plscallmeeren

[plscallmeeren]

D I F F E R E N T

Hermione Jean Granger x Lavender Brown x Reader

Request: sorta

Summary: Lavender, your girlfriend, is very affectionate and jealous of Hermione, who is obviously interested in you. You have no complaints as they slowly compete for your attention (not smut, but one kinda steamy scene)

Warnings: Swearing; semi-public stim; if you comment make it make sense I will agree

Word Count: 1.1K+

You laughed at Lavender kindly as she systematically evicted your roommate and her best friend Parvati from the room, closing the door behind her. You set your book down, welcoming her into your bed. It was almost time for your next Transfiguration class, but you didn't particularly mind.

She cuddled up to you, entangling her legs with yours under the covers. "I miss you, (y/n/n). All those classes you're taking..."

"Hey, I'll always make time for you," you whispered, holding her a little tighter.

Lavender hummed, planting her palms firmly on either side of your head before kissing you, her entire body moving in tune with her lips as she leaned impossibly closer to you. You tangled your own hands at the base of her hairline, deepening something that already felt as close as yourself.

She rolled onto you, straddling your hips, making you groan. "Skip your next class for me?"

"Sorry, baby, I've already missed too much," you apologized, hands wandering down her back to cup her ass. "But I'd be happy to go to the Prefects' bathroom with you this evening?"

She murmured something incoherent but definitely unimpressed, shifting restlessly so that your fists clenched.

"Fine." She lay back down beside you, expression sour. "But I'm expecting a minimum of three times. And I want to spend more time with you in general. I feel like everywhere I look, there's just that Granger girl..."

Your thumb caressed her cheekbone, passing over constellations of mild freckles, pointing towards the streaking gold of her hair. "It doesn't matter. It's all you. Hermione is my friend. Okay?"

"I guess."

"No, really. It is all you, because you are beautiful and kind and passionate - don't bother thinking about anyone else. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good." You cuddled a little longer but soon you had to make your way through the maze of moving stairs, the talking armor and the drinking portraits. She stayed behind, feeling ready for your return already.

The class was mostly dull; a monotone repetition of something that obviously appeared bland to Professor McGonnagle also, because she seemed just as close to falling off her chair as half the class.

Unlike Hermione, of course.

"So," she turned to you, both your fabrics transformed into little doll's dresses, "you think your dress would suit me?"

You eyed the skimpy cut (you had accidentally lost some of it in transformation), then looked back at Hermione. "I'm sure. Not many wouldn't." You smiled sincerely, hoping she wouldn't take it as you flirting. It was just a compliment - that was all.

She blushed furiously. "Well, I have some dresses I could show you sometime... I'm free tonight-"

"I have a girlfriend," you reminded her curtly, brows raised. Her brown curls wisped before her large eyes, lips slightly parted as her hands fidgeted in her lap.

"Right. I didn't mean- I mean- I thought-" McGonnagle cleared her throat at the front of the class, and Hermione seemed all too glad to avert her attention.

You sighed, unable to pay attention to the class. Hermione was certainly very attractive and from what you had seen, kind and clever, too. She would never be on the same level as Lavendar, your girl, who you knew and loved, but...

Your eyes wandered over her back, the studious hunch of her shoulders and the wild mass of hair...

Before you knew it, forty minutes had passed and you hadn't taken a single note.

•••

You had Herbology with Lavender, which turned out to be the most interesting theory lesson you'd ever had in the subject.

She had moved your right hand to her thighs, grinning at you when you had pressed your finger into her clit through her pants. Throughout the lesson you irregularly stroked her - either with a digit or two, or the side of your hand, or your palm - and she would always grip her seat like her life depended on it, pressing her lips together forcefully as to not make a sound.

There was Charms and Care of Magical Creatures, and finally there was only you and the night.

You skipped up two stairs at a time on your way to the bathroom, making sure to flash your prefect's badge particularly loudly, not that anyone was around.

You swung the door open, beaming already, finally her dark silhouette was framed against the light-

Except it wasn't Lavender.

"Hermione?" you asked carefully, purposefully avoiding eye contact with her towel-wrapped bosom.

"(Y/n)! I, uh- I didn't realize- I was just finishing up-"

"No, don't," you stopped her flustered state, wincing at how it sounded. "I mean, don't hurry for me. I'll wait outside, it's fine."

"You could also stay, you know-"

"I've had enough of you!" A loud voice followed a loud bang. "Why can't you just let me have something? But no, you always have to take them-"

"I haven't taken anybody! McLaggen never fancied you, and I certainly didn't want to be with him. Ron left because of you, nothing ever happened between us. And (y/n) isn't leaving you even though I'd like it because for once someone does love you properly!"

Both girls were silent, breathing heavily, while you watched, brows raised, feeling slightly unwell.

Before you could tell what was happening, however, they embraced, a mass of waves and curls that emanated quiet snivels. You blinked, unsure what was going on. How did it happen? One second they were fighting, the next...

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, they obviously weren't right for you anyway...," Hermione cried into her shoulder, clenching her fists around the purple fabric of Lav's shirt tighter.

"I know it wasn't your fault, and I'm so sorry about Krum, that must've been really hard," your girlfriend replied, holding your friend like her life depended on it.

"We're just so different, I guess I found it easy to blame things on you."

"I get it, I did it, too. And you know- I mean- if (y/n) would have us, I could share. I think there's enough love there for both of us... I don't know if we... but I don't want to take anything away from you again, Hermione..."

You blinked again, more aggressively this time. What were they deciding without you? Of course you liked both of them, but wouldn't that cause tension? Would you be able to pay them both enough attention? How...

"What do you say?" Hermione asked, now turning to you. Her towel slipped slightly, making you gulp.

"I honestly have no idea what's going on, but I think so, yeah."

————

—> my exact words after writing this bcs it's two am I have to go to school tomorrow why am I doing this to myself nothing makes sense and I don't know why my type like bold italic left right middle stuff isn't working I'm so tired you can literally feel the quality declining as it goes on

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #harry potter #x reader #hermione x reader #hermione fanfiction #hermione granger #lavender #lavender brown #lavender brown x reader #hermione x lavender #hermione x lavender x reader #steam #jealousy #i dont know #i am so tired #send help

[plscallmeeren]

P E R S O N A L

Jessica Jones x Reader

Request: Dragonsw

Summary: you're a natural born fighter (martial arts, fire manipulation) who fought for money and enlisted in SHIELD to avoid jail, then got kicked out again. You now reside in Hell's Kitchen and meet Jessica by chance in a bar... where certain individuals are looking to cause trouble

Warnings: Swearing; violence; intentions of sexual assault but nothing happens; insinuations; unedited

Word Count: 2K+

Jessica Jones sat in her usual spot. Her usual bar. Her usual bartender. Her usual silence, peace, quiet. Her usual white noise, if you will.

Of course, a variation of elements was rendered unrecognizable from one visit to the next, let alone the customers who hadn't been visiting the same place for at least thirty years. Or since their wife made them move because their old place 'just wasn't a good family area'. They had been raised there just fine, thank you very much. Born and raised and intending to stay, but unfortunately some people loved their wives or had simply made the mistake of exchanging favor for acquiescence.

The mournful bell over the door chimed, its stained glass triangles dipping away to reveal you, handsome you, to someone too preoccupied with why the locals were local to realise she was staring.

How couldn't she? Jessica knew what looks were. She'd seen them around. Easy on the eyes. Lean muscle, humble anatomy that curved like a coy smile under dark long sleeves. But pretty wasn't perfect - she knew that as well as anyone. Pretty, if anything, was often arrogant, and arrogant raised bad kids. They too tended to stay, unless forced to be otherwise.

But you didn't come. You didn't sit down next to her and prop up a carefully calculated arm and smirk like you knew where this would end and so should she - no, you barely glanced in her direction.

One beer, one booth, and you were seated, sipping sporadically. Watching, closed eyes, not waiting, not wallowing in the void of a phone. Just sitting. Enjoying your spot, your silence, peace, white noise.

She couldn't look away.

She couldn't stay silent.

She couldn't be at peace.

"Out of everything on the menu - beer?" she inquired loudly, catching your attention immediately. After all, she only had Old Timmy's rambling murmurs to compete with.

"What can I say, they were out of orange juice," you replied, not opening your eyes. She decided that if only one thing could happen tonight, it would be that you look at her. Properly. Fully at peace.

Jessica chuckled. "What, can't handle the hard shit?"

"Sure, just - I don't know if you've tried it recently, but it tastes fucking disgusting."

"Doesn't matter if you want the full effect," she quipped, leaning back in her adjacent booth with an unexplained smile.

"I only hope I'm not someone who needs the full effect so desperately." You looked at her with eyes that dragged the weak in.

"What, like me?"

A moment of silence she spontaneously regretted.

"I dunno. Guess it's fair to need a little support once in a while. Timmy wouldn't last long without dear barkeep, I expect," you nodded at the elderly man at the counter.

"You know Timmy? If you come so often, why don't I know you?"

"What, you'd notice me?" you teased, and she felt like slapping the blush off her face.

"Answer the goddamn question."

"Well, first of all, you don't need to be around much to know Old Timmy," you paused to make sure that point had come across before continuing, "and I come every Thursday. That not suit your schedule?"

"It's true. I have violin practice that day." You laughed loudly. She wanted you to do it again.

The bell over the door rang loudly, announcing the five newcomers at the top of its lungs.

"Hey, man, why don't you get me and my friends some drinks?" one of the men yelled across the counter. The barman only shook his head, pulling out whatever he assumed people wanted when they didn't specify.

"I'd take any screeching violin over this," you said snidely as the guys continued to yell ideas and comments at each other.

"Where'd ya go, Mark? Still scared of a little vodka after ol' Fanny?" The group guffawed at whatever inside joke the broad man with uneven stubble had mentioned.

Jessica nodded at you, meeting some mutual understanding that it wasn't worth trying to talk over them.

A couple of them staggered over to a booth once they had downed their respective shots, another two still leaning against the bar.

One, apparently Mark, approached Jessica's booth instead. She didn't miss the way your eyes remained on the obviously drunken youth.

"Hey pretty lady," he drawled, "you wanna get outta here? I know a nice place downtown..."

"Not if you paid me," she cut him off curtly, sipping at her tequila.

"I could pay you, y'know. Pretty thing like you'd be worth a pretty sum." He grinned, displaying murky teeth, looking plainly proud of himself.

"You're getting repetitive," Jessica laughed, but now the attention of almost everyone in the place was on the interaction. Mark noticed, it seemed, for where he may have otherwise walked away, he couldn't let this happen under carefully watchful eyes. The barkeeper had disappeared into a backroom, and Timmy was slowly teetering over the threshold with a little encouragement.

Mark's eyes darkened as he looked at Jessica. "Get out," he said simply, looking at you for a moment.

You didn't move, didn't even look at him as you sipped further at your beer.

"You got a hearing problem, Bruce Lee? Get out!"

Still, nothing.

Jessica couldn't help but be irritated. She could take all of those guys out easily - why couldn't you just go? Of course you didn't know, but any normal person would just... "Just do what he says," she exclaims out loud, scoffing at the insinuations the men make through hands and laughs.

"I'm not done with my beer," you said simply. Her annoyance grew.

Mark huffed loudly, and Jessica could have sworn she saw the glint of metal as he approached you, but just as realization set in, he was next to you, it was too late-

You grabbed his wrist before he could stab you with the knife, twisting it so that he would let go. In his moment of confusion, you rammed the blade into his hand, kicking him away for good measure.

Jessica stared at you in awe and bewilderment, but not for long. Commotion broke out all around as Mark started shouting and whining about his hand.

She took advantage of their joint panic, kicking the guy approaching her now with so much force that he slammed against the opposite wall of the room.

She tackled another, struggling to ignore your own fighting skills. It would have been hard to track your hands, feet as they whirled around your opponents' heads gracefully, pressing the heel of your palm into the right places just after... was that fire...?

The barkeeper emerged frantically from the back upon hearing the excitement, though by the time he was in your midst all five guys were already lying on the ground.

You pulled a loose 20-dollar note out of your pocket, handing it to the man. "For the mess and the beer," you said simply, walking away. The barkeeper only stared at his hand, however, apparently undecided as to whether he should call the police or just haul the men outside after the unnerving experience.

"Hey!" Jessica called, running out after you. She should have known something was off about you. How hadn't she noticed?

You turned around, almost making her stop in her tracks. There was something so refined, maybe dignified, in the way you moved...

"What was that?"

You only looked at her, eyebrows raised, in need of elaboration.

"I had that handled, why did you escalate?" she yelled, still pulling on her leather jacket.

"I wanted a drink, I had a drink."

"So you don't think it's reckless to put everything on the line for half a glass of beer?"

She could feel herself drowning if she looked you in the eye much longer, tried to concentrate or grasp onto any other part of your face, but they were only the outer rim of the vortex.

"Of course it's reckless, but in case you hadn't noticed, I can take care of myself. I know now I had nothing to worry about, but forgive me for doubting a single person I just met could take on five big guys," you countered, not raising your voice even as your tone changed.

You were struggling to be irritated as well. Her expression was hard, but you could still see the fine lines that, when tweaked just a little, would gaze softly like before. She was guarded, yes, but you had no trouble discerning that there was definitely something there worth guarding.

You hadn't realised you were still walking side by side until she stopped you, fingers around your arm, and you never wanted to be free of those five prints of warmth on your skin, even divided by your sleeve.

"What if there had been guns?"

"Result would have been the same."

Who are you?, she thought desperately, trying to remember some fire-weaponizing fighter who lived in the area and was free on Thursday evenings.

"How did you burn that guy?"

"How did you throw a guy across the room?"

"Personal," she answered defensively.

"Personal," you agreed.

Jessica could respect that, but it still didn't explain...

"Were you trying to impress me? Is that it? A quick way to get in bed with me?" Ironically, she was leaning closer and closer towards you, a mere breath away from your body as she glared.

She had met plenty of that kind; who wanted a hookup, and so did she, and nothing ever came of it because it had only been inspired by one accidental glance at a pretty woman in a club. That was fine. But if that was all you were, she would find it intolerably frustrating.

But she accepted it; she leaned in further, on her toes, her lips at the perfect point to indulge the slant of your neck-

You backed away gently, looking mildly insulted but otherwise unaffected. "No, some assholes came into a bar and forced my hand. That's all." You walked on, but this time she didn't follow.

"I didn't need your help!" she cried, hating that she sounded so childish.

"Just because you can take something on, doesn't mean you have to. Also, I think that's the first thing you've said to me tonight that wasn't a question." You smirked, turning and stopping after all. Before she knew it a business card was flung in her direction, which she caught with ease. "If you're ever in a jam even you can't handle - or don't want to handle - give me a call. Always looking to keep my skills sharp."

You walked again, but again she stormed up to you, fiery determination mirrored in the glint of her eyes. She handed you a card also. "I'm a private investigator. Always happy to make some money."

You chuckled, a rumbling sound that emanated from deep within your chest. "Thank you, Miss Jones," you read from the card. "Have a good night."

You turned for the last time that night, striding along the sidewalk as if you had all the time in the world. She stared. There hadn't been many occasions where she was the one chasing after someone time and time again.

She had liked your voice.

She held onto that specific thing, because if she let herself contemplate beyond, she would be sucked in yet again. Just your voice.

Maybe she should have picked something else, however, because during sleepless nights or when among distant thoughts, nothing carries as clearly as a familiar voice.

Perhaps she would see you again. Probably not, but perhaps.

And with that thought, she wandered along her own streets, away from where things had almost become personal.

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #marvel #mcu fanfiction #male reader #x reader #jessica jones #jessica x reader #jj marvel #part one #wxm #cute #fluff #angst #slight angst

[plscallmeeren]

O H , H A R R Y

Hermione Jean Granger x Luna Lovegood x Reader

Request: yes

Summary: you have been friends with the trio since first year and you've always been enthralled by Hermione and Luna, but only now in sixth year (for legal reasons everyone's an adult) are confessions made...... btw it's potions class and Harry has a crush on you (potions facts r all correct)

Warnings: Swearing; nipple play; magic strap-on/fake p; fisting; finger f; face f; power dynamics; bondage; top!reader; biting; anatomy ig; dirty talk of all kinds; threesome; anal; semi-public sex; porn with hardly any plot; out of character Hermione; damn idk stuff

Word Count: 3.6K+

You stared miserably at your cauldron in lieu of Snape's arrival. Luna sat next to you, doodling something in a notebook, completely unaware of your thoughts entangling with her.

In front of you, Harry and Ron were placed side by side, whispering about something. Hermione sat a way off, poring over her potions book as if she needed preparation for the lesson. Your heart nestled into your stomach mockingly as Ron looked her way adoringly.

What were you thinking? How could you be into two girls? Wasn't one bad enough? And what on Earth possessed you to think you had a chance?

But you had to tell them. At some point. For your own sake. So that you could move on. At least Luna, because Hermione would be harder to escape if things went south, considering you were in the same group of friends.

Your gaze wandered helplessly toward the Ravenclaw girl, searching her profile for something that might comfort you. Whatever that meant, you found it, because the sheer sight of her brought some joy to you - every single time.

Eventually Snape strode in, dramatic as always, impatiently beginning his lesson void of introduction, as if he weren't the one who had come too late.

"Valerian - recognising it. How tall-"

"One to two meters, sir," Hermione cut in enthusiastically, recoiling at the look he sent her in return.

"And are the blossoms or the leaves edible?" he continued, ignoring her. Apparently his gaze lingered on Luna for too long, however, because she answered easily: "Both. The leaves are harvested between May and June, the blossoms between June and July."

"That's not what I asked," he snarled, "and I don't recall calling on you, could that be, Miss Lovegood?" She held his stare better than anyone.

"Right. (Y/l/n), is the root dried before the common tincture is derived from its essence?" Snape sounded smug. Usually that was bad.

"No, it's not. And the tincture is said to be repellent of cruel spirits and similar." For a second you felt smug yourself. Then you remembered it was still bad.

"Also not my question. Now; who can tell me what real potion Valerian roots are essentially to-"

Hermione's hand was raised. Snape stared at her, looking almost surprised that she should suddenly be present and also have the nerve to remind him of this. She withered under his scrutiny, finally choosing to answer as he wasn't moving: "Draught of the living death, sir. I think, sir."

"I don't think I like your attitude, Miss Granger. Or yours, for that matter," he added meaningfully, glaring at you and Luna in turn. "Detention. All three of you. You'll be cleaning up the doubtless mess that will arise this lesson due to the jumping beans. No leaving after class."

You wished you could protest with the fact that you had a lesson the next period, but you didn't have one, just this once, and by the looks of it, neither did your friends. Harry and Ron looked at you pitifully.

This is the time. This is the day, a surprisingly loud voice inside you said. You gulped. Maybe it was. 

