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wandasaura · 11 months ago

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LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS

summary — as the summer approaches, so does a shift in your relationship with wanda

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, sensory overload, anxiety, mentions of child abuse (very brief and nondescript), dom/sub dynamics, patience testing, bratty!reader, punishment, teasing, mild humiliation, orgasm denial, spanking, praise, aftercare, entrance of the mommy kink, men/minors dni

authors note — the moment we’ve all been waiting for… or at least one of them ;), we finally got some wanda action, and a couple little domestic scenes because they’re the cutest wives

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The supermarket was beyond crowded for it being a Wednesday afternoon in early May. You supposed the air conditioned aisles were being used as an escape from the scalding temperatures of approaching summer that threatened to melt the inventory of every ice cream truck in the neighborhood, but to say you were overstimulated was putting it lightly.

You trailed after Wanda and Natasha with a frown on your face, making your disinterest known to both of the lawyers who were in desperate need of more produce and salad kits. You’d never understand why Natasha favored the plastic bags of lettuce over the perfectly green heads that Wanda grew in the back garden, but she’d thrown at least six prepackaged variations into the cart when you stopped at the stand. You were trailing down the cereal aisle now, and your attitude was getting on both of their nerves.

Wanda had been flat out ignoring your temper tantrum since the moment it started, but Natasha was not as keen to be dismissive as her wife. She’d been throwing out warnings since you’d first come through the automatic doors, but they had all fallen on deaf ears as you stayed persistent in your pout. Your arms were folded over your chest, your eyes slitted into daggers if anyone even attempted to look in your direction. You’d been near perfectly behaved for weeks, spare a few harsh comments thrown in Wanda’s direction, but they’d both been willing to overlook your harshness because aside from those, you’d been an angel. Whatever streak of good behavior you’d been running off of however, had seen its end, and both lawyers in front of you were shocked by the attitude you simmered in.

“If I have to ask you again to pick up your feet, I’m going to make you sit in the cart like a child.” Natasha’s voice was quiet, not willing to draw attention from the other shoppers in the aisle, but there was an unignorable warning in her tone. She’d asked you three times to stop dragging your feet across the floors, and each time you promptly dragged them harder. You were absolutely certain that smudges of black looped the grocery store floors and aided as a map to your current location, but you didn’t care. You’d been so good, so painfully good and pliant and willing to bend to even the slightest gust of wind, but not today. Not now. Not when it was too hot and too cold at the same time. Not when it was too loud and too crowded and you’d asked them both if you could just stay home. They hadn’t wanted that. They wanted to go together, told you that you were going together even after you protested, and you know it’s because they’d wanted to get you some of your favorite treats for the end of the semester coming up, but how could they blame you for being cranky when you’d warned them about not wanting to come along at all. You’d been here for what felt like hours, and if your phone wasn’t being held captive in Wanda’s pocket, you’re sure the digits on your lockscreen would support your accusation.

“Can we leave?!” You ignored Natasha’s warning, wiggled away from her when she got too close, and pressed yourself up against the shelves of cereal boxes. You wouldn’t fare well to the close contact she wanted to initiate, but she didn’t seem to get that, because the second you thought you had found peace in your little corner, she was right back in front of you with a glare only the worst criminals faced. She was not your loving and sweet dominant right now, you’d pushed her too far, and she didn’t take kindly to embarrassment. You’re pretty sure that the man three carts behind you had been gawking at your temperament since you came in, and while Wanda had sent him a glare, he still hadn’t gotten the hint that your little attitude didn’t concern him. Natasha grabbed at your wrists, pulling them away from your chest with a grip too strong to fight. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you wiggled immediately, but she wasn’t letting go. “Nat, let go.” You pleaded with her, desperately tried to get her to understand you needed space right now, but she was seething and subsequently blinded by your panic.

“Natalia.” Wanda called out for her wife, her careful eye watching your movements despite the seeming disinterest on her lips. Your eyes flickered over to Wanda, and while to Natasha it appeared that you were a deer in headlights anticipating a scolding, the Sokovian could see the wisps of actual panic in your stare. “Let go.”

Natasha listened, if only because a crowd had started to form toward the opposite end of the aisle and she wanted to move on before she became the cause of a traffic jam. Her hand left yours, and though it had been making your skin burn, you missed it instantly. Tears brimmed your eyes, but you refused to let her see that, and so instead of pleading that you leave only to be overlooked again, you just dropped your chin to your chest and followed along after them both with a drag in your step.

“This is your chance to tell me what’s wrong.” You practically jumped out of your skin when Wanda’s voice appeared closer than it had been all afternoon. If you had leaned any closer into her, your arm would have brushed her chest. You shuffled away from her, beyond the point of communication. You thought you’d made it pretty clear that you wanted to leave, anytime you acted out Natasha didn’t hesitate to drag you away, but she hadn’t this time. You knew that realistically it was because she needed supplies to make dinner, but after weeks of being good, you couldn’t deny that you had missed the feeling of her heavy hands on your skin in a way that was less than kind. You could ask for what you needed, but you would rather die a slow painful death then ask for what she called a ‘maintenance spanking’. “If you’re not going to communicate, then I don’t want the attitude. You are making a scene. Drop it, pick out some snacks, and try to be nice.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You huffed, making the rash decision to shove her body away from yours with both of your outstretched palms. Wanda’s lips set into a firm line, her eyebrows raised in surprise at the action. You’ve been rude, snarky even, but you’ve never raised your hands to her, even if it was only to create some space between your bodies. You shuffled on your feet, immediately regretting the decision to force space rather than ask for it. You’d been riding her last nerve for days, your sarcastic comments just the slightest bit meaner than usual, but she had been willing to overlook them because she knew you were stressed with finals and outside of those one-off comments you’d been helpful and obedient. There was no way she’d ignore this, and you wanted to cry thinking about how at the end of the night it wouldn’t be Natasha’s hands on your body that you wanted so desperately, but hers. “I– sorry.” You apologized weakly, not even sure what it was that you were apologizing for. Was it because the look in her eyes was undeniably scary, or was it because you pushed her? You knew that it was a mixture of both, but you needed that look to go away before you could even form a coherent thought.

“In the cart.” She demanded, not leaving you any room to argue. You violently shook your head, knowing that being confined to such a small space would only make the panic in your belly worse. There were too many noises and stimulus, too many conflicting temperatures, being confined between four metal bumpers would certainly set you off and you were only just barely keeping yourself together now. “If you want to act like a child you’ll get treated like one. Natasha has asked you four times to stop dragging your feet, and frankly, I can’t trust that you’ll keep your hands to yourself anymore. You either sit in the cart, or you and I will go out to the car and you won’t be getting any of the treats you want. Which one is it going to be?”

“I want Nat.” You pleaded with her, suddenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even know where the other redhead had wandered off to, or when she’d started moving. She had been right in front of you, but now you couldn’t spot her and the thought of losing her in the supermarket spiked worry in your chest. “Where’s Nat?” You didn’t care about how frantic you appeared, didn’t care that you were ignoring Wanda’s question and definitely making things worse for yourself. You hated getting separated, you hated breaking off into pairs even if the three of you had set a meet up location if this were to happen.

Wanda, though annoyed with your behavior, sighed softly and dropped the threatening glare she’d been pointing at you. “Nat went to get some grapes and strawberries. You finished them this morning, remember?” You could only nod, remembering that you had in fact finished their fruit after refusing to eat the eggs that Wanda made for breakfast. It was too hot outside for anything warm to eat. They weren’t giving you a choice in tagging along, and although you couldn’t control where they dragged you, well you could if you had called your safeword and asked for space, but that wasn’t really what you wanted. You still had control over what you ate even if the supermarket was non negotiable, and you knew that the cold fruit would sit better in your stomach when it inevitably came time to leave.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you what’s wrong, Y/N. If you refuse to answer, I will be the one you deal with when we get home. This behavior is unacceptable.” Wanda remained firm, but there was concern in her voice that made you wonder if you would avoid punishment if you came clean. Deciding that you’d rather face humiliation than her heavy hand on your ass, you relented.

“There’s too many people.” You whispered, shamefully dropping your eyes to the floor, counting the specs of black and gold in the tiles beneath your feet. The design was ugly when isolated, but somehow it worked for the aesthetic of the store when you focused on the full picture. “It’s too loud. And tomorrow's my last final and I’m not sure how it’s going to go, and I have to sleep at my dorm tonight and I haven’t done that since Natty was away. And I just need space right now but I don’t want to be alone.”

The Maximoff residence had practically become your residence since the night you showed up in tears. You’d spent all of your nights in the soft guest bed, and most of your mornings in the dining room eating a homemade breakfast for the last six weeks. It was embarrassing to admit that you had gotten used to being there with them, that now that you had it, you didn’t want to trade it in for your stiff dorm room with a roommate you hadn’t spoken a word to since the first week of classes, even if it would only be for a handful of hours to sleep. You hated sleeping alone, even if you had slept alone in their house almost every night, spare the occasions Natasha fucked you into that fuzzy headspace she adores and they had let you crash in bed with them. Sleeping in your dorm was different, and lonely. And yeah, you had survived three years of dorm living prior to meeting them, but things were different now. You are different now.

Wanda’s face melted into softness at your admission, and suddenly you felt silly for keeping it to yourself for so long, but you’d unasked for self-criticism had convinced you that you were being needy and unreasonable and they wouldn’t understand where your head was at even if you tried to articulate. After almost a year with Natasha, you should’ve known that wasn’t true, shouldn’t have even entertained that thought, but after showing both her and Wanda that you could be good for longer than just a couple hours, you’d felt like raising any problems no matter their origin would only aggravate them. You didn’t want to lose what you had, even if it meant being uncomfortable in a grocery store.

“It is pretty overstimulating in here, isn’t it?” Wanda coos, her green eyes understanding and sympathetic. It’s a violent switch from how she’d been talking to you, but you thrive beneath her gentle validation of your feelings and find yourself nodding along. “Natty and I try our best to accommodate you, but we don’t know everything that can be overwhelming for you. We need you to tell us, so these things don’t happen. Shoving me didn’t make it any less crowded, and ignoring Nat didn’t make it any less loud. I know you were trying your best, but how could we have handled that better?” You should hate the way she’s speaking to you; like a child made of glass, but somehow it makes you feel better. She doesn’t sound mad anymore, there's no unspoken threat of consequences or stripped privileges, she’s just trying to get on the same page as you, trying to get you to understand where your mistakes had been so you can fix them in the future. You hate that you want more of this, whatever it is.

“Telling you.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, trying to take away some of the blame that was becoming heavy guilt in your belly. “I didn’t think you’d listen.”

“Have we ever not listened to you?” Wanda quirks an eyebrow, and you feel properly schooled beneath the expression.

“I told you I didn’t want to come.” You tried to excuse yourself, but the lawyer was having none of your avoidance. You sighed, dropping your shoulders and focusing your attention on your cuticles, picking at the skin that had only recently begun to heal. “Nobody has ever taken me seriously before. My last girlfriend used to parade me around claiming exposure would ‘fix’ me. I didn’t think it would matter to you that I’m overstimulated.”

Wanda didn’t know much of anything about your past relationships. Whenever you talked about them, which was admittedly almost never, it was only ever Natasha who was around to witness realization crash over you like high tide. Your past romantic partners and the estranged relationship with your family had completely destroyed you, however these two successful lawyers that you found yourself entangled with were slowly putting the pieces of your broken heart back together, even if they didn’t realize just how much they were helping you.

“Do you want to leave?” Wanda didn’t dwell on your revelation, she didn’t pick it apart and hone in on all of the ways you knew that she could. She’s a lawyer, the very best one in the world, don’t tell Natasha you thought that; there were a million little things in your brief explanation that had set off alarm bells in her head, but she didn’t pry. You don’t know why you thought she would, but having the topic dropped before it was even picked up had soothed at least a fraction of your newfound worry.

The question startled you, having expected that to be the last thing she suggested, but it felt good to know that she was willing to order takeout for dinner if it meant getting you out of this situation. You wanted to leave, you desperately wanted to run to the exit at the first implication that you were allowed, but they needed groceries, and you wanted the chocolate ice cream sandwiches Natasha had promised. “No.” You whispered, shaking your head just in case she hadn’t heard you over the toddler screaming bloody murder in the juice aisle. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to sit in the cart while Nat and I finish shopping? I’ll give you back your phone and you can listen to your music until we’re done. It’s not a punishment, stop looking at me like that.” Wanda teased, and you giggled softly at her scrunched up nose and creased eyes. It was definitely a better suited look than her angry glare, and you couldn’t stop your finger from reaching out to poke her. “Did you just boop my nose?” She laughed, all of your bratty behavior forgotten about, at least for now anyways.

“It wanted to be booped. It told me.” You shrugged your shoulders, hyper aware of the fact that you’d voluntarily touched her and it hadn’t made your hand turn into flames. Your relationship was slowly on the mend, that much was undeniable, but physical touch was still something you shied away from at no fault of her own, but rather your own insecurities that needed to be worked through. “Are you gonna tell Natty I pushed you?”

“No.” Her honesty surprised you almost as much as her willingness to forgive your fatal misstep, but you nodded curtly, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I didn’t mean to. You were just too close, and Natty didn’t listen when I asked her to let go and I panicked.” You mumbled out the reason for your behavior, aware that it sounded like an excuse but there was no ounce of judgment or disbelief in Wanda’s eyes.

“I know.” She assured, and you deflated in relief. “You’re not going to do it again, if you do I will not be as forgiving, but I know you were feeling crowded, so I’m willing to let it go if you are.”

You nodded eagerly, and Wanda smiled. “Can we go find Nat now?”

As you expected, spending the night in your dorm was torturous. In the six weeks that you’d been away, you’d forgotten how your roommate snores and turns throughout the night, and her mattress was far noisier than yours had ever been. It hadn’t bothered you all that much at the start of the academic year, and maybe that had been because of your exhaustion with the adjustment and workload of seven classes instead of the typical four, or maybe you had just been able to get used to it, but now that you had discovered what true quiet sounds like when you sleep, there had not been a single ounce of rest achieved all night.

