing harder each time you arched towards her. The witch grasped your hips firmly, helping to set your rhythm as you desperately sought more friction between the apex of your thighs.

For someone who hadn't even taken off their pants yet, you were surprisingly worked up, but you were far too focused on chasing your high to be overly concerned about it. Sensing how close you were, Wanda pulled away from you, calling forth a keening whine from you. The older woman chuckled softly at your desperation. Her raspy voice next to your ear made you shudder. 

"Patience, dorogoya, I don't want you to come just yet unless it's in my mouth or on my fingers."

Wholly unprepared for her words as you were, they almost single-handedly threatened to ruin the witch’s plans as you nearly came on the spot. Wanda was aware that you had likely never edged before, and while she should have shown some mercy, she found no enjoyment in that prospect. Her intention was to have you so drunk for her to the point where you would become a helpless, trembling wreck, willing to do anything she desired just to reach that peak. Then, she planned to repeatedly push you off that ledge so many times that you would be a boneless, quivering mess for her by the time she was done with you.

As her words hung in the air, you felt a mixture of anticipation and hesitation. This was a new territory for you, one that you weren't entirely sure of what you were getting into. But as you looked into Wanda's eyes, filled with desire and a touch of mischief, you couldn't deny your feelings. You wanted to experience everything she was willing to show you, to give yourself fully and trust in her to guide you through this journey of pleasure.

With a deep breath, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper, "I trust you, Wanda."

A smug smile played on Wanda's lips as she gently held your cheek. "Good," she purred, her voice laced with satisfaction. "I promise you won't regret it. Now, let’s take this to the bed.” She didn’t want your first time together to be rutting up against a wall.

Wanda grasped your hand, leading you the remainder of the distance to your shared bed. Once there the witch assisted you in removing the remnants of your clothes, gently pushing you backwards onto the bed. Before joining you, she took a moment to admire your naked body, as you looked up at her with a combination of desire and excitement. You were uncertain of her intentions, but the fact that you were willing to trust her filled Wanda's heart with joy.

With a gaze that could only be described as ravenous, she studied you and quietly uttered a curse. "Fucking exquisite" she husked, hoping to drive home her words from earlier.

Squirming under her intense gaze, you blushed deeply at her compliment. No one had ever called you that before, not in your entire life. The longer you laid there, alone under her scrutiny, the greater your need for Wanda grew. Before you could ask her to rejoin you, she was already removing her own clothes with purpose. You waited with bated breath, as Wanda revealed her body which you swore could have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Honestly, you thought it was a little unfair for someone to look so perfect. You felt absolutely privileged to be in this moment with her, that she had chosen you of all people to witness her glory. No one you had ever seen, in person or even on tv could compare. Wanda was a goddess, and you wanted to worship at her altar.

The redhead knew she was an attractive woman, but your loud thoughts were giving her quite the ego boost. She had you right where she wanted you, but Wanda would be damned if she allowed your self-deprecation to continue. There was not a single doubt in her mind that you were equally deserving to be here with her.

“Your thoughts are loud, malyshka.” She almost giggled at how red your face turned when she called you out, reminding you of her powers, and your gaze dropped.

 “While I’m flattered, darling, you need to know.” Wanda said with certainty as she began crawling up the bed towards you. Once she had crawled up the length of your body, the witch trailed her fingertips along your thigh, and up your torso to your face. Curling a graceful finger under your chin, she tilted your face upwards until you made eye contact.

“You are stunning, lyubov moya. There is no one else I would want to be here with right now. Not in the entire multiverse, believe me, I’ve looked. No one but you. Can you trust me on that, Y/N?”

Green eyes searched Y/E/C for any sign of lingering insecurity. With the witch looking at you so earnestly, your doubts faded into the background. They would likely never be completely silent, but in this moment, those thoughts were just white noise. Speaking was currently too difficult for you so instead you simply nodded at her words.

No longer able to hear your uncertainty as loudly, Wanda felt you were ready to continue. “Good, but just to make sure, I’m going to show you.”

Before you could ask what she meant, Wanda kissed you again. Her hand, which was previously under your chin, caressed down your chest and cupped your breast. She gave it a gentle squeeze, causing a soft sound to escape your throat.

As Wanda's touch re-ignited the flicker of pleasure within you, her lips and tongue traced a path of heated kisses down your neck, leaving a hot trail of saliva behind. Her skilled hand continued to explore your body, evoking an oeuvre of gasps and moans. Eventually, her lips settled on one of the places you desired the most, enveloping your nipple.

Once Wanda's lips closed around your hardened bud, a jolt of pleasure shot through your body, causing you to arch your back in response. Her tongue teased and circled the sensitive bud, sending ecstasy pulsating through your veins. While Wanda continued to lavish attention on your aching nipple, her other hand trailed down your body, caressing and exploring every inch of your skin. The combination of her skilled touch and the intense pleasure coursing through your body made it difficult to think or focus on anything else. 

Her hand continued its exploration, gliding over your skin with a feather-light touch. Every brush of her fingertips, each flick of her tongue against you sent your arousal to new heights. Your senses were completely consumed by her, the world around you fading once again into a distant blur.

Completely at Wanda's mercy, you found yourself basking in her every touch and caress. The pleasure she was bestowing upon you was the best high you had ever felt, addictive and irresistible. Your mind was filled with a primal need, a craving for more of the pleasure that only she could provide.

Wanda switched breasts, moving to lavish attention on the other one ensuring it didn't feel neglected. Her hand continued to tease your flesh, raising goosebumps to form on your skin. 

Unable to sit still, your own hands came up to tangle themselves in the redhead’s hair. Head held firmly in place by you, Wanda's hand slid lower, exploring the wetness that had pooled between your thighs. Svelte fingers teased your entrance, and you gasped as the anticipation nearly undid you.  Back arched, begging for more, you whispered a “please!”

Helpless to deny your plea, Wanda's fingers dipped inside you, your slick allowing them to slide in with ease. You moaned lowly as she began to move her fingers in a slow, deliberate rhythm, curling and stroking against your most sensitive spots. The pleasure built within you, radiating through your body like an electric current.

Your hands tightened in her hair, pulling her closer to you as your hips instinctively rocked against her hand, seeking deeper pleasure. Wanda matched your movements, her pace increasing, driving you closer to the edge. Her lips found yours once again, swallowing your moans as the pleasure consumed you.

The room was filled with the sound of your shared breaths, the wet, almost obscene sound of her fingers moving inside you, and the symphony of your pleasure. Each stroke of her fingers sent you spiraling further into this rapturous euphoria, your body trembling with desire.

Lost in the carnality of the moment, you could feel the heat building within you, the pressure mounting until you were teetering on the edge. Sensing your imminent release, Wanda's fingers quickened their pace, driving you towards oblivion. Moans growing louder, they mingled with the sound of your ragged breaths.

“Are you gonna come for me baby?” She asked, voice dripping sweetly with lust, not letting up the pace even a little. The woman knew what she was doing to you, and couldn’t resist drawing it out just a bit. 

Beneath her, you squirmed and bucked in place, desperation eeking off you in waves. You hadn’t exactly had many partners to begin with, and you had certainly never been especially vocal with any of them. Wanda couldn't have you being all shy on her now though. She wanted to hear each and every sound she could possibly draw out of you as proof of how good she was making you feel, her fingers hitting that special spot deep inside of you that had always been just out of your own reach.

“Now dorogaya, use your words. Are you going to be a good girl and come for me? If you can’t answer me then I guess I should stop.” Wanda slowed her pace and you all but wailed your frustration.

“Yes, yes I’m going to come. I’m so close, Wands, please don’t stop!”

Truthfully that should have been enough for her but sadistically she wanted to push your boundaries further still. She smirked at your pleas. 

“I won’t stop, Y/N, but you can’t come until I give you permission.”

You didn’t think you had ever been on such a precipice of euphoria before. It was right there if only Wanda would let you. Part of you wanted to ignore what she said and let yourself go, but the part of you that yearned to be good for her won out in the end. 

You begged pitifully. “Please Wanda, please let me come! I’ll be your good girl, please, just let me come!” You would say anything the woman wanted as long as she would let you finally finish.

It was positively sinful how your submission made Wanda feel. She wanted to experience you like this every day for the rest of your lives. The tremor of your voice as you begged, how quickly and completely you accepted her commands, it was positively sublime.

“Well when you beg so prettily for me, how can I resist? Be a good girl, Y/N - come for me.” Her fingers curled deliciously, mercilessly hitting your new favorite spot. 

With Wanda’s permission, the world shattered around you as your orgasm crashed over. Your body convulsed with exquisite hedonism, every nerve ending alive with sensation. Wanda's name were the only words from your mouth as you rode the high, your orgasm careening over you in a tidal wave of pleasure.

