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sleepynoons · 3 months ago

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Underneath the Surface

As an attendant for the first Harbinger, Il Capitano, you work to maintain his household in Snezhnaya, though you can still only admire him from afar. But that distant reverence changes completely when you are offered another role that goes beyond your day-to-day and allows you to share a bond with him that no one else knows the true nature of. This is a dream come true, of course, but what happens when the dream ends? When will it end? And what will you do after it ends?

ooc!capitano x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+

word count: ~4,600

cw: power imbalance + unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, sadism/masochism, pain kink, knife kink, praise kink, predator/prey, ownership + master, use of other sharp objects (claws), temperature play, graphic descriptions of blood/injuries/bruises/pain/etc., sensory deprivation (blindfold), mentions of death + murder

notes: ok i know everyone is head over heels for capitano because big looming man + the mask and cape stay on during sex ikik i get it, but what if our captain had... a dark, serious, + slightly twisted personality? bc i imagine, in canon, for someone so committed to his work and the tsaritsa, his sense of justice and overpowering physical strength could prevent him from making rash decisions like being in a relationship with another... anyway, my take on capitano! tysssssm to @staraxiaa for beta-reading and letting me yap away in our discord <33 lena, could not have churned this out any earlier if it were not for your enthusiasm and hypnosis. ily queen. anyway, hope y'all enjoy!

THE HALLS are still, silent aside from the occasional clanking of metal weaponry. All of the soldiers and attendants are holding their breaths, anticipating for what is to come. You, too, wait, immobile, on the edge of your chair in front of the vanity. You avoid your reflection in the mirror, but appearances are of utmost importance, so you busy yourself by repeatedly smoothing the pleats of your silk nightgown.

It has been two long months since you have fallen back into this routine: waking before sunrise, dressing with your finest gowns and lingerie, and awaiting his instruction throughout the day. Of course, you still behave in an appropriate manner befitting of his grace when he is not around, but there is no need to impress. Not many are aware of the nature of your agreement with him, anyway.

A soldier’s call can be heard from outside your window, a signal of his grace’s arrival from the accompanying blare of a horn. You suck in a sharp breath, pursing your lips as you hold, before exhaling completely. You have half an hour.

Making your way around his chamber, you go about your final checks. He has always been particular with the way things should be, his sense of justice and discipline underlying and interweaving with every aspect of his own life. You blow away specks of dust from his bookshelves, tie the chiffon of the bed canopy curtains to their posts, and return your makeup on the vanity back to a pouch, not before dabbing on a bit more powder and curling your eyelashes once more.

The half hour passes quickly, and you rush to stand by the door as you hear the heavy thuds of his boots approach. You bow your head and curtsy as he steps in. It is important that you do not look at him until he permits. He does not greet you, simply strides over to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him, heading to his closet farther beyond.

You sigh with relief. He did not take you immediately.

The next step of the routine is to wait for him to change. Beyond the door, you hear the faint rustle of heavy fabric hitting the floor, silver and bronze embossings clicking against sharp nails, and the occasional low grunt. You would assist him if you could, but no one has seen him without his fur coat and mask. You consider yourself lucky to have seen him without his cloak, but you, too, have never witnessed his visage. It is strange, though. As per your contract, you are supposed to help him with such tasks. Shrugging, you figure there is no need to hypothesize. You would never dare to act like you understand his grace and how he thinks and acts.

If he still does not speak to you when he returns, the burden falls on you to initiate.

You watch as the door handle twists before the door swings open. Instinctively, you lower your gaze and nod your head once in greeting. Pausing a beat, you give him a chance to speak if he wants. But he does not.

“Your grace,” you say.

He walks over to you, standing in front of where you sit on the edge of his bed. A gloved hand rests on the crown of your head – firm, cold. It traces the shape of your skull, sliding down to your ear, sharp metal claws scraping against the cartilage and the tender skin of your neck. He continues along the path of your jawline before holding your chin between his index finger and thumb. You are still looking downwards, only able to see up to his clothed forearm. Holding you steady, he appraises you and the effort you put into yourself. You try to relax under his gaze, not as an act of defiance or resistance but rather as a demonstration of your trust and loyalty in him. His grace knows best, after all. His criticism is guidance, only out of best interest for you, his praise gospel, miraculous stories to pass down for generations.

He hums. It is a deep, satisfied rumble.

“Well done,” he praises, releasing his hold. “I am relieved to be back.”

It is not often that his grace is content. He is rarely appeased with his own efforts. Naturally, you feel a sense of giddiness, a shiver of delight threatening to shake up your still frame. You even notice an urge of want for him, hoping that he would pay just a little more attention to the way you did your hair or the new perfume you are wearing or how the color of the night gown compliments the curves and rolls of your body. A stroke of luck, you think, to keep your dangerous emotions at bay. You must reflect on tonight and emulate what went well going forward.

Before you can relay your gratitude to your captain, he continues to speak. “I would like to try something different tonight.”

He pulls a wide silk scarf out from his pocket and wraps the navy fabric around your head, thereby obscuring your vision. The lack of light in the room, along with the dark shade of the blindfold, make it impossible for you to see anything beyond the faint silhouette of your hands as you stretch them out in front of you to test the opacity of the silk. But this is nothing out of the ordinary.

You startle as he splays his palm on your back and slides an arm underneath your legs. He picks you up, as if you are but a mere feather, and repositions you so that you are lying down on the bed.

“It will hurt. Will you be able to take it?” he asks. Void of his usual assertiveness, he is shedding his role of a Harbinger, melting into a simple person who wants his desires fulfilled. He is speaking to you with caution and respect, fulfilling his end of his contract, as your master, your owner, to ensure that tonight’s experience will be pleasurable for you as well. However, you know the power and strength he holds beyond the walls of his bedroom will never fully escape your conscience. It is your obligation to protect yourself from dire harm, but you cannot deny him the opportunity to experiment, in fear of retaliation and punishment.

You reply, “How painful?”

The bed dips beside your hip, and you feel the leather of his glove rub into your thigh.

“I will use my gloves and a knife.”

Scared or excited, you cannot tell. At his words, you become acutely sensitive towards the feel of his gloved hand as he continues to glide it up and down your leg. You can almost taste the steely, icy sting of his claws digging into the fat of your thigh, breaking the skin just enough for beaded crimson to trickle, not enough to scar permanently.

“Your grace, is this a punishment?”

“Not at all.” His hand travels farther up and pushes the lace trim of your nightgown aside to reveal your underwear underneath. He pulls at the ribbons at the side, slowly untying the thong, as he chuckles, “It is a reward, for your effort and time.”

The praise is doing wonders to you. You feel dizzy, light, and hot in the head, and the pulsing in your core intensifies, your hole fluttering and throbbing in tandem with the escalating rate of your heartbeat. Even though you cannot see, you can almost sense him smiling, perhaps at the wetness that is spotting your underwear or possibly even the state of your whole being, showing his understanding of and command over your body.

The latter seems likely as he presses his claws into your skin, as if to counter and neutralize your raging internal inferno. The cold shocks the nerves at the juncture where your hip connects to your leg, where the ribbon of your panties used to be tied at.

“I will start easy,” he explains. To demonstrate, he curls his fingers and pushes, channeling all of the pressure into the tips of his claws and persists until they shallowly latch into your skin. You squirm, jump, and whimper at the pain. It hurts more than you had expected, though you really had no point of comparison in the first place. You continue to shudder as he holds his fingers in place, probably gauging your reaction.

“Th-that is alright,” you manage to stammer. The pinch may be harsh, but it does not draw blood or bring tears to your eyes, simply a scraping of the surface of your skin. You can withstand a little more, you reassure yourself. This is your reward. Without a word, he moves his hands back down to your thighs and scratches your right.

The motion is fast, clean. In fact, your body and mind do not react to the two long, slanted cuts he leaves, the blood only spilling milliseconds after the damage has been done. The pain comes even later. At first, you feel nothing, and even the thin streams of blood flowing out of the wounds only leave a wet sensation on your otherwise untainted legs. But then, the stinging comes, akin to that of an unexpected paper cut. Except, with each passing second, it gets worse, as if the paper cut is being pulled along and extended, and your leg strains against his hold to move, to distract itself from the harm inflicted. Crimson is sure to be leaking from the full length of the cuts, and at the back of your throat, you can almost taste the coppery scent of oxidizing iron.

When he moves to repeat the same onto your other leg, you bite the inside of your cheek to prepare for the incoming pain. Part of your role is to adapt quickly, and in this case, you have to sense and react to his grace’s next steps immediately. The chiseled points of his nails cut through your skin like a large kitchen knife slicing through even the toughest of ingredients – precise, swift, ignorant of any and all resistance.

You have never gone this long with just pain, let alone be deprived of one of your senses. Nights with his grace are inevitably bound to be painful, but in his own way, he softens the blows and plows of his roughness and aggression by pleasuring your body.

Your first morning after, you woke up unable to feel anything past your waist. Throughout the night, to show you just exactly what you were getting yourself into, he forced you to reach peak after peak after peak as a test of your endurance, stamina, loyalty. Though, you were more shocked to see the purpling bruises encircling your ankles and wrists, as if his grace had used cuffs on you. But he had not. Those bruises were entirely inflicted by his tight hold on you, shackling you down as you thrashed and kicked and instinctively attempted to escape, serving the same purpose in chaining your life and mercy to his will.

One’s ideals – justice – will always come at the cost of another’s freedom – autonomy.

But you are not opposed to such limitations. Out of all of the Harbingers, you are endlessly grateful that it is his grace who is your leader. Even though he may not be your direct master beyond the clauses of your contract, he is dutiful and considerate towards those who swear an oath to his name. You come from a family of Fatui soldiers, some of the best and the brightest, many trained under the watchful supervision of his grace, so from birth, you have been taught to idolize him. But to have your idol recognize you? Speak to you? Bed you? Unheard of, and to this day, you are not sure why he chooses you, time and time again. You cannot even fathom how he knows of you – a simple, one-of-several attendants who maintain his mansion of a home under the instruction of the head butler.

The nature of your contract with him is simple. (His grace often comments how he much prefers the dealings of the Liyuen people, how quick they are to draw up agreements and negotiations, compared to the conniving nature of some of his colleagues.) Whenever he returns, you shall take care of his personal desires and wants, as he will with yours. You are to fully commit yourself to him, trust in his intuition to know how to treat you accordingly, and he expects you to reciprocate, to satisfy him to the best of your abilities.

Your role is not as physically taxing as it is mentally laborious. His grace is rarely home – you recently heard he has a surge of dealings in Natlan that require his attention –, so your body is not under constant stress. However, when you are with him, you behave as if every night together is a performance review, a test of your memory, if you remember how to overcome your instincts to hold your body still enough in place, if you remember the way he gravitates towards elegant silk dresses and kimonos, if you remember that he will never apologize but will wrap gauze around your wounds when you are asleep.

You know you are expendable. As soon as you fail to satisfy him, he could – will – discard and replace you. While he has never outright pressured you, you know his grace is assessing you as well. But you cannot help but wonder – hope – that there is something about you – something so intrinsic and bespoke about you – that explains why, even in your failings, he will not let you go. You are sure there are faults that lie in you that you cannot see, that he will see. Yet, because you have not been let go, you wonder if he is alright with slight imperfections because it is no one other than you.

Regardless, you must not be too full of yourself. That is a cardinal sin with respect to his grace’s values. The strong become the weak as soon as they overestimate themselves, he would often preach.

You are brought back by a building pressure at your ankles. You raise your head to look down, to no avail. But you can feel his gloves, now slightly warm from being in contact with your body, wrapping themselves around your protruding bones, tighter and tighter, the chains locking with finality. There is a buzz in your toes from the constriction of circulation, and you bite on your lower lip to prevent yourself from whining at the bruising grip he has on you. You count beats in your head, seconds not true to time, muddled by the exhilarated racing of your heart, foolishly trying to distract yourself by examining his grace’s behavior instead. How long will he hold for? How long does it take to leave stubborn bruises that will remain for at least three days? Is it supposed to hurt this much?

But all of those questions and concerns do not matter anymore as soon as he speaks. “I was right in choosing you.”

As if his affirmation was not enough, he releases your legs and moves up the bed to embrace you. Winding his arms around you, he lifts you a margin off the bed so that your chests touch, your silk against his thick black wool. One of his hands then comes up to cradle the back of your head, gently brushing and patting you, almost like he is lulling you to sleep. You melt, and you have never felt such a strong urge to wrap him in your own arms.

Perhaps you can be a bit greedy tonight? Throwing caution to the wind, you mumble, “Y-your grace, may I…?”

His approving hum makes your heart trill with joy. To avoid any mishaps, you place your hands on his arms, following their sturdy build until you reach his shoulders. From here, your fingertips can brush against his flowing black hair. It is coarse and thick, and you muster all of your willpower to resist the urge to run your hands through the locks.

As if reading your mind, he says, “You can touch my hair, if you so wish.”

“That was not my intention,” you reply, fighting the smile threatening to bloom on your face.

He insists by leaning closer to you, so that you are forced to feel the front, shorter strands of his hair poke at your exposed clavicles. You can even argue that you can feel his breath from here, but then again, does his grace breathe? Is he man or monster? (Benefactor or foe?)

“I shall resume.” And he proceeds to grab you at the waist, gripping you as tightly as he did to your ankles, and you feel the same pressure building within you. But you can hold on longer, after all. This is a reward.

He pushes the silk dress all the way up to your neck and exposes your upper body. As your body tenses in response to the cold, he pokes at the goosebumps appearing on your skin, as well as uses the tip of a nail to trace your areolae, centimeters away from your perked nipples. He circles them for two eight-counts, slow and drawling, before suddenly pinching and tugging at them. You yelp – an unintended mistake – and arch your back. He is still clothed, and the metal buttons and chains of his blazer dig into your skin for the briefest of moments, eliciting another wave of shudders from you.

And the worst of the pain comes. He gives one last pinch to your nipples before moving his hands to your sides where your rib cage lies right underneath. He rubs his thumbs over the bump of each bone, gliding his fingers back and forth, perpendicular to the way your bones curve inwards to protect your insides. You do not know this, but he is searching, identifying where he will lay his wreckage next, between which ribs to leave his trace. Then, he curls his claws into you, a bone or two below your breasts, and sinks them into you, slowly wounding you parallel to the slanted direction of your cage.

It is unbearable. There is no way to prevent yourself from screaming and sobbing. Tears drench the blindfold within seconds, and you can only distract yourself by tightening your embrace around his neck and digging your own nails into your forearms to somehow transfer the pain elsewhere, overwhelm your brain so that it cannot perceive the full extent of the damage being done to your chest. Otherwise, you can only hope that his grace is understanding and allows you to wail at the gashes he is leaving.

And what about appearances? Surely, your body will be marred from tonight and may not ever fully erase the signs of tonight’s activities.

You freeze. Your blood chills. Physical pain dims and recedes to the back of your mind.

Appearances… do matter. If you dared to come up with any reason as to why his grace has chosen you, it would only be sensible to conclude that it is because of the way you look, no? Prior to your first night together, you had never interacted with him before – he did not even present the contract for this partnership to you – the head butler did! Therefore, there is no possibility that his grace knows you well, aside from direct reports from the head butler and, perhaps, passing comments from your family. And he would definitely not choose you for your talents, as you have none.

In fact, the only reason you are in the castle is quite simple. Though you are not disowned by your family, you are not treated as one of them. You were sickly throughout childhood, meaning you could not start training early enough. Even if you had enrolled later on, you would have never been sufficient enough in your capabilities to reach the high official ranks that your family has held onto for decades. Lacking the combat prowess your other siblings, parents, and ancestors have, you will never be able to fulfill your lineage’s mission to the Tsaritsa. Therefore, you had to find other ways to serve the Fatui, and your search led you to his grace’s household.

There is nothing to your person besides a family crest that does not want to claim you and a corporeal weak to the natural winds and storms of Snezhnaya. And, truly, the only thing you have all to yourself is this body of yours, something you can willingly choose to offer as long as it cooperates with you.

Is this it? After he scars and carves and rips you open, not even this anatomy of yours will be yours ever again. Is he to leave his mark on you forever, only to end this arrangement soon after?

Your wails are no longer because of your flesh being torn apart by cold, ruthless hands, hands that know the feel and taste and rotting warmth of blood. Instead, these wails are ones afraid of a future without these hands, these nails that are now also stained with your blood and skin and tears. When he cleans these gloves later, you can only hope the alcohol does not eradicate all of your traces.

He does not stop until the gashes reach the ends of your rib cage.

Taking deep breaths from your mouth, you gasp for air as he pulls away and sits back on his heels to examine your state – spent, covered in spit and blood and cold sweat, many things but your usual demureness.

You are incapable of keeping up such a ruse. You are too exhausted and tortured to even feign obedience. Though, if his grace asked, you would try for him, despite knowing you would barely be able to put on a show. Because for him, you would, without a beat of doubt or hesitation, take on any role if he asked you of it, as long as you can share a private bond with him, one that no else knows the intimate details of.

You hear shuffling, a pocket being pulled open – good, blood stains thread quite stubbornly –, and a quick flick of something clicking into place.

“This will be the last thing I do to you tonight. Raise your arm.”

You do as he says, barely feeling your forearms and beyond. He catches your hand and turns it over so that your palm is facing the ceiling.

The smooth, cool surface is recognizable, even to someone who has not fought in years. He places the flat side of the blade against your skin, letting it soak and adjust to your broiling heat. Once it is warm enough, he makes quick work, making short cuts in various directions around your wrist, over the spot where you take your pulse. As he works, he turns your wrist around as needed. The cuts always sting a bit at first before the sensation of the next being made takes over. You miserably think how you will never be able to marry with the way his grace is etching himself into you.

It does not take long, given how skilled he is.

But the routine has been disrupted, and when he sets your arm down, you are not sure what to do next. Usually, you would be unconscious by now. But you are wide awake, body thrumming and pulsing, sending signals to all the places where your nerves are exposed.

Again, you think back to the same question. Is this supposed to be my reward?

“You will now rest.” His grace’s voice commands, leaving no space for argument.

So you ask, instead of objecting. “And my body?”

“We will leave it as is. I need them to mark.” He enunciates with finality. You are unable to probe further, unable to even get a glimpse of what he means beyond his statements.

You manage to croak, “My apologies, your grace, for failing to restrain myself this evening.”

He only places his hand on the crown of your head, soft smooths and pats, like at the very beginning of tonight, before everything that has since occurred.

Perhaps, what you long for, whether that be his touch or his coldness or his grace himself, is salvation. Someone who can bestow you with a responsibility so you can make yourself useful, find value in your being beyond a last name and damaged flesh. Despite tonight, you still want his grace to be with you, even if that means he devours you whole by the morning. Because you are already indebted to him for your employment. And you now owe him more than ever for permitting you to invade the confines of his space, to be surrounded by everything that is his, to feel him. To be something special is what you deeply, most greedily covet, and you are fearful that, in the near future, you will not be the only person who can say they have seen the captain without his coat on. Because without his grace, what will you become? Who are you? What are you?

Rather than relieve your body of strain through arousal and pleasure, tonight, he provides tepid comfort through the slow tempo of his hand against your head, an intangible poultice against your physical wounds. Inside, you realize that, all along, the reward has been his grace’s direct kindness and generosity towards you. And you tell yourself to enjoy these last remnants of his undivided attention, and fall asleep.

In the morning, you do as planned. Wake early. Bathe in scorching hot water even though it could rot your untended wounds. Dress in a burgundy long-sleeved gown. Prepare your hair and makeup. Pray that this dawn is not the last sunrise you will share with him.

Before you leave the bedroom to greet his grace, who is no doubt already working in his office, you sigh, filled with a deep sense of shame, disappointment, and mourning, though these words are futile in fully grasping all that festers within you.

But the walls of this bedroom know something you do not. And they think you ought to know, as they watch you leave with palpable dejection.

They have seen their owner evolve and age over time. Yet, they have only seen him exhilarated barely a few times – and rarely excited and riled up by the same thing more than twice.

The walls see, hear, smell everything about their owner.

Last night, amidst your cries, his grace was huffing with exertion, pouring effort and energy into your body. His eyes widened, pupils dilated, at the way your body struggled under his hold, yet you only held him closer. Mouth gaped in awe at how you screeched from the pain yet did not fight back even as an animalistic instinct to survive. He was practically leaking bloodlust, or more specifically, a strong urge to claim, overwhelm, overpower you. And he did so, purposely not leaving you bandages on the night table as always so that the wounds would stay intact. These cuts and gashes and tears shall never disappear from your body, and you will never forget the pain he has inflicted upon you. He has engraved himself into you because, while his righteousness and loyalty to the Tsaritsa come first, he will still return to you when he can. And he does not want you to forget that, even if this reminder comes in the form of garish wounds and the delicate traces of a bracelet in your skin.

The walls know why his grace chooses you. What you really should know is how much of an abnormality you really are. And his grace adores that about you.

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barcaatthemoon · 5 months ago

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mine, all mine || lena oberdorf x reader ||

lena gets jealous when a former teammate of yours flirts with you.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

"why can't we just stay in tonight?" lena asked you as she watched you move all around the bedroom. you usually liked to hit ibiza or greece for your vacation, but when your old team invited you to stay in london for a week, you had to go. lena was more than happy to join you, but that was before gio.

you had already warned lena that some of your teammates could be a bit touchy or flirty. she had come in with a degree of knowing that she wouldn't have all of your time this trip. there had been days of her staying in, and that was fine. however, that didn't stop her from getting jealous when gio's name popped up in all of your stories.

"we have tomorrow to do things," lena tried. she looked at you hopefully, only to completely deflate when you shook your head. "come on, i haven't you to myself for a single night yet."

"you get me all night every night in germany," you told her. "besides, gio is really excited about this place. we were supposed to go before i left, but we forgot."

"fine," lena grumbled as she walked out of the room. you frowned, but kept getting ready. you were on your way out the door when you saw lena standing in the hallway, seemingly waiting for you.

"i thought you wanted to stay in," you said. lena shook her head as she grabbed your hand.

