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ginnsbaker · 6 months

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In Silent Screams (3/3)

Chapter word count: 11.8k+ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision (past) Warnings in this part: Smut (F/F), Angst, Gaslighting, Blackmail, Mild attempted sexual assault

A/N: This is probably the most uncomfortable fic I've written after In Flames (for good reason lol), so I'm nothing short of amazed if you were able to go through every line in this three-parter. P.S. For some reason, third part was the hardest to write for me, I guess it's because a lot of the scenes now are the same ones from In Flames after R found out and switching perspectives was a lot harder than I anticipated :P

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It all feels like a dream, starting from the moment she opens her eyes and a few rays of light have filtered through the slats of the blinds. For a few moments Wanda pretends she’s back to that day—to that first morning she woke up next to you as your wife. She can still vividly recall the setting: your old bedroom in Montauk. Less than a year out of college, both you and Wanda were being frugal about the whole marriage thing, opting out of checking into a hotel after the festivities the night before.

Wanda smiles to herself at the fond memory. She glances to the side, and the alarm clock reads 5:30. It's too early to be waking you up, or anyone in this sleepy town. Nevertheless, she has to talk herself into extricating herself from your arms if she wants to pull off a very special breakfast-in-bed. A hesitant decision, a quiet sigh, and Wanda's slowly pulling herself from the warmth of the bed. The wood floor feels cool against her bare feet, prompting her to reach for one of your used polo shirts hanging over the back of the desk chair.

She enters the kitchen, her hands immediately getting to work. The spinach and mushroom are her first go-to, swiftly layered with day-old bread, and custard mix, forming the base for her strata. Next come the eggs, which she sets to poach, anticipating the smooth burst of yolk that'll cascade over the muffin once all is said and done. And then finally, bacon—your favorite.

Sparky trots into the kitchen, inevitably drawn by the wafting aroma, his tail wagging in tandem with his eagerness. He settles by her feet, watching with those pleading puppy eyes, occasionally letting out a quiet whine that speaks of his impatience and hope. Wanda chuckles, bending down to ruffle his fur. “You think this will get you a piece, huh?” she teases. But, she already knows that she'll give in, sneaking him a piece or two. He's your and Wanda's baby after all.

After she’s finished plating the meal, she sets them on a tray and carefully carries it back to the bedroom. The morning sun presents itself more boldly, almost spotlighting you in bed. Your face is tucked beneath a pillow, the sheets haphazardly pooled around your waist, revealing the bare expanse of your back, without a care in the world. Warmth floods Wanda's chest. She places the tray on a nearby desk.

Breakfast can wait.

Slipping into bed behind you, she becomes a shadow to your form. Her fingers gently trace the curve of your shoulder, lightly skimming over your skin. A shiver runs through her, and she lowers her lips to your nape. The temptation is too great, and soon, her tongue joins the fray, drawing a wet path down your spine. And then, unable to stop herself, she begins to rub herself against you, a soft moan escaping her lips. The sheer fabric of the polo shirt she's wearing, infused with your scent, rubs tantalizingly against her sensitized skin, heightening her need.

She can't stop thinking about last night, and the times before. She can't stop thinking about you—having you, being had by you. However, as your muscles start to tense, indicating the micro movements of your awakening body, a soft “fuck” slips from Wanda's lips, distracting her rhythm. She waits, a small smile tugging at her lips, silently asking if you're ready to greet the day—together.

You lazily roll onto your back, causing Wanda to reposition herself, now straddling your abdomen. With a drowsy smirk, your eyes half-lidded, you murmur, “Good morning,” squinting at the enthusiastic goddess—my wife, you think possessively to yourself— hovering above you.

Her face lights up, her morning energy nearly palpable. “Morning,” she chirps back, leaning down to capture your lips in a short but sweet kiss. Breaking away only slightly, she gives you a playful eskimo kiss, her nose rubbing affectionately against yours. A giggle escapes you, and she continues until you feel her nose scrunch up from how hard she’s smiling, all the while relishing the sound of her laughter.

When she's done teasing you, she buries her face in your neck. Drawn to the soft, milky expanse of her thighs, your hands begin to wander. As your fingers brush the curve where her thigh meets her hip, the subtle absence of fabric gives you pause. She's without a stitch beneath your polo. Your thumb ventures further south, discovering the dampness tangled in her soft curls. Heat surges to your cheeks, and you bite your lip, stifling a moan.

Wanda notices the slight change in your expression and a devilish smirk forms on her lips. “Seems like you found a little surprise,” she teases.

“Did I?” you smirk, tracing the V-line leading to her hidden treasure, teasing her a little. Wanda's breath catches, her pupils blown. But just as she readies herself for whatever comes next, you suddenly shift upwards, unbalancing her slightly. Reflexively, her legs wrap around your waist, anchoring herself to you. Her hands fly to your shoulders, gripping them for support. With a swift move, you part the front of the polo she’s wearing, exposing the smooth curve of her breast to the cool morning air.

The sudden exposure makes her gasp, but before she can utter a word, you close the distance, taking a hardened nipple into your mouth. Her face contorts in unabashed pleasure, her world spinning as you draw her deeper and deeper into your mouth. It's messy and primal, yet at the same time, it's reverent and sacred—something she has only ever experienced with you. She can't help but squirm, fingers threading through your hair, pulling you closer, urging you on.

Keeping an arm firmly around her waist to ensure she stays secure, your free hand travels down her belly, fingers tracing a sultry path to her soaked center. You leisurely trace her slick folds, gathering her arousal, playing with it.

“Please, baby,” she arches and bucks, grinding her hips, “more...I need more.”

Your lips twist into a devious smirk, reveling in her desperation. Drawing back slightly, you gaze at the flushed, vulnerable state of her, taking a moment to commit the image to memory. “I love it when you’re this needy…” you rasp, the tease evident in your tone.

Oh, but she is. She needs you to claim her, time and time again. She never wants to be anything else other than yours once more.

You lean back in, trailing a path of searing kisses from her collarbone, down to the valley between her breasts. Without warning, you nip at her tender flesh, causing her to let out a surprised gasp. Marking her further, you suck and bite gently, leaving a trail of reddened spots, declaring your claim on her. With every purple bruise you leave, Wanda's moans grow more desperate, more wanton.

When you finally lift your head, her chest is littered with bites, then with a wicked grin, you dip your finger into her wetness once more, circling her entrance but never dipping inside.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I... I want you,” she admits breathlessly, biting her lower lip, eyes pleading. “Please, I need you inside.”

Not wanting to make her wait any longer, you slide two fingers into her, curling them expertly. Wanda's body arches off the bed, her inner walls instantly tightening around your digits, pulling them deeper. Every sound that spills from her lips, the way her body arches, trying to get closer, to feel more of you, tells you just how good you’re making her feel.

Your thumb finds her clit, rubbing it in tight circles, while your fingers continue to piston in and out of her. The room is filled with the sound of Wanda's ragged breaths and the wet, slick noises of your fingers moving within her. As you feel her body tense further, you take a chance and slide a third finger into her, stretching her, filling her completely. The sensation of being so full sends Wanda over the edge.

“Oh, God!” she gasps, her back arching, eyes squeezed shut. Her hands grip your shoulders tightly, knuckles white from the intensity of her climax. Her inner walls spasm around your fingers, coating them with her release, her entire body trembling in the throes of ecstasy.

You keep up the pace, not wanting to stop until she's wrung out from pleasure. Each stroke of your fingers sends aftershocks rippling through her. When it finally becomes too much, Wanda grabs your wrist.

“Enough,” she breathes out, a sated smile curling her lips.

You can't resist the allure of the taste she's left on your fingers. You raise them to your lips, deliberately and slowly, letting her watch as you savor her taste. The move earns a flustered gasp from her.

“You taste so good,” you murmur, your voice low and husky.

Wanda's cheeks redden, but her eyes darken once more, filled with a burning intensity. “Your turn,” she whispers, reaching for you.

Thirty minutes before she can call it a day, the sound of a knock on her office door sends a ripple of tension through Wanda.

She knows that knock all too well.

Taking a deep breath, she calls out, “Yes?” even as she mentally braces herself for who might be on the other side.

The person almost immediately steps in, and—unfortunately, she's correct about who she thinks it might be. Before she can utter a word, he says, “You know, I can't just come in without an appointment, right?”

“Exactly, Vision. You shouldn't be here without—” she starts to say, but he interrupts her by triumphantly holding up an appointment slip.

His cheeky grin widens. “Got one right here.”

Wanda eyes the slip, pursing her lips as she thinks of a retort, keeping her guard up. The game has changed, but Vision's audacity, it seems, remains the same.

“Alright, what do you want? And I wouldn’t entertain anything that doesn’t have to do with the course.”

“Just some clarification about our last lecture,” he says as he closes the door behind him, audibly locking it. Wanda maintains her composure, not letting it show that the small act alarms her in the slightest.

“Go on,” Wanda prompts, leaning back slightly against her desk, arms crossed defensively.

But Vision, without missing a beat, launches into something entirely different. “I miss you,” he starts, and Wanda's posture stiffens, her fingernails reactively digging into her arms rather painfully. “I realize I messed up, Wanda. I do. But I can change.”

“Vis—” she warns, trying to interrupt him, but he barrels on, his voice filled with desperation.

“And if, by any chance, you're pregnant, I'll step up. I promise. I'll be responsible,” he continues, his voice quivering slightly. “You have no idea how happy I’ll be if you are.”

“I'm not pregnant,” Wanda whispers, struggling to keep her emotions in check. It's one thing for him to disregard her boundaries and be reckless with his words, but to assume that she would continue a pregnancy, knowing he's the father? Even the thought of it is sickening.

“And I would still choose not to be even if you were successful in your plans,” she adds, just to spite him.

Vision looks as if he might be sick, his complexion turning pallid, and a faint sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. Wanda has never seen him struck by her words this hard, and she realizes she doesn't have any idea what he might do next.

“I just... I thought…” he stammers, eyes glistening, “I just wanted to matter to you, b-by—”

“By what, Vision?” She cuts him off, her tone icy. “Hoping you'd lock me down by trying to knock me up?”

Vision’s face crumples further, tears spilling over. For all his stature—tall, lanky yet broad-shouldered—in this moment, he's stripped of that facade. His body shake as he tries to hold back sobs. “I didn't... I didn't think it through,” he manages to say between choked breaths.

Wanda almost pities him, but she shakes her head. “If you’re not here for school, you need to leave.” Her voice is cold, but inside, she's fighting a storm of guilt for the hurt she sees in him.

Just then, the shrill ring of Wanda's phone startles them both simultaneously. Vision's eyes dart to the screen as her caller ID lights up, displaying your name. In a split second, desperation and panic take hold of him. He lunges for the phone, but Wanda is quicker. She swiftly grabs it from her desk, tucking it safely into her purse.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she hisses, her back pressing against the desk.

Vision's eyes burn with an intensity that chills her. Taking slow, deliberate steps, he looms over her, his presence imposing in the small confines of her office. “That’s her, isn’t it?” he demands with barely suppressed jealousy. “She's coming to get you now?”

Wanda backs away slightly, her breathing erratic. “Vision, you need to think—”

“I am thinking.” His voice drops to a low, menacing growl. He tilts his head, eyes never leaving hers. “And maybe I'm thinking of doing something you won't like.”

“No!” Wanda pleads. “Look, Vision—okay, okay, let’s talk. Just not here. We can go to your place.”

His gaze narrows, considering her offer. “When?”

“Soon.”

Vision shakes his head. Not good enough.

“Tomorrow,” he states without room for argument, his eyes drilling into hers. “Same time. Like we used to.” The allusion to their previous meetings isn't lost on her.

Wanda's throat constricts, “Fine,” she whispers, barely audible, a clear note of dread in her voice. She hates the familiarity of this situation. Most of all, she hates that she's put herself in this position to begin with.

Suddenly, Vision reaches out, his fingers nearly brushing the side of her face. Wanda instinctively shrinks back, but the space between the desk and Vision offers her little room to escape. Her back is to the wall, both literally and figuratively. She can feel the cold press of the desk behind her, contrasting with the heat emanating from Vision's body. It’s obvious what he's thinking, what he's restraining himself from doing.

Horrified and trapped, Wanda closes her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. But instead of the touch she anticipates, she hears Vision's harsh intake of breath. The realization that she's retreated from him seems to strike a nerve.

Without another word, Vision pulls away sharply, as if burnt. He turns on his heel, storming out of her office. As soon as he’s gone, her legs give out from under her and she slides down to the cold floor, clutching her chest as she struggles for air. The walls of her office seem to close in on her, trapping her in her own spiraling thoughts.

As the room begins to blur, the sharp buzz of her phone breaks through her spiraling thoughts. Instinctively, she reaches into her purse, pulling out the phone. Your name illuminates the screen, and with it comes a flood of emotions—relief, safety, love.

The mere thought of you—so close, just beyond these walls—stops a panic attack from consuming her.

“Would you like to go bowling?” Wanda asks you as soon as she fastens her seat belt.

The randomness of the suggestion takes you aback, and a hearty laugh escapes your lips. But as you glance over to see Wanda's reaction, expecting to see her sharing in the moment's levity, you're met with a pained expression.

Your smile fades immediately, replaced by concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

Wanda mentally curses herself, realizing just how easily you can read her, see past her defenses. Needing to come up with something plausible, she quickly blurts out, “I had something super spicy when you called earlier. Didn't handle it too well, it seems.”

The corners of her mouth quirk up in a weak attempt at a reassuring smile, hoping you'd buy the lie, or at least not press further.

You don’t. “Hmm… how about we take Sparky out for a stroll today?” you suggest.

“A walk sounds great,” Wanda replies, her voice softening.

“Good,” you say, starting the car. “Let's head to the park. A bit of nature might do us both some good.”

The engine rumbles softly as you shift the gears, transitioning smoothly from one to the next. And then, almost instinctively, you reach out to take Wanda's hand, your fingers lacing with hers in a gentle yet firm grip. You hold her hand throughout the entire ride home, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze whenever you feel them tremble between yours.

That night, while you sleep soundly beside her, she finds herself unable to sleep. She spends the empty hours simply studying your peaceful face. There's a childlike innocence in the way your lips part slightly, a soft snore escaping occasionally. It's endearing, and it makes Wanda smile, even through her turmoil. She imagines traces of age on your face—the lines that will mark years of laughter, the silver that will streak through your hair. She tries to picture herself beside you, her own face carrying the weight of the years, both of you holding on to each other until the last breath. Her smile is teary as she hopes and hopes that this is where she's headed—to this future.

Because tomorrow, she will have to see Vision, and if everything goes well, she'll never have to see him again. Then she will finally express how she needs you to take her back to Manhattan or anywhere far from here, so she'll never have to relive this nightmare she’s created.

The next day comes like any regular day of the week. She kisses you goodbye as you head off to work, and she feeds Sparky to his heart's content before getting into a pinstripe blue blazer set. She fails to notice just how good she looks in this well-fitted ensemble, the fabric hugging her waist perfectly. Her focus is solely on feeling powerful, as she knows she'll need all the strength to finally put an end to things with Vision.

Wanda takes a deep breath, then another, and then two more, before she finally gathers enough courage to knock on the door. Vision answers almost immediately, as though he had been anticipating her knock down to the very second.

The man before her now looks wholly different from the one she had encountered just yesterday. His blue eyes are bright and clear, his face clean shaven. The scent of a cologne she doesn't recognize wafts to her. New, she thinks. It's heady and distinctly masculine, unsettling her slightly.

“Wanda,” he greets with a charming smile, one that reaches his eyes, but doesn’t quite touch the soul behind them. For a moment, she's transported to the countless afternoons she spent here, entangled with him with nothing—not even air—separating their sweating, writhing bodies. His lips quirk into a sly, familiar smile, as if he too remembers those days and expects this visit to be a similar occasion.

“Vision.” Gripping her shoulder bag tighter, almost using it as a shield, she quickly sidesteps him. “May I?” she asks, though it sounds more like a statement as she makes her way into his apartment.

He chuckles softly behind her, the sound dripping with memories she would rather forget. “Of course. After all, you've always felt at home here.”

Wanda's stride falters for a fraction of a second at his words, the implication threatening to pull her under. But she needed to keep her wits about her. If she wants this conversation to go her way.

“Let’s just get to the point, Vision,” she says curtly.

“I intend to,” he replies, closing the door behind them with an intentional finality. Wanda allows herself to glance around, seeking even a brief distraction from what's about to unfold. His apartment is in disarray, a stark contrast to his appearance. Her eyes are drawn to one particular piece amongst the chaos—the finished nude painting he had made of her. The realization catches in her throat. It appears he’s finished it.

Wanda shoots him an expectant look, urging him to speak first.

Vision clears his throat, attempting to sound casual but failing. “Wine? Or should we skip the formalities?”

Her eyes narrow, her patience waning. “We skip.”

“Alright.”

He sighs and drops onto the couch. “Look, I've said sorry over and over, but I’ll say it again. I'm sorry, Wanda. I'm sorry for being careless that night.” His voice lowers, “But I don't regret it.”

Wanda's eyes flash with disbelief. “You don't regret it?”

“No,” he murmurs. “What I regret is that it didn't result in... well, you know.”

The implication is clear, and Wanda feels bile rise in her throat. How could he say something so audacious?

She opens her mouth to retort but he continues, raising a hand as if to hold off her words, “I want to keep seeing you. I can’t stop. Because, believe it or not, I'm in love with you.”

Wanda feels as though the ground has been pulled from under her feet. Every instinct tells her to run, but she knows that this won’t have an ending if she does. Wanda swallows dryly and closes her eyes, trying to piece together a strategy, a way to get through him, a way to get out of this unscathed, a way to ensure he won’t tell anyone about this when she leaves.

“I-I believe you,” she starts. “I think I’ve always known, no—felt, that you l-love me.” Vision nods to her words, his lips curling into a hopeful smile.

“But I have to be honest with you, too,” she continues, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I took advantage of those feelings, Vision. I knew, deep down, that you felt this way and I still... I still let it happen. And for that, I'm deeply sorry.”

He stiffens at her words, a frown forming on his brow. “Wanda—”

She raises her hand, signaling for him to let her finish. “I don’t love you. It's Y/N. It's always been her. From the very start. What happened between us, it was a mistake, one that I haven't forgiven myself for. Especially because of what it means for Y/N.”

She takes a shaky breath, looking into his eyes earnestly, “You deserve someone who can return your feelings, who can love you wholeheartedly. You're a handsome, intelligent, passionate young man. There are many out there who would consider themselves lucky to be with you—”

But Vision vehemently shakes his head, unwilling to accept it, refusing to acknowledge their end. “I want to keep seeing you.”

“You can't,” Wanda insists, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. “It's over.”

Vision's eyes flash dangerously, the calm veneer shattering in an instant. He takes a step forward, trapping Wanda with a threatening look.

“You think you can just fuck me and then discard me like nothing?!” he hisses.

Wanda backs up, startled. She feels her control starting to slip away. “Of course not. I… you were my friend. I cared—I care about you. But I shouldn't have let it get this far.”

He scoffs, not a word of hers reaching his ears. “So, it's all a game to you? You get to decide when to play and when to stop?”

“No, it's not a game,” she replies, desperate for him to understand. “But I can't keep lying to myself or to you. I can't keep hurting Y/N or you.”

His gaze snaps back to hers, and there's a glint of something dark and foreboding in his eyes. “Maybe you should've considered the consequences of your actions, Wanda.”

She swallows hard, sensing the danger in his voice. “What are you saying?”

“Maybe Y/N should know the truth,” he surmises, his voice dripping with malice. “Maybe she should know exactly who she's been sharing her bed with.”

Wanda feels like she might faint anytime. Panic rises, threatening to choke her. “Vision, please,” she pleads, “you can't do that.”

His eyes remain steely. “Why not? She deserves to know, doesn't she?”

Wanda takes a shaky breath, grappling for words, trying to appeal to his sense of reason. “Yes, she does. But not like this. Not from you. If anyone should tell her, it's me.”

“But you'll never tell her,” Vision says, his voice laced with accusation. “I see it in your eyes, Wanda. You don't have the balls to be honest with her. Because you're afraid. You're afraid she'll walk away.”

Both are poised in this high-stakes game, each waiting, anticipating, guessing what card the other will play next. For a heartbeat, Wanda feels disarmed, Vision's threat too sharp and too real. But as the seconds tick by, something shifts in her. She straightens up, pulling herself to her full height, and when she speaks, there’s no fear or hesitation in her voice.

“You’re not going to tell her,” she declares.

“And what makes you so sure?”

“Because you know I'll hate you,” she says. “And if there's even the slightest chance that I'll change my mind, then doing that wouldn't be it.”

Vision lets out a humorless laugh, but the look in his eyes betrays his indifference. “You think there's a chance you'll change your mind?”

“No,” Wanda says firmly. “It's over.”

The defiant look that had been painted across Vision's face begins to crack. He looks smaller somehow, like he's shrinking back into himself. His shoulders slump, and the facade of control and confidence he'd donned earlier dissolves. The boy from yesterday, the one who seemed so heartbroken, returns in full force.

“Wanda,” his voice trembles, almost as if he's on the verge of tears. “Please, I’m all alone. I told you my life, I told you about my parents, nobody in this world cares about me! And I know I said I’m fine and I can survive without them, but why should I when I have you, Wanda—”

She can't help but pity him, his brokenness tugging at her heartstrings. But she knows that relenting now would mean drowning in the same cycle all over again.

“Vis, you will find someone. Someone who isn't me, someone better for you. Trust that.”

“How can I want someone else when I had you,” he insists with unwavering stubbornness, his eyes growing more frenzied, and Wanda shivers at the unsettling sight before her.

“Maybe you had me,” she says tearfully as she decides to finally drive a stake into his heart. “But not in every way like Y/N has me.”

Before she can register what's happening, Vision's hands are suddenly around her waist, pulling her forcefully against him. The initial shock and his assertiveness make her freeze for a split second. As he starts rubbing himself against her, she feels the unmistakable hardness growing between them.

“Vision, stop!” she protests, trying to wriggle free.

“Can you feel that?” he whispers hoarsely, clearly misinterpreting her struggle, mistaking it for their first time together and all the other times she eventually gave in to his advances. “That's how much I want you. Need you.”

Tears of frustration and fear spill from her eyes. “This isn't right, Vision. Let go,” she pleads, placing her hands against his chest and pushing with all her might.

