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lefteagleblizzard · 2 days

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𝕬 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖆𝖑𝖆

Derek danforth x gn reader

Summary: while having some fun inside of his office, you and Derek gets momentarily interrupted by an employee to inform Derek about an invitation he received to a special event and he wants you to come with him. At a major commercial event, while Derek is busy networking, you encounter a former high school acquaintance who once exploited your kindness to gain popularity. Now a powerful figure in his industry, he evokes painful memories. Your discomfort grows until Derek intervenes.

Warnings: no pronouns used towards the reader. Smut, small angst moment and fluff. Oral sex (Reader receiving), public sex, make out session. Unprofessional relationship. Friends with benefits to lovers. Boss x secretary relationship. A continuation of the other stories I made for Derek but can also be read as a stand-alone.

Can also be found on ao3 and wattpad

Words count: 3100+

It was a typical Wednesday afternoon, and you were in Derek's lavish, well- appointed office. The office was a reflection of Derek's personality: imposing and extravagant. You were busy compiling files and documents for Derek, efficiently sorting through the plethora of paperwork that seemed to multiply by the minute.

Derek was feared and respected in equal measure within the industry. His favoritism towards you was no secret, and while it occasionally ruffled feathers among the staff, no one dared to challenge it outright.

You were lost in your work when the door to Derek's office swung open. Startled, you looked up to see Mr. Westwyld. He was a tall man with a perpetual look of mild confusion, as if he was always trying to solve a complex problem in his head.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Westwyld" you greeted him with a professional smile, attempting to mask your surprise and maintain an air of composure.

"Good afternoon," he replied, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for Derek. "I was hoping to speak with Derek about a large commercial event he's been invited to. It's quite important, and I need to brief him on the details."

His graying hair was impeccably combed, and his suit bore the faint creases of a long commute.

"Where's he?"

Underneath the desk, hidden from view, Derek was there, his presence a secret only you were privy to. You felt a slight tickle on your leg and had to stifle a giggle. Derek was evidently annoyed by the interruption but seemed to find amusement in the situation, his fingers danced along your calf.

You could feel his fingers trickling up your bare legs, feeling them encroaching further.

He's not going to wait.

"He's not here at the moment," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "But I can take a message for him"

You words almost caught in your throat as Derek's fingers danced higher, his touch more insistent.

Mr. Westwyld looked slightly perturbed but nodded in acceptance. "Alright then. Please tell him that the annual Global Business Summit has extended an invitation to him. It's a significant event, with numerous high-profile attendees. For next week. A gathering of industry bigwigs"

Now, you were frustrated, and Derek could sense it in the knots of your flesh as he caressed your legs, breathing sweet love into you as he began to use his mouth and tongue.

You leaned back in the leather chair from the rush of pleasure. "Ah, t-the annual networking circus," you mused, drops of sweats starting to form on your forehead. "I'm sure Derek will be thrilled."

Mr. Westwyld raised an eyebrow. " Thrilled might be an overstatement. But it's essential for our company's image."

You nestled into the chair and instinctively spread your legs a little wider. You could feel Derek's lips curl into a smile. This was a brand of heaven; one you were enjoying. The waves and waves of pulsing pleasure wrapping around your lower half and making your body hum delightfully.

He brushed his lips against your bare leg down to your knee before proceeding to prep your thighs with light kisses over the still healing marks left by him from nights before.

The clothes and garments that keep your private parts hidden had been missing for more than an hour now, thank god hidden under the desk with him.

It was a little game that you and he made from time to time: you do the boring part of his work while he rewards you for your dedication.

God, this old man in front of you was still talking.

In truth, you barely listened. Your hands disappeared under the table and while your subconscious told you to pay attention, your fingers ran through Derek's mullet, all while he pleasured you in relative silence.

"-it would be a great opportunity for networking and potential partnerships. The details are in this folder." He handed you a thick manila folder.

Your fingers brushing against Mr. Westwyld's while you took the files. "Thank you" the spike of incredible pleasure catching your breath.

You struggled to keep your expression neutral, your body betraying you under Derek's relentless teasing.

Mr Westwyld's eyes lingered for a moment longer, his eyes studying you. "Are you alright? You seem... a bit distracted."

He ran his tongue and expertly flicked the bundle of nerves causing you to dig your other hand into his mullet. Derek began to lick and suck, feeling encouraged by your thighs tightening around his head and begging.

You forced a smile, fighting the urge to squirm as Derek's tongue kept torturing you in the most wonderful ways. A sharp and rather violent ecstasy. "Just a lot on my mind this morning, that's all. But thank you for your concern."

A muffled sound caught his attention, a soft giggle emanating from beneath the desk. His eyebrows shot up, and he glanced back at you.

"What was that?" he asked, suspicion etching his features.

You took the folder and placed it on the desk, your mind racing.

"I'll make sure he gets it" you assured Mr. Westwyld, avoiding the question he made while trying to maintain your professionalism despite the distracting sensations under the desk.

Derek's hand shot out from beneath the desk, fingers wiggling like a spider. He grabbed your ankle, and you stifled a yelp. Derek's touch was electric, and you struggled to maintain your composure.

Another sharp and semi-stifled moan escaped through your tight lips as you shuffled in the chair again, sliding back into its curve as Derek encroached further, holding your thighs deep into the curve of your rear and squeezing lovingly.

His face was again between your thighs, his facial air tickling you while his mouth did all the work.

Mr. Westwyld seemed satisfied with your response, although he lingered for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on you. "Thank you," he said finally, turning to leave.

You nodded, focusing on maintaining your composure as Derek's mouth and fingers continued their playful but torturous exploration.

As the door closed behind him, you let out a sigh of relief, you felt your eyes beginning to roll a little as you craned your neck, arched your back and let your body shudder in intense harmony. Your hips jolted as you felt the orgasm spread through your body.

You leaned forward, your face flushed with a mixture of annoyance and amusement while you were panting loudly, muffling the sounds you made with your hands.

"Derek, you're unbearable" you hissed, trying to maintain a semblance of composure.

Derek's hands stilled for a moment, then he emerged from under the desk with a mischievous grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"You handled that well," he said, his voice a low, teasing drawl. "But you know, I love seeing you squirm."

You glared at him, though your annoyance was tempered by the undeniable attraction you felt. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a straight face when you're doing that?"

Derek laughed, a sound that was both infuriating and intoxicating. "That's the point, love. I like keeping you on your toes."

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you love me for it," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection.

You sighed, leaning back in the chair as Derek stood and stretched.

He reached out, pulling you up from his chair and into his arms. Derek leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, a silent affirmation of your bond.

"Here, have fun reading all of this" you laughed while holding up the stack of papers that was now delivered.

Derek waved them away dismissively. "We'll get to that. But first, I want to ask you something important."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What is it?"

"I want you to come with me to the summit" he said, his tone casual but his eyes serious.

You blinked, taken aback. "Me? Derek, don't you think it would be better to bring some of the coworkers to give speeches? Or to inform others about the company's progress?"

Derek shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I don't care about that. I want you to come with me. I need good company. These events always ends up being insufferably boring, and I want someone I can escape with when it gets too dull. You're coming with me"

"Alright, if you're sure."

Derek grinned, standing up and pulling you into his arms, lifting you momentarily to drop you on his desk. "Good, now you have to promise me you'll make sure I don't die of boredom."

You laughed, shaking your head at his

antics. "Deal."

ꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄꨄ

You step out of the sleek limousine, adjusting your clothes. Tonight, you are dressed in an outfit that exudes elegance and confidence. Your attire is a stunning ensemble that strikes a perfect balance between professional and glamorous. Your shoes, polished to a mirror-like shine, carry you with confidence across the marble floor.

Derek steps out behind you, his hand resting possessively on your lower back as he led you through the throng of attendees at the grand commercial event.

The air buzzes with the hum of conversation, the clinking of champagne glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter.

Derek leans in close to you. "You look absolutely stunning tonight," he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate growl. Before you can respond, he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, his hand tightening possessively around your waist, drawing curious glances from the nearby attendees. The kiss is filled with the intensity of your relationship, a public display of your deep connection.

The intensity of his kiss catches you off guard and you pull back slightly, your cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and desire.

"Derek, we should wait until after the event" you whisper, glancing around nervously. He grins, a devil-may-care smile that speaks volumes about his disregard for public opinion. But he respects your wish, for now, and loosens his grip.

"Alright, but just know that I'll be counting down the minutes until I can have you all to myself," he teases, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

He makes use of his vape, winking to you before he saunters off, mingling with potential business partners and industry bigwigs. You watch him go, your heart swelling with a complex mix of affection and admiration. Despite his arrogance and the sometimes abrasive exterior, Derek has a way of making you feel cherished and protected.

With Derek occupied, you decide to explore the venue. The place is magnificent, every corner exuding luxury and sophistication. As you wander through the elegantly decorated halls, you find yourself marveling at the intricate details of the decor, the sumptuous fabrics, and the breathtaking floral arrangements. Lost in the beauty of your surroundings, you barely notice the familiar face that approaches you until it's too late.

And then you hear your name, a voice from the past. Turning, you find yourself face-to-face with someone you once knew. High school memories flood back: the late-night study sessions, the shared laughter, the trust you placed in this person. But time has changed him. He's no longer the awkward teenager you remember; he's become a powerful figure in his industry, a man who commands attention.

He smiles, and it's a practiced smile—the kind that conceals motives. "Long time no see," he says, dripping with faux sweetness.. "I've been following your career. Impressive."

You swallow, the memories of his betrayal resurfacing. How he'd used your kindness to climb the social ladder, leaving you bruised and wary. "Thank you," you reply, your voice steady. "Likewise."

He's dressed impeccably, his attire reflecting his status as an important figure in his industry. "It's been so long. How have you been?"

His face is older, more refined, but unmistakably the same. He is now an influential figure in his industry; and his confident demeanor only adds to your discomfort.

You force a smile, the old wounds aching anew, "I've been well" you reply, though your voice betrays a hint of discomfort.

He seems oblivious to your uncase, or perhaps he simply doesn't care. He launches into a monologue about his achievements, his rise to power, and the many people he's met along the way. You listen politely but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in memories of the past where his manipulations left you feeling used and discarded.

As he continues to talk, you feel a growing sense of discomfort. The bustling sounds of the event fade into the background as your thoughts swirl. You glance around, hoping to see Derek, to find some escape from this encounter. The room feels smaller, the air heavier.

Before you can respond, a familiar figure appears beside you. Derek, having noticed your absence, has come looking for you. His eyes narrow as he takes in the scene, instantly sensing the tension.

His eyes locked onto the man with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Derek" you begin, relief flooding through you, but he's already next to you. His presence is a powerful deterrent, and the smug expression of the man in front of you falters as Derek steps forward, his arm protectively encircling your waist.

"Who's this?" Derek says coldly, his tone sharp. He doesn't wait for an answer, his gaze shifting to the man, who suddenly seems less confident.

"Derek, this is..." you start, but Derek cuts you off.

He steps between you and the man, his posture aggressive. "I saw you making my partner uncomfortable."

The man's smile falters, his eyes darting nervously. "I was just catching up with an old friend," he stammers, his earlier confidence evaporating.

Derek's eyes narrow. "It didn't look like a friendly conversation to me."

You feel a surge of emotions, partly grateful for Derek's protection but also anxious about the escalating tension. The man tries to protest, but Derek's voice cuts through like a knife.

"Let me make this clear" Derek says, his voice low and dangerous. "You stay away from my partner. You don't even know what I could do to you with a simple phone call"

The man's face pales, and he stumbles over his words. "I didn't mean any harm. I swear. I was just-"

"Just leaving" Derek finishes for him. "Now"

The man nods quickly muttering a hasty apology before turning and walking away, his shoulders hunched in defeat.

Derek turns his attention to you.

"Let's go," he says, guiding you away from the encounter. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking back, deeply hoping this will truly be the last time you see him.

Derek leads you to a secluded area, away from the prying eyes of the crowd. Once you're alone, he pulls you into his arms, his lips seeking yours in a fervent kiss. You respond, but he quickly senses that something is amiss. He pulls back, his eyes searching yours.

"What's wrong? Is it really for that guy?" he asks looking at you with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

"You really let that guy get to you, huh?" he begins, his tone dripping with condescension. "Listen, you shouldn't waste your time or energy caring about what others think."

You shift uncomfortably, not sure how to respond. Derek's words, though harsh, have a strange allure. There's a part of you that wants to believe him, to embrace his indifference to others' opinions.

"You see." Derek continues, his voice softening just a fraction, "you're with me now. That makes you more powerful than you've ever been. People are irrelevant now. They don't matter."

He leans closer, his eyes narrowing. "By being by my side, you're now in a whole new level. You have the power to do whatever you want"

You feel a strange sense of reassurance, a flicker of newfound confidence.

"So, next time you see that loser," Derek concludes, standing up and straightening his light green suit. "remember who you are now"

Derek's words hang in the air, heavy with his characteristic arrogance. Yet, there's an undeniable truth in what he says. "And remember who you're with" he concluded his last sentence with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

A bubble of laughter escaped from your lips , feeling a surge of gratitude and love for the man who stands by your side. As he holds you, you can feel the weight of the past lifting, replaced by a renewed sense of determination and self-worth.

"And who knows," Derek adds with a mischievous glint in his eye, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he started to walk with you tight against him "maybe we can come up with a plan to sabotage his industry. Just for fun."

"I'd like that," you reply, your spirits lifting as you laughed with him. Together, you and Derek leave the event, the limousine awaits.

As soon as the door closes behind you both, Derek's demeanor shifts. He nonchalantly instructs the driver to take you to his residence. Then, without wasting a moment, he turns to you, his eyes dark with intensity. He pulls you close and starts to kiss you possessively, his lips demanding and urgent.

Between kisses, he whispers fiercely, "You don't need to think of that man when you have me." His words are a mixture of reassurance and possession. "That man made the wrong enemy," he continues, his breath hot against your skin.

His kisses deepen, each one more passionate and fervent than the last. "You're mine," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. "Only mine."

Each touch, each kiss, erases the dullness of the evening and the discomfort from the man's attention. Derek's presence consumes you, his possessiveness both thrilling and comforting. The limousine glides through the city streets, but inside, it's as if the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. Derek's kisses become more urgent, his whispers more fervent.

Each kiss, each whispered word, fills you with a sense of security and belonging. Derek's possessiveness, rather than feeling oppressive, makes you feel cherished and safe. He holds you close, his kisses never ceasing.

By the time you arrive at his residence, your mind is consumed with Derek, all thoughts of the man at the party and the tedious event completely erased. He helps you out of the car, his arm wrapped securely around you, leading you inside with a sense of purpose.

In the privacy of his home, Derek continues to show you how much he desires you, his actions speaking louder than any words. His kisses and whispered promises create a sense of security and belonging, making you feel cherished and protected.

As you rest in his embrace, you know that you're exactly where you belong.

Note: I really enjoyed writing this and love how it turned out, let me know if you also like had fun reading this <3

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khr-doodling · 2 months

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tfw the person you love with all your being loses the round and is killed in front of your eyes

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #khr fanart #sawada tsunayoshi #my art #still have no clue who would take sua's role in this #like the obvious answer is kyoko. but then that kinda raises the question abt where ryohei fits in all this #hypothetically kyoko could fit the role of hyuna. but so could chrome. so could lal mirch #maybe haru? but she's such a cheery character that the vibes don't particularly match #ofc so is kyoko but she's a lot calmer in comparison so it works better i think #idk man i've already put way more thought into this then i originally intended #mukuro or byakuran in luka's role is also floating around in my brain #i'm leaning more towards the former for that one #solely bc it opens to possibility of hibari in hyuna's role #and that is such a big personality clash that i'm kinda living for it tbh #i should probably make a tag for this au #alien stage au

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stray-crow · 7 months

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since i've been (unintentionally) jumpin around with the order of Shaking Kevin in a Bottle, i decided to do some planning/mapping of the story's chapters with the scenes i wrote and i'm kinda giggly over these WIP chapter titles that just came to me:

#like the story itself i debate ACTUALLY titling it Shaking Kevin in a Bottle #i've got some possibilities like 'i wanna come home to you' and 'The Key To You' ; the former bein smth i'm unwell about and latter Themati #but also... i'm shakin kevin in a bottle adkghjdahga #ah the bottle full of knives btw is what i consider First Drafted Done! or rather like Third Drafted Done #point is i am throwin the Question to the backburner 'should i post this story as i go or wait till i'm done?'#im leaning towards writing several more chapters till i'm confident on these early ones bein in this pattern #and also ask Abram to beta read if he could...#oh right! the bottle full of clouds is outlined and next need to write start of and edit existing written #excitin stuff #also my g key is fuckin up so it's. hard to type akdhdjkad #story: shaking kevin in a bottle

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luveline · 7 months

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gorgeous can we get bombshell reader and Spencer May be the first time he’s snappy with her bc he’s stressed and she’s just so taken aback and May be even tears up? And then just a fluffy ending with Spencer apologizing

thank you for requesting! fem, 2.2k

Spencer Reid is extra kissable when he's frowning. Button up and no suit jacket, sleeves pushed past his elbows and hair on the shorter side, he holds a certain confidence in his hands where they're tucked in his pockets. Sure of himself, and clearly agitated.

You're always on his side; you don't think twice about easing into the conference room to see what's wrong.

"Hey," you say with a slight lilt to your tone. You're always on his side, and always flirting. "What's wrong?"

"Why does something have to be wrong?" he asks.

Not mean. Not light. Somewhere in the solid middle, his gaze loyal to the laptop on the desk he stands behind. You step close enough to smell the subtle scent of his cologne, wondering if he can smell your perfume in turn, and if it's one he likes. You try to touch his hand and he takes the desk into his grip instead, leaning forward, out of reach.

"That's not what I meant to convey," you say, still flirting. You're not stupid, you realise his mood, but you're hoping it's somebody else's fault. "But if you aren't happy to see me then I'd definitely suggest there was something wrong."

"I'm just trying to figure something out."

This close, to your own credit, Spencer usually trips up. He's been getting better as you've grown closer, your 'torturing' —as the team likes to call it— only prompting the occasional blush or stammer. You don't flirt with Spencer to torture him no matter what anyones says and you never have, you flirt with him because he deserves to be complimented. He's andsome, intelligent, and courageous. What others might miss you see in blaring neon lights: he's a catch. You intend on making your intentions known, and if that means playing the long game or the slow burn, that's okay. You like to dance.

You put yourself between him and the laptop screen. He can still see it if he cranes his neck, and he does. "You look a little tired, handsome. Looking at a screen all day will hurt you in the end. Neck aches, shoulder cramps, eye strain. Though I can't help with the latter, the former…" His arm is solid under your hand, your fingertips running along the ridge of a stark vein.

He doesn't quite flinch away, but he moves quickly enough to startle you, lamenting, "Could you give me some space, please?"

That's all well and good, you rush to do as he's asked and step back because the very last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable and his voice is frankly acidic, but everything is moving too quickly, you're not as aware as you should be —you smash your hand backwards into a cold cup of coffee and knock it straight into the lap of Spencer's laptop.

"No," you gasp, grabbing the cup before the entirety of it can empty. Coffee wells between the keys and you go to grab it to– well, to do something.

"Stop it!" Spencer shouts, voice sharp as a knife. "You always do this," —quieter, venomous— "you can't help yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I would answer you if I had the time. I'll be busy rescuing my hard drive before an entire month of work is wasted thanks to your dire need for attention."

He slips around you and stalks out the door, coffee dripping from the corner of his laptop in a sorry trail that shines in the fluorescent lights.

Your first rush of tears are driven by indignation; it was an accident, you didn't mean to do that, why would you ever do that? But the second, more encompassing rush is a hot mixture of shame and guilt. What have you done?

You take a hesitant step toward the door but don't bother following him. I'll make things worse, you think, bringing a hand to your face. Makeup marrs your hand as you wipe your cheeks. You stare down at the stains for a long, long time.

I'll apologise, you think eventually, rubbing at the mascara like soot on your palm. Just as soon as I look okay again.

You don't want Spencer or anyone to see you upset. You wear your makeup and your confidence for yourself, not to hide any insecurity but to embolden yourself, to be yourself. But to get to your desk you'd have to leave the conference room bared as you are, and you'd have to face Spencer, and the second option brings more tears.

This is all so messy, and it's your fault.

I'm such an idiot. I'm exactly what he thinks of me.

You sit in the chair furthest from the door with a pack of tissues from the cubby and rub your hot cheeks dry, streaks of mascara in the shapes of your fingertips like soot left behind. It's sitting that gets you —the shock of tears at being shouted at by someone you care about amplifies into a distress you can't explain. It's stupid, it's stupid. You press your face into your hands and curl in on yourself at the table, ears ringing. I'm so, so stupid.

—

The inside of Spencer's lip is bleeding, metallic on his tongue. He's white hot annoyance all the way to Penelope's office, choked as he tells her he needs her help.

"Spencer?" she said. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He realises what he's done. "Please, Garcia, can you do something? I really need to go."

He doesn't hear her response beyond her surprised but emphatic Sure, spinning on his heel to walk back the way he came. He rubs at his temple, moving between a slow trudge and a speed walk as he assesses the damage of what he's said. What did he say? your dire need for attention.

Your sniffing is something out of his fucking nightmares. Who does he think he is? You're sitting exactly where he left you next to that half empty coffee cup, a tissue scrunched in your trembling hands, visible in the small glass window of the door. You must be thinking of what he's said to have missed the sound of his footsteps, or perhaps he's left you too upset to want to look up.

He sees the moment a sob works through you, watches you hold your breath in a painful effort to keep it down, raising the tissue to your eyes and catching your tears before they fall. You're doing a lacklustre job despite your efforts, the oily shine of mascara iridescent on your cheeks. Or maybe that's tear tracks. It's hard to tell.

Spencer fights with himself. He doesn't know if deserves to come running back or if it would be more fair to send JJ or Derek in to comfort you.

"You made your bed," his mom would say, not without affection. "You have to lie in it."

Spencer squeezes his eyes closed to push away the memory, surveying the damage he's done carefully as he crosses the threshold back into the conference room. Your head lifts at the sound of the door, your stammer visible before you speak, "Spence– Spencer. Is your laptop okay? Did I break it? I'm so sorry."

Gideon would tell Spencer to be nicer. Hotch would say Reid in that stern shade of voice that's half disapproval and half fondness. They'd both tell him to be better, but neither of them have ever had to see you as you look now, tearstained and sorry, eyes wide with worry but shoulders tense. He has his role models, and yet none of them could possibly give him a way to apologise that could ever make up for they way he's made you feel.

Little dramatic, Morgan would say. Start with a hug, loverboy. Can't go wrong with a hug.

He should ask but he doesn't, a second transgression against you. Spencer pushes past chair and the sodden circle of carpet to your chair, pausing in case you're going to tell him to shove it. You lick your lips. "Did I break it?" you ask, as though resigned for a yes

He can't temper that amount of self-hatred on you. It doesn't suit you. He much prefers you the way you like to be, confident in everything, flirty and funny and soft, in both touch and touches. He takes your face into a careful hand, tilting it toward the light and weary of your shallow exhale. "I…" He begins and ends, stroking your tacky cheek with his index finger, as though brushing away an eyelash. If it were real he'd say make a wish, and you would wish for him or some similar sweetness, salacious smile to boot, or earnestness fit to fill a mountain. I wish you'd realise how pretty you are and stop denying me the pleasure of a beautiful boyfriend, you'd croon.

His fingers collect at your jaw and slip behind your ear as he cleans your skin with the side of his thumb. You lean into the touch, slashing his hesitancy in two.

"Sorry," he says, pulling your head toward his neck gently as he leans down to hold you. "I'm sorry. Don't be upset, please. Don't be upset "

"I'm an idiot–"

"No," he says, with the facts to back his denial. "I'm an idiot, I should never have upset you like this–"

"I broke your computer, it's just like you said–"

"I shouldn't have–"

"–I'm so needy I could've ruined all your hard work," you say, wriggling with guilt like you attempt to pull away.

Spencer really doesn't want to let you go now he has you, not until he's sure you'll stay in one piece. "If it's ruined, it's my fault for failing to back it up."