Your alarm went off at fifteen minutes to six, and you cursed whoever was cruel enough to schedule an exam for seven in the morning on a Thursday in May, but you shuffled out of bed anyway and dressed quickly in the few articles of clothing that still lingered in your dorm. Most of them had been brought to the Maximoff residence, but what hadn’t made it over because it was significantly useless with the presence of warmer weather, had been dropped off in the storage unit paid for by your mother. The woman was a flaky figure in your life at best, definitely no parent, but you appreciate her dedication to your education. She paid for your tuition, she assured you had the best meal plan and access to books and study materials, and when the seasons changed and you were let out on break, she made sure there was a safe and trustworthy place to store your belongings. She’d never once said she was proud of you, but when she asked for a report of your grades and didn’t immediately berate you, you knew that she was at least satisfied.

If you failed any of your finals, you knew there would be hell to pay. You already weren’t coming home for the summer like you usually did, and although your mother didn’t know the reason why, she was less than happy when you’d relayed the abrupt change in plans three weeks ago. She was a controlling narcissist, a woman that had brought you years of pain and suffering for her own pleasure, you knew what she was capable of the second she caught wind of academic failure, and you would not reward her the opportunity to berate you the way she did in high school when you received anything less than all A’s on your report card. It was stupid to allow a woman with no presence in your life to have so much control, but you needed to at least be perceived as a good daughter if she were going to keep paying your multi-thousand dollar bills.

The weather today was just as hot as yesterday, but there was a rise of humidity in the air that you could feel without even stepping outside. The sky looked thick and unpleasant, miraculously blue and clear, but still gross. As much as you wanted to hide away in your room and avoid the four hour exam that awaited you, it wasn’t in the cards, and so begrudgingly you laced up your shoes and grabbed your favorite pen. It was a simple pen, nothing truly special about it, but since the day you’d stolen it from Natasha’s desk, it had been used for every paper exam. The gold lettering across the black body, the name of her and Wanda’s company, was beginning to scratch and chip from the conditions you carried it through. And for being something so beloved, anyone would have thought that you’d treat it with respect, but you released copious amounts of anger and frustration on the ballpoint pen. Your teeth dug into it when you didn’t know an answer, your nails scraped at the paint when the words you had stored away in your memory felt impossible to grasp, and there were countless times that the entire pen sat dismantled and in pieces on your desk when you just needed something else to focus on for a few seconds. During one exam, you’d taken it apart mid-way through. The spring had bounced from between your fingertips and ended up halfway across the room. Your professor was a real bitch, and hadn’t let you retrieve the piece until every single person had already left and finished. You passed the exam, but not by much, and you blamed your grade on the fact that you had to finish it with a purple gel pen that was less than special. You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Leaving your room behind, you walked to the classroom that you’d be sitting the exam in. It wasn’t a building you were familiar with, and so you packed an extra ten minutes into your schedule to avoid being late. Flowers had started to bloom in the bushes, and the grass was so much greener then it had been in the dead of winter, but there was no comfort to be sought in this environment. Your university was fine, albeit a bit bland, but Westview had become your home. You thought Wanda’s flowers smelled sweeter then the ones planted here, and the grass in their yard was the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen. You don’t know how they have the time to take such tender care with their plants, but it made sense for them. They were busy women, women with a fast paced life and career, but there were still mundane rituals that clung to their routine. Before the contract, it had been almost impossible to imagine CEO and world-class lawyer Natasha Maximoff taking out the trash, but now you know she does it every Wednesday. It was also impossible to imagine Wanda Maximoff on her knees and covered in mud, there was never even a wrinkle in her business attire when she returned from the office after sixteen hour days, but now you’re privy to the fact that she doesn’t shy away from getting dirty when she tends to the weeds in her garden. It’s the simple things that make their company so much better then what you’ve found at Sword University, but no matter how much you wish you could be in Westview with them, no amount of heel clicking could take you there.

When you found the exam room, you noted that it was unpleasantly cold, and you cursed at your inability to have remembered to bring along a sweatshirt like Natasha had suggested. There was no consistency at school, some classrooms were blisteringly hot and you could work up a sweat in minutes just from sitting still, and some were so cold your fingers forgot how to function. It didn’t matter the season, or if you simply walked down the hallway, the temperature was never the same and it varied from room to room. You chose a desk near the windows. Not right next to them, knowing that it would get too hot if you were pressed right beside the uncovered sun, but close enough to still feel the lick of warmth as the golden beams of daylight nipped at your skin. It didn’t take much longer for your peers to start flooding in, and their presence brought another factor of warmth to the room, though it wasn’t much and some who hadn’t been lucky enough to find a seat near the windows shivered. You smiled at the familiar face of a student who had claimed the seat next to you. You didn’t have many friends, didn’t see the point in socializing when your focus needed to be academic, but you had grown fond of a few of the faces you saw every week.

“This your last exam?” Monica Rambeau asked you, leaning in closer to your desk so that you wouldn’t have to shout over the other students in the room. You had seen her around since your very first class in freshman year, and you quickly became reliant on each other for notes if one of you happened to be sick and needed to miss a lecture you shared. Your major was complex, not entirely science related but not entirely separate either. You wanted to focus more on security and technology, but for some reason your school demanded that all computer science majors take chemistry and physics. Monica was good at both, you were not. She had saved your ass with her color coded notes too many times to ever ignore her small-talk.

“Thankfully.” You laughed, tapping your pen against your desk anxiously. “I’m moving the rest of my shit out next week and then I’m spending the summer in Westview. What about you?”

The brunette shook her head, and you winced in sympathy. As grueling as it had been to have most of your exams scheduled in the same week, save for the three classes that had requested papers and projects from you, it was nice to be done so soon into the exam period. You knew that some other unfortunate students would be stuck here for at least another week. “I have two more tomorrow, then I’m heading back to Louisiana. You ready for this?”

“Not at all.” You laughed, though your jittery leg and fidgeting fingers easily gave away just how anxious you were. “Sitwell hasn’t made sense a day in his life, I doubt the exam will be any more coherent than his lectures.”

Monica laughed loudly at your acquisition, but she nodded eagerly in agreement. “Tell me about it. I’ve been going over your study sheet for the last two weeks and I think I just barely understand the content from chapter one.”

Your attention snapped to the door when it snapped open again, but unlike the last handful of times, it wasn’t a student that entered, it was your Professor Jasper Sitwell himself, and in his hands were thick bundles of paper that would determine the next year of your life. If you failed this exam, you could kiss your paid for tuition goodbye. You appreciated Monica’s attention to body language, because she seemed to get the hint that you were in no mood to continue your conversation now that Sitwell had arrived. She still offered you a smile though, a whispered ‘good luck’, before she turned straight in her desk and placed three colored pens down firmly. Leave it to Monica to remain dedicated to her color coding even at the end of the semester.

The time had flown by after that. You’d groaned when you saw that the estimated time of this exam would be four hours, but now you felt like that wasn’t nearly enough. The first six pages of questions had come easily to you, though it was still challenging and you doubted that most of your answers were entirely correct, but the last page had stumped you rather quickly and entirely. You jumped between questions, filling in pieces of information when they came to mind, but nothing could jog your memory when you were confronted with the very last question of the exam. Your brows furrowed, a sheen of perspiration clung to your skin. Was it a trick question? No, a professor wouldn’t purposefully stump you when so much was on the line. Despite your confidence in Sitwell, you’re absolutely certain that you’ve never gone over any materials that even slightly relate to the last topic. You’ve read the textbook forward and backwards, you practically dreamed about this course material, but you had never seen these words present in any of the lectures.

Your hand shot up from the desk before you could stop yourself, but by time you realized you were seeking attention from Sitwell, he had called you up to the front of the room. A glance at the clock on the wall beside the door told you there was just under twenty minutes left. By this point in an exam, most students would have been gone, but every single one of them still remained, and although you weren’t intentionally looking at anyone’s paper, the few that you had seen had all been open on the last page. You weren’t the only one confused.

“How can I help you, Ms. Y/L/N?” Sitwell kept his voice quiet, and like always, detached. You wondered how a man who seemed to hate every person even remotely younger than himself had found a profession in teaching, but you didn’t let his attitude deter you from asking anyway. This question could very easily make you seem like an idiot, but you were confident in yourself, and well, Jasper Sitwell seemed exactly the type to make a mistake like this.

Matching his quiet tone, assuring that only the first row of students could hear you, you laid your exam in front of him and pointed out the question. “This isn’t related to your course, sir. It’s not in the textbook, and we’ve never gone over it in a lecture.”

You waited for the moment he berated you for questioning his exam but it never came. When you grew the balls to look up at him, you found a smirk of satisfaction on his lips. “You’re correct. That question has no value in this course. It’s been on my exam for the last ten years and nobody has ever questioned me. Congratulations, Ms. Y/L/N, it seems somebody has finally read the textbook.”

A look of sheer bewilderment crossed your face, but Sitwell gave you no chance to speak again before he promptly took the exam from your hands and kept it at his side. Anxiety shot through your stomach when you realized that he wasn’t going to give it back to you. There was still thirteen minutes left on the clock, and you’d intended to spend every last second meticulously checking your work until he had to pry it from your fingertips when time ran out. So much could be wrong about your answers, you could’ve missed a question or twenty, and now you’d have no way of knowing because he wouldn’t give it back.

“Be on your way.” He nodded toward the door when you didn’t budge. There was no use arguing with him, he never listened anyways, but you couldn’t just walk away without checking over your paper one last time.

“Sir, I still have time to go over my answers.” You weakly protested, a single palm extended in the direction of your exam, hoping that for once he was willing to budge. No luck, his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened, and you took that as a sign to get the hell out of dodge before he did something drastic like rip your exam in half. You would never be taking another class from him again, if you even got the chance to finish your degree.

With a sigh of defeat, you headed back to your desk, collected your lucky pen, and waved subtly in Monica’s direction before you headed to the door and broke away from anything and everything even remotely related to academics for the next three months.

Ever since childhood, you have adored the sight of the sun in the spring and summer months. Not in the middle of the day when it was blinding and heavy, but toward the approach of night when everything it’s surface could touch was brightened by ripples of violet and peach presence. Tonight had been the first expanse of light across the shoretown the Maximoff’s lived in, and though they’d both been home all day with a rare break from office obligations, their cars were warm to the touch when you passed by them in the driveway.

Despite the warm air and lingerance of sunshine off in the horizon, your disposition was reflective of the colder times when attitudes clashed and people let themselves fall inward. You’d been blind to the change in mood as a child. There was no bad time of year when you were seven and strangers stopped to compliment your velcro shoes as they passed, but now that adulthood had claimed what remained of your innocence, you’d been shown the true nature of winter and fall. The first time you realized that strangers were nicer in the summer, you’d been fifteen. Admittedly, that was a bit old to only just be realizing that life was cruel and people were snobs, but you’d always been an optimist; you still are an optimist. You vowed to never become someone so mean after that day, but that was yet another promise you had failed to keep for yourself.

Your face is set in a permanent scowl, which seems to be the new normal as Wanda and Natasha move about around you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, your eyes staring straight ahead of you at the movie that’s playing in the background. They’re attempting to get the house straightened up, something about hosting a barbeque over the weekend and not wanting to leave the mess to deal with at a later date. Had you been in a better mood, you would’ve offered to help, would’ve laughed and joked along with them, but the unknown of your last exam has firmly pushed you over the edge and now every minor inconvenience is working on your last available nerve.

Wanda laughs at something Natasha whispers in her ear, the two of them somehow always finding a reason to gravitate toward one another despite the many different tasks that still needed to be accomplished. You didn’t think the house was as messy as Wanda claimed, but you hadn’t offered her that briefest sentence of reassurance. When you walked in, defeat heavy on your shoulders as you over analyzed the exchange between yourself and Professor Sitwell, you’d wanted nothing more than to fall into Natasha’s lap and let her distract you however she saw fit. She had, for a couple minutes at least, but then she’d pushed you out of her embrace and had started helping Wanda around the house. The Sokovian was practically on a mission to regain some order, dusting bookshelves and tables, collecting stray blankets that had made their way into the living room and across random furniture pieces. It hadn’t looked messy, just lived in, but that wasn’t good enough.

“Can you lift your feet for a second?” The taller of the pair looked at you expectantly, the neck of their expensive vacuum clutched between her ringed fingers. She hadn’t been the slightest bit deterred by your poor attitude when you came barreling into the house and hadn’t even offered her so much as a hello before you plopped down in Natasha’s lap and dug your face into her neck, and she had even let you put your feet up on her coffee table when eventually the Russian left your side start cleaning. She had been very patient with you, knowing how nervous you were about the exam and your results, but much like yours, her patience wasn’t unlimited. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer.”

You huffed, readjusting yourself on the couch, though you still didn’t move your legs out of her way. Natasha watched the scene unfold with an uninterpretable expression in her eyes. She was aware of how you’d been testing Wanda more and more as the weeks went by, and she had warned you that it was only a matter of time before the woman snapped and dealt with your attitude by her own measures. Three weeks ago, that would’ve been enough to scare you into submission, but you had shrugged off her warning to stop pushing boundaries, entirely uninterested in the conversation she was trying to have.

Wanda sighed and let go of the vacuum, resting it against the couch to be grabbed again later. You’d expected her to move onto a different task, maybe even march her way upstairs until you changed your attitude, but when her hands grabbed at your ankles and harshly removed them from the coffee table, you gasped in shock and flinched away from her touch, a glare settled in her direction.

“Stop!” You whined, kicking your foot out in her direction as a weak attempt at retaliation, but you made no attempt to put them back on the coffee table. Instead, you extended them outward, taking up almost the entire length of the couch. Not that it mattered, neither one of them were planning on sitting down with you anytime soon. Wanda quirked an eyebrow down at you, an expression that you were getting seriously tired of, before she reached for the remote and turned off the television. “I was watching that!” You cried out in annoyance, reaching for the remote that was held away from your hands.

“Good girls get to watch movies.” She simply stated and handed the remote over to Natasha, who seemed to know exactly where it needed to go. The remote was promptly placed on one of the highest shelves in the room, and the fact that it had been done on purpose because she knew you wouldn’t be able to reach that high without a stool only angered you further.

“So what? You’re gonna ground me? I’m not a child.” You snapped at her, your voice tinged with what could only be described as pure venom. The snarky comments you’d been making for days seemed like child's play now, at least then you’d had the decency to show her some semblance of respect, but now, there wasn’t an ounce of anything kind in your tone.

