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b1rds3ye · 10 months

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Victory Kiss

Turns out Graves gets very passionate when celebrating a successful mission. And when you’re nearby you end up facing the brunt of it.

Pairing: Phillip Graves x GN!Reader

Reader Aliases: Chief

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Pre-MWII

Word Count: 1.5k

Warning: Graves kisses reader without prior consent (not malicious but please read at your own discretion)

A/N: Probably OOC Graves but imagining this was too entertaining to me 😋

You’ve gotten used to this.

You’ve gotten used to Graves’ infectious energy after a hard-earned win. He was a natural leader, cunning and brimming with charisma, but carefully restrained as to not be impulsive in high stakes situations. But when the stakes were low - such as times like now - Graves was free to be as expressive as he wished. And as second in command to Shadow Company, required to always stand by his side, you got front tickets to watch it unfold.

Shadow Company had offered unofficial air support in the depths of Kastovia. With every operation the stakes were getting higher and higher. After deploying all ammunition until resources were depleted, it seemed the entire aircraft waited with bated breath as you surveyed the ground through a heads up display. You sensed Graves beside you, his looming shadow gave more contrast to the monochromatic screen. Each pixel flickered from the daylight, the movement of trees and friendlies through the screen setting false flags in your mind.

You pulled back to look at Graves. His face was stern, the muscles in his face taut, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he tried to read your neutral expression. You shook your head.

“Confirmed hit, all hostiles eliminated.”

And there it was, like a switch flicked inside of him, you felt a little proud that you were the one who triggered it. Graves slammed his hands on the front console, pushing himself off to stand tall, brimming with energy. He was now adorning that familiar smile, a little wonky but charming all the same. With a heavy arm, he gave you a hefty slap on the back in congratulations, one that would’ve sent your head through the display if you weren’t prepared.

“That’s what I’m fucking talking about Shadows, this is how you get the job done!”

The entire atmosphere of the compartment lifted, you wouldn’t be surprised if the aircraft itself increased in elevation. There were sighs of relief, cheers of joy and hugs of a job well done. You never got sick of this sight, it reminded you what you were fighting for, to bring these boys home and secure victory.

It was a familiar sight, but it was comfortingly predictable. You watched with amusement as Graves paced around the room, praising each individual member in a voice so loud it damaged your ears once, then bounced off the walls to hurt your hearing for a second round. Each recruit responded with the signature ‘yup-yup’ and beaming smile. With each comment given, Graves was getting more and more drunk off the adrenaline which after months of observing him, came with some interesting habits of his.

It was fun hearing him swear like a sailor when he usually keeps his language so restrained he could be put on a children’s show.

“I saw your shots Erikson, that was the shit.”

“Vance you saved our fuckin’ asses with that extra fire.”

“Send this mission report to Shepherd and your dads will be back with the milk before you fucking know it!”

You’re pretty sure Graves has no idea what’s coming out of his mouth at this rate and to be fair neither do you nor the rest of the Shadows.

You stifled a snicker as you watched on. He continued with his questionable praise, not even stopping at the aircraft itself to which he gave an encouraging spank to the metal wall, only to recoil his arm when it unmistakably hurt his palm. Even on the other side of the aircraft, you caught snippets of what he said and you were sure the cheerful laughs of the Shadows were out of respect and not because they understood him. Although with an accent and voice like his, he could make a nonsensical string of sounds and you’d be nodding along.

Graves had gone full circle and made his way back to you.

“And to the soldier of the hour.”

He reared his head to you with such a leading force that the rest of his body had a hard time keeping up. His arms swayed from the momentum.

Just like every routine celebration, he planted his hands securely on your shoulders. His face is graced with the same charming smile he’s given you for months. Even under the red lighting of the aircraft he looked nothing short of a budding hero, the blue of his irises shone against the shadows cast over his face.

You expected the praise.

“Beautiful fuckin’ work, Chief.”

What you didn’t expect was the kiss that came straight afterwards.

You didn’t even have time to reply as Graves used his leverage on your shoulders to pull you in, lips crashing against yours. It was chaste, but the sheer strength he had made you sure your lips will bruise. Your mind blanked, adrenaline numbing any potential pains. The whirring of the aircraft’s turbo engines were drowned out, your vision dimming at the edges as all your senses honed in on Graves’ lips pressed into yours. It lasted no more than a single second until he separated from you, lips parting with an exaggerated but unintentional mwah.

“Dunno what I’d do without you,” he breathed out, only for you to hear. He watched you innocently, the skin around his eyes wrinkled in excitement, hands drifting down until they were on your biceps, rubbing your arms affectionately. However, you had to tear your gaze away from him and to the rest of the aircraft.

Graves just kissed you…

… in front of Shadow Company.

Your stomach dropped as you made eye contact with the entire team who now watched the two of you like teens tuning in to the hottest new flick. They were here for the drama, quiet as they waited for your response but smiles of anticipation creeping onto their faces.

“Eyes off, Shadows.”

Graves’ voice returned to its usual commanding tone, as though you were back in the mission. There was the grumble of ‘yup-yup’s’ as the rest of the team made the show of focusing on their stations (but you knew they were still sneaking glances whenever possible). Graves reoriented the two of you until you were against the wall, using himself to obscure the company’s view of you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” Graves muttered absentmindedly. He sounded more grounded, but he still needed to catch up on his breath, chest heaving in and out.

“It was a damn clean mission, Graves.”

“I ain’t talkin’ about the mission.”

Graves gives you his signature cocky smirk, waiting for a few moments for you to reply with your usual reassurance. But no thoughts were crossing your mind, instead it was aimlessly swimming in his attention. His arms that latched onto you were getting stronger, fingers tightening and burrowing into the narrow space between your tactical gear and shirt. His pupils were blown out, puppy-like as they searched you. But you couldn’t reply, not when you were drinking him in like he was to you. Your silence started to become overwhelming, crashing against Graves’ confidence and his smile fell, bravado collapsing with it.

“No good?” He faltered, letting his head hang low. He let out a quiet curse under his breath. “You put up with a lot of Shadow bullshit, both from them and me… I got lost in the moment.”

His attention turns to his hands that are on your arms. The pads of his thumbs rub your shirt fabric soothingly before dropping his hands to his sides. He gives you one final reassuring pat on the back, half-hearted and lacking its usual strength.

“I misread us,” he pursed his lips as he reflected, eventually shaking his head and tutting his lips disapprovingly at himself. “This is on me.”

“What?” You force yourself out of your stupor upon noticing Graves’ dejected form. You hurriedly try to pick him up, now you were the one putting your hands on his shoulders. “No, I just- I didn’t expect it. It was a surprise.”

“… you like surprises?” He looked up at you through his lashes, eyes brimming full of hope. You sometimes forget he’s your superior when he dials up his boyish charm.

“If they’re all like that then yes.”

“Then there’s plenty more where that came from, darlin'.”

His smug grin was back in full force, he only allowed himself a split second to memorise your shocked expression before turning away so you couldn’t respond. He rouses the rest of the Shadows up with an authoritative clear of the throat. He stands tall, back to the restrained commander role but not without a hand sneaking up to settle on the small of your back. Even as he assumed his professional role once again, the zeal in his voice was unmatched.

“Excellent work all ‘round boys. Let’s bring this aircraft back home.”

There were affirmative responses all round, but a curious Shadow couldn’t help but poke their head out of their station.

“So, uh, Graves. Are you and Chief a thing now?”

“Speak outta line like that again and you’re on cleanin’ duty for the next month, Sergeant.”

“… yup-yup.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #cod x gn!reader #cod x you #call of duty x reader #cod fluff #phillip graves #phillip graves x you #phillip graves x reader #philip graves x reader #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #/*avery actually writes*/

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heyidkyay · 1 month

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Pause it, play it, pause it, play it | Market girl AU

Matty x marketseller!reader

Summary: Saturday's are always the same working the stall, until a stranger stops in to disrupt your cassette display...

Authors note: A one shot for you, needed something to help me with a little writer's block so I hope it's alright! Nothing too detailed, mostly just fluff, just saw that middle picture and the idea took root:)

“Oi, Rob… You see where I set those new slips I just had?” I called out loudly, riffling my way through the boxes I’d brought over from the van that very same morning. “I swear I left them here in one of these lot.”

Rob seemed to shuffle over towards me at the beckon, peering around the tent whilst I pulled apart one box’s contents.

I huffed when I heard a familiar crunch and looked over my shoulder to see him stood there munching on an apple. “Nah, babe. Sorry. I can ‘ave a look though if you want, got Nance watchin’ out for me.” ‘Nance’ being Nancy, Rob’s massive Alsatian that had once been his grandad’s guard-dog when he’d manned the stall years back.

With a soft chuckle I pushed myself up onto my feet once more, tucking my hair behind my ears as I went.

“Have at, can’t for the life of me find them.” I told him, watching on in growing amusement as he bit down on the green fruit to hold it between his teeth whilst he mooched about the pyramid of cardboard boxes for me, “Sure you’ll still have enough left to sell? Last Saturday you ate your way through six of those, the one before that was the highest yet, at eight.”

Huffing, Rob took another bite of his apple and then shot me a wink. “Keepin’ an eye on me, are you?”

I rolled my eyes as a breathy laugh escaped me, falling against the stall’s main bench so that I could cross my arms over my chest.

A quick glance at the time told me that we still had a while yet ‘til it hit nine and the market opened properly, letting that first bit of crowd sail in. Though I’d always found it was easier most days to just enjoy the atmosphere that was Portobello, instead of focusing in on the imminent mob.

See, I’d been at the market since I were nine, working the vintage stretch with my mum and aunt, having grown all too fond of the people and their many eccentricities. Rob was of the same cloth, though a tad bit older, just enough that I’d had the fattest crush on him and that East London accent of his as a kid.

It had faded over time, mind, what with him jetting off a couple years back when he’d been a holiday rep in Ibiza and me realising that I’d wanted to try my luck at art school. Not that either of those things had worked out, which had ultimately led us back here, surprised not to be rid of the other.

He was as close as I could get to a best mate though. Strange yeah, but he was family, wasn’t he? Everyone who worked the market was.

“With an arse like that? Always.” I retorted easily enough to have him laughing along with me and shaking his head at my antics. Something he’d grown all too used to in the recent years since I’d come back and made my mark with a stall of my own.

It wasn’t anything too grand, my stall. Nothing like the tourist trapping shops that sat a little further down, but sweet enough for the likes of me and the massive music collection I managed to drag down here each weekend. Set up was always mad, yes, but with Rob, Nancy and a few other early starters, time slipped away quick enough.

“Here we go then.”

I blinked and looked back over at Rob, who was now beaming brightly at the set of LP slips I’d ordered in special, waving them about in smarmy pride. I swatted his side as I made a grab for the things, only to have him lift them up higher to where I couldn’t reach.

“Don't be a twat, pass them over. We open in five!”

Rob simply chuckled in retort, taking another chomp out of that apple of his. “A thanks wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Yeah, yeah, I would’ve gotten to it!” I swiftly shot back, jumping up to swipe them from his grasp and grinning in triumph when I managed it. He only laughed, a slight rasp working its way into it like it typically did. “Thanks.” I added after I’d thumbed through the lot, smiling up at him as he made his way to the other side of the tent.

“Buy me a pint and we’ll call it even, treacle.”

I gave him a roll of my eyes, but agreed without much fuss. “Fine, but just the one, tight arse.”

His hearty chuckle filled the steadily growing street of sellers and I watched on as he stroked Nancy’s collar before settling back in at his own stall which resided by mine.

“Penny’s take care of the pounds, my darlin’.”

I raised a single brow and tucked the slips into one of the closer vinyl cubbies- 70’s Proto-punk wasn’t much of a seller anyway. “You mean, look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves.”

Rob clucked his tongue, waving the correction away with the hand that held his apple core, “Alright, smart-arse. You knew what I meant.”

I smirked, tittering quietly to myself whilst he settled his usual bum bag around his hips. It suited him, I thought, the neon green pouch sitting atop that awful red and white apron he’d pinched off the butchers up in Notting Hill when he’d worked there for a weekend. Though I much preferred my own, my nephew having decked it out in all sorts of pins and patches for me a while back now.

With that Rob and I settled into our own stations, me taking perch on the old wooden stool I’d found in the back of a garden shed, and Rob being his usual loudmouth self, beckoning the arriving customers on closer.

The crowd grew bigger and bigger the closer it got to ten, lots of people stopped by to have a chat or a look round, a few purchased a couple of bits. It was mainly just the vinyls that sold these days, but I still had posters, cd’s, and even cassettes on show.

It wasn’t usual for the cassettes to get a good look over though, mainly just a ‘Oh! Do you remember them?’ and then a small laugh before people eventually moved on. Which was why I was more than a little surprised to see a figure having a right old rummage through the steady collection I owned, once I’d managed to wrap up another sale.

Glancing about, I spotted a pair of old birds flirting with Rob by the pears, Nance having gone to settle herself down by my bag in the back to hide from their gentle clucking, and how the crowded mob had thinned out a tad since most people had made their way further down the road’s neck.

I tucked the few notes I held into my pouch and stepped over a tangle of cables to make my way closer to the person, taking in their too big graphic tee and the tight zip up that had been layered over top of it. The nearer I grew the more I spotted though, the slight nod of a head as fingers worked their way deftly through the collection, the array of dark curls that poked their way out of the sides of a worn cap, and then the tiny hoop which dangled from a right earlobe.

“Looking for something specific?”

The bloke didn’t startle much, there was no real jump at the sound of my voice, only the slight tilt of his head, as though he was used to being caught off guard. I watched him closer after that, noting how his thumb trailed across one of the few Sonic Youth singles I had.

“Their ‘86 album?”

His voice was gentler than I’d first been expecting, rasped with a slight accent I couldn’t quite place. I blinked at his ask, skimming through the catalogue of tapes my mind offered me, which hardly ever seemed to move from their typical place of sorting.

“Um, top right? Should be one there, got Sister and Goo too, if I’m not wrong. Though the ‘88 album seems to be their most popular- even in cassette form.” I had rambled a tad there, I knew that much, but it was all part of the job to me. Talk and talk until they either fled the scene or decided to buy more than what they’d first come for. “You into cassettes then?”

He gave me a low chuckle and pulled away from the stand slightly, it was then that I caught sight of his face, a tad bit stubbled and lips parted almost in wait. He must’ve been closer to Rob’s age than my own.

I raised a brow when he didn’t offer me an answer, tilting my head in turn. “Or, is it a gift of some sort?” I dragged out.

With a blink, he seemed to stand a little taller and I noticed he only had an inch or two on me.

“Er, no.” He muttered, before mimicking my head’s movement and propping his elbow up on the cassette stand almost as if he was attempting to suss me out. It took a second before he finally flashed me a slow but genuine smile, “Looking for a certain sound. Some tapes sound better than the actual record so I figured here would be my best bet.”

I hummed, crossing one ankle over the other. “The further back you go you can hear it, but most of their stuff's good either way.”

He smirked as he settled in further, looking out at me from under the brim of his cap, “Aren’t you meant to be selling it to me?”

My laughter couldn’t have been helped because he did have a point there, only… “It’s just not everyday that someone pops by to talk about music mediums with me.” I argued, all too pleased when I heard him give another hearty chuckle in reply, “So forgive me for my excitement.”

“Will do.” He simpered, eyes flicking down to where he still held the Evol tape, I reached out to tap its plastic top.

“That one’s known for its ballads, if that’s something you’re into, but,” I practically sang before peering round him to see if I could find the one cassette case I was thinking of, “If you’re wanting a specific sound then A Thousand Leaves is probably worth giving a listen to. Personally I don’t think it got the recognition it deserved, but there was a lot of experimenting whilst also managing not to betray their roots, you know? It’s softer, smoother, and the guitars are almost unmatched.”

When I went to hand it over to him just to have a look at, I found him already watching me with this inscrutable sort of expression. I merely brushed it off, figuring that he’d just leave if he did eventually grow tired of my ranting, then turned slightly when a round of whispers echoed around the tent. It seemed a few younger girls had wandered straight on over to the independent artists section I had placed by the front and were arguing over who got this one Sam Fender album.

I looked away and went to say something else to him, but the way he'd simultaneously moved to angle his back away from the cassette tapes when he too spotted the new arrivals wasn't lost on me. I frowned a tad, though chose not to comment on it. “So, what sort of sound are you searching for anyway?”

His gaze skittered away from the tapes to meet mine for a second and I wondered, briefly, why he’d so suddenly lost the relaxed stance he’d been in just minutes before, but then he said, “Anything I haven’t heard much of before, in truth.”

Mulling his words over I then gestured towards the stand. “Can I?” I gestured, and immediately he knew where I was going with it, jumping back a step to let me riffle through the lot.

I pulled out a couple I figured he might be into, simply going off of the Sonic Youth album he’d been eyeing, then a few of my own favourites, not that I’d let that tidbit slip.

Handing them over, I let him search through their titles and answered one or two questions he had for me. I had to admit he intrigued me a bit, I’d had music enthusiasts stop by and talk about this and that with me, even had a couple people who played and were searching for new stuff to learn and adapt, but him? He didn’t give much away.

“Any good?” I questioned once I'd wandered back over to join him. I��d only left him to look through the selection again when a customer had called me over towards the front, and was just tucking away the few extra coins I’d been given when he glanced up at me with a bright grin. I was a little surprised to say it caught me off balance a bit.

“I’ll take the lot.”

Trying my hardest not to outright baulk, I paused. “The lot?”

Sure, cassettes weren’t all that pricey, not compared to pressed records at least, but there must’ve been just over a dozen that I’d pulled out to show him and now he supposedly wanted to take them all.

He laughed after a moment, most likely at the baffled look that marred my face, and made to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. “That gonna be a problem?”

The question was almost argumentative, pushy even, but in a jokey sort of way, the kind you’d use when ribbing a mate, not now. Not with some stranger at a market stall. It only left me marvelling further.

“Might be, I’ll have to find a bag big enough to fit them all though.” I countered, hiding my own smile when I heard him laugh again whilst I spun around to fetch exactly that.

“Anything will do, love.”

I dipped my chin in a slight nod but didn’t go right for the usual stack of black baggies I used for most sales, instead I swiped one of the few printed totes I had hung up for trade and tallied up the price. “You gonna be alright walking the rest of the market stretch with that?” I teased him, looking up once the transaction completed to hand him the now very full bag only to find him already looking back at me.

He hummed around a sly smile, fingers meeting mine around the totes handle before they were slipping away again. “Think I’ll make do. Only came looking for these anyway.”

My brows jumped up in surprise as I watched him tuck his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans. “Everyone loves Portobello.” I murmured and his light laughter echoed around the market stall once more before he simply shrugged.

“Been a couple times before, and besides, don't reckon I’ll get a better deal than this, do you?”

My eyes narrowed when I smiled, humoured by his easy going nature and quick quips. I found that I wanted him to stick around a while longer, if only to solve the mystery he made. “No, don't reckon so.”

He lingered for a moment or two more, simply smiling at me and I found myself smiling back, before a gaggle of school kids wandered on over, loud and uncaring of the looks they garnered. They caught my attention too and I found myself reminiscing over years where I’d been much of the same.

When I glanced back over to him, I saw that he was gone. My forehead pinched in confusion and I glanced around to see if I could spot him in the busy crowd, but it had grown all too quickly again and appeared easy enough for anyone to get swept up and lost in.

I rocked back on my heels as I gave up the search, just before I was called over by one of the kids asking for a specific LP. I let it go, him and the strange encounter we’d shared, and went about the rest of the day just going through the motions.

By the time seven o’clock rolled around I was shattered and had already packed most of the stall away. I waited patiently for Rob to help me with loading the larger bits into the van, watching Nance for him whilst he wrapped up what remained of the fruit and veg, knowing he’d take most of it back home to his family. It was at that moment that I caught sight of something amiss in the vinyl cubby I’d used to hide those slipcovers in just before we'd opened.

I walked over and was more than a little dumbfounded to spot a cassette lying there on its side. Standing On A Beach. One of The Cure albums I’d mentioned to that bloke in the cap earlier, the very same he’d gone and bought, and the exact one I was more than sure I’d bagged.

I picked it up, feeling Nancy brush up against my side whilst Rob called out to say that he was just dropping off his usual round of goodybags to the nearby sellers. I waved him off, then looked down at the tape I held, pausing when my thumb caught on something attached to the back.

Flipping it over I found a quickly scribbled note, its corner tucked into the case's opening so that it would hold its place.

(It sounded like you enjoyed this one when I asked about it. Know it’s a first edition too, so I figured maybe you should be the one keep it. - Matty.)

Matty.

“What you smiling at, weirdo?”

I startled at the sound of Rob’s usual drawl, head snapping over to my left to find him already trailing back towards us, a happy grin plastered over his face.

“Go on, tell us!” He ribbed, and now that he was drawing nearer I was quick to tuck the note into my back pocket.

