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stevieschrodinger · 4 months

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Link to Part Two

Part One

Eddie stares down at the plastic doodad. It proudly declares the word ‘pregnant’ on the little screen, cheerily oblivious to the fact that it's just ruined Eddie’s whole fucking life. It’s a word as well, the actual fucking word, ‘pregnant’ shown oh so confidently on the little screen. Eddie’s done a test before, one time when he had a scare as a teenager, that had been the sort that showed one line or two.

One lines for not, two for...are. Two would have looked like prison bars, which would have been ironic given being saddled with a pup is probably pretty equivalent to 25 to life.

Anyway. Eddie shakes it. Looks again. Throws the fucking thing in the bin.

Well fuck.

Eddie contemplates, very very briefly, getting rid of it. His mind and body recoil from that thought the same way it would from, like, rotted tuna. Or someone else's puke. Or like...salad.

Eddie’s Omega’s got a lot of needs and no Alpha willing to fill them. Eddie gets by, fobbing his Omega off with with a couple of short term friends with benefits arrangements and the odd one night stand. Mostly his Omega can’t tell the difference between having an Alpha and having any Alpha, so he makes do. It scratches the itch.

Unfortunately, that means this pup could have been fathered by any one of three dudes, and Eddie doesn’t have a fucking clue which of them it would be. Eddie would really rather not it be Alpha A, Alpha B is a piece of work with a big dick, and what's behind door number three would be potentially catastrophic.

Anyway. Eddie makes a decision at two am in his apartment bathroom, and it starts with two text messages, an email, and a phone call.

“Thanks for doing this so on the spur man,” Eddie tells his landlord as he hands over the keys. Ex landlord. It was only a room in a shared place. Had to share the bathroom on this floor with two other dudes, but, meh. It had been perfect for what Eddie needed, and more importantly, within Eddie’s budget.

His whole life is sitting in the back of his van, barely filling a third of the back. Which is ideal really, made clearing out quick and easy and Eddie’s uncertain about weather or not he should be doing any heavy lifting right now.

He makes three stop offs before he leaves for good, shifting the very last of his product at discount prices. He mournfully throws in his last two boxes of cigs with the last deal; going cold turkey is going to be the opposite of fun, but Eddie’s in it to win it, and he’s going to try his best as of right now.

Wayne already has the door open when Eddie hops out of his van, beer in hand, eyebrow raised, “heya old man.”

When Wayne sees Eddie dragging bags out, he lifts the brim of his cap, puts it back again, and heads inside. Eddie sees him move a couple of things out of Eddie’s old room, and although it’s empty and the bed is stripped to nothing, it’s untouched, “how long you back for?” Wayne asks him, offering a beer.

Eddie looks at the offered bottle, dripping condensation, and very pointedly doesn’t take it “so, about that.”

There’s a long drawn out moment, and Eddie’s sees the realization dawn, “oh Ed.”

“You like kids!”

Wayne sighs, pulls Eddie into a hug, “I just hope they sleep better’n you did. Don’t think I can go through that again.”

Eddie snorts a laugh into Wayne’s shoulder, all relieved. He hadn't doubted for a second that Wayne would back his play, Wayne's always been unshakably team Eddie, but to hear it said in no uncertain terms is still a huge weight lifted.

Eddie’s got a slightest curve of a bump, small enough that it’s not nearly noticeable yet, especially with Eddie’s usual wardrobe. To go along with his bump, he’s got a scan booked at the Omega Health place, an insatiable craving for garlic mushrooms, and a job.

An actual honest job. Alright, a temp job, because he’s pregnant and no one in their right mind is going to hire a pregnant Omega for a full time permanent gig. So he is, conveniently enough, covering maternity leave for a beta girl at the record store. But that doesn’t matter right now, the moons aligned, and Eddie jumped at the opportunity. He’s going to have a secure pay check for the next seven or so months, and right this second, that’s what counts.

He can’t drink. He can’t smoke. He can’t do drugs and he’s most certainly not going to party. Eddie does the next best thing he can think of; he goes to the library. This is his reward now, his fun, his safe space; he’s going to reward himself with a good book. A good free book.

Turns out registering himself for a library card is a ten minute thing, and then he’s done, bit of plastic in hand, he wonders the shelves looking for the fantasy section. He rounds the corner into the main room only to find a dude reading and signing along to a bunch of little kids. He has the book propped up on a thing to keep his hands free and the pages open so the kids can see.

He’s encouraging them to sign along with a bunch of the words.

He has good hair...like, really good hair. There’s something familiar about the guy that Eddie can't place...until he does.

Holy fucking shit. That’s King Steve.

And he’s in a library...wearing fucking gold rimmed spectacles and a sweater vest.

And he’s hot. He’s still hot. He laughs at something and leans forward to help a toddler with the placement of her chubby little fingers and Eddie’s ovaries fucking explode.

He walks away. For self preservation he walks away. He forgets what he just saw because there was no way it was real. He’s been going through a dry spell, hasn’t got laid since he moved back to Hawkins and now he’s seeing mirages of his high school crush, that’s all.

That’s all it can be.

Until Eddie goes to the fancy scanner machine to check out his little pile of four paperback fantasy books and a deep Alpha voice is asking if he needs anything and he’s, like, right there. And he smells of library and Alpha and whatever nice thing he washes his fucking sweater vests in.

Jesus.

“No,” Eddie squeaks, “I’m okay.”

“Eddie?” Steve frowns at him, tilting his read and looking over the top of his glasses in a way that should be fucking criminal, “Eddie Munson right? I thought you moved away?”

“I have. Did. I mean, I did do that. Previously. Back now. Clearly.” Shut up shut up shut up and Steve can probably smell his embarrassment because he’s standing closely enough to clearly scent Eddie and Steve’s senses must be absolutely pinpoint because his eyes drop to Eddie’s stomach, then spring up to his neck. He frowns, like, the tiniest bit.

Eddie’s pregnant, and unmated, and Steve’s clocked that in about four seconds flat which, great. Humiliation complete.

But Steve’s face clears as quick as it had clouded, the whole thing passing so fast Eddie’s now not even sure he saw it, “so it’d been cool to catch up, you wanna wait a minute, I’m just about to have lunch?”

“Errr…I mean. I wouldn't want to impose or anything-”

“Steve!” And holy shit, if Steve is the ghost of Christmas past or some shit, the second ghost just rocked up in the form of Robin fucking Buckley of all people. Eddie doesn't even understand why they’re even friends, Steve was a topnotch jock and a total fucking dickwad, and Buckley was a band nerd.

This makes less sense than Steve’s sweater vest.

“Yeah, come on Eddie, lets go sit outside,” Eddie gets tugged along in their wake, somehow, and ends up sitting on a bench outside in the sun.

Robin had a bag of take out in her hand which she gives to Steve, and he takes out a carton of something that instantly makes Eddie’s mouth water, Eddie looks back up in time to catch Steve widening his eyes at Robin, tilting his head off to the side sharply in silent gesture for her to fuck off over there. She signs something, real quick. Steve nods.

Eddie doesn’t know a single lick of sign language, but he's pretty sure that even if he did, what happened was so fast he would have missed it anyway, “so, Eddie, great to see you, but I, shit, pretty sure I’ve left the...stove on.”

Eddie frowns at the take out and back to Robin but before he can point out what a steaming pile of bullshit that is, she’s already power walking off and shouting, “byyyyeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

“I, ah, got garlic mushrooms and broccoli and some stirfry-”

It’s too late for Eddie. He’s done. Stick a fork in him. He has no idea what’s happening here but he zones in on the garlic mushroom part of that like a heat seeking missile. A secondary part of his brain is screaming loudly that the Alpha has provided, the Alpha wants to share his food with Eddie. Alpha Alpha Alpha.

Eddie takes the container and the bamboo spork thing Steve hands him, “sorry, I never get chopsticks, no fucking clue how to use them.”

“I can show you,” Eddie says, without thinking it through or registering the implication or stopping to swallow, which means he just spoke with his mouth full of food.

“I’d like that,” Steve tells him, “when can I take you out for dinner?”

Which, Eddie’s brain does stall out there. Because. Well. Lots of things. But he was pretty certain Steve had clocked his specific circumstances earlier, but now he’s not so sure, “I’m pupped,” his mouth supplies without his permission, so he shoves a whole thing of broccoli in there to try and stop it happening again.

Steve hums, eating his beef thing very neatly, “no bite though,” he points out, and Eddie makes an agreeable noise, “maybe we can fix that,” Eddie nearly chokes.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #omega eddie because he's so pretty #mpreg #alpha steve harrington

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randomshyperson · 6 months

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

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

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

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

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And what's up there?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good evening, Y/N."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckle, shaking your head. "My father's a Christian, not me." You retort, and end up grimacing. "And how do you know-"

"This is a very exclusive program, sweetheart." Wanda cuts you off again, the cigarette between her fingers but her gaze is completely focused on your face. "Having a lot of money or being someone's niece isn't enough to guarantee you a spot, but a good letter of recommendation might. And Agatha wrote me almost everything about you, except the reason for rushing to get you here before the next recruitment period."

The sentence was an invitation for you to speak, but you didn't fall for the bait. On the contrary, you looked away with tense shoulders, and Wanda didn't press. At least, not now. She took another drag before commenting more softly:

"We have general meetings every Wednesday. We encourage members to open up."

You grimace softly. "Group therapy isn't my thing."

But Wanda smiles lopsidedly, giving you back the joint. " Neither is nice weed." She retorts a little provocatively, attracting your attention. "If you want to try something new, show up next week. And if you want to try something good, you should try the weed from our greenhouse. It won't taste like crushed dirt." Adjusting her hair around her shoulders, she offers you a wink. "Have a good night, darling."

You think about the color of her eyes for the rest of the night.

-&-

Sooner than you'd expect, you'll discover that Wanda isn't the type to let things slide. Far from it, she notices everything, especially those who are being too slack and prone to not following the teachings of the Children of Chaos, possibly ruining their record of total efficiency or something.

She puts an end to your plans for a quiet summer, trying to go unnoticed among the countless other followers just as abruptly as she left her meditation hut. Wanda seems to appear at every moment that you consider escaping from your commitments - it even occurs to you that she has a particular interest in watching you, but the idea sounds so absurd that you push it away while forcing a polite smile before returning to your duties.

Less than two weeks after you met, you finally stopped avoiding Group Therapy and showed up on time to join the session. The presence of Wanda, in a loose dark purple dress and her red hair tied up in a neat braid, makes you almost give up, convinced that you couldn't say anything without stuttering in the presence of such a stunning woman.

But she offers a gentle smile, opening her arms softly. "Come along, darling, you're just in time." She greets and you stumble towards a corner in the background, begging the gods that you can attend in silence this time.

It doesn't seem so difficult when it's other people doing it. A young man with whom you've already shared the task of looking after the stables spoke of the frustrations of returning from enforced service with a missing limb, and how the support he didn't get from the government and family members, he found here. Bucky received a finger-snapping applause - something that was explained to you as a way to avoid triggers on the countless ex-combatants or victims of post-traumatic stress that make up the crowd - before giving his turn to another ex-military woman, Carol Danvers.

More stories were shared until Wanda's gaze fell on your slumped figure and she called your name. All the attention in the room fell on you too, and you chuckled awkwardly.

"Thanks, but I'm not good at public speaking." You retorted, but Wanda, with her hands folded over her stomach, gave you a gentle smile.

"Don't worry about it, dear, this is a no-judgment zone." She says, but you make no mention of getting up, and her gaze becomes more insistent. "It's important that we all make an effort to be present at these exercises. We encourage participation around here. Come along, dear, please." And she smiled so kindly that you could only trust her.

The group offered a small chorus of encouragement, and before you knew it, you were a few steps away from the redhead, who held out her hands for your wrists.

"I want you to take a deep breath and close your eyes." Wanda guided, her melodic voice bringing goose bumps all over your body. "Turn all your attention inward. And tell me, is there anything in there that you'd like to share with the group?"

The memories of last semester hit you full force. But Wanda massages your wrists and it feels as if she can calm down the whole storm inside of you.

You sigh, before opening your eyes. "I... I don't know where to start." Your whisper is met by another chorus of support from the members, who retort that you're safe. Wanda releases your wrists to sit with the others, and you try not to be so self-conscious while you're in the spotlight. "I think I can share with you the reason why I'm here." You declare a moment later, taking another deep breath.

Bucky gives you an encouraging smile, mimicking that of the people around him, and you swallow.

"I don't have a history of fighting and overcoming war or any illnesses, so I'm sorry to disappoint anyone." You mumble, receiving confused looks.

The former sergeant assures you: "No problem competes with another. All our pains have their importance." And it seems to be something that has already been repeated here a few times because everyone shakes their heads in agreement.

