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randomshyperson · 4 months

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Borrowed - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Wanda develops the habit of stealing your clothes, and you develop the habit of fucking her wearing them.

Warnings: (+18), bottom!Wanda (a bit bratty), established relationship, slightly of power dynamics, dry humping/clothed for a bit, oral (w), fingering (w), strap on (w), some dirty talking, a bit overstimulation. | Words: 2.289k

A/N-> This is actually an old idea, someone on Tumblr, not sure who, wrote an image about Wanda using our favorite hoodie, and I actually love all fics that have this dynamic so I decided to do a small fic about it.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

-&-

You were starting to think you were being robbed.

It was a plausible conclusion, considering how rarely you were out of uniform and the very few moments when you had the freedom to wear more comfortable clothes, and how quickly your sweatshirts disappeared from your closet.

With a frustrated sigh, and your hair still damp from the shower, you stared at the empty drawer for a long, reflective moment, trying to find solutions to the disappearance of all your hoodies.

Even after checking the other drawers, the laundry basket and even the compound's laundry room, you had no success. You were forced to make your way back to your rooms with your arms shivering from the cold, and a disappointed expression on your little mission.

Instead of returning to your room, however, you skipped to the next door, hoping to talk to your girlfriend and ask her if she had any idea where you'd forgotten your coats.

To your surprise, the answer came the same second your eyes met the figure distracted by a sitcom on the television; right there on the bed was Wanda, wearing nothing but your favorite hoodie that wasn't even the right size - nothing surprising when one steals clothes from a super soldier - but which she seemed to be making good use of.

"Wanda!" Your exclamation of surprise made her take her eyes off the DVD immediately. At first, she thought you were just saying hello, and smiled in your direction. But your face frowned and it was her turn to look at you curiously. "I can't believe you."

She makes a quick assessment of the facts in the seconds it takes for you to close the door and approach the bed; she doesn't reckon to have done anything wrong. You two spoke earlier, you even had a heated and inappropriate make-out session in the garage when you arrived, and she had dinner next to you before you left the living room to take a shower. No arguments, no news she forgot to tell you.

But you chuckled incredulously at the cluelessness on her face, and occupying the field of view between the bed and the television, you commented;

"I'm quite cold, you know that?" Wanda grinned in relief at your phrase. She doesn't have time to tease you about being clingy. You slowly lean your body towards her, effectively pinning Wanda to the mattress as you hover over her. All Wanda can do is sigh in anticipation, and her stomach feels already full of butterflies.

"I can warm you up." She lets out an inviting sigh, but although your eyes take on a darker hue, you smirk and extend the distance again. Wanda bites her lip, trying to hold back a complaint fearing that you would torment her and make her beg for it, but you take your hands off the mattress and place them on her waist.

With gentle tugs on the sweatshirt, you comment; "I'm sure you can, darling. You look quite warm."

Another gentle tug on the fluffy fabric and Wanda understood. She didn't look the least bit guilty about being caught, though. Adjusting herself comfortably on the bed, she gave you the most innocent smile she could manage.

You pulled the hoodie up just a few centimeters, biting your lip at the thin lace panties that were the only thing separating her intimacy from your thigh now.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" You ask, your hands moving under your hoodie, teasing her skin with gentle touches that make Wanda strangle on her own breath.

She quickly denies it with a nod, but when your fingers give a warning tug to her nipples, she squeals audibly.

"S-sorry!" She panted aroused, her shaky legs trying to force you down. But your body stands firm above her, and the difference in strength never fails to leave her frustrated and terribly wet. "I just... like them. Smells like you." She confesses, hoping that her sincerity is enough for you to forgive her and help her with the throbbing between her legs.

You hum distractedly, your palms leisurely playing with her breasts under the hoodie until you turn Wanda into a whining mess underneath you.

Your firm thigh between her legs also serves as a torturous stimulation - even for you, it's hard to keep up the slow, teasing pace while you have the deliriously hot, wet sensation of Wanda's pussy rubbing against your skin. When you catch a bead of sweat running down her forehead from all the teasing, you chuckle wickedly.

"Wow, I bet this one is starting to bother you." Your hands come out to tug the hoodie down, and Wanda grunts softly, offering begging eyes to you. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Are you hot?"

She nods almost shyly, a little guilt finally slipping through her irises. Not for the act of stealing your clothes, but for the fact that she was caught and will be punished for it.

You smile, your hands settling back on the mattress so that you can lie on top of her, without wasting time to break the distance between your faces now.

Wanda moans as soon as she feels your tongue on hers, so hungry and experienced, stealing the air from her lungs and making her see stars. She struggles to match the intensity of the kiss, very much because you allow her to use your thigh as she pleases, and she is feverishly grinding herself back into your skin in search of relief of the hot knot in her lower belly. You stop kissing her when she can only return breathy moans to your lips, and decide to mark the skin of her collarbone while Wanda builds up her own orgasm, her eyes closed and her nails digging into your now shivering arms for another reason.

It's definitely too hot - The padded hoodie is uncomfortable as the liquid arousal courses through her veins and her body jerks, but every time Wanda makes an attempt to pull the item off her, strong hands push the garment back into place. Until finally you grab her wrists and prevent further attempts while holding her firmly.

You bite her lobe also panting against her neck next, as you let her move her hips at will. When Wanda starts to pant a little heavier than before, you can tell that she is close.

"Are you really gonna come, baby? I never got to take your panties off."

She opens her mouth to tell you to go ahead and take them off, but the teasing alone pushes her over the edge, and what escapes her is a throaty moan. Her body stiffens under yours, and her eyes roll back before she goes limp. You release her wrists, pulling your knee away from her over-stimulated cunt, and watch your girlfriend's satisfied, breathless expression for a moment.

When your face comes into focus again, Wanda smiles as she realizes that you were also stroking her sweaty hair out of her face.

"Hey." She greets you first, her body still twitching and tingling with pleasure. "Are you really mad about the hoodie?"

You giggle, denying it with a nod before kissing her. It's chaste because she's still trying to get back into orbit and there's no scene more beautiful to behold than Wanda Maximoff blushing in the aftermath of an orgasm.

"You can steal my clothes all you want." You assure her meekly, before sliding your hands back under the fabric. "Just keep in mind that I will want to fuck you in every one of them."

Wanda bites back a smile, sighing as she feels your fingers reach her sides to pull down her ruined panties. She swallows dryly as she realizes that you're lowering your body as well.

"I'm counting on it, darling." She murmurs quietly, hoping you won't pick up on her secret intentions. But of course you do, and let out a husky giggle against her thigh that makes Wanda sigh. "I meant-"

"Oh, I heard you well." You interrupt her, scratching your teeth into her skin and making Wanda twitch in anticipation, the muscles in her spread legs flexing. She risks looking down, only to meet your dark eyes and wince under your gaze. "How bad do you want me to fuck you, Wanda?"

She swallows dryly, her trembling hands trying to grab onto the sheets but everything is so hot and uncomfortable inside that hoodie that Wanda thinks if she doesn't undress soon she might collapse.

"Please." She mewls, her hips thrusting up towards your face. "I need you." She baits you so easily that you ignore the fact that you were trying some form of punishment. Wanda throws her head back on the pillow harshly as you nuzzle her drenched intimacy, the evidence of her last, almost embarrassing quick climax glistening in your direction. You kiss her thighs, teasing your way until she's whimpering again and you finally think you've had enough. Your tongue isn't gentle, Wanda hasn't behaved well in recent weeks as a naughty brat appearing in shorter and shorter skirts every time you need to leave the compound for a mission, or disturbing your meals and workouts with vivid images of all the other activities you could be doing that always involve her ruined beneath you.

So you're not gentle. You eat her out like your last meal, licking all over her previous climax before sucking her little clit and sinking your face between her legs, your strong hands holding her legs wide open as her body betrays her and tries to escape the pacing. The next orgasm overtakes her without any difficulties, and you haven't even fingered her yet when Wanda pours herself out for the second time that night. She's still whimpering when one of your hands lets go of her bruised thigh so that your fingers can sink into her pussy and Wanda hears the sheet rip in her palm as she tries to find some ground.

She also grabs a fistful of your hair, panting as you raise your eyes to her, your fingers in frantic rhythm inside her pussy. Breathless, she tries to hold your gaze as she risks to guide your movements:

"Yes, darling. Just like that."

But you raise an eyebrow, and Wanda only has time to blink before all your movements are interrupted. You steal one orgasm from her as quickly as you start to build another; your hands spin her around on the bed and Wanda finds herself with her face pressed against the pillow and your body on top of hers. The rub of a familiar hardness against her ass makes her whine in need.

"It's cute when you think you're in charge." You whisper, filthily licking her neck and eliciting a loud moan from the witch. With her panties long discarded on the bedroom floor, you have no trouble pulling your rubber cock out of your pants and forcing it between Wanda's spread legs. She almost screams at the unannounced intrusion, but with the wetness of the last few orgasms, the toy slides in with ease. You pant softly as you bottom up. With your mouth inches from her ear, your hips begin a slow, steady rhythm inside her as you whisper; "It's your favorite, Wands. I left everything ready so I could fill you up just the way you like it." She whines into the pillow, clutching your fake cock tightly enough that you need to push a little harder to move. You kiss behind her ear before moving one of your hands to her tit again. Wanda's skin is burning under the warm clothes. "I put it on as soon as I got out of the shower." You let her know as you thrust deep inside her. "You really don't need to steal my clothes, baby. Hoodie or no hoodie, I would have fucked you tonight."

She comes harder than before this time, and with her impossibly tight, you don't see any point in holding back. Wanda is still coming when you fill her, the hot spurt inside her walls prolonging her climax and turning her into a babbling mess on the mattress.

You take pity on her. You pull your cock out of her fucked-up pussy, biting your lips at the sight of the leaking cum coming out of her before focusing on removing the sweaty, cum-soaked hoodie from your girlfriend's body.

Wanda tries to fight the exhaustion of three orgasms in a row, but she can barely keep her eyes open. It's been a long week.

You grip the rubber cock, adjusting your hips and rubbing the toy against Wanda's folds again, making her whine in protest, one of her hands desperate to grab your wrist and keep you out.

You hum attentively, although you don't penetrate her, you let the dildo slide on top of her clit, enjoying the way Wanda struggles to keep still.

"Had enough?" You ask even though you're able to watch her pussy clenching desperately at the emptiness, her body instinctively begging for more. Wanda gasps, her hips trying to buck away from the overstimulation only for her to end up rubbing against the bed during the attempt and eliciting a pathetic whimper from herself.

"Five." She gasps breathlessly. "Five minutes."

Your hips move away, and you stand up to remove your clothes while Wanda twitches and tries to catch her breath again on the bed.

She reacts immediately to the lack of your warmth against her, seeking your presence by turning her head. An exchange of glances is enough to let you know that she just needs the time it takes for you to get the handcuffs from the bottom drawer.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff oneshots #wanda maximoff smut

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 2 months

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Allure

Part One:Sunshine

❥MATZ x fem reader

Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa. The most known and feared alphas of the new generation. It took two dozen elder alphas to subdue them and stick them in the world's most secluded prison- hidden away in the mountains. The prison that sweet little omega (Y/n)'s works at.

Knuckle Velvet (Part Two)

Smoke (Part Three)

➯a/n: i've always wanted to write a story i would like to see as a movie or show, and i very much enjoy supernatural and dark romance, so i made this ! it does get very dark so please read the warnings and take care of yourself first and foremost. i am very proud of this, i hope you enjoy 💕

✃ "Because you're... alluring."

✫彡wordcount: 9.3k

♫"Hey, you should leave that young thing alone, ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness everyday." - Flower Face (original by Bill Withers) ♫ Allure Sountrack

(>ᴗ•)♡´･ᴗ･`♡genre: smut, YANDERE, a/b/o au

ಠ_ಠWARNING/content: DEAD DOVE I MURDERED THAT BIH

chapter specific: literally what have i done, not beta read(ironically), criminal MATZ, alpha MATZ/omega reader, forget everything you know about werewolves, so much world building, extremely yandere behavior, talk of attempted child murder, class division of werewolves, panic attacks, vulgar language, mind control, lots of scent stuff, unhealthy relationships, ptsd, flashbacks and nightmares, physical violence, manipulation of others dreams, supporting character death, forced soul bonding, forced marking, reader implied to have mental health issues, murder, gore, violence- all that good stuff. THIS IS NOT A NON CON FIC ALL EVENTUAL SMUT WILL BE CONSENSUAL.

⁂perm taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

⁂fic taglist: @potatomountain @spooo00oky

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE ˚➶ ｡˚

You hate weekdays. That much is true for a lot of people. You like to think your reasoning is especially valid.

Every Monday through Friday like clockwork, 6:30AM you walk into the prison. That on its own wasn't so bad. You lived only ten minutes away; the gothic building looked over your village in tandem with the mountains. You could see it when the weather was clear, even from your bedroom on the edge of town. You were no longer afraid of it like when you were a child.

You are, however, afraid of the newest prisoners.

New arrivals didn't usually rock you. This is the only prison in the country fit to hold lycans, after all. They all got transferred here eventually. From beta's who were just stealing to eat, to alphas who used their powers on humans, to those who believed in the old ways and fed on humans.

You had to interact with them all face to face.

You weren't excited for that particular aspect of your job this week.

You made your way through the double doors and greeted the security guard, your friend Hyolyn, as you went through the metal detector. It went off on account of the scent blocker that was embedded in your neck. She chuckled and switched it off so it stopped its incessant beeping.

"Don't laugh at me!" You threw a smile her way as you got your small purse from the plastic bucket she slid towards you. She doesn't bother to check your bag. She knows you well enough to know you wouldn't bring in any "fuck shit", as she would say. "You alpha's don't have to worry about accidentally spewing scent everywhere."

"Thank goodness for that, this place would stink to high heaven." Her unintentional reference to the new arrivals makes the air turn stiff. She could tell you were on edge immediately. "They aren't all that scary," she lays a comforting hand to your shoulder as you fiddle with the long strap on your crossbody bag.

"I heard one of them killed Alpha Greene... you think that's true? That guy was huge, I saw him at The Thing last year, I almost peed myself cause he looked at me-" You stop your own rambling, taking a deep breath and letting it out as a shaking sigh. "I don't want to go in there. Honestly, why can't we install a laundry chute or something, fuck."

"I'll follow you up, I c-"

"No, no, it's visiting day. You need to be down here. You know Chungha? Her daughter is visiting today. Don't want you to miss her." You offer a sad, tight lipped smile, but that doesn't trick her instincts to protect her weaker pack member. She knows you too well to be tricked.

"You just scream and I'll be there. Either of those cocky fucks lift a pinky in your direction and I'll gut them. They don't deserve to see a trial anyway."

A small exhale in the form of a chuckle lightens her protective instincts, she can tell you feel more at ease with her promise to be right there at the slightest hint of trouble.

"See you, Hyolyn."

"Later, babes."

You wave your fingers with a smile as the elevator doors slides shut. As soon as they clunk together, you let it fall and crouch with your head in your hands, taking in deep and slow breaths as you try and force all of the rumors you've heard about the two newest inmates away from your head.

The older alpha of the duo was the first born in this generation. They're always powerful. But he was born to two bloodthirsty rouges. Born in sin and blood lust.

The younger alpha was born just some months after, to an arranged marriage that was purposefully formed to make powerful children. They surely regret that now. Some say the man has the strongest, sharpest claws since the first lycan in Talbot Castle.

When the elevator dings, you're already upright and have that strong facade on that you put on when you're clocked in.

˚➶ ｡˚

You start with the familiar. "Hey, Chungha," you tap on the silver bars of her cell, "hand 'em over." She smiles as she stands, stripping the sheets from her cot and holding them through the bars for you. "Thank you," you draw on with a tug on your lips that matches hers.

"Yunnie in town?"

"Mhm," you hum as you fold the blanket before dropping it in the large basket on wheels, "she came over for stew, I made sure to feed her good and well, don't worry."

You know it was probably problematic, but you couldn't help it. Chungha came here three years ago on a charge for battery, and over those three years you became sort of friends with her.

The battered in her case was her grandfather. When her five year old daughter, Jiyun, started to show signs of being an omega- he left her in the snow to wither away. She managed to survive until her mother came home, and said mother was furious.

She was lucky she didn't charged with attempted manslaughter.

"She said she'll be here first thing."

"Thank you," she had a heavy pull on her voice. You don't have the emotional connection to other wolves like an alpha or beta did. But it was clear to anyone she was being sincere. "You're a good woman."

"Don't mention it, Yunnie is good company. Oh," you start to wheel the basket away when you remember something. You reach into the purse that you had set on the handles. "She made this at art class, asked me to give it to you so it didn't have to wait in processing."

It was a small, cruelly made ceramic bowl in the vague shape of a heart. It was clearly made by an eight year old, but made with love.

"I owe you."

"Just keep working on that parol work." You said lightly and blew a kiss as you moved to the next cell.

The rest of your work nearly cleared your mind as you went from cell to cell, floor to floor. Omega's were on the second floor. Beta's on the third. Alphas on the fourth. High security on the fifth.

It's on the fourth level that you begin to feel those nerves that you had just worked away. The scent was becoming stronger. They didn't put them on blockers? Maybe they didn't think it would be worth it. Everyone knew that they were the worst of the worst, they didn't even try to hide it. They would undoubtedly be put to death. Why waste two perfectly good, expensive, blockers?

The basket of used sheets is nearly full, accumulating into a weight that makes you put your back into it as you push it into the elevator.

Your index finger reaches out, and before you can stop yourself you've pressed the button to the fifth floor.

You blank out until the door opens again. Your teeth are eternally grateful for the gum between them so they don't grind themselves into dust. The mint flavor does little to calm your nerves.

The only thing that makes you come back to your own head is Changbin. He's a big, buff beta with a gun full of silver bullets on his work belt. He won't let them hurt you. His smile washes away a lot of the nerves.

But the growl that rumbles against the walls makes them return ten, one hundred, one thousand fold. You don't dare say a word. A deer in headlights until Changbin places his hand on the small of your back. "Go on, don't give them the satisfaction of scaring you. They aren't going nowhere no time soon. Take a look."

He motions you deeper into the hall, florescent lights buzzing above you, matching the jittering feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach. It smells too strong. Too much. You're about to fall to your knees from the weight and you haven't even come face to face with the near feral criminals.

Changbin opens the doors at the end of the hall.

They've definitely gone all out to keep them in place. Two large cages placed next to each other in the middle of the enormous room. Made of pure silver and wrapped in wolfsbane. The unpleasant smell of the plant makes your nose twitch. A ring of blood ash surrounds it. Only omegas can pass through blood ash, and now you start to realize why they sent you.

You want to curse the warden, but the second you open your mouth, a loud cackle sounds out from one of the cages.

Changbin's hand twitches at the gun attached to his side.

"Oh wow," the smaller alpha chuckles, eyes closed, head tilted back, as he sniffs the air. "I didn't expect that." More manic giggles slip past his lips.

You haven't even looked up to see them and you want to cave in on yourself.

"What are you rambling about, huh?" The guard next to you shouts, making you flinch instinctively.

"That sweet... sweet, smell," he moans. You can hear him shuffling. "From a peppy little spit fuck omega."

You gasp abashedly, and now two laughs ring out. You want to wonder how they can smell you. Your insurance provides the best scent blocker in the country. But you're too scared to breathe, let alone think.

"Shut up," Changbin groans, he can feel you tense next to him, "don't piss me off, Kim."

"Awe," a new, rumbling voice makes you cower the second it reaches your ears, "this your mate? Hm, no... you wouldn't bring your mate here. You're not an idiot. Then, say... omega." You don't make a move to look when he addresses you, you stay looking at Changbins grip on his gun, silently.

"Omega, come!" Your feet move for you, and that manic laugh almost makes you wet yourself as you realize that your wolf is making you move toward them without your consent. You stop just outside of the blood ash, where you know you're safe.

"Changb-"

"No. I'm the one you're speaking to."

Changbin seems to be weighing his options, eyeing the men as they eye you.

"Why are you here? You a shrink?"

You shake your head.

"You a lawyer?"

Again.

"She works here, dumbass, look at her scrubs," the younger speaks, and you nod subconsciously, to which he giggles, "what can we do for a pretty little thing like you?"

When you refuse to speak, the guard does it for you. "She's here for your sheets today. Get used to her."

You hated that this was your job, but it was easy and accessible, and available for omegas. Werewolves are clean freaks. Every day you had a different cleaning task, but you didn't complain. Not until right now- you wanted to rip out the throat of whoever's idea it was to not shoot these criminals on sight.

"Ah," he hums, and you can feel his eyes raking your body. You can feel both of their eyes. "Not too bad of a sight to get used to. Huh, Hwa?"

"Mh, that's right... can't wait to get my hands on her."

Your head snaps back to Changbin.

"Awn, she thinks he's gonna help her!" The high pitched giggles bounce around in your head. "Oh, little omega~"

The saccharine coo finally pulls your eyes to the men in the cages.

If you thought you knew what fear was before this moment, you were wrong.

The two strongest criminals in the country, staring you down like a piece of meat. It doesn't matter that they are the ones in cages of silver and wolfsbane. You are the one who feels cornered.

You can immediately feel out their dynamics. The taller one is the older one, quiet and still in his cage as he sits in the center. Shaggy, shining hair framing his face and neck like an elegant piece of lace over a brides face. He has a sleeve of tattoos on one forearm, a thick tattoo on his neck. Eyes glowing a deep, blood red, as he tries to read your entire story with only a look in your direction.

The giggling one is less intimidating, only by a hair. Chemically lightened locks pushed back messily, letting his entrancing features shine in the light from the narrow windows high on the walls. He has tattoos as well, but they seem few and far between. His eyes are human for a moment before they meet yours. Instantaneously, they flick black.

The knot drops from your throat and you let out a small, pathetic, squeak.

Changbin breaks your staring contest with the alpha, shouting orders at them. "Take the sheets off your cot and set them outside of your cage. Do not attempt to touch her, I will shoot you."

Neither criminal makes a move to follow his orders, both simply staring at you.

A low growl is emitted when the older alpha finally snaps up, tearing the sheet off the sorry excuse for a bed in one fell swoop. The younger follows his lead, shoving their sheets through the bars that are wrapped in the poisonous flower.

You look to the guard, and he nods, "go." With his finger twitching at the gun ready to pull it, you jump over the dark red ashes and into the wolves den, snatching the sheets up as quick as possible and dashing away, out the door before they even get a chance to lock in your scent up close.

The giggles follow you all the way to the elevator and ring in your head even as the thick metal thunks shut.

As you take a deep breath, you notice the sheets are gripped to your chest, your claws drawn subconsciously in your panic and ripping them up. "Shit!" You let out a curse and shove them into the bottom of the basket so you don't have to smell it as closely on the long ride to the basement.

˚➶ ｡˚

The lingering wafts of your fresh scent are long gone, nothing to distract the alpha's from their caged boredom and bubbling rage over being caught. "I'll have that runts heart in my hands by the end of the month." Hongjoong groaned, to no one in particular- he knew Seonghwa was too deep in thought from their recent revelations. "Fucking back stabbers. They're more pathetic than a bitch in heat trying to get off with a dildo."

The thought hit his mind as soon as the words left his lips.

The thought of you, legs spread with your hand dipped low, trying to satisfy your primal urges and-

"Stop that." Seonghwa growls, kicking the bars of their shared 'wall'.

"Settle down!"

"Oh, like you weren't thinking it!" Hongjoong rolls his eyes, a scowl on his face as he crosses his arms. "Your ruts coming and you don't want your-"

"I said stop," he nearly roars, grabbing Hongjoong's state issued orange top and ripping it with his claws as he pulls him forward.

"I know you want her because I want her too." He whispers, smirking at the telltale signs of desire and bloodlust in his mates eyes. Red swirling around the brown of his human eyes. "Imagine how good she'll smell when we take out that stupid blocker. We'll be drowning in her scent." He moans, grabbing his wrist, "I get the honors, my claws are sharper, anyways," he draws them quickly, digging them into his skin as if to prove a point.

"I can use my teeth, mark h-"

"Oh, will you two stop? Love of God..." The guard in the large room slaps his book down on the rickety table. "What is there possibly for you to be fighting about? You're about to be executed, you know that right? No jury in the world will let you walk, especially the human half."

Their frustrations turn to the man, letting each other go. "Ah, you think so?" The older croons, dragging his index over his bleeding wrist and bringing it to his lips, sucking it clean before he continues. "We won't be around these parts long enough to meet the jury."

"What do you mean by that?"

Hongjoong covers his mouth when a laugh slips past. Seonghwa simply smirks as he sits cross legged, eyes locked with the guard as he licks his wound.

"What do you mean by that?!"

The blonde man breaks out in a fit of laughter. The brunette simply flashes his bloody canines in a twisted smile.

˚➶ ｡˚

You spent the whole time doing your daily tasks trying to hype yourself up to go back up to the fifth floor.

You usually went top down, four to one. Nobody has ever been on five before.

You go bottom up today, starting at Chungha with a full basket of freshly washed sheets. She prattles on about her visit with Jiyun, and how she's so thankful for you.

You choose that as your focus point for the rest of the work day, even as you press the button to the fifth floor.

You think back to the first time you spoke to Chungha, she was a crying mess, unable to sense that you were an omega like herself. She cried and cried and cried as you held her hand through the bars of temporary holding. She cried for her daughter, for cursing her with the shame of being the weakest link of any pack. When she looked up and saw your eyes, barely glowing, she cried more.

She apologized profusely, but you reassured her that her words were true, and you hadn't been offended. You told her that, in fact, she was the first to ever share your feelings of what being an omega really meant. It meant loneliness beside anyone but other omegas. Fake relationships born with people who only stuck around because of their primal instincts to either prey on you or protect you. It meant facing the fact that you were outcasts from both of the world's dominant societies. Outcasted from humans for being a werewolf. Outcasted from werewolves for being weak. So weak, in fact, that blood ash didn't even think of you as a wolf.

That night, you drove four hours to the next village over and looked after her daughter until her aunt had room. You remember the first thing the girl said to you. She didn't speak that whole day, surely in shock from the past few days events. But when you tucked her into the motel bed, she spoke as soft as a ghost, "sing me a song?"

You hum it to yourself now, the soft sound reverberating through the metal around you until the door opened.

You wheel the basket with you this time, like it will protect you as you approach the open doors, already feeling the unwavering gaze of the criminals.

"Hey, dolly~" Hongjoong, you had learned when you took a peek into their files, purred your way.

You didn't give him the satisfaction of responding verbally, but he saw the goosebumps on your arm as you reached into the basket, stretching on your tip toes to get the last two sheets.

"You never shut up do you, Kim?" The guard sighed with an exhausted tone, making you smile as you slowly made your way to the ring of red dust.

The throaty rumble from Seonghwa, the older, taller wolf, makes that smile drop to the depths of Hell.

The new guard seems to notice your anxiety, eyeing you up- in a much less predatory manner than the caged men. "Go on, 'mega. I'm watching them."

A bang on the metal bars makes you glue your foot right back where it came from. It's the blonde one, "you shut the fuck up!"

"No, you shut the fuck up! I'm the one with the silver bullets!"

All of the yelling is making you tremble, Hongjoong and the guard going back and forth. "She isn't your omega!"

"She ain't yours!"

Seonghwa watches with a sinister smile as you back away from the ash and the guard, calling to you quietly, "hey."

The soft tone of his voice makes you raise your eyes, but not your head. His eyes don't hold that threatening and dominating red from before. They're a soft brown color that reminds you of a beautiful dark oak in the morning sunshine. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)..." your tongue moves without your consent, fresh blankets held to your work scrubs.

You desperately want the guard to notice this trance you're in, and grab you out of it. You want to do it yourself, but you can't do anything but admire the beauty of the criminal who has you hypnotized.

"You're a pretty omega, y'know? What color is your wolf?"

"Black..." It's a slur off your lips, barely registering in his sharply tuned ears over the yelling that continues to fill the room.

"Mine too. What's her name? His is Akma."

"Solis."

"Very pretty. Is she fast?"

"Yes."

"Does she want an alpha? A mate?"

"Yes."

The guard finally notices your raised gaze, affixed to the infamous, unlawful, man. He puts his gun back in the holster quickly before gripping your shoulder and forcing you to turn around. "You idiot, didn't anyone ever tell you not to look a first born in the eyes?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry." No one had ever told you that, actually.

Both of the criminals share a smirk as the man from your pack attempts to calm you. It wasn't hard for them to figure out you were an alpha-less village. They could smell every single wolf in five miles, and not a single stench from a wolf even nearly as strong as them.

There was, however, you. A honeyed smell that filled their guts with the primal need to rip out the eyes of anyone who dared look at you.

The guard couldn't be more wrong. You are their omega. You just don't know yet.

"Go and give these fucks their sheets, then get the hell out of here." The man shoved you, making you jump clumsily over the ash so you didn't break the seal.

He yells at them to back up, and they do so without a fight.

You shove them both in at the same time before running back out quickly, grabbing the empty basket and dragging it with you, the sound of the wheels scraping with the force of your panic echoing in the near empty room.

"You guys get off on scaring defenseless girls?" The guard scoffs, not expecting an answer as he drags the chair out of the room and slams the doors behind him.

Seonghwa lets his facade fall the second the door shuts, falling to his knees and grappling at the sheet like he's a starving man with the last piece of food on Earth. Hongjoong watches for a moment in confusion until the scent catches up with his weaker nose. Then he's quickly falling in the same position.

"It worked, the guard was so easy to distract," Hongjoong chuckles, face buried into the sheet that smells vaguely like you from your time spent holding it. "What did you learn?"

"(Y/n), a black wolf named Solis," he pauses, eyes rolled back as he takes a deep breath. They're red when they re-open. "No mate. It's really her."

"You think we should have told her?" Hongjoong inquires, looking through the bars.