“Nothing, just this tape. Figured I’d keep it.” I told him with a small shrug, clutching the cassette closer when he hip checked me in passing and bent down to give Nancy a good old stroke.

“Thieving your own gear! Wow, that’s a new low even for you.” Rob chuckled, shooting me a bright smile before he stood once more.

“Hush up, it’s a goodun. Forgot I even had it.” I defended, but he merely continued to laugh at me. Rolling my eyes, I shoved his arm lightly before I said, “Now be useful for once and grab the last of those boxes for us, will you.”

“Tetchy.”

I simply snorted, shaking my head as I moved to pick up my bag, clinging to the old cassette case for a second before finally dropping it inside.

“You coming then?”

With a deep breath I took one last glance around the stall and didn’t see anything that had been missed, so I wiped down my jeans and then gave Nance another pet, “Yeah, coming!”

…

My week continued on much the same after that. I worked in the local pub behind the bar when I wasn’t performing on the crate stage there and on my day off I took the tube over to see my mum and nan. They lived further East nowadays, closer to the clinic my nana hated but needed, and not too far from the street she’d grown up on as a girl.

Saturdays were my only market days, even though it was open most of the week. Rob usually did Fridays there and the rare Tuesday too, when he could be arsed. Though the rest of his time was used up by frequenting the old boxing club every other evening, training and helping out with the younger lot that liked to come in. I’d only been half a dozen times, but he was very much in his element there.

So in shorter terms, my week had slipped on by without much fanfare, which meant that Saturday had seemed to both crawl and shoot back around.

I opened the stall like usual, only without Rob for the first time in ages. He had apparently come down with some sort of bug or other that he’d gone and caught off of his nieces when he’d popped round to see them Wednesday afternoon- and well, he was a man, wasn't he? Which ultimately meant that he was dying.

He’d let me have Nancy though, seeing as she hadn’t been out very much since the cold had hit him. So the Alsatian had jumped in my van that same morning and had been as good as gold all day. To be honest, she was a much better seller than me and I could see why Rob always brought her along with him, people seemed to flock to dogs which in turn meant more sales for me.

I’d been fanning the crowds away ever since we’d opened, which typically only tended to happen during half term or school holidays, but nonetheless it was a more than welcome change after the crappy tips I’d garnered down at the pub the night before.

‘Cause well, since I’d dropped out of school I’d taken to performing there on the more livelier nights, a few covers, one or two of my own songs, and then I’d end the set and slide behind the bar to serve. Normally I was fine with that, the tips were often good when both the older folk and the younger lot rolled in, Friday nights especially. Only, there’d been a gig on down at the O2 so we hadn’t gotten our usual patrons in, and had instead been sacked with a couple of stragglers and a less than lively lot.

Still, today more than made up for it.

The sun was shining as much as it could do during a London March, the skies were blue although not completely clear, and the market crowd seemed to be in good spirits too.

Sy, who worked a couple stands down, had passed out a tray of coffees not too long ago, just after the lunchtime rush, and then Dianne and Reg had followed with some of their freshly baked pastries. They’d even thought to bring a little treat over for Nance too.

I'd just texted a picture to Rob to show him what he’d missed out on by having a case of man-flu and had just got up to toss the last of the rubbish away when I was caught off guard by an unexpected surprise.

“You!”

Matty, my mind supplied a half a second later. The same name that had been circling my thoughts since he’d left me that note the Saturday prior. I blinked at the sight of him. He was wearing a cap again, although this one was different, a dusky navy blue that he’d gone and tucked under a giant grey hoodie.

“Me.” He grinned in glinted amusement, jutting out his chin in a gentle hello. “Figured I might find you here.”

The snort I gave was unprecedented, “Oh, really? Wonder what gave that away.”

Matty smirked. Matty. It felt strange to put his name to his face then, even though it had been puttering around in my head like the bouncing DVD logo since the last time we’d met.

“Got any more tapes for me then?”

My eyes squinted in my attempt to dim my smile, not really believing that he was actually here, before I pursed my lips and tilted my head at him. “Might do. Take it you liked the last few?”

He hummed, smiling down at Nancy who’d trailed on over and allowing her to sniff at his hand. When she nudged his leg with her snout I watched on as he dropped into a crouch to give her a proper stroke. Nance seemed to be quite taken with him after that.

I propped a hip against the nearest vinyl cubby, crossing my arms over my chest whilst he replied, “They were good- helped a lot, in truth. You were right about the Roxy Music album, too.”

Chuffed with that, I shot him a pleased little grin.

“You’ll come to learn that it’s to be expected.”

“What, you bein’ right?” Matty wondered with a low laugh, petting Nancy’s head once more before he forced himself back up onto his feet.

“What I said, in’t it?”

He shook his head softly and I felt his eyes on me before I finally gestured him on over to the cassette stand. “I found a few new ones in the charity shop near my mum’s the other day, figured it’d be best to add to the collection after you nearly took the lot.”

“Wow, and she’s dramatic too.”

I swatted his arm thoughtlessly, then stilled the second I realised what I’d done, but Matty was either none the wiser to my momentary pause or just didn’t care. “That come with the job then? Having to be mouthy?”

My jaw dropped a tad at his sudden cheek and I tutted around the tiny beginnings of a stuttered laugh, “You’re brave. I’ll let you have that. But honestly, you’re probably not wrong there either.” We shared a chuckle, coming to a standstill by the tower full of tapes, “Most of this lot have to be gobby enough to have a shout at bagging any customers, especially when Rob’s around.”

“Rob?”

I titled my head over towards the next stall which sat empty, “Yeah, he works the fruit and veg. Might’ve seen, or rather heard him last weekend.”

Matty gave a slow nod, dragging his gaze away from where I’d pointed and back to the many cassettes I had to offer.

“So what're we looking for this time?” I smiled, thoughts on The Cure tape he’d gifted me, although wary to mention it too soon. “80’s Punk? Electro? Rhythm and Blues?” I dragged that last one out, enjoying the sight of his smile and how it only appeared to lift on one side before dimpling the corner ever so faintly.

“Give me one of your favourites.”

“Mine?” I blinked.

He hummed again, fingertips trailing over multiple rows of cases. I watched the movement, caught up in it in actuality, before I tore my eyes back over to him.

I caught him looking again, only this time around I didn’t much question it, not when the Saturday sun sitting high in the sky reflected so prettily in his eyes. Lightening them enough that they almost appeared to glow.

I followed through on the ask though, once I’d finally managed to get my head in working order and drag my gaze back towards the task at hand, pulling out an extensive range of cassettes, both singles and albums, for him to view.

Matty liked to talk, I quickly learned. He asked question after question, even when it seemed like he knew more than he was letting on at times, and he waited whenever someone else walked over, sitting amongst the back shelves with Nancy whilst I talked and sold a couple of vinyls.

Soon enough the sun had started to dip low in the sky and we realised that the hours had honestly escaped us. I was startled when I finally looked down at my phone to see that it was almost time to start packing away, having lost myself in the conversation we’d shared, or rather the debates we had both started over artists and genres, and what decade had done the most for music.

“Oh shit! I can’t believe it’s almost half six!”

Matty appeared to remember himself at my exclaim, pulling out his own phone to see for himself and blowing out a large breath when it rang true. “Fuck, ah, I didn’t even realise.”

He actually looked somewhat apologetic when he met my eye again.

I shook my head and waved him off, “You’re all good, actually one of the best market days I’ve had in truth, made almost double than what I did last weekend, even with the stash you claimed.”

With a soft laugh, Matty made to stand, holding out a hand to help me up too once he'd found his footing. I smiled softly at the offer and took it, perplexed by the careful callouses which lined the tops of his fingertips and the soft palm that accompanied them.

“You play?”

“Hm?”

My chin jerked over towards where an older acoustic hung on display in the stall across from mine, “Guitar. Do you play?”

His brows knitted together at the ask but he did eventually give me a low chuckle too, hand still holding my own. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

My eyes flickered up to find his and I gave a small smirk, unable to help myself. “Intuition.”

Matty scoffed in amusement, “Oh yeah? How’s that work?”

Shrugging a single shoulder, I stepped on closer to him, near enough that the brim of his hat shaded the top half of my face and the toes of our shoes almost aligned. “Just comes to me, I ‘spose.”

He quirked a questioning brow.

“What’s your intuition telling you now then?”

I bit down on the insides of my cheeks in hopes to contain my playful smile, figuring I’d best take the chance now while it was being handed to me. “That you’re gonna buy me a drink.”

“Am I?” Matty answered, voice dropping a fraction as a grin threatened to split his face.

Humming, I could only smile, eyes flickering between his own before they darted up towards the brim of his cap. With the hand not holding his, I reached up and settled it a little lower on his head, then glanced back down at that growing grin. “I mean, if you’re gonna keep coming back each Saturday then…”

His eyes narrowed a tad and finally he let go of the chuckle he’d been holding onto, leaning in even closer to me. “Intuition telling you that?”

“Hm, along with a couple other things.” I quipped, revelling in the hand that came to rest on the hem of my jeans. “So, that drink?”

Matty laughed, sweet and lovely. “Might know a place.”

“Good,” I murmured in the little space he’d placed between us, mouth almost touching his own before I was smirking and pulling away, “Guess you can help me pack up then.”

Matty huffed out a breathy chuckle whilst shook his head at me, watching as his hand slipped from mine. Though he wasn’t left lonely for too long, seeing as Nancy padded on over to him for another round of strokes whilst I set to picking up a horde of albums. “Tease.” He shot out, though he didn't look too disheartened.

I gave him a loud laugh in return, content with being labelled as such. “Well you’d best get to work then. Quicker we’re done here, quicker we can see about you and me sharing anything other than a drink.”

And he did, he set to work swift enough, the two of us slipping by one another with a gentle ease we shouldn’t have yet earned and sharing soft smiles in the lessening market bustle. All the while I continued to wonder and watch him, thinking back on the cassette he’d gifted me and the sudden fondness I’d found for him.

“Ready to go?” He asked me not long later and I found myself never wanting to say no to that pretty smile of his. So I just nodded and took the hand he held out, Nance moving to join us too before we finally ventured our way out of the market street. Matty asking me every question he’d been holding back the further we got, and making realise that I had a horde of my own.

#the 1975 #matty healy #x reader #fluff #flirting #humour #fic #writing #plot #matty #the 1975 band #y/n #matty healy fic #matty the 1975 #reader #oneshot #imagines #heyidkyay

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sailboatdreamer · 1 month

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Back to the Night We Met

Hello! I'm Arcadia (she/her) and this is my first fic <3 i loved the holdovers so much it actually drove me to writing especially because of the lack of Angus fics rn :) Ill definitely continue it if people are interested, i have a pretty good idea of where to take it, this is just setup.

-You are a female student from a sister school who has to board over at Barton for the holidays, Mary comes to pick you up, and you have a first impression of all the boys- 859 words - slight blood mention.-

Angus reminded me of many men i had known, in various ways, throughout my life. Cold at first, brash, defensive- but equally in need of a love that was not easily accessible.

The first time i had ever met Angus, it was Christmas of 1970. The corresponding sister-school to Barton, Ada’s School for Girls, had just let out all the girls for winter break, except of course myself, who was doomed to two weeks of almost complete solitude. My only recompense being the books in the library, and my carefully hidden ration of cigarettes given to me by a friend as a Christmas gift.

I’d assumed that my stay at Ada would be chaperoned by one of the sisters from the convent, as they lived on campus and were usually the go-to call for holdover students, however when it came time to say goodbye, an unfamiliar face was awaiting me outside the aching, old oak doors.

“Hello young lady, I believe you’re staying with us this time.” Boston accent.

A beautiful woman, with a soft spoken voice, stood up against a powder-blue Impala, cigarette between her fingers. I came to learn that this lady was Mary Lamb. She was a cook from Barton, who’d elected to stay over the holidays due to the untimely and tragic death of her young boy, Curtis, a student. In her words, she felt going home would’ve abandoned his memory during this time that meant so much to both of them. As she drove me to Barton she explained i’d be staying with the other male holdovers due to ‘administrative difficulties’ whatever that meant

Quickly sensing my discomfort with this idea she said “Listen, you let me know if those little shitheads give you a hard time okay? My quarters are just past the dorms, near the garden.” i nodded appreciatively, smiling at her choice of language. It was surprising to hear it from such a demure lady, but Mary’s streak of subtle rebellion ultimately made her one of my favourite people i ever got to know through my school years.

When we arrived to Barton, Mary directed me towards the infirmary, as it was the last room in the entire building that had any heating, as i approached the door there was a clear noise of a scuffle going on inside. I gently pressed the door open, beat-up suitcase in my hand, glasses pushed to my nose. Two of the older boys were hitting each-other wildly, although it really seemed more girlish than i assumed boys fought. The minute they saw me, they got up and hastily tried to straighten out their shirts.

“Who are you!? The fuck-a girl?” A blonde boy, blue eyes, very irritating.

A rally of small, meek, lower-year boys stood around the room, just watching. The other boy who i’d seen flinging punches on the blonde was seething, he had a little blood running down his cheek, and he didn’t really acknowledge me, he seemed too focused on whatever his next chance was to knock the blonde’s lights out.

“Hello…..” i wave shyly, putting my suitcase by a free bed.

”hi, hello,- um-hi” the room grumbles back at me.

The air in the room is thick, and tense. Worried, nervous glances are passed between myself and the rest of the room for what feels like endless minutes before someone breaks the silence. “Do…. do you need help with your bags.” a nervous mutter from the boy who’d previously not acknowledged my arrival. And i actually did. Some of my books i insisted on bringing, assuming i’d have a boring two weeks had been a weight on my luggage. “Yeah… yeah i’d appreciate that. Thank you.” He follows me out, leaving the other boys to debrief among themselves. As we wander down the long, aging halls, and the noise of the infirmary grows quieter, i try to break the tension. “so….I’m (y/n).. i go to Ada,and uh- our nuns, shacked up for the winter apparently so that’s why i’m here. I met Mary, she’s… she’s really sweet” As i speak he nods gently, listening before speaking. “I’m Angus. And that (he points back at the infirmary) was Teddy Koutnze. Resident dickhead. The other kids i don’t know so well, they’re first years but-… they’re not too bad.” It was my turn to listen this time, as we walk i study the features on his face. Strong, angular features and deep, brown eyes, nearly carvaggian. He helps me with my other bags, opting to take the heavier one for me kindly, but as he’s picking it up, i again notice the blood on the side of his face. Without a second thought, i reach out to touch it, as i would’ve for any of the girls back at Ada. “You’re bleeding….”

His hand immediately rushes to his cheek, and i notice as his cheeks flush red, i recognise my mistake and apologize hurriedly “Oh-sorry, i-uh…” i try to brush off the blood on my skirt, and i we struggle to meet eyes “its… its okay” He grumbles, not meeting my eyes, we both walk back awkwardly, i know my face is flushed and i internally curse myself for doing something so careless. We share in the silence and a little smeared blood on our fingertips.

#angus tully x reader #the holdovers #da'vine joy randolph #dominic sessa #the holdovers fic #mary lamb #Angus Tully #paul giamatti #alexander payne #Angus Tully Fic

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lolchicsa · 1 year

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Dirty, filthy fun

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, nsfw, p in v sex, unprotected sex, wall sex, ‘princess’ pet name, mask stays on, thigh fucking, fingering, slight orgasm denial

Part 2 of 2: smut! Part 1 here

No use of y/n

Loosely follows the events of the ‘Alone’ mission. Reader’s vacation was ruined by Shadow Company going on a genocidal rampage :( But fear not dear reader! Mr Ghost is here to make it better ;P

A/N: First time using Tumblr to post stories and using mobile to write this. First time writing smut so I’m taking inspiration from other authors.

A few weeks had passed by since I first met Ghost. Trust me when I say this, a lot has happened in those few weeks. In that time, I received a crash course to bring me up to speed. It include anything and everything I needed to know about the current situation I was in.

Ghost had met up with Soap that night, and we made it to a safe house outside of town. That’s how I met Rodolfo. He was kind enough to give me the comfortable bed for the first couple days. Soap had gone on a tangent seconds after introducing himself. The Shadow’s had betrayed them, took some of their men hostage and placed them in a heavily fortified prison.

The hatred these men have for Graves is understandable. One night, they left on a mission and I was asked to stay behind. So I was left alone at the safe house to wander. I didn’t mind feeling useless in that situation, I would’ve been a burden if I did go. The mission was successful, but now the house is overcrowded.

I stuck with Ghost the majority of the time. When he was around, that is. He didn’t seem bothered by my presence which encouraged me to stick around. We would make small talk with each other when no one else was around. Ghost doesn’t like to talk about his past… or anything significant to him. I had asked about the mask once… he ignored me when I asked so I didn’t push further.

Gaz and Price are part of the same task force as Ghost and Soap. At least that’s what I heard. Price was definitely a father figure to the rest of them. It was quite fun hanging out with all of them and hear them banter with each other.

Together, along with the Mexican Special forces, they successfully raided their previous base and took control again. Soap had to fight of a tank that Graves was driving. He does not shut up about that, whilst Ghost didn’t talk about the mission at all.

A party was held that night to celebrate the team’s success. Drinking and loud laughter was involved. Ghost had wandered off almost immediately to a more secluded part of the base. I followed of course, couldn’t leave the big man alone after such a day. He seemed surprised when I walked into his space that night. We decided to go on a walk outside and marvel at the beautiful sky over Las Alma’s.

Price had filled me in on their plan the next day and how they will get me back on American soil unharmed. They were heading to Chicago… presumably to kill someone. I hadn’t asked what the mission was about, to worried about leaving Ghost. We became close friends in the limited time we knew one another. It was weird, but I loved being in his presence.

“I’m going to miss you” Ghost and I took up a room in the base, far away from anyone else. I had dragged him here to talk and he was kind enough to oblige. Today was the last day before we moved out. I would miss Ghost the most, I hated the idea of never seeing him again.

“You’ll manage without me” came his gravely voice. It was deep, music to my ears and, with the accent, it made my knees weak. It was fair to say I gathered quite the attraction to Ghost in the limited time we’ve know each other. I would think of him at night, my hand between my legs and recall the night we met.

My fantasies were varied when it comes to Ghost. Dreaming of him fucking me against a wall was my favourite. I guess it had something to do with how we met, I could never forget the way he held me back then. Sometimes, I imagined riding him until we are both a moaning mess of sweat and pleasure. If I ever were to hear him moan, I swear I would go insane.

“I don’t think I can go back to living my life like before. Now that I’ve met you, I don’t want to leave your side. I… I like you… a lot.” My eyes dropped to stare at the floor, scared to see his reaction to my confession. Nervousness flooded my veins, I started picking at my nails to remain sane. I could feel my cheeks heat up with embarrassment, I could feel his stare.

My thoughts drifted back to the night we met. How he had me pinned to a wall faster then my mind could process his presence. I wanted it to happen again, just under different circumstances. What would he look like without his gear on? What would he feel like?

My back was pressed to the wall behind me, my breath hitched in anticipation. He was there, giving me exactly what I wanted. Our close proximity was euphoric, the feel of his breath on my face was all I could focus on. I closed my eyes, memorizing the feel of his body pressed against mine.

“Is this really what you want? For me to fuck you against this wall? Have you moaning out my name over and over again? I can do that for you princess. Tell me” he said, using his hand to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. Eyes flared with lust stared into mine, I felt trapped in the best way possible. He was like a beast, ready to rip me apart and fill me with pleasure.

“Yes… yes I want you to make me scream”

My voice was uneven, trembling with anticipation. Ghost, the beast of a man I have learned to adore, took in a long breath. Staring at me with hooded eyes, his hands landed on my waist first. The heat they brought with them was so delicious, I was getting addicted to it. I took hold of his hands and guided them beneath my shirt.

In seconds, he had my shirt off and his hands were slowly tracing the exposed skin of my waist. His touch was gentle, like he was memorizing the softness of my body. For someone who believes he can’t be soft, Ghost definitely fits the soft lover type… at least for now. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his adventurist hands, leading a way downwards. This softness of his is amazing, but my patience was running thin. I wanted his cock, balls deep in me now, fucking me against the wall like in my fantasy. I want to scream his name for the base to hear.

So I took matter’s in my own hands, shoving my pants down along with my drenched panties, bra following soon after. Ghost had backed away from me, heavy gaze drifting over my body. “Beautiful” escaped his lips before his eyes snapped back to mine. He held my gaze as he started to strip as well. “A little eager are we princess?” he teased, shirt discarded to the floor. A quiet chuckle followed his words, flowing through his mask. I wonder if he will let me see his face?

His warmth filled my personal space once more, his hard muscles pressed against my soft breasts. Our breaths mingled together, adding to the euphoria. My mind couldn’t believe this handsome man agreed to this. I could feel his arousal pressing against my stomach. Tall fucker, he is. Firm and muscular as well. Fuck… he’s perfect.