“If you’re going to act like one, I’m going to treat you like one. I have been more than patient with you, even though you’re being nothing short of a brat. My willingness to ignore your little attitude will not last much longer, so I suggest you get over yourself before I have you over my lap.” Her words should’ve scared you, they should’ve worked as a last ditch effort to get you to behave, but if anything, it only spurred you on further. You were beyond the point of simply wanting some kind of punishment. Unlike in recent days when it had been a tickle at the back of your mind, now you desperately needed it. The end of the semester always felt like the biggest relief until it actually came, and you were left with no productive purpose to fulfill. You needed a push in the right direction, and now that you had been introduced to this dynamic, where Natasha was more than willing to make decisions for you and take care of you, you wanted to fall right into that state of comfort and control. Your mind wouldn’t let you stop thinking though, and no matter how hard you pleaded with yourself to just let her take the reins, control would not be so easily relinquished. It had been weeks since your last spanking. Days since the last time she had fucked you hard enough to cause you to slip into subspace. For months you’d been shown and taught about the beauty of this dynamic, and it was just suddenly beginning to fall away. You knew that you didn’t need to be naughty to receive a spanking, knew that if you asked she’d be more than happy to provide it, but you didn’t want to need her just to feel content. It was like a double-edged sword had rammed its way into your brain and every time you turned your head you fought between completely surrendering control and always maintaining it.

“If I’m a brat then you’re a bitch.” You met Wanda’s stare, there was no backing down now. You were so close to what you wanted, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to care that it wasn’t Natasha you were seeking it from. Ever since that night curled up in her arms when the world felt like it was ending, something was undeniably different. You didn’t want to crave her but you did, and the longer she refused to play into your games, the more you wanted her. She was scary when she was mad, terrifying when she was livid, but somehow you had crossed both of those thresholds in only one sentence. There was something dark in her eyes that you’d never seen before, and it made your stomach twist into knots knowing that you were the sole reason she had lost her happy spark. She radiated dominance, expelled the radiant energy of someone who knew they had control, even if for the briefest second, you had been foolish enough to think you were the one with it. It wasn’t anger or frustration in her eyes, although they were both present, but rather dominance. You’d seen her be dominant, you’d been scolded by her many times, but it had always been concealed. She had always remained respectful of your boundaries and control to Natasha only, but you had pushed her too far. Things had changed too much. Neither of you were the women you had been at the start of this situation, and it was only a matter of time before the carpet rolled beneath your feet and you had to face the music.

“Get upstairs.” She demanded of you, and for the first time since showing up, you didn’t have the words to fight. You scrambled off the couch and practically flew toward the stairs, only to stop halfway up when you realized you didn’t know where she wanted you to go.

“Our bedroom, honey.” Natasha called after you, having watched the entire thing unfold. Now that you realized what position you had walked yourself into, there was anxiety flooding your desperate gaze as you pleaded with her to save you. Natasha wouldn’t save you this time though. She had warned you, told you that you wouldn’t like the trap you were walking yourself into, but you hadn’t listened. “I’ll be up to talk with you in a second, it’s okay.”

“Y/N, if you are not in that room in the next twenty seconds, I will not be so kind as to give you the choice about what I spank your ass with.” Wanda’s voice was level, it didn’t waver like you knew yours would if you even dared to try and speak. You nodded frantically, scrambling to get up the stairs and into their bedroom before the countdown in your head got down to zero.

You didn’t know what to do once you were inside, didn’t know if you should close the door or leave it open, didn’t know if you should sit on the bed or continue to stand beside it. You’d never been alone in their bedroom, it felt like an odd invasion of privacy now that you were. Your mind reeled with endless possibilities, though none of them pleasant. Wanda was going to spank you, she had practically promised that, but what else would she do? Would she make you terminate your contract with Natasha because you’d called her a bitch? Would she slap you around like your father had done when you’d ever dared to disrespect him so aggressively? Tears pricked your eyes at all of your unanswered questions, and you noted that this feeling in your belly was distinctly different then the times when Natasha pulled you over her lap. You’d gotten a handful of punishments before, of course you have because even though you like being good for her, it’s still fun to act out, but those punishments had always been light with the unspoken promise of sexual relief afterward. This was the first time you’d ever actually been punished outside of sexual interactions. This was the first time you’d ever pissed Wanda off enough to be the one who dealt the cards. So much was changing and you couldn’t keep up, but really there was nothing for you to keep up with. You didn’t know what would happen next, you had never been in this situation before.

The floorboards creaked beneath footsteps, and you noted that just beyond the window not covered by blinds, the sunshine had finally settled. Nothing was left to see beside darkened skies and the roofs of all of the other houses on the block, though even then the sight was void of any actual interest. The Maximoff residence was the largest on the block, and it towered over the houses that sat on both sides of it. You’d always thought that CEO’s lived in big lavish mansions, but Wanda and Natasha had chosen a perfectly normal town to settle down in. They had expensive cars, sure, but that wasn’t even a fraction of the money they had. They were total anomalies, and that fact was only making you grow more uneasy.

“Detka.” Natasha sighed, and you were thankful it was only her that had entered. Had Wanda been with her, you would’ve spiral face down into a panic attack that couldn’t be stopped. “I warned you, did I not?”

You sighed, knowing that there was no time for her to give you all the reassurances you needed. Wanda was being kind enough to let Natasha check in on you, but you doubted she had the patience to sit downstairs for hours as you pleaded with your dominant to give you answers even she didn’t have. “J-Just tell me what’s gonna happen. I need to know what’s going to happen.”

“She’s going to spank you, and then she’s going to hold you, and reassure you that you’re okay. No different from what I do. Are you okay with her spanking you? I know we’ve talked about it, but this isn’t the funishment you thought you’d be getting when we agreed to those conditions, huh?” Natasha collected you into her arms, being surprisingly gentle with you despite the fact that you had just called her wife a bitch. You shook your head against her chest, fisting her loose fitting t-shirt in your heads, fearing that she would pull away far too early for your liking.

“I wanted you to spank me.” You admitted sheepishly into her touch, sighing softly when her fingers tangled into your hair and gently worked out the knots that lingered near the ends. “I’ve been good and you’ve been… soft. And I just can’t get my brain to be quiet, and I wanted you to spank me so I kept trying to push your buttons and you just kept forgiving me.”

“Daddy’s been pretty lenient with you, hasn’t she?” Natasha cooed, not placing blame on your shoulders even though you knew she very easily could have. You nodded in response to her question, feeling better now that she was aware of the root cause of your attitude, even if that didn’t save you from Wanda’s wrath. “You’ve been breaking a lot of rules, rules that Wanda’s aware of.”

“She’s gonna give me ten for every one, isn’t she?” You winced, knowing that this would not be a pleasant experience and your ass was sure to hurt every time you sat down for at least the next week.

“She is, and it’s going to hurt. It’s supposed to hurt, but she’s not going to push you farther than you can handle. What do you call if you need a break?” Natasha asked sweetly, pulling your face away from her chest and holding your cheeks in her hands, forcing you to look up into her eyes and see that there's no lingering resentment or anger.

“Yellow.” You answered, the word engraved in your brain despite having never needed to call it. “Red if I need it to stop completely. But… we’re not playing.”

“Just because she’s not going to touch you after doesn’t mean that it’s okay for her to break you, detka. Is that what you thought was going to happen?” Natasha frowns, her lips turning deeper downward when you nodded as an answer.

“My dad… punished me with violence. He didn’t stop until he wanted to. You’ve only ever punished me sexually, not because I purposely broke the outside rules.” You whispered, another hint at your traumatic past hanging in the air. “I called her a bitch. I tried to kick her. I pushed her in the store yesterday.” You admitted, though when there was no reaction, you guessed that Wanda had already told her.

“Because you needed space. She is not going to punish you for that. She’s going to punish you because you were being disrespectful, and because you need it, huh? You need help getting that brain to shut off. You did so many big things this week, I bet it’s not that easy to just come back to this dynamic and allow us to take control when you’ve been the one in charge all week.” Natasha whispered knowingly, a glint in her eyes that reassured you of her understanding. “Finals are stressful. When Wanda and I were in college, we used to go at each other until we were red in the face and then we’d move on like nothing happened. We get it, milaya. We don’t expect you to be good at this yet, or to know how to ask for what you need. You can stop thinking the world is going to end because you made a mistake.”

“I meant to call her a bitch, but I didn’t actually mean it.” You admitted softly and Natasha chuckled, pulling you in closer and laying a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“We both know what you meant, malyshka. She’s not downstairs brewing in anger, even though I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. This dynamic is not about fear and power. I should’ve explained that better. You have all the power here, honey, but just like you can call red, so can she. It’s a balance, a team effort. You got it?”

“I got it.” You sighed, leaning into her touch, wishing you could just surrender to this moment for the rest of your life, but there was no way that was happening. As daunting as it was, you needed Wanda to punish you. You want to let go of the guilt, you want to relinquish control and just listen to what they ask of you. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to, but it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, even if I don’t exactly like you calling my wife a bitch.” She teased, her fingers leaving your cheeks to trail down toward your ribs where she knows your ticklish. You shrieked in response, wiggling away from her fingers just in time for Wanda to knock on the open bedroom door and announce her presence.

She was significantly calmer then she had been downstairs, and that faint lick of anger in her eyes had settled to dust, but she still captivated you and sought for your submission. Her eyes were green, you forced yourself to remember that fact. They weren’t overcome with blackness like all the other times you’ve awaited punishment, but thoughts of your childhood didn’t even come to mind as you let yourself be present in this moment. This was not your childhood. The second you needed this to stop, or you needed her to slow down, you had to say one simple word and it would. As much as this act was about you giving over control, you knew that the reality was you would never be fully powerless.

You didn’t know what to say, if you should even say anything at all, so you merely waved your hand in Wanda’s direction, not wanting to completely ignore her. She smiled softly at you, not softening her body language, but at least her face mirrored your greeting.

“Hi, malen’kaya.” She laughed softly, and you were relieved to find that Natasha had been being honest about Wanda not brewing in her anger, though you hadn’t really doubted her, just needed that validation for yourself. “You talk to Natty?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded your head, unaware of how your hand still tangled in the fabric of Natasha’s t-shirt gripped onto her harshly. It was an unconscious thing, but was quickly soothed by a kiss being placed into your hairline.

“I’m gonna be right here, ангел. If I think you need to call red and you’re not doing it yourself, I’m going to call it. Nothing bad is going to happen.” She promised, and you felt better at the proposition that she’d be looking out for you as well.

“That was quite the show you put on downstairs.” Wanda mused, her face back to that blank slate of dominance that made your palms clammy. You stepped closer to Natasha, just barely managing to nod your head at her admission. “Come with me.”

“Go ahead, I’ll still be here.” Natasha sent you toward Wanda with a gentle shove, and when you looked back at her over your shoulder, she merely smiled in reassurance.

Wanda led you over to the walk-in closet You’d never been inside, but you’d seen Natasha disappear into it after a scene, usually when she was scrounging around to find a specific cooling lotion for your ass. Wanda didn’t make any efforts to invade your space, giving you time to accept your fate on your own accord. The space was large, and there were no shortage of dresses and suits hung up on the taller racks. You smiled softly at a purple suit in the corner, wondering which of the two women it belonged to.

“That’s Natasha’s.” Wanda hummed, seeming to follow your eye toward the suit. “That’s not why we're in here though.”

You nodded, pulling your eye away from the suit in favor of following whatever box Wanda was pointing out. It was large and black, one of the only objects in the closet that looked like it didn’t really belong. She walked over to it, getting down on her knees and motioning for you to do the same.

“I can either spank you with my hand, or with a paddle.” You swallowed thickly at your options, but nodded your head and looked down at the case that Wanda had pulled open. Your eyes practically bulged out of your head at the sight of so many sex toys, but Wanda merely laughed at your flushed cheeks. “Natasha isn’t much a fan of being paddled. It stings and will burn for longer than a hand spanking does, but she has received plenty of both.” There’s a tinge of fond exasperation in Wanda’s words that make you think Natasha is better at asking for what she needs than you are, and that most of the spankings Wanda’s internally recounting aren’t all derived from punishment. You remember the conversation you had weeks ago, where Wanda had confirmed that Natasha was the submissive in their relationship.

“I don’t want that.” You whispered, shaking your head adamantly. “Never.”

“Okay. That’s perfectly okay. Not everyone likes instruments being used for a spanking. This is the lotion I’m going to put on you afterward. It’s the same one Natasha uses, but I want you to know what to expect.” Wanda gives you the bottle, and you don’t even bother to look down at it, entirely focused on her face. There’s something different about her like this, so easily dominant and captivating, you want to commit this new energy to memory. “You’re going to get fifty spanks. If you need to slow down, or if you need to stop, I expect that you call your safewords. If I need to stop, I’m going to call mine. Part of your punishment is that you will not be receiving an orgasm afterward. You're lucky I haven’t taken them away for the next week.”

You gulped, suddenly remembering that this was a punishment, although you didn’t know how you could have forgotten that fact. Wanda smirked in amusement at your flushed features, and tenderly she reached up to smoothing stray strands of hair away from your face. “Can I kiss you?” She asked quietly, and although it was Wanda not Natasha, you nodded eagerly. You didn’t hate her, you didn’t dislike her, you wanted her just as badly as you wanted Natasha. You didn’t know how you’d been so blind to that fact for so long. “Words, detka.”

“Yes.” You breathed out, already leaning into her touch when she set her hands on your cheeks and pulled your face into hers. Her lips were soft beneath yours, softer than Natasha’s, and she tasted like the fakest cherries. Her tongue swiped across your bottom lip, asking for entrance rather than demanding it. You didn’t hesitate to let her in, moaning softly into her mouth when her hot and heavy tongue licked against yours and officially claimed you the way you had seen it do to Natasha on a handful of occasions.

You don’t know how many minutes had passed as you sat on the floor of the walk-in closet, but when Wanda finally pulled away from you, her chest rising and falling faster than it had been before, your cheeks were flush for more than one reason.

“You can’t kiss me like that after you tell me I’m not allowed to cum tonight.” You whined softly, squirming on the floor as your arousal made its presence known between your legs. Wanda laughed in amusement, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips.

“I guess little girls need to learn how to behave if they want something from Mommy then.” The softest inch of her accent had drifted into the words, and if that wasn’t enough to send a rush of pleasure straight to your core, the added bonus of her title was. You whined desperately, your thighs rubbing together as you sought out even a second of relief. Flashes of Natasha teasing you on the phone came to mind, and the lust in your eyes only intensified. “Enough.” Wanda scolded, “I want you naked and bent over the bed in the next three minutes.”