He's never seen Seonghwa on his knees for anyone but him or the moon.

"No," he shakes his head, turning to lock eyes with him. "She'll figure it out when I mark her."

"When I mark her."

He rolls his eyes at his defiant nature, knowing full well he won't disobey his orders no matter how badly he wants to do something.

In a dog eat dog world, the strongest was the most powerful. Unlike their human neighbors, werewolves don't decide political or social standing by money or family name. They decide based on who comes out on top in a battle of the body and of the wits.

It had been determined years ago, when they were just young rebellious pups, that Seonghwa was the alpha. A fight in the woods under the moon had set it in stone between the two.

He could have ripped Hongjoongs throat out right then and there, but now, 13 years later in the present; they're bonded for life.

Sometimes he still sees Hongjoong as that 12 year old boy under his teeth, still snapping and growling even as he bled out with tears in his dark eyes, fighting to survive purely out of spite.

"You can mark her first," Seonghwa speaks quickly, turning his back as he puts the sweet smelling sheet on his cot.

He smiles at the man, a quiet thanks spoken through their bonded souls.

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday, they don't see you until much later in the day, but they bask in the sight of you opening the door with a broom and tray in hand, smiling at Changbin. You'll be here for a while, it's a big room.

"Hey, Binnie," you whisper to the beta, and Seonghwa has to bite his tongue.

Binnie? Ugh.

Hongjoong isn't so polite, "hey, Dolly! We don't get a hello?" You barely peek at him, eyes flicked from him right back to the floor in a millisecond. He knows you noticed his pout when he hears the smallest 'hello' tremble by your lips.

You start in the corner, headphones attached to your walkman with your favorite song on repeat to try and soothe yourself. Bill Withers calming voice blocks out every word of the teasing alphas, but you can still feel them mocking you and picking at you.

You don't dare sweep anywhere near the blood ash on the floor. One less precaution in place was one more thing to worry about.

"Bye, Binnie."

He does growl that time, eyes narrowed on your back until the door shuts.

˚➶ ｡˚

Wednesday, you have a frown on your face. "Three days in a row?" The guard Hongjoong got in a yelling match with, Merle, greets you as you come into the cavernous room, "bad schedule huh?"

"No kidding," you sigh, feet slightly hesitant to pass the dust border, "I'm here to fix your shirt. It's state property." You don't look at them, but they know who you're referring to.

They act like they don't, though. Just to hear more of your voice. To make you wriggle under their attention. "Sorry? What do you mean?"

You look and point to Hongjoong, his collar ripped from Seonghwas grasp. "State property."

"Ah, of course." He grins like a jackal, pulling it over his head and sticking his hand out of the bars just in the slightest. "On one condition."

You pout, eyes on the shirt which is just far enough away that you'd have to step closer. And it's the cutest fucking thing they've ever seen.

You look back up at him, silently asking. "Sit and talk with us. The guards here are no fun!" His laugh makes you jump back further, he sounds like a mad pirate.

You look over to Merle, who just shrugs, "just get it over with so these guys will shut up. They're only talkative around you, they need an audience for their antics."

"We won't bite," Seonghwa chuckles with his teeth exposed, making you shiver.

"Fine, give it here." You take a single step forward, palm out infront of the blonde.

When you grab it and go to race away like always, his claws wrapping all the way around your wrist stops you, sharp edges threatening to slice your skin down to the bone. You scream your head off, silenced when Seonghwa coos softly, "sit with us, and talk."

"Let me go..." you plead, eyes frantically flicking to Merle, whose gun is drawn to Hongjoongs head from the border of the ash, waiting for him to take one more wrong move so he can rid the world of one of its greatest criminals.

"Sit, omega." You do so, slowly lowering to the floor with your wrist and life still in Hongjoongs hand. "You have your sewing kit with you, I can hear the buttons hitting the needle. So sit, stay, and talk while you fix it."

Once again, they're the ones caged in. But you're the one who's stuck.

One look to Merle tells you he probably wouldn't help you even if he could get to you. He lowers his gun as your tailbone hits the concrete floor.

Your thin work scrubs do little to fight the cold of the old flooring, one reason of many that you shake as you reach into your purse and get the small tin box.

Hongjoong releases your wrist and sits mirrored to you, hands perched on the bars in the gaps of the purple vine flower wrapped on them. Seonghwa comes to the corner of his side of the split cage and breathes in deeply through his nose, eyes locked in on your every movement. "So you're essentially the errand lady? Maid?"

"Yes..." You murmur under your breath as your fingers work to thread the needle, slowly backing away until you're out of reach, but still stuck in the blood ash with no one to rescue should the men infront of you decide to rip their cages open. You only stop backing away when you hear a warning growl.

You don't care to see which it came from, you just want to do this as quickly as possible and get far, far, away. They could have chose anyone to focus their annoying efforts on. Changbin, Merle, the warden. But no, just your luck.

"You live in the village, right? Were you born here?" Seonghwa continues to do the talking as you carefully fix the shirt.

"Yes. And no."

A small hum from the one in front of you is a sign they want you to continue. "I was born to an overpopulated pack. They kicked me out when I turned eighteen. Our old alpha took me in." The hitch in your voice is a clear sign that it's a sore topic. And Hongjoong continues to poke the wound.

"How did they find you?"

"Woods."

"Woods?"

You can't help the small growl of frustration, lip curling as you look up. "Woods."

The reaction is one you wouldn't have expected from a normal person, but then- they aren't normal.

They laugh, cooing over your gesture of anger. Compared to them, you seem like a teacup puppy. "My, my," the brunette chuckles breathily, "is that Solis coming to play?"

"At least she can," you snap, sent to the back of your own head as your wolf tries to defend you, "she isn't a caged mutt."

Hongjoong breaks out into a manic fit of laughter, while his paramour is the opposite: his eyes flick red before your own, sharp teeth on display in a show of dominance over your smaller ones that are subconsciously bared at him. "Watch it, omega." He spits his words with venom, "I won't be so nice when I get out of here."

You rip the extra thread with your claw, kicking the shirt across the floor so it sits at the bottom bar of Hongjoongs cage. His chest still wracks with laughter, watching as you sit up in a low squat so you're still level with the alpha.

It's clear that you aren't currently you. Your wolf has control of your mouth and body, crouched in a position akin to that of a dog ready to pounce as you hiss your words, "I'm going to laugh in your face as you hang."

"Aw, is that how dear old alpha died?"

"Cut it out!" Merle screams disinterested, eyes glued to his flimsy magazine.

"I heard he got gutted~" Hongjoong giggles, watching the color flicking in your eyes.

"I'll gut you!" Your threat only makes him laugh more.

"(Y/n)!" The voice of Hylyon breaks your wolf away from you immediately, falling to your bottom and crawling to the sound unwittingly. "You fucking idiot, Merle!"

She reaches over the blood ash and pulls you over the ring, letting you collapse into her as she drags you away, still throwing profanities at the incompetent guard. Hongjoong is laughing loudly. Seonghwa yelling at you to come back. The elevator cuts of his roar, the last thing you see through your blurry vision is his fist making a dent in the silver cage.

You fall onto the floor of the metal box. Thoughts flood your head too quickly for you to swim though them, making you drown and try to escape by releasing the pain with tears. You don't even notice when your friend turns her key in the elevator to make it stop in its tracks, you only see her when she sits right infront of you.

"Babes, calm down, I've got you," she reaches out slowly and places a hand on your leg, slowly rubbing her thumb over your knee.

"I can't go back up there... they're too strong, they make me feel like I'm suffocating," you splutter through gasps, "I'm too weak!"

"Hey, hey, you're spiraling!" She opens her arms and pulls you into her, letting you sob into her uniform. "In and out, girl," she holds the back of your neck securely, almost instantaneously making you calm. "I got you... I got you..."

You sit there for a good while, crying into her shoulder as you sort through your wracked brains.

Your alpha was gutted. Right in front of you. Because of you.

Unbeknownst to you, their tuned ears are still listening in, the elevator stuck within their ear shot as you begin mumbling your favorite song to yourself through tears.

˚➶ ｡˚

The sound of claws slicing through the skin on your back rings in your ears. Though, you can't feel it. Your eyes are locked in on your own claws, dug into the hardwood floor of your humble home to keep yourself from being dragged.

You've been here a million times before.

Blood pooling off of your body and onto the frigid surface below you. Teeth sharp and bared to the moon though the open window, begging that she might let you survive. Eyes aglow with your instincts as your wolf tries with every fiber of her being to turn, but she knows it's no use.

The distorted voice above you drips with mocking venom, a chuckle as its owner realizes you can't even fight back like other wolves might: by letting your wolf fully transform.

The wind blows through your curtains, washes your body in the artic breeze. The snowflakes on your windowsill are so delicate, all of their features fade into a blurry mush as they make contact. They melt, dripping down your wall.

This time it's different.

You're turned over, gaping wounds slammed into the floor as always, but when you look up to your aggressor it's different.

His eyes aren't the yellow of a rouge, but the red of an alpha. His hair isn't that unruly blonde curl that you pulled at frantically, that you can still feel on your finger tips when your hands are unoccupied. It's long, shining, soft looking dark locks.

You fall through the floor into another time, another place.

Face first into the snow: your hands, shaking with adrenaline, do little to catch you.

You don't remember this.

This isn't right.

This isn't your nightmare.

You find yourself in a clearing in a forrest, the densely packed trees creating a bubble of nature around you. "(Y/n)?"

You whip around, coming face to face with an unfamiliar man. Almost face to face. If he weren't floating a few feet in the air.

His legs are crossed under him, hands facing palms up on his knees.

"Don't worry. You're only dreaming." He speaks calmly as he floats around you in a circle, like a shark examining its potential prey.

You follow him with your feral gaze, that familiar feeling of an adrenaline crash quickly approaching.

You know you're only dreaming. You've had that last dream more times than you can count in the past three years. It always plays the same. But not this time. You're only slightly thankful that you don't have to witness your alphas death again, but the gratefulness is overshadowed by confusion.

"Are you an angel?" You whisper, watching the man's soft and rounded features as he comes to a stop in the air in front of you and gracefully lowers to his feet.

"I can be, if that's what you want me to be. I'm only here to watch your dreams, fight off the nightmares."

"Why?" You feel distant from your body, watching powerlessly as your hand takes his, letting him lead you out of the clearing and into the darkness of the woods.

It disappears around you, warping into a spring day on a familiar path.

"A favor for a friend."

With the snow gone, you're in your spot, your old towel on the dewy grass with a book laid atop of it and the soil beneath your feet as you approach.

"Enjoy."

The hand vanishes from your own, leaving you alone on the side of the path. You look for him. But he's just an eidolon, watching you from the sky where you can't see him.

You warily take a seat and pick up the book.

˚➶ ｡˚

They don't see you again through the week. And when the next Monday comes by, their sheets are removed while they're in the showers.

Hongjoong sighs from his place on the floor, for the tenth time in the past half hour.

"Hong-"

"I miss our omega!" He whines, cutting him off.

Seonghwa stands from his cot, slowly lowering to the floor next to their shared bars. He lays flat on his back, mirroring Hongjoong as he tilts his head to look at him. "Soon." Is the only word he utters.

He reaches through the silver bars, ignoring the sting as the fresh wolfsbane brushes his wrist, and takes his hand.

The both of them look up at the ceiling through the bars of their enclosure.

Your scent is long gone from the room, and their noses can barely pick up on it through the rest of the village and prison.

"I want out of here," Hongjoong whispers, so lowly that the guard can't hear him from outside of the door, "when are they coming? Your bond with them is stronger, I can barely feel them..."

"Soon." He repeats, "very soon, Joong."

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday you manage to talk your coworker into sweeping the top floor, and you rejoice in the freedom of not being under the alpha's gazes. You've worked out a good schedule to completely avoid seeing them, and it's made your job feel like it's back to normal.

You can still smell their power wafting through the AC, but it's bearable. You distract yourself in your free time by making excuses to be on the second floor with Chungha and the other omegas.

Today, that excuse is 'omegas need physical outlets too', and the warden let you bring up buckets and brushes so you could all scrub the base boards.

"Oh, I've got one!" The omega to your left speaks, lifting his brush in the air in a eureka moment, "Texas Chainsaw Massacre or... Halloween?"

Chungha scoffs with a smile as she scrubs away to your right, "are we including sequels? There's like a billion!"

"No, stand alone original," Beomhan goes back to scrubbing as he continues, "both of them are classics but which one is a better classic?"

"Halloween is the classic slasher, Texas Chainsaw is like psychological horror," you chime in as you dip your brush into the bucket, sitting on your calves as you take a breather. "I think it's not fair to compare them... but Texas Chainsaw, definitely."

They laugh along with you, and Chungha shakes her head, "Halloween has more rewatchablity. You don't want to see Sally go through that more than once, but Laurie Strode fights harder and it's more like, yeah I'll watch her kick ass again."

"Cinematography in both is so beaut-"

The lights above you flicker before they shut down completely. People start muttering their concerns, quite a few of them looking your way. "Don't worry!" You hop up and get your keys from your pocket as you make your way to the locked stairwell. "I'll go and see what's going on, keep scrub-"

A loud siren echoes in the brick walls, shocking you all to cover your ears.

Everyone looks to you for answers, and you don't have any as your brain starts throwing theory after theory at you.

"It's okay, go back to your cells! Shut them behind you!"

They listened, however grumpy about it. The cell doors locked automatically when they were closed.

"Hey, what's going on?" Chungha asked over the clanging of the cell doors. The two of you, along with Beomhan, were the only ones left after a moment.

"Go back to your cell, Beomhan, hurry."

"No, what's happening?"

The sirens cut off and leave you in a pregnant pause for a moment as you simply try to calm yourself.

A deafening scream ricochets through the air vent next to you, scaring you into their arms as you all stare at it.

Usually, the air flow covered the echoes throughout the floors. But with no power, you could hear everything- albeit muffled.

Yells and shouts. Gunshots. Growls. Unidentifiable chaos. And above all, your ears tuned in on a rumbling, calm voice through it all.

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... It's not warm when she's away..."

Your eyes widen as theres a bang at the stairwell door. "Go, go!" You grab each of their wrists, dragging them into Chungha's cell. You slam it behind you and let down the sheet she has over it, backing away and staring at it as you hear the door hit the wall behind it with the force it's slammed open.

"(Y/n), what the hells happening?!"

You slap your hand over his mouth and bring a finger to your lips. The other omegas on the floor are all making a ruckus, and you can only hope that it will confuse that unfortunately familiar voice so he can't find you.

˚➶ ｡˚

The beta in the large room ignores Hongjoong as he continuously asks after 'the pretty omega'.

He just sweeps and sweeps, finally understanding why you hate coming up here. He has his back turned to the cage, and consequently, to the windows.

High on the tall walls, the narrow glass is opened from the outside. Seonghwa smirks, and gestures his head to it. Hongjoongs gaze follows, and he has to slap a hand over his mouth so he doesn't laugh.

A skinny figure is sliding its way in through the window sideways.

He drops to the floor as silent as a mouse, landing on his knees and grinning wildly up at his alphas.

Hongjoong throws his head back in preemptive relief, while Seonghwa is watching with a similarly wide smile as the man walks straight through the blood ash, breaking the circle with the tip of his shoe.

The worker still has his back turned as the lock on Seonghwas cage is picked with a long claw. He doesn't even know what's happening as the next thing he knows, he's thrown across the floor.

Blood ash knocks up around him, coughs wracking his body as he looks up to his assailant.

Park Seonghwa, newly freed from his cage, looks down at the worker with his eyes glowing red.

"Now usually..." He begins, crouching to be face to face with him, "I'd go through this whole place just for the fuck of it and cause some beautiful chaos. But I'm looking for someone."

"(Y/n)?" He stutters out, backing away only to knock into Hongjoongs legs. Stuck between the two criminals, he chooses his own head over yours. "The second floor! Sh-she's on the second floor!"

"Let's go get our omega, Joong."

Nonchalantly, Hongjoong draws his claws and slices the neck of the worker. He hops over the gurgling body and follows his mate with an ecstatic giggle.

He wraps his arm around the skinny man's shoulder, "Wooyoung! Our savior~" He ruffles his hair and laughs as he groans.

"You guys know I've got your back. Seonghwa told me about your new omega, you seem excited," he mimics the alphas smile as the eldest of the trio opens the doors.

The guard on duty, who happens to be Merle, looks back with wide eyes.

"Yes, oh yes!" His eyes roll to the back of his head, touching the stitches you made on his shirt. "Oh, you'll love her, she's a feisty omega just like you."

He makes a run for the fire alarm at the end of the hall, but Seonghwa is faster. The beta is tackled to the floor.

"I'm glad you both will have a buffer, tired of you always at each other's throats during ruts," Wooyoung laughs, looking down at the guard as they pass.

Seonghwa had simply torn out his throat with his bare hand and made his way to the elevator, holding it open with an impatient glare.

The door closes behind them and the only sound is Seonghwa's heavy breathing.

"You're real eager, huh?" The omega breaks the silence, "San should be coming in any second to block the main door. No one will get past him. The rest are in the village, just as we planned."

"Good, she'll need somewhere to rest before we take off....Fucking idiots, thinking they can cage us." He groans, eyes flicking to the number above the doors as it dings.

3? "Fuck."

The door opens and the woman on the other side takes a moment, nearly walking in before she notices the crimson liquid dripping from Segonhwa's hand.

She makes it halfway through the hall before Hongjoong pounces on her, fighting her effortlessly as if she's a rag doll. The guards run to try and save her, but it's too late for the unfortunate woman, and they just signed their own death certificate as well.

Seonghwa and Wooyoung make quick work of them, but their plan is already foiled as the lights flicker to a halt and leave them bathed in dim light of the setting sun in the few windows.

The alphas fall to their knees as their sensitive ears are bombarded with a loud, incessant siren.

"Wooyoung!" Hongjoong screams over it, "go turn that shit off!"

He nods, taking the keys off a mauled guard and dashing to the stair well, leaving it unlocked behind him.

Hongjoong crawls to Seonghwa, collapsing into his chest with his teeth clenched and palms over his ears. His ears were always more sensitive.

His partner places his hands over his, thumb running over his own. He looks down with his eyes glowing red, meeting pure black.

He leans and kisses him deeply, all teeth and bloodlust, trying to merge their souls until the sirens cuts off.

Their foreheads rest together, ignoring the chaos of the beta's around them yelling to be released.

"Are you ready?" Seonghwa whispers, gathering another set of keys from the fallen workers. He throws it to one of the locked in prisoners, a smirk on his face. So much for not creating chaos.

"Let's go," Hongjoong holds the door to the staircase open and lets him go first with a dramatic bow.

It takes one scream to start the havoc. The entire prison is filled with the sickly sweet sounds of caged animals with a taste of freedom. Gunfire and howls bring a smile to Seonghwa's lips as he sings out,

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... it's not warm when she's away..."

He hums the song with a wide grin as Hongjoong kicks the door. It takes only one more kick before it slams open and bangs against the cement wall.

The omegas in their cells are all yelling at them, at one another, in general.

Hongjoong kicks one of the many buckets on the floor over and groans, "here I was thinking she'd make it easy. I guess we'll have to go cell to cell!" A small spike of a heartbeat in his ears makes him smirk, following the sound that he memorized the first time he'd heard it.

Seonghwa follows him, immediately zeroing in on the same cell. He comes to stand infront of it, his breath making the blanket behind the bars sway slightly.

You see both pairs of orange slip on shoes and you feel your heart stop in your chest.

You cower further into the corner with Beomhan as Chungha stands in front of you. The sheet is grabbed from the outside and ripped away, making you all shriek.

"Were you playing hide and seek?" Hongjoong giggles, throwing the blanket to the side with his eyes never leaving you, a scowl growing on his features as he notices the way you're curling into another wolf. "You should know better than to hide from your alphas. Come on out."

You shake your head, gaze lowered as you hold onto the back of Chungha's uniform.

"(Y/n)," the saturnine man speaks, "come here."

"No, leave us alone! Leave me alone," your voice cracks despite how strong you want to appear.

"If I have to drag you out of here I will be very angry. Just come on, do us all a solid."

"No-"

"Open the fucking door!"

"No!"

The cells were built to hold lycans, which means lycans shouldn't be able to get in... right?

"Fucking-" Seonghwa hits the bars, leaving a dent and making the three of you jump.

Hongjoong leans on his tiptoes and whispers into his ear, and whatever he says makes his eyes begin glowing a murderous red.

He slowly wraps his clawed fingers around the bars, and the way Hongjoong backs up makes your stomach churn in anxiety of what's about to come.

And it was warranted anxiety.

With a loud growl and a single tug, he rips the silver bars from their cemented place in the wall, causing a large crack to form.

"Holy shit!" Beomhan screams, arms wrapping around you tightly.

Chungha is ripped from the small room and tossed all the way across the room, back colliding with the wall and leaving her unconscious.

You yelp as Beomhan meets a similar fate, torn from your grasp and out into the rec room like he's a mere bag of trash. You see Hongjoong approaching him with his long black claws out and proud, but your vision is blocked by the large alpha infront of you.

Your hips back into Chungha's small desk, and your hands clamber around, landing on something small and solid.

You swing it at his head and he ducks, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the small cell. You manage to swing again, making contact with his head. The small ceramic bowl shatters into pieces and leaves him only temporarily stunned, glaring down at you.

"Fucking stop," he growls quietly, shoving you to the floor.

He lets you shuffle away, only because Hongjoong is right behind you.

The blonde chuckles, pulling you back up by your collar and crashing you face first into one of the round steel tables bolted into the floor. "Ow!" You yell out as your head makes contact, fighting against him with all your might, but it's fruitless.

He kicks your feet apart and stands between them, leaning his chest over your back. You can feel his nose against your neck, over the healed skin above your scent blocker. You snap your eyes shut and do the only thing you can thing of.

You can't fight. Begging to these men would be useless. You can't disappear into the floor like you wish you could.

"Please, Selene," you pray to the moon, tears slipping past your shut eyes as you feel the claws of the mad man on your neck.

You cry out as the other worldly sharp nails slice into your neck, slowly and almost surgically. His other hand is cupped on the back of your head, keeping your head pushed into the cold metal. "Shhhh," he gushes above you, "it's okay."

Seonghwa sits at one of the bolted stools and rests his head to mimic yours, cheek on the table. "We'd've been more gentle if you listened, omega."

Between the tips of his claws, Hongjoong holds your small alloy scent blocker. Almost instantaneously, your natural scent floods their senses.

Their deep rumbles of pleasure make you snap your eyes back shut, missing the way Hongjoong stomps on the device.

"Fuck," the wolf behind you curses, body pressed close to yours like he wants to fuse together, he places his hands in yours and tells you, "you might want to squeeze."

"Wh- ah!" Your scream echoes over all of the other chaos as his teeth sink into your left shoulder, and you do just that. Your clawed hands squeeze around his, sharp nails knocking together as you hold on like his hands are the only thing keeping you from slipping to the underworld.

It feels like a million pins and needles washing over you, leaving you paralyzed in place as he purrs into the wound, making your bones vibrate.

A warm, comforting hand on your cheek makes you force your eyes open. Seonghwa smiles sweetly, like he isn't witnessing one of the biggest crimes in the lycan community.

Forcing someone to be your mate for the rest of your mortal lives.

"Breathe, omega," his words make you realize you're holding your breath, and you let it out as a sob. "That's it," he hums, rubbing his hand down your head with all the gentleness he's capable of.

Hongjoong pulls away with a moan, resting his head between your shoulder blades as he catches his breath.

Your wolf is already calling for her mate, howling in the back of your mind as you cry.

"Don't worry, we'll take good care of you." Seonghwas words have little time to register in your adrenaline filled head as he turns your head the other way and climbs up on the table.

It hits you when he moves your ruffled shirt away from your right shoulder. "No! No!" You find yourself with two million pins and needles in your body now, squeezing Hongjoongs hands all over again as Seonghwa sinks his teeth into you at an excruciatingly slow pace.

They're bigger, or maybe they only feel that way because your body is on fire. You sob freely, feet stomping pathetically to cope with the pain.

What little comfort you find in Hongjoong squeezing your hands back is washed away by the simple fact that it's him. That blood from his claws drips onto your skin.

It feels like a century later that the older alpha finally pulls away, a bellow of pleasure as he runs his thumb over the wound: making you jump.

"Your turn, omega."

The weight of their bodies is gone, but you can't bring yourself to move. Out of fear, maybe. Pain, perhaps.

"You know what happens to wolves who don't finish the bond." Hongjoong purrs teasingly, knowing full well that you will have to mark them back least you want to suffer at the hands of the moon herself.

A life with them was better than being turned inside out and left to the elements. Just barely.

You lift yourself on shaking arms and nearly fall as you turn. You would have if not for Hongjoong catching you. He lifts you back to the table much gentler, letting your legs dangle as you sit on the table top.

"Why... why me?"

"... Have you heard of Harry Talbot?"

"Harry Talbots a myth... what's he got to do with your fuck shit?"

"Harry Talbot was the first wolf that could smell his mate. He could tell just by her smell, they were meant to be." Hongjoong slots his way between your legs, smiling down at you with his bloody teeth, "her smell called to him. It wasn't just good. It wasn't a normal scent. It was...alluring."

You were growing dizzy, head spinning.

"Strong alphas can sniff out their true mate. And, baby, we're the strongest that there is."

You have to force yourself to swallow. Have to remember to breathe.

"Why? Because you're... alluring."

That's the last thing you can register before your world turns dark.

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE END ˚➶ ｡˚

#yandere fic #smut fic #ateez fic #yandere ateez #park seonghwa #yandere seonghwa #ateez matz #kim hongjoong #yandere hongjoong #ateez smut #ateez x reader #matz x reader #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #yandere ateez x reader #yandere x reader #yandere werewolf

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trashmouththeorist · 8 months

Text

severus snape fic recs

my personal favs

Young Snape:

a life of smoke and silvered glass: Slight AU in which Severus apologizes, tries harder, and stays friends with Lily. Severus doesn't become a Death Eater because he believes in it, Jily get married. Sweet, slightly sad ending. (So cute).

Falling Apart: Time travel fic, no pairings, Severus goes back to when James levicorpused him. (I loved this, I loved how Mary was included and Avery had a redemption arc. Severus never calls Lily mudblood.)

in glory and in ruin: Mulciber/Snape but it's not a main part of it. Basically, a Triwizard Tournament in between the school houses, and Severus gets chosen even though he's only 16. The Marauders and Lily aren't really in it, focuses on Snape's Gang, Charity and Aurora. WIP, and I LOVE it!

The Gryffindor Sort: WIP. Long. In which Severus is a Gryffindor, Lupin is hiding something, Potter and Black are the worst, and there's a Wizarding War about to erupt.

Severus and the Marauders: Long. What if instead of being insulted and excluded from the group, Severus was embraced instead. After all, it was the actions of the group that shaped history from the sidelines. So what if they shaped history a little differently?

That Awful Snape Boy: It had all happened on Wednesday 3rd of September 1973; Minerva committed the date to memory. She would always be amazed that this discussion could happen in the first place. If the boy hadn’t been unconscious, would they even have learnt anything before it was too late?

The Unwanted Boy From Spinner's End: Severus Snape’s existence is a mistake. His mother hints at it often enough with her regretful, drawn-out sighs, while his father prefers to get the message across with a good strapping and a lecture on his worthlessness. Needless to say, the twelve-year-old is not particularly inclined to trust adults, no matter how concerned or caring they claim to be. His life changes abruptly, however, one late evening in September when an illicit brewing session results in a forced trip to the Hogwarts infirmary. Not only is the truth about Severus' home life discovered, but an investigation reveals that shortly prior to his mother’s unexpected death, a single piece of parchment was deposited into her Gringotts vault—a Last Will and Testament in which Eileen Snape née Prince grants guardianship of her son to none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.

To Recollect the Future: Hindsight is 20/20, but when Harry's last steps into the forest set him back further than he'd ever thought, he never realised how grateful he'd be to have Snape there to help too.

Severus' choice: How one choice changed history's course, or the life of Severus Snape from Hogwarts to adulthood if characters were less caricatural, and Voldemort and the Death Eaters were more than bogeymen. This is an AU, events before and after may differ from the books.

the lost generation: The Marauders era at Hogwarts, Voldemort's rise to power and the subsequent war, family loyalties and dishonour, and the struggles of friendship in a difficult time.

Snily:

Come Once Again and Love Me: My favourite Snily fic ever. Snape and Lily time travel back from their individual deaths to when they were still at Hogwarts. Realistic-Lily misses James and Harry and their falling in love is slow burn too. Made me want to cry. I almost liked James!

The Fields of Summer: Short and sad. His past was bleeding into the present, just as his future was bleeding out of the gaping wound in his neck. And since memories were useless to a dead man, Snape plucked them out of his mind and gave them to The Boy Who Lived. He didn’t realize that in so doing, he’d forget her.

seventeen moons: After the werewolf prank. Severus was bitten and Lily figures it out. I hated Sirius so much and he was barely in it but he wasn't villainised-it's just the consequences of his own actions.. Loved the Snily! Short.

Surprising Lessons: Tensions run high between the students of Hogwarts in the time when Severus Snape, Lily Evans, and the Marauders are teenagers. New spells are invented, insults are traded, new bonds form, and unexpected support blooms. Short and sweet.

Vox Severus: SO cute. When Severus Snape's voice changes in fourth year, everyone notices.

Ambiguous: Order member Lily did not have a baby. Death Eater Severus did not hear a prophecy. Consequently, the Dark Lord did not fall. ...but what happens when a long forgotten prophecy suddenly shakes, and flashes through the colours of the spectrum..?

Switching Wands: Severus and Lily acted as best friends should and talked about the Whomping Willow incident. Lily is less than impressed with Potter’s behaviour from that point onward.