“Tell me what you want princess”

“I want you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow”

That’s all I had to say to make him go feral. He gripped my waist, forcing me into the wall. His head dipped to rest on my shoulder as he spread my legs apart with his knee. His still clothed knee, which was soaking up my arousal. I couldn’t help but grind against it, feeding my growing need. A sigh escaped my lips at the pleasure caused by such a simple action.

One of Ghost’s hands slipped from my waist, going for my sensitive clit. The small pressure he applied had me moaning loudly. My hips bucked against his hand, craving the friction. I could feel the drenched fabric under me. The feeling was exquisite and I never wanted it to end. My head tilted back against the wall as I closed my eyes, only focusing on the back and forth movement of my pussy against Ghost’s thigh while he played with my sensitive nub.

“Bloody hell, you’re so wet for me” he whispered in my ear, making a whimpering moan escape my lips. His grip on my waist stilled my attempts to breed with his leg. I let a whimper escape, un-pleased by the sudden loss of friction. Before I could utter a word, his fingers were at my entrance, pushing in and giving me another wave of pleasure.

“Fuck… Ghost…” I didn’t know what I was trying to say, just wanted him to keep going. A chuckle came from him while his fingers reached deeper. Wet sounds emitted from my hole, his fingers moving in and out at a slow pace. I became a moaning mess in seconds. He was skilled with his hands, that was for sure. A pressure started building in my stomach, thoughts going numb. His fingers picked up speed and hit a spot I didn’t know existed.

“Fuck yes! Yes! Ghost!” I couldn’t help but moan out his name from the pleasure he was giving me. His fingers drove in and out at an ungodly speed, fucking me closer to my orgasm. “So close! Fuck!” My legs turned to jelly, my arms flinging themselves around Ghost so I could hold on for dear life. I was close to heaven, so close… then he stopped.

It was like he knew I was about to go over the edge, touch nirvana and be filled with pleasure. I couldn’t believe it, what the fuck? My mind was still fussy when I realized what Ghost was up too. He had me firmly pressed against the wall, my legs still parted by force. But he also had his cock in his hand, using my juices to lube himself nicely.

I barely had time to admire his length before it disappeared from view. His dick was at my entrance in seconds, stretching me perfectly. A loud cry of his name left my throat while he slowly pushed in. He felt so good, filling my insides just right. It felt so right being held like this and fucked against a wall.

“Fuck, you’re tight princess” Ghost whispered, slightly out of breath. He started moving immediately after, slowly pushing in and out. We both groaned in unison, enjoying the shared pleasure each other gives. The feeling of Ghost between my legs had me clinging to him for dear life. My nails dug into his back, almost drawing blood.

A loud moan escaped Ghost, making a shiver run down my spine. The sound bounced off the walls as I memorized his beauty. His pace quickened as tears started forming in my eyes. The wall made it impossible to arch my back the way I wanted it too, but Ghost was already hitting that sweet spot without my help. My previously denied orgasm came back full force, pressure building once again.

“Fuck! Ghost… I’m gonna c…”

“Simon”

His voice cut through my sentence. I couldn’t quite make out what it meant. The rhythmic sway of his thrust started to fall apart. He was close too, I could feel it.

“My name is Simon, princess” He said between breaths, a moan following soon after. We were moments away from reaching our tipping points and I couldn’t be happier that he entrusted me with his real name. Simon, what a beautiful name.

“Simon!” A loud cry of euphoria soon follow the name of the man before me. It hit like a freight train, my body thoroughly enjoying the release he gave me. Simon soon followed me over the edge, coating my insides with thick ropes of his seed. In that moment, everything was perfect. I forgot about the last couple weeks, I forgot about the stress.

My body was numb, I would be on the ground if it weren’t for Ghost. We stood still, both trying to catch our breath’s before doing anything else. There was an unspoken truth shared between us, it was the best sex either of us had in a long time.

I would happily give my life away if it meant I could stay with Ghost and do this again.

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wishuroses · 1 year

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.⠀ ݁ ⸜⸜ 𓂃 𓇼 such a sure thing, aonung.

✶ pairings: aonung x sully!reader

✶ warnings: awkward attempt at fluff, apologizing, rivals to friends but there’s something more, reader takes the place of neteyam but is slightly more assertive and even more prone to violence, aonung is a simp in the making and reader is here for a good time not a hard time, uppercase intended!

✶ word count: 1k

✶ na’vi glossary: payoang – fish, skxawng – idiot.

✶ a/n: second fic on this profile! this is a little something i just had rotting in my notes app since like early february, it was more self indulgent at first but since i currently don’t have a single creative bone in my body i’ve decided to feed u guys with whatever this is while i try to rack up more ideas for future fics. happy reading! :-)

“What is going on here?”

You called out with a panicked lilt to your voice, the sand shifting beneath your feet and between your toes as you hurriedly marched towards the commotion.

You’d heard the stern yet desperate voice of your little sister, Kiri, yelling at someone– or maybe more than one– to ‘leave us alone’.

Your voice and Kiri’s did nothing to stop them, however, as the teens continued to poke and prod at your siblings as nothing but wicked laughter and unabashed insults left their mouths.

With a sharp exhale, you stomped up to Aonung and shoved him as hard as your strength could allow you to, which effectively caught him off guard. The braids that frame your face swayed from side to side dramatically, and almost comically so, beads audibly thudding against each other.

You thought about doing more than just shoving him, thinking that maybe full on linebacking him with the intent to injure would’ve definitely been more satisfactory in your taste, but you knew the numerous consequences that would swarm around your head like the annoying flies your father talked to you about.

Aonung stumbled back a few at the force of your push, resulting in everyone shifting their attention towards you. A look of surprise flashed across his face, but was replaced by a sly smirk as quick as it came, more arrogance emitting from him. Despite his nonchalant demeanor, his ears were tucked back against his head, as if he was embarrassed at getting shoved so hard and nearly falling on his ass. As he should be.

“Back off.. Now,” You stepped closer, digging a strong navy blue finger into his sternum. Both of your faces merely inches apart as your big amber eyes peered courageously back into his baby blue ones, stern gaze never once faltering. Such a shame, you thought, that such beautiful eyes belonged to someone so awful.

“And so help me Eywa, if I ever catch you–” You then turned to the rest of his gang, making sure to lock eyes with every single one of them, “or ANY of you lay a finger on my siblings ever again, you all will be down to 2 on each hand. Then we can discuss who the real freak is.” You say carefully, making sure each and every one of them heard your words.

“That is a promise.”

The irritated look in your eyes and the occasional flare of your nostrils assured him that you were dead serious, he had no doubt in his mind you were. The rough, accented edge to your voice made goosebumps rise from his skin. Aonung locked eyes with you once more, pupils dilating as you both gazed into each other’s eyes.

It was then that time seemed to melt between the both of you. A beautiful baby blue swimming in pools of striking amber.

If you weren’t huffing angrily with adrenaline running through your veins, you probably wouldn’t have missed the light dust of pink that bloomed upon his teal cheeks. After a beat of silence, Aonung relaxed and passively looked off to the side, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Good choice.”

.⠀ ݁ ⸜⸜ 𓂃 ✿̅

It was nearing eclipse, the pinks and oranges of the sunny horizon reflected back into your wide, yet tired eyes. You were laid snug on your stomach by the shore, the foam of the waves kissing your hands as the grains of sand stuck snug against your tummy. The only thing that filled your senses were the waves crashing against the sand, the soft singing wind, and the odd saltiness and humidity that filled the air– which was something you’d barely gotten used to. Nonetheless, it was still comforting.. in a sense.

That was, until, the hairs on the back of your neck stood. You felt a shift in the atmosphere, almost as if someone else were there with you. Cautiously, you peeled your eyes away from the ocean and looked to your right immediately, only to find Aonung standing a great distance from you, not too far yet not too close either.

But it was still a bit too close for your liking.

His questionable behavior gained a look of confusion from you, as you sat up from your previous position to sit on your haunches. “..Hello? What is it?” You say, concerned at his sudden arrival, yet irritated at your alone time being disturbed by some ocean-dwelling creep who couldn’t keep his comments to himself. “If you say some dumb shit to me Aonung I swear–” At the expense of your words, he shuffled closer to your hunched form, sitting beside you at a pace so slow you were so sure he thought you were going to lunge at him.

And honestly? You wouldn’t trust yourself not to.

Aonung was so close that his arm occasionally grazed yours, making goosebumps arise from your skin at the foreign yet oddly calming contact. To your surprise, it didn’t bother you one bit. In an attempt to distract yourself from the extremely awkward encounter, you tediously wiped off the sand that dug into your stomach and thighs.

“Sorry. I have come to.. apologize?”

His revelation earned him a look of surprise, your eyebrows shot up immediately and your back straightened along with them. Your beads thudded together in unison at how quick you looked at him. “Are you asking me, or are you telling me?” You quipped, almost not believing the words that were said to you.

“I am telling you, skxawng.” He shot back quickly, his eyes trailing from the waves to your big ones; the ones that stared back at him, the ones that held so much emotion– yet he couldn’t figure out what they were. With a sigh, he averted his attention, finding the dangly bits of his loincloth to be much more interesting. “I apologize for acting that way towards you and your siblings. I was confused over everything, the sudden arrival of your family, and–as the future Olo’eyktan–protective of my clan, but I had nowhere else to air my feelings. So I took them out.. on all of you... I am so sorry.”

His voice wavered a little at the end of his statement, alarming you a great amount as you’ve never heard him get to this point before. Whether it was from embarrassment or if he was genuinely about to start bawling, you didn’t have a clue.

After a beat of silence, you shuffled closer and placed a gentle four-fingered hand on his back– hoping that your small gesture spoke enough words so that you didn’t have to. You heard his breath hitch a bit, and you hoped you hadn’t crossed any boundaries and made him uncomfortable. That thought was quickly replaced when he hadn’t made any plans to move away or to slap your hand away from him.

With a sigh, you gave a stiff pat to his back, making him look back at you with an expression you couldn’t read even if you tried. The corners of your lips quirked upwards as you locked eyes with him, only to look back at the beautiful view in front of you both. He never looked away from you, though, tracing your delicate features with his eyes.

He wouldn’t admit it aloud–not yet at least– but he thought you were beautiful. Despite you not looking like the Metkayina he was so used to seeing, and barely even your own, you were still pretty in your own weird way.

You weren’t yet ready to forgive him completely, as insults like those were like stones to your heart; but you were sure that amends could be made, and that people can change for the greater good.

“You’re good, payoang..” Your tone was light and airy when you responded, resulting in something weird happening to his poor, poor heart. He’d never heard your voice in a tone as gentle as this, only hearing your rough shouts, sneers, and the occasional threatening.

Aonung chuckled softly at the odd nickname, yet welcomed it nonetheless. He can admit, it was fair game with how many times he’d call you weird names, but this one seemed a bit more intimate.. had a bit more weight to it. “We’re good... but actions speak louder than words. I need you to respect my brother and my sister.”

“If you disrespect them, you disrespect me.”

Aonung nodded so quick you thought he would get a severe case of whiplash. “Yes, yes, I understand.” He was starting to become hyperaware of his surroundings, the hand that was still placed on his back felt like searing hot coal, but he didn’t dare flinch away.

“You are so, so pretty when you don’t threaten my life.” He said breathlessly, as if he was genuinely in awe of you, your appearance, your everything. It caught you off guard, the sudden confession, but the corners of your mouth quivered upwards into a bashful smile as a soft chuckle bubbled from your throat.

You felt shy under his gaze all of a sudden, dipping your chin downwards to look away from him, to get away from those eyes that held such intense emotion.

“Skxawng.”

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pinguwrites · 6 months

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Kinktober 2023 | Day Twenty — Darren/Pig + vanilla, riding

Pairing -> sub!pig x dom!reader

KINKTOBER 2023 MLIST

Warnings: mild degradation, mention of masturbation, pig's sorta innocent, reader takes runt's place, reader's lowkey a little mean, very very mild dub-con (just in case 'cause they're bold with touching and not asking, but they both are into it), sorry for the shitty accent I tried, if it was really bad let me know and I'll try to make it better

Disclaimer: Disco Pigs characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Pig looked at you miserably, feeling a sense of shame wash over him like a cold bucket of water. He hadn’t expected you to hear him, hear his monologue of how he wanted to have sex with you. He should have kept it all in his head, or made sure you weren’t in your room. How was he supposed to know you were on your bed, listening through the hole in the wall?

“Well?” you snapped. “Whaddya have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry!” Pig cried, lower lip wobbling. “M’sorry, Runt! Jus’ wanna express myself.”

What if you decided you didn’t want to be friends anymore? What if you left him? Found him disgusting and dirty? What would he do if you were gone? You were his everything. He would do anything for you. How was he supposed to convince you to stay?

“You couldn’t jus’ tell me?” you said, sitting down on the bed beside him. When he looked away you grabbed his hair and forced him to face you. “You had to be all secret-like. How many times you’ve done this before? Tell me.”

“Few times,” he admitted, trying not to stare at your lips. “Can’t stop thinking about it—me and you, Pig an’ Runt, moaning an’ touch, with my hand ‘round my cock—”

“Touching yourself, Pig?” you asked, a little surprised, but delighted nonetheless.

If possible, Pig looked even more miserable. “Yes, ma’am.”

You almost wanted to laugh. Pig only called you “ma’am” when he thought you were mad at him, which, to be fair, you were making it seem like you were. It was just so fun teasing him, the poor little thing. You couldn’t resist.

“Show me,” you demanded, looking down at the area between his legs. “I wanna see your cock.”

With no questions, he immediately unzipped his pants and pulled it out. It was thick and white, soft at the moment, but you could see it growing hard in his hands. You touched it, without asking for permission—he would’ve let you, anyways—and tugged on it, making him whimper.

“Ah, be nice, won’t ya’? Please, Runt.”

“Am being nice. Wanna see me, too?”

Pig’s eyes widened with excitement. “Yes, yes.” His hands went to your skirt and he pulled it up, shoving your panties down so quickly and smoothly you were sure he’d thought about doing this before.

He bent over and took a whiff, then pressed his finger through your folds. “Smell good,” he commented. “Feel good, too. Little hole.” He wiggled his finger right above your entrance, but you pushed him away, making him frown. “Still mad? No, don’t be mad. Said sorry, yeah? Said sorry and you feel okay now. Right?”

He tried to push back inside but you pushed him away again, and this time, to make clear he got the message, tugged on his cock again. “Just wanna put my finger inside Runt’s hole! You up an’ teasin’ me . . .”

He pulled away completely, accepting your decision. He didn’t dare go against you a third time, not when he was so vulnerable in front of you, so embarrassed, with tears wetting his eyes.

“Crying now?” you laughed, not bothering to keep it in this time.

“Too much,” he whined. His cock was now fully hard, with some liquid leaking out the top.

You shoved him down on the bed, making it slap against his stomach. He waited to see what you were going to do, almost worried, but then you sank his tip into your pussy, and he moaned, lips spread wide in happiness.

“Yes! S’nice. Warm,” he choked. “Need’a see Runt’s tits.”

He groped your chest, feeling for your tits. You didn’t stop him. You were enjoying his touch, and was far too focused on easing the pain you felt as you sunk yourself deeper onto his cock.

Eventually, the stinging feeling subsided, and you started moving, slowly and sensually, with your hands on his body, eyes fluttered shut in pleasure.

“Should’a done this sooner, Pig,” you said. “Could’a felt ya’ inside me, all big an’ hard.”

He nodded, dazed.

You rode him, without a care in the world that his mom could walk into his room at any moment, without caring that the bedroom window was cracked open with the lamp inside turned on. All there was was him and you—Pig an’ Runt, the way it was meant to be.

Taglist:

@rainyforest777

@thatwitchybitch420

@madeinuk

@gentyleman

@meetmeatyourworst

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

#darren pig x reader #darren pig x you #darren pig x y/n #disco pigs #darren pig #cillian murphy #fanfiction #pinguwrites #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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klausysworld · 1 year

Note

Hey could you do a smut klaus x blackreader the reader is marcels sister visiting him but klaus doesn’t know that reader is marcels sister so klaus and reader hookup and when marcel finds out he flips out?

Shit. Marcel.

i was lead across a sofa waiting in one of the living rooms in the compound like my brother had requested when someone stormed in. I knew immediately who this once, Marcel had warned me plenty. I looked him over noticing his lean body, you could still make out his muscles through his slightly too tight henley, it clung to him perfectly. His arms were crossed over his chest, he was giving a dominant stance, he was in a bad mood, that was clear. The fabrics of his clothing were obviously to the best quality, it looked soft to touch. I glanced down at his jeans, the dark material must have been new on, they didn’t look worn at all. His leather boots also looked untouched, vampire or not i still wear the same clothes pretty frequently, how many outfits did he have?

A throat cleared and i looked back to his face, stubble ran across his jaw, only really noticeable when close up. His lips were perfect, a lovely shade of pink, maybe a tint of red? They’re full and look so soft. His nose had a slight curve to it but i could tell his side profile would still be highly attractive. The apples of his cheeks fit his face well, maybe he’d have dimples? I met his pale blue eyes though they seemed to somewhat darken as i studied them, the smallest traces of green danced within them, turquoise maybe? One brown raised and only then did i realise he had said something, his lips now pulled into a smirk, a very very distracting smirk.

“i know that i’m a nice view love but i don’t enjoy repeating myself” his accent was stronger than i had imagined, then again i also sort of pictured him to be more bulky, hard features and dark hair for some reason, maybe to suit his oh so dangerous reputation.

“uhuh well could you just this once, i wasn’t listening” i smiled sheepishly as i turned over to lay on my stomach facing the man over the edge of the chair, i wetted my lips and adjusted my hair.

“yes that much was obvious, i asked who you were” he looked annoyed but somehow adorable at the same time, i’m not sure if his lips were purposely in a slight pout or naturally. His foot tapped slightly gaining my attention and he look thoroughly amused

“y/n” i stated simply looking to his hair. He used top quality conditioner for sure. His curls were natural and went well with his his face.

“right well y/n could you tell me why you’re in my house?” i made a long ‘mmm’ sound before pursing my lips thinking it over. If he knows i’m marcels sister he’ll probably get all cocky. If he thinks i don’t know much then he’ll be a little more chill.

“I’m one of Marcels vampires” i decided to go with an easy option

“i haven’t seen you before” great he’s just as paranoid as my brother said.

“well there’s a lot of us so i’m not surprised” i muttered rolling my eyes

“yes but i think i would remember you, i wouldn’t forget a face like that” ah smooth. I let out a laugh at that which had both his eyebrows rising as he watched me push a hand to my mouth

“really? why’s that? am i just that beautiful? am i like an angel that dropped from heaven” sarcasm dripped from my voice as i giggled through it. If Marcel were here he would’ve been on the floor, this guys 1000 years old and you can just tell he’s going to be cheesy. I glanced up at him to see a more genuine smile on his face as he watched me calm down

“well i would have argued you were very beautiful but now i’m not so sure you need the flattery” he mused walking closer and sitting on the arm of the chair i was on, i decided to stretch my arms over his legs before turning round to lay on my back, i leant back using his thigh like a pillow

“well what can i say? perhaps i’m just a vain person, look we already have something in common” i clapped enthusiastically until his hand came down a grabbed both of mine keeping them together. I couldn’t help the little wave of excitement it gave me seeing his hand move to grip my wrists, his hands were much bigger than mine, i followed the veins from them up to his forearm, his sleeves were slightly pushed up allowing me go see his strong arms. I groaned at the idea’s running through my head and i heard a him chuckle lowly

“you’re either a new vampire who can’t control their lust or just haven’t been satisfied for far to long” he squeezed my wrists with one hand and pulled them up over my head, my arms now over his thighs as-well.

“maybe i’m just bored” i muttered watching his other hand move to touch my torso. I was wearing a tight top, it was cropped too allowing his fingers to feel my rich skin. I could feel my panties dampen under my shorts and i shifted a little to become more comfortable

“well it just so happens i have nothing to do, perhaps you and i can help each other” he murmured putting his hands under my tank top, my bra was strapless and so he easily pulled it from my body making me gasp. The pads of his fingers lightly stroked across my nipples and i arched up to meet his hand

“i’m meant to be waiting for Marcel” i muttered trying to remind myself that if my brother walked in i would be very much dead and so would Klaus

“what could he have that you want?” he questioned with a pinch and i moaned softly

“oh fuck it” i huffed vamp speeding him flat on his back on the sofa straddling his waist. I leant down and forcefully kissed his sultry lips, it was a kiss of raw need, lust, desire whatever you want to call it. It was rushed and sloppy. A fight for dominance with our tongues which i eventually gave into and was immediately flipped back around, his crotch rubbed against mine as i pulled his head closer, my hands were now in his fluffy hair tugging harshly making him grunt into my mouth. His hands gripped my hips in a bruising manner, i wrapped my legs around his hips pulling him as close as possible. His chest touched mine as we parted, both panting heavy breaths and i lifted the henley over his head throwing it to the floor before reaching down to his jeans. He quickly kicked them off before dragging my shorts down, he didn’t waste a second before removing my underwear as-well. I groaned as the cool air hit me

“so wet for someone you just met” he muttered leaving open mouth kisses down my body. My top was the only thing i still had on but he let wet patches on the fabric where his mouth was anyway. I spread my legs wider as he sucked along my thighs, i sighed bringing my hand down to run my fingers through his hair making him look up at me. I didn’t look away for a second as his tongue licked a strip all the way up my pussy, i gaped slightly as he pushed his mouth against me, sucking at me like i was his last meal, i forced my eyes open to keep on his.