You nodded obediently, having done enough arguing for the night. You got to your feet with the same grace as bambi, practically bolting out of the closet and into the bedroom. You giggled softly when you realized that your first kiss with the lawyer who was very proudly a lesbian had been in a closet of all places.

“There’s no way whatever happened in that closet deserves to be laughed about.” Natasha quirked an eyebrow in your direction, though it was significantly less scary then when Wanda did it. She watched you strip out of your clothes hurriedly, not sparing the few minutes you had been given to fold them nicely in a pile.

“Your wife is a lesbian.” You deadpanned, though you knew Natasha was very much aware of that fact if the felt pride flag in what you assumed was Wanda’s side of the closet had ever caught her attention.

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious.”

“And she just kissed me in the closet.” You giggled, and Natasha couldn’t say that she wasn’t equally as amused as you were, but she had the decency to control her laughter in front of Wanda, who you hadn’t even realized was standing right behind you.

“If you don’t want me to add another ten onto your fifty, you’ll bend your ass over my bed and stop making me wait.” Your blood went cold and your spine straightened as you felt the softest trace of Wanda’s warm breath against the shell of your ear. The warning didn’t need to be whispered twice, because you were already scrambling to get into position, a lot less nervous then you had been before. “I want you to count them all. If you miss one, I add two more.”

“Okay.” You whispered, already fisting the comforter in your hands, waiting for the first strike to land against your uncovered ass. You didn’t even have it in your to be embarrassed about Wanda seeing you so exposed, just wanting to get this situation over with so that you could fall face first into Natasha’s chest.

“Is that how we address our dominants now?” Wanda practically growled, standing so closer to you that you could feel the heat of her body radiating onto yours.

“Yes, Mommy.” You fixed your mistake, your eyes pinched closed as you pushed your hips backward until they met her thighs, unconsciously seeking relief for your clit that was pulsing between your legs. You shrieked in surprise when she abruptly stepped away and laid the first hit onto your left cheek in only a matter of seconds. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wanda was well practiced in this domain. The spank was hard, significantly harder then Natasha had ever started out with, and you knew you were in for it with the promise of forty-nine more to come. “One, Mommy.”

Your grip on the comforter got tighter and tighter with each spank that came next until your knuckles were white and your chin trembled from the onslaught of pain. At the thirteenth spank, you moaned in pleasure, and your hips bucked backward desperately searching for pressure between your thighs that never came and wouldn’t come. Wanda’s laughter was anything but genuine behind you, and you didn’t even want to imagine what you must look like to her; bent over the bed she shares with her wife, your ass pink from the assault of her palm, and arousal dampening the insides of your thighs.

“So much for not having a pain kink.” She mused, though she wasn’t really talking to you. Natasha was sitting at the head of the bed with a smug gleam in her eyes, and you knew the sight of you like this was turning her on, if the dilation in her pupils was any indication of that fact. “Little slut is dripping.” You gasped when soft fingers ran over your ass, dipping lower and lower until they found your empty entrance that begged for anything to fill it, be it a dildo or the fingers of the woman who was responsible for pushing you into this state. “Do you like when Mommy hits you?”

“Yes.” You whine, not even attempting to keep your hips still as Wanda collects your arousal on the tips of her fingers, but like promised, never reaches your clit. You cried out your protests when her fingers left your core, only for you to gasp in shock when she leaned forward on the bed and fed them expectantly to Natasha who let her mouth fall open in acceptance.

The redhead moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, lapping at Wanda’s fingers until they were clean of your excitement. A needy moan left your lips seeing the blissful expression on the face of your dominant, and desperately you reached out for her hand that laid next to yours overtop of the white blankets on the bed. She let you grasp it, let you squeeze it and pull at it, but she never leaned in any closer to you. This was a punishment, you would not be rewarded midway through.

Wanda’s additional weight caused the bed to dip, and you had to readjust your stance to keep from slipping onto the floor. She wasn’t behind you anymore, rather perched on the bed beside your body, leaning in close to her wife whose lips shone in the dim lighting of the room with traces of your arousal. Wanda kissed her deeply, the wet sounds their moving mouths made taunting you further, and you groaned in response to their teasing. The lawyer who hadn’t even gotten halfway through your punishment moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, only pulling away from Natasha when she needed a break for air.

She was back behind the second she was breathing normally, and the fourteenth spank came in the same place her thirteenth one had. You counted out the spanks as they came, but other than the contact her palm made with your ass, you were properly ignored. If Wanda made a comment, it was directed to Natasha, and the one time you had been bold enough to answer for yourself, you had been met with a spank to the back of your thigh that was admittedly very soft and careful.

It was after twenty that you no longer found pleasure in her hits, and your moans and whines had turned to cries and sobs. Natasha held your hand firmly, her thumb rubbing against your knuckles as you took your punishment well. Wanda was proud of you, even if she hadn’t told you that yet.

“F-forty!” You sobbed out, arching away from the lawyer's hand only seconds after it came down on your ass. Your entire body ached from the position you were half-stood in, your cunt pulsed with need, but your ass was on fire and you had no doubt that it would be bruised by sunrise tomorrow. “Please.” You cried out, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for.

“You’re doing so good. You’re doing so good for me, milaya.” Wanda soothed you quickly and effectively, her tone soft and gentle as she let you have your feelings. The heavy hand that had been assaulting your skin for the last twenty minutes if the clock on her bedside table was accurate was suddenly soft as she rubbed soft circles on your ass, soothing the sting into a more bearable ache. “Ten more and then we can cuddle. Why don’t you let Natty’s hand go and she’ll go get you some water.”

“N-No! No! Natty stay!” You held onto her desperately, like even the suggestion of her leaving would make it come true.

“I’m staying, malyshka. I’m staying.” Natasha assured you, scooting closer to your trembling body so she could lay a hand on your naked back, her firm touch grounding you in this moment where both of your dominants were with you. “You’re okay. You’re being so good. Such a good girl. Ten more baby, think you can do that?”

You nodded albeit weakly, and Wanda took that as her sign to keep going, to get this over with so that she could put her efforts into comforting you. It was on the last spank that you had crumbled completely, going limp against the bed as you sobbed in relief. You made the decision that you never wanted to piss Wanda off to this extent again.

“Good girl. You were so good. Took your spanking so well.” Wanda helped you stand up, spinning you around so that her eyes could meet yours for the first time in half an hour.

“Mommy.” You sobbed, falling face first into her chest, clutching the fabric of her shirt in your trembling fists. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You repeated it like a mantra, sobs and sniffles the only other audible sound that you could hear. You didn’t recognize Wanda praising you for taking your punishment so well, you didn’t hear her whisper of a promise that it was over and you were forgiven. You hadn’t even realized that Natasha had promptly left the bedroom and gone down to the kitchen to retrieve water and a snack if you wanted it.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, look at Mommy.” Wanda coaxed your attention up at her, pulling your face out of the pit of darkness you had found against her chest. “You’re okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

You nodded weakly, letting Wanda guide you into the middle of the bed and onto your belly. As promised, she rubbed the cooling lotion into your skin, mumbling soft praises beneath her breath whenever you flinched away from the contact. The soft cooling effect hadn’t taken long to set in, and when it did, it was like an immediate sense of relief had washed over your senses, though everything was still foggy and far away. You only barely recognized Natasha sitting down beside you, but you whined in protest when she tried to pull you into her side, reaching out to Wanda with a pleading look in your eyes that neither one of them could ignore.

It hurt to sit, that was putting it lightly, but you forced yourself up into a sitting position so that you could accept the bottle of water Natasha offered. She held it up to your lips as you gulped it down quickly, finishing half the bottle before she pulled it away, worried that you’d upset your stomach if you drank it all so quickly. Wanda had laid down beside you, forcing you onto her chest to alleviate the discomfort in your bottom. With your head on her chest, your legs between hers, your eyes searched for Natasha as she moved around the room, collecting pajamas and a wet washcloth that would be used to clean up the unfixed mess between your legs.

The first pass of the warm fabric between your legs had rubbed against your clit accidentally, and you moaned in pleasure that was quickly taken away. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not tonight.” She shushed your cries softly, though it didn’t make you any happier. You wiggled against Wanda at the uncomfortable feeling you weren’t used to being left with, and she didn’t try to stop you from rubbing your legs together.

“Tomorrow.” She whispered against your temple when you grew frustrated at not being able to fully satisfy the ache. “The more you move the worse it’s going to get. Mommy will take care of you tomorrow, just rest for right now. Close your eyes, detka.”

When Wanda’s finger attempted to wipe the fallen tears off your cheeks, you were quick to capture the finger between your teeth, and she didn’t even stop you. She smiled down at your flushed face, feeling more than content with your current clinginess. She knew you were down pretty far in that floaty headspace Natasha managed to ease you into every so often, and pride swelled in her chest knowing you were comfortable enough to allow her the privilege of not only seeing you this way, but making you this way.

“Ten bucks says she doesn’t leave your side tomorrow.” Natasha had hummed softly once she was sure you were asleep, only half dressed in the pajamas she had pulled out of the dresser for you. The shorts on your legs were a pair of hers, but you had been adamant against her putting the t-shirt on your body when you realized it entailed pulling away from Wanda’s chest.

Wanda rolled her eyes, though there was a fond smile on her lips that gave away her true feelings about this shift in your dynamic. Not perfect, but getting there. “I’m not making a deal, I know I’ll lose, Romanoff.”

“It’s Maximoff. Or did you forget?” Natasha quirked an auburn eyebrow, mirroring the expression Wanda had mastered after years of practice. She leaned over your body, careful not to jostle you too much and rouse you from slumber, and she kissed her wide softly, though the taste of your arousal still clung to her taste buds, and when Wanda realized, she shoved her away.

“If you keep kissing me when you taste like her I’ll never be taken seriously again.” The Sokovian warned, already addicted to the taste of your arousal, though she took punishment seriously, and it wouldn't be until the early afternoon settled overtop of Westview tomorrow when you found out just how good she is with her tongue.

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grugruel · 1 year ago

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Wicked Game

Pairings: cop!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: An out of control college party gets crashed by cops, someone tattled, and a cop chase ensues.

The chief is an old friend of your family, who you'd always had a crush on.

Thinking he's harmless, you talk back. But he can only hold back for so long.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: reader is 20, pinv sex, rough sex, oral sex (m and f recieving), choking, uniform kink, sir kink, reader being bratty, bucky doing something about it!! edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, handjob, fingering, pet names (girl, doll), praise (yay), mentions of masturbation, slight marking, degrading ish? cum eating, creampie, power dynamic, some soft!bucky at the end.

AN: This is not a Lee bodecker fic! This is just regular, muscly cop!bucky.

Blaring music and thumping bass fill an already crowded house, drunk daredevils otherwise inhabiting it.

God, my skull feels like it's about the cave in. The average college experience in other words.

I'd been drinking the least out of my friends, yet I felt the worst. They sat on the couch around me, trying the wide assortment of drugs that were splayed out in front of us. Littering the table along with various hard liqour bottles, all mostly empty.

Drugs arent my forte, but I wont nark them.

The party had only been going for an hour or so, I think? My lockscreen told me it was 2 in the night, holy shit? It had been 5 hours.

How the hell had no one called the cops yet? Little did I know, how badly I jinxed myself.

'Guys, Guys.' I lazily shrugged the shoulders of two of my friends sitting on each side of me, 'We- we, gotta go.'

'We're fine!' One of them drawled, splaying out on the couch.

I shook my head, head thumping in each bend, 'Theres literally. . .' I paused, searching tiredly for the right words, 'Uhm- No way! That the cops arent on their way here like, right now.'

'We've lasted this long.' The other said, shrugging his shoulders, grinning.

I groaned, 'Fine!' And threw my hands up in defeat, my friend observed me smugly. He held up some coke for me, raising his brows in question. To which I shook my head again.

A sharp alarm cut through the music, everyone groaned, heads complaining at the sound. I figured it was something with the sound system, but no.

I just had to jinx myself, remember?

As my ears adjusted to the sound, I realised. It's sirens, two or three. Cops.

'It's the fucking cops!' I shouted, alerting everyone. The music cut off, and the sirens clarified into the deafening sound of jail, or curfew. Depending on the cop. I was hoping and dreading the Chief in equal amounts, he could take it easy on me, or not.

I roused my friends, dragging them up from the couch and filtering them through the backdoor. Along with at least a hundred other people our age.

My attempts at freeing them had made me lag behind, one of my friends grabbed my arm, 'Come on!' She shouts, trying to pull me with them. But theres to many people between us and she loses her grip, swept away by the crowd.

The front door swings open behind me, and I freeze. Slowly turning around, I see a tall, broad shouldered figure standing silently observing the chaos from the doorway. He stepped inside, searching the crowd, and eventually. His eyes land on me.

'Give em' hell. Get the ones you can!' He barks the orders at his men, and then his eyes narrow in on me. Staring me down, 'And leave this one to me.' His words make my skin crawl, in fear of my parents finding out and possibly, excitement?

I wouldn't say no to punishment dealt by Chief Barnes.

His men rush past me out the backdoor, leading me to back up slowly. Placing the Coffee table between me and the Chief, securing myself somewhat.

Slowly, he stalks forward. A slanted smile growing with every step that he takes, making chills run up my spine. His uniform does him good I notice, shirt and pants sitting around his muscles perfectly. Belt and gun? Hot.

'Heeey, Buck.' I smile cheapishly, 'Fancy meeting you here.' Testing the waters, seeing what chances my charms have of easing the situation for myself.

He nods, raising his eyebrows in response and grins in spite, as if answering, "I'm sure it is" and "You're in deep fuckin shit now."

I laugh nervously and try again, 'I didn't know you enjoy college parties Buck? Or just, college girls?'

Amused, he steps closer, It's now only the table separating us. I step up on the couch behind me, desperately trying to make up for the space I'm losing. He puts his hands around his belt buckle, smirking. At least my incredibly funny self seems to have softened him.

He looks down, studying its content, then looks back up at me. His face turns displeased, undoing all my previous hard work to humour him.

I follow his gaze, looking at the table myself, and it dawns on me, 'No no no no!' I throw out in panic, 'Listen, Buck. . .'

'What could you possibly have to say-' he began and lowered his head, giving me a serious look, 'To get yourself out of this one?' referring to the table.

'I can think of a few things, I might have an ace in my sleeve.' I smirk. Metaphoricly speaking of course, my blouse does not have long sleeves.