Her Slytherin, His Gryffindor: Lily has had enough of James' bullying ways, so she decides to finally take advantage of her Prefect status. Or, in another universe, Lily helps Severus, and they become even closer.

Sweet Root: Lily decides to get Severus drunk one summer night. Angst thereby incurred happily resolves itself into, uh, happiness.

You Don't Bug Me: “Is there any reason you’re half naked in my room?”

Snape/Sirius:

Two Sides: A time travel fic where Severus and Sirius find themselves back on the evening before they graduated Hogwarts. With no idea how and why that happened, they set out to get back to their respective timelines. After all, Sirius has to save Harry at the Minstry of Magic, and Severus needs to tell Potter about the final Horcrux. Right? Too bad that they find themselves back on that evening over and over again. (Personal thoughts: I loved this one, very in character and I loved how they 'fixed' their regrets of the past).

Broken Me Found Broken You: It’s determined that Severus Snape and Sirius Black are immune to punishment after years of near-fatal pranks, bullying, and homemade curses. The only person who thinks them capable of ending the feud and finishing their education is Professor McGonagall. For the summer of ‘77, she gives them a pair of charmed hand mirrors and an ultimatum: communicate. That’s it, a mere ten minutes every Saturday. Back at Hogwarts, when their animosity proves insurmountable, Sirius and Severus are relegated to a small, Eighth Year dormitory. The tight quarters—wandless—are intended to force them to make a peaceful reconciliation, but peace is impossible with a bloody war ramping up inside and outside the castle.

Sorry: Sirius Black decides to make amends for the horrid way he treated Snape when they were teenages. Snape is less than amenable to the idea. (Written around the time of book three/four). Basically, Sirius apologises a lot. And then some fucking.

The Sin in Your Grin (And the Shape of Your Mouth): The Order needed Sirius, but he doubted they'd mourn him very long when he finally disappeared. The first Wizarding war, Snape and Sirius are fucking. Sirius thinks Remus is the spy, Severus tells him otherwise. Canon-compliant: James and Lily die, Peter is the spy. The last line. Shaking.

Dead Reckoning: Severus Snape delivers a potion to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, holding a twenty-year-old grudge in his heart. He has yearned for revenge for so long—and he will have it. Along with something else he did not ask for.

Beyond The Veil: In one world, Sirius Black ignored Severus Snape's warning and went to the Department of Mysteries to save his godson's life. He died and went beyond the veil. In another world, Sirius Black stayed back. This made all the difference. An AU where Sirius Black survived and now knew Severus Snape's deepest secret.

Rings And Ringing Bells: A bastardisation of a traditional love story. Two men both broken by the world are at wit’s end trying not to kill each other. There’s Severus, a bitter insult who does not take fools lightly, and Sirius, a drunkard who has a habit of pressing his buttons. It involves a curse which forces them to get married, an immaculate conception, and the blurring of the line between hate and love. They fear that they have no control over their lives and are doomed to make the mistakes their parents had done before them. They’re not good for each other, but the fiasco that is their romance may be enough to teach them how to hate each other and themselves a little less.

Always (Come For Me): Snape might have been lying when he said Sirius Black wasn't punished for the prank he had pulled on him. It all started with Sirius having to live with the Snapes for the remainder of his summer...

An Interlude: Set during Order of the Phoenix. Snape comes across Black looking through some of his old school things. Memories are stirred up, grudges are held, old conflicts refuse to be resolved, and new ground might be (dis)covered. A series of conversations in the year before a death.

bite your tongue, go to the funeral: A funeral, a departure, a chance encounter, a war, a funeral (again), a snide remark, and a revival.

Two Boys Kissing: Sirius goes to a gay bar and meets the last person he expects. Under cloudy skies, two boys kiss and that one moment comes to define generations of want, need and hope.

An Occlument Heart: Snape knows that, usually, keeping a secret is the bravest thing you can do. But sometimes the bravest thing is to tell one. Complete. Canon (more or less) up to the start of Book 5, when this story begins.

Found in the Moments Between the Search: When Sirius returns from beyond the Veil with knowledge of Voldemort's Horcruxes, he takes on the task of finding and destroying them. Somewhere along the way he finds an unexpected ally and perhaps something more. (AU from the end of OotP, takes place during HBP period)

Walking the Monochrome: That’s what being a dog is like – it's like you’re walking the very edge of the world, where almost all colour has run out, and you know that should you miss a step, you’ll fall off that edge... Then again, you already know all about it. The edge and the falling.” AU of the first war.

Second Life: What happens when two men are given a second chance.

The Welcoming Feast: Severus opened his eyes and he was suddenly inside Grimmauld Place. His hand flew to his neck. He remembered Nagini biting him, Potter coming to him and then he closed his eyes, expecting death, but instead he was back here.

The Devil-and-All to Pay: Albus Dumbledore is mad. Severus is sure of it, when the old man sends him to persuade Sirius Black to come back to England and let the Order use his family home as headquarters. The problem, as always, is that Severus cannot say no.

Black Out: Snape and Black try something they have never done before. Talking.

eighty-twenty: In seventh year James left Severus for Lily. Best choice he could have ever made. It never would have worked out. Besides, he and Lily are married now, she's pregnant with his soon to be child and Severus...Severus is with Sirius.

First and Last and Always: Severus had his wand. He swallowed hard. His wand. Magic. His only defense, because Black outweighed him by at least three stone. But magic was more than enough. Severus had never needed physical prowess. His magical strength, and the keenness of his mind, gave him the advantage. Except when it didn’t.

Visions of Doom: Severus gets injured in the shrieking shack (his fifth year). While unconscious he witnesses some scenes from his future and realizes becoming a death eater wouldn’t bring him power and glory but pain and servitude. He spends the rest of his schooling trying to shape a different future for himself.

Anything by FabulaRasa on AO3.

Remus/Snape:

Fuel the Pyre of Your Enemies: A paired class assignment for Astronomy incites a mutually beneficial agreement between Remus Lupin and Severus Snape. An exploration of sexuality and friendships. (One of my favourite Snupin fics, really realistic. Also no evil!peter).

where the wolfsbane blooms: Remus and Severus friendship, and then more. 7000 words-short but sweet. Severus tries to cure the lycanthropy. James is constantly befuddled.

Have Your Cake and Eat It: Remus POV. Long. Incredible. Changed my world view. I cried with Remus at the end. Still kind of happy! Time travel fic. Remus lives. Realistic for the characters and especially for the seventies (although lowkey Remus is too woke for the nineties why does he know the word heteronormative). I loved Sirius in this one. Lying in hospital after the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus Lupin has a lovely lucid dream that he's gone back to his school days at Hogwarts. Only the day passes, then another, and another, and soon he must face the terrifying possibility that it isn't a dream — that he has irreparably altered the events of the past. Cunegonde is SO good!

DELOCAPONUM: 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟏. A new acquaintance to the territory of teaching, an old friend to grief and misfortune, and entirely off on the wrong foot, twenty-one-year-old Professor Severus Snape reverts to an old charm of his — a charm for things that are lost — in attempt to find the one book in which he wrote it. But when the spell starts working against him and mysterious things start happening to his own students, it seems he has no choice but to form an alliance with an old schoolyard enemy in order to find a culprit, a book, and his own identity. And one thing is for certain: the irritating charm of Remus Lupin is nearly impossible to refuse.

Creature Comforts: A classic! Remus and Severus are paired to work together in Care of Magical Creatures in 6th year. Neither one is too happy with the arrangement at first.

That Awful Boy: CLASSIC! Severitus. Petunia lets slip a twenty-year-old secret, and Harry is sent to Spinner's End to study Occlumency early. Severus Snape can see no way in which this could end in catastrophe.

Not Really Here: After the werewolf prank, Severus disappears. He’s still at Hogwarts—at least, he thinks he is—and he’s probably still alive, but no one can see or hear him. Except for Lupin. Remus, meanwhile, is avoiding the other Marauders—as well as everyone else—and Snape becomes the sole exception to his self-appointed isolation. As they work together to look for answers about Severus’ condition, the unlikely pair drift toward friendship. But building a relationship of any kind presents a challenge when neither of them is sure Severus exists at all. I've only read this once but I love it. No Marauders bashing, but no pretending they're saints either. And they have a pretty big part but obvs Snupin is at the forefront.

The Heir to the House of Prince: Harry is the main character and the main ship is Harry and Theo. While Snupin is secondary it's pretty central. Summer of 4th year and Harry's all alone, dealing with his grief and the sudden revelation that James Potter is not his father. Support comes in a strange form. The form of Theo Nott, son of a death Eater. A strange friend who says he'll help him find his true father, whoever this Lord Prince might be. Technically Snily ig? But not really.

Sight Unseen: After losing his sight during the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus struggles to adjust to his new circumstances; when depression threatens to overwhelm him, he receives unexpected assistance from an unknown source.

The Other Side of The Mirror: In sixth year, Remus Lupin nearly killed Severus Snape in wolf form. Miraculously, Severus escaped unharmed. But what if he hadn't?

The Meaning of Mistletoe: What was going on was that Severus Snape had no trouble tracking down one Petunia Evans, now Dursley, to a little town in Surrey where he saw how exactly she was treating her nephew. Which somehow led to last night and Severus knocking on Lupin’s door with a toddler half-asleep in his arms.

Spymaster: Former spymaster and one time headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Severus Snape left the house just once a week on a Tuesday. Wherein Snape wears tracksuit pants and smokes too many cigarettes and Lupin is into it.

Well They're No Friends Of Mine: Whenever his friends pull a prank on Snape, Remus always looks the other way. But what if there's another option?

The Other Side of the Mirror: I haven't read this, but it's a 'what if Remus bit Snape.' 60000 words.

Artemisa Absinthium: The Rat and the Snake: AU set during the First Wizarding War. Severus has defected from the Dark Lord, and become a double agent for Dumbledore. When he learns of an informant it sends the Order into disaray. Can he uncover the identity of the traitor before his own true loyalty is revealed? What price is he willing to pay for his redemption? And can a man like Severus Snape ever be worthy of love?

Capnolagnia: Three times Remus caught Severus Snape smoking.

About Wolves and Snakes: Unfinished. Remus Lupin woke up being fifteen years old again, having no idea how or why. Upon learning that he could not return, he decided that he would try to change the way things happened.

One Thousand Galleons: It's been six years since Remus Lupin, age 25, left England after the death of his father and the slow dissolving of his friendship with the Marauders. A letter from James finds him in Canada at an opportune time, asking him to come home to meet his soon-to-be-born son. Remus never expected that his time away would give him the perfect resume for teaching at Hogwarts, nor did he expect that his return would spark both conflict and resolution. If only he could get the Potion's Professor to understand how sorry he is for the way things turned out. “What is the price for your forgiveness?” --- “One Thousand Galleons.”

Living Legend: Marauders-era fic, Snape decides he needs some "hands-on" experience and chooses Remus as his very special study partner. But there's more to these extracurricular activities than meets the eye.

Lily's Boy: With help from unexpected places, Harry starts on a journey to end the war, and reshape the wizarding world. With how much he looks like James Potter, people have forgotten one important thing about him - he is Lily Evans' son, and she was one hell of a witch. Side Snupin.

It's Not Over Til It's Done: Unfinished. Severus did not expect to survive the Second Wizarding War, but survive he did. Remus didn't either, yet due to unforeseen circumstances, Remus finds himself taking care of Severus in the wake of surviving Nagini's venom.

Ten Aprils: Severus must find a way for Harry to defeat Voldemort. Remus must find a way for Severus to free himself from the past. The Dark Lord is about to attack Hogwarts, and Harry needs to get over his rage, hate and despair in order to learn to summon the phoenix needed to defeat Voldemort. Snape must find the answers, then teach Harry how. In the next thirty minutes. Like it would ever happen.

A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love: A story in which Severus Snape is unable to sleep; a certain werewolf is impersonating Celestina Warbek and cauldrons are used as prevention, sort of.

the week that changed it all: It’s Christmas break in Remus’ 6th year of Hogwarts. Sadly, his parents aren’t home so he has to stay over at Lily’s house for the week. He makes a discovery he didn’t know was possible. The first one was that apparently, Severus lived not far away, the second one was that he started to like the boy.

A Prince By Early Frost: While preparing his chamber for the Philosopher’s Stone, Severus encounters the dark fae borne by a black glass mirror, buried deep beneath the castle. He is chosen, but unsure by what, until over a year later, when a figure from his dreams takes the Defense position, asking for a favor.

Chocolate Cake and Other Intimacies: Remus Lupin is spending his birthday alone in the hospital wing. Severus brings him his homework to cheer him up.

Basically anything by McKay on AO3.

Snape/James:

Knowledge of the Gods: Severus was either in a coma and dying, already dead and trapped in some purgatory, completely and utterly insane, or living in the body of his past self. And, perhaps most suspiciously, why did James Potter keep looking at him like that?!

A Touch, A Kiss, A Whisper of Love: After Severus Snape and James Potter find themselves stuck in an awkward detention together, an unlikely friendship forms. As their newfound friendship develops, James discovers something new about himself while Severus tries to fight his growing attraction to the Gryffindor boy.

Cake, Please!: Slight SA gives me the ick, but vaguely fun to read. A story of blackmail, the wonderful world of sexuality, and lots of cake.

Revenge is Sweet: A teenage Snape plots his revenge on James Potter for making his life hell, but little does he know that James has plans of his own that will send both their lives spiraling irrevocably out of control.

Ninety-Three: James promises Severus that if Severus has sex with him 93 times, he will break up with Lilly and advocate that she date Severus.

Absolution: What is it that draws James to Severus? A disease? A curse? A secret wish... a need? Try as he might to ignore the Slytherin, in the end, to Severus is where James always finds himself. **SLOW BUILD** Rated M for... certain kinds of scenes later on.

The Dreamer in the Well: James got the girl....finally. She even stopped being friends with Severus, whom he absolutely hated. But one day, his curiosity changes everything.

Love Is Strange: At the start of his sixth year, James Potter decides to finally stop ruining Severus' life. His friends agree to stop the bullying but what they do not know is the reason why James decided to put an end to it. They think he just matured or grew tired of it but the truth is a little more complicated than that.

A Fickle Thing: James Potter's marriage is failing- What a perfect time to disguise himself as a muggle, follow Severus Snape to what is either a makeshift dance club or a party for gay muggles, and then do a series of things he really should not do.

Rise: Severus Snape was tired of his fate, to be a lowly snake. Luckily, fate was kind to him this time and the arrival of a tournament had come. It was a spur of the moment kind of thing, a moment of weakness and strength that led Severus to put his name in the Goblet of Fire. But he was chosen now, and he had no choice but to play in the game, maybe he will live or die, but either way he wasn't going to become what everyone said he would be.

Apocrypha: Two can keep a secret, if one of the two is dead.

Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown): Long, loved it, well written. James Potter starts his seventh year with a secret. He has amazing friends, Sirius is always right by his side, Lily is finally starting to warm up to him. His life is an endless cycle of partying and drinking. So what if the Wizarding World is on the precipice of war? So what if Severus Snape has disappeared from Hogwarts? That's not James's problem. Life is beautiful, and even if it's all an illusion he wants to hold on to that dream for just a little bit longer.

Colours of Redemption: Severus Snape was meant to die. Instead he was placed into hell. Trapped in timeloops, Severus tries to make sense of the future knowledge he suddenly had. If he made one bad move, everything is reset for him to try again. Being placed into a new house and everyone being nice to him, Severus is doing his best but it is hard. Especially when James Potter is noticing him in a different way.

Goeey Melting Hearts: In their 5th year James, Sirius and Remus over hear a conversation that makes them reconsider their opinions of the ‘future Death Eaters’. The Marauders stop bullying, but guilt eats at James until he decides to apologize. That summer James tracks down Severus, but sees something that crushes him.

Regulus/Snape:

Burning Doves: The first Snape/Regulus I ever read. Regulus needs help with potions and Snape tutors him. Not much Marauders, they're just offscreen assholes. Narcissa and Severus friendship which I always enjoy. It's done, but I haven't finished it yet. Whoops.

Severus and Snape: Severus Snape finds Lily dead in Godric's Hollow, her son's screams echoing in his ears, and decides to end his life with hers. Fate has other ideas. Next thing he knows, he's facing an 11-year-old Lily Evans, on their way to their first year at Hogwarts.

Snape & or / Narcissa:

Seven Days: Severus knows a lot can happen in seven days. Slash.

Living A Lie: All of her life, Narcissa Black has had to live as the perfect lady, and witch; to never reveal one's inner heart, nor ever go against the wishes of one's family. After being forced into an engagement she does not want during her sixth year at Hogwarts, Narcissa has kept the desires of her heart on ice; particularly, for a wizard her family would never in a million years have approved of: Severus Snape. Even after the birth of her son Draco, she has harbored these desires deep in her heart for the enigmatic Potions Master. But when she comes to Spinners End to ask Severus to watch over Draco at the start of the school term of 1997, she finds that she cannot keep her heart on ice for the wizard of her dreams any longer...

What Lies Beneath: "Please, Professor, I saw him-I saw Snape," Harry said, struggling to breathe, "he's hurt...we've got to find him-we've got to find him right now or he's going to die!" Severus Snape's redemption story told in the span of three books from multiple perspectives.

Snape/Others:

Redemption: Severus died that night at the hands of the Dark Lord, the man he "worked" for and was "loyal", at least that's what the Lord believed him to be, an impeccable servant. Even so, he ended up dying for his master's snake. He knew it would happen, he was sure his time was coming, just like the manipulative old goat's plan. However, what would he do when he found out that he wasn't the only one who had the memories of his past life? How would his life turn out? Better or worse?

Breaking the Mould: Everyone knew Severus' future. Everyone knew he'd become a death eater, maybe get his mastery in potions and eventually die at his master's hand. But what if they didn't know Severus as well as they thought they did? Rather than conform to the role people expected him to play, Severus takes action. During 6th year he leaves Hogwarts, joining an apprenticeship overseas that guarantees not only a future but his own happiness. Meanwhile the Marauders (minus Peter) are left regretting what can never be. They each had a secret, something none of them were willing to admit. Only now it's too late. But what happens when Severus re-emerges during the war? Not a death eater, not a teacher even. But a strong, independent and most importantly a free man. How will the marauders react?

Dinner and a Show: James takes Lily out to dinner, an unhappy evening made more difficult by the arrival of Severus and Lucius Malfoy at a nearby table.

Snape & Others:

O Mine Enemy: Severitus, long. When Harry finds an injured Snape on his doorstep and must hide him from the Dursleys, he has no idea that this very, very bad day will be the start of something good. Alternate 6th summer (and part of the school year): post-OotP; ignores HBP and DH. No slash, no romance. NOW COMPLETE!

I Know Not, and I Cannot Know; Yet I Live and I Love: Severus Snape has his emotions in check. He knows that he experiences anger and self-loathing and a bitter yearning, and that he rarely deviates from that spectrum… Until the first-year Luna Lovegood arrives to his class wearing a wreath of baby’s breath. Over the next six years, an odd friendship grows between the two, and Snape is not sure how he feels about any of it.

Second Life: What happens when two men are given a second chance. Snape & Sirius.

Not Entirely Tedious: Young Professor Severus Snape shows up for a meeting, but the only other person there is the Deputy Headmistress. He wants to leave and return later, after the other participants will have arrived, but Professor McGonagall explains why that is impossible. Cross about having his plans for the day disrupted for a meeting that’s not taking place, Snape resents having to spend the afternoon with McGonagall. She doesn’t seem very pleased, either, but is content to relax and wait. Snape isn’t so patient, and soon manages to annoy his companion.

The Young Potions Professor: The staff avoided him like the plague, ignored him, or straight up left when he went into the staff room. And the worst thing was that they didn't even try to hide their collective disgust for him. If he got into the staff room in the morning and any of them were there, they would immediately get up and go sit on the furthest side of the room, as far from him as possible.

Slytherin Career Day: The student of Slytherin House were born with everything: wealth, prestige and pure wizarding blood. Now it's Severus Snape's job to help them find the one thing they don't have: careers.

In Another Lifetime: HP AU. In a world where Tom Riddle was slaughtered, the wizarding wars did not occur, and Albus Dumbledore promoted peace in Hogwarts, Lily Evans and Severus Snape did the impossible: they remained lifelong friends. Snape meets his potential, and has a shot at happiness along the way.

immortalists with points to prove: The Snape kid is hardly a hero. Then again, neither is Alastor.

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sunkissed-zegras · 2 days

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★ NSFW HEADCANONS ─── CC²²

❪ requested -> “Caitlin nsfw hcs I beg”❫

─ warnings | nsfw under the cut, read at your own discretion!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

cait is a top, i will not be taking any other suggestions sorry

jk but like... sometimes she'd be down if you took control but she def wants to hold the title of "top" LOL

strap game goes insane, it takes her a while but once she gets into it, she GETS INTO IT

yall have a collection atp, sometimes she'll just buy one cause the color is cute 😭😭😭

as soon as she gets used to the strap itself, whewwww ur gonna be gasping for air when she's done

also after she gets used to it, she def tries diff positions

but cait is a simple girly ─ missionary, cowgirl & backshots r where it's at

she's a backshot warrior, it gives her a power trip cause she lovesssss having her hand all up in your hair and like pulling you upward for a kiss for pushing you down in the pillow

it gets her goin for sure

she loves when you ride her strap, oh my godddddddddddddd it gets riles her up to no end

i feel like she only uses the strap if she wants to absolutely wreck you yk, she wants to see TEARS by the end of it

jk but yall know what i mean

if she wants to be more soft and personal, she'll use her fingers, mouth or she'll just straight up ride ur pussy

babes doesn't care like... she just wants to be close to you

she's definitely a yapper, she'll will either be really really soft or really really... degrading

it depends on what you like (cause her life mission is get you wet as fuck) and how she's feeling

sometimes she just wants to be quiet and really enjoy you, so again her being really vocal depends on how she's feeling

if she's on a game high, like she just won the game of her life, she's talking your ear off

however, if she just had a really tough game where she just feels crushed, she just wants to be as close to you as possible and she won't really be talking

if she just had a rough ass game, yea u won't be walking tmr morning just take the day off 💕🤗

either way ur getting the sex of your life sooooooo

oh and she's a fucking menace when it comes to oral, she DEVOURS YOUUUUUUU

like she'll eat u like it's her last meal ever and i truly mean it

oh she LOVESSSS edging to overstimulation, like she'll hold off your orgasm but then she'll overstim u til you're CRYING like...

then she's all like "thought u wanted to cum baby???"

she's just a menace

going back to the whole rough games, she also loves when you go down on her

except you're on ur knees and she has your hair in a nice ponytail (or just it holding your head) 😌😌

just the power she has over gets her wet as fuck and like...

after a rough ass game, she needs the ego boost trust me😭😭

i feel like she really likes receiving but she'll go down on you too of course, it doesn't matter

she's a receiver tho for sure, i feel like after she rearranges ur guts she just wants to get eaten out too 🤗

so she'll either sit on ur face or just have u in between ur legs and honestly U LOVE GIVING BACKKKKK LIKE 😫😫

her aftercare is top tier though, no matter what the circumstances are, ur getting water and cuddles after

cause at the end of the night she's just a baby who wants cuddles come on nowwwww

she's really serious in the moment but after she'll be giggling like "can't believe i called u a fucking slut, sorry bout that" 😭😭

she's so unserious

she won't fuck you anywhere unless its in private, the media already scrutinizes everything she does so her eating out her gf in a bathroom won't really help😭😭

also it just doesn't get her going, like she'll tease u and shit but she wants to take her time yk

she now has a chronic fear of getting caught cause kate walked in once

ya she still hears ab it to this day

"remember the time where y/n was-"

"shut UP"

yeah she locks the door now even when no one's home

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark smut #caitlin clark headcannons #iowa wbb #wnba draft #iowa hawkeyes #iowa women’s basketball #indiana fever #wnba basketball #wnba #wbb #wnba x reader #wbb smut #wbb x reader #wcbb x reader #ncaa wbb

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tarjapearce · 1 month

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Iridiscent (Pt. 5)

Pirate! Miguel O'Hara x Mermaid! Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mentions of slavery, secondary character death, introduction of characters, violence, mysticism, implicit dark rituals and black magic , mentions of blood, power dynamics, power imbalance. Whump scenarios

Summary: A purpose and a choice lays before Miguel's path.

A| N: CENTURIES after, here is our pirate ❤️ Thanks for waiting this chapter!

So far Peter had proved himself to be useful enough to keep up with the fastened peace Miguel was used to.

He didn't slack off or fell behind. If anything The Red Eyed Demon was somewhat impressed. For being a regular merchant there was surely more than met the eye. Life truly never ceased to bring a much needed dose of surprise.

They had escaped Hacienda Valverde, Miguel had to dispose of a couple of guards in the way to retrieve some ammo and other tools. However a new challenge laid ahead.

Get inside a brigantine.

"So, according to you, we just have to keep ourselves hidden until the boat comes. Then we snuck in and hide again."

Peter spoke as he crunched over the jungle's tree roots. Gun strapped to his hip and a sword on the other. Tense muscles still ached, the blows from the guards had left Miguel to handle the physical duties, giving a brief but welcomed rest to the merchant's ribs.

Miguel nodded and stopped for a moment to have a proper look at his surroundings, the familiar smell of rotten wood and moss filled in his lungs, "Basically."

The pirate mumbled as he took a better look into his milieu, unmistakably they were following the same path he took when foraying up into the Hacienda.

With a groan, he pulled Peter up the tree trunk to cross on the other side. Each landed with a heavy thud, a couple of branches crunching under their weight.

"And..." Peter heaved, "you're sure this will work because...?"

"I've done this before." The pirate cut in curtly, a subtle way to say his reluctant companion to shut up.

Peter just nodded and followed him. The soursops kept stretching until they reached some Acai trees.

"We'll need a uniform for you." Miguel glanced briefly Peter's way to then swing his machete through the foliage, ending the life of whatever plant had dared to cross his way.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Miguel sighed on Peter's surprise and turned to see him, "I'll pretend to be your prisoner. But for that we'll need an uniform."

"No offense pal, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm beaten."

Miguel shrugged nonchalantly, "Makes it more believable. They'll think you got in a fight with the slaves. Happens all the time."

This earned Miguel a disgruntled groan.

"I don't look English enough!"

Miguel deadpanned. "You're white, that's more than enough, just fake the accent and you'll be fine."

Peter's stomach flipped uncomfortably at the implication of his words. Slaves? Fights? He looking English? God forbid MJ to know about his whereabouts or his companies. He was already imagining his wife being horrified for the things he was about to do.

"You've traded slaves before?"

Miguel snapped his head at him so quickly with a glare that made Peter recoil with his hands up in defense.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

The merchant quieted down when Miguel brought a rugged finger to his lips and furrowed his brows, then moved his hand down, a signal for them to hide.

Peter swallowed as he ducked and crawled over a nearby thicket, Miguel however hid behind the tree trunk

The indistinct voices murmuring from a distance alerted the fugitives, Miguel peeked out from a standing tree and saw a small group of guards. Three in total.

One stopped in a nearby hollowed and broken trunk, unbuttoning his pants. Miguel's ever alert gaze darted to the other two that walked away a few meters to give their colleague some privacy as they discussed their next rest layoff, completely unaware of the murderous intentions stalking them.

Miguel crouched, to be eye to eye level with Peter and whispered as he handed him the hefty rope in his weathered hands.

"Take the guy in the back. I'll get the other two."

"W-Wait, what am I supposed to do with this?! Choke him?"

"Exactly. Try to not damage the uniform. He looks your size."

Peter gulped with a panic surge and sighed, "Just for you to know, I don't look-"

"Just shut the fuck up and kill that man! "

Miguel hissed, a vexed tinge in his voice as he tightened his grip on the machete and Peter gulped again. Before the merchant could protest Miguel was already prowling over the other two men.

Peter sighed and remained crouched. The soldier kept baptizing the tree with his pungent scent, earning a temporary disgusted look from the merchant.

With quiet steps, and hitched breath he ventured in through the thickets, keeping himself hidden and quiet as possible while his hands rolled and fisted on the rope.

Peter's heart hammered within his ribcage, pounding with such force his chest thrummed. Bile slowly rose in the back of his throat, he was about to kill a man after all. Something he sometimes fantasized whenever his customers were too pushy or demanding in rough seasons with his prices.

But now that he got to experience the real deal, his hands couldn't help but tremble, soft pants turned agitated the more he approached.

The soldier was too into his own musings by buttoning his pants back that felt a bit too late the rope knotting around his throat.

Peter used his back as a lever and with a sudden downward pull brought the fatheaded guard bending above his knees, hands flailing, gasping for air as he tried to remove the rope out of his obliterating neck.

The soldier's muffled and unintelligible gasps soon turned into gurgles and weakening grunts. Peter couldn't see him, yet the man's face went into a chameleon-like state as his face erupted with several shades of blue and purple while his life escaped before the quiet witnessing of mother nature.

Peter heard the other men's cries as Miguel swung his machete in their bodies, ending their lives in swift moves.

The lurid crack made the merchant to tighten his grip for a bit more, making sure the life had faded from his target.

The soldier's deadweight against his back felt like he carried a block of pure lead, no longer moving. His uniformed arms hung loosely on each side of Peter.

"He's dead." Miguel spoke in between pants as he sheathed his weapon and rolled his shoulders in, releasing some pressure from his joints.

Peter however was clutching the rope tighter, his eyes shut and his teeth baring.

"Hey!" Miguel called but his ally was far too gone. It quickly came to realization what was happening. Peter was panicking. With a sigh he approached carefully and removed the rope from his hands in a firm but mindful tug. The soldier slid down his back and fell to the floor, the overgrown grass muffled the body's fall.

"Pet-" Miguel didn't get to finish his name since the aforementioned crawled behind a tree and retched with all his might.

