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zepskies · 19 days

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A Line and a Half

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Dory’s eldest brother comes to visit her at Wyoming University, you don’t know quite what to make of Russell Shaw. But he knows exactly what he wants to make of you.

AN: Okay, here’s my first toe-dip into the world of Tracker with Russell Shaw! 1x12 gave me too many ideas not to explore this intriguing character. This is set before episode 12, but I have a little series I want to sketch out that will continue after this one-shot, so think of this as a “Part 1,” if you will. 😉

Word Count: 3.2K

Tags/Warnings: A kind of “meet cute,” attempts at flirting, and hints of setup for more to come…

You watched, silently simmering, as Dr. Goldstein added yet another packet of internship applications from his graduate students onto your desk.

Applicants that he, as the History Department Chairman, was supposed to review himself. Instead, he’d been adding these hours quite literally onto your desk.

“If you could review these for me as well, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said. “Get ‘em back to me by Thursday, okay?”

As a Professor of History with two doctorates in your name, you once again grated internally at sweetheart, but you tried to keep that cringe off your face as well.

Goldstein barely even met your eyes when he dropped off his burden, and then aimed to leave your office.

“Uh, Paul,” you called out, raising a finger. You stood from your desk as quickly as you could in your pencil skirt, but the man was already out the door. You followed him out, your heels clacking on the tile floor.

Damn it. Knew I should’ve gone with pants, you said, continuing to hasten after your boss.

“Paul! Just a second,” you said. That finally managed to turn the man’s head off of his phone. He glanced at you while checking his watch.

“About the internship applications…and your midterm exam essays for that matter. Don’t you think—” you started to say, but the man spoke over you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. Meeting my massage therapist at noon,” he said, and rolled a seemingly stiff shoulder under his tailored blazer. “Something’s just not right here after my trip to Cali last weekend. I don’t know what I did, pulled muscle or something. But hey, they do say parasailing is a sport.”

You quirked a brow. “Do they?”

You weren’t sure that being strapped into a parachute for a nice air glide over the Pacific counted as a sport.

Goldstein shrugged at your question and he kept walking down the hall. Though he turned back to toss you a pointed finger.

“Need those by Thursday. Thanks, you’re the best,” he said.

You watched him go, as proverbial steam began to escape through your ears. Slowly you pivoted on your heels, and you went back to your office. You grimaced at the large stack of applications. You were pretty sure he padded them with an extra section of midterm exams.

Tapping your nails on your desk, you grabbed your phone next to your desktop and checked the time. 11:30 a.m.

Screw it. I’m going to lunch, you thought.

Dory had to be out of her Intro Physics class by now, which meant she’d be in her office, ready for you to drop in on her a little early. You took up your purse and almost made it out the door…but at the last moment, your anal brain made you turn back to grab a shoulder bag and the pile of applications. Maybe you could knock out a few during lunch.

Friggin’ doormat, as your brother would say. Laughing at you, probably.

You rolled your eyes and headed back out the door with your haul of papers, purse, work bag, and keys, locking your office behind you.

Why, oh why did the Sciences building have to be on the other side of campus?

It was damn near a mile walk from your Humanities building over to Dory’s office on the second floor. Your hands were laden with packets that couldn’t be contained by your heavy work bag, your purse was slipping off your shoulder, and these heels were killing your feet.

It was a miracle you and Dory had ever met on this campus. On your first day of teaching, you’d of course been hopelessly lost. Somehow you ended up at the tail-end of one of her classes in one of the science auditoriums.

She’d been gracious enough to help you, and even walked you all the way to the Humanities building so you could find your World History class before the students decided to just get up and leave. (And after fifteen minutes, they very well would.)

That day, she became your first real friend at Wyoming University. In the three years since, she’d become your best friend.

And now, her door was mercifully open halfway. You pushed it open and stumbled just a little from the transition of tile to carpet inside her office. Your papers nearly flew from your hands, so you struggled to right yourself and contain them all back into the semblance of neatness.

“Hey, girl. You better be ready for lunch because Jesus fucking Christ. Goldstein’s up my ass again and all I’ve had today is a crusty donut from the teacher’s lounge, which I’m pretty sure was stale,” you said, with your brows furrowed in frustration.

When you finally looked up from your struggles, you realized that Dory wasn’t alone. She smiled at you in amusement, sitting at her desk beside a man who made you pause. Your eyes widened.

He was leaning casually with an elbow propped up on her desk, dressed in jeans and a worn, pale green jacket—a good match for his eyes. He looked a little rugged for Dory’s tastes, but you couldn’t fault her, with the cut of that bearded jaw, and the smile raising the corners of his lips.

“Hey,” Dory laughed. “I see you’re having a good day.”

You bit your lip in embarrassment, probably smudging your lipstick.

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked first,” you said, though you could see she seemed to be having an actual good day. Office picnic? Or maybe the handsome stranger was getting ready to take her out.

Dory just waved you in. She stood and set a hand on her companion’s shoulder, and he got up along with her.

“It’s okay. This is my brother, Russell,” she said, and she introduced you in kind.

“Well, hi there,” he said. He subtly took you in with his eyes as he held out his hand. Already you felt your face heating up with more than just embarrassment.

You were a bit shocked as well, to say the least. Dory had told you some…interesting things about her family, including the fact that she had two older brothers. You wondered which one this was, the middle child, or the eldest.

“Hi! Sorry. Again. Nice to meet you,” you said. You tried to hold your hand out to reach his, but a few papers began to spill out. You clutched at them on reflex, but Russell drew in quickly to help you.

“Got yourself a load there,” he said. You agreed with an awkward laugh and a shrug of your shoulders.

“My boss’s idea of extra credit,” you said wryly.

“You can set it down on that chair over there,” Dory said, pointing to one against the back wall, next to a tall filing cabinet.

You and Russell meandered over and managed to set down the stack without casualty. You were able to pull up the straps of your bag and your purse from falling off your shoulder and give him a grateful look.

“Thanks,” you said.

“No problem,” he said, giving you an easy smile back. “I actually crashed in unannounced, so if you two wanna to head to lunch, you go right ahead.”

“Uh, no. I haven’t seen you in months! You should come with us,” Dory said. She grabbed her purse to join you and Russell by the door.

You raised your hands in placation. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially if it’s been a while since you’ve seen each other. You guys should catch up.”

Dory shook her head and grabbed your hand.

“Uh, uh. I want to hear the latest on Paul’s bullshit, and why you’re carrying half your office across campus. Let’s go,” she said, and gestured at your work bag. “Leave that here. You’re gonna eat and talk to me. No working involved.”

You laughed, but you agreed to her cajoling. With another glance at her brother, and those green eyes that seemed to be dancing, you joined them for lunch.

The three of you ended up at a diner that you and Dory frequented at least once a week. The food was good, the service was quick, and it was close to campus. Wins all around. Russell seemed to be enjoying himself, as he hummed in delight after the very first bite of his Philly cheesesteak.

“Sriracha on fries, huh?” you remarked, gesturing at the man’s plate. Your brow was quirked, but he shot you a smile.

“I said avert your eyes,” he teased. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.”

Ugh. Another sweethearting man. You narrowed your own eyes at him a bit. He caught the look and raised a hand in defense (the one that wasn’t holding his cheesesteak).

“Uh oh. What’d I do?” he asked.

“You gave her some PTSD,” Dory said with a laugh. “Dr. Goldstein likes to sugar coat his demands with sexism.”

Russell noted your souring look with apology. You’d just finished recounting your morning for your friend, and recapping years of “sugar-coated demands” for Russell.

“Why don’t you just tell him to cram it up his…uh…” he paused. Seeing his little sister’s look of amusement, he amended. “Or you know, stuff it.”

A smile twitched at your lips. “Oh, believe me, I’d love to tell him to stuff it. But he’s technically my boss, and the department chair. Even though I’ve basically been doing his job for two years now.”

“Well, that sucks,” Russell said. “And I feel for ya. I’ve had my share of shitty bosses in my time.”

You sighed and accepted his commiseration with a nod.

It wasn’t fair, but Goldstein planned to retire early in a few years. Must be nice.

When he did, it would make you the most likely candidate to replace him as department chair. The way you saw it, this was giving you plenty of practice before you (hopefully) inherited the position.

Anyway, you shook your head. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were more curious about one Russell Shaw. You now knew he was an army vet, and he carried himself like one. Calm, controlled, even though his smiles came easy. His tousled hair and beard, while well-trimmed and neat, still gave him a roguish quality.

“So let me guess. You’re…the eldest?” you asked. You blotted at your mouth with a napkin, having finished your chicken panini.

Russell treated you to another one of those smiles, though this one held a hint of more.

“Guilty. Though I’m the handsome one,” he said with a wink.

You found yourself smiling behind your napkin.

“I’m sure,” you replied.

Dory rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. Apparently my brother’s an incorrigible flirt.”

He chuckled and sipped at his beer, but then he grimaced.

“Ech. Friggin’ weak,” he said. “I brew better than this outta the trunk of my car.”

You raised a brow at that. “You make your own beer?”

“Damn straight,” he said. His gaze turned a hint more playful. “Next time I’ll bring you some. You can tell me what you think.”

You shared a telling look with Dory.

“Next time, huh?” you asked.

“Sure,” he inclined his head. “I pop into town from time to time. Gotta check in and pester my little sister, the physics professor.”

He laid a hand on Dory’s shoulder, squeezing warmly. You could see the pride in his eyes, and it warmed you as well.

She turned to him with a smile, reaching up to cover his hand with hers.

“You don’t pester me. I’d love it if I got to see you more often,” she said.

“Ah, I know, I’m sorry,” he said, releasing her. “My job’s got me all over the place. But I’ll be here for a week or so on this gig.”

That intrigued you. “What do you do for work?”

“Ah, well, you could say I'm a contractor. Private security mainly,” said Russell. His shoulders shifted as he became a little more guarded, you noticed. “My company connects me with the client for as long as the job lasts. Could be a few months, sometimes a few days, depending.”

“Oh, wow. Do you live here in Wyoming?” you asked. He paused, but tilted his head a little, back and forth as he considered your question.

“I kinda bounce around,” he said. “Just go from one job to the next. Sounds a bit unorthodox, I know, but it’s a living.”

“Interesting,” you nodded, but inside, you thought that sounded like a hard way to live.

Unstable…and lonely.

“You know, it’s amazing how much you and Colter have in common,” Dory said. She folded her hands on the table and met her brother with a pointed look.

He huffed in response, though he glanced at you, then back at his sister. As if he was saying, You really want to do this now?

Dory had told you before that Colter was a “rewardist,” or some kind of bounty hunter. The nature of his work kept him busy, and seemingly too busy for his sister. But you also sensed there was an edgier history here.

For the first time, you felt like you were intruding in a moment between brother and sister that went beyond words.

After a moment, Russell shook his head.

“Look, I tried with him, all right? He won’t talk to me,” he said. He went back to eating, polishing off his fries. He offered you one that was half-smothered in sriracha.

“Come on. Live on the edge with me,” he teased.

You eyed the sauce-covered fry in distaste, but after glancing up at his more playful smile, you accepted his offer. You chewed in contemplation, and found that the tangy hint of kick wasn’t so bad.

“Eh? Eeeh? Delicious, am I right?” he said, his hands going wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded in agreement.

“It’s all right,” you replied.

“Yes!” Russell’s hands swept up higher, like he was celebrating a touchdown. "See, I told ya."

You couldn’t help but laugh. Dory shook her head fondly and gave him a clean napkin for the bit of schmutz she spotted at the corner of his mouth.

“Here, wipe your sriracha face.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, as Russell helped you gathered your stack of papers and slung your work bag over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’m a bonafide gentleman. Ain’t that right, D?” he asked his sister. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, but she did give you a knowing smile.

“Oh, his intentions are pure,” she said.

And by that, you both understood her meaning. His intentions couldn’t be any clearer than a mallet over the head, but you kind of found it endearing.

This man really carried your stuff from the Sciences building across the entire campus to your office. All the while, he asked you about how you and Dory met, the kinds of things you two did together, and if you thought she was happy working here.

You had a feeling he was trying to learn more about his sister’s life. On one hand, it was rather sweet. On the other, it made you realize that there was distance in this family, both literal and figurative. You were glad to hear that Russell, at least, was trying to bridge that gap with his sister. Dory deserved to have more of that in her life.

As you explained to Russell while you led him down the hall to your office, your friendship with her had just…clicked. From the very beginning.

“Dory, you know. She’s more than kind,” you said. “She’s a real one. I can rely on her, even when I can’t rely on my own family.”

Russell hummed at that. “That sounds like a story.”

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away for a moment. You smiled and met his gaze once more. “Maybe one for another time.”

“So you’re on board with a ‘next time.’ Good to know,” Russell remarked. Your smile deepened.

It was good timing when you two finally reached your office. You unlocked it and let him inside, so he could set down your bag, and the god-forsaken stack of internship applications back onto your desk. You’d probably be stuck here working late on those.

“Well, thank you so much. You really didn’t have to schlep for me,” you said.

When you turned, Russell was a bit close. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to make a trill of something zip up your spine. You smelled more intensely his cologne, woodsy and warm. Looking up at him, you once again found his smile.

“It’s no problem,” he said, but his eyes met yours for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought.

“What?” you asked, a bit nervous.

“Anybody ever tell you, you got soulful eyes?” he asked.

It took your brain a second or two to compute, but when his words registered, you had to laugh. You held it behind your hand, while the other went to steady yourself on your desk.

“Well, that’s a line if I’ve ever heard one,” you said, shading your “soulful” eyes with a hand.

You didn’t know it, but Russell’s face warmed in slight embarrassment. He recovered though, taking in your pretty laugh, and the shade of your hair, let loose around your shoulders, and yes, your eyes, when you let him see them again.

If he hadn’t known before, now he was convinced.

He wanted to see more of you before he left town.

“Hey, now that was 100% genuine,” Russell said, but his grin spoke volumes. When your mirth died down, he scratched the back of his head.

“Okay, cards on the table. Would you be interested in grabbing a drink with me sometime?” he asked.

You took in a breath at that. You actually did consider his offer, because homebrew and sriracha fries be damned, there was something more to him. It was lying in wait, behind those eyes that were drawing you in.

However, this was also a man whose job basically made him a nomad. It didn’t exactly scream relationship material.

Which only left the alternative: something…casual.

You just didn’t know if that alternative was such a good idea. Not with your best friend’s brother.

“Just a drink. No frills, no more grilling you about my sister,” Russell said, breaking you from your deliberation. He gestured a hand between the two of you. “Just this. You and me.”

Eventually, you sighed. Your lips raised into a more genuine smile.

“Sometime, huh?” you asked.

He smiled back. “Tonight?”

You hesitated, but despite your better judgment, you nodded before you could change your mind. You still weren’t sure what to make of this guy, but you were willing to find out.

“Sure,” you said. “Howley’s at eight?”

“Well, all right,” Russell said.

He surprised you by sweeping up your hand into his. You looked up at him, curious, but not wary. Anticipation tingled down your spine.

He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. Soft shock made your eyes widen as you blushed, feeling the subtle graze of his beard against your skin.

Who is this guy, Cary Grant? you thought.

But when he pulled away, you had to remind yourself to breathe. Again, you caught sight of his cheeky grin.

“See you tonight,” he said.

AN: He is beauty he is grace, he is Mr. Sriracha Face. 😆

Let me know if you guys liked this! 💜 It's my first time writing a character based solely on one episode, but next up is a series that will continue this one-shot. It's called Every Second Counts.

Next Time in Part 1:

“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips.

You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still on the Wyoming University campus after your last class.

Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.

“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.

Stay tuned for 6/12! 😘

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Russell Shaw Masterlist

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Russell S. Tag List:

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@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum

@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady

@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy

@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad

@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73

@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj

@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways

@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato

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userlando · 1 year

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✧･ﾟ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

steve murphy x female!reader summary ⤍ work is piling on, bogotá is suffering from a heatwave and all you want is steve murphy. warnings ⤍ 18+ (mdni), co-workers to lovers, explicit language & smut, public sex, unprotected sex (piv) a/n ⤍ surprise surprise, of course i'd circle back to steve murphy some day. hope i made it justice. prob won't be the last i write of him since this was a lot of fun, so hope you enjoy this one lovies <3

It was brain meltingly hot in the office today, perspiration on your forehead and bra uncomfortably pinching your torso, to the point where it was almost antagonising you. It had been hot the moment you got out of bed this morning, and it hadn’t gotten any better throughout the day even though you’d opted to stay back in the office and work on the mountain of stacked papers that only seemed to grow by the hour on your desk.

You’d think that the heatwave would settle when people had begun to filter out, emptying the office space little by little. But the sun was still shining tauntingly through the windows and the floor fans were doing their best to keep up.

You glared at said fans, watching them spin round and round with the occasional squeal. A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back against your chair, ignoring the discomfort of your shirt sticking to your back and reaching out for the nearest folder you could use to fan yourself with. The people in the office could really use an extra two swipes of deodorant and cut back on the cigarettes. The odours were starting to settle in your nose in the most unpleasant way and you didn’t know how much longer you could stand it.