“Wanda, just—maybe if we—you’ll see. You’ll see that you love me, just let me—”

Her fist connects with his cheek, causing him to stumble a few steps away. For a while, they both freeze in horror, the gravity of the situation sinking in. In his moment of delirium, Vision comprehends what he was about to do to the woman he claims to love, and guilt claws at his guts, wrenching his insides.

On the other end, Wanda's chest heaves with shock and distress. She stands there momentarily paralyzed, the aftershocks of the ordeal still rippling through her. Tears blur her vision, but she refuses to let them fall, not now, not when she needs all her strength. Her gaze meets Vision's only briefly before she pulls herself together. She wraps her arms around herself, and then rushes to the front door.

He yells, “No, Wanda! I…please let’s just—”

But his pleas fall on deaf ears.

Wanda goes straight home after the whole fiasco with Vision. She locks herself in the bedroom, crying for hours, paying no attention to Sparky's worried barks from outside the door. She tells herself that it could be worse, trying to talk herself out of going to the police. If she goes to the authorities, she'll have to give a statement. This would inevitably lead to an investigation into their past, revealing things she doesn't want you to know.

Drained from crying, Wanda's eyelids grow heavy. As sleep overtakes her, vivid dreams flood her mind, each presenting an alternate reality. In one dream she’s back in Vision’s apartment, his arms wrapped around her like a chain, and every time she tries to pull away, the chains grow tighter, pulling her back into his prison. A cold dread settles in her heart, as she struggles and fights, desperate to wrench herself free from his grasp.

The next scenario places her in a world without Vision. It's a life untouched by his influence, where she walks unfamiliar streets and meets faces that do not recognize her. Then, in a sudden shift, she's back at her office on that fateful evening, but the events unfurl differently. The temptation of Vision never materializes. She leaves, unburdened by the weight of a choice she didn't make.

But the relief is short-lived. These dreams meld into a harrowing nightmare, saturated in hues of red and black, where you discover her secret. She tries to call out, to explain, to mend, but her voice is swallowed by the deafening silence of the dreamscape.

In her seemingly endless silent screams, Wanda wakes up. The remnants of her haunting dreams still clutching at her, making her jolt upright. The fabric of the sheets sticks to her body, drenched in a cold sweat. Each breath comes in ragged gasps, as if she's been submerged underwater and has just broken the surface.

The bedside clock reads half past six and panic sets anew. You could be home in an hour, given that you haven't been extending your hours at the office lately. The realization pushes her into a frenzied urgency. Throwing off the sheets, Wanda rushes to the ensuite bathroom. The cold stream from the shower brings a semblance of clarity, washing away the residues of her nightmares.

Wrapped in a towel, with droplets still cascading down her skin, she dashes to the kitchen. She pulls out ingredients, her hands working methodically, albeit with a haste that speaks of her need to keep busy, to keep the demons of her subconscious at bay. She manages to prepare a simple but appetizing meal, but the mere thought of taking a bite threatens to turn her stomach inside out.

The dining table is set, and she seats herself, her gaze distant once again. And she stays there, lost in her own head.

It’s how you find her when you get home at 9:15 in the evening.

You’re quiet tonight. Alarmingly so.

She asks you how your day was, and you respond tersely with a simple, “Good.” She attempts to get you to elaborate, maybe share an anecdote like you usually do, but you dismiss her efforts, attributing your lack of interest in conversation to fatigue.

But Wanda can’t stand the silence. When it’s quiet, the voices in her head are even louder.

So she decides to tell you about her day instead. She swears to herself this is the last day she’ll ever lie to you with a straight face. She talks about the final projects her students have begun submitting. As she describes her favorites, your interest particularly sharpens when she mentions the portrait projects. You pepper her with questions, mostly about who made which, and Wanda offers names that probably wouldn't mean much to you.

After you finish eating, you thank her with a small smile. It's only then that Wanda feels she can breathe again. She leans in, pressing her lips to yours, her longing evident. However, just as she tries to deepen the kiss, you pull away, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Showered without me?” you tease, but it lacks the usual lilt in your voice. She simply nods in response. You playfully tap her nose, whispering, “Naughty girl.” Then, without another word, you're on your feet and heading up the stairs to the bedroom.

She proceeds to clear the table and wash the dishes, all while the sound of the shower fills her ears. She allows herself a small smile, chiding herself for being overly affected by her dream.

By the time she makes her way up to join you, she discovers you've already drifted off, turned away from the vacant space beside you that's meant for her.

She’s positively shaking as she takes the short walk from the parking lot to the classroom, the dread building up inside her like a swelling storm. The thought of facing her class, and especially Vision, sends shivers down her spine. The recent events—the horrifically inappropriate advances and Vision's glaring sense of entitlement—play over and over in her mind.

Her feet eventually take her to her destination, but she remains outside for a full minute. The thought of facing Vision again is almost enough to turn her around. But another, stronger, voice reminds her of her duty, her commitment to her other students, and her own integrity. Moreover, she doesn't want to be alone today, here the haunting events with Vision could replay in her mind without any distractions.

She pushes open the door. It appears to be a typical day, with her students clustered in small groups, engrossed in conversation and seemingly oblivious to her arrival. She swiftly surveys the room and, to her relief, doesn't spot the familiar blue eyes that usually fixate on her by this time.

When she starts her lecture on the final topic of the semester, it flows seamlessly. Still, the end of the course can't come soon enough; continuing here is untenable. She can’t keep teaching here, when these hallways keep reminding her of the mistake that almost cost her everything.

You've been leaving the side of your bed cold for almost two weeks now. Sometimes, your careful movements stir her awake, and she watches you, bleary-eyed, as you go through the motions of prepping for a run, a habit you've picked up quite recently. At first, Wanda would always ask where you’re headed and if she can accompany you. But you'd consistently dismiss her offer, always seeming in a rush to hit the pavement.

She thinks it’s good for you—the exercise. The only aspect of your new hobby that she dislikes is that you typically go before sunrise, where everywhere is still too dark and eerily quiet, and her imagination runs wild of all the worst things that could happen to you while you’re out on your run.

And Wanda wouldn’t admit it, but she can't help but internalize the consistent rejection of her offers to join you. She wonders if there's a deeper reason behind it. When you're out and she's left alone with her thoughts, Wanda can't help but let the guilt seep in. Has she become too transparent? Has something given her secret away? Did you find out about her affair? How would she even begin to explain?

But then you return after your run, with a sense of tranquility, as though the exercise had been a cathartic release of some pent-up tension. However, something still feels amiss. Perhaps it's because she hasn't slept with you since the night she discovered she wasn't pregnant with Vision's child, and all that has passed between you are brief, perfunctory kisses here and there. She wants to discuss it with you, but she doesn't want to appear too eager or guilty. Instead, she remains committed to being a good wife. And even though being a good wife was never about housework, Wanda ensures that every corner of the house sparkles and shines.

Meanwhile, you go about fulfilling your own household responsibilities seamlessly. From tending to minor repairs to ensuring that bills are paid on time, you continue with the routines that have always defined the dynamic of your relationship. There's no sign of resentment or dissatisfaction in your actions. It's almost as if everything is back to normal. This confounds Wanda even more. She starts to question her own memory, wondering if perhaps this distance, this new version of you, has always been present and she just never realized it. It's possible that you've become this way while she was preoccupied with her affair, and she didn't notice how you slowly adjusted to her unavailability.

Of course, she only has herself to blame. She's determined, however, to rectify it and make it up to you.

Which is when the idea strikes her. The dream vacation to Hawaii that both of you often fantasized about but never took due to financial constraints and a tight schedule. With the money from her teaching job, she now has the means to turn that dream into a reality. A surprise trip might be the perfect remedy to rekindle the connection that has worn out due to your busy lives and... her unfaithfulness.

She knows it doesn't atone for her sins, but it's a step in the right direction.

It should have been the perfect day for her surprises. She has two of them—the surprise trip and the news of her resignation from the university. She had just handed you the box with all the Hawaii trip details, and you were about to dive in, when there was a knock at the door.

Two men in dark suits have arrived at the house, looking for her. Detectives—Rogers and Barnes. Wanda uncovers the real reason behind Vision's absence from school, and it wasn't due to personal family matters or a decision to pursue education elsewhere.

He's been in an accident, and they suspect foul play.

Their questions start off simple, touching on the basics. But soon, they feel like piercing arrows as they delve into the phone calls between them, how close they were, and if she ever set foot in his apartment. Throughout the interrogation, Wanda manages to keep a straight face, though deep down she knows she probably can't fool detectives of their caliber. Yet, she silently prays that you don't see past her mask.

“That’s enough,” you interject firmly. “My wife has answered your questions. Unless there’s anything else directly related to your investigation, I believe we’ve covered everything.”

Your intervention when their questions grow more intrusive suggests she's managed to keep you in the dark. The realization that you're still on her side floods her with immense relief.

“Very well. Thank you both for your time,” Rogers says.

But Wanda isn’t done. She has her own questions. She needs to know if Vision's involvement with her is the reason they're here, probing. She wonders if he might have informed the authorities about their inappropriate relationship, and if that somehow relates to his current situation.

“Wait!” Wanda exclaims, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She contemplates asking her burning questions, but with you observing from the side, she suppresses her urge to do so. Instead, she conveys her worry—she is, after all, his teacher.

“Is he… is he okay?”

Wanda's complexion turns ashen upon catching the look on Barnes' face, instantly realizing he's fully aware of her and Vision's relationship. She can barely hear Roger's response, her blood rushing in her ears.

“…that he’s stable. However, he remains in a coma. It’s uncertain when or if he’ll wake up, but let's hold onto hope.”

Oh.

Her secret's safe—for now. But she... she has to be certain. She needs to tie up any loose ends, if there are any.

It's reckless to visit Vision's apartment in daylight, especially right after a visit from the police.

Exiting her car, Wanda's sandals softly scrape against the ground. She pauses to scan her surroundings, her gaze flitting from one building to another. The neighboring houses and apartment complexes stand silent, their stillness almost eerie, as if they've been forsaken. She knows that not many reside in this part of the town, a fact that had made Vision's apartment an ideal hideaway for their secret meetings.

She cautiously approaches Vision's unit, her hand shaking slightly as it reaches for the door knob: locked. A memory surges—Vision handing her a spare key during one of their early encounters. Retrieving it from her bag, she hesitantly fits it into the lock, preparing herself for what she might find beyond the door.

It opens with a muted creak, and a blanket of darkness envelops her. Hesitating at the threshold, she fumbles for a light switch, her fingers brushing against the cool wall before finding it. She'd half-expected Vision's belongings to be packed up, perhaps by a landlord who wanted to move on from the situation. But everything appears untouched, as if frozen in time; dust hasn't settled, and the items scattered about give no indication that the place has been vacant for weeks. It occurs to her that the ongoing investigation might be the reason the apartment remains untouched.

Wanda moves quickly, knowing she shouldn’t linger. Heading straight to the bathroom, she swiftly gathers her toothbrush and a few other personal items she had left behind. As she emerges, her gaze is drawn to the corner where Vision's easel stands. It used to hold a portrait of her, a work he'd wanted to submit for his final project, capturing her in a light she had never seen herself. But now, it’s empty.

A cold rush of panic seizes her. She clutches the edge of a table, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Had Vision decided to move the painting for some reason? Or worse, had the detectives seen it and taken it as evidence? The painting wasn’t just art; it was tangible evidence of their affair.

But then, in the midst of her mounting fear, a memory jolts her—there was another painting, the one Vision had purchased from the gallery where she used to work. With a newfound urgency, she hurries to his bedroom. The scene is disarrayed, with sheets and pillows strewn about. Ignoring the mess, Wanda goes directly to the cabinet where she remembered he last stored it. She yanks open the doors, and her eyes dart around, searching, but the painting is nowhere to be found.

Desperation grips her. If the detectives come across either painting, they'd have more reasons to scrutinize her further than she's comfortable with. Such involvement would be near-impossible to hide from you. Wanda proceeds with caution, scanning the apartment for any lingering items that could connect her to Vision. Unexpectedly, she finds a piece of her lingerie nestled within his sock drawer. Swiftly, she snatches it up. Before departing, she meticulously wipes away any fingerprints from the surfaces she's touched, then dashes to her car.

Once inside, she pauses to draw several deep, steadying breaths. It's overwhelming to think that this is now her reality, teetering on the brink of exposure.

She eventually finds herself falling off the edge when she discovers Natasha’s email on your laptop, mere moments after the crushing realization that you hadn’t bothered to open her gift.

Her instinct is to craft a lie. She searches her mind rapidly, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for the intimate handhold. Maybe she could say it was an old friend from the past, or perhaps a distressed student she was comforting. But one glance at the photo and she knows, deep down, that any excuse would fall flat. The way Vision looks at her, with such unmistakable affection and wonder, betrays any innocence she might claim. Trying to explain this to you or anyone else would be an exercise in futility.

Wanda had played out various scenarios in her mind about how you might discover the truth, but she never imagined it would be through seeking the expertise of your best friend. It was perhaps naive, but she had hoped you wouldn’t notice anything or, if you did, that you'd confront her about it.

But why would you come to her? She's been pushing you away for months, and the only time she truly showed you how much you mean to her was when she was so relieved that she wouldn't be carrying the consequences of her indiscretions in her womb.

In case you need them, the subject of the email says. Need them for what? Wanda wonders. From the way Natasha worded the message accompanying the photos, it doesn't appear you're just discovering the truth now.

No, it seems that you’ve known for a while. Which means—

The pieces fall into place, a chilling realization creeping over her. Wanda's breath catches as she pushes the laptop away, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. The way you had carried yourself, especially around the police—it was far too serene, too measured. When they mentioned Vision's name, you didn't so much as flinch or even show a flicker of surprise.

Her heart beats painfully against her ribs. The calm demeanor, the calculated way you’d been moving about—it wasn't out of ignorance. You knew. And for how long? The thought terrifies her. How many days or weeks has she been living this lie while you watched, silently knowing everything?

Your silence, amplifying her betrayal, eats away at her conscience. The quiet before the storm, she thinks. And she's right in the middle of it.

“Wanda?”

She’s hiding in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror, practicing a smile and a thousand more expressions even though she's barely holding it together.

“Wanda.”

She couldn't shake the thought of you knowing. Did you have any involvement in Vision's accident? You've never intentionally hurt even the smallest creature, let alone another human being, right?

“Wanda!”

She nearly leaps out of her skin as the bathroom door slams open, and you stare back at her, looking just as startled and taken aback.

“Hey,” she says, forcing a smile.

You narrow your eyes at her, and she shivers under your intense scrutiny.

“Are you okay? You’ve been in here for almost an hour.”

Wanda nods quickly. “I'm fine.”

You continue to watch her for a moment, before saying, “Alright.”

Just as you're about to step away, Wanda remembers the plans for later. “About the dinner tonight,” she starts hesitantly, “with your colleagues from the bank... should we cancel?”

She's desperately hoping you'd say yes. She can't bear not knowing what's going on in your mind. The way you act as if everything's normal is suffocating her. Does she even still know the real you? Every moment you're not cursing her out or confronting her betrayal feels like an eternity.

But you shake your head. “No, let's do it. We already promised them.”

Wanda's heart sinks a little, but she nods in understanding.

“I'll go grab some wine real quick,” you say before leaving the bathroom, leaving Wanda alone once again with her thoughts.

Later, as the last of the guests leave, she's certain you've picked up on her distress, noticing how you kept glancing at your watch and drifting out of conversations. She senses your gaze on her as she escorts Scott and his wife to the car, acutely aware you're observing her every move from the bedroom window.

Though they're older than both you and Wanda, they've only been hitched for two years. Wanda can't help but wonder if maybe things are smoother for them because they waited to get married. But then a familiar warmth washes over her. The memory of how deeply in love she was with you surfaces. Even if you had waited six years to propose, she’s sure that had you suggested it within the first few months of dating, she would've said yes in a heartbeat.

Truth be told, she doesn't regret it now, the timing of it, and everything in between.

All she's uncertain of is how tonight will unfold.

The house lies shrouded in an inky stillness, almost like it’s holding its breath. She carefully climbs the stairs to the bedroom you both share, one uncertain step at a time. The door is slightly open, and you're standing by the window, your silhouette thin and brittle.

“What happened, Y/N?” she asks as she stops a few feet from you. Your eyes are closed, and your body trembles. Though she should be consumed by fear, her only desire is for you to open your eyes, hoping to find the person she fell in love with over a decade ago still there.

“What did you do? Did you cause his ‘accident’?” she continues. But you remain silent, unmoving. “Y/N?”

Still, nothing. Wanda is slowly but surely losing her sanity.

“Did you hurt him? You did, didn’t you? Jesus, Y/N. Talk to me,” Wanda pleads, and then out of desperation she screams, “Tell me what you did!”

“No!” You roar with a primal intensity, reminiscent of a wounded animal in the wild, and the sheer force of it makes Wanda recoil. But she doesn't move away from you. Not at this crucial moment, when she senses how close she is to losing you. “You tell me what you did!”

You stalk towards her menacingly, until you're mere breaths away, and Wanda wants to reach out and touch you, but she knows she'll be burned.

“How you fucked him over and over and over! How you lied to me… over and over and over,” you tell her brokenly.

“Y/N, please–”

“Don’t. You don’t get to talk to me now,” you say, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. “You didn’t think I’d know? I wouldn’t feel it? I knew from the very first night. Because I know you, Wanda. Every thought. Every look. Every fiber of your being. I know you and I fucking hate you! I didn’t want to hurt him, I wanted to hurt you!”

The confirmation she's been dreading, along with the murderous glint in your eyes, saps the color from Wanda’s face. “Oh my god,” she chokes out, hand clamping over her mouth in horror. “Y/N…”

You try to walk away, but your legs give out, and you crumple to the ground, knees first, like a puppet with its strings cut. The tears flow freely now, unburdened by pride or anger. A raw, guttural sob escapes your lips, echoing the pain in your chest. Wanda, too, collapses, a mirror reflection of your despair, her body shaking as sobs rack her frame.

How could she have ever been afraid of you, especially knowing what you've been through? Beneath it all, she sees the woman she deeply loves, now appearing so fragile and torn apart, all because of her own mistakes. “I'm so sorry...” she whispers, her apology a mere drop in the ocean of hurt between you.

“Was there anyone else aside from him?” you ask suddenly, looking at the carpeted floor before you.

“No,” Wanda answers earnestly.

You offer a wry smile. “He must be really special then.”

She frantically shakes her head. He's not. No one is. It's always been—

“Do you love him?”

“No,” Wanda responds hastily, almost too hastily for your taste. And by the look on your face, she's crushed by the realization that no matter what she says next, your trust in her words may be irrevocably broken. “I thought I did, but no,” she admits. She can't bear the thought of deceiving you further and aims to leave no question unanswered.

“Did you…” you start, staring intently at the ceiling, and Wanda knows exactly what you’re asking even before it comes out of your mouth. The fact that you have to ask leaves her utterly heartbroken.

“...ever love me?”

This was her doing. The very second she acted on impulse and succumbed to temptation was when she truly lost you.

“I love you,” Wanda murmurs, her tear-filled eyes meeting yours, stubborn for her words to reach you. “I know how fucked up that sounds to you right now. But I do, I love you, Y/N.”

“You love me?” your voice falters, making you wince. “You have a truly unique way of showing it.”

How does she prove it? How can she make you believe? Wanda scrambles for tactics, for miracles, for a do-over.

“After all this,” you continue, “you might as well have killed me. Being dead might be painless compared to this.”

“Baby, please don't say that,” Wanda's voice breaks, choked by tears she can't hold back. She feels the urge to reach out, her fingers itching to touch you.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore. Even hearing you say my name makes me sick.” Your voice is steady, each word dripping with cold resentment.

“You can stay,” you say after a while. Wanda senses a fragile hint of hope blossoming within her. But it's quickly crushed when you add, “Stay in this house, for as long as you need. But I'm leaving.”

And it’s here where the panic sets in. The realization that she's on the brink of losing you entirely, not just emotionally but physically as well, hits Wanda like a freight train. The walls of the room seem to close in on her, and the weight of her decisions and mistakes press heavily on her shoulders, making her feel as if she's sinking.

“No,” she whispers. “Please, don't go.”

You start to slide your wedding ring off, and that’s when Wanda loses it. She launches herself at you, capturing your lips into a heated kiss. In the split-second it takes for the golden loop to slip off your finger, a flood of memories rushes over Wanda—the scent of rain as it patters on the roof of the reception, the song playing in the background as you and Wanda sway to your first dance as a married couple, the warmth of your hand intertwined with hers. Those fragments play in a demented, rapid slideshow, and time stretches and contracts, maddeningly so.

For Wanda, it feels like someone's drilled a hole in the base of her skull, letting all the sorrow rush in like a merciless flood. Everything else is white noise. For that brief instant when her lips slot against yours, you don’t push her away. Wanda pours everything she has into this kiss, hoping you'll feel her truth in it. But then, before she even has the chance to deepen it, you’re pulling away and it’s—

It’s over.

Stubborn as always, Wanda tries to hide in your neck, and you feel her tears sliding down your throat. She clings to you with all her might, holding on for as long as she can. But when she feels you gently place your wedding ring into her palm, her face crumples with a pain so profound, she knows she may never recover from it. And then you begin to rise, lifting yourself from the floor. As she instinctively clings to your leg, you take another step, causing Wanda to stumble forward from the sudden loss of support.

“This can't be the end. It just can't,” Wanda murmurs to herself like a mantra, as if repeating it will change the course of reality. She's almost certain you hear her, but it doesn't change your stride; you just keep walking away.

The ring burns in her palm, a searing reminder that her promise of loving and cherishing you always means nothing to you now.

Wanda can't quite figure out how, but you've chosen to remain in the guest bedroom for the evening. She'd heard the engine of your car roar to life, but then it fell silent after just a few moments. Peering out, she’d seen you stepping out of the car, phone pressed to your ear.

Who had you been talking to? An intense curiosity had consumed Wanda, making her wonder who had been on the other end of that call. In the short window they'd been estranged—no, just temporarily separated, because Wanda refused to believe that you'd entirely lost your affection for her—could there have been someone else? Someone waiting in line for their turn?