"i just wanted to spend tonight with you." lena pressed a kiss to your cheek. it was sweet, suspiciously so in your eyes. you decided not to bring it up, and instead try to enjoy your night. an arsenal night out was something that you had been missing since you left for germany. your new teammates were cool, but it wasn't the same.

you gravitated towards the dance floor while lena got a couple of drinks for the two of you. lena leaned up against the bar as she watched you dance with alessia and lotte. the night was going much better than what lena had expected it to. you made sure to pull her onto the dance floor for a few songs that you knew lena liked.

"i'm sorry i was being such an ass earlier. i'm having fun," lena said as she wrapped her arm around your waist. the two of you were taking a break, one that you knew you'd need soon. gio was set to be coming in at any moment, and you couldn't wait to spend some time with your best friend. lena was none the wiser, having momentarily forgotten about gio.

"that's okay baby," you told her. things quieted down for a moment, but then they picked right back up when gio walked in. you were practically jumping up off of lena's lap to greet your friend.

lena huffed and crossed her arms over her chest as she watched you and gio. she stayed rooted to her spot in the booth where she could see everything. it wasn't like you completely abandoned her, but lena refused to go dance with you for the rest of the night. you were starting to get a bit upset, but gio and leah were right there to make you smile and laugh again.

"hi grumpy," you cooed as you dropped into lena's lap. lena ignored you completely, even as you cupped her cheeks and tried giginv her kisses. "come on, let's go back to the hotel."

"are you sure?" lena asked. she didn't want to disrupt your good time, even if her blood was boiling as she watched gio dance with you. you nodded as you got up and held your hand out to help her as well. both of you were pretty sober, but for different reasons. you were too busy dancing to really drink much, and lena knew that if she had even a single shot too much there would be an argument.

your ride back to the hotel was rough. lena was oddly quiet, but worst of all, she kept her hands to herself. you hoped maybe the true seclusion of the elevator would bring something out of her, but lena went as far as to brush you off when you tried to hug her. you were terrified that you had gone too far, and the apology was on the tip of your tongue for when you got back into your room.

lena didn't let things get that far. her hand rested on your jaw, holding onto it securely as she pinned you against the wall by the door. your heart was pounding in your chest so loud that you were certain that lena could hear it.

even if she could hear it, nothing was deterring lena from kissing you until you forgot about the entire world around you. all you could think about was the way that lena's lips pressed kiss after kiss against your own. she wasn't being overly rough, but you knew that she was usually much more gentle with you. there was something on your mind, and you had a pretty good feeling about what it was.

"what is all this about?" you asked her. lena didn't even paused as she placed her hands on your thighs and lifted you up into her arms. "lena, what are you doing?"

"all i've wanted all night was you. i thought we should have stayed in. i want to show you what we could have been doing all night," lena told you. she placed you down onto the bed. lena knew how good she looked, and if the smirk on her face had been annoying before she started to undress, it only got worse after. "we both knew that we'd end up here, didn't we?"

"what has gotten into you?" you asked her.

"nothing, but maybe your fingers if you can move when i'm done with you." you were no stranger to all of the ways that lena could fuck you. your first season with her at wolfsburg had been full of nights like this. lena liked to claim that she was perfectly secure in your relationship, but she was an overly jealous person sometimes. the first few weeks after your transfer had lena glaring at every single one of her teammates that looked at you in a way she deemed inappropriate.

lena would do a million things before she ever admitted that she was jealous of someone else. gio was no exception to that rule. since you and lena had been friends before you got together, she knew that you had almost ended up with your former arsenal teammate. it was gio who had pushed you towards lena, ultimately resulting in your loan-turned transfer to germany.

there was nobody else in the world that you could think of sleeping with other than lena. you could tell her this as many times as you wanted to, but you knew in the end, she'd still have her nights like this. you didn't need the reminder that you were lena's, but you welcomed it just like any other night you got to spend with her.

"keep this on," lena swatted your hands away from your own dress. "you look so good in this dress that i just have to fuck you in it tonight."

lena's words made your throat immediately dry up. there were no smiles or jokes like what you were used to. lena seemed deadly serious as she reached beneath the bottom of your dress to pull your underwear down. you didn't know why, but you felt nervous as she held your underwear in her hands. lena ran her thumb over the wet spot on the fabric before she tossed them behind her shoulder, seemingly disinterested.

"what's wrong? that's all for me, isn't it? you wouldn't get so wet for anybody else, would you?" lena asked. you quickly shook your head, and lena leaned forward with a predatory grin on her face. you were so close to giving her what she wanted, and then she'd give you everything that you could handle. "i want to hear you say it."

"it's all for you. i'm fucking soaked for you lena. you and only you," you told her. it was at those words that lena threw her composure away. lena spread your thighs as much as she could without having to take your dress off of your body.

"nobody can fuck you like me," lena told you. she leaned over your body to press harsh kisses to your lips as her fingers set an unrelenting pace in and out of you. the hotel room was quickly filled with the sounds of your moans as lena fucked you.

she didn't give you a moment of rest after you came on her fingers. lena had mentioned you not being able to move, so you knew that lena would keep going until you told her to stop. she would do as much as she could to you with the things that the two of you had brought to england with you. you didn't know all of what was in lena's bag, but you weren't sure if you'd be able to handle the strap when she was ready for it.

"did any of the other girls make you cum like this?" lena asked. she knew that you wouldn't be able to answer her, just like she knew what the answer was. you were writhing under lena's touch, moving both for more and to get away. "i love the way that you feel around my fingers. it's the perfect fit, just another reason that you're always gonna come back to me."

"s-slow down," you warned. lena backed up and dropped down so that her head was between your legs now. you were clenching around nothing with her fingers now grasping at your hips as she cleaned up the mess of arousal with her tongue. it was with lena's tongue sucking on your clit that your second orgasm melted into the third. lena knew what it would take to get you to absolutely soak the bed, but she could tell from the way that you weakly pushed her away you couldn't handle it.

for a moment, everything felt too bright and too cold. lena's body was no longer on yours, but you felt the bed dip again in a matter of seconds. lena was between your legs once more wiping away the mess that had been made. she was gentle with a touch lighter than a feather. she laid with you after, holding you against her chest as you regained your composure.

"can i get up to take my dress off now?" you asked her. lena whined as you started to move away from her. she was usually a little clingy after sex, but this was something else entirely. lena sat on the edge of the bed and moved along with you, watching as you got into your pajamas.

"i love you," lena told you as you got back into bed with her. she was all over you once again, but this time in a much more innocent manner. "i don't ever want to be with anybody else."

"i love you too, lena." you knew what she was looking for. you knew what lena wanted to hear, and you'd repeat it again and again for as long as she needed. "i'm yours, just yours, okay?"

"yeah, i know that. it wasn't like i was jealous or anything," lena huffed.

"so, that wasn't you sitting in the booth pouting for half the night once my friends showed up?" you asked her. lena muttered something under her breath in german, knowing that you didn't understand a word of it. you didn't bother to ask her what she had said, knowing that it was most likely her trying to refute that she had been jealous at all. you had hear every excuse, both in english and german, and it was never any more believable than the last time.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso smut #lena oberdorf smut #lena oberdorf imagine #lena oberdorf x reader

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jessjad · 1 month ago

Text

Rightfully deceived

Chapter 1

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3487

Warnings: 18+ only!!! arranged marriage, lying, some nerves, smut, lost of virginity, first time

A/N: Ya'll get this chapter a day early, because I have two weeks off of work now! 🥳 Okay, here we go. Let's see how this wedding went down. All mistakes are mine! Enjoy! 😊

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

The day before...

"Please, Y/N! You need to help me out here."

The noise in the castle had become significantly louder after the guests had arrived two hours ago. Dean Winchester only had a few men with him, but that didn't make them any less loud. The wedding preparations were largely complete and soon they would have to go downstairs for the evening's feast.

But Helena didn't want to go down. She didn't even want to go through with the marriage the next morning. The younger woman was holding Y/N's hands like a plea with tears in her eyes and had just revealed her great plan of escaping the gruesome future their father had sold her to. Which were Helenas words, not hers.

Apparently she and the young man she was activly seeing in the last months wanted to elope and get married on their own. Y/N had known that these two were very fond of eachother, but she had never thought that it was that serious. Especially not when you have a man like Dean Winchester on your side that shows interest in you.

"Listen, Y/N... " spoke Helena again and brought her back out of her thoughts. "... there is now way this can go wrong. Noone's going to know until the next morning."

"Helena..."

"He won't see you until late in the night. If he's even able to get up the stairs to your bedroom after the wedding celebration." she tried to reason.

"But eventually he will find out that I'm the wrong bride!"

"But then you're already married!"

Y/N huffed and freed her hands out of her sisters grip. This was ridiculous.

"And you think that will make him soften and forget the fact that he got betrayed?"

Now Helena was a little lost for words. "Well... it's not... really betrayal..."

"Yes, it is, Lena! It is betrayal. And what do you think he will do with the arrangment he made with our father? Have you thought about that?"

Silence filled the room, but Y/N could see that Helena was a little fuming inside. Of course her sister did not think about the consequences of her actions and just wanted to do what she wanted. And as the older one Y/N should just say no. But this was Dean they were talking about. Her heart was a little biased here.

"I'm sorry. Y/N. But I'm not going to marry him. I love Peter and he will come and pick me up tonight."

"What?"

"I will be gone in the morning. And if you really care about me, you will let me go and help me out."

Over this revelation Y/N was just stunned and watched Helena turned around and leave the room.

Now...

They all had to be in the chapel in an hour and Helena had made her promise true. Last evening at the feast she was sitting next to Dean, talking to him and being her usual self. And to everyone else very visible, Dean was only even more fond of her as he already had been. It had broken Y/N's heart to watch the scene. Before they went to bed Y/N again had tried to reason with her, but as she knew her younger sister she remained stubborn.

"Where is your sister, Y/N?" her father came over and asked. "She needs to dress and her maid is nowhere to be found."

A little panic rose in her chest. As soon as she was awake, Y/N had looked for Helena, but she was really gone. If she was honest, she could not entirely blame her for going after her heart. She knew how it felt to be in love. It just had been the worst moment to do so. And now, she was running out of time.

"Just... sent Millicent to her. She can help her getting dressed."

Millicent was her own maid and once she was in Helenas room she would understand. Y/N made a decision then and there. After her father left again she ran as fast as she could over to her sisters room and hid in there, waiting for Millie. The dress and veil was already laying on the bed and her heart squeezed a little upon that sight. A knock on the door made her hide behind the screen before she asked who was outside. Whe she heared the voice of her maid she released a relieved sigh.

"Come in and close the door behind you." Y/N said and waited before she came back out from behind the screen.

"Mylady? What..."

"Let noone else enter the room until I'm fully dressed in the gown."

Whilst Millicent's eyes widened in surprise, Y/N already tried to get out of her own dress. After a few seconds of struggleling her maid rushed forward to help her.

"But why are you putting on the dress that belongs to your sister?"

With a small huff Y/N turned to her maid. In the safe space of an empty room with only them two alone in it, they could drop the formal speech and behave freely like the friends they had become over the years.

"She's gone. My sister's gone, Millie."

"What?" came Millie's shocked response. "When?"

Y/N finally stepped into the wedding dress and pulled it up her body over her shoulders. It was a beautiful dress. Red and gold. Expensive. Heavy. And she fitted barely into it. Not only was she a little shorter than her sister, Helena had always been the skinnier one of the two.

"Last night. She didn't want to marry Dean and ran away."

"With this Peter guy?"

"Yeah..."

Millie began to close the dress up on the back and Y/N started to think again. This would only be a temporary fix for the current situation. The calm before the storm.

"So... what is the plan?" the maid asked into the silence.

"Get through the day. Marry Dean... and hope he doesn't completely freak out tomorrow."

Millicent came back around, flatening the fabric on her shoulders before reaching for the veil. The two women looked at eachother for a moment and Y/N knew that her friend understood her internal struggle. She was the only one Y/N had told that she was in love with Dean and it dawned on both that this was going to be a big deal.

A sudden knock on the door startled them and Millie hurried to get the veil over Y/N's head just in time, before the door opened. Her father was stepping in to see if the bride to be was finally ready.

"Oh Helena... you look so beautiful." he smiled and looked so proud. Y/N' stomache started to turn.

"Thanks." she whispered and tried to mimic her sisters lighter voice.

"Well. it's time to go. Your husband is waiting!" he exclaimed excited and left the room again, totaly oblivious to the tension that had build up with every passing second.

Once the women were alone again, Y/N closed her eyes under the veil and took some deep breaths. But when she felt the veil lift a little she opned them back up again and saw Millicent look at her worried.

"Are you ready?" the woman asked quietly.

"No."

Dean's hands were warm. His smile was gentle and he looked really happy. And just for a second Y/N thought it was because of her. Looking up into his smiling face made her heart burst with love for this man who had no idea that he was getting betrayed right at this moment. And just like that the guilt sat in, making her feel bad for doing this in an instant.

"I do." she heard him say with his rich, dark voice before he turned his head back again to the woman by his side.

Now it was her turn to say it. The pastor was already finished with his speech and everyone was waiting for her to answer. She looked back into the room full of people she loved and cared about. Her father already beckoning her to say something with his eyes. She turned her head back to Dean and tears started to sting her eyes.

If he only would've looked at her more than once. If he only would've tried to get to know her too. Maybe he would've fallen in love with her as well. She was not like Helena. Not so pretty and skinny and beautiful. She knew that. But Y/N had always tried to engage in the conversations with him. To make him notice her, see her too. However, it never really worked the way she wished for. But at least for this moment, no matter how short it would be, she wanted to try and make him happy. She wanted to be the woman by his side.

"I do."

Dean felt good. Really good. He was married to a woman that he was truly fond of. She was younger, sure, but that did not seem to bother her too. And now, they could officially be together. To that he had to smile. He reached for his cup and drank a big sip of the whiskey, whilst he looked around the room.

The celebration of his wedding were only midway through, but Helena had already excused herself. She seemed to be a little nervous and obviously wanted to get a little alone time with the other women. He could not blame her. This night would be special, for both of them. Eventhough he already knew what was coming.

"You got a pretty big smile on there, brother."

At that Dean had to chuckle. His younger brother Sam sat down in the empty chair nex to his and sported a smug smile on his face.

"I'm married, Sammy. I've been waiting for this a little while."

"Yeah, but at home were women too that would've married you on the spot."

Dean did not need to ask who he meant. They both knew Sam was talking about Cassie.

"But I always wanted Helena. And now she's my wife."

They both cheered with eachother. Everyone was in a good mood.

"Are you happy?" Sam asked after a couple of moments and Dean turned back to his brother.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Within the next hour the music got a little louder and people drank more and more. It was an exuberant evening. And even though Dean tried not to drink too much alcohol himself, he couldn't hold back because of the good mood. Sam stayed by his side the entire time and a few other of his men joined them to drink and celebrate. It was fun, but he still noticed something.

"Have you seen Y/N?"

Upon that question Sam let his gaze roam over the other participants, but he too could not see her.

"No. Why?"

"I don't know. It's just... I have not seen her all day."

"Okay... so what?" Sam asked. "She's probably busy with other things. She'll have to say goodbye to her sister tomorrow and she's surely with Helena right now." To that Dean nodded his head. "Just like her maid."

"Her maid?" now it was Dean's turn to look at his brother a little surprised. "You mean Millicent?"

"Urm... yeah... if... if that's her name." Sam answered and cleared his throat.

"Ooohh, Sammy! Do you like her?" Dean grined.

"No! Just... shut up." he protested, but the slight red tinge on his cheeks told otherwise.

Dean laughed and kept quiet. But only for a moment.

"Technically she would be older than you."

"Dean, I swear!"

"Okay, okay!"

The older Winchester held his hands up in defeat, but he could not stop the smile on his face. His brother was never a good liar.

Y/N had left the celebration shortly after the food was served. Her nerves had gotten the best of her. She was sweating under the veil and with Dean so close to her she had a really hard time not to give away that it was her and not Helena. But her husband had fun and she did not wanted to ruin it for him.

When she arrived at the new bedroom, Millicent was already there and had prepared a bath for her. The roaring fire in the fireplace had heated up the room nicely. Winter was starting to come around and the nights got colder and colder.

After getting out of the heavy wedding dress and sliding into the hot bath she felt like she could breath again. Millicent stayed with her until she was ready to fall face first into the bed and just sleep the day away. Which seemed to work, but not for long.

It was already late at night and the fire was out long ago, when Y/N heared the door opening to the now shared room. Heavy footsteps followed and she started to hold her breath. To her luck she was laying with her face to the door, away from the window. If she was honest to herself, she had hoped she would be left alone tonight. That Dean maybe would drink so much that he fell asleep in the dining hall. But it seems she was out of luck here.

He stumbled through the room, hitting his foot once or twice on the side of the bed. It was pretty cloudy so there was not much moonlight to illuminate the room. He kicked off his boots and it sounded like he sat down in the armchair near the window.

"Urgh... 'shouldn't have the last drink..." Dean slurred which was followed by a smacking sound.

The next thing she heard was fabric falling to the ground. That was it, right? Now it would happen. Her heart started to beat faster and when she felt the bed dip next to her, she tried to stay as still as possible. After a few seconds the room fell silent again. Only when she started to hear light snoring from behind her, she allowed herself to relax again and drift back to sleep.

The next thing that startled her awake was the warm feeling on her back. It had gotten cold in the room, it was still dark outside and she tried to lean in more into the warm feeling. The heavy arm that was laying over her middle hiked up a little higher, pressing her more to the warm chest.

Upon that realization Y/N opened abruptly her eyes, her heart starting to pick up speed again. But she was not the only one who was awake now. Dean started to kiss softly along her neckline and down to her shoulder. His lips touched her light as a feather and still it set her skin on fire. Then his scent hit her nose. He smelled like wood, whiskey and something warm.

What was she supposed to do now? Noone had really talked to her about every detail with this. What was expected from her and what she had to do. Dean's hands began slowly to explore her body. Careful and gentle. But as soon as his warm hand touched her bare leg she could not hold back a soft moan. His hands felt rough and a little calloused but still his touches were soft.

Dean layed one of his legs over hears so that she had to turn on her back. A little nervous again she did not look into his face. Yes, it was dark, but somehow she feared he would recognize her anyways. With soft fingertips on her cheek Dean turned her face towards him and touched her nose with his, before his lips landed on hers. This feeling was new and almost overwhelming.

On reflex she pressed her hands on his chest only to feel that he was not wearing any clothes. A thrill went through her veins and she let her hands wander over his firm, strong chest. Dean groaned softly and deepened the kiss. Surprised by his actions she opened her lips a little and the man waisted no time to let his tounge slip into her mouth. The only thing she could do was mimic his actions and it felt so good. She did not know if she was doing it right and if, Dean did not let it show.

Now Dean got more adventurous. He rolled on top of her, cageing her in with his arms and nestled between her legs. Y/N could feel something hard against her thigh and there was only one explanation what it could be. It made her feel funny between her legs and somehow it scared her a little. She broke from the kiss, taking deep breaths in and Dean seemed to sense the small change in her.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll be gentle. I promise."

Y/N did not really know what he meant by that and before she could really think about it, one of his hands made their way down between her legs. Oh god, he was about to feel that something was going on there. She tried to close er legs but it was nearly impossible with him laying in between and holding her legs apart with his own.

Another moan left her lips when his fingers touched her sex, massaging her heated core and rubbing soft circles over a certain point that made her feel even better. She began to buckle her hips a little and Dean hummed satisfied before he kissed her again.

His hand picked up speed and she started to feel something build up deep withhin her. She felt one of his fingers enter her but it did not hurt. It only intensified this feeling that had her thriving underneath him now.

"That's it. Yeah, let me feel you."

Dean whispered in her ear and then she couldn't hold it anymore. The sensation was just to much to handle, her moans had become louder and louder and it felt like a hot liquid poured through her body and made her shake, before she collapsed. Her chest was heaving and for a moment she did not understand what had happend just now.

Dean kissed down her jaw to her collarbone and sucked the skin into his mouth. Slowly she came down from this high, but her husband did not stop just there. His lips sucking in her skin distraced her enough before she felt the pressure against her entrance. This was it. This was consummating the marriage.

"Take a deep breath for me." and she did as Dean told her.

With one calculated thrust of his hips he was deep insight her. There was a small sting of pain that did not fade away so fast, but the pressure inside her was the one thing that she really had to get used to. Dean held still, his hands were stroking softly through her hair and when he felt her relax again, he started to move.

Slow at first, so that she had time to adjust to him but that did not take long. He picked up his pace and with every move it started to feel good again. The pain turned into something more and then the coil and pressure in her middle was there again. Now Dean moaned louder as well and she held onto his shoulders.

Just when Y/N thought she could not handle it anymore, she felt Dean's movements get a little out of rhythm and his breathing got heavier. And with his last poweful thrust he took her with him over the edge again while he spilled his hot seed deep insight her with a groan. His forehead landed on her shoulder and Y/N stroked a hand through his hair. Dean kissed her again slow and sloppy, before he rolled down from her and layed on his back.

The slight disappointment that settle in on her upon losing the skin to skin contact with the man she loved, did not surprise her. This was not how she had imagined it, it was better. It was to much and not enough at the same time. So she tried to relish in this bliss that she felt and turned on her sight to face him.

Exhaustion was pulling on her and it got harder and harder to stay awake. Eventually she gave in and closed her eyes with the feeling of an heavy arm on her hip that pulled her close again.

When she woke up the next morning she felt good. Tired and a little sore, but good. The sun was already high up and provided a little warmth. She opened her eyes and saw Dean's face first. He was still laying on his side and supported his head on his hand, looking down at her.

She smiled and was ready to greet him, when the memories flooded back into her conciousness. Her eyes widened in shock as she heard him talk.

"And who do we have here?"