The lesson dragged as fitful bursts of imagination illustrated to you exactly which ways you could be explicitly shunned and exiled, while others portrayed perfect scenarios of reciprocation that partly led to some crazy classroom threesome. You felt almost guilty for thinking about them that way, but you were the last one encouraging these thoughts after all.

Finally, not that you had noticed, the two hours of anticipation faded away with the distant coaster of students packing their things. Snape loomed over Hermione, supposedly giving instructions. She winced at something he said and you were overcome with a strange sort of second-hand rage. Not the kind that made you move out your blood boil, but the kind that twisted some vital organ you couldn't place, deep down inside your gut.

He left, cape swooshing, and there you were.

You. Hermione. Luna.

You all looked at each other for a moment before Hermione began relaying Snape's tricks for catching the beans. They sounded awfully implausible. You all suspected they were only supposed to mistake it harder, but quiet prevailed as you got to work.

It was awkward silence. And you had no idea why.

This was not as usual. The three of you were quite close, or at least you were with both of them, and there was never any tension unless Luna brought up an unusual creature and stubbornly disallowed anyone from changing the subject.

Eventually you couldn't stand it any longer. "I have something to tell you. Both of you. To get off my chest."

They looked at you expectantly, abandoning the hopeless search for bouncing legumes.

"What is it?" Hermione, oh clever Hermione, with wit and smarts and pride.

"Yes?" Luna, lovely Luna, with daydreams and understanding and interest.

"I don't expect you to react to this," you continued uneasily, watching them exchange an unreadable look. "I really don't. I don't want it to change. Us. Anything. But it's not getting better, so this is the only way I can think of."

You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes for a second to regain your composure. "I like you. Both of you. And I know that's weird. I know we're friends and I shouldn't but I really do. It's only become more with time, so... I don't know what else to do but tell you and..."

Hermione beamed. Luna laughed. Your brow furrowed.

"Oh, but that's wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed, flinging herself at you so that you had to half catch her, not letting you finish.

"Wait- What do you mean, that's wonderful?" You asked, confused.

Luna smiled. "(Y/n), you can't imagine how wonderful this is," she started, approaching the part of the room where Hermione leaned against your frame. "Recently I admitted to Hermione that I felt for you also, and at first she was disturbed, because she had the same feelings, but then we realized that if you hypothetically felt back, there was no reason we couldn't share you. Or, more likely, that whoever you liked should have total allowance to act on their wishes."

You stared at her. This was a dream, right? Sure, Luna could be direct, but still...

You pinched your arm, simultaneously ecstatic and disturbed when it hurt. You looked at them both in turn again, Hermione pulling away a little from her impractical position. "So... the three of us? Together?"

"Yes."

"If you can handle both."

"Right." You clicked your tongue, eyes involuntarily roaming Hermione's body as she stood so close to you. "I don't know what to say now."

"What were you going to say?" Luna asked slyly, siding up to you as well.

"Well... I'm always thinking of you. In the library, when we study together," you lock eyes with Hermione, "and when we hang out. You're just never absent from my mind."

Hermione giggled, and your brows rose when you realized what she was thinking. Luna smiled coyly also, making you smirk. "Not really what I meant, but sure."

"Don't you think we should celebrate? Instead of moderately awkward sexual tension, I mean," Luna asked, keeping an entirely straight face.

"Oh, yes," Hermione agreed, grinning, lighting up as if she had just arrived at a spectacular idea. "I think I'll just pick up that bean."

She paced about two steps before leaning over slowly in a way that would never be suitable for catching something, showing off the perfect silhouette of her ass and legs. "Oops," she murmured when it jumped away.

You bit your lip, turning to Luna instead. Your hand found the nape of her neck where your fingers could reach the roots of her hair, your other securing her waist as you leaned in, kissing her slowly.

It was better than you had imagined it. More natural, more believable. It felt like melting into her. Your heart sunk between your legs.

Hermione, looking almost jealous, swung her hips as she walked, wrapping an arm around your waist and the other through your hair as if to drag you away.

You pulled back, eyeing her playfully before moving the hand that had resided on Luna's hip to the other girl's side, slowly finding your way to cup her ass. She gasped.

You couldn't believe this was happening. Each arm around a beautiful girl.

"You can do her first," the Ravenclaw whispered. "I don't mind watching."

"I wouldn't want to keep you out of the fun," you smiled wickedly. "Why don't you sit on that desk there, love?"

She obeyed easily, leaving a panting Hermione before you to focus on. "Sweet girl... why don't you cast a silencing and locking charm, will you?"

She nodded frantically, quickly pulling out her wand to do just that. Before she could, however, your mouth was on her neck, inducing a moan - more surprised than anything.

"S-Silencio," she stuttered, chest rising and falling fast as you slid the robe off her shoulders onto the floor.

You kissed her on the mouth then, her wand arm faltering as you muffled her groans, pulling off her jumper and top in one. Her wand clattered on the ground.

Next came her skirt and tights, ripped off her without a second thought, leaving her in black lacy underwear. You grinned. "Luna, honey, I'll need you to undress, too."

She nodded from the desk, immediately setting to work. You looked back at Hermione as she stared up at you, practically awaiting judgement. "Pretty girl," you cooed, "if only I had known you'd been hiding this under all those clothes." She blushed. Blue and purple spots were already taking form on her neck.

You cupped her breasts carefully, massaging them with the palms of your hands until you could see her hardened nipples through the fabric. You unclasped the lingerie, diving down to her cleavage, sucking and biting and eliciting guttural moans and whimpers from her. A distant whining came from the direction of the desk also.

"P-Please, mommy, I want more-"

"Mommy, huh? Interesting," you interrupted her. "And what exactly would that entail?"

She only whined, resulting in a shrewd pinch of her left nipple. "I- I, uh... down there..."

"Use your big girl words, darling."

"I- I want you to f-fuck me."

"That's more like it," you purred. "But you'll have to wait a moment."

Turning to Luna, you raised your wand, catching her off guard as charmed ropes snaked around her wrists and ankles, finally grasping the table legs with considerable force. She panted in anticipation.

"Bet you're wondering where I learned that trick," you cooed, but didn't elaborate as you led Hermione with a hand on the small of her back towards Luna, gently applying pressure to her shoulders until she caught on, sliding to her knees before her friend's bare cunt with wide eyes.

"I'm gonna need you to eat her out, kitten. Can you do that for mommy?" You tilted your head mockingly.

"I, I've never done that before," she stuttered, "but I'll try..." Her mouth collided with Luna's pussy, ass naturally drifting upwards as she elicited soft moans from the blonde, who writhed against her magical bindings with a flawlessly arched spine.

You rounded on Luna, licking your lips at the sight of her plush breasts and perked nipples. You touched her right with the tip of your wand experimentally, relishing her passionate gasps as its cold effect startled her. You continued for about a minute, maybe more, playing with irregular hot and cold touches all over her cleavage.

She was moaning and whining more and more, hips bucking up into Hermione's face more often than not.

You returned to Hermione, standing behind her calmly before running a finger up one thigh, then the other. She groaned into Luna, causing a chain reaction. The same finger roamed around her pussy, poking at her lips once or twice before venturing up to her ass, circling her other hole. She whined as you pushed into her carefully, curling and uncurling a few times before retracting again, leaving her pussy heaving, longing. "Such a good girl."

"Please," she whimpered, muffled by the Ravenclaw's folds. You wanted to tease her, but couldn't find it in you to delay.

"You're so wet for me, it's adorable." Two of your fingers rubbed sidelong up her cunt, slowly edging deeper and deeper until you were inside her, searching for her g-spot, finding it, pounding against it so that she had to come away from Luna to breathe, whine, moan. The sinful sounds were so high they sounded fake, but the movements of her needy hips proved otherwise.

"Quiet, now, kitten," you mocked, only thrusting into her harder as Luna groaned from afar. "Or do you need more?"

She nodded quickly, but you weren't going to let her get away so easily.

"I need to hear you say it. C'mon, use that pretty voice of yours."

"I need more," she whimpered, hardly able to catch a breath long enough to speak. You grinned, groaning a guttural 'good girl' that sent Hermione over the edge. Her juices flowed freely over your fingers, but you didn't stop, merely slowing down a second before adding another finger, then another, so that the majority of your hand thrust in and out of her with every frantic intake of breath.

"You ready?" you purred, smiling as she nodded. The remaining thumb glided into her, your entire fist now hitting all the right places in her cunt.

"Oh, Merlyn, please-"

She slumped forwards into Luna's pussy, sending vibrations through the blonde girl. With one guttural moan, clenching around nothing, she came again, writhing in her bindings as Hermione's face remained attached to her slick, almost sliding away at any given time, swaying back and forth with every push of your joined digits.

You could feel her gripping your hand harder and harder, threatening to spill, to arrive-

You drew your fist out, eliciting a pathetic whine from the Gryffindor. "Good girl," you said softly, presenting your hand to her face, which she eagerly licked clean of her own juices. "I'm gonna need you to..." You leaned in close, whispering in her ear so that Luna could only strain to hear you. Hermione nodded eagerly, still breathing hard.

You held up your wand, closing your eyes in concentration to remember some of the charms your cousin (oh, the irony) had showed you a while ago. Finally, pointing down, you muttered the words, watching as an unfamiliar bulge formed in your pants. You pulled the trousers down, letting it spring up, ignoring the girls as you set to work again, finally managing to have the wand vibrate heavily in your hand.

When you turned back around, Hermione was obeying your first ask, tickling Luna all over her body as her already aroused cunt pulsated and clenched, her nipples going stiff. She jerked and spasmed on the very desk she had just before contemplated potions class.

You handed the brunette your buzzing wand, letting her place it on the Ravenclaw's clit. She shuddered, struggling to hold still. Your fingers ran over her middle, tracing the outline of her beautiful face and the roots of her silver hair. Thumbs gliding to the corners of her mouth where her head hung over the edge, gently prompting her to open up, meaningfully catching her eye. An endless string of whines and moans poured from her now that her lips were parted.

Slowly, she took your fake dick, gagging on it in a way that brought immense pleasure to you through this unreal sequence of nerves. Luna started sliding up and down it with those voluptuous lips, and before you knew it, it was you who was pushing down her throat again and again, the blonde giddy with stimulation and slight lack of air.

"You can come now, honey. Come from mommy fucking your face like the sweet girl you are," you said sweetly, and then she was gasping, her face better than any pornographic scenery, and then Hermione was whimpering at the sheer jealousy of another's orgasm, and you were so impossibly turned on that you couldn't stop yourself. Your own orgasm exploded in Luna's mouth, some leaking out onto her face as you pulled away, sorry you hadn't asked, but she looked so ecstatic you could have come again.

The angelic image; Luna, wise Luna, white flecks dripping down her cleavage and face, swallowing the same as she licked her perfect lips. Hair a mess, spread-eagle on the table where she would have to sit and learn the next day, mildly cross-eyed, pussy and breasts on full, parted display, a blunt portrait of pleasure.

You took the wand from Hermione, Luna sagging at the loss of stimulation. A simple flick and those gentle but stubborn ropes snaked back into the air, vanishing as their deed was done. "Why don't you get dressed, love? We'll go to my dorm and get comfortable," you suggested, but your grin was too curious to be innocent.

She reached for her wand on the neighboring desk among her discarded clothes, but you interrupted her actions. "Don't clean up here. Put your clothes on over it all." She glanced down at her dripping wet thighs, soaked pussy, thought of the cum on her face and cleavage - then smiled just as wickedly.

Your lips crashed against hers before she could proceed, however, removing her more obvious decor as they travelled to her chin, her cheeks, cleaning her up in a way so inherently harmless she laughed. You had always loved her laugh. "Go ahead."

You held out a hand to Hermione, who was resting on the stone floor, helping her up and sitting down on the next table before Luna. She intuitively sat down on your lap, groaning as she slipped onto your cock. She sat there, 'adjusting', as you both watched Luna get dressed.

"See her legs? All wet under her stockings, even as she'll walk through the castle. Think how many other people will see her like that, unaware of all the dirty things my girls have been up to," you murmur in her ear, earning a groan of frustration. She lifted herself up as if to fuck herself on your lap, but you pushed her back down again. "Don't tell me you still haven't had enough of being fucked, sweet girl? You still want more?"

She whimpered, bucking her hips against you as you rested your head on her shoulder carefully, kissing the side of her neck. Luna pulled up her skirt, awkwardly setting bra over wet skin.

"What would other students say, knowing you're so needy? That you and Luna both have drenched cunts and wanna be fucked? Have been fucked?"

Apparently movement wasn't necessary, because that was the moment Hermione squirted for the first time in her life.

"Good girl," you whispered one more time, one last shudder of approval, before lifting her off of you and charming away your helpful illusion.

She started getting dressed over her post-sex anatomy, managing to clasp on a bra and stockings. You were just buttoning up your trousers when the door creaked open. Hermione yelped, scurrying behind you automatically, Luna standing sagely, now fully dressed.

Harry and Ron stood paralyzed by the wooden door, staring. The former looked livid.

"How dare you? I thought you were my friends!" he yelled, glaring at Hermione and Luna in turn, noting the slick around the Gryffindor's face as well. "(Y/n) was mine! You knew I liked her, didn't you? How could you take her from me?"

"Oh, Harry," you sighed, effectively inaudible over his ongoing accusations and claims.

"Please, Harry," you said louder, making him stop, "I didn't realize. I'm sorry for hurting you. But I was never yours, or only as a friend. I'm sorry. But I can be with who I want, and that's nothing to take up with Hermione or Luna, either."

He was practically quivering with... what? Rage? Sadness? Frustration? Envy?

"Well, I think it's great, y'know," Ron intervened awkwardly. "The whole... being-with-you-want-thing. Real good. You should all be happy, is what I'm saying, I suppose. Although I do find that hard to say in the dungeons, but y'know. 'Is what it is."

He wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders, turning him around slowly. "C'mon, mate. Uh, he's sorry and all, I think is fair to say. Just outta sorts, is all."

Harry seemed unable to withstand his friend's kind tug, dragging his feet over the dark stone in the opposite direction.

Hermione emerged from behind you, hand clapped over her mouth. "I can't believe I forgot to do a locking spell."

"Maybe you've forgotten, but that wasn't entirely your fault."

"Anyway," Luna interrupted as the Gryffindor appeared to be searching her memory, "let's hope nothing will go out of its way to stand between us anymore. Not even our friends."

"We won't let them either way," Hermione added, smiling brightly.

"Good to know." You grinned. This detention was certainly worth it.

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #harry potter #smut #x reader #threes0me #wlw #wlw ns/fw #hermione x reader #hermione fanfiction #hermione granger #Hermione smut #luna lovegood #luna x reader #Luna x Hermione #bd/sm kink #top reader

[plscallmeeren]

C I T I Z E N S O F W E S T V I E W P T 3

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Request: Dragonsw

Summary: part 3 ig (there is smut but I have marked before and after in case u just wanna read the story)

Warnings: Swearing; piv smut; anatomy lol; very pushy romantic old people; unedited bs

Word Count: 3K+

You watched Wanda cheerfully as she went on about her favourite milk-bar in Sokovia and the friendly couple who owned it. Two large bags full of books from the secondhand bookshop pulled at your arms as you followed her into the cafe, setting them down and ordering your favourite types of coffee while she continued.

She gestured around wildly in an attempt to bring more life into her story, your gaze slipping to the black woollen blazer she had stolen from you some time ago now. You might never forget her glare when you asked if you could have it back.

Her retelling came in swings of heavy accent and moments of delighted height down to suspenseful quiet. You listened intently.

She had been living with you for a while, slowly marking her territory with various ornaments and efforts, steadily ending an era of bleakly scarce cutlery and naked walls. You hadn't felt like you were missing anything before - it just didn't matter enough, and you barely had company over, anyway - but now you wondered whether you could survive without it all. Without the brass plates, the frilly curtains, her.

Her inner evolution hadn't gone unnoticed, either, although it too crawled so slowly it took looking back to realise how far she had come, how much had changed. Originally, although kind and occasionally talkative, she had been more of a stranger, a foreign house-guest who had landed with you on accident. You didn't mind back then, but again, you couldn't take it back. It wouldn't be enough.

Now, she had a favourite cafe, a favourite couch, a favourite neighbour. Her past seemed to slip away slowly, carefully ripping away any reserve or depression. It was still there. You saw it, every day, in little ways - but it was more like a passing thought, something that could be triggered with the wrong word or look. Back then it had enveloped her, fed her its own poison and blinded her from its weak points.

She was regaining a home where her previous one had been brutally destroyed. Not stolen, not tampered with, but wholly and utterly destroyed.

However, you did not know this. You knew precisely nothing, and as much as she was enough - she always would be - curiosity sometimes reared its unkind head, suggesting you say things in conversation, sometimes rendering you entirely incapable of speech. She knew about your history, why not hers? You knew why it truly bothered you, of course. There was only feeble denial of the twist in your stomach when she pronounced something wrong (judging by the average English-speaker) or the way heat coursed through you when one side of  your t-shirt slipped down her shoulder.

You were falling for her, whether you'd allow yourself to word it that way or not. Perhaps that was why you clung to the most unlikely part of her story, namely the mention of romance, and telepathically directed the conversation in another direction.

"You know, I have a friend in Los Angelos who... well, he wasn't so different from me, just... ice powers-"

"And you think ice powers are as cool as telepathy and stuff?"

"And stuff? Really? Stuff?"

"Mhm. Ice powers are much cooler."

"Good to know. What I was trying to say, is that I'm happy he found peace and love. All our kind - us warriors - never believed that was a viable life for us, even something to think about. But life has a way of proving you wrong, and I'm happy for him."

She stared at you for a moment, the two of you basking in the ethereal glow of the other, lost in translation of thoughts and other things you missed. She cocked her head, smiling faintly: "Why are you thinking of romance, dušica? Do you have someone in mind?"

"Maybe I do."

Some weeks ago you might have startled at such a raw display of trust, considering how badly you felt you were hiding your feelings. You wondered at her; whether some minuscule part of your emotion for her was mirrored within her, strong enough to make her stay.

You held her gaze, breathing in the scent of hot coffee as it entered your world without realising someone must have brought it.

Every spell had to break at some point, though.

"Why, hello, dears! I haven't seen you around in at least a week, am I right? Any good books?"

Mrs. Hill. Again. You loved her, truly, but she was more set on getting you and Wanda together than she was on keeping up her marriage. Or at least, her marriage may have suffered, had Mr. Hill not been just as in on the gossip.

"Yes, some classics today. Mainly cozy things," Wanda replied for you.

"Oh, yes, I assume you two will be cozying up all the way til spring, right, dears?" She winked at you in a way you imagined was supposed to be subtle, but was effectively more in Wanda's direction than in yours.

"I'm sure they'll be extremely cozy, darling. Although getting exercise in the cold times is important, too, you know," her husband caught on as he appeared around the corner. This particular ambush almost always came in double at once. You pretended not to hear the implications of exercise. Wanda snorted.