He should tell you that he's sorry for what he said. He knew it wasn't right he moment it escaped him, to speak to you like that, and accuse you of what he did. He basically called you selfish, uncaring. He implied it and worse, and for what? An accident? A mis-step that he practically forced you into?

"I never should've said that to you," he says, breaking his hug to crouch in front front you, searching blindly for your hand as he holds eye contact, looking up. You deign to frown down. "And I walked away. And you're crying," —his voice fries with sympathy— "because of me."

Your hand is limp in his. "I'm sorry," he says.

"It's okay." You sniffle and nod, lips struggling into a smile.

"It's not okay."

"Well, I hit your coffee over, so we're even."

"You accidentally spilled my drink, you didn't deserve to be mocked."

"Spence…" Your eyes half-lidded, you wince down at the cradle of his hand where it holds yours. "Did I break it?"

"I don't know. I got to Garcia's office and I knew I did the wrong thing, so I came back."

You swallow audibly. "I just wanted to make you feel better."

"I know, angel." He stands again as your eyes well with tears to hug you, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry. That was all me, okay? I shouldn't have snapped at you."

What follows is agony. Spencer patting your back through a panicked bubble of tears, wretched in knowing he caused it, and worse is the look you give him as he wipes your messed up make up away in want of a mirror, like you're grateful.

"Does it look really bad?"

"N–no. You look really pretty," he says.

"Are my eyes puffy?"

A little. "No. You look great." He can't apologise anymore– it won't help you feel better now, it'll just assuage his own worry. What you need is a different reassurance. "It's hard not looking at you, sometimes, you look that nice. But you know that already."

"I don't mean to do that. I didn't mean to."

Spencer puts his hand above your heart. "I know you didn't. I really, really shouldn't have said it. I was being cranky and I struck out like a kid."

"...You're not just saying I look nice to get back in the good books, are you?" you ask.

Spencer leans in, nearly nose to nose with you. "Of course not."

You tilt your head as though you might kiss him. He knows you won't and he's delighted anyways. It means you're feeling okay. He's nearly forgiven, or, at the very least, you're not actively upset. "I thought I liked seeing you pissed off, but now I'm not so sure."

"It's not a good look on me," he murmurs. "But it looks great on you, if you want to get angry with me."

"Well now I can't. I know it's what you want."

"Can I give you a hug?" he asks.

You drop all your acts and slide your arms around his neck. He wraps you up slowly, one arm at a time, careful to put all the pressure exactly where you like it.

"That feels nice," you mumble.

He bends into you and rubs your back. "Yeah?"

"Don't," you warn.

He draws a shape into your back with his fingers, slow, tiny things that make you squirm. "Don't what?"

"You're tickling me." You don't sound unhappy about it.

"What?" he asks. "I can't hear you over the sound of me being a huge jackass. Sorry, angel."

Your giggle is honey into his shoulder, sticky and sluggish as his circles turn to stars.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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gutsby · 5 months

Text

Best Served Cold

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Warning: NSFW. Attempted SA. Unprotected p-in-v. I don’t condone cheating (unless it’s on abusers lol). Semi-public sex and getting caught doing it in a tent 🫣 Based on this kickass idea from @dilfsandmartinis (I'm so sorry it took this long for me to post the story) !! 💓

Your man returned to your tent that night like he did most others: slick with sweat and too tired for sex. At least not again, not with you. He would undoubtedly claim to have been checking the perimeter, standing guard like a good leader should, but any blind man in that quarry camp could’ve seen he was just boning Lori.

A lot.

You were really more offended that he thought you stupid enough to abide by his lies than the fact he was fucking someone else. That part wasn’t new—his dick never knew how to stay in one hole longer than a month or two—but in an apocalypse? With his newly-deceased best friend’s widow? That was low, even for Shane.

Which was why you felt no compunction yourself as you slipped quietly from your tent toward the water’s edge that night, pink vibrator clutched tightly in hand.

Useful little thing that it was, a six-setting suction device that worked wonders on your clit, even underwater. You figured since Shane couldn’t be bothered with you or your sexual pleasure so long as the former Mrs. Grimes was occupying his time, you’d make use of this sex toy instead and start really leaning into the “self care” you’d been craving for so long.

The water was warm all the way up to your chest, and the air around you tepid. You moved around, treaded in place, and finally reached comfortable bearings a couple yards from shore. You relished the solitude and silence.

The moment you felt the toy come to life in your hand, you couldn’t help but smile. Exhaling as you brought the tip close to your center.

“Shit.” Even the gentlest setting too harsh on your clit, you nipped your lower lip and bit back a whimper.

You swirled it lightly on your inner thigh, tried painstakingly as ever to acclimate yourself to the buzz of the rubber, but damn were you sensitive. Almost too tender to be touched, too ripe with excitement and aching for the feel of something on you, or in you, or just barely skimming the surface of your skin underwater.

A low moan escaped your lips the second the head drifted back to your clit. Your toes curled into rough, rocky terrain underfoot, and your breaths started to quicken. You made a gentle motion with your hips—a sweet, semi-circular thing you’d been doing over Shane’s lower half as long as you could remember—begging for more friction, needing more of that mechanical hum.

You pressed the button for a higher setting. The peaks of your pleasure soared to new heights.

You were helpless to the trembling of your knees and felt immensely grateful for the water’s aid in keeping you straight. You pressed the rounded tip of the toy even tighter to your core and didn’t heed a thing around you as you sighed several expletives under your breath. A jolt of bliss washed over your body.

Your eyes had just started to close in the first throes of that wild sensation, when a new sound startled you.

“Ya done pissin’ or what?”

You shot a look toward the shore and saw a slightly less-than cheery individual standing at the edge of it, the toes of his boots grazing the incoming waves.

You froze in place. You hardly knew what to say.

“Ain’t safe fer you out here ‘n you know it. Come on.” Daryl beckoned you with one hand and started to turn.

At what point was it appropriate to tell him you were naked?

You thought he could surmise from the fact you were neck-deep in the water and refusing to move that maybe something more was keeping you in. Daryl seemed clueless, however.

“I ain’t got all night, kid,” he snorted, “’f you don’t hurry, Shane an’ the rest of ‘em’ll be out and— ah.”

Ah.

At the last, he stepped on a pile of clothes folded neatly on the shoreline nearby, undergarments and all.

So this wasn’t a midnight swim or a late night piss at all, but a full-blown skinny dip. He should have known you weren’t the bikini type.

Awkwardly, almost begrudgingly, Daryl gathered what clothes of yours he could and chucked them closer to the lake. Then he turned on his heels and stalked up the beach without another word—fuming, it seemed to you. Once averted, though, Daryl’s face betrayed a look of horror. Like a parent who’d just stumbled upon a box of condoms in their daughter’s sock drawer after swearing she was still a virgin.

In the few short weeks since you’d been thrown together in this mess, Daryl had practically taken to you like family. He hated Shane ‘Shit-for-Brains’ Walsh most days, it was true, but the fact that you were you, and times were tough, and nothing seemed to occupy Daryl’s mind quite like the thought of keeping you safe, that he had to keep you close at all times. He just hadn’t imagined your proximity would turn this intimate so suddenly.

“Keep up,” he spoke more sharply than usual. Didn’t even wait for you to dry and dress completely before snagging your hand in his.

You glanced at your taut, hardened nipples poking up through the damp material of your tank top and suddenly wished you’d brought a towel. Or a bra. Your shorts, too, clung to your ass like a second skin and made you feel extra bare before Daryl’s eyes—even if he hadn’t spared a look at you once as you’d traipsed behind him through the woods.

When you tripped, he held you up; when you nearly ate shit over several rocky spots, he carried you over them. His eyes never strayed toward your body, though.

Once you’d made it to the clearing where your group had made camp, Daryl lowered you to the ground and still couldn’t find it within himself to look your way. You shuffled uncomfortably on your feet, now standing inches away from the tent you shared with Shane.

“Thanks for...that,” you said, flatly.

Daryl managed a curt nod.

Before you turned in, you decided to venture a look at Daryl’s chest, and you felt an influx of embarrassment. The taupe-colored cutoff he wore as a shirt was soaked with water. Instinctively, you brushed your fingers over the stain—as if touching it might dry the fabric, or else mask your humiliation at being the cause. You tried not to evince a hint of surprise at how sturdy he felt.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Daryl.”

You hadn’t thought any man was capable of looking more afflicted than Daryl did before, but somehow, incredibly, he appeared even more ill at ease when you touched him. You immediately retracted your hand.

“’S’okay,” he managed. He would’ve given anything not to be where he was, or who he was, at that moment.

Just when another apology leapt to your tongue—feeling even worse that you might’ve crossed a physical boundary you shouldn’t have—a twig snapped close-by.

You and Daryl jumped in your skin. You turned toward the source of the sound.

Shane was tugging his pants into place, pulling the zip up in haphazard fashion as he marched out of the woods.

He’d either been blowing Lori’s back out (again) or off to take a piss in the bushes. By the looks of his dazed and drowsy expression, you guessed it was the latter.

“Got a nice rack, doesn’t she?” Shane observed, careless as ever.

He walked past the two of you and unzipped the tent.

“I was jus—” Daryl started.

“Don’t care,” Shane cut in, “Goodnight.”

You were amazed at the level of nonchalance your fiancé exhibited. On finding you soaked to the bone and touching another man in the middle of the night, the old Shane probably would’ve laid Daryl flat on his ass.

But overprotective, possessive Shane was no more.

Before disappearing into the tent, Shane reached for your elbow. You barely got another glimpse at Daryl as you were ushered inside.

The tent was re-zipped in an instant, and you assumed Daryl would be quick to leave the scene, too.

You turned and saw Shane fumbling to unscrew the lid of his canteen. Taking several big gulps before re-fastening the top, tossing the jug to the side, and letting out a sigh.

“You get a look at the hard-on he had?” Shane chuckled.

You almost choked on your spit.

“What?”

“Pitched a tent in his pants bigger’n this,” he returned, gesturing to the polyester enclosure overhead. Then he got back to his feet, walked over to you, and kept going, in spite of your perplexed expression, “He must really wanna fuck you.”

You blinked up at him, unsure if you were more baffled by Shane’s serene demeanor or the fact that you hadn’t noticed Daryl’s boner. You decided to overlook the erection for the time being.

“And you don’t...care if he did?” Instantly chiding yourself for the twinge of indignation in your tone.

“Nuh-uh,” Shane said. His hands came to rest comfortably on your hips, and he seemed to be hearing your words without really comprehending what you meant. As usual.

If he picked up on the irritation in your voice, he didn’t show it. He just rolled the denim of your shorts between his fingers and pulled you closer.

“This,” he hummed, fingers sinking between your legs, “is not for him.”

And Shane was community dick. Made sense.

You didn’t attempt to conceal your annoyance this time as you rolled your eyes and pushed his hands away.

“Well maybe if Daryl asked nicely…” you trailed off, starting toward the bed.

Shane stopped you before you could. He took a firmer hold of your sides and showed the first real hint of jealousy in his eyes. You were almost glad to see it.

“No,” Shane said, shaking his head. Then, snaking his touch back down your legs—with the fabric of your shorts fisted in his hands this time—he continued amidst your quiet protests.

You were gripping his wrists, trying to keep them from moving any further. But Shane was insistent.

“He wouldn’t get to ask nicely, because I’d blow his fucking brains out before he ever got the—”

“Shane.” You were actively shoving his hands off now. You didn’t mind this envious side coming back to the surface, but you would not, under any circumstance, be Shane’s sloppy seconds the same hour he’d fucked Lori.

“No. You— you smell like—” you cut yourself off before the woman’s name could leave your lips.

“Like what?” Shane snapped. Suddenly intrigued to hear what you had to say.

You tried to wriggle out of his grip, but when you couldn’t, and when he pressed you again, you sputtered some nonsense about his drinking—how he reeked of booze, not Rick’s wife.

“Thought you liked it when I fucked you drunk,” Shane grinned, voice dripping with condescension, “Said it gave me stamina.”

You’d said no such thing. You groaned lightly as Shane managed to pull your panties and shorts, together, to your ankles. When he started to take them off at your feet, he hardly seemed to notice your nails dig in his shoulders, silently begging him to stop.

“Think I should invite Daryl back over? Let him watch me fuck you stupid?” Shane’s mouth was hovering close to your center, hot breaths fanning over your lower half.

In any other situation, you would’ve craved him here: on his knees, ready to suck and lick and dick you down like he always used to do. But things were different now, you had to remind yourself. Apart from the walking dead invading your world, there was no Rick in the picture, no semblance of platonic feelings between his widow and your fiancé—you felt physically sick at the thought of Shane touching you now. You tried to stand the instant he threw you on the bed.

“Shane, I don’t wanna—”

“Fuck? Yeah, I figured,” Shane shrugged as he tried to peel your shirt off your body.

“Then quit,” you hissed. You were starting to fear the fabric might tear if you held on any tighter.

When it seemed evident you weren’t going to give in on the top, Shane let go and turned to his pants instead. Pinning you down with one hand, he unbuckled his belt as you whimpered and pleaded that he stop. The sounds only made the mound in his pants more pronounced.

The two of you had dabbled in CNC before, but this was not that. No safeword, no fallback, no trace of consent between you, and to be frank, you were starting to get scared. The second Shane freed his cock from his boxers, you felt a surge of panic rise to your chest.

“Fuck— STOP!” Without thinking, you jerked your knee.

You hadn’t meant to hit his balls so hard. But you did. And he folded in half, seizing with pain, while you took that as your chance to slide off the bed, slip on your panties—and hightail it the fuck out of there.

Shane’s cries pierced the night air like a blade through rotted flesh. You stumbled, half-blind in the dark, and blazed a reckless path through the tents all around you. Weaving in and out of neighboring spaces, searching desperately for any lone, dim glow of a lantern to tell you someone was awake to hear your pleas if needed. But sadly, no tent was alight but yours, and the entrance to that was presently being torn open once more as Shane staggered out there himself.

“Y/N!” he bellowed.

In your haste, you’d tripped over Glenn’s knapsack. You scraped your knee, scrambled back to your feet, and tried with everything in you not to make a sound as you retreated further from Shane’s voice.

You probably looked feral, weaving in and out of tents with your knee leaking blood and your pupils grown wide with fear. You scampered fast across the rocky campgrounds and made a beeline for the woods.

Until Shane’s footsteps fell heavy mere feet away.

Quickly changing course, you dove for the nearest tent and ripped it open. When you slipped inside, zipped it up, and went crab-walking backward like a panic-stricken animal, you hardly saw much of anything else.

Had your pulse not been pounding in your ears and your gaze not glued to the front of the tent, you likely would’ve gotten a pretty good laugh at the sight behind you.

At the very least, a chuckle or a smile or a slightly sheepish blush would’ve been supplied in a second, seeing someone wide-eyed and holding his cock in a death grip just inches from your rear.

You’d unwittingly scrambled into the tent of a man who’d just been beating his dick off furiously to the thought of you—and there you were, sitting pretty in pure, unadulterated fear for the sight of your fiancé any second now. When you turned your head, your hand flew to your mouth.

“Dar— oh!”

Like before, your heads snapped in the direction of a new sound, quick to sense that it was Shane, and this time, you went crawling over to the archer without a second thought. Hardly noticing his pants were down, you leapt into his lap.

“Y/N—” Shane hissed as he tripped over something outside. You heard a clatter and a bang, the sound of a few curse words sputtered in vain, and a groan. Daryl’s arms snaked around your sides and pulled you closer.

“What’ve ya gone and done this time?” he whispered.

“Told him no,” you murmured back.

You pretended not to feel the singe of Daryl’s gaze boring straight through the side of your head. Then a little lower, to your near-bare lower half and shaking legs. It didn’t take long for him to piece together what had happened.

“Y/N,” Daryl started, far louder than you could bear. You shushed him swiftly, ignoring the flare of anger in his eyes that told you he was currently conjuring up fifty different ways to kill Shane and just aching to act on it.

“Don’t. Please,” you said.

“Did he—”

“No. I...kneed him in the balls before he got the chance.”

“Oh.”

Shane was pacing outside, like he knew you were somewhere close. He called your name every now and then, drew near enough to send you rigid with fear. Then Daryl would hold you tight, stroke your hair, or else just graze his lips on your shoulder to let you know he was there, and eventually, the fright would subside. You nestled yourself into that touch and felt something far kinder than fear for the first time in a long time.

You felt aroused.

Ever more inspired by the sound of Shane stewing, fuming outside within earshot and the nudge of Daryl’s member against your barely-clothed core. Well…you were tempted, to say the least. You just weren’t sure if Daryl would be on board for being your lightning-quick rebound fuck of the night.

You sighed as his hips moved gently against your own.

“You think maybe—” you started.

“Yeah?”

“—you might…tell me what you were doing before I barged in here?”

Even in the dark, you could sense a blush creeping up his neck. You loved to see a man like Daryl flustered.

“Oh, uh, that?” he said in half a chuckle. Glancing down at his groin and going back and forth between two thoughts in his mind, most likely. Tell you the truth or come up with a half-assed lie on the spot.

“Just…jerking off to you.”

He never had been any good at a bluff.

Your face visibly brightened in the dim glow of the tent. You tried not to let your elation get too far ahead of you, though, lest your voice raise above a whisper and draw Shane’s attention.

“Yeah? What about?”

Daryl never thought it possible for a woman’s enthusiasm in a question to turn him on, but yours did. He looked to your lips and swallowed, suddenly at a loss for how to answer.

“I…well…”

“You’re fucking dead to me, Y/N. If you don’t—”

Your fiancé’s voice was as close, and as terrifying, as it had ever been. You eased Daryl onto his back.

“Were you thinking of this?” you teased.

You made that soft semi-circular motion with your hips and watched a brand new face contort with pleasure. The footsteps outside hardly registered in your mind any longer, as your attention was singly focused on Daryl.

He fought a groan in his throat as you grazed your slick heat over his length.

You coated him with your arousal quicker than even you had expected. You knew you were turned on, but never had it been like that, where you were damn near dripping sweet nectar all over a man’s cock. You let a little whine leave your lips.

You couldn’t help it; your cunt rocked back and forth over Daryl’s fat, throbbing cock and made obscene sounds as you did. The archer’s hands found your hips and gently guided you up and down as his own moans struggled to break loose.

You could’ve stayed like that forever, you figured—if you hadn’t been so fucking wet that the head of his cock slipped inside of your heat the second you and Daryl bucked your hips together. An inch was quick to stretch to seven before you could think or blink or do anything else but groan in pleasure, and suddenly, he was bottoming out inside you.

“Fuck!” Daryl hissed.

“Daryl!”

“Daryl?”

Fucking Shane, of all voices you didn’t want to hear in that moment. Fortunately, he’d heard Daryl’s voice alone and not the sound of your moan, calling his name at the same time, for entirely different reasons, it seemed.

Daryl gritted his teeth as you bounced on his cock,

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking for Y/N. You seen her, brother?”

Seen you, felt you, fucked you, yeah—he had.

Daryl closed his eyes and tried not to blow his load on the spot as you squeezed around him.

“No— no, I haven’t. Not since earlier,” he grunted.

“You sure?” Shane pressed, dissatisfied, “I heard her running around this way.”

You braced your knees against the ground and rode the man beneath you even harder, taking every ounce of resentment you felt toward Shane out on Daryl’s cock. Fuck if revenge sex didn’t feel nice when the object of your ire was standing right outside the tent.

You almost wanted to moan, wanted to whimper, but were quick to think better of it the longer you spent moving up and down his length. Seeing shades of lust in his eyes like never before, you just couldn’t bear the thought of having to pry yourself off any time soon.

Daryl sank his fingers into your thighs and sighed, leaving ten perfect crescents in their wake.

“Don’t you fuckin’ stop,” he murmured.

“Could ya— could you come outside and help me look?”

‘Come the fuck on’ seemed to be the silent, shared sentiment between you and Daryl as your bodies writhed fast against each other and your highs came close into view. You braced your hands against his chest and begged him not to answer with your eyes, but you also knew Daryl couldn’t not say something to him, either.

“I…I’m sure she’s fine.” Daryl tried, weakly.

He flipped you over so you were flat on your back, hands careful not to make much noise or cause you discomfort as he did. Cock never leaving your wet, greedy hole, he found it easier than ever to resume the pace you’d made above him—now pounding you quietly into his sleeping pad.

You gripped his back and, simultaneously, bit down on his shoulder to keep from letting out a shriek when he grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you. Tried not to whine when he hit it again. And again. And again.

Shane was growing impatient. Hovered close to the front of the tent so you could see the outline of his shadow.

“You got something better to do, Dixon?” he snapped.

Yeah, fuck your fiancée, Daryl thought with a smirk. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him even deeper.

That light, airy feeling preceding ecstasy was close at hand. You wanted to give in—let the levee break and just relish the sweet sensation quick to follow—but you knew you couldn’t. Knew yourself too well to be a screamer not to hold on a little longer, until Shane had left.

But the way Daryl’s cock was pumping in and out of you at present made it hard, to say the least.

“Just…tired, ‘s’all,” Daryl groaned close to your ear.

“Tired from what?!” Shane jeered, “Wrist been hurtin’ from how hard you’ve been jerkin’ it to Y/N, huh?”

You almost burst out laughing. Daryl quickly cupped your mouth. Fucked you harder to shut you up.

And shut up you did; but not for long, you feared. The faster he pounded you, the more that coil in your stomach came to swell, and soon enough you might—

“Eat shit, Walsh.”

“Just help me out. Please.”

Daryl shook his head and fucked you harder, much to your chagrin. You didn’t want him to stop, but you needed him to, in truth, or that swollen thing inside of you just might get the better of you and burst. You pressed your hands to his chest and tried to whimper something softly, but Daryl just hushed you with his hand to your mouth and kept on at that breakneck pace. Your eyes rolled back, your legs started to shake, and if Daryl hadn’t had to tear his attention away to say something to Shane, he might have seen how close you were to blowing your cover…before it was too late.

With one more stroke inside your wet, sensitive hole, you felt a cord inside you snap and a flurry of wild, unbridled bliss take over, stronger than you’d felt in ages.

A shriek desperate to escape your throat, your teeth raked down Daryl’s flesh with the force of it, and, instinctively, the man yanked his hand away and yelped.

You hated to do it, but the feeling was just too good. Your lips parted to release one of the most lewd and obscene sex screams of your life—with Daryl’s name following over and over as you came.

Daryl’s eyes grew to half the size of his face, it seemed. Stilling inside you, feeling your sweet, hot juices flow down him in waves, he sat there and couldn’t quite decide if he was more turned on or terrified.

When Shane tore through the fabric of the tent and charged inside, he figured it out pretty quickly, though.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon one shot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #smut #shane walsh #shane walsh smut

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awritesthings1 · 6 months

Text

Gone with the Leaves

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife Reader

Summary: Despite your happy marriage to Tommy, you feel an undeniable jealousy towards Lizzie. Perhaps a day in the forest will do you some good.

ao3 link

A/N: I'm starting a tag list, comment if you want to be added :)

“You write like you’re running out of time,” mused Lizzie Stark, former prostitute, now Tommy’s secretary. “They have typewriters for those types of things, y’know?”

You saw the volley of cannonballs that launched and subsequently landed on Tommy’s desk as the words left her mouth. It wasn’t that you expected more of poor old plain Lizzie, but you thought that the time she had spent lying on her back staring past the shoulder of a customer at the ceiling would have taught her to read a room. Nevertheless, she stood there, quite amused with herself, smiling stupidly at your husband.

Tommy, who had been sitting at his desk all afternoon attending to letters, the ledger, and god knows what else, peered up from the paper. “What did you say?”

This time, it was your turn to be amused. He pointed accusingly at Lizzie, who by then had realised her impetuous mistake. Her wide eyes fluttered to you desperately, like a bee that had indulged itself in so much pollen that it became stuck in its own honey. No, that was putting it lightly. She looked to you like a frightened child who knew exactly what kind of trouble they were in.

You made sure you looked the other way.

“It was only a silly joke,” came her spluttering apology.