Now, she stands hesitantly in front of the guest bedroom door, hands clenched in her sides, torn between giving you space and continuing to fight for her marriage. She's torn, but not clueless. It's not just about barging in or holding back; it's about the aftermath. She stands there, frozen, trying to figure out which move won't blow everything to smithereens. Because the time she has with you is running out and there might not be a tomorrow.

Or a you and her. Ever again.

Wanda finally sinks to the floor, her back flush against the cold, indifferent wood of the door. Sparky, pads over, his little claws making almost no sound against the floor. He nestles himself on her lap, making his bed there for the night. She wraps her fingers around his soft fur, his warmth seeping into her, but his presence is a double-edged sword. As much as she adores him, he's going to be the only thing of you she gets to keep, and it's going to be a painful reminder from here on out.

In an act of despair, she presses an ear flat against the door, searching for the tiniest murmur, the faintest shuffle. Anything to tell her what's happening on the other side of this barrier. A barrier that was never there before. She's on the outside, and the thought that you're moving on, building a life sans her, is terrifying.

It's a cruel irony, she realizes. Here she is, just a few inches from you, yet completely and utterly in the dark. And so, she sits, hoping against hope, that at some point during the night, she'd hear the door creak open, and you’d scoop her in your arms and take her back.

She waits, because that's what love does—it waits, even in the darkest of times.

The next morning, Wanda wakes up, surprised to find herself in a bed instead of on the hard, cold floor. She doesn't recall making the trip, but the idea that you cared enough to ensure she slept on something warm and comfortable almost makes her heart leap out of her chest.

However, her happiness is short-lived as she opens the closet and discovers that some of your things are missing. To a stranger, the differences wouldn't be obvious, but she knows which shirt and trousers you chose, and she understands the implication. It means you won't be returning tonight, and perhaps not tomorrow either. When she goes to the bathroom, she finds only one toothbrush, and that's enough to make tears well up in her swollen eyes once more.

“Thanks for picking up,” Wanda says, her fingers gripping the phone tight, holding onto it like she’s drowning and it’s her only lifeline.

“Well, you've called enough times. Figured I'd give you a break,” Natasha's voice, though distant, is biting, as frigid as the coldness that Wanda has been feeling in her bones these past days.

“I need to know where she is. Please.”

A sigh on the other end, followed by a chilling silence. “You think after everything, you still have the right to know her whereabouts?”

“She's still my wife,” Wanda counters, but it’s weak.

“She was your wife,” Natasha fires back, unrelenting. “The last I checked, people who love their partners don't sleep with college kids.”

The words hit Wanda harder than any physical blow could. She's taken aback, gasping for air as if she's been sucker-punched.

“I—”

“She loved you,” Natasha continues ruthlessly, “more than you ever deserved. And you threw it away, for what? Some fleeting thrill?”

Loved? Past tense? Had Natasha just assumed—

Or was that word coming directly from you?

Pushing down the slightest twinge of sympathy that threatens to surface, Natasha picks up on Wanda's faint, broken breaths on the other end. She can tell Wanda's on the verge, and it's familiar, too familiar. It's almost exactly the sound she caught when she was on the phone with you the other night.

“I never meant for this to happen,” Wanda barely manages to say.

“Well, it did,” Natasha snaps, her voice cold. “Intentions don’t change actions. And actions have consequences.”

Wanda’s voice comes off a little strong this time, thick with conviction. “Maybe I deserve this, Natasha. Maybe it’s my time to pay for all the wrongs I’ve done.”

“You think?” Natasha scoffs.

“But you... you’ll never get it. You’ll never understand why I can’t just let go, why I can’t give up on her,” Wanda says.

“And why’s that?”

Wanda's voice trembles with the knowledge that what she's about to say is a cheap blow. “Because you've never been married. You've never committed yourself to someone in the way I have with her.”

That stings, and Natasha can feel her own anger rising.

“Don’t think for a second that just because I’m not married, I don’t understand commitment, pain, or betrayal,” she says, voice low and measured.

Wanda swallows hard. “I didn't mean to—”

“Of course you didn't. But here we are, yet again,” Natasha cuts her off. She sighs, leaning back in her chair, “I’m not telling you where she is. She needs time, Wanda. Time away from you. If she wants to talk, she’ll find you.”

That's the last thing Wanda wants. She worries that distance will solidify your resolve, turning her from an immediate regret to a distant afterthought.

“I need to see her, Natasha,” Wanda pleads, “Just tell me where she is.”

“Why? So you can make things even worse?”

After a tense pause, Wanda plays her last card, “Remember that night after we all went out? The night you and Bruce...” she trails off, not needing to complete the sentence.

Natasha stiffens, instantly knowing where this is headed. “Don’t you dare, Wanda.”

Wanda forges on, “I never told anyone, never used it against you. I kept your secret. You owe me, Natasha.”

The feeling of Bruce's hand against her cheek, the humiliation, the denial—all of it comes rushing back. She never thought Wanda would throw that night back in her face.

“You're really going there?” Natasha laughs hollowly.

“I’m desperate, Natasha. I love her. I can’t lose her,” Wanda’s voice breaks.

The line goes quiet, stretching seconds into what seems like hours. Finally, Natasha exhales heavily, the weight of the decision clear in her tone. “I'll give you an address. Show up, try to talk to her, but if she asks you to leave, you respect her wishes. Understand?”

Wanda swallows dryly. She knows Natasha can enforce her terms if she wants, which means she has no other choice but to comply. “Understood.”

Natasha's parting words would later linger in her mind for hours.

“This doesn't mean I've forgiven you or that she ever will. But you get your shot. Make it count.”

Wanda’s been standing outside the diner for what feels like a long time. She hopes her outfit—a parka over a crisp white v-neck and high-waisted jeans—makes a good impression. A glance in the reflection of the diner’s window confirms her red hair looks glossy and radiant, cascading in waves down her back.

Time and time again, Wanda had turned over every conceivable strategy to win you back. But in the end, they all hinged on the one thing she feared most: agreeing to a divorce. The very thought threatened to break her from the inside, but her desperation to make things right, to show you that she's changed, made this painful decision a necessary one. Wanda had taken so much from you, taken everything you had to offer and discarded it carelessly. Now, it was her turn to give something back, even if it meant letting you go, legally.

She tells herself, repeatedly, that their love story isn't defined by a marriage certificate. They won't end just because their marriage does. She had to believe this; it was the only way she could find the strength to move forward.

Steeling herself, Wanda takes one step forward. Another. Until finally, she’s there.

“Hey,” Wanda greets, doing her best to sound casual as she slides into the booth opposite you.

You give a nonchalant nod, mouth full of your Reuben sandwich. “Hi, Wanda.”

The scent of your cologne is the first thing that hits her, and it’s... different. This one's sharper, crisper, with a hint of citrus, perhaps. It's as if you're purposely shedding parts of yourself that she's grown accustomed to, distancing yourself in the most elemental ways. There's a new watch on your wrist, sleeker than the one she gifted you on your last anniversary. Even the way you hold yourself seems altered, shoulders squared and posture more rigid. Every detail screams of a transformation, a conscious effort to morph into someone she wouldn't recognize.

But why? To hurt her? To move on? To forget? All of the above? It's been just a week, yet the differences are already evident. Wanda dreads to think how much more will change if she goes months without seeing you.

This isn’t going to be easy, and that’s putting it mildly. “Sorry for cornering you like this. You rarely return my calls and it’s been almost impossible to match our schedules,” Wanda admits.

You concentrate on chewing your food, trying to appear perfectly disinterested in what she’s saying. As you take another bite of your sandwich, Wanda studies her intently, looking for any fleeting sign of emotion, but there’s nothing there but a chilling detachment.

“Natasha told me you’re already talking to divorce lawyers,” she continues. She's woken up next to you for more than a decade; she’s not easily deterred by the display of indifference. “If you’re decided that it’s what you really want, then I’ll give it to you. I’ll cooperate.”

“Okay.”

Wanda notices the fleeting moment your eyes dart to her left ring finger before you quickly look away.

“I, uh, got something for you,” she says.

“No, thanks.”

Wanda’s heart sinks as you dismiss her before even knowing what it is. Determined, she pulls out the small ring box and places it on the table, feeling a pang in her chest. “But it belongs to you,” she murmurs.

“What’s this?”

“It’s your wedding ring,” she says, pointing out what you already know. Your expression darkens, frustrated that she misses the underlying meaning of your question—not about the ring itself, but rather its significance right now.

For a split second, Wanda harbored a fragile hope that seeing the ring might stir something within you.

But then you're shaking your head, beginning to say, “I don’t want—”

“I understand,” she says, her shoulders sagging as she leans back into the booth. “But I'm returning it to you, and I’m keeping mine. What you decide to do with it is up to you. However, holding onto it on your behalf isn't something I can do.”

The ring she slipped onto your finger five years ago held all her promises, all her devotion to you. So it hurt that you no longer accepted that, no longer recognized it as yours. And she didn't want to be the guardian of that pain anymore.

“Fine,” you say, reaching for the tiny box and Wanda releases a heavy sigh of relief.

“So, you've got your ring back, and I'll sign the divorce papers once they're drawn up,” she says, mustering all her courage for what she's going to say next. “And then, I'll come for you.”

She watches in surprise as you nearly spit out your coffee, a few droplets escaping past your lips. As you hurriedly reach for a napkin, Wanda can't help but offer a gentle smile, always finding your occasional clumsiness endearing even in the middle of breaking her heart.

Your wide-eyed stare meets hers, speechless.

Her smile fades slightly, replaced by a melancholic self-awareness. “I didn’t want to believe you when you told me that night that you hated me. But I guess that’s better than indifference.”

“I don't hate you, Wanda,” you say. She can tell you're telling the truth, and she smiles a little at that.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” she laments. “Thank you.”

She takes a deep breath, knowing she needs to be clear, to lay everything on the table. “I’m not going to give up on you, Y/N. On us. What we have, and I’ve thought a lot about it, is something I’ll never find in another.”

“I’m not telling you this to get a reaction out of you,” she continues, “I know you’re not exactly thrilled at the idea of me pursuing you, but,” she falters, the first sign of her vulnerability. “This time, I want you to know everything. I don’t want you to be blindsided by my intentions, so I’m giving you a heads-up.”

“Wands,” you say, the nickname slipping effortlessly from your lips, and she has to fight the instinctual urge to reach for your hand across the table. “You can’t torture yourself like this.”

“I’m not,” she assures you. “I just refuse to give up on my dream.” She senses the skepticism in your eyes, and she can't blame you, not after everything that happened in the recent weeks. You’re my dream, Wanda had confidently and lovingly written in her vows. The memory of that day, with the weight of those words, is as vivid in your mind as it is in hers.

She's always been the type to hold onto what she loves, never letting go without a fight. But seeing the dark circles under your eyes, the sunken weight of your cheeks, she knows the very sight of her is taking a toll on you. And so, she’s leaving, for your sake.

“I'll see you soon,” Wanda says, getting up to leave. She hesitates for a moment, considering whether to go for your cheek, if you'll allow her. However, the lack of response from you pushes her to take small, shaky steps toward the door and out of the restaurant.

It isn’t over. Wanda’s made up her mind: she won't give up on you. Maybe she's the villain in this story; and hell, there's probably someone out there, all primed and polished, perfectly poised to love you without the scars and rough edges. Except, she doesn’t care, even if she knows she’ll be diving headfirst into the storm.

She swears that someday she'll be on her knees, asking you to marry her again.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x vision #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #my writing #category: angst #iss #my fic #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #natasha romanoff #vision

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misslovasstuff · 7 months

Text

“Something else”

Sanji x reader

summary: after a long day, you and your boyfriend find yourselves comforting each other. Soon that comforting turns into something else.

Tags/warnings: opla!Sanji x fem!reader, suggestive nsfw language, unprotected sex, sexual language, degenerate language and kinks… (first time writing smut, kinda nervous)

author’s note: although I think of Sanji as a power bottom (so i might have included some praise there as well) I just know how thirsty yall are for a dominant Sanji, especially if he calls you his bitch, lol. Anyways, enjoy.

“Finally alone. - you sigh, putting strands of hair behind your ear as you allow to watch Sanji with the corner of your eye as he closes the bedroom door. - It was such an exhausting day.”

“Agreed. - he sighs as he approaches you with a smile. - good thing we’re here for each other.”

He places a kiss on your forehead, hand caressing your cheek whilst his eyes seem to be putting some sort of magic on you, pulling you closer and making your head spin like coming across an hypnosis, strong enough to shake you off.

Don’t look at me with those eyes.” - you say with a terrible blushing voice, covering his face with your hand, slightly pushing him away from your embrace.

“Mhm? - he hums, pulling you by the waist and kissing your shoulder. - Since when are you so shy around me?”

Sanji asks with a teasing smile as you rest your hands on his chest, slightly blushing.

“Do I still make you nervous although we’ve been together for a while now?” - he keeps planting soft kisses on the skin of your shoulder, travelling to the collarbones, pulling down your coverage a little.

“S-sanji… - you gasp, not expecting him to be all over you right now. - I’m always nervous when I’m with you like this.”

He listens to your voice becoming shaky as he grabs your neck gently, devouring it with kisses and small love bites which only made him more eager.

“You can relax and enjoy it with me, love. - he kisses your ear and whispers. - I always make you feel good, no?”

As he leans you in his bed, his hot breath hits your cold skin, making you shiver. No matter how many times he touches you, your body loses all muscle memory and it feels like it’s the first time over and over again.

Sanji grabs your waist with one hand travelling up from your back, tracing your skin with his fingers. He stops for a moment and looks at you directly in the eyes with a smirk.

He unleashes your bra, a trick he’s mastered fully, taking in the satisfaction of seeing such a lewd expression on your face.

“Be a darling and take the shirt off for me, would you? - he says, taking your wrist and kissing it. - No princess treatment for you tonight though.” - Sanji watches you take off your top, revealing your already unhooked bra hanging over your breasts.

Usually, Sanji would praise you all the time during foreplay. He’d kiss you softly and gently, tracing your curves and calling you his princess. From time to time he’d ask you what you wanted from him and he’d always give it to you. Tonight however, -

“Tonight you’re my bitch.”

Your eyes open wide. Although Sanji had never called you that before, it was impossible to deny that something had just awakened in you.

“Your what?” - you face flushes red, not noticing him going down in your chest, biting your bra and putting it aside.

He’s a smart man who can read you like no other. Sanji knew what would take to make your shyness go away, and he’s doing exactly that.

He starts messaging your breasts while pressing his thumbs on your already hard nipples, getting a cute reaction out of your pretty mouth.

He wants to feel you moaning in his mouth, thus his lips soon enough crash harshly against yours without warning. He grabs your chin, tilting it down with his thumb:

“Open wide.”

Once you follow his command, his tongue starts playing with yours as never before, sucking on it all while his fingers played with your nipples and slowly travelled down your waist and lower stomach, caressing your soft skin.

“Bitch.” That kept playing in your head repeatedly as Sanji touches you, various fantasies playing in your mind like a film for which your face was Sanji’s movie theatre.

“You have anything against it? - he asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow. With that, you shake your head which makes him smirk. - Thought so.”

Your lips become so soft and wet when he kisses you, usually. But now, he bites them, sucks on them and licks them with no hesitation as he takes a strong grip around your waist.

Sanji moves his hand on your back, making you arch it so your bodies touch in the right places.

Unconsciously, as you are completely drown in his kisses, you start grinding against him, leaving out some desperate moans which he reciprocated in your mouth.

“Someone’s getting excited. - he says, plugging his nails into your skin ever so slightly, but still making your body shiver with immense pleasure. - You can’t wait to get dicked down, can you?”

With that question, you nod with a whine.

It can’t be helped. Heavy breaths between kisses, parts which are touching briefly but screaming to get nearer, sloppy lips and trembling legs, everything adding up was making you lose your composure.

“S-sanji… - you moan his name, running your fingers through his hair as you grind harder against him. - P-please…”

“Please what?” - he asks, looking down as your crotch desperately touches his.

With a whine, you touch his belt, pulling him closer.

He smiles and says: “now now, - he grabs your hand and place it in your what he liked to call his pet. - if you’re so impatient, might as well play with yourself until I decide to go down on you.”

Now you’ve completely staring to lose it. He has never asked this before. Whatever switched on him tonight, it’s also switching you up for good. As it goes, you follow his instruction and start touching yourself. Your fingers work their way through under your skirt, only to feel how wet you already had gotten.

“Good girl. - his voice deep and husky as he gazes at your every move. - Feeling good already? - he caresses your thighs with his fingers. - No wonder, a whore like you would get off this easily.”

His words only arouse you more as you let out moans while rubbing yourself slowly and gently. He smirks whilst watching your face literally melting, as you bite your lip and stare into his eyes, as if you were giving him a little show.

“Look at you, - he scans you from head to toe, seeing your body in full ecstasy. - so hot and bothered tonight.”

You moan, one hand in your wet cunt and the other on your mouth as you try to hold yourself from letting out any more lewd sounds. Meanwhile, your man is watching your hand moving under your white skirt.

“I want to enjoy the view, if you don’t mind.” - he grabs your skirt and pulls it down in one try.

So fucking hot of him.

You grab his collar, making Sanji’s body hover over yours. After moaning in his ear, you whisper:

“If I’m your bitch you gotta treat me like one. - you say, untying the buttons of his shirt eagerly. - so give me your cock already, Sanji.”

Something snapped in your lover’s eyes the moment you grabbed his collar and whispered those words. It was pure excitement, growing more evident with each passing moment.

“Love, if you were so horny to begin with you should have just come to me, - he explains, cupping your cheek. - But it’s too late for that now so I might as well cum in you. You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes yes, I want you to fill me up, please.” - you whine, parting your legs as you come close to climaxing from touching yourself so desperately.

His mind goes crazy. Sanji takes off his shirt and reveals the body you so much adored all while you unbuckle his belt, attempting to lower his pants when he pushes you against the bed.

He takes the hand which you were teasing yourself with and kisses it, purposely not letting you hit your orgasm. His head goes down to your inner thighs, sucking on them until reaching your zone to which he forms a smirk.

“I wish you could see what I’m seeing. - he says, starting to rub your clit and sucking through the fabric of your panties. - Such a wet mess, all for me.”

You try to restrain your moans, but Sanji was making you almost come with your panties on, let alone what’d happen if he -

“Ah!”- you moan loudly as the blonde pulls down your panties and sucks on your clit while teasing two fingers around your hole. - Ah, fuck, Sanji!”

You whine, pushing your head back and pulling his hair once he puts them in and out slowly at first, only to pick up the pace as he hears your moans go louder.

“Fuck? - he hums, the vibration hitting your zone. - Fuck what, love? This tight hole of yours?”

Shameless. He’s going completely out to eating you like an animal.

You don’t know what has gotten into him but, it was so fucking hot. No matter what, Sanji always goes down on you with so much love. His tongue seems like it’s programmed to find your most sensitive spots and make you feel blessed.

His fingers pick up the pace, making you shout his name multiple times before coming close again.

“let me, Sanji… - you beg, seeing how the your precious love-cook had no intention on letting you finish that easily. He was already making you numb with his fingers alone. - Just let me come already, why you gotta be so mean?!”

“Asking won’t get you nowhere. - he says, inserting his tongue deep into you. - And calling me mean makes you sound like an ungrateful slut, love.”

“Sluts should be thankful then? How can I thank you?” - You lick your lips as you observe his tie still being the only piece of clothing he has on his torso, making him look so sexy. Truly, you swore to yourself you’d let this man do unspeakable things but also a part of you wanted to drive him crazy, make him whimper and cry under your touch.

“Thank me? Oh, trust me love you’re doing enough. - he claims, noticing you’re close. - But if you’re feeling so grateful, might as well finish like the good girl you are.”

It doesn’t take long before you finish on his face, letting out a scream of ecstasy.

Thus, you grab his tie, still hardly breathing, making him to look up to you.

He meets your gaze and licks his lips.

“Fuck, - you cuss out, - you look so pretty like that.”

Once he hears the satisfaction in your voice, Sanji smirks and approaches:

“You want to taste yourself, darling?”- he asks and you nod, pulling him by his collar, kissing him so deeply that he could swear feeling your tongue going down his throat.

“Who’s the bitch now?”- you smirk, attempting to catch him off guard. Little did you know that there was no taming him tonight. Once his eyes meet yours, watching his gaze, you gulp:

“How about you tell me? -

He opens your mouth with his long and tender fingers, inserting two of them in there. You moan, looking at his blue grey eyes intensely.

“Yes, just like that. - he says breathily, - look at that this mouth can do, goodness…”

You suck on his fingers, licking your own cum from them so eagerly. Sanji caresses your cheek with his other hand and says:

“Someone is growing too desperate, - he pushes your bottom lip down with his thumb, - such a needy whore you are.”

Fuck.

Seeing Sanji all worked up like this; his smoky eyes looking down on you, his golden hair already a mess, his tie still hanging on his chest and those strong arms of his that are now surrounding you, his body hovering yours. You felt protected, loved and cared for, but most of all…

“Please Sanji, do me now harder than ever…” - you manage to say breathily, whining about how much you needed him inside of you now.

“You sure? - he starts to take off his shorts painfully slowly. - You want me to fuck you hard, love?”

You bite your lip and nod, looking at Sanji’s hands whilst he unbuckles his pants, leaving you with a great view to witness as he reveals his cock already hard and striving to get deep within you.

“Beg for it.”

He demands while stroking his cock, making you even more eager than before.

“I … - words are hardly coming out of you as your mind is distracted at him touching himself like that.

He teases your entrance with his tip.

“Sanji! - as you moan his name, Sanji smirks and asks again:

“Beg.”

You turn to look away as you stutter out your desperation: “Please, Sanji, please… I can’t take much more of this torture, put your slutty cock where it belongs.”

“Look at me, - he holds your chin up, - you’ll do as I say if you want me to -

Sanji interrupts himself with a groan once his thing grinds against your entry because of your sudden hip movement. You were clearly teasing him and he knows and… he likes it.

“Fuck, - he cusses out, as he grinds his thing against your entry, stroking himself harder, knowing that you were already wet enough and ready for him, - this is gonna be so good, love. I’ll fuck my pretty whore so so good.”

Your eyes shut and your hands clench into the bed sheets, eyes gazing over his cock which looked so good in his hand, slowly entering you. Once you feel the tip going in, your mouth is already drooling. Sanji groans, feeling his length wrapped up all good by your tight walls.

