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randomshyperson · 8 months

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Best (Girl)Friends - Wanda Maximoff x Rogers!Reader

Summary: Wanda sympathizes with your willpower. 70 years on ice is a long time to wait for an intimate touch. And being the good friend that she is, Wanda offers you some help.

Warnings: (+18), some vague plot, smut with virginity loss, Rogers!Reader following all Wanda’s wishes, power bottom!Wanda, kissing, friends to lovers, mutual pining, explicit consent but Wanda being a tease and a bit possessive. | Words: 4.893k

A/-N-> I’m pretty sure this was a request, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

-&-

Shield acted as if they won the lottery.

In a way, it felt like that. Two Rogers siblings found on the same day would probably yield some promotions within the teams responsible, and a nice image bonus with the US government.

But while Captain America was found in a negative temperature on the other side of the planet, his sister destroyed an entire building with her sudden appearance inside a blue explosion a few hours later.

In your defense, you had no idea what was about to happen.

One minute, you were inside a Howard Stark-designed marine suit at the bottom of the ocean. But in Shield's defense, you were disobeying the orders of your director, that is, Margaret Carter on the phone, who five minutes earlier insisted that she would not risk losing another Rogers and that reaching the cube was not worth the risk to your safety, but you still put on the prototype underwater suit and dived in search of the item, which, to you, was the key to finding your brother.

You were right, in a way. Touching the cube with the determined idea that you would like to see Steve again really worked. The problem was how it happened.

The explosion was all around you, and you saw nothing but the beam of blue light that forced you to close your eyes. One moment you were deep in the sea, and the next you were in the middle of one of the Shield Secret Bases, a thousand of bricks flying around with the force of the explosion.

Your presence in the secret room of Project PEGASUS caused Shield to be on high alert, and a dozen rifles to be pointed in your face.

But it was all cleared up in no time and ended with your figure handcuffed on the seat of a government Jet on its way to New York.

Unlike Steve, you were awake. And not the least bit in the mood to follow Nick Fury's theatrical demands.

"That's to avoid shock, Miss Rogers-"

"Absolutely not, Nicholas." You cut him off impatiently, your hands-free since Shield had clarified exactly who you were. "The first thing I'm saying to my brother won't be a lie."

Nick sighed. "I understand it's a delicate situation, Miss, but Captain Rogers has been frozen for too long. An innocent fantasy is meant to lessen the shock of the truth."

You skirted Nick without caring about the speech. "There's no way to lighten news like this one. We're both in the future, for Chris’s sake! That it's absurd enough. No more lies, and let me see my brother for once. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that."

Fury didn't have the heart to insist, not only because he had another supersoldier getting him out of the way, but because of the emotion in your voice. He waved in dismissal to any soldier more curious about your determined walk, and no one interfered as you made your way to the room where they placed your brother.

Shield had begun to create a scenario around him that made you chuckle in irony. You dismissed the agent posing as a nurse with a look, and Nick allowed you to be alone in the room, and without wasting any time, you made your way to the bed.

Steve looked the same as he did the day he disappeared, and you felt a sob break in your throat. Maybe the sound woke him up.

He opened confused eyes at you, and unlike him, you had aged a lot since the last time he had seen you when you were still a child.

"Hey, Stevie." Your greeting came hoarsely, laden with emotion. Steve took a moment to recognize you.

"Y/N?" He asked, tense and startled. You could almost see the gears of his brain working, the way he tried to recognize his surroundings as well. "God, how long have I...?"

"Longer than you can imagine, big brother. Much longer." You replied before hugging him tightly.

This must have been the last entirely friendly interaction you had with your brother, a reunion bittersweet for its peculiarities that was unable to conciliate years of differences between the two of you. Nor did the ice erase your hurt over Steve sending you away from the war when your parents passed away, or make you forget the years of training and working for Shield in search of him once you were back in Brooklyn. Nor did it change Steve's view of how he wanted to protect and keep out of trouble - which included superhero work - his younger sister who he had vowed to take care of.

But it was indeed an undeniable amusement to the rest of the team that the personalities of the Rogers siblings were so blatantly different, and it caused some apprehension every time Steve had to witness you leaving the tower in some sports car borrowed from Tony Stark while dressed in leather jackets borrowed from Natasha Romanoff.

The apex that you were entirely corrupted for all that he expected from a proper 1950s girl came in the addition of a certain angry witch to the team a while later.

Of course, the close age - if one ignores the years between the time jump and your arrival - you and Wanda had made your friendship an inevitability. But this doesn't mean that witnessing your clear crush on the new Avenger wasn't giving your older brother a headache.

Natasha thinks he deserved some credit. Considering he was a white man from the 1950s who was frozen before appearing in a new century, Steve was pretty open-minded. She was pretty sure this was due to the closet years of keeping a secret crush on his best friend, but she wouldn't be mean enough to torment Steve with that.

And besides this, you were also getting used to the new century. And with the possibility of being able to have feelings for Wanda in an open and free way, so different from the world you lived in before.

The witch, on the other hand, had the greatest of fun tormenting you as much as she could while she waited for you to be ready.

And these teases came at every opportunity Wanda could take, from summer days at the tower pool where she had an excuse to wear bikinis around you and make a complete mess of you with the "friendly cuddling" which is how she came to justify the fact that your room was hers now and that there was nothing more platonical than sleeping cuddled up to your best friend.

With each passing moment, you grew comfortable and certain in your own feelings, parallel to which you became more confident in your powers and Wanda began to feel that the tables were turning on her every time a tickle war ended with you using your super-strength to pin her to the bed or you could effortlessly carry her away from a training session or conflict.

It didn't take long for the situation to become unbearable - Wanda was sure she would combust in the next cuddling session if she felt your body against hers again without that leading to what she really wanted, so now she had to take drastic action.

Communication was always the key to everything.

"Have you ever had sex?"

Your cell phone fell hard on your face. Wanda giggled at the mirror reflection: she was on her back brushing her hair and stealing glances at your figure lying on the bed, still learning to use the current technology but definitely loving the whole thing.

Snorting in embarrassment, you pushed the electronic device down onto the mattress and massaged your sore face. "I'm beginning to think you enjoy seeing me like this."

"What do you mean?" She asks innocently, turning her attention to the ring drawer.

"Disconcerted."

Wanda chuckles mischievously, running her fingers through the options and trying to decide between the items as you stare at the ceiling. "I know you're like 100 years old, but won’t you tell me that it never happened? Not even when you became a hottie super soldier?"

You grunted in shame, covering your face with your arm. Wanda giggled again, this time putting on one of the silver rings. You were too far away to notice how her fingers were slightly trembling, giving away how she was equally affected by the conversation. But unlike you, Wanda knew how to keep it cool very well.

"Wandaaa." You grumbled, and she almost dropped the subject when you added. "No."

"No, what?"

With a sigh, you removed your arm from in front of your face but didn't risk looking at her. "Back then...I just, I didn't have the courage I guess. You know, girls were supposed to be virgins to marry, in theory. And well, I wasn't going to marry anyone because I was too busy working. And when I got into the army, the vast majority of the guys I knew started looking at me with contempt and indignation, and then came the serum I just...didn't know how to handle the attention."

Wanda spun the stool she was sitting on toward you, listening closely to your words.

You sighed shyly. "I mean I had opportunities, but I just didn't feel comfortable following them. I wanted... to be with someone who liked me. Not the super serum, you know? Most people were only talking to me because of it. They hoped to gain some kind of benefit from meeting the American Soldier. I don't know, maybe it's just me trying not to sound so... cowardly."

Wanda stood up with a sigh, and you swallowed dryly, keeping your gaze on the ceiling until her face appear in your field of vision.

"Detka, you are literally the bravest person I know." Reminded the witch, bringing a small smile to you. "And there's nothing wrong with not being ready, or waiting for the right person. Sex is intimate, it makes sense that you want it to happen with someone you like and who likes you back."

"Thank you for being understanding." You muttered, swallowing dryly when instead of returning to her previous activities, Wanda sat down on the bed next to you. With a sigh and shifting your gaze to the ceiling again, you ventured, "Have you?"

Wanda's teasing giggle brought a deep color to your face. "Have I what?"

Snorting, you retorted, "Come on, you're the one who brought this up."

Wanda pinched you gently on the belly, smiling at your complaint. “A few times, actually.'"

It made no sense at all to feel jealous of a time you didn't even know her, and that you were somehow in the past, but still, a bitter burn filled your stomach. Wanda, the telepath that she was, seemed to know exactly what you were thinking, and without caring whether it would make your heart stop or not, approached you to use your torso as her personal pillow. With two legs on which side of your hips, she stared down at you.

"But it was nothing outstanding." She began, using her fingertips to wander all the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders through your pajamas and having the best time in the world in watching every single hair of you shiver. "I kept making the same mistake in settling down for mediocre sex. No real feelings, no passion, much less love. Always end up frustrated and having to finish the job alone."

You frowned in confusion. "Alone...?" But it only took one look from Wanda for you to understand what she meant and choke, your face pink again. The younger girl giggled, leaning her elbow on you to rest her chin on her own hand and take a closer look.

"Eyes on me, baby." She asked, hoping you would overcome your own shyness to do so. When you follow her request, Wanda was ready to risk everything. "You know I love you, don't you?"

You sighed, nodding. "I love you too, Wanda." Your confession was huskier than hers, and she had to ignore the sincerity of what that really meant in order to stay focused on that afternoon's goal. "Kind of the essential thing on the best friend package, isn't it?"

Wanda chuckled, rolling her eyes.

Of course, you would make a joke to lessen the intensity of the moment, if she was nervous in all her confident glory, she could have sympathy for you, who was literally having to deal with your long-time crush practicing lying over you.

"Friends help each other, don't they? Especially best friends." She retorted, and you frowned in confusion.

"Yeah, I guess… why, did something happen?" Before your confusion could turn to worry entirely and you could finish the movement of getting up, Wanda pressed her hands on your shoulders and pushed you back on the mattress. "Hey." You chuckled puzzledly, but the laughter died into an affected sigh when Wanda simply shifted in your lap completely, in a very non-platonic way. "Right, whatever makes you comfortable." You mutter, very aware of the heat radiating from the girl's body on top of you, who just chuckled mischievously at your shyness.

"Relax, dorogoya." Wanda reasserted in a low, dangerously seductive voice. Her hands were on your shoulders still, rubbing your loose pajamas and somehow pushing them down to the limits, exposing as much skin as Wanda could manage. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to...but I also need you to tell me exactly what you wanna do and how ready for me you are."

Your throat went dry, and Wanda's dilated pupils were not helping the words to form. She bit her lip, seeming to have the best time with your clumsiness.

"I-I... god, Wanda..." You gasped and she leaned in completely until her breath was hitting your cheek.

"How about a kiss? Don't tell me you never got one?" She mocked and you had to chuckle dryly.

"You can be quite an ass, Maximoff." You murmured with your eyes closed, risking moving your hands to her thighs around your hips, the action making you both hold your breaths for a second. "I've kissed before."

"Hmm, I see." She hits back, deviating from the original path and letting her mouth tease your jaw, feeling your hands squeeze her thighs gently with every kiss across your skin. What Wanda wouldn't do to see you lose control...

"I like kissing." You confess hoarsely, mostly because she’s making you so nervous that the words are simply spilling. You kept your eyes closed and your neck stretched to give her more room to don’t stop. Aware of your words, Wanda hums again as she keeps depositing chaste kisses on your collarbone. "I like...kissing girls."

It should be a heartfelt confession, one that Wanda theoretically knew about but that you've never put into words before. But suddenly, Wanda bit down on you, hard enough for you to grunt in pain, opening your eyes. She grabs your cheeks with one hand, a hot fury in her eyes that makes you shudder.

"Rule number one, don't talk about other girls when you have one on top of you."

You open your mouth like a fish, babbling nonsense for enough time for Wanda to make a motion of leaving. But that makes you react. "I didn't mean to upset you!" You try quickly, hands moving on an instinct to hold her by the waist on top of you. Wanda has to bite her lips hard to keep from letting out a much more submissive sound than she would like when you just squeeze her firmly to keep her there. "Wanda, please forgive me! I-you caught me off guard, alright? I’m nervous… We’re friends and suddenly… you’re so close and I’m talking nonsense! Please, just… tell me what you want to hear.”

She huffs impatiently, crossing her arms and turning her face away as you sigh in defeat. Wanda wants to be annoyed, but you're so lovely when you lean your face into her, trying to ease her anger with chaste kisses on her cheeks and neck until you manage to get from her a stubborn smile. She has no choice but to uncross her arms to slide her hands up your shoulders, wrapping herself around your body again.

She feels you smile and relax completely, the kisses getting firmer on her neck until they tickle and elicit a husky giggle from her. Still, Wanda settles a hand in your hair, and the slight tug to bring your faces close together again draws a deep sigh from you.

"I don't want to hear about other girls, detka. This is your last warning." She says seriously with eyes glowing red for a moment. Wanda had hoped to have a direct effect, but to her surprise, a teasing smirk began to form on your lips.

"Wow, you're totally jealous." You accused and she grimaced, trying to pull away once more. But that only made you burst out into a teasing giggle, while your strong arms wrapped around her torso, bringing her back to you effortlessly while keeping her locked into you. Wanda was clearly aware of how shaky her legs were with the motion, and trying to walk away again would only result in her falling to the ground. "Wanda, darling, the girls I kissed must be a hundred years old by now."

Reluctantly and with a rosy tinge in her cheeks, she mutters, "Honestly, I was hoping to be your first." Her confession makes you rise your eyebrows in surprise, only to smile fondly next. Your hands moved again, caressing her back in an attempt to relax her as well.

"Hey, look at me." You call out gently, waiting for the girl's stubbornness to subside with the help of your caresses. Wanda has a stronger color on her face when she finally raises her eyes to you again. "I didn't imagine this was anything of relevance to you. But I haven't lied before, I've never been with someone intimately. If you still want to, you can be my first... everything else."

She twitches her nose softly. "You’re making it sound like it’s a favor for me. I only want to... if you do too." She retorts with a certain determination in her gaze, and though you feel your cheeks burn with the ultimatum, you nod foolishly before breaking the distance.

It catches Wanda by surprise, the sudden kiss, and you're despairing when she doesn't respond immediately, pulling away at the same speed you approached. "Sorry." You say mortified and breathless, your lips tingling. "I like you, Wan. I really do. I just thought you should know before..."

She places a finger over yours, shushing your nervous anticipation. Her free hand goes to your cheek and Wanda pulls you close again, her eyes darkening in a way that makes you shiver entirely.

"Like I said before, just relax, baby. Stop overthinking." She whispers before she firms her mouth over yours. It's a sensual, intense kiss unlike any you've ever received. Wanda seems determined to drive you to complete insanity. She kisses you unhurried, waiting for permission to slide her tongue into yours, and giving you no room to breathe properly, head spinning with those new yet so familiar needy feelings. She kisses and kisses you until you're restless beneath her, your body burning and your hands curious testing limits that she doesn’t impose, only encourages you to break. Her taste and smell intoxicate your every sense, the feel of her body molded to yours, teasing your reactions and almost making you lose control of your strength. The tight squeeze you give her when she sucks your tongue earns a whimper from her that sticks and echoes in your mind, making you dizzy with lust. When she finally breaks the kiss to breathe, her lips are swollen like yours, and her pupils are so dilated that there is no green left in them. Your face burns for the matching fire you find in her gaze.

You are unable to find any words to describe this moment, so you only stare at her, blushing over the smirk that starts to form on her lips once she catches the adoring look you’re giving her.

Licking your lips to try to gain some focus, you dare to ask: “Was it…good?” You would have added “Did you like” or “Was I enough” if Wanda didn't break into a giggle that shut you entirely, your cheeks burning. Before the shame could surface, she grabbed your cheeks again. “You’re too cute, darling.” She says, kissing you again more quickly than before. Her hands move to yours then, intertwining your fingers together to drag them on her thighs, down, and then back up, this time under her skirt. Your heart stopped, and Wanda turned her dark eyes back to yours, her voice so low you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close. “Don’t be shy, see for yourself how much I like kissing you.” She whispers darkly.

When she kisses you again, her hands guide you under her skirt until you're in her front. The mere contact of your fingers with the wet spot on her panties makes you groan and break the kiss, needing a moment to just take a breath and calm your nerves. Wanda doesn't wait long, releasing your hands to move hers to your shoulders, needing firm support now that you're so close to where she needs it so badly. She gasps in surprise when your hand gives a quick tug that rips her panties off at once, a wave of new wetness running down her thighs in the same second.

You don't say anything about it, just turns your face to kiss her again, the same way she did before, and somehow even dirtier and more sexual, drawing gasps with every flick of your tongue against hers.

Because Wanda's your best friend, she wants to taunt you - tease you about being better at this than you let on, but all the words fall away at once when your fingers fill her in one go. All Wanda can do is moan, choking on the kiss as she feels you slide into her with such ease.

"Fuck, detka." She moans with her eyes tightly closed, just as she pulls away to breathe. Your response is to just continue your movements, in and out of her without haste, feeling every mention of her warm walls squeezing your fingers. Wanda is burning on top of you and the sound of her drenched pleasure echoes low. You hum contentedly, nipping at her neck as she can no longer match the kiss, so close to her own climax. Your hand adjusts, increasing its reach, and when your thumb gives her clit the attention it needs, Wanda lets out an affected squeal. "W-wanna cum, baby. Please!"

You bite back a smile, surprised and impressed by the question hidden in the statement. You adjust to face her and wait for Wanda to feel the change to look at you too. The dark, lust-filled pupils leave you breathless.

"You can cum, sweetheart, you don't even have to ask." You assure her softly, never stopping your movements inside her. "I'm here to please you." You whisper, and it's enough for Wanda to break into an affected moan, hips thrusting helplessly against your hand until she arches her back and lets out the longest, dirtiest moan you've ever heard.

Her eyes flutter shut as she rides her high on your soaked hand, until she finally opens scarlet pupils for you, a long groan leaving her lips as the last sensations of the best orgasm she ever had fade away.

Wanda turns her full attention to you in the next second, stealing quick but intense kisses until a husky giggle leaves her lips and tickles yours.

"You're too good at this for your own good." She prompts, and the compliment takes a heartfelt giggle from you. You try to relax under her gaze but Wanda's dilated eyes have a different twinkle as she holds your cheeks more firmly. "I think I want to keep you all to myself. Without sharing with anybody else. What do you say, baby?"

You swallow dry, suddenly quite vulnerable "H-hm, like... dating?" You retort in a weak tone of voice because you need to confirm and well the idea that someone as unbelievably awesome as Wanda Maximoff is actually asking for exclusivity with you seems too freaking surreal not to confirm. As many times as necessary.

Wanda giggles mischievously, settling herself on top of your fingers that never left her and sighing as she feels you even deeper than before. "Yeah, just like that." She moans, and you're not sure if she's answering your question or guiding you through the motions, but you get the impression that the answer goes both ways.

It's not like you will contradict your new girlfriend any further.

Before Wanda could indulge in the sensation again, however, she stopped you with a gentle grip on your wrist. Raising curious eyes to the breathless flushed girl on top of you, your first reaction was to check if you had done something wrong, and by god, hurt her. But Wanda bit back a smile, her other hand going down to your belt.

"We're overdressed, honey." She whispered against your lips, red sparkles playing with the edge of your shirts, teasing them upward. " Strip."

