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sturnlsstuff · 1 month ago

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MASK ON | ghostface!matt x fem!reader

— warnings: smut, dom!matt, sub!reader, cursing, knife play, choking, creampie, unprotected p in v, pet names, dirty talking, masturbation, mentions of murder, mdni

— a/n: matt is a bit crazy in this, it might be a lot so if u don't like, don't read xoxo

part two / part three

~~~~

saying that matt was obsessed was an understatement. he was going feral for you. losing his mind. every guy you talked to was found dead not even twenty four hours after your last interaction with him. it was making you think that maybe you have some kind of curse on you, but it was impossible... right?

matt was having his eye on you for a while now. but it was different. at first when he caught you at some party, he thought you will be his next victim. you guys talked, you thought he was funny and good looking. his tattoos caught your attention, you couldn't take your eyes of his arm. that's when matt's plans changed. he couldn't kill you, because he needed you. he craved you, wanted to put his hands all over your body, wanted to make you scream but from pleasure. but he was too anxious to start whatever, he didn't even know how. and you were so confident...

because matt was only shy without his mask on.

since this first and last interaction you both had, he started gaining informations about you. everytime your parents were at work and you were at school, he was in your room. he made a key to your house, allowing himself to come and go whenever he wanted. he stayed in your room for several hours, already knowing its layout by heart. he went through your drawers, smelled your sheets, stole your pretty lace underwear. but he also did something else. he installed a camera in your bathroom and in your room, to facilitate access to you. so every time you showered, every time you changed - he saw it. and he jerked off to the view, whimpering your name, with your panties wrapped around his dick.

he couldn't take it no more. his sick fantasies weren't enough.

he found himself in his car, parked down the road in your neighborhood. his phone in his hand as he kept watching you through the cameras. you were taking a shower, the water running down your perfect body. he couldn't stop staring at your beautiful curves, the way you soaped your skin, your wet hair sticking to your back... he wanted to be there with you, to press you against the wall and fuck you relentless, watching the pleasure forming on your face, listening to your sweet pretty sounds-

he was quick to pull out his painfully hard dick from his black jeans and start moving his hand up and down his length. having the perfect view on your tits, he kept imagining being there with you, being able to move his tongue around your nipples... he whimpers, thrusting into his fist, his dick pulsing desperately for some relief that he couldn't achieve. he was already struggling to cum, but it got worse when you got out of the shower and covered yourself with a towel, cutting off his view of your body. he groaned, stopping his movements and pulling his boxers and pants up. he was now on a mission. he had enough of just watching you.

leaving his car, he quickly made his way to your house and into the garden, hiding between the bushes. it was dark and he was dressed all black, so no one could spot him. he also knew that your parents were not at home. leaving you alone even though there is a crazy masked killer lurking nearby, looking for innocent girls like you? a bit stupid, he thought.

after putting on his ghostface mask and using a voice changer, he calls your number, waiting impatiently for you to answer. meanwhile you were in your room, still only covered by the towel and searching for some clean pajamas as you heard the phone buzzing. seeing the unknown number on the screen, you didn't think much of it and picked up.

"hello?"

"what's your favorite scary movie?" you hear a low, hoarse voice on the other end of the phone. frowning, you look at the screen of your phone before putting it to your ear again, thinking that someone is just making fun of you.

"what?"

"i asked... what's your favorite scary movie." the voice repeats, making you a bit confused.

"who's this?"

"that's not the answer for my question, sweetheart." the way he said 'sweetheart' makes you shiver. matt still hides in the bushes, watching you through the cameras on his other phone, seeing the confusion forming on your face and how you are still standing in your room just in a towel. this wasn't helping with his painfully hard cock that was straining against his jeans.

"uhmmm, i don't really watch scary movies..." you say unsure what to answer.

"yeah? then what do you watch?"

"i... i already answered your question so now you answer mine. who is this?" you ask again trying to sound confident even if the call was confusing you. was that one of your friends making fun of you?

matt lets out a low chuckle liking the attitude you're trying to put on. he knows he could make you change your act pretty quick. "isn't it a bit stupid? leaving you alone in the house when some psycho killer is nearby? maybe watching you? would be even a little unfortunate if he was talking to you right now, huh?"

your eyes widen and you look around as if you were going to find him. you understand the situation immediately. now you knew who you were talking to. it was him. and you felt your body rush through adrenaline. matt already was quietly unlocking your door downstairs to get inside. "what??? what do you want? please, leave me alone-"

"relax, sweetheart. i'm not gonna kill you. in fact you look too good right now to do anything to you other than making you moan while my cock is deep inside your pretty pussy."

"w-what??" you look around again as it could help you find him. processing his words, you frown your eyebrows, grabbing the top of the towel and pressing it tighter to your body. "how do you know how i look right now-"

"i know that you look incredibly hot in your pretty thin towel that isn't covering too much." matt smirks putting his second phone into his pocket and standing in front of the stairs. he didn't want to scare you too much, he needed to convince you to let him touch you.

panic starts filling you and you start looking around again. quickly walking to the closet, opening it, checking under the bed and in your bathroom. but he's nowhere to be found, obviously. "what do you want?!"

"i already told you sweetie. you aren't that dumb, are you? i just wished i could rip that towel off you... would you let me? hm?" as you hear his words, your eyes travel to the fabric covering your body, automatically pressing it against your chest. matt continues, "i'm not gonna hurt you, i promise. i just think you'd like this... i was watching you and i know what you watch when you touch yourself. naughty, aren't you? you like it rough and when the mask is on, huh?"

your eyes widen, your body shiver and neither of you says anything for a moment, your mind trying to process what you just heard. "you... what do you mean by saying..."

"yes, i watched you."

chewing on your bottom lip, you feel two things. panic and... something you definitely shouldn't feel right now. you actually liked watching home made porn when the guy had a mask on, while touching yourself. you knew it was fucked up, that you were fucked up and you had a lot of kinks that you would never tell anyone. but he knew. he watched you, took away your privacy. and something about this turns you on right now, making you more confused than ever.

"will you let me in, sweetheart?" you hear him ask and at the same time the stairs in the hall creak, indicating that someone was coming upstairs. but you were alone... right? matt knew your door were unlocked, he could easily get inside, but he needed to hear that you let him in. your body is literally frozen as you stand in the middle of the room, gripping the phone and looking at the door with wide eyes. heart pounding in your chest from the adrenaline and fear, yet the ache between your legs keeps growing when you think of every single thing he said. he was watching you, craved you and knew how fucked up your fantasies were because his were worse. "so? can i come in?" you see the door handle slowly turning, he was just outside the door to your room.

"y-yeah..." it slips out of your mouth faster than you can even realize. the call ends, you look at the screen confused, before your attention is turned towards the door which opens with a crack and a person dressed all in black, wearing a ghostface mask enters your room. he wasn't very tall, you checked him out, but couldn't notice much besides the knife he held in his hand. and that made your heart skip a beat and take a few steps back.

"oh c'mon, don't be shy now. you let me in, didn't you?" he speaks up, his voice a bit different than on the phone. it's almost like you recognize it, but you don't know from where. he slowly makes his way over to you but you continue backing away, with your heart pounding in your chest until you reach your bed, falling backwards onto the mattress, the towel loosens on your body, making matt smirk under the mask. he stops in front of your bed, looking down at you and tilting his head to the side a little. god, you were beautiful. he reaches his hand, running it slowly down your thigh, making you flinch a little. feeling your soft, smooth skin under his fingertips was like his dreams coming true. then with one quick movement he rips the towel off you, leaving you completely bare. you watch him with widen eyes, too stunned to speak because you're scared and that sends vibrations straight to your pussy. "what's the matter sweetie? you look like you've seen a ghost."

"i—" the words get stuck in your throat, even though you can't see his eyes, you can feel him looking at you. feeling it really intensely, not understanding how this situation can have such an effect on you, making goosebumps appear on your body, your pussy throbbing but at the same time the sight of the knife in his hand makes it slightly terrifying. "i... i j-just— what will you do...?"

a low, hoarse laugh leaves him, he places the non-sharp side of the knife between your tits and starts moving it downwards, but not in a way that will hurt you. looking at this with widen eyes, you can't believe how hot what he's doing is making you feel. matt was literally in heaven right now. seeing your terrified face but at the same time the lust in your eyes, the way your body reacted to his touch, it made him go crazy, his cock twitching in his jeans needing to feel you around him. needing to ruin you. "you've no idea how long i been wanting to do this...." he spreads your legs, a groan escapes him, seeing your pussy dripping with arosual, already ready for him. his fingers trace over your wet folds, spreading them open as he sees your pink dripping entrance and he inserts one finger inside you, the movement making you gasp silently and close your eyes for a moment. "...mmm, yeah.... so fuckin' pretty... wish i could taste you— fuckk, so wet f'me... and you didn't even see me— you're jus' a little slut, hm?"

he places the cold blade of that knife on your hard nipple, the feeling makes you let out a soft whimper and it's like a sudden wake-up call for him. he just made you let out a noise. and immediately want more. removing his finger out of you, holding your folds spread, he runs the handle of the knife along the entire length of your heat, making you whine again. "oh god..."

"you like it? i knew you might be into some crazy shit jus' when i first saw you...." matt throws the knife on the mattress and not wanting to waste more time, unzips his pants. "y'want it, yeah? tell me. tell me you want this---" he slaps your pussy making you squeal, the sound echoed throughout the room. did he really have to ask? you were dripping. for him. you should be scared of this psychopath in front of you, but instead you were turned on, which was sickening.

"mhm..." you hum, your eyes watching his movements very intensely. his pants were already down to his knees along with his boxers. swallowing nervously, your eyes stare at his hard cock, precum leaking from his red sensitive tip. damn, he was big. maybe even too big. "i-i do, but... i don't know if you're gonna fit---"

he felt his control slip away, those words making his cock harden more than possible. he just lets out, "--don'cha worry sweetheart.... i'll make it fit—", giving himself a few strokes and spreading your legs, pressing your knees against your stomach, he finally slides into you immediately feeling your slippery walls sucking him in and making him groan. you let out a muffled scream when he doesn't give you any time to adjust, he's just too desperate and feeling you around him makes his mind go blank. you feel his dick deep as he begins to move slowly inside you, brushing against your g-spot because of the position you two are in. your hands grab the sheets, eyes rolling back as he starts to pick up the pace immediately. it hurt, but at the same time it filled you with pleasure.

"oh--- 's too big... i can't—"

"yes you can." he growls thrusting into you harder, he can't get enough of the way your cunt feels around him so perfectly, the way you squirm beneath him, every single one of your moans leaving your lips, making him addicted. he looks down cursing to himself as he watches how his dick slip in and out of your sensitive pussy, each slap of skin makes you silently screaming and gripping the sheets as your life depended on it. "so fuckin' pretty... too big, huh? yet you take it all, like the good girl you are... fuck--"

"--mmmm, pleaseeee... oh my god—" you have no idea what even you're begging for. cutting yourself off, your eyes snap open looking at him, looking at the mask he was wearing, it just makes you clench around his dick.

"oh fuck, keep doin' that... s'fuckin' good f'me—" the headboard starts rocking against the wall with each movement of his hips and that's when you feel his hand wrapping around your neck, his fingers gripping gently at first as he picks up his pace even more making your mind spin. "that's right— take it... fuck-- take it all�� make me fuckin' proud...i knew you aren't that innocent as you pretend to be.."

"oh- i... don't.... oh my—" you aren't even able to form a sentence as his fingers tighten around your neck, making you let out more muffled moans but still being able to breathe. his every thrust into you starts overwhelming you with pleasure, watching him while he ruined you, that mask on his face drawing out of you your deepest, most hidden fantasies. matt was too far gone, the look on your face, the way your brows were knitted together and mouth slack open letting out more sweet needy sounds, it all was imprinted in his brain and he won't forget this for a long time.

"don't hold back, sweetheart. let me— mmhh shit— let me hear you..." his fingers squeeze around your throat some more causing your breath hitch as he continues going on the unholy pace.

"feels so.. s-so good— oh! right there... plea--" another scream leaving your lips when matt keeps pounding into you, your stomach drops over and over and your pussy squeezes around him again. he's in total disbelief how good you feel, how your walls manage to strangle him more, it's even better than what he imagined. "---'m gonna.... fuck!"

"yeaah, that's it sweetie.... cum all over my cock... make a mess on it— shittttt.... y'like it that much? being fucked by the fuckin'.... ghostface.... huh? mmhmm—" matt growls when his dirty words just adds to your pleasure and suddenly the knot in your stomach releases. too far gone in the sensation he was giving you, you let out a shaky moan, your eyes rolling back while your body continues to shake.

"oh yeah, so good... perfect..." matt groans and just by your expression, the way your legs were shaking, he feels his dick twitches. he lets go of your neck, warm cum bursts from his tip inside of you as your walls sucks him in deep. your legs fall down onto the mattress, both of you catching your breath as he gives you a few more thrusts before stopping and pulling out, taking last look at your pussy now leaking with your own and his release. you open your eyes, but matt is quick to stop you. "no, don't. keep them closed f'me. don't you dare open 'em until i tell you. got it?"

you frown a bit but keeps your eyes closed. "wha-"

your words are cut off pretty fast when matt pulls his mask halfway up so that only his lips are exposed and presses them against yours, stealing a small, surprised whimper from you, but you quickly kiss him back. you can't even feel him properly, only feeling the soft texture of his lips as he immediately pulls away, leaving you a bit surprised. feeling a small gust of wind, as if you couldn't feel the warmth of his body anymore, you ask, "--can i open my eyes?"

but there's no response, so after a moment you find the courage to open your eyes, but the room is empty. a small frown appears between your eyebrows while propping yourself up on your elbow and looking around, but the mysterious ghostface guy was nowhere to be found. he disappeared as if... as if it was just your dream. your next sick fantasy. however, you touch your lips slightly with your fingers, still feeling the sweet taste of the kiss that lasted too short for your liking and you know it just couldn't be only your imagination. it has to be real.

right?

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a/n: this is lowkey inspired by some fanfic i read a looong time ago on ao3 but i can't find it rn and i have no idea what it was called 😭

#matt sturniolo #sturnlsstuff ❦ [ghostface!matt]#matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x fem reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #ghostface!matt

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laurelwinchester · 1 year ago

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My controversial take is that I don't think Laurel is a bad mom but I don't think she's a good one either

i can see how that would sound like a controversial take but really it's just a fact. it's htlgi canon. laurel is not as bad as she thinks she is but she also hasn't done much to earn her World's Best Mom coffee mug. at least not yet.

there is a disconnect between laurel and motherhood because of her own mother and the issues there and instead of working to fix the brokenness, she just sort of...handed mary over to dean and became more of a fun aunt than a mom. because that was easier. she loves her daughter but she has no idea how to be a mother and she's too afraid to learn.

the best explanation was in chapter twenty in the october 2016 flashback from dean's pov:

she needs to get her shit together now that she is no longer in that grave, is the bottom line.

the reality is that she's terrified of being a mom because of what her mother did to her and she doesn't want to do that to mary but if she doesn't get help then she's going to wind up damaging mary anyway. unfortunately she probably already has.

#the thing about healing when you've been broken for years is that the idea of healing becomes scary and overwhelming #the pain has become such a part of you and your foundation #so much so that it's scary to imagine yourself without it because you have no idea who you'll be if it's gone #i think laurel is in that phase of her trauma #she can't live with it but she doesn't know how to live without it #laurel and mary #laurel lance #mary bea winchester #fic: how the light gets in #asks #anon

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nereidprinc3ss · 5 months ago

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weber's law

in which spencer reid comforts fem!reader when she's having a panic attack at the rossi mansion

fluff warnings/tags: panic attack lol, spencer is really cute and sweet my little perfect cutie pie angel baby, classic spencer info dumps bc they're pretty much his love language, established relationship, cheesy and sweet at the end a/n: this one is for my queens with panic disorders who are triggered by literally nothing and everything i see you have this ilysm

When Spencer had invited you to a small get-together at Rossi’s, you’d imagined a small get-together at Rossi’s.

And maybe that makes you a complete idiot.

Or maybe Spencer is just so used to FBI work functions that to him, this really is small.

But now you’re sitting on an expensive couch in a very nice house, and you’re surrounded by FBI agents who are all milling around and talking and laughing, and you’re worried maybe your outfit doesn’t look as nice on you as you’d thought it did, and you keep having very vivid visions of spilling your drink all over a furry throw rug that probably costs more than your rent does.

Music that could reasonably be considered relaxing or at the very least not objectionable plays over the sound system throughout the whole house and thus is inescapable—not that you’d get up from the couch even if you could, because Spencer is sitting to your right and he has his hand on your thigh and it’s the only thing that has until this point been keeping you from a full blown panic attack.

Maybe that makes you a complete idiot, too.

Regardless, you try to focus on nothing but the weight of his hand as it travels slowly up and down from knee to hip over the jeans you’re not so sure about, and the feeling of your breath coming and going, as slow as you can possibly summon it without passing out.

Spencer is laughing at something JJ is saying as she stands next to the couch with Will and you really like JJ but her voice seems so loud right now, and nothing is going particularly wrong but everything feels so, so wrong it’s scary.

All the buzzing tension in your body telling you to run away because you’re unsafe and at the same time locking you into place builds until you have to express it somehow. So you revert to an old habit—bouncing your leg rapidly like a rabbit thumping its foot. It’s not entirely conscious, but it feels better than being completely still. That is, until Spencer’s hand strays inward and cups just above your inner knee, where he begins fanning his thumb back and forth over the fabric.

“What’s this?” he murmurs, head angled toward you and voice low enough to not draw attention. You force yourself to plant your heel to the ground even though it worsens the feeling of gears crunching in your chest.

“Nothing. Sorry.”

That gets his attention.

Because of course it does. He’s always telling you to stop saying sorry so often.

His tone solidifies, still quiet but committed to this conversation now and no longer the whispery apparition of a quick aside.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t know, it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

You barely avoid apologizing again.

For a moment he doesn’t speak, just watches you—and you make the mistake of raising your gaze to meet his. He has that curious, analytical look about him, concern tightening his eyes and knitting his brow. He’s doing that annoying mind-reading thing again, and as soon as he actually sees your eyes, he’s figured you out.

“Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?”

After examining his face for any clues that he’d rather stay in here, (not that you’d really know what to look for), you nod hesitantly. Spencer mirrors your nod and stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you follow suit after setting your drink on a side table (without spilling.)

JJ is now wrapped up in conversation with another agent and the two of you manage to abscond without attracting unwanted attention, which makes you feel slightly better as Spencer leads you deftly through rooms with high-vaulted ceilings and big windows and heavy, expensive looking oak furniture. It seems like you’ve been wandering through a maze when you arrive to a quieter part of the house and he opens a french door for you—which leads out onto an empty patio.

A cool breeze immediately sinks into your skin, and your nervous system is so hyper-alert that it gives you chills. Spencer notices the way you shiver and steps closer after closing the door behind him, his hand finding the small of your back immediately.

“You okay?” he asks, intentionally avoiding impeding your view of the sweeping backyard and the trees beyond. Sometimes focusing on something stationary is less overwhelming, but they’re so tall they seem imposing. Threatening, even.

But then again, everything feels threatening right now.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Spencer seems unconvinced by your monotone—when you glance over at him he’s still watching you like you’re a puzzle to be solved.

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not.”

“Why are you so convinced something is wrong?” you laugh, but it comes out too manic. You cross your arms. He looks pointedly at the motion.

“For starters, that. Often times crossing your arms is a subconscious way of comforting yourself when you feel defensive or threatened. And you could say it’s because you’re cold, but—” he pauses, reaching out to touch your cheek. “I can feel how hot your face is, and you shivered when we came outside even though it’s 71 degrees because your nervous system is overreacting to external stimuli. The leg-bouncing is also often indicative of an activated parasympathetic nervous system. Is me touching you okay?”