He takes a firm step closer, a bemused look on his face, 'Ok Ok! It's not mine! It's not, mine.' I gesture to myself, then to the table in erratic motions. 'I'm an innocent bystander, I just sat on the couch. Never even touched the stuff.' I hold my hands up, palms out. As if it would stop him.

'Theres nothing innocent about you girl.' He tells me sternly, the corner of his lip tugging.

Stunned, there's a sudden flutter in my stumache.

Suddenly, the energy between us change. The tension grows and the look in his eyes turn hungry, like a hunter watching its prey.

'Pinky promise?' I ask, shrugging cheapishly.

He takes a few quick steps toward me, rounding the table. But I run to the end of the couch, making sure that the table is still between us. Butterflies surge through my body, giddy from excitement. This is the most fun I'd had all night. 'Buck, let's- lets be civil about this, alright? Let's just talk.' I giggle.

He chuckles, 'Oh, you think this is funny?'

Nodding, 'Kind of, yes. . .' I tease.

'We're far past talking.' He breathes, 'Had I been anyone else, had I not known your parents, you would've been in cuffs by now.'

My eyes turn mischievous, 'Whats stopping you?' I tilt my head, 'I assure you, I wouldn't mind.' And grin.

He chews the inside of his cheek, then charges, and I run, swivelling to avoid solo cups and various balloons on the floor. I hear his footsteps behind me, catching up. My agility is nothing compared to his raw muscle and speed, but I swerve into the kitchen, adrenaline kicking in. And manage to take cover behind the kitchen island.

Bucky grinds to a halt, slamming his palms into the counter, catching himself against it. Once again, im in safety. For a while at least.

'Youre gonna have to be faster than that.' I pant, grinning. He meets my eyes, pure animalistic tendencies behind them. The look on his face has me biting my lip, I couldn't wait for him to catch me. 'C'mon Chief.' I purr.

And somethings in his eyes ignite at the word, oh?

'Chief?' I test and he grunts, eyes glaring at me through his eyebrows. Naturally, I delve deeper, 'You feeling quite alright. . . Sir?'

He tilts his head with a jerk, then laughs 'You've done it now.' Those are warning words. Then he jumps, sliding over the counter.

'Holy shit!' I squeek as I take of running, narrowly avoiding his grasp. I run through the house with Bucky right on my heels, nothing but the the thrill of the chase keeping me going.

I run out by the backdoor, then stupidly enough, take a right. Into a garden, a fenced in garden. The high type of fence too. I regret my decision the second I see notice it, but its to late. Buckys steps slow behind me, and I slow to a stop myself as I come face to face with a dead-end. 'Oh, fuck me.' I breathe, absolutely exhausted.

'Famous last words, doll.' He cuckles between pants.

I turn around and smile through the pain, 'Ha ha! Funny guy. What. A funny. Guy.' I clench my teeth, sighing.

My eyes lock onto his frame, hands on his hips as he's catching his breath. Mesmerized I stare, men in uniform, huh? Im starting to see the appeal.

Slowly, he begins walking toward me, prowling like a tiger. He grabs hold of his belt, pulling it upward to adjust his pants.

God damn.

My uterus is aching, my entire body is aching. I would've drooled if I hadnt come to my senses, escaping. Right.

I make a break for it. In one quick motion, I turn around and jump. Grabbing hold of the upper ledge of the fence and pull myself up, my feet scrambling against the wood to find some sort of purchase. But im too slow, too focused. I didn't even hear him come up behind me, but I did feel his big hands on my waist.

He yanks me down and pushes me toward the fence, his body flush against my back. I gasp and he digs his fingertips into my waist, making sure I don't escape again. His touch makes me yearn for more, I want it deeper.

He levels his head with mine, leaning in close to my ear. Close enough to feel his hot breathing against the skin on my neck, 'I got you now.' He whispers, making my skin prickle with goosebumps and setting of a pulse deep below my stumache. But I wasn't willing to give up just yet. With my hands free, I pry his own from my waist and turn around, pushing him back by the chest.

Now. . . The intention was to push him hard enough to give me space to run past, but. . .

He barely budged, he grabbed my wrists and pushed me back against the fence, pinning my body between the wood and himself. Wrists in hand, he anchored my arms to my sides by grabbing onto the fabric of my skirt. Rouching it, he helt the flesh of my ass under his fingers.

I laugh nervously, 'You're not gonna tell mom and dad are you?'

He just chuckles, fuck im truly, in deep shit.

I try wriggling free from his grip, but he holds my wrists tighter, carefully slamming them into the fence above my head and leans against me. Leaving zero space for me to move, every curve of our bodies complete the others, I swear I can feel his bulge against my hip. He moves his face closer to mine, needing me to crane my neck upward to meet his eyes. When I do, a self-satisfied smile covers his lips. His face inches from my own, we were basically sharing one breath as his lips barely brush over mine. 'You gonna be a good girl for me and behave?' He asks, breathing heavily.

I whine, he can't possibly turn me on more. 'Depends.' I say.

''Yeah?' He practically whimpers.

I close the distance between our lips, but he pulls back and smiles, teasing me. I meet his eyes and we look at eachother intently, as if entranced, I cant break contact.

He lets go of my wrists and traces his hands down my arms, all the way down to my hands. Chills run amock over my body, I close my eyes and lean in again, but suddenly-

I hear a clasp, then another and I can just feel him smirk against me. My eyes go wide and I realise, 'You didn't.' glaring at him.

'I did.' He laughs, 'What made you think you were in a position to negotiate?'

I look down and sure enough, cuffs bind my wrists together. Shocked, my mouth falls open. I didnt even feel him reach for them.

He backs up and grabs my arm, pulling me with him. 'Could you at least let me off around the corner from our house?' I ask as we make our way toward his car, he glaces down at me but doesnt answer, 'So they dont see me get dropped off in a cruiser, you know?' He opens the front door for me, and helps me inside, 'And maybe avoid talking to them for a few weeks, you'd really be doing me a favor, Buck.' And without a word, he closes the door and walks around to his side. Getting in and driving off.

The first portion of the ride is silent, he'd done what he had to, to catch me. Damn.

Luckily for me though, the party was a long way from home. Meaning I have some time to devise a plan.

I look at my cuffs, carefully observing them. Hmm. . . I yank my hands apart, trying the strength of the schackles, hoping the sound would gather his attention.

This was a game of chance, a game of seduction and persuasion.

Gently, I tickle the skin on my upper knee, 'I really didnt do any drugs y'know.' tracing back and forth with my fingertips, acting somber. Then lay my hand flat against my thigh, squeezing it absentmindedly. Continuing with rubbing small, firm circles with my index finger into my skin and turn to look out of the window.

Bucky clears his throat. The reaction I was looking for, perfect.

I spread my legs slightly, letting my hands slide down either side of my thigh. Clasping them together underneath and slide them up along my thigh. The skirt catching on my cuffs, revealing more and more of my-

-his hand flies to my thigh, hooking the cuff over his thumb and squeezing my flesh. Keeping me from showing anything more. Fuck, my core is throbbing from that alone.

'Buck?' I ask innocently.

'Dont' he croaks, voice sounding pained.

'Sorry-' I pause, glancing at him carefully. His eyes are fixed sternly on the road, 'We could talk about this like adults you know, make a deal.' He squeezes my thigh harder, I lift one hand with the restricted movements of my cuffs and caress his fingertips, 'A real good deal, benefitial for the both of us' I suggest.

'You talk too much for your own good, girl.'

'I'm not quite sure what you mean, Sir?. .' I bite my lip as he looks over at me, meeting my eyes through my lashes. 'You wouldn't tell on me to my parents, would you?' I ask, giving him my best puppy eyes.

He looks away, sitting silently until the next exit comes up. He flashes his indicators and turn off the main road, parking in an empty clearing.

'You want a deal, doll?' He asks, looking straight ahead. Sliding the cuffs off his thumb as his hand travel downward, fingertips sliding under my skirt, knuckles brushing over my clothed clit. Lust flashes through my nerves, and I gasp.

'A deal, or you. Both sound good to me.' I whisper, on the edge of my seat. Eagerly awaiting his answer, waiting for him.

He looks back at me, meeting my eyes with a fiendish grin, 'Then put that big mouth of yours to use.' He orders.

Nodding enthusatically, I lean over. Unbuckling his belt and zip down his pants, I reach into his boxers and fuuuuck, my hands barely fit around him. I pull him out and pull my hands to my mouth, wetting my fingers before returning them. One hand carefully stroking small circles around his tip, while the other strokes him up and down in cylindrical motions along his shaft.

The chief of police bites his lip, muffling a whimper as I move faster, 'Uhh- mmm. .' He hums, 'Yes- yes, doll. Fuck. .' He stutters.

Such a strong man crumbling under the touch of a woman, it was turning me on like nothing ever has, the power I hold is surprising.

His fingers move under my panties and slide along my slit, making it my turn to moan. I Buck my hips to give him better access, and he dips his fingers inside me. Pumping them slowly as he's getting them wet, then slides up to my clit, circling around it. 'Holy-' I gasp, 'Shit.'

We buck our hips to the others touch, leaning against the other, shoulder to shoulder, temple to temple. Moaning breathely. Our lips finally meeting in a needy kiss, tounges moving with the rhythm of our bodies. 'Please, doll. Be a good girl.' He begs between our lips.

Fuck me, that heartbeat in my utherus spread in pulses through out my entire body.

I grin and pull back. Leaning over, I carefully lick the leaking cum off his tip clean, then take him in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his head, licking greedily. Tasting the salt of him. I push deeper, sucking his length into my mouth. The sloppy sounds of saliva and lips were vulgar inte the most intoxicating way. His hand continues massaging my clit while the other snakes into my hair, grabbing a fistful and aiding my movements. Helping me set merciless pace.

Bucky groans, our strokes growing in greed as we close in on our releases. He shoves two big fingers into my core, curling at just the right spot. Pleasure surge through me, leaving me to stuff my throat with his member, muffling a scream as I topple over the edge. I feel him come right after, my mouth filling with his seed and hearing his moan of completion. The bitterness of salt waa overwhelming to my tastebuds, I swallow what I can and pull myself off.

Leaving a sloppy mess around my mouth, I sit back and smile. Breathing heavily as I regain my strength, Bucky looks at me and laughs, 'You got something right here.' gesturing circles around his mouth, reffering to mine. I wide my mouth clean with my thumb and suck it off, Bucky smiles proudly at the sight. Then brings his own fingers to his mouth, sucking my juices off of them.

Heat ignites within me once again.

Bucky cups my face with one hand and pulls me into a kiss. The tastes of eachother mixing, I can't quite tell what is what. But it's wonderful. Bucky pulls free and looks at me, I give him a hazy, expectant look. He strokes my cheek with his thumb and slides out of the car, walking around to my side. I furrow my eyebrows as he helps me out of the passenger seat. He pulls me to the hood of the car, pushing himself against me until the back of my legs hit the grill. He leans in and whispers against my ear, 'Still need to punish ya.' He drawls, a shiver running through my spine.

'Im begging you Chief.' I look at him thtough hooded, lustfilled eyes, 'Please punish me.' I groan, smiling.

His dick twitched at the word, making him close his eyes to keep his composure. Then suddenly bends down and finds purchase under my knees. In one swift motion, he pulls, and I fall back onto the hood, 'Wanting it defeats the purpose, doll.' He growls, then opens his eyes. But the sight before him makes him unravel.

Upperbody bent to the side in an effort to prop myself up on my forearms, thanks to my cuffs. Skirt over my hips and legs spread, core exposed and ready for him.

'Do you worst, please. Sir. . .' I whisper and grin.

His eyes snap to mine, and that "You're in for it now.' Expression returns, 'Fuckin brat.' He spits.

Then, he kneels. He fuckin kneels. A shiver runs up my spine a the sight, 'Some punishment, huh?' I ask, but he only smirks. Hooking my legs over his shoulders, and grabbing each thigh to keep them spread, then, without warning, he dives in.

I bite my cheek to stop myself from screaming, pulses of pleasure run through me like electric currents. He pushes his tongue inside me, feverishly licking at my juices, exploring my walls, burrying his face in my cunt. Nose pushing up against my clit, making my back arch deliciously. 'That all you can do?' I tease, grinding my hips against his nose, desperate to get some friction. But his eyes meet mine, glaring as he moves his hands to my hips, holding me steady.

He pulls back for a second, just to spit on my cunt, then hastily returning, chasing my clit. I gasp, burrying my cuffed hands in his hair, pulling him closer as I want more. Making him moan against me, his voice vibrating against my clit. My sight blurs from the pleasure, a knot tightening inside me 'More.' I beg, 'So close.'

His tongue slide out of me, and I whine. But he licks a stipe up my cunt and then attatches at my clit, sucking and nipping at my sensitivity. My body jolts, and I shut my eyes. 'You gonna cum?' He asks, voice muffled.

I can barely answer, pleasure overwhelming me as white specks my vision, 'Ye- yeah. . ' I moan, 'So close, ju- just like th-' I begin, about to reach my climax again, but suddenly.

He let's go, pushing himself off of my clit with on last lick and sits back on his heels, watching my unravel.

'No, please, Buck.' I squrim, whining at the loss of him. I try to pull him back, but he doesn't budge. 'I'm begging, please, please.' I whimper, closing my legs and pushing them together, moving my hips for any sort of friction to finish what he started.

'Mouthy brats dont get to cum.' He chuckles and grab my knees to pull them apart. I feel a tear roll down my cheek as the knot loosens again. In a last desperate effort, I pull my hands from his hair, burrying two fingers in me while my thumb rubs my clit. Just for a second, that exctatic feeling returns, blissful sparks ignite, until- he pushes his body between my legs to keep my thighs in place and grab my wrists, ripping them from my cunt. Then laughs, he laughs.

'Not funny.' I whimper.

'It is. . . Im not done even done yet.' He says, face glistening with my juices.

I fall back against the hood groaning, as the ache in my core reaches my bones. 'I need you so bad.' I whisper.

'What was that?' He asks.

'I need you. Buck please.' I whimper.

'Can't quite hear you, doll.' He mocks, hands squeezing tighter around my wrists.

'I fuckin need you inside me, ok?' I almost shout, 'Fuck me, hard. I'm begging, jus- just need you in me.'

'Yeah?' He laughs, standing up. Hooking his hands under my knees and slide me closer to him. His hand trace my skin to my waist, getting a tight grib. Then, in one smooth motion, he flips me to my stumache.