For Wanda, feeling your wet heat tighten around her fingers, practically refusing to allow her to pull back to even help you through your peak, was so perfect. You didn’t know it, but it was enough to make Wanda topple over the edge alongside you, her head dropping to the crook of your neck while she whispered sweet nothings in your ear, struggling to bring you gently down from your high. 

As the aftershocks of your release subsided, Wanda gently withdrew her fingers, her touch lingering for a moment before she pressed a soft kiss to your lips. She held you close, her presence a comforting anchor as you came down from the heights of pleasure. You whimpered at the feeling of emptiness after being so joyously full.

Breathless and sated, you nestled into her embrace, feeling a profound sense of contentment and connection. And as you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt that this was just the beginning of something beautiful between you both. You had made the decision to trust Wanda with your body, heart, and soul, and in this moment, everything felt so right.

Wanting to return the favor, and make Wanda feel as good as you did, but as you tried to shift in her embrace, the former avenger simply held you tighter. Feeling rejected, you wilted in her arms. Perhaps you had already failed to live up to her expectations, so much so that she didn’t even want you to touch her. How heartbreaking to have failed so soon, to never get the chance to prove yourself.

Voice soft, Wanda alleviates your fears. “Not tonight, darling. Tonight was all about you. Rest with me for a little while, detka, I just want to hold you. May I do that, Y/N?”

Murmuring a quiet assent, you settled into the comfort Wanda provided. You both laid there, basking in the intimacy you both had just shared, feeling content and happy. It wasn’t long until your eyes began to droop, signifying you were about to nod off.

Sensing how close you were to sleep, the witch gently roused you. She giggled at your grumblings for the disruption but insisted you both needed to clean up. Shaking your head, you whined as you tried to hold her in place with you, unwilling to let her go for any reason. Wanda  had to actively restrain herself from cooing at your adorable stubbornness.

“Come on now, it’ll be just a few minutes and then we can go back to sleep, okay darling?”

Petulantly you shook your head, and Wanda full on belly laughed, holding you tightly to her while she did so. Her laughter was infectious, and you couldn’t help but chuckle as well, knowing you were being a bit ridiculous.

Eventually, both of you calmed down, and Wanda pulled away from your embrace, mentioning that she would be right back. You let her go, but you pouted the entire time she was in the bathroom. After a few moments, you could hear the sink running, and then the witch returned to you with a warm, damp washcloth in her hand. With an unprecedented level of care, Wanda cleaned between your legs, removing any trace of the night's activities, while being mindful not to overstimulate you.

“There we go, detka. All clean. Let me just throw this in the sink, and we can go to sleep.”

Doing exactly as she had said, Wanda quickly returned, swiftly maneuvering her way into the cozy bed beside you. With a few gentle movements, she skillfully arranged the soft sheets to envelop both of you, creating a warm and comfortable cocoon.

Once she was finished setting up the sheets, you wasted no time in crawling back into her arms, burying your face into the divot where her neck and shoulder met. You felt like you had been through the wringer, but in the best way. When she had gotten up to clean you both, with her no longer being in your arms, your emotions had run all over the place. Now all you wanted was to be as physically close to the redhead as possible, to reassure yourself that she wasn’t abandoning you after such a vulnerable act.

Wanda was not at all opposed. Quite thrilled in fact, and as she held you, one hand came to gingerly trace random shapes along the side of your face, whispering nonsensical words of love and solace. Pillowy lips placed a soft kiss to your forehead.

As you drifted off to sleep, feeling safer and happier than in your entire life, you heard Wanda whisper in her native tongue. You were curious, but too far gone to ask her what she meant.

“я так люблю тебя, дорогая. (I love you so much, darling.) I promise I will always keep you safe, and I will never let you go.”

A/N 2: ... Why do I have a higher word count for a chapter with smut than any other chapter? .... Reasons. We're going with "reasons". So uhhh... yay? nay? Yeet myself off a cliff? Also if anyone wants to be added to the taglist just lemme know in the comments.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

[euphoniumpets]

Always noticed you | Nikolai Lantsov x Starkov! reader x Kaz Brekker | PART TWO

Summary: after running away from Nikolai, the crows got a message to find you and not long after, you got to meet dirtyhands where they convince you later to help them and find the sword from the neshyenyer while kaz brekker is not trying to fall for you.

Warnings: violence and angst, mention of Kaz's ptsd and phobia.

A/N: here's part two and part one can you read it here!

Not long after the crows recieved the message from the prince and the Sun Summoner of finding you, the crows didn't waste a second to begin their search. However, Kaz had not the slightest idea of finding you for the first time in his life, but to their luck, he found you.

Nikolai had begged them to find you, knowing that if people knew that the Sun Summoner's sister was outside far from the grand palace and out or reach from their protection, he didn't want to think that would happen if you were in danger because of him.

Tolya and Tamar had offered to go and find the crows while looking for you and the sword of neshyenyer.

After packing your things in the spinning wheel and then leaving off without leaving a note, you found yourself in Shu Han. You knew that your mother was from Shu Han however, you got a little information from your parents when you were younger. You didn't knew about much of your past ever since you and Alina was sent to the orphange.

Shu Han was a beautiful place. A place filled with color and different food that you enjoyed during your time. It was at that point you realized that you missed venturing out the unknown while you tried to survive for your sister.

You knew that if you wasn't there, you wouldn't bothering them and the people wouldn't know that you are the Sun Summoner's sister, but you were wrong.

After strolling in the market, you found yourself running from your life after hearing that they wanted you to get through the Sun Summoner and the prince.

You were panting hard, trying to dodge the crowd at the market while not trying to bump into their stuff while trying to find a way out. You didn't know where to go next and you were terrified.

The next thing you knew, you were in a dead end. You sighed before turning around slowly and saw the men surrounding you. You, however, raised your fist and prepared for a fight as you tried to remembered the leassons that Zoya gave you back at the little palace.

However, a knife was suddenly thrown behind their backs and you saw some of them collapsing to their knees and to the ground. You furrowed your brows when you saw a familiar face approaching and knocked the man out with his cane.

''Huh, on point, actually,'' You breathed out and gestured toward the men.

Kaz only gave you an amusing expression as he always did. ''Did you really expect us to be that low?''

''You are gangsters and from what I recall the last time we met each other, you are the brains for the crows and the one who kidnapped me and my sister,'' You remarked as Inej, Jesper, and two familiar faces appeared but you didn't knew the second female next to them. You assumed that she was also a heartrender because she took down one of the men. You ignored how Kaz rolled his eyes toward your remark.

''Nice throw,'' You commented to Inej, making her smile at you before you. Upon noticing, the gang surrounded you in the dead end, making you thinking that they were there to bring you back to the spinning wheel.

''Great, here to kidnap me again?'' You asked and turned to Kaz. ''They want you back, I'm only here to do the job,'' Kaz responded, making you sigh. Of course, you had expected that Nikolai would beg the crows to bring you back to the spinning wheel before the general found you.

You knew that you could take care of yourself and weren't to let him take you back. ''Then, good luck of catching me again,'' You spoke, turning on your heel before Kaz placed his cane in front of you to stop you.

''I wouldn't do that if I were you,'' Zoya announced herself, making you roll your eyes at her.

''Wait,'' You heard his response and you turned to look at him. ''If you're not going back, then you're going with us,'' He responded and you looked at him with a frown. ''We're looking for the sword of neshyenyer, and we need your help,'' Inej spoke and you scoffed.

''With what? With my useless talent?'' You questioned.

''You're not useless, you are a map maker, aren't you?'' Kaz asked.

''I was,'' You corrected him. ''Then you know the story behind it and the information we could gather,'' Kaz replied.

''So, are you in?'' You heard Jesper asking you, making you sigh heavily and drop your shoulders in defeat.

''Yes,'' You replied and rolled your eyes as Kaz smirked slighty and dropped his cane.

-

Kaz Brekker was not the one who believed in saints of love. No saint was ever there for him during the fire pox and when Jordie died and he stopped believed in love at the moment when he fell for Inej.

Falling in love was a dangerous to him and if people knew (more like his enemies) his weakest spot, his work would be destroyed. He had tried to build something ever since Kaz Brekker was born since Kaz Rietveld wasn't capable of doing it.

When he met you, it was an odd time. He had seen you, even when Alina was put out first and he noticed that you were always in the background when no one else noticed. He noticed the smallest thing when he first saw you back at the little palace when they announced the Sun Summoner existed.

After all, to him, you were easier to read.

He saw something back there in your eyes, the longing love for the general, the sneaky glances between you went unnoticed by everyone, everyone except for him. The pain in your eyes could be seen by him and he knew at the moment you loved the general, but the general had already chosen your sister.

He could somewhat relate because your story was the same as he had with Inej. The longing of someone was crawling deep inside of him but when he confessed his love for her, Inej didn't felt the same.