Again, you nod—unsure how to deflect when he calls you out so efficiently.

Spencer’s hand slides down to just beneath your jaw, where he rests two fingers. Each second that passes has him looking progressively more worried. You wish you weren’t quite so catatonic—the fairy lights hanging from the pergola shine through his hair and make him glow so appealingly you want to kiss his cheek.

“Your heart rate is really high, honey.”

That would be due to the sense of impending doom. Thanks for pointing it out.

But you’ve lost your words, and along with them has gone your sense of humor. All you can manage for a 30 second span is a meaningless shake of your head as you avert your eyes, staring at the sprawling carpet of blue-green grass soaked in night as each blade doubles with your tears.

“I think I’m dying,” you finally croak.

“Technically, we all are. Very slowly.”

Ah. There’s that social tact he’s so well known for.

“Spencer.”

“Right,” he kisses your cheek as you stare up at him, affronted, and pulls you into his chest. “Sorry. I was actually trying to be helpful. Changes in brain chemistry and hormonal activity associated with panic attacks change your perception of time and make things feel really fast which can contribute to feelings of anxiety. But in reality time is moving just the same as it always is. One second is always one second. Sometimes remembering that helps me to slow down. Not literally, of course. My gravitational pull isn’t great enough to have any discernible effect on the passage of time.”

You sniff, pressing your cheek to his tie. His words make your head spin, seeing as you hadn't been prepared for a lecture in psychophysics—but it spins in the opposite direction than it had been going previously. It's nice.

“Change your perception of time?”

“Weber’s law of perception. Stimulus sensitivity will increase proportionally with increased stimulus intensity. You’re only perceiving time to be going faster because your cortisol and adrenaline levels are making you hyper-vigilant and sensitive to all the markers of time passing.”

“Like what?”

Spencer hums, the bass of it a comforting resonance against your ear, and strokes your hair unhurriedly.

“Like… your internal clock. Your body measures time with your heartbeat, so when your heart rate increases, time seems to go faster. Also environmental cues, which lead you to understand that the world is not stagnant and thus is not frozen in time. Like the sound of the wind chimes…” he pauses, long enough for you to realize that indeed, you can hear the gentle, sonorous ringing and tinkling of steel chimes bouncing against each other. “And the wind itself, which is coming all the way from the Gulf of Mexico. Some studies actually suggest that wind direction can affect your energy levels and mood.”

It’s a gentle breeze more than it is full-blown wind. It feels cool against your hot skin.

Spencer’s hand on the back of your head, still rhythmically smoothing your hair, seems to slow down the passage of time as well. You focus on that, and the sound of the wind chimes and the breeze on your skin for a few minutes, until your breathing and your heart rate slow and soon you regain your footing in the temporal dimension, exactly sure of where you stand on Rossi’s patio and in your boyfriend’s arms.

“You tricked me into doing a grounding exercise,” you mumble into Spencer’s jacket.

“I did not trick you,” he defends, voice quiet to match yours. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

You pull away from him and he lets you, watching on as you sniffle and wipe your tears on your sleeves.

“Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak as you gather yourself. He leads you by the hand to a cushioned hanging bench at the end of the patio, taking a seat next to you and gently rocking the swing.

“Do you know what triggered that?” Spencer asks, over the gentle creaking sound. You shrug, observing the dance of the fireflies in the grass.

“Nothing. Sometimes I just feel like everything’s wrong and scary but I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your night.”

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulder. “You are not ruining my night. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But all your friends and coworkers are inside, and you’re out here with me.”

He angles his head down toward you and you look up to meet his eyes, even warmer than the sticky summer night.

“I am. Do you know why?”

“Because I suck,” you sniffle, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you attempt to look away. But Spencer’s not having it. He encourages you to sit up again so you can look at him properly, before wiping tears away gently with his thumb. When he speaks, it’s in soft, soothing tones.

“No. I’m out here because if all my friends were inside having fun, and you were outside having a panic attack, I would choose you every time.”

You manage a laugh through the crying.

“I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

“Whether or not it’s healthy is an entirely different discussion,” Spencer smiles wryly, before it melts into something softer and more sincere. “All that matters is that it’s true.”

For a while after that, you simply lay your head on his shoulder. Spencer controls the speed of the swing with his much-longer legs, kissing your head and rubbing your arm as you admire the expanse of Rossi’s lush yard bathed in moonlight and the black silhouette of the forest beyond.

Eventually, Spencer speaks again, likely to make sure you’re not spiraling alone in your head.

“Can I tell you an extremely classified secret that I've been trying really hard to keep to myself for three days?” he asks, and the mischievous edge to his voice catches your attention. You hum in assent, already wondering what kind of information Spencer would have a hard time keeping to himself. It could be anything.

“Anderson is sleeping with Childers from Operational Tech.”

“What?”

Despite not working for the FBI yourself, Spencer and Penelope have you so filled in on the drama that you know exactly why that’s shocking.

You pick your head up to look at him like do not fuck with me right now.

His eyes sparkle as he nods.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t you tell me Childers was dating that girl in sex crimes?”

Spencer raises his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches. You gasp.

“No! What? Does Anderson know?”

“I don’t know. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Wait—Anderson told you this?”

“Yeah!” He laughs incredulously at your complete disbelief. “People tell me things! I’m an excellent confidant!”

“If you’re relaying all of this information to me then you’re a terrible confidant,” you chuckle, still watery—but feeling light years better.

Spencer brushes your hair away from your face fondly, leaning a fraction of an inch closer.

“You don’t count. Telling you secrets is basically the same as keeping them to myself.”

“Basically,” you tease, angling your head up by a few degrees in invitation. Spencer says nothing, does nothing for a long moment—just studies you with soft eyes, continues stroking your cheek. When he takes too long to kiss you, you get impatient. “I’m still kinda anxious, you know.”

He smiles knowingly.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, looking pointedly at his lips. “You should kiss me better.”

“I think that would take more than just one kiss,” he murmurs through a smile, leaning ever closer until your noses are bumping. “I think I would have to devote several hours to that. Maybe even a whole day.”

“How does tomorrow look for you?”

He’s laughing as he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and lingering.

“For you? It’s wide open.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine

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carlsangel · 6 months ago

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CARE TO KNOCK?

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl get caught. twice.)

tags: SMUT!! oral sex, f!receiving, getting caught! fun!

masterlist here!

You tried your hardest to be discreet about how…active you and Carl were. It wasn’t the easiest considering Carl was the leaders’ son and it seemed like eyes were always on him, whether it was his dad’s or Michonne’s. Sometimes people in the community.

You’d try to sneak off and do what you could but with your guys’ luck, you almost always got interrupted. One time something possessed the both of you to try it in the church house when there was a community event. That went as well as you’d imagine.

“Holy mother of-” Gabriel had walked in on the both of you on one of the pews. God was it embarrassing. (see what i did there) The scene he’d walked in on consisted of you without a shirt and Carl’s hand practically groping your tits over your bra. Also you were attached at the mouth so you could see why he’d be terrified.

Obviously you scrambled to put your clothes on while Carl tried to explain for the both of you, begging to not tell Rick or Michonne. “Look man, we’re really sorry we just- please don’t tell my dad. I’m begging you he can’t know about this.” He explains worriedly. Gabriel stood there still shocked. You had to make it up to him somehow, considering you were doing an unholy act in a holy place but, there wasn’t really any real repercussions because Carl had gotten him to keep it a secret. Something about making it up to him for something Gabriel had done when they first arrived at Alexandria.

Anyway, a large reason you didn’t want Rick to know, was because you two shared a room. You were happy to almost always get away with things at night (you tried not to be too loud) and not have anyone know. It was nice. Until one particular day.

Rick and Michonne go out on Wednesday mornings to scavenge, so you two took advantage of the time you had..and got to it. It wasn’t really anything crazy, your morning sex was usually romantic and sweet. It’s not like you were going at it like animals.

One week, they’d left a bit earlier so in your mind, you were able to get some extra time.

“Oh fuck-” You spoke breathlessly, he was under the blanket eating you out. Something about the way he was ruthlessly lapping at your clit made you realize that today’s morning sex wouldn’t be so romantic. He began to move upwards and start kissing up your body hungrily. He started to place harsh kisses all around your neck, leaving small bruises around as well. “You’re so perfect.” He mumbled against your neck.

The next thing you know, he’s sitting up with your legs between his knees. He flips you over on your stomach and lifts your hips up so you’re arched for him how he wants. You giggle at his sudden movements and you’re surprised by him literally shoving himself inside of you.

“Oh-” You moan loudly, surprising yourself and immediately slapping your hand over your mouth. He began thrusting himself in and out of you with no plan on stopping. That was until the door beside your guys’ bed suddenly opened. It opened just enough so Rick could see you and your back, Carl’s arms and his face.

Your eyes go wide and once he realizes what was happening, Rick quickly shuts the door, catching Carl’s attention which causes him to stop. “What the hell was that?” He asked, his hands still resting at your hips. “Your fucking dad.” You pull away from him and Carl sits there sort of astonished. “W-wait he saw?” He covers himself with the blanket and you move to find your underwear and shorts.

“Not everything, just me I hope. He didn’t open the door open too much.” You pull up your underwear and scramble around for your shorts which Carl pulled from under the blanket he was using to cover himself. “What’s scary is that you didn’t stop.”

You throw him his own clothes which were on the floor and he feels somewhat upset he didn’t realize the door had opened. He was too busy fucking you. “Well it’s kinda hard to focus on stopping when I’m in the middle of something.” He says defensively, pulling up his boxers and sweatpants. You plop on the bed, dropping your head to your hands while he found a shirt to wear. After seeing how worried you were, he walked over and kissed the top of your head.

“Don’t stress out okay? It’ll be fine, worst comes to worst he’ll take the room away but we’ll work our way around it.” He reassured. Maybe he’s right. This didn’t have to be such a big deal. If Carl didn’t make it one, you wouldn’t either.

“Care to knock? What the hell?” You both were now in the kitchen, Carl was scolding Rick who was standing with Michonne and Maggie at the island. You were standing behind him quietly. “Well I thought we were way past knockin. Plus we got home early.” Rick sort of laughs, seeming unfazed. Your eyebrows furrow at this and he notices. “What, you thought we didn’t know about what goes on in there at night?”

You look to Michonne and Maggie who were both sort of smiling at you. “What?” You asked peeved. “I mean…you’re not exactly the quietest.” Michonne reasons. Your face is flushed and you’re super embarrassed, it doesn’t help that when you turn you realize both Glenn and Daryl had been in the room as well, you just hadn’t noticed. Glenn sort of giggles at you, Daryl just…is Daryl. “Oh shit.” You mutter to yourself, hiding your face in your hands and Carl just stands there annoyed as hell.

“They’re not wrong though you are quite loud.” He says quietly, slightly teasing you over a conversation you’d had many times before, he always made fun of you for being so vocal, even though he loved it. You look up from your hands just to give him a pissed off glare. You give him a shove to the shoulder and make your way back upstairs.

“Fuck off.”

a/n: sorry guys for this HAHAHA idk how smutty anon wanted this request but they got smut..sorry pookie :| ANYWAY i hope you all enjoyed, currently deciding on closing my requests cause im gettin a shit ton but we’ll figure that out later!!! love you bye!!!

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

#carl grimes #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes twd #carl grimes smut #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #carl grimes angst #the walking dead carl #twd carl #smut #twd smut #rinas writing 🌀

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monstersflashlight · 6 months ago

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Hey, I was wondering g if you could make a sleeping in the dark part 2? If it's okay to ask could you possibly do a chubby!reader?

Crying in the middle of the night in the darkness but the minster comes out to think reader is crying because of the dark. Reassuring her that it's oka and the dark isn't scary but, reader then explains that she wasn't crying because of the dark. The monster gets all confused and asks why she was crying. Reader tells the monster that she was insecure abt her body, then further explains that's she's been being treated badly in her work/school environment by her peers because of her body/looks.

Thank you if you respond, I mean it could be a she part and not part 2 but again, thank you.

-🦝 anon.

Hi 🦝 anon! I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this. I really wanted to do justice to this request. As a chubby woman myself, I know perfectly well the struggles of being fat in a society that doesn’t like fat at all. I try not to make any comments about the body of the reader if it doesn’t play a part in the action bc I want ppl to imagine themselves there as they want. Even when the monsters use terms as “little human” think about it like the monster is so big you are tiny, doesn’t matter how big you are in real life. I love a good size difference, so there’s that. I hope you don’t think this means you need somebody to tell you you are pretty, beautiful or hot, because that’s not true, you are all that without anyone saying it. Believe me, as someone who likes boys, girls, and everything in between, fat bodies are hot like burning. But I do get the necessity to hear it sometimes, and this story is born because of it. That said, I hope this is as cathartic for you as it was for me, this short hit really close to the heart for me. <3

Part 1 if you haven't read it

Sleeping in the dark (part 2)

Night monster x chubby fem!reader || orgasm denial || tw: fatphobia

You were, once again, crying in your room, ugly sobs that made it hard to breathe and your heart beating faster. You felt his presence before he could make himself known. “Oh no, little human, I thought we went past the fear of the dark.” His tone was so soft you felt your heart skip a beat.

You sniffled against the pillow, “is not that.” You tried to tell him more, but another sob broke from your chest.

“What do you mean?” He seemed confused at your statement, like there weren’t any other reasons why you could be crying about. You guessed as a monster in your closet he probably didn’t know much about the horrors of the world. He lived in a bubble of darkness inside your room, after all.

“They- They called me fat,” you told him in between hiccups.

“Who did?” His tone sounded dangerous. You looked up from your pillow, trying to see something in the dark of your room. You could see his silhouette, but nothing else. You wished you could turn the light on, but you didn’t want him to go.

“Some random dude from the office. They called me fat. They thought I wasn’t listening but they called me fat and made fun of me. I thought I was past that, but there’s always someone that reminds me how ugly my body is.” He growled at that statement. You ignored it and kept talking, “they always tell you to love your body, but when it comes to being fat, they want you to hate yourself. And I try to fight it, I try every day, but sometimes is just too much.” You sobbed again, he touched your knee and you felt his arms closing around you two seconds later. “I just want to be pretty.” You cried against his chest, your voice muffled by his skin. He growled and you felt it against your teary face.

“Don’t say that. You are pretty, you are beautiful, you are the most beautiful human,” his voice was filled with desperation for you to believe him.

“You have to say that, you’ve only seen me,” you joked. The laugh you let out was swallowed by the sob that broke free right after.

“You are wrong.” He touched your skin, wiping away some tears with his thumb. “I’ve lived thousands of years, I’ve known many humans, some of them have known me. You are beautiful. You are perfect.”

“No, I’m not. But thanks for saying that.” He flipped you onto your back so fast you let out a scream. He tore your clothes apart and you felt him caressing every inch of your skin at the same time.

“Beautiful,” he told you. He touched every part of your body, caressing your skin like you were a work of art, whispering endearing words against your ear. He told you every single compliment you could think of, and then some more.

It felt wrong to feel like that, you felt like he was lying, but he couldn’t be. It felt like he was forcing you to acknowledge every single cell in your body. It felt like he was pushing the words in your soul, trying to imprint them there so you wouldn’t feel ugly never again. You cried, at every single word, a tear ran down your skin. He didn’t wipe them out, he let you cry as he caressed your skin. When he parted your legs and positioned himself there, you kept crying.

Your pussy was so wet, and your soul felt so raw.

He started slow, licking your wet lips, playing with his tongue all over, but where you wanted him the most. He never shut up, telling you how pretty you were, how wet, how wonderful for him, how perfect. You were rapidly approaching to an orgasm when he said: “Say nice things about yourself if you want to come.” You shook your head, grabbing his head and trying to push him to eat you out again. “Say it,” he ordered. His voice was hard and commanding.

“I- I can’t,” you cried out. There was no way. You didn’t feel it, it wasn’t true. You weren’t pretty. You weren’t beautiful. His words seemed like a lie, but his actions spoke volumes. One of his hands never stopped caressing your soft tummy, your wide hips. His other hand played with your pussy, thrusting in and out in a tortuous way.

“Say it!” He insisted, his tone angry as he pushed two fingers into you forcefully. You cried out, almost there, so close but so far.

“I- I’m pretty,” you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. He rewarded you sucking your clit into his mouth, the touch of fangs against your vulnerable flesh made you shudder.

“More,” he ordered.

“I’m beautiful.” Each word was rewarded by his fingers rubbing perfectly inside of you, a torture like any other, driving you insane with pleasure. “I’m hot.” Each word he forced out of you felt like he was taking a weight from your chest. You felt like you were going to float away.

“Yes. Yes, you are.” He kept playing with you, getting you close to the edge just to go away when you stopped talking. He forced you to be nice to yourself, to say all the things you didn’t believe you were. But he did, he believed. And for the moment, that might be enough. He thought you were beautiful, he thought you were hot. Maybe… maybe he was right. He never lied to you.

You were lost in your thoughts and the pain-pleasure he was giving you when he flicked his tongue over your clit as he hit your G-spot. “Come for me, pretty human. Show me how perfect you are.” And you did, falling apart around his tongue and his fingers. The attack on your senses crashing down onto you.

You had an out of body experience, the tears cool against your cheeks, your rapid breathing coming into short exhales as he played with your pussy to drive you further up. You came so hard you think you saw stars. You felt boneless, your body and your soul completely spent. You felt him cleaning you with a soft cloth, your eyes closing already.

“I will stay with you,” he murmured as you were falling asleep. You felt his arms closing around you, his hands caressing your body, from your wide hips to your soft tummy… He made you feel special, he made you feel beautiful.

#part 2 #monster #monster fucker #monster imagine #monster x human #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #terato #night monster #night monster x reader #night monster x human #fem!reader #tw: fatphobia #🦝 anon

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xxxdreamscapexxx · 1 year ago

Text

Sweet trouble

Pairing: Step!Mother Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 12.7k

Summary: Being left home alone is the perfect time to catch up on all your secret activities. What you don't expect is that your Step Mother has secrets of her own, or that you'll stumble on them accidentally. What will happen when she finds out you've been going through her things?

Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, Stepcest?, masturbation, edging, teasing, oral, fingering, finger sucking, Mommy!Kink, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader

Masterlist with all my works.

When you woke up this morning, you never, in your wildest dreams imagined that one of your most secret, most shameful desires will come true. It was something you had only seen in fanfiction and maybe twisted porn, but never believed real people did, or that it could in fact, happen to you. Truthfully, if someone had told you such a thing will happen, you would have scoffed and called them crazy.

But you were getting ahead of yourself. Your morning started the way it often did during the summer. You got up and walked down the stairs, to find Wanda sipping her coffee and scrolling through her phone. As usual, she put it away as soon as she saw you and she greeted you warmly.

Wanda Maximoff was your stepmother. She had married your father a little over 4 years ago, but you had known her for almost 5 and despite having a rocky start with the woman, you actually had a great relationship with her. She was warm and sweet and she never treated you like a child, nor did she try to “replace” your actual mother, who did her best to stay in your life. In fact, Wanda treated you with respect and kindness and you soon saw her as a friend.

Well… That wasn’t entirely true. You started seeing her as a friend at first, but over the years that connection shifted. She talked to you about the things your parents never wanted to, she always listened without prejudice or judgement and gave amazing advice. She also cared about your interests and she supported all your hobbies and little projects and she even often helped you.