"O-Oh god... I just" He folded again and Miguel scrunched his nose in mild disgust. He begun examinating the fallen's bodies in search of something that deemed useful, in the meantime.

"I just killed a man." Peter gasped to then wipe his mouth with the back of his shirt.

"Congratulations." Mumbled Miguel as he gathered some ammo within a soldier's hat.

"The hell you mean congratulations?! I just killed a man!" Peter held his stomach as he slanted and panted against a tree, his head hazed with a mix of adrenaline and nausea.

"A man that wouldn't hesitate to plow some bullets into you even if you weren't a threat."

Peter just groaned and rubbed his stomach in circles, trying to soothe the gnawing anxiety within his guts.

"You'll get used to it." Added Miguel with a weak shrug, "Better get your uniform soon, we have to hide the bodies."

Peter retched a final time and Miguel groaned, annoyed, he stood and took a handkerchief from one of the soldier's pockets and waited till Peter finished to hand the fabric piece to him, the latter wiped his mouth and heaved a deep exhale.

"You done?" Miguel's shoulders squared

Peter nodded and without much thinking Miguel slapped him, hard across his face to make all the queasiness abandon his body in a go as he stumbled to the side.

Blue eyes widened both in surprise and and anger.

"W-What the hell was that for?!" the merchant growled and stood inches away from the muscle mass and Miguel nodded, pleased at his reaction.

"You're angry?"

"Yes! You don't go around slapping people like that!" Peter pushed him as he rubbed his cheek.

"Think that as life slapping you again. And again and again" He crouched to resume his gathering, "And again. What will you do about it?"

"If you slap me again, we'll have a problem, pal."

Miguel chuckled at Peter's sudden bravado. With a soft shake of his head he handed him a knife.

"What will you do about it?"

Peter frowned and looked straight in his eyes.

"I'll beat your ass."

Miguel huffed, and patted his shoulder a tad rough while pushing the knife further into his hands.

"Now you know what to do with the guards if you wanna see your kid again."

Ironically, Miguel had just repeated the same words Mundaca had once taught him, and always proved effective. Of course he understood Peter's discomfit for such life changing event, he had spent the night crying after giving the foreman's a taste of his own cat 'til he died.

Night had segued in, covering the endless horizon underneath a stary blanket, the smooth back and fro motion from the dark waves, deemed a worthy sight of admiration after death provoking activities. The saltine breeze caressed the men's skin in an attempt to soothe the underlying discomfit.

Miguel and Peter had found a proper hideout, a spot nearby downhills, where they could see the port and every ship that docked down. The foliage covered them, blending their presence within their ever green density, away from local predators.

The fire cracked cozily within a circle of rocks, oozing with its warmth in every direction anyone approached. Warming up more than bodies and rattled memories.

Miguel laid down in the grass, as Peter sat before the fire that slowly cooked their meal. Some fishes and potatos they'd managed to find in another camp were deemed a proper meal for both.

Peter watched Miguel as he laid.

Strong hands and arms tucked behind his robust nape, eyes closed, almost peacefully. His rugged and cinnamon skin was embedded with faint scar lines that had blurred overtime, leaving a trail of faint white scratches that could only be prominent to the eyesight if he came close enough.

But after witnessing what he could do with his bare hands, the merchant decided he was rather fine at the current distance. His mind however brewed with so many questions his brow furrowed.

"Why did you become a pirate?"

Peter mumbled and Miguel's brows twitched in a mild pucker.

"Had nothing else to lose."

It wasn't in him to share such intimate details of himself with strangers. But Peter had been honest ever since they met, and it was only fair to share tiny bits that remained as universal truths without poking at the too personal territory.

And, au contraire of what people believed of pirate's unruly nature, they all ruled themselves by a code. Miguel respected it as much as he could, specially one of it's most basics and antiques of rules. A truth for a truth.

Peter flipped the fishes to then poke the potatos with a stick, sinking the tip in them to probe at their level of doneness.

"What will we do once in the ship?"

"We hide." Miguel explained simple, "As soon as we get inside, two things can happen." He raised a finger and Peter perked his ears.

"Or you're asked to put all the prisoners to the brig," Miguel raised another finger, "Or you're taken to another area to other duties. You know where a brig is right?"

Peter shrugged with a pout and Miguel groaned while throwing an eye rolling look his way.

"You landlubber..." he shook his head and sighed, "The brig is usually located in the lowest deck. There's no missing in it. Unless you're fucking dumb and end up in the bilge."

"You spill jargon as if I actually understand a thing. I've only been on a boat-"

"Ship." Miguel corrected, earning an irked sigh from Peter.

"I've only been on a ship three times in my life. When my mother gave birth to me, when I tried to look for a better way to keep my business afloat and when I was pressganged by the English a few days ago. So pardon me for not being a connoisseur of a ship's anatomy."

The ramble made Miguel chuckle with derision.

"Relax, mecha corta. I really need for you to understand that no matter what, we need to get in the ship. That's the only way out we have." (Short stack)

"I know." Peter grumbled, "I just... miss my family." He admitted with a slow yet sharp bite to the fish as Miguel nodded absently.

"Haven't properly met my daughter, haven't seen my wife in almost a month."

Miguel just watched him before rising and seating. He took a impaled fish and pulled it's flesh gently with his fingers and ate in silence.

If anything, the Red Eyed Demon understood him better than anyone.

He'd understand the despair of being away, not knowing anything from his little girl for months, he'd definitely felt the disappointment in Peter's eyes. The all too familiar feeling of being a failure for not being there often weighed his mind way too many times he liked to admit.

"And now I hang out with pirates with a pissy ass attitude." Peter chuckled the last bit for himself, "Where are you from, anyways?"

"Born and raised in a Spaniard Hacienda."

Peter hummed as he munched on a roasted potato and nodded. "Born and raised in Queens, New York, USA."

"Yeah, could tell by the accent."

"Family?"

Miguel shrugged while pulling the fish's spine apart and put it within the giant leaf

"All dead."

Peter stopped in his motions to stare at him with a brief mix of surprise and disturb in his eyes.

"Sorry."

"Así es esto. Now, there's one more possible thing that can happen in the ship." (It is how it is)

Peter wiped the rest of fish on his mouth and paid undivided attention to him.

"There is a minimum chance for us to be discovered once aboard. Though minimum, is still a possibility."

"Ok."

"If we ever get discovered, don't run, don't beg and for God's sake do not jump over the board."

"So we surrender?"

Miguel nodded while eating his dinner in a few bites.

"What if they want to kill us?"

"Though that's a fifty fifty, I'm more inclined to believe they won't. My size alone always brings people's curiosity, so let's use that. You said you were a lock master, right?"

Peter nodded almost dumbly, " A locksmith. That's... my business. Yeah."

"Then, we'll be good"

"And if we don't?"

"We jump over the board."

"But you said we don't-"

"I know what I said, just do as I tell you, alright?"

"Fine."

For how long they've waited? Hours? No. Definitely days. The sun had gone up and down four times in a row. And the guards were already packing in.

Gathering and scourging for food was a a risky move, since the guards in Hacienda Valverde had found a couple of corpses the deathly duo left in their wake.

Miguel had kept him well fed and making sure he'd recover properly. If they wanted to leave, Peter had to give him the best rendition of his opposite being. He hsd to be strong, for his little girl awaiting back at home and himself.

Upon the fifth day, The both stared with keen and curious eyes the horizon. The first few english frigates docked, announcing with their sumptuous flags on top, the arrival of the HMS Amberjack. A navy galley.

Peter however smacked Miguel's chest when his eyes noticed another ship behind. This one had two flags. One black and the other a clear piece of Spain.

Miguel's brows furrowed with alarm and confusion.

"What is he doing here?" The pirate muttered under his breath upon recognizing the Spaniard captain's ship.

Another galley, piloted by none other than a famous privateer that spaniards hired whenever a route or a pirate proved themselves a nuisance for the merchants in the area.

None other than Constantino Salazar de Olivares, or infamously known as El Brujo, took the steering wheel of El Aquelarre. A galley that could easily be mistaken by the devil's ship itself, spat right out of darkness and abyss.

"You know him?" Peter quirked a brow on his annoyed reaction.

Of course Miguel knew him. Olivares was after Mundaca, and his crew. El Brujo had been on a relentless hunt for his father figure a long time ago.

"If you're dangerous enough either spaniards or english men send him for your head. But el cabrón proves himself more annoying than anything with his stupid ass beliefs."

"What's wrong with them?"

"He calls himself a sorcerer. Him being here is no good. Something's happening. If we can, we avoid him."

Peter just nodded and soon, the plan was set in motion.

They changed and practiced Peter's locksmith skills once more, before making sure he could get Miguel out of his shackles without a hitch, if the situation demanded it.

And once ready, both men made a descend downhill, threading carefully through the jungle to beckon closer into their common enemy's territory.

Miguel could sense Peter's discomfit as he pressed the weapon against his back.

"Relax. Once aboard, try to stick nearby."

The closer they got, the more men and noise they could hear.

"Round'em up boys, we gotta leave before midday!"

The captain shouted somewhere. The slaves, much to Peter's distraught, were held in chains, shackled in a bee line as they were pushed up aboard.

Miguel murmured little indications to Peter the more they ventured in everyone's radar. Bit by bit, they managed to sneak in the prisoner's registration under fake names.

They passed the first security filter without much trouble. Slowly but surely, the line grew shorter. El Aquelarre came into view and a chill ran down Miguel's spine.

It wasn't only the mysterious and supernatural aura that oozed from the black ship, but the feeling of something unknown calling him. Pulling him close like magnet. And then he saw him. Saw the man that had been chasing Mundaca for almost a decade.

Tall, dressed up in a crimson red coat, black pants and boots. A large and fat shiny feather adorning his triple black edged hat. A couple of talismans, and rhinestones necklaces adorned his tattooed neck and wrists.

Constantino was a good looking man. His eagle like nose, matched perfectly his symmetric squared face. Thin but pretty lush lips, hidden underneath a scruffy, thick beard. Bushy brows that could rival Miguel's, what stood out the most, however were his feline eyes rimmed in black.

Pale green that people often mistook for gold. Watching, ever mysterious and impassive his surroundings. A dangerous pretty man that wouldn't hesitate into sacrificing anything in the name of his beliefs. Leaning against a palm tree.

"Hold on... What was your name again?" The guard before them asked while he took Miguel by the nape and examined him.

"Johnson."

"Ah... Must be a new face 'cause I haven't see you around."

Peter scoffed nervously, "I was assigned up the state."

The guard tittered as he shoved Miguel inside, a couple of flogs were delivered by other armored men, the pirate hissed, his flesh had forgotten what was to take a taste of that whip's mean end. If anything Peter's accent was a bit too good. It suited him, sadly.

The quartermaster looked at Peter with a curious glance while circling him.

"You look familiar."

"I-I've been told I have a common face. Same for my cousin. We're-"

"Shut yer gob."

Peter obeyed as the man slapped disdainful his back. His heart beat increased a houndred per second.

"That uniform looks a bit too big on you, Pete."

The pirate looked at him, concerned despite his own pain. They were almost there. Freedom at the tip of his calloused fingers.

"Well," Peter swallowed as his eyes darted to Miguel, "Taking care of that bastard is a good workout. Specially when said fucking idiot keeps running away!"

The guard laughed merrily and squeezed his shoulders. Peter laughed and nodded with him.

"Oh, tell me about that. Chasing slaves is fun. We should get dogs to make a competition. Sadly, Pete..."

The merchant's face fell as soon as the quartermaster pulled out his gun and pointed it at Miguel.

"You'll have to go in the other ship. As much as I'd love to keep you both, and see you chasing that dumb mammoth, the brig's full. Ya get me?"

Miguel rose to his feet in a haste as the other guards tossed him outside the ship. He had to keep the calm despite the burning and scorching fury shouting to be unleashed. To teach them what he was made of.

"Tell Smith to take the rest to Olivares' ship."

"Yes, sir."

Peter didn't waste a second longer and told the guard behind, assuming he was the Smith guy, to take the remaining group of slaves towards the black and eerie ship.

He walked ahead of the group and sighed with relief, if it wasn't for his quick thinking and impersonation of a couple of his clients, who knows what would've happen.

The gun was pressed against Miguel's back and sighed

"Sorry for that. You ok?"

Miguel just nodded, a tad uncomfortable by the tingling burning in his skin and the fact that his plan was dramatically changing.

A crisp, strong and cold gust of air pushed both men forward, coaxing to approach faster. As if the universe was unable to wait a second longer for them to meet their fate and ebbed them to get inside as soon as possible.

Constantino's green eyes met Miguel's red ones for a brief second, clashing with unspoken grudge. The latter could see how El Brujo smirked as he was taken to the brig.

But little had realized Salazar that he had summoned yet another demon to his ship.

Miguel's mind was rampant. The moment he had stepped in the ship, his brain was already counting the men and recollecting as much information as he could swot on.

The guards, or rather the lack of them, made him frown. Were they on cover torturing the upcoming slaves? Probably. Or they could be in the weapon room, readying the canons and powder for defense.

Just as Miguel had said, the brig was located in the lower deck, and what he found there, churned Peter's heart with an uncomfortable stir.

Slaves. Grown men and youngsters all put in cages, like wild animals for a merciless and dehumanizing show. The ship hasn't even sailed yet, and their heads already had a price.

Each knew their fate. Spain, England even America and Cuba. Others hoped for a quick death, if the diseases and whipping on earth didn't, the injuries in their body would.

Some slaves looked up to meet their new trip colleagues with keen eyes, hoping for a novelty. And Miguel didn't disappoint. A collective round of hushed whispers in different languages echoed as he entered.

He was put on a cell with another young black man, and the rest was put in the remaining cages.

Silence reigned heavy in the brig once the guards left at haste. Curiously, if he had seen a couple of guards, was to say he'd seen too much of them. The ship was desolated. Even for a galley. But to Olivares, this seemed like another day.

Seconds and minutes dragged on too slow, but the hefty and slow steps from the darkened hall alerted the men.

All eyes could see the pair of beady glowing golden eyes, approaching, preying. The black and shiny feather on his hat waved at the beat of his walking. Constantino was selecting the future sacrifice for his ship.

It was mandatory, since Olivares believed subjugated blood protected against all evil once in the sea.

His imposing frame blocked the view further to the darkened hall, emerging like if shadows themselves had spat him right before them. Beady and eerie eyes raked over the fine and twisted selection of men that stared back with fear. Green gold orbs glanced a little to long in Miguel's way, to then shift his eyes to a young man.

El Brujo had made his selection. With a snap of his fingers he pointed at the man and two guards came and fetched him. Needless to say the young slave fought, cried and asked for mercy. But it all fell upon deafening ears.

Miguel wasn't precisely a believer, he'd rather to not dwell too munch into things that didn't provide or granted him a purpose, food or money. But after seeing a mermaid with his own eyes, he couldn't remain completely skeptical to the mysterious ways of the world and how they wove it's intricate connections together.

The youngster was dragged away and the rest could only watch in fear silent. Making themselves as small as they could. They knew how things would end for their companion.

The rituals Constantino did, left the slaves trembling in fear. He'd start chanting in Latin, then have the man's throat slit and his blood smeared in whatever surface Olivares decided to put on, and then throw the body at the sea, to feed the monsters lurking underneath. Serving his purpose of sacrifice.

Peter returned a couple of hours later, with a disturbed and paling countenance, strong emotions surely made a show of his face.

Bile rose up his throat, like his discomfit. When he entered the brig every pair of eyes were on him as he quickly removed his coat, trying to break the link that tied him to that awful event, leaving his stained shirt with spots of long dried blood. He sat a few steps away of Miguel.

The latter didn't have to ask too much as to what had happened when Peter's hands did all the talking. There was blood in them. Dry and crusty flakes came off as the merchant rubbed them on his pants.

Olivares had ordered him to paint the ship's board with the young man's blood.

"He... He killed him." Peter stammered to then gulp the sudden lump tightening in his throat. His breath hitched.

"Of course he would. He's coo-coo on the head. He believes 'imself sorcerer or some shite like that."

The man next to him spoke, like the sacrificed man, he was young, didn't passed the nineteens, tall, lanky, some piercings on his face and tattoos on his marred and whipped flesh.

His hair was tucked back in a lose thick bun, thanks to his dreadlocks. His eyes dark, ever pondering and assessing the situation before him.

"Then how do'ya explain we survived that... monster of storm, Hobie?!" Another man with a heavy accent spoke, and some nodded as if encouraging the questioning.

"Cause it's a sturdy ship, you twat, it's well built!. Spain has the best craftsmen in the navy." The man shrugged nonchalantly.

"He hunted down a monster!"

That perked Miguel's ears. "What monster?"

Peter and the man next to him looked with a quirked brow his way. Miguel didn't strike as someone gullible for such nonsense.

"I don't know, man. But the storm was so strong the ship nearly sinks. All we could hear was screams and some guards saying, 'we've got her.' And then? The biggest and meanest of waves start hitting and wipes half the crew!"

Miguel blinked almost dumbly.

"This ship's hunted cause that Olivar man has made a pact with the devil."

"It's a rumor, Adé." Hobie mumbled, a little annoyed they couldn't see past superstition.

"It is not! Think about it! This famous pirate dies, and all these... mysterious things start happening at sea. Ships start sinking, waves turn bigger and bigger each storm, just cause they saw this... monster."

"Are you forgetting we nearly drown, ship an all? The sea is angry!. And since this... Captain captured whatever, it's even angrier at us. He shouldn't be a fool and trust demons to take care of us and return that thing to where it belongs!"

The other slaves nodded. Superstition was rampant in every ship Miguel visited. But again, he simply couldn't remain a non believer forever when a mermaid ate his quartermaster before him and everyone aboard his forsaken ship.

While the chained men discussed other underworld like stories, Miguel scooted closer to a much more calm Peter.

"How many men you saw?" he asked in a low, almost hushed voice.

"Like twenty five, including the captain. Most are in their barracks."

Miguel nodded with an emerging idea in his mind. The slaves were bigger than the crew itself if he could convince them to join his cause, not only would they be free, but he'd have a temporary ship to finally get his own back.

But would they follow him?

That was a significant question. If there was something life had taught him, was to preach with an example. Only then he'd get the right people to get his goal achieved.

"What're ya planning?" Hobie spoke as he kept glancing to the door.

"Excuse me?" His bushy brow quirked with disdain.

"Excused. What're ya are planning?"

Miguel remained quiet for a bit. The young man had spoken enough to prove himself a rational and quick thinker, and his knowledge of ships didn't go unnoticed.

"Escaping and seizing the ship."

Hobie couldn't help but titter quietly on Miguel's words.

"Well, break a leg, mate." He shook his head.

Miguel shrugged as Peter begun lock picking his shackles. Mirth slowly left Hobie's body, surprise and hope took over.

"Wait. wait... What are you doing?"

"Escaping, to seize the ship."

"Wait!" Hobie demanded once more, turning the whole attention the attention of the whole group towards them.

"Have you even seen the pigs outside? They're armored to the teeth! They'll kill you."

"I rather fuck around to find out than dying to a man's madness, boy."

The shackles embracing his wrist possessively, fell to the floor. Defeated.

"Will you get us out of here?"

"Please! Get us out!"

The slaves begun pleading, raising their voices and Miguel roared with his commanding voice.

"Cállense!" (Shut up)

Peter looked outside the door as quiet returned to the brig. With a deep inhale, Miguel spoke.

"If we want to get out, you'll listen. Understood?

Mostly nodded.

"I can't free you out just yet." Some faces fell, other sighed with resignation, "I need to confirm the information first, we need to be careful. If we get caught, we all die. Simple as that."

"How can we know this white man won't sell us out?"

Another collective rounds of nodding flooded the future crew.

"Cause he was beaten and press ganged by the english too. He's a merchant not a guard."

"And a locksmith." Peter quipped, trying to clean his sudden reputation.

"You said the waves wiped half the crew right?" the man nodded, "Peter here says it's twenty five men in total, including the captain."

"We're more than them?" Hobie asked, nonplussed for a second.

"Apparently. That's why I wanna go and see myself, cause if it's true, we can take this ship to ourselves."

"Now you're the crazy one." Another man spoke.

Miguel's brows furrowed with annoyance, tired of the pessimistic thinking when the chance laid obvious and ahead of them.

"I'll make it simple for you. If we don't succeed we'll get to either Spain, England or Cuba, where each of you will get at much three hundred for your head, if you're not injured." Some men recoiled at the information,

"Some won't even endure the first month of labor under the english. You think Spaniards and Cuban are bad? Wait for you to be at the hands of British."

He stood and Peter opened the door's cell. His true seize standing proud among the rest. Some gasped.

"If you want a number define your value, be my guest. The less useless in my way, the better." Miguel smoothed his wrists and moved them to stretch his fingers.

"But if you want to live and experience life out of those shackles, you'll wait till I return and act like nothing happened in the meantime, understood?"

Hobie chuckled and nodded. The rest followed with a new sense of renewed hope.

"Aye, sir." He saluted.

Sneaking out wasn't hard, but keeping himself hidden proved to be rather tricky.

Narrow and wooden halls extended left and right, and after what it felt hours he cleared the weaponry room, seizing some for himself. A short ranged knife and a rope. The pistols would be fetched later, when the heist would start. For now, he'd need to be as quiet as possible.

The brig was the extension of the armory. Canons and rifles laid in every direction his eyes landed. All left behind by a wiped crew.

The creaking door however made him hide under the gunpowder barrels, the tinkering of rhinestones and talismans made his breath hitch. He saw Salazar going further the room, and then he disappeared in plain sight.

Confused, Miguel snuck closer and he pressed an ear on the wall.

There were definitely steps and voices. Salazar spoke, and another door was opened.

How could he disappear and be in another place?

His brows puckered and soon his hands pressed against the wall. Taunting and feeling for any irregularity in it. A little current of air flowing in a side made him blink.

A hidden passage. Of course.

He pushed the apparent sturdy wall and to his surprise it budged enough to create an opening to another hall. He sidled inside and hid behind some boxes.

He could see the hall empty, candle lit by the lamps etched to the walls. Floor damp, the saline water pungent.

Was he on the bilge?

Salazar's feather bounced as he walked behind the sturdy door. There was no room for doubts.

With careful steps he approached the end of the hall and snuck in last minute before the door closed with a loud thud.

He hid once more under a pile of musty ropes and ammo. The room was lit up in a cold hue of blue. The crystal-like resin Constantino used to lit the lamp, sparked in a pale blue and aqua sparks, cracking merrily as the fire consumed it within the translucent goblet, amplifying the magnitude of the illumination.

"Cuando lleguemos, la reina no tendrá más opción que darme todo lo que le pida. Ya que te rehúsas a cumplir mis deseos, veremos si desafías a la corona." (When we arrive? The queen will have no choice but to give me everything I ask for. Since you refuse to grant my wishes, let's see if you refuse The Crown)

Miguel could see Olivares from a slit between the ropes.

A deaf thud echoed and Salazar let out an ominous yet rich laugh. Way too entertained.

"Aunque me encantaría que me consumas, aún tengo otros planes en mente." (Although I'd love to be consumed by you, I've still got other plans in mind for you)

Without much say, Olivares left after turning off the resin again. Letting the room to drown in darkness once more.

When Miguel was sure none would come again, he stepped out of his hiding spot and approached the goblet, he had no immediate fire, but knew how to start one. It was one of the first things Mundaca taught him.

He took two pieces of resin and crashed them together until sparks flew again. Illuminating the room with the soft blue hue again.

The clinking of chains demanded his attention. And his heart nearly stopped at the sight.

It couldn't be, could it?

Cruelly chained by your neck and wrists, with heavy links attached to the floor, allowing minimum movement. A hook trespassed the fin of your tail, nearby it's start, holding you in place from a corner.

Defeated, beaten and bleeding; trapped behind thick walls of glass that provided a clear image of your overall state.

Tortured and injured.

You were real. Mermaids were real. And they bled.

You bled.

He didn't have to repeat himself that they weren't real to try and justify your mere existence. Not when you laid before his eyes. Subjugated, demoralized and meek. A demure creature far too different from the monster he met at the ship.

But instead of feeling joy and that twisted sense of pride for a fellow human to have captured you and had your will broken, something else nested in his chest.

Compassion and confusion.

How had Constantino achieved his younger self's dream? How was this possible?

He stepped closer and his breath hitched for a second time. For once in forever, your eyes met his.

Acknowledging eachother.

Taglist:

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#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #iridiscent #pirate!au #Pirate! Miguel

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biteofcherry · 8 months

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Darkness between the stars

Darth!Steve Rogers x female reader

Author's Note: On my recent wave of feels after Anakin's cameo in Ahsoka, I couldn't stop thinking about powerful Jedi Steve Rogers, who was once galaxy's hope, turning dark. This is very loosely inspired by Anakin's storyline, without going full on Vader-look (because Steve's face is too pretty to cover it with that ugly helmet; sorry, I make the rules here).

summary: You followed your Master when he gave in to the dark side, not believing the twisted values the Emperor spew, but because you couldn't imagine being anywhere other than by Steve's side. Even if you accepted the fact Steve's heart may forever belong to the woman he once loved.

warnings: angst; hurt/comfort; soft dark!Steve Rogers; some power imbalance; choking kink; implied age gap (since Steve was the Reader's Master), but Reader is of age

The threat of thudding footsteps caused a spike of fear among the Imperial officers passing in the corridor outside - you sensed the stench of it. You could easily imagine them scattering away as quickly as possible, or trying to blend with the walls.

As cowardly as it was, it was also wise. Finding yourself in the path of an angry Sith Lord would end badly.

Thankfully, the medical droid stitching up your leg had no real human feelings, so it continued its work without a hitch even as the seal to the med bay opened and Steve stormed in.

All in his towering, dark glory.

Black robe swiping the floor, deadly lightsaber strapped to the utility belt, shiny buckles on the reinforced leather gloves on his hands.

Darth Nomad. Sith Lord.

Once upon a time a great, idealistic Jedi Master, Steve Rogers.

Though the Jedi Order no longer existed and his path had turned dark and bloody, he still remained Steve to you.

Only in privacy. Always in your heart, even as you addressed him as Master or Nomad when other's ears and eyes were on you. He owned you; his claws ran far deeper and clutched stronger than Palpatine’s influence on him.

You harbored a crush on your Master for years, hiding your thoughts and longing every day. As well every night, when you rested in your chamber at the Jedi temple and he returned into the arms of his beloved wife in her lush suite.

When you followed Steve to kneel at the Emperor's feet and pledge loyalty to the dark side, you perfectly sold the lie of the ambitious, proud apprentice who was bitter the Jedi were too weak. You claimed to want to continue your training and be on the winning side, the side of true power.

What you truly wanted was to be with Steve, even if it was only to suffer unrequited love as you helped him drown the world in blood.

The Emperor somehow bought it, or maybe simply thought it useful to have you serve the Empire, no matter your actual motivation.

However, Steve saw right through you.

He didn't confront you right away. Not for months. Until the two of you were on a solo quest, treading through the lush flora of an outer-rim planet, searching for an ancient artifact - much like you used to do as Jedi.

Did he catch you looking at his profile too long? Did he sense the change in your heartbeat whenever he was close? Was your Force bond so strong that he glimpsed into your desperate dreams?

Or maybe Steve simply knew you so well, after all the years.

When he reached for you, when he touched you, you knew it could deepen your later suffering. But you still gave in, if only for one night. If only you could taste him and fall apart under his command this one time.

But it wasn’t just one night. Nor a few chance encounters over the years.

Whatever it was between the two of you, has become a regularity. A wicked norm that sated, as well enhanced the craving that’s been burning inside of you. It seemed there was never enough; the desire for him simmered beneath your skin every day and your desperate love pushed you further into howling darkness.

Eerie, that love was what pushed Steve to the dark side as well.

There were other factors, layers upon layers, but it was the heart that sealed the deal. For the both of you.

Your tragedy was that Steve’s heart would never be yours.

So you fed off on everything else you were given - Steve’s attention, his lust, his protectiveness.

Which was why he stomped through the Executor like a deadly storm cloud - in his case, literally deadly - led by rage.

You knew it was mostly directed at the scum who dared to wound you, but some of it was also at you. For being careless in your small mission, which you attempted to keep secret from him.

His black cloak floated ominously around Steve as he stepped inside; his fingers clenched into fists, stretching the leather of his gloves.

“How serious is the injury?” Even in anger, Steve’s voice remained calm.

You opened your mouth to say it’s not that bad, but he gave you a pointed look that meant he wasn’t talking to you and that you were in serious trouble. The kind that may end with your ass bruised.

“A level two blaster wound to the thigh,” the medical droid reported. “It missed the artery and the muscle will rebuild with the protein enhancer we’ve injected. Patient’s skin has been sutured.”

Steve’s gaze flicked to your bare leg, eyes narrowing as he assessed the dressing over your wound. The droid wasn’t bothered by it, but if a living person was here instead, they’d sweat in fear of his disapproval.

“The patient may experience impaired mobility for the next day. No other complications are expected.”

Steve nodded, his eyes still on your leg. Though his trimmed beard gentled the sharp line of his jaw, you still saw the nervous tick of muscle. Then his gaze shifted along your half-dressed body and settled on your face.

He stepped closer to the bed and cupped your chin. Scent of familiar leather pleasantly dispersed the annoying smell of medical antiseptics.

“I’m gone for two days and you get yourself in trouble, Stardust.” Steve squeezed your chin a tad harder. “Should I keep you at my side at all times, like an irresponsible apprentice freshly in training?”

“Or-” he leaned in; the blue of his eyes searing like his old lightsaber- “maybe I’ll confiscate your weapon and keep you as a bedwarmer only?”

Before you managed to utter I’m sorry for failing, Master, Steve was lifting you in his arms. Stealing your breath with the gesture.