I can't help but gasp, 'Think you can act like a brat all night, and get away with it?' He asks, smaking my ass once. I yelp, the sting making my eyes water in the most delicious way. He lines himself up with my entrance, pushing on it slightly. His tip breeching.

'Please.' I whimper, muttering a string of curses. And without warning, he shoves himself inside. Again, I bite my cheek. Pleasure rolls through me, electrocuting every nerve. He grabs my hips, sinking his fingertips deep into my skin. Silently, I beg for them to leave bruises. Theres nothing hotter than a souvenir to remember him by.

He sets a hard pace, thrusting deeply. Pulling back almost all the way before forcefully pushing himself inside again, over and over. My brain doesnt function, I can't form words, all I can do is moan. The sound of slapping skin perfectly lewd in my ear. 'Harder Buck.' I request.

He leans down, grabbing my throat and pulling me flush against his chest, pushing his nose into my cheek, 'Yeah? This not enough for you?' He asks, grunting in my ear.

'Not enough, more.' I mewl.

His hand tightens his grip around my throat, cutting off just enough air to give me a dizzying euphoria. His other hands come down on my ass again, smacking hard as he thrusts deeper. Then re-grips your hip, using it to push and pull your, making our bodies come together even harder, 'Greedy girl, cant fuckn get enough huh?' He groans between breaths, hot against your skin.

I shake my head, the only answer I can manage as I feel my walls twitching, closing around him. He can feel it too, his hips stutter, throwing his thrusts of balance. He bites my ear, lightly tugging on it before kissing my cheek gently, then kissing down my neck.

A stark contrast to the rest of his movements, it's enough to make my head spin. It's almost too much. I feel the blinding pleasure threatening to spill inside me, 'You wanna cum girl?' He asks against the crook of my neck. I nod my head enthusiastically. 'Words doll, use your words.' He breathes.

'Ye- Yes, please.' I manage, 'Wanna cum so fucking bad, Chief.'

He grunts, hand slipping from my throat to my breasts, working them roughly. Palming, squeezing, pinching 'C'mon, cum for me doll.' He says between pants and immidietly, I topple over the edge. Pleasure blinding me as he continues thrusting, continues to assault my breasts. My body begins spasming, and my knees go week, 'Bucky. . . Fuck-' I groan, but he holds me up. All my senses feel like they're about to burst as he prolongs my orgasm, stretching it out in an exhuastingly wonderful way. He bites down on my shoulder, squeezing my breasts, muffled grunts escaping him as his own body spasms and his thrusts halt, his member finally filling me with seed.

He collapses on top of me as we catch our breaths, im so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.

I close my eyes for a second, but doesnt register Bucky pushing himself off of me, or him gathering me in his arms and laying me in the backseat. I don't feel him wrap his jacket around me, or the ride home.

But I do rouse from my sleep as Bucky carries me into my room and lays me down in my bed, he kisses me on the forehead, 'Hey doll.' He whispers, a soft smile on his lips.

I panic slightly as I realise that I'm home, 'Mom n' dad?' I ask anxiously.

'I made a good excuse, don't worry.' He strokes some hair from my face, 'Sleep. You need it. I'll go easier on you next time.' He promises.

'Next time?' I ask, a tired smile covering my face.

'Next time.' He assures, and you drift back to sleep. He stands up and walks to the doorway, silently watching you with admiring eyes as he carefully closes the door.

He tells your parents a made up backstory and they understand, happy to see him. They invite him to dinner next weekend and he happily accepts, he'd do anything to see you again.

He thinks about you the entire car ride home, in the shower as he beats himself off and in the morning as he wakes up with a hard on from dreams off you clenching around him.

He can do nothing but count the days until he sees you again, guranteeing himself it will be a memorable occasion.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky fanfiction

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xoluvx · 17 days ago

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countdown; b.eilish 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚊𝚢 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝

'just don't eat them without me'

the words replayed in her head as she approached the advent calendar. the same one you'd been using for at least two years now. you filled it with chocolates and candies and little treats you thought she'd might like, but this year you'd been very particular about your instructions. she wasn't allowed to open it without you present and she had to wait until the end of the day.

so while you'd been taking a shower and the rain was roaring outside, droplets splashing on the window, she headed to the calendar for a sweet treat. she'd have a whole speech ready for you later, but right now she was weak. she placed the small chocolate on her tongue. letting it dissolve on her buds. creamy and sweet and everything she was craving in that moment. her eyelids even fluttered as it coated her tongue. she even wiped the corner of her mouth as she walked up the stairs to wait for you in the room.

it had to have been the longest shower you'd taken, she'd come to that conclusion as she laid in bed waiting for you. the water wasn't running and you were probably just doing your after-shower care routine, but she was growing impatient. she even moaned and moved her hips on the bed when she picked up her phone and saw the picture of you on her lockscreen. her phone told her you'd been in there for almost an hour and her throbbing pussy told her she needed you right this second.

she was going to search for you when you slipped out of the bathroom, your shirt big and your legs bare, she growled. she full on growled and pounced like a dog in heat. her hands were on your body in seconds. fingertips gripping your waist. lips brushing along your neck. you gasped, but allowed her to kiss your neck. her hands ran down to your ass. gripping and slapping and pulling until you were stumbling and falling onto her body.

you straddled her waist, gripping her chin forcing her to look at you. her eyes were wild. brows almost furrowed. frustration written on her face. a pout on her lips and just the smallest tiniest whimpering sounds were escaping from her body. the realization hit you then.

"you had something from the calendar without me, didn't you?" you exclaimed letting your hand fall down to her neck. she didn't say anything, but her lips parted knowing she'd been caught and there was no way out of this. "answer me," you demanded through gritted teeth tightening the grip around her neck as she inhaled shakily; nodding her head.

"which one?" you asked as your thumb pressed against her throat gently. you felt her ragged breathing under your fingertips urging her to confess.

"eleven," she responded nervously. the whole interaction was only making her hungrier. the way you gripped her neck was driving her mad. when you moved only slightly, it made her pussy throb harder. at one point her hips were moving and you were moving with her without trying. she gripped your waist bringing you down on her pelvis as she thrust. you quickly stopped her. your hand fisting her hair as she cried out ecstatically. you looked her directly in the eyes shaking your head with a devilish look.

"you disobeyed me, billie" you teased pulling on her hair again when she bit her lip. "think i'll have to punish you," you smirked as your voice trailed off and her eyelids fluttered with the promise of a punishment. she was moving her hips again. frowning when you got off her. you pushed her back and she hit the bed making a small noise. her thighs parted as you shook your head.

it took you seconds to pull down her bottoms and discard them on the floor. seconds for her to pull off her shirt half haphazardly raising her chest, nipples hard already. she was a mouthwatering sight. slithering on the bed so desperate for something. anything. she craved it. no, she needed it. the heat radiated through her body. it was especially hot on her clit. it tingled and twinged as your face inched closer to her pussy. you licked your lips and she moaned gripping the sheets.

you lips hovered over her pussy as you breathed softly on her cunt. she was begging. the same words spilled from her tongue over and over until you were parting her pussy with your fingers, pressing your flat tongue on her warm dripping cunt. her whimpers transformed into cries as you moved your head side to side. your entire tongue covered her sensitive little clit as you pressed down on it and moved your tongue muscles along with the motions of your moving head.

you held her thigh back as it threatened to close, one hand still holding her pussy open. tongue still teasingly applying pressure. flicking when her breathing settled only spiking her temperature again. you rotated your tongue on her clit loving the way she cried out. the way her chest rose from the bed and her thighs quivered. the way she tried turning to the side so she could bury her face in something, but was rendered completely useless because both of your arms were now hooked under thighs holding her still.

"i need to cum," she managed to speak coherently for once as she looked down at you through hooded eyelids. her eyes were watering. her bottom lip red and dented with teeth marks. you shook your head tongue moving with you before dipping into her pussy. she cried out and held her breath as you fucked her; bringing her so close to the edge but there was no where for her to hold on.

"please," she cried softly placing her hands on her belly. digging her fingers into her skin as she fell back arching her back while falling deeper into your tongue.

"no," you smiled before getting up and tapping her pussy with your hand; dropping her thighs as she gasped in disbelief.

"wait-" she fluttered her lids sitting up and slithering on the bed. she was still so hot. clit on fire. pussy throbbing. the hunger was insatiable. she still felt it in her bones. she needed you. she needed to cum. she needed to make you cum. she needed you in every position and every way. she was on her knees now crawling to you hold your waist before you could get away. her head was buried in your t-shirt begging you to fuck her. to let her fuck you. her teeth were sinking into the fabric catching your skin with it. you placed your hand on her head. fingers digging into her hair pulling her back. eyes still wild.

"i told you to wait for me, didn't i?" you echoed the words you'd recited when you first started the countdown.

"so now.. you can't cum until i do and-" you exclaimed smirked and pulling her hair letting the words sink in. she squirmed and pressed herself closer to you. her face lowering down to your pussy. mouth open. eyes big. "-you don't stop until i tell you."

billie's brows furrowed as your instructions sank in. she wanted to bite every surface of your body. she wanted to devour you. eat you alive. spit you out and swallow you again. you wanted her to count down all the ways she could make you cum. count down all the ways she could use her tongue and her fingers. see how she could contort your body in ways you didn't know were possible. you wanted to feel the same fire coursing through her body and set the bed in flames. it's not how you had planned it, but god was it heavenly and you couldn't imagine a better way to spend your rainy day.

masterlist

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish smut #diamas 2024

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simplyycherry · 10 months ago

Text

Since people still like my old Obey me headcanon posts, I decided to completely empty it out. I didn't have the motivation to post more and also quit the game like since the beginning of Nightbringer.

If I add in the ones I posted before accidentally, then srry.

Lucifer ☕

Lucifer’s D.D.D Lock Screen is black but his homescreen is his brothers & Mc:)

• Lucifer has separation anxiety from us?

• Lucifer smells like hmm coffee, idk old cologne?

• Lucifer's head hurts sometimes.

• Lucifer cries at night.

• Lucifer's favorite movie genre is horror because he enjoys paranormal things ig.

• Every once in a while Lucifer will bond with his brothers doing what they like.

• Luci listens to Levi rant sometimes while he does work.

• Luci and Mc has matching necklaces.

• You can call Lucifer Luci when you're not in public together.

• Luci doesn't like PDA but when he is home alone he is very cuddly.

• To Lucifer Mc is the most important thing in his life along with his brothers.

• When Lucifer‘s excited or worried and he‘s alone in his room, he actually jumps around and does a lot a different facial expressions.

• Luci sometimes not all the time but sometimes just randomly pokes his brothers and walks away.

• Lucifer leans on the table with both arms and like his shoulders slightly up iykwim.

• When We Came Back To Devildom Again, You Know How Lucifer “Wasn’t Antsy�� I Bet He Was Squealing Inside, “OMDTHEYREBACKOHMYIGETTOHUGTHEMANDLOVE”.

• Lucifer will hold your waist/pull you close when they see other attractive demons walk by to make it seem like "you're theirs".

• Luci has a photo album of him and his brothers & Mc in his desk so whenever he gets stressed out he looks through it and it helps him relax.

• Lucifer often asks his brothers or Mc to talk about their interests while he works.

• Lucifer's way to relax is to make origami he's particularly good at it.

• Lucifer always keeps a photo of his brothers and Mc with him.

• Lucifer uses the excuse of " punishing Mammon" to spend time with him.

• Luci feels a sense of security when Mc's is on his lap. In some way he believes that as long as he has a comfortable hand around your waist, nothing can take you from him.

• If you drink coffee or tea in the morning Luci would try to make it for you.

• Luci is right handed but can write well with left hand.

• If lucifer catches you looking at a certain sweets or items he would by it for you just to you happy.

• Luci adores it when you fall asleep near him or knowing he’s in the house/room. It shows you trust being that vulnerable around him to keep you safe.

• When you are near Luci when he is working he will glance at you when your not looking.

• Luci plays fetch with Cerberus and cuddles with them.

• I feel like Luci would enjoy going to the human world with you and visiting your favorite tourist attractions.

• I like to think that when he does his little patrol, if he finds your still up Luci will make sure you get to bed. Sometimes even tucking you in.

• If anyone has Lucifer's phone his background and lockscreen will have a picture of you.

• Lucifer have a folder of pictures of you.

• Luci asks you to help him with work as an excuse to spend time with you.

• Luci melts when you bring him coffee :)

• Even though Luci stays up late, he makes sure that everyone goes to bed at a reasonable hour.

• Since Luci has records, he’ll buy vinyls of your favorite bands (even if he’s not a huge fan of them) to listen to with you.

• If you sleep with Luci, he keeps you in his arms the WHOLE night.There is no leaving.

• I feel like if you give Luci small gifts like random doodles he'd put a spell on it so its never damaged and keeps it forever.

• Luci loves to mumble a song while you sleep near him while playing with your hair.

• When Lucifer's drunk and you're nearby, expect to be covered in kisses. It's canon that he gets lovey dovey when he's drunk.

• Since Luci's the avatar of pride i feel like if he sees you admire someone else's skills he'll immediately try to one up them.

• Lucifer definitely enjoys playing board games with you in his spare time, but he always allows you to win because he’d feel guilty if he didn’t.

• Luci loves giving forehead kisses, or if he sees you sitting down as he’s walking by he’ll kiss the top of your head.

• If you fell asleep on the couch, Luci’d carry you to your room and tuck you in (doesn’t matter if ur heavy or not, he’s a demon, he’s stronggg)

• Lucifer takes off his gloves whenever you want to hold hands because he feels it more intimate ☝️& makes him feel close to you.

• I feel like lucifer throughout random times of the day just randomly gets up and starts looking for you because he really misses you.

• Lucifer sometimes let's MC and Levi go to the human world to get new Manga, games, and merch.

• Cerberus became somewhat fond of MC after they made their pact with Lucifer.

• Luci drapes his cloak over you when he finds you sleeping.

• Luci would softly knock twice on every door he goes through.

• Luci shortly meditates everyday to relieve stress.

• Lucifer quite enjoys human world beaches.

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rosyjn · 1 year ago

Note

Can I request Sam please?

Him had to go on a trip cause of work,

But you and him faught before going so he forbidden you from touching yourself meanwhile he was away.

But when he returns he finds you not only masturbating but even using sex toys!

He is mad, and he fucks her dumb as a punishment.

