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talesofesther · 7 months

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what once was mine | ch 1

Loki x Reader

Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: A long overdue mini-series for one of my favorite characters of all time. I had this idea when season one of Loki first came out, but never got to writing it, and now with season two coming, I decided to finally do it. There are two important things that need to be said before we head into it though; firstly and most importantly, I will not be following the show's plot at all, this story will only be focusing on the relationship between Loki and the reader, after all that's what it is about and I don't want it to be unnecessarily huge; secondly, this story will be mostly told in moments, which means that not every single scene happening between the characters will be written down in length. Lastly, I do hope you can all enjoy it. <3

Masterlist

Things felt worthless. Everything suddenly seemed unimportant. His whole life, everything he knew, felt small and frail. Because here, infinity stones were mere paperweights.

Loki scoffed as he pushed himself up from the floor, one hand coming up to tug at the collar still wrapped around his neck. This place made him feel as if his brain was melting, it was all too much, too sudden—sacred timeline, variants. A sense of utter helplessness started to weigh heavily in the pit of his stomach.

Yet he couldn't hold himself back from sitting at the single table in the middle of the dim-lit room. The checkered image of the Avengers right in front of him seemed to be taunting him.

This was still the same day, right?

Or maybe not, Loki wasn't certain anymore; it sure didn't feel like the same day.

For a split second, as he looked down at the red, round device resting on top of the table, he thought about how everything here looked so old-fashioned. It was almost ironic, for a place out of time.

Loki couldn't help himself. His curiosity got the best of him eventually. But if anyone had their whole life just a click away, they'd probably do the same.

So he watched, through glimpses passing on a screen, a life that was supposed to be his. He watched his mother die, and then his father; he watched as Thor called him a brother with a smile on his face again, and as they made earth a new home for Asgard. Loki's eyes were already a pool of tears as soon as his mother's lifeless body had appeared in front of him, they cascaded down his cheeks freely, leaving behind a damp path of a lifetime worth of mourning, now seen in less than a minute. The loss somehow felt greater, because now he wouldn't even have those moments to begin with.

But suddenly, amidst the moments of suffering and mistakes, an unfamiliar face appeared. She had a smile on her face most of the time, and even through the static of the image in front of him, Loki could clearly see the glint in her pupils, the crinkle beside her eyes. She was quite captivating, maybe that's why it took him a second to realize she was smiling at him.

A frown etched itself in Loki's eyebrows, he leaned forward on his chair as he pressed play again. Curiosity and... apprehension twirled wildly inside his stomach.

The moments with her were endless. Walks on the beach, shared ice creams, quiet nights watching a movie, dancing together in a dark kitchen, the golden rays of a sunset shining against her hair in a memory tucked away like a treasure; and even a moment of her talking with Tony Stark and the others, while her hand held tightly onto Loki's, the other Loki, that is. All of them looked futile, a simple existence Loki would never have considered fit for him; so why did these moments feel important?

Inside TVA's lonely room, Loki held his breath until his lungs ached. His heart was threatening to jump out of his chest and his eyes were stinging for a whole new reason. He could feel the shaking of his own hands. That look in her eyes, it was one of love, anyone who saw would know it. But the cause of the sudden lump in Loki's throat was the fact that this look was always directed at him. That love in her eyes, that smile on her lips; was for him.

Several minutes went by with him silently looking at the paused image of her on the checkered screen. A few stray tears rolled down his cheeks, and he wasn't sure why yet. If it was for the shock of learning that someone could love him this much; or because of the envy, the longing for something that wasn't even his, not really, he never got there after all.

There was a hole in his chest, a missing piece of something he never had. Loki didn't even know her name, yet a part of him was screaming it anyway.

He eventually moved on, and almost threw up when he watched Thanos take his life from him. Loki watched his brother cry over his lifeless body, yet he wasn't seeing her.

And despite the boatload of information thrown at him, the questions clouding his mind were only; who is she? Where is she?

Lost. Loki felt more lost than he probably ever did in his entire life. He had just watched what was supposed to be the rest of his life, yet... it wouldn't be. So what now?

He sat down on the small stairs of the room, burying his head in his hands.

And then there was this girl; smiling and laughing and holding his hand as if he had been the best thing to ever happen to her. This feeling, warm and heavy, squeezing Loki's heart, was a foreign one—he couldn't quite place why that look of pure adoration in her eyes was directed at him.

He needed to know who she was. He needed to find her and ask her why. He needed to know what she was, or- would be to him.

The sudden sound of the door opening startled Loki, he watched as Mobius walked into the room, his steps overly cautious. "Loki? Nowhere left to run."

Gulping back a sob clawing its way through his throat, Loki took a deep breath. He slowly glanced up, voice calm and defeated as he asked a question he already knew the answer to; "I can't go back, can I?"

Mobius simply looked at him, his eyes holding some kind of sympathy as he spared Loki from hearing the truth out loud.

Loki pursed his lips, his gaze slowly trailed back to the screen on his left that again adorned a paused image of the mysterious girl. Her lips were turned up just slightly, dark sunglasses covered her eyes, and she held a slowly melting ice cream in one of her hands. "Who is she?" he asked quietly.

Placing his weapon on the table, Mobius let out a long sigh, "I was hoping you wouldn't ask about her."

The words made Loki snap his head towards him, a frown coming to his eyebrows immediately.

"She..." Mobius hesitated, "she is someone almost as annoying as you."

"That doesn't answer my question." Loki nearly sounded offended. He got up then, taking slow steps towards Mobius. "She seemed... important, yet I don't know who she is."

"I'm afraid you haven't met her yet."

"Then tell me who she is."

Mobius grimaced; "I don't think it's my place to say it."

"That's absurd," Loki scoffed, "it's my life we're talking about here."

"How about we help each other then, hm?" Mobius offered, and when Loki only frowned at him, he continued; "a fugitive Variant has been killing our Minutemen."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "And you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him?"

A small smirk came to Mobius' lips; "That's right. You help us stop him. I get you an opportunity to meet her and you can ask her whatever questions you want to know."

A meeting with someone didn't feel like much for his end of the bargain, but that same voice inside Loki was still screaming a name he didn't know how to spell. He had to know.

"Deal."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 2 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Loki’s taglist:@milkiane @v1ci0us

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #what once was mine #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

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astroboots · 11 months

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EVERY YOU EVERY ME: Issue #2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Your streak of bad luck continues as you find that the universe is not done putting you in harm's way. Luckily, you have grouchy Spider-man to save you.

Word count: 3,500 words.

Content: Slowest of the burn, near death experiences, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara being a rude bastard and a total softie.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Previous issue] [Next Issue]

According to an article that ran in the New York Times: one out of every 40 New Yorkers will have a run in with a Superhero in the time they live here.

That might not sound like much, but considering that nearly 8.5 million people live in this city, it adds up to a lot of people. In fact, most in your friends circle have their own anecdotal story to tell.

I ran into Tony Stark at the Brandy Library and he asked me for my phone number. Bit of a sleaze but he bought our whole table a round of drinks.

Captain America landed on my Fiat on Manhattan Bridge. He dented the roof, but he was very polite about it.

Daredevil was hanging out at the fire escape ladder above the Meatball shop. Gave me tips on what to order.

It's nothing short of a miracle that having lived in this city for as many years as you have that this is the first time you've had a Supes encounter.

It'll be a great story to tell at parties. You fell out of the Chrysler building and were rescued mid-air. It blows all the other stories out of the water. Though, you'll probably leave out the part where he wished he'd left you to die.

You stare blindly at your computer screen. There are endless rows of cells on your excel sheet no matter how far you scroll. Uninterrupted numbers and reference codes for insurance claims that are waiting for your attention. But the numbers and letters all blend into an indecipherable sludge soup. All you can focus on is: 'I should've let you fall.'

Heat prickles your cheek, as you replay his words in your head.

What the hell.

That was entirely unnecessary.

You didn't deserve that.

Over the course of the last 24 hours, you've played the scene on an endless loop in your head, until the memory is worn and scratched like a used up VHS tape.

Did you do something wrong? You must've. Who has ever heard of a Superhero treating a civilian in this manner? You’re just a hapless innocent bystander who fell out of a building due to a supervillain battle they started. To blame it on you and then call it a mistake. Isn't that something a supervillain would do?

Gritting your teeth, you feel yourself seething of the memory of the windows next to you breaking and shattering out of nowhere as a bird-person villain with mechanical wings tumbled past you. Next thing you knew you were tumbling out the window.

And then he saved you.

Did he mean to save someone else? Is that why he was so annoyed? But, you didn't see any other people falling from the building on your way down.

You replay the memory. Again.

The looming silhouette of his towering frame over yours as he sneered down at you.

He looked at you like he knew you. Like you had offended him with your mere existence. But you don't understand how. You've never met him before. Never met anyone who looked even remotely like him. You would've remembered a man with red eyes, they're not exactly common. Plus, you don't think you've ever met someone quite so tall. Your neck hurt with the angle you had to crane just to look at his face.

What could you possibly have done in your lifetime to piss off a Superhero you've never met before?

For that matter what Superhero is he anyway? You think back at the dark navy suit clinging onto every inch of skin, embellished by that bright angry red in the emblem of a spider.

Spider-man...

Except Spider-man is known to be a swell guy with a great sense of humor. Not a rude asshole.

Aren't his colors inverted too? You pull up the browser on your screen and google "spiderman outfit". There's over 800 million hits. In all of them Spiderman's suit is primarily red with blue embellishment.

Whoever the guy is, you don't think he's your friendly neighborhood Spiderman that every New Yorker knows and loves.

With a hapless sigh, you click aimlessly on your screen, trying to look busy at work for the next twenty minutes until you can go on your lunch break. You go through the motions of your soul sucking tasks. Tagging each insurance claim into one of the following categories: approved/rejected/further missing information required.

Peering over your cubicle wall to the wall of windows, you spy the section that has been zoned off since yesterday. The broken window you were knocked out of has already been replaced, but there's still shattered glass and debris nearby.

Your stomach drops, the phantom sensation of the ground beneath you giving way. For a brief second you swear you can feel the weightlessness of soaring through the skies without anything catching your fall.

You stand up from your desk, solid ground meeting the soles of your feet to remind you where you are.

The office.

There's a monotone drone of workers all around you grumbling and sighing just as unhappily. The quiet tip-tapping of keyboards of the working masses.

Is this the life you managed to escape death for?

Is this it?

It's kind of sad isn't it? You nearly died and lived to tell the tale, only to return to a life so unremarkable your brain didn't deign it necessary to provide you with any highlights (cause there are none).

The most exciting thing that has happened to you the whole of this year was being insulted by a grumpy superhero. The most you've wanted to live was during that span of ten seconds when you were falling out of a building to your death.

You glance at your clock, still 15 minutes before noon. You log out of your desktop anyway.

You barely make it across the street from your office. The light is green as you cross Lexington Avenue when the screeching noise of tires tears down the street and rips through your eardrums.

A yellow taxi hurtles towards you at full speed. Through the car window separating you, the cab driver is staring up at you with wide-eyed horror. In that fraction of a second before the hard metal is going to collide and shatter every bone in your body, you only have one thought: Oh god, this is going to hurt.

Life doesn't flash before your eyes. All you see is the familiar blur of shiny blue and red.

Go figure that's the only moment extraordinary enough for your brain to think it's worth replaying before you die.