It was clear that you weren’t going to get much work done anymore, but you’d be damned if you stepped foot outside the building with the sun still beating down on the city of Bogotá and you had a feeling that your apartment wasn’t much better than… this. It had too many large windows with afternoon sun.

Your freezer contained ice lollies though, something you’d craved all day. And your apartment offered you the liberty of wearing a long tank top with no pants and no bra. But it didn’t have Steve Murphy.

Steve Murphy, who was sitting across from you with his back leaned against his chair in a similar position to yours. He was reading from a folder, eyebrows tightly knit the way they always got when he was concentrating and you took a moment to silently admire the arch of his nose and the inviting pink of his lips. His hair had been styled halfheartedly in the morning, but it was now sticking up from running his fingers through it and the strand were clumped up together from the sweat and moisture in the air. Nobody made sweating look as good as Steve did. It should’ve pissed you off but it was a sight for sore eyes.

Your thoughts stuttered to a halt when he stuck a chewed up pen in his mouth and bit into it, looking a little annoyed all of a sudden and you knew he’d finally given up on making sense of the endless amount of scripts and documents you’d spent the last three days pouring through. Carrillo was truly a closeted sadist for assigning you so much work to go through in such little time.

There was a small clearing of a throat from the side and you glanced to the left, feeling like a kid who’d gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Javier wasn’t looking at you, but there was a small smile playing on his lips that let you know that he’d definitely caught you ogling the blond man sitting in front of you. You reached your leg out and kicked him in the shin, earning a startled yelp from him and a questioning glance from Steve.

“Sorry,” you said with no remorse in your voice. “Muscle spasm.”

Javier narrowed his eyes at you like he could see right through your bullshit, flicking a stack of papers on his desk before picking some new ones up to read through. You could’ve bet a few bucks that he wasn’t reading through them as intently as he had been two hours ago. His mind had already checked out for the day, as had yours. You couldn’t blame him.

The three of you worked in moderate silence and the occasional annoyed grunt and comment thrown into the air, for the next hour. The sun was finally starting to set, casting shadows in the moderately empty office but you were getting more agitated by the second.

The heat was getting to you and fucking Steve couldn’t stop chewing his lip and touching his neck.

It all took you back to that one godforsaken night a few weeks ago. You’d gone out with the two of them for a drink, and Javier had wandered off at some point; Mumbling something about getting laid. And he’d subsequently left the two of you alone at the bar with more drinks in your systems than necessary and sexual tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

You’d sworn to never involve work and pleasure when you transferred to Colombia to work on catching the drug lord, and yet you’d found yourself pressed up against a wall in the far back of the bar and your tongue shoved down your partners throat. The taste of whiskey on his tongue had been intoxicating, everything about him had been irresistible. But it had been a one time thing, that’s where you set your boundary and Steve had respected it in his own way. He hadn’t tried anything with you, but there had been the occasional eye contact and suggestive comment. You’d be a filthy liar if you said you didn’t enjoy it just a tiny bit.

You must’ve started fidgeting in your chair because you caught Steve glancing up, not picking his head up from where it was slumped. The sight of him looking at you through his lashes made something in your stomach squirm.

“What?” You mouthed, biting the inside of your lip when his lips transformed into a smirk. It was like he could read your thoughts in your eyes. “Fucker.”

His smile got wider somehow, and he quickly managed to tamper it down when Javier suddenly sighed loudly. You both turned your gazed toward him, just in time to watch how he stood up from his chair and picked up a few folders.

“Need to make copies.” He explained, as if one of you had asked him. Javier didn’t need your permission though, nonchalantly grabbing his blazer and walking out of the room and you had a feeling that was the last you’d see of him for tonight.

You glanced back at Steve to catch him already staring at you, and you tried to not feel so self-conscious about the way your hair was probably a damp mess and your face sweaty. It looked good on Steve, but you couldn’t pull it off like he did.

“You done with that?” He asked, like you hadn’t been having a staring contest and you gave him a questioning arch of the eyebrows until he clarified by nodding at a folder by your arm.

“Have at it.” You sighed, handing it over to him before standing up from your chair.

It scraped against the floor and you glanced around to see if you’d disturbed anyone with the obnoxious sound. Aside from a few officers on the other side of the room, it was completely empty. And that made something redhot run through your blood.

You walked over to the water tank to fill your mug up with water cold enough to give you a brain freeze, thinking about maybe taking off and going home. Javier had once again left you alone with Murphy, and the heat was melting the last of your common sense.

There had been one close call where Carrillo had paired you and Steve together for a stakeout; monitoring a warehouse on the outskirts for any signs of drug transportations, but you’d smoothly gotten out of it and had Peña jump in instead. There was no telling what would happen if they put you and Steve in a car during the night with nothing but the two of you to keep each other company.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t been friends before the bar incident, it was quite the opposite. Being a woman in this field was tough, but Steve had - along with Javi - welcomed you like his own surprisingly quickly.

There were only so many times you could carpool and watch a shitty movie cuddled up on the couch before you started treading over dangerous water. A phone call home didn’t bring you the same comfort as greasy food on the couch after a long day of chasing ghosts and criminals. It was easy to feel homesick when alone, so it was a good thing that you had your partners a few doors down if you ever needed them.

“It’s way too fucking hot to work.” Steve complained and you gave a laugh with a nod. He flicked the papers onto the desk and leaned all the way back on his chair and you took that as a sign that he - much like you - was done with work.

You rounded the corner of the desk and tried not stare too hard at his arms when he reached up to rest his hands on the back of his head. His biceps were bulging a little too invitingly, and you had to shake yourself as you perched on the edge of his desk. There was no mistaking his wandering gaze as he slowly looked up your legs, to your upper body until he reached your eyes and you raised your eyebrows to show him that you’d caught him looking.

He didn’t seem too embarrassed though, judging by the slow smile forming on his face.

“Might be time to call it for tonight.” You said, glancing around the half-empty office. “Not like we’re gonna make any more progress than we’ve done today.”

Steve made a sound in his throat like he agreed with your sentiment, happily accepting the mug of water when you handed it to him. You watched him take a sip, throat bobbing as he swallowed and you suddenly felt a little too hot under your clothes.

“D’you wanna head over to mine? Grab a beer and just kick back.” He asked, glancing up at you and you nodded slowly.

“Sure.” You watched him stand up, shuffling papers and folders around in a poor attempt to organise his desk before giving up and reaching for a packet of cigarettes. He stuck one between his teeth and lit it up. “Do you think Javi will be back?”

Steve looked at you with an are you serious? look, and you tried not to think about how hot he looked with a cigarette hanging from between his lips. Cocky looked so good on him.

“You’re lucky if you see him any more today.” He replied, grabbing his jacket and pushing in his chair.

You made a sound of agreement and walked around the desk, picking your bag up and showing a few folders inside it before the both of you were set to go home.

It couldn’t have been in your head, the tension in the air as the both of you walked out of the office. It felt like you were barely hanging onto a thread and it seemed to grow even thinner when the blond man touched your waist as he let you pass by him first through a doorway.

The two of you locked eyes for a split second and that confirmed everything that you needed to know. And that’s what you used as an excuse as your eyes flickered back and forth until you found a door that you knew lead to a documentation room, not hesitating for a split second as you reached your hand back and blindly grabbed Steve’s hand in yours.

He let you lead him way too easily, your hand shaking a little as you turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. And that’s when Steve took over, putting more of his body weight on your back to help you get into the room faster. You didn’t think of how unethical it was, or how it was such a bad idea to hook up once again with your partner at your workplace, of all places.

You didn’t even think of how absolutely stifling it was in the small room, too focused on the way Steve was staring you down like a predator eyeing it’s prey. He closed the door and turned the lock without taking his eyes off of you, and it was dark but not dark enough for you to miss the smirk playing on his lips as he walked you backwards.

You reached your hands out to grab at his disheveled tie, yanking hard enough for a breath to escape his lips before you settled your mouth over his in a heated kiss. There was a loud bang as he placed a hand flat against the metal drawers by your head to keep himself from stumbling into you, a moan creeping its way up his throat and you revelled in the taste of his tongue.

It was warm inside, suffocating really, but you needed more. You needed him closer and on you. He didn’t have any problems with complying when you snuck an arm around his torso and had the other one grab at his hair, turning your head slightly so he could lick deeper into your mouth.

You could taste the coffee he’d been sipping on a few hours ago and smell his aftershave that transported you back to that night at the bar where you’d been in a position just like this. He slid his mouth down your cheek, jaw and pressed sucking kisses and licks against the side of your throat. It was hard to stay still when the sharpness of his moustache hairs pricked and scratched your sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, always smell so good, baby.” He was panting, and so were you.

There was no doubt that he could feel your heart beating in your throat, right under his lips where he was definitely sucking a mark that wasn’t gonna fade within the next week. It should’ve made you furious, because that meant scarves and long collars in this unbearable weather but it only made you keen and pull him in closer. The thought of him marking you up for your co-workers to see, for Javier to give off that infuriatingly smug grin and for Steve to proudly parade around; Knowing he did that.

You were a proud woman, having worked your ass off to get where you were today and you’d be damned if you were to be seen as someone other than their own person. But something about fooling around with Steve; Breaking the obvious unspoken rule that wasn’t really a rule. Not really. Rules were hardly a thing to follow within these walls if they weren’t reinforced by the colonel himself.

“Steve, you better fuck me now or I’ll scream.” You tried to sound threatening, but your voice sounded too breathy and it only made Steve laugh like he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

“So needy,” he whispered, pulling his head up to look at you and you reached forward to steal a kiss from his lips that he was all too happy to give. Hearing and feeling him sigh happily against you made your stomach feel like it was bottoming out, all the feelings you’d been trying to hold in, spilling out.

He brought his hands to the front of your torso, squeezing at the swell of your tits over your shirt and sliding his hands down your quivering stomach until he got to the button of your jeans, letting out a noise of frustration. You watched him unbutton your jeans with a smile, taking your chance to grab at his messy hair and tilt his head to the side so you could kiss the delicate skin of his neck.

You didn’t see it, but you could feel his hands falter where they were struggling to unbutton your jeans, his head throwing back for a few seconds like he was trying to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. You could’ve taken mercy on him and help him get you out of your pants, but it was a little too enjoyable for you to kiss and nibble at his throat and earlobe. You’d only hooked up twice now, but it didn’t take a genius to find his sweet spot seeing as it was right beneath his ear.

“Couldn’t have worn a damn skirt.” You heard him mutter as he crouched and you grinned.

“Not very —“

“Practical. Yeah, I know. So you’ve said.” You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could hear the eye roll in his voice and it made you smile even harder. Steve could be an asshole, but you’d be damned liar if you said that he wasn’t a good listener.

He finally pulled back and yanked your jeans down your legs, crouching down to help you out of them, one leg at a time. You ran your fingers through his hair and almost recoiled when he glanced up at you from his crouched position; Caught off-guard by the softness in them. The blue of his eyes made something fierce squeeze in your chest and you let out a small whimper when he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss between your legs, over your panties.

You watched him kiss his way up, and it felt like coming home when he finally reached your lips and pried then open with his own. There was no doubt that the man could kiss, and you loved every second of it.

It made you jump a little when he pulled your panties to the side, the pads of his fingers swiping through the mess that he’d created. He let out a shuddered breath against your lips and rocked back just far enough to look at you without the both of you going crosseyed.

“I don’t have a condom on me.” He murmured, and if you’d looked hard enough then you would’ve seen remorse in the blue of his eyes.

You tried to collect your thoughts but it was difficult when his fingers were circling your clit. Your hands grabbed at his shirt, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you ripped a hole in it.

“I’m on the pill,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat up a little as his eyebrows climbed on his forehead. “And I’m clean. I trust you.”

He searched your eyes for a moment, and it would’ve almost been tender if it wasn’t for the fact that he got two fingers up your cunt and was fucking into you like he was testing out how wet you were.

It felt like an eternity when he finally nodded, offering you a small smile and a quick kiss.

“I’m clean too.” He pushed his fingers deep, making you gasp and buck into him. “And there hasn’t been anyone else after you. Or even before you.”

The implication was there, and you revelled in his confession because those had been thoughts that had been plaguing you for a hot moment. Javi had his line of women to call and you didn’t know if that was the case for Steve. You spent a lot of time together outside of work, but there were still gaps in time where he could’ve hooked up with whomever he pleased. This job was hard and it put a whole lot of pressure on your shoulders, so much so that the average person would cave from it. It was only normal to seek basic human intimacy and lose yourself in it, even if it was only for a night or an hour.

It made your belly turn a little sour whenever you thought of it, you just didn’t want to admit it out loud because that would somehow make it seem real. Make your feelings for him real. You weren’t sure what that meant.

Crossing the line with your partner a second time went against everything you’d believed in. You never wanted to get involved with anyone like this because your work was dangerous enough, add a person you cared for into the mix and it made it even more terrifying.

“Hey, you with me?” Steve’s gentle voice brought you back from your inner turmoil and you blinked at him, giving him a nod.

“Yeah, I’m here.” You replied, giving him a small smile when his lips turned up in reassurance. “Come on, I’m ready. Fuck me please, Steve.”

Steve groaned like he’d never heard anything sweeter, pulling his fingers out and bringing them up between you. He didn’t even hesitate to slip his digits inside his mouth to clean them off and you felt your entire body heat up at the crude sight. It reminded you of all the nights where you’d go out to grab a bite after work and he’d be licking his fingers clean from frying oil and grease. You’d found it a turn on then, and it certainly was a turn on now.

“You’re an asshole.” You giggled at the filthy smile playing on his lips, getting your hands on his trousers and unbuttoning them.

You glanced between the two of you and stuck your hand inside his underwear to fish him out, heartbeat picking up at the weight and warmth of him in your hands. You could hear him breathing against the side of your head, pressing his lips against your temple and making a piss poor attempt of stifling his moan when you got a good grip on him and slid your hand to the base.

“Feel so good in my hand, Steve.” You hummed, closing your eyes and marvelling in the press of his body when his hand started giving out to the weight. He was moaning quietly into your ear, voice rough and raspy as you jacked him off. “Can’t wait to feel it inside of me.”

He hummed out a drawn out groan, bending a little at the knees to get a good grip on your right thigh and hauling it up over his hip. The new angle allowed him to nudge against you and you gasped, leaning into it.

You were too busy looking between the two of you, and you didn’t register his other hand sliding up to cup your cheek until you were staring right into his eyes in the darkness. He was observing you, you realised. The moment felt a little too intimate to have in a decrepit room after office hours, but you didn’t dare to look away from his gaze.

His thumb ran over the bottom of your lip. “You okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile, nodding your head to show him that yeah, of course you’re okay.

“I’m more than okay. Now, come on before the janitor makes his rounds.” You urged him, earning a startled laugh from the man.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, gripping himself and leaning a little more of his weight against you so he could notch right against your hole.

Your eyes fluttered closed when he pressed in, feeling him filling you up quicker than you expected but there was something about the burn that made you want more. So you didn’t protest, only gripping his shoulders tighter until he bottomed out.

Steve was watching your face the entire time, eyes struggling to stay open because fuck, the heat and the tightness of you gripping him made him feel like he’d died and entered the pearly gates of whatever heaven existed. The small hitches in your breathing was like music to him, and he longed for the day he could get you in his bed and fuck you properly until he had you moaning without the fear of being caught.

You were a loud one, that’s what he’d garnered from the one occasion you’d hooked up. But you were still holding back and he could tell by the way you gnawed at your lips and bit incomplete circles into his shoulders that did fuck all to silence your pretty sounds.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He murmured in encouragement when he started thrusting, hips meeting yours in the awkward angle but he knew he was hitting something good and deep inside of you. It was written all over your face. “Clenchin’ up so nicely around me. What a pretty sight you are.”

“Steve.” You moaned, treading your fingers in the strands of his damp hair and bringing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss.

It was all teeth and tongue, noses bumping and teeth knocking but it made you weak in the knees all the same. You indulged yourself for a few moments, letting yourself get lost in his taste and touch before breaking the kiss, leaning your forehead against his and watching him through blurry eyes as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Seeing Steve lost in the feeling, hips working against yours and arms grabbing at you to keep you steady and hold you close was a marvel to see. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get tired of the little pinched expression on his face when something felt particularly good for him; How his mouth would drop open into a little O and his eyebrows would draw together. Kind of like how they did when he’d sit across from you at your desks while he struggled to read Spanish.

Your stomach was knotting up, the telltale sign of your end nearing and you let go of his shoulder with one hand to shove it between your bodies and hook your hand into your panties.

The touch of your fingers against your clit made you clench, which made Steve’s thrust stutter and his breath get punched out of him.

“Keep going,” he encouraged you, nodding his head and jostling your head in the process form where it was leaned against his. “Touch yourself for me, wanna feel you come.”

It was cliché, and ridiculous how fast you neared the edge of oblivion at the whispered words he was speaking against your mouth. They sounded so demanding, breathless and absolutely filthy.

There was a second of desperation where the two of you clung to each other, his hips bruising yours and his hands no doubt leaving marks as he pulled you tight to his body. Your hand cramped up and you had just enough time to lean toward his shoulder and bite down before you were sent over the edge with a muffled shout.