"I'm sure we'll be fine."

"And are you sharing a room?" Mrs. Hill asked, practically chirping.

"No, Mrs. Hill, I have a guest room, luckily."

"Oh. Well. I didn't realise."

"We're just heading out to our date night," Mr. Hill said in a last attempt, winking in much the same way as his wife.

"Well, you have fun, love birds," Wanda answered graciously, the two of you waving them off as they approached the counter. She broke into fits of giggles, clamping her hand over her mouth until they left.

"Oh, stop it," you muttered, sipping at your coffee as she cackled.

"Ha! Date night? Cozying up? Sharing a room? Exercise?"

"Oh, you caught that, did you?" you said sarcastically, laying your head on one side, unimpressed.

"Oh, I caught that. I caught it and I'm never letting go."

•••

Wanda

Wanda put her book down, leaning back into your bed with a sigh. She hadn't taken in any of the content. She had been thinking about you - the way your scent was ingrained in your pillows, the faint curve of your body where you always slept. This bed was bigger, more comfortable, so you had offered it while you practiced. She regretted it now.

She knew what was wrong with her; why you were so distracting. She knew exactly why she blushed when you called her 'love' or 'darling' or why there was a throb between her legs when you practiced your martial arts, muscles flexing with unequalled precision.

It drove her insane. She wanted to open up, but she never wanted to speak his name again. She wanted to love you without guilt, but she couldn't betray Vision that way. She wanted to ravish you and feel you, but how dare she?

In the end, however, she knew what the right answer was. Or maybe not right, but right for her. She had to tell you. Everything. Starting with Vision, and if she had the strength, about you.

Wanda stood up gingerly, tense and weak at the same time. She perched behind the doorframe, watching as you moved in the coated space of the living room; the swift cut of an arm, the careful lift of a foot, back arching perfectly as you leaned back. You had even tried to reach her some for when she couldn't rely on her powers. Hypnotising. Then again, you always were.

Vision would want this, she thought, but doubt still crept in at the edges, the loose hems of her mind, whispering in convincing voices that sounded like him but were only an echo of herself. Vision would want this.

Now it was you and your katana, a revelry of broad sways and wicked stabs at innocent air, your eyes closed, not sensing her because of complete concentration.

Beautiful.

You had done so much for her and she felt like she had never given anything back - you certainly hadn't asked. You were sweet, caring, polite, warm - oh, you were so warm. She had hugged you once or twice and who knew whether she was getting warmer from happiness or safety or the pure heat you radiated at all times. She had been safe in those arms, the stray anchor of a slow heartbeat, the murmur of what you had picked up casually of her native language.

She loved Vision, she always would, but even he couldn't compare to you. The thought clutched at her stomach and crushed it, replaced her belly with fear. What if she ruined this, too?

She was so afraid. She was out of her mind with fear.

You opened your eyes. She knew your routine. This is the point where you would sit down on your shambled carpet and meditate, but instead you smiled at her.

She hadn't realised she had abandoned her hiding spot behind the door.

"Hello, Wanda. I hope I didn't make you wait too long?"

Maybe it was the gentle tone of your voice, or the sound of her name when you said it, like it was the most delicate thing in the world - maybe it was the proof that she mattered so much, that there could be peace in apology, but she burst into tears.

Your approach wasn't rushed, but you were beside her in seconds, embracing her. Maybe that was why she had started sobbing; any excuse to feel your arms around her. Your heartbeat. Your warmth.

It was all possible here. From this vantage point, she could surely do anything.

She sniffed a few times, pulling back. You looked down at her, visibly concerned but not belittling.

"I- I'm fine. Can we talk? On the couch. I need- I need to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Everything."

There was no point in you arguing, saying you didn't need to know. Instead, at her request, you made a batch of coffee as she settled down, joining her once you had filled two mugs and found a tissue box.

She sniffed some more, but finally she was ready. She could do this. She could do anything if it meant you might hug her again, even kiss her. Oh, how she longed to kiss you.

You didn't even look at her expectantly, instead taking her hand, watching them intertwine as if it were the most miraculous thing in this world.

"It started when I demonstrated for Sokovia. For my freedom."

Her tears ran freely again, but she didn't stop.

•••

You

She didn't stop. You said nothing, only holding her hand.

She told you about Hydra, about a man(?) called Vision, about all she had lost, the end of the Avengers as she knew them, so many things in between.

"And now, Vision has every right to hate me for this, but I think..."

She looked you in the eye, steady, as if this were the final hurdle, the last thing to cross off a list of horror stories.

"I think I love you, just like I love this town. I've tried not to, but what's the point? I can't leave here without having tried. For myself, I suppose."

She looked at you, face tear-streaked but lovely, expecting something. Some grand reaction, another horror story to add. You refused. You were burning with love for her.

"Darling," you started slowly, taking her other hand into yours as well, "the day that we met... I had no idea what I was doing. I walked up to you, as you may recall, out of nowhere. A complete stranger. I just knew you needed something. I guess I did too, I just didn't realise it yet. I never could've felt this strongly. Anything. It's all you. You have made my life more lively and I honestly don't fucking care anymore that I'm selfish to want you. I don't want you to leave. Ever."

You didn't know who leaned in first, although later you both claimed it was the other. First, your lips barely brushed against each other, careful, cautious. Then it was over, your lips meeting forcefully, gripping for the other like there would never be another chance.

Something tore through your stomach, a rush of blood perhaps, but it fell like a tidal wave coursing, too big to fit. Nothing did. Nothing fit, but it was good. The way your heart felt like it would burst, like it was straining against confinements - that was good. Only now. Only with her. It was good.

She pulled back gently, and while you were entirely blown away and shocked and ecstatic and on adrenaline, Wanda looked calm, a steady thing in an ocean of unsureness. Her right hand clasped with yours, a delicate gesture for a delicate thing, carefully pulling you off the couch and towards your room.

SMUT STARTS HERE

"Are you sure?" you asked feebly as she closed the door behind her, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Yes. I have waited long enough." You watched as she dragged the auburn skirt and black tights down her legs, fighting with the feet before dismantling all clothes on her upper half.

Wanda was perfect. She always had been, yet there was something about seeing her now, ironically pure, more exposed. Emotionally and physically. There was so much more of her than you could have anticipated, and there would be so much more to come.

She smiled, cheeky and expectant, biting her lip playfully as you dragged off your own pants and boxers, not bothering with the loose t-shirt. She was only wearing panties and a bra - red and lacy.

You crooned forward, laying your hands down on either side of her and leaning in, pushing her down on the bed. Your hands roamed - there was no helping yourself - along the smooth skin of her thighs, the dip of her waist and the roll of her belly. Her breasts spilled out of your hands when you groped them, her hair splaying out over the covers and herself in a way that made her look like a mythological beauty. She might as well have been.

"Wanda," you murmured, not aware of what you exactly you wanted as your colliding lips parted.

"Shh," she answered, unclasping her bra behind her back and running her hands over your chest, below the shirt, eventually pulling you back down by the nape of your neck, out of your hypnosis.

You played with the hem of her panties for a moment, dragging them down to her ankles before throwing them elsewhere. She reciprocated by removing your last bit of clothing, too.

You turned abruptly, pulling her along with your hands on her ass, to lean against the headboard, sitting slanted, with her on your lap. You sent her a questioning look. She lowered herself onto you with something close to rolling her eyes.

Wanda's mouth formed an 'o' shape, and only then did you realise you weren't using any protection. You began to rise, but she held up a finger to stop you, as if she had read your mind.

"I want this."

Maybe you should have insisted or argued, but you didn't. She began rising and falling on your lap, panting as you toyed with her breasts, occasionally pinching or biting her nipples, earning a gasp. Your mouth focused on her neck, her collarbone, her neck again, behind her ear, her cleavage - an unimaginable feast. You ravished her with such concentration it reminded her of your practice.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as her belly pressed against your abdomen. You pressed your hand there and she moaned so loudly, you were sure the neighbours could hear. Well, at least the town would be getting the romance they wanted.

"Oh, God, (y/n), I'm coming! This is- You're-"

You silence her with a kiss, hoping that would say anything that needed to be said as she came, juices spilling out onto the sheets.

"Wanda, I-"

"Do it."

You came as well, filling Wanda to the brim, and while you knew you were supposed to feel regret, none arrived.

SMUT ENDS HERE

She smiled broadly, leaning forwards to conjoin your sweating bodies, her head on your chest. You weren't sure what inspired her smile to grow bigger and bigger, didn't know the importance of a steady heartbeat and deep breaths.

"Is this real?" Wanda whispered, barely audible. Your heart ached.

"Yes. Fuck yes. And I will never let you lose me, unless you want to. It can always be real. As long as you like."

"Thank you."

The silence encompassed you once more, feeding on your thoughts and worries until you were both drowsy and blissed out.

"Wanda?"

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you stop me?"

She manoeuvred her head to look at you, saw the worry in your eyes, only smiled again.

Wanda took your hand, placing it on her abdomen. "This," she emphasised, "is not something I am afraid of, dušica. There is nothing I want as much as children - well, maybe you - and I fear only that I will have them too late."

"Because of you? Us? The dangers?"

She nodded grimly. "We can't expect to live as long as anyone else. Others..." She stared, but at something else, someone far away, and you desperately wanted her back.

"I wonder whose language they'll pick up first. Or maybe they'll just be boring Americans. Wouldn't be too bad."

She laughed, and there she was again, all yours, the past only something passing by.

"I don't know what I want," she whispered once more.

"Neither do I. We'll figure it out, though. All in due time," you promised.

You chuckled just as a bright and suspiciously watery laugh escaped her. "I just thought of Mr. Hill telling us to get exercised," she confessed, giggling, bringing your lips to hers precariously.

This was right. Now. With her. This was right.

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #marvel #mcu fanfiction #smut #x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda x you #wanda marvel #male reader #marvel smut #piv #worship #trauma #part 3 #part 3/3

[plscallmeeren]

S I N C E I L E F T Y O U

Dear beloved,

Since I left you, my wandering mind paints your face in city rivers and finds your outline in the clouds. In a flawless state of thought, I might conjure up another view behind closed lids at night or day. In running rivers, rushing, roaring, I see nothing but your rapid steps and winding wit. When walking through some crowded roads, I find you in all of womankind. They're only concepts made to remind me of all they are missing in your shadow. At times, I've sat with ink and paper in order to expel all this inescapable longing through the voluptuous curves of lazy letters, yet my mind fails to grasp onto what part of you condemned me to this love. I cannot find the right words or ready-chosen attributes in other poems. Nothing of your splendour can be caught in the conceptualised ideals of average beauty. There's something else – perhaps I fear it – perhaps that is how I found the courage to leave.

I assume you know I can't send this. If it can be considered a love poem at all, it is a morbid one. Nothing I could burden you with, no doubt. It will live and wither at the bottom of my cupboard, waiting for me to finally accept this and throw it away.

I love you.

Yes, that is an adequate poem. I will remember to include it in my following letter.

Until the right time comes,

Your secret admirer

たくさんの愛

[plscallmeeren]

Just something from my letter-style Lily Evans fic

Dear beloved,

Do not fret, I'm not yet so mad to write your name at any point in my letters, nor your location or who you're with. Then again, I do encourage you to burn these, as I'm sure you would have, anyway.

I will be writing as often as I can afford, for both your and my entertainment, although I'm sure Prongs suffices on that account on your end.

Cloud recently whispered to me in the middle of a meeting, asking whether we should kiss. Believe me, I was as shocked as you probably are unless you have grown more foolhardy with time. It was only after that I asked him where on earth that came from and he elaborated that he meant we should go and see a band concert called 'Kiss' that recently made its debut.

We can't afford to go, I said. I told him it was too dangerous, I promise. But he was insistent and I can't convince myself to rob him of one of our few pleasures these days.

Upon reflection, I don't know why I wrote that, considering it will only worry you. If I hadn't rewritten this letter twice before already I would scrunch it anew. (If you notice the lines in this paper that look like I might have scrunched it, you haven't.)

I miss you so much, you have no idea.

How is he? You know who I mean. The only one we don't have a code name for yet.

Pink is obsessively disproving of his code name, but we won't be changing it. It's too hilarious to see him get all worked up by such minor things and that's yet another pleasure I wouldn't dare derive from us.

I found a poem by Mary Oliver that by some miracle I hadn't read yet. It is called 'The Old Poets of China' and goes like this:

Wherever I am, the world comes after me.

It offers me its busyness. It does not believe that I do not want it. Now I understand why the old poets of China went so far and high into the mountains, then crept into the pale mist.

I find it beautiful, although all things relatable to a more peaceful time might seem that way. I would do very nearly anything to escape with you and our unnamed one. I would prefer nothing to the pale mists of those tall, intimidating mountains, offering in hints the possibility of rescue.

I do not want this world's business. I do no longer have a moral standing, if that is fair to say. If the one hurting us ruled but no longer hurt, I can't say I would complain. Anything for this to end. Anything for a chance to escape with you to the pale mists of China.

I love you. I love the unnamed one. I am so glad you exist, if only elsewhere, in the dark.

I hope you remain in the dark for those you do not wish seeking you.

I wish you luck.

I wish you patience.

I wish you strength.

Until the right time comes,

Your secret admirer

たくさんの愛

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #harry potter #lily evans #poetry #letters

[plscallmeeren]

S A C R I F I C E

Hermione Jean Granger x Reader

Request: yep

Summary: you've been friends with the trio since first year (they defended you as Draco mocked your father's death at the hands of Bellatrix). You and Hermione became girlfriends in 4th year after the Triwizard tournament

This starts after Harry has told them about what he needs to do etc (you are stressed so Hermione tries to make it all better iykyk) and later an interesting series of events follows the Battle of Hogwarts

Warnings: Swearing; death; injury; magical strap-on with sperm kinda thing idk (r receiving); fisting (H receiving); biting

Word Count: 2.7K+

You slouched on the couch in Gryffindor common room, picking at your fingernails as your mind sucked all the energy out of your living body.

This was big. This would change everything. Things had no business changing. Not now. Not yet.

Hermione sat down beside you slowly, leaning into the curve of your body. You sighed gently, reciprocating the pressure.

"We can do this," she whispered, hardly a breath's worth of effort to move something heavier than iron.

"I know. I do. I just... since my dad-"

"I know," she replied softly. You were inexplicably thankful that she wasn't trying to convince you not to come if she was, considering it would have been pointless. "Come on, let's go."

"Where are we going?" you asked bleakly, letting her drag you up the stairs to her dormitory. "Why?"

"Just trust me," she insisted, shutting the door firmly once you arrived, followed by a very suspicious locking spell, an even more suspicious Muffliato and a screaming Silencio.

You knew where this was going.

"'Mione, I appreciate this, but I don't think it's the time-"

She shushed you, pressing a finger to her lips before disappearing into the bathroom. You sighed. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy sex and obviously looked forward to it, it was just... you felt too worried to give anything else much energy or attention.

You sat down on Hermione's bed, crossing your legs as you stared at the Hollyhead Harpies poster on the opposite wall.

Oh, Harry.

The door to your left opened, and your jaw dropped. There she stood, your gorgeous woman, dressed in crotch-less lingerie that was lacy from the underbelly of her cleavage right down to her hips, only interrupted by some stark black lines of ribbon.

Sex was starting to sound better already.

"You really gonna keep your legs crossed?" she asked, sounding sultry and put out simultaneously.

"Hell, no," you chuckled, spreading your legs over the edge of the bed and licking your lips playfully. "You need some help there?"

"No," she said smugly, making your brows shoot skyward. "I thought considering you usually pleasure me, we should switch things up a little... I wanna give you some comfort."

You simply smirked, awaiting her as she placed the needle on the record player and let it start. Swooning soul music crooned the sway of her hips as she somewhat awkwardly sauntered in your direction.

Hermione sat down on your lap, facing you, pressing her breasts up against your own as you breathed a little heavier, enjoying the sensation of her fingers tracing - tracing everything, everywhere, desperate for something perhaps beyond your mortal body.

"Love, I need-," you started, but she cut you off with a kiss, a mourning drama of lips and promises.

"Take your shirt off. For me."

You complied easily, stripping yourself of all but vulnerability. She rolled her hips against your crotch, extracting a moan through your bound mouth.

Hermione took her time unbuttoning your pants until they were bunched around your ankles. Her teeth grazed your collarbone, pulling at your skin like a faraway pinch.

"I can't do this as well as you," she murmured, still moving languidly to match the music.

"Let me show you." Your own teeth attacked the plush of her cleavage, biting down roughly and licking along the damage with an ironic tenderness that made her moan loudly.

"Yeah, that," she replied breathlessly, diving back into your kiss with just a tad more longing. Purple marks were scattered over her white flesh. "I learned a spell..."

"Yeah?" At this point she was basically humping on your bare thighs.

She retrieved her wand from the bedside table beside her (you hadn't noticed her place it), teasing you as she waved it around indefinitely before pointing it at her pussy. You watched, spellbound, as a sort of cock grew on her - not attached to her skin, but somehow different to the so-called dildos she had told you existed in the muggle world.

"It's called a squirting strap-on. Only it feels more real this way," she whispered, pressing her hard toy against your abdomen before directing it with her own hand towards your entrance. "Lie down."

You did as she asked, lying on the soft bed as she pushed into you, making you groan.

"Fuck," you panted, watching as she disappeared into your cunt again and again. "It feels really damn good, 'Mione."

She simply nodded, concentrated on the swing of her hips to the beat of the swooning music. Her crotch rubbed against your clit by extension, creating friction that formed your mouth into an 'o' shape.

"You ready?" she whined, apparently enjoying everything just as much. You nodded. Presently, hot cum filled you up to the brim, Hermione pulling out wearily as her toy vanished into thin air.

"I think I've gotta pay you back, love."

Hermione grinned as you clambered over the bed weakly to lie over her instead. She gasped as two of your fingers toyed with her pussy, curling inside her as she writhed.

"Oh, Merlyn, (y/n)-" She interrupted herself with an unhinged moan, hips bucking up against your hand as you added another two fingers, your thumb circling her clit. You had to hold her hips down with your other hand so that she'd lie still.

"Be as loud as you like, hon'," you murmured, cherishing her pornographic whimpers and moans. She clenched around your fingers so tightly you wondered whether you could escape, but somehow you managed to thrust in and out of her continuously.

"Oh, Merlyn, oh God, oh-"

Finally you added even your thumb somehow into her tight and pulsing cunt, pressing your entire fist against her walls. She screeched, but no complaint followed as she whined.

You could feel her clenching around you convulsively, shoulder blades cutting into the mattress beneath her with all her will.

"Cum," you ordered softly, and your hand came shooting out just as she did. You looked down at the bed, covered in an entourage of slick.

She groaned, rolling over on the bed and nodding at you to get off so that she could lift the cover. You both rolled under, naked bodies pressed up against each other in something at least as intimate as your previous activity.