He places a hand on your lower stomach, feeling proud of himself because of how deep he is within you. Then, all that confidence and amusement is reflected in his eyes which turn to yours, easily reading through them and realising how much you loved him doing you like this.

“Ahhh, love. - he moans, beginning to thrust into you slowly. - you’ve been waiting for this all day or what? You’re clenching so good around me.”

As your body gets hotter and hotter, his words only add gasoline to the fire burning inside of you.

“Hnngh, Sanji… - the way his name drops out your mouth like honey, how you grab into his arms as his thrusts become stronger, the way you bite your lip and keep whining about how amazing it feels… all of this was making Sanji experience sensations out of this world. - you’re so good to me.”

“Is that so? - his breath gets heavier, a hand travelling up your throat, grabbing with a light grip on it. - show me how good you feel then. I want you to keep moaning like the dirty bitch you are.”

“Ahhh, fuck… - you shout out loud, feeling his dick go deeper with every thrust. His hand chokes your neck, thumb reaching to your lower lip, brushing it off gently.- Sanji!”

“That’s right, baby. - he groans, surrendering as he clenches his hands on the sheets while looking at your pretty face. You put your hands around his shoulders, scratching it with your nails.

“You wanted my cock so badly didn’t you? - Sanji grabs a hold of your hips, pushing them down with each thrust. - Tell me how bad you want it.”

“I… ahhh shit… - you try to blur out the words. - I want you to break me, love.”

With those words, Sanji takes a hold of your legs and puts them over his shoulders, giving you a new angle which made both of you moan loudly as the pace of his thrusts increases.

“F-fuck, baby… - he stutters, biting his lip as he puhes his head back with a groan. - letting me fuck you like this, what a good girl you are… yes… yes you’re so … ahhh..”

“Sanji, - your hand reaches to pull him in but he reacts quickly, taking a hold of both of your hands and holding them with his on top of your head. - you’re enjoying it right? You like violating my pussy like that, don’t you?”

“Hnghh, s-shut your mouth…” - he says, panting heavily.

“I thought you wanted it opened wide?”

“For fucks sake… - he shakes his head with a smirk. - you want me to fuck your mouth too? Needy slut, wants me to go down her throat until she can hardly breathe.”

“Ahh, yess… - you exclaim, - but finish this first-

Sanji interrupts you as he tightens the grip he has on your hands, staring at your chest as your boobs bounce back and forth. Irresistible, he thinks as he leans in to suck on your nipples. His tongue goes on circular motions, soft lips pulling and slightly biting them. He gropes them with his other hand, as he keeps thrusting, he slaps your boobs and massages them harshly.

“Who knew you liked it rough too… - he smirks as he gets closer to whisper in your ear, his hand still grabbing yours as he caresses your palm with his thumb, - you wanted to be a whore for me, - you feel his cock getting even harder inside you, - you wanted me to slut you out.”

He was right, such a mess you were for him. He grabs onto your thighs, sticking his nails and biting them, leaving a hickey or two before feeling himself getting closer and closer to climaxing.

“Sanji I can’t last longer, - you try to pull away from his grip as your hands were desperate to touch him, - I want you to cum in me, please.”

“What’s that? - he smirks between heavy breaths, - my pretty slut has reached her limit? Alright then, - he lets go from your hands, - be a darling and cum all over my cock.”

“Fuuuuck, - you moan, holding onto his strong biceps as you both finish simultaneously. Your wish comes true as he fills you up inside with his warm semen, dripping out your hole. He came a lot, more than usual.

After a loud groan, he collapses on your body, still trying to catch his breath.

“Goodness… - you say, patting the back of his head. - Sanji?”

You check on him only to see a wide smile on his face.

“What a perv…” - you say with a smile on your face as he chuckles.

“I figured that you love every version of me. - he claims, wrapping himself up your arms.

“Of course I do, - you bite your lip before you claim:

Next time I’ll show you something else.”

Sanji widens his eyes, as his lips can’t stop forming a smile.

Something else, huh?

770 notes · View notes

nouearth · 9 months

Text

because i love you.

jason todd x male reader.

summary: your birthday is a memory you often ignore. jason is determined to forge a new, unforgettable one.

wc: 3k. genre: fluff, comfort. warnings: domestic!au, crying, descriptions of food.

a/n: happy belated birthday, anon! i know this was late, but i wanted to priortize this over my other requests before it would be even later, LOL. hope you had a great one, and that this was a gift to remember!

request: anon.

“so,” a gruff voice briefly broke your focus from peering through the oven door, but the cookies had seconds left in the oven, so you'd figure a hum to acknowledge jason's presence would suffice.

it was a painful and mundane process to squat and watch the cookie batter form into heavenly, ooey-gooey chocolatey goodness. sure, you could’ve done something to pass the time—finish your backlog of books, or even the tv dramas you promised your friends you would finish soon—but the cookies always came out perfect like this.

once, you decided to do laundry while letting the cookies bake. as soon as the oven rang, the thought of over-baking your perfected recipe of cookies, that everyone had gleefully devoured and expected at every potluck, chased you faster than a wild fox could. to your bewilderment (and exhaustion), a few seconds longer in the oven changed the texture of the baked treats. though no one noticed, even if you insisted that the taste changed as well, it ruined your entire day and since then, you’ve made a silly promise to yourself to never let these cookies out of your sight.

even if your boyfriend was squatting with you, kissing you at the neck now.

“earth to (m/n),” his lips brushed deep into your skin, and you could hear him inhaling your natural scent. for a minute there, he forgot you were baking, so the smell of chocolate and brown sugar certainly awakened an unexpected appetite in him. it growled.

“hello.” jason stretched a whisper into your neck, and you chuckled when his gruff voice tickled you, vowels vibrating lowly into your skin.

“someone’s needy.” you turned to finally greet him with a smile, some kind of acknowledgement, and he begrudgingly accepted it with a kiss. it was almost as sweet as the sugar crystals in the cookie batter he sampled earlier.

two more minutes now.

“guess i’ll have to bake myself into a cookie to get your attention these days,” jason muttered, pressing his chest to your broad back. the heat from the oven radiated in front of you, yet your back felt warmer.

your head leaned back on his shoulder, grinning towards his frown while he tucked his chin in the vacant space between your neck and shoulder. “whoa, are you envious of my cookies now? that’s kind of sick considering you inhale them within seconds after i take them out of the oven—“

“i eat anything.” jason stated dryly, his palms roamed over your stomach to chase his appetite away as if your body and his were connected. his lips found your neck again, adding to the flush of your skin while one hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts to satiate a different craving. your legs slowly sprawled to accommodate his inviting touch, humming. “they make a great pre-workout.”

and with the close of your legs, access had been denied. “so, they’re not delicious like you’ve been claiming?”

jason widened his eyes, yanking his hand out of your shorts to put his hands up defensively. “wait, no. that’s not— okay, we’re getting off-topic!”

“hey,“ the oven sang, and with a delighted hop, you abandoned your boyfriend on the floor to tend to your long-awaited baked goods. “you’re the one that brought it up!”

the smell of chocolate and sugar billowed in the air when you opened the oven, and jason’s appetite returned like a parasite once the delicious aroma hit his nose.

it hadn’t been that long since you’ve started baking, but your hobby had quickly become a beloved activity (and expense), and your affection for it was telling through the wear and tear of your oven mitts. you burned yourself a few times when the baking sheet pressed into various ripped holes, but despite jason’s concern, you never found it damaged enough to purchase a new one. besides, it didn’t take very long to learn the pattern of the hot spots.

two baking sheets, filled with freshly-baked cookies, slid onto the stovetop, and you closed the oven, turning it off after. steam rose from the bloomed batter and you marveled at the sight: rustic, crinkly brown doughs that harbored mounds of comfort and nostalgia in one snack. though for some people, in one bite. the smell hits you after, stung your nose with brown sugar and chocolate chips, and you approved the batch with a deep inhale.

“what did you want to talk about?” a crack of kosher salt was topped to the cookies, adding to the rustic presentation of the baked goods.

“well,” the smell of the cookies pulled him back to his feet, then by your side as he watched the chunky salt enchant the goods to a higher level. “it’s someone’s birthday soon.” though he knew not to, he reached out to sample an edge of the dough anyway.

“careful,” you watched him with amusement and high curiosity, eyebrows raised to inquire him of the taste. though you knew the answer by the time the chocolate hit his tongue, it was tenfold more interesting than the topic of your birthday. “what about it?” you asked, and he hummed in approval, greed guiding his hand back to the piping hot cookies.

“so—ow,” the heat bit at jason’s fingers and his hand yanked back to immediately flick remnants of the sting off. “didn’t you want to do anything? a party? dinner? you never even told me what you wanted for your gifts.”

“hm,” you took the oven mitts off and directed the draft towards the steam with quick and light swings, then towards jason’s fingers as he began picking at the chocolate that oozed out. “i never took you as someone who cared about birthdays that much.”

“yeah, well,” he blew on his chocolate stained finger once more before pressing it to your smile. “we’re learning more about each other every day, aren’t we?”

“and it’s kind of incredible how you haven’t dumped me yet.” you laughed and licked the bittersweet stain off your lips. jason only joined with a mere chuckle. he never liked it when you talked about yourself like this.

“seriously though,” jason leaned on the counter with his elbow, nudging your waist with a gentle pat. his hair delicately parted to the side, watching you like you were the only one. “what do you want to do? we can do whatever you want.” devouring the cookies was the last thing on his mind now.

you’re the only one.

“jason,” the steam slowly waft in the air as you averted your gaze to the cookies cooling. salt glinted under the lights, and they have never looked sweeter. “it’s sweet of you and i appreciate it, but…” yet, there was a bitter aftertaste when you nibbled on a crumble. “i don’t really celebrate my birthday.”

“what?” his immediate instinct was to hold you, taking you by the waist as if it could protect you from the memory of the past. “how come? did something bad happen?”

“no, no. nothing like that!” laughing it off always helped you alleviate the bitterness of your thoughts. “it’s just…” but for some reason, your throat began to swell when you do.

“just…?” jason pressed his hand to your waist in a heartfelt attempt at squeezing an answer out of you. “come on, i’m at the edge of my seat here.”

you laughed, taking his hand off and then into your own, as you guided him out of the kitchen and to the living room. the sweet smell was dizzying now. plus your legs hurt from the squatting earlier. you needed some place to snuggle yourself into. preferably, your couch.

“my family could never afford stuff, so it hasn’t been a thing since…” a yawn escaped your lips as you found comfort into the embrace of jason’s arms. his broad chest was a pillow you never asked for, and these days, you found it to be the best solace your head demanded for. “i guess when i was eight?”

“oh,” jason realized, then began stroking the side of your head as an apology. “i didn’t mean to pry or—“

“it’s no big deal.” in between his caresses, you quickly tilted your head back to press a kiss to his palm—a measurement to dispel his worries. “i’ve spent a longer part of my life not celebrating it, so it’s just a norm now! honestly, i didn’t even notice that my birthday was coming up until you mentioned it to me.”

closing your eyes, images of your family appeared in soft, fading blurs. they smiled through gritted teeth, as did you, and sweated through hard labor of work that managed to put food on a table. “and i also don’t blame my parents, if that’s what you’re thinking. i did at first, but shit happens.”

though, never a cake.

“you really do nothing since then, though? not even cook yourself dinner or something?” the affection caresses spread to your cheeks and the warmth pulled at the corners of your mouth into a smile.

“i did once,” you shifted to connect your warmth to his. in midst, you were reminded that the smell of jason’s cologne will always triumph over the scent of your cookies. “but it just kind of made things sad, to be honest. it felt weird.”

“but you celebrated my birthday.” the memories warmed him. “for someone who never celebrated their own, you sure knew how to throw a great party.” laughter, a delicious dinner, and drink shenanigans echoed in passing. “even if it was only us.”

you chuckled at the irony of it all, satisfied that you’ve managed to impress your boyfriend despite your inexperience.

“well,” glancing up, you then held jason’s doting stare, collected it into your soul, and then sealed it into a vault.

“that’s because i love you.”

the stroll from your car and to your apartment seized all the energy left in you. aside from carrying bags of groceries, the heavy weight slowly drained your arms of life, the long day of work had a major factor to your exhaustion. awaiting approvals while you were approaching a tight deadline was never ideal, but luckily it got extended, so you can sleep a teensy-bit better tonight.

grunting, your veins pulsed when you lifted the heavy bags with one arm to punch in the code to your keypad, refusing to be defeated by packs of frozen fruit, greek yogurt, jason’s protein powder, and his mandatory cereal boxes. the beep and green light compelled a satisfied noise out of you and you immediately bouldered into your apartment, stumbling through the garden of your shoes and jason’s, and into the kitchen within a single, hurried stride.

“jase?!” you grunted loud from below, setting the groceries down as soon as the handles pressed into a certain spot in your vein that made you wince. jason’s voiced boomed from above.

“yeah?!”

as much as you hated it when jason left his soda out, today would be an exception. you downed it in one dreamy gulp, and you could feel your body absorb the sugars, working overtime to churn it into energy afterward.

“can you put the groceries back for me?! i want to go shower!” the kitchen sink alleviated some of that humidity built atop your hands, but you needed it off your body.

“yeah!” jason shouted out. “i’ll be down in a sec!”

it took you a moment, still high from the amount of energy you’ve exerted within the short amount of time, but the air smelled sweetly familiar. of vanilla, brown sugar, a hint of cinnamon, you sniffed out.

must’ve baked the cookies i froze for him. you looked around, a sudden desperate need for another ounce of sugar in your body after your commendable performance today.

and of course, he ate them all.

as soon as you came up the stairs, jason met you outside with a kiss—a password to your bedroom, you’d reckon.

your arms opened up for a hug. “they didn’t have the flavor you wanted, so i—“ but embracing the body of your lover, they were immediately occupied by a pile of your clothes for the night.

“yeah, yeah! that’s fine.” jason began nudging, then pushing you to the bathroom, scrunching his face. “you stink, go shower.”

“wait, why are you acting—“ bewilderment passed you as you stumbled back, and your curiosity was met by more push back, literally. the latter looked nerved, unusually antsy, and that was never a good sign. “jason, are you okay—“

“uh-huh, yeah! yeah, yeah. fine.” before you could even get another question out, the door slammed shut. “wash up! i’m gonna put the groceries back!”

oooookay..?

it took a few beats to register what exactly happened, but all of it was buried to the back of your mind as soon as you started the shower. refreshing and cooling as that soda you downed earlier.

damn, i should’ve restocked on that…

the cold draft cooled your damp skin when you stepped out the bathroom, releasing harbored humidity, and your stress for the day left along with it.

“hey,” your voice echoed while you stepped downstairs, expecting jason to either be on the couch or in the kitchen, most likely eating away at your snacks. “what do you want to eat for dinner—“

“jason?” instead, you were met with complete darkness—well, as dark as it could be while impending dusk approached your windows.

he wasn’t on the couch, entertainment-free.

you stepped into the kitchen. not there, either. the groceries were put away, but the plastic bags were scattered around the floor. not a single soul, a whisper, or a sound, except for the crinkle of the bags as you stashed them into your recyclables.

either the shower cleared your sinuses, or jason plugged in a new wall fragrance, because the smell was sweeter compared to before. chocolate in its new top note, and vanilla, again, in its base.

it was strange, you checked the oven. though it was warm, nothing was out of place. then the fridge, nope—jason didn’t stash any leftovers there. once again, catalogued the entire kitchen, suspiciously nothing.

you figured you’ll ask jason about it later, whenever he would come back, but for now, your priority was satiating that grumble in your stomach. as you browsed through your fridge for ingredients after turning on the lights, the cooling air wafted the sweetness away, only for it to return stronger.

and just as quick as the smell of chocolate returned, the lights flickered off.

“what the—“ you turned, and your curiosity was immediately startled by the presence of the missing man. “jesus, jason. where were—“

the only source of light that lit the room came from a soft yellow blur that flickered near jason’s chin. gentle, then not so when he took a step. another waver of light when the draft caught onto the light as he approached you. the light grew bigger, flickered stronger, as if it was connected to your heart and memorized every beat, and the smell of chocolate was pleasantly stringent to your nose.

cake.

it was a chocolate cake all along, and jason held it with a smile that had been shadowed by the candle. anxiously, you’ve never seen him wore it with a grin before, but it made your heart skip another beat, then two when he confessed.

“happy birthday,” the dark of your orbs refracted the candlelight, yellow and orange light reunited with a wave, several excited waves as if they’ve lost you, and the smoke burning off it cooled the impending wetness of your eyes.

“what— what is this?” your breath hiked, and the candles found it calming, like the sea breeze as it brushed against them—through them. “what are—“

it felt like an eternity since you’ve been celebrated. no, it had been an eternity.

tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you felt years pass by, heard the cries of a child that received nothing.

the first year, it was because you were expecting of it. a gift that was never promised, but your hands were bare of nothing.

the second year, it was hope. something that clung onto because you were promised something.

the third year. it was denial. it had to be this year, right? you rocked yourself to sleep the night before.

the fourth year. anger. you screamed as if a gift was the only testament in the world to truly display a parent’s love for their child.

then, the fifth year. acceptance.

and since, you’ve matured, learned why, and thought it was for the better.

“make a wish,” jason said calmly, breaking you from the spell of your own thoughts.

“what?” you croaked weakly.

years of sheltering your birthday made you clueless, but luckily, jason was here to teach you—to remind you.

“make a wish, then blow.” as much as he wanted to hold you right now, he couldn’t risk his hard work dropping to the floor.

“oh—“ you did as you were told. you wished silently, closing your eyes until another swell of tears were forced to roll out, then blew.

when jason turned the lights back on, the sight of the cake pulled a laugh out of you. slanted in its position, chocolate smeared all over the cake board, thick icing to cover up the mistakes, you laughed until you wiped tears.

“did you bake this for me?” you snickered, taking the cake and setting it down, because you needed to hug him, embrace him, squeeze him.

“god,” jason laughed, pressed a kiss to your head as he took you in with a strong hug. “if i bought a cake that looked like that, i’d demand two refunds. one for the cake, and one for the happiness they swindled from me.”

“i told you not to, though!” you playfully beat at his chest, the blush on your cheeks pulled a smile wider than you have ever felt, than jason had ever seen. “why?”

“because,” he sighed, then pressed his forehead to yours, holding your damp gaze like it was a prayer. the tension in both your bodies go limp, and he held you closer, worshipping you until he became besotted in your smell, your voice, your gaze, your touch.

“because,” jason repeated, and you held his cheeks, caressing his rough skin.

until even your existence wouldn’t be enough to sober him.

“because i love you.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

917 notes · View notes

tieronecrush · 10 months

Note

I’m finally sending you a request!!

it’s a bit based on Waking Up In Vegas by Katy Perry with Javier x reader.

they have known each other since high school but haven’t seen each other since after graduation, until one night they bump into each other in Las Vegas, while both are there for their friends’ birthday parties.

At some point it’s only them left at the bar and they spend the night drinking, talking about each others’ lives and other things 🫢

they wake up the next morning in the same bed, hangover and married.

I already know I’m going to love this!!

FINALLY have finished this, thank you so much for your patience friend! <3

(re)union with elvis

rating: E

word count:

summary: ask above!

warnings: alcohol use, drunkenness, silly decision making, chatting about marriage/kids/life, discussion of failed previous relationships, vegas marriage, elvis getting annoyed, making out, fingering, unprotected p in v, sloppy drunk sex with ur new husband lol, discussions of annulment/ending marriage, use of spanish (all translated), etc.

Eyes open to sunlight beaming in through the wide opening of the blackout hotel curtains. You shut them again immediately, turning over away from the window, stopping when your hand brushes something next to you. Your eyes spring open again at the feeling, taking in next to you the dark, touseled hair, relaxed brow, hooked nose with a full mustache above plush lips.

Javier Peña.

You completely forgot about the little reunion you had last night at the bar with your high school crush.

And clearly forgot that the two of you ended up coming back to your room—no, wait, this is not your room. Same hotel, though, you can tell from the similar art hanging on the walls and the same blanket at the end of the bed. Must have been nearly missing each other the whole weekend you’ve been here.

A grumble from the man next to you turns your attention back to the bed, pulling you out of your thoughts. Half awake, his arm moves and slings across your waist, tugging you closer. He hums and his eyes slowly peel open, widening as he fully awakens in the low light. His arm stays loosely over your waist, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he faces you.

The two of you take in your bare skin against each other, under the scratchy sheets. Warmth radiates between the two of you, Javier fully pulling his arm away and sitting up, the sheets still covering his lower half as he looks down at you.

“Um…did we…?” Javi’s voice hoarse with sleep and a hangover, right hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as he swallows the words that he doesn’t necessarily want to speak out loud, in fear of awkwardness that already coats the air.

The moment pulls a laugh from you, completely involuntarily, and you fall from your side onto your back. With a slow nod in confirmation, you shrug your shoulders with the sound of sheets rustling.

“Guess so,” you chuckle again and a smile stretches across Javi’s lips, a scoff of a laugh as he shakes his head.

“Is it bad I’m kind of mad I got too drunk to really remember that?” his eyes drag along your form under the thin bedsheet, hand coming up to his face to pull his thumb across his bottom lip from the corner, “Don’t really know if it came up last night, but I had a huge crush on you in high school.”

“The Javier Peña had a crush on me?” you tease, shades of memory from last night at the bar with him coloring your mind, seeing his sheepish grin as you beam back at him, “Think you did mention that last night. And pretty sure I told you that I also had a huge crush on you.”

Both of you giggle softly again, your face shifting into a wince as your head pounds from the sounds and strain of laughing. Your hands come up to your face to wipe under your eyes and rub circles in your temples, groaning quietly and opening your eyes to Javi’s face dropped in shock.

With a quizzical expression aimed at him, you open your mouth to question him when he suddenly takes your left hand and crosses the arm over your chest as he brings it closer to him, eyebrows furrowing as he studies your fingers. When you follow his stare, your stomach drops when you see the golden band with a plush oval diamond. His thumb runs over the gem, pressing the ring into you and you can tell it’s cheap, the gold coating a flimsy metal ring.

Javier’s eyes meet yours again, wide eyes and raised eyebrows matching yours, “Uh—-um, I—Did we get married last night?”