There's a blunt and forceful shove to the side of your ribs. Softer than you would've imagined a two tonne vehicle slamming into you would be. It doesn't hurt. It reminds you of that time you played football with your cousin and he body slammed you to the lawn. You've heard about this phenomena, the brain will try to protect itself by going unconscious if the pain is too extreme.

But there's no bright light, when you open your eyes all you see is the familiar shiny blue fabric.

A firm weight wraps around your shoulders, and you recognize this, the feeling of being held as you're pulled into their solid chest. There's not enough time for you to look up, you're slammed onto the ground, the solid warmth wrapped around you, absorbing the fall.

The pressure wrapped around you shifts then lifts away entirely. When you open your eyes for a second time, there’s no one there holding you.

There's no one else there with you. Just the standstill traffic of cars and pedestrians gawking at you.

A concerned woman runs over to you, bending down to help you up on your feet. "Are you okay? That car came out of nowhere."

Your legs feel unsteady, wobbling as you put weight on it to stand up.

“I’m fine, I think,” you respond, and look down on yourself. There are no scrapes, just a bit of dust on your work-attire from traffic.

"You're so lucky, Spiderman was there to save you."

You blink up at the woman in dazed confusion and it takes your brain a few seconds to process what she's telling you.

Spider-man...

In your mind's eye the flashes of blue and a vivid red invades your vision. It wasn't just your life flashing you by. Not just a figment of your imagination.

He was here. He saved you. (Probably not) Spider-man saved you (again).

A wave of gratitude washes over you. You take back every unflattering thought you had about the man not five minutes ago. Rude? Would a rude man save you, not once but twice in one day? No, of course not, you probably just misunderstood him, or misheard. After all, if he truly regretted saving you, he wouldn't have done it a second time... right?

When you get back at your desk, there's a post-it tacked to your computer screen, with an angry scrawl of a handwriting.

'Look BOTH ways before crossing!!!!!'

You stare at the note, and the way the word "both" is capitalized and aggressively underlined.

Rude.

The universe is out to kill you. You're sure of it.

They say that death comes in threes after all. So no one can blame you for being a little bit on the edge after you've gone two for two within the time span of 24 hours.

You stay away from windows in tall buildings. You look both ways, twice, before crossing the street. You try to go straight home from work the minute you clock out from work, turning down any and all initiations with friends to go out after out of precaution. It's just not worth the risk.

And for a while it seems to work. For a while, there are no more incidents. A week goes by and your nerves start to settle and you are lulled into a temporary sense of security before it all goes to shits.

A ceramic flower pot on a windowsill tumbling off the sixth floor of a brown house by Chelsea that would have dropped on your head and split your skull if someone hadn't bumped into you from behind that you weren’t able to catch sight of.

A piece of scaffolding that comes loose and falls from a construction site in West Village as you happened to walk past, and would have been crushed under if you weren’t tackled away at the last second by someone who fled the scene before you could thank them.

A hot dog cart runs amok, hurtling downhill towards you between 184th and 190th street in Manhattan when the cart suddenly out of nowhere, against the very laws of physics like it’s being pulled by an invisible force and changes direction mere inches in front of you, hurtling through the air and crashing into the windows of a bodega instead.

Each and every incident leaves you with an ever growing sense of paranoia that this cannot be explained away by being merely pure bad luck. There are cosmic forces at force that clearly want you dead.

On Thursday, there are leftover cupcakes from a client conference. Mary, the secretary in your team, boxes up four of them for you and tells you to take them with you, because, "you've had a rough week, toots."

It’s not a flattering assessment of you, but when you see your own reflection in the mirrors of the office toilets, you can’t help but think it’s an accurate one. You look rough. Eyes bloodshot with deep furrowed lines underneath. Your face is gaunter than you remember seeing it too.

You take the cupcakes.

It's the first good thing that has happened to you all week, and as small of a comfort it is, you take it as a win.

You eye the box from your desk the rest of the day, squirreled away in your tiny cubicle. You are determined not to eat one while at work. Because you'll be damned if Matt from accounting catches a whiff of your cupcakes and asks you to share one with him. You want to properly savor them in the comfort of your home at the end of the day.

But as often is the case when you have something to look forward to, the seconds, minutes and hours tick away with a reluctant drag as if time itself knew you wanted the day to end faster and decided it'd be fun to flip yet another cosmic middle finger in your direction.

When it's finally time to end work, you get off your chair so forcefully it knocks it to the floor. You are practically jogging through the lanes of cubicles to get to the elevator, and nearly smack the security guard on the other side with how hard you swing open the front door.

It's pouring outside, which, of course it is. You take off your jacket and cover your cupcake box with it, because you're not going to let the universe ruin the one good thing you've got going for you this week, as you run towards the station.

The moment you step into the damp and sticky station any remaining sense of joy in you evaporates. There's a hoard of tourists swarming the subway paying no attention to their surroundings. Tourists wearing their caps and backpacks and wheelies knocking over a 'Caution Wet Floor ' sign as they gather in a throng in front of the subway map, blocking the way as you hear the train approach.

It's not that big of a deal. A train comes every two to five minutes, and if you miss this one, you'll just get on the next one. It's not the end of the world. Logically, you know that. Emotionally and spiritually however, the world around you has just taken a little bit too much from you for you to concede to this minor little loss.

You are going to make this goddamned train.

Taking a determined step forward, you shoulder and push your way through the throng of people to fight your way to the front of the track.

You push a little too hard. Your feet skid across the slippery tiles, leg buckling from your own weight and you lose control, tumbling forward.

In your peripheral view there's a blinding light approaching. There's wind beating the sides of your face, and you can hear the screeching metal of the train right next to you. Your foot drops into empty space and you are falling into the tracks.

Oh god why...

Why?

You just want to live.

The cupcake box flies out of your grip, splattered somewhere across the front pane of the train. There's a hard tug on your shirt as an invisible force you cannot see yanks you back, hard.

Your head whips back and for a fraction of a second, there are crimson eyes staring back down at you, you blink and then it's gone.

You land on your ass with a bruising force to your tailbone with a bone-breaking thud. The subway whizzes by with a demonic roar past you, inches from where you're sprawled on your ass on the dirty tiles of the subway station.

In front of your feet, there's a long streak of white frosting trailing down from your feet to the tracks of what looks like a crime scene.

Maybe it's the stress. Maybe you've just had a bad night of sleep (after many successive bad nights with little to no sleep). But something in you breaks at the sight of the frosting smeared across the dirty subway tiles.

Your eyes sting with exhaustion. Chest drawing in tight with a crumbling ache that makes you want to curl up on the cold tiles. You're just so tired.

There are people around you staring at you. No one in their right mind who lives in New York would sit on the floor of the subway.

But your legs are heavy and numb. You can��t move from the spot. Everything tastes like bile. You try to swallow and force it back down but it's no use, your throat has swollen shut. Your cheeks run wet and you press your palms to your eyes to make it stop but that only seems to make it worse. Snot runs down your nose and drips down your wrist. You're crying and you don't know how to stop.

Is this the rest of your life?

In the morning, you wake in your bed with a sore ache that gnaws at your bones. Swollen eyes and a soreness that scratches the lining of your throat.

Your back hurts, and as you try to turn to your side to get out of bed a sharp pain surges up along your entire spine.

Fuck.

It's too bright. The sunlight is offensive. It stings your eyes and makes you sick to your stomach. You only have vague memories of how you made it back home. Feet shuffling through the subway in a daze like the walking dead.

God is that what you are? A dead man woman walking?

You crane your head and catch a glimpse of your clock on the bedside table. 9.13 You're late for work. But that's mind as well, you don't have it in you to make it in.

What's the point anyhow? You hate that place.

Besides, if the subway on the way over doesn't finish off the job this time around, then eventually a taxi will. Failing that the universe is probably going to send over a ninja assassin rat from the subway to come after your life.

There's a soft breeze coming in from the open window that grazes the back of your neck and you turn your head towards it. All you can see from your window is the brick wall of the neighboring building. Even though your apartment is on the sixth floor, you can't see a speck of the New York skyline.

Still the breeze is nice, though you don't remember opening the window last night. You never usually do. It is silly and paranoid. No human robber could possibly climb up your six storey building just to climb into your window and rob you. If they could, they’d find that there isn’t much to rob in your apartment, the most valuable thing you own is a complete Le Creuset Cookware set.

Your eyes glaze over your work tote bag on the floor next to the window, drifting upwards and spot the pink box sat on the window sill and you stop.

You didn’t put that there.

You sit upright in your bed, setting your feet to the floor and force yourself to leave your bed as you pad over to the open window.

It's a fancy looking thing. Baby pink, and chiffon ribbon on its side. Wrapping your pinkie around it, you tug it loose. You perch your thumb against the corner of the lid when you stop.

It's not another one of the universe's assassination attempts is it? You're not going to open it to find a bomb ticking down are you?

You hesitate for another moment, taking a deep calming breath before you gather the courage to finally lift the lid. Inside, there is a gorgeous display of cupcakes adorned with white and pink frosting, topped with strawberries, chocolate shavings and on two of them there's mini macarons.

Way fancier than the day old Costco cupcakes you'd lost yesterday.

Picking up one, you take a bite. The frosting is light and zesty. The refreshing lemon melts on the tip of your tongue as the buttery cream floods your mouth with the rich flavor. It's the best thing you've ever tasted.

Lifting the box, you check the sides of it to see if there's any note left behind, but there's none.

Gladis Bakery. It's from a bakery you've never heard of before. When you google the name the place is outside of New Jersey, 58 minutes away and you would need to take a subway then switch to a tram.

There's no note attached, but you don't need one. The list of candidates who would be physically able to climb up six floors up the bricks of your apartment building to leave cupcakes on your window isn’t a long one.

Something warm blooms in your chest at the thought, and your fingers linger on the top of the box, savoring the taste of lemon and sugar still lingering on your tongue.

You put your head out the window, not sure what you're expecting to find but find yourself disappointed all the same when there's nothing there. No people in the quiet street below, and nothing unusual above.

"Thank you for uhm... saving me,” you say into the silence with nothing but the traffic noise below to answer you.

“And the cupcakes," you add.

There's no reply.

~ To be continued.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #marvel #miguel ohara x reader #oscar isaac #spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

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tightjeansjavi · 1 month

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The Rite of Movement | drabble

“oh sweet, sweet, dark haired man”

A/N: what’s crazy is that this idea came to me because I was watching Iron Man 2 and when Tony Stark is drunk at his birthday party?? I also do not understand the correlation whatsoever, but here we are 🤣 and Mai Tais are no joke lol

~word count: 1k~

Summary: it’s the first night of yours and Joel’s honeymoon, and he’s had a few too many Mai Tais tonight, baby love.

Pairing | pornstar!husband Joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, implied smut, established relationship, dirty talk, teasing, flirting, language, breeding kink??, Joel forgets you’re his wife in an endearing way, he also wants to pump you full of his babies, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

“Baby loooove.” He hummed into your ear, arms looped around your waist for support in his drunken stupor.

Joel had a few too many Mai Tais the first night of your honeymoon. Combined with hours laying in the sun, endless amounts of delicious food and love making with you, he was in a syrupy sweet, love sick haze.

“Let’s get you back to the room, okay baby?” You had your arm wrapped around his middle, guiding him towards the direction of your private honeymoon suite.

“Can’t feel my legs.” He giggled, burying his face into your neck, steps staggered as you guided him along, “and you smell fuckin’ delicious! Jesus fuckin’ Christ, what perfume are ya wearin’, baby love?”

