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yanaromanov · 19 days

Text

in unholy denial

･｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: you’re the perfect all-american girl; a good student, a weekly churchgoer, you’re even dating the high school quarter back. so it’s all a big shock to you when your family decides to send you to a conversion camp, claiming they believe you’re a lesbian. you don’t agree with their accusation, telling everyone that you don’t like girls at all. but then you meet your camp mate wanda maximoff, who seems determined to sway your mind in another direction…

warning(s): conversion therapy, homophobia (externalised and internalised), religious mentions (christianity), smut, fingering, thigh riding, loss of virginity, hickeys, slight dubcon (only kissing), swearing, pet names (princess, honey), wanda and r are in high school but of age (over 18), cheating (r has a bf), slightly innocent reader, nude magazine, etc. minors dni

author’s note: this is my first time writing and uploading smut so i really hope it’s not terrible 🙏🏻this is heavily inspired by ‘but i’m a cheerleader’, only this time it’s with teenage wanda and much more smutty :) i also took light inspiration from @imaginedanvrs and her fic ‘atonement’, and though i did take a different turn, check it out because all of their writing is amazing :))

wc: 11.7K words

The car is quite on the ride up. You stare out the window, watching as your world begins to disappear. The camp is just under two hours away from your home town; far away enough that it feels like a whole different world, but close enough that your parents can still come visit on the weekends.

You’re not being punished. At least that’s what your parents have told you. They just want what’s best for you, want to help you find the right journey in life. Apparently this camp was supposed to do that for you. Though, you could quite see how - the apparent problem they claim to be able to fix, not identifiable to any part of your mind.

When they’d first brought up the idea, you’d been quick to confusion. A conversion therapy camp? But you weren’t gay. You had a boyfriend, the football team’s best quarterback at that, and you two were very happy together. He was handsome and kind, and you loved him. Except for maybe when he tried to kiss you, always left feeling grossed out by the encounter as his tongue tried to play with yours. But he must just be a bad kisser. That was at least what you always told yourself…

Aside from that, there were so many things that couldn’t have possibly lead your parents to believe you were gay. You were one of the top students at school, always getting the highest grades. Every Sunday you attended church, said your nightly prayers each evening before you slept. You were in the church choir, for goodness sake!

Still, your parents had sat you down in the living room one night and had a very serious conversation with you. They were concerned mostly, worried that something sinister had crept in and was tainting your life. You’d used all of your excuses in protest but they’d came prepared with their own.

A few posters from your room, filled with woman in bikini tops. You liked the patterns. Songs from your playlist that held ulterior meaning. You just liked the way they sound. The fact you hated kissing your boyfriend; a few comments you’d made to your friends about other girls at church. You thought everyone felt that way…

In the end, they’d convinced you to come along to the program, claiming it was in your best interest to attend and get the help you need. Although you didn’t believe you needed any help at all, you had agreed. If this camp was going to help them feel better, you were willing to give it a go, even if it meant getting treatment for a nonexistent problem…

Still, your heart aches a little as your small family car drives away from the suburbs you are used to, the view soon replaced by dense forest trees and vibrant undergrowth. The program was set out almost like a Summer camp, out near a lake where members could swim during their free time. That was one of the activities you’d read in the pamphlet your parents had handed you, the camp explained in its entirety alongside its promise to guarantee positive results. You’d initially asked your parents how long you would have to spend there, worried about being forced to remain when there wasn’t a problem with you to begin with, but your mom had simply smiled back softly and replied, ‘let’s just see how you get on’.

You’re almost lost in thought when the car finally turns on to the last stretch of its journey. The sight ahead of you drags you back to the present moment, eyes now searching the wide opening in the trees as the camp comes into view. It’s easy to spot, the only buildings around for a long while, and the white shutters standing out vibrantly against the green trees. The lake comes into view too, shimmering in the morning summer sun.

Soon the car slows, coming to a halt outside what looks to be the main building, its size large compared to the other’s dotted around. The ranch-style house is painted a soft blue, the fixtures and wrap-around porch shining dazzling white. All in all, it looks rather beautiful.

Your parents are the first out the car, looking around as they close the doors. You follow a moment later, eyes drifting over your surroundings as you inhale the sweet smells of the forest air. A pair of footsteps soon diverts your attention, your gaze falling to a tall blonde man making his way in your direction from the large blue house. He’s dressed very similarly to the men you see at church; a pair of neat navy slacks and a matching blue and white gingham shirt. You and your parents come to stand together on one side of the car just as he reaches your feet.

“Good morning,” the blonde says, his grin reaching from ear to ear. “Mr and Mrs Y/L/N, isn’t it?” There’s an exchange of hand shakes as your parents confirm his assumption. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you must be young Y/N.” His gaze falls to you as he speaks, a hand outstretching in your direction.

You take it, shaking it gently as you nod your head. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

The blonde lets out a low chuckle as he releases your hand, his attention turning back to your parents. “What a polite little girl you have,” he says, his smile widening. Your parents seem to take pride in his compliment, inching closer together as they stand and look over at you. “But please,” the man continues, turning back to you. “My name is reverend Steve so you can call me as such. Or just Steve if you prefer.” He smiles again as he shrugs his shoulders. “Sir always feels a bit too formal.”

There’s a trade of small laughter between the adults but you don’t find yourself joining in, still feeling a little apprehensive about this whole scenario.

“I do hope your journey here was alright.”

“Oh, just fine,” your father replies in response to reverend Steve’s question, smiling easily back at him.

“Good. I’m so glad to hear that. We’re just so happy to have Y/N here. And don’t worry, your daughter is in very good hands.”

Just at that moment, you notice another figure approaching your group, a woman, originating from the same place Steve had. When she reaches you, there’s a soft smile on her face, her red hair dazzling in the Summer sun. The reverend reaches one of his arms out, bringing the woman close to his side as his hand rests on her hip. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Natasha. She helps direct things around here, especially with the girls.”

Her hand also extends out to your parents to meet in a soft handshake as she smiles widely back at them. “Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” With your parents, reciprocating the sentiment, the redhead then turns her attention to you. Her eyes sparkle a bright shade of green as the morning sun hits them. “Hello, Y/N,”

You find yourself momentarily stumbling over your words, something about the woman distracting you until she speaks. “Good morning,” you manage eventually, smiling back nervously.

In the time you’ve greeted her, it seems your parents have retrieved your luggage from the back of the car. “These are your bags?” Reverend Steve asks, reaching to pick them up. In truth, you hadn’t even noticed them being moved there. “I’ll just take these up to your dorm room, Y/N.” He smiles once more at you before he turns, walking towards the house with your belongings in tow.

“I’ll give them a little check over once we get there,” Natasha says, drawing your attention back to her. She passes you a playful wink that causes a strange feeling in your chest. “But I’m sure there’s nothing in there that will get you in trouble, hm?”

“I don’t think-“ Your response is cut off by your sudden realisation you’re standing alone, your parents retreating back to the car and already starting the engine. “Wait I-“

“Don’t worry.” The redhead’s words yet again distract you, pulling your attention away from the vehicle behind you. “They’ll be back at the weekend to visit. You’ll be seeing them again in no time.” Natasha turns to stand side by side with you, her hand resting on your back as she gently begins to press you forwards. “Now how about you just come with me and I can show you around the place. How does that sound?”

“A-alright,” you stumble, giving one glance back to the car that has already pulled away from the camp. You let the woman by your side guide you as you watch it slowly move further and further away up the road, officially leaving you all alone.

The tour Natasha gives you, however, helps to lift your spirits a little. The camp grounds are rather beautiful, the grass vibrant and speckled with small colourful flowers. The buildings themselves are also very pleasant, all adding to the soft summer camp feel the area had. Natasha first directs you to the small bunker home her and Steve resided in, claiming members were not allowed inside but there was a small bell if you ever needed them at any time. Next, she shows you the church; a small yet grand building with dazzling stained glass windows. As you walk the pews, Natasha tells you how their service is held each morning, directed by Steve himself.

“I hear you’re in your church choir?” Natasha quips as you take in the way the light hits the windows, spreading bright colours across the floor of the building.

“Yes,” you reply, lifting your head and smiling sheepishly. “I have been since I was thirteen.”

“You’ll have to sing for us one time,” Natasha says playfully, before beckoning you out of the church and off to your next destination. On your way, she explains a little of how their program works; a mixture of group lessons and singular sessions to help you understand your problem. “Do you still attend bible study, Y/N?” Natasha asks as you approach the main building.

Shyly, you turn to face her. “No. I stopped a few years ago when I turned sixteen.”

The redhead clicks her tongue but overall doesn’t seem too disappointed, still smiling over you. “Don’t worry,” she replies. “I’m sure our study will set you just right again.” She passes you another wink before you step in through another door that she opens ahead of you.

The building has a wide front opening, a set of grand stairs set out ahead in the expanse of the tall ceilings. At the bottom of them, you suddenly notice a tall girl standing there. She’s wearing a neat uniform, her long black hair pulled back into two braids. “Y/N,” Natasha says, gesturing towards the girl. “I’d like you to meet Kate. She’ll be your mentor while you settle in.”

The raven-hair girl smiles at you as she extends a hand. You shake it, sharing a quick greeting before she hands you a welcome packet. Natasha explains how all of the rules are written inside, alongside a list of other expectations and your schedule for your stay. You hold on to it against your chest as the pair walk you around the house on your continued tour.

Inside of the main building, it feels somewhat like a mixture of a house and a school. There are two classrooms, both filled with a set of students learning from a tutor at the front of the class. A large dining hall was also set up, functioning like a school canteen. Downstairs there were a few recreational spaces with small couches arranged around card tables, all littered with various bible verse posters along the walls. As you move upstairs, Natasha shows you the bathrooms and the couple isolation rooms they had, though she assured you, you most likely wouldn’t be spending any time in there.

“Now, let’s get you some uniform, hm?” Natasha says, moving further down the corridor. She opens a long cupboard, filled with rows of pleated skirts and crisp white shirts. She looks through the rails before handing you a set of uniform in your size. Her and Kate then give you some privacy in the cupboard to change while they step outside.

The uniform is light blue, the skirt pleated through with lines of navy. The sweater vest is a matching dark blue, the logo of the camp embroidered onto one breast. You pull it on over the white button shirt, followed by the long white socks and black patent shoes Natasha had also provided. When you step out of the cupboard, the older woman takes hold of your old clothes, claiming she’ll take care of them for you until you’d be needing them again. You’re not entirely sure what she means but she’s continuing on with the tour once more before you can truly give it much thought.

“These are the girl’s dormitories,” the redhead says as she opens another door, guiding you inside. As you step in, you notice two rows of small cots, lined up with matching pink floral bedsheets. You notice one on the end, your bags sat atop waiting for you. But what catches your eye even more, is the brunette girl splayed across one of the middle beds, a magazine between her hands. She looks up as all three of you walk into the room, her green eyes meeting directly with you.

“Miss Maximoff,” Natasha says as soon as she notices the girl. “Aren’t you supposed to be in your lessons right now?”

The girl diverts her gaze to the camp director. “I didn’t feel well so I came to lie down.”

The way the girl lay across her stomach, face perfectly amused as her eyes flitted across her magazine didn’t exactly come across to you as unwell. It seems that Natasha too picks up on her lie, simply passing the brunette a small scowl. “Nice try.”

There’s a moment where the girl stares back, almost daring the women with her gaze, but she soon gives up, instead rolling her eyes as a long frustrated sigh escapes her lips. “Fine,” she mumbles, lifting herself up from the bed and slowly walking towards you. As she does, you notice how her shirt is unbuttoned further down and how her skirt is rolled at her waist, climbing the front of her thighs.

Natasha seems unfazed by her antics, simply holding out her hand which the brunnete places her magazine into with another sigh. The redhead gives it a once over before staring back at the girl. “This is contraband. Where did you find it?”

The brunette simple smirks in response. Her shoulders briefly brushes against yours as she squeezes her way through your group, headed towards the door. Before she leaves, she turns, walking gently backwards as the smirk widens on her face. “The Lord showed me the way to it.” She turns again quickly, disappearing from the dormitory alongside her lingering gaze.

Natasha doesn’t make any move to follow her, simply inclines her head as as she shouts down the corridor. “Roll down your skirt, Miss Maximoff!” Her voice still echoing, the redhead then turns back to you, that perfect smile returning almost as quickly as it at dropped. “I’m so sorry about that,” she says, glancing down at you. “Some of the other girls are a little…challenged in finding the light. Sometimes they can be a bad influence but I’m sure if you just stick with Kate, you’ll be just fine.”

You glance at the tall girl stood beside you, her soft grin looking back. “If you have any questions, feel free to ask Kate. Or of course, me or Steve at any point,” Natasha adds, drawing your attention back to her. You nod in response and she smiles back, placing a hand on to your shoulder. “Now, how about we take a look at your bags?”

———

Settling in isn’t as hard as you thought it might be. Kate is nice, you discover quickly, and helps you get unpacked. You tuck your things away into the drawers under your bed, then some more of your belongings in to the bedside table - next to the complementary bible you find tucked inside. Kate explains you can put up some photos with blue tac if you wish, pointing out to some of the other girls’ beds who have done the same. You borrow some of said blue tac from her as you stick a photo of your family alongside one of you and your boyfriend up on to the wall.

Afterwards, Kate sits with you while you look through your welcome packet. A lot of it relates to the pamphlet your parents had given you before your arrival, talking all about the camp and its methods of tackling what they phrase, ‘the misdirection of youths towards homosexuality’. The entire idea is still a little scattered in your head, but you brush it aside as you delve further into the rules and scheduling of the camp.

There are quite a few rules written down, a lot of which you recognise from your own home regulations. No curse words are to be used, nor any other inappropriate language. The Lord’s name must not be used in vain. Members must pray before each meal and every night before bed. Uniform must be worn at all times.

Then there are other rules that make you feel a little more uncertain. There is strictly NO fraternising between members. No member is permitted in the opposite dormitory to which they are assigned. Any inappropriate belongings will be confiscated.

The last rule makes you wonder back to the girl you’d seen sat inside the dormitory. There have been something ‘inappropriate’ about her magazine, obviously leading to the confiscation by Natasha. You weren’t quite sure what about it could be so bad, the name you’d glanced at briefly unrecognisable before Natasha had quickly stashed it away from your sight. If anything, the whole ordeal had only made you more curious about the strange girl and what exactly she had been reading.

As if the universe could hear your thoughts, it’s barely a few hours later when you collide with the girl once more. It’s lunch time, Kate and you just having sat down with your plates of food after she’d explained how they were set out each meal time. The dining room is filling up, all of the other camp members filing in to take their place at differing tables. It’s as your inspecting the meal in front of you that a very particular member sets herself down in front you.

“Hey, newbie.”

Your head raises from the table as you hear the voice, looking up to meet the same pair of green eyes that you recalled from earlier. The brunette stares back at you, a small smile playing at her lips as she watches your face. “Uh…hi?”

You don’t get to say much more before Kate is speaking up, leaning over the table with a scowl. “Get lost, Maximoff. We don’t want you to sit with us.”

The brunnete turns to look at the other girl, a frown of her own appearing between two perfect brows. “Loosen up, Bishop. I just wanted to say hello to our newest addition.” As she finishes, her eyes trail back to you, the scowl dropping away to that same smirking expression. For a moment it seems as if she looks you up and down, scanning over your uniform before studying your face again. “I’m Wanda,” she says eventually, voice light. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You smile back a little awkwardly, torn between your polite nature and the instructions you had received to avoid this exact girl sat opposite you. “Y/N,” you reply, letting your manners overtake the situation.

“Just go away, Wanda,” Kate butts in suddenly, her voice raised. “I’m her mentor, not you.”

The brunette screws up her face as she turns to the raven-haired girl, scoffing under her breath. “God Kate, you’re so fucking uptight.” She sighs loudly as she pushes herself up from the table. As she does, you notice how her skirt is still rolled at the waist. But you don’t settle on it too long, distracted as she begins to speak again. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” Wanda says, her voice playful once more. Her eyes train on you for just a moment as she backs away from the table, another girl soon taking her place.

“Just ignore her,” Kate grumbles over to you. She begins to list a string of complaints about the girl but doesn’t get far, soon interrupted by Reverend Steve calling for grace at the front of the room. You bow your head as he begins to pray, clasping your hands under your chin just as you did with every meal you ate at home. A chorus of ‘amens’ rings out as the prayer finishes, all heads lifting once more to begin eating their lunch. As you lift yours, your gaze briefly flashes across the room, catching across the way, a pair of green eyes staring back at you. Wanda sits smirking, but you don’t see much else, quickly finding yourself flustered and looking away, turning your concentration instead to the plate of food sat in front of you.

———

Natasha’s office is very nice. That’s your first thought when you enter through the door, guided by her hand on the base of your spine. There are a few wide windows on one wall, white shutters open to give a view of the lake just down a grassy hill. Her desk sits in one corner, a plush vibrant chair close by, then across the way, a small couch. There are shelves littered with both plants and framed pictures, most depicting some sort of bible verse.

You sit yourself down on the sofa while Natasha settles in her chair beside her desk, pulling out a notebook as she turns to face you. There’s an exchange of pleasantries as she explains exactly how these private sessions will go and how anything you say is entirely confidential. You nod, sitting rather folded in on yourself, uncertainty still coursing through your body.

“So Y/N,” Natasha says eventually, crossing her legs over the other. “To start off, why don’t you tell me a little bit about the first time you experienced homosexual tendencies.”

The request is one that leaves you stumbling a little. “Oh I- well…” You swallow, landing on the same response you’d had every time your parents had suggested the idea. “I’m not actually gay. Everyone just thinks that I am.”

Natasha’s face changes, taking on a soft but curious expression. “And why do you say that?”

“Well I’m not,” you reply. “I don’t- I don’t like girls. I have a boyfriend.”

That fact alone seemed enough to you for this whole endeavour to be needless. You didn’t like girls, couldn’t like them. You and your boyfriend had been going strong for over two years. He was handsome, funny, and you were sure you loved him. Even if you did feel slightly disgusted every time his lips touched yours…

“Listen Y/N,” Natasha says, her voice calm. “I know this whole experience can seem a little daunting but we’re here to help you, okay?” She smiles softly, the intention of her words feeling truthful. “But the first step of your journey needs to be your admittance to your problem.”

It isn’t that you don’t feel comfortable telling Natasha about your problem, in fact you actually feel a strange warmth in your stomach whenever she talks to you, but in your mind, there was no problem to begin with. “I’m not gay.”

Natasha sighs at your answer. She adjusts herself in her seat, her soft gaze looking back at you. “Think about it like this; homosexuality is like a disease. These thoughts weave their way into your mind, changing your behaviour.” The redhead raises a set of perfect brows. “But we can’t begin to heal if we don’t have a proper diagnosis. Can’t administer the right treatment if we can’t admit we’re ill, right?”

Her analogy isn’t lost on you, somewhat similar to something you’d heard your pastor say back at your home church. “Yeah��I guess that makes sense.”

“Now what you’re experiencing can be fixed,” Natasha continues. “I’ve seen it fixed many times before. You can heal Y/N, break away from this and find the light of our good lord.” With his name, Natasha glances up to the cross hanging on the wall beside you. Your eyes follow too. “Don’t you want that?”

You turn back to the woman, your voice sounding small. “Of course I do.”

Natasha smiles. “That’s good.” She rearranges herself again, adjusting to hold her notebook and pen better. “Now, could you maybe tell me first time you can remember ever having thoughts about other women?”

“I don’t-I haven’t,” you stumble. “I don’t think about them like that.”

Like that. It was a phrase you’d repeated like a mantra in your head. You didn’t want a girlfriend, you didn’t want a girl to kiss you. You thought about girls the same way everyone else did. Sure, sometimes your eyes would fall to their ass when they walked to the front of class, or perhaps you got a bit hot and bothered in the changing rooms before gym, maybe even your favourite movie scene was the one where all the girls would go to the beach and play in the water. But that was what everyone else thought too…right?

“Alright,” Natasha says, sighing again. “I can see you’re really struggling with this, but that’s okay. I’m here to help you.” She smiles. “How about we take a little look at your family history, hm? See if that can get things kickstarted for us?”

You spend the rest of your session talking about your family. Natasha asks about extended members, questioning about any problems there may be down your blood line. But as far as you know, it all comes up clean, your entire family the same good Christian folks you’ve always known them to be.

Finding nothing of interest, Natasha moves on to talk about your childhood. She asks about your time at school, how long you’d attended church, what sort of friends you had. It’s all scribbled down on the notebook in her hand as you list off answers, all the perfect idiom of what a good Christian girl should be.

By the end of your session, you’ve spoke about almost everything that’s led you up to where you are now. Natasha asks again about your feelings towards women, trying to compare the reasons your parents sent you here to real acts of homosexuality. But all in all, it’s no use. At the end of the hour, you’re still in denial, refusing any accusation of your alleged problem. Thankfully, Natasha doesn’t seem angry, still smiling softly as you leave her office. She send you away with an assignment to think about what could be your ‘root’, what she terms the initial source of your unholy thoughts, determined once you figure this out, it will begin your journey to sanctuary.

———

The next few days pass by without much excitement. You begin to settle into your lessons, listening as a few ex-members of the program give speeches of their experiences, or as Steve talks about how God can help give meaning to your life. There are group therapy sessions you attend, though mostly sit quietly through, but listen while others talk about their own experiences and thoughts. It’s in them you notice a certain person who seems to stare at you from across the room. You try to avoid making eye contact but it seems each time you glance over, Wanda’s stare is trained on you.

Following what Natasha had said when you first arrived, you tried to stick to Kate’s side as much as possible, avoiding the other girl who seemed to look at you more often than not. When you weren’t in lessons you could avoid her, instead hanging around with Kate and her friends in the recreational spaces, sometimes watching one of the approved DVDs that lay beneath the TV. At meals, your group sits together, always saying your prayers before eating your food. But it seems even there you can’t escape the strange brunette, always catching her stare from across the room. It’s only in bible study, on the day that marks a week since your arrival, that you actually get to speak to her again.

Kate was sick today. She’d caught a head cold, presumably from her parents who came to visit her at the weekend. You had also had a visit, your mother and father asking every possible question about your stay and how you were finding camp. The visit had went well, but now a few days later you were left with no mentor to guide you throughout your day. It isn’t too much of a worry in your mind though, the layout and scheduling of the camp already becoming a familiar routine to your body. But what you aren’t used to, is a certain strange individual sitting in the seat where your mentor usually sat.

You don’t notice it is Wanda at first. Feeling the body slide against yours on the bench, your first thought is perhaps that Kate has made a miraculous recovery. But when you turn to face the individual and are met with piercing green eyes, you are certainly even more surprised. “Um,” you fumble, looking back at the brunette as you try to stumble for words. “That’s Kate’s seat.”

Wanda raises a brow, her head spinning to look around the room before it returns to you. “I don’t see her.” She smirks. “Besides, no seating arrangements, right?”