"We can do this," she whispered, curling into your embrace even further.

"I know. I never doubted it."

•••

some time later, at the Battle of Hogwarts

Oh hell, no.

You stood close to the door of the Room of Requirement, desperately trying to keep your way out unoccupied.

Hermione, Harry and Ron stood further off, opposite that damn Malfoy, Crabbe and Zabini, who until then, you hadn't even minded.

Times were changing.

You had been too far away to hear the preceding conversation, but it didn't seem to be going particularly well. Great pillars of fire loomed over piles of stuff, taking on shapes of almost mythologically suited faces.

They were looking for something, that much you could see. Brooms, maybe? Oh, Hermione. Why had you ever let you both get into this mess? Why didn't you take the chance when you had it and stayed at that beautiful, godforsaken river you both loved so much? Was there any scenario in which you didn't both end up here? You wanted it. You wanted it bad.

But there was no point grieving for a reality you might never have achieved in the first place. You held the door behind you open, ready for them to come, to fly, to walk, to flee, for this to finally all be over-

A gloved hand grabbed you from behind, its iron grip catching you off guard as it flung you back into the regular old corridor.

Everything spun. This wasn't supposed to happen. Hermione was still inside. Who...?

"We meet again," someone spoke softly, and next thing you knew it was all dark.

You struggled against whoever had their hands clasped around you, the frayed blinding spell cast upon you ridding you of all sense of direction while abiding enough frustration to afford a scream. The steel grip tightened even further.

"Let me go! You've gotta be fucking joking, at least give me a chance at a fair fight-"

A harsh slap across the face shut you up, but no one could steal away your grimace or your ferocious jaw.

Eventually someone lifted the spell - although by then you had been dragged over seven types of undergrowth and rubble - giving you little time to adjust to your surroundings. The nearest thicket of forest trees loomed behind you; towering trees so close together they looked like one.

They were, however, not exactly your priority.

Before you stood Bellatrix - familiar with her wild hair, wild eyes, wild gestures - the woman solely responsible for the death of your ‘blood traitor’ father. She tried to laugh, you thought, but it came out a choked cackle.

“Lookie, lookie, who do we ‘ave ‘ere? Come to join daddy,” she sang, approaching in a sort of drunken strut.

You tried to move. It wouldn’t help. You didn’t have a wand on you anymore. You couldn’t outrun magic. Behind you, someone cast the body-binding hex.

You simply lay there, watching as grinning, malicious, dangerous Bellatrix pointed her wand to her throat before speaking. The mocking sound reached into your head, slithering and oozing right where you couldn’t touch it. “Miss Granger… we would be pleased to meet you at the edge of the forbidden - no, what’s this nonsense? - legitimate forest. Then again, if you are not so pleased, I recommend you invest in a coffin. You’ll need one either way, only…”

She looked you in the eye, a smirk curling at her lips. “Will it be yours or (y/l/n)’s? The choice is yours.”

No. No. No. She couldn’t do this. Hermione wouldn’t come. Right? Hermione was the most clever person this side of Diagon Alley. She wouldn’t come for you. Surely…

Time passed slowly. Excruciatingly slow. You thought it would help if you listened to Bellatrix and Lucius’ conversation, but none of it helped. It was all catching up on who was dead already, and that was about the opposite of what you needed to hear right then.

Just when you were inwardly beginning to melt with relief, she appeared.

Bloodied, determined, bruised, beautiful.

You hated her for coming. You also loved her for it, but that part of you was significantly outweighed.

“(Y/n), are you okay?” she asked frantically, only then realising you couldn’t answer. She turned on Bellatrix, who was looking all too smug.

Hermione fired a spell at her - you couldn’t tell which - but it was easily reflected. Instead, Lucius took over, parrying with Hermione skilfully, neither of them taking a blow or giving one.

Harry appeared on the horizon of your vision, thoroughly panicked. You wondered how Hermione had escaped his and Ron’s sight.

Bellatrix looked down at you, a woozy smile playing at her features as she mouthed at you: “The final hit.”

You wanted to scream. Inside, you were. Oh, this cursed hex, you needed to do something! Harry, anyone!

But before Harry could arrive, Bellatrix lifted her hand and green shot out of it.

Hermione crumpled. She may have fought, though she knew what coming meant, but they hadn’t even bothered to pick you up off the floor or hold a knife to your neck.

Hermione fell. She had done it for you. Not a tear in her eye. Although, maybe you couldn’t tell, the way your vision swam.

Hermione was dead. What had happened to Bellatrix saying you wouldn’t get hurt if she sacrificed herself? What more could she have done to hurt you?

Hermione ended. That was that, you supposed.

•••

When you woke, you were somewhere else. And you could move.

Although weak from inner turmoil, you stood up, turning to see Harry, gasping and panting as he had just dragged you up multiple flights of stairs. You were sick of being dragged.

And then it came back to you. Gushes and streams of dread finding you like water in a desert, completing your miserable state. You almost howled in pain, but Harry clapped a hand over your mouth. Up the stairs, others were fighting. Harry didn’t look too good himself.

“Merlyn, did she actually-“

He nodded tightly. “Yeah. Bellatrix was so happy she literally flew past me and I managed to take Lucius out. She’s still somewhere in the castle. I can’t believe-“

He cut himself off, but you knew just as well what he had wanted to say. You nodded. It should have been anyone else.

You clambered off into a different passageway, eventually arriving at the great hall, which was weighed down by nothing short of disarray. Dead bodies lay everywhere while barely living ones fought standing over them. You couldn’t bare looking.

That is, until you saw Hermione.

Hermione was alive.

Hermione was fighting.

“Harry,” you said shakily, pointing at her unsurely, “did you leave Hermione behind at the forest? We’re- We’re sure she…”

“Yes,” he managed, eyes wide as he watched her fencing with none other than Bellatrix, both of them putting up an enthusiastic fight.

Your mind whirled. It made no sense.

Green began flashing between them as you and Harry hurried over to help - whether it was Hermione or not, anyone who fought Bellatrix was a friend.

She barely dodged, standing precariously as she sent back her own flash of green accompanied by Crucio.

Bellatrix hissed, waving her wand in a very complicated movement before sending a large snake flying in Hermione’s direction. She watched it in glee, too caught up in its sudden disappearance to see Hermione’s next spell coming. You had seen her mouths shape the words Avada Kedavra. You saw Bellatrix freeze, then fall. You saw Hermione turn and meet your gaze, saw her bound towards you now that you had stopped running. What did you care if you were still surrounded by oncoming and lasting death? And yet, somehow, you were surprised when she was in your arms, there, undeniably herself.

Hermione, alive.

“Oh, Merlyn, I thought- How- I saw- I mean-“

She chuckled, tugging you slowly in the safest direction possible, Harry following. “I did, (y/n). I died. But I was at this weird train station then, and it was all white, and Tonks was there for some reason - I don’t know, not like she’s dead, but maybe she’s just who I needed to see at the time.”

You nodded, still following somewhat.

“Anyway, and she told me that because I had died in sacrifice and love I was still so bound to the living, to you, that I could decide where I wanted to go. And, well, I figured you weren’t quite done with me yet.”

You laughed. “That’s so fucking trippy, hon’. I’m so fucking grateful.”

You were in a corner now, further away from all others. You smiled at each other, giddy with happiness, pressing your foreheads together. Harry was a forgotten variable in the background.

“(Y/n)?”

“Yes?”

“I love you so much. I mean, otherwise I’d be dead, right? (Y/n)…Will you marry me?”

You choked on tears. It was too much emotion. First she was dead and then she was asking you to be with her forever.

“Of course,” you whispered.

“I don’t have a ring.”

“Seriously, Hermione, I couldn’t possibly care less. We’ll buy something later to pass on to the kids. We’ll live on the river.”

She laughed. All was perfect in the world.

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #harry potter #smut #x reader #hermione x reader #hermione fanfiction #hermione granger #battle of hogwarts #angst #angst with a happy ending

[plscallmeeren]

H A P P Y A N N I V E R S A R Y

Loki Laufeyson / Odinson x Reader

Request: None I just had this lying around from ages ago

Summary: Loki is thoroughly fed up with his birth family and comes to you (his witchy spouse) for comfort

Warnings: none

Word Count: 900+

You shuffled around the kitchen, deep in thought, unaware that you were humming a soft tune. You hung yet another bunch of thyme to one of the hooks by the window to dry, taking in its scent for a moment.

Today had been a day of tireless planning and you found comfort in the familiar cooking up of a magical brew.

It was nearing Loki and your fifth anniversary and while he might as well have forgotten, (he had a mysterious principle concerning 'anniversaries are no more special than any other night of courtship',) you were determined to make it your best one yet.

The two of you were both quite the romantics and appreciated the quality in one another greatly, although your shared evenings often had to be spent hidden from prying eyes. You were not the kind of witch Freya was, and as supportive as your husband's mother was of your marriage, Odin - and with him the entire kingdom, apparently - was not.

Therefore, it had been a significant struggle to shape plans that for once didn't take place in an abandoned field or a faraway forest - not that those wouldn't forever be your favourite nights.

But you had a plan now that ought to work. A stunning golden ring, a homemade dinner, a fancy bar with trusted workers, a ballroom reserved just for the two of you with a magical source of music... Yes, it would do just fine.

Tearing you from your thoughts you heard rapid knocking that you assumed stemmed from Loki. Not many even knew the whereabouts of your expertly hidden cottage.

Quickly drying off your hands, you hurried to the door, soothingly calling out: "I'm coming, love. Just a moment."

You fingered the unusual door handle for a few moments before the door swung open, but your cheery smile was met with a menacing scowl.

"What's wrong, my beloved?" you spoke softly, closing the door behind him and then taking his face in your hands. "What has that damned father of yours dared this time?"

A moment's silence, in which he led you to the kitchen, slumping into a chair so that you sat across from him.

"I can't believe him!" he said suddenly, taking you momentarily off guard. "And Thor could have stood up for me, too, you know. But he's just a bloody oath, isn't he? Couldn't say a word against his father. Not until he has the crown, at least."

You laid a gentle hand on his knee, tilting your head so that he might continue.

"It's... That- That man spent minutes listing all the reasons I couldn't have claimed the throne even if my brother couldn't take it before me. I wasn't even speaking of it! I get the feeling he brings it up as often as possible just so that he can humiliate me concerning that topic again and again.

'He said- Oh, so, you see, apparently I'm incompetent, weak, do not know the line where negotiation must end so that war can ensue... and much more, of course. And to top it all off, he said I was unfit for the throne simply because at times I may think and be as a woman might. What reason is that? As if my mother couldn't rule infinitely better than him, not to mention you, or even Sif. He has no right!"

You could see the tears collecting in Loki's eyes so you stood to firmly wrap your arms around him.

"It's not right," he murmured against the fabric of your shirt.

"No, my love, it's not." You glanced back at the kitchen, quickly rethinking your plans. "Let's stay in tonight. I made dinner."

You couldn't completely dispel the tinge of disappointment you felt from all the work that had flourished into planning, but it didn't matter. Whatever he needed.

"Thank you," he said absently, staring through the window. "Do you agree? Is Thor truly that much better? Would you rather have taken-"

You cut him off before he could finish: "No, of course not. I love Thor like my own brother, but he is not clever or witty or handsome like you... neither can he recite poetry or negotiate with a wild bandit as well as he could defeat them. That's all you, darling."

He stared up at you from where he sat, still teary-eyed and nearly awe-struck. "Thank you," he said again, but this time it was barely a whisper.

"I need you to understand that for any fault you may have, I would take you over any other in this world or the next. Do you? Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"And even if you were not fit to be king, which I do not believe, you would be a better one than your father, and you will find yourself talented enough to do anything you set your mind on. All of it."

His hand reached up, cupping your jaw as he smiled, pulling you down gently so that your lips brushed against one another.

"Happy anniversary, love," he breathed.

"Thank you," you answered.

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #marvel #mcu fanfiction #reader #gender neutral reader #loki laufeyson #loki #mcu loki #loki odinson #loki x reader #family #x reader #male reader

[plscallmeeren]

YOU REMEMBER

(Aged Up) Michelle 'MJ' Jones x Reader

Request: yeah

Summary: ok so (y/n) is basically Peter (Tom Holland) and Peter is just like Ned 2.0

It's after No Way Home so no one remembers him and MJ, Ned and Peter are off to college (you've also lost all your humour and happiness in case u were wondering)

Anyways things happen and memories are triggered.... Enjoy I have edited nothing as usual (it's so late I'm so tired wtf)

Warnings: Swearing; sad MJ; yelling/fighting

Word Count: 2.6K+

You watched from a rooftop as New York teemed with activity even in the dead of night - not that that was anything unusual. Crowds of party-goers cheered with joints in hand. Mini-supermarket clerks filled out expert crosswords while casual thieves slipped candy into their pockets. Burnt-out child hackers typed ferociously in the hopes of pirating a new online game.

Those were your lesser worries. Those weren't the things you dared worry about. Not that you worried much these days. None of it mattered much, anyway. No one was there to care if you failed at what you had tasked yourself with for eternity.

You brushed down your dirtied red and black skintight suit, to no avail. That didn't matter, either.

This was peace. Peace was leaning back against the cold concrete. Peace was pressing »play« on your playlist and hearing Sweet Gene Vincent ramble around the murky night air like a newer, cleaner mist with a Cockney accent and punk ideals. Peace was pulling out your phone and looking at old photos of you and your former girlfriend and friends even though you knew you couldn't afford the emotional exhaustion. Peace was finally letting all those tears slide from beneath folds of harsh ignorance. That was peace now.

It wasn't always like that. It used to be lying around the living room, spread out on couches, with Peter and Ned telling you about the new Lego Death Star with an electronic component and MJ lying across your lap with a smile that suggested they were being stupid as she stared lovingly up at you as you ran your fingers through her curled hair.

But that sort of peace wasn't possible anymore, so there was no point seeking or missing it.

A picture of Ned and Peter grinning like idiots as they stood in front of the cinema to watch a rerun of Alien slid across the screen.

It was replaced by an image of MJ smiling back at you, mockingly signing 'metal' with one hand as her foreshortened feet lay closer to you and the camera.

You turned your phone off. A police siren wailed pathetically in the distance like a droning call for help.

Peace was over.

•••

Massachusetts

The Hercules cafe bustled with customers overflowing the nine-person chair budget.

MJ, Peter and Ned were positioned fortunately in the best corner beside the window. It was about lunch time - peak hour at that particular instalment - but the three had arrived hours earlier already.

"Mrs. Zeis is killing me," Ned was complaining, only stopping to sip at his strawberry milkshake. "Two protocols, one theory essay and an experiment setup? Does she not remember we have other subjects, too?"

The snarky waitress who never wore a name tag - the counterpart to exaggeratedly sweet Mr. Lang - strode up to them, snarling. "Will you be here much longer? We have other customers, y'know."

"Yeah, we'll have another chocolate milkshake, thanks," MJ dismissed her smoothly, turning back to her friends.

"Yeah, she's pretty bad," Peter continued for Ned. "I wrote an essay once I knew was bad but I hadn't had time to do it properly and she literally just ripped it apart."

"That's cruel," MJ conceded, smiling as Mr. Lang brought her her order. "Any chance you'll be rid of her for the last semester?"

"Not really," Ned sighed in exasperation.

"I will," Peter added cheerily, stealing Ned's straw and slurping a great deal of milkshake away from him. Ned stared on in horror.

The waitress came up to them again, but before she could dart out that poised tongue Ned was reminding her they weren't finished. She walked away with such impotence as if they had greatly insulted her.

"I can't believe we're graduating so soon... I'm looking forward to Manhattan. It's not really a great place looking back but it'll always be home," MJ said thoughtfully, chewing on her straw.

"Yeah. We had some great times," Peter smiled, handing Ned his latte in attempted reconciliation.

"Yeah," Ned added dreamily.

MJ nodded. Then: "Hey, I'm getting major Deja vu right now. Either of you?"

"Nah, not really," Ned admitted sheepishly as Peter simply shook his head.

"Huh."

They were all silent for a moment, all in their own worlds, when Peter spoke up again: "I know this sounds totally out there and weird, but do you sometimes feel like someone's missing? I mean, like there should be a fourth of us? I don't know, maybe I'm just-"

"No, you're not wrong," MJ interrupted, peering around the cafe as if something might be written on the walls in reply.

"Hey, MJ," Ned said slowly, some eerie disturbance creeping up on his usual voice. "Where did you actually get your necklace? I mean, you wear it every day, so I just... I don't know why I thought of it..."

She looked down at where her black dahlia necklace rested on her collarbone.

She stared. There was something familiar about it, and yet it was like she no longer knew it or why it was there. But she did, didn't she? She had been wearing it every day for years since...

(Y/n).

"Are you okay? You look a bit pale," Peter commented, casting a sidelong glance at Ned, who looked similarly anxious about the look on their friend's face.

It was all coming back to her. Rushing, roaring memories like tidal waves washing up to a shore that had been awaiting them for a decade too long.

"It's (y/n). He's missing," she murmured, standing up straight in seconds and rushing right past the returning waitress, almost making her fall over.

"Children! That's what you are!" she yelled after her, but MJ could hardly hear anything beyond her beating heart and gaping lungs.

•••

You lazily pressed the »play« buttons on the remote, refocusing your attention on your Chinese takeaway as He's Just Not That Into You started. It was going to be stupid. You knew that. Scarlet Johansson was in it, though, so you didn't particularly care. Stupid was good once in a while, anyway.

Your mobile buzzed, making you groan as you set your food back down to get it from the faraway table.

[phone]

Probably another scam, you thought in slight disappointment, but not much surprise. You hung up. There was no one to call you, anyway.

You sat back down on your bed which acted as a couch at times like these and pulled the Chinese food back into your lap. The credits rolled.

Your phone buzzed again. Unfortunately for your innocent food, you almost completely spilled it slamming it back down on the table to reach your phone again.

[phone]

You hung up again, muttering to yourself about stupid people and their stupid money scams. You wondered if you could pay not to get scammed and then realised you were in the same issue all over again. Except maybe they wouldn't interrupt takeaway night as much.

Far away one truly stubborn woman decided she was not having your bullshit and booked the next flight to New York she could find.

•••

MJ had travelled once across Manhattan and still she hadn't found even half a lead on your whereabouts.

She was close to despairing after finding your old apartment empty, countless people who should have known you to render your name foreign and only Delmar who knew of an old boyfriend of hers at all - though even he thought he hadn't seen you in more than a couple of years.

Until she saw you.

You were walking harmlessly along in your favourite black hoodie - one thing that you wouldn't let change - when you saw her, too. Or, someone who looked like her. It couldn't be. What was she doing here? She was supposed to be in Massachusetts. Far away from all of this.

You quickly turned a corner, hoping whatever psychotic trauma you were reliving at that moment would quickly pass.

She couldn't be there. You had made sure of that. Dr. Strange had made sure of that. She was safe. Ned was safe. So was Peter. She's safe.