Moaning low against her mouth, Wanda almost didn't let you pull away. In record time, your clothes were off and so were hers, between stolen panting kisses you fell to the mattress again, curious hands urging together.

Wanda pinned you beneath her with no effort despite your super strength, and feeling her naked against your skin drove you to the brink of insanity. She swallowed each moan with her mouth, appreciating the increasingly needy sounds as she fit against your hips, and began to move hers.

Soon, the friction became unbearably arousing and you had to clutch at the sheet, and the headboard. A hot, tight knot at the tip of your stomach left you breathless, every movement of Wanda's hips into yours, the perfect fit between your cunts was enough to make you choke.

You practically meowed when she got the rhythm right. "O-oh god Wanda! T-there's something... fuck, I can't-"

"I know baby, just let go for me." She panted, her hands clenching the sheet on either side of your head, her hips frantic against yours. "Fuck, you feel amazing" She moans a confession, smiling satisfied at your expression of pure bliss beneath her.

Suddenly the knot bursts, and you're blinded by the pleasure of your first orgasm for a full moment. The headboard snaps in your left hand and Wanda cums in a loud, animalistic moan, spilling herself down on you before collapsing heavily onto your torso, your panting breaths mingling like your juices.

You try to recover together from the intensity of the climax, your hand finding her back on instinct to stroke her as Wanda nestles closer against you, an exhausted, satisfied smile on her lips.

She barely had a chance to lift her face to kiss you when the bedroom door suddenly opened.

"Kid, is everything all right in here I heard something breaking-'"

You nearly knocked Wanda off the bed in an attempt to cover the two of you with the comforter - and the mattress lost a few springs in the process.

The two Avengers who'd entered the room covered their faces with their hands, but unlike your brother, Natasha was holding back her laughter.

"I'm sorry. We... I... you-"

"Come on Captain, we're leaving." Natasha cut Steve off with a pat on the shoulder, leading the way backward. "Sorry girls, lock the door next time. And well, use protection!" She burst out laughing, ignoring the embarrassed grumbles from you and Wanda, and closing the door.

With the safety of a locked door, you hid your face in your pillow.

"Great, the best day of my life might be ruined because my brother is going to have a stroke." You grumbled, getting a hearty laugh from the other.

Wanda adjusted herself, stroking your hair until you looked at her again. "Best day of your life, huh? I'm flattered." She teases, smiling at the red that appears on your cheeks.

"As if you weren't cocky enough." You retort in the same tone, adjusting to hold her by the waist and pull her to you, getting on top now. Wanda sighs softly, even warmer with the addition of the blanket now, she finds it kind of hard to concentrate, much more talk. "Thank you, Wands."

Your line surprises her. "For what?"

"For being my first time." You clarify with a shrug, though your gaze was intense. "I've always wanted it to be with someone special, someone I like and trust. And there's no one I love more than you."

Wanda kisses you because she doesn't want to be the type to cry during sex, and she's pretty sure she would. You don't mind, she transmits the feeling through action and well, there are other things you're dying to do other than talk.

There will be time for confessions later.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff oneshots #marvel oneshots #elizabeth olsen x reader

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recklesssturniolo · 4 months

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Hotel - M.S

Based on a req for reader n Matt having to share a hotel room/bed together, enemies x lovers, dom!Matt, some degrading

NSFW below, leave if you’re a minor (or that bitch from Wattpad you can gtfo)

Finding a hotel this late at night with available rooms was almost impossible, but we got lucky - until Nick announced Matt and I would be sharing a room.

“You’re fucking kidding right? There’s no way I’m sharing a room with him” I yell, glaring at Matt.

“Listen I know it isn’t ideal but it’s just how we’re gonna have to do it. It’s one night you’ll both be fine” Nick sighs.

“About to be the worst night of my life” Matt grumbles.

“Jesus Christ I can’t listen to you two any longer, let’s just all go to our rooms and we’ll leave early tomorrow morning” Chris says.

Everyone nods while Matt and I continue giving each other the death stare. Making it to our room, opening the door and both of us putting down our stuff, pure silence taking over.

“I’m going to change” I announce.

“Good for you” Matt mumbles.

I change in the bathroom into a simple t shirt and shorts. Walking out I feel Matt’s eyes travel up and down my body but choose not to comment on it but notice he had changed as well, leaving him without a shirt on.

Sighing as I got into the bed, I was already annoyed at how much space Matt was taking up.

“Move over for fuck sakes, and stay on your side” I say.

“Trust me I will, I don’t want to be any closer to you than I need to” He shoots back.

Matt glances over at me again before shuffling over, turning the lamp off and getting himself comfortable. I turn so my back is facing him, before attempting to fall asleep myself.

Unaware of how much time had passed, I wake up to Matt’s hand on my hip, his body right against mine. Why the fuck are we even in this position?

“You wouldn’t stop moving your fucking hips and I was freezing so moved over” He grumbles, clearly aware of the fact I had woke up.

“Alright, no need for the fucking attitude” I reply.

“Maybe if you weren’t basically grinding against my dick and giving me a hard on I wouldn’t have to give attitude” He snaps back.

My breath hitches in my throat hearing him say that. Suddenly becoming extremely aware of his dick pressed against my ass.

“Sounds like a you issue” I mumble, glad it was dark so he was unable to see the blush that formed on my face.

“Keep it up and you’ll be a whimpering mess beneath me” He replies.

All it took was that one sentence for me to feel an ache forming between my legs.

“What no snarky come back? Too affected by what I said?” He asks.

“Fuck off and let me go back to sleep” I grumble, refusing to admit that he was having an affect on me.

Turning back over and closing my eyes, I feel Matt’s hand fiddling with the waist band of my shorts. My breathing becoming heavier as I try to ignore the growing sensation of need forming.

“If you’re trying to pretend you aren’t turned on, you’re doing a shit job” He whispers in my ear. His lips trailing down my neck.

Tilting my head back slightly, giving him easier access to my neck, I let out a gasp as he nips slightly at the skin on my neck.

“Matt” I groan, the wetness growing in my panties.

“Hm?” He replies, his hand now cupping my clothed pussy with his fingers tracing small circles, “Spit it out, you’re already soaked”

“Please” I whine.

“Please what?” He asks.

“Fuck sakes Matt. Touch me please” I grumble.

“There you go, wasn’t so hard to use your words was it sweetheart?” He replies.

His hand moves under my panties, his fingers now rubbing circles on my clit, as I let out of moan. My legs spread wider as I feel his fingers move towards my entrance, tracing circles around it.

“I - Matt” I whimper.

“Yeah? Tell me what you want” He says.

“Stop teasing” I whine, my core aching for his fingers to be inside of me.

“Mm but you sound so good begging for me, like a desperate whore” He replies.

“Please I need it” I again whine, his teasing driving me insane.

“Always knew you were a little whore” He responds before pushing two fingers inside of me, curling them slightly.

“Oh my god” I moan.

He says something that I couldn’t hear, too focused on how good he was making me feel and the growing knot in my stomach.

“Are you listening to me?” He asks, snapping me back to reality as he grabs my face turning it to look at him, taking his fingers out of me.

“I - what? What are you doing? Why did you stop” I stutter, the lack of his fingers inside of me frustrating me.

“God you need to learn how to fucking listen” He growls, his hand moving to my neck and squeezing, “I said you’re gonna ride me so I can see how good of a slut you can be”

“Fuck - yes okay” I reply.

I watch as he shuffles to removes his pjs and boxers, my jaw dropping at the size of him as it sprung out and smacked his stomach.

“Get your shirt off” He demands, watching as I removed it before taking both breast in his hand and toying with my nipples, moans escaping my mouth as he did.

“Let me” I beg.

“Let you what?” He responds.

“Ride you, please I need you” I whine.

My eyes follow his hand, watching him spit on it before starting to jerk himself off.

“You think you deserve to? I could just keep getting myself off instead” He says.

Almost mesmerized as I watch his hand move up and down, my pussy throbbing for him, I manage to choke out, “Matt fuck come on”

He smirks before replying, “So needy, get on”

Moving so he was lined up with my entrance, I begin lowering myself, wincing as my pussy stretched due to his size.

“You can take it, don’t pretend you can’t” He says.

My hands on his lower stomach for support, a growl leaves his mouth, and a moan from mine as he’s fully inside of me. Moving myself up and down, my pace fastening as I continued I watched as his eyes repeatedly trailed up and down my body.

“Fuck me you really are a whore” He groans, “So fucking tight”

“Feels - feels so good” I whimper.

My pleasure only increases as Matt begins to thrust his hips up, matching my pace and meeting with mine each time I went back down.

“Matt fuck I’m going to come” I whine, his dick hitting my g-spot and sending shivers down my spine.

“Not yet you’re not” He says.

“What?” I reply.

“You’re gonna wait till I do” He groans, thrusting his hips harder now.

“I can’t hold it” I whimper.

“You can and you will” He says.

A whimper falls from my mouth as my head falls back, using everything in me to follow his instructions. The continuous sensation of his dick slamming into me making it nearly impossible to control myself.

“Oh fuck, fuck I’m coming don’t even think about stopping” Matt growls, his eyes squeezing shut as I feel him release into me, the sight only making it harder to not come.

“Please” I beg, unsure if I could even hold myself back any longer.

“Such a whore, needing to come so badly” He groans, “Come for me”

Moans flow from my mouth as my climax takes over, my legs quickly growing weak as pleasure consumes my body. My body going limp as my high came to an end. Lifting myself up off of him and basically collapsing onto the bed.

“That was -“ I begin.

“So good” He finishes my sentence for me, “I’ve never doubted for a second that I could have you begging for me”

“Jesus Christ you couldn’t just not be cocky for 5 minutes?” I mumble.

“Nope, it’s in my nature” He shrugs.

“Fuck you’re so annoying” I say.

“You didn’t seem to think I was annoying when you were moaning out my name and begging to come” He smirked.

“Yeah well you are now” I reply.

“Whatever you say, just wait, I’ll have you begging again soon”

TAGLIST: @sturnphilia @thatonekid536 @loveesiren @daddyslilchickenfingers @christinarowie332 @ilovemattsturn @its-jennarose @lovingsturniolo @iwantmattsobad @secret-sturniolo @soursturniolo @knowingnothingnoel @mwah0mwah @urmyslxt

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fic #matthew sturniolo #matt x fem reader #matt x reader #solo triplets x reader #sub!reader #dom!matt

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

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König x Petite Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Non-Explicit Implications of Sexual Content, Petite Reader, Size Kink, Jealous König, Insecure König, Implied 141 x Reader, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

A/N: Forgot that I'd already written this once before, so here we are with more König x Petite Reader Headcanons ! Just see this as some extra content for our beloved König and his smol s/o <3

When it comes to you, this man is F E R A L

Genuinely cannot believe how perfect you are.

Constantly jokes about how he could fit you in the palm of his hand.

And once, to shut him up, you proved him right by sitting on his open hand when he wasn’t expecting it and gave him a smug look.

“There,” you said, folding your arms over your chest. “You can fit me in your palm.”

König tried not to think of how close he was to your special parts, how warm you felt on him.

He had to disappear to the bathroom for a few minutes afterwards, and when he returned, his face was flushed and he could barely look you in the eye.

He’s never been the same after that. Any trace of a size kink he had before has been amplified to such an extent that he’s taken to hiding your clothes so you’ll have to wear his.

And he just can’t keep his hands off you whenever you do.

“My my, Engel,” he says, one hand sliding around your waist and pulling you closer to him, the other drawing the hem of his shirt further and further up your thighs.

“What could you be hiding under here ?”

Calls you his Mini Maus.

“Because you’re just so tiny and precious !” he gushes.

And since you’re so small compared to him, he treats you as if you’re fragile, like an endangered species of flower.

Concerning intimacy at the beginning of your relationship, König was concerned that he was too big for you.

But, when you put his mind at ease (and challenge him) – “I bet I can take you, Köni~” – you’re in for it.

König’s fighting spirit won’t let you off easy.

When he’s feeling more dominant, he bunches your wrists into one of his hands while he sits on top of you, his other hand slipping beneath your (his) shirt and slithering round the band of your underwear.

“Pretty little thing,” he says, a dangerous smile at his lips. “All weak and defenseless.” He leans down, his eyes dark and wild. “Just for me.”

If you try to struggle (consensually), he’ll smack you through your underwear. And not gently, either.

“Don’t test me, Mini,” he says, his grip about your wrists tightening. “You don’t know what I’m like when I’m angry.”

He loooooves fitting his hands around your waist.

Especially when he finds that his hands wrap around your middle and his fingers touch.

Size kink: upgraded.

He gets lowkey jealous if you ask someone else to reach something for you.

Will sulk about it.

“I just don’t see why you had to ask Ghost to get it for you,” he’ll say, frowning as he lies in bed.

You sigh, putting your book down.

“König, you weren’t even here !” you say. “And I was starving !”

König knows he’s being unreasonable, but he can’t help but feel like he can be easily replaced.

Especially when he knows the rest of the 141 would gladly drop everything to be with you.

He’s not stupid, he’s seen the way they look at you.

A few minutes alone together and a kind word – “You’re so perfect, Köni~ My big, big boy,” – will set him straight.

Loves showing you off to his friends. His acquaintances aren’t safe, either.

He’ll stand you before him and show you off to his associates like: ”Look, this is my partner ! Aren’t they beautiful ?!”

So help him god if anyone tries to show you up or disagree.

You’ll never see them again.

And neither will anyone else.

König loves you more than life itself, and regardless of his insecurities or your unwavering ability to have anyone you could ever want, he’s glad you chose him <3

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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iburnedmyselfalive · 2 months

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SEX THERAPIST.

nsfw! -- lowkey got the idea from some wattpad book i read a couple years ago LMAOAOA someone lmk what its called if yk what im talking about.

this was so rushed, but I wanna make more parts to this soooooo, should I ?? + not proofread sorry for any mistakes

Over the past few weeks, challenges have emerged in your relationship with your boyfriend, including a sexual issue. A friend suggested seeking the help of a relationship therapist, specifically a sex therapist.

Following this advice, both of you attended therapy sessions, which have been generally positive. The sessions have been conducted by Mr. Skywalker, and you couldn't help but notice his flawlessly attractive presence.

Today, Mr. Skywalker invited you to a session alone, as your boyfriend was away on a work trip and couldn't attend. Despite the familiarity of being in therapy sessions with your boyfriend, you found yourself unexpectedly nervous about being in Mr. Skywalker's office alone.

This uneasiness contrasted with the usual sessions where he sometimes appeared agitated when you had discussed certain relationship issues.

You subtly pushed open the door to his office, finding him absorbed in his laptop. His intense gaze lifted as he noticed your entrance, and he grunted, "Good to see you," shutting his laptop without breaking eye contact.

Taking a seat across from him, you couldn't help but feel a mix of intimidation and attraction as his penetrating eyes swept over you, especially when they almost hungrily traced the lines of your pretty skirt.

"Hey," you greeted, adjusting yourself and placing your purse aside.

"How are you today?" he inquired, the discussion soon shifting towards your boyfriend, and he cut right to the chase.

"Any differences?" he demanded, a hint of authority in his tone. "Or just the same?"

With a sigh, you reluctantly nodded, "Just the same."

"hm, I see, today, we're going to try something" he declared, taking a pause before continuing, "different from our usual sessions,"

"Alright?" he asked, his gaze holding yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

And with that, you nodded.

"Now, hun, you know better than that, use your words," he advised, raising his eyebrows with a subtle challenge, making you gulp at the underlying intensity.

Despite the unease, you nodded again, confirming, "Yes, it's alright."

He nodded in approval, a sly smile playing on his lips. "There we go, that's better," he cooed.

You struggled to maintain composure as he rose slowly from his seat.

Fuck, he looked too good.

It felt almost wrong to acknowledge, but he exuded a captivating mix of intimidation and raw appeal. Giving you a piercing look, he wordlessly gestured for you to stand.

You complied, standing mere inches from him, reveling in the sizzling height difference that fueled your desires.

"Relax, you're nervous," he spoke in a low, commanding tone, his massive, yet surprisingly gentle hand tracing along your shoulder.

"Remember the breathing activities Nadia taught you?" he questioned, referencing a previous therapist.

You nodded.

"I want you to do those for me right now," he demanded, and you obeyed.

Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, you followed the practiced routine. Anakin's intense presence lingered, making your transformation into a calmer state palpable to both him and yourself.

"Good," he cooed, a low rumble in his voice.

"Very good," he continued, his unwavering gaze fixed on yours.

"You mentioned that when he touches you, he tends to rush things and doesn't take his time, right?" Anakin inquired.

You nearly choked on your words, but you managed to nod. "Yes, he rushes it," you concurred, and he nodded, trailing his fingers down your shoulders.

"You don't like that," he stated, and you just shrugged.

"If you want my help, you're going to have to talk to me," he asserted, his tone firm.

"So, I'm going to ask you again. You don't like it, correct?" he demanded, and without hesitation, you responded, "yes, It's not even enjoyable for me now," you explained, having this weird feeling inside of you.

Your eyes threatened to lose focus as his commanding lips left a trail of kisses along your neck.

"He doesn't get you squirming like this, does he?" he demanded, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

"He doesn't even bother to kiss me," you breathlessly responded, almost whimpering when Anakin abruptly halted his assault on your neck. Gripping your face with his two hands, he sneered, "Well, it's his loss."

Before you could fully process his words, he forcefully pulled you into a fervent kiss, his tongue asserting dominance while his hands explored your body. In response, your hands navigated the contours of his physique. Standing on your toes, you seized his shirt, pulling him in for more.

"I'm going to teach you," he growled between kisses, his voice dripping with intimidation and promise.

"I'm going to show you what it truly means to feel good."

He was making his intentions unmistakably clear.

You offered no resistance, the unfamiliar sensations captivating you entirely. A low whimper escaped your lips as you looked up at him with pleading eyes, your voice adopting a desperate tone.

"Do whatever you want to me, please," you begged.

In response, a grin spread across his face, his gaze growing more intense. He effortlessly lifted you, carrying you to his desk and placing you on the edge without a care for the paperwork that might have fallen.

Unconcerned about the potential mess, he kissed you again, deliberately slow and enticing, leaving you craving more as his lips reluctantly pulled away. Descending to your neck, he gradually knelt on the ground, spreading your legs apart.

Inhaling your scent, he groaned as his fingers teased the material of your skirt.

"Cute," he murmured before his tongue traced over your damp panties.

"He's never made you this wet, has he? This all f'me?" he cooed, and with a whimper, you nodded. Your hands tangled in his hair as his tongue continued to trace circles over your panties.

"Raise your hips for me, baby," he murmured, standing up slightly. Complying, you lifted your hips, allowing him to smoothly pull down both your skirt and panties, discarding them carelessly on the floor.

Returning to his previous position on his knees, he watched you with an intensity that left you feeling exposed.

Shyly attempting to close your legs, he intervened without hesitation, forcefully parting them. Biting his lip at the revealing sight before him, his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge.

He planted a couple of kisses on your inner thighs before his tongue skillfully lapped over your drenched core. His eyes remained locked onto yours, never wavering for a second, intensifying the heat of the moment.

Your body quivered at his sudden actions, and soon enough, he began sucking at your clit, causing your head to arch back in pleasure.

"fuck ani, 's good" you cried out, legs shaking from how good it was, how good he was.

He never let anyone refer to him with the nickname, 'ani', but an exception was made for you.

"Louder," he demanded, and you complied, moaning and whimpering in response to his skilled ministrations.

