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that-student-that-has-homework · 2 months

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Louder than Words - Portgas D. Ace

Portgas D. Ace x Reader

This is like the mushiest piece I have written. I was kinda embarrassed...but here it is. Let's give him the hugs and space he needed huh? This could also be a message to you lovelies out there too. MasterList linked at the bottom too!

Ace didn’t know what came over you, but whatever it was, he wasn’t complaining. Per se.

You’d cupped his face gently, rubbing your thumbs along his cheeks tenderly, while he just looked back at you, curious. He smiled, in hopes of easing or appeasing whatever drudge was swirling in his chest and tainting this moment, “everything alright?”

You hummed and nodded at him, not a line on your expression but the bliss that pulled at your lips, revealing your peaceful serenity to him. His breath hitched slightly as you pressed your lips to his forehead, lingering for a moment. Then a shorter peck to his nose, before nuddling it back and forth with your own. He reopened his eyes when you tilted his head, still cradled in your palms, and pressed kisses to either of his cheeks.

You pulled away enough to look him in the eyes, and he felt his heart chase after you, beating with a tenacity meant to jump ship from his chest to yours. Your eyes dropped to the last target on his face, and he felt his entire physiology twist in anticipation.

You guided his face to yours gently, holding him as though he was the most prized treasure of all the seas. If he ever said that aloud, you would agree.

Your own personal One Piece.

You guided him, and he followed eagerly, gravitating towards you naturally, and you met him somewhere in the middle, colliding in an explosion of euphoria, igniting the wiring of his entire being.

His every sense sharpened, yet by attuning himself to your every move he melded into you. He-his edges-seemed to all but disappear as he chased after you unwilling to disconnect for a moment longer than necessary. Your pull, irresistible-inevitable as he continued to dive deeper into it.

Deeper and deeper.

Closer and closer.

Chest to chest.

Heart to heart.

Until you gently guided him away, again cradling his face and rubbing sweet, sweet, tender circles into his skin, massaging your warmth into him. Your eyes again held his, and gosh you’re just so beautiful. He’s pulled out of his daze when he felt your chest struggling under his. You’re panting slightly, your breathing a little strained, and he realized that his weight on you definitely isn’t helping.

He lifted himself up just slightly-unwilling to completely part but-no longer crushing you. He couldn’t help but wonder: when had he ended up on top of you like this?

You’re gently moving his head about in your palms again, pressing another kiss to his forehead. Then another to the crown of his head and for a moment he’s so glad he showered and washed his hair yesterday.

“I’m so thankful to have you in my life,” you breathed into his skin, lips inscribing the words into his forehead, and tugging on his heart strings.

Again his head is guided by your hands and again his eyes are treated to the sight of yours. Like a rope with a knot catching onto a splinter of wood, the air caught inside his chest. Your own eyes trailed over his features, slowly, carefully, as though committing every part of him, every detail, to memory. You studied him with a sort of reverence, your awe manifesting in a choked gasp and subtle widening of the eyes.

Your hands slowly slipped from his face, and he found himself missing your touch immediately. Thankfully, he didn’t have to part with it for long.

“I am so grateful,” your fingers ghosted along his cheek moving to his lips, “that you exist,” your words tugged at that stuck knot.

“That you were born,” a warmth spread through his chest - yet he couldn’t breathe.

“That you exist in this world - and that I,” your expression became impossibly soft, “that I get to know you.”

He opened his mouth desperate to return the sentiment, but you continued gently tracing his lips as you did, “that you’re allowing me to love you like this.”

He couldn’t-

You let out a little squeak at the speed and force with which he sat the two of you up and held you. His fingers interwoven with your hair, his nose buried in your neck, his other hand pressing you into him, melding you into his body. Soon enough, even his legs came to wrap around your own, completely preventing any chance of escape.

Though to be honest, you escape to him, not from him.

Oh the things you did to him.

He might be made of fire, but his devil fruit couldn’t protect him from the way your affections effectively set fire to his very brain-his heart. His chest heaved, pressing against yours, his eyes water and his grip tightened. Tremors overtook him as he fought the urge to crush you completely into his body.

How could joy resemble a knife tearing through his chest? How could the tearing pain feel so delightful? The contradictions were enough to make his head spin and his thoughts knot up.

A gentle hand - your gentle hand slowly worked its way through his hair, patiently undoing any tangles your fingers came about, consequently undoing the intricate knotting of the net entangling his mind. The delicate trails your fingertips drew along his scalp soothed his thoughts such that each raging beastly emotion was conquered in turn. It wasn’t too long before he’d vanquished the confusion, your tender care steering him to clarity.

You were steering him towards dreamland too if he’s honest, as his consciousness began to ebb under the rhythmic flow of your fingers through the waves of his hair. It wasn’t long before it plunged completely into the ocean of unconsciousness.

// ——

When he regained consciousness you were seated beside him, reading something or another. You were really engrossed in whatever it was you were reading, so much so that you startled a little when his hand lethargically claimed your own, pulling it closer to him.

He brushed his lips on the back of it, grinning up at you with eyes that drooped with the sleep still in them. He delighted in the flustered expression you wore in response to his own affections, blinking at you slowly. You marked your page with your free hand, before closing the book to give him your undivided attention.

“How was your nap, love?” Love you called him. Love.

His eyelids closed, succumbing to the weight they seemed to carry, basking in the bliss washing over him like a gentle summer shower.

Love.

He could hear you moving about, his hold on your hand tightening as you shifted. A little groan left him as he struggled to open his eyes and mouth to speak to you. You were not helping with how your other hand came to comb his hair again, but he managed, “mmm you’re…gon’ make me fall ‘sleep ‘gain.”

“Then that means you need more sleep m’love,” m’love, not just any love, your love. Yours.

He was your love.

Yours.

He was yours. Happily so. Forever would be too. If you’d have him.

He hummed, lips weakly pushing through sleep to show you his satisfaction.

Your voice was much closer to him now, speaking from right above his head, and he fought an uphill battle trying to open his eyes to look at you. His whole body felt heavy, completely sapped of strength. Heck even his grip on your hand was as limp as ever. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was in contact with sea stone or something.

He felt you press your lips to his forehead again, gently fueling him enough to pull his lips into a drowsy, wobbly, smile.

“Get some rest love,” you spoke softly, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Stay wit mmmmm,” talking was proving to be a challenge, “c’mere.”

He threw a heavy arm over what he hoped was your waist. It probably was? Gosh he couldn’t care with the way you were giggling next to him.

“Sure thing love,” you had to be doing some kind of magic with how he felt like he was levitating despite the weight that seeped into his bones, “just let me brush my teeth first.”

He couldn’t hold you down if he wanted to with how tired he was, “mmm back soo,” he mumbled.

“Sure thing,” his lips wobbled themselves into a smile as you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead again.

He was out instantaneously. You kept your promise though; through his daze he felt you slip in and embrace him. Seems like his body knew what to do too, despite its earlier lack of cooperation, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you in return before he was out again.

He woke up in your arms.

His head rested against your chest, with your arm languidly around his shoulders. Taking in a deep breath filled him with the nostalgia of the scent of home. A home that did not exist in his memories. Which meant it probably existed in his imagination then. A home that could be. A home with you.

It was the scent of home nonetheless.

He tightened his hold on your waist nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

I’m so grateful you exist.

His arms instinctively tightened.

That you were born.

His inhale was a stuttery one, his own lips and vision stuttering as well. He buried his face further into your neck, taking in your scent again. Yet all that did was push the tears out faster.

That was the opposite of what he’d expected!

Urgh. One of those hot, salty blobs ended up on your skin.

To his relief, and dismay - oddly enough - you remained unconscious. Your eyes closed and breathing consistent. Though that didn’t last long, as you shifted slightly, the arm around his shoulder worked to pull him into you, as your other one came up to play with his hair-you really liked doing that huh?

“Get it aaall,” your voice was thick with sleep, “get it all…out,” you hummed a bit, “let all that poison out.”

“Darlin’, did I wake you?” It was pathetic how his voice cracked - he hated this weakness that was welling up...again.

Just like that, your hold on him tightened, your lips pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“I’d be upset if you didn’t,” you sounded much more awake now, “you’re one of the people I want to be there for the most.”

Unfortunately, a choked sob left him. Gosh he was so pathetic. He was a full grown man! He wasn’t supposed to be some weak crybaby! To think he used to get mad at Luffy for crying too!

Yet…

He. couldn’t. stop.

His shoulders shook, the tremors traveled his body, and a violent shiver wracked it. Yet you laid and held him and ran your fingers through his hair, kissing your favorite spot on his forehead consistently. Every kiss, every gentle brush of your loving fingers tenderly working through his hair, every tender trace of your fingertips on his scalp, brought a fresh wave of tears to follow the next. At some point he’d started clutching on to you, like you were the life-ring preventing him from drowning.

He wasn’t sure how long you two stayed like that. All he knew that in between his sniffles and his sobbing there was your voice.

“Get it all out love,” you lightly encouraged - as though he wasn’t lesser for crying like a baby.

“I’m so proud of you,” you said a few times too - as though this pathetic display wasn’t shameful.

“I love you so much,” you reaffirmed time and time again stroking his hair - as though his weakness didn’t make him less desirable.

For whatever reason he didn’t doubt a word. Despite the mental cesspool working overtime to drown him in darkness, the light of your honesty shone through. No matter how far he fell, it followed.

He wasn’t sure how long you two lay there, holding each other, and he wasn’t sure when he’d lost consciousness again. His eyes were so incredibly heavy when he woke up again though. They must be swollen from all his crying. You weren’t next to him this time, however as his senses came back to him, he could hear the sounds of a pen scratching and paper flipping.

When he sat up, he noticed a pitcher of water and a tall glass with an opaque yellow-tinted liquid and some mint leaves in it-lemonade probably-on the bedside table. He had a moment to locate you at his desk before you turned to face him, “hey there.”

“Hey,” he croaked, voice still thick from lack of use.

You put the pen down, got up, and walked towards him with a kind smile, “I made you some lemonade, and got some water,” you sat down near his legs, “gotta replace all those fluids you lost.”

That got a chuckle out of him, “your lessons with Marco are going well, huh?”

“I also have a lot of personal experience with these things,” you grinned at him.

“With crying like a baby?”

You just hummed and nodded.

“This might sound bad,” you weren’t looking at him as you confessed, “but I’m kind of…” you trailed off, shooting him a quick glance, “happy,” you shrunk, your shoulders reaching your ears, “you felt safe enough to be that vulnerable with me.”

“So, you liked seeing me cry?” He poked at you. “Should I cry more for you, doll?”

“Ace,” you groaned, your smile only growing fonder as you looked at him.

“Didn’t peg you for a masochist,” he kept teasing, “I’m not sure how I feel about this kink of yours.”

He loved the way you rolled your eyes, but revealed your teeth with how big your smile was getting. “I don’t like seeing you cry,” you corrected, “I like that you feel safe with me.”

You paused, then appended, “well safe enough to not hide your pain.”

“Hide my pain?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Crying is one way to get pain out of your body,” you twisted your body to face him more fully, voice soft as you shared your opinion, “emotional pain especially.”

“Isn’t crying just weakness?” He frowned at you.

“No?”

“It’s not?”

“Do you think I’m weak when I cry?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“But you’re a woman.”

A tired look flashed over your features momentarily, “so men aren’t allowed to cry?” You challenged, tone still as patient as ever.

“Only weak men cry,” for some reason the words sounded less convincing in your presence.

“Who says?” His gaze snapped up to meet yours and you repeated yourself, “who said?”

“Isn’t it just something that everyone knows?” His brow furrowed, scowl taking his features.

“No,” you paused as you said that, “well I guess in a sense,” you squinted at nothing, “yes… it is something that many people assume.”

“You just saw me cry like a baby,” he countered, “you don’t think I’m weak?”

“On the contrary,” he felt his eyes widen despite the weight embedded into them, “you’ve been carrying all that pain.”

An ache tormented your gentle expression, “and you choose kindness and warmth and bring joy to those you care about despite it,” you looked him in the eye again, “that isn’t something a weak person could do.”

A shiver traveled down his spine at the way your eyes studied him, softening as you opened your mouth to speak again, “kindness is the mark of the strong, Ace,” you placed your hand on top of his notably larger one, pride dripping from your voice, “and you’re so incredibly kind.”

What was with you and stealing the air from his lungs? He felt his chest constrict like he’d been punched too.

“We’re so lucky to have you in our lives,” your thumb traced circles onto the back of his hand, “we’re even luckier to be loved by you.”

He could feel that prickling in the back of his eyes he was becoming way too familiar with for his liking. “We really have to do something about that crying kink of yours,” he joked.

You scoffed, shaking your head, but you weren’t mad. “I think I’m just going to have to tell you more often how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

His heart lurched in his chest, “I think I’m the lucky one.”

“We can both be lucky.”

“Then I’m luckier.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yea huh.”

“Agree to disagree?”

“No,” he has a huge grin on his face at your scowl.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, rising from the bed with a dramatic sigh, “I’ll let you believe whatever you want to believe.”

“Oi!” He couldn’t help the chuckle that left him.

“Drink some water and your lemonade, love,” you gave him a little peck on his forehead again, “then let’s get you showered and fed.”

He caught your wrist as you moved away, “where are you going?”

“To the desk,” you blinked at him.

“What’re you up to there?”

“I’m just going through some paperwork,” he really was the luckier one of the two of you.

“Marry me,” the words flew out of his mouth before his mind could even register them in his thoughts.

You laughed, raising your left hand for him to view, “already did.”

Shoot.

“Now,” mirth still colored your expression, “you drink your lemonade while I get these papers done.”

“Yes ma’am,” he saluted you and allowed you to slip out of his grasp.

It was when he’d finally moved to lean back against the wall and grabbed the drink you’d prepared that he heard you giggle a little. Strange, given what you were working on, “see something funny?”

“No,” you singsonged, cheerfully wiggling in your seat, “it’s just my husband asked me to marry him, again, and I’m feeling very happy.”

His head clunked against the wall he rested against, heat rushing to his cheeks as a disgruntled groan left him, despite the way he was grinning, “I swear I didn’t forget.”

“I didn’t think you did, love,” you giggle some more, turning slightly to look at him, “I’m just so happy you would want to marry me, again.”

“I’d marry you again every day if I could,” he took a swig of his lemonade enjoying the way you fought and failed to keep your smile contained as it threatened to split what he could see of your face.

You turned back around and he could see that you were fighting to focus on the papers in front of you.

“How about we have another wedding on the Moby Dick?” He found himself scooching his way down the bed, his excitement uncontained. “We can get you a proper dress this time! Your own!”

He looked up thinking some more, “and I’ll wear a proper suit with a vest and a tie and everything!”

“I’m surprised you know about vests and ties,” you shot him a teasing grin.

“Hey! I took some etiquette classes as a kid!”

“You did?”

“I didn’t tell you?” He’d have to tell you more about his life before he set sail then. “Yeah back when I was in the East Blue,” it’s been a while since he left huh? “Makino-a barmaid from the village nearby-taught me manners.”

“So she’s the one that taught you about vests and ties?”

“Yeah,” oh wait a second, “we can have Thatch make us a huge cake and a feast!” Now that he was back on the original topic he had so many ideas! “Pops can officiate! Marco can be the one to bring you down the aisle! And-and-”

“You really want to have another wedding then?” You were now turned to face him completely.

“Yeah! How about it?” He scooched even closer to you. “Our first one was nice too, but we were in a hurry and I remember we had to go with whatever we had.”

“Is it bad that I liked our small, humble wedding?”

“Huh? No of course not! It was great!” Where did that come from? “I’m just saying we can have another so I can ‘marry you again.’”

“Hmm the idea of seeing you all dressed up in a three piece suit is tempting,” you hummed.

He guffawed a bit at that. “I’d probably mistake you for an angel if I saw you in a white dress.”

“Aww you wouldn’t recognize me?”

“Nah because,” he smirked, “I’d be blinded by how beautiful you’d look.”

When you hunched your shoulders to your ears and looked away a bit, his chest swirled with pride. He was getting better at this flirting with you thing!

“Maybe we shouldn’t then,” sounds of protest were leaving him before he knew it, “I don’t want to blind you.”

That had the two of you laughing.

When you calmed down, you turned back towards the work waiting for you, “there isn’t much left to do commander, so stop distracting me.”

Your distraction quickly chugged the rest of that refreshing glass of juice, and moved back to pour himself a glass of water. Something seemed to click within his head as he pondered your order: “I’m distracting now, am I?”

“Very.”

He burst out laughing. “Well we’re even then,” he proceeded to take a loud slurp of water.

He almost choked on it laughing when he saw you startle a bit, his flirt landing well with you again.

Cradling his glass, he opted to just watch you work. He’d make your second wedding happen. You deserved to be celebrated again and again. Besides, it’s not like pirates didn’t party regularly. So it’s not like they’d be going out of their way really-if that’s what you were worried about. Well, knowing you, that was something you were worried about. He found an amused little huff leaving him at that thought.

“See something funny, love?” Seems you’d heard him.

“Nope,” he grinned your way, “just thinking.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“Hey!”

“You come up with some pretty crazy schemes,” he noticed the little smirk on your lips - oh you cheeky - “they’re usually fun, even if they’re dangerous.”

“Like you’re one to talk!” He grinned. “You always add on more crazy things!”

“My crazy things are to make your crazy things less dangerous,” you hummed, “I very much prefer you alive, well, and healthy you see.”

“You just like me,” he beamed at you with a laugh.

“I love you, actually,” you responded without missing a beat nor looking up from your paperwork.

Yeah.

He was definitely giving you that second wedding here on the Moby Dick. Maybe even at one of the prettier spring or autumn islands on Pops’ turf. Whatever you’d like the most! Heck he’ll give you two second weddings - er - a second and a third. Wedding. Yeah.

Oh!

Maybe he could even surprise you with it!

He ought to get started on it - today! Right now!

He threw back the rest of his glass of water and rushed to the door.

“Ah! Ace! Wait a second!” He paused right before opening it up. “I’m just about done with this! Let me finish and I can help you with your hair and back!”

“Huh?” He raised a brow at you.

“Huh?” You returned equally confused. “Weren’t you going to shower to feel better?”

“No?” He tilted his head.

“Then you’re going straight for the kitchen?” You continued, still confused. “Didn’t you want to eat together?”

Oh that was tempting. He couldn’t say no to that. Wait, even the shower help was tempting. You’d been the one to teach him how to properly scrub his scalp after all. But he didn’t want to delay his surprise a second longer!

“Then, I’m gonna get some fresh air,” not really a lie, he’d get fresh air on his way to see Marco, “then we can eat together.”

“So no shower?”

“Wouldn’t we get caught?”

“What do you mean? I’m just washi-Ace!” You let out a garbled sound making him laugh.

“Alright, alright darlin’,” he gave you a lopsided grin, “I’m just teasing. Yeah we’ll do both.”

“Okay,” you seemed pleased with that outcome, despite it being more work for you.

He let go of the door handle to come press a kiss to your forehead, “love you.”

“Love you too,” you returned immediately.

He walked out the door feeling lighter than he had in a while.

Yeah he was definitely giving you the grandest wedding he could, and he was a Whitebeard pirate, and they really knew how to party.

Extra:

Later during an “Official Division Commander Meeting”:

Izou: she must be the one to pick out her dress

Ace: then I’ll take her out to get one picked

Izou: absolutely not! I will

Ace: hey she’s my wife

Izou: exactly! You’re not allowed to see her in the dress until the ceremony you fool!

Marco: (placing a comforting hand on Ace’s shoulder) well, there’s no one better for this task than Izou yoi

Izou: hmph! but of course

Thatch: you all have the easy part, I have to make all the food, and the cake

Ace: it’ll be worth it!

Thatch: for you maybe, you’re not the one cooking to feed a fleet. I swear I have the most difficult job

Marco: we have feasts all the time, no need to do anything extra yoi.

Ace: except the cake! The cake is really important!

Thatch: yeah yeah I heard you. groans

Marco: Besides your division has a bunch of cooks to help you out doesn’t it?

//------------------------

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#portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace fluff #portgas d ace #portgas d ace fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece #ace one piece

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daisynik7 · 9 months

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cw: alcohol, reader is drunk, Nanami is a doting husband, kissing, suggestive dialogue, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, baby, honey, good girl), use of daddy once

Author’s Note: Whoops, I’m afraid my Nanami brainrot is not over! Anyways, I got wine drunk yesterday and I was just imagining about how cute it would be for drunk!reader to come home to husband!Nanami. Enjoy! Banner by @/saradika.

You’ve got your arm draped across your best friend’s shoulders as she helps you stumble up the driveway to your house and towards the front door. She knocks with her free hand, waiting only several seconds before your husband answers, an amused grin on his face. “Thanks for bringing her home in one piece.”

She laughs, handing you off to him. “We almost found the bottom of the bottomless mimosas,” she jokes, waving farewell to the both of you, heading back to the car with the designated driver. Nanami watches them leave while you hang onto his shoulders for dear life.

He shuts the door behind him, carefully leading you into your home, bending down to remove your heels. You’re a wobbling mess, head hazy and body buzzing with intoxication from today’s brunch. One of infinite things you love about Nanami is how patient he is with you, even when you’re a useless lump, too uncoordinated to do the simplest things like this.

Now barefoot, you lean against him, using his entire body as support. He remains silent, a calm expression on his face, practically dragging you to the couch where he plops you down, kneeling before you to press the back of his hand to your cheek. He gives you a delicate smooch on the forehead before he stands up to walk to the kitchen. You hear the rushing sound of water from the faucet filling up a container and within seconds, he’s back, sitting beside you, handing you a full glass. “Drink this, sweetie.” You take it, tipping it into your mouth slowly until it’s half full and you’re properly quenched. He studies you in silence, scooching nearer with his hand resting on top of yours. “Are you alright?”

“I’m great,” you giggle, leaning towards him, lips grazing his with a crooked, goofy smile.

He laughs. “It looks like you had a lot of fun with your friends.” He sniffs, adding, “Your breath is very fruity.”

“Is it gross?” You frown at him, feigning embarrassment.

He shakes his head. “Not at all, honey. In fact, it’s very sweet.”

“You’re very sweet,” you respond, kissing him sloppily. Your hands grip to his t-shirt, tugging at the fabric to bring him closer to you.

Chuckling into your mouth, he pulls away, licking his lips. “Honey, you’re drunk.”

“No I’m not!” you exclaim. “I want you, baby! Don’t you want me?”

“Of course I want you. I always want you. But not like this. Let’s sober up first.”

“But I want it now!” you whine, being absolutely unbearable.

The smile on his face remains, ever so patient even when you’re being an annoying little shit. He nuzzles his nose to yours, cupping your cheek in his palm. “We’ll do it later, okay?” His voice lowers, mouth hot on your ear now. “Please, sweetheart? Can you be a good girl and listen to daddy?”

You groan, squeezing your legs together, grabbing him firmer. “Don’t tease me like that!”