A/N: It all went well until... it didn't. 🙈 The cat's out. What will happen next? Let me know what you think. Feedback is very much appreciated! 💜

@chriszgirl92 @elenasalvatore1 @laurensfangirlingsideblog @moonxlightsworld @muhahaha303

@stoneyggirl2 @ladysparkles78 @allthosepeopleilovetofangirlover @ninii-winchester @itsdesiree86

@foxyjwls007 @jtink27 @lyarr24 @k-slla @tommysaxes

@suckitands33 @pillowjj @hobby27 @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @winchesterwild78

@monkey-d-hoshizora98 @aylacavebear @nikimisery @acid-spiderr @deangirl96

#rightfully deceived #midevial!au #spn #dean winchester x reader #scotish men #scotland #jensen ackles #dean x reader

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prttykittes · 1 year ago

Note

staying anon for this bec i feel disgusting indulging in this.

i’m big on dark/dddne stuff and yet I feel terrible reading it so i’m kinda glad i found somewhere i can kindof have a place to express more extreme stuff.

anyways big sis beidou wants to be your first so right when you turn 18 she takes your virginity :3

or dad zhongli sees that your bf is not what he thinks a BF should be like to he takes him out and makes you his. i mean this is more of a possessiveness than actual NSFW. i dont know😭

Stoner kazuha roofies you (with prior consent tho w this one)

Diluc gives you too much to drink so he fucks you instead.

i have so much more.. and if i ever do come back i’ll be “:3 anon”

do what you want w any of these 💕

Woahh:0, there's alot so I tried my best to do everything blog, I won't shame anyone for liking these things kind of stuff!!<3

ෆ Big!sis Beidou, Stoner!Kazuha, dad!zhongli, diluc X Afab!Reader [you/your]

— Synopsis:: multiple characters x reader, yeah

CW. Incest(father/child, Sister/slibing), smokes, weed, roofies, consent(Kazuha), dubcon(for everyone else), possessive sex(zhongli), drunk sex(Diluc), age gaps, fingering, Dom!characters x Sub!reader, reader wears pants in kazuha's part

A/N :: Multiple sexy characters :4— written by a minor

[MASTERLIST] — ╰⁠(⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠´⁠꒳⁠`⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠)⁠╯ works in link!

BIG SIS! Beidou ! — She was so happy for you! It was your birthday! She got off her boat and went to your parents house! She saw you, you were still gorgeous as ever! She tears up, she was with for 18 years, her lovely slibing.... Oh how she dreamed about this day, she wants to be your first. So she's going to take you to her boat since you had always wanted to go on the water with her! She would spent time with you on there, just you and her. She celebrated your birthday, then she asked if you wanted to go on a ride. You said yes, now your both on her boat but instead of familial love it was filled with romantical love. She was half she was your first, she at first toying with your nipples. She went lower, she can hear you breathing heavily. Your eyes are hazy, your mind cloudy. Her hand was your sex, she rubbed it. She sees your lovely juices on her fingers, she can't wait to claim you as hers. Her sweet, lovely slibing all hers!

STONER!Kazhu— The smell of weed brunt your nose, he was smiling at you. His hand on his chin, his eyes were slightly red. He had his eyes on you, you sat down next to him. "{Yourname}" he says, you tilt your head in confusion. He gets up, his legs slightly trembling, he wraps his arms around you. "Can I?" He said, you knew what he had wanted to do. You never went this far in your friendship with him! You did have dreams and did wish for him to like you, you also had sexual dreams about him. You can't believe what your going to do with him, he smiles. He grabs some pills, he was going to roofie you but instead of doing it without consent. He has your consent, you close your eyes and take it. You gulp and your head feels weird, your eyes become hazy. He smiles and gently lies you on the bed. He is on-top of you, he lays soft and gentle bites on your neck. He continues to do while his kisses gets lower, you close your eyes and let yourself into the pleasure. He toys with your chest, rolling your nipples between his fingers. He pulls down your pants and touches your sex through your underwear. His finger going up and down, pressing on it. "Your so cute..." He mutters, he take soff your underwear and Lena's down and licks at your sex. He smiles when your sex twitches. He coats his fingers in your pre-cum, then he prods his finger at your hole. His fingers scissor your virgin hole, making you more open for dick. You can feel his clothed dick against your leg while he continues to finger you, after some minutes. He stops and and pulls down his pants so his underwear shows and he slides his underwear down and his dick jumps up. He aims his cock at your hole, your hole clenches around nothing as you anxiously wait for it. He grabs a condom and enters you, his hard dick inside of you. He moves once you get used of his size. The motion is lazy and tried but it still feels good. Your virgin hole is not a Virgin anymore!!!

DAD!ZHONGLI !— He doesn't deserve his sweet baby! He stares at you and your boyfriend, he isn't a boyfriend. His boyfriend ideals for you are something like him!! He angrily glares and judges your boyfriend from afar. He can't believe that you chose someone that is trash, he gets so mad that he gets rid of your boyfriend... Oh I wonder how he got so bloody and why he is covered in blood.. don't worry it's not his!!don't worry baby, no need to worry about anything~ he comforts you after you find out your boyfriend is dead, shhh.... You still have him, your daddy is always here for you!! He won't leave you, he is going to make you his, not like you weren't his from the start! His kisses start form your temple to near your lips, his hands on your thigh to inner thighs. You sniff as you lean into his touch, just enjoy his touches. he slips his hand into your pajamas pants, touching your underwear. He continues to kiss your neck, wanting to mark you with his kisses and his touches. His fingers touch your sex and he slips his hand into your underwear, he smiles as he can feel your sex being wet. He pleasures you with his touches, he can't wait to claim you for his own. Emptying his seed inside of you!

DILUC !— He watches you, you weren't this drink from the start but you know... Things change, he continues to give you more. You were worried about the drinks because you wouldn't have enough to pay but you don't care anymore. Your drunken state, it exitces him but it's only with you. He gives you two more drinks and you drink it up fast like you want to please him... Your flustered face makes him want to kiss you and fuck your face but he can't bring himself to do so~ you let out hiccups and you lay your head on the table. He cleans the empty cups and gives you one more, you grab it weakly as you managed to drink it. You rant to him about annoying people and troubles in your life, he smiles as he listens to you. Your face still on the table, your hands are in a fist but then it goes limp. He hears soft snores from you, he walks around and rubs your hips. He blows in your ear, you still don't wake up. Your body is asleep and he could take advantage of it. He groans while he moves you over to more of a comfortable spot. He takes off your lower clothing and slides down your underwear. He sticks his finger in a cup as it is soaked with the alcohol, he pushes inside of you. Your loose and not tight, your whole body being loose. He kisses your forehead and continues to finger your hole, he lets out a grunt. His dick is really hard, he pulls out his cock and aims it at your hole. He can't wait anymore, he spits on his palm and rubs it on his dick. It's unsanitary but whatever because he is going to be inside of you!! His dick enters you, he lets out a groan, he moves his hips. It feels so good, he should do this more often to you until he gains courage to ask you out!!

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scarletts-scribbles · 11 months ago

Note

Reader works for Lena that turns into working buddies with benefits, but reader starts catching feelings. Maybe angst but happy ending?

Highly Unprofessional

⁀➷ Pairing: Lena Luthor x Reader

⁀➷ Notes: Okay so I haven’t written smut properly before so hopefully this is a decent attempt :,) Let me know what you think! Sorry this took a while, its like 3k words long so editing was a bitch.

⁀➷ Summary: When a one-time hookup turns into a regular occurance, it sets off a chain of events which you're helpless to stop.

⁀➷ WARNINGS: 18+ Minors DNI, fingering, cunnilingus, semi-public (I mean its in her office but the door was open oopsie)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

In the bustling chaos of corporate life, where stress reigns supreme the last thing you want to do is mix business and your personal life. It only ever ended in disaster.

When you’d first moved to National City, you’d never imagined just a few short months later you’d be working directly under the city’s most prevenient businesswoman. Lena Luthor was a force to be reckoned with. It was a miracle you’d gotten the position of her assistant at all, your CV was sharp, but it wasn’t anything to be in awe of so when you’d got the call that you’d received the job it was safe to say she was over the moon.

It taken a little while to warm up to you. She’d been a rather cold at first. Not that you could blame her of course, given her family history. However slowly but surely you found her opening up more to you, building up her trust gradually. In the meantime, whilst she’d grown to depend on your assistance, you payed close attention and slowly learnt her tells. You knew when Lena was upset, she’d get that little crinkle in her brows or that when she was anxious, she’d gently bite the left corner of her lip. Infact you’d become so observant of her habits and body language that sometimes you knew how she was feeling before she’d register the emotions herself.

One particularly hectic day in the bustling office, the air thick with tension, you noticed Lena pacing nervously in her office. The telltale signs were there – the crinkle in her brows, the subtle lip-biting – Lena was clearly on edge about the upcoming meeting with a major client.

Truth to told, seeing her like this made you feel anxious as well. How could someone as powerful and accomplished as Lena get so nervous? You’dhad never seen her like this before, and it was almost like seeing a completely different person.

You had to help.

You knocked gentle on the door, clearing your throat quietly to announce your presence, “Miss Luthor?”

A wave of relief washed over Lena as she heard your voice calling through the door. This meeting had been weighing heavily on her mind, and she was desperate to find some way to relax before it started.

“You know you can call me Lena.” She smiled and nodded for you to enter.

You stepped into the room and approached Lena with the gentle warmth and confidence that always radiated from you. She found herself walking over to you, looking at you deeply before taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. You took her closeness as a chance to reach out to squeeze her shoulder and when she didn’t object, you softly applied pressure to her muscles.

“Fuck.” She let the curse split out involuntarily before trying to regain herself, “Do you need something from me?”

“You’re tense, let me help?” You mumbled softly to which she nodded. Your touch was like a balm for her. As you began subtly massaging Lena's shoulders, the tension began to subside, and her frown faded away, you let your hand slide down to her wrist, holding it gently as you pulled her over to the pristine sofa at the other side of her office, “Come, sit.”

"Thank you." Lena took a deep breath and sunk into the seat. She could feel the stress and anxiety that had been weighing heavily on her began to melt away. She turned her head toward you and smiled softly, letting out a sigh of relief. Lena gave in and allowed herself to sink deep into your warm embrace. With her worries temporarily relieved, she closed her eyes and began to enjoy the feeling of your hands working away at her tension.

Leaning in, you reached to place a comforting hand on her thigh, feeling the subtle tension in her muscles. You had no intention’s behind the action. Your touch was light, meant to reassure rather than intrude. But Lena’s eyes slowly opened and cast over to meet yours, her emerald green iris's seemingly sparkling with a new found feeling.

It was obvious she was a little surprised by the gesture, but there was a moment of pause. She tried to be professional, but her body was responding positively to the touch.

The feeling was both calming and exciting, sending a shiver of desire down her spine, the creeping onset on desire making her leg’s bounce nervously.

She looked into your eyes and saw the unmistakable spark of attraction between the pair of you. Of course she’d noticed your lokg glances before and she wasn’t ashamed to say she’d given you some the day you’d left her office when you’d interviewed for the position. Her previous tension was soon replaced with a subtle feeling of arousal, and she couldn't help but crave more.

"Could you...keep going?" she whispered, words shaking through her soft yet overwhelming sensual voice - filled with desire.

“You mean?” Your voice was quiet as you very slowly moved your hand up her thigh, waiting for to confirm her consent, “Is this okay? I need to hear you say it Lena.”

"Keep going," Lena whispered. Her voice was raspy from the tension, but there was no mistaking the excitement in her voice. She wanted you to keep touching her. She craved it. Soaked in the intimacy of your touch. "Please..."

The feeling of your hand gliding over her thighs was intoxicating, sending shivers of arousal through her body. You teased her lightly, fingers reaching her line of her panties. You could hardly fight back your own growing blush at the feeling of the wet fabric. Lena let out a soft moan as you softly ran your finger around her entrance – she was so sensitive. Her eyes closed once again as she leaned back into the couch, surrounding herself to your touch.

Your touch was intoxicating. You kept it light, but your slow strokes were sending her body into ecstasy. Lena's breaths grew shallow as she leaned toward you, her lips meeting yours in an intimate kiss.

"Don't stop," she whispered against your lips, her body urging you to keep going as you edged her sodden clit, rubbing circles as her back arched involuntarily.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” You whispered back with a husky tone as your fingers continued to work their magic on her. You could feel the heat radiating off her body, adding to the intoxicating atmosphere. Your touch became firmer, getting closer to her core, making sure every stroke and tease was intense. You were doing your job finely, the way she moaned into your mouth was driving you wild with validation, knowing you were making her feel good. Truely you were completely under her control, willing to do anything she desired - anything to please her.

With each passing moment, the lust between you both grew more intense, fuelling your passion. Both your excitement only grew with every teasing touch and feather-light kiss. You knew she enjoyed the buildup of anticipation just as much as you did. In the heat of the moment, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself to the moment.

Your hand never stopped tracing along her sensitive folds as Lena’s moans grew louder, encouraging you to continue. She kissed you again and the kiss deepened as she pushed against you, urging you to take control. Her body ached for you as you pressed your fingers against her entrance, playing with her and teasing her. You held her deep in your embrace, feeling her shudder helplessly, her body giving into yours as you continued to stroke her. Finally, you gave into the inevitable and pushed inside, finally giving her the release, she craved.

Lena writhed beneath you, gasping for breath as you drove her toward climax. She muscles were tight against your fingers and you couldnt feel your hand going a little numb from how hard her thighs were squeezed together. She kept her hands clenched in your hair as you felt her body convulsing beneath yours. She moaned, high desperate sounds before finally, with a shudder of ecstasy, she peaked. Her back arching helplessly as she reached her climaxed under your guide.

Once she’d caught her breath, you carefully pulled out of her, making sure to be gentle against her sensitivities. You stroked her hair tenderly, feeling her body begin to relax against you as she came down down from her high.

"Do you feel better now?" you asked her, as she leaned back against you, still breathing heavily from the experience.

Lena sighed softly, a satisfied smile on her face, “So much better," she replied, her voice still light and breathless from the rush "Thank you for helping me relax.”

You brushed your fingers across her cheek, lingering for a beat. The intimacy of the moment was intoxicating, the shared look of pleasure and satisfaction. You couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it than just stress relief. As your head wandered the clouds, you didn’t notice Lena fixing her hair, tying it back in a tight ponytail.

She checked her watch, seemingly debating something for a moment before her voice pulled you back down to reality, “I think we’ve got just enough time.” She said, sitting back down against you, pulling on of your legs over hers, opening you up.

“Enough time for what?”

Lena smirked mischievously, tugging at the edge of your skirt. “For me to return the favour...”

･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ﾟ･

That had been the first of many times you’d helped her relax. It had become a sort of ritual really. Whenever she’d have a big meeting or important event coming up, she’d come to you to help her unwind. Truthfully the first it’d happened; it had taken you a few days to really process it all. The experience had changed you. You couldn’t just see her as your boss anymore. She was more than that. Lena had always had a stunning body of course but now it was almost as if though you couldn’t keep her eyes off her.

The ways her hips curved had you weak in the knees, it wasn’t just her physical attributes though. It was everything, the weak she spoke, the way she held herself. It was intoxicating. Safe to say you were happy to lend a hand whenever needed. Maybe you could’ve kept this up forever, helping her out without a second thought – she was still your boss after all. But this latest time had changed something in you.

It had started off in its usual way, you’d seen the meeting scheduled on the calendar and let yourself into her office – the two of you were way past knocking now. Lena knew what was about to happen, she’d been waiting for it.

As you entered her office, Lena didn't waste any time before pulling you closer to her. You felt the heat and need radiating off of her as she kissed you passionately, her hands moving greedily over your body. You moaned as she pushed you up against the desk, her mouth hot against your neck.

Suddenly, she pulled back, looking at you with a predatory glint in her eyes. "Do you know what I want to do to you?" she whispered, her voice low with desire as her tender fingers danced down the front of your shirt - making a show out of unbuttoning them.

As she spoke, Lena left the kiss and moved down your body with purpose, her lips and tongue leaving a trail of heat and anticipation down your torso. Your hands found her hair, pulling it as if to guide her further where you wanted her. But the CEO had plans of her own. She knew what she wanted and she wanted it now, right this moment. So much so that she hadn’t even bothered closing her office door.

Without warning, she pushed your shoulders down, forcing you to sit on her desk. Lena smirked, moving in to kiss you deeply, so deep that it left you chasing her lips as she pulled away. Without a pause, she pushed your legs apart and planted herself between them, her eagerness so apparent it sent a shiver of desire right through you.

You could feel her looking up at you as she kissed through the fabric of your panties, her hands moving to stroke and soothe wherever they could reach.

You couldn't help but moan now, one hand coming to grip her hair and the other gripping the edge of the desk with such force that your knuckles turned white. You were helpless to resist as Lena worked her way deeper, your grip became more frenzied, less able to control yourself.

It hadn’t taken long before your panties had been pulled down and Lena was happily satisfying herself on your clit whilst you slowly grinded against her face, desire driving you wild.

Then something suddenly caught your attention. You heard someone in the hall…

You tried to voice this but through your whimpers, not much was articulated. Despite this, Lena didn't even flinch when she’d heard them, seemingly not bothered by the accompanying approaching footsteps.

Instead, she kept going, her tongue working magic on you as she held your hips steady with one hand. You could hear people talking just outside the open door, but Lena didn't seem to care. In fact, it seemed to turn her on even more - the thrill of getting caught.

You tried to stifle your moans, but it was impossible with Lena's skilled mouth on you. Your body was writhing on the edge of the desk, your toes curling as the pleasure built and built. And still, she didn't stop.

Lena never broke eye contact with you as she continued to work her tongue and lips over your pussy, sending you further and further into ecstasy. The sounds of voices in the hallway were drowned out by your moans, which the Luthor seemed to be enjoying immensely.

She added a couple of fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit your sweet spot, and you felt your body convulse in response. You couldn't hold back anymore, and you came hard, your body shaking with the force of it.

Lena didn't stop, though; she kept going, licking and sucking until you were overstimulated and sensitive. Finally, she stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she grinned down at you.

“You’re so fucking hot.” She laughed, the sound of her voice sending shivers down your spine again.

Your cheeks blushed crimson as you cleaned yourself up, “Do you want me-” You took a step forward but stopped when she held out her hand, shaking her head as she fixed her hair.

“I just wanted you darling, nothing more. Now if you’ll excuse me. I’ve got a meeting to attend too.”

With that Lena smoothed out the crease in her skirt before heading out the door, leaving you to catch your breath, still perched upon her table.

Darling?

The pet name replayed over and over in your head as the day passed by. You couldn’t stop thinking about her, about these sessions.

It wasn’t just about favours anymore. It felt like she had wanted you. You’d wanted her. God you’d been trying so hard to ignore the fact you’d crave her touch when you were alone. It had gotten to the point where you’d started to miss simply being around her. In fact you’d started coming in earlier and leaving later just to be near her. But you had tried to ignore it. Dammit! Why couldn’t you stop thinking about it!

The rational part of your brain was telling you to pull back, to remind yourself that her actions were just physical and didn't mean anything more. But the other part of you, the part that craved the closeness and heat of your body wanted her for more. You wanted to feel more than just the pleasure of their bodies. You wanted to build a connection, a partnership. You wanted more.

Oh shit... You wanted love.

The realisation had made you sick. What you wanted could never happen. You knew Lena’s life; it was busy and packed. She didn’t have time for something solid. It was why your little favours had worked so well. You’d kept each other going. You could hardly tell her that you wanted more.

Goddamn it!

ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ﾟ･

The ringing it your ears hadn’t really faded since you’d realised. You’d called out of work the past 2 days; you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. Her eyes were a tease, a reminder of what you couldn’t have. Instead, you’d stayed home, trying to wrap your head around all the feelings swirling round in your head, your rapid thoughts never seemed to slow down long enough for you to process them.

You were in love with Lena Luthor.

You were in love with your boss…

Casual sex! That was all it was meant to be, no, no, no! How could you let yourself fall like this?

In all honesty, it felt like you were grieving. Grieving something you could never have. Something forbidden. It was awful.

You felt like shit. It had taken most of your energy to make the treacherous journey from your bed to the sofa - there was no point getting dressed. It wasn’t like you were going to work today anyway. You couldn’t bare the thought of facing her, the thought of it ate you up inside.

As you lay on your sofa, consumed by the weight of your emotions, a knock on the door suddenly startled you. You contemplated just ignoring it, hoping whoever it is will just get the hint, go away and leave you alone. However, the knocking persists, growing louder and more insistent with each rap.

With a heavy sigh, you dragged yourself off the sofa and reluctantly opened the door. To your surprise, it was Lena standing there. A concerned expression etched across her face. Her usual confident demeanor seemed softened by genuine worry.

"Lena?" you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, scanning the disarrayed room. "I've been trying to reach you for days. What's going on? Why haven't you been at work?”

Lena's concerned gaze met yours, and you could sense the weight of unspoken questions in her eyes. Your throat tightened, grappling with the words you hadn't dared to say.

"I... I just needed some time to think," you admitted, avoiding direct eye contact with her, staring hard at the floor, "Things have... changed.”

Her brow furrowed as she took in the gravity of your words. "Changed how?"

You hesitated, then let out a defeated sigh, "I can't keep doing this, Lena. Us. Secretly fucking each other at work just because we can. I don’t want to just be someone of the side anymore, I want to be more than that."

There was a moment of silence as Lena processed your words. Tension hung heavy over the room, a silence so thick you could’ve slice it with a knife, and you wondered if you had just ruined whatever fragile arrangement existed between you.

Finally, Lena spoke up, her soft voice wavering as she spoke, "More? What do you mean?"

"I mean..." You paused, gathering your courage. "I want a real relationship, Lena. Not just these secret little rendezvous we keep having. Lena, I want something genuine."

Her eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability. "I didn't think... I didn't know you wanted that," she admitted, her usual confidence waning.

"I do," You nodded slowly, affirming your words, "I can't keep pretending that this is enough for me. I want more than just physical connection; I want an emotional one too."

Lena took a hesitant step closer, the distance between you diminishing. "I thought we were both on the same page, I thought-.”

"No, Lena, I can't do this anymore," you repeated, the weight of your unspoken desires finally finding a voice, “I can’t keep pretending I’m fine with this anymore. I’m sorry but I just can’t.”

Lena's expression shifted, torn between conflicting emotions. The room hung in suspended silence, waiting for her response.