You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. "Right... well, I won't beat around the bush. A month ago, when I was first enrolled here, I had just been kicked out of my house. Well, it wasn't exactly my house anymore, because I'd been living on campus for about three years, but I think you get the idea." You say, laughing awkwardly at the anxiety in your chest. You try to clear your throat so that your voice doesn't come out so shaky, but only Wanda's gaze really helps to calm your nerves. "And the reason for this was a relationship that my parents, more specifically my mother, didn't approve of. To be fair, no one really approved, because, well, the person... hm, I don't think there's any other way to put it, was another woman. An older woman, and also my professor. And well, the whole thing would have been a scandal anyway, but I really let myself believe that when the worst was over, we'd be fine. Bad news, we weren't." You laugh sadly. You pause, imagining that you'll get judgmental looks, but everyone listens attentively. "For a while, I thought the worst part was afterward. When everyone knew and judged me, and how my mother freaked out, and I tried... but no. The worst part was not realizing what that love if I can call it that, was doing to me. How ill it was making me. And until I got here, learned things about myself, and managed to take a break from everything that was left behind... For a while, I really hoped to go back and fix everything, but now... damn, sometimes I don't even think about leaving this place."

The group celebrates quietly, exchanging words of encouragement. Your ears feel warm, and Wanda stands up again. "You can stay as long as you need, darling." She says, massaging your forearm. She calls someone else to speak, but doesn't miss the opportunity to whisper in your ear: "I'm proud, stay a little longer today, I want to talk to you."

And you think you haven't absorbed anything for the rest of the morning.

Eventually, the session ends, and as soon as the room is empty, Wanda turns her face towards you.

"You were brave today, sweetheart."

Your hands, busy putting the cushions away, tremble a little. But you offer her an incredulous chuckle.

"Yeah, right." It's your answer, which makes Wanda frown in curiosity. At her inquisitive silence, you sigh before clarifying: "Everyone's nice, but I know it's kind of silly that my big trauma is a break-up and not post-traumatic stress from war or something that actually matters."

Wanda presses her lips together, studying you for a moment, and you take the opportunity to put away the last of the cushions. Suddenly, she says:

"This lack of respect for your own feelings comes from parental negligence, I suppose." You turn your face away in surprise, but Wanda gives you a small smile: "James wasn't lying when he said that no pain should compete with another. We all have our internal and external battles, and we shouldn't belittle our pain. I believe we should honor it, and wear it. And here, dear, you will learn to do that." Wanda makes her way around to one of the cupboards at the back, and you watch her movements in silence, from reaching into one of the last drawers to returning to you with an item in hand. "I have an invitation for you."

She opens the box she's brought, and inside is a necklace very similar to the one the instructors wear. The main difference is the symbol, the crown that Wanda also carries on the pendant around her neck. You frown in confusion.

"What is it?"

She wraps the item between her fingers, her gaze on you. "The disciple's necklace. The last one from the current solstice."

You imitate the gesture, touching the item with the tips of your fingers. Wanda doesn't move her hand away as your fingers brush together, and you ignore your own shyness as you watch her bite her lip for a moment. "I don't understand what it means."

She licks her lips, and the movement doesn't go unnoticed by your eyes. "It means that you would be my apprentice. You would accompany me during periods of meditation, you would study my teachings closely, you would be... entirely dedicated to..."

"You?" you add, and Wanda lets out a shuddering breath, warm against your cheek. When did she get so close?

"If you wish." She whispers, and you pull away gently, your face hot but the last thread of sanity in your mind.

"I'm sure there are more experienced members dying for this position. It wouldn't be right-"

Wanda shakes her head, interrupting you. "They weren't chosen. You were." She assures you, pressing the box with the necklace against your chest. "And if it wasn't you, the place would be empty until the next solstice. You don't have to accept it, darling. It's not a summons. It's an invitation."

You sigh, holding the box against your chest. "I just... I've never done anything like this. I don't want to mess things up."

There's a bell in the distance, signaling the start of the next activities. Wanda glances outside briefly before stepping close enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth that makes your whole body heat up at once.

"Just listen to your instincts." She whispers, before pulling away with a small smile.

You write to Agatha about it the following evening, but you don't have the courage to seal the letter for sending. The whole conversation with Wanda seems too private to be shared in this way.

Although the woman said it was just an invitation, you could feel some pressure to make a decision, and it seems that the news had been circulating ever since one of the tutors couldn't find the box of the last chaos disciple pendant, and Wanda ended up mentioning that she had extended another invitation.

In a way, you were stalling. Between your activities and meetings, you hadn't made any decisions and you hoped that the end of the summer would force Wanda to choose someone else. But there was also the question of the new, burning feelings that had appeared since you first laid eyes on her, and which seemed to awaken every time you two were in the same environment.

The idea of departing, of leaving her behind like a closed chapter in your life, seemed absurd every passing day.

In your second month with the Chaos Children, you received a rather unusual request: take the prophet her morning drink.

The crumpled piece of paper was handed to you by one of your cabin mates: Kate Bishop. A former student, a little younger than you, who, after destroying a bell at the university, was sent here by her millionaire mother. Kate was to stay until she had balanced her irresponsible impulses and could take over the family's security empire.

She seemed a little reluctant to interrupt your concentration on cleaning the garden, but much more determined not to disappoint Wanda.

"Just give it to the kitchen staff, they'll know what to do. And prioritize, she doesn't like to wait." Said the girl, but you gave her hand a gentle tug before taking the paper.

"But why did she ask me?" you asked, but Kate had no idea and just shrugged before leaving the garden.

While the kitchen staff prepared the item, you tried to improve your appearance in the bathroom next to the lounge, wiping all the soil from the plants from under your fingers, and even what had run into your cheeks.

When you came out, there was another order on the counter and a small group of people who hadn't been there before. They didn't see you. Blonsky, accompanied by two other women you didn't know, were talking to each other.

"I bet it was Carter. She hasn't stopped talking about her private piano lessons with the Prophetess for four whole weeks." Said the first, but the other laughed quietly.

" Sharoon is a simp, that's all. Wanda wouldn't choose her after the episode with Rogers last year, she knows she can't trust her." Rebutted the other. "Besides, I would have assumed it was Bishop, after all, she already acts like a maid. Why train another when you already have one so dedicated?" The women laugh amongst themselves until they finally notice you approaching, and fall silent. Blonsky smiles, but he appears very vicious.

"Hello, miss. Wouldn't you like to have a say in who our next disciple is?" He asks you, but you shrug, moving forward in the queue in front of the canteen to grab the prophet's items that were clearly being prepared in priority.

"I don't know anything about it." That's your answer, but the shorter woman gets in your way.

"Come on, dear, it's easy." She begins with a giggle. "Every solstice, the prophetess chooses her disciples. There are 24 of them, 12 of whom will become apostles after their apprenticeship."

You grimace softly. "It's very biblical."

Blonsky chuckles. "Of course, it is, despite the multiculturalism of our group, Wanda was raised in a Jewish Christian home. You're not going to tell me you didn't know that?"

You clear your throat. "Not really. Sorry, I have to run."

But the man puts a hand in your way, only to stretch his body out on the counter and reach for some colored leaves that he crushes and drops into Wanda's glass.

"She likes it this way. I would know, I prepared many when I was her houseboy for the first few weeks here." He says, and you swallow dry, mumbling an awkward thank you before hurrying off.

The path is a little tiring, you think it makes sense of Wanda's physique if she had to climb that trail every day, and you mentally curse yourself for thinking about her body. It's not at all appropriate, honestly.

The door is open, but you knock anyway. The woman inside, wearing her typical long, loose dresses at the edge, is busy finishing a loose fringe in her hair and offers you a smile.

"Come in, dear."

You do so a little awkwardly, almost overwhelmed by the moment of entering the most private place in the whole camp. It's a beautiful cabin, you let her know, without stopping to admire the perfectly arranged surroundings. You would have thought that the privacy of this place would allow her to make some kind of personal mess, but everything is impeccably in place.

Wanda approaches to pick up the items, and the smile falters on her face at the first sip of her drink.

"Did you put... did you put maca root in this?" She asks, and your natural reaction is a short laugh.

"I didn't prepare it, Wanda."

But she doesn't smile again, her tone of voice remains the same but her attitude changes to one of false kindness. "My morning drink is an ashwagandha. I need my concentration to increase, not my libido." It really sounded like a scolding, and her attitude of handing the cup back to you, accompanied by the memory of the recent events, made your blood boil.

"Well, I'm not your fucking maid, so if it's not good, get another one downstairs, or even better, make it one yourself."

It's the first time you see any kind of fury in her gaze, hot and vibrant, and it makes something in you rouse. Your mention of leaving the cabin is prevented by her hands closing the door and trapping you against the wood.

Wanda takes a deep breath, and the gleam in her eyes changes. "Can I ask... where did this attitude come from?"

You hold the glass tightly against your body, very aware that you'll drop it if Wanda doesn't step away and let you breathe. "I just want to make things clear." You retort with a seriousness that doesn't do justice to the way your heart is racing. "I didn't come to this place to be your personal servant."

Wanda chuckles briefly, letting her gaze drop to your mouth. "Oh, of course not, darling." She whispers. "You're not the type to follow orders willingly. You'd do a terrible job."

Swallowing dryly, you retort: "And why am I here then?"

Wanda smiles innocently. "I asked you to bring my drink." It's her reply, clearly trying to tease you, and you snort impatiently.

"I bet you expected an answer. Well, I haven't made up my mind yet, so if there's nothing else, I'll just go."

Wanda moves to take the glass from you and put it on the table by the door. The next second, her hands are in yours.

"Don't be silly, of course, there's another reason." She retorts, pulling you along as she walks backward into the cabin. "I hear you love painting."

What you had assumed was her personal painting canvas is offered to you. The laugh that escapes you is shy and genuine.

"Wanda, I don't... paint anymore."

But she doesn't flinch, her hands still in yours. "I know you haven't since last semester. It was in the letter. But you've progressed so much, that I thought you could paint for me." When you don't answer, she makes such an adorable expression that your heart skips a beat. "Please?"

Wanda definitely knows how beautiful she is, and how those puppy-dog eyes can take her anywhere. You bite back a smile, agreeing, and almost forget to breathe when she jumps excitedly onto your neck, hugging it for a whole moment before letting go as if she hadn't turned you into a complete mess with one touch.

She doesn't complain about the cocktail again - instead, she drinks it entirely while you get comfortable on the painting stool, doodling for a few moments before starting to paint the only thing you could after so many months without touching a paintbrush.

It's only when the drawing is clearer on the frame that Wanda becomes restless again. Loud sighs take your attention away from the painting and towards her.

"Is something wrong?"

She smiles half-heartedly, and only now do you notice the soft color of her cheeks. "I shouldn't have ignored my own complaints and drunk that juice."

You frown in confusion, letting the brush rest next to the paints. "Was it that bad? If you want, I'll complain to the kitchen-"

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head and you have to shut up because she reaches over to push the canvas out of the way and stops right in front of you, close enough to touch.

"Remember what I said? About focus and about... my libido." She asks, and you can swallow dryly, looking up in the direction of her dilated eyes. She lets her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing the weight of her body gently into yours. "Well, I suppose you'll have to see for yourself. Hold out your hand sweetheart, no, no, down... yes, you can move my dress out of the way." Your trembling fingers brushed against her knee, and immediately obeyed the order. Slowly making your way under her dress, while Wanda bit her lip and watched you draw patterns on her thighs. Finally, your fingers reached the side of her underwear. Instead of pulling it down, you let the inks drop to the ground, and your other hand went under her dress too, repeating the same path as before while you and Wanda panted together. Your face fell forward, flush into her dress, and you pressed your nose against her, inhaling deeply the scent of arousal she exhaled so strongly.

Her hands squeezed your shoulders as yours began to pull down her panties right away. A moment later, gracefully as everything so far, she kicked the item aside and spread her legs gently so that you could slide your fingers between more easily.

You looked up the second your index finger met her warmth, gasping at the mischievous smile of the woman in front of you.

"All this time I've been here..." You started hoarsely, your fingers spreading the wetness between her folds, and enjoying the way Wanda's breath caught in her throat. "Were you this wet?"

Despite the failure of her own breathing, and the way it's harder to stand up with your intimate stimulation, Wanda gives you a mischievous look and leans her forehead against yours, her red hair making a curtain between your faces.

"I get like this every time I'm around you." She confesses, giving you a provocative tug on your lower lip that forces you to thrust inside her with more determination. Almost enough for her to lose her pose. Almost. "It's disconcerting, to be honest."

Your thumb presses down firmly on her clit, and Wanda almost buckles into you, the delicious sound that escapes her throat will be in your dreams for sure. "Well, should I apologize, high sanctity?"

She chuckles at the teasing hidden in the nickname, before leaning in completely and capturing your mouth in a fervent kiss that takes you out of orbit for a whole moment, intense enough for you to whimper into her tongue, and force her hips down into yours, practically begging her to grind your lap. Wanda's response to this is a dirty giggle mixed with a moan into your mouth.

Without breaking the kiss that turns into a much hungrier one the next second, you get to your feet, adjusting your hands to grab her thighs to pull her onto your lap and carry her around the room. Between stumbles, you press each other against the various surfaces of the room, tables, and cupboards, exchanging increasingly hot and desperate kisses, and you're pretty sure you're going to have Wanda against the bookshelf if she keeps grinding into your abdomen like that.