The guilt of oversharing his feelings for someone that didn't share the same suffocated him and it took months for him to get over it.

That was the last time when he saw you after seperating through the Fold. He had asked you to come with them back to Ketterdam, but you said to him maybe another time when times were calmer and when Alina had taken the Fold, then maybe, you would be there with him.

And when he had gotten the note from the prince to find you, he couldn't help but to feel excitment to see you again after being seperated for months.

To him, you weren't useless. He saw something in you that many didn't see clearly. You were intelligent and knowing the routes of the maps was making it easier to them to find the sword of Neshyenyer.

All of you headed back to a cafe in the market as Kaz had informed the plan. ''The Neshyenyer? Sankta Neyar's blade?'' Nina asked with disbelief on her face as she looked at the group.

You were also surprised by the news as soon Kaz had read the letter that Nikolai had sent him. You figured it out that Nikolai had also written to him that they would find you before anyone else did. ''So, you haven't forgotten what you were taught at the little palace,'' Zoya remarked and looked at Nina.

''Just your loyalty to Ravka,''

''Ravka? Or Kirigan? It didn't take him destroying a city for me to question my loyalty,'' Nina replied. ''So, now that we all know that you two have history,'' Jesper cut in and looked between them.

''What's the payment for this job?'' Jesper asked.

''Name your price,'' Tolya responded. ''It matters that much,''

''Obviously,'' You responded and rolled your eyes and crossed your arms above your chest. ''Is that the Lantsov crest?'' Wylan asked and looked at the letter that Nina held. ''You know because it's hideous,'' You remarked as Zoya looked at you with a deadpanned look.

''Prince Nikolai requested your services to bring back her,'' Tolya remarked and pointed at you. ''And to find the sword and deliver the sword to Alina Starkov in East Ravka,''

''She's returned?'' Nina asked.

''As has the Darkling,'' You spoke. ''With an indestructible army of shadow monsters,'' You informed them.

''Then what are you doing here instead to be with your sister?'' Nina asked you with a concerned expression.

''It's complicated,''

-

Not long after Zoya and Tolya tried to bargain their price to the Crows and they walked in seperated ways to prepare to find the sword. You trailed over your glass at the bar, lost in your thoughts as you didn't hear the footsteps from behind.

''I'm not going back, not after we have found the sword if that's what you're thinking,'' You spoke when you noticed Zoya stood next to you, signalling the bartender to give her the same drink as you had.

''If that's what you're thinking, you know I'm not going easy on you then,'' Zoya commented. ''Whatever happened between you and prince Nikolai, you need to let it go,'' Zoya responded.

''I know how hard it has been, but life's at are stake here,''

''You may think that I'm harsh, but face it, Y/N, he loved you, maybe he still does, but at one point, we all need to pick sides at the end,''

''I'm not taking anyone sides here,'' You argued. ''Then you have to at one point, this is war, get your head together,'' Zoya replied.

''You're right,'' You replied with a sulking expression as Zoya looked at you with wide eyes. ''Whatever happened between me and Nikolai, it's not worth it,'' You responded and turned to face her.

''So, you're over it?'' Zoya asked with an eyebrow raised.

''I know it's going to be hard, but i try not to care,'' You responded before she shrugged her shoulders and took the alcohol and held it up. You grabbed your glass and clinked it before you drank the alcohol burning in your throat.

Not far from the bar, Kaz had his eyes lingering on you from the distance as he promised to himself that he would try to be the better man but he can't do that when the demons inside of his head.

-

ngl struggled to write the last part but i hope you guys enjoyed of ''kaz'' version of y/n. might write a part three soon!

[drenched-in-sunlight]

Hi there! I wanted to say your art is absolutely incredible and always brings me back to Elden Ring when I forget just how amazing the game is. I live for your depictions of Marika.🥹

I was partly just curious after you posted the recent family tree, is there a reaspn Ranni and Radahn don't make as much of an appearance in your drawings? What is your thoughts on their questline/storyline in general?

Thanks for all the cool art, you're getting better with every piece!!

tbh... i think draw Ranni a lot, she's literally the cover of my first fromsoft fanbook 🥲🥲

though most of my art of her is from 2 years ago, i wouldn't say i don't draw her often at all 😭 i've drawn Radahn 4-5 times too. i understand because i draw too much, it's easy to have an impression that i draw some specific characters less, but compared to, say, the Omen Twins or Rykard or Melina (who i keep meaning to draw but haven't got around to do so yet), Radahn and Ranni are two Carian characters i draw the most of that side of the family (well, Rellana is looking to dethrone them soon but you get what i mean aksfkjdfkj)

Radahn dudebro fans keep pointing fingers saying i hate him but i actually like him. as a guyfailure that is so obsessed with these symbols of a Lord in his father and Godfrey, yet failed to live up to any of them (*stare at that scene of Morgott whooping his ass*). his involvement in the DLC is an interesting spin on things to me, and make a lot of sense in the grand scheme of things (when i saw that we found like... 11 Miquella's Lily in places most personal to Radahn like Carian Manor and Sellia. hoo boy).

lately, i lowkey think Radagon specifically picked him for Miquella and encouraged his obsession with being a Lord. to me at least Radagon is really bitter that Godfrey is the First Lord and not him (her actual other's half! sentenced to live away from her while another man got to be her first in everything! the injustice!), so him not only discrediting Godfrey's descendants (whole thing with Hunters of TWLiD) but also preparing a whole new pair of Lord and God that should have been how he and Marika could have been from the start sounds like the kind of overcompensation he'd be doing (look honey that could be us but you tripping).

so in a way i do feel for Radahan and Miquella falling victims to Radagon's list of issues (though it's only one reason in many other reasons for them to turn out that way ofc. Radagon merely nudges the pieces into certain direction, they go barreling head first down on their own). and i actually like that i could come up with all that thanks to the DLC. imo it actually adds a lot more to Radahn and Miquella's character (depends on how you view the story though whoops).

you can say i like him (and Miq) the way one likes AC6 Iguazu... or Genichiro. the kind of hater characters that are doomed to fail from the start, but they are stubborn and will run head first into the wall again and again. and it's fun to put them in a jar and shake them.

Ranni... after the DLC my feeling for her is a bit more complicated. before i get why she did all those things and i like her story enough, but after the DLC as you see i come to really like Godwyn and links him closely to Marika. so now it's kinda awkward for me to insert Ranni in all the scenarios im drawing lately?

it's not that i stop liking her, it's simply that the scenario doesn't line up for me to add her in that's all. and it goes to other characters i haven't drawn tbh. not because i don't like them, i simply don't have anything in my brain about them to draw out. i don't think there's any characters in Elden Ring i hate tbh (yes i do like even the Hornsents. i find the stories in the scorpion stew and dried flower talisman really somber and give them a lot of humanity too, fucked up rituals aside).

and thank you for your kind words! my editor has been on my ass for a whole year about my art and it does help me improve a lot, im glad to know it shows in the quality of my fanarts as well!

[miscfandomwrites]

A/N: This is from about two years ago, from my old account. I know this was requested by someone yet I don't have anything saved for a name besides 'anon' so. There's not much to this but figured I'd post it anyways.

Pairing: Avengers x Widow! Reader

Warnings: Flashbacks, food based and major trust issues, reader self-isolates from everyone, everyone is kinda mean, natasha and yelena nearly kill half the avengers, language, angst, fluff(ish) ending

Words: 1.4k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

Summary: Reader escaped the red room with more than just physical scars. At Fury’s request she joined the Avengers for ‘Rehabilitation’ back into society, which led to an awful prank played on her that caused her to lose all trust with them. She hasn’t met Natasha or Yelena yet as they’ve been away on a deep undercover mission..but once they return and learn what has been going on with the reader and the team, and what it’s making the reader relive through, all hell breaks loose.

~~ “It’s a cinnamon poptart, not the blueberry one, I swear by it.” Thor told me as I held the shiny silver package in my hands, debating on whether or not to open it. I was reminded back to last week, when Clint tried the same thing on me. I glanced back up at the god-and he was giving me the puppy dog eyes.

There was a history of the avengers giving me the wrong food. It started out as a joke that made me physically sick enough to the point where I couldn’t eat for almost a week because of it and turned into a joke for them. Well, it wasn’t a joke for me.

I sighed, glancing at the generic wrapper which didn’t tell me shit about what flavour it was. Looked back at Thor and his puppy dog eyes and decided that maybe it was worth a try.

Of course, when I tear open the package it’s the blueberry one. I stared at it for a good minute or so as Sam and Bucky started losing it at my deadpan facial expression, and I just dropped the poptart on the table and turned on my heel and walked away, trying not to remember what happened and blocking out my brain from trying to kill me again.