Your breath caught as you almost moaned at the sight of his chin glistening with your arousal. His nose grazing your clit with each rhythmic motion elicited loud moans from you. His unyielding grip on your thighs persisted, and he skillfully positioned you to allow the subtlest rocking of your hips back and forth.

"oh my gosh" you cried out, your hand clutching the lamp on his desk for dear life as your legs trembled uncontrollably.

"mmm," he cooed, continuing to suck on your clit. "Such a good pussy this is," he murmured appreciatively.

"Want all your damn juices in my mouth. Come on, baby, cum," he grunted, and with those words, and his absolute torture going on with your cunt, you made a mess all over his face.

He persisted in his relentless actions even after you reached your peak, a smirk playing on his lips as he finally stood up. Grabbing your trembling hand, he guided it over to the bulge in his pants.

"Feelin' me, baby?" he sneered, and with a pout, you nodded.

"Where do you want this, here, hm?" he taunted, using his other hand to press down on your lower stomach.

Again, you nodded.

"Yes, please," you begged, and he chuckled, a menacing tone underscoring the sound.

Sealing his lips to yours, he tasted you through the kiss, reveling in the control he held. His hands roughly palmed your breasts through your shirt before pulling away for the slightest second to take off your top, following your bra.

"Off," you whined, eyeing his pants as you undid the buttons on his shirt. Soon, both of you had discarded clothes, each piece carelessly thrown around his office.

"Such a pretty pussy, been denied for so long, huh?" he jeered, removing his boxers.

You found yourself almost intimidated by his size, and as he brought it to your slit, he chuckled while deliberately teasing it against your folds.

"Lay down," he demanded, and you whined.

"But your desk, what if it—" you started expressing concern, but he cut you off.

"Do you think I give a damn about my desk, love? I don't give a single shit if it breaks. I'm going to fuck you," he spat out.

"I'm going to fuck you just the way you deserve it."

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thestarlithideout · 20 days

Text

A Secret Romance ~ Spencer Reid x Famous!Reader

Requested: No Requests are: Open!

Summary: Spencer and yourself are in a secret relationship in order to protect both yourself and him, as you are a world famous model, and the team finds out after you surprise him at the BAU.

Warnings: Fluff, picture taking, famous lifestyle (minus drugs and shit)

A/n: Moved from my wattpad of the same user

Your face lit up as your phone started ringing, he had promised to call when he could. He had been whisked away on a case just as you had to fly out to London for a shoot a week and a half ago.

You're a model, and because of this, you had to fly out to different locations all the time. Luckily, it had been slowing down. You were starting to pick up acting instead of modeling, it was what you truly wanted to do, but you never found something truly inspiring. Now you had, and you could stay in Quantico while filming. You just had to finish out one more week of your contract with this company, and off you went.

"Hey, Jerry, give me one second. I need to take this." You said after the camera flashed one more time. He nodded, muttering something about needing to adjust the lense.

"Thanks!" You rushed to your phone, grinning when you saw the little "S" you had put in as his contact name. You didn't at want anyone to see the name pop up on your phone and set out on a worldwide manhunt, interrogating anyone whose name was Spencer.

"Hello?" You answered your phone in a hushed voice, half jogging to your fitting room. As you walked in your stylist pointed at the hanger on the rack, mouthing 'Next outfit.' You quietly shut the door and sat down on the little couch in there.

"Hey," Spencer's voice came out kind of scratchy. You assumed it was because of the connection. He had to fly out to some rural town in the middle of Arizona. "How's your shoot going?" You could hear the tiredness in his voice.

"Good. Isn't it like two there? Shouldn't you be sleeping?" You teased.

"Yes I should be, but I wanted to hear your voice, and I didn't want too wake you earlier than you had to be."

"My shoot started at eight, Spence. I had to get up at six anyways. You should have called me then, I would have loved to get ready while talking to you." He let out a breathy laugh.

"I love you."

"Well I love you too, Spence." You whispered. "How's the case going?" He let out a sigh, trying to figure out where to start. You could almost see his face — pursed lips and drawn eyebrows, eyes looking out at some board he's been tasked with making.

"That bad?" You ask regretfully. Sometimes you hated your life. Felt guilty. You're out here taking pictures that people buy for thousands of dollars, while innocent people have to go investigate homicides. And the innocent victims of those homicides. "I'm sorry." You say softly.

"No, Uhm, it's okay. Just today, we found this nine-year-old girls body. It just. . . It really messed me up. This unsub is killing nine-year-old girls. Garcia was really messed up too. . ." You knew he wanted kids, and to be completely honest, so do you. You've talked about it before, and decided it would be best if you waited for even a little longer. At least until you've gone public. You really wanted to, but you also don't want Spencer to become a target for hate. He doesn't deserve it. "What — what if when we have kids," he grows quieter as he talks, "what if something happens to them?"

"We won't let that happen." You quickly told him. You wanted to reach out and hold his hands, to kiss his knuckles, tell him that you're ready to move in with him, that you finally can. That you want to spend the rest of your life with him. That you want to have kids with him. You want to tell him that right now. But you have to wait, you want to surprise him.

"I know, I know that less than one percent of kids taken are taken by strangers. I also know that because all of the people I know are FBI agents, it's not going to be one of them, and I know that the people you know are too wrapped up in their lives to kidnap a child when they could 'go have one implanted in them' or 'adopt a thousand dollar baby,' in your words. Though that isn't at all accurate." He recites everything you've said back to him, you've had this conversation with him multiple times over the last year and a half out of two years. Yes, that's very quick to start talking about children, but you've known from the start that it's only him you want and no one else. And fortunate enough for you, he feels the same way.

"Then you know that you shouldn't be as worried as you are about our hypothetical child, Spencer." You smile, though you know he can't see you. A knock comes at the door of your dressing room, "Hey, I have to go. I love you so much. You need to go to sleep before you die of sleep deprivation."

"Actually it takes much longer than just a day of losing sleep to kill you. One man in China actually died after eleven days after he stayed up to watch the European cup. Though there were other contributing factors of his death—"

Another rapid knock at the door.

"Spencer I have to go now. Please text it to me, I want to know. I love you so much." You rush out before yelling, "Just a moment!"

"I love you too." You could hear his smile, and then the dial tone that notified you that the call had ended.

"Come in!" You yell, throwing your phone down on the couch.

"Hey, Jerry's ready for the next photo. I'll help you with your next outfit." Leah pokes her head through the open door. You nod okay, and she comes in and unzips the next outfit.

---

After eight hours of more photos and costume changes, you're finally done and able to read the text Spencer sent you.

"There were other factors that contributed to his death, such as alcohol consumption, smoking, etc. So people aren't sure if that's an accurate measurement for the average person (who doesn't smoke and only drinks occasionally, like me)." You smile at the text, it always amazes you the random information he has stored up in his brain.

You, 5:32 PM: That's pretty interesting. I wonder how long it would take someone like you to die of sleep deprivation.

S, 5:34 PM: Well I hope it would take longer than eleven days, because I would love to spend the rest of my life staying up all night talking to you.

You, 5:35 PM: You're such a sap. I love you for it though.

S, 5:35 PM: I love you too.

You sigh as you enter your hotel room. You had to pack your things now, or you never would. You were flying out to Quantico tonight, thankfully no more shoots for the rest of the week. Which basically meant you're free from modeling. You smile at this thought. Your flight leaves in three hours, which means that you need to get a move on. You didn't want to be too early, but you also knew that you would likely be stopped and asked to take pictures.

It'll be a ten hour flight... But you'll arrive in Quantico at 11 PM. It's a mind fuck if you're tired enough.

---

It was hell getting through the airport, actual hell. The fans were alright, but the airport security was a bitch. You just wanted to get to Spencer's and sleep until he got home. Technically, you had been up for 24 hours. Got up at six AM London time yesterday, well technically today in Quantico, and it's six AM London time now. You were exhausted.

You, 11:02 PM: Hey, I just landed here in Quantico.

S, 11:06 PM: I'm about to take off. I'll be there in approximately three hours. I love you😘

You, 11:07 PM: I love you more😘

---

"Who you texting pretty boy?" Morgan teased, looking over Spencer's shoulder.

"Stop, stop." Spencer quickly turned off his phone, hiding it away from any teasing Morgan had to offer.

"Does pretty boy have himself a pretty girl?" Morgan patted Spencer on the shoulder as he walked past.

"What's this?" Hotch gave a hint of a smile and leaned over the side of his chair on the jet.

"I think Morgan just caught out resident genius texting a girl, 'I love you' with a kissy emoji."

"Hey! How'd you see that?" Reid's voice got high and accusatory as he yelled at Morgan.

"I was watching while you were texting her. Approximately three hours is when we'll be arriving, and I'm hoping we'll get to meet this mystery lady." Morgan confessed, making Reid's jaw drop.

"Y-you can't. Not yet." He quickly rushed out.

"And why is that, Spencer?" JJ had known something was up the moment Spencer had asked her to stop calling him Spence. When she asked why he couldn't do anything but stumble a storm. But what she didn't know is that once you and called him Spence, it sounded wrong coming from anyone else's mouth.

"Because you can't." He said, and buried his head in a book.

---

You walked up the stairs to his apartment while fishing for the key he gave you on your keychain. You found it as you came to the door, and unlocked it. You walked in, immediately basking in the homey feel the place had. With books strewn everywhere, the little wall that was actually exposed was painted a Sacramento green color. You loved his apartment. You trailed your fingers down the wall to his bedroom. You opened the door, and it was, as always, surprisingly more neat than the rest of the house. His books were stacked almost straight on his bedside table, blankets were messed up but it was welcomed. You wwanted to talk right into them, but you needed to force yourself to shower first. Get all of the gunk from the shoot and the Airport off of you.

You root through his drawers for some leggings you left a while ago, and a spare pair of undies. You don't feel like unpacking right now. You were just focused on getting in the shower.

You made your way to his closet filled with dress shirts, sweater vests', and adorable patterned sweaters. You pick out a purple one that smelled like him even after being washed and take it to the bathroom. You turn on the hot water, and undress quickly.

You step into the shower and the water feels amazing on your tired muscles. You are reluctant to, but you finally wash your hair and body, going over your legs once with a razor you keep there, before climbing out. You flick off the vent in the bathroom so you don't get cold but you feel goosebumps rise on your skin anyways. You roll your eyes in frustration and quickly pull on your bra and sweater, then undies and leggings. You finally allow yourself to sink into his warm bed, shutting your eyes for just a second.

When you open them, two hours has gone by. "Shit!" You exclaim. You need to leave now, or you weren't going to make it to headquarters in time to see him. You throw on some socks and shoes before grabbing your phone and keys, then jogging out of the apartment and down the stairs. You rush through the lobby, earning looks from the tired night shift workers. The doors swing open

You run out to your car and throw open the door, starting the engine as fast as you could. You pull out of the parking lot agonizingly slow, you don't want to get pulled over because you were spending on your way to a government building while looking like a wild animal. Okay, that was dramatic. But you drive as quickly as you could to headquarters. You pulled up to the gate, honking your horn at the half asleep nightsman.

"Hello, yes." You wave your arm at him as you catch his attention.

"Sorry about that ma'am. Identification?" You hand him your ID quickly stating all information he might ask.

"I'm here to see my boyfriend, Doctor Spencer Reid with the Behavioural Analysis Unit. No he doesn't know I'm coming, I'm surprising him but I'm there on his visitor list if you will so kindly check quick. He's here in half an hour and I want to be able to get him something from across the Street." The man looks at you with an exhausted face, confused but quickly types something in.

"Alright, thank you Ma'am." He hands you your ID back, and lifts the gate.

You drive through and find a parking space, then walk to the front of the building. You half jog across the empty street to the cafè across the street.

The bell dings as you come jogging in. "Hi I need one black coffee with a brick of fucking sugar, one blueberry muffin — the big ones," you make a big circle with your hands as you walk up to the counter, the woman was looking at you with wide eyes, "and one chocolate croissant please."

The woman turns around for five minutes, and comes around with your warm croissant, a blueberry muffin, and a steaming coffee. "12.72 please." The woman said.

You pulled out a twenty, and with a holler, "Keep the change," you were out the door. You rush inside the elevator as you quickly slowed to a walk, and jammed the floor number with your elbow. You bounced on your toes, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, and wished you had gotten a tray. Now you were stuck in the elevator with three items in your hands — one of them a hot coffee — and Spencer texting you, but your phone is stuck in your pocket.

The elevator dings and opens, and you rush to what Spencer has described as the bullpen, and you quickly find his desk. You set everything down on his desk, and finally relax, pulling out your phone. You sit in his chair, which you immediately have to fix.

S, 2:01 AM: Hey, I just need to drop some things off at the office really fast and I'll be right home after that.

You, 2:15 AM: Alright. I'll be waiting for you.

You pick at your croissant some, but ultimately you're too excited to see Spencer and meet his friends to be hungry. The elevator dings once more behind you and you spin around in his chair, watching as his team file out, each one looking at you with a different face. Ranging from smug, to confused, to startled, alarmed, and of course, recognition. A colorfully dressed woman stops, gasps', and squeals. "Oh my gosh, you're THE Y/n L/n. You're so pretty in person too oh my gosh. Spencer, do you know who this is?" She spins around and looks at your boyfriend. "Why is she sitting at your desk? OHMYGOSH IS SHE THE MYSTERY GIRL?" She asks' loudly. You smiled at him sleepily, and grab his coffee as you stand up. You walk over to him, saying hi to the colorful woman.

"Oh, God, Spence I missed you." You whispered as you handed him the coffee and wrapped your arms around his neck. His arms find themselves around your waist, and he squeezes you. "So much. I'm so sleepy. I got you a blueberry muffin." You say into his neck. He lifts you of the ground, handing someone his coffee so he can hug you properly. You had spent a week and a half away from each other, and you desperately needed his hugs.

You felt him smile into your neck, eyelashes fluttering against you. He sets you down, and hangs onto you for another second before letting you go. He takes his coffee back from an older man. "This is my girlfriend, Y/n, if you didn't hear Penelope." He smiled at you pridefully. "Y/n, this is Morgan, Hotch, JJ, Garcia, Rossi, and Emily." He gestured at them each in turn. The woman who recognized you was Garcia.

"Hi." You wave, suddenly extremely self conscious about what you decided to come in. Your hair was still half damp, and you were wearing leggings and an oversized sweater that wasn't even yours. His hand found yours and squeezed, reassuring you.

"I'm such a huge fan if you couldn't tell! Spencer I am so mad at you for not telling me!" She tried to sound angry but really she was still in awe of you.

---

Needless to say, the rest of the team loved you, and they were so happy that Spencer had found someone to be happy with. There was relentless teasing about Spencer having a type, something about this girl Lila Archer. It had hurt a little bit, knowing that Spencer had been known to have flings with famous women. But he had assured you that this Lila girl barely even happened. That he had barely known her and it was just the heat of the moment. It didn't make it much better, but you trust him.

Now you lay there in his bed, wide awake at three in the morning. You're laying on his arm, back against his chest. "You know, my contract with my agency is up in less than a week. And I don't have any shoots lined up before it's up, so I'm free for a week. After that, I'm moving to Quantico and I already have an acting gig lined up." You say, not sure what exactly you are wanting him to respond with.

He sits up slowly, "You're moving here?" He gestured for you to roll over, and you see his wide grin.

"I'm hoping."

"Would you maybe want to move in with me?" Your heart seemed like it lifted, and you broke into a smile, nodding your head.

masterlist

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer fluff #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds smut #bau team #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fandom

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cherryrainn · 2 months

Text

HEART'S HAND . (2)

; pairing ; husk x wife! reader

; note ; part 2 because many of you wanted one! (looking at people over on wattpad)

; warnings ; none

; part 1; here

the hotel hummed with its usual energy, but today there was an added sense of anticipation lingering in the air. husk had finally relented and agreed to introduce his wife to the rest of the hotel's eccentric residents.

as the door swung open, revealing you standing in the doorway, the room fell silent.

charlie was the first to break the silence, her warm smile welcoming the newcomer. "oh, welcome! you must be husk's wife. we've been dying to meet you!" and everyone else did the same

but it was alastor's presence that seemed to unsettle husk the most. as the radio demon approached with his trademark grin, husk's growl rumbled low in his throat, a clear warning to keep his distance.

alastor merely chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "ah, husker. always so protective of what's his." he turns to you "fear not, my dear, i mean you no harm. husk here has been quite the mystery, keeping you all to himself."

you chuckled nervously, sensing the tension. "well, he's a man of few words, but he's my man." you shot husk a reassuring glance before turning back to the others. "thank you for the warm welcome, everyone. i'm looking forward to getting to know each of you better!"

as the day at the hotel unfolded, you spent time getting to know each resident. from helping niffty in the kitchen to engaging in playful banter with angel dust, it was a whirlwind of introductions and laughter. however, as the day progressed, you couldn't help but notice that husk seemed a bit more on edge than usual.

in the afternoon, you found yourself gravitating towards the bar, where husk was drinking away.

you slid onto one of the barstools, watching as husk expertly mixed a cocktail without even looking up. his furrowed brow and tense shoulders didn't go unnoticed.

"rough day at the tables?" you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

husk sighed, setting the cocktail in front of you. "you could say that. some days, it feels like i'm the only one who knows how to play a decent hand."

you took a sip of the drink, feeling the warmth of the liquid as it coursed through you. "is something bothering you, husk?"

he glanced at you, his usual gruff expression softening just a fraction. "nah, just the usual nonsense."

you raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to it. "come on. i might be new around here, but i'm not blind. something's on your mind."

husk hesitated, his gaze flickering between your earnest expression and the polished wood of the bar. finally, he sighed, his voice laced with a rare vulnerability. "it's alastor. i've seen him do things, things that make me worry about you being around him."

your heart skipped a beat at his confession. taking his hand in yours, you squeezed it gently, offering silent reassurance. "i get it. but i'm not scared of alastor. besides, i've got you looking out for me, right?"

husk's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes softening with a mixture of gratitude and concern. "i'll always have your back, no matter what. just promise me you'll be careful, doll."

you nodded, returning his gaze with equal sincerity. "i promise. and thank you... for everything."

just as the atmosphere between you two became more relaxed, the door behind you swung open with a creak. startled, you both turned your heads to see angel dust sauntering in, a mischievous grin on his face.

"what's going on here?" angel dust teased, winking at both of you.

husk growled lowly, shooting a glare at the flamboyant spider demon. "what do you want?"

angel dust feigned innocence, batting his long eyelashes. "oh, nothing much. just wanted to check on my favorite feline and his playmate. looks like you two are getting cozy."

you blushed, feeling the need to defend the situation. "we're just talking, angel."

angel dust scoffed, clearly not believing you. "sure, sure. and i'm just a porn star." he gave husk a pointed look. "you're a lucky bastard, having a girl like her to keep you warm at night."

you felt your cheeks flush an even darker shade of crimson. husk seemed equally flustered, his ears twitching as he mumbled a half-hearted retort.

you cleared your throat, eager to change the subject. "uh, anyway. what brings you down here, angel?"

angel dust smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "i was wondering if the cat's got any milk. i could use a good drink after today."

you laughed, the tension easing between the three of you. "oh, trust me. he's got more than enough to go around."

husk shot you a look, his lips quirking into a small smile. "don't encourage him."

you grinned, playfully nudging husk. "oh, come on. let him have a little fun. besides, you can't deny it's nice having him around."

husk rolled his eyes, pouring a generous helping of liquor into a glass and sliding it across the counter to angel dust.

