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sabrinasopposite · 1 day ago

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imperfect for you.

pt. 3 of drinks or coffee / college!charlie baker x photographer!reader

my boy, come take my hand throw your guitar and your clothes in the back seat my love, they don't understand but I'll hold your hurt in the box here beside me

summary: after months of dating, its time for y/n to meet the baker family. yet charlie is a bit scared that y/n will see the chaotic, dozen of people in one house. will she still love him even though he was living in a imperfect home? of course she will.

Winter wraps itself around New York, weaving frost over windows and tucking laughter into scarves. The city glows—streetlights pooling golden halos onto rain-slicked sidewalks, store windows dressed in garlands and ribbons, the hum of holiday music slipping through every doorway. Y/N stands at the threshold of something new, something unfamiliar yet warm, as Charlie laces his fingers through hers and says, “Come home with me for Christmas.”

She hesitates, but only for a breath. Home. The word tastes like cinnamon and wood smoke when he says it.

So, she goes.

Charlie’s family is chaos incarnate.

The front door barely swings open before he is ambushed—small bodies colliding into him, voices overlapping, warmth pressing in from every direction. The house is alive, a living, breathing thing pulsing with energy, tangled in fairy lights and the scent of home-cooked meals.

Y/N watches, wide-eyed, as one of his younger siblings nearly topples a Christmas tree in an attempt to tackle Charlie, and another is running circles around the kitchen, holding a turkey baster like a sword. And within five minutes of stepping fully into the Baker household, she understands why.

“Charlie’s home!”

“And he brought a girl?”

“Everyone act normal—DON’T TACKLE HIM—”

But it’s too late. Three of his younger siblings have already thrown themselves at him, clinging to his legs, one of them scaling his back like a small, determined koala. A dog is barking somewhere. A toddler is crying. A rogue soccer ball goes flying past Y/N’s head.

Charlie groans. “Jesus Christ, guys.”

Charlie catches her glance, and his expression shifts—something between an apology and hesitation, as if he’s bracing for her to be overwhelmed, for her to see all of this and think too much, too loud, too wild. Y/N is still processing the sheer volume of the house, but she’s chuckling when someone yanks her forward and traps her in a surprisingly strong hug.

“You must be Y/N!” She blinks as she is pulled back at arm’s length, coming face-to-face with a girl who shares Charlie’s sharp jawline and mischievous eyes.

“I’m Lorraine, one of Charlie’s many sisters,” she says with a grin. “Come in, come in, don’t be shy—we don’t bite. Well, Kyle did once, but he’s been trained out of it.”

A ten-year-old across the room scowls. “That was one time!”

Charlie sighs heavily. “Y/N, this is my family. Family, this is Y/N. Now, let’s all behave like normal people for once in our lives.”

Dinner is a symphony of overlapping voices, dishes being passed in a rush, elbows knocking, laughter rising and spilling over like an overfilled glass. Charlie’s dad tries (and fails) to carve the turkey without making a mess, his mom keeps swatting away small hands that sneak rolls from the breadbasket, and someone is telling a story that no one is really listening to, but everyone is enjoying anyway.

“So, Y/N,” one of Charlie’s older sisters asks, grinning across the table. “How exactly did my brother, of all people, manage to date someone like you?”

Charlie groans, covering his face with one hand. “Oh my god. We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, we are doing this,” another sibling chimes in. “Because, come on, Charlie. We’ve seen your past choices.” “Beth,” someone coughs not-so-subtly.

Charlie shoots a glare across the table. “We do not need to bring up my ex right now.”

Y/N hides a smile behind her glass, watching as Charlie sinks lower in his chair, clearly regretting every decision that led to this moment.

“I don’t know,” she says, feigning deep thought. “I guess I just really like mechanics who secretly have a soft heart and buy their girlfriends cameras for no reason.”

There’s a collective aww from the table. Charlie turns bright red.

His mom sighs dramatically. “Finally, someone who actually likes him.”

Charlie throws his hands up. “Okay! That’s enough! This is my girlfriend, not my public humiliation tour.”

The table erupts in laughter. Y/N, watching the way his family teases him but loves him so effortlessly, just squeezes his hand beneath the table. He glances at her, and the frustration fades into something softer, something quieter. There’s a beat of silence. Then one of the younger kids asks, dead serious, “Charlie, what’s it like having a girlfriend? Like, what do you do?”

Y/N barely has time to stifle a laugh before Charlie groans. “Oh my god.”

“Oh yeah, we need to talk about this,” another sibling chimes in, leaning against the kitchen counter. “How did this happen? Who asked who out? Did Charlie say something dumb?”

“Probably,” someone else mutters.

Charlie drags a hand down his face. “Can we not do this right now?”

Y/N grins, propping her chin on her hand. “No, no, I’m actually curious. Please, continue.”

Lorraine smirks. “Okay, so here’s my theory: Y/N fell for him first, because look at him.” Charlie scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, you’re decent-looking, I guess,” she continues. “But let’s be real, it was probably one of those ��brooding mechanic with grease on his arms, pushing his hair back while fixing a car’ moments, right?” “Oh my god, shut up,” Charlie says with a groan.

Y/N, still laughing, the siblings start to join the theories like:

“I believe that Charlie magically poisoned her because, as if a beauty like her could fall for him.”

“I think Y/N wouldn’t fall for his stinky mechanic look—unless they match their freaks.”

“Or Charlie fell for Y/N first! Look at her, I mean… Maybe we need to save Y/N from Charlie!”

The table explodes with laughter as Charlie turns a shade of red previously unknown to mankind. Y/N chuckles but then places her hand on his arm. “Well, I always liked Charlie in my own way, but I met him at this super lame party. Yet he made it more interesting than I thought it would be—also, he asked me if we could go after the party to a coffee shop.” She smiles softly.

Charlie chuckles and nods. “Yeah, ever since then we’ve gone regularly to this coffee shop; it’s our thing now. Oh, and now I can do photography because of Y/N!”

The whole family falls silent because they’re in awe of the two of them. They continue to talk about the little dates or funny memories that Charlie and Y/N have collected over the months.

Later, when the meal is winding down and the warmth of the evening settles, Y/N leans close and

murmurs, “I think I like your family.”

Charlie huffs a small laugh, still looking sheepish. “They’re insane.”

“They’re you.” He opens his mouth, but before he can say something self-deprecating, she adds, “And at least I have plenty of brothers and sisters-in-law now.” He freezes. His ears go pink.

Y/N just smiles. She doesn’t press the moment, just lets it settle—a whispered promise in the space between their laughter. But later, when he’s cleaning the table and she passes by, he hooks a finger into her belt loop, tugging her close for half a second. No words, just the warmth of his touch, just his lips brushing her temple in the quiet acknowledgment that he heard her, that he felt the weight of what she meant.

That he wants it, too.

The stars are strung low in the sky when Charlie drives them out past the city limits, to where the snow lies untouched and the air smells like pine.

They park beneath an open stretch of sky, the windows fogging from the heat of their breath, and Charlie reaches for his guitar from the backseat.

“I didn’t know you played,” Y/N murmurs, tucking her chin onto her knees, watching him.

Charlie shrugs, hands skimming the strings. “I don’t… really. Not in front of people.” He strums a few chords, then glances at her with something hesitant, something vulnerable. “But I wanted to play for you.”

The first notes come tentative, like he’s testing the shape of the song against the silence. Then, as he finds the rhythm, he loses himself in it, fingers moving with a quiet confidence, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N watches, her heart catching somewhere between the melody and the way the soft light of the car dashboard paints him in gentle golds. She reaches for her camera, snapping a picture before she can think too much about it.

A moment caught. A memory pressed into permanence. When he finishes, the last notes fading into the hush of night, he sets the guitar aside and turns to her.

She doesn’t need him to say anything. She already knows.

Still, when he cups her face in his hands, when his lips meet hers—slow and deep and full of things unspoken—she melts into it like she belongs there.

“I love you,” he breathes against her mouth.

And Y/N, with winter curled around them and the whole universe narrowed to this moment, smiles into the kiss.

“I love you too, my love.”

💌: @blackynsupremacy @alelo23 @angelsgalore @collywobblvs @tvdelrey @tinainaction @seulgi-burgundy @floralscented @artyandink

p1 pt 2

#charlie baker x fem!reader #charlie baker x reader #cheaper by the dozen #charlie baker #charlie baker au #charlie baker fanfics #charlie baker fluff #drinks or coffee #tom welling #clark kent x reader #smallville x reader #clark kent fics #smallville #tom welling cheaper by the dozen #tom welling x reader

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ask-trashhunter · 2 days ago

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Ok folks!!! OOC post!! I have 16 Trash Hunter designs now, which means I should be able to run a bracket tournament that lines up pretty neatly! :D

First though I wanna introduce you to all the designs I've done so far!!

All of these have a unique name for voting purposes, but don't worry about remembering them all I'll show pictures of them every time!

Human Hunter 1

Starting off simple, this is Human Hunter 1! The OG, the classic, my pfp! Honestly I kinda rushed this design bc I made this blog on a whim, so I had to make the design super quick! I spent like a little over an hour on this, and I had only really spent 15 extra minutes beforehand thinking about their design, so that's around 1 and a half hour total...... Idk how long I spent on the others. Anyway, basically their top half is pretty human looking, EVERYTHING about them is as green as I managed to get it (green is Their Color to me) and then their bottom half is basically meant to just be a trashy sludge that sort of melts and merges with their landfill. It's hard to tell where the landfill starts and where Trash Hunter ends. Oh yeah- and I have like 3 drawings of them in this style, their skin tone varies a LOT between each drawing lol. um. you haven't seen. the third one btw haha. it's totally not of me and trash hunter holding hands why would you even say that

Human Hunter 2

Alright, this is my second "human" Trash Hunter design. I wasn't quite happy with my first one, so I wanted to change it to something more like this. However!! I never actually got to finish my design until I watched something that changed the way I thought forever. I finished this drawing just this monday actually, because I'd forgotten I had no finished drawing of Human Hunter 2. I want you to remember that giant grapply arm they have and those spider legs. Also, you'll notice there's a line next to them, and it says "Cop" under. That's how tall Copper would be (per my headcanons) next to the various Trash Hunter designs. They really vary in size. For reference, I headcanon Copper as 152 cm, or 5 feet. I'll add a size chart in at the end- they won't be 100% accurate to the pictures but it'll be in the same area at least.

Trashbag Hunter

Ok this. This is where my life changed. I watched the hodgepodge audio new year's patreon video and got friggen mentioned. Hi Raddagher if you're seeing this I'm still not normal about Trash Hunter. I started feeling a bit insecure about my designs like I'd been boring about them so I was trying to redeem myself. When I started imagining Trash Hunter as a fucking trash bag with grillspyd- er- collapsible grilling skewer thingies- for legs. And holy FUCK I could not get the image out of my head it's hillarious and adorable. Relisten to the episode and imagine Trash Hunter like this TRUST ME /nf

Either way, this is where I started to expand my horizons. The trash bag and the grillspyd are sort of reocurring atp. Also this was my Discord pfp for a while, now I've changed it. Might change it back eventually honestly? I don't do that. I don't repeat profile pictures ever. Ok I might have done that at some point. But for now my pfp stays the same. This is my PFP over on bluesky though!

Anyway this is the cutest shit I've ever imagined- the drawings that follow are mostly random doodles I've made at D&D or during class. BUT FIRST!!!

Pony Hunter

Ok so I play ponytown. I played a bit ages ago and then I almost forgot it existed, then my friendo kept showing off what they were doing on there and I'd seen a few vids on it recently and long story short I've made 16.5 new ponies on there and most of them are Hodgepodge Audio themed. Ponytown Pony Hunter doesn't usually wear that turtle but in this screenshot they do. The drawn version shows a bit more how I actually view them though. Oh and that IS a croissant behind their ear, thanks for asking!! (I've been waiting to say that for months, I'm overjoyed now)

Their tail is a compact mirror btw! And that tarp they have in game, those are actually wings, teehee! Oh and I forgot to say why they have croissants behind their ears- basically I was looking at the horns and realized one set of horns was kinda curvy in a croissant-y way. So I was like eh, heck it. Croissants.

Seagle Hunter

This is where the chaos started. I was at DND, and we were on a quest to help a god. We met a seagull who was definitely not a fucking seagull. I ended up getting downed and when we were like what, 5 hp away from killing whatever creature was wrecking our shit, our 2 remaining teammates fucking left us. My character Thomoras only survived because one of our teammates asked the seagull to intervene, and the seagull fucking killed the creature. Thank you, seagull. I called you Karl but I never got your real name. I'm sure you wouldn't have answered if I asked. Anyway!! All that talk about seagulls that session got me thinking "Seagull. Trash Hunter. Trash Hunter seagull." this is an accurate depiction of how I think Always. So yeah I drew them as a seagle (<- that's how I prefer writing seagull) and I was like hell yes let's draw them as more silly things because I focus better when I draw!

So I started asking people for ideas.

Goblet Hunter

And this is officially were I lost it I think. I mean, I learned to disregard canon with this. I have a few different Little Guys as I call them, and they're definitely not canon at all, BUT THEY'RE SO CUUUUTE HELLO!!! 😭😭 I asked my DND buddy to give me a random item and so I drewed this bc they said goblet....... I fucking love these so much honestly

Soup Hunter

I love soup. What more is there to say? They call me the soup enjoyer. I switch in whenever we're about to have soup. I soup my faves. I spam the soup emoji (🥣) when I get too excited for words. It had to be done! It just had to! If you want you can imagine the soup is garbage soup. Or you know those witch potions a lot of people made as a child? Using acorns and grass and flowers and whatever you could find? Could be that too. Or maybe it's brogle soup becos it's my fave and they are my fave :)

Perfectly Generic Object Hunter / PGO Hunter

It had to come eventually. The Homestuck reference. My friend said for me to make them cube and I was like "I heard Homestuck, yes? Homestuck it is."