In a pause for breath, when she's still wedged between you and the bookcase, your mouth descends on her jaw and Wanda struggles to keep her eyes open. She whimpers shamelessly as your curious hands advance down her body, pulling her dress out of the way and leaving it barely hanging off her body for you to clasp your palms over her now-bare breasts.

Her patience for release is quickly exhausted by the precise stimulation of her breasts, your eager fingers teasing and pinching her nipples until you turn her into a whimpering mess. She gives a determined tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your face back to hers in a hard, dirty kiss that makes you shudder. She breaks it only to give an order:

"On your knees." And you groan in obedience, falling to the floor almost at once, desperately pulling her dress aside to force your face into her, now with nothing in the way. Wanda arches her back once your hot mouth finds her drenched cunt; her hands desperate for some kind of support on the shelves behind her, while her chest heaves and her hips are restless against your face.

Your hungry mouth leisurely devours her, your tongue teasing her folds, spreading her wetness around and making a mess on your face. Your closed eyes show your dedication and surrender to the task, but Wanda tugs at your hair again, trying to gain a little control back and order you to quit the teasing and fuck her the way she needs you to. Fully dilated Irises then confronts her from between her legs, and Wanda loses her breath.

"Beautiful." She panted, staring back, shamelessly grinding herself into your face. "So beautiful... fuck... on your knees for me... oh, God, detka." She struggles to compliment you, but her native language begins to escape mixed with English shortly afterward, her climax approaching. You moan contentedly at the scene, aware of the state of your own underwear from all this play. Wanda's body begins to betray her, trying to pull away so you grab her thighs with a strong grip, and one of her legs ends up over your shoulder, increasing your reach just the way she needs it to fall over the edge.

Wanda comes on your tongue, spasming against the books, and in a deep moan. You don't let her pull away, keeping her restless hips in place as you lick your way through her previous climax in search of a new one. Soon her whimpering protests at the overstimulation turn into begging, and you fail to hide the smug smile at feeling her so at your mercy for a second time.

She's so close, so close, that the Sokovian comes back to her tongue, but there's a sudden knock on the door, and all the stimulation is interrupted by your fright. Wanda gasps incredulously, losing the time to react in time due to her own lust, and having to watch you stumble away - quickly wiping her cum from your chin with the back of your hand - as she tries not to fall down on her shaking knees.

"Why the fuck did you stop?" she asks in frustration through her teeth, but you, with a very flushed face, look at her with a certain desperation.

"Wanda, there's someone at the door!" You retort as if it were a very justifiable reason to steal an orgasm from her. Wanda huffs angrily, lunging at you and ignoring your confused eyes to pull you upright by the collar of your shirt, hurriedly throwing you onto the mattress. "W-wanda, what?"

"Quiet." She cuts in, pushing your shoulders until you're lying down and following the movement of your body to straddle your lap. The person outside knocks again, and although she's pulling her off, and is still shaking from her last orgasm, Wanda manages to speak in the same tone of voice as she does every morning meeting: "What is it?"

Your protests are muffled when Wanda sits on your face, and in fact, you would have forgotten any guests if Blonsky's voice hadn't sounded in the next second.

"Good morning, Reverend, I've come to join you for today's service." Says the man, but Wanda has to bite her lip hard because you're eating her out again, somehow even better than before. "Reverend?"

Wanda shakes her head, frowning at the difficulty of maintaining a rational thought when she has your tongue inside her. "Hm, I'm not going today, Blonsky... Deliver the service in my place." She fails to sound so breathless and has to close her eyes when your hands grip her thighs tightly, holding her down.

Blonsky then sounds concerned: "Aren't you feeling well, Reverence?"

Your nose nuzzles into her clit and Wanda reaches for the headboard, a satisfied sigh escaping her. "I feel great." She murmurs back and has to take a deep breath so that the next sound that escapes her isn't a moan. "Just busy. Anything else, Blonsky?"

The man clears his throat, Wanda has to press a hand against her own mouth as you reach another right spot.

"Hm, yes, Reverend... As you know, the deadline for the selection of the disciple is coming to an end." He begins, luckily unable to hear the muffled sighs inside the room through the closed door. "I have expressed my concerns to Your Reverence about a premature choice of new members-"

Wanda snorts impatiently. "Are you really going to question my choices again, Blonsky?"

"N-no, reverend!" He defends himself quickly. "Never. I just worry that the... affinity, that Your Reverence has acquired for some new members, might affect your judgment about their vocations. The premature choice of a disciple could result in their departure from our community, and we know how the withdrawal of one of our own affects everyone..."

"Don't worry about it." Wanda cuts dry, and now, she's remarkably close to climaxing. She doesn't care about the roughness, she thrusts her hips frantically into your face, muffling your breathless moans. "Y/N is the best choice... she's... so-god... dedicated and-hm... talented-" Wanda's lucky you're quick to react too. She would have screamed to the ceiling, exposing all the inappropriate activities in the room if you hadn't grabbed her thighs and spun her on her back onto the mattress. She didn't have time to lose this orgasm by the brief interruption of your movements - your fingers took the place of your tongue when you hovered above her, and your free hand covered her mouth when you sank inside her again.

Wanda came harder than before, squeezing your fingers and wetting the bed. She clings to your body in a desperate grasp, shocked by the achievement over her body, and grateful for the muffling of her moans. You keep thrusting until she stops squirting on the sheets.

You only remember that Blonsky is still outside because he speaks again. "I'll take your word for it, Your Reverence. And I hope you've made a good choice." He says at last, the sound of his footsteps moving away is ignored by you and Wanda, who meet in a hot kiss in the next second.

Your fingers continue to thrust lightly inside her, even though Wanda shudders from the excessive stimulation. And despite this, she also controls the kiss, which slows down so that she can ask in between: "Tell me, love. Did I do it? A good choice."

You kiss her a little harder. "I still don't know... what I want... or what I should do, Wanda."

She brings one of her hands up to your wrist, stopping your movements. You open your eyes to look at her. Wanda smiles, but her eyes are very mischievous. "You think too hard when the answer is right here." She retorts, giving your hand a gentle tug. You follow her lead, and soon, you have your drenched fingers with her cum inside your mouth. Your hips move instinctively, pressing down on her, and Wanda giggles mischievously, her free hand trailing down your back to encourage the movement. "Don't you want that, baby? You can be all mine."

You suck your fingerprints clean, removing them from your mouth to support yourself on the mattress now that you're so wildly grinding your hips against Wanda's thigh. She doesn't let you indulge in the sensation, grabbing your cheek and stopping your hips with the other at your silence.

Your soft protest is ignored, and your voice is almost a pathetic plea when it comes out. "It's not fair... I was feeling so good."

"Oh, darling, I can make you feel even better, every day if you decide to stay with me." She retorts, her grip softening on your cheek. You look at her, but there is still hesitation in your gaze and Wanda wishes to replace this doubt with something else. She kisses you but pulls away when you go to increase the intensity, ignoring your protest and pushing you gently away by the shoulders. "No playing, until I have an answer."

Wanda flees - because she doesn't think she'll live up to her words if she is under you - and slips out of bed before you can grab her back. Your next long protest is muffled against the mattress because you press your face down.

Wanda giggles half-heartedly as she stands up, reaches for her dress, and tries to adjust her appearance a little. "Thank you for the sex, sweetheart, it was a very pleasant surprise, but I can't let Blonsky lead a communion, he's not good at it. And you have errands, so if you'll excuse me..." Your silence made Wanda, now dressed, look at the bed again. To her surprise, you were sitting on the mattress, hanging something around your neck.

Your gaze met hers as the disciple chain was secure on your skin. The mischief in your gaze made her swallow. Twirling the symbol between your fingers, you smiled as you asked: "So how does this work? Should I confess my sins so that you can forgive me?"

"God offers forgiveness, not me." Wanda whispers back, brazenly watching you start to unbutton your shirt, the necklace hanging in the valley of your breasts is doing things to her.

"Hm, since I'm going to be forgiven, maybe I can sin a little more..." Wanda moved on instinct, crawling onto the bed to meet you halfway like a magnet being drawn towards you.

Your foreheads touched, and she sighed against your lips. "I should punish you for this blasphemy." She says, to which you smile naughtily before sticking out your tongue to tease her lips, eliciting a low moan from her.

"Promise?" You challenge, and Wanda gets tired of wasting time.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #kinktober 2023 #marvel imagines

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ashwhowrites · 2 months

Text

No cash, no problem

Summary- Y/N can't afford to pay Eddie for the night, but he has a different payment in mind

⚠️smut- oral sex and fingering ( age gap but it's all legal )