Tommy squinted, and his mouth curled into a frown. Smoke chased the deep exhale from the cigarette hanging between his lips. Your husband carried this terrifying look to him that many feared. Without the peaky cap to cover his striking blue eyes, you saw his glare cut away the cords in Lizzie’s throat with just one look. How could poor Lizzie defend herself from eyes that had witnessed nightmarish things?

“I’m not clear. Is it funny that I sign my letters by hand, or are you above using ink now that you have graduated from the bed to the desk?”

Lizzie’s mouth wormed into a thin line, yet she still looked to you for help. Of what help she thought you would possibly spare, you weren’t sure. For once, Lizzie used initiative and showed herself out.

Your heels clacked across the wooden threshold of your husband’s office. Now that no one was there to disturb you both, you sat down on Tommy’s lap. By then, he was leaning back on his chair, work abandoned for the time being until he could wash the sour sight of Lizzie Stark from his eyes.

“You know I don’t like her,” you said plainly.

There was no need for fake smiles or lies with Tommy. You knew him, and he knew you.

Tommy exhaled loudly, stubbing out the last of his cigarette on his ashtray and taking a swig of whiskey before his calloused hand found your waist.

He clears his throat. “It’s only business with her.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I like her any less.”

Tommy loved you, not Lizzie Stark, yet you couldn’t stomach the undeniable jealousy that arose with her presence. Perhaps it was a natural inclination women had toward their lovers. Lizzie had never done anything outwardly wrong to you. So, what was it then that turned your plain teeth into hissing fangs?

Everyone knew that Tommy was one of her paying customers before you met him, but so were all of Small Heath. You never felt insecure in your relationship with Tommy; there was no need to feel threatened by a prostitute. Yet that wouldn’t stop the catty feline that emerged from its slumber when Lizzie’s wandering eyes battered at your husband.

No. Lizzie Stark would never know what it felt like to be loved by a man like Tommy. What you held in your hands each night was a transcendental, unconditional type of love—one that surpassed the heart and soul, which drew two beings together in the most unconventional yet fitting way. The way that covers kept you warm at night, Tommy watched over your hearth and kept the fire burning, even if he were on the other side of the country.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the valley between Tommy’s neck and shoulder as you listened for the bah-dum-bah-dum of his heart. They sat together in silence, cherishing each other’s presence, while Tommy rested his cheek on your head. Outside, the world waited, barking at their front door and scratching at the delicately carved wood. Even the rain lashed at the windowpanes, playing together like one elemental orchestra.

The hand not resting on your waist rose to gently stroke up and down your arm. You shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

“I think you have some work to attend to in the bedroom,” you mumbled into his neck.

Your nose searched for the spot where he applied his aftershave.

“Eh?” Came his gruff response.

Your hand wandered down his suit in answer.

The sheets were bundled around Tommy’s naked waist when you sauntered back over to the bed with his case of cigarettes in hand. Gratefully, he took the case from your hand, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into the warmth of his chest. Then he began the usual routine. He fished out a cigarette to offer, but you shook your head no, so he slid it once, then twice, across his bottom lip. On the bedside table, he grabbed the half-empty matchbox to light the cigarette.

Tommy was the resident chain smoker in your house. With an appetite for tobacco and whiskey, you often wondered just how he sustained himself throughout the day. Of course, there were the home-cooked meals at Arrow House waiting for his return, although that didn’t stop you from worrying any less. It was pathetic, really, sitting all alone in his study, twiddling your fingers, and sitting beneath his portrait like you were praying to him. Tommy was no god, no matter how much he tried to convince everyone else. Yet whenever headlights passed the window and lit up the office momentarily, you would stand up and peer out, hoping to spot your husband exiting the car.

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to the present. You loved watching the way the cigarette shifted between his lips when he spoke, even more when his hooded eyes looked over at you. Tommy was a man of few words, simply because he didn’t need language to communicate. His body spoke for him in tongues for all his enemies to understand. And more importantly, in a way your body understood.

Your hand abandoned his tattoo to stroke a thumb across his full bottom lip. Lust swelled there, eager to chase the rest of the night away into a haze of pleasure until the sun rose. As tempting as it was, you sighed at the thought. You would rather spend this time taking in your husband, remembering the fine details across his face and body, from the scar in the hollow of his cheek to the rough texture beneath his shoulder blade where a bullet was once lodged. You wanted to trace the sockets of his eyes the way a blind person would, treasuring each valley, mountain, and cut of skin as if it were to disappear the second you stopped touching him.

“You’re beautiful,” you decided, bathed in candlelight, tangled up between the sheets and Tommy’s arms.

Tommy’s brows furrowed, and the cigarette hung dangerously loose from where his lips curled into a frown. He grunted, clearly dissatisfied with your words. Tommy wasn’t beautiful. He was hard, ambitious, and unmovable force.

Beautiful was a conventional word savored for the finest women. To you? It meant so much more. Crafted in a way that would cause people to stare, sure, but there was also a poetic sense to the word. The type of beauty you would use to describe a well-written novel or heart-wrenching poem. Thomas Shelby stood for something, and that was beautiful.

“Then what are you, eh?”

A lazy smile floated onto your face, so much so that you had to bite your lip to refrain from looking devastatingly pleased at his answer.

A woman, a dreamer, a friend, a reader, an achiever. “A wife.”

He huffed, raising his eyebrows playfully.

Why was it that most women felt like they could only fit the frame of one? With Tommy, you were never limited to the endless possibilities. You treasured being a wife the same way you treasured your other roles. Marriage wasn’t the end all be all. Perhaps that’s another lie men spun—that perfectly capable women stopped existing as soon as a diamond ring slid onto their finger. How sad, you thought, to waste away all that potential when men were still free to pursue stupid ideas like war and dog fights.

Tommy was unbothered by traditional ideas like that. Change powered his ambition; he had no time for parallel lines. You could be his wife, a writer, a singer, or a mother—whatever you wanted—and he wouldn’t think of you any less.

You hummed, chasing that cigarette from his lips and stubbing it out in the ash tray by his bedside table. Tommy didn’t seem too heartbroken about it. In fact, there was some mirth in his gaze. His hands traced up your naked spine, pulling your body further into his until you could smell the smoke in his breath.

“Yes,” he breathed in loudly through his nose, “my wife.”

The following day, you were invited to the Basnett's hunting party. You would’ve been more enthusiastic to write about your excitement to attend if the whole ordeal hadn’t been so troublesome. Because a few days prior, when you were visiting your husband’s office, you had caught sight of the letter on Lizzie’s desk, a letter that was supposed to reach you days earlier.

“What’s this?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Lizzie had said, too occupied with filing her nails while on the clock.

You kept your composure for the sake of keeping the peace. You didn’t wish to disturb Tommy if he were to walk by.

“This is a letter addressed to me,” you pressed.

“Oh.” She stopped for a moment, then leaned over to read the letter you had pulled from the messy pile. “No, it’s addressed to Tommy.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Shelby,” you hissed quietly, with emphasis on the missus.

“Hm, I didn’t notice.”

“You are paid to notice.” You fought the urge to comment that she was paid for other things not long ago. “How long has this been sitting here?”

Lizzie tapped her cigarette ash into the tray. “The post boy dropped that lot off yesterday.”

Even if it was only two days late to reach your hand, by society’s standards, that may have well been taken as you snubbing the invitation. Frustratingly, you had to cancel your plans that day and personally deliver your letter to the Basnett’s door, citing some excuse of it having been lost in the post.

“That woman is up to no good.” You said glumly that night into Tommy’s chest.

“I’ll speak to her,” he promised in that stoic tone of his.

Whether he had been true to his words, you weren’t sure because Lizzie made an effort to avoid you when possible.

“Oh! Mrs. Shelby! How wonderful for you to join us! Come in, come in. The men are readying their rifles for the hunt outside. How exciting!” Gushed Lady Basnett, shooing you into the atrium of her lavish mansion.

Your riding boots clacked across the floor before being muffled by an intricately woven rug. You stared up at the chandelier, childishly wondering if it would hit you if it were to fall at that moment.

“Right this way, Mrs. Shelby!” Lady Basnett ushered excitably.

You debated if all her energy was for show—to please her husband and be the good wife he expected of her. After she showed you through to the veranda and down to the circle of wives who had gathered under the trees while their husbands readied for the hunt, you decided that no, she must truly enjoy planning social occasions like this, as evidenced by the way she kissed Sarah’s cheek in greeting with a wide grin.

It pleased you to know that Lady Basnett found joy in something. Ever since her eldest died in the war, she has been known to be a bit of a recluse.

“Oh, what a beautiful ring! May we see it?” Doe-eyed Catherine asked.

She was one of the younger wives, like yourself. Catherine married an older man, twice her senior. Many of the wives here faulted her for it behind her back, but not you. You saw more of yourself in her than you did in any of the other women. Because, despite the age gap, the girl seemed to be utterly head-over-heels in love with a man society deemed old-fashioned for her. And how could you blame her when you swore an oath to a gangster of all people?

You obliged and let the wives twist and turn your hand to better inspect the diamonds on your ring finger.

“It’s perfect!”

“How many carats?”

“My Mary would be so jealous!”

After dutifully showing your wedding ring, you noticed the men beginning to mount their horses.

Catherine hooked her arm around yours. “Come on, we are going to be left behind!”

She jovially pulled you along the stone tiles at a speed that made you grateful for wearing riding boots. The backyard was grand in the sense that the acres they owned stretched vastly into the nearby forest. Although there were impressive features, like the hedge they had grown into a maze and the trees that were shaped into birds.

“Lady Basnett owned an aviary of budgies. Dear little things they were, she was devastated when they all escaped one night after the groundskeeper forgot to close the door,” Catherine commented, having noticed the way your head was turned.

You laughed, because you could precisely picture Lady Basnett as the type to fawn over little budgies.

Catherine led you to the horses, where some of the wives were already perched, waiting for the party to leave. None of them carried rifles, but rather wicker baskets strapped to the saddle for the picnic they planned to have at the top of the hill while they waited for their husbands to finish hunting.

Together, you set off, having mounted the back of Catherine’s mare. Deeper into the forest you went, the black mare trotting over loose dirt and rocks. Both of you remained at the end of the pack, preferring to keep to yourselves in light conversation.

Then it all happened so suddenly. One of the rifles went off up ahead, and a flock of birds rushed at you from the break in the foliage, startling your mare. You gasped in shock and reached for Catherine’s jacket to hold on, but only skimmed her. She went face first into the dirt while you were swept into the air like a leaf and fell with the grace of a rock. The ground thundered as the mare galloped into the distance.

“Fuck!” Catherine spat.

(On her fall she had taken a mouthful of soil and leaves.)

“They’ll come back,” you tried to reassure her.

Hours later, the two of you still had not been found.

“I was a prostitute before George found me, y’know.”

No, you didn’t know.

“That’s why I’m so young and he so old,” she smiled fondly, laughing as if it were the most normal thing.

You couldn’t find it in your heart to dislike her because of her circumstances. She was your friend, and a true one at that.

What was it that Tommy said? The past is the past.

The sun began to set when one of the men from the hunting party found you both huddled together under a tree. Kindly, he let the two of you ride the rest of the way back despite your hesitance to mount another horse.

When you returned to Lady Basnett’s, with Catherine in arm, the sun had been set for at least two hours. You hadn’t realized what trouble you had gotten yourself into until you noticed Tommy’s Bentley parked in the crowded driveway of the mansion. Men stood at the gate, armed and waiting. Catherine opened her mouth to remark how ridiculous it was, but you kept your lips sealed after recognizing the guards to be Peaky Blinders.

Tommy had to be beside himself.

A young boy who was playing between the cars popped his head out when the gates squealed open. His ears perked up, and he ran inside, clutching his peaky cap, to probably inform the adults inside of your arrival. People pooled out onto the front steps, the women covering their hearts and sighing with relief, and the men holding their hats to their chests. But when your husband, Tommy, came storming out, they parted like the red sea.

He stalked across the gravel like a predator, his eyes trained on you with an unblinking stare.

“Are you hurt?” He ignored Catherine, cupping your face and frantically looking between both your eyes as if you would disappear.

Upon further inspection, his eyes were bloodshot, and the white sleeves of his blouse were bundled into the golden garters. Your hands itched to muse his disheveled hair into place, but with all the curious onlookers, you thought better of it.

“No.”

George, Catherine’s husband, was quick to whisk her away inside. You heard Lady Basnett’s voice trailing after them: “Oh my, what a terrible thing. Come now, let me pour you some tea.”

Unfortunately, tea wouldn’t make up for any lost ground with Tommy.

“We’re going.”

You knew better to open your mouth to disagree. This was Tommy being afraid and carrying on. He retreated into himself. It didn’t look pretty or like he cared, but he cared; you knew he cared. It was only that no one else was allowed to know that the great Thomas Shelby felt any emotion.

At Arrow House, he swallowed two glasses of whiskey before saying a word. You were pulling at the hem of the overcoat that Tommy had shook off his shoulders to give you for the ride home. Your fingers just couldn’t stand the anxious silence that rang throughout the room.

“What the fuck happened?”

He stood in front of you, stoic as a soldier but cracking around the exterior thanks to his hand, which itched for the cigarette case inside his pocket. (A nervous tick of his.) You grab his hand between your own before he can fish out the case.

“The horse got spooked. It bucked Catherine and me off, but we’re fine.”

His thumb rubs across your knuckles as he looks past your shoulder out the window.

“Do you know where I was when I got the call? Eh? I was handling some business when Lizzie came in and told me some posh old woman was on the line, saying you were missing.”

He exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze to you, where you noticed his eyes soften.

“I thought…” He broke off.

His chin dropped, and he went to itch his nose with his other hand.

“What did you think happened? Is there something I should know about?” Concern leaked into your voice.

“No,” he huffed, clearing his throat. “It doesn’t matter. You’re home, and you’re safe.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything that might push him over the edge. He was fragile in a state like this in the sense that he pushed the stronger, more vivid feelings to the side because you were his wife, not a Peaky Blinder. No, you would never be, even though you married one.

Often, you would wish you could turn into the leaves that swept off the pavement and into the air. Imagine then how much easier life would be for you both—to forget the animosity of life and rise above it all, breathe in that crystal air, and then finally exclaim the truth because up there no one could hear them or cared enough to try anyway.

Cautiously, you let go of his hand and traced your fingertips up to knead away the tension in his jaw.

“Thomas… Do you remember what you asked of me? To help you with the whole fucking thing—”

“From now on—”

“Thomas—”

“From now on, let me know where you are going. I will organize a guard to watch over you.”

‘You write like you’re running out of time,’ Lizzie’s poorly placed joke from the start of the week reverberated in your skull.

Was he?

“I need you,” he breathed, the smell of whiskey fanning over your senses.

You nodded, pressing up on your toes to kiss him. A soft breath escaped him when you pulled away.

“You have me.”

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tvseries-writings · 12 days

Text

Elevators are deadly traps

Wandanat x reader

Plot: You and your girlfriends get trapped in the elevator but the heat makes you faint and Wanda is not the biggest fan of small, enclosed spaces.

TW: fainting, panic attack

You never believed that drinking water was so necessary; you were never a big drinker and although Wanda always told you, nay, begged you, to drink at least the necessary amount you never listened to her but maybe you should have today.

You watch the busy streets of New York, listening to Natasha and Wanda talk while your eyes don't leave for a moment the view that lurks outside the window of the expensive car that only the black widow, of the three of you, dares to drive; you've never even been a great driver...Let alone drive a car that costs two hundred thousand dollars in the busiest city in the world.

The 93 F makes the asphalt scorching, much more than usual; it is so hot that the air ripples from the heat, distorting the images that pass before your eyes.

Natasha turns right and the Avengers tower enters your view, towering over all the buildings around it. It is not the most beautiful building in New York, contrary to what Tony likes to think, but it is definitely the one that makes you feel the safest.

“Is everything okay malyshka?” Natasha looks at you from the mirror, raising her sunglasses for a few seconds to get a better look at you.

“Yes Nat.”

You lean forward, ending up between the two seats and leaving a kiss on the cheek first to the former spy and then to the Sokovian who turns around at the exact moment you turn toward her to receive a real kiss.

“Hey, that's not fair. Next time one of you will drive.”

Natasha moans, giving you a weak elbow in the side that makes you and Wanda pull away.

“Oh come on Nat, you'll be rewarded” Wanda smiles mischievously, letting her hand slide down the blonde's thigh.

You sit back down, giving them an amused look but as you do so, dizziness makes you close your eyes for a few seconds. Apparently the heat has affected you more than you thought since you've risen just a couple of inches.

“Detka?”

Wanda turns to you, her head tilted slightly to the side as she is wont to do when the Sokovian is angry or worried.

“Yes?”

You open your eyes, smiling as if the nausea isn't wearing you down and the dizziness isn't making you sway even while sitting up.

“Are you okay?”

The car stops, you have probably entered the tower garage but you are so focused on not letting her notice that you are sick that you are not completely sure.

“Yes, of course, why?”

Wanda looks at you as if the answer is obvious but before she has a chance to retort, the driver's side door is thrown open by a rather pissed off Iron Man.

“Natasha, I've told you a million times not to take this car, it costs a fortune.”

“I know, Stark, but I remind you that I always told you I'd keep taking it since you bought it. Although I must admit, I'd like to find the keys in the car already and not have to bypass your office's fallacious security system to get them.”

Natasha smiles, stepping out of the car and tossing the keys toward the multimillionaire; the man rolls his eyes, stuffing the keys in his pocket before walking away at a brisk pace, muttering something about “having to implement anti-widow security systems.”

“You're terrible Nat, you'll drive him crazy.”

You say with a smirk, opening the door in turn; you just sit there, still not trusting your body to keep you stable.

Wanda comes around the car and quickly joins you.

Although you are inside the garage, the temperature is just below that outside and certainly much higher than it was inside the car.

“Are you sure you're okay y/n? You're a little pale” Natasha places a hand on your right cheek and you lean into her touch, turning a reassuring smile to her.

“I'm fine Nat, let's go home. If I'm not mistaken, someone needs to be compensated for her chauffeuring services.”

Your joke seems to make her relax a little, and that gives you the confidence to finally put one foot on the ground. You get up and despite the dizziness that hits you as soon as you do, you manage to hide it masterfully, heading toward the elevator with your girls. Although it is only a few meters, when you enter inside it feels like you have traveled at least twenty kilometers.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. take us to the forty-seventh floor please.”

“Right away Ms. Romanoff.”

As soon as the elevator doors close, you lean against the handrail placed on the wall behind you praying that your condition will not worsen. You observe Wanda out of the corner of your eye; the Sokovian hates elevators but is well aware that she cannot climb forty-seven flights of stairs therefore, after an animated conversation about why she could not use her powers to do so, you had convinced her to use that “infernal contraption”-as she likes to call it-to reach your floor.

A loud roar diverts your attention away from the girl, and before you can figure out what's going on, the elevator suddenly stops; if it weren't for Natasha's lightning-fast reflexes, your face would surely be splattered on the floor or the metal wall in front of you, considering the gigantic size of the elevator. Big Tower big elevator, as Tony likes to say.

“Are you all right?”

Natasha watches you both, helps you to your feet and then draws Wanda into a hug.

“Honey, it's okay, the elevator will probably start working again in a few seconds.”

Wanda nods and does not even give you a glance; she is totally focused on not panicking completely. She hates elevators and now she is hating you too since you forced her into them.

Ten minutes pass and you are still stuck inside the elevator. The temperature, which was previously kept under control by the air conditioning, has risen considerably and the dizziness is only getting worse so, although you are the only one, you decide to sit down in the hope that this will help.

The former spy's phone that suddenly and, when Natasha answers, Tony's voice rings out in the metal box you are stuck in.

“Hey Nat, there you see, there's a little problem, I may have knocked out the power to like well...all of Manhattan so you're going to be there for a while but I'm working on it okay? All right, see you later.”

Natasha is not in time to insult him that Tony ends the call. Natasha mumbles something in Russian and although you know few words of her native tongue, you are pretty sure they are not compliments she is paying him.

Wanda's hand is clasped between yours and you speak words of comfort to her as sweat beads your foreheads. You and Natasha take turns, trying to keep her breathing under control; the Sokovian has had panic attacks before and the last thing you need is for her to have one right now.

“Because I let you talk me into it,” Wanda whines, squeezing your hand before standing up abruptly, starting to pace back and forth in the elevator as her breathing quickens.

“Wanda, love, it will be okay, I know you hate elevators but-”

Natasha gets up to join her and you do the same but realize the shit you've done too late; in fact, it takes less than ten seconds for your body to fall to the floor with a thud.

“Y/N!”

Both Natasha and Wanda scream in shock.

“Honey, open your eyes malyshka come on.”

Natasha falls to her knees beside you, placing your head on top of her legs and shaking your sweat-soaked hair from your forehead.

“D-detka open your eyes.”

Wanda caresses your cheeks and although she is still in a panic, she makes an effort to keep herself lucid for at least a few more seconds.

You blink a few times, and when you open your eyes, the metal of the ceiling reminds you where you are.

“Hey, take it easy, Wands do you have any water?”

Natasha whispers, continuing to caress your face as Wanda frantically searches through her bag before shaking her head. Her breathing is quickening again and she is far too quiet to be Wanda.

“I'm fine,” you whisper and then give the blonde a look that admits no reply as you wave her over to your girlfriend.

“You're not fine, you just fainted, you're probably dehydrated, and we're going to be stuck here for who knows how much longer.”

Natasha regrets what she said as soon as she hears a whimper coming from the sokovian before the latter falls to the floor, burying her head between her knees as you clearly hear her breathing shorten alarmingly. Natasha quickly removes her shirt and rests it under your head before moving toward Wanda.

“Don't try to get up y/n, just stand there, I got this.”

You watch her walk over to the sorceress and gently touch her arm.

“Wands, hey, it's me. You have to breathe love, I know it's hard but you have to do it.”

Natasha strokes her back and Wanda's breathing seems to calm slightly as she lifts her head to look at you.

“There you are, good girl, now follow my breathing. In and out, in and out. So good.”

As Natasha focuses on Wanda, you quickly assess your condition before sitting up and trudging toward them.

“I told you not to get up.”

“I'm sitting up and feeling better Nat.”

You whisper, holding Wanda tightly in a hug and letting her listen to your heart beat at a steady pace.

“You are so stubborn, you-”

Another roar brings her to a halt and then, to your relief, the elevator starts up again. In two minutes, the elevator arrives on your floor and when the doors open, Natasha gives you a worried look-Wanda is massaging her chest while you are still sitting on the floor with a complexion so pale as to make the dead envious.

“Wands, do you feel up to walking?”

The Sokovian nods but Natasha equally encircles her hips with her arm before ushering her toward your bedroom but not before issuing you a warning.

“Don't try to move, don't even think about it.”

You watch them walk to the end of the hallway and extend your leg to block the elevator door sensor. As soon as you see them disappear from your sight, you close your eyes and lean your head against the wall behind you, trying to counteract the dizziness and nausea.

After a few minutes you hear hurried footsteps and then a glass is pressed to your lips.

“Drink malyshka,” Natasha whispers, tilting the glass and helping you drink the water inside. When you finish it, Natasha sets the glass on the floor before taking your face in her hands; you stay like this for a few minutes before she speaks.

“Can you get up?”

You nod to her, and after a few seconds, the Russian encircles your sides with her arms and lifts you off the floor, checking you during every step you take to your bedroom.

“How about I call Bruce? At least he'll take a look at you...”

You shake your head and in doing so lean even more against Natasha.

“No, I'm fine Nat. I just drank a little water, that's all.”

Natasha sighs yet does not retort, helping you sit down next to Wanda.

Although you are still lightheaded and dizzy, your stomach twists as you see how much Wanda is still shaken by what has happened.

“Hey love, how are you feeling?”

You reach out to her, taking her hand and intertwining your fingers. Wanda turns to you as soon as she hears your voice and hides her head in the crook of your neck; you leave a few kisses in her hair before the Sokovian speaks.

“I'm fine, I'm sorry for-”

“No, hey, you don't have to apologize, you know it's not something we control. Neither Tasha nor I do, did you ever tell us to apologize for that?”

Wanda shakes her head and both you and Natasha nod.

“That's right honey, so never apologize for that okay?”