Lena’s eyes softened, and a vulnerable smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I never realised how much you wanted this," she admitted, a hint of regret in her voice. "Maybe I've been too guarded, too afraid to admit it to myself…”

You felt a mix of relief and hope as Lena continued, “I'd think I’d like to try a real relationship too…”

There it was. The sentence that changed your life. You had a chance with Lena and you weren’t going to let it pass you by. Maybe this time, mixing your business and personal life wouldn’t end in disaster after all… even if it was horribly unprofessional.

✧･ﾟ: *

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tkwrites · 3 months ago

Text

It Doesn't Matter - Part III - Nico Hischier x ofc

Gif from offside-the-lines

Title: It Doesn’t Matter - Part III

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Nico Hischier x Original female character

Summary: Though they’ve finally confessed their feelings for one another, a 7 day road trip stands between Nico and Lena finally beginning their relationship. When Lena sends a photo of herself Nico never expected to receive, it springboards them into new territory. Upon arriving home, he and Lena are finally able to be together in ways they’ve only dreamed of.

Warnings: Lots of fluff, followed by lots of smut (18+ only): oral (f and m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), talks of feeling singled out and a really dick ex-boyfriend.

Word count: 13,400

Comments: Phew! We made it. Just barely.

I gave myself a deadline for this series, liking the idea that I’d publish each installment on the last day of the the month, and I’m really proud that I was able to stick to that goal.

This piece is LONG, so strap in. It was so much fun to write and string together, though. Writing Nico and Lena finally getting together has been such a joy for me. I really hope you enjoy it, too! If there's anything you'd like to see in their universe, please let me know!

If you do enjoy it, please consider letting me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing.

It Doesn’t Matter - Part III

Two days into the road trip, Nico was feeling restless and unsure. He wanted to call Lena and tell her he missed her. He wanted to talk to her about everything and nothing. Hear about her day in class and tell her about practice. Now that they’d crossed that initial physical barrier, he wanted to have phone sex and listen to her getting herself off. He wanted… he wanted so many things, but he wasn’t really sure where they stood. Could he just call her up and initiate a conversation that spanned both their friendship and their newfound sexual connection? Even when they were just friends and roommates, he hardly ever called her to just say hi. That felt too much like something he would do if they were dating, and he couldn't take the disappointment that came with not having that part be true.

Except maybe now it was true?

Staring at her contact photo, he wondered how people did this.

For Lena’s part, she was pacing the apartment, wondering if she should go through with it. Earlier in the day, in a fit of missing Nico so much it ached, she put on the lingerie set she bought the first week she’d moved in, set up her phone and took some photos to send to him. There was one in particular she liked, and she even had it queued up in a message. Now that she had someone to wear it for, and it, amazingly, turned out to be the guy she’d always hoped it would be, she couldn’t get the idea of wearing it for him out of her mind. And why wait until he was home when she could send a picture now?

He was off this afternoon, which meant he was likely napping. She could send it during the game, but there was more of a chance someone else might see it if she did that. And this was for his eyes only.

She thought about prefacing it with a Don’t open this until you’re alone, message, but wouldn’t that ruin the surprise?

Finally deciding it’d be better to send it now, while he was more likely to be alone than after the game, she hit the blue arrow. The whooshing sound let her know it was delivered, and her heart immediately jumped into her throat.

It was too late to take back now, and trying to explain her reasoning over text seemed impossible. She’d just have to wait for him to respond.

Walking to her easel, she decided she needed to distract herself until he did. If she didn’t, she knew she would obsess powerfully and end up sending him something written from pure anxiety, and those messages never turned out well. For all she knew, he could be asleep and wouldn’t see it for another few hours.

The thing was that Lena had never done this before. She'd never sent a picture of herself that hadn't been requested first, and she’d never wanted to.

Past boyfriends wanted to ‘see her when they were apart,’ but that really translated to ‘I want something to show off to my friends.’ She'd been shocked to find Milo showing one of his buddies a picture she’d sent him while they were at a party. Together. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. The picture showed Lena in nothing but her underwear, one arm wrapped around her chest for some semblance of modesty when she didn’t really want to send the picture in the first place. The fact that he had it pulled up and was showing it off so casually made her feel objectified and cheap.

That night, she did the sneakiest thing she'd ever done in a relationship and used his sleeping face to unlock his phone so she could delete all the pictures she'd sent him before breaking up with him the next morning. She even told him what she did. He complained that she was an uptight bitch who didn’t understand he was showing her off, and shouldn’t she be flattered.

Nico would never do something like that. She knew him too well. He would know and had told her that photos like that were for the recipient only and shouldn’t be shared with anyone else. He told her once that one of the guys on the Mooseheads tried to show him a picture of his girlfriend, and the rest of the boys teased him for turning away.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he complained to Lena later that day, “I don’t want to see that.” It was one of the first times she knew he was different, and her rule about not dating hockey players was going to be broken.

It was because of that. Because she knew he wouldn’t show anyone else, and because she had the suspicion he would never ask for something like this that she’d sent it.

The whole time she’d known him, Nico had been the nicest cute boy on the team. Always easy going and quick with a smile, even when he didn't understand what anyone was saying. He never treated her like a piece of meat like some of the guys did, always seeing and celebrating her humanity before anything else. He was genuinely interested in her art, and not just as a means of getting into her pants.

When she met him, and they began hanging out with mutual friends, she remembered thinking, I'm going to tell people I met the love of my life in my senior year.

Setting her phone face down on the end table, she picked up her palette and brush and turned her focus to the mountain sunset she’d been working on all week.

When Nico's phone buzzed with a text from Lena, he opened it right away, anxious to hear from her. He didn't think anything of the preview that told him it was a photo. She often sent memes or funny photos of Cookie around the apartment or progress on her latest painting.

Had he thought this might be anything close to possibility, he would have opened it in the bathroom.

An embarrassing noise, overflowing with longing, crawled up his throat.

Jonas shot him a confused look, and Nico had to act like everything was normal. Like he wasn’t taken completely off guard. Like he didn’t have a hard on in their hotel room. Like Lena hadn’t just sent him a picture of herself in pink lingerie, winking cheekily at the camera.

He wanted to bury his head in a pillow and groan. He wanted to call her and tell her how beautiful she was. He wanted to detail each and every way he was going to make her come when he got home.

“I’m —” Nico coughed, “I’m gonna go on a walk,” he told Jonas, bolting out of bed and into the hallway. Maybe this was worse. Now, he had a boner in public. He needed a place where he could talk to her alone.

There was a conference room the coaches were using this morning, wasn’t there? He ran down the hall and found the room empty and blissfully unlocked.

The whole wall facing the hallway was glass, but it’s not like he was going to do anything indecent.

The call went to voicemail.

Frowning, Nico pulled the phone away from his ear. Certainly, in the time it took him to run down the hall, she hadn’t gone away from her phone. And she didn’t send that thinking he wouldn’t respond, right? That would be crazy. No woman would send a picture of herself like that if she didn’t want a response.

The device buzzed in his hand, and he felt a sigh let go in his chest. “Hey,” he greeted, bringing it back to his ear.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding a little breathless, “I didn’t want to drop my palette all over your living room.”

“Thanks,” he said, laughter in his tone. He was amazed she could just go back to painting after sending a message like that. He’d be a nervous wreck.

The awkwardness that passed over the phone line between them made Lena’s heart race with indecision. How was she supposed to broach this subject? Did you get the photo I sent? Do you want to talk about it? Are you calling me because it had the desired affect?

Finally, she decided to go into neutral territory, “so, how are you?”

How was he supposed to answer that question?

“I got your message,” he said, wincing at the accusing tone in his voice. He didn’t even answer her question.

“Did you…” she felt suddenly self-conscious, “I mean, did you like it?”

Did she think he was blind? “Yeah, I wouldn’t have minded some warning, though,” he admitted. The sound that had come out of his mouth when he opened it rang in his head, and he felt himself flush out of embarrassment.

“Sorry,” she said, voice sheepish. “I was debating about telling you to open it alone, but I just kind of freaked out and sent it.”

Laughter rumbled from his chest, “you don’t need to apologize. I really liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t know a man alive who wouldn’t like getting a picture like that from the woman he loves.”

The casual way he said he loved her made her heart pitter-patter.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Lena,” he said.

She liked that he used the word seen. Not the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, the most beautiful he’d ever seen. Heat raced into her cheeks, “really?”

“Yes.” It almost came out a groan. Just thinking about it got him worked up, but now that they were on the phone, he didn’t think it was the time to broach phone sex. Maybe that was her intention in sending it, but their conversation was too sweet and awkward to steer in that direction. He didn’t want to ruin it, or for her to think he only wanted her physically. He wanted every part of her.

His simple answer turned her insides to goo.

She sniffed, and panic spiked in his chest. “Are you crying?”

“A little.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong,” her voice was wobbly, “I just…I can’t really believe this is my life, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I spent six years pining after you, thinking you didn’t like me, and now you’re telling me I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. It almost doesn’t feel real.”

“Yeah,” he swung his legs up onto the sofa under the windows and lay back. “The whole time we were kissing, I kept thinking I needed to pinch myself.”

She giggled, knowing the feeling all too well.

“I wish I told you sooner,” he said quietly.

“Tell me about it,” she groaned.

He knew he would beat himself up about this, and his siblings would hold how they were right about Lena over his head for the rest of time.

“I can’t believe you sent me a picture of yourself in lingerie,” he said, voice full of wonder and longing. “I don’t think I ever even let myself imagine that.” The reality of it was too much. It made their relationship more tangible somehow.

“I missed you, and I just kept thinking about how I finally had someone to wear it for other than myself, and I don’t know, I just…I wanted you to see it.”

Her admission made his insides feel gooier than a raclette. “I miss you too,” he said, glad he hadn't steered the conversation to sex. That would come, he knew, but he was glad for this reassurance.

They fell into a comfortable silence, and Nico pulled in a calming breath.

“How was class on Friday?”

“Good. Professor Brown really likes my sketches.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, she said I really turned a corner and understood what she was trying to get us to do.”

“That’s great.”

Posing for her would have never been in vain when it brought them together, but he was glad the art wasn’t going unnoticed by her teachers.

“She wants to put them in the student showcase for this semester.”

His mouth went dry. “What?”

“She said they’re such a cohesive story and series, she’d like to put them in the showcase. It’s a huge honor. I told her I had to talk to you before I could say yes, though.”

Mind racing, Nico wondered what on earth he’d gotten himself into.

“I…” he paused. “How —” his voice squeaked over the word, and he had to clear his throat, “how long would they be up?”

“Basically through December. I think the show goes up that first weekend.”

That was only a few weeks away.

“And they take it down when we come back after the break, so mid-January, I think.”

“I just…” he gulped, “I — what if someone recognizes me?” It was highly unlikely people who attended art shows at the New York Institute of Art would know him on site, but the thought of a fan seeing the sketches and recognizing him posing nude still made his stomach turn.

“Well, they won’t be up for sale, so no one will be taking them home but me,” she assured.

That was a relief.

“I could try to take out your tattoo, make you a little less recognizable.”

He didn’t respond.

“You don’t have to decide now. You can take time to think about it.”

The hesitation in her voice made his mind up for him. He wouldn’t be the thing holding her back. He’d figure it out.

“You should show them,” he found himself saying.

He’d have to tell the teams PR about it in case someone posted them on social media.

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. I’m…” Why hadn’t he led out with this? “I’m really proud of you.”

Her insides turned to pudding again, “thank you, Nico.”

He would figure it out. It would be fine. The most important thing was that she was getting the recognition she deserved. “We can go see it together?” he asked.

“They have a gallery opening I’ll have to attend. I’ll have to make sure, but I think it’s on the 6th.”

He pulled up the team calendar. They were, thankfully, in town and didn’t have a game that Friday. “I can come.”

“I would love that.”

“I want to be there to support you.” She supported him through so many things, he was glad he could return the favor. “I can invite some of the guys?”

“Only if you want,” she said, feeling a little taken aback. “If you’re okay with them seeing the drawings.”

“It’s nothing they haven’t seen before,” he said with a laugh, “and I want them to know how talented my girlfriend is.”

“Oh, am I your girlfriend now?” she asked, teasing.

If it were up to him, she’d be his wife before too long. “Yes. Finally.”

She giggled, “I never thought I’d actually get to call you my boyfriend.”

The excitement in her voice pulled a giddy feeling in his stomach.

Someone knocked on the window above him, and Nico sat up, startled. Jack was on the other side of the glass, exaggeratedly asking him if he wanted to go into the city.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I have to go,” he said, nodding at Jack.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you soon?” she said it like a question.

“Yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“That sounds great.”

He could hear the smile in her voice, and it filled his chest with a warm, buoyant feeling. Turning away from the window, he said, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Nico. Good luck tonight. I’ll be watching.”

Lena hung up the phone, shaking her head. She'd gone into that call expecting phone sex, and instead, she got emotional reassurance. How was he even real?

He hung up the phone, grinning.

“What’s got you all cheery? Who was on the phone?”

“Lena,” he said, slipping the device into his pocket.

“Dude, you’ve got to make a move.”

Nico smiled to himself. He’d tell Jack and the guys eventually, but for now, he was just reveling in the fact that he had, and it turned out better than he ever imagined.

The photo haunted him for the rest of the road trip. It wasn't even the picture itself, which did live in his mind rent free, and he'd jerked off to at least three times. No, the thing that really haunted him was the fact that she sent it in the first place, that she felt comfortable enough to send it, that she wanted him thinking about and desperate for her. And he was desperate, in a way he'd never experienced before.

He wanted her to feel the same way, but knew from experience that she didn't like dick pics.

In a fit of indignation after receiving one on a dating app, she'd handed him her phone to unmatch the guy as she told him, “I don’t know why men think everyone wants to see their dick. I can promise you, no one wants to see your dick. Unless a woman tells you, ‘send me a picture of your penis,’ she doesn't want to see it. Even if she sent you a picture to get off to, she doesn’t want to watch you do it unless she asks for it.”

He'd asked her what a woman did want.

“Send her a picture of your hands or your forearm while you’re doing something. Men's forearms are sexy.”

So he'd done just that. A video, actually, strategically cropped to show the flex of his forearm and wrist as he got himself off in their next hotel while her name fell from his lips over and over again. He didn't even need to look at his phone anymore. The photo was burned into his brain and etched onto his eyelids.

She responded within minutes of him sending it. That's the sexiest thing a man has ever sent me, Nico. I can't believe you remembered.

The video popped into her mind all the time. She couldn't stop thinking about his big hands and the veins winding up his forearm, standing out under his skin. She couldn’t stop hearing the hushed, breathy way he moaned her name.

It even happened in school if she let her mind wander, which resulted in her creaming her underwear and having to clench her legs together until the feeling eased off.

Touché, Mr. Hishier. Touché.

Four days later, Nico walked into the apartment, surprised to find lights still on. It was Friday night, but still, Lena usually went to bed early. No matter the day, her biological clock kept a rigid schedule.

Perhaps she left the lights on when she went to sleep, not wanting him to come home to a dark house. As he walked through the living room, however, he found her on the couch, asleep with Cookie tucked against her like a little spoon.

“Lena?” he asked, squatting in front of her.

She didn’t even stir.

“Lena,” he repeated, gently brushing a lock of hair off her forehead.

He loved this simple version of her - the peaceful, soft lines of her face and the gentle curve of her mouth. Her nose ring was slightly off center with her on her side, but it still fit on her face like it was a permanent feature that had always been there. When she showed up in Bern, having had it done just a few weeks previous, it had taken him a full half hour to realize what was different. It fit her and her personality so well, it didn’t stand out as a major change in his mind.

He hadn’t thought it was possible he could think about kissing her more than he already did.

“Nico?” she asked in the most adorable sleepy voice he’d ever heard. The visions he had of waking up next to her were suddenly much more real and much sweeter than he originally imagined.

“What are you doing out here, hase?”

Her eyes finally fluttered open, and her stomach clenched when they met his. His hair had flopped into his eyes, but she could still clearly see the soft care in them. He was in a gray Devils hoodie that looked supremely soft.

Cookie stretched, yawned, and slinked out from under her arm as she reached forward to trace her fingers through his hair, pushing it back. “You’re so handsome, Nico.”

The dimple in his left cheek deepened with his bashful smile. He wasn’t used to her complimenting him so openly. “Danke, hase. What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting up for you,” she said with a chagrined smile, “or trying to at least.”

“Lets get you to bed,” he said, standing before he worked an arm under her legs, the other under her shoulders, and lifted her off the couch.

Lena snuggled into him with a contented little noise. She hadn't been carried like this since she was a little kid.

He lay her on her bed, then pulled the covers out from under her body before settling them over her.

“Will you stay?” she asked, quietly.

Something behind his sternum fractured a little. “Natürlich,” he murmured, brushing a kiss over her hair. “Let me go get ready, ja?”

She nodded.

Nico thought for sure she would be asleep when he got back after washing his face and changing into some pajama pants, but though she was still in the same position he left her in, her eyes were open and she gave him an adorably sleepy smile.

In some sort of dream came true, he walked around the bed to slip in behind her.

Except Cookie was laying there, pressed against her back, blinking at him slowly as if to ask why Nico was there and what he thought he was about to do.

“Uh,” he began, not sure what to do.

“Just move him over here.”

So Nico took the cat around the middle and lifted him over Lena. He squirmed and made a grumbling noise but didn’t swipe. Before he could jump off the bed in a fit of indignation, Lena gathered him against her chest and kissed his head.

Cookie grumbled again. It was apparently all for show, though, because he settled in her arms almost at once and began purring and nuzzling her chin.

Now that that was settled, he lifted the covers and slid under them.

Lena felt a contented little sigh escape her as he fitted his body against hers. The oxymoron that was Nico Hischier hit her again. He was big and strong, but he was so gentle and warm as he wrapped his arm around her waist over the blanket. She felt cocooned and protected.

Cookie turned around and nuzzled his head under Nico’s hand. Chuckling, Nico scratched behind his ears and heard the purring start up again.

“I’m glad you're home,” Lena said in that slow way people do while they’re falling asleep.

“Me too,” he responded, tucking his nose into her hair and settling in for the night.

Though he’d lived the past week, it still felt a little like he didn’t know how he ended up here, or like he should be dreaming. Yes, he dreamed of making love to Lena, but more often than that, he dreamed of these things: of not going to bed alone, of taking care of her, and being taken care of. Not only was he not going to bed alone, she asked him to stay. He felt comfortable holding her, and she felt comfortable enough to lean against him, letting him support her. More than anything else, it felt incredible to be genuine about his feelings and to have them lead to this moment.

It was the best thing he could have asked for.

The fatigue that always came with coming home from a road trip caught up with him abruptly, and before he could think about anything else, he was falling asleep.

Lena woke before Nico did. Which wasn’t unusual. She almost always woke before anyone else in the house. No matter when she’d gone to bed, or what she’d done the day before, she was almost always up before 6:30. It’s why she’d been so shocked to find it was already 9 the morning after their portraiture session.

Her watch told her it was twenty-two minutes past six.

Sensing movement, Cookie stretched and put his face in hers, brushing his whiskers over her cheeks.

She wrinkled her nose at the tickling sensation. “Okay,” she whispered as he put his wet nose to her brow and licked with the tip of his tongue, “okay.”

Nico’s arm was still heavy around her waist, but he only stirred a little when she lifted it so she could slide out of bed.

She fed the cat, drank a glass of water, and went back to the bedroom.

Nico was still asleep, now sprawled on his back, legs and arms spread wide to take up as much room as possible.

The blankets only covered part of his naked torso. Allowing herself a moment, she admired him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the relaxed set of his fingers, his slightly open mouth. He was a beautiful man. the fact he was in her bed, that he'd held her all night, made her feel as giddy as a school girl.

Sneaking back into bed was always harder than leaving it.

She’d just managed to tuck herself into his side, resting her head on his chest, when his arm curled around her back.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said quietly.

His lips smacked softly. “S’okay,” he mumbled.

“Do you have practice this morning?”

She felt him shake his head, chin tracing over the top of her hair at the movement.

“No practice and no game?” she asked, tracing a finger up the valley between his pecs through the course hair that had been getting thicker through the years. “What are you going to do with yourself?”

Tightening his arm around her, he nudged Lena on top. She went willingly, draping herself over him.

“Can think of a few things.” His voice was low and sleepy, and when she looked into his face, she found his eyes were still closed.

Wonder at how comfortable they were filled her. Of course they were — they’d known each other for more than half a decade. But all these milestones, like waking up in the same bed, were new. She’d never experienced this in a relationship before. There were no nerves eating at her stomach, and no worries about how she looked in the morning plaguing her. He’d seen her in much worse morning states before and never said a thing. It was just Nico, comfortable as always.

Lying her head on the front of his shoulder, she listened to the steady beat of his heart and the strong rhythm of his breathing.

That music was lulling her back to sleep when his hand slid up her back, under her sleep shirt. She didn’t know if that part was intentional or not. She supposed it didn’t matter. She still savored the feel of his calloused fingers.

“Your skin is so soft,” he mumbled as his fingers splayed wide over her spine.

“So is yours,” she said, adjusting a bit so she could tuck her nose into the base of his neck. He smelled the same as usual, soap and sweat, and that something cedar-y, plus a musky smell she somehow knew only came with sleep.

He chuckled and said something in German.

“Come again?” she asked, lifting her head.

One half of his mouth lifted in a smile, dimpling his cheek, but he didn’t offer any other explanation.

Shaking her head, Lena rested her ear against his shoulder again, sighing when his fingers traced lazily up and down her spine.

Nico couldn’t believe this was his life. Waking up next to Lena was so good. Having her comfortable weight on top of him on a lazy morning? It was such a dream. Even the very fact that he got to touch her like this now felt like a miracle.

Before he could think it over, his sleepy brain was running his mouth, “I can’t…”

“You can’t?” she repeated. Her other hand came up to trace the straight line of his collar bone.

“I can’t believe I get to touch you like this,” he said.

She smiled and turned her face just enough to press her lips to his skin. It sent an explosion of fizzy, giddy bubbles racing through his stomach.

“I should have told you sooner.”

“Me too.”