Wanda was there when you decided to make a replica of the “T.A.R.D.I.S” from “Doctor Who” and spent an entire weekend helping you build it, so it would end up perfect, she watched every scary movie you asked for, because you could never bring yourself to do it on your own, and even though you were both scared, she always pretended not to be. For your sake. And then, when you were too scared to sleep alone, she pretended to fall asleep on the couch and let you snuggle into her, even if her back hurt the next day. She encouraged your writing, she read every book you ranted about… She supported you when you came out. For all those things and so much more, you gave Wanda your love.

Unfortunately for you, those were also the reasons why at some point, you stopped seeing Wanda as a friend and started seeing her as the woman of your dreams. Yes, cheesy. But true. And that idea gnawed at you ever since you stopped trying to lie to yourself.

The truth is, you spent way more time with Wanda than your father ever did. He was good, a good man and a good father, but his work often had him travelling for long. When you were young, he often took the whole family with him. Had private tutors for you, made sure you were educated by the best and brightest and the love of learning connected you together. But as you grew older, that life drove your mother away. To make the matters worse, he realized you needed stability just around the same time he met Wanda and soon, you were left in the big house, surrounded by housekeeping and your new stepmother, while he was away for months at a time. But at least he let you attend high school, instead of hiring more tutors, so you wouldn’t feel so alone.

You often wondered why Wanda chose to be with him when you, his daughter, knew more about her, spent more time with her and, you were sure, loved her far more than he did. But you never dared to ask and she never spoke of that, preferring to focus on you instead and you reciprocated that interest. You watched her favourite sitcoms with her, spent afternoons making pottery with her, which resulted in way too many crooked ceramic mugs in your home that you never knew what to do with, but loved too much to throw away. You taught her calligraphy, after you showed her your first story and she declared that you have the “prettiest handwriting” and asked you to teach her. In turn, she gave you cooking lessons, because her food was by far, the best thing you had tasted, until it became a tradition that you made dinner together.

God, you shared so much of your life, so much of yourself with the woman, you gave so much of yourself to her, that it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that you ended up falling for her. And her way with you didn’t help matters either. And yes, it wasn’t something outrageous. It was little things, like the way she’d hold you, pulling you closer into her side during movie nights, which by the way were almost every night. It was the way she sat with you on the couch in the study, reading her book while you did homework, mindlessly playing with your hair, it was her protective on the small of your back, when you felt surrounded by people, the way she always knew when you needed her to step in and save you from strangers, or the soft way she held your hand when you went somewhere together…

It was never one thing. It was a million little things and each one had you falling more and more deeply in love with her, until you couldn’t deny it anymore. You realized it during your junior year, when all your friends wouldn’t shut up about boys and their crushes and all you would think about was Wanda. What plans you had with her, what you’d watch with her, what meal you’ll be making together, where you’d go over the weekend… It was all Wanda. Even in your dreams. And to make matters worse, those dreams soon manifested into your waking hours, flooding your thoughts with nothing but her.

Now, the beginning of summer after senior year, when you had decided to take a gap year before college and focus on yourself, your writing, perhaps even travelling, you were fully aware that you wanted none of those things without her. You hadn’t booked a single destination, because you hadn’t yet the courage to ask if she’d join you. You had stopped showing her your stories, because they were all about her and despite your best efforts had turned highly suggestive and then straight up erotic, up to the point that they no longer soothed you, when you thought of Wanda, but rather left you even more turned on and needy.

The neediness, unfortunately for you, had been another new development. No matter how many cold showers you took, how many times you masturbated to thoughts of her, the ache between your legs never quite went away. Actually, every time you’d see her, every night when she cuddled you and played you a movie, every evening when you helped her make dinner, each hot afternoon spent at the pool with her, left you a horny mess.

Today, after you helped Wanda make breakfast, that the two of you shared, she asked you if you’d like to go out with her. She had some errands to do and she promised to make it fun, despite the tediousness, offering you lunch at your favourite restaurant, or perhaps a small shopping trip in the afternoon, but you declined, opting to stay home instead.

To be fair, you wanted to go with her, you wanted to spend every second you could with her, but being left home alone meant that you could perhaps catch up on your writing without her seeing you and asking to read your story, or finally take care of the ache between your legs that lately never went away, but you were never alone for… Maybe even do it, the way you so often longed for, but never could… God, you were a twisted girl. But you couldn’t help it. You just wanted her so much.

Wanda seemed a little bit surprised and frankly disappointed by your refusal, but she took a deep breath and she wished you a nice day, before she took her purse and her car keys, phone tucked in the back pocket of her tightly fitted jeans and she left, putting on her stylish sunglass, before opening the front door and disappearing from your view.

As soon as she was gone, you rushed to the study, reaching out behind a cluster of old, dusty books and taking out the Paperblanks hardcover journal dedicated to Edgar Allan Poe that she got you as a gift. It was beautiful and stylish and filled with all the stories you wrote about her.

As soon as the notebook fell open, you saw the last page you had written on and your fingers traced the last paragraph, reading through it. “You don’t hesitate when your fingers lace with my hair, your grip firm as you hold me in place and you study my face. My mouth open, my tongue sticking out as it awaits your dripping pussy...” Yes, you remember that and your legs instantly cross over each-other at the wave of arousal, but you keep it at bay.

For the next few hours all you do is write. Your fantasies running rampant and free and filling the pages. It was almost a trans-like state, your hand moving almost on its own while the images in your head played out in front of your eyes. It felt freeing to be able to “share” your thoughts somehow, even if no one ever saw them and you only reluctantly stopped, when your stomach growled for food and your hand was cramping.

You made your way to the kitchen, groaning, your writing session had left you wet and so needy, that despite your instincts and Wanda’s voice in your head, telling you to eat something heathy and filling, you pulled out a fruit yogurt with mango and maracuja and ate it, leaning on the counter, wanting to stretch your legs a little.

Finished with your “meal”, you headed upstairs, making your way to the bedrooms. Yours was at the end of the hall and you headed for it, but stopped mid-way, when you saw Wanda’s bedroom door was slightly ajar and you stopped right in front of it, debating with yourself. You knew you shouldn’t go in, that it was an invasion of her privacy, but your heart was so full of longing for her that you eventually reasoned, that you’ll only look around… Just get her scent in your nostrils and leave.

As soon as you walked in, your eyes started to search the unfamiliar space. It’s not that you’ve never been here, but the room was so alien to you, one you’d spent the least time in, that it almost didn’t feel right. You certainly never dared be so inquisitive, when Wanda was there with you.

Your eyes scanned every object, every photo, most of which were of you and Wanda and you allowed yourself to breathe in the aroma of everything Wanda. It smelled like clean sheets and her favourite vanilla and Himalayan magnolia air freshener, like her perfume and just something uniquely her. God, you’d roll around in it if you could.

Everything seemed so perfectly in order, her bed made and without a single crinkle in it, the room so pristine and clean. It was lovely, and your heart skipped a beat at the thought that you wished you could wake up here, next to her each morning.

Walking further into the room, your curiosity almost entirely satisfied now, you ran your fingers over the objects she had on display. Souvenirs from trips the two of you had went to, her certificate for completing a “beginners” course in Latin dances, that she only went to for you and that you had stopped attending, because you hated how every man in the studio drooled over her, the ceramic figurine of a cute bear that you made her one time, a bowl of sea shells that the two of you had collected last summer at the beach…

You were just about ready to leave, when the sight of a drawer, half-open and because of that seeming out of place, caught your attention. Everything was so perfectly in order in this room, that it looked so strange to see it left like this and you went to it thoughtlessly, pulling it open to inspect its content, only to gasp in surprise at what you found there.

It was full of toys. Sex toys, to be exact and you couldn’t help but stumble backwards a little at seeing just how many there were. Dildos in all colours, shapes and sizes and made from different materials were organized, each in its individual place. Handcuffs, soft Velcro cuffs and steal, regular ones easily distinguished. Ropes, blindfolds, some butt plugs, vibrators, lube, a couple of harnesses and even other things that you couldn’t name or guess the intended use of, could be seen laid out and you studied them with deep curiosity.

Did Wanda use all these? Did she lay here, in her big, soft bed and play with herself at night? What did she think about? Who did she picture in her fantasies, when she buried one of these toys inside herself? Did she do it slowly, or did she like it rough? How did it feel to be stretched out and full?

As your mind was flooded with questions, you mindlessly got closer, your hand reaching into the drawer and your fingertips grazing a rather large, realistic looking dildo. You’d never actually seen toys in real life, so the sensation was both strange and exhilarating. Sure, you were 19 now and could buy them if you wanted to, but the thought just never appealed to you.

You just couldn’t picture it. You’d never had anything other than two of your fingers inside yourself and it had already felt too much. You couldn’t even imagine what something so big would feel like or would do to you. Did Wanda enjoy the feeling of them? Did she ever wear her harness and bury one of these inside someone or did she like to be on the receiving end? You certainly liked to imagine yourself on the receiving end of one of her toys, especially after you learned of her past with women. She had shared those details when you came out to her, hoping to soothe you and help you feel like you’re not alone, but you never imagined that you’ll one day walk into your stepmother’s bedroom and find so many toys, or that you’ll find yourself wishing you could see her play with them… God, the one you reached for looked so big, so thick in your hand. That could never fit inside you.

Yet the thought of Wanda stepping into her harness and picking out a dildo from her collection, while you waited for her in the bed, spread out and so needy for her, had your legs squeezing together in search for relief. Would she tie you down? Would she be sweet and soft? Would she use her fingers and her mouth? What would it feel like to have your arms wrapped around her, to be able to kiss her, as she had her way with you?

Fuck, you needed relief. And you needed it now. And you knew you should just go to your room and do what you always did, but this time you couldn’t. You couldn’t just close your eyes and picture Wanda, when here, in her room, all your senses were surrounded by her.

You hesitated for a moment, considering the danger, but it was still early and all the staff had the next few weeks off, so you knew you’ll be all alone. You could just… Lie down. Not even under the covers, just on top of her sheets and maybe pull your panties to the side. They were all wet already. You’ll just pull your dress up and take care of that ache and then you’ll fix Wanda’s bed and leave.

You knew it was a bad idea, but in your brain, clouded by lust, you couldn’t help yourself and gave in. So you did exactly as you planned, the skirts of your dress bunched up around your waist, your panties pulled to the side, while your fingers circled your clit. You lay on your stomach, you face buried in Wanda’s pillow and inhaling her scent as your mind filled with images of her. It was wonderful. God, it was heavenly. But it wasn’t enough. Before you knew it, you had made yourself orgasm twice already, but the desperate feeling never went away. You needed more.

You slowly turned, laying on your back, your hand finding its way back to your clit, but it was only a measure to keep you calm while you thought. What could you do? And almost like fate, your face turned to the open drawer full of toys and an idea sparked inside you. You could… No, that was an extremely bad idea. It was wrong… But maybe, it could help?

Getting up, telling yourself you’ll only take a quick look, you made your way back to the drawer and looked inside. You had no idea how to choose, so you trusted your instincts, picking a fairly small, pink dildo that seemed to look cute and entirely forgetting what a terrible idea this was, you made your way back to Wanda’s bed with giddiness, lying on your back and looking the toy over for a moment, before reaching down.

You rubbed the toy’s head against your opening, getting it slick with your juices and teasing your clit a little, before you started to slowly push it inside. The stretch felt unfamiliar, the toy, despite being small, still being larger than your fingers and you took your time to let it sink in deeper, allowing your pussy some time to adjust to it.

In just a few minutes, you had it fully inside you, the base pressing against your opening and oh, it was perfect. It was exactly what you needed and you quickly reached down with your free hand, finding your clit and adding the extra stimulation. Thoughts of Wanda quickly made their way into your head and you started to imagine the older woman doing exactly what you did to yourself, her hands working you perfectly, while her velvety voice wrapped around you and made you lose yourself entirely.

Taking your time to let it unfold, your body buzzing with excitement and pleasure, your muscles tightening, you knew you were about to have one of the best orgasms of your life, when suddenly, you heard the front door open and shortly after shut itself.

Fuck!

Sitting up, you heard Wanda’s keys land in the bowl with yours and your nervous anxiety hit a new high, when she called out your name form the living room.

Fuck!

She’d start looking for you soon, if you didn’t act quickly! God, what do you do? You needed to get out of there!

Your eyes roamed around the room nervously, toy still buried inside you and you knew you couldn’t put it back like that, covered in your slick! She’ll see it eventually and then she’ll know what you did. In the rush of the moment, you did the only thing you thought would be smart. You put your panties back where they belonged, seeing the imprint of the dildo against them and you got out of her bed. You tried to smoothen it as much as you could, but you herd her voice call out your name again, this time from the kitchen and you knew she’ll come up the stairs next. In a rush, you just closed her drawer and practically ran out, leaving the door slightly ajar as it was and you hesitated if you should go to your room, but before you could make your way there, you heard Wanda’s steps as she ascended the stairs and you knew there will be no time.

Closing your eyes for a moment, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress and feeling the fullness as you tried to calm your nerves, you committed to the decision you knew you had to make and despite every instinct of yours, you rushed towards her, meeting her just as she was at the top of the stairs.

“Ah, Y/N, there you are! I was calling you.” She smiled as she saw you, reaching out to give you a hug.

“Yeah, I heard you, I was just coming to meet you.” You manage to say, forcing a smile.

“Are you all right, honey?” The older woman’s eyebrows furrowed. “You look a little flushed.” She said with concern, one of her hands reaching out to feel your forehead. “And you feel warm too.” She determined, her eyes scanning you.

“Yeah, I’m all good.” You tried to reassure her, still practically blocking the older woman’s path.

“You sure?” Wanda asked once more, concern evident in her eyes and you tried to calm your nerves.

“I promise.” You tried to say with conviction and hoping your knees wouldn’t buckle.

“Ok, honey, but if you feel unwell, you’ll tell me, right?”

“Of course.” You smiled warmly and, seeing that the woman seemed to be going to her room, the place where you had just been, you tried to dissuade her. “Hey, I was wondering, could we have pasta for dinner today? The one with the special sauce you make?”

“Sure, honey.” Wanda beamed, her hand stroking your cheek softly before she moved past you. “Let me go get changed and we’ll go make it together.” She suggested.

Not wanting to seem weird, you let the woman pass and after watching her enter her bedroom, you actually relaxed a little, thinking that you could use this time to go back to your own room and pull out the dildo still nestled inside you, when her voice forced you to stiffen once more.

“Hey, honey, why don’t you go and take out the vegetables from the fridge and start washing them? I’ll be right down.” Wanda called out, interrupting your train of thought and destroying any chance you had of going through with disposing of the cursed toy.

“Ok.” You called out, facing the stairs defeatedly.

In your guilt over what you did, you felt like you couldn’t risk saying “no” and going to your room instead, not wanting to rouse Wanda’s suspicion. So, a little wobbly on your legs and feeling even more aroused than when you first went in her bedroom, you walked down the stairs, doing exactly as she asked, planning how to excuse yourself later and pull the damned thing out of you.

Wanda walked into her bedroom and started to unbutton her shirt, asking you to start dinner as she went, but suddenly stopped, her eyes narrowing. It wasn’t that there was something particularly wrong, it’s just that something felt out of place and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Shrugging, she tossed her shirt on an empty chair and started to take off her jeans next, leaving herself in just her underwear and going to the closet to pick out more comfy clothes. She put on a pair of black sweats and took out a dark red top that she knew you loved and put it over her head, turning to leave, when her eyes narrowed again.

Her bed was all wrinkled and the covers were looking lumpy and it bothered her somehow. Did she leave it like this today? She leaned down and started to fix it, her hands smoothing the covers and tucking them in as she always did, when her palm ran over a damp spot. Now this really caught her attention and she inspected it more closely.

It looked like a small wet spot, more visible now that she knew to look for it and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Had you been here? But why would you be on her bed? That didn’t make sense, until a realization came over her, like pieces of a puzzle coming together. Your flushed face, the way you tried to block her path, how out of breath you seemed and this… The state of her bed… She suddenly straightened, rushing to her drawer.

As soon as she opened it, she knew what you had done. She knew her collection very well, knew exactly what she owned and where it was, so the absent pink dildo was like a glaring hole in the middle of her drawer. But why hadn’t you put it back? Had she gotten home and interrupted you? That seemed more and more likely and at the thought, she could only sigh.

Wanda was a lot of things, but stupid just wasn’t one of them. She realized you had a crush on her somewhere around the end of your junior year and at first the thought scared her. Sure, she had noticed you turning into a beautiful young woman, she wasn’t blind, and you had already shared with her that you were gay, but she never imagined you’d develop feelings towards her. Naturally, she thought it was simple curiosity. You were growing, it was normal. It would probably go away on its own. You were surrounded by girls your own age, with young bodies and unburdened by life, so she believed you’d soon move on.

But as time passed those lingering looks you gave her started to be accompanied by something else. A kind of longing in your eyes, a kind of shy almost hope that she couldn’t quite place. Until eventually she did. Wanda knew you better than anyone in the world, she knew what made you tick and as she watched your gaze follow her, while she sipped wine, your eyes fixed on her lips and your legs squeezing together, she realized that your relationship with her had changed. You saw her differently.

That thought scared Wanda more than she ever expected and she excused herself quickly, practically running to her bedroom and burying her face in her pillow and her first thoughts were for you. She felt terrible, imagining how scared you must be, how sad and disheartened to be infatuated with your father’s wife. She kept thinking about how alone you must feel, not being able to tell anyone. How heart wrenching it must be to spend every day with her and know she was with another.

In her eyes you were her girl and she held so much love for you that the knowledge that she caused such feelings inside you, that she caused you so much pain, was devastating to her. After realizing what really bothered you, she spent so many sleepless nights, thinking of you. And in her love, she thought the best thing for you would be to pull away from you.

Yes, she didn’t love your father anymore… If ever. He was hardly ever home, hardly ever spending any time with her, always promising to retire, but never doing so… The only reason she stayed all this time was always you. She married him because she wanted a family, never expecting that she’ll find that in you. And when she had… Well… That made her choice very easy. But you were such a young girl. An old soul, admittedly, but still so young. She couldn’t let you spend those sweet years pining over your stepmother. So pull away she did.

Little did she know how devasted you’d be, feeling her absence as a hole in your heart and crying so many nights, when you thought that she no longer wanted your presence. She watched your heartbreak from afar, hating herself for it, yet thinking it would be for the best, until one night, when she heard you speak to one of your friends on the phone.

Your broken voice almost made her cry then and there and she vowed to never do that to you again. So she made sure that things went back to normal, to the routine the two of you had, but she never quite stopped noticing how the love in you bloomed.

The summer vacation after your junior year she spent entirely with you, having a grand time going to the beach, sunbathing, while you read books and drank cocktails together. Yours virgin, of course. But she’d let you have a sip from hers every once in a while, to indulge your curiosity. She’d rather let you drink with her and make sure you’re safe.

Then came your 18th birthday and the party you hosted at the house, you and your friends having fun around the pool and she thought that with all these people around you, you’d lose interest, but you never did. After everyone was gone, all you wanted was to cuddle up to her on the couch and watch your favourite movie with her. You always preferred her to anyone else, chose to stay home and try new recipes, rather than go out and she thought that perhaps this thing you felt for her was serious.

And once that knowledge settled inside her, it no longer bothered her. And with acceptance came something else. Something she never thought she had in her. A kind of curiosity of her own.

Obviously, she was flattered to know you had such feelings for her. You were a young, sweet thing, your life was just starting and she… How could she take advantage of you?

Then again, you didn’t make it easy for her. The way young girls did, you flirted boldly, openly and in gestures of sudden bravery. You flaunted yourself to her whenever you got the chance. Wearing skimpy bathing suits and even asking her to fix the strings for you, asking her to go shopping with you and dragging her into lingerie stores, showing her different sets and asking her opinion, wearing short dresses and tight shorts whenever she was around, which happened to be all the time… Asking her to watch scary movies with you in your room, cuddling into her in nothing but your panties and a t-shirt and then asking her to stay when you were too scared to stay alone.