Steady walking turned into a fast-paced stride, which turned into a jog, then into a full on sprint. I had no idea where the hell I was going, I was too far into my head to tell beyond me descending the back staircase down several flights of stairs. I kept going down,

Down,

Down,

Until I hit a wall, and realized I was at the very bottom of the tower. I didn’t even know that there even was a bottom to the tower until now…and knowing already that it had almost two dozen floors, and the kitchen was almost at the direct top…

I must’ve ran down at least ten or maybe even fifteen flights…

My head was still spinning as I leaned against the wall, the sweat from my body making my clothes stick to me and my legs started to shake slightly. Being a supersoldier had its benefits when it came to fights and physical activity, but even then it had its limits.

My breathing came hard and fast, and I closed my eyes tightly as I turned around, pressing my back against the cold, solidness of the concrete wall and slid down until I could rest my arms on my knees and sucked in one breath, held it for seven seconds, then slowly breathed out through my mouth for ten. I kept repeating the pattern, six, seven, ten, until everything stopped spinning and I felt less light headed.

~

I don’t know how long I was down there, and only took my head off my arms to answer my phone’s consistent buzzing, alerting me to a call. I slid it from my pocking, wincing at the slight protest of my muscles and the phone screen that was still slightly slick from my sweat. I wiped it off on my pant leg and answered it, not bothering to check the contact info.

“Agent (L/N), please do inform me why you are not present at the meeting right now.” a deep voice which I recognized as Fury’s sounded through the speaker. Shit. Meeting. That must mean…

It was six in the evening-I’d left the kitchen around two-

I have been down here for four hours.

I quickly scrambled up, heading to the elevators and pushed the up button as I told Fury I’d be there in less then ten minutes and ended the call. The elevator shot up to my floor as I sniffed my shirt, smelling the sweat and slight mustyness of the basement on it. My body smelled physically fine, but my clothes reeked. Still need deodorant however.

Once on my floor I quickly threw off my clothes as I rushed into my room, grabbing some of the first clothes I saw and changing into them then heading to the bathroom to look semi-presentable. While sure, it probably wasn’t necessary for me to ‘freshen up’ I didn’t want any comments about my appearance or smell, better yet I didn’t want any mention of me and didn’t know why Fury was bothering me to join the avengers since I wasn’t a ‘main’ member.

I finished getting presentable and glanced at what I was wearing, a pair of grey faded jeans that I tucked a black tshirt into and had pulled on my olive green converse, and right before I left my bedroom I grabbed my green button up jacket and slid it on, hoping it’d pair better with the shoes. Thankfully I left my bow gloves on the small bookcase next to the elevator and decided to get those on a whim as I rushed into the elevator and told FRIDAY to take me to the meeting floor.

I pulled my hair up into a slightly messy bun and called it good, soothing any wrinkles and tucking in my shirt more and just fidgeting with my clothes in general.

The avengers, or at least the ones who I’ve seen since I started living in the tower-Thor, Sam, Bucky, Tony, Steve, Bruce, Peter, and a few others whose names I didn’t bother to remember, I did not trust at all. And that was putting it lightly. Ever since the incident when I first started living here-which was not my choice mind you, Fury told me to live here so here I am-I tried my best in avoiding them at all costs. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck one on one with any one of them…especially the males.

Natasha and her sister, Yelena, have been on a almost eight month mission and I haven’t met them yet, but there was one thing the three of us had in common: The red room.

Memories I’d rather not remember were thankfully interrupted by FRIDAY chiming at me and opening the door of the elevator, and I walked out into the conference / meeting room.

~

“Look what the cat dragged in, finally.” Tony stated as I walked to the meeting table, taking a seat at the end of it. I glanced around noticing two new faces-females, and from the red and yellow hair I guess Natasha and Yelena.

“Took you long enough.” Steve glared at me as I tried to remain indifferent.

I did notice both Yelena and Natasha stiffen when they saw me, and even more so when they saw my slight reaction to their comments. I didn’t bother introducing myself, figuring they probably damn remember who I was.

Of course, I had a different nickname in the room, but those days were long gone.

Fury nodded at me and explained what the two had dug up from their reconnaissance mission, explaining how there was a series of various drug cartels that had access to a substance that not only was highly illegal, but magical in nature.

I turned out during the last half of it, upon hearing Sam and Bucky having their heads together and snickering, occasionally glancing my way. At some point I heard whispers of what would happen if they caught me alone, and at that point I was done-black creeped on the edge of my vision as I rolled the chair back and I remembered that I hadn’t eaten in awhile. Suddenly a loud slam echoed through the room, caused by Natasha slamming her hand on the table, standing up.

“Will you two shut the fuck up before I decide to kill you?”

I stared in shock as she glared at Sam and Bucky, Yelena also standing with her, glaring and had a knife palmed in her hand already.

“You have no fucking idea what it was like for her, for us going through that room and all you’ve been doing is making her fucking miserable. I’ve been getting reports on what you two’ She turned and glanced around the entire team at this ‘on what everyone has been doing to her. You’re lucky I was too deep into the mission or I would’ve come here sooner.” She turned to Fury and he nodded at her, and then spoke up.

“Natasha and Yelena will be taking care of the black listed missions from now on, and they will be taking care of miss (L/N) as well. Upon their wishes, they are no longer a part of this team.”

Both the girls turned to me, Yelena sliding her knife away and Natasha holding out a hand to me.

“Come on, Серебряная Лиса, we’ve got you.”

We’ve got you.

(Silver fox)

[sloppysequinz]

Intox Bimbo Mansion - Allie's Rude Awakening

Another vignette about our beer worshiper, Allie. Not a direct sequel, so no need to feel like you need to catch up. In case you want to, you can read Allie’s intro above and Kari’s intro here.

tw: intox, belly play, bullying, piss/omorashi.

Allie slowly gained consciousness. Her head was spinning. As she became aware of her body, she realized she was cold...the floor under her was smooth and hard. She took a moment to process before realizing that she had passed out drunk and naked on the kitchen tile last night.

She struggled to push herself up onto her hands, her generous tits and beer belly slapping against the tile as she rolled around. She was definitely still drunk. A pale, clear light filled the kitchen, making the empty cans around her glow. It must be early. There was an upright beer near her head. She reached for it sloppily, crowing happily when she managed to catch ahold of it. It was at least half full!

"What do you think you're doing?"

Allie ignored the question in favor of chugging the half full can. Everything else could wait. When she finished, she burped and giggled and answered. "Dringin beer!"

The beer-bloated bimbo flopped onto her back so she could see who was interrogating her. Mary, her next door neighbor, stood above her, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. She was wearing a flowing pink satin robe and her hair was in rollers.

"Maaaaryyyy!!" Allie crooned. She tried to sit up and only succeeded in jiggling herself across the floor, which made her giggle more. "Wha's bringin my prettyyyy neighbor here shoooo early!"

Mary rubbed her forehead. "I haven't been brought anywhere, Allie." She sighed. "I guess I asked the wrong question. Why are you naked on the floor of my kitchen?"

"Uhm...'s'not my kichen?" Allie mumbled, casting her eyes around again. Once they managed to focus, she realized that this kitchen indeed was not hers. It was furnished with baking implements, as thought it were used to actually cook things and not just as a storage space for beer. She should probably feel bad, but she didn't. She was too busy feeling her pussy start to drip over the realization that she had crawled into her neighbors apartment blind drunk in the middle of the night and drunk everything in sight. "Uhm! Whoooopsh! Shorry~" she giggled.

"And you drank all my beer, though that's hardly surprising." Mary regarded Allie with mild disgust. "I wouldn't expect more from a dumbass like you."

"I said *hic* shorry..." Allie replied. Her hiccups had started. They made her gut slosh dangerously. Fuck, she needed to piss. She tried to focus. She should probably get on Mary's good side somehow, she would need help to get off this floor and back to her own apartment. She pushed herself up on her elbows to try and look at Mary directly. Her eyes weren't cooperating. "I'll, uhm, *hic*...replashe it?"

"If I sent you to get more, you'd drink it all before you ever got back here." Mary replied tersely. "We both know that."

"Uhm. Yeaaaaah....*hic*" Allie admitted. She knew that too. She was too trained to consume. She couldn't make it down the elevator and back up without a drink. Someone would find her passed out in the elevator later, all of Mary's "replacement" beers sloshing around her bloated gullet.

Mary approached and stood over Allie's prone form, one delicate pink slippered foot between her legs, the other next to her groaning beer gut. "You're pathetic." She told her neighbor, a grin spreading over her face. "I know what this place is about, but you are something else. I don't think you're living your own life. The beer is living it for you."

Allie whimpered. The half a beer she had chugged was swirling around her brain, making words hard. She wanted to ask Mary what was so bad about that, but it was taking forever to structure the sentence. Luckily, she was saved by the bell--or the beer.