You heard a distinct guttural moan, and you couldn’t tell if it was coming from you or Steve thanks to the sound of the blood rushing in your ears. But you could absolutely feel how he buried himself inside of you and let himself go, your already sensitive body shaking where it was slumped against his.

There was no telling who was holding up who, but you suspected that he was doing the brunt of the work because you couldn’t feel your fucking legs and your mouth was still open against his shoulder. You picked your head up when your senses slowly started seeking back into your body, making a sound in your throat when you realised that you’d been drooling.

Steve tilted his head to the side at the noise, gaze following yours and he let out an exhausted laugh.

“Is it weird if I find that hot?” He asked, voice hoarse and low and you laughed.

“Shut up,” you winced as he slowly let your leg back down on the grimy floor, slipping out of you in the process. “Oh, gross.”

Steve snorted, cupping a hand against your cheek and pressing a kiss against the side of your head. You bit back a smile at the tender gesture, busying yourself with adjusting your underwear so you didn’t have to look at him.

He didn’t say anything as the both of you got cleaned up as best you could, redressing yourselves and you didn’t want to chance a glance at him just yet. You didn’t know what you’d find written on his face; whatever emotion or expression it would hold. You weren’t quite ready to face it just yet.

You watched his back as he walked up to the door, eyebrows raising in amusement when he cracked the door open and peeked outside into the hallway. He must’ve deemed it clear, because he slid it open and stepped to the side, reaching a hand out to gesture you to get a move on.

You didn’t waste any time to slip back outside again, the hallway feeling much cooler than the stifling confines of the documentation room. There was nothing you craved more than a shower at that moment, feeling sticky all over. And the fact that you were absolutely ruining what was left to salvage of your underwear.

“Are we still on for that beer?” Steve asked, distracting you from your wandering thoughts and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

His hair was looking worse for wear, cheeks flushed and lips bitten raw and pink. There was no way that anyone could take a look at you and not think that you’d been screwing each others brains out. You almost feared looking in a mirror, afraid of what you’d find in terms of marks and scratches.

“I hope you have some at your place because all I have is milk.” You replied, earning a small shoulder bump from the man next to you.

“I’ve got you.” He opened the door leading the way out to the street. “Besides, I’ve got better fans in my apartment.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Yours was only days away from falling apart into pieces. You just hoped that yours wouldn’t break down tonight when this heatwave was still active and raging. You’d actually cry.

Steve unlocked his door and opened the passenger door for you, regarding you with a look in his eyes that made you stop in your tracks.

“What?”

“Would you wanna stay over tonight?” He asked, forehead wrinkling and your eyebrows raised.

He looked almost nervous. Uncertain. Like he didn’t know whether you were going to blow him off or take him up on his offer. It made you pause as you searched his face, and you didn’t know why you suddenly felt an overwhelming rush of adoration but it made your knees shake a little.

“You mean sleep in your bed?” You asked, voice lilting into a teasing tone and it made Steve smirk.

You watched him tilt his head back and forth, as if he was unsure but the smile on his lips was playful and it made you feel a little giddy.

“Amongst other things.” He replied and you laughed.

“Scandalous.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, tongue in cheek as he struggled to refrain from smiling too big. You turned and started to climb into his truck, the sound of a loud smack making you let out a loud yelp. You didn’t even register the slight pain in your asscheeks until you’d turned fully and sat down on the seat; Realising that he’d just slapped you.

“You’re a sleaze, y’know that?” You glared at him, but Steve only grinned like he was proud of himself.

He pushed the door open even wider and crowded your space, sliding his hands up your cheeks to cup them and bring your face to his. You blinked up at him, a little breathless at the sight of his blue eyes so close up to yours.

“You still like me, don’t you?” He murmured, corner of his lips tugging and you couldn’t help but press a kiss against it; Watching it transform into a smile.

“Just a little.” You lied, earning a longer kiss from him.

“I’ll take that.”

#narcos #steve murphy #steve murphy x reader #steve murphy x you #steve murphy smut #steve murphy one shot #steve murphy fic #steve murphy imagine #narcos smut #narcos series #narcos fanfiction

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epigstolary · 1 year

Text

Step by Step

“I’m starting to get a little too fat. I ought to try to lose some weight.”

You hear something small clatter to the ground, and look down to see a spinning button slowly coming to rest at your feet. Your puffy potbelly sags through the gap in the waistband of your now-buttonless pants. You try to pull your shirt down to cover the gap, but your belly is hanging too low and it keeps riding up to your bellybutton. The friends you’re with see your face turn beet red, and try to stifle a snicker.

“I’m getting a little too fat. I ought to try to lose some weight.”

You bend over to tie your shoes, and the sudden constriction of your too-tight t-shirt takes your breath away. You can feel your sumptuous belly and flabby tits, bulging outward, straining against the fabric. You do your best to suck in and hold your breath long enough to finish your knot, then straighten up and take a loud, noisy breath. It takes more effort than you remember to get to your feet.

“I’ve gotten a little too fat. I ought to lose some weight.”

The walk to the corner store seems a lot longer than it used to. Then you realize it’s because the extra resistance of your thickening thighs rubbing together, your ass cheeks being pushed up and dropped with every step, and the jiggle of extra fat in myriad unfamiliar places all over your body is what’s slowing you down. You stealthily pull the zipper halfway down your hoodie to let out some of the heat building up from your exertion.

“I’ve gotten too fat. I ought to lose some weight.”

Your friends look at you, then nervously at each other, as you load your fourth plate at the group potluck. Distracted by your craving for another helping, you don’t notice how pronounced your waddle is as you plod across the room. You also don’t pay much attention when you sit down on the couch, until your wide hips spread across the cushion, your belly pushes you back into the seat — and the couch lets out a loud CRACK beneath you. Everyone in the room looks your direction, and then tries to pretend they were looking at anything but your embarrassed chubby face.

“I’ve gotten too fat. I need to lose some weight.”

You sit behind the wheel of your car, in your driveway, the frustration and bafflement growing in your mind. You check, and yes, the seat’s all the way back; wheel’s still making a dent into the pudge of your belly, but there’s at least enough room. The belt’s at its usual shoulder height. You lift your side rolls, flowing over the armrest; and the clip is positioned where it’s supposed to be. So why, you ask yourself, won’t the buckle reach? You pull again, the strap pulling on and cutting into your flab as you strain to get it just that half an inch further… before giving up with a frustrated sigh. You drum your pudgy fingers on your stack of side rolls. Maybe an extender would be a good investment after all.

“I’ve gotten way too fat. I have to lose some weight.”

You try to focus on the smell of the cooking food as you stand over the stove, but all you can think about is the roaring ache in your back and legs. You lean against the kitchen counter, feeling your belly hanging and pulling against your back muscles, painfully aware of the whole weight of your thickening body resting on your flabby legs. All this, you think, from standing ten minutes making a pot of macaroni? With a last burst of energy, you grasp the pile of lard at your midsection, your fingers sinking into it, and heave it onto the counter. It groans under the mass, but the pressure releases from your spine and knees as the weight settles. It’s clear this isn’t going to work much longer. You figure it’s time to get a stool and start sitting when you have to cook.

“I’ve gotten way too fat. I really have to lose some weight.”

You never realized how many different kinds of brushes there were until you had to scroll through the hundreds listed for sale to find one you can use in the shower. You still feel the embarrassment from this morning’s discovery that, even sitting on your shower stool, there’s too much blubber surrounding your arms, love handles, and thighs for you to reach everywhere you need to wash with just your soapy loofah. You find one with a long handle and soft bristles that looks like it will fit perfectly under your sagging belly and between your billowing rolls. You add a case of those hard-to-find jelly-filled cakes you love to the order and select the expedited shipping option.

“I’ve gotten way too fat. I really have to lose some weight.”

The blubber encasing your body, hanging between your knees and over the sides of your mobility scooter seat, wobbles as you whir along down the frozen foods aisle. Your basket is already filled with chips, cookies, snack cakes, sugar cereal, pasta, ready-to-eat processed meals — your usual fare for the week — but you need a couple gallons of ice cream to get you through the weekend. As you reach for a carton of double chocolate fudge, you feel something give way in the scooter underneath you, which now makes a sickly buzzing noise when you try to operate the unresponsive controls. It takes all your strength to heave your bulk up from the seat, lumber your hundreds of pounds up to the customer service desk, and lean against the counter to catch your breath and try to ask for help. All the bewildered clerk and other customers can do is stare as you pant and cough, too winded and overheated to talk, your fat undulating with your labored breaths.

“I’ve gotten wayyy too fat. I really have to at least stop gaining weight.”

You wake, still groggy, realizing you fell asleep and spent the night on the couch again. You gather the blanket on top of the wide mound of belly in front of you, fold it, and set it aside before collecting the snack wrappers and soda bottles left sitting next to you from the night before. You’re still a little tired, so you’re not that surprised when you grab the arm rest and push up, letting your belly roll forward over your knees, rise a few inches off the couch, stall, and plop back into your spot, the broad cheeks of your ass spreading to fill the indent covering two of the three cushions. What does surprise you, after you’ve woken up fully and collected yourself, is that your second and third attempts go little better. Somewhat alarmed, adrenaline pumping, you finally get over the hump and lift your tremendous bulk into a standing position. A chill of worry ripples down your spine, as the thought of having to call the fire department to get you off your own couch flashes through your mind. You step slowly, deliberately toward the front door; and if you weren’t so distracted at the thought of the grocery delivery waiting for you, you’d notice the jiggle and pull of the thick layers of fat covering every inch of your body, dominating your motions and shifting with every step you try to take.

“I’ve gotten wayyy too fat. And now… I don’t think there’s anything I can do about it.”

#feeder fiction #gainerfiction #gaining #ssbhm #weight gain fiction #wg fiction #extreme weight gain #wg story #weight gain story #gainer stories

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tw1l1te · 3 months

Text

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼- 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 2

Part 2!! This will include Hyrule, Four, and Legend ₍ᐢᐢ₎

Warnings: mention of scars and negative mental health

Please read with the warnings in mind, this one is heavier in terms of mental health topics.

⋆｡°✩

𝕳𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖑𝖊

About 18/19, a couple years after his journey is done

Average height, his build is still toned but more on the leaner side because of height and anatomy

light freckles across his cheeks/nose and skin is tanner than the rest of the boys

Has 2 small cartilidge piercings, small silver hoops

Part fae, I know a few others headcanon him as fae too I just think it suits his character

Speaks and writes Hylian well, takes a bit longer to read though (he's trying his best)

Closer to Legend, they're the downfall duo :3, but also close to Sky

I wanna say he's like one of the last few boys to feel attraction towards Y/n. Fae bonding to humans is weird and Hyrule doesn't wanna freak you out and needs to really process it.

When he realizes he fell for you? Oh boy. Definitely more clingy and obsessive and frets over your safety, more than Sky even.

Major sweet tooth, favorite food has go to be spoonfuls of honey

Keeps a journal, lots of sketches and notes on herbs and flora and some thoughts on Y/n

Has a.... difficult relationship with Hylia/Zelda/the Goddess

Knows about some of Legend's past, not as much as Y/n though

Has a large scar on his lower stomach from Dark Link, and faded white scratches on his back from a past incident that I may or may not bring up later down the line

Do not let him near a cooking pot. Don't do it.

𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗

Our favorite smithy is about 18-19

He may be short, but don't let his height fool you. Mr. swordmaker here is built. You think all the hours hammering away at metal don't build muscle? You'd be wrong

Anywayss, I headcanon Four as having heterochromia, one eye green and the other a dark blue.

Has the lightest stubble, hardly noticeable because he shaves it everyday

Recently has also started tying up his hair in a pony tail, so he honestly looks like a younger Time from far away

Has lots of ear piercings and stacks rings on his fingers, most of which he made himself from spare parts. He made a few rings for Legend and Y/n

Develops feelings for Y/n slowly, though it hits him like a brick after the Yiga clan incident after realizing how close he was to losing you

Has a few scars on his hands and arms, a few burn marks from reckless accdients both in and out of the blacksmith shop

Has a tattoo of the Four Sword on his forearm

Ironically enough, close to Wild and Wind. He's keeping a tally of how many swords Wild has broken So far it's 46

Similar to Wild, he kinda has shaggier hair, though its only really visible when his hair is fully down without the headband

REALLY GOOD AT SHIELD SURFING FOR SOME REASON-

𝖑𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉

19, slightly older than Four and Hyrule

Average height, leaner build, and I wanna say he's on the paler side. He gets sunburned crazy fast like no amount of suscreen can save him

Pink hair, duh, but its more faded than it was when he first shifted into his rabbit form. It's more like leftover on his bangs and on part of his head.

Pinky is decked out in rings, every single finger is stacked with rings for functionality, protection, etc., but some he just thinks are neat.

Double pierced lobes, a few cartilidge piercings, maybe even a Hylian-equivalent of an industrial and has a dick piercing shh

Does not like wearing pants. no sir. Only if absolutely necessary.

Can speak/write Hylian and Lorulean pretty well, though pretty rusty on the latter because he hasn't used or read it much since his adventures

Like the 4th person to develop feelings for our protagonist, he's a little lost to be completely honest. Part of him wants to succumb to his feelings, the other is terrified of losing someone again

Close to Hyrule, Wild, and Wars ironically enough (mostly because of the bickering :D)

Keeps a scrap of Ravio's scarf in his bag, holds it sometimes.

Has a deep long scar along his forearm from a fight, some burn marks from the fire rod. He also has other scars that he doesn't show or discuss, those are difficult to talk about. He wasn't in a good place after.... everything.

Snarky and grumpy, but he softens up around people he trusts. He just needs time and love ₍ᐢᐢ₎

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe au #linked universe headcanons

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wndaswife · 2 years

Text

until death do us part

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

tags: smut, fingering, cunnilingus, choking, masturbation, cnc, loss of virginity, face slapping, pussy slapping, mommy kink, breeding kink, blood kink maybe, cum-filled strap on, jealous and possessive behaviour, heavy manipulation, dubcon, graphic depictions of violence, murder, dark!dom!wanda maximoff, sub!reader. MINORS DNI.

word count: 9723

summary: Your other friends say she's strange, and perhaps, obsessive. Ignoring everyone's precautions, Wanda Maximoff soon encapsulates your entire life, but when your best friend goes missing, it becomes difficult to defend her.

a/n: happy spookyday!!! tried to be scary n dark with this

gif credit to creator.

You see them from beyond your curtains on an autumn afternoon- a family of four moving into the empty house you’ve been neighbouring beside. You peek through your bedroom curtains, watching a silver-haired boy and a long-haired brunette girl and who you assume to be their parents moving boxes into the house.

When the girl, who seems about your age, looks up at your window, you dart out of sight to the side. Unbeknownst to you, she watches the rustling of your bedroom curtains as you attempt to hide from view.

Green eyes’ peaked interest explore the exposed areas of your room, the tall bookshelf and cute stuffies that line your headboard, until Iryna calls, “Wanda, get to work and help your brother.”

Four extra placemats are set up on the table as you’re setting it up for dinner later than night.

“Do we have guests coming?” you ask your mom, who’s placing different dishes of steaming food onto the middle of the table.

“The new neighbours,” she answers with a tired huff and straightens to look at you, hands on her hips. “Have you seen them yet? I was talking with the mother, Iryna, and she seemed quite nice. They’re from Sokovia.”

The neighbours were coming over for dinner already? The awkward exchange of being caught watching them unpack replays in your mind and you wince in time to avoid your mother’s questioning as she turns her back to you and hands you a stack of plates and utensils. You set up the rest of the table and went upstairs to get ready before they arrived.

Twenty minutes later, you run back downstairs after getting ready to set up the wine glasses you’d forgotten. A ring comes from the front door and your father goes up to answer it. You hear him greet the neighbours cheerily and your mother comes from downstairs, putting her earrings on. Nervously, you decide to greet the neighbours too.

You take their jackets, exchanging shy greetings with them as they hand you their hats and jackets.

“This is our daughter, Y/N,” your mother introduces you with an arm around your shoulders. “She’s in her first year in a campus in the city.”

“Ah! Wanda and Pietro are both in their third year and transferring to the campus here,” Olek, Iryna’s husband, says. He steps to the side and reveals two fraternal twins, the silver-haired boy and the long-haired brunette girl you saw earlier.

Pietro extends his hand first. “Hello, Y/N. It’s wonderful to meet you!” He has a wide, goofy grin pulled onto his face. He has dark eyebrows, blue eyes, and a rather muscled build.

“Hi,” you answer with a tiny smile and shake his hand. He shakes your hand rapidly and you’re massaging your sore hand under the pile of jackets when you take it back.

The pairs of parents and Pietro head to the dining room, chattering along the way. You stay behind in the front hall. You forget Wanda is there until you turn to the coat hanger and see her standing beside it. A gasp leaves you and you jump at the sudden presence. Had she just been watching you the whole time?

The twin takes a step towards you and takes the jackets from your arms. “Did I scare you?” she asks, jackets in hand but not turning to hang them up so she could look at you. Her voice is low and raspy, and simultaneously as smooth as honey.

“A little,” you answer meekly. Wanda hums in response, eyes running down your body inquisitively. You feel like a thousand suns embodied, your cheeks flushing and every inch of your skin alight under her gaze. She turns for the coat hanger finally and hangs the jackets and hats up.