Ugh, you were a tease. She’d feel you wiggle unnecessarily, so you’d “settle” and you’d blush furiously anytime she so much as looked at you. She’d wake up with your back pressed against her front, your ass pressed up against her as you slept happily, and every time you’d pull one of those stunts, she’d feel you chip away at her resolve.

You were so soft, so sweet, such a delicate thing, your skin smooth and flawless under her fingertips. Whenever you’d ask her to stay with you, falling asleep on her shoulder, she couldn’t help but stroke the exposed skin of your bare arms, the length of your thighs, just to feel you. It was a small action, was it not? Done out of curiosity. And it soothed her to be able to get this small thing for herself, since she had promised herself not to take you entirely.

Your last year of high school passed like that, with you parading yourself and eventually Wanda broke. She told herself she’d never make a move on you. It was wrong, but she needed an outlet for her frustration. That’s how she first spent a night thinking of you while she touched herself. Not that thoughts of you hadn’t crossed her mind before, but she always pushed them away. But when she no longer could, that one action broke the dam.

The images of you flooded her mind constantly and she found herself seeking relief in the privacy of her bedroom, imagining she had you to play with. She thought of all the gloriously depraved things she could do to you, the things she could teach you and all the ways she could corrupt you. It would be so sweet.

It got worse as your feelings progressed and she’d often wake to the sounds of your moans in the middle of the night. The first time such a thing happened she rushed to your room, thinking maybe you’re in pain, only to see you sprawled on your bed, legs spread wide and your hand moving furiously in your panties. You thought you were being quiet, that you were being subtle, but honestly, she could sometimes make out the way you called her name as you made yourself cum.

Now, looking in her drawer of toys and realizing what you’d done, she tried to let it go, but she just couldn’t. You went behind her back, sneaked into her bedroom, snooped through her things, used her toys and masturbated on her bed. As much as she was impressed by your boldness and surprised to find that your desire for her went that far, she was furious. You didn’t even have the decency to hide it well! Why didn’t you just wash the toy and put it back? Did you still have it? Ugh, she was angry!

She knew you probably didn’t mean for it to go this far, but she just couldn’t help it. How was she meant to stay away from you, to keep her resolve and refrain from marching down and fucking you senseless, when you did such things? She had to teach you a lesson.

Her fingers clenching over the edge of the drawer, knuckles turning white, Wanda was ready to slam it shut and storm down the stairs, when her eyes landed on a pink remote control. It was for the dildo you had used and she was surprised you hadn’t taken that too, before she realized you probably had no idea it had a vibrating function. Or maybe you hadn’t gotten that far. Who knows? Either way, an idea sparked into her head and she decided to test a theory and if she was right, tonight she’ll teach you a lesson and pay you back for every time you’d teased her, every time you paraded yourself in front of her, every time you tempted her and made her crave you.

In the back of her head, she knew what this decision meant. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. If she went through with it, she’d go all the way. Closing her eyes and breathing in, she tried to think clearly, but she had reached the end of her restraint, the end of her self-control. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t want this anymore. She had to have you.

Taking the small remote control, she put it in the pocket of her sweats and she walked down the stairs. She found you prepping the vegetables, just as she asked, your cheeks still flushed, but you tried to act as normal as possible. With a smile, Wanda did the same, starting to make the dough for the homemade pasta and starting up a light conversation with you.

“So, honey, what did you do today?” She asked sweetly.

“Oh you know, just normal things…” You trailed off as your legs squeezed together.

“Yeah? Did you finish the new book I told you about?”

“No, not yet. But almost. I’m so excited to see what happens.” You tried to feign interest, but Wanda knew you. You hadn’t read a page. “What about you, did you have a nice day?”

“Nice isn’t how I’d describe it. But I’m glad to be home.” She responded shortly. “You know, sweetie, why don’t you get the sauce started and leave it on the stove, I’ll watch it while I make the dough and you can sit down. You still look a little flushed.” She suggested and you sighed with relief at her offer, doing as she asked, finishing as quickly as possible and making your way to a chair in the kitchen, sitting down and watching her cook, the way you have so many times before.

Except, as soon as you sat, you realized it was a mistake. The dildo, still nicely nestled inside you, was pressed against the surface of the chair and pushed as deeply as it could go, causing you to let out a small whimper at the feeling of being so full and even with her back to you, Wanda knew that her suspicion was right.

“What was that, dear?” She turned to look at you for a moment, your legs squeezing together so tightly your muscles shook.

“N-nothing…” You stuttered out, a hand gripping the edge of the table.

My, you were so responsive. You must have been close, if you were this worked up. How delightful. Wanda was going to have so much fun with you.

Unaware of how closely you were being watched, or of the wicked plan your stepmother had formulated for you, you started to gently rock on the chair, the movement bringing brief relief to the aching between your legs. But Wanda wasn’t going to let you just fuck yourself right in front of her. If anyone was going to fuck you tonight, it was going to be her.

Reaching into her pocket, she felt around for the buttons of the remote control and she turned it on and let it start at the lowest setting. Your reaction was instantaneous. You gasped, trying to do it quietly and softly, but she heard you none the less.

Feeling the dildo start to vibrate had you stiffen on the chair. God, did your slow grinding press the start button on the device? It was possible. Now you felt the gentle hum of the lowest setting and it drove you crazy. Perhaps with some concentration you could ignore feeling the toy inside you, but you couldn’t contain yourself like this. It was nestled at the deepest parts of you and vibrating against an especially sensitive spot and it had you shaking.

“Wanda, I think I’m going to lie down.” You suddenly said, swallowing hard and preparing yourself to stand.

“Oh, sweetheart!” She gasped when she turned to you. You looked a mess and it was absolutely breath-taking. She always wanted to see you like this. Now that she was so close, she wasn’t going to let you slip away so quickly. “What’s wrong? You seem even more flushed. And your forehead is so hot, baby, maybe you should lie down on the couch, so I can take care of you.” She suggested with concern. “I’ll bring you a cool cloth for your forehead and a glass of water.” She suggested, offering you her hand and guiding you to the couch.

“No, you don’t have to do that, I’ll just lie down upstairs for a bit.” You tried to protest, following her lead on instinct, despite your wish to escape to your room, but she was having none of it.

“But, sweetie, you can barely walk.” She argued, guiding you to the couch. “Look at that, you’re shaking. Lie down here for me, honey. I’ll take care of you.” She suggested, helping you lie down.

She went to grab you a glass of water, just as she promised and, on her way back, she watched you squirm and try to contain the sensations going through your body. When she made you drink at least some of the water, she left the glass on the table and she went to get you a cool cloth for your forehead, but not before sticking her hand in her pocket and increasing the speed of the vibrator.

A loud moan graced her ears just as she did it and she could hardly contain her smirk as she walked back to you.

“Now, honey, you stay here and rest and I’ll go check on dinner and I’ll be right back, ok?” She explained with a soft voice and she stroked your cheek affectionately, basking in the state you were in.

Your cheeks were burning with a mixture of arousal and shyness, your whole body squirming with need, even your hips bucking, when you thought Wanda wasn’t looking, loving the stimulation, yet needing so much more. Fuck, she could play with you like this for hours. If she had it her way, she’d strip you down first, of course, but there was plenty of time for that later. She’d watch you writhe and make you beg to be allowed to cum, push you to admit what you did and then tease you some more as punishment for it. And once you’ve surrendered, she’d make you cum over and over again, until you can’t take anymore. She’ll take your shaking little body upstairs and help you get cleaned up, so she can cuddle you to sleep. But she was getting ahead of herself.

She went to check on the pasta and the sauce you were making, stirring the pots and making sure that it wouldn’t get burned. She often looked at you at the corner of her eye, watching you writhe and, deciding to take pity on you, she clicked the off button on the remote control in her pocket, seeing you instantly settle in both relief and frustration. It was obvious you wanted more, that you needed that orgasm badly, but you didn’t want to get caught and Wanda smirked to herself. She’ll make you beg for an orgasm soon enough.

In the next minutes she let you rest, while she set up the table and finished dinner, not wanting to overwhelm you too much too early. She came over to you carefully, checking to see if you managed to put yourself together and you indeed looked much better. The frustration from the teasing and edging was obvious, but other than that you were holding up quite well and she smiled.

“Hey, honey, how are you feeling?” She asked softly. “Do you think you can come to the dinner table, so we can eat, or should I bring your food here?” She suggested, smiling.

“I’ll come to the table.” You agreed, removing the damp cloth from your forehead and taking her hands, so you could stand.

“Ok, baby, wash your hands and let’s eat.” She smiled softly at you.

Once you settled, poorly hiding a whimper when the dildo was once again pressed into your depths and against your most sensitive spots, you struggled to find topics for a conversation, but Wanda distracted you, telling you about her day and keeping your mind occupied while you ate. It was still hard to keep your urge to grind down on the toy sometimes, especially when Wanda would look at you with those pretty green eyes and swirl the wine in her glass, before sipping it. How could she be so sensual without even trying?

“Wanda, I think I’ll head upstairs. I feel tired.” You tried to excuse yourself after the meal was finished.

“Oh, really?” She said with disappointment in her voice. “You sure? I was thinking we could watch a movie together.” She suggests, pouting at you cutely and melting your heart.

“I don’t know…” You hesitated, wanting to stay, but feeling your walls contract around the dildo inside you and almost making your legs buckle.

“Maybe for a bit?” She offered with hope in her eyes. “You lie down and pick anything you want to watch and I’ll make us some popcorn. If you’re still not feeling well, I’ll help you upstairs.”

You tried to refuse her, you really did, but the truth was, that you could never say “no” to Wanda Maximoff. She was your greatest weakness and you knew you’d do anything she asks, no matter what, so you settled onto the couch, searching through the movie options and finding one that looked promising, while she brought over the big bowl of popcorn she made, sitting down next to you and pulling you into her side, just as she always did, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

You played the movie, trying to distract yourself and reminding yourself that all you had to do is get through the movie with her and then you’ll go to your room and have all the orgasms you wanted. It was just a couple of hours with Wanda.

But you’d barely gotten through the intro, when the vibrator came to life with a sudden buzz and you had to refrain from grinding against the couch at how good it felt. But that’s all the restraint you could show and you quickly realized Wanda was looking at you with concern.

“What’s the matter, sweetie? Is everything all right?”

You barely nodded, pretending to watch, when all you could do was do your best to stay still in Wanda’s hold. God, how did this thing turn on again? How do you stop it, before you have an orgasm, right there, sitting next to the woman you were desperately in love with? Worse! What if she hears the vibration? Could she hear it right now?

It was driving you crazy and holding back became increasingly difficult as time passed, your breathing going more erratic and just when you thought that it will happen, regardless if you wanted to or not, the vibrations suddenly stopped.

“Did you say something, honey?” Wanda turned to you once more, making you realize that you had whined pretty loudly.

“N-no.” You stutter out, shaking your head and she barely contains the smirk forming on her face, before it gives away just how much she’s enjoying this.

She gives you a break, letting you calm down, before she turns on the vibrator again, startling you and this time you look at her, trying to see if she actually noticed, but Wanda had her attention on the TV.

The damned thing was driving you crazy, but you couldn’t help a thought that crept into your mind. Why does it keep going on and off? Was it you? You were sitting pretty still… And then another, more shocking thought sparkled in your mind. Could Wanda? No, that was absurd. Even if she found out you took it, how would she know you still had it inside you? Would she do this on purpose?

As you turned to her, studying her expression, you couldn’t imagine Wanda doing such a thing. But you had to know for sure. So you waited for that moment when you got close, your body starting to lose some of its control and just as you were about to fall off the edge, the toy stopped, leaving you desperate and needy, extremely frustrated and utterly shocked. Did she just put her hand in her pocket? Did she have the remote there?

You had a million questions almost clouding your brain and you had no idea how to ask, no idea how to approach that subject, scared that if you were wrong, you’ll give yourself away, when Wanda suddenly turned to you.

“I see you finally figured it out.” She said in a low, raspy voice, smiling. She was almost predatory with the way she was looking at you, her soft green eyes now full of intensity. “Don’t you know that taking someone else’s things without permission is wrong?” She asked, raising a brow at you expectantly.

“I… Wanda… It’s not…” You tried to say something coherent, putting a little distance between your bodies, but you were in a state of shock and you couldn’t find the right words to explain.

“Not what it looks like?” She finished the sentence for you, scoffing. “I highly doubt that. Or are you going to deny that you snooped through my bedroom and took something that doesn’t belong to you?” She asked sternly, her eyes fixing you.

“I… ” You tried again, the words never coming out. “I didn’t mean to!” You tried, knowing it was a useless protest.

“Well, what did you mean to do, sweetness, hm? Come on, explain it for me.” She challenged again, raising a brow at you impatiently.

She gave you some time to collect whatever was left of your thoughts and she waited for you to say something coherent, but nothing actually came. There was no excuse, and you knew it well.

“Wanda… Please.” You said quietly, not even sure what you were asking of her, just knowing that you couldn’t stand the way she was looking at you, couldn’t stand how disappointed she was.

“Should I tell you what I think happened, hm?” She asked, her tone having that stern edge again. And before you could answer, she continued. “Or are you going to tell me yourself?” She asked again, holding up the remote control that was previously sitting in her pocket. “Do you need a little incentive?” She asked with a predatory grin, a slender finger hovering over the start button. “Maybe another edge or two would loosen your tongue?” She suggested, almost turning the device on.

“Oh my God, Wanda, please, no! Please! I can’t take anymore!” You begged pitifully and her heart melted a little, knowing you’ve probably never been edged. Even now you had your legs squeezed together, your eyes fixed on the remote she was holding.

To be fair, Wanda never intended to be cruel with you. She only wanted to be kind towards you, but you had pushed her buttons today and it had brought out a side of her she never wanted to show you. And you had never earned such treatment from her either, so she found it hard to contain her emotions, but she took a deep breath and tried to soften her features.

“Please, I’ll never do that again!” You pleaded.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart.” She said with surprising gentleness, stroking your cheek affectionately. “I’ll make sure of that. But you’ll have to tell me why you did it.” She explained.

“I can’t…” You tried to protest again, voice shaking. How could you explain that you’re in love with her?

“If you can do it, you should be able to talk about it.” Wanda coaxed.

“Please, let me just go upstairs and I’ll clean everything up and…”

“Oh, no, it’s too late for that now.” Wanda interrupted you, knowing where you were trying to go with that thought. “You don’t get to pretend that nothing happened.” She added with a thoughtful expression. “You see… I tried to pretend that I don’t see the way you act, or your little skimpy outfits, or the way you look at me. I tried to pretend that I don’t hear you calling my name at night, when you touch yourself… I tried to stay away and be a good stepmother, a good wife… And then you go and do something like this… Tell me, Y/N, what should I do with you now, hmm?”

Her words, the way she said them… The admission that she knew of your feelings sent you spiralling all over again and you didn’t even know where to begin. What were you meant to say? What did she intend to do? Was she going to tell your father? God, you hoped she wouldn’t. Not even because you were so afraid of him, but because you were so afraid of losing her. You never wanted to lose her.

“It would be so wrong of me to take you.” Wanda continues, talking more to herself now, her words taking a surprising turn. “So wrong… But you make it so hard for me to resist you.” She confessed. “You’ve been driving me crazy.” She said in a low voice, getting closer to where you stood, cupping your chin with her fingers, so she could make sure that you’ll look at her. “Do you know how hard it has been? Watching you offer yourself to me so shamelessly, listening to your moans at night, hearing you call my name and having to stay away from you…” Wanda’s gaze had darkened, making your pussy throb around the vibrator inside you and leaving you even more needy and helpless in her hold. God, you wanted her! “Do you know how many nights I almost didn’t? Do you know how many nights I had to cum to your filthy little sounds, imagining that it was me, making you feel that good?” She asked, searching your face.

You couldn’t believe the words that kept coming out of her mouth, couldn’t believe that she would ever want the same thing you did, that she would even give you the time of day… You wondered if she really meant it. Yet she kept speaking, her words making the ache between your legs almost unbearable and the need to grind against the vibrator nestled inside you harder and harder to resist. You were ready to combust. Fuck, you were ready to let her do absolutely anything and everything to you, just as long as she finally took you.

“Tell me something, honey…” Her words pulled you from your thoughts. “Do you want Mommy to make you feel good? Is that why you pulled this little stunt? Wanted to get my attention?” She asked, watching your eyes go wide at the mention of the title you used, the one you moaned out when you thought of her. “Oh, yes, I know what you like to call me.” She smirked. “It has a very nice ring to it, when you moan it out, touching yourself.”

You could only whine, too scared to admit how badly you needed her, how much you thought of her, how long you’ve waited for this moment, but Wanda didn’t rush. She held your gaze and she searched your eyes, filled with longing, as she let you think this through. If she was going to do this, she would do it right.

“Wanda… Please?” You uttered in almost despair, not knowing how to ask for what you wanted and not daring to hope that you would be lucky enough to get it.

“Please what, sweetheart? What do you want?” She asked softly, her thumb brushing your cheekbone as a way to soothe you. “You’ll have to use your words.” She coaxed, when she saw the way you took her hand, trying to guide it lower, to where you needed her most.

“Mommy…” You whined once more, trying to plead with her, hoping that it will affect her enough to finally make that final move.

Hearing your pleas, hearing that title pass your lips as you looked at her was easily pulling at her heart strings. It was also making her want to ruin you. She couldn’t deny that it did something to her and despite your poor behaviour today, she wanted to be good to you, wanted to care for you, to shower you with the love and affection you deserved, but she couldn’t make that move, not before you asked. She had no intention to be cruel to you, she just wanted to be sure, that you wanted to take that step with her.

“I know you’re feeling shy, dear, but this matters to me.” She said softly. “I need you to know what this means and I need to know that you want it. For that, you’ll have to use your words.” She clarified again, waiting for her words to sink in, but this time she didn’t have to wait long.

“You know I want this. For years I’ve wanted this, wanted you. And I never thought you’d ever see me, the way I see you, but Wanda, if you do… Please, don’t make me wait anymore. Please?”

As soon as she heard that, she leaned forward, capturing your chin with her fingers and looking deep in your eyes, letting the anticipation build between you, before she slowly connected your lips in a gentle kiss. It’s slow and soft, she moves tentatively, bringing her body closer, so she could let her tongue explore you as well, and she’s pleasantly surprised when your hands grip her top, pulling her on top of you.

Just this small contact had your heart fluttering with joy. You never thought this could be your reality. It felt so good to feel her weight against you. You had waited too long for this. You had spent so many endless nights thinking of just this. But Wanda was worth it. To be able to smell her, to taste her for yourself, you would do it all over again.

Her hands were just as gentle as they ran up and down your neck, or buried themselves in your hair and you couldn’t help but moan and whimper as you desperately tried to get more friction and more attention from her.

She was trying to take it slow, letting herself feel the culmination of her longing and just enjoy the way your lips felt, but it just wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel more of you, feel every part of you against her and explore every millimetre of your gorgeous body. This moment between you was long overdue and you both knew it.

Tentatively, she straddled one of your thighs, pressing her knee against your aching core, hoping to provide some much-needed relief to you both, but it only made you needier and more desperate for Wanda to finish what she started.

“Mommy, please.” You whispered softly, breaking the kiss to look up at her with longing and she instantly understood.

As much as you hoped to hold yourself together, as much as you wanted to prolong this moment, scared that if you opened your eyes, she’ll disappear, you couldn’t help the way your pussy throbbed. You had waited hours, teased and edged and filled to the brim with no relief and you couldn’t stand it a second longer. You needed to cum, or you were going to combust.