Natasha sits on Wanda's other side as Wanda pulls away from you and lies down on the bed, motioning for you to get on her side. You are about to do so but a sharp dizziness causes you to desist and swing dangerously to the side; Wanda's grip on your shirt prevents a disastrous fall.

“Hey y/n, hey!...Nat, did you give her sugar?”

Wanda sits up to support you better as she watches Natasha shake her head.

“No, I...I just gave her water, now I'm going to get it.”

You want to protest but you can't, you can't even keep your eyes open.

“Detka, honey drink this. It will help you.”

Natasha hands Wanda the glass with water and sugar and the Sokovian places it on your lips helping you drink every last sip; after a few minutes the sugar finally takes effect.

“Do you feel better?”

Wanda whispers, drawing small circles on your back as you open your eyes. You nod slowly, resting your head on Natasha's shoulder and turning a small smile to the Sokovian.

“I really think we should all get some rest, and we'll call Bruce later.”

Natasha leaves a kiss on your temple, giving you a look that clearly indicates how much you cannot retort at the moment. From the look on Wanda's face, she agrees too so you surrender to your girls, letting them tuck you in before hugging you on both sides.

“Rest, I love you,” Natasha lets you both have a kiss before lying down and closing your eyes. You reciprocate her “I love you” before following suit.

You three may be a mess but you are definitely a good trio.

Thank you for reading! This piece sucks but I wanted to write something and will probably delete it later anyway...thanks and have a great day!

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#marvel #mcufam #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #natasha x reader #wandanat #wanda x reader #wanda x natasha x reader #wandanat x reader #wandanat x you #poliamore

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eclectickss · 27 days

Text

Taste the Tango

Wanda x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SoftTop(switch if you squint)!Reader, age gap (reader is of age), reader's best friend is Wanda's son, Tommy is graduating high school? (a choice that I don't think I've seen before, so let me know if you like?), Wanda is reader's former teacher, slight alcohol use, smut (fingering, oral)... I think that's everything?

Summary: You are in your hometown the summer before your senior year of college hanging out with your best friend. Unexpectedly, you also get some quality with his mom (and your former teacher).

WC: 10,350 words?!?! (a record for me)

╔══《✧》══╗

"Hey Y/N!" Your gaze shot up from the pavement to the open door ahead, smiling as you saw your best friend standing in the frame.

"Hey Tommy!" You jogged up to hug him, seeing as he and his twin brother just returned from a week long beach trip. You normally wouldn't be this excited to see him, but with complicated summer schedules and school across the country, it had been almost 6 months since the two of you had spent time together.

"This is crazy, I missed you so much!" He backs up and you immediately spot the sparkle in his eye that is easily recognized in the rest of his family.

"I know, me too!" You shook his shoulders and hugged him one more time. "So, you said you had something planned for today?" The two of you walked into the house and towards the kitchen. Your eyes secretly darted around the space for a certain someone, but you are slightly disappointed when you don't see the person you're looking for.

You feel guilty for hoping she would be there, since you were there to spend time with her son, but you couldn't silence your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried.

"Well I know it's kind of silly, but I picked up some rocks we could paint?" He scrunched up his face. "I don't know, I just wanted something mindless we could do while we caught up."

"Are you kidding, that sounds great!" You smiled.

"Alright, awesome! I've gotta head out by six so I can meet Ruby for dinner, but we have plenty of time," he said as you followed him back to his room. Ruby was his girlfriend of six months, so it prided you to know that hanging out with you was his priority.

The two of you made it to his room and he encouraged you to sit down as he left to get art supplies. Just before you were able to sit though, a voice reached into the depths of your mind.

"I knew I heard a familiar voice!" You turned around and there she was, as breathtaking as ever. Wanda Maximoff. The way her soft eyes met yours and her red wavy hair sat just above her shoulders made you melt. You prayed the moment would last forever, but the passing seconds were inevitable.

"Hi!" You excitedly walked over to your former teacher to give her a hug, painfully ignoring all other emotions you were feeling.

"How are you, Y/N?" She moved out of the hug, cheeks grazing, making you briefly look away.

"I'm absolutely wonderful, how about you?"

"I'm alright," she spoke as she softly smiled. "Are you excited for your last year of college?" She leaned up against the doorframe.

"I guess so? I love California, but I can hardly wait until I'm done with school already so that I can come home. Are you ready to become an empty nester?"

Billy and Tommy were three years younger than you, so they were just about to begin their college journey as you were ready to bring yours to a close. Tommy was only going to university an hour away and Billy five hours, but you imagined it would still be a lot for both boys to be leaving the house at once.

"Oh hush, dear." Ms. Maximoff playfully shoved your shoulder, a gesture you struggled to not linger on. "I don't wanna hear that talk. Let me soak in my boys being home while I can. And you being here while I can." She smiled with a small glint in her eye, but you knew she was dreading the boys' absence.

"Oh well, two more semesters and you won't be able to get rid of me."

"Perhaps it's selfish to say that we can't wait to have you back either, but I know you'll accomplish wonderful things in your last year there." She placed a hand on your shoulder and instinctively you placed your own on top of hers.

You internally panicked, worried that you were being too affectionate for a teacher/student/best friend's mother relationship, but she just moved to gently caress your cheek and proceeded to walk away.

You could hardly process your thoughts as your brain replayed the previous moment over and over, but this torturous habit is nothing you weren't unfamiliar with.

Every day that went by with Ms. Maximoff in your presence was a day to strenuously remember. You mentally recorded her words, her movements and her reactions. Time slowed with her around as you soaked in every detail about her possible.

Every day that went by without her was filled with daydreaming and guilt. You always wondered how she would react to something, or how she would respond in a private conversation. You tried to picture her thoughts and envision her smile before you. You hated how much you thought about her, yet craved to dream of her.

She was your high school english teacher, your best friend's mother, and your go-to mentor in any sticky situation.

She has already given you so much, and you despised the fact that you wanted more. You knew it was wrong, but she was your addiction.

"Earth to Y/N," A hand waved in front of your face and you quickly realized that Tommy had returned with the rocks and art supplies.

"Oh, hey Tommy!" You rubbed your eyes in shock.

"Where'd you go there?" He laughed and sat down on the floor.

"I uhh... can't remember." You lied, joining him on the floor, not letting him see the guilty emotions written across your face.

---

Hours pass as the two of you work on your rocks and talk.

You tell him all about your travels while he fills you in on everything that happened at the beach and on his trips prior.

You love listening to all his little stories, especially those where his mom is involved. One of your favorite stories was when he talked about her affliction with the terrible kitchen at the beach house. She wouldn't stop complaining about the quality of the stove, which you ended up finding rather funny.

You asked him if she even actually used the stove, and he said no, which made you laugh out loud. Supposedly she apologized at the end of the trip for making such a big deal out of it.

He thought it was stupid, but you found it cute.

Of course that was something that she would do.

"What else crazy did she do on the trip?" You couldn't stop yourself from inquiring about her. Tommy never caught onto your special interest as he laughed it off and launched into the next story.

"So it was movie time, right?" He starts and you nod. "Well mom and I were advocating for She's Funny That Way since we're both madly in love with Kathryn Hahn."

You cackle and quickly agree with their side. "Of course."

"But Billy and Auntie Nat wanted to watch Knives Out!"

"I thought you liked that movie..."

"Ok yes, but Kathryn Hahn or Chris Evans?"

You thought about it for a moment. "Fair Enough." This made you wonder though about Ms. Maximoff's interest in Kathryn Hahn. There's no way she's.... attracted to her, right?

If Ms. Maximoff actually liked women, the hole you've dug for yourself would become infinitely deeper.

"Anyways, so mom, out of nowhere, says, 'You wanna watch Knives Out? Well guess what, Chris Evans is the villain and Ana de Armas gets the estate and money,' and Nat and Billy were furious."

"Oh my gosh!" You laughed with your hand over your mouth in disbelief. "So did you guys end up watching She's Funny That Way?"

"Well mom and I did. Billy and Nat went off to watch something else."

"Wow! That was vile!"

"It really was intense." He laughed and the conversation paused as both of you returned your attention to your rocks. Right before your paintbrush hit the surface though, his phone alarm went off.

"Aw, shoot. That's my timer for Ruby. We gotta clean up."

"That's alright." You gave him a soft smile. "We do have the last two weeks to hang out before I go, and I understand I'm not the only important person in your life."

He looked at you and smiled. "I love you, you know?"

"I love you too, you dork. Now let's clean these brushes and get these rocks outside to dry."

The two of you were cutting it real close to six once everything was cleaned, but before you knew it, you were saying goodbye to Tommy in the driveway just as Ruby had pulled in to pick him up.

"Alright, Y/N, we'll hang out soon!" He hugged you and stepped back.

"Oh you know it."

He followed you to your car, but you quickly realized you had left your keys inside.

"You know, I think I left my keys on your floor, but don't bother waiting for me to drive away. Go have fun with Ruby."

"Alright. My mom will let you in if it's locked." He hugged you one more time and joined his girlfriend in her car. You released a breath of air and headed back to the house, happy to see that the kitchen door was still unlocked.

Ms. Maximoff was standing in the room though when you walked in.

"Oh, hey Y/N/N! Did you forget something?" She looked up from the cutting board and veggies on the counter.

"Yeah. My keys are somewhere in Tommy's room," you said as you headed in that direction.

"Oh, so you're not back because you forgot to say 'goodbye' to me?" She teased.

"You read my mind!" You yelled from down the hall, embarrassed by how quickly you turned red.

Your keys were rather easy to find, but you took a bit longer to collect yourself before exiting Tommy's room.

"So," she said as you re-entered the kitchen. "What are you doing with your last two weeks before heading back to California?"

You were caught off guard with her conversation starter, but you were overjoyed that she wanted to talk. You leaned back onto the counter to face her.

"Well, it's all just trying to hang out with friends, even though most of them are off doing internships or traveling. I'm honestly just hanging around home a bunch," you shrugged.

"What, you didn't want to travel or anything?" She said as she continued to work on the cutting board at her fingertips.

"You know me, Ms. Maximoff, I love home just a little too much." You smiled and looked at your feet.

"Wanda, dear." She stopped her chopping and looked directly at you. "I was Ms. Maximoff to you because I was your teacher, but we've been over this, darling. Wanda, please."

You sighed. "It just... feels weird!"

"Ok, well you know what we do when things feel weird, Y/N?"

You looked at her questioningly.

"We practice, dear." She stepped around the kitchen island to lean on the counter across from you, and your thoughts started to get louder. "Say it. Say my name." She openly challenged you, so you had to accept.

"W- Wanda?" Your insides were burning.

"With confidence, dear."

You took a breath. "Wanda." You exclaimed, meeting her gaze from a few feet away.

"Good girl. Now use it in a sentence."

You blushed, knowing she saw it, but hoping she assumed it was from your discomfort. "Like... what?"

"Well, I don't know! A compliment, a question, a simple statement? I don't care, just say something. Anything." She commanded as your heart was pounding in your chest.

"I think your eyes are gorgeous, Wanda." Fuck. That wasn't supposed to come out. The woman across from you seemed to freeze briefly. "I mean- your eyes, Tommy and Billy's eyes... you all have the same eyes. I think... I think they're pretty. Wanda." FUCK.

Wanda still hadn't moved, her gaze digging into your soul. She finally took a breath, leaving a long pause in the conversation.

"What do you think of me, Y/N?"

"What?" Disbelief dripping from your reply as the intonation behind her question became lost on you.

"How do you process my image? My persona?" Wanda playfully smirked. "It must at least be slightly askew since I was your teacher, but what role do I play in your life?" She moved some cooking items away from the edge of the counter, proving to you that you had her full attention.

"Do you want me to be honest or uncomfortably honest?"

"I want to know why you chose me. Why you always turned in my homework but nobody else's. Why you wrote me thank you notes and asked me to write your college recommendation letters... why you confide in me and why you respect me so much..."

You stood in shock, feeling your body start to shake from the nerves. Your shoes all of a sudden became really interesting.

"Uncomfortably honest it is, then." You gave a long sigh and glanced back up to see her eyebrows raise in anticipation.

"It was one of the first lectures you gave me in 11th grade. I had started to realize that I was more introverted than I wanted to be, so I challenged myself to break out of that shell. I started doing that by speaking up in class. You had asked a question about our summer reading, and because I already knew you through Tommy, I felt comfortable to answer.

"To my surprise, you started a debate with me... and I didn't back down... and then you applauded me for standing up for something I believed in. That made me want to pay a lot more attention to you." You paused to take a breath, making sure the other woman was still paying attention. Wanda nodded in acknowledgement, but stayed silent to let you continue. "I started to listen to every word that came out of your mouth. I memorized every piece of information you shared, I watched what candy you picked out of the bag first, I payed attention to what music you were listening to, what books you were reading." You paused. "And so I started to notice things.

"You work to understand every single story in the room. You want to help as many people as possible, and you don't let their faults get in your way. You have a passion for what you teach and you want to share it with the world. You have good and bad days just like the rest of us, and you allowed me to see that. You are kind, empathetic, beautiful, and I have a great deal of respect for the way you carry yourself, Wanda."

Your heart raced as the two of you stared at each other for what felt like minutes. You had just poured your heart out to the one person who was never supposed to know anything. Wanda was speechless, which made you nervous. You continued to ramble.

"And- and its tricky because Tommy is genuinely my best friend and I don't know what I'd do without him... but if you're wondering what I think of you, I don't know what I'd do without you either. This family has made me who I am today. And it's all very complicated and confusing and difficult to navigate."

Wanda's eyes still stood stagnant, but you couldn't bear the silence anymore.

"Why do you ask?" You quietly gulped, praying some sound would exit her mouth.

"Would you like to stay for dinner? Billy is with friends tonight and Tommy is with Ruby, as you know, so I fear I have nobody to eat with." Wanda returned her attention to the preparations. The change of subject caught you off guard, but the opportunity to spend time with her was never something you wanted to turn down.

"Uh... sure! Let me just tell my mom I won't be home for our frozen pizza dinner." You made a goofy face that Wanda found hilarious after you commented on your other dinner option.

"Wonderful." A beautiful smile spread across her face as she pulled another plate out of the cupboard and set it on the dining table. "Would you care for a glass of wine?" The offer felt odd coming from the older woman, but it's easy to forget that you're legally allowed to accept alcoholic beverages now.

"That would be nice." You gave her a soft smile.

"I can't believe you're old enough to drink now... better for me so I won't be drinking alone," You both laughed. "Red or white, darling?"

"Whatever you're having." Wanda practically waltzed around the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do to help you prepare?" You asked as she handed you a glass of red.

Wanda paused her movements and looked at you with a silly yet impressed smile. "Well... have you ever made paprikash darling?" She asked and you shook your head. "Would you like to learn?"

"Absolutley." You grinned and Wanda took a sip of her wine.

"Wonderful." She held out her hand for you to join her at the cutting board. "We've got to dice two onions, one tomato and one pepper, as well as mince two cloves of garlic." She placed the kitchen knife in front of you. "I like to use four cloves of garlic though," she nearly whispered in your ear.

"Do you know your way around a cutting board?"

"Uhh... not really?"

"A teaching opportunity then! You can never get away from me, can you?" Wanda's words were spinning in your head even though you knew they were not intended to be. The older woman stepped behind you, moving the knife to your left hand.

"How did you know I was left handed?"

"I pay attention, dear." She casually replied. "Now curl your fingers on your right hand like this-" She placed her palm on top of the back of your hand. "And hold the knife like..." She adjusted the positioning of your thumb and pointer finger. "Good. This is the best way to avoid chopping an extremity off." Your eyes widened, thankful Wanda couldn't see the fear written on your face.

"All that's left to do is slice." She grabbed the readied onion and placed it in the center of the board. Before you knew it, she was guiding your hand through the vegetable while pressing you into the counter from behind. "Wonderful!" She exclaimed as the slice of onion fell onto the board. "Now you keep going!" She stepped out behind you and you tried your hardest to not sulk at her absence.

You missed Wanda's warmth, but nevertheless, you continued slicing and she continued watching.

"Good girl." She spoke the words again, nearly making you loose focus with a dangerous object in your hand. "Now you cut in the opposite direction. I was never good with onions so as long as the pieces look somewhat like cubes, you will have done a wonderful job." That made you laugh and you continued working.

"So tell me more about college! I love having you here but we never get one-on-one time like this. How is your degree path, your teachers, friends? Are you seeing anyone?" The last question was delivered in a goofy, sultry manner as Wanda pulled raw chicken out of the fridge.

You giggled and rolled your eyes. "To get the most pressing question out of the way, I am not seeing anyone. I was slightly interested in a graduate student but we decided it would be better to stay friends. Plus, who gets lucky enough to date a graduate student?"

"A graduate student, eh? How did the two of y'all meet anyways?"

"Well she used to live in the rental where I am now, so I received some old mail of hers. Who woulda thought that the nearly outdated postal service of America almost brought two women together?"

Your joke made Wanda cackle as she turned on the stove to heat the pot.

"Well, at least you have the opportunity to date women on campus, dear. That would have been so much more complicated in my day." She stirred the melting butter in the pan.

"Oh Wanda, don't say 'in my day', that makes you sound like a dinosaur!" You laughed.

"Well, honey, I am a dinosaur!"

"Oh shut up, no you're not. I am shocked every day that there aren't sad little high school boys making rude comments to your face or handsome men on your tail." The room oddly fell silent and you immediately started reflecting on what you had said. You put down the knife even though you were nearly done with the tomato. "When you made the comment about back in your day... - did you... do you wish you had the opportunity to date women?"

An all-telling silence came from Wanda.

"You'd rather have beautiful women on your tail? Is that it?" You smiled at her a little bit, just to make sure she knew that you understood.

"Well... I guess so. The whole 'men' thing only did me one good and that is my boys. Their dad, Vision, was just a good friend and it took me a really long time to realize that."

"That makes perfect sense Wanda." You almost hesitate with your next question, but it feels natural to ask. "Is there any woman that you've ever been particularly curious about?"

Immediately, you could tell Wanda had an answer, but her various facial expressions made it difficult to decipher if she was going to tell you or not. Finally, a glimmer of playfulness lit in her eye.

"Yes, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Tommy."

"So we both know this person then! She must be from school!" You exclaimed, getting excited.

"SHHH!" She looked at you seriously. "I always wondered how I really felt about Carol but she got herself a partner back in May."

It took you a moment to figure out who Wanda was talking about. "Wait- Carol as in Ms. Danvers Carol Danvers?!?" Wanda sheepishly nodded and you smiled wide. "Wanda, I can't blame you at all. Carol was hot at hell." You returned to your tomato, smirking.

"Excuse me!" Wanda was shocked at your remark.

"Oh, c'mon, Wanda. You must know that students talk about a few teachers. Mostly the boys... but they still talk. Danvers was a popular topic in my graduating class! Even I added a comment occaisonally..." You mumbled as you watched Wanda return her eyes to the stove with a scoff.

"Unbelievable." Fake disgust dripped from Wanda's voice as you held back your laugh. She pulled the chicken out of the pot and grabbed the onions from your board, tossing them into the oil. "You said a few teachers..." She whipped back around. "Who else was on the hot commodity list?"

You playfully scoffed. "Well there was coach Wilson amongst the girls and also Ms. Hill with the guys."

"Interesting."

"Oh, and of course we can't forget you."

"EXCUSE ME?"

You let out an outrageous burst of laughter. "What?! All of the students fangirl over how nice you are if they aren't upset with their grades in your class! The boys love how mysterious and alluring you are and the girls think you're extremely personable, which is true."

Wanda let a brief silence fall on the conversation. "And you?"

You paused. "I already told you what I think of you Wanda." You smiled and handed her the rest of the chopped veggies. "Here you go." A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Wanda continued to work, claiming there was nothing else for you to do at the moment. Eventually, she covered the pot she had been focusing on and turned the kitchen timer on.

"We've got about thirty minutes of waiting before there will be anything else to do," she spoke as she finally poured more wine into the both of your empty glasses. "I hope you liked this red, darling. I don't know how experienced you are with alcohol yet... although i'm assuming it's more so than you should be for your age."

You giggled. "I have maybe had my fair share of underage drinking, just like any decent college kid might," you replied as you accepted the glass from Wanda and followed her to the nearby couch. You both got comfortable and you watched as the older woman pulled a blanket across her thighs. The absence of conversation began to feel a little overwhelming, but you weren't expecting Wanda to break it with the next sentence she spoke.

"You're actually the first person i've told about liking women," she began. You raised your eyebrows in shock. Not that she hasn't told anyone before, just that the first person she wants to confide in is you.

"Wow." You began. "I don't know if I'm the most appropriate person to offer this, but do you have any questions? I am comfortable answering anything as long as you are comfortable asking." You stared at Wanda as you sipped your wine, watching the gears turn in her head.

"Yes I-" Her hesitations finally diminished. "Have you ever dated a man?" You were not expecting that.

"Yes, I tried. I was in a similar situation where he was my best friend. This was in 9th grade, that is, but I still knew that I was supposed to feel more."

"How is it different?"

"Than women?" You watched as Wanda nodded. "Well there is an objective answer and a personal answer. The objective one goes to say that it comes down to the person and how you connect with them. How your life experiences tie together and whatnot. Objectively, I can't say that much because every individual is unique. Personally though, women are infinitely better."

This made Wanda laugh, which you were quickly realizing you would give anything to hear more and more of.

"They better understand your life experiences and how to navigate emotional situations, especially the mature ones. The way they display affection is usually more personable and caring, too. They also are more attentive to details, both mentally and physically."

"How so?"

You could feel the alcohol beginning to stir, making it harder for some thoughts and words to stay away from your brain. "Well mentally, women tend to catch onto social cues faster, like when their partner needs a break or needs to eat or needs cuddles or space. Physically, they pay more attention to how your lips move and how you like to be kissed, not just where." You noticed Wanda's eyes following the path of your lips and jawline, making you stammer for a moment.

"What else?"

You gulped, beginning to realize you had no idea how far this conversation would go. "Well, The body parts that they work to please are also the same parts they touch in their free time. They know how moving on something feels different than something moving on it... and so on."

Wanda tried to verbally confirm that she understood but you could tell she was a little lost in her head. She took a big sip of wine. And another.

"I was reading something the other day..." Wanda drew out and took a big breath. "Her tongue was on the...- and she had two fingers in-" Wanda stared at her hands, oblivious to the glaze over your eyes as your listened to your former teacher talk about fucking another woman. "Is that even possible?"

"Uh- um- yea- yes. It is. It takes a little bit of practice to figure out how to do it comfortably but - yes."

It was now your turn to take a big sip of wine.

"Oh I see."

"Do you have any other questions?" You know you shouldn't, but you wanted her to say yes. Your heart was racing and you could feel a velvety slick form in your pants.

"How are your classes going?" Her tone changed but she was still focused on her hands.

You let out a big gust of air from the tension you were feeling, semi relieved that the conversation had changed but also slightly confused. "Uh, classes are good. I've got most of the hard ones out of the way, so it's really just the fun ones left."

"Like what?"

"Well I have a science elective left so I'm taking intro to geology which is supposed to be wonderful. I've also signed up for a Shakespeare lecture that should be phenomenal too. It's being taught by my favorite professor, so I can't wait to have her again."

Wanda's eyes glanced up at that. "Again?"

"Yeah, I had her for my ethics class in freshman year and she was excellent. One of those teachers whose work I actually enjoyed doing. She really understood the students and designed her class structure to fit our interests."

Wanda didn't want to address the confusion that she was experiencing... almost jealousy, but the next question did not hesitate to fall from her lips.

"Do you have a picture?"

This caught you off guard. "Uh, yeah, I bet I could find her Linked-In or something." You pulled out your phone for a quick internet search. "Here she is on the school website."

You moved your phone in front of Wanda, not realizing until now how similar the two of them looked. Wanda also took notice.

"Was she on the list?" Wanda asked. "The list of teachers that students would talk about?"

"Oh, ha, no she wasn't." This line of questioning was risky, but you continued producing a response. "She was only part time and besides, that's more of a hormonal high school thing."

A brief pause entered the conversation. "Well, would she have been?" Wanda was speaking softly.

"Well, you were in high school once. What do you think?"

"Me?" Wanda's eyes widened and you nodded. "I think she would have been," the older woman drew out.