So yeha they're a green cube now :3

Egg Hunter

They're an egg now. They're just a huge fucking egg and they roll around. They just roll around.

I'm not allowed to add more images hold your horses for the reblog, I'll get image IDs done before I post this though so next reblog should be up in not all that long

#hftr #hymns for the road #hymnspod #trash hunter hftr #trash hunter #hymns for the road podcast #hftr trash hunter #ooc post

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wickermayne · 1 day ago

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Decided to do another month kink event 🤪

Kinkuary 2025

Short Naruto/Hinata smut drabbles that I hope I can fill up the month with, enjoy! Chapter 1 is Age Gap.

She’s barely legal, though you’d never guess it from the shape of her body.

An hourglass figure with fat tits and a thick ass, her youth showing only in the pristine features of her face.

And her attitude, so worshipful and in awe, even though she’d have been a child during the Pain invasion and the war — a fan girl, high on the stories her elders told her, from what was taught in her history books, and close enough to the figure itself that she could develop a crush, or maybe something more deep-rooted.

Naruto had seen it many times before, and this wasn’t the first time he’d taken advantage of it — but Hinata was different than the rest of the girls.

There was something more genuine about Hinata, something about her nature, so docile, shy and sweet, that tickled Naruto in a way that the others didn’t.

Maybe it was because of how Hinata was so innocent….so corruptible.

Always clinging to every word Naruto said, like it was gospel.

“When’s your jounin exam again?”

Hinata blinked up at him, trying to clear her brain from its lust-addled state, her cunt with cute, baby clenches on his cock as she dealt with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Naruto smirked down at her and made it worse, rolling his hips, forcing out a low moan from Hinata as her thighs continued to twitch, her arousal dripping down the latex of the condom until it soaked against the edge of his pubic hair.

“A-ah, it’s next month, Naruto-sama,” Hinata managed to gasp out, lavender eyes glued to where they connected, whining when Naruto pulled out.

“Y’know,” Naruto drawled as he pressed his length down on Hinata’s throbbing clit, rubbing his girth lazily back and forth on it. He watched as she bit her lip, eyes nearly rolling back in her head, and he knew she’d accept his word like God, then. “I think you should postpone your exam.”

“P-postpone it?”

Naruto hummed in acknowledgement, drawing his hips back and thrusting his fat tip against her clit.

“Ooooh, Naruto-sama!”

Naruto loved the way she moaned his name, and how easy it was to get her to do it too.

“Yeah, I think you should wait to take the exam…wait until after you have my baby.”

Her eyes were sharp now, cutting through her arousal, her mouth trembling as she stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and awe.

Kakashi would scold him later for taking out a productive member from their work force — but how could Naruto hold back when Hinata looked at him like that?

“You want that, don’t you, ‘Nata?” Naruto purred, his hand caressing her belly, where her womb would be. “To have my baby?”

She answered by reaching between his legs, clumsily grabbing at the condom before she ripped it off and threw it the side. She thrusted her hips up off the bed, sliding her cunt over the underside of his cock, her arousal staining into his skin.

“Please, please, please, oh, Naruto-sama, I want it more than anything!”

Naruto slotted his cock against her entrance, watching her lips stretch in acceptance around his tip.

“And then, what if I don’t want you to do exam after that? What if I want you to stay home so I can keep gettin’ you pregnant?”

Hinata wrapped her legs around his hips, her heels digging into his back and drawing him into her hot, needy cunt. She stared up at him with the skin of her cheeks burnt red, and her eyes filled with devotion.

“That would make me the happiest woman in the world, Naruto-sama…please don’t tell me it’s a joke. Promise me.”

Naruto cussed as he thrusted into Hinata’s eager cunt, her walls pulsing around him already, primed to be bred.

For a moment, Naruto thought maybe he was the one wrapped around her finger.

Well, he didn’t mind it.

“I promise, ‘Nata.”

And then he fucked her like a beast, with the instincts of animal ready to rut, building up to painting her walls whiter than her porcelain skin. Turning her into an eager teen mother, ready to build a clan with him.

#naruto smut #naruhina #naruto/hinata #drabble #kinkuary2025

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fastcardotmp3 · 1 year ago

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🌻august bookshelf🌻

july recs | recs tag

I really enjoyed putting together a little fic rec list at the end of last month and decided to do it again!

🌻driving in your car by @kkpwnall - when I say the ultimate pining Steddie fic I MEAN IT. the use of the car as this sort of central, grounding force within Steve's world and the way the testing of his tether to Hawkins and the people in it plays out here is stunning, not to mention the HANDS and the ronance going on stage left and the complete and utter tenderness lying just beneath the surface. perfection I am swallowing it whole

🌻clueless by @gothbat99 - such a lovely short & sweet slice of life in the summer after they win the war, it feels SO important in its simplicity that Nancy and Robin are getting to behave like young people, all free and hopeful and discovering how to want/ be wanted. made my heart so big and warm in only 1k words like THAT !!! is so impressive, so worth your time, will make your day better guaranteed

🌻Faces Freedom with a Little Fear by @fragilecapric0rnn - literally Steve family-centric character study of all time, come swoon over big sister JJ Harrington and watch as her presence in his life creates a fullness and richness of growth and self-realization LIKE. I could bask in this world for the rest of forever and never get tired of its sincerity and depth and siblingisms, what a heart-squeezing delight from start to finish

🌻haunted hawkins by @hellsfireclub - starts with the brilliant premise of "what if it's not just Hawkins?" and RUNS with it, giving not just beautiful ruminations on both Nancy and Robin as they start a journey towards figuring out just how far the paranormal spreads and also a journey towards mutual self discovery and (: lesbianism (: READ THIS FIC.

🌻then I see you, you're walking 'cross the campus by stellarpoint (@heybluechild) - a lovely little peek at Steve and Nancy's friendship coming back together after they've come into their own a little bit and Nancy being so, so brave in coming out to him. truly this made my heart so big and full and warm i am carrying them gently in the palms of my hands

🌻this must be the place by @judasofsuburbia - JARGYLE CAMPING. the tenderness of this, the peace offered to Jonathan when he hasn't ever really known such a thing, the way they just sort of slot together and find and choose and become each other?? it's got me all soft in the heart and THAT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. illegal actually. I'm weak in the knees :((

🌻Young, Scrappy, & Hungry by @fragilecapric0rnn - politics ronance rivals to lovers WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?? perfect dynamics already and I can't wait to see where these girls go. the characterizations of them is so REAL despite the very different world of Washington they've been dropped into and my lesbian, TWW-loving ass is feeling soooo normal about them SO normal don't worry about it

🌻The Warmth Pulls by TheDeathsWish - I'm not fully caught up on this one yet, but it is genuinely one of the most unique AUs I've come across so I have to mention it here. It's still 1986 and it's still Hawkins, but the sci-fi overlay is switched out for more purely fantasy elements, including some very cool and beautifully revealed eccentricities and abilities of the characters. Steddie but also so hugely dependent on the ensemble of it all, which you know I eat up, I'm excited to keep working my way through this one!

P.S. if you read and enjoy any of these, please remember to tip your writers in kudos and comments!💛

#dot recs #fic recs #steddie #ronance #jargyle #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #jonathan byers #argyle stranger things #it's not the last day of the month but i'm going out of town tomorrow so here you go shhhh #will i manage to do this every month? only time will tell but for now i am making it happen!

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skunkes · 8 months ago

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if life is categorized by Before Loss and After Loss then I exist in the before but with a countdown to the after. and the countdown is always always present and debilitating. the loss will be debilitating too but i cant help myself. i will always suffer twice.

#i cant let go of it. i cant even enjoy good moments without thinking about how they'll just be memories one day #how they're already memories since moments pass so fast #everything is I'll Miss This and i already miss it and i cant believe once you're gone you're gone forever #and ill never ever see you again. and your shell is in the ground but where did the rest of you go?#should i look at your body one last time? on one hand itll be the last time i see you.#on the other hand it will be the last time i see you.#and the memory of you will die with me too. as if neither ever existed #it impacts me so much too bc i dont feel close to anybody really...and i dont make friends easily #so whats going to happen when the people who have always been there arent there anymore?#im going to be alone for so much of my life.#i will record your voice so im ready for when i cant hear it from the source while also knowing it wont be enough and one day #ill be wishing it lasted longer. it could be 12 hours long and ill want more.#how do you surpass this? it hasn't even happened. when it happens i don't know what ill do. considering my whole life has been #the timer. the countdown. hours and hours of anticipatory grief #and then ill be next. me. some of all thats left of you. it cant be true.#sorry. this gets worse every single year and its been going insane lately #id surprisingly been managing it well for months somehow ! it wouldnt cross my mind...and now its there again #like it accumulated and its all coming out right now. ive been crying for hrs tonight and last night #one day his things will just be things. things ive made and given him will be in my hands again.#talkys #i want to go hug my dad but then ill just cry over how one day i wont be able to....! how do i store it? how do i save it?#how do i preserve it forever....even as i take my own last breath....#i cant believe im the only one of me. and my dad is the only one of him.#i wouldnt want to be reborn as anyone else. i cant believe one day i wont get to draw or eat or be comfy in bed anymore.#i cant take it !! im so scared. ill be scared until the end. and you wont be there to hold my hand. im going to be alone.#and none of those years of grief and joy and memories will matter.#i wonder if it would help to tell him about this. i need something to hold onto for when it happens. anything. but i also know it'll make i #hurt more; obviously. just another piece of him that'll be gone one day

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butterflygemini · 3 months ago

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bruh idek what i'm supposed to do at this point. like the only way i could physically make enough money to pay all of my bills including making a payment of $250 on my credit card (which would have me making payments for the next four years btw), my student loans, and my current rent, and be able to reasonably afford to eat i'd have to make like $2500 after tax, so basically 21/hr. i have no fucking clue how to make that much money

#i'm really hoping the extra sales/repair money from this current job is worth it #but it did piss me off that the manager is talking about cutting my hours back to 32 from 39 after my training is over #i'm gonna talk to him and tell him i was not signed on for part-time i was hired to do full time work #but even then just the baseline pay after taxes and health insurance is just barely enough for me to reasonably live and that's WITHOUT pay #paying my rent bc my parents are paying it for me rn :/#and its like its not just one bill it's like all of my main shit is so expensive #i can't get my car insruance down my car payment is 330 a month #and i cant get out of paying my student loans unless i want to tank my credit #i just feel so fucking stuck rn #i wouldnt even care about having ot have my nose to the grindstone if i could look forward to saving money to do fun things in the future b #but i'm literally so fucking far from that reality it's not even funny #literally the only reason i havent gone crazy and am still doing things every now and again is bc i've put myself in debt 😭

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just-a-cinnamon-bun · 5 months ago

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Guess who’s struggling mentally because of their parents? :D

#personal #my mom this time #my parents have a knack for being completely normal and then taking a hard turn into judgment town #because it really does come out of nowhere when they start dissecting everything that’s wrong with their kids #and then of course they’ll get mad when we don’t like that and make it clear that we won’t stand for it #my mom: fine if you wanna struggle with your bad decisions then do what you want! we only wanted to help!#me: you literally suggested things that would’ve either made my situation worse or worsened someone else #I don’t want to give details but it’s stuff regarding my financial troubles #I’m not in as rough a spot now as I was a couple months ago #but it’s still not an easy time trying to crawl back up with the money I’ve managed to save #and my mom is under the impression that I don’t care and am only making things worse for myself all the time #(so is my dad but he didn’t text me out of the blue to tell me that today)#(he prefers to tell me in person)#hypocritical for a woman who only makes bad financial decisions and is in piles of credit card debt #like the call is coming from inside the house #I’m lucky I have my partner who’s been supportive through my struggle and of course for helping me get out of my parents’ house #but god I hate how they worm their way back into my brain so easily #make me second guess myself constantly and make me dislike every part of me #I’ll be fine in a few hours #tomorrow at the latest #just needed to vent #I know I’ll be okay #just gonna be not okay for a bit

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iniquitousyearning · 4 months ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 18th. mattheo — hate fucking / enemies.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: “at least her favourite form of foreplay isn’t an argument…” “or being a bitch her kink..”

warnings: 18+ MDNI, dubcon(meh), ex bf/gf trope, toxic behaviour, mutual manipulation, these two are chaotic as fuck, mentions of blood, gagging, degradation, rough sex PIV, hate fucking, spitting, spanking, uhhh i think that covers it. this one is a ride. can you tell this is my fav trope?

"I'm so fucking sick of you.”

"Get well soon, princess."

"Get fucked, Riddle."

Three sentences, three venomous insults that cut the room in half—heavy enough in their intensity to make you want to tear through dungeon walls, splintering stone and mortar with bare hands if it means sparing yourself another second in this blasted room, with him.

Detention at midnight—on a Friday, no fucking less—is unheard of. But leave it to your dickhead ex to make the impossible a reality. His fault, of course. Like always.

Snape had turned a blind eye for months. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. An hour unsupervised was as good as you'll get.