Each of them had said some variation of these same sentences each time they’d talked on the phone over the past five days.

“But we’re here now,” she said, fingers trailing over the round musculature of his shoulder and back. She felt a little amazed that she could touch him, too. She’d wanted to for so long, and now, she could. There was nothing holding her back. It felt a little like she’d dropped into a dream.

He took in a deep breath, and she loved feeling his muscles move and shift beneath her.

“What do you have today?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he repeated.

“Nothing but you,” she said, pushing herself up so she could look into his face.

The smile he gave her was lazy and tired, but it still sent butterflies into flight in her stomach.

Because she could, because that’s where they were now, she leaned down and kissed him.

His other hand came up to cradle the back of her head.

She was kissing him. In the morning. After sleeping next to her all night. Feeling his brain come to life while her sweet mouth was on his? There was nothing better. Nico wouldn't mind waking up like this every morning.

They spent a long while in a sweet, lazy exploration of each other.

Lena worked one of her hands into his hair as she tipped to the left to deepen the kiss.

When Nico caught her tongue, sucking gently, a soft moan fell from her mouth into his. She'd never had someone do that before, and now couldn't imagine kissing without it.

“I love that sound,” he mumbled, lips whispering over hers.

She hmm’d and silenced him again with her mouth.

Though they still remained soft, their kisses grew more urgent, as did Nico’s growing erection, which pressed insistently against her thigh.

The deep desire purring in her belly shifted into a higher gear.

“Can I use my mouth on you?”

She'd been thinking about it for so long, imagining the pleasured noises she could pull out of him. She’d thought about it so many times while he was gone, she couldn’t wait to bring it to fruition. The memory of the way he groaned her name when she was touching him had been the fuel for many lonely night sessions with her vibrator.

“Was?” he breathed, certain he hadn't heard her correctly.

“Can I use my mouth on you?” She repeated, trailing kisses along his jaw for good measure.

Fuck.

FUCK.

Was this his real life? He pinched his side and flinched from the pain. He wasn't dreaming, then. Not that he’d really thought that. When he dreamed of her going down on him, it usually started with her lips wrapping around him, not with her asking permission.

His eyes fluttered open to meet hers. “Has anyone ever said no?”

Her cheeks flushed. “I don't know. This is the first time I've asked. Every other guy I’ve been with requested before I could offer.”

“Did you think I would say no?”

“Maybe? Sometimes, I'm just not in the mood for stuff, you know? I don't want to just start in on something you're not ready for. That's not fair to you.”

He'd never had someone ask before, and the sweet thoughtfulness of it broke him open a little more to her.

“Only if you want to,” he whispered, leaning up to brush his lips over hers, “and only if I can return the favor.”

Her breath hitched, and her wide eyes darted to his.

“I’ve been thinking about how you taste since last week,” he confessed, voice gone gravely with the memory of cleaning her release off his fingers.

“Nico,” she whispered as heat pooled between her legs.

“When you sent that picture, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I wanted to do to you.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded, hands sliding up her sides. Her shirt bunched atop his wrists.

She leaned down so her lips were a breath away from his ear, “and what do you want to do to me?”

Though she had him practically panting, his voice somehow still came out a low tambour. “I want to lick you over that lace before I take it off and make you come on my tongue.”

“Oh my god,” she whispered, core throbbing at the mere thought of it. “I…”

If someone told her, even just five days ago, that Nico Hischier had such a dirty mouth, Lena wouldn’t have believed them. He was usually so polite. She’d never even imagined him saying something like that.

She liked this filthy-mouthed side of him she’d never seen before. Why had she waited so damn long to tell him?

Rolling them onto their sides, he pressed his lips to her neck, unable to keep his mouth off of her anymore.

“Do you want me —” her voice dropped into a moan as he pushed her onto her back, licking and sucking along the column of her throat.

“Yes,” he growled into her skin, “so damn much.”

“Do you want me to put it on?” she finally managed to ask, gasping the words out before he could steal her breath again.

Lifting his head, his brown eyes met hers. He had that same wide open, loving look in them. “Put what on?”

Why would she put anything on? He was far more interested in shedding her clothes.

“The lingerie.”

Oh.

Well.

That was a bit different.

Lena watched his eyes go dark with lust.

“You’d do that?” he whispered, touched and incredibly turned on.

Nodding, she bit her lip before deciding she could just blurt it out, “I want you to do what you wanted to, and I want to see your reaction.”

Now that he’d brought up the idea of licking her over her underwear which, what the hell, sounded so hot she could hardly stand it, she needed to feel it. She wanted THAT to be her first experience with his mouth.

Nico was such an excellent kisser, she knew he would be good at oral. Plus, the idea of wrapping her fingers in his hair as he went down on her? That fantasy had been in regular rotation for years.

He paused, seemingly caught between saying yes and just continuing as they were.

Maybe he needed a little more incentive. “What if I put it on to suck you off?” she asked, voice seductive and low in his ear.

With a soft groan, he buried his face in her neck. He had to admit, fulfilling the initial fantasy that had flooded his mind when she sent that picture was incredibly tempting, and if it included her wearing it to go down on him? That was a fantasy in and of itself. He couldn't find his voice, but he nodded all the same.

“Meet you in your room in five minutes?” she suggested.

Five minutes felt like an eternity when she was under him now, but he knew they would be worth it.

“Okay,”

A few minutes later, she knocked on his doorframe, and he spun. She had a soft looking robe on. Green with matching lace trim.

He looked almost instantly disappointed.

“I thought you might want to take it off,” she offered quietly, taking a few steps toward him.

He was still just in his pajama pants, the band of his boxers peeking above the waistband. God, why was that always so sexy?

Though he appreciated the gesture, Nico shook his head.

Stopping abruptly, Lena confirmed, “no?”

Shaking his head again, Nico managed to clear his throat and tell her, “want you to.”

Fingers trembling with excitement, she pulled one end of the tie, slipping it from the bow.

This was an exercise in a kind of vulnerability Lena had never experienced before. Yes, Nico was her best friend, and she trusted him with her life, but she’d never undressed in front of someone like this. This wasn’t just about seduction. This was about bearing herself to a man she loved and who she knew loved her. There was anticipation, but no nervousness, longing, but no worry. There was love and more love and more love under that. She’d never felt like that before.

This wasn’t some kind of strip tease meant to thrill. No, she was bearing a piece of her soul.

Nico found he was holding his breath and made himself pull air into his lungs.

Lena grasped the two sides of the robe and pulled them apart until they slipped over her shoulders. The fabric puddled to the floor around her feet.

A noise he couldn’t control flew out of his mouth. God, if he thought she looked beautiful in the picture, it was nothing compared to this. To the reality of her standing in front of him. She was real — supple skin and hazel eyes and curves he wanted to spend his entire life traversing — right down to her hands, which were splayed over the flesh of her hips as if she didn’t know what else to do with them.

She was…she was a goddess. He would worship her every day of the week. “You’re so beautiful, Lena,” he croaked.

“Thank you,” she said, a blush pinking her cheeks.

“Can you —” he had to pause to clear his throat.

She nodded encouragingly.

“Can I see the back?”

She let out a little giggle and turned for him, looking back over her shoulder.

The back of the bra was fairly standard - straps and a band that was secured by a row of hooks. The underwear were anything but. They cut high on her cheeks and perfectly accentuated the curvature of her hips. His jaw went slack.

This was a better response than she could have asked for. When she’d bought this set, one of the selling points was how good the panties made her ass look. Having Nico appreciate it to the point of open mouthed silence, sent a delighted thrill through her.

“Now you?” she said, turning back around and nodding at his pants.

Taking a deep breath, he worked his thumbs under the waistband of his pajamas. Pushing the elastic over his hips, the cotton fell down, and he stepped out of it.

Lena let out a thick sigh, eyes roaming over him, from the bob of his Adam’s apple and flex of his stomach to the dark hair trailing from his belly button into the elastic band of his briefs and the lighter hair that crept up his thighs. She'd seen all these things before as an artist, but now, she was seeing them as a woman. She didn't have to stuff down her desire or try to channel it through her pencil. She got to admire him as a woman who wanted him.

When their eyes met again, his were nervous, as if waiting for a verdict. Instead of saying anything, she took the few steps forward, slid her hand to the back of his neck, and nudged him down as she raised herself on tiptoe.

Their lips met, and that feeling of rightness filled Lena again. As her tongue swept into his waiting mouth, she pressed herself against him.

Taking the time to savor the feel of the lace beneath his palms, Nico caressed her hips slowly before sliding them around to cradle her rump.

She broke the kiss, and his hands were suddenly sliding up her body as she lowered onto her knees in front of him. “Shit, Lena,” he breathed.

A coy, sexy smile took over her face, and Lena leaned in to press her lips to his right thigh. The muscle jumped beneath his skin.

“Wait.”

Pulling back to sit on her haunches, Lena looked up at him, surprised. No man had ever told her to stop when she was setting up to suck him off.

Half of Nico’s brain was in his dick, but he needed to get this right. “I went first last time,” he said.

“It’s not like we have to take turns.”

“I know, but I want to give first.” When she didn’t move, he added on a slightly desperate, “please.”

She nodded, and he took her hands to pull her to her feet. They turned so her back was facing the bed, and he smiled indulgently at the way she had to do a little hop to sit on the mattress.

“Lay back,” he said.

She scooted up to the pillows and did as he instructed.

She was a fantasy in his dark sheets.

Biting his lip, he paused to admire her for a moment before climbing onto the bed and covering her body with his. As their mouths met in a passionate, desperate kiss, he settled between her legs. He rutted his hips into her, and she moaned. The sound made him heady, and he did it again just to hear it. If they kept that up, he would be begging her to let him fuck her right then. But he knew from fingering her the week before that she would need to be relaxed and stretched a bit before she could take him comfortably. Plus, now that she was in his bed in this lingerie, he had to bring his desires to life. And he really fucking wanted his mouth on her.

He broke from the kiss and trailed his lips over her chin and down her neck and chest. Too impatient to wait, his mouth found her pebbled nipple, teasing it through the fabric of her bra.

Lena had never felt anything so hot in her life. Her hands wove into his hair, and she moaned. “Nico. Oh my god.”

He moved on too quickly, but before she could complain, his lips were skimming over her stomach, down to the band of her panties. The memory of his confession crashed into her mind.

I want to lick you over that lace before I take it off and make you come on my tongue.

She writhed beneath him.

He nosed her mound gently, playfully, and glanced up to her face. “This is still okay?”

“Yes!” she hissed, voice pulled tight. “Please, Nico.”

Who was he to deny what she wanted?

Spreading her thighs with his hands, he leaned in and trailed his nose up the gusset of her underwear. His mouth started to water. Shit, she smelled so good.

He couldn’t hold back any longer. His tongue met the lace, licking a slow stripe up the center. He could almost taste her through the fabric. The sweet, tangy flavor he'd been craving for a week was so close.

Lena could almost feel him. There was pressure, and the heat from his breath was there, but the full stimulation of his tongue wasn't. Experiencing him like this was so hot, the anticipation of feeling him built and built until it felt like she may just explode. She let out a wanton moan of his name.

He teased her until her hips were grinding up, and her breathing was coming out in hot puffs. He teased her until he couldn’t take it anymore.

She whined when he pulled back but cut the noise off when his fingers slipped into the band of her underwear and started pulling it down. Desperate to please, she lifted her hips, allowing him to peel them from her body more easily.

He took his time, running his hands down her legs, and when the fabric was free, he brought it to his nose just to work himself up a little more. His dick twitched.

“Fuck,” she whispered. Who knew her polite, cheerful Nico had this side to him?

He almost wished he was still wearing pants so he could slip her panties into his pocket. Instead, he tossed them over the side of the bed. He’d pick them up later.

Settling between her legs again, he looked up to meet her gaze over the expanse of her body. Propped up on her elbows, her chest rose and fell, testing the limits of her bra with every inhale. He could hardly stand it.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

She blushed. How did he know exactly what to say? Could he read her thoughts or something?

“You’ll tell me if you don’t like something,” he verified, “or if you want something else?”

Only after she nodded did he get to work, plunging his face between her thighs like he’d been dreaming of for years.

A sense of deep satisfaction rumbled in his chest when she cried out.

She tasted the same, like he remembered, and better: sweet and tangy and fresh. He couldn't get enough. He licked and kissed and teased and tasted.

Falling back against his pillows, Lena moaned his name.

Her left hand found its way into his hair again, weaving the long, soft strands through her fingers. The reality of this fantasy coming true made her shake as much as his clever tongue did.

He moved to lap at her entrance, which was not where she wanted him at all.

“Nico, I –” her voice cut off with a moan as his nose nudged her clit.

Fuck it. Tightening her fingers into a fist, she tugged on his hair, guiding his mouth where she needed it.

He grunted into her as his lips surrounded her throbbing pearl, so eager for his attention.

“There,” her voice was a breathy pant that made his heart race, “right there, Nico.”

Hands tightening on her thighs, he feasted.

Her hips shifted, and even though it made it near impossible for him to breathe, he kept on, intent on his mission.

“Suck.”

It took half a second for his brain to understand her word as a command. He obeyed, and the groan she let out made him light headed. Or maybe that was the lack of oxygen. It didn’t matter. There was no way he was stopping until she was falling apart beneath him.

He thought briefly about using his fingers, but no. He wanted to make her come like this first.

His lips and tongue continued working their magic on her. Pressure built and tingled in her pelvis until it spread, shooting down her legs and making her toes curl.

“Nico,” she gasped.

When he glanced up, he found her right hand cupping her breast, thumb and forefinger teasing the peak of her nipple through the lace of her bra. The sight of it — of her adding to her own pleasure — made his eyes roll back.

The vibration of his groan lit her on fire. It was the final push she needed to tip over the edge.

She crashed in an explosion of color and sound as his eager mouth kept working, sending wave after wave of ecstasy rushing through her body.

The pleasured noises she chanted were the most beautiful music he’d ever heard. She pulsed under his mouth, and he lapped at her release. He wanted to drink from her fountain for the rest of his life.

Coming back to herself, Lena pushed him away from her core before the overstimulation could turn into pain.

The sight of him — eyes hooded with desire, mouth and chin wet with her orgasm — made her moan again as he pushed himself up.

Nico felt drunk. Drunk on her pleasure and the fact that he’d been the one to pull it out of her.

He licked his lips, pulling more of her release into his mouth before wiping his face with the back of his hand.

He lay next to her and slid his hand over her stomach, letting it come to rest comfortably cupping her breast.

Lena was flat on her back, trying to get her breathing back to a normal rhythm.

“Oh my god,” she finally managed to gasp.

“It was good?” he asked.

“Yes!” she smacked his chest when she said it. “I don’t… I mean…”

He smiled as she tried to find the words.

Turning her head, she met his gaze. “I never knew you were so nasty.”

“I wasn’t mean,” he defended, hurt that she was accusing him.

“No, like kinky.”

He hated this part of speaking English. Why did so many words have so many different meanings that they already had words for?

“It’s kinky that I like the way you smell and taste?”

“I’ve never — I mean no one has ever…”

“It was my first time with you,” he said, nuzzling his nose into her neck. “I wanted to savor it.”

“Speaking of, I think it’s your turn,” she said coyly, pressing a hand to his shoulder. She shoved, and he flopped onto his back without protest.

She climbed over him, straddling his torso.

Finally feeling the weight of her on top of him was heaven. She was tethering him down to earth.

Her hot wetness against his skin made him twitch. He couldn't wait to bury himself inside her. Just imagining how tight and wet she'd feel around him made him moan.

“I haven't even touched you yet,” she smirked.

“I want you so bad.” The words slipped out in German. He started to translate, but she cut him off.

“I got the idea,” she said seductively as she leaned down to kiss him. She could taste herself on his lips and tongue as she did her best to work him up with her mouth alone.

The way he moaned sent a bolt of desire through her. Unable to stop herself, she rutted her hips against the hard wall of his stomach.

He choked out a curse, head tipping back into the pillows.

Taking advantage, she connected her mouth to his throat, feeling his Adams apple move under her lips as he swallowed hard.

“Lena.”

She moved to the other side of his neck.

His hands slipped to her hips, desperate to touch her.

As she slid down his body, her core passed over his, causing gentle pressure on his cock through the confining material of his boxers. His hips thrust up, desperate for more.

Bracing on his chest, Lena pushed herself up and ground her hips down on his.

Lashes fluttering, his eyes rolled back, and he gripped her hips with more ferocity.

She’d never had this kind of power over a man before. It made her heady with the want to tease him until he begged.

“Lena,” he groaned, almost as if in pain.

“Hmm?”

“I’m —” he gasped as she reached around, unclasped her bra, and took it off. She threw it across the room.

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he warned as she rocked against him.

“Is that so bad?” she asked, her voice thrown into mock innocence.

“I — fuck.” She was riling him up and he loved it. “Want to feel your mouth,” he finally managed to say.

“What if I want to hear you beg?”

His eyes shot open, pupils blown wide. Her tone was playful, as were her eyes, and mirth dripped from her smile. He knew if he said he didn’t like it, she’d stop right away. Except, with her on top of him, he found he was ready to do whatever she wanted.

“Lena.”

“Hmm?”

“Fuck, Lena. Please.” If she wanted him to beg, he’d beg.

“Please what?” she asked innocently, lowering her mouth over his nipple. He twitched against her as her tongue circled the small peak before flicking over the top of it.

His breath practically huffed out of his lungs.

“I want your mouth,” he groaned. “Please.”

“You do have very good manners,” she complimented, pushing herself up again.

They were going to go out the window if she didn't do something soon. “Please.”

If he didn’t know her sliding further down his body likely meant he would feel her mouth soon, he would have whined at the loss of stimulation.

Once she found herself over his legs, Lena leaned down to kiss that trail of dark hair that wound its way down the center of his abs and dipped into the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Can I take these off?” she asked as her fingers tucked under the elastic.

“Please,” bracing on his heels, he thrust his hips up so she could remove them, breathing a sigh of relief when his cock sprung free of the confining material.

“How do you like it?” she asked, hands caressing up his thighs.

He gulped. “I —”

“Or do you just want me to start, and you can tell me if you don’t like something?”

He nodded vigorously. The thing he wanted most was for her to just put her mouth on him. He’d dreamed of it so many times, and now, here she was, leaning over him.

The guttural groan that tore from his chest as Lena wrapped her lips around the head of his cock surprised them both. Her eyes shot up to look at his face, making sure he wasn’t in pain. His eyes were glued to her, wide with adoration and lust. The sight of her with her lips around him — he could die a happy man.

“You feel so good,” he groaned.

She loved that when he got worked up, his accent thickened.

One of her hands was braced on his thigh, while the other swept up to cradle his balls, stroking the sensitive skin with her thumb.

The only thing Nico could do was chant her name. Every time he tried to say something else, she did something new, hollowing her cheeks, or sensuously licking the tip, or moving her mouth to the underside of his cock so her open lips traced the vein there, the tip of her tongue whispering between them.

When her lips wrapped around him again, he was gone. “Gonna –-” he only managed to get that one word out before he was exploding into her hot, heavenly mouth.

She squeaked in surprise but relished sucking his release off and feeling it slide down her throat.

She lay beside him, watching Nico gasping in breaths, contented to have brought out this side of him.

“Holy shit,” he said.

“It was good?” she asked, repeating his earlier question and trying not to giggle.

Turning his head, he glanced at her, one eyebrow raised.

Before either of them could respond, her stomach grumbled loudly.

Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to cover it, “Sorry, I’ve usually eaten by this time.”

“You don't need to apologize,” he said, laughing.

“Why aren’t you all grumbly?” she asked.

“I…ate a protein bar while you were getting changed,” he admitted.

“You – what? And you didn't even think to share?” she demanded, playfully shoving away from him. “Some boyfriend you are.”

He smiled at being called her boyfriend, even through the insult.

“Sharing your food is like boyfriend 101.”

“I did order breakfast,” he offered.

“When?”

“Last night. It should be here in,” he glanced at the clock on his nightstand, “fifteen minutes. I kind of forgot how early you wake up.”

“Nico Hischier,” she said, voice full of teasing admonition as she crawled over him, “did you plan to seduce me this morning?”

He grinned, and she laughed as he pulled her down. She bounced on his chest. “Maybe I did. Aren't you glad I at least planned ahead?”

Pulling back to look into his face, her smile was soft and full of love. “Yes,” she said, leaning down to kiss him. “Yes, I am.”

While waiting for breakfast to arrive, they made out, slowly and passionately, hands tracing each others bodies with a reverent tenderness Lena had always dreamed of.

He was starting to stiffen up against her thigh again. It seemed impossible he could be nearly ready to go so soon after coming. He really did have the body of a God.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he pulled away reluctantly.

“That’s breakfast,” he said.

“Guess we should go get it,” she said, though she didn’t make any moves to get off of him.

“I’ll go,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to her pouty, over-kissed mouth, “you stay here.”

She watched as he threw on a new pair of boxers, some joggers, and a t-shirt before strolling out of the apartment.

“Have you seen my underwear?” she asked when he came back through the door, a bag from her favorite bagel shop in one hand, and two coffees in a carrier in the other.

“Hu?” he asked, slipping the coffees onto the table.

“My underwear,” she said. “I couldn’t find them in your room.”

“Weird,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on the hot flush of his cheeks.

“Do you have them?” she asked. When all he responded with was a non-committal grunt, she surmised, “they’re in your pocket, aren’t they?”

He couldn’t keep the little smile off of his face.

She rolled her eyes and took the iced coffee. “It’s a good thing I love you.”

His smile grew brighter, and he handed her her sandwich.

“No one’s ever made me feel like you do, Nico.”

He’d just been telling her he felt like he won the lottery, and she wanted to assure him she felt the same.

“Like no ones made you come?” he asked, licking ketchup off his thumb.

“No. Well, I mean, yes. You’re better because you listen —”

A smug smile took over his face.

“I mean that you accept me. Like all of me. That hadn’t really happened in my life before you.”

His brows shot up.

“I don’t think my family really knew what to do with me,” she said, picking up the other half of her ham and egg sandwich.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re all sporty, you know, and I’m…not. I’ve always been this creative free spirit, and I think my parents were at a bit of a loss when I was so bad at skating and said I wanted to take drawing lessons instead.”