"whatever. just don't spill anything." husk grumbled, the corners of his mouth twitching.

you smiled, grateful for husk's willingness to put up with angel dust's antics. the truth was, it was nice to have some company.

as the night wore on, you found yourself growing tired. despite your efforts to stay awake, the alcohol had taken its toll, and your eyelids were beginning to droop.

"think i'll head off to bed. night, angel. night, husk." you stifled a yawn, giving them a sleepy smile before leaving the room.

the rest of the hotel was quiet as you padded down the hallway, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet beneath your feet. charlie's letting you stay here for as long as you want. what a nice girl, you made a mental note to thank her in the morning.

but as you turned a corner, you bumped into a figure in the shadows.

"i'm sorry, i-"

your eyes widened as the figure stepped into the light, revealing none other than the radio demon.

"ah, my dear! pardon me, i didn't expect to see anyone out and about at this hour." alastor smiled politely, though the expression didn't quite reach his eyes.

you returned the smile, your heart racing in your chest. "no, no, it's fine. i'm sorry, i wasn't paying attention."

alastor waved a dismissive hand, his gaze drifting over your form. "say no more, darling. now, what are you doing up at such a late hour?"

you hesitated, unsure how to respond. "uh, just headed to bed. long day, ya know."

alastor hummed thoughtfully, his eyes glinting with something akin to amusement. "yes, i imagine it was. i do hope you've enjoyed your stay so far."

you nodded, hoping the movement didn't seem too stiff. "i have, thank you. the hotel is lovely."

there was a moment of silence, neither of you knowing what to say next. then, alastor's smile widened, his voice dropping an octave. "i'm glad to hear it, my dear. now, if you'll excuse me, i have matters to attend to. good night."

with that, he stepped around you and disappeared down the hallway, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

the interaction with alastor left you feeling unsettled, though you couldn't pinpoint why. with a sigh, you continued on your way, eager to put some distance between yourself and the radio demon. shaking off the odd feeling, you entered your room and closed the door behind you.

the soft glow of the dimly lit room welcomed you, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the refuge the hotel provided. you slipped out of your shoes and climbed into the inviting warmth of the bed.

just as you were starting to drift off, the door creaked open, and in walked husk. his disheveled appearance and half-lidded eyes suggested he had been enjoying a drink or two himself.

"couldn't sleep either, huh?" husk mumbled, his voice rough from the weariness of the day.

you nodded, patting the space next to you on the bed. "come on. it's more comfortable than the bar, i promise."

husk hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room before shuffling over and taking a seat. he didn't say anything, but you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

as you both lay there in the quiet darkness, the tension from the encounter with alastor slowly faded away. husk let out a contented sigh, his eyes closing as he nestled closer to you.

"fuckin' hate that guy," husk grumbled, his words barely audible.

you chuckled softly, running your fingers through his fur. "really? i couldn't tell."

husk purred at the gentle touch, his gruff exterior melting away.

with that, the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the rhythmic purring of husk acting as a lullaby. as sleep began to claim you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of safety in the arms of the grumpy, yet surprisingly caring, avian cat demon.

#HUSK #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #husker #husker hazbin hotel #husk x reader #husker x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin #y/n #reader insert #x reader #ask #husk hazbin hotel

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svnarin · 3 months

Note

- so like maybe like a fic/drabble/whatever with suna when reader and him get in a fight and reader leaves to like cool down or sum- and reader gets hurt bad :3

idk man it’s cringy and wattpad coded but I like that shit 😞 feel free to decline! ((If rq is 2 weird maybe do a vulnerable moments with him))

Ty for reading ! (I dunno how to reqs I’m sorry💀)

୨୧⋆ ˚ — selfish

warnings!! angst, suna being a selfish asshole, open-ended 'cause it still ended in an unresolved argument, not proofread 😞

note! HI ANON!! this is actually my very first time taking such a request. tbh with you, i've never done that much angst and this is actually the heaviest angst i've done by far, but i hope this can satisfy your wants 😭🙏

FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

“where are you? i can’t find you in the stadium.”

you don’t want to reply to his message. heck, you don’t even want to open the notification at all.

it’s been three hours since the match ended and it’s been an hour since you left the stadium, and he just realized that you left just now? ridiculous.

you stared blankly at the notification until he sent you another one just three minutes later.

“y/n where are you?” suna sent you another one. “why aren’t you reading my messages?”

you were literally about to space out from staring blankly at his messages when your phone suddenly vibrated. he’s calling you, snapping you back into reality.

you sighed before declining his call.

“at home,” you replied to his message. “i went home early then i dozed off, sorry,” you added.

he immediately replied with, “ok ig i’ll go home now.”

you’re aware that his reply was dry, but like, that’s all? some ok ig is all he can reply? but at this point, you couldn’t even care less anymore.

around 45 minutes later, you were lounging on the sofa when you suddenly heard the entrance to your and suna’s shared penthouse open. you already know it’s suna. he’s the only other one who knows the passcode to the penthouse after all.

“why did you leave so early? did you even finish watching the whole match at all?” that’s the first thing he told you when he went to the lounging area. so is that really how he’ll greet you? it made you laugh dryly.

“not even a hello?”

“i asked you first.” he’s clearly pissed off.

“why are you mad?” you stood up from the sofa, walking towards him. “i was there and i watched your whole match. i know you lost the match, but you don’t have to put your anger on me.”

“so why did you leave after the match was over?”

“what do you mean? i literally stayed there for two more hours before i left.” it’s true. you stayed for two more hours and waited for him. and for the whole two hours, you wanted to go and still congratulate him for his performance, but you couldn’t. why? because he got swarmed by his fans, begging to take pictures with him and getting his autograph.

you tried squeezing yourself in. you loudly called for his name through the crowd, but all you saw was him taking a glance at you before returning his focus to taking pictures and signing autographs.

“you literally looked at me when i called your name after the match, you just didn’t bother walking towards me.”

“wait, yeah, i did see you earlier. sorry.” suna doesn’t sound sorry at all. “still, you could’ve waited for me.”

“rin, i tried waiting for you. i tried calling for your attention because i still wanted to congratulate you even if you lost, you just didn’t bother because you were too busy taking pictures and signing autographs.”

“me just only taking glances at you and not walking towards you as i was clearly,” he emphasized. “taking pictures and signing autographs is already an act of not bothering?”

“so their attention matters more than mine?”

“i did not say that, y/n. don’t make things complicated.” you can feel the tone of his voice getting sharper and sharper.

“then why are you making it sound like their attention matters more than mine? you don’t have to take pictures with everyone. you don’t have to sign every autograph they request. you always do this but you literally don’t have to do everything they want. they’re just your fans, they come and go.”

“wait, are you fucking jealous over the attention i gave them? when we literally live under the same roof?” suna laughed dryly, his words making your blood boil.

“of course i’m jealous!” you snapped, shouting at him. “we live under the same roof but you’re out almost 24/7!”

“don’t you get it?! i’m a volleyball player, so what do you expect?!” suna snapped back. “are you even aware that you’re being selfish right now?”

“wait, selfish? me?” you scoffed. “can you hear yourself right now, suna?” you pointed at your ear. “so i’m the selfish one when all i did was sacrifice everything just so that i could choose you?” you pointed to his chest. “when i literally left my family, closest friends, and career on a different prefecture just so that i could live with you here in tokyo to support you on your own career? when i literally had to skip work multiple times just so that i could attend all your matches? when all i wanted in return was the unconditional love that you promised me when we were in high school?”

the suna that you’re facing right now isn’t the suna that you knew back in high school. he changed. he changed after being a part of the volleyball national team. but despite the change, you stayed.

choosing him over everything caused you some damage. you waited and are still waiting until those damages healed. you know it hurts, waiting for the damage to heal for so long, but you also think that if you manage to get it healed, you can consider it as good damage. so, if you will leave him midway through healing, then all the damage will be just damage. but now you know better than this. you need to stop choosing him, you need to choose you.

all the things that you’ve been wanting to tell him just spilled as if a dam burst broken. you can feel tears now streaming down your face. “so suna, let me ask you again, am i the one who’s being selfish?”

that was the last thing you told him before picking up your purse and then walking towards the penthouse to leave.

suna just stood on his spot, silent the whole time. realization immediately kicked in when he heard the entrance to the penthouse shut close. he couldn’t move even though he wanted to. he wanted to chase after you, kneel after you, and beg for your forgiveness but he couldn’t move. he knows he fucked up big time. he knows he’s been fucking up for years.

𝐒𝐕𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 | repost, modification, and translation of my works on any platforms are strictly prohibited.

#⋆.˚ ��𝐕𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍 : 𝐇𝐐 #suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyu angst #hq angst #suna rintaro x reader

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eveninggstar · 4 months

Text

First Tattoo

Summary: Jake, your boyfriend, surprises you in a video to get your first ever tattoo.

Warnings: y/n used twice (sorry), horrible tattoo terminology, needles(?), fluff, no kissing(sorry ;( ), reader intended to be female

A/N l: Why is there barely any jake ff anywhere, like i even looked on wattpad. So enjoy, this could also be seen as a platonic thing ig between reader and jake except the end enjoy :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Please excuse my appearance,” Jake gestured to himself as he looked at the dashboard with the camera on top, with his arm draped over the wheel. “i didn’t have long, but that fine.” his voice went up as he put his hands out in an act of faux desperation.

The camera cut to him shaking a hand through his hair, attempting to style it. He paused and went to kiss the camera, then snapped out of it. “Sorry, sorry.” He put his hands up in surrender.

“Anyways,” he clapped his hands together. “Today, i’m getting a new tattoo and my girlfriend is getting one too. And y/n.” he giggled with his lips shut as he put a hand in front. “They’re actually taking forever, what the hell.” he leant forwards to look out the window for you and Johnnie. With the lack of the two of you, he sighed into the camera and lifted it and quickly left his car.

“Honestlay, mama bear ain’t happay with theyse two rascals.” He spoke in a southern accent and he walked back into the house. He walked into the house, hearing heavy footsteps and yelling. He made a scared confused face that slowly moulded into a smile.

“Johnnie! What do i wear?” You were yelling at the door of Johnnie’s room jumping up and down.

“I don’t know! Pink? You like pink!” Johnnie yelled back and joined you in jumping up and down. You two were smiling as you just continued to jump, you still in pyjamas and Johnnie with only one eye with his makeup finished.

“Guys!” Jake pointed a camera at you and Johnnie, both of you stop bouncing as slowly turned towards the camera.

“Ew! No, i’m not wearing makeup!” You ran off into your room with your hand covering your face and the other holding onto your messy bun.

Jake tilted the camera away from you as you ran into your room and focussed it on Johnnie. Johnnie just had a thousand mile stare as he slowly shut his bedroom door. Jake put himself back into frame and started singing, “Alone again~,”

The video cut to the three of you, ready, in Jake’s car. You had ultimately decided to wear a pink love heart halter neck top, clashing with both Jake and Johnnie’s outfits’ but in a cute way.

“What are we even doing?” You asked as you leant forwards through the front seats.

“Yeah, you kinda just woke me up this morning and started vigorously shaking me.” Johnnie looked at Jake then looked back to the camera.

“We’re getting tattoos!” Jake exclaimed into the camera accompanied with a wide, open mouthed smile and ‘happy hands’ in front of him. Johnnie reciprocated Jake’s ecstatic energy and you just looked scared at the camera.

“Wait, are you serious?” you looked pleadingly at Jake, terrified of the fact if you were actually getting a tattoo. He turned to look at you in the back seat, smiling and nodding.

The video cut to the three of you outside the tattoo parlour that Jake and Johnnie frequented a lot. Jake had sweet talked his way into you getting a tattoo, as usual. He had said it didn’t need to be big, a singular dot if you really wanted. You said to him that you would only get one if he got a matching one, wanting it to have a form of sentimental value.

“So, who’s going first?” Jake asked, both him and Johnnie turned to look at you. “The votes are in, y/n will go first.”

“Hold my hand during it?” you gave up on protesting, knowing Jake will just talk you out of it.

“Of course!” he smiled and pulled an arm around your shoulders as you walked into the parlour.

(i have no idea how tattoos work so just bare with please :) )

Sitting on the tattoo bench(?) you explained what you had wanted to the tattoo artist, just a simple red outline of a small heart on your hip. The camera was positioned over your head to see the expressions you were about to express. Jake was at your side with both hands wrapped tightly against one of yours, whilst Johnnie was looking at what to get for himself.

“Okay, i’m going to do a quick zap just so you can feel what it will feel like.” The woman explained sweetly to you, obviously seeing your frightened expression. “If you want a break at any point, just say and i’ll pull the gun off,” she looked into your eyes as you nodded, “Would you like me to count down?”

“Yes please,” you smiled at her consideration. You closed your eyes and waited for the fateful number one and the inevitable pain that would accompany it. Your face was scrunched up and you had a tight hold on Jake’s hands’.

When she said one, all you felt were a couple of deep scratches. The pain was there, but it was bearable. You face loosened up, still accompanied by the occasional hiss, as she did your simple tattoo. Then, she was done.

You had reciprocated the kindness and warmth that he had given you, when he was getting the actual tattoo he came in for that was by far more detailed than the small heart the both of you got. By the end, you were feeling good about the tattoo and that Jake had the idea of getting one.

The video cut for the final time, showing the three of you again in the same seating arrangement a couple hours prior. “So,” Jake said whilst clapping his hands once, “How do we like the tattoos?”

“Omg, i love mine! Im definitely getting more.” You smiled into the camera, having a definite change in your attitude towards getting a tattoo. As Jake looked back at you practically buzzing out of your seat as you explained more that you wanted to get, he had a fond smile on his face.

997 words

#jake webber #johnnie guilbert #jake webber x reader #jake webber x you #jake webber x y/n #tattoos

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loganlermanstanaccount · 5 months

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 10)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 9, Part 11

summary: In the morning, Miguel reminisces.

warnings: smut! grinding, humping, alcohol, PIV, switch-y behaviour (what's new), aftercare, mentions of depression. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: soft melty mig >>>

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 4.5k

Oh! and I finally made the series' playlists (very open to requests) <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

between your bodies;

You wake up with a headache and a lump in your throat.

Bleary eyes; and you rub away sleep, rosy and warm around the edges. Everything smells like him, is your very first thought. It's the kind of thing that has you reeling, tossing and turning in unfamiliar sheets before looking up at a mottled ceiling. Light creeps in from curtains cracked open, rays spreading like wildfire on everything it touches. Miguel's bed is by the window, and you can't help but curl up what little light spills in with your hands; palm upwards, slowly balled into fists. It's warm, and your hand feels a little different.

Oh.

Like a bolt of lightning, memories of the night before run up your spine; dancing up and down between the sheets. Miguel's hand in yours, his skin pressed up against you, a room spinning in the kind of way that seems romantic. Seems romantic; you note. It could've been the alcohol, but you had felt something between you two, yesterday. Something… different . Your cheeks grow warm at the thought of last night; drunken revelations and so much light, it burns.

I like the way your eyes scrunch up when you smile. I like the way you look in the morning, squinting at labels and cereal packets. You've got the prettiest lips I've ever seen, Miguel.

You burrow under the covers as you recall it; the memory of Miguel between your thighs, his head in the crook of your shoulder. The way he had half-laughed, heady and heavy and thick with want, low groans pooling by the shell of your ear. You're not too sure if you meant it; really, really meant it; and you're scared of what that means. Casual sex was the agreement, and you didn't think you had the capacity for much else.

Sighing, you stretch your leg out from under the covers, dipping a tentative toe on the rug. Bare, except for a T-shirt whose hem kisses your thighs. Mig's t-shirt, of course, and you tug it down as you slip out of his bed. The aftermath, things tossed off shelves and awards that had clattered to the ground, lies in last night's wake. Guiltily, you root around to pick up his things.

They're more personal than the things around the house. You notice a plaque or two from undergrad, his diploma - biomechanics and chemical engineering with honours - and even a certificate from a middle school science fair. The image makes you smile: little Mig with braces and a distinct frown, handed a plastic trophy in front of a spotty crowd. 'First Place' it says, and knowing him his entry was less baking soda volcano and more miniature Hadron Collider . If he's anything like he is now; he was probably a mouthy little pain-in-the-ass, too.

You take a watch off of the floor, half hidden under his bed. A knee brushes past a clear box; that jostles and rattles around like nails in a metal can. From vague outlines, you can see a box of junk , in every sense of the word: scrap metal, wires, plastic tubing. A whole scrapyard under his bed, and you reach for it, curious. Something knicks at your hand in the process. Glass, from a broken pane of a frame slipped under the bed. Softly, you hiss, sucking at the cut that draws blood.

More careful, now, you push the frame towards you, sweeping up the glass as best you can. In the lowlight, you can't make out much. Carefully, you hold it by a corner - an intricate thing, all twisted metal and brushed bronze. From out under the bed, you see it, or rather, him: Miguel, a little younger, surrounded by a couple of unfamiliar faces. A taller man, a much older woman - and they both smile in the way he does, crows feet and with the kind of warmth that reaches their eyes. In his arms (Miguel's, but not your Miguel) is a little girl. She is small; wide-eyed, gap-toothed; looking up at him, as if the camera wasn't there. The adoration in her face makes you smile. His sister, maybe? His brother, Gabi, and his dear mama ?

Gently, you place it on the side table. You sweep up the glass into your hand, ignoring the sting that spreads to your palms. It's not a deep cut, but you head to the kitchen anyway, in search of warm soapy water and something to mop it up.

Slipping past the doorway, it is deathly quiet. Morning spills in through a window, illuminating a lone figure - broad shoulders, tan and bare save for pyjama pants, hunched over the dining table.

Miguel doesn't seem to notice as you get closer, finally able to hear slight noise and chatter from a tinny phone. Cup of coffee in hand, you watch as he scrolls, replaying the same video over and over. From over his shoulder, you can just about make it out: music that had deafened you at the time, loops with a pathetic whine. A video from last night, it seems, and you recognise the icon of Lyla's story. Bright lights, your dress sparkling and a pretty little laugh drowned out by Lyla's - he seems to replay the same couple of seconds over, and over, and–

“Mig?” He jumps, leaping almost 3 feet into the air, it seems. His phone shuts off with a clatter, slammed onto the table. Turning, he seems guilty, before flattening his face into something more socially acceptable.

“H-Hi. Morning.” He clears his throat, giving you an awkward nod.

“Morning,” Softening, you slink down to take a seat. He knows, of course: he knows that you know, that you saw exactly what he's been doing. But you're both going to ignore it, let it settle in the gaps between you - a gap that quickly shrinks, he notes.

The chair drags across the floor, almost catching at a rug on the wooden slats. When you seat yourself by him; closer, closer, oh-so close; you can't help but brush your legs to his, addicted to the way it makes him shiver. Payback, you think, grabbing at his mug and stealing a sip before he can say anything. For all the times he's fucked with your head.

Miguel knows better than to protest, crossing his arms resolutely. He sighs - not maliciously, but with a tinge of defeat. You're too pretty, and too close for him to think properly; to even muster up the energy to argue. And so he doesn't, opting to chew at the inside of his cheek.

“ Hey .” You say, hand coming up to cheekbone, stroking at it with your thumb. Miguel tries not to lean into it, to melt into the touch. “ Careful. Where'd you go?”

It makes him laugh, bitterly, ruefully - whatever you want to call it. Where'd you go? And you say it like you've got an inkling of all the shit that goes on in his head. He goes to the same place he always seems to be, these days. Somewhere that reminds him of you , of your nights together, of your nights apart–

“Did you sleep well?” You're asking, and it takes him a second to process it.

