#the blip was an awful idea | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelhoney · 6 months

Text

#1 girl

pairing: dbf joel miller x afab/sorority sister reader

kenny here... tumblr Blipped me u guys. but i loved this too much to let it waste into nothingness. so here we go again take two using an ancient blog i never even used (from 2016 mind u...) enjoy!

You're too wrapped up in sorority duties to remember somebody's supposed to pick you up and drive you home tonight. One pissed-off Joel, curious conversation, and cowboy hat later, your evening takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: no outbreak au, dbf!joel, self gratuitous age gap (21/51), shy reader w/ some bursts of confidence, blowjob (m receiving), handjob (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, degradation too..., overuse of pet names... must b all

Of all the ways you imagined spending your fifth day of spring break, the last was in your dad’s best friend’s pickup truck with lame rock playing dryly through the console radio. In fact, last is generous—the idea itself had never even been conjured in your head.

The reason why is because you and your dad’s best friend—Mr. Miller—don’t typically interact beyond the confines of dinners, mandatory laughter, and the occasional one-on-one about something like boys in college, or classes in college, or the drive to college. Nothing much had changed when you moved the brief drive away to UT Austin, and between you everything’s remained the same, even now in your senior year.

For instance, a break—summer, spring, winter—would begin with your parents picking you up and shuttling off to the house, and end with an affair of the similar sort. Quickly into your first year, though, you learned to always insist you either leave school late or leave home early for spring break to take advantage of campus parties, especially because your senior year had cemented your shiny new position as President of Alpha Phi.

Any officer position in a sorority already came with a good deal of responsibility, let alone the presidency; and in addition to having recently turned twenty-one, the role required you to exhaust every drop of social battery, every ounce of skill you had at party hosting and alcohol obtaining without the use of a flimsy fake.

The eliminated nerves of using fakes made you much less nervous during parties, which often led to you letting more loose than usual. This party you’re in was thrown by some frat on campus, but this house is your last place of four; first two pregames, then a bar, then here. At some point at the bar your sisters had surprised you with a fun gift for the night, so you’re also wearing a pink sash, onto which rhinestones spelling out #1 Girl have been glued with precision.

Already you’re dizzy, wiping clammy fingers on the stiff cotton of your tight tank top, the curve of your tits spilling over the Alpha Phi logo. It’s small on you, the hem high above your navel and higher above the loose, low hem of your denim shorts. If they fell low enough on your hips, the high arch of your pink thong would’ve shown itself—maybe it did at some point, you’re too loopy to care.

“Oh, no,” you’re saying, but you can barely hear yourself over the rap song playing and everyone singing along, “no, I hate Jäger.” You’re shaking your head at your best friend and Vice President, Lia, who raises two handfuls of the opaque liquid. She shakes her head, sets them down on the table you’re leaning against.

“Lighten up, duuude. We’re taking them to celebrate your first and last spring break as President.”

“Aw, fine,” you muse loudly, giving in. “Only this once.” Out of obligation and genuine gratitude, you allow yourself to stomach your least favorite drink—then another, and another, a bit of each shot dribbling down the column of your throat and stickily onto your chest.

Lia snaps at the red bra strap that peeks out of your tank strap, laughing. “Settle down, Prez.” A partygoer, rowdy as they come, roughly deposits a sweaty cowboy hat onto your head and you yelp in surprise, steadying it. Whoever gave this, I’m keeping it! you holler, laughing as you feed yourself a shot of something your tongue enjoys more.

Absolut crowds the inside of your mouth when you take it back, interrupted only when a hand comes to shake at your shoulder. In your rush to turn, you nearly hit them with your hat.

It’s Cole, a good friend and member of the frat whose house you’re currently getting tipsy in. His eyes are rimmed and the whole air of him smells like weed. He offers one greeting: “Yo.” His eyes slide down to your chest, where your tugged-down tank has exposed a few inches of your red bra’s lacy cups.

“Hey,” you say, the syllable sounding sticky. “Up here, you ass. Jägerbomb?” You offer a smile.

“‘M a’ight. Listen, some…” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to place what he’s here to tell you. Then he nods, having remembered—“Right. Some old guy’s out front asking for you.”

“Asking for me? Old… guy?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, mind foggy. “My dad?” Shit. You’d completely forgotten they’d be picking you up today or tomorrow. Maybe they’d been waiting for hours—it’s one-thirty, the clock on the living room mantel reads.

“Nah, man, not your dad, this guy’s… he’s got a red pickup truck, um, he’s, like, he’s old looking.” He raises a hand above his own head. “Tall.” His voice is drawly with the weed high, but as soon as he said red pickup, you knew exactly who he was talking about. One look at your phone confirms it—five missed calls and a message, 11PM, sent by your dad: Joel’s in the area for work. He’s going out with buddies but can swing by the house to pick you up. I’m giving him your #.

“Fuck.” You blink. “Fuck! I gotta go.”

You never usually have to pack shit to go home, considering the drive isn’t too far. Briefly you consider making a detour to collect things from your sorority house, but you decide to sacrifice the laptop and the few important chargers. So, armed with only your phone, you wrench your way out of the crowd, a few goodbyes thrown in your direction and back.

The front door is open so the partygoers spill onto the front yard, intermittent conversation littering the area. Along the pavement, frat guys’ Civics and and Priuses are parked beside an old looking red pickup truck; leaned against it is—

“Mr. Miller,” you blurt out when you’re closer to him, voice steady (your mind is just as well, shocked back to lucidity from his presence). “I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be picking me up today—tonight—” You heave a sigh, apologetic, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sorry.”

His arms are crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even from a few feet away you can make out the shape, the lines of muscle on his forearms. He looks tired, moody—more than usual—and your heart pangs with guilt at the idea that you could be the reason behind it. But despite your best—really, your best—efforts, your stomach still swoops the same way it did when you were seventeen and naive, enough to find next-door-neighbor Mr. Miller extremely handsome. Hell, extremely hot.

It didn’t make sense. You’d suspected your little crush would be that—an adolescent, childish thing, evaporating more and more into thin air with every drive made to campus. But he never stopped being handsome, never stopped his corny jokes and the pet names that got you warm every time you visited over break. You had plenty of eye candy on campus, athletes and gamers alike, and yes you’d been picky, but had managed to sleep with a select few—despite all of it, only the remnants of your fantasies of Mr. Miller satiated you when your hand creeps into the apex of your thighs late at night, lust wrangling shame into silence for a few minutes.

You blink and the train of thought is over—the real thing is here, eyebrows set low, mouth frowning.

“Kiddo,” he starts, his voice thin with exhaustion, “look, I’ve done my share of… drinkin’, and that. I get it. But you gotta…” He clicks his tongue, eyes looking your outfit up and down. “You gotta let me know, let your parents know, where you are, and if you’re okay. ‘Cause I really did not want to spend tonight drivin’ from house to bar, to bar to house, feelin’ like I was lookin’ all over Austin for you.”

“I know,” you supply quickly, nodding. Your hands, fidgety, find purchase on the fibres of the silk sash strung along your figure. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t check my phone the entire evening, and—”

“It’s okay.” He says, nonchalant, lifting himself off the side of the car to walk to the drivers’ side. Gruffly, he adds, “Car.”

You’re quick to tug the door open, settling yourself on the passenger seat and breathing nervously. Your legs are littered with body glitter, your chest with the tack of Jäger. You spot him outside, his walk slow. He’s annoyed—rightfully so—stopping just shy of the door to pinch at the bridge of his nose, his lips miming a slow exhale. When he finally wrangles himself to sit, it’s quiet for a minute, then another.

“Y’have fun?” He starts the car, thrumming it to life. You nod, then offer a verbal answer—yeah. He nods, wiping a palm over his face. “What were you up to?”

“I, um… I organized a pregame for my sorority.” You toy with the rogue strands of denim of your shorts. “We went to a bar, after… then another… then, well.” You gulp. “Here.” The last question escapes you in a shaky, breathy squeak. “And you?”

“Hah, sure, kid. Had some contractor thing, half an hour from here. Then drinks with a coupl’a buddies from work. Could’ve been home by eleven-thirty,” he says roughly, driving through the still-vibrant streets of campus, “but it’s nearin’ two and I’m on a college campus.” The urge to apologize bubbles at your lips, high in your stomach, but you remain quiet. After a few stretches of dry silence, he asks again. “That party must’ve been real fun for you to leave your old man—and me—on radio silence, wun’nit?”

“Sure,” you manage, stammering. “We were celebrating my sorority presidency.” The dark scenery of Austin blurs past.

“Oh, sorority presidency,” he repeats, both teasing and genuinely curious. “I did hear your dad mention you were in Alpha Phi, s’that right?” You nod. “What’s that, then? Do presidents get cowboy hats?”

Your face grows hot, hands reaching up to clutch at the rim of the hat atop your head. “No, this—somebody put it—it was a joke, Mr. Miller.” A huffy laugh escapes you. “Sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, and you wrench the reminder he’s 51 he’s 51 he’s 51 through your head while he pauses, “‘m drivin’ you around Austin late at night, and I’ve known you for your whole life. How ‘bout we drop the Mr. Miller act, alright?”

“Oh. Okay,” you say. His hands grip the steering wheel firmly, and your eyes wander to his arms, to how he’s basically stuffed into the shirt he’s wearing, big and broad and bulky. His eyes remain focused ahead, so you let yourself indulge a tad bit more—lower, to the material of his jeans. It’s dark in the truck, so you can’t see much, just the flex of his thighs. “Joel.”

“Attagirl.” You chew at the inside of your cheek, already feeling arousal simmering in you, low and dirty. You’re going to soak through this godforsaken thong. “Mind if I make a pit stop?” You shake your head profusely, watch as he pulls into a gas station parking lot. “Want anythin’, girl?”

“N—” your lips form, but you scrap your original answer. “Gum, if they have it.”

“Be damned if they don’t.” He slams the door shut and you watch him enter the store, watch him through the glass panels. He’s so broad. You’d nearly completely forgotten how stupidly you liked him, and now it’s coming, throttling back full-force, especially with the thrilling aspect of it possibly coming to fruition. You are, after all, an adult. And so is he, paying for his shit with a tight-lipped expression, arms crossed again, arms big and—Jesus.

You squeeze your thighs together, willing yourself to get your shit in place when he pulls the door open again, his eyes scanning your seated figure. He tosses you the packet of gum, and you respond with a sweet thank you, Mr. M—Joel, and you fiddle with the packaging as he starts the car again, driving until scenery grows more and more familiar, closer to home.

“By the way,” he says, voice husky with the unuse of not talking for a while. “Think it’s best you spend the night at my house tonight, kid. It’s late. Later than late.” 2:44, the console digital clock reads in blinky red text. “Your parents don't want the door rattlin’ open at this hour, so I’ll let you in the guest room.”

“Oh,” you say. “Sure.”

“D’you have a change of clothes?” He asks, even if he knows you climbed into the seat with nothing but your phone and a cowboy hat. You shake your head and he tsks. “You’re barely covered, sweetheart. Best be careful walkin’ around when the night’s this chilly.”

Barely covered. You think of every possible response, but what leaves your glossed lips is the riskiest: “What do you mean, barely covered?”

You figure if he starts saying shit like what are you insinuatin’, kiddo? You better sleep at yours tonight instead, it’s an easy out—you’re turning the corner onto your street now, and your stomach is boiling with nerves, sticky and anticipatory. “I jus’ mean… it shows a lotta skin.”

“It’s sorority merch, Joel,” you reply, half-amused and half-defensive.

“No, I”—he sighs, like he wants to backtrack what he’s just said—“I know, but… always worth somethin’ to be careful. Might catch a cold with all that leg… all that—you—showin’.” He parks in front of his house, this sizey, homey thing, and your heart flips knowing how familiar this place has been to you your entire life.

“I’m not going to wear winter gear to a spring break frat party.” You’re bolder, suddenly, but even if the statement is, your voice is level, meek, even. Joel nods, as if admitting defeat, and gets out of the car first; you follow, sneakers crunching against the asphalt as you follow him into the house.

“I hope,” he starts when you’re stationed beside him at the door, “I didn’t… offend you. I was jus’ concerned, is all.” Then he’s stoic again, slipping inside, straight to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water. He flicks a yellow light on and you squint when you get there, rubbing at your eyes to prevent them from aching.

You’re still rubbing at them when his gaze drops from your fussed-up hair and askew hat down to the shiny surface of your chest. Your goddamn top leaves him nothing to the imagination, your tits spilling out of it scandalously. The low cut even lets your bra peek through, red and bright and hey, you show up from college wearing these large university shirts and sweatpants—not this, never this. And your shorts, the way they’re really just a fucking belt, starting low on your hips and cut off high above your thighs.

Alpha Phi, the pink text on your white top reads on the left chest area. Right where your tits curve into the top, the slogan is printed: Union hand in hand. God, sororities and their fucking… quotable bullshit. And don’t get him started on the sash, this cutesy, frilly thing he wants to loop around your wrists so he can fuck you over the counter. He knows he can’t—it’s so wrong, so wrong. He’s known your dad for ages.

But you… you're so tempting, a little minx, chirping Mr. Miller all sweet and apologetic, chest out on full display. He blinks when he hears your voice filter through the fog in his head. “—off?”

“What was that, sweetheart?” His eyes meet yours again and he feels a twinge of embarrassment at the way your bashfulness has somewhat melted to give way to the clear amusement on your face. You must’ve spotted the way he ogled you; he wasn’t exactly trying his hardest to be subtle, unfortunately.

“D’you have something I can use to wipe myself off?” You gesture to your sticky collarbone area. “I got Jäger all over myself. Can’t handle the stuff.” You grimace at the memory, and he goes to grab a wet wipe; while waiting, you hoist yourself up onto the counter, bare legs swinging.

Joel turns to toss you the packet of wipes, but his throat dries before he can even call your name out. Your back is to him, and clearly you’re waiting for his return—you’ve busied yourself by sitting on his counter and letting the hot pink lace of your thong rise above the waistline of your shorts. Lord have mercy, he thinks to himself, adjusting his jeans as he walks back over to you.

“Wipes,” he says roughly, not anything else.

You accept the packet and smile shyly. “Can you…” you pause, the implication hovering over both of you, heavy. “Wait for me?” He nods, inviting. Warm. And he watches, inviting but not very warm anymore, the way you wipe over the expanse of your chest, over the curve of your tits, every other part of you dusted in glitter.

“So,” you say again. “Since we’re on first name basis now, Joel, I, um—I hope it’s okay to ask questions.”

“Sounds reasonable. Go for it,” he accepts.

“When’s the last time you went to a party?” Your smile is mischievous.

He chuckles, a huff of air. “...Long, long ago, kid. Back in my day, partyin’ meant beer, maybe a little weed… not that I'm complaining there, you understand.” He nods resolutely. “These days, a quiet home-cooked meal with just the people I really care about… is a party.”

“Wow, what an old guy answer,” you giggle. “Back in youuuur day.” Your raspy, honeyed voice wraps around the your with a teasing lilt.

“Oh, I’m old now, am I?” His stoic demeanor chips away when he laughs. “That makes you what, sweetheart? You’re barely a pup.”

At his words—at the utterance of pup—you roll your eyes and try to shift your seating so your thong doesn’t stick to your folds. “Okay, fine, next.” You’re not even wiping anymore, the material wrung into your fingers, which lay in a fist by your side. “When’s the last time you got shitfaced?”

He gives a grimace of a smile. “Aw… boy, it's been a while.” He comes closer, going from leaning on the opposite drawers to right beside you on the counter. You’re sitting and he’s leaning but still he’s taller, just a bit level. “But there was that one time back in my more adventurous days, when I was younger. A bachelor party wh… well, the details don't really bear talkin’ ‘bout in polite conversation.” He raises his eyebrows. “Why ya askin’ all this? What’s will all the last times?”

“I’m curious, is all.” You smile, leaning back; if his eyes drop just a bit, he’ll see right through your top, maybe even underneath the cup of your bra. “Okay, fine one last… last time.” You giggle, breathy. “When’s the last time you… had sex?”

The air shifts, and Joel clears his throat before chuckling. “S’none of your business, young lady. A gentleman is not raised to kiss and tell.”

“Oh, but he gets shitfaced n’ tells?” You test, pouting and leaning closer toward him so you can quiet your voice. “Come on. I won’t tell anyone I even asked.”

He sighs, contemplating. “Well… it’s been a while.” He gets his fair share of lays, when he goes out to bars with friends or the rare date, but nothing too drastic. It has been a few months. “But you didn’t hear that from me, understood? Now, let’s drop it.”

But you don’t drop it, you brat. “You’re like the born again 40-year-old virgin,” you tease smoothly.

“Try 51, honey,” he grunts out, depositing your dry wipes at the disposal across you. He turns back around, restrained.

“And what, you don’t wanna change that?” No, he thinks—what he wants is to take you over the counter ’til you’re sobbing and sore.

“Hey now, don’t think I don’t think about it sometimes. But I jus’—I don't wanna get involved with no one, even though... Hell, if I met the right person, I might just change my mind. Ain’t that the way it goes?”

“That’s such an antiquated view of sex,” you quip boldly, pressing your arms to your sides. “What happened to just having one good fuck?”

His eyes flicker down then up. “Well, hey. Slow down with the cursin’, sweetheart. And what in the hell makes you think I don’t do that?” He crosses his arms, offering a raised eyebrow and an insufferably smug smile.

“You didn’t necessarily object when I called you a twice-over virgin.”

He chuckles. “There’s more than one way to let it all out, my girl. You don’t have to just go all in to hit the spot.” The thought of him using his own—or some girl’s, actually, hand, throat… to get off, gets you all hot. You want to be that girl. His girl.

“Like how?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Old man like myself probably can’t offer tricks you’ll find… useful.” He grunts, prepares to go upstairs. He reaches over you for the packet of wipes and your proximity urges him to stop, savor the closeness before the rational part of him reminds him you’re his best mate’s daughter.

“Okay, fine,” you say sweetly, voice much quieter—reserved just for the space between you two. “One last, then.”

Mmm, he huffs affirmatively, greenlighting your request. Impatient.

“Since when did old men do that?” You ask, inquisitive, placing emphasis on his self-proclaimed old man title.

“What? Entertain l’il minxes like yourself?” He responds, intending to break your newly-built façade of smugness.

“No,” you respond coolly. “Pack nine inches.” Then you’re clambering off the counter and walking to the stairs. He inhales sharply at the sudden vulgarity of your words, watches every move, every little bounce of your pert ass under the tiny shorts, the wave of your hair, every flex of the ridden-up lace thong against your back.

You turn briefly. “Coming or what?” And then you slip upstairs.

He hears the pad of your footsteps grow quiet and shuts his eyes, letting his composure waver in your absence.

Had he known Harold’s little girl would turn out to be the world’s biggest fucking tease—Jesus Christ. “Lord,” he rasps under his breath, repeating a mantra, holding back the urge to palm himself through his jeans. “Lord, have mercy.” Then he follows you, already spotting something different—the open door at the end of the hall.