“Shall we eat?” she asks when she turns back to you.

After realising you had just been looking at her, perhaps in bewilderment or admiration you did not know, you stutter out. “Y-Yes! Let’s eat.” Wanda follows behind you as you head to the dining room.

Once you sit down, Wanda takes the empty seat between you and her twin. You find yourself watching your every move as you sit beside her, listening to the conversations at the table as you go through dinner as unobtrusively as possible. You looked over at Wanda’s sometimes, and if she wasn’t already looking at you, her eyes would find yours within moments, to which you always looked away instantly.

Wanda doesn’t utter a word during dinner save a few hushed exchanges with her twin that goes unheard by the rest of the table. Despite his bubbly, energetic exterior, he was demure with his sister, who was nothing if not his complete opposite. You were almost jealous of the relationship, of the unsaid intimacies between them, evident of years of closeness. Wanda eyed you from beyond the long brown locks of her hair.

“Y/N,” your mother says after taking a sip of her wine, “why don’t you go upstairs and show Wanda your room?”

“Da, Wanda, go have fun,” Iryna concedes.

The Sokovian looks over to you and stands from her chair. You look up at her and nearly stumble out of your seat as you follow her around the table. She meets your side as the two of you head upstairs to your bedroom.

When you look over at her, she does not meet your eyes for the first time. Instead, she is looking up at the second floor of your house as you walk upstairs together. “So, you’re transferring to campus here?”

Wanda turns her head to look at you and your breath catches in your throat. “Yes. Will you show me around there too?” she asks. Her expression is still, serious, but her eyes are inquisitive, notably when the light from your bedroom catches her green eyes and she tilts her head curiously.

“Yes. Sure. I’ll show you around,” you answer, swallowing your nerves. You let Wanda into your room first and her eyes roam your bedroom silently. You close your bedroom door behind you and suddenly feel insecure about your bedroom, the soft pink paint of your walls and the stuffies that decorate your bed.

Wanda looks so out of place as she steps further into your room, looking around. She is wearing thigh-high ripped leggings, a black dress and a red lacy bra that peeks from atop it. Layered necklaces adorn her chest and rings shine around her slender fingers. Green eyes stick out from beyond her eyeliner-outlined eyes. She would think you were childish for your room decor, and she wouldn’t want to spend time with you anymore.

She takes a seat atop your pink-blush duvet patterned with bunnies and strawberries. Her black fingernails run across the smooth plain of your blanket. “It’s cute in here,” Wanda says. She’s smiling at you when you look at her, and it’s as if she’s a completely different person from who she was downstairs. She looks far more relaxed now, leaning back while she watches you walk through your bedroom predatorily with glints in her eyes.

“Why don’t you sit with me?” she offers, her tongue running across her bottom lip. Wanda leans forward, her eyes darkening and a grin pulling at her lips. “Do I make you nervous?”

Panic rises up your throat and you stutter out pathetically, your hands raising to scratch at your arms, fidgeting. You have no idea how to react to this side of her. A girl with dark cascading hair and eyes that would take lightyears to explore was a presence you could hardly keep yourself together around even while she had on a monotonous expression and spoke little to nothing around you, but to have the same girl grinning at you from across the room as she sat on your bed turned your legs to jelly.

Wanda stands and she walks over to you and takes your hand. She leads you back and she sits down on your bed, pulling you down with her. “You are such a timid girl,” she notes, her other hand coming to your thigh as she pulls herself closer to you. Her accent makes you blush in ways you cannot rationalise and you look away from her.

“You’re different from before,” you say, then look over at her now that you’ve gathered enough nerve to speak properly.

She is closer than she was before, her eyes looking down on your meek expression as you gather what strength you have left in you. Her dark hair tickles your neck. Wanda looks amused by your shy response to such little attention. “Disappointed?” she asks you.

A weight drops in your stomach at the sound of having offended Wanda, but when you look up, she’s looking down at you, her head tipped to the side curiously. There is a small sly smile on her lips. You only remember her hand is on your thigh when it travels upwards, squeezing softly. The contact reins you back to reality. “N-No. Not disappointed. Surprised.”

Her smile widens, evident of amusement as you stutter out your responses. “I think I like you very much, Y/N,” she says.

You have no classes the following Monday, and Wanda doesn’t start classes until next week, so she drives the two of you to campus, where she anticipates the tour you promised her. You talk with Wanda about the education she had in Sokovia, her application to her program, what she looks forward to once classes start. But mostly, Wanda wants to know about you.

“We talk about me too much, moya lyubov,” she says, taking a seat on a bench and pulling you down with her. You’re pulled down right beside her so Wanda’s face is not more than several inches away from yours. With one of her hands holding yours, Wanda places a hand on your thigh again. “I want to know about you.”

“What do you want to know?” you ask, leaning back on the bench so Wanda’s face is positioned on top of yours. The compromising position makes your body flush with heat despite the jacket you’re wearing.

Wanda lets go of your hand and tucks your hair behind your ear, then whispers, “Everything.”

A voice chirps from your side, down the trail, “Y/N! I knew that was you.” You look to the side, through the locks of Wanda’s hair, at a figure waving at you, bright blonde hair irrefutable.

Wanda is glaring down at you, eyes running down your expression as the intruder’s identity becomes clear to you. Your soft lips pull into a smile, for someone other than her, and you wave back. She slips off of you, allowing you to sit up as the idiotic blonde approaches the bench.

“Hi, Carol,” you say, and you stand up. She hugs you, and it becomes difficult to avoid the piercing glare from the girl sitting on the bench behind you.

When you pull away from each other, Carol extends a hand to Wanda. “It’s nice to meet you. The name’s Carol,” she introduces herself with a wide smile.

Wanda eyes her hand, debating whether or not to shake it or pull her fingers from her knuckles. Would you be angry with her if she did? She stands up instead, uttering out a disinterested, “Wanda.” She rounds the jock to wrap an arm around your waist. “We ought to get going. Don’t you think, lyubov?” Viridescent eyes look down at you tucked against her chest protectively.

You nod up at her. Your cheek, squished up against her jacket, makes Wanda melt.

“Wonderful meeting you,” Wanda says scornfully, looking over her shoulder to Carol as she pulls you away from her. You don’t hear the contempt in her voice as she addresses your friend, but instead you bury yourself in Wanda’s arms as she squeezes you. A kiss is pressed to the top of your head.

You spend the rest of the day with Wanda, huddled up in your bedroom while she asks you everything she was curious about- primarily things to do with you. She asks about your favourite colour, the rest of your friends, your favourite films, and wildly personal questions you don’t hesitate before answering. You’d develop a closeness to Wanda within the last few days of knowing her.

Wanda’s head is held up by her hand as she looks down at you curled up against her side on your bed. “Are you a virgin, Y/N?” she asks. You suddenly become hyper-aware of the way Wanda’s wrist rests on your hip, her fingers running down your exposed midriff. You nod. She lowers herself down to place a kiss on your neck. “So, no one’s ever touched you like this?”

Her hand slips under your shirt, the pads of her fingers running up the valley of your breasts. Her lips wrap around the skin of your neck and she sucks softly. Her tongue flicks over your soft skin.

Your breathing hitches and you try squirming away from her, but Wanda’s leg wraps around both of yours, pulling you back against her.

“Don’t move away from me,” she tells you. Her teeth bite down on your skin and you yelp. Wanda only laughs, and you feel her grin against your skin. “It’s just me, baby.” Wanda cups your breast, moaning dramatically at the feeling of groping you. She starts humping against the swell of your ass while she grunts softly in your ear.

Pressure begins to grow between your legs and your thighs squeeze together uncomfortably. It was true that you were a virgin, yet you weren’t completely unaware of what Wanda was doing. She was getting herself off on you as she rubbed her clothed cunt against your ass.

“Wanda, this feels weird…” you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut and enduring the strange feeling.

Her tongue runs up your neck, savouring the way you shuddered beneath her. “I know,” she answers. “But it feels so good for me. Just lay still for a while.”

You try pulling away, but Wanda takes hold of your wrist with one swift movement. She pulls you so you’re on your back, and she mounts you, straddling your waist. Her hips are riding forward so she can rub her clothed pussy against your stomach, entirely unrestrained.

“I don’t wanna,” you protest, raising your hands to your face as Wanda starts to undress. Her shirt is pulled over her head, then her bra is unclipped. She leans down to take your hands from your, her breasts bouncing in your face as she humps herself against you.

“You’re being a bad friend,” Wanda snaps. “Shut up and let me do what I want.” She pins your hands above your head and holds your wrists in place with one hand. With her other hand, Wanda gropes her own breast, and despite the way you wiggled beneath her trying to escape her hold, you feel your virgin pussy throb as her erect pink nipple peeks out from beyond her slender fingers. Your thighs press together as your clit craves contact.

Moans start spilling out of Wanda as she bounces on top of you desperately. Her hips’ thrusts become ragged and she lets go of her breast to slip a hand beyond the waistband of her jeans. You hear the squelching of her pussy as she slides her fingers into her hole, and you know Wanda is riding her fingers while she bounces on top of you. “Ah! Y/N, you make my pussy feel so good,” she cries, head thrown back as she brings herself closer to her orgasm.

Out of respect for her and your own humiliation, you feel the need to look away, yet your eyes can’t find the strength to look anywhere but at her. With the way she’s mounted on top of you proudly, her full breasts bouncing in your face as she rides her fingers and moans your name out as the one who brings her pleasure is encapsulating.

Your hips buck up desperately, and Wanda squeals before falling forward onto you. Her breasts press against your clothed chest and she pants in your ear as her body moves against yours. She continues to finger herself frantically, her mess of hair sprawled out around your bed. You cannot remember why you ever wanted her to stop.

Her hold on your wrists loosen. Curiously, you slip a hand between your bodies and find Wanda’s nipples. You take one between your thumb and forefinger and pinch the hardened bud. Wanda arches from your body, her laboured face clear as stands of her dark hair stick to her forehead. You pinch harder and she starts bucking her hips down against her hand faster.

You’re enamoured by the sight. Wanda’s eyes open and she looks down to meet yours, a shaky smile forming on her lips as she watches your stunned expression. Wanda takes your first kiss, pressing her soft lips against yours, moaning against them as she continues to look down at you through heavy eyelids. Her lips are parted against yours, and she pants into your mouth.

“I’m coming, Y/N,” she tells you. In one swift movement, Wanda takes your wrist and slips your hand down her pants, pressing your cold digits against her pussy. Wanda begins grinding her swollen clit against your hand and she reaches her hilt, arching on top of you and moaning out. You silence her cries with your lips, panic rising in you as you recall your parents’ presence downstairs.

Wanda takes your bottom lip between her teeth and bites down, drawing blood. You yelp into her parted lips and Wanda chuckles. “Oh, you’re so cute, malyshka,” she coos. She runs her tongue up your split lip, then wraps her lips around it until your blood coated her tongue and she swallowed. She moans at the flavour and pulls away to kiss you.

With her fingers wrapped around your wrist, Wanda slips your hand out from between her thighs and brings her own coated fingers to your lips. She pulls away from the kiss and pushes two of her glistening digits into your mouth. With your eyes looking up at Wanda’s, your lips wrap around her fingers.

Pleased with your submission, Wanda ducks her head down to the crook of your neck. She trails wet kisses up your neck noisily and runs her tongue flush up your cheek. “I want to taste your pussy,” she mutters against your temple and presses a kiss there, inhaling the scent of your hair. Wanda slips her fingers out of your mouth and rubs her thumb against your cheekbone.

She begins to descend down your body, her hands gripping your sides harshly. She runs them further up your waist, then up the sides of your breasts. Your shirt is pulled over your head and Wanda lays it atop of hers on your bed. Her face is buried in your breasts, kissing the perfect swells and nipping at every inch of skin her lips run over.

You’re looking down at her, your heart swelling in fondness as you watch Wanda worship your breasts. She reaches around and unclips your bra, slipping them from your shoulders and placing it to the side too. Wanda runs her tongue up one breast, the tip of her tongue flicking at your nipple and hardening it. “Wanda… feels so good,” you whimper.

Her teeth tug at your other nipple with a grin. “I know,” she says, then wraps her lips around your bud, sucking softly. She gropes at your other breast and pinches your cute little peak. She moves down further, arching your back from the bed with her hands so she can press wet kisses down your stomach. You loll your head back, shaky exhales leaving you as your body melted in her hold like clay.

“My beautiful girl,” Wanda moaned against your soft skin. With her fingers wrapped around your waistband, she tugs your pants down and runs her tongue up the inside of your thighs. She tosses the garment to the side and runs her hands down your calves. “Spread these pretty thighs for mommy, princess.”

You spread your thighs, exposing your pretty pink panties drenched through with your juices. You squirm uncomfortably under Wanda’s gaze, her hands running down your hips soothingly. Before five minutes ago, you’d never even had your first kiss, let alone been naked in front of anyone before, and Wanda had taken no time before undressing herself and getting on top of you, touching her wet cunt and bringing herself to orgasm despite your protests.

The interaction vested within Wanda your complete trust. You trust that Wanda knows what’s best for you, no matter how hard you might argue like the stupid, mindless little girl you are.

Wanda parts your thighs further, ducking her head down and burying her nose within your clothed folds. They part stickily and Wanda hums excitedly, eager to devour you. Her hands travel down your inner thighs slowly.

“Wanda, I don’t want-”

She spanks the side of your ass and reprimands, “Don’t talk back. Be a good girl and stay quiet.” At the sight of you nodding, Wanda runs her palm over your stinging ass softly. “Don’t worry, baby. Mommy knows how to take care of you.” Wanda slips your panties down your thighs and brings it to her lips, running her tongue up its sticky coating. She moans at the taste and tucks it into her pocket.

With two thumbs, Wanda parts your sticky folds, humming in awe at the way you glistened. She ran her tongue through them, groaning in pleasure as your flavour coated her tongue. Her lips wrapped around your clit. “I love your pussy,” she moans out. She buries the lower half of her face further between your thighs, nudging her nose against your throbbing clit.

Your hands tighten around your sheets until your knuckles turn white as you cry out. The feeling of Wanda’s tongue flicking at the rim of your virgin hole was nothing like masturbation, and certainly nothing like humping your tight little pussy against your stuffies desperately.

A nimble tongue slips into your cunt while Wanda’s thumb draws circles against your clit. Her lips wrap around your sticky folds noisily as her tongue dips in and out of your hole, moving within your tight walls. You’re a moaning mess beneath her, jerking your hips up against her face. When her teeth graze against your clit because of your shaky hips, you cry out, rubbing your clit further against her upper lip.

Wanda reaches up and slaps your tit, grinning at the way you yelped. She slaps you again then tugs at your nipple. God, how much she loves hurting you. Her arm reaches further up, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and making you look down at the way she’s eating your pussy. She parts from your cunt, the lower half of her face coated in your sticky juices.

Her other hand travels down to between your thighs. Two fingers rub against your hole, dipping the tips of her fingers in and out of you. “You like being touched like this, slut?” she asks. Her tongue stretches out from beyond her lips and she flicks at your clit teasingly.

“I like it, mommy,” you whimper. You grind down on her fingers, desperate for more contact. Wanda pulls away from your hole and slaps your pussy with her palm. You recoil away from her, but with her hand still around the back of your neck, Wanda keeps you still, then slaps your cunt again. With the heel of her hand, she rubs against you, listening to the squelching of your sticky pussy folds. She kisses the inside of your thighs.

“Mommy, please. I wanna come,” you beg her.

Wanda smirks up at you and draws circles against your pussy with her fingers. She hums suggestively and crawls up your body. “You wanna come, you fucking whore?” she asks, towering over you. Wanda releases her hold from around your neck and slaps you across the face, seemingly just to hurt you without reason.

You sob, “Yes, mommy. Please, my parts are so icky.”

“Beg,” Wanda tells you simply.

Tears well up in your eyes as you grow frustrated, squirming under Wanda helplessly. “Please, mama,” you plead, enunciating your words as you begged. Your arms wrapped around her waist and hugged her tight against your body. “Pussy is so icky. Please help me.”

Wanda buries her face in the crook of your neck, and without warning, three fingers are shoved into your pussy, and simultaneously, Wanda bites down on your neck. Your back arches from the bed, crying out in blind pleasure and pain as you rolled over against Wanda’s body.

Your tight walls are stretched out as Wanda parts her fingers inside of you. Wanda’s knuckle rubs against your swollen nub before she pulls her fingers out and slams them back into you. Her teeth rake down your neck, panting hot against your skin. Her fingers pick up speed and you cry out into Wanda’s hair. You felt yourself stretch out around her fingers, your body arching into hers as she took your virginity.

A hand gropes your breast painfully, nails scratching at your skin greedily. The squelching of your tight pussy reaches your ears, not nearly close to being drowned out as you moaned against the side of Wanda’s head. Wanda’s other hand travels down to your ass and she grasps at it painfully. You yelp out, “Mama, that hurts!”

Wanda lifts her head to meet your eyes, then kisses your lips. “Come now,” she tells you. “I want my little girl to come for me.” Your walls tighten around her fingers and you bury your face in Wanda’s chest. Her thumb flicks side to side against your clit.