Music thumps around you, sending vibrations from the shaking floor throughout your body as you stand in the middle of the dancefloor in the club. Your friends surround you, all dancing along to the pop song with you. It’s a long weekend at the end of summer, and you and your closest friends from college all gathered in Vegas to celebrate your younger friend’s thirty-fifth birthday. She was always a bit of an extra person, so when you received an invitation via email to join her in Las Vegas for the weekend, you weren’t quite surprised that she was going big for her birthday. And besides the fact that you were having fun celebrating with your girlfriends, it was nice to get away for the weekend and let loose completely.

Your drink swishes in the cup in your hand as you dance, facing your friends and unaware of the man approaching you from behind, leaning in asking you just loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Care to dance, beautiful?”

Immediately, you roll your eyes at the question, typical of a man to be so blind to a woman having fun with her friends and not wanting to be bothered. A rejection sits on your tongue as you turn around over your shoulder, lips pursed in a sour pout.

The man comes into view, a lilac short-sleeve button-up stretched across broad shoulders and tapering into a waist and thigh sculpted into tight blue jeans. Your eyes flutter back up to the man’s face, soft brown eyes striking into your chest and a warm smile showing off his teeth from under his trimmed mustache.

A gasp slips from your lips out of reaction to the sight in front of you, your own smile widening to match his.

“Javi Peña? From Laredo?”

His arms move out at his sides, showing himself off for you to consider the answer to your question with a chuckle.

“I knew it was you,” he smiles sweetly as you pull him in for a hug, squeezing your arms around his shoulders. From under the fabric of his shirt, you can feel his muscles flex under as he wraps his own arms around you in an embrace, one of your hands dropping to his back and feeling the deliciously taut strength. He smells like tobacco mixed with notes from his cologne, vetiver, musk, and lemon tingling your senses as you take another breath in your hug before pulling away. Your hands remain on his shoulders as you look him up and down, meeting his eyes with an incredulous laugh.

“I can’t believe it’s you! God, it’s been…”

“Years? Don’t remind me I’m old, I already feel like it in this whole city,” he laughs.

You hit his shoulder gently before dropping your arms back to your sides, rolling your eyes playfully as you grin.

“Oh, hush. You can’t say you’re old cause that makes me about to be old. You were only a grade above me, Peña.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t spend years running on rooftops and trekking through the jungle in Colombia. That shit ages you. You, on the other hand, don’t look a day over twenty-one. Bet they had to check your ID coming in here, didn’t they?” He sends a wink to you, smile quirking up to one side as it turns into a smirk, the look releasing butterflies in your stomach.

“You probably asked them to check your ID to follow all the rules, Agent Peña. Never pictured you becoming a cop when I knew you in high school, Javi.”

“You think I follow all the rules, hermosa?”

You grin and shrug your shoulders, leaning in closer to hear him better as he continues.

“Hate to tell you, but I am not above breaking some rules to get the results I want. Not too far from the ‘me’ you knew in high school.”

“Hm, guess I have a lot of catching up to do with you,” you nod to the bar across the wide dance floor, “Wanna grab a drink and chat? My treat.”

He rolls his eyes this time, shaking his head as he leans in, lips brushing your ear as he speaks to you, “Couldn’t live with myself if I let a woman as beautiful as you buy me a drink. You go find us somewhere to chat, I’ll grab us a drink.”

Goosebumps trail down your spine, nodding at the instructions and giving him your usual drink order. The two of you linger near each other in the middle of the sea of bodies before you step away first, brushing past him in search of somewhere for you to talk.

A couple of hours have passed since you and Javi have retreated to the corner of a booth in the back of the club, multiple empties on the table in front of you and a few tequila shots taken courtesy of both of your friend group’s happy for your little high school reunion.

Over the course of your catch-up, you’ve learned about his time in the DEA, now retired back to his father’s ranch in your hometown of Laredo. You could tell from the quip of his lip that he was omitting details at certain parts of the stories he told, likely covering up unsavory bits that would paint him in a bad light. It would have likely done little to quell the flames of lust that were licking inside of your torso, the slow and low lilt of his voice going straight to your core whenever he made a flirtatious comment or told a harrowing story about chasing down bad guys all around Colombia. You pictured him hot, sweaty, relieved with his chest heaving, immediately placing the visual in a different location — over you, under you, behind you. You weren’t picky in your choices.

The long-abandoned high school crush you had on Javi came rearing back with a vengeance, heart rate pounding in your chest to the point you were convinced he could hear it over the music. It was an intimate position to be in, hip to hip with his arm around the back of the booth, leaning into each other's ears to speak, breath cascading over each other’s necks and shoulders.

You’d told him about your time post-high school, going to university not far from him in Texas, and receiving your degree. You’ve held a handful of jobs over the last fifteen years or so, ending up with a new position not too long ago. It brought you back to Laredo, purposefully, in order to care for your aging parents. Javier understood your troubles, despite the fact that Chucho was still healthy and working the ranch with him, he still felt the need to slow his father down by shouldering the majority of responsibilities to keep the business running.

Life was turning ordinary for the two of you, and surprisingly, the topic of marriage or partners or family of your own was not brought up until now.

“So, have you met anyone? Married, kids, the whole nine yards?” Javi questions, his eyes leaving your face to stare at the ice clinking around with the whiskey in his glass. It made you smile, his reservations in waiting for your answer. You’d wondered the same thing yourself — who had been lucky enough to lock down Javi Peña?

“Nope. Well, not right now. I actually was engaged in my early thirties to a guy I had met while living in Austin, but as it got more and more real that I would actually have to marry him, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t supposed to happen. Turns out he was cheating on me for months with his coworker who he always went with on ‘business trips’. So, no marriage, and no kids for me.”

Javi’s eyes come back to you, sympathy washed over his features as his arm strewn across the back of the bench curls his hand to play with the hair at the back of your neck.

“Shit, I’m sorry, cariño. Sounds like a stupid motherfucker to mess things up with you.”

You wave off the comment, shrugging nonchalantly, “Nah, I mean, clearly I’m not marriage material cause haven’t been snatched off the market still in years. And they actually ended up getting married, so it worked out for them in the end.”

“No, that’s total bullshit. You’re incredible — you were incredible already in high school, and now? Just another level.”

You snort, covering your mouth with your hand as you shake your head.

“Tell that to all the age-appropriate eligible bachelors. If there even are any at this point,” you say with a laugh to break the tension building, swallowing down your nerves as Javi locks his eyes on you, raking them down and back up quickly. His tongue prods out to swipe his lips, shrugging his shoulders as he looks back into your eyes.

“I’m an eligible bachelor. Age-appropriate, if that’s a dealbreaker.”

“Oh, c’mon, no one’s got their ring on you? Really?” you can hear how surprised you sound, unable to hide the disbelief in your tone.

Javier laughs and keeps his eyes on you as he speaks with a smirk playing at his lips, “Nope…Well, not sure if you remember her, but I did almost get married to Lorraine. Told me she was pregnant, and I was gonna do the right thing. The night before the wedding she told me she got her period…” he takes a swig of his whiskey, eyes falling from yours to the table in front of you, “Left her standing at the altar alone the next morning. I was back at my pop’s house, packing up to take my job with the DEA. Left the US not long after.”

“So, someone’s nearly reigned me in, but didn’t work out.”

“Did you want to get married and have a baby? Or do you still want to, I guess?” you pause and internally scold yourself for the overly personal question spurred on by your inebriation, “I’m sorry, Javi, that is not my place to ask when I’m drunk off my ass.”

“S’alright, cariño. I asked you first, technically. Only fair I answer, too,” he smiles to himself before setting his glass down, turning in his seat to face you more, “I did want to back then, just didn’t feel right with Lorraine. Kinda like what you said, it felt off the closer it got to actually doing it and when I saw an out, I took it…But now? Now, I am—God, it’s a little embarrassing, but yeah I do want all that. The wife, kids. T-ball practices or dance recitals and date nights. I dunno, though, think it might be too late for an old bastard like me.”

A hand of yours rests on his midthigh, shaking your head with an encouraging smile, “Definitely not too late for you, Javi. You’re a handsome, great man. Bet I’ll be hearing around town that you’re shacked up in the next year,” a soft laugh falls from your lips and Javi grins while his eyes drink you in, lingering at your lips. The heat of his stare makes you squirm, adjusting in your seat and sipping your drink.

Just when the tension was mounting from the moment, your best friend from college walks over, one of Javi’s friends following and both approaching your small corner of the club. They tell you that both of your groups are heading back to the hotel, the same hotel, and you deflate as you start to gather your bag next to you. Javi’s hand reaches out and squeezes your thigh gently to grab your attention, one look shared between the two of you that was an invitation to stay and keep talking. With a smile, you silently agree and tell your friends that you’ll make it back together.

Your best friend dawdles, and as you’re about to tell her that you’ll be alright, Javi reassures her with his kind smile, “I’ll get her back safely, you have my word. Fought off drug dealers and soldiers and a few sicarios in my day. She will be back at the hotel and chipper for the girls’ birthday brunch tomorrow. Cross my heart.”

Both you and your friend laugh, standing to give her a hug goodnight and telling her that you’ll be just fine, to which she replies, “Probably more than just fine. Tell Javi he can join us for brunch when you wake up with him tomorrow.”

You gasp and roll your eyes as she walks away with a laugh, heading out of the bar with your friends before you sit back with Javi, jumping into a whole different conversation.

The early hours of the morning have crept in, cool desert air from around the city wisping around your skin as you stroll down the strip with Javi. The two of you are leaning against each other in a drunken stupor, giggling wildly as you talk to each other and get stares from other people out at this hour — which is a lot, it’s Vegas.

Javi’s arm is around your waist, hand curled at your hip and his fingers rub gentle circles that send your nerves firing throughout your entire body. Your own arm is resting against his back, feeling those same muscles as earlier. He’s strong, steady, even in his inebriated state, and safe. In any other situation, you’d be anxious to walk back to the hotel along the street, too many characters milling about for the alcohol to keep you calm. But with Javi next to you, there’s a freedom in it, the way he makes you feel protected despite the short amount of time you’ve been reunited. Even in school, he was a troublemaker but only in the way that he stood up for people, got into fights on behalf of the underdogs, always concerned with fairness and righteousness. It was honorable, that he always was a protector, wanting to do right by people that were affected by those doing wrong.

Ramblings about life filled the space between you two, bright lights blinding you against the midnight skies. Javier is in the middle of saying something when you stop in your tracks, the sight across the street captivating your attention as your own light blinks with an idea in your head.

It’s a small wedding chapel, a carport out in the front with a classic car parked in the middle, and kitschy decorations littering the outside with a hot pink and cream color scheme painting the facade.

Javier walks a step or two before his arm around your waist tethers him back, his eyes looking at you before turning toward the opposite side of the street. He laughs to himself, tucking into your side again as smiles.

“How many people got married tonight, d’you think?” He leans his head to the side to rest on yours, the small affection making your idea seem even better in your wasted mind.

“I dunno. But I could guarantee two if you wanna,” your head turns to him on your left, a Cheshire grin stretched across your face as a giggle slips from your chest. Javi looks at you, confused for a moment before it all clicks, and his expression turns to one of surprise.

“You’d wanna do that? With me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? We spent the whole night talking about how we both wanted to get married and have kids and all that, why not do it with each other? I mean, I had a massive crush on you in high school. Would be my dreams back then coming true,” you say with a laugh, biting your lip as you await his response.

It’s a beat of silence as he contemplates the offer, surveying between you and the chapel across from you.

“Fuck it. Let’s get married, cariño.”

“Yes! Let’s go before we chicken out,” an infectious smile fills your face, eyes crinkling as you rush across the street with him, hand-in-hand. Upon entering the chapel lobby, you’re greeted by a chipper employee behind a large reception desk. The two of you give over your IDs, anxiously waiting with each other’s hands linked together, sharing quiet, excited laughs. Once everything is settled, the employee directs you back to a room to get ready in, offering a too-small suit jacket to Javi that sits two inches above his wrists, a sight that sends you into a fit of laughter.

He brushes off your teasing and takes the bouquet that another employee arranges quickly for you, holding it as you lean over and primp yourself in the mirror by cleaning up your makeup and fixing your hair.

Javier stands behind you, watching you with tender eyes and a faint smile on his face. Making eye contact with him in the reflection as you finish, heat spreads at the back of your neck and across your cheeks at the way he’s looking at you.

“Ready, hermosa?”

Turning around and standing to your full height in front of him, bouquet held out to you. You take it, wrapping your hand around his and nodding.

“Ready, Peña.”

“Think I should be saying that to you,” he winks and drops his hand from yours, turning and grabbing something off of a table across the room. Crossing back to you he holds up a costume veil, eyebrows raised in questioning, “Wanna complete the look?”

“Of course. Don’t think I would look like a bride without it since I’m not wearing any white,” you grin and stand still in front of him, letting him put the headband securely behind your ears. Delicate fingers lift the veil to cover your face, a warm, closed-lip smile lighting up his eyes.

“Haces una novia hermosa. You make a beautiful bride.”

The sincerity laced in his voice despite the drunken haze chokes the words in your throat, only answering by taking his hand with your free one and leading him over to the chapel’s double doors. He gives you one last look before slipping in first when you’re called up, whispering to you, “See you in there. Don’t get cold feet now.”

After a couple of minutes, the doors open for you again, and immediately you’re faced with Javi standing next to a costumed Elvis impersonator. The traditional wedding march playing through tinny speakers, everything overwhelming you to the point that when you make eye contact with Javi, the pair of you break out into uncontrollable giggles. His shoulders shake as tears prick your eyes from the ridiculousness, your tipsy minds thinking everything is extra funny.

Calmed down at the altar, you stand across from him and half listen to the officiant attempt to maintain his accent throughout the ceremony. Each of you exchanges drunken repetitive vows, given cheap rings that were paid for at the front desk. Javi slips yours on and squeezes your hand, giving you his to do the same.

At that moment, rings and vows given to each other, knock-off Elvis pronounces you husband and wife by the power vested in him by the state of Nevada.

“You may now kiss your wife, dude.”

Javier chuckles as he reaches up to lift your veil away from your face, leaning in as he drops it at the back of your head. One hand cups your jaw, the other dropping to your hip to pull you in closer. He catches your lips in a kiss that’s all teeth from your smiles, mouths relaxing as he deepens the embrace when your arms wrap around his neck and the flowers rest at his back.

He huffs into your mouth, tongue tracing your lip and slipping against yours when you open your mouth for him. A soft sigh melts your body into his touch, the two of you completely wrapped up in each other.

“Alright, alright, lovebirds. We got another wedding to get to so you guys are gonna have to quit sucking face in here and take your party of two outside. Congrats,” the officiant has dropped his character, Javier pulling away from you and glancing at him.

“Thanks, Presley. See ya,” he calls out over his shoulder as he takes your hand, receding down the aisle, throwing off his jacket, plus your veil and bouquet on the desk as you make your way out of the chapel building completely.

It’s a rush from the elevator when it reaches Javi’s floor, limbs fumbling over each other as you frantically stumble down the hallway, mouths attach in a potent kiss. Javier’s touch is only adding to your intoxication, clouding your mind with his wandering hands and his tongue against yours.

He grips your waist as he reaches his room, pressing you against the solid wood door as he exhales into your mouth. Pulling away mere millimeters to speak, his low and gravelly voice rasps out to you.

“Front right pocket. Room key’s in my wallet,” he kisses you again, hands moving from your waist to your ass as his lips trail from your mouth and along your jaw. Your own fingers slip into the front pocket he directed you to, taking out his wallet and attempting to fish out the plastic card as his teeth graze at the sensitive skin on your neck.

“Fuck, Javi…Here.” You pass the key card to him and he unlocks the door, wrapping his arm around your back and walking you inside the room as he catches your lips in a rich kiss, a whimper slipping from your mouth and into his. The plush mattress hits the back of your legs and he lets you go to fall backward onto the bed, staring down at you with his chest rising and falling quickly and swollen lips parted.

“Cristo, eres hermosa, cariño. Te deseo tanto. Puedo tenerte, mi esposa?” Javier lifts one knee to rest on the mattress, leaning over you and pressing open-mouth kisses at the open chest of your night-out dress.

“Javi, that all sounds very sexy, but I think I need a translation,” you sigh as he tugs the neckline of your dress down, exposing your bare breast to the chilled, conditioned air. Javier chuckles as you gasp from his thumb brushing over your pebbled nipple, darkened eyes combing up to meet yours with a devilish smirk.

“I said ‘Christ, you’re gorgeous, darling…’”

His fingers slip a strap of your dress off of your shoulders.

“And ‘I want you so bad…’”

The other strap.

“And I asked ‘Can I have you, my wife?’”

With one tug to the body of your dress, your full chest is bared to Javi, who in that moment you realize is technically your husband.

Your sexy, heroic, competent, charming husband.

Damn, your drunk self kind of hit the jackpot.

“Can I, baby?” he asks again, one hand reaching down to palm his growing bulge in his jeans. The sight makes you salivate, this man above you asking to have you, telling you how badly he wants you, calling you his wife.

A rush of arousal floods between your thighs and you nod, lifting yourself to sit up on your elbows under him.

“How do you say ‘my husband’ in Spanish?”

Javi’s smirk deepens, the dimple in his right cheek cavernous with the satisfaction painted on his face.

“Mi esposo.”

“You can have me any way you want, mi esposo.”

The groan that comes from Javier is guttural, as if something is unleashed in him and rumbles it’s way out. He moves with a fervor after those words, stripping you of your dress and lacey panties, carelessly tossing them aside. You sit up fully, working his button-up undone as he fumbles with his belt and jeans. As you push the material off of his shoulders, he kicks off his pants, left naked from his lack of underwear.

You chuckle softly at the choice and bite your lip, looking up at him playfully.

“Guess you’re always prepared for a quickie.”

He smirks with a slow nod, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Didn’t know where the night would take me. And now I am incredibly glad for my choice.”

A gasp leaves your lips as he kisses you passionately, pushing you back to the mattress as he climbs over you. Your legs spread for him, leaving him room to nestle between your thighs. Everything is blurred in your inebriated minds, burning touches on sensitive skin, teeth grazing with purple bruises left in their wake.

His fingers slide through your arousal, collecting your wetness with two of his fingers, slipping in and out of you at an expert pace. The heel of his hand rubs against your clit, the combined stimulations and your laxed body working you up quickly to a peak. Moans and whimpers of his name fill the space between you, coming down as he guides you through your orgasm.

With the fingers once inside of you, he strokes himself, glistening in the low lighting coming from the neon outside on The Strip. Your fingers dance across his strong chest, feeling the muscles of his biceps flex under your touch.

“You okay, amor?”

His voice is hushed, tender and sweet.

“I’m okay. More than okay. I want you, please, Javi. Please, mi esposo.”

“Fuck, say it again, cariño.”

The head of his cock pushes into your tight walls, feeling the delicious stretch of him inside as he gives you only a few inches of himself.

“Mi esposo.”

A moan slips from his mouth, kneeling between your legs and filling you completely with one strong thrust.

“Again.”

“Mi esposo.”

A hypnotizing rhythm is found in his hips, fucking you deeper with each hard snap of his lower half. His thighs hit against the backs of yours with slaps, alternating with your own moans and whimpers, deep grunts from Javi.

“Fuck…” he breathes with a long exhale, head rolling back to reveal veins in his neck. Fingers grip at your thighs, one drifting up to toy with your nipple before it drops between the two of you to circle your clit.

“Javier—Fuck, gonna come…” you whine, eyes screwing shut as the coil inside of you tightens with a burn.

“Eyes on me, cariño. Wanna see your face when you come for me.”

At the next hit of himself against that particular spot inside of you, your eyes snap open as the coil snaps, walls clenching around him with repeated moans.

“Oh fuck, Javi, yes…”

“Good girl, good fucking girl…”

With a few more thrusts, he spills inside of you, twitching as he lets go of a moan of your name. Once the both of you have come down from the highest peaks of the night, Javier slowly pulls out of you and falls back to the bed.

“Do you think we’re gonna remember any of this when we wake up?” you ask, laughing softly as you slip under the sheets with Javier, fatigue catching up with you from the long night.

“God, I hope so. Don’t want to ever forget anything that’s happened since we got into this room,” Javi winks as he extends an arm for you to cuddle into, faint laughter from both of you.

“I can’t believe we got married by an Elvis impersonator.”

“And he was so bad at it.”

The two of you are now in a fit of sleepy giggles, laying your head on his chest and his hand behind you playing with your hair.

“Go to sleep, cariño. Got breakfast to get to in a few hours.”

You groan and close your eyes, adjusting your position next to him.

“You’re invited too, y’know.”

“I’ll gladly come with. Now sleep, esposa.”

“Night, Mr. Peña.”

“Night, Mrs. Peña.”

Between the two of you, you were able to piece together most of the previous night. The memory of the horrible Elvis impersonator and the wild chapel interior made you laugh hysterically again, Javi wiping the tears from your eyes when you couldn’t stop.

Once everything had been recounted that you could remember, save the details of the last activities of the night — those were certainly memorable, just not spoken out loud — Javi studied his ring before taking your left hand with his, eyes trained on the two pieces of jewelry laying together.

“So, what do we do?”

You’re silent for a few beats of your heart, loud in your ears as you sit up, pulling the sheet to cover your chest and facing the man next to you.

“No idea.”

The next words were laced over each other, your voices interrupting the other:

“Is it weird to say that I don’t regret it?”

“I don’t know if I really want to retract it completely.”

You laugh out of the tension built, shrugging your shoulders and nodding your head for Javi to speak first.

“I don’t know if I really want to say that it was a horrible idea, that we should completely backtrack it…” He cards his fingers through his hair nervously.

“I mean, yeah, probably shouldn’t have this be legally binding marriage for the rest of our lives, but maybe we could, I don’t know, try some version of us?”

Relief washes over you at his thoughts, fiddling with the ring on your finger.

“I agree. I think just like, being married fully after this would be silly, but it also doesn’t mean that if we do something about that, we would never have to see each other again.”

“Exactly,” he nods confidently, eyes locking on yours before they drop to your lips. You make the move to lean in, capturing him in a slow, morning kiss much different than yours from late last night.

When you pull away, Javi’s smirk is plastered on his face, hand holding yours and running his thumb over the ring.

“So…an annulment? And then a date when we’re back in Laredo?”

“I’d really like that, Mr. Peña,” you say with a grin, pecking his lips.