Sulking defeat, you sink back in your chair, rough wood digging into your spine as you eye Mattheo with a glare that could rival a bullet. He looks like hell, and it's infuriating how even in that state he manages to look so nonchalant, so maddeningly unbothered—like even exhaustion makes a home on him and he's comfortable with it. Bags under his eyes, scar cutting across the bridge of his nose, those dark curls falling messily over his forehead, white dress shirt wrinkled and open at the collar.

You roll your eyes, a gesture that feels like your only act of rebellion left.

And he notices. Of course he does.

"You haven't changed a bit," he spits, and you know it's an insult. You scowl as he swipes the blood off his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. "Always a bitch to me over something."

Bitch. The name strikes you, but you won't let him see it, won't let him know that it lands. You've bled too many times at his feet for him to draw blood again tonight.

"Am I not allowed to be pissed off that you dragged us into detention? We should be at the party, Mattheo. We should be anywhere but here." You hear the frustration rising in your voice, like it's boiling up from somewhere deep, somewhere you can't quite reach. It's hard not to let it slip, especially when he looks at you like that. "This is so fucking typical of you. You mess up, and somehow I'm the one who pays for it."

For a moment, there's silence, and it almost feels like a victory until you realize he's only biding his time, waiting to strike back.

"You really want to get back there? To that party?" He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You long for the chair to break from under him. "After what your new man was caught doing with Lovegood?"

You snort before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping out like a reflex. You hadn't expected that. And quite frankly, it's amusing—no, downright hilarious—that he's clearly been keeping tabs on you and "new man", and now here he is, trying to play it off like he doesn't care. Like it's nothing.

"I'll spare you the insults this once," you mutter, fingers loosening the tie around your neck with a tug. "Because, clearly, you're ignorant to the truth, even if you think you know every goddamn thing." You pause, ripping out your earrings. "He's not my man, so I don't give a shit what he does with who. He ended it last week. Good fuck, sure—but other than that..."

You trail off, making a mocking noise with your lips, a derisive puff of air, as if you could blow away the memory of him as easily as dust off an old book. A Ravenclaw. Brilliant in all the wrong ways—sharp mind, yes, but utterly thrill-less, like he saw you as just another page to flip through, a textbook he was annotating.

It is what it is.

A moment passes and then Mattheo grins—slow at first, but spreading across his face like fire, destructive in its consummation. It unsettles you. He looks more intrigued than he's been in months.

"A good fuck, huh?"

"That's what I said," you reply, clipped, your tone offering no room for him to crawl inside.

"And why didn't it work out? Too good for you?" He says, twisting the knife just because he can. "Too clean, maybe?"

Your eyes scan the room, searching for something within reach to throw at him, anything to break this unbearable tension. Insufferable. Every inch of him, insufferable.

You find nothing, so you throw words instead. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

He nods, as if that's the truest thing either of you have said all night. Of course he knows.

You barely suppress a dry laugh at his idiocy. "Like I told you—he ended it. If you're so fucking interested in why it didn't work out, then why don't you go ask him?"

There's a pause—he's chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares at you. You imagine chewing his head off as you stare at him.

"I'm sure you gave that bookworm the ride of his life," he says, voice half-dry, half-sarcastic, as if he's already bored of the conversation. As if he knew all of this information already. "Everyone knew that was temporary. Your first rebound, congrats."

And just like that, your blood is boiling. He knows how to needle you, how to get under your skin with the slightest flick of his stupid fucking tongue. Your eyes trace the cold stone of the dungeon walls, desperately trying to find something—anything—to distract yourself.

But it's no use. Mattheo's an asshole. He's always been an asshole. That's why you left. All the two of you did was fight and fuck, a chaotic spiral that was as thrilling as it was destructive. Now, he's easily your enemy—dragging you into his messes, never letting you get too far without ruining your life somehow.

And yet—

If you said you didn't miss the sex sometimes, that'd be a lie. Or at least a half-truth. The kind that slips out when you've had one too many glasses of firewhiskey, the kind you'd regret in the morning.

"What about you, dickhead?" You cut through the silence, ignoring his obvious attempt to rile you up. "That Hufflepuff you were seeing—why'd I see her all over Theo tonight?"

He answers far too fast. "They're friends."

You snort, disbelieving. "Right."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room to the bookcase as if it's the most natural thing in the world. The books feel safer somehow, less volatile.

"You're bored of her, aren't you?" You don't care to look at him. You can imagine the way his jaw tenses at the question.

The silence is telling. He doesn't answer right away. You know him well enough to understand what that means. Then, finally, he speaks, a half-answer that doesn't really answer the fucking question at all.

"At least her favourite form of foreplay isn't a fucking argument." He stands, slow, pushing his hair back from his forehead with one battered hand. You glance at him, pulse quickening. "Or being a bitch her kink."

"Does she even have kinks?" It slips out, a knife thrown without aiming. "Sounds like you're bored, Matty."

You watch as he blinks, his eyes darken. That nickname—you know you don't have the right to say it anymore, and that's exactly why you do. It's an insult wrapped in familiarity, and it hits its mark by the way his shoulders tense, jaw tight.

He steps toward you, one calculated step, and you feel it—that chaotic pull, the gravity that's always drawn you both in, no matter how far you try to stay away. A smile pulls at your lips, a cruel thing.

"How cute." He tilts his head just enough to inspect you, eyes dragging over you like he's searching for something to confirm what he already suspects. "Looks like you're jealous."

Your hand grips the bookshelf, eyes locked on him over your shoulder. Jealous? There's not a soul on this planet who could make you jealous. She may be the hero of this story, the girl that gets the guy, might even be everything you're not—

"Looks like you're learning the hard way," you're inspecting him now, too. Every piece of him you once touched. "When it comes too easy it's never gonna' hit as hard, babe."

Another pause from him—something dancing in his eyes. Anger? Maybe. Or something more, something twisted that you don't care to name. You've already lit the match, and now you're just watching him burn.

"You're so clever, huh? So full of advice," he sneers, ripping off his tie and chucking it on a desk. "Go on then, tell me more about how I feel, professor. Since you know everything about me."

You can't help the smirk that curls on your lips. Oh, he's pissed. And that means you're winning.

"What? You don't like hearing the truth? Too much for your delicate ego?" You take a step toward him, savouring every second of this. He hurt you, over and over, the scars from those days still fresh, still bleeding beneath your skin. This has been a long time coming. "You think I care about your new girl, Matty? The one you let your boys fawn over in the common room?...she kissed Theo tonight." You pause, letting that linger. "You think you're doing something, but I see right through you. You don't give a fuck about her. If you did, no one would dare touch her like that. So don't sit here, accusing me of jealousy, like I'm the one hung up on you. You're projecting. And it's pathetic."

He doesn't waste a goddamn beat—his laugh is bitter, sickeningly so—and he advances again, his shadow moving behind him, the space between you now barely there.

"That's amazing, truly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a goddamn oracle. All-knowing, all-seeing." His voice is infuriating. The look on his face more-so. "What's your verdict then, my lord? You think this is all an act? That everything I'm doing is just to spite you?"

Your heart races, breath catching in your throat as he steps closer. This is a dance you both know too well, the kind where neither of you win.

"I know how you operate." Your chest heaves, anger rising with every breath. "It's all a game to you, Matt. A sick, twisted game to keep yourself entertained."

"That's rich, coming from someone who played it just as well." He takes another step forward. You could reach out and touch him now he's that close. His grin grows. "Too bad your Ravenclaw figured it out before you could sink your teeth in too deep. Next time you see him, make sure to tell him I said you're welcome."

Your brows pinch—the blood in your veins screeching to a halt, backing up like New York traffic at a standstill. You feel it, hot and furious, rushing toward a place it can't go, clogged behind the wall of rage building up inside you—

"You're welcome?" You spit, a sharp snarl caught between clenched teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He's watching you, his eyes darting over your shoulder, fingers brushing over his lips like he's trying to dull that familiar smirk, that cruel little game he's always played.

Your stomach sinks, drops to your feet.

"Mattheo—" you snap, cutting him off just as he opens his mouth, before he can throw another snide word. "Spare me the cryptic bullshit for once in your life—“

His eyebrows lift at that, but there's a nod, a hint of something deeper in it. You taste the smugness in the air between you, can almost feel it slithering through his silence.

"Looks like you don't know everything after all. Isn't that ironic?" He straightens up, letting the moment breathe before his face hardens into something almost serious. "Your rebound came to me in the courtyard about two weeks ago. Had some questions about you."

"What?" Your nerves are vibrating, every cell in your body on edge. Your blood is so clogged, you swear you're seeing red. "What questions?"

"The usual sort of normal stuff. Your birthday. Your favorite colour. Childhood traumas. Our downfall. You know."

The casualty in the way he says it makes you sick, bile rising in your throat, a bitter burn at the back of your mouth. It's all starting to come together now. This stupid motherfucker—

"You're lying." The words feel weak, frail. He wouldn't—no, he couldn't. "You're fucking lying."

"Am I?" His fingers brush your cheek, but your skin's gone numb, your blood too frozen to feel anything but the cold burn of your fury. "Or, is the truth just…too much for your delicate ego to handle?"

Oh, fuck off—

Your wand is in your hand before you even realize you've grabbed it, instinct, pure reflex. There's barely a second of rational thought before you're casting, the spell hitting him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the chair he once sat in. His eyes flash, anger igniting there, and he scrambles for his wand—but you're faster.

"Expelliarmus."

One word and you're across the room before you even know you've moved, chest tight as you slam the tip of your wand against his throat. There's a cut on his lip, blood trickling down his chin for a second time tonight, but that stupid fucking smirk is still there, showcasing rubies for teeth and carved into his face like it belongs.

"Tell me what you did." Your voice cracks, but not from fear—it's fury, burgling through you, burning hot enough to make your whole body shake. You half want to cut him open just to bury your rage inside him, let him feel it. "If what you're saying is true, he ended things just days later. Tell me what the fuck you said to him."

Mattheo’s leaning back, hands raised in mock surrender, eyes glinting with the same smug amusement that's always haunted him. He's daring you, taunting you. He knows you never cared about that guy, not really.

You both know it. He was boring, easy.

This—this is something else.

His tongue swipes at the blood on his lip. "He didn't tell you—"

"Don't." Your wand digs deeper into his skin, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The pressure makes his breath hitch, but not enough. Not nearly enough. "I said tell me."

"Merlin—okay—I told him nothing, nothing really," his voice makes your grip tighten on your wand. He stares at you for a long, hard minute before he adds; "except that he should show me some fucking gratitude."

Your jaw slips, confusion rushing in like a flood. But before you can even question him—

"I told him he should be thanking me." Another pause. "When he's fucking you."

He laps at the blood seeping from the cut on his lip for the second time in only a minute and you barely notice the movement—the words hit you like a brick, but it's deeper than that, something visceral that crawls under your skin and settles in your bones. It's sharp, raw, cutting through the wall of rage so fast it leaves you breathless. You don't know how to explain it, this feeling that twists through you, something far too complicated to be named.

And then, you become aware of everything at once.

His legs, spread wide on either side of yours, the space between you so small, your chest just close enough to his face that his breath feels like it's fogging your skin. You're towering over him, wand pressed hard into his throat, your heart hammering in your chest like you're ready to ruin him—but his eyes, the way he looks up at you, says he'd let you.

"I may have even added that although you're with him, you'll always think of me. Both you and him know it’s true.“ That stupid smirk is gone, replaced with something you've never quite seen before. He pauses, before he continues. "You miss it. Us." Another pause. There’s something victorious in his tone, something that's almost breaking you. "And no matter how many times you try to forget, you never do, do you?"

Salazar save you—you should hex him. You should fucking hex him. Every nerve in your body is screaming for it, begging for it, but you can't. You can't fucking move. Your wand is still pressed to his skin, but it feels like you're the one pinned down.

"Shut up," you finally manage, but your voice is meek, thin, nothing like the fury you want to feel. "You...you're being—"

"I'll shut up," his hand finds your wrist, pressing your wand tip against his neck with more force—enough to make himself wince. "If you make me."

You blink, stunned, and you can feel your anger slipping, slipping faster than you can catch it. You don't know what's happening to you—it’s just him—his sick twisted insanity that disarms you. Time and time again. An endless fucking cycle.

"I could ruin you," you whisper, but it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself than him. You press the wand deeper, just enough to draw a grunt from him, but the look on his face—he's not afraid. No, he's enjoying it. "I have more reasons than most to leave you here bloodied for Snape to find in the morning."

You say the words but the conviction is gone, swept away in the flood of heat between you—the dizzying proximity, the way his lips curl, almost smiling but not quite—

"What are you so afraid of?" He whispers, and there's something fragile in his voice now. "That you might actually want this?"

"I don't want this." You force the words out immediately, hoping they will make it real. Hoping they'll stop this spiral. "I regret ever wanting this."

He’s silent for a moment as he lowers his hands, dark eyes falling to trace your lips—

"I know you hate me, the feelings mutual...but I know. I know I'll always be your favourite regret," those chocolate curls shift, his head tilts closer, too close. Not close enough. "You're still my weapon of choosing."

Merlin. Merlin bloody forgive you—

"…to hurt yourself with?” It's half a question, but you already know the answer.

He nods, and that does it.