He laughs again, placing another loving kiss on your forehead. “How about I make us some sandwiches and we watch a movie? Then, I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

You release him, sighing, still pretending to be disappointed when in fact, you’re more than satisfied. Thrilled beyond belief that you’re married to this incredible specimen of a man. “Fine. I guess that’s alright.”

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami fluff #kento nanami fluff #Nanami Kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #Nanami Kento x you #Nanami Kento x reader #nanami x you #nanami x reader #very self-indulgent nanami fic!#jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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quokkawritesarchive · 3 months

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BE MY VALENTINE — SEUNGMIN.

pairing: seungmin x reader(afab) genre: smut, NSFW warnings: sub!seungmin, dom!reader, nerdy seungmin, dirty talk, face slapping, dacryphilia, oral (f. receiving), dildo (s. receiving), handcuffs, dry humping a/n: it’s part of my valentine’s collab!

in your mind seungmin has always been the nerdy guy, who handled all assignments in time, never skipped a class and was against any situationships. but objectively he was hot as fuck.

it was the beginning of your second year of university, when you two met. it was one of those tropes, when popular girl starts dating a nerdy guy; besides, you were not popular, but he was very nerdy indeed.

you felt like the most desperate woman on earth, when you took your precious time to get him into dating you. but it was worth it. he became the perfect boyfriend — always taking care of you, cooking for you, holding doors for you, buying stuff for you. and most importantly taking things slow.

it was still a surprise to you how he agreed on dating in the first place, with him being so focused on studying all the time. but you didn’t rush him in any way, trusting the process. you already held hands multiple times and even started making out heavily last month. you could feel he was ready for a bigger step, but he just needed a little push.

that’s how you thought valentine’s day’ would help you. two of you spent the entire day together. aquarium date (that he suggested of course), then restaurant, and then the movie night at his place.

you found yourself being glued to him under blanked, head on his shoulder, legs thrown over his, while his palm rested on your hip. you’d lie if you said you weren’t incredibly turned on already. the heat was radiating from between your legs and you were squirming in place from time to time. seungmin was paying attention to the movie, of course. he chose to watch some national geographic documentary, which was a weird choice for 14th february, but you didn’t mind. as long as it made him happy. you glanced at his focused expression — the tv screen was reflecting on his glasses. it was even hotter how he wasn’t aware of his own attractiveness. to be fair, nothing is hotter than the guy, who is unaware of his own attractiveness.

sometimes seungmin was clingy, but mostly distant and trying to stay composed. you couldn’t quite figure out why, because as he told you, he had dated before, so it was not like he was a panicking virgin. what was he hiding?

“y/n… stop. i see what you’re doing.” he grabbed your wrist just when you could get to a piece of his skin under his t-shirt. fuck.

“i’m not doing anything.” you smiled cheekily. he caught you so quickly, you couldn’t even slightly touch him under the blanket. he was like a touch police, guarding your every movement.

seungmin rolled his eyes as a response and brought your hands back to the surface, holding them tightly.

“why are you so grumpy? don’t you like when i touch you?” it actually hurt you a little how he avoided your touch.

“i do, but it’s not the right time. let’s focus on the movie.” he replied with a smile. like his dumb smile could fix your growing anger. you needed his dick, not his smile.

“fine. just keep avoiding me like i am not your actual girlfriend.” annoyed and irritated you stood up heading towards the door of the living room.

“where are you going?” seungmin immediately asked.

“home.” you tried not to sound so hurt, but you couldn’t hide it anymore. why was he avoiding you? were you not attractive enough for him? were you not good enough? was he embarrassed of you?

“hey… are you alright?” suddenly you felt his hands wrapping around you from behind. he brought you closely to his chest, resting his face in the crook of your neck. even this simple action cause a wave of goosebumps on your skin. you sighed.

“min, i love you. thank you for today, it’s been perfect, really. but… i don’t think i can do this anymore.“

you heard seungmin’s breath quicken and you turned around to face him directly.

“but why?” he said, eyes filled with worry.

“i understand that you want to take things slow, but sometimes it just hurts when i can’t even touch you.” you cupped his cheek. “at least explain why i can’t touch you… please…”

the sigh that seungmin let out didn’t bode any good. he really did not want to answer you, but he had no other option now.

taking a few steps away from you, he started walking in circles, annoying you even more. what was all this drama for? you crossed your arms, annoyed he was taking so long and also annoyed that you genuinely wanted to know the answer. you couldn’t just leave now.

you were halfway convinced he was trying to come up with a lie when he finally threw his arms up in surrender.

“i’m… a pervert. i am a freak, whatever you wanna call it. my dick is hard every fucking time i see you, but that’s not the problem, because i know you also want to have sex with me.”

“so?” you said slowly, still annoyed. “what’s the problem then?”

“i… like mean women. i like when women are mean… to me. i like when they hurt me and make me cry. it… gets my dick hard. but i have never found a partner who was ready to go all the way. everyone is so scared to hurt me. and i don’t think you can be mean to me. so i didn’t even consider having sex with you, because normal sex is boring…”

“normal sex is… boring?” you said, flustered at his admission.

“yeah… ugh, well… i don’t think you’ll like what i like.” he fixed his glasses, finally meeting your eye contact.

“explain in words, min. i can’t read your mind. what do you like?”

seungmin sighed in frustration, fixing his glasses again. “use me, punish me, edge me, be mean. i don’t want to be just treated harshly, i wants to be broken. that’s what i like.”

his voice dropped lower and lower as his eyes flicked down to your lips. you couldn’t believe what you just heard.

“min, are you sure?”

“hundred percent.” he said, still staring at your lips.

well, you can’t deny your man’s needs.

the make out session turned out heavier than ever. you quickly made your way to the bedroom, stripping parts of clothing as you were walking. his tongue was all over your mouth, clearly ready to be used. you’ve never seen yourself as a dom, so your mind was having a hard time working out what you could do with seungmin right now. and you knew he’d let you.

the first slap to his face was so sudden, he even flinched.

“u okay?” you asked worryingly, lifting his chin up.

“more…” he said, looking at you with tearing eyes. “please…”

you grinned, immediately delivering his request. the series of slaps to his cheeks were fast, but precise, making him moan loudly every time your palm hit his skin. he has never had anyone treat him this rough. you’ve kept slapping him until you saw actual tears running down his cheeks. but even then he didn’t say a word, letting you destroy his face.

the result of your work was clear — red burning cheeks with traces of tears on them and swollen lips that he kept biting to muffle his moans.

your fingertips slowly grazed over the erection that’s been straining against his pants for a while now. he groaned at the feeling.

“aw, have you been hard this whole time?” you purred out and he growled again. your head was spinning at the sensation of sudden control. your boyfriend was all yours at it was driving you crazy.

“don’t act like you hadn’t noticed… fuck!” he exclaimed as you squeezed his cock hard through the fabric. “babe, please…”

“please what?” your hand rested right on top of his crotch, making him squirm uncontrollably.

“please, use me.“ seungmin’s mouth immediately fell open and his tongue lolled out in obedience.

you shook your head in disappointment. “i need words, min.”

seungmin blinked a couple times before answering. “f-fuck my face pl-please.”

“of course, baby.” you smiled, leaving a peck on his lips.

“just… one more thing…” his ears immediately became crimson at his words. you gave him a questioning look. “there is a… dildo in my drawer. do you mind using it on me? and… handcuffs as well…”

his cheeks were fully blushed by the end of the sentence. you looked at him in shock. no wonder he was scared to have sex with you. there was a lot to unpack here.

“oh…” was all you said making him swallow nervously. “where is it again? in the drawer?”

“y-yes…” seungmin nodded quickly. “are you okay with using all of this?”

“if you are okay with it, i am okay with it too.” you responded, reaching out to the drawer. indeed, there were a bunch of things straight from the sex shop. so much stuff you won’t even be able to use in one day.

while you were preparing everything, seungmin laid on his stomach with his legs spread. his head was spinning; the burn of his cheeks was making his erection grow even more.

you’ve never used handcuffs before, so it took you some time to figure it out. but in the end, you managed to shackle his hands behind his back. at this point you couldn’t tell if the blush on his cheeks was from the slapping that happened earlier, or from the position he had put himself into.

when you took the dildo, seungmin was already breathing heavily. his mind still couldn’t pick up the thought that this was really happening.

his hole was stretching really well and fast. it was obvious that he had used the toy multiple times before. the moans he was letting out were so pornographic that you felt your underwear sticking to your now wet pussy.

it was hard to believe what you were seeing: your boyfriend, your seungmin, nerdy, hates touch, shy seungmin was laying in front of your handcuffed with a dildo up in his ass.

you could tell he was already close just from being in this position. and you couldn’t blame him. that must have felt really good, because he was already whining and jiggling his hips in circular motion.

“aw, are you gonna cum already?” you asked in a pityfull manner. seungmin’s face flushed even more and he groaned, but didn’t stop his desperate movements, only growing more and more impatient.

he was trembling, waiting for your next movement. drools coated his lips, starting to drip down his mouth and onto his chin. you couldn’t see his face clearly from your position, but you bet he was rolling his eyes in ecstasy. his cock was flushed red and leaking with precum, rubbing uncomfortably against the bedsheets under his stomach.

“want to eat my pussy now, pretty boy?” you asked softly, smiling to yourself.

seungmin just hummed, already too dazed to respond from being restrained and filled up.

that was good enough response for you, so you crawled up front and laid with your pussy in front of seungmin’s face.

you didn’t even have to say anything, he immediately attacked his lips to your clit; he wanted nothing more than to please you now.

oh he was so good at eating you out. you tried to stay composed, but were broken so quickly by his skilled tongue. when did he learn all of this?

he was switching between kissing and licking your clit, slowing down and speeding up when needed. he was kinda edging you, but you didn’t mind. the pleasure was flooding your senses, so you just let go.

seungmin was getting himself off by grinding his hips into the mattress. he looked so incredibly hot like this — with your juices dripping down his chin, eyes closed. he was so focused on eating you out.

it took only a few motions of his tongue to send you to your high. you let out a series of loud moans, bringing his head by the hair even closer to your pussy. seungmin came shortly after you, tongue never stopping; he kept fucking into the mattress, the motions helping the dildo hit the prostate. he finally accomplished his goal. he was, for the first time ever, wrecked. but that still wasn’t enough to fulfill his needs.

“can you slap me some more?” he uttered as soon as you let go of his head. “please?”

-> reblog to support me, if you enjoyed reading this and please let me know your thoughts in the comments! ♡

masterlist | taglist

TAGLIST (OPEN): @lvlnijiro @hanjisung-enjoyer @fun-fanfics @soonie1010 @noellllslut @newhope8 @channiebahngswife @chanscappuccino @vivioluh @rockstrhanji @yoontaethings @katsukis1wife @caitlyn98s

#stray kids #skz smut #skz x reader #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut #skz sub #stray kids smut #skz seungmin #valentines collab #be my valentine #skz x y/n

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ghouljams · 1 month

Note

ghoul

ghoul you keep hitting the mark on every one of my kinks

monstrous size differences, seeing ur person as holy, ovul-

its like ur in my brain get out of there before u see something that starts turning these rough military men into men that fear what i want to do to them (the erotica of cyborgs, mechs and their maintenance handler just DOES something to me. someone just turning my screws and fixing my internal wires while i look down at them feeling up my most vulnerable parts. my engineer knowing every external and internal piece of me, my repairman knowing exactly which metal plates are bothering me and which screws need to be tightened more often and which parts i won’t say need fixing but he knows, i want to be known wholly and entirely by someone who can fix me and make me into their own theseus’ ship)

The eroticism of the machine.... thinking about android!Ghost....

He always seems to be hanging around when you're working on other droids or laboring with mechs. He checks over various weapons while you sit crosslegged on the tiled floor surrounded by neatly organized plates and screws. You can feel his eyes on you, but every time you look up at him, he's studying a trigger switch or tipping a gun barrel this way and that. You try to keep your attention on the open chest cavity in front of you. Your fingers trail over wires and trace circuits, looking for the too tight screws and miss-laid paths. It's delicate work, work that takes years of practice to get good at even with natural skill.

You twist to check the diagnostics window running on your bulky tablet, the cords running between it and one of your favorite droids humming with electric life. Binary flickers over the screen, replaced by strings of code as the machine parses and translates subroutines and operating systems. You squint at the glowing green letters, eyes flicking through code as you push your finger against the screen to scroll back up. You lean closer to the open cavity, flick your safety goggles down as you turn your attention back to your hands.

"I don't want to have to shut you down," You tell the droid, "So let me know if your servos start locking up." The droid gives you a thumbs up from their position on the floor.

"Isn't it safer shuttin' 'em down?" Ghost hums from the other side of the room. You ignore him, flicking the spark on your torch until it lights. You need to rewire the auxiliary movement board for the right leg, maybe reprogram the routines that are making it twitchy. You doubt anyone else noticed this bot starting to drag its foot when it walked, but you did.

"Five doesn't like being shut off," You explain, heating the metal connecting the wires to their "hip", "Says the lost time cuts productivity." Which is as close as you've ever heard a bot get to expressing an opinion. Even then saying they don't "like" being shut off is a stretch. Machines don't "like" or "dislike" anything, they simply are. You prod at the loosened wires with a pair of tweezers, pulling them from their places and examining the frayed ends. Definitely need replacing.

"Suppose I can understand that," Ghost grumbles. Again you ignore him. You don't know what he's doing, trying to bait you into a conversation or engage your curiosity, two things you can't afford when you're doing detail work. You solder the other end of the wires, rolling your shoulders to try and get some of the tightness out of them. You really should work on your posture, you're sure you look like a shrimp curled over your work, but you need the leverage.

You sit back, inspecting the freed wires, mentally tallying their length and checking the screen readouts. You set about snipping and stripping new lengths of wire, push a few buttons on your little screen, and feel your shoulders hike up to your ears as you lean to get the new parts installed. You think part of your fascination with machines comes from how repairable they are. You've long since come to terms with the fact that detaching your shoulders and giving them a good scrub down isn't actually possible. Not unless you want to look into cybernetics for yourself, and with the grade of parts the military offers you think you're better off eu natural.

"Still good five?" You ask, soldering in the new wires, you glance at the screen, watching the routines for speech zip across the green.

"Yes."

You smile to yourself. It looks like everything is running normally up top, that's reassuring. You weren't sure if this was a systematic issue or a parts issue, never know 100% until you open up whoever you're working on. You mentally scroll through your project list as you run the wires from the metal "hip" to the central data column. You scratch your tweezers against a bit of flashing, frowning. That shouldn't be there. You wave your torch over the distorted metal, and trying to find the defect. You hear a soft 'click, click, click' like nails flicking against each other as you heat the area.

You're jerked back by your collar as the bot jerks, its defensive system snapping like a bear trap over its open chest. Your heart hammers in your chest, your tools still tightly clenched in your hands, and your breath coming quick with adrenaline fueled fear. Ghost hauls you up to your feet like picking up a kitten, all titanium and inhuman strength getting you to standing. He leaves you to swipe the repair pad from the floor, the wires stringing it to the android shredded as cleanly as your neck would have been.

"Still stubborn enough to get yourself killed," He grumbles, shaking his head, the red glow of his cameras seems almost disappointed under the white skull paint. He tosses you the pad and you fumble to catch it. "Inter-system problem, shut 'em down." It's an order, his voice carrying all the authority it should as your superior officer.

You nod quickly, swallow some of the dryness in your mouth, and punch new numbers onto your little computer. "Um, thanks," You manage, watching him re-assemble his rifle with practices precision.

"Don't mention it." He replies, and you get the feeling he means that as an order too. Don't mention it, don't go spreading around that he saved your neck. Don't try to thank him again and he shoulders the rifle and pushes past you out of the landing bay.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #android!ghost #cyberpunk au #mechanic!reader

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pucksandpower · 11 months

Text

Your Boss Will Do | Toto Wolff

Summary: your (ex) boyfriend screws you over so you end up screwing his boss and find love in the most unlikely of places

Warnings: infidelity (not between the main pairing), attempted violence, and vague mentions of spice

As you stepped out of the taxi, the heat of the sun embraced your skin and welcomed you to the bustling principality where the Monaco Grand Prix was about to take place. This was supposed to be an exciting weekend with a chance to visit your boyfriend, Lucas, who worked as a mechanic for Mercedes. Little did you know that your world was about to be turned upside down.

You had been together with Lucas for two years, and although there were some ups and downs in your relationship, you believed your love was strong. But as you made your way to the hotel, your heart started to feel a strange unease as if something was amiss. Brushing off the thoughts, you told yourself it was just lingering stress from the long journey.

Finally, you arrived at the luxurious hotel which was already buzzing with team personnel and fans there for the upcoming race. The lobby was a sea of energy and excitement but you just could not shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong. Still, determined to see Lucas, you tried to ignore the pit in your stomach and made your way up to his room.

As you approached the door, you heard muffled moans and whimpers coming from inside. Confusion and curiosity gripped you. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether to knock or just barge in, but ultimately you chose the latter, wanting to surprise him with your early arrival.

What you saw upon entering shattered your heart into a thousand tiny pieces. There, tangled among the bedsheets, were Lucas and a flushed woman you had never seen before. The shock paralyzed you as you took in the scene before you — their disheveled clothes, the guilty expressions on their faces, and the unmistakable sense of betrayal that hung heavy in the air.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you stumbled backward. Lucas and the woman quickly separated, faces pale as they realized they had been caught in the act. You turned on your heels, running out of the room, heart pounding in your chest as a tidal wave of more emotions than you could pinpoint flooded your entire being.

With nowhere to go, you found yourself seated at the hotel bar, seeking solace in a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled as you nursed your broken heart, thoughts consumed by the image of Lucas and that woman now imprinted in your brain.

Lost in your despair, you failed to notice the man who had quietly taken a seat next to you. His presence disrupted your thoughts, and you turned to face the tall, distinguished gentleman in a white button down with serious brown eyes and a calm yet intense demeanor. You immediately recognized him from the Formula 1 broadcast on your television screen.

“Seems like you could use a friend,” Toto said, his voice smooth and comforting. “Mind if I join you?”

You nodded, appreciating the unexpected company. Toto ordered a drink and leaned back, his eyes studying you curiously. “I couldn't help but notice the sadness in your eyes. Care to share?”

As the tears threatened to spill over, you found yourself pouring your heart out to someone who was a stranger in all but name. You told him about Lucas, the love you had shared, and the devastating betrayal you had just witnessed. The longer you spoke, the more your voice trembled with pain.

Toto listened attentively, his gaze never leaving your face. When you finished, he reached out and gently wiped away a tear that had escaped your eye. “I'm truly sorry for what you are going through. No one deserves to be treated like that.”

With a heavy sigh, you confessed, “I don't even have a place to stay now. I was supposed to stay with Lucas but I can't bear to be near him.”

Toto's eyes softened with empathy. “You can stay with me. My villa is not too far from here. It's the least I can do to offer you some comfort.”

Surprised by his generous offer, you hesitated. “I don't want to impose.”

“You are not imposing at all,” Toto assured. “Please, let me take care of you.”

A mix of trepidation and desire coiled within you, weaving a web of temptation. In that moment of vulnerability, you made a choice to embrace the unknown and surrender to the passion that beckoned. Nodding in silent agreement, you allowed Toto to guide you away from the bar, leaving behind the splintered shards of your past.

In Toto’s private sanctuary, a world of decadence and desire unfolded before you. The opulent villa, with its dimly lit rooms and plush furnishings, became a playground for stolen moments and hidden pleasures. Each touch, each kiss, ignited a fire that consumed you both — a flame that burned away the remnants of heartbreak, leaving only an insatiable hunger for each other.

Amidst tousled Egyptian cotton sheets and whispered promises, you discovered the intoxicating power of surrender in a dance of passion and vulnerability that left you breathless. Toto explored the contours of your body with reverence, awakening desires you had long forgotten. In his arms, you found redemption, his touch mending the broken fragments of your soul, as overwhelming pleasure mingled with bittersweet memories of the past.

Days turned into nights and nights into a blur of fervid moments and languid mornings. Toto spoiled you with adoration, showering you with gestures that whispered of his devotion. He painted your world with colors that had only existed in dreams before him — the symphony of his kisses, the tender caress of his fingertips, and the way his voice melted into yours during whispered confessions of early love.

Race weekends came and went and your connection with Toto grew stronger with each passing moment. He showed you a different world filled with respect, kindness, and unconditional love. His home became yours as well — a sanctuary where you could heal and rediscover yourself.

Toto’s touch was gentle yet electric, sending shivers down your spine whenever his fingers brushed against your skin. His lips were soft and warm, his kisses both tender and passionate. With each intimate encounter, the tension between you heightened, adding an exhilarating edge to your blossoming relationship.

You were swept up in a whirlwind of romance. Between heated embraces and whispered pleas, Toto convinced you to join along for his travels and soon you were exploring countless cities together, walking hand in hand through the vibrant streets, indulging in exquisite cuisine, and immersing yourselves in the local culture. Toto was a fascinating companion, his stories painting vivid pictures in your mind and his presence making you feel alive in a way you had never experienced before.

As neither you nor Toto had any desire to keep your relationship hidden, Lucas was in for a rude awakening. Consumed by anger and jealousy, he confronted you one afternoon outside the Mercedes garage, spit flying with his bitter words. “So this is what you've been doing while I was working, huh? Sleeping with my boss? I hope you're happy. Keep opening your legs to anyone with some money in the bank!”

His words stung but you refused to let his cruelty break you. Standing tall, you looked him in the eye, your voice steady. “I may have ended up in Toto's arms but I was driven there because you broke my heart into a million pieces. I deserve better than the lies and betrayal you offered me. But in the end I should thank you, because you ultimately led me to the best thing that has even been mine.”

Lucas’ face twisted with rage but before he could respond, Toto emerged from the garage, his presence as commanding and solid as always. “I suggest you leave, Lucas. Your behavior is unacceptable and I will not tolerate it in my team or in my personal life.”

Lucas’ mouth opened and closed but no words came out. His anger turned to defeat as he stormed off, leaving you standing there with Toto by your side. The relief of having Toto’s support washed over you and you clung to him as your knees threatened to buckle, knowing that you had made the right choice in leaving Lucas behind.

From that day forward, Toto spoiled you with love and affection even more than before. He showed you what a true partnership based on trust, respect, and shared dreams should be. He supported your aspirations and encouraged you to pursue your own passions, all while cherishing every moment you spent together.

You stood by Toto’s side, attending races and witnessing the triumphs and challenges that came with the sport firsthand. The fiery passion between you never waned but it was no longer the sole foundation of your relationship. It had evolved into a deep emotional connection — a bond that transcended just physical desire.

You found yourself becoming a familiar face in the paddock and the lively Mercedes garage. The once-foreign territory transformed into a second home filled with friendly smiles and warm greetings from the team. Toto took pride in having you next to him and he delighted in showing you off to everyone watching.

With each race, you became more absorbed into the world of Formula 1. The team welcomed you with open arms, eager to share their knowledge and stories. You listened attentively, absorbing the intricacies of the sport and the dedication that fueled each member. Similarly, they admired your resilience and how you had overcome heartache to find love and happiness again.