“Alright, it’s a plan then,” he nudges his nose against yours before giving you one last kiss, “Now I promised I would get you to the birthday brunch, so let’s get this show on the road, Mrs. Peña.”

tagging some mooties: @beskarandblasters @swiftispunk @joelsversion @lunapascal @addictedtotlou @deathwife @johnwatsn @darkroastjoel @pedrospartner @atinylittlepain @soaringcloud @wannab-urs @javiscigarette @yazsos @northernbluess @pr0ximamidnight @theelishad @thetriumphantpanda @dinsdjrn @midnightswithdearkatytspb @ladamedusoif @cannolighost @undrthelights @jksprincess10 @bearsbeetsbeskar @perotovar @leslie-lyman @cupofjoel @egcdeath @mrsquill

#asks #writing #javier #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña smut #javier peña fic #narcos fic #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x you

491 notes · View notes

yourmaximoff · 11 months

Text

Naughty Bunny

Summary: Your naughty bunny doesn't know how to behave, so you need to teach her a lesson.

Paring: Bunny!Brat!Wanda x Reader

Warnings: (+18) top!reader, botton!wanda, petplay, collar, dirt talk, fingering, oral, anal plug, double penetration, light degradation, somnophilia, dacryphilia, hand groaning restraint (not sure if that has a name lol)

Words: 4k

A/N: Wanda being a cute and needy bunny, but also a spoiled and inconsequential brat.

(English is not my first language, sorry for any translation errors)

𓆩♡𓆪

The golden rays of sun, newly born over the horizon, bathed the living room of a house in Southern California. The pleasant breeze of a fresh morning pushed the blue curtains, letting the sunlight warm the body of a girl lying face down on the couch.

Feet, adorned with delicate satin socks that reached up to her thighs, swung up and down. A nightgown, made of the same fabric as the socks, stretched over the lower half of her buttocks, offering a glimpse of delicate transparent pink panties.

Her fingers held and tapped the tip of a pencil against the paper in front of her. On the sheet, there was a sketch in the shape of a girl dressed as a bunny. Full breasts, large rabbit ears atop her long black hair, and a tight outfit clinging to her curvaceous body.

She sighed as she looked at her own drawing. Placing the tip of the pencil between her lips, the gears of her newly awakened mind began to turn, searching for what was wrong with this drawing. Her intuition told her she had forgotten something, but she didn't know what.

She tried her best to swim in the memories of last night, when she watched that anime about this bunny girl for the twentieth time. Everything she remembered was drawn on the paper. Light and deep strokes created the perfect figure of the girl, her attire, ears, her long straight hair, but still, something was missing.

Wanda turned on the couch and lazily tried to reach for the remote control, resting on the table on the opposite side of where she was. Slithering her body across the couch, her nightgown rubbed against the cushion as her body stretched.

Unaware of the cushion right under her legs, she finally reached the remote and sat on the cushion. Before she turned on the TV to finally figure out what was wrong with her drawing, she widened her eyes and blushed.

The edge of the cushion pressed directly against her folds and brushed against her clitoris. A warm sigh escaped her lips, and she tightly held the remote, lowering her body further onto the cushion, sinking and pressing against her folds even more.

Her eyes narrowed and her legs trembled as she began to slowly rub against the cushion. Releasing the remote, her hands tightly gripped the soft fibers beneath her. Her hips moved and ground against the plush friction of the cushion as she let out silent moans.

Her juices dripped onto the cushion, leaving stains, her hands forcefully kneading every soft fiber, begging for it to be more substantial and less soft. She couldn't bring herself enough pleasure to release. Whenever the coils in her stomach gave the slightest indication that something was building up, it all vanished as quickly as it had been created.

Frustrated and unsatisfied with the arousal that built but couldn't sustain, her eyes locked directly onto the semi-open door of your office. Her mind instantly connected to you, the only person who could turn this mess she made between her legs into real pleasure.

This morning, you left her sleeping and went to your office, mentioning an important meeting that would likely take a while. Wanda, not accustomed to being away from you, lasted less than twenty minutes alone on the bed before she went in search of something to do.

She chose drawing, as it was one of her favorite hobbies and it took some time to complete due to her perfectionism. But here she is, rubbing against a cushion, irritated that you would prefer to be in a meeting rather than with her.

𓆩♡𓆪

Twirling your fingers around the phone cord, you looked tiredly at the scenery outside the office. Your ears filled with work-related concerns and problems, but your mind began to drift away, like the large clouds in the blue sky, flying towards nothingness.

The coffee worked on your body, caffeine pumping through your veins, preventing you from dozing off in the middle of the meeting. Last night, your girlfriend was too restless to sleep, her restless nature causing her to toss and turn in bed with insomnia.

You obviously couldn't sleep due to her restlessness, so you took her to the living room to watch one of her favorite cartoons, or rather anime. Wanda always corrected you when you made that mistake of calling it a cartoon, even though you did it on purpose to annoy her.

Sometime later, deep into the night, Wanda finally fell asleep on your lap, and you managed to put her to bed. Exhausted, you lay down beside her, instantly drifting off to sleep as your body was embraced by the soft mattress of the double bed.

Just five hours later, and you're in a boring meeting on a Friday morning. You didn't necessarily have to attend, but to convey a sense of responsibility to one of the most important people in the company, and the father of your girlfriend, you really couldn't miss it.

Delicate fingers tapped against the small metal ball of the pink collar around her neck, with ‘bunny’ written on it, catching your attention. Swiveling your chair forward, you quickly smile as you see an irritated Wanda in front of you. Her foot was forcefully tapping against the floor, while her arms were crossed over her chest. Narrowed eyes and furrowed brows gave away her spoiled morning nature.

Wanda clearly carried Erik's genes, manifested in every aspect of her personality. All the authoritative and dominant air that emanated from your boss overflowed in that cute and delicate appearance.

You clapped your hands on your thighs, silently requesting your bunny to sit on your lap. And surprisingly, sometimes she was obedient, so she just approached and settled her perfect bottom on your thighs.

"Stay quiet, we're in a meeting." You whisper against her beautiful and fragrant blonde hair.

She lets out a playful sigh, leaning her shoulder against your ear, feeling the tingle of your voice directly in her ears. But you didn't get a response, hoping she wouldn't ignore your request.

Returning your focus to the voices in the meeting room, and the people from the company, you began jotting down some information on a notepad on the table. One hand held the phone against your ear, while the other took important notes.

Wanda puffed her cheeks cutely as she looked around, her legs shaking and lightly tapping against yours. She unconsciously started tapping her own collar, playing with the pendant and creating an annoying noise. She needed something to do, being close to you was enough to calm her anxious heart, but not her hyperactive mind.

Her eyes landed on the window, where white clouds slowly drifted across the blue sea that was the sky. Sliding her gaze to your fingers, noting down various, possibly important, things, Wanda had an idea.

Leaning over the table, accidentally causing you to scribble on the paper, she reached for the pen holder. Grabbing a bright red pen, she took the first piece of paper in front of her and began to draw.

You widen your eyes as your gaze leaves the scribble in the middle of your notepad and moves to the mischievous girl on your lap. Wanda was sketching a new drawing, right on an important paper that you had to deliver to your boss next week.

"Give it to me." You whisper, covering the phone's microphone with your hands, trying to take the pen from her hands.

Turning her back to you, and using the edge of the table to continue her mess, she let out a playful laugh, leaning away from your hands.

"Wanda, stop." You mutter, placing the phone on the table and activating the speakerphone, while trying to hold onto the wrist of the girl facing away from you. "You're going to regret this."

In an impulsive move, Wanda wriggled free from your hands and got on all fours on the table. Stepping on and crumpling all the important papers with her knees, she sat back on her own heels. Before you could reach her, she pushed one of her feet against your chest, making the wheeled chair slide along with you, moving away.

Her shoulders shrugged up towards her neck, her hand rested on her mouth, holding back laughter, while her legs crossed in defiance against you. She knew how to provoke you, she knew exactly how to get on your nerves. Those green eyes shimmered with amusement, her eyebrows challenging you as she always did.

You stared at her with a serious expression, your eyebrows furrowing in a threat, silently questioning if she was really going to act like a brat now. She obviously responded with the same eyebrow movement and a mischievous smile.

Her playful and provocative demeanor quickly cracked in half, her eyes widened when her father's authoritative voice entered her ears. Obviously, her father would be in the meeting, not just random employees. She made this whole scene, thinking at most it would be your secretary or some intern on the other end of the line, not her own father.

You put your feet on the ground and finally slid the chair back towards the table. Wanda, still a little frightened, swallowed hard. Regret washed over her like an avalanche. Now it was your turn to laugh at how remorseful Wanda looked, with her tail, like a bunny, between her legs.

"I told you that you would regret it." You whisper, standing up from the chair and curling your finger around her collar, pulling her closer with a victorious smile. This little battle was won by you this time.

"Where's the brave and stubborn bunny now?" You whisper, making sure to release a deep and warm breath with each word, ensuring that Wanda feels the warmth of your breath.

Wanda simply swallowed hard, her eyes shimmering with mercy, but her arms crossed, puffing out her chest. That was a clear response to the implicit question between the two of you. The question she knew the answer to but refused to say it to avoid hurting her ego. Sometimes Wanda was a difficult little girl, a spoiled and proud bunny who didn't obey easily. She would rather be punished by you a thousand times than apologize.

You smiled, your lips slowly approaching hers, almost close enough to taste the cherry lip gloss she always wore. The gloss that made her plump lips rosy, the same gloss that was always smudged on your lips. Her eyes rested on your mouth, her head slowly leaned in, but you just let go of her collar and turned your head with a contemptuous laugh.

Wanda's nose buried into your cheek, she took a deep breath, inhaling your Dior perfume into her lungs. Or rather, her favorite perfume, Miss Dior Rose. A disappointed sigh escaped Wanda's lips when she realized that, by you always wearing her favorite perfume on 'special' occasions, you intended to have sex with her after the meeting. But with her bratty and spoiled nature always controlling her, she ruined everything.

"Turn around," you whisper, commanding her.

She promptly obeyed, scraping her knees against the wooden table and getting on all fours on your papers. Only for now would she be obedient. She realized how much she loses when she's a difficult bunny.

You didn't even care anymore if she crumpled or tore all the papers, you just wanted her to learn a lesson for being a spoiled brat. You wanted to take her regardless of where or what was happening.

Curling your fingers over her panties, you slowly descended onto her ass until it was buried between her slightly parted thighs. Her pussy was swollen, her folds extremely soaked, and her juices dripped onto the papers on the table.

Your other hand opened the last drawer of your desk. The same drawer that, when opened, emitted a sweet aroma of lubricant. You noticed how her pussy clenched, she recognized the smell of the drawer, she knew everything that was inside it.

You were quite hardworking and always in the office, dedicated to your work. In the first few weeks, when Wanda wasn't used to it, she always found a way to invade your office, regardless of what you were doing. She would always rub against you and end up fucking you on the table. Exactly one month later, you created this drawer with fun toys for when Wanda, almost always, invaded your office.

You could smell her sweet excitement, you could see how every muscle in that little pink pussy contracted in anticipation and hunger for you. Like a good little bunny, who constantly crossed the line, she stayed still, only feeling your devouring gaze on her exposed entrance.

At least in these moments, she obeyed you, where she was entirely a submissive soul. If she was good enough, you would give her the long-awaited release, but if she wasn't, she would certainly go to sleep with a sore pussy from not being touched.

The voices of those attending the meeting over the phone sounded muffled and distant. Everyone unaware of the hot and exciting situation between you and Wanda. Between you and the boss's perfect little girl.

You placed two fingers on her folds, collecting her slippery juices and sliding them up to her anus. You pushed Wanda's two big ass cheeks and buried your mouth in her pussy. You licked casually, spreading her juices and your saliva all over her intimate area, up to her anus. You made sure to leave everything wet and slippery, making Wanda relaxed and ready for the bunny plug that you were now holding.

Wanda bit her lower lip, inadvertently letting out a deep moan from her mouth. You smiled against her pussy, feeling the strength of not moaning from her, making her legs tremble.

"S/n, are you okay?" You remove your face from her center when you hear your boss's voice echoing in the room. "I hope you're not sleeping in the meeting."

"Oh, don't worry, sir, I'm wide awake." You smile, looking at how Wanda's face turned red and she tightly squeezed her eyes and lips. "I'm just focused on taking notes." You reply, giving a shallow bite to Wanda's ass.

"Alright, make sure everything is properly noted and bring it to me on Monday..." He commands and resumes discussing with the other employees.

Wanda lets out a silent relieved sigh, and you take advantage of her temporary relaxation to start inserting the plug into her ass. Her hands tightly grip the edges of the table, while her breath catches in her lungs. Slowly twisting the plug to bury it deeper, you place your fingers on her clitoris, relieving the inevitable pain.

Wanda leans her torso forward and rests her cheek against the wooden table, lifting her ass towards you. In a swift motion, the plug completely buries itself in the dark valley of her ass. You're quick, before Wanda's shrill moan fills the room, you cover her mouth with your hand.

Her warm and wet breath pounding against the palm of your open hand, preventing any sound from escaping her. Her trembling thighs contract as the plug naturally adjusts in her ass. The sensation of the cold metal plug against the warm walls of her ass elicits a muffled whimper of suppressed pleasure from her.

"Come here, my bunny," you whisper, giving a light slap to her ass, adjusting her panties, and sitting back in your chair. "Be obedient and sit here on my lap quietly until the meeting is over."

Wanda shakes her head, the stars that were spinning in her mind slowly fading away. Still with trembling legs, Wanda tightly grips the table's edge to support herself enough to turn around.

You smile, seeing Wanda's red face, tears pooling along her waterline, and her cheeks as red as her lips. Her intense green eyes, which once exuded stubbornness, now seemed covered with a mixed layer of excitement and intoxication. She slowly creeps over the table, her hands raised in the air as a pout forms on her beautiful lips. Her face is so expressive that she looks like a puppy in the rain begging to be adopted, or rather, a bunny begging for affection.

You hold her arms and pull her onto your lap. A low moan escapes her lips when her ass hits your lap, stirring the metallic plug inside her. Properly adjusting Wanda on your lap, you lightly push your thigh, making her bounce and release another pained moan.

Now with your eyes focused back on the mess, you start organizing the papers on the table. Some crumpled, torn, and wet ones being thrown in the trash. Poor projects that never saw the light of day thanks to your naughty little bunny.

A few minutes later, Wanda is indeed sitting quietly on your lap. While you take more notes and consider potential new projects, Wanda rests her head on your shoulder, immersed in a light nap.

Her beautiful blonde hair cascades down her back, while her rebellious bangs hide half of her face. Her perfectly pink cheeks and lips, along with her chest, rise and fall with deep breaths. She is such a temptation, a small creature with such a strong personality lying on you. A mischievous bunny who is painfully beautiful and extremely vulnerable in your lap. Perhaps now, you should play the role of the fox ready to devour your poor bunny.

With slow movements, your fingers glide along Wanda's soft thigh, gradually moving towards her entrance. Your fingers find the warmth and moisture between her legs. You lazily slide four fingers along her slit, teasing that hot and wet bundle of nerves. A deep sigh escapes her lips and echoes directly in your ears, her sleep slowly taken over by a hungry fox.

"P-please," she murmurs softly and weakly, sleep still leaving her mind drunk and distant.

"You deserve this for being a little shit," you whisper, pinching the inner flesh of her thigh before gently pressing your thumb against her clitoris.

You slide two fingers inside her, abruptly stretching the tight and soaked walls of her pussy. With a slight push on your thigh, you make her lightly bounce on your lap and consequently sink the plug even deeper inside her.

Wanda's deep moan is muffled by your hand covering her mouth. Tears start rolling down her cheeks, and her completely smudged gloss stains the palm of your hand.

"Do you want your father to hear you?" you ask in her ear with a whisper.

Wanda moans against your hand while shaking her head frantically. She turns to look at you, her eyebrows furrowed and a thick layer of tears over her beautiful eyes.

"Imagine if he," you begin to twist your fingers inside her, your thumb still relentlessly tormenting her clitoris, "finds out that his perfect daughter is a desperate whore who can't even wait for a meeting to be over to be fucked."

Wanda grabs your wrist with her trembling hand, her eyes pleading to stop, but her hand tightens around your wrist, begging for more. She's afraid of moaning loudly and getting caught, but at the same time, she desperately needs more. She desperately needs the release she has been seeking and couldn't find with the pillow.

The gears in her mind are spinning frantically, her breath is short and heavy. Small beads of sweat form on her temples due to the intense heat in her face and body. With every deep gasp Wanda releases, she feels it reverberate against your hand and return to her.

She feels all her holes being filled. Her ass with the plug, her pussy with your fingers, and her mouth with your hand. The painful sensation in her ass disappeared long ago, and every ounce of pain has transformed into the deepest and most intense pleasure.

"My bunny knows how to be good, doesn't she? Why does she always have to be a spoiled brat?" You whisper in her ear, rubbing your nose against her hair. "Whenever my bunny is good, he gets what he wants."

Her head shakes awake, a murmur escapes her throat with a silent 'please'. She's making it clear that she's very close to her orgasm, but she won't climax unless you allow it.

"Will you be a good bunny?" You ask, removing your hand from her mouth.

"Y-yes," she responds in a low moan, pressing her lips together, trying her best to keep any noise from escaping her mouth.

"Come for me, my little bunny." You command, curling your fingers and putting your phone on silent mode. "Empty yourself and fill my fingers with your cum."

As if something unlocked inside her stomach, the moment your voice hangs in the air, Wanda lets out a guttural moan that tears from her throat. Her whole body shudders. Her ass buries itself against your lap as you continue to spank her, gradually slowing down the pace, savoring the way her walls throb and pulsate more and more.

A sense of relief spreads through her body, waves of spasms slowly leaving her. You can feel something wetting your pants as her cum slides and drips from her sore pussy to your dress pants. She's exhausted and destroyed from holding back her moans, but now it seems like it was all worth it. Her head rests on your shoulder, her neck stretched as she seems to float in the pleasure and relief coursing through her body.

"You can sleep, my little bunny." You say to her, smiling at the cute and tired form of Wanda on your lap, no longer resembling the naughty girl from earlier. Gradually, Wanda's eyes close, and a happy smile appears on her lips, smeared with a thin layer of shiny gloss.

Perhaps you didn't use the best method to teach her a lesson, but the fact that she had a plug in her ass while trying her best not to moan because her father was on the other end of the line is certainly something she will never forget. From now on, she will think twice before challenging you again.

𓆩♡𓆪

The orange afternoon sun rays gently bathed the face of a reclining Wanda on the couch. Her body stretched lazily as her eyes slowly opened. The sunlight, piercing the intense green of her irises, made them even clearer and brighter, like the greenish Pacific Ocean.

Rubbing her face against her palm, she began to wake up. Her eyes finally became aware of reality, and sleep gradually faded from her body. She let out a deep, disappointed sigh as her gaze fixed on the partially open door of your office.

Had she fallen asleep and dreamt it all?

Questioning herself, her eyes turned to the unfinished drawing resting in front of her. Feeling frustration gnawing at her stomach, she huffed with irritation. There was still something missing in that drawing; she still felt like a failure for falling asleep on it and not being able to figure out what was lacking.

She slithered off the couch and sat down to gather her thoughts. Her eyes widened as she felt the cold touch of the still lodged metal in her ass. Stretching her neck backward, she caught a glimpse of the pompom on the plug adorning her rear.

The frustration dissolved, replaced by a playful smile. She lightly swayed her hips, causing the pompom to move, and then, as if a light bulb had turned on in her mind, she finally remembered what was missing in the drawing.

Returning to lie face down on the couch, she quickly grabbed the pencil and, with excitement, sketched a fluffy pompom on the girl bunny's coccyx. The detail of the pompom tail, which had bothered her all morning, was now present, and she finally completed her drawing with pride.

#Wanda maximoff #Wanda smut #Bunny Wanda #Wanda x reader #Wanda maximoff x reader #Wanda maximoff x y/n #Wanda maximoff x you #Wanda maximoff smut #Wanda maximoff fanfic #marvel imagines

415 notes · View notes

sinning-23 · 6 months

Text

Shake a'lil Ass

OPLA Reaction to you shaking ass, and shaking it well.

I already told yall this was my current hyperfixation I'm going all in and losing my fucking marbles in the process. Uhhhh yeah! Enjoy

Warnings: none really? like may e a PINCH of nsfw but you'll live lol, metions of shakin ass, and catching it.

Zoro

-Not really a jaw drop but his eyes get kinda big. Like he knew you had ass but to see it move like fuckin water was definitely an awakening

-Won't go out of his way to stare but will side-eye the fuck outta you when you do like a lil twerk, just barely shaking your ass in little circles. He loves that tbh.

-NOW IT'S A DIFFERENT STORY IF Y'ALL ARE IN AN ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

-Not that he's not gonna be mad if you're shaking as in one of the various bars they made to find their way in cause he can fight. God forbid some stranger tries to catch what is rightfully his. It's game over

-On the off chance that he actually dances with you, be prepared for his hands to be on your hips, handling anything you throw back. You might even get him to bite his lip a lil.

-If you ask him to shake ass he won't. you WILL NOT convince him. Even if it's just for a little bit, and no one is around. No ma'am no ham no spam

Luffy

-The first time he caught you twerk a lil bit was when you happened to be mopping the deck. However, the mop acted as a pole for you to keep your balance while you were in more or less a squat position, ass moving up and down.

-“What are you doing?”

-He really didn’t know what that was but he knew for a FACT he had to see it again…for research and demonstration purposes.

-Tried to catch it, but kinda of failed. Doesn’t try again but will definitely watch you when you throw it back.

-Doesn’t really have a problem with you finding another dance partner that can shake ass with you.

-He's already 5 steps ahead when a dude tries to come behind you.

-Just know before he can get his hands on you he’s being yanked back by a stretchy pair of arms and a smile that is more threatening than friendly

-He’s loved dancing with you and is more than happy to keep his hands on your hips when you throw it slow.

-His eyes get this kinda low, focused look, and somehow his lip always ends up tucked between his teeth. And there’s ALWAYS a blush rising to his cheeks.

-Gives a low, “okayyyyy.” To kinda hype you up

-What can he say his girl's so talented and beautiful and he gets to have her allll to himself.