You mewl, screwing your eyes together tightly as you feel yourself coming ever closer to your climax. Your hips jerk against Wanda’s wrist, the coil in your lower stomach growing tighter, and tighter, almost painfully. Then it finally snaps. A long cry escapes from deep inside you and Wanda grins against you as your soft walls clench around her fingers. Your hand tightens its grip around the blankets. Her fingers pump in and out of you, decreasing in speed as you ride through your orgasm. Carefully, she slips out of you, sticky ropes of your juices connecting to her fingers and knuckles.

While Wanda licked your juices from her fingers, you buried your face in her chest, panting heavily and trying to catch your breath. Wanda pet your hair with her other hand and with clean fingers, she lifted your head up to look at your flushed face. “Tell me you’re mine,” she says, a pleased smile on her face.

“I’m yours,” you say without hesitation. Wanda kisses you, her fingers massaging the sides of your neck softly. Then she wraps her hand around your neck, pulling you into the kiss and tightening her grip. She grins into the kiss.

“You sweet thing,” Wanda whispers. She pulls you against her with her arms around your shoulders. “All mine,” she says into your hair, then presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Every moment of your days are spent with Wanda from then on. Every one of your friends has had something to say about it. None of them liked her. To each of them, the Sokovian was possessive and overly jealous, claiming ownership over you after having known you for such a short time, like an owner to a pet puppy no less.

Wanda didn’t seem to take a liking to any of your friends either. She insulted them at every given chance, and sparing no kindness when telling them exactly what she had been whispering to you when they asked.

Subsequently, you’d been spending less time with your friends and more time with Wanda. She discouraged you from seeing your friends. You had no problems with it- you loved Wanda, and she wasted no time in telling you that she loved you too.

‘They haven't even called,’ Wanda told you once when you worried if your friends were wondering how you were. ‘If they cared about you, they would check up on you like I do.’

The things they told you enraged her, from things like saying Wanda was deranged to obsessive and that you needed to stop being friends with her. There was no second thought behind making decisions for you. She blocked their numbers from your phone and deleted any of their missed calls and concerned text messages before you could even read them.

They didn’t know anything about her relationship with you, and they were in over their heads if they thought they could even think about making a comment about it. They were brainless idiots anyways, talking about childish things you didn’t need to fill your pretty little head with. All you need to think about is her. You don’t need your other friends.

When Wanda walks over to your house after class, you’re already at your door, and Wanda smiles at the sight of you. It drops once she sees you are not alone. A redhead stands in front of you on your porch, her body language loose and open as she stands in front of you. The two of you share a laugh and Wanda feels as if her entire body is set aflame.

As she approaches your front porch, she hears the girl’s laugh, and Wanda knows it is Natasha. Natasha, the girl who quite obviously had a crush on you, and from what Wanda heard from Yelena, she’s had a crush on you since childhood. The bitch knew you since you were children, yet it was her who took your virginity, who had her fingers deep in your pussy in your own bedroom after knowing you for just under a week. She will never know how it feels to have your body tremble underneath her as she brought you to orgasm, the delicate moans from beyond your soft lips as you cried out in pleasure. She will never know anything but yearning after you fruitlessly.

Wanda rounds Natasha and stands by your side, wrapping an arm around your hips.

“Wanda,” you greet and turn in her hold to look up at her. “How were your classes?” But Wanda isn’t looking at you. She’s looking at Natasha, her gaze hardened and quite focused on your friend.

“It’s been a while since we’ve heard of you, Wanda,” Natasha says, and Wanda stifles a laugh. “Y/N hardly talks about you.”

The humour drains from Wanda’s face at her mention of your relationship with her.

Oblivious of the tension between the two of them, you speak up, “Well, that isn’t true. I was just talking about Wanda a moment ago.”

Wanda tugs you behind her and she steps forward. “Why are you here, Natasha?” she asks.

“Why don’t you ask Y/N?”

“I’m asking you.”

Natasha restrains a bristle, unnerved and irritated at Wanda’s protective behaviour over you. “Carol’s birthday is this weekend. I was asking Y/N if she wanted to come. It’s been such a while since we were all together,” she answers.

Peeking over Wanda’s shoulder, you look at her face only to find an expression you’ve never seen on her before. Her eyes are wild with fury, the corners of her mouth twitching as she cycles through her next words in her mind carefully. Natasha seems amused by the sight, the cocky Russian staring back at Wanda, almost daring her to make a scene in front of you. You shift uncomfortably from beyond Wanda’s shoulder, but she only held you in place behind her.

Wanda straightens, her expression easing unnervingly. Because you never spent time with her around anyone else, it was new to you to watch the way Wanda regulated her emotions in front of other people, the rage that she was capable of feeling that you had never seen. The sight makes you think of how little you actually know about Wanda as you recall all the hours spent talking about you. That’s what Wanda had always been curious about, after all.

“I will see if Y/N can attend,” Wanda answers Natasha for you, regardless of whether you’d answered her offer already, which you had yet to. She turns around and leads you into the house. “It’s been wonderful catching up with you, Natasha,” she says, tossing a disinterested smile over her shoulder before slamming the front door in her face and locking the front door.

“You’re not going,” Wanda says simply and passes you to head to your kitchen. After entire days were spent keeping you company at your house, especially while your parents worked late hours, your house became Wanda’s. It made your heart swell when she made herself at home.

You follow behind her. “Why?” you ask. When you stand at Wanda’s side, tugging at her arm, you watch as she lathers on a layer of peanut butter and jelly onto two slices of rye bread.

“Because I say so,” she answers. She lays one slice of bread atop of the other and splits it diagonally. She gives you the bigger half. “Isn’t that a good enough reason?”

Taking the sandwich, you reply begrudgingly, “Yes, but-”

“Yes, but nothing. I say no, and that’s final. I don’t want to hear anything else about it.”

Later that night, you’re cuddled against Wanda’s body under your blankets, a laptop on her lap as a movie plays on the screen. You shift uncomfortably under the sheets and bury your face in Wanda’s neck.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” you press again, hiding your face from Wanda’s inevitable vexed expression.

“Why do you want to go, malyshka?” Wanda asks and pulls away from you to look at you sternly. She takes your chin with her fingers and angles your face up so you look up at her from her shoulder. “None of those whores even care about you. They just want you there to make fun of you like they did before.”

“They don’t make fun of me,” you try to protest, but you’ve always felt different from your friends. It was only until you met Wanda that you realised how right you’d been. You’re grateful for her, and you rely on her to tell you the truth about everything, but it’s difficult for you to admit to yourself that they truly didn’t care about you.

Wanda clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, her eyebrows furrowing together in pity. “Oh, baby, you know that they do,” she answers. A kiss is pressed to your forehead and your arms wrap tightly around Wanda’s waist, clinging onto her desperately. “You know that they can’t wait to talk about you behind your back the moment you leave them- that’s why it always seems like they just can’t wait to get rid of you. But I would never do that to you, puppy. You always have me.”

As you have ever since Wanda took your virtue, you fell asleep tucked against the crook of Wanda’s body, her arms wrapped around you protectively, even in her sleep.

When Wanda slipped out of bed, pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaving your bedroom, you merely stirred before falling asleep again. Hours slipped away into seconds before Wanda was back in bed with you, her hair damp and freshly showered. You don’t question a single thing before you let yourself melt in her arms again, falling asleep against her chest.

The next morning continues as it normally does. Wanda wakes you up with a flurry of kisses to your face. She brushes your teeth and then your hair, picks out your panties and bra, and then your outfit. There is a section of Wanda in your bathroom and your bedroom, evidence of her all but living with you for the last few weeks.

You and Wanda spend your Saturday watching her favourite sitcoms in the living room until mid-afternoon when a knock comes at your door. Wanda comes with you when you open it, and standing there is Yelena Belova.

“Hey, Y/N,” she greets. You know she must have had something occupying her mind, because Yelena doesn’t wait for you to respond before she speaks again. “Have you seen Natasha? She hasn’t been answering her phone and she isn’t at home. We hoped she was busy planning for Carol’s party, but none of us have seen her. Is she here with you?”

Worry peaks within you and you straighten, looking over the normally laidback Yelena panicked over her sister’s absence. “Natasha? No, I haven’t seen her since yesterday,” you answer, hoping to be helpful. You try to recall if she’d said anything strange, but your thoughts are cut short when Wanda speaks.

“She came here yesterday to talk with Y/N. Neither of us have seen her here since she left,” she elaborates, specific in implying that she spent the whole day with you. Wanda often did ever since the two of you had met. Her parents didn’t mind at all, although she and her twin brother sometimes texted to check up on each other.

Yelena’s eyes linger on Wanda for a few extra moments, but you hardly catch onto it before Wanda places a hand on your lower back.

“Will that be all?” she asks Yelena.

You cannot understand the begrudged twinge behind the blonde’s words when she grits out, “I guess that’s it.” She looks over at you and her gaze softens. “Will you let any of us know if you see her? She’s usually not this avoidant, even when she’s busy.” You nod in response, and Yelena nods at you thankfully. She eyes Wanda for a moment as she turns and steps down from your porch.

“I hope Natasha’s okay,” you tell Wanda at dinner while she’s mixing a handful of red peppers into a pan of stir fry.

Wanda hadn’t ever taken quite a liking to your friends, and she did well to let you know, but you wouldn’t have ever expected the way she responded. “Don’t mourn that bitch, Y/N. She wouldn’t bat an eyelash if it were you in her shoes,” she snaps.

Mourn?

“Her shoes?” you repeat. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t like when you ask questions like this, as if you doubt me.”

You close your mouth immediately, watching Wanda cook in silence. You know better than to press on when she was evidently irritated, especially when it had to do with your trust in her. Wanda demands your full trust in everything. The easiest way to anger her is to question what she tells you.

Natasha isn’t seen for the next few days. You talk to your parents about it, and they tell you she likely took time off for herself. She used to get like this years ago, taking weeks off from school without uttering even a single word to any of her friends. You try to believe them, but you find you cannot. Natasha would’ve gone to Carol’s party. If she is anything, she is someone who shows up.

Although you don’t know it’s because your friends can’t contact you as Wanda had blocked their numbers on your phone, there is an increase in the amount of visits to your house as your friends question Natasha’s whereabouts.

“How about Wanda, then?” Kate asks, sitting in your living room after coming in Yelena’s name since she’d become too overwhelmed to leave the house. She can’t spend a moment out, worried that Natasha might come back to an empty house.

Sitting on the opposite couch, you ask, “What about her?”

Unbeknownst to you, Wanda is sitting at the top of the staircase, listening into your conversation intently. Ever since your friends started coming around more often, Wanda decided to figure out what they were really there for, and they wouldn’t say anything useful with her around you. But she never strayed far.

“Does she know anything about Natasha?” Darcy questions.

You try not to bristle visibly. It’d been the eighth time you’ve heard someone accuse Wanda of having something to do with Natasha’s disappearance since Yelena came to your front door that one afternoon. “I already said Wanda was with me all night,” you answer.

Monica reasons, “You don’t know where she could’ve gone while you were asleep, or if everything she tells you is even true.”

Anger suddenly heightens within you. The patronising tones and the tiptoeing around the elephant in the room as if you were an idiot- Wanda was right. Your friends didn’t care about you, and unless they were getting answers from you, they didn’t care about how you were feeling both about Natasha being missing and being interrogated about Wanda constantly despite your truthful answer every time they asked.

You stand from your seat. “I trust everything Wanda tells me. If she tells me she knows nothing about it, then she knows nothing about it,” you firmly establish. “I think you should all go. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

You show them out of the house, and the moment you lock the door behind them, a pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you back. Wanda kisses the top of your head, then nips at your earlobe.

The steady rising and falling of your shoulders, the soft rhythm of your breath, becomes your metronome as you close your eyes and steady the wild galloping of your heart rate. You find that it was not only anger that had overtaken you earlier, but the frustration of uncertainty also. You’d defend Wanda until the end of your days, but it had come to you earlier today that you truly had no verbal guarantee from her that she hadn’t had anything to do with Natasha disappearing.

Was it evident of intimacy to not need one at all? Was it a sign of your trust in each other that she hasn’t yet told you she didn’t see Natasha that night, and that you haven’t yet asked? Would it be better to keep quiet about it, to trust Wanda without a doubt?

“I’m all you need, baby,” Wanda whispers. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

You turn your head and are met with Wanda’s gaze, looking down at you softly. She presses a kiss to your lips and leads you backwards, then upstairs to your bedroom where she sings you Sokovian lullabies and plays with your hair until you fall asleep.

The soft cooing of her lullabies are almost indistinguishable from the way Wanda tries to wake you up save the gentle shaking of your shoulder, to which your eyes flutter open to see her towering over you and stroking your cheek.

“Wake up, my little doll,” she says and kisses your cheek. “I’ve got something to show you.”

Within a few minutes, you’re in the passenger seat of Wanda’s car. You drive past what feels like hundreds of trees touched by the cool wind of autumn. Shades of orange, red, yellow, and brown fill your eyes. It’s only the early cracks of morning, and behind every wind-rustled branch is a dark plain of blue, scattered with thin slivers of pink and orange from the slow-rising sun. You could see it begin to peek out from the horizon and you feel warm.

You’ve been driving for nearly forty minutes, and by now, there is a scarcity of houses and an increase in farmland. You wonder how Wanda knows the place she is driving the both of you to. She’d only just moved into the city. Where had she gotten the time to explore this far out?

Soon, a myriad of warm colours encases the entire car as Wanda enters a forest. You are awestruck by all of them, pressing your forehead to the window in attempts to look up at the tall trees, towering over the car in mighty confidence, beholding themselves to all who passed. Not a shadow shrouds their every bare branch and saturated leaf, yet they remain beautiful still.

The rest of the journey is on foot, Wanda tells you, and she parks her car on the side of the forest trail. She has an arm around your shoulder while you hold her around the waist with both arms. A dark figure appears within the forest as the two of you venture forth.

“What is that?” you ask Wanda, looking up at her hesitantly as you stop in your tracks. But she progresses and you are forced to as well.

Wanda replies, “Nothing important.” Her eyes become increasingly focused on the dark shape, contorted and unseemly, as the two of you drew closer to it. “But it is what I’ve brought you out here to show you. I imagine you’ll be quite pleased.”

You fall behind the Sokovian as she steps forth. You dig your fingernails into a tree in an attempt to soothe your nerves. You do not know why you feel nervous, but you do. A pit has opened itself up in your stomach. Perhaps it will grow big enough for you to fall into.

“She put up quite a fight. I got scratched up,” you hear Wanda say.

Then, you see it. A pair of boots on the figure’s body. Then hands, and a jacket. Legs and a torso. It’s a body.

You stumble backwards and wonder how much it would hurt if you fell backwards. Would a tree impale you right through the stomach with a fallen branch? But you do not fall back. You remain standing as Wanda puts her hand on the bag around the body’s head and pulls it off.

Its identity is unknown to you for a moment, but when you step forward, its features become clear. Beyond the cut-up open wounds and purpled face, bruised and evident of a fight, you realise it is Carol. Your eyes run down her distorted figure, her hands pulled back and tied together around the stump of a tree, her legs positioned uncomfortably as she was no doubt forced down.

You duck your head behind the tree, bile rising up in your throat as you shut your eyes tightly. But images of Carol’s beaten body replay in your mind and you force your eyes open. When you do, Wanda is standing in front of you, and this time, you do fall back.

She catches you, pulling you against her and walking you to her body. You fight against her, but Wanda has always been stronger than you.

“This is the one feeding your friends poison,” Wanda says into your ear, “telling them I hurt Natasha and that you should break up with me.” She scoffs. “You should have read the things this bitch said, Y/N. Ridiculous. That I’m sick in the head and deranged. I’ve never heard anything further from the truth.”

Because of the way she focuses so sternly on Carol’s body, disgust stricken across her face, Wanda does not notice the way you look over at her in horror. Your entire world comes crashing in on you, its foundations melting at your feet.

“Wanda…” you speak shakily. She looks at you and is struck by confusion, her eyebrows furrowing together and her head tipping to the side as she sees your unnerved expression. “Did you…”

You swallow, not knowing if you are strong enough to ask the question. But you know it must be asked. You know that… Carol’s body changes everything.

Forcing the words out, you ask, “Did you have something to do with Natasha disappearing?”

Wanda’s eyes darken, as they had before on the front porch when they talked, the last time you saw Natasha.

Carol awakens, her body stirring as she repositions her legs and her body. Her hands tug on the rope tying her arms back around the tree, and she panics, her eyes darting around as she begins to recall what had happened before she was knocked unconscious.

When her eyes meet yours, she starts sobbing out strings of ‘help’ and ‘please,’ and you’ve never felt more sick. You lurch over as you feel bile rising up your throat again, but Wanda, who seems to have snapped out of her daze, bends over to look at you. Her hand runs down your back soothingly.

“Don’t!” you choke out and push her back. “Don’t touch me. You’re crazy.”

“I’m crazy?” Wanda repeats incredulously. She steps towards Carol and takes a handful of her hair in one hand, tugging at it painfully. “What’s crazy are these god-forsaken people that won’t let me be with you! That’s crazy!”

You wipe at your tears as you continue to stumble backwards.