“That would be the rum talking, baby.” You giggled with him, giving his waist a gentle squeeze. “It’s your favorite perfume, Joel.”

He chuckled, peppering kisses against your exposed neck, leaning further into your supportive hold around him, “Well, ain’t I the luckiest man alive. Where ya takin’ me, pretty girl?”

“To the room, baby. And then we’re gonna get you some water, okay?”

“And you’re coming with me?” He questioned softly.

“Course I am. Gonna get you nice and comfy and we’ll have a good snuggle.” You promised him.

“Oooh! A snuggle with my baby love? Well, now I’m really lucky!” He chuckled. “Man, this place is so beautiful, isn’t it?” He detached his lips from your neck and tilted his chin upwards so he could look up at the millions of stars and the gently swaying palm trees.

“It’s very beautiful, baby.” You agreed.

“Not as beautiful as you, of course. You’re like—the most beautiful person ever, so beautiful that sometimes my brain turns to absolute mush when you’re around me! Isn’t that crazy?” He said with a lopsided grin, eyes barely peeked open as he looked over at you and leaned in to nuzzle his nose against your cheek.

“You wanna hear something just as crazy, baby?” You met his hazy gaze with a soft smile tugging on your lips as you reached your freehand up to brush away a few stray curls from his forehead that were obstructing his view.

“What could be crazier than that, baby love?”

“Sometimes my brain turns to mush when you’re around me too, Joel.”

He gasped in surprise, not believing the words leaving your mouth, “whaaat? No way! That is crazy!” He hiccuped, “‘scuse me baby love, m’ a bit drunk right now. Too many Mai Tais.” He rasped.

“It’s okay, baby. That’s why I’m here. Getting you back to the room safely.” You reassured him.

He nodded, crouching down a little so he could bury his face into your neck once more despite the faint strain in his lower back that he was feeling at this angle. “Baby love, I may be super drunk right now, but imma tell you somethin’, ‘kay?”

“I’m all ears, baby.” You mused.

“One day, and I’m hopin’ it’s soon, m’gonna ask you to be my wife and we’re gonna have lots and lots of babies—if that’s what you want, of course. Hopefully my swimmers are healthy n’such but if not, then there's other options. Hey—why are you gigglin’ over there?” He pouted his lips against your skin, tilting his head back so he could look over at you.

“Baby, my sweet, sweet, dark haired man, I am your wife! We’re on our honeymoon right now, Joel.” You softly reminded him as you held back your giggles as best as you could.

“WHAT? Oh my goodness—you’re my wife? Oh, goodness! I really am that lucky, huh? Wait, lemme see the ring! I better have picked out a good one or so help me—”

“Joel!” You giggled, “those Mai Tais really got to you, huh? You had the ring custom made, baby.” You stopped walking, letting him grab your left hand in his big warm palm and ogle at the dainty rock on your ring finger.

His eyes were dazzling like the stars glimmering above as he brought your hand to his lips and pressed his lips to your fingers and one to the ring. “Very, very, beautiful.” He hummed. “I have good taste, huh?”

“You do, baby. You have wonderful taste and I’m so lucky.” You preened.

“No, no, I am the lucky one here, baby. And tomorrow mornin’ when I wake up hungover, imma treat you sooo fuckin’ well. Breakfast in bed, mine between your thighs, of course. And then I’m gonna feed you my cock—”

You shushed him with a sweet kiss to his lips, “I love you so much, my sweet dark haired man.”

“Mmm.” He hummed against your lips, pulling you in closer, “I love you more, my baby love. Can I pump you full of my babies tomorrow mornin’, please?”

“You’re such a horndog, Mr. Miller.” You giggled against his lips, kissing him deeper, “You can pump me full of your babies, okay? And maybe we’ll get lucky and one of them will stick?”

“Jus’ how you like me, Mrs. Miller. Oh, and one of ‘em will stick. I believe in my trusty little swimmers.” He slowly pulled back from the kiss so he could look at you.

You took all of him in from his messy hair, to his beautiful brown eyes, the flush to his neck and the apples of his cheeks, his swollen lips from your kisses, and his glistening tanned chest peeking out through the opening of his shirt.

“You’re so beautiful, Joel.” You breathed out, and you could feel tears begin to prick in the corner of your eyes.

He sniffled, eyes equally as glassy, and he brought his warm palms to rest along your cheeks, and gently pressed his forehead against yours, “my baby love, if you don’t quit that sweet talkin’, I’m gonna turn into a puddle of waterworks.” He playfully warned you.

“Okay, Mr. drunk sappy pants, let’s get you home.” You pecked his lips one last time before wrapping your arm back around his waist so he could lean into you.

“Lead the way, baby love.” He whispers soft and sweet, drunk on Mai Tais and your love.

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nicoline1998enilocin · 5 months

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Lips like sugar

Pairing | Sugar Daddy!Tony Stark x Sugar Baby!Fem!Reader

Word count | 2.9K

Summary | Tony has offered to pay your way through medical school if you are his date to the endless events, charity galas, and dinners he's invited to. Tonight is no different, but when everyone at the table finds out you're smarter than you may appear at first sight, Tony can't help but smile at everyone with a smug look, and he'll definitely make your evening worthwhile when you come back.

Warning(s) | Sugar relationship, use of pet names (Sugar, sweet girl), swearing, unspecified age gap | Angst: Mention of the passing of a parent, mention of anxiety | Smut: Daddy kink, oral ~ M receiving, throat fucking, cum swallowing, thigh riding, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!).

A/n | This is my first fic after being absent for a while, so I hope you will all enjoy it! It's a fun one to help me get back into the swing of things, so I hope there'll be more fics from my side from now on! I want to thank @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me with this where you could, and enjoying it while I was writing, it made me very happy to see your reactions! 🩵

A/n 2.0 | I want to give a special thank you to @ccbsrmsf1 for the ideas you gave me, as well as proofreading and drooling along with me; I cannot thank you enough for your love and support! 🩵

Banners: @vase-of-lilies | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF credit: the owner

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Read on AO3

You're currently getting ready for the dinner Tony is taking you to as his date, and you're pulling out all the stops to ensure you will look drop-dead gorgeous tonight.

From your black pantsuit with a white lace top to the white stiletto heels, which Tony gifted you not too long ago, to your hair and make-up, you ensure every pair of eyes will be on you. Either out of jealousy or adoration, it doesn't matter; all you want is to be shown off by Tony.

''Are you ready to-'' is all he can say as he walks into the bedroom where you're getting ready. He offered to have you get ready at his house, and you would never say no to that.

''Fuck me sideways,'' he mumbles as he takes in your form from head to toe, and you smile widely at him. You bought the outfit not long ago, and this dinner will be the perfect moment to show it off.

''I'd love to, but you never let me,'' you quip at him, and he shakes his head with a big smile.

''Don't get yourself into any trouble, Sugar, or we might not even make it to dinner with you looking like this,'' he says as he straightens the jacket draped over your shoulders.

Even with the heels, you're still not as tall as him, but you're almost at eye level, which is a welcome change for once. At least you won't have a painful neck at night's end.

''Before I forget, I have one more thing to make your outfit complete, as a thank you for joining me. I know it's not much, but nothing will come close to your beauty tonight,'' he says, which makes you blush.

He enters the closet to grab a white Gucci bag and walks over to where you're sitting on the bed, hands on your lap in anticipation. As you look at him, you're fiddling with one of the rings on your left hand, and you have a slight suspicion about what might be in there.

''Here's just a small token of my appreciation, Sugar,'' he says as he hands you the bag, which you carefully take from his hands. Not too long ago, you told him you wanted to get a particular purse from them, but you didn't expect him to gift it like that.

This may be the very nature of your relationship; you receive gifts to join him as his date, but this would just be too much. He already gifted you the Louboutins you're wearing not too long ago and paid your entire tuition for this year.

But then again, you have never been one to look a gifted horse in the mouth, so you put the bag onto the bed next to you before getting the box containing the gift out of it.

''Go on, open it!'' he urges you on as he slides his hands into his pockets, looking at you in anticipation as he leans against the doorframe.

''I- I'm not sure I can accept this, Tony; you've already given me so much, and I am extremely grateful, but after everything you've already done, there's no need to buy more expensive gifts,'' you say, your voice tapering off towards the end of the sentence.

''Alright, listen to me, Sugar,'' he says as he walks over to you and crouches in front of you so you have to look at him.

''I am gifting you this because I want you to have something special, something you have been dreaming of for a long time. I know I don't have to gift you expensive things, but I do it because I want to spoil my sweet girl, alright?'' he tells you, his large hands resting on your knees.

''Okay,'' you say softly, and he gives you a small kiss on your forehead as he stands up. You close your eyes as he turns around, and a warm feeling settles in your stomach. You can never get enough of him, in whichever way that may be.

You open the box, and inside lay an off-white dustbag with the Gucci logo. You carefully slip it off the bag he bought you. Inside is the Dionysus Python shoulder bag, or the bag you've dreamt of for the longest time.

''Please tell me this isn't some joke?'' you ask Tony, your voice breaking near the end of the sentence. You have dreamt of this bag with your Mom before she passed away, and it feels unreal to have it in your hands. However, you can't show it off to her anymore.

''It's not a joke, Sugar, it is all yours. I know you have dreamt of this bag for the longest time with her, and even though she might not be around to see it, I know she would want you to have it,'' he tells you.

He took his place on your left, and you looked at him with tears in your eyes.

''One day I'll own that bag, Mom, and we will both use the crap out of it, so it'll be worth the price!'' you told her a few years ago, and you both laughed about it then. But now, you'd give anything to hear her laugh one more time.

Your eyes fluttered close as a single tear escaped the corner of your eye, and in an instant, you felt Tony's thumb wiping it with the softest of touches, something you've rarely felt before.

It's not something Tony's ever felt before, either. He has felt your soft, warm skin against his many times by now, but this seems more intimate than all those moments combined. What he feels could even be considered to be love, though he's not sure he's ready to give in to that feeling yet.

You open your eyes to look at Tony, and he gives you a reassuring smile before his hand finds its place on your cheek, pulling you closer to him. You place your hand over the arc reactor in the middle of his chest, your long, black nails matching his suit perfectly.

He places a soft, tender kiss on your lips, pouring every ounce of love into it. Your eyes are shut again, and feeling his plump, pink lips on yours has your mind reeling. You already know you can't get through this evening without telling him how you feel.

The kiss isn't rushed or heated, but it's perfect.

When he pulls away, your eyes shoot open to look into his deep, dark brown ones, and a small smile appears on your lips. It is official: you have fallen head over heels in love with this man in front of you.

Your plan to impress everyone at the dinner has worked because every man can't stop looking out of pure lust, and every woman is watching you with nothing but envy. And Tony? He is, of course, proud as a peacock to have you by his side.

''Here you go, Sugar,'' Tony says as he pulls back your chair, and you take your place as he scoots it in for you. After he's taken his place next to yours, you look over the menu before you, noting everything that'll be served tonight.

''So, you and Stark, huh?'' an older woman across from you asks. You have never seen her before, but based on how she phrased the question, you know you won't like what she has to say.

''Yes, I'm here with Tony tonight,'' you tell her, and you give her a polite smile before turning your head back to him to see what he's talking about.