The paddock buzzed with whispers and speculation as news of your relationship with Toto spread like wildfire. Some saw it as a scandalous affair while others admired the power couple that had emerged from the ashes of betrayal.

Lucas was unable to escape the reality of your newfound connection. The sight of you and Toto, locked in an embrace or sharing hungry glances gnawed at him like a festering wound. The anger within him grew, fueled by jealousy and entitlement. He resented the fact that you had moved on and found happiness in the arms of his boss.

One fateful day as the sun beamed down on the paddock, Lucas approached you, his face contorted in anger. “So this is what it’s come to,” he sneered, words dripping with venom. “You've officially traded me in for a richer model.”

You remained tall, refusing to cower as he wrongfully projected the blame onto you. “It was never about power or wealth. Toto has shown me what true love and respect look like. He cherishes me in a way you never did and never could.”

Lucas’ rage flared and he lunged forward with misguided fury. “I won't let him have you! You're mine. I won't stand by while he takes you away.”

But before he could reach you, Toto wedged himself between you and Lucas, a protective pillar of strength. “You will not touch her,” Toto pushed your ex-boyfriend back. “Your possessiveness and anger have no place here. Y/N does not belong to you or anyone for that matter. She is free to choose who to love and she has chosen me. If you cannot respect our relationship, I will have no choice but to take further action.”

The ugly expression never left Lucas’ face but he must have recognized the futility of his actions. Toto was nearly a head taller than him and at the top of both the Mercedes and Formula 1 food chain. With one final glare, he turned and disappeared into the crowd of people as his bravado crumbled.

Toto drew you into his arms, holding you close as if to shield you from the remnants of your past. His touch, once filled with merely desire, now possessed a deep set tenderness — a promise that he would always defend and cherish you.

As the season continued, Toto’s devotion to you only deepened. He spoiled you with grand gestures and intimate moments — helicopter rides over breathtaking landscapes, candlelit dinners under the stars, and stolen kisses in the hustle of the garages. He reveled in pampering you, eager to show you what a true partnership built on mutual respect and trust should be like.

It was in the moments away from the track, in the refuge of your private lives, that your relationship truly flourished. Toto was your confidant, your champion, and your partner. His love letters adorned your nightstand, his whispers of adoration reverberated through your dreams, and his touch ignited a passion that transcended feasible thought. In his arms, you discovered the depth of intimacy and connection, where pleasure melded with profound emotion and left you breathless and yearning for more. In the midst of the chaos and adrenaline, Toto became your anchor, grounding you in a love that surpassed all expectations. You navigated the twists and turns of the sport and of life together and faced the triumphs and setbacks hand in hand. The love you shared with Toto was a force that defied all doubts and insecurities, reminding you that you were worthy of happiness and bliss.

While celebrating a victorious race, you relished in the second family that had adopted you. Laughter filled the air as the team exchanged stories and you couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging.

As the conversation shifted to humorous anecdotes, Toto leaned in and whispered in your ear, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Remember the first time we met at the hotel bar? I never would have imagined that sitting next to a beautiful woman nursing her whiskey would lead to all of this.”

You chuckled and playfully nudged him. “Well I suppose we have Lucas to thank for introducing us in his own twisted way.”

Toto raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yes, he was quite the unusual matchmaker. I doubt he expected me to take such an interest in his ex-girlfriend.”

A burst of laughter escaped your lips and you shook your head. “I'm sure he regrets it now.”

Just then, Lewis joined the conversation. He flashed a grin at both of you. "So is it true that Toto stole your heart faster than our car can drive a lap?"

You exchanged a playful glance with Toto before replying. “Let's just say Toto knows how to handle more than just the team.”

Toto shrugged teasingly. “What can I say? I have a magic touch both on and off the track.”

The group erupted into hoots and hollers and, reveling in the well-meaning cheers, you realized that despite the initial heartbreak and turmoil, life had brought you to a place where love and joy prospered. You couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected turns that had led you to where you were meant to be.

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pandoraslxna · 1 year

Text

Special friends – Chapter 3

adult Neteyam x female omaticaya reader

Words: 2.9k

Summary: You just look so pretty when you sleep.

Warnings: explicit smut, friends with benefits, heavy corruption kink, innocent / virgin reader, manipulative behavior, somnophilia, body worship, cum play, thigh job, mild dub/con (because there’s somnophilia duh)

It’s four in the morning.

Neteyam had learned how to tell the time from his father at an early age.

The Na'vi loosely determine the time solely by the rising and setting of the sun, as well as the beginning and end of the eclipse. It was morning when the sun rises, evening at the beginning of the eclipse and so on… It wasn’t very specific.

Of course it was hard to tell the exact time without the use of the sky peoples technology, but his father had taught him the approximate reading of the time based on the exact position of the sun and the moon. And right now, it was probably four in the morning. Maybe five, but that didn’t really matter.

What mattered was, that it was about two hours until sunrise and Neteyam was wide awake, tossing and turning in his hammock and unable to doze back into dreamland, how he so desperately wanted to. Back to the false reality he was so abruptly woken up from, by himself. Where he was with you, touching and kissing and licking and finally filling you up to the brim, stretching you wide on his cock and—

Why did he have to wake up now?

He felt betrayed by his own body.

It was four in the morning and he knew that he should probably go back to sleep– he really wanted to. But he just couldn’t. Not anymore. Not like this.

Neteyam couldn’t ignore how hard he was, flashes of his dream coming back to him in pieces and leaving him hissing as he snakes a hand down under his loincloth to palm at his cock and mutter a quiet curse.

He could definitely take care of this on his own. It wasn’t like he couldn’t just jerk himself off, his minds eye providing him with dirty little images that should be enough to finish quickly and then go right back to sleep, hoping he would dream about you some more.

He knew that’s what he should’ve done.

But his mind is still working on half speed, riddled with sleep and want, the arousal taking precedent over any logic and sense and throwing all caution to the wind. It felt like he was still dreaming when Neteyam found himself at the door to your marui at around four thirty in the morning, his body moving like it had a mind on its own.

When he steps inside, his nostrils flare at the sweet scent of you. You always smelled so nice, he remarked. His sweet little peach. Sweet to touch, taste and smell. He wanted to devour you right then and there.

You were sleeping, obviously. Blissfully unaware of the presence of your best friend in your home.

Neteyam smiled, moving quietly to settle down next to you and brushing a strand of stray hair behind your ear. He knew he should let you sleep. You’ve always been a little late sleepers and it was still so early, not even the sun was beginning to rise, so it would’ve been cruel of him to wake you up just for this.

But he’s so painfully hard and aching, growing more desperate with each second that he doesn’t do anything to quell the burning arousal within him.

There had to be another way, he thought. Another way of getting his release without having to do it himself. A way of feeling you, getting you to help him out without actually waking you.

Neteyam had been the perfect gentleman all this time, but he wasn't sure how long he could hold himself back. You looked so beautiful like this, laying on your back, your hair splayed around your head. You looked like an angel and part of him wanted to see that pure expression on your sleeping form change into something sinful.

His gaze wanders over your body for a long moment, his eyes feasting on every curve and every inch of skin, knowing it like the map to a treasure that he had studied for his entire life. A hand then reaches out for you again, caressing your cheek. His innocent touch soon turns into something more, curious hands gliding along your shoulder and arm, feeling your sides, your soft hips and waist. He doesn’t hesitate to dip down even lower, playing with the strings of your loincloth, loosening it so it falls off of you ever so slowly, like you were putting on a little show for him and he groans at the sight you unknowingly provide.

You were so wet, he couldn’t believe it, soft folds glistening in the dim light of your room. Naughty little peach. What where you dreaming about that could have you this wet? Or was that just because of his hands on you? Neteyam chuckled to himself at the thought.

He had to chew his lip just to prevent another, even louder groan from escaping when he reached out to continue feeling you. His thumb brushed over your clit gently, feeling the little nub twitch right under his finger. It’d be so easy just slip at least one finger into you, with how wet you already were, fill you up so, so nicely…

Neteyams other hand moves further, to massage the squishy flesh of your thighs, feeling your silky soft legs up and down. You were so sleep-warm and pliable, so willing to be manhandled, he thought to himself with a smile.

But then his dream comes to him again.

With a tingling feeling, like lightning up his spine, Neteyam remembers what woke him in the first place. The dream that felt so real, he was sure he would cum in his loincloth at any second. His body was over yours, lips sucking purple hickeys to your neck, while he pressed his cock in and in, filling your tight pussy until there was no space left and you were so wonderfully full of him —your first.

Neteyam lifts his eyes to peer at your sleeping face again, noting your pinched brows and parted lips. He was sure you were still dreaming of something, so deep in your slumber. Breathing deeply, you hadn’t moved or reacted other than a few soft sighs, since Neteyam had started touching you.

All at once, Neteyam feels another flash of heat go through him, when an idea settles in his brain.

Maneuvering your legs, spreading them so he could settle himself between them, might’ve been risky, but he didn’t really have it within him to care. His cock was throbbing with need when he freed it from his restraining loincloth, pumping it with his fist one, two, three times before he moved even closer to you.

He was quick to get into position, desperate, without anyone to tease. Normally, he liked to draw things out with you, liked getting you all worked up and whiny until you were practically begging for him to just do something, but you were so blissfully unaware of any of this right now. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t take it slow.

You nuzzled at your woven sleeping mat and the innocence of your mannerisms and the sight of your cunt made his heart and cock throb all the same.

Neteyam then drapes your legs over his shoulders, your ankles resting against the back of his head while he hugged your legs. He was trying to keep his breathing even as he pushed his hips forward and with that, his hard cock between the soft of your thighs.

"Ohh.. fuuck", Neteyam sighed quietly.

It felt heavenly— the warmth of your skin, soft flesh enveloping his length in the same way a tight pussy would. He could feel your slick covered folds pressed against the underside of his erection, your arousal smearing between your thighs and his cock and oh eywa—

Nothing was ever going to compare, not to you.

Not to your perfect body, as if every part of you was there just to bring him pleasure.

"Fuck, peach", Neteyam breathes out, his voice low and nothing more than a whisper to himself, "You feel so good, I’m- I won’t last. You’re gonna make me cum like this… holy shit."

With an increasing pace, he began to rock his hips back and forth, fucking the space between your legs. To his own delight, you had started to moan quietly in your sleep, as the underside of his cock brushed against your clit over and over again.

At the sound of your first soft moans, his gaze immediately lands on the downright precious scrunch of your face. Brows furrowed, your cheeks now flushed red and bottom lip protruding in a way that almost seemed petulant. You were too fucking cute for your own good, he thought, hoping that your dreams were as sweet as you are.

Neteyams gaze wanders back to the space between your legs, watching how the tip of his cock appears and disappears between them. A short glimpse to your soaking wet pussy has him swallowing back a moan.

Poor thing, he thinks to himself. He seems to have gotten you all worked up. Unable to get what your body was begging for, with the way he was hugging your legs, squeezing them together for his own pleasure. His ears perked at the sweet little whine that trickled out of you when his hips snapped against the underside of your thighs just a little harder.

He was still careful, but there grows a force behind his thrusts, a need desperately restrained because he doesn’t want to wake you up.

Neteyam was gritting his teeth in order not to groan too loud. He could come so easily like that, rocking back and forth, his cock trapped between the plush of your soft thighs, your slickness lubing his length enough to make his movements more fluid. It was perfect, so good. If he closed his eyes for a while, he could imagine you in this exact position, but instead of your thighs, he would fuck your tight little cunt.

Neteyam felt his abs flex at the thought, hips stuttering for a moment because his mind drifts to images of you waking up with him buried deep inside you. He imagines your moans, soft mewls and cries, begging him to make you cum, to fuck you rough and hard, trying to convince him that you could take it, how easily you would cum from his penetration alone– how easily you could make him cum, just from sinking his cock into you.

If your thighs already felt this good, he couldn’t imagine the way your wet, warm and velvety-like walls would feel around him, squeezing him tight and sucking him in. How it would feel like to be the first to stretch you like this, so incredibly tight, you probably couldn’t even take his whole length at first try.

He could feel the last bit of his sanity slipping from his body, his mind going blank as his orgasm approaches at a quick pace. Neteyam watches you the entire time, waiting for signs that you’re waking up, but none of that happens. You were still sound asleep, splayed out before him like some peach flavored desert.

The sound of his cock sliding between your wet thighs was downright obscene and he could practically feel your neglected clit aching for attention, warmth slowly pooling into the pit of his stomach. And with that, he angles his hips to put more force behind his trusts, his length gliding through your folds, the tip of it pressed snugly against your clit, bumping harder against the little nub with every stroke.

Soft mewls turn into moans the harder he fucks your thighs and you begin to squirm in your bed. Neteyams toes curl when he feels your thighs flex and he can’t hold back the deep groan as the pleasure nipped at every sensitive nerve in his body.

Suddenly, and that was purely his own fault and the inability to keep quiet, you begin to stir and squirm. Your hands come up to your face, fists rubbing at your eyes, rubbing away the remaining sleep so you could finally pry them open and figure out what had woken you this early.

"T-Teyam?", a soft voice calls out for him, two big, round, innocent eyes look up and bore right into his soul. Your brows are drawn together, a puzzled look on your face making his heart skip a beat or two.

"Shh, it’s okay peach", Neteyam coos, one of his hands coming to rest on your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin and you instantly lean against his palm. "You’re doing amazing, making me feel so good. Just… just keep still for me, yeah? Don’t move, just stay like that."

With half lidded eyes, you nod obediently, your cheeks flushing a darker shade of red than before and Neteyam groans loudly. Now that you were awake, there was no reason for him to hold back. Immediately, the pace of his thrusts increases, rocking you back and forth on your sleeping mat, punching little moans and huffs of breathe out of you.

"S-Say you love me, c‘mon say it", Neteyam pants heavily, a little short of words as he feels the pleasure rise in his body, "Wanna hear it from my favorite girl. You look so pretty like this, you know that? Feeling so good, fuck, oh fuck, yes."

Both of his arms are back to wrap themselves tightly around your legs again and he turn his head slightly to kiss your calf that’s still draped over his shoulder.

"I love you, Teyam", you whine softly, "L-Love you so much." Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears it loud and clear, his cock throbbing and twitching between your thighs at your honest confession.

"I love you too. So much", he groans, letting his head fall back against his neck and squeezing his eyes closed shut, "M‘gonna cum, peach. Oh great mother, you have no idea how much I just want to– to– f..fuck, nghh, oh shit!"

His body is shaking and trembling with euphoria as his cum splatters along the inside of your thighs, covering your soft stomach up to your navel. Neteyam hears your little gasp of surprise and feels you clench around nothing, slick wetness mixed with cum making the inside of your thighs even more slippery. He lazily thrusts between them just a few more times, until his hips begin to twitch and the overstimulation becomes to much to bare.

Neteyams chest was raising and falling rapidly as he tried to collect himself. He felt incredibly warm and satisfied, his body feeling boneless and flushed with euphoria as he took in the sight of you, while placing your legs back down to the ground. They felt a little numb, all blood rushed to your core at the position they were in the whole time.

"M‘sorry", he finally sighs. But before you can respond, a sheepish grin spreads over his features, fangs poking out between his lips, "Just needed you and you looked so pretty while you were asleep that I really didn’t want to wake you up. But you’re not mad at me, aren’t you? I mean, friends always help each other out, right?"

Neteyam tilts his head to the side, his braids swaying over his shoulder, even more so when he leans down to place a kiss on the corner of your mouth. You shake your head no, eyes fluttering close for a second to relish into the feeling of his lips against you.

"You’re the best. I love you so much, peach. I really do", he says, kissing the tip of your nose next and you giggle. "I love you too, teyam."

"Hmh I know", Neteyam grins even wider, before he sits back up. "I made quite a mess, huh?" He muses with a soft chuckle, running his hands over your stomach as if he attempted to rub his still warm cum into your skin, like it would soak in and ultimately mark you as his.

Your face heats up, a blush spreading over your cheeks once again as you begin to squirm at the sticky feeling of his hands running all over your naked body. Neteyam chuckles lowly when he realizes, his hands coming to an halt at the soft curve of your hips, where he squeezes the subtle flesh playfully, causing you to laugh softly.

"Let’s get washed up, yes?", Neteyam then smiles warmly at you. "I‘ll help you clean yourself and then we‘ll go and get something to eat for my special girl, how’s that sound?"

Images of you bathing in the river, with his hands all over you, begin to flood his mind on an instant. It was almost comically how fast he could feel his cock hardening again. Looking down on you, your pussy still glistening in arousal, pretty lips all swollen and begging to be touched, he’s reminded that you hadn’t finished. A chuckle rose in his chest by the thought of how needy you would be because of this.

Neteyam raised to his feet and reached a hand out to you, the excitement barely hidden on his face, knowing he was about to start a day that will most likely be filled with many, many begs and please for him to make you feel good and so many more moments of you returning the favor to him, because you really were his special girl.

#avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam sully #neteyam #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #avatar neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam smut #atwow neteyam #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x f!reader #neteyam x y/n

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adore-laur · 6 months

Text

HOME IS A FEELING

— former high school sweethearts reunite for a conversation about what went wrong 🌃

——

"Don't turn around."

The vague statement thrown your way sends speculations trickling through your brain. Those three words usually never mean anything good. What is it? Or who is it? Whatever the mystery, it makes you anxious based on your friend's wary expression.

"Just tell me," you say timidly, becoming tense in the diner booth with a forkful of red velvet cake halfway to your mouth. "Tell me so I don't have the urge to actually turn around."

"Your ex," she mutters, never one to beat around the bush, much to your appreciation. "He just walked in. Don't kill me for saying this, but he looks really good."

You kick her foot under the table and sink further into the leather seat. "Why is he here? He's supposed to be in another country."

It's not an exaggeration or falsity. Harry is supposed to be in not only another country but also another continent entirely—the Netherlands, to be exact.

Your friend risks another glance at the front door. "Well, he's back, and it's like he never left. Look at them..." She shakes her head slowly. "Hyping him up like he's a goddamn hero."

You assume she means the people you went to high school with. A hometown get-together with a small crowd of classmates from nearby colleges is being held at everyone's favorite local retro-style diner to celebrate the last week of summer break. It was going swell until Mr. Marine Biologist, who probably makes studying abroad his whole personality, waltzed through the door.

You cradle your left cheek with your hand to create a shield for your face in case he happens to look over. "I'm almost done with my cake, and then we can leave."

"Good luck," she sings. "The only booth open is the one right behind us."

Of course. Sighing, you silently pray that Harry won't come near you. You doubt he'll try to talk to you anyway since it's been complete radio silence on both ends for over two years. You're really hoping the breakup doesn't get brought up.

A sudden and forceful compulsion tells you to catch a quick glimpse to see how he looks, what he wears nowadays, and how he acts when you're not around. It's hard to resist.

"He's coming this way," alerts your friend through a spoonful of vanilla ice cream.

The universe must be listening, and you can't combat the urge anymore. Someone as beautiful as him begs to be looked at. You sure as hell didn't break up with him because he was unattractive.

Subtly peeking to your left, you see Harry in person for the first time in what seems like forever. It's only a short window of time where you can take in his presence as he walks closer to sit with a group of people in the booth behind you.

Black skinny jeans. Nothing has changed there.

Chelsea boots. Since when does he wear those?

A gray, tattered sweater, and a blue beanie. It's summer, for crying out loud.

Most surprising, however, is his hair, which now falls just a tad below his jaw. The same soft curls you would run your fingers through until he fell asleep.

You continue picking at your dessert, your mind running a mile a minute at the sight of him. The fact that he's behind you—thankfully facing the other way—but still inches away nonetheless is nerve-wracking. If you move your head back even the tiniest bit, it'll touch his own.

Did he notice you? Does he know his ex-girlfriend is in the same room and thinking about everything he could be thinking? Like how you never forgot about him as much as you tried to?

He's speaking, but you can't piece together what he's saying because you're too distracted by how his voice has deepened over the years. The rasp and British drawl are still there, and the warmth and comfort of it still make your heart race.

Your friend keeps stealing glances and looking at you with apprehensive eyes that cause prickles of anxiety on your skin. "What?" you whisper.

Before she can reply, you feel something nudge the back of your neck. You strain your peripheral vision and see Harry's elbow resting on the top of your booth.

"Oops, sorry," he says, twisting around in his seat.

You automatically turn and look at him. It's impossible not to since he's like a human magnet for the eyes. His face is so close to you now. Have his eyes gotten greener? Why does he have such beautiful lashes? Does he have more freckles on his nose since you saw him last?

Snap out of it!

"It's fine," you mumble, shaking your head and quickly turning around. Your heart feels like it's in your throat.

Finishing the rest of your dessert, you lean forward so he doesn't accidentally bump you again. Your friend raises her eyebrows at you and taps her foot against yours.

"So, your brother is coming to visit soon?" you ask, ignoring her questioning look and attempting to make any sort of conversation to distract from Harry.

"Yeah, tomorrow. My mom is going to weep happy tears."

"Aw. Remind me to visit her before the semester starts."

The leather seat suddenly squeaks behind you, and your breathing goes uneven for the third time tonight.

"You guys want anything to drink?" Harry asks his group of friends.

They all tell him their desired orders, and shortly after, you see him walk past your booth. He heads toward the counter with long strides and hands he doesn't know what to do with. His back is turned, so you use your chance to shamelessly observe him. He looks different but familiar all the same. He has the same body, although he looks buff. Same friendly personality, although you've missed out on it lately. Same gentle presence, although it wasn't that way the night you separated.

"Didn't you once tell me that he always ordered ginger ale at restaurants?"

You look at your friend, processing her question. "Yes. He never mixed it with anything, either. Just drank it straight up like a freak."

"Gross," she says with a wince. "I think he just ordered one."

Once again, the counter is your focal point; this time, you notice the glass of creamy yellow liquid on it. You internally gag at how Harry could still drink that. Harry then walks back to his booth, skillfully carrying two glasses in each of his hands like he worked as a waiter in his past life. You don't even try to hide the fact that you're staring.

Eventually, he catches your eye and abruptly stops in his tracks. You watch him blink a couple times before he continues to the table and sets down the drinks for everyone.

"I'll grab some napkins," he murmurs, leaving again.

You slide your empty plate toward the center of the table and watch him fumble while taking out napkins from the dispenser. Why is he so nervous all of a sudden?

When he walks by for the second time, he jerks his chin up to the ceiling. You furrow your eyebrows in response.

He nonchalantly repeats the gesture as he starts passing napkins around. You shake your head, nonverbally telling him that you have no clue what he's conveying.

His jaw clenches before he mouths, "Come with me."

"Absolutely not," you mouth back as you fiddle with the sugar packets.

Harry huffs and sits in his seat.

Everything used to be so easy with him.

——

Two Years Ago

It was graduation day, and you were inserting a silver hoop earring in the pierced hole of your earlobe when three thumps gently rattled your bedroom door.

"Knock knock."