His open door. It’s the one that directly mirrors your parents’, a revelation they all had a good laugh at. Sometimes if a matter was so pressing, a well-aimed pebble to the glass window would get Joel’s attention well enough. The lights are flicked on, cool-warm, in his bedroom. You’re in his bedroom.

Or you’re not. He walks in to find no trace of you, save for the scuffed white sneakers by the doorframe. He toes off his own boots and spots the walk-in closet light’s also been flicked on.

“Christ, you’re quick. You’re s’posed to be in the guest room.” He gestures vaguely to the one on the left side of the hall, even if you can’t see him.

“I had to pee. And I needed something to sleep in,” you say politely from inside. He grunts softly to himself at the thought of you undressing in there, the thought of you pulling on something of his.

“Get out of there,” he orders. “I’ll get you somethin’.” Under his breath he mutters, “S’my goddamn closet.”

You chirp okay but he adds anyway: “Hurry, out.”

So you do follow him, even follow the order to hurry, because you’re hasty in your exit, clutching the cowboy hat to your chest. “Sit.” He points to the bed, watches you set the hat next to yourself gingerly. And one last time he asks the Lord for mercy, quietly and in his head, before shutting off every other rational thought that had stopped him tonight.

You follow suit, hat still clutched to your torso, and he slowly comes to stand just in front of you, your face level with the buckle of his leather belt. When you shift he catches sight of the side of your bra, the lace of it. Eyes cast to your bare thighs, you pipe up.

“By the way, Mr. Miller—Joel, I didn’t mean to say any of—I mean, I thought we could talk comfortably about it… that… stuff, but I took it too f—”

“You’re damn fuckin’ right you took it too far.”

He spits it out roughly, harshly. Like he’s scolding you. A zip of shock goes through you—you hadn’t heard him swear so loud before. Maybe he is. “I give you a free ride home at half past one, give you water, give you a place to sleep for the night knowin’ damn well your momma n’ dad would both have killed ya if you stepped foot in that house wearin’ next to nothing. What do I get in return?” He looks down at you, two rough fingers jerking your chin to look up at him.

“I—” you squeak, your voice and confidence betraying you. You’ve soaked through your panties at his sudden switch in behavior. Like you’d broken a dam.

“I get a brat… whorin’ herself out to me like I’m not over twice her age.” He tuts, like he really is disappointed, and your heart almost drops. “I get all these damn questions about sex, like you think I’ll break and fuck you on my kitchen counter.” He was considering it. “All the teasin’, all the skirtin’ around in a thong and a fuckin’…” He shakes your chin. “S’there even anythin’ in that head of yours, honey?”

Your mouth’d been open. You shut it and lick over your lips. “Yeah,” you defend weakly. His hand lowers to stroke at the column of your throat, then to hook under the tight strap of your bra, peeking out under the white of your top. He sidles it back and forth.

“S’this why you asked me all those dumb questions downstairs, huh, sweetheart? ‘Cause you wanted me to pull your top open and fawn over this”—he yanks the hat away, revealing your torso underneath—“little show o’yours?” Your cleavage is sinful, downright—perfect, perky, inviting him to mouth at your tits. Your sash sits prettily above them and he can’t help but pull at it, too, jolting you toward him.

“N—” you inhale sharply, letting him pull and push you around as he pleases. He observes the blinding glittery writing on the pink material and lets out a humorless, self-satisfied huff of laughter.

“Number… one… girl.” His rough thumb grazes over the divots of the rhinestones. “That’s jus’ about right, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice small.

“I’m not sure I agree, baby girl,” he drawls. His touch is precise—he knows exactly where to go, what he’s doing—but rough, dirty, almost, and the huge size of his hands don’t help to support otherwise. He tugs down your tank top so it’s tucked underneath your bra, and you yelp, making a move to cover yourself. He laughs again—“Sure, go all shy on me like you haven’t been showin’ yourself off to me all night. Knees.”

You get off quick, so quick you’re dizzy when you steady yourself on two knees. Two lithe hands make their way to his belt but he steps backward, revels in your evident confusion, clumsiness, the flush high on your cheekbones. “Buckle down, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“No goddamn buts. Listen to me.” He ends up being the one to make work of his belt, and while he talks you have to bite your lip to keep from going slack-jawed at the sight of him. You’d been kidding about the nine inches thing, but Christ he’s huge, strained against the tight denim. He’s thick even under the layers of clothing, and all you want to do is choke on him. “You’re gonna let me use that mouth t’get off, first thing,” he grunts, like this is all some chore to him, “because I am not goin’ to put my cock in my best mate’s daughter.”

“How about,” you croak lightly, “your fingers, then?”

“Jesu—we’ll see.” He tugs his cock out then, and he’s fucking huge, he really is, his tip angry and flushed and being rubbed along your lips, sticking them up with his precum. He sighs contentedly, humming low, the vibration sent straight to your half-open mouth. You suck on the tip of him, watch a slow smile form on his face. “That sash oughta say somethin’ else.”

Your silence grants elaboration. “Number one slut, maybe.” You shift on your thighs, trying to hide how aroused you are at his mean behavior. But he can tell, he can watch the way your blinking slows, the way your eyes glazed over, glassy and teary from trying to take more of him. He doesn’t tell you to slow down, or go faster; he just watches, eyebrows knitted, focused. “Budge up.”

A hand, big and calloused, threads through your hair and gives a tug, goading your mouth open so more of his cock slips past. Your jaw aches from the attempt alone, so you pull off before you start choking too much, tonguing at the parts of him you can’t reach—lower, until you’re laving at his balls. He grunts, pleasured, simmered down. Attagirl. Then you’re back, bobbing up and down, trying despite yourself to take all of him, until your eyes are watery and you’re spluttering, choked.

“Now this is…” He says, and it comes out in a contented little sigh, “a number one throat. Keep those pretty lips open, honey, ‘m gonna fuck them.”

You do, your achy jaw slacked as he begins bucking into your mouth, the sounds of your choking only spurring him on. He’s dominant, taking and taking, and you’re humiliated to find how wet you are, soaked through the lace of your thong and darkening the denim of your shorts. The tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat only gets him to thrust even faster, watching tears fall from your eyes, streaky with mascara. His best friend’s daughter, taking dick like a fucking champ.

He thrusts harder, each sound emitting a nasty, incoherent noise out of you, choked little gasps that have him harder each time. Gonna fuck this throat raw, he mutters. Since that’s what you wan’ed, ain’t it? You reach up, light fingers massaging his balls, and then his hips stutter, and with barely any warning, you feel his hot seed shoot into your throat, little satisfied groans leaving the man above you.

You swallow what you can, limited by his dick still in your mouth. When he pulls out you lap at the cum left behind, circle your tongue around your lips, make a whole show of it. You speak again, your voice raspy and spent: “Please, my turn?”

He lifts you up and smirks at the way you yelp in surprise, tossing you onto the bed and pulling you back onto your knees, your back to his chest. He wrangles your shorts off, gives your ass a smack as he pulls them down, enough to expose what’s underneath. The stiff material gathers just above your bent knees, restraining you from moving much.

“D’you know what,” he says, still sounding angry—like he’s lecturing you, stern, “I could’ve been in bed, wakin’ up at six to work… instead I gotta teach this little brat a fuckin’ lesson. Your old man not teach y’enough manners?” He tugs your bra down, thumbs roughly at your pebbled nipples, wrenching a moan out of you. He’s hard again, dick poking into your ass, and fuck you want him in you.

“He didn’t,” you sniffle, pitiful. “Y’gotta teach me, Daddy.”

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she?” He grumbles, like the title is annoying, juvenile. The way his cock twitches tells you otherwise. “Shut up, baby honey. I got this.” He reaches up your thighs and the ticklish, pleasurable sensation gets you hot.

Joel, you whimper, seizing in on yourself. He grabs your other arm, pulls it back toward him so you remain open and pliant. Please, wait.

“No time for waitin’, not when you spend hours prancin’ around like a little whore, sweetheart.” Without preamble, he’s running his fingers up your thighs again, not stopping this time until his fingers are pressing into your clit, rubbing over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. “And you’re so fucking wet for me. My number one girl, ain’t you?”

“Yea,” you babble dumbly. “Your number one girl.”

“Thaaat’s right. My girl needs her needy cunt filled up, don’t she? By Daddy’s fat fingers.” You nod along, drawn in by the vulgarity of his words, the way he spits them out. You’ve spent several nights fantasizing how his big, rough hands would feel on you—and you’ve been outproven. He’s so fast, so skilled with his fingers; they feel delicious in you. And you can’t stop thinking about all of those girls he implied he’s slept with, the way they probably got to this first. Lucky bitches.

He’s gotten you so wet the entire night, even moreso now, that your pussy is making obscene squelching noises with each pump of his fingers, these nastily loud noises that humiliate you, that turn you on even more, that make you drip all onto Joel’s linen sheets. Fuck, you whimper. He swats at your ass. No swearing, he’s saying.

“Look up for me, honey. Up at the window.” Outside, the sun’s beginning to crawl over Austin, just the faint blues and yellows of early morning. You realize you know this because his curtain’s been pulled open—by him, earlier, before any of this even started, you assume. And the only other thing you can see other than the sky and the sliver of the neighborhood is your parents’ window.

“No,” you plead, looking down. He doesn’t let you, tugs you back up to look by your hair. He knows your parents won’t be up ’til seven-thirty latest. But you don’t know that, and for now, you don’t have to.

“What then, huh, sweetheart? When they go to check on the weather n’ they see their best friend poundin’ their young daughter? What’d they think?” You jerk away, overcome with pleasure and embarrassment at the imaginary situation. You feel his fingers pump in and out of you, filling you up. They’re probably thick and hot, glistening each time they come out. You’re tightening up; you’ll cum soon, make a mess on his hand, which already drips with slick. “So you better hurry. Better make a mess on me soon.”

“I am, I’m—I’m gonna,” you moan. You’re wrapped up in the way his fingers play you just the right way. You’re so close to the surface, and you’ve been wanting this for way too long, so you nod, let yourself get carried away by his words, let yourself give in, spreading your legs as wide as they can go as he fingerfucks you, working out the tension that’s been building up for forever.

“That’s my number one girl,” he grins into your neck, and you’re convulsing release onto his hand, wetting it even further. He wraps a hand around your waist, keeps you close to his figure, his erection at the small of your back. “That’s it, honey. Did so well for me.”

“I want it,” you say meekly. “Even if they see.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, you must think real low of me to believe I’d put my cock anywhere near Harold’s daughter’s pussy.”

You tug your panties fully down, just enough so they fall off on their own the rest of the way, and guide his slick hand behind yourself, pressing his finger first into your folds again, sensitive, and then up toward your tighter hole.

You feel his breath tighten behind you when you say: “How ‘bout there?”

#dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller tlou #the last of us #tlou x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #pedro pascal x reader #tlou smut

2K notes · View notes

foli-vora · 1 year

Text

without you

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: made myself hurt with this one tbh. I'll think about a part 2 if enough are interested, but I'll warn you - it won't be a happy ending lmao. Enjoy the angst-fest loves! x

Summary: You return after the 'blip'. Five years is a long time, and a lot of things can happen in that time.

Word count: 2.1kish

Warnings: ANGST. ANGST ANGST ANGST. i got sad af writing this. i don't even know what to put in the warnings. the events of infinity war & endgame, brief mention of the avengers, severe and utter fucking heartbreak, i would lose my fucking mind coming home after an apparent 5 years and finding the love of my life *******, lots of anxiety/panic, severe panic attack, passing out. no hate to karen here - she's a fucking babe.

It happens within a blink.

One moment there’s no one, and the next, an older woman is suddenly standing in your way and you can’t help the brief twitch of annoyance that she’s there. You have a meeting, you have groceries to get… you can’t just play chicken with a stranger on the pavement all afternoon.

She freezes, like many others you notice, and your frown deepens, confusion starting to take over the irritation. They all look at you, but not just you.

Time seemingly comes to a momentary freeze and you just don’t understand. Why is she looking at you like that?

The next minute—panic.

There’s a rush.

People scramble for their phones, they run. Cars swerve and there’s chaos. There are people crying, people start screaming, but there’s also awe, laughter. People embrace strangers. You know they’re strangers by the way they look around in complete bewilderment in the arms of the other, seemingly just as confused as you.

Five years.

Why do you keep hearing ‘five years’? Why are shop fronts different? What the hell has happened?

“You’re… you’re all back,” the woman utters, tears starting to build along her lash line.

Back?

You feel it in the pit of your stomach, a sick feeling of dread slowly building until it feels like it sticks uncomfortably in your throat. Something happened. You don’t know what, you don’t know how, all you know is that you need to go home immediately.

It’s halfway back to the apartment, after passing things that weren’t there previously, shops that you had passed just hours before now different, and your phone simply refusing to connect for unknown reasons, that you break into a panicked run.

You want home, you want somewhere familiar.

Matt left for work the same time as you—would the new mayhem taking over the streets bring him home to you? Maybe he’d already be waiting, sensing the frenzy before you?

The view of your building is a welcome relief, and you slow as you reach the door, heart pounding in your chest as you take the stairs as quickly as possible. The apartment is unlocked, and you berate yourself for forgetting to lock up earlier, but Matt’s cane resting by the door turns your inward irritation to understanding.

He’s home. He got here before you. He must be waiting, maybe he’d have answers—

“Matty?” you call, “do you have any idea what’s—”

A clatter, a sweep of air, and then he’s on you.

He’s curled around you before you can even finish, his arms so tight and constricting you struggle to take in a full breath. He’s talking, muttering incoherent words into the skin of your throat and all you can do is stand there, mind whirling in a maddening rush, not even able to lift your arms to return his embrace due to his restrictive hold.

“You’re here,” he breathes, almost disbelieving, “you’re here. I didn’t want to have hope but—God, I—”

“Matt, I’m so confused,” you breathe, unsure of why tears are starting to gloss your eyes or why your heart suddenly feels like it’s beating in the back of your throat, “what’s going on? It’s crazy out there, I don’t know wh—”

“I know. I know, sweetheart. I’ve missed you. God, I’ve missed you. It’s been so long, I didn’t think I’d ever—” he trails off, unable to finish his sentence and a few more panicked kisses press into the side of your throat.

He’s crying.

You feel the wetness of his tears smear over your skin and it’s enough to bring your own falling heavily from your eyes. What is he talking about? You saw him this morning, only mere hours ago. You made breakfast, you kissed him goodbye like every other day, nothing had been different.

“Matt,” you whimper, “what the hell is going on?”

—

Five years. You were gone for five years. Just one day—poof. Out of existence, never to be seen again. The city had been clouded by dust, remnants of those also taken disappearing with the autumn breeze. So many people just lost. You don’t remember any of it.

There was no pain, no suffering. You had no recollection of the time lost at all, and yet for Matt it had been years.

Years since he had touched you, kissed you, felt you. He tells you that he looked for you for weeks, months. Even went to the damn Avengers—or what was left of them—and found out what had happened. He’d been distraught, falling into a deep, dark pit of despair and heartbreak from the sudden loss of you.

You cry for him, for the time you’d lost together.

Nothing could ever make up for it. Sure, you’re here now, but could you ever truly make up for the loss of time? What had he gone through during your absence?

The two of you don’t part for what feels like hours.

Matt clings to you, inhaling you deeply and kissing whatever inch of skin he could reach. He doesn’t pull away to answer your questions, instead letting the low rumble of his voice melt through the fabric of your shirt and flooding warmth along your shoulder.

His hands still roam over you, almost as if they’re retracing your dips and curves to remind himself of how you felt when you disappeared five years ago. You catch his fingers with a sweet flutter in your chest, lifting his hand to press a tender kiss to the back of it when the smooth feel of metal catches your attention.

It’s a simple gold band, fit snug around the fourth finger of his left hand and you rub your finger over the shiny surface of it in curiosity. He wasn't wearing a ring this morning...

A ring.

A wedding ring.

You feel sick.

He senses the moment you realise it, picking up on the sudden quicken of your heartbeat and the clammy sting of sweat that builds along the back of your neck.

His tongue darts out to moisten his lips as you stare at the smooth gold band in shock, feeling as if the room had suddenly gotten ten times smaller. He starts to shift, his fingers quickly flipping to wrap around your wrists to keep you from moving away.

“Let me explain—”

“You… are—are you married?”

“Sweetheart, please—”

You hurriedly stand, wrenching your hands from his and stumbling on your quick step back as he advances after you. He’s married? How can he be married?

Maybe he’s not. Maybe he just slid the ring you both picked out onto his finger when you disappeared in an effort to keep your memory fresh… but with the shine of guilt starting to seep into his features, you fear it’s not as sentimental as you hope.

Panic consumes you. Your eyes flitter around the room, your ears filling with a dull ring that drowns out whatever words fall from his lips as he cautiously steps after you.

It’s your apartment, but it’s… it’s not.

You start to notice the little things you had missed upon coming home so quickly. That throw over the back of the couch isn’t yours. The coffee mug next to Matt’s on the kitchen counter isn’t yours. Your trinkets aren’t lingering on the shelves where you’d placed them. Your shoes aren’t thrown by the door. Your photo with Matt isn’t in its usual spot on the wall.

Instead, another picture hangs there.

Bile burns the back of your throat. Your heart thunders away in your ears. You know what it is, you can see the general feel of it and who stands within the frame through blurry eyes, but you simply can’t accept it.

It’s morbid curiosity that makes you take those few steps towards it, a part of you screaming to not look, to turn away before it really hammers that final nail into the coffin and fucking destroys you. Maybe your mind needs to truly see it in order to make sense of it… but no. It only makes you more confused, more distressed.

What the fuck?

Oxygen is impossible. You can’t fucking breathe. You can’t—

“Sweetheart—”

It’s a wedding photo.

Matt’s wedding photo.

Matt and Karen’s wedding photo.

“Oh my god,” you whimper brokenly, clutching a hand to your chest in an effort to keep yourself together. You press where you feel the rapid beat of your heart, half wondering if you’d be able to feel the break of the frantic organ under your palm.

The room starts to spin.

This morning you’d woken up with an apartment and a fiancé, and now, only a few hours later, you have nothing. How can you have nothing? The apartment is home to you—you left your pyjamas on the floor of the bathroom this morning. You had your coffee at the counter. The love you feel for Matt is present as it always had been, there in the centre of your entire being, so sweet and consuming and yet, his love for you had seemingly vanished.

Disintegrated, along with your body apparently five years ago. Maybe with a clearer head, you’d come to understand that five years is a long time and it’s understandable that he had to move on at some point, but in the moment you feel nothing but hurt—rage.

Matt’s hands are frantic on your body, grabbing at your arms and keeping you from falling to the floor as a sob tears its way out of your chest. You can hear him try to soothe you, hear his worry that your heart is erratic and you just need to breathe.

Breathe, sweetheart—please, breathe.