“They love your art, though.” Nico had met her parents, and both of them seemed extremely proud of her.

“They’re better now, but when I was in primary school, and even up to the point that you came in, it always felt a bit like they resented that I had these talents.”

“Resented?” he asked.

“Yeah, like they wished I was more like the rest of the family.”

His brows drew together.

“And don’t get me started on the boys on the team.”

“Everyone really liked you. I think every guy on the team had a crush on you.” All the more reason to feel contented he had her now.

“Listen, you don’t get it.”

“Don’t I?”

“No. You were always good at sport and popular, right?”

He made a non-commital noise. Popularity in North America was very different from how he grew up. There was much more comparison than he ever experienced.

“I was always the artsy girl in a place that worships sports.”

“But you came to sports?”

“Yeah,” one of her shoulders shrugged up, “I came to support my friends, but they hardly ever came to things to support me. I remember Robbie told me once, ‘I don’t have enough culture for that,’ when I invited him to an art show I had some pieces in.”

Robbie had been their goalie, who had brought Lena into the friend group. He and Jessica were now married and had several children.

Nico’s heart broke a little.

“And then you came in and not only did you not treat me like the only thing I was good for was being looked at, you knew some things about art, and you actually talked to me about it.”

In fact, She still vividly remembered her first encounter with Nico.

She’d been sitting on the refreshments counter at the rink, drawing in her ever-present sketchbook while Jessica puttered around the tiny kitchen. He’d walked up to her, asked if he could see, and said, “that’s very good,” when she showed him.

She’d blushed and thanked him, and he asked where she learned to draw.

Jessica had interjected then, bragging about Lena’s painting skills, and telling him he should come see them at the school the next time he was there.

He’d then given Lena his trademark dimpled smile and said he would.

She was used to this. Boys said this all the time, but then would never actually show.

Lo and behold, three days later, she was shocked to find Nico outside the art classroom after school, studying one of her paintings Mr. Jacobsen had hung in the hallway.

“Hey Nico.”

He startled a little, “hi, Lena. You did this, right?”

She nodded.

“It’s very good. I like the shape,” he said, then frowned, shaking his head slightly, “not the shape. The,” he gestured with his hands as if dividing the three sections of the painting, the sky, forrest and field. “What’s the word for this?” he asked, repeating the gesture.

“The composition?” she guessed.

“Yes, the composition,” he said, relieved that she understood what he was trying to say. “I like that the sky is bigger. It feels like that here.”

“Thank you.” It was exactly what she’d been aiming for.

“You’re very talented,” he said, turning to look at her. He met her eyes and smiled.

“Thank you,” she said again, wishing she had some other way to respond to his compliments. She didn’t have much experience with the nice, cute boy in school talking to her about art and pulling out words like composition and knowing how to use them properly in a sentence.

It had started their friendship. It was amazing how that simple interaction of him following through made her feel. Not only seen in so many ways, but also that it kicked the budding crush she had on him into hyperdrive. She’d never met another man like him.

Pink splotches rose high on his cheeks, and he gave her a chagrined smile.

“What?” she asked, laughing.

“I didn’t know much about art,” he said. “I went home and looked it up so I could talk to you about it.”

His confession made her heart burst, “really?”

He nodded, “you were passionate about it, and I wanted to know you, so I had to learn so we could talk.”

“Nico, I can’t believe you did that for me.”

He blushed and smiled some more.

“How are you even real?” she asked, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair.

It called up memories of not that long ago when she had her fingers tangled in his hair for a different reason. “Real?” he asked.

“You’re like a dream,” she said, hand slipping to cup his jaw. “Kind and thoughtful and dedicated, and handsome to boot. It’s like you’re too perfect to be real.”

He laughed, loud and open. He couldn’t think of anyone further from perfect than himself.

After their meal and brushing their teeth, Nico spent some more time between her legs, eating a second and third breakfast, using his beautiful hands to aid in bringing her to a crest twice more.

“Fuck,” she breathed as he lay next to her, “how did you get so good at that?”

He laughed, wiping his face with his hand. “I don’t know. I listen.”

“You listen?” she repeated.

“Yeah, you make this little ‘uh,’” he imitated a high pitched grunt, “noise when you feel good, so I do whatever I just did again when you make it.”

Rolling onto her side, she looked at him, “I do?”

He nodded.

“When did you notice that?”

“Last week. You told me what to do and then made that noise when I did it. So I tired it again,” he said with a shrug and a secret little smile.

She knew Nico was used to noticing things other people didn’t. It’s what made him a good hockey player. He noticed and noted things about players and teams and used them to put together his best game possible. He even noticed things about her - like the fact that she liked pistachio flavored things, and liked to paint on the right side of the living room and that she liked a margarita. She couldn't remember ever telling him these things, but he had pistachio creamer in his fridge, moved the living room furniture around, and brought her a margarita whenever they went out together.

“You’re something else, Nico Hischier,” Lena said, bringing her hand up to the side of his face.

He smiled, nuzzling his cheek into her palm.

“What do you want?” he asked. He wanted her, but if she wanted more foreplay, he would give it to her. He just wanted her to be happy.

Scooting closer, she slung a leg over his hip. She held eye contact as she said, “I want you to make love to me, Nico.”

His hand slid onto her thigh, up to her hip, and over the curve of her waist in a reverent exploration. “How do you want it? Like, what position?” he asked.

“Missionary,” she said, her fingers tracing over his collar bone and onto his chest. “I want to see you.”

It struck him as a tender thing for her to request, and he was glad for it. He wanted to see her, too. They could try more intense positions later. For now, that was how it needed to be.

“Where are you going?” she asked when he rolled away from her.

He glanced back at her with a cheeky smile. “Eager,” he teased with a lingering scan of her body as he reached into the drawer of his bedside table.

She snorted.

“I’m getting a condom,” he said, holding up the foil wrapped package once he’d dug one out.

“Oh,” she said. “I have an IUD if you don’t want to.”

His next breath came shallow.

“I mean, unless you’re not clean. I haven’t had unprotected sex since I was last tested.”

He didn’t like to think of her having any sex at all unless it was with him. “We get tested at the start of every season,” he said. “All clear. I haven’t had sex since then.”

“Then,” she reached forward to pluck the condom from his fingers, relieved she hadn’t been the only celibate one for the last three months, “I don’t think we need to use one.” She tossed it behind him. It landed on the nightstand, skidded across the surface, and fell somewhere they could find later. “I don’t want anything between us.”

Her eyes were dark with desire, and he felt it through his whole body.

“You’re incredible,” he said reverently, bringing his body next to hers again.

She reached between them to stroke his erection and his eyes fluttered closed. Feeling her hand reminded him how quickly he’d come in her mouth. “I’m scared I won’t last,” he admitted.

He’d dreamed of being inside her for so long, gotten himself off to the thought of it so many times, he might just explode the second it became real. Reality shortening his fuze to next to nothing.

“Nico.”

He met her gaze.

“I don’t care how long you last.” Lena was struck once again with how handsome he was. Those big, brown doe eyes and pouty mouth. How was this her life?

He scoffed.

“I’m serious,” she said, giving him a look that told the truth. “I just want to feel you.”

He looked almost as if he might cry.

“And I know if you do come too fast, you’ll make it up to me. You’ve already given me four orgasms and it’s not even ten in the morning.”

He chuckled, glad for her reassurance and humor.

“Is this helping?” she asked, continuing at the same, gentle pace, “or no?”

He nodded. It probably was helping - getting him used to the feel of her.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

He shook his head, finally getting up the strength to pull her hand away. They’d waited long enough.

Lena rolled onto her back, and he followed, bracing himself on his forearms above her.

As he reached down go guide himself, Nico pulled in a deep breath. Slow. They were going to take this slow, and everything was going to be fine.

Even nestling his tip against her entrance sent sparks pinging through his system.

He tore his eyes from where their bodies would soon be joined and looked into her face, “this is okay?”

She nodded.

“You’ll tell me if —”

She leaned up to cut him off with a kiss. “Make love to me, Nico,” she whispered as she settled back against the pillows.

And so, he eased forward.

Her hips tipped to his, a pleasured sigh escaping her lips. There was a stretch, but he’d prepped her so well, there was no pain.

She met his gaze as his hips settled against hers. He was looking at her with all this love and adoration. No one had ever looked at her like that but him. Reaching up, she swept some of his hair out of his eyes, only to have it fall right back.

A laugh chuffed out of him as if to agree that was a losing battle.

“You can move,” she said after a few more moments of his trembling stillness.

He swallowed and shifted his hips back.

She took in a sharp breath. “Oh.”

“Feels good?” his voice was tight with restraint.

The fullness of him was good, but feeling him move inside her was better. “Yes,” she moaned.

A thousand little dreams came true.

The sight of her beneath him was a replay of so many fantasies, his resolve was unraveling too fast. He knew she meant what she said about him coming too soon, but he wanted to be good for her, and, dammit, he wanted to feel her fall apart around him. He slammed his eyes closed.

“How does it,” she gasped as he withdrew to the tip, “feel?”

“You feel so good, Lena,” he panted. “You’re so tight.”

“Or you’re so thick,” she countered, back arching as he thrust back onto her, a little harder.

That’s when she heard it, that little grunt. It was something her body seemed to do naturally. She would never have noticed it if Nico hadn’t pointed it out. And he’d picked up on it almost immediately, filing the information in his beautiful brain to help bring her pleasure. What had she ever done to deserve this man?

Nico risked looking at her. She was beautiful every time he saw her, but this took the cake.

“What do you need? What will make you come?”

Of course Nico was mature enough to communicate and know he needed her help to get her there.

“Keep going,” she panted as her hand slipped between them in search of her clit. Nico felt so good. So incredible inside her, but she'd never been able to get off by penetration alone.

His jaw dropped as her walls fluttered around him. “Fuck can't do that,” he groaned.

“Need it,” she whispered, pressing purposeful circles over the sensitive bundle.

He moaned her name and buried his face in her neck. She felt so much better than he'd even fantasized.

She made a noise that made his hair stand on end. God, how was he going to get through this without embarrassing himself when she sounded like that? Like more than all of his dreams combined?

“Nico,” she moaned his name the same way, and he felt his resolve crumble a little bit more.

Pulling from every self discipline lesson he'd learned in hockey and beyond, he stilled, reminding his body his mind was more powerful.

Once he had some semblance of control back, his competitive determination snapped into place, and his desire to please her took the drivers seat. He needed to see her come beneath him.

“Can you…” she trailed off before demanding, “Nico, harder.”

He braced lifted himself higher and drove his cock into her with more ferocity, grunting with each show of strength.

“Oh my god. Nico, yes!” Feeling his strong hips drive into her over and over again made her back bow.

Sweat broke out along his hairline just as much from exertion as the restraint he was clinging to.

“I’m almost there.”

“Let go,” he growled.

Her mouth dropped open. She never expected to hear Nico order her around at all, but hearing the gruff command in SwissGerman sent her body into a frenzy. She had no idea what he said, but it was the hottest fucking thing she'd ever heard.

Her hips rose to meet his, and he could still feel her fingers between them, working for her own high.

He watched pleasure roll across her face and continued on. “Lena,” his resolve was slipping, and he heard desperation creep into his voice. “Come.”

That one word order — she knew it had to be — tipped her over the precipice, and her body seized.

Feeling her walls clench around him pulled a shout from his gut. Fuck, she felt so good. As he continued, the rapid pulsating began.

“Lena,” it came out a desperate moan.

This was…she was… “Lena.”

Careening over the edge with a shouted, “Fuck!” he flooded her in a haze of bliss.

Afterglow turned his limbs to jelly, and he collapsed atop her.

Walking to his locker the next morning, Nico tried his best to be as inconspicuous as possible. If he didn’t draw attention to the hickeys on his neck and chest, no one would notice. He’d just change with his chest facing the stall.

“Ooh!” Dawson called out as soon as he’d stripped off his shirt, “Cap finally got laid!”

He went rigid. The memory of Lena’s nails raking over his back as she unraveled beneath him for the fourth - or maybe it was the fifth - time flew into his mind.

He'd nearly howled like a wolf when she'd done it. The pain, together with the pleasure of her walls constricting around him – not to mention the very reality that he was the one making her come so hard – made him see stars.

“Whose the lucky lady?” Jack asked, sauntering over, “was it that blonde from the bar? I bet it was the blonde.”

He felt himself snort. “No,” he said, voice louder than he expected. Of course it wasn’t the blonde from the bar. Some girl he’d just met could never compare.

“Who was it then? We all know it wasn’t Lena.”

Nico couldn’t help the smug little smile that spread over his lips.

Jonas picked up on it right away. “it was Lena wasn’t it?” he asked, eyes going wide.

Feeling himself blush, Nico tried and failed to keep the grin off his face.

“It was!” Jack exclaimed. “You finally got the balls!” he clapped a hand on Nicos shoulder and spun him around, taking in the marks on his chest and neck. “Looks like she enjoyed herself at least!” he said with a laugh.

“Aw man,” Dawson moaned, sinking onto the bench at his stall. “Why are all the hot girls taken?”

“You didn’t seriously think you had a chance with Lena, did you?” Curtis chirped, one sarcastic eyebrow raised.

Dawson shrugged, feeling his face and neck get hot.

“Didn’t you see the way she and Nico have been eye fucking each other the past four months? Neeks was practically on his knees at Halloween.”

“I was not,” Nico defended.

“No,” Jack broke in, “you were. You were practically drooling, to be honest.”

Coming home after practice, the apartment smelled heavenly. Like spicy sausage and something creamy. Lena was cooking.

He followed his nose to the kitchen and found her at the stove in a pair of running shorts and a gray Devils t-shirt, stirring whatever she had in the sauce pot.

As he watched, she brought the spoon to her mouth, tipped her head to the side as she tasted, then reached for the salt. She shook some in before stirring and repeating the process.

She must have deemed it done because she set the spoon down and flipped off the burner. She grabbed some hot pads and lifted the pot off the stove.

A yelp escaped her mouth when Lena turned to find Nico in the doorway, looking at her. She nearly dropped the whole pot of sauce.

“Oh my God! Why do you do that?” she demanded, managing to set the pot back on the stove.

An amused smile lifted his mouth, dimpling one cheek more than the other. “Do what?”

“You keep just showing up in the kitchen without any warning!” she said, flapping a hot pad in his direction, “and it scares the hell out of me when I turn around.”

“I just get too distracted to say hello,” he admitted.

“Distracted?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re…” he paused, gesturing to her as he tried to find the right words. “You’re so pretty it steals my thoughts sometimes.”

She blushed.

“That time I came in when you had that pink underwear on, I thought I might faint.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious, Lena,” he said, finally stepping in so he could put his hands on her waist. The fact that he could touch her like this now was still banging pots and pans around his brain each time he did it.

“You thought you might faint?” she repeated. “that seems a little dramatic, Nico.”

He shrugged, “it was like this stolen moment.”

“What?”

He paused, working his thumbs under the shirt hanging loose on her petite frame. He loved that she’d started wearing his shirts.

“I loved you for so long, and it was like this little, secret gift.” His thumbs drew circles on her skin as he thought through the words, “it was like I was seeing you like I might if we were together, and I just couldn’t…I couldn’t bear to say anything because it would break it.”

“I thought you were shocked at my thighs,” she blurted, effectively running the moment. What he was saying was so incredibly sweet, but him bringing up that moment brought her straight back.

He laughed quietly. “I was shocked at your thighs. I don’t think I’d ever seen you in your underwear.”

“I mean…I thought you didn’t like them,” she said quietly, hoping he didn’t think she was fishing for compliments. The way he’d tenderly kissed her there the night before told her she’d been wrong.

His gaze grew soft, “you’re so beautiful, Lena. How could you think that?”

One of her shoulders shrugged up. “I’ve never really liked them.”

His hand slid down over her hip to tenderly grip the flesh, “I love them,” he said, leaning in closer to nuzzle his nose against hers. “I especially like what’s between them.”

“You’re insatiable,” she teased, even as her heart fluttered. It was a strange thing to have her insecurities turned inside out so easily.

“Can you blame me?” he asked, lips whispering over hers, “when I’ve wanted you for so long, and now,” he slid his other hand to her other thigh, and tightened his fingers, nudging her to jump. She did, and he moved to cup her rear to hold her up as her ankles hooked around his waist. “Now I have you?” The truth in his statement, along with the feel of her body pressed against his, made him a little breathless.

The steps they’d taken to get here were clear, and she followed them again and again in her mind, but in moments like this, it still felt like a dream. Instead of answering, she kissed him.

They’d kissed a lot now, but it still felt so new that each time she initiated, each time she caught his mouth, and especially each time her tongue brushed against his, his knees went a little weak.

Stumbling just slightly, he backed up and ran into the fridge. The bottles in the door clinked and rattled in protest.

The sauce and baked potatoes were long forgotten as he carried her to the bedroom.

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meazalykov · 3 months ago

Text

getting what she wants

lena oberdorf x oc x USWNT!reader

part one of five

summary: lena knows she gets what she wants

warnings: cheating, angst, 18+ (smut? not too detailed and mostly suggestive)

oc description here

you and your girlfriend had always been complicated—never simple, never easy.

it started back in 2021 when you and sloan played at psg. the chemistry on the field between you two was undeniable, but off the field, it was a different story.

the beginning wasn’t so bad, though. she caught feelings for you shortly after she went through a breakup, but you didn’t think much of it. you were happy that someone was interested in you, someone as gorgeous as sloan.

if you were to tell anyone about it now, you'd say it wasn’t the worst relationship, but it definitely wasn’t the best either.

sloan was magnetic, and in those early days, you were drawn to her like everyone else was drawn to her. the older woman was a fierce defender in paris, while you were a threatening midfielder that scared the defenders on the opposite team.

the woman would pull you in, wrap you up in her intensity, and you’d get lost in the way she’d look at you, the way she’d run up to you if you took a hit on the pitch– it was like you were her whole world. and for a while, it felt like you were.

savannah was always there, in the background, but you didn’t mind. you played with both of them on the united states national team, and savannah never seemed like a threat.

she was just part of the past with sloan—something you didn't think twice about. you had bigger things to worry about, like football, your career. you weren’t the type to get jealous over old exs that your girlfriend had.

things shifted in 2022 when you left for bayern munich, after you spent three seasons with PSG.

the move was huge for you. it was a chance to grow, to focus on your game in another league, and push yourself to new heights.

sloan went back to the states, joining portland thorns. her contract didn’t expire with PSG but she didn’t want to stay if you weren’t there.

the long distance was rough, but you both promised to make it work. you'd have late-night calls, texting between training sessions, and sending each other pictures of your day, trying to stay connected despite the time zone difference.

but then, overtime, you started noticing things.

small, subtle shifts. the first time sloan told you that her and savannah texting again. at first, you were alarmed until sloan told you that savannah, who played for louisville, was going to go up against the thorns in the NWSL that week.

you told yourself it was nothing. they’d known each other forever; of course, they'd stay in touch. your mind brushed it off, telling yourself that your trust in sloan was stronger than whatever history she had with savannah.

but it didn’t take long for sophia, your friend on the national team who played at the same club as sloan, to notice.

during one of your national team camps, the ones against china in florida, she pulled you aside, a concerned look on her face.

“have you talked to sloan recently?” she asked, her tone light but her eyes searching.

“yeah, of course,” you replied, a little confused by her question.

“why?”

sloan was still recovering from an ACL injury, so her club and national team agreed to have the 26 year old play for only portland games for now. she wasn’t called up for the national team so you couldn’t see her this time in the states.

sophia sighs in hesitation,

“i don’t want to stir anything up, but sloan was showing me some tiktok on her phone unaware that um...well,, i saw some messages. between her and savannah. they seemed kinda... i don’t know, close?”

you felt your stomach drop, but you forced a laugh.

“it’s nothing. they’re just friends.” you convinced yourself.

“just be careful, okay?” sophia didn’t look convinced.

you nodded, but that seed of doubt had already been planted.

later that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. the way sloan’s messages had become more distant, the way she’d brush off your questions with a quick “i’m just busy babe” or “practice has been rough.” you tried to push it down, telling yourself it was all in your head.

until one day, you couldn’t anymore.

a few weeks later, you were scrolling through your phone after a long training session in germany when you saw it. videos.

they were everywhere—sloan and savannah, out at some club in portland, laughing, dancing, and way too close for comfort. the headlines were brutal, and your stomach twisted into knots as you scrolled through the comments, people speculating about what was going on between them.

you couldn’t breathe.

immediately, you dialed sloan’s number, your fingers shaking as you waited for her to pick up.

you had to run into your living room, since lea and georgia were staying over your house and were sleeping in the guest room beside your bedroom. there was no way that you would wake them up, even in this condition.

“hey, babe,” she answered casually, as if nothing had happened.

“what the FUCK, sloan?” your voice cracked, the anger and hurt pouring out all at once.

there was a pause on the other end, just long enough to make you feel even worse.

“it’s not what it looks like,” she finally said, her voice too calm, too rehearsed.

“it sure as hell doesn’t look good,” you shot back.

“you’re out partying with savannah? after you told me there was nothing going on?”

sloan sighed.

“i told you, it’s nothing. we just went out for drinks with our teams. it’s not a big deal.”

“not a big deal?” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“sloan, everyone’s talking about it. you’re all over the news. do you even realize how this makes me look? do you know how this makes YOU look?”

you hated how much you still cared about her and her image. of course everyone on the internet was dragging sloan’s name through the filth for your defense.

“you’re overreacting. savannah’s just a friend who happens to be my ex too. you need to stop letting other people get into your head.” sloan said, annoyed.

but you couldn’t calm down. how could you? not when the entire world had just seen your girlfriend getting close with her ex like it was nothing.

your heart ached, torn between the love you still had for sloan and the anger bubbling inside you.

“i can’t believe you,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes.

“i trusted you!”

“and i haven’t done anything to break that trust,” sloan shot back, her voice harder now.