In the reflection of your vanity mirror, you grinned giddily. "Come in! It's unlocked."

Harry opened the door with a pout on his lips. "You're supposed to say who's there."

"Wha—" you stammered confusedly, turning around in your chair. "I hate you."

He shuffled inside and immediately bellyflopped onto your bed. "Wow. I missed you too."

"Just kidding," you said, flashing him a winning smile. "You left your laptop charger here, by the way. I set it on the kitchen table."

"Thank you, baby," he mumbled into your pillow.

"Don't fall asleep."

"Mm, c'mere." He lazily patted the space next to him. "Let's cuddle before we have to sit far away from each other for the rest of the night."

"It'll only be for a couple of hours at most," you replied, putting in your other earring. "Don't be so dramatic."

After tidying your vanity area, you stood and slinked into bed with Harry. The lavender-colored sunset filtered through your sheer curtains and created a serene ambiance. Harry's body rolled over on top of yours, his weight providing the perfect amount of warmth and comfort. The scent of his almond oil shampoo reduced your nerves. You reached for your phone and set an alarm for fifteen minutes from now so he would have enough time to get ready, then pulled the blanket over both of your heads, not caring if the hair you spent precious time on became tousled. It would mostly be hidden under the immensely unflattering graduation cap anyway.

Harry's clean-shaven cheek rested on your chest, and he planted a chaste kiss on your collarbone. He had always been the affectionate type. Touch was his love language, and he never failed to fulfill it with you.

Every touch strengthened your love for him. Every touch left you longing for more. Every touch felt purposeful.

——

You swear he's doing it on purpose. You know he is.

Harry keeps leaning his head back until it faintly touches yours. Nuzzling it, if you will. That, or he'll clasp his hands behind his head and loosely twirl a strand of your hair.

This time, he pretends to yawn and stretch his arms before tickling behind your ear. He knows goddamn well it's the place where you're the most ticklish. You pretend to have an itch and bring your hands back to slap his burning touch away, but of course, he takes the opportunity to be a pest and capture your fingers.

You yank them away and clear your throat. "I need to go to the bathroom," you tell your friend before getting up and making a beeline straight to the back of the diner.

When you open the door, you sigh relievedly when you find all the stalls open, and no one is lingering. You pace toward the farthest wall and rub your hands down your face. Two years without Harry, and not a single call or text, only the occasional picture you'd see of him when you caved and scrolled through his social media during particularly lonely nights. Yet tonight, he acts like you're best buds who can tease each other and initiate playful touches like you didn't end on a terrible note that made both of your hearts shatter into smithereens. Maybe this is some bizarre dream you'll wake up from and laugh about later.

You blow out a sharp breath and wash your hands before splashing cold water onto your heated cheeks.

"Were my hands dirty or something?"

Your whole body flinches. Now, he's just plain annoying. How long has he been standing there?

"Why are you in here?" you ask monotonously.

Footsteps come closer. You keep your back turned.

He laughs softly and says, "How've you been?"

Such a master at avoiding questions. "That wasn't what I asked."

"That wasn't an answer," he replies smugly. You can practically hear the satisfied smile in his voice.

"I've been fantastic, Harry," you say, your words laced with petty sarcasm. "What about you?"

"You sound stressed." He's right next to you now. "Is it because of your job? I heard you're an assistant teacher at the middle school."

Your hands grip the edge of the marble sink. "Who told you that?"

"I knew you'd be here," he says, as if it were obvious. "I had to ask people what you've been up to since you clearly weren't going to tell me yourself."

He asked about you? No, that can't be right. Turning to face him, you let your guard down just a little. "I'm helping with the summer school program."

Harry smiles. If you analyze it enough, it almost looks like a proud one. "That's amazing. What grade do you want to teach in the future?"

A conversation with your ex-boyfriend about career aspirations is entirely too casual for your liking. Doesn't he have friends to catch up with? Some ginger ale to drink?

You shrug and truthfully say, "I haven't decided yet. It's a big decision."

He nods, crossing his arms. "You've got time."

Silence hangs except for the drip of the faucet.

"So... I assume you're still studying marine biology?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

He hums an affirmation. "I'm almost done with my bachelor's degree, and then I'll be on my way to becoming one with the ocean."

You almost let a laugh slip out. "Well, I'm sure it's beautiful in Europe. I can't imagine the view every day."

He nonchalantly plucks a stray strand of hair off your sleeve, making your blood rush. "It is, yeah. It gets a little lonely sometimes, but it's been nice to live somewhere so different from what I was used to."

"You don't have a roommate?"

"Nope, just me. I don't really like sharing my space."

Only if it was with you. He's told you that before. Not that it matters now.

"I know. Don't know why I even asked."

It's a bold statement but a tenuous breakthrough in the barrier of the inevitable and awkward breakup conversation you're dreading.

Harry inhales and takes a step closer. "Come up to the rooftop with me. I don't want our first conversation in two years to be in the women's restroom."

You give him an apologetic look and say, "I'm sorry, but I can't. I have to head home soon and get up early for work tomorrow."

He toys with the bottom of your shirt. "Please."

It's a soft whisper that echos in the empty space, a begging tone chipping away at the walls built around your heart, paired with pleading eyes so clear and tender. Harmless.

"Okay." You'll kick yourself later for giving in so easily. "Okay, fine. Let's go." You pull out your phone and send a quick text message to your friend about where you'll be. She'll understand the weight of the situation.

Harry walks out of the bathroom, with you following behind. He takes a sharp right toward the concealed metal stairs leading to the diner's roof. He leaves some room so the two of you can walk side by side, your clothes rustling against each other in the narrow space. The rusty door opens, and you step out onto the flat concrete.

Little squares of light shine from the city buildings far away. They cause a strange feeling to wash over you. It can only be described as a powerful wave of hometown nostalgia, even though you never left. You wonder if it's hitting Harry as well.

He stands by the edge and leans his forearms on the railing, glancing at you with an unreadable expression. Is it reminiscence? Yearning? Regret? All could be the reason for the melancholy shift in energy.

"What did we do wrong?"

——

Three Months After Graduation

The party turned sour out of the blue. Harry's friend hadn't just said what you think he said. It was loud, so you must have heard him wrong. Why didn't he tell you? Why did you have to find out from his drunk friend who's not even close to him?

Harry definitely saw your face drop because he instantly pulled you into an unoccupied bedroom upstairs. You'd been arguing for the past half hour, neither one of you inebriated funny enough, but still throwing words that were more like weapons at each other—launching arrows at the heart, shooting daggers at the eyes, and slashing swords in the Achilles heel.

Your weak spot was him, and you were his.

You stood your ground as you spoke your closing statement with frustrated tears. "I'm never going to see you if you're abroad, so what's the difference if I just leave now and never see you again?"

"Will that make you happy?" He was being stubborn; you were, too. "Because obviously, I don't make you happy enough for this to continue. For us to at least try."

He did make you happy, but anger blindly leads people to say what they don't mean, especially in cases of love.

"Obviously not." Lies, lies, lies. "It's useless when we know it'll end badly."

Harry released a bitter laugh. "Fine. Have it your way."

"Fine," you repeated.

You should have fought for him, but what would have been the use if you had known it would only hurt you in the long run?

He roughly swung the door open and then turned around one last time. "You can come pick up your stuff at my house this weekend. I won't be home."

The door slammed shut, and reality sunk in.

——

The open sign of the diner flickers below.

"We did a lot wrong," you declare defeatedly, standing beside him.

"True, but we were eighteen and didn't know anything about communication or how to balance adult shit."

The conversation is heading toward a place you don't want it to go. "I really don't want to talk about our breakup, Harry. It's in the past. We've moved on."

He shakes his head. "Why? There was no closure whatsoever. I think it'd be good to get some now that we're face-to-face."

In the distance, you watch birds flock on the wire of a telephone pole. "Why didn't you just ignore me tonight? We've been doing fine without each other."

He scoffs quietly and leans his body against the railing. "Really? I was homesick for months because of you. You felt like home to me, you know that. The feeling never disappeared no matter how much I pushed it down."

You throw your arms out. "Then why didn't you call or text me? I would've replied, Harry. I'm not that cruel."

"I thought you hated me," he says. "I wouldn't have blamed you. I just couldn't stand having you hate me, so I thought it'd be easier not to talk to you."

It's the classic tale of a high school mindset. You think you're doing the right thing until it slaps you across the face with the hand of cluelessness. You wonder what would've happened if Harry had reached out. Maybe you could've figured it out.

"I didn't hate you," you admit. How could anyone hate him? "I mean, I might've thought that I hated you, but if anything, I still loved you for way too many months after."

Harry looks like he wants to say something, but you continue. "Like you said, we were young and didn't know how to balance a relationship and our lives outside of it. Two years can really mature a person, and we both needed to do that without each other."

He nods while stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah."

The conversation stops at a dead end. There's nothing else to say since it's a mutual understanding of what went wrong.

The breeze picks up, and you shiver before asking, "How long are you here for?"

He clears his throat. "I'm staying with my mum, then I have a flight back to the Netherlands in a few days. I have to go back for an ecology camp."

"That's nice," you say. A couple of days. That knowledge causes an unwanted sinking feeling to take place in your stomach.

"Do you…" He raises his thumb to his mouth, nervously biting his fingernail. "Can we maybe talk more before I leave?"

It's an open opportunity, but what would it lead to? What would come of it? Would it be worth the pain?

"What's there to talk about? You're leaving soon, and then we'll never speak again."

You've taken logical truth more seriously over the years. You've learned that holding on to false hope is dangerous for the heart and mind.

"That won't happen," he replies with a pensive gaze. "We've grown and know how to communicate now. There's so much we've missed in each other's lives that we can talk about. I don't know where you live or the places you like to go anymore, who your friends are, or what new songs you like to listen to. It kills me."

A shaky breath escapes you. "It doesn't matter. We're not right for each other. Call me selfish, but I don't want a relationship where we barely see each other. I'm sure that's not what you want either."

"So, that's it?" he asks, staring at the sky. "Do you not want to give this another chance?"

You can't imagine a more complicated question to answer, but it seems you've known the answer for a while. Gently grabbing Harry's chin and tilting his face down, you say, "Right person, wrong time. It would never work with the distance, and you know that. Deep down, we both know, as much as it hurts to admit."

"What now? We're back to being strangers?"

"Harry, I don't think we'll ever be strangers. I know too much about you."

You're trying to lighten the mood, but Harry's sad eyes aren't helping at all. Instead, you focus on the stars twinkling brightly across the black sky and the single car driving by on the otherwise empty street. Every second that ticks by, he seems to move closer to you.

"If this is the last time I see you," Harry says apprehensively, "can I hold you for a little while? Give me that, and I won't ask you for anything else."

It'd be foolish to say no, wouldn't it? You need to feel him just as much. He's too significant of a person to let go of without a proper goodbye.

"You can hold me."

And so he does for the last time.

Harry closes the distance and embraces you like he always used to — his cheek resting on your head and his arms completely winded around you, squeezing the sides of your body. Breathing you in like he's scared of losing you. It's just you and him standing on a rooftop and holding on to any last bit you can get of each other.

You're tucked so far into his chest that the only thing you can hear is his heart pounding. He's warm and sentimental, and the nighttime chill makes you melt into him even more. He eases you — every laugh, every tear, every moment you share with him was brought about by the ease of being around him.

"You still feel the same." A pang ripples in your heart because of your own words, and a sob desperately tries to crawl up your throat.

Harry nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Yeah? You still smell the same."

You laugh, but it's choked with sadness. "What, like shitty teen store perfume?"

"No, you smell like home. Like when I used to go to your house for sleepovers, and you'd always light those vanilla candles."

Another pang, this time from his vulnerable confession. "I should go," you say, deterring the conversation from any more agony.

He doesn't argue. "Yeah, me too. I never really liked those people in there anyway."

You smile, stepping away from his arms. "I'll walk you to your car."

He nods, and the both of you retreat down the stairs, exiting the building through the back way to avoid any distractions. After reaching the front of the diner, you find his black Jeep sitting alone in a parking space. It's nice to know he still has it, considering it's a car with good memories, like Harry driving you to school every morning and picking up coffee. Or eating fast food outside the high school after a football game. Or nights of endless kissing and professions of love before he walked you to your doorstep.

Facing him under the moonlight tonight, it's time to officially move on.

"Bye. It was really nice to see you." A tear unexpectedly falls from your eye. Maybe it's due to the chilly temperature, but you know better.

Harry's face crumbles. Your composure shatters.

"Please don't cry," he pleads, biting his lip to stop it from wobbling. However, it's too late, and both of you give in to the misery and drama of it all.

"Now we're both crying."

He rubs his eyes and leans against his car door. "God, this fuckin' sucks."

"We'll be okay," you say weakly. "It's fine. We went two years without each other. You'll forget about me soon enough, and it'll be like this never happened."

You're only trying to convince yourself at this point.

"I never forgot about you. You were the first person I fell in love with. How do I move on from that?"

His choice of words isn't something you gloss over. Is he insinuating that he hasn't moved on yet? Should you tell him you haven't either?

Logical thinking, you mentally tell yourself. Don't say something that will make it harder to leave.

"I have to go home now." But isn't home standing right in front of you?

"Okay," Harry says. "I guess… good luck with everything. I hope teaching goes well for you."

You kick away a pebble on the pavement. "Thanks. I hope you become one with the ocean."

He laughs breathily, his dimples popping out for the first time tonight. He then inhales and gazes somewhere far away as his smile dies. When he looks back at you, he nods once before getting in his car.

"Wait."

He freezes. "Yeah?"

Don't make it harder.

Leave.

Don't hurt yourself.

Yet the way he looks at you is enough to ignore those logical thoughts. You lean forward and kiss his cold cheek, and it's like his entire body deflates under your hesitant touch. "Thank you for making me happy during the time we had together," you say against his tear-stained skin. "I never got to tell you that."

Harry sniffles and nods, then kisses your cheek a little longer and softer.

A lasting pang. A lingering sting. A sharp twinge.

Why?

Because the words he whispers to you cause silent tears to fall down your face when he finally closes the door and drives away.

You still mean so much to me.

——

Opening the door to your bedroom, the silence echoes louder than usual. The small space is where memories with Harry can still be found. There's the blanket he used to lie on, the desk he would sit on to help you study, and the dresser you used to keep his shirts in to wear when you missed him. The most tragic thing is an empty photo book on the top shelf of your closet that was meant to be filled with future road trips that never got planned. Next to it are unused polaroids for dates that stopped happening.

Piled at the bottom are a few that actually got used. A picture of Harry when the both of you went to a homecoming afterparty, and you didn't want to drink alcohol, so Harry drank orange Hi-C cartons with you to make you feel better. A picture of Harry on a floating water bouncer at the lake by your uncle's cabin when you went on summer vacation together after junior year. Your favorite picture of him is when he's turned around in the seat of the school auditorium, smiling widely. It was back in high school when nothing could separate you from him.

The pictures remind you of a time when you were in love—not only with him but with life. They feel like home to you.

That feeling of home seems impossible to catch now. It's like chasing a butterfly that keeps escaping from the loose grasp of your hands because you don't want to hurt it.

Are you the hands, or are you the butterfly?

——

The journal on top of Harry's suitcase mocks him. He shouldn't open it, but logical thinking has never been his strong suit.

The first page has pressed and dried lavender taped onto it from the first date he took you on. The next has your drawings in the margin from when you would steal his journal while he studied. Yet most of the pages are filled with lovesick entries about you.

- January 29th -

Last night, I told her I was falling in love with her. She said no one had ever told her that before, and I couldn't believe it. How could someone not instantly fall in love from the moment she walks into a room?

Then she told me that she loved me too. I swear I almost cried with happiness. She's the one for me. I see us being together for the long haul.

I hope she sees the same thing.

- June 6th -

We graduated! We're finally done with high school!

When they called my name, my eyes went to hers first. She looked so proud of me. I wonder if I could convince her to rent an apartment with me instead of staying in different dorms.

College will be strange, but we'll get through it together. I have no doubt we'll adapt and find time for each other.

I always have time for her.

- August 2nd -

I think I'm going to tell her about the college I chose. She's not going to take it well. It's abroad, but it's the best school for marine biology.

She wants to stay close to home, but I want to get out and travel. There's nothing hard about talking through some of our differences, right? Long-distance relationships can work if you put in the effort. We can do it.

If this ends up biting me in the ass, you'll never hear from me again.

Harry stopped writing in his journal after the breakup. It's almost funny, he supposes. He jinxed it in the last entry. He thought of the worst-case scenario, and it came to fruition right before him only days later.

Blissful ignorance is what he'll call it. Two high school sweethearts who didn't know what would hit them. Foolishly in love and blinded by reality. But the thing is, it's not easy to just move on from it. Especially when he brought those damn vanilla candles from his dorm room to his mum's house so he could sleep better at night.

So he can be reminded of home.

It was never a place when he was with you. Home became a feeling that bloomed without warning. It took him by surprise when he found himself wanting to be around you all the time. His home was entirely, ultimately, and unconditionally you.

Harry closes his journal and brings it with him as he heads out the door to search for a drop of that feeling in the places you used to go.

The places he will write about until his hand aches as much as his heart.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles #adore-laur #home is a feeling

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uglypastels · 2 years

Note

Hi there! Maybe tmi but I’ve been daydreaming of a scenario where you and Eddie have been staring at each other for most of senior year but you’re too shy to approach each other and then you bump into him at school after-hours and suddenly you’re slamming each other into the locker room or AV room or whatever other school setting and having crazy panting feral hot sex. I love your fics so I’d pass out if you wrote something along these lines and then spontaneously combust from horniness

ok this immediately got me inspired to write, even though I told myself "no blurbs until you finish the pirate eddie fic" but fuck it. i had to write this.

warnings: SMUT minors dni! unprotected PIV (female!reader). kinda public?? in a school building but no one's around. swearing. i don't think there's anything else, but I'm sorry I'm tired.

masterlist // inbox // add yourself to my taglist

What were you doing? What in the world were you thinking?

Well, the answer to the first question was quite simple. You were standing in front of the janitor’s closet. It was just the beginning of your free period, when you were supposed to be sitting in the library studying for your upcoming chem final, but it turns out you had more important things at hand.

You looked down at the note in your hand again. The one he had dropped right in front of you just a few hours ago. It had been at your locker, it was early, and you were barely awake, putting away your jacket.

At first, you had thought nothing of it, still trying to get over the fact that Eddie Munson had bumped into you. The image of his flashy smile was still developing in your corneas. So when you saw the small piece of paper, you thought it might have just been some trash he dropped, but either way, you decided to pick it up. Out of mere curiosity, really. You had seen the black pen marks bleeding through it and wanted to know what the school’s freak had to say. And what it was… was quite interesting.

5th period. Janitor’s closet, west. Meet me there.

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, but it couldn’t have been meant for you, could it? Either way, you went to the west hall. You found that janitor’s closet and looked around for anyone. What would other students think if you stood around? Could they tell what you were trying to build the courage up for?

Eddie must have already been inside as the clock on the wall ticked loudly away past the first minute of the hour. You wanted to go inside; you did, but you couldn’t push away the feeling that he might have meant the note for someone else. Had he accidentally dropped it in front of you and been waiting for a completely different person?

So, why the hell did you still knock?

Why even knock in the first place? Why not just open the door? It all felt so stupid, and you felt even sillier when the door opened and Eddie popped out.

He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you inside. It was neither light nor dark in the cupboard. The lightbulb above your head barely gave off any light, but the window in the door was a bit of help. That's when you realised that even though you could not see him there, he had seen you pace about in the corridor.

‘I thought you’d never come in.’ He said with a smile, voice airy, his body inching closer to you with each word. His hands were already setting up their place on your hips, hesitant for your reaction. He clearly had a lot of things on his mind that he wanted to express, but he also didn’t want to push any of your boundaries. You could tell just by how his breath hitched in anticipation, how he dragged his tongue over his bottom lip.

‘I– I thought you might have given me the note by accident.’ you placed your hand over his chest. Just that feeling alone, even with the many layers of his clothing between you, it made you melt. Of course, the room was small, with no proper air circulation, so that might have been why you felt so hot, but something in you told you that might not have been entirely it. He chuckled at your confession.

‘Who else would it have been for?’ His nose brushed over your cheek, his words hitting your hot skin as he spoke. He was about to move away, but you mirrored his actions right in sync, crashing your lips to his, breaking the dam of feeling and need that had been building between the two of you for the last few weeks.

It all started with innocent looks across the room—a smile, a wink.

But it all gradually escalated in subtle ways. No matter how much you would have wanted to, you never dared to take it any further than this. And neither could Eddie. He was a person who was very loud and boisterous, but at times he could shut down and close off. At times, for example, when he was struck by you looking directly at him from your cafeteria table. How he had wanted to walk up to you, tell you everything he had wanted to say each time he saw you, but all the words collapsed in his mind as soon as you actually showed up in front of him. And pretty much the same happened to you.

Maybe that is why you felt like you were being pulled together. This invisible string connected the two of you in ways no one could explain but wouldn’t complain about either.

The last week, in particular, something had been set off in both of you. Nothing you did was particularly sexual, but it got him going, and you could say the same thing about Eddie. Just seeing him sit there, laid back in the chair, legs spread out, laughing at whatever his friends were saying– you wanted to sit in that lap and laugh along with him.

You couldn’t be wearing a cuter outfit, could you? Eddie’s heart was doing overtime in trying to keep him alive at the sight of you. He needed to talk to you, say something about how you made him feel.

That is all he had intended with the note. Just so the two of you could talk. Perhaps the tiny enclosed space of the cupboard in an abandoned part of the school was presumptuous of him. Maybe he should have picked a bit more open space, but in all honesty, he was scared that after talking to him for a minute, you would just laugh in his face for how wrong he had been about you. You being interested in him? Now that would make its rounds around the school in no time.

But then you got into that damn little closet with him, and it’s like all his sanity had left him. He couldn’t compose himself any longer. The feeling of you being so close to him made him haywire in the best way possible, and when you kissed him–

‘Fuck,’ he grumbled from between the kiss. Your lips just parted long enough for a catch of air, but nothing longer than that. The idea that you did want, maybe even needed, him as much as he desired you… he couldn’t comprehend it, really. All he could do at the moment was hold you close, hoping that his hands weren’t actually too tight on your body.

But then you let your body free. Your hand clasped at his shoulder as your leg snaked its way around his. Eddie took the opportunity without hesitation to push you against one of the shelving units. It buckled back and forth, but nothing fell off, so neither of you cared. Instead, he pressed you up against it, holding you up by your legs as you crossed your arms around his neck.

Eddie groaned out, to his own surprise, at you tugging his hair. His hips bucked into yours. Was there any way you didn’t feel how hard he was getting? His mind was becoming increasingly clouded with this visceral and nearly animalistic hunger for you. The kisses were getting sloppier by the second when you started pushing the denim vest off his arms.