From her raw, scratchy throat, Carol shouts, “Run, Y/N! Get away from her!”

Wanda throws Carol’s head down forcefully, straining her neck as she steps over her ankles and walks over to you. Disguised as a stumble, Wanda steps down onto one of her ankles, a loud crackling echoing through the forest as her ankle shatters under Wanda’s heel. A guttural scream is ripped from the very depths of Carol’s lungs as she writhes against the tree. You wince at the sound, tears stinging in your eyes.

“Don’t come any closer, please! I’m-I’m warning you!” you shout pathetically, raising your hands up as your fingers tremble.

But Wanda’s voice is as soothing as it’s always been, her eyes soft as she steps closer to you, as if there wasn’t a mauled Carol Danvers tied up against a tree behind her. “My love, you’ve never spoken to me like this before,” she coos. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Come be with mommy. I thought you would be pleased, seeing her tied up like this after what she’s said about us.”

“You-You did something with Natasha. I know you did,” you sob. “A-And Carol. I trusted you, and you hurt them.”

“I did it for us,” Wanda tells you, and you wipe your tears to look at her properly. “You’ve heard what they were saying about us- about me. Do you really think people like that deserve to live in the same world as us, malyshka?” When you don’t reply right away, Wanda knows she has you.

She catches up with you, taking your hand in hers and cupping your cheek with the other. “I would do anything for you. You are my future, my everything. There’s no one in this world who could love you as much as I do. You know that, don’t you?”

The way Wanda’s eyes met yours like it had hundreds of times before, the way she held you as if the two of you were simply in bed, the soft coo of her voice as she spoke; this was the same Wanda you’d always known, unshrouded and beautiful. You nod finally and you hear Carol cry out behind Wanda.

“Y/N, you can’t fall for what she says!” Carol shouts. “Look at what she’s done to me, think about what she’s done to Natasha!”

The darkening of Wanda’s expression returns and she lets go of you. She walks back to Carol’s side, bends down and places a hand on either side of her face, and with one swift movement, snaps her neck. “The noisy sow,” she spits. Wanda kicks her lifeless body, watching as her head lolled to her shoulder unnaturally. She rounds the tree and begins untying the rope. “Help me bury her.”

While Wanda digs a deep pit in the forest ground, you sit by Carol’s dead body. She looks so different now. The dead look wildly different from the living. You wouldn’t have guessed. Wanda then drags Carol’s body into the deep pit. It’s about eight feet tall, four feet wide, and seven feet deep. The soil is loose, you noticed while she was digging, allowing Wanda to dig quite deep with ease.

“I’ve buried them together,” Wanda says as she’s piling dirt back on top of Carol’s body. You’re helping, a little, as you’re kicking dirt onto the pit with the side of your shoe. “Natasha on the bottom. Carol always did like people looking up to her, that narcissistic bitch.”

When the pit is completely covered, Wanda throws the shovel down with a tired huff. She walks over it to you, putting her hands on your hips and walking you backwards. “Big day for my little girl, huh?” she says, looking down at you. “I’m so proud of you, baby, helping mommy like a good girl.”

You nod happily. Proudly.

“You ought to get a reward,” Wanda coos. She ducks down and buries her face in your neck, kissing up your skin. She turns you around so your front is pressed against the tree Carol was tied up on. Wanda’s hips grind into you from behind and you feel a bulge rub up against your ass.

Your pants and panties are pulled down to your thighs, where they slip down to your ankles. Wanda gropes your ass with both hands, fingers massaging into them painfully. She kisses the back of your neck as you squeeze your thighs together. You hear Wanda start to pull her own pants down, and a stiff strap is pressed against your ass.

“You feel that, princess?” Wanda hums. “All for you. My perfect girl.” Her fingers run through your slit, teasing at your clit until you’re trembling against the tree and bucking your ass back into Wanda’s hips.

It’s wrong, and you know it, getting all wet and helpless at the sight where your two friends are buried. But you truly can’t help it. Not when Wanda touches you the way she does, whispering sweet promises into your ear.

“I’ve killed for you, baby,” she husks as she takes hold of her cock, running its tip through your sticky folds. “Who else can say that?”

You hear the way you squelch when Wanda slides the entirety of her length into you. It takes little to no resistance with the way you stretch for her, your wet pussy taking her cock like the stupid cockwhore you are. “Mama, h-hurts,” you tremble out.

“I don’t care. Take my fucking cock like the slut you are,” Wanda grits, then pulls your jaw down and spits into your mouth. You swallow as if it is in your nature to take what she gives you without question. When Wanda begins to thrust, you’re a shaking mess, your knees giving out as you slide down the tree weakly. Your body jerks into the harsh wood. It scratches into the heels of your hands as you try to hold yourself up. With a hand rounding your hips to play with your clit and the other groping your breasts, Wanda holds you up as if you were a lifeless doll.

Your head lolls back onto her shoulder as you moan out. Wanda kisses your neck, her hips thrusting up at your bare ass as you take her thick cock.

Suddenly, Wanda steps down and gets onto her knees. She lays you atop the dry leaves that flash red and yellow before your head hits the ground and your vision blurs. Wanda is soon fucking you from behind as you try holding yourself up on the grassy plain of the forest ground. Your fingers dig into the dirt and you cry out as Wanda starts to pick up speed.

She pulls back and spanks your ass with her palm, delivering a sharp echo through the forest. “Moan as loud as you want, whore,” Wanda grunts into your ear as she lays against your back. “No one can hear you out here.” She takes ahold of your hips and slams you backwards onto her strap, applying friction to your swollen clit.

The slapping of skin sounds through the forest as grunts and whimpers find their tempo.

“You like how mommy stretches out this pathetic little pussy, hm?” Wanda groans from above you. “Gonna fill you full of my yummy cream, and you’ll have my pups. Does that sound good, baby?”

You shake your head against the grass, smelling the scent of wet leaves and fresh dirt. “Don’t wanna…” you moan out, drooling down against your cheek.

“Fill you full of my puppies so you’re mine forever,” she continues. “Fuck you whenever I want like the perfect little breeding bitch you are.” Wanda reaches back and slaps the side of your thigh. “That’s right, you fucking whore. Come for mommy. Show me how badly you want to be my cockslave.”

You have no choice in the way your body convulses underneath her as a harsh cry is fucked out of you, your orgasm pushing through your fragile body in violent waves. Wanda pumps your pussy full of her faux cum, her hand on her cock as she ensures to fill you to the brim. You’re nothing more than a used up hole as you ride the last moments of your high, your still back arched painfully and your ass stuck up in the air when Wanda pulls back from you.

She stands and zips her pants up. Wanda presses several kisses to your raw, reddened ass as she pulls your panties up. She rubs her cream into your pussy through your panties. You jerk away from the contact and Wanda pulls your pants up.

You’re pulled up from the ground and carried with an arm around your shoulders and another around the front of your hips as Wanda walks you back to her car, shovel tucked under her arm. You feel her cum ooze out of your pussy and coat your inner thighs all the way back home, where Wanda gives you a warm shower, kissing your sore body all over.

“Mommy’s here, baby,” she whispers in your ear when you wrap your arms around her in bed. “Always here to protect my sweet little girl.” Wanda sings Sokovian lullabies to you once more as she always has. The two of you fall asleep in your bed, and Wanda awakes you in the afternoon, peppering your face with soft kisses before she leaves for class.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x reader #marvel smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #mommy wanda maximoff #marvel fanfiction

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coeurify · 1 year

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eating sub!ellie out, please? 💜

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: course baby, hope u enjoy <3. i went a bit overboard, this was only supposed to be like 500 words.. 18+ under cut.

Your favorite place to be may be between Ellie’s thighs. Hands pressing the flesh and muscle of the bare skin open so she can’t try and run away from the feeling you give her, eyes set straight up on her heaving chest and trembling lip. What a gorgeous sight it always was, no matter where it may happen.

It happened in a lot of places really. The kitchen counter, the table, the bed, the couch. Whenever you wanted her, you had her. It was often you found yourself in the small slice of heaven that was Ellie’s thighs, and neither of you complained about it.

Whether it be when she woke up with bed head, still slowly wiping sleep from her eyes as a long white shirt hung from her figure, yawning as she stepped down the hallway. You love how she is in the mornings, when she's still building up the walls she puts on to the rest of the world, tough and stiff. When the bricks are still stacking in front of you, the only one who knows how far from real they are. One press of your finger and that wall was tumbling down, sending the shittly made wall to dust under your toes. Ellie was much less of that intimidating stoic girl that most of Jackson saw her as, and more like this.. bleary eyed and whiny in the first pinpricks of morning sun through the curtains. Well, maybe that was only for you.

Or if it was when she came home from patrol, dirt stains over the jacket she was wearing, shoulders sore from the day. The floorboards creaking as her voice, always softer for you, pleaded for help to take the heavy fabric off. You always did, bathing in the feeling of your girlfriend only being able, willing, to ask for your help. She always looked so pretty like that, lip pulled between her teeth and fiddling with her finger as she asked. You loved how she shivers as your hands dance over the zipper or buttons, pulling it off and pressing your palms against her arms to soothe the ache there.

Or even if it was a lazy day off, something you didn't often experience. Often she would have her auburn hair tucked behind her ears, healing bruises across her cheekbone as her eyebrows furrowed— working her fingers tightly around a pencil as she drew something in the journal of hers that only you were allowed to see. You would watch her with a smile, one that always reached your eyes. She’d usually tell you to stop staring, or to fuck off. She never meant it, and often was made to apologize for that mouth she had on her.

It didn’t really matter the circumstances, the setting. It just always sent that fire tumbling up in your belly, mouth watering at the sight of how gorgeous she was. Gorgeous for you. It always ended with her pushed against some surface, falling apart for you in a way no one else got to see.

Today it had been after a shower, clad in a pair of your shorts she always stole and some old tee-shirt, sat on your shared bed as she rambled on about something that happened that day. Her fingers pressed the still damp strands of hair behind her ear as she spoke— focused entirely on the story she was telling. You tried your best to listen, really. But she smelt like that soap you had washed each other with. Her cheeks were red from the hot water still. Her body was resting comfortably against the pillows, and she just looked so.. cozy. You couldn't help yourself. It took up every fraction of your brain (the ones lighter and darker). Parts that whispered into your eardrum that she looked so pretty, that her freckles looked so kissable today.. and others that reminded you how no one else got to see her like this, no one got this side of her but you. It fanned the flame in your ribcage, edging you on.

You couldn’t have stopped even if you tried, climbing on the bed and nudging her thighs apart. The way her lips parted to stop her words when you did so only made her look even more delicious. A small string of wetness pulled at your own lips, body salivating at the sight of your girlfriend’s bare legs. Like the good girl she was, she shifted up a bit more against the headboard, spreading her legs for you without question.

“Just gotta have a taste,” you mumble as your head dips down, kissing her lower thigh. You could feel her tense, breathing slower above you. Fingers wrapped into the elastic of the shorts she’s wearing, clinging them together with the boxers under them and pulling them down her thighs, kissing each inch of bare skin it passes.

“Always taking my clothes, hm?” you chastise with no real venom. Ellie just shrugs above you, trying her best to look unphased. “Was too lazy to find mine,” her words have a slight breathiness to them as you continue the wet kisses against her thighs, aiming them closer to the end goal now.

Your eyes roll at her words, which you know are true. Ellie never cared much for the look of things, as long as it wasn't overly girly.. and definitely didn’t waste much time organizing things to find later. So you don't doubt she had opened one drawer of the dresser near the bed and took whatever she saw first. But it still made you feel some sort of power to see her in your clothing. You’d have to remember to make her wear one of your shirts tomorrow.

Back on your current mission after the small daydream, you nip at the flesh of her inner thigh, smiling against it when Ellie squirms. Always so responsive for you. You suck the skin into your lips, running a finger over the blossoming red mark it leaves. You repeat the action a few more times, always purposely ghosting over her now dripping core.

“Shit babe, stop teasin,” Ellie mumbles above you, cutting her words harshly to keep out the whine you know is bubbling there.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Ellie. Let me enjoy first, needy girl,” are the words that travel up from you in between her legs. They swirl around her brain, the syllables forming a warm blanket over her body. The name sends her head back against the headboard, blushing. That was all it ever took to get her all polite for you, a praise or a sweetly said insult.. a squeeze of your hand.. a pet name. For a girl as tough as Ellie it sure is easy to make her submit for you.

Her complaint only makes you go slower, another five or so minutes spent painting her pretty skin a cherry sort of red that you knew would settle into pretty black and blue bruises. Ellie took it all in stride, mumbling small curses to herself and tightening her core to stop from bucking up. You like working her up before this before actually having your fill. It just made her even more vocal later on, which you absolutely adored.

It was difficult for you, to deny yourself of that constant need you had in your throat to be pressed into her center. But it was always worth it when the first pretty whine passed your girlfriend’s bitten lips.

“Ask me nicely,” you murmur against her, licking over the bite marks.

It takes Ellie a minute, still falling into the space you knew she needed to be in, lip puffing out in frustrated little breaths. But it still came, right after another whine as your teeth moved even closer to her lips.

“Please, baby please,” Ellie mumbled, finally letting her mind slip out of the tightly barbwired state it was always in. One shaking hand moved to grip the bedsheets, threads pulling under her blunt nails.

Those three breathy words were all you needed, finally.. finally pressing forward, wasting no time licking up the sopping mess she had already made. You don’t give her the relief of finding her clit right away— this was for your own pleasure right now, lips painting a glistening shade as you moan against her.

“Taste so fuckin good, so wet for me..” you praise, unable to help the, “soaking the bedsheets like the needy girl you are,” that follows.

Ellie’s whole body shivers, a sweet little moan passing her mouth as she stops herself from grabbing at your hair, knowing you hadn’t given her the permission to do so.

You catch the way her fingers flex into the soft blue sheets, other hand balled into a fist on her chest, fingers rubbing the fabric of her shirt between the pads of her thumb and forefinger, self soothing. Its sweet, how she holds herself back until you tell her what she can do. Sweet in the sort of way that overwhelms your senses, leaves your stomach a little sick, teeth a little sore. The sickly sweet feeling mixes with the ever growing fire that sat there, creating something new leftover in the pit of your insides.

“Can grab my hair babe, it’s alright,” you coo. Ellie wastes no time, one hand finding your damp locks as you push your head back down, lips pressing into her folds again, this time a little less lax. You were searching to make her weepy center even wetter, throat dry in a way only Ellie’s pleasure could cease.

The long fingers tug gently at your hair every time your tongue makes a movement that’s brand new, every time your nose presses against the hard bud of her clit. Ellie’s hips are bucking above you, slipping further down the bed into a more comfortable lying position. You move with her, lips never detaching from her center. One arm instead wraps around her thigh and you push even more into her, tongue on a new mission to fuck into her dripping hole.

It draws a new stream of sounds from the girl above you, choruses of whines and whimpers pressing out into the otherwise quiet air. “Fuck- Shit—“ Ellie cries, following it up with a repeat of your name. It sounds so pretty coming from her that you double your efforts. Your other hand reaches to press a thumb at her clit, circling it.

The sensation makes Ellie cry out, hips needily pushing against you. If you weren’t so enamored by her constantly dripping pussy you would have scolded her, maybe pressed her hips down and kept an orgasm just out of reach. But eating her out always tended to get you a bit.. drunk, a favorite sort of tipsiness clouding your mind.

Ellie never pushed too hard, knowing better. She always tries her best to be good, something she only works to be when you have her like this. Her head found the pillow, pulling at your hair again as her own shorter locks got messy against the pillow.

You can't even make out what she's saying anymore, ears ringing in tandem with the harsh beat of your heart as you feel her clench around your tongue. It's some mixture of curses and begs that you hope to pull out of her again later when you can appreciate them more, when you can revel in the complete power you have over Ellie, over what a mess you made her. For now you just focus on the wet sound right at your level.

You are almost certain you could stay here forever, making the girl you love so dearly fall apart like this. Maybe you would, if Ellie could handle it. Wring orgasms out of her all night until neither of you could take it anymore. The idea seems just as delicious as the wetness on your lips. It leaks into your hand, pressing harsher to make your idea a reality.

Ellie comes after one more harsh circle of your thumb, one more thrust of your tongue.. and it’s beautiful. The noises she makes above you pass through your ears and tug tightly at your brain, cementing the need for her even more. Your name leaves her lips so many times as she clenches around you that it doesn’t sound real anymore, just a bundle of sounds and letters. It's a prayer for her, repeated over and over as her hips still, shaking at the pressure. You catch as much of the slick from her orgasm that you can, messily lapping at each drop.

You don’t stop after she calms down though, not even a bit. You merely slow down to that lax pace again, picking up any leftovers that you can, teasing her sensitive clit.

Ellie realizes what you’re doing after she tries to push away, fingers releasing your hair to instead press at your head. When she’s met with nails pressing into her flesh, her lip quivers. “Fuck, no- cant take it,” the green eyed girl whimpers, pressing her eyes closed and arching away the mattress.

“Yes you can,” you mutter against her, “and you will.”