''Aren't you a little too... young... to be here with him?'' she then asks, and with a small sigh, you turn your head back to her, and you try to tell her in the nicest way possible that she can fuck off to where she came from.

''Ma'am, Tony has asked me to join him this evening because we support each other unconditionally. Tonight is an important evening for him, and I plan to support him in every way possible, and all I can hope is that you and everyone else at this table do the same,'' you tell her.

You didn't notice Tony turning his head because he heard his name twice in less than a minute, but as soon as he listened to what was going on, he couldn't stop the smug smile from appearing.

''Let it go, Sugar, she's just jealous,'' he whispers in your ear, and you nod in response. The next thirty minutes go on without a hitch, though you constantly feel her watching your every move.

''Ma'am, is there something I have done to offend you in any way? Because I am just trying to enjoy a nice dinner and some conversation, but your gaze makes me very uncomfortable,'' you say, most definitely getting annoyed now.

''Okay, let's step outside for a minute, Sugar,'' Tony tells you in a stern yet calm tone, and you do as he says, the woman still following your every move as Tony puts his hand on your lower back.

''I can't fucking believe people sometimes,'' you say as you light the cigarette, you fished out of your purse. You don't smoke often, but when your anxiety gets especially bad, it is a way for you to calm yourself down.

''It's okay, Sugar, she's just jealous of you. She's jealous that I have my sweet girl by my side on a night like this, and honestly, I can't blame her,'' he tells you, but you shake your head in response.

''It's not that, Tony, she's not jealous; she's judging me. She's judging me because of the way I look and the fact that I am here by your side while everyone knows you're single, and fucking everything that moves doesn't help. She is not stupid, but I'm sure she thinks I am,'' you say with defeat.

''I don't fuck-'' he mumbles, but you hold up a finger because you're not done talking yet.

''What do you think, shall I put her in her place when I return? Make it clear once and for all that I'm here because I want to be and not because you paid me to be?'' you say, a twinkle in your eyes.

''Sugar-'' is all he can say because you finish the last cigarette before putting it in the designated ashtray outside, and you walk back in, ready to set the record straight once and for all.

''Listen to me. Tony may have given me a gift for coming here with him tonight, but I would have been here with him without it, too. I know you think I'm some ''gold digger'' or something like that, but I'm not,'' you say as you lean closer to the woman, ensuring she hears every last word.

''Yes, I am fucking him because he will pay my tuition for med school if I do, but I'll be damned if I get judged around here for doing that. At least I am learning to become a surgeon and do something useful with my life. And if I choose to fuck the man I am in love with, in return for a degree, that is my business, and most definitely not yours!'' you tell her, leaving everyone at the dinner table stunned.

You turn around on your heel before walking out of the venue, ready to leave and go home. You're sick of people judging your every move, and it feels good that you took the chance to set the record straight once and for all.

''Fuck, you looked so hot when you defended yourself, Sugar. Can't believe I'm about to rail a badass like yourself in a few minutes,'' Tony says as he frantically tears off his clothes, and you're doing the same with your own.

''It felt so good! I can't believe I've never done it before, but I am glad I did it now,'' you tell him, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins.

''Get on the bed, and I'll make you feel something you've never felt before,'' you tell him, and he quickly obeys you. If there's ever a moment he doesn't want to get in your way, it's now, and he would be stupid to go against your orders.

As soon as he found his place on the bed, you spread his thighs so you could fit between them, his long, veiny cock laying rock hard and throbbing against his stomach.

''Look at you, Daddy, already so hard for me,'' you say as you wrap your hand loosely around his base, and your tongue gives tiny kitten licks onto his tip.

He throbs in anticipation as he hears you call him Daddy because he definitely enjoys it. You don't wait long before you take him into your mouth, though, making him groan deeply from pure pleasure.

''Doin' so well for me, Sugar,'' he tells you as his hands thread into your hair, pulling slightly as he starts thrusting into your mouth and throat, hitting your gag reflex each time.

The fact that you're gagging and drooling all over his cock and balls only turns him on more, so he plants his feet firmly onto the mattress before fucking your throat in earnest, and it doesn't take long for him to cum in your mouth, forcing you to swallow every last drop.

''Fuck, look at you, Sugar, such a good girl for Daddy,'' he says as he pulls you up carefully, kissing you roughly once you're straddling his lap. He can still taste himself on your tongue, making him go crazy.

You two stay like that for a little while, having a rough make-out session that slowly turns into slower, softer kisses where you each take your time exploring each other's mouths and enjoy each other's touches all over your bodies.

Tonight is the first time it has felt this intimate, despite you two having fucked each other's brains out countless times. But then again, there is a big difference between that and making love.

Tonight will be the first time you will make love to one another; you don't know it yet.

Tony has moved to sit up against the headboard, and his now hard cock is trapped between your bodies as you grind on his thigh, your orgasm creeping closer by the second.

His hands are splayed on your ass, helping you move over his thigh, your head laying on his shoulder as soft whimpers and moans leave your throat.

''I-I'm close, Daddy!'' you bring out as he flexes his thigh, giving you exactly what you need to get closer to the edge. It's still not enough to push you over, though, and you're getting desperate at this point.

''Daddy, please! Want your fingers...'' you say as you lift your head, brows knitted together as you keep grinding on him, getting more and more desperate for your release.

''Alright, Sugar, because you're asking so nicely,'' he says as his fingers trail over your inner thigh to where you need him most. His thumb comes into contact with your clit, and he makes small, tight circles, which hurdles you over that sweet edge with a loud moan of his name.

''Can't wait to fill you up, Sugar,'' he says as you reposition yourself over him, his tip getting caught on your entrance as he swipes through your folds, ready to feel you stretch around him.

''Daddy!'' you moan as you first sink onto him, the stretch being something you'll never want to get used to. It feels so good, and it has you throwing your head back from pure pleasure.

Once he's buried to the hilt, you stay there for a few minutes as you adjust, and it's at that moment that Tony can't keep his thoughts to himself anymore.

''Sugar, can you look at me for a second?'' he says, his hands finding their place on your face as yours rest on his chest, each on one side of his arc reactor.

''I've been thinking about this for a while, and I want you to know that I have fallen for you, Sugar. I have fallen deeply in love with you, and there's no chance I'm ever letting you go after this,'' he tells you as he looks into your eyes.

''I will most definitely still spoil you the way I did before, but I don't want you to be my sugar baby anymore. Because that doesn't even come close to describing what you are. You're amazing, smart, sweet, caring, and most of all, you're a good girl, my girl,'' he says, and the way he tells you that has your heart bursting from pure love.

''I- I'm in love with you too, Tony,'' you say before leaning forward, and you give him a soft kiss on his nose. ''I love your slightly crooked nose, deep brown eyes, every inch of your body, heart, and soul... I'm trying to say that I love you, Tony.''

He captures your lips in a passionate, slow kiss that you can't help but smile into. Your dream of finally becoming his has come true, and you couldn't be happier.

''Does that- Are you my... my boyfriend?'' you ask, still unsure.

''Only if you want me to be, Sugar, but only until I ask you to marry me, and after, I promise to be the best husband I can ever be for the rest of our lives,'' he tells you, and he seals the promise with a kiss.

The rest of the night, you two make love to each other while never losing eye contact or letting go of each other's hands.

Tony may not be used to loving someone as deeply as he loves you, but you will be there every step of the way to show him how loved he is and how much you love him.

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wingheadshellhead · 8 months

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i'm back on my "mcu steve was in the darkest timeline because he never experienced the canon event of tony stark giving him a home and a family" bullshit. post-ice steve was isolated, grieving, lonely, going through ptsd and survivor's guilt and he was constantly fixated on how he had no home or family or identity beyond cap. post-ice in the mcu, SHIELD stuck him in the costume and sent him back into the field, reinforcing the idea that he was nothing more than the empty shell of captain america.

"All my life I've tried to find a place for Steve Rogers—but still he lives under the more colorful shadow of Captain America… Perhaps it's Steve Rogers who's the legend—and Captain America who is the reality! Perhaps I was born to be a red-white-and-blue Avenger—and nothing more! But there must be more to life than endless combat! Others have found a home—a family—why can't I? Or, is Steve Rogers destined to walk alone forever—until the final battle—until he walks no more?"

— Tales of Suspense Vol. 1 #75 (1959)

"[...] But, even in the center of a crowd, I'm an outsider—a misfit! Only when I'm costumed as Captain America do I seem to come alive—to have a mission—a purpose! But, as Steve Rogers, I'm merely a name—a hollow shell—with no roots—no real life to call my own! Other men have friends—wives—loved ones!"

— Tales of Suspense Vol. 1 #92 (1959)

in the comics, the canon event of tony stark, the first person steve meets in the 21st century, giving him all of those things — a purpose, a home, somewhere to belong as himself and not just cap — changed his entire life.

"The first week after I came out of the ice… It was a dark time. I'd lost everything. My best friend. All my friends. All I had. I didn't know what I could hang on to. And then Tony Stark came in with this little… handheld cinema. Future technology. He showed me a newsreel. Right there, I saw a man walk on the moon. For all mankind. And in that moment, I felt hope again."

— S.W.O.R.D. Vol. 2 #6 (2021)

"Mr. Stark, when I woke up in this era, I had no one. Nothing. You gave me a purpose. Somewhere to belong… You gave me a home."

— Iron Man/Captain America: Casualties of War (2006)

meeting tony and the avengers, creating those friendships and connections, living at the avengers mansion with them, gives steve hope that he can still find happiness and belonging in the present day.

i always found it ironic that in the mcu steve projects this ideal of happiness and domestic life onto tony. this scene in ca:cw is a perfect example of that disconnect between the reality and what steve assumed on the surface was tony achieving what he never could — having a partner, his own family and kids. (the fact that cacw tony is 4 seconds away from a heart attack at all times and too busy running around firefighting PR crises just further drives home the irony.)

and then in a cruel twist of fate, mcu actually gives tony all of these things: home, family, wife and kid. we see steve witnessing tony having these things and knowing it's all possible, but just not for him and not in this era. (and ultimately, tony only gets to have these things for a brief period of time before having to give it all up.)

mcu steve never got to have the experiences that have shaped every other universe's steve rogers. the presence of tony stark, his friendship, his home, his love (whether platonic or romatnic), that formed the foundation of steve's purpose within the avengers, is intrinsic to steve finding hope and happiness in the modern day. the mcu changing such a crucial canon event rewrote not only the core of mcu steve's story but the trajectory of the cinematic universe. and in the end, the writers sent steve back to the past because they believed after 6 movies and 7 years, he had nothing left to live for in the present and i honestly can't think of anything more tragic.

#stevetony #superhusbands #stony #@

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darkdemeter · 3 months

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OLD DRAFT CONCEPT : " GUARD DOG "

—- not my gif, credit to original poster! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader (x slight Natasha Romanoff)

A/N — Here's a little bedtime story for ya'll. Old draft concept for an upcoming and looong oneshot for Wanda in a mafia au setting. Bits and pieces may be recognised in the published column plot wise but overall, we're taking an alternate route, my babbies.

WORD COUNT — 2.2k

READER DISCRETION — Alcohol consumption — mafia business and semi dark themes — profanity — mention of death and murder — mention of black market and auction — reader and Nat have some history — player reader Tony is so proud — Alexander Pierce is of course an arsehole, what else is new? — Rumlow is a bad guy (duh) — I think that's it?

An expensive investment. A broad term to use for a werewolf broken in by the system at a young age. But it’s true.