The untangling clothes of your bodies was a challenge, but you got there in the end, only getting rid of the most necessary parts. So, naturally, Eddie’s vest and jacket had to go so that he could pull his shirt off. You hiked up your shirt, revealing your bra and pulled your skirt up your legs, while Eddie unbuckled his trousers and let them drop to his ankles, together with his underwear. As it continued, neither of you could explain what came over you.

He reached his hand to play with your cunt over your panties, but you scolded him.

‘No time.’ there wasn’t. You weren’t sure how much time there was left before you had to get to your next class. There was no need to waste the little time you had on foreplay, no matter how much you wanted it or both of you wanted it.

‘Wouldn’t have taken you for being so bossy, sweetheart,’ Eddie smirked and kissed you before you could respond. Simultaneously, he thrust his cock deep inside you. You would have screamed out in pleasure if his lips had not been on you. The feeling of him stretching you out– it was almost blissful.

‘Eddie, oh my god,’ you grabbed his hair tighter as he kept going. It was something that seemed to spur him on. Eddie Munson liked it rough. Not an unexpected discovery, but maybe how you found out– or the fact you got to experience it first-hand, was a bit of a surprise.

‘C’mon baby, c’mon,’ his voice got deeper with each thrust and groan, mixing with your moans and gasps of pleasure. The shelf to which he had pinned you also kept making noise, and the two of you constantly had to keep pulling yourselves back before everything would topple over and the entire school would hear what you were up to.

You could feel yourself getting closer, and you tried to clarify that to Eddie, but coherent words, or even noises, were too much for your brain at that moment. How he actually managed to understand that was a miracle. He kissed you deeper. Like the ones before, the kiss was full of heat and passion. It was hungry and filthy. Messy.

Your nails scratched over his back; Eddie hissed at the sensation, bucking his hips deeper into you. You had just enough time to open your mouth, where a nearly pornographic moan would escape from if it wasn’t for Eddie’s hand that quickly caught it. He pressed his palm over your lips.

‘Shh, don’t want to get caught, do we?’ he smiled. It was a tired smile, enhanced by the pearls of sweat on his chest and his hair curling on his forehead as he kept on pulling you closer to your climax. He pulled you into it. Tighter and tighter. So tight until it all snapped, and you unravelled in his arms.

Eddie pulled out of you slowly, carefully. He held you until both of you caught your breath and pulled your shirt back over your chest… but not before lightly kissing your breasts. Something you couldn’t help but giggle at.

You took the time he spent getting dressed to regain some energy. Never had you ever been fucked like that before. You could readily admit that. Eddie Munson was… something else, for sure. It was terrific… and yet, when you looked at Eddie, something seemed to be off. He was chewing at the inside of his cheeks, brows furrowed, deep in thought.

‘Something wrong?’ you asked.

‘No,’ is all he said, but you called bullshit. ‘This isn’t how I had… Sorry, I guess, if that was a bit…’ he drifted off, cheeks tinged in a pink hue as he focused on buckling his belt.

‘It was great Eddie.’ You wanted him to know you enjoyed yourself.

‘I just… I don’t want you to think that this is why I told you to come here. I had just wanted to talk, actually–’

‘What did you want to talk about then,’ you smiled.

‘I– I’m not quite sure anymore,’ he chuckled, scratching at the back of his head. The boy was utterly whipped and fucked out. You noticed a lock of his hair sticking out, and without much thought, you walked up to fix it.

‘Well, I’m really glad I came,’ you kissed his cheek, which was burning up, ‘in all senses of the word.’

‘I’d be more than happy to do it again,’ he kissed the corner of your mouth. ‘If you’d let me, of course.’

‘It’s a deal, Munson,’ you told him as you walked out of the cupboard.

Eddie felt like he was walking on a cloud for the rest of the day. He couldn’t believe what had happened. He just couldn’t…. He couldn’t think a girl like you would just do all of that with a guy like him. At one point, he actually started considering he had dreamed it all up. He had probably accidentally fallen asleep during a class or something, and it had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

Easy to say all of those ideas went away the second Eddie opened his locker at the end of the day, and a small piece of paper fell out. Right on the ground between his feet. On it was written:

Tonight, my house.

How about that deal, Munson?

the End

thank you for reading! please reblog and comment (maybe leave a review??) I would love to think what you thought of it <3

taglist in reblog

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #stranger things smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #imagine #blurb

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wndaswife · 2 years

Text

be my baby

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

tags: smut, d/s, infidelity, dumbification, strap-on, masturbation, manipulation, possessive & jealous behaviour, fingering, overstimulation, somnophilia, degradation, praise, mommy kink, dom!stepmom!wanda maximoff, sub!stepdaughter!reader. MINORS DNI.

word count: 12 505

summary: despite her controlling nature and possessive behaviour, your stepmother has always cared for you, and she'd do anything to show you just how much she does.

a/n: this gif makes me feel things

gif credit to creator.

Your stepmother had always been a bit controlling. Your father had never had an issue with it because he saw his wife’s ceaseless coddling of you to be a sign of the two of you getting along.

You had no real problem with her. She was touchy and, at times, overbearing, but she was more concerned with you than your own father, or anyone else, had ever been. Several times during the day when you were doing work in your room, Wanda would come upstairs with a plate of cut and peeled fruit, dinner you hadn’t come down for, cups of freshly brewed tea and coffee. She truly did care for you.

Although completely capable of paying for yourself, Wanda would buy your food and all your things when you went shopping with her. She picked out clothes she imagined you’d look nice in. Once, she held up a skimpy two-piece bikini for you to try on. You flushed bright red and tried turning your focus away from the woman who responded by repositioning the swimwear in front of your face.

She ended up buying it for you anyways when you were looking around the other side of the store.

What was initially seen by you as entirely too questionable and intrusive was eventually meshed into sweet, considerate gestures that made your heart swell and turned your limbs into jelly. It was normal to feel this way, Wanda had told you when you shied away from her wandering hands. This was a typical relationship for close stepmothers and daughters, and you knew nothing else but what Wanda told you when she whispered it softly in your ear as if it was an intimate promise between the two of you.

Wanda would place her hand on your leg under the dinner table, squeezing your thigh occasionally to remind you that she was holding you. The warmth of her curious hands grew to be a comfort, massaging your shoulders while you studied, pulling you backwards against the curve of her body by your hips while you washed dishes.

Despite her evident fondness for you, you tiptoed around your stepmother as stepdaughters often did.

On the night of your friend’s birthday party, you crept downstairs to the living room where you could hear your father and stepmother watching television together. You eyed the front door and all but slithered towards it, your steps muted and your breathing at a halt.

Then, a reprimand from behind you that caused you to restrain a groan, “Is this what you’re wearing?”

You turned slowly, trying to hold on to the little hope you had left that your presence would slip from Wanda and your father’s minds within the next several seconds. When you faced your stepmother from across the living room, her expression was cold and wildly judgemental, the corner of her mouth twitching as she held back further criticism that was no doubt sitting on her tongue, ready to be spat out.

Humming cautiously while you looked down at yourself, you answered, almost too quiet to hear, “Yes…?” But Wanda heard it. Of course she did. You looked back up, every movement slow and careful as to not rile her up. When your eyes found her, she had looked away from you. She was watching television again, your father’s arm wrapped around her shoulders as he called something over to you about being safe when you went out for the party.

But your eyes were on Wanda. Her expression and body language seemed all but docile, but the clenching of her jaw and the tapping of her fingers on the side of her thigh indicated that a significant portion of her previous disagreement towards your outfit remained.

Deciding that you didn’t want to deal with her anger, even if you could push it back for when you came home, you headed back upstairs, trying not to make your contempt evident in the way you dropped your bag right onto the floor before you went to change.

Wanda watched as you went back up to your room, eyes narrowed at your clenched fists. “I’ll talk to her,” she muttered to your father before standing up and following after you. She picked your bag up from the ground, eyes pinned on the stream of light coming from your ajar bedroom door. Once arriving at the top of the stairs, Wanda eyes landed on your undressed body beyond your slightly agape door. Her eyes flashed with mirth before she backed out of sight.

You were in a pretty lace set that Wanda got for you. When she gifted it to you for your birthday, she ensured that she had only wanted to make you happy, and despite your stubborn timidity, you couldn’t hide the way you loved how she took care of you. Wanda took her phone from her pocket and took a few photos of your cute little body, zooming in especially on your ass and the perfect swells of your breasts. Her pretty girl.

Once you had slipped on a black long-sleeved dress that reached your knees, Wanda stepped into your room with your bag in hand. You were standing in front of your vanity, bent over slightly to put new earrings on in the mirror to match your dress.

“Thank you for changing, lyubov,” Wanda said, placing your bag down on your bed. You watched as Wanda approached you from behind through your mirror. Her hips were pressed against your ass and you flinched forward, but your stepmother was quick to place your hands on her waist and pull you upwards so your back was flush against her front. The swift movement made you gasp and Wanda ran her hands up and down your sides soothingly in response.

With her arms still around your body, she slipped a few of her rings from her fingers. Rings held into one hand and her other holding your wrist up, Wanda began sliding her rings onto your fingers, slow and tantalising. Arousal grew within you, you causing you to buck your ass back into her hips. She switched to your other hand, your newly ring-clad fingers holding onto her wrist loosely. When she was finished, she lifted your hands up to kiss your knuckles. “Home by eleven, sweetheart,” Wanda reminded you, her hands returning to your sides as she looked at you through the mirror.

Wanda had set a curfew for you when she married your father. She laid down a lot of rules once she became part of your small family, and your father cared little to pose any arguments to her sudden possessiveness over his daughter. You had initially protested when she enforced things like curfews as you were a college student, and not even your father had set one for you since you were thirteen. But she always found a way to convince you.

Your shoulders relaxed entirely when she cupped your face with her warm hands while you had your foot down in adamant disagreement. She stared down at you tenderly before pulling you into a tight, protective hug. ‘I’m only worried for you, angel,’ she had told you. ‘You’re such a delicate, pretty thing. I’d never be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you.’ You closed your eyes once she finally convinced you, letting Wanda hold you while you finally conceded.

You nodded and turned your head to look at her. Wanda smiled down at you, pride growing within her at your submission evident in the way her eyes ran down your face.

“Come home early, baby. Let’s watch a movie together when you get back. It’s your pick tonight,” Wanda told you. When you nodded again, she let go of you and headed back to your bed to pick up your bag and hand it to you. You missed the warmth of her body, but her arm was soon wrapped around your waist as the two of you left your bedroom to walk downstairs.

You exchanged quick goodbyes with your father before Wanda led you out onto the front porch. She tucked your hair behind your ear and you tensed. Wanda giggled at your timidity. You were so cute.

“Do you need me to give you a ride?” she asked you, running her fingers through your hair. Your eyes avoided Wanda’s as her undivided attention was retained on you.

“Um,” you hesitated, “I’m okay. I’m going to walk to the store and Monica is going to pick me up from there.” Wanda never liked when you brought your friends up around her. You weren’t sure why she detested every friend you’d brought up around her, although you never asked, but she bristled visibly whenever you mentioned them and often snuck in snarky remarks about them at any given opportunity.

“She’s not just going to pick you up from here? She’s making you walk?” Wanda asked, eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed. Her blatant bewilderment at the idea of someone having you walk instead of offering you a ride spread warmth throughout your body. You almost hoped Wanda would pull you into her chest again and comfort you about the smallest things, including having to walk to the convenience store.

‘Oh, baby, it’s going to be okay. You’re a big girl, aren’t you? You can do it, sweetheart,’ she would say, petting your head and muttering sweet things into your ear.

It was normal to fantasise about those things about your stepmother, wasn’t it? Wanda always assured you that it was.

You tried to explain, mentioning your friends as little as possible, “I think I just want to bring a few drinks since I’m coming in a bit late, and Monica won't be able to pick me up for another ten minutes.”

“Let me drive you instead. You don’t have to wait for Monica,” Wanda insisted. There was something possessive about her offer, but you disregarded it.

“No, it’s alright, really,” you replied. “I need the walk.”

She raised her hands in surrender. “Okay. Fine,” she gave in. “Text me the address of the party, please. Now. So you don't forget to do it later.”

You tried to restrain your fingers’ trembling as you acted quickly in response to Wanda’s demand, taking your phone out of your pocket and opening your conversation up with her. You typed in the address and you could feel Wanda watching you as you did. Once it was sent, your stepmother pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“That’s a good girl,” she praised. You blushed and hid your reddened face from her. Wanda cupped your cheek. “Be safe. Text me if you need anything.”

Monica picked you up at the store after you bought a case of beer. The party was as good as parties typically were when you met up with your closest friends. You had a fun, easy time with them, dodging needy men and drinking enough that the hours slipped into minutes. Wanda’s curfew sped past you, forgotten in the myriad of flashing lights and perpetual movement that meshed together in the pocket of time that was a party.

Pulling you back down to the ground where time suddenly returned to existence, Wanda forced her way through the party you were at. The moment she stepped through the crowd and laid her eyes on you, you were circled by familiar and unfamiliar faces and a man feeling you up. His hand was placed on your knee, slowly pushing his way up your thigh and under your dress.

Scattered wolf whistles went unnoticed by you as Wanda pushed through several more people and wasted no more time in storming forward and taking your wrist in her hand. She forced you up and dragged you out of the house. You were being forced away from the man and your friends before you could even protest. Several drinks spilled from the sudden aggressive action until you were finally out of the house and in front of Wanda’s car down the crowded street.

“Wanda? What are you doing here?” you asked, finally coming to your senses and now able to question what was happening.

She opened the car door and shoved you in before getting into the driver’s side. Once slamming the door shut, she took hold of your jaw and forced you to look at her. “I’ve told you that you aren’t permitted to stay out past eleven, and you’ve blatantly disobeyed me. It’s one in the morning and you smell like booze. I come to pick you up, worried for you, and there’s a man sitting next to you with his hand up your dress. First, you won’t let me drive you, and now, this? How am I supposed to react, Y/N?” She lets go of your jaw and she cups your cheek softly.

“Is this what my little girl’s become?” Her very stare is condescending as she looks down at you, eyes narrowed as if she was scolding a child. “I expected to see my sweet angel when I came to see you tonight, hoping that you had just lost track of time like the little bimbo you are, and what I saw was you whoring yourself out like some needy bitch. Is that what you are? Hm?”

“No, mommy, please,” you begged, leaning up to hug her, begging her for her forgiveness. She loved when you called her that, and that was often her weak spot, but Wanda was persistent tonight.

“That’s not what I saw, sweetheart.” Her thumb stroked your cheekbone. “Have any of those men fucked you?”

You shook your head so hard you became lightheaded.

A small gratified smile formed on Wanda’s lips and you felt the weight in your stomach lift. “That’s what I like to hear, baby.” Her hand left your face and she started the car.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper.

Both of Wanda’s hands found the wheel and she drove down the street, heading home. “Yes. But I know you’re just an idiotic, brainless girl. I’ll find a way to expect less of you next time.”

You sunk down in your seat dejectedly, the heavy feeling of having disappointed your mother outweighing any concern of the scene that happened at the party. You hardly thought about it at all as you stole a few glances of Wanda throughout the ride, her expression stone-cold and still. “Do we still get to watch a movie?”

Wanda shook her head and you watched intently as her eyes were focused on the road home. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. Not only do you not deserve time with me anymore, but you need to get your sleep,” she told you.

Even while angry with you, and disappointed, even, your stepmother was still thinking of you. A small smile pulled at your lips as you turned to look out the window, now comfortable with the feeling in Wanda’s car. Things were always better around her. Sometimes, you wondered why you ever chose to do anything but be by her side, to allow yourself to be shaped in her preference- in her hands. Everything was warmer there.

Perhaps, if they heard about it, your friends would ridicule your relationship with Wanda, but you couldn’t find yourself caring about what other people might think of the way she cared for you like you were her little pet. If Wanda asked for it, you’d make her your entire world without a second thought to it, doing nothing without her permission, your head filled with only the warm thoughts she put there.

When the two of you got home, the lights in the house were completely dimmed, making you think about how Wanda must’ve been waiting for you to come home at the curfew time you’d agreed to. You ducked behind her guiltily as she took her jacket off and locked the front door. As if you were a lost puppy, you trailed behind her as she headed upstairs, and eventually, to your bedroom.

“Where’s dad?” you questioned quietly, simply watching as your stepmother dug through your dresser for your pyjamas.

“Sleeping. Where else?” Wanda answered dismissively, tossing your clothes on your bed. She put her hands on her hips and glared at you. You shied away under her stare. If he was asleep, it meant that she had truly been waiting for you, for two entire hours. She really did like spending time with her precious girl. “You need to change,” she told you before leaving your bedroom. “Then come to the washroom.”

You did what she asked of you as quickly as you could, not wanting to keep her any longer than you already had tonight. By the time you joined Wanda in the washroom, you were in the pretty nightgown she chose for you, bought by her a few weeks ago, your hair brushed through. You stepped forward cautiously, but Wanda was quick to put an arm around your shoulders and pull you into her.

“Open,” she commanded simply, looking down at you as your head laid against her chest. You parted your lips immediately and a toothbrush was pushed into your mouth. Wanda began brushing your teeth for you, ridding you of the scent of booze that your stepmother hated when you’d been drinking around anyone other than her. “Since you can’t do anything on your own, mommy has to brush your teeth for you.” Wanda’s words were reprimanding, but the tone she took was soft. Her eyes, looking over your sleepy face as you were hugged against her body, were warm in admiration.

What sounded like an apology was muffled out of you, but Wanda clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, silencing you.

Wanda continued to coo soft praises as she brushed your teeth gently, her arm wrapped around your shoulders securely as your body was hugged against her. “Doesn’t it feel better to be here with mommy, baby?”

You nodded.

She pouted in feigned sympathy, her eyebrows furrowing together as she nodded in response. “See, you’re not so dumb. My pretty princess can be smart, too.”

Wanda pulled the toothbrush from your mouth and rinsed it under the running sink. She leaned you forward, instructing into your ear, “Spit.” You did while Wanda took a makeup wipe from its package and pulled you upwards with an arm around your waist. The cold wipe was pressed to your face, and you realised that Wanda was taking your makeup off for you. You smiled at the realisation and an overwhelming urge to fall forward and lay your head on her shoulder came over you. But you wanted to be good for your stepmother, so you stayed still and closed your eyes while she removed your mascara, her other hand angling your head up with her finger hooked under your chin.

When she was done taking your makeup off, she threw the wipe out and entrusted that you could wash your face on your own. You promised her that you could. She slipped off her rings that you had borrowed from your fingers as slowly and tantalisingly as she had put them on, then left to head into her bedroom.

Everything was excruciatingly silent after that. You turned off the washroom light and stood in the dark hallway, your eyes darting between your bedroom and the other as you wrung your nightgown between your fingers. Taking your bottom lip between your teeth painfully, you took shaky steps forward into Wanda’s and your dad’s bedroom. Your father was sleeping soundly in his bed, shrouded by dark shadows as you crept into the room’s washroom.

Wanda was brushing her hair when you stepped into the washroom. She turned her head to look at you, her eyes running down your body now that she had her first glimpse at you wearing the dress she had bought for you. “What is it, darling?” she asked before looking back over to the mirror. She was wearing a wine red silk slip. You had seen her wear this one before. It wasn’t tight-fitting, but the way the garment fell over the curve of her perfect ass was hard to pull your eyes away from.

You approached her and wrapped your hands around her forearm gently, tugging lightly. “Can you sleep with me tonight, mama?” you requested before resting your cheek on her shoulder and watching her brush through her long hair. She smelled so good. Wanda had slipped into your bed before, the first time being when you had been stressing over an exam. She was holding you against her as you cried, and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep in her arms. After that, it had become a habit for you to ball up in her arms on some overwhelming days, laying your head against her chest as the two of you cuddled together in your bed.

Uttering out a soft ‘mama’ was all that Wanda often needed to be convinced to fall asleep with you, but tonight, she was stubborn. You must have sincerely offended her when you didn’t come home.

“No, baby. Not tonight,” she told you, putting her brush down and twisting open a translucent royal blue case of white cream that she rubbed into her face with her fingertips, then repeating the same motions down her neck. You watched her slender fingers run across her taut skin, the smell of her facial cream making you all the more sleepy. It was always Wanda’s mildly sweet scent that helped you fall asleep when her arms were wrapped around you during thunderstorms. It was also the pressure of her hold, possessive and ever tight. Her soft breathing as she exhaled against your shoulder as she slept. You never realised how dependent you were on her, how vulnerable you were when you were with her.

You tugged on her arm. “Please? I’m sorry for being bad. I just want to spend time with you. Please?” you pleaded, on the tips of your toes as you whined into her ear, watching her expression as she continued with her nighttime routine. You twirled a soft lock of Wanda’s long hair around your finger. “Please?”

Wanda exhaled through her nose and you lifted your head from your shoulder to look at her face. She uttered out a resentful, “Fine.” You wrapped your arms around her shoulders and bounced against her excitedly. Wanda shushed you quickly and you shrunk against her, eyes on her accusational expression and sharp gaze. She was still angry at you, after all, and you were behaving carelessly with your father still sleeping in the other room.

With both your arms dependently wrapped around Wanda’s right upper arm, she led the both of you out of the washroom, turning off the light and stepping out. You ducked your head beyond her shoulder as you crept across the bedroom with her. Both you and your stepmother padded across the room, although she seemed much more nonchalant about it. How many times had she had to do this, you wondered- leave her husband’s side to join you in your bedroom?

Still trailing behind her with your arms wrapped around one of your stepmother’s, she led you into your bedroom and closed your door. You removed your hold from around her gingerly as she shut your bedroom light off, one pretty dim light on your nightstand illuminating your bedroom with warm brilliance. Shuffling against your bedroom floor quickened as you sped-walked to your stepmother and wrapped your arms around her from behind.

“Are you drunk, malysh?” Wanda asked you as she leaned over to pull the blanket of your bed back.

You buried your face in her hair. “No,” you lied.

Your stepmother only hummed sceptically in response. She straightened and allowed you to slip into your bed first. You took Wanda’s hand and tugged her in bed with you. She let you pull her in, her sweet scent gusting against you as she moved in beside you. You wrapped your arms around her immediately while Wanda pulled your blankets over both of you.

“Mommy,” you uttered out happily against her chest. After Wanda reached up to turn off the lamp by your nightstand and got herself settled with her arms around you, you looked up, your head laying between the valley of her breasts. “I’m sorry for making you mad. I just got caught up in the party, mama. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

A hand raised to the back of your head, scratching at your scalp soothingly. “I like to hear you apologise, sweetheart. You’re so cute with those pretty words coming out of your mouth,” she told you, a soft, proud smile beaming down at you. “I don’t want to see you disobeying me again.”

You shook your head. “I won’t,” you promised confidently. When Wanda told you she forgives you, you reached up to rest your head on her shoulder, your hair tickling her neck as you hugged yourself close to her.

Within half an hour, Wanda was holding you from behind, your back hugged flushed against the front of her body as you slept soundly in her hold. After some amount of time, you groaned softly as you began to wake up, eyes fluttering open at the rapid movement behind you.