Wanda met your gaze, her head spinning from how lost she let herself get in your kisses, only to see you in a similar state. The love and adoration in your eyes, all that pent up longing and your pleas were irresistible. She had to indulge you. Then again, she also had to teach you a lesson and it felt right to use this toy. You had started all this by taking it after all.

With a devilish grin, Wanda reached into her pocket, feeling for the remote control and blindly pressing the start button. She felt the toy come to life with a sudden buzz, the vibrations dull against her knee, but from the way you gasped at the sensation, she could tell you were having a much more intense experience and she let it continue its work, while she took you in a deep kiss.

When it became too hard to keep up with her, your mind too distracted by the pleasure, she started to kiss her way down your body, kissing your neck and helping you grind against her, elated to hear the way you moaned and whimpered from every small touch. God, you were gorgeous.

“Look at you.” She admired you with a soft smile. “I’m about to make you fall apart, while fully dressed and without a single touch to your pussy.” She rasped, her hands massaging your breasts through the fabric of your dress and bra.

Her words made your cheeks burn and pulled another whine from you, yet you couldn’t deny how hot it was, or how badly you wanted it. In fact, they only made you grind against her more, trying to pull her in for another kiss, desperate to feel her against you.

She was right too. You were shaking beneath her, your movements turning more erratic, the closer to your edge you would get, and knowing that once you were there, you wouldn’t be able to stop it.

“Mommy, please I want to cum.’’ You pleaded softly. “Please, don’t stop it this time.”

“So pretty when you beg.” Wanda smirked. “You wanna cum, my darling?”

“Yes, want to cum so badly.”

“If you want to cum, you have to promise Mommy some things first.” Wanda explained, removing a strand of hair from your face. “First: You’ll never take Mommy’s toys again without permission.” She stated sternly. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mommy, I promise.” You nodded, body squirming under her intense gaze. God, you were close.

“Second: No more touching yourself. And no more cumming unless you have Mommy’s permission either.” She explained while she trailed soft kisses down your neck. “Understood?”

“Yes! Yes, I understand.” You almost screamed, your hips stuttering against her. “Fuck!”

“Good.’’ She smiled triumphantly. She could probably get you to agree to just about anything right now. “But most importantly, no one else is allowed to see you like this, to touch you like this, to feel you and fuck you and kiss you the way I can. You’re all mine, got it?” She almost growled in your ear, one of her hands tangling in your hair to make you look up at her.

“Yes! God, yes! I don’t want anyone else, Mommy, just you. Please! I just want to be yours. Please? Can I be yours? Can I please cum?” You spoke in a high-pitched tone, your desperation reaching new hights as you heard the possessiveness in her voice.

Wanda could tell you were seconds away from your orgasm and the smile that spread over her face when she reached into her pocket, stopping the vibrator, could only be described as evil. She found it amusing that you would think that she’d let you cum like this, with a toy you had taken from her, instead of getting to feel you for herself.

“Oh my God, no, no no…” You whined, tears prickling your eyes as the sting of denial hit you full force. It was horrible, being so close, yet unable to finish. If Wanda wasn’t right on top of you, you would have reached down, trying to finish it yourself. At the same time the pleasure that burned through you, unyielding and demanding was somehow sweet.

“How does that feel, my sweet girl?” Wanda asked with a calm, self-satisfied tone that had chills run down your spine. Something told you that she would love to do this to you again. “Frustrating, right?”

“Yes.” You whined, as your nails dug into her arms, as the orgasm you had built started to dull down and fade.

“That’s what it felt like, every time you teased me.” She explained with a growl. “That’s what it felt like, to find out you took something of mine without my permission.” She added, as she took down your panties, her eyes zeroing in on the pink vibrator nestled inside you. “I’ll do much worse, if you try something like that again.” She snarled, the threat clear in her voice.

“I wouldn’t Mommy, I promise.” You squirmed under her inquisitive eyes.

“Learned your lesson, huh, my darling?” She smirked, pulling out the dildo as well, discarding it on the floor carelessly, so she can admire your sweet pussy. You were so beautiful like this. Legs spread wide, slick folds on display and your desperate pussy twitching with need and excitement. You were perfect. “Then let me show you how good I can be to you.”

With a smile, she teased her fingers over your sensitive folds, playing with your clit and pulling small moans from you, before she eased her digits inside you. Your tight walls accepted her gladly, fluttering and pulsing around her happily and a string of moans filled her ears. She curled them experimentally, looking for your sweet spot and it didn’t take long to find it, your back arching off the couch in delight.

“Yeah, that’s your spot, isn’t it? Right there.” She emphasized her words, by pressing on it again.

“Yes, right there!” You sighed, back arching as the pleasure inside you started to grow again.

Wanda’s fingers were even better than the toy, stretching you deliciously, as they moved just the way you liked and you couldn’t believe that you had lived so long without getting to experience them.

Her hungry eyes were stuck on the view of her fingers moving in and out of you, your juices sticking to the palm of her hand, that she made sure to press against your clit at each stroke. It was obscene how much you reacted to her, how badly you needed her and you tried to pull her closer, so you’d hide in the crook of her neck, but she wouldn’t let you.

“No need to be embarrassed, darling. Mommy loves to see how good she makes you feel.” She husked, but gave in none the less, wanting to feel you close to her.

She peppered soft kisses on your cheeks and jaw, trailed them down your neck and against your ear as you moaned for her, clawing at her clothed back and it took everything in her not to stretch you out with a third finger. When your walls tightened around her, gripping her hard, she knew you were getting close again, your insatiable little pussy just begging her for more.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” She asked sweetly. “Are you going to make a mess all over my fingers?”

“God, yes!” You gasped, trying to pull her impossibly closer.

“Show me.” Wanda husked, claiming your lips in another kiss, nestling even closer to you, pulling your legs around her waist, so she could press against you snugly, almost folding you in half as her fingers worked your G-spot.

The position was surprisingly intimate, your body trapped under Wanda. It felt snug and safe, all your senses surrounded by her. You could smell her perfume, see the curtain of her soft, wavy hair falling around you, taste her as she kissed you, feel her deep inside you as you reached your edge with soft moans of pure pleasure.

When you finally fell over it, she helped you ride the waves of extasy, her fingers never stopping their movement. You were writhing under her, but she held you down effortlessly, until you gave her everything you had to offer and she pulled out of you with a contented grin.

“That’s my good girl.” She praised, lifting up her fingers to inspect them and slowly putting them in her mouth, so she could clean them up. “And so delicious too.” She added happily.

For a moment she contemplated letting you rest, but her own arousal was driving her crazy, the wetness in her panties a stark reminder of how badly she needed some relief. But it wasn’t just that. She hadn’t even properly undressed you yet, hadn’t had a chance to taste you from the source. She wanted to do so many things to you…

“Thank you.” You purred like a happy cat, stretching a little from underneath her.

“Such good manners.” Wanda mused. “Always such a good girl for me.” She smiled, noting the way you beamed proudly at her praise. “Think you can help Mommy undress you?” She asked, waiting for your happy nod of consent and your eager adjustment, so you can help her lift off your dress and discard it.

For a moment you felt a little insecure about yourself, despite the many times you had paraded yourself in front of Wanda, but she didn’t let you dwell on it for too long. She kissed you deeply, her lips never leaving yours, while her hands reached behind you and unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere behind her, while her hands explored you. Your skin was so soft to her touch, your body responding to every little caress and begging for more.

You were gorgeous in this state and she wanted to show you just how much she truly loved you, wanted to show you how deep her feelings really went, wanted you to know that this meant everything to her. You meant everything to her.

“Can I see you too, please?” You asked shyly, while she massaged your breasts, eyes fixed on them hungrily.

“Of course, darling.” She smiled knowingly, probably realizing how shy you must feel, being the only one naked. “Do you want to do it, or should I?”

“May I?” You practically beamed at her, sitting up in anticipation.

“Of course, sweetness.” Wanda smiled softly, stopping her movements, so she could give you some space.

Undressing Wanda was almost a spiritual experience. Each item of clothing you were able to remove revealed more of her beauty to your adoring gaze and she felt the swell of pride when she watched you take in every curve with admiration. It felt so good to be admired so openly and she allowed you to take your time, to kiss and caress her, as you shed her clothing.

When you unclasped her bra, freeing her breasts, you almost drooled at the sight of them. Perky nipples stood at attention, begging to be worshipped and you barely had time to ask if she’d let you, before you did just that. Capturing each breast in your palms, you swirled your tongue over her nipples, sucking on them gently and smiling when you pulled soft sighs of pleasure from the older woman.

As you finally reached her underwear, lacy, red panties fully capturing your attention, you couldn’t help but gasp, when you found her just as wet as you were.

“Do you like seeing that, honey? Do you like knowing you make me this wet? Do you like knowing that every night I heard you call out to me, I got just as wet, touching myself to the thought of making you mine? Does it excite you, knowing that you caused all this?”

“Yes, Mommy! I always wanted you just like that. Always wanted to know how you would feel, what you would taste like, if I could have you in my mouth.” You confessed, remembering each time you fantasized that Wanda would find you with your hand between your legs and give you exactly what you wanted.

“Well, now that you have me, have a taste.” She nodded happily, helping you take off her panties and spreading her legs, to give you a good view of her soaked folds.

Instead of answering, you just kneeled, slipping off the couch effortlessly and finding your place between her legs. With the sight of her soaked panties and the delicious smell of her reaching your nostrils, you could already feel your mouth water. There was something so erotic about having her above you like this.

Wanda looked as regal as a queen as she let you take her in in all her glory. Darkened, green eyes never looked away from you, as she left everything on display. And by all the gods, she was magnificent. Everything about her was pure perfection and you were happy to stay right there, on your knees, forever, worshipping and admiring her, if it wasn’t for the hand, that soon tangled itself in your hair, pulling you closer to her.

She leaned in, kissing you fully and only pulled away, when you both needed to breathe.

“Don’t make me wait too long.” She said as she leaned back against the couch, the hand in your hair pulling you forward and closer to where she wanted you.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” You smiled, moving forward on your own and taking a small experimental lick.

Her reaction was instantaneous, her fingers tightening their grip and pulling you all the way, until your mouth was flush against her. She sighed with satisfaction, her legs spreading wider, to give you more room to explore her and by God, she tasted so good. You wanted to devour her whole.

“Yeah, that’s better!” She sighed, her hips canting up against your mouth, as your tongue swirled over her clit. “Just like that, baby.”

Her praise was almost hypnotic, sparking something inside you, an urge to be better than all her other lovers, to show her that you’re worth all this, that you would earn the privilege to be hers. To show her that you would learn what made her feel good, what made her moan out in pleasure, what had her screaming and bucking her hips into your mouth. You’d learn it all and you’ll give it to her, just so she would call you her good girl again.

“Fuck, yes!” She cursed under her breath. “So fucking good with your mouth.”

Her hand in your hair kept you firmly against her, nails scratching at your scalp as Wanda guided you through what she wanted. And she wasn’t shy about it either. The closer she got, the more she used you for her pleasure, her legs planted on your shoulders as she rode you even more.

“Fingers, honey. Put your fingers inside me.” She spoke breathlessly, almost suffocating you with how much she pushed you into her pussy, when she felt you enter her. “Yes, just like that!” She praised. “Such a good girl. Gonna make Mommy cum so hard.”

The prospect of making her cum had your excitement reach new levels and you doubled your efforts, swirling your tongue around her clit in circles that seemed to drive her crazy. You could feel her walls pulse around your fingers, squeezing you and pulling you in, as far as you could go and you knew she wouldn’t last much longer.

Wanda reached her edge with a high-pitched moan, her thighs squeezing around your head and the hand in your hair tightening its hold on you almost painfully, just as she started to fall apart. The orgasm that built in the pit of her stomach spread like a tidal wave, coursing through her entire body as she shook against you.

She could feel your free hand gripping her thigh, trying to keep her steady as you helped her ride it all out. When she did, body slumping on the couch with a happy sigh, she hurried to pull you up and into her embrace. Getting to cum with your mouth and fingers felt so much better than the empty nights she spent with her toys and she knew she wouldn’t be able to give you up, even for a second.

When she was able to recover, she got up, helping you to your feet with a gentle hand.

“Let me take you upstairs, sweetheart.” She suggested. “I believe you had an interest in my collection?”

Her words were full of innuendo and you practically leaped, following her up the stairs and only stopping in front of her bedroom.

“Wanda?” You looked up at her, a little insecure.

“Yes, darling.” She paused, at hearing her name pass your lips, instead of the title you chose to give her.

“Is this…” You tried to ask, but couldn’t find the right words, biting your lips in anticipation. “Does it mean…”

“You mean everything to me, Y/N.” She said reassuringly, clearly understanding what you wanted to ask.

She had spent her whole life looking for love like yours. For someone, who would worship her the way you did. And now that she had it, she couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. Couldn’t imagine ever sharing you with another soul, or letting anyone ever touch you the way she did. As soon as she kissed you, she knew that she will commit to you for good.

“Do you mean it?” You looked at her with hopeful eyes. “Because I…”

“So do I, my darling.” She smiled softly at you, knowing that neither one of you was ready to admit it just yet.

The two of you stood there, in front of her door, for a few moments longer, just smiling at each-other, letting your eyes say the things you couldn’t form into words, before you couldn’t stand the tension any longer.

“May I kiss you again?” You asked a little shyly, fighting the urge to hide into her again.

Wanda’s smile only widened. She opened her door, the soft light from within illuminating the perfectly pristine space, as she pulled you closer to her.

“Come inside, sweetheart and you can do so much more than just kiss.”

______________________________________________________

I just might have to make a part 2 to this fic, because there is just so much left unsaid here... But at least I get to share the beginning with you guys! Let me know what you think!

If you liked this story and you want more, please visit the Masterlist with all my works. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: Image not mine. I'd happily give credit to the owner if I knew who they were :)

#writing #lesbian #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #bottom!reader #top!wanda #scarlet witch

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eccentricallygothic · 2 months ago

Text

|| Wrong Turn ||

Pairing: Mountain Man Silver Fox Nomad!Steve Rogers | You.

Trope: Neat and clean ‘civilized’ Princess-like young trophy wife X Filthy beast of a wild and scary man who only got her because he has the power.

Description: In a desperate attempt to save your life from the wrath of the mountain people that your friends and you stumbled upon and accidentally killed on a hike gone wrong, you had to offer yourself up to their Leader to use as a ‘resource’. But little did your ‘husband’ know, you had been actively getting rid of his seed to avoid actually getting pregnant. Naturally, when he does find out, he is very unhappy… And also very determined to make sure you don't make it out of your punishment without a child, or two.

Warning(s): Dubcon, barbaric!Steve, breeding kink (gone wild), unprotected p-in-v, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, missionary, he has a wife bod kink (but it is inclusive), misogyny, smut with perhaps too much plot, fear kink, size kink, exhibitionism, possessiveness, jealousy, age gap, hair pulling, spanking, biting, allusions to painal and Steve being a teasing sicko about it but he doesn't actually penetrate, overstimulation, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, boob play, squirting, Lloyd makes an appearance with his own young bride, dacryphilia (it's me), self degradation, Stevie is a perverted old meanie, infantilization, mind break.

Disclaimer: Very loosely based off of the movie that I do not own. You don't need to know it to read this piece but do note that it takes place in a fictional setting. Minors do not interact.

Inspo-ish: This post.

Note: For someone who was on their period, I should not have been this horny. But I need this marriage, now. Ps, though this rotted in my drafts for a long time… in honor of Chris growing out his beard again, ig.

MASTERLIST

. . .

You have no idea how long it has been since that fateful twilight when everything changed in your life, leaving you to a lifestyle you could never have even imagined for yourself.

“Eat up, woman” but as your barbarian of a husband commands you in his rough and animalistically deep voice, you cannot help but break out of your reverie and shudder at the sight of the barely cooked meat piled high on the platter in front of the two of you. “So you can bear me healthy children” although you're the one who was made to prepare his beastly dinner -that never fails to leave you aghast when it's gorged down- as you're his wife, you cannot help but gag under your breath and feel disgust for the loaves that sit before you in the company of a tall stone carved jug that brims full of the foul smelling mead that your husband is ardently fond of.

You muster up your best coy smile. Keeping up the appearance of a happily mated pair is important. Or people stare. And then the old man becomes unpleasant. “I had quite a lot while I was cooking, dear” your lies sting your tongue out of the fear you feel of getting caught, but the mere hope of not doing so is better than eating this. “Y- You go ahead” you slowly turn in his muscle hardened lap, that you are always to sit on, to give him a small smile but your expression almost transforms into one of horror because of how wildly your heart jumps at the sight of his stern, predator-like face. You are quick to recover though, as it is a usual occurrence.

“You need it. You work so hard—” there is just something about his rough looks that never fails to send a chill down your spine. You have never seen anything, let alone an actual human man like him before.

A beard as thick as the very forest his people populate and as dark as the nights can get here in the absence of lanterns due to the heavy trees, age that streaks some of his gold locks with its silver has not marred the sternness of his jaw that remains firmly set under the heavy mane of his facial hair. His shoulders seem akin to the mountains that surround his village and his piercing dark eyes the mysterious waterfall that flows some way down south from the entrance of the settlement. The frightening mass of his shoulders is so toned that if the barely noticeable wrinkles that sometimes appear under the dark of his eyebrows and next to the crow-feather like lashes that frame his eyes, he can easily be mistaken for a man in his primeful late twenties and no older. His unrelenting strength and wolfish stamina would only further serve to bear testament to the misconception.

Your strict husband bluntly catches your shaky hand that you extend in his direction to feed him some of the meat, the force that he uses coupled with the coarseness of his skin making you jump. You bite back a yelp and whimper when you look up at his dark blue eyes from where you were watching his bearded mouth to carefully place the food in.

“I don't care” Steve does not care much for being polite -unless it is you who disregards it in your behavior-, especially when it comes to you denying or diverting his ‘care’ for you. “You eat more” you bite back the scowl that threatens to break onto your face from how he turns your hand around in your direction instead. “Wives always need to eat more. They do so much at home for husband and children” he probably feels proud of these ‘values’ that have been transmitted to him by his elders. But all they make you want to do is to crack him across the jaw for being a misogynistic and backward shithead. Especially with you.

Your ‘husband’ believes that everyone has a role to play; a contribution to make to their people and home. That is how this archaic village of theirs has survived in these mountains hidden away from the rest of the world for so long.

The greasy piece of a disturbing excuse of a rare steak touches your lips and you've been here long enough to know better than to argue or worse yet, fight. So you smile and lean into his arm that cases your form against his through the embrace he holds you in from behind, his fingers playing with one of the many flowered braids your attending ladies had put in your hair a bit before his arrival at ‘home’.

“O- Of course” you reluctantly open your open and grip your flowy dressing gown for a semblance of support for your sanity, taking the smallest bite you can -which is still a lot as the man pushes nearly the whole piece into your mouth the moment you open up- as you keep your eyes trained on his to avoid looking down. Your mind always becomes more aware of the taste when you look. “Thank you, dear” you focus on swallowing it without gagging and feel your smile split in places because of how uncomfortable you are.

He probably notices it because he slightly raises one eyebrow and snorts before hugging your smaller form -that is tiny compared to his- closer and puts the rest of the piece in his own mouth. If there is one thing you have learnt in your time with him, it's that you can never fool him. Not really. No matter how well you may think you have lied or pretended, he always sees through it.

Sometimes you suspect he even enjoys it.