Your lips are on his, fast and hard and bruising—and the reaction is immediate, visceral. All that backed-up blood—all that rage frozen in your veins rushes forward in a single, scorching wave. It crashes low, between your thighs, a heat so sharp it aches. The shame comes with it. So does the disgust. A sick knot of self-hatred pulsing through you as you taste his blood on your tongue while his hands are under your skirt, grabbing you like he owns you, pulling you into him. It's only a moment before your wand clatters to the ground, and your hands are tangled in his hair, yanking hard, hard enough to hurt.

You want it to hurt. God, you want it to hurt.

He growls at the sting on his scalp—and then, everything flips.

His fingers tug at something, and you realize it's his own wand, the one you tucked into the back of your skirt—and before you can even think, he's got it, casting a spell that sends you flying back onto the desk behind you. You groan—the world spins, but you don't even have a second to gather yourself before he's advancing toward you, casting another spell on his tie.

Within seconds it's slithering across your lips and tying itself around your head, gagging you.

He steps between your legs, parts them with the ease of someone who's done it a thousand times before—rough hands gliding up your thighs, eyes wild. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, through your slit, and you try to hold on to any shred of control, but it's gone. You can feel it. The way you forget everything except the way he leans down, breath hot in your ear.

"Look how fucking wet you are," he spits through a sneering grin. "You're goddamn shameless, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, but your thoughts scatter the moment his fingers shove inside you, curling hard—so hard you gasp into the tie, your back arching violently off the desk.

"He ever get you this wet?" His voice is like gravel, each word grinding into your bones. "Nod your head if he did."

Your body reacts before your mind does, arching against him, but you don't move your head. As much as it hurts your pride to give him that win. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull—hard enough to make him grunt, hard enough to hurt.

His hand comes down hard on your thigh in response, a sharp smack that stings, a warning. You squeal, and his fingers start pumping faster, deeper.

He huffs. "That's what I thought."

His fingers make quick work of you, relentless, and his thumb presses to your clit, rolling circles in a rhythm that has your blood on fire, shame licking at the edges of your vision, but it only makes you burn hotter. This is all wrong. Everything about this is wrong, something you'll regret with every fiber of your being tomorrow, but right now, it's an ache you need.

It's the wound you keep reopening, the pain you crave because it's the only thing that ever feels real.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you?" He sounds almost shocked, like he can't believe how easily your body betrays you, but you feel it too, the disbelief crashing through you as fast as the pleasure does. Too fast. Far too fast. "Did he ever make you cum? Huh? When's the last time you fucking came?"

You can't answer, just groan, yanking at his hair again. His response is immediate, another stinging slap to your inner thigh, sharp enough to make fluid prick your eyes. Your orgasm is right there, teetering on the edge, ready to tip over—but then he slows his pace, dragging it out, torturing you.

You whine. A pitiful, desperate sound you hate yourself for.

"Look at me." His voice cuts through the haze, and begrudgingly, you do. "He didn't make you cum, did he?"

Your face burns, not from his breath or his fingers or even the astronomical amount of shame you feel—but from the truth of it. You shake your head.

"How long?" His voice shatters the air between you. "A week?"

You shake your head again, biting into the fabric of his tie as his fingers curl deeper inside you.

"Two weeks?"

Another shake. He curses under his breath.

"You poor little thing." His words are venom, but the second they spill from his lips, he pumps his fingers into you again, massaging at your walls, and your vision goes white. "Can't even cum without me."

You would've slapped him if you could, would've torn him apart, but the orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through you with violent force. You clench around his digits, thighs trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure, convulsing, moaning into the tie as he watches you like he's won.

"So fucking easy." He withdraws his fingers, and immediately, his hands go to his belt. "We'll make up for lost time."

Everything about this feels like a rerun. The same scene playing out on loop, again and again—a cycle of self-destruction you know too well, like running headfirst into a burning building, certain you can handle the smoke only to choke on it.

He's taking off his belt, ready to fuck you stupid, and by morning you'll be back to the same familiar hatred, tearing each other apart in new, inventive ways. Your hands move sluggishly to rip the tie from your mouth, but you're slow, too slow, still dizzy from the release that blindsided you, one that you haven't felt in so long—the fabric barely grazes your fingers before Mattheo catches your wrists, yanking them back, dragging you to your feet in one rough motion.

The spin disorients you—arms pinned behind your back, his cock sliding between your thighs.

"You've done enough talking today," he hisses at your ear as he drags along your slit. "You want this, don't you?"

Your mind screams for you to shake your head, to end this here and now. You know he'd stop—he's an asshole, but not that kind of an asshole. You know it. You almost do it, almost say the word that would shatter this madness. But then he drags his tip against your clit and you moan before you can stop yourself.

Your head nods with a wanton moan, and it's so full of shame your eyes sting with tears.

"Yeah, I know, baby." He's taunting you, every syllable smug, condescending. "This pussy missed me so much, huh?" His hand tightens on your wrists until your skin burns, the other hand finding its way around your thigh, pulling you closer to him. "Fuckin' lost without me. S'all it's good for, isn't it? Taking my cock."

You groan, shaking your head in defiance, but even that feels like a lie. You hate him. You want him. You hate yourself for wanting him.

"No?" His fingers inch toward your clit, ghosting over it—you squeal, hips jerking for more. "Maybe we should call this off then?"

You blink once and his fingers are gone—wrenching a whine out of you, pathetic as you push your ass back against him, shame burning through you as you shake your head. Fuck him. Curse him. But you need him inside you, need him to fill the aching void that gnaws at you.

"That's my slut," he growls, and before you can process the words, he's inside you—one long, brutal thrust that spears you open, the stretch burning deep. The sting mixes with shock of his fingers returning to your clit, rubbing circles that make your knees buckle. "You know you're the only girl I've fucked raw? This pussy will always be mine."

He's fucking insane. Completely insane. And the worst part is, you're just as insane for wanting him. For needing him. You can't fight it. You don't even want to. Not now. Not when his voice drips like poison and he's tearing you apart in the only way you understand.

"Mmmf—" you groan into the tie and he's matching you, his teeth grazing your shoulder, marking you in ways that will last for days.

"I hope it hurts," he grumbles against your skin, his breath ragged. He's lying, you can feel it in the way his fingers are moving, coaxing you to cum, even as he pretends to wish you pain. "I hope it fucking stings."

Your hands ball into fists, trapped in his grip, and you imagine clawing at his back until you draw blood, sinking your nails in until he feels every ounce of your anger.

"I want you to feel it—fuck—I want you to remember this," he pants, his voice barely more than a growl as your climax crashes toward you, unstoppable now. "Remember how weak I make you. How much of a slut you are for me."

Another harsh thrust and then, you're there—falling into the void—pleasure is so strong it bleeds out of you, forcing your cunt to clamp tight around him, legs trembling, barely able to support you through it. Mattheo’s curses slip through clenched teeth, but this only fuels him—his rhythm picks up, brutal, hips slamming against your ass with a pace that borders on unhinged.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." The words are barely audible, grunted against the shell of your ear. You're whining, still twitching with aftershocks, but he doesn't care. His hands are on your hips now, fingers digging deep as he thrusts you forward, slamming you over the desk. The wood bites into your palms as you try to brace yourself, but his anger is palpable, drilling into you— "you wanna bitch at me now?"

The moan you release is automatic, instinctual. You can't stop it. Can't control it. His fingers curl around your throat, shifting the tie down to shove two into your mouth.

"Hhhhh—" you're trying to form words around his fingers, but it's impossible. The garbled sound is pathetic, but he knows exactly what you're trying to say.

"You hate me. I know." It’s smug, punctuated by a sharp smack to your ass, the sting of it making you yelp. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, wiping the spit across your cheek before he grips your jaw, forcing your head to turn, to meet his eyes. "Open your mouth."

There's no time to process the demand. His eyes are molten, crazed, filled with something raw and uncontainable. His next thrust is punishing, slamming into your cervix, making you sob—your mouth parting just enough—

He leans in close, and then he spits into your mouth.

"Swallow it." His fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing the order into your bones. "Be a good girl for once."

You choke out a laugh, even as you're panting, even as he's splitting you stupid.

"Never." The word barely leaves your lips before you’re spitting back at him—your entwined saliva landing across his chin and lips.

For a second, you expect the worst—you brace yourself for the retaliation—the slap, the insult, the way he'll tighten his grip and take back control. But to your surprise, instead of anger, there's a grin—wide and feral, big and crazed enough to reach his eyes.

You smile back. His cock twitches inside you.

"Fuck me," he mutters, then crashes his mouth to yours.

You taste the salt and bitterness of mingled spit, a mess of his and yours, and it pulls a moan from somewhere deep inside you. He devours it, greedy, his hips growing erratic, sloppy as his high nears.

His hand drops to your clit, fingers pressing with a precision that obliterates every last shred of sanity—and it takes only moments before the pressure builds again, fast and furious. Your third orgasm rips you apart, your body clenching tight, muscles seizing as you're lost in it. You're not sure where you end and he begins—your breath congealing with his, your moans swallowed in the space between you.

His release follows right after, crashing over him as he buries himself deep, spilling into you with a groan that reverberates through your bones. You hate the way it feels. You hate the way he fills you. But you also can't deny the twisted satisfaction of it—the way you sought this punishment, needed it. The shame consumes you, but it's comforting in its familiarity.

He pulls out, and the silence between you is easy, broken only by your ragged breathing. The room feels impossibly small now, your body still thrumming with the aftermath, but the moment is over. You both start to move—piecing yourselves back together, pulling clothes into place, avoiding the weight of what just happened.

You don't understand how it came to this, how it always does, but you're not surprised. Not anymore.

After a long, silent moment, he looks at you. “I don’t regret what I did.”

You know he doesn’t.

“I know.”

He blinks. “I won’t apologize for it.”

You know he won’t.

“I know.”

He nods, now, a smirk on his lips as he watches you fix your skirt. You note the hair sticking to his forehead, how he’s still catching his breath even though he’s pretending he isn’t.

“You aren’t mad.” An observation.

“I’m not.” You reply. You know you should be, but the relief you felt when that Ravenclaw ended things tells you everything you need to know. “Just, never do it again.”

He nods again. “Sure.”

You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean that—but, at least now, as you glance over at him, there's a small comfort in knowing you no longer want to kill him.

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wandaslovey · 2 months ago

Text

ᴍʀꜱ. ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏꜰꜰ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴡ

➺ dom!wandanat x sub!fem!reader

word count ~ 7k

authors note: i’m so excited to share this with you guys - this was so much fun to write! i’m planning on writing the first few parts as chapters where one will pick up right after the other and then once i get to a certain point i’ll do random time skips within the same au. oh also! i’m starting a tag list, so comment below if you’d like to be included on the next chapter! enjoy loves! 💕 as usual, this is not proofread.

content warning(s): legal age gap (w=30, n=33, r=23), natasha and wanda being two hot intimidating lawyers (except natasha kinda steals this show in this part, especially in the beginning. don’t worry though, wanda will have her time to shine!), conversation about kinkery and reader knows very little

if you’d like to read the drabble that inspired this series, click here

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you stand in front of the mirror, adjusting your white button-up blouse for the 10th time. you huff, frustrated that your wardrobe just wouldn’t cooperate with you this morning. as you look yourself over in the mirror—the rest of your outfit consisting of a mid-thigh black pencil skirt, some black nylons and black combat boots—you couldn’t help but wonder if your attire was okay for the interview.

the interview…you can’t believe you landed an interview at thee M.R. law firm. you knew how unqualified you were for the position, so you felt extra pressure to compensate somehow with your appearance.

you turn to the side in the mirror, first left and then right, scrutinizing yourself at every angle. you readjust the pieces of hair framing your face that you pulled out of your bun, before deciding you’d done all you could to look your best.

you glance at the clock on your nightstand in the reflection of the mirror, seeing it was time to go. you grab your knock-off brand purse and slip out of your apartment. when you walk down the stairs and open the door to the outside, the noise from the city fills your ears. the sounds of cars, horns, sirens, music and people all blended together, creating a sort of hum all new-yorkers were familiar with. you step out onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding some tourists that were taking a picture in front of the trendy restaurant you lived by. you hail a cab, quickly sliding into the backseat and telling the driver your destination.

now that you were settled in your seat with only the taxi drivers quiet music to distract you, the nerves you’d been attempting to snub out suddenly hit you full force. there was no way you could do this. you were sure you were just wasting your own time and the poor person who had to interview you. you knew your 6 months working as a receptionist at a dentist office nowhere near qualified you to manage things at M.R. law. you mentally curse yourself, thinking you must’ve been half asleep and entirely too desperate when you sent in your application at this place. you needed a job though—urgently. with your roommate moving back home, and no one else taking her place, you were stuck with paying the rent on your own. on top of that, you were still paying back loans for school. you knew you should cut your losses, leave new york and transfer to a much more affordable school, but you really wanted to stay as much as you could help it.

every stoplight you hit along the 20 minute drive only makes you more nervous. the fluttery feeling in your stomach turns into full blown pterodactyls by the time the driver has pulled up to the very tall M.R. building. you pass some folded up cash to the driver, mumbling out a quiet ‘thank you,’ and then step out of the car. you stare up at the intimidating building, the lettering of “maximoff-romanoff law” taunting you—daring you to step inside. you let out a stubborn exhale, squaring your shoulders and walking in with a confidence as fake as grape flavored candy.

you stride over to the front desk, noticing that the only employees in sight are all women.