"I think you're right, Ms. Maximoff." You smirked as you took your phone back.

The two of you spent the rest of the half hour dancing around dangerous conversation, the mood lightening a little bit. You gained some insight into how the high school was holding up, and even heard some gossip about the faculty which made you really excited. You told Wanda more about what you were studying and what your plans were for after university, as well as how your summer was.

When dinner was finally ready, Wanda topped off the wine and the two of you sat down together to eat. The food was phenomenal and the company even better. The two of you went back and forth sharing memories from high school, true feelings about teachers and students being poured out. Wanda also got to know you more as you shared what books you had been reading and shows you had been watching.

Eventually, the room had quieted down as the two of you were focused on finishing the rest of your food.

"The food was astounding, thank you so much Wanda." You smiled as you set down your utensils and the older woman took her last bite.

"Mhm..." She swallowed, covering her mouth. "I would say 'you're welcome' but you helped me cook, dear, so I should really be saying thank you."

Your eyes met as the two of you stared, an odd silence threatening the conversation.

"So, clean up! What can I do to help?" You asked, standing up from the table with your plate.

"Oh, no, dear, please let me take care of it!" Before you knew it, Wanda had snatched your plate out of your hands.

"Are you-"

"Yes, yes, just sit down honey." She smiled at you as she moved around the kitchen, swiftly cleaning the mess from dinner. "So what has been your favorite class so far?" She asked as she worked. "Besides- besides that class with that teacher you like." The comment unintentionally sounded bitter, and the idea of Wanda being jealous entertained you.

"Well, besides ethics, I actually really liked my required fitness class. The semester I dedicated to the credit was a popular fitness semester, so finding an open section was hard, but I was able to get a seat in ballroom dance."

"Interesting! I didn't take you for much of a dancer." Wanda looked up at you from the sink, smiling.

"Neither did I, Wanda." You heard her lovely laugh again. "And I was not the star student in the class either, but I think I liked it the most."

"Oh yeah? What was your favorite dance?"

"The tango," you replied as you smiled, some bout of confidence overcoming you. "Would you like to learn?"

Wanda paused what she was doing then looked up at you with a smile. "Bold of you to assume to I don't already know it, but you would also be right. I would be open to it." She replied and you giggled, pulling out your phone for some music.

"Oh, now?!" Wanda watched as you stood up. "Honey, I-"

"No better time like the present!" You held out your hand for her to join you, the alcohol adding to your charm and boldness.

"Ok..." Wanda mumbled, wiping her hands off on the closest rag. She joined you in the open space, placing her hand in yours and you guiding it into place.

"Now the tango is a walking dance, so it is perfect to take it slow and steady. There are 5 basic steps, but i'll keep it simple and teach you two." Wanda nodded as you pressed play on your phone. "Now, screw traditional roles, but for the sake of simplicity, I will be the man and you the woman." You locked eyes with Wanda as she smiled, but you could see the looming intimacy behind her eyes. You could feel it too, standing this close to her body as you placed your hand on her back.

Teaching the first step was easy - Wanda was more inclined to the movements than you thought she would be. All you two were doing was striding in a circle, but every step you took became lighter and relaxing into each other was easier. Her nose tilted further towards you and yours towards hers - and for a moment, nothing else existed in the world.

Wanda was staring into yours eyes and you could barely breathe. Staring back was difficult - you kept averting your gaze to the floor or elsewhere in the house, desperately trying to comprehend the situation. But it was magical. Once you discovered though, that Wanda's piercing green eyes were the most relaxing thing to focus on, you were stuck.

And then you stepped on her toe.

"Fuck!" You exclaimed, tripping as Wanda struggled to keep you from falling.

"Are you alright?" She asked as you composed yourself.

"I should be asking you that! I'm sorry."

Wanda laughed. "I'm perfectly alright darling. Now what's this about a second step?"

You blushed, Wanda essentially admitting she was enjoying this and wanted to continue. This was bizarre.

"Uh, it's pretty much the same for me. You get to shake it up a little bit."

"Oh?" She smiled and held her hands back out, awaiting the comfort of your return. You stepped into her grasp. "I can't wait," She winked.

This woman was going to be the death of you.

"Uh-m... - good!" You swallowed. "This is essentially the same as the last one, except now you're pivoting into me instead of pacing." You returned your hands to their proper placements.

"Like this?" She attempted a few steps with you.

"Almost. You don't need so much power to twist. Try again?" The two of you resumed stepping together.

"How's this?"

She almost had it, her knees just weren't getting the proper guidance. You dropped your hands down to her hips.

"Oh-" You froze. "May I?" Your hands were softly touching her jeans. You found Wanda staring, eventually returning a nod. Gently, you applied more pressure onto her joints and resumed stepping. Now, you could easily move her hips, and she quickly picked up the proper motion. "There you go." You looked back up at her eyes. "You're doing so well, Wanda."

She was speechless as you moved your hands back up to their proper position, rarely letting your fingertips leave her surface. It was easy to assume that a lot was going on behind her eyes... the step became mindless to her as she continuously scanned over your facial features.

"Wanda?"

She snapped out of it and ended the dance just as the song ended. "Thank you for teaching me, darling." She smiled softly. "That was wonderful." She returned to the kitchen in silence, leaving you alone.

"You were able to pick it up rather quickly. I was surprised." You said, following her to the kitchen and leaning against a counter. You could tell though that there were still gears turning in her head, so you let her be the one to talk next.

This allowed for a moment of quiet as you watched her finish cleaning the pot from dinner. Her back was to you as she washed and rinsed, softly humming the song from the tango.

When she was done, she still hesitated to turn around.

"Y/N?" She finally spoke, still away from you.

"Yes?"

"When I asked you what you thought of me, you said...- you said you thought I was beautiful."

You quietly laughed. "Out of all that I said, that's what you took away?"

"Darling, I-" she hesitated again. "Did you mean it?"

You did not wait to conjure up a response. "I meant every word of what I said. I mean... I have practiced telling you all of that nonsense for so long even though I never thought it would happen. I just want you to know that... that I care about you. And I do think you're beautiful, Wanda Maximoff. Without a doubt."

"You think I'm beautiful?" She tried not to choke on her words.

You took a deep breath, having done all possible damage already. "Yes, yes I do." You hesitated before speaking again. "I think that you are beautiful. Inside and out."

Wanda finally turned around, and her response was something you couldn't have predicted in a million years.

"I... I think that you are beautiful too."

You stared at her in disbelief.

"You do?"

"In every single way, you are beautiful." She paused. "The way that you carry yourself... the way you smile, the way you laugh. The moments you hold onto and the memories you make. The way your eyes shine when you're proud of something... all of it is beautiful."

She pushed off the counter and walked towards you as a tear formed in your eye. Her hand reached up to brush it away as it rolled down your cheek, but instead of placing it back at her side, her hand stayed cradling the side of your face. Your eyes raced as you traced every line and mark on her skin, noticing how her green glazed stare wouldn't look away.

The two of you stayed like that, simply staring at each other, hearts racing.

"Y/N?" Her eyes didn't leave yours.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to do something really stupid."

"Ok."

For the first time in what felt like hours, her eyes left yours, and instead went to your lips. She met your gaze one more time before slowly leaning in, closing the distance between you.

You couldn't believe what was happening as everything in your body burned. She used her hand to tilt your lips in her direction, and before you knew it, her mouth was on yours.

You initially didn't return the kiss, but before long, her sensation became addicting and you needed to know what more felt like.

Your lips were now pushing back on hers with curiosity and interest, slowly working through the feelings coursing through your entire body. Her mouth only briefly left yours before you were returning to another delicate kiss, delighted to see that it was being reciprocated with the small swipe of a tongue.

You let her into your mouth, eager to know what it felt like.

And whatever she was doing... well... it rocked your world. You caught yourself about to moan, which quickly brought you to your senses as you pushed her away.

"Oh my god." You took a deep breath and stared at the floor.

"What?"

"You kissed me." You looked up and found her gaze full of lust; dark eyes roaming your body unapologetically. You couldn't believe that look was real, but the excitement consumed you.

"You kissed me back." She said, finding your stare again. The only thing worse than her intense gaze was the fact that she was right.

You were finding it very difficult not to pull her back on top of you. "Shit."

"Did you- were you ok with that?" Wanda asked nervously. She seems as nervous as you were, almost as if she couldn't believe what was happening either. Neither of you knew that you wanted this, but everything feels right now that it's there.

"Fuck, yes." You rubbed your face in frustration, struggling to function in the current situation. The nerves, heat and alcohol were all mixing together and before you knew it, the real uncomfortable truth slipped out.

"I'm fucking obsessed with you, Ms. Maximoff." You held your breath after messing up on her name, but instead of correcting you, her jaw slightly dropped at your desperation.

Out of some bout of confidence, you stepped into her space, backed her into the counter and dismissed every reason why the two of you should not happen. Her eyes stared you down with anticipation and desire. You brought your hands up to her head and wove your fingers into her hair, craving to feel her again.

"It's my turn to do something really stupid now, ok?"

She nodded slowly, afraid to avert her gaze.

As you leaned in towards her mouth, she took a deep breath and shuttered. Her hands moved to hold your hips just before your lips met, and this time, it was her turn to freeze once your mouth touched hers. You immediately began to panic, but just as you pulled away, she pulled your hips into hers and met your mouth with haste.

Immediately melting into her touch, a soft moan quickly escaped your lips as you tugged on her fiery locks. She gasped in return, giving you the chance to slide your tongue into her mouth and elicit a sound off of her shaky breath.

After all of your longing and pining and secrecy and wishful thinking, she was yours. Right now, as her fingertips were feeling your body for the first time and her sensation was consuming, you were struggling to believe that everything was real.

But the warm skin touching your side was undeniable. The wet tongue that was gently exploring your mouth was unquestionable, and the moans that were escaping the woman in front of you were unlike anything you could conjure in a dream.

One of your hands shakily released its grasp on Wanda's hair and made its way around her neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. When your action resulted in a smooth moan from the other woman, you smirked, not expecting that in a million years. You brought that hand down to her waist so you could hold her body as close as possible.

"You liked that, Ms. Maximoff?" You breathed into her mouth, knowing she could sense your heated grin.

"Shut up and do it again."

You lightly laughed at her begging, but you were desperate to please her. Leaning in to kiss her again, you pushed your hand on her waist from her belly button back up to her neck, this time squeezing harder. She threw her head back from the pleasuring pain, which you saw as an opportunity to turn your mouth's attention to her neck. As your warm lips met her skin and your hands went to roam her curves, she audibly gasped, and you were soaking up every reaction that you could drag out of her.

Wanda's hands found the back of your head as she encouraged your sucking and biting, careless of how aggressive you were being. Your own fingertips began to entertain the rim of her jeans, testing the waters as you caressed her lower back. You were itching to move lower, but every aspect of the current situation was territory that you never imagined you would be in before.

"Where can I touch you?" You whispered under her ear.

She laughed, followed by a soft moan as you bit her lobe. "Oh, detka, we've moved way past that line of consent," She replied as she grabbed one of your hands and moved it to her ass. "I want to feel you. All of you."

"Yes ma'am," You smirked and returned your kisses to her neck, placing both hands on her ass and pulling her hips into you. A groan reached your ears as your tongue met the base of her collar bone.

With your mouth now at the top of her shirt, your hands traced her sides as you bent your knees to meet her clothed belly button. Grasping and lifting the bottom of her shirt with your fingers, you began to stand back up, slowly kissing and licking a straight line up her front to where her bra connected in the center.

"Wait," She said as you were about to teethe the fabric, immediately dropping the shirt and standing all the way back up. Your heart was racing, unable to predict what she was about to say. She looked as if she was genuinely questioning the situation, and you were terrified. "Bedroom. Now."

Before you could process the sense of relief that washed over your body, Wanda was dragging you towards the hallway that led to her room. Even though you'd been in her space several times, the idea of fucking her in her own bed was driving you mad.

Before either of you could make it two steps into the room, you shut the door and placed her up against the wood. For a moment, all you could do was stare into her eyes, and all she could do was stare back. This was crazy. Her hand twitched on your back, and you lost control.

You immediately pressed your lips back onto hers, lifting her wrists up and holding them against the door. She groaned as your tongue explored her mouth, your hands eventually finding their way back to the rim of her shirt. Now wasting no time, you lifted the article of clothing off of her body as she gladly held her arms above her head.

After tossing the shirt aside, you found yourself taken aback by her body. Her simple, red bra complimented her soft skin, hugging her gently. The stretch marks that remained from her pregnancy were like highlights of the moon reflecting off of the ocean, and the way her breasts moved with her heavy breathing had you in a trance.

"Holy shit," you whispered, slowly moving your mouth towards her sternum, beginning to place soft kisses in a line.

"What?" Wanda asked.

"You're breathtaking."

"Well, I'm not what I used to be."

Your hands roamed her back as you continued your delicate kisses on her breasts.

"I don't want what you used to be, Wanda. I think you're perfect the way you are now." You said as you unclipped her bra, slipping the straps off of her shoulders. The two of you locked eyes as you slid the article down her arms. Her swollen lips and wondrous gaze were stuck on your being as your lungs seemed to be missing air.

To your surprise, Wanda's next move was to lunge at you, forcing you to walk backwards as her tongue explored your mouth and her hands worked to remove your shirt. You jumped when the backs of your knees met the bed, but Wanda didn't seem to notice as she pushed you back and climbed on top. Distracted by the feeling of being in her bed and her tongue beginning to explore your chest, you tangled your fingers into her hair and tugged.

"Fuck," She moaned, looking up at you, and you froze. A pair of of desperate green eyes and wet, swollen lips were staring up at you, and your english teacher had just moaned a curse word. You felt like you were on another planet.

"Shit, you're attractive." You mumbled and the older woman blushed. "Tugging hair, choking... this is only the beginning, Wanda." You smirked at her from under her body, and her only response was kissing you deeply.

You used this moment as an opportunity to push her on her back, quickly mounting her before she could protest, although you don't think she would have. You took the moment to drag your fingertips down her front and run each nipple over with your thumbs.

"Oh, Fuck, babygirl, you're driving me-" You eagerly latched your mouth onto a breast, receiving a heavy gasp from the woman below you. You continued on with your work, playing with the free nipple in one hand and stroking a thigh with the other. Her fingers were dancing across your back, eventually making their way to unclasp your bra.

The moment you felt the relief, you gently bit down on her delicate nipple, causing Wanda to arch upwards and rake her nails down your back. The pain caught you by surprise as you leaned into her and moaned into her ear. You could feel her smirk against your skin.

"Shut up." You groaned.

"Make me." She replied, trying to tug your bra down your arms.

You sat up to fully remove the article of clothing, entertained by the hands that were running up your side to cup your breasts. You rested for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Wanda's massaging.

"Is this what you wanted from me, detka? Is this what you picture when you think of me?"

"To be honest, I never let myself consider it. But I always wondered what it would be like..." You smirked and placed your hands on her stomach. "Why? Is this something you've fantasized about? Having me on top of you, topless and moaning?" You leaned back over her body, your hands moving to massage her breasts and your breath teasing her other nipple.

"Oh honey," She laughed and moved her touches to and down your back. "I've thought about all of this. What your mouth on my tits would be like, how your fingers would feel inside of me..." Your movements stopped as you stared at her. "How hard would you fuck me and with how many fingers and how much tongue. How much would you edge me and make me crazy. What you would look like in-between my legs with my cum dripping from your lips? I'm simply curious, darling." Her hands cupped your ass as you worked up a response.

"Well aren't you lucky, Ms. Maximoff," You began with a shakey voice, one hand holding you up and the other teasing her stomach. "Cause you get to find out." You moved your fingers to the top her jeans and you popped the button open. "Have you ever pictured me rubbing out your cunt?" Wanda simply stared. "Well, we should probably start there." You slid your hands into her jeans and started making circles over her clothed pussy, watching as she took a deep breath and opened her mouth. You could feel her slickness in the fabric.

"Fuck, Wanda, you're already drenched." You groaned as you finally placed your lips on her other breast. Her wet cunt was already coating your fingers and you realized that you were so close to tasting her. "You're so wet for me, I've hardly done anything."

"Darling, you've done more for me than anyone else ever has." She groaned.

"Do you want me to do more?"

"Baby, please."

You immediately took your hand out of her jeans and turned your attention to taking them off entirely. You could hardly contain yourself as she lifted her hips and helped you slide the denim off of her skin, her now drenched panties completely visible.

"Wow," You whispered, crawling back on top of her body, bringing your face up to hers so your noses could meet again.

"Hi," She smiled sheepishly, and you gave her a loving kiss.

"Gods, you're stunning. I can't wait to be inside you." You kissed her again.

"I want to touch you too, babygirl." Wanda whispered and you smiled.

"Touch anything you'd like, Ms. Maximoff."

Wanda's eyes scanned your body. "I also want these off." She pulled at the hem of your pants then dragged her fingernails up and down your sides.

Shivering, you dismounted Wanda and stood up, putting on a show of you taking off your pants.

"You mean these old things?" You bent over so Wanda could see the fabric sliding down your ass, taking your time even though it was painful.

"Detka, you're killing me." Wanda sat up to watch as the hem dragged down your legs, revealing your most flattering panties. The attention she was giving you was lighting you on fire. You heard her audibly gasp when you started to pull at the final piece of clothing, but you instead let go of your panties and turned back around, smirking.

"Now, Ms. Maximoff, I can't do all of the work for you." You waltzed back over to the bed, remounting the older woman. You watched as her eyes followed the dark spot on your only remaining article. Grinning, you leaned into her ear. "Ill touch yours if you touch mine."

"Please, baby." She whispered. You sat up so she could see all of you again, this time reaching a hand down to where your panties covered your pussy. Making sure she was watching, you pulled the fabric aside.

"Go on, Wanda, it's all yours."

She slowly reached a hand to your slickness, and the moment you finally felt contact, you took a deep breath. At first, she just held one finger there, but eventually, small movements began to circle your clit. You moaned. "Good job, M- Ms. Maxi- mo--" She slipped a finger into you. "FUCK. You feel so good. You're doing so good." You noticed Wanda's eyes were glued to her finger moving in and out of you, trying to fill in the picture that was still hidden by the thin fabric.

You opened your eyes just in time to see her pull out her finger and bring it up to her lips, sensually sucking you off and whining at your taste. Excitedly, you let go of your panties and leaned down to taste yourself on her tongue.

"How did that feel, Wanda?" You smirk, coming out of the deep kiss and pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"God- babygirl... you- you're driving me crazy." Her hips softly rolled under you as she pulled your head back down for another aching kiss. You ran the hand that wasn't supporting your weight over her breasts and down her body, scratching at the skin below her belly button. "Please, honey... I..." She mumbled in-between kisses, you hardly giving her a chance to speak. When you finally pulled away a few inches, no more words were leaving her lips as her chest heaved for air.

"What is it, Ms. Maximoff?" You smirked, playing with the elastic around her waist.

"I need you to touch me."

"Yes ma'am." You watched her facial expressions as your hand finally dove into her panties, the moisture immediately apparent. Her eyes widened when your pointer finger found the velvety slick and you immediately knew you would do anything in your power to make sure she knew how good another woman could make her feel. Your digit slowly started exploring the rest of the area, soft moans escaping the older woman as you glazed over her clit and entrance.

"Have you ever been touched like this, Wanda?" You whispered into her ear, making a few nips at her lobe.

"N-no..." She sighed as you began intentionally circling her clit.

"Nobody to notice what you like... what you want. This wet, pretty pussy wasted on cheap condoms and a quick fuck."

A sinful moan left her body as your lips once again returned to her neck, you quickly learning where her sensitive spots were. "Shit, baby." Her nails were digging into your shoulder blades.

"Nobody to know how warm and soft you are," You said, shoving a finger into her entrance, groaning as she gasped. "And it's a damn shame, cause you feel so perfect, Ms. Maximoff." You met her eyes when you could see the surprise on her face at your last statement. Your finger started moving slowly in and out, trying to map out every dip and line you could feel. "So perfect."

You once again reattached your lips to hers, feeling the vibrations from her moans on your tongue. You could stay like this forever, you felt. But Wanda did not.

"Detka, I need more. Please." Her slight accent slipping through, reaching down to your core.

You pulled your finger out of her and she whined, fearing her pleading made you step back. Little did she know, but she would be getting exactly what she asked for.

"I would love to give you more, but these are gonna need to come off." You dragged your soaked finger down her stomach to grab at her panties and she frantically nodded.

"Yeh- yes please. I want to feel all of you."

You smirked, moving back to finally drag the rest of the fabric down her legs. When you finally brought yourself to look at the painting between her legs though, you could hardly breathe. Her folds were swollen and soaked with her wetness, slightly moving with her body as her chest rose and fell. You felt so divided, debating consuming her immediately or taking your time to work her up.

You realized while the first option was so tempting, the second would give her the full experience. You slowly reached your fingertips to graze over her thigh, small whimpers coming from the older woman.

"Oh, Wanda, you are divine." You muttered, now dragging both palms up her waist and down the sides of her ass as you repositioned yourself closer to her core. Eyes dragging up and down her person when you spotted the wetness that you had left on her stomach earlier. You leaned down to clean it all up, finally getting to taste her tanginess on your tongue. You moaned into her skin.

"Detka..." She gasped as you moved your mouth down to her inner thighs and you hands to grip her waist. Her smell was driving you crazy as her taste lingered in your throat. You began to slowly suck at the warm soft terrain, finding it easy to pull the skin between your teeth. A hand was placed on your head, pulling on your hair in a desperate attempt to get you closer to her core. You simply laughed, leaving red spots everywhere in-between her thighs.

Despite your grip on her hips, she still found some movements, directing your attention to the quiet sticky sounds coming from her pussy. You watched in a daze as her small twitches pushed around the slick, begging to be touched again.

You couldn't take it anymore, fully embracing her wetness with a torturous lick up her core. The groan that escaped Wanda was heavenly as she tried to tug you back onto her. You complied, picking up a slow routine of collecting her mess into your mouth. You dug your fingers deeper into her sides, addicted to her pain response.

"Oh, good girl, baby. That, wow." She said as you began to suckle on her clit, striving for every reaction you could get out of her. "Holy fuck."

You smirked, finally sliding a finger back into her dripping hole and continuing to work on her clit with your mouth. You knew this pace you were making would not be enough, but you wanted the older woman to beg for it. You could tell she already wanted to as your hair only got tugged harder and finger nails started scratching at your arms.

After only a short time, you decided to amp up the teasing with another finger into her entrance, but you would not change your pace. You took breaks on her clit when you felt she was building up too many knots, paying attention to her audible sighs as if she was taking a cold plunge and making sure her lungs were still working.

"Darling, please... oh-"

You blew on her clit as you watched how your fingers slid in and out of her, collecting up her slick.

"Baby please make me cum. You feel s-so good but you're destroying me Y/N/N."

"You want me that bad, Ms. Maximoff?" You grinned.

"Darling, its not a want. It's a need. Now. Please."

"Ok, as long as you look at me as I fuck you clean. I want you to know what good love feels and looks like." You smirked as she pulled a pillow under your head, elated when she gasped at the image before her... your chin soaked, eyes hungry and smile cruel. You kept eye contact with her as you sunk back down to her core, living in the light of her stare. You began to continue the licks and pumps, but she let her eyes roll back, which you hadn't told her to do.

"Eyes on me, Ms. Maximoff. I'm in charge right now." You couldn't believe those words had just rolled off of your tongue, but clearly she hadn't either as your gazes reconnected.

"You little sl-" She went speechless as you started a more aggressive pace, ensuring her green glare was on you. Once you had decided she would stay like that, you moved all of your attention to her pussy, finally tying all the knots together in her core. Her moans and whimpers were everything to you, even when you noticed her upper body was becoming too weak. You decided to let her finish, knowing she more than deserved it.

"Detka, I think I'm gonna cum- I"

"The stage is yours" You mumbled into her, internally grinning. You pumped a few more times and the next thing you know, Wanda has thrown her head down and arched off the bed. You could feel her cum as you watched the sight before you, the older woman unable to control her high.