Single milf!reader x babysitter!Eddie

~~~

Eddie struggled to find a job, he did his dealing but he also wanted a job so Wayne could know where the money came from. But based on his appearance and reputation in the town, not many gave him the opportunity.

Then he met a stressed-out mom in a store. Way in over her head and struggling to keep her three kids in check. He helped that day and now months later, he found himself their babysitter.

Eddie adored Y/N and her kids. He met her ex, he was a total dick and a shitty dad. The kids loved him, he got along the best with the two boys. They talked about movies and video games. He got along with everyone and he had a good relationship with Y/N.

Eddie had all the kids down for bed by the time Y/N arrived. He sat on the couch as he watched the TV low. He watched as she bent over to take off her heels. She sighed deeply and ran her hand through her hair.

"Stressful night?" Eddie asked, his voice causing her to jump and turn around. A relieved smile as she noticed it was Eddie. He muted the TV as she walked over. He eyed her dress, the way her body looked amazing. Her curves are more at notice with the tightness of the material. Her perfume smelled amazing and she looked gorgeous.

"You have no idea," she groaned, she began to dig around in her purse. Eddie assumed for cash for the night.

"Tried a date, right? Complete asshole, who didn't even pay for dinner. Then doesn't drive me home so I had to take a cab," her voice got more stressed as she dug around in her purse faster. "Which now I realize I gave the last amount of my cash to the driver and now can't pay my fucking babysitter." She groaned, throwing her purse on the floor.

Eddie held back a small laugh at her mini meltdown. "It's alright, Y/N. Don't worry about it." He said.

"No! You do so much for us and deserve to be paid. I mean you got Ben an A on his project, and Kasey won't shut up about you. I think she's in love. And Jack adores you. I mean you do more than their father." She ranter, steering away from the topic. "Can I double it next time? Or I can write a check?" She struggled to find a solution and she was so frantic about it. Eddie couldn't help but watch her fall apart.

"Those are all fine. Or honestly, it can be on me. It sounds like a shitty night." Eddie offered, he stood up, his body up close next to hers. He felt his fingers inching towards her before his brain knew.

"I need a bath then I'll be fine. But I'm still paying you some way." She smiled gently at him as she touched his arm. A short way to show her affection and a promise. She went to move away but Eddie moved faster. His hand grabbed her arm, and he brought her hand up to his mouth. He watched as she froze and sucked in the air. Her mouth slightly opened.

"I think I know a way you can pay me. A slightly different method." He whispered, then he took her ring finger, one that used to have a band around, and slowly put it in his mouth. He was crossing a huge boundary and he prepared for the slap across his face. But instead, she moaned and zoned her eyes in on his mouth as he sucked her finger.

"What's that?" She whispered, her voice cracked and she coughed to try to fix it. Her eyes never left his mouth as he let her finger go with a pop.

"Let me eat," he started, yanking her arm to bring her body smack against his. She stumbled into him but he kept them in balance, "that pretty pussy, momma." He whispered against her lips.

She wasn't sure if she got drunk off her glass of wine or if Eddie was truly hitting on her. He was an attractive boy, but he was just in his twenties and she was ten years older than him. It was way too wrong to feel this turned on.

"The kids." She mumbled, turning her head to look up the stairs. Eddie grabbed her chin and brought her face against his again. His lips were right on top of hers.

"Then you'll have to be quiet then, huh?" He smirked, raising his eyebrows as he challenged her.

"But..." She trailed off. She tried to wrap her brain for an argument but she felt like her brain shut off.

"You say stop, and I'll stop. Let me make you feel good, take away your stress. Feast on you like you've never felt. Not by that loser ex-husband and not that loser from tonight." His dirty words made her submit. A little pleasure wouldn't kill her and he was of age. And based on the hardness she felt against her thigh, it was something he wanted.

She nodded and allowed his lips to smash on hers. She gasped as he slammed her against the wall and his hands immediately slipped under her dress. She moved her tongue into his mouth and her hands went in his hair. She was rough and tugged. Harder each time she heard the growling sound he made.

She moaned against his tongue as his fingers moved her underwear aside, and his fingers fucked into her. Her head fell back and his mouth latched on her neck. She cradled his head as she began to ride his fingers. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep quiet, not trying to scar her children for life.

She gripped his hair harder when his thumb rubbed her clit and his teeth sunk into her flesh.

She got her breath back when he pulled away, but her break didn't last long. He dropped to his knees and pulled her leg over his shoulder. He growled at the sight of her wet pussy, pulsing and asking for more. He didn't need the extra wetness, but he still spit right on her clit. A way to mark her as his.

She threw her hand over her mouth the second his tongue was on her clit. He knew just how to suck and flick. He made her knees shake. His fingers were back inside of her as he sucked on her clit.

Eddie loved the taste of her on his tongue. She was sweet and way better than he imagined. He couldn't deny the amount of times he thought of doing this. And the many nights he craved to taste her just like this.

He didn't care to be clean, he was messy and sloppy. His tongue moved between her folds to taste every inch, removing his fingers just to circle his tongue inside. Her body arched off the wall and he could feel her digging at his roots.

Eddie moved his tongue back up to her clit, and his fingers entered her again. He went fast and slipped in three fingers, and then slipped in a fourth one. He felt her snapping before she even made a sound. Four fingers deep as he fucked her and spelled his name with his tongue on her clit, sucking harshly at the very end as she came.

Her body slumped against the wall but he kept his mouth on her, shoving her against the wall and he held her up as he finished tasting her. She was sensitive and shaking but he made sure to lick up every single drop.

She tried to catch her breath when he gently placed her leg back on the ground, he moved her underwear back in place and pushed the underwear against her sensitive clit. She bit back the whine, the material soaked up her wetness. He pushed her dress back down and cleaned off his mouth.

He smirked as he took in her fucked off state. "no cash, no big deal."

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson smut x female reader #eddie Munson smut x reader #babysitter! eddie Munson x milf!reader #babysitter eddie x reader #eddie munson x older!reader #ashwhowrites #ashwhowrites original idea

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

“Why are you wearing cologne?” Dustin asks after barely one second in the van.

“I’m not,” Eddie says, and promptly wants to die at how unconvincing that was. It’s not even technically a lie…

He makes it out of the school parking lot with Dustin saying jackshit, so for a little while, he thinks he’s gotten away with it.

More fool him.

Dustin abruptly lunges to the side, all up in his face like the world’s most dedicated sniffer dog.

“Ew, gross! Get off, man, I’m gonna crash,” Eddie says, even though they’ve been at a stop light for the past minute.

“Okay, correction,” Dustin says, drawing back. “Why are you wearing Steve’s cologne?”

Eddie stares into the middle distance, prays for The Upside Down to come and swallow him up.

An agonising silence.

“Oh my god,” Dustin whisper-screams. “Oh my god.”

“Look, just—”

“Oh my god!”

And yup, ow, that’s definitely become a full blown scream now, and double ow, Dustin has just socked him one in the arm.

“Hey!”

“What the fuck, Eddie?! How could you not—”

“Jesus! Take a damn chill pill, Henderson, I swear to—”

“Since when you do you say shit like—oh my God, Steve says shit like that. You can’t let him get to you like this, Eddie, you’re too young to die.”

“What does that even mean?”

Dustin keeps jiggling Eddie by the arm as he pulls up to Dustin’s house. Even when his stomach is jangling with nerves, he can’t fight a smile at the kid’s antics.

“Holy shit, this is big,” Dustin says with wide eyes, and it bothers Eddie that he can’t get a hold of what sort of expression is on his face. “This is huge.”

And all of a sudden, it doesn’t seem all that funny anymore.

“It’s not,” Eddie says quietly. “It’s really not. It doesn’t have to be, like… look, Dustin, can we just—if it bothers you, just drop it, and we can pretend like—”

“Wait, what? No.” And now Eddie can read the remorse on his face. “Shit, sorry. Eddie, I didn’t mean, like… big in a bad way, I swear.”

And goddamn it, Eddie trusts him. Of course he does.

“Okay.” He lets out a long sigh, tipping his head back in his seat. “Okay.”

“I just meant… like, you know The Royal Family? In England.”

…What.

“Oh, please, run with this analogy,” Eddie says, a mixture of curious and hysterical, “I’m dying to see where it goes.”

“You know, when they have news, they put it outside the… Palace? Like, on a stand. So people know.”

“Are you fucking implying that you are the public to our… wow, I’m so sorry, Henderson.” Eddie can’t take it anymore; he wheezes with laughter, can’t hide how relieved he sounds. “Next time I’ll ruin your front lawn and put a huge fucking sign there, then you’ll know that—”

“I didn’t mean it literally, asshole. I just…” Dustin shrugs. “Just meant if you wanted to, like… mention it. It would be cool. It is cool.”

“Cool,” Eddie echoes faintly.

“Cool,” Dustin repeats, emphatic.

Jesus Christ, I love you so much.

“Aw, Henderson,” Eddie says, “were you gonna make us a card or something?”

“Do you want a card?” Dustin says dryly.

And yeah, he’s being a little shit about it, but there’s also a note of sincerity hiding in there that has Eddie fighting a lump in his throat. He chuckles through it, flicks Dustin’s forehead.

“C’mon, get out before your mom thinks I’ve kidnapped you.”

“She thinks you’re an angel now, and you know it. It’s horrifying.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a Saint.”

Eddie waits until Dustin’s at his front door before reversing, watches him with silent fondness as he greets his cat.

He says through the side window, “Hey, Dustin?”

Dustin turns back. “Yeah?”

“We’d have told you first anyway. We were gonna, I swear.” Eddie scoffs. Smiles. “Not our fault you’re Sherlock Holmes, man.”

Dustin smirks, but his eyes are soft. “It was pretty elementary.”

#this is so silly. they are so silly. & i love them so #eddie and dustin #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #dustin henderson #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #henderfam

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giannaln4 · 2 months

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Away For Valentine's

lando norris x fem reader

summary: McLaren had the fantastic idea to launch their car on Valentine's day, and as much as you reassured Lando he didn't have to worry about it, he still wanted to make it up to you (1k words)

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: heyy everyone! so this is the very first fic i'm posting so please let me know what you think! i'm honestly pretty excited to get started with this blog so hopefully you guys like what i write. anyway please send some ideas my way!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

Valentine’s Day was off the table this year, and so was everything you had planned for you and your boyfriend.

You were disappointed when he shared the news with you, but you couldn’t be mad at him, not when it wasn’t his fault.

He saw the disappointment in your face, and how much you were trying to hide it by just smiling and nodding, your head finding a spot on his shoulder to avoid eye contact. He appreciated you understanding the situation, like you always did, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel guilty.

“I know we had plans-”

“Lan, don’t worry about it” You took a deep breath before looking at him again, trying to get rid of the sadness in your face “I mean it, we can do that some other time”

He was about to say something but a quick kiss on the lips stopped him. You proceeded to look at him, offering him a small smile and a glance that he knew meant ‘I don’t wanna talk about it’, so just nodded as he smiled back.

A few weeks go by and his winter break was coming to an end, meaning soon he’d have to leave the comfort of your shared home and go get started with his preseason duties. That’s something you were used to, having to see him leave for long periods of times but it barely ever affected your relationship. He always made sure he made enough time for you, even when the time difference was huge and he was feeling tired most of the time, he needed to make time for you. Your love for each other was so strong that, at the end of the day, you were just relieved you still had each other even if all you had was a five minute call every day.

But still, sometimes it was hard to see him go, and this time was one of those times.

The night you knew would be your last one with him before he left he decided to take you out on a date. Fancy clothes and an even fancier restaurant were your plans for the evening, and you knew he was trying to make up for Valentine's Day. It wasn’t the same, of course it wasn’t, but you still enjoyed every second of it.

The food, the small talk, the jokes, the stupid stories, the shy glances, the small touches, everything was perfect, almost making you forget he was getting on a plane in a matter of hours, but your smile slowly faded as soon as you remembered.

The ride back home was quieter than he would’ve liked, but he knew exactly what was going through your mind, and honestly he couldn’t blame you cause his mind was flooded with the same thoughts.

As soon as you got home he ran around the car and opened the door for you, offering his hand and kissing yours as soon as he took it. You smiled softly at him and you made your way to the door. Once you were inside, you dropped his hand to take off your shoes and tossed them somewhere close to the door, sighing in relief as you started walking towards your room.

“Mhm, come back here” He whispered as he grabbed your hand and pulled you back into him

“There you are” Lando smiled softly at you as his lips found yours. After a moment he broke the kiss, and both of his hands found a better spot on your waist as he started to move along the off-tune song he started to hum. You couldn’t contain your smile, quickly trying to keep up with him. You moved together in a slow dance, it was like your bodies were in perfect harmony.

Lando was looking down at you in pure admiration, almost as if he was trying to memorize every centimeter of your face so he wouldn't forget it while he was away, but you didn’t dare to look up, scared you would make eye contact with Lando and you wouldn’t be able to take it, so you safe option was to rest your head on his chest and pray you didn’t mess up. Although it wouldn’t matter if you did, you were just in the comfort of your living room anyway. But you didn’t wanna mess up.

He eventually stopped humming, hoping the silence would encourage you to look at him, but when you didn’t he moved one of his hands to cup your check, making you look at him. For a moment your eyes lock, making the silence feel very loud and Lando couldn’t help but smile at you, and you immediately blushed, but tried to play it off.

“You’re a terrible dancer” He laughed and you narrowed your eyes playfully and softly hit his shoulder.

“You’re one to talk” You joked, locking your fingers behind his neck and giggling when Lando scoffed.

“Maybe we should go out to dance and I could show you all of my moves” He started to move again, bringing you closer to him.

“I thought you didn’t like slow dancing”

“I do if I get to hold you this close to me” He replied, once again finding your lips.

This time the kiss was longer, both of them savoring each other’s lips while they still had the chance “I’m sorry about Valentine’s” He whispered once he pulled away, your forehead resting on his.

You giggled at this. You had assured him a million times he didn’t have to worry about that, and he still apologized every time he remembered “You need to stop apologizing”

“But I am sorry”

“I know, but it’s not your fault” You hand fell on his hair, slowly stroking his soft curls “And I had a great time tonight, so I’d say love is not dead”

He laughed at his, dimples appearing as his eyes vanish for a moment “I still wanna make it up to you”