Alexander Pierce, the finance manager and ringleader as a whole, did all he could to break you in, and to say he did is an understatement. He exceeded the limits you once believed you had and once you were ready, he put you out in the field to garner your reputation.

You had no limits. Ruthless in your endeavour to complete whatever task was required of you, prepared to do whatever it took, your peers could only look at you with both fear and admiration.

When all was said and done, you were given your collar, then sold through the underground hub for criminals: the black market.

That’s when you learnt in the span of the few minutes that the auction lasted for, that you were either a trophy to those of the higher class of crime, or a very wanted source of security and war. From black funding operators that had their hand in the military’s pit on the hunt for a war hound, to the gangster overlords who controlled territories in the differing states and countries, requiring some form of high end security, there was a very rapid increase in the price they were each willing to pay.

At a total of twenty-five million, your collar and services were sold to Mr. Tony Stark. From the sleek fit of a light grey, three piece suit and bright pink tie, Stark had a brighter outlook on the window of his underhand activities. He was the type that lounged back in the severity of his criminal dealings.

Unlike his fellow company who each wore darker palette suits of either navy blue or jet black. He stood out for sure as his auburn tinted glasses did little to hide the one question on his mind: Was his money well spent?

Well, to say at the very least, you wouldn’t be here tonight if you weren’t every single cent he spent on you three years ago.

Thinking about the memory now, this is a different tone entirely. Dark and neon is how you remember the black market scene, stalls and cube stores with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the smaller businesses which belonged to small cluster gangs.

The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs.

Here, the scene is warm, lavish and made for those who seek the comfort in living in marble halls and pristine white pillars, short cut grass and elaborate parties such as this one.

“Shit, this party is awfully chipper for someone who died last week,” you huff, eyes scanning the crowd from the smooth, darkly polished bar, which you incidentally found very comfortable to lean back on when told for the hundredth time, “Just sit tight, just a little bit longer.”

You didn’t have the time nor patience to sit around getting older by the damn minute. Thankfully, Tony put his card behind the bar so that meant an endless river of drinks. Because you needed the alcohol. A lot.

Not a moment too late is your glass refilled with your refreshment.

“Please, Y/N,” sighs Steve from your right side, arms folded over his chest, navy blue suit straining just a bit too tightly against his body, “have some respect for the Maximoff family. They lost their only male heir to a deal gone wrong. They need our support.”

Your shoulders rise with a particular deep inhale before falling lax, you swirl the sliver of whiskey left in your glass and with a jerk of your wrist you finish it. Ice rattles in your glass as you shimmy it, indicating you need a refill and pronto.

“People live, people die. You cross someone and you get shot in the back. It happens.”

“He was gunned down in the streets with a fucking machine gun, Y/N. You consider that a mere oopsie?”

You shrug in response to Sam’s question with a pout of your bottom lip. “Pietro thought he was the shit. That’s what got him killed by Rumlow.”

Sam runs a hand over his face, now distressed by the lack of sincerity you show for the grieving family. “For fuck sake…”

In the three years of your loyal work to the Stark family and those of his brotherhood - his allies - your colours shone through immensely to reveal a shining personality. Excluding the fact you’d become something of a playful rogue with the women.

You simply chalk it up to your animal magnetism. Something that leaves them wanting more whenever in the presence of your company.

In fact, that was how Tony came to own unclaimed establishments and clubs in the boroughs, ones he wasn’t able to get his hands on before, but after he had you as a playable card in his fold, you provided club goers the relief of being harassed and drinks being spiked. Territorial take over schemes from rival gangs were second guessed when they saw you watching over the joint.

The after hour visits for your libido were just the perks. But you left a lot of lustful and broken little hearts in the wake of your work.

For a werewolf, you were always assumed to be a means of security, and that much was true. Didn’t mean it excluded you from taking on other odd jobs for the families from time to time. Debt collection, assassinations, tailing and blackmail ops, the list is endless.

When Steve casts a hardened stare your way and you mockingly raise your hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll offer my condolences to the heiress, but I ain’t weeping at her feet for her brother who got himself into that mess because he thought he was too big for his own shoes.”

“Just behave yourself, alright? The last thing we need is the entirety of Europe at war with us.” You roll your eyes and salute the captain. “Yessir.”

You bring the glass rim to your lips and draw a small gulpful of your refurbished liquor, the fiery taste rolls over your tongue, you savour it to keep your sanity intact lest you go insane from the waiting. Where was the heiress?

“Well, well, I thought I wouldn’t see any of you again. Especially you.” Your head, as well as those of your group, direct their gaze to the new voice. The corners of your lips twitch up and you flash her a wolfish grin, chin tilting up slightly in your relaxed position against the bar. You looked like a cat happily laying in the sun.

“Miss Romanoff,” each of the men greeted with a nod of their heads. You, however, pat your thigh as an invitation for her to sit. “I had work to do the next morning.”

“Mm, that’s what you tell the other girls, I’m sure.” You clap a hand to your chest with a wince. “You wound me, Sweetheart. If I had the chance, I would have stayed.”

She hums but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you by the rise in her brow.

Natasha Romamoff is a hard fish to catch. One of the more established families that control practically the entirety of Europe, alongside the Maximoff family, the two were partners and crafting an empire strong enough to stand on their own without any dire need for support.

Yes, her family had prior dealings with the brotherhood. The Starks, Wilsons, Barnes and Rogers and more, whether to collaborate on a bigger criminal project to the smaller portioned deals. Smuggled goods and weapons, blackmail intel deliverance, international bribery to keep the feds off your backs. But she never committed to joining forces.

You suppose it’s a good power move on her part. She doesn’t have to abide by any of the family creeds, in the end, you’re all loose ends that may potentially be severed if need be. She had the ball in her court and the mysterious Maximoff heiress.

Even your animal magnetism wasn’t enough to charm her into joining forces with Stark and his powerhouse of families, but they were surely enough to charm her into a wild one night stand.

But as you told her. You had work to do. And now she appears to spurn you with her eyes and cruel words, but still entertains your flirtatious advances and indulges the empty space of your thigh.

For a well respected mob boss such as herself, she definitely liked to play it risky; dressing included.

Last you saw her, she was dressed in a more professional manner. But here at this funeral party, whatever the fuck it was, she chose to wear a black, spaghetti strap cocktail dress that’s short enough to be skimming the mid of her thigh. The slit riding the dress up higher is just plain dangerous.

She’s facing you, back arched and ass resting on the cliff of your knee. Your clawed hand supports her at the small of her back. Her perfume is strong and complimenting, the sweet bouquet of lavender rolls over the exposed tops of her breasts from her even more exposed neck. Her plump, red lips move in a way that’s hypnotic. “So I hear you’re going to be a bargaining chip for Wanda Maximoff.”

“Where’d you hear that?” you scoff with a flick of your chin.

“I have spies who whisper to me,” she answers with a swift quirk of her brow.

Of course she overheard the news. She then chuckles softly, and all eyes watch her with a level of suspicion. “She won’t take any deal you offer her. She’s determined to steer clear of your little gang wars over in the states.”

“Rumlow killed her brother and he has bases around our territories. Wouldn’t she appreciate the extra hands in catching the rat?” Bucky poses the question with a dark brow angled high and clenched jaw, the muscles in his cheeks flex harder when Natasha offers no affirmative response; a mark to hopefully land you in the door and good graces with the heiress.

“You really think she wants a guard dog?”

“Hey,” you growl with a wrinkle of your nose, fangs on the precipice of baring at her. How she used the term in a condescending manner made the fur beneath your skin bristle. Sam claps a hand to your shoulder, somehow able to sense the seething anger within you.

“We just want to help. Offer support for her loss and bring Rumlow down.”

“No. You want a foothold in Europe. And I’m sorry but…” She looks you up and down, drinking in the sight of you and you know she can see you without your clothes on. “You’re not going to cut it, babe.”

She turns her body to make her getaway but you don’t let her slip away just like that. She gasps and looks to you with a furrowed glare when your arm circles her waist and tugs her back until she’s flush against you, the men in your company watch with trepidation of your next course of action.

“I will cut it because whether she wants to admit it or not, she needs us.”

Natasha’s eyes, true to her fashion, darken with a challenge. “You’re wasting your time. She’ll get Rumlow herself.”

“And if Rumlow plans to get her first?” For a moment you see the doubt cross her face. “That’s where she needs me.”

“Tony Stark.” Each of the men turn to the voice behind them and their once cool and collected selves turn rigid, nervous under the power one woman can hold so absolute, her green eyes scan each of their faces before they land on you.

You finally look and meet her stare, still holding Natasha against you even as she tries to push away from you.

“Unhand her,” the woman commands with an accented tongue.

At first, you wanted nothing more than to play this out a little, see what makes this woman tick. But both Tony and Steve look at you, silent in their order, you sigh heavily and release Natasha. Once you do, she wastes no time in joining Wanda’s side with a bow of her head.

“I hear that you wished to have an audience with me.”

Wanda is the sole survivor of this ordeal. Her parents were assassinated two years ago and now her brother was killed. This is the stressed matter at hand, her empire could crumble to the ground, all that hard work put into the grave, because she’s being so fucking stubborn with this deal.

“I will not sign my family, nor any of my shares, to Stark Industries. Enough have I done to keep you out of the hands of law enforcement. I will handle Rumlow myself.”

This isn’t how any of you hoped this would go. The grief has made her stronger than before. It wasn’t exactly you were waiting for the chance for her to have a weak spot and try your luck, but you all had thought she might even be at least a little desperate for extra help.

Natasha’s face says it all: I told you so. You can only roll your eyes and resume with what you’re doing.

“Miss Maximoff, we only wish to help you. All we ask in return is that you grant us some territory to work with for our trade deals as payment for support lent to you to catch Rumlow.”

Thank you for Reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST — (Even though I doubt this is worth putting the taglist on, here it is anyway)

@alexawynters

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jpmarvel90 · 7 months

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The Healer

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Word Count: 3588

Relationship: Natasha x Reader (but not really)

Summary: Y/n was a prisoner of Hydra where she was experimented on to give her the powers to heal. She was then forced to use those powers to heal any person Hydra sent her way. That was until the Avengers stormed the base she was held at. Surely her life would only get better from here....right?

Y/n's POV:

You'd think being an Avenger is a dream. Maybe for the others it is. But for me it's a nightmare. For the majority of my adult life, I had been held captive by Hydra. In that time, I was tortured and tested on. So much so that I now have the ability to heal people. I would dream for the day that I might escape and be able to use my powers for good, rather than healing those causing pain and destruction.

Then one day, the Avengers came and stormed the base I was being held in. Because of my powers, I was being forced to heal the wounded and when Tony Stark came across me, he assumed I was one of them. He knocked me out and I woke up in a new cell. Granted this one was slightly more comfortable.

Three months I spent in there, only being let out if it was to heal one of the team if they were hurt. I had tried to explain to them that I have never and will never support Hydra, but they wouldn't listen to me. I gave up in the end, realising that they would never listen or believe me. After some time had passed, Fury decided that I would become part of the Avengers or be sent straight to the raft. I obviously decided the former and soon was allowed out of my cell and into a room of my own. Not that I was ever permitted to leave the compound, except for missions.

I had hoped that over time, maybe I could earn the team's trust. That I could prove to them who I really am and maybe even make some friends. But I couldn't have been more wrong. None of them cared for me. I wasn't welcome at team meals. I was to eat on my own. So, you can imagine that I was never allowed to team building events or parties.