Technically she is correct. There is nothing actually stopping her from sitting beside you apart from your slight aversion to interacting with her. You slide your body away a few inches to the right, shifting away from the touch Wanda had initiated as she sat down a little to close. The brunette seems to notice, glancing down at the gap now settled between you, but she doesn’t say anything about it, instead just looking up at you as she flashes a set of white teeth. “So Y/N,” she begins, rolling your name easily over her tongue. “Where are you from?”

“Not far,” you reply, still inclined to politeness even with your anxiety around the interaction. You elaborate further, telling her the name of your town just two hours north of the camp.

Wanda hums at your response then crosses her legs on the bench. You try not to notice the way her rolled skirt flashes a pair of smooth pale legs. “I’m from down south,” she says. “Further than you, though. About six hours. My parents only come to visit about once a month.”

You met her eye as you try to think of a response, but before you can, you’re being interrupted. Reverend Steve calls out at the front of the class, silencing everyone so that he can begin calling the register. As names echo out across the room, you and Wanda’s conversation dies, but the soft warmth emanating from her body close to yours, does not leave for the rest of the lesson.

Having quit bible study over three years ago, you were a little worried you wouldn’t be able to keep up, but as Kate had told you last week, some of these kids had never even been to church, so the pace was definitely slow enough for you to follow along. The story Steve told today was one you knew rather well actually, one of the most prominent ones you could recall from your early teens. Still, you pay the upmost attention throughout the entire time he talks, eyes trained on his figure at the front of the classroom. What makes that a little difficult however, is the girl sat right beside you.

Wanda is easily distracted you notice quickly, constantly fidgeting with the pen in her hand - your pen actually, borrowed by the brunette when she claimed she had forgotten her own. You sit a little in shock as she casually graffitis the open bible sat upon the desk in front of her, mindlessly drawing squiggles and random shapes into the margin. You try your best to ignore her antics but it’s a little hard when she accidentally tosses her pen across the desk, following a failed attempt to spin it around her fingers. It lands over on your side, just to the right of your own bible. You go to reach for it to hand back to her but it seems she’s already moving before you can even get the chance.

Her body lifts slightly from the bench, stretching out across the table with one arm for her lost pen. As she does, her chest is brought closer to your face. Your eyes fall on the black cross hanging around her neck, then suddenly dip lower, catching the area of her shirt where her buttons are undone further than they should be. There’s the briefest of moments where your eyes linger there, passing over the ever so slightly visible cleavage that swells on her chest, but it’s less than seconds later you’re darting away. Wanda eventually picks her pen back up, after what feels like an eternity, and pulls back in her chair. You glance momentarily over at her, then quickly return to the bible open in front of you, trying your best to follow along with the passage Steve reads aloud while ignoring the strange sensation that has settled in your lower stomach.

———

Camp isn’t quite the way you imagined it to be. Before you arrived, you thought it would be entirely awful, like a prison only with more…God. But for most of your experience, it just feels like you’re back in school. Although, now your lessons about maths or science are replaced by those about God and the way into his heart. Just over two weeks in, you’ve picked up the swing of things quite nicely, falling into an easy routine as you move through the services and lessons with ease. The one thing you just can’t quite seem to grasp is the understanding of why you’re here in the first place.

You’ve had three private sessions now with Natasha, each of them as feeble at finding a change as the last. You’re still not ready to admit your problem, as Natasha puts it, reluctant to find the issue within yourself. But as you’ve said since before you even came, it’s a simple fact you aren’t gay. Natasha seems determined in her ways to make you see something different.

She’s handed you a book, walking out from your last session. The title reads, ‘My Sexuality and Me: Finding the Root of Homosexual Tendencies’. You’re tasked with reading it before your next session in hopes it might finally help you understand your own thoughts. For now, however, it has to wait. Leaving your session, you go up to the dorm to drop it by your bed, taking just a moment before you have to head to your next organised activity.

The camp helps run on a set of scheduled chores that the members have to carry out. It’s on a rota, something Kate had shown you on your very first day, and changes each week. There’s everything from weed picking to cleaning dishes, all work that helps to keep the camp in shape for everyone staying there. Reverend Steve mentioned something about the work ethic helping everyone be grateful for what the lord had given them.

You have to go down to check the rota, forgetting what was scheduled for you this week. Most of the others are already dotted around the camp doing their chores, apparently your one-on-one session running over slightly and causing you to be a little late. You make your way down the stairs to the main room where the rota is located, pinned into a notice board on the wall. But as you turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs, you notice that you are in fact, not alone.

Wanda turns almost immediately when you round the corner. She’s stood up against the notice board, back resting upon the wall with one foot lifted against it. A smile appears on her face as you come into view, her teeth shining around the piece of pink bubblegum she chews. “Hey, princess.”

You try not to scoff at the name - an endearment the brunette had coined after seeing you one night writing in your diary about your boyfriend, claiming you were like a locked away princess longing for her prince to come save her. You’d rolled your eyes at her comment at the time, and had to deal with its return each time you’d bumped into her in the past week. Now, you try to ignore it as you walk past her and stare up at the notice board trying to find the chore schedule. However, Wanda is speaking again before you even get the chance to locate it.

“Looks like it’s you and me this week.” You glance over at her, watching as a pink bubble forms at her lips. You want to ignore her teasing, looking back to the board to locate where you would be stationed, but when your eyes fall upon the schedule, you realise she is right. Written on the notice board, right below the date of the beginning of the week is your and Wanda’s name, then below it; house duty.

You turn back to look at her, a pair of green eyes glinting your way. For a moment you think there’s some kind of mistake. After all, you had always been with Kate before. But then, not far away from yours is indeed Kate’s name written, not on house duty, but on pantry organisation.

Wanda smirks as she rolls the gum in her mouth, eyes fixated on you as she blows another bubble. When it pops, she finally speaks again. “You’ve never done house duty, have you?”

She’s right. You’re in unfamiliar territory and you don’t have your usual mentor to help guide you. “No,” you reply simply, gently shaking your head.

Wanda breathes out a laugh, throwing her head back slightly as she drops her leg from the wall. “Come on, princess,” she says teasingly, walking to close the gap between you. “I’ll guide you.”

Her hand is reaching for yours before you can protest against it. Soft skin slips into yours, gripping hold and quickly dragging you down the corridor. You stumble slightly, surprised by the whole encounter but Wanda doesn’t seemed fazed. She simply pulls you along the hall like a lost puppy. When your brain restarts from the initial shock, you look down at the way your fingers are grasped between hers. It’s a simple interaction at its core, an innocuous hand hold as she shows you the way to go. You’d done the same thing with your own friends back home many of times, but something about this one feels a little different. Something about the way her soft skin is warm against yours creates an odd fuzz in your head.

“Here we are,” Wanda announces, suddenly dropping your hand. You try not to think about the way it now feels cold as you watch her reach for a door handle. It opens to a cupboard, full of what looks like cleaning supplies. “We basically just dust everything,” the brunette continues, turning back to look at you. “Just dust and vacuum the floors in every room in the house. Oh- but not the bathroom, someone else will be doing those.”

You find yourself nodding, the task seeming simple enough. You’d dusted plenty of times at home, this couldn’t be any different.

Wanda lets out another laugh, seemingly at your immediate obedience to follow through with your task. “Alright, princess,” she says, cracking her gum. She reaches in to the cupboard, picking up a cloth and a bottle of disinfect spray. “I’ll do upstairs, you do downstairs?”

There isn’t much room for objection even if you had any, Wanda already beginning to walk away with the cloth thrown over one of her shoulders. You reach down to grab similar materials, standing back up to watch her figure moving down the corridor. “Stop calling me that!” You call out, but the girl is gone before your sentence is even finished, the protest seemingly falling on deaf ears. A sigh escapes your lips as you close the cupboard door, determined to just ignore the other girl while you begin your designated chore.

You start with the class rooms, wiping each desk with the spray and then dusting the other surrounding surfaces. You quickly find nothing was too dirty, the uphold from the other members ensuring the work wasn’t too difficult. You move next to the dining hall, then the recreational spaces, your cloth picking up any small specks of dust that have come to rest on the furniture and surfaces. When you’ve wiped down each room, you return to the cupboard for the vacuum you’d spied earlier. It’s older than the one you have at home but easy enough to work, quickly making light work of vacuuming the entire bottom floor.

It’s probably half an hour later when you finish, at least that’s the guess you make without a watch. You tidy away the cleaning supplies back into the cupboard before doing a quick inspection of everything to make sure you haven’t missed anything. Satisfied everything is clean, you turn your attention to your missing task partner. You haven’t seen Wanda once, barely even heard her moving upstairs. So, devoid of what else to do, you decide to head up to check if she needed any help.

You check a few rooms before you find her, the closest spaces absent of her presence. It’s only when you open the door to the girls dormitory that you finally see her. Except, she’s not cleaning like you expected her to be, in fact the cloth is entirely disregarded on the bedside table. Instead, Wanda sits with her back against the headrest of her bed, legs crossed over the top of her floral sheets and a magazine sat across her lap.

The door almost slams behind you as you catch eye of her, shock and repel taking you over. “You’re supposed to be cleaning!”

Wanda’s eyes pick up as she hears you yell, meeting your stare across the room. A smirk appears on her face, her expression seeming very amused by your sudden entrance. “Believe me, what I’m doing is much more enjoyable.”

You scowl back, annoyed by the fact you’d just spent the last half hour cleaning the house while she had been sitting up here doing nothing for who knows how long. If you were more argumentative, you would think of something to say in retaliation, some quick quip to get back at her for being lazy. But you’d never been very good at arguing, never very good at holding your temper. So instead you simply hold your tongue as you walk further in the room, watching Wanda as she stared back at you. Suddenly, your eyes fall to the paper in her hand, reminded of how similar this situation felt to the first time you’d met her. Like then, the same curiosity comes over you as to what she might be looking at, particularly how it could be classified as contraband. With that in mind, the next words you utter are not with anger anymore, but instead interest. “What are you reading?”

“Oh this?” Wanda replies, closing the magazine and holding it up briefly. She smirks your way, the grin wide against her cheeks. “Playboy.”

The word was unfamiliar to your mind. “What?”

Wanda’s brow raise. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of a playboy magazine.”

You notice in that moment she’d lost her gum from earlier. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if she’d stuck it under a piece of furniture somewhere. But still trying to focus on the conversation at hand, you simply shake your head in response.

Wanda looks surprised, her brows raising even further. You think she’s going to jest you further, make fun of you for not recognising the name of her treasured magazine, but instead she simply extends it out. “Look.”

You move slowly, slightly hesitant to approach. You know Natasha had confiscated something like this from Wanda before and you didn’t presume this new magazine was much different from that previously banned material. Still, your curiosity seems to be getting the better of you because you slowly sit down on Wanda’s bed, your legs hanging off the side whilst the brunette crosses hers. Against the covers of the bed, Wanda slides the magazine between the two of you, opening it to a random page. What is plastered over it causes your eyebrows to raise completely in shock.

Women. But not just any pictures of women. The magazine was covered in dozens of images of women in differing stages of nudity. Immediately when you saw it, you felt the need to pull your eyes away, knowing that these kind of images were most definitely not the kind you should be looking at. But at the same time, it was like you couldn’t stop. There are about four models across the two pages scattered with different images, sometimes wearing sets of black lacy lingerie, sometimes wearing nothing at all. Theres a strange sensation bubbling in your gut, an odd warmth spreading through your mind as you look down at the pictures. The pure immorality of it all is enough for you to shake your head viscously.

“This is-we’re not-you shouldn’t have that.” You stutter, the images imprinted in your brain making it harder to focus and find the right words. You’ve never seen anything like that before, never looked at a woman’s body so out in the open. Now you could see why Natasha had quickly confiscated Wanda’s magazine and hidden it away from your view. “How do you even have this?”

The brunette seems utterly unfazed by the material in front of you. More so, her face looks amused at your alarmed reaction. “I steal them out of my brother’s backpack when he comes to visit,” she replies casually, as if this is something she’s been doing for months. “He’s pretty oblivious so he never notices, always thinks he lost them. Besides, even if he did know, he couldn’t tell my parents. He’s not allowed them either.”

While Wanda explains, you have to fight against yourself to hold eye contact. In your peripheral, you can still see the open page of nude women, restraining yourself from your body’s seemingly natural instinct to look down. “This isn’t right,” you reply, shaking your head. “We shouldn’t be looking at that.”

Wanda scoffs, looking displeased at your disapproval. She reaches out for the magazine, pulling it back into her own lap as she glances down at the images. Then, she’s looking back up at you, face inquisitive. “You’ve really never seen one before?”

You’re not sure exactly where she thinks you were going to find such a thing, but you’re certain you’ve never seen anything of the sort before. “No,” you reply sternly, shaking your head once more.

Wanda laughs to herself, rolling her eyes. “You call yourself a lesbian and you don’t even know what a playboy is.”

Her words cause a deep frown to appear on your brow, your voice raising to almost a shout. “I’m not a lesbian.”

A perfect brow raises in your direction as Wanda looks at you. Her expression seems particularly amused. “No? How’d you end up here then?”

The question hits you hard, the same thing you’d been pondering to yourself over the last few weeks of your stay. “I’m not gay,” you reply harshly. “Everyone just thinks that I am.”

“And why do you think they think that?”

Wanda’s eyes meet your own as she speaks, the question another one familiar to your own mind. “I don’t know,” you shrug. “Stupid reasons.” You think back to the conversation you’d had with your parents, the first time any of this had even cropped up into your mind. “A few posters I had up in my room, a couple songs on my playlist. Oh, and I told my boyfriend I don’t like kissing him. Which is totally stupid. I’m pretty sure he’s just really bad at it.”

A chuckle emanates from Wanda’s throat. You’re not quite sure why, watching as she leans in closer to you. When she speaks again, her face is barely inches from your own. “Oh honey, you don’t like kissing him because you like kissing girls.”

“What?” you exclaim, taken aback by her accusation. That couldn’t possibly be right. “No! I don’t! I told you, I’m not a lesbian.”

Wanda smirks, her eyes trained on yours. “Okay, maybe not a lesbian but I bet you’ve thought about a girl while he’s kissing you.”

The idea was entirely preposterous. “No!” you yelled back. “I haven’t!”

But your anger is only met with amusement on Wanda’s side, her smirk only deepening as she leans back on the bed. “You’re cute when you lie.”

The words have you recoilling, the inclination behind them picked up on yet rejected by your brain. And yet, you could feel a warmth spreading to your cheeks, embarrassment flushing in.

“Have you ever kissed a girl?”

You snap on to Wanda as her question rings out, watching as she casually slides her magazine back behind her bedside table. “No,” you reply firmly. “Of course not.”

“Then how do you know you don’t like it?” The brunette sits up again, leaning in closer to you. Her eyes meet your own, a strange shadow seemingly passing over them. She watches you for a moment, in almost unreadable expression moving across her face. “Surely theres only one way to find out.”

Wanda’s voice is low, barely above a whisper. You find you’re too busy watching her lips to notice her leaning in even closer, face barely centimetres from your own. Suddenly, you pull back. “What are you doing?”

Wanda doesn’t miss a beat, continuing to lean in even as you pull away. One of her hands comes to rest on your thigh, fingers grazing the material of your pleated skirt. “It’s okay,” she says lowly. “I’m just trying to help you.”

Her advance doesn’t stop, face moving closer and close towards yours. It’s only when she’s almost touching you, you realise she’s trying to kiss you. “No,” you say quickly, pushing her back by the shoulders. “We can’t do that. It’s not right.”

Wanda sighs, relaxing her posture a little. She shifts in the bed, eyes still trained on you. For a moment she simply looks over your face before that smirk appears once more. “Maybe…” she says, angling her head. “But isn’t that the whole reason we’re here?” The question slightly throws you for a loop, your confusion allowing Wanda to move closer to you once more. “Don’t do you want to be a good girl and finish the program?”

The way her breath fans across your face sends an odd shiver down your neck, goosebumps appearing on your arms. Her choice of words seems to form an odd feeling in your stomach, but you try your best to brush it off, nodding your head in response to the question. You did want to finish the program. You wanted to be able to go back home to your family.

Wanda smiles at your answer, her head angling to the side as her voice takes a caring tone. “Well we both know what the first step is…You have to admit to yourself you like girls.” She leans in closer, her eyes briefly flashing down to your lips. “You can’t heal if you don’t admit you have a problem.”

Her words mirror those of Natasha’s, the same thing she’d been trying to get through to you for weeks. But you can’t help but fight the part of your brain that recalls everything you’ve been taught about attraction. “This isn’t right,” you say quietly. “You have to stop.” And yet you find yourself making no move to pull away from the girl whose face sits mere inches from your own.

“As I said, I’m just trying to help you.” Wanda’s voice is calm, understanding. “Once you realise you like girls, you can move on with the rest of the program.” Then the brunette shrugs a shoulder. “Or hey, you maybe hate it and realise you actually are straight.”

It makes some sense in your mind but you’re still hesitant, knowing that what Wanda was even suggesting was against everything you wanted to believe in. “I don’t think that we should-“

“Just don’t think.” Wanda cuts you off before you can finish, and before you can even process what’s happening, she closes the final gap between you. Her lips meet yours, soft and warm against your skin. It’s gentle but rough at the same time, your eyes fluttering closed. Then immediately, as the warmth leaves, they snap back open.

Wanda’s staring back at you, face smiling. “How’d that feel?” You notice that her eyes look a little blown out, pupils wide against the sea of green. “Feels good right?”

Suddenly you realise what’s just happened, every part of your upbringing screaming inside your head. “What? No!” you reply, flustering. “No, it didn’t feel good. It felt wrong.”

But some part of you creeps up in the back of your mind, a part you recognised and yet wanted to snuff out more than anything, a part that knew you were lying.

And apparently, Wanda can see right through to that part too. “I can see it on your face, honey,” she says, voice now teasing. Her eyes trace over your features and you wonder what exactly gave it away. There isn’t much time to think however, as before you know it, Wanda’s leaning in again. Her lips meet yours, a hand sliding to your thigh once more.

“Stop,” you reply, pulling away. “This isn’t right. We’re not supposed to-“

Wanda cuts you off again. “Don’t think about what we’re supposed to do. Think about what feels right.”

You notice again the wildness of her pupils, only for a moment, before she leans in again. Your eyes close on impact, her lips crashing into yours in another kiss. Only this time you instinctively lean into it, pursing your lips against hers. Wanda pushes back, her mouth opening just slightly to take in your lips and you find yourself leaning in. There’s a reminiscent taste of bubblegum, sweet on your tongue as her saliva begins to mix with your own. The hand on your thigh tightens, another placed on to the side of your face. For a second you don’t think about anything other than just how good this moment feels.

It’s seconds later Wanda pulls away, her touch lingering but her lips missing. You find your eyes opening, gazing back at the smirking brunette staring back at you. “It feels pretty good doesn’t it?”

You’re lost for words, sure of your answer to her question but so reluctant to admit it. Wanda smiles back at you, her grip on your leg slowly raising up, ever so slightly bunching the fabric of your skirt. Before you can formulate a response, she’s moving in towards you. Her face disappears into the crook of your neck, her warm breath fanning out across your skin before her lips attach. Without thinking, your head falls back, only giving the brunette more access to nip at the skin of your neck. Your eyes feel heavy, an odd sensation pooling deep in your body. “I can make you feel so good…”

The words reverberate across your skin, sending shivers down your neck and across your chest. A small whine exits your throat, unintended by any part of you but seemingly drawn out by the gentle touches of both Wanda’s lips and her fingers dancing across your skin. “Wanda…”

The brunette slowly pulls back, her face rising to meet with yours. Theres a look in her eye you can’t identify. “You’re already a sinner now, right?” she says, voice husky. “No harm in twisting the knife.”

There’s a moment where you want to turn away, to listen to the rational part of your brain that tells you this is all wrong. But right now there’s only one thing you can truly think of; just how good it felt with Wanda’s lips against your own.

Your hands grab at the brunettes shoulders as you pull her in, the pair of you colliding before you even recognise what you’re doing. The kiss comes fast, clashing together in your desperation for the girl to stop talking and just to feel her against you again. Wanda smirks against your lips, humming an amused noise before she’s all over you.

Her hands find purchase in your hair, entangling in the strands at the nape of your neck as she pulls you in closer to her body. Her kiss becomes fiercer, control quickly being regained as she presses her lips into yours. A small hum of your own escapes as she presses her tongue into your mouth, quickly taking over as you simply let her in without protest. And in that moment a thought crashes over your mind; gay or not, your boyfriend was definitely bad at kissing. Furthermore, Wanda was very, very good.

Your hands grips slightly at her shoulders as the brunette domineers the kiss, her lips almost possessive against your own as her hand clutches as your cheek, manipulating your position to give her full control. You feel her other hand begin to drift further up your legs, pushing your skirt up to your hips before climbing even higher. Delicate touches grace over your stomach, then softly against your chest. You release a small whine as Wanda nips at your lip with her teeth, at the same time, reaching to unbutton the top clasp of your shirt. Her fingers work faster than your mind can even process, too distracted by the touch of her lips to notice her quick work of opening your entire shirt. It’s only when she reaches to touch your chest, a gasp of realisation releases from your throat.

Wanda however, continues without missing a beat. As you gasp, she lets her lips leave your own, reappearing quickly on the side of your neck. Her hand tightens around the skin beneath it on your chest, fingers squeezing around your bra and grabbing hold of your breast beneath it. Her soft kisses continue to move lower as you whine softly, her touch against your chest sending shivers down your body.

Then, her mouth turns more aggressive, resting just at the curve of your breast she begins to suck on the flesh harder, nipping with her teeth before smoothing it over with her tongue. You whine softly, the new sensation novel to your body but so intrinsically intuned. For the first time your eyes open, looking down to where the brunette resides again your chest. You notice the way your necklace rests between the wisps of her hair, a silver cross that you’d worn every day for years. The image is enough to remind you of how wrong this is, how under no circumstances you should be letting a girl kiss you or touch your body like this. But before you can fully wrap your mind around the forbidden nature of the act, a new sensation is stripping a small gasp from your chest. Wanda’s fingers move back to your thighs, slipping up the exposed skin before coming to rest on your underwear underneath.

“Wanda…” you breathe heavily, worked up by her touch and yet knowing how wrong it all was. You shouldn’t be doing this, any of it, especially what Wanda was insinuating as she slipped her hand beneath your skirt.

“Shh, it’s okay.” The brunette replies with ease, her voice low and sensual. Her eyes raise back up to your face, meeting your gaze with a blown out expression. “Let me make you feel good, Y/N.”

And with that, her mouth is on yours again. Her kiss is enough to distract you from forming a response, eyes closing as the sweet taste of bubblegum coats your tongue once more. Then you feel her fingers again, pressing lightly against the material of your underwear, tracing the lines of your folds underneath. Small noises travel from your mouth to hers, receptive to her touch, but it’s when she presses her thumb to your clothed clit, a moan finally slips out.