“Yes!” Wanda hissed out, her breath ragged and her movement tremulous as you felt her jerk behind you, the mattress dipping uncomfortably. Your heartbeat quickened without reason as you listened to your stepmother’s exclamations.

You tried to shut your eyes, to sleep through whatever it was that was happening behind you and never bring it up again, but it was impossible to ignore, much less fall asleep during it.

“That feels so good, puppy. Ah! My pussy is so wet for you,” she mumbled as you listened to the filthy squelching of her pussy. Your chest tightened as the realisation set in that your stepmother was masturbating right behind you, her fingers fucking in and out of her tight cunt as her arm was pressed up against your back. “Y/N, I love how you fuck me,” Wanda groaned, her slip hiked up to her hips and her legs parted.

Your name, as you have heard her say hundreds of times before, was being moaned from beyond her lips as her fingers were buried deep inside of her pussy. You felt pressure build between your thighs the longer you listened to your stepmother masturbate. You debated whether or not it would be better to shift slightly, signalling to Wanda that you had woken up. Would she stop touching herself if you did? Would she continue without a second thought?

Not ready to find the answer, you laid still, silencing your shaky breaths. You wondered how many other times Wanda had masturbated behind you while you were sleeping soundly.

Unbeknownst to you, Wanda’s head was lolled to the side, watching your body tremble as you willed everything in you not to squeeze your thighs together and out at the very feeling that listening to your stepmother fuck her pussy planted within you. She was sure to curl her fingers, parting her digits inside of her so you could hear how wet she was for you.

When she finally reached her hilt, her back arched from the bed, an unstrained cry leaving her as her orgasm washed over her in heavy ripples. You screwed your eyes together tightly at her uninhibited moans and desperate squeals. Her body fell back onto the bed as she panted. It didn’t take long for her to wrap her arm around your waist again, pulling you against her like you had been before. Wanda kissed your shoulder and then your neck, taking your earlobe between her lips and sucking softly. Her hand reached up to grope your breast, kneading her warm palm against you. Her glistening fingers, coated with her juices, tugged at your erect nipple before she pulled your ass against her hips.

Your thighs squeezed together inadvertently and Wanda smirked against your neck before burying her nose in your soft hair and closing her eyes again. As you took in the indistinct scent of Wanda’s pussy, you felt as if though you were embraced by your stepmother in a way you hadn’t ever been before, and you fell asleep once more. Even if she had stuck her own fingers in your cunt, fucking you while you slept, you’d still be able to fall asleep in her arms. You loved your stepmother, and you’d need her no matter what she did.

You woke up without her the next morning, which you realised when you expected to lean back into her warm body and ended up laying back onto an otherwise empty bed. The smell of fresh breakfast filled your room, the soft sizzle of the kitchen stove from downstairs reaching your ears. With an urge to wear your pretty nightgown Wanda had bought you in front of her only, you changed into different clothes before you made your way to the kitchen downstairs.

Wanda was standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand, the smell of bacon and eggs growing stronger as you stepped further into the kitchen. Your father noticed you first with an overjoyous, “Y/N! Good morning!” Your stepmother turned at the mention of your name, a smile forming on her pink lips at the sight of you.

“Good morning, Y/N,” she greeted, her voice smooth as nectar and just as sweet. Her dark brown hair was tied up, stray strands falling down the back of her neck and around her face. She was also wearing different clothes- a loose shirt with black yoga pants. Her attention was turned back to the breakfast on the pan in front of her before recollections of last night came flooding back to you, prompting you to redirect your focus onto something else.

After mumbling out a ‘Good morning,’ in response, your father returned to Wanda’s side, wrapping a hand around her hips and lifting up an empty plate for her to place the freshly cooked eggs on. They looked okay for each other. They always have. A demure couple, ordinary and traditional. Maybe you could rid yourself of the memories from last night, to forget it had ever happened and continue your relationship with Wanda as it had always been.

But the way your name had left her that night. It was your name, not his. Your name in its entirety, every rise and fall of her tongue as she pronounced it without equivocation, without hesitation. Even in trying your hardest to forget what had happened, to chalk it all up to some hallucination, the feeling that bloomed in your chest as you recalled the way Wanda had uttered it out in the way that she did was indelible. The feeling that your name had only ever been composed to exist for Wanda Maximoff to call it out in the dead of the night, her fingers deep inside herself as she allowed her mind to be encapsulated by the thought of you.

You took a seat at the dining table and your dad began placing down the glasses and utensils while Wanda set the plates up. She made your eggs how you liked them, scrambled with peppers and herbs. She came with your plate first, reaching over your shoulder and placing your breakfast on the placemat in front of you. A soft kiss was pressed to your temple before she pulled away to get the other plates, leaving you with shivers running up your body at her gesture.

You poured yourself a glass of water to keep yourself occupied as Wanda prepared the table. She squeezed her husband’s shoulder gently before taking a seat beside you.

“Wanda tells me you had quite the nightmare last night,” your dad noted aloud as he sprinkled salt onto his eggs.

Your teeth bit down on the inside of your cheek to restrain the satisfied moan that you nearly let out as you chewed a forkful of scrambled eggs. Wanda was a great cook. You only had to tell her how you preferred your food once for her to remember it for every home-cooked meal afterwards. “I did, a little,” you answered briefly.

A hand was placed on your knee under the table. When Wanda looked over at you, eyes crinkling slightly with a sweet smile, you knew it was hers.

“I miss when your stepmother hadn’t yet taken my place as your favourite parent,” your father teased. But neither you or your stepmother were listening to him.

Your eyes were focused on the dish in front of you, forking scrambled eggs and bacon into your mouth as modestly as you could with your stepmother’s hand still on your knee, slowly inching up your thigh. She squeezed your upper thigh and laughed richly.

“Y/N’s just a mommy’s girl. So sweet to me,” Wanda giggled, running her hand up and down your clothed thigh. She squeezed harshly suddenly, forcing your eyes to dart up to her. You were greeted with one of her saccharine smiles, eyebrows furrowed with condescending sympathy. “Isn’t that right?”

You nodded silently and went back to eating your breakfast. Pleased with your submission to her, Wanda ceased teasing you for the rest of breakfast apart from her hand being placed on your upper thigh throughout the entirety of the meal.

Wanda was upstairs with your father when breakfast was over, helping him get ready for his late-night shift. For the first time, you wondered what they might be doing, why Wanda had to stay up there with him for so long while he was doing something as trivial as getting ready for work. He was a grown man, wasn’t he? He didn’t need her help.

During your sudden spark of debilitating spite, the knife you were washing slipped from your fingers, nearly slicing the heel of your hand before you recoiled suddenly. Your elbows came into contact with something firm and with one swift movement, Wanda’s arms were wrapped around your waist. She pulled you into her, humming satisfiedly into your ear. You tensed, your shoulders raising to your ears before Wanda pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“Did you enjoy breakfast?” she asked you, her voice a low seductive purr despite simply asking about a meal you shared.

You nodded and Wanda laughed, seemingly quite pleased with your answer. Wanda was a talented cook. She baked on the weekends, catered for special events, and cooked for every meal whenever she was home. She remembered your every preference for every dish, your favourite colours for icing she would decorate your desserts with. Everything Wanda touched in the kitchen would turn into something as delicious as it was beautiful.

You had cooked with your stepmother a handful of times, and it was no less than enchanting; the closest the real world would ever have to real sorcery. You made many of your favourite dishes, as Wanda had insisted you do together, along with several others she believed you would love, which you did. There was something so intimate about spending time with your stepmother, who asked things to have your answers, who listened to what you said to remember each word, who took the time to be with you.

“Wanda…” you whimpered, inhaling sharply as you settled your nerves.

Wanda loosened her hold around your waist to tip her head to the side and meet your eyes with hers as she continued to hug you from behind. “What is it, zaya?” she asked.

Zaya. It meant ‘little rabbit’ in Russian. Wanda told you what it meant when she used the term while picking you up from campus one afternoon. You shrunk in her arms, melting in her hold at the pet name.

You twisted your lips around, directing your focus on the pressurised stream of the hot tap water as you washed the dishes. You had a few glasses left to wash, and you knew you wouldn’t have anything else to distract yourself with once you finished. You tried to get your words out, but you were never the confrontational kind. “Last night-”

Wanda’s eyebrows arched upwards. “Yes?”

“Last night, um… I thought you were… But it could’ve been my mistake,” you hesitated, scrubbing at the rim of one glass with the soapy sponge for far longer than necessary.

“Use your words like a big girl, Y/N,” your stepmother reprimanded. Her hold on your waist tightened as she ran her hands down your sides supportively until her hands were on your hips. She sometimes spoke to you like this, as if you were simply a child in need of discipline. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. Even a little.

After rinsing the last glass, you placed it on the rack by the sink and dried your hands. “I sort of- I woke up in the middle of the night last night and I thought you were…”

Wanda laid her head on your shoulder, looking up at you. “You thought I was what, sweetheart?” she asked you.

You laid your hands on the counter, playing with your fingers. You avoided eye contact with her, knowing that if you had met her eyes, you wouldn’t be able to find words within you to say anything at all. “Thought you were doing something weird,” you replied.

“Weird?” Wanda repeated with a chuckle. With her hands still on your hips, she spun you around so you were facing her, your lower back pressing into the sink. “What do you mean, moya lyubov?” She stared at you for a few moments, her thumb rubbing against your hip. Her eyebrows furrowed together and her head tipped to the side curiously. “You thought I was doing something… dirty?”

Your face flushed and you looked away from her, the pressure of her hands on your hips suddenly overbearing as you squirmed between her and the counter. Wanda pushed herself against you, confining you in your spot.

“Oh, is that it?” your stepmother purred, eyebrows quirked upwards.

On the tips of your toes, you tried looking over Wanda’s shoulder at the staircase in the hallway, the idea of your father coming down to see his wife pressed up against his daughter looming over you dangerously. What you were doing with her wasn’t wrong, was it? But you felt so worried about being caught.

Wanda cupped your cheek with her hand, bringing your attention back to her. “I would never take advantage of you like that, baby,” she cooed. She pulled your head against her chest. Her reaction was overly comforting perhaps, but you closed your eyes anyways, letting your stepmother pet your hair and kiss the top of your head. “It was just a bad dream, sweetheart,” Wanda murmured, “just a dream.”

Your stepmother spent the rest of the day doing errands after she dropped off your father at work. The house was barren and deafeningly silent while you were home alone all day without Wanda; a stark and lonely transition from the night and breakfast you had spent together.

Before she had left, Wanda reminded you that you weren’t allowed to have friends over or leave the house as punishment for your behaviour last night. When your stepmother took your chin in her fingers and pressed a kiss to your forehead before she left, you accepted that you had to atone for what you had done. You wanted to make it up to her.

You could only hope that Wanda came home as soon as she could.

At around five in the evening, you sped down the stairs after you heard the doorbell ring. You opened the front door to see Wanda holding several grocery bags, and you took a few into each of your hands.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Wanda said behind you as she locked the front door and followed behind you to the kitchen. You placed the bags beside hers on the kitchen counters.

“Have you been good?” she asked you, taking your chin in her hand and rubbing her thumb against the corner of your mouth. You nodded with a proud smile. “You didn’t have anyone over, darling? And you didn’t leave the house?” You shook your head. Wanda smiled and pulled you in for a hug. “That’s my good girl.” She kissed the top of your head and spoke again, “I bought condensed milk so we can make kartoshkas this weekend.”

Along with making your favourite dishes, Wanda had introduced you to some meals and desserts she had as a child in Russia. You found that your stepmother was more eager to share things she held dear with you rather than with her own husband, especially when it came to her life in her home country before she immigrated to America.

One afternoon while you were making blinis with her, she told you stories of her life with her late parents and twin brother for hours. She hadn’t visited Russia in years, and she promised when she got the chance to, she would bring you to see her hometown, all the places she’d been missing, the best restaurants and places to sightsee. Your father wasn’t brought up once during the conversation.

Once you put away the groceries, Wanda was pouring herself a glass of merlot while you were warming milk up for your hot chocolate. What you had planned that night was a long evening of studying and catching up on assignments until your stepmother suggested something otherwise.

“Do you want to have that movie night we were planning for last night, detka?” she asked you, lifting her wine glass up to her lips to take a sip.

Nearly burning yourself on the hot mug as your eyes found your stepmother’s, you choked out, “We should.”

Wanda hummed in agreement as her eyes narrowed slightly, watching you closely while you stirred in a few spoonfuls of hot chocolate powder into your hot milk. You headed into the living room first, Wanda trailing behind you, her eyes falling to your ass as you walked ahead of her. She sat by you when you took a seat on the couch and she turned on the television with the remote. “What are you interested in watching tonight, moya lyubov?”

My love. You searched up that definition on your own. You leaned against Wanda and a sudden warmth blossomed in your chest. She wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you close against her so you were tucked against her chest, your mug of hot chocolate balancing in your lap.

“Practical Magic?” you suggested, looking up at her with your cheek squished against her shoulder.

Wanda laughed and you heard her flick through the movies on the television while you continued to look up at her, her eyes crinkling as she laughed. “Good choice, zaya,” she complimented, making you blush and look down to take a drink of your hot chocolate.

When the movie was put on, Wanda set the remote down and wrapped both of her arms around your shoulders. She squeezed you and kissed your forehead. A giggle escaped you and Wanda looked down to grin at your scrunched up nose. She pressed another kiss onto your forehead and her hold on you relaxed before taking her wine glass from off the coffee table to take a sip of it. She rested it on her knee, her fingers wrapped around the glass delicately.

“I’m so glad we could spend this time together, sweetheart,” she told you. You conceded immediately, squirming in your spot as you moved in closer to your stepmother.

An hour into the movie, Wanda placed her second half-empty wine glass on the coffee table along with your mug. She pressed a kiss to the side of your head and placed her hands on your hips. “Come sit on mommy's lap, baby,” Wanda told you, pulling you up before you could comply.

When you were settled on her lap, Wanda’s hands squeezed your hips, then ran down your legs gently. Your hips shifted atop of her when pressure grew uncomfortably between your thighs. “Comfortable, malyshka?” she asked you. Your shoulders raised to your ears at the proximity of her lips to your ear and Wanda kissed your neck in attempts to soothe you, which only tensed you further. Her hands ran up your sides.

“Relax, baby. It’s just me, right?” she cooed into your ear. “Just mommy.”

You nodded, taking in a breath as you leaned back. Your head laid against her shoulder and Wanda smiled.

“That’s right,” she purred. Her hands came dangerously close to your breasts before she wrapped her arms around your waist.

After several minutes of listening to Wanda’s steady, quiet breaths while you watched the movie, her hands suddenly groped your breasts, causing you to gasp and attempt to sit up. Rather roughly, she pulled you back down against her, hushing you softly.

“Just be good and let me play with your pretty tits, baby,” Wanda said, making your entire body freeze as you tried to process the wild throbbing of your cunt while your hips struggled to restrain their bucking, your clit craving friction. “Watch your movie.”

Your nipples were pinched abruptly, a moan leaving you as Wanda tugged at them teasingly. She leaned down, her lips finding your neck as she began peppering sloppy kisses up your skin. Your hips became unrestrained as you started humping your stepmother’s lap, desperate for the icky feeling in your pussy to go away. A hard bulge pressed into your ass when Wanda’s hips bucked upwards, making you whimper.

“Mama, this feels weird,” you mewled as you continued to hump against her leg, her strap pressing into your clit and drawing out moans from you.

Wanda started trailing her kisses up your jaw before she started nipping at your skin, her tongue darting out to run flush up your cheek. “Oh, I know, baby,” she whispered. “But all mommies do this. It’s normal.”

She always knew how to convince you. You shut your eyes, moaning out helplessly as your stepmother continued to grope your breasts and pinch your erect nipples. Her hands slipped under your shirt, her fingers running up your bare stomach before taking your breasts with her hands again. You gasped at the feeling of her hands against you, your nipples pressed up against her palms as she massaged you harshly. Your head lolled to the side, moaning out into Wanda’s chest as you tried to hide the blush of your cheeks.

You’ve been wiggling uncomfortably on top of her strap for the last few minutes of the movie, but mommy kept convincing you to just relax. You weren’t sure what it was that you were humping down on, but you didn’t think much about it while you were rubbing your icky parts over it.

She ran her hands down your arms and you assumed, with a pout, that she was just going to stop touching you all at once, but without warning, Wanda pulled your sweatpants down and pulled your panties to the side, then her yoga pants down to her thighs. The action was so swift that your dumb little bimbo brain could barely register that it was happening until Wanda pushed her cock into your hole.

You cried out, throwing your head back to lay on Wanda’s shoulder as your back arched, simultaneously pulling away from the contact and grinding down into her lap. Her hands were placed on your hips, the heels of her hands pressing into your lower back as she lifted you up and down her strap, each impact grinding the strap’s base into her clit.

Through soft grunts, Wanda husked out into your ear, “Don't fight me, baby. Just be good and let mommy use your tight little pussy.”

You willed everything in you to be mommy’s good girl and take her cock, but you were hanging off the precipice of pain and pleasure, gratification seemingly only reaching you quicker the more you moaned out. Your walls parted as Wanda’s cock slid in and out of you, each buck of her hips into your ass meeting no resistance despite the painful stretching within you as you slowly became accustomed to your stepmother’s size.

The curious thought of where she might’ve kept something like this while sharing the same room with your father was short-lived when Wanda’s hands came up to pull your shirt over your head. Her bucking hips and your arched back maintained the rhythm of the thrusts as your nipples hardened in the living room’s air.

Wanda watched your breasts bounce with each of her thrusts, the impact of fucking her stepdaughter observable in your rhythmic squeals and moans as her cock penetrated your tight cunt. Her hands squeezed your breasts, the harshness of her grip making you whimper.

You couldn’t have ever guessed Wanda would be this rough, even in your deepest of fantasies where your stepmother was fucking you from behind with languid thrusts of her hips. Even in the way her fingernails scratched at the sides of your breasts while she pumped her thick cock into your wet hole, your heart swelled at being Wanda’s only girl. Her pretty, good girl sitting in her lap getting fucked stupid. She loved you with her arms wrapped around you while you slept, while she cooked with you, while her cock was eight inches in your pussy while her teeth sunk into your neck deep enough to bruise.

Mommy loved you.

“My baby is so pretty,” Wanda grunted against your cheek, her breath warm and smelling of merlot. You were completely naked in her lap, your panties hanging loosely around your ankle. Your sweatpants pooled at the foot of the couch, your shirt thrown somewhere across the living room. Wanda couldn’t get enough of the idea of her agreeable little girl bouncing on her cock as her hands fumbled while holding herself up. You were trying to steady yourself with your arms reached back and your hands on your hips.

You whimpered out, “Thank you, mommy.” You felt all warm being complimented by your stepmother. It felt so good to be framed through her eyes, being her pretty agreeable slut just because she wanted you to be. You supposed that if Wanda had bent you over the kitchen table earlier, groceries tumbling to the floor as she pulled your pants down while she spread your pussy lips apart before forcing her cock into your tight pink cunt, you would’ve let her. You would’ve let her bury her fingers in your hole at breakfast under the table, sit her wet pussy on your face while you slept- anything to see her gratified grin as she was able to make you hers in a way no one else could.

Wanda let go of one of your breasts, her hand running down your stomach until her fingers made contact with your clit. Your back arched, a cry leaving you the moment she pressed the pads of her fingers into your swollen nub. With your head having fallen back onto her shoulder, Wanda leaned down to capture your lips with hers. Although she had pecked your lips a handful of times in your sleep, the allure and fascination of kissing you was alike to yours, as for you, this was your first kiss with her. You straightened, trying to bring yourself as close to her as possible.

Her tongue pushed past your lips, exploring your mouth as muffled moans left you. She groaned into your mouth as your hips began jerking forward helplessly once her fingers found a circular rhythm against your clit, causing the base of her strap to grind against her own bundle of nerves harshly.

She pulled away from the kiss and looked down at your face with a proud smile as she watched screwed-shut eyes, your nose scrunched up as your mouth hung open, melodious moans spilling from beyond your soft lips.

“Zaya…” Wanda purred. You hummed shakily in response, opening your eyes slightly to meet a deep moldavite stare as Wanda looked down at you. “I’ve dreamt of fucking this tight little cunt for years, even before I married your father,” she confessed, her hips bucking up into your sore ass with increasing vigour the more she delved into her lewd divulgence, which made it increasingly difficult to keep your eyes open.

Her hand switched breasts and took your nipple between her thumb and forefinger before pinching down and tugging at it. You squirmed and groaned, your teeth clenched as your hips ground down side to side, whimpering at the way Wanda’s cock spread your walls apart even further. “With these tits, you must’ve known that it was only a matter of time until mommy slid her cock in your little pussy, right?” she cooed, her words condescending and sickly sweet as she pounded into you.

You hadn’t known that your stepmother was going to fuck you, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been anticipating it somewhere within you. You’d wake up sometimes with your inner thighs slick with your sticky juices, having dreamt of being bent over and fucked by your stepmother while you slept. But ever since last night, you’d been curious about whether or not Wanda had ever had a part in how icky you woke up feeling sometimes.

Wanda pushed your hips up suddenly to slip her cock out of you. You groaned uncomfortably as you felt empty without her strap in you. Her fingers slipped down from your clit, running through your sopping folds to push before pushing them into your hole. Wanda laughed when your walls clenched around her fingers, your hips immediately grinding down on her hand as you desperately craved more friction from her.

She was quick to appease; the heel of her hand was pressed against your clit to allow her fingers more leverage to fuck into you. You pulled away instinctively at the sudden rough contact against your clit, but Wanda pinched your nipple again, making you fall back down into her lap.

“Does this feel familiar, puppy?” she asked you, a grin pulling at her lips.

You shook your head immediately. “No, mommy,” you insisted. She was asking if you had ever been fucked like this by anyone else, wasn’t she?

Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed together in feigned curiosity. “No? Mommy’s fingers fucking your pretty hole doesn’t feel familiar to you?”

Your eyes fluttered open and you tried your hardest to maintain eye contact with her while you tried to decipher her expression. Her knowing gaze, the small smile on her soft lips. Your eyebrows stitched together as you nearly attained clear realisation before Wanda curled her fingers inside of you, making your eyes shut again as you moaned out.

Wanda hummed, leaning down to nip at your earlobe and press wet kisses to your neck. “That’s right, baby,” she said after catching a glimpse of your expression. “It hurts my feelings that you barely remember your special times with mommy,” murmured Wanda. She kissed your cheek.

You had never seen yourself like this. You nearly couldn’t even recognise yourself while you were crying out for Wanda, your pussy so sloppy around her that both of you could hear every entry of her fingers into your tight hole.

“But you remember a little now, don’t you?” Wanda spoke into your ear. “How I slid my hand through your pretty thighs while you slept before pushing my fingers into your cunt?” You reflected on it through your clouded mind; your sticky parts when you woke up in the morning, the throbbing of your hole even after having been asleep for hours. “And don’t try and pretend you didn’t like it, malysh. If you really didn’t like the way mommy licked your pussy in your sleep, you wouldn’t have came as much as you did. Your cute little moans gave it away, too.”