I was simply a healer to them. And an evil one at that. I was used to go on endless missions and heal anyone who was injured. From small cuts to stab and gun shot wounds. They had no care for the impact that it was having on my body. Each time I heal, it drains me. The more severe the injury, the long it would take for me to recover. But to the team, it was a price I had to pay for my sins.

I wasn't just sent on Avenger missions either. Any important Shield ones, I would be made to tag along. There were times I struggled to see the difference to Hydra. I was being used in exactly the same way but here, I had a more comfortable room. But I was still a prisoner, being used for powers I never asked for.

It didn't take me long to realise that I would never be able to show the team that I'm no threat and was taken against my will. Not even Wanda, who did actually volunteer to work with Hydra, gave me the time of day.

I would hear the snide comments and questioning of my worth. Then Steve would speak up and talk about how valuable I was. But not because of me as person, but because of my powers. If they could take my powers from me and give them to someone else, I know they would do it in a heartbeat and I would be locked away for life on the Raft.

I started to train myself to help with trying to keep my mental health in check. Some days it was hard to get out of bed. I'm ashamed that I have considered ending everything. Maybe I wasn't meant for this world. But then I would snap out of it and know that I have to fight. So, I taught myself how to. I wasn't too bad, and Steve found me one day and sparred with me. He was impressed and told me that I would be able to support in more than just a healing capacity. It didn't change his view of me as a person though.

So that's what happened. I was expected to fight alongside them, as well as heal them. Although my stamina increased overtime, I still couldn't control the impact on my body when healing someone. But once again. The team didn't care when I would practically crawl back onto the QuinJet. In fact, I'm sure they would leave me behind if they weren't so desperate for my healing abilities.

Today, we're heading out on a big mission. They have found one of the main Hydra bases. Our job is to go in, get intel and blow the place up. Natasha and Wanda will be going in and getting any information they need. Steve will plant the bombs, whilst the rest of us keep the Hydra agents busy.

There weren't too many injuries that I had to heal. Barton took a knife to the stomach, but it missed any vital organs, so wasn't too bad to heal, whilst Sam broke his arm when his wingsuit was taken out and he fell to the ground. It meant my energy was up and I was able to focus on fighting and making sure I did my job to the best of my ability.

As the fighting grew more intense, my comms crackled and I heard a shaky voice coming through. "Y/n. We need support in the comms room. Nat's been hit. I-it's bad." Wanda calls out.

Nat's POV:

This mission was going to be a huge success if we could take this base out. It was one of Hydra's 4 main bases. It would significantly affect their ability to carry out attacks on the scale they have been doing so.

Wanda and I were able to get inside relatively easily with the others fighting out the front. Wanda used her powers to deal with any agents we came across and protected me whilst I started to download as much information as I could. I then started looking through the rows of filing cabinets, hoping to find something useful. Whilst flicking through one of the draws, I see a picture of someone I recognise.

It's Y/n, though she looks far younger. Maybe 18. Intrigued, I start flicking through the file, but soon regret it when I read her history. My hand flies to my mouth and I gasp as I see the evidence that proved what Y/n had told us was true. She truly was a prisoner. Captured when she was 19 and held captive for 7 years. She wasn't born with her powers but was instead tested upon. My whole body fills with regret and I feel like I could be sick. We have treated her like the enemy for so long when she was the victim.

"What is it?" Wanda asks me as she appears by my side. "We were wrong about Y/n." I state, handing her the file, before running my hands through my hair. "Oh my God. She was telling the truth." She gasps herself at the realisation. "How could we treat her so badly. We basically have held her prisoner and forced her to heal us. It's no different to what Hydra were doing to her." I exclaim, anger building within me at how we treated someone who just needed our help.

"We can fix this. When this mission is over, we'll show this to the team, and we'll work to make this right." Wanda suggests. "Assuming she could ever forgive us." I mumble, knowing we have done far too much damage for her to easily accept our apology.

My guard is down as my mind races over all the horrible things I've said, that we've all said. I don't see the guards coming in the room behind us. Both Wanda and I are too late to react before two gun shots go off. I feel the burning instantly in my chest and stomach as my mouth starts to fill with blood. "NAT!" Wanda calls out, rushing in my direction. Not before using a blast of her red magic to end the agent that had managed to hit me.

My legs start to wobble, and I fall to the floor in a heap, my hands trying to stop the bleeding. Wanda drops to her knees and presses her hands down firmly on my wounds to help in the task, but it's all in vain as her own hands are soon painted in red. "We need Y/n." Wanda mumbles before activating her comms. Her eyes never leave me as they fill with tears. I know it's bad. I'm going to die if Y/n doesn't get here in time. "Y/n. We need support in the comms room. Nat's been hit. I-it's bad." Wanda calls out for our teammate. The one that we have failed so badly.

We're amazed at how quickly she gets here, she's out of breath as she drops to the floor besides me. I can feel my life slowly seeping away. "It's ok Agent Romanoff, I've got you." She smiles at me. I can never understand how she is so kind in these moments. She's soft and caring as she heals you. Then once it's done, we treat her like the enemy we thought she was.

"You guys need to get out of there. The bombs have been set and are due to detonate in a couple of minutes." Steve informs us and I see panic form in Wanda's eyes. "Go Miss Maximoff. I've got this." Y/n tells the witch. She's reluctant to leave as Y/n places her hands over my stomach to start healing. "GO! I promise that Agent Romanoff will be safe." She shouts, taking Wanda by surprise. Reluctantly, Wanda gets to her feet and walks backwards slowly. "I'll see you at the jet." She says, before running back through the building to safety.

I look to Y/n who is focusing on the job at hand. I can feel the warmth as my body starts to heal. Though with each passing second, I see Y/n's face become paler. Her eyes struggle to stay open and it's then I realise the real impact of healing someone does to her. Especially when they are so close to death. We've tortured her ourselves as we've forced her to heal us.

Her body suddenly crumples to the floor, and I look down to see my wounds completely healed, not even a scar. "Y/n, wake up. Stay with me." I say, moving to her side, tapping her face gently to get her to wake. Her eyes flutter open and I smile at her. "Thank you." I say, though my heart breaks at the affect my words have on her. I don't think we've ever thanked her for saving our lives. She's done it on numerous occasions.

"You both need to get out now. The bombs are due to detonate any second now." Steve yells down the comms. "Go." She indicates to me, but I shake my head. "Not without you." I tell her, wrapping my arm around her trying to lift her. She's a dead weight but I know I can carry her out. "Stop." She says firmly. "We won't make it if you try and get me out." She says with a look of acceptance on her face. "No, I won't leave you behind." I reiterate, but she uses what little strength she has to push me off her. "It was only a matter of time until I was no longer useful to you all. Go and save yourself." She snaps at me, and I realise that she thinks the only reason I'm saving her is because of her powers.

"No Y/n. I know the truth now. You deserve a happy life. One where you chose your destiny. I won't let you die here in this hell hole." I tell her firmly. "Mr Stark, are you able to come and get Agent Romanoff?" Y/n asks through the comms. "We're both getting out of here. Do you hear me?" I shout just as Tony confirms he's a minute out.

We feel the ground shake as the first bomb goes off, it's only a matter of time until they reach us. "Maybe my death will purge me of my sins." Y/n says through laboured breath. "No, you have nothing to atone for. We do. For how we've treated you. I'm so sorry Y/n. We never should have done what we did to you. It's unforgivable." I try to apologise to her, cupping her face.

Before I can say anything more, Tony blasts through a wall and grabs me in his arms. "Time to go Romanoff." He says but I fight to get out of his arms. "NO! Not without Y/n." I try to get back to the stricken girl on the floor. She can't die. Not like this. "We're going Romanoff. It's fitting that she should die in the place she called home." Tony snarls, making the anger boil within me as he runs out the hole in the wall he had just created.

Even with all my strength I can't get out of his grip, and I give in as he flies away. I watch the building below me getting smaller as we get further away. Just as we're out of danger I watch in horror as the building explodes. "NO!" I scream knowing that Y/n is in there. Tony lands and places me on the floor and is shocked when I start pushing him. "You left her there to die! You asshole!" I scream at him, my anger boiling over as the others come to see what the commotion is. "It was you or her Romanoff and that wasn't even a choice." Tony growls back at me.

"She was innocent!" I yell, taking them all by surprise. "She was telling the truth. She was never working for Hydra by choice. She was a prisoner who spent the majority of her time there being tortured. She would have thought she was free when we saved her, but instead we made her a prisoner of our own, using her for her powers." I rant angrily, tears falling down my cheeks.

"Come on Romanoff, she got to you. Just because she healed you doesn't mean you have to believe her." He argues back. "She's right. Y/n was telling us the truth. We've treated her like the enemy when really, she was the victim." Wanda backs me up. At our revelation, I watch as the others come to terms with what we've done. Steve's head drops as he pulls off his mask. Sam holds the arm the Y/n had not long ago healed whilst Clint looked like he had seen a ghost.

"How do we even know this is true. It could still all be some elaborate plan." Tony tries to dismiss the truth. I reach into my pocket where I had put her file and slammed it into his chest. "Read this and tell me you still feel the same." I spit at him. "We're meant to be the world's mightiest heroes. But how would people react when they hear how we treated a helpless prisoner." I fume, embarrassed by our actions.

I turn away from my team and look to the mountain of rubble in front of me. Maybe she's still alive. Maybe I can find her. With determination in my step and tears stinging my eyes, I start walking towards the rubble. "Where are you going?" Wanda calls after me. "To find her. Hopefully alive, but if not, she deserves a funeral. One showing the real hero she is." I shout back over my shoulder, my eyes locking on to the rough area she would have been.

I start moving the rubble with my bare hands, calling out for Y/n periodically. I'm praying that she responds to me, that she calls out and we're able to save her. Whilst I'm moving the rubble, I see a whisp of red, helping to move it out of the way. I look up to see Wanda, giving me a tight-lipped smile. "She's our teammate. We do this together." She tells me. Soon after the others join us, working to move as much as we can in the hopes of finding Y/n alive.

"Can you feel her at all?" I ask Wanda when we're no closer to finding her. She doesn't respond. She doesn't have to. The pain and regret in her eyes give me the answer I didn't want.

As time goes on, my hope starts to dwindle. She can't die like this. The last words said to her were out of such malice. She needs to know how much we appreciate her, how sorry we are and how much we want to make this up to her. I can see the hope fading for everyone, but we refuse to stop. Even when Fury sends Maria to get us back home. She's soon to join us, her own guilt building.

When I move a large bit of wood, I see a familiar tattoo. 98-321. Y/n has that tattoo. "OVER HERE!" I shout out to the others who are quick to head in my direction as I quickly work to remove the rubble on top of her, ignoring the blood and bruises forming on my hands. I manage to get her free and pull her into my lap whilst the others gather around. "Y/n? Y/n? Can you hear me? It's Natasha." I say to her, tapping her face. But unlike earlier, she doesn't wake.

With shaky hands, I move my two fingers towards her neck and press against her pulse point. I close my eyes tightly hoping to find any signs of life. Though if I really took in her body, I would have seen it would have been an impossible ask. "No." I whisper when I feel nothing.