One arm beneath your knees, the other under your back. Your heart stopped for a moment, then rushed in a rapid pattern as he carried you out of the med bay.

It had to be a bizarre sight - the Dark Lord of the Sith, most feared in the whole galaxy Darth Nomad, who snapped necks with a flick of a wrist; was carrying a woman through the Star Dreadnought.

However, no one dared to stare, or even flick a curious glance your way.

Steve showed softness when you both laid spent after fucking, or simply wrapping an arm around your middle when you were sleeping, but he never carried you like that.

Even when he wanted you in a certain position when he fucked you, he either told you to do it the right way, or used the Force to bend your body how he wished.

Being cradled in his arms, out in the open, soothed that deep longing for true care on his part. Taunted you with deep feeling that you knew would never be real.

“Something’s troubling you.” Steve stated when the double-sealed entrance to his (and yours) chambers closed behind you. “And it’s not your injury, I sense.”

He crossed the space to the bedroom, where cold blue light changed into unsettling red that you learned to associate with safety. Black and red used to mean the enemy, the danger, even death, but Steve made you love it. Conditioned you to see it as the setting you belonged in.

“Well, my failure in successfully finishing my deal on Serenno,” you shrugged, but instantly cringed as you felt that lie failed miserably.

You weren’t a bad liar. When it came to Steve, however, it was as if the ability was malfunctioning.

At least ever since he slipped his gloved finger between your lips for the first time and softly commanded you to admit how much you craved him.

You yelped as Steve suddenly dropped you onto the bed. The muscle in your thigh spasmed, sending a painful jolt. Fingers gripping the dark sheets, you breathed through the wave of ache as you lifted your gaze to look at Steve.

His black robe dropped to the floor. He set his lightsaber down on the black, lacquered table, then unbuckled his utility belt. It fell to the floor with a dull thud.

“You do not lie to me, Stardust,” Steve’s glare was a warning as he braced his hands on his hips and waited for your honesty.

The reason hidden deep in your heart could bring you more trouble than withholding the truth from Steve. You feared speaking it aloud may cut you out of Steve’s life completely, if he learned that you were desperate for so much more than his cock.

But there was no way of hiding it from him for long. Not when he was on a hunt to rip that truth out of you.

Steve would get to it one way, or another. One could perhaps be a sexually torturous way, but there was also a chance of him reaping it from your mind with the Force.

You took a deep breath, forcing a cold sheet to form around your fluttering heart and make you seem indifferent to your own emotions, like you did at the beginning of your life on the dark side. Your fingers tightened their grip on the smooth, dark sheets.

“Your gesture startled me,” you admitted. “I know I’m of certain value to you, as a lover and as a former Padawan. Being carried like that, like you cared, incited foolish thoughts in my head.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed as a frown marred his forehead. His head tilted slightly to the side, his gaze never allowing yours to drop.

“Elaborate,” he requested, but you knew that despite the calm tone it was a command.

“It almost ignited a stupid hope to have your heart,” you spat out bitterly, “which would never happen, I’m aware, Master. I know there was only one woman who had your heart and it lies buried with your wife.”

With the woman who wasn’t strong enough to pull him off that edge of destruction, nor had the guts to fall with him and rule by his side.

Steve’s hand shot forward, fingers curled in an open grip. The yank of incredibly powerful Force pulled your body upwards, as if you were a featherlight ragdoll. He made your body flow in the air, inches above the floor.

The pressure around your neck cinched. He wasn’t touching you, yet it felt as if Steve’s gloved fingers were wrapped around the front of your neck, squeezing your throat.

It spiked fear and adrenaline, but also roused your body in ways no other lover ever could.

Your body froze in place right in front of Steve, the Force still keeping you hanging in the air.

“You are right to say my heart was buried with my wife.” Steve growled through clenched teeth. “It’s left in the past that we burned to the ground.”

A gasp escaped your lips as Steve’s hand firmly wrapped around your neck. Though he still used the Force to move your body, it was also his sheer strength behind his movement as he walked you backwards until your back met the wall.

“You’re not in my heart, Stardust, because I no longer have one,” his hot breath tickled your cheek as Steve’s face inched even closer.

“You’re not my love. You’re more. You’re m i n e.”

What filled your heart felt similar to the overwhelming lightness you used to be connected with, once upon a time.

The Force eased back and your body sagged, but Steve’s hand was still firm on your throat. Holding you up as your toes tried to reach the floor and give you some support.

No, he wouldn’t let you down easily. He would drive in the point that he was your support. He was your sustenance. He would hold you up, as well destroy you.

“You’re my fucking everything!”

Steve bit your bottom lip, making you cry out at the sudden sting. Then the flick of his tongue soothed it before he swiped between your parted lips. The way Steve kissed you was more consuming than the darkness you dwelled in; more burning than the lightsaber’s blade.

When he pulled away, your lips were swollen and tingling, and your cunt was pulsing with need.

“You’ll repent for endangering what’s mine-” Steve’s chuckle was a brush of tempting darkness as his free hand slid up your wounded thigh- “tomorrow, when it’s fully healed.”

“Yes, Master,” you moaned as his fingers changed their course and teased your folds beneath the short, medical robe.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #Darth!Steve Rogers #Jedi!Steve Rogers #dark Steve Rogers #(In the aspect of being a Sith Lord)#soft dark Steve Rogers #(when it comes to reader)#Darkness between the stars

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ilikekidsshows · 6 months

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The Totally Spies-ification of Adrien

Okay, it's been long enough that I can actually discuss how Adrien's slavery is depicted in the show without anger-fueled exaggerations and hyperbole. I want to discuss how Miraculous treats Adrien's slavery very flippantly and how it is, like everything in this show post-retool, all about Marinette. The show has a lot of stuff that hints that the writers intend for Adrien to be viewed a very certain way. I believe the writers made Adrien a slave for Marinette’s benefit and I will explain how I came to this conclusion.

I’ve joked before about how Astruc has worked on Totally Spies, “one of the kinkiest cartoons ever made”. I’d like to tackle this idea and how it relates to Miraculous more seriously. I’d like to tackle the topic of titillation and how it relates to how this show approaches slavery with such flippancy. My claim is that Adrien being a slave is not meant to be horrifying, which is why the story doesn't treat it as such; it's meant to be titillating.

I usually don't use Read Mores, since they can lead to broken links later, but this is really long. Strap in, folks.

Titillation for the context of this analysis means “content with the intention to excite romantically or sexually”, basically it’s about “kinky” stuff. The purpose of talking about sexuality in relation to Miraculous is not to paint the writers as some kind of fiends, but to present the fact that many teenagers are curious about romance and sex and will think about sex unprompted. This means titillating content in cartoons doesn’t even need to be related to sex to be titillating. And Astruc has a history of putting titillating stuff in his work, with Totally Spies being a very notable example of how you can include non-sexual titillating content in a kids’ show.

It all comes down to expected audience reactions. Adrien is meant to be sexy. I don’t mean that in a “the writers think this is sexy” way, but a “the writers think the projected audience of straight teenage girls will think this is sexy” way. He gets put into bondage three times in ‘Copycat’, ‘Anti-Bug’ and ‘Reverser’ and all three times the camera seems to like to show him off. He is meant to be an object of attraction for the audience. The people criticizing this show have been pointing out how Ladybug's costume accentuates her butt for years, but this is not something that occurs with just Ladybug. When he isn't posing for the viewers, Cat Noir gets whacked around by Akuma’s a lot, but a lot of the time it ends with him in a prone position that is also titillating, in ‘Pixelator’ it goes as far as having his butt jut out. However, the idea that Cat Noir is the one who gets hit when an Akuma needs to show off how dangerous they are is also part of the power dynamic where Marinette or Ladybug gets to show off, so it’s not purely for titillation, which is why other examples, like ‘Stormy Weather’ are more comedic.

It’s likely that Adrien-as-Adrien doesn’t get to participate in the show’s slapstick much, since that aspect of the character is presented as the perfect beauty, a role usually reserved for female characters who only ever get a little bit flustered or banged up to make sure they keep looking attractive. Marinette screams "waack" and runs face first into a wall in the same episode where the silliest thing Adrien gets to do is sneeze (Mr Pigeon). Adrien is meant to be attractive, sexy, titillating, in different ways in his different forms. As Cat Noir he is more active and more sexy, as Adrien he’s more passive and pretty, much like how female love interests can fall into these categories. It’s the Betty and Veronica dichotomy; in the Archie franchise Betty and Veronica are shown as the wholesome and sexy romance options and the reason the writers go out of their way not to resolve the love triangle is to keep the appeal of these both options going. People’s tastes differ, so it would alienate some audiences to pick one over the other. With Miraculous they solved the problem by having the two romance options be the different identities of a single character.

Frankly, as of the season five finale, Adrien is approaching “sexy lamp” levels of replicating sexist ways of writing a female character but just changing the gender. What else do you call him lying on the floor in despair while his love interest gets his superpowers and uses them to beat up his abusive father, while somehow being perfectly fine and happily kissing Marinette later after said father is dead and gone? Adrien’s trauma is debilitating when it serves the writers’ purposes, but stops being a problem as soon as they need him to smile and look pretty. The main reason Adrien’s trauma is so inconsistent is so that he can act as Marinette’s trophy so that Marinette has somebody to kiss in the final shot. If Adrien was despairing about not being good enough for her, or grossly crying about being an orphan, Marinette wouldn’t have a fun time kissing him. And if Marinette isn’t having fun, the members of the audience projecting onto her aren’t having fun either.

Speaking of how Adrien’s depiction relates to Marinette, here comes the controversial part of this post: while Marinette is not depicted as a literal slave owner in-story, narratively, she is very much treated as Adrien's owner from a meta perspective. We, the viewers, are meant to see Adrien as Marinette's property, and the twist of Adrien being a part of a slave race in a dynamic where Marinette holds all the cards is meant to be a good thing. We have been primed to view everything about Adrien to actually be about Marinette, because Marinette is the center of the universe of Miraculous and Adrien belongs to her because he’s the main character’s love interest. Adrien being revealed to be a slave that Marinette could control but then chooses to “merely” manipulate is meant to be glorifying to Marinette and titillating to the viewer. I will elaborate.

Marinette has been incredibly possessive of Adrien since day one and she is only occasionally depicted as being in the wrong about this, when she goes too far by the show’s standards. She stalks Lila and Adrien whenever she sees them hanging out together and she’s unreasonably jealous of Kagami. The only time she is depicted as being in the wrong is not when she's sniffing Adrien's pillow after breaking into his room, but when she actually bullies Kagami out of jealousy, and even that is depicted as more of an unfortunate misunderstanding than Marinette actively doing something wrong. Marinette is more sympathetic towards Kagami when she finds out she and Adrien aren't as close as she thought, that Kagami’s pursuit of Adrien is more hopeless than hers. Basically, Marinette is only in the wrong because Kagami isn't a threat, not because she was doing anything wrong by bullying her to defend her “territory”.

This gets flipped near the end of the season, though. When Adrien and Kagami do start dating, it's depicted as this big tragedy even more so than Master Fu losing his memories. Master Fu going missing is an afterthought, while Adrien choosing someone else over Marinette is the big “darkest hour” moment of the season three mid-finale, the cliffhanger moment of her crying in Luka’s arms while all hope is lost. Marinette isn’t directly crying about this, she is crying from “all the pressure”, but Marinette breaking down happens immediately after a scene of Kagami leaning in to kiss Adrien that has a somber dirge playing in the background. The first part of the finale has everything going wrong at the end; Master Fu is missing, Chloé gets willingly Akumatized, Marinette breaks down, and Kagami leans in to kiss Adrien. These scenes being put closely together is telling us that these are all bad things to happen.

Adrien ending up with Marinette is a given, but it's also taken for granted. Every girl with an interest in Adrien is depicted as an antagonist, while Marinette can do whatever she wants in pursuit of Adrien and will still be morally correct. Chloé and Lila, even Kagami to a degree, are villainized for their attraction to Adrien in a way Nathaniel, Luka or Zoé are not with their attraction to Marinette. Chloé and Lila are full-blown villains while Luka and Zoé are some of the most selfless members of the cast. Kagami is aggressive and socially awkward in a way that is used to justify Marinette's initial distrust and dislike of her (in ‘Ikari Gozen’ Alya voices her pity towards Marinette for having to spend time with her) while Nathaniel is just the pitiful bullied loner who’s still a liked member of the class friend group. Girls who want Adrien are bad for trespassing on Marinette’s territory and trying to “steal” something that “belongs” to Marinette.

The writers thinking Adrien belongs to Marinette is also not just subtext. Later in season five, when Marinette and Adrien finally start dating, Marinette even outright states that Adrien “kinda does a little” belong to her when she’s scared that Zoé has a crush on him. The fumbling of the line means that the writers are aware of how toxic it is to consider your partner your property, but they want to include that sentiment anyway, because that’s how they view the situation. Marinette’s boyfriend is her property and other people can’t even look at her property. ‘Emotion’ continues on this increased possessiveness by having the entire Marinette plot happen because she can’t conceive Adrien keeping things from her, because he isn’t allowed privacy from her while Marinette lying to Adrien (or Cat Noir) is a show staple.

This same attitude of Adrien not being allowed to have romantic options outside of Marinette has also been in the fandom for years. Every time a new female character was introduced, there was a worry that she’d “try to steal Adrien from Marinette”. Marinette and Adrien are endgame, the writers know this and the fandom knows this. The characters don't know this, but it doesn't matter because Adrien was already seen as Marinette's (future) boyfriend even back in season one when he barely knew her. And this attitude the writers and audience have is extended to the characters more and more as the show goes on, as almost every single character becomes an Adrinette shipper in support of Marinette in season five, while no one thinks to ask Adrien what he thinks about this. Only once, in ‘Desperada’ did Alya suggest that Adrien could make his own choice on who to date, but it was implied the choice should be Marinette specifically (Marinette smiles at this, while Kagami frowns). The cast is lucky the writers have decided Adrien already is Marinette's, or he’d be really uncomfortable.

Season five episode ‘Pretension’ goes as far with this as having Marinette basically ask Gabriel for permission to be with Adrien, convinced that she and Adrien can be together with no problems if she can just get him to approve of her. And then Gabriel tells her he’s promised Adrien to Kagami. You know, like a piece of property women were treated as before women were allowed to live without a man to control them. The finale then ultimately does have Gabriel agree to hand Adrien over to Marinette by dying and leaving her in charge of Adrien. Just because she uses the privilege to do some things for Adrien’s benefit doesn’t make what happened any less of a patriarchal transaction. In fact, the writers wrote it that way on purpose, with the knight and princess parallels they set up between Marinette and Adrien earlier in the show being something they are prominently proud of (the “reverse fairytale” as they put it). Adrien is the princess the dashing hero Marinette gets to earn with her feats of bravery; he’s handed to her like a piece of property and Marinette is too happy with her acquisition to even be outraged on Adrien’s behalf. And Adrien wasn’t even allowed to know about any of this, instead it gets handled solely between Marinette and Gabriel, like his opinion on the matter didn’t even matter. And why would his opinion matter, since he already is ready to promise himself to Marinette, even as the writers deny him the agency to actually make such a promise.

The goal of making it obvious that Adrien is cool with being objectified like this is probably why they make Adrien so obsessed with Marinette in season five, constantly repeating her name to himself and saying stuff like: “I can’t stop thinking about you” in ‘Pretension’. They need to drive it home to the audience exactly how okay Adrien is with everyone forcing him to be with Marinette. After all, you can’t force the willing. As of ‘Confrontation’, Adrien’s official goals for the future are: “I love Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” I guess, from the perspective of the writers, the childhood dream of wanting to be what his parents wanted from ‘Wishmaker’ wasn’t sad because of Adrien’s lack of agency; it was sad because he wasn’t forsaking all of his personal pursuits for Marinette specifically. As far as the writers are concerned, Adrien should only care about Marinette and nothing else.

This same entitlement is also present in Ladybug and Cat Noir's relationship. Every time Cat Noir is upset with Ladybug, like in Frozer, Glaciator, Syren, The New York Special or even Kuro Neko, they never talk about what caused it. This is especially blatant in cases where Ladybug has wronged Cat Noir personally, like Kuro Neko or the NY Special, where she never has to face up to what she did wrong because Cat Noir comes back because she “needs him”. Cat Noir will always come back to her without her having to do anything because she is the main character and she says she needs him. He exists for her and her needs. He exists for her; it’s just another way he’s hers.

Speaking of how Adrien is treated affects Marinette, even Adrien’s trauma actually belongs to her in the writing. I pointed out earlier that Adrien’s trauma shows up when the writers need to put him out of commission, but disappears as soon as he needs to be Marinette’s trophy, but it goes further than just inconsistency. The early seasons spend several episodes on how Adrien is being locked up by his father and unable to hang out with his friends and, between him and Marinette, Marinette is the one shown to be more upset and hurt by this. They don’t do this in every episode, as ‘The Bubbler’ actually does a phenomenal job of making Adrien’s upset actually about him, but the big point in ‘Glaciator’ is that Marinette is so upset that she can’t see Adrien that she accidentally leaves Cat Noir on read so he’s upset about that. Adrien is only upset because he didn’t get attention from Marinette, while Adrien’s literal abuse at the hands of his father is only important because it makes Marinette upset. Even Adrien himself gets in on this action in ‘Conformation’ when the writers go as far as having Adrien chastise himself of not being more worthy of Marinette’s love when his dad is once again busy ruining his life. Even Adrien himself makes his abuse about Marinette; him being abused is bad because it’s inconveniencing Marinette and inconveniencing Marinette makes him less worthy of her.

‘Cat Blanc’ is possibly the worst offender of all, though. This episode should be all about how Adrien is abused by Gabriel, culminating with Gabriel turning him into a monster that destroys the world. And yet, what is the episode actually about? It’s about Marinette. The worst thing that could happen to Adrien is about Marinette. Only Marinette gets to remember or even know about the possibility of Cat Noir getting Akumatized and only Marinette is traumatized by it happening. After all that the writers later dare to use this event that didn’t actually happen anymore, that Adrien doesn’t know about, to justify him giving his powers to Marinette, because he’s “scared of getting Akumatized” when something like that has never happened as far as he knows. But the writers had him reason this way anyway, because apparently the culmination of Marinette’s character development in the show means taking Adrien’s power as her own and then failing to win even with that at her disposal.

Another note about ‘The Bubbler’ that has to be pointed out is that it’s also the first example of Marinette being presented as good for Adrien simply because she treats him better than Gabriel. The final scene of Marinette giving Adrien his best birthday present yet and letting him think it comes from Gabriel is done to show how selfless Marinette is by letting Adrien keep thinking good things about his abuser. This idea that Marinette is morally good simply because she’s better than pond scum Gabriel is also present in the season five finale, where Marinette manipulates, gaslights and keeps important information from her abused slave boyfriend. Marinette is presented as being in the right because at least she didn’t literally control him with a magical geas like Gabriel did and gave him the object with which to do so (while notably not telling him what it does). Marinette will do the bare minimum of not taking literal ownership of Adrien and we’re meant to see her as a paragon of goodness for it, while she still has no respect for Adrien’s autonomy and hasn’t had any since the show started.

The way the Sentimonster “reveal” is handled shows this utter lack of respect for Adrien’s autonomy that the writers, and Marinette by extension, have. The reveal is not for Adrien, but for Marinette, just like every other piece of Adrien has been made to be about Marinette. Marinette gets to know and she gets to decide if Adrien gets to know, and she decides “no”. She will manipulate him and lie to him to keep him happy for herself, she will keep important information about him to herself that he might never find out if anything happens to her, because Adrien is hers and no one else’s and she has the right to make that decision because the world revolves around her because the world of Miraculous was created to be her playground. “Adrien” is just a toy on that playground for Marinette to play with as the writers see fit.

Now we’re coming back to Adrien’s role as the sexy, titillating love interest character that I talked about at the start of this essay. If Marinette granting Adrien the bare minimum of freedoms as a slave while manipulating him “for his own good” is meant to be a good thing, why is Adrien even a slave? Well, outside of the writers wanting to add a plot twist that doesn’t come with any messy plot they’d have to write about characters other than Marinette, Adrien being a slave is also meant to be titillating. What really is magical super slavery than very, very off the wall bondage and power play stuff? The idea that Marinette could rob her love interest of his free will with ease but won’t because she cares about him so much is very empowering in two different ways. It gives Marinette all the power in the relationship and it makes her out to be such a good person that even having ultimate power over another person won’t corrupt her. Adding to that, we have Adrien’s people pleaser abuse victim personality, which makes him fawn over the people he loves. If Marinette ever wanted to have control over Adrien, Adrien would give it to her of his own volition, no need for magical super slavery or unbreakable geases.

As I stated earlier, Marinette is meant to be the point of view main character the audience of teen girls projects themselves onto. So, really, Adrien’s slavery and abuse responses are all about that fantasy of having a cute boy you have all the power over but not needing to use it because the boy is so nice and devoted to you anyway. Adrien really is “perfect”, the perfect object of attraction, a being who technically has free will but whose free will you never have to take into account because he’s been designed and trained to value other people’s wants and needs over his own.

Marinette doesn't literally own Adrien within the story, but the writers make it very clear that they think she should. In fact, in all ways except the literal, she already does.

#ml critical #ml writing critical #miraculous ladybug critical #ml meta #ml salt #zagulous fandom #adrien agreste #just like with my 'adrien gets disrespected' post none of these things would be THAT bad by themselves #but it's this much stuff all at once

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

Text

Take it All…

Virgin!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A cute little (lengthy 🤭) story where Natasha gets to fall in love, and be taken care of in all facets 🥰

Warnings: Annoying men, AOU sexist mantra, but I promise it’s super FLUFF!

Smut: Marking(N), Oral (N), Fingering (N), Face-Riding (R), High-Tech Strap(N/R), Marking (N), Kinks: Praising/Degrading, Breeding.

18 + | Minors DNI !!

Natasha is a Swiftie, you will not change my mind.

Natasha Romanoff was no stranger to the process of flirting, truth be told she was an expert at the concept being that she is a reformed spy who's objective once was to topple regimes, and who's focus lied in the art of infiltration, and manipulation. It didn't hurt that she herself was unforgettably gorgeous, walking into a room, and exuding a sort of aura that screamed power and sex. None of the targets found it in them to resist her charms, always leading to success, but funny enough the assassin never ever crossed over the lines.

Never did she sleep with a target, even when they were lower level, and conventionally hot. Her training allowed her to forgo any sort of sexual urges, the 'love is for children' mantra lived in her mind and heart rent free, but more so it just came down to a lack of interest. Being the object of their lusty intentions actually sort of disgusted her, to be seen for the lie she sold them, and never for who she really was—not that she really knew herself at the time, either way it was a massive turn off for the redhead.

—————

It wasn't until she came to America, with the offer of a new lease in life, that her tune began to slowly change. No longer did she allow the Red Rooms brainwashing mantra to influence her, because when she began to find her family in the Barton's she realized just how beautiful, and easy it could be. That there really might be a place for her in the world, and she craved it desperately. Finding it however wasn't an easy feat, because all the casual dates she went on ended with roaming hands, and visits to the infirmary for the many that had dared try it.

Natasha played a part in her own demise at times though, the art of flirting was engrained in her, so of course she'd use it to her benefit. Flustering the men and women of Shield, and then eventually her team of Avengers fell prey, it filled her with a childlike glee really. Causing the oh so powerful Captain America to redden like a tomato and fumble over his words always made her day, but with them it was all a game. One might say she was a tease, but she never offered them false hope, just lighthearted, flirty banter, more like an ego boost than anything.

Never would she dare date any of them, because they too stared at her like an object. Drooling over her on undercover missions, or at one of the many parties thrown by Stark. Bruce, and Steve would be obvious with their intentions as the night drug on, and she would always retire to her room early to avoid the awkward shutting down of their advances.

Being desired wasn't the problem, because at the end of the day a relationship would need to involve such a concept. For Natasha it was the lack of further interest, she saw the way Clint and Laura communicated with just a glance, or how they'd cuddled up after a long time apart over the Hollywood image of steamy reunions. Intimacy on all levels is what she'd craved, and she was rather disappointed to have never known it. Especially as she was approaching thirty, and was still by all accounts a virgin.

No one could tell by looking at her, but at heart she was a hopeless romantic, and no one would ever believe her if they knew she'd yet to even be kissed. She was an expert at many things, avoidance being one of those, because even with her need to draw targets in, she'd avoided their advances, playing coy with a purposeful cheek landing; securing her lips untouched.

As the time flew by she had thought maybe she was wrong, that maybe she was destined to be alone forever, so much so that she'd even found comfort in her solitude, but that ache still laid deep within her, and a part of her never gave into the doubt. Much to her shock a beacon of hope came into her life about a year ago, as you were recruited for the team by Fury and Stark. There was something different about you from the start, an almost innocence to your stride, and more importantly to her a sense of respect.

It was crazy really, you were always polite, and never did she really find your gaze predatory. She'd caught you glancing every once in awhile, expressing clear interest in her appearance, but your eyes also spoke of something deeper. Which was only evidenced by your constant use of silly little ice breakers as you worked hard to break down the redheads steel walls. Friendship, something she'd only experienced on a surface level with her other teammates, barring Clint, was what you were going for.

Natasha was initially taken aback by your eagerness to befriend her, but after a few months of her giving you lackluster responses, it soon became easy for her to incorporate you into her everyday. Like every morning when at breakfast where she learned you loved the company, but also required the quietude. She'd watch as you downed two mugs of cocoa before even uttering a word, then she would happily listen to your rambles while biting into whatever nutritious meal you'd have made.

Movie nights were spent sharing a couch, a bowl of popcorn sat perfectly in the middle, and she'd always make sure to reach for it whenever you did, sending you a shy smile as your hand's fumbled over one another. Simple touches like that became an addiction for her. Every chance she had got to touch you, best believe she took it: her head on your shoulder as she "fell" asleep during the movie, a hand on your back as she "squeezed" on by, but her favorite was being pinned to the ground by you in training sessions. Even if she flustered under your gaze embarrassingly fast, she'd always run off to her room after with impure thoughts to guide the inexperienced hands pleasuring her.

She was a virgin, not a prude.

Her metaphorical walls that were meant to be sturdy like steel, were instead more akin to the crumbling Great Barrier Reef of today's world.

Letting you in being easy did shock her, but what really threw her off was the loss of game. Everything Natasha knew about flirting went out the window with you around. Signature smirks were traded in for dopey lovesick smiles, and that natural flow of teasing words of hers was replaced with an inability to speak. All it took for you to change Natasha's life was six months, she was putty in your unknowing hands. You'd actually rendered her speechless on more than one occasion, with just a glance from across the room her conversations would come to a halt, just so she could gawk at you.

Kind of like now., "Natasha, you are, as the American kids would say: 'Down bad.'," the blonde mumbles to her sister, who was nearly drooling as you exited the gym in a sports bra, and pair of basketball shorts., "Ask her out.," Clint adds from her side, and she turns to face them in bewilderment., "Are you two crazy?"

Yelena smirks as she notices you doing the same, it was clear to her you were onto Nat, but she definitely didn't expect you to boldly make your way over., "Hey guys, what's going on?," you casually greeted the threesome, and the pair behind Natasha who'd immediately turned to face you share a mischievous look., "Oh my, Clint Barton, would you look at the time."

Clint genuinely looks to his watch, then clarity washes over him., "We have a meeting with Fury in less than ten, we better get going, will you keep an eye on Nat for us?," you watch as the redheads brow twitches but her shy smile remains., "She's a bit of a troublemaker if left unsupervised.," the archer teases further, but he leaves it at that, knowing better than to test his luck any further as the pair slip on out.

"Don't I know it.," you playfully shout at their nearly departed forms, but you looked directly at the gorgeous woman before you, who only furthers her adorableness as she pouts., "I'm not a troublemaker.," she brushed passed you feigning offense, but really she was just getting rather hot under your intense gaze, so she went straight to the kitchen to get a cup of ice water., "Yeah, then who hacked into Tony's suit, and made him fly backwards for a whole hour?"

Natasha's head falls as she tries to hide her blush of embarrassment at being caught, something she could normally do easily, just never around you. It was as if you were like her own walking, breathing lie detector., "Not I.," she cursed herself as her voice had cracked. That being your fault too since you suddenly had a hand on her hip, it was innocent as you'd been using her for leverage to reach the mugs directly above her, but her thoughts were anything but as your cleavage landed in her direct eye line., "Well then I guess it'll remain the greatest mystery of our generation."

Natasha giggled, actually physically giggled, and her entire body froze at the foreign sound. Never in her life had she expressed humor so softly before, her cheeks flushed at the notion that you'd softened her this much already., "Cocoa?," she was pulled from her moment of silly panic by your voice, the offer of a warm mug of cocoa accompanied by your smile more than enough to settle her current reservations.

After her nod in approval you began to collect all your ingredients, puzzling the woman as she'd never seen cocoa made this way before. In a pan you'd scooped in your cocoa powder, followed by a pinch of salt, then whisked in your pre-boiling water. After it simmered for a few minutes, you added in your milk of choice, then removed it from the heat where you added a splash of vanilla and mixed it all up., "That's different.," you caught her curious gaze, then chuckled as she realized she spoke aloud., "Promise it's so much better too.," a blush rushed to her cheeks as you winked at her before returning to the task at hand.

Once you deemed it ready for the mugs, you divided it up evenly, then to bring the drink over the top you added in a dash of half and half to elevate the drink's texture. Just when she thought you were done you'd began to scavenge for even more ingredients, such as tiny marshmallows that you dropped into the steaming mugs., "Cream?," she nodded again as you shook the can before her face, then she gasped as you squirt it onto her nose., "Y/N!"

All you could do was cackle at the sight of her, the dollop of cream nearly melting off her nose as you scooped it off with your finger then the redheads brain short circuited as you plopped it into your mouth in an unbothered manner. The opposite of how she now stood, hot and bothered, as your satisfied moans filled the space, being followed up by the loud spray of the can as you overfilled the mugs with the creamy perfection., "Here you go Natty."