“hi, i’m here for an 11 o’clock interview,” you tell one of the women behind the desk. she offers you a polite smile, giving you instructions to head into the elevator and up to the 8th floor. you nod your head, thanking her and make your way to your doomsday interview.

as the elevator doors shut behind you, you find yourself all alone in the small space. there was no background music to distract you now. you stare at the floor, noticing a slight glint to the black tiles you were standing on. you listen to the beeps counting up each floor, your eyes dragging up the stainless steel panel when the number reads 8 and the final beep sounds. the doors open and you’re immediately greeted with the sight of more women pacing around the place. some seemed to be in a rush while others were leisurely walking across the floor while chatting with a co-worker. you walk over to the front desk again, repeating what you had told the other kind lady downstairs. she gestures for you to take a seat on the couch in the waiting area, letting you know someone will grab you in a few minutes.

you take a seat on the black leather couch, figuring this piece of furniture probably costed more than the rent for your apartment. you cross your legs, interlocking your fingers together at your knee. you glance around the office, taking in the decor. it was very tasteful, some touches of greenery that went nicely with the black and dark woodsy vibe this floor was going for. you try your best to ignore the bile rising in your throat and the pterodactyls still swarming in your stomach. it was a good thing you didn’t eat breakfast this morning.

as two minutes turns into ten, and then fifteen, you can’t help but feel the urge to just get up and leave. you felt so out of place here; you couldn’t imagine working at this place with all these women who were so obviously out of your league.

just as you were settling on the idea of ditching this interview, you hear clacking footsteps making their way over to you. you didn’t dare look up yet, pretending to be very interested in the tiny hole in your pantyhose just above your knee.

“miss (y/l/n)?” the most heavenly, sultry voice calls out to you. your eyes slowly trail along the tile, up the woman’s legs covered in black slacks, her blouse and matching black suit jacket, and then finally her face. it was her.

thee mrs. romanoff.

mrs. romanoff was the person who was going to interview you? you couldn’t believe your eyes, or the situation. you clear your throat, realizing you had yet to acknowledge her calling out to you.

“yeah, that’s me,” you reply, standing on slightly wobbly legs. you watch as mrs. romanoff’s eyes slowly take in your appearance, her eyes lingering on your frame. you feel a little scrutinized, wondering if you really did mess up with what you were wearing.

“follow me.” she turns and leads the way. you stumble a bit as you follow behind her, not expecting her to have as long of a stride as she does.

“you’ll have to forgive me for the wait—we had a couple meetings run over this morning,” she talks to you over her shoulder, slowing her walk a little when she notices you’re not directly behind her like she thought.

“oh, no worries. i didn’t mind the wait.” that was technically a lie, but it wasn’t the wait that bothered you as much as the fact that you were left alone with your thoughts a little too long.

she rounds a corner at the end of the hall, pausing and gesturing for you to enter in one of the two doors that were side by side on the wall to the right. you walk through the doorframe, stepping into what you assumed was her personal office.

“have a seat, miss (y/l/n),” she says in a low voice, walking from behind you and around her desk to sit in her chair. you sit in one of the two chairs across from her, your heart thudding violently in your chest from being in such close proximity to her.

you adjust your seating position three times before finally settling in place, forcing yourself to sit still. mrs. romanoff humors you, remaining silent and patient through your nervous fidgeting.

“so, i have to say i was a little surprised to see your application come through to my desk,” she starts and you immediately feel your cheeks grow hot, the feeling of being in a place you don’t belong filling your whole body with dread.

she pauses, and you realize she was waiting for you to respond. right. this was supposed to be where you attempt to prove yourself adequate to work in this position.

“yes, um… well, admittedly i myself did think it was a stretch to apply here, but then i figured, i’m a fast learner, i’m very thorough in all i do and i enjoy learning new things. i thought i’d try my hand at something i haven’t done before.” you rattle off an answer that while it was true, it was also something you rehearsed 20 times in the mirror while getting ready before you got here. you were almost positive the slight robotic edge in your voice was noticeable.

mrs. romanoff hums in acknowledgment, nodding slightly at your rehearsed answer. “how well can you handle multi-tasking in a fast paced environment?” her lack of acknowledging your first answer puts a damper on your already fake confidence. you shift in your seat again, finding it harder to maintain eye contact with the sea of green that was her eyes.

“i would say i fare pretty well. i’m usually very good at managing stressful situations.” that was a complete lie—but most people bullshit their way through interviews, don’t they?

“usually?” she echoes, tilting her head to the side. she purses her lips, half attempting to hide a small smirk. she easily picked up on all your nervous antics the moment she saw you. you averting her gaze, walking unsteadily, fidgeting in your seat and the cute rose-y blush currently coloring your cheeks.

you clear your throat, interlocking your hands together in your lap. you notice they’ve already started to feel damp with sweat. “yeah, yeah most of the time i’d say so.”

“well, miss…” she glances down at what appeared to be your application and resume sitting in front of her on the desk. “(y/n)..you don’t sound very sure of yourself.” she sits upright in her chair, crossing her arms and leaning over the desk. your heart beats impossibly faster, the feeling of intimidation settling deep into your bones.

“no, i mean, i am sure—totally 100%.” you try to laugh, but it comes out sounding as nervous as you feel.

“okay, if that’s how you’d like to proceed…” she trails off, looking down at the papers in front of her again. you didn’t know what she meant, but your eyes fall desperately to the same papers she was looking at, as if they could provide some sort of answer to you. “what are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?”

you internally breath a sigh of relief. this was another answer you’d rehearsed in the mirror, it just needed to sound less robotic this time. “i’d say my greatest strengths are, i’m very punctual—i’m always on time if not early—um, i do all things thoroughly, as i mentioned before…i’m very reliable—hardly sick or need time off for family things, and i enjoy a good challenge. my greatest weakness is that i like to be very organized and sometimes i can spend a little too much time completing a certain project before moving onto the next.” you exhale after you finish talking, your eyes flicking across her face to try and get a sense of how she’s taking in your answer.

as you speak, you can’t help but notice that she was watching you so meticulously. it seemed that she was taking in not only your words, but your facial expressions, hand gestures and body language.

she looks at you for a moment as if she’s thinking hard on something. without taking her eyes off of you, she presses a button on her desk, the small ding from an intercom sounding. “joan, please track down mrs. maximoff and have her come into my office right away.”

your heartbeat now thrums loudly in your ears, your breath picking up its pace. you were not only going to be in the presence of mrs. romanoff but now mrs. maximoff too? never in your life had you seen such a powerful couple—and that was only in photos and billboards you’d seen around the city!

“is everything okay?” you ask nervously, feeling the permanent blush on your cheeks travel to the tips of your ears.

“everything’s fine, (y/n),” she gives you a smile but it was anything but reassuring. in fact, there was something about the expression that felt more intimidating with how devastatingly beautiful she was.

she grabs a pen and starts writing something on the paper. whatever it was was brief, but you couldn’t see clearly from your seat.

a quiet knock comes from the door and your posture becomes rigid as you hear who you assume to be mrs. maximoff entering the room.

“you called for me?” mrs. maximoff asks as she walks the length from the door to mrs. romanoff’s side. she walks around your chair and stands next to her wife, placing her palm flat against the desktop and leaning some of her weight on it.

“yes, i wanted you to meet our new interviewee,” she smiles with her lips and gestures to you in your seat. you look between the two beautiful, impeccably dressed women, feeling extremely small and insignificant. mrs. maximoff turns to look at you for the first time, a warm smile gracing her features.

“hi,” she offers simply, extending her hand to shake yours. you sit forward, reaching your arm out to shake her hand across the desk. her hand was incredibly soft and a little cold to the touch, but you wouldn’t expect anything less since the office was kept at such a cool temperature.

“mrs. maximoff is going to sit in on the rest of our interview. is that okay with you?” mrs. romanoff asks, her eyes daring you to object.

you quickly shake your head from side to side, shifting once again in your chair. “no, no that’s perfectly fine,” you reply easily, though you were feeling anything but fine. you notice mrs. maximoff giving her wife a curious glance but she doesn’t otherwise question it.

“let’s move over to the couches so we’re a little more comfortable,” mrs. romanoff stands up and heads over to the long olive green velvet sofa. you follow suit, except you take a seat in the smaller sofa, designed for only one person. mrs. maximoff sits closest to you on the long couch, brushing some of her pretty brown hair behind her shoulder. you watch as she glances back at her wife, mrs. romanoff giving her a certain look that you weren’t sure what it meant.

“so, (y/n), tells us what your career goals are,” mrs. romanoff proceeds with the interview as if the interruption never happened. you find yourself even more nervous to respond now that there were two, hot, older women sitting before you.

“umm…for now i really just need something steady that will simultaneously be giving me good work and life experience.. long term though, i’d like to become a therapist once i finish my masters program.” you bite your tongue once you finish your sentence, realizing this is not the sort of job where you tell your interviewers you’d like to pursue something that has nothing to do with their company.

“what appeals to you about becoming a therapist?” mrs. maximoff chimes in, tilting her head to the side curiously, just like mrs. romanoff had done earlier in the interview.

you lean back in your chair, a little surprised at her interest in your reply. “well, it’s a cliche answer, but i’m very passionate about helping people. it’s impossible to go through this life without getting seriously hurt and dealing with trauma. the vast majority of us have no idea how to cope or process through our experiences, so just knowing what i know, i’d like to try and be of some help for those who need it.”

the two lawyers look at you thoughtfully, mrs. maximoff nodding her head as you speak.

“that’s a very admirable passion. are you currently enrolled in a masters program?” she asks, crossing one of her legs over the other as she gets more comfortable in her seat.

“i am,” you reply with a shy smile. you never wanted to come across as bragging about your education, so you always sought to speak about it in the most humble way.

“you like school?” mrs. romanoff chimes in, leaning forward as she speaks.

your smile turns a bit rueful as you reply. “yes..i do. i know so many young people my age loathe school and all the hard work that needs to be put in, but…i love everything about it. i love taking notes, making flashcards, studying, taking tests, everything about it, i just love. i know it sounds a little crazy.” you laugh once, suddenly feeling more relaxed as you speak about something so genuinely. you feel a little more surprise again as you hear mrs. romanoff chuckle with you, nodding her head towards her brunette wife.

“sounds like somebody i know. this one here was a school addict. i had to practically pry textbooks out her hands just so we could do anything other than study,” she chuckles again, mrs. maximoff joining in with her.

“i won’t apologize for being so pointed about my studies. we both got straight A’s, didn’t we?” she jokes light-heartedly and you find yourself smiling warmly at their light banter.

mrs. maximoff turns back to face you, a smile still touching her lips. “what else do you do aside from school?” her question makes your face fall slightly as you now had to admit you were technically unemployed. you knew that didn’t look good for potential employers.

“right now, not a whole lot. just keeping busy with my studies,” you respond vaguely to which they both hum in response.

the pair of them continue asking you questions, except they become progressively more personal until they don’t attain to work or working at this position at all.

“do you like living alone? or do you prefer living with others?” was one of the questions mrs. romanoff asks you after you had explained you were currently without a roommate.

even though it was strange, you find that the more you talk about yourself, the more relaxed you feel. mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff both noticed it too. they could see more of your personality showing through as the nerves slowly but surely dissipated.

it had been near 40 minutes by the time mrs. romanoff checked her watch and noticed the time. she looked at her wife, mrs. maximoff seeming to sense her eyes on her as she automatically looked to the side. they shared a look, one of them nodding to the other before turning back to face you.

“well, we’ve kept you here much longer than was intended—i apologize for that.” mrs. romanoff says as she stands, mrs. maximoff following suit. you stand also, smoothing your skirt back over your legs. as you stand so closely to them now, you notice how they were both taller than you by a few inches, making you feel small again like you had earlier.

“it’s no big deal. i’m in no rush,” you smile shyly as you look up at the two of them. you extend your arm out, shaking both of their hands before getting ready to leave. they both give your hand a gentle squeeze and when mrs. romanoff shakes your hand, she grasps on longer than her wife, holding your gaze with a certain intensity.

“we’ll be in touch, miss (y/n),” she says smoothly, calling you out by your first name, and for some reason the combination between her voice and her eye contact made your knees feel weak.

you swallow thickly, nodding your head and thanking them both for the interview before turning away. mrs. maximoff leads you to the door to exit and walks you all the way out to the elevators. you pace the short distance in somewhat comfortable silence. when you turn to face her to say your final goodbye, your surprised to see mrs. romanoff behind her. she was following so quietly that you didn’t notice her presence.

“bye! thank you again,” you smile, stepping into the elevator once the doors open. the two women stand side by side of each other, giving you a near identical smile which portrayed some sort of knowing behind it, almost like they were expecting something.

“it was a pleasure meeting you miss (y/l/n),” mrs. maximoff calls out to you as the elevator doors slide closed.

you exhale a breath you didn’t now you were holding, slumping back against the elevator walls.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

that evening, you cook up a box of mac n cheese, too lazy to try and find the ingredients to make anything else. not to mention, your mind was still a little bit jumbled after your interview with thee lesbian power couple.

mrs. romanoff’s words kept echoing in your head.