Your inner voice repeated it like a mantra, following you the entire rushed way to your apartment building and up its concrete wasteland stairs. You stood before your door, shaking, trembling, scrunching your eyes closed to reassure yourself her familiar gaze wasn't on your back.

You were right. You had lost her. Both now and then.

You fought a losing battle with the rusty lock on your door until it finally gave in out of pity, its swinging whine stolen and replaced by your own breathless sigh.

You kicked it shut, not bothering to lock it, considering there was hardly anyone who'd be much trouble to you in Manhattan - and if they were, no lock would stop them, most likely.

Collapsing on the mattress, the bare room's singular comforting component, your head landed in your hands as heavily as lead weight. It hurt so much. It didn't matter if it had been her or not. She would never be yours again.

You looked around your place. Nothing felt like yours anymore. This fridge with a spoon, fork and plate next to it, this iPhone charger and mattress, microwave and a closet with so few clothes the spider suit almost stood out - none of it held any identity you could associate with yourself. None.

The door creaked again, and this time there was no heaving breath to hide it.

"(Y/n)?"

Please no. Please not now, not here, not unprepared... She can't be here. She was safe. I kept it that way.

She repeated your name, but your fingers only tightened their deadly grip around the sheet. Silence. Finally, you looked up, because you were almost convinced, almost hopeful that familiar voice had been a fragment of your imagination or she had decided you a lost cause and left after all.

She was still there. Your body sagged in upset.

"Do you even eat?" she snapped, and you wondered whether she had meant it to be so harsh. More words followed, each cracking like a whip also. You plead mercy with your emotional masochism. "You haven't brushed your hair in days - don't deny it, I know how it looks. You practically have bruises under your eyes. You're like a bag of bones; no exercise, no good food, right?"

You didn't answer, simply staring at her. She was so beautiful.

"God, (y/n)," she whispered, voice so soft it hurt more; the way it cradled you while it lasted and dropped you from its billowing clouds far higher up than anything else. Her pain crawled as ugly tendrils across the floor and through the very soles of your feet to the weight in your lungs.

Silence, again.

"You remember," you stated deftly, but nothing in you wanted to accept it. It couldn't be. It just couldn't.

And yet... she had remembered. Your relationship had been so strong, she had remembered. How? Curiosity danced groggily on the sidelines of your train of thought.

"Yeah. Remember this?" MJ lifted the dahlia necklace from her chest, holding it up for you to see. You did. An array of yellowing memories about your trip to France all those years ago flashed before your eyes, reminding you of every reason you had to buy it for her and every reason you should have been bursting with happiness at the fact she was standing before you.

"How did you find me?" you asked instead, earning a deserved scoff.

"I told you I'd track you down." She clenched her jaw, as if remembering how angry she was. "You promised." It was a quiet reminder, but stone in its sureness.

Your muscles tightened as you looked away. You couldn't bare it. You were certain you had done the right thing, and yet...

"You promised you would find us," she repeated, a little louder.

Still, you didn't answer.

"Look at me!" she finally yelled, making you jump, staring at her with wide eyes. She never used to be so loud. She never shouted, even when you fought. She had changed... or maybe you had given her reason to.

Tears threatened to escape her, but her expression remained firm, impossible.

"I did. I was there, just like I promised," you admitted slowly, enunciating every word so that you may never have to say any again. "I saw you, MJ. With Peter and Ned. And it was just... it was so clear you were better off without me. Without this huge Spider-Man burden on your back. You were safe not knowing me."

"So, let me get this straight," she started, in a way that unlike before was similar to the way she usually talked. Casual-sounding, light. "Not only did you assume what was best for us and ignored what we wanted, but you also - for even a second - thought I could survive seeing you like this? You really weren't planning on finding us? Ever?"

Your stood, leaning clumsily against the mattress as you watched her. You didn't need to reply.

"No. No. I won't have this. You need to apologise. You need to- to- I don't know. Make it up to us. You think this is okay? You think this way of living works? Well, it doesn't. The Bell Jar isn't this fucking depressing."

You winced. She always referenced that book when she was calling something fucked up. She began crying properly now.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'll do anything. There's nothing like this feeling that you could be responsible for the death of someone you love, MJ. That's not an excuse, but it's a pretty damn good reason. I understand you're angry, but you've gotta understand, too. You were everything. You are. I can watch from afar, but I can't watch everything end. If you're worried about me, worry about that. Your end would be my end. My fucking end, okay?"

Her chest heaved in wet sobs. You had only seen her cry three times before in all this time. You hated it. You pressed a finger to your cheek and realised you were crying, too.

"It's not fair. It's not fair," she sobbed, gesturing wildly in the air, her curls pushed to one side.

"I know. I know. Nothing's bloody fair," you sniffed, approaching her slowly, as if she were a shy animal, a stranger, perhaps.

It didn't take much. She slumped into your opening arms with all of her force behind her. Tears of yours mingled with hers on your shoulders and in each other's hair. Everything seemed tinged with the distant taste of salt.

She looked up at you, and suddenly your lips were connected once more, though it was sloppy and damp and certainly not your best kiss. But it was something. It gave your dingy kitchenette character and your mattress the air of a childhood sleepover in the living room.

"I won't leave you alone. Ever. You need to understand that. Whether you like it or not. You get it?" she murmured beside your ear.

You wanted to answer something romantic, something impressive, something to look back on - but all you could manage was a string of shaky "you remember"s.

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #marvel #mcu fanfiction #mj #michelle jones #peter parker #tom holland #mj x reader #x male reader #male reader #Ned #x yn #yn #spiderman #Spider-Man reader

[plscallmeeren]

W H E R E ?

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Request: yes @JulzLovDraco4Eva

Summary: it's year 7 (so everyone's of age remember that) and muggle-born (y/n) is caught at Malfoy Manor and given to Draco so that he can get answers out of her concerning Harry's whereabouts....... Yeah well guess how he gets them huh

Warnings: !!Rape!! while (y/n) does enjoy the experience there is no given consent - do not read if this could make you uncomfortable; breeding fetish; unprotected piv; bondage; spanking; anal; toys; biting; swearing; not proof-read at ALL (fun fact I've never had so many warnings before)

Word Count: 1.6K+

Lucius Malfoy gave his son a hard look, patting him on the shoulder briskly. "I expect you'll employ every method necessary to find Potter's whereabouts?"

"Yes, father." Draco wasn't looking at him, but instead at the fierce-looking girl bound by her wrists, discarded at the foot of his door.

"Any methods, understand?"

"Yes," the boy replied sharply, finally turning to meet his father's glare. "Go on. I'm sure you have better things to do. I'll get the information."

Lucius nodded curtly, striding off down the dark corridors of his manor.

Draco looked back at you, taking notice of the loose black dress that fell in waves around your body. Your waist was outlined by a modern corset with the lace at the front. You snarled at him, terrified, but he had hurt your pride by making torturing you sound so easy.

He gripped you by the nape of your neck, practically throwing you inside his room and closing the door behind him. He cast Muffliato, Silencio and every other spell he could think of before focusing his undivided attention on you. The other Death Eaters delighted in hearing victims' screams half the time, but he refused to give them the satisfaction. Your screams belonged to him, and him only.

"We've come a long way, haven't we, Malfoy? I remember Potions with you. You were a damn good partner, but I should have tipped one of those acidic draughts on you when I had the fucking chance-"

He delivered a harsh slap across your face, silencing you. It didn't hurt that much, but it was a fair warning of how helpless you were in this situation.

"I remember those classes, too. I remember imagining you in my bed and me fucking you until you cried. But don't worry," his lips twisted in a wicked smirk, "I have much more interesting fantasies now."

He edged closer, and you watched with wide eyes as he hoisted you up and laid you down on his king-sized bed. A luxurious bed. A luxury that might teach you pain.

"Fuck me, (y/n). Take my cock. Or are you scared?" He sounded mocking, but you wouldn't have it.

"No, honey, I just have a decent amount of self-respect," you chided, craning your neck to look him in the eye from where you lay on those velvety covers.

"Take me. I won't take no for an answer," he growled. You shook your head. "I want you. I need you. And I need you to tell me where Potter is."

"No," you spat, encompassing all of his apparent needs. You didn't care. You couldn't. He was horrible. Why would you? Right?

"Tough luck," he grimaced, and in one swift motion he had ripped the thin fabric of your dress, tugging it off your body on either side of your corset.

You bit your tongue trying to keep quiet as he dragged you to the edge of the bed, undoing the knot at the top of the corset and yanking on the strings brutally. You felt like you couldn't breathe. You were almost entirely bare and there wasn't enough oxygen in your brain and you felt slightly dizzy and something must have been very wrong because suddenly in this light he looked beautiful...

"There, that's better. You're thinking too much," he purred, tying a new knot so that it remained unbearably tight around your tummy. "Now... you still going to put up a fight?"

You didn't reply.

"Answer me, slut," he snapped, lightly slapping your pussy through the fabric of your panties. You became painfully aware that he could pull those off, too - that you would have to succumb to whatever he wanted.

"Malfoy...," you murmured, and apparently that was enough.

He dragged your black panties down your legs, followed by the bra cupping your weight. You were entirely naked apart from the corset. Your wrists were tied by spell and your wand couldn't reach you here. His handsome image swum before your eyes.

Draco flipped you over, pulling your ass up towards the ceiling. Your elbows dug into the covers as his hands man-handled your buttocks roughly, coming down in a merciless spank once. You flinched, but he didn't seem to care.

"You won't be talking back to me from now on, I expect?" he threatened casually, throwing in another spark on your ass.

"No," you whimpered, subconsciously leaning into his touch.

"Good. And you won't be complaining or resisting?"

Just as you were about to answer, he slid halfway into your ass with only his own pre-cum as lubricant. You moaned accidentally at the pleasurable pain.

"Not answering me again? What good is that? Where's Potter? Where?" He spanked you again.

"N-No, I'll behave, but I won't tell you, I can't-"

He pushed himself further in, the pain now overwhelming the enjoyable quality. Nevertheless, he waited a moment, not torturing you beyond repair, giving you time to adjust. Maybe he wasn't entirely cruel? No, what were you thinking? He was fucking you against your will, not taking no for an answer, looking at you with some sort or adoration...

You forgot what your train of thoughts had been up until that point, simply staring as best you could considering your body faced away from him.

"C'mon, slut. Tell me," he ordered, pinching your clit with two fine fingers. You gasped, but didn't answer his question.

You didn't know if he forgot to ask, or if he gave up, or if he simply didn't care, but he wouldn't ask again.

Suddenly he was pushing two fingers into your virgin cunt like a chanting prayer - in and out and curling and winding. It felt so good. Tight and claustrophobic, but impossibly good.

Just as you were beginning to fully appreciate the way his digits pressed against the same wall that met his cock on the other side, he pulled out - all of it - and walked away. He left you whining and thrashing on his duvet, reluctantly wishing he would return. Somehow, you managed to roll over.

You couldn't believe it. You wanted him to fuck you. You needed him to fuck you. Hell, it hurt, but every part of you was screaming for him to consume, to ravage, to... to...

He did return.

He returned holding three common pegs, as if they had been picked straight off of the washing line or handed to him by house-elves.

Draco silently attached one to both of your nipples, grinning wickedly as you groaned in immediate pain. It hurt. You felt fuzzy from lack of oxygen, but you knew it hurt.

Finally he clamped one onto your clit, making you writhe. He didn't take it off. Instead, he leaned over you, whispering in your ear. It made you feel warm and funny inside. "(Y/n), I'm going to mark you, and it will be much worse than my Dark Mark or a scar reading 'muggle' or anything else... because not only will it be permanent, but it will bring shame upon you, and everyone will know you enjoyed a Death Eater fucking you."

The words didn't make sense, but in your shape, you could hardly tell.

He bit into the flesh of your shoulder harshly, fuelled by your ongoing moans as he moved from your breasts to your throat and back again. You looked a mess - tears streaming, leftover rips of fabric, the colourful marks and bites of a wild man.

It felt so good.

Before you knew it his entire fist was in your pulsating cunt, thrusting from within and hurting and hurting more but feeling incredibly good and full.

Still, you wanted him.

"Push my fist out of your pussy, darling," he whispered. So you did. You pushed with all the muscles of your abdomen until his hand dislodged from your cunt, along with a burst of ecstasy by the name of orgasm.

"Good girl," he reassured you, watching the mix of blood and cum on his bed. "Good girl. Now it's my turn."

He quickly undid his belt, discarding it somewhere in the room before pulling down his pants. His cock was bigger than you had expected - but then again, you didn't have much experience in these sorts of things and you weren't thinking right.

Just as he slipped into you - no coverage - he pulled off the two pegs on your nipples, causing an explosion of agony to rip through your body as he began pounding into you.

"D-Draco," you managed, watching his bare cock slam into your ripe cunt.

"Yes, (y/n)?"

You changed you mind, or rather, you forgot what you were going to say. Instead, you told him: "I want you."

Unlike what you had expected, he reacted with gentleness, slowing his pace, moving in curved, cleaner motions. "I want you, too. I'm glad you see it now."

"Draco?" you prompted, regaining your breath as you enjoyed less sore but still ecstatic sensations.

"Mhm?"

"Harry, Ron and Hermione were at Grimmauld place last I heard."

He bummed again, but didn't reply. He hadn't been craving that information. That wasn't why he did this. "I'm coming," he grunted, then stayed in your pussy until his own juices were leaking from your folds.

You panted, shifting your body above your magical bounds to get more comfortable.

You didn't want anything but him, either. But what a crazed way to find out.

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #harry potter #angry smut #smut #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #draco fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #bd/sm kink #breeding k1nk #bond@ge #sub reader #dom Draco Malfoy #death eaters #biting #discipline

[plscallmeeren]

C I T I Z E N S O F W E S T V I E W P T 2

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Request: yep

Summary: part 2 lol (btw I added some things to the request hope you don't mind)

Warnings: absolutely none

Word Count: 1.6K+

Wanda peered through the heavy oak door leading to your apartment, gaze flicking tiredly from one unusual carpet to another Eastern lamp. And yet, as she observed every object and decoration in the place, she realised there really wasn't that much around - less, at least, than in an average home.

"You don't have very much," she said simply, the Sokovian accent she harboured thickening as an urge for sleep faded the edges of her vision. Any energy she usually held for advanced English had already laid down beside her end of the conversation.

"It's all good quality. You'll never believe where I got this light," you replied proudly, gesturing at an orange paper hanging lamp.

"I suppose I wouldn't," she murmured, running smooth hands over the even smoother wood of an old armchair.

Her sight lingered on a rack to her left, standing out with shining blades against the cream of the wall. The longest in the stack of three emanated the unmistakeable atmosphere of magic.

"It's overwhelming, isn't it?" you said softly, sensing her thoughts. "Look, we'll talk more in the morning, I promise, but you're obviously exhausted and I can't say I'm feeling too chirpy myself. It's late. Get some rest first. We'll worry about magic swords in the morning. I promise."

Wanda hesitated, glancing at the sharpened and likely deadly weapons on your wall, but was overcome with a wave of drowsiness so strong she wondered if maybe you were toying with her mind. If so, you had done a mighty good job; making her feel safe, luring her into your home, into vulnerability. But she doubted it - and even if she was wrong, she was sure she could take you.

Then the stroke of genius occurred to her - why not just read your mind? It might tickle, but otherwise people didn't tend to notice if she didn't want them to.

She attempted, slithering past some initial mental barriers every brain requires for sanity's sake, diving deeper-

"I'd be impressed if you could see anything against my will," your voice filled her head, and although your back was turned, she could feel the grin on your face. "You're welcome to try."

"And you think you could get past me?" she challenged, vanity seeping through her as a last resort.

"Yes."

"Try."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Try your hardest."

A flash of images and pasts and thoughts and nightmares flashed beneath Wanda's lids, an array of concepts that made up Plato's idea of her. She had had no idea how powerful the feeling was if a mind-reader allowed their victim to see what they were doing. Nevertheless, although proving how old and deeper knowledge you could dig up, she noticed how it was never anything vulnerable, anything that could hurt. She still couldn't stop you.

You were avoiding them for her sake, even though she had provoked you.

You stopped. You had made your point and that was enough. She stared, but didn't say anything. You had half-expected the unjustified upset and anger of doing what she had said you should, but it never came. She seemed lost for words.

"That was incredible," she projected the thought into your mind, making you smile.

"Come on, I have a spare room."

You led her around the corner of the kitchen and up some stairs, holding the painted door open chivalrously. She curtsied in good humour, passing through.

You handed her a towel silently, refusing her help in making the bed, letting her watch from the desk chair instead. When she thought you weren't looking, you noticed - or maybe you sensed - how much she appreciated someone doing something as simple as making a bed for her.

"Good night," you murmured once she returned from washing up, already folded up underneath the copious covers. You would have offered her clothes, but her breathing had already evened.

It would have been so easy to intrude just a little, just enough to see why she was feeling so unwell. She would never know. But you didn't ever seriously consider it. You couldn't imagine the guilt of breaching her privacy that way.

You closed the door behind you, leaving the small reddened lamp on in case she didn't like the dark.

•••

Wanda awoke with a start.

She had slept peacefully until the nightmares had crept in along the edges, stains of blood and madness dismissing her simple dreams of life as she knew it or other cleansing of the mind. She forgot it all the moment her eyes opened, only Vision's mangled body still imprinted on the inside of her lids when she attempted rest.

She sat up. At the edge of the bed, two folded piles of clothes awaited her. One of them consisted of a red shirt and blue pants (she ignored her thoughts when they wondered which woman you had them from) and the other of a comfy flannelette shirt, sweatpants and woollen socks. She opted for the second.

A part of her was disturbed by the concept of someone being in the room while she was asleep and her not noticing, but still that nonsensical trust and arrogance overruled all else.

The scent of coffee invaded her senses as she grew more aware of her surroundings. It smelled delicious and perfect in that moment.

She wandered downstairs tentatively, stepping lightly in some childish attempt to sneak up on you.

By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, she was sure she had the element of surprise under control.

"Morning, darling," you greeted smugly, smirking as you briskly turned around, presenting her with a cup of coffee. "Sugar? Milk?"

"Oh, yes, um, both," she muttered, feeling slightly insulted at how she had been noticed.

You nodded, placing the cup on the counter and pulling out all she required. You stepped back so that she could add as much as she wanted herself.

Wanda looked you once up and down, taking note of your black shirt and black sweatpants, the way the melted together at every languid motion you made. You looked like you were dancing as you crossed the kitchen, back and forth, mixing together the batter for pancakes.

"Pancakes? How did you know-" She interrupted herself upon realisation. "You remembered what you saw last night, didn't you? Me eating with my family?" She thought she might cry at the memory of them all, but other than the salty taste of saliva it just felt like a problem of the past.

She couldn't believe how good she felt all things considered. Neither could you.