The situation is entirely new to you, never having been touched by anyone this way before. You and your boyfriend had always said you’d wait till marriage, just like you knew you should. But here with Wanda, her lips against yours and her fingers tracing your most delicate areas, the endorphins flowing through your brain are enough to say to hell with it all.

You push harder into the kiss, grasping hold of Wanda’s shoulders as you try to gain the upper hand. But the brunette is much more experienced than you and doesn’t let up easily. Her hands move to your own shoulders and quickly begin to push the open shirt from them. Her lips remain on yours, strong and fierce, until the shirt has been slipped from your body. Then Wanda pulls away, her eyes drifting down over you for just a moment before she’s grabbing at you again. She spins you around, pulling you fully on to the bed as her hands press your shoulders down into the mattress. In a swift movement, she’s kicking off her shoes to the floor, then pulling yours off too. She comes to settle on top of you, knees placed either side of your legs as she looks down. Her hands are quick as she unbuttons her own shirt, tossing it to the side. Then, she’s moving to unclip her bra.

You feel your eyes widen slightly as Wanda’s bare chest is revealed to you. Before the magazine she’d shown you minutes before, it’s the first time you’ve looked at another woman so nude. And in that moment, despite what your brain is screaming out to you, you can’t help but think about how good she looks.

Wanda seems to notice your staring, her face pulling an entirely amused expression as she looks down at you. “I don’t see why you deprive yourself of this, Y/N,” she says, beginning to lean in. Her lips meet your neck, sucking gently as you feel her fingers slip behind your shoulder blades, seeking the clasp of your bra. “Can something truly be so wrong if it brings you so much pleasure?”

You try to reply to her question, brain racking all of the answers you know you should be saying. But then her lips are sucking at your neck and you’re arching into her touch, once again taken over entirely by the flush of pleasure underneath her control. Theres a release against your chest as Wanda unclips your bra, tossing it easily to the side along with her own. “So gorgeous,” the brunette murmurs, one hand coming to grab at your chest. Then her lips are on you again, kissing at the skin around your nipple. When she pulls it into her mouth, teeth grazing over the bud, a needy whine erupts in your throat. Wanda smirks against you, breathing out a laugh. “So sensitive.”

Her mouth continues to work around the skin of your chest, before you notice her fingers crawling over your stomach. They take hold of your skirt, pressing it up to bunch at your waist. Then Wanda is moving away, fingers quickly hooking themselves under the sides of your underwear as she begins to slide them down.

For a sudden moment, you’re acutely aware of what’s going on, of how you are quite literally in a dorm at a camp where this type of behaviour was attempted to be corrected. Not to mention the rule of any sort of fraternisation being entirely banned. “Wait,” you say, looking down at the brunette between your legs, suddenly afraid of what you were about to do. “I don’t think-“

“I told you to stop thinking,” Wanda replies, eyes snapping to yours. She continues to pull your underwear down, throwing them to the floor once they’ve passed your ankles. Before you can say anything more, her lips drown you in a kiss. The sweetness of it all is enough to wipe any of the doubt from your mind, so when Wanda’s hands dip between your legs, you don’t hesitate to let her. Deft fingers run between your folds, teasing you slightly as they brush gently across your clit. You sigh breathily between the breaks of your kiss, Wanda’s touch like electric to your skin.

“God, you’re so wet, Y/N,” the brunette whispers, pulling her face away to smirk down at you. “Is this all for me?”

She’s teasing you, making you think about how hesitant you’d been to this whole idea, and then about how receptive you were under her touch. But you don’t want to think about any of that, don’t want to remind yourself of how wrong this all was. All you want is for her to keep going. “Wanda…” you whine, squirming under her as her fingers teased your entrance. “Please.”

You don’t even truly know what you’re asking for her to do, all you know is you need her. Thankfully, the brunette is proficient in picking up your body’s signals. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispers, breath fanning across your face. “I know what you need, princess. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

It’s only seconds later you feel her middle finger plunge into you. You let out a loud gasp at the contact, feeling her finger begin to move inside of you like nobody’s had before. Her name drips off your tongue, laced with pleasure, as her head moves back to your chest, tongue playing with your hardened nipple. Theres a mark resting there, red and throbbing below the skin of your cross. In the heat of the moment, you hands reach out to grasp the back of her head, intertwining with her hair as you feel her add another finger inside you.

The pleasure rolls of you in waves, Wanda’s touch like a skilled professional highly attuned to draw sweet subtle moans from your mouth. Her thumb circles your clit as she continues to pump her fingers inside of you, curling them to reach that spot that sends shivers up your spine.

“Fuck, Wanda,” you murmur, nails lightly scratching at her bare back.

The brunette chuckles, raising her head from your chest. “Now that’s not a very holy word, is it Y/N?” She smirks, and for a moment her touch is gone. You whine, chasing her fingers as they leave your needy core. Theres a second she lifts her weight and you see her reaching to remove her own underwear, then she’s back on you, this time sitting against just on of your thighs. You can feel her wetness against your skin, a soft moan escaping as she makes contact. “I wanna cum with you, okay?” she says, eyes meeting yours. You nod eagerly but your reply is swallowed up by a low cry as her fingers suddenly sink back into you.

Her speed picks up as she begins to curl inside you once again, a soft stream of curses leaving your lips at the unexplainable pleasure of her touch. You can feel Wanda begin to grind on to your thigh as she works, soft gasps escaping from her lips each time her clit brushes beautifully against your skin. She showers your praises as you whimper noises of your own, breaths heavy and moans unrestrained as she brings you closer and closer to that edge.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, princess,” Wanda husks over you. “Such a pretty girl for me.”

Her words only add to the building feeling in your lower stomach, that familiar coil building from the times you’d reached down to pleasure yourself after your parents had went to bed - not that you would tell anyone that.

“Please, Wanda,” you whimper, back arching into her. “I’m close-please…”

One hand continues to pump inside you, paced perfectly as her curled fingers reached that spot with each thrust. The other come up to play with a perked nipple, the bud rolling though Wanda’s fingers as helpless whines spill from your mouth. “Just a minute, princess,” Wanda replies, her breathing heavy. “I’m almost there.”

Surprisingly, her pace doesn’t falter as she too climbs closer to her orgasm. Her moans grow louder, her cunt grinding harder against your thigh as she continues to swirl your clit at the perfect speed. It’s when you finally tense the muscles in your leg, that she finally falls apart.

You feel her soak your thigh, gasping desperately as she cums. You watch mesmerised as her face screws up, her jaw hanging loose as she rides out her orgasm on your leg, drunk on pleasure. It only adds to the bundling arousal pooling in your lower stomach.

“Cum, pretty girl” Wanda whispers, still coming down from her high. “Cum for me.”

And you do. With her fingers curling just right inside you, you finally tip over the edge. Your orgasm comes hard, crashing over you in a tidal wave as Wanda slowly circles your clit, guiding you through it. A guttural moan elicits from your throat, Wanda’s name lacing your tongue. That pleasant buzz takes over your mind as you feel her fingers slow, riding out your high, drunk on her touch. You’re on the brink of overstimulation when she finally removes her hand entirely. Eventually your eyelids flutter open, heavy from exhaustion, and you spy the brunette with her fingers deep isnide her mouth, her tongue lapping up every last bit of your arousal.

“So sweet,” she murmurs above you, both of your minds still fuzzy from the resounding pleasure. Eventually, the brunette moves herself away from your thigh, whining slightly as her core is exposed to the cool air. Her body flops down next to yours, shoulders touching as you lay cramped in the single cot. Your heavy breaths are the only sound for a long while, loud in the silence of the dormitory. Then finally, when you’ve managed to right your body again, your face turns to look at the girl beside you. Wanda is already staring back, green eyes wide as a huge smirk settles across her lips. She looks you up and down, her grin only widening as she husks, “You still wanna believe you’re not into girls?”.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fic #marvel

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clockwayswrites · 2 months

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Masked in Amity

CW: Sam doesn't come off great in this, but not Sam bashing. She just has a lot of growing up to do still and knee jerk reacts badly. (I also don't want to listen to any Sam bashing please and ty.)

Sam’s room still looked the same as always. Danny supposed that’s what happened when someone moved out for college but still came home again— especially to a home like Sam’s. There were only a few posters, a few photos, and a knickknack or two that had changed between high school and now. Danny sat on the edge of the bed like always.

“So how’s school doing?” Danny asked into the awkward silence. Silences never used to be awkward between them, or was that just looking back with rose colored glasses?

“Ugh,” Sam gripped and flopped back onto her bed next to Danny. “Why would you even ask me that? You know I hate it.”

“Because it’s what you’re doing right now? It’s a huge part of your life, you can’t just… avoid it.”

“Watch me,” Sam said, bitterly. Her snarled lips looked weird without the dark purple lipstick. “I’m going to get my stupid law degree my parents are paying for and work at some stupid corporate firm Dad has connections at and when my trust fund has made enough in interest I’m going to quite and go open a non-profit and sue all those fuckers I was forced to work for over how they’ve fucked up the environment.”

“Okay,” Danny said. He didn’t want to argue about this. He just hoped this plan worked better than the last three Sam had had before her privilege knocked her down a peg.

“Can I ask about, I don’t know, your time in Chicago at least?”

“Chicago is amazing,” Sam said, wistfully. “Being in Chicago, I mean, I’m sure you know how it is, it really makes it clear how backwater Amity Park is. The things people worry about here are so small compared to what’s out there!”

Danny just hummed in response. He didn’t exactly know what to say to that. It didn’t feel completely wrong, but it wasn’t right either. Worries weren’t a competition like that.

“And the bands!” Sam continued, thankfully changing the topic. “I have got to see so many amazing bands. The local scene alone is amazing and no one knows about them so you can be right up close and a lot of times even talk to the band after. You should come for a show sometime.”

“I can try to,” Danny said. Sam’s music wasn’t usually his thing, but something like that might be fun. It would be different at least. Danny gave her a little smile. “Maybe Tucker could make it out too.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “You know he won’t. When was the last time you talked to him not on the computer or the phone? He’s only here at Christmas when you aren’t.”

“You know how I feel about Christmas, Sam,” Danny said, holding back a sigh. Sure Tucker had been busy lately and that had made him more distant, but he was still one of their trio. “And if we plan something then Tucker can schedule for it. Don’t count him out just because he’s busy.”

“Alright, fine, we can plan something for a bigger show with Tucker,” Sam agreed, “but you still need to come out to something local. They’re really better anyways. We’ll go out to eat first and hit up a bar or three after. I know some really great places— places like you’ve never seen.”

Sam reached up and wrapped her hands around Danny’s neck, pulling him down a little. “It can be a date.”

Something in Danny balked at that. It was an innocent enough comment. Sam and him had dated and then not and then dated again or just had fun together. They’d known each other so long that it was easy to just ebb and flow out of the different levels of a relationship like that.

This time, though, Danny found himself resisting the tide. “Or we can just hang out.”

The almost dreamy smile Sam had crumpled into a frown. “What? I mean, sure, it can, but why? Are you seeing someone?”

“Yes? No? I mean, I’ve been… sleeping with someone, but we’re not dating or anything.”

“That’s okay,” Sam said easily. “I’m not going to make you be exclusive. I don’t want to be either right now; we’re not around each other enough for that and You know that I’ve been sleeping with my roommate sometimes and I’ve met a cute person in study group now too with amazing fingers.”

“No, I know, just…” Danny gave a frustrated noise. Nightwing and him weren’t even close to being exclusive. Someone like Nightwing could have anyone they wanted and with how much he liked sex, Danny was pretty sure Nightwing did have whoever he wanted. Danny was just… convenient for the hero side and Danny didn’t begrudge the other that. It was convenient for Danny too. It was just…

Danny didn’t want to keep living the same cycle with Sam where he was her world for a few weeks or months and then just back to an occasional phone call. He didn’t want to keep being pulled back to Amity Park. Maybe meeting her in Chicago would be different enough, but Sam was still so tied to Amity and always would be by her parent’s money.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this again,” Danny said slowly, feeling the words out as he said them. “Maybe it’s time just to leave us dating in the past?”

Sam dropped her hands and sat up. “Excuse me?”

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just, we’ve tried being together in a lot of different ways and we always end up in the same place.”

“So you want to leave me in the past?”

“No!” Danny said quickly, trying to get ahead of this before Sam spiraled too badly from making assumptions. “I’d love to come to Chicago and see a band with you! Just… not as a date.”

“Because you want to leave that in the past,” Sam snapped and got up off the bed.

Danny scrambled off also.

“That’s not a bad thing. I enjoyed it and I know you did too. Just more, okay, maybe that wasn’t the best phrase? I mean maybe we shouldn’t go down that road again when we know where it’s going to end.”

Sam crossed her arms. That was never a good sign. “Right, because I’m always going to be a dead end, is that it? Not like you who’s off playing hero with the big names?”

“What? What does me being a Titan have to do with this?”

“Don’t play dumb, Danny, we both know you’re not. You left to go be a famous hero and hardly looked back at Amity Park or me or Tucker or your parents. What if the town needed you?”

Danny threw his hands up in the air. “Why would they need me? I destroyed the portal, came to an agreement with Vlad, made sure my parents couldn’t build another working one— it fixed everything!”

“And then left.”

“So I could help other people!”

“Sure it wasn’t so that you could be famous?”

Danny closed his mouth with a clack.

Sam winced at her own words. “Danny…”

“No.” Danny backed up a few steps from her. “No. You don’t get to— you of all people don’t get to come at me like that! I never wanted to be a hero, Sam! You’re the one who said I needed to protect Amity and you were right, sure, but it’s never what I wanted! You wanted it!”

“Danny, no—” Sam reached out for him and Danny stepped back again, hitting the wall.

“Yes you did, Sam! You did or I never would have had to die a second time after your wish! I lost everything again! I don’t have a future like you and Tucker, I just have being a hero. I just have being dead.”

“Come on Danny,” Sam tried. She moved close again, slowly, like Danny was some sort of feral animal.

Maybe he really was just a caged beast.

“I’m just— I better go. I’m just going to go,” Danny said. In a flash of light he was back to being Phantom. He let himself tip back and phase through the wall.

As he left Amity Park behind, he couldn’t help but think it really said something that he was far more comfortable being Phantom these day than Danny.

AN: Here's yous all voted on treat for the day! This comes before Danny showing up at Dick's door, quite upset.

#dp x dc #past Danny/Sam #masked #death defying

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arthenaa · 4 months

Text

UN Village — roommate!mizu x f!reader

synopsis: a glimpse into the life after being 'just' roommates.

content: 18+, nsfw, gay ass sex, gay ass losers, gay gay gay, short domestic glimpses of your life with mizu as your gf slash roommate slash best friend and your cat named nora. can be read as a one shot, you and mizu call each other bon/bonnie as an endearment, she/her pronouns for both reader and mizu.

author's note: this is a compilation of the requests I received from my inbox! namely the ones requesting hcs plus nsfw parts. (to that one anon with a specific request for the nsfw part, know that ill be going along with some of your ideas! will be tweaking it a bit <3) i also have a hc that mizu is well off ... both bc of her father's hard work and that she also has a stable job despite still being in university. anys, enjoy!

parts: blurred lines, mizu as your roommate

Life as a couple wasn't all that different—a realization you've reached after observing your first few months with Mizu together. Aside from the access to overly exaggerated kisses and must-have energy-charging hugs, things were the same as they were before.

Grocery shopping on Saturdays is still a rotational thing, you cook, she cleans—sometimes when both of you feel a little too lazy to cook dinner, take-outs from that diner near 2nd Street are a must. She walks you to class, drives you to wherever you want, and you buy her her favorite tea as a reward for working hard.

If anything, your domestic rituals have been quite rewarding whenever you've come to the realization that yes, Mizu is yours and that you don't have to deal with all the angsty shit that came with having that realization. Everything was a breeze.

Speaking of working hard, Mizu had been quite busy as of late. Always unintentionally locking herself up in her room or getting home late some days. You knew her schedule well enough that this wasn't a result of her academics but of her work. You never knew how Mizu could balance her work and academic life so well but you suppose that's part of what makes her so ... Mizu.

You could see the exhaustion from the way she touches her temple more often or the bouncing of her knee whenever you two plan on working on requirements at the library (the librarian had been lenient with her judgment after the two of you gave her 'sorry' cookies the other day, it was quite funny). You knew that Mizu was getting overwhelmed with whatever she was dealing with at work.

So, as the loving girlfriend that you are, you wanted to give her a time to rest and motivation to overcome whatever block that's hindering her creativity and process in completing her work.

You make careful footsteps towards her room—shushing Nora who mews softly at your feet. You balance the tray to one arm as the other gently reaches to twist the doorknob. The hinges on the wooden door squeak as you push it open, revealing your girlfriend hunched over her desktop. Her room is as simple as it can be, white walls adorned with a few of her framed pictures—some were posters of her favorite bands and films while the others were collages of her favorite moments, captured by a camera she had bought on her first paycheck. You see the infamous cactus you gifted her on her birthday perched on top of her shelves alongside a few books and comics that she collected over the years. The minimalistic feel of her room does bring a calming effect whenever you enter her space (which is why more often than not, sleepovers are in her room than yours). Your attempts to not disturb her work continue due to the noise-canceling headphones pulled over her head. You see Mizu pinch the bridge of her nose, her glasses nudged up before she adjusts them back on her face. Your eyes soften at the view.

Gently placing the tray on her dresser, you make careful steps towards her hunched figure before moving to wrap your arms around her shoulders. She tenses for a moment but at the whiff of your familiar scent, she immediately melts in your touch. You pull away slightly as she pulls her headphones off, placing it on the table before going back to your previous position.

"Hey," You softly murmur, cheek pressed to her temple. She hums at your voice, eyes still trained on her tablet perched on a stand. "How are you doing?"

Mizu twirls her digital pen in her hand—the stiff length of her pen gliding smoothly along her fingers. She nudges your head to acknowledge your presence. "Fine," She says.

You knew Mizu tends to downplay her feelings a lot. It was a common problem you both encountered throughout both your friendship and relationship. She tends to be more service-giving and prioritizes your welfare over her own. While you truly appreciate her attentiveness to your well-being, it does bring concern whenever she says things that don't really resonate with how she looks and feels. You've since learned to grow atoned to her body language—knowing at a glance at her mannerisms and communicating more definitely helps a lot in the long run.

You place a kiss on her temple, hugging her tight as she focuses back on her task. You decide not to push too much on it. "Did you get assigned new work?"

Mizu hums, nodding slightly as she makes quick notes on her tablet. "Yeah. They needed a lot of manpower on this one."

Your arms move back to grab her shoulders, thumbs making circular motions on the area available to you. Mizu sighs at the feeling. "So it's a big project, huh?"

Mizu nods once more before pausing. There's a slight reprieve as you continue to ease the tense muscles on her shoulders. She then turns slightly, eyes looking up at you both in curiosity and gratefulness. "What's up with you?"

You smile down at her, leaning down to place a soft kiss on her lips before turning towards the tray of her favorite food on her dresser. "Got you some food and your favorite tea."

Mizu lightens up at your words, turning in her office chair and pulling you between her legs. She buries her face on your stomach, hands on your hips. "Thank you, Bonnie."

Her words pull a flush from your cheeks—still getting butterflies from her attention. You gently pat the top of her head, making sure not to stress the already messy bun haphazardly tied on a whim. A few strands of her hair escape the hairdo with each gentle slide of your palm on her head. You let out a grumble, hands making their way to pull the tie off her hair. Mizu chuckles at your movements.

"Was I too quiet?" Mizu asks as she feels your hands run through her hair—gathering all the strands with careful swoops. You hum at her response.

"Not really," You respond as you twist her hair in its usual style before beginning to tie it off with her hair tie. "Why?"

Mizu blinks softly, enjoying your ministrations on her head. She yawns. "I don't know. Just worried that I might've been ignoring you or something."

You pause at the last twist of her tie, gently pulling away to take a look at her face. The exhaustion is evident—bags under her eyes, eyes blinking slow, and the slouch on her posture. However, despite it all, her eyes and face remain softened and loving at the sight of you. A soft smile pulls from your lips.

"You haven't," Your hands gently cup her face as you angled it up towards you. "You don't have to worry about a thing, Mizu. Whatever you need, I'll be right here."

She gazes into your eyes, processing your heartfelt words before a genuine smile bursts from her lips. Your heart thunders at its brightness and you can't help but return its intensity.

"I love you." She murmurs, eyes filled with gratitude. You revel in its warmth.

"I love you too."

"Mizu?" You call out to the empty living room, not noticing the familiar raven-haired girl typically lounging in the living space around this time. You knew because Mizu often tends to do her leisure time in the living room where it has an open space and just an overall change of pace in the morning. You had gone out to do the groceries as Mizu did hers last week. You half expected her to be at the same spot when you returned but didn't overthink it. She was probably back at her room or fixing up that clog in the bathroom. You placed your shoes on the side before walking towards the kitchen to drop the grocery bags.

You begin to place the items in their respective places before realizing another equation to the problem. Nora was also nowhere to be found. Your heart speeds up,

"Nora? Mizu?" You call out, placing the bag of fruits down to find you two missing culprits. "Where are you?"

While Mizu was a generally quiet person and Nora being stealthy like a damn mosquito, they often wandered to your presence and so you expected that your girlfriend would call back and Nora's feet would begin to pitter patter its way towards you. There were only a few other options that you could consider where those two disappeared to. First, Mizu must have taken her out for a walk. Nora tends to be restless in the morning and prefers going out when the sun is high and the temperature is just right. Second, probably in Mizu's bedroom—those two tend to nap when you're not in sight, probably because most of the time their energy is just you with 5% of their actual energy. You decide to go with the second option for now.

You make careful steps towards Mizu's room, knocking on the wooden surface before opening the door. The lights are off and the room's spotless. Mizu must be out. You turn towards your room just in case. You're greeted with the bed you made this morning. You scratch your head in thought, confused as to where those two might have gone.

Just as you begin to worry, the sound of the door's security system unlocking through the keypad resounds through the hallway. You make your way towards the living space to see Mizu with an armful of carboard boxes and Nora trailing behind her. They both pause at the sight of you.

"Oh," Mizu blinks at you as if she had been caught sticking her hand somewhere she shouldn't have. You blink back in response. "You're home."

Nora meows in response to your rather unexpected predicament. Your eyes dart from Mizu, to Nora, to the boxes in Mizu's arms.

"... What's that?" You watch as Mizu gently places the items down with a sigh before turning towards you with a sheepish smile.

"I got Nora a tower," She responds hesitantly, gauging your reaction to her response. There's a few moments of silence as you process the information.

You remain speechless. If anything, you were the one who mostly spoils Nora. Having too much similarities to your grumpy looking girlfriend, you couldn't help but coddle the kitty. Mizu on the other hand tends to bond with cat through silent stares or squinting at each other as if they have their own form of communication. It's safe to say that you're quite amused at the fact that Mizu was the one who brought her

A laugh escapes your lips at the thought, watching as Mizu furrows her eyebrows in confusion while Nora simply meows beside her.