I like this idea anon ;) also READER IS USING HER ROSE TOY 🌹😭 NSFW CONTENT👇

Sam worthington x fem!reader

warnings: p n v, creampie, rough, spanking, use of sex toy, dirty talk, finger in mouth, implied oral, angst

You roll your eyes, leaning against the counter as Sam grabbed his suitcase- what a stupid fucking argument. The atmosphere is tense. You are huffing in annoyance.

“I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me-” you begin, throwing your arms in the air before beginning to walk away.

“I am going to be late,” he interrupts you, rolling the cuff on his white button-up. “And listen to me, no touching yourself.” he points a stern finger, his brows raising. Your face goes from annoyed to angrily confused.

“What are you-” you snap, stopping in your tracks. Sam looks down at the ground, then back up at your eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch yourself while I’m gone, you heard me.” With that, he lifts his luggage up and walks out the door. You gasp, still pissed with his behavior. He’s always been controlling, but now, you really don’t get it. You’re left standing in the foyer, watching him get in his car and drive off to the train station. Fuck, you never asked him how long he was going to be away. As his car pulls out of the driveway, you think of the words he said and the fight you had with him.

You cross your arms, still staring at the back of his car, getting smaller and smaller as he drives away. You are NOT about to call him. He could call you, maybe. Then, he can apologize. Until he does that, you guys will not be talking.

You’re queen petty, so you know you can’t let him win. That night, you sleep uneasily, before waking up with eye bags. It pisses you off- you know you would sleep better if you were curled up with Sam, but you’re not.

__________

Sam is in the back of a taxi, staring out the window. It’s been two days since he left. He is thinking of you. You’re so dramatic- so accusatory. But, he knew what he was doing when he told you not to masturbate.

He clicks the side button of his phone, turning it on to check for messages from you. There are none. Instead, he is flashed with his lockscreen and the time. 2:23, and a selfie of you and him at the beach, Your head is tucked into the crook of his neck in the photo, your face in a closed-eye smile and your skin being sun kissed. He was doing a cool guy face for the picture, looking like some type of action hero.

His eyes soften as he looks at the lock screen, for he is not looking at himself, only at you. He switches his phone off, looking back up at the window. The only positive thing about him being away is what he can do when he comes back. He already has a plan: he’ll come home, congratulate you for being such a good girl, then fuck you senseless until you’re begging for kisses from him. At that point, you’ll forgive him. The mind blowing sex will be his apology. He was never good at expressing emotions and he knows that. He tells himself that one day he’ll work at it. Either way, he’ll be back for you soon.

_________

You’re sweaty, panting from your workout. Your hair is tied to keep from getting in your face. You sigh, heading away to take a shower. You think, am I still mad? Your fingers loop in the band of your shorts, pulling them down and then stepping out. It’s already been two days. Two days, and no calls or texts. So yes, you are still mad. You sigh, lifting your bra off. I’ll get him back, you tell yourself.

_________

He’s coming back, he’s so excited to be coming back. At this point, guilt has hit him. He has a plan laid out. He’ll get on the train, take a nap to be energized for you, then he’ll run to a florist, then grab chocolate. It’s a perfect scheme. Sam scrolls through his camera roll, looking at all the pictures of you. He can’t get enough of that smile on your face, your sweet eyes, the life in your expressions- yet he can’t muster up the courage to call you.

________

You lay in bed, smelling like NIVEA and shea butter. You’re fresh, clean, and clad in pajamas, A skimpy tank top paired with shorts. You find yourself alone again, covered in a navy blue comforter. When is he coming back? You buck your hips back and forth, trying to get comfortable in bed.

With this squirming comes an unexpected friction on your clit. You continue these movements, until he comes to mind. Fuck him, that asshole. You reach over to your bedside drawer, quickly opening it and shuffling through the stuff in there. You move a TV remote, lip balm, lotion, and books away before seeing it: that box. You pick it up- a small, unopened box. It’s white, a rose on it.

It’s that goddamn rose toy. You had bought it before you met Sam, then found yourself never using it. You shake your head, tearing the plastic away from the box. You never used it because your man always had you covered, was always there to fuck you when you needed it. You open it, taking out a light pink silicone rose. You turn it around in your hands, marveling at the buttons and shape of the toy. You lean back on the pillow, before positioning the pistil, the suctioning part, onto your clit. You take a deep breath, then push down a button on the side of the rose.

You were not prepared for that. It uses focused, pulsing air to suck on your clit. You cry out, your moans only being heard by yourself. You feel like your soul is going to leave your body. It’s a powerful and intense sensation. You’re praying to yourself, blabbering and moaning as the image of Sam leaves your brain, filling it up with blind pleasure.

_______

He’s driving home, the smell of roses wafting through the car. He taps at his leg, listening to music. He can’t tell if he’s worried or excited to see you. Communication- he knows he should work on that. His plan replays in his head, and if it works, he’ll get lucky tonight.

When the car pulls up in the driveway, he doesn’t wait. He immediately parks, then grabs his luggage in one hand and the flowers in another, tucking the box of chocolate in his arm. He gets his house key, awkwardly opening the door because his hands are so full. He comes in silently, removing his shoes in the foyer to keep quiet. He creeps up the stairs, but a faint noise brushes past his ears.

His heart drops. It’s you- you’re moaning in the bedroom. Fuck, he knew he should’ve apologized. He listens closer, coming nearer to the noise. His brows furrow in confusion. No one else is making noise, and the bed isn’t shaking. Sam speeds up, stealthily heading for the door.

_______

You’re so engulfed in pleasure, everything else is blocked out. You’re coming ever-so-close to another orgasm. The rose sucks on your clit so deliciously, leaving your ears ringing and eyes squeezed shut.

“What did I tell ya?” a deep, husky, Australian voice croons from the doorway. What a bad time for your climax. You writhe in pleasure, unable to contain it. Your eyes shoot open, making eye contact with the figure.

“Sam!” you yelp, yanking the toy away from your heat and turning it off, then keeping it hidden under the blanket. It’s too late.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…” he shakes his head, dropping the items in his arms. “Gonna have to punish ya,” he begins to undress, eying you. He expects you to do the same, even though you’re only left in a skimpy tank top.

“I was-” you lay there, soaked and stunned. What are you even supposed to tell him? You slowly lift your top off, exposing your breasts.

“That’s it,” he smirks. You fold your arms, trying to think of a way to redeem yourself. “Y’know, you’ve been a bad girl. A bad, bad girl. You disobeyed me, with a toy as well.” he pushes away the last of his clothing, coming towards the bed. You uncross your arms now, instinctively leaning back for him. “Don’t ya have somethin’ to say?” he asks.

“I- I’m sorry,” you say, watching as Sam pulls the covers away to grab the toy. It’s now wet, with a drained battery. “Sorry, daddy.”

“You will throw this away, got it?” he looks at the rose with hatred. How could anything else ever please you? This gesture angers you.

“How could you be so jealous? Of a toy?” you scoff, the memories of your previous argument flooding back. “You’re insecure.” you hiss. At that moment, his eyes change. They fill with a mixture of pure lust and rage. He chucks the poor toy away.

“I’ll throw the damn thing away myself,” he manually spreads your legs, forcing them wide open. “Now, tell me you’re sorry, and you will mean it,” he growls, his hand reaching for the side of your ass. When his command is met with silence, he smacks your butt- hard.

“Fuck! I’m sorry! Goddamn!” you squirm, but he holds you in place.

“Little brat, makin’ it harder for yourself,” when he senses that you’re not really apologetic, just desperate, he takes matters into his own hands. “I’ll make you sorry, and I’ll make you mean it.”

He holds your hips in place, thrusting into your cunt. He penetrates you with his entire length, leaving you mewling and whining. He groans when he’s so deep, his balls press against you. Your poor pussy, already tired, is about to get ravaged.

His fingers dig deep into your plush skin, the nails poking you and leaving marks in your skin. Your hands find his shoulders when he begins to rut in and out of you at a merciless pace, You grip onto them. Your legs wrap around his body as well. Your walls, getting fucked raw and splattered white, pulse and clench around Sam.

A mix of guilt and pleasure shimmers in you. There was no foreplay, no kissing, none of that- there usually is. Of course, you didn’t need any, given you were already dripping wet. You shy away, flustered as your cunt makes apparent squelching noises. You swear you’re dizzy from his rapid motions, that you can see stars.

His tip tingles inside of you. From his point of view, he needs to teach you a lesson. He needs to show you that you were being a bad girl. He has the privilege of being able to fuck you senseless until you promise you won’t disobey him again. You look so pretty underneath him.

Your pussy is so warm, so wet, and so tight. Sam occasionally spanks your ass, to remind you that this sex isn’t a reward, but instead a punishment. When you whine and coo beneath him, he can’t help but feel a sense of pride.

“Gonna cum!” you exclaim, throwing your head back. At this point, your ass is already sore, littered with tingly spots from his slaps. His face twists into deep concentration, trying to speed up so he can release his load into you. You can already feel it: warm little drops of his seed squirting out onto your walls.

“Wanna have my kids drippin’ outta ya? Hmm?” he teases, grabbing your face with one hand and your breast with another. You make eye contact with him, overwhelmed by the feeling. He loves to see it, the way you melt for him.

“Yes, daddy!” you mewl, his thumb invading your mouth. You suck on it, like a good girl. When your orgasms finally hit, they hit like fucking trains. Sam is growling and huffing like a wolf, and you’re arching your back. Your walls clamp down on him, and it milks a few extra drops out of his cock.

You bite down lightly on his thumb, and in response, he pushes his cock deeper than it already is. When his tip kisses your cervix, you flinch and tears well up in your eyes. He pulls out painfully slowly, listening to the way your warm hole doesn’t want to let go of him.

A string of cum follows drips down your folds, and Sam’s cock is shiny with slick. You fall limp into the bed, catching your breath and sinking into the mattress.

“Open your mouth.” he says.

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reallysaneguy · 1 month ago

Text

So I have a Spider-Noir AU and I think it's pretty swell

so basically. yeah. Uhm. Well. So first off, I would like to mention that I was, in fact, in a manic episode when I got the idea. so you cant be mean to me. Look, I know this sounds crazy guys but PLEASE IT'S MY EVERYTHING

He's always been a really mad character. the first thing he did after getting his powers is go to kill goblin. So I figured, lets amp it up by 100. So now, unintentionally, I made him a mix of Punisher and Jigsaw. But he's cooler and more interesting because... uh... he's him? Yeah.

If you couldn't tell by the beautiful graphic, massive trigger warning. this gets graphic. like, REALLY gorey graphic. I don't know why nor how I got these ideas. but yeah. warning for that. No visuals, though

To start off, SCREW THE 2020 NOIR COMICS. THOSE ARE NOT HIM!!! THOSE ARE SO NOT HIM!!! THOSE ARE FAN SERVICE!!!! I am the fan though. That one panel with his double Ds is, in fact, my lockscreen. BUT THATS NOT THE POINT!!! the point is, it's a continuation of the 2009 comics. actually, it continues after Spider-Geddon. Because 2 can play the back from the dead game. Since it's a continuation, I beg of you to please read his comics. please. please oh my god they're so good. like oh my god. I have made a google slideshow about them. guys they are so full of tiny details I gen can't

So he's back after dying. I figured it can be the same way as the canon one. I'm not that creative. OBVIOUSLY some other canon parts have been changed, too. I'm bringing characters who def could have survived back, hence the ability to eat vulture back. which. is what we're doing. well, what he's doing. uhm.

Anyways, he's back from the dead. He rushes home to Aunt May just wanting a hug from her after everything he just went through. Unfortunately, when she sees him (after the initial disbelief) she looks at him with nothing but disgust for him.

So now he's homeless. But he has a cat. Because adding Ding-Ding was such an amazing move in the 2020 comics. So he basically just lives with this cat. He does, eventually, become a PI with his own little abode. Don't ask for more details. I don't know.

Well. Uhm. GUYS I'M SORRY. I HAD TO DO IT. I COULDN'T THINK OF A BETTER REASON TO LOSE YOUR SANITY. GUYS PLEASE I'M SO SORRY. IF YOU ARE ON TIKTOK, YOU MIGHT HAVE SEEN SOMETHING WITH IT, AND YOU BLAMED IT ON BENNY BOY. I'M SORRY. I'M THE ONE WHO DID IT. HE JUST DREW IT.

I killed the cat. Precious Ding-a-Ling is dead.

So he snaps. He's officially lost everything. Aunt May disowned him, Robbie is Robbie, and as of right now MJ is back to war or something. idk. maybe she can be dead too. yeah. MJ is also dead. THE POINT IS, HE HAS NOTHING NOW.

And now, the only thing that brings him any emotion, is after killing a bad person. So he hunts them down. It's like a drug. He has nothing left, so why not? It's not like he can die. At least he's helping people. But after a while, it's just not enough. These people deserve more than an easy way out. He slowly becomes more and more sadistic.

This is where the Vulture comes back. Who else is still alive? Goblin, Montana, Ox, Doc Ock, Shocker, and Mysterio. And since I was bored, Jonah and Felicia are part of this too. Yeah.

One of my beautiful (really shitty) drawings is based off "an eye for an eye", because that's what this is. Revenge. So here's some outcomes for those guys!

The Vulture: Blood eagle (because he needs wings, duh) and also eaten. He's also! Alive! yeah. Our silly guy knows anatomy. He knows what he can and can't do. (I watched midsommar)

The Goblin: His greatest fear is being locked up in a cage and mocked. So he's kept in a cage. And Since he always had others do his dirty work, it's his turn. He's gotta help clean up and help torture. Also, he's being experimented on. Because once again, Peter Parker is Peter Parker, and he is a nerd

Doc Ock: I originally was going to lobotomize him, but that's BORING!!! So he is now Swiss cheese. yeah. lots of holes drilled into him.

Shocker: Bennett actually came up with this one; electric chair, but he has to power it himself.

Mysterio: White room.

Uhm. I do have more, but this is already long and I don't want to bore you guys if you've read all this for some reason. But thank you if you did! I've actually worked really hard on this entire thing. There's a lot to it. So I hope you enjoyed this???

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heartbeatan · 2 years ago

Text

The Art of Revenge (Chapter 1)

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Jungkook Fanfictions.