You can’t. You simply can’t.

Oxygen isn’t coming as easily as it should. Your lungs burn. You’re shaking, unable to stop the tremble taking over your body as you choke on your tears. They burn your skin, painting your cheeks with the bitterness of your heartbreak and they just won’t stop.

He supports you as you sink towards the floor, legs no longer having the strength to hold you up. He goes down with you, hands cradling your head to his chest and you can’t find it in you to push him away and escape his touch.

It’s Matt. Your Matt.

You shouldn’t want to shrug him off. You shouldn’t feel guilty at his touch. He’s your Matt, has been for the eighteen months you’ve been together. It was meant to be you in that frame, swimming in white with a smile stretched along your lips, Matt dressed to the nines in an immaculate tux and his ever present red shades beside you.

But it’s not. It’s… it’s Karen.

It’s not you, there’s no trace of you anywhere to be seen. Had you been that forgettable? Foggy’s there, Marci a step behind holding a beautiful little girl with ribbons in her hair. They had a baby? You’ve missed so much.

You start weeping for the life you’d missed out on, for the chances and opportunities of growing older with them and the sweet potential you had had with Matt.

Gone.

All of it, just—gone.

Where would you be now had your soul not been chosen? Married? Promoted? A godmother to the sweet little angel cradled in Marci’s arms?

“Sweetheart, come back to me,” Matt’s voice cuts through your despair, low and soft in your ear and you cling to him tighter, “breathe. I’ve got you, I’m here.”

“I-I’ve lost so much,” you choke out, hiding your tear stricken face in his throat and desperately trying to get ahold of your body jerking with each difficult inhale and broken exhale, “and I didn’t even know—”

You didn’t know. You didn’t know anything when you apparently ‘returned’. It’s all so haunting and overwhelming and so fucking confusing.

He stills smells the same, feels the same, despite all these years. You cling to him, desperate for comfort in the moment of your utter heartbreak, but it doesn’t work like it used to and that only makes your pain increase tenfold. His hold feels wrong now. His hold isn’t for you anymore. He has a wife.

You still don’t understand. You can’t comprehend the fact that he’s married, that the arms that hold you are now meant for someone else. They were yours this morning. It’s not possible. You had him this morning; you felt him this morning, you kissed him—

“Sweetheart,” he’s urgent now, manoeuvring you in his hold until you sit in front of him, your back pressed up against his chest and his arms tight around your torso, “breathe with me. Feel my chest, listen to me and follow—in… and out. Come on—”

You pay attention to the exaggerated feel of him breathing against your back, focusing on every expansion of his chest and attempting to match the pace of your inhales. It doesn’t work. Your heart still thunders away against your ribs, your mind still runs fucking wild, and your eyes threaten to roll back from the rush of it all.

“Stay with me,” he begs, but his voice starts to sink to the back of your mind, taken over by the high pitched ring sounding in your ears.

It’s not long until black fully engulfs your vision, and Matt’s voice calling your name is the last thing you hear, frantic and terrified. Maybe you'll find peace in the darkness.

matty tags: @javier-pena, @dihra-vesa, @a-reader-and-a-writer, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @acourtofsnakes, @mstgsmy66, @evyiione, @stardust-galaxies, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @withasideofmeg, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @fangirl-316, @xoxabs88xox, @federleichtefreiheit, @lavenderluna10, @mindidjarin. @stardustingold, @androah, @itwasthereaminuteago, @wildmoonflower, @naughtynecromancer, @h-hxgirl, @Unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @celestinemuse, @chaoticemz, @alexxavicry, @mylifeispainandiloveit, @cran-berry-vodka, @nishi-reads, @mandocrasis, @lawfulgranola, @ew-erin, @fuckoffbard, @spaceserialkiller, @captain-jebi

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock angst #daredevil fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

haveyouseenthisskeleton · 3 months

Note

Undertale characters see S/O break a bone and then S/O basically just does a Far Cry healing animation and doesn’t even care they got hurt.

Undertale Sans - He grabs your arm gently but firmly, with dark eye sockets. "b u d d y ? N e v e r d o t h a t a g a i n." He hated every second of it. What's wrong with you? Go to the hospital like a normal person, you're going to hurt yourself more.

Undertale Papyrus - He faints. First, the shock of seeing your leg on the wrong side triggered him, but you simply putting it back in place like it's nothing? That's too much man. He can take a lot of things, but this is a big no.

Undertale Toriel - .... She was about to heal you, that for sure stopped her dead in her tracks. She's speechless. And immediately turns into Goat Mom mode and starts lecturing you about how dangerous this is and how it could have hurt you even more. Now you sit down this instant and you let her heal you properly.

Undertale Asgore - He lived hundreds of years and still discovers new things. Though, that one is maybe a bit too much. The noise of the bone snapping back into place made him so uncomfortable he suddenly panics his way out of the house, pretending he needed to get groceries or something.

Undertale Undyne - She stares in awe for a few seconds. Then she explodes. "This was AWESOME. Do it AGAIN!!!" She's very excited about this. She's even ready to break your arm if you need it! Come on!

Undertale Alphys - The scientist in her leaves her body. Why even try? You clearly have no idea how to fix a bone. It's so dangerous and you just act like everything is alright now??? How??? You should be screaming in agony???

Undertale Frisk - Well they can do cool things too. Frisk immediately struggles to lick their elbow with all they have.

Undertale Chara - They roll their eyes at you. You think you're in a video game or something? They're not taking you to the hospital when you realize you're dying because of how painful this is. You did that to yourself.

Undertale Mettaton - He gasps, then runs to you with a camera. Can he break one of your bones so you can do it again and put it in his next movie? Please, please, please, pretty please....

Undertale Gaster - He hisses at you, all his goop puffing like an angry cat. This is the worst sound he has ever heard, please never do that again or he's going to blip into another dimension again!

Undertale Grillby - He stays neutral, but his fire body suddenly burns for real, which means you triggered him. And now the bar is on fire, and Sans is on fire, and all the customers are running in circles screaming for their lives. What have you done?

Undertale Muffet - No big deal, it happens all the time with her eight arms too. She doesn't even notice when one is broken with time, as she has seven other functioning ones. You're not special, who cares.

Undertale Burgerpants - Oh look at that. He's dating another weird person. Welp, that's official. He has a type apparently. He wishes he didn't have one. Why can't he date normal people who do things like normal people should?

Undertale Flowey - Did you just pull out the friendliness pellet he threw inside your arm with your teeth? "You can't do that! That's illegal! I just broke that bone, you can't fix it like it's nothing! Cheater!" He's so mad! Stop breaking his fun. He wants to kill you!

Undertale Gerson - He wiggles his eyebrows at you. You know his back is hurting as well, right? You know. A little trick like that could help like hell. Come on. Don't be shy.

117 notes · View notes

marlynnofmany · 1 month

Text

The Right Time and Place

I was just sitting down for lunch alongside most of the crew when Captain Sunlight joined us with an announcement. She tapped her claws against the doorframe for attention.

“Minor detour before we reach the station,” she said when everyone quieted. “We’re taking a different wormhole, and doing a job on the way. This is a weird one. The client was cagey with the details. He said not to tell anyone else, so of course I’m telling all of you. Because you deserve to know what you’re getting into. Even if we’re not entirely sure what we’re getting into.” She shook her lizardy head in exasperation.

Zhee spoke up. “What’s the task, and why are we doing it?”

“We’re parking the ship briefly,” said the captain, waving vaguely in what I assumed was the direction of the wormhole. “In the middle of nowhere, at a precise location and time, staying there for at least fifteen minutes. Then we go get paid.”

“Huh,” said Paint. “That is weird.”

“Before anyone asks, I did press the client for specifics. He promises there are no hazards of any kind, and willingly signed every form I threw at him. He paid half up front. He paid extra! This is clearly very important, and he didn’t want to say why. But we’re covered if anything untoward happens, which it shouldn’t.”

Mur waved a tentacle. “He’s probably a spy. That’s my vote.”

Eggskin took a lid off a food dish with the air of someone deliberately not paying attention. “Spies are generally more subtle. In my experience.”

I made a mental note to ask Eggskin about that later. Zhee was talking now.

“What type of person was this client?” he asked. “As far as you know.”

Captain Sunlight recited a list, counting on her knuckles as she did. “Wealthy, planet-based, human, young adult…”

“Aw, human?” I said. “I would have liked to be there for that conversation, see if I could pick up any clues from body language. Did he seem calm, or twitchy like he knew it was a bad idea?”

Captain Sunlight spread her hands. “I’m sure I don’t know. But you’re free to speculate. It will be a while before we arrive at the designated location; you all may as well finish lunch. I just wanted to keep everyone informed.”

Nobody else had questions, so she left to tell the others who hadn’t heard yet. Mimi was still in the engine room, and Trrili was finishing a translation with Coals. Aside from Wio in the cockpit, that was all of us here.

And we were ready to talk about it.

“Maybe it’s a sport!” suggested Blip. “One we haven’t heard of yet!”

“Like what?” asked Blop. “He would have said if a ball was going to hit our ship, or something like that.”

“No, I mean like a strategy game, with pieces scattered around the galaxy. Maybe light has to reflect off our ship or something.”

“I still think he’s a spy,” insisted Mur.

Zhee turned back to his food. “I expect he’s an imbecile. Perhaps he lost something drifting in space, and wanted our ship to intercept it ‘accidentally.’”

Paint shook her head. “No, he would have said if something was on a collision course, even something soft.”

“I think it’s science,” Kavlae said, popping open a can of something. “No idea what the experiment is, or what we’re helping to accomplish, but something.”

I’d been thinking up other possibilities, and a new one occurred to me. “I wonder,” I said, “If he’s doing a really complicated marriage proposal.”

“A what?” Zhee asked, cleaning his mandibles in the bug-alien equivalent of licking his lips. “Oh, a mating offer. Aren’t those always complicated for your species?”

“They can be,” I said. “Some people like to make grand gestures, like pay to have it written in the sky, or something else visible and dramatic. I could see our ship being a last-minute replacement for one that couldn’t make it to the lineup in time.”

“Hm,” Zhee said noncommitally. “How embarrassing.” Then he stuck his face back in the bowl of intestines or whatever, and I looked somewhere else.

“That would be exciting,” Paint said. “I wonder if the captain asked about any other ships in the region.”

“Guess we’ll find out,” said Mur as he cracked a walnut with one tentacle. (Walnut-ish, at any rate. It looked kind of purple.)

“I hope we find out!” I said. “If the client manages to keep it a secret, I think we’ll all be disappointed.” The others agreed, and I turned my attention back to my own lunch. It was a peanut butter and honey sandwich, with apple slices and a fruit-and-veg smoothie. All tasty stuff. Not a soul onboard aside from me was going to touch the honey, because apparently they didn’t grow up on planets where “insect spit and nectar” was a popular food item. Their loss.

Lunch passed without incident, and so did the time until we arrived at the super-secret rendezvous point. Everybody who didn’t have something more important to do loitered in the hallway outside the cockpit, hoping for clues. Apparently this patch of space was empty as we approached, which ruled out a couple theories.

Paint clicked her claws together nervously. “Are we sure we’re not bait for something? I know he signed the forms…”

Wio called from the pilot’s seat, “There is absolutely nothing on the scanners, and I’ve got them set to max. Short of another space worm adventure, nothing’s going to sneak up on us.”

Kavlae made a considering sound. “That would be some interesting science.”

I had to laugh. “Interesting is one word for it!” The time we’d seen a new wormhole being created — courtesy of the space worms being chased by something larger and worse — there had been far more panic than scientific curiosity. “I’m pretty sure no one’s figured out how to track space worms, much less predict where they’re going to be with this kind of accuracy.”

“Has the timing started yet?” Zhee asked.

Captain Sunlight said over her shoulder, “We’re here early. I wanted to give us time to take our position with absolute certainty.”

There was some grumbling (mostly from Zhee), and we settled in to wait.

Finally Captain Sunlight announced the beginning of the timer, and we waited some more. Not a thing stirred. Wio kept a constant eye on all the scanners and sensors, while the rest of us watched the screens as best we could without crowding in there and getting in the way. Nothing happened.

“And we’re done,” said the captain. “Anticlimactic is better than crisis. Wio, take us in to the station.”

Wio did, aiming for the nearest wormhole and making the trip with more disappointing uneventfulness.

Thankfully for everyone’s curiosity, the client was within hailing distance when we exited into the space station’s territory.

Mur whispered, “I thought he was based on a planet?” while the captain set up the call.

Zhe clicked a pincher quietly. “Either he left it, or he’s a liar.”

Paint shushed him as the client appeared on screen. He really was a human: about college age, naturally tan skin, artificially blonde hair. A fashion sense that I would tactfully describe as “rich person nonsense.” So much metallic embroidery; sheesh.

He was polite enough, and all I was getting from his body language was that he was anxious about whether we’d done the weird job correctly. It was probably a good thing the camera didn’t reach into the hallway where all of us were staring at him.

Captain Sunlight went over the details calmly, and convinced the guy that we’d fulfilled our end of the bargain. He authorized the money transfer and looked relieved, muscles relaxing visibly.

I was pretty sure these weren’t the mannerisms of someone setting up a marriage proposal. He’d still be nervous about that. What was it?

On behalf of all of us, Captain Sunlight asked again. “What sort of sensitive nature is this task we’ve just done for you? I hope we won’t face repercussions down the line for obstructing some lawmaker’s telescopic view of a crime, or playing unwitting decoy.”

Apparently the good captain had also been thinking up possible scenarios. Those hadn’t even occurred to me.

“No, no, nothing like that,” he said, waving both hands. “Well, almost— No, it’s nothing like that.”

“No?” asked Captain Sunlight with a lift of her chin. “Which one is almost? Might we be a suspect in some criminal case now?”

“No, no!” He was getting really flustered now. “It’s the telescope one.”

“So a lawmaker was watching us sitting there suspiciously?”

“No!” He threw his hands in the air. “I tripped on the steps, all right? In public, boarding my ship, I fell all the way down the stairs and it was terrible. I had to bribe everybody who was there in person to keep it to themselves, but I’m going to go visit someone and—” He bit off the rest of the sentence. “That someone likes to borrow their planet’s largest telescope to watch me leave when I do. Your ship blocked the view. Thanks to wormholes and my top-notch computing formula, I was able to arrange it all before the light traveled that many light years away from home.” He ran his fingers through his hair, messing up completely. “Now please, don’t tell anybody!”

Captain Sunlight assured him that she wouldn’t spread it around, and bid him a regal goodbye. The screen clicked off.

The snickering in the hallway turned into full-blown laughter.

Trrili stalked up to join us, with Coals walking just outside of accidental pincher-poke range. “What was it?” she demanded. “Was the client an imbecile?”

“Yes,” Zhee told her. “But not in a way we expected.”

Paint was still laughing. “He didn’t want somebody to see that he fell down the stairs!”

Mur filled her in on the other details, but Trrili’s antennae angled into a frown. “Why go to all that trouble? Why not simply threaten witnesses and be done with it?”

“I suspect,” I said, “That the person watching was someone he has a crush on. He doesn’t want them to think badly of him.”

Trrili looked at Zhee. “Human mating rituals?”

“Looks that way.”

Trrili turned her faceted glare towards me. “Why do your people make things so complicated?”

I laughed. “Hey, this was overkill as far as I’m concerned too! If the person you want to date can’t handle a little pratfall like that, then they’re clearly not a good choice.”

Trrili was quiet for a moment, then said, “Two legs. Right. This must come up often for you.”

“It really doesn’t!”

She shook her head and turned away.

Paint spoke up helpfully: “You should hear about the mating proposals that they write in the sky!”

“Very no thank you.”

As Trrili walked away and the rest of the crew found other things to do, Paint told me, “I do want to hear about those. How do they write them? Does the answer go in the sky too?”

“Not for the proposals I’ve seen,” I said. “But there’s always a first.”

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #eiad #science fiction #short stories #writeblr #writblr

118 notes · View notes

randomshyperson · 1 year

Text

Shadow Preachers - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: In a reality where the blipped ones were the ones who stayed, Wanda loses you for five years. The reunion doesn't go exactly as planned, because now she is more than your girlfriend: she is the Scarlet Witch. And nothing will take away what she lost once.

Warnings: (+18), mild angst regarding the whole blip thing, alcohol consumption, language, established relationship, a lot of trauma buried, milf wanda controlling things, age gap, unintentional magical manipulation, darkhold drama, kissing and making out, a bunch of smut at the end with power plays, magical insemination (mild breeding kink?), some fluff, happy(ish) ending. | Words: 7.415k.

A/N-> Old idea that took a while to write, but here we are. This is not angst, I promise! But there are moments of dubious morals, and that's all the fault of the darkhold and how much Wanda should have gone to therapy and not a witchcraft house. Anyway, happy reading. I hope you were as reflective of the ending as I was (I don't know how to feel about this one so far). Please don’t flag the work, thank you.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

–//–

It wasn't necessary, given the nature of her abilities, but the warm water was very welcome to relax her muscles, so Wanda dipped her face for a long moment. Back at the surface, she took a deep breath with her eyes still closed. She pushed away all the flashes of the battle that tried to fill her mind and breathed again and again until the panic and anxiety had completely dissipated and she could open her eyes to her own reflection.

The red of her hair was fading - There was no need, since the revocation of the Sokovia Accords, to keep up the appearance of a disguise. But even years later, Wanda still held the red color in her strands. She remembers someone teasing her about it, maybe Sam or Clint, but she could not have it removed. Yelena was probably the only one who understood why.

The water dried from her face like blood dried from her superficial bruises. The magic worked on her automatically, but if she wished, she could have held the cuts for a while longer. If she wished someone to clean her wounds. She missed that today for the first time in a long while.

The bathroom gave way to her old room as she stepped outside, toward the closet. She knew that the rest of the team was spread all around the building - she could feel their auras meters away now - but she wished she had her bags packed before any of these had the idea to look for her.

The few clothes that belonged to her had been there for a few weeks. Just the time the others were preparing for the back-in-time trip: And it was honestly a miracle that this compound was still standing after the intensity of the conflicts. It was good luck that someone like her was present to tidy up the mess in the blink of an eye.

She had already folded a red jeans jacket when a knock at the door attracted her attention - She wasn't startled, because she had sensed your presence from the elevator. Every second closer.

When she looked up at you, you had your arms crossed and your waist resting on the doorframe. So casual and painfully charming that Wanda had to look away.

"Am I that awful at reunions?" You joked with a slight dramatization in your voice. Wanda's smile was small, but her heart was racing so fast that perhaps super-hearing allowed you to hear even from that distance.

"I'm sorry." That's the only thing she can manage to answer about the punchline. Maybe, and most likely, that's not even what she's apologizing for. "I just... no longer part of this place."

"Yeah, I heard." You mutter, moving away from the door, more serious than before. No, sadder than before. With each step toward her, Wanda squeezes her clothes tighter. "Sammy mentioned what happened."