Steve finally begins to eat himself, silently offering you another piece that you politely reject by shaking your head and then quickly pressing an apologetic kiss to his scruffy cheek to lighten the blow. Apparently, a wife can never be polite enough to her husband. And though the change in his expression begins with an unhappy frown, your show of ‘affection’ seems to suffice him and he relaxes in satisfaction, now looking down the long table and at his clansmen and maidens that sit enjoying their dinner, their chatter and laughter a dull roar in the large eating hall of the Leader's dwelling. You pick up the heavy jug of mead with both your hands and obediently hold it to his lips to sip from. Steve looks away from what one of his main men are saying and gulps down a mouthful, rubbing your back as a gesture for thanks before moving his hand quickly down to squeeze your ass to heighten the effect of his expression of gratitude.

His form shakes in mirth when you yelp and blush. He knows how embarrassing you find being openly ‘affectionate’ in front of people and that is one of the reasons why he enjoys it so much besides showing off that a thing of such beauty and youth like you is all his. You rest the jug between your boobs that he has fucked and squeezed into increasing in size and use your other hand to gently finger and stroke his golden locks that he keeps pushed away from his face outside the bedroom. Though he says nothing, you feel his usually vigilant and always firm stature slowly soften and you cannot help but smile, though what he says next quickly deflates it.

“Do you feel any change in you, wife?” You know what it means and now it's you who becomes tense. He only uses that name for you when he speaks to you as a husband inquiring about your marital matters. “Has my seed attached to your womb yet? Does it grow there?” You gulp and feign shyness, moving closer to his hair and nuzzling yourself in him. “Hm?” He closes his hugging arm around you and reaches for your stomach, fingers groping your covered skin as gently as he can -which isn't much- to feel it. “Answer me” he demands when you refuse to speak.

“I… I don't know, husband” you always promise yourself that you'll demand more rights for yourself; ask him to treat you like the other husbands treat their wives, only to fail the minute he enters your vicinity.

“What does that mean?” His tone turns blunt and you whimper at the tightness that snaps back in place between his shoulders.

You get it.

That was the deal, after all.

Healthy children in exchange for your life that was required by their judicial laws for bearing false witness to your friend accidentally killing one of their people in mistaken defense. Steve had promised you before accepting you as a citizen that if you failed to fulfill your task you'd walk the darkness in the dungeons. He had shown you how it would be before declaring you a member of their tribe and the sight you had seen was something that had given you nightmares for days.

But that did not mean you actually wanted to have your old captor's children.

You doubted it would ever be something you'd look forward to.

“I- I mean” regret shoots up your spine in the form of fear and you lose your speech to it momentarily. But then two of your main attending ladies -by that you mean Steve's top agents when it comes to you- enter the horizon of your sight and you hurriedly blubber out the first thing that comes to your mind. “I've n- never been pregnant before, s-o I d- don't know how to…” Your husband turns to look at you, his handsome features twisting into a rogue scowl but before he can scold you, one of the two ladies, Kaira, speaks in their language to Steve.

Not everyone here can speak English and those who do speak it do so a rather odd version of it. Naturally, you don't speak their language and so they give you the full experience of an outsider when they need to discuss the business they want to keep private from you. The thought makes you want to laugh, like you'd be able to do something with whatever informations they withhold.

But it doesn't really bother you, because you don't care.

You've also learnt that ignorance is bliss here.

Especially for someone like you.

Better to be the doe eyed trophy wife of an angel who can't tell her head from her ass.

“Is that so?” Your heart jumps when Steve chooses to speak English. That means that this definitely concerns you. You place the mead down and wrap one arm around his broad shoulders before nervously combing his thick beard with your other hand. Since you have no interest in or desire to learn their language, the only word you manage to pick up on when you focus really hard is ‘baby’ and that is solely because of the annoying amount of times it comes up for you.

“Is not this strange?” He speaks once the women step back after finally ending the nerve wracking conversation that seems to go on forever. “Do you hear what they say about you, little one?” Fuck, you're definitely in trouble.

He is reminding you of your place.

You put on your best charming smile but you're painfully aware that your nervousness gives it away. You can feel it. “W- What do they say, dear?” They were such bitches. They knew how to speak English, that's why they were your attendants, but yet they chose not to. And now they were glaring at you like you weren't above them— oh no, not these thoughts again. You will never become like them! No, no!

Steve pushes his plate away now. Your head spins from the realization. It's only half finished. Your husband never wastes his food. It is a near sin for them to do so. “They tell me the most odd things” oh just fucking tell me! You mentally scream but outwardly tilt your head to the side in confusion, your chest vibrating with the rising beats of your heart. “And now that I think about it myself…” His fingers wrap around the mead before he raises it to his lips. “I see the—”

“What did they say, Steve?” Your mouth works faster than your better sense and he pauses mid sip, dark blue eyes flickering up from the stone jug to look at you. Your face flushes a noticeable hot and your ears get sweaty from the awareness.

Fuck.

“They say you've been getting rid of my seed” he feels played and thus angry at the both of you. Perhaps more so towards himself than you; his silly little child-wife. How could he let a thing as tender and small as you fool him so? “... Do you?” It is obvious you are guilty. Besides, he is confident that his people would never lie to him unlike one young and beautiful girl that he had found kneeling in front of him in his court while bawling her eyes out one fateful night, fear stricken as his people surrounded him like a doe trapped.

And of course, your expressions and reactions don't help your case, as always. “W- What? No…” Your mind becomes erratic.

“No?” He himself knows not what kind of a chance he offers you with that. But typical to your nature, you make it easy for him by refusing it.

“N- No! Of course not! W- Why would I ever do such a thing to m- my husb- hubby and my b- babies?!” Steve has to clench down his scoff.

“You wouldn't, would you?” Your naivete never fails to amuse him.

“No! I- I don't know why they accuse me so—” you mend your speech from the archaic form that tries to leech to it everyday. “I don't know why they would accuse me of that but they must be mistaken! This is a misunderstanding!”

He hums. “I see…” His scarred fingers begin to toy with your braids again. “So you remain devoted to me and faithful to our family, don't you?”

“Of course!” You nuzzle closer to him, your heart thundering into his chest. “I don't know why they still treat me like an outsider” you purr as you nervously stroke his hair, playing a card of your own and making an absolute fool of yourself by doing so. “I try my best… like I promised.”

“Yes, your promise” his distant eyes -they get like that when you disappoint him and you hate the sight because it never fares well for you- travel down to your empty stomach. His gaze makes it wrench. Your fear skyrockets at the same rate as your anger. If only there was a way for you to get back at those bitches without having to give birth!

“I- It takes time sometimes, dear…” You hug his shoulders with one arm. “But it will happen. I know it…” Your other hand reaches for his fingers that rest on your abdomen now.

“Oh?” Steve raises one dark eyebrow at you. His hair is the most fascinating combination of blonde and dark brown. “Is that what your modern day sciences say?” His people were not always like this, he had told you. They did not originate from here. Rather, some families had abandoned ‘civilization’ when it was going to hell -in his words- by killing each other for meaningless constructs such as caste, creed and color differences and migrated up here to establish a system of their own; one free from such nonsense.

Apparently.

You take a deep breath. “Stevie—” you only call him that when you find yourself dangerously close to the dungeons.

“If that is what you believe in, wife,” he never cuts you off. Usually, that is. His age that streaks his blonde strands with its silver ones has granted him enough patience. Normally, he waits for the other person -who is most often you- to mess up themselves. But whatever the ladies have told him seems to agitate him into rebelling against his own nature today. “I'll do it your way. After all, happy wife happy life, is that not what you tell me often?” Okay, you might have said that during a particularly cocky moment in bed once.

But the intention behind that had not been nearly whatever he is moving towards now.

“Y- You don't have to, l- love…” You nervously giggle. “You're perfect the way you are” you run your nails that he insists you keep trimmed for hygienic -as if- and practical purposes through his silver-blonde hair.

“Oh no…” Now he pushes his food farther away. “I will indulge you, little one” he moves your other leg over his laps so now you face the people down the table with both of your legs on either sides of his, ass to his… fuck. “Time conspires against us, and so we must make haste.”

Your eyes widen and your heart leaps up in your throat. “M- My love?!”

Steve moves your flowy gown out of his way, keeping a firm hold on one of your thighs even though he doesn't really have to. Your fear of him would never let you attempt an escape. “Yes, my stars” the name is so full of sarcasm it nearly pierces you open. “Let us leave time to its devices, and us ours” your husband is usually a very possessive and private man when it comes to you, but his ire seems to get the better of him today. You hear the buckle of his own clothes come undone. The table goes silent and heads turn in your direction once they realize what's going on. Oh no… Your stomach drops. Not in front of everyone. Not when Steve makes you so vulnerable in that condition. Not in front of these lowlifes!

“Husb—” blood bubbles hot under your cheeks as you feel him align himself against you.

Holy shit.

You feel one of his coarse hands wrap around your throat and he pulls you closer to his mouth so he can whisper in your ear. “You will contribute, my stubborn little wife,” you whimper from the menace his words hold, your well trained cunt obediently squelching open against his thick hard tip as he lowers you on his cock with the hold he has on your thigh. “Whether you like it, or not” sometimes, deep down, you fear that the dungeons are not an option anymore.

He keeps you in the horizons of his sight too much for them to be.

It appears as though the sentence has changed.

It is now Steve, or Steve.

You cry out from the strain his log-like girth puts on the narrow band of your entrance. God. You will never get used to his size regardless of how many times and ways he tames your pussy in. Yes, it does not refuse him or rip around him now as it used to in the beginning -and it did that for a long time- but the size to which his cock makes it expand is like a mini-birth. Feels like it, looks like it. Only, it feels way too good. And that's why you don't mind it—

No. You don't know what that was or meant. But you don't take responsibility for that thought!

“Oh!” The balmy velvet of your cavern grazes down the bulging veins and hard skin of the brute's cock until your petals squish against his heavy and very eager balls. Your head spins when you feel his tip tickle your cervix. It never takes his dick long to find it.

His hands are pushing you back up almost instantly so he can slide you back down. You look anywhere but at the tens of faces in front of you, instead choosing to look at the wall on the opposite side of the table. You never thought these people were capable of being this quiet until now when your pussy makes an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as Steve tugs you back to his leaking tip and then allows gravity to suck you back down. You desperately bite your lips and try to focus on ignoring the way your insides are beginning to thrum with the excitement and stimulation; to show these brutes that you're better than them and aren't some animal of nature. But to no avail. His slimy precum mixes too well with yours, the rough skin of his hands digs into your thighs too well and the manner in which your petals rub against his cock when he lifts you yet again -now forming a momentum- before letting you slide in again is too much for you mask with nonchalance.

Indifference has never been among your strong suits.

“Tell me, my pretty” Steve begins again, his dark eyes now finding the young and hormonal pack of unsuspecting boys who clearly do not know better. “Have you ever had a cock like mine?” He says it in their own language so the foolish miscreants see, understand and learn the fact that you’re only his. You belong to him and he will go to war for you, not that a pack of rug rats will ever be a cause of worry for him. “Has anyone ever fucked you as good as I do?” He switches back to the language you understand, roughly fumbling for your jaw before he grabs it and bounces his hips into yours at the same time.

Your traitorous legs have begun to do what they always do; fuck yourself against him -if he hasn’t bound you, which he hasn’t- in whatever position he has you. You only realize that your breathing has become heavier when you open your mouth to answer. “Only you, my husband! Only you!” Your brain is running too fast for reason or reflection to catch up so you leave wondering why you answer him with the only words he has been able to teach you in his language to later. Your words are muffled as his fingers that grip the lower half of your face nearly slip in your mouth from the disordered urgency of the both of your actions.

“That's right” your mouth falls open and you begin to softly pant in that animalistic way that you detest when he makes you watch yourself in a mirror while fucking you sometimes. In your defense, it is always unintentional on your part; you barely even notice it while taking his fucking. And yet, it is inevitable due to the force he does it with. “Look at you; dutifully fucking yourself up and down your husband's cock like a bitch in heat” a twinge forms in your knuckles from how your fingers hold the edges of the table to aid the gliding of your fuck hole that now slams up and down his cock in a rhythm you're all too familiar with, the smacks of your bare ass slapping against his naked abdomen making appalling noises that you're too worked up to dread over right now. “And you're a bitch in heat for me, aren't you?” His fingers move down from your jaw to your throat. “Wanting to be bred over and over again until you're so full of my children that your little belly is round and heavy to the brim, hm?” In these moments, you tell him anything and everything that he wants to hear.

Steve knows it all too well.

And he loves it.

“Yes!” Your voice disappears midway from how he squeezes your windpipe. His hips meet yours midway now, the wetness of your cunt and the force of his thrusts causing for his balls to try and push past the tight boundary of your sexual cavern. “Yes! Yes! I am! Please!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when his free hand finds your petals to play with. “Ohhh!”

“You want to be bred, don't you?” He rubs your drenched pussy lips while his hard cock pistons in and out of your sopping cunt. “Want to contribute…?” He chokes you once more and this time his fingers pinch one of your pussy lips punishingly at the same time and you cry out. “Provide your husband with a house full of heirs?” The oxygen in your mind depletes and your eyes flutter as a result, cheeks turning red and nerves becoming prominent on your glistening temples. Your horny yet defensive pussy finally relaxes around him a bit so it doesn't hurt his dick and he savours the moment by holding you by the curve between your legs and fucking into your form that gets limp by the moment to push you towards your first orgasm.

It always gets better after that.

For him, at least.

You don't choke him out so much then.

“Y- Yes!” When Steve finally lets go of your throat to let you breathe, you blubber out an an answer obediently once the light returns to your eyes. Your walls stiffen around him once more. But by then he has already worked himself closer to your womb. “Yes! Yes!” It is all your mind can muster.

“Good” he makes a point of taking both of your boobs in his hands and thoroughly massaging them to show off his ownership over you. “Now ask me to breed you” the fence of heat that has formed around your loins becomes tighter when his hands that previously fondled your clothed breasts slip under your gown -for Steve is too possessive to actually expose you to the eyes of others- and he softly rubs your tense sides a couple times before his fingers form pinches around your hard nubs.

“Please breed me!” Your voice is so loud and strained that its quality is nearly blood curdling. “Please breed me and s- stuff me full your children!” Your hands fly to grip his from over the dress as you throw your head back and slip from the edge of your anticipation, parrotting all the words he has taught you over the course of your marriage. “Oh GOD! Please!” Your back arches from the coming undone of the hot belt of expectation and scorching gratification spills from it, seeping down your legs in the form of a nearly unbearable electric feeling that transforms into a subzero energy when it reaches your toes that curl, causing them to feel as though they are freezing. “I need your b- babies so bad, hubby!”

Steve's own ears blush from the heat that courses through them in the form of adrenaline as he snorts, some of his blonde strands coming loose from the push and tug that he plays with your cunt. “Tell them” his balls ache from the strength it takes him not to fill you up right then. “Tell everyone that you want me to fill you up with my babies” since your sensitive body tries to curl and move away from the overstimulation, the older man wraps both of his hands around your thighs to keep you going. “Say it!” And he makes you say the words that he desires in the language of your spectators that look embarrassed for the first time since you got here.

Save for your husband's best men who look equal parts aroused and proud.

You want to cringe and be disgusted but your sensitive pussy is being pounded too hard for you to attempt a conjuring up of any dignity.

“Need hubby babies bad!” You cry out again from memory when Steve's thick seed begins to fill you up at last. “Oh, my God!” The feeling of his hot cum filling you up and painting every inch of your sensitive walls penetrates your already hazy mind and the warmth that steams out of the pearly liquid steams its way up to your womb, making you shudder at the feeling. Your opening tightens around him in protest of the overstimulation and it instead causes for a barrage of bitter-sweet electric sparks to explode through your abdomen in the form of a half post-climax orgasm. Your body grows tired.

But your insatiable is far from done.

“Flattering, but no” Steve pushes you against the table before standing up when he is done fucking his orgasm as deep as he can reach into you. “The father of your children will suffice” your eyebrows furrow at his words but the older man does not give you a chance to ponder over them because now he is hooking his hands under your thighs that your rapid and messy fucking has covered in both of your juices.

“W- What?!” Your vision is hazy and your mind dazed as you incoherently tap about. “What's— oh!” You wince from how much easier it is for him to move inside your worked open and much lubricated but torturously overstimulated walls now. “Oh! Oh…” Your hands blindly feel behind you to try and get him to stop. “Oh, no! No, please!” You cry out weakly, your upper body hanging low in the opposite direction from the exhaustion.

“No?” The older man darkly chuckles, paying no mind to your flailing. “You think you can say that to me?” One of his hands desert their post on your thighs to roughly grab at your hair. He hasn't forgotten what started all this. “You think you have the same rights as everyone else around here, wife?”

But you're scowling from the burning pain in your walls, mind hazy and unwise. “Stop! Stop!” Your puffy folds ache from how his stiff skin rubs against them as he moves in and out of you at a normal pace… for now. “It hurts, stop!”

“That is the part and parcel of having children” your body curves outwards as he pulls you further back and closer to himself by your hair. “And is that not why you're here?” His cocky tone along with the hungry and wondering eyes of the wildlings make you angry. “What you were spared for in the first place?” A twinkle in the eye of a man pisses you off and…

“It hurts, you old bastard!” Your young blood gets the better of you and your mouth runs before sense can catch up. “Stop, stop, stop it!” Since your hair holds you closer to him you manage to land a few smacks to his rock hard arms before you try to snake your fingers under his to pry off the hand that he coils around your thigh in a weak attempt to move away.

Steve only chuckles, clearly unfazed by your fighting as he bounces your smaller form up in the air with each thrust. “Did your mother not teach you anything, wife?” He lets go of your hair only to restrain both your arms on the small of your back. “Good girls never tell their husbands no” your body flops forward again and you've no choice but to face the long table full of people. “They lay down pretty with their legs spread and let their husbands fill them with their children and then they express their gratitude for being granted a family.” Though your mind is confused and rather disoriented from the influx of sensation, you can make out new additions to the crowd of your humiliation from the corners of your vision.

“Ugh!” You grunt from the rapid jabs he gives to your sore pussy, his firm hold nearly searing into your wrists. “I don't wanna have your stupid blonde babies!” Steve breathlessly lets out a real laugh at that. “Let go!”

“There” he can swear he will never tired of you breaking the little character of the obedient wife that you so naively think you have mastered only to break it when he has you all riled up like this. “Right there, easy now” his other hand leaves your lap and he pushes your head down and against the table in the most condescending manner imaginable. Steve has got you to expose yourself for the brat you are, no need for play anymore. “Now I make a bunny out of you” his dark eyes now meet with those of the boys sitting at the other end of the table and his use of their language is a silent message. The Leader knows how his wife is desired. And he doesn't appreciate it in the least. The young males all panic and look away, gulping to themselves and praying for their lives.

You try to struggle again, your lip curling in disdain and protest as you feel him fuck his cum right up your cervix. The bitter pleasure you get from it makes your head spin and your fingers and toes flex defensively. “Ooof!” Your cheek rubs against the table and you puff out your face to express how tense you feel down there.

“Brat” Steve shakes in silent mirth as he reaches for your ass with the hand that he was holding your face down with. “Don't you move a muscle.” You're too busy rocking over the table and being held down to try.

“Hubby, please!” You whine when one of his veins twitch deep up your walls and your knees shiver from the sensation. “Please!” Maybe if his cock wasn't so comically huge, it would have been easier to move past the rough friction of your raw, orgasm worn skins. But it is and so you are ready to abandon the dam that begins to form in your abdomen again if it means to avoid this pain. “Owwwiee!”

“Aw” Steve cooes as he now moves to a pace that falters your vision and causes for the great table to shake with each thrust that he gives you. “So small and sore, aren't we?” The spank he lands on your unsuspecting ass right after is the stark opposite of his tone. “Maybe we shouldn't act out so much when we are so weak and pathetic, huh, wife?”