“You will” You replied as your head fell back on his chest “But for now I just wanna enjoy this” You closed your eyes and inhaled his scent, and after a moment of complete silence you can feel him start moving again, his soft hums interrupting the peace his heartbeat was giving you.

#giannaln4 writes #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris one shot #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader

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kiss-theggoat · 4 months

Note

Gonna need a part two where the slashers realize their s/o is alive >:’(

Slashers Fix You Up

Slashers Included: Thomas Hewitt, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Asa Emory, Michael Meyers, The Sinclair Brothers

TW: Violence and Gore

Thomas Hewitt:

The wound to your stomach was deep. It tore through deep tissue and muscle, but lucky for you, Thomas knew exactly what to do.

Not only had he been stabbed like that, but he’d become really good at sewing and stitching up human skin.

You woke up, feeling groggy, but immediately recognized the basement you were in. You laid on Tommy’s workbench, shirt off and torso numb.

When you looked down you saw Thomas hunched over you, huge hands trying hard to delicately sew you up, fingers covered in your blood.

You whispered to him, and you could’ve sworn you saw his heart skipped a beat. He jumped up, immediately grabbing the side of your face with relief written all over his face, eyes wide and breath heavy. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he lost you.

Billy Loomis:

Nothing when like it was supposed to that night. Sydney got away, Stu stabbed him too hard, and the worst of all…he stood above you, watching your blood pool on the hardwood of Stu’s living room.

He bent down, putting pressure on your wound while looking around the room, taking deep breaths and trying to think rationally…he needed to get you out of here. He quickly lifted you, trying to ignore your pained groans. He hated seeing you like this.

The moment he got your arm around his shoulders and your feet on the ground, he heard them…sirens. He was conflicted. Relief washed over him. He knew you’d be getting help soon but…if he didn’t run…Syd would tell them everything. He’d go to jail, be found guilty for murder.

In that moment, he didn’t care. He helped you limp towards the front door, pushing it open. You’d lost too much blood…you didn’t even realize that Billy was sacrificing himself to save your life.

Stu Macher:

Stu watched his entire world fall apart when Billy stabbed you. He watched you fall, holding your gushing stomach, blood seeping from between your fingers.

He rushed to your side, hands covering your wound as he laid you back onto the ground.

“Just look at me. Don’t worry, keep looking at me.” He refused to let you look at your wound. He didn’t want you to be scared about how hurt you were. He lifted your hands to inspect your wound…he sighed in relief.

“It’s okay baby…the bleeding is slowing down…you’re gonna be okay…”

Asa Emory:

Asa never expected you to fall into one of his traps. He was beating himself up about it, but there was no time. He lifted you onto his operating table, covering your entire body with gauze.

He started slow, sutures and thread in his precise hands. You were covered in deep wounds, caused by rusty nails…he whispered his apologies, holding one hand as he poured antiseptic over you. It burned, it was unbearable…but you trusted him.

He carefully sewed each wound with a single suture, making sure to reassure you and stop the bleeding whenever it happened. It took him hours, but nothing would stop him from fixing you. Fixing your skin, fixing his love.

Michael Meyers:

For the first time in his entire life, he felt guilt. He felt a storm of emotions, but as he stared at your knife wound- the one his dumbass caused…- he knew it wouldn’t kill you. He’d never felt so terrible and so relieved in his life.

He quickly scooped you up, carrying you into the bathroom with shaking fingers. His hands had never shaken before…

He slammed open your medicine cabinet, hard enough to crack the glass, and popped open the first aid kit, sending gauze and band-aids onto the bathroom floor. You’d patched him up plenty of times so it should be easy…right?

Six butterfly bandages, four bandaids, and two complete rolls of gauze later, you felt like you might be suffocated by the first-aid supplies but…he’d tried his best. And, you weren’t bleeding anymore.

Sinclair Brothers:

The blow to the face had broken your eyebrow and sliced your skin, and the fall to the floor left you with a concussion and a sprained wrist. Vincent carried you downstairs gently, knowing he had the supplies to fix you up in his workshop.

All three brothers stayed by your side, and you were never alone over the course of the next week, especially while you were sleeping, until your concussion headache finally went away.

Your face was bruised and swollen and it hurt like nothing else you’d experienced, especially the cut on your eyebrow.

But, every morning when you walked downstairs, you received a kiss on the eyebrow from each Sinclair brother, and they all treated you like you were made of porcelain, even Bo.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader #billy loomis x y/n #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #stu macher #asa emory #the collector #michael meyers #bo sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #lester sinclair

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roosterforme · 4 months

Text

Always Ever Only You Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: No matter what Bradley did, you seemed frustrated with him. You needed a new car, but you needed to start communicating with him even more. He was scrambling to try to fix everything, but it was hard when you could barely stay awake for a conversation.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, pregnancy topics, angst

Length: 5900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

When nearly a week had gone by, and you still wouldn't focus on picking out a new car for yourself, Bradley was starting to get frustrated. Sharing the Bronco with you wasn't a big deal. You respected it and treated it well, but he had to play nice when you wanted to use it to go to brunch on Sunday with Cam and Maria at the same time he wanted to play golf.

"Can't Jake pick you up?" you asked him with an annoyed sigh. "I'll text him and ask if he can come get you."

"Why can't Cam or Maria pick you up?" he asked, feeling kind of fucking fed up with you at the moment.

"Fine," you replied, an eerily calm expression taking over your face. "I'll have one of them pick me up for brunch in the morning. Don't worry about it."

You turned on your heel and walked back to the bedroom leaving Bradley raking his fingers through his hair. He had finally started to feel normal again after having your parents at the house for a few days. It's not like they were even loud or inconsiderate, but he just struggled a bit with it anyway. He wasn't used to closing the bedroom door knowing Tramp liked to wander around the house at all hours of the day and night. He liked to take a piss with the bathroom door open, and he liked to randomly reach up under your shirt when you were in the kitchen if you welcomed it. And he just couldn't do any of that with other people in the house, even though it was family.

"Fuck," he mumbled. It wasn't even a big deal for you to take the Bronco to brunch. Jake or Javy could easily get him on their way to the golf course, and now he needed to go apologize to you. But the bedroom door was closed when he got there, and he immediately felt like he needed to be touching you, because you were literally the only person who could be in his personal space all day long and not usually annoy him in the slightest.

When he turned the knob, he was relieved to find it wasn't locked. "Baby Girl?" he called out cautiously, and then he found you in the bathroom. "Shit," he whispered, watching you wipe your eyes before turning toward the mirror, but there was no way to hide from him in here. "I'm sorry."

"Could you just leave me alone?" you asked without looking at him.

The words caused him physical pain, because that was the last thing he wanted right now. He'd gotten used to how much better everything was recently, and he was absolutely unwilling to stop communicating with you. "Can we talk about it? About a car? We could buy one tomorrow if you pick one out."

You turned and snapped at him. "Maybe next time just don't fuck up the one I already have!"

He had apologized to you countless times. He'd given your shit car a eulogy. He had offered to buy you any car you found that you wanted, but now he was just as mad as you were. "I just wanted to tell you that you can use the Bronco tomorrow."

"How generous," you replied sarcastically. "But I already told you I'll get a ride from Cam or Maria. Now would you please leave me alone?"

Bradley nodded and retreated back to the living room couch with Tramp, because he didn't know what else to do. He stretched out and decided to look at cars until you resurfaced to make dinner. There were two huge dealerships in San Diego that had the current model year of your old car, and they both had them stocked in several colors with different options available. You could get a new red one with a sunroof and gray interior just like you had before. He'd upgrade the stereo package to make riding in it less painful for him, but he'd buy it right now if you said it's what you wanted.

As he thought back to the way you dragged your feet about wedding planning, he muttered a string of obscenities. At this rate, he'd be sharing the Bronco with you for a long time. He bookmarked a bunch of new cars, and then he searched all over the country to see if anyone was selling an exact replica of the one he totaled. A few hours later, it occurred to him that you never came back out of the bedroom. He scooped up Tramp where he'd fallen asleep on his chest and carried him back down the hallway.

You were sound asleep in bed, curled up on your side, breathing softly. Bradley checked the time again. It was only 7:15, but maybe you just needed to rest. He tucked the covers up around your shoulders and kissed your forehead before venturing back out to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich before working out.

------------------------

By the middle of the week, you were aggressively annoyed by everything, but mostly Bradley's voice. On Sunday, Cam picked you up for brunch even though Bradley told you a million times you could use the Bronco. You didn't even want to use the Bronco. He could use it all day long. And then you went back to Cam's place and lounged on his couch until you were starting to get hungry for dinner. If Bradley wondered why you were out for a six hour brunch, he didn't ask.

But when he eventually called your phone, you asked Cam to drive you home. "Your husband is like a twelve out of ten," he murmured as he drove you. "Don't be mean to him." Then you climbed out of his car onto your driveway and rolled your eyes, because after that he was getting on your nerves, too.

So on Monday and Tuesday, you just avoided Bradley as much as you could at work after driving in with him, but on Wednesday, as he pulled into the parking garage, he cleared his throat. "Hard Deck tonight?"

"You can go," you replied as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "You can take the Bronco, and I'll just stay home." You bit your lip immediately as you said the words, because you felt like crying. You couldn't understand what was wrong with you as tears burned your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do was skip a fun night out. You also didn't know why you couldn't commit to a car. Everything felt like too much the last few days, and you wanted to scream.

"Can we talk about this?" Bradley asked, his voice pleading with you, but you didn't even know what to say.

"Later," you told him before heading for the building, but he was right behind you, undeterred.

"Don't give me that later bullshit. We've been talking and communicating a lot better, and I absolutely refuse to stop doing either of those things!"

You spun around so fast, he almost collided with you. "I have a meeting with Bickel, okay? About Annapolis. And it starts in twenty minutes. And I'm tired. And I miss my car. And I need to go."

After that, you weren't sure if he followed you or not, because you didn't turn around to check. When you got to your office and opened your computer, you saw the calendar reminder that made more tears cloud your vision. You cradled your forehead in your hand. Saturday was Carole Bradshaw's birthday.

The fact that you forgot it was coming up was worrying, because you couldn't let work take over your life again like it had in the past. You'd been mentally planning to make another fancy dinner to celebrate her day, the way you had for both of Bradley's parents' birthdays last year. Filet mignon and crab cakes and brownies.

Fuck. You wanted to sit alone in your office and cry all morning, but now you had four minutes until you had to sit down with your boss. You pulled yourself together the best you could and made your way to talk to Bickel. Cat was there too, and you could feel her intense gaze on you as if she was physically touching you. You knew she could tell something was on your mind, but you sat as calmly as you could and looked through the folder of information that was given to you.

Bickel folded his hands on his desk and said, "I'm letting the two of you decide how you'd like to present our work in Annapolis. I'm trying to finalize some dates for us, but it's looking like the first week of August. This would add two million dollars to our pending budget for next year, which would give us the opportunity to explore an even more advanced comms system. And it would be a great way for me to push for your promotion, Lieutenant Coleman."

"Yes, Sir," Cat replied immediately. When you were both dismissed, she took you by the arm out in the hallway and whispered, "Please, I need you to focus on this for me. Okay? Why do you look like you're on the verge of tears?"

"I'm having a bad week," you whispered, still unsure why you felt like this. Your fingers were tingling, and you were so anxious, you were about to walk yourself to see Dr. Genevieve. But you hadn't eaten breakfast, and it was almost lunchtime now after Bickel kept you so long. "I need lunch," you told Cat, and she sighed and walked down to the cafeteria with you.

Part of you wanted to see Bradley, but part of you did not. And something about the idea of a burrito bowl was turning your stomach just looking at it. You picked out a sandwich and some soup and found a spot at a table that was completely empty except for Bob.

"Hi," you said softly, and he looked up from his notebook with a smile as you slid into the seat across from him.

"Hi," he replied in his sweet voice that immediately made you feel calmer. "I actually was hoping to see you to thank you again. Maria has been really accommodating about me moving in, and this way I don't have to commute into the city every day."

You waved him off as you tried a spoonful of the flavorless soup. "I'm just happy it worked out. For both of you. I didn't want Maria to have some creep move in since she couldn't find anyone else. And obviously you're just lovely, Bob."

He visibly bristled a bit. "No, she shouldn't have to deal with a creepy roommate."

Then Jake dropped down in the seat next to yours and turned to smile as Cat sat on his other side. "Angel. What the hell are you doing to Rooster now?"

"What do you mean?" you asked, looking around, but your husband and Nat were still in line for food.

"He's fucking miserable today. Cranky as hell. And I know for a fact nothing can set that man off the way you can. It's honestly pretty funny, but he did snap at me three times. It's like dealing with Hondo all over again."

"Sorry," you heard Cat mutter as she ate her lunch.

You gripped your spoon in your hand and took a deep breath, but all you could say was, "I don't know." You truly didn't know what was going on. Your brain was in a constant fog, and you felt so antsy.

Bradley sat across the table from you, eyeing you carefully from his spot next to Bob. You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but you didn't know if it came across that way when he just looked sadder.

"Who's coming to the bar tonight?" Nat asked loudly.

After Jake and Cat agreed to go, you quietly said, "Not me. I have to catch up on some things I was supposed to read, but I'll drop Bradley off for the night."

Your husband shook his head and opened his mouth to reply, but Nat was already squeezing his shoulder. "Sounds good," she said, and after that, he sat quietly.

----------------------------

Bradley flew all afternoon, and it was bad. Just really, very bad. He was distracted, and the fact that Javy had to keep repeating himself was about to earn Bradley a lecture from Maverick if he didn't pull it together. But you were just making him so sad, and he had no idea why you were currently barely able to look at him without crying or yelling.

He hadn't even done anything. Had he? Yeah, he'd completely destroyed your beloved car, but the visit with your parents had gone pretty well. He hadn't missed any important dates of anniversaries. He'd been keeping up with his chores at home.