“Sure.” Shrugging, he lies, and you pretend to believe him. “Long night, I suppose.”

When he picks that moment to look at you, to bore into your soul, you take your hand away; feeling naked , feeling bare .

“What about you? Did you sleep well?”

And you hum, non-committal, in response.

“Can’t remember much.” It’s a bold-faced lie, and he knows it.

He chews at his lips, eyes dragged down to your figure. He’s shameless, lashes fluttering before he sighs - with the kind of tiredness that rattles at his chest - scratching at a 5 o’clock shadow.

He’s pinching at the bridge of his nose like he’s battling a headache - and losing miserably. Miguel; your Miguel, this time; looks so pathetic, with the countenance of a wet mop. It’s not a grimace, nor a frown, like always. It looks like melancholy - thinly veiled, bone-deep - and it makes your heart splinter.

You just… you just want to comfort him. To hold him in your arms and stroke his hair, to press kisses into the crinkles at the side of his mouth, his forehead: to be warm and soft and somewhere safe , for him.

It’s a compulsion you can’t fight, clambering over him to sit on his lap. His gaze flickers, pointedly trying to ignore you, but his hand rests comfortably on plush thigh. It sends a shiver down your spine; how tender his touch is, even when like this.

“I…” You start, tracing a hand to his scratchy jaw and gently tilting him towards you. “I remember enough.”

He can’t help it, hand travelling a little further up and eyes flitting to your lips.

“... Yeah ?” And it comes with an unceremonious squeeze at your ass, wetting his lips with pink tongue.

That gap between you shrinks even more as you press your chest to his, with a hand at his shoulder. God, his skin is hot to the touch; lean muscle that tenses under your palm. He gets closer.

“What are you doing today?” He’s trying so hard, forcing himself to look you in the eye - betrayed only by a pounding heart and a lingering look to your lips.

Coupled with the way he looks at you; kneading at your thighs, leaning into your gentle palm; it makes your throat close up.

“...U-Umm, I think–”

“It’s Friday, right?” He hums, head cocked as if deep in thought. “You’ve got… stats and lab prep, today.”

You frown. “Yeah, actually. How did you–”

“You’re always complaining about Fridays.”

“I didn’t yesterday.”

“I’ve barely seen you all week, sweetheart.”

“ And who’s fault is that? ” Muttering, you roll your eyes, trying not to show him the way it makes you melt.

“I listen.” He says, soft.

“...sometimes.” You finish, but it’s half-hearted. You know, he knows; he listens . He always has.

“I think…” You clear your throat. “T-Think m’gonna take the day off. I’m pretty–”

Tired. Exhausted. Ready to kiss your roommate if it meant he would look at you like that for a little longer.

“ – hungover .” He whispers, thumb stroking your hip as you snort; ready to bat him away.

Wriggling, his grip tightens, slotting you closer as if in a trance. You’re laughing, a sharp retort at the tip of your tongue, but his wry smile seems tinged with something else. It’s a something that makes your heart skip a beat – but it’s his next words that have you reeling.

“I’ve got the day off, too.”

You’re taken aback. “Don’t you…? I-I mean I thought you’re taking extra hours at Alchemax…”

“Nope.” Resolute, he shakes his head. “We’ve got appraisals or something, today. Upper management only. I thought I told you.”

Brows kneaded, you give him a look he’s well accustomed to. And Miguel; because he’s Miguel, of course; counters it almost immediately.

“Don't give me that … You didn’t even know I wore glasses until yesterday.”

“That’s not fair , Mig.”

“You don’t want to spend the day with me? Dios mio, hermosa.”

“Mig–”

Dramatic, he tips his head back, clutching at his chest. “Am I that bad? You can’t spend a couple hours with me–”

“Mig –”

“Just a couple, sweetheart, and then I’m out of your hair, and you can complain about me to–”

“ Mig! ” You exclaim, giggling whilst you nudge his head forward to meet your gaze.

“You called?” He flutters his eyelashes playfully, with a hint of a smile.

It looks good on him, you think; glad that he feels comfortable enough to finally let go.

There’s a gentle lull and he places hot palms at your thighs to hike you up even closer. You adjust yourself on his lap, watching the way he groans with his head in your hands. It makes you bold: the way he moves to clutch at your hand and dart under the lip of your shirt to press you closer.

A roll of your hips makes him purr , eyes fluttering as he rocks up in thin pants. Quickly hardening, he’s wearing a dopey smile - one you return as you press your forehead to his. He angles his hips just right, causing little moans to spill out from pretty lips. The hand at his jaw travels to the nape of his neck, tugging in that way you know that he likes. You know him, and that makes your chest warm: the way he purrs and rumbles as you touch him in a way only you can.

Roughly, he swallows, head tilted up to catch at your cheek.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” It’s whispered into skin, soft and barely-there. “What you asked me to do?”

Kiss me. Why won’t you kiss me?

Like something sharp and intense through your veins, the memory makes you shiver, leaning into Miguel so his clothed cock catches at your clit. Like this , you don’t want to look at him - you can’t.

Ask me tomorrow.

And so you shake your head, nuzzling into his side with a weak whimper.

There’s a pause so imperceptible you might have imagined it. If Miguel is disappointed - or relieved, or frustrated - you can’t quite tell. Unceremoniously, he latches on, taking large handfuls of your ass and sucking ugly hickies into pretty skin.

“You asked me–” He says it between wet kisses, sloppy and hungry and quickly deepening. “You asked me to fuck you .”

You gulp, hips rolling as you close your eyes.

“ Just the tip, you said.” He lifts you up slightly, rolling back plaid pants. He nips at your neck, all tongue and teeth and claws. “Do you remember now?”

He’s not even inside, teasing your bare folds with the wide head of his cock. Your head tilts to give him more access to that juncture of your jaw. A dry chuckle leaves your lips at his tone and countenance; asking if you remember as he does his best to make you forget even the simplest of things. And that’s the thing about Miguel O’Hara, saccharine-sweet, gorgeous -in-the-low-light O’Hara: he makes you feel so good, everything else falls away.

“ Fuck.” He heaves. “”J-Just the–”

Impatient, you shift your hips, slipping him inside with one delicious movement. You can taste it: pleasure , white-hot and building up just below your gut. Miguel separates with a wet pop, hands trailing up to rid you of your shirt – his shirt, you realise with a moan. Exposed, he eyes your pretty stomach and then the peak of your breast. He keeps you flush to his hips, right at the sharp cut of his v-line, tufts of hair leading to where you both meet. With the way his eyes flutter, you can tell: he wants to kiss you, slathering up your chest to collarbone, and then from collarbone to jaw. He gets close, pressing shaky kisses to the corner of your lips – threatening to break the promise you made to each other long ago. And God , with the way he pistons up into your cunt, you… you just might let him.

Then his hips shift, pubic bone at your clit in a way that brings pleasure to the burn. You’re stretched out, filled to the brim and then leaning back to press your forearms onto the grain of the dining table. Like this, his hands stay squeezing the flesh at the tops of your thighs; only able to watch as you take over. You use a bit of leverage to tilt your hips this way and that - eyes low, not leaving his.

“Feels good , Mig.” You’re whining, eyes locked onto his because you want to watch him fall apart - to watch as all his troubles melt away. “So good. Uhh –Always does. I remember… shit … remember this. ”

And you take his hand, wrapping your lips around his index and middle finger - thick and large - with the memories of how they felt inside you only making you wetter. Gushing praise as best you can, you slobber and slather over his fingers, studying every twitch and gorgeous groan that he gives. He pulls his hand away from you; gentle, but cursing nevertheless; alternating from slapping your ass to tugging at the stiff peak of your nipple. It’s your turn to stutter, hips jumping as you cum - an orgasm so hard he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from spilling into you. There’s blood in his mouth, he notes as he studies the way you look: beautiful, always beautiful; framed in the gentle pink and purple from a rising sun.

Miguel slips out of you, painfully hard. Still heaving from your orgasm, you lean forward to press his cock between your bodies: bare and gorgeously framed in morning sun. Writhing, you kiss his neck, trailing up to the shell of his ear, whispering sweet nothings.

“Want you to cum, Mig.” And you do… oh God , you do. “You close?”

All he does is groan, nodding fervently into the crook of your neck. Diligently, you wrap him up in your arms, crooning and sweet, carefully rocking into him so his cock slides up and down your soft skin. For once, he doesn’t complain, holding you just as tight.

“M’gonna… o–ohh ffuck …”

“Cum, Mig. For me.”

You’re firm but gentle, pressing your tits up against him and making sure his cock gets that well needed friction. As such, you can feel it almost immediately; hot cum slathered over your tits and body - leaving so much glistening on your skin.

With a rough gulp, he heaves, eyes screwed tightly shut. You can’t help it, brushing away stray hairs from his face, leaving soft kisses in your wake. And maybe, just maybe, you hear him sob - muffled whimpering and whining with every slight shift of your body against his. And oh . It makes your heart melt when you realise, still carding your fingers through the nape of his neck.

He’s overstimulated. It’s too much.

Limp, he stays wrapped around you for a while, muttering nonsense into your skin.

“ Sorry. ” Shakily, he says – like he even has anything to be sorry about. “M’really— fuck. I just need a moment.”

You hum. It makes your heart heavy that he thinks he needs to be ready now , that he thinks he doesn’t deserve more than a moment to process his pleasure. You want Miguel to feel good, you always have. But with the realisation that you want him to be happy ; to feel safe, to feel loved; well…