“Oooof!” One of the shyer ladies get up before she carries her young son who stood next to the group of the young ones away and the realization of the fact that your spectators are all real people who see you everyday and will continue to do after this drips down your limbs like ice cold water. Your hips cannot help but clench from the embarrassment that you dully feel in some part of your mind way far at the back. “Hubby, please!” The spanks increase with each snap of his hips and though the turmoil between your legs takes up most of your sensory powers, your cheeks now begin to noticeably sting from the pain that builds from how the swings of his hand against your poor ass increase with each thrust.

“Please?” Steve muses like he isn't balls deep into you and fucking the literal daylights out of you like a crazed heathen. “Oh, but I thought I was a mean old bastard” of course, your pleas always only mean that you want more, according to the brute you are married to. They cannot mean anything else, apparently. “And you didn't want my stupid blonde babies” you grunt from the frustration and land a helpless fist on the table. You are in an uncomfortable tug of war between the mutilation of your sensory glands and the tall barrage of tight hot anticipation that cannot help but form in the base of your stomach again because of how hard and rough he fucks you.

Your husband's main man, Lloyd, laughs in a comically daft voice to tease you and be the insufferable asshole that he is. “You've got yourself a feisty little pup there, Steve” he is the only one who can refer to the blonde haired man by his name. Or maybe, he doesn't care to use the honorific and his usefulness backs him up. You wouldn't be surprised if the latter really is the case. “Don't you agree, my sweet?” He side hugs his own young bride who ironically is one of the sweetest and perhaps the only nice person in this entire village and Lloyd grins down at the girl whom you now notice is blushing furiously.

Before you can let the humiliation swallow you whole, Steve spreads your burning cheeks and chuckles at the sight he finds glistening and blinking up at him, the madenned hammering of his cock unceasing. “Look at this adorable little button of yours, darling” you are not personally familiar with any of the faces that witness you trying to pathetically crawl away when your devil of a husband begins to tickle your pucker so you realize it was actually not quite hitting you as bad as it does now when you become hyperaware of Rainie's gaze. If it weren't for how your eyes roll because of Steve's hot seed shooting deep up your cavern again and nearly searing into your very flesh this time around from the brutality of it all, you reckon you would have tried to hide. But now all you do is let out choked blubbers as your wide eyes sting from tears due to the sensory overload. “I think it's time we deflowered it, what do you think?”

Oh, no.

His cock is not something that you can handle in your ass without splitting all over the place!

“No answer? No?” It feels as though you are the one who is cumming and not Steve because of how good he is at wearing the mask of nonchalance. “Hm,” he roughly pulls you backwards by your hair before hooking an arm around your waist to keep you from trying to get away from how he toys with your trembling pucker. “Maybe we should let sweet Rainie decide for you, hm—?”

“OH, GOD!” You cannot help but scream over him.

He is too much.

Steve ignores your exclamation, thrusts delayed -more jab like- but so strong that his tip spears into your cervix with each thrust, thus causing for your head to spin from how he chooses to fuck out his orgasm. “She's your friend, isn't she?” Steve's beard gently stings the sweaty and teary skin of your jaw from how his mouth presses into your ear. “Aren't you, Rainie dear?”

Yep, you are never looking her in the eye ever again.

“Answer him, sunshine” Lloyd eggs his wife on and you notice through your cloudy vision that he is making her palm his own bulge. You nearly cringe back into Steve's chest from the obscenity of it all.

The girl, a new bride herself, is shy and small next to her own flesh boulder of a husband as she meekly peeks up at you through her lashes. “Y- Yes, sir. We are friends” her voice is barely audible and both your husbands chuckle.

If it weren't from how a dull orgasm rips itself apart somewhere deep between your loins, you would have felt angry.

It is like the assholes know that you're friends, and they're having their fun with it.

No wonder they are best mates.

“Good, good” you can feel Steve's cum splattering your thighs with each brutal jab, the sound and sprays of his shaft making a mess of your juices underneath your dress ample in its audibility. “So, do you think it's time your girlfriend's dirty little button was opened up, hm?” He keeps one hand on your pucker and reaches for your boob to grope with the other.

Rainie blushes again and furiously lowers her head the moment her eyes connect with yours. Though you don't know it, her own has been deflowered not too long ago and she isn't sure what response would be favourable by you, so that and the embarrassment of the Leader questioning her for something like that about his wife when she is on amiable terms with the girl makes her choose silence for as long as allowed. And her own husband cockily leaning into her and mansplaining into her ear how it would work for you by comparing it with what he did to her pretty ass only makes her curl further.

“Shy little thing, isn't she, my precious?” So your husband turns his unwelcome attention back to you, bending the both of your bodies forwards so he can smack your asshole with the back of his hand easier, the impact making you rock violently forward. “Maybe you should learn some manners from her, huh?” The howls you let out from getting your pucker pinched and hit is something you would rather not narrate. All you choose to disclose of that ordeal is that sobs echo in the hall, another orgasm rips out of you and you are sure your body releases more liquid than normal for an average orgasm. “Look at how polite and nice she is, hm? While all you want to do is to curse your husband and be an ungrateful little sloth” it sounds as though a newfound annoyance causes him to grit his teeth towards the end and the tip of his fingers finds recourse in seeking for itself a passage past the tight barrier of your unwilling button as a result.

And so your mouth begins to run in the desperate way he loves. “N- No, no, no hubby! No!” You vehemently shake your head as you feel your knees start to buckle from the exhaustion. “I- I didn't mean it!” The bearded corners of his mouth pull into a deep smirk. He knows its coming, and he loves it.

“You didn't?” How can he not when he is the one who trained you to it and taught you the words to say during.

“No! No!” Your voice comes out child-like from your mind's succumbing to its defeat. For the day, at least. “I d- didn't!”

Steve is a jackhammer in how he fucks his children into you and works towards giving you more. “Oh, I see” now he speaks to you like an elder speaking to a young one, like you are no older than five winters. “Then, will you tell me why you said such naughty words to your husband who does so much for you?” He knows you're small now and so he chooses his words accordingly.

After all, it is Steve's meticulous tailoring of your mind and body which brings you to act out this specific sequence.

Nothing less, nothing more.

Just this.

A shrew tamed into a compliant wife equipped with the mind of a babe.

He may never admit it outright simply because it goes against his very code of life but Steve knows in his heart of hearts that it is this very push and pull you put up in your own passive little way that keeps him alert and your marriage interesting.

Addictive.

“Is ’cause— hnnng, cause—!” He pulls both of your bodies back up with the intention of turning you to face him but he chooses not to do it just yet. He wants you, those silly boys and everyone else who suspects that his judgement grows soft because of his fancy for your youthful beauty and adorable personality, to hear it. Steve can always pull you right back down if wants. Your reins will always be in a hand's reach to him. Just because he lets you sneak in your foolish ways sometimes doesn't mean you've conquered his nature-gifted better sense.

“Because, what?” Everything in life calls for balance and so each time your misbehavior that you think you hide so well from him begins to rise above a level he deems no longer amusing, he is there to hammer it down.

Quite literally.

“Because I am j- just an i- impudent,” Steve grunts and moans, feeling his cock twitch from how you always mispronounce imprudent when you are in this state. He taught you that word and true to your little baby self and mind, you can never get yourself to say it right. “Little wife and I am a d- dumby—”

“Fuck…” Steve feels a drop of cold sweat trickle down his back from your little vocabulary. He feels himself pant from how hard he fucks you, his windpipe alight from the friction caused by the air he heaves in with each desperate inhale.

You are a proper trouble; something he has never had before, and he loves it.

“— D- Dumby sloth who dunno any real worries besides e- eating and b- being spoilt b- by my lovu hubbsy—” your tongue is kinetic jelly between your teeth and Steve has begun to moan from how fucked stupid you sound. “So I get shtoopid and u- ungateful” Steve cannot contain it anymore. In a fevered and desperate confusion of how to express the thunderstorm you cause in his head, he slaps your hair away, causing for some of the flowers to go flying about, and sinks his teeth into your flesh, growling so deep into your skin that you feel the vibrations cause ripples in your blood. Perhaps that is what Steve yearns to taste. “B- But husby always fixes” your head goes limp against his as he sucks your skin like a crazed animal for you lose a track of how long. Your vision and hearing bolts away from your comprehensive faculties like a bullet train and your body gets sucked into the vacuum of your husband's beastly grip. You are just a lifeless doll rocking in whichever direction and manner he pleases.

Next time your brain catches on with your reality, your body has been placed under his with your back against the table. You faintly notice when your dress begins to get wet that splashes of mead cover it due to your brutish husband's depraved madness.

“Look at me, hey” he pats your incoherent face until your wandering gaze settles on him, teary eyes distant. “This is the face that you will see in those of your children, and children you shall have until this residence cannot contain any more” his promise echoes in your buzzing ears like the bestowing of an ultimate truth upon you by some powerful deity. “This is the face you will look up at as you spread your legs,” his tip is so swollen, raw and hot against your worn skin that you can feel it even in this state. Your features scrunch from the discomfort. “This is the face you will kiss and cherish” his fingers find your throat again and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he puts pressure on your windpipe. “And this is the face that you will look at until you breathe your last” he holds you until you are on the verge of losing consciousness, though letting go only to stifle the gasp you let out to resume your breathing with a hot sealing kiss.

Your muscles twitch and your body spasms in the position he has you in. Laxness washes over your limbs and you begin to violently shake from the dull and yet stinging quakes of sensation that bloom through your whole form.

For some dark, twisted and depraved reason, you cum from the helplessness of your situation and it is present in Steve's amused and proud smirk that the knowledge is not lost on him. Swiping an arm around you from behind with an air of satisfaction, he collects your limp body closer to his and walks off to your chambers with your drenched sexes still connected, leaving a crowd of embarrassed, curious, satisfied as well as tamed spectators in his wake.

You surrender yourself to him and close your eyes as your body collapses on top of his. Your mind barely works but you know one thing— fact as clear as day; you are not making it out of this without at least one child on the way.

And there isn't a single thing you can do about it.

. . .

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mazamba · 7 months ago

Text

Baby Steps

Dani slurped her milkshake noisily as she shifted back to the visible spectrum, interrupting the argument between the so-called adults. It'd been a hectic week, she'd been part of Young Justice for less than a week, yet they already had a crisis in the form of a maybe-evil clone.

"Do you mind?" growled Batman.

"Try a different word."

Superman raised an eyebrow.

""Father" is too heavy, try "brother" instead," she continued, "I mean, Phantom's technically my dad, but I don't call him that. He's my 'cuz!"

"What we call each other isn't the problem."

"No, but it's less scary isn't it? Danny was fifteen when I met him. Imagine if I'd called him dad. He'd have freaked out!"

Batman nodded, seeing the logic.

"And even then, I kinda needed some time to put my head together, you know?" she rattled on, floating crisscross applesauce in midair like a balloon in the breeze, "It's the real reason I left the first time. Maybe some time apart would be good for them? Microdose in family!"

"What we call each other isn't even half of the problem," sighed Superman, "you're a clone too, right? You once told me it was weird to know things you didn't remember learning. Clones are made and programed, sometimes with sleeper programming."

"True, but that's what we're here for," she figured, "I mean, I can't take you on, but Superboy's a different story. If he does go nuts, he has the whole Junior League to take care of him."

"I can't ask you to put yourself in danger."

"You're not, I'm volunteering," figured Stray, finally floating down to the ground, "look, Phantom and I work because we took the time to figure out who we are to each other. You two need time to figure out what you are, not get shoved together and hope for the best."

Batman grunted.

"This is a shock, it was a shock for Danny too. Sa- A mutual friend told me he had a panic attack an hour after I left. Started looking into childcare and stuff. She had to stop him from running after me with a diaper bag and they both crashed into a tree. Tu- a different friend sent me a picture."

"Your point?" sighed the Bat.

"I just said it? Forcing things helps no one. Just... put them in general proximity of each other and let the cards lay where they may. I know what you want to help Superboy, but forcing them into a get along shirt is just gonna hurt them both. You have to think of Superman too."

"And if he does go rogue?"

"Then we stop him."

"That easy?"

"That easy."

Superman sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, the whole situation was a lot less scary by simply changing the word. And what Stray said made sense, in a roundabout sort of way.

For his part, Batman was mentally kicking himself for hyper-focusing on Superboy's needs without taking Clark's feelings into consideration.

"We'll go with your plan," he agreed, "Superman, I'll need you to have a word with Black Canary. She will mediate with you and Superboy whenever you wish to meet, but I need you both to agree to this before we move forward."

"And if we can't?"

"Then he'll have to get adopted into somewhere else," figured Dani, sitting in midair again, "nothing good will happen if we just dump him on you. Neither one of you deserve what happened."

---

I'm sick of people dumping on Clark. Considering how he and the others live, I can't blame him for being suspicious.

Some other guy got replaced by a clone that didn't even know he was a clone. It wouldn't be that weird for Connor to have sleeper programming.

If anything, this is on Batman and the others for trying to force a relationship.

#dp x dc #dani phantom #batman #superman #superboy #clark kent #bruce wayne #connor kent

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darkbluekies · 4 months ago

Note

Oooo okay for the Drabble I think Jerry and Silas cause you know why not also because i like them a little too much

Silas & Jerry drabbles: comforting a scared darling

Mafia!yandere OC & female!yandere!mafia

Warnings: graphic threats from Jerry

Silas:

First, you didn't want him to leave for a mission when you were supposed to go to bed, and when he did you wanted the lamp on. You and Silas had watched a horror movie not too long ago. Silas hadn't imagined that you would take it so hard.

He knows that he shouldn't have left you alone in the bedroom, but he has to have this meeting. He should have seen it coming.

"Boss, your spouse is here", his second in command says from the door. He's been standing by the wall to keep an eye over the room, to make sure that no one will try to do anything. "Should I send them away?"

He should have known that you wouldn't go to bed. He excuses himself and stands up, walking over to the door. You're standing outside, wearing one of his hoodies. This new fear of yours have brought out a clinginess for him that he can't resist. You're just too cute.

"What are you doing out of bed?" he asks in a hushed tone so that his men won't hear and grab your arm. He knows why you are here, but he wants to hear you say it.

"I can't sleep", you whisper for him only. "I'm so scared, please ..."

"We've talked about this, little thing, nothing will hurt you. Everything we saw was made with cgi and rehearsed numerous times. Nothing was real. You know that."

You glare at him. How dare he belittle your fear? He senses his wrongdoings right away.

"No, I didn't mean that", he says quickly and moves closer. "Baby, listen, I'm just saying that what you are afraid of was never real. It can't hurt you."

"That doesn't mean anything. Just because you say that doesn't mean that I'll surprisingly stop being scared."

He can't resist your scared eyes. Silas sighs and hugs you.

"I have to do this meeting, it's urgent, I can't go to bed with you", he says, and then decides. "Okay, you'll sit next to me and stay here until the meeting is over. Eyes down, got it?"

You nod. Silas leads you into the conference room and lets you sit on a chair close by him. Your head is turned down, hand holding onto his pants. No mafia man is as scary as that fictional monster.

Jerry:

Darkness? Why are you araid of darkness? It's such a stupid thing to be afriad of, when Jerry is the definition of it.

"Don't be absurd", Jerry says and turns off the car. "Nothing will touch you as long as you are in the car!"

"Then let me keep the car light on", you say.

"No, it will attract threats."

"You said that nothing would hurt me in the car!"

"As long as you keep the lights off."

"Jerry, I can't deal with darkness."

"Y/N, I really don't have the time to fight with you. I have a man to kill if you have forgotten and the longer I am here, the further away he comes."

She sighs at your teary eyes.

"I'll be gone for a minute — two at most — and then I'll take care of you. Wait here — in the dark — for me."

With that said, she's gone. Those two minutes she's away, you've already started crying. She's back in a wit and is quick to take you in her arms.

"You're such a coward", she cooes and hides your face into her shoulder. "You have nothing to fear as long as I am here."

"But you weren't here! You were out killing some man!"

"For two minutes, baby. I'm here now. Breathe before you pass out."

"I fucking hate the dark ..."

"I know, baby, I know." She kisses your forehead. "I'm not going anywhere else for tonight. I'm going to take good care of you."

You cling onto her.

"Don't cry, you little baby", she whispers. "The darkness isn't anything to be afraid of, you know? It is actually a good thing, believe it or not. Without the darkness, i would be in jail by now. The darkness hides things you don't want to see. You should actually be thankful."

You sniffle.

"Oh, pull yourself together, baby", Jerry sighs. "I already told you that I am here and that nothing will happen. I will cut the throat of anything that tries to put their hands on you. Does that comfort you?"

"A bit ... maybe."

"Well, let me try again then, if you insist on being so fucking difficult. I will, personally, dig out the eyes of the naive enough to come close to you, in darkness or not. I will cut their hands of, braid their veins and create skipping ropes with them. Is that good enough for you?"

She laughs as you tug at your lips. Jerry might not be the best at comforting, but she will do everything for you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #yandere fics #female yandere #yandere drabble

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rollinouttahere-writes · 4 months ago

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platonic yandere WB and orphan feral child reader

Solitude

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Pirates x GN Child Reader

5.3k words

Summary: Your life of isolation on an abandoned island is interrupted when a mistake leads to you being spotted by some pirates.

Warnings: brief descriptions of death and violence, starvation, drugging, forced adoption, platonic yanderes

Creeping closer to the shoreline left your nerves rattled. While it wasn’t unheard of for pirates to stop at this island, you’ve never seen a ship so big before. You stare in awe and fear at the behemoth of a ship stationed not far from the shore.

From your hiding spot under some brush, you’ve seen several pirates leave the ship and disperse throughout the island. Presumably, they were looking for food. They wouldn’t find much. This has been a bad year for fruit and berries, and the few animals that called this island home were getting harder and harder to catch.

Frustration ate away at you. There was so little for you to eat as is, and these people were about to steal what was left. You were already starving, and now it’s about to get worse. Still, you weren’t stupid enough to confront them about it. Talking to pirates was a dangerous idea… you learned that lesson the hard way.

Being stranded wasn’t so bad at first. You still had your mom and dad, and they took care of the bulk of the work. They’d built the treehouse that you call home and taught you how to survive. While they were always trying to flag down passing ships for help, you’d never cared all that much about it. You could barely even remember what civilization was like anymore, so you felt no real desire to go back to it. Being alone with your family was all that you knew, and the idea of anything else felt scary.

Everything came crashing down the day that some pirates docked at the island. Your parents told you to stay put in the treehouse and approached the crew to beg them for a ride back home. Following them was something you would go on to regret for the rest of your life. Despite your family being nothing but kind and respectful… they were brutalized. All you could do was watch in terror as your parents were beaten to death for “bothering” the pirates.

You hated pirates.

Dragging your parents’ battered bodies back home was a grueling effort. They were so much bigger than you were, and you couldn’t stop crying as you looked at their bodies. If you hadn't seen it happen, you wouldn’t have even been sure it was them. Then you had to dig their graves with your bare hands. It took all day to get both of the holes deep enough to put them into. You brought over the biggest rocks you could carry as a way to mark where they were so you would never forget.

Ever since that day, you’ve been completely alone. It was hard. So much harder than you ever imagined. It’s not like you didn’t know how much your parents had done for you while they were still alive, but it was completely different having to now do all of it by yourself without any guidance.

Gathering and storing rainwater was all up to you, getting food was all up to you, starting fires to cook meat and keep warm was all up to you. There were many points during the first year by yourself where you thought you were going to die. Miraculously, you managed to survive and settle into your independent role. You’ve survived on your own for a little over three years now by following your instincts and what your parents taught you. Today was the first time you’ve considered going against one of your rules.