"How did you even—" You cover your mouth in an attempt to calm yourself down from the impending laughter. "When did you even get this?"

Mizu rolls her eyes. "I got it last week. When you had class—" She pauses at the sound of your laughter. "Why is this so funny to you?"

You grin at her grumpy attitude. "I just didn't expect that you'll be the one getting her the tower. I thought you settled for the treats?"

Mizu snorts as she settles down on the carpeted floor, pulling one of the smaller boxes towards her. "Since when was I limited to that?"

You grin excitedly, rushing over to her side with ease. Mizu chuckles at your enthusiasm. You place a kiss on her cheek causing your girlfriend to pause and turn her attention towards you.

"That's so hot of you, Bonnie," You coo, utterly enamored by her. Mizu's soften, the corner of her lips upturned.

There's a softened tension between the two of you as Mizu's eyes roam all over your face. There's a mischievous look on her face. "All it takes for me to get between your legs is a cat tower, really?"

You grin wide at her words. You decide to tease back. "Can you blame me? That's wife material right there."

Mizu drops the box on the floor before finally turning her body to you with an eyebrow upturned. "So you're saying you'll marry me over a cat tower?"

You shrug. "I mean, you, breathing is enough—"

You squeal as you feel the sudden rise of your body from the ground. Mizu sweeps you into her arms, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other gripping your thigh. You flush in her hold as you wrap your legs around her waist.

You squirm in her hold. "Mizu, I didn't say now!"

The raven haired woman pays no attention to your whims as she steps over the boxes and begins to make her way towards her room. "We can do that later." She hums, carrying you with ease.

You turn towards Nora who stares up at both of her parents, innocently licking her paw. "N-Nora!" You whine over Mizu's back. "Nora, help mommy!"

The cat only stretches—letting a loud meow before it jumps on the couch and curls into a ball. You whine at the lack of attentiveness to your apparent danger as your girlfriend chuckles at your try of escaping.

"The cat won't help you, y'know?"

"Mizu!"

"What about this?" Your eyes lock with your girlfriend through the mirror as you fix the front of your dress. Akemi's birthday is just around the corner and plans of going out had been arranged and planned out. The birthday gal had wanted to celebrate her night at a club and your wardrobe lacked the proper attire for an occassion like that. So you went shopping.

The thing is, Mizu had always been your outfit decision-maker. You didn't think much of it before when her gaze landed on yours whenever you showed her an array of outfits for whatever occasion. Now, you feel her stare more intensely as if a knife had delicately touched its tip against your skin and marked its way down with a gentle grip—not enough to harm but enough to entice a reaction.

The dress you chose was satin with a color of your choice—backless and hung around your curves nicely. You subtly turn your body as you admire its simplistic design. Mizu hums from her position on the bed, laying on her side with her elbow propped up to support her weight. You see her tilt her head, eyes taking their sweet time to analyze your figure.

"Bon?" You ask as you turn towards her. Her eyes are half-lidded and you can sense from a mile away the familiar look on her face but you remain ignorant of the tension brewing between you. You choose to turn back towards the mirror, fixing your hair as you adjust the straps. "I don't know if it's fit for a nightclub or an evening dine."

You hear Mizu hum. Just then, you hear shifting on the bed before sock-cladded feet pad through the wooden floors. You see Mizu's figure behind you in the mirror—the subtle size difference of her broad shoulders compared to you heats your cheeks. Her arms make their way around your waist, pulling you flush against her chest as she props her chin on your shoulder. Your eyes lock on the reflection in the mirror as you take careful notes of her appearance. Hair pulled in a half bun, blue eyes devoid of their usual black-rimmed glasses, figure clad in black with a familiar gold chained necklace wrapped loosely around her neck, and her wrist adorned by a silver watch you gifted her on her birthday last year. You heave a breath at the intensity of her stare.

"You look pretty," She mumbles, eyes lost in your figure before placing a soft kiss on your neck. A shiver runs through your spine at her affection, feeling it take course through the expanse of your shoulder. It's slow and soft—making sure each scar and imperfection is not left untouched. You squirm in her arms.

"Mizu," You hum, voice deep and sultry as you lean your head back, allowing her more space to work with. "You're not working with me."

The raven haired gal laughs against your skin as she continues with her ministrations. You feel her hands rumple the fabric, clutching the soft satin material as it bunches up between her fingers. The hem rises up to your thighs, granting your lover a sweet view of home.

"What?" She asks with a teasing tone. You grumble at her mischievous nature. "I was just answering your question."

"I asked if it fit—" You moan slightly as she sucks on the familiar spot behind your ear. "N-not if I was hot. There's a difference."

"Is there?" Her breath hits your ear with a slight deep chuckle of her voice. You feel her trail her kisses towards the nape of your neck, hands beginning to caress your thighs. You watch as the hem of your dress practically rise up to the top of your thighs, granting no sense of decency. You whine as you feel her kiss down your shoulder blades, tongue licking out to mouth at the valley between your shoulders.

"You're so unfair," You breathe out, back arching as she slides her hands to your hips, pulling you back against hers. She smiles, nudging your head to the side as she buries hers against your neck. Your eyes meet at the reflection, gauging each other's response. You would've thought that her ministrations would end then and there but you shouldn't have underestimated your girlfriend. After all, it's always the quiet ones.

Mizu boldly cups your cunt over your dress—a moan escaping your lips. She pulls you flush against her as she nips against the tip of your ears. You remain pinned against her chest, her arm strength keeping you close.

"You fucker," You pant, mouth opening up to a grin as you gripped her arm. She merely gives a you a smirk as she hikes her hand up, grinding her palm against you. Your knees falter.

"I give you my opinion and you curse me out?" Mizu laughs against your ear, placing a peck on your cheek. "Not cute, babe."

"God, you're so annoying," You sigh, hand reaching out to bury itself in Mizu's raven locks. Your girlfriend merely hums, eyes watching you get lost in the pleasure of her fingers. It's as if the fuse in Mizu's head had began to run out of course, she then pulls away from your back and turns you towards her with ease.

You flush as she manhandles you in her arms, pulling you up to wrap your legs around her waist. You grasp at her shoulders at the sudden movement. She pauses, eyes calculating as she eyes you up like a predator waiting for its prey to back down, and knowing you, you'd never back down just like that.

You wrap your arms around her neck, leaning close to brush your lips against hers. "Gonna pull this dress off me or what?" You hum, nose brushing against hers. "If you're too busy eyeing me up instead of fucking me, I got a pretty handy vibrator back in my cabinet."

She chuckles at your boldness, jaw clenching at your words. "You're a fucking brat, y'know that?"

You giggle as she moves you towards the bed. "Gets you every time."

"Why are you limping like that?" Ringo asks you one day as you met up with him and Akemi for class. Thank the Gods that Ringo is naturally innocent like that. It saves you the embarrassment of having to tell two people what Mizu did to you in the morning. Akemi, however, merely raises an eyebrow at you—shaking her head like a disappointed mother. You had underestimated the time it took to get ready, and Mizu in bed wasn't exactly a good component in your determination to focus in the morning. Add the fact that your horny and Mizu is feeling quite energetic at 7 am.

"When I said that I'm happy for you, I was hoping that you'd get to keep the private matters of your relationship finally to a minimum and not for the whole world to see," Akemi deadpans. Ringo looks at her with furrowed eyebrows. "It's quite contradicting but you get my point."

You give her a sheepish smile at her words while Akemi merely sips on her iced coffee. Ringo turns to you with a smile, his hand forming a thumbs up. "Ignore her, I am happy for you."

Akemi grumbles, shifting her leg over her knee. "Can we not talk about this right now? We're about to have an exam."

You and Ringo share a playful look at Akemi's quips, not wanting to be at the receiving end of Akemi's fury. The classroom was slowly filling in with students—all having the same look of despair and exhaustion for the test in a few minutes. You turn towards your bag, hand rummaging through the array of essentials carefully packed from the night before. Your eyebrows furrow as you can't feel the familiar material of your pen case.

"Oh fuck," You murmur, tone panicking as you peered inside your bag. Ringo and Akemi glance at you in concern.

"What?" Ringo asks, ever the concerned hubby that he is. You let a shaky breath as you can't see the familiar cat patterned pen case that Mizu gifted to you last year. Your essentials for the test were in there! While a pen might've been easy to borrow, the other materials were definitely something you couldn't get away with. You turn to Akemi and Ringo with a frown.

"I think I left my pen case at the dorm." You huff in frustration, glancing at the front to check the time. "I can't go back, there's not enough time."

Akemi sighs, head nudging to your phone. "Check with your girlfriend. She might be nearby."

Your shoulders lower in hesitance. "It's class hours. Don't you think I'll be a bother?"

Ringo chuckles quietly in his seat. "You think Mizu would care about that?"

Akemi snorts before propping her arm on the table to place her chin on her palm. "What he said."

You sigh, contemplating your options before finally giving in.

You put your phone down on the surface of your table, cheeks heating up from the conversation. 15 minutes pass with ease and you're left twiddling your thumbs as you glance back and forth from the door to the clock in front.

Just as she said, Mizu appears at the small window of the door, hand waving awkwardly as she raises your pen case. You immediately stand up from your seat, earning curious glances from Akemi and Ringo. You pay them no mind as you shuffle your way to the door, gently opening it to not draw attention before closing it with a soft push behind you.

"Hey," Mizu's deep voice infiltrates your senses as you turn towards her. You immediately take note of her outfit—dark blue rayon skipper collared blouse with sleeves that reached her arms halfway, pale brown slacks cuffed to her ankles, and a pair of white sneakers. Her hair is in its usual bun with the added flare of her orange tinted glasses. You snicker.

Mizu sighs, tilting her head with a deadpan stare. "Why are you laughing?"

You glance at the empty corridor before wrapping your arms around her waist. "You look like a walking sponsor for Uniqlo."

Mizu scoffed, raising the hand grasping the pen case before gently bonking it on your forehead. "You ought to be more thankful to me, pretty."

You grin up at her, hugging her close as you prop your chin on her sternum. You squint your eyes, giving her your most mischievous look. "I'll be sure to put that on my new year's list."

Mizu rolls her eyes, pushing you gently off her before jokingly slamming your pen case on your hand. "There," She says before presenting another paper bag on your hand. "Also, here."

You glance at the paper bag then at her—those perfectly thick and plucked eyebrows arching at you as she waves the paper bag for you to take. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "What's that?"

Mizu shrugged as you peered inside to see a half filled cup of your favorite drink in a large size. You look up at Mizu who tilts her head to the side with a smile. "I got it this morning. Meant to save some for you."

You purse your lips as your heart softens at the gesture. "Mizu," You coo. The gal only leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead.

"Now go ace that test, bon," She smiles. "I'll get you after class."

She waves you goodbye before jogging towards the elevators. You sigh dreamily as she disappears into the corner before walking back inside your classroom. You maneuver your way towards your desk, earning a couple of side glances from Akemi and Ringo.

You sit down, giddily settling down on your seat before you hear someone clear their throat beside you.

"Homesexuals," Akemi clears her throat beside you to which Ringo snorts at. You shoot a glare at them in response.

Mizu is generally, a patient person.

Despite her grumpy responses towards Ringo or her perpetual furrowed eyebrows, eyes squinted into a glare, and her frowned lips whenever Taigen enters the scene, Mizu still is a patient person. You've rarely seen her angry and when she does become angry, it often comes out in seething silence. Eyes that bore into the depths of your soul, face hardened enough to not show any emotion, and a stance evoking authority and dominion over the situation.

You saw it once. When a guy tried to force himself on you during a campus party. It was an unfortunate event really and you didn't want things to escalate but the man didn't back down with his flirting (if you could even call it that). Let's just say that the night ended with a bruise on their face and it's definitely not Mizu.

You're well aware that your girlfriend can pack a punch and certainly knows how to use it. She's well built and has a lot of strength for someone her stature. Taigen calls it a sleeper build—a passing glance from when Mizu helped out with moving Akemi's furniture to her new condo. You definitely agree with that.

That's why you're internally panicking for the aftermath of a similar situation from Akemi's birthday nightout.

"Mizu," You pant, trying to call for her attention but the blinding force of her anger continues to drive her need for you. "Mizu—Ngh! Please listen to me—"

Mizu continues her ministrations on your neck, paying no mind to your squirming body as her hand grabs your thigh with ease—anchoring it to her waist as she slots her torso between your legs.

"Fuck," She growls against the skin of your neck, hair in disarray from the sloppy and heavy makeout session on the way to your bedroom. You vividly remember knocking a frame off your console table when Mizu slammed you against its edge. "I should've fucked him up."

You whine at the bite of her teeth on your shoulder—grasping at her shoulders. "Baby, we have to talk about this—"

Her thigh slots between your legs and hikes it up against your cunt—you mewl at the pressure. Mizu pulls away from your shoulder, licking her lips as she peers down at you with darkened shades of blue. "Talk? You want to talk?"

Her tone resounds with mockery and sarcasm, a seething remembrance of her fury from just a few hours ago. Typically, this behavior would startle you at first but you've grown to learn and love this blue-eyed woman after the years you've spent pining and being oblivious to each other's affection.

"You're not going to do this to me, Mizu," You snarl back, letting out a breathy sigh as her free hand begins to move your hips against her thigh. "You made us leave Akemi's party because of this—that's not–Hngh—t-that's not okay—Fuck!"

Mizu darkly chuckles as she begins to roam her hand underneath your dress. "You talk too much for someone who's about to get fucked."

"Shut the fuck up," You try to return the dominance but her skillful pulls and push of your hips leaves you breathless and keening at her touch. "That guy isn't even worth it, why'd you even—why?"

Mizu feels the inside of your thigh, reveling in the soft flesh as she creeps closer to your mound. "Didn't like the way he looked at you. Mothefucker had the audacity to ask for your number as if he didn't see my hand gripping your thigh. I fucking hate that."

You feel her fingers teeter over the edge of your panties—skin thumbing the material of your underwear, a surprise you wished would be unveiled in different circumstances.

Mizu kisses your pulse point, making sloppy kisses on the area as she continues to speak. "Everything's worth it if it's you."

You arch and mewl at her words, head moving back to give her more room. Mizu smiles at your reaction.

"You like that?" She chuckles deeply. "Like it when I'm being possessive, huh?"

"Oh God," You groan. "Are you going to fuck me or what?"

Mizu pulls away from your neck, brushing her nose against yours as she peers down at your irritated features. "So demanding," She smiles as she leans close and brushes her lips against yours.

Having had enough, your hand grabs her raven tresses—gripping it as you pull her down to close the distance between your mouths. It's all wet and full of passion—desperate sliding of lips against yours. She tilts her head, begging for deeper access as she slides out her tongue to feel more of you. There's a battle for dominance—a battle she's desperately winning. You pull away with a bite on her bottom lip, gently pulling it before licking your lips.

"Damn." Mizu lets out a breathless chuckle from the kiss, all the more turned on from your confident nature. You smile up at her with a grin.

"I suggest putting all that anger into something useful," You pant as you guide her hand to pull your dress up more.

You watch as she pulls the dress off, eyes widening at the lingerie set you've worn for the night. You see her hunger double at the sight.

"Fuck me up, Mizu." You mewl as you arch your back to present your body to her. Her jaw clenches at your words.

Just as you had said those words, you yelp in surprise as she pulls you down the bed—sheets ruffling in the process before pinning your legs to your chest.

"I'll fucking kill anyone who gets to see you like this," Her words are dark—an apparent shiver running through your spine at the process. You mewl at her domineering figure, watching as she marvels at the way the fabric highlights your figure.

Mizu then moves the fabric covering your cunt to the side, letting out a shaky breath at the process. She dives in without hesitance, tongue poking out to take a straight and slow lick from your hole to your clit.

"Oh!" You moan loudly, hand darting to grasp at her raven locks. "Fuck!"

She wastes no time in eating you out—licking and slurping as if this is the last meal she'll ever have. Your thighs quiver at the magnitude of pleasure she brings forth. You've never been this overwhelmed with the pleasure as you choke over your moans—grasping and clawing at the sheets or her hand gripping your thighs. You eye her arms—sleeves of her button-up hiked up to her elbows, showcasing the veins popping and rising at the harsh grip she has on your body. The sight heats you up even more.

You flush as she peers up at you from the comforts of your pussy—blue eyes clouded with lust and want as she makes precise twirls and flicks with her tongue. Goddamn her mouth feels like fucking heaven.

"You're so pretty," She mouths over your clit, teasing with a few licks before spreading it with her fingers to not let one spot untouched. You moan at her tenacity. "All mine. All fucking mine."

Just as the pleasure couldn't get any worse, Mizu rubs her index and middle over your hole before slipping it inside with ease. With all the wetness from her mouth and the slick coming from you, the penetration is done with no difficulty. She then makes a few thrusts of her fingers before flexing her digits in a come hither motion. The tips of her lengthy digits reach the familiar gummy spot within you. You yelp at the sudden spike of pleasure, thighs slightly closing.

"Right here?" She asks, breathless. You become lost in the pleasure—drunk from the high Mizu's giving you.

"Ngh! Mizu please!" You plead, unsure of what exactly you're asking. Mizu licks her lips before adjusting her hand—palm brushing over your clit. She then begins to speed up her thrusts—making an up-and-down motion on her wrist as wet noises begin to come out of your cunt.

"M-Mizu! F-Fuck—I can't—!" You scream as the tips of her fingers continuously hit that familiar spot. She pays no mind to your whims, ignoring your hands reaching out to grab her arm. It doesn't take too long before you feel an intense knot in your core, as if you're going to release something you shouldn't. With a final flick of her wrist, a ray of clear liquid squirts out of your pussy as you scream in pleasure. You twitch and shiver in her hold as she darts down to slurp up your release.

You whine and keen at the sensitivity, hands darting out to push Mizu away. She continues to lick every part of your cunt—swollen and perfectly pink from her ministriations. "M-Mizu! S-Stop—Hah—please—!"

Once satisfied, the raven-haired gal moves up with a smile. "Good girl," she praises.

You watch as she removes the rest of you and her clothes then untying her hair before adjusting your legs—raising the other as she slots between them. You whine at the sensitivity.

"I can't, please—" You sob, eyes tearing up from being oversensitive. Mizu coos at you as she grinds her cunt against yours. You flinch, hands darting down to her hips.

"Yes you can baby," She kisses your leg, holding it to her shoulder. "You can give me one more, won't you angel?"

You pant as she speeds up her thrusts, the pleasure begins to build up once more. Your first orgasm wasn't far along and so the coming of the second comes with ease. You remain listless on the sheets, eyes watching as Mizu's hips make skillful circles—cunt rubbing against yours deliciously.

"Tell me you're mine," She pants, hair gathered to her shoulder. The sweat and flush on her skin make her more ethereal. "Tell me who do you belong to, hm?"

She demands rather than asks and with the cloudiness of the high she keeps giving you, you succumb to her authority.

"I-I'm yours," You whine, hands gripping her thighs as she begins to speed up. You feel the familiar knot of your climax begin to unravel. "I'm yours."

Mizu's thrusts begin to become inconsistent and with a few more grinds and circles of her hips, you release with a loud moan as Mizu follows after.

She drops down on you with a pant, obviously exhausted from the strenuous activity. There's a moment of reprieve as you revel in the afterglow of sex.

Your laughter breaks the silence. "You should get jealous more often," You jest. "So that I can get laid like this again—Fuck that was good."

Mizu chuckles from her spot on your neck. She props herself up with her arms beside your head. "And here you were asking to talk when we both knew that's never going to happen."

You giggle at her words, arms wrapping around her waist. You then let out a sigh. "God, I love your tongue."

Mizu rolls her eyes, gently removing herself from the sweaty intertwine of limbs. You pout at the loss of her body heat. "Starting to think that you really just love me for my body, don't you?"

You raise your hands in a joking manner. "Consider me guilty."

Mizu throws a pillow towards you before rising from the bed. You admire her naked figure as she runs her fingers through her raven locks. Mizu notices your gaze.

"Keep your eyes to yourself, creep." She squints her eyes to glare. You roll your eyes in response.

"Such a hypocrite," You retort. "As if you weren't rambling about how possessive you we—AGH!"

The raven-haired girl tackles you into the bed, hands coming to tickle you to death. You both laugh and giggle at each other, reveling in the atmosphere brought forward by your chemistry.

You suppose you could never get tired of this. Not when it's Mizu.

___

There's not much change after you and Mizu finally got together but u suppose its probably the cat

Mizu has the tendency to match with your outfit. Whenever you ask her abt it, she just claims its a coincidence

When Mizu got her first camera, she took pictures of you and her together. She got the film printed. (She has a picture of you on the back of her phone and you have hers on yours)

Your go to gift for Mizu are socks and tea

Mizu is eerily similar to Nora. Sometimes you catch them pausing and staring at each other in the living room. it's quite funny.

Peers around campus are funnily giving you thumbs up and congratulatory shakes as if you getting together is a monumental achievement in history (It's bc of Taigen).

Mizu becomes all the more service-giving once you get together (she opens doors for you, pulls your chair for you to sit on, brushing a stray hair away from your face). She likes it bc u give her kisses now.

Mizu subconsciously plays with your fingers when holding hands. Though her fave part to put her hand on is your thighs. she claims that she likes the feeling.

Mizu often asks for your opinion on things whether it be for work, academics, or day to day life. Its because she regards you important and dear to her. She wants to share her life with you.

The moment you disclosed your relationship with your friends, Ringo legit pulled out a party popper

Mizu IS a walking UNIQLO sponsor (you cannot count how many rayon blouses she has in her closet. she claims its bc she likes the fabric)

You jokingly proposed to Mizu with a candy pop ring. Mizu proposed to you back with a can tab.

Mizu orders her drinks in the largest cup size bc she gives it to u after when u meet up for lunch mwehe (coincidentally its your fave drink as well)

Taigen was so confused as to why Mizu just bolted from her seat (pen case part) during their lab time together and when he asked what happened when she came back, she said, "Ah. Bonnie needed help." Taigen wants to explode.

Mizu is quite open to casual PDA. she says goodbye to u in the form of forehead kisses.

overall, you and Mizu are just so cute and so mwa mwa and i just wanna put yall in my pocket hehe

______________

A/N: HEYAAA this is finally done. not proofread so im gonna have to make edits to this tom. happy new year everyone !!! hope u like this roommate mizu! also to the ppl who saw this halfway done... no u didnt ....

#Spotify #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x you #mizu x reader #mizu bes #mizu smut #blue eye samurai x you #the blue eyed samurai x reader #blue eyed samurai

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

Note

OMG i just saw your !MafiaGhost on how they met but can you do how !MafiaJohnPrice met with the reader? (if you haven't already and have the time of course. 😊💕.)

mafia!John Price x fem!Reader

John Price has always walked a different path in life than people like you. And yet, despite your status, he learns that the two of you are more alike than he thought. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

mafia!141 masterlist

warnings: vague mentions of death and violence, infidelity, crude language, hurt/comfort, unhealthy relationship dynamics

wc: 4.3k

an: sorry this took me a bit to answer! as you can see i got carried away. also, as we're headed into the new year, i'd just like to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who's been supporting my works! i recently hit 1k followers, and i cannot thank you guys enough for your lovely comments <3 i hope you all enjoy :)

“You see that girl right there? You stay away from her. She’s nothing but trouble.”