-WHAT?! He’s allowed to be a bit possessive 😌

Sanji

-GYATTTT DAMN. Like he's stared before cause who wouldn't stare at you even when you're not twerking.

-The MINUTE he hears a beat drop and sees you sprint over to a space wide enough for your antics he's up and ready to protect you from creeps. (but also there to enjoy the show tbh)

-Never seen somebody twerk in a split before but now he has and the memory of you is tucked in a special folder in his brain...for safekeeping.

-Personally, he likes it when you have your random twerk moments. it could be the most simple task you're doing and you sneak in a lil jiggle just cause.

-In an established relationship best believes he's behind you, trying his damndest to keep up. one hand on your hip, the other taking a drag from his cigarette.

-Ok...maybe he'll try a little shake if you ask long enough, and he surprisingly got some cake back there. (whatchu doin with all that ass)

Nami

-That's my best friend, she a real bad bitch

-As your certified bestie... 9 times out of 10 she's shaking ass with you...her knees pop sometimes (hot girls with bad joints)

-Give her a break she don't do this often

-She tries and has gotten significantly better, learning from the best (you)

-In a relationship with her best believe your shakin ass on her. Like that's a given and gad damn can she catch whatever is thrown at her.

-She gets hella into it too, a focused look in her eyes with her lower lip tucked between her teeth

-Good music? a few drink in your systems? I mean there's already a dance circle formjng and there the two of you are throwing ass and catchign it for one another.

-She shakes her thighs a lot when shes alone and that ultimately turns into a lil twerk circle when shes feelin herself.

-'Oh wow...my ass kinda fat in this?" she smiles, turnng to the side to admire her figure.

-She gets kinda silly with it, chanting 'aye aye aye" or "fuck it up! fuck it up!"

-Nami = best twerk partner

Usopp

-Thinks he can catch it

-Is quickly proven TF WRONG. He miscalculated how much effort goes into that and damn he got overwhelmed fast

-Jesus Christ woman why you got so much ass like wtf

-He can’t catch it but he will grab two big handfuls of it when the chance arises

-Please throw it back slow on him- he’s literally gonna disintegrate omg.

-Yes he will shake ass with you

-Like Nami he will also hype you up

-Runs with you to the floor when the first few notes of back that ass up play. It’s serious business

-Don't let him get some drinks in his system cause ya'll will be in a nice little corner, lights just dim enough, your back to his front, the both of yall fuckin it up

Shanks

-PLEASE feel free to shake ass cause he's gonna watch, catch, and grind without a care in the world.

-The first time he caught you it was just a little jiggle, nothing more but as the drinks progresses, the more comfortable you got.

-Mans is kinda hypnotized with the way you move, like the circles, whew

-Can catch it VERY well. Only once did he falter a bit, stumbling only a pinch but he blamed it on the alcohol (no jamie foxx)

-really liked when you twerk show, purposefully pressing agaisnt him. but also

-Will squeeze the plush of your ass when you do, and I mean a handful of your ass is in his hand.

-Set his drink on top of it when you go slow because he knows you won't spill it. You'll get justtttt close enough but your hips are so calculated you don't.

-Get him drunk enough he'll shake some ass, only with you tho. dont tell him about it the next day, he'll deny deny deny with that stupid smile on his face.

Buggy

-I don't think we need to beat around the bush here. THIS MAN LOVES YOU AND YOUR ASS.

-He can catch it...sometimes. No there will not be further elaboration.

-Oh the occasion that he can successfully handle the way you move he manages to pull your hips onto him, loving the feeling of you shaking it slower

-It doesn't take much convincing to get him to twerk with you. he might ask why but will put his hands on his knees to prepare for your tutorial anyway.

-Now you wanna talk about the sound of rattling bones.... yes he tried to shake ass...but the thing is he doesn't really have any ass to shake so it just...its comical

-He's well aware of the fatty you got, hell he can't keep his hands from landing harsh smacks whenever he gets a chance. Don't let him catch you throwin it back 'cause he's gonna have the time of his life slapping it.

-Damn near fucking while dancing I mean it gets kinda nastyyyyy

-Saw you wall twerk, hasn't been the same since

-Not when he isn't particularly in the mood to dance, he loves to watch, and that's even better because he has an excuse to fuck up the next person to try and lay hands on what his.

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n3llieelle · 1 year

Note

A fluffy fanfic where Leon is doing push-ups and you decided to sit on his back to make it harder pleaseeeee (he doesn’t even break a sweat lol). Love your fics! <3

This idea is very cute omfg I’m literally giggling and kicking my feet tbh, I can actually imagine this in my head…

Thank you for loving my fics and the support. 💋

I love u my lovely!! <3

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— Stormy Days

Pairings: Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: The reader waking up to Leon not being in the bed, but drops him a text to see where he is at and he is at the gym working out. The reader asks him if he wants her to bring him food and he says yes. (Basically thats where the request comes into play) NOT PROOF READ!

Cw. Just fluff and its just nothing besides Leon being the best boyfriend on the fucking planet. :)

Character Count: 9.8k

You woke up, as always, with the sensation of your body floating. This sensation, and your memories of last night's events were fuzzy at best. You knew you had been out drinking with friends from work, and that it was a Friday night.

So why was it still raining outside?

And how did you get back to your apartment building?

You didn’t remember going anywhere you were intoxicated with alcohol to the point where you had to be watched over, like some damsel in distress, and your boyfriend had to come to the rescue scopping you up in his arms like a princess taking you back to the car.

Driving home in the heavy downpour, he would hold you tenderly against him like you were a broken toy in need of repair. He would kiss your cheek when you asked for help getting out of the car, which he seemed more than happy to do. And even though you would feel bad about it later and tell him so, you would secretly admit that this memory of being held lovingly by your knight in shining armor really warmed your heart. Anyways that wasn’t the point.

You had awakened finding yourself in the empty bed.

There was no sign of your knight in shining amour of a man who had been there when you fell asleep. You wondered if he had left somewhere today —he did, and you checked that your purse was right next to the bed and the phone still sitting untouched on the nightstand. Picking up the phone and having texted him to see where he was, so that you can bring him food.

“Hey, love. wya rn?” Had been sent and read at 1:30pm.

*Leon sent one attatchment with image*

“At the gym, babe. Hope you like this. ;)” He replied back.

As you clicked on the image it’s him showing off his abs in the gym mirror, in a black compression shirt (of course with his shirt lifted just a bjt revealing his pack). His face was turned away so you couldn’t quite see it properly, but you could see the muscles rippling.

‘That's better than I expected,’ was all you said. As soon as you typed this, you hit send, but not before thinking to add a quick ‘Love you xo!’, It was a picture that you liked, because it showed his abs well in contrast with his hair —and the dimpled smile plastered on his face that he was obviously trying to hide.

You also thought of sending another message asking if he wanted you to bring him lunch, which he said yes to immediately after reading the text.

It was a nice way to spend an evening, especially considering you didn’t want to stay home alone. But now it was time to go out to see him. The last thing you needed to do was either decide to pick food up or make it yourself. If you chose to buy something for both of you to eat, there was no reason you should be this indecisive right now because either way he’d still appreciate both options. After making that decision, you decided to text him that you are on the way, meaning that you’re going to resort to just picking up food.

So grabbing some things from the kitchen, you grabbed your coat, put on your boots, and got ready to leave. You head to your car and started the engine. Your stomach rumbled, reminding you that since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, you need food first. With a shrug, you start driving to the closest restaurant you know Leon likes. You know he goes there every other week for lunch with the team.

It took a little while, but finally you found a parking spot. Walking into the building, your eyes scanned the room, odering it to go and paying. The food came out quickly than you imagined, yet it was starting to feel like a better day due to the fact you can leave a lot quicker to see him.

The gym was at least five minutes away , maybe ten. No problem there, then. When you left the restaurant, your next destination was nearing end, and you parked exited the vehicle , heading towards the front door. Just as you approached it, you could see Leon working out through the window and you were excited to see him.

Almost running inside, you place the bag of food next to him, as he is doing his pushups. “I brought food…” Your hand moved towards the bag, but stopped short at the last second, feeling a bit weird about the gesture. You looked at Leon and saw that his eyes were closed, his chest moving fast as he was pushing himself up and back down off the floor.

He looked good doing so…

He looked like a hero, to be exact.

“You won’t mind if I sit down would you?” You asked tentatively. Leon opened his eyes and glanced at you with a raised eyebrow. “Not at all.” A small smirk made its way onto his lips. “You’re my guest. Sit down wherever you’d like.” You grinned mischievously sitting down on his back, as he continued to do his workout.

You could feel him tense up slightly from underneath you, then relax again, but it didn’t seem to be a problem that you were on him, however, he didn’t seem to break a sweat at all. He just kept doing what he was doing without breaking stride. After a minute you started to think he could do it forever, until he told you “Aright, I’m gonna need you to get off of me, princesses.” his words made your face flushed, when you got up off of him He stood up he wiped his forehead with a towel, then turned around to look at you, raising an eyebrow. “What? Why? Did you find something wrong with my form?” He laughed. Of course he wouldn’t have noticed if that you were blushing, but it was obvious due to the fact you were a tomato red.

“No, silly! Just wondering why you called me princess..” The way you spoke made your cheeks heat up even more. Leon smiled, “Well, I figured that since you’ve spent most of the weekend sleeping with me, I guess it only made sense to let you know you’re my princess.” He smiled. “Plus,” he chuckled, “It’s attached to me ever since you keep calling me your knight in shining armour.”

Your face brightened as you giggled. “I only thought to mean that you belonged to me.” You looked up at him as if your gaze could melt him. He chuckled. “You have been mine for quite sometime now, dear, you can hardly blame me for thinking so.” He finished smiling down at you, leaning down to press his lips briefly against yours.

After a short silence, you pulled away from him and said “Well, that’s not a fair tradeoff at all. I don’t want you claiming me because you’re stuck with me. I want you to claim me because we’re in love.” Leon raised his eyebrows at you. “Why did we ever choose to date each other?” He joked lightly.

“Well, it was either that or get married.” You joked. Leon bursted out laughing at your joke. “True. We do fit perfectly together, don't we?" He looked down at you and stroked your face softly. You nodded, smiling. Suddenly the sound of rain hitting the roof outside was heard. “Looks like it’s about to pour hard again. We’ll have to take home then.” He looked outside the window.

“Yeah...” You agreed sadly. “But I don’t wanna take home yet.” You pouted. “Oh… Well... we can eat our food first. Then we'll leave…” His voice sounded very reluctant, you realised as his eyes flickered away from your face. “Or we could do both. We’ll eat, then we’ll leave, then we’ll come back here later next week?” You suggested. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s hope that everything goes okay today. If it doesn’t, well then...” Leon trailed of. “Well, we’ll try and figure something else out.” He shrugged, giving a half smile.

“Let’s hope we’re not stuck waiting for hours.” You said, shaking your head. Leon hummed, agreeing. As you both ran towards the car with everything getting in the car, the sky seemed to darken significantly. It looked ominous. And as you drove along the road back home you knew that this would be one of those days, where everything seems to go wrong and there’s nothing that can fix it.

When the two of you arrived home, you dropped your bags on the ground before heading upstairs to grab a change of clothes from the bathroom. Leon sat down on the sofa and started watching tv as he waited. After a few moments, you came back downstairs and put a moive on, as you were about to binge and eat your food. You walked over to the couch and sat down beside him, taking a bite from your sandwich before you continued talking to him.

“So, how long do you think the rain will last?” You asked looking out the large front windows, seeing the heavy grey clouds outside. Leon glanced at his phone. “I’m not sure, princess. It looks like we’re going to get some pretty bad weather soon. We might have to call it early, and get some rest.” You nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

‘Hopefully we won’t get any storms tonight though. If we get a storm, I won’t be able tp sleep tonight…’ you sighed to yourself. As you ate, and watched the TV, and talked with Leon, time passed by quickly.

You had finished eating and you hadn’t really gotten much sleep so you ended up falling asleep laying on his chest, your head laid comfortably against his shoulder, your arms holding tightly onto his shirt as you slept, completely oblivious to the fact that you were wrapped in Leon’s arms. As you were slowly drifting off you felt Leon’s head ontop of yours, while he was asleep as well.

As you both fell asleep in a warm embrace, the rain never stopped pouring down and you woke up the following morning covered in a blanket, snuggled close to Leon’s body. You stretched your limbs lazily and yawned deeply. Once you felt the need to wake him up, you tried to move but suddenly he hugged you tighter and placed a soft kiss on top of your hair. “Mmmh…. good morning~.” You said, still half asleep. Leon groaned in response as his arm tightened around your waist. “Heyyy... I was hoping you’d stay a little longer with me....” you giggled quietly and placed another light kiss on top of his hair. Deciding to stay with him long, leading you both to falling back asleep in an extremely peaceful position.

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#resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem! reader #leon kennedy #resident evil 🚔#leon kennedy needs me #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy

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shiftingconfessions · 10 days

Note

A lot of these new shifters who came from TikTok and Amino are lying. Not because their stories are unrealistic—they are realistic—but it's because Amino was coded the same way. In 2021, everyone got exposed for lying, and now on TikTok, they're admitting they're lying for attention. Now, shifting is real; I have been doing it since 2019, but be careful who you're following and who you're listening to. A lot of these new shifters who ran away from TikTok because it's crumbling are just Wattpad writers or having a false attempt at living "in the end" in hopes that helps them shift. And then, others are just having lucid dreams or false awakenings and calling it a day. Please do your own research; shifting is very real. Stick to the old shifters on here—I can think of 3—not anyone who came during 2024. The quality of shift Tumblr is becoming juvenile, which is sad because it's been one of the best communities thus far. Take from the OG and please dip so you don't slow down your own journey. This has happened on every platform, unfortunately, but the people engrossed in drama are lying and attention-seeking.

The stories that literally sound like they're Wattpad-coded or just make no sense to the foundation of shifting are lying; the questionable memories are lucid dreams or a hypnagogic state. Again, shifting is REAL, the law is REAL, manifesting is real, but a lot of people are uneducated and literally want to spread misinformation and lies for shits and giggles, and it's embarrassing. Keep it on Amino and TikTok—you know who I am talking about. m unfortunately but the people engrossed in drama are lying and attention seeker, the stories that literally sound like they’re wattpadd coded or just make no sense to the foundation of shifting or lying, the questionable memories are lucid dreams or hypnagogic state. Again shift is REAL the law is REAL manifesting is real but a lot of people are uneducated and literally want to spread the misinformation and lies for shits and giggles and it’s embarrassing keep it on amino and tik tok you know who I am talking about

As someone who shifts often and meets with other wise shifters across realities , here are some tips:

1. **Stick to the Law**: The law of assumption will not fail you and is always in operation. Learn about it.

2. **Avoid Useless Debates**: Stop engaging in meaningless debates; this isn't drama club. Those involved in such debates likely aren't shifting—they're like crabs in a bucket.

3. **Embrace Lucid Dreams**: Lucid dreams can be your best friend. You sleep for a third of your life, so use it to your benefit!

4. **Believe It's Possible**: Yes, you can shift without trying, but most won't achieve this because you can't do something you don't believe to be true. Don't lie to yourself; honesty is key to progress. It’s okay to want techniques and use them, it’s okay to be lazy sometimes but some of you guys are being lazy without the assumption that will aid you so it will not work!! Shifting is worth it but some work in it’s okay…

5. **Don't Let Doubts Hold You Back**: Understand that your doubts can't stop you. Don't attach yourself to them.

6.Use Methods That Fulfill You: Stop copying others. There are no rules to shifting, which is why it works differently for everyone. Just because a method worked for someone else doesn't mean it will work for you in the same way.

7. **Feeling Is the Secret**: Your emotions and feelings play a crucial role in shifting.

8. **Have Faith in Yourself**: If you doubt everything else, at least have faith in yourself. Shifting is a part of you and is within you.

Good luck, and research wisely! Shifting is very real it’s so amazing guys. Please don’t scroll too much on this app anymore the quality has gone to shit in the last week or two and it will get worse.. don’t make the same mistakes everyone did in 2020!!!! You all can do it even the people currently lying (and it’s very obvious pls log off lol) they can do it too :)! To infinity and beyond my friends ☯️

#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting realities #desired reality #shifting community #shifting

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biancadjarin · 1 year

Text

ʚ Send Me an Angel ɞ

- pairing: mean!eddie munson x bratty!henderson older sister!female reader

- content warning: 18+ nothing too graphic, but I prefer no minors on my blog, thankssss

- a/n: idk what this is lol, I just love fem/bratty reader and intimidating/mean Eddie <3

“Ugh why do your weird nerdy friends have to come here Dusty??” you pout at your little brother as you lay on your stomach on your bed, him staring at you from your doorway.

“I told you, the drama kids are putting on a play or some shit so we can’t play D&D in there.” He says to you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Just stay in here, my friends don’t wanna listen to your stupid shows on the TV or watch you dance around to your girly music.” He slams your door shut and your head shoots up off a pillow, shocked at how rude he can be. You scoff and roll onto your back, eyes growing heavy and leading you into your after school nap.

You’re rudely awakened by loud laughter and yelling. You look at the pink clock on your wall. 6:05pm. Their little game has only been going for 5 minutes and you’re already annoyed. You get up and head to your door, swinging it open and heading towards the bathroom for a quick shower before you go make yourself some dinner.

“C’mon Eddie, I wanna cast a spell, hurry up and roll!” you hear Mike Wheeler yell. Little twerp just like your brother. Always running into the house, tracking in dirt, leaving their bikes in the drivew… Wait. Eddie. Eddie’s here. In your dining room. You’ve had a crush on Eddie all year and while you two have talked here and there, you’d be lying if you said his harsh leather metal head look didn’t scare you a bit. You’re all soft edges, pink backpack, frilly white socks rolled over your reeboks, soft hair swaying. You’re not perfect, certainly no Phoebe Cates. But you know you’re pretty, plush lips over straight teeth, cute perky boobs and a butt that jiggles when you walk.

You’ve felt Eddie’s eyes on you at school. Once he even bumped into you when you stopped short to tie your shoe. “Walk much?” Eddie said to you with a glare. “Oh!” You’d said as you spun around, surprised at his proximity. “S-sorry.” You said sweetly, his big brown eyes stared at you and made your tummy flutter in the most amazing way. Your tummy isn’t flat and perfect but that’s ok. You like cookies too much, is that a crime?!

“Actually since you’re here, can you hold my books while I tie my shoes?” you’d asked, voice smooth and sweet like syrup. Eddie stared at you for a second then put out his hands. You assumed that meant yes so you handed him your heavy textbooks. You turned and bent forward, ass almost grazing his crotch. The way the fabric of your white jeans stretched across your cute little butt made him stop breathing. Eddie’s mind went blank, mouth going dry and fingers going numb from the weight. Your textbooks slipped out of his hands and hit the floor with a slam. You squeaked a scared little scream and stood back up quickly. “Shit are you okay?” Eddie asks you as he drops down and picks the books back up, placing them gently into your small hands. “I’m fine. Was just loud. Scared me.” He chuckled, eyes narrowed and and flickered with mischief, making you wonder if he did that on purpose. “I’m sorry angel… I mean-” Your reaction to his nickname for you got cut short when you jumped for the second time in the last two minutes thanks to the class bell ringing. “Gotta go.” Eddie said with a wink before racing past you, your face red with embarrassment.

You giggle at the memory as you exit the shower. Quickly running back to your room to get ready, you think to yourself: How can I get Eddie’s attention but not let him know he has mine? I think he likes me but I don’t wanna look too desperate. Gotta tease him a bit… You curl your lashes and put on your sparkly pink lipgloss. You open your closet and weigh your options… tight jeans?… but you want Eddie to see your panties. A dress? that’s a little too obvious… your fingers reach for your soft pink frilly mini skirt that has a matching jacket that your friend borrowed and never gave back. You slip it on, white and pink lace panties underneath with a scalloped edge that hug your ass just right. A simple white T shirt that’s slightly see through over a matching pink and white lace bra and a couple sparkly silver necklaces finish your outfit. Barefoot you begin to creep downstairs, the sounds of boys whooping and dice hitting your wooden dining room table growing louder as you ascend.

“So uh, where’s your sister D?” you hear one of the boys ask. You stop on the second to last step, leaning in to listen. It’s not Eddie’s voice, but too deep to be Mike or Lucas’s. “Up in her room, she’s so annoying.” You roll your eyes. “Maybe..” Gareth grumbles. “But I certainly don’t mind lookin’ at her.” Everyone busts out into laughter except your brother. “Ew dude gross! Shut up, it’s your turn.” “Yeah G,” you finally hear Eddie’s voice, it sounds deep and tight like he’s clenching his jaw. “Roll the dice before I write you out of this whole campaign.” “Jeez fine. I got a 12.” “Not enough, you lose 18 hit points.” “What the fuck man!”

As the game continues you saunter past the table, only turning your head once to smile and wave politely at the group. You feel Eddie’s eyes follow you all the way to the kitchen. Their conversation continues on, sounding further away now. You begin to warm up some rice and leftover chicken, mixing up a strawberry lemonade while the microwave whirs. As you watch the yellow drink turn pink you feel a warmth encroach your space, the smell of weed and cinnamon gum filling your nostrils.

“Hey y/n.. didn’t know you were here.” Eddie says as he stands behind you. Closer than what would be considered normal. You spin around, big doe eyes looking up and meeting his, small silver spoon that you were mixing with coming up to your lips and sucking, savoring the tangy powder. His eyes fall to your mouth, half hooded, eyebrows raising slightly. You pull it out slowly and lick the tip of it with your tongue, before saying “I live here. Where else would I be?” in your bratty tone.

He shrugs his shoulders, “Friday night, thought maybe you’d be on a date.” He says with a crooked smile. Does he think about me going on dates? He crowds closer into your space, you feel the countertop at your back as you lean against it. “Nope. No date. Maybe you can set me up with one of your friends?” you say as you look past him, over his shoulder towards where Hellfire is. “My friends? You wanna date one of us?” “I don’t know.. maybe. You think they’d be interested?” you ask him confidently but your heart is beating so fast, your breath uneven, chest rising with every shaky inhale. BEEEEEP. The microwave signals behind you. “Eddie! You done in the bathroom yet?!” you hear your brother yell from down the hall. “Sounds like you’re needed out there.” You say to him, beginning to slide past him. His hand shoots up to grab your hip and maneuver you back. Caged in by him.