”we’ll be in touch” she’d said. but didn’t your interview totally blow? especially at the end. it wasn’t so much an interview but rather more like a conversation where people try to get to know each other better. maybe they were looking for a personality hire? you really doubted that though.

you eat your mac n cheese while staring blankly at the wall, thinking over the whole exchange with mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff. as you mindlessly feed yourself spoonfuls of your dinner, you realize you didn’t even know their first names. you remembered you had once seen them on a billboard somewhere but didn’t remember exactly what they were. mrs. romanoff’s first name was natalie or something similar? you were at a loss with mrs. maximoff. you decide to google them to put your curiosities to rest.

pulling out your phone, you google their names and the law firm. after doing just a little bit of digging, you see their full names: natasha romanoff and wanda maximoff. ah, so you were close with mrs. romanoff’s name. you wonder if they only go by their last names at the office. it definitely seemed like their vibe to have things be so professional.

as you go throughout the rest of your evening, showering and getting ready for bed, you continue thinking about them. the longer your mind lingers on them, the less “professionally” you think about them. you couldn’t help but notice how utterly beautiful they both were. they both carried themselves with a confidence that anyone would find intimidating. there was something so forceful about their presences, but not necessarily in a bad way. it seemed like natasha—mrs.romanoff—was a little more rough around the edges, but you could see she easily held a soft spot for her wife and life partner. mrs. maximoff gave off a much more approachable vibe, but she was still intimidating in her own way.

as your mind continues wandering, you find yourself becoming more tired before you finally drift off to sleep, your brain fatigued from all your analytical thinking.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

the first thing you notice when you wake up is the light shining through your thin curtains. you blink a few times, slowly adjusting to the light. you blindly reach over to your nightstand, unplugging your phone from the charger. as you unlock your phone, you notice a missed call from an unknown number nearly two hours ago. you shoot up into a sitting position in your bed, suddenly feeling much more awake. it was just passed 10 am. was the unknown number a call back about your interview?

your fingers furiously swipe on your phone, quickly googling the number for M.R. law. you breath a sigh of relief when you cross reference the digits in your phone and the number online, realizing it was just a random unknown caller. you let your body fall back limply on the bed, your leg dangling off the side as you clutch your phone to your chest. that would’ve been humiliating if they called offering you the job and you didn’t pick up the phone.

as you go about your morning leisurely—not having any classes this day—you try to push the two hot lawyers out of your mind. there was no point in dwelling on them if you’d never hear from them again.

you leave your face bare of makeup, not intending on leaving the apartment and you opt for wearing comfy clothes—or “frumpy” clothes as you called them—instead of something nice.

you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a bowl of frosted flakes cereal. you let it sit there for a few minutes to soak up the milk, as soggy cereal was your favorite. you’d argue with anyone who claimed crunchy cereal was best. as you wait, you power up your laptop, intent on working on some homework.

you’re munching on your cereal, blue-light filtered glasses adorning your nose as you work on your computer screen. you were mid-bite when you hear your phone buzzing on the counter next to you. you glance down at your phone and frown slightly when you notice it looks to be the same unknown number from earlier.

you continue chewing your bite, raising the phone to your ear as you accept the call.

“hello?” you ask, your voice mumbled a bit as you still had some food in your mouth.

“good morning, miss (y/n),” you hear a warm, velvety voice greet you. after almost an hour interview with her yesterday, you’d recognize this distinct voice anywhere.

“mrs. romanoff?” you just about choke on your food as you swallow, your body tensing slightly as you feel much more alert.

“that would be correct.” you hear her chuckle softly into the phone, your tone laced with obvious surprise she must have found endearing.

“i’m so sorry! i think i missed your call earlier? i didn’t recognize the number- i had no idea it was you, i’m sorry!” you apologize quickly, thinking that if she was actually calling to offer you the job, you might have just ruined it.

“don’t worry about it. i would be surprised if you recognized it given that this is my personal number,” her voice was low and warm. it was entirely too enticing.

“oh.. umm, right. well, good morning,” you stumble slightly over your words, unsure what else to say to her.

“are you normally a late riser?” she asks with humor in her voice.

“what? oh no, not normally no. i just don’t have classes today,” you explain, a little embarrassed at her having called you out on your sleeping habits.

“i see. well, we just wanted to call and ask if you’d meet us for a coffee,” her question came out as more of a statement and you were left wondering why on earth she would want to go out for coffee with you and…wait.. did she say we?

“we?” the words echo aloud from your mind.

“yes. my wife and i,” she reiterates calmly. you look around your small excuse for a kitchen as if the reasoning behind her posing this question was written on the walls.

“like today?” you ask stupidly. of course she meant today.

“yes - today. can you meet us in 15? we’re going on lunch break. i’ll text you the address.” your eyes zip to the digital numbers plastered on the microwave. you only had 15 minutes to try and look presentable, get a cab and meet them.

“ummm..yeah. yeah sure,” you nod your head as if she could see you through the phone. you quickly hop off the stool you were sitting on, walking briskly to the bathroom with the phone still held firmly to your ear.

“perfect. we’ll see you soon.” she hangs up and you all but toss your phone on the bathroom counter, staring down at the device as if it’s offended you. you quickly snap out of it, only having 5 or so minutes to un-hobo yourself. you quickly apply some concealer on your dark spots, powder on a little blush and brush on a coat of mascara in record time. in your haste, you stumble from the bathroom to your closet, trying to find something to quickly throw on. you grab a simple white baby tee, putting it on and then aggressively stepping into some loose light wash jeans. grabbing your belongings, you half jog out the door, nearly slipping down the last two stairs of your apartment.

you quickly get a cab, thanking whatever higher power there is in your head that there was very little delay in one driving by. as the taxi driver takes you to the address you gave him, you sit forward in your seat, gathering your hair in a pony tail near the top of your head. you secure it with an elastic you always keep around your wrist and pull some pieces out to frame your face. you glance in the cab rear view mirror, seeing you looked fairly presentable. you exhale shakily, sitting back in your seat as the same nerves you felt yesterday on the way to your interview were coming back now.

what was this about? i mean, you knew it wasn’t normal to meet with potential employees for coffee. it was especially suspicious because it was mrs. romanoff *and* her wife.

your thoughts are interrupted as the taxi slows to a crawl and he pulls up to the coffee shop. you’d never been to this one before, granted there were hundreds of shops all over the city so there were probably many you hadn’t gone to. your heart leaps in your chest as you see both mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff waiting outside for you.

you pass the driver the money, thank him and slip out of the car. as you step onto the sidewalk, mrs. maximoff greets you with the same warm smile she’d given you when you first met. mrs. romanoff smiles too, though it’s not as wide as her wife’s.

“hello again, (y/n).” your heart skips a beat as you hear mrs. maximoff use your first name for the first time. mrs. romanoff had been calling you by your first name since you’d stepped foot into her office. you liked the way your name fell from both of their tongues.

“hi, good to see you both again,” you smile despite your nerves, making eye contact with both of them in a polite manner.

“shall we?” mrs. romanoff suggests as she opens the door for you, her wife placing a gentle hand on the small of your back to usher you inside. you inhale shakily, the unexpected contact surprising you in a pleasant way.

as the three of you file in behind the small line of people waiting to order, your eyes skim the menu, even though you already knew exactly what you wanted.

“cute outfit,” mrs. romanoff murmurs from behind you. you could hear what sounded to be amusement in her tone but you weren’t sure.

you turn to the side to face her, her being on your left and mrs. maximoff on your right just a half-step behind you. “thank you. i threw it on—literally. i was wearing something a lot less presentable when you first called.” you glance down at both of their outfits. the duality between yours and their outfits was almost laughable. they looked impeccably fashionable and you were just in street clothes.

wanda chuckles lightly at your comment. “what were you wearing before?” she asks.

“just an oversized tee and some biker shorts,” you shrug, crossing your arms casually over your chest. you always felt more comfortable when you had your arms wrapped around yourself.

as the line moves and you’re next, mrs. romanoff quickly stands in front of you, her body moving between you and the counter. “what’ll you have?” she gives you an expectant look, ready to give your order.

“an iced mocha?” you ask a little shyly, her show of putting herself between you and the cash register did something to you for some reason.

she nods, and turns to the barista, repeating your order along with hers and her wife’s. you’re about to protest, wanting to tell her she doesn’t have to pay for you, but you feel mrs. maximoff’s hand return to the small of your back, swiftly maneuvering you away from the line and over to the small cluster of tables.

you sit down in a chair she pulled out for you and you scoot yourself in as mrs. maximoff settles in her own seat across from you.

“you really don’t have to pay for me, you know,” you pipe gently, glancing over at mrs. romanoff who was standing at the counter waiting for the drinks before you turn back to mrs. maximoff.

“of course not, we want to. plus, neither her nor i would ever allow you to pay for yourself even if you insisted,” she smiles winsomely, her eyes gleaming with something warm and bright.

mrs. romanoff returns with all three coffees, somehow handling all three and setting them down in a graceful manner.

“thank you,” you give mrs. romanoff a gentle smile as your fingers interlock around the cup and you drag it closer to you.

they both take a sip from their coffees—which were both hot—before mrs. romanoff clears her throat, her eyes narrowing in on you as she leans forward on the table.

“so, i imagine you’re wondering why we asked you here.” she throws a glance at her wife who was already looking at her speak.

“it may have been on my mind…” you trail off, sounding as innocent as possible.

mrs. romanoff smiles knowingly, her eyes appraising you in a way that made you squirm slightly in your seat.

“it’s not about the job, as i’m sure you might have figured, but rather about offering a different type of position,” she begins. your brow furrows in confusion. what did she mean?

“a different position? like a cleaning job or something?” you immediately go to thinking about jobs that require little to no experience, figuring that might be all they’d have to offer given your background.

they both laugh at your guess, mrs. romanoff being the one to shake her head no.

“no, not a cleaning job,” she pauses, seeming to measure your expression before continuing. “(y/n), have you ever heard the term bdsm?”

your face goes blank and you look from mrs. romanoff to her wife who appeared to be watching you just as carefully.

“um…i think so? i’ve heard the term a few times before.” your legs feel like they’ve turned to jelly, an unfamiliar pit settling into your lower tummy at the abrupt shift in the topic of conversation.

“what do you know about it?” mrs. maximoff chimes in, tilting her head to the side which causes some of her neatly curled hair to fall forward.

you look between the two of them, unconsciously shrinking further down into your seat. this was such a taboo subject to talk about it public; you found yourself already growing warm from just the thought of this discussion.

“well, it’s..sex stuff…right? like being tied down and whipped?” you speak hesitantly in a small voice, throwing quick glances at the strangers littered across the coffee shop.

“those things can be a part of it, yes—if all parties discuss that’s something they like to participate in” mrs. romanoff explains and then continues. “what else have you heard about it? or is that the gist of what you know?”

you shrug, your shoulders slumped forward and your head bowed slightly to try and obscure your flushed cheeks. you suck your bottom lip into your mouth—your nervous habit.

mrs. maximoff pipes in again after noticing your bashfulness. “a lot of people have that imagery in mind when they hear the term ‘bdsm,’ so it’s understandable that that’s your impression. there is so much more to it though. really, bdsm is about exploring people’s sexual interests in a safe space. you learn about your limits, what you like, what you didn’t expect to like, and so much more.” you listen to her explanation intently, your mind immediately wandering and wondering where this conversation was going to go.

mrs. romanoff picks up off her wife’s words. “some people simply dabble in certain aspects of bdsm while others treat it more as a lifestyle—and for my wife and i, it is a lifestyle.”

you nod hesitantly as they both pause for a second, watching you digest this information. you’re unsure how to respond, feeling progressively more restless in your seat.

they both give each other a look before mrs romanoff nods and mrs. maximoff speaks.

“normally, for people who live this lifestyle, they draw up contracts between themselves and the person they want as their submissive.. now we know this is all very forward, but there’s just no other way to put it. we’d like to have you as our new submissive.”

your face turns bright red for reasons you’re not fully aware of. you weren’t quite sure what being a “submissive” all entailed, but you couldn’t wipe the imagery of being helplessly tied down and whipped from your mind. you’re silent as your brain flits through one imaginary scenario to the next. you were so clueless though, you weren’t sure if the things you were thinking up were things people actually did or if they were just shown in porn.

“me…? i just..well it’s just that..i’m-i don’t know if i would be your ideal candidate,” you stumble out, your eyes glued to the table as you avoid looking at either of them at all costs.

“on the contrary, (y/n), i singled you out almost immediately at our interview. i knew i wanted you. that’s why i had wanda join us.” her face softens as she notices your slight uneasiness. being a bit of a sadist though, she couldn’t help but find your innocence and embarrassment so incredibly gratifying. it only made her want you more.

your teeth worry into your bottom lip again as you look between one set of green eyes and then the other. “do you guys normally.. share, uhm..submissives?”

“not always, but we do like to when it’s possible,” wanda shares, a reassuring smile on her face. you purse your lips, chewing on the inside of your cheek as more questions arise in your head.

“how does that work? sharing i mean.” you knew there were people who participated in polyamorous relationships, and you had no issue with it, you just had trouble visualizing the dynamic.

natasha grins wickedly to herself, realizing now how truly innocent and unknowing you were. she suspected a little yesterday at the interview, but had no idea the true scope of your innocence. wanda also found herself undeniably more attracted to you after this conversation. her hands twitch in her lap, thinking of all the things she could do to you that you probably haven��t ever dreamed of.

“it works (y/n), trust me…” mrs. romanoff says seductively.

“we know this is all very foreign to you, sweetheart. you don’t have to say yes today, just think about it?” mrs. maximoff reaches across the table and affectionately holds onto your wrist. your stomach does a little flip-flop at the term of endearment paired with the affection.

there were so many thoughts and feelings swirling around you, but one thing stuck out above the rest. you wanted to learn more. you didn’t want to say no and close a door on something that you might enjoy.

“i want to.. i mean, um, i will think about it,” you clear your throat for the umpteenth time that day, pulling your hand back from mrs. maximoff’s light grasp. it was suddenly feeling like her hand was searing your skin.