Wanda's heart clenches. She tries not to frown, or demonstrate her own total nervousness when you are face to face. "What... did he say? About what I did?" she inquires, worried.

You look at her with curiosity only, shrugging casually. "He was vague on some kind of fight about three years ago. He said that you've made mistakes and that you've regretted them, and have been trying to be better. And that if I wanted to know more, I should ask you."

Wanda sighs, holding a folded shirt against her chest. Her gaze goes vacant, pensive. She imagines herself telling you, and as if the story didn't make her queasy enough, she still imagines the disappointment in your eyes.

In the present, however, she finds only tenderness in them. You give her a corner smile, half curious to know what has made her quiet, but Wanda clears her throat and puts her clothes away before turning her face to you again. "I can't, Y/N." She says, and the walls between you that she raises are almost physical. "I don't want to talk about the past. Especially not today."

You nod in understanding, a little frustrated by the whole thing but respectful about her own time and space. It's always been that way. It makes Wanda feel even more guilty.

"Can I at least give you a ride?" You suggest suddenly, your smile becoming more playful. Wanda clenches her hands together and remembers feeling this same smile against her cheeks, stomach, and thighs. "You know, to whatever place you're running off to, witchy..."

Your joke is not well received; It is not your fault at all. Wanda has been completely tense and on the defensive since you - and half the universe - reappeared.

"I'm not running away." She assures you as she cuts you off, her face serious and tired. You stop smiling. Wanda thinks she might throw up. "I just have a different life now."

She turns to close her bag, you fidget awkwardly. "Yeah, of course..." You murmur shyly, watching her. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's fine." She assures you, and it sounds like a really bad lie. You look at her the same way you did when you first saw her, almost eight years ago, in a Hydra cell, and Wanda runs away like a frightened animal, holding her bag in her hands even though she is very used to using magic to do this kind of mundane activity now. She is at the door in record time but looks at you before she leaves. "Thank you, Y/N. For offering... the ride. Really. But I don't... actually need it."

She twirls her fingers, illustrating her sentence with scarlet sparks that make you chuckle slightly. The sound almost makes Wanda start to cry. She makes a portal appear before she really starts to in front of you.

"Wait." You practically beg before she can disappear. Wanda holds her breath. "When... Wanda, I want to..." It's frustrating, honestly. The whole situation, all the distance you're not used to having with her. Your attempt to ask her for something only makes Wanda more anxious, but in a way, she knows exactly what it is. You take a deep breath and take another small step forward. "I want you around, Wands. You know that right?"

She swallows dryly and nods. Her eyes are filled with tears.

"I know, detka." The nickname escapes her so naturally, it seems as if no time has passed. But knowing it has passed, like not finding age marks on your face, but on hers, makes her pull away. "I just need...a little more time. To get used to it, okay?"

You nod like a child, putting your hands in your pockets. "Of course, Wanda. Whatever you need."

The memories of the same speech, so many times and for so long before the blip, hit her hard. She breaks into a sob, profoundly. You despair, completely worried, but as soon as you make any mention of approaching to console her, Wanda shakes her head and wipes her face. A weak, hoarse goodbye is murmured, and she disappears into the portal she has opened and you are left alone.

Your chest aches with hurt and frustration on the way back to the living room. Of course, the cell phone in your pants wouldn't work after so long without paying for the service, so you don't even attempt a message.

And getting the rest of what was once the Avengers you knew together doesn't make you feel any better seeing them in black, whispering stories to each other.

The memorial was a while ago, earlier, and now everyone was back in the tower. Some would go home, like Wanda or Barnes, but others like you had nowhere to go. Like Parker or Belova.

"Hey, Y/N." Natasha seemed surprised to see you there, assuming that your momentary disappearance would have resulted in the ride. But Wanda turned you down, and with the look, you threw her, Nat understood. She murmured polite apologies to Clint's family, all of whom were downcast and with faces smeared with dried tears, and went to join you near the kitchen counter. "You haven't had much luck with your witch, I suppose."

You hum annoyed, bending down to grab a bottle of booze from under the sink. Nat makes a soft grimace, nodding at the number of children present there. You ignore it and grab a glass for her as well.

When they are full, you raise yours. "Here's to our fallen friends, Romanoff." You say, and she sighs sadly, before raising her toast.

The drink doesn't hurt more than losing Wanda, that's a fact.

"You look miserable." It is Yelena who says, as she appears in the kitchen, a second after the toast draws a grimace and a cough from you. She steals a glance at her sister, "Both of you, actually."

Your laugh is sad and husky. "You are very perceptive of the obvious Belova." You mock, filling your glass as Nat lets herself be enveloped in a tight hug from the blonde. You take another sip as they part. What they ask each other in Russian is probably a check on how everything was going. You are more interested in the drink. And with each drop of alcohol, your emotions surface further. "Was it something I said?" You question suddenly, and Nat and Yelena look at you immediately. "Was it... something I did?"

Nat sighs, taking the bottle and glass from you. "Okay, enough of that." She mutters, ignoring your protests. "I know you're not the type who wants to cause a scene at your friends' funeral memorial."

But you're crying regardless. No one really minds - Or comments about Yelena and Nat dragging you into the corridor.

You sit on the floor, one hand on your face and the other on your stomach. "Why... Doesn't she love me anymore?" You ask between sobs, trying to control your emotion.

Yelena sighs impatiently. "God, are you stupid by any chance?"

"Yelena!" Nat represses, bending down to touch your knee and calm you down. "Hey, take a deep breath. It's okay, Y/N. Wanda... she just needs time-"

You give a wry, tearful laugh. "Five years wasn't enough?" You ironize between tears.

"Come on..." Nat tries, but Yelena cringes too. Her look is more serious and determined than compressive.

"You don't know shit, Y/N." Says the blonde, ignoring the way her sister looks at her. "How do you think it's been these five years, huh? You, both of you, vanishing along with half the universe. It's been fucked up, okay? And some people made some really bad mistakes during this time. I... I missed Nat, a fucking lot. But I didn't have the magic to change that. Wanda did."

You make a confused face, "What the hell are you talking about?"

She sighs wearily. "You just need to understand that it was hell for those who stayed. You probably will when you get back to work, but right now... You just buried your friends, rest first. And Wanda, you have to understand that she needs time to accept that you are back. She... she's had to say goodbye to you too many times."

Yelena exchanges a look with Nat, clearly closing the subject, but you despair. "L-lena, wait... tell me! Tell me what happened-" You follow her as she gets up and walks away, begging and demanding until she grunts in irritation.

"She brought you back!" She declares suddenly. You and Nat both widen your eyes. Yelena sighs. "Damn... Look, I really think Wanda is the one who should-"

"How?" you demand exhausted. The blonde swallows dryly, but ends up sighing in defeat.

"I think Cap still keeps the Westview files." She mutters, nodding in the direction to be escorted. Nat mutters something about it still being weird to hear someone refer to Sam this way, but you're more interested in what the hell Westview is.

Nothing prepares you for the S.W.O.R.D. tapes.

–//–

Everything kept coming back in flashes, even as she struggled to keep the memories at bay.

Shuri's gauntlet, the stones, Clint's body.

You.

So happy. So innocent. Smiling at her as if it was still 2018 and you were still hers.

"I can't believe you disappeared on me in the middle of a fight, little witch."

Your voice made Wanda shudder from head to toe, and she would have started crying right there, running away from the battle just to hug you if it wasn't such an ugly fight.

Unlike the first time, they were much better prepared. They had the upper hand.

Mildly Thor was not as experienced in battle, but just as strong as the original, and held the ground until Thor showed up with the rest of the blipped. Thanos's head was off before he could even think of the stones once more.

By the time you found her again, you had been told how many years had passed, and of course, you didn't waste another second before hugging Wanda. She hugged you back of course, without hesitation. But that was weeks ago in the heat of battle. Now reality was on your heads.

As a coven of unsympathetic witches, a team in conflict and a world in recovery.

Wanda had only been with the Chaos worshipers a short time. Just long enough to dull the effects of the darkhold in her head, the help is very welcome although her trust in Agatha is almost nil.

Helping the Avengers one last time, at the request of Strange and his irresponsible plan involving time travel was a long shot. But it worked. And Wanda had you back, and suddenly there was nothing left for the doomed to offer her.

Well, almost nothing.

Dreams involving her children haunted her at night. But well, since you've been back, Wanda hasn't done sleeping that much, so there's some advantage there.

She is trying a sleep potion when Agatha enters her chamber.

"You have visitors, Rapunzel."

She giggles at the nickname, not taking her eyes off her colleague's borrowed grimoire. "Don't call me that."

Agatha smiles, leaning on the door. "Well, you stay locked in the tower all the time and you have long hair... Also, you act like a spoiled little princess..."

"Fuck off, Agatha." Wanda retorts with a laugh, wiping her herb-soiled hands on a cloth. "Who's down there? Some sorcerer?"

The Harkness Residence was tricky - Especially in solstice season. With so much magical presence, Wanda would be overwhelmed to be in alert mode all the time. And for a house full of witches, she didn't expect to be able to detect them all the time.

Agatha shook her head. "Your other type of friends, honey." Said the older one. "Avenger. And pretty face." Comments the brunette, giving her a wink and leaving.

Wanda tries not to look like a complete mess as she makes her way downstairs. It doesn't work much when she finds you in the living room - Adorably poking at Agatha's magic clock.

"Hi." She practically gasps, her hands in front of her body. You turn your face and smile contently, waving your finger at the wooden item in front of you.

"Hey, sweetheart, have you seen this? It looks like the one from Harry Potter." It is so painfully casual that it almost leaves her speechless. Wanda has to remember that despite her early escape from the tower for some space, you still feel as if only a few weeks have passed since you last met. And not five years. "It's so cool."

Wanda adjusts her messy strands of hair, moving closer to you and the clock. "How did you find me?"

You shrug, taking your attention away from the item entirely to turn to Wanda. "Avengers technology now has Kamar Taj tricks."

Stephen, of course. Wanda grimaces softly, making a mental note to reprimand him for charming equipment but all thoughts suddenly disappear.

You grab the front of her work apron, pulling her close and Wanda chokes on her own breath.

"Wands, I know it's been five years for you, but... I really miss kissing my girlfriend." You murmur, the narrowed eyes staring at her lips and making her face warm. Wanda has missed this so much that it aches, but she is overwhelmed by the sudden action. You don't move until you have permission. "I'll be happy with just a peck..."

"God, detka." She tries to formulate some sentences, and some thoughts, but all her body can focus on is your presence. Your face inches from hers, the smell of your perfume, your hand on her low back, and the firm grip that ensures she doesn't fall over because of her weak knees.

Your forehead falls heavily on hers, and Wanda chokes out a very primal sound in her throat. She is ready to end all the longing against that colorful clock, on the living room rug or anywhere you want, when a voice interrupts the whole thing.

"Hello, love birds!" Agatha greets you cheerfully, smiling as you turn away from Wanda with a sigh. "I don't believe we've met, Miss..."

“Oh, you’re Agnes.” You say, and Wanda freezes. The older witch laughs in surprise, and you shake the hand she extends with a clumsy smile. "I mean if that is really your name? It was the only one on the recordings."

"Actually, I'm Agatha Harkness. Did you say record?-"

"Later." Wanda cuts off the older witch with a serious red-eyed look, and she begrudgingly swallows dryly all her questioning. Wanda turns to you, grabbing your hand before you have a chance to question what is going on.

Wanda's room impresses you. In fact, the entire Harkness residence does. It is clearly magical, much larger on the inside than the American house on the outside. You want to absorb every detail on a future tour, but right now, you're more interested in the witch dragging you inside and sitting you on her bed.

"Who told you?" she inquires in such a confused mixture of emotions that you can only assume they are not very good, by the tears in her eyes. Her door closes as soon as you enter, and you clear your throat awkwardly.

"It doesn't matter, Wands, I just know."

She grunts angrily. "I'm going to kill Yelena-"

You giggle. "Hey, don't read my mind." You grumble, watching her circle the room anxiously. "Little witch, relax, I'm not mad at you."

Wanda looks at you immediately. "I didn't expect anger." She clarifies with upset. "I thought...you'd be disappointed in me."

She looks down at her own feet, and you raise an eyebrow in disbelief. "Disappointed by the greatest demonstration of your power and how strong you've become? Don't be silly."

"I hurt people!" She retorts with emotion in her voice, annoyed that you are not acting as she has punished herself for so long. You sigh, adjusting yourself on the bed to remove the leather jacket that Wanda was pretty sure belonged to Natasha.

"And people have hurt you." You argued. "Same old story, no? But you have...this strength in you, right? You lose control, that's part of the magic. No power comes for free. I know these things, Wands, remember? I know you. And I saw how you let them go the very second it happened. And that Rambeau woman filled the archives with notes in your defense about everything that happened, so I don't know why the whole big deal is..."

"I took a town hostage." She interrupts you seriously. "Those people...compared standing over my domain as agonizing torture...begged to die after seeing my dreams-"

"Yeah, insomnia sucks." You complete, shrugging and Wanda grunts in frustration. She looks away, putting her hands over her face and you lie on the bed, crossing your hands behind your neck. She sighs.

"Why... are you different?"

Her question fails to shake you as her other statements. You remain quiet and carefree. "Maybe you are the one who remembers me differently."

Wanda stares at you, but is thoughtful. She tries to organize her own memories. Before, during, and after Westview.

Only now, seeing you in her bed again, does she doubt what her mind created and what was real really.

"I remember you... kind." She tries, shadows passing through her eyes, moments in the compound from cooking together to transmitting confidence and support to her in practice. "Taking care of me and everyone else, honestly."

You chuckle, cheeks rosy. "Well, thank you, that's a very nice view of the facts." You murmur, looking at her in a way that always made her knees weak. "But I'm just normal, I guess? I work hard and generally act within the law, briefly speaking. But kind? It's nice to be called that."

"Detka-"

"There's the catch." You interrupt her with a smile, your gaze gleaming with mischief. "That's what I am, Wands. Your Detka. Ever since I blew up half a Hydra to save you, that's what I've been. I appreciate that you see me as someone good, really. And maybe that's true because all I've done is be good to you."

Wanda swallows dryly, approaching you almost by a magnetic force. She takes the seat in your lap without haste, and her hair makes a curtain over your faces as she rests her forehead on yours.

"I'm sorry, dorogoya." She whispers with her eyes closed, her hands gripping your blouse. You adjust to hold her waist. "I hurt people to have you back."

You hum, moving a hand to her face. "Like I did, baby. Don't you remember?" You ask in the same tone, caressing her cheek. "Killed those Nazis back in 2015... then the agents who tried to lock you up for not signing the Accords..."

"It was different-"

"I would have done the same." You assure as you firm your grip on her cheek. Wanda moans low, unable to control herself at the roughness. Your eyes darken. "I think they're lucky I was the one who blipped, honey. I would have burned this world and any other to get you back."

There is nothing she can do but kiss you. It's firm, full of longing. She gasps into your mouth and you slide your tongue between her lips, taking control and matching it with the same passion. Wanda burns and the thrill of having you back hit her hard.

She is crying, so you stop and hold her as she hides her face in your clavicle.

"I thought...I lost you...I'm so sorry..." She mumbles disconnectedly between sobs, and you don't let go, stroking her back as you try to calm her.

"You're not getting rid of me, Maximoff." You tease. "You're going to marry me as you promised. For real this time."

The comment elicits a whiny laugh from her, and you chuckle when she pinches you in a warning for mentioning Westview so lightly. But there is no other way for you.

"Besides this, darling, you put me in a dress?" You comment with false indignation. "The greatest of crimes, really."

She chuckles weakly against your neck, adjusting herself to sit on your stomach and look you in the eyes.

You look at her with such love, wiping her face with your gentle hands, and Wanda thinks you're right. You are good to her. You always have been.

"It wasn't really you." She tries to say with a slight frown. "It was...like a whisper. A ghost."

You hum in a mix of understanding and curiosity. "It was because of the stone, wasn't it?" You deduce. "My powers... created the connection-"

"No." She shakes her head, her hands going to adjust the collar of your blouse. "My love for you created the connection. Your version of Westview was just... so nice. All those good things you did for me. How much I loved you. My magic created this... clone. It was a reflection of everything I loved about you, but it wasn't you. Maybe... that's why I was able to say goodbye."

You twitch your nose, a small smile on your lips. "Nothing compares to the real thing, huh?" you comment smugly, stifling the other's indignant snort with a firm kiss. Wanda chuckles affectedly, ready to debate that Westview's version was good enough when you spin your bodies on the bed at once, and upon being pressed into the mattress, all that comes out of her mouth is a moan. You hum in satisfaction. "I missed that sound."

She breathes affectedly, her eyes opening to meet yours staring at her passionately. "And I missed you." She murmurs, her hands finding your hair to pull you back.

Making out sessions were so common in your relationship, especially during Avengers that it was only now that it had been five years since the last time, that Wanda realized how much she missed it. Back then, it was usually enough to calm her hormones, but Wanda had never felt so needy as she did now.

You chuckled huskily against her neck, interrupting the soft marking of hickeys when you felt her rubbing herself on your thigh. "Got all turned on by a few kisses, Maximoff? Someone really missed me..."

She wants to rip off that smug little smile, even though that is absolutely true. "God, I had forgotten what a pain in the ass you are." She complains, trying to normalize her breathing, which is difficult with you on top of her, making her hot and bothered, tingly all over.

"Please, you love me." You tease, and Wanda smiles, enjoying the feeling of having you lying on top of her again, your face on her collarbone depositing more chaste kisses now.

"You have no idea how much, detka" She whispers as she closes her eyes, one hand stroking your hair. You smile against her skin. Wanda thinks you murmured I love you back before falling asleep, exhausted by the journey there.

Holding you, Wanda knows. She can never lose you again.

–//–

You dream of a teenage girl. Scared and fearful, running, or perhaps, escaping from something.

It is fast and intense, and when you wake up, you jump softly. You don't remember the dream when you look around, and are more concerned about the empty bed than nightmares.

The room is dark, the only illumination coming from the moon through the window and a candle burning in the corner of the table.

Unlike the commode, the rest of the house is noisy and you can hear a mix of voices downstairs, muffled by the closed door.

"Wanda?" You call out to her a few times until you realize that wherever she is, she can't hear you.

On your way out of the room, you bump into Agatha again.

"You are a heavy sleeper, Avenger." Comments the witch teasingly, as you scratch your eyes.

"Yeah, I guess so." You mutter. "Where...?"

"In the tower, dear." She interrupts your question already assuming it would be about Wanda. "We have rules for some types of spells around here. Nothing that corrupts can be inside the house."

You make a confused face, "Corrupts? What are you talking about, Miss Harkness?"

But there are a couple of well-dressed people on the stairs and Agatha waves to them. "Oh, dear, I'm sorry, I have to go." Says the witch. "It's the night of the solstice, you know? We have rituals to be done. It would be... polite if Wanda would join us, but all she wants to do is consume that book. It's like an addiction if you ask me." You open your mouth to question further on this subject, but Agatha is walking away, talking to the other strangers in a language you don't know. You think you will have to find this tower on your own, but she turns around before she goes down the stairs and tells you the way.