“Yeah, gimme five minutes!” He yells over his shoulder. You stare up at him, unsure what he’s going to do. He reaches behind you picking up your pink lemonade and drinks the whole thing in one long sip. You watch as his neck stretches back and his adams apple bobs when he swallows. The pale smooth skin of his neck looking irresistibly bite-able. “Sweet. Like you.” He says, low and gravelly. He puts the glass down and drops his chin to his chest, looking at the small space between your bodies. “Is this a skirt or a belt? So fuckin’ short I thought I saw some ass when you walked by.” “Maybe I wanted your friend to see. What’s his name? With the curls… Gareth?” Eddie snorts and throws his head back with a mock laugh. “Gareth wouldn’t know what to do with you.” His eyes sweep down your neck, your chest and stop at where the thin fabric of your shirt and lace bra are barely doing anything to cover the pebbled peaks of your nipples. “Oh and you know what to do with me?” you ask, eyebrows raising condescendingly. He exhales a low growl before reaching to grab the back of your squishy thighs and lifting you up onto the counter.

“I’d have a lot of fun finding out-” he leans forward, hands softly grasping the back of your calves, thumbs rubbing up and down the smooth skin as he guides them to rest around his thighs. “Angel.” he says with a wink. You feel a shudder go through you, ending at your core and making you ache between your legs. Eddie’s standing between your spread thighs, the rough fabric of his black jeans rubbing against your legs as he talks. Everything about him feels so warm. “Listen to me real good now.” He says, lips brushing the shell of your ear causing goosebumps to erupt down the whole left side of your body. “You’re going to eat your little snack. Then go back upstairs to your room and wait for me. Think you can do that?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he’s backing away and walking back down the hallway. “EDDIE COME OOON!” Gareth yells. “Comin’!” He says back, wide smirk dancing on his lips.

You’re left in the kitchen wondering what just happened and what you just got yourself into…

Part 2 HERE

Masterlist HERE

——————Thanks for reading!—————

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #mean!eddie #bratty!reader #eddie munson moodboard #henderson!sister #eddie x henderson!reader

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simp-ly-writes · 1 month

Text

Chapter Eight: War

Can be read as a standalone: Personal Hell Series (pt.9)

Pairing: (Hazbin Hotel) Lucifer Morningstar x demon overlord!Reader

Summary: Finding yourself living within a bubble of bliss, you and Lucifer lose yourselves in one another- lost in a dream before becoming rudely awakened by the Angels at your doorstep. Bloodied, bruised and falling once more, will Lucifer be there for you in time?

Warnings: 4493 words, depictions of blood, gore, death, injury and trauma. Intense swearing and emotional angst.

A/N: *hides* I am sorry for the wait, school hard, people = difficult.... yeah... one more chapter after this big one- hope you enjoy my latest cooking lol.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

You and Lucifer had been lost in the bubble you created for yourselves between the bedroom and your office. It felt blissful- surreal even as you shared laughs, wines and time with one another. Your legs still felt sore from the nights before, you nod your head towards the various guards arming the halls as they salute back towards you. When you completed your walk of shame towards your bedroom in search of clothing after slipping away from Lucifer's greedy hands, you were surprised to see the joyous faces that praised and cheered for your relationship with the King.

They appeared desperate in some ways, you remember having to hold yourself in a supply closet after a particular conversation with the head baker. The poor man sobbed into your arms, smiling bright and sharp as you patted his head. He then fell to his knees as you looked around desperately for help yet the guards remained stagnant as you swore to see their shoulders even jumping up and down with silent laughter. The baker prayed up at you, pleading for you to stay- whispering the tragedies he had to witness while whipping egg-whites.

“Love- do you know where my coat is?” Lucifer shouts from the wardrobe room, catching you in your thoughts as he rips through various shelves and drawers yet all you hear is a muffled shout from across the private wing alongside the crashing and slamming of objects in the room that has you darting over, spear raised as you roar- readying for attack.

Facing you swifty, Lucifer grasps your spear in surprising strength, forcing you to let go of it with a remorseful smile as he sets it on a nearby table and wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back. You do not hold on to him at first, hands shaking with adrenaline as your eyes chase to every corner of the room- still worried you were missing someone. Lucifer slides his hands up your back, pulling at your upper arms to hug him just as you rest your head on top of his. “Even if there was a vengeful demon in my dresser, know that I am taking no chance of losing you again,” the blonde speaks, eyes stone cold as he glares into a dark corner, becoming wrapped up in thoughts of what if?

“Sir-Lucifer! I-” you begin to protest, arms falling just as he holds you tighter, head shaking against your chest as your hands ball up into fists against his sides.

“You will not do anything- please. Even though you are technically immortal from my blood, I have to give you more of it every few centuries and even IF you were to pass again… you would not likely remember who I am… who any of us are here. You would return to my brother in your newest reincarnation, memories blurred and returning to your role as peacekeeper in his realm,” Lucifer speaks, voice firm in hope that you understand the gravity of the possibility.

You contemplate his words, never having thought of such consequences. You nod once before he lets go and you open a gateway to your house, Lucifer tilts his head to the side, curious as to the place he sees through your portal yet it closes before he can ask questions. The infamous white coat draped in your arms, freshly washed and pressed as you help him into it, leaving a kiss to his cheek as you both make your way towards the hall.

Various staff members smile widely at you when walking by, guards bow to your entrance as you command them to hold their actions just as Lucifer links your arm in his own, forcing you to skip down the hall along with him as you start to laugh at the childish actions. Once entering the study hall, you retract your touch as Lucifer turns back around, curious as to why you have stopped. Making a sharp turn down another hall, you click open a grad set of oak doors that creak to greet you.

Clapping your hands together, hundreds of fireflies hurry themselves towards the ceiling- illuminating the space as you spin with a satisfied hum. Mahogany shelves line behind a grand desk that sits on a taller platform than your own. The chair demands a demanding presence without a body filling its seat, memories of you refusing to look up towards this very desk has you looking back over your shoulder as Lucifer leans against the doorframe with a lazy smile across his face. “Sometime it has been since I have been in this room…” he sarcastically comments, watching as a spider crawls its way across the floor and into a windowsill filled with cobwebs as your cringe in thought to all the eyes of the creature staring back at you.

Shaking your head, disrupting a shiver, you make your way up to the desk, leaning on its surface as your hands trail over the various letters you had sent capturing your adventures and battles before taking up a full-time position at the palace. You hum out, picking up a letter with dried black blood, flipping it over and ushering out the note as it reads, “Best of Mornings, Queen Lilith and Company. I write to you today as an update from the front lines of outer rings. The civil war is soon to be under control once again as discussions have progressed with the deadly sins, I report that from now on I will no longer be talking to Lust after a… personal encounter. Flipping the page, there is a list of necessary equipment to be sent towards the western front that I will be maintaining come morning. To address your earlier concerns, I have endured minor injuries in the fight yet I cannot speak for the hundreds of my fellow brothers and sisters that have become ill in recent time- I cannot urge enough for supplies to come at the earliest moment. Sincerely, General Peacekeeper: your entrusted confidant, historian, and ally.”

Your finger glides over your panicked writing, you remember writing this note while swords and bullets crashed over your head while knee deep in the trenches. Dead-man's land was littered with corpses, the scent vile- burning your nose with its decay as you readied the line for yet another charge as you powered up your shadows in the turning of nightfall. You fail to notice as Lucifer has taken a seat at his desk, his legs spread as he pats his thigh, motioning for you to take a seat as you both continue reading through yet another distant lifetime.

One of his warm palms rests on your thigh, sneaking its way upwards as your breath hitches, swinging yourself to point him a glare. You both freeze as the door slams open and a dozen staff members present themselves to you, wide-eyed and seemingly in a frenzy. Taking a stand quickly, you jump down the stairs and listen to the hurried sentences they all speak out at once- barley picking up any of the words except for three that continue to get repeated, “Charlie, Speech, War.”

Shit. You whisper underneath your breath, your battle armor settling against your skin in an instant, clashing against your spear as you swing it to rest on your back. Lucifer stumbles to a stand, running around the desk yet you fall to the floor and into the cracks between the wood in a blink, travelling through the shadows towards the Hotel as the King grips out his hair- cursing himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He is unable to help without a summoning or sacrifice and there you went towards the face of certain death without a second glance at the chance to protect others. Fuck, why do you have to be the better person, Lucifer continues to curse himself as the staff look between one another- the newest recruits confused as to why the royal is seemingly doing nothing but walking around in circles and dinging a hole into the rug.

Lucifer’s head snaps towards the window as he sets the spider and its webs ablaze, looking down to watch as you gallop away on your horse as a few members of the royal guard quickly rush over to join you, calling and begging after their newly appointed ruler to return. The crest on their shields haunts Lucifer's eyes, the apple taunting as he forces his gaze away, turning to look at the portrait of Lilith looming over his shoulder. He feels her shadow over his form, judging his actions, eyes falling to the various memories scattered around the room in spite.

Her mouth opens, taunting him in voices of uncertainty, of you never returning, of him losing the dream once more- of being alone. He falls to his knees, shouting for the room to be cleared as the staff stumble out the door, closing it with a slam as Lucifer recounts his first visions of you.

He was young, cheeks full and rosy as Lucifer celebrated with the seven deadly sins, they boasted and roared about their domains- unknowing that in the morning light they would all fall under his rule. It was that night, in the confinements of his room, the warmth of a sleeping Lilith resting in his arms that he closed his eyes and listened to himself breathe evenly in and out.

His vision was a picture of pure darkness, he never was able to sleep yet lightning coursed through his veins. Smoke rose from his feet, caressing his ankles with their cold touch finding their way between the threads of fabric in his clothing. It was comforting their search only to shower as they drove back into an emerged hand. You smiled. Shadows covering your face, your hands sparkling like the reflections of the night sky on your skin. Your clothing blew in the breeze as the symbol of his brother burned brightly from the centre of your chest- illuminating your presence and sealing yourself in his eternal memories.

He stalked up closer to you, skin begging to feel your shadows once more. You tilted your head curiously, listening to the small voices that called out from the background. You spoke in a featherlight tone, voice without a dip or waver- you were as young as he was at the time. Still finding your inner voice as you asked, “I do not feel a dream in you, perhaps I may supply you one, dreamless?”

Lucifer nods, feeling as you place a hand to his cheek and murmur a transfusion spell. A few of your shadows drift from the depths of your being, rising from your hands to your fingertips- coating them like gloves as you lift up your other hand to touch his heart. A sudden burning feeling fires inside of you, as you curse out, eyes firing wide in confusion as you drop to your knees, falling over in pain.

The symbol on your chest burns, glowing brightly as you grip at it- shadows dispersing and leaving you nude as an echoing voice slices through your skin repeatedly as Lucifer watches from the sidelines. Your screams haunt as black blood hides your skin and disappears into the depths without a trace. He is sent drifting back towards Hell the next moment afterwards, his presence seemingly known as he sits upright in his bed. Lilith still sounds asleep beside him as he breathes heavily, drenched in sweat as he forces himself out of bed and into the bathroom.

Lucifer did not see you for many lifetimes since they and to say the incredible shock he was in when your features matched the person he stared down upon at the foot of his throne was an understatement. He kept himself distant from then, unknowing of what cruel jokes were being played on him once more- he had already fallen, he had bled for freedom, he had killed for morals. He watched you on the brink of death, pleading out as the voice shunned you for not learning and to start again, he saw himself in the endless reflections of you in that dream.

Lucifer felt himself being pulled out of his thoughts, that familiar burn of lightning coursing through his veins as he stood, the ground shaking as he cracked his neck, his power steadily growing as his wings spread, shimmering in the moonlight that casted upon his darkened eyes. The ground split the gardens, glass could be heard crashing as horns sprouted from the top of his head. He smelled blood, he burned in the sum of every being in hell's pain- but when he felt yours, saw your vision in his eyes. His memories took him back to that night, to seeing you kneeling before him, to see your skin touching his own, and he shot off into the sky, breaking through the roof of the estate with vengeance on his mind. We both will dream once more, I promise.

You screamed out to the field, the ground parting as the hotel's walls shook. Sir Pretentious jumped, slithering to hide behind Angel Dust who looked around in confusion, still shooting at the hoards of angels threatening their very being. You swung your spear between your hands on horseback, countless heads rolled and were swallowed by the earth as their blood cooled your face.

Moving to stand on the back of your hose, you yelled out a command as they came to a sudden halt, jumping their back legs and flying you up into the air- the earth rising with your very beginning as you through your spear into the heart of a maskless figure, they grasped at the rod gouging their chest, trying to pull it out yet you twisted, listening to their screams with unforeseen pleasure before ripping their heart out and pointing it towards Adam himself.

Rage brewed in his eyes, his mask glitching as he dived towards you. Taking a step back his guitar swings right past you yet each string snaps broken by the point of your spear. Cursing out you tease, dodging each of his fists with glamour before summoning the rock you fight upon to split. Waving goodbye as he falls for a few seconds in shock before racing back up towards you.

Adam goes to slam his guitar into your backside, his laugh mechanical. “You worthless whore, turning your back to me just like you did to that King of yours, worthless-” you blink in the next instance and appear on the rooftop of the hotel where Alastor already waits. Taking a light stab at the man, he hisses out, growing in size rapidly yet you blink with indifference. Feeling as the breeze picks up and the fluttering of angel wings can be heard from above.

You summon your shadows as tower over Adam's form as Alastor tackles him to the ground. You watch as the men share cuts and sharp words, red and gold mixing in a glorious cocktail as another swarm of Angels force your vision away as you fend them off. You laugh out, hearing as they each cry out in pain, falling onto the various spokes atop the hotel- their wings discarded in a never ending pile of flesh and bones.

You hear the faint crackle of a radio, turning to peer down once more as Alastor exited the fight, you watched as the shadow barrier fell, whatever deal he had made with the Dreamer was far superior than whatever magic you were given upon creation and with what little you knew about Lucifer's blood pouring in through your veins you tackled Adam to the floor. Spear horizontal as your bodies become flush against one another. You felt as he began to claw through your white uniform- staining it red as you continued to force more and more pressure against his throat.

The blood loss had you stagger, the cry of a vengeful Vaggie and Charlie lighting you ablaze as you dropped your weapon in an instant and made a move towards the both. Not feeling as you became impaled by Adams guitar as you fell towards the pit you created upon entry. Charlie roars alive, Razzle and Dazzle falling to the floor as an Angel sweeps across their necks, she is heartbroken over their loss yet is lost at the thought of you gone again. Her wings flap, her arms overextending in a fight to save you.

She watches as your eyes close, pain rising in her chest as she realises your early acceptance of death like an old friend. Vaggie catches her, pulling her towards the crowd where they battle Lute. Charlie begs for her to save you yet Vaggie shakes her head, dragging the Princess away, heart breaking at her sobs and pleas before a blade is thrown in her face as she is staggering in a battle against the angel lieutenant.

You hear your own spear begging thrown through the air- Adams cackle firing alongside it as it pierces through your shoulder. You slam against the bottom of the bit, head a blur in the darkness surrounds you, chilling your being to the very bone as your pain burns. Please, no please no, PLEASE… you beg to yourself. Desperate to not find yourself not back in the dreamland, you feel joyed to have sacrificed, the glory courses through you- healing your wounds in a golden light yet the pain burns through. Cutting through your skull as it pierces out the top of your head.

You beg for its release, you scream as you pull the blade out of your shoulder before slumping back to the ground. You do not know if your eyes are opened or closed in this pit, you swear to see stars emerging as bile rising in your throat as you choke on it. A black gloved hand emerged, you can identify the warmth that it displays as you shakily put your hand towards it as they pull you into their arms.

Air screams past your ears, you feel yourself rising, light hitting your face as your eyes remain closed. “Is this what heaven feels like,” you murmur to yourself quietly. The body chuckles at you, a kiss pressed to your forehead as the shouts of battle scream louder and louder, beginning your back from the past to the present- gripping at their shoulders for a semblance of stability before they cast open in shock.

White is all you see, red eyes staring at the wound- watching as it heals from their touch as they force you into their hip and fly higher towards the hotel's roof once more. “Not the compliment I was expecting love, but I’ll take it,” Lucifer teases, setting you down on the rooftop before shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. Your mind is still running laps yet your body happily turns to kiss the man as he hums out in approval while rolling up his sleeves.

Pulling away with a wink, your cheeks dust pink as he observes you removing the wrinkles from the clothing. He quickly turns, sensing an Angel approaching as he rips their head off their shoulders in one swift movement. The head rolls to between you two as he playful kicks it away and stands in front of you once more with a darkened look. His breath becomes laboured, his hand curled up into bloodied fists as veins in his neck bulge with restraint to his words as he takes in your state once more, “I told you, I am NOT losing you, not again- not ever.”

You blink twice at his sudden change, your mind finally clearing, “I-I’m sorry.” You watch as he shakes his head, head tilted down, golden curls now falling upon his forehead as your hand twitches to clear them. The deep tone he uses goes right between your legs as you curse out, not right now for fucks sake.

He pulls you into his arms, the world stilling for just a moment. “Let us fight together this time and for the last time.” you nod into his embrace before letting go, a gleaming spear presented before you as he takes your hand, leading you back up into the skies before crashing into an unsuspecting Adam. You both toss the man in the air between one another, sharing jabs and teases with sharp blades and teeth.

Yet Adam knows better as he dives away from this battle to start another as you both follow hot on his trail. His fists connect around Charlie's throat, she screams out, losing oxygen rapidly as he swings her legs helplessly. Your breath gets caught in your throat determination set in your eyes as Lucifer's fist collides with Adams mask, topping it aside as you dive to catch the Princess in her arms. Tears fanning both of your faces. “Are you alright?” you ask her, seeing images of her mother in her place within your arms. Speaking of the unhealed trauma that lingers.

She nods rapidly, “yeah…” and clears her throat, “I-I alright.” You bend down, allowing her to wobble to a stand as Vaggie rushes over, the both of them holding each other in a loving embrace as you turn your head towards Lucifer's fight as an offering of privacy. Chuckling out as he stands tall in pride, Adam looming threateningly over. He calls over his shoulder, taking a quick glimpse and smile towards his daughter and future daughter-in-law. “Sorry I wasn’t here sooner, sweetie.”

“Okay what the fuck is this family reunion shit, I’m here for a fight! How many of you fucks do I still have to fuck up!” Adam shouts, spitting out a broken tooth in your direction with a smirk. Such a well spoken man, you think to yourself- rolling your eyes as Lucifer's gaze snaps back and hardens with this display as he stalks up to face the first man. “Oh, I’m the only one that matters, see you messed with my man/woman and my daughter and now I am going to FUCK YOU.”

Did I hear that right? You think to yourself, eyebrow raising alongside your spear as you stalk closer to them both, eyeing up Lucifer from behind Adam- asking to take the stab. “Its fuck you up dad,” Charlie whispers from the sidelines. “Wait what did I say-” he gets caught up by the golden blood spewing across his face as you seek vengeance in the man's shoulder as he did so to you. Adam swings around, claws sharpened as he begins to take a swing at you.

Stumbling back as Lucifer steps in front to take the shot, he transforms at the last second and shapeshifts into a series of animals as your heart jumps, seeing the familiar snake slithering its way up the first man’s arm.

You take a step abc, sitting beside the couple as you all watch the battle commence. “So this is what you have been up to since eden? I must say- you really let yourself go buddy,” Lucifer stabs, floating through the air without a seeming care in the world. He tosses a smile towards you as you blow a kiss, watching as he catches it in one hand and catches Adams fist in the other, twisting his arm, shattering the bone as he swears out in pain.

The boys share a series of words and punches, you watch as Adam becomes procedurally more aggravated and his gaze falls upon you. Sitting upright in an instance, you shove the girls aside as the Hotel breaks in two, falling again, you could almost laugh yet by the glare in which Lucifer picks you up into his arms once more silences you deeply.

“YOU COME AT ME AND MY FAMILY? DON’T FORGET YOU ARE IN MY HOUSE- BITCH” The King of Hell commands, his voice damming every soul in sight to the ground as they grip at their heads- ears bleeding. You steady yourself at his hip, unknowing of the earlier horns that have sprouted at the top of your head. You swear to see in red as he takes a glance towards Charlie. Fists curling, Lucifer demands to do this alone, his eyes unrelenting as he passes you towards Husk.

Bones crackle and break like a roaring fire as Lucifer chuckles out darkly upon seeing the utter destruction to his features. Placing a hand on his back, he turns back at you, gaze softening as he looks to be a guilty child. You shake your head, pressing his head into your stomach as he grips the back of your thighs, breathing out as you run your fingers through his hair.

Adam stands, pointing a finger sharply in your face. You feel as Lucifer tries to pry himself away yet you only sharpen your control over his head. Still feeling the hot fire of his horns warming your skin, you know he would not stop. “I STARTED EVERYTHING ON EARTH, AND EVERYONE ONE OF YOU FUCKS CAME FROM THESE FUCKING NUTS!” You quirk a brow towards him as Lucifer shakes his head, murmuring, “don’t bother to correct him.” ‘

You smile, feeling as his shoulders untense and allow him to stand upright, his arms now wrapped around your torso as he pulls you into his chest, watching as Niffty eagerly stabs the angel over and over again. You do not wince at the violence, throwing her a thumbs up as she stabs him an extra few times just for you before throwing her head back in laughter, skipping away towards Angel Dust who welcomes them into a hug.

Lute screams out, hands reaching towards his corpse just as you place a foot to her back, keeping her face to the dirt as Lucifer moves to stand in front of the woman as you raise her head to face the King with a knowing smirk. He clears his throat, standing tall, fire re-growing at the horns as you shake your head, I just got rid of that…

“Now take your little friends, AND GO HOME!” Lucifer commands, looking at you for approval as you mouth please. “Please,” he tacks on more quietly, offering you a hand, you both watch as Heaven's portal closes. Sighing out in relief, you eye the troops and the damage as you start to have your shadows access the damage. “Anyone for pancakes?” Lucifer asks, hearing your stomach grumble with a smile. You blush, turning to hide your face in his shirt as he rubs your back. Charlie jumps up and down, pointing widely to the sight as Vaggie nods her head and smiles in acknowledgement.

“Pancakes sound good…” you murmur out, “and then back to work…” you finish your sentence with.

“And then back to work afterwards,” Lucifer repeats with a knowing smile before he leads everyone through a portal towards the dining hall of the estate.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

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