“you want to what?” mrs. romanoff presses, her eyes looking at you with intensity again.

“i just meant that i want to learn more..about this,” you reply quietly, peeking at mrs. romanoff through your lashes. you notice her clench her jaw and flex her fingers that were resting on the table, but you weren’t sure what it meant.

“well, there’s a lot to learn, but luckily i’d say we’re both pretty good teachers,” mrs. maximoff grins more wickedly this time, her expression giving you a new glimpse into something you hadn’t seen in her until this point.

“why don’t we meet up again sometime this weekend? we can answer any questions you have—help you learn more about what we’re asking from you,” she adds, to which you surprisingly feel eager to agree to the idea. you find yourself already wanting to learn more, especially if the people who were going to educate you were two of the hottest women alive.

“yeah…let’s do that,” you nod once, your blush slowly creeping off your cheeks though a slight honey glow was still present.

you all begin to gather your things, mrs. maximoff noticing their lunch break was just about up. the three of you hardly touched your coffees, the conversation too intense to take swigs of the drinks.

the two of them walk you out of the shop, mrs. romanoff hailing down a cab for you. you turn to say goodbye to mrs. maximoff and find that she’s standing closer to you than expected.

“i look forward to seeing you again so soon, dragotsennaya veshch’,” she murmurs, reaching to give your arm an affectionate squeeze. you smile at her, unsure what she said but not caring much to know now.

you step closer to the cab after mrs. romanoff opens the door for you. before you can slip inside the car, mrs. romanoff leans down, murmuring in your ear.

“if you have any questions before the weekend that simply can’t wait, don’t hesitate to text me. you have my number.” her voice was a little rough which makes you shiver.

you nod slowly, sucking on your bottom lip again. you give mrs. maximoff a shy hand wave which she mimics with an amused grin. you sink down into the car seat, mrs. romanoff shutting the door behind you.

as the taxi drives away, you can’t help but look behind you as the two women grow smaller and smaller on the sidewalk. as the car turns a corner, the couple remain standing there until you disappear. you sigh and turn back around in your seat, resting heavily against the cushion behind you.

what just happened?

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tag list:

@poppyshuman @wandamaximoffsbadgirl @xenaizogie @ashadash0904 @kittnii @hayeeonn @gh0sstss @beggingonmykneesforher @natashalover3000 @msvenablesbitch @ihartnat @leesromanova @alwaysgoodnight @lowlifejuliett @azaleavolkova @caramelcat123 @daretodream1307-blog @ctrlaltedits @sweetmissnothing @gecko1 @karmasgxrl @marvelwomenarehot0 @elle161989 @waaayoutofline @snazzysprig @simpforlizzie @just4natasha

#venturing is inevitable: series #vii #wandanat #wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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fungateshortcakes · 3 months ago

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Pornstar!Logan NSFW

This work is inspired by @bpmiranda and their own pornstar!Logan smut, which you can find here. Please go and check it out, it's so yummy and i hope I am doing this idea justice.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: Up until now, filming a porn video was only something you joked about. But after your job failed you, this simple 'joke' brought you to a whole new carreer path that you would love to explore further, especially if your co-worker was this handsome man that ruined your pussy for everyone else.

Wordcount: 2.3k -ish

Warnings/tags: pornstar!Logan, pornstar!reader, porn with plot, first porn recording, filmed sex, best friends dad porn, squirting, unprotected penis in vagina sex, pussy pronouns, implied blowjob, basically sex with a stranger, dirty talk, doggy style, Logan is older than reader, cumming on pussy, perverted director, mention of threesome (F/F/M), english isn't my first languange (lmk if i missed something!)

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It had always been a joke. All of this - you just joked about it. But now as you stood in front of this building, the filming location, that's when you truly knew that it was in fact not a joke anymore.

You were about to cast in your first professional porn video.

For years you had been telling your friends, if your degree didn't work out, you'd start selling nsfw art. If your job applications would keep getting rejected, you would become a stripper. It was always something you and your friends could laugh about greatly, but it was never really taken serious in the end. That was about to change.

Throughout the last months, you had taken this career path more and more into your field of interest. Your hated your job, the salary, the people there and your boss. You needed a quick change. So you read about becoming a porn actress, watched interviews with stars of this industry, stating how they got into it, what they had to do, how they coped with everything at the start and much more. You felt ready, but you also didn't really, not when you stood in front of this building and knew that in just an hour, you would be having a stranger pounding his cock into your pussy while everyone around watched.

You took a deep breath as you entered and upon stating your name at the reception desk, you were brought to the second floor where you were greeted by the director.

"Ah, there you are! You're (Y/N), right?" he said and shook your hand with a firm grip. He was the manager of all of this. He had been in this industry for years and sounded very nice from the very start. You felt comfortable as you stood in front of him. You nodded your head. "Yeah, that's me. I hope I am not too late?" you asked nervously, biting your lip. You really didn't need to leave a bad expression right on the first day.

He laughed and shook his head "No, don't worry. You're just in time to meet the guy you're gonna work with today. You're gonna like him." he said and winked at you. You had already heard a bit about the man that would, to put it as is, fuck you today. They praised him highly, told you that you should be happy to have the opportunity with him because he gets so many requests from porn actresses every day.

Richie shoved you through a crowd of working people to a cozy break corner for the actors. There he stood. And wow. He already wore his outfit for the upcoming video. It was a plain black shirt, a thick belt and rugged jeans, but damn. He looked good.

Upon seeing you, a smirk spread across his lips and he stood up, hands in his pockets. "That's Mr. Howlett. Your lover for today" Richie chuckled as he introduced you to him.

"Call me Logan, sweets. Nice to meet you, heard a lot about ya" Logan said and his voice alone made your pussy throb. You both shook hands and you told him your name as well. It would be a lie if you said you weren't anxious. Your heart was beating out of your throat. You were intimidated by your work partners looks and the fact that he was a lot more experienced in this field than you. He looked very charming and handsome, picture perfect like some famous hollywood actor. And you were just, well, you. You felt like you couldn't compete with that in the slightest.

The time you had to speak to him, get to know him at least a little bit before his cock was in your mouth, was limited, because you were pulled to different stations by different people left and right, getting you into costume, fixing your make-up and hair, even checking if you had shaved down there properly. It was all so much at once, but Logan was always watching over you, weirdly enough, reassuring you. Truth be told, he saw himself when he looked at you. He was pretty confident by nature, but when he first started out in this business, he was overwhelmed and unsure at first as well. So he felt deep sympathy with you, even if you didn't know that.

Now you stood at the set with your two co-stars, Logan and some other woman who you didn't know the name of because she was so minor to the scene. She was only there to play your best friend from college. Your best friend with a smoking hot single father.

Your nerves were killing you as you stood in the pre-build bedroom with your co-star. You took a deep breath and decided to go with the flow. You knew the script, you knew the movements and looks, so there wasn't really anything that could go wrong. Right? "Okay, cameras, lights, action!" Richie yelled over the set. Now there was no going back.

You flopped down on your friends bed with a sigh. "This assigment is killing me. We've been working on it for days now and we aren't getting anywhere" you scoffed. Your on screen friend agreed with you, voicing her anger towards the professor as well.

You started acting like you were starting to unpack your bag when you heard a car engine. Your co-star groaned. "Perfect, now my dad's here. He normally works longer than that" she said. You had never met her dad, he was always at work when you were over. "Lindsay, I'm home!" Logan called before he stepped into the room, stopping in his tracks as he saw you. The camera zoomed in on your slightly shocked face, taking in your agape mouth and how your eyes clouded over. You crossed your leg over the other as warmth spread through your core.

Logan smirked at you, leaning against the doorframe. "So, you are the girl my daughter has been doing that assigment with, I assume? Nice to meet you, I'm her old man." he spoke in his deep voice, extending a warm, strong hand out for you to shake, a knowing look being shared between you as he eyed you up and down, pratically undressing you with his gaze only.

The director yelled cut. You let out a nervous sigh. This worked out way better than you had imagined, but that was just the easy part of this whole thing.

Though, the second Logan pushed the tip of his cock into your sopping pussy with a relieved smile on his lips that wasn't part of the script, you couldn't care less about your insecurities or worries. The words you were supposed to say just came naturally with the way he fucked you open. "Such a greedy little cunt, she is practically sucking me in" he groaned, one hand pushing your head into the pillows of his daughters bed.

"You really needed this, huh? Needed a big fucking cock to pound your pussy. The boys in college just don't cut it, am I right?" He groaned, enjoying the way your pussy tightened around his throbbing shaft. How could a cock feel this good? Logan could ask you the same thing - how could a fucking pussy be this tight and warm and just sopping wet?

Logan watched your face being squished against the pillows, slurring your words while you drooled. He smirked. You were made for this, the camera was eating you up like this. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about using this video when he was at home to get off. He leaned down to your ear, his plush lips kissing and biting at the shell before he whispered something only for you to hear "What a natural you are. Gotta have to request you as my partner more often from now on, don't I?" he was whispering in such a hot, breathless voice, it almost made you cum before you even should. He could feel that. And oh boy did it feed his ego.

"Does it turn you on? Being fucked on your best friends bed? By her dad?" Logan rumbled in character, kneading your tits. It took you a while to get a hold of your thoughts and the script, so Logan used that silence to keep whispering in your ear how fucking pretty your tits were. "Y-yes! I...I love it" you slurred, your voice raw from the moans you couldn't hold back for the life of you.

Logan hummed pleased. "Oh I bet you do, baby. Already so cockdrunk for me"

Your pussy felt so good with the way he was dragging his cock in and out, reaching places inside you you didn't knew existed. It was funny to you - you were supposed to fake moan and falsely contort your face in pleasure - but you didn't have to do any of that. If anything, you needed to shut up. You were moaning so loud and so prettily for Logan, it was almost excessive. You just couldn't help yourself. Every time you tried to shut your mouth, Logan would notice and pound into your sweet spot. He couldn't have you denying him of your cute sounds.

Not long and the scene ended with you squirting all over his cock and the sheets. That wasn't initially meant to happen, but with the way Logan was fucking you, you lost control as your orgasm hit. Logan tried to mask his surprise by going off script, continuing to circle your clit "Yes, such a good girl. Keep making a mess for me, baby" he groaned into your neck. You squirmed in his grasp, the overstimulation too much as you felt him cumming over your pussy. He hadn't expected you squirting, but it served perfectly to make him cum like he hadn't in a while.

Richie yelled cut again and Logan let go of your hips, making you fall flat onto the drenched sheets, completely boneless. You could hear faint applause and a warm hand on your back. As Richie approached the bed, Logan was quick to bring you his fluffy robe and wrapped it around you aftwr helping your shaken form to sit up, shielding you from prying eyes. The crew was highly professional for the most part, but there were some creeps shamelessly goggling at the actresses, especially newcomers. Sometimes Richie was one of them...

So Logan had a protective hand around your back, sprawled over your waist to keep you pressed into his side while you regained your composure. You were tired and worn out, but in a very very good way. Your core buzzed with warmth and so did the rest of your body. Without realising, you leaned your head onto Logans shoulders, softly closing your eyes for a moment. It made his heart skip a beat.

"Jesus Christ, you two were really going at it, huh?" Richie grinned and clapped his hands together. "I am deeply impressed with you, rookie. The camera loved you. Didn't even have to correct you at all. Can't believe you haven't done this before" the middle aged man chuckled and tried to discreetly pear down your cleavage to which Logan covered your upper body a bit more, staring Richie down. You didn't feel all too safe now, especially in your slight dazed state. But Logan was there and somehow being able to nuzzle into him for protection eased your mind greatly. "You two can go and take a break. I have Mirinda, Mandy and Josh for the next sesh. But after that, I'd like to see you both in action again. Maybe with another woman as well, how would you like that?"

Logan declined for you with a slight bite to his voice, excusing you and himself after he had wrapped a towel around his hips and brought you to his dressing room. Richie wasn't a bad man. But he was far from being appropriate at times. It happened rarely and mostly only to actresses who had been in this industry for years, but they knew how to treat directors like him for rude staring not to happen. But you were still so young and inexperienced with everything, so anxious and nervous. Logan wanted to protect that. Protect you. The industry was tough and he didn't want you to break under all of this like he did in the beginning himself.

"Thank you for uhm...getting me out of there" you mumbled as you began to dress yourself again with the clothes you had arrived in. You chuckled to yourself as Logan turned around when you put on your bra and underwear as if he hadn't just conpletely seen you bare and ruined you for every other man.

He scoffed. "Not for that. It was the least I could do. Sometimes he gets a bit creepy, but he his decent. He doesn't do more than stare, fortunately. Still, I'm sorry you had to endure that on your first day. But that's, sadly, how it is" he answered, pulling his shirt over his head and you shamelessly watched his muscles dip and contract from his movements.

You buttoned up your blouse and shrugged. "I expected it, honestly. But you were my knight in shining armor, or lack there of-" you laughed and Logan couldn't help but chuckle alongside you. "- so it wasn’t that bad. At least the sex was good"

Logan smirked. "It was?" he asked with a cocky undertone. He knew that it was, but hearing it from you directly made his chest flutter. Not that he would ever admit that. You nodded with a hum, slightly chewing on your bottom lip.

"I have to say the same. You have a great pussy" he blurts out, making both of you laugh. "There is more where that came from, lover boy" it was very easy to be comfortable around Logan and it made you feel a little less lost. It made you feel like you had a guiding hand and you were so grateful that he was there. It wasn’t his job to be your caretaker, he wasn't getting paid to tell you how to do things or protect you from backhanded nasty comments from filming crew members. But you were glad he instantly took you under his wing like this.