You are spinning your ankles almost immediately.

The room where Wanda is is lit entirely by candles, spread out in a circle. The air inside is unnaturally cold and shivers you from head to toe.

For a brief, scary second, you can almost hear the glow of the mind stone from the day you received your powers. Trapped on a Hydra stretcher like an animal.

"Wanda?"

The woman, so far trapped in some kind of ritualistic trance in the circle of candles she is in, opens unfocused red eyes. You see a glimpse of the book behind her before Wanda straightens up and with a nod, blows out the candles and lights the candelabras.

"Hey, detka, you're awake." You chuckled at how guilty she looked, hiding the book with her body and erasing the scary circle of spells.

"What are you up to, eh, little witch?" You ask, readily accepting her invitation to slip your hands around her waist. Wanda has a different gleam in her eye - now green again - and in the atmosphere of this room, she seems like a force of nature. You could say you are charmed by her if you didn't already love her so deeply.

She bites back a smile, interlacing her hands behind your neck.

"Only mischief, I'm afraid.'" She murmurs, close enough to tease your lips with the tip of her tongue. You choke softly, your hands moving down to her ass, squeezing it to press her against you.

"Hmm, I missed you being naughty..." You sigh when she kisses you. It's different. You can't put your heart on what - You can't think of anything with Wanda kissing you with such vehemence and sensuality; You're more used to her submission, always in love with the feeling of having her ruined beneath you. But the way she kisses you now - as if she knows exactly how secure she is in your heart, body, and soul - is breathtaking. She puts you at her mercy by sucking on your tongue.

"F-fuck." You break the kiss with a gasping sigh, every inch of your body burning. A stream of saliva connects your mouth to hers, and Wanda stares at you with dark pupils. "You're playing a dangerous game, Maximoff-"

Your attempt to gain a little dominance turns into an affected grunt when Wanda grabs your face at once. Much like the way you did hours ago. And you are too distracted by her eyes that flutter between green and red to notice the darkness of her fingers.

"Knee for me, darling." She orders in a husky voice, bringing a wave of heat to your abdomen. You moan, and your knees would have given out on their own - But Wanda uses her magic anyway. On the floor, you look up with pleading eyes, watching her magic tear off her clothes.

You can feel your own arousal oozing down your thighs, but don't you dare seek any kind of relief from yourself with Wanda inches from your mouth. The last garment is barely out and you dive in - Proudly tearing out a loud moan as your mouth meets her core.

Her cunt drips and clenches on your tongue and fingers you slide them up her thigh until you sink in, but Wanda barely feels you and is already putting one leg over your shoulder, whimpering as you work to bring her orgasm.

It comes intense and very quickly, and you both know it's because of the time apart. Her body has been begging for your touch for so long that she almost hates how fast it happened. You shush her worries and complaints of the overstimulation, making no mention of letting her go. Instead, one of your hands digs its nails into her thigh, holding her open and against your mouth as you eat her out until she can give you another. And another.

It's the roughest sex you two ever had - Full of longing and passion - and Wanda doesn't know when she got on the floor, maybe it happened after the third or fourth climax when her legs were too weak to keep her upright, and she's not complaining one bit.

You fucked her intensely and desperate to please - She loved how much control she had without needing a drop of magic. And when you didn't question the hardness between your legs put there by her, she wanted to test how far your obedience would go.

"That's new." You murmured in a husky voice against her ear, your hands pinning hers to the floor of the ancient meditation circle. Wanda couldn't deliver more than a groan - The toy buried deep in her abused pussy was making everything more difficult. Your strokes, slow and deep did not fail to draw breathless moans from the witch beneath you. "Is this what you wanted, baby? For me to fill you to the brim?"

Wanda whimpered aroused, her walls clenching the fake cock until you couldn't move and she came with her back arched and her eyes scarlet - You gasped in satisfaction at the image, surrendering to your own pleasure next. Pumping in and out inside, it wasn't long before you came, grunting against her neck as you spilled inside her walls, staining them white. Wanda moaned at the sensation, her legs hooked around you so that you would go nowhere, that no drop would go to waste.

You had no idea why, but you were too high in pleasure to ask or even think about it.

Breathing out of rhythm as you calmed down, you deposited chaste kisses on her collarbone until you reached her face - Matching the smile Wanda had as you kissed her.

"I love you, little witch." You declared somewhat breathlessly, and repeated it a few times until Wanda giggled away, all the exhaustion from being fucked over and over leaving her feeling a little dizzy and with an easy smile. It took you less than thirty seconds to slide out and get rid of the toy in some corner of the room, but Wanda followed you with her gaze the whole time until you were back on top of her. "How about ... we ... take ... a ... shower... together?" Every word was filled with a kiss, and Wanda almost didn't let you stop doing it.

"That sounds lovely." She said, and seeing that you were getting ready to stand up, she held you back. It didn't take long for your expression of confusion to turn into one of complete amazement.

It took Wanda, not a second for the room around you to transform - You thought it was teleportation at first but realized that the shape of the bathroom you were in now was the same as the tower, and understood that it was chaos magic. No longer were you lying on the floor, but inside a tub, slowly filling in as you got used to the environment. Wanda adjusted herself to sit up, and you held the edges to look around, an impressed giggle escaping your lips.

"Damn, babe, that's fucking cool." You praise the magic, blushing as you meet Wanda's passionate gaze on you once you turn your face to her. With a wink, you adjust to lie with your back on her chest, and Wanda slips her arms around you, sighing in satisfaction.

It is a very peaceful and comfortable moment. Just you and Wanda under the warm water, with her stroking your hair and almost making you fall asleep, and you have no idea of the evil whispers from a magic book that she is trying to push away as she does so.

"Sorry, Wands." Your speech confuses her; she blinks her eyes, focusing on your figure against her. You interlace the fingers of your hands and stare at the gesture as you clarify. "For leaving you alone."

Her chest tightens. She swallows dryly, once and twice, and you wait. All Wanda does is kiss the top of your head.

"What matters is that you are here now." She says meekly, letting you play with her fingers. "And nothing will ever take you away from me again."

The darkness of the sentence goes unnoticed by you. You are more curious about the coloration of her fingerprints.

"Is that some kind of spell?" You ask, and she merely hums in return, trying to buy time to formulate an answer. "It's not a bad thing, right? Nor painful?"

Your insistence. No. Your sincere concern, which she can read in every inch of your mind, makes her chest burn with guilt. She holds you tighter.

"It's nothing you have to worry about, darling." She assures you in a tone of closure, using her free hand to spread your legs under the water.

"B-but Wanda..." You start but are unable to ignore your own pleasure when Wanda slides her fingers into you with ease. The bite she places on your shoulder makes you whimper. Your hips move in rhythm with her fingers, but you gasp and pant, warning, "You can't just fuck me out of a conversation-ah-"

She giggles macabrely, feeling you throbbing in her digits. Your warm juices mix with the water in the tub.

"Oh, I think I can." She teases in your ear, increasing the speed. You grunt, begrudgingly focusing on your orgasm and not on whatever it is that Wanda is hiding. She presses her palm against your clit, sinking a third finger next and stretching you out. You grip the edges of the tub so hard that the wood cracks and the throaty moan that escapes you make all of Wanda's hair shiver. "Let it go for me, detka. Make your wife proud."

The title takes you over the edge - You come in an almost animalistic moan, spasming against her in one of the most intense orgasms you have ever had in your life. Wanda continues kissing your neck and slowly stimulating you throughout your climax until you try to pull away from the excessive stimulation.

There is a tender moment, Wanda whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you can catch your breath again. She slides her fingers out and sucks your taste off as you calm down. The scene is almost enough to get you ready again, but after so many times, you both need a break.

When you look at her again, your smile is teasing. "Wife, huh?"

She matches her expression, but there is gentle insecurity in her eyes that would surprise you if you didn't know her so well. "It slipped out. But... you should get used to it, detka. I'm going to marry you yet."

You chuckle shyly, adjusting yourself so that you can kiss her on the mouth. Wanda also smiles into the kiss. Between one kiss and another, you joked, "Did marriage make me a bottom?"

Wanda burst into a laugh, her arms around your waist as you adjusted to sit on her lap.

"Is that a complaint about my performance?"

You chuckled, arms around her neck. "Oh, sure, I hate coming so much." You mocked against her lips, staring in the same passionate, mischievous way she was looking at you. "I can't believe you made me... come inside you."

Wanda bites her lips, feeling your warmth in her lap and knowing that you can feel hers. "Did you like it?"

You nod, kissing her jaw. Wanda swallows dryly, controlling her own excitement to keep talking. "It's a spell I learned. And it works... like the real thing."

Your kisses stop as soon as you understand what she is saying, and your frown as you face her again doesn't calm the other one's nerves. She keeps her grip on your waist.

"Wait." Wanda can almost see the gears in your mind working. "How real?"

She swallows dryly and squeezes harder without realizing it. Terrified that you will reject her. "I want to have your children." She declares boldly, though her heart is hammering in her ribcage.

You are in shock at the whole thing. You open your mouth but all that comes out is an incredulous laugh, and with a gentle effort, you escape Wanda's hands, out of the tub. She licks her lips, trying to keep the tears in as you cover yourself with a robe as if suddenly, being naked is no longer comfortable.

"Please don't be mad." She murmurs, but you chuckle incredulously.

"You should have told me."

"I-"

"No, Wanda." You cut her off in a serious tone. Wanda is ready to be stubborn about it, but all certainty disappears when she sees your expression and the way that despite your super strength, you never looked so small as you do now. "I really love you, Wands. Nothing will ever change that. But children are a very important step. A conversation we haven't had yet." Wanda hesitates, in her gaze, and you sigh. "Westview was a fantasy, sweetheart. I'm not that ghost. I was gone for five years, I'm still only twenty-four years old. I wanted... this life of travel and dating and adventure with you. To mature by your side, and create a career, and then someday, if we were ready for it, have children."

Wanda sniffles lightly. "What if... you weren't?"

You give a sad smile. "Wanda, I'm not you." You mutter upset. "I didn't have incredible parents, nor did I lose them too young before I could grow up and notice if they had problems or not. Mine were terrible and damaged me for a long time. I am very afraid that I will be just like them."

Wanda immediately denies it with her head. "You are not! You are sweet and good and I will be an incredible parent!"

You give a short, humorless laugh, pushing your hair back. "I guess we'll find out soon enough." You ironize, and Wanda swallows dryly.

"You could at least be happy-"

"That you lied to me?" You interrupt indignantly.

She stares at you with the same irritation. "I didn't lie!"

"Omitting is a form of lying!" You retorted. "And apparently that's not the only thing! What are the marks on your hands, who are these people, where are we really? I have a million questions for you, and all you do is run away and hide things from me!"

Whenever Wanda gets emotional enough, her magic reflects it. You are used to it, but it is a little terrifying that the ground trembles over your feet when she stands up in anger. Her robe magically appears on her body, covering her as well.

"I'm doing everything for us!" She shouts back, holding onto your arms. "So we can have a family, a home! Making sure nothing takes that away from us again!"

"Wanda, you have to understand that I'm not the person who lost these things-"

"And you have to be content!" She refutes truthfully, scarlet eyes glowing with emotion. "Happy and understanding about what I'm doing for us!"

It happens in a second. All irritation, hurt, or fear, simply vanishes from your expression. Wanda doesn't even realize what her magic has done for the moment.

"I understand, my love." You say smiling at her as you did the first time she said she loved you. Wanda frowns, but you hold her cheeks tenderly. "I love you so much, darling. I'm so grateful that you're looking out for me, making sure nothing bad happens."

She chokes on the emotion softly, breaking under your gentle touch and tone of voice. "Really?"

You smile. "Nothing is going to keep us apart, Wanda. You'll make sure of that."

Wanda nods, sighing in relief at being understood in her own despair. You hug her by the shoulders and she sinks her face into your collarbone, murmuring how much she loves you into your skin.

"Don't be mad at me. I just wanted our children back." She pleads against you, hearing you sigh before pulling her face to face you. Your hands grip her cheeks.

"We'll get them back, honey." It's a promise, Wanda feels it. You smile mischievously at her, bringing your faces closer together. "And we can make as many more as you want."

She blushes, giggling shyly as she wraps her arms around your waist. "I can never lose you again, детка. I wouldn't... survive."

You look at her tenderly. "I'm here, baby. I will never leave you."

She kisses you, letting herself be enveloped by your warmth and love until the darkhold dominance that whispers that another step toward the happiness she lost has been completed becomes hazy and muffled in her mind.

--//--

A/F/N->This should have been a series, but I left it as one, and because of this ending, I'm not going to dismiss the possibility of other parts of this story. I like to think that once Reader figures out what's going on, she and Wanda would break up so we can have an angst-filled fresh start to the really happy ending they deserve (I'd finally get an exes trope story published, thank you!). I'd like to watch other Marvel projects, like Coven of Chaos, before continuing this though, to get more of the canon. Let me know what you think in the meantime.

Please don’t flag the work, thank you.

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

613 notes · View notes

via-l0ve · 10 months

Note

What kind of dates do you think those Supernatural boys like? c:

Dates with the SPN boys 🫶🏻

a/n: this is such a cute idea. i love them all so much. i made moodboards for this!! xx

warnings: swearing, im inexperienced when it comes to moodboards so apologies if they’re shit lol

Dean Winchester:

i think that Dean is a very simple man!! for a first date i think he’d take you to a bar or a little diner and get to know you, just chatting and eating and having a good time. He pays and you guys take a little walk down to a pier or something and you guys just sit and talk even more. After knowing you/dating for a while, i think he would do more casual dates. Cuddles in the motel room with takeout, watching the stars on the top of the impala, attempting to bake with you, just everything. he’s such a cutie. i love him.

Sam Winchester:

Sam totally takes you to his house/dorm (college days)/ motel (when dean isn’t there) for a first date. you guys play mario kart and order pizza and play card games. you’re shocked how good he is at poker. After knowing you for a while/dating he’d get more adventurous and take you to little museums or carnivals or restaurants. but sometimes the poor boy just wants to cuddle up to you and binge some tv.

Castiel:

Castiel 10000% blips you and him to a flower field and you guys just talk and he talks about heaven and how it is to be an angel. he compliments you all night. “your looks are some of gods best work.” AWWW. after knowing eachother for a while/dating he makes you show him all of your favorite human tv shows and movies and you guys just cuddle and watch them. i think he’ll take you to the mall and watch you do a fashion show for him and let you pick out his outfits aw BOARD GAMES TOO. GAME NIGHT DATES!!!

Crowley:

Crowley likes getting to know people. he likes to know their secrets and what makes them tick and stuff and i think he knows exactly how to unlock all of that. he would ask you all the best questions about yourself and butter you up. he takes you to a bar or a restaurant to start and then slowly moves to more casual little date nights. he takes you to see a movie and sits through it even though he notices all the cringe dialogue and plot holes. what a sweetheart !

#thank you sm for this request #love u mwah #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #castiel #castiel x reader #crowley #crowley x reader

268 notes · View notes

thyshadowwriter · 9 months

Text

Ivar & Hvitserk Poly relationship headcanons.

The hardest part of this arrangement is how it starts. While Hvitserk would be iffy, Ivar has a much harder time accepting it.

It depends greatly on the relationship between the brothers more than the s/o.

When they reach a good place, they are more open to the idea and may even be excited for it.

In a strange way, sharing their s/o may improve the relationship between the brothers.

Ivar and Hvitserk share a lot of similarities and by the time they ironed out their differences to enter a poly, they'll have even less reason to fight between themselves.

Being loved by both of them is a mixed blessing. On one side, they love with all their heart, on the other they are demanding and It can get draining very quick.

Their need for attention and reassurance Will leave their s/o with no time for themselves other than when they go for raids.

It's sometimes hard to figure out who is in need of more attention and what is the issue.

Jealousy. Plenty of it. They have different reasons to be jealous and go differently about it, but they do feel it and as different as they may be at first, they have little problems killing anyone that provokes them.

Don't get them wrong. They treat their s/o like a gift straight from the Gods, but those two are bloodthirsty. Anyone that blips on their radar as a threat is in for an awful end.

On the good side, happy times with them are great. They both want to be loved and love in return and they are more than happy to indulge their s/o.

#ivar x reader #hvitserk x reader #ivar x reader x hvitserk #vikings fanfiction #ivar headcanons #hvitserk headcanons #vikings headcanons

161 notes · View notes

shurisleftearring · 4 months

Text

Green Eyes

I am so scared posting this but here it is, my first part (maybe). Any grammar or plot suggestions are welcomed, but please be nice. Not sure if I wanna include smut in this story or not idk. Anyways, thanks for reading, and enjoy! :) (Also how the fuck do I work this damn app? I am so fucking confused it’s sad fr)

But I don’t love you anymore, I’m so insecure, never knew that love did this…

Word count: 1k+

Pairing: Shuri x Black!fem!reader

Summary: Five years. It’s been five years since the blip. And even longer since you’ve been in a relationship. Maybe it’s for the best. The last time you were in a relationship, it just ended in disarray. But, when your ex comes back into your life, can you start over and do it again? Or try to move on with an unexpected love?

______________________________________________________________

“Y/n c’mon, you are slow!”

You were always late. You can never make it to anything on time. That’s what you need to change. You somehow wake up 5 hours before and still end up 10-15 minutes late.

“I’m coming damn, hold up.”

“Girl, I need you to make this on time, the board offered us amazing positions at Stark Industries and WE.CANNOT.BE.LATE.”

At this point you were rushing to get your hair together, your makeup on, and your fit. You had a very boring style, but sometimes you surprised people.

“Is this okay?”

“Girl, it’s fine. Now c’monn”

“Ok ok damn”

______________________________________________________________

By the time you got there, you had one minute left. You used that minute to scope the place out. Can’t even lie, it was beautiful. All of those good-looking drinks, food, people. You were in awe.

“Damn, this place is nice!” You said.

“Girl, I know we're in the big money now!” Kaira said.

You and your close co-worker friend get guided to the huge table in the back. When you see the table everybody is already there. You look around and your heart drops to you stomach. It's her. At first, you had no idea who she was, she had changed so much. She dresses more masculine now, she has sides of her hair cut, and she has on grillz. You are wondering where the hell she knows about those. Back when y'all used to “date”, y'all were both young and didn’t know shit.

“Shit,” you whispered.

“What did you say, girl?” Kaira said.

“Oh nothing”

You were freaking out inside. Lost in your thoughts. Your memories of her. You were so lost in your own head that you didn’t notice that she he saw you too. She almost spat her drink out. She didn’t even recognize you.

“Damn, she's fine. Do you know her Shuri?” Peter said.

“...No,” Shuri said, looking away from your curvaceous body.

“Mm, well I’m going to go over there and introduce myself”

“Don’t you have Mj?”