I hold her close, her skin feeling cold against my touch. "I'm so sorry. Please come back to us. I'm sorry." I start to cry as I hold her limp body in my arms. I rest my head against her chest where her heart no longer beats. I don't care about the blood and dusty that is starting to cover my body. I just want to hold her, in the hopes that, by some miracle, she may understand how sorry we truly are.

"You were a hero Y/n and we didn't treat you like one. We let you suffer when you needed help more than anyone. I wish we could have saved you. Given you the life you deserved. I can only promise that we will never allow this to happen again. Believe me when I say you were seen, and your input to this team was invaluable. You have saved all our lives in some capacity or another. I'm sorry we couldn't do the same for you." I apologise to her through my tears.

A hand on my shoulder brings me back to the devastation around us. "We should go." Steve tells me, with a sad look on his face. He bends down and carefully takes Y/n in his arms. "Be careful with her!" I warn him and he nods. "We will treat her with the utmost respect. As late as that may well be now." He reassures me.

Wanda helps me to my feet, and we follow behind Steve as we make our way back to the QuinJet. The whole team is in shock. I watch as Steve lays Y/n on one of the medical beds and gently places a blanket over her. I quickly move to the seat next to her and hold her hand. I hate the idea of her being alone in this moment.

The journey back is silent as we mourn the loss of a teammate and the embarrassment and guilt settles. When we arrive at the compound a team is waiting to take Y/n's body away and I'm reluctant to allow it. I'm alive because of her. Yet she is dead because of me.

The next few days are dark. Wanda and I plan a service that Y/n deserves. We were able to trace some family. Her sister, Sam, talked of how Y/n was taken one night, and the police were never able to find her. They had assumed she was dead. She had asked why she didn't try and find her once she had managed to escape, and I had to admit that she wasn't permitted to. It's safe to say Sam wasn't too happy when she heard about how we treated her sister.

Despite that, she attended the service for her little sister. She held a lot of pain. I guess finding out that Y/n was alive all the way along only to learn she died like she did much have been hard.

The service was perfect, and the majority of Shield turned up for it. Word had gotten around about the truth and there was a great shame felt by many. None more so than me. I'm a spy, I pride myself on being able to see what others don't. But for some reason I was blinded to this. I could have saved her. She died because of me. It's something I'll never be able to forgive myself for. But I know, that I will never let anyone else be treated the same. I will also never allow anyone to forget that Y/n Y/l/n was the true hero of the Avengers.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #romanoff #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #avengers #marvel #natasha romanoff x y/n

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airlocksandaviaries · 1 year

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The best part about having Blorbos is diagnosing them with my mental illnesses. And by ‘diagnosing’ of course I mean ‘inflicting.’ Take my anxiety boy

#blorbo #Blorbos #blorbo from my movies #blorbo from my shows #tony stark #din Djarin #dream of the endless #kit tanthalos

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aintinacage · 2 months

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endless peter parker - part 14

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faeriecap · 7 days

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mcu releasing cacw like: “sorry mackie ur character who is actually a crucial part of the cap storyline historically can’t get any significant screentime in cap 3 yeah we know it’s the final movie sorry we had to have an endless fucking montage of maria stark trauma porn bc it actually wasn’t already clear tony was emotionally unstable and had mommy and daddy issues followed by the wandavision cooking special for,,,,,, reasons,,,,,,,,,,,, and oh yeah did we forget to mention this is actually another avengers movie and the first spiderman??? best we can do is a scene where sam’s mean to bucky lol …… what about steve rogers??? wait whose that uhhhh is he even in this script?”

(it’s bc they didn’t care about developing sam at all until he was their “only” option for cap and could safely not be shipped with steve if they ever actually interacted wait what huh who said that)

#IM JUST SO UPSET #i loved their relationship so much and we should have REALLY gotten to see it #cap 3 should have been ALL about steves friendships with sam and bucky in the wake of hydras return #it should have been about samsteve relationship and dynamic ESP if they had always planned for sam not bucky to take up the mantle first #ESP IF THEY STILL WANTED TO DO THE DUMBASS CIVIL WAR PLOTLINE LIKE SAM AND BUCKY AND NAT ARE STEVES REAL FRIENDS #IN COMPARISON TO TONY WHO PROVED WHERE HIS REAL NARCISSISTIC MOTIVES LIE #sam SHOULD HAVE become cap at the end of the movie #STEVE SHOULD HAVE PASSED THE TORCH THEN AND THERE #but noooooo we needed chris evans to market the final avengers 🙄#steeb #sammich #samsteve #stevebucky #marvel #i speak #anti mcu #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #cacw #captain america civil war #captain america #anti tony stark #steve rogers #sam wilson #anthony mackie

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 3 months

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Love and Liabilities: Chapter Two (Agatha Harkness/Fem!Reader)

Summary: The weekend before your last year of law schools begins, you celebrate the end of your summer associate position, where you meet an intriguing woman at the bar.

Word Count: 6.6k

Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Smut, dirty talk, light degradation kink

A/N: Hello! I’ll be in rehearsals this weekend so I’m updating a few days early. This chapter, as well as the next few, will be set in the past and marked accordingly. Thank you so much to everyone who read chapter one, I’m so glad you enjoyed it! If you’d like to be added to the tag-list let me know. As always, I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know what you think. 🩵

Tag-List: @aggieslittleslut @gilmorelivie @ris-ris-mind @sabstance-blog

Ten Years Prior

There was something so enticing about law school. Every attorney you ever met would warn you not to pursue law. It was their biggest regret, they would bemoan, and share horror stories of mountain high piles of readings and difficult exams that would slowly weed out the unworthy. The hundreds of thousands of dollars you would invest that wouldn’t guarantee you to pass the ever dreaded Bar Exam. The world of law was much like a game of cat and mouse; with the law student being the meek mouse and the demanding law professors and your fellow students as the prowling cats. Despite the many, many, many warnings, you ignored them.

You were the first person in your family to decide you wanted to be an attorney, so you were shocked to learn the vast majority of your classmates already had major ins to some of the top law firms in the country. It didn’t seem to matter that you received a top LSAT score, or that you were also accepted into one of the top law schools in the country, just like them. None of that mattered, you were already hundreds of steps behind everyone else. So, you conditioned yourself to work even harder. Endless hours of studying in the library, attending every office hour your professors would offer, taking any opportunity you could to network with any attorney who would reply to you on LinkedIn.

There was an even more alluring pull for you to get into corporate law, or “Big Law.” It wasn’t just the temptingly sky-high salary, or the perks that came with working for a major firm, it was the reputation. The attorneys who worked in corporate law were practically guaranteed a job in whatever other field or firm they wanted to move to next, due to the prestigious reputation they’d previously acquired. Unfortunately, you were competing against the majority of your classmates, most of whom had those direct family connections. Your ambition would always get the better of you, as it merely made you work even harder.

Eventually it paid off, as you received a summer associate position at the end of your second year at the top corporate law firm in Manhattan, Stark & Strange. You spent your summer working alongside some of the more powerful attorneys in the industry, and received paychecks that were larger than anything you had ever seen prior. The firm paid for an Uber Black to take you to and from your shoebox law school apartment, and even gave you a free gym membership. Practically every meal was comped, as you were wined and dined at restaurants where the bill cost more than your rent. It was a foreign world to you, the grueling hours made up for by designer handbags and any luxury you never dreamed of being able to afford, especially not on a summer associate’s salary.

You made a point to stay as late as they needed, and always volunteered to assist various attorneys with whatever work they needed done. Most of it was grunt work, like looking over a contract for typos, or printing hundreds of documents, but you soaked everything up like a sponge. Despite the many hours you spent at the firm, you hardly ever saw the men whose names were on the building, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. But, you were making good connections with a few of the other attorneys.

Maria Hill, one of the senior attorneys, usually requested for you to assist her on projects. She was only slightly terrifying, and practically ran the firm like the Navy. But, she was extremely knowledgeable and always made a point to introduce you to anyone she deemed important enough. Towards the end of the summer you were working on a tedious editing assignment from one of the junior attorneys, when Maria sent you an email to stop by her office before the end of the day. This wasn’t entirely unusual, as she sometimes wanted your help with a last minute deal, and she would almost always DoorDash whatever meal you wanted if you stayed long enough.

Once you finally finished your assignment, you packed up your belongings and made your way to the top floor where Maria’s office was located. Stark & Strange was a towering skyscraper in the center of Manhattan. Even though you were in a smaller office with a few of the other summer associates, you still had a breathtaking view of the skyline. Many called the design a waste of time and money, but those people clearly never met Tony Stark. No expense was spared when designing the project, and Maria told you it took over a decade to complete. But, when you’re a multimillionaire attorney, money was but a mere object. The hallways were becoming more familiar as the weeks passed, and it was a bittersweet feeling when you remembered your time was almost up.

The door to Maria’s office was slightly ajar, but you still knocked and waited for her curt response for you to enter. She was sitting at her desk, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun, glasses hanging low on her face as she appeared to be typing. Her office was one of your favorites, it was so open and had a comfortable atmosphere. She had a variety of plants placed throughout the room, and you figured she must have a green thumb, but her paralegal once quietly shared how Maria often committed one of the worst sins of gardening…overwatering. You awkwardly stood near the doorway, contemplating if you should come back when she appeared to be less busy.

As if she sensed your hesitation, she gently shut her laptop, and placed her glasses on the desk, looking up at you. “Sorry about that, Stephen needed a contract updated before tonight.” She motioned to an empty chair. “Come, sit.”

Taking a seat, you nervously folded your hands across your lap, setting your bag on the ground next to your feet. “So, you wanted to see me?”

“I did,” Maria confirmed, giving you a curious glance. “Your last day is tomorrow, right?”

You nodded, and felt a twinge of sadness at the thought. “My first day of classes is next Monday.”

Maria hummed, a thoughtful appearance on her face. “This is your last year of school?”

“Yes ma’am,” You replied, unsure of why she was asking you this.

“Tony and Stephen like to take out a select group of the summer associates every year for celebratory drinks,” Maria explained, and you swore you saw her roll her eyes ever so slightly before adding, “It’s mostly an excuse for Tony to brag more about the firm, but the drinks are free, and strong.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, you didn’t realize they were having another dinner. “Oh, well that sounds nice.”

Maria nodded before continuing talking. “They usually ask the senior attorneys to each invite one of the summer associates, and my pick was you.”

You felt your eyes widen, she picked you? Shaking your nerves aside, you gave her a wide smile. “Thank you so much, Ms. Hill. I’m honored.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Maria insisted, standing up and motioning for you to join her. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you this summer, but you rose to the challenge.”

Lightly blushing, you waited for her to grab her briefcase before you followed her out of the office. “I didn’t mind, I actually really enjoyed all of it.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Maria said, and she seemed sincere. “I believe Tony made the reservation for eight o’clock, but I’ll send you the details in the morning. Thank you again, I’ve appreciated your help.”

The elevator doors opened and you bid her farewell, as she went down the hallway to see if her wife was still working or was wrapping up. You could hardly believe it, sure you were sad that your summer was just about up, but you were one of the few associates selected for a special night out with all of the top attorneys and partners. A few of your classmates told you the partners would occasionally extend job offers to the top performing summer associates for when they graduated and passed The Bar, but you knew there was a slim chance of that happening to you.