The woman took her mug, albeit shakily as she pondered how something so simple in nature could make her feel this way. Then she quickly remembers that most days all it takes is a smile from you for her knees to nearly buckle. She is grateful in this moment as you're so into the drink that you'd missed her intense staring. Well, she assumed you did, but you were just simply forgoing a teasing smile as you were invested in the creamy cocoa.

"Jesus Y/L/N, drink anymore of that powdered shit and I'm sure you'll be sponsored in no time.," Stark's teasing voice breaks the happy bubble between you and the assassin, and just as you were about to taunt him back as the both of you were known for doing Natasha speaks instead., "Yeah, as I'm sure will be the case for you and the Viagra I saw in your lab.," she casually mused while sipping down the warm beverage., "Can you imagine it? Iron Man and his Iron Rod of a success story?"

Tony left the kitchen in a dramatic huff, and as soon as he was out of earshot you were cackling maniacally. The call out was so uncalled for, but a small smattering of pride filled your chest as you realize she was clearly defending you. You'd always heard about Natasha's cold ways, but you thought them to be a fable since she'd only ever graced you with perceivable softness. This only furthers your surmounting belief that she's as smitten with you as you are her, and this shared moment with her leaves you feeling rather emboldened to test out your theory.

"What?," Natasha questions in a hushed tone, the way you're suddenly staring at her so softly, but almost teasingly leaves her skin crawling., "You're adorable Natty, did you know that?," her face instantly flushed, and you smirked., "Coming to my defense like that; it's sweet."

Natasha was stumped for a response, she'd been called many things before, but adorable and sweet didn't come close., "It makes me think my suspicions about you are right.," she gulped before finding her squeaky voice., "What suspicions?," you settled both of your mugs down, then gently grabbed her hands., "That you're into me.," she was about to protest, her heart hammering in her chest at being caught, and potentially tossed aside., "Like in the exact same way that I'm into you."

"So, if I'm right here, I'd hope you'd willingly accompany me to dinner tonight.," the hope twinkling in your eyes was promising, and it about nearly knocked the redhead off her feet., "Y-Yes, I would love to accompany you.," she stuttered, something she'd never done before in her life, but she was far too excited to care., "Meet me out front at 5pm sharp, it's a date.," you left with a soft kiss to her cheek, smirking rather victoriously as you left the kitchen.

"A date.," Natasha repeated your words, her hand reaching up to graze over her warmed cheek like a giddy school girl, she sighed dreamily just before she was rushing out of the kitchen in a panic... What would she wear, among other things flashing in her mind.

Yelena and Clint beamed at their triumph, and hugged in a moment of blinding excitement., "If you ever tell anyone about this, I will end you Clinton Barton.," the elder man nodded, then the meddling duo quickly dispersed.

—

Natasha's shaky hands brushed out the front of her dress that didn't even reach her knees. It'd taken her an hour alone to pick out the outfit, but once she found the little red number in the back of her closet she was instantly relieved. There was no way you wouldn't find her to be undeniably ravishing in it, and that's exactly what she wants from tonight. To entice you, leave you on the edge of your seat, and unable to picture a life outside of one with her, and if she were being honest, she wants to be railed.

Nerves clearly overran her decision making tonight, because any common fool could see you didn't need the assistance in falling for her. Natasha wasn't much of a common though, never before you had she ever been considered one, but there's a first time for everything... Natasha spritzed herself with a classic cologne, a delicious scent of spiced vanilla covered her, she slipped into a pair of black stilettos, then she sighed before she made her way down to you with only about ten minutes to spare.

When you heard her approaching from behind you couldn't help but to smile, but you kept your cool while facing away, waiting for her lithe fingers to tap you on your shoulders. Natasha was nervous when she saw the furrow in your brow, a stark contrast to the previous smile., "Natty, aren't you cold?," her heart melted at your concern, but she brushed it off with a soft giggle., "I'm actually burning up."

It wasn't far from the truth either, seeing you in your suit had her mouth running dry., "Are those for me?," she deflected from her outfit, and moved onto the black and red roses in your hand with a giant smile on her face., "Yes.," you nodded nervously, she excitedly pulled the bouquet up to her nose to breathe in the aroma, and while she did you moved to remove your jacket, and put it over her shoulders.

Cutting her rebuttal off with the knowledge that she'd literally just shivered you then guided her over to your Jeep, helping her in, and buckling her in for extra precaution. Natasha was working on calming her nerves as you slowly rounded your car, not only were you not ogling her like she's used to, but you're also caring for her in ways she'd never experienced. It was so foreign to her, part of her worried you might not be as into her as you initially let on, but the sight of you smiling at her as you entered the car reminded her that the unknown isn't all bad, especially not when you're the one steering the ship, and are kind enough to hold her fidgeting hand as you do it.

The restaurant you took her to was beautiful, a little Italian joint on the corner of the street. There was a homey feeling to it that she wasn't used to, but it was comforting to say the least. Most people who took her out on dates were trying to impress her with flashy joints in the elite areas of the city, but she didn't need that; money and power wasn't the way to her heart. It was moments like this, spent beneath dim lights that hardly showcased the menu, with a goofball that covered her eyes and read the contents to her by heart that managed to do so.

Granted, you'd already had her heart before the dinner, but this hilarious display just assured her that you definitely were meant to have it. Natasha ordered the shrimp scampi after you raved on about it for ages, then she quirked a brow as you yourself ordered the five cheese raviolis., "What? This way I can have a bite of your delicacy, and enjoy my cheesy goodness.," Natasha snorted., "Oh? Who says I'm sharing?"

She did in fact share with you too, because as soon as you pulled out the puppy dog eyes she found she wasn't exactly capable of saying no. It wasn't unfair though, as you reached across the table with your fork held out., "Shit, Y/N, why have you been keeping this place a secret? All of this food is delicious.," she exclaimed over the bite of ravioli, and you beamed at her words., "Had to keep it at the ready for a date with a pretty girl.," her face fell slightly, clearly missing your teasing tone, but yours instantly softened at the obvious confusion on hers.

"Natasha.," she hummed while giving you her attention., "You're the pretty girl.," the woman immediately smiled shyly at the way you spoke of her in such ways, she's more used to being called hot or sexy by desperate people, she's truly never heard something as delicate before. Internally she felt embarrassment filling her at her cluelessness—of course you meant her, her self deprecating mind quieted down though when your hand settled over hers on the table., "Eat up beautiful, I can't wait for the cannolis."

Natasha loved everything about you really, but this childlike excitement of yours has to be one of the most endearing qualities you carry. Her eyes were amused, watching your lips move at record speed as you giddily ordered the sweet. When you turned back to face her she smiled warmly, her heart absolutely full as you subtly linked your hand with hers and urged her to talk. It's the best feeling in the world to be at the center of your attention, and have your eyes meet hers as she spoke about genuine interests.

With you she's able to just be, there's no pressure to uphold conversations filled with small talk, or to flaunt off her assets to keep your attention. She realized as you spoke to her so animatedly about the modifications you were making to her guns that she'd always just had it, no matter if she was in her pajamas or a revealing dress, and that truly settled all of her remaining doubts about you becoming hers.

As you escorted her back out into the cold New York night she instantly shivered, using the moment as an excuse to push back into you as you guided her to your vehicle., "Here, warm the car up, I'm sure I have warmer clothes for you in the back, you're going to need them.," she didn't question you, but she was curious to know what else you had planned for the night.

After slipping into your backseat she slipped out of her dress as you kindly waited outside in the cold, she was grinning as she slipped your sweat suit on, and she shamelessly snuggled into it with a sigh as your scent encased her., "Wow, you look so beautiful in my clothes.," Natasha's eyes caught the way yours darkened momentarily before returning to their normal shade, and she shuffled a bit as the sight of you in your lusty state put her into one of her own, or more so it just spurred on the one that's been steadily building within her all day long., "Th-thank you.," you winked., "No, thank you."

Natasha giggled, and your heart fluttered at the infectious sound., "Shall we go?," she pursed her lips playfully., "Depends, where to?," you rolled your eyes while helping her into the passengers seat., "You'll see in due time."

Natasha was about to question your next move, but then she was too busy DJing, as you gave her your phone in an obvious attempt to distract her, it clearly worked, and you smiled in amusement as she sang without fear beside you., "The more that you say, the less I know. Wherever you stray, I follow I'm begging for you to take my hand.," you noted her passion, and her shockingly good vocals, and decided it best that she always control the aux cord so you'd forever be blessed with her hidden talent.

"TSwizzle fan are we?," you teased as you put the car in park and turned to look at her., "That's a silly question, of course I am, and if you're not you might as well take me home.," she huffed, but you could see she was joking., "Oh?," you went to reach for the keys, but she quickly stopped you., "Calm yourself honey, I was only removing them from the ignition."

"Red's really her best album.," you suddenly proclaimed and the redhead gasped in offense while accepting your help out of your car., "Absolutely not! It's a masterpiece sure, but let's not act like Folklore isn't right there.," you chuckled lightly., "Natasha, are you okay?!," she gasped and slapped your shoulder, causing you to chuckle even harder., "Am I okay? Are you?! I bet All Too Well is your favorite track."

A shrug was all Natasha needed to know she was right, her smug smile telling you as such, but before she could rub her win in your face she was stopping in her tracks at the sight., "Holy shit, the city's beautiful when you're not stuck in it.," her honesty brought a smirk to your face., "Yeah, I love to come here when the world gets a bit too much, it's therapeutic."

Natasha internally beamed at the knowledge that you'd brought her to not one, but two of your special places, it was heartwarming that you trusted her enough to let her in like this. Then her heart nearly combusted when you wrapped your arms around her from behind, letting her settle into your warmth while the both of you stared over the bridge and at the distant twinkling of the New York City skyline.

The silence that surrounded the two of you was surprisingly comforting, her ability to hear your soft huffs along with the distant traffic and crickets chirping were more than enough for her as she was completely relaxed in your tight hold., "Natty.," she hummed, too afraid to use her voice while your breath fans across her skin., "Are you interested in sharing a dance?"

"Good, let me show you Taylor's best.," you teased the redhead while pulling back to pull out your phone, missing the way she whined at the loss of contact in your obvious excitement., "Take my hand darling, and let me woo you."

Natasha took your hand with a playful shake of her head, allowing you to pull her against you, the proximity left her speechless, and the way you looked down at her made her blush wildly. It took her by surprise when you spun your bodies around to the upbeat song, but she quickly fell in line and found herself smiling unabashedly as you sung the lyrics sillily.

"Before you, I'd only dated self-indulgent takers; who took all of their problems out on me.," the lyrics spoke too deeply to the woman's soul as she is reminded of all of the horrors that came before you., "But you carry my groceries and now I'm always laughing.," she smiled though at the realization that she now had you., "I love you because you have given me no choice but to: stay, stay, stay.," and as she listened to the words leaving your lips, with her hand resting over your chest, she could feel her heart beating in sync with yours; she just hoped this intense feeling would last forever, and not be a fleeting moment in time.

The two of you eventually managed to sway your bodies all the way back to your car, you fell into the Jeep in a fit of nervous giggles as the song faded out into All Too Well. When you looked up though, noticing that Natasha was still leaning against your body, it was all too suddenly that the lightness in the air faded. Natasha stared at you so intensely as the light of the moon lit up your features, you just looked so damn beautiful, and in a moment of bravery she fell into you, planting her lips to yours; making her inexperience obvious.

When you didn't initially respond to her bold advances she felt worry consuming her entire being, did she read the moment wrong? But they were instantly quelled as you laid your hands over her hips, shifting the position and pushing her body into the car while your lips took over the momentum of the heated kiss. Natasha was grateful to be leaning into your car, because when your tongue slowly slipped into her mouth her knees nearly buckled.

Instinctively you could feel the way her hips jutted, causing you to still in your movements, and for her to whine as you pulled away entirely., "Nat, I don't want to rush things.," she desperately held onto the collar of your shirt when you tried to take a step back., "Y/N, I've waited my whole life for this moment, and I'm nothing short of sure with you, so please."

The lingering suspicion was met with her truth, and you almost felt bad with how excited it made you to know you'd be the first, and if you're fortunate, hopefully the last to have Natasha in such ways, but you were still a bit unsure., "Are you sure Natasha?," your thumb trailed over the apple of her flushed cheek, and she was quick to nod eagerly., "Use your words honey.," you smiled softly, and she melted into your hand., "I'm sure Y/N, please, take it all."

The drive back to the compound was shorter than usual, but with the use of side streets, and with your foot slammed to the gas pedal it was a blink of an eye before you and the redhead were stumbling into your bedroom. Her lip's eagerly pressed to yours, and you quick to reciprocate while guiding her body to the bed. The both of you tumbled down together, but before it got anymore heated you pulled back., "Natasha.," she tried to shush you., "I'm sure."

You shook your head with an amused smile., "Trust me baby, I know.," you reassured her with a knowing glance, the heat radiating from between her legs was enough of a telltale sign., "I'm just...," you paused, readjusting so that you could straddle her, hands cupping her cheeks as your eyes blossomed with such care., "I really like you Natasha—I want you, more than anything really, to be mine wholly.," she smirked up at you, this sudden change in your demeanor amused her, the nervousness was obvious, but she was perplexed on how you'd even ended up worried., "I'm all yours Y/N, so please, help me out here, I-I need you."

You cut her pleading off with your lips to hers, it was delicate, because as much as you wanted to tear her apart, you were far too aware of this being her first time, and you wanted to give her all the power., "More, please.," she began to shuffle uncomfortably from beneath you, so you were quick to remove both of your top layers, allowing her a bit more contact before your lips were on hers again, she whimpered into your mouth when your nipples brushed over her own, and your tongue slid into her mouth while you pressed your pelvis to hers.

Teasingly you kept a steady pace as to work her up, not that she really needed it, but slow and steady was always the best way to go when you were learning another's body., "Tell me baby, do I have permission to mark you as mine?," she moaned at the thought., "Fuck, please do.," you smirked against her lips, then you began to trail your lips down her taut jawline, taking extra care to ensure you'd find her sweet spot, and when you finally sucked her earlobe between your teeth you found yourself victorious as she gasped, and shuffled beneath your body., “Please, I-I need more detka.”

“Patience my dear, I will take such good care of you, don’t you worry.,” your lips continued to move down her body, slowly leaving behind varying degrees of markings, and pulling the most delicious whimpers from the mess of a woman as you found even more sensitive spots., “So receptive baby, just keep making those pretty noises for me, and show mommy just how good she’s making you feel.”

Natasha’s eyes widened at your given title, it made her body shiver in anticipation of when she’d get to call it out, her thighs rubbing together beneath you showed you just how affected she was., “Patience baby, spread your legs for me honey, be mommy’s good girl.,” she whined at your command, but she shocked herself really with how pliant she had become., “There you go baby, promise I’m going to take care of you, just trust me, and the process.”

Impatience fueled her, but she knew you knew what you were doing, the thought alone came with waves of jealousy, but it settled easily whenever you laid another kiss to her hot skin, or better yet left another deep mark, claiming her as yours, and in turn making you hers. Natasha immediately rose her hips off the bed when she felt the tips of your fingers push passed the hem of her-your-sweats, and you kindly held back a chuckle at her eagerness.

The sight of her bare cunt shocked you, she was not nearly as innocent as she was playing it if she wore your clothing over her bareness., “Natasha, you are such a needy little whore.,” you couldn’t hold back your thoughts, and it seemed beneficial when her arousal dripped onto the sheets and she whined, almost as if she was in immense pain with how turned on you’ve made her., “Please, mommy, it hurts.,” you chuckled tauntingly as you laid between her thighs., “My beautiful, filthy whore…”

In slow succession you began to move closer to her core, leaving more marks on her thighs, and the woman whined and gasped the whole time as you cycled between sucking and biting. It was taking everything in you not to move to just devouring her, but the love you held for the special woman kept your carnality at bay, and left you with the need to not rush things., “Baby, we’re at the point of no return, but if you need me to stop, just whisper ‘widow’.,” you held eye contact with the dizzy girl from over her glistening mound, your quirked brow telling her to speak., “I understand mommy.”

“Good girl.,” you mumbled against her thigh, then with your hands splayed over them you held them down against the bed, and slowly trailed your tongue up her slit., “Oh fuck!,” and just as you’d expected the strong muscles beneath your fingertips tensed, fighting your hold as they tried to close around your head., “Keep them open for me honey.,” your words were met with attempted obedience as she calmed down, but as soon as your lips wrapped around her clit and offered the tiniest bit of pressure you were grateful that you decided to hold them down anyways, because your mouth was unrelenting as it brought her to tears.

“Mommy, I-I.,” she whimpered, her body was in a state of unfamiliar territory, and it was up to you to ease her., “Sh, whatever you’re feeling is part of the process honey, just let go.,” Nat was stressed that you were misinformed here, the urge to pee was strong, but it wasn’t an urge she could fight as your tongue plunged deep into her, and successfully threw her into a blinding state of bliss she’d yet to experience.

Natasha was breathing harshly as you trailed your way back up her body, fingers gently circling over her hip in a gentle comfort, and your body laid atop of hers to ground her., “How are you feeling love?,” she smiled in lieu of a response, and you returned the gesture., “Are you satisfied? Or shall I continue, hm?,” her thighs rubbed together when your raspy voice hit her., “Please don’t stop, I want it all.”

“As you wish.,” you winked, then met her lips in a passionate kiss as your fingers danced over her skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps on there way to her puffy cunt, where they met no resistance, but were still as gentle as can be as only one of them surpassed her entrance., “Shit.,” you swallowed the grunt, but moved your kisses to her neck in an attempt to distract her from the unfamiliar feeling of your finger., “It’s going to sting baby, but I promise it’ll only be temporary, but do remember the safe word.”

After a few seconds you began to remove the finger before slowly reentering her, setting a slow pattern to get her used to the feeling. Natasha felt the exact moment the pain became pleasurable, and she moaned languidly against your earlobe to let you know. You moved to introduce a second finger, and were met with a pained gasp, but as you started to pump them into her at a steady pace she became a moaning mess that was only further turning you on.

Her walls clenched around your fingers with every thrust, you also noticed that when you groaned they’d flutter uncontrollably, and you found that to be extremely hot., “Fuck, baby you’re taking me so well.,” you smirked against her neck when her cunt sucked you in further., “God baby, you have such a greedy little cunt.,” she moaned, partially at your words, and even more so at the way you curled your fingers so torturously slow from within her.

“I-I think I’m close.,” you hummed while sucking on her heated skin., “Then let go for your mommy.,” you bit into her neck, and she quite literally shrieked in a mix of pain and pleasure, her back arched off the bed while her thighs trembled, and you returned your lips to hers to quiet down her unrelenting screams as your fingers lazily rode her through her high.

Once her body seemed to be calming down you removed your fingers from her, and she cried., “I want more, please.,” your eyes widened., “Fucking hell baby, you’re insatiable.,” you traced a line of her own slick over her lips, then nodded in encouragement, smiling when she took the hint, and used her tongue to clean it off as you did the same to your shining fingers., “You taste divine, like the holiest of nectars.,” she beamed at your words, then she pouted when you looked to be leaving the bed.

“I can’t give you more unless you give me a chance to collect it.,” you winked at her before entering your closet and procuring your latest science experiment with an excited smirk. A soft groan left your lips as you slipped the end of your strap into you, clenching purposely you watched as the shaft responded with a twitch., “Fuck, this is going to be everything.,” you groaned then made quick work of returning to the needy redhead laid atop of your bedsheets.

“Oh shit.,” her eyes were wide when she saw the almost human like appendage dangling from between your legs, it looked so realistic that she almost wondered if you were a sorcerer., “Think you can handle mommy’s cock baby?,” she nodded dumbly, a response that was inspired by her eager cunts pulsing., “Yes, please just give it to me already.,” after she spoke you wasted no time hovering above her, and slowly you moved your hips, getting the silicone covered in her abundant slick.

“This is going to sting love, but I’ll be gentle.,” she tensed, but when your thumb slowly began to stimulate her clit she settled into the bed., “Relax baby, it’ll be smoother if you do.,” she happily reciprocated the kiss when you laid your lips to hers, but then she accidentally bit your lip as you began to inch the strap passed her entrance., “I’m sorry mommy, I—.,” you shushed her quickly, then began to pick the momentum of the kiss up to distract her as best you could from the toys unfamiliar stretch.

Once you felt your pelvis meet hers you were in awe at the sight, seeing her taking you in so well was truly astonishing., “Baby look down.,” she lifted her head in a daze, then threw it back into the pillows after she saw the way you had filled her so well., “Are you ready,” she smiled up at you excitedly., “Fuck me hard mommy.”

Even with her encouragement you started out slow, knowing her excitement wasn’t riddled in awareness, and you were certain she was grateful for that as her nails dug into you with every shallow thrust you rewarded her with. There wasn’t going to be a long process here, with how worked up you already were, and how sensitive she was it was bound to be a short endeavor, you prolonged it as best you could, but with every clench of her walls around the strap you were hit with a vibration on your end that had you panting wildly.

“I’m going to let you in on a secret baby.,” you grunted while drilling the strap into her at a picked up pace., “Mommy’s cock is full, and she’s going to bust any second now, filling you up with her babies, and making you scream.,” Natasha’s heart ached at the notion, but her pussy also fluttered rapidly around the strap, causing you to do the same on your end as it all became too much, and with a final thrust the cum reservoir was activated, and Natasha’s body jolted up as she screamed in pleasure.

Natasha wrapped her arms around your back, and buried her face in your chest as she was overwhelmed by the feeling of you gushing inside of her, and you two fell into heap on the mattress as you were desperately trying to calm yourself down after the intense orgasm you just experienced, and Natasha could sense that you were struggling a bit so she did her best to comfort you even in her own state, and the feeling of her hand carting through your hair was enough to honestly make your heart burst.

“Such a good girl.,” you praised while laying gentle kisses across her collarbones to help further bring the both of you back down., “Making mommy so proud baby, so fucking proud.,” Natasha was a fast learner, even in her dizzy state she could feel everything you did to her, and every bit of her wanted to reciprocate., “Mommy, can I please try?,” you smiled down at her softly, then pecked her pleading lips., “You’ve been such a good girl for me, so how about I ride that pretty face of yours, hm?!,” she nodded vigorously, but then she was quick to correct herself., “Yes, please do it.”

Standing up quickly you removed the strap from within you, wincing slightly as it left you, then carefully you had moved until you were hovering above her head., “Stick your tongue out baby, and tap my thigh if you need me to get off, no pressure at all, just have fun.,” you could see her smiling, her tongue slowly wetted her lips as she stared at your dripping center, then after her moment of gawking she listened.

Natasha’s arms were instantly wrapped around your plush thighs, and her tongue was flattened as you settled atop her face, she instantly moaned when your arousal touched her tongue, and you groaned at the vibrations making her feel an overwhelming sense of pride to have been able to please you already. It’d helped the inexperienced girl that you were already sensitive, but as you began to grind against her face you realized she was simply a natural, she belonged between your thighs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re doing so well, mommy’s going to cum, is that okay?,” you panted from above her as you felt yourself about to let go, but you still didn’t want to overwhelm her., “Fuck.,” you moaned when you felt her mumbling her approval, and in a moments time your movements became more erratic as you worked to prolong your high, but when you came back to yourself you quickly clambered off of her, only to find Natasha’s dopey smile to greet you as your slick drenched her face., “That was fucking epic.,” you chuckled at her innocence, then moved to lay atop of her again.

“You’re so fucking perfect Natasha.,” the smile you received made your heart flutter, and you felt the urge to kiss her deeply to reiterate the previous sentiment., “Thank you Y/N/N.,” you only kissed her deeper., “It was my pleasure.”

Natasha’s body settled atop of yours the second it hit the mattress, and your arm was quick to tug her even closer which resulted in a long, happy sigh leaving her swollen, pink lips., “Rest now love, we’ll clean you up in a bit.,” you whispered, and felt relieved when her body relaxed the rest of the way into yours.

—

"I-I need to tell you something.," Nat shakily whispers, breaking the perceived peaceful silence, and you shift to sit as she'd done, your body briefly tensed with fear that she’d become regretful after all, but you grabbed her hands while smiling comfortingly anyways., "Natty, you can tell me anything. What is it that's troubling you sweetheart?,” your heart nearly broke when you saw how terrified she looked.

"In the Red Room, where I was trained, where I was raised, they have a graduation ceremony. They sterilize you. It's efficient – one less thing to worry about – the one thing that might matter more than a mission. Makes everything easier, even killing.," her voice shakes as she fidgets with your fingers, avoiding your eyes; likely full of pity, or to her fear—disgust., "Bruce isn't the only monster on the team..."

"Oh Natasha.," you coo, immediately bringing her rigid form into your lap, embracing her wholly, and rocking her as she begins to tremble., "You are not a monster!"

"What happened to you wasn't right, and all that they made you do wasn't your fault.," you stop briefly, trying to regain your composure even though all you wanted to do was cry with her., "Nothing you could say to me will change my mind. You, Natasha Romanoff, are one of a kind in the best ways possible. I've cherished every moment spent with you, and you are so much more than your body to me.," Natasha was overwhelmed with emotion as you spoke, pulling back from your chest, and slamming her lips to yours, desperately needing to feel you, and the comfort of your touch to go along with the words she always needed to hear.

After allowing her the chance to control the moment you eventually pulled back, offering her the softest smile you could muster while wiping away the tears that covered her face., "Being able to bare a child doesn't reflect your worth, but if down the line you're able to love one then I can see us going the distance.," she smiled at you so brightly that you couldn't fight the widening of your own smile., "The distance with you sounds like a dream come true Y/N."

A budding bubble of hope blanketed the both of you as you laid her down, and continued on to show her just how much you planned to love her right; to love her as she always deserved.

Natasha was overwhelmed by the warmth of your love, she smiled softly against your chest, very grateful she waited this long, because she doubts anyone else would've been as tender with her as you were., "I love you Y/N/N.," her whispered words caught you off guard, your hand having been rubbing soft circles into her exposed hip in comfort., "I love you too Natty."

Natasha, tired as she was, burrowed her face into your neck as you returned her feeling's without any doubt present in your voice. It took a lot for her to admit it, and it paid off; you mirrored her features as she smiled against your skin, before she began laying tired kisses to the bare skin in silent affection. Your hand never stopped moving comfortingly, and so it wasn't long before her kisses were replaced by soft puffs of air, and adorable little snores., "Goodnight my love, here's to our forever.," your heart skipped at the prospective future as your eyes fluttered shut; following in her lead.

——

The warm sun splaying across your face in the late hours of the morning arose you from your deepest slumber. Without even opening your eyes you began to stretch out your sore body, the sounds of your bones cracking causing a knowing smile to overtake your face at the memories of the night before. Though it was quickly replaced by a deep frown when you rolled over, and realized the bed was empty.

Sitting up you took the blankets with you, preserving your modesty while you got your bearings. The bedside tables clock flashed 9:00am, and you had an idea for where your lover had ended up. Missing her led to you slipping out of the warm bed and into your ensuite, where you took a quick shower before you slowly made your way to the living room.

"Annabella, and Erin keep it down.," Natasha shushed the five year olds., "Mama's asleep., Your chest fluttered with affection at your wife's attempts to protect your slumber. Natasha might not have birthed the little redheads with the bright green eyes, but from the strikingly similar looks, down to their feisty nature, they were hers—through and through.

"Come again?," your teasing voice traveled throughout the living room, being followed up by a chorus of squeals as your daughters wasted no time rushing into your open arms., "Mama!! We missed you so much!," you pecked their little cheeks., "I missed you little gremlins so much more.," the girls giggled wildly in your hold as your fingers jabbed into their sides., "Mama, please stooooop.," Anabella whined, while Erin stuck to squirming in her protest.

Natasha watched you all from the kitchen, allowing her favorite couple of girls their moment with you before she could have hers. Her gaze was riddled with a mix of love, and impatience, because as much as she adored your mother persona, she much preferred your snuggly wife persona in the mornings., "Girls, go get cleaned up, and we can go to the park.," she clapped her hands together to emphasize her point, and the girls squirmed from your arms in a rush. Nat smirked at you in triumph, and you just rolled your eyes before opening your arms to her, and instantly exciting her.

"Yelena brought them back about an hour ago, I'm sorry we couldn't wake up together.," your wife's muffled grumbling flowed into your shirt, but you managed to catch the words, a soft chuckle leaving you at her clear contempt., "We couldn't get the forever babysitter deal?,"you gasped, humoring your apparently jilted lover., "The nerve of the girl, even after we watched Fanny for a whole three months earlier this year."

A dogs bark pulled your attention from the teasing nature, your wife stilled along with you., "Yeah, stupid Fury and his missions.," you chuckled at the fuller picture, then at the sound of nearby babbling you peaked into the kitchen to see your son sat in his high chair beating his cup into the sensory play mat on the tray., "Well that's one way to experiment with it buddy.," then as if the world didn't want to give Natasha a break, a loud noise erupted.

Natasha was reluctant to pull away from you, but she heard the booming noise upstairs, so after she groaned exaggeratedly into your chest she did so, pouting up at you until you got the hint. A hum of contentment left her as your lips pressed to hers so tenderly., "There's hot cakes on the counter for you, eat up hot stuff.," you snorted as you pulled away from the kiss, then you watched as her smirking form left to handle the chaotic girls, and you moved into the kitchen to eat, while cuddling with your smallest man., "Mommy's a silly goose. Isn't she Rico?," he babbled incoherently in your hold, but you could almost swear he said 'yeah'

Natasha met you in the car with the deviants, their somber expressions feigning remorse, but the mischief stirring around their eyes told you they weren't sorry in the slightest. As your wife joined you up front you looked to her, but the tight smile told you not to even ask, so you didn't. Her hand soon found yours, softly settling over it as it rested atop the gear shift, she'd been squeezing it in random successions of three as you drove, making you smile, and after a few times you'd flipped your hand over to link with hers., "I love you too.," conveyed in the simplest of gestures, your wife smiled over at you warmly, and thanked the heavens above that she let you in all those years ago.