“Well…she doesn’t remember me. Our love can wait”

Shuri rolled her eyes and they landed on you. She saw how beautiful you became. Your braces were gone and got a skincare routine. She saw how your body grew into its grown woman body. Your thighs, hips, and breasts were just too mesmerizing. She was shamelessly checking you out, not caring who saw. You were trying to look distracted when you accidentally locked eyes with Shuri. Her gaze suddenly made you weak in the knees. You didn’t even notice that you were about to run into a waiter. You ran into the waiter, the gaze broken. She started chuckling, not realizing how powerful her stare was. She guessed that’s how she got all those models so easily. You apologized to the waiter and walked to your seat, trying to get some dignity back.

“Girl, are you ok?” your co-worker friend asked.

“Yeah. I’m good Kaira”

“I swear you always trippin’ somewhere” she said laughing.

You laughed praying that no one saw that. You looked and saw that you were sitting in between Okoye and Kaira. Thank god you weren’t sitting next to her. But, across from her was even worse. Her staring just got more intense by the second. You tried to focus as Pepper Potts-Stark began.

“Well, now that we have everyone here, welcome. I hope we get a lot of things accomplished in these upcoming years, as you know the people are still-”

You were tryna listen, but you could feel her stare lingering on you. It makes your stomach churn and do somersaults.

“-Now, to focus on the positive things, I have decided to hire more people on the personal Avengers team. Welcome y/n and Kaira!”

You and Kaira stood up. Everyone clapped and said welcome. Kaira was eating up the attention thankfully.

“Well, if a pile of paperwork and deadlines to meet is a ‘ welcome’, then I’ll accept it,” Kaira said as people started chuckling.

“Ah, yes, as you can see, the team is very happy to see new people joining, but don’t let them bully you, okay?” Pepper said, winking.

“Oh, trust me I won’t,” You said.

“We’ll see about that sweetness,” Thor said.

You cringed at that. Men being men. The people at the table saw the discomfort on your face.

“Ok, enough guys. They’ve already experienced your ‘warm’ welcome” Shuri said.

“Not Shuri defending them. She must like one of them.” Peter said, drinking his drink.

Chuckles filled the room after he said that. He was honestly right but she was too prideful to accept it.

“Peter do not test me” She looked at Peter and he just drunk his drink and tried to hide his face.

“Ooo Shuri is going to mess him up”

“He's always talking he needs to shut up”

______________________________________________________________

A few hours later, everything was done. You and Kaira signed everything and promised to sign an NDA until your contract expires. Now people were just talking. You didn’t like being in boring places, but that was your life lately. Boring ass places.

“Girl, I am ready to go, I love networking, but damn it sure does make you tired.”

“Amen girl, I'm gonna crash at your place, is that okay?” You said

“Yeah, that’s fine. Also, I saw Her Majesty staring at you. Does she know you?”

You were trying not to show the sudden panic on your face.

“...Not Really…”

“Mhm, yeah ok.”

Kaira knew when you were lying. She knew you like the back of her hand. She always knew when you were sad, angry, happy, and when you were lying.

Y’all were leaving, laughing and chatting about how your first day would go. While walking, you notice a nice vintage 1964 Ferrari 250 GTO. Your mouth was wide open.

“Kaira look!” you said

Kaira looked and her mouth went wide open as well.

“Shit….that’s your dream car!” she squealed.

“I know! It’s so beautiful!”

“Excuse me”

You turned around and were moving out of the way when you saw it was Shuri. Her voice felt like butter, and you could smell her amazing vanilla perfume since she was close.

“Ooooo” Kaira mumbled.

Kaira was never any help. She was a proud instigator.

“Oh- Umm we're sorry, we-”

“It’s all good love, you were just admiring right?”

“Right”

Love. You haven't heard that word in a long time. She said so casually like you were still with her.

But you weren’t.

______________________________________________________________

6-7 years ago

“Sher please? You've known my friends for a while now. You said it yourself you trusted them!"

“Love, no. Besides I don’t like you hanging around Daniel anyways”

You groaned. “Shuri, we don’t like each other”

“You still like men"

You knelt down to her level. “But not that man. I don't like any men, just you” You pressed your lips on hers, her jealousy slowly drifting away. You loved moments like these. Her being putty in your hands.

“Ok fine. You can go. Only, you have to make sure that you call me every hour”

“Oh my God, you are so obsessive”

“It’s called keeping you safe”

“No one knows we're dating. I’ll be fine” You said, kissing her forehead.

“Mhm. Still, I want you to call me”

“Ok my love see you soon~” You went out the door and to one of your best friends arms for a hug.

"You ready to go girl?"

"Yes! I am so excited!"

"I'm surprised that Shuri even let you out"

"Haha, now hurry and let's get to this festival!" You squealed in excitement.

#letitia wright #shuri udaku #shuri x reader #lgbtq

65 notes · View notes

muddyorbsblr · 1 year

Text

i have never

See the full 14 Days Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: When you reveal to your co-stars that you've never had a positive experience kissing anyone, let alone a good experience doing more than kissing, Tom visits you in your hotel room to rectify that situation.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: steamy moments (this is 1 of the 2 non-smut stories from this collection); language; mention of bleeding

Things to be aware of: coworkers to lovers; reader isn't inexperienced but she's had horrendous experience

"Okay I might need help with this, I gotta be honest."

You showed the page that you placed a little pink post-it flag on to your female co-stars, Scarlett and Lizzie, the flag pointing to the part of the script that showed your character had to kiss Loki and a look of 'contentment and relief' had to be visible on your face.

"Wait why? You've had kissing scenes before," Lizzie prodded, looking at the surrounding dialogue of the kiss.

"Yeah, I know, but those kisses were meant to be awkward and I had to be visibly uncomfortable, which is great because that's all I know how to be when a guy kisses me." You grimaced as memories of sloppy, teeth-knocking, way too rough kisses gone wrong began to flash through your mind like a train wreck slideshow.

"Oh sweetie…if you're worried that it's gonna be bad because Tom's going to make it uncomfortable, you got nothing to worry about," Scarlett commented with a chuckle. "Man's never had a bad kiss scene in his life. Ask Lizzie."

"Mmhmm. Yup. Can confirm," the redhead said with a playful grin on her face.

"Well that's all well and good but I'm not worried about him giving me a bad kiss. I'm worried that I will." You slumped your shoulders as they gave you doubtful looks. "Alright then let me put it this way. All the kisses I've had off camera are…fucking awful. On camera I can look past because it's supposed to be awkward and dorky and maybe even so cringe I wouldn't wanna watch it even if you paid me. But the guys I've kissed in private? Let's just say that the least traumatizing kiss I've had ended with my lip bleeding because the fucker bit me too hard."

"Babes, that's absolutely awful!" Lizzie looked at you with her jaw to the floor. "Are you telling us that every guy you've slept with is—"

"Fucking awful? Yep. They didn't have any redeeming qualities. And before you even ask, yes, that means that I have fucking faked it. For years. No one's ever got me to the promised land." You slumped in your chair from the admission. "So that's why I need help. I haven't the first idea how to even look like I'm content because every experience I've ever had is…subpar."

The two promised to help you until you three were called to set, imparting knowledge about imagining a wave of calm overtaking you coupled with the contradicting feeling of a wild fluttering in your stomach. Actions-wise, to pull him closer, as if you couldn't possibly be close enough, clinging to him as if your life depended on it. And the desperation that implied this was a last kiss, because ultimately it would be for your characters, considering the tragic death the Russo brothers had in mind for Loki.

It'd also be the first and last kiss you'd have with the man you'd had a raging crush on since years before you were even a blip on Marvel's radar, so you took all their advice to heart just to make sure that at the very least you didn't leave a horrible impression with him once this scene was over.

After all, you still had all of promo period to get through and considering that the Marketing team had already found your old socials from high school and had concrete evidence that you absolutely had a phase where you shamelessly fangirled over Tom Hiddleston, they would most likely test your sanity and pair you off with him for some, if not most, of the press junkets.

That was the whole reason you were currently in one of the dining tents, your head slumped down on a table as you watched a whole bunch of kissing scenes on YouTube while you furiously jotted down notes on the back of your script. Your scenes were finished for the day, and all you had to do was wait for someone in the costume department to assist you out of your costume. You retrieved your phone from security, meaning you were no longer allowed on any of the filming sets considering how careful all the execs were about spoilers getting out.

"Elizabeth told me I'd likely find you here." You jumped in your seat at the dulcet tone of Tom's voice filling the former quiet of the tent, quickly straightening your posture and turning your phone off, putting the face down on top of your notes. "Apologies. I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, no, it's all good, really," you chuckled out, the nerves beginning to peek through in your shaky tone. It was borderline impossible keeping your composure around him considering that he'd been in a tight-fitting black muscle tee, the rest of him clad in his character's leather pants and boots, putting on egregious display what exactly Marvel had to edit out during post production of the first Thor movie. "What's up?" you squeaked out.

"Truly, nothing. I just wanted to tell you I look forward to filming with you tomorrow." He placed a hand on your shoulder, bared by the rather revealing nature of your Enchantress costume, his thumb gently stroking your skin. "I'll see you tomorrow, darling. I'll see if I can get someone to assist you with your costume."

Your heart caught in your throat as you watched his eyes give you a once over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, before leaving the tent.

Here lies Y/N Y/L/N. Cause of death? Sanity and ability to breathe were stolen by Thomas William Hiddleston.

Knock Knock Knock

You looked up from your position on the couch, your neck and back straining from being hunched over and taking notes as you watched compilation after compilation of the "best tv and movie kisses" on YouTube. Every bit of preparation you could do for tomorrow's scene short of trolling through Tinder or Raya, you would willingly do.

After all, if you looked stupid in your hotel room practicing how to kiss on your hand but no one else was around to see it, did you actually look stupid?

Yes. The answer was yes.

"I didn't order room service!" you called out in the direction of the door and sending the mistaken server on his way, turning back to face the TV and somehow transpose in your mind that the actors in the scene were you and Tom, trying to plan out how to move your body the way theirs moved, to not lean in too much so that your teeth didn't knock together, and to not even think about any lip biting considering your own dreadful history--

Knock Knock Knock

You groaned at the insistent mistaken case of room service and turned off the TV, flipping your notes over so that in case they were of the nosy variety nothing could leak. The last thing you needed throughout production was Holland and Ruffalo greeting you tomorrow morning with open arms and goofy grins saying "One of us! One of us!"

"I'm sure you're mistaken, buddy, I didn't order any--"

You opened the door and realized it wasn't room service on the other side. It was Tom, looking at you with a soft amusement in his eyes, the mortification spreading through your system at the knowledge that he was seeing you clad in a loose cotton ruffle sleepwear dress that went down the length of your arms and fell to your knees.

The farthest cry from the allure of Amora. And yet the best possible representation of yourself in real life.

"O-Oh uhh…hi," you stammered, constantly shifting your posture in your attempt to seem casual. "What's up?"

You felt even more chagrined when those eyes that haunted your every dream since you were a teenager that was every bit the awkward dork that you were at this moment once again gave you a once over. Only this time the smirk graduated to him biting his lip. What is his deal? Is he really just trying to make me spontaneously combust? Burn off the final shred of sanity that I'm holding on to? Did he choose me as his use case for a scientific study to prove that death by swooning was most definitively a thing?

"Y/N I heard you earlier today with Scarlett and Elizabeth." Someone call the cemetery and have them erect my tombstone. "I didn't intend to, but I'd been walking by the area and--"

"Ohh fuck," you groaned, pressing your hands to your eyes and spinning in your spot trying calm your racing mind. "Look I'm really sorry maybe we could talk to Anthony and Joe and we could have them write the scene out comp--"

Your words caught in your throat in a hitched squeak as you felt his hands wrap around yours, pulling them away from your face. "Look at me, please." You opened your eyes and became stunned silent when you saw a tenderness in his as he framed your face in his hands. "I'm not here to ask you to talk to anyone about getting the scene written out."

"Then why--"

He silenced you by pressing his lips to yours, all the words beginning to melt away. What little knowledge you'd gotten seemed trivial now, as he coaxed you to kiss him back, as the world around you seemed to fade and a strange quiet washed over you. As you felt your entire body come alive with every tender brush of his lips against yours.

So this was what they meant.

He pulled away from you, one arm wrapped securely around your waist to keep you close, and the other hand gently cradling the back of your head. "I came here because you are a woman who deserves to be kissed breathless. Often. By someone who knows how." He gave you a soft smile before slanting his mouth over yours, tongue gently brushing along the parting of your lips as if asking for entrance.

It was as if your whole body weakened once you parted your lips and felt his tongue gently flicking against yours. His arm tightened around you as he lifted you up seemingly effortlessly and pinned you to the wall, his lips never once leaving yours.

When Tom broke the kiss you were both gasping for breath, the air once again leaving your body the moment his lips latched on to your neck, his hands roaming down your body until they hooked around the backs of your knees to wrap your legs around him. You had to clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the resounding moan that escaped you the second his hips rolled into yours.

"No, darling," he groaned against your skin, one hand reaching up to wrap around yours and pry it away from your mouth. "I want to hear you." He moved away from your neck and brought his face inches from yours. "I also heard one more thing. A downright sacrilegious thing. About how you've had to fake your pleasure with everyone you've laid with."

He placed your hand on his shoulder, which you quickly hooked around his neck to hold yourself up as he lifted you away from the wall and walked further into the hotel room, making your mind spin with what he intended to do next. "So you heard that, too, huh?" was all you could say as you did your best to remember how to breathe.

"I did. And I wish to change that, too. If you'll let me."

You could only nod before his lips were back on yours again as he laid you down onto the bed.

A/N: I had to fade to black some of these stories if I wanted to meet deadlines, okay? 🤣

'everything' taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @devilsadvocactus @lokiprompts @sititran @ladyjames78 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @kats72 @creationsbyme @coldnique @athalialaufeyson @simplyholl @tallseaweed @sarahscribbles @unlucky-number-13 @ozymdias @maple-seed @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfsmom1 @km-ffluv @psychospore @loopsisloops @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovelysizzlingbluebird

#14 days of valentines collection #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston imagine #muddyorbs writes

276 notes · View notes

unhingedmarvelandclassicwhobuff · 9 months

Note

🤦‍♂️

No, they didn’t argue; Tony put his foot down and refused to help if they didn’t agree to keep the trillions of people who died as collateral damage in the Snap dead and not to undo the worst five years in the universe’s history.

And it was all pointless since he died 20 minutes after the Snap was undone anyway.

You could also argue every crisis that spawned from the Blip (Wanda losing her mind, the Flag Smashers, Ronin, etc) wouldn’t have happened either if they had undone it.

#tony stark #anti tony stark #anti endgame #the blip was an awful idea

27 notes · View notes

stevetonyweekly · 8 months

Text

SteveTony Weekly - September 10th

Hey, friends!! Short and dirty this week, I’m on a whirlwind trip to help my bestie paint her house so--enjoy and be sure to leave comments/kudos!

~*~

Ain't It A Shame, Too Bad? by Carsonian

On his twenty-fourth birthday, Tony was saved from drowning by a man he has yet to find. In other news, Tony's fallen hard for the mute, scrawny blond that washed up on his kingdom's shoreline two-and-a-half days ago. These two things can't possibly be related, can they?

A Gentle Lullaby by navaan

They, all of them, are mortal and sometimes their brushes with death bring them closer to it than other people ever get. Fighting is what they do. But fighting for other people's survival without a thought to your own safety is easy when you're not leaving someone behind. Good then, that they don't have any families left... Until Hydra drops a new bundle of responsibility right in their laps. But that might not even be their biggest problem.

Crash Love by S_Hylor

It’s just sex. Just sex between two consenting adults who don’t have feelings for each other beyond the camaraderie that comes from being on the same team.

It’s just sex. Until it isn’t. It’s not love. Until it is.

To Liars and Saving the World by magicasen

When Tony's life is in danger, Steve does the only thing he can do to save his teammate: he makes an honest man out of him. Steve and Tony's sham marriage is only supposed to be a blip in their history that no one has to know about. But when they're outed to the press, and with ghosts from his past coming to haunt him, Steve must come to terms with the idea that his own feelings for Tony might not be a lie.

Wrapped Up in Your Love by iam93percentstardust

Tony has a bad day, so Steve takes care of him.

america's pastime by JenTheSweetie

The thing about the Annual Intra-Avengers Baseball Game was that it was always a little... contentious.

nothing left but scars by SailorChibi

Steve wakes up to the fact that no one ever compliments or even says thank you to Tony, and that he has fallen into the same trap of painting Tony with a specific paintbrush.

This is how he showers a very confused Tony with praise to make up for it.

a slow ticking wildness by starvels (dinosaur)

Three weeks ago, Tony burned his hands in his forge. Since then, he's been unable to use them, useless and listless.

Relying on the kindness of strangers ain't exactly his expertise. Luckily, Sheriff Steve Rogers has good hands and a heart hale enough to keep offering bits of help and hope to Tony, no matter that he ain't all that good at accepting them.

when it feels right by complicationstoo

“You’re actually hiring me after that?” Tony asks, the disbelief clear in his watery brown eyes.

Steve shrugs, “Gotta start somewhere, right? And if you’re terrible, it’s not like I can’t fire you.”

Or, the one where Steve owns a bakery and Tony needs a job.

Diamonds Or Twine by complicationstoo

A hand on his shoulder grabs his attention, and Steve realizes he’s been staring off into space as Bucky says, “Hey, man. You good?”

“I’m going to propose to Tony.”

So Little Left to Give by Sineala

Steve's alive again... but Tony isn't anywhere to be found. Steve knows what to do about that. His quest to find Tony takes him to the frozen depths of Russia, to rescue Tony from one of his greatest foes. But that's not all he has to contend with. Tony's in the process of deleting his own brain, and Steve doesn't know if the man he finds will still remember him.

the hedgehog (and one million blue whales) by soliloquent

“Hm. But, how hard?” Tony challenges.

Steve ponders for a second. “As hard as one million blue whales sitting on you.”

“One million?” Tony looks genuinely in awe. “I reckon that would crush one tiny hedgehog, don’t you think?”

“Nah. You're all spiky. Small, but feisty. The whales wouldn't stand a chance.”

—⎊—

or: Steve and Tony's love story unfolding through a series of everyday moments in the span of two years, pieced together to paint the canvas of their intertwined lives — a precious portrait woven with quirky whale-themed endearments, meaningful acts of service, soothing showers, cherished gifts, and one adorable hedgehog. 🦔

Hold Me Down by tinystark616

Steve asks Tony to wear one of his iron man suits and hold his wrists down during sex.

Tony gives Steve what he wants, and more.

Teacher, Teacher, Can You Reach Me? by Politzania

After spotting a flyer at a new coffee shop, Rhodey dares Tony to attend a Sip and Sketch class; turns out the twinky blond barista is also the class instructor.