You couldn't wait to shoot with him again

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I had so much fun writing this! Let me hear your thoughts, do you want a part two?

And don't be scared, there is also going to be more sub!Logan soon and a few fluff drabbles as well. Stay tuned!

#logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #x men #hugh jackman #wolverine x reader #x reader #logan howlett #logan wolverine #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #smut #deadpool and wolverine

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tuiccim · 5 months ago

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We're Gonna Burn

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers.

Summary: When an exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby

We're Gonna Burn Masterlist

“What the hell was that, Barnes?” You practically yell as you push open the front door of the safe house you’d been directed to.

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen anything like it. God, the smell!” He shakes his head.

“It’s burned into my nostrils. All I can smell is that sweet flower smell. You’ve never seen that pink powder?” You throw your things to the floor, looking around the small, remote house.

“No, I’d tell you if I did, damnit! Why do you keep asking?” Bucky growls.

“You’re not the most forthcoming person! Shit, I think you’ve spoken more in the last two minutes than in the three months I’ve known you! Jesus, fuck, I’ve gotta get rid of this smell. I’m so fucking hot,” your voice gets smaller as you speak. You can’t think straight but head towards the bathroom, unzipping your tac suit and pulling it from your arms as you go. You slam the door and lock it. You turn the cold water on full blast and nearly fall over in your haste to get your suit off. The frigid spray helps for a few moments and you revel in it, but soon another type of heat begins to take over. Your clit throbs and when you place your hand between your legs, your wetness coats your fingers. The shower stops bringing relief and instead, the water coursing down your body seems to only make you hornier. You give in to the need that takes hold and circle your clit. It feels amazing and it takes only a couple of minutes for your orgasm to break over you. You bite your lip to hold in the moans, not wanting the asshat on the other side of the door to hear you.

Your body has a moment of relief but then the heat builds again, even quicker this time. You dip your fingers inside of you in a desperate attempt to stop it. The second orgasm you managed to pull did little to help your body and your fingers keep working furiously to bring another in hope of relief. Your moans are spilling from your lips without a care now. You just need to get this to stop. You’re disturbed when the door rattles and a fist bangs loudly.

“Open the door! I need to get in there,” Bucky bellows.

You wanted to scream at him to go away but you could barely form words. You hated the stupid supersoldier from the moment you met him. He questioned your every turn. Whether it was about your skill, experience, or motives. He never lets you get through a single conversation without making you feel like a lesser part of the team.

“Goddamnit, let me in!” He yells more loudly.

Nothing your hand was doing was helping any longer. You couldn’t think straight and, before you can make a move or form a thought, the door splinters open from a kick. A very naked Bucky comes through the door and your eyes widen as you see his cock standing at attention. He steps into the spray of the cold shower and growls. His hand works his cock furiously while his other rests on the tiles. His head falls forward as he lets the cold water fall down his back. You stand behind him, your hand still between your legs.

“Fuck, what’s happening to us?” you whimper as you lean your feverish forehead onto his back. The cool water does nothing to help but where your skin touches his tingles with relief. Abandoning all pride, you press your entire body to his and the fever seems to cool wherever you touch but your clit throbs even harder. Your cunt weeps, begging for attention.You rub yourself against him, your nipples pebbling at the contact with his back.

With a growl, Bucky turns around and you quickly back up to press your back against the wall of the shower. He stares at you, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble in your haze, “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m so hot and-”

You gasp as Bucky bends down, grabs your legs, and drags you up the tiles. You squeal and reach for any handhold as he puts your legs over his shoulders and attacks your clit with his tongue.

“Oh, fuck!” You scream as one hand lands on the ceiling to help you balance and the other buries in his hair. His tongue swirls over your clit expertly. His hands squeeze your ass as he gorges himself on you. It doesn’t take long for you to buck your hips as you come all over his face. As he sets you down, you squeeze your thighs together but your body simply screams that it wants more. You stare at each other, breathing heavily. “It’s not working. Nothing helps,” you whimper, tears forming. It’s obvious by watching him that this is affecting him almost as much as you. His supersoldier serum must be helping him but he was burning just the same.

Bucky sighs as he steps closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours with his eyes closed and whispers, “I think there’s only one thing that’s going to help.”

You put your arms around his neck, “Just do it!” You wrap a leg around his to encourage him and he lifts you up. He presses your back into the wall as he lines himself up with your entrance. He paused there for a second as if he was fighting himself. “Please, Barnes, please! I need it!” You can’t believe you’re begging the man you hate to fuck you but your body was demanding it and if he didn’t you were sure you would burn to death. If you had been thinking straight, you would probably prefer to burn but, at this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be filled.

“Goddamnit,” he whispers as he presses in. Your body bows with pleasure.

“Yes! Yes!” Your voice reverberates off the tile walls as you shout with relief. He begins to pump and your body trembles with each motion of his cock. He grabs your ass as he pounds into you and you know he’s as lost in the meeting of your bodies as you are. Your cunt flutters around him, pulling him in, begging for him to come inside of you. Your rational mind has gone completely silent and you are filled with only carnal lust. Every motion of his hips takes you higher and it’s all you want. “Don’t stop,” you grip his shoulders harder.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunts. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to and, truth was, this was the best thing he’d felt in a long time.

“Oh, God, oh, God, I’m- yes!” You release a long, high-pitched moan as you come. Your pussy grips his cock as his hips stutter. He comes with a long moan that makes you clench around him more firmly. You stay there for a few moments, catching your breath, and blessedly your body finally starts to cool. You release your legs from around his waist and he gently sets you down. You can’t look at him and instead maneuver yourself back under the cold spray. You rinse off quickly and step out of the shower. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you exit the bathroom to find your pack and some clothes. While you rifle through your pack, you feel your temperature creeping up again and then you double over from the intense wave that rolls over you. “No, no, not again,” you whisper to yourself. You look over to the broken bathroom door where Bucky still is and consider your options. Sex had given you the relief you needed but it was short lived. Your mind runs amuck with questions. What the hell was that powder? What was it doing to you? How long would this last? How many times would it take to stop this heat from trying to burn you alive? Was sex really the only relief you would find? Another pang hit and knocked the breath from your body. You were gasping in pain when an arm picked you up around your middle.

He was still wet from the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry off. The pains had hit him and he went to the only place he knew he could find relief. He carried you to the small bed in the house and set you down on your hands and knees. He grips your hips tightly and pauses for a moment as another rush of heat spreads over him, “I need-”

“Just do it,” your words come out in a rush, pressing back into him.

He enters you without preamble. Pulling you back to meet each motion of his hips, his moans give evidence of the pleasure and relief that the connection brings. You reach under you to play with your clit, trying to bring your orgasm on more quickly. Each of Bucky’s swift thrusts has you crying out with pleasure and he moves your hand away to bring you to orgasm himself. He wanted to feel you clench around him as you had before.

“Oh, fuck, just like that,” you whine, “Just like that, don’t- don’t stop, oh, fuck.”

Bucky moans as he feels your cunt flutter around his cock with your orgasm. The sounds you release are a hit straight to his cock and he comes hard, thrusting with each spurt into you. Breathing heavily, you both collapse on the bed. You lay on your side facing away from him while taking stock of your body. The relief you felt with your orgasm was short lived as heat began to build again after only a few minutes.

You feel like crying as your body radiates waves of heat. You turn over to face Bucky. He is lying on his back, his metal arm slung over his eyes, and his right hand fisting his hard cock. You make your decision quickly. Pulling his hand away, you straddle him and guide his cock inside of you. You move your hips slowly, hoping that perhaps if you stretched out the sex, it would keep the pain at bay longer. His hands grip your thighs as you rock slowly, his head is thrown back with eyes tightly closed. You looked at him for a moment and still couldn't believe that of all the teammates this could happen with, it had to be this asshole. When you first met him, you thought he was hot as fuck but as his personality (or lack there of) reared it’s ugly head you found him less and less attractive. Your anger at the situation grew as you rode him and you found yourself leaning forward, chasing your orgasm to just get this over with.

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky bucks up into you, causing you to cry out. He repeats the motion over and over again until your body spasms around him. He comes with a grunt as he watches your face contort with pleasure. You collapse on his chest without looking at him. You wondered if keeping your bodies connected would keep the heat from returning.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks softly.

You sigh weakly as you felt the now familiar warmth beginning to spread, “I was hoping…” You let out a frustrated grunt, “I was hoping if we stayed touching it would be enough. But it’s starting again.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Bucky acknowledges his own heat building. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that,” you grouse.

“I think… I think this might be a pheromone or something Hydra created to force procreation. I heard of the experiments but they abandoned it when it didn’t produce the results they wanted.”

“Which was?” You ask as your hips make slow circles. You can feel his cock quickly hardening inside of you.

“Naturally born supersoldiers,” Bucky strains out the words.

“So, we’re gonna have sex until we die or what?”

“Usually wore off in a few hours but until then…” he trails off as he gots lost in the sensations.

“Fuck,” you groan, partially out of frustration, partially from the pleasure his thick cock was producing.

“Basically,” Bucky says and you surprise yourself by laughing at the droll comment. You are even more surprised a second later when Bucky rolls you under him. He buries his face in your neck as he pulls your leg up higher and thrusts. You throw your head back as the pleasure begins to build again.

“Harder,” you whimper.

Bucky complies immediately and you whimper with each stroke. Grabbing onto him, you get lost in the feeling of his cock pounding into you sharply. You were glad that he at least was decent at this. Or was it that whatever the damn contaminant was made everything feel amazing? You were getting close with the steady way he fucked you and words started to pour out of your mouth. You were usually quite vocal in bed but hadn’t wanted to give Bucky the satisfaction. Now, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Oh, god, it’s so good. Don’t stop, right there. It’s so fucking good. Oh, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna- fuck!” You let out a loud moan as you come hard and Bucky’s hips work even faster as he nears his own end. When he comes on a broken cry, your body revels in the feeling of him emptying himself in you.

The rational side of your brain sounded far away but was still screaming at the situation. In a moment of it managing to take hold, you push Bucky off of you and roll away from him. Breathing heavily, you pray that this is over. Surely, this was enough to satisfy anything. You will yourself to stay cool, to not allow the heat to return, to hold onto any shred of sanity you can find, but despite it all, the heat built again. You felt like screaming but you knew that nothing you did would help. You turn back to Bucky and say frustratedly, “Ready for another round?” You can’t meet his eyes but you knew neither of you could handle the pain and heat. You needed each other.

Bucky turns to you, “Hey.” He waits, wanting you to look him in the eyes but you just stare at his chest. “Hey.”

“What?” You say waspishly, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“Never mind,” he says as he grabs you and pulls your back against his chest. His cock nudges you from behind and you maneuver your hips to allow him entry. His thrusts are quick and sharp but his fingers on your clit are pure magic. He’s learned your body quickly but instead of leading you straight to orgasm this time, he works you to the precipice and then backs off repeatedly. You understood what he was trying to do. He was trying to prolong the sex in hopes of not having to come inside you any more than he already had but it was as if your body only got angrier with each denial.

“It’s not working! Just let me come!” You finally cry out, your frustration having reached its breaking point.

“Say it,” Bucky growls.

You wrack your muddled brain trying to grasp what he wants and latch on to the only word you can find, “Please!”

“No, say my name.”

You would normally reel angrily at a command from him but the effects this powder had on you makes you compliant from need. You stutter as your tongue tries to cooperate, “B- Barnes.”

“No,” he says darkly, “Say it.”

“Bucky,” you grind the word out through your teeth. You had never once called him that. It had always been some variant of his last name. You felt even more vulnerable now.

Bucky doesn’t utter a word but he moves his hips faster and his fingers do their job. When you finally come, your whole body spasms and you scream. The sound was foreign to your ears but the orgasm just kept going. You fluttered around Bucky’s cock, milking him of cum. You stay in that position for the next two rounds of sex. Then you got on top again to give Bucky a break but this time you faced away from him. You couldn’t look at him. When you had rode him to two orgasms and yourself to utter exhaustion, he turned you on your stomach to fuck you again. You lost count of the number of times you had sex. More orgasms than you’d ever had in your life were accomplished and you didn’t have any clue how many times he came. You fucked until you both passed out.

Waking up fourteen hours later, you felt as if you had the worst hangover you’d ever experienced. You glance at the spot Bucky had been in but he was gone. On the table by the bed was a couple of bottles of water, a protein bar, and a bottle of pain reliever. You raised your eyebrow at the items but just shrugged as you tore into all of them. You notice your pack is by the bed and you get up to put clothes on. The first thing you notice is the soreness between your legs but really your whole body hurts. You listen for a moment but don’t hear anything in the house. Peeking out the door, you see the empty living room and slip into the bathroom. You shower quickly, trying not to remember what happened in the small space just yesterday.

You jump when a knock sounds while you are dressing. You call out, “Yes?”

“Exfil will be here in five minutes,” Bucky says through the broken door.

“I’ll be right out,” you say. Your stomach is in knots. You can’t imagine facing him after everything. Would he act like nothing happened or gloat like the asshole he is? You wonder if you will ever be able to look him in the face again. You look at yourself, surprised that you still look the same as you did yesterday because you know you’ll never be the same again. But you didn’t have time to dwell on that. Now, you had a jet to catch.

Part 2

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