You'd been running a bit hot and cold in the bedroom. He'd never push you for more than you wanted to do, but then perhaps he hadn't been good for you recently? The mere thought had him squirming and sweating in his cockpit as he followed Javy into a dive. Shit. Could that be it? He always got you off. Except that he knew he hadn't in the family bathroom at the Padres game, but you and he had been in a rush. And that night last week when you started yawning while you rode him, he distinctly remembered you saying it didn't matter if you came since you were so tired.

Shit. Things had been going great, he didn't realize what he'd been doing, and now he had to figure out how to fix it when you seemed so disinterested in talking to him. As he brought his jet back down to the tarmac he tried to come up with a plan, but he felt helpless. These were the times he felt like having a mother of his own would come in handy, because he couldn't exactly take this to your mom.

"Fuck." He wrenched his helmet off and ran his fingers through his hair. You were sending him off to the bar alone tonight to get him out of your space, he could tell. So maybe the best thing he could do right now was just follow your lead.

After he showered and headed for the parking garage, he found you leaning against the side of the Bronco waiting for him. "Hi, Sweetheart," he said, leaning down to kiss you softly.

Your quiet response of, "Hi, Roo," made him feel a lot better, and you let him buckle you in, which was great. But then you said, "I'll just drop you off at the bar later and come back for you. I have some things I want to get done."

He nodded. "Sure. Whatever you want."

Back at home, he was able to coax you onto his lap for dinner at the dining room table, and even though it was a quiet affair, he didn't mind. He just rubbed his hand up and down your back, and eventually you sank back against him even though you'd only had a few bites of food. You were practically asleep on him as he finished eating, but you jolted up when his phone vibrated against your hip.

"It's probably just Nat," he whispered, and you nodded as you checked the time.

"I'll drop you off whenever you're ready, and I'll come back for you around ten?"

He cupped your perfect cheek in one hand and asked, "Are you sure you don't want to come? I can help you get caught up with work tomorrow or this weekend. I'm a pretty good helper."

You cracked the tiniest smile as you said, "I'm just not in the mood. You go and drink and have fun, and I'll come back for you."

He kissed your cheek. "I'll be waiting, ready to come home with you whenever you get there."

--------------------------

When Bradley climbed out of the Bronco, you watched him head inside the bar. He was wearing his white and yellow floral print shirt, part of the matching set that he'd bought for the two of you, and he looked so sexy, you were thrumming with need. You were all over the place. A few days ago, the mere sight of him had you ready to climb out the window, and now you were on the verge of chasing him down to fuck you.

"Get a grip. My god," you moaned as you pulled back onto the road. At least now you could go to the store and purchase everything you'd need to make Carole's birthday dinner in peace.

The store was quiet, which was great, because you didn't currently know if something was about to set you off. You grabbed a cart, and the cool metal against your hands felt nice. A smile found its way to your face as you listened to Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac playing throughout the store and picked out some beautiful looking steaks. Then you found everything for the crab cakes and the brownies, and you got a bottle of expensive champagne.

You were already feeling better now, almost excited to celebrate the mother-in-law that you'd never had the privilege of meeting. She deserved a special day and a fancy dinner, because even though you didn't know her personally, you were absolutely certain Carole Bradshaw was incredible. The sparkle of your engagement ring caught your eye, and you stood in front of the wine and champagne and sobbed quietly until you felt like you could continue shopping.

It had to be the combination of work and her birthday and your car that was setting you off. No matter how bad it made you feel, you'd pick out a new car this weekend. You knew there was enough in your savings account for a down payment, so you just had to force yourself to bite the bullet. You'd do it for Bradley and for yourself.

While you unpacked the groceries, you made a sandwich, finally hungry again after you'd barely been able to eat dinner. But that started to make you too full after just half of it. "Don't tell Daddy," you whispered before feeding it to Tramp.

Then you sat at the island and read through the folder from Bickel. You had weeks of research and planning ahead of you, but it would be worth it for the grant money. Cat was a solid gold choice as a partner for this, especially since she was motivated by that promotion she wanted. You were excited, but realistically so. You needed to make sure you didn't overdo things this time around. You could rely on Cat as much as yourself, and you knew that now.

When you checked the time on your phone, it was already 10:30. You texted Bradley and let him know you'd be there soon. When you started the Bronco, you got a text back.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: Can't wait for you to take me home.

You smiled and sang on your way there, already feeling better about having everything for Carole's birthday dinner ready to go. You parked the Bronco and headed inside, twirling Bradley's keyring on your fingers. As soon as you pushed the door open, the wave of noise hit you, and you made a beeline for the pool table. Penny's summer drink specials must have been on point, because the place was packed.

Just when you were trying to squeeze between two massive guys, you caught sight of Bradley just in time to see a woman walk up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. Maybe he thought it was you at first, because he spun to face her with a smile on his face. You got jostled around a little bit as your steps faltered and came to a stop. Bradley was conversing a bit with her now, although his smile was gone, and you watched as she reached up with her perfectly manicured nails and dragged them along his paper airplane tattoo on his bicep.

"Oh, hell no," you gasped, registering that Bradley looked surprised, and not in a good way. But you were frozen to the spot now as disgust, embarrassment and jealousy washed over you. It wasn't like he wasn't wearing his wedding band. He was. How was that not enough? You couldn't decide if you wanted to run away or rip her head off.

Bradley immediately started to back away from her, shaking his head as he went, and then his gaze connected with yours. He mouthed your name, and you could see the concern on his face as you swallowed hard. Instead of running away, you stood there like an idiot when he came rushing in your direction.

"Sweetheart," he said, reaching for your hand, his eyes on yours.

"Who's your friend?" you asked. Your voice sounded like it belonged to someone else while your throat burned.

You let him wrap one big hand around your back and pull you closer, holding you there. "No idea. Never saw her before thirty seconds ago."

"I didn't like her touching you."

His eyebrow quirked up as his hand dipped a little lower. "Neither did I. Especially since I got the tattoo for you, Baby Girl."

You had your arms around his neck instantly, the other woman forgotten as you kissed your husband. He tasted like your favorite beer, and you whimpered. But your body felt somehow both too tender and too needy pressed up against him as you said, "It's for me. Mine. Let's go home."

-------------------------

Bradley let you drive since he'd had a fair amount to drink. That fucking woman just about ruined his night by asking him what he was drinking and then touching his arm, feigning interest in his unique tattoo. The past week had already felt like touch and go with you, and he was unwilling to make it worse. He still wasn't quite sure how to get things back to where they had been just a short time ago.

When you parked in the driveway in the spot where you used to park your car, he almost winced. But you crawled over to his lap and started to unbutton his shirt. "Take me to bed," you told him, rubbing yourself on him through his jeans.

He grunted in response, carrying you up to the porch and wrestling with his key in the lock as you kissed his neck. Clothing was discarded along the way, and when he got you in the bedroom with the soft lamplight illuminating your skin, he moaned.

"Jesus Christ, you're a dream."

Truly, your tits had never looked better, and somehow the aroused looking little scowl you were shooting his way was really working him up as you shimmied your jeans down your legs. He was hard when you finally pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top.

"I love you," he promised as your lips met his, and you sank down around his length. Warm and wet and perfect. Holy shit, you felt incredible as you rolled your hips slowly, his hands settling at your waist. You were velvety smooth everywhere. The only thing he wanted.

He held your hips in his hands and thrust up into you as his lips met your nipple. You moaned as he licked you, but as soon as he sucked hard, pulling you between his lips, you gasped. So he did it again and again, but your hips stilled and your hands left his shoulders and reached for his cheeks.

"It hurts," you gasped, pushing his face away from your chest. "Stop."

He let his head settle back on the pillow. "Sorry." Tentatively, he brought his hand up to your left breast and gave you a nice squeeze, but you pulled away further. Then you were kneeling next to him with your arms crossed over your chest. "Sorry," he repeated. "But I always touch you that way?"

You burst into tears and said, "It just hurts."

And that was the last thing you said to him for the night as you crawled under the covers. As soon as Bradley got his erection under control by pacing around the bathroom, he walked back to the bed to find you sound asleep.

On Thursday and Friday, you didn't even acknowledge it. When he asked if it was okay if he touched you on Thursday morning, you went willingly into his arms as the toaster popped out your breakfast. And on Friday morning, you let him snuggle with you a little bit before you got out of bed, so at least he was fairly convinced you weren't too mad at him. But he just knew he hadn't been doing enough for you in bed which really pissed him off.

He was older than everyone else around him seemingly all the time, and now he was feeling insecure about it again. If he could just manage to get you to have a real conversation with him, then he'd try to fix this. But you were busy with work, something else that had a red flag shooting up in the back of his mind. No, he was not going to fuck this all up yet again. You and he had something special, and he was going to demand a conversation.

--------------------------

You poked at your lunch on Friday as Jake and Bradley argued next to you in the cafeteria. You were barely able to pay attention to them, because you were so tired, and you had another meeting with Bickel in an hour. As far as you could tell, you were getting the flu, which seemed weird for July, but nothing else made sense.

No matter how much you slept, you were exhausted. Your body was aching, and you were so damn moody. You'd practically accosted Bradley on Wednesday after you picked him up from the bar, but then you fell asleep as soon as you told him your breasts hurt. You felt embarrassed now as you looked at him next to you, because after all of that, you didn't even let him finish that night.

As you adjusted your shirt, you could have screamed at how tender your nipples were. At least it was Friday. You could catch up on reading for your presentation research, and then you could sleep.

"Come on, Rooster," Jake complained. "You have to come tomorrow. I'll leave the hard seltzers at home, and Javy and I will behave."

Bradley turned to look at you with big, brown eyes before he told Jake, "No. No golf tomorrow. I have some things I need to take care of." Then he turned back toward you and softly said, "We're talking tomorrow. About a bunch of stuff. Until we are sorted out."

Now you felt guilty as Jake shot you a look. "We can talk tomorrow afternoon, Roo. Go play golf."

"Yeah, Bradshaw," Jake piped up. "Angel said you can do shit with her in the afternoon. So you'll come with Bob, Javy and I? You know Reuben sucks at golf. He's even worse than you."

"Go," you told Bradley, kissing the edge of his mustache before you stood. "Yes, Jake, he will be golfing tomorrow. I plan on sleeping in, and the quiet house will be nice."

Bradley reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he looked up at you. "I love you."

You nodded. "I love you, too. I need to go get ready for a meeting." His eyes were on your body as you walked away, but you needed to focus on work right now.

It was all you could do to go back to Bickel's office with Cat and not fall asleep in his soft leather chair. Your boss's calm voice and the warm room were almost too much for your senses. You were fighting with yourself to keep your eyes open. Fighting with everything you had to stay engaged. An hour went by and then two, and he was still talking, and so was Cat, and they kept asking you for input. You were clinging to your extensive knowledge on the subject matter and hoping for the best when Bickel's desk phone rang, and he finally dismissed you.

"This is so exciting," Cat gushed out in the cooler hallway. "I was telling Jake last night that you and I are going to have the best presentation at the Naval Academy next month, and do you know what he said?"

"Hmm?" you hummed as you walked to the lab.

"He offered to watch Jeremiah!"

"Oh." You hadn't even really considered how hard it would be for Cat to go to Maryland with you, but this was probably a big deal. Jeremiah wasn't even two yet. "Wow. Look at Jake being an exceptional boyfriend. Good thing I pushed the two of you to actually communicate with each other."

Cat laughed and hugged you before entering the lab, but you cringed. Communication. You'd talk to Bradley tomorrow afternoon. You'd pick a car tomorrow afternoon. But when you got home today, you were going to take your temperature and then get in bed.

You had to wait by the Bronco for such a long time, you contemplated texting Bradley to see what the holdup was. It was late, you were actually starving, and you wanted to go home. You shifted your bag from one shoulder to the other, beyond annoyed that there was only one key to this thing; you couldn't even sit inside. You glared at the pretty blue paint, really missing your ugly red car with your whole heart when you heard boots pounding the pavement behind you.

"I'm so sorry, Baby Girl," Bradley gasped. He must have run the whole way here from the tarmac since he was still in his flight suit. "We ran over. I should have left the keys with you this morning. I"m sorry."

You nodded as he helped you in the passenger side door and buckled you in. "Okay."

He pulled out of the parking garage, glancing at you every few seconds. "All you're going to say is okay?"

You yawned wishing you could get undressed. "What do you want me to say, Bradley?"

He was quiet for a few blocks, but when he turned down your street, he let loose. "I want you to say something more than okay. I want you to fucking talk to me, alright? I feel like everything I'm doing right now is making you mad at me, and I hate that. I fucking hate it." He hit the brakes a little hard in the driveway, and now you were alert as you started crying.

"Fuck!" Bradley growled, hands gripping the steering wheel. "I'm sorry." He looked so upset right now, you didn't even know what to do as tears streamed down your cheeks. Then he was running across the driveway and helping you out of the Bronco and into the house, but the tears kept coming. And now your head was throbbing and you felt so sick.

"I just want to go to bed," you gasped. "Please," you begged as he kissed your forehead over and over again while Tramp jumped around.

"Of course," Bradley whispered, his lips meeting your face again before he knelt in front of you. He kissed your thighs through your khaki pants and helped you out of your boots, looking up at your face which you were sure looked like a wreck. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry I yelled."

"It's okay," you managed as the room spun a little bit. "I just need to get in bed."

He carried you there, and it felt amazing to not have to walk. Then he set you on the bed and undressed you as he asked, "Do you want some water? A snack?"

You nodded and got under the covers, and said, "Yes, please," as you started to doze off. All you managed to do was eat a handful of trail mix and chug a glass of water before you passed out.