"Wait- Did you read my mind again before? Is that how you knew I was there?"

"No, love. I don't need telepathy to sense your presence," you humoured, winking at her playfully. She scoffed, but the smile on her face was undeniable.

"And... here," you said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, throwing the last pancake onto the plate and flicking the stove off. "Let's sit down, shall we?"

Wanda nodded, taking a seat across from you and snatching two pancakes at once. She could think of at least a hundred questions to ask you, but none of them felt like good opening lines.

Finally, she decided. "Are the decorations Japanese? They look sort of... well, not Western. And you. You look... I'm not sure how you look, but judging by your home, I'm wondering whether you're Japanese also?"

"Yeah. My mother's Japanese, and she raised me, so I'm more used to eastern places and behaviour. By the way, you don't have to hide your accent. I love hearing it."

You had picked up on how her accent had lessened by a mile that morning, feeling a little sad to see it go. She smiled.

"Okay." You could immediately hear the difference.

"Thanks. Anyway, yeah, it's a bit hard implementing paper walls, but otherwise..." She giggled, surprising both of you.

"Do you speak Japanese?"

"Yeah. Kesa wa kireidesu ne / 今朝は綺麗ですね." (You look beautiful this morning.)

"And what does that mean?" she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"あなたには決して分からないかもしれません," you replied smoothly, taking a bite off your pancake. (You may never know.)

"Звучи лепо, згодно, али волео бих да знам шта говориш," she countered in her own Native tongue, sipping at her coffee, grinning. You looked back at her, impressed. (It sounds nice, handsome one, but I'd love to know what you're saying.)

"それはあなたから魔法のように聞こえます。" (That sounds magical coming from you.)

You both smirked, tucking into your breakfast instead of talking for a moment, occasionally making a comment on the food in your own languages. You both loved the sound of the other talking, no matter what they were saying.

Eventually, you decided on successful communication, and in English, Wanda asked at least half the questions she wanted answers to. You replied to every one. Neither of you held back in your accents and only at three in the afternoon did you realise how long ago you had finished eating.

——————-

So much fluff

Fun fact I've actually learned a bit of Japanese over the years and about one and a half of those sentences was my own....... I know, I know, I'm incredible, right? Anyways looking at foreign typography always makes me happy tbh

I'm snowed into my friends' house and can't keep reading my exciting book at home how's your day? It's kinda a vibe tho I've never been snowed in before

Have a great day lovelies

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #marvel #mcu fanfiction #wanda x y/n #wanda fanfic #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x reader #x male reader #male reader

[plscallmeeren]

A Night to Remember

Sirius Black x Reader

Request: yesss @JulzLovDraco4Eva

Summary: you are lily's twin sister and after being saved from muggle-born-based bullying by the Marauders in first year, you've become Sirius' closest friend. It's the holidays before 6th year and everyone is invited to James' house, except no one likes the state Sirius shows up in... can I call this a Christmas special? I really shouldn't

Warnings: Swearing; mentions of mental and physical abuse; injury; seriously sad Sirius; not proofread

Word Count: 2.4K

"Did you see her face?" James roared, stepping aside absently for his mother to get past him to vacuum. "I mean, pure high comedy, guys, seriously."

Peter sniggered at the centre of the couch, gnawing on a candy cane he stole from the Christmas tree.

Remus looked like he was straining to hear, lying on the floor and rolling over occasionally for Mrs. Potter to remove the pine needles from the floor. One time the vacuum attached itself to his jumper, inciting quite the kerfuffle.

You sat with a leg draped over the edge of the sofa, eating a caramel apple from that day's batch. Beneath you Lily was propped up against the fabric, leaning her head on your abdomen.

"I think I'd hit that, though," James continued, blanching when his mother glared at him, agape. "Sorry, mum, I was just joking. Y'know, peer pressure."

She snorted. "I doubt your friends here are dying to take Professor McGonnagle to bed, dear," she menaced, tugging at his ear gently on the way out of the room. "Save the dirty talk for when I'm not around!"

James looked slightly sick, which of course made you all burst out laughing.

It felt like Christmas already.

The whole room was dipped in a yellowing light that faded at the edges, the Christmas tree standing proudly in all its glory, it's baubles and tinsel and shining stars reflecting the glowing candlelight and desk lamp.

Remus pulled a face from the floor, grinning at his distorted image.

"Speaking of dirty-," James started, making Remus, Lily and you groan while Peter perked up, fascinated. "What, you acting all peachy now as if we'd never talked sex?"

"We never talked about it as much as you," you protested, lifting your coffee from the table and handing Peter his cocoa, licking the last of the caramel from your fingers.

"Well, what can I say? Bloody pussies. Anyways, this is mainly directed at you, Lily, but I was thinking... we should try doing some more kinky things, like bondage, sa-"

"Bloody hell, man."

"Shut up, James."

"Aren't you scared your mother's around the corner?"

"I cry for you, sister dear," you sighed, knowing for a fact they hadn't even fucked yet. "And for you, James - so desperate to prove and to overcompensate."

Remus snickered, Peter's eyes went wide.

"I have nothing to overcompensate for," James retaliated, finally sitting down on the coffee table. That alone earned a glare from Lily. "And what about you, huh, (y/n/n)? Where's your boyfriend?"

"Fuck's sake, James, you know there's no one around here in my league," you cooed, sparing a glance at your watch. "Hey, when's Sirius coming? Was he gonna be late?"

Lily frowned. "We mention boyfriends and you bring up Sirius?"

"Suspicious," Remus added.

"Seriously suspicious," James said smugly. "But no, he should already be here. Guess he got caught up with his mum or something."

Your heart sunk. He was right, of course, but the mere thought of Sirius' parents filled you with leaden dread. No good news ever came of them, and undoubtedly very little would. You had heard countless stories in vulnerable moments or disguised as jokes; stoned confessions or drunken retellings.

None of them were good.

"Great. Just great."

"I really worry for him sometimes," Remus admitted, sitting up and crossing his legs. "He's not safe there."

You all nodded in agreement. The conversation moved on, but your mind was stuck on a certain boy.

The doorbell rang cheerily.

"That must be him," James called, putting down his cocoa carefully and happily making his way to the door. You breathed a sigh of relief, smiling to yourself as you heard his scuffling footsteps.

What you were not expecting was a strangled scream, a desperate cry for someone, anyone to come.

You all jumped up, you almost kicking Lily's face in the process, rushing to the door as Mrs. Potter thundered down the stairs elsewhere.

At the door you weren't met with the slightest relief, but with complete and utter horror.

There stood Sirius, beautiful Sirius, suitcase in hand, out of breath. His face looked torn as if by a bread knife, reaching from the left corner of his mouth to the apple of his cheekbone. A bruise was forming over his right eye and his clothes held the subtle scent of smoke. The blood trickled down his face to his neck and through his white shirt as James stepped away in fear. Red bloomed somewhere near his chest, deeper the closer you looked. He slumped to one side.

Lily and you didn't hesitate, unlike James, who was hyperventilating, and Remus, who was murmuring things under his breath he probably couldn't hear himself.

Lily grabbed him under the arms as he fell, guiding him to the inside floor gently. You perched in front of him, ripping open his shirt and losing some buttons, biting down on your tongue as you saw the rectangular burn bloodied with tissue damage. You tried pushing the gash on his cheek together, but being awkwardly crouching above him, you were half-afraid you'd fall over and rip something else open that was supposed to be very keenly connected.

"Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," Remus whimpered, but it felt like far away, a distant body of yours hearing his words even as Sirius was taken from you by Mrs. Potter. You didn't move for a moment, not realising what had happened, and by the time you were racing to the dining room to follow she had shut the door behind her, saying (most unhelpfully) that he would be alright.

Your chest heaved. Your shoulder was vaguely aware of Lily's weight, but it didn't matter. Sirius was in there, hurting. Hurting because of something presumably his parents did to him. Presumably with a fire spade and a kitchen knife and the knob of a very particular and expensive cane. Merlyn, you couldn't breathe.

The door creaked open slightly, James' mother poking her head out. Her face was awfully pale, but a determined peace had settled on her face.

"James, dear, help me get him up to the room he was going to stay in, will you? He'll need a bit more patching up, but after that he'll just need to rest." She seemed to sense your thoughts, answering your unasked question: "I'd ask you to help, dear, but you're looking a little faint yourself."

You just stared, letting Remus and Peter tug you away while Lily provided some extra support to James and his mother. You felt useless. You wanted to do something. You wished you could breathe or see properly, too.

"He'll be fine," Remus assured you as he sat you back down on the now unfriendly couch, sounding very unconvinced himself.

"Aren't you worried?" you snapped automatically. "Sorry," you reconciled at his hurt expression, "I didn't mean it like that. But aren't you- why aren't you all scared out of your minds?"

"We are," Peter said softly.

"Just... maybe not as much as you."

"Right," you breathed. You felt slightly more steady now.

Lily came down the stairs with small, slow steps. She looked like her heart had beat more times than was fitting for any living occasion.

"Hey. James thought I should check on you. His mum's doing a really good job, by the way. I think Sirius will have his stupid grinning face back soon enough."

You smiled a little, but your heart still raced. Lily gave the other two boys a look which sent them out of the room very quickly. She sat down beside you, laying an arm around your slouched back.

"You're really freaked out, huh?"

You hummed quietly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek as if she wouldn't notice. "I just- seeing him like that, still standing, straight from the Floo Network to who knows where- Lily, why on earth didn't he just come to this fireplace? Why did he- Why did he-"

"Sis', calm down. He's fine. Sort of. He probably wasn't thinking that clearly and just said the street name or something."

"Who the fuck remembers a street but not the name of one of your best friend's?" Lily laughed; yours came out watery.

"Come on, we're talking Sirius here. He'll survive anything. Honestly, a good kick might do him some good after all the shit he pulls. Admittedly, I would have preferred to hand it to him, but..."

You couldn't find it in you to be mad at your sister at that moment, so instead you just sniffed aggressively until she handed you a tissue.

"I just... oh God, Lily, what if something really did happen to him? What if I couldn't get him back? I just..." You trailed off. Your eyes widened.

"What is it?" Lily asked timidly, as if scared of chasing off a wild deer.

"I- Oh Merlyn, I think I like him," you sighed, sounding almost disappointed.

"Well, I'd hope so, he's your best friend."

"No, Lily, I like him. Merlyn, I love him! He's perfect. Oh, no... oh, for fuck's sake..." you began muttering. If anyone knew about his copious affairs, it was you, and all his flirting was probably habit. You liked him. You loved him. That was real. That was dangerous.

"Seriously? Jim?" Lily deadpanned, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "Couldn't it be anyone else?"

"Oh, shut it, you've given up to the arrogant charm of Potter." You hesitated a moment, then: "I'm gonna tell him. When he wakes up. Then, at least, if he dies from shock, I can blame it on his parents."

•••

A few hours later Mrs. Potter entered the living room with an expression that reminded you uncontrollably of the time she sat you and the Marauders down at 13 for the talk - it resulted in little more than raucous giggles and jokes about storks. It might have been more successful and terror-inducing had you not discovered a spicy story in a Playboy magazine and read it together some weeks ago.

"Alright, I have some news," she announced herself solemnly before breaking into a wild smile that made you all wonder if she had gone mad with witnessing death or something. "Sirius will be moving in with us as of now. James, I know this might be hard for you to adjust to, but-"

"Hardly," he interrupted, grinning. "I get to have him over all the time?"

"Mrs. Potter, you will never know peace again," Remus warned morbidly. You laughed at that, shoving away any thoughts on what exactly he was escaping from.

"Anyway, he's been asking for you all. But make it quick - he needs his sleep."

She didn't have to say it twice. All four of you were lunging up the stairs in an instant, barging into his room so quickly, he looked up from under his covers startled.

"You're alive!" Peter cried, almost jumping on him to give him a hug, but Sirius managed to keep him at a safe distance as he received it.

"Thank Merlyn... we were really worried," Remus added.

"Can I say something extremely cheesy and heartfelt?" Sirius looked at you all expectantly. You sat down on the edge of his bed: "If ever there was an acceptable time, it's probably now."

"Right," he grinned. "Well, I just wanted to say that you're all such great friends and I'm really lucky to have you. Not many people could run away from home and have a new one organised within the hour."

"It's been four hours; sure I shouldn't call mum back?" Sirius slapped him weakly on the arm. "No, but seriously, it sounds like brain damage."

"What James is trying to say," Remus butted in, "is that he's thrilled to have you living with him."

"Yeah, that too," James conceded. "You have no idea how worried (y/n) was about you. She went all berserk. The rest of us were totally cool."

"You were not!" you defended, glaring at him as Sirius gently took your hand.

"Why so worried?"

"I don't know, hon'. I guess I just really like you. Maybe more than I thought I did. And I can't lose you. Ever." When he didn't react, you added: "This is me, confessing."

"Yeah, I figured," he answered. The room went awkwardly quiet. "I'm glad you feel the same."

"Wait, what?" You stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

"Well, I love you a lot also. More than I should, I mean. And you won't lose me unless you get fed up with me yourself." He smirked that perfect smirk. You were taken by the sudden urge to kiss it off his smug face.

The urge succeeded, apparently, because before you knew it you were leaning down, kissing those lips that you had always watched kiss others and longed for half-subconsciously since you stole each other's first kisses as trusted friends. There they were. They worked. They worked well, indeed.

"Oh, fuck off," James interrupted, making you pull away. You didn't even have it in you to be annoyed. Sirius was staring at you, eyes wide, lips parted, pretty even through the stitched over his cheek and the blackening eye pushing his lids together.

You flipped James off as you helped Sirius up, leading him down the stairs with the others in tow to sit at the kitchen table and help Mrs. Potter until she was ready.

Throughout dinner, your hands were clasped beneath the table surface. This was not the night to discuss what had happened. This was a night to remember.

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #harry potter #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius x reader #sirius x you #marauders #marauders fanfiction #lily evans #remus lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #angst with a happy ending #angst

[plscallmeeren]

Citizens of Westview

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Request: yes I'm sorry this took me so long but I am now nearing the end of my exam period 🥲

Summary: Wanda is on her way to WandaVision as she arrives in Westview, but before she can freak out on us, she meets someone

Someone = you = retired warrior with telepathy + telekineses

Warnings: sad Wanda; not proofread rip

Word Count: 1.4K

Wanda Maximoff was fuming and upset and destroyed and violently inclined and numb from the pain. Everything hurt. Everything was changing. He was never coming back. No, she was never coming back. Could never be the same as she once was.

When was that again? It felt like a long ago, but was it? Maybe for everyone else, whose five years dragged with the absence of company, but for her... for her it hadn't been long since the peak of her life. It hadn't lasted long, really. From one horror to the next, life had never stopped giving Wanda Maximoff a hard time.

Surely this was the worst of them all.

She stood motionless for a moment in a driveway, staring at the worn foundations of a town house. Vision's house. Vision's vision, ironically.

Slow steps led her to its centre, hand clutching at his plans like a lifeline.

Wanda wondered whether she ever would have lived him. He wasn't what she imagined - ever. He was only there when she needed someone most. Did she have the right to mourn someone she may have used for her own emotional balance? No, she thought.

A strange feeling invaded her senses as she considered her own mind. She knew it. Except she usually felt it from the other side.

Someone was in her head, snooping.

How dare they?

She realised only now that she had fallen to her knees on the harsh ground, tears running down her cheeks uncontrollably. It hurt. It all hurt, and she didn't even know what was causing her all this pain. When she tried to recount everything to herself, it felt like encouraging the water drowning her back over her head in order to make her lungs not only gasp for air and find currents, but also for them to be crushed under all the weight of an ocean.

Everything hurts.

Which is why no one should have been invading on all of that.

With some struggle, she turned, standing, grasping the sacred paper in her one hand while the other cocooned itself in crimson magic.

Before her stood a young-looking man, though certainly older than her, hands pushed into his pockets timidly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't read your thoughts, I just... I just felt."

Wanda's mind spun at the sound of your voice. Deep, as if the ocean was now enveloping her protectively. Slightly raspy, as if you had smoked one year too many. Melodic, as if she had missed the lyrics to an important song.

"I... How did you- You can't-"

"I don't know what made you feel the way you feel right now, but it must be truly horrible. That pain..." You shuddered, approaching her with a little more confidence, but keeping a safe distance.

Wanda was lost for words.

"Why here of all places?"

She hesitated, then decided: "My boyfriend plans on building a house here. I wanted to see it. Or, well, what it would be."

You nodded contemplatively. "So there's a boyfriend, huh?" you teased, stopping when you were only a meter away from her. She felt volatile. She couldn't bear it if you tried to touch her. But for a moment, she was distracted.

"No," she found herself saying instinctively, though this hadn't been the plan, "no boyfriend anymore."

"Sorry to hear it. Or at least, sorry for you." You smiled a little. It was all risky when someone was this emotional - or so spoke experience. One wrong word or wrong daring and it was all over, but in the end, treating someone like a snowflake was the most likely to backfire.

She stared at you incredulously, gaping at the simple flirting. She observed her contender closer: a tall, toned man with short black hair and a bandana. She could have screamed and kicked when her subconscious reminded her this was more like her type.

You watched her, too. If you hadn't been so distracted by her dishevelled look, you might have called her flawlessly beautiful.

"What's the house gonna look like?" you asked as pleasantly as possible, sitting down in the wiry grass with crossed legs.

"I, uh..." Wanda pulled out the plans, handing them over. You took them graciously, taking a moment to look properly before smiling widely.

"This is really nice. Good town house feel. Kinda looks like one of those old sit-coms, you know?"

She couldn't help but stare further. The coiling witchcraft encompassing her arm slowly dissipated as she collapsed on the ground opposite you.

"Yes," she said finally, leaning forward tiredly. "I always liked sit-coms. Especially the Dick Van Dyke Show. I watched it when I was little, and recently... well, I was just getting into it again."

"I don't know that one," you confessed. "But I always liked Bewitched and The Brady Brunch. Sometimes I Dreamed of Jeannie, when I was feeling particularly whimsical." You chuckled and a watery laugh escaped her in response.

"I know Bewitched and The Brady Brunch. They're both good. I loved the dresses in Bewitched, you know? It was always so classy. What's the other one?"

"Oh, it's about this guy who unleashes a beautiful woman called Jeannie and she's bound to him. She can fulfil all of his wishes, but her attempts at doing him good often go a bit awry... it's very funny."

"I can imagine."

She could believe she was smiling. Honestly smiling. Practically grinning.

"If I may ask; where are you from? That's an interesting accent you got there." You saw the complicated expression on her face and quickly rectified: "I'm sure people ask you all the time - I shouldn't be so unoriginal."

"No, no, it's fine. People don't ask as often as I'd sometimes like." Her eyes glazed over in distant imagery and you wondered where she had travelled to. "I'm from Sokovia."

Your brain sent you immediate news footage of the disaster in Sokovia and the Avengers and-

Wanda Maximoff.