Those were the first words John’s father ever said about you. He used one long, crooked finger to point you out in the crowd of other students who mingled about the room with their parents. Everyone had gathered in the school gymnasium for the science fair where all Year 8 students had projects and posters set up on rickety fold tables. Voices echoed endlessly off of the hard floor and walls that it was almost overwhelming.

Really, he didn’t agree with his father about you being trouble. You were plenty kind, and well liked by students and teachers alike due to your kindness and intellect. A proper student, one that everyone else in the school strived to be. There were times where your words bit harder than most would have liked, but John just saw that as you telling things the way they were. He liked that about you. Admired you, even. But then he saw the real reason why his father said those words.

The man who accompanied you oozed authority and power, both in his stance and the way he walked. People regarded him like he was the King of England himself both in how they spoke to him and stepped around him like he could part a crowd with just a single glance. Most importantly, this man was your father, and he donned a uniform fit for only the chief of police himself. His father never liked police officers very much. They always made things difficult when it came to running the family business.

It wasn’t until Year 11 that he actually talked to you. Or, more like you talked to him. By some terrible twist of fate, his maths teacher sat the two of you together in the small, double seated desks that laid in perfect lines around the entirety of the room. He learned that you liked to doodle in the corner of your paper during lectures, and had a tendency to tap your pencil against the desk while taking exams. He liked the way your eyebrows knitted together in concentration, and how soft your voice was when whispering answers to the table next to you.

He didn’t have time to think about you often, not that he should have. John Price was unfortunate enough to come from a family that had a long line of brutal patriarchs that often conditioned equally as cruel heirs. Once he turned sixteen he was forced to go along with his father during his work escapades where he very quickly learned how to clean up bodies without dirtying himself. He often showed up at school with various cuts and bruises, and with heavy bags under his eyes. Balancing the life of a killer and a student was tiring work.

“Red color corrector will hide the bruise on your eye.”

It took John a moment to realize you were talking to him, and even then he still didn’t fully believe it until he looked over and saw you staring at him. You were leaned forward over your desk with your hand lazily propping up your head while you waited for him to answer. His pencil halted in its dance across his work as he brought his full attention your way.

“Color corrector?” he repeated.

“Yeah, you know. Green hides red marks from acne, orange hides dark circles, red for… very dark circles,” you said, tilting your head at him. “I’ve got some in my bag, if you’d like. Though, you’d have to find your own shade of foundation.”

Your bluntness and slight humor towards the shiner on his eye had him chuckling, which only made the smile on your face grow into a smirk.

“You sound like an expert,” he noticed.

“I am,” you quipped before grinning. Carefully, you reached a hand up to the collar of your uniform and pulled down, exposing the side of your neck and some of your collar bone. There were several, small and faint hickies that he probably wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for you pointing them out. “A girl’s gotta have her fun.”

John liked your humor. And maybe there was something a little comforting knowing that someone like you was getting into trouble, too. Albeit, significantly less violent trouble than him, but that was for the best anyway. Maybe it gave him hope that someone like you and someone like him could actually have something in common. That he could resemble something that was normal.

A few years passed, and John began to drift from you bit by bit. You ended up graduating at the top of the class which earned you several offers from the most prestigious schools across the country, and it was all anyone talked about. Great things awaited you with opportunities to see distant lands, meet new people, and live a good and honest life.

As for John, his father died when he was twenty-three. Murdered, to be exact, and in a manner eerily similar to the way his mother had been. Cold, calculated, and ruthless, his fathers existence had been snuffed out by a single bullet where his blood stained the pillow that covered his face.

The torch had been passed down, and its handle was still bloody.

Over the years he grew rigid and battle hardened in the business of violence. He earned plenty of scars, and built upon his fathers empire until it was twice as big and infinitely more dangerous. It was the only thing his father had ever managed to teach him; how to be dangerous. Everyone who once thought the Price’s were people to fuck with learned very quickly that the new Don had nothing to lose but his own life; one that he didn’t care all too much about.

The only thing he held close to him was the ghosts of his past, which was why he found himself standing in line at the florist’s shop. Even while running a quick errand, his phone vibrated in his pocket non-stop from merciless amounts of emails flooding his inbox. Mostly updates about certain events within the family that he attempted to lazily check as the woman in front of him spoke sweetly to the shopkeeper. Her voice was so soft, so comforting, so… familiar?

He didn’t realize it was you in front of him until you turned to leave with a small bouquet of flowers in your hands. Even after all those years he could recognize the features of your face like it was second nature. The shopkeeper spoke to him and asked him what she could do to help him, but her words didn’t even register in his mind. His feet moved on their own accord, and your name slipped out of his lips before he could do anything to stop it.

Once you turned around to face him he found that the air had been knocked completely out of his lungs. It had been years since he had seen you, and you had changed so much; grown into your features, and turned into a beautiful woman that left him speechless. However, you didn’t regard him with the same dreamy gaze; instead, you stood there and stared at him as you awkwardly adjusted the flowers in your arms.

“Yes?” you asked tensely.

You didn’t recognize him. Of course, it made sense. He had grown significantly taller, his facial hair was full and thick, and for once he wasn’t sporting a shiner. His clothes were also significantly nicer, as he seemed to have grown fond of business casual as of late. If anything, your confusion was more humorous than anything else because he should have seen it coming.

“John, John Price,” he said as if he was introducing himself for the first time.

There was something about the way your eyes lit up at his name that had him feeling warmer than he had in a long while. A precious grin broke out on your lips as you took a step closer to him and laughed in the way someone does when they’ve figured out the answer to a riddle, and it was too contagious for John to not chuckle with you.

“I didn’t recognize you!” you exclaimed, still giggling. “God, it’s been years! Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

“Getting in just enough to keep things interesting,” he countered.

It was like no time had passed at all. You were still that star pupil that you were all those years ago, and he could still hear your pencil tapping on your desk clear as day. It felt unreal.

“What’s the occasion?” he then asked, gesturing to the flowers you held.

“Oh,” you said, as if surprised. “Well, it’s, uhm, the anniversary of my dad’s passing.”

The chief of police? Your father? That man who always held himself so powerfully had been shoved into the cold, unforgiving earth? When he was a kid that man had always seemed indestructible. Then again, so did every other adult when you’re at that age.

“I’m sorry to hear that, I hadn’t heard,” he quickly apologized.

Despite the terrible awkwardness of the conversation, you still smiled. “It’s alright. Was a while ago now, anyway. But, uh, what about you?” you asked, gesturing towards him and his empty arms.

“Mum’s birthday,” he answered simply.

His response made you smile something small and bittersweet. “How sweet of you. I bet she’ll love them.”

“Yes, they’ll make for good decoration.”

Something settled between the two of you; something that had never been there before. Not while you were children; not when you grew up together. Whatever it was, it was unfamiliar, and much too suffocating, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to welcome it or not.

“Well, I ought to get going,” you excused politely. “Got a few more errands to run. But it was really good seeing you again, John.”

This was the part where he should have said goodbye. Wished you farewell just for you to vanish and most likely never see him again. If he was a smart man, John would have done just that, and instead he found his hand diving into his pocket before he could stop it. He grabbed a pen and stole one of the shop's business cards off of the counter where he quickly scribbled down something in the negative space before holding it out for you to take.

“Here. I’m certain you get this a lot, but if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be there,” he assured you.

To his surprise, you took the card without hesitation where your eyes quickly scanned his rushed handwriting while you thanked him. As you held the card in front of you, something caught John’s attention. There was a metallic glint on your finger, one so bright that it nearly blinded him, and he realized you wore a large, gaudy ring. It was something given to you in poor taste, surely. Something that attempted to steal the spotlight of your beauty rather than compliment it.

“Did you get married?” he asked in what he told himself was curiosity.

You paused for a moment as you glanced at the ring on your finger. With such a large and obnoxious gem on a thin band, he was surprised it hadn’t snapped off.

“Oh, not yet. Just engaged,” you said in an odd tone. As if you couldn’t stand to look at the ring any longer, you shoved the card into your pocket before smiling at him. “Thank you, again.”

He tried to forget about you after that. Tried to forget about that ring on your finger and the way your voice changed when you mentioned your engagement. But it was so easy to worry about you; to care about you. Even after all those years you were still just as sweet and well spoken, but he was still John Price. Now the Don of the most lethal mafia in the country, he shouldn’t have been around anyone like you. You were the chief of police’s daughter, the girl who graduated top of his class in school and went to university; trouble. Nothing but trouble.

So he kept to his own work. Ran his club on the south end of the city, washed the blood out of his shirt, and spent his nights sipping brandy that was too expensive and well crafted for a man like him. But then he thought about the dress that you’d wear, how you would do your hair, what song you’d want to have your first dance to… it was moments like that when he was glad that he had given you his number rather than the other way around. He was even more glad that you hadn’t made an effort to reach out to him. It was better that way.

“You alright, boss?”

Those three words tore John right out of his thoughts and slammed him right back down to earth. Back to the thundering bass that shook the walls around him in the nightclub, back to real life and the man who sat at the desk in front of him, typing away on the computer.

“Tired,” John replied simply.

“You’re always tired,” the man countered. He paused his typing at the computer and ran a hand over his hair, which he had styled into a slightly grown out mohawk. “Even then you never space out this bad.”

Whatever Soap, his electronics specialist, was trying to get at, John certainly wasn’t in the mood for it. Sighing, he leaned back further in his seat while he stared at the man with a tense expression. “Do you have the intel or not?”

A small chuckle came from the corner of the office where another man sat, seemingly bored as he typed away on his phone. “Way to piss the man off.”

“Aye, I’ll turn that phone of yours into a fancy brick if you don’t watch your tone, Garrick.”

The two men chuckled at each other’s teasing just in time for John’s own phone to go off. Not expecting a call, John ripped the device out of his pocket and stared at the unrecognized caller ID with his thumb hovering over the decline button. But he hesitated. It had been months since he had given you his number, and yet a small part of him worried you might have been on the other line.

When he stood from his chair, it caught the other two men in the room off guard, but they stayed silent as they watched John accept the call and raise the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he answered.

All he got in response was a sob.

By the time John had found you, all of your tears had run dry and a brutal fury filled the empty space. It wasn’t terribly late at night, but it was plenty dark enough that the park you had run off to looked eerie and uninviting in the dim halogen lights. Knees bouncing with anxiety, you sat on a park bench and bit into your bottom lip as you watched John approach from the street.

For as much effort as he put into looking calm on the outside, it did absolutely nothing to settle the nerves fraying within him. Hearing you cry, hearing you beg for him to come get you scared him more than he cared to admit. Really, he was rather proud of himself for keeping as level headed as he did, even after he saw the tear stains on your cheeks.

It didn’t take long to coax what happened out of you, in fact, it nearly erupted out of you. That fiance of yours had proved to be less honest than he liked to paint himself as, and as the two of you sat on that park bench in the middle of the night you gave him every excruciating detail. How he had been acting strange for a few months, how he used to show you off and then suddenly wanted to keep you locked away. A part of you knew what was really happening, and yet you told yourself you were crazy until you had walked in on your fiance fucking his mistress in your shared bed.

“Four fucking years, John,” you said, trying not to grit your teeth too hard that they cracked. “Four years of being with this man just for him to do that? He moved me into his flat, wanted me to quit my job because he said he wanted to take care of me. I have nothing. I don’t have my own place, I hardly have my own money, I was an idiot and gave up everything because he asked me to and I was stupid enough to believe him.”

By that point in your rant your knees were bouncing so fast your entire body vibrated. Terrified you’d disintegrate in front of him, John reached a careful hand out and brushed it against your shoulder. Though you didn’t say anything about it, or even look at him differently, your muscles seemed to relax some.

“I could’ve been great,” you continued as your voice began to break. “I was able to go to any school in this country, I got my degree, I could’ve kept at work and been… something. And I didn’t need to. Not really. There was never anything I was trying to prove to anyone. I could’ve had a few kids with that white picket fence and stayed home to care for them. I would’ve been completely happy living that trophy wife life if it meant I was loved. But I wasn’t. I’m not, and that fucking hurts because I know I’m worth so much more than this.”

More tears fell from your eyes after that, and it didn’t take much prompting from John before you crumbled against his side. When was the last time someone had held you like that? Wrapped their arms around you and held you close? When was the last time someone comforted you and actually meant it and not just in some sort of twisted expectation of devotion? Something in you told you that you should have felt shame for blatantly sobbing on a man in such a public space at an hour like that. Another part of you didn’t really care.

It took a lot of convincing to get you to stay at his place. Eyes refusing to look at him when you gave him excuse after excuse, it was obvious that you didn’t want to burden him anymore than you already had. So you told him you could stay with your mom, or even get a hotel if that wouldn’t work, but John simply wouldn’t hear it.

Eventually you were in the living room of his house. An actual house. Not an apartment or flat in the city, but something kind and quaint in the higher end of town. He had a real lawn and backyard that was perfectly manicured, and everything on the inside of the house was much too perfect and clean. It was something straight out of the catalogs you’d see in magazines or on HGTV.

First order of business was a shower, and though it felt strange changing into John’s clothes, you would have done anything to wipe the stench of your cheating fiance off of you. And maybe it was because of the spite that boiled inside of you, but you found that you liked the way John’s clothes smelled significantly more than you ever liked your ex’s. Second was getting you food, and though you had told John you weren’t hungry, the scent of his buffalo chicken was too good to pass up.

It was near midnight by the time you went to bed, and John had made sure everything was set up for you in the guest room before he meandered back down to the kitchen to clean up. There was still plenty of work that needed to be finished that night back with the boys. He took comfort in knowing that you’d be safe in his house, at least, and well out of reach of that terrible excuse of a man.

When John finished cleaning things up in the kitchen, it took him a moment to notice the incessant buzzing sound that plagued the room. Like rattling glass, it made his ears quiver just listening to it, and he quickly scavenged the countertops until he found your phone resting on the island in the center of the room. Flashing lights illuminated the screen as your ex’s caller ID and photo popped up. He caught the tail end of the call, and the screen faded back to your lock screen where it claimed to have received 27 missed calls, as well as 84 unread text messages.

Where the fuck are you?

Answer your fucking phone.

Baby please.

Answer me.

Stop being a fucking bitch.

Goddamn skank.

Come on, honey it means nothing.

Are you seriously making this a big deal?

Come home before I drag you home.

I’m not fucking around.

You’re pissing me off.

Before leaving the house to head back to the nightclub, John swiped up your phone and hid it in his pocket, along with that god awful ring you didn’t care to wear anymore.

In the morning you woke up in a bed that wasn’t yours with clothes that didn’t fit you, yet you had never felt so comfortable in your entire life. It had been a long while since you last felt like you belonged; since you felt comfortable in your own skin. Still, you couldn’t stay there forever and you forced yourself up off of the mattress as you snuck your way to the living room. You were greeted by several large boxes that sat stacked neatly in the furthest corner of the room, and once again John was in the kitchen making food. He still wore the same clothes he had the night before, and they looked terribly disheveled, yet he still continued on anyway.

“Mornin’,” he greeted as he looked up from his pan where several eggs sizzled away. “Sleep alright?”

Still groggy, you approached the island where you lazily leaned against it. “Yeah. Looks like you didn’t get any, though.”

John chuckled, something tired yet still hearty at the same time. “Perceptive.”

“Always have been.”

John quickly finished up the eggs and began to dish out the food onto plates. While you waited, your fingers lazily ran over the counter top where they collided with your phone, and it took everything in you to hold back a sigh. Looking down at it, you pressed the home button where the screen lit up, expecting to see several messages from your ex, and yet there was nothing. You stood there perplexed and wondered if the man had really let you just run away from him, until you noticed something else missing.

“Have you seen my ring?” you questioned as John slid a plate of food your way.

“Your ex took it back,” John answered simply. He stood on the other side of the island for a moment before he turned around and started cleaning up the mess of ingredients and dishes that littered the counter. “I also managed to retrieve all your personal items. They’re stacked in the living room when you’re ready to look through them.”

Mouth open in surprise, you glanced back into the living room and eyed the stack of boxes before looking back at John with a raised eyebrow. “How… how’d you manage all that?”

Perhaps he should have hesitated before answering. Thought of something to say other than the truth. Instead, John didn’t miss a beat in answering you as he continued cleaning.

“He sent you a few messages last night and I saw his name pop up on your phone. Didn’t realize you were engaged to the mayor’s son,” he explained. “I have some contacts who were able to get me an audience with him. I figured it would be easier for me to grab your items than you doing it yourself. Save you the trouble, at least. He shouldn’t be bugging you again.”

For the longest time, you didn’t know what to say. There were a few glaringly obvious holes in his explanation, namely why there weren’t any notifications on your phone. If he had only glanced at it, they would have still been there, and yet they had been cleared. Then there was the fact your ex was too self centered to ever have an audience with anyone he didn’t actively seek out. Perhaps even stranger, you weren’t at all surprised. Maybe you were a little taken aback at everything he had done for you, but not at the methods he used to get it done. Because you had known John’s secret from the very beginning. After all, you had been the chief’s daughter.

“John,” you said, voice soft and even.

Drying his hands off on a small towel, he turned around to finally face you where he was surprised to find you smiling. And god, you were stunning, so much so that all he could do was stand there and wait for you to continue.

“I’m glad I ran into you at the flower shop,” you finished. “Thank you. For everything.”

It wasn’t what he expected you to say, and still he mimicked your smile, although it was much more tired than yours had been. Life was strange. Nothing had ever gone as planned in John’s life, and yet there was you. Through all the years and the shit and the struggles, you had found your way back into his life, and for some strange reason, he found himself hoping you’d stick around this time, no matter how much trouble you caused.

“Any time, darling.”

don't let me in with no intention to keep me jesus christ, don't be kind to me honey, don't feed me, i will come back

#mafia!price #mafia!john price #mafia!141 #john price x reader #price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price x reader

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kquil · 11 months

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POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PART 2

02 : THANK YOU

SUM. : you thank your heroes with home made lunch at their work place, leaving with a temporary tattoo and three men wrapped around your little finger.

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist sirius ; tattoo artist james ; piercer remus ; innocent reader ; all three are smitten with you ; all three also being casually dominant with you ; sweetheart reader x rough tough men is the trope! ; prepare to be as obsessed as i am over these men! ; marauders with tattoos and piercings are hot

LENGTH. : 2.6k

PREV. : 01 | RESCUE

“Well there’s a familiar face,” Remus greets with a smile as you step into the shop. You timidly smile back and wait for him to wave off a customer with their care kit before stepping forward with your heavy tote strung over your shoulder, “do you have an appointment for a tattoo or a piercing?” he asks, eyes trained on the tablet at the front desk.

“Oh, no no,” you bashfully stammer, “I’m not here for any of that, I’m scared of needles,”

“That’s a shame,” Remus contemplates and you look up to see him leaning over with a thoughtful look, his elbows on the counter as one hand holds his chin up - he’s so handsome. He has several piercings decorating his ears and an eyebrow piercing to accentuate the angles of his brows. As he moves his chin off his palm to caress it in contemplation, he continues to take you in as you also take the opportunity to admire some of the tattoos on his arms. There are some phrases in different fonts, an impressive vision of a wolf with a full moon and a minimalist set of the moon phases alongside much more, “you’d look good with cute little piercings on your ears,” he finally comments, reaching out to point at your ear.

“Th-thank you,” you subconsciously reach up and touch your ear, his statement making you briefly consider his suggestion.

“So what are you here for if not for a piercing or tattoo?” straightening up into his full height, Remus lets a light scowl take over his face, “Is that bastard troubling you again?”

“It’s alright, don’t worry, I told my manager and he’s been banned from the pub I work at so I haven’t had anymore bad encounters,”

Remus smiles at your precious appearance, you really look adorable being all timid in front of him, “I’m glad,” his voice is warm and comforting, different to the roughness brought on by the ink on his arms. He was dressed in a white shirt under a sleeveless brown sweater vest, high-waisted, tailored pants with the bottoms just about reaching his Doc Martens - he’s a good balance of soft but edgy. It’s a unique charm of his, you gather.

“I-I just wanted to say thank you to you guys,” you gesture to your tote bag, “so I made you some lunch, I hope that’s okay…”

“Free lunch, home cooked by the most beautiful lady I’ve ever seen?” Sirius interrupts, stealing your attention as he appears from a corridor to your left with a boyish grin. He reaches for your hand and brings your knuckles up to his lips for a soft kiss, “what an honour,”

Your cheeks heat up incredibly at the gesture, “it’s really nothing, you guys saved me last night, it’s the least I could do,”

Sirius smiles down at you and after sharing a look with Remus he begins to lead you down the same corridor he had just appeared from, “well, you have the most perfect timing, darling because it’s a slow day and almost our lunch break,”

“I’ll tell James and help him finish up with his last client for the day. We’ll see you in a bit,” Remus announces as he flips the sign at the door to ‘CLOSED’. You wanted to protest and say that you didn’t want to waste too much of their time but the mousy haired piercer smiled and that was enough reassurance for you to hold your tongue.

“Let’s go love,” Sirius leads you down a corridor to a room with rock posters and varying pieces of art decorating the wall as sofas lined half of the walls with varying aesthetics, one was very much distressed but still cosy looking, as the other was of a sleek, black leather. Thankfully, there was a pretty large coffee table that you could set your tote bag on and slowly began to take out the food you had cooked. On the distressed sofa behind you, Sirius admired your tentative figure and appreciated your stark difference in aesthetic to the room around you. Your style fits close to Remus although more feminine and carefree. There was a cosy structure to Remus’s fashion but with your long flowing white skirt, chiffon blouse and delicate jewellery, you embodied a breath of fresh air under the summer sun, “what a beauty,” Sirius says to himself, arms resting along the back of the sofa as you finally settled down.

Thinking he meant the food in the tupperware, you smile, “you like the food already?”

“I’m talking about you, darling, although the food does look delicious,” Sirius chuckles under his breath as you timidly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Th-thank you but really, I hope you like the food,”

“I’m sure I will,” silence slowly permeates the space between you as you wait for Remus and James but it was still comfortable, not awkward at all. In that time, you both take in each other’s appearance. Sirius wears a white tank that clings to his toned figure and ends just under his belly button, showcasing a majority of the tattoos that embellish his skin. He’s also in black jeans and a pair of worn combat boots. The tattoos on his arms and those that peak out from his torso and chest don’t have a visible theme but they all still go together somehow. There are many unknown symbols and long winded sentences written decoratively around said symbols and the occasional elaborate illustration. There are some doodles dedicated to music, some to inside jokes you would guess and you want to ask questions but you bite your tongue. You didn’t want to be rude.