…it scares you more than anything.

~~~

Aftercare .

Miguel admits, he’s not too familiar with the term.

It’s not something he’s proud of. With many a one night stand under his belt - even, occasionally seeing a girl more than once - he’s never been too good at it. He’s tried, definitely. Tried so very hard to stick around a little longer, to stay curled up in bed and guide his partner through their comedown. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite come naturally to him - oft susceptible to a glass of water by the bedside and a gentle nudge to an Uber. That physicality: the cuddling , and kissing, the sappy, wholesome, relationship-adjacent thing? He’s never had that desire after sex, much too stuck in his own head for that.

So why does this feel… so good?

You’re taking care of him. He’s not stupid; knowing that your bedside manner is much better than his. You’re merely doing the right thing and helping him past such an intense orgasm: and that seems to come in the form of his head on your chest, limbs tangled up together on your beat up old couch. This doesn’t count , he’s convinced himself: all those rules and boundaries you’ve both come so close to breaking - a little cuddling doesn't even scratch that surface. And if it feels so good to have your hand playing with his hair, to ground himself with the steady thump-thump of your heart, then who is he to complain?

He’s just a man, he decides. A mere mortal, unable to resist that taste of heaven he’s been given - unable to say no . Absentmindedly, you’re humming some stupid song you’ve had stuck in your head for at least a week, now, eyes trained towards a cheesy soap on the TV. There’s a mug of coffee on the table - it tastes like shit, but Miguel is more than happy to gulp it down if it makes you feel better - hot and steaming as you tug the blanket so it covers him a little better.

Unknowingly, you’re lulling him to sleep - the very same sleep he’s been chasing for the past couple of hours. Tossing and turning at night, but barely 10 minutes in your arms and his body only seems to listen to you , for some reason. Traitorous bastard, he thinks, fighting to keep his eyes open.

You’ve cleaned the both of you up - even though he had insisted otherwise. Let me take care of you , he had slurred, and you just laughed ; that pretty, infuriating laugh, with that pretty, infuriating smile – the very same one he’s wanted to kiss off of you since the beginning. Weakly, he protested, following you into the kitchen only to make a nuisance of himself.

It’s like you're drunk, Mig.

In some ways, maybe he is. You had steered him away, and onto couch cushions. Which must have been quite the feat, he notes, able to control all 6”5 of his sleep-deprived, hefty limbs. But he supposes, yet again, his body doesn’t quite listen to him anymore. Only you.

Was it that good? Did I fuck the fine motor skills out of you?

He remembers groaning. He remembers trying not to be drawn in by that lilting giggle, covering his ears with a rough blanket. Most of all, though, he remembers the feeling of your body on his, slipping on top of him to dig him out of that heap.

Miguel? Baby, it’s a joke! I’m kidding, I promise.

He had poked his head out. Baby. He likes that, likes the way his name sounds out of your mouth. It anchors him to this mortal plane like a sharp hook, cutting through the brain fog and burying itself into his chest. You had clasped your hands around his face, steadfast despite his wriggling.

…Oh God, even worse. I think I fucked the common sense out of you instead.

He remembers wanting to kiss you. Your lips curled up into that stupid smile, clearly so pleased at a shitty joke. It makes him warm, thinking about it now. Or maybe, it’s just the blanket you’ve tried to suffocate him in.

“When did you sleep?” You ask, and he has to blink up at you to collect his thoughts.

“Late.” He says it simply.

That answer doesn’t satisfy you, and you’re poking and prodding at his face, gently pulling at slowly deepening eyebags.

“ No fucking wonder .” You mutter. “You’re turning into me. No more late nights, Mig.”

When he frowns, you stick your tongue out, gleefully watching as his grimace deepens.

“Or what?”

“Or we stop having sex.”

That makes him rocket u pwards, indignant. “ You can’t just– ”

“I can do what I want.” Slowly, your face morphs into what must be worry. At least, he thinks it does, not too familiar with someone worrying about him like this. “No more late nights, please”

You say it so softly his heart might break. He clears his throat of its cobwebs.

“That's not really up to me, sweetheart.” Thesis deadlines. Tutoring. Taking on more hours at Alchemax in preparation for a big event. Slowly, his plate mounts, and it takes everything in him to keep going.

“I know,” You settle his head onto your lap, now. Absent-mindedly, you wrap one of his curls around your finger, hand in his hair in a way that feels more intimate than the past hour, days, weeks spent together. “I just wish you'd take care of yourself better.”

It's not said to chastise him, and you don't sound disappointed ; not tinged with the same flavour of guilt that his mama has over the phone, or that Gabi has when he hits him with that deep sigh. It's pure, selfless, plain-and-simple worry. He doesn't deserve it, he thinks.

He looks up at you. Beautifully oblivious, your gaze is still pinned to the TV. It’s domestic, comfortable in the afterglow of sex. That’s what it must be: contentment and bliss settling over him like a warm blanket. The aftermath of being in your arms, of your body on his; purely physical , that follows the kind of euphoria that he imagines can only be found in a needle. Honestly, he’s still expecting a sharp decline, a rough comedown that tastes like regret, or despair, or deep, deep empty. It doesn’t come.

Always the pessimist, but Miguel can’t help it, really; he’s been chasing something just out of reach for too long.

“You’re gone again.” You say it so quietly he almost misses it. You give him a weary smile, hand clutching at the fabric that pools around him. He watches as you rearrange it by his shoulders, pinching the folds with a kneaded brow. Finally satisfied, you look him in the eye. “Like Ophelia. ”

He doesn’t sigh. He doesn’t scoff, or roll his eyes, or any of the half dozen ways he’s learnt to repress difficult emotions. Slipping under the water - the makeshift waves made of a ratty blanket - passive to his own suffering. You don’t say it, and he hasn’t even told you the half of it; but somehow, you see it . You see him.

He remembers the first time he met you. Thundering and clattering through his space; bulldozing every carefully placed wall he’s spent years putting up. And then he remembers the first time he actually met you; behind the sharp tongue and quick retorts, finding you watery and forlorn on the floor of your shared apartment. Beautiful, of course – always, always beautiful. But that time, the kind of beauty only found in a painting: tragedy captured in oils, careful brushstrokes muddied by time, by loss, by hurt. You’ve been hurting for a while, he thinks, well before any mention of shitty ex-boyfriends and missed lectures.

Miguel recalls late nights spent trying to still his heart, fixated on a sudden, betraying question that rattles around in his head. Are you like him? Do you understand ? Born with something missing, a tick-tick-tick of the count, radioactive and broken and–

Your hand drapes lazily across his chest, tapping and pointing at something on the screen. He hums, non-committal, the words out of your mouth barely registering. It feels familiar. It feels warm. It feels like nights spent on the couch trying not to laugh at your frustratingly witty remarks. He remembers holding his breath when your leg brushed against his; stealing careful glances to his side; trying not to stare at the way the gloom of the TV looks ethereal against you, snug to the slope of your features, cut this way and that.

But more than anything, he remembers wanting to kiss you. God. Maybe he always has.

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#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #rigor mortis 😼#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #angst #mutual pining

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fkinavocado · 3 months

Text

in which your husband and Harry’s wife dragged you both into a situation you didn’t want to be in, but as it turns out, everything happens for a reason

Loved, heard, seen- Masterlist, Author’s Notes & Warnings

Part Two/ alternatively, read on wattpad

Part Three (word count: 4.3k) - updated 21st Jan

Harry didn’t have the heart to leave the bed the following morning and risk waking Y/N up. He’d checked his phone, it was a reasonable hour, more than reasonable in fact. It was close to 12 and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in this late. He couldn’t remember exactly what time they went to bed either but it must’ve been past 1am. Even so, he’d surely slept well beyond his usual 6-7 hours on a good day. Recently though, he’d had trouble sleeping. Unsurprisingly so, it coincided to when this whole mess had started.

Y/N was sound asleep, still. She’d snuggled up close to his side in her sleep and he was happy for it; she looked serene, content, her face free from the sad look in her eyes he’s always seen her sporting. Harry would’ve kicked himself if he woke her up.

However, there was a situation he needed to take care of.

Something that hadn’t occurred since before this whole mess.

Huh.

In any case, seeing as he was just in his boxers he couldn’t risk her seeing and getting the wrong idea. He didn’t exactly know what that meant even, but he supposed he just didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, in any way.

So he reluctantly slipped out from underneath the covers and tiptoed to the ensuite, peeking back over his shoulder before closing the door to make sure he hadn’t woken her up.

The situation was indeed quite dire. He was painfully hard, and he couldn’t remember the last time this had occurred. Hell, last time he had sex he couldn’t even keep it up and didn’t reach full mast. He’d masturbated in the shower more times than he cared to admit, but since he couldn’t exactly sleep with his wife he decided he wasn’t going to feel sorry for himself over it. He just did it for some much needed relief; it wasn’t satisfying, but rather just a means to an end. All that pent up frustration was messing with him - his sleep, his appetite, his overall drive and energy to go about his day to day.

However, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this hard, not to mention without any intention of getting off.

He kept willing it to go down so he could pee and then brush his teeth and get on with his morning routine but if anything, it began to ache. He sat on the closed toilet’s lid and rubbed his face, sighing profusely.

“Harry?”

He flinched upright, almost knocking off the toilet roll stand. “Yeah? ‘Morning!”

“Good morning. Are you alright in there?”

Harry grimaced. Shit, how long had he been in there?

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, did you need the bathroom?”

“No, it can wait, I just heard you sigh and it sounded pretty miserable to be honest. I’ll give you some space if you want. I can go take a walk around the parking lot…”

Harry decided to man up. He couldn’t pee until his boner went down, and he’d already taken a shower before they went to bed. He just had to face the music.

Opening the bathroom door, he faced her. “Sorry. I’ve got a… situation going on. ‘M afraid it’s gonna take a while for it to die down so might as well let you use the bathroom in the meantime. Sorry, I tried willing it away. Didn’t mean to make it weird.”

Y/N gave him a confused look for a long moment, and it wasn’t until he glanced downwards suggestively that she followed his line of vision and her own eyes widened in realization. “Oh. Oh.”

Harry watched her blush and wanted to bang his head against the doorframe. Could he have made it even more awkward? Surely not. She giggled and covered her mouth trying to stifle it which only made him grin stupidly. Why was her reaction so endearing? He should’ve been mortified.

But there she was, clad in his pyjamas, the sleeves covering her knuckles of her hands she brought to her mouth adorably, her flushed cheeks turning an even deeper shade of pink that he couldn’t help but notice matched her plump lips. Her whole face was a bit puffy from sleep and it was just too cute not to smile at. Her hair was a mess but he preferred it like this, all natural and wild. He imagined that’s how it got when she had sex, too.

Wait, what?

Harry winced. His dick literally began throbbing at the mere thought of Y/N between the sheets, her hair fanned over the pillow, her lips swollen from more than just sleeping…

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. You look like you’re in pain almost. It’s just that… I dunno. I forgot this was even a thing. Haven’t seen morning wood since my boyfriend in college, I don’t think…”

Harry furrowed his brows slightly at that. “Really? I get them all the time. Well. Not recently, I guess.”

“I guess I just assumed it only happened to younger men, I don’t think I’ve ever seen– huh…” Y/N seemed lost in thought for a moment and Harry knew what must’ve been on her mind just then. He hadn’t realized her sex life with her husband was that bad that they weren’t even having morning sex. That was baffling to him. Morning sex was his favorite.

Ouch.

Y/N took note of him wincing again and cleared her throat, “Well, I mean… what do you usually do? Does it just go away?”

Harry was back to grinning. She was too cute. “No, it doesn’t just go away… it can go away, but I need to be really distracted and it takes ages. Plus it’s painful, yeah.”

“So do you need to…?”

“Ideally. I mean, well… not ideally.”

“You mean ideally you’d have sex?”

Harry chuckled at her candor. Here he was, trying to be sensible about it. “Yeah, ideally I’d fuck it out.”

Y/N’s gaze fell back on his erection and Harry was just starting to wonder why he didn’t feel weird about it but he couldn’t really follow his train of thought because what she said next threw him off track completely.

“Would a blowjob work, too?”

Harry looked at her incredulously, his mouth agape as he stammered trying to phrase a coherent reply to that. “... A blowjob? What, like– you mean, generally speaking, or–”

“Yeah. Generally speaking. But also, now in particular.”

Harry furrowed his brows taking a step closer to her. “I’m trying really hard not to misinterpret this and possibly make it even more weird, Y/N. So tell me if I’m overstepping, but did you just offer to suck me off?”

Y/N’s eyes got impossibly rounder, or so they seemed to Harry, with her pupils fully dilated. Her breathing got shallower and her bottom lip was threatening to bleed out from how she was pressing her incisors into its pillowy flesh. “Would that be the worst thing, if I did?”

Harry’s breath caught. He was fully expecting her to burst into laughter for having tricked him into thinking this was really happening, or for her to recoil and assure him she absolutely didn’t mean it like that.

But she didn’t. This was really happening. His cockhead was pushing past the waistband of his boxers. Equally torturous and exhilarating at the same time.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing at all. Far from it. It’s the best thing I could think of, actually.”

“Not the ideal thing, though.”

She was teasing him. He didn’t miss the glint of mischief in her eyes when she said that, the tone of her voice.

“In this instance it is ideal.” Another step closer and their chests were flush against eachother. “But I need to make sure it’s something you want. That I didn’t somehow… make you feel like you have to do this. I wasn’t trying to drop any hints.”

“Why not?”

Harry searched her eyes. Fuck. He was ready to burst just from the way this interaction was going alone. Hell, how did he not see it before? She was so… right for him. Such a delicate, cute little thing. He’d already felt the need to coddle her, protect her. Take her away from the nightmare she was living. Save her, in a way, even if by doing so he was saving himself as well. Sure, he’d recognized she was attractive from the first moment they’d met. It was hard not to. She was pretty, more than pretty. But then here she goes and unveils this side of her? All… mouthy and impetuous? Borderline bratty? Like she was taunting him, teasing him to take over. Give her what she deserved. Show her how good it could be.

She did tell him that first night how she’d always wanted to be dominated. He should’ve known.

“You wanted me to drop hints? Thought you didn’t like that, Y/N. Thought you wanted someone who knew what he wanted and took it. Yeah? Dropping hints would’ve been such a turn off, isn’t that right?

Y/N’s gaze dropped to Harry’s lips and watched him utter all that in a different tone than he usually used with her. She looked transfixed. Like he’d just said something that had sent her in a trance, hypnotising her.

“Answer me, pretty.”

She couldn’t manage more than just nodding slowly, and he placed his index finger under her chin, gently tilting her head so that she was looking straight into his eyes again.

“That’s what I thought. Bet you wished you didn’t have to be the one to offer, would’ve liked me to just wake you up with my cock dangling right in front of that pretty face, hm? Or better yet, sinking it right into you from behind. Bet you’d have loved that.”

Y/N whined, her hand going instinctively around her throat and Harry gently placed his over hers, squeezing slightly. “I know, baby. I know, but I couldn’t just assume, hm? Glad you were so brave to tell me. Such a brave girl. Good girl.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut at his words, and he squeezed a bit harder, groaning at the sight. She was such a perfect little thing. God, he’d missed this. His wife was never one to be submissive. He hadn’t felt this dynamic since before they got married. He felt like laughing just thinking about how he’d been ready to forgo being dominant for the sake of his failed marriage. He’d been stupid to think he could deny himself this part of him forever.

“You are, aren’t you, baby? A good girl. Wanna show me just how good? Hm?”

She nodded vigorously, and he loosened his hold around her neck. “Big girls use their words, darling. Tell me you want this. Tell me I’m not pushing it too far.”

“You’re not. I want this. I want this so bad. You look so… big. Just wanna stuff you in my mouth, gag on it. Please?”

Harry let go of her throat with a loud gasp and grabbed her hand instead, directing it to his throbbing erection. If she didn’t touch him right then and there he’d fucking lose his mind. He was in a daze, his mouth agape, panting heavily as she groped him, rubbing her dainty hand over the fabric of his boxers- her watching her hand on him, her eyes widened at the sight of his leaking tip poking out of its confines, and him watching her take it all in.

He grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck and tugged, urging her to get on her knees for him.

“Go ahead, take what you need. Know you need it, not just want it. Practically gagging for it, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“Fuck…” Y/N mewled, scrambling to pull his boxers down as he threw his t-shirt off. When his cock sprang free in front of her face she looked lovestruck. The sight alone had Harry’s balls tighten up, he needed to empty them, preferably down her throat.

“Like what you see, pretty?” He was petting her hair at the top of her head now, his fingers dragging down along her face, caressing her in their wake.

“Harry… I need it. Please, please, can I have it?”

Harry chuckled darkly. “Generally speaking, or now in particular?”

Y/N whined at the way he was teasing her. “Want it anyway you’ll give it to me.”

“Fuck, Y/N. If this is just a wet dream don’t pinch me awake until you drink up every last drop, you hear me? So pretty on your knees for me. Let’s see that pink tongue now, stick it out f’me.”

Y/N did as instructed and waited obediently as Harry stroked himself - not that he needed it, he just did it to egg her on some more, and finally, finally, he tapped the tip against her tongue.

“Gonna treat it right, darling? Make me feel good? God, it aches.”

“Yes, please!”

Harry groaned at her eagerness. “Such a polite little thing. How could I say no to that… have at it, sweetheart, it’s all yours.”

Harry faltered at the feel of her warm mouth enveloping him. He promptly closed the bathroom door behind him so that he could lean against it, he was already weak in the knees.

Y/N didn’t disappoint. She worshipped him, that’s how good it felt. Alternating between gentle, feather-like kisses along the shaft and kitten licks at his slit, then vigorously sucking the head between her lips and pumping the rest in her too small hand. Harry had to will his orgasm away, he wanted to prolong this as much as possible. When she started going further down on him he braced himself, knowing what she was trying for. He cooed at her, encouraging and praising her constantly.

“Such a good girl, Y/N. Who knew that sweet little mouth could be so dirty, hm? All for me? Suck it, baby, just like that. Fuck, you were made for this, I swear. Want your mouth on me all the time. Oh, fuck, gonna take me down your throat, darling? That slender, delicate throat of yours? Will it fit? Can wrap my palm all the way around it, can’t wait to proper choke you. Fuck, keep moaning like that around me, you filthy little girl. You love that, don’t you? Wonder what other nasty things you’re into, can’t wait to find out. Just like that, gooood giiiirl, Y/N. Breathe, pretty. So perfect. Fuck, that feels amazing. Gonna come down your throat, final warning. Pull back while you can. No? Fuck, keep gagging on it, that’s right. You wanted it, so take it. Big girls don’t go back on their word, hm? That’s right, you’re my best girl, aren’t you? Fuck, Y/N, I’m coming, baby. Fuck me, you’re making me see stars.”

Harry laughed incredulously at the tail end of his climax, slamming his hand against the door behind him to find his footing. She’d sucked him clean, his thighs were trembling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten blown this good. If ever.

He let her have her fun, cleaning him up with gentle licks while he recovered, but once he felt confident in his footing he grabbed her, pulling her up to her feet and pushed his tongue down her throat next. There was no room for gentle, tentative first kisses. He devoured her mouth in gratitude, and she had no choice but to keep up, poor thing. He could tell her jaw muscles were strained but he couldn’t get enough of her. “Best fucking head I’ve ever gotten. Mmmmm. Gonna ruin that pussy. Just as soon as I recover.”

Y/N could hardly catch her breath. And Harry intended on keeping it that way, intended to hear her cry out as he first tasted her and then filled her up to the brim. He briefly considered taking a break for breakfast, some much needed sustenance, but it could wait. He felt he could go on forever with her. Couldn’t wait to spread her out and treat her right.

A shrill noise put a halt to his rampant thoughts though, and she flinched out of his arms before he could stop her.

“What’s that?” he asked, panting both in exertion and escalating anxiety as to what her answer could be. “Y/N?”

“It’s my phone.”

He grabbed her hand before she could pull away completely and turn to pick it up. “Your phone? The one you turned off? We both turned them off. What’s it doing ringing?”

“It’s… my alarm, I think–”

“Bullshit. Why did you turn it back on?”

“It was just for a moment… just to check… and then I heard you in there and came to see what was wrong, and–”

“Y/N! Don’t lie to me, not now, not after all that. Did you text him? Call him?”

“No!”

Harry was livid. He let go of her hand and she hesitated before going to retrieve the phone. She stared at the screen and let it ring until it went silent. He watched her pained expression and felt it stab him in the heart.

Of course. How could he be so foolish as to think she’d forgotten all about her husband. What, did he really think his dick would push its way far enough into her brain, erasing every thought of him? He was big, but not that big.

He rubbed his face, wincing at that stupid visual. He was such a man, especially after getting off, that he wanted to slap himself silly.

She didn’t owe him anything.

He combed his hand through his hair, pulling at the strands to get a grip. He then took a few breaths, willing himself to calm down, pulled his boxers and t-shirt back on and slowly approached her. She was still staring at the now turned off screen.

He gently had her sit at the edge of the bed, and he crouched in front of her. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I guess… it’s not a valid excuse, but I guess I just felt betrayed… we promised we’d go through this together, and I refrained from checking my phone. You’re absolutely entitled to do as you wish though, of course. You can pick up. Or, call him back, if that’s what you want. Don’t feel like you need to do anything on my account…”

It was a blatant lie, or at least it felt like a lie. He was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that she’d just been putty in his hands and the next moment she’s rushing to answer the phone to none other than her husband.

He knew he was being totally unreasonable, but he just felt like he wasn’t enough. Never enough. Not for her, not for his wife. He would always play second fiddle.

“Don’t be cross with me, but I need some air. Are you going to be alright? I’ll be back soon, I just… need to clear my head a bit.”

Y/N nodded slowly, not meeting his gaze, and Harry felt even worse but he grabbed his trousers and made for the door before he could change his mind.

Normally, he’d never dream of leaving someone after a scene like that, aftercare was sacred to him; but he needed some aftercare too, and she clearly wasn’t going to offer any. She was too preoccupied thinking about her husband. Which, again, was valid, but also, he wanted to punch a hole in the nearest wall over.

After what felt like not enough time doing laps of the motel’s parking lot, he returned to the room and found Y/N curled into a fetal position on the bed. He winced at the sight, feeling responsible for it, but doubting he was. She was probably upset over what she’d talked to her husband with over the phone.

“I’m back,” he announced, careful not to startle her, closing the door gently behind him.

She looked up at him and he could see she’d been crying. He grimaced and approached her side of the bed, crouching in front of her once more to be eye level with her. “What happened? Did he yell? I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

He hadn’t meant to say any of that. God knows what came over him, he just felt so protective over her that he couldn’t help these caveman reactions.

Her eyes glazed over. “He didn’t call, Harry. That was work. You can check my phone… I’m not lying. He… he doesn’t care I’m gone.” She inhaled shakily, a tear rolling down her face. “Doesn’t care I left him, wouldn’t care I just went down on another man… hell, he wanted me to. That’s how this all started, right?” More tears. “Just so that he could go ahead and do what he wanted guilt free.”

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew exactly what that felt like. His wife would’ve probably gladly watched him fuck Y/N’s throat, proud of him for finally going through with it. Not a trace of jealousy. Not a dent in her cold heart.

“Is this why you wanted to do it, then?... To try and get back at him? Give him a taste of his own medicine?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand on his pyjama’s sleeve. “What? Do you honestly think that’s why I did it?”

Harry grabbed her hand gently, caressing her knuckles through the fabric. “You know what I meant. I’m genuinely asking what fueled it… I can understand if that’s what it was. But I need to know… I deserve to know, don’t I?”