Return to One Nights Series.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter 1

You were healthily addicted to your cell phone, the way most twenty-first centuriers were. It offered you safety, connection, entertainment, news, directions, and food delivery. You lived a pretty happy digital life. You avoided the toxic corners of social media, successfully skirted wasting money on fad product trends (well… success is a relative term…) and spent most of your time smiling at the hilarious memes posted by friends, rolling your eyes at your step-mother and future-mother-in-laws aggressive “wedding suggestions” emails, and squealing at the romantic and occasionally naughty texts from your fiancé.

Today, however, as you looked down at the black, cracked screen - your thumb hovering over the lock button - your pink-cased smartphone more so resembled a ticking time bomb, rather than a miniature computer.

You had turned the sounds and vibrations off days ago. The endless stream of notifications and phone calls since “it happened” had frayed your patience and your nerves. You couldn't stand to hear another “I’m here for you!” or “I’m sorry!” or “You should [insert unprompted advice]” without wanting to vomit. The only reason why you wanted to vomit was because the alternative was going to cost you several court appearances for attempted murder, vandalism, and arson - and you were reasonable enough to know that the bastards who already ruined your life weren’t worth ruining your future.

But, since vomiting only seemed like a self-punishing form of anger - and that didn’t seem fair either - you decided that you could channel your hate for the world in other ways.

That brought you to this moment: parked along the shoulder of a two-lane highway, flanked by old, tall trees, hours away from your civilization, staring down at your phone as you decided which crisis you were going to address first when you finally unlocked the screen.

You pressed your thumb and the screen lit up, prompting you for a password. You scrunched your nose as the lockscreen notification indicated that you had received another slew of text messages, notifications, emails and missed phone calls. A wiser person would have started blocking numbers and addresses - but you weren’t wiser… you were vindictive… and thus, you needed those numbers unblocked so that you could execute your plan accordingly.

You punched in your passcode, and immediately scoffed as you came face to face with your wallpaper. It was an engagement photo of you and your fiancé, hugging each other tightly, and beaming into the photo lens with bright smiles. Of all the photos that had been taken that session, this one wasn’t the best of the lot. The sun was hot and painfully bright, meaning neither of you could see. In fact, tears from trying to keep your eyes open had streaked your mascara. Chris - your fiancé - had also begun to sweat beneath his dress shirt, and the wind blew both your perfectly coiffed hairstyles out of place. But you remembered vividly how happy you had been when that photo was taken. Chris had made some ridiculous joke about life being about “as good as it sweats”, and although his puns were usually met with jeers and boos, you couldn’t help but fall into a fit of laughter. Life with him was always a bit corny, but fun as hell. He held you tight against him, and you pressed your cheeks together as you laughed stupidly towards the photographer.

You should have changed your wallpaper the moment you walked in on Chris, your fiancé, fucking your Maid of Honour, Stephanie. But you decided that, for now, you needed to be reminded of his face. You needed to remember why you were putting an obscenely high number of miles on your car. You needed the anger to flush your system and strip you of all trepidation. You needed your inhibitions gone, so you felt no remorse about fucking the man whom Stephanie called “the love of her life.”

Perhaps, we should back up…

Stephanie and yourself had been inseparable since middle school. She was your best friend, and you had remained loyaly at each other’s side through the chaos and mess of your formative years. University was the only thing that pulled you two apart - but, despite the time zone difference between your respective schools, you stayed in touch. That was when you first heard about Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook and Stephanie were in the same dormitories, shared friends, and even took the occasional class together. She was completely enamored by him from the very first moment they met. You remembered the phone call she made to you that very first day of school, and how brightly you smiled from the other end of the phone as she recounted how she had just met “the love of her life.” You were happy for her, and admittedly a bit jealous that her first college experience had been so monumentally more exceptional than yours. You considered yourself to be a social person, but your first week out of your small town, on the heels of breaking up with your highschool boyfriend, and amidst the bustle of a large, University City, you were feeling like a fish out of water, and worried about finding your place there. Fortunately, your fears were misplaced. You quickly established a core group of friends, and spent the next four years bonding, growing, learning, and partying like a rockstar. By the end of your undergrad, you couldn’t even remember the person you were before you had gone to school. Yet, Stephanie and yourself had still managed to stay close - even visiting each others’ campuses on occasion. That was how you met Jeon Jungkook.

The first time you saw him was at a small pre-drink gathering in Stephanie’s room. She, of course, wanted to take you out on the town and show you a good time. Show off the fabulous life she had cultivated for herself. You were looking forward to meeting him. By the way Stephanie had described Jungkook and their time together, you had assumed that something was happening between them… if they weren’t already in a relationship she hadn’t yet disclosed to you. But when you got there, you quickly became of the suspicion that the life long love Stephanie had found was likely one sided on her part. You empathized with her. You weren’t exactly the best at handling unrequited feelings - you had already gone through a bout of them with your own fellow classmate and temporary fuck buddy. Whereas you dealt with those feelings by talking them out with a pint of ice cream, Stephanie coped with denial and delusion. You wondered how she put up with it for so long. Your friend was beautiful, charming and, by the way the boys of her school tripped over themselves when they were around her, you were sure she could have easily found real, two-way love with the snap of her perfectly self-manicured nails. You wondered who the hell this Jungkook guy was, and what kind of asshole he could have been to not only have this hold over her, but also the audacity to reject her.

But the moment he walked into the party… you understood. He made your heart instantly thump, your mind whip through a reel of fantasies, and your nether regions pulse. He was gorgeous beyond belief. Thick ebony hair, a loose, black t-shirt that somehow was tight over his broad chest, an array of dainty tattoos dancing their way up his muscular arms, and a strong, squared jaw that emphasized both his boyish and masculine features. There was something insouciant about how he walked into a room, and the way he casually scanned the space around him. His dark and brooding aura instantly made you desperate for his attention.

You felt guilty for being even remotely attracted to him - but that guilt also made you completely understand your best friend's misleading banter. If you had to see that man everyday, you too would need to find a way to cope beyond the abilities of frozen sugar.

You met him a few times over the college years, and even several times afterwards, since Stephanie’s friend group stayed relatively in touch and she often invited you along. Jungkook and yourself, however, hadn’t shared many words between you throughout all those occasions. Whenever you were around, he didn’t talk often to Stephanie either, and you questioned if it was because of you, and that he didn’t like you very much. But, of the few times you did speak, he was cordial, still insouciant, and generally a decent person. You could easily describe him as an “artist.” A flower child with the air of James Dean. He had started his own graphic design business and was in high demand; he toured every summer with his indie-rock band; he made decent bank on paintings, photographs and graphic prints which he sold online; and, just because of course he could, also ran a tattoo and piercing salon out of his house.

You had only been to his home once. He had invited his college friends up for a long weekend, and you, of course, tagged along. You didn’t get much of a look inside his home, aside from the bathroom off the mudroom. The home was in the middle of the woods and had the outside appearance of a luxury cabin, but there certainly wasn’t enough room inside for all of you to sleep - so you stayed in tents sprawled across the lawn.

That was the weekend you met Chris. Stephanie had actually set up the meet-cute. He was the brother of one of Stephanie’s friend’s whom she had met once or twice - an unfortunate detail that would become relevant later.

That weekend, it felt as if all the stars were finally aligning. Chris and you clicked immediately, and you unashamedly spent the next four days attached at the hip, and those three total nights “sleeping” in his tent. Stephanie seemed to be finally getting what she wanted as well. She was at Jungkook’s side at every opportunity, and from behind your rose coloured glasses, you were sure something was finally going to happen between them.

Unfortunately, your newly love-drunk perspective was far from correct. Stephanie was in a foul mood the whole drive home. Apparently, she had finally mustered up enough courage to tell Jungkook that she loved him, and he had coldly shut down her advances. She even cried at one point, and you comforted her by dutifully calling him a blind asshole, and declaring that she deserved so much more than him.

After that trip, two years passed, and you were deeply in love with Chris, and Stephanie seemed to get over her Jungkook heartbreak. She respectfully got over him by getting under other lovers. The problem, however, was when she got under Chris. There weren’t many pertinent details to that revelation. You came home one day early from work, saw Stephanie’s car in your driveway and assumed she had been by to drop off a dress of yours she had borrowed for your bridal shower. When you stepped into the house, instead of finding a garment bag hanging neatly at your backdoor, you found her clothes strewn about the kitchen floor, and Chris pounding her over your pristine kitchen counters.

You left without saying a thing. You ignored their terrified cries and guilty apologies. Truly, you felt nothing in that moment. Just numb. You shut off your phone, drove five towns over, and held yourself up in a hotel room.

Inside that hotel room, you experience the intensity of every stage of grief.

Denial. You hadn’t seen what you had seen. This man who told you he loved you, who treated you right, who asked you to marry him - there was no way he was cheating on you.

Anger. Stephanie - the woman who was family to you. The girl who had been with you through thick and thin, who introduced you to your fiancé, whose mortgage you paid when she lost her job and needed time to find a new one, the one who held your hand at your mother’s funeral, the way you did at her father’s… Stephanie, would have the audacity to betray you in the most intimate way possible.

Bargaining. People make mistakes. Perhaps there was a good explanation they could give you - one that could convince you that this affair could be forgiven and forgotten, and everything could return to normal before the “mistake.”

Depression. Realizing you would need to leave Chris. Knowing that you lost a friend. Thinking about just how much physical, emotional and financial labour you were about to endure to pull apart your intrinsically tangled lives.

Acceptance. You were no longer engaged. Stephanie was no longer your friend. You were alone again.

Of all the stages and feelings you went through, anger was the one that ironically made you feel the best. So, upon acceptance of your fate, you returned to the anger stage, and began scheming your payback.

Chris was a pretty easy target. You were an accountant, and he was a fool. Nearly everything you owned together was in your name, since your credit was fabulous, and his looked like he had spent his retirement savings on crypto currency the day before the big crash. Long story short, the man would be homeless, carless, and broke by the time you spoke with him again.

Stephanie was a bit of a different story. You couldn’t get to her by destroying her financial life, and frankly, her social life would bounce back easily. Regardless, that wasn’t how you wanted to get back at her. Chris destroyed your collective life together, so you made him start over in every way possible. Stephanie, however, destroyed your heart. You needed her to feel the loss of love, the stab of feeling worthless, and the sting of betrayal. You needed her to hurt. You needed to take something away from her that she loved so dearly… but the only thing she had ever truly claimed to love (aside from you) was Jungkook.

You turned your phone back on, then went to the bathroom while the millions of notifications flooded your phone. When you returned, you cleared them all with one simple swipe of your finger, then opened up your social media folder.

You hadn’t had Jungkook as a friend on any of your socials, but you also knew he wasn’t much for personal social media to begin with. Regardless, you easily tracked down his business page, but grimaced to find his private messages closed. But there was a phone number…

You looked at the clock. It was nearly midnight. There was no way he kept office hours open until now. But, he was self-employed… so perhaps the phone number was also his personal?

You hovered over the number, seesawing between calling him, or waiting to call him during normal hours, until you nearly convinced yourself to not call him at all. As your feet got colder, you moved to close the phone and toss it across the room - but just before you did, another text message popped up on your screen.

Stephanie.

You once again seesawed between finally reading their messages, or putting the phone back on mute until you were ready to face what either of them had to say. But before you could consciously decide, your finger pressed the notification and the full message popped up on the screen.

It was less than an apology. Although she did start by saying she was sorry, the remaining five paragraphs were probably the most audacious things you could have ever imagine to have read from someone who was trying to apologize for fucking your fiancé. She pointed out that she had in fact met Chris first, and that there had always been a spark. She said that she had given him to you, because she felt you deserved happiness. She said that she felt she needed to stop putting the happiness of others ahead of herself. Then, with all the narcissistic, self-deluded frenemy energy she could muster, told you that if you were a good friend, you would be happy that she had finally found someone who respected her.

You clucked your teeth, now beyond the point of anger. In that moment, years of memories flooded your thoughts. Every backhanded compliment she had ever made to you, every crush of yours she had flirted with, every moment she flaked on you for someone else. They were small moments, and they were surpassed by a mountain of great moments, but you couldn’t help but wonder if they had been signs you had always ignored. Perhaps Stephanie was an objectively bad person, and perhaps you had been too blind to see it until now. Perhaps she was one of those people whose nastiness was subtle, and you were one of those people who gave others too many benefits of the doubt. Well… if provoked… you could be nasty too…

You closed the message, opened the phone app, and pressed “call.”

��Hello?”

Your nerves instantly flared the moment he answered.

“Hey, uh, Jungkook?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Y/N.”

“Hey,” he answered, although there was a clear hint of confusion in his voice.

“Stephanie’s friend. Chris’ fiancé, ” you elaborated, although saying those words tasted like acid.

“Yeah, I know. What’s up?”

You took in a deep, audible breath as you gathered the courage to power through what you wanted to say. Your shotgun plan was to engage in some sort of small talk at first, but in the end, what you were about to suggest wasn’t worth all the discomfort of trying to pretend as if the two of you were close.

“I have a humiliating favour to ask you – and it would be completely fair of you to think I’m insane, but, I’ve already been humiliated beyond belief today, so I’m hoping you’ll at least take pity on me because there really isn’t much further to go until I hit rock bottom.”

He paused for a second, and you could sense even more confusion radiating through the phone.

“Shoot,” he responded, casually bracing himself for what you were about to ask.

“You know, Stephanie has been in love with you since college. She still calls you the love of her life.”

He sighed. “No offense, but I’m really not interested in her, and she’s known that since college. And I’m getting really tired of her ploys to convince me otherwise.”

Interesting, you thought, picking up on how his voice grated when he spoke about her.

“I’m not calling to play matchmaker, Jungkook.”

“Good to know. What can I do for you then?”

“Well… today, I walked in on her and Chris, naked in my kitchen.”

“Shit,” he exclaimed, although something in his tone implied he wasn’t particularly surprised. You skipped past that thought, given that he was fairly indifferent 99% of the time. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

“Thanks. But I didn’t call for pity. My best friend had sex with the man I thought was the love of my life. I would like to return the favour.”

Once again, Jungkook went quiet, and even though it made your heart race and your cheeks heat, you let the silence hang so he had ample opportunity to work out exactly what you were implying. Then, with an even voice laced with intrigue, he asked, “What specifically do you want from me?”

“I want you to fuck me so God damn stupid that the next time I see her, I can’t walk straight.”

You heard a soft huff of a laugh come through the phone. But to your surprise, and to your excitement, there wasn’t much of a pause or hesitation before he gave you his answer.

“How soon can you get here?”

Go to Chapter 2.

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