When you eventually woke up, you felt a little better, but when you rolled over, the other half of the bed was empty and cold. It was eight in the morning according to your phone. You'd just slept for over twelve hours, and Bradley was out playing golf now. The cool fabric of his pillow on your face felt so nice, you rolled over all the way. You must have a fever and the flu. You felt too hot, and your breasts were aching. So was your abdomen. Your period was probably about to start.

You frowned and looked at your phone again, opening the calendar app. It was Carole's birthday, but it was apparently also five weeks since you'd had your period. "Oh my god." You practically fell out of the bed, your legs tangling up in the sheets as you tried to get to your feet.

"Oh shit," you gasped, running for the bathroom. You didn't know what to do first, but your stomach won as you lunged for the toilet and threw up everything in your stomach. "Gross," you groaned as you flushed the toilet, but as soon as you tried to stand, more came up. Your heart was thudding in your chest as you forced yourself to be patient and let your stomach empty itself.

When you finally could, you got to your feet again, removing your glasses to rinse your mouth out and splash water on your face. Then you dried yourself and slid them back on. You eyed the linen closet next to the door in the mirror before turning around slowly. As you strode across the tile floor, Tramp came in to investigate, but you ignored him as you closed the distance to where you thought you might have one last pregnancy test hidden away.

You opened the narrow door and knelt down, and then you started throwing everything from the bottom shelves over your shoulders, frantically searching. You saw the box, and you tore it open. You already knew what to do, because you'd done it so many times before, but your hands were shaking as you removed the test and looked at it on your palm in the foil wrapper.

Tramp whimpered at you as you got to your feet again and made it to the toilet, this time pulling your underwear down as you went. When the wrapper fell away, you took the test, hands shaking as you set it on the edge of the sink vanity when you were done. Then you wiped as you started to panic. Three minutes. You needed to wait for three minutes.

Your phone was simply too far away as you started counting out loud, your voice echoing around your bathroom. It wasn't ready yet. You climbed into the empty bathtub, sitting and wrapping your arms around your knees. And you counted.

You closed your eyes, and you counted. You looked at Tramp, and you counted. You pressed your forehead to your knees, and you counted all the way until you reached one hundred and eighty.

"Three minutes," you whispered, your heart beating so hard, it was making you feel like you might need to throw up again. You climbed out of the tub onto unsteady legs and held your breath as you walked to the vanity. Very carefully, like it was the most precious thing you'd ever touched, you picked up the test. You checked the result before promptly dropping it to the floor.

------------------------

Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 27

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

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@blog-name6996

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643 notes · View notes

buccini555 · 4 months

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 - 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧

≡ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚... They called you (their wife) several times but you didn't answer because your cell phone just ran out of battery, but this ended up worrying them

⌕ x r e a d e r !

★ 𝑭𝒕. Manjiro Sano, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Rindou Haitani and Kakucho Hitto

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨

Manjiro called you frequently when he wasn't idle to make sure you were okay even though he was so far away from you, at that moment, he had been trying to call you for some time, when he realized that your cell phone was out of range, he began to become extremely worried.

"Honey? Answer, now, dammit!" He would say dialing your number countless times, with each missed call he became more distressed, pacing from one side to the other, all he could think was that something bad had happened to you, Manjiro began to tremble, as if his heart was being crushed, even so, he continued to call you insistently, leaving several messages and sending several messages.

"Babe? Where the fuck were you? Shit, I was worried about you." As soon as you managed to charge your phone's battery, you returned Manjiro's calls, who answered immediately.

"Sorry, my phone died." You said, noticing the distress in Manjiro's trembling voice and the anxiety in his intonation.

"Start paying more attention to your damn phone battery... I'm glad you're okay." He felt calmer knowing that his concern was unnecessary, so he soon ended up hanging up the phone call.

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐨

Haruchiyo cares extremely about his wife's well-being, so whenever he's not around to keep her safe, Sanzu takes advantage of any free time to make a few calls to see if everything was okay or if you were really in need of something.

As usual, he called you, noticing the delay in a response, the taller started to get a little impatient and uncomfortable, realizing that this was an unusual situation, concern took over him.

"Shit, shit! Something happened... I'm sure it happened." Sanzu said in a loud thought as he sent you thousands of messages, still calling you instantly and realizing that your cell phone was out of range, his desperation only increased every minute as if he was about to have an anxiety or panick attack.

"Honey? Honey where were you? I was worried, did something happen?" As soon as you could answer, Haruchiyo didn't even allow you to explain yourself, already filling you with questions.

"I'm sorry, Haru, my cell phone ran out of battery." You spoke, relieving his anxiety at that moment.

"Holy shit, I thought you were kidnapped." Haruchiyo laughed nervously and reassured himself that you were okay.

𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

No matter how busy and busy Rindou was, he always found a way to call you to see if you were okay even with his absence because he was far away, Rindou remained even more worried in case something happened to his wife.

"Hey love?" Rindou said, but before you could even respond, your cell phone's battery died, as soon as the call dropped without the older even hearing your voice, a huge worry took over your chest.

"Fuck!?" He sent you countless messages and tried to call you back countless times, however, he realized that your cell phone was out of range, probably turned off, this fact made him feel even more distressed by your sudden absence.

"Rin? Sorry, my phone died." When your cell phone called again, you could finally talk to Rindou, seeing so many missed calls, you couldn't even imagine how worried he was.

"It's okay, princess. The important thing is that you're okay." He breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he heard his voice, Rindou spent a few minutes questioning if you were really okay as he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨

When he had to be away from you for some reason, Kakucho was completely concerned about being away in case something happened to you or that you needed him by your side, even if he was busy to the bone, Kakucho always found a way to get away from you a time to at least give you a call to make sure his wife was safe and well.

"Love?" He questioned himself as to why his cell phone was turned off and out of range, as unusual as it was for you not to answer his calls, at first, Kakucho tried to simply remain calm, but with each missed call his concern only increased, making him call you countless times and send countless messages, Kakucho began to think about what bad could have happened to you, making his heart beat increasingly faster due to anxiety.

"I'm sorry! My phone was out of battery, Kaku." When I finally managed to talk to him, he noticed how desperate he was, Kakucho honestly worried a lot, but all of this was a reflection of his love for you.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry for calling you so many times, I'm worried, I love you." Kakucho replied, still frantic but with his heart relieved to know that nothing bad had happened to you as he had compulsively imagined.

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quaintii · 11 months

Text

Miguel Imagine Part 2

Gif taken from TikTok @almenhenn, not mine. Please check it out!

dom!Miguel x fem!reader

(long fic) :3

Contents: rough sex, choking, hair pulling, slapping, breeding kink, bdsm, oral sex, angry sex, degradation kink, praise kink, angry sex, mating press sex position, sexual tension, mirror sex, nelson position, masturbation, sex toy, fang kink, sir kink, etc.

MDNI.

a/n: sorry if this is quite long, just trying to feed u hungry miguel whores (aka me) this gon be nastyy

You were too anxious to go to his office, but you had to. Every Spider man/woman had to submit in their reports at least every week to Miguel or Lyla because it was a mandatory checkup. You haven’t seen him since that incident, it runs through your mind constantly. You sometimes use your vibrator to relieve yourself of that immense need that you crave so desperately

~Tonight you were pulsing throughout the whole day. You couldn’t stop aching for his touch, you want to go on your knees and beg for him to tease you, to use you like a fucking slut.

You turn on your vibrator and place it on top of your clothed clit, imagining it was his hands opening your folds whilst licking your slickness.

“F-fuck..this feels so painful..” Despite the vibrator making you jerk and twitch and spwel a couple of loud moans, it didn’t feel enough. You really wished he hadn’t stopped that day. You pushed two fingers inside your wet cunt, dragging them in and out slowly while poking that soft spot that made you mewl.

”M-miguel, fuck…I want your cock inside of my pussy..please fuck me until I can’t w-walk..” You say as you start reaching your climax. Your cunt clenching hardly on your fingers as the vibrator finally made your clit release that sweet sensation through your system. You started twitching and moaning, still not removing your vibrator off your clit so you could overstimulate yourself. “Nghnmf..please fill me with your cum Miguel..” You mewl. You then approach your second orgasm, making you hold in your breath and your heartbeat fastening and pulsing loud in your ears, feeling the blood rushing.

You arched your back and rested your head on your pillow, grabbing onto your sheets and palming them on your mouth to prevent you from screaming ecstasy. You then try to steady your breath back in order as you stare directly at your ceiling. Once again, disgusted because you just masturbated about your boss. But you had yet wanted a taste of him.

Today was the day. Your weekly checkup. Unfortunately, Lyla was offline so you couldn’t submit it to her so you had to face him.

As you were getting ready, you dolled yourself a bit but not too excessively to the point someone would weirdly point out. You wore a professional blazer dress with small heels, but allowed your cleavage to pop out a bit. Teasing him was your favorite thing to do. You began approaching his office.

Your heels tapping on the floor, causing echoes to spread across the huge room. Miguel was looking through the perspective cams at the top of his floating floor, you always thought it was stupid that he would slowly go down. “C’mon Miguel, I seriously don’t have all day for you to make this ‘entrance.’ You place two fingers on your nose bridge, sighing. “Should I remind you who makes the rules around here again? I don’t understand what gives you so much balls to talk to me like you command me.” He rolls his eyes at you. “Don’t be so egotistical, Mig..you have to stop being so full of yourself. Work on that. Here are the files, take a look through them and I’ll get going,” Miguel hums and looks back and forth at the files and your face.

“Me? Being full of myself?” He chuckles with a smirk. “How about you work on not looking like a total whore.” You audibly gasp as soon as he blurts out that word. Whore.

"I am one of your employees, you should respect me! I can’t handle your awful behavior sometimes, you’re so annoying.” You say.

“What makes you think that I also can’t fucking stand you whenever you open that fucking mouth of yours?!” He says angrily as he approaches closer to you, towering you. “You really need to be taught manners because you can’t seem to behave.” He glances at your breasts, a shaky sigh leaving his lips.

Miguel is trying his best to restrain himself from breaking you right now because you just look so vulnerable, he wants to take that smug look of yours off your face. Replacing it with him thrusting deep into you, making you not be able to even think a coherent thought.

The way his suit would perfectly shape around his muscles had you pool more into arousal. There was a loud silence between the both of you and you dared not to speak. “I thought you were going to keep up with that bratty attitude? Where’d it go?” He snickered. “Shut the fuck up, Miguel. Forget it, I’m leaving.” You turn your back to face the door, being completely covered in red webs. “Let me out you weird fuck!”

”You see, I’m so frustrated how you always seem to stress me whenever you come inside of this office. You’re going to regret being a fucking brat and learn some manners ‘round here, ‘kay?” Your back hitting the door, your breath hitches as Miguel struts towards you. You try running an opposite direction til you feel a web grab around your waist and place you on a chair.

Your hands now tied up behind your back and your legs separated, also tied to the chair. “L-let me go..now.” You spurt out. “Why should I? I can smell something that says the exact opposite.” He gets closer to your face, lowering himself to your level. “I mean you arrive in that dress of yours to tease me again? Do you even understand how badly I want to rip it off your body?” You shiver a bit from his cold tone. “I’m s–sorry Mig.” Miguel grabs your chin harshly. “Don’t call me that.” His chest heaving a bit more noticeably.

You aruptably gasp as he suddenly spreads your legs, his face getting closer to your clothed cunt. He nibbles and licks your outer thigh. You try not to give him satisfaction and hold in your whines. “You’re still being a brat? Let me hear you, carino. Todavía no vas hacer caso?” (You're still not going to behave?) He presses two fingers against your clit, rubbing it slowly. He rips off your panties and licks your wetness with his warm tongue. You still refuse to let out your moans, you resisted the urge to give in even though you desperately wanted to.

”No seas asi, tesoro. No te va encantar lo que te voy hacer si me vuelves ignorar. Quiero escuchar tu sonidos bellos.” (Don't be like that, love. You're not going to like it if you ignore me again. I want to hear your sweet sounds.) He swirled his tongue on your clit and spread your folds with his girthy fingers. Miguel loved seeing you squirm and still attempt to hide your mewls. He rapidly slid in two fingers inside your cunt. You finally let out a choked groan that’s been awaiting to be released from your aching throat.

”Fu-fuck..m-more Miguel.. touch me please.” You whine. “No tan rápido, mi reina.” He slurs as he places his hot mouth onto your pussy. Two fingers inside of you, being pulled in and out in a fast pace while his thumb massaged your clit and his tongue nibbling on your folds.

You lean your head back, accepting into submission. You wanted to cum around his fingers, for him to feel how good he makes you feel and how your cunt would clench so tight around his cock. Miguel rips off your clothes right off your frame, leaving you fully exposed in front of him. His voice groaned as he has a clear view of your curvy body. He moves his head up to suck on your nipples, pushing his tongue on your nipple causing you to twitch. His face was a mix of arousal and anger that still lingered. He moved his fingers slightly quicker, keeping a solid pace.

You felt like you were going to come, the pleasure felt so good and you were yet so needy for more. “Please Mig…make me cum..I can’t hold it in anymore.” You whined. “Please.. I can’t-“ You sobbed, the only thing keeping you in place being his hard grasp on your left hip.

“Please what?” You could feel him grinding against you as his fingers fucked you silly. No matter how badly he wanted to be inside you, he almost prepped you for him. He knew how big he was and how much he could destroy you.

His fingers only went even faster when you said that while he rested his head on your shoulder. He sunk his fangs deep inside your flesh, causing you to spring up and release your orgasm. Your screams and whines echo in the room, begging for him to stop because it was just too much for you. “I thought you could handle this..fuck..”