“Is it why you went along with it? To get back at your wife?”

“No. Honest to god. If anything, I never once even thought about her, during. Is that terrible of me? Does that make me… like her?”

Harry hadn’t meant to, but those words at the end came out without him even realizing he was thinking those thoughts, feeling that guilt. His eyes glazed over, suddenly overwhelmed.

He’d just cheated on his wife.

Something he’d never wanted to do.

He hadn’t been coerced into it, far from it, he’d been more than willing, even if it hadn’t been at his initiative.

So, what did that make him? A cheater? Did it make him just as bad as his wife?

Had he been “good” all this time just because an opportunity never presented itself before?

Y/N pushed herself up, leaning on her elbow and reached for his face. “Harry. Oh, Harry.” She thumbed his stray tear away and scurried to the end of the bed so she could have him place his head in her lap, caressing him reassuringly. “What have we done? We’re no better than they are, are we?”

Harry hated how it sounded out of her mouth. In his mind, Y/N was innocent still. He knew she’d practically been the one to initiate, but he also knew all that went down in her life before she got to that point. No, she wasn’t a cheater. She’d been mistreated, unloved, disrespected for so long. She finally did something for her, and she deserved it. And he’d be damned if she started comparing herself to their spouses. This was entirely different.

“This is so fucked up, Y/N, all of it. But don’t ever compare yourself to them. I won’t allow it. This is nothing like what they’ve been doing all along!”

“But you just said the same about yourself!”

“I’m not thinking straight!” he pushed himself upright, taking her hands in his. “We had the opportunity to do this back then, at the hotel, and we didn’t. Instead, we went back and endured even more of their crap, let them walk all over us and our love for them, and for what?! What we did just now didn’t feel wrong, it didn’t feel like cheating, because guess what- it’s not. Not when there’s no one to cheat on. They left us long ago, Y/N. We were just hanging on to false hope that maybe they’ll come back, maybe they’ll realize they love us and only want us. But that’s not the truth, is it? So why the fuck should we feel guilt over it? Fuck that. Did it feel wrong to you?”

“No. No, it didn’t. And I definitely didn’t do it to get back at him!”

Harry smiled at that and slowly, she smiled back. “I’m so glad to hear that. My narcissism can only take so much.”

Y/N giggled but then caressed his cheek longingly. “You joke about it, but I know how that hurts. Rejection. Feeling less than. Not enough. I’m in the same boat, Harry. I know exactly where you’re coming from. But you’re more than enough. And I don’t just mean that in the literal sense.”

Harry bit his lower lip to stop his grin from reaching his ears. He plopped his head back in her lap and let her resume caressing his curls, combing her fingers through them. “I know it may not seem like it, especially when I’m in a dominant headspace, but she’s really made me doubt my self worth, and not just in bed. I can’t believe I managed to push all those thoughts aside enough to fully enjoy myself in the moment with you. It’s all your merit. You made me feel so good and wanted, I forgot I hadn’t felt like that in ages. Thank you. It meant more than you know.”

Y/N bent to kiss the top of his head at that.

“You’re very welcome.” After a beat, she added, whisperingly, “You made me feel good and wanted, too. Whenever you’re ready, I’m still waiting. Make me forget, Harry.”

A/N: yeah so, there's definitely at least another part to this 😅😅 i just can't get enough of these two!

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

🦋follow me on wattpad to get notified whenever i post something new/update!🦋

#harry styles smut #swingrry #harry styles concept #harry styles prompt #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles reader insert #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n

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luv4-liv · 1 month

Text

❝First time❞

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: Smut. +18. First time (hers). He's older (only two years, but, you know). Unprotected sex (do not do it please¡!).

Summary: You and him have a secret relationship, because he is two years older than you, and in fact, he is your brother's best friend. So, this is the first time they have had sex, basically..

The plot of this One Shot is totally mine and my imagination.

I have changed my W account, so you can find this in Spanish in my new wattpad account (delicateew)

Remember that English is not my language so it may contain several errors, please be patient with me

And I want to apologize for being inactive for too long, just things happened to keep me busy, so so sorry:(

(that's not my gif)

____ was in her room, Theo sitting in the desk chair, reading a book for one of his exams, and she on top of him, her face hidden in his neck.

"Fuck, I already read twenty pages and none of the information stuck in my head."

The girl closed her eyes and stroked the opposite's hair.

"You're going to get frustrated and stressed and it's going to make you sick. Relax and go back to reading them patiently.."

"I have no choice..." she let out a sigh and continued reading the book.

Minutes later, she felt his hand fall heavily on her thigh, but she said nothing.

She opened her eyes as he began to caress her thigh, it felt like tickling, but strange.

She began to hold her breath the moment he squeezed it and began to sink his fingers into it.

It felt strangely good.

Theodore gritted his teeth, trying to concentrate on the book, but every time he felt her breath on his neck or her leg brushing against him, it was getting harder and harder.

He tried to ignore it but to no avail. Finally, he closed the book and set it aside, sighing deeply.

"I can't concentrate like this with you.." she murmured, bending down to stroke his cheek. Nott leaned closer, his lips barely brushing hers before he pulled back with a smile. "I really just can't resist you."

He kissed her slowly, placing his hand carefully on her neck.

He moved his hand up to her jaw, pulling her away from the kiss and ran his face to the side gently, so he could gain access and kiss her neck.

Theo gasped against her neck, running his lips along her soft skin. He tightened his fingers around her waist, letting out a choked breath when she tugged on his hair lightly.

His lips moved to her face again and kissed her.

She let out a barely audible moan as she felt his bulge grow between her legs.

Realizing it, he pulled away from her quickly.

"Fuck, I'm sorry.."

She denied, thinking about what he would answer her.

"I want to."

He looked up at the sound and suppressed a smile to look more serious.

"Are you sure...you don't have to, ____"

"Theo.. I really want to, I promise."

The Slytherin looked into her eyes, seeing that she was serious.

His lips curved into a slow smile. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and then began to unbutton her shirt, until it was off, revealing her bra.

He removed his own shirt and reconnected their lips. The hufflepuff closed her eyes, accepting his kiss. His tongue entered her mouth and ____ let herself be swept up in the moment.

Nott's hands traveled down her back, until they reached the clasp of her bra. He stood there for a few seconds until he managed to remove it, getting rid of it.

He knew she would feel embarrassed and insecure, so he preferred to continue kissing her to make her feel comfortable.

He got up from the chair, carrying her over to the bed and laid her down there.

Theo looked at ____ and slowly removed her skirt and underwear, after that, he unbuttoned her pants letting them fall down along with her boxers and moved even closer, brushing his member against her intimacy while he started to leave kisses all over her face, until he stopped at her lips.

Their lips joined in a deep kiss, with one of his hands he positioned his member at her entrance while with the other he caressed her cheek to soothe her.

Then, she parted the kiss as she felt him slowly enter, he for his part, continued to leave kisses on her cheek and neck as a way of soothing her.

Soon, he was completely inside. He was so careful and gentle that she barely felt a little sting, but it didn't hurt.

"You tell me when you're ready, my sweet." he said waiting for permission to continue or if she felt uncomfortable, to leave things just there.

"You can move now.." he whispered, trying to get used to the strange sensation.

Theo, without taking his eyes off her, slowly, began to move slightly, prioritizing that she was comfortable and felt safe.

When he saw her satisfied face, he began to increase his speed and intensity, but without allowing himself to be so rough or go at the pace he wanted, so as not to hurt her.

Still, ____ began to feel increasing pleasure.

She felt him going in and out so satisfyingly, it felt incredibly good, it was like nothing else in the world.

As it was all happening, she began to scratch his back, and somehow that turned him on more.

He with his hands fixed on her hips, spreading kisses down her neck and leaving several marks along the way.

Theo let out a moan of pleasure that was impossible to contain. His rhythm became louder and faster, feeling himself getting closer to the edge.

"Merlin, I love you so much.."

He felt her walls tighten around him and seconds later he felt her cum.

It took only a couple more thrusts to stop, withdraw from inside her and cum, dripping into her abdomen.

"Oh, Merlin..." she relaxed her body and closed her eyes completely exhausted.

"Oh, my sweet, you can't fall asleep like this, let's clean you up first." he said stroking her hair.

____ felt like sleeping a lot, she didn't know if it was just because it was the first time, but if she closed her eyes for a moment more, she wasn't going to open them for a couple of hours..

"Although I admit you look pretty all smeared with my cum." he laughed

"Theo!" she rolled her eyes smiling.

She'd had her first time.

And she was pretty sure no one could have done it better than he did.

#one shot #+18 content #harry potter #harry potter smut #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #slytherin #slytherpuff #hufflepuff #slytherin boys #slytherin boys react #harry potter oneshot #theodore nott oneshot #wattpad #lorenzo zurzolo

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randomshyperson · 6 months

Text

Sanctify - Cult Leader!Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Kinktober #06

Summary: After your worst semester at NYU, your Aunt Agatha convinces you to join the Children of Chaos as an alternative, and very expensive form of therapy. Leaving the cult becomes a very difficult task when you develop an unexpected affection for their leader.

Warnings: (+18), dom!wanda and brat!reader, rough smut, face-fucking, power dynamics, brat taming (ish), praising, lots of tension and teasing, definitely blasphemous on some levels, a lot of plot, mentions of past toxic relationship, unspecified age gap. | Words: 7.900k

A/N-> I’ve been dying to write something about Cult Leader Wanda since I watched the second season of Yellowjackets and became obsessed with Lottie Matthews, so while writing this, I was picturing Lottie’s cult to be fair. I also like how I ended this, as it makes it possible to turn it into a series. Good reading!

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Although the movement of the car brought a gentle breeze through the window, the weather was hot enough to actually make thinking painful. In an attempt to relieve the temperature a little, and perhaps escape Aunt Aggie's provocative reminiscences about the long journey and the events that made this trip necessary in the first place, you put your arm on the door, and propped your chin up, your face on the safety edge outside the window.

New York had been out of sight for hours and had given way to countless trees and a plantation further and further away. You figured it wouldn't take long for the radio signal to stop working, but to your pleasant surprise, the soft melody of cassette tapes hidden in the glove compartment by Nicholas were picked up once that happened.

Your cousin had grown up over the summer - His still youthful appearance now featured neatly cut curly hair and reading glasses that he often hung on the collar of his shirt. When younger, it was common to hear how much he resembled Sir. Scratch, his scumbag father in the words of Agatha and the other adults, not yours - but over time, he looked much more like his mother.

Nick met your gaze through the rearview mirror and gave you an assuring smile. You didn't reciprocate, but not because you were upset. Just because you were distracted by the huge sign coming around the next corner.

"Oh, boy, I've missed this place." Agatha commented with a nostalgic sigh, as soon as she noticed the entrance plaque. She slowed down enough that the wind wasn't enough anymore, so you returned to your original position with a low snort.

"There's still time to turn around." You muttered, getting a warning look from the older woman.

She leaned over, without answering you, to grab something from the open glove compartment. You pushed your hair back as a pamphlet was dropped into your lap.

"I know you hated the idea, but you need to trust your elders for once in your life, darling." Agatha began, as you grimaced at the crumpled paper. The title Children of Chaos was painted in red, but it was faded in several places. "The 70s were the apex for this place, I had a lot of fun here. It's such a unique experience, connecting with nature and the chaos that is part of us all."

Nick chuckled through his nose. "Mom, don't start your witch thing again, you'll scare her." Mocked your cousin from the passenger seat, but Agatha waved him off.

"She'll thank me when she gets there, I'm sure."

But you didn't do that. When the car finally came to a stop, and what looked more like a fancy farm merged with the forest took over your vision, all you did was crumple the Immersive Community pamphlet into your pocket and throw your old backpack over your shoulder.

Aunt Aggie and your cousin hugged you tightly, saying they were going to write, but they couldn't get past the reception desk since they weren’t part of the program. You saw Agatha take your mom’s borrowed credit card out of her purse to start your so-called treatment, and the last goodbyes left your tongue before one of the tutors started the tour of the place.

In between presenting a large number of different huts that served as dormitories and classrooms for the most diverse activities - painting, handicrafts or poetry were the ones you memorized - Mr. Emil Blonsky also took the time to welcome you, emphasizing how incredible the community was and how lucky anyone was to be there. You bit your tongue to keep from telling him that only those with money could.

Finally, Blonsky showed you the stables and greenhouses on the edge of the property, and on the way back to the rest of the huts, you noticed the path up the hill.

"And what's up there?"

The man stopped walking with a small smile. He was wearing clothes very similar to those of the other people you'd seen on the tour, the difference being a golden necklace with a strange symbol that was hidden by the movement of his loosely buttoned shirt.

"We must not go up there without permission." He begins, although he's smiling, there's something in his gaze that says this rule cannot be disrespected. " The Prophetess' Retreat is a sacred place of peace and reflection."

You look back at the hut at the bottom of the mountain, far enough away that you can't make out the decorations on the balcony, but still beautiful and quiet, high enough to make it look like the prophet had her own little piece of heaven.

"So, no bothering the boss without asking? Got it." You retort, getting a chuckle from the other at the summary. He starts walking again along the path towards the general area, but you can't help the curiosity burning in your chest. "About this prophet, will she be isolated up there or will I get a chance to meet her?"

Blonsky walks up beside you, and looks you in the eye to say; "You'll meet her when it's time to meet her, not early and not late."

You don't know what to say to that, everything here is so theatrical in a way. Mystical, you might say. It suits Aunt Aggie so well, that it's not hard to imagine her here, dancing to the midnight moon and talking to the trees. She already does that in New York, it should have been much simpler in the middle of the forest.

"Come, child. You must start the cleaning process soon." Announces the man as he picks up the pace on the trail. With a sigh, you decide not to contradict him by saying that you bathed before coming, thank you.

It was soon revealed that the cleansing process really meant a bath - the colleagues around you who helped you laughed when you joked that it was a strange way of saying that someone stinks, before clarifying that it was nothing of the sort. The Cleansing Process was a bath of salts and herbs, in a tub of stones and some kind of botanical baptism, the latter of which only members who had completed thirteen full moons could take part in. You would be invited to the baptism with the prophet's blessing, but there was still a long way to go.

Blonsky handed your uniforms, and explained the last rules before leaving you alone, or almost, since your hut was shared with six other people, and despite this, it seemed very comfortable and organized. There were bunk beds and private bathroom spaces, and at least three spacious shelves for each. The latter wouldn't be of much use to you, since you'd brought almost nothing and the vast majority of your belongings had been left at NYU. Just thinking about that place gave you a terrible stomach ache: You would have skipped dinner, but the mere suggestion of not attending made one of your colleagues frown in concern and repeat the rules, so you ended up giving that up.

The routine that followed was calm: it didn't surprise you that the new members were responsible for the hardest tasks, and it didn't bother you either. You were never afraid of hard work, and keeping your hands busy also helped to calm your mind, so it was a win-win. Besides, even if you didn't get the jobs nobody wanted, all veterans had chores. There was some rule about the amount of service time and dedication being rewarded, so those senior members could choose what they wanted to do first.

You didn't have to worry about this anyway: you would do what you had to do because, after all, the agreement was to stay here only for the summer. However, with each passing day away from exams, traffic, and New York's typical filth, it became harder to imagine leaving the Children of Chaos and their strange harmony and kindness.

After three weeks in the group, you learned to knit. You also earned the privilege of mail when you showed up for all your appointments without delay and decided to check the items in the privacy of your cabin during the last hour of prayer.

Since you hadn't yet found your faith or received your calling or whatever weird way Blonsky explained this, you barely joined in the prayer sessions. This evening, excited to receive news from home, was no different.

Aunt Aggie wrote about the store doing well and mentioned your mother, who didn't write to you with more than vague words about hoping you'd feel better soon. The best present was hidden in Nicholas' letter about the university being a sack without his favorite cousin. Wrapped in silk and next to a lighter.

You haven't earned the right to write outside yet - something about a month in isolation to accomplish. So you just clutched the items to your chest and wished your cousin knew how grateful you were.

Your initial intention was to save the weed for some more stressful day - which was rare in the leisurely pace of this place - but the last letter made you consider using it all that night.

The recipient's perfect handwriting, and the address you knew by heart. You didn't even open the item, you put it away in your drawer and stood up with the weed hidden in your pants pocket.

The common area was empty, as the vast majority of your colleagues were praying. You stepped up to one of the bonfires and threw the unopened letter into the flames, without hesitation and without caring to see it burn. You turned on your heels and continued along the trail, heading for one of the few more secluded spots you had discovered during the hours of exploring between tasks.

The rules were clear about the prophet's hut but said nothing about the road towards it. And since apparently everyone there was afraid of upsetting the boss, that spot was always empty and the perfect place to smoke in hiding.

You leaned against a tree, curled up and lit the weed, and tried to keep away all the painful memories about last semester that the damn letter had brought up.

You were halfway through a joint when you heard a voice at the end of the trail next to you.

"Good evening, Y/N."

"Jesus fucking Christ." You gasped, jumping with fright and almost dropping the blunt to the ground. You looked sideways abruptly, imagining that you were hallucinating because of the weed, and were almost sure that you were when the words escaped you due to the apparition in front of you. The most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life. Instead of a uniform, she wore a loose dark wine dress that hugged her curves perfectly; her long red hair cascaded down her shoulders and back and her emerald eyes shone curiously in your direction. The dim light from the fire lamps scattered along the trail and the moon really made the woman look like an angel.

You coughed awkwardly. "Sorry, you scared me." You clarified, the cigarette hidden behind your back a stupid attempt to mask what you were doing. Sure enough, your pupils were dilated, and it was very easy to see the smoke. So, as soon as you tried to hide it, you gave up, offering the woman an awkward chuckle and gesturing the cigarette gently. "Don't tell on me."

There was a soft pause, which you couldn't tell from the intoxication in your system. The woman watched for a moment as the charming gesture of bringing the cigarette to the smile formed on your lips and blew the smoke into the starry sky with your neck slightly stretched. Your mind seemed to clear, and before the woman could speak, you grimaced. "Wait, didn't you just say my name? How..?"

She smiled, folding her hands in front of her body. "It was premeditated that we met today, of course. I'm Wanda."

You've heard her name before, in conversation circles and in advertisements about her heavenliness hanging around.

"Shit." It was your natural reaction, which made her laugh softly, and it must have been the weed's fault that the sound echoed in your mind and made your body shudder.

"Don't worry, I won't snitch on you." She assures you with an easy smile playing on her lips, and you swallow dry, completely at a loss.

"Thanks... but I thought you were the boss." You mumble, and Wanda makes a funny expression, like a false realization.

"Oh, you're right." She murmurs amusedly. "I think I can let this one slide if you'll share it with me."

"Fuck, of course, here." Your limbs feel strange, almost too heavy to move around her. You awkwardly hand her the cigarette, certain that your face is flushed. Hell, the last time you were this clumsy was last semester, with-

"You swear a lot." Wanda's comment pulls you out of your daze. She takes a long drag before adding: "Especially for a Christian."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "My father's a Christian, not me." You retort, and end up grimacing. "And how do you know-"

"This is a very exclusive program, sweetheart." Wanda cuts you off again, the cigarette between her fingers but her gaze is completely focused on your face. "Having a lot of money or being someone's niece isn't enough to guarantee you a spot, but a good letter of recommendation might. And Agatha wrote me almost everything about you, except the reason for rushing to get you here before the next recruitment period."

The sentence was an invitation for you to speak, but you didn't fall for the bait. On the contrary, you looked away with tense shoulders, and Wanda didn't press. At least, not now. She took another drag before commenting more softly:

"We have general meetings every Wednesday. We encourage members to open up."

You grimace softly. "Group therapy isn't my thing."

But Wanda smiles lopsidedly, giving you back the joint. " Neither is nice weed." She retorts a little provocatively, attracting your attention. "If you want to try something new, show up next week. And if you want to try something good, you should try the weed from our greenhouse. It won't taste like crushed dirt." Adjusting her hair around her shoulders, she offers you a wink. "Have a good night, darling."

You think about the color of her eyes for the rest of the night.

-&-

Sooner than you'd expect, you'll discover that Wanda isn't the type to let things slide. Far from it, she notices everything, especially those who are being too slack and prone to not following the teachings of the Children of Chaos, possibly ruining their record of total efficiency or something.

She puts an end to your plans for a quiet summer, trying to go unnoticed among the countless other followers just as abruptly as she left her meditation hut. Wanda seems to appear at every moment that you consider escaping from your commitments - it even occurs to you that she has a particular interest in watching you, but the idea sounds so absurd that you push it away while forcing a polite smile before returning to your duties.

Less than two weeks after you met, you finally stopped avoiding Group Therapy and showed up on time to join the session. The presence of Wanda, in a loose dark purple dress and her red hair tied up in a neat braid, makes you almost give up, convinced that you couldn't say anything without stuttering in the presence of such a stunning woman.

But she offers a gentle smile, opening her arms softly. "Come along, darling, you're just in time." She greets and you stumble towards a corner in the background, begging the gods that you can attend in silence this time.

It doesn't seem so difficult when it's other people doing it. A young man with whom you've already shared the task of looking after the stables spoke of the frustrations of returning from enforced service with a missing limb, and how the support he didn't get from the government and family members, he found here. Bucky received a finger-snapping applause - something that was explained to you as a way to avoid triggers on the countless ex-combatants or victims of post-traumatic stress that make up the crowd - before giving his turn to another ex-military woman, Carol Danvers.

More stories were shared until Wanda's gaze fell on your slumped figure and she called your name. All the attention in the room fell on you too, and you chuckled awkwardly.

"Thanks, but I'm not good at public speaking." You retorted, but Wanda, with her hands folded over her stomach, gave you a gentle smile.

"Don't worry about it, dear, this is a no-judgment zone." She says, but you make no mention of getting up, and her gaze becomes more insistent. "It's important that we all make an effort to be present at these exercises. We encourage participation around here. Come along, dear, please." And she smiled so kindly that you could only trust her.

The group offered a small chorus of encouragement, and before you knew it, you were a few steps away from the redhead, who held out her hands for your wrists.

"I want you to take a deep breath and close your eyes." Wanda guided, her melodic voice bringing goose bumps all over your body. "Turn all your attention inward. And tell me, is there anything in there that you'd like to share with the group?"