"What's this?" Mary asked, suddenly noticing something on the counter. "I guess you didn't drink all my beer after all!" Allie heard the clatter of cans and instinctively whipped her head towards it. Mary had picked an untarnished six pack up off the counter. She looked at the cans and back to Allie a few times before, without warning, squatting down.

As her legs folded, the shin of the leg she had between Allie's legs pressed into Allie's cunt, belly, and bladder, making her squeal. "Shut up, you sound like a pig." Mary scolded. "You deserve this."

Allie's drunk brain was overwhelmed by sensation. Without meaning too, she began grinding against the sudden sensation of something being pressed against her aching pussy. It felt soooo goood.....

Mary snorted. "Disgusting bitch. I should've known you'd do that." She didn't take her leg away, watching idly as Allie's clumsy grinding shook her naked curves. Mary ran a hand over Allie's belly and tits, making Allie moan. "If you liked my beer that much, you should have some more." She set the six pack down on the ground beside Allie's head, popped the first can off, and opened it. "Open up, slut."

Allie obeyed and opened her mouth. Mary began to pour it in and Allie gulped desperately, grinding faster against Mary's satin clad leg. She downed the whole thing easily, adding to the fluid in her already overfull belly. The tightness was as intoxicating as the alcohol.

"You really are just a whore, aren't you?" Mary asked idly, popping the second can off the pack. Allie whimpered and nodded. She continued. "There's easy, and then there's you." Mary opened the can and held it over Allie's face expectantly. "I didn't tell you to close your mouth, did I?"

Allie opened her mouth back up and Mary dumped the second beer in, faster this time. Allie struggled to breathe. The first can had gone down easy, but this one made her frighteningly aware of how full her stomach and bladder were. The fear made her pussy wetter, but she was too drunk to know if she was close to her limits. Mary popped the third can off the pack. The noise made Allie's pussy twitch and she groaned.

"Mary I...*hic* thing I'b hadda *hic* 'nough...." Allie slurred. The sensations were too much to take. She could feel something building inside her, but she didn't know if it was good or bad.

"Enough? Don't be a stupid bitch." Mary replied coldly, opening the third can. "For one thing, I've seen you in action. There's no such thing as enough for you. For another thing," she reached forward with her free hand as she spoke, forcing Allie's slack and drunken mouth open with her fingers so she could pour the third can down her throat before continuing. "You don't get to say 'enough'. Today we are learning the lesson of 'Finish what you start'. It's my beer. If you're gonna drink all of it, you'll drink all of it."

Allie groaned and clumsily grabbed her bare tits. Mary let out a bark of laughter. "See, cunt? You're nowhere near 'enough'."

"Buh...*hic* Mawy...." Allie whined, protesting even as she groped her tits and ground against Mary's leg. "I, uhm...*hic*...I godda piss...."

"I don't care. You'll leave when you're done. And if you piss on my floor, I'm going to make it your problem." Mary replied. Allie could only groan. She pulled the fourth can off the pack and paused, grinning sadistically.

"Say, Allie," Mary asked, sliding the cool can down Allie's belly towards where she helplessly humped her sober neighbor's leg. "What's the thickest cock you've ever taken?"

"Wuh?" Allie responded. Three and a half beers after waking up drunk on someone else's kitchen floor hadn't improved her awareness. "Thigg?"

"Yeah, like, for example, have you ever fucked anything as thick as this?" Mary asked, brandishing the can at her. Her smile had only grown.

"Ughm...why?" Allie asked through her beer haze. "Uhm, *hic*, I dunno...."She couldn't remember. Most of the time she had been fucked by a cock, she'd been at least as drunk as this. The beer was always more important than the cock.

"Well, I guess from now on you'll be able to answer yes to that." Mary replied. She backed up slightly, pulling her leg away from Allie. Allie whined and tried to scoot across the floor to follow the sensation. Mary stopped her with a firm hand to the belly.

Mary took the can in her hand and slid it back and forth between the soaking folds of Allie's pussy. Allie threw her head back and mumbled incoherently. "Mawy...ssss*hic*....uh....wa....." Mary grinned and reached between Allie’s legs. She spread Allie's cunt open and thrust the can in. Allie bucked and squealed. Mary returned her shin to its position tight against Allie's cunt to seal the can in, leaning even harder on her bladder and belly. Allie began to hump against the can frantically. Mary laughed and watched.

"Whore. I bet you've fantasized about literally fucking beer. Maybe this isn't even the first time you've done this." Mary idly opened the fifth can as Allie wiggled in helpless drunken ecstasy. She slid her fingers into Allie's mouth to keep it open and started pouring more beer into her. "Swallow, slut." She commanded.

Allie did her best. Even in her state, she wanted the beer flowing into her mouth to fill her belly. The thick, cold hardness in her cunt made her desperate for more, more. The heat from where Mary's leg pressed into her bladder just made her clit feel hotter.

"Gross cunt." Mary commented as she finished the can. Allie couldn't disagree, but she didn't care. She felt disgusting and so, so horny. She was going to embarrass herself further in front of Mary, she just knew it. She made one last-ditch attempt to save face.

"Mar...*hic*....gonna pish...." she groaned. Mary just smiled and opened the sixth can.

"Open your mouth, whore." Allie obeyed, even without Mary's fingers in her mouth. She needed it too much. She needed her guts bloated, her brain melted, her cunt filled, fuck, she couldn't help what she was.

"Fucking disgusting." Mary remarked idly. As Allie gulped, she took her free hand and jabbed it into Allie's bladder, hard. Allie squealed and coughed up beer but Mary kept pouring so she kept drinking, her eyes rolling back into her head. Mary pressed and pressed and Allie humped the beer can in her cunt and as the can was finished, it all became too much. She came, hard, and Mary's hand on her bladder forced her to piss all over Mary's satin nightgown and kitchen floor and cute fuzzy slippers. The relief felt so good she almost came again.

Mary sniffed. "I don't know how yet, but this will be your problem." She pulled the can out of Allie's cunt and opened it. "Alright, slut, ready to prove how worthless you are? Ready to chug a beer coated in your own cum and piss?"

Allie moaned and opened her mouth. She was barely down from her first orgasm, but her cunt had throbbed again already at Mary's words. She couldn't believe herself, but the humiliation of pissing herself only made her needier. Mary poured and she swallowed until it was all gone.

When she was finished, Mary stood up. She stripped off her stained clothes and discarded them on the floor next to Allie. She walked away from the scene, remarking over her shoulder:

"I'm going to shower and call maintenance to clean this mess up. If I catch you in my kitchen again, expect worse."

Allie was fading out of consciousness again. Her belly full of beer weighed her down. She relished the sensation as her vision faded to blackness. She didn't know what Mary meant by worse, but she fully intended to find out.

[juyeonszn]

BLAH BLAH

PAIRING jacob bae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 2.17k

GENRES fluff ﹒suggestive

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DNI yk all that jazz, mature language, younghoon being stupid, one bed trope 🙀, jacob is shirtless….. that deserves its own warning tbh, reader also is topless at one point but not for the same reason, reader is down bad for cobie, dry humping ig idk if it really counts but i’m including it anyway, this is kinda tame tbh but,,, the tension is there i swear!!

SUMMARY you swore you would never make any physical contact with jacob bae ever again to protect your heart. what the hell are you supposed to do now that you’re sharing a room?

MORE HELLO!!! she is finished 😼 finished her up in a day im impressed with myself ANNSNW ANYWAYS this is a request from my 100 followers event! thank u again moni (@zzoguri) bae i hope u enjoy this 🫶🫶 prompts used are: 10, 12, 13 <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs

You know, you weren’t entirely expecting yourself to fall for Jacob Bae.

To be fair, it was very hard not to. From his infectious smile, to his genuineness, he was honestly the complete package. Even before you became friends, it was difficult to not fawn over the guy. You would see him across campus every now and then, laughing along with his friends or something of that nature, and you always felt a tiny ping in your heart.

Then came Eric Sohn and Kim Sunwoo’s annual back to school pool party.

Naturally, parties were the bane of your existence. You could never fully enjoy yourself, what with the clusters of people in one house and the strong scents of both alcohol and weed. However, one of your gal pals managed to convince you to tag along just to say you’d been to one of the infamous parties.

That was your first mistake.

Two hours into your eventual demise, you found yourself swishing around the contents of your red solo cup on the backyard patio, your friends having long disappeared. You were bored out of your mind with no one to talk to and now a near empty drink. A creak of the wooden boards behind you had you spinning around so fast you almost got whiplash.

Jacob Bae gives you a smile, stifling a laugh when you almost spill the last couple sips of your beverage. He sits himself beside you, sighing in either content or relief— to this day you’re still not sure.