But you didn't comment on any of this, because really, what good would it do?

"I've heard of it." Her shoulders sagged. She could see the pitiful questions coming her way already. "It's somewhere between Slovakia and the Czech Republic, no?"

Her eyes widened. For another moment, she was distracted.

"Yeah. That's it. It's beautiful, you know. Terrible government, but beautiful."

"Just like the U.S., then?" you smirked, earning an Eastern European smile of superiority in return.

"Mhm. We had this tradition in the winter where we would..."

You listened intently, hanging onto every word as if you were going to be tested in the material.

You didn't generally like people too much. You didn't hate them, either. You had just seen too much. Too many thoughts, emotions, memories, fears - too much humanity for one receiver.

But another person who had seen all that? Had felt and heard the facets of a thousand lives? That was interesting. You were very interested. Maybe you would have been even if that hadn't been the case.

Darkness crawled over the clouded planes of this Western sky, draping its silky blanket dotted with shining light and an iridescent crescent over the town of Westview. The two of you hardly noticed, delved deep in conversation, until making out the other's face proved a challenge.

"I should be going," Wanda gave in to nature's lullaby eventually. "I'm not sure where to go, though."

You considered her for a moment, then offered: "You're welcome to stay at my place for a while. If not, I know an inn downtown that's probably still open?"

She gazed at you in a way that the naïve mind could interpret as loving, then slowly nodded.

"Yes, I'd like to stay with you. I trust you, stranger, even if it is not in my best interest." Her accent was thick with drowsiness.

"Good. Can I ask - just to be sure - what's your name?"

"Wanda. You knew?"

"I had a hunch. My name's (y/n)."

"Do you have a superhero name or something, too?" she laughed warmly, but she could still taste the salt of tears on her tongue.

"No, I never cared much for superheroes."

_____________

Pt 2?

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #marvel #mcu fanfiction #romance #wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda marvel #wandavision #marvel women #male reader #emotions #mortal kombat #wanda fanfic #wanda x y/n

[plscallmeeren]

H A T E S E X

Hermione J. Granger x Male Reader

Request: nope and it worries me

Summary: Hermione kisses Ron (and cheats on you) to make you jealous and she has it coming... this is filthy shit it's kinda a drabble I originally wrote for kinktober on here so that explains it ig

Warnings: swearing; top!reader; bottom!Hermione; fingering (her receiving); degradation; vip; mentions of cheating; unprotected sex; tiny bit of bondage; yelling, fighting

Word Count: 1.2K+

Prompts used: Hate / Angry Sex | Degradation

"It's not my fault you're so fucking proud!"

"What, so you just thought 'hey! Why not kiss another guy right in front of me'? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"No, what's wrong with you! Since I became a hero after the war, everyone is pining over me. Everyone! You hear me?"

"Oh, you're so arrogant," you scoffed, shaking your head.

"Well, maybe I am! But I chose you. You out of everyone else I could've had. So why won't you even have sex with me? It's been over a month!"

"Are you seriously trying to guilt-trip me right now?"

She didn't answer. You stood across from each other, panting slightly, glaring, the door to your shared dorm room locked and sound-proofed so that no one would overhear your heated debate.

"Fine. I'm not good enough for you, obviously. So... I guess you'll have to grace someone else with your presence. Maybe even Ronald Weasley." The oncoming silence was deadly calm, and you heard her every breath, maybe even her heartbeat.

You headed to the door - heavy steps - falling like boulders just to make sure she realised how badly she had fucked up.

And she knew it. You could see it in her every weary glance towards your heading, every nervous twitch, every licking of her moist lips.

Presently, she jumped ahead of you, looking up with defiance in her eyes.

"Get out of my way," you growled, but not making any gesture to use force.

"No."

"Hermione." She shivered at the low rasp of her name - cold and dangerous.

"Make me."

You crashed your lips down to hers at the common phrase, gripping the sides of her face to hold her steady as she was pressed against the door.

You eventually let go of her, saw her yearn for more, realise you had led her away from your exit plan. Just as you were about to open it and quickly escape, she grabbed ahold of your tie, which spun around, tightening around your neck.

"What, you're gonna choke me now? Hide the evidence that someone dumped you?"

"Maybe. If you're not careful."

You slowly turned around, gaze like fire on Hermione's pale skin. She trembled but hardly noticed.

In one swift movement the tie was pulled over your head and you had an iron grip on her wrists, pressing her front into your own as you tied them with said tie. She gazed up at you with a strange sort of admiration.

"I'm leaving. I'm gonna talk to McGonnagle. I won't be coming back."

She cried out a pathetic 'no, please don't', and for some reason that had you dead in your tracks at the open door.

"Why shouldn't I, darling?"

"Because I love you."

"No, you don't."

"I do. Please. Just... one more time to convince you? Maybe you've forgotten how good I am...?"

You turned again, and noticed with a pang of despair that you had turned too often already. Yet it was dull and buried near the back of your mind and you couldn't find it in you to care.

"Yeah? You always wanted me to be rougher, right?" You approached her, looking down at her as you shoved her harshly down onto the bed. Her lips parted and her eyes were dark. You scoffed. "Well, slut... that won't be a problem no more."

She whimpered delightfully and next thing you knew you were on top of her, ravaging her with your lips in a frenzied manner you never had before. Her back arched as she writhed at your open-mouthed antics, panting heavily as you ripped off one article of clothing and another, holding no regard for the clothes you might have damaged.

You spread her legs roughly once you had rid her of tights and skirt and panties, wasting no time on romantics. She squirmed even more when you pushed four fingers into her cunt - no time to retaliate, no time to adjust - more fingers than ever before.

She whined pathetically, moan after moan slurring from her pretty little mouth pornographically at the painful pleasure you were dealing her pussy while you bit and sucked at her tits in a primitive fashion. Your thumb rubbed over her clit in quick circles as your other hand groped her left breast with little regard for the pressure it was practicing.

You came up for air, placing your knees on her thighs so she would stop writhing to a point where it was hard for your digits to pound into her. "Is this what you wanted, bitch? This what your little cunt was so needy for that it went and fucked Weasley? Well, this is what you get for letting another guy fuck you. You'll never get these fingers again, so cherish them."

Hermione was practically screaming, a never-ending wail of ecstasy pooling at her lips while her eyes watered, only interrupted by the occasional 'please, daddy' or 'it's all for you, baby'.

Her hair was tangled, mascara smudged from the odd tear, lips wide open, back arched, legs shaking, inner thighs slick with her own pre-cum.

"I'm gonna cum inside you, sweetheart," you purred, leaning down to her ear, "and I'm not gonna let you get pregnant, because you don't deserve my baby."

She whined loudly, clenching her walks around your fingers. You loved the difference between you and her. Hermione, entirely naked, vulnerable, powerless, while you still stood fully clothed and relatively well-kept apart from the missing tie and dripping fingers currently stretching the inside of a woman's cunt.

With one final guttural moan, she came around you just as you pulled out your dick and replaced your fingers with it, stretching her even wider at her climax. You fulfilled your promise, not leaving her pussy as you both panted heavily.

"Will you please stay? That was amazing," she whispered, almost out of breath.

"You don't deserve it. I'll be here in an hour or two with the potion equivalent of the morning-after pill and maybe, if you're lucky, I'll fuck you again. But that won't mean you deserve a second of it, love."

You finally pulled out of her, sticking your fingers into her mouth for a second to let her lick you clean before pulling up the zip of your pants and walking out the door.

She struggled against the tie still bound around her wrists. You had never left her after sex without looking after her extensively. You certainly would never have left her in this uncomfortable position for an unknown amount of time.

But Hermione found she didn't particularly mind waiting an hour or so here to see if you would return and make her cum again.

No, not at all.

#fanfic #fanfiction #new chapter #romance #harry potter #hermione granger #hermione x reader #male reader #smut #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #degradative #angry smut #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

[plscallmeeren]

D O N ‘ T M I N D T H A T P T 2

Darcy Lewis x Reader

Request: yes from the wonderful @Dragonsw Who is basically my sponsor at this point

Summary: you just can't catch a break without getting caught... the amount of this chapter that is actual smut isn't much 🥲 (male reader)

Warnings: Swearing; kinda/nearly getting caught in the act; oral (f receiving); fingering; edging; daddy kink; slight sexual power dynamic; unedited

Word Count: 2.1K+

You jumped up from Darcy as you heard the door swing open, revealing none other than Natasha.

"What are you two up to? Getting it on the floor this time? Didn't think to lock the door?"

"We were only training," you countered, although you realised as you pulled on your t-shirt and threw Darcy her things that that wasn't very believable.

"M'sure. I wanna train now. Move," she ordered, walking past the lifted ring to reach the stepper.

"You know, theoretically, if we were doing what you thought we were," Darcy started, "the general curtousy would be to leave us."

It was unusual for her to be so outspoken in front of the other Avengers because she felt a little out of place, but you were thrilled to find she was settling in more and more.

"The naked woman speaks," Natasha taunted in return and Darcy blushed scarlet.

"C'mon, we've trained enough for today," you negotiated, ever the diplomat.

She slipped into her clothes again quickly and you couldn't help but press a kiss to her shoulder blade, but then you were out and smirking as you escaped her.

You liked to play, and she knew it.

•••

You smiled involuntarily when you felt the familiar weight of someone on your legs, but you didn't put down the book you were reading and promptly ignored her as she dragged herself closer and closer to your height.

"(Y/n)... please... I'm so wet, still..."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm just resting up from that heavy training we did."

You couldn't help but run your fingers through her hair as she sighed contentedly against your skin.

"Baby, I can't take it..."

"I'm sure you'll be fine." You sat up, pushing your face past hers and whispered: "And the orgasm will be even better."

Standing, you then retreated to the living room where Natasha and Clint were watching Corpse Bride.

Darcy sat on your bed for a while longer, stunned, rubbing her legs together hopelessly when she finally accepted you had left.

•••

Halfway through the movie Clint fell asleep, even though it was still the afternoon, and Natasha nudged your shin with her foot.

"So, you playing the teasing game?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because she's standing there glaring daggers at you."

Your head spun around painfully fast and you fought to hide your surprise when you saw Darcy pretending to make a sandwich.

Well, not so much pretending as failing; missing the cheese on the bread. Slicing once diagonally through the tomato instead of straight, and so on.

"So... you want some help?"

You contemplated for a moment. Darcy wasn't a jealous person, and you had even discussed your shared appreciation for tease and connected exhibitionism.

"Yeah. Sure."

She smirked. It was obvious Natasha had something planned, and she was undoubtedly good at persuasion in that sense, though you only really had eyes for your girlfriend.

She stood, walking towards the kitchen and purposefully dropping a knife she picked up. She leaned down slowly, displaying a perfect view for me from the couch. Darcy's left eyebrow twitched.

"Oh, I see what you're doing," she claimed outright, narrowing her eyes in displeasure. "A cunning game. I can play it, too."

Darcy approached Natasha as she stood up and took her hand in both of her own, slowly, sensuously licking up them, taking the well manicured index and middle digit down her throat.

Natasha grinned. She seemed awfully pleased to be caught up in the matter.

"That's enough," you said firmly, taking long strides toward the two and sending a harsh look towards Natasha, who slipped her fingers out of your girlfriend's mouth and held up her hands in mock surrender, swinging her hips exaggeratedly as she left the two of you alone.

You pressed your tongue into the side of your cheek, not taking your eyes off the brunette before you. She made a small noise and you could still see her trembling legs.

"You so wet for me that you just couldn't behave? Is that your excuse?" you growled, an unspoken threat on your mind.

"Y-Yeah. I'm so wet for you. So sweet."

You couldn't hold back, anymore. You pushed her against the counter, pulling her lips onto your own and biting her lower lip possessively. She whimpered, panting slightly when you pulled away and kissed at her jaw instead.

"Oh, fuck-"

You slipped a hands between her thighs as you continued to kiss her neck, sucking marks onto her skin she would proudly wear.

You palmed her core harshly, strong, curved movements that had her squirming and gripping onto the counter surface with all her might to steady herself.

"I can feel you through your pants, darling," you breathed smugly, dragging her sweatpants down in the same motion. Darcy gasped and held onto the counter even more-so, if that was possible.

"Yes, please, daddy, I-"

"What time is it?" came the groggy and unsuspecting voice of Clint from the nearby couch, the both of us springing apart as Darcy pulled her pants back up.

Just as I had discovered she was wearing nothing underneath.

"It's, uh, almost four," Darcy covered up hurriedly, bouncing on her heels in hopes of escaping the situation.

"Already? Hm. (Y/n), I need your help with something up in room 774..."

You looked Darcy in the eye for a second and realised you should have taken her then and there after training, whether Natasha was watching or not.

•••

It was one entire day later and you were two cold showers into lunch. Jane had called Darcy in on some urgent business, so neither of you were happy.

You had just finished cooking lunch in preparation for her return when she strutted in through the grey door with all the confidence and longing in the world.

You could have fucked her there, perhaps. Maybe you should have. But instead you presented her with delicious food and a snarky comment about nourishment for later.

"This is so good," she groaned, eating quicker than was likely good for her. "Get yourself a man who makes you a good hot lunch, huh?"

"Why, thank you. I'll be off searching as soon as I get my bowl back."

You both laughed and eventually she had finished eating, the two of you heading to the bathroom.

Once inside, you pushed her up against the wall, tapping her thighs so that she would wrap her legs around your waist (with your support, of course).

She was wearing a relatively slim long-sleeved top with a deep cut, as well as a skirt (a rare occurrence) that hiked up naturally when you pushed your groin closer to hers.

You made out passionately for a good moment, Darcy shivering at the temperature difference between the cold tiled wall and your warm flesh.

Finally, you set her down on the counter, lowering yourself to the height of her pussy and smirking at the large dark patch in her panties. She panted heavily somewhere above you.

"Please, (y/n), please, I- I need you," she whimpered, spreading her legs even wider as she pulled her skirt up around her waist. Only her soaked panties stood in the way, now.

You ripped them clean in half and put the remains in your pocket, dragging her thighs across the counter so that her cunt was right at the edge.

One kiss to her left thigh, a groan, another to her right, she whined, one last kiss to the top of her groin, then...

With a sound like a cat lapping at water, you dove in, licking at her pussy at the speed of light. This is what you had been waiting for. This is all you wanted.

Her whines grew louder and louder until you were farting your tongue in and out of her with an occasional kiss to her clit, and suddenly they were outright moans. Your fingertips dug into the flesh of her thighs to steady your pace, her hands tangling in your hair and pulling at it, but you didn't particularly mind.

You added two fingers without warning, focusing the full attention of your tongue on her clit while your digits rammed into her cunt, her moans turning to screams.

She was the epitome of erotica: Legs spread wide around your head, clothes unceremoniously crinkled and clumped to get them out of the way, trembling, hair disheveled, mascara smudged, shaking more, clenching, nearing-

Footsteps hurried on the other side of the door and with no other option, you picked Darcy up and placed her moaning mess in the adjoining cubicle, quickly slapping water at your face so that no one could tell you were covered in bodily fluids.

Darcy quieted in the back, only just coming down enough to think straight as the door slammed open, revealing Tony with Bruce behind him, the former clad in his entire suit with a gun lifted.

"Woah, man." Your eyes widened. Why on earth...?

"Oh, god. I told you, Tony, if someone is screaming in a bathroom it has a whole 'nother meaning."

"Okay, don't blame this on me. When JARVIS says there's an emergency and potential danger, you can't just ignore that. Also, no one's that loud unless they're with me."

"You're really arrogant, you know that? No one else is even here."

"Right."

They finally turned to look at you, who was standing rather perplexed and close to laughter.

"So... am I innocent, officers?" you jested, quirking an eyebrow.

Bruce left with an apologetic nod but Tony wasn't quite finished with you, yet.

"You're very loud, y'know. And just for your information, you sound like a girl when you're jerking off, I'm just saying, no harm in that- I mean, personally, I like a girl making noise but-"

Just when you were about to intervene and tell him that's not what you were doing, his eyes remained glued on your hip. Confused, you looked down, only to see the lacy underwear you had stuffed into your pocket.

"I can explain-"

"There are three options here," he started, ignoring you, "either you're into wearing that sorta thing - no judgement, of course, although it must bruise your ego that those fit - but I don't see the point in putting it in your pocket if that's the case. Scene two; your girlfriend's currently unavailable and you're filling the void inside you yourself so that you don't need another woman, but with the help of her underwear. Now, this explanation would suffice, but-"

He glanced down at the locked door to the adjoining cubicle and the feet peeking out under the door. "Given the evidence, I'd say you're not alone at all."

You couldn't help but grin. Tony was one of your closest friends and he sure knew how to draw out a moment long enough to make it hilarious.

"Have fun, kids. Don't forget to use the protection and," he turned, dramatically leaving his last line until he was halfway out the door, "do us the favour and lock the door. Unless you're into that sort of thing, I suppose."

He walked out and you quickly shut (and locked!) the door behind him. Darcy crept out to meet you.

You both burst out laughing.

The hot atmosphere from before evaporated, but that didn't mean you weren't both still in the mood.

You embraced each other slowly, again kissing, but this time slower, her hands clasped behind your neck while your arms wrapped around her waist.

Your girlfriend still standing, you fell to your knees, starting right where you left off with a grin.

You both laughed a lot and she came in no time.

A new kink had certainly been discovered.

And it wouldn't be the last time someone walked in on you.

It wouldn't even be the last time it was Tony.

—————

I had so much fun writing this, the Tony and Bruce scene had me internally cackling, but I don't know if you read it as funnily as I imagined 🥲

Almost three hundred people have read this shit?????? What????

Anyways

Sorry for the wait I'm back to studying so I can't write much. My humanities teacher is killing me.

Have a great day wherever you are, my darlings ❤️

#fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #mcu fanfiction #new chapter #romance #smut #darcy lewis #darcy x yn #x reader #so hot 🔥🔥🔥 #marvel smut

[plscallmeeren]

W I L L Y O U T A K E M Y C A S E ? P T 3

Jennifer Walters x Reader

Request: yep

Summary: when texting turns to sexting, you decide to break the sexy ice (double pun intended), basically no plot other than that 👍 no comment

Warnings: Swearing; oral (female receiving); fingering; all kinds of sec ig; praise kink; daddy kink; top!reader; bottom!Jen; edging; smoking

Word Count: 2K+

You and Jennifer were practically an item. No labels or anything - after all, she was still officially your lawyer, but that didn't change the fact that you saw each other almost every day and never paused your texting.

You were currently lying on your bed thinking about this wonderful fact, pretending to read a book called Transactional Analysis that you were already two chapters into but certainly hadn't gained any knowledge from.

Your phone pinged. You were very pleased to find it was a picture from Jennifer, opening your chat happily. She had told you about a conference she was attending today. What could be so interesting there that she'd send a photo.

You read the message under the photo before opening it.