Stony AUniverse Bingo - AU: Teacher -- Tony Stark Bingo - Dares/Bets -- Tony Stark This or That - Best Friend -- July Break Bingo - Location: Art Studio

To Make Flowers Grow (In This Barren Heart) by KakushiMiko, SoldiersShield

“You hide yourself away in your technology, but you are just as human as the rest of them. Your heart betrays your desire to possess.” Her gaze falls to the arc reactor, and Tony's blood runs cold in his veins.

“The Earth will reclaim what we have lost,” she says, dragging a hand over the chestplate of the armor. “It is you, and your kind-- your greed that pulls life from the soil as if it were nothing. You will reap what you have sown, Stark. The avarice in your heart will strangle the very life out of you.” Arna meets his eyes once more, a serene smile on her face as she leans forward.

“I hope he is worth dying for,” she murmurs, before digging her hand into his ribcage.

(Tony Stark falls in love with Steve Rogers. A rogue enchantress ensures he pays for it.)

A Guiding Hand by KandiSheek

Tony is perpetually stressed. His job, his divorce and his insomnia are making his life a living hell. He just can't seem to catch a break.

That is until his boss Steve inadvertently gives him exactly what Tony needs - a firm hand. Tony hasn't played with his submissive tendencies in years, but he knows an opportunity when he sees one. And as it turns out, Steve is more than happy to give him the guidance he craves.

Made of Stars by KagekaNecavi

Deep in the heart of World War II, Steve, Bucky, the Invaders, and the Howling Commandos are getting close to finding the portion of Hydra controlled by the Red Skull and defeating him. As they close in, they receive intelligence that he has am unusual escape method - a machine powered by a mysterious gem that might give Skull the ability to move through time. This seems like a red herring to them, but when Steve and Bucky corner Skull, he uses it.

Steve and Bucky follow Skull and the next thing Steve knows, he’s waking up on a spaceship called the Avenger and the Red Skull - who went back in time, not forward - has ruled the known galaxy for the last several hundred years. Now he’s working with the rebels to usurp the Red Skull and trying to navigate this strange, amazing new world with his new friends and companions at his side.

#stevetony weekly #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #stony #iron man #captain america #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

63 notes · View notes

thornybubbles · 1 year

Text

JJBA Yandere Scenario: Jealousy (The Jo-Foes: Kira)

Note: Canon-typical violence and yandere behavior ahead. Nothing too detailed or graphic, but just a heads up.

Jealous Yoshikage Kira is even more predatory and calculated than he normally is. Very little bothered Yoshikage anymore, but sometimes his job at the department store annoyed him to no end. He kept getting complaints from management about ridiculous things, none of which were in Yoshikage’s job description to deal with. He knew exactly what his boss was doing. He was trying to shove his duties onto his subordinates so that he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Yoshikage just sighed and handled it like he always did: he sent the complaints to those over his bosses heads and went about doing his actual duties. He wanted to laugh at the thought of how angry his boss would get over being forced to deal with his own responsibilities. The best part was that he couldn’t be fired for it. He was just doing his job after all. Still, the man caused him unnecessary amounts of stress at times due to how insufferable he was. Though he was not as insufferable as the new intern.

The young man was from some business school and it was very clear he’d never done any real work a day in his life. He was lazy, entitled, and unwilling to put effort into anything more than flirting with the office girls. All of that Yoshikage could ignore. What he couldn’t ignore, was when the intern kept flirting with you. When Yoshikage first started working alongside you, he didn’t think anything of you. You were barely a blip on his radar, but after a while of knowing you, something strange happened. He started to feel a pull towards you that he couldn’t explain. Yoshikage was no stranger to feelings of attraction and lust, but this was something different. After mulling it over a bit, he decided that his feelings for you could be nothing other than love.

It made perfect sense. You were nothing like the other girls in the office. You didn’t spread gossip or bad mouth anyone to get a higher position like they did. You were charming, polite, and caring. You did your job thoroughly and dutifully. You did have your mischievous side, however and occasionally partook of mild office pranks. It was never anything disruptive, but oh how Yoshikage admired that little devil in you. It was cute. You were a calm, yet playful little kitty and with every day that passed he found himself falling for you more and more. You made him feel so calm and happy. Genuinely happy. Not just content or satisfied, but happy.

The problem was that you affected him so greatly that he was unable to approach you the way he wanted to. To think that you had such a power over him. To think that the unshakable Yoshikage Kira became as shy as a school boy whenever he was in your presence. He should hate the fact that you have that kind of control over him, but it only made him want to laugh. The strangest thing about it all, was that he hadn’t even laid eyes on your hands before you started making him fall for you. He only got a glimpse of them once when you handed him a pen after he dropped it (how sweet of you). They weren’t anything special. Your nails were clipped short and unpolished, your fingers were calloused from holding a pen (you were always taking notes), and the skin on the backs of your hands was dry and flaky. Normally this would have been a turn off for him, but seeing your hands in such a state only made him pity you. You poor thing. It was obvious you were neglecting yourself. There was no reason why a girl shouldn’t pamper herself every once in a while, especially one that worked as hard as you did. That’s when he got a wonderful idea.

Once every week for the next few weeks, you would find a carefully arranged gift basket containing all manner of beauty and self care products, especially manicure kits and nail polish. You would stare at them in shock and awe and Yoshikage nearly swooned every time he saw the blush on your face. Clearly you were flattered at the thought of having an admirer and the thought filled him with delight. To think that he made you blush! When you actually started using some of the polish and hand lotions he gave you, he was over the moon. He thought about putting some jewelry in the gift baskets, too, but later decided that it would be a bit too much this early in the relationship. To think that he was already imagining what your ring finger would look like bearing an engagement ring. The thought had him leaning on his desk, resting his head in one hand, and staring at his computer screen like a teenager daydreaming about his crush during class. He would have to snap himself out of such a state in order to get back to work. You really had no idea what you were doing to him. You were making it very hard for the normally patient man to bide his time and woo you properly.

He had already broken up with his current “girlfriend”. It didn’t feel right to start another relationship when he was already in one. Yoshikage was not that kind of man. He may have had many “lovers” during his life, but he was always loyal to them when they were together. Fortunately, things with his current “girlfriend” were beginning to cool off anyway. There was no bitterness between them when they said their goodbyes. He thought back to all of his previous relationships and noticed that none of them made him feel the way you did. (Maybe that was because they were only severed hands and nothing more, but that’s beside the point. Or is it?) He’d only ever felt attraction towards his other girls and little else. He felt nothing meaningful for them at all. You were different. He admired you, genuinely cherished you. He loved you. That must be the case if he felt so strongly drawn to you without being attracted to your hands. He found the rest of you to be attractive enough. He thought that maybe it was time to dispense with having only romantic flings and finally find someone to settle down with. If only he could get over his shyness. The thought of approaching you made his heart race and he had to make an effort to avoid chewing on his nails.

Yoshikage had been mentally working himself up to talk to you for days now. He didn’t want to mention that he was your secret admirer just yet. That could be a fun surprise for later, after the two of you had been dating for a while. He didn’t know what he’d do if you turned him down though. The thought of it made him want to retch. On this particular day, Yoshikage had decided that even if he didn’t ask you out, he was at least going to talk to you. He thought that maybe you would think him odd if he just asked you out without ever even speaking to you before, so it would be better to at least talk to each other first. But before he could make a move, he saw that repulsive intern walk over to your desk. The low life had the nerve to lean over you and grab your hand! He made a show of admiring your nails before saying,

“Wow. Those are really nice!”

You smiled up at the intern, flattered.

“Thanks. I was going to go with a light red, but I thought that was too inappropriate for work, so I toned it down with one of the polishes my secret admirer got me.” you said, happy to have someone notice the work you’d done on your nails. It had been a long time since you bothered pampering your hands after all. You were very proud of how they turned out.

“Oh? A secret admirer?” the intern said in a teasing manner.

“Yeah….” you said, then turned in your chair to give the intern your full attention. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

Yoshikage stopped typing. He lowered his head just enough to hide the fact that he was watching the scene play out between the two of you. How long had you been trying to find the identity of your secret admirer? Did that mean something significant or was he overthinking things? His heart was pounding so much that it was making his shirt and tie vibrate with each beat.

“Oh… I might.” said the intern.

Yoshikage’s entire body tensed up.

“Is that a confession?” you asked, giving the intern a playful look.

“Possibly…” he said, returning the look.

Yoshikage was fuming. Was that disgusting little worm actually trying to take credit for his gifts?!

Your eyes grew wide in realization.

“Wait a minute? Are you saying that you’re my secret admirer?” you asked.

The intern gave his nails a non-committal glance.

“Sure. Why not?” he said.

You proceeded to gush over him and how thoughtful the gifts were and which polishes and lotions were your favorite. The whole time, Yoshikage was doing his best to stop himself from leaping over the desks and ending the intern’s life.

That little bastard is lying to you! He thought. Why can’t you see it! Please see that it's a lie!!

Then something dreadful happened. You hopped up from your chair and threw your arms around the intern’s neck. The embrace only lasted a moment but it was far too long for Yoshikage’s taste. Unable to look at the scene any longer, Yoshikage’s eyes locked onto his computer screen. He’d been typing the whole time, trying to look as if he wasn’t spying on you and the intern, but his report was ruined. The whole screen was filled with one word typed over and over again:

“DIE!”

He gasped softly at the sight. He was losing control. Quickly, he deleted what was on the screen. He could fix it later. Right now he needed to get out of there. He needed to calm down.

Or else he was going to do something drastic. He got up from his desk, making an attempt to look as casual as possible in spite of how badly his hands were shaking, and headed for the bathroom. He was ever so grateful to find it unoccupied.

Once inside, he pressed himself against the wall and gasped for breath. He was beginning to hyperventilate. His breath was coming out in ragged huffs and it felt like his lungs were shrinking. His blood pressure was going through the roof and his head hurt so badly. His heart felt like it was going to burst through his ribs. He’d been angry before, but never like this. He glanced at his fingernails. They’d grown exponentially in only a few minutes. His claws were coming out at the worst possible time. He had to calm down. He had to! But he couldn’t calm down until he figured out what to do. He couldn’t lose you to that worthless bastard! He couldn’t lose you to anyone! HE COULDN’T LOSE YOU!!! He was so angry he was going to explode!!!

Explode?

Explode…

Of course! How could he be so stupid? How could he nearly lose control over an obstacle with such an easy solution? He smiled and sighed in relief, letting himself sag against the wall. Obstacle? No. Hardly even that. This was merely a speed bump. All he had to do was slow down and roll right over it. He chuckled at himself. His heart rate and breathing had returned to normal. He still had a bit of a headache, but he could take something for that later. He pushed away from the wall and walked over to the sink. He turned it on and let the cool water run into his hands before splashing it onto his face. He took one deep, long sigh before finally reigning in his temper. He pulled some paper towels out of the dispenser and patted his face dry.

He spotted a flash of pink and black in the mirror as he glanced at his reflection. Killer Queen had manifested and was staring at him in the reflection. That was odd. He must’ve summoned the Stand by accident when he was having his near meltdown. Killer Queen made eye contact with him in the reflection. He reached up with his hand and dragged a gloved finger across his throat. Yoshikage was stunned for a moment. His Stand had never shown any kind of sentience before, though he certainly agreed with the sentiment. Perhaps Killer Queen shared his feelings for you? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he supposed it wasn’t really a problem.

“That’s right, my friend.” he said quietly so that no one passing by would overhear. “We’ll make the little rat pay for laying claim to something that doesn’t belong to him.”

Later that night, the intern walked into his home to find Yoshikage Kira sitting at his kitchen table.

“Kira!” the intern cried. “What the hell are you doing in my house? Get the hell out before I call the police!”

Yoshikage smiled wryly. He glanced over at the smoking remains of the phone that used to hang on the kitchen wall.

“You can try, but it looks like your phone is out of order.” Yoshikage said in a calm tone.

The intern ran past him and into the living room, looking for his other phone, only to find that one in the same condition. He ran back into the kitchen and tried to run back out the door only to find it stuck. He pulled and pulled but it wouldn’t budge. Killer Queen was holding it closed, eyeing the intern intensely. The intern gave up on the door. He turned to face Yoshikage.

“What do you want? Why are you here, Kira?” he demanded as he panted for breath.

Yoshikage rose from the table, careful to slide the chair back under the table. He knew it wouldn’t matter in a few moments, but cleaning up after oneself was always a good habit to keep.

“I’m just here to do a little pest control.”

The intern blinked in confusion.

“Pest control?”

“Yes. Must I spell it out for you?” Yoshikage huffed.

“Okay, fine.” the intern said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Spell it out then. What is this about?”

“This is about you taking credit for my work.” Yoshikage explained.

“What?! When did I do that?”

“Today, when you were talking with her.” Yoshikage growled, feeling his ire beginning to rise. “You lied to her. You told her that you were her admirer even when you know that’s not true!”

The young man blinked and then scoffed in disdain.

“So you were the admirer?” he said. “Oh my God. Are you serious? You came to my house to threaten me over a god damned chick?!”

Yoshikage walked up to where the intern stood and placed a hand against the side of his head. The intern flinched at the touch and looked up at him in confusion.

“W-what the h-hell are you do---- AAAAAACK!!”

Yoshikage had slammed the intern’s head against the kitchen cabinet. The intern crumpled to the floor, clutching his bleeding scalp.

“Ah! A-ah! You.. ah!” was all he could say. The room was spinning and the intern was starting to feel a bit sick.

“Oh my. That’s a nasty looking bump.” Yoshikage mocked.

Killer Queen hoisted the intern off the floor. His head was spinning so much that he hadn’t even noticed that something he couldn’t see was holding him up.

“You seem a bit dizzy. Let’s get you some water.”

Killer Queen dragged the intern over to the sink and bent him backwards until his bloody head was hanging in the basin. Yoshikage adjusted the faucet to line up with the intern's face, then reached over and turned on the water. The intern sputtered and choked as Killer Queen held him under the gushing flow.

“Now, don’t overdo it, Killer Queen.” Yoshikage chuckled. “No reason we can’t play with our prey a little bit first.”

He noticed the small smile the Stand had on his face.

After a few moments, Yoshikage decided that it was time to end it. He reached over and turned off the water. Killer Queen visibly pouted and Yoshikage was almost tempted to pat the Stand’s head.

“Alright, that’s enough now. We’ve had our fun, but it’s time to get down to business.” he said.

The Stand perked up at that. He let go of the intern who collapsed onto the tile floor in an exhausted, panting heap.

“You brought all of this on yourself, you know.” Yoshikage said. “None of this would have happened if you only remained content to chase after those water cooler harpies and left my darling alone.”

“Y-yo-- y-you’re insane…” the intern gasped out after finally regaining some of his breath. “I… I’m going to tell my uncle about this!”

“You’re uncle?” Yoshikage asked.

“The assistant manager! Your boss!” the intern cried, feeling unduly brave for some reason.

“Ah! Now the pieces have come together.” Yoshikage said with a laugh. “I suppose he’s the only reason you’re training with the Kame Yu administration team as opposed to cleaning toilets. It only makes sense that his nephew would be as insufferable as he is. You strike me as the type that never got anywhere in life unless your mommy and daddy or someone else arranged it for you. I despise parasitic little vermin like you and I’ll be doing society a favor by ridding it of your presence! To think someone as worthless as you dared put their filthy hands on my angel!”

The intern’s face went pale and he stared up at Yoshikage in horror when he realized the meaning of his words.

“N-no! You can’t!” he whimpered.

“Sorry, but only one of us will be returning to work tomorrow. It certainly won’t be you, because you are about to have a very unfortunate accident.” Yoshikage said as he looked back at Killer Queen who was just removing his gloved hands from the top of the stove.

The Stand faded away, but not before sending a vicious kick to the intern’s chest, breaking two of his ribs. Yoshikage shook his head. He didn’t know if his Stand’s new-found independence would prove to be troublesome or not, but that was another thing he could deal with later.

Yoshikage watched the explosion and resulting fire from the alley a block from the intern’s house. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the scent of destruction in the air. Never had a kill left him feeling so free and untroubled. It was like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders and he felt like he had just been to a spa. Now he had you all to himself, with no one to try to insert themselves between him and you. Though, you would most likely be distraught when you heard what happened to the intern. The authorities would deem it an accident, attributing it to a faulty gas stove. Poor thing, you were so sensitive to things like that. Having such a gruesome death happen to someone you worked so closely with, would no doubt have a negative impact on you. Perhaps that was how he could finally approach you? Surely you would need a shoulder to cry on? He could come to your aid as a concerned co-worker.

Who knows? Maybe you would even let him hold your hand.

#yandere kira #yandere yoshikage kira #yandere jjba #yandere kira x reader #yandere yoshikage kira x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jojo #yandere jjba x reader #reader insert #yandere jojo x reader #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #JJBA part 4 #Jojo diamond is unbreakable #diamond is unbreakable

281 notes · View notes

doodles5555 · 16 days

Text

Mary's Song (Oh my my my)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Adopted Sister!Reader

Summary: This fic will follow the lyrics of the song “Mary’s Song” by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 1500+

Warnings: None! A little angst at the end that is unresolved, but since this is just a blip in the character's lives, it will be ok by the beginning of the next chapter.

A/N: Here is some probably necessary information before starting: In this fic, all of our characters are a bit older than in the last one. Timelines and some details may be a bit wonky, but that's ok. I hope you enjoy!

p.s this is not a lyric fic, but instead, a fic that was inspired by the song

Chapter 2:

Sitting on the ground underneath the shade of the biggest tree in your backyard, you are focused on your favorite book, and your brother, Steve, is quietly humming to himself while working on some of his math homework. You can see the tip of his pencil moving around in smooth motions. You look over to the bright paper and see him doodling some pretty flowers on an expanding landscape, and you can imagine them in your mother's garden, the one your father built himself as a gift for your mother's birthday last year.

“That’s very pretty Stevie. You’re so talented, y’know that? I hope you do. One day, I’ll get to see your amazing artwork in a gallery. I just know it,” you ramble out before you even think about it.

You see the corners of his smile tug upwards. You only wish he knew you really meant it. His skill is beyond his years. His teachers often comment about the doodles left on his classwork, about how he should take some art classes, to further his knowledge and skill.

You had overheard your mother and father arguing about saving up some extra money, cutting any extra expenses to pay for any costs regarding the proposed extracurricular. Still, it ended up the same every time – Times were getting tougher, money was harder to come by, and panic was starting to settle like dust in the community. Any leftover profits from previous years were going to support your family. The stock market crashed only a few months ago, and you and Steve were none the wiser to how bad it truly had gotten.

“Maybe one day buttercup,” the nickname rolls off his tongue with ease for the commonality of its use, making his words sound sweeter than the undertones. Steve understood that your family was in an unfortunate situation and had grown poorer in the more recent months, noticing smaller dinners on the dining table and less familial outings, but he wouldn’t let that stop him from practicing and utilizing his drawing as a creative outlet. It helped him keep in touch with how he feels.