Your body was overtaken by a wave of electricity flowing through your veins. Your body shaking and your cunt throbbing. Your vision is blurred out with tears. You’ve never felt so breathless. Miguel loved how your pussy spasmed and clenched so tight on his fingers. He pulled out his fingers and sucked them clean. Seeing that explicit look of him only made you want more. “You taste so fucking good, so sweet. You’re such a fucking good girl for cumming around my fingers.” He whispers as he presses his lips onto yours. Both of your tongues are destroying each other, the both of you becoming breathless.

Miguel removed the webs tied around you and placed you right on top of his table. You look at him through your teary lashes, your mouth agape. “I want to taste you Miguel, I want to taste your fucking cock around my throat.” That alone was enough for Miguel to force you down onto your knees and slam his cock inside of your warm throat. You choke around his sudden thrusts pick up fast. Your tongue swirls around his length, taking all of him in your mouth. “Your mouth is made just for me, only mine. You’re such a dirty whore, taking me all like a fucking slut..” He groan and his head rolls back.

His hands run along your hair, grabbing it to push you deeper onto his cock. Small tears trickling past your cheeks. The gurgling and slurping you were making made Miguel harden, along with small whimper sounds parting from Miguel’s lips were the only noise around you both, it just made you even wetter.

You loved how his cock would repeatedly twitch inside your throat, so you hollow your cheeks which make him loudly groan and jerk his hips harder.

Your moans would make his cock feel so fucking amazing as it would make your mouth clench around his cock. He looked down at you, seeing how good of a slut you were taking him. He loved seeing you under him like this, taking him so well he thought. You clawed your fingernails deep into thighs, tapping on them so you could take a chance to catch your breath. “Miguel, please just put it in..” You moaned, reaching back to swirl your hands around his tip, getting a lovely groan out of him. You lowered your head on to him once more, teasing his tip with your tongue as your right hand pumped his cock all the way from the base to your mouth. You kept a close eye on him though, making sure he didn’t cum.

He immediately removed your mouth from his cock. That’s when you felt his bare cock teasing your entrance, covering himself in you. His voice was low and husky, laced with want. “I’m going to fill this pretty pussy of yours.”

Miguel didn’t want to cum inside of your mouth, he wanted to pump his hot cum deep inside your womb. He wanted to breed you like an animal. He quickly pulled you back up from your knees, placing your legs on his shoulders. You were now in a mating press position. He slammed his hips against yours, reaching your cervix.

Miguel could get a perfect view of his dick aligned with your warm cunt, how your cunt would suck him perfectly. Your eyebrows furrowed as you cried out, taken back by his cock pounding up into you. You slumped down, resting your head on his shoulder, to cock drunk to do anything else. "F-Fuck you're so good at this!" You shriek when he had his fingers pinching each of your nipples as he bit on the soft spot of your neck.

"Mm, I know, cariño." The way he whispered in your ear made you shiver above him. You held onto his arms but at some point Miguel slipped one arm down, rubbing your clit to increase the tension as he thrusted deep inside you. You were so cock-drunk, you couldn’t let out any word besides moans.

Miguel altered your positions so you were now facing a mirror. “You like it, huh, cariño?" He growled as his pace fastened deeper into your cunt. The sight of him fucking you in the mirror drove you crazy, crazy that you were clenching so tight - “You’re my little dirty slut aren’t you, muñeca?” "Yes sir, I love your cock inside of my f-fucking pussy..."

"Say that one more time and I'll have you screaming my name. He said dangerously.

"Please sir. Let me…" He pulled away from you and flipped you over so you were now underneath him. Still in front of the mirror, MIguel grabbed your throat, pulling it so you could arch your back.

Miguel moaned as you clenched your walls around him, the feeling of heat as your bodies collided driving you crazy. Your nails scratching at nothing but the floor. He plants his lips onto your sensitive neck, leaving it bruised for later.

Each thrust deepens, stronger and more irresistible. Miguel wrapped his hands around your neck, making you choke but excited at the same time. You looked in the mirror to see Miguel in such an erotic position on top of you. It was hot. Your walls clenching around him makes Miguel stutter his hips against your back, finally painting your plushy walls, white. The overwhelming feeling leaving you completely breathless, your body twitching and moving without your control. Your chest heaving heavily as you gasped for air. You eventually pass out.

You wake up to a warm feeling spreading across your body. You open your eyes hazily, turning your head towards Miguel who's massaging your back with oil. You let out a soft groan, it felt so relieving. You haven't been this relaxed since..ever. "Estás despierta muñeca?" (You're awake, doll?) You hum, resting your face on the pillow. "Hope you liked it." Miguel chuckled. "You left me with numb legs so I loved it. Gracias, Miguel." (Thank you, Miguel.) You say. "Te nada, mi vida." (Your welcome, my love.) The tension between of you finally cleared and your relationship grew closer than ever.

Taglist: @spid3rslvt @horror-cassettes @cl-0-vr @mars-yyy

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel atsv #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara one shot #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel smut atsv

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aemondsbabe · 4 months

Text

Into the Woods

summary: in nature & deepthroating || you just can't resist aemond after he's been riding

pairing: aemond x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, public kind of (they’re in the middle of the woods and no one shows up but it’s still public ig???), dirty talk, deepthroating, gagging on a cock, oral sex (m receiving), cum, swallowing cum, brief spitting, crying but it’s good, allusions to oral sex (f receiving), aemond treating vhagar like an oversized housecat, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.9k

a/n: happy day six of 12 days of smuff! halfway there!!! i hope y'all enjoy this, frankly, depraved one!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @hoosbandewan!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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“And one more step, sweetling,” Aemond says from behind you, his hands firmly on your waist as he helps you climb down from Vhagar’s enormous saddle. Finally, both of your feet touch the earth once more; you can’t help but let out a relieved sigh, no matter how many times you ride Vhagar with your husband, you’re always thankful to make it to the ground in one piece. “There we are,” he says with a smile, spinning you around and sweetly pressing his lips against yours, “Perfect, as always.”

Even after so many years together, you still blush at his compliments. “You were right about going riding today,” you admit with a small sigh, thinking back to him finally convincing you to accompany him earlier that morning, “It was absolutely breathtaking as usual.”

Aemond merely smiles and leans in to kiss your forehead, lilac eye soft as it meets yours, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, my love.”

Finally, he turns to Vhagar with a bright smile, the only time he ever smiled fully, with his teeth. “Se ao gōntan rōvēgrie tubī tolī, ñuha gevie riña,” he said brightly, stroking his hands along her rough scales as if he were petting an enormous cat, “Kirimvose, Vhagar.” He whispers, downright reverently, and rests his forehead against her for a moment, as if he were trying to communicate telepathically with the giant beast. (“And you did great today too, my beautiful girl.”) (“Thank you, Vhagar.”)

And for all you know, maybe they are, for it‘s at that moment that Vhagar grumbles contentedly, the pattern of it familiar to you now. She swings her massive head around to sniff Aemond, huffing in a way that sounds pleased, even to you, like she’s just as happy being with him as he is with her.

Finally, her huge, breathtaking orange eyes fix themselves on you. Your heart leaps in your chest, it always does, and you can’t imagine there will come a day when it doesn’t. Steadying your breath, you lift your arm in the smooth, calm way Aemond showed you many years ago, and extend your hand out. Your breath catches as she leans in and you glance at Aemond, who is still rubbing away at her side and murmuring Valyrian praises, a soft smile on his face. Vhagar huffs as she sniffs your hand, her warm breath fanning over your arm, before another loud purr rumbles through her, evidently pleased with you in some way you’ll never understand, before turning her head back around and resting it against the forest floor, an indication that she’s done for the day.

Aemond pulls away from her with a sigh, patting her once more before taking your arm and leading you from the massive forest clearing in which the dragon resides. “It’s a pity she’s too large for the Dragonpit,” you say sadly as you and your husband walk hand-in-hand down the narrow, winding path that leads back to the Red Keep, “I hope she doesn’t get lonely out here.”

Aemond huffs out a small laugh, smiling as he turns his gaze toward you for a second. “Truthfully, I think she likes it out here,” he murmurs thoughtfully, “She needs some solitude, I believe.”

“She’s very much like her rider in that way,” you smile, bumping your shoulder against his, “Always needing alone time.”

Aemond is quiet for a second, sinking into that contemplative silence he so often went to after a long day. Just when you’re ready to accept that the rest of the walk back would be done in silence, he speaks again. “Never from you, though, my love.” He says lowly, squeezing your arm a bit tighter as he does.

You look over at him with a soft smile, the evening sun shining through the canopy of leaves overhead lights his pale hair in a golden halo, making him look every bit as ethereal as the Targaryen’s are rumored to be.

The light in his hair makes you think back to earlier that day, makes you think of every time you’ve ridden Vhagar with him. You think of how commanding he is on the saddle, how regal and elegant he looks with the breeze blowing through his long hair. How free he looks, how happy. On dragonback is truly where your beautiful husband shines, where he’s most himself.

It makes a familiar heat burst to life within you.

Suddenly, you feel nearly dizzy with how badly you need him. How badly you need to please him, to worship him like he’s one of the Gods.

Unable to contain yourself further, you come to a quick stop before pressing him back against the thick trunk of a tree, catching him so off guard that he has no time to react and lands with a soft thud against the bark.

“What — ?” He hardly has time to voice the question before you’re pressing your lips against his desperately, letting out a shuddering, high-pitched moan as you press yourself against him. The kiss is more teeth and tongues than anything else, Aemond determined to keep pace with you as he pulls you ever tighter against him, his length already hardening in his leather riding trousers at your eagerness.

Finally, you pull away from him with a soft, shy smile, teeth biting into your lower lip. “Where in the Seven is this coming from?” Aemond asks, peering at you with amusement.

“I need you,” you nearly whimper, grabbing at his leather tunic, “Now.”

His eye widens, glancing around the forest before flicking back to you, “What, here?” You merely nod, and he huffs out a small laugh, “Sweetling, why not wait until we’re back in our —.”

“I can’t,” you sigh, cutting him off yet again as you trail kisses down his jaw and neck, “Need you now.” You murmur before sinking to your knees, though you don’t miss the way his eye darkens as your knees plant themselves against the earth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, fingers immediately running through your hair, smoothing it out in the way he always does, “My love —.” He starts again, and you can sense the refute coming.

“Aemond, if I don’t, I fear I’ll die.”

“You’ll die?” He laughs, blushing despite himself, as he cups your cheek gently in one hand, sighing as you lean in and press warm kisses against the outline of his hard cock through his pants, “We definitely don’t want that… get on with it.” He pants, lightly tapping your cheek in a way that makes your eyes flutter, the casual dominance of it sending you into a tailspin.

Your hands shake with need as you quickly unlace his breeches, your groan almost as loud as his when his hard length springs out, his cock already throbbing and dripping before you even wrap your hand around him.

You peer up at him through your lashes as you finally grasp his length, whimpering at the way it twitches against your palm.

Just as you’re about to lean in and lick the tip, he stops you with another gentle tap against your cheek, “Open.” He commands simply, and you blush deeply as you comply, opening your mouth in a perfect O shape as you look up at him. You watch as he gathers spit in his mouth before he leans forward and nearly connects your lips before spitting harshly into your mouth, chuckling at the breathy moan you let out as it settles against your tongue, “Good girl, sweetling.”

His simple praise is enough to have your center aching and you continue with more determination as you wrap your lips around the head and suck gently, using your hand to stroke his length as you do.

The effect is instantaneous, a proud heat stirring in your belly as Aemond’s head falls back against the tree, his Adam’s apple bobbing deliciously as he lets out a gruff moan. His fingers twine through your hair as you begin bobbing your head over his length, slowly taking more and more of him into your mouth, savoring the heavy feeling of him resting against your tongue.

You focus on breathing through your nose as you take as much of him into your mouth as you can, until your nose rests firmly against the warm skin at the base of his cock. His length swells into your throat, making your eyes water as you look up at him, watching the way his chest heaves as you try not to gag.

Finally, he looks back down at you and growls low in his chest, resting a hand on the back of your head as you work your mouth over his cock, not enough to push your head down but enough to remind you he’s there.

You moan around him, one hand braced against one of his thighs while the other comes up to cup his stones, gently kneading them in time with your gags around his length, a few tears streaming down your cheeks as you let him prod at the back of your throat.

“Gods,” he rasps, sucking in air through his teeth, “You want me to breed that sweet little throat, my love?” He asks, his voice low, nearly menacing, as he gazes down at you, lilac eye almost black enough to match the patch that covers the other one.

You nod around him as best you can, determined to keep him in the back of your throat until he meets his end and, lucky for you, that doesn’t seem too far off.

“Sweetling,” he rasps, fingers tightening in the hair at the back of your head as he ruts his hips against you, spearing your mouth somehow further down on his cock, a handful of times before he groans loudly, eye rolling back in his head as his length pulses in the back of your throat, his spend pouring into you.

Your eyes water as you take all he has to give, fingernails digging into the leather covering his thighs as you swallow around him. Finally, he relaxes and you pull off of him and suck in deep lungfuls of air, coughing a little as you wipe a hand over your mouth.

Aemond pulls you up to him, cupping your cheeks gently as his thumbs wipe away your tears. “Oh, my sweet girl,” he whispers reverently, eye sweeping over your face as he takes in your flushed cheeks and rosy lips, “You did so well for me.”

“I always hope to please you, husband,” you say with a soft smile, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips before sighing as he trails kisses down your jaw and throat.

Before you know what’s happening, he whirls you around, pressing your back against the thick tree where he once was. You open your lips to ask what he’s doing but he silences you with another kiss.

You gasp as he sinks to his knees in front of you, a mischievous smirk on his face as he pulls up the skirts of your gown. “So well, in fact,” he starts, pressing kisses up the inside of your thigh, “That I think my good girl needs a reward.”

Any reply you had waiting dies on your lips as a moan escapes you at the first swipe of his deft tongue against your soaked core, your hands tangling in his hair in the same way his had in yours. Yes, you thought as you tilted your head back against the tree, The Targaryen’s are absolutely sent from the heavens.

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