“Hi, I’m Jacob,” he extends a hand towards you. “I saw you sitting out here and thought I’d introduce myself.”

Just like they say in the movies, the moment your skin comes into contact with his, there’s sparks. It’s like a jolt of electricity is running along your arm through your nervous system, shocking your brain. From that moment on, you made it a personal mission to never touch him again, out of fear it would happen every single time and you might do something extremely stupid.

Now here you are, ten months later and still just as whipped as you were day one.

Your friends dragged you on a little road-trip just to get away for a bit at the start of the summer. You were nervous thanks to the fact that a wheel spinner decided roommates and you got stuck with Jacob. If anyone asked, you’d say you were pretty good at pretending like you weren’t hopelessly in love with your friend. You looked at him normally, rather than with the want to rip his clothes off and go at it like bunnies.

“Jacob and Y/N sitting in a tree K-I-S-S— ow!” Younghoon rubs his arm where you’d just smacked him, pouting at you. “That hurt, what the fuck?”

“That was the point, bozo.” You roll your eyes, watching Jacob swimming around in the hotel pool. You hug your knees to your chest, resting your chin on top of them. How could someone make something so simple look so attractive?

Tonight would be a true test of faith, the ultimate challenge of whether or not you could truly resist Jacob Bae’s charms. Even if you’d stayed in the same house or same general vicinity, you always managed to dodge sharing a room. There were the few occasions you slept over at his and Sangyeon’s shared apartment, along with everyone else in your friend group. They’d both offered up their rooms for whoever wanted to bunk with them for the night since there wasn’t much room on the couches. You always picked the couch.

But there were no separate rooms keeping you apart this time. There was no couch. Just two beds and a couple feet between them. Oh God. You would be changing in the same room. Jacob Bae would be naked within your reach.

You blink away the thoughts creeping up from the back of your mind. You couldn’t have that mindset sharing a room with him. Couldn’t that be classified as immoral? Disrespectful? Your brain had to stay pure or you might not survive this trip at all.

“Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?” Younghoon asks with an amused lilt to his voice. You give him a nasty side eye in return.

“I might as well have. I hope I keel over and die right now so I can join them.” You huff, your head bobbing up and down as you talk thanks to your knees under your chin.

Younghoon snorts, standing to shake his hair like a dog would after a bath. “You’ll be fine, dude. It’s not that serious honestly. Just think of this as, um, a team bonding exercise.”

“You’re a fucking clown.”

After about another hour of swimming, playing chicken, and other pool activities of that sort, the boys decide to call it a night. Thankfully so, because you had a long day of sightseeing ahead of you tomorrow. You gather your things and part ways for your respective rooms. Some were on different floors than others; you and Jacob’s for example was on the top floor. You don’t know why, but the guys were insistent on swimming first, prior to checking out your rooms.

You waddle behind him like a lost puppy, following him to the elevator. The whole ride up is silent save for the soft lo-fi beat playing over the speakers. Jacob is still very shirtless, a towel tossed over his shoulder haphazardly. What was its purpose? Couldn’t tell you since there were still droplets of water decorating his back.

Good Lord, you needed to stop staring at him, lest you wanted to go into cardiac arrest.

Your feet padding against the carpeted flooring of the hallway is the only thing you can hear all the way to your room. You even watch sheepishly as he pulls out the keycard and holds it to the sensor. It quickly flashes green and he pushes open the door.

You’re too preoccupied gawking at his back muscles again to notice he’s stopped in his tracks, causing you to bump into him. He laughs that melodic laugh of his before turning around to steady you. You give him a weak smile in apology.

And then you see why he paused so abruptly.

“Oh no, there’s only one bed, what will we do now?”

You sputter at how nonchalant he is about the situation. You glance back and forth from him to the bed and repeat, sweat forming on your palms. It was already going to be hard enough just sleeping in the same room, now you had to sleep in the same bed? You wouldn’t be surprised if you were found dead tomorrow morning.

“W-We can talk to someone at the front desk? Maybe we can get things sorted out and get a room with two beds instead?” You avoid eye contact.

“It’s too late for that. Besides, we did book these at the last minute, so they probably gave us whatever they had available.” He shrugs. His attitude is kind of pissing you off. How could he be so calm right now?

“Well— uh— um— maybe—“ Your words falter as you struggle to come up with a solution. Jacob’s lips quirk up in amusement.

“Maybe you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense.”

You make a sound similar to choking, your eyes widening as you process what the hell he just said. You keep blinking at him, mouth parted in astonishment? Shock? Surprise? Bewilderment? Did Jacob Bae really just say that to you?

When you don’t respond for a bit of time, he heads to the bathroom to presumably shower. You’re glued to your spot, unable to move or think. Your head felt like it was hollow, full of cotton. You had to be imagining that entire interaction. That was the only thing that made sense.

Even as the water in the bathroom floods your ears, you’re still dazed. You drag yourself to sit on the edge of the bed, holding the back of your hand to your forehead. You were going insane. That was the logical explanation. Your feelings for Jacob had been stuffed away for so long that you were starting to hallucinate.

Yeah, that’s what you were going with.

You were much too delusional to handle seeing him come out of the bathroom, so you decided to change while he was in there and get ready for bed. You wanted to face the other direction to curve any possible chance of driving yourself crazier. You pull off the oversized t-shirt you were wearing over your swimsuit and dig through your duffle bag for some fresh clothes. You were grateful that you didn’t let your friends peer pressure you into actually swimming, your desire to keep a healthy distance between you and Jacob overpowering wanting to join in on the fun.

As you go to untie your swim top, the squeaky hinges of the bathroom door have you tripping over your own two feet. You didn’t exactly have the best reflexes either, so you fail at catching the strings before they can fall completely. At this point, you’re frozen. You’re planted face first on the floor, topless, with the boy you’ve been thirsting over for months just feet away.

Okay, so perhaps you underestimated how long it took him to shower.

“Y/N, are you— woah—”

“No, don’t come any closer!”

Of course you’re too late and he does not heed your warning. Jacob squats next to you and you can just feel his presence. To everyone else, it’s calming. He’s the person most people go to when they have any qualms about life. He was the definition of the therapist friend. However, that was not the case right now.

His presence was intimidating and your heart was hammering in your rib cage. It was practically beating against the floor. It wouldn’t be beyond you if they heard it in the lobby. You refuse to glance over at him. This couldn’t be happening. It was seriously one unfortunate event after another.

There’s a ghost-like, feather light touch that trails the length of your bare back, sending a shiver down your spine. Just like the first time, it’s like you’d been statically charged. It was as if Jacob Bae himself created electricity. A sigh leaves Jacob’s lips. “Can you look at me, pretty?”

This was something torn straight from one of your wildest dreams. His words, his actions, even the situation you were in. A singular bed that you’re forced to share. This could very well just be the universe’s way of finally giving you a win. Divine intervention did exist, after all.

A peek at Jacob’s form shows you that he’s in nothing but a towel, and it leaves little to the imagination. You swallow thickly. Your lack of cooperation has his patience wearing thin, so he takes matters into his own hands, holding himself up with said hands on either side of your head and straddling your waist.

You can feel him through his towel and the flimsy material of your swim bottoms. He’s hard, pressing into your ass like he’s the one who’s needed to have you in such a visceral way the past ten months. His sculpted chest rests on your back as he leans down, his lips coming beside your ear.

“Tell me you want me, tell me you want me as bad as I want you.” He breathes.

It’s enough motivation to flip yourself over despite being nude from the waist up. You don’t even care anymore, caution thrown into the wind. Your infatuation with Jacob Bae was already concerning, but now it was dangerous. You were getting extremely close to crossing the line you told yourself you’d never cross. But he made it so easy.

Your eyes rake his figure, from his chiseled torso that was handcrafted by the Gods to the way he unabashedly keeps his lower half pinned to yours. You almost salivate at how good this feels. But it’s not enough. You need him in ways that could only be described as carnal. You release a shaky breath when he experimentally grinds his hips.

He leans into you one more time, lips hovering your own and noses brushing. Just a few more centimeters. That’s all that it would take for him to kiss you, but he doesn’t. He flickers his eyes to yours and then back down, wetting his lips as he does so.

“Your eyes are already saying yes, now I just need your mouth to tell me the same.”

You could’ve just spoken the words out loud, but instead you close the gap between you. Your mouths fit together perfectly, like a missing puzzle piece finally reuniting with its set. They glide in synchrony, your fingers coming up to tangle in his hair and run along the expanse of his toned back. He groans when your nails graze his skin. You both part to gasp for air, lips swollen.