“fuck you’re good” i laughed breathily as my nails scratched his scalp lightly, he groaned and plunged his tongue deeper inside me, curling it and just touching my spot, i pulling his locks closer getting him to hit the spot better, i moaned out lowly while watching him. His eyes went back to my core and he let his nose brush my clit, i gasped at the shot of ecstasy running to my lower stomach.

“we don’t have time for this” i mumbled mostly to myself than him and reluctantly pushed him away. The confused look on his face was priceless as i moved to sit up

“what are you doing?” he questioned seemingly offended

“i don’t have much time, i’d rather your cock than your mouth right now” i muttered crawling towards him and claiming his lips with mine once again to keep him quiet…and maybe because i just liked his lips. I pulled away sooner than last time and moved my hands to feel his pants. He was very much ready, and very well endowed, i’m not sure why i was so surprised but i definitely wasn’t disappointed.

“aw so hard for someone you just met” i quoted him mockingly and his jaw clenched

“you’re the one who couldn’t keep your eyes off me, you were desperate before i even walked in” he definitely doesn’t like being embarrassed, his cheeks were turning a shade of pink as he spitted his words back at me

“says the man who immediately went to touch my tits, you want me to stop Klaus?” i whispered as i pulled him from his boxers and stoked him slowly. His hips jerked slightly as i brushed his tip with my thumb before he grabbed my wrist with a growl

“i think you’re overestimating your power sweetheart” he murmured shoving me onto my back, both wrists were pinned above my head tightly as he gripped himself in his hand. He paused for a second and glanced at me, he was asking me? i gave him a little nod and with that he pushed inside me, i moaned out feeling his size stretch me, my eyes closing as my back arched to him

“struggling to adjust are we love? is my cock too big for your tight little pussy?” i groaned at his words while he fully seated himself inside me

“you’re accent is far too pretty to say such dirty words” i laughed as i squeezed around him a few times waiting for the discomfort to pass.

“what would you prefer i say?” he asked sounding shocked at my honesty

“i’d prefer you just fucked me” i whispered with a roll of my hips gasping as he slid out a little before back in as my hot walls swallowed him again this time only pleasure coursing through me. He began moving his hips to mine slower than i expected him too, it allowed me to feel every vein of his thickness as his hard dick caressed my walls making me groan deeply.

I opened my eyes to see his shut tightly, his lips parted as soft breaths escaped them, he looked peaceful sort of. Content maybe. His hand’s grip went slack against my wrists letting me reach my hands out to touch his angelic face. My thumbs stroked his lips lightly and he picked up his pace, i sucked in a breath as he got deeper inside me, a familiar knot twisting inside. I wrapped my legs higher up his body getting him to hit just right as he now pounded into me harshly, brows furrowed and his breathing now a pant. I quietly moaned his name as his tip seemed to rub my spot at a supernatural speed.

I moved my hand down between our bodies and let my index figure touch my throbbing clit making me whimper louder than anticipated. His eyes opened slowly, looking down to my hand before he guided away from myself and rubbing my stomach lightly

“sorry love” he muttered before having his own fingers circle my sensitive nub having me moan his name much louder. The combination of his hips snapping to mine, cock slamming into me and his warm fingers playing with me perfectly in time had my legs shaking slightly, back arched so much my breasts brushed against his chest bringing that extra sensation that had the knot inside screaming to come undone. I gripped onto his back feeling his shoulder blades flex beneath my fingers as i applied pressure with my nails. He twitched inside me while i clutched him tightly, my head fell back presenting him with my smooth bronze neck. I heard him groan as his lips pressed to my skin, my throat tingles where he touched, my clit pulsed faster and my walls tightened drastically

“can i bite you sweetheart?” he whispered letting his teeth graze my neck

“as long as it isn’t with your werewolf venom then yeah” i whispered back impossibly quietly but he still heard me

“i don’t think i would ever want to harm someone as heavenly as you” i breathed another laugh at that.

His teeth sunk into my flesh, the feeling utterly euphoric as my walls squeezed once more tightly as i came with a cry, he groaned against my throat, his hips stuttering before coming to a halt as he released thick ropes of himself inside of me, the full feeling making me moan loudly once again while his fingers slowed on my swollen clit before pulling away.

His face left my neck for a second before he brought his tongue back to swipe across the healing wounds

“so gorgeous” he muttered grabbing my jaw and kissing me once again, his tongue already dancing with mine as i tasted my own blood and pulled him closer.

The sound of my ringtone caused me to pull away making him groan as i reached out to grab my phone

shit. Marcel.

my eyes widened and i sat up way too fast, forgetting he was still inside me, i whimpered quietly as i pulled myself off of him. He sat watching blankly as i quickly got redressed holding the ringing phone

“hey uh, i’ll see you around yeah? okay. Thanks for keeping me busy, you were great” i kissed his lips quickly before stumbling out the room and answering the call.

———————————————————————

I had been staying in my own apartment while visiting my brother, we had learnt from past experiences that when we live under the same roof we just bicker and get pissed off. We love each other but that doesn’t mean we have to do everything together.

I hadn’t seen Klaus since, probably better off, he had a werewolf who was pregnant with his child and a blond psychiatrist who were probably swooning for him. He was a busy guy, if didn’t even think about him…that much, i didn’t think about him that much.

———————————————————————

Marcel and i had just been out for lunch, we were catching up on everything that had happened the past few years and how he felt about the whole originals situation. I had decided to walk him back to the compound as we were halfway through our conversation when we left the café and my apartment wasn’t far from him.

I came in for 20 minutes or so as nobody else was in, he showed me the changes to the interior he had done since my last visit and i met some of the new vampires.

Just as i was walking out of the door i walked straight into something hard. I swear i opened the door.

i looked up to see Klaus. ah shit.

he looked surprised and quickly wrapped his arms around me making me panic slightly knowing Marcel was just behind me

“wouldn’t want you running off again would we love?” he whispered pulling me flush against him

Suddenly Klaus was shoved off of me and Marcel had me behind him

“what do you mean again? don’t you touch her” he warned as Klaus went to step closer to me. I bit my lip nervously and grabbed Marcels hand

“we met- the other day and i left pretty quick is all” i smiled innocently and Marcel studied me closely before his eyes widened and he stepped back

“tell me you did not sleep with Klaus Mikaelson” i blinked at him, the second i opened my mouth he began talking again

“oh this! this! is fucking fantastic! I mean really you know that this is the wrong time to do something like this! wars are happening everywhere and you thought that was a good idea” he gestured towards Klaus aggressively and i shrugged my shoulders

“we actually only really covered the situation today and i fucked him the first day i was here soo…” Marcel brought both hands to run down his face as he sighed loudly

“neither of you ever, ever speak to each other again, that will never repeat, am i clear y/n” he was staring straight into my soul

“i dunno at this point i might just do it again to piss you off” i shrugged and glanced at an extremely confused Klaus, who was a combination of amused, slightly nervous and just lost

“you dare.” he whispered quietly as he pushed me out the compound quickly as i laughed. The door slammed behind me and immediately i heard yelling, objects shattered and the smell of blood. Fuck.

I vamp sped back inside and dragged Marcel off of a bloody Klaus

“would you just calm the fuck down for like two minutes” i growled as i held him back. Klaus remained sat on the floor clearly surprised at the outburst

“that fucking mutt put his hands on you, i’m going to end him if it kills me too” yea that seemed to bring Klaus back. His eyes yellow as he ripped Marcel from my grip and tossed him against the room. He punched him once, twice, three times before i sped in the way and took the fourth hit crying out at the force of his hit. Immediately both men shut up, no hands were thrown and silence took over the room. My eyes remained on Klaus’s as pure fear settled on his face, Marcel gently touched my cheek where i was hit

“i’m so sorry, oh god i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to do- that! i wasn’t, i didn’t” Klaus was backing away quickly wiping his hand on his shirt nearly tripping over his own foot

“it was my fault, i overreacted and purposely got him mad, lets just get you home okay, i’m sorry y/n, you know i wouldn’t-“

“no it’s fine, i jumped in the way, i knew he’d get me instead it’s okay, i’m not hurt, I’m a vampire, i heal, both of you just apologise to each other and i’m gonna get a drink or something” i gave Klaus a small reassuring smile as i left the room.

By the time i came back they were both sat down quietly.

“i’m sorry i hurt you” klaus whispered and i gently pet his hair

“that’s okay, i forgive you” i mumbled rubbing my thumb over his pouted pink lips

“and i’m sorry i slept with your sister, i wasn’t aware”

“it’s fine i overreacted, it’s not like i’m not seeing your sister so you know”

“damn what a fucked up family” i muttered taking a sip of my drink

“right so i’m gonna head out, you two good? nobody’s gonna scream the second i leave?” they both nodded

“alright then, see both of you soon then okay?”

“i’ll see you tomorrow?” Marcel offered snd i nodded shrugging

Klaus looked at me almost hopefully before side-eyeing Marcel. I wrote down my number and handed it to Klaus ignoring my brother’s eye roll

“see you soon Klaus” i whispered and quickly kissed his cheek before going to my new home

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vintagemulti · 2 years

Text

glass and glue

pairings: mainly marc spector x reader, talk of steven grant x reader

desc: marc swore it would be the last time. who knows, maybe it would be.

warnings: episode five spoilers, talk of injury (it’s healing but still), alcohol mentions, swearing, angst, a fairly toxic relationship, mentions of physical abuse (there’s like two), hurt/comfort, smoking, sex mentions, guns, death

a/n: part two blew up so here’s a part three for thanks ;) … this could be a series? lmk

masterlist

series masterlist

marc - ever so generous, had given you a four day stretch with steven, although you were almost sure he was taking his body during the night. the unexplainable bruises and scrapes couldn’t all be countertops and mosquito bites, after all. but nonetheless, for four whole days you had been graced with steven.

but all that’s good must come to an end, as you were about to find out.

the coffee in your hand was balanced like some kind of circus act, even you were surprised when you opened the hotel room door and you didn’t spill it all over the floor.

you stepped into the room, and stopped almost as soon as your body was over the threshold.

the air was different. there was no music playing, the bed hadn’t been made, it smelt different.

marc.

walking to the bedside table, you put the two coffees down, hoping they wouldn’t be thrown at you next.

you walked to the balcony, sliding the glass door open and pulling out the pack of cigarettes from your back pocket and lighting one with the bright orange zippo lighter you bought upon arrival in egypt - you’d had a premonition you’d need a spare one.

“those’ll kill you, you know?” you didn’t need to turn around - the accent spoke for itself.

nodding, you took another drag. “and how unfortunate that would be, right?”

only then did you turn, leaning on your elbows against the railing and looking at your husband. somehow, even if he hadn’t said a word, you still would’ve know it was marc.

his eyes were more hooded, his hair parted a different way - although it was normally pushed back. marc looked, funnily enough, older than steven. everything about him was older, from the way he carried himself, to his knowledge, his experience. his kill count was high enough for a dozen lifetimes, though.

marc scoffed a little, but you couldn’t quite tell where this was headed. was he really mad, after seeing you for only a few seconds? part of you hoped he wasn’t, but the other part longed for steven once again.

“look, marc,” you took another drag. “if you’re gonna yell, yell now. i think there’s a bottle or two in the room you can empty, and please stand a bit further back if you want to throw-”

“i’m sorry.”

your head snapped up. smoke poured out of your mouth, fogging your vision a little - but it wasn’t your vision you thought was going. “what?”

“i’m sorry, y/n.”

“wow,” you extended the syllable although you said it so quietly you weren’t sure if you’d said it at all. “we’ve been married for what? eight years? nine?”

marc nodded.

“and this is the first time you’ve apologised after a fight.”

he nodded again, eyes failing to meet yours. his hands were tangled in each other, fidgeting. “something like that.”

you raised your eyebrows, taking one final, long drag before putting the cigarette out on the railing. you felt the smoke hit your lungs, something that - even though you knew it would come back to bite you in the ass - had brought you comfort since you were a teenager. from stress, sadness, anger - which is why your smoking habit seemed to double after you and marc got married. funny coincidence, right?

walking to where he was stood, between the balcony and the room, you exhaled, blowing the smoke right into his face.

he waved his hand in front of his face, clearing his view. “come on, y/n, please-”

“what, marc? please what? please come to bed so we can forget about this? please shut up and be a good wife? we took the obey part out of our vows for a reason.”

“not like that,” he slid the balcony door shut. “can we please just talk about this?”

another first - talking was never marc’s forte. he liked to put his mouth to other good uses.

you looked at him for a minute, before sighing and shaking your head. “fine, fine.”

he nodded in thanks, taking a deep breath - like a kid before presenting to the class.

“y/n, i know that we don’t… we haven’t had the best marriage - but i’ve been thinking, i’ve had a lot of time to think - i think it wouldn’t be so bad for us to see a marriage counsellor.”

you couldn’t lie, the idea had been on your mind for quite some time now - about three fights ago you had realised that whatever you and marc had going on, it wasn’t healthy. not anymore.

“i know that it doesn’t seem like it, but i do love you, y/n. i fucking adore you, i just- i can’t… i can’t give you a reason why, but the last few years - especially after- well, you know.”

and you did know. his mom’s death had hit him harder than anything, especially after his childhood. he felt like he wasn’t allowed to grieve, but as you had tried to explain, she was still his mother. there was good in the memories, somewhere, you knew there was something for him to hold onto.

sure, you hated the woman and never had a chance to meet her (not that you would have taken it, anyway) but she was your mother in law. she created the best and worst parts of your husband - of all him.

so, her death didn’t affect you much, not initially. it seemed to be marc it had an effect on, from the second his dad called him and told him. what did effect you was his sadness - he was arguing less, drinking more, and for the first time, he was opening up to you. he cried his heart out, and every time he did you pretended not to notice how he had to stop his eyes rolling back into his head.

that’s all of the affect it had in you, for a short while, anyway.

but after her shiva, even you had noticed that steven began fronting more often, and marc was losing control of when it would happen. not that you minded - marc had told you about him early into your marriage, and steven had fronted for the first time with you a few weeks after your wedding, sure he was a little startled, but he came to love you just as much as marc did.

it was around that time that you realised something, something you never said to marc. he was adamant that he was the one protecting steven, but after you watched him on that street, you knew one thing for certain. marc was never steven’s protector. steven was his.

you nodded, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “i know. but… but it’s been years, marc.”

“yeah,” he sighed. “yeah, and we both know this doesn’t work. me, taking everything out on you, and steven- fuck, he’s a better husband than i could ever hope to be. he looks after you so well, i- i don’t know if that’s me.”

you’d be wrong to deny it, you thought. “maybe it isn’t.”

“come on, you know i’m not wrong. i’ve seen you two for the last four days, i mean- fuck? the way he looks at you, i-” his breath caught. “i don’t blame you for being happier with him.”

“him not throwing bottles is a pro, to be fair.” you laughed a little, fingers brushing against you arm. the bandage no longer stained with red every time you moved, and you could feel the little gashes beginning to close up.

marc snapped his head towards you. “y/n, i am sorry for that, for every time. i didn’t want to hurt you, i just-”

“wanted to hit me.” you shrugged. “it’s fine, marc. i get it. you don’t want to cause harm, but you do.”

he looked away from you, head falling into his hand and he rubbed his temple. “i saw you two, the other night-”

“oi!” you frowned. “we agreed you wouldn’t watch that.”

“it was an accident, i’m not a perv.” he smirked. “although i am grateful for the view.”

you rolled your eyes as he winked, but could feel the heat rise in your cheeks. it had been a fun night, after all. fuck - fun was the understatement of the century. you were surprised you were walking, to be frank.

“i digress,” marc mumbled. “look, i am sorry. we - both of us - we need to fix this. because if we don’t, it’ll… well, you know where it’ll end.”

you nodded. “yeah, i know.”

there was a beat of silence.

“i didn’t mean what i said, by the way.”

looking up, you was marc’s eyes staring into yours. “which part?”

“about the divorce,” he swallowed. “i would never- please don’t think that’s what i want, it’s not.”

“i know,” you almost whispered. “me neither, marc.”

silence fell over the two of you again, it wasn’t awkward - despite everything, there never was an awkward silence between you and your husband, even in moments like this - no, it was more somber, if anything. the streets below were the only noise flooding into the room, aside from the two of your breathing.

you thought about if things were different. if marc was a better man, a clean man. a man who didn’t kill people for money and kill people for gods. a man who didn’t kill. was that too much to ask? what kind of life could you have lived? children? a house in the suburbs?

no. no, you thought. even though you’d hate to admit it, something about this life appealed to you - the violence, the moving from hotel to hotel every other day, the gun you always had to keep in your bag. just a precaution, marc had told you. just a tiny little precaution that you when he had handed it to you, he had warned you that if you ever had to shoot it, shoot to kill.

it wasn’t like you didn’t know how to use a gun. fuck, how else would you and marc had met? you had gotten into the mercenary world before you were old enough to order a drink in any american bar, but circumstances put you there. a past full of death, much like marc’s.

sure, it wasn’t ideal that your friend layla had a huge crush on marc when you’d met him, but the fire in him that kept you warm seemed to have burned her - anyways, they never even dated, and she had given you her blessing to pursue him.

a rough start, but a start nonetheless.

“so, steven, huh?” marc broke the silence.

“he’s my husband too, marc.” you raised your eyebrows, tone playful.

“i’d fuckin’ hope so,” he muttered. “it’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?”

you had to stop your jaw from falling open. “you said you didn’t watch that.”

he threw his hands up, admitting defeat. “i never said those words, and it was an accident. i can’t chose to see it, sometimes. it just happens.”

“oh, yeah,” you nodded. “but you still watched.”

marc clicked his tongue. “in all fairness, you are my wife.”

“and steven’s wife, he doesn’t watch us.”

“i wouldn’t bet on that.”

his quick response took you by surprise, and this time you weren’t quick enough to stop your jaw dropping. “what?”

“oh, come on,” he leaned against the wall behind him. “where’d you think he learned how to fuck you like that?”

you snapped your mouth shut, smile forming on your lips. your eyes focused on the mirror behind marc’s head. “really? i’d say he was the better one, if anything.”

there was another silence, but clearly only to you. marc spun on his heels and faced the mirror, pointing a finger at it.

“you, shut the fuck up,” he turned to you. “and you can take that back.”

giggles filled the room, your laugh bouncing off the walls into into marc’s ears from every direction. oh how he missed that sound.

“i mean it, doll, take that the fuck back,” he was smiling now, too.

“never.”

“well, shit,” marc shrugged, stepping towards you. “i might just have to prove you wrong.”

686 notes · View notes

crissiebaby · 1 year

Text

The Perfect Match, Pt. 1

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, babyfication, humiliation, domination, SPH, masturbation/diaper sex, anal play, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: Anon

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*KNOCK KNOCK!*

Standing outside of a posh townhome on the wealthier side of town was JW, an average-looking and mild-mannered guy. Dressed in a wrinkled, orange T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting jeans that he really should’ve purchased a belt for by now, one wouldn’t suspect that he was standing on this very doorstep in anticipation of a date with a girl he matched on a dating app. He honestly couldn’t believe it himself when he saw who he matched with.

Elma M. That was the name JW stumbled upon one drunken weekday night when flipping through girls on Bumblr. Unlike most of the other girls he’d happened upon, she was more than just cute or good with makeup and lighting. She was an absolute knockout with an almost cartoonishly perfect hourglass figure. Her bio made sure to brag about her E-cups, something that only turned JW on more. He definitely was looking for an attractive and confident woman like her. With little self-awareness and a crap ton of wishful thinking, he swiped right and hoped for the best.

To his gleeful surprise, about half a day later after he had sobered, JW received a notification on his phone saying that Elma M. had matched with him. He practically jumped for joy as he stared down at his phone, feeling a sense of pride welling up in his chest. After a brief but pleasant conversation, he and Elma agreed to meet at her place for a Friday evening date. To think that not only would he be going on a date with one of the hottest women he’d ever laid eyes on but he’d be stopping by her house first. Maybe if he was lucky, they would swing by her place after the date as well.

While JW was nothing but confident in his match with Elma, his friends were far more skeptical, trying to remind him if something on the internet seems too good to be true, it almost certainly is. He attempted to quell their doubts by boasting about Bumblr’s top-notch verification system which made it nearly impossible for someone to fake an account. Sadly, his friends weren’t exactly swayed. Rolling his bright, green eyes at their cynicism, he decided the best way to prove them wrong was to go on the date and brag about it afterward.