I snuck out of the meeting to send you this... hope you like it ❤️

Thoroughly confused, you downloaded the image, only to have your eyes practically bulge out of your skull.

The photo consisted of Jennifer, no top, skirt pulled to her ankles, pushing her breasts (lacy bra, simple black) towards the camera with a hand in between her thighs. The text across the middle read 'thinking of you 💋'.

Realising you had stopped breathing, you did so, deeply, pushing your head back into the covers of the bed, your own hand venturing south to cup the growing tent in your pants. "Fuck."

After a moment's calm, you typed back, seeing she was still online.

You wanna do this now?

Do what, lover boy?

You really want me to fuck you today?

If you insist...

A voice-mail followed her message, but this time you were prepared.

Well, perhaps not entirely prepared, because the sound of her moaning your name had you halfway over the edge already.

Take off your panties. Pull up your skirt and put on that top. Go back to the meeting. After, come straight to my apartment. No stopping on the way.

Whatever you say, daddy 😘

You heaved a breath, repositioning your pants. She drove you wild, that was for certain.

You had thought about fucking her before, of course. How couldn't you, she was gorgeous. And something told you it might just be different to sex with any other woman (apart from how much you liked her).

You were certainly no stranger to hook-ups, and you liked pleasuring women very much, not to mention getting a good blowjob or so, but you never actually fucked anyone.

You were scared, and that's all there was to it. Scared you'd be too big, too hard, that you would accidentally go too hard.

But this was She-Hulk. This was a big woman, almost incapable of injury, and how could that go wrong?

You were ecstatic. And you would be lying if you said you didn't listen to that voice mail more than thirty times in the next few minutes.

•••

Jennifer hadn't heard half of the conference points that she should have, but it didn't matter. She could ask a coworker tomorrow.

Her thighs aches from rubbing together for the past hour and her core throbbed to no avail, tensing and un-tensing and aching all over again. Her panties lay bundled up in her handbag as she climbed the steps to your cheap apartment.

She knocked, three times, four - the door opened, and your eyes were also dark. You both noticed the involuntary shaking of her legs.

"Nice to see you, love. How did the conference go?" you asked sweetly, taking her handbag from her as if nothing were going on.

"Uh- good. Fine. Just fine."

"You weren't distracted, were you? Wouldn't want your incredible mind focusing on anything other than the most important things." She followed you into the bedroom, watching as you sat down, took her panties out of the bag and set it aside, holding her underwear as if that were nothing out of the ordinary.

"W-Well, actually... I was thinking about you a lot. About what you might do when I came," she confided, but you only grinned.

"That's what I meant, sweetheart." She shivered. "Aren't you going to undress for me?"

She couldn't help but smile shyly as you connected your phone to the speaker and put on some steamy music. Her hands found the hem of her top and with hardly any hesitation whatsoever, she pulled it over her head.

"Good girl," you praised, pretending to be otherwise unbothered.

She dragged her skirt down her legs slowly, sensuously, gaining more and more confidence. Her pussy was immediately on display for you to examine, dripping wet and running down her thighs.

"What got you so wet, baby? Don't tell me you touched yourself."

"No, daddy, it's all you," she said sweetly, dropping her skirt 'on accident', turning around and bending over to pick it up, putting her ass and cunt on full display.

"You tryna tease daddy?" you husked, a tone of caution in your voice while it was obvious you were impressed.

Impressed was an understatement. You had never been this hard.

"No, never. I just wanted to show daddy what's his," she replied, voice a little high-pitched. You licked your lips at her willingness for you to claim her.

"Take it all off, don't be shy," you added, seeing as she was still wearing her bra.

"I don't think I can manage on my own," she cooed, so you gestured for her to come to you. Her bra was ripped clean in half. She shuddered.

"C'mon, baby, stand back and turn so I can look at you properly. Arms over your head."

Jennifer obeyed, turning slowly in circles so that you could scrutinise all sides of her.

She was perfect. Curvaceous in all the right places, love handles, hot neck, everything.

You both loved the power difference; you, fully clothed, in control, her, entirely vulnerable, naked, at your mercy.

"So pretty for me, my little girl. Lie down," you instructed, so she did, automatically spreading her legs in hope. "Now, I want you to be real loud for me, yeah? I wanna hear every little sound that pretty mouth of yours can make."

She whimpered, and you considered that a good start.

"I need you to use your big girl words, darling."

"Yes, daddy, I'll be loud."

"Good girl." You positioned yourself between her legs and placed a hand on each of her tits, massaging them placidly as she started panting.

You pressed a soft kiss to her left inner thigh, then her right, then one at the top of her crotch. She groaned in arousal.

Fingers rolled her nipples between their tips, a large hand closed around her wrists, mouth came up to meet her right breast and suck on it, swirling tongue around her nipple.

"Fuck- Mark me, please," she whined, a childish sound you weren't used to but were sure to grow to love.

Your teeth bit down on her tit, sucking and holding to form multiple purple-ish marks around her neck and breasts.

"You ready, little girl?" Your lips hovered over her pussy.

"Y-Yes, please, please, I need you-" Her begging was cut short when your mouth attached to her clit, sucking there instead as Jennifer's back arched.

An animalistic moan escaped her as she writhed under your touch, her nails bearing down on your back painfully, but you didn't mind. She could scar you for all you cared.

Withdrawing your hands from her tits, you pushed her legs apart further, guiding her legs over your shoulders as she spasmed.

"Oh- Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck- I'm clo- I'm- I'm-"

She couldn't string the sentence together. She had never been pleasured like this in her whole life, and you were only going to let it get better. Short, high-pitched moans matched your every thrust. The sound was pornographically angelic.

"Don't cum. You won't like what happens if you do," you threatened, determined to make her squirt.

She writhed more, moaning unspeakably loud - loud enough for the neighbours to hear at ease - when you pushed three fingers into her soaking cunt.

"P-Please, daddy, I can't- I can't- it's too much-"

"Look how good I'm fucking you, pretty girl," you interrupted your mouth's assault on her clit. "Look how I'm destroying your cunt. If you cum now, this won't be happening again any time soon. Look!"

She forced her eyes down to where you lay between her legs, her juices running over her tummy. You added a fourth finger when you saw the tears in her eyes, had them grow perfectly cold against her warm insides, but she wouldn't risk your threat if she could at all help it.

She wanted to croak out more begging, but was sure if she opened her mouth your entire face would be full of her.

You pulled away at her desperation, slowly withdrawing your four slick fingers and sucking on them as she looked at you.

"You did good, little girl. On your knees for me, now. Soon you can cum."

You helped her a little in getting on her knees as she trembled, positioning yourself behind her.

"You sure about this, honey?"

"Hold my hand?" she whimpered in response, and you gladly leaned over her to entwine your fingers.

"Now?"

"Yes, please, daddy."

You undid your belt, pulling your pants down just enough for your dick to spring out, which wasn't far.

You lined up at her entrance, biting back all the fears of hurting her, and slid slowly inside.

"Ow- fuck, you're big," she moaned.

"Is it too much?"

"N-No. No, it could never be. How do you fuck normal-sized people with that thing?"

"I don't, love," you confessed, and she noted even in a time like this how much this meant to you.

"Then fuck me like you've never fucked anybody before. I'll love it, don't worry."

She groaned again as you pushed yourself in to the hilt, slowly wondering if she could strangle you this way from being so tight.

"I need you, (y/n)!"

That was all you needed to hear.

You pounded into her with inhuman strength, relishing her occasional screams of pleasure as she bunched the sheets with her fists. You would be receiving a noise complaint in the morning. You couldn't care less.

"F-Fuck, (y/n)! Don't stop! Fu-"

She moaned loudly between the whining and screaming, a heavenly sound. She held onto your hand even tighter.

Something cracked.

A creak.

The bed collapsed beneath the two of you.

She shrieked.

You let out a primitive groan.

She squirted like she never had in her entire life.

You pulled out of her quickly, only then realising you had completely forgotten to use a condom.

Half your bed was full of white liquid.

You turned to examine the damage, laughing at the cliché of actually managing to break a bed.

"Oh, my god! I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, you quickly attempting to console her.

"It's just a bed, it's no problem, I'm not short on money-"

"No- I- Oh, I'm so sorry- Your back, (y/n)!"

You only just realised the teeming pain on the skin of your back where she had scratched you.

"Oh. Hey, that's okay, I don't mind a mark. Are you okay?"

"Am I okay? Did you see what I just did? I squirted. I don't do that."

You laughed and stood, picking her up with one arm behind her back and another under her knees. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"Fuck... you know, I'm so glad I took your case a month ago."

"Yeah. Me, too."

#fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #mcu fanfiction #new chapter #jennifer walters #jennifers body #smut #romance #Jennifer smut

[plscallmeeren]

W I L L Y O U T A K E M Y C A S E ?

Jennifer Walters x Reader

Request: yesss

Summary: you and Jen finally get around to that coffee date and more :)

Warnings: Swearing; alcohol and cannabis consumption; criminally hot Jen

Word Count: 2

You had never been so nervous nor excited for a date.

But it was a date, right? What if she sabotaged your court case if it went badly? What if she was disappointed? What if you read her wrong and all she originally wanted was to talk about your case?

But she had blushed and she was no saboteur. She had already e-mailed you on the case and said all she needed to. No, it would be fine. It was with a secondhand kind of defiance you decided you needed to take on that same bold edge you automatically had with other women.

"Can I get you something to drink, young man?" an elderly waiter wheezed, looking thoroughly displeased when you politely told him you were still waiting for someone.

You thought about the Lin Kuei, in a reminiscent way that did bubble up to bother you at least once a day.

What might they think of you here, anxious over a woman they would probably no sooner consider kind than a threat to human society.

You were so lost in thought you didn't notice the door swing open to reveal Jennifer.

She smiled in your direction, presently realising that you didn't know she was there. She noted how you looked so cool and uninterested in everything around you. Something she hadn't seen in you at her office.

You finally glanced at her and immediately lit up with a grand smile.

"I'm glad to see you, Miss Walters."

She sat down happily, seeing again and in a stronger light today that wondrous body, that beautiful smile, those skilled fingers trilling on the surface of the table.

"It's nice to see you too, Mr (y/L/n)," she teased.

You took a moment to let your eyes wander across her attire; the similar white shirt and black pants as she had been wearing last, only with the top buttons undone in a sort of casual flexibility.

"So, am I right to assume the time had come to cover the usual?"

The elderly waiter scurried over immediately, purposefully ignoring the appearance of Jennifer, willing to bring you both your coffee and tea, no matter the skin colour.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Where are you from, Miss Walters?"

•••

"You did what? Oh, that's brutal," you laughed incredulously, Jennifer snickering at her childhood story.

"Well, David shouldn't have called me Susan. He knew I didn't like it, I swear. I had no choice but to unleash all the power of the chicken on him."

"Damn, I'm glad I'm not your cousin. Is this a bad time to tell you I'm afraid of millipedes? If I ever do something to hurt you, will you drop a bucket of them over my head?"

"Millipedes? What on earth's so scary about millipedes?" she laughed, and you decided them and there you were prepared to admit to a thousand fears to hear her laugh 1001 times.

"Well- I dunno, they kinda just crawl all over you, y'know? When I was little we had a basement and in the winter the whole floor was full of them and if you stood there long enough they'd start crawling up your legs." You shuddered. Another things the Lin Kuei would never understand.

"Okay, that does sound pretty uncomfortable," she conceded, a quick, involuntary glance at her watch when she saw the waiter glare at them.

Apparently, he wasn't used to loud customers spending more than two hours at his workplace without spending more than ten dollars.

"Looks like moustache is getting impatient, huh?" you whispered, winking at her before standing up and pressing a ten dollar bill into the man's palm coolly.

It seemed those two dollars and 30 cents extra were enough to buy you an extra warm goodbye, with many good tidings and an enthusiastic 'can't wait for your next visit'.

"You didn't have to pay, y'know," Jennifer said on the way out, the glass door falling into place with a clank behind you.

"That's fine. You can pay next time if you want." She couldn't help but smile at the implication of a next time.

"So... I'm heading to a house party with a friend soon, but if you want you can tag along?"

You didn't really expect her to accept. Your date had ended, she probably wanted to go home and recuperate, or head back to work, depending on how her hours worked...

You realised then how much you still wanted to talk to her about.

What you hadn't calculated into your estimation was that Jennifer, while possibly rather nervous or an over-thinker - was also a merciless extrovert.

"Yeah, sure, if you really don't mind?"

"Certainly not, love," you covered up quickly, and so you comfortable made your way to a rather different part of Los Angelos.

Your friend Wren lived in a rather rundown place in the north of L.A. Her apartment basically consisted of a kitchen, a dingy bathroom with a broken light and a poorly concealed bed.

You opened her door with you own set of keys, the first event of the evening Jennifer didn't comment on.

"Wren! You home?"

"Yeah, just putting on my make-up. Come on in," she shouted back from her giant bed.

"I brought a visitor." You glanced at the clock in the kitchen which read half past six.

"Really? You telling me you had human contact with someone apart from me?" Mockery ebbed into her tone with defiance.

"Jennifer. I told you, remember?"

The second event she didn't ask about.

"Oh... right. Wait a sec." There was some shuffling from behind the paper flip-wall and she popped out, one eye with eyeliner and mascara and one without. "Hi! It's nice to meet you."

"Uh- Nice to meet you, too." Some part of Jennifer had denied the female voice and somehow stuck to the assumption that your friend was a man.

Wren was very far from a man. She thrived on being feminine and her body had definitely graced her with a figure to support that sentiment.

You pulled her into a quick hug. Not the kind of quickness that derived from lack of comfort, but the kind which you only did out of habit because you saw each other every day, anyway.

She gulped. You wouldn't have asked her on a date if she had anything to worry about. You wouldn't have asked her if she wanted to come if you weren't interested after all.

Or would you? Did the date not go well? Were you just being polite?

"Zip this up for me, would you?" Wren asked, turning around from one skin-bearing side of her dress to another. Not much was left to imagination.

You zipped up the back of her black dress harshly, leaning over to whisper in her ear: "Cut it out. I don't need you making her jealous, the date went well."

She pulled away, offered Jennifer something to eat and while she walked to the fridge, her answer was breathed right back at you: "If you're not at home fucking, the date didn't go well enough."

You sighed. Wren generally focused on the physical part of relationships, and admittedly, usually you did, too. But this was a different situation.

Jennifer wasn't just hot - she was, no doubt about it - she was also kind and smart and open and...

Oh, no.

"So, Jen... I wasn't counting on you coming, but I have a dress here that you can wear."

"Oh. Wow, that's really nice of you," Jennifer answered kindly, ignoring the nickname.

"Here," Wren announced, pulling out one of the most revealing dresses You had ever seen in your life. Red with a slight shimmer, high cuts on the sides, deep v-neck, a diamond cut out above the abdomen, and on her it would be… well, her.

"You're fine to go in what you're wearing now, too," you said quickly, but again you had underestimated her confidence.

"No, that looks nice. Thanks again."

She took the dress under her arm with a wink and sauntered to the bed. Your eyes widened and you couldn't help but follow the swing of her hips.

"Okay, first of all, she's hot, like, truly sexy," Wren started, and I let my face fall to my palms. "Second; totally into you. She was glaring daggers at me before."

"Yes, thank you for that," you whispered sarcastically.

"You're welcome." A cunning smile, indeed.

What that dress on Jennifer did to you could not be described. The curve of her ass and bosom that you swore to yourself you only noticed in peripheral vision and the hugging fabric, slights rills for texture, her hair out and shining.

You looked away quickly as to not let your body betray you, and this was the third event Jennifer didn't question even though she wanted to.

•••

You were quick to realise that this was not Jennifer's scene and that she was subsequently doing an impressive job of blending in.

The night club hadn't been busy; it was only 7:30 when you arrived - far too early for the crowd, but you were going to meet some friends and had hoped to talk before two bodies couldn't help but press together in the open space.

It was eleven o'clock now - you had long given up on talking and had waded into the crowd to dance, or at least move somewhat to the beat.

And even though she was only moving to the beat, Jen looked incredible. She always did, but this was a little new.

She had transformed back to human form because she didn't want to be introduced or recognised as a hulk and she wanted to fit into the dress.

You couldn't believe how much you loved both of her forms. How could she always be so gorgeous?

"Hot in here, isn't it?" she asked, having managed to reach the other end of the open.

You opened your mouth once or twice before answering, still half embarrassed by your thoughts, then mumbled a 'yeah, I guess so'.

"Can we go outside for a moment?"

"Sure."

Once you were situated in the backyard of The Black Cat, you pulled out a cigarette, lighting it quickly, only now considering whether that might put her off.

Deeming it too late, you took another drag and held it between two fingers as you sat down. "What's up, love?"

"Something's off about you," she stated bluntly, and you accidentally took the smoke up your nose.

"Sorry?"

"Oh- Okay, that sounded wrong. What I mean is- Look, I have had more contact with the supernatural in the past year than ever before, so my believing has been tried and tested. You," she pointed her index finger in your vague direction as if she had to specify who she meant, "did not seem bothered by that scorching hot coffee until I asked you about it. You aren't hot in the club. You don't sweat. Your fingers were blue the other day at the office - I promise, it wasn't nearly that cold."

You gulped. It was a bad habit of yours - letting your fingers go cold when you were anxious to distract you. How could you make an excuse to explain this? Would she believe it? Could you make yourself tell her all that simply wasn't true?

Weren't you finally tired of hiding that part of you?

"Uh- Okay. You promise you won't freak out?" you asked unsurely, and she quickly nodded. "Well- Have you ever heard of Sub-Zero? That, um... That might or might not be me, depending on whether or not you're one of the people who think he's a vigilante."

You could clearly see the shock on her face and your heart sunk. No one knew that other than people involved and Wren. You hadn't trusted anyone else. You had only known this woman for two days. Why had you told her?

"I'm not. If there's one thing I've learned other than to expect everything... it's that you don't know anything if you don't have a motive."

She smiled. You beamed.

She leaned in slowly, closing her eyes, and you stomach did somersaults in the most childish way you might imagine.

Your lips met and it all fell into place. Literally and figuratively. You were born to kiss this woman. Born to put your hands on her waist and pull her into your lap while she ran her fingers through your hair. Born to think of what a beautiful mind she had while being overwhelmed by physical attraction.

You stayed like that for a while, then danced together, then went back to Wren's house in the early hours to help your friend throw up and finally parted with a goodnight kiss that lasted just six seconds too long.

She didn't question any more events that night.

—————

Sorry if it's a bit rushed toward the end but I've already written the next part and I wanted to post it... will do so upon interaction ;) that's called marketing strategies btw

Next part is a little filthy but also wholesome in the sexiest way. Hope you're ready..........

Good night

-Eren ❤️

#fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #mcu fanfiction #new chapter #jennifer walters #jennifers body #x reader #Jennifer walters x reader #male reader #she hulk #romance