You stared in awe as your fingers worked her off her high, chest heaving and hands rubbing her eyes. You slowly pulled your fingers out of her twitchy hole, making sure her eyes were back on you as you raised your digits to your lips.

"Wow, babygirl, that was... amazing." She pulled you over for a kiss, adjusting to her taste on your tongue. "Thank you."

You giggled. "You know, Wanda, another nice thing about women is that they have the stamina to make you cum more than once in a night... if you're interested." You smirked.

Her jaw slightly dropped. "More than once?"

╚══《✧》══╝

Thanks for reading!

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #elwriteswanda #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #dom reader #lesbian #wanda maximoff x female reader #wlw smut #wanda maximoff smut

626 notes · View notes

monicahar · 2 years

Text

reminiscence.

fem! reader, scara and nahida would act like siblings change my mind, includes sumeru archon quest spoilers!

“would you mind telling me more about [name]?”

scaramouche had to make sure he was hearing things correctly.

“excuse me?”

“[name]. i want to know more about her.”

the tiny god of wisdom gently rocks back and forth on her makeshift swing created by her control over dendro—watching over the city of sumeru with soft eyes whilst the former harbinger stares daggers onto the back of her head.

a sigh escapes the man's lips from behind her, a telltale sign of his incoming exasperation, “you read my mind without my permission again? i remember clearly telling you to cut it out, didn't i?” his annoyance doesn't come unnoticed by the observant child.

“it was quite improper of me to do so, but i'm the god of wisdom. i actively seek out knowledge, and such—i couldn't resist the temptation of peering onto a mind as eccentric as yours.” her tone remains understanding of his irritation, yet all the more wise in explaining her unwarranted prying.

the dark-haired male behind her hums, leaning back onto the tree as he shuts his eyes closed, seemingly given up on voicing his displeasure towards the archon.

“tell me what you know so i'll know where to start.”

his immediate compliance makes the curious child turn her head his way, staring at him with wide eyes.

“you...” nahida trails off as she smiles in relief, quickly reminding herself to not comment on his chosen act of opening up as he might get impatient and dismiss the subject altogether.

the distant chatter of her people down at the city successfully averts her attention from him, her eyes now gazing down at a certain blonde traveller stopping by to buy some supplies for their next adventure.

“you were dreaming of her during your slumber. she's...the fourth betrayal you encountered, correct?” nahida knows that you were anything but a betrayal, but she has to bend her words to his whims for now as to avoid a temper tantrum.

scaramouche hums in response.

“out of all the companions you've trusted, you seemed to cling onto your memories of her the most. why is that?”

“if you've read my mind, then i'm sure you already know why.”

“you're not gonna deny it?” the lesser lord cranes her neck to look at him over her shoulder, brows raised questioningly at his statement. “that you were in love, romantically?” she had carefully formed the question to give him the freedom of denying it just in case he wasn't ready to face his past just yet, but this situation was clearly something she didn't expect.

the male remains resting against the tree behind him, uncaring of the child's rather surprised gaze as his eyes stay shut. “if there's one thing you taught me while being under your care, it has to be acceptance.” he feels his anemo vision thrum to life by his chest, but he pays no mind to it as he continues, “i have nothing to lose now, so I might as well stop lying to myself to give my existence some type of meaning.”

nahida can't help the softening of her eyes towards the male, her smile widening by a fraction before she returns her gaze towards the city below her. if anything, that's probably his way of thanking her. it's a pretty roundabout way considering the better alternatives, but it managed to get the message across, didn't it?

she sighs in content, “that's essentially all I know about her. once again, would you mind telling me how she was like?”

you would probably pass out if you found out that the god of wisdom wishes to know more about you.

the ends of his lips twitch upwards for a moment as he thinks back on the memories he held dearly of you;

ranging from the embarrassing and funny moments you two shared like that one time you accidentally mistook him as a girl due to how graceful and fair his skin and face was, or up to the more intimate moments—like watching the narukami festival unfold along with its blooming fireworks from the mountain peaks of tatarasuna...

...and that one time he finally let your desires free and bared himself for you to touch—his first time.

he feels his cheeks burn at the thought, crossing his arms with a huff as if to breathe out the sinful thoughts.

now that he was free from the shackles of burdens and hatred, everything he experienced with you no longer seemed to be as bitter and disgusting to recall—unlike the times before where he'd have occasional dreams of you back in the fatui, the pettiness in his nerves as he calls it a nightmare that reminds him of how naïve and weak he was back then.

he returns to the matter at hand with a new sense of clarity—now what was he supposed to say again?

right. he was supposed to tell nahida about you.

he can't believe he's still blushing over you after all these centuries.

lifting his eyelids, the first thing he catches in his eyesight was nahida's knowing smile—directed right at him as she stays still on her swing.

why is she—?

oh.

making haste with his movements, he quickly lifts his hand to pull down his hat over his face, only to discover he wasn't wearing his hat at the moment—so pathetically enough, he opts to cover his face with a hand, shyly hiding his face from the grinning archon as he looks away with reddened cheeks and ears.

he got too carried away while reminiscing, it seems.

“i see...so you're still very much in love with her, hm?” nahida speaks up with a teasing tilt to her voice, relishing in this rare moment of the male's lowered guard, “not like i blame you. she was really pretty in your dreams, and probably even prettier in person.”

“shut up. do you want me to continue or not?”

with a quick apology amidst her fit of giggles, she nods, looking away once again from the eccentric wanderer to give him the privacy he deserves.

“sorry, sorry. now you may start.”

her curiousity is piqued. just how much of an impact did you make to cause the male to make such interesting reactions?

she's about to find out now, it seems.

might make part two idk

#scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin drabbles #wanderer x reader #har❗fiction #nahida #genshin impact fanfic

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lucysarah-c · 23 days

Text

Scratches down his back

Summary: Repeat after me, nothing good happens in the common showers unless it’s Levi sandwiching you with the wet wall. Sadly, this is not the case. So, nothing good will happen. Author's Note: I'm revisiting this piece, my second-ever Levi fanfiction, after Tumblr inexplicably removed it. I've made a few alterations, so if you recall the original, you might notice some differences. I've attempted to recreate it to the best of my memory. Despite initially intending it to be full NSFW, I've reconsidered; it doesn't quite match the tone I'm aiming for. This leans more towards being a Crack fic than an NSFW one. Warning: This story contains suggestive themes but nothing explicit. Word Count: 2.8k

She lotioned up, fingers deftly twisting and knotting the towel around her body to keep it from slipping. Annoying groans echoed in the humid tiled space as she struggled to finish her routine while maintaining modesty and not taking up too much space.

"Holy Sheena," a voice called from her right, making her turn around hastily.

"What?" she responded.

Hange walked closer, seeming less concerned about covering up after coming out of the shower. "Those bruises... tell Shorty he's supposed to fuck you, not try to kill you," they joked.

She sighed intently and found the well-marked fingertips around her hips, washing away marks around her wrists and the obvious hickeys and bite marks on her inner thighs and lower collarbone to conceal them from daily life. Y/N couldn't help but chuckle.

"Forgot I had those," she commented, momentarily happy before furrowing her brow again. "I can't find anything here!"

The former HQ of the scouts lacked a pumping water system, everything (despite her boyfriend's attempts) smelled of mold and humidity. The place was freezing due to the tall ceilings and lack of proper insulation, especially in the middle of the forest where temperatures dropped the lowest. Having to shower there, under shaky candlelight, with buckets of water and a cup to pour it on her body was a nightmare.

"How could you forget?" Hange seemed less stressed about the shower situation, either because they had fewer steps in their routine or because they were less ashamed.

"I got used to it, and I usually don't share bathrooms, so no one can see me naked," she explained, searching among her personal hygiene items for the next step in her routine. "I forgot how impractical communal showers were."

"Ah, yes, because you and your hubby have all the space for yourselves," the brunette joked, making kissing sounds to annoy her further.

"You're just jealous that my love life is very active," she retorted.

"Don't point those fingers at me, save those assumptions for Erwin," Hange teased.

Their banter made her laugh and nod slightly in agreement. "Speaking of which, did he send you here to help with something?"

"Supervise a bit of the situation for him and fill out reports for the MPs and the military board," Y/N explained casually as she started to put on comfy clothes.

"So, basically... a conjugal visit so Levi doesn't get blue balls," They quipped.

Coughing loudly as the foam from the toothpaste made her choke in shock, she spat into the sink before looking up, blushing deeply. "HANGE!"

The squad leader chuckled, unfazed by the outburst. "Your marks tell me I'm right. You arrived last night, and he jumped on you like a beast in heat."

She scoffed, not saying a word as her mouth was still full of toothpaste. Frowning slightly at the squad leader and shooting them an askance look, but Hange didn't seem offended, taking the conversation lightheartedly.

As they finished their dental routines, Y/N was surprised by Hange's efficiency. They clearly had different notions of after-shower routines.

"Don't be so hard on him," Y/N defended her boyfriend tenderly as she rinsed the toothpaste residue. "He's stressed about the whole Titan boy situation. He needed to unwind."

Both walked out of the room lethargically, as if neither had anywhere urgent to be. "That's the excuse Shorty gave you? But if Eren is so meek around Levi..." Hange argued back between chuckles.

The empty corridors of the former HQ made her shiver, quickly losing the warmth of the shower as they strolled. When the name of the new cadet in Levi's squad was dropped, Y/N couldn't help but grimace and bite her bottom lip to hold back a chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Hange asked.

"Nothing," she replied.

"Come on, just tell me!"

"Fine..." she relented, "but this stays between us."

"You know I can't promise that," Hange joked, indicating that juicy information wouldn't stay secret for long. "Just spit it out."

"I met Eren earlier today..." she began.

"Yeah, and?" Hange prompted.

Y/N's subtle, almost innocent blush didn't match her sassy chuckles. "He's hella cute."

Hange's loud gasp echoed in the empty hallways, prompting Y/N to hush them intensely. "You're a taken woman, Y/N!" the brunette argued, albeit without seriousness. "And... He's a kid. Have some decency, you creep."

"Hey!" Y/N quickly protested. "I never said I was going to sleep with him or something like that! Can't a girl admit when a boy is cute? I mean, did you see his eyes? He's going to be turning heads around here before you know it."

Hange chuckled, "If he survives..."

"What a depressing thought, Hange, for Sheena's sake," both continued walking. "Mark my words, he's going to be handsome and will have girls swooning over him."

"Including you?" Hange teased.

Y/N shook her head softly, regretting telling the squad leader about it. "I could teach him a thing or two," she joked back, earning a shallow laugh from her companion.

"Don't let Shorty hear you say that," Hange warned.

"I'm joking, I'm joking," she assured.

The heavy stone walls seemed to catch every little molecule of dust between the bricks as she swung the door open to the basement kitchen, probably designed to keep the cold temperature for food storage. Or perhaps it was an old castle, and the staff was secluded to the forgotten and unpleasant part of the architecture. Once inside, Petra and Eren were cutting potatoes while sitting on big, chipped wooden boxes.

"Hey," Y/N greeted, rubbing her arms over her clothes as the humidity and coldness of the place seemed to penetrate every piece of clothing. "The bathroom is free if you want to take a shower."

Y/N chuckled softly at her own words. "Well, 'shower' is a bold word for sitting down and throwing buckets of water on yourself," she clarified, jokingly.

Petra seemed to understand, smiled at Eren, and stood up to clean her hands before leaving. They were taking turns for showers, mostly because the former HQ lacked a water pumping system, so they had to fetch water early in the day. For showers, the water had to be warmed up by the stove and then carried to one of the rooms they had chosen as a bathroom. Neither room was ideal because of the wooden floors, but they made do.

She noticed the big, almost innocent eyes of the cadet looking up at her, both seemingly waiting for the other to make the next move. Eren continued with his task silently until she cleared her throat.

"So... have you taken a shower yet, Eren?"

"No, ma'am," Eren replied stiffly, making her scoff.

"You can call me Y/N," she said, taking a spot next to him on the box. "Here, let me help you, or we'll be having potatoes for dinner the day after tomorrow."

Her hands began to peel the potatoes with expertise. "You're good at this," he commented, looking down at his own pile and noticing a good part of the peel had taken the potato with it.

She chuckled, "Ugh, you know how many potatoes I peeled before I was promoted," she joked. "You're showering after dinner? Make sure to rinse the water out of your hair if you're going straight to bed; you might catch a cold otherwise."

Eren seemed surprised by the comment, or perhaps by the interaction overall. "Yes, ma'am," he replied with less self-assurance. "Captain Levi said the rest should go ahead, and then we'll go... I feel bad that he had to wait to take his turn because of me."

"You're showering with Levi?" she asked, entertained, cutting off a bit of the self-hate speech that the cadet was about to embark on. "You're not planning on stealing my man, are you?"

Oh, how quickly the blood rushed to his cheeks. It was priceless. "N-NO! I-I, no. I'll n-never," the poor boy began to stutter. She playfully patted his back while having a blast.

"Relax, Eren. I'm messing with you," she said between chuckles. "It's just a silly shower, sweetie. Levi goes to bed very late, so showering last doesn't affect him."

"But Oluo said–"

"Ohhh, please," she interrupted him again, rolling her eyes as she returned to her task of peeling potatoes. Momentarily pointing at him with the knife, as if to emphasize her point, she continued, "Do not listen to him. Oluo is like one of those very tiny little dogs. They bark and bark and may even bite more than a regular-sized dog, but they actually hold no power."

It was time for the cadet to have a short chuckle at her comparison. "Mr. Oluo isn't going to like that."

"Well, I'm higher in command than him so."

There was a brief calm silence as both of them continued to prepare dinner. "You're too nice to me, Squad Leader," Eren murmured, slightly ashamed. "The rest of Captain Levi's squad is nice too, but I can feel their fear..."

Y/N couldn't help but find it endearing, the little pout on his face. "Oh sweetie, I'm the one who brings the first paperwork of the day to Erwin, and sometimes I even have to wake him up. There's nothing you could do that could scare me after that," she said while reaching forward to pinch his right cheek while wrinkling her nose. "You're a cutie."

The side smile mixed with a not subtle blush that extended to his ears and the subtle shame in his eyes. Everything in his attitude screamed 'I'm not a girl or a kid, don't call me that.'

But that was exactly what he was in her eyes: a kid.

Clicking his tongue, cursing under his breath, he moved the shaking candle around, trying to find a good lighting spot against the old mirror while passing the razor close to his skin. The flame shook under the little insulation of the old rooms, and the humidity of the showers didn’t help as it rained little drops of condensation too close to it. Unlike Eren, who had finished showering and looked around ashamed, unsure how to even begin to dress up for bed without looking awkward (he could start by not standing still in the middle of the room), Levi seemed rather relaxed. Apparently, his only problem was shaving under that type of light.

The Captain looked over his shoulder, found the cadet looking as if he wished the earth could swallow him. “Come on, brat. We don’t have all night. Get dressed so I can take you to the basement,” Levi spoke up. “Don't be so tense. I cleaned the place myself.”

‘The cleanliness is not my problem,’ Eren thought to himself as he tried to carry on. But keeping the towel around his hips while trying to put clothes on that stuck to his humid body, nothing was going according to plan.

“I bet you shared showers in worse conditions at the training camps,” Levi kept his usual stoic face as he cleaned the residues of shaving cream from his face and carried on unaffected by the situation.

But Eren couldn’t unglue his eyes as soon as he noticed them. Yes, them. The red striking scratches down the back of his superior. Well-marked, five on each side decorating his shoulder blades. Eren swore he was trying not to pay them any mind, trying to remember to breathe or even to stop the saliva as his mouth hung open looking at them.

Levi mentioning the shared showers at the training camps didn't help. Because all he could hear repeating endlessly in his mind were the stupid conversations Reiner and Jean would have about the hypothetical chicks they were planning to lay with. How they throw their heads back as they moan your name. Their nails sinking in your back as you pounded into them.

‘Think of something else, Eren. Think of something else,’

“S-sorry,” he stuttered out a reply as the object he was picking up slipped from his clumsy hands, gathering his superior's attention, who was now staring at him as he kneeled to pick it up with his face as red as a tomato and nervous eyes.

Levi raised a silent eyebrow for a split second before slightly shaking his head, not giving it much thought. ‘Teenagers,’ he thought to himself while sighing.

Eren wished he could stop his own mind because it wasn’t just Reiner’s voice playing in his head but the created mental images of what he thought, in his inexperience, it looked like: his superior—no—his hero, fucking the sweet, caring woman who had just been peeling potatoes with him. Her hands that pinching his cheeks, sinking its nails into his squad leader’s back while moaning his name. Wrinkling his eyes closed, trying to erase the mental images as he could feel the blood pumping. ‘You’re not planning on stealing my man, are you?’ her voice echoing in the walls of his head, pumped lips and sultry eyes as she looked back at him playfully.

‘Think of something else!’

“What could you probably be thinking of?” Levi’s voice echoed as his worst nightmare. Had he said that out loud? This time Levi had turned around to face him, left hand resting on the sink as he had his trousers on but hanging loosely on his hips as he was halfway getting dressed. He didn’t seem friendly, and his dead glance demanded an explanation.

“Ehm- I,” Eren began to stutter, trying to find a logical explanation. His mind was racing miles per hour, how to explain. He was peeling potatoes, she made a joke, now he knows they are dating, Levi had his back scratched by her. She, her nails, her joke, her pretty lips—

“Y-Y/N,”

Ah- He shouldn’t have said that, but it was the first word that came to his mind.

“What?” Levi’s voice seemed to source from hell itself.

Heavy steps again on the floor, as he rushed back to his room. “Oi, where are you going so angry, shorty?” Hange rested against the wood frame while drinking a cup of tea. They had heavy under-eye circles and despite the dose of caffeine from their drinks, they seemed very lethargic.

“Tch, to talk to my girlfriend about not messing around with my subordinates,” Levi had a heavy frown on his face as his hair still leaked little drops of water. “I just had the most uncomfortable conversation with Eren,” Levi said between clenched teeth, barely modulating.

Hange chuckled while raising an eyebrow, blinking a couple of times. “Y/N told you she thinks Eren is a cutie? I’m surprised...”

Levi, who had never stopped facing down the hall to his room, not even when he began his conversation with the other squad leader, slowly turned around to face the brunette as he heard that with a clearly confused face that turned into a frown as the information sank in. “What?” he spat out.

Hange began to chuckle as they feared that they had misunderstood, “Ha ha... didn’t you say you had an uncomfortable conversation about Eren?”

“Clean up your filthy ears or go to sleep already, four eyes,” the captain said calmly before clarifying, “I said a fucking uncomfortable conversation WITH Eren.”

“Now, tell me what the hell you meant by that and make it quick because I already stood in a leaky bathroom for easily half an hour hearing Eren stutter apologize after he said my girlfriend’s name with a fucking hard on.”

Observing out of the window as she admired how calm the deep forest was at the former HQ. It was rather cold, but she had only her nightgown on, a sheer translucent piece of cloth. The door of the room swung open, revealing an extremely angry Levi. He shut his door close and walked up to her.

“What's gotten into you?” She questioned, confused. But before she could even reply, he was grabbing her face, pressing her cheeks together, and slightly raising her face to have it inches away from his.

“You’ve forgotten your manners. I’ve been too soft with you,” Levi groaned, “First of all, you don’t go around playing cheeky with my subordinates.”

She could feel the tug from his grip, pressing her closer as her hands touched his arm. Breathing heavily, humming a moan at his words. “Second, you truly think you could have a brat like him when I can already tell you’re dropping with the idea of me teaching you your place again?”

“Lev-”

“Your next words should be ‘Yes, sir’ if you know what's good for you,” he let go of her face just to slap her ass, “Go to bed and ass up, baby girl.”

She moved excitedly in the direction he indicated but turned around as she bit her bottom lip, watching as he grabbed a belt from his uniform, “and that?” she asked curiously.

“To make sure I’m the only one who leaves marks behind.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

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roosterforme · 4 months

Text

Smarter Than the Average Beer Boy | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: After months of attending your lectures, Bradley has honed his math skills beyond his wildest expectations. A night out with the boys reveals just how smart and endearing your husband really is, even when he has a hangover.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, drinking, oral sex, shirtless Beer Boy, 18+

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

Happy birthday to @cherrycola27!

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Banner by @thedroneranger Check out my masterlist

You were on your way to teach your last class of the day, and it was your least favorite one. When the class schedules were being organized for next semester, you planned on begging Dr. Rosenthal to let you trade this awful linear algebra class away for one of his calculus lectures. Because at least calculus was something to which you could add a little spice to keep your students interested, unlike this one.

Even though you already ate the snack your husband packed in your tie dye lunchbox, you were still hungry. You'd have to remind him to pack you something extra next Thursday. But as you were on your way to the lounge to quickly get something from the vending machine, you heard his voice.

"Sugar."

You spun around in your loafers and tweed skirt and saw your husband in full khaki uniform heading your way. "Beer Boy. What are you doing here?" you asked, giving up on the idea of a snack and heading in his direction instead. "I'm about to give a lecture."

"I know," he said with a smirk, voice all deep and raspy. "I got dismissed early, and I stopped at home to get you a snack. Thought maybe I could join your lecture tonight since I won't get to spend tomorrow evening with you."

You almost dropped your notebook as you wrapped your arms around his waist and propped your chin on his chest. "Are you my snack?" you asked as he leaned down to kiss you.

"Nor exactly," he laughed, holding up two small containers. "I brought you some homemade hummus and pita chips. But if you want to skip your lecture and head up to your office, I'd be more than happy to fuck you while I feed you."

"Tempting," you told him with a moan. He was always so sure of himself when he was with you, and it was a massive turn on. But when he grinned and started pulling you toward the elevators, you had to dig your loafers in. "I can't let my students down," you said with a little pout. "Come on. You can sit in the back and take notes."

"Nah. I'll just watch my hot wife in action. Take some mental notes that I can think about at the bachelor party tomorrow night."

You rolled your eyes as you took the containers from him. "You'll have so much fun with Jake and the boys, you won't even be thinking about me at all."

"Newsflash, Dr. Sugar," he whispered as you entered the lecture hall with his hand on your butt. "I'm always thinking about you."

-----------------------

Yes, it was fun watching you work. Your lectures were informative, and you were very passionate about the subject. You were also gorgeous, and Bradley wouldn't mind watching you do this all day long. And sure, he loved that you wrote a few problems on the board for your students to work through so you could eat the hummus and pita chips he brought. And yeah, he squirmed a bit in his seat when you winked at him from the podium as you licked your fingertip.

But the really interesting thing was the fact that Bradley was getting pretty fucking good at math now. If he could go back to undergrad studies, he might even choose it as his major instead of political science. Nobody ever really encouraged him to show off his smarts after his mom died. Well, besides you. There was something about the way you always recognized that he was intelligent that made him fall even harder for you. And since he knew what it felt like to live without you for ten years, he didn't mind watching you teach the same classes over and over. He just wanted to be around you.

When you asked if there were any volunteers to work through the problem, Bradley was able to follow every detail and come up with the correct answer from his seat. And when you finally ended the class, he went up to the front of the room and kissed your cheek right in front of the straggling students. "Any chance you can bring one of the homework sheets home for me to work on later this weekend?" he asked, stealing your last pita chip.

You looked up at him with adoring eyes, and it wasn't fair, because you knew what those little tweed skirts did to him. "You're really going to work on a problem set?"

"Yeah," he told you with a shrug. "Why not? This class was fun, and maybe you can check my answers and reward me?" he asked hopefully.

"If you want to be my top student, you better get them all correct." You ran your fingers along the front of his khakis as you picked up your notebook and started walking away.

"I'll be so good, Baby," he promised as he followed you out. He was planning on working on the problems on Sunday after he spent all day Saturday recovering from Jake's bachelor party. Tomorrow night was for the boys, but tonight he would be spending with you.

When he got you home, he boiled a pot of water for some of the homemade pasta he made and dried last weekend, and he started heating up some of his homemade sauce and meatballs. "This is so fucking sexy," you whispered, rubbing up on him in your tweed while you sipped a beer. "You are really good at feeding me."

He stole the bottle and drank some. "You're really good at everything else." When he tried to hand it back, you just shook your head and dropped slowly to your knees. He was already a little hard from all the tweed rubbing, but then you kissed his zipper, and his dick responded immediately. "Look at that. I didn't even have to do the math problems."