*Raaaaaaattle! CLICK!*

The sounds of the front door unlocking pulled JW’s wandering mind back to reality. He quickly straightened up his poster and adjusted his stance so that his “good” angle was pushed forward. Running his fingers through his neck-length brown hair one last time, his face brightened into a smile, ready to greet his date.

“Hi! You must be JW!” said Elma with a deep, sultry voice as her ruby-red lips stretched into a warm smile. The photos on Bumblr failed to capture just how drop-dead gorgeous this woman was. Her long, auburn hair shimmered under the glow of the porch lights, accenting her delicate skin tone perfectly.

Tragically, JW was not aware of this as his eyes were drawn in by the hypnotic pull of Elma’s sweater puppies. Contrary to his mundane appearance, she was wearing a black evening dress with a slit running down the side of her leg and a fashion belt strapped around her waist. The length of the dress did nothing to hide just how tall Elma was, standing more than a couple of inches above JW’s painfully average height of 5’9”.

Stepping out of the doorway, Elma happily stood over JW, looking down at him as she extended her arm for a handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, accepting JW’s slightly damp hand into her own, “Please, come inside, won’t you? I’m almost finished getting ready.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to make her way back inside the house while keeping a grip on JW’s appendage.

Not that JW would’ve turned Elma down anyway. If she had asked him to be her dog, he would’ve rolled over and barked at her beck and call. Entering her well-manicured apartment, he was instantly blown away by how spotless and trending everything was. All the furniture matched the tan-colored walls and soft, beige carpet, creating a relaxing environment. It was certainly a far cry from his drab studio, which had not been thoroughly cleaned since he moved in.

“Kick your shoes off at the door, please. Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?” said Elma, shutting the door behind JW and locking it tight. Once again, she didn’t wait for an answer, making a B-line directly toward the kitchen.

Obeying Elma’s request, JW, quickly slid his tennis shoes off without untying them and parked himself down on the plush couch. “Um…sure. Thank you,” he said, not really being much of a tea person but far too nervous to turn down her offer. As he waited for Elma to return with his teacup, he glanced around her living room, admiring the small bits of personality hidden within her decor. From the abstract painting of a child playing with blocks to the music box with a cutely-dressed ceramic infant on top, she clearly had a thing for baby imagery. Based on the fact that she was getting into her 30s, it was clear to him that she must’ve been eager to settle down. This thought caused him to snicker as he mumbled under his breath, “Guess all those asshole dudebros didn’t work out, so she’s finally giving a nice guy a try.”

After a couple of minutes of tapping his finger on the armrest of the couch before transitioning to tapping his finger on the touch screen of his phone, Elma finally returned with a fine china tea cup on a small serving platter in hand. “Here you are! You go ahead and drink up. I’ll be ready in a jiffy,” she said, gently handing the cup and saucer to JW. After the handoff, she proceeded to watch JW for a moment, waiting for him to take his first sip.

Feeling the pressure of Elma’s eyes on him, JW lifted the cup to his mouth and took in a small sip. Pleasantly, the tea was the perfect temperature, not too warm and not too cold. That was nothing compared to the flavor, which danced on his tongue in a mixture of fruity and leafy undertones. “Mmmm! It’s delicious,” he said before tipping the cup back for another, much larger gulp.

Pleased by JW’s enjoyment of the tea, Elma turned to leave, watching him in the corner of her eye as he chugged down the contents of the teacup. She had anticipated him to take longer to finish his cup. However, since he was so unrefined as to slurp down the entire cup in one fell swoop, she supposed she might as well get started. “Tell me, JW…” she said in a far less sweet tone as she slowly turned around to face JW again from the other side of the room, a looming shadow shrouding her face in darkness, “...Is that really what you’re planning to wear on our date?”

Polishing off the last of his tea, JW coughed as Elma’s question caught him off-guard. Surely the kind-sounding woman who had treated him so nicely up to this point didn’t just say something so pointed. Unfortunately, as he looked up from his cup, any doubts he had were laid to rest by her stoic expression. “I-I…um…” he stuttered, a knot welling up in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t really one for confrontation, so hearing Elma be so directly disappointed in his appearance hit him hard.

“‘I’ and ‘Um’? Is that really all you have to say for yourself?” asked Elma, strutting back across the living room until she towered over a still-seated JW, “I cannot fathom why you assumed a t-shirt and blue jeans were acceptable attire for a dinner date. If this relationship is going to work, I expect the same level of output from you that I put in. Understand?”

Scared by Elma’s sudden turn-face-heel, JW nodded quickly. While he partially began to notice why someone as beautiful as Elma was still single, his desperation for her voluptuous body led him to hope this would only be a minor speed bump in what would surely be a long and loving relationship. “If you g-give me twenty minutes, I can go home and change,” he said, praying that he remembered to wash his good button-up in the last load of laundry.

“And waste my time? Funny!” responded Elma, shaking her head in disapproval, “A bunch of my brother’s clothes are still here. Strip and I’ll fetch you something more fitting for a date with someone like me.” She punctuated her sentence by folding her arms across her bodacious chest.

Nodding meekly for a second time, JW was honestly a little relieved that he wouldn’t have to rush all the way home, though he was also nervous about letting a girl he’d just met dress him. As hesitant as he was, he wasn’t about to risk having her turn him away. “F-Fine. Can you show me to a bathroom or spare room to change?” he asked, still clutching the teacup between his fingers.

“Ha! And give you the chance to rifle through my stuff? Fat chance,” said Elma, glaring holes through JW’s skull, “No, you’ll strip right here, right now, or the date is off.”

Cowering in his seat, JW was so intimidated by Elma that he could faint. As frightening as she was in her present state, he couldn’t help but find himself aroused by how dominant she was. The conflict in his brain threatened to give him whiplash. Reluctantly, he climbed to his feet and began to lift his shirt over his head, too committed to his date with a bombshell to refuse at this point. However, as he removed his orange top and showed off his slender, scrawny physique, he remembered which pair of underwear he had chosen to wear that day, causing him to blush at the thought of showing them to Elma. “P-Please, can I have some privacy for the next part?” he pleaded, hoping for an ounce of mercy from his date.

“Nope! Pants down now, lover boy,” said Elma, showing no leniency toward JW. With how close she was to getting him undressed, he was nearly to the point of no return. All she had to do was push him a little further to seal the deal.

With shaky hands, JW reached down for the front button of his pants, not certain he had the emotional strength to see this through. His face was beet red with humiliation and he hadn’t even lowered his jeans yet. In the back of his mind, he knew if he let her see what he was wearing under his pants that any shot of a long-term romance with Elma would be dead and gone. Taking a deep breath, he readied himself to stand up to his date, “I can’t. I’ll wear whatever you want me to. Just don’t make me do this.”

Rolling her eyes, Elma closed the gap between her and JW as she reached down and placed her hands on the waistband of his jeans. “If you’re not going to do it, I’ll just have to do it for you,” she said starkly as she yanked JW’s pants down with enough force to strip him in one go. Now that his jeans were around his ankles, her eyes went wide as she finally figured out why he’d been so resistant, “HAHAHA! Are those…tighty whities?!”

Sure enough, stretched around JW’s waist was a pair of fresh tighty whities, their newly-purchased status on display due to the lack of loose threads and laundry stains. Adding to his embarrassment was his less-than-flaccid cock, which pulsed against the fabric of his undies. A small dot of precum accentuated the tip of his penis, letting Elma know exactly what he thought of her.

“Oh my Goddess! This is just too much,” said Elma, keeping a tight grip on JW’s pants so that he couldn’t scurry away. Positioning herself so she could free up a hand, she reached across his unshaven thighs and lightly flicked the girth of JW’s little JW, “Is that all the harder it can get? I take it JW must stand for Junior Wiener. No wonder you’re wearing tighty whities! Grade-school undies for a grade-school-sized cock.”

Unable to stomp his legs free from Elma’s hold, JW could do nothing more to hide from his shame than cover his face with one hand while meekly pushing Elma’s hand away with the other. “Y-You don’t have to be a b-bitch about it,” he mumbled angrily through gritted teeth with his damaged pride. As someone who didn’t have a ton of confidence in his four-inch weapon, this was by far the most devastating night of his life, “Just let me p-pull my pants up and I’ll get out of your hair.”

While JW may have wanted a hasty retreat, Elma wasn’t about to let him off so easily. As JW tried to shuffle away again, she thrust the bunched pants upward, stripping them off of JW’s legs and causing him to fall back onto the couch. He wasn’t allowed to settle in for too long, though, as she proceeded to wrap her fingers around the hem of JW’s underwear and pull him back into a standing position. “Oh, you’re not going anywhere, Junior,” she said, bluntly declaring her new nickname for her newest pet. Adding a bit of force to her statement, she shifted her hand to the rear of JW’s undies and tugged them upward, giving him the mother of all wedgies.

“AHHHHHHHHH! S-STAWP IT! LEMME GO!” screamed JW as he was practically lifted off of his feet by his underwear alone. Tragically, his cries fall on deaf ears with Elma showing an ounce of empathy toward her date-to-be. He could practically feel threads popping loose as his body weight worked against him. It was only then that he realized just how much weaker he was than Elma. Her height was one thing but now that she was holding him up, it was plain as day that this woman could easily carry him by one arm if she wanted; a thought that buried his soul in fear.

Shaking her head at JW’s pitiful attempt to claw himself away from her grasp, Elma decided it was time to call it. “I think it’s safe to say that date is officially off now. I’m looking for a man, not some oafish boy,” she said, pulling him up higher so that his feet were officially dangling in mid-air, “Now, you’ve wasted my time. I put a lot of work into getting ready for tonight and turned down quite a few dates when I accepted yours. So, I expect an apology, Junior!”

“I-I-I’m sorry!” cried JW, tears streaming down his cheeks as he pleaded for forgiveness. Between the brute force of the wedgie and the power behind Elma’s voice, everything was so overwhelming. Unfortunately, the pain from having his undies pulled up for so long had caused him to miss the pings of pain resonating from his bladder. Lost in a haze of humiliation and terror, he helplessly began to wet himself; warm, yellow streams trickling down his legs and dripping onto the carpet.

Elma’s hands stopped fighting against JW’s resistance as an evil smile curled across her lips. Not wanting to give herself away, she quickly suppressed her wicked intentions and instead feigned shock and ignorance. “Are you…fucking kidding me?” she said in a tone of voice that was much too calm given the unfolding events.

From JW’s perspective though, Elma’s calmness only made her words more menacing. As soon as he realized what was happening, his hands rushed to cover his crotch, as if applying external pressure would cause him to stop peeing. His attempts to stem the flow failed spectacularly with the pungent, yellow liquid pooling beneath his socks.

“I don’t know who mothered you but that clearly failed,” said Elma, leaning in so her face was only pinky’s length away from JW’s. In one, swift jerking motion, she stretched JW’s tighty whities to the limit, listening to the cacophonous crackling of fabric beginning to tear all the while, “I think it’s about time someone started over with you.”

*RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!*

Collapsing onto the floor where a pool of his own piss had gathered, it had only taken a few minutes of being in Elma’s townhome for JW to turn into a shell of his former self. Lines of snot and drool bubbled down his face, accenting his uncontrollable tears. Tilting his head toward the floor like a dog who knows they’re in trouble, he couldn’t bear to look up and see Elma waving his tattered, yellow-stained undies over his head. He wanted to run away and never look back but sadly, given that the last scrap of clothing he had on was mercilessly ripped away, he was now stuck under Elma’s thumb until she either dressed him or kicked him out; the latter of which he prayed happened after the former.

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The warmth of the shower felt nice on JW’s raw skin. After falling into a puddle of his own urine, he supposed he should be grateful to Elma for letting him clean himself up, though part of him assumed she only did it to keep him from tracking any more pee around the house. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he cracked the bathroom door open and sheepishly called out, “H-Hey Elma, I’m all done.” “Okay, I’m just picking out stuff for you to wear. Come join me in the room at the end of the hall,” responded Elma, no longer sounding nearly as agitated.

Stepping out of the bathroom, JW peeked into the living room, finding several damp towels placed along the floor. Seeing the aftermath of his accident caused his face to flush instantly. He quickly looked away and B-lined straight for the door at the end of the short hall, hoping that Elma would have the carnage cleared while he got dressed.

As JW entered the room, he expected to find Elma’s bedroom, guest room, or maybe even a home office. What he didn’t expect was for the scent of baby powder to assault his nostrils as soon as he broke the plane into the room. To his surprise, all around him was a meticulously organized nursery done up in soft, pastel colors. It had everything one would expect to see in a baby room, from furnishings such as a changing table, a crib, and a large diaper pail, to a wide selection of toys and baby outfits that would make any infant feel like the luckiest kid in the world.

Why all of this was in such an attractive woman’s house was beyond JW. The first assumption that came to his head was that she must’ve had a kid, which might explain why she was still single this late in her life. However, that theory was thrown out the window as, upon taking a more critical look, he noticed that all of the furnishings were much too large for any baby to interact with. Maybe it was a daycare service? Or perhaps her kid was special needs? Before JW could settle on an answer in his brain, Elma emerged from the closet with a bright orange piece of fabric folded neatly in her hands. “Go ahead and throw this on,” she said, offering the clothing to JW.

Due to the fact that the cloth in his hand was the same color as the shirt he’d shown up in, JW’s brain instantly connected the dots, leading him to assume what he was holding was his own t-shirt. This theory was quickly debunked, though, thanks to the difference in fabric type. Intrigued, he unfurled the folded attire, watching as it rolled past his belly and stopped just above his crotch. Only, unlike a normal shirt, this one seemed to curve back inward at the bottom…and had a set of three buttons lining the bottom hem… “Um, excuse me but I think you gave me a…a onesie?”

“It’s not a mistake,” said Elma nonchalantly, as if nothing was out of place, “Now, hurry up and get it on, but don’t touch the snaps.”

Blushing slightly, JW’s mind refused to believe that Elma actually intended for him to wear such a getup. He chuckled nervously, deciding to play off how mortifying her little prank was. “Haha, very funny. Look, I said I was sorry about the carpet and I promise I’ll pay for a cleaner but this is honestly a pretty tasteless joke,” he said, setting the onesie aside.

Stomping across the nursery, Elma was done with JW’s insolence. She whisked his towel away and grabbed him by the ear and forced him in close. “I don’t think you realized what’s happening here, so let me spell it out for you,” she said, causing his waterworks to slowly reactivate, “I said hurry up and get it on, and do not touch the snaps. Now, are you going to listen, or am I dragging you out of my house butt naked?”

With his lip quivering, a shaken JW picked the onesie back up and began to fit it over his head. It was surprisingly more snug than he thought when initially presented with the outfit, hugging his torso as he shifted the stretchy fabric across his body.

“There, doesn’t that feel much safer and cozier,” said Elma, patting JW’s hair as she took him by the arm and led him to the changing table, “Hop on up so I can finish changing you.”

Taking a step back, JW instinctually shook his head no, well aware of what Elma’s intentions were. “Nononono, you can’t be…s-serious…” he said, his voice trailing off as he looked into Elma’s eyes, only to see how deadly serious she really was. With his digits still clasped within hers, he allowed himself to be guided back to the changing table, where Elma placed her hands on his hips and lifted his butt onto the table. The cool, padded surface of the table caused him to wince ever so slightly.

“See, not so scary, right?” said Elma, her condescending, motherly voice beginning to leak through the cracks of her facade as she placed a diaper flat on the changing table, “I’m going to lay you back now. Try to keep still until I finish, and I’ll make sure you get a lovely reward.”

By this point, JW was locked in place by sheer panic, too afraid to run while also dreading what was to come if he stayed. Losing every ounce of his autonomy with each passing second, he mindlessly allowed Elma to rotate him and lay him back gently, prompting her to slide the diaper under his butt. He felt the air leave his lungs as the plastic surface of the diaper crinkled as he was stationed atop it.

“Breathe, baby boy. I promise it’ll be over before you know it. I am a professional, after all,” said Elma, as she began lathering up his diaper area with lotion, making sure to save his twig and berries for last, “Look at it! It’s even more shriveled up than before! A penis so small it was practically made for diapers.” She giggled, watching the redness pile onto JW’s cheeks from the corner of her eyes. Setting the lotion aside, she grabbed the bottle of baby powder from the changing table’s shelf and made it snow all over her new newborn’s pelvic region.

As the diaper was folded up between his legs, JW felt the last gasp of his material adulthood vanish in thin air as his babyish wardrobe was now complete. He barely recognized himself as he looked down and watched Elma press the onesie’s buttons into place.

Rounding out his ensemble, Elma hoisted a pair of locking, silk mittens and booties onto him, adding to his defenseless dependency. She also popped a pacifier in his mouth, silencing any future protests that might arise. “There we go! Properly dressed and ready for a night in with Mother Elma,” she said as she lifted JW into her arms and held his head close to her chest, “Also, I’d better not see that that paci leave your lips without permission, or else there’ll be consequences. Understand?”

Snuggled up in Elma’s arms, JW nodded compliantly as he fought against the parts of his psyche that gained any sort of enjoyment from this. Sure, being so close to Elma’s enormous E-cups was a blessing for any man but not at the cost of his adulthood! Waking himself from the hypnotic magnetism of

gargantuan gazongas, he worked up the courage to ask a single question from around the nipple of his binky, “C-Can I go home now?”

Approaching their destination, Elma held onto her answer for a little longer, waiting until the perfect moment. She planted a kiss on the tip of his nose as she grabbed onto the pair of straps hanging down from the ceiling and pulled them open wide enough for JW’s legs to slip through. With JW in place, she let him drop into the harness, landing with an adorable *pomf* as his butt slotted in Elma’s adult-sized baby bouncer that was high enough to keep him from ever getting a solid footing.

Before JW could even react to his new surroundings, Elma took hold of both his hands and connected the mittens he was wearing to a chain that was elaborately hung over the bouncer, fixing his arms into a more permanent position. It hadn’t taken nearly as long as she thought it would but the hard part was officially over. With JW locked up in the bouncer with no hope of escaping on his own, things were about to get a lot more fun, especially once her friends arrived.

*KNOCK KNOCK!*

Speaking of the devil, Elma’s mischievous grin returned. “I wonder who that could be. Wait, right here, Junior. Mother Elma will be right back,” she said, skipping to the nursery entrance and making her way toward the front door.

Left alone bobbing up and down, JW could hear the door creak open, followed by a muddle of female voices chattering, though he couldn’t make out who else was talking or what they were conversing about. He considered momentarily threatening to call the cops once Elma came back but decided against it, worried she might retaliate. Closing his eyes, he wished to whoever might be listening for this nightmare to be over, praying that whoever was at the door didn’t get invited back to see him. Sadly, hearing multiple footsteps and voices moving through the hall, he had a feeling that prayer wasn’t going to be answered.

“OMG! You really did a number on him Elma!”

“Yeah, even though it all went to plan, I can’t believe he turned out so perfectly.”

JW didn’t even have to look at who had entered the nursery to know who it was. Those two voices were so burned into his memory that there was no way he could forget. Angling his head toward the door, he confirmed what he already knew. Standing in the doorway with eager expressions were Hannah, his most recent ex-girlfriend, and Kaley, his very first relationship. Confused, horrified, and embarrassed to high heaven, his mouth went slack, resulting in his pacifier dropping to the floor.

TO BE CONTINUED…

PART 2

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Edited by AllySmolShork

#ab/dl #ab/dl art #ab/dl stories #ab/dl girl #ab/dl diaper #diaper art #diaper stories #crissiebaby #diaper messy #dirty diaper #wetting diaper #diaper humiliation #sissybaby #diaper sissy #ab dl #ab dl diaper

17 notes · View notes

snowymav · 2 years

Text

req @simpingforclaudette : what do you think of a scenario where tangerine lives and he and ladybug meet again at a gay bar?

i wasn’t lying when i said i preferred writing angst..

i’m so sorry this probably wasn’t what you were after when you requested this!! :<

they also aren’t in a gay bar, just a regular club..

i got carried away, forgive me.

also posted on ao3, here !

————

“Another drink, Nathaniel?” The woman was slurring every word, who Nathaniel was Ladybug had no clue, clearly drunk despite the lack of alcohol she had consumed. He wondered why he was even here, what had brought him to think finding a hookup on a dating site was actually a good idea? She had been kind, at first, keeping him company as he nursed the glass of coke in his hand, Veronica was her name.

It had been nice for a while, until she got bored. Or more like Ladybug had gotten bored. He supposed it was his own fault she started to chat with the bar staff, after all he had promised sex, and sex definitely didn’t look like the bottom of a coke glass filled with ice and a slice of lime. That’s what Ladybug had busied himself with for almost half an hour.

“I'm good, thank you though.” Ladybug waved her off. He wasn’t trying to be rude, simply couldn’t find it in himself to look at her anymore, he was disinterested.

“That’s not- Nathaniel you’re supposed to be buying me drinks, a lady never pays for her own drinks on a first date!” Again with the Nathaniel. The pitch in her voice got higher with every word, Ladybug’s already blooming headache seemingly on course for the worst sober hangover he’d ever experience. The lack of alcohol mixed with booming music, bright lights and the drunk lady beside him wasn’t tasteful. In fact it made him feel sick.