#rins reqs ❀.#ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #sub!ellie williams

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hajimakitten · 2 months

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𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙀𝙎𝙏 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙀. | OT7 BTS reverse harem

author's notes: hey, guys! it's been a long time since i wrote something on here, so i'm super excited to get a full story going. i have to say that i'm ready to see what happens between ryley and bts. who do you think is going to try their hardest to make things work first?

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

The Return of Bangtan | Chapter One

Under the neon glow of Seoul's cityscape, the air was buzzing with an electric anticipation that could only mean one thing: BTS was back. After the members had dutifully served their time in the military, the city was ripe with chatter and speculation about their grand return to the stage. In a sprawling dance studio tucked away in the great HYBE building, seven silhouettes moved with a kinetic energy that belied their time away from the spotlight. Beads of sweat glistened on their foreheads as they ran through the choreography for what must have been the hundredth time that evening. The mirrored walls reflected their precise movements, a symphony of popping joints and sharp intakes of breath; they were the epitome of synchrony. "Okay, let's take five," Namjoon called out, his voice a mixture of authority and warmth. The leader of the group always knew just how to tread the line between discipline and comfort. The members collapsed onto the floor, a tangle of limbs and laughter. Jin, ever the oldest and self-proclaimed 'Worldwide Handsome', sprawled out dramatically, claiming he was too old for such intense practice sessions. Taehyung laughed, nudging Jin with his foot, while Jimin playfully mimicked Jin's dramatics, causing a ripple of laughter to pass through the group. Yoongi, eyes closed, was lost in the music playing in his earbuds, tapping out a beat on his knee that was probably meant for their next hit song. Hoseok, the group's sunshine, handed out bottles of water with a bright smile, while Jungkook flexed his muscles and complained about how the military had made him too buff for some of his older clothes. In the midst of all this, their fearless leader stood by the windows, peering out into the city. "We've got to make this comeback concert the best one yet," he mused. "It's not just about the music; it's about the message. It's about the connection." They all knew the weight of his words. This wasn't just another concert; it was a reunion with their ARMY, a testament to their growth, and a declaration that they were still here, still strong. As the evening waned, the group rehearsed their vocals, their voices harmonizing in a way that felt like coming home. The new single was a bold mix of genres, a testament to their evolution as artists and individuals. It was a track that promised to get their fans' hearts racing. The days flew by, a blur of rehearsals, wardrobe fittings, and press interviews. Before they knew it, the night of the comeback concert had arrived. The air backstage was a cocktail of nerves and excitement. The group huddled together, their hands stacked in the middle of the circle. "Bangtan! Bangtan! Bang-bang-tan!" they chanted, their rallying cry since their debut days, a reminder of the journey they had embarked on together.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ryley could hardly contain her excitement as she rifled through her closet, searching for the perfect outfit to wear to the BTS concert. Samantha, her best friend and partner in all things Bangtan, sat on the bed behind her, giggling at Ryley's frenzied energy. "Ryley, calm down! You're going to have a blast no matter what you wear," Samantha teased, tossing a pillow at her friend. "I know, I know," Ryley said, trying to rein in her enthusiasm. "But this is BTS we're talking about! I have to look perfect!" After what felt like hours of deliberation and outfit changes, Ryley finally settled on a trendy ensemble that she hoped would catch the eye of her bias, Namjoon. She twirled in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection. As they made their way to the concert venue, Ryley couldn't stop jokingly talking about how she and BTS were soulmates. Samantha rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile at her friend's infectious excitement. "You know, Ry, I think you might be taking things a bit too far," Samantha joked. Ryley shrugged, undeterred. "I just really feel like I'm meant to be here. Y'know?" Samantha chuckled. "Sure, sure. Just don't faint when you lock eyes with Namjoon, okay?" Ryley playfully nudged her friend as they joined the throngs of fans streaming into the concert venue. The energy was electric, and Ryley felt her heart race with anticipation. As the night progressed and BTS took the stage, Ryley got lucky with a space close to the stage and managed to lock eyes with Namjoon, and she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her. She could see the intensity in his gaze, the passion in his performance, and she found herself captivated by the depth of his presence. But as much as she felt drawn to him, she couldn't quite grasp the meaning of it all. Was this what soulmates were supposed to feel like? Or was it just the magic of being in the presence of her favorite idol? Lost in a whirlwind of emotions and music, Ryley danced and sang along with the rest of the crowd, feeling like she was part of something bigger than herself. And as the concert came to a close, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something more to this connection with Namjoon than she had ever imagined.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The concert was a whirlwind of pyrotechnics, heart-stopping dance breaks, and soulful ballads that left the crowd screaming for more. The energy in the stadium was palpable, a living, breathing entity that fed the members' performance. It was during their encore, the stage awash with soft purple light, that Namjoon's gaze drifted over the sea of Army Bombs. And there, in the crowd, his eyes landed on Ryley. She wasn't particularly different from the rest at first glance, her hair a cascade of waves, her hands up in the air, moving to the rhythm of the music. But there was something about her, an inexplicable pull that had him pausing mid-verse. Jin, noticing the hiccup, followed Namjoon's gaze and nudged Yoongi, pointing subtly. One by one, each member's attention was drawn to Ryley, and with each pair of eyes that found her, the same unspoken thought reverberated through their minds: 'Soulmate.' The music swelled around them, but in that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to the connection that crackled like static in the space between the stage and the crowd. She was just another face in a sea of thousands, but to BTS, she was a beacon, shining with a light that seemed to whisper of destiny. There was something about her, a feeling that she was meant to be part of their journey, a piece of a puzzle they didn't know was missing.

As the final notes of the song rang out and the stadium erupted in applause, they exchanged looks, each member's expression a mix of awe and confusion. "Did you all—" Jin began backstage, only to be met with a collective nod. "Yeah, we did," Yoongi confirmed, the ever-stoic rapper showing a rare flicker of curiosity. "Guys, we can't just all have a soulmate in the crowd," Hoseok laughed, trying to dispel the tension, even as his heart raced with the same bewildering emotion. Jimin simply smiled, a quiet acknowledgment of the shared experience, while Taehyung mused aloud, "But what if we do?" Jungkook, ever the pragmatic one, chimed in, "We'll probably never see her again, so let's not get carried away." Yet, as they left the stage, the image of Ryley lingered, a mysterious beacon in the night that refused to fade away. The members of BTS were no strangers to strange occurrences—after all, their entire career had been a series of serendipitous events—but this felt different.

This felt personal.

#bts #bangtan #bts army #bts fanfic #bts fic #bangtan sonyeondan #hajimakitten #bts fluff #bts angst #polyamory #poly!ot7 #poly ot7 #bts poly au #bts x oc

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anbuselvi1 · 1 year

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Best SARMs Supplement: Top 7 SARM Alternatives for Bulking, Cutting, & Strength

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#best sarm stack for cutting #best sarms for cutting #best sarms stacks for bulking #best steroid cycle for bulking #best steroids for bulking #bulking #bulking cycle steroids #bulking cycles #bulking steroids #exercises for low back pain #fat burners for weight loss #how to build muscle for skinny guys #sarms cycle for bulking #sarms cycle for cutting #steroid alternatives #steroids for beginners #steroids for muscle building

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reminiscingtonight · 1 year

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Head Over Heels

Leah Williamson x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

[WOSO Masterlist]

Leah doesn’t mean to stare. Really, she doesn’t.

But when you lift the bottom of your shirt to wipe away the sweat on your forehead, Leah can’t help the way her eyes drift down to your abs. You’re all fit, most girls having well defined muscles themselves, but something about yours has Leah biting down on her lip, staring unabashedly as she helps collect loose balls around the field.

One of the girls shout at you, telling you to stop showing off your assets. The shirt stays in your hands, but you stop wiping at your face, confusion etched all over your expression. It’s sometimes cute how oblivious you are to your good looks and even better physique.

Leah’s still watching when it finally clicks for you, the embarrassed smile turning into a knowing smirk. When you start posing, playing to the hoots of your teammates, Leah stumbles over her feet.

And straight into Katie.

The Irish woman lets out an indignant cry when she drops the stack of cones she just spent the last couple minutes picking up. “Leah!”

Somehow it takes the two of them longer to pick up the spilled cones than Katie did by herself. The two of them keep pushing each other, their laughter and jokes making the process ten times longer. By the time Leah remembers what got her in this mess in the first place, she doesn’t know how much time has passed.

Leah raises her head to see you already looking her way. The second your eyes make contact, your smirk instantly fades into a shyer, more genuine smile again. Your hand raises in a half-wave greeting.

Leah ducks her head, a blush instantly spreading across her face.

---

As much as Leah loves football, she always dreads weight training. Yes, it’s important to build muscle and keep up her strength, but damn is it tiring and damn does it allow her mind to drift to many places it definitely should not be drifting to.

Especially when you’re in view.

You’ve just switched positions with Lucy, the defender having just finished her own reps. Lucy helps you get the weight off the rack, keeping a careful hand on your back until she’s sure you’ve got your feet firmly planted.

And then you start squatting.

Leah has to fight the urge to groan. See, she would be fine if you were not checking your posture in the mirror or maybe just not standing right in front of her. But the problem simply lies in the fact that you are standing in front of her. And you are facing the mirror. Which means Leah’s getting an eyeful of your ass every time you go to squat.

Leah’s not sure how she’s going to survive conditioning today.

The music playing overhead on the speakers cycles through song after song. The entire time Leah just watches you go through the motions of your own exercises. It isn’t until there’s a strangled wheezing sounding off from next to her that Leah rips her eyes away from you and back to where they should have been all this time.

“Shit!” she hisses, quickly grabbing hold and racking Keira’s bar.

The first thing her best friend does is rub at her chest and hack out her lungs. Keira’s next act is to repeatedly whack at Leah’s thigh.

Leah squeaks in response, instantly recoiling from the hits.

“I cannot believe you risked my life to ogle (Y/N). She’s hot, I get it, but c’mon Leah.” Keira looks more amused than annoyed, but she still looks a bit annoyed nonetheless.

“Hey, be happy you don’t have to see this every week.” Beth chuckles from her spot next to the other two Lionesses. “Leah’s about ten times worse when exposed to (Y/N) lifting weights back with the Arsenal girls.” The blonde striker ignores the glare Leah throws her way.

“Let’s be honest, nothing’s worse than going to the beach with the two of them,” Keira jokes back.

Leah’s seconds away from strangling the two girls next to her when she notices movement from the corner of her eye.

She refocuses her attention back towards you… just as you make eye contact with her through the mirror.

Your eyes go wide at the same time Leah’s does. Your face burns a little bit when you realize she’s been watching you while hers does so for being caught.

Leah awkwardly scratches at the back of her neck, wondering how in the world she’s going to explain this away when your look of surprise quickly morphs into one of amusement.

And then you wink.

Leah jolts so suddenly that she slams into the weight rack, sending the loose weights crashing to the floor.

---

Leah’s not sure why she thought taking a bunch of rowdy football players to a bowling alley was a good idea. But she did. And now here you all are.

Some of the younger girls are causing a ruckus near the bowling lanes, another half of the team scampered away into the arcade the second you walked in. You’re sitting quietly at one of the tables in the back with Lia, the two of you deep in conversation while Leah and another group of the girls grab some food for the rest of you.

She must’ve been staring too often, for she’s only just paid for the food when Caitlin starts poking fun at her.

“Earth to Leah, Lia and (Y/N) aren’t going anywhere,” the Australian snickers.

Caitlin’s observation catches Steph’s attention, the second Australian quickly jumping in on the fun. “If you stare any harder, you might burn the two of them into crisps.”

“The two of you are literally the worst,” Leah complains, face turning red from their teasing.

It’s rare to ever find a day when the team goes out and not have at least one of them make fun of the way Leah’s so obviously smitten with you. It always makes it all the more fun when you’re always oblivious to the way she stares or clumsily runs into things whenever you’re in her presence.

Good for Leah, she’s actually perfected tuning out most of the teasing. After all, you can’t really get far in life if you don’t have thick skin. It isn’t until both of the Australian’s eyes go wide, fixated right over her shoulder that Leah tunes back into the conversation. However, neither of them have a chance to say anything before Leah hears a familiar voice.

“What’cha guys laughing at?”

Startled, Leah turns around, accidentally knocking over one of the cans next to her in the process. She watches with horror as it drops towards the ground. She’s mentally imagining the amount of work she’ll have to do to clean it up when a hand darts in front of her.

You snatch the can out of the air before it can make contact with the ground.

“Hi,” Leah breathes out.

Your grin turns dopey. “Hi, babe. I think you dropped this.”

Leah blushes when you hand her the soda can.

“I’d wait a little bit before opening it.” You look over your shoulder mischievously. “Or give it to Katie.”

Caitlin lets out a bark of laughter at your suggestion. “I think she might kill you if you did that.”

Eventually the four of you move on to another topic of conversation, hoping to kill more time until the rest of the food arrives. You’re unusually silent, more than content to rest your chin on Leah’s shoulder, hands wrapped around her waist.

“Any reason why you’ve decided to come join us?” Leah hums during a lull in the conversation, relaxing against your arms.

“Just missed you.” You shrug as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.

Caitlin fake gags. “You guys are disgustingly in love.”

“As if you don’t do the same with your own girlfriend,” Steph snorts. She gives you a fist bump when you hold your hand out for one.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” the forward grumbles.

“Not so fun when you’re on the receiving side now, isn’t it.” Leah tsks under the breath.

All she receives is a death glare, one she is quick to ignore.

When your food finally arrives, the two Australians are quick to depart. You and Leah take your time, carefully stacking the trays.

You probably could’ve grabbed some more, but you seem content with having one hand pressed against Leah’s back. There’s really no reason for such a touch, but Leah couldn’t find herself to complain.

Except for the fact that the feel of your hand is a little too distracting.

Leah doesn’t even make it past the first set of stairs without nearly face-planting. It’s only your arm dropping to hook Leah’s waist that stops her from meeting an untimely demise

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I think it’s cute when you stumble over your feet.” Your words are accompanied with a cheeky grin and a wink.

So okay, yes, Leah might be a klutz whenever you’re near her. And your friends might all tease her for never being able to stay on her two feet. But at the end of the day, Leah wouldn’t have it any other way. As long as you’re there to catch her, she wouldn’t mind falling for you every day.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #engwnt x reader #engwnt imagine #Ace writes

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hisaacswrites · 10 months

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Brainworm #3 - Body Image

Ghost is built.

That’s not a question or up for any debate- Ghost is 193 cm of solid mass and brute strength. He’s a bulky boy with the skill to use it to his advantage. He’s built thick and sturdy, his muscles deceptively hidden by a layer of protective fat that have people underestimating his speed, agility, and strength. He’s a sniper, yes, but he needs to be able to transport his gear, to move equipment and information and targets, to carry his team on his back (literally) out of a war zone if necessary.

So yeah, Ghost is built.

But he’s not built like Johnny.

Johnny who has no shame in his body, taking off his shirt at the slightest inconvenience (Ghost isn’t sure if he believes the “overheating” excuse anymore). Johnny who is built but also cut, every muscle defined and on tantalizing display. Johnny is shorter that Ghost is, sure, but he’s no less strong, no less able. His pecs are sculpted, not presenting as some sort of… uni-boob in shirts like Ghost’s do. His waist is trim, the shape drawing the eye in and down, not like the thick column of Ghost’s own that spills over his waistband when he sits. And his thighs- Ghost could die happily between those thighs- the carved lines of muscle looking like they were painstakingly crafted by Michelangelo himself, unlike the stocky build of his own that press embarrassingly tight into the seams of every pair of trousers that he owns.

Ghost knows he’s not built like Johnny, and it was fine, it would have been fine, but now that they’re together and not just Lieutenant and Sargeant, Ghost and Soap, but Simon and Johnny, now that Ghost gets to see every inch of that beautiful tanned skin almost every single day-

Now Ghost knows just how he stacks up against Johnny. He knew that he didn’t bring much to the table, mental, physical, and emotional traumatic baggage notwithstanding, but he had hoped he could at least offer this…

So, yeah.

Ghost is not built like Johnny.

And it torments him to see exactly how much he’s lacking.

—————

Soap is built.

He knows it, his team knows it, everyone on base knows it. Soap did not work, does not work, this hard for his physique not to flaunt it. He has a carefully maintained workout routine and monitored macros to ensure he’s in optimal shape- his body is a palace, and he treats it as such (job allowing). Every muscle group is carefully cultivated, grown and shaped so that none overshadows the other. He may be shorter than most of the hulking giants on base, he may be considered stocky, but one look at Soap’s physique proves that he’s no less capable than them. He’s proved it on the mats while sparring, he’s proved it in the training fields going toe to toe with the younger recruits, and he’s proved it out in the field in hand to hand combat, time and time and time again.

So yeah, Soap is built.

But he’s not built like Simon.

Simon who is tall and imposing and authoritative, commanding a room with just his presence alone. Simon who is built solid, built for strength, not just pretty like Soap and every other gym bro on base. No one questions Simon’s strength or ability- his body alone makes it clear, unlike Soap who has to defend himself in words and actions again and again and again. His arms are like solid bands, near impossible to escape from, unlike Soap’s who has to leverage his smaller size to outmaneuver his opponent. His chest and stomach are thick, supporting a strong core that can body slam an attacker with ease, while Soap’s own abs can get him through PT tests fine, but need constant additional training for practical field work. And his ass. God, Simon’s ass. Full and plush, filling out every pair of trousers that he owns in the most sinfully distracting way, the exact opposite of Soap’s defined(!!!), but largely flat, behind.