Your last day flew by. You weren’t assigned much actual “work”, instead you spent most of the day chatting with the other summer associates and a few of the junior attorneys. Before you knew it, you were signing out for the last time, and handing in your key card and laptop on your way out. Maria had her paralegal forward you all the details, the bar they selected was yet another establishment you normally wouldn’t be able to afford, The Raines Law Room at The William Hotel. One of your roommates went there once with her parents, and gushed about how pretty and unique the space was, so you were excited to see it for yourself. The firm had allotted you one more Uber on their card, and you fully intended to use it.

The drive was surprisingly short, as traffic was relatively light for a Friday night. You sent your roommates a text reminding them that you’d be out late, before focusing your attention out the window. It had almost been three years since you moved to New York for law school, against your parents wishes, and you were still in awe of it. Yes, it was filthy, and there were rats and cockroaches galore, but every major city was dirty. New York was full of history and culture; there were thousands of places to explore, and millions of other people who were trying to find where they fit into this beautiful, messy story. You couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

You arrived at the bar just before eight, you had a habit of needing to be early for every social function you attended. The Raines Law Room was everything your roommate described, and even more so in person. It wasn’t the usual type of bar you’d go to, and it was broken up into multiple rooms with the actual bar in the center of it all. Many of the rooms were furnished with bookcases and cozy, expensive furniture that reminded you of a library. It didn’t take you long to find your group, as Tony had apparently rented one of the private rooms. There were only around twenty people in attendance, Maria wasn’t kidding when she told you it would be a small gathering. You recognized two of the other associates who had been invited, Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova, and you gave them a friendly wave.

Maria was in the corner of the room, sitting on one of the couches with her wife, Natasha Romanov. You’d only briefly encountered the redhead, as she did a lot of international travel for the firm. They were speaking with Tony Stark, the latter who appeared to be at the end of telling a very animated story. Maria noticed you lingering, and waved you over once Tony finished talking. You awkwardly made your way over, trying not to trip in the process; you’d always been terribly clumsy. There was an empty spot next to Maria, so you took a seat.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Maria warmly greeted you. “Do you remember my wife, Natasha?”

“Of course, it’s great to see you again,” You said to the woman sitting on the other side of Maria.

Natasha offered you a small smile, wrapping her arm around Maria’s shoulder. “Maria’s been telling me all summer how much of a help you’ve been, and believe me, she doesn’t praise just anyone.”

Maria nudged Natasha’s shoulder. “That’s not true, I just have high expectations, unlike someone.”

Natasha playfully rolled her eyes. “Right, of course dear.” She turned to Tony, who was scrolling through his phone. “Have you met Maria’s young mentee, Stark?”

He looked up at the mention of his name, and his eyes landed on you. “Oh right, I remember you. Maria’s been raving about you for the past few months, and Natasha’s right, that’s a pretty rare occurrence for her.”

Maria glared at him, clearly unamused. “Funny as always, Tony.”

Sticking out his hand, you took it and gave it a firm shake. “Thank you so much for the opportunity this summer, Mr. Stark. I’ve learned so much.”

Tony waved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t mention it. Have you met my other platonic, legal half? He’s probably lurking around here somewhere.”

“Most likely avoiding you,” Natasha quipped to Tony, her eyes scanning the room. “Looks like he’s over by my sister.”

Her sister? You turned your head to look around the room, until you saw Stephen lightly conversing with Yelena. You didn’t realize she was Natasha’s sister, and Natasha seemed to note your confusion.

“Yelena doesn’t like people to know we’re related,” Natasha explained, her tone more gentle as her eyes were locked on her sister. “She thinks people will say she only got the position because I work here.”

“Well she’s not entirely wrong,” Tony offered, ignoring the glare Natasha gave him, before wildly waving his arms to get Stephen’s attention. It didn’t take long for Stephen to notice, and you watched him frown.

“Did you need something, Tony?” Stephen questioned, annoyance clear by his tone.

“Well you keep lecturing me on not offering the summer associates jobs without you being present,” Tony pointed out, “God forbid I have any fun.”

“I only told you that because you once tried to convince half of them they could only have the job if they signed a contract saying they could only refer to you as their Overlord,” Stephen pointed out, and Natasha briefly snickered before Maria shot her a disapproving look.

“It was a joke!” Tony exclaimed, pointing at you. “Back me up here, if I told you that, you would know I was joking, right?”

“Um…” You trailed off, your brain replaying what he had just said to Stephen about jobs. “I’d probably have to read the contract first.”

Tony sighed, “The world isn’t what it used to be. Fine then, Strange, you’re up.”

Stephen sat down next to Tony, and just like the latter did, he stuck his hand out for you to shake. “It’s nice to formally meet you. Maria’s kept us up to date on all the work you’ve been completing. How have you enjoyed your summer at the firm?”

“It’s been the most wonderful opportunity,” You raved, wondering if this conversation was heading where you desperately hoped it was. “I’m so grateful for everything I’ve learned.”

Stephen nodded, “We’re always happy to see our summer associates take the opportunity to use all of the resources we have available. Now, at the end of every summer, we like to ask our senior attorneys if they would like to refer anyone for a job. Maria, as well as a handful of others, all recommended you.”

Your brain short circuited, not quite believing what you were hearing. “You’re offering me a job?”

“We’d like to invite you to join the firm as a junior associate once you’ve graduated and passed The Bar,” Stephen continued, and you felt faint. “It’s a written offer that we can send to you on Monday morning.”

“That you’ll have one of the paralegals email out on Monday morning,” Tony corrected him before looking back to you. “What do you say? Do you want to join the greatest firm in the city? The salary is competitive, of course. Full benefits and all.”

Natasha snickered again, only this time Maria didn’t try to stop her, and you remembered how Maria mentioned Tony liked to take this time to brag. There were so many emotions swirling around in your head, but you were mostly in shock.

Stephen seemed to notice you were overwhelmed. “You can take the weekend to think it over, and take a look at the offer on Monday. I’m sure this is a lot to take in all at once.”

You nodded, grateful for that. “Thank you so much, Mr. Strange, Mr. Stark. I’m so thankful for the opportunity.”

“We’ll talk on Monday,” Tony reiterated, standing up, and practically dragged Stephen with him. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you so much,” You acknowledged Maria, who had been quietly conversing with Natasha. “I honestly can’t believe this is really happening.”

“You deserve it,” Maria insisted, relaxing ever so slightly against Natasha. “Congratulations, and I hope we’ll be working together again next summer.”

“You’re getting soft in your old age,” Natasha lightly teased her wife, giving you a wink. “Congratulations, and good luck on your final year of school.”

You thanked them both for a final time, before letting them have some privacy. There were still so many thoughts rushing through your brain, and the room was so bright and so loud, you needed to clear your head. As you started walking out of the room, you entered the main bar and decided that you didn’t need to clear your head, you needed a drink. The bar was fairly quiet, with a few patrons scattered throughout the room. You made your way to an empty stool, and waited for the bartender to finish making a drink before you ordered a vodka tonic.

There was hardly anyone else sitting at the bar, except for a woman a few stools down from you. She had dark brown hair, tucked behind her ears, and she was sipping on a glass of some variety of red wine. From a quick glance, you could see she was reading something on her phone, and you watched the frown lines on her forehead deepen every so often as she continued to scroll. The bartender came back with your drink, and you thanked him before taking a small sip.

“Come here often?” An unfamiliar voice asked, and you curiously turned your head to find the woman a few stools down was now staring at you.

“I beg your pardon?” You replied in confusion, wondering if she was talking to you.

The woman arched an eyebrow at you, and you felt your cheeks flush under her heated gaze. She stayed in her seat, but her eyes remained locked on yours. “Some people would call that a pick up line, but not you apparently.”

“Do you often hit on strangers in a bar?” You questioned, watching her take a sip of her wine.

“Well if you came and sat next to me, you wouldn’t be much of a stranger,” The woman countered, and patted the bar stool next to her.

This was crazy, you reasoned with yourself. This woman could be a lunatic, or a serial killer. But she was looking at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher, and her eyes were so blue that you could feel yourself slowly getting lost in them. Before you fully realized what you were doing, you scooted over until you were sitting next to her. Her red lips turned up in a smirk, and she shut her phone off, placing it in her bag. There was something so intriguing about her, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“So what brings a pretty little thing like yourself here on a Friday night?” She asked curiously, her eyes hungrily searching yours, and you could feel your cheeks begin to darken at her words. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you the way she was.

“Um, I’m here for a work event,” You said quietly, unsure of how much information you were willing to share with a stranger. “An internship event, rather. What about you?”

The woman nodded, taking another sip of wine. “Mmm, this and that. I’m staying at The William for a few nights while my place gets redecorated,” There was a sparkling glint in her eyes as she added, “And there’s a rather spectacular view of the city from my room.”

The color deepened in your cheeks, and you chose to take a rather large sip of your drink. “Oh, that’s…interesting.”

“Isn’t it though,” The woman agreed, and you watched her fingers lightly twirl around the glass in her hand. “I never got your name, darling.”

“You didn’t ask,” You pointed out, and she smirked at you.

“Feisty thing, aren’t you?” She guessed, gracefully scooting her stool closer to yours, looking at you expectantly.

There was something so addictive about the way she was staring at you, and it made you lower your guard as you told her your name. She let out another low hum, and repeated it back to you, saying it nice and slowly, drawing out each syllable. At this point, she was close enough that you could smell her perfume. The rich notes of vanilla and lavender swirled together through your senses, and you felt yourself becoming more and more distracted. Taking another large sip of your drink, you realized it was nearly empty. The woman also seemed to notice, as she waved the bartender over.

“What are you drinking, dear?” She asked, her voice sweet like honey.

“A vodka tonic,” You replied, and she slid your empty glass towards the bartender.

“Another one of those, please, as well as a Pinot Noir. Put her drinks on my tab,” She instructed the bartender, ignoring your protest that you could pay for your own drinks.

“Don’t be silly,” She gently chided you, one of her hands moving up to brush your hair out of your face. “You have gorgeous eyes, has anyone ever told you that?”

Every compliment was leaving you more flustered than the last, and you had no idea how she was having this strong of an effect on you. It was the alcohol, your brain reasoned, that had to be it. “No, not really,” You replied, your voice growing more timid.

The woman let out a disapproving tsk, her fingers lingering on your face before slowly pulling away. “Disappointing, but not surprising.”

The bartender returned at that moment with your drinks, and you mumbled a quiet thank you, hoping this would give you some liquid courage. You realized at that moment she never told you her name.

Clearing your throat, you did your best not to sound as intimated as you were. She was this beautiful, sort of menacing, and slightly strange woman. You didn’t want to humiliate yourself. “You know, for someone who hounded me for my name, it’s a little odd you never told me yours.”

The woman smirked again, and you thought you saw her lick her lips. “You never asked, dear,” she pointed out, and her fingers reached out to lightly brush yours. “I’m Agnes.”

Her touch, light as it was, felt like a shock of electricity coursing through your system. You kept waiting for her to let go of your hand, but instead she gently turned it so your palm was visible, and began tracing patterns on it as she sipped her wine.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agnes,” You said, your courage slowly disappearing, and you weren’t sure what it was that you wanted from her, you just knew you didn’t want her to stop touching you.

Agnes laughed, the rich sound ringing deliciously in your ears. “Believe me, honey, the pleasure is all mine.”

The hand stroking your palm began to make its way up your arm, and you were embarrassed by the goosebumps you felt by having her hands on you. Agnes also seemed to notice this reaction, and she was looking as if she wanted to eat you alive. She leaned in closer to you, her breath hot on your ear as she whispered, “I don’t normally do this, but I’d