He only felt worse when he finally lifted his head, hands coming to pat at his jeans, the bartender taking the chance to snatch his empty glass. Veronica was pretty, Ladybug was almost sorry he hadn’t paid attention to her, he’s sure she would’ve been lovely sober. But when he finally went to make eye contact with her, he noticed something, someone, awfully familiar.

“Nathaniel?” Ladybug had been standing from his seat at the bar before he could render himself walking, Veronica’s voice calling out to him getting quieter as he pushed through the sea of people in his way.

He felt like his legs were going to give out, trying his best to keep on the curly, ginger tinged hair that had caught his eye. Ladybug was sure his heart was beating far too fast to be considered healthy and that the way he was breathing would definitely make him seem like he was at the start of a nervous breakdown. He kept walking, more like jogging, his shoulder barges getting harder the more people he passed.

And when he finally got close enough, Ladybug couldn’t stop himself, reaching out and bringing his hand down to a sweater covered shoulder. His grip hard, startling the man, making him jump slightly, the music drowning out his shout as he whipped his head around to the culprit.

“Jesus christ, don’t you know anythin about fuckin manners?” There it was, the ding in Ladybugs head. This is why you’re here. All it took was the wave off a thick british accent cursing blindly and Ladybug knew he wasn’t dreaming.

“Tangerine…”

He hadn’t heard that nickname in months. No one had called him that, not even his handler when calling for check ups, and his brother refused to buy tangerines for the apartment or anything in the orange fruit family for that matter. It filled him with fear, anger. Made the scar on his neck burn. His eyes sting with tears.

Though what surprised Tangerine the most was that it seemed to have the same effect on Ladybug.

He hadn’t changed much, blond hair a little longer, bags under his eyes a little darker. But he was still the same little Ladybug that shot him, the same man he hadn’t stopped thinking about since the day he was supposed to die. Tangerine wasn't mad, he wasn’t upset, not at Ladybug. Sure he was pissed that he was stupid enough to believe a child over him, but he had longed for Ladybugs eyes on his own ever since he closed them for what he thought was the last time, on the train.

Ladybug had sobbed, a horrendous noise wretched from deep in his throat when Tangerine had pulled him forward by his hands, backing them up into the toilets.

Tangerine's hand was on the back of his neck, pushing Ladybug into his shoulder, his other hand coming to grip at his waist. It took Ladybug a few moments to register who’s touch was on him, it had been so long since he’d had anyone this close. Once he had inhaled, realising Tangerine hadn’t pulled out a gun or knocked a punch to his gut, his own hands were gripping at everything they could.

He sent them flying backwards into the tiled wall out of sheer force in returning the hug, pressing his chest up to Tangerine’s, wrapping his arms around him and tugging him closer. Tangerine had begun to cry at some point, letting himself shed the tears he had kept in for so long.

“You’re an arsehole, ya know? leaving me to die.” Tangerine was laughing through his tears, choking on them as he spoke. Every word was being mumbled into Ladybugs hair, the vibrations reminding him that he wasn’t dead. “Can't believe you killed me!”

“Shut up, god please shut up-“ His voice was strained, Ladybug wanted to laugh, wanted to see the light in shooting Tangerine but he couldn’t. Not after watching him bleed out onto the floor of the train, hearing him splutter over his last words which had in fact been a warning to the actual Diesel on the train, seeing the man’s brother mourn his loss right in front of him.

“You’re alright, Bug. I’m fine.”

#more tangbug angst im sorry #my loves <33 #ladybug x tangerine #tangerine x ladybug #gay #bullet train #bullet train movie

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maccreadysbaby · 1 year

Note

Maybe a fem medic reader and soap getting in a fight because he’s so reckless and at the end she just kissed him

Oooh yay! I think this is the first kiss I’ve ever written in detail on my account 🥹 glad it’s my soapy boy

Tw: fluff, maybe smut if you squint

ANNOYANCE™︎

Y/n grumbled as she and Soap flew through the safe house door. If it wasn’t for the sergeant compromising their location — again — they’d be home by now. He was spotted by a sniper because he just had to be closer to the target. Luckily, the sniper sucked.

But that didn’t mean Y/n was happy.

“Bloody hell, Soap, why can’t you just do as you’re told? Do you not understand that when Ghost says hold position you need to hold your position?” She grumbled. “You could’ve been shot.”

He turned back toward her, eyes raking up and down her appearance. “But I wasn’t.”

“But you could’ve been, and then it would’ve been up to me to save your stupid arse and probably get shot, too,” She huffed, crossing her arms.

“Fine, I won’t do it again,”

“Yes you will. You do it on every mission. You push it just a little farther, just a little farther, like a kid trying to see how far they get get before they get I trouble. Like you’re some kind of super soldier. But you’re not, and if you get shot and I get downed by a sniper, we’re both dead,” She stated. “Get it through your thick skull that if you go down, most likely, I’m going with you.”

She meant it both figuratively and literally, because she knew if Soap died, she wouldn’t be able to handle it. He shifted his weight on his feet. “Great to know you’re looking out for number one, then.”

Y/n’s anger grew massive, and she flung her arms out to the side. “I’m not looking out for me, Soap, I’m looking out for you!”

“Well stop, it makes you bloody annoying,” He stated, turning and walking deeper into the safe house.

“I can’t just stop!” She shouted.

“Why not?!” He snapped back, turning toward her again. “If I’m such a big inconvenience to you, why don’t you just pretend I’m not here, aye?”

Y/n heard the way his accent got deeper when he was irritated. She saw the way his eyes flicked to the side when he didn’t want to make eye contact, the way he clicked the safety of his gun on and off when he was talking about something important. The way his pupils seemed to take in every inch of her appearance when he was upset, trying to find something about her to convince him otherwise.

Y/n had no earthly clue what she was doing when her first instinct was to march toward him. Her body was in complete overdrive and her brain wasn’t doing anything. It was a surprise, both to her and him, when her hands flew out — but not to slap him like she thought. Instead, she latched onto both sides of his face, and her lips crashed into his in a deep, angry kiss.

Soap was stunned for a solid three or four seconds, before he sank into her, hands finding their way to the back of her neck and pulling her closer. Their lips and bodies seemed to move perfectly in sync with one another, like they’d been waiting for this day for years. (Because they had.) Soap’s hands weaved themselves into her hair as her’s looped tightly around his neck, minimizing the distance between them to nothing. Every hint of anger in Y/n’s body turned to something lethal, gasoline, and every ounce of irritation in annoyance in his veins turned into fire. It felt like explosions as they parted for air and came back together again, two, three, four times. The battlefield, the mission, their lives were far from their mind at that moment, because all they could think about was each other. How their bodies fit so perfectly together, how their lips moved in harmony, how the deep craving and wandering that sat in both of their hearts for so long was fading as they raked their hands through the other’s hair and across their warm skin.

The moment only ended when Ghost flung the safe house door open in a fit of anger, storming inside like a hurricane. Y/n and Soap thought they shoved each other away fast enough for him to miss it, but apparently, they hadn’t. Because when they both peered over at them, smiling innocently, he muttered:

“Bloody ‘ell,”

#soap mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #call of duty mw2 #mw2 #soap call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x you #john soap mactavish #mwii

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 1 year

Text

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐡 - Paddy x Augustin

i'm on that paddy/augustin bullshit and i HAD to write a little fic about them. ugh, i can't with these two. and like, the show should've shown us what happened after Augustin got back like?!?!? a missed opportunity💅🏻

Warnings: spoilers for episode 6 of S.A.S.!!!, angst, and hurt/comfort my beloved🥰

word count | 0.9k (short n' sweet)🤙🏻

Augustin was exhausted, drained, hopeless…betrayed.

He thought he knew his men, he really did. Paddy kept saying that his German ally would turn on him, and he ended up being right. Though, it wasn’t Essner like he thought it would be.

It took them all by surprise, a very deadly surprise. He was surprised he even made it out unscathed, nothing but a couple light burn marks on his back. It was only the adrenaline that got him out of that enemy camp. It was hard to be thankful when all his men, people he had known since the war even started, all were dead.

Survivor’s guilt already weighed heavy on the Frenchman’s shoulders.

He already dreaded what would happen when he got back to camp, alone and unsuccessful in the mission. How would everyone react? How would Paddy react? Maybe he’d kill him right on the spot. He wouldn't put it past him, knowing how quick he was to anger. If that twisted roulette game he played just to prove a point was any indication, Augustin was probably in for a world of hurt. But at this point, it was hard to care what would happen to himself now.

By the time he made it back to camp, Augustin was dehydrated, his muscles were throbbing in pain, his lips bloody from how chapped they got in the desert sun, skin blistered from the coarse sand and sunburnt; he was in a bad way. He heard shouts from his comrades before falling to the desert floor, his vision going dark.

When Augustin finally regained consciousness, he jolted upright with a fearful expression before he heard soft shushes from beside him, a firm but reassuring hand on his shoulder. He tried not to look so surprised when he saw it was Paddy that was sitting at his bedside, looking over him in subtle concern. “Took quite a tumble out there, Frenchie.” Paddy spoke in his familiar Irish accent, sitting back in his chair.

Augustin would’ve rolled his eyes at the nickname if it weren’t for his splitting headache he had coming on, his mouth was so dry, discomfort written all over his face. Paddy seemed to instantly take notice as he handed him a glass of water, the Frenchman immediately taking big gulps, letting out a loud exhale of relief as he felt the lukewarm liquid travel down his throat pleasantly. “How long have I been asleep?” Augustin asked hesitantly, almost too afraid to know the answer.

“Just half a day. Lads took care of ya real quick after you made it back, gettin’ ya out of the sun, tending to your burns.”

Augustin nodded in acknowledgement, awkwardly taking a few more sips from his glass, his body feeling way too stiff and uncomfortable, from the burns and the Irishman’s intense gaze on him.

“So, ya gonna tell me what happened?” Paddy gave him an expectant look, almost smug, like he knew what already had taken place. He wasn’t being subtle with the way he was just longing to utter the words I told you so. He had made his concerns quite clear, and Augustin felt like a fool to not take his words seriously before it was too late.

Augustin sighed heavily, pushing his glasses up higher on his face. “It wasn’t Essner…”

Paddy nodded, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk. “Tweedle Deutsche. He was my second choice.”

Augustin growled in frustration, glaring at the Irishman with disdain. “Must you make a joke about everything? My men died!”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t take my advice. I told you-”

“Don’t!” Augustin yelled, throwing his empty water glass across the tent, making Paddy’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the glass shatter echoing throughout the area. “Don’t…” Augustin’s voice dropped to a whisper, angry tears welling up in his eyes and threatening to spill over, doing exactly that only when his hid his face in his hands, an embarrassed blush spreading across his face and neck when he couldn’t keep himself from letting out soft sobs and his hands only doing so much to muffle them. “You were right, Paddy…You were right and I didn’t listen and now my men are dead…Maybe I should’ve died with them.”

“Don’t say that.” Paddy quickly spoke, but Augustin only looked up from his hands when he felt his cot shift, seeing the Irishman take an awkward seat next to his legs, resting a hand on his knee in an attempt to be reassuring, but both men were acutely aware that reassurance wasn’t and would never be Paddy’s forte. “No…it wasn’t your fault. It was that Nazi rat’s fault for being a dirty traitor.” He spat, his accent becoming much thicker when he was angry.

Augustin couldn’t resist letting out a weak chuckle, wiping away some of his fallen tears. “I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, Paddy. But I know when I need to take responsibility for my actions.”

“Try not to dwell on it is all the advice I can give you, but I know how hard that is.” Paddy's gaze turned forlorn as he thought back to Eoin, knowing his actions back then was the reason he was dead. “Impossible, really…I am sorry about your men though. They were good men, despite being French.” Paddy joked, but his words held no malice as they normally did, a very good possibility it was for Augustin’s sake though he’d never admit it. “And for what it’s worth…I’m glad you made it out alive.”

Augustin grinned, his confidence returning, it only for a moment. “Aw, have you started to care about me, Paddy Mayne?”

“Oi, don’t push your luck, tadpole.”

i request more of them in the next season plz

#sas: rogue heroes #sas rogue heroes #augustin jordan #paddy mayne #paddy x augustin #augustin x paddy

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from-the-clouds · 3 years

Text

Kiss Me More - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist | Part Two

Summary: Reader works with Sam & Bucky and has a moment alone with Zemo upon their arrival in Riga. Loosely inspired by this song.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Kissing, heavy petting, minor TFATWS spoilers.

A/N: As if you couldn’t tell already when it comes to what characters I love to write for, I love a bad boy. This was meant to be a short, sweet fic and then I had to get all existential and invent an entire storyline around these two. I think there’s definitely room here for a multiple parts, if you’re interested. Let me know what you think!

----

“I’m going for a walk.”

Y/N didn’t argue with Bucky as he walked away stiffly. With anyone else, she would’ve been suspicious, but she knew Bucky well enough to know it was in her best interest to ignore any of his cryptic behavior. At the end of the day, she knew she could trust him.

Zemo’s flat was spacious and beautiful, and she wasn’t surprised by the ostentatious but minimalist decorating. Zemo excused himself into the bathroom to shower and freshen up. Sam eyed him wearily, but didn’t seem too concerned. Y/N sat down on a couch she guessed cost thrice as much as she paid monthly in rent.

“I’m going to grab some grub, want anything?” Sam asked after only a few moments of pacing around the apartment, seemingly checking to see if they were being set up.

Y/N shook her head no, the constant traveling over the past few days hadn’t been great for her appetite.

“Will you keep an eye on him?” Sam said, flicking his eyes in the direction of the bathroom, where she heard the patter of the shower running steadily.

“Of course,” she answered. Zemo had a reputation, she’d seen it herself. But she didn’t know him to the same extent that Bucky and Sam did. So far, he’d only been polite to her so she wasn’t exactly scared or intimidated about any sort of confrontation.

Plus, she was only here as a favor to her friends. She was hardly talented or important enough to be an Avenger. Bucky and Sam knew they could call her if they were in a pinch. And right now, they were definitely in a pinch.

Picking up a book of photography from the coffee table in front of her, she flipped through it absentmindedly, admiring the photos of ornate architecture and crowded city streets before the click of a doorknob caught her attention. Zemo emerged from the bathroom with damp hair in a bathrobe, slinging a towel over his shoulder and immediately making his way towards the kitchen.

Y/N heard the clink of glasses and ice, and she returned her attention to the book. All the traveling was catching up to her, as her eyelids began to feel heavy, and the quiet in the room allowed her body to finally settle.

“Have a drink with me,” she was startled when she realized Zemo was standing over her, a cocktail extended in her direction. Not a question, a command.

“I’m alright, thank you,” she said flatly.

“I have to celebrate.”

Sighing, and abandoning the book altogether she closed it, sitting it on the table and crossing her arms, looking up at him.

“Come on, It’s one drink,” he winked, and pressed the cocktail into her hands. Up close, she felt like she was seeing him for the first time, rather than just another means to an end for one of Bucky’s missions. Zemo was good-looking, there was no doubt there. Tall, Dark hair, handsome enough to turn heads, but not so chiseled to be unapproachable. She guessed he was maybe ten years her senior, and while she thought being locked up for so long might’ve taken a toll on anyone, there was no trace of it in his features.

Taking it reluctantly, but still not entirely sold, she raised an eyebrow as he slowly sat down next to her. “All right, what’s the occasion?” she asked.

He lifted his drink, and she sighed, shifting her weight so she was facing him, meeting his eyes and lifting her cocktail so it was level with his. “To being a free man.”

They clinked glasses and she took a sip, the bite of the liquor concealed by a sweet and smooth aftertaste. Whatever he’d made her, it was good.

“Temporarily,” she added after a moment, watching him take another sip of his drink.

“What?” he asked, turning to face her.

“You’re only a free man temporarily,” she said.

“Touche,” he answered, one arm stretching over the back of the couch, his hand nearly touching her shoulder. He gave her a devilish grin.

A surprising warmth fluttered in her stomach, and she turned away from him to sip her cocktail. She wasn’t ignorant. After all, she was the only woman in the group, she hadn’t missed his lingering glances and once-overs while they were partying in Madripoor. It would’ve been flattering, but she was probably the first woman he’d seen in years.

They sat in silence for a moment as Zemo leaned back to survey the room. She supposed she hadn’t done a good enough job of appreciating it the first time around, high ceilings, natural light, but just enough privacy to feel cozy and inviting. Another steely sip of liquor passed her lips. She hadn’t had a drink in god only knew how long.

“Tell me, doesn’t this work get exhausting?” his smooth, accented voice cut through the quiet. “Traveling all the time, getting beat up, the lack of sleep, or a routine, following orders…”

She shrugged, pondering a moment. “It’s not so bad. Plus, it’s not like I know anything else.” When she glanced over at him, his eyes were fixated intently on her, but he was unreadable. “I know you think I’m a monster, but I’m just doing what’s right.”

“What you think is right,” he corrected, and before she could bite back, finished his thought. “My people, my family. All gone because of what someone with too much power thought was right.” A sadness flickered across his visage, but disappeared as soon as she could register it.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped, earnest.

“And I don’t think you’re a monster,” Zemo said, shifting his weight so he was facing her dead on, tilting his head to the side and studying her. Something about his gaze felt sharp, like he could see through her. “You aren’t entirely sold on all this, I can see it in your eyes.”

His words cut deep, deeper than she was willing to admit to anyone, even herself. But what was normal? And could she ever be? “What makes you think that?”

“How often do you get to be selfish?” he asked. His robe gaped open a little at the top, revealing a dainty silver chain necklace clasped around his neck with a small charm dangling from it, pale skin and a smattering of chest hair. “When was the last time you got to sit down, relax, enjoy yourself?”

Glancing down at the drink in her hand, feeling slightly vulnerable, she felt a smiling playing at the edges of her lips. “I could ask you the same question.”

“I’m enjoying myself right now,” he said, and she raised her eyebrows. “What, can you blame me? Good whiskey, a beautiful woman by my side.”

Her jaw dropped slightly, holding back a smile. Warmth crept like vines up her neck, pooling in her cheeks. “You should be careful,” she warned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

He leaned closer and she could smell the scent of his aftershave, smoke and musk, heat from the shower still radiating off his body. Maybe the whiskey was getting to her. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as he lifted the drink to meet his lips, pitching his head back to finish off the liquor before discarding the empty glass on the table in front of them.

“Would it be so bad if I was?”

Outside, the sun passed behind a cloud, and the room dimmed ever so slightly, casting shadows that caught along Zemo’s cheekbones, his jawline. The waning light made her all the more aware of how the energy in the room had shifted.

“It’d be unprofessional,” she said, voice low, and he seemed much closer than he’d been before. But he wasn’t the only one closing the gap, she realized she was definitely, inadvertently, meeting him halfway.

“Oh well,” he said, softly. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her eyes adjusted to the light, and up close, he was mesmerizing, deep brown eyes filled with longing. His gaze made her stomach turn, and she knew she should be disgusted but she just couldn’t bring herself to feel anything other than intrigue.

Shaking her head no, she couldn’t find the words to speak. Maybe because she wouldn’t believe any last attempts at protest. Better to save her breath.

The Baron’s hand, cool from the icy glass, rose to cup her cheek, so gentle and tender, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. Frozen, all she could do was breathe slowly as her heart raced. “Zemo-” she began weakly.

“Helmut,” he corrected. “Call me Helmut.”

Y/N gave no answer, unable to remember what she had been protesting when he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

Goosebumps rose along her arms, ears ringing, as he kissed her. The arm he’d been resting on the couch behind her pulled her closer, and her own free hand rose to his neck, letting him take control.

Her lips parted and his tongue traced her bottom lip, deepening the kiss. He groaned into her mouth, the vibration raising every hair on her body. Oh, she knew it was bad, but she hadn’t felt so desired, so wanted in years. Wandering hands lazily slid down his neck, to his shoulders where her fingers pushed underneath the loose neckline of his robe, palms exploring the broad expanse of his chest.

Her skin tingled, every exposed surface aching to be touched, explored by him, and maybe he could tell as his hand left her jaw to coast down her torso, all the way to hook behind her knee and pull her leg across his lap, an invitation to straddle him that didn’t go unnoticed, but she’d need time to decide whether or not she was willing to go that far.

As for exploring, he wasted no time bringing his hand back up her stomach, to hover lightly over the curve of her breast, squeezing gently as to gauge her reaction, a request to continue, and her breath caught in her mouth, her body instinctively pressing against him. His thumb found the peak of her nipple even through the padding of her bra and thin t-shirt.

Her lips parted from his to let out a breathless moan, and his mouth trailed down her neck as her fingers tangled in his hair. His tongue and teeth passed over a particularly sensitive spot, which he discovered when she let out a strangled gasp, and doubled down, sucking and grazing over and over until she finally couldn’t bare it any longer and she pulled away.