“That works too.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[offbranddrpepsi]

Hi hi it's me again >:] ! Could I Request Reyna X reader, how would Reyna react whenever reader would just randomly say she's beautiful (in general any compliments), hug her or just give her a kiss even while they are in a meeting reader would just hold her hand or compliment her (sorry if anything didn't make sense my brain was lagging and I didn't want to reread this again) anyways there might be some more requests coming today for Reyna X reader

Absolutely! This falls into such a big HC i have for Reyna and its that she adores casual affection so i hope you enjoy.

Reyna is usually the one giving physical affection freely, kissing the tops of her cherished friends heads or tussling their hair. While not a stranger to being on the receiving in it still surprises her. Compliments surprise her less, however she is always flattered. She thanks you and tells you that you're too sweet, the smallest bit of pink on the edge of her cheeks. More specific comments pull more color to her face and occasionally make her laugh. She makes it very obvious how precious she thinks you are as you tell her sweet nothings and words of affection.

When you come up and just hug her or give her a kiss on the cheek she is surprised but reciprocates, usually returning what ever affection you gave. Occasionally she picks you up when you hug her and spins you around, nuzzling her self into your hair. Surprise kisses are met with a smile you can feel as she returns the kiss and typically a few placed on your face as well as a loving glance. During meets she likes to be focused, poised, the intimidating woman she is but she can't keep that up when you give her passing affection. Her face stays stoic as you rub your finger over the back of her hand, a squeeze in return acknowledging you and that she appreciates the gesture. A hug or kiss causes her stone carved expression to break, a small smile and look of love crossing her face as she softens, mumbling terms of affection at you before she returns to her usual demeanor. Other agents are both impressed and terrified at how just one touch from you manages to turn her into an entirely different person. From the vicious viper lurking and watching her brood to the softest of rabbits that would put an angora to shame, her hardened heart is soft for only two people with you being one of them.

[agendabymooner]

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (4)

Summary:  Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: Can you actually fall in love fast? or is Tilly just fortunate enough to catch Toto's attention and gain his respect and determination in span of a day? As of this point, she might as well host a slumber party as Daniel and Lewis continue to pester her with the most important topics of her life right now: her family and the hypothetical ones she'd make with Toto.

Content warning: Age gap, brief use of explicit language, discusses the 2014 austrian gp, flirtatious banter, mutual pining kind of romance, platonic relationship with Lewis Hamilton and Daniel Ricciardo, fictional family and business involved (Hearth family and Hearth Automotives Group). NO PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS INVOLVED SORRY

Note: Thank you all so much for the 50 followers! I honestly have been writing these just because I didn't have anything occupy my time and it's a good idea that I posted them up here. knowing that you're enjoying my brain's ideas, it fuels me even more into writing. As of this point I'm currently writing a spin-off for Rush and this series so keep an eye out, I suppose. I hope you all enjoyed today's race because I certainly did (Albon was way too fucking good this weekend, I shit you not). And I hope Alonso's 2nd place makes up for the Father's Day that I'll never get to spend with him. Enjoy xx

masterlist

iv. fast lane but not the race weekend kind

“Regards,

Tilly Marie F. Hearth…”

That should be okay, I tell myself silently as I put away my laptop. It’s only 6 pm, and I already wish to retire to my bed early. 

I can be doing a lot, but instead I’m moping inside my hotel room while I’m waiting for Lewis. Being on a paid vacation is nice; I don’t have to do anything and deal with people. But at the same time, I’m craving more tasks to occupy my time because truthfully, I do NOT want to be stuck in a hotel in Silverstone with nothing to do. I spent my early 20’s being away from people, but now I’m entering my early 30’s, I’m slowly thinking that I probably should’ve done more than attend festivals by myself or with my sisters.

None of the people I was around with earlier had looked my way until after they'd been told that I was working in communications and was a boss’ child. The staff from the other teams also did the same—but some of them knew who I was already and had already made themselves comfortable. Just how I wanted.

But then again, this is my first day. And Sunday would probably be my last considering that I’ll be back to my stuffy office the next week. 

I can take up the role as a consultant for communications. My father did offer me that role for Ferrari, Red Bull and McLaren—telling me that I can do so much more in Formula One than my no-good employers. 

Bunch of bullshit, I curse out. He wouldn’t let go of his legacy like that. 

I already told him about writing for magazines or simply writing in general, but he still placed these executive positions in front of me as if he knew I’d give in. Sad fact is that he actually is right; I’m close to giving up on my job. If The Devil Wears Prada didn’t warn me the first time, Lauren Weisberger should have at least taken both of my shoulders and shaken them. 

It didn’t hurt to think about balancing Formula One and journalism out. After all, it’s what I can do as a journalist—know enough about racing and engines and ensure that my knowledge is being shared through my writing and published works. 

I try my best to relax in my bed, lying flat on the mattress with my hands resting on my stomach. The silence is deafening and I can hear my steady breathing. My eyes are growing tired as they continue to look up at the ceiling of my room. 

For a moment, I debated whether or not I should come downstairs for dinner with Lewis. If there’s anything that I know about him, he takes his dear time to get ready—and I have an endless closet at home. That’s telling you a lot. 

A knock on my door makes me stand fast and rush to open it. Daniel Ricciardo stands there with a grin.

“Oh you,” I blurt out.

Displeased with my response, Daniel cries out, “I’m not terrible all the time, Tils.” 

“Sorry,” I shake my head as I correct myself, “I meant that I thought you were Lewis.”

“He phoned me and said we should head down instead of waiting for him,” he shrugs as he sticks his arm out and offers, “let’s go?” 

I nod and head to where my flats are, slipping them on with ease as I grab my keycard and wallet. 

Daniel only pulled his arm back when I wrapped my arm around it. We descend to the ground floor where the restaurant is located. 

A host takes us to a four table seat at a corner. Seeing familiar faces from the venue, I nod at them as a greeting before I find myself sitting across Daniel. 

Soon enough, Lewis arrives and we begin to talk about today’s events. Forty five minutes had passed, and we found ourselves conversing in front of our already empty plates. 

Daniel asks about my family and all I can tell him has something to do with my mother’s side of the family. I guess out of the wealthy people in my family, I can understand my mother’s connections to the automobile industry. My toxic trait is that I despise my father but love my mother.

The difference is that my mother loves us more than anything and cares for our half-sister more than he does. 

But it seems Daniel has focused on a different matter.

“Your mother is— you’re a Ford, Tils,” his eyes widen like an owl as his mouth gapes open. I can practically see a fly entering his mouth. 

“My mum is,” I laugh, looking at Lewis as he, too, laughs at Daniel’s shocked expression. 

“Mate, she’s a Ford,” Daniel reaches out to nudge at Lewis and gestures at me. “You carry that information around just like that?” 

“She’s not really putting it out there for everyone to know,” Lewis chuckles, sipping on his water as he puts it down. “Besides, if you were really into racing you probably have heard about her dad or mum’s family one way or another.”

“I don’t really go digging for information about old money families,” Daniel rolls his eyes as he looks at me again, “you don’t look like you’re happy to be here. For someone who came from families who are into cars.”

“My father insisted on having me work for his teams,” I tell him, “I’m not exactly the brightest for motorsport. I prefer the media more than what my father wishes me to pursue.”

“Have you raced before?” 

“I had a karting career at some point,” I shrug, “or at least I started at the age 4. Mum didn’t agree with it and I should’ve started at 7, but my father insisted. I was already competing by 7. My sisters were too, but some preferred equestrian over racing.”

“If my dad was a twat, I’d stop it just to spite him too,” Daniel says as I raise my brows at the statement. He then corrects himself, “What I mean is I’d pursue the karting career for me, not for him.”

“Gotcha.”

Lewis pipes up, “Blanche is a pretty decent woman. You should see her, mate.” He turns to look at me and asks, “Is she coming this weekend?” 

“With Aimee and Sylvie,” I nod in confirmation, “I’m not quite sure about Stevie yet but she wouldn’t want to miss out on your home race.” Not elaborating any further, I return to the topic, “My father is absolutely baffled when I quit karting but he can’t do much because Poppy, my mum’s dad, was still alive. So between him and Poppy, he chose not to interfere.” 

“But you’re still here on behalf of your father though,” Daniel points out.

“It’s to secure my position and family’s future,” I tell him with a sigh. I look at him then back at Lewis before I say, “Whether I like it or not, I still need to do my part regardless of how much I hate the surname. It’s an obligation that I can’t avoid but it’s alright. It’s not just for me— it’s for my sisters and my future children.” Wow, I’ve only been friends with Daniel for a month and I’m already airing out my dirty laundry to him. Is this what happens when your friends are your sisters and just Lewis?

“You’re taking your elder sister role way too seriously. You can’t even catch a break,” Daniel says incredulously. 

I can only nod as I agree; my mother’s capable enough of worrying about them and I should just be doing whatever I want. She cares for my sisters as much as I do but being cut off from my father’s side of the family isn’t something that I’d allow. 