“look, if you don’t trust me, that’s on you. i can’t control how people perceive things.”

you hung up the phone without another word, your chest heavy, the pain sinking deeper with every passing second.

as you collapsed onto the ground, you felt a pair of arms catch you. the vanilla scent of the person’s chest told you that it was lea schuller hugging you as you cried.

weeks afterwards– you threw yourself into training, trying to ignore the hurt, the betrayal. but it lingered, gnawing at you, distracting you during every practice, every match. no matter how hard you tried to focus, your mind kept wandering back to sloan, to those videos, to the lies.

you couldn’t go to the states to confront her, and that only made it worse. you were stuck, miles away, helpless.

many months later, it's July 1st 2024. despite everything—the distance, the arguments, the emotional drain—you and sloan were still together.

maybe it was the comfort of it all, the familiarity. you’d been with her for so long that the thought of letting go felt impossible. breaking up seemed like more effort than just sticking it out.

even if things weren’t great, they weren’t unbearable. or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

sloan wasn’t seen with her ex again. in fact, she never mentioned savannah again, and you didn’t ask. but the tension hung between you like a fog, thick and ever-present. every time you checked social media, every time her name came up in conversation, your stomach would knot up, the unease always lingering. but nothing ever changed.

after each conversation with sloan, you felt empty. like a weight had been lifted, but at the same time, it left a hollow space inside you. the next few days passed in a blur.

you threw yourself into training, desperate to block out the pain, but even football wasn’t the escape it usually was.

that’s when lena oberdorf started showing up in your life. she’d recently moved to bayern from wolfsburg, and though you’d played against her plenty of times, you never really knew her well. she was fierce on the pitch, strong and confident.

in fact, you had a perception of her since you fell victim to her side tackles on many, many occasions. but you started to notice lena’s behavior around you after training, she was different—softer, a little shy even.

it started with small things. lena would linger after practice, making conversation, asking how you were doing.

at first, you chalked it up to her being friendly, trying to settle into her new team and make friends outside of the ones she knew from the national team.

a week later, before the national break that will lead into the olympics– training was going well. your focus was locked in on the drills as the team worked through possession exercises.

everything felt sharp, crisp. your legs were taking you towards the goal until georgia came in hard, a tackle from the side catching your leg at an awkward angle. you hit the ground hard, a sharp pain shooting through your ankle.

“y/n!” you heard georgia’s voice above the ringing in your ears as she stands up from the ground.

“shit shit shit!!! i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—”

before she could finish, lena was already by your side, practically sprinting over from the other side of the field.

she dropped to her knees next to you, her hands immediately on your shoulders.

“are you okay? where does it hurt?” lena’s voice was frantic, her eyes wide with concern as she looked you over, clearly scanning for any sign of serious injury.

“i’m fine, lena,” you muttered, trying to sit up.

“just... give me a sec.” the pain wasn’t as bad as you first thought. it was more of a shock than anything.

lena wasn’t having it.

“you don’t look fine,” she insisted, gently pushing you back down as you tried to get up.

“you should stay down for a bit. what if it’s worse than you think?”

georgia hovered nearby, an apologetic look on her face. “i didn’t mean to go in that hard. really, i’m sorry, y/n.”

“what the hell, georgia? you didn’t have to go in on her like that—it’s training, not a match!” lena shot her a glare, her protective streak kicking in immediately.

“i know, i know,” georgia said, holding up her hands in surrender.

“i was just going for the ball, i didn’t mean to hurt her.”

you could see the tension building between the two of them,

lena getting more worked up than necessary. it wasn’t the first time lena had gotten overprotective over you, but this was definitely one of the more intense moments. you placed a hand on her arm, trying to calm her down.

“lena, seriously, i’m fine. it’s not a big deal.”

but she wasn’t having it. “no, it is a big deal. she should’ve been more careful.”

georgia rolled her eyes but kept her distance, clearly not wanting to escalate things. the rest of the team had started to gather around, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of concern and amusement.

“she’s tough, lena,” georgia said with a small smile, trying to diffuse the situation.

“she’s not made of glass.” you wanted to giggle after georgia said that, but you didn’t want to piss off a protective lena.

“maybe, but that doesn’t mean you can just throw her to the ground,” lena snapped back, still kneeling beside you, her hands hovering protectively around you like she was scared you might fall apart any second.

"you're one to talk about putting people on the ground!" georgia says before laughing at lena's smirk, a smirk she tried to hide knowing that georgia is right.

the team, noticing the bickering, started exchanging looks.

a few stifled laughs could be heard, and you knew exactly what was coming.

“uh, lena?” tuva called out from behind you, a teasing grin on her face. “y/n is okay.”

tuva pulls lena, gently, away from you as you stand up. your ankle is sore but not painful. you were okay.

“you do realize y/n’s taken, right?” lea whispered to lena, but you still heard it.

you groaned inwardly, knowing exactly where this was headed.

“yeah, lena, i don’t think her girlfriend would be too happy about all this... care you’re giving y/n,” giulia added, her voice dripping with amusement.

lena flushed, her cheeks turning a shade of red you hadn’t seen before. she quickly stood up, brushing off her shorts, though she still hovered close to you, as if she wasn’t quite ready to leave your side.

“i’m just making sure she’s okay,” lena muttered, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

you couldn’t help but laugh a little despite the situation. “lena, seriously, i’m fine. you don’t need to go full paramedic on me. besides guys, you don’t have to mention her while we are here”

“oh!” sydney says, laughing.

the teasing continued, the team now fully enjoying the spectacle.

“she’s going full-on protective mode, isn’t she?” pernille chuckled, giving lena a nudge.

“you’ve got it bad, oberdorf.” madga joins.

“it’s just concern,” lena muttered, clearly embarrassed now, trying to avoid the teasing looks being thrown her way.

you finally managed to walk, rolling your ankle a bit to check for any real damage. again, it was sore, but nothing too serious. you were fine—like you’d been saying all along.

“see? i told you. i’m okay.”

“well, that’s a relief,” lena mumbled, though the look of worry in her eyes hadn’t completely disappeared. she stood a little closer than necessary, and the team noticed.

they noticed how you let her stay close to you too.

“yeah, ‘relief,’” georgia echoed, shaking her head in amusement.

“seriously though, y/n’s fine. no need to be so protective, lena—- i’m sorry y/n.”

the teasing continued as the team dispersed, but lena stayed near you, still looking a little flustered.

“i just didn’t want her to be hurt,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

you gave her a soft smile, appreciating her concern, even if it was a little overboard.

“i know. but it’s okay. i’m tougher than i look.”

lena saw lea’s smile turn into a quick frown at that, she makes a mental note to question her best friend about that later.

after that morning in training, you began to notice the way lena looked at you. there was something more in her eyes, something you hadn’t picked up on before.

the next day, after a tough session, you were sitting on the sidelines, catching your breath, when lena plopped down beside you.

“you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle, her eyes scanning your face.

you nodded, forcing a smile. “yeah, just tired.”

but lena wasn’t convinced. “i’ve noticed you’ve been... off lately. is it sloan?”

lena asked lea why you seemed off. lea told her the backstory about your relationship with the portland thorn’s defender. she did her own research afterwards, realizing how bad it really was.

the mention of sloan’s name made your stomach twist. you didn’t want to talk about her, not now, not ever.

“it’s complicated.”

lena hesitated for a moment, then quietly said,

“you don’t deserve what she is putting you through, y/n. you deserve someone who’s going to put you first.”

you glanced at her, surprised by the intensity in her words. there was something in the way she said it, the quiet conviction, that made you pause.

“it’s not that simple,” you mumbled, looking down at the ground.

“we’ve been together for so long, and— i don’t know.”

“maybe that’s the problem,” lena said, her voice soft but firm.

“maybe you’ve been holding on to something that’s already gone.”

you didn’t respond. you couldn’t, because deep down, you knew she was right. sloan wasn’t fighting for you anymore, and maybe she never had.

lena stayed by your side for the rest of the day, offering silent support.

and as the days went on, her presence became something you looked forward to—her quiet smiles, her easy laughter, the way she’d stick around just to make sure you were okay.

it wasn’t long before you started noticing the little things she did for you. bringing you coffee before training, giving you rides home, offering to help with your recovery sessions after each training.

it was subtle, but there was a certain care in everything she did, something you hadn’t felt from sloan in a long time.

one afternoon, the last training before the national break for the olympics, lena comes up to you after the showers.

“hey, you want to grab dinner?” she asked casually, but there was something in her tone that made your heart race a little faster.

“uh, yeah, sure,” you replied, caught off guard.

you ended up at a quiet restaurant, tucked away from the usual chaos.

over dinner, lena was different. more open, more confident. she asked about your life, your interests outside of football, and for the first time in a while, you found yourself genuinely enjoying someone’s company.

halfway through the meal, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes locking onto yours.

“y/n, can i be honest with you?”

your heart skipped a beat. “of course.”

“I've been attracted to you for a long time,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“since before you moved to bayern. but i didn’t want to say anything because... well, i knew you were with sloan.”

you blinked, taken aback by her confession. “you... have?”

she nodded, her gaze unwavering. “yeah. but i’ve been watching how things have been going with you two, and... i just want you to know that you deserve someone who’s going to treat you better. someone who has respect for you.”

you stared at her, not sure how to respond. it wasn’t that you hadn’t noticed lena’s growing presence in your life, but hearing her say it out loud, admitting her feelings so openly, was something you hadn’t expected.

“lena, i...” you started, but the words got stuck in your throat. you didn’t know what to say. part of you was still reeling from sloan, from the hurt and confusion that came with it.

but another part of you—a part you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge—felt something for lena too. something more.

she must’ve sensed your hesitation because she quickly added, “i’m not trying to pressure you or anything. i just wanted you to know how i feel. whatever happens, i’m here for you liebe. no matter what.”

her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a glimmer of hope. maybe lena was right. maybe you did deserve more.

as the night went on, you found yourself relaxing in her presence, the tension from your relationship with sloan slowly easing away.

it was different with lena—easier, lighter. and when she walked you back to your apartment later that night, there was a moment where she hesitated, standing on the doorstep, her eyes flicking to your lips.

you could’ve kissed her. part of you wanted to.

“thanks for tonight,” you whispered, your voice soft.

lena smiled, her expression gentle. “anytime, y/n. i’m always here for you.”

something in the air had shifted after she said that, leaving only the quiet between you two.

lena was standing just a little too close, her gaze a little too intense, and you could feel the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the space between you.

her eyes flickered down to your lips again, and for a moment, she seemed to freeze. your heart pounded in your chest as the silence stretched on, each second amplifying the tension between you both.

you couldn’t tear your gaze away from her, drawn in by the way she was looking at you, the unspoken desire clear in her eyes.

the way she cares for you, the way you’ve been burying your attraction for her. It was too much. you wanted her.

your mind was racing—everything with sloan, the mess of your relationship, how complicated it all was.

but in that moment, none of it mattered. not with lena looking at you like that.

you made the first move, your body acting on instinct before your brain could catch up.

leaning in slowly, tentatively, you closed the gap between you, your lips barely brushing hers at first.

you paused, just for a second, giving her the chance to pull away if she wanted to. but she didn’t.

the second lena kissed you back, everything else melted away. her lips met yours with a sudden intensity, all the built-up tension finally spilling over.

her hands were on you in an instant, one sliding to the back of your neck, the other finding your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened.

it wasn’t gentle—not by any means. there was an urgency in the way she kissed you, and the way you kissed her. she’d been holding back for far too long, and now that the floodgates were open, there was no going back.

you responded in kind, your hands gripping the front of her hoodie, pulling her even closer as you kissed her harder, your body pressing against hers.

lena’s hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, her fingers warm against your skin as they traced the curve of your waist, making you shiver.

the feeling of her touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, your heart racing even faster. your lips moved against hers in sync, the kiss growing more heated by the second, both of you caught up in the intensity of the moment.

you broke apart for a brief second, both of you gasping for air, but the space between you barely lasted a heartbeat before lena’s lips were on yours again, even more desperate than before. her body pressed into yours, pushing you gently against the door, and you welcomed the pressure, your hands finding their way into her hair, tugging just enough to earn a quiet groan from her.

“lena,” you breathed against her lips, not even sure what you were trying to say, if anything at all. her name came out like a plea, like you were drowning in her and needed more, but didn’t know how to ask for it.

“y/n,” she murmured back, her voice low and husky, her breath hot against your skin as she kissed along your jaw, trailing down to your neck.

the sensation sent a shiver down your spine, your knees going weak as you clung to her, desperate to stay grounded in the overwhelming rush of feelings.

her hand gripped your waist tighter, holding you against her as her lips moved across your skin, finding every sensitive spot that made you gasp, your fingers tightening in her hair as you struggled to keep up with the intensity of it all.

you weren’t thinking about sloan anymore, or the complications that would come from this. all that mattered was the way lena was making you feel—the way her lips felt on yours, the way her touch set your skin on fire.

and when lena pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes dark and filled with something raw, something intense, you knew there was no going back.

you reached your left hand behind your body, keeping your right on lena’s waist, as you unlocked the door.

pulling the taller woman inside, you didn’t think twice before taking her into your bedroom.

the sex was amazing. its been nearly 18 months since you last tine you’ve did anything, thanks to your long distance relationship.

the girl back in portland didn’t come across your mind once. just the moment between you, the girl who's sleeping in your arms, and the fact that you’ll have a flight back to the states for national duty in the morning.

part two here

#lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf x reader #lena you're missed #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #bayern frauen #bayern munich #uswnt

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

Text

In Bloom 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, allusions to trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After wasting much of your youth in a toxic situation, things are starting to look up. That's until you meet a certain flower seller.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Note: Tomorrow is beach day for me.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The city streets seem to slant around you, looming outside the car windows, blurring at the edges. Your displacement adds to the effect, making your dizzy, leaving your hands raw as you wring them compulsively. You shrink back into your seat, shying away from the world that seems so scary to you.

Aunt Bev is completely unbothered. She sings along to her favourite 80s bop as she keeps speed with the rest of traffic. She's always in a sunny mood but that day, she beams even brighter. When you asked why, she was almost stunned by the question; 'well, sweetheart, it's your birthday!'

You forgot. Or didn't care. You never really celebrate. Your last birthday you can barely discern from all the other grim days. You try not to think of that life you had before Aunt Bev showed up to drag you into the light. You suppose it's probably been just under a year since.

As if sensing your grey thought, she reaches to turn the volume down. She resumes her firm grip on the wheel and peeks over quickly. She smiles as she stops at the changing light.

"You get a free scoop. You got your ID?" She says.

You nod. That's one of the things that's new to you. Before you never even had a library card. Before, it was like you never even existed. As far as the world was concerned, you didn't.

You look down at the purse in your lap. Your cousin Lena gave it to you. She said she never used it and it suited you better. There was a lot she handed over, though without any real concern. Her and your other cousin, Mason, have so much, they hardly know the difference.

You stare at the embroidered petals on the black velvet. Lena's wrong. It's too nice for you.

You tear your hands apart and lift the flap. You slide out the small wallet within. Another inherited piece. You slip out the ID card and stare at the photo. It doesn't really look like you but you've never really been able to recognise yourself. Your features always struck you as unfamiliar.

You remember when you went to fill out the paperwork. Standing in front of that lens, staring into its black eye, and the sudden flash. You tuck the card away and shove the wallet back in the depths of the purse.

"Lena's making you a cake," Bev says, "she always loves an excuse to make a mess of my kitchen."

You try to laugh, it's more a crackle. That's the thing about Aunt Bev, everything is so careless to her, so easy. It all feels so strange to you. You don't fit but no one else seems to notice.

"Mason should be there but heavens knows he's always late. That's not my doing, by the way, your uncle's always been horrible about time," she scoffs.

You hum to acknowledge you're listening. The mention of your cousin and uncle make you uneasy. It isn't that they're bad. No, they're so nice, like Lena and Bev, but they're men. You try not to hold that against them but you've never been very comfortable around them. Not that you spent much time around male counterparts.

"Twenty-five," she preens, "exciting."

You clear your dry throat, "yep."

You tuck your chin down and fidget with the strap of the purse. Twenty-five. Halfway through your first decade of adulthood and you still feel like a child. It's nothing to celebrate but Aunt Bev sees everyday as a reason.

She puts on her signal and waits in the line of cars. You squint through her side and see the bustling of vehicles and people in a large lot. All this for ice cream. You told her you aren't particularly hungry even but she insisted.

She turns and rolls into the lot, finding a spot amid the tight lines. She sighs and pulls the visor down to check her dyed waves in the mirror. She's always so put together. She tried to help you but you don't like the feel of mascara and you had an allergic reaction to the lip gloss. She didn't try again.

"Alright, ice cream!" She snaps the visor up, "do you know which flavour you want?"

You unbuckle your seat belt and shrug, "I don't know what they have."

"Fair," she tilts her head as she opens her door, "I'm feeling a good old vanilla cone."

You get out and shut the door. You hook the purse on your shoulder and meet her by the hood. You walk in step with her, peering around at the other people streaming towards the other side of the lot. There’s a large archway leading to a large plot of booths and stands. It’s a market of some sort, the kind you’ve only seen on television.

“I thought we were getting ice cream,” you say as you grip your purse.

“They have ice cream. I have another surprise. For your birthday,” she insists, “I wanted to buy you a gift.”

“Oh? I don’t need one.”

“I want to,” she says, “me and Lena used to come here all the time. You’ll like it.”

You don’t argue. You have no right to. She’s doing you a favour. Another one.

It’s crowded but everyone seems happy. You’re not used to all the noise or clamour. A woman pushes a stroller ahead of you as her husband chases a lively toddler past her. You press your chapped lips together and hold in your unease.

You’re not the best in these sort of situations. Too many people, too much going on. Just going down to City Hall to get your ID was a lot. The hospital too. Those stiff, cramped plastic chairs and people filling even the space between them.

You keep your shoulders curled in as you walk with Bev. You end up behind her, following her lead, stopping where she stops, looking at whatever she looks at. She points out a crystal sunflower necklace and you smile and nod. When you see the price, you frown.

“Maybe something else. I don’t wear jewelry,” you say. You don’t wear it because you never had it.

“It would be so pretty,” she remarks.

“No, really, it’s... nice, but not for me.”

You sidle on. There’s a table of soaps so pungent they make your head cloudy, and candles that look like whipped desserts. You cross to another booth and Bev buys some local honey and apple butter. She likes the honey in her tea in the evening. She always makes you a cup too.

She shows you the wildflower honey giddily and points you onward. You stick close, following her direction as it keeps your head from spinning. You go to crocheter’s stand with stuffed animals meant for the children shouting and running around more than you. That whale might be cute but you’re not a child anymore, are you?

You carry on. Bev shows you several other things. A little compact mirror with mother of pearl on the case and a hand-painted wooden chest you could put on your dresser. The dresser she bought in the room she gave you in the house she pays for.

“You really don’t need to buy my anything. The ice creams good enough,” you say as your doubt bubbles over but it’s too loud for her to hear you. And she’s too distracted.

Aunt Bev stands on her toes, though she’s already a tall figure, and waves at someone. She grabs your wrist and you wince as she pulls you through the swaths of people. You want to tear away as her grip makes you itch. You don’t like being touched. You’re not used to it.

She pulls you to another row of stalls and stops before a medley of plants. There's a little chalkboard sign in the corner that reads ‘Cole’s Corner’. Pots line the top of the table, cacti and spider plants and succulents. Their green and lovely and lush.

Bev lets go and you stare down at them. They’re familiar. They’re pretty. You could smile if your ears weren’t burning from the bustling people around.

You’ve always known soil, always known the smell of pollen and the tough roots of unwanted weeds. When you weren’t trapped in your room, you were stranded in the garden, searching for bright petals or nursing wilting stems. Out in the dirt, you didn’t have to worry about anything.

Often Aunt Bev found you in the plot she allotted you among her rose bushes and tulips. The space you made your own with the gnome you painted yourself. That was one of her little crafts she liked to do. She always had an idea for something or the other; waxed-linen to use as reusable bowl covers or tie-dye tee shirts.

You stare down at a pot of aloe vera. The pot is clay; the base is brown and the top is painted white. You admire the jutting rigid leaves as the chaos around you settles into the background. You lean in closer at the burst of colour behind it, a bunch of pleasant pink begonias.

“Cole,” your aunt chirps, “busy today.”

“Sure is,” the man behind the table answers and your eyes flick up as you nearly jump.

You hadn’t seen him. You were too distracted by the fauna. You don’t know how you didn’t. He’s tall and his blue eyes twinkle as they meet yours. You quickly shy away as the sight of his soft hay brown hair lingers in your mind.

“This your sister?” He asks.

“Oh, Cole, don’t be silly. You can flatter me all you like. You’re still a horrible salesman.”

“Usually works,” he chuckles, “daughter?”

“You’ve met Lena,” she chides then introduces you by name, “this is my niece. Hon, this is Cole. He grows these all himself.”

“Ah, the niece,” he snaps his fingers. “I remember.”

As he turns away you continue to peruse. Your cheeks are burning. You’re suddenly not as content to browse the plants. Not as you feel the sting of that man’s gaze nipping at you. It’s just the way he’d looked at you. Maybe just that he’d even saw you.

Suddenly, a pot wrapped in burlap is set down in front of you. You examine the yellow petals and peek over at Aunt Bev. She grins and her gaze trails between you and the man. You gulp and turn back to once more consider the flowers.

“Daylily,” you murmur.

He leans in and lets out a scratchy noise, “that’s right.”

You suck in your lower lip. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Your lashes flick up then down as you can’t figure what to do with yourself.

“You like flowers? Your aunt says you spend all your time in the garden.”

You shrug, then nod, and once more dart a look over at Aunt Bev. She said all that? To him? Why?

“How about that one?” She comes closer as she reaches for her purse, “it’s her birthday. I’d like her to get something nice for her.”

“Can’t go wrong with day lily. They keep bloom for a while but each blossom only lasts about a day,” he turns the pot slightly as he speaks, “symbolic of devotion and forgetting worries. They brighten the place right up.”

“So?” Aunt Bev nudges you with her elbow.

You dip your chin, “um, sure, okay. Thank you, Aunt Bev.”

“Flowers are always a good gift. These ones won’t need much in the winter either. They’ll come right back,” he explains, “is that all?”