“Curious?” Sirius asks, having noticed your wandering eyes and smiling at your kitten-like interest.

“A little bit…”

“Ask away,”

When James and Remus finally join the two of you a few minutes later, they see you fully turned towards Sirius on the sofa, eyes focused on a tattoo on his chest that he was explaining the meaning of, catching you in a trance with his voice. The tattoo artist has his tank top moved down and to the side as you absentmindedly reach your hand up to his tattoo, almost tracing the ink on his skin with your delicate fingers. From the grin on Sirius’s face and the love-eyes he was watching your face with, they could tell he was smitten with you, which was rare. Sirius was very much a ladies man but you’ve managed to rope him in with hardly any effort put in. Remus doesn’t blame his friend, though, you’re very captivating.

The chuckle from both Remus and James pulls your attention away from Sirius who smirks up at them, unbothered by their interruption.

“I heard a pretty lady was treating us to some home made lunch today,” James eagerly sits down in the space beside you as Remus sits atop the far right of the coffee table.

“Y-yeah, I hope you like it, please dig in,”

“Don’t mind if I do!” James cheers and promptly consumes his share of food, giving the occasional groan of satisfaction from the taste in his mouth, “Sho good!”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Remus corrects with an amused smile before turning to your with an appreciative grin, “Thank you, truly, (Y/N), I was getting tired of take out,”

“Home cooking is the best,” Sirius groans from your other side, already half way through his share, which makes you giggle in happiness. Your heart swells with joy knowing that you could properly thank your heroes. Speaking off, you finally get to admire James in better lighting than the street lamps. He isn’t nearly as decorated with ink as Sirius but there was a pretty illustration of a stag on his forearm that you admired. You hadn’t wanted to feel awkward so you brought some lunch for you too and ate alongside the trio, stealing secret glances at James who remained oblivious, too engrossed in his food. He’s in much cosier attire compared to Srius and Remus. Hanging from his broad shoulders was an oversized, faded shirt and washed-out jeans with the bottoms rolled up to showcase his high converse shoes. Framing his face was a charming pair of round glasses and, matched with his unruly curls and tattoos, made him a pictured balance of casual and wild that suits only him.

Lunch passes and James was the first to finish between the trio, quickly proceeding to pull puppy eyes at his two friends in a soft plea for them to surrender some of their food to him but they firmly decline.

“I’m not letting you have some of my lunch just because you finished yours too quickly,” Sirius huffs, pulling his tupperware closer to him.

“Sorry Prongs,” Remus laughs, “those puppy eyes aren’t going to work on me, our dove’s cooking is too good to share,”

Unable to resist James’s pouting face, you hold up a spoonful of your meal, “it’s okay James,” you bring your spare hand to sit under the spoon and move it to James’s lips, “here, say ‘ahh’,”

With a boyish, golden-boy grin, James happily accepts the mouthful and moans in happiness, chewing away like a happy squirrel. Enjoying his glee so much, you happily feed him the rest of your lunch, saying that you were already far too full to eat any more so that Remus and Sirius didn’t scold James too much. It was partially true though because seeing James eating was enough to make you feel full already.

Once done, you set aside the tupperware and was completely unprepared for when James kissed your cheek as thanks for feeding him the rest of your lunch, “you’re too kind, angel, thank you,” he whispers into your ear, his breath brushing against your sensitive skin and sending a shiver down your spine. You could only muster a timid nod in response.

When lunch ended, casual conversations started which slowly divulged into the boys wanting to give you a temporary tattoo as thanks. You wanted to protest the redundancy of their actions but were quickly convinced by the verbal pleas of Sirius and James as Remus simply stared at you with interested eyes.

“What tattoo would you like, doll?” Sirius asks, smiling at your pondering face. You're far too cute for your own good.

“Surprise me!” you finally chirp, missing the roguish grin the three men share.

Not too long after, you were brought into a room with a computer connected to a specialised printer against one wall of the room. Remus and Sirius immediately move to prepare the temporary tattoo on the screen and set up the printer while James leads you to the tattoo bed in the middle of the room.

“This can fold into a chair but that’s a bit of a hassle right now, do you mind sitting on the bed instead?” James asks as you shake your head and reassure that it’s alright. He loves how compliant you are and watches for a moment as you struggle to get on the high bed before offering assistance, “May I?” his hands hesitates just before they reach your figure but you pay his touch no mind and nod, moving your hands to rest on his shoulders as he secures his hold on your waist. With a small countdown, James lifts you onto the tattoo table with hardly any effort.

Shuffling back, you smile up at James who remains taller than you on the table as he stands between your thighs, “Thank you, James,” the tattoo artist smiles when you say his name but frowns at the distance you’re sitting at the table.

“No worries sweetheart but you we need you a little closer than that,” without another word, James grips your thighs with his large hands and pulls you with some force to sit closer to the edge of the table, which also pulls a surprised squeal from your lips, “sorry sorry,” James chuckles softly his hands still on your thighs and shudders at your proximity when he looks down to see your skirt bundled up, accentuating how close your hips were to his. Stepping away, James tidies up your skirt as you giggle and thank him once more for his assistance. He smiles at you before being called over to the computer, trading places with Sirius.

“Where would you like your temporary tattoo, love?” he asks gently, opening a packet of sanitising wipes as the sound of the printer starts and whirrs in the background.

“Hmmm…even though it’s temporary I want it to be easily hidden,”

“Such a shy princess aren’t you?” Sirius comments with a smile, “it’s so cute,”

Ignoring his comment, you rush to think of the perfect place for the tattoo and distract from your racing heart, “how about here?” you point to your chest, just above your breasts and below your collarbone. Sirius immediately recognises the placement and raises an amused brow.

“Like my tattoo?”

You timidly smile, “yes please,”

“Very good choice,” Sirius praises playfully as pride swells within his chest, “but we need to get to that spot first, love,” you look down at your blouse and curse under your breath.

“Umm…” you try to pull down the collar but it was a small cut and the fabric resists. The temporary tattoo finishes printing and Remus approaches the table with James to see you struggling with your blouse.

“Where does she want it?” James asks as Remus carefully holds the small tattoo.

“Where mine was,” Sirius points to just below his collar bone, “but her blouse is in the way,”

Remus nods and approaches you, “that blouse is going to have to come off, dove,” his brown eyes watches you gnaw at your lip, it’s a hesitance he’s familiar with so he knows what to do, “don’t worry, you have nothing to be scared of, okay?” he gives you a warm smile when you look up at him and soon feel assured enough to untuck your blouse and pull it over your head, “good girl,” he praises with the same soft tone. You feel silly, these men give tattoos and pierce people’s skin, you’re sure that they’ve seen plenty of shirtless women in only their bras. Remus especially…he’s an expert piercer and has probably been asked to pierce lady parts that weren’t…very common.

“I’ve got to prepare your skin, love,” Sirius holds up the wipe and once you confirm exactly where you wanted the tattoo again, he wipes the area clean. Your skin is soft and slightly bouncy as it leads down to your breasts that makes the tattoo artist wipe at your skin a little longer than normal. After Sirius finishes prepping your skin and letting it dry, Remus steps up and applies the tattoo as best as he can without wrinkles. He swipes over the tattoo with his fingers and smiles at the handiwork. Beside him, Sirius and James admire the temporary ink, all three internally screaming at what you had let them ink you with.

“Wait a full hour before you peel off the applicator,” Remus gently instructs, “and try to avoid sweating or showering for the next 6 hours okay?” you nod and Remus pats your head in approval with a contented hum. You put your blouse back on and let James help you down, laughing brightly when he raises you up high and spins you in the air before he finally sets you down, laughing alongside you.

The boys still have a business to run so you collect your empty tupperware and wave the three goodbye before hurrying home, excited to see what tattoo they had given you as they were adamant at keeping it a surprise from you. When you finally arrived home and got a hold of a mirror, you examined the tattoo with your blouse off and felt your cheeks gradually heat up as you trace the differing fonts of the three names decorating the space beneath your collarbone.

Their names in their handwriting. James, Sirius, Remus.

NEXT : 03 | GROCERIES

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS SERIES

A/N : i'm becoming more and more obsessed with this au - i couldn't stop writing! if i'm going down, im bringing your darlings with me! no survivors allowed! maybe i'll make a part 3? i don't know yet. again, i've added additional tags of the people who have expressed interest in more parts for the timestamp. tell me your thoughts, lovelies!

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins ; @astonishment ; @until-i-found-you ; @goodoldfashionedluvergirl ; @tiensmamains ; @manical-heaven ; @ch3rry-pops ; @unholyhuntress ; @animeluvr99 ; @peppers-library ; @thepowerthismanhasoverme ; @buck-fics ; @bohemian-lavender-girl

#james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #marauders x reader #poly marauders x reader #poly marauders #marauders #marauders fic #sirius black #sirius black fic #sirius x reader #remus lupin #james potter #james potter x you #☆ : timestamp #𐂂 : timestamp #☽ : timestamp

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greatwyrmgold · 25 days

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After finishing Dungeon Meshi, I had a lot of thoughts. Most of them were thoughts I'd seen echoed by other people, but there's one thing I don't think I've seen anyone else say:

Everyone hates Laios.

Obviously Kabru makes hating Laios his whole personality for a while, and the western elves think he'd be a dreadful dungeon master Lord of the Dungeon, and half of his party gets annoyed by his enthusiasm for monster cuisine. But I'm not talking about that.

Let's start with how almost literally everyone thinks he'd be the worst possible Lord of the Dungeon.

(cut this down)

This isn't just Kabru being in his "hating Laios is my entire personality" phase; everyone assumes that Laios's desires being fulfilled by the dungeon would be bad for humanity.

To be clear, they're wrong. Sure, Laios is susceptible to the Winged Lion's temptation, but so is everyone. At least Laios's stint as ersatz dungeon lord didn't have a body count! (Unless you count the Winged Lion's clones.)

But that doesn't matter, does it? People hated him before he reveals his obsession with monsters, and they have no shortage of reasons. Laios keeps talking about monsters and asking unwanted questions, he can't hold a normal conversation, he can't read the room or understand social cues, he doesn't fit in anywhere.

Laios does his best to act normal (most obviously when he pretends not to notice the Golden Country spirit because no one else sees it), but it's not good enough. People can still tell that he's different. They hate him when he acts weird and they hate him when he acts normal. Don't take it from me; take it from Chilchuck.

The left panel is the whole reason this post exists. It states in plain English that Laios would still be ostracized even if he only said "reasonable" things. People's distaste and distrust of him isn't rooted in how he acts or what he says, but in who he is.

...

Pretty much anyone who knows what they're talking about accepts that Laios is autistic. Probably also Falin, maybe also other party members, but Laios is definitely the poster boy for Dunmeshi autism. And the reasons people hate him are pretty closely aligned with his autism. That's usually subtext, but Shuro says the quiet part out loud.

Shuro doesn't know about the monster-eating or think Laios is gonna destroy humanity. He just can't stand Laios's eccentricities. And he's far from alone.

We don't see a lot of Laios's childhood, outside his interactions with Falin...but the subtext isn't great. You don't need to be a seasoned dungeoneer to recognize that someone is "different"; any kid can do it. And from the sparse glimpses we've seen of the Thorden parents—Laios's nightmare, the little indications that he shaves to avoid looking like his father, etc—they don't seem to have accepted their son's differences, either.

I doubt anyone in the Dungeon Meshi world knows the word "autism". If you tried to explain it to the Thorden party, their reactions would probably range from "Are you sure that's a thing?" to "Come on, everyone thinks like that sometimes, right?" But you don't need words to recognize difference, or to loathe it, or to make different people's lives hell. To make them want to escape their lives, by whatever means are necessary.

Is it any wonder Laios identifies with monsters, when so many people already treat him like one?

#dungeon meshi #laios thorden #characterization #autism #ableism #essay

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charcubed · 3 days

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I saw Challengers earlier today and I decided to start a running doc of some of my feral thoughts in an effort to not forget what's currently marinating in my brain after my first watch

I want this movie to get a long theatrical release/run because it deserves it, but that's unfortunate because I also NEED to have it accessible to me in my home ASAP so I can pull on all its threads and take screencaps. Alas.

EXTENSIVE SPOILERS BELOW

might add to this later as I remember things, idk

-The parallel of Art spitting his gum in Tashi’s hand and in Patrick’s hand… My jaw dropped soooo early on. Anyway they obviously both act as Art’s “coach” at different times in his life in different ways. (The jerking off teaching?? Scream???) Art craves their guidance and approval as a form of love (which is also directly responsible for his confidence issues) and initially likes to follow their leads in every situation

-The parallel of Tashi making out with both Art and Patrick up against cars… delicious

-Patrick’s car is his “bed” and it’s where he and Tashi fuck. Nice

-Wait now I’m sad because… lowkey Patrick is homeless because Art and Tashi are his home…………….

-The storm = Patrick and Tashi having sex = the reason why Art’s half of the giant poster/ad on the side of the building falls down so only Tashi’s side is left up. Iconic, loooove a good visual metaphor, especially shown nonlinearly

-The parallel of the forehead kisses??? Art and Patrick on the court at the start when they won the doubles, and Art and Tashi in the sad almost-sex scene towards the end??? I will throw up

-Disclaimer and reminder I’ve only seen this movie once and might reform any of these thoughts later BUT…

One of Art’s main things is, as he tells Patrick towards the start, not wanting to be “left out.” He loves and he wants both Patrick and Tashi (but he doesn’t fully want to acknowledge the extent of his want for Patrick for years, and that repression is part of his problems…). He gets “lit up” about the thought of them together not because he’s jealous of one of them but because he’s jealous of BOTH of them; he wants to know it all, he wants to be in the room, he wants to be with them both, he despairs at the thought of losing either of them (but, at the start, especially at the thought of losing or being of lesser importance to Patrick. Obviously he’s a fucking idiot as evidenced by how Patrick goes to see him FIRST at Stanford. Ugh). We see all of this at the start when Art wants to know if Tashi and Patrick fucked. We see this in Atlanta when he witnesses Tashi cheating on him with Patrick but doesn’t directly confront either of them about it; he only skates the edge of confronting it with Patrick in the sauna while also lashing out at him. Patrick tells Art at Stanford “it’s nice to see you so lit up about something, even if it’s my girlfriend” during the homoerotic churros scene because Patrick’s clocked all of this about Art, too. He clocks it further in Atlanta when he shows up to Art’s practice with Tashi and his mere presence makes Art hit the ball harder. It obviously all comes full circle; the cocktail of emotions that Patrick and Tashi being together gives Art coalesces again for him on the court in the Challengers match: Tashi’s threatened to leave him if he loses… and she’s maybe got one foot out the door with Patrick of all people, who Art already “lost” in the past as the love he’s been mourning for 13 years. But what’s important is that THIS time, unlike Atlanta, Art learns about Tashi cheating on him with Patrick not by accident but rather because Patrick actually tells him. Patrick understands the significance of how this will get Art lit up again and make him play the way he needs to for all of their sakes, and it’s fucked up, but… what this means is Patrick doesn’t leave Art out. He TELLS Art – and he tells him in a way only they understand while they’re on the court together again. Of course Art goes through several stages of emotions in response to that fucked up information… but ultimately that moment of honesty and realization between the boys is what Art needed and puts where all 3 of them stand into sharp relief, shedding a light on who they’ve all always been and what their individual needs are.

Art’s always wanted to play tennis, but that desire is framed around his relationships. Tennis is only something he truly enjoys or that fully makes him happy when he’s experiencing it through his connections to other people: he wants to impress, earn the approval of, or celebrate with those he loves who are watching (like his grandmother or Tashi) – which is partially why he wants Tashi to be his coach in the first place. And of course, tennis all began as something Art found joy in because he was always doing it with Patrick. It’s clear Patrick feels the same. At the start, neither of them cared much about winning for the sake of winning unless it was doubles because they competed as a team and that was “really fun” for them. With the singles competition, they kind of cared less about the wins at the start; Art assumed Patrick would win and didn’t care back then, and then Patrick was willing to let Art win so he could impress his family, and they were both fine with all of those sentiments. Tennis was first and foremost something they did with and for each other. As Patrick later tells Art in the sauna, “I miss playing with you” – and, of course, at that point he’s definitely not only talking about tennis. But in that final match, after so many years, Patrick and Art finally understand each other completely again. It’s like they’re in love (because they are and always have been), they go somewhere really beautiful together… etc. They finally reconnect on the court and feel that thrill as they become synchronized again, which is what tennis was always about for them.

And Tashi, who’s irrevocably connected to them both and whose primary love is and always has been the sport itself, gets what SHE’S always wanted: to “watch some good fucking tennis.” It’s why she pitted the boys against each other vying for her number at the start. Though she needs/wants both boys in different ways on an individual level, she doesn’t particularly need or want anyone to ~be in love with her~; she wants the men who are in love with her to entertain her and challenge her and give her a show. So that’s what she tries to accomplish again in the end by telling Art she’d leave him if he lost the Challengers match… but the missing piece in her making that threat – the element that would get Art truly fired up – was that she’d potentially leave Art for Patrick. That final piece of info, when Art finds out about the cheating, is what reconnects them in all of the above ways. Because it’s about all 3 of them and their triangular codependency. They’ve all been broken for 13 years because they all need each other and tennis to be fully functional. Split any of it apart and they just don’t work.

-Literally this is a film where from the moment of the injury they’re all constantly mourning. They all lose their greatest loves that day… Tashi essentially loses tennis, Art loses Patrick, and Patrick loses the two of them. Everything after that is just them being affected by how they’re all mired in various grief and feeling incomplete… until that synchronization at the match when they finally become whole again. Going from that bed scene that was breaking my heart to the final match was HEALING. Things are still fucked up and in progress, but they’re fucked up in a way they all understand, which gives them a path forward. This movie has a fiercely happy ending in that regard… and what I’m saying is that… after the match, once they communicate further, and much later down the line… Art and Patrick should go back to playing doubles and Tashi should coach them as as doubles team. God they’d eventually all be so happy I wanna CRY just thinking about them doing that. It would take them awhile to get there — because yeah, Tashi is living vicariously through Art’s career as an individual player and maybe if Art retired she’d then want to live through PATRICK’S career for awhile — but I think if they worked out their relationship then their tennis could come to reflect the needs of that relationship too, and doubles can still be “good fucking tennis” in its own satisfying right, y’know? I think they could get there and it would be a beautiful collective restart.

-I gotta say, I can't imagine Tashi pregnant. Wild to me. Sorry to their daughter. Oooo also... I think Patrick would be great with kids... when he gets to meet Lily and become "Uncle Patrick" they're gonna hit it off so fast. Help me

-*holds up Tashi watching them kiss after she orchestrated it* *holds up the Challengers match* It’s the same picture. Except the kisses were kisses whereas the match was actual sex. The moaning and grunting… I’m insane. Also Tashi’s “COME ON!!!!” is arguably the sole orgasm/climax we witness in the whole movie perhaps? Though you could argue the hug is too. In this essay I will, etc.

-Art begging for Tashi’s love/validation saying “Tell me it doesn’t matter if I win tomorrow” vs Art telling Patrick in the sauna “this is a game about winning the points that matter” / Patrick saying “I don’t matter?” AAAA oh my fucking Goddddddd I’m gonna die

-Thank you Luca Guadignino for your dedication to having Art and Patrick hold phallic drinks and food in each others’ presence. Specific shout out to Patrick at the beach party holding the beer bottle on his crotch

-Patrick = comfortable with who he is and secure in his bisexuality; honest and open Art = repressing his queerness and his overall desires Tashi = hiding who she is aka her dissatisfactions with life and the lengths she’ll go to because tennis is her true greatest love and always has been

COMPRESS, REPRESS... REPRESS, COMPRESS... AND THEN JUST SURRENDER, ONE TWO THREEEEE

-I need to rewatch to catch the dialogue because it was difficult for me to hear it over the music, but I think in the 3am Atlanta scene Tashi tells Patrick that Art’s grandmother had a stroke. IF that’s what she said (and if there’s no reason to believe it’s a lie Art told; like I said, I need to rewatch)… my immediate impression was that it’s a nod to Patrick being the voice of accuracy and prediction in this movie. Towards the beginning he tells Art (jokingly) that he hopes Art’s grandmother dies of a stroke, and that’s seemingly what literally comes to pass. He repeatedly clocks both Tashi and Art’s behaviors, describing them brashly to their faces (and to us as the audience), and he was right about his predictions. He’s the one who’s not repressed or unaware of who he is out of the 3 of them: when Tashi first asks if there’s something between him and Art, he looks away because he knows the answer is yes; he’s openly bi on dating apps; he tells Tashi he won’t be her lapdog unlike Art which we see later ends up becoming literal; he clocks how Tashi is hiding some of her true motivations when she seeks him out in the storm; and even from afar he predicts Art’s mindset about wanting to retire. For the most part, what Patrick does / says either seems to be or becomes truth. Hmmm, wait, as I’m typing this… something to look out for: the “I TOLD YA” shirt. Working theory: Tashi briefly wears it, she’s the voice of accuracy; then it blatantly switches over to Patrick and he wears it throughout the film and [waves to all of the above]

-Head in my hands thinking of how the word “love” is used in these tennis matches. Also something I need to make detailed note of when I rewatch

-Patrick grabbing Art’s thigh when they first watched Tashi play… oh my GOD

-Patrick pulling Art’s stool close and Art just smoothly sitting on it with no reaction… the way they kept looking at each others' lips... oh my G O D

-I just remembered Tashi referred to the boys being known as as “fire and ice.” What the fuck even.

-Tashi going to Patrick asking him to lose the match for Art… she’s literally like, "do this because I love tennis and if I lose Art then I lose the way I live tennis through him. Do this because if he loses this match he'll lose himself." And she's really like, "Do this because I know you’re in love with both of us." And Patrick is like, "A) fuck you because you know I’ll say yes precisely because I'm in love with both of you so how dare you ask this of me, and B) you’re kidding yourself if you think you don’t miss the challenge I give YOU simply by being myself because I don’t take your shit." Something something they're peers, you know

-Tbh for 13 years when Patrick gets his rare opportunities he’s @ both Art and Tashi like “you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.” And the thing is that he’s RIGHT. He’s right! Art in particular doesn't want to admit it because he's trying to convince himself he outgrew being bisexual / outgrew Patrick but it's obviously bullshit

-Realizing some of the sounds in the soundtrack intentionally emulate the sounds of tennis balls and rackets???? MADNESS

#challengers #challengers movie #challengers 2024 #tashi duncan #art donaldson #patrick zweig #char writes things

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hp-hcs · 5 months

Note

Could I request some Yan poly Theo and Mattheo x male reader please?

Where he is an animagus that can turn into a cat just like McGonagal.

Where he goes to them in his cat form for cuddles and scratches and stuff because he’s touch starved, but what the reader doesn’t know is that they know who he is and that he’s not a normal cat, and the reason everyone’s been avoiding him both in his cat form and human form is because they’ve made everyone besides him know that he’s theirs and threaten them. Just the usual possessive Yan behaviour from the duo. Maybe they buy him a collar or something in his cat form and he gets all embarrassed because he doesn’t know that they know he’s a human and just has to wear it when he’s a cat-??