Zemo’s face hovered inches from hers, and she wanted to give him some sort of excuse. That this was wrong, they shouldn’t be doing this, but she took in his equally unfastidious appearance and decided not to waste her words on something so cliche. He looked utterly breathtaking.

He didn’t move away, just smiled gently. “How does it feel...to do the bad thing?” he teased.

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that passed her lips, feeling lightheaded and giddy. “Not so bad at all,” She should’ve been enraged, she should’ve wretched herself out of his arms, but she was engulfed in his scent and his comforting presence, unwilling to leave. It wasn’t so terrible to be selfish. It was her who closed the gap between them again.

He smiled against her lips, hand returning to hook behind her knee once more, and this time she obliged, shifting her weight so she could straddle his lap and his hands met both sides of her hips as she cupped his face, fingers in his hair on his shoulders, kissing him with unbridled passion.

She could feel his excitement through the fabric of the robe, and knew she was getting carried away, but every nerve in her body smarted for contact. He was impossibly warm and she couldn’t get enough of it. Rolling her hips forward to tease him, he let out a groan and arched upward. “Oh, liebling, I wish we had more time.”

As if on cue, she heard the scratching of the key in the front doorway, and was immediately jolted from her reverie. Before she knew it she was off the couch and halfway across the room, just as Bucky entered, looking perturbed as always.

“Hey,” she said, turning her back to him and pretending to look out the window, voice unsteady. She heard Helmut clear his throat and shift his weight on the couch.

Busying herself in the kitchen, she let the curtain of her hair fall over the side of her face, hiding her clearly flustered appearance, her face was still impossibly warm, her skin sensitive, lips swollen. “How was your walk?”

“Fine,” Bucky said, and she heard him walking towards her as she absentmindedly pretended to wipe down the countertops. When he brushed past her to use the sink she jumped, finally looking him in the eyes. Bucky frowned. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Staring back at him for a moment she nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“You just seem a little jumpy.”

“There was a spider,” the lie came out so easily, so quickly, that she was actually ashamed of it. “It was big and I….I don’t know where it went.”

Bucky snorted, and whether he believed her or not, didn’t respond. “Where’s Sam?” he asked.

“Out getting dinner,” she said, feeling her heart rate begin to turn back to normal. Bucky washed his hands and shook the excess water off in the basin.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to lie down,” she said after a moment. “The jetlag is catching up to me.”

She turned around and left Bucky in the kitchen, returning to the lounge area where Zemo turned to look over his shoulder. “Allow me to show you to the guest bedroom,” he said, an ornery sparkle in his eyes.

“Fine,” she said flatly, wondering what exactly he was planning and just intrigued enough to resist an argument.

The bedroom was just out of Bucky’s earshot, down a short hallway. As she stepped over the threshold to the awaiting large, inviting bed, a hand on her waist halted her in her tracks.

“I’m not finished with you,” she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, the scent of his cologne overwhelming her senses once more. It took a great deal of control to pull herself away from him, as she turned around and grabbed the doorknob, dragging it towards her. “We’ll see about that,” she said quietly, shutting the door in his face and letting out an exhausted breath. She’d awakened a monster, and now she had no idea what to do about it.

---

PART II out now!

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, please let me know!

2K notes · View notes

wandaromanova · 3 years

Text

Enough

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, failing marriage

A/N: hello! happy reading! <3

anon requested: Wanda x reader where they give her divorce paper because Wanda is always gone and distant

Summary: Even the most unbreakable bonds fall victim to the struggles of marriage.

Word Count: 5.1K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

When you first met Wanda Maximoff, it was under unusual circumstances. You were browsing through a farmer’s market a couple of streets over from your apartment, glancing at various booths as you passed them by. It was a quiet day, the sun was shining down brightly, the heat stifling. You liked to get your groceries from these marketplaces, the fruit and vegetables were fresh and fewer people touched them in comparison to a wholesaler franchise.

You had been stood at one of your favorite fruit stands, warmly greeting the elderly woman who ran the booth and observing some strawberries. Then suddenly, your purse had been snatched from your person. You were startled and caught sight of a man running down, your purse in hand. You intended to run after the thief, but he didn’t get far.

A red glow encased the man, stopping him in his place a couple of feet away from you. Your eyes widened, as did everyone else’s, at the sight. You turned your head over your shoulder and were mesmerized by a brunette woman, eyes red, and her head tilted slightly to the side.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Considering you didn’t live under a rock, you knew exactly who she was; Wanda Maximoff.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You had seen her on the news quite often. She was an Avenger who had unique abilities that surpassed the rest of the group. Your eyes followed Wanda as she walked past you and toward the man who was still trapped by a glow of red. You moved without thinking, following behind her. After all, it was your purse that had been stolen.

“Stealing purses from women? How desperate could you be?” Her Sokovian accent met your ears as you stood back slightly. Wanda tore your purse out of the man’s grip and released him. He looked terrified as he took one glance at the brunette before running in the direction he was originally going in.

Everyone in the marketplace went back to what they were doing while you stood in the middle of the walkway, frozen in place as the Sokovian turned her body around to face you. Television and photos didn’t do her beauty justice; she was captivating.

There was a glow that surrounded her, a silhouette of gold colliding with her brunette locks. Her eyes were emerald with the smallest specks of blue. Her skin was remarkably flawless. You couldn’t help but wonder what her skincare routine was.

Wanda smiled lightly at you, amusement present in her eyes. “I don’t have a skincare routine. I just wash my face with a bar of soap and call it a day.” You blushed profusely at Wanda’s words.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Right… she could infiltrate people’s minds too. How could you forget something like that?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“T-thank you for helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if that dude actually got away with my purse.”

You mentally berated yourself for stuttering. The woman smiled at you and handed you the object, which you hung on your shoulder.

“Don’t mention it.” Wanda spoke dismissively with a wave of her hand. “Is there anything I can do to repay you? Maybe buy you a cup of coffee? There’s a really good cafe a couple of blocks down from here.”

You looked at Wanda hopefully, wanting to thank her for what she had done for you.

The brunette took a pause, contemplating her answer before nodding her head. “I could go for some coffee.”

You smiled brightly and pointed behind you with your thumb. “Well, it’s back that way.” You turned back and began walking, Wanda right beside you.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

You sat in a booth with Wanda sat across from you. The cafe was fairly empty, which you were grateful for. Two cups of coffee were resting on the table, steam rising from the hot liquids.

“What’s an Avenger like yourself doing in a little farmer’s market?” You asked, taking a sip of your coffee as your eyes peered at the brunette over the rim of the mug.

“I always loved farmer’s markets. In Sokovia, my country, they were everywhere. So, I really love coming out to these sorts of places. It reminds me of home.”

You tensed at her words. Everyone knew about the rubble that Sokovia had become, and you felt kind of like an asshole for asking.

“I’m very sorry for what happened to your home.” You spoke sympathetically as you put your mug down gently. Wanda sent you a small smile. “Thank you. It wasn’t the greatest country. We were plagued by poverty, but it was still home.”

The Sokovian looked down to the mug in front of her in thought. You cleared your throat before speaking.

“Well, I know a ton of farmer’s markets in this area. I tend to alternate between them, depending on what I need at home.” Wanda’s eyes moved from her mug and to your own.

“If you want some recommendations, I’m your woman. Not to brag, but I’m kind of a farmer’s market pro.” You brushed off imaginary dust from your shoulders and Wanda let out small giggles at your faux cockiness.

“I would love some recommendations if it means you’ll take me on your shopping trips.”

You raised your eyebrow at her with a smirk. “If you wanted to spend more time with me, you should’ve just said so, Wanda. No need to be so coy.”

Wanda threw her head back, laughing wholeheartedly at your words. You couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself for making her laugh.

“Nah, I don’t want to spend time with you, I just want your street knowledge.” Wanda managed to let out, slowly coming down from her laughing fit.

“Oh! So you want to use me? I mean, let’s be honest... I wouldn’t mind if you did.” You spoke dramatically and Wanda laughed once more.

You smiled as you observed her. Her head was thrown back, cheeks red, and eyes closed as the cutest giggles you’ve ever heard met your ears.

It was then you decided that her laugh was your favorite sound, especially when you were the one to evoke them from the Sokovian.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

Since that day, you guys had exchanged numbers and Wanda had accompanied you shopping once a week. You’d drag the Sokovian by the hand through various markets and give her pointers on which stands sell the best produce. You even introduced her to the vendors, even if they already knew who she was.

It was a wonderful time and afterward, the two of you would grab lunch in random restaurants, conversating over anything and everything. You had to admit, you looked forward to the one day a week you got to spend with Wanda. So, it kinda sucked whenever she couldn’t make it, away on some sort of mission.

However, her absence made her presence all the more special. She took time out of her hectic schedule to hang out with you and roam around carelessly.

Truthfully, you were kind of a nobody, just another number to the extensive population of New York. You were the head chef of a fine-dining restaurant, hence your preference for fresh ingredients at home.

It baffled you that someone of Wanda’s caliber would want to spend time with you, but you definitely weren’t complaining.

As weeks turned into months, you had grown exceptionally close to the Sokovian. You had gone from seeing her once a week to every other day, well, when she wasn’t away for work.

Wanda would come over to your apartment, sipping on some wine as she watched you cook dinner. You figured she was intrigued by your gracefulness in the kitchen, but really, she was just checking you out.

She thought you looked amazing in your little chef apron, your hair pulled back into a ponytail to keep your hair out of your face. However, a few loose strands fell and framed your face perfectly.

“Your hair looks sexy pushed back.” Wanda spoke, pulling you out of your concentration. Your eyes moved upward, staring at the woman who sat on a stool on the opposite side of your kitchen island.

“Did you just quote Mean Girls?” You asked amusedly and the brunette shrugged, a small smile on her face.

“Yes, I did. And what about it?” You rolled your eyes at Wanda’s sassiness. You would continue your task, disregarding her comment as best as you could, trying to ignore how flustered the woman made you.

Once dinner was prepared, the two of you would sit on the couch and choose a random movie on Netflix. Those nights were always filled with commentary and laughter. It was so easy to relax around the Sokovian. Everything seemed to fall into place whenever she was near.

So, it was no surprise when you realized you had feelings for Wanda that surpassed friendship. You had been nervous about revealing how you felt to the woman, but when you finally did, you felt like an idiot for being scared.

“I have feelings for you. Like, I like you a lot.” You anxiously played with your fingers, scared of Wanda’s reaction. She had been sat on your couch right beside you and you couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Hey.” Wanda spoke, gently gripping your chin and forcing you to look at her. “I like you, too.” Wanda giggled when your eyes widened in surprise.

“What? Don’t look so surprised. We’re practically dating already.” You rolled your eyes at the brunette with a smile on your face. The two of you sat there, smiling at each other like idiots, but neither of you seemed to care.

Your feelings weren’t one-sided and a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. After that day of confessions, you and Wanda became official.

Truthfully, not much changed between you two. You guys acted the same way you always did, but now kissing was added to the list of activities you would participate in.

ㅤ Wanda Maximoff is the love of your life; ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ and you would never let her go.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

3 Years Later

You had been dating Wanda for three years and things were going wonderfully. She had moved into your apartment with you. It was amazing, knowing that she would end her days in your bed and you’d wake up with her in your arms the next morning.

However, one morning, you definitely weren’t particularly happy with your girlfriend. She had dragged you out of bed at 5AM and rushed you to get ready. Wanda didn’t tell you where the hell she was taking you at the ass crack of dawn. Each time you asked, she just shushed you.

Thirty minutes later, you walked with Wanda hand-in-hand. You knew the route she was taking and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You remained silent until you made it to your destination, and your suspicions had been confirmed; she had taken you to the farmer’s market closest to your apartment.

The area was completely empty, there were fairy lights strung about and a basket full of strawberries sitting on your favorite fruit stand. The sun was rising and the sky looked immaculate, the sun radiating a blood-orange color, complemented by golden yellow undertones. It was beautiful.

Wanda let go of your hand and moved forward, turning around to face you. It was then that you noticed how anxious she looked. Seriously, it looked like she was about to puke. “What are we doing here? Is everything okay?” Your concern for the Sokovian was evident in your tone.

Wanda gave you the best smile she could muster in her nervous state and nodded her head. “Everything is okay. Wait, scratch that. Everything is more than okay now that I have you in my life.” You smiled at your girlfriend as she took a deep breath.

“Y/N. Do you remember this spot?” Wanda asked you curiously and you nodded your head, a laugh escaping your lips. “Well, of course. We come here like once a month, duh.” The Sokovian shook her head at your words, rolling her eyes playfully.

“No shit, Sherlock. I meant, do you remember the significance of this specific spot?” You instantly nodded your head.

“This is where a random ass dude stole my purse and you scared him with your powers.” You smiled triumphantly while Wanda giggled.

“Well, you’re not wrong, but yeah. This is where we first met.” Wanda let out a shaky breath and you stared at her curiously.

“When I first came to America and joined the Avengers, I was petrified. They say this place is the land of opportunity, but it didn’t feel like that to me.”

The Sokovian began to ramble on, her eyes locked onto yours as you listened intently.

“Coming to America wasn’t a choice that I made, but it was the only option I had. I used to think that I could never find a home in this city, but I was wrong. I found a home. Not with the Avengers or in the Compound where I lived, but in this little market.”

Wanda moved forward, taking a step closer to you and holding both of your hands in her own. “I found you.” Your heart fluttered at her words, heat rising to your cheeks despite the cold morning air.

“I’m so happy that I decided to come here that morning because if I didn’t, I would’ve missed my opportunity to find love.”

Wanda let go of your hands and you instantly missed the warmth. However, your eyes went wide when your girlfriend got down on one knee.

“Y/N, you brought hope and love into my life when I ran out of it. I never thought I would entertain the idea of marriage, but now… it’s all I can think about.”

A loud gasp surpassed your lips, your hands flying up to cover your mouth as Wanda pulled out a tiny red velvet box. She opened it slowly and inside sat a stunning engagement ring with a huge diamond sat on top of it.

“Will you marry me?” Wanda looked up at you hopefully as you stared down at her with tears springing to your eyes.

You instantly nodded your head as a few tears fell down your face. “Yes!” You managed to breathe out and the Sokovian was beaming.

She took your left hand in hers and steadily slid the ring onto your finger before kissing the back of your hand. Wanda stood up hastily and pulled your body into hers by the waist, passionately moving her lips against your own.

It was euphoric. The sunrise encased your figures in a golden hue, the cold atmosphere turning warm from each other’s body heat. You were two women who loved each other dearly, kissing in the middle of a vacant farmer’s market without a care in the world.

ㅤ The promise of forever hung in the air that ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤsurrounded you both; and you were free.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

1 Year Later

A year after your engagement, you and Wanda had gotten married. The ceremony was absolutely gorgeous as you were surrounded by your family and friends. You would never forget the way Wanda teared up as you walked down the aisle, your father by your side.

You recall the small giggles you’d share with Wanda as the two of you stood at the altar. Neither of you could take it seriously, whispering quiet flirtatious remarks to each other. However, your laughs died down when you reached your vows.

“Wanda, you are my hero. Sure, you may save the world from threats for a living, but you do so much more than that. You save me from purse thieves and kill the spiders in my apartment because I’m too scared to go near them.”

Wanda and the audience seated in front of you had laughed at your words. You let out a shaky breath, Wanda sending you a reassuring smile before you continued.

“Whenever I order a burger, you always eat the tomato because you know how much I dislike them. You take care of the tiny cuts I get from work, sometimes being a little too dramatic about my injury.

You looked down at your hands nervously before returning your gaze to the brunette who stood in front of you. The white dress she had on was absolutely gorgeous, complementing her emerald eyes perfectly.

“But you’re always so gentle, you’re always there for me. I promise to do the same for you. I won’t kill the spiders for you, but I’ll be there whenever you need me, even when you don’t. I’ll be on standby anyway.”

You were entranced by the woman who stood in front of you. You weren’t too fond of public speaking, but it was easy when Wanda was with you; everything was easier with Wanda around.

“I’m so grateful for you, Wanda Maximoff. You are the other half of my heart and soul that I didn’t realize was missing, but now that I’ve found you; I never intend on letting you go. Sorry, but you’re stuck with me.”

You ended your vows with a small chuckle. Wanda’s eyes were focused on your own, shining brightly as a smile crossed her features. When her turn came around, you were practically a melted puddle by the end of it.

“Y/N, you are my love. I don’t think you realize just how deeply I love you. I would do anything for you. From fighting off an entire army to letting you eat some of my food even if you said you weren’t hungry.”

The room filled with laughter once more, a blush coming to your cheeks from being called out. Food just tasted better when it wasn’t your own.

“I’ll let you fight your own battles, but I’ll always be there for backup. I promise to you that I will do everything in my power to keep you happy and safe because you are my main priority.. I’ll be anything you need me to be; a best friend, a shoulder to cry on, a protector, a wife. You name it and I’ll be it for you.”

You were a crying mess when Wanda finished her vows. You felt an overwhelming feeling of love consume you. Her words struck a chord within you and just… god damn it, you loved her so much.

After the ‘I do’s,’ you and Wanda kissed as if you were the only people in the room. Honestly, it felt like it at that moment. You had just declared your devotion and unwavering love to one another.

It was the beginning of forever and you couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store for you both.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

2 Years Later

Two years of marriage had been interesting. The first year went flawlessly, it was as if you and Wanda were on a high. It was the most intense and passionate year that the two of you had ever shared. The two of you had purchased a condo together, moving out of your former apartment.

Long nights of love-making that spilled over to the morning, working out together, and spending practically every single minute together possible. Of course, the two of you still had your respective jobs, but that never affected your relationship.

The married life seemed like smooth sailing, but little did you know, there was a thunderstorm not too far ahead. Treacherous waves and destructive lightning were in the near future, you just didn’t know it yet.

Things had started going south at a relatively slow pace. Wanda was progressively assigned to more missions, spending less time at home and an increased amount of time at work. You didn’t let it get to you at the time, it was the way life worked. Wanda was literally a superhero and the world always seemed to need saving.

This went on for several months. Waking up to an empty bed and going to bed the same way. You rarely saw your wife and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t upset you. It was a drastic change from what you were used to. You only saw the Sokovian for an hour or two, every other day.

And when you did see her, your time was filled with arguing over things that neither of you could really remember. There was a sudden halt to all forms of affection, animosity taking its place.

It was particularly bad the night you brought up the topic of Wanda’s presence and the lack thereof.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

You had been lying in bed, your head resting against the headboard as you scrolled through your phone. The sound of the front door opening had caught your attention and you quickly tossed your phone aside and stood up, making your way out of the bedroom.

You were met with Wanda taking off her shoes in front of the door. Her eyes darted up to you, the annoyance that crossed her face had hurt you, not that you would tell her that.

“Hey, you’re back early.” You stated, maintaining a happier tone to avoid an argument. Wanda walked past you and toward the kitchen, opening up the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

She shut the fridge and turned around to look at you. “Why? Did you not want me here? Because I can leave if it’s such a problem.”

You were taken aback by Wanda’s attitude. You spoke one sentence and somehow managed to upset her. It was absurd.

Despite your growing irritation, you remained calm. You hated fighting with your wife and you knew that someone had to be the bigger person.

“No, it’s not a problem at all. I’m glad you’re here. You’ve been gone a lot and I miss you.” You smiled, walking over to your wife who still stood in the kitchen, wrapping your arms around her waist.

However, the brunette grabbed your arms and tore them off her body, whipping around to face you.

She was clearly angry and you didn’t understand how any of what you said could’ve pissed her off. “Yeah, I’m gone a lot because people need me. I can’t drop everything to be with you just because you’re needy as fuck.” Wanda spoke bitterly as she glared at you.

Your chest tightened at her words, flashbacks of your wedding day hitting you. You took a deep breath, gulping to prevent a sob from coming out.

“I thought I was your main priority or did you just make that up for show? To have everyone at our wedding believe that I’m of any importance to you?”

You were getting angry, your voice rose slightly. You felt your blood pressure rising, your body getting hot from your frustration.

“Wanda, I just want to see you more because you’re my wife. It has nothing to do with being needy, seeing you more than an hour or two every few days is a fucking standard in a marriage!”

You took a step back from Wanda as you screamed. You were fed up with being made out to be some clingy person when you were simply being a wife to the Sokovian. She rolled her eyes at you, crossing her arms over her chest as she gazed at you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Well, then maybe our marriage was a mistake.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda spoke without thinking, not caring about anything other than going for the killshot and winning the argument. Her words seemed to have worked as you visibly deflated.

Your anger was replaced with sadness. You let out a dark chuckle at her words, shaking your head before walking into the bedroom slamming the door behind you, and locking it.

Wanda didn’t expect that reaction, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that she had won the argument. She figured she would be sleeping on the couch tonight and she was satisfied with that. You didn’t want to see her and she didn’t want to see you.