It’s not as if my sisters don’t want to join me at the trackside; they want to keep an eye on one of each team in fact. They want to be able to know what kind of thing our father brags about. But much like me, they don’t want to be on the track itself—they’re better off being models because that's what they wanted to be. They’ll join me soon enough, they just need to make a career out of modelling and come to work for the driving teams whenever they’re ready. 

“They’ll be in a lot of magazines soon enough,” I shrug nonchalantly. “I’d like them to do that first unless they feel like carrying a headache coming from either Brown or Horner.”

“There are three of them,” Lewis chuckles, “if anything, those three would outnumber your team principals. With you alone I got scared, could you imagine Sylvie? She’s feisty.” 

“It’s not just to keep them sane,” I roll my eyes, my foot underneath the table kicking Lewis in the leg. The table shakes lightly. “I just started working in this kind of industry. What kind of a big sister would I be if I’m just as clueless? I need to know more, especially if I want to be able to teach my potential kids about it.”

Lewis, the piece of shit, decides that this is the right time to joke about it and say, “I didn’t know you’re already thinking about a future with my boss, Tilly.” 

I snap my head to Lewis’ direction too much that I’m thinking I just got a whiplash. My glare hardens when Danny and Lewis’ faces turn red from laughing too much. 

“You ought to quiet down, boys,” I hiss, not wanting to look at the people who are giving us the unnecessary attention being gathered by their laughter.

“You have to admit,” Lewis breathes deeply to refrain from laughing again, “you two got along well. Was it because of Dubai?” 

“I told you that in confidence,” reaching down in his thigh, I pinch it as he whines quietly. He slaps my hand away as I say, “You’re a shit secret keeper.”

“Wai— what about Dubai?” Daniel, clearly not understanding what’s going on, asks as he looks at me while he expects a context. 

I muttered to him, “Met Toto Wolff in 2006. Spoke to him and all that.” 

Lewis nearly cries in laughter as he speaks, “She told me about it years ago. She never knew his name–or she refused to tell me who. She said he was attractive alright but—ow, stop it, Tils.”

I pull myself away from Lewis and sit back straight on my seat as I claim, “He doesn’t remember nor think of me like that, Lew. He’s just a silly crush.” 

“Is he?” 

“He was,” I correct him even if I’m wrong. It’s like Toto Wolff got an on-and-off button in my life. One moment he’s there making me blush the next thing he’s already gone. 

“You’ve been single for as long as I know,” Lewis huffs out, “why don’t you try dating again anyways?”

“With your boss?” I raise a brow, “Are you that obtuse?”

“What? He isn’t bad,” Lewis shrugs, returning to his usual composure as he crosses his arms, “the opportunity’s right there. Why are you adamant on not taking it?”

“Because she doesn’t want to get on Christian’s bad side for fraternizing with the enemy,” Daniel jokes. 

“I’m gonna kill you, Daniel,” I threaten him emptily, making him giggle again. 

“I’m repeating what you said!” He cries out, still laughing as he laughs obnoxiously. Men! Seriously.

“He’s quite interested you know,” Lewis states, his arms now crossing as he leaned against his seat. “He’s playing 20 questions with me whenever you leave. I’m not sure if he’s interested in me winning or you.” 

“He’s not interested like that,” I insist, “I’m sure he means well because I just popped up all of the sudden today. Nobody likes to step on the wrong foot of a newcomer. You’ll just make an enemy.”

“Yeah, sure,” Daniel scoffs haughtily, “the guy who’s been asking Christian questions about you left and right— the same person who doesn’t like Christian— isn’t interested.” 

“I haven’t been in a relationship with anyone since 2004,” I scowl, trying to keep my voice quiet as I say, “What makes you think I’ll be able to have an interesting relationship with him?” 

“He isn’t subtle about wanting to spend time with you,” Lewis answers, “what did he say again? You’re welcome to be in our paddock anytime? Does that ring a bell?”

Of course I do, I almost huff out, it’s one of the things that I intend to do. Be able to spend enough time admiring his team…

“I know men,” Daniel adds, “and with the way of how he’s looking down at you during the interview? With the heart eyes making contact with another pair of heart eyes? Yeah, that man is in loooove~”

“Like it’s a fast lane.”

Now I can’t deny it. 

I like being around Toto Wolff, more than anything. Speaking to him is like a breath of fresh air after stepping out of a cigar lounge. He’s a gentleman; I’ve always wondered how he’s not married. Women deserve him. Yet he’s here, being the most eligible bachelor in the grid following Fernando Alonso. God, I will snatch him up if I can even meet his level. I doubt he likes his women like me… trashy trying to be classy.

But it turns out, my cynicism is unnecessary. I find myself thinking a lot about the things that could be. In an empty elevator, I wait as it slowly closes. But the call from outside forces me to keep the door open until the person catches up. 

The man makes it inside as he stands tall, trying to catch his breath. There’s no way in hell—

“Tilly,” oh my god. I’m seeing too much of him today. 

I turn to my left as I dumbly ask, “Bonjour, what floor?” 

Toto looks at me with confusion in his face, probably wondering if I’m playing stupid or just stupid in general as he looks past me and says, “You’ve got it.” 

Wow, not only am I seeing too much of him, I’m also on the same floor as him. 

I nod and look back at the front, I can see him through the reflection from the doors. His polo remains unbuttoned and his hair unruly after running his fingers through it. I can see traces of sweat dripping down his forehead. I probably shouldn’t do a physical examination on him.

I look at him and ask politely, “Have you had dinner yet?” It’s a polite thing to ask, right? Like I’m not coming off as desperate to speak to him?

“Ah,” he keeps his mouth shut for a second and answers, “it is something to take up in my room, unfortunately.”

“Is it?” I ask out of curiosity, “You could have joined others for dinner?” 

“Busy, as always,” he smiles sadly, “it’s an endless battle.”

“Quite a shame,” I tell him with a shake of my head. “Do people know time zones or just business hours or is it just something written on papers?” I ask no one in particular.

“My brain doesn’t shut off the moment 7 pm hits,” he tells me with a rueful smile. “It calls for work all the time. So, no. I don’t follow my own business hours policy.” God, I feel sorry for him. 

“It’s like a wire, Toto,” I nibble on my bottom lip, not knowing how to express my empathy without looking like an arse, “you can’t plug it back in if you’ve something to prevent it from happening. Like a baby proof.” 

“You’re right,” he laughs. “What do you suggest I should do? The baby proof, I mean.”

I watch him as the door slides open, thanking him as he gestures for me to walk out of the lift first. Then my mouth does not stop speaking, “Have a dinner away from your work, for instance. Never hurts to isolate your work once in a while,” he laughs at that, “read a book? I love reading novels— I am currently skimming through Das Parfum. You can even time your break before going back to work because I can assure you that habit isn't good.” 

“Do you understand the German language?” He asks me. Mentioning Das Parfum clearly piqued his curiosity. 

It was smart of me to bring it up. When he told me earlier that he came from Austria, I knew I could talk to him in so many languages. Like I knew what I should say next. Like a mastermind.

I'm such a fucking mastermind.

My mouth quirks up and I answer, “Wir haben schließlich viele deutsche fahrer.” We have a lot of German drivers, after all.

He nods at me like he listens to everything I tell him. As if he’s following an order or he’s rather impressed with my pronunciations. Nice. 

Our conversation leads us in front of my hotel room. 

I look at him and gestures to the door, “This is my bat lair.”

“Bat lair?” He chuckles.

“My little humble abode,” I joke. “I can unfortunately hear my bed calling for me. I have to go.” 

“Right,” he nods as I open my door and step inside my room. Telling myself to get my shit together, I turn around to see him still waiting for me to head in. That was a surprise. 

I suggest, “One way to turn your stressful work day around would be breakfast. If you’d like, you can have one with me tomorrow?” 

“Are you asking me on a breakfast date?” He teases, watching me fall apart with my face flushing red. He stops eventually and answers, “I would be more than happy to accompany you before we head out.” 

“Okay good,” I laugh nervously, “I’ve no one else with me anyways so there’s that… does seven sound okay?” 

“You can ask me for anything I think I’ll say yes, liebling,” boom. There goes my heart once more. He grins gleefully as he says, “I know a place nearby. Would you like me to pick you up tomorrow?” 

“As far as I know I’m the one who asked you first,” I roll my eyes in a joking manner, smile escaping my lips. 

“I’d love to have you pick me up but I know the place,” he tells me with a shrug. “Besides, it’s by the tracks. We can head down there together before they start piling up for the day.” 

Not wanting to fluster myself anymore, I nod almost eagerly and he exclaims, “I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Have a good night, bello. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, schatz. Sweet dreams.”

Oh I really am going to have the sweetest dreams ever. Trust me.