She finally found her place in this world with the help of your unwavering love, and started this beautiful family. All of her dreams having come to fruition—well almost all of them., "Detka?," you hummed as you carefully pulled into the parking lot of the three story park., "Can we get a cat?," you snorted at the randomness, pulling your connected hands up to your lips to deposit a sweet kiss shortly after., "Whatever you want my love, you get.," truth be told you'd give Natasha anything she asked for, because no one in the world was more deserving in your eyes., "How about another baby then? Help to even us out."

Well, almost everything...

—————

8,818 Words

Enjoy my beautiful whores? 👀

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chouxsardine · 4 months

Text

Warm Honey---Jake Kiszka x reader

A short blurb where me imagining getting high with Jake and listening to classical music ended up turning into some jake-playing-guitar worship and stream of consciousness smut. I just feel it's so sexy when your partner can feel the effect they have on you, and I'd like to think Jake loves that. 18+ content below cut. Enjoy!

Warning: 18+! Minors DNI, Drug use (marijuana), sexual content, body worship (kind of)

🎧: Scriabin Sonata No.4 in F sharp major, Op.30

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

He is all that you can think of, all that you feel.

Whenever you smoke joint with Jake, you always like to describe your mind as being “in a stake of Jake”. He is not occupying the space as the subject. Instead, he wraps around it in an all-encompassing way. He exists as the warmth of a blanket, a scene from the rear view mirror, the tingling on your skin as the wetness from an open-mouthed kiss evaporates.

Jake is sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, you are lying down with your head on his lap. The air is damp, saturated with the earthy smell. Jake just lets out a puff of smoke. You look up and blink. The light of the floor lamp is hazy through the smoke like the moon halo. Rachmaninoff is playing at a low volume in the background. The title of the melody escapes you. It could be Symphony No.2 or something like that. You are too far gone to put any effort into trying to recall it. Life feels really good at this moment, and that’s all you want to focus on.

Jake’s hand is resting in your hair, occasionally scratching your scalp or swirling the soft strands near your hairline around his finger, sending buzzing shivers under your skin. You squirm a bit, reaching above to grab his hand in yours. The sensation of being in touch with human flesh clashes with your stupefying illusion. Suddenly, Jake’s hands become the most interesting thing in the world.

If Jake is sober enough to look down, he will find you staring at his hand intensely with dilated pupils. The skin around your eyes is tinted with a fluffy shade of pink. And you are staring with the fervent passion of a child looking into a kaleidoscope for the first time, stunned and in awe. His hands are warm. Nails always blunt and well-trimmed, receded tamely behind the finger tips. Veins visible under his skin, knuckles strong and sturdy. You hold up his hand higher to the ceiling, looking at the light seeping through the slits between his fingers as if he has magical powers.

His hands truly are magical. The way he makes his guitar whine and moan on stage. You close your eyes briefly, recalling the way his right hand firmly grasping the neck while the palm of his left hand resting on its rear body. Sometimes he does that devious thing where he pushes the guitar back and forth as if shaking someone’s shoulder, the intensity of it cushioned by their connection through the strap, thereby creating a tensile and magnetic stretch between them. Once, you asked him why he would do that; “it helps with the trills and echoes,” he said, flashing you a smirk. You don’t believe him for one bit. When his fingers slide across the fretboard in an elegantly frantic speed, you wonder why there aren’t sparks bursting out because it surely looks like swiftly striking the head of a match against the side of the box. And you love the way he does tremolo, oh, the dazzling movement of his fingers on the higher end of the fretboard, his ring finger and pinky curved, alternating so smoothly that it looks like he is tickling someone. Well, it surely tickles your heart. And your pussy, if you are being honest. That’s when you feel it. The wetness sneaks up on you slowly. Jake always turns you on at the flip of a switch, the blink of an eye. Normally, you are already soaked as your mind is preoccupied with the yearning for his mouth, his fingers, and his cock. However, the weed amplifies all senses. This time, you can almost feel the titillation trickling down your spine, like morning dew collected on rose petals.

Without much thought (not that you can form any coherent ones now anyway), you hold up his fingers, make them spider-walk across your belly before lowering them down into your panties.

Jake lets out an amusing humph. With all the sensory stimulation stealing his words, he’s not much of a talker when he’s high. Your communication during times like these are almost telepathic—you could tell from just a simple raise of his fingers that he wants another handful of chips, and he could tell just by the slightest turn of your head that you want another hit. He always jokes that you read each other between the lines. The reassuring silence weaves a velvet blanket that falls and lands on both of you in a floating manner.

You look up and find him looking down on you with a lopsided smile. So lackadaisical that it’s almost goofy but smug nonetheless. He quirks his eyebrows, and you put up a finger against your lips.

“Shh.”

You’ve always known that Jake loves to watch. He gets so hard just by watching you getting yourself off, using all of his willpower not to come in his pants while somehow managed to take mental notes of your preference. He always looks down the moment your bodies connect, whether that’s him entering you or you sinking down on him. His mind is always blown by the way he disappears into you bit by bit and your malleability to adjust him. It’s almost like you were made for each other. The combination of the visual image and the physical sensation short-circuits his brain. The sigh and moans that escape him drive you crazy. Jake loves the process as much as he enjoys the maddening pleasure. And this time, with the weed delaying the need to fuck each other, you would like to let him experience that.

At first, it’s just his dry and warm palm covering your lower belly, his finger slotted between your fold, with his finger pad resting against your hood and finger tip grazing your clit. You feel he move, instinctively wanting to rub it.

“Nuh uh,” you tightens your grip, “I want you to feel it, babe.”

You are certain you are getting there. You can almost picture it, like honey slowly descending down the wall of a glass tube. It’s an agonizingly slow process, like a golden snake with malicious intent, twisting and turning its body; its expected sweetness drawing out the moisture of the mouth, causing one to salivate.

Ah. Here it comes.

Without meeting his gaze, you know that Jake feels it too. His fingers have long familiarized themselves as the hierarch of the territory which is your pussy. He has learned, through time and experience, the prelude of your arousal. Every respond is picked up by the tactile receptors on his finger pad and his muscle memory. Much like with his guitars, Jake is always caught in an affectionate paradox when it comes to your pussy—he walks this ground with confidence and pride over the possessiveness he has over it, albeit constantly carrying a veneration for its beauty and the sincere humbleness to learn and explore.

The previous friction has now transformed into a gentle rise of temperature and the coated slickness provided by your discharge. Your clit presses more firmly against his finger tips now that it starts to swell and throb.

“Damn, love, can almost feel your heartbeat.” Jake grunts, his words a bit slurred.

“That’s the point,” you arch your back, feeling vainglorious about your little trick, “my tell-tale heart. Feel what you do to me by simply existing?”

“Gosh, you’re gonna end me one day,” Jake tilts his head backwards, his eyes rolling back too, “but I wouldn’t want it any other way. And the epitaph would say, ‘gone doing what he loves’.”

You laugh, knowing that the filter between his brain and mouth has melted away now. Meanwhile, you are getting silkier and warmer by the second. Jake feels like he dips his finger into a jar of honey, the snugness of your walls trapped him there. He’s an insect preserved in a sea of saccharin, captivated by the moment as the waves wash over him again and again, reminding him that he is the reason why his girl is so turned on, he is the reason why this body lying against him coordinates all its nerves and cells to produce such an amazing response to his touch.

You can hear the clarinet playing in the symphony. If your memory serves you right, it won’t be long until the allegro vivace of the last movement kicks in. You look up at Jake’s face again. He swallows, his Adam’s Apple trembles in a way that makes you want to take a bite. With his eyes closed, his eyebrows pulling together, and his lips pursed, that man looks like he could be having an orgasm right there. It’s almost whimsical, given that he is the one who has his hand in your pants. You let out a low chuckle.

“What?” He cracks open an eye.

“You know they said weed slows people’s movement?” You quip, tapping your fingers provocatively over his, a sultry tone in your voice.

“Oh,” Jake’s eyes darkens, the familiar devious smile shine through his relaxed features.

“Now, those are fighting words, doll. You wanna test them out?”

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

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfiction #jake kiskza x reader #jakedown

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mamaspeckles · 4 months

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Hey my lovely! So there was some difficulties when working with the fic so here is a fixed version! Mama apologizes!

Velvet x Fem Reader SFW And NSFW Headcanons

CHARACTER IS 18+

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

SFW

-She was undoubtedly the first to develop feelings for you. Despite being a mega star alongside her brother, you weren't initially fazed by all her glitz and glam. At first, you were in denial that a famous pop star with numerous hit sensations would be interested in someone of a lower level like you. "I like you, Y/N! I've always had!" "I know... I knew from the beginning, but why?"

-Being her loving girlfriend doesn't guarantee she'll be all soft with you. She's had a bad attitude since childhood. If she dislikes something you do, expect a glare or a warning grip on your shoulder if you're beside her.

-You and her keep your relationship subtle and private, mainly because her fans crush on her and find her attractive. She believes it's not just her music that draws them in, but also her seductive and attractive aura. Only close family knows about the two of you, and it will remain that way until she finds the perfect time to reveal your relationship to the world.

-She throws her credit card on your lap if she sees you eyeing things you want, but she subtly judges your taste in fashion, mainly because you don't wear gold like her. "Oh, you want that? Okay, put it on my card, babe."

-Velvet's only pet names for you are "babe" and "hon"; she doesn't go overboard on nicknames. However, if you manage to make her truly mad, she'll refer to you as "bro."

-Velvet definitely bought those tap and buzz couple bracelets just to bug you, and she freaks out if you aren't wearing them. One time, you were asleep at 4 in the morning, and she full-blown spams the bracelet, waking you up.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

NSFW

-velvet is a very bold girl and isn’t afraid to say straight forward things to you “Shut up and take your pants off …I want to watch you touch yourself for me.”

-Sex doesn’t affect velvet. The only problem she has is the fact that her body will be covered in sweat when she’s done- She likes showering after. If you want to join her she doesn’t mind- if you are looking forward to her giving you after she won’t do anything to help you unless you tell her what you want.

-During sex, romance isn’t the biggest part of it for her. She mostly likes it to be strictly pleasure-based. She already shows you love in wholesome manner why show it with sex?.

-Velvet LOVESSSS seeing you beg. Anything that sets a power dynamic in general. Get on your knees for her and she’ll be ready whenever you are.

-She doesn’t make too much noise. Maybe a gasp and an mini groan every once in awhile. Vocals aren’t her pride. She doesn’t see the reason to force out noises for somebody else’s mental pleasure. - she does love hearing you cry in pain though..

-She owns toys…a lot of toys. Mostly for sex with you. She strictly uses them on you if you want to.

-she has dirty thoughts of fucking you senseless with a strap on but she doesn’t act on it.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

MY HANDS HURT UGH😭I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS (please like it)

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kastlequill · 5 months

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iii/v. unearth without a name: the parent forced to eat its young before it grows

pairing: keegan p russ x f!reader word count: 3.2k synopsis: the third time you hallucinate keegan tags: whumptober, psychological warfare, injury, electrocution, brainwashing, hallucinations, hurt no comfort, established relationship, ghost!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: canon-typical violence, torture ao3: read here ← prev | next →

III.

Things didn’t get much better from there. In fact, the torture only worsened.

The passage of time remained a disorienting illusion at best, but you were certain that you’d been in this hellhole longer than the less-than-professional portion of your relationship with. . .

With Keegan.

It hurt to think about him. Well, it hurt to think about any of the Ghosts, men who you had seen as your crew, your family, but matters surrounding the sergeant in particular were infinitely more painful. They had each promised you one thing and one thing only: short of death, they would sooner lose a limb or two than abandon you. He, however, had gone a step further, all but vowing to follow you to the ends of the earth.

Of course, Keegan hadn’t exactly said as much, for such a confessional manner of speaking was beyond his realm of expertise. Still, it was difficult to dispute the torch he carried for you when one took into account the way he slipped his treasured rations of dried jerky into your back pocket, or how he gave you his undivided attention both in the field and in the privacy of his own quarters.

Anybody with a pair of workin’ eyes can puzzle you idiots out in five seconds flat , Merrick had said once. Makes the rest of us sick. Sick, I tell you.

Unfortunately, reality was often disappointing. And you were starting to believe that the only person who’d ever been wholly honest about their intentions with you was Rorke.

The day you first had this passing thought was the day you officially relinquished your already-slippery grip on sanity, mind finally at a loss. Because nobody of a sound mental state would consider their captor, interrogator, and torturer to be a pillar of truth or a beacon of honesty. Nevertheless, he wasn’t the one who had given you false hope, nor had he been the one to abandon you here, leaving you to waste away and rot. From the get-go, this monster of a man had detailed the exact terrors he would inflict upon you and then subsequently followed through on his words.

A part of you—the worn-down, bone-weary, hollowed-out part of you—respected that.

“Why don't we start the day off with a bang, hm?” Rorke strapped your wrists down to the arms of the wooden chair in which you currently sat. Giving a sharp tug, he tightened the restraints until a tingling numbness radiated throughout the meat of your fingers. “Get the blood flowin’, so to speak.”

In your peripheral, two Feds were hooking you up to some sort of death machine, which looked like an entanglement of wires and an array of dials. Malnourishment slowed your ability to assess and process new information, so you couldn’t muster the energy to investigate whatever damage they had planned for you.

Resistance was futile; at this point, the pain was inevitable, and the suffering was unavoidable. You possessed no power, you had no leverage, and you were losing faith in your comrades fast. Combined, it was a sure recipe for disaster. Yet, you had no choice but to see all this chaos through until it’s likely-bloody conclusion.

Rorke took a seat in a chair of his own, positioning himself just a few feet across from you. Close enough to intimidate, but not within kicking distance. To calm your racing heart, you focused your attention onto the deep scar that sliced his left brow and trailed the contours of his face before abruptly stopping at the edge of his jaw.

Your sense of curiosity briefly flickered to life, and you wondered if it was the handiwork of another Ghost. Maybe Merrick, your methodical, war-horse of a captain? Or the Elias Walker, known to you only in the form of tales told by his remaining men?

Regardless, the image of the healed wound birthed in you a furious desire to bestow a matching mark on the unblemished side.

“First order of business,” the ex-Ghost began. “The Walker boy. Logan. Is he back in it again, runnin’ amok with that sorry brother of his? Haven’t seen either of their ugly mugs in a while.”

During the previous winter, you’d learned some of the details surrounding Logan’s capture and escape, both of which had occurred prior to your recruitment. Keegan had always been pretty tight-lipped about the subject, usually dismissing it altogether by redirecting you to ask Logan personally. And so you had.

What he divulged had sickened you to the core.

Although he wasn’t a big talker, Logan Walker had unveiled the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth in a series of short fragments over the course of several weeks. His recounts weren’t always delivered in chronological order, for he occasionally jumped around as trauma poured out of him like an unleashed dam. He had spoken of the isolation and the disorientation, of the physical beatings and the mental lashings. Of reliving his father’s death again and again, of the apparition of his brother shouldering him with the blame.

The most harrowing part, however, had been the brainwashing. The manipulation of the mind and its contents, the rearrangement of orderly thoughts, beliefs, memories into a locked state of disorder. Forcing the self to become a foreign object in its own native vessel. You had thus far managed to avoid undergoing such disfiguration. Still, considering Logan’s experience mirrored yours almost exactly, it was safe to assume that you wouldn’t remain unscathed. But where his strength and sheer tenacity had foiled Rorke’s plans, you weren’t optimistic that you’d be able to replicate his success.

Even so, no matter the evils lurking in your future, you scorned the prospect of willingly revealing any information that could be used to harm your teammates. Especially Logan. Dying would be less of a burden on your soul than condemning him to this hellscape for a second time. He’d already endured it once; to curse him twice would be beyond cruel.

Perhaps you were a tad bit self-sacrificing. You ignored the bitter, unwelcome voice from within that questioned whether the Ghosts would do the same for you if the roles were reversed.

Finally ready to reply, your head jerked to the left, then to the right. No.

A harsh exhale escaped his nostrils, like Rorke had expected the small defiance but was nonetheless disappointed. He snapped his fingers.

“Wrong answer.”

To punctuate the detached statement, a sudden current of what could only be described as concentrated lightning flowed into you. Your nerves caught fire, and every single muscle housed inside of you responded by contracting painfully. The sensation caused your joints to lock, stunning you into submission.

You felt your eyes roll back, but you willed them to refocus, threats all around. It was the sole method of motion still under your conscious control, for the rest of your body was seemingly trapped in an electric prison. However, when you glanced up at Rorke, a blurry figure to his left stole your attention instead.

Brows furrowing, you blinked rapidly to wash away the hazy features you had grown to love, but the mirage of Keegan remained. You would’ve noticed the sharp sting of an injection, so, unlike the previous two instances, this particular hallucination hadn’t been induced by drugs. It was a break in the pattern.

I’m going insane. Great.

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you. We’ve got ways of verifying, y’see, so cut the shit.” A nasty, blood-curling grin spread across Rorke’s lips. His soulless vessel swelled with delight as he unleashed another cruel stream of words. “Those sons of bitches can’t be worth all this. You’re nothing to them. Nothing. They didn’t think twice ‘bout sendin’ you off to die an undignified death, alone, and yet you wanna protect them?”

He shook his head and clicked his tongue, the expression on his face morphing into a strange mix of disgust and pity. “What a damn waste.”

Another snap, another electric shock. Those two Federation technicians must have increased the number of amperes or the voltage, for this wave trumped the previous in its overwhelming intensity.

God, you weren’t built for this. Sure, all the Ghosts had to undergo conditioning and interrogation training. But Merrick, Keegan, Hesh, and Logan had been navigating war and its unforgiving brutality for almost their entire lives. In contrast, you’d been a plain and ordinary civilian up until the moment Keegan dragged you out from beneath a pile of rubble not even three years ago.

For your dauntless comrades, who had confronted and conquered Death many times over, a little electrocution was indeed light work. For you, however, it wasn’t so.

Perhaps an additional year of experience would’ve solidified this weakness into something ironclad. Keegan had been giving you private lessons after sunset in an attempt to speed the learning process along, but your capture had indefinitely suspended such sessions. Thus, here you would remain, unrefined and incomplete.

At present, clouding your vision with the view of your torturer was more preferable than seeing the resigned disappointment on your lover’s war-painted face.

“Y’know,” Rorke mused, “the Federation could use a soldier like you. Someone with your kind of loyalty.”

You temporarily forgot your vow of silence and gave a derisive snort. The loyalty you had for the Ghosts hadn’t been acquired through material means; no amount of promised money or power in the world had a chance of swaying you. Bonds born of bruises and blood were damn near impenetrable and immortal.

That level of devotion couldn’t be fabricated or repurposed.

“Now, now, there’s no need to look so sour.” He bared his teeth, donning a devilish smile. “We’ll have you singin’ a different tune soon enough.”

This is it, you thought. This is where things get ugly.

As if the steaming pile of shit that Rorke had already dumped on you wasn’t bad enough. Still, objectively speaking, the brainwashing Logan had described would be leagues worse than even the most brutal torture you’d withstood yet. Because it wouldn’t just entail physical duress; your mental faculties would be taken hostage and subjected to radical change.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” he challenged, cocking a single brow. “Choice is yours. I’m partial to the hard way, myself.”

No answer left your lips, which was in and of itself an answer. One that elicited a sigh from Rorke and an eyebrow raise from Keegan.

“Hard way it is, then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You steeled yourself for a third wave of electrocution, but nothing could mitigate the calamity brought on by the hot coils that cascaded down your spine and traveled outward to your limbs and digits. It lasted for several seconds, minutes, hours. An eternity.

To what limits did Rorke intend to push your mind and body? A muddled sanity and crippled form would be of no use to him, surely. So what did he hope to gain?

Probably nothing special. Some people just want to watch the world burn, Keegan had told you at the beginning of your acquaintance, not long after explosives had free-fallen from the sky.

And Rorke fell squarely into that category.

“How d’you think this ends? In walks a Ghost or two, and then off into the sunset you go, happily ever after?” He sneered. “Like hell.”

The wave of his hand brought on another current of heat lightning, setting your skin aflame. You clenched every possible muscle in your jaw as he ducked down to meet your unfocused stare. Upon making contact, your fatigued eyes fluttered shut to replace the image of him with total darkness.

A fruitless endeavor, really. The hatred carried by his gaze and the imposing outline of his figure were both irreparably ingrained into the very grooves and folds of your brain.

But despite how he haunted your sleep and consumed much of your waking thoughts, Rorke had miraculously failed to eradicate your willpower in its entirety. Still, he had failed to isolate and exploit your Achilles’ heel; still, he was ignorant to the fact that the root of your motivations surpassed standard camaraderie. It would thus take more effort on his part than electric torture to excavate said root.

You were not yet at your breaking point. And you refused to allow today to be the day you finally cracked underneath his reign of terror.

For a moment, the pit was silent. Then came the dreadful murmur of his long-awaited epiphany.

“Ah, I see what this is,” Rorke said, tone giddy and ominous. “Tell me, who’s the lucky guy? Which one’s got you actin’ all stupid?”

Your heart stopped.

Fuck.

“Can’t be the quiet Walker, he doesn’t seem the romantic type. And it can’t be his mouthy brother either, too busy tryin’ to avenge the death of his old man. Merrick, well, the fella don’t really swing that way, if y’catch my drift. So, by my count, that just leaves. . .”

Heedless of your wishes, your lidded stare flicked to Keegan’s impassive face. Rorke hadn’t the faintest clue about the subject of your hallucinations or even about the fact that you were currently hallucinating. Nevertheless, the break in eye contact was sufficient evidence to betray you.

His gaze narrowed. “Bingo.”

You forced yourself to refocus on the non-imaginary man across from you, but the damage had been done.

“Keegan P. Russ, you sly sonuva bitch,” he muttered. Rorke pursed his lips and whistled in approval. “How’d he win you over? Did he call you pretty, say you’re special? Was he your knight in shining armor?”

In truth, Keegan hadn’t even needed to lift a finger to successfully woo you. Caring for him was as easy as breathing, and it had come so naturally to you that, without him, you felt a bit like a fish out of water. You couldn’t attribute this evolution of your relationship to a singular, specific instance; rather, an aggregation of stolen moments and intimate gestures had resulted in a mutual desire for more. But, to prevent whatever was mounting between yourselves from jeopardizing the team dynamic, the two of you had agreed to take things slow.

Maybe too slow, in retrospect. This hush-hush, test-run of a relationship had lasted a mere couple months, terminated prematurely by the man who was currently trying to fry your brain. Now your time was up, and much of Keegan would remain a mystery to you, forever undiscovered and unsolved. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret any of it.

You couldn’t bring yourself to regret him.

“Oh, this just keeps gettin’ better and better. I’m gonna have a whole lot of fun with you,” Rorke drawled, cracking his knuckles. A wave of apprehension washed over you, and he grinned at the horror that was surely etched into your face. “Don’t worry, I won’t kill our dear ol’ Russ.”

Relief surged within you, rejuvenating some of our deadened spirit, but the feeling didn’t last long. Nothing remotely good ever did down here.

“You will.”

Two little words, two little syllables shattered the illusion of Keegan, and with him went any remaining actionable hope. Try as you might, you were unable to reconjure his presence, incapable of reconstructing the facial features you had once loved to trace as he slept. Already, the pain had begun to distort his image in your mind’s eye, like how a digital photo album might be corrupted by malware.

Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps you should compartmentalize your memories of him, of the Ghosts, and of the resistance into tiny boxes, sealing them shut then storing them far, far away. Not just out of Rorke’s reach, but out of yours too.

Because, ultimately, time was on the side of your enemies. Your body would erode first, followed by your sanity and ending with your soul; such was inevitable. Recognizing you were powerless to circumvent this fate, you instead sought to curate the information that would be revealed to Rorke once he finally penetrated your mental bastion. If you purged anything to do with the Ghosts from your memory bank, then the knowledge you possessed couldn’t be weaponized against them.

The only way you could counteract Rorke’s plans was by forgetting the life you’d built alongside Keegan and the others. Even as you now sat tied up and riddled with convulsions, you were thinking about the four soldiers who had become your home, about how to protect them. Any strategizing you did was to discern a method of silent survival for their sake, not yours. Never yours.

You tried to stave off the bitterness that crept deeper into your heart.

“Conserve your energy. You’ll be needin’ it for what I’ve got planned,” the older man advised, though his sinister chuckle contradicted any notion of good faith. The metal legs of his chair scraped against the ground as he pushed himself backwards and stood to his full height. “And it should go without saying—”

Rorke let the sentence break off and linger in the tense atmosphere. During these sessions, you’d learned that the older man had somewhat of a proclivity for theatrics. The ex-Ghost derived sick pleasure from randomly dropping bombs of intel on you to instigate a reaction, or from watching you struggle to persist in spite of the various mental and physical agonies he had inflicted.

A true sadist.

“None of those sorry bastards are gonna barge in and save the day, so give that dream up already. You won’t be found. I mean, how’re they s'posed to find what they ain’t even lookin’ for?”

The sound of retreating footsteps meant Rorke had finally taken his leave, marking the conclusion of this interrogation. But, as the two remaining Feds prepared to conduct another bolt of electricity through your depreciating body, you knew that the prescribed torture had only just begun.

You hung your head and stared unblinkingly at your bound wrists, at your traumatized fingers, still twitching from the aftershocks. Tremors born of fear, pain, rage. Rage at Rorke, at yourself.

At Keegan.

In a kinder world, perhaps Keegan would’ve been around to hold your hands in his, to soothe your scorched flesh with a gentle, mindless rub of his thumb. A fierce longing for him gripped your heart, yearning for that Keegan who could glean your emotional state at any given moment as informed by the mere hitch in your breath or the rhythm of your pulse.

That Keegan, who let you crawl into his arms and steal his warmth on harsh winter nights, no questions asked. That Keegan, who caught the glazed-over look in your eyes whenever certain topics arose in conversation and thus tried to distract you by playing a game of I Spy, your favorite childhood pastime. That Keegan, who had once nearly broken a man’s wrist for daring to grab the collar of your shirt; he’d been the perfect picture of Death-incarnate, a fierce protector with his stone-cold warning and intimidating stare.

This Keegan, however, was all too different.

Because this Keegan did not come to your rescue. No, instead, he had left you here to die.

tbc.

#keegan p russ #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ #keegan russ x reader #cod ghosts #cod x reader #cod keegan #call of duty #whumptober #fic: unearth without a name #my fic

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maxislvt · 1 year

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The Perfect Pair

Summary: What happened before Christmas was an accident. It should've been a one off thing that neither you or Wanda would mention again. However, Wanda isn't satisfied with just letting you slip through the cracks and though you'd never admit it, you didn't want to slip through them either.

Warnings: smut, omegaverse, alpha!reader, omega!Wanda, nontraditional omegaverse dynamics, anal play, pegging, anal fingerings, butt plugs, jealousy, rough sex, teasing, claiming, very brief and non serious injury towards the end, aftercare

Author's Note: I swear I was writing the professor Wanda fic but this literally consumed my every waking thought FOR WEEKS!! This is technically a part 2 of Let It Snow but this can be read on its own!!

"I understand you may be worried about some of the repercussions of our… escapade before Christmas and I assure you they are small. As you know, how I acquired my powers has rendered me barren. I won't stop being friends with you because of this but I cannot let something like that happen again. It would be detrimental to the team to continue such a relationship based on our urges."

You were so serious, Wanda almost believed you. With your back so straight and your voice so stern, Wanda should've been convinced you wanted nothing to do with her. Like always, she could see right through you. The smaller details always told her what you were truly feeling. Your heels dug into the carpet of her room, you fiddled with the leather strap on your jacket, and the way you simply refused to make proper eye contact with her. You were nervous, unsure of the words coming out of your mouth. It was adorable. Wanda could only imagine you hunched over a desk constantly rewriting your speech in that little notebook you kept on you.

"Who said it wasn't only based on urges, hm?" One question was all she needed to break your facade. Suddenly, you were right back to that bashful alpha she had trapped underneath only weeks earlier. Wanda stepped into your personal space. Her hands spread out over the muscular surface that was your chest. "You can sense me watching you, can't you?" Wanda ran her fingers down your arm, following the curve of your muscles. "I know about that adorable little sketchbook you bring on missions and the stickers you use to color code your files." Her hands slid back up your arm, groping and squeezing the unmoving muscles. "I know you're the mysterious little chef that leaves cookies out for the team on Sundays."

She began to circle you. You were nothing more than prey for her to pounce on at any second. "I can see inside that little head of yours," Wanda whispered in your ear. You were practically shaking underneath her touch. She could hear your brain frantically searching for some excuse or explanation. Wanda had heard your filthy thoughts. Of course, she had. She wrapped her arms around your waist from behind. "You're tired of being in charge, aren't you? You just wanna let go and let someone else do the work. Isn't that right?" A smirk spread across her face. She had you. Stuck in a limbo of accepting the truth in her words and about to lose yourself in the pleasure she was giving you.

You were doomed. Your dick twitched and throbbed in Wanda's hands as she groped you. It pained you to admit it, but she was right. Being underneath Wanda was the freest you had ever felt. No reports, no stupid tests to be run, and none of society's standards telling you to be ashamed of what you wanted. Wanda's touch felt heavenly. Soft and freshly manicured nails rubbed up and down your crotch until you were completely hard. Part of you just wanted her to make the leap and take you then and there. "Uh i-it's, it's more complicated than that," You strained out. The slow, methodic strokes were almost enough to get you begging for more. Almost wasn't enough. Just as a shudder ran up your spine, you grabbed Wanda's wrist and pulled it off of you. You turned to face her. "I don't get to just drop anything and play whatever sick game you're dragging me into." Stepping away was the hardest thing you've ever done. "Maybe we can be friends, but I can't let this happen."