“Hey, Punk! Buttercup!” Shouting could be heard from the other side of the fence. As you turn toward the sound of the voice, you spot Bucky in the act of climbing over the worn-out fence surrounding your house. As his feet reach the ground, he races over to the shade the tree provides. He plops down at Steve’s feet, his eyes gazing upwards towards the paper in his hands. He snatches it, almost tearing the frail sheet with his tight grip. His blue eyes scan the paper intensely. The wide-eyed expression that lights up his face is priceless.

This wasn’t the first time that Bucky had seen one of Steve’s impressive drawings, but this one seemed to strike a chord in his brain. He just seems to be fascinated by the image.

“Wow, just wow,” Bucky is in awe of the gift that his best friend possesses. “So when will I be seeing this in a museum?” Bucky continues. Steve lets out a small chuckle, the idea absurd in his head.

“As cool as that would be, I already know that will not be my future.” You knew Steve always dreamed of joining the army and battling alongside other determined men and women defending the country, but that fantasy just wasn’t possible in his current state. You would never say anything to crush his persistence since the idea made him so happy, but you would always worry about his safety if he ever went through with it.

“As long as you’re happy, then we will support you, no matter what!” You smile. You meant what you said, and you know Bucky shares the sentiment.

—--

As the sun passes through the sky and falls below the horizon line, you and the boys start running around the yard and playing tag. Steve was huffing and puffing, needing to sit out for a second to avoid an angry asthma attack. You and Bucky had been playfully bickering while the time-out was called on Steve’s behalf.

“I was goin’ to get you, I just know it!” You exclaimed through hard breaths.

“Yeah, yeah, sure you were,” Bucky said with a good-natured eye roll.

Sensing his playful spirit, you sprint towards him intending to knock him to the ground, but you can only slightly shake him off the spot where he stands.

“Oh, you’re asking for it, Buttercup!” He tries to grab you from where you are, but you swiftly dodge his hands, barely escaping his grip. You run in towards Steve, trying to hide behind him while he is still recovering. Bucky wouldn’t want to hurt Steve by accident just to get to you, right?

Before you can even test that thought, Bucky manages to get a hold on the back of your shirt, slowing you down just enough for him to be able to strengthen his grasp on you. He throws you over his shoulder, and you shriek in surprise.

“Let me down, you goof!” Giggles are pouring from your mouth as Bucky carries you towards the big oak tree. You start to lightly hit his back as a signal for him to put you down on the solid dirt. As he starts to do so, your unstable legs accidentally make you stumble and start to fall. Unluckily for Bucky, he was still holding on to you, so you end up as a clump of bodies on the ground. You can hear Steve shout from the other side of the yard, most likely asking if you are both okay. You holler a confirmation before assessing the situation you have gotten yourself into.

Bucky adjusts himself so that his body is hovering over yours, his body being propped up above you. You can’t seem to stop staring at his eyes. They have you in some sort of powerful trance; you can’t escape if you try, but you don’t want to stop. Bucky seems to share the sentiment because your eye contact goes unbroken for what feels like minutes. You see Bucky’s mouth start to move, but what he says doesn’t register in your ears. Before you can process what you are about to say, it spills from your parted lips.

“Kiss me,” your words are breathless. Your face surely mirrors Bucky's expression; The shock is evident, but he isn’t off put by the idea. He nods, the motion so small that you barely catch it.

He wants to kiss you. You want to kiss him. This recurring dream is coming to life right before you. This is all you have wanted since you realized your emotions for Bucky are more than platonic. He leans in, now inches from your face.

You freeze.

Every other thought bouncing around seized to a stop at that moment. You start to scramble out of Bucky’s gentle hold, untangling your body as quickly as you possibly can. Your panic is palpable. You hustle to your feet and book it towards Steve. You look over your shoulder to interpret the situation you ran away from. The regret starts to simmer beneath the flush on your skin.

Bucky’s face doesn’t show much emotion, but you can read the disappointment in his body language. His shoulders are slumped and his demeanor is troubled, almost as if he is grieving the loss of your body from under his. You automatically feel like a jerk. In your frenzy, you didn’t even think how Bucky would react to your sudden frantic disinterest in an innocent kiss.

The tears started to well in your eyes. You stammer out an excuse to head back inside the house to the comfort of your room before you let the drops roll down your cheeks.

—--

A few days have come and passed since the “incident” with Bucky, and you have been trying to avoid him. You know he feels whatever it is that is bubbling inside of you, but your embarrassment has stopped you from trying to fix the mess that you created. The consequences of your actions are starting to catch up with you. You are miserable without his companionship. Even Steve has started making comments about Bucky’s sudden absenteeism from your days under the oak tree. You want to mend the tear you created in your friendship, but the uncertainty of how Bucky may react is sending you in the complete opposite direction.

Growing up alongside each other has created a special bond between the two of you. You never had many friends, seemingly always on the outside of everyone in your year at school. You were also not a stranger to rude remarks and getting into fights trying to defend your honor. Everything culminated in your only friends being your brother and his best friend.

Were you lonely at school? Yes, but that didn’t matter because once you reached your front porch, you had everyone you needed at your fingertips.

Now that one of the members of your tiny group was consistently missing, it felt as though a piece of the puzzle was missing, just shy of being complete. You know you need to fix the mess you created, but you are unsure of how to do so.

Oh my my my…

—--

A/N: Thanks for reading! I am a very busy college student, so it may take a while for me to get to writing and posting part 3, but I will do my best for it to come out sooner rather than later. Have a great rest of your day/night!

#fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #reader insert #x reader #steve x adopted!sister reader #steve rogers x adopted!sister reader #james buchanan barnes #writing

15 notes · View notes

wifeofnatasharomanoff · 1 year

Text

Gone But Not Forgotten chapt. 1

Warnings: Angst, smut, cheating kinda?, break ups

Words: 2,622

Summary: it's a lot, so Nat and Bruce were together but then you come in, but then Nat leaves you, then Wanda comes in, she gets blipped, so does Bruce because I hate him. (Also Shuri didn't get snapped because why not and Clint doesn't become Ronan)

A/N: @scarlettsandmaroons idea!! hi athy bae

You were a new SHIELD agent, being brought in after the battle in Sokovia. Mr. Stark offered you a room to stay in while the base you stay in is being repaired.

You became friends with the Avengers team pretty quickly, except for Bruce. You don't like him, he doesn't like you. It's complicated. But here you are in the training room with his girlfriend.

“Y/n. You good?” she pulls you from your thoughts, you look up at her. “Uh.. yeah- I'm good I was gonna head out with Maria later maybe.” she stares at you for a couple more seconds.

“On second thought, how about we hang out today?” you turn to look at her, “Why would you wanna hang out with me.” you laugh, picking up your water bottle.

You don't know it but, Natasha's been watching your every move since you were let into the compound. Is it weird? Definitely.

“Because.. we're friends?” she quipped with confusion laced in her tone. “Ha. Friends. You're funny, bye.” you wave, leaving her alone in the empty room.

A few hours later, oddly enough the walls aren't soundproof. You could hear muffled yelling from the room next to yours, then a door slamming. “I wonder what that was.” you mutter to yourself, scrolling through Netflix deciding what show to watch.

A knock on your door breaks the silence.

“...Who is it?” you close your laptop, sighing. “Come in, the doors open.” you see wisps of flame-like red hair as she opens the door. “Natasha? Hey.. what's wrong?” you get up, walking up to her.

“Bruce and I broke up.” you look up at her, pulling her into a hug, rubbing her back. “Aw.. Nat it's okay.” “To be honest, we were falling apart months ago.” she admits, sighing into your shoulder.

“Because I– I don't love him anymore,” she breaks your embrace, looking into your eyes. You furrow your brows, clearly confused. “Y/n I.. would you wanna go out– sometime?” you look at her, laughing nervously.

“I— what?” “Would you.. wanna go out sometime?” she looks at you sternly. “I mean– yes! I'd love to, I honestly sorta' had a major crush on you when I first came here.” you feel heat creep it's way to your cheeks, tainting your face blush-pink.

“Okay. Good. I'm glad.” she cups your face in her hands. “Can I kiss you?” you nod, unable to form words from your mouth.

She presses her lips against yours, backing up to the edge of the bed. She shoves you onto the bed, you look up at her. “Nat–” she squeezes your ass before pulling down your panties.

“Fuck.. you're so wet detka.” you whimper, feeling her light motions on your clit. She pushes a finger into your pussy, making you arch your back.

Lewd noises escape from your mouth, she shoves a second finger in, slamming into your pussy. “Moan for me kotenok, let me hear you.” your moans continuously get louder.

You gasp, blinking slowly. “Natty I'm gonna—” “Do it, cum for me baby, all over my fingers. Just like that, good girl.” you scream, moaning out her name.

“You're doing so well baby..” she slowly pulls out of you. Smiling down at you, she kisses you softly. “That was..” you blush, laughing slightly.

“I'll.. see you later okay?” you inhale shakily, smiling at her. “Yeah! Yeah– I'll see you later.” she smiles, opening the door and leaving your room.

The next morning you wake up, getting out of bed and walking into the lounge room. Waving hi to everyone. You walk into the kitchen, “Hey Y/n.” she rasps out, casually winking at you as if she has no idea what you two did last night.

“Hey– hey Nat.” you grab a mandarin, peeling it as you go sit next to her on the couch. “Give me one,” she looks at you, you smile. “Tasha if you wanted one you could've taken it from the bowl–” she tackles you, getting on top of you.

She smirks, taking a mandarin slice from you. “You're too easy detka.” getting off of you, she sits back in her place. Completely ignoring Bruce's side eyes from across the room.

“I swear to god Romanoff, stop stealing my food.” “No but, I'll steal your heart.” she winks, you laugh. “That was really cheesy Nat.” you look up at her, handing her another slice.

“You could've just asked nicely Natty.” you shrug, putting a piece into your mouth. She looks at you, slightly blushing. “Yeah well, where's the fun in that?” she kisses your cheek, getting up from the couch.

“Trainings in 10. Don't be late.” you smile, waving as she leaves the lounge room. You plop the last piece in your mouth, getting up to leave as well.

You quietly made your way to the training rooms but you hear 2 people talking, walking closer you realize that it's Natasha and Bruce.

"Nat I'm sorry, I love you take me back." you watch them for a few minutes, "Bruce you know I can't.. I–" "What does Y/n have that I don't? Just take me back Natasha." he moves closer to her, they look at each other for some time.

You walk into the training room, faux coughing to show your presence. “Hey Y/n..” you look at the both of them. “Hey..” Bruce ends up leaving the room as soon as you enter.

“What was that?” Natasha looks at you, “What? What was what..?” you sigh, getting into position for training. “Nothing.”

After training Natasha notices you acting off, a bit different than your usual self. You glance at her from afar every few seconds. “What's wrong Y/n?” ... “I told you, nothing is wrong. I'm fine.”

A few weeks later, you're in your room. Natasha's doing mission report on bed, with her laptop at 1 AM. “Tasha go to sleep.” “No I'm not done yet—” she gets cut off with a knock on the door. You groan,

Who could be at the door at 1 AM?

“I'll get it.” she gets off of the bed, opening the door. You glance at the door to see who it is, Bruce? You watch her look up at him, leaving the room. “Nat—” she was already gone by then.

You sigh, getting up and following them. "Bruce I already told yo–" Natasha looks at him, "Nat we could leave the compound if you want,..." muffled words, you watch them. Gasping quietly, running back to your room.

A few minutes after you get to your room, you hear a knock. “Uh..c-come in.” you see her open the door. You clench your jaw, putting on an act. “Hey.. did– did you see what happened out there?”

“What, that you kissed Banner?” her eyes widen slightly, not knowing you caught them. “Kotenok I can explain–” “Don't. Nat, you kissed someone else and out of all the people, Bruce. If it was Wanda I wouldn't be as mad.” she rubs her temple, looking down at you.

“Baby please.” you get up from the bed, facing her. “I know you want to get back with him,” you went on, “And– I know that you don't love me.” you look away from her. She steps into your place, cupping your face.

“Y/n I do love you!” “But you love Bruce more. Admit it already.” she forces your face to look at hers. “..So I guess this is over?” you defeatedly nod. She sighs, “Detka are you being serious?” “Ye- yes.” you hesitate, forcing your gaze away from her.

“Y/n–” tears form in your eyes, “Natasha please. Leave me alone..” your voice cracks, words start to come out as sobs. She takes her hands off of your face, tears pooling in her eyes.

She goes to the door, looking back at you. “I love you, Y/n.” the tears that once sat in your eyes streamed down your face. “Natasha just go.” she leaves your room, you let out a choked sob.

Sitting on your bed, missing the strong arms wrapped around you. The flirty whispers during team meetings, training sessions, her. But she left you, for him. You should've never let her in your room that night.

You cry until you can't anymore, heavy tired eyes. Sleep slowly taking over your body, you pass out into a deep sleep.

The next day you wake up, Natasha and Bruce leave the compound. Was there anything that could've changed things? No. You believed that she would pick him everytime.

Three years later you find yourself in bed with your girlfriend. Who? Wanda Maximoff, the sweetest girl ever. You loved her and she loved you. This year was going so well until? Thanos and his freaky 'family', Children of Thanos or whatever had to fuck it up.

You were called back into the old Avengers tower that you all used to live in before recent events, splitting the team of one into two.

You spot Natasha and Bruce across the room, tearing your eyes from them, as Wanda whispers something to you. “Wanda!” you giggle, struggling to cover up your laugh. “Stop it.” “Whaat.. I didn't do anything..” she bends down to your ear again. “Yet.”

You blush profoundly, struggling to make up a response other than playfully hitting her arm. “Wanda.. we are in,” you poke her shoulder. “The middle of a very important meeting.”

“I would rather be in the middle of your legs maylsh.” you widen your eyes, “Wanda. Not here, no.” her eyes turn back to it's natural green state, smirking at you.

Little did you know Natasha was staring at the both at you. Bruce knew this of course, he always knew that she blames herself for your break up. Even when it was his fault. He never apologized, he couldn't care less.

Wanda planned to propose to you after the battle, the 'Infinity War'. After the meeting for the whole battle plan, you went back to your old room with Wanda.

“I remember this place, I used to force you to watch sitcoms with me here.” you smile at the memory, “Yeah.” you look around, seeing as the room is how you left it.

Looking down at the covers of the bed, noticing tear stains. “Y/n?” your gaze snaps back to hers, “Uh.. yeah?” she gets close to you, putting hands on your waist. “You seem distracted darling.” your breath hitches slightly, biting your lower lip.

“Mm.. mhm?” she takes one hand off of your waist, cupping your face with it. Pulling you in for a deep kiss. “Mhm.” you smile at her as she unclothes you, pulling you into bed.

A few hours later, everyone flies to Wakanda for the big fight. You quickly lose track of where Wanda went, fighting off some alien. You hear a scream on the distance, running off to where you think it may be.

Thanos snaps his fingers, Visions dead, a hole left in his forehead. You watch as the people around you start to decrease. Wanda. You spot her on the ground, “Y/n– what's happening I can't move..” you start to panic, tears welling in your eyes.

“Wanda, Wanda everything's alright. Okay? You're okay.. you–” you pull her into an embrace, praying. Wishing. That everything would turn out fine. Gasping as you see your lovers lower body turn to dust, her face contorting in pain.

“Hey.. Wands re- remember what we said? About getting married and– having a house in a little neighborhood? Hm?” You pull her closer to you, “Malysh I can't– I can't feel anything, am I dying? I–”

You widen your eyes, tears escaping them, and rolling down your face. “I love you so much Wanda please don't go, please not yet.” she finally figures it out, accepting her fate. Holding her fading body to yours, “I– I love you too Y/n.” she smiles, as she completely turns to dust.

You scream, completely breaking down into sobs. Chanting her name over and over again hoping she would just appear back. Knowing she won't.

You feel a hand grazing your back, you flinch. “Wanda?” you say, turning to look behind you. “Nat–” she pulls you into her arms, holding you tightly. “Shh.. detka everything is gonna be alright.”

Your muffled cries into her shoulder, “Nat she's not coming back– Wanda she's gone I–” she hesitates, bring a hand up to your back, rubbing it gently. “I know kotenok, I know.. it's okay, everything's gonna be okay.” you pull back at the nickname, her face surprised, slightly confused.

“Don't think that her being gone gives you any right to ever. Fool me again Romanoff I'm not falling for your lies twice.” she steps back slightly, shock displayed on her face. “Y/n I–” you weakly get up, walking away. “Save it Natasha.”

You eventually go back to Shuri's lab, having to get any injuries checked out. “Are you okay Y/n?” you send her a reasurring smile, “Yeah I didn't get stabbed, or..”

Turned to dust.

Shuri hands you some clean clothes, you thank her. “I know that we lost the fight but, I– I'm glad you're still here Shuri.” you hug her, telling her that everything's gonna be okay, knowing her brother got snapped too.

“I'm glad you're here too.” she broke the hug, “Now go get changed, you're getting dirt in my lab!” she joked, making you laugh on your way to the changing rooms.

Opening the door, leaving the changing rooms you see her. “Listen I'm sorry.” you nod, exiting the room. “Okay..?” you walk off to the lab again. “Bruce got snapped too.” you look up at her, “Am I supposed to cheer? Why would that matter to me?”

“You and I both know I never liked Bruce, before you and I had sex and after.” she furrows her brows, looking down at you. “Sex? Y/n–” you interrupt, “Nat you broke up with me 2 months after, we can hardly call that a relationship.”

She felt her heart shatter, the 2 months she's ever felt loved felt even farther after what you had said. All she did was nod as a response, “Yeah. I guess so.” Shuri calls out to you, “Well– I'm gonna go..” she mouthed a "Bye" and you waved goodbye, leaving her alone.

A couple weeks later, being brought back to the compound by Steve. You see her again, she looks terrible. Well, she looks beautiful as always but, tired.

“Hey Cap' what did you call me here for?” he sighs, bringing you to an empty room. “It's Natasha. She's my bestfriend, everyone can tell something is wrong with her. I'm just worried, maybe you could help us.”

You sigh, pondering whether or not you should help. “Fine. But if it doesn't help don't call me back here again.” you leave the room you were in, going back to the lounge room.

“Hey Nat..” she doesn't look your way. You sit next to her, “Natasha, everyones worried about you. Is it because of what I said?” she stays silent, her gaze flicking to the side of your face.

“Because if it is then forget it okay?” ... “But that's not what I want to do Y/n. I don't– want to forget it.” you furrow your brows in confusion, “Nat please–” she turns to look at you.

“I don't wanna forget Y/n.” She moves closer to you, “It's like you invaded my mind, I can't ever forget you. I never loved him, as much as I love you.” she slightly widens her eyes, hoping you didn't notice the accidental confession.

“Natasha you–” she quickly gets up, not sparing a glance at you. “I– I have to go.” she runs off somewhere, “Natasha wait!”

She didn't wait.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader

164 notes · View notes