So, the Sokovian brought her bottle of water over to the living room, placing it on the coffee table before crashing onto the couch. She got comfortable, closing her eyes as slumber took over her.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

3 Weeks Later

Since the argument, things were the same, but different all at once. Wanda still went on mission after mission, but you had taken up more shifts at the restaurant. You didn’t want to be alone in the condo any longer than you had to be. You needed the extra money anyway.

When you were home, you were silent, no longer bothering to speak to your wife. You were two strangers that occupied a living space together. Wanda’s words played in your head like a broken record. It was all you could think about whenever you’d see her.

The promise of forever hung in the air that surrounded you both; and you were trapped. Your life had become a vicious cycle of tension and avoidance.

Your engagement and wedding felt like an absolute lie now. They always say the first years of marriage are the hardest, but you didn’t think it would be this difficult.

You and Wanda had petty arguments over the six years you two had been together, but they were rare and were usually resolved quickly.

But not this, no, this entire situation was different. You were in a never-ending loop of anger and resentment, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

•❅──────────────── ᗢ ‎‎────────────────❅•

Wanda pulled out her keys and unlocked the door to the condo. She had just gotten back from an emergency meeting with the team. The Sokovian stopped in her tracks as soon as she opened the door.

There you were, sat at the kitchen table. You were leaning back, your arm resting on the table as your hand enclosed around a glass of whiskey. Your bloodshot, red eyes, and the dried streaks of tears that adorned your cheeks were evidence of your crying. Wanda had never seen you so down.

The brunette slowly shut the door behind her, surprised when you spoke. She didn’t think you’d noticed her presence, your eyes trained on the glass in your hand. “We need to talk.”

Wanda nodded her head at your words and slowly approached the table. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she saw a stack of papers on the table.

Wanda sat down across from you and finally, you looked at her. The Sokovian’s heart clenched as you stared at her emotionlessly. You downed the entire glass of alcohol, not even wincing at the burn, but welcoming it. You put the glass down and cleared your throat before speaking.

“Wanda, I love you so much, but we can’t keep living like this.” Your voice was hoarse, a result of your earlier crying and the beverage you had just ingested. Wanda stared at you in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” The Sokovian felt fear slowly creeping in. She didn’t have a good feeling about this.

“Oh, come on. You know what I’m talking about. We act like we don’t even know each other anymore. We aren’t even wives anymore, we’re just two people who live together.” You didn’t have the energy to yell anymore, your voice was soft and calm.

Wanda still didn’t understand the direction this conversation was going in. Nothing could’ve prepared her for your next words.

“I visited a lawyer and hired him. He was going to give you these, but I decided to do it myself.” You sat up and pushed the papers across the table. “I’m officially serving you with divorce papers.”

Wanda’s heart stopped as she comprehended your words. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Wha- what? A divorce? Please tell me you’re joking.” Wanda looked down at the papers and back up to you in utter disbelief.

“I wish I was joking, but I’m not. I want a divorce.” You were eerily calm, maintaining your composure while Wanda felt like she was going to crumble to pieces at any given moment.

“Is this about my missions? If it is, I’ll ask Steve to relax my workload. I’ll be around more often and I’ll stop being an asshole. Just, please don’t do this. I’ll make it right, I promise.” Wanda leaned forward and reached out for your hand pleadingly, but you didn’t let her.

You pulled your arm off of the table and shook your head. “Wanda, you shouldn’t have to make it up to me in the first place. It shouldn’t take a divorce for you to finally act like a proper wife. I’m not changing my mind.” You spoke firmly, but Wanda refused to accept your words.

The Sokovian abruptly stood up, the loud sound of her chair scraping against the floor filled the room.

“So, that’s it? You’re just gonna give up on everything we have? You’re gonna throw in the towel because things are a little rough right now? You’re a fucking coward, Y/N!”

Wanda was enraged as you stared at her unimpressed. Her chest was heaving as she glared at you. “This is exactly why this needs to happen. We can’t have one conversation without someone yelling.” You stood up slowly, rounding the table and making your way to the front door.

Wanda watched your every move like a hawk. You reached for your purse that hung beside the door and flung it over your shoulder before turning around to face the Sokovian. “I suggest you get a lawyer as well.” You spoke simply and turned back around, your hand on the doorknob.

Something in Wanda went off, seeing you about to walk out had raised alarms in her mind. You were really leaving her. The brunette moved without a single thought, rushing over to you as you pulled the door open. She gripped your wrist tightly, causing your head to turn back to her, a sad expression on your face.

“Please don’t leave me. I love you and you love me. Does that not mean anything to you anymore?” Wanda’s anger dissipated to desperation. She stared at you right in the eyes, begging you to stay. Pleading you not to put an end to your marriage.

“Our love means the absolute world to me, Wanda. But sometimes… love just isn’t enough.”

You smiled sadly at the Sokovian before gently pulling her hand off of your wrist. It was kinda difficult considering how firm her grip had been, but you managed.

You walked out and all Wanda could do was sit there and watch as you walked down the hall and away from all of the memories you had made together. You never thought that your marriage with the brunette would come to an end, let alone an ugly one.

But your marriage had become toxic, slowly feeding away at any sort of happiness you had left. It was a painful decision to come to; a divorce, but it felt like the right one. The Sokovian was right, you did love her; which is why you needed to put an end to the torture.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ Wanda Maximoff is the love of your life; ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ but you had to let her go.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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farfromharry · 3 years

Text

Who would’ve thought | Frat!Tom

Summary: Who would’ve thought that the frat boy with the concerning reputation would actually be a big softie with a thing for romance? All it took was the right girl.

Word count - 3,705

Warnings - drinking, mentions of throwing up, language

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

Tom Holland, the ultimate frat boy of the campus.

You first heard about him through people in your classes, the classes you were meant to share with him if he were to ever show up. He was considered cocky, a little bit of a whore, and didn’t have a care for anyone who he wasn’t A, trying to sleep with or B, wasn’t a part of his frat.

You didn’t expect good things at all when meeting him for the first time, so that dreaded day when you got your new seating arrangements for the rest of the term and you just so happened to be sitting next to the frat boy himself, was unfortunately also the first day he showed up to your criminology class.

He showed up in a rather casual outfit, nothing too out of the ordinary. A dark blue hoodie with a matching cap sitting backwards on his head. When he turned his head to the side you could see the accent of small brunette curls sticking out of the back of his hat, accentuated by his sharp jawline.

He took one look at the seating chart and you saw, even from your spot near the back, the way his eyebrows drew together in confusion. He had no idea who you are.

You left him to work it out on his own, not wanting to be that girl who made a fool of herself in front of the infamous frat boy.

It didn’t take long until you felt his presence beside you, forcing yourself not to look. He cleared his throat, drawing your attention to him and missing the way you cursed yourself for giving in so easily.

“Are you Y/N?” You nodded your head and you could almost see the breath of relief he let out.

Tom took a seat next to you with a small smile. You assumed he was just trying to get on your good side to ask you for answers or borrow your notes, something he’d need for missing so much of the class work. “I’m Tom,” he said, deep voice unwillingly making your stomach fill with butterflies.

He held out his hand for you to shake, a crooked smile on his lips as he waited for you to respond. “Y/N.” The second your hand touched his, the boy was convinced he had to get to know you better, something about your shy persona intriguing him. “But, you already knew that,” you laughed nervously.

He thought your nerves were cute, the corners of his eyes creasing from how hard he was smiling. He slid into the seat next to you, the boy mentally debating how he was going to go about this. Tom wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t think you were gorgeous because he was definitely slightly taken aback by you when you first looked at him with those doe eyes, so he didn’t want to ruin things before they’d even started.

“So, you probably know I haven’t been to a single one of these classes,” he said. You laughed, nodding your head. He felt his own lips twitching into a smile when he heard the angelic sound. “Are they really as bad as everyone says?”

You hummed as you thought about it, taking a few seconds. In that time Tom was fully taking advantage, his eyes raking over your face admirably, taking a mental note of all your different features. You tried not to let your nerves get to you when you noticed. “They’re definitely as bad as people say.”

He groaned, catching the eyes of a few different people around you both that made you sink into your seat awkwardly. He laughed it off, finding it amusing how easy it was to get you all flustered, deciding he would be using that with his flirting tactics from then on.

“Let’s hope you make them better then,” he mumbled, biting his lip to contain the smirk threatening to overtake his face. You didn’t respond but he could see from his peripheral vision that you shifted nervously in your seat.

Tom wasn’t sure if he was also getting flustered while talking to you or if he was subconsciously thinking showing off his physique would somehow catch your interest like it had done countless times before with the other girls on campus. But either way, he pulled the cap off of his head, lazily running his fingers through his curls for a second.

You glanced over when you saw his hands go to the hem of his hoodie, watching with the tip of your pen between your teeth as he began to peel the material off of his body.

You almost choked when you saw the grey, cotton shirt slip up and expose the bottom of his abdomen, hard muscles and a sliver of his underwear peeking through.

He placed the hoodie on the back off his chair once it was completely off, exposing the tight, plain grey shirt that clung to every ridge and muscle.

He heard your shaky inhale and couldn’t stop the smirk that crept onto his face, shooting you a single glance before he turned his head back to the front of the class.

You’d expected Tom to be a lot more distracting, seeing as he was quick to start up conversation with you earlier, but to your surprise he actually seemed to be paying attention.

This class flew by much quicker than the all the other ones, and you weren’t sure whether that was due to your thoughts being cloudy by the pretty boy next to you.

“Do you maybe want to come to a party next week?” he asked. You were taken off guard, your eyebrows raising as you packed away your stuff.

“I, um-“ He could see your internal conflict, interrupting before you had the chance to reject his offer.

“You don’t have to, of course, but if you do-“ He tore the corner off of a sheet of paper in his notebook, scribbling down the address of the frat house that you were sure you’d be able to find without his help. “Here’s the address, and there’s my number.”

His lips curved into a smirk as he handed you the scrap of paper, your fingertips brushing and creating another wave of butterflies for you.

“Uh, thank you. I’ll be sure to consider it.” You didn’t want to give him a final answer right now because you weren’t much of a party girl. You’d much rather stay in but as soon as your roommate got word she’d definitely be making it her mission to get you to that party.

“I look forward to maybe seeing you there.” He gave you a fake salute and turned to walk away, one hand holding the strap of his bag and the other carrying his discarded hoodie. When he reached the door of the classroom he gave you one last look over his shoulder, throwing you a wink before he was gone.

»»——⍟——««

The week had passed and you still hadn’t used Tom’s number at all, and he didn’t have yours to text you first, so he just has to wait. The man had no idea if you really were coming or not. It was unusual for him but he was nervous and his friends were starting to notice. Harrison had seen how Tom took a little extra time to get ready for tonight, pointing it out to Tom’s younger brother who brushed it off as him trying to pull another girl, and he wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Who are you waiting for, mate?” the blonde asked, placing his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. Tom sighed, checking the watch on his wrist one more time, assuming that you weren’t showing up.

“A girl from my criminology class, but doesn’t look like she’s gonna show.” The younger of the two just shrugged his shoulder, encouraging his friend to finish his drink and go get another one with him. “Just enjoy your night mate, with or without her,” he said, lightly punching his shoulder in a friendly way before disappearing into the crowd. Tom nodded even as he walked away, quietly mumbling to himself, with or without her.

That mindset was gone as soon as he saw you. His entire face practically lit up as he spotted you coming through the front door of the house, politely pushing your way through a group of people who were blocking the entrance.

He was by your side in seconds, people moving out of his way as if he was a God, and you had to admit you were a little grateful because it definitely made it easier to move.

“You came,” he cheered, boldly linking his fingers with yours and dragging you straight to the kitchen. He could tell just from the way your hand subconsciously tightened around his every time someone so much as cast their eyes your way that you were nervous, if you were being honest you didn’t really want to be here.

“Yeah, um, my roommate,” you poorly explained, pursing your lips together. He nodded in understanding, giving you a quick run down on the drinks the frat house had on offer.

He was only slightly surprised when you turned them all down, shyly asking if you could have water instead.

“Thank you,” you muttered, your eyes roaming around the kitchen. This was one of the more less crowded areas of the house, and even then you could barely breathe from the wave of people filtering in and out every few minutes to get more drinks.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out you weren’t enjoying the party. Even with his efforts of getting you to loosen up, Tom could still see the traces of a frown on your lips and your stiff posture. He took a step closer to you, placing his hand lightly on your lower back, your eyes flickering to him to see what he was up to. He leaned down to your ear so you could hear him better, more or less having to shout for you to hear his words over the booming music.

“D’you want to get out of here?” he asked, gulping down the remainder of his beverage from the solo cup. Your eyes widened at the suggestive comment and you would’ve been disgusted if he hadn’t jumped in so quickly after the words left his mouth to correct his meaning. “Not like that, no, I meant um-“

This was the first time you’d seen him nervous, and you found it quite adorable the way his cheeks turned a light shade of pink; although that could’ve easily just been from the alcohol or the heat of the room.

“I meant, you don’t look like you’re having fun, and as my guest it’s my job to make sure you are.” His words didn’t sound any better in your head, but he clearly thought they did in his drunk one.

“What are you saying, Tom?”

“Do you want to go on a walk with me or something?” You smiled softly, thinking over your options quickly. Either stay in this dreadful party with the couples making out and drunk idiots running about the place, or go get some fresh air with a very cute and surprisingly polite frat boy.

It was safe to say your mind was quickly made up. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He linked your fingers together so it’d be easier to lead you through the crowd, throwing out his cup on the way.

Stepping outside the front door of the house you were hit with a wave of very cooling fresh air. You felt your body heat immediately cool down, a nice and very different sensation from the heat inside the party.

You still didn’t seem to be away from drunken idiots, Tom letting out a groan when he noticed some kids throwing up on the grass outside the house. Your face screamed disgust but you couldn’t help but laugh at him anyway.

He led you away from the house, muttering something about how he was going to leave that to someone else to clean up.

You didn’t even realise that you were still holding hands until Tom subconsciously squeezed yours when he felt you shiver from the sudden breeze.

You cleared your throat, nervously pulling your hand away and shooting him a tight lipped smile. You could see him frown slightly and with a small accepting nod he slipped his hand back in his pocket.

“So, why did you suddenly decide to show up to class?” you asked, a little out of the blue as you strolled side by side down the path in the empty park. Tom didn’t really have a good answer, it was either show up or completely fail the class and he wasn’t prepared to get yelled at by his mother for failing yet another class; but that didn’t sound like a cool thing to tell the girl he was trying to impress.

“Maybe I heard there was a really pretty girl in there who could use my attention,” he flirted, bumping his shoulder against yours. You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath for him to stop being so cheesy.

You didn’t understand why he’d taken such a sudden interest in you. It’d only been a week since you’d met but even in such a short time Tom had found himself infatuated with you, but not in a creepy way.

“Why did you invite me, Tom?” The question had been lingering in the front of your mind for days, and unfortunately you just had to ask now.

You both came to a stop, turning to face each other as you peered at him curiously. You saw Tom’s cheeks flush, the close proximity of your faces allowing you to see every small detail of the way his blush overtook his cheeks and nose.

“Just full of questions aren’t you?” he nervously laughed. The question was rhetorical of course, buying him time to come up with an answer. He took a deep breath, pursing his lips together awkwardly. “I like you. I know we only met last week but I-“

You could feel your heart stop for a moment, needing time to comprehend what he’d just said to you. “There’s something about you Y/N, and I’d really like to get to know you better.”

Your silence didn’t seem like good news to Tom. He let himself get ahead of the situation completely, his heart sank into his stomach and he was bracing himself for your rejection.

“Tom, is this some kind of joke?” you asked, convinced this couldn’t have been real. The big frat boy with the bad reputation wanting to go out with you?

“No, no of course not. Y/N, just give me a chance,” he begged, taking your hands in his gently. His thumbs stroked circles over the skin on the back of each of your hands, his eyes watching you full of hope.

“Come on, one date. If you hate it you don’t even have to talk to me ever again,” he offered. You cocked your head, your eyebrows drawing together in a way Tom thought was cute.

“Really?”

He tried to backtrack. “Well, no. That’d suck for me if you did. But you get the point.”

You let out a small laugh, looking up at the pair of soft brown eyes that were waiting for hopefully a good answer.

“Fine. One date can’t hurt.” He cheered silently, leaning down to place a cheeky kiss on your cheek that left you stuttering nervously.

“You won’t regret it.”

»»——⍟——««

It was many weeks before you actually gave into Tom for a second date. At first it was just dates, which from what you’d heard were out of the ordinary for him in general, but then somehow it progressed into a beautifully blossoming relationship, if you do say so yourself.

You were scared at first that he was going to fall back into that fuckboy role, or like in the movies he was going to be embarrassed about being seen with you, but it was the complete opposite.

He couldn’t tell enough people that you were dating. When dragging you along to parties it was always, have you met my girlfriend Y/N?, or an arm thrown around your shoulder with lots of kisses placed all over your face and neck to let people know you were taken.

Cute little picnic dates became surprisingly very common when you and Tom finally made things official. All your friends told you that they’d never known Tom to be this involved with a girl, because he didn’t normally waste his time taking his pursuits on dates.

The first time showed up at your door with a picnic basket and flowers in hand you were honestly shocked. He’d told you he was taking you somewhere because of the nice weather but it didn’t even cross your mind.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, watching you set the flowers down on your counter. You turned around with a playful eye roll at the way he was rushing you.

“Go where?” you giggled, slipping your hand in his outstretched one. He placed his lips on yours softly, drawing an unintentional grin from you. “‘m taking you on a picnic, want to enjoy the weather with my girl.”

From that day on it was almost a weekly thing, but it was also the thing that let you know Tom was serious about your relationship and wasn’t just planning on breaking your heart.

You and Tom had been in a comfortable silence for a while now. He believed you were reading the book you brought with you, so he didn’t want to interrupt. He chose instead to just look around at your surroundings, watching other people laugh and have fun in the field that sat in front of the university.

Little did he know you’d actually been admiring him for the last ten or so minutes. You stared at the way his jaw clenched every few seconds, making his jawline look even more prominent than it was. The way his curls so effortlessly fell into a perfect position on his head, and the way his biceps would bulge in the tight black shirt every time he would fix his hair after a slight gust of wind blew it into his face.

You snapped out of your daze when you noticed he was talking to someone, wondering if it was you. That was when you noticed a group of lads that were in the same frat as Tom, teasing him about how whipped he was for you.

“Fuck off,” Tom groaned, flipping them all off as they chuckled. They eventually gave up, running away snickering at the rise they’d managed to get from their clearly irritated friend.

“‘M sorry about them,” he said, gently running the back of his hand over your cheek. You nuzzled closer to it for a moment, providing him with a split second of affection before you were back to your book.

All the teasing left you thinking, Tom noticing the way you were chewing on your bottom lip, something he’d noticed you did often when you were deep in your head.

“‘s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asked, brushing some hair out of your face. You sighed softly, locking eyes with your boyfriend.

“Who would’ve thought?” you mumbled, barely catching his ears from how quiet it was. He hummed in confusion, having no idea what you were referring to until you’d decide to finish your sentence.

You rolled over onto your stomach, inevitably rolling off of Tom’s lap. You pushed yourself up to your knees, hands on either side of Tom’s legs as you got close to his face with your own.

His hand shifted from his lap to cup your cheek, a small grin forming on his face as the man admired how beautiful you were up close. He was almost too distracted by your features, and those sparkling eyes looking at him to even comprehend the words coming out of your mouth, but luckily he caught them anyway.

“Who would’ve thought that the king of the frat, the biggest playboy on campus, whore if you will,” you exaggerated, lips curling into a grin. “Was secretly a big softie.”

His heart fluttered slightly but he scoffed at your beginning words, feigning offence at the names you’d labelled him with. “I can be romantic,” he whined, trying his best to defend himself.

You hummed, pretending to think about it to tease him even further. He huffed, happily forgetting his pouty mood with a few soft, short kisses from you.

“I’m kidding,” you whispered, slotting your lips together again in a sweet kiss. “Better be,” he grumbled, rubbing his thumb across your temple lovingly.

“Even if you are a whore, you’re still my favourite whore,” you teased, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to hold back your giggle. You saw him roll his eyes, his hand playfully pushing your head away from him until you were once again laying back in his lap.

“You’re so mean to me,” he complained, nudging you with the knee that you were laying on. You chuckled quietly, nuzzling your head against his stomach, your arms snaking around his waist.

“I love you though,” you whispered, feeling as though a massive weight had been lifted off of you. That was the first time either of you had said those words. You hadn’t been dating long, and part of you was still scared he wasn’t serious about this, but god did it feel good to say out loud.

Tom was shocked, staring down at you with his mouth agape. He felt butterflies exploding in his stomach and he realised he should probably say something before you start to overthink, something you were very good at.

“Yeah?” he asked, just making sure. You nodded your head, tightening your grip around your boyfriend’s torso, almost like you were afraid he’d run away.

“I-I love you too,” he announced, feeling your entire body relax against his. “Even if you do think I’m a whore.”

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