You grinned up at him while he sipped the beer. "Maybe this is just a little reminder for you to be good tomorrow night when you're out with the boys. No drinking and driving. No letting them get into fights. No playing beer pong without me. If you're good, then there's more where this came from."

Bradley was really enjoying the cold beer as you undid his belt and button before you eased his zipper down. "I'll be so good. I'm a hundred percent domesticated."

You moaned as his cock sprang free, and you rubbed your face against him. "I know." He was about to tell you he'd been that way since the two of you were college seniors, but suddenly all coherent thoughts left his brain. You were gently kissing his balls as you ran your fingers up underneath his shirt and teased his abs. "You're a very good boy."

His cock was throbbing and tapping you on the cheek as your tongue flicked out to taste him. "Sugar," he grunted before sipping the beer again.

"Hmm." You were looking up at him as your lips barely met his skin. "What should I do with you?" Somehow you were making Bradley feel submissive even though you were on your knees for him, and he tipped his head back and groaned.

"Fuck me up, Sugar."

"Gladly," you replied, and he felt your tongue draw a slow and steady line from his tight balls all the way to the head of his cock. Bradley watched as you took the very tip of his bouncing length between your pretty lips. All you did was hold eye contact as you sucked on him like he was a piece of candy, your fingers tickling the trail of hair below his belly button, and he was mesmerized.

"Those pouty lips will be the death of me," he whispered before sipping the beer again. "So fucking pretty." You sucked on him a little harder, and he clenched. Damn, you hadn't even taken him deep yet, and he was already eager. But he didn't care, because you already knew what you did to him.

Then you popped him free, rubbed your nose against his trimmed pubes before kissing his tip and said, "I love you." Then you grabbed him by the hips and let him slide all the way so he was tapping the back of your throat.

"Oh, fuck," he grunted, already thinking about you gagging on his cum. You shook your head slightly when he was deep, and tears filled your eyes as you sucked. Bradley gripped the bottle, his voice only a harsh whisper as he said, "That's it. That's it. Fuck."

A few more deep thrusts had you struggling, which was honestly so fucking hot to him. You were making desperate little sounds, but you bobbed on him until you gagged. And that's really all it took.

You moaned as he filled your mouth, and he ran his thumb along your cheek as you gently sucked every drop from him. "Show it to me," he whispered softly and you smiled as you released him. Slowly, you parted your lips and tilted your face up for him, showing off your cupped tongue full of his cum. "Beautiful."

Then you swallowed him down and kissed his drained balls once more before you stood and took the beer bottle from his hand. Casually, you took a sip like you didn't just leave him twitching before you. "Is dinner almost ready?"

He was still thinking about it the next night when he was out with all the guys. Jake was marrying Jessica in a month, and all he asked for was a night of bar hopping. Normally Bradley would have been very good at this, but he was thinking about the way he'd fed you bites of pasta while standing in the kitchen as you moaned over how delicious it was.

"Come on, Rooster, have a shot," Payback said, passing him some tequila. Just a few drinks would help him focus on the night with the guys. "Bottoms up."

But at first, the drinks just made him think about calling you to see what you were up to. Jessica was supposed to stop by the house to hang out for a while, and he wondered if she was still there. Maybe she left and you were already changed into his Grateful Dead shirt for bed. Maybe he could just get an Uber right now and go home and find out for himself. He'd slip right into bed next to you.

"Time for the karaoke bar!" Javy announced, and then Bradley had more shots in front of him before he ended up onstage, and he couldn't be sure where his shirt went, but oh well, it didn't really matter since his favorite shirt was at home with you, and it was suddenly time to sing.

But he did remember to text you and let you know he'd be home very late.

-------------------------

Having the empty house to yourself felt a bit like it did when Bradley was deployed. So in that respect, it made you a little antsy. But on the other hand, it was peaceful when you had Jessica over for some snacks and a glass of wine. It was close to midnight when a bunch of photos came through to your phone and hers.

"Oh no," she groaned as you scrolled through the images from Mickey. It appeared as though Bradley lost his shirt. Typical.

"They are a mess," you muttered, finally getting to one where the guys were physically holding Jake up. "You're going to have your work cut out for you tomorrow."

She shook her head but laughed. "I think I'll head home and wait for him. I don't know if he'll even be able to make it from the front door to the bedroom without help."

"Bradley doesn't look much better," you added as you got to the last photo where he was chugging a beer, the amber liquid dribbling down his neck and bare chest. "Oh Lord."

"Call me tomorrow and let me know how bad it is?"

"Yeah," you agreed, walking her to the door and giving her a hug.

And then you were met with silence again. You changed into Bradley's tie dye shirt and his robe that he'd had since college, but you weren't even slightly tired now. You glanced across the hallway to your office door covered in your own handwriting.

SUGAR LOVES BEER BOY

Working through an advanced calculus problem before bed would definitely help you unwind. You walked to your white board while you looked up a problem on your phone and then scribbled it down and got to work. Oh, this one was a bit tricky with lots of side math to complete first. The squeak of your marker was soothing, and by the time you got to your tenth line in the proof solution, you were yawning.

"Works like a charm," you muttered, capping the marker and heading back across the hall where you climbed into bed.

At one point during the night, you thought you heard Bradley stumble in the front door. "Beer Boy?" you called out, rolling over in bed.

You heard him slur, "It's just me, Sugar," followed by the sound of the refrigerator opening up. He'd come to bed eventually after he got a snack. You scooted back all the way to your side, preemptively trying to avoid him being a sticky, sweaty mess. You smiled and curled up, and you were back to sleep in seconds.

But he never did come to bed, as evidenced by the still crisp bedding on his side when you woke up again at nine. You stretched and climbed out from the pocket of warmth and reached for his robe before you went to search the house.

You started in the kitchen, thinking that being near the refrigerator might have been more appealing than the bed, but he wasn't there. You glanced out back and on the living room couch, but you didn't see him anywhere.

"Bradley?" you called out as you looked in the bathroom, but he hadn't even fallen asleep in the tub. You pressed your lips together as you poked your head inside your office and gasped. "Seriously?"

He was sound asleep on the floor, his shirt nowhere to be seen, and he was snoring loudly. An empty ice cream carton and spoon were next to his head, and it looked like he'd eaten a value sized bag of pretzels. There were a few more wrappers and a lot of crumbs on the floor, and you just gaped at him as he started to roll onto his side and look around.

"What the fuck? Why is it such a mess in here? I just cleaned on Wednesday," he groaned, hair sticking up at every angle. He tilted his head and looked up at you through squinted eyes. "What happened?"

You gave him an incredulous look. "Why don't you tell me?"

He continued to look around the room as he sat up. "I don't know," he replied, pushing the pretzel bag to the side as he cradled his forehead in his palm. "Last thing I remember is the guys making me sing Caress Me Down for karaoke. Where's my shirt?"

Your deep sigh should have been warning enough for him, but he looked down at his abs, shocked that he was only wearing half of his outfit. "Once again, Bradley, why don't you tell me?"

"Baby, how am I supposed to know?" he whined. "God, now I have a fucking hangover, and I can't think."

If Jake was also this bad at the moment, then Jessica might need a reassuring phone call later. Hopefully he hadn't destroyed the carpet in their condo. You needed to get Bradley into the shower and then put him in bed so you could clean up the floor, but your eyes caught on your white board, and you gasped. "Bradley."

"What now?" he moaned as he got to his hands and knees in the crumbs. "My head is throbbing."

Your eyes skimmed from the top of the board to the very bottom, and you started laughing. He was looking up at you, confusion swirling along his handsome features as you had to brace your hands on your knees while you gasped for air and cackled. "Beer Boy!"

"Okay, yes," he grunted. "I'm beginning to think I was actually the one who made the mess in here, but I'll clean it up. It's not that funny."

"Bradley!" you screeched, pointing to the board. "You solved my advanced calculus problem!"

Slowly and seemingly painfully, he turned his head to look and crawled closer to the wall. "I don't think so," he muttered. "I don't even know what all of that means." He was standing on his knees, and trying so hard to figure it out. "Holy shit, that's my handwriting."

"It definitely is," you said through your laughter as you gently combed your fingers through his messy hair. He practically melted against your leg with his big hand on your thigh below his robe. "I am... somehow really impressed by this? You got drunk, got a ride home at four in the morning, and then you solved an advanced math problem before you passed out on my office floor."

"Yeah, I'm impressive as hell," he whispered, kissing you through the robe fabric.

"You know... if you weren't so terribly hungover, I'd offer to blow you again like yesterday. Because this is something only my very best student would be able to do. And I love rewarding my best student."

You stroked his cheek softly with your knuckles as he stared up at you with parted lips. "Professor Sugar," he rasped. "I'm totally fine. Barely hungover at all."

"Are you sure?" you laughed. "You look a little rough. And you made a huge mess."

"Yeah," he replied immediately. "I'm great. Wanna join me in the shower?"

You bent to kiss his forehead and whispered, "If you think you can handle it."

"Hell yes," he groaned, trying three times before he was able to get to his feet. Then he took you by the hand, and you helped him down the hallway to the bathroom.

You pointed out the small closet on the way. "And when we're done, the vacuum cleaner is just hanging out right in there, waiting for you to clean up my office."

"Yeah, okay."

------------------------

Happy birthday, Nik! When you mentioned this idea, it had me cracking up. I hope you enjoy it as a birthday gift one day early! Thanks @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

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stellarbit · 3 months

Text

Shifting Loyalties

No warnings. 2.3k words

You're a dropout Jedi who left with Echo to join the Bad Batch. You and The Batch are assigned to work with the 501st. The Batch get a bit spicy about how friendly you are with the regs.

Inspired by physical touch by @queenariesofnarnia :') it's perfect

First attempt at the boys but bro I had so much fun with this. I'm definitely going to be doin more cause it gave me ideas for days. Enjoyyyyy

The Marauder's landing ramp wasn't halfway extended, and your foot tapped with anticipation. Spotting the 501st squadron as you descended, they stood in a group, not in formation, eagerly awaiting your arrival. Working with the Bad Batch was a thrill, but you couldn't deny missing your first squad.

When Echo departed, Hunter extended you the same offer to join the Bad Batch. As a Jedi dropout, you no longer belonged on Coruscant or in the Order. Your path diverged, but that didn't mean you didn't occasionally yearn for your old teammates.

Before it was fully safe to exit, you hurled yourself out of the ship, dashing toward the awaiting clones. The Batch were momentarily stunned; even Tech tore his eyes away from his datapad at your sudden outburst.

"Shorty!" Fives exclaimed as you barrelled into his arms, spinning you around before settling you among your old squad.

"Shorty?" Crosshair sneered, visibly annoyed by what he was seeing. You darted between the regs, embracing each one, sometimes two at a time.

You meshed well with the Batch, but they weren't the touchy-feely type. Consequently, you lacked the courage to breach physical boundaries, especially considering how often you seemed to get under their skin. After your fallout with the Order, you couldn't risk facing any more rejection.

As the Batch followed after you, Wrecker swiveled his head toward his brothers, clearly confused. "Wha- what's going on?" He scratched his head, gesturing in your direction. "What's all that about?" He referred to your playful antics with the group of regs, laughing and roughhousing like a child.

You weren't cold toward them; in fact, you engaged in comfortable teasing. However, you maintained a professional distance, refraining from physical contact, let alone running into their arms.

Echo shrugged, a smile playing on his lips as he reminisced about his former life. "She's just saying hi," he explained. "She served with the 501st for a long time, even before I was taken to Skako Minor." Nostalgia washed over him at the sight of you standing with his 501st brothers - just like old times.

Hunter blinked in astonishment. "That's normal for her?" He had never witnessed you so carefree and jovial before.

Tech tucked his datapad away, adjusting his goggles as he observed the scene. "By their reactions, this doesn't seem abnormal for her. Why this is the first time we're witnessing it, I'm uncertain." He turned to Echo. "Have you seen this behavior before?"

"Sure, but you're all overthinking it," Echo replied, realizing the tension building among his brothers. "She's just comfortable with them." He regretted the last sentence immediately, sensing their egos regarding regular clones turning this joyful reunion into an unspoken competition.

"If she's so comfortable with them," Crosshair spat, "Maybe she should go back to her precious regs." It was exactly the response Echo feared.

The group watched as you responded to Jesse's teasing with a flirtatious elbow, then stumbled slightly into Rex, who steadied you with a hand on your shoulder.

"It's good to see you. Keeping Echo out of trouble?" Rex smiled down at you, then glanced at Echo standing among the Batch. His smile faded upon noticing Clone Force 99 in various stages of glowering. He patted your shoulder. "Uh… why don't you find General Skywalker while I brief the rest of your squad?"

Without a glance back at the Batch, you followed the order. Anakin briefed you on the mission before easing into conversation. "How are you holding up?" He leaned against a crate of supplies.

"It was hard at first, but I feel…" You paused, feeling a warmth spreading over your chest, grateful it rarely reached your cheeks. "At home with the Batch." You couldn't suppress the smile the thought of the Batch brought you. They made your life exciting, and you felt safe fighting alongside them.

Anakin hadn't missed the looks Clone Force 99 threw your way, especially the nastier ones aimed at the clones you hugged. "I'm glad to hear that, Short Stuff." When Hunter and Wrecker glanced over at the two of you with something like disdain, Anakin smirked. Oh, this is too easy. He leaned down just enough so that your face eclipsed his, just out of sight of the Batchers. "Though, it looks like your new crew isn't too happy with you."

You jerked back, incredulous. "Excuse me?" By the time you whipped around, the Batch were already to the Marauder. Everything seemed normal. You shoved Anakin back. "Kriff off, Skywalker."

Anakin raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Anyway, it looks like it's time for you to rejoin your squad. Good luck."

"Pfft, good luck?" You pulled a face and cracked your neck. "I don't need luck on missions." You may have missed the Jedi General, but you did not miss his arrogant humor.

Anakin smirked as you headed back out and out of earshot. "It wasn't for the mission."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inside the ship, the atmosphere shifted when you returned. Hunter, Wrecker, Crosshair, Tech, and Echo were scattered about on various tasks, their sudden silence and exchanged glances going unnoticed by you as you busied yourself with pulling out sleeping supplies. There was no way you were missing a chance to sleep off the ship.

Sat cleaning his gun, Crosshair’s eyes bore into your back. It didn’t take Hunter’s senses for you to feel his glare. Still packing, you said over your shoulder, “What is it, Crosshair?”

“Oh, nothing,” Crosshair sneered, leaning forward. “Just didn’t realize you missed your regs so much.”

“And why wouldn’t I miss them?” You snorted, not realizing that earned you an even nastier look from the white-haired clone. “Some people have friends, Crosshair. What’s wrong with that?”

Raising an eyebrow, you turned to face him, a smirk playing on your lips. "And what's wrong with that? Some of us actually have friends, you know."

Tech, engrossed in a control panel, interjected, "He's not questioning your friendships. He's just pointing out the obvious preference you seem to have for your old squadmates."

Your hands stilled, and you turned to face them, sensing an underlying tension in the air. "What's going on here?"

Wrecker shuffled awkwardly, his expression troubled. "We just thought you were happier with us."

"I am happy!" you exclaimed. "But it's natural to be excited to see old friends, isn't it?"

When Wrecker’s defeated look didn’t change you looked to Hunter, the sensible brother, for relief. Instead, he had his arms crossed and eyes fixed away from you.

They can’t be serious. You started to turn to Echo when Crosshair abruptly got up, setting his gun aside, and loomed over you within a second.

“Don’t look at Echo to save you,” Crosshair growled, his voice low and menacing. As Crosshair rose from his seat, his eyes narrowed at you. "You seem a little too cozy with them for just 'old friends.'" You tried to step away, but found yourself backed against the counter behind you.

“Cross,” Hunter warned, but his brother didn’t heed the caution, slamming a hand on the shelf a few inches from your face.

The close proximity allowed you to catch Crosshair's scent—gun oil and mint—a combination you'd never been so close to before. It left you breathless, barely able to formulate a response. Crosshair raked his eyes over you as he idly lolled a toothpick around his mouth. He leaned in close. “Why so shy now, Shorty?” he taunted, his voice dropping even lower.

Despite the shiver you felt at the nickname rolling off Crosshair’s tongue, ignored the jibe. “What’s your problem with ‘Shorty’?” you bit back, unwilling to back down.

Tech swiftly wedged himself between you and Crosshair, his tone firm but diplomatic. "Let's not act like children here." Placing a hand on your chest and the other on Crosshair's shoulder, he continued, "Although 'Shorty' might not be the most accurate nickname. If you prefer something else-"

His voice trailed off as he noticed the flush creeping up your chest and spreading to your cheeks and ears. Tech's wide eyes darted between your face and his hand, realizing the unintended intimacy of his touch. "Oh," he stammered, but didn’t pull back his hand. "I-I apologize."

Feeling the weight of their collective stares, you squirmed uncomfortably, yearning for some space to breathe. Tech's touch, coupled with Crosshair's taunting sent a flurry of conflicting emotions coursing through you, rendering you speechless. It seemed like every part of you was reacting, including that one lower part that seemed to have a mind of its own.

Before the tension could escalate further, Echo chimed in with an observation. "Well, I've never seen that before."

Returning to reality, you brushed Tech's hand away and swiftly grabbed your sleeping gear, attempting to regain your composure. "You're all acting like a bunch of-"

"It looks like our sarad is finally blossoming," Crosshair mocked, his voice laced with amusement.

Unable to take another word from him, you shoved past Tech to lunge on Crosshair, whose scowl was now a shit eating smirk. “I’ll wipe that smug-”

Hunter jumped in to hold you back. “Back off, Cross.” You were still grabbing for Crosshair when Hunter’s firm grip on your waist registered with you. You stiffened as Hunter detangled your arms from his shoulder and pulled you aside. He turned to you and surprised you by gently cupped your cheek. “Listen, we’re not trying to upset you.”

You were too aware of all the places your bodies had just touched - where his hands had been. It was all too much and with his hand on your face you simply couldn’t move.

The unexpected closeness and the warmth of his touch left you momentarily stunned, struggling to process the flood of sensations. With an effort to maintain your composure, you pulled away from Hunter's touch, grabbing your gear tightly. But before you could make your escape, Wrecker wrapped you in his arms and wrung you off your feet. “Aw, don’t be mad, we were just worried!” All you could focus on was the size of his hands and how nice his arms felt. When he dropped you, you just stood hunched over with a death grip on your sleeping pack.

The way you just stood at the mouth of the ship wide eyed and huffing, you probably looked like a deranged blurg. You felt deranged. In mere minutes you’d gone from composed to weak kneed simply from a few touches and teases. Being the center of their attention in those minutes had lit something in you that was quickly getting out of control. You still couldn’t manage words when you took off down the Marauder’s ramp.

At once Hunter, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Tech looked back at Echo. Echo echoed the collective astonishment, his tone tinged with bewilderment. "I've never seen her act like that before."

Tech, ever the analyzer, observed the physical signs of your distress with keen interest. He looked down at the hand he'd placed on your chest. "Her heart rate and temperature were elevated," he noted, his analytical nature kicking in. "Her coloring was..." He paused, searching for the right word, "...unexpectedly vibrant." Tech was quick to record his observations, whether mentally or digitally, finding your behavior to be a fascinating new discovery.

"Intriguing," Tech mused, adjusting his glasses with a confident shrug. "Her conduct with us doesn't align with her interactions with her former squadron. This divergence suggests a remarkably positive correlation." His conclusion was delivered with a note of excitement, indicative of his realization of the significance of your reaction. "And I am seldom wrong."

Each member of the Bad Batch absorbed Tech's assessment in their own way, contemplating the implications of your behavior.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When it was time to part ways with the 501st, you made your good-byes. The Batch weren’t much for good-byes, aside from Echo giving an extra farewell to Rex, they watched on from the mouth of the Marauder. You didn’t know when, or if, you’d see them again so you were saying good-bye to each clone.

Jesse sauntered over to the Batch as you engaged in one last round of roughhousing with Fives. He glanced at you, then at the Batch. An obvious jab that didn't fail to elicit a snarl from Crosshair. “Looks like she's clinging to her ‘regs’ a bit too tightly,” he remarked, his tone laced with thinly veiled mockery. Crosshair's lip curled in response, a silent warning brewing beneath his steely exterior. “Maybe it's time she remembers where she belongs.”

“Ay! Sarad!” Wrecker’s voice boomed out suddenly, your head immediately snapping to attention. “You comin’ or what?”

Tech, with a slight adjustment to his goggles, couldn't help but notice the telltale signs of your embarrassment—the faint flush creeping up your cheeks, the nervous smile that flickered across your lips. It was a sight that stirred something in his usually analytical mind. “Looks like she's right where she belongs,” he remarked softly, a rare hint of sentimentality in his tone.

Jesse let out a huff of resignation. “I suppose so. Just make sure you take care of her,” he muttered before slipping away.

As Wrecker slung his arm around your shoulders, nearly toppling you over, you hesitated for a moment. But instead of pulling away, you returned the gesture with a small hip bump, a silent olive branch. This is really going to take some getting used to.

Hunter, helmet tucked under his arm, stepped forward. “If you ever decide you want to go back to the 501st... we'd understand,” he offered, his tone tinged with sincerity.

You shook your head with a laugh, stepping out of Wrecker’s embrace. Playfully knocking an elbow into Hunter’s side, you grinned. “You think I’d trade you guys for the 501st? Not a chance,” you replied, your words carrying a hint of affection.

“Oh, spare us the sentimentality,” Crosshair interjected dryly, though the faint twitch of his lip betrayed a hint of amusement.

As you stood among the Batch, you laughed to yourself. This is going to be fun.

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oukabarsburgblr · 25 days

Text

drabble...

FEATURING: AITO SOUSUKE (OC), DAISUKE YUICHI (OC) x male reader

After a particularly frustrating match, (m/n) sat on the bench, his head low and eyes furiously glaring at gym floor. Sousuke staring from a distance, his eyes wandered to his teammates before stepping over to his captain.

(m/n) was still fixated in his thoughts, emotions swirling behind those blank (e/c) and he was pulled back into reality seeing a pair of neon red gym shoes coming into his peripheral vision.

"…do you need something, Sousuke?"

"…"

Sousuke didnt say anything, his own hazel eyes still lingering on the mop of (h/c), more than a second before his hand reached out to lay on (m/n)'s head.

The (h/c)'s breath paused before he tried to look up but Sousuke's rigid hand pushed down, countering his movement. "It's okay." Sousuke whispered. "…you don't…" The ace tried saying something. Something comforting.

But Aito Sousuke was never good at words. He could only act. And he was frustrated at himself because right now maybe (m/n) needed words to soothe his storming thoughts. Daisuke was better at him than this. But he didn't care about Daisuke right now. He cared about (m/n).

(m/n) didnt say anything, opting to stare at the neon red that reflected off of the gym lights. His lips pressed into a tight line and a pathetic whimper escaped his throat.

His hands went to grip his own face, a brew of frustration came out from his chest in the form of angry tears as it slipped down on his lower lashes. "Fuck…" (m/n) cursed, not expecting his composure to crack.

Sousuke hands moved to rub (m/n)'s head, playing with his hair in an attempt to soothe the (h/c) as he moved closer to the captain, standing straight in front of the sitting former. "I…I'm sorry." He knew the (h/c) was embarassed to cry in front of people, always hiding away his feelings to his own, pummelling it all in his stomach like the world was disgused to see him cry. To see him feel like a normal human being.

Sousuke wouldn't. He would accept all the good and bad (m/n) had to offer. He thought his captain was beautiful in every way.

(m/n)'s hand went to grip the ace's jersey, his hand trembling as he leaned his head on Sousuke's torso, frustratingly wiping away more of his tears as more streaked down his (s/c) cheeks.

Sousuke's hand hesitated, but went forward anyways, rubbing the (h/c)'s back with minimal pressure. In an instant, (m/n) hugged the redhead with both of his hands, sobbing into the ace's jersey, wetting it more with his tears and sweat.

At this point, they had garnered looks. One of the juniors, Nakamura Jurou, staring at his captain with a pained expression. "(m/n)-san…" Sousuke didn't look back, caring and focusing on his beloved captain.