Soap knows he’s not built like Simon, okay? And despite his best efforts, he hasn’t been able to achieve the mass and heft and sturdiness that Simon has. Because now they’re Simon and Johnny, and he’s blessed to see Simon unmasked (and unclothed) almost every day, and he gets to press into the plush softness of Simon’s flesh unrestricted, gets to surround himself in the unquestioning strength and safety Simon’s body exudes-

Because that’s how Simon makes him feel. Safe. Safe to survive, safe to try, safe to be.

And Soap faces his downfalls every day. Because he’s not built like Simon and Simon gives him everything, is everything, and he just wants to be able to give a fraction back to the man who deserves so so much, even if it’s just his body-

Because, God, he just wants to be worth Simon.

—-

Another brainworm I’m so sorry. I’m just going through all my notes at this rate, clearing out the trash and drabbling on about the ones I like.

Another near and dear one because men face self-image insecurities as well, especially in traditionally hyper masculine settings like the military. I’ve known people on both sides, guys who are thick and guys who are absolutely shredded, and they all have body insecurities for different reasons.

So, another drabble.

This came off a bit more angsty than I anticipated. I have a short multi-chaptered fic vaguely planned with a deeper dive into both Soap and Ghost’s body image insecurities and some good good communication and reaffirming, comforting, body loving intimacy, but until I have the time I figured I’d offer up this brainworm drabble instead.

When I get closer to finishing Bake Room in your Heart for Me, I’ll maybe put out a poll so people can vote on which brainworm I work on next.

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hulktf · 1 year

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The new football coach was shaking things up. Young, strong, and ambitious, Coach Anderson was determined to stack the team with the best players and grow its numbers. At just 27, Coach Anderson was the youngest college football coach in the country, and he was sure to be a domineering force in the years to come.

That's why it was surprising when Coach reached out to Kevin. With his 5'7" stature, scrawny build, and nerdy demeanor, Kevin was far from the ideal candidate. He was the kind of guy to game on his computer, not the field. He liked writing code, not running on the gridiron. The guy wasn't bad looking by any means, but he was definitely more of a nervous dork than an athlete.

After Coach was able to have a 'talk' with him in his office, Kevin emerged a whole foot taller than before, muscle bulging through his skin, with the anger and aggression of a Hulk. He'd hulked out in their first conversation, and Kevin was now the team's next star player.

#hulkout #male muscle growth #muscle #hulk tf #nerd to jock #jock tf #hulk out #jockification

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year

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Apparently words can hurt me

AN: I’m back again, filling multiple challenge squares in one fic, and indulging my love of pre-serum Stucky. This fic is for the following fills;

Into the Juniverse - Squares C1,3 and 4 - Modern, Bookstore, Medical - @buckybarnesevents

The Slumber party, May challenge - “Who did this to you?” @the-slumberparty

BBB Y1 - Sticks and stones @buckybarnesbingo

Beta’d by @sparkagrace

Mood board by me, dividers by @firefly-graphics

Master list

Relationship: ER Doctor Steve Rogers x Bookstore Owner Bucky Barnes

Word count: 2.8k

CW: Fluff, minor angst, suggested Smut, implied bottom Bucky, pre-serum Stucky, alcohol consumption, fast burn, strangers to lovers to friends, meet cute/meet ugly, Special guest star Alpine, Nat and Sam are a good bros (even if they give their friends shit), alternating pov, Human disaster Bucky Barnes, implied age gap (Bucky late 20’s, Steve, mid 30’s)

“So, Steve - how’s your first day going?”

Steve turned, hanging his stethoscope around his neck, and smiled up at his friend and colleague, Sam. He clasped hands with the man he’d known since medical school and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Not that he really could have stopped it - Sam was over half a foot taller than him, and was obviously a big fan of both arms day and legs day. The man’s muscles had muscles, and Steve, well, didn’t really. He’d tried building muscle in the past but his metabolism was so ridiculously fast that he’d almost bankrupted himself trying to up his protein intake.

“It’s going great, man. It’s good to be back on the East Coast, even if it does seem to be a lot wetter.”

“I think trading sunshine for working with a friend is still a definite upside.” Sam’s sunny mood never failed to make Steve smile. “You were wasted in L.A.”

Steve nodded, thinking back to the circumstances that had led to him packing up and moving to the other side of the country after he’d qualified, and then the circumstances that had led to him returning and taking up residence at King's County. It had been a while since he’d worked in an ER, but it was like falling off a bike. Or rather patching up someone who’d fallen off a bike.

“Well, I’d best get back to it - I’ve got a suspected fracture of the tibia in bay three.”

“Drinks - tonight - seven - Gallis. Don’t be late, Rogers.” Steve chuckled as Sam shot him finger guns, before heading back down the corridor to Obstetrics.

He’d missed Sam. He’d missed New York. Most of all, he’d missed himself - missed what he’d hidden of himself while he’d been away. He was back now, though and ready to get on with the rest of his life. He strode towards Bay Three and picked up the chart attached to the bed. He sat down next to the forlorn looking teenager who was probably the same height as him.

“Now, Mr Parker. How did you manage this?

“Nat! Naaaaaat!” Bucky called out to his best friend-slash-co-owner, desperately trying to keep the large stack of books balanced in his arms. Something bumped his ankles and he peered down. “No. Not you, Alpine. You don’t have opposable thumbs.” The white ball of fluff just continued to purr and rub against her human’s legs. Bucky tried to nudge his baby away, but the change in balance caused the top book to slide, bumping against Bucky’s cheekbone.

“Nat! Help!”

“What’s up, Buckminsterfullerene?”

Nat appeared as if by magic, riding the roll-along ladder like Belle from Beauty and the Beast. If Bucky could have pinched the bridge of his nose he would have. Instead he just settled for a sigh.

“You know completely what’s up, and you’re just waiting for the right moment to say ‘I told you so’. I’ve overestimated how many books I can put away at once, again. Now will you please help me?”

She jumped down, her red hair swinging around her shoulders.

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll take you for drinks at Gallis once we’ve closed up? We can people-watch, maybe find a couple of guys to flirt with and buy us more drinks?”

Nat stepped forward and took a handful of books off the top of the stack, holding them in one arm and started to put them away. She pursed her lips as if she was trying to decide, but Bucky knew she wouldn’t be able to resist that offer - it was their favourite Friday evening activity, which said a lot about their respective love lives.

“You’re on, Barnes, but tell me you got something cute upstairs in your wardrobe that I can borrow.”

“Nat, you know full well that half your wardrobe is upstairs, pushing mine out. You’re here that often.”

“Hey! I resemble that remark. And anyway, it gives you more options.”

Bucky huffed, and blew a lock out of his brown hair out of his eyes, before realising that the stack of books left in his arms was now actually manageable and could be put away.

“I might be slim, but I’m not that slim.”

“Betcha $10 that I can make an outfit out of my stuff for you to wear this evening.”

Nat smiled at him, eyes twinkling and he grinned back.

“You’re on, Romanoff!”

“So you’re telling me that your patient really thought he could scale down from a second storey window?” Sam’s expression was a mixture of amusement and disbelief. Steve grabbed an olive from the bowl in front of them, threw it up and caught it in his mouth.

“Yup. Kid thought that if he covered his hands and feet in some kind of sticky resin he could go up and down the wall like a spider. No lie. Not even drunk. Just a clever kid with too much time on his hands and not enough common sense.”

Sam laughed, and wiped a tear of mirth from his eye.

“God, man. I’m glad I’ve left general medicine behind.”

“Yeah, now you just have to deal with a load of…”

“Don’t say it! Don’t you dare say it. That joke gets old, real fast. So, other than an idiotic teenager, you enjoying being back? Ready to put yourself out there?”

Steve took a swig from his beer, more to give him a second’s space than the need to actually slake his thirst. Sam looked at him expectantly, and Steve knew he wasn’t going to get out of answering.

“Yes to the first and maybe to the second.”

Sam raised his eyebrow.

“Maybe? Come-on, dude. It’s been like, what, four… five months since you broke up. I’m not saying go out and propose to the first person you meet, but there’s no harm in a little flirting, a little dancing. And I can tell you, there’s a young man over there who hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you.”

Steve knew who he meant - it had been difficult not to notice the certified twink propped up against the bar drinking cocktails with his red-headed friend. The young man looked like he’d been poured into those black skin-tight jeans, and the rather feminine, purple button-up, left open over an equally feminine black crop top, accentuated his pale skin and red, pouty lips. Steve would be a liar if he said he wasn’t interested - part of him definitely was, but the more cautious part of him, the part that was still nursing his battered and bruised heart, wasn’t sure.

“Go on, Steve. Buy him a drink. Or at least offer.”

Sam was nothing if not persistent. Steve downed the rest of his bottle, trying for a bit of dutch courage. Apparently, he wasn’t getting out of this either.

“This hasn’t got anything to do with the fact that you want to speak to his friend, does it?”

Sam smiled around his bottle neck before placing it, now empty, back on the table.

“I plead the fifth on that.” Steve smiled back, but rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Come on, before I chicken out. But one drink. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh? I bet you’ll want to stay for more.”

Damn-it!

Steve hated it when Sam was right. He’d almost forgotten how insufferably smug his friend could get, but he had no doubt he would be reminded in the morning. Or rather later in the morning, because it was 4.30am and Steve was quietly trying to find his pants.

He’d never been a one-night stand kinda guy before, and truly, he hadn’t intended to go home with this man - Bucky - but with each swig of beer, each whispered flirtation, each dance, it had seemed like a better and better idea. They’d gone back to Bucky’s - a small apartment above a bookstore - and, well, things had escalated quickly.

Now, Steve wasn’t going to say he regretted it, because whoo-ee, was Bucky something - very hot, very talented - but now, as the alcohol and post-orgasmic haze was wearing off, he was feeling… awkward?

Bucky was lying on his front on his bed, head turned to the side and lightly snoring. A shaft of light from the street outside shone through the somewhat ratty curtains, highlighting Bucky’s glorious cheekbones and kissable lips. Steve felt a pull inside him, a pull to just get back into the warm bed, wrap his arms around Bucky and go back to sleep but he shouldn’t. He couldn’t. It was too soon got anything like that.

Locating his slacks, he tugged them on. Groping around further he found his shirt, one sock and both shoes. Gathering them to himself, Steve crept towards the bedroom door, opened it a slither, and snuck out.

As he took a step forward something soft and warm brushed against his foot. Somehow he managed to stifle his scream.

“Mmmerp?”

A pair of large eyes looked up at him in the darkness. Juggling his armful of clothes, Steve pulled out his phone, and turned on the torch.

“Oh, thank fuck. You’re just a cat.”

The animal tilted its white fuzzy face.

“Mmmerp?”

Steve shuffled over to the sofa, resting his phone on the coffee table as he stuffed his arms into his shirt.

“Sorry, little one. I have no idea where your owner keeps your kibble. You’ll have to manage.”

He pulled on his lone sock and slipped on his shoes, making a face at how his bare foot stuck to the leather inner. Laces tightened, he picked up his phone and quietly made his way over to the front door.

“Do me a favour, kitty? Give Bucky a kiss for me, yeah?”

“Mmmerp!”

Carefully shutting the door behind him, and trying not to think too hard about the heaviness in his heart, Steve pulled up his ride share app, and booked himself a cab home.

“So, he just bailed on you?”

Bucky stared down at the account book open in front of him, hoping that the numbers would just start to make sense on their own. And hoping that Nat would just drop it.

“Uh-huh. Gone when I woke up. Left a sock behind though.”

“A veritable Cinderella, then.”

“Ha-ha, Nat. Very funny. His name was Steve.”

Bucky shut the ledger with a snap, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t even know why I’m so cross. It’s not like I haven’t done the moonlight flit before.”

Nat leant against the counter, checking her pristine make-up in her compact mirror.

“It hurts, cos you were on the receiving end this time. My advice? Let it go. You got a good lay out of it, yes?”

“Yes…” It might have been begrudgingly, but he had to agree - the sex had been spectacular. Maybe that’s why he was so sour? Upset that he didn’t get to get up close and friendly to Steve’s dick again? For a short guy, he’d definitely been packing… Oh, well.

“Well, ride the high of a good fuck and move on.”

“Okay, okay. What about you and his friend?”

Nat turned her head and gave a coy smile.

“Sam? A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Yeah, but you ain’t no lady. Ow! Don’t hit me!”

Bucky laughed as he raised his arms to fend off Nat’s friendly blows.

“Uncle! Uncle! I give in, I’m sorry.”

“Hhmmff. I suggest you get on with some work. Maybe you should do the book sorting and I’ll do the accounts?”

“Sounds like a plan. And Nat?”

“What?”

“Love you!”

“Love you, too.”

Why had he drunk so much last night?

The lights in the ER were far too bright, and he was now 10 hours into an 8 hour shift. And why on earth did people insist on inserting things that shouldn’t be inserted into places that shouldn’t have things inserted?

“Dr Rogers? Are you able to check over the patient in Bay 5?”

“Hmmm?” Steve turned to see the face of Wanda, the triage nurse looking at him expectantly. He bit back a moan as he wiped his hand over his face. “I mean, sure. What’s the story?”

“He says he had an accident at work, but something heavy has impacted his face. His left orbit is bruised and there’s a large edema, which is interfering with his vision.”

Wanda was chewing her lip and Steve could tell she wasn’t sure if the guy’s story was true.

“Okay - I’ll take a look. You’ve got his chart?”

“Right here. And thank you, Steve.”

“No problem.”

Steve pushed up from the desk where he’d managed to find all of two minutes' peace and skimmed through the chart for his new patient as he made his way over to the bay.

“Okay… James, is it?” As he pulled open the curtain and looked up, he froze. “Bucky?”

“Steve?”

Wanda hadn’t been kidding - Bucky was pretty banged up, but he was still as beautiful as Steve remembered.

The clipboard clattered to the floor and suddenly Steve found himself right in front of Bucky, gently cradling his bruised face in his hands.

“Who did this to you?”

For a heartbeat, Bucky just stared at him and then…

“What? What do you mean?”

“Was it a jealous boyfriend? If so, I’m so sorry. But also, give me his name. I’ll make sure he never sees the light of day again.”

Bucky’s eyes - well, one of them - went wide with understanding before he hissed and winced. Steve picked up the ice pack that had been discarded on the side table and pressed it to the purpling side of Bucky’s face.

“Steve, slow down. It wasn’t somebody else. There’s no boyfriend. No any-one. I had an accident, that’s all.”

“But what? How?”

Bucky chuckled, then winced again.

“Nat’s not going to let me live it down. I do it all the time, and finally, it backfired. I was putting the books away, you know, in my shop.”

No, Steve didn’t know. Hadn’t realised that the shop below the apartment had been Bucky’s shop. To be fair, he was a little distracted at the time. However, he nodded anyway, aware that he was probably gaping like a fish.

“Well, I have a tendency to overestimate how many books I can carry at once, and then I overbalanced, and crrsshhh,” he gestured wildly. “A dozen hardbacks were bouncing off my face. And I thought I was safe with words. Isn’t it supposed to be sticks and stones that break my bones?”

Another heartbeat of silence and then…

“Oh my God, Bucky. You didn’t just say that?” Steve slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the chuckle that threatened to burst out. “Come on. Let me have a look. We might have to send you to X-ray though.”

Bucky couldn’t believe it. Steve - Sexy Steve from last night - was a doctor. He was certain it was only the pain in his face that stopped his dick from standing straight to attention when Steve had walked in, all professional in his white coat with a stethoscope around his neck.

He also couldn’t believe he’d made that cheesy joke, and that Steve had been all worried about him.

While Steve did his thing, gently probing and taking notes, and asking him about his pain levels, Bucky ruminated on Steve’s reaction.

“Steve…”

“Mmmhhmmm?” Steve was still looking down at the papers, pen in between his lips, and God, if he hadn’t looked sexier.

“Were you really worried that someone had assaulted me?”

“What? Umm… well…yes. I was worried it was my fault too. Look, Bucky, it was really shitty of me to leave like I did this morning. I’m not... I mean I don’t…” His cheeks turned pink with embarrassment and Bucky took pity on him, leaning over and pressing his finger to Steve’s lips.

“Hey. It’s okay. I don’t think either of us was communicating properly last night - well, communicating in a non sex-specific manner - I think we got that down, don’tcha think?”

Steve gulped.

“Umm, well…”

“Let’s start again, okay? I’m James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky to my friends. I own and run a bookstore with my best friend Natasha, and I’m rubbish at relationships.”

He stuck out his hand towards Steve, who looked at it, before reaching out with his own.

“I’m Steve Rogers, ER doctor, here at King’s County. I’ve just returned from several years in LA, and having my heart broken in the process. I’m looking to take things slow.”

“I can do slow. Say, when we both get out of here, if anywhere’s still open, would you like to go and get a coffee?”

“I think I’d like that a lot, Bucky.”

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#stucky fic #stucky au #pre-serum stucky #steve x bucky #late writes #connect4au #navy and roo’s sleepover #buckybarnesbingo2023

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