I’m so sorry if it’s too detailed

um, obsessed???

also i tweaked the ending you asked for just a little bit cause i never know how to end fics 🫠

i genuinely despise this. fully anticipate me just deleting this and starting over.

also please never apologize for too much detail it literally makes writing these so much easier and faster

requests? 🥺🤲

“He is, most of all, l'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle.” — Yandere! Theodore Nott x Animagus! Sirius’ son! Reader x Yandere! Mattheo Riddle

warnings: very mild—mostly implied—yandere possessive/violent stuff

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Ah, Mr. Black. Lovely for you to join us.”

You cringed, hastily smoothing down your hair in an attempt to look like you hadn’t just woken up.

Snape gave you a stern look. “Very well. Now that you’ve elected to make your presence, perhaps Mr. Black can tell us what asphodel is?”

You flushed at the way your professor put you on the spot; the way all of your classmate's eyes were on you.

“U-uh, it’s a flower. It’s supposed to grow in the Elysian fields in the Greek underworld…?” You trailed off uncertainly.

Snape’s lips thinned, a sign that you were correct. “We have a new seating chart—a fact you might’ve known if you’d shown up on time. Over there. Quickly.”

You scurried over to the table he indicated, sitting down in the empty chair between two Slytherin boys.

The boy on your right gave you a sympathetic look, waiting until Snape turned to continue writing on the board before leaning over and whispering to you.

“We’re doing a project in pairs, but me an’ my friend Theo here said we’d add you in ours to make a group of three. Snape wanted you to work with Longbottom.”

The boy on your left—Theo, you presumed—leaned in to whisper, “Yeah, we wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. ‘specially not a pretty thing like you.”

You blushed at the flattering name, whispering back, “Longbottom? Merlin- thank you.”

He grinned brightly, seemingly pleased at your willingness to hold a conversation with him, if the gentle flush of his cheeks was any indication.

The boy on your right tugged at your sleeve with a charming smile. “That’s Theodore Nott, by the way. And I’m Mattheo Riddle, darlin’.”

~~~

“Well, I think we’re just about finished,” Theodore mused, sitting up from where he’d been leaning over your group’s poster board. “Think we used enough glitter?”

“No such thing as enough glitter.”

You laughed at the two boys’ antics as the three of you sat on the floor of their dorm room. They had a good rapport with each other, one that you fit easily into. There was no real awkwardness as you all joked with each other. You actually felt like you belonged, like you’d been a part of their pair for years.

It was a nice thought.

“Well, if we’re finished, then I desperately need to go to the library,” you sighed. “Flitwick assigned twenty inches on the difference between the Conservo and the Protego charms.”

The two groaned in sympathy.

“Good luck,” Mattheo shook his head, resting his hand on your knee.

You’d noticed that both boys were extremely touchy. They always seemed to be accidentally brushing hands with you, peering over your shoulder to look at the poster, and finding any excuse to rest their hands somewhere on your body.

You nodded your thanks, putting away your personal reading book, your glitter quills, and your googly eye stickers that you as a group had had far too much fun with.

“See you guys around!”

~~~

“Woah- Here, kitty kitty kitty!”

You blinked sleepily, annoyed at whomever was disrupting your nap by the warm common room fireplace.

Two blurry, vaguely boy-shaped blobs plopped down on the floor by you, one of the blobs’ bags spilling out its contents all over the floor. You swatted lazily at a feather quill that rolled to a stop beside you on the rug, quickly losing interest and yawning.

“Whose cat is this?” The shorter one—the one whose bag had dumped parchment and jellybeans all over the floor—asked, suddenly scratching the top of your head.

You froze, an unfamiliar rumble rising from your throat at the odd sensation.

You were purring.

If you were human right now, you were sure your skin would be prickling from the stranger’s gentle touch.

Gentle touch had always been uncommon for you. Your family was odd and disjointed. You grew up without a father, raised only by grumpy paintings and a sour house elf.

And once he returned, on a the back of a winged marvel, with stories of rats and traitors and time, his overjoyed smile had faltered when he learned you wore green and not red. His now ever-present pinched look of poorly hidden disappointment whenever he looked at you, paired with your god-cousin’s short and stiff hugs and forced smiles, you felt like an outsider in your own home.

“Virgil!”

The strangers startled you out of your reverie. Your ears flattened back, but the taller one just pet your head softly. The short one crossed its arms, shaking its head vehemently.

“No, dude. Why the fuck would you name our cat that?”

“Cause of the book? Dante’s Inferno?” The taller one pointed at one of your abandoned books lying on the rug, most of the stack on Charms subjects, except for that one. You must’ve fallen asleep while reading it, and changed into a cat at some point during your nap.

“Nerd.”

“Just because you don’t ever read, Riddle-”

You perked up at the familiar name. Blinking away sleep, the two blobs- boys come into better focus.

They’re your fucking group mates.

Fucking Circe.

Theo goes back to petting your head, his steady pets prompting you to instinctively push your head up against his palm to demand more.

“Oh- hi Vee,” he laughed, moving his hand further down to stroke along your spine.

“Wh- We’re not calling it that.”

~~~

They ended up calling you that.

They visited the library after school every day now, where sure enough, you’d always be sitting by the fire or sprawled out on the couch.

Some days, they brought extra friends. On those days, you’d always squawk and wind between your boys’ ankles to get their attention when they got too engrossed in a conversation, like an adorable, jealous tripping hazard.

And after you’d turned in your project, you had also remained friends with them as a human. You now lit up every time you saw them in the halls or the common room, and they always grinned whenever they saw you.

It was nice.

~~~ “Hel- oh.”

You watched as your History of Magic table mate, a usually kind and friendly Hufflepuff girl, scrambled out of her seat to sit elsewhere as soon as you set your bag down. You stared after her in shock.

What had you done to warrant that?

As you stared after her, you finally became aware that your classmates around you were staring at you with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

Everyone avoided the seat next to you like the plague.

You sat alone that class.

~~~

You set your textbook down on your desk, sitting down heavily in your chair.

Today had been awful. Nobody dared come near you in any of your classes, like you were a leper or something. You ate lunch alone, walked to class alone… you just hoped Potions, as your last class of the day, would pass quickly.

“Hello, lovely,” Mattheo greeted warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he sat down beside you—the first person to do so all day. “How are you this fine afternoon?”

You rolled your eyes grumpily, steadfastly ignoring him as you doodled on your parchment.

You suddenly felt fingers underneath your chin, lifting your head up until your eyes met Mattheo’s.

“He asked you a question, doll,” Theodore breathed into your ear from behind you. “Answer.”

You shivered at his tone and firm behavior, blushing despite yourself. “‘m- ‘m fine.”

“Good boy,” Mattheo sighed, patting your cheek patronizingly. “Was that really so hard?”

Your cheeks flush immediately at the name, as you remain a bit confused as to their sudden changes in personality.

Where were the lovably awkward pair of dorks that you usually hung out with, both as a human and as a cat? (Although, you supposed, they didn’t know about the latter.)

Maybe you were wrong about them?

~~~

You weren’t wrong about them.

You leaned against the side of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, watching interesting passerby on the street as you waited for your god-cousin, Harry, to return back outside.

You were so focused on people-watching, imagining backstories for everyone, (especially the creepy Gryffindor who liked to hit on you no matter how many times you said no: Cormac McLaggen. The boy had practically sprinted away as soon as he caught sight of you leaning against the wall. Odd that he also had a black eye and a busted nose) that you were completely startled by arms wrapping around you from behind.

You jumped, but relaxed a bit when they put their chin on your shoulder and whispered into your ear, “It’s Mattheo, doll. Calm down.”

“You just scared the shit outta me. Tellin’ me to calm down,” you roll your eyes. “What do you want?”

“Go out with me.”

“What?”

“M-me. And Theo. Both. Yeah?”

“Wow. Smooth, dude. Real master of words, aren’t you?” A new voice chimed in sarcastically.

You spun around at the arrival of a second person, relaxing when you saw that it was just Theo.

“What Matty is trying to ask is, will you go out with us?”

You gape at them.

“Both of you?”

“Ideally, yes.”

You blink at them, eyes wide.

Mattheo shifts nervously.

“Sure.”

Theodore blinks, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. “Sure? Like- like yes you will?”

“Yeah.”

The two boys exchange a rather disbelieving, giddy look.

“Uh, how does the Three Broomsticks at seven tonight sound?”

“Works for me,” you shrug, a pleased smile slowly creeping onto your face.

“Oh! Here. We- we got this for you. In case you said yes,” Mattheo digs through his pockets, pulling out a small, rectangular box, like the kind that watches come in. “But, you have to promise you’ll wait to get back to your dorm room before you open it.”

You laugh, shrugging. “Okay, sure. I promise.”

Theo narrows his eyes at you before sticking out his pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