Haru stared at the two. His eyes wide as his lips trembled. He always knew there was something wrong. Something (m/n) wouldn't tell. They were such a close pair but (m/n) would shy away no matter how much he prodded.

Daisuke, the vice captain, stepped into the gym, his eyes fixated on the clipboard he went to retrieve. "(m/n)-!" He was about to call out for his captain but Haru stopped him. His own blue eyes gazed at Haru confused before he looked to where the middle blocker was looking.

A word didn't escape his lips. His eyes taking in the sight of his crush weeping in the arms of Sousuke, someone he hated but tolerated. He didn't hesitate to step forward, towards the pair as he kneeled beside the (h/c). Haru followed suit, his anxiousness escaping him as he offered a hand of comfort to his closest friends.

The juniors trickled in, asking questions of concern as they all attempted to soothe their beloved captain. The (h/c) only muttering apologies and hiccups while still harshly wiping away his tears.

Daisuke stopped his hand as he gently swiped his thumb on his puffy cheek. "We're here for you, (m/n)." The vice captain peered, in an attempt to look at his beloved's face and was met with bloodshot eyes with furrowing eyebrows. (m/n) only nodded as he pulled away from Sousuke's body as he groaned before he was bombarded by his teammates who was worried for their beloved captain, including Haru.

The ravenette turned his head to Sousuke, glaring at him. The latter locked eyes with a nonchalant stare. (m/n) who was still being comforted by his first years, rolled his eyes seeing the pair, wiping his wet cheeks.

[END SCENE]

Afterthoughts:

I made this a while back, before I made this account, before I wrote any of the ocs aus. I've been spiraling for the past few days and it felt right to post this. I have a lot of ideas for my fics, most of them I never got to finish and i'm sad about that. I think I'll just post the summary. Please take care of yourself and reach out to a close one for anything...

#oukabarsburg #aito sousuke #x male reader #male reader #oc x male reader #daisuke yuichi

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harunayuuka2060 · 4 months

Text

MC's sister: *has trouble breathing and couldn't move a single muscle*

MC: Are you feeling any discomfort? *holding the sleeping Liora in their arms*

MC's father and brother: ...

MC's father: MC... Please stop this. I'm certain your sister didn't know-

MC: Of course. Since you raised her to be an idiot.

MC's father: ...

MC: Father, you must let me punish her.

MC: Because if not, then I will let the Kingscholars take care of her.

MC: And you know what will happen after that.

MC's brother: Fair enough.

MC's brother: Let's go, father.

MC's father: But-

MC's brother: They will let her live. Don't worry.

MC's father: ...Very well.

*The two of them left the room*

MC: ...

MC's sister: ...

MC: How lucky you are that Liora is a transcendental like me.

MC: If he wasn't and ended up being killed for your foolish act,

MC: I would break the promise I made to your mother and destroy your heart.

MC: Which I created myself.

MC's sister: *has an expression of fear*

MC: Don't do anything like this again. Are we clear?

MC's sister: *puts every bit of her strength to nod*

MC: Good.

Falena's wife: You must be feeling awful.

MC's former attendant: My apologies, master... I should've been more careful... *in tears*

MC: It's alright. I was careless myself.

Falena's wife: ...

Falena's wife: *could tell that they're still furious*

Falena's wife: Should we call Leona?

MC: ...

MC: Yes.

Falena's wife: *smiles*

Leona: *hugs MC*

MC: I didn't ask you to hug me.

Leona: You're angry. You need one.

MC: ...

MC: It's obvious that you have never been affectionate towards anyone, Leona.

Leona: I know, I know. It's my first time and I'm still learning.

MC: ...

MC: *hugs him back*

Leona: *rubs their back to comfort them*

MC: I have never been scared, Leona. *gripping the back of his shirt*

Leona: ...

MC: *who had never cried in their life, is now in tears*

Leona: *tightens the hug*

Leona: ...

MC's sister: I'm really sorry... I-I didn't know what I was thinking that time...

Leona: ...

Leona: Oh. So you're calling it an 'Oops' situation?

Leona: Lady! You tried to endanger my son's life!

MC's sister: *crying* I am really sorry...

Leona: ...

Leona: MC might've already punished you, but as Liora's father, I won't turn a blind eye to this.

Leona: *stood up from his seat* After leaving this place today, you will no longer hold noble status, and I prohibit you from entering the Royal Palace or coming anywhere near my son and my spouse.

Leona: If you choose to defy me, I will not hesitate to reduce you to nothing but sand.

Leona: *is on his way back to MC when he receives a call from Kalim*

Leona: *answers it* Hello-

Kalim: *crying* LEONAAA!!! IS IT TRUE SOMETHING ALMOST HAPPENED TO LIORA?!!

Jamil: *in the background* Calm down, Kalim.

Leona: *sigh* Yes. How did you know?

Kalim: Ruggie told us! *sniffles* How could anyone do that to a precious baby?!

Leona: ...

Leona: Kalim.

Kalim: Yeah? *sniffles*

Leona: You should pay us a visit. MC will appreciate having support from their friends right now.

Kalim: O-Of course! Jamil and I will be there first thing tomorrow morning!

Leona: Thanks. See you tomorrow. *ends the call*

Leona: *has arrived at their room and sees MC holding Liora protectively in their arms while sleeping against the bed frame*

Leona: ...

Leona: *decides to approach them quietly*

Leona: *sits next to them* *putting an arm around their shoulder and pulling them slightly towards him, causing them to lean over to his side*

Leona: ...

MC: Do not stare at me like that.

Leona: !!!

Leona: You're awake?

MC: Yes. I could feel your stare digging holes in me.

Leona: Well, sorry for waking you up.

MC: It's fine. I was hoping you would.

Leona: ...

Leona: *has a faint blush on his cheeks*

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst leona #twst baby liora #twst kalim #twst jamil #twst divorced au

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siribaes · 4 months

Text

ANGEL OF MINE (Sequel to Who’s Better Than Me?)

Rio x blackfem!reader (OC - Angel)

“After a plateau in their relationship, Rio sets out to make things right—”

PARING: Exes to Lovers / Past High School School Sweethearts

SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: We Need Resolution by Aaliyah, Best Thing by Usher, Take Away by Missy Elliott & Ginuwine, Think Of You by Amerie, Fallen by Mya, Ella Me Levanto by Daddy Yankee

CONTENTS: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, ANGST, Some fluff, professing of love, cursing, pinv, r*ugh s*x, cre*m p*e, or*l (fem receiving), Semi Redeemed Rio, Rio being a bedroom bully, with a dash of pettiness again lol, slight use of Spanish, a potential pregnancy, etc. (NOT PROOFREAD/UNEDITED)

AUTHORS NOTE: Genuinely I did not think about writing another part, but some ideas popped up in my head and so here we are lol! this part is kinda long but hope y’all enjoy regardless 💖 GIF CREDIT: by me :)

“How I'm supposed to be to you if you keep squirmin'? Be still,"

Angel couldn’t fully register Rio’s instructions over the pounding of her heart. She shivered, squirming in her spot on the bed. Rio lowered his head, placing small kisses on Angel’s stomach. The softness and warmth of his lips spurred her on even more, Angel began to pull away from Rio's touch.

“Don’t move,” Rio ordered, his large hands held her in place, one of them pressed down on Angel's stomach, "You gonna be good and listen, hm?"

“Yes! I’ll be g-good,” Angel whimpered.

Rio smiled down at her, keeping one hand on her stomach, while the other reached for his hardened shaft. He aligned himself with her dripping core, plunging the tip into her wetness, eliciting a soft moan from Angel. He repeated the movement a few times over slowly easing more of him into her. Angel’s whines grew more desperate with each shallow stroke.

With one last stroke, Rio bottomed out, fully, planting his hands firmly at Angel’s waist.

“Fuck, Angel. So fuckin’ tight,”

Angel’s hands snake up Rio’s back, pulling him towards her, as he began rocking into her.

“Angel,”

“Yes, baby?”

“Angel,”

“Hm?”

“Angel!”

With two snaps from her friend, Benny, Angel was pulled out of her reverie and back into reality.

“You good?” Benny asked as he waved his fork in the air.

“She’s fine,” Keke chuckled, “She’s just having a flashback, of Riooo,”

Angel rolled her eyes as she took a sip from her drink. She leaned back into her seat, looking at the passerbyers. It was a beautiful day, the sun shined brightly, casting down warm rays. After being stuck in the office in the all morning, the change in scenery was much needed.

“Have you talked to him?” Benny mused. He twirled pasta around his fork, before eating a large forkful.

“…No,” Angel sighed.

“Seriously?” Keke asked, eyes wide with shock. “I thought y’all hit it off, literally, after the reunion,”

“We did! And the sex was amazing, but—”

“But what?”

“I don’t know, y'all. So much time has passed, and he's changed so much since we were in high school, I feel like he's not the same boy I once knew,”

"I mean duh, Angel," Keke shrugged, "are any of us who we were 20 years ago?"

"She's right, Angel," Benny added, "None of us are the same as we were back then. It's impossible, babe. It sounds like you more scared of what he does not who is,"

Angel leaned back into her chair; arms folded across her chest. Maybe Benny was right. There was never a moment that passed in the day that she didn't want to be wrapped in Rio's arms. To just be with him. Yet, every time Angel wanted to reach out something stopped her. Everything was different about Rio and seeing him at the reunion was a bit jarring. From his clothes to the way he walked, even that damn eagle tattoo itched on his neck. The way he practically had all of their former classmates fawning over him, laughing at all of his jokes. There was a dangerous charm that Rio possessed. Sure, Angel was used to Rio's boy-ish charms after being on the receiving end of it, but this was something entirely different. It was potent, calculated, and completely irresistible. That was developed from experience, an experience that made Angel think twice.

"By all means, I'm not excusing Rio's, nefarious activities," Benny continued, "I just think you should at least talk to the man. The man, you've been in love with most of your life,"

"And from that glow you've been sporting," Keke added, she paused to a sip from her drink, slurping for dramatic affect. Benny and Angel chuckled, "I know that dick was good. So, take a chance! You'll never know what could happen between you too,"

Angel nodded. For the rest of the day, she pondered Benny and Keke's advice. She had to take a chance, she had to try.

----

It wasn't until 10 PM, when Angel pulled to her home. Arms chalked full of groceries, she wanted to stock up on food and other snacks for her much needed staycation. Angel trudged up the stairs, to her humble bungalow, she fumbled with the straps of the shopping bags and her work purse, trying grab her keys. She quickly opened the door, once inside she locked the door behind her and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Angel didn't bother to turn the light on in the kitchen. Her mind was preoccupied with putting the groceries away so she could take a shower and finally relax. So much that she didn't notice a smoldering, Rio leaned against the refrigerator. He watched her as she unloaded the groceries, not wanting to disturb her just yet. He wanted to admire the way her slacks hugged her curves, just a tad bit longer.

With a grocery bag in hand, Angel turned around, immediately meeting Rio's eyes. Her heart dropped to her stomach.

“Fuck!”

Angel quickly crouched down, grabbing the spilled groceries on the floor. Rio crossed the room in quick strides, bending down to help. A quietness fell over them as they loaded the items into the reusable bag.

“…What are you doing here? How did you get here? You know what don't answer that," Angel sputtered. She sat the bag on her breakfast table. She folded her arms over her chest, “No call, no text. I mean, what the hell Rio?”

His expression was indecipherable as Rio peered at her. His eyes continued to trace over her, as if he was trying to commit her features to memory, as if he really needed to for that matter. Rio tipped his head to the side and scratched the light stubble on his chin.

Angel mentally kicked herself, only Rio could look that dangerously good in minimal lighting. She averted her eyes, looking at the calendar tacked on her fridge, before looking back at Rio.

He shrugged. “I could say the same. You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You avoidin’ me?”

Angel scoffed. “First off, I’m not avoiding you. Second, who breaks into someone’s home after not seeing for a couple of weeks—”

“—A month,”

“However, long it was. If you wanted to talk, this isn’t the way to go about it,”

Rio nodded slowly, poking his bottom lip in that ever so subtle way, as he mused over Angel’s words.

“If I called, would you have answered?”

Angel opened her mouth to respond but quickly closed it. Truth was, if Rio did call, she wouldn’t have picked up. Not because Angel didn’t want to, it was complicated. The night that they shared was magical, more amazing than anything Angel could ever dream of, but when the sun rose the next morning and reality set in. They were too different, Angel lived a normal life, she loved her job, her friends, her family, even the “Tinkerbell” car she drove. Her life was routine, with a few moments of spontaneity (hooking up with Rio was one of them). Rio’s life she assumed, was nothing but spontaneity, having to always keep one eye open, always looking over one’s shoulder. Adding Rio into the equation was too much. It was easier when they were younger, it was simpler time. Their love came with no extra baggage, it was pure.

Now, things are much different, Rio was different. He’s a crime boss for pete’s sake, and Angel knew that he didn’t want the same things, as she did. Last time she checked, living the life of a criminal didn’t allow for marriage and kids, not in the way Angel wanted anyway.

“Rio,” Angel began, the dropped her arms, and twiddled with her fingers, “you…we, we are just different,”

A deep sigh escaped Rio. When Angel finally met Rio’s gaze she could see the cracks in his resolve. His jaw was tight, and usual brown eyes carried a hardness in them. Rio ran a hand across her features, rolling his shoulders while doing so.

“You breakin’ my heart, Angelita,” Rio took a few steps forward, now standing only a few away from Angel. He easily towered over her small frame, “what’s so different about me?”

“Y-you’ve changed, I’ve changed,”

“So?”

“So?! This is serious, Rio, are lives are completely different, you don’t want the same things as me,”

“Bullshit. I need real, Angel. Why are you pullin’ away from me?”

“You’re a fucking criminal, Rio!”

A huge wave of embarrassment and guilt washed over her, she quickly buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t bear to look at Rio after saying what she said. How could she react like that? Regardless of her aversion to what Rio does, he deserved more respect than the outburst she just had. This was the man she’s been in love with since she fifteen, he deserved better.

Angel felt Rio gently wrap his hands around hers, and pulled them away from her face. He then tilted Angel’s upwards to meet his gaze. Rio searched her eyes, seeing the guilt in them he softened.

“You scared of me, Angel?”

Angel froze. Her mind traveling back to the night they spent together, and the glimpse gun she saw as she left his place. Her mind drummed up all of the scenarios that could happen, flashes of him in an orange jumpsuit behind bars, and his name across the headstone in the graveyard. A future that she never wanted to see, but in a way already happened. A little into Angel's first semester of college, word got out Rio was going to prison, it broke her. She couldn't bear to see him like that or worse, 6 feet under.

So, to answer his question was she scared of Rio, no. Was she scared of what could happen to Rio, absolutely, Angel loved him too much just to be okay with could happen to him. Or what he could do to others.

"Hey, hey," Rio spoke, pulling her focus back to him, "there you go wonderin' again. Tell me, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Angel sighed. “...I don’t like what you do,”

Rio dropped his hand away from Angel's chin. He nodded slowly, processing. A quietness fell over them, as they stared wordlessly at one another. Rio's eyes slowly trailed down towards Angel's chest. She felt the breath hitch in her throat, when he reached towards her. Gently, he lifted the necklace she wore. Rio held the angel pendant between his fingers, the pad of his thumb softly tracing over the figure's wings.

"You kept it," Rio spoke, his eyes combing over the figure with Angel could only interpret as fondness. Her heart fluttered. "You know, I put in mad work tryna get this. Cutting grass, washing cars, all that shit. I wanted you to feel good. I wanted you to know I loved you,"

"Rio..."

"Por siempre y para siempre, forever and always. That's what's engraved on the wings. Angel, you're my forever, you're my always. It's only been you,"

Angel felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. This is the most vulnerable she's seen Rio, ever. To hear him speak with such sincerity and conviction, Angel couldn't help her heart swell with love.

"My business is my business, and I can't change what I did and all the choices I've made. But being with you made me realize, mama that shit has an expiration date," Rio brought his hands to Angel's face, and cradled her soft cheeks, "I can't promise that I'll magically become a better man over night, but I want to try, for you will. 'Cause I don't wanna loose you mama, not again,"

Without a second thought Angel leans forward and kisses Rio. Their kiss was sweet, tongues moving in tandem as Angel snaked her arms around Rio, pulling him closer to her. Her fingers caress the top of Rio's head, soft touches rubbing at his scalp. Rio lets out a throaty groan, its vibrations straight to Angel's core. A flush of heat rushes through her entire body. She breaks the kiss.

"I wanna try, Christopher," Angel whispers. She nuzzles Rio's nose. He pulls away slightly, to see her face fully. A smile blooms across his face. He kisses her again.

"Yeah?" Rio's smile grows wider seeing the sincerity in Angel's face.

"Yes, baby," Angel nods, biting her lip.

A flicker of lust danced in Rio eyes. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, while his hands drifted towards Angel's bottom. Rio's large hands squeezed and palmed her ass. He landed a firm smack on her ass.

"Rio!"

He chuckled. "Go upstairs, and get on the bed, how I like," Rio mumbled against her cheek, before placing a soft kiss there.

Angel didn't waste any time, she raced upstairs to her bedroom, completely forgetting about her groceries in the kitchen. She kicked off her heels, stripping off her slacks and dress shirt. Angel sat on her bed, legs spread out for him, in only her bra and panties. Coincidently, in his favorite color, green.

Minutes seemed to drawl into hours as Angel waited. Her heart rattled against her chest, as Angel's mind raced at the possibilities of what Rio was going to do to her. Another a minute or so passed when Angel heard Rio's footsteps coming up the stairs.

He appeared in doorway with two bottles of water in hand. He smoothly entered the room, eyes glued to Angel, he settled on a spot in front of Angel's vanity. Rio sat one of the water bottles down on the table, while he opened the other, taking a quick sip. His were so heated, so blazed as they roamed Angel's body. It felt like invisible hands were rubbing and caressing her all over.

"You look good, mama. All spread out for me. Shit, lingerie in my favorite color too..."

"All for you, baby," Angel cooed.

Rio's lips tipped into small smile. He took another swig of water. He sat the bottle down, putting the cap back on.

"I'm not gonna lie, you hurt my feelings, when you went ghost on me..."

"Rio, baby, I'm sorry–"

"Sshhh," Rio hushed Angel with a finger to his lips, "All is forgiven, but you got make it up to me. You gonna make it up to me, darlin'?"

Angel nodded.

"Play with that pussy for me."

Angel slowly peeled out of her panties, making a show out of it, she made sure that Rio got a view of her ass. She flung them to the side, returning her previous position. Widening her legs, Angel's fingers found themselves at her core, swiping at the wetness, she began to rub taut circles on her clit.

"Fuck!" Angel whined.

"Damn..." Rio voice trailed, eyes zeroing in Angel's core. He hummed in satisfaction as fingers began to unbutton his flannel. "You, look so fuckin' good. You close?"

"Yesssss, I'm so close! I need you soooo bad," Angel moaned as her fingers continued to rub tight circles on her clit.

"I got you, just keep going. I wanna see my pretty girl cum for me,"

Angel felt the familiar knot in her belly as her orgasm began to build. Her wetness pooled out of her the more her fingers worked her core. She felt her pussy flutter when Rio peeled out his t-shirt, revealing his svelte frame covered in intricate tattoos. Seeing his rich skin practically covered ink, tipped her over the edge.

"Ooooh, shit, I'm cummin',"

"Mhm, let it out for me, mama," Rio egged her on.

Angel shook as her orgasm coursed through her, wetting up her sheets. She laid down on the bed, closing her eyes as she rode out the aftershocks, her skin tingling with pleasure. Quick taps on her thighs, brought her back, she opened her eyes to Rio looming over her.

"On all fours, darlin',"

Angel obliged. She turned and faced her faced her headboard. She adjusted herself, making sure her the arch in her back was damn near perfect. Rio's belt and zipper clinked and clanked as he undressed himself. His hands palmed her ass, the callused pads of his fingers felt good against her skin. Angel mewled loudly, when she felt Rio's soft tongue lick down her slit.

"Christopher!"

"You taste good. Sweet as fuck," Rio groaned. "You ready for me?"

"Yes, baby. Please don't play with it," Angel turned her head to look at him, biting down her lip. She gazed into his stormy eyes, clouded thick with lust. With one hand, Rio's fingers trailed down Angel's spine, pausing for second. Then landed another firm smack on her Angel's ass. "Baby! Be nice,"

"Nah," Rio stated firmly, he deepened Angel's arch. He adjusted himself, inching his dick closer to Angel's entrance, "You still got some makin' up to do,"

With no warning, Rio plunged into Angel, bottoming out completely. Angel's toes curled, at his fullness and the stretch that only he could give her. He circled himself inside her, pulling himself out, then plunging back in. Rio tightened the grip on Angel's hips as began to rock into her. She gushed and clenched around his member, nails clawing at the sheets below them.

"Goddamn," Rio hissed, "I feel you tightin' around me. You close already?"

"Oh my god! Yes, you fuckin' me so good,"

"Yeaaaah, that's right me, only me. Nobody else, right mama?"

"N-nobody else, baby, shit! I love you so much, Christopher,"

Angel felt Rio's hips stutter at her confession. It only served as more motivation for Rio, spurring him on, he pistoned into Angel faster and harder. He reached downwards, grabbing a handful of her coils, yanking her upwards.

"Say it again," He rasped in her ear.

"I-I-I love you, shit,"

"Again,"

"I love you, I love you, I love you, Rio I'm cumming," Angel cried out.

Rio held Angel close, fucking her through her orgasm. Angel shuddered, as she felt her essence drip down her thighs, as Rio continued to thrust into her wildly, kissing and nibbling at her ear lobe. He slowed rhythm of his hips, letting Angel's hair go, placing small kisses down her neck and shoulders.

"You did so good for me," Rio breathed out. He softly patted at Angel's plush thighs, as he slowly pulled out. "Face me,"

Angel shifted around, laying on her back she spread her legs wide. Rio situated himself between Angel's legs. He stroked himself a few times, biting his lip at the small squelching noises he made. In one swift motion, Rio plunged himself back in, fully engulfing himself in Angel's wet pussy.

"Fuckkkkkk," Rio growled. Angel whined in response. At this angle, Rio was hitting her spongy spot way deeper than before, causing waves of pleasure to flood her entire body. "Pussy so fuckin', shit, nena,"

Both her heart and her pussy fluttered, seeing the blissed out look on his gorgeous features. Rio was always so controlled and reserved most of them, so to see him like this, guttural, borderline animalistic, Angel loved it. She began to feel him throb inside of her, he was close.

"Mhmm, I feel you, baby. I want you to cum inside me," Angel cooed as she cradled the back of Rio neck.

"Yeah? You want me cummin', inside you. Careful, now. I might fuck around and give you a baby forreal,"

Angel cupped Rio's face, kissing him deeply. She pulled away, nodding her head in a wordless confirmation. Rio's eyes softened, at the realization. He bucked his hips, in deep, desperate strokes.

"Shit! Angelita, you gonna look so good, belly fully, with our baby, fuck. I love you, Angel," He grunted, as his resolve was wearing down by the second. The midst of his brutal thrust, Angel felt another orgasm hurdle towards the surface. Her walls spasmed around Rio's dick, screaming out as she came. "Just like that, fuck, eres mio, todo mio, baby, shit,"

A few strokes were all it took to send Rio over the edge. He buried himself in Angel's neck as his blasted his cum inside of her. Rio groans were muffled against Angel's skin. He held her closed as he shook from the pleasure, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum inside of her. Angel wrapped her legs around him, she didn't want to miss a single drop.

A calmness fell over them, as the breathed in tandem, hearts following the same rhythm. Rio lifted his head up, resting his chin on Angel's chest. Warms hands rubbed soft circles against her skin. He gazed at her, nothing but love and stardust in them.

"You're gonna be a good mom," He mumbled.

Angel smiled softly, she rubbed at his shoulders. "And you're gonna be a good dad. I love you, Christopher,"

"I love you too, mama. Por siempre y para siempre."

#siribaesfics #rio x reader #rio x blackfem!reader #rio x blackcurvy!reader #rio x black!reader #black fanfiction #poc fanfiction #rio smut #rio good girls fanfiction

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