Wanda raised her eyebrows in disappointment. You could never lie to her. She knew too much. Wanda simply smiled and cupped your face. "Well, I'll believe it when you can look me in the eyes and say it." In one swift motion, she leaned forward and kissed you. Once again, you were helpless and completely pliable from simple touches. All it took for you to relax was a few seconds of a kiss. You wanted her, Wanda knew that, but you'd never have her if you denied yourself so often. Her hands wrapped around your waist. The fabric of your suit was harsh against her skin. "Let's get this off and see how much you don't want me, hm?"

With your mind clouded by lust, you almost let Wanda have her way with you. "Wanda, I- I'm serious! If this gets out of hand, there's no telling what'll happen to the team!" A defiant huff came from your chest as you stepped away. Your face was flushed red and your body felt hot. It wasn't fair. How come you couldn't fluster Wanda the way she flustered you? You were an alpha. Alphas weren't supposed to be mushy and dependent. They were supposed to be hard workers and leaders. "I'm serious, I'm not letting this go on any longer! Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend and I will not let you be the reason I'm late!" Shouting felt unnatural to you, but you were frustrated. Without another word, you used your powers to disappear into the shadows and leave Wanda's room.

Wanda merely groaned and shook her head. She'd make you confess one way or the other.

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

Despite the confidence you had to walk out, you were beginning to regret it. Stress was starting to get you. Having sex with Wanda was the first time in almost a year you hadn't suppressed your heat and your body was missing her. You were starting to worry that maybe your heart was too. If you weren't careful, every thought you had would suddenly become about Wanda. It was particularly embarrassing when she'd enter your mind when you needed comfort.

Like when you were trapped in a pressure chamber and had to force yourself to become whole again. No matter how many times you found yourself in that position, you could never get used to the pain. A necessary evil you told yourself. At least Bruce would always be there for moral support. However, after a two-week-long period of using your powers almost non-stop, you were subjected to the worst session of it yet. You practically collapsed the second you stepped off the Quinjet and it felt as if your condition only worsened from there. It was a cruel process. Several minutes of what would've been bone-crushing pressure to anyone else, then you'd get a minute of nausea, and then you'd have to do it all over again.

All you could do was curl into a ball and scream.

The other Avengers occasionally stopped by during the process to offer you encouraging words or bring food when you'd be let out for a real break. After nearly two hours of medical torture, you had almost given up on it. Then, Wanda came in.

She almost immediately regretted it. Never had Wanda seen you so weak. Strained tears rolled down your face as you clawed at the floor beneath you. It was awful to look at. "What's up with them," Wanda asked casually, hoping she'd seem disinterested.

"Rethreading. Y/N uses their powers too long and their atoms forget how to arrange themselves back to the way they were before. The only way to get them back in order is to brute force it." Bruce turned off the pressure, allowing you to rest. "It isn't pretty, but it's the only thing that works." He looked up from the monitor in front of him and came face first with a very confused Wanda. "Okay. They're a human, which is solid, but their powers turn them into this weird shadowy gas thing we can't put a name to just yet. It's cool, but if they do it too long their atoms forget how to become solid again. Pressure forces them back into one piece.

Wanda nodded along, only understanding part of the explanation. "Have you tried magic? What if I just…force them to go back together, gently."

Bruce hummed and scratched the back of his neck. "It's not exactly my field of work, but if you think it'll work…go ahead." He pressed a button on the panel in front of him. "We're sending Wanda in…don't give me that look. It's worth a shot and probably less painful." A wave of his hand signaled for Wanda to enter the chamber. "Pressure's off, go ahead."

Wanda honestly had no clue what she was doing. It'd be a miracle if you even let her touch you, it'd be something else entirely if she could help you feel better. "Let's just make this easier for the both of us, alright?"The door to the chamber closed behind her and she took a deep breath. Though you didn't say anything, she took you laying down as a sign of submission. She kneeled beside you and firmly placed her hand on your chest. "Just…breathe."

You begrudgingly followed Wanda's instructions. One deep breath as the magical red mist surrounded your body. You weren't entirely sure what you were experiencing, but it felt good. After hours of fruitless torture, your body seemed to finally listen. Wanda's magic had tamed the unruly science that ruined you and made you whole again. Everything was peaceful. No nausea or pressure, just calmness.

"I…it worked. It worked!" A relieved laugh bubbled through your body. "Oh god, Wanda you don't know what this means to me! Thank you, thank you!" Without even thinking, you pulled Wanda into a hug. A real hug. Not those awkward side hugs you gave to politicians during banquets. A full hug filled with gratitude and adoration. Genuine enough to make you forget your self-imposed rule of distance. Only for a moment though. After nearly a full thirty seconds of hugging, you forced yourself to let go and cleared your throat. "Your assistance is greatly appreciated and I will never forget how you've helped me today," You said with a flat voice devoid of the excitement you had just seconds early. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have mission debriefings to finish up and submit." You gave Wanda a firm handshake before standing up and leaving the chamber.

Wanda just barely fought off the urge to roll her eyes, but she let you leave without saying anything else to you. She stood and shrugged at Bruce. "I'm not exactly sure what I did, but I'll do it again if it must be done." Part of her was disappointed she let you slip through her fingers once again, but embarrassing you in front of your friends certainly wasn't the way to catch. Maybe now, you'd come to her.

You had come running to her sooner than she expected. Mere hours after dinner, you stood in front of her doorway. You looked so meek. A noticeable red blush on your cheeks and ears as you waited to be let in. The only way you'd look any cuter was if she put a collar on you. "Is there a problem?" A simple question, but one that gets you worked up for no reason.

A deep breath came out of your lungs but did nothing to calm you. "I would like to apologize to you. For this evening and what happened last week, I think." Wanda stepped to the side to let you in her room. You were hesitant to accept her offer. Wanda was unpredictable and you weren't sure you had the willpower to deny her much longer. Just being alone in her room puts you on edge, mostly because you didn't fit in. A spot of inky blackness in a sea of bright reds and pink. You chose to sit on the loveseat and subconsciously held onto the tiny stuffed bunny that was in your spot. "I realize you were just trying to help me with my problems and I appreciate that. I shouldn't have been rude to you after that, you're a good person." You squeeze the bunny in your lap before talking again. "...but I can't let us be anything more than friends. I'm an alpha. I shouldn't bend to your whim and you shouldn't want an alpha that does."

Wanda watched as you nervously toyed with the stuffed animal in your lap. It was adorable. Watching you try to be something you weren't was so amusing. "Says who? Who says I can't want a nice, soft, adorable little alpha like you?" She laughed as you squirmed in your seat. "I don't care for some meathead alpha that puffs out their chest over every little thing. I much prefer one that'll win me over with chocolate chip cookies and brownies instead." Slowly, she walked over to you and didn't stop until she towered over you while you sat down. Her gentle hands cupped your face and tilted your head back so you were forced to make eye contact. "I'm going to court you and I would appreciate it if you came to your senses and accepted it."

You swallowed a lump in your throat. The eye contact you held with Wanda was intense. You were too scared to look away. Not that you could. Wanda had you frozen in place. "I- You can't just…" The words you wanted to say were right on the tip of your tongue. Wanda couldn't force you to accept her offer. It didn't matter how much of a pushover she thought you were. I have every right to say no. Alphas didn't need to be coddled and talked down to. I can handle myself. All powerful and true statements that just won't leave your mouth no matter how hard you try. It didn't help that Wanda just smiled down at you every time you tried speaking. Purposely trying to fluster you. A different kind of evil you could never dream of defeating. So instead of arguing, you merely disappeared again.

It didn't frustrate Wanda this time. She already had a plan.

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

It had been about three days since you had properly talked to Wanda. Disappearing at the slightest frustrations wasn't a good habit, but talking to Wanda was near impossible. She was always in your personal space, she always knew how you truly felt, and she was always so pretty. It wasn't fair. You could talk to her if she wasn't always touching you with her stupidly soft hands and covering everything in that stupidly comforting scent of hers.

Who knew the smell of strawberries and cinnamon would be so dreadful?

You couldn't escape it. Even with a gym full of alphas, hers always managed to stand out. She'd always be in the kitchen with her brother or sitting right next to you during meals. You were lucky Wanda didn't attempt to start any conversation with you because you were sure you'd embarrass yourself. She hadn't shown any signs of courting you and you were convinced you had scared her off. You convinced yourself you didn't care if you had by enjoying the peace of training without Wanda gawking at you the entire time.

The peace was short-lived. Once you entered your room, you were greeted with a familiar spiciness that wasn't your scent. It was subtle. Maybe Wanda hadn't been in your room for long, but she had certainly been there. But what for? Your drawers hadn't been looked through and nothing had been touched. No matter how many times you looked over your room, everything was the same. Ultimately, you were too tired to keep searching and just flopped onto your bed from exhaustion.

Squeak.

You pressed down on your bed again.

Squeak, Squeak.

After several more squeaks, you pulled back your blanket and came face to face with the cutest plushie you’d ever seen. Jet black yarn crocheted into the shape of a bunny with the floppiest ears. The solid red eyes and X-shaped mouth were adorable accents. It even had both of its ears pierced like yours. You looked around your room a few times to make sure no one was around and gave the bunny an affectionate squeeze. Wanda had scented the bunny, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad about that. After a few more squeezes, you notice a note and a gift bag resting on your pillow. You put down the rabbit and picked up the note card. ‘Let's fuck like rabbits ♡!" Had been written on the card. Part of you wanted just to rip up the card and return the gift, but you knew she’d somehow turn it against you. A heavy pit of anxiety settled in your stomach as you pulled out the drawstring holding the bag together. “OH!” You nearly dropped the bag out of shock. A buttplug with a bunny tail attached to the end of it and lube. It felt less like courting and more like an assassination attempt.

"What, you don't like it?"

Wanda's silky smooth voice made you shudder. "I appreciate the stuffed animal, but this is inappropriate!" You refused to look Wanda in the eye. It would kill you to see the face she was making. That devastating mix of smugness and adoration. Like she was happy to see you flustered. It wasn't fair. "I won't accept it!" You threw the bag back in Wanda's direction. "Omegas don't court, they get courted! If you really want to give e it a try give me a chance to"

"If you sit down and stop talking I'll show you how to use it."

You sat down on your bed with your arms and legs crossed defensively. "This isn't me accepting it! I'm just.. curious." A shiver ran up your spine as you watched Wanda crawl onto your bed. The look in her eyes was hungry. It made you squirm. Just the feeling of her hand on your barely thigh made you throb. You were doomed. Wanda was going to fuck you in the ass and then you'd be too dumb to deny her ever again. So, you decided to make it difficult for her. When she leaned in to kiss you, you turned your head. "No mouth kissing, this isn't romantic." Where you expected Wanda to huff and push you to change your mind, she simply decided to attack your neck instead. "Ah! Mmm…" A shaky breath fell from your lips as you tried to act unphased by the feeling.

Wanda bit back a smirk. She was starting to realize you needed to be eased into things. Praised and coddled until you were truly comfortable with her and your desires. She guided you into laying back against the mountain of pillows and slowly uncrossed your legs. "Can I take your boxers off?" Her scent slowly began to fill your room. You were so tense. "I need you to relax. You'll hurt yourself if you don't." Every breath she took filled her nostrils with your scent. Milk chocolate and caramel. Sweet and gentle scents. Just like the skin of your thighs. Sugary sweet in her mouth and oh so fragile. It would take nothing to sink her teeth in and mark you as hers forever, but she chose to wait. Instead, she chose to pepper your thighs with kisses until the muscles fully relaxed. "That's it. Do you think you're ready?"

You're painfully hard and in need of release, but you don't want to embarrass yourself by cumming the very second Wanda touches you. It took a full minute of deep breathing to control the buzzing underneath your skin. "I'm ready," You said barely above a whisper. A gasp escaped your lips at the feeling of Wanda smearing the cold lube against your puckered hole. The stuffed rabbit and Wanda's soft praise were the only thing that brought you comfort. Once you stopped squirming, Wanda eased her middle finger inside of your hole. "Ah, ah! Slower, please go slower!"

Wanda stopped moving, her finger only halfway inside. "Okay, just breathe. Tell me when you want to go again." For a moment, she considered pulling out entirely but she didn't want to risk you tightening up again. "Can I touch your knot? It'll make it hurt less." The meek nod from you sent her heart into a fit. Her hand slowly wrapped around the length of your cock. The pace she set was just as slow as her finger. "Oh, there we go. That's a pretty sound, isn't it?" She dragged her tongue along the underside of your length.

Your lips quivered and you tighten your grip on the rabbit. "Thank you, thank you so much. That feels good," You said through a breathy moan. A fire spreads underneath your skin and you're hopeless to stop it. Wanda's fingers were so long. "F-fuck, can you just put that thing in me already?" Despite your pleas, you were only given a second one of Wanda's fingers. They could barely move inside of you, but she spread them apart regardless. You choked on a gasp. "What's that! What's that!"

Wanda kept rubbing against the patch of nerves inside of you again. "You don't know where your prostate is? How cute." She continued to rub and press against your prostate. Her tongue collected the drops of cum that leaked from your tip. "A little someone tells me you like it." Wanda took her sweet time milking you. She worked you up into taking three fingers before pulling out entirely. The sight of your gaping hole makes her feral. "I think you're ready." Wanda smeared lube over the plug and eased it inside of your hole. "There we go, nice a full."

The fullness was foreign, but enjoyable. Your breath was shaky and you were horribly overstimulated. "Can you…can you keep going? I just wanna cum please." A near pornographic moan escaped your lips as Wanda began stroking your cock again. The tip of thumb rubbed your slip and she jerked you off. Your cock practically throbbed in her grasp. Despite the brain melting pleasure, your eyes found themselves drawn to Wanda's lips. They curled into a gentle smile. Not the condescending ones she'd thrown your way when you'd turn into a stuttering mess, but a comforting one. They looked warm and inviting, like they were just begging for the chance to press up against yours. "Can you kiss me? Like a real kiss?"

The question threw Wanda off and she nearly lost her movement. She recovered quickly and dived in and molded her lips against yours. Your lips are chapped and raw from your constant biting of them, but she was strangely attached to it. Her tongue explored the warmth of your mouth. Dominating your mouth was just as easy. You were desperate for it. A shudder ran down her spine as you moaned into the kiss. It was near impossible for her to let go of your lips, even when she needed to breathe. She continued to jerk you off until you couldn't handle the stimulation. "Let me court you." It was more of a command than a question.

You could only whimper as your orgasm overcame you. For a moment, you couldn't even look at Wanda. Her tongue had taken up the job of cleaning the cum off of her hand and your stomach. It's obscene, but the two of you had certainly gone too far for you to be embarrassed about it. Your eyes didn't move from the blanket beneath you. "I…Fine, but can we keep us behind closed doors for a bit? I've never been courted before or y'know courted anyone before."

Wanda dragged her fingernails up and down the side of your thighs. "I'll take care of you." Her hands guided up towards your face. Words couldn't describe how excited she was to be able to kiss you. She peppered kisses all over your face. It was addictive. "Isn't that what you want? Someone taking care of you."

You nod slowly, under the daze of affection and lack of energy. "Okay, but this isn't happening right away." It's embarrassing to have given yourself up so easily, but Wanda made you feel good. It caused a stir in your stomach, but one that settled the very second Wanda snuggled up next to you.

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

You were intentionally apprehensive about being courted. It just didn't feel right. For every gift Wanda would give you, there was the urge to buy at least three more. You were thankful Wanda had gone from gift giving to actually taking you dates. The Amazon list you had racked up for her had grown large and your wallet would never forgive you for it.

"So, where are you taking me?" You had asked the question at least four times during the train ride and three more during the walk. It was a good thing Wanda had grown to love your curiosity, because anyone else would've threatened to tape your mouth closed. Honestly, you wouldn't have asked so much if Wanda hadn't been so vague and unplanned. You had just finished training in the gym before she mysteriously appeared with an outfit for you and told you to stop by her room. Now you weren't really sure where you were. "Also, did you really have to pick my clothes out for me? I'm capable of dressing myself!"

Wanda simply rolled her eyes, kissing your knuckles as she guided you into the building. "I spent 10 minutes looking for clothes that weren't just your suit and 10 more looking for something that didn't have your name on it." It never occurred to Wanda how small your wardrobe was until she had come face to face with it. Nothing but tech gear and workout clothes. "At least those sweatpants make your ass look nice," She said before giving your ass a firm squeeze when you walked in front of her.

You had grown used to Wanda's rather inappropriate forms of physical affection, but the compliments never failed to make you blush. "Ah, you promised to stop saying stuff like that out loud! What if someone hears?" A pout covered your features, but it didn't last very long. You were immediately curious about your surroundings. It was a kitchen, that much was obvious. Embarrassment settled over your features. You were a regular at this rentable kitchen. A rentable kitchen was the best way to do all your baking endeavors without leaving behind any evidence. No one should've known about this except for

…Bruce. Of course he told Wanda about that. The little sneak. "Who told you about this place?"

Wanda tried to suppress a giggle. "Oh um, no one. Just found it while searching for a place for us to go." She kissed your cheek and pushed you up the stairs to the floor she rented out specifically. The glance shared between you and the desk attended wasn't lost on her, but she kept her thoughts to herself. "I wanted to take you somewhere nice, but I figured you'd throw a fit if I took you out for dinner and tried to pay for you so I bought everything ahead of time so you can just sit there and look cute while I cook!"

You frowned. Wanda was right, you'd die before letting her plan something nice and let her cover the whole cost. "Okay, well what if I just cook everything to make up for it?"

"I was hoping you'd ask that," Wanda hummed excitedly. She clapped her hands and suddenly you were tied down to a chair right next to her. "I'll just have to keep you all tied up so I can cook." She affectionately tapped the tip of your nose before she started cooking. Her eyes rolled at your disapproving grumbles. "I'll let you bake cookies if you play nice," was all she needed to say to keep your behavior in check. "Why don't you tell me about yourself? What's going on in that adorable little head of yours?"

At first, you ignored Wanda's question and decided to watch her cook. You were hoping she'd make a mistake and you'd have an excuse to at least boss her around a bit. Unfortunately, no such mistake came and the silence was making you uneasy. "Oh um, why don't you just read my mind?" The glare Wanda gave you was deadly. You made a quick note not to suggest it ever again. For a moment you sat there tied and confused. Small talk was irritating but there was no other way to learn about each other. "I'm the only alpha in my family, well in my house at least. My aunt says it's why I'm so soft. It was just my mom and my two siblings growing up."

Wanda continued chopping up the ingredients as you talked. Life in Sokovia was tough, even with two parents and a twin brother. She couldn't imagine how hard it was for you. "What was that like?" She could hear you shuffling nervously. "I don't gain anything from running off and telling everyone your business. Just trust me."

You huffed out of frustration, but you knew she was right. Wanda had somehow mastered the balance between keeping your relationship a secret and not completely ignoring you in public. "It was…it was weird honestly. I was the youngest in my house but I always had to get into fights for my siblings. I wasn't big either, so you can imagine I got roughed up a lot." Opening up to people was rare for you, but it felt natural with Wanda. Even with her back turned to you and the knife coming down against the wooden board, you knew she was listening. "My mom hated it, but I couldn't just sit there and let people talk down on her."

It was a little sad, but the image of a younger version of you patched up with a heavy pout on your face was adorable. "I get it, Pietro had to do the same for me, sort of. He wasn't physically fighting because he was big but he was always pushing someone around for me." She scooped a bit of the soup she was making onto a spoon and turned towards you. The corners of her mouth turned upwards when you subconsciously leaned in and ate it. "All the younger kids thought I was weird and it was free reign once I presented."

You let Wanda wipe the corners of your mouth. The conversation continued like that. You'd share something about your life and Wanda would give you information about her in exchange. Some of the stories were sad. Others light hearted and hilarious. The conversations rarely lulled and you two only stopped talking when dinner was ready and Wanda needed to focus so she could plate the food. Even then, the silence while you two ate was comfortable."I really want this to go somewhere. You're the first person that didn't make me feel bad for being me."

Her hand inched up your thigh and gave it a firm squeeze. "Well, I like you a lot better when you're soft and baking cookies for me." Wanda's hand moved further up until she reached your belt. She could feel you squirming underneath her touch. You were adorable and every day you gave Wanda another reason to think that. "Alphas need to be taken care of too, let me be the one to take care of you. Okay?"

One look into Wanda's eyes and you were locked in a trance. Your face felt hot and your heart rate shot through the roof. It was so much harder playing tough and constantly denying yourself. "I…okay. I love you." The kiss Wanda stole from you was much softer than the other ones you got from her.

She didn't have to rush. Wanda's tongue carefully explored every inch of your mouth and was careful not to bite you too harshly. By the time she pulled away, your lips were swollen and your face had gone bright red. "You're mine now and I'm gonna make sure you remember that."

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

Wanda didn't mind having to be secretive at first. Though she couldn't stand your obsession with appearances and reputation, she knew you'd have to let them go slowly. You were already learning so fast. Days where you would argue about being a little spoon or refusing to wear the clothes Wanda picked out for you, were long gone. You were putty in her hands. No one else had the privilege of loving the real you. That didn't mean she was the only one that had the privilege of staring. Wanda expected people to stare. Even if the other alphas talked down on you, the omegas were always comfortable with you. You were nice and always respectful of them. Being pretty and mysterious only made them want you more.

So it was no surprise that when you were respectful, pretty, and mysterious in a suit, the omega were practically begging for your attention. You were much too kind to do anything but give it to them. Small compliments that meant nothing to you, but seemed to be the word to them.

Wanda could only watch from the bar while you were practically surrounded. The thought of claiming in front of everyone was heavy on her mind.

"Oh, green is not your color," A familiar voice said from behind her. "One white Russian please."

Wanda let out a frustrated groan. "I'm not jealous. I just don't like other people touching all over what's mine- They're not mine, they're their own person!" Natasha always managed to get Wanda to slip up and confess her most embarrassing feelings.

"What's yours? That's a new one for sure." Natasha chuckled before taking a sip of her drink. "Look, I've worked with Y/N for a long time. They're not a risk taker. If you want them, you're going to have to get them before someone else does." She nudged Wanda with her elbow and tilted her head towards your direction.

In just a few short minutes, most of the omegas surrounding you had disappeared and that left you corned by one. Some low level SHIELD agent she'd seem following you around a couple times. There had always been a few feet of distance between you, but now she was all over you. Her hand kept rubbing your bicep and she just seemed so interested in being right underneath you.

'My room, now.'

A shiver ran up your spine and you immediately began searching the room for Wanda. You found her staring directly at you with red eyes. Even from halfway across the room, you could tell she was at risk of breaking the glass in her hand. "Um, I have to go to the restroom. Don't wait up!" Before the agent could ask you any questions, you wiggled out from the hold she had on you and made your way out of the banquet hall. Wanda had never looked at you that way. Was she angry? If so, was it your fault? Even with your concerns, you found yourself sitting on the edge of her bed with your stuffed rabbit, now named Noir, in your arms.

Wanda sat down her cup and made her way up to her room. She wasn't mad at you, she couldn't be. It wasn't your fault you were so attractive. No one would touch you again if she claimed you. That's all she had to do. Mark up that pretty little neck of yours and make you hers forever.

"You look so handsome in your little suit," Wanda said affectionately as she began unknotting your tie. She always took her time undressing you. A gentle kiss placed on every inch of skin she uncovered. "You're my alpha, not theirs. They can't touch you." Once she fully unbuttoned your dress shirt and tossed it to the side, her hands immediately focused on the tent in your pants. "Oh, and that makes your adorable little cock mine too. Doesn't it?" The tips of her fingers teased your erection, but pulled away when your hips started to buck upwards. "Ah, I want to hear you say it."

You whined softly at the lack of contact. "Yours…my knot is yours and you can do whatever you want with it. I'm your alpha."A shaky moan fell from your lips when Wanda began touching you again. It was hard to figure out why Wanda was so upset when she was doing her very best to turn you into a thoughtless mess. "Did—ah! Did something happen?"

Wanda considered ignoring your question and just toying with you until her jealousy fizzled out, but she knew you'd keep asking until you were satisfied. "I don't want anyone else touching what's mine. Not you and especially not that omega that couldn't keep her hands to herself." She finally freed your cock from the confines of your pants and boxers and started jerking you off. Her strokes were slow and dominating. "I'm gonna have to claim you so everyone knows to stay away. Doesn't that sound good? I sink my teeth into your neck and everyone will know you're mine."

The thought of claiming Wanda hadn't crossed your mind before. Being marked by her just sounded right. You knew it was typical for alphas to claim their omega first, but you weren't the one taking control. Wanda took control. It was only fair she claimed you first. "Okay, that sounds good." Your words came out jumbled and rushed, but Wanda took pity on your flustered state. "Claim me." Her magic was quick to wrap around your legs and waist to keep them spread. Tying you up was necessary. You were antsy and Wanda wasn't strong enough to hold you down on her own. Regular rope was much too harsh on your skin and you'd phase through it anyway.

Wanda undressed and put on her harness while you squirmed helplessly on the bed. "Relax, it's the same one we used last time." She rubbed the tip of the toy against your hole and smiled. You weren't as tense as before, but you needed a bit more foreplay to help you relax. "Hold your little bunny while I use my fingers, okay? I won't hurt you." She carefully smeared the lube over your hole, then eased three of her fingers inside. "You're already taking me so well. I could just fuck you like this."

A heavy moan fell from your lips as you were stretched out. "Fuck, oh my god!" Wanda had conditioned you to be louder and so much more vulgar. You'd take from her with wild abandon. "Please fuck me, I can take it." Despite your pleas, your hips bucked up and followed Wanda's fingers as they pulled out of you. Wanda was quick to replace her fingers with the tip of her strap-on.

You and Wanda moaned in sync as she eased the fake cock deep inside of you. "God, fuck you're so tight." Enchanting the strap wasn't an easy feat, but she was forever thankful she managed to do it. Nothing would ever compare to the feeling of being buried inside you. "God, you're practically sucking me in. You're just a needy little hole, aren't you? Say it, tell me you're my needy little alpha." Her scent flooded the room as she began peppering open-mouth kisses along the side of your neck.

"I'm your needy alpha! Fuck, right there, please!" Your hips pushed forward in an attempt to meet Wanda's thrusts. A butt plug could never feel this good, none of the toys would. They couldn't bottom you out and fuck into you without care. None of them twitched and throbbed inside the way Wanda currently was. Your hand instinctively reached down to ease the pressure growing between your legs only for them to be immediately slapped away. "Fuck, sorry. Can you— Ah! Can you jerk me off, please?"

Wanda pulled out just long enough for her magic to turn you over onto your knees before thrusting all the way back inside of you. Her hand wrapped around your cock and began stroking downwards. "You know how much I love milking that pretty little cock. I think I'm gonna cum just thinking about it." With one hand on your hip and the other bust jerking you off, Wanda had complete control over you. She'd fucked you dumb and now all she had to do was mark you. "That's it, let your omega take care of you. I bet it feels so good." She sprinkled kisses up your back and to the nape of your neck. Without warning, she sank her teeth into your neck until she broke the skin. Her hips continued pounding into you in hopes of distracting you from the pain.

"Fuck, ow! That hurts, it hurts!" Wanda's magic wrapped around your entire body and kept pinned down to the bed. It hurt, but your body seemed to love it. Your organs rushed over your body unexpectedly, but Wanda never faltered in her actions. "I'm cumming, please fuck don't stop!" Your knot began to swell even though you had nothing to dump it into.

Wanda was quick to squeeze and tug at the knot trying its best to form. "Awe, your poor little cock wants to breed me so bad. Too bad you're just a tiny little alpha that can't handle that responsibility." She squeezed your knot until she was sure every last bit of cum had leaked out of it. "I got one more surprise for you, pup." Her pace had become hellishly fast as she rutted against you.

You were as confused as you could be with seven inches drilling into you, but you weren't lucid enough to ask. Wanda had practically abused your prostate and you were already about to cum again. You were so sensitive, but Wanda didn't seem to be paying any mind to it. Just before your second orgasm had overcome you, you felt something sticky and hot coating the inside of your walls. Wanda was cumming inside of you somehow. You were being bred. The mere thought had you cumming again in mere seconds.

Your second orgasm was short but had taken everything out of you. Without another word, you collapsed onto the bed and tried recollecting yourself. "How-," You coughed to clear your throat. "How'd you do that?" You could feel your hole twitching and trying its best to keep the cum inside once Wanda had pulled out.

Wanda slowly climbed off the bed and moved your legs so you could lay down flat on the bed. "Just a little magic. Now don't move, I have to patch you up before we can shower." She quickly discarded the harness, which could be cleaned in the morning. She hadn't exactly planned out how she was going to claim you, but she always kept a medical kit in her bathroom just in case. Getting to use it had made her unbelievably happy. "It's going to sting a bit, but just bear with me a bit."

You had fought against all kinds of crazy things. Super soldiers, robots, aliens, and even highly trained assassins, but you still flinched at the feeling of alcohol being dabbed across the tiniest of cuts. Granted, the mark Wanda had left on your neck was not small, but it still hurts nonetheless. "Do you have to cover it up? I want everyone to see." A low whine came from you as Wanda pressed the gauze against your neck and taped them down.

"I know you do, pup, but I don't want to risk it getting infected. It's just for a few days." Wanda placed a light kiss on top of the bandage and nuzzled the side of your neck. "I promise to scent you every day so no one will bother you." The sound of you purring was music to her ears. Purring meant you felt safe and relaxed. "Now let's get you showered up and in some new clothes."

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