The memories of last semester hit you full force. But Wanda massages your wrists and it feels as if she can calm down the whole storm inside of you.

You sigh, before opening your eyes. "I... I don't know where to start." Your whisper is met by another chorus of support from the members, who retort that you're safe. Wanda releases your wrists to sit with the others, and you try not to be so self-conscious while you're in the spotlight. "I think I can share with you the reason why I'm here." You declare a moment later, taking another deep breath.

Bucky gives you an encouraging smile, mimicking that of the people around him, and you swallow.

"I don't have a history of fighting and overcoming war or any illnesses, so I'm sorry to disappoint anyone." You mumble, receiving confused looks.

The former sergeant assures you: "No problem competes with another. All our pains have their importance." And it seems to be something that has already been repeated here a few times because everyone shakes their heads in agreement.

You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. "Right... well, I won't beat around the bush. A month ago, when I was first enrolled here, I had just been kicked out of my house. Well, it wasn't exactly my house anymore, because I'd been living on campus for about three years, but I think you get the idea." You say, laughing awkwardly at the anxiety in your chest. You try to clear your throat so that your voice doesn't come out so shaky, but only Wanda's gaze really helps to calm your nerves. "And the reason for this was a relationship that my parents, more specifically my mother, didn't approve of. To be fair, no one really approved, because, well, the person... hm, I don't think there's any other way to put it, was another woman. An older woman, and also my professor. And well, the whole thing would have been a scandal anyway, but I really let myself believe that when the worst was over, we'd be fine. Bad news, we weren't." You laugh sadly. You pause, imagining that you'll get judgmental looks, but everyone listens attentively. "For a while, I thought the worst part was afterward. When everyone knew and judged me, and how my mother freaked out, and I tried... but no. The worst part was not realizing what that love if I can call it that, was doing to me. How ill it was making me. And until I got here, learned things about myself, and managed to take a break from everything that was left behind... For a while, I really hoped to go back and fix everything, but now... damn, sometimes I don't even think about leaving this place."

The group celebrates quietly, exchanging words of encouragement. Your ears feel warm, and Wanda stands up again. "You can stay as long as you need, darling." She says, massaging your forearm. She calls someone else to speak, but doesn't miss the opportunity to whisper in your ear: "I'm proud, stay a little longer today, I want to talk to you."

And you think you haven't absorbed anything for the rest of the morning.

Eventually, the session ends, and as soon as the room is empty, Wanda turns her face towards you.

"You were brave today, sweetheart."

Your hands, busy putting the cushions away, tremble a little. But you offer her an incredulous chuckle.

"Yeah, right." It's your answer, which makes Wanda frown in curiosity. At her inquisitive silence, you sigh before clarifying: "Everyone's nice, but I know it's kind of silly that my big trauma is a break-up and not post-traumatic stress from war or something that actually matters."

Wanda presses her lips together, studying you for a moment, and you take the opportunity to put away the last of the cushions. Suddenly, she says:

"This lack of respect for your own feelings comes from parental negligence, I suppose." You turn your face away in surprise, but Wanda gives you a small smile: "James wasn't lying when he said that no pain should compete with another. We all have our internal and external battles, and we shouldn't belittle our pain. I believe we should honor it, and wear it. And here, dear, you will learn to do that." Wanda makes her way around to one of the cupboards at the back, and you watch her movements in silence, from reaching into one of the last drawers to returning to you with an item in hand. "I have an invitation for you."

She opens the box she's brought, and inside is a necklace very similar to the one the instructors wear. The main difference is the symbol, the crown that Wanda also carries on the pendant around her neck. You frown in confusion.

"What is it?"

She wraps the item between her fingers, her gaze on you. "The disciple's necklace. The last one from the current solstice."

You imitate the gesture, touching the item with the tips of your fingers. Wanda doesn't move her hand away as your fingers brush together, and you ignore your own shyness as you watch her bite her lip for a moment. "I don't understand what it means."

She licks her lips, and the movement doesn't go unnoticed by your eyes. "It means that you would be my apprentice. You would accompany me during periods of meditation, you would study my teachings closely, you would be... entirely dedicated to..."

"You?" you add, and Wanda lets out a shuddering breath, warm against your cheek. When did she get so close?

"If you wish." She whispers, and you pull away gently, your face hot but the last thread of sanity in your mind.

"I'm sure there are more experienced members dying for this position. It wouldn't be right-"

Wanda shakes her head, interrupting you. "They weren't chosen. You were." She assures you, pressing the box with the necklace against your chest. "And if it wasn't you, the place would be empty until the next solstice. You don't have to accept it, darling. It's not a summons. It's an invitation."

You sigh, holding the box against your chest. "I just... I've never done anything like this. I don't want to mess things up."

There's a bell in the distance, signaling the start of the next activities. Wanda glances outside briefly before stepping close enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth that makes your whole body heat up at once.

"Just listen to your instincts." She whispers, before pulling away with a small smile.

You write to Agatha about it the following evening, but you don't have the courage to seal the letter for sending. The whole conversation with Wanda seems too private to be shared in this way.

Although the woman said it was just an invitation, you could feel some pressure to make a decision, and it seems that the news had been circulating ever since one of the tutors couldn't find the box of the last chaos disciple pendant, and Wanda ended up mentioning that she had extended another invitation.

In a way, you were stalling. Between your activities and meetings, you hadn't made any decisions and you hoped that the end of the summer would force Wanda to choose someone else. But there was also the question of the new, burning feelings that had appeared since you first laid eyes on her, and which seemed to awaken every time you two were in the same environment.

The idea of departing, of leaving her behind like a closed chapter in your life, seemed absurd every passing day.

In your second month with the Chaos Children, you received a rather unusual request: take the prophet her morning drink.

The crumpled piece of paper was handed to you by one of your cabin mates: Kate Bishop. A former student, a little younger than you, who, after destroying a bell at the university, was sent here by her millionaire mother. Kate was to stay until she had balanced her irresponsible impulses and could take over the family's security empire.

She seemed a little reluctant to interrupt your concentration on cleaning the garden, but much more determined not to disappoint Wanda.

"Just give it to the kitchen staff, they'll know what to do. And prioritize, she doesn't like to wait." Said the girl, but you gave her hand a gentle tug before taking the paper.

"But why did she ask me?" you asked, but Kate had no idea and just shrugged before leaving the garden.

While the kitchen staff prepared the item, you tried to improve your appearance in the bathroom next to the lounge, wiping all the soil from the plants from under your fingers, and even what had run into your cheeks.

When you came out, there was another order on the counter and a small group of people who hadn't been there before. They didn't see you. Blonsky, accompanied by two other women you didn't know, were talking to each other.

"I bet it was Carter. She hasn't stopped talking about her private piano lessons with the Prophetess for four whole weeks." Said the first, but the other laughed quietly.

" Sharoon is a simp, that's all. Wanda wouldn't choose her after the episode with Rogers last year, she knows she can't trust her." Rebutted the other. "Besides, I would have assumed it was Bishop, after all, she already acts like a maid. Why train another when you already have one so dedicated?" The women laugh amongst themselves until they finally notice you approaching, and fall silent. Blonsky smiles, but he appears very vicious.

"Hello, miss. Wouldn't you like to have a say in who our next disciple is?" He asks you, but you shrug, moving forward in the queue in front of the canteen to grab the prophet's items that were clearly being prepared in priority.

"I don't know anything about it." That's your answer, but the shorter woman gets in your way.

"Come on, dear, it's easy." She begins with a giggle. "Every solstice, the prophetess chooses her disciples. There are 24 of them, 12 of whom will become apostles after their apprenticeship."

You grimace softly. "It's very biblical."

Blonsky chuckles. "Of course, it is, despite the multiculturalism of our group, Wanda was raised in a Jewish Christian home. You're not going to tell me you didn't know that?"

You clear your throat. "Not really. Sorry, I have to run."

But the man puts a hand in your way, only to stretch his body out on the counter and reach for some colored leaves that he crushes and drops into Wanda's glass.

"She likes it this way. I would know, I prepared many when I was her houseboy for the first few weeks here." He says, and you swallow dry, mumbling an awkward thank you before hurrying off.

The path is a little tiring, you think it makes sense of Wanda's physique if she had to climb that trail every day, and you mentally curse yourself for thinking about her body. It's not at all appropriate, honestly.

The door is open, but you knock anyway. The woman inside, wearing her typical long, loose dresses at the edge, is busy finishing a loose fringe in her hair and offers you a smile.

"Come in, dear."

You do so a little awkwardly, almost overwhelmed by the moment of entering the most private place in the whole camp. It's a beautiful cabin, you let her know, without stopping to admire the perfectly arranged surroundings. You would have thought that the privacy of this place would allow her to make some kind of personal mess, but everything is impeccably in place.

Wanda approaches to pick up the items, and the smile falters on her face at the first sip of her drink.

"Did you put... did you put maca root in this?" She asks, and your natural reaction is a short laugh.

"I didn't prepare it, Wanda."

But she doesn't smile again, her tone of voice remains the same but her attitude changes to one of false kindness. "My morning drink is an ashwagandha. I need my concentration to increase, not my libido." It really sounded like a scolding, and her attitude of handing the cup back to you, accompanied by the memory of the recent events, made your blood boil.

"Well, I'm not your fucking maid, so if it's not good, get another one downstairs, or even better, make it one yourself."

It's the first time you see any kind of fury in her gaze, hot and vibrant, and it makes something in you rouse. Your mention of leaving the cabin is prevented by her hands closing the door and trapping you against the wood.

Wanda takes a deep breath, and the gleam in her eyes changes. "Can I ask... where did this attitude come from?"

You hold the glass tightly against your body, very aware that you'll drop it if Wanda doesn't step away and let you breathe. "I just want to make things clear." You retort with a seriousness that doesn't do justice to the way your heart is racing. "I didn't come to this place to be your personal servant."

Wanda chuckles briefly, letting her gaze drop to your mouth. "Oh, of course not, darling." She whispers. "You're not the type to follow orders willingly. You'd do a terrible job."

Swallowing dryly, you retort: "And why am I here then?"

Wanda smiles innocently. "I asked you to bring my drink." It's her reply, clearly trying to tease you, and you snort impatiently.

"I bet you expected an answer. Well, I haven't made up my mind yet, so if there's nothing else, I'll just go."

Wanda moves to take the glass from you and put it on the table by the door. The next second, her hands are in yours.

"Don't be silly, of course, there's another reason." She retorts, pulling you along as she walks backward into the cabin. "I hear you love painting."

What you had assumed was her personal painting canvas is offered to you. The laugh that escapes you is shy and genuine.

"Wanda, I don't... paint anymore."

But she doesn't flinch, her hands still in yours. "I know you haven't since last semester. It was in the letter. But you've progressed so much, that I thought you could paint for me." When you don't answer, she makes such an adorable expression that your heart skips a beat. "Please?"

Wanda definitely knows how beautiful she is, and how those puppy-dog eyes can take her anywhere. You bite back a smile, agreeing, and almost forget to breathe when she jumps excitedly onto your neck, hugging it for a whole moment before letting go as if she hadn't turned you into a complete mess with one touch.

She doesn't complain about the cocktail again - instead, she drinks it entirely while you get comfortable on the painting stool, doodling for a few moments before starting to paint the only thing you could after so many months without touching a paintbrush.

It's only when the drawing is clearer on the frame that Wanda becomes restless again. Loud sighs take your attention away from the painting and towards her.

"Is something wrong?"

She smiles half-heartedly, and only now do you notice the soft color of her cheeks. "I shouldn't have ignored my own complaints and drunk that juice."

You frown in confusion, letting the brush rest next to the paints. "Was it that bad? If you want, I'll complain to the kitchen-"

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head and you have to shut up because she reaches over to push the canvas out of the way and stops right in front of you, close enough to touch.

"Remember what I said? About focus and about... my libido." She asks, and you can swallow dryly, looking up in the direction of her dilated eyes. She lets her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing the weight of her body gently into yours. "Well, I suppose you'll have to see for yourself. Hold out your hand sweetheart, no, no, down... yes, you can move my dress out of the way." Your trembling fingers brushed against her knee, and immediately obeyed the order. Slowly making your way under her dress, while Wanda bit her lip and watched you draw patterns on her thighs. Finally, your fingers reached the side of her underwear. Instead of pulling it down, you let the inks drop to the ground, and your other hand went under her dress too, repeating the same path as before while you and Wanda panted together. Your face fell forward, flush into her dress, and you pressed your nose against her, inhaling deeply the scent of arousal she exhaled so strongly.

Her hands squeezed your shoulders as yours began to pull down her panties right away. A moment later, gracefully as everything so far, she kicked the item aside and spread her legs gently so that you could slide your fingers between more easily.

You looked up the second your index finger met her warmth, gasping at the mischievous smile of the woman in front of you.

"All this time I've been here..." You started hoarsely, your fingers spreading the wetness between her folds, and enjoying the way Wanda's breath caught in her throat. "Were you this wet?"

Despite the failure of her own breathing, and the way it's harder to stand up with your intimate stimulation, Wanda gives you a mischievous look and leans her forehead against yours, her red hair making a curtain between your faces.

"I get like this every time I'm around you." She confesses, giving you a provocative tug on your lower lip that forces you to thrust inside her with more determination. Almost enough for her to lose her pose. Almost. "It's disconcerting, to be honest."

Your thumb presses down firmly on her clit, and Wanda almost buckles into you, the delicious sound that escapes her throat will be in your dreams for sure. "Well, should I apologize, high sanctity?"

She chuckles at the teasing hidden in the nickname, before leaning in completely and capturing your mouth in a fervent kiss that takes you out of orbit for a whole moment, intense enough for you to whimper into her tongue, and force her hips down into yours, practically begging her to grind your lap. Wanda's response to this is a dirty giggle mixed with a moan into your mouth.

Without breaking the kiss that turns into a much hungrier one the next second, you get to your feet, adjusting your hands to grab her thighs to pull her onto your lap and carry her around the room. Between stumbles, you press each other against the various surfaces of the room, tables, and cupboards, exchanging increasingly hot and desperate kisses, and you're pretty sure you're going to have Wanda against the bookshelf if she keeps grinding into your abdomen like that.

In a pause for breath, when she's still wedged between you and the bookcase, your mouth descends on her jaw and Wanda struggles to keep her eyes open. She whimpers shamelessly as your curious hands advance down her body, pulling her dress out of the way and leaving it barely hanging off her body for you to clasp your palms over her now-bare breasts.

Her patience for release is quickly exhausted by the precise stimulation of her breasts, your eager fingers teasing and pinching her nipples until you turn her into a whimpering mess. She gives a determined tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your face back to hers in a hard, dirty kiss that makes you shudder. She breaks it only to give an order:

"On your knees." And you groan in obedience, falling to the floor almost at once, desperately pulling her dress aside to force your face into her, now with nothing in the way. Wanda arches her back once your hot mouth finds her drenched cunt; her hands desperate for some kind of support on the shelves behind her, while her chest heaves and her hips are restless against your face.

Your hungry mouth leisurely devours her, your tongue teasing her folds, spreading her wetness around and making a mess on your face. Your closed eyes show your dedication and surrender to the task, but Wanda tugs at your hair again, trying to gain a little control back and order you to quit the teasing and fuck her the way she needs you to. Fully dilated Irises then confronts her from between her legs, and Wanda loses her breath.

"Beautiful." She panted, staring back, shamelessly grinding herself into your face. "So beautiful... fuck... on your knees for me... oh, God, detka." She struggles to compliment you, but her native language begins to escape mixed with English shortly afterward, her climax approaching. You moan contentedly at the scene, aware of the state of your own underwear from all this play. Wanda's body begins to betray her, trying to pull away so you grab her thighs with a strong grip, and one of her legs ends up over your shoulder, increasing your reach just the way she needs it to fall over the edge.

Wanda comes on your tongue, spasming against the books, and in a deep moan. You don't let her pull away, keeping her restless hips in place as you lick your way through her previous climax in search of a new one. Soon her whimpering protests at the overstimulation turn into begging, and you fail to hide the smug smile at feeling her so at your mercy for a second time.

She's so close, so close, that the Sokovian comes back to her tongue, but there's a sudden knock on the door, and all the stimulation is interrupted by your fright. Wanda gasps incredulously, losing the time to react in time due to her own lust, and having to watch you stumble away - quickly wiping her cum from your chin with the back of your hand - as she tries not to fall down on her shaking knees.

"Why the fuck did you stop?" she asks in frustration through her teeth, but you, with a very flushed face, look at her with a certain desperation.

"Wanda, there's someone at the door!" You retort as if it were a very justifiable reason to steal an orgasm from her. Wanda huffs angrily, lunging at you and ignoring your confused eyes to pull you upright by the collar of your shirt, hurriedly throwing you onto the mattress. "W-wanda, what?"

"Quiet." She cuts in, pushing your shoulders until you're lying down and following the movement of your body to straddle your lap. The person outside knocks again, and although she's pulling her off, and is still shaking from her last orgasm, Wanda manages to speak in the same tone of voice as she does every morning meeting: "What is it?"

Your protests are muffled when Wanda sits on your face, and in fact, you would have forgotten any guests if Blonsky's voice hadn't sounded in the next second.

"Good morning, Reverend, I've come to join you for today's service." Says the man, but Wanda has to bite her lip hard because you're eating her out again, somehow even better than before. "Reverend?"

Wanda shakes her head, frowning at the difficulty of maintaining a rational thought when she has your tongue inside her. "Hm, I'm not going today, Blonsky... Deliver the service in my place." She fails to sound so breathless and has to close her eyes when your hands grip her thighs tightly, holding her down.

Blonsky then sounds concerned: "Aren't you feeling well, Reverence?"

Your nose nuzzles into her clit and Wanda reaches for the headboard, a satisfied sigh escaping her. "I feel great." She murmurs back and has to take a deep breath so that the next sound that escapes her isn't a moan. "Just busy. Anything else, Blonsky?"

The man clears his throat, Wanda has to press a hand against her own mouth as you reach another right spot.

"Hm, yes, Reverend... As you know, the deadline for the selection of the disciple is coming to an end." He begins, luckily unable to hear the muffled sighs inside the room through the closed door. "I have expressed my concerns to Your Reverence about a premature choice of new members-"

Wanda snorts impatiently. "Are you really going to question my choices again, Blonsky?"

"N-no, reverend!" He defends himself quickly. "Never. I just worry that the... affinity, that Your Reverence has acquired for some new members, might affect your judgment about their vocations. The premature choice of a disciple could result in their departure from our community, and we know how the withdrawal of one of our own affects everyone..."

"Don't worry about it." Wanda cuts dry, and now, she's remarkably close to climaxing. She doesn't care about the roughness, she thrusts her hips frantically into your face, muffling your breathless moans. "Y/N is the best choice... she's... so-god... dedicated and-hm... talented-" Wanda's lucky you're quick to react too. She would have screamed to the ceiling, exposing all the inappropriate activities in the room if you hadn't grabbed her thighs and spun her on her back onto the mattress. She didn't have time to lose this orgasm by the brief interruption of your movements - your fingers took the place of your tongue when you hovered above her, and your free hand covered her mouth when you sank inside her again.

Wanda came harder than before, squeezing your fingers and wetting the bed. She clings to your body in a desperate grasp, shocked by the achievement over her body, and grateful for the muffling of her moans. You keep thrusting until she stops squirting on the sheets.

You only remember that Blonsky is still outside because he speaks again. "I'll take your word for it, Your Reverence. And I hope you've made a good choice." He says at last, the sound of his footsteps moving away is ignored by you and Wanda, who meet in a hot kiss in the next second.

Your fingers continue to thrust lightly inside her, even though Wanda shudders from the excessive stimulation. And despite this, she also controls the kiss, which slows down so that she can ask in between: "Tell me, love. Did I do it? A good choice."

You kiss her a little harder. "I still don't know... what I want... or what I should do, Wanda."

She brings one of her hands up to your wrist, stopping your movements. You open your eyes to look at her. Wanda smiles, but her eyes are very mischievous. "You think too hard when the answer is right here." She retorts, giving your hand a gentle tug. You follow her lead, and soon, you have your drenched fingers with her cum inside your mouth. Your hips move instinctively, pressing down on her, and Wanda giggles mischievously, her free hand trailing down your back to encourage the movement. "Don't you want that, baby? You can be all mine."

You suck your fingerprints clean, removing them from your mouth to support yourself on the mattress now that you're so wildly grinding your hips against Wanda's thigh. She doesn't let you indulge in the sensation, grabbing your cheek and stopping your hips with the other at your silence.

Your soft protest is ignored, and your voice is almost a pathetic plea when it comes out. "It's not fair... I was feeling so good."

"Oh, darling, I can make you feel even better, every day if you decide to stay with me." She retorts, her grip softening on your cheek. You look at her, but there is still hesitation in your gaze and Wanda wishes to replace this doubt with something else. She kisses you but pulls away when you go to increase the intensity, ignoring your protest and pushing you gently away by the shoulders. "No playing, until I have an answer."

Wanda flees - because she doesn't think she'll live up to her words if she is under you - and slips out of bed before you can grab her back. Your next long protest is muffled against the mattress because you press your face down.

Wanda giggles half-heartedly as she stands up, reaches for her dress, and tries to adjust her appearance a little. "Thank you for the sex, sweetheart, it was a very pleasant surprise, but I can't let Blonsky lead a communion, he's not good at it. And you have errands, so if you'll excuse me..." Your silence made Wanda, now dressed, look at the bed again. To her surprise, you were sitting on the mattress, hanging something around your neck.

Your gaze met hers as the disciple chain was secure on your skin. The mischief in your gaze made her swallow. Twirling the symbol between your fingers, you smiled as you asked: "So how does this work? Should I confess my sins so that you can forgive me?"

"God offers forgiveness, not me." Wanda whispers back, brazenly watching you start to unbutton your shirt, the necklace hanging in the valley of your breasts is doing things to her.

"Hm, since I'm going to be forgiven, maybe I can sin a little more..." Wanda moved on instinct, crawling onto the bed to meet you halfway like a magnet being drawn towards you.

Your foreheads touched, and she sighed against your lips. "I should punish you for this blasphemy." She says, to which you smile naughtily before sticking out your tongue to tease her lips, eliciting a low moan from her.

"Promise?" You challenge, and Wanda gets tired of wasting time.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #kinktober 2023 #marvel imagines

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