“Yep, I think you’ve bled me dry,” Bev kids as she hands over her money, “I only have so much room left in the backyard.”

“Ah, don’t got that problem on the farm. Sometimes, I don’t know what to do with all the land,” he counts out her change from a metal box.

“Must be nice. I swear, living in the city can be so... suffocating,” Bev mopes as she tucks away the coins. “Go on, hon, you wanna carry your flowers?”

You mutter your acquiescence and step forward to reach for the pot. Before you can, that man, Cole, slides it out of your grasp. “Wait, one minute.” He turns and digs around in a crate hidden beneath the perpendicular table, “it’s your birthday, isn’t it?” He pulls out a ribbon, the same colour as the daylily, “just put a proper bow on.”

He ties it up in a drooping uneven bow. You peek up at his face as he gives it a helpless smile and shrugs, “not perfect but... happy birthday.”

He pushes the pot towards you and you cautiously take it. His large hand brushes yours and you quickly bring the flowers against your stomach, recoiling a step back from the table. His fingers fall onto the table and he taps them.

“Oh, wait,” he turns once more and digs around, this time in a bag on the top of the table, “Marvita brough these over from her booth.” He takes out a small box and lifts the lid to reveal an array of macarons in a variety of hues, “I can’t eat them all.” he shoves the box at you, “please.”

You don’t move but Bev eagerly accepts one; a pink one. “Go on,” she urges, “live a little, birthday girl.”

You scrunch your mouth up and slant it this way, then that. You take a cookie; a green one. As you hug the plant with one arm and retract the other, you remember your manners. A tingle runs through the back of your hand, a memory of those lessons, as the ‘thank you’ tumbles off your tongue.

You look up and once more your eyes meet. You blanch and swiftly turn away.

“No problem,” he says brightly, “hey, Bev,” he calls as she goes to shuffle away, “next week?”

“Eh, I don’t know, my husband’s been on me about the spending,” she laughs, “we’ll see.”

“Oh yeah, see you then,” he snorts, “you too, I hope.”

“Uh, bye,” you wave with the cookie and hurry past your aunt. You know he’s talking to you but you can’t face him. He’s just being nice and you won’t be back.

“I love those, they’re so pretty,” Aunt Bev reaches over to touch the petals, “such a nice man, isn’t he?”

#cole turner #dark cole turner #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #series #in bloom #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #ghosted

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once-upon-a-thigh · 1 year ago

Text

HER

Summary: You’ve been at college for 3 years. Now it’s time to return home to old friends, and old(er) lovers. PERFECT LITTLE SECRET P3 18+

Pairings: Fem! Reader x Milf! Wanda Maximoff, Fem! Reader x Carol Danvers (brief), Reader x Yelena x Kate (platonic).

Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, fingering, clothed sex, masturbation, large age gap, swearing, lords name in vain?? Couldn’t find my laptop charger so shitty phone format.

Lips crashed against each other as your bodies desperately ground against the other, aimlessly searching around for any bit of friction among the bedsheets in your dorm that will settle the pulsing of your core.

The hot frenzy was interrupted by the blaring of your ringtone. Ignoring it, you flipped the blonde over with all your strength, grinding down on the crotch of her jeans. The shrill ring didn’t seize however, so pushing yourself up and blowing the hair out of your face with an exasperated sigh, you picked up the device and put it to your ear, shushing the blonde that grabbed at your ass with a frustrated grunt.

“Bout time you picked up.” Drawled the Russian.

Your annoyance almost disappeared at the sound of Yelena’s voice, your friend from high school. You didn’t get to see her often, seeing as you had attended different universities for the last 3 years.

“Well I’m a little preoccupied.” You quirked, breathe still heavy.

“You better not be hooking up with Danvers again.”

You glanced down at the athlete you’re straddling, relieved that she can’t hear the disapproving voice down the line. “So what if I was?” You said through gritted teeth.

“Oh come on Y/N/N!” She exasperated, “she ruined your life!”

The guilt returns as it always did. Did she ruin your life? You still haven’t made up your mind. For a long time you thought so, but with every ignored text and voicemail message to Wanda, you started to convince yourself that maybe the older woman wasn’t the love of your life, that just maybe, Carol did the right thing by telling your parents that day. Still, you can’t help but hold some resentment towards her, hence why despite the fuck-buddy situation you have going on with her, you still refuse to have a full on relationship with the blonde no matter how much she asks.

Yelena took your silence as a sign to change the subject. “Anyway, I’ve called to invite you to a wedding.”

“It’s not yours and Kate’s is it?” You chuckled.

“Ew, as if.” She scoffed. “It’s Nat’s, she’s finally popped the question to Maria.”

“I don’t know Lena, I’m kinda disappointed that your sister’s off the market.” You teased, shuffling when you felt Carol tense under you.

“Fuck off.” You can practically hear her eyes rolling through the phone. “It’s this weekend.”

“This weekend? Christ, they hardly have given me any time to think about it.”

“What can I say? Lesbians.”

You shrugged at her short explanation. To be fair, it’s completely Natasha’s style to plan such an important event with such little time to prepare.

“Listen,” she continues, “I know you don’t like coming back home after everything that happened with your folks, but I miss you, or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled anyway. “I’ll be there.”

If you knew that the invite Yelena presented you with would lead you to having a breakdown in your parents’ drive-way… well actually, you’re not all that surprised. Sure, the long drive to your home town had sent plenty of stressful thoughts and scenarios through your head, but the sight of the red Buick you knew all too well parked in the drive across the road confirmed them all. She was still here. She exists, she’s alive, and she still lives here.

You’re not sure how long you sat in your car just watching, waiting for any sign of movement behind the drawn curtains of the house. Her house.

You weren’t sure really how to feel. Wanda Maximoff dropped you the minute your parents threatened her that fateful night.

She didn’t answer the door no matter how much you knocked, and she didn’t answer the phone no matter how much you called. Still, she never blocked you, and your sent messages still remain on “read.” It sickens you how much hope that word fuelled you with, reminding you of the days you just sat there waiting for her to send a response, a response devoting herself to you and confessing her love all over again.

Stop it. You force your gaze to leave the car as you finally make the move to enter your childhood home. You’re over her.. Right?

The sound of silverware scraping dinner plates was the only sound breaking the thick tension of the dining room. Your parents are happy that you’re back, sure, and you were happy to see them. Still, your relationship with them hasn’t been the same since the exposure of your endeavours with Wanda. You fought hard with them for a while before you eventually up and moved for college, leaving a strained relationship with them behind.

Your time away from home (and a heck load of time in therapy) gave you enough time to process everything that happened, and even gave you the strength to forgive your parents. At the end of the day they were only doing what they believed was right in order to protect you, and you couldn’t help but love them for it now that you’ve matured.

Buzz, buzz

You glanced at your phone. Carol.

Buzz, buzz

“Those your college friends honey?” Your father spoke through a mouthful of potato.

“It’s just Carol” you muttered, turning it on do not disturb for an hour.

“Oh Carol!” Your mother tuned in. “I’m glad you’re still seeing her sweetheart, she’s a lovely girl.”

“Yeah.” You stated through gritted teeth.

“Why aren’t you bringing her to the wedding?”

You wiped your mouth with a napkin, stalling an answer to your mum’s nosiness. “I don’t have a plus one, I’m just going with Lena and Kate.”

“Oh,” you can see her cringe physically cringe, “those two.”

The doorbell rang. Speak of the devils.

“Gotta go!” The chair scraped as you got up from the table hastily, silverware clashing with plates as your knees bumped the table on your way up.

“Y/n!” You ignored the scolding as you sprinted to the door, flinging it open and throwing yourself at the two awaiting bodies.

The three of you clung on to each other, giggling when you caught your elbow on Kate’s chin. And just like that things felt normal, the three of you were just hanging out after school, and you hadn’t met Wanda yet.

“Dude! I just saw your ex milf peering through the window. She’s still hot.” Kate laughed, and silence followed.

“Kate, what the fuck?” Yelena looked at her dumbly, luckily not catching your eyes flickering to the quiet house across the street.

“Shit, sorry Y/n/n.” The tall girl pursed her lips.

“It’s alright.” You let out a half real/half fake chuckle, reaching up to throw an arm over her shoulder and steering her inside, the blonde closely following.

The girls ignored your parents, as they have been doing for the past three years, and followed you straight up to your room. For the next hour you laze around on your bed, gossiping, catching up and discussing Nat’s big day tomorrow.

“And she didn’t invite me to her hen night? Can you believe that?” Yelena is mid-rant about her sister (again) when your phone comes off do not disturb.

Buzz buzz

“I mean I’m so fun! Right? You agree with that right? I’m so fun?”

“You’re so fun!” Kate chimes in, sipping on the bottle of rum you had been passing around.

Buzz buzz

“Jesus, who the fuck is that y/n? I’m trying to be pathetic in peace here.” Yelena paused her rant, picking up your phone before you could grab it yourself.

“Oh, my, god.”

“Yelena-“ she pulls the phone away from you, standing up before you can grab it back and begins reading out the messages whilst pacing back and forth.

“I miss tasting you!” She reads, walking around the room as you follow her, making attempts at getting your phone back.

“Woah!” Kate exclaims, looking at you with a dropped jaw. Her mouth hangs open more little by little as Yelena continues to read the messages coming through.

“Why didn’t you invite me to the wedding, I mean I was right there”

“Y/n, pick up the phone.”

“I miss you.”

“You’re with her again aren’t you?”

“I love you, you know I do.”

“-For fucks sake Y/n, she’s mental!” Yelena is exclaims, concern painting her brow as she looks through the messages.

“Who’s this?” Kate leans over the bed, peering over Yelena’s shoulder to get a look at the phone. “Ugh, ‘Captain’? I thought you were done with her.”

“I’m trying to be!” You exasperate, star-fish collapsing on your bed. “It’s just hard, despite everything I know she’s at least going to be there when I need her, you know?”

“Yeah, cause she left you no other choice.” Yelena scoffed. “She’s getting weird babe, it’s time you drop her. For real.”

“Alright.” You roll your eyes. She was getting pretty needy to be fair.

Buzz

“Oh here we go- oh, fuck.” Sitting up, you see the pair looking at each other in shock.

“What is it?” You take your phone back, but not before Yelena gets a final swipe in. Looking at the screen, you see nothing but needy messages from Carol.

“Nothing,” Lena shrugs, shooting Kate a suspicious look. “Just Danvers being a freak.”

Soon the girls left, leaving you alone in your room. It had gone dark outside now, the moon illuminating the parts of your childhood bedroom that the dim bedside lamp could not reach. Your parents had long gone to bed, and there you stood, standing in front of the window and finally letting yourself take in reality. The curtains of her window were closed, but you could see a smidge of light seeping out of the slight gap in the curtain. It was too far away to see in the gap, but the light was enough. You knew she was there, and just the thought left you absolutely soaked.

It seemed like just yesterday your breath was fogging up that very window, chest pressed against the glass, heaving with every pump of her hips. Suddenly you were hot, so very hot. It had been a while since you thought of her like this- actually, that’s a lie. You thought of her like this a lot. What you hadn’t done in a while, is touched yourself whilst thinking of her like this. You usually had distractions, you had Carol. But this time you were alone, and so with the curtains wide open, you began to strip. You took your clothes off slow and sultry, like you used to knowing she was looking. You closed your eyes and pretended, you pretended it was three years ago and the woman you pine for is watching from the window across the street and you show her what’s hers.

Goosebumps followed every brush of your hands as you shred the clothes from your body, breath getting heavier, pussy getting wetter. Before you knew it you were throwing yourself on to your bed, reaching over for the vibrator that had been long forgotten in your bedside table. You let out a sigh of relief as it came to life with a click of the button, the batteries still work. You teased it over the hard peaks of your nipples as you lowered it to your aching core, gasping when it was finally pressed against your pulsing clit.

Fantasies and memories alike flood through your mind as you rubbed the vibrator against your aching bud with one hand, two fingers from the other entering your hole. There was always one common factor with these thoughts, Wanda. You fucked yourself vigorously as you thought of her, of what she might do to you if she was here. Fuck, you missed her. You came with her name slipping past your lips, and with that you knew you weren’t over her, you never could be.

Feeling relief, and some slight self-judgement over what you had just done, you switched the light off before turning over to sleep. Had you been facing the window, maybe you would have seen the slight twitch of her curtains, and her light switching off soon after yours.

Pulling your pencil knee length dress down as you stood, you clapped as the beautiful newlyweds began to make their way down the aisle “I can’t believe they pulled it off,” you muttered to the sobbing brunette beside you.

“T-that was so beautiful.” Kate managed to comment through sobs.

“Oh for god’s sake Bishop keep it together” Yelena elbowed her on her other side.

Nat and Maria’s ceremony was beautiful. Despite it being planned so last minute, it was well put together. They managed to host the wedding at their friend’s hotel. It was quiet and small, only close family and friends attended the ceremony. Now, more people were slowly migrating through the doors as the reception went full swing.

You were just getting in to the ABBA song playing over the speakers, politely sipping on your martini when you were aggressively turned around by your friends that had been acting weird all evening.

“Hey! Heyyy Y/n” Kate grinned weirdly at you.

“Uh, hi Kate?” You looked between the two of them, getting weirded out by how they were smiling awkwardly and constantly glancing over your shoulder. You turned to see what they were looking at, but was immediately pulled back by Yelena’s hand on your face.

“Y/n we have to tell you something!” Kate suddenly screeched.

“No we don’t!” Lena glared at her.

“Oh come on Yel! We can’t avoid her all night.” She groaned, loosening her purple tie.

The blonde ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. “Fine! Y/n, Kate has to tell you something.”

“Oh fuck off Yelena!” Rebutted the brunette.

“Fine! I have to tell you something..”

You began to get nervous. “Uh, okay?”

“Last night, when I was looking at Carol’s messages.. another one came through..”

“Okay? And?” You tried to catch her gaze, but her eyes kept darting between you and whatever it was that was happening behind you.

“It was Wanda.” She winced.

…

“What?”

“She wanted to let you know she was coming to the wedding..”

“What?”

“I had no idea she knew Nat or Maria I swear!”

“Why didn’t I see the message?” You questionably muttered, your brain feeling completely frazzled.

“I deleted it.” She physically winced.

“What? Why?” You yelled over the music.

“Because I knew you’d freak out!”

“And THIS is better? Oh my god! I’ve got to go! I’ve gotta get out, KATE HELP ME GET OUT!” You shook the brunette by her shoulders.

“It’s too late Y/n!” She pointed behind you.

Finally you turned around, and your heart skipped a beat when your eyes met the green of hers.

Her name dusted your lips on instinct, a name you found yourself missing saying, missing moaning. She looked different, not bad different, just different. Her hair was longer and brighter, combating the dullness in her orbs. Her jaw and cheekbones are more strongly defined than the supple skin you used to kiss. She was slimmer, she almost looked taller. But she was still Wanda. Your Wanda.

Once you came to you finally realised the two of you had just been stood staring at each other from across the room, both taking the other in. You knew you looked different too, and you found yourself hoping she still saw the girl she once loved in you.

“I should, um..” You didn’t even finish whatever your excuse was going to be before your feet were carrying you towards her. She stayed rooted in place, but didn’t break her stare once.

The walk towards her felt like it was forever, though it was only maybe ten seconds. Ten seconds that you spend trying to come up with something to say. Though when you stop just a foot in front of her, you’ve got nothing.

You stood with your mouth open like a fish out of water before you managed to slip out a shy “Hi-”

“-You are so beautiful.” She said at the same time as your pathetic greeting with a sweet delicacy.

“Oh..” Was all you could get your stupid mouth to say.

She looked at you with the same gentleness she usually did, with soft eyes and a tender smile. “How is it possible for you to be even more beautiful than you were then?”

“Well I guess I grew up.” Finally your brain remembered to form sentences.

“I guess you did.” She glanced at the floor, breaking the stare off you didn’t even realise you were having. “Y/n,” your breath hitched hearing her say your name, “will you walk with me?”

You looked at the hand she was offering to you, unsure one what your next move should be.

“I completely understand if you want to go back to your friends and pretend I was never here,” she said strongly, “but I would really like the opportunity to explain myself to you.”

You’re not sure if this explanation was going to make or break you, but god you know you wanted to hear it. So for the first time in 3 years, you took her hand, and followed.

She led you out the doors and through the busy end of the garden until you came across a still, lonely pond. Forgetting about your nice dress that you did not intend to get dirty tonight, you plonked yourself onto the grass, freezing up when she sat next to you.

You broke the silence. “What are you even doing here?”

Wanda thought for a few seconds before she answered. “When what happened, happened.. I guess your friend told Natasha about everything. A week later Maria shows up at my door, and I’m thinking your parents have actually done it, you know? Told everyone? But she sat me down and she just.. let me talk about you, and she supported me. She helped me through everything and if it wasn’t for her I.. I don’t know. She became my friend when I really needed one. Anyway of course she invited me to her wedding and she was kind enough to warn me you were going to be here. I figured I should probably reach out..”

“Yeah I didn’t exactly get that message.” You laughed, “Yelena panicked and deleted it before I could see it.”

She chuckled, “those friends of yours, I always liked them.”

“I thought they annoyed you.” I teased.

“They were slightly annoying,” she laughed, nodding her head. “But they care for you, and they’ve been good friends to you.”

Bitterness swelled when you recalled one of the main reasons as to why you needed their care in the first place. “Yeah well, god knows I needed it.”

She swallowed, slowly nodding. “I’m sorry.”

You scoffed.

“I am Y/n, you have no idea how much.” She faced you, grabbing your hands in hers. You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Any measly contact from her sends you in to a secret euphoria. “I swear you have no idea how much I wanted to reach out to you, how many times I picked up the phone without pressing accept, how many times I stood on the other side of the door without opening it-“

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” You ripped your hands away from here, but she immediately grabbed them back.

“No! I’m just-“ her lip quivered, you could see her eyes getting watery just as yours were. “I’m just trying to tell you that what I said that day, after your parents caught us, I meant it. I have never wanted anyone like I have wanted you, which is why it was so hard to let you go.”

“So why did you?” You asked calmly.

“Because as real as we were your parents were kind of right too. I’m old, Y/n, and you were, are, so young. I have two kids, an ex-husband, I spend my Friday nights baking and my Saturdays at book club! What business did someone like me have being with someone like you?” She cried.

“Because you loved me! You love me.” Salty tears rolled over the corners of your lips, swollen from how much you had been biting them without even realising.

“I did,” she nodded “I do.”

Your wet doe eyes dropped to her red lips as she drew nearer, tilting back at her eyes again which had gone darker in just a second. They were harrowing and loving, as she wondered what the hell she had been doing those years without you.

“Three years without you was everything and nothing all at once.” She spat out passionately before quickly pressing her lips against yours. You immediately kissed back, the thought of pushing her way not even gracing your mind for a millisecond. Subconsciously, you had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“I never stopped thinking about you.” She whispered between desperate kisses. Oh, how you missed this.

“Me neither.” You replied, grasping at her suit jacket with selfish hands, falling back on to the grass and pulling her half on top of you. You quivered as her ringed fingers explored your matured curves, slowly moving on from soft grazes to rough grips of the flesh of your thighs and ass.

“I fucking love you detka, you’re never leaving me again. You belong with me, understand?” She spoke in to your neck after she kissed her way down your jaw. You whimpered at the pet name, this being the first time you’ve heard it in so long. You could feel your lace getting uncomfortably wet as you soaked in her possessive talk.

She pinched your thigh when you didn’t respond. “Understand?”

“Yes mommy I understand!” You squealed.

She moaned against your mouth at the term, she missed hearing you whimper it, moan it, scream it.

It has been quite some time since you said it too, and just like that you were snapped back in to the space you once were, forever and always hers.

“Touch me, please mommy, touch my pussy.” You begged through a whisper, looping your fingers in the belt loops by her hips, pulling her in to you until you could feel the gyrating of her hips against your thigh.

She groaned, dropping her head to leave open, wet kisses on your exposed cleavage as she got lost in the feeling of her heat grinding against the muscle of your thigh. She slipped a warm hand up the skirt of your dress, not wasting a second before she was pushing your panties aside and gathering your wetness among her fingers.

She withdrew her hand and traced her slick fingers over your bottom lip. “Can anyone other than mommy make you this wet?”

You shook your head rigorously, tongue reaching out to taste yourself. You didn’t get the chance as she was already sticking them in her own mouth, moaning at the taste. “Mm I’ve missed your taste baby, but I can take my time with that later. For now, you need your cute little cunt fucked don’t you?”

You barely had time to respond before you were throwing your head back, moaning out her name as she plunged two long fingers in to you, curling them in a come hither motion with every thrust. You could only imagine the grass stains your dress would be covered in after this, your back rubbed and wriggled against the green blades with every thrust of her wrist. She put all her body in to fucking you, getting herself off on your thigh at the same time.

You grabbed and scratched at every part of the older woman that you could reach as your body grew rigid as it reached its release.

Wanda chuckled darkly against your sweat-shined skin. “Already detka? It’s a good thing we’ve got all night.”

You came hard on her fingers, harder than you have in the last three years. She was right, no one else could possibly make you feel like this. She ground her hips in to you harder, moaning lowly as the friction against her clit brought her to her climax not long after your own. She collapsed on your still body, breathing heavily as she rolled on to her back, pulling you in to her side.

You still couldn’t believe this was real, who knew this is where you’d end up upon returning home. Part of you wished you had come back sooner. A quiet whisper slipped past your lips, but she heard it. “I missed you.”

Pulling you closer, she pressed her puffy lips to your forehead in a firm kiss. “I missed you too darling.” She brushed her nose against yours, gazing in to your eyes. “I was serious you know, I’m not letting you go.”

“I know,” you smiled, “I’m not going anywhere.”

—————————————————

I finally did it! Aaaah! Thank you to whoever stuck around long enough to read the third instalment of Perfect Little Secret, I hope you liked it.

I proof read this in between reps at the gym so you can only imagine how that was, sorry if there’s any mistakes.

Meg 😘

#onceuponathigh #marvel #marvel women #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff #marvel smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader

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