“Mama…” you whimpered out, suddenly overcome by the warm idea of being Wanda’s even in your sleep. Your cheeks flushed and you turned your head to lay against her chest.

Your stepmother watched as you became embarrassed, finding consolation in burying your face in her chest. “You taste so sweet, don’t you know that, sweetheart?” she pressed on, amused by the way your flushed cheeks peeked out even as you tried your hardest to bury your humiliation. With her hand that had been groping at your breast, she cupped your cheek, forcing you to look up at her with your glassed over eyes and flushed cheeks from the overwhelming jumble of pleasure and humiliation that filled your empty head. Wanda thought you were so cute when you looked like that.

“Why are you embarrassed, baby?” she asked, her fingers’ speed not ceasing for a moment, and if anything, they were quickening. It seemed that Wanda was purposely trying to ask you such loaded questions while being all too aware of how difficult it was for you to answer them. “It’s just me. I love you more than anyone. You don’t have to be all shy around mommy.” Her arm rounded your shoulders, pulling your body against hers. Her gestures were swift and self-assured while you were a mewling mess on her lap, your juices trickling down to Wanda’s wrist and undoubtedly ruining her yoga pants.

You slurred out an apology and your attempt at speaking decently despite being filled by three of Wanda’s fingers pleased her.

“Give mommy a kiss, detka.”

You attempted to lean up and kiss her, but your frail body could barely hold yourself up largely due to how Wanda purposely pushed the heel of her hand into your clit when you were demanded to do things like answer her questions or move your body on your own. Wanda leaned down halfway to meet you and you whimpered into her mouth, struggling to keep yourself from falling back down against her chest simply.

Wanda’s fingers quickened once more. Not only were her fingers picking up speed, but the palm of her hand began pounding against your cunt as she fucked your hole ceaselessly. You had no choice but to fall back down against her chest, your body physically recoiling from the harsh impact against your pussy, but Wanda always caught up with you, disallowing you to part from her contact.

She put her hand on your shoulder unexpectedly and flipped you over, her fingers leaving your cunt momentarily. You were laying over her lap, your ass sticking up in the air. You squirmed, pulling yourself up into your elbows to sit up and reposition yourself from the humiliating pose. Wanda’s hand was suddenly placed against your upper back, the heel of her hand pressing painfully into your spine so you fell forward, your bare breasts pushed flush against the couch cushion.

Three fingers slammed back into your cunt with one swift moment, Wanda’s knuckles coming into painful contact with your folds. You wailed at the contact and gripped the edge of the couch with your hand. You could hear Wanda chuckling cruelly at your cries behind you as her fingers picked up speed, quicker than it had before. Her fingers were twisting inside of you as she entered you, curling periodically as pulled out and making you push your ass back into her hand while she brushed over your special spot deep inside your cunt.

“You’re such a fucking slut,” Wanda spat, her other hand coming down on your ass, making you flinch and try to pull back from her. She put her hand on your hip, digging her fingernails into your skin and pulling you back onto her lap. “My poor, innocent girl pretending her worthless hole can’t take it, but look at this, hm?”

Her fingers sped up momentarily to emphasise the sloshing of your pussy as she fucked you with her fingers.

“What do you think that means, puppy?” your stepmother inquired, looking over at your expression, face reddened and your eyes screwed shut as you moaned, unrelenting, like the whore you were, your body finally being put to use with your pussy being stuffed with mommy’s fingers. When you didn’t respond, Wanda spoke again, “It means you’re a filthy little bitch who likes to get her pussy fucked. I thought you were my innocent little girl, but I suppose I was wrong.”

You shook your head in immediate protest. “No, mommy,” you whimpered, opening your eyes to look back at Wanda. You continued to whine, “I’m your good girl. I’m… I am!”

Wanda raised her hand to interlace her fingers with your hair, scratching your scalp soothingly; a stark contrast from the way she was fucking you with her other hand. “Oh, baby, hush now. I believe you,” she told you, her gaze soft as she looked down at your face pressed down against the couch.

“I wanna prove it to you, mama,” you insisted.

Wanda hummed, reaching her other hand to tuck between your thighs and rub at your clit. “Then cum for me, puppy,” she answered.

You pushed your ass back into Wanda’s hand and she reciprocated by pounding into you ever rougher, making you whimper helplessly as you gave yourself to your stepmother completely. You were entirely at her mercy, and you would be her good girl by letting her do whatever you felt like, and happily, you welcomed it. You had never felt more special when you were making mommy’s fingers all sticky with your cunt juices as much as you did tucking your face into the crook of her neck while you fell asleep in her arms.

Her other hand circled against your sensitive nub harshly, and despite your whining and the way your body squirmed on Wanda’s lap, you continued to take her fingers like the perfect girl you were.

You mewled, screwing your eyes together tightly as you felt yourself closing in on your climax. “Mommy, I feel weird,” you whimpered. Wanda watched as you began riding her fingers, your hips grinding forwards and backwards shakily.

“I know you do, malyshka,” Wanda comforted as your hips began to thrash backwards. To both her surprise and thrill, you reached back and placed both your hands on either side of your ass. Fingers dug into your skin painfully as you pulled your pussy’s folds apart, allowing your stepmother more room to finger you harshly. With the stretch, more of your cunt became exposed to Wanda, causing her to moan out at the sight. She leaned down and ran her tongue down the sides of your stretched out hole. “Cum for mommy, baby. Make me proud,” she said against your pussy.

You inched closer to your hilt, the coil in your lower stomach growing ever tighter, and tighter, until it finally snapped, the feeling of Wanda’s dirty words being spoken out against your cunt helping you get there. A prolonged cry escaped from deep inside you and Wanda grinned, pressing a kiss to your ass as your soft walls clenched around her fingers. Your hands tightened their grips around your ass, your body tensing harshly as your orgasm pushed through you in harsh waves. Wanda continued to finger you, albeit slower, as you came down from your high, and once you did, she slipped out of you carefully, sticky ropes of your juices connecting to her hand as she rubbed your ass soothingly.

You were panting against the couch, your body shaking with occasional tremors as your orgasm’s last waves crashed against you. Your hands were limp by your hips, fingers twitching and your body rising and falling irregularly with your trembling breaths.

“How are you feeling, sweetness?” Wanda asked, leaning to the side so she could kiss your cheek. You nodded, mumbling out something imperceptible. She laughed and raised her hand to hook a finger under your chin, tipping your head to the side to kiss your lips. The faint flavour of your pussy coated the kiss.

You closed your eyes for what felt like several seconds before you were pushed forward against the couch, your ass being stuck up further in the air. Wanda hands were on your waist. “Mama…?” you mumbled, struggling to open your eyes to look back at her. “What are you doing?”

Your stepmother only hushed you in response, her hands smoothing over your ass for a moment before her hands gripped your hips and pulled you against her. Her cock was thrusted into your swollen hole, making you cry out and jerk your body forward, desperate to soothe yourself from the sudden sharp pain. But Wanda was faster, her fingers digging into the hollow spaces by your hips to pull you back into her.

“Ah! Mommy, stop! It hurts, that’s too much!” you pleaded, reaching back to push her hips away. The orgasm Wanda had given you was the first in quite awhile, and the strongest you’d ever had, and she had only been using her fingers.

Wanda leaned forward so her front was cocooning your back, the contact making you feel the slick coat of sweat that had enveloped your body. “I thought you wanted to prove to mommy what a good girl you are,” she reminded you. Her hips had begun to slow to allow you to answer her properly. She reached one of her hands up to move your hair to your other shoulder, allowing her to see your fatigued expression.

You hesitated, “Y-Yes, but-”

“Yes, but what?” Wanda hissed, suddenly impatient as she watched you struggle to form words. “Suddenly you don’t want to be my good girl?” She cupped your cheek, running her thumb over your cheekbone.

“No! I want to-”

“Then let me fuck your pussy the way I want to.”

Wanda watched you a little while longer as you nodded. She softened at your obedience and kissed you. “That’s right. Mommy loves you so much, detka,” she whispered against your lips. You had been told by your stepmother that she loved you countless times before, but it held a different weight now. You smiled into the kiss, happy to be hers.

“I love you too, mommy.” You saw a flash of Wanda’s pretty smile before she straightened and positioned her hips against your ass again.

Her thrusts picked up speed. The pressure of having her cock being buried deep within you was completely different from the feeling of her fingers. Wanda took your hand with hers, placing it on your ass as she continued to use the leverage to fuck you against her strap. She squeezed your hand supportively and tried your best to squeeze back in response.

Wanda’s moans were louder and more frequent than before, and you knew she was grinding her clit against her strap’s harness as she fucked you. The realisation made you all the more wet thinking about how she was just using you as an object to get herself off. “You feel so tight, malyshka,” she told you, her head thrown back as she fucked into your pussy, hands still on your hips.

The sensitive pain that had been shooting up your body was long dissipated into white-hot pleasure, as if your entire body was aflame, every inch of your skin incandescent as you lay limp, every thought you could ever think and anything you could ever feel being placed in Wanda’s hands. It was her authority that rained upon you, her very word that was, and would forever be, your law.

“I’m the only one who’s ever allowed to touch this pussy,” Wanda said. Her hand rounded your hip to rub her fingers against your clit. “Do you understand, Y/N? Repeat it to me.”

You groaned, willing everything in you to answer her. Several seconds was too long of a response time. Wanda slapped her hand down against your ass, making you yelp and jerk forward. She brought you back up to her, the impact of being pressed back down against her hips propelled you closer to your second orgasm. Wanda must’ve caught on because she started thrusting faster, her fingers’ contact against your clit becoming harsher. “You’re the only one allowed to touch my pussy,” you whimpered out finally, a proud chuckle coming from the woman behind you. “Mama, please…”

She squeezed your hand. “Oh, my sweet girl. What is it?” she asked. Although her words were indicative of concern, the way she patronised you was all too audible, and the way she got off on it was even more evident.

“Gonna cum again, mommy,” you cried. You buried your face into the couch cushion, your forehead pressed against the soft fabric. Opening your eyes, you could see Wanda’s knees from between your thighs and the hard work she was putting into fucking you. To think she cared so much about making you feel good made your head all fuzzy and warm.

“You are?” Wanda questioned, her tone alike to that of a preschool teacher talking to a child as they feigned interest in their droning. One of her hands was placed on your thigh, lifting your leg up as her other hand let you lay down onto the couch carefully so your stomach was flush against it. Your body was limp, simply a marionette at the feet of its puppeteer as Wanda turned you around so you were on your back. She let your other leg down, her actions careful so her cock didn’t accidentally slip out of you.

Your arms raised to your stepmother and she placed a hand by your head to lower herself down to your face. You kissed her as if it was an inherent desire to feel her soft lips against yours when she was this close to your face. Wanda parted from your lips to pepper kisses across your collarbone, all the while your legs lifted to press your thighs against her sides.

An erect nipple was taken into Wanda’s mouth. The feeling of her lips wrapped around you, her teeth raking down your bud carefully, forced a long moan out of you. Her hand cupped your cheek gently and you looked down to find your stepmother’s eyes piercing into yours with surprising focus despite the rapid thrusting of her hips and the maintained contact with her fingers against your clit. The sight was that of a woman you had not known before tonight, one who craved you like one did oxygen, a woman, who in desperate desire for your entire being and very soul to be one with hers, suckled at your breasts and fucked herself into your cunt. She switched breasts and licked the long stripe up the other before kissing you again.

Without uttering a single word, Wanda pressed another kiss against the shell of your ear before exhaling breathy moans and grunts against the side of your head as she grew closer to her own high.

Having not enough strength to hold yourself up any longer, your ankles rounded Wanda’s lower back as she rutted into you, crossing them to hold your legs up and pull her closer.

The familiar coil in your lower stomach tightened, stronger than it had before, painful and unbelievably pleasurable all at once. You blabbered out partially-completed words declaring your proximity to your orgasm.

The whole universe dissipated into nothingness when your stepmother whispered into your ear, “Let go.”

You clenched around Wanda’s cock as you came for the second time, every inch of your body locked into tight tremors. Your back arched into her, your breasts pressed against hers, as your orgasm lit you ablaze like Icarus’ zenith atop of the world, enveloped in your wax wings as Wanda held you close, her own orgasm coming over her.

When your body fell back into the couch, shaky pants leaving your lips, you watched your stepmother as her head was thrown back, her body arched atop of yours like a great lioness in a grand stretch. Her moans were long and raspy. Strands of her dark hair stuck to her sweat-slicked forehead. Wanda was the most beautiful woman you had ever known.

Although you had never turned to watch her, what was above you now was wildly different from what you had only heard last night. What used to be a creeping presence, hardly there and nearly chalked up to delusion, was now a mighty force towering above you, indelible once it bled through you and tenacious when it had chosen its target.

Wanda plummeted from her hilt, her forehead resting against yours as she caught her breath while her eyes fluttered shut. Her hands found your arms, gripping tightly. When she opened her eyes, she smiled down at you and you felt as if you had melted into the couch. “My pretty girl. So good to me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and her throat raw. Wanda slipped her cock out from between your puffy reddened pussy lips and unfastened her strap from her hips. You heard it tumble to the living room floor.

“Can you tell me you love me again, mommy?” you asked.

Wanda’s smile widened as she lifted you onto her lap, reaching down to pick your shirt up from the floor. You raised your arms for her and she put your shirt back on. “I love you so much, puppy,” she said, pressing a kiss to your nose when your head popped out from your shirt as she pulled it down your body.

“More, please,” you requested. Your voice was so tiny, your mind all clouded by fuzzy-feeling thoughts. Your body was tired and happily used by mommy.

Your sweatpants were picked up from the floor after you watched Wanda pocket your panties slick with your icky juices. You slipped off of mommy’s lap to stand up. Wanda lowered herself to between your hips and pressed a gentle kiss just above your sensitive little princess parts. “I love you,” she uttered against your skin, looking up at you from between your thighs. The sight made you all blushy. Wanda grinned and kissed your lower stomach. You stepped into your sweatpants and Wanda pulled them up to your hips.

“All mommy’s, right?” Wanda asked after you sat back down in her lap and nuzzled your face into the crook of her neck.

“Right,” you answered proudly. “All mommy’s.”

Wanda felt you smile against her neck and she kissed your forehead, leaning forward while you hung to her like a young koala to its mother. She picked up her glass of wine, taking sips of it while she played a sitcom on the television. You snuggled closer to her, turning your head to watch with her. Your stepmother placed a hand atop your head and scratched at your scalp gently.

"I love you so much, Y/N," she said.

You’d never belong to anyone else.

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

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trulyonlygrapejuice · 7 months

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Needy Puppy

A little one-shot to get back into writing again. I wrote this in about an hour and it's not edited, so don't mind any mistakes. I'm not entirely sure what the story is, it's just a fluffy, silly morning in bed with Harry :]

Warnings: Maybe just puppy/pup as a nickname? Just adding this to be safe haha

Word count: 1011

You blinked lazily, peeking at the rather gorgeous view spread out in front of you, tangled in white cotton sheets. Harry was laid out on his front, his face tucked in the crook of his elbow, arms curled under his pillow, eyelashes still visible where they fluttered gently against his cheekbones. The crease that was so often between his eyebrows was absent and the utter serenity on his face made your heart flutter. Despite the fact he’s been out wandering (or biking) across London most days since the tour ended, you’ve never seen him sleep more. Sleeping in till late morning, a nap in the mid-afternoon… You’ve joked he's turning into an old man, but seeing him being lazy for once is a sight for sore eyes. Sure, you loved seeing him touring and enjoying himself, but it was nice to see him relaxing and lazing about too.

You couldn't help dragging your gaze down from his scruffy and slightly puffy face, studying the broad expanse of his back and smiling slightly at where the white sheets just hid the gentle swell of his bum. You were content to watch the soft rise and fall of Harry’s back as he breathed softly, occasionally snuffling slightly or scrunching up his nose in a way that made your heart soften, a hand drifting to gently ruffle his curls. You slowly dragged your fingers through his hair, careful not to knot the chestnut brown curls, watching his face carefully in hopes of not waking him. He made a soft noise but settled quickly, his body almost melting into the mattress as you scratched gently at his scalp in the way he loved. He almost seemed to purr in his sleep and you suppressed a giggle at how his body shivered when you hit just the right spot. Sometimes you wondered if he was secretly a cat since he adored head scratches so much, he was even napping as much as a cat lately and you once caught him moving across the couch to nap in the sunshine, rather than the equally as comfortable part of the couch that was not near the sunny windows.

Endless time must have passed when a low muffled voice broke the silence. “How long have y’been staring at me? I’m not a piece of meat, y’know.” A pair of bleary, but amused moss green eyes gazed up at you, a lazy grin growing on your face as he leant into your hand, his face slipping out of where it was tucked in his elbow to rest on his forearm, revealing pretty pink lips and endearing scruff. “Not sure. Lost track of time.” Harry’s eyes fell shut again as your hand began to wander, trailing down his neck to trace slow, ticklish circles between his shoulder blades. “I must be very interesting to look at then.” You scoffed. “Are you looking for compliments already, my darling?” A pause. “…no.” You snorted softly, tickling gently at his side just to make him jump, chuckling at the way he whined, trying to wriggle away but getting too tangled in the sheets to move further than rolling on his back. He scowled at you playfully and you cooed teasingly at his pout. “Oh baby, y’know you’re gorgeous.” He huffed, batting your hands away from where they were trying to pinch his cheeks. “Whatever.” You gasped in mock offence, quickly rolling on top of him as he tried to squirm free. The playful teasing ended as he blinked sleepily up at you before pecking your lips gently with a low hum. You smiled tenderly at the gesture, lightly sighing before dropping your head onto his chest with a thump, smirking slightly against his skin when he squawked. “Hey! I was trying to be sweet with you, despite y’pestering me like a needy puppy.” You raised your head to frown down at him, though it didn't seem to work as he sniggered slightly at your affronted expression. “I’m not like a needy puppy.” He gave you a blank look. “Sure, babe, sure.”

He went to poke your nose gently, but you were quick to nip playfully at his fingers, giggling slightly as he sighed. Though you soon fell silent when he huffed, “See? Just like a needy puppy, nipping at people being nice to you.” You pouted at him while he smirked, hands sliding over your sides to lock together at the small of your back, keeping you pressed to his warmth. “You’re mean.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “You started it. Actually…” He trailed off, falling into thought. “I’m not really sure what it is.” You giggled, wriggling slightly to shove your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him and settling against him with a soothed sigh. “I think you were trying to be sweet with me.” Your words sounded muffled and a little slurred against his neck, mostly because you had your face tucked right against him but partially because the warm solidness of him was making you sleepy again. He hummed, a hand shifting to stroke gently at the back of your head, as your eyelids began to flutter. “And then y’decided to be cheeky, eh pup?” The new nickname made you squirm, insides turning to goo as he chuckled lowly. “You liked that one, didn’t you?” You choked a soft ‘no’ against his throat but it was pretty unconvincing and you could practically hear his smirk. “Whatever y’say, pup.” You sighed defeatedly as he laughed at your vexation. “Okay, enough teasing. Go back to sleep, I'm tired after dealing with you bugging me.” You nipped at his throat just to make him squeak, his arm around your waist tightening slightly as you giggled. “You’re just further proving my point.” You scowled. “Shut up.” He pulled you closer. “Go to sleep then.” You sighed, melting into him as he hummed approvingly, rolling you both over to your side, tucking you perfectly against him with a satisfied croon. “Sleep well, sweetheart. Dream of chasing squirrels and big sticks.” Silence. “I hate you.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles headcanons #harry styles fic #x reader

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qyxzun · 23 days

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🕸️┆𝕻𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄.

╰┈➤ ❝𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘𝐘𝐘𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, my name is Y/N L/N. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for about two years, I've been the one and only spider woman. I'm pretty sure you know the rest.

Been fighting other bad guys, helping cats off trees, saving plains from crashing into buildings, you know—the basics.

I lost my best friends when I realized one of them was my nemesis.

but that didn't stop me from fighting for the better!

I just wish I wasn't alone. What if there was another universe where someone understood me?

whatever, probably just my imagination.❞

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝟗𝟐𝟔-𝐙, there was you, sleeping in bed so peacefully before your loud blaring alarm on your phone started to ring for the fifth time. You groaned when the sound disrupted your sleep before you finally picked up your phone to check what time it was. your eyes completely widened. You were late for school.

"Shit!" you cursed, pushing yourself off the bed and running to the bathroom to take the quickest bath you could. Taking off your clothes, dosing yourself with the shower's water, and quickly soaping up your entire body. As quickly as you entered, you almost tripped, going out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your soaked body. You ran back to your room, sloppily but quickly putting on your Brooklyn Visions Academy uniform. You still think that school is elitist, but you can't complain for now.

With no time to spare other than lacing up your shoes and taking your unzipped bag, you ran out of your dorm, forgetting to lock the door. You started to quickly jog your way to the school with your bag slung in front of you in an attempt to zip it closed with your papers and work securely inside. Traffic was booming like crazy, which made you groan impatiently. "My luck should really not be affecting my school," you grumbled.

The light finally turned red, letting pedestrians pass. You pushed past multiple people, apologizing when you ran through them as you continued to sprint to the school's entrance. When you finally stepped inside the school, you ran to your locker, put your bag and stuff away, and sprinted so fast to your class before the bell could ring. You arrived just in time, holding your textbooks by the door while a bead of sweat ran down your neck.

You panted, out of breath from running the entire morning, while your professor looked at you, unimpressed that you were late for how many times?

"Tardy again, Y/N. Keep up if you want to pass this year." She said, obviously hinting that you were someone who didn't care about education. Rude.

You nervously walked to your seat with your heavy books in hand while your classmates watched you sit down. Your professor passed by and gave you multiple papers stapled together as your exam. You skimmed through it, and the questions were almost a big blur for you when you saw how hard you should've studied instead of fighting other criminals on a daily basis. You held your mechanical pencil tight, wondering what to write while your other classmates were all silent and focused on the exams, unlike you, who had no idea. You wrote down what you knew, but you still felt anxious. You really didn't want to fail this exam; it could be your last before you would have to move to another school. You liked that option, but your parents worked too hard, climbing the ranks so you could have an easier life once you passed your exams. Since when was life decided by a piece of paper?

Minutes into the exam, suddenly, you heard a loud explosion near the back of your school. It was muffled through the thick walls, yet it was obvious something dangerous had happened. Your spider senses tingled, and you lifted your head abruptly while your class looked around, wondering what that could be while the teacher noticed their confused and worried expressions.

"Everyone calm down! Form a line and carefully leave the school through the front," your professor ordered, yet most students had already started running out of the classroom, ignoring her orders.

You quickly ran out too, pushing past the rest of the students while you navigated back to your locker. You grabbed your bag from inside and forgot to close it, prioritizing the situation at hand as you went to the bathroom.