You knew that your next course of action should be to leave and hide out until these pirates get off the island. Getting as close as you already have was needlessly risky, but you couldn’t help it. They were cooking up a bunch of food on the beach and it smelled amazing. Your stomach growled and you were salivating as the aroma of cooking meat assaulted your senses. Maybe it’s because you were starving from struggling to forage this year, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave.

It was stupid… but you need food. If they’re going to take your food, then why shouldn’t you take some of theirs? The guy that had been cooking left a little while ago to go back to the ship for something, and no one else was around. If you were quick… This should be fine.

After taking another glance around to confirm that no one would see you, you spring out of the bushes and sprint for where the food is. There are several tables littered with food. You skid to a stop in front of one and grab the first thing that you see. Crouching down behind the table, you examine your find. It’s brown and has a tough, yet crumbly exterior. When you squeeze it, it gives easily and crackles under the force of your hands. Without a second of hesitation, you bring it to your mouth and bite into it. The inside is white and much softer. It’s simultaneously chewy and crunchy, and you love it. Your eyes start to grow wet as you chew it.

It tastes so good.

The rest of it is eaten in seconds, and then you grab more of these things off the table and stuff them into your bag that you carry with you everywhere. As much as you want to sample everything now, you have no idea how much time you have before someone comes back. Getting caught was not an option. If pirates killed your parents just for speaking to them, you didn’t want to find out what they would do to someone who stole from them.

Random food is stuffed into your bag as you frantically look around for signs of someone coming back. You approach the fire that has meat roasting over it. Your mouth watered as you smelled it from so close up. You reach for it, then pull your hand away. It would make more sense to cut off a piece with your knife. Grabbing something that’s roasting over an open fire will just burn your hand.

You drop to your knees and try to find your hunting knife in your bag. Just as you find it, you hear something. Footsteps. Your heart hammers in your chest and you frantically scramble under the nearest table. Peeking out from under the table, you see the cook coming back with a basket in his arms. He drops it on a table, then walks over to where the meat is cooking and checks on it.

One of your hands clutches your knife, while the other covers your nose and mouth to keep yourself quiet. Your heart is pounding in your chest so loud that you’re scared he’s going to hear it.

The man approaches the table you’re under and stops moving. You shake in fear, thinking you’ve been found. He lets out an exasperated sigh and calls out, “Can you people not wait ten minutes before pillaging?!” He grumbles under his breath about bottomless pits and starts to turn away, only to stop when he hears something.

Your stomach growling.

Trying to clutch your stomach does nothing. It’s too late now. You can only hope that he didn’t actually hear that, but it was so loud. What feels like hours pass in the tensest silence of your life, then a hand shoots under the table and grabs your arm before hauling you out into the open.

You’re effortlessly brought up to eye level with the cook, who stares at you with a baffled expression. His mouth opens and closes a few times before words actually come out. “Who… Where did you come from?”

Finally, your instincts override your terror, and you slash at him with your knife. His arms are so long that you can’t even reach him, but the action is still enough to be startling and make him drop you. The second you hit the ground, you run. You duck under the table to grab your bag and then take off towards the woods.

“Hey, wait! Come back!”

The cook tries to run after you, but you’re able to easily lose him once you enter the forest. There are plenty of tight squeezes that you know someone his size won’t be able to fit through. It’s not long before you’ve stopped hearing his voice and you can finally slow down. You lean against a tree as you catch your breath.

Normally, you wouldn’t get exhausted so easily, but your emaciated body couldn’t handle much exertion anymore. You pant hard and cough loudly as you sink to the ground. Internally, you curse at yourself for being so weak. You need to get back to the treehouse. Just because that one guy gave up didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be others.

Forcing yourself to get back on your feet, you continue the trek back home. You pull out another one of those brown things from your bag and start munching on it. This one tastes just as good as the last, and you can’t help but wonder what it is. It isn’t like anything you’ve ever had before.

As you walk, you hear something strange. You freeze and look around. It sounds like… a bird? But the flap of the wings is much louder than you’re used to. You whip your head around frantically while trying to identify the source.

Then you see it. A giant, blue bird was flying overhead. And it looked like it was on fire. You watch, slack jawed, as it lands on a branch above your head and peers down at you. It isn’t behaving aggressively, but that isn’t enough to quell your fear. That bird could easily swoop down and pick you up, and its talons looked like they were as long as your fingers. You start walking backwards while keeping your eyes locked on the animal. You aren’t far from your treehouse now. If you could just get in there, you should be safe. That giant bird looked too big to fit inside.

Much to your horror, the bird starts following you from a distance. Its actions aren’t necessarily predatory yet, but you figure that’s only because it’s trying to decide if you’re worth the effort to prey on or not. It takes effort to not run, but you’ve learned over the years that doing that will only encourage the animal to attack. You walk at a brisk pace while watching the bird as closely as you can while periodically glancing over your shoulder to make sure that you’re still going the right way.

You’re relieved when you see your treehouse come into view, only to quickly become distressed when the bird lands on one of the branches supporting it. This is enough to give you pause about entering it. You really don’t want to get too close to that bird. It could easily carry you away if it was able to grab you… but it hasn’t behaved like a predator at all yet. Maybe it’s just curious and will go away once you get inside?

Taking a deep breath to settle your rattled nerves, you start climbing up the tree. There used to be a rope ladder, but it fell apart about a year ago, so now you’re stuck scaling the tree using its trunk, branches and the vines growing on it.

Once again, your weakened state was taking a heavy toll on you. Normally, you could get from the forest floor to the treehouse in a matter of seconds. Today, after your previous run and the fast paced walking you did, you were so exhausted that you had to take a break halfway up. A vine is tightly clutched in your shaky hands to help keep you steady as you sit on one of the branches, trying to catch your breath and get your head to stop spinning.

The familiar sound of heavy wings flapping cuts through the air again, and you look up in hopes that you’ll see that weird bird flying away. The bird flies behind the tree, then comes around and lands on another branch. The one that you’re on.

The branch dips under the added weight of the large bird, forcing you to hold onto the vine tighter to keep from falling. Your heart was pounding again as the creature inched closer to you. You’re frozen in fear and stuck staring up at it as its head cranes over to you. The way its eyes examine you feels weird. It seems so… calculated. Intelligent. Birds’ eyes have never looked so purposeful to you.

Now that it’s so close, you can’t help but be drawn to the markings around its eyes. The way that the purple feathers frame them reminds you of the glasses that your father wore. The reminder makes your chest feel weird, so you quickly dismiss it. This isn’t a good time to be getting sentimental. You need to get into your treehouse before those pirates spot you, or this bird decides that it wants to eat you.

Using a burst of energy brought on by your desire to not become a snack, you frantically close the gap between you and your home. The bird doesn’t lunge after you, much to your relief, but you still slam the hatch shut as soon as you get through the hole in the floor that acts as the entrance to your treehouse. You collapse on the floor, gasping for breath and coughing loudly between each ragged inhale.

You freeze and snap your head up when you hear the bird take off, and you wonder if it’s about to attack your home. It’s so large that you think it would be able to cave in the roof just from landing on it. Much to your relief, however, the flaps of its powerful wings grow more and more faint as the animal flies away from your home. Your head falls back onto the floor as the tension finally leaves your body.

It takes a while for you to recover from your exhaustion enough to get to your feet. When you do, you trudge over to the pile of fabrics and furs that make up your bed and fall onto it. You slide your bag off your shoulder and rip open the flap so you can finally sate your appetite with your findings.

Everything is okay. You’re safe for now.

At first, all you can do is gawk at how much food you have. You’ve never had so much food at once. It’s almost overwhelming to have so many options in front of you in such a plentiful amount.

Snapping out of your choice paralysis, you grab something that you think is a fruit. It’s bright orange, and the skin feels thick and textured. You sniff it, but the smell isn’t all that strong. Experimentally, you bite into it. The skin is tough, but once your teeth break through, juice squirts out and drips down your hands and into your mouth. The taste is like nothing you’ve ever had before. It’s so strong and sweet and it makes your mouth feel funny, but in a good way. You rip out the chunk you bit into and chew it. The skin doesn’t taste very good, and you wonder if you’re even supposed to eat it. You pick off pieces of the skin until you can bite into just the flesh of the fruit. When you do, you feel like your previous assumption about the skin was correct. Eating the flesh directly was infinitely better with the skin out of the way.

You make quick work of the rest of the fruit. Your hands and face are sticky, but you’re feeling happy for once. You took a major risk stealing this stuff, but it felt worth it. Your stomach was going to be full, and you got to taste new things, even if it would be just this once. You’re about to dive back into your bag of goodies, but then you hear it.

Footsteps. Lots of them.

Your previous elation is gone in an instant and replaced with raw fear. You unsheath your hunting knife and drop into a crawl. You go over to where there’s a small split in the wall for you to peer out of without risking being seen. As you squint through the crack, your heart drops into your stomach when you see three people approaching the tree your home is in. One of them is the cook that saw you earlier. You start to panic, realizing that you’ve been hunted down.

This is it for you. You’re about to suffer the same fate as your parents because you got careless.

You scurry backwards until your back is against one of the walls. There’s only one way in and out of this treehouse: the hatch on the floor. It isn’t very big, only one person can climb through at a time. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to take them on as each comes through. It’s unlikely, but this is your only chance. You refuse to just roll over and let them kill you. If you die today, you’ll go down fighting.

The walls muffle noise from the outside, making it impossible for you to make out what’s being said. What you can hear loud and clear is someone scaling up the tree. The branches creak loudly under that person’s weight as they easily climb up. In mere seconds, you see the hatch get pushed up and to the side. Your fingers squeeze around the hilt of your knife in preparation for what you need to do.

A head pokes through. A man with dark hair and freckles on his face peers around your treehouse. He chuckles quietly and mutters to himself, “This really takes me back.”

He starts to haul himself through the hole, and that’s when you finally spring into action. You lunge at him with a snarl and bring your blade down on his neck with all your might. At least you tried to.

With seemingly no effort, the man grabs your wrist, effectively bringing you to a halt. His grip is impossibly strong. You try to pull away, but he won’t budge. You expect the man to snap your arm or hit you with an attack of his own, but he barely even reacts to you. He keeps a firm, yet surprisingly painless, grip on you while he finishes climbing into your home. He speaks to you in a casual tone, “Relax, kid. No one’s here to hurt you.”

Your wrist is released, but he snatches your knife out of your hand and closely examines it. He runs his thumb along the edge and laughs a little. “Damn, I didn’t even need to block. This thing is so dull that I don’t think it would have been able to cut me.” When he looks back up at you, you scramble back, completely terrified from how easily this guy disarmed you. The man notes your apparent terror and sets down your knife before holding his hands up, “Hey, take it easy. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. No one will.” A hand is extended toward you. The hand is open and relaxed. “I’m Ace. What’s your name?”

All that you do is stare at him. You’re not sure what he’s doing. Does he expect you to give him something after he already took your knife?

The smile that he was sporting drops slightly, and he retracts his hand. “Not much for handshakes? Can you at least tell me your name?” Again, you just stare at him. You don’t know why he’s behaving the way he is, which only makes you more anxious. Ace’s smile droops more. “Can you talk? Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You decide to answer his last question with a tense nod. The response makes his smile return and he appears to be oddly relieved for reasons that you can’t fathom.

Ace scoots closer to you while pulling something off of his belt. “That’s good. I was starting to get worried that I’d have to act out everything.” He removes the top from the thing he pulled off his belt and holds it out to you. You can’t see what’s inside it from where you’re crouched, but you can see steam coming out of it. “Here, I brought something for you.”

When you don’t make a move to take it from him, he sighs and sets it down on the floor before moving back. “No need to be so suspicious, kid. Thatch warmed up some milk and honey for you. He thought you could use it.”

You don’t know what milk or honey is. Is it food? Accepting something from a pirate feels like a bad idea, but you get the feeling that he doesn’t plan to go away until you do. And with him blocking the way out and also having your only usable weapon, you feel like you don’t really have a choice here.

Carefully, you creep forward. Your eyes stay trained on Ace as you do. His own eyes are flitting around your home. The lack of focus on you helped soothe your nerves slightly, but you still scrambled back frantically once you were able to grab the weird cup-thing. It was warm to the touch, and the stuff inside was white. You sniff at it, and your stomach growls in response to the comforting aroma. You take an experimental sip. The taste is sweet and soothing, but also weirdly familiar. An old memory tickled at the back of your mind, but not clearly enough to fully remember it. Have you had this “milk and honey” before? Maybe before your family became stranded on this island?

Immediately, you tilt the cup up and start gulping it down greedily, wanting to drink it all before Ace could try and take it back. It’s gone in a matter of seconds. Despite just being a drink, it felt oddly filling. You feel disappointed that it’s gone already, but you don’t want to push your luck by asking for more.

Ace’s shoulders relax when you finish the drink, though you’re not sure why. He attempts to converse with you again. “See? I’m not so bad, right? I don’t suppose you want to tell me your name now, do you?”

Sharing your name feels weird. Your parents were the only people who ever knew it, and a part of you wants to keep it that way. But… Ace has been strangely nice to you. Maybe it won’t be a bad thing to tell him.

“... (Y/N).”

Your voice croaks and your throat aches from just saying the one word. Now that you think about it… you don’t think you’ve spoken since your parents died. There hasn’t been a reason to since that fateful day..

The noticeable pain in your voice caught Ace’s attention, and he frowned. He moves closer to you again. While you do tense up, you don’t move away, which he appears to take as a good sign. He moves even closer to you and speaks up again, “You look pretty hungry, (Y/N). Thatch brought some food for you.”

This makes you perk up and glance around his person, trying to figure out where he’s keeping the food at. He picks up on that and laughs lightly. “I don’t have it. If you want it… you have to come with me. Okay?”

As soon as he says that, you recoil. While he had earned a little bit of trust, it wasn’t enough to make you blindly follow him.

Ace’s hand shoots out and grabs yours before you can back away too much. His grip is firm, but not crushing. He squeezes it gently and speaks in a calm voice, “You don’t have to go far. You just have to come down from this tree. Thatch and Marco are waiting at the bottom.” When you don’t look convinced and instead keep trying to pull away, he drags you over to the hole in the floor and guides you to look down. The other two people you saw before are standing by the base of the tree. They smile warmly and wave at you.

“They just want to see you and make sure you’re okay. Can you please come down so they can do that?”

Your instincts are screaming at you to not agree and stay up here. You’ve already taken too many risks today, and this feels like an insane idea. You’re already vulnerable purely from your physical state, but you would also be outnumbered three-to-one if you go down there.

But, what’s stopping them from coming up if you don’t cooperate? It feels like you’re already caught, so maybe you should just do whatever they say so as to not upset them

With significant hesitation, you give Ace an affirmative nod, which makes him grin widely. You expect for him to start climbing down so you could follow him. Rather than that, he abruptly picks you up and drops out of the hole. You squawk in surprise and flail as both of you fall. Your eyes screw shut and you brace for impact, only for him to somehow slow down just before he lands. It almost sounds like there’s a fire for a moment, but by the time your eyes open so you can look, the noise is gone.

And you’re surrounded by three pirates.

You shrink in on yourself as the other two stare at you. They don’t look angry, but you feel scared of them regardless. Ace sets you down on the ground, then gently pushes you towards them.

The tall cook that you ran from earlier crouches down and smiles widely at you. Even now, he towers over you, prompting you to lean back against Ace. Your wariness does nothing to deter the cook. He pulls out a small box and holds it out to you.

“Hey there! I’m Thatch. You gave me quite the surprise earlier. I thought for sure it was Ace getting into the food early.” When you don’t take the box, he pulls the lid off and shows what’s inside. There’s a bunch of food densely packed into it, and the wave of smells that hits you leaves your mouth watering.

Your restraint dies on the spot, and you quickly snatch the box out of his hands and grab a handful of food before stuffing it into your mouth. You glance up at Thatch while you’re chewing and see him holding out some tiny, shiny thing with some points on the end.

He chuckles and stuffs it back in his pocket while returning to his full height, “I guess we can teach you about silverware later.”

While you eat, you keep your back pressed against Ace’s legs. You’re only half paying attention as the men talk amongst themselves.

Thatch spoke first, “Can they talk?”

“A little. I got them to tell me their name, but it sounds like the kid hasn’t said anything in forever. Their name is (Y/N).”

The blonde man, who you’re assuming has to be Marco, kneels down and starts examining you closely. His glasses reminded you a little bit of the bird you saw earlier. His scrutinizing gaze makes you hold your box of food tighter and turn away from him slightly. This makes him chuckle and speak to you in a soothing voice, “I’m not going to take it. I just want to get a good look at you so I can make sure you’re okay.”

His hand touches your hair and lifts clumps of it up. You wince as the matted sections of hair tug at your scalp. You used to keep your hair cut short but were forced to stop when your knife became so dull that it couldn’t really cut through anymore.

Marco hummed quietly and muttered under his breath, “Might be best to just shave it all off.” He dropped the hair clumps and moved on to examining your face. His eyes zeroed in on something in particular, and he frowns. “Did you break your nose?”

The question brings you back to a time shortly after your parents’ death. Your father had done the majority of the hunting when he was still alive, and he would use his rifle to take down some of the larger animals on the island. You had tried using it to kill a hog, but that ended horribly. Not only had you missed, but the gun jerked backwards and slammed right into your nose with a loud crack. When you managed to get to a stream so you could see your reflection, you saw that your nose was crooked. You had tried to fix it, but it hurt so bad when you touched it that you weren’t able to make it much better.

You snapped out of your thoughts and nodded your head to answer Marco’s question. He carefully holds your face and runs his thumbs down either side of your nose. Pain shoots through it, making you whine and try to pull away. He allows you to, which you appreciate.

“Is it hard to breathe through your nose?”

You stuff the last handful of food into your mouth before answering him. It takes a moment for you to find the words and force them out, “A little… used to it…”

Marco sighs softly at your answer. He pulls out a piece of cloth from his pocket and uses it to wipe off your face and hand. The cloth is put away, and he continues with his questions. “Are your parents here?”

The question makes you tense up. You didn’t appreciate how many reminders you were getting of them today. You nod stiffly, then point over to the rocks marking where they’re buried. The men glance around in confusion for a moment before looking back at you. You sigh and go over to the rocks and pat the dirt. “Here.”

All of their faces contort as they figure out what you meant.

Thatch was the one to break the silence. “You aren’t out here all alone, are you?”

You nod.

“How long have you been alone for?”

“... Three years.”

They all share wide-eyed looks with each other. Marco quickly strides up to you and takes one of your hands in his, “Let’s go back to the ship, okay?”

“No!” Any previous calm you had faded away and was replaced with a raw panic. You flailed your arm in a desperate attempt to get him to let go, but much like Ace, he wouldn’t budge.

Marco uses his other hand to grab your shoulder and force you to hold still. “Calm down, you’re just going to hurt yourself. We’re going to help you. You aren’t going to have to be alone anymore.”

You try to keep fighting, you really do, but your head starts to spin and your limbs grow weak. Before you can completely collapse, Marco scoops you up into his arms. You want to push him away, but your arms won’t do anything. All that you can do is blink wearily at your surroundings as they all swirl and blend together.

Thatch steps closer and gently pats your head. “About time. I was starting to think I went too light on the dosage. Did (Y/N) not drink all of the milk?”

“They did. They downed the entire thermos in a few seconds. I didn’t think they were going to so much as make it out of the treehouse awake.”

“I guess they’re tougher than I thought. The poor thing looked so scrawny and sickly that I was afraid I might kill them with a normal dose.”

All that comes out of you is a weak whimper as your vision starts to fade to black. Marco rubs your back and begins to walk. The gentle rocking from his gait only makes you nod off faster. His voice is quiet as he tells you assurances of how everything is going to be better now, but it does nothing to comfort you.

Terror is the only thing in your mind as you finally succumb to whatever they just did to you.

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