You laugh again at the way his serious look contrasts with his childish request, obliging and wrapping your pinky around his. “Pinky promise.”

~~~

You shut your dorm door behind you, dropping your bag on the floor and collapsing onto your bed. You, true to your word, waited to open the box, pulling it out of your pocket only just now.

It was small, simple gift box, with a scrap of folded parchment taped to the top.

Y/N –

Thought you might like this. We’d love to see you wear it on our date.

– MR & TN

You raise your eyebrows, setting the note aside and lifting the lid, unsure of what to expect.

You were not expecting there to be a blue cat collar inside, the dangling metal tag reading:

Virgil

If lost, return to either

Theo Nott or Mattheo Riddle

#harry potter #fuck jkr #hp #hp x male reader #x male reader #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x male reader #mattheoxreader

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minty364 · 2 months

Text

DPXDC Prompt #142 Part 2

His parents had spent years working on their portal, to the point where they were neglecting their own children. Danny didn’t know any better, neither did Jazz. To them it was just how their family ran and for the most part it worked for them. It allowed Danny to really study space and the Stars. His room was covered with different ship models on the shelves, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and posters on the walls.

Jazz had similarly explored her own thoughts and topics as she studied Psychology. Her room was more feminine but still had a certain scientific decorum to it.

He never thought that he’d suddenly be ripped from all the things he loved. But here he was with the trench coat man, instead of taking some biology class or something.

“What happened with the portal?” Danny asked.

The man took a long sigh, “listen… quite a lot of shit went down after your accident.”

“That tells me nothing,” Danny glared at the man.

“I get your upset kid, but let me at least know your name. Mine's John Constantine,”

“…Danny,” Danny muttered after a moment. He wasn’t sure he trusted the man but he guessed he had no choice. He was also noticing he felt a bit off, it was the weirdest gut feeling and Danny was having trouble telling exactly what the feeling was. It was like the feeling was telling him to trust John, although at the same time John had this weird feeling about him that had Danny feeling weary. He decided to trust John just a little, hopefully it got him back home, after a moment Danny spoke again, “…Can you at least tell me if the portal worked?”

The room was silent for a moment and then John spoke “Alright, fine, I’ll tell you what happened but some background first, do you know who the ancients are?”

The name didn’t sound familiar, “Ancients? Like Ancient Aliens or something?”

“No, no…” John took a swig from a flask in his pocket and then started fiddled with an unlit cigarette he pulled from a different pocket. He then looked Danny up and down, “You don’t know the first thing about the infinite realms do you?”

“The what?” None of this was making any sense and the more Danny talked to this guy the more he was getting a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Something about this conversation felt wrong, like Danny should know all of this already but he just didn’t.

“Right well… I guess the easiest way to explain this is the portal your parents made was to the infinite realms.” John said, putting the cigarette in his mouth.

“My parents called it the Ghost Zone.” Danny muttered.

John seemed to chuckle at that, “I mean it is mainly inhabited by ghosts, however they aren’t the only ones, far from it in fact. I’m sorry but… I couldn’t allow your parents unlimited access to the realms. I had to disable it and prevent it from being reactivated.”

Danny felt a little disheartened after hearing that, he guessed John was probably right though. He remembered hearing his parents talk about how they’d dissect every ghost they found to study them. The bully’s at his school often bullied Danny over it especially after his dad and mom would continually embarrass him on parent teacher nights and on field trips.

Danny let out a small sigh, “so when can I go home?”

John looked a little surprised, his eyebrow quirked up, “so you're unaware of your situation right now?”

“Situation?” Danny trailed off, he remembered getting shocked and then he remembered waking up here, “where are we?”

John let out another sigh, “shit, well from my research you're supposed to know everything about your powers when you wake up.”

This made no sense to Danny, powers? Danny didn’t have powers, he didn't have the meta-gene.

“Powers? I don’t have the meta-gene. I think you have the wrong person.” Danny stated as he folded his arms in front of himself.

“Then how are you floating?” John asked with a smirk.

Danny looked down and he indeed was floating just an inch off the bed, he wondered when that started but the feeling threw him off a little as he stumbled a little trying to keep himself upright. It didn’t work and he fell back down on the bed with a little thud. He turned to see John watching him with a small hint of amusement in his eyes.

“What am I?” Danny asked, his voice small and a little panicked.

“You, Danny Fenton, are an Ancient. I know the term makes it seem like you're old but the term is more because your people are ancient in age.” The explanation made no sense to Danny but he could somehow float now. He thought the term ‘Ancient’ was a little much for some floating powers.

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glitteredrry · 1 year

Text

5 ways harry mentions you on stage

summary: Being Mrs.Styles has it’s perks, but nothing will ever beat when your husband takes time out of his show to shout you out in some way.

warning: all fluff and happiness. small mention of alcoholic beverages.

wc: 1k

1. pointing or blowing a kiss at you

One of the reasons you fell in love with Harry was because of the little things he has done for you since the beginning. When you both started dating of course the world didn’t know, you just seemed like a friend of someone on his team joining the show, that all changed when fans kept questioning who he was blowing a kiss to at each show. By compiling different tour dates videos, fans noticed that he would blow a kiss or point to the side of the stage during specific parts of songs. It wasn’t at each tour date, only when you could attend. Eventually, they matched the air kiss to the face, and the internet went wild because of you. Immediately you were known as Harry Styles' mystery woman. Fast forward five years later, and both of you were still melting the internets’ hearts, only now you were his wife. Love on tour was a whole new ballpark compared to his first tour. He was breaking records left and right, and entertaining anywhere from 17,000 to 80,000 people a night; no matter how big the arena or stadium was he made sure that you knew he was thinking of you. It didn’t matter what kind of day the both of you had, he would never stop showing you that small piece of affection.

2. mimicking your dance moves

Now you know that you’re not the best dancer in the world, but you’re not the popstar of you two. You sure act like it though. Your dance moves are not planned or practical, when you attend the shows you go to support your husband and enjoy yourself. When you’re in the family section sometimes you just really get into the music and start dancing with not a care in the world. Oh, but when Harry notices you, he begins to mock your dance moves until you or the fans pick up what he is doing. He’s not doing it with any malicious intent, or to make you uncomfortable. He genuinely loves to see you dance, he also loves your dance moves because it's so unique. He doesn’t know how to explain it, he loved getting to dance with you in a room full of people. The cameras from fans all bounce between you two and your interaction. In Harry fashion, once you notice you get embarrassed shooing him away, and with a giggle, he is running off to the other side of the stage.

3. “what are we drinking tonight?”

On occasion, before he starts to read the many signs across the rooms held up by his lovely fans, he asks you a question first. What are we drinking tonight? Harry knew that you weren't much of a drinker, and the only time you drank was when he performed. You would sometimes have an alcoholic drink, other times it would just be some water. He would joke and say ‘that’s right honey, treat your body with kindness.’ You knew that he wasn’t serious, but on the nights that you would happen to have something alcoholic, he would be shocked and scream it throughout the arena, ‘tequila! save some for me, love.’ He then reads fans’ signs leaving you with a smile. You loved him more than words could explain.

4. straight up calling you out

During a show, he loved to call you out by name. One of the ways that he did it was through a fan's sign. He would tell a small anecdote about your relationship and people would eat it up each time. For example, a poster would read ‘the love of my life broke up with me, what do I do?’ Harry would pause sympathizing with the fan because one time the love of his life broke up with him. “If they’re the love of your life then they will always find their way back to you. The love of my life broke up with me once. Now, she’s my wife.” The whole crowd would cheer because both of you made sure to be private about your relationship. Then sometimes it would be a silly sign like ‘came here for Y/N but you’re cool too.’ Harry would end up acting like a complete narcissist, “I believe the name of the tour is Harry Styles love on tour, not Y/N Styles. It’s my show, come for me and only me!” The crowd would burst out in laughter causing you to blow kisses to the audience. “Look you guys are making my wife conceited.” You would mouth sorry to him with a smile on your face, laughing at all the reactions across the room. “Alright, we are changing the name to Y/N Styles love on tour. Happy wife, happy life.”

5. flowers

This gesture was something that was private between you two. Each time Harry would catch a bouquet of flowers he would quietly hold it up in the air, notifying you he caught some for you. He placed it somewhere safe on stage where it would remain intact. Each flower that ended up being on stage went to you. Flowers were dedicated to you. Fans of course didn’t know this, because he would give them to you after shows. How did this all start you may ask? When you started dating Harry you were at a more difficult time in your life. He happened to fall into your life when you were in your last year of college. You couldn’t make it to each show, but when you did Harry was appreciative of the sacrifice that you were making to be there. He cherished that you treated him as a priority and never made him feel guilty for taking that extra stretch for him. To show you his appreciation, on your one-year anniversary; He surprised you with a gift that at first you didn’t really understand, but he explained. It was a cluster of different pressed, preserved flowers. Once he explained that each flower represented all the shows you attended. You broke down in tears, and knew that you would be marrying him. Now that you were married, he would always and forever dedicate flowers to you.

a.n.

another little 12am blurb i thought of. i hoped you enjoyed. 💌

#harry styles #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb

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ickadori · 16 days

Note

Ahhhhh bae u popped off with the sukuna smut 😭 u returned and with a vengeance bc OMG. My stomach dropped when he said the baby part, and pretending to delete her essay, hes sooooo mean istg i have never been wetter. Im gonna be thinking about THIS sukuna for the next few days bc hes so yummyyyyyyy. The kind of yummy u daydream abt and cant even think of anything bc HOW did u characterize him like that?!?!?! Im obsessed, stuuuupid obsessed with him- also her being yuuji's girl is insane IDC i would fold so bad for him hehsksksk like pretend to be drunk and go into the 'wrong bedroom' and wake him up with the messiest head ughhhhhh

Choso's bbg anon (tho i might have to change my name soon 🤧)

cws for reader being a dirtball (infidelity). dubcon oral (sukuna is sleeping but wakes up and is into it). degradation. brief mention of drugs (weed).

choso bbg anon heyyyu!!!!!! hehe how are you :3 i’m glad you liked that sukuna thing 😭 im trying to get back into the groove of writing before working on the stuff i abandoned iskdkd

You were drunk, but you weren’t that drunk.

You had been in Yuji and Sukuna’s shared apartment many times, and you had the placed mapped out clearly in your mind. You could navigate it in your dark if needed, and yet you had found yourself in a room staunchly different from your boyfriend’s.

While Yuji’s bedroom was a bit messy, yet still appearing clean, and had posters plastered on his walls that you were slowly convincing him to replace with actual good decorative pieces — it was boyish, full of that boyish charm that had originally drawn you to him in the first place, but this one was more…mature.

The room was dark, a digital clock on the other side of the room offering a dim illumination, but you could make out the black, abstract paintings placed on the walls, the shoes neatly lined on a rack, the absence of clothes scarcely thrown about the room. It was clean, tidy, smelled faintly of cleaning chemicals and strongly of marijuana.

It most certainly was not your boyfriend’s room, and yet you still found yourself shutting the door and creeping towards his bed, plush carpet feeling like heaven underneath your feet, feet that had been confined in heels for the entirety of your girl’s night out.

After five steps your shins hit the bed, and perhaps you’re a bit drunker than you originally thought, because you go tumbling face first into the mattress with a muffled yelp followed by a flurry of giggles as you right yourself.

There’s a large lump underneath the covers, and you begin to feel over it with your hands, lips pursed and head tilted as you try to remember why you had originally come in here. Your mind is a little sloshy thanks to the cocktails your friends had practically dumped down your throat, but you can somewhat remember the tipsy conversation the lot of you had that had prompted your current actions.

It was centered around Sukuna, because of course it was, or more specifically, how fucking hot he was and if he was a good lay or not, their words, not yours. You shouldn’t have paid the conversation any attention with you being Yuji’s girlfriend (you use the term loosely - the both of you had only just started dating) and Sukuna being his brother, but you couldn’t deny that you had wondered the same thing as well.

You had caught a few risqué peeks at what he was hiding underneath his work overalls that were frequently stained with engine oil, and you couldn’t deny that it seemed to be a nice size (him and Yuji had that in common it seemed), but size didn’t always equate to performance, as you had unfortunately learned with past partners.

You come back to the present when you manage to pull Sukuna’s covers off to the side, revealing a nearly naked man underneath. The illumination from the digital clock casts a glow over him, and a pulse starts between your thighs as you taken in the hard earned muscles that’re covered in various tattoos.

You audibly swoon.

Before you can think about the consequences of your actions, both good and bad, your fingers are already tugging at the front of his boxers and pulling down to reveal a thick, erect cock. You let out a shaky breath at the sight. It’s…big. Bigger than Yuji’s by a tad - thick from base to tip. It thuds against his stomach, twitching at the contact, and you shuffle closer, saliva pooling in your mouth as you lower your head.

The scent of his body wash is strong, but you can detect a bit of his natural musk underneath it, the smell growing stronger the closer you get, and you breathe in deep as the heat emanating from his cock warms your lips.

This is bad, terrible even! You think, and yet your tongue still flicks out to lick up the underside of his shaft, lashes fluttering at the taste of him. He shifts a bit but you pay it no attention, lips closing around the thick head and suckling. His pre-cum hits your tastebuds, and you can’t help the moan that you let out, head slowly bobbing as you work more of him into your mouth.

Drool trails down the length of his shaft and wets the pink mess of curls at his groin, and you gag as you take him in further and breathe hard through your nose. Your head pulls back, cock slipping out of your mouth with a wet pop, and there’s not a thought in your mind as you quickly take him back in, tongue lapping at his leaking slit before you’re taking him into your throat.

Your panties become sticky with your slick, and you tightly press your thighs together as your head quickly bobs up and down, cock slipping further and further until your nose is nestled in his pubic hair and your eyes are squeezed shut.

You go to pull back for a much needed breath of air, only for two hands to grab ahold of the sides of your head and keep you in place. A low, tired tsk sounds, and your hole clenches around nothing as you blink your eyes open to just barely make out Sukuna’s face.

“And Yuji liked you so much,” he grinds his hips up into your face, forcing another gag from you, and his legs move so his feet are flat on the bed, hands still keeping you in place. “Even asked me what can kind of promise ring to get you.” His hands move to fist at your hair, and you wince as he pulls your head up, cock slipping from your mouth once again. You whine at the loss. “And look at you - gagging on his brother’s cock. Didn’t even have to ask.”

“Suku—”

“Shut the fuck up and keep your mouth open.” You gasp at his words, and he takes the moment to force himself back in, cockhead plunging in deep and making your hands fly up to grab ahold of muscled thighs. “That idiot always finds the sluttiest girls. The ones that think with their slutty fucking cunts and nothing else.”

His voice is near a growl as he fucks your face, a mixture of drool and pre-cum spilling down your chin as your ‘slutty fucking cunt’ clenches around nothing - oh!

Your lashes flutter shut as your muscles seize up, a muffled moan sounding past the cock lodged down your throat, and Sukuna pauses for a beat.

“Nasty bitch. You just came, didn’t you?” You don’t have the dignity to shake your head, instead squeezing your thighs together tighter as your tongue moves against his length. He grins through a dark laugh as he cants his hips down, tip of his cock nestled between your now swollen lips, before snapping them up.

“Yeah, ‘m gonna have fun with you.”

#sukuna x reader #jjk smut #and wdym you’re gonna change your name soon 😭😭#TO WHO #SUKUNW???

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atinylittlepain · 4 months

Text

Marcus Pike x f!reader

(there is no masterlist for this man, good luck to this man)

He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him.

warnings | 18+ this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.

a/n | this was written LAST MAY woof - i think originally it was supposed to be for the first round of the PMAMC (also woof) but she's here now :') special thanks to @wannab-urs for resurrecting this fucker. there is a part two... just sayin

..............................

The first thing she notices about him is that he’s nervous. He keeps loosening and tightening his tie, eyes glancing around in quick, anxious sweeps. He’s definitely never been here before, she would’ve remembered a face that handsome, strong jaw under a little scruff and big brown eyes that set a smile tugging at her lips when he finally meets her gaze.

“Hey there, handsome, welcome in. First time?” His eyes drop down to the floor, a clipped laugh coming out as she steps closer to him.

“Am I that obvious?” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes crinkled in a shy smile that sets warmth spreading in her chest, bringing a delicate palm to his shoulder.

“Just never seen you around before, that’s all. What brings you to Pandora’s tonight?”

“Well, I, uh– I wanted to– um–” He cuts his own rambling off, jaw slack as he watches a man in head to toe latex walk by, being led on a leash by one of her coworkers.

“Hey, don’t worry about them. I wanna know what you want. Would you feel more comfortable talking some more in one of our private rooms?” Eyelashes fluttering, spine arched, she knows exactly how to reel them in, noting the dip and bob of his throat as he nods.

“I– yeah, um, yes please.” Manners, she likes that. She slips her hand down his arm, taking his hand before turning heel and tugging him down the dark hallway, taking them into one of the vacant playrooms. It’s one of the tamer rooms, a four poster bed in the middle, red silk sheets, and a dark chest of drawers off to the side full of all sorts of fun. She guides him to sit down on the end of the bed beside her, his hands immediately going to his thighs in a nervous squeeze. His eyes are still darting everywhere, but mostly to the tops of her breasts, pressed up in the strappy leather corset she has on, though he doesn’t let his gaze linger there long before jerking his eyes back up to her face.

“You don’t have to be nervous, baby. I just want to hear a little about why you came in, and how you’d like to be taken care of tonight, alright?” He nods, clearing his throat a few times before replying.

“I just– you gotta know that I’ve never done anything like this before, really. But, I don’t know, I guess I wanted to try something different? My, well my ex-wife, I think she thought I was too, um, vanilla. So I guess I want to– not be– um, vanilla anymore. And, Jesus Christ, you probably think I’m crazy, huh?” Somehow, he manages to still be handsome and look like a kicked puppy at the same time, and she has to resist the urge to push his flop of hair back and press a kiss to the crease between his brows.

“Not crazy at all. So when you say not vanilla, what does that mean to you?” When he gives her no answer, eyes only widening as he seems to wrack his brain for what to say, she laughs lightly, bringing a palm to his thigh and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Why don’t we start with the basics? Do you see yourself being more of a dom or a sub?”

“I– what does that mean, dom and sub?” Oh boy, more basic than the basics then.

“Dom is shorthand for dominant, that’s the person in control in the relationship, and they’re usually the one inflicting any pain, if you’re into that. And sub means submissive, that’s the person who follows the dom’s commands, who gets taken care of.”

“Oh, right, that makes sense. I mean, I don’t think I’d be very good at being in control like that, so I guess, more submissive?” I’ll say. She offers him a nod and smile, still trying to coax some of his anxiety out of him.

“Sounds good, handsome. If it’s alright with you, I can be your partner for the night. Let’s get some paperwork for you and then we can get started, ok?” He only nods, something she’s going to have to work on with him.

“For this to work, I’m gonna need you to always use your words with me, alright? That way I know exactly what you do and don’t like.” She says it to him over her shoulder as she rifles through the chest of drawers, getting out a waiver and a pen for him.

“Uh, yes, ok, I can– I can do that.” She sits back down beside him with a hum, passing him the paperwork, watching his brow furrow as he reads over it.

“That’s a list of kinks we do and don’t participate in. Are there any that you’re particularly interested in exploring tonight?” Another clear of his throat, keeping his eyes glued to the paper when he responds.

“Do men– do men really like that? I mean, I’ve heard of it, but, does it feel good?” She looks over his shoulder to where his finger is pointing, her lips crooking into a smile when she sees what’s caught his attention.

“Mmhmm, it can be very pleasurable, with an experienced partner, of course.”

“And you– are you, um, experienced?” Her smile broadens into a grin at his question, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Oh baby, I’m very experienced. Is that something you’d like to try out tonight?” He seems to consider it, his eyes darting from her lips back up to her gaze a few times before he finally nods.

“Fuck it, yeah, I wanna do that. But is it ok if that’s the only thing we do on this list? I don’t think I’m really into the whole– chains and whips thing.” She laughs at that, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she nods.

“Whatever you want. Just need you to sign that waiver which basically affirms that we’re all clean here at Pandora’s, and you are too. You’re familiar with our pricing, right? It’s three hundred for an hour, and five for two.”

“Is it ok if I do two?”

“You’re the customer, honey. What you say goes.” With a decisive nod, he ticks the box next to two hours on the form, signing his name on the dotted line before handing her back the pen and paper.

“Nice to officially meet you, Marcus. You can call me Daisy, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” As she sets the paperwork down on the chest of drawers, he lets out a light laugh, drawing her attention over her shoulder.

“That’s not your real name, is it?” Stepping out of her heels, she pads back over to him, standing right between his legs, setting down the items she grabbed before guiding his hands onto her hips.

“It’s not, is there something else you’d like to call me for the night?” He takes a sharp inhale as she drags his hands from her hips, up and up until his palms are cupping her breasts through her corset.

“I, um– Daisy’s good, yeah.” Letting her hands fall away from his, his eyes search hers, obvious in looking for permission that she’s happy to give.

“You can touch me, Marcus, whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

“Can I take this off of you?” His fingers are toying with the laced-up front of her corset, which she lightly bats away.

“It’s a little tricky, let me.” She makes deft work of unlacing the garment, a known path for her fingers that usually bores her, though there’s a little kick of something else, him watching her and the fine flicker of her hands. Marcus lets out a laugh at the grin she offers him, fizzling in his throat when she lets the corset fall away to reveal herself to him, standing before him in only her barely-there shorts. The heat of his hands just hovers over the swell of her breasts, and she can’t help the sigh that thrums in her throat when he finally lets his palms press against her skin. It’s not often that a client affects her like this, and she has to clear her throat to refocus on the real task at hand.

“Why don’t we get you out of your clothes? Sit back for me.” She’s undone dozens of ties, worked her fingers through miles of shirt buttons, and doesn’t even have to look to get trousers unfastened now, but she can’t shake the prickle running up her spine at the way his eyes follow every movement, and she can’t hide the shudder that runs through her when he tentatively tucks her hair behind her ear as she works his pants down his hips.

“Have you been doing this for long?” She shoots him a look from her spot between his legs, his pants discarded to leave him in just his briefs.

“Are you really trying to make small talk?” Oh, he’s blushing now. She likes that, crawling closer and dipping her head down to press a kiss to the center of his chest before dragging her lips up and up, catching at the bob in his throat before letting her mouth just hover over his, feeling the shaky pants of his breath.

“There’s no need for that, Marcus. I’m gonna take care of you now, and I need you to tell me what you like, and what you don’t, do you understand?” His voice comes out a little hoarse, and she can feel the thrum of it where her chest is brushing against his.

“Yes, I understand.” A grin is all she gives him, ducking down before his lips can meet hers as she lets her mouth drag a trail down his torso until she’s nipping at the waistband of his briefs.

“Can I take these off?” When all he does is nod, she gives his hip a light pinch, something between a laugh and a grunt jumping from his chest at the sensation.

“Yeah, you can take them off, I– sorry.” She smoothes her palm over the spot she pinched, smiling up at him.

“That’s ok, baby. Just remember your words for me.” He can’t be real, that’s all she can figure when she gets him totally bare before her, his cock a perfect pink that matches the flush on his chest, thick enough to set her jaw aching in anticipation, and long, pre-come smearing in the tuft of hair over his pelvis. She can’t help but wonder why the fuck anyone would ever want to leave him when he’s this pretty to look at.

“Can I touch you? Get you warmed up for me?” He’s propped up on his elbows to watch her kneeling between his legs, lips swollen from how much he’s been biting them, slightly parted in something like wonder.

“Yeah, yes, please.”

“Hmm, I like a boy with some manners. Just relax, Marcus, and remember, I’m here to take care of you.” With that, she presses a kiss just below his belly button, smiling against the twitch of his muscles before dipping down and letting her lips ghost over the underside of his cock. It’s involuntary, the hum she lets out when she takes him fully into the heat of her mouth, relaxing her throat like she’s learned to do, a necessary move in order to take all of him. And he’s perfect beneath her, thighs flexing under her splayed palms, low moans rumbling in his chest as she alternates between swallowing him down and lapping at his leaking tip. She knows she’s done her job, that she’s loosened him up, when those moans start to get a little louder, a little more drawn out, and he slumps down off his elbows to run a hand through his hair, eyes scrunched shut. A kiss over one hip, then the other, keeping her palm steady on his heaving belly while she reaches for the lube, his eyes squinting open to see why she stopped.

“You ever used lube before?”

“No, never needed to, I guess.”

“Well it’s gonna be your best friend tonight. I’m gonna warm a little up in my palms and then I’ll let you get used to the feel of it, ok?” He hums out an mmhmm, watching her hands rub in quick circles, his eyes following the subtle shake of her breasts with the movement. And when she gets her hands on him again, slicking her palm up his cock, a hiss slips through his lips.

“Sorry, is it still cold?”

“No, fuck– just feels really good.” She grins at that, letting her wrist flick, hand in an easy glide as she slips her palm down to cup the weight of his balls, his groan cracking and shooting up an octave, hips jolting at the sensation.

“Has no one touched you like this before, baby?”

“I– Jesus, no– no one’s done that before.”

“Well that’s just not right. Feels good, huh?” A little squeeze to punctuate her question sets another moan loose in his chest as he presses his head back into the sheets.

“Y-yes, feels really good.” She nudges his thighs open a bit more, letting her hand slip down lower, not pressing, but circling, gauging how he reacts as she keeps her other hand easily stroking his cock.

“Remember, need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t. We can stop at any time. Do you like what I’m doing right now?” His eyes are still shut tight, one hand fisted in his hair, the other tangled in the sheets, pleasure pulling his whole body taut.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s, hah– it’s different, good, different good.” His words go a bit slurred when she presses her finger forward, opening him up as he lets out another breathy moan.

He takes it well, whimpers and moans crackling in his throat as she starts a steady thrust, only pausing to work a little more lube over her hand.

“Doing so good for me, Marcus. You wanna try taking a little more?” He sits up on his elbows, surprising her a bit with his firm reply.

“I want more, want you to use that on me, please.” He tilts his head over to the strap laying on the end of the bed, once again catching her off guard.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” He tilts his head at her, a crooked smile on his face.

“Didn’t you say something about the customer always being right?” She lets out a real laugh at that, shaking her head at him as he just grins, clearly pleased with himself.

“I guess so. Alright, handsome, why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me? We’ll take it nice and slow.” He seems a bit taken aback by that request, his smile going a little slack as she gets off the bed to step into her harness, though he catches himself, clearing his throat and shifting around on the bed into the position she asked for.

She can’t help herself, getting back on the bed and kneeling behind him, laying a quick pat to his very cute ass that has him craning his neck over his shoulder to look at her.

“Sorry, just looks so good I had to give it a little tap. You ready for me?” He hums his assent as she slicks her fake cock in lube, bringing one palm over his low back in a reassuring circle as she scoots in closer.

“Just relax, Marcus, this is about you feeling good. That’s it, open up for me.” She works her strap in slow, curling over him to press her lips in a murmuring of praise into his shoulder blades as he whimpers beneath her, his hands fisted tight in the sheets.

“How’re you feeling, baby? Is it too much? We can go back to what we–”

“No, no. I just– just need a minute, fuck– didn’t think it’d feel this good.” She’s not being professional about this, she knows it too, but she doesn’t care. A professional would be checking the clock, making sure that he gets his before his time is up. A professional wouldn’t be laying kisses over his shoulders, whispering to him that he’s doing so good, that he can take it, that he’s so pretty like this. But nothing about the way she wants him right now feels professional, the way she wants to take care of him, to make him feel good, to keep him feeling good for as long as she can.

“Just say the word. I move when you want me to.”

Slow and smooth, nothing but patience and permission in how she fucks him, her hips slotting with his again and again and again, simmering down into a close press, her chest draped over his back and her hand working his cock in time with her thrusts when he finally unravels beneath her. He slumps down onto his forearms, a slur of curses punching out of his lungs as she runs her palms up and down his shuddering back. But what he does next is so unexpected she finds herself at the mercy of his movements. The moment she pulls her hips away from his, he turns over underneath her, still catching his breath as his hands find her hips, insistent and harsh in the way he pulls her down onto the bed. He’s certainly a sight, cheeks flushed and hair perfectly mussed up in every direction, his eyes blown dark and wide as he hovers over her.

“Can I take care of you now? Is that allowed?” A professional would say no, that his time is up, get him a towel and a glass of water and process his credit card.

She doesn’t say no.

He fumbles a bit with the straps of the harness, letting out an impatient groan that makes her giggle, quick to bat his hands away and make easy work of shimmying the whole thing down her legs. And the smile he gives her as she does is downright sheepish.

“That’s, uh, a bit tricky.” She brushes his hair back out of his face, thumb settling against the dimple in his cheek, a move that’s entirely too sweet and she knows it.

“Just a little. I’m all yours now though.” He doesn’t waste any time, ducking his head down to press a sweet kiss over the top of her breast that turns salacious when he slides his tongue down over the tight peak of her nipple, her back arching up into the heat of his mouth as he lets his teeth graze over the sensitive skin. His hands are splayed around her hips, greedy and insistent in the way his fingers curl and press into her ass, lifting her hips up to slide her tiny shorts off her legs before he settles back between her thighs, his nose brushing against her twitching stomach, dark eyes flickered up to meet hers.

“Is this ok? Can I taste you? Make you feel good like that?” He steals a move from her book when all she does is nod, his hand that’s still curled around her hip laying a gentle pinch to the swell, his grin going boyish as she huffs out a laugh.

“Can I have your words, Daisy, please?” She tilts her head at his shy question, enjoying the flushed flare creeping up his cheeks.

“Hmm, you’re a fast learner, huh? Yeah, baby, I want your mouth, Want you to make me feel good.”

It’s not that she had been expecting him to be bad at it. But she also hadn’t been expecting him to be so fucking good either. Head thrown back, thighs trembling around his scruff, moaning his name good. He’s not precious about it, licking a flat stripe through her cunt before letting his tongue catch on her clit in a harsh press, dipping back down to lap up the slick pooling at her entrance, a continuous circuit of pleasure that has every muscle in her body tensing up. He groans low in his chest when she rakes her fingers through his hair, tugging just a bit unkindly when his teeth graze her clit. One large palm snakes up to grasp at the swell of one of her breasts, his other hand pressed across her pelvis to keep her spasming hips still as he fucks her with his tongue, the strong hook of his nose dragging across her clit with each pass. And it hits her all at once, that snare of pleasure snapping hot and hard as she comes with a stilted moan of his name, her heel pressing between his shoulder blades, keeping him exactly where he is, and he continues to work her over as she comes undone on his mouth.

She tugs at his hair again when it becomes too much, her hips jolting at the thrumming chuckle he lets out when he finally pulls away, resting his cheek against her hip while she tries to catch her breath. They lay like that for a hiccup of time, just staring at each other, a dazed smile on his glistening lips that she knows is mirrored in her own hazy grin. Eventually she lets out a long sigh, reaching out for him and thumbing away some of her arousal that’s smeared across his jaw.

“Do you wanna, like, get a burger or something?”

“Is that– is that a part of my two hours?” “Oh baby, your two hours were up a while ago.”

…

He’s waiting for her right outside the club, and she mentally kicks herself for having worn sweats and a hoodie in for her shift earlier, though he doesn’t seem to mind, smiling big and broad when she steps outside to join him.

“I know you said burgers, but there’s a diner around the corner that does the best pancakes in DC. Sound good to you?” She likes this version of him too, confident, certain, a bit old-fashioned with the way he holds his arm out for her to take like they didn’t just wreck each other a few moments ago, letting her hold onto him the whole walk over to the diner, opening the door for her, the whole chivalric production.

It’s so late at night, they’re virtually the only people in the place, tucking into a cracked vinyl booth and putting in their order, pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon, the works. And they share every last bite, having both clearly worked up an appetite after their evening together.

Though he’s vague about it, she can suss out for herself that he’s some sort of higher-up government type, she knows them well, and in turn, she answers his questions about her, that her work at Pandora’s is good enough to be supporting her through college, Marcus seeming to perk up when she tells him she’d like to be an art teacher one day. He’s older than her, at least enough to have already been married and divorced, but she can’t find it in herself to care about that, too busy enjoying their easy conversation, the subtle game of footsie they have going on under the table, and the way he smiles at her, all of his attention on her. It’s so strange, so different, so starkly contrasted to the way her nights usually go, not that she minds the simple rotation of disinterested clients, but she hasn’t had someone look at her, really look at her the way Marcus is, in quite a while.

“I have to admit, I wasn’t really expecting my night to end like this.” Plates long cleared, each of them nursing a mug of coffee as the first sweeps of dawn start to light up the streets outside, she smiles at his admission.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” He grins at her question, leaning in on his elbows like he has the wildest secret to tell her.

“Really good surprise. I mean, I just think you’re– amazing. Fuck, is that weird of me to say?” She mirrors him, leaning in on her elbows, a smile threatening to quirk her lips.

“Hmm, no, it’s cute. For the record, I think you’re kinda amazing too.” Their faces are so close, and she realizes all at once that she hasn’t even kissed him yet.

“Only kinda, huh? Guess I didn’t do my job then.” She can almost feel the curve of his smile as she laughs at his simpering response, the sound getting swallowed when he closes the space between them, pressing his lips to hers. And he’s good at this too, his palm coming to cup her jaw, thumb stroking along her cheek as he deepens the kiss, licking into her mouth and nearly melting her on the spot. Though it’s over too soon for her liking when they get interrupted by someone clearing their throat in front of their table, pulling away to see the rather annoyed looking waitress setting their check down and shuffling away with a sour side-eye. She opens her mouth to protest when Marcus reaches for his wallet, but he waves his hand, black American Express glinting in the diner’s fluorescent lights.

“Don’t worry about it, baby, I’ve got it. It’s the least I can do after going over my two hours.” She can tell he means it as a joke, a flippant remark, but her stomach still sinks at even the suggestion of this still being a business transaction. It’s a sore spot for her, and though she’s more than comfortable with the work she does, her exes hadn’t been, nor had they been kind about it for that matter.

Busy signing the check, Marcus doesn’t notice the way her face falls, and she’s already out of the booth and halfway out the door of the diner when he finally calls out for her, further rubbing salt in the wound when the name he uses is Daisy.

“Woah, woah, hey, what happened in there?” The hand he hooks around her bicep is gentle but insistent, and she can’t help the tears threatening to spill over when he turns her around to look at him in the faint morning light.

“Look, if that’s all this is to you, just business, that’s fine, but I have enough respect for myself to not–” He cuts her off, bringing his broad palm to cup her cheek again, his eyes wide and unwavering.

“Hey, that’s not what this is– I mean, at least not anymore. We did meet under some, ah, particular circumstances. But this isn’t business to me now, if that’s ok with you?” He thumbs away her stray tears, and she nearly goes dizzy with the relief she feels hearing those words from him.

“I’m sorry, baby, it was a stupid thing to say, wasn’t even thinking.” Baby, it’s the second time he’s called her that. She’s never anyone’s baby, they’re always hers, but she likes it now, coming from him, finding herself smiling into his touch.

“I don’t want you to call me Daisy.” His eyes soften, smile tempering as he nods.

“Ok, what should I call you?” She tells him her real name, and with it, the last shred of her professionalism dissolves, and she doesn’t care one bit. He says her name like he’s rolling a hard candy around in his mouth, slow sugar in each syllable before he presses a kiss between her brows, lips trailing down to catch hers in a sweet smack.

“Can I see you again? And, definitively not as, um, as business?” It makes her laugh, how quickly he shifts between confidence and constraint. She likes both.

“I would really really like that, Marcus. Am I giving you my number or are you giving me yours?” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, like he’s surprised she actually wants that, though he’s quick to catch himself, clearing his throat and smiling.

“Uh, both? Both is good, right?” They swap phones, and she can’t help thinking to herself that of course this man has a Blackberry, stifling a giggle as she types in her number.

“Can I walk you to your car? It’s back at the club, right?”

“Oh, I don’t have a car, actually. Just take the bus to get around.” He doesn’t seem to like that, lips pressing into a thin line as he looks at her.

“How about I get you home this morning? Would that be ok?” Under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t dream of getting into the car of a man she just met, but seeing as she’s already broken a dozen of her cardinal rules with him, she doesn’t think twice about getting into his sleek BMW that’s still parked outside the club. He keeps a palm splayed just above her knee, thumb idly swiping back and forth, a soothing lull as she gives him directions toward her apartment complex. She hates to admit it to herself, but she’s a bit reluctant to get out when he does pull up to her building, leaning over the console for a kiss that he willingly gives her.

“So I’ll call you?” She lays a kiss to the small patch in his scruff, smiling against his skin when he lets out a huff.

“I’ll answer. Thank you, Marcus, for a really nice night, and morning.”

When she gets inside her apartment, she slumps back against the door, blowing out a long exhale and shaking her head.

“Fuck.” Her boss is going to kill her, but she doesn’t really care.

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike imagine #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike fic #marcus pike angst #marcus pike smut #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x female reader

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