"Guess I have to do my job again," you sighed while you quickly locked the toilet stall. You opened your bag, your spider suit folded neatly and tucked between your other textbooks inside. You took off your uniform, changing into the tight spider suit swiftly. You made sure to keep your mask securely on; protecting your identity was the most important part of it.

Finally dressed for battle and your bag slung on your back, you climbed out through the restroom's window, flicking multiple webs out of your fingertips. They swiftly stuck to one of the school's large pillars, and they allowed you to swing away quickly. You swung from building to building easily, reaching the back of the school to see seven vehicles crash together, causing a fire to spread throughout the school's background. Multiple police cars and ambulances were parked nearby, with the paramedics taking as many victims as they could on stretchers and transporting them to the ambulance crew.

You saw many policemen trying to save the injured under the rubble and from the fire as well. You knew they could get in the way of your job, so you created a diversion. You shot a web inside the policeman's car, the sticky string immediately reaching and pressing on the accelerator as it slowly moved forward, catching their attention.

"Woah—woah, woah—hey!!" one of them hollered, trying to reach the advancing car alongside his other colleagues. It gave you enough time to reach the exploded area with your webs.

"This is a whole mess," you mumbled to yourself under your mask as you reached another building's wall. You quickly climbed higher and swiftly shot individual webbing from your fingertips, each web reaching pieces of heavy debris on top of the injured. You held and wrapped all five webs around your palm, pulling the rubble off of the victims with your bare hand as your webs carried them to the side.

The concerned police officers ran to the injured with paramedics, yet the fire persisted, causing another explosion near the colliding cars. You were thinking of a plan to somehow save all of these people while you internally grew more anxious.

"What the hell is causing these explosions?" You grunted, frustrated. You loathed seeing people get injured while you tried to think of something. You jumped from the high wall, plunging down as you shot webs toward the heavily injured near the fire. You pulled them close, carrying more than three people while their blood smeared on your spider suit.

You quickly rested their bodies near where the ambulances could see them before you swung back to the high roof of the building. Your spider senses suddenly tingled before you turned around. On the building's edge, you saw the villain behind it all.

"Who the hell is this guy?" You said, looking down to the edge, and saw a lizard... or a goblin? You didn't know. You shot webs once more in its direction, propelling yourself up before you landed a harsh kick in its face. It let out a loud grunt as saliva was knocked out of his mouth. You sent him flying to another building's wall before he collapsed on the ground.

You walked over to it cautiously, a foot on his chest as you stepped on it harder. You glared down at him, looking down at a vile creature who hurt your people. It coughed, its vision blurry before it looked up to you, it started chuckling with your foot on his scales. "We meet again Peter," it said, smirking.

"Who the hell is Peter?" You retorted, raising an eyebrow behind your mask while it looked at you as if you were playing with his head.

"Oh, don't lie now, Peter... I know all about—" The vile lizard was about to continue, but it was cut off when it saw your features more clearly. You had more of a feminine body. Your muscles weren't as built, but you were strong enough to consider its enemy, like Peter. You had bigger hips and smaller shoulders than a man. Not to mention the obvious, your suit wasn't one it recognized. Its expression turned from smug to confused. You weren't the Peter it knew.

With rage blinding its confusion, it growled and grabbed your ankle with its large clawed hand, pulling your foot off its chest as it caused you to almost lose balance.

"Who are you?" It glared, looking at you with disdain and anger. You, on the other hand, were confused about why it didn't know you when you were literally the spider-woman.

"I'm spider-woman? The hero?" You rhetorically responded before it sneered and tossed you to the side of the building. You reacted quickly as you shot webs at its face, blinding it and pulling on the webs before you could hit the wall with its heavy weight. You adroitly landed on the floor again.

"Okay, dude—that's not nice," you pout under your mask while it growled in frustration when your webs blinded its field of vision. The creature almost tore off its eyes, in an attempt to take the sticky web off its face while it bled. The oversized lizard was raging mad before it charged toward you at full speed. You were about to swing burning wreckage to its face with your webs before a sudden brightness appeared from above.

You both looked up in confusion before you suddenly saw a red web hastily tie your green rival into scarlet webbing. It came out of what seemed to be a bright light formed with hexagons while it glitched. You haven't seen anything like it, thinking it could be another threat. "Argh!!!" The creature thundered before you saw what seemed to be another spider-man go through the portal. He promptly punched the lizard's head, blood coming out of its mouth, before it crashed into another building's wall.

The mysterious man stood up once he apprehended the green goblin with his webs. He tied it with his webs effortlessly while you approached him, his head slightly turning to look at you.

"So, like, who are you?" You asked, putting a hand on your hip before he turned around to fully face you.

"Classified," He spoke with a low tone, keeping it short and cold. You hummed, thinking of who he could be.

"You Peter? That green, uh, creature was looking after Peter or something. I don't know," you shrugged while the man was still silent, like he was judging you secretly with that glare.

You cleared your throat, a bit uncomfortable that he wasn't responding to your question. "Well, anyway, gotta deal with the fire and stuff. Gotta go blue panther." You were about to walk to the fire, mostly to save more victims before he stepped in front of you.

"It's alright, kid. I'll take it from here." He responded, his tone still cold, while his hand was slightly raised, telling you to stand down. Your spider senses tingled after he said that. You looked up behind him as you saw the green goblin manage to escape his webbing and cause more havoc behind the tall, muscular spider-man. In a fit of rage, the creature threw a burning truck in your direction.

"Oh, shit—look out!" You yelled, shooting a web at the spider-man's chest before pulling him away from the landing truck. You quickly moved away as well, but suddenly hissed in pain and fell near the fire. You groaned when you saw your burned forearm and noticed that your spider-suit was covered in cinders after smelling something burning.

"Puta madre--!" the spider-man growled before claws started to grow out of his hands. With animalistic ferocity, he chased after the goblin, shooting a web on his way to get to him faster. His speed never slowed down as his legs ran faster and faster, almost like a car on a highway.

Meanwhile, you winced when you pushed yourself up before your senses started to go haywire again. You turned around and saw more people in the burning debris while firefighters arrived and started to put out the flames. You hastily followed the spider-man from before by crawling up on top of a very tall building. Your eyes quickly scanned the area, searching for him. You spotted the lizard causing more trouble as it climbed up the building in front of you. His claws dug into the wall, causing more debris to fall, almost hitting more pedestrians. The other spider-man turned his head around, watching as the debris started to rain down on the citizens. He was so conflicted; he was so close to catching the goblin, yet the civilians were in danger.

"Fuck!" The man cursed, shooting a web to catch the debris, yet he failed. He grunted, turning his attention back to his target. He continued to chase the green goblin. You, on the other hand, thought fast and jumped down while shooting multiple webs to make a gigantic spider web to catch all the falling debris. Your webbing was strong enough to carry the heavy rubble and the burning damage before it could hit the others. Once you were sure it was holding everything in place, you shot another web, swinging yourself to the injured, who couldn't move. You picked them up— two on your back and one in your arms. They were barely alive when you gently laid them down somewhere more safe.

Your head lifted when you heard a cry. "M-Mama! Please! Help!!" A child screamed while you put all the victims away near the policemen. You turned your head back, realizing one of them was still stuck in the fire. You didn't hesitate to run back, propelling yourself into the air to see where the kid could be. You then saw her crawling up into a ball, a toy in her arms, while she looked around with tears in her eyes, afraid of the fire. She coughed profusely, almost running out of oxygen, while tears prickled her eyes. Even with the burnt forearm, you quickly and nimbly landed in front of her, picking her up easily while she didn't know what was happening. Yet she held onto you tighter than her toy. You shot another web at a building, pulling the two of you up before swinging away to where it was safe.

When you slowly descended to the ground with the child hugging your neck tightly, you saw a weeping woman on the ground with multiple injuries. Your eyes softened, worried behind your mask. You looked back at the kid, noticing she looked like she could be her child. You approached her. "Ma'am," you called out to her, getting her attention before you put down the kid in front of her. She gasped and brought her into her arms, pulling her into a very tight hug while they both wept.

"Thank you," the woman whimpered before looking up at your masked face. "Thank you for saving all of us." She smiled while sobbing, looking around at the people you saved. Even though they were injured, you managed to save all of them. You nodded your head, smiling behind your mask as you flashed her a thumbs-up.

You heard a thump behind you, hinting that the tall spider-man was behind you before you turned around to see him holding the green lizard with his red webs. "Hey," you said, looking up to him. "Caught the lizard?" As you chuckled, you noticed that he still had that unfazed look on his face. It seemed like he was trying to put up a brave front in front of the crowd. After a brief pause, he cleared his throat before responding.

"Follow me," he ordered with a reserved tone as he shot a web and pulled himself up to a very tall skyscraper. You followed behind him, the wind blowing into your face before you landed gracefully on top of the skyscraper.

There, you saw him tap on something on his wrist before another portal opened, the same bright orange hexagons forming the strange entrance while they rotated slowly. Your eyes squinted from how bright it was, while he still had the same expression as before. He got ready to throw the lizard into the portal, while it struggled and squirmed under his tight webs. "This is not the last time you'll see me, Peter!" It yelled, glaring daggers at you and the tall spider-man, until he was thrown into the portal. It created a short blast before the portal returned to normal.

You were quiet for a bit, not knowing what to say. He then turned around to face you, the portal closing very slowly while he approached you. "I'm from another dimension," he admitted while you gasped dramatically, knowing the obvious.

"You are.?! Woahhhhh.." Your eyes were wide behind your mask. He glared at your sarcasm, crossing his arms as it showed his muscles behind the tight suit.

"Take this seriously, chiquilla," he monotonously replied before clearing his throat and looking away. There was a small pause before he spoke. "You showed great abilities when you saved all those people." As soon as you received the compliment, his eyes shifted back to you while yours lit up with joy. It felt like you were a kid again, basking in the glory of a teacher's praise for acing a test.

He didn't say anything else. He looked down at his hand and slowly formed a fist. You watched him, wondering what he'd be doing. You tilted your head to the side, trying to see what was in his palm when it slowly opened. After a few more moments, he opened his fist.

"A watch?" You looked confusedly before he tossed it to you; you easily caught it, observing it. "What the hell is this for?" You asked, looking back at him. You finally noticed that it was the same watch he had on his wrist.

"You'll feel more at home," he responded stoically. He took the watch and helped you put it on properly. "... and we can use the help," he said.

"Who's we?" You asked, bewildered, becoming more baffled than ever. You'll feel more at home, he said. What did that even mean? You took off your mask, getting a clearer view of him, as you had a concerned face. "Who even are you?" You replied like you were annoyed for not knowing the entire truth.

His mask slowly distorted into pixels as it showed his face. "Miguel O'hara." He simply responded, looking down at you with his intimidating, tired brown eyes. He then slowly turned around, walking to the portal that hadn't been closed yet. You watched him enter the bright hexagons before you watched him disappear in front of your eyes.

You gripped the watch tightly.

𝕾𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄.

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jals-stuff · 21 days

Note

hi girlie!! i see that your requests are open... can i pls request hurt+comfort on orter with a flirty girl reader pretty please??? the lack of orter fics is crazy T_T

(guess who btw :3)

why hello there, dear. I'll guess you are m***i, and I agree, there aren't enough works on him.

Anyway, here's a poorly, quickly written one. It is supposedly proofread but it's 5am and I am very eepy!

Just a flirt!

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: none!

“Took you long enough.”

You blinked a few times as he looked up from his paperwork, and mostly at the report you were holding. You had spent longer than necessary on this paper you’d received from Renatus, correcting rewriting the entire thing as it was just full of mistakes and this jerk was too lazy to give you anything that was decent.

“What, did you miss me that much?” You raised your eyebrows with a slight smile as you chuckled to yourself. Oh yeah, that was funny. Orter didn’t seem to find it amusing, as his expression didn’t really change at all. You made your way to his desk and sat on the chair facing it, handing him Renatus’ report.

He decided not to dwell on that stupid remark of yours and started reading the paper, taking notes on the side and making sure nothing is missing. Meanwhile, you were staring carefully studying his expression, and every single small nod he gave while reading.

“Renatus isn't usually this thorough with reports. Colour me surprised.” He blankly said and slid the report inside one of his drawers. You raised an eyebrow and looked at him with a proud grin. “Renatus gave me a piece of scrap, so I rewrote it entirely using the information he gave me.” you stated, crossing your arms as you looked at him, visibly waiting for some praise.

He stared blankly for a second and sighed, adjusting his glasses. “Well done, (Y/N). Very good work.” Though he was praising you, his expression didn't change that much and you could just feel how exhausting it was for him to give compliments.

“Mm, mm. That's right. I’m always good with my work when I know you'll review it…” You trailed off, looking at him with a satisfied smile and a small wink. He raised both eyebrows at your obvious flirting and chose not to comment on it, but you weren't done anyway.

“Anyway, I think I deserve more than just a little compliment! I rewrote the entire thing, you know?” You playfully pouted, putting on a dramatically sad, puppy eyes expression for him. Orter pinched the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh; he knew you wouldn't back down anyway.

“That was amazing work, (Y/N). Rarely have I ever seen a report written with such incredible finesse and precision.” He said blankly again, and it was clear he didn't mean it that much, although there was a part of truth in his words that he refused to admit, even to himself.

“Thank you, thank you.” You chuckled, knowing very well that he was exaggerating, but seeing as he played along, you decided to push your luck a little. “So what, am I getting a reward for all this hard work?”

Even if his expression didn't change, you could read him like he was an open book. “Was the praise not enough?” was probably what he thought at this point. You could've stopped there and brushed it off as a joke but your ego had been flattered just enough to make you bolder.

“How ‘bout… a little kiss? Just on the cheek! Like mwwwah!” you mimicked a kiss while pointing at your cheek and were absolutely convinced that your imitation was flawless. Of course, you were partially joking, and assumed he would just sigh and dismiss your comment, but no such luck.

“I have better things to do than to entertain your delusional little fantasies.” He simply spoke and grabbed his pen again to fill out some of his paperwork. Ouch. But that was his whole personality anyway, of course he wouldn't give you a little kiss, you already knew that, but hearing him say it this way tugged just a tiny bit at your heartstrings.

“No fun.” You sighed and crossed your arms on top of his desk before nesting your chin in-between them. “I am being highly underappreciated here.” You whined dramatically, and then regained your usual smug expression. “That's okay though, you're still my favourite.”

You could tell you were slowly but surely getting on his nerves, and it was kind of amusing to see him have to close his eyes and take a deep breath before focusing on his tasks again. He was already being very patient by allowing you to laze around in his office when you had free time, but he was gradually starting to regret this decision.

You were already done with your work for today, and sat in Orter’s office simply to enjoy his company. He knew, and for some reason he tolerated your presence as long as you didn't disturb him too much.

Was any of your flirting serious? Of course it was. You genuinely liked him! You had been blessed with a sweet voice and a pretty face, and most of your colleagues at the Bureau would've dreamt of being in his place right now. He was very much aware of that, but it seemed off to him.

Even though your coworkers kept flirting around with you and quite literally trying to slide in your pants, you had denied every single one of them. From nameless staff members to the Flame Cane, none of them had your attention except Orter, and all of your flirting surely showed it… or so you thought. Things were awfully different in his mind.

Now, you were just looking at him and his paperwork, fiddling with some trinkets on his desk. Being in the same room as him was almost enough for you, but you kept feeling this physical need to flirt with him, to demonstrate how much you liked him, and you would've thought he had a clue, as you kept making it painfully obvious.

His eyes travelled to your hands as he put one of his papers down. “Stop it.” He ordered, and you immediately let go of the trinket you were toying with in a deep sigh now.

“But I’m bored.” You mumbled, and he put down his pen, his hands now joined on top of his desk. He looked at you for a bit, your almost childish behaviour was starting to irritate him slightly.

“Then leave.” He raised his head slightly as he took off his glasses to wipe them. “Nobody asked you to sit here and disturb my work with your… immature antics.” Ouch, another one, but at this point, you were used to his spiky remarks and simply shrugged it off.

“Aww, but I'll miss you if I leave, you know~?” Again with the puppy eyes, making your expression unnecessarily dramatic again even though you meant every single word you said; but saying it in a completely blank tone would embarrass you way too much. “And I know you'll miss me too, hehe.” You playfully added.

He put his glasses back on and gave you a very stern look and raised an eyebrow very slightly. “Surely, there are other victims that await your attention somewhere else. Why not pay them a visit instead of constantly disrupting my focus?”

He sure was in a foul mood today, wasn't he? But his comment felt like a sharp blade into your stomach and you just needed an explanation for it. “What is that supposed to mean?” Your flirtatious demeanour was temporarily suspended as you weren't quite sure what you'd just heard.

“Are you already done seducing your other colleagues? Must I suffer your incessant flirtations in their place now?” He asked again, and it didn't sound like he was being sarcastic at all, but at least you now knew.

“Orter… are you jealous?” You asked, and your tone was dead serious. It was inimaginable that he could ever feel jealous about something so petty— something you hadn't even done in the first place.

He took a deep breath. “Nonsense. This is wishful thinking; I am merely aggravated by your attempts to turn me into one of these loyal… dogs you have around at the Bureau.” he scoffed, and you could tell he was not pleased with your behaviour.

“...what?” was all you could utter, as you looked at him in disbelief. “You don't know how wrong you are about this, clearly.” You didn't want to be rude to him even though he really deserved it right now, but you seemed to be testing each other's patience.

“How wrong could I be? These people are head over heels for you. Surely, this doesn't happen without a push.” He firmly stated, and again, he was wrong. “Whatever have I done for you to think I’ll be one of them?”

You had always hated arguments, but having one with Orter was the worst that had happened in a while. He was fully convinced that you were but a flirt, a temptress that relished in having people crawl at her feet… but that wasn't it, and these people weren't exactly crawling either.

“How can you say such a thing?” You looked at him in heavy disappointment. “How could you think such a thing, after all of… this?” After all of the obvious flirting you gave him, the endless remarks about how you miss him when he isn't around or your constant winking.

He was just staring in religious silence, thinking you'd give up and simply admit your faults so he could go back to work without any disturbance, but he was once again very wrong, and you needed to justify yourself.

“Why would I flirt with anyone other than you at the Bureau?” you asked, standing up from your chair and placing both hands on the desk in front of him, and he simply adjusted his glasses on his nose.

“Because that's who you are, it would seem.”

You sat back in defeat, looking at him, completely dumbfounded. Every word you wanted to say ended up getting swallowed in the whirlpool of emotions you were feeling, and you couldn't do anything else than stare at him. You could physically feel your heartstrings being pulled now and it was disturbingly painful.

“Is…” you swallowed your emotions down before trying again. “Is that really what you think? That I'm just the type of girl to flirt around and just… sleep well afterwards?” Your tone made it obvious that you were hurt, and it didn't go unnoticed.

But he was convinced. Convinced that your flirting was not a rare occurrence, that it extended beyond the limits of his office, that surely you had already done it before and he was probably just one of those targets you'd use to boost your self-esteem. Even though he was upset with you, his goal wasn't to hurt you, and he decided to avoid your question, not knowing what to answer anyway.

“I don't even know why you're trying to justify yourself that hard.” He finally sighed and grabbed his pen again, which was his way of telling you that this conversation was over and you had to leave; but you wouldn't let go just yet, not before you had said your piece.

“Because it's you we're talking about.” You blurted out, once again flabbergasted by how dense a man could be. “How straightforward do I have to be for you to understand? Have I not been vigorously flirting with you?” You asked loudly, almost laughing nervously.

“You sure have, but—”

“Have I not made it crystal clear that I am into you? That I want to spend time with you?” Oh, you had no will to listen to his flawed reasoning and you just couldn't take it anymore. You were trying your best not to tear up in front of him already, and any more of his baseless accusations surely would make a sufficient push to make you cry.

“I never said you didn't d—”

“Then why are you so blind to my feelings?” You interrupted again, but this time way calmer. You sat back, weakly plopping down on your chair and staring down at his desk for no apparent reason. He didn't really say anything. In fact, he was processing the information you had just given him.

You felt terribly awkward after your half confession, and that clumsy part of your personality couldn't take the silence anymore. “How can someone that dense be in charge of the Magical Power administration..?”

Were you jesting? Probably. But what else could you do anyway? Your main goal was to keep your composure and hold your tears back, at least until you were out of his line of sight. His eyes were on you, they had been the whole time, but you couldn't muster the courage to look at him anymore.

“May I speak now?” He asked, first of all wanting to make sure you wouldn't interrupt him anymore, and only now did it occur to you, how rude you had been these last few minutes. You gave a nod and he sighed deeply, joining his hands against his desk and looking at you with a bit of a softer expression.

“I never said you haven't been straightforward.” He started, and now that you were a bit calmer than before, you could feel your shame grow at his words. “I never said you didn't do all these things you talked about so… fervently. I am merely saying that I do not believe you are exclusively trying to seduce me.”

You sighed again, and he braced himself for another rant but instead of justifying yourself again, you ran a hand through your hair and took a deep breath. Looking all sad and defeated wasn't like you at all, and you needed to prove yourself to this dense, silly, overworked man.

“I don’t get it. Why does the fact that I supposedly am flirting with other people bother you?” You decided to ask, your arms crossed over your chest as you were now back to studying his expression and tone. If you were going to cry, so be it, but you wouldn't go down without a fight, especially for him.

He takes a minute to think, narrowing his eyes slightly. “What bothers me is the way you act with those people, and how you pretend to be innocent afterwards.” You gave him a confused look and he decided to develop. “The way you politely smile at them and make small talk. You're almost inviting them.” He said that while keeping his straight face and cold glare, completely serious.

Oh. Oh.

“So you are jealous.” You couldn't help but smile a little and finally look up at him, only to be met by an utterly confused Orter, ready to absolutely deny your claim.

“I am not jealous, (Y/N).”

“What if I stopped talking to all of them then, would it make things a little better?” You offered, suppressing a smile and pretending to act serious. He seemed to think for another minute again and leaned back into his chair.

“Yes, I believe it would.”

Ah, you couldn’t take it anymore and just burst out laughing; he didn’t seem to like it very much but it was impossible to resist. You just had to make sure again, and so, you slowly regained your composure and caught your breath, then exhaled deeply. “So, let me get this straight…” you started, and he listened. “What upsets you is the fact that I am supposedly flirting with other people, and if I didn’t smile at them or made small talk, you wouldn’t mind my flirting?”

You did not miss that sigh of relief. He adjusted his glasses again and crossed his legs, looking at you very seriously. “I am glad to know that you have ears.” He said blankly, his expression still so cold as his eyes landed on yours again. “Are you making fun of me now?” His voice sounded slightly irritated and you had to calm yourself down again.

“No, not at all. But you just admitted to being jealous so… I win.” You could feel all of your earlier worries dissipating. He wasn't denying it either, instead looking like he was thinking about your reasoning; you had him cornered now.

And the best part about all of this is that he has no clue what he just signed up for.

#orter mádl x reader #orter x reader #orter madl x reader #orter madl x you #orter madl #mashle x reader #mashle #mashle imagine #mashle fluff #mashle x you #mashle x y/n #madl orter #mashle orter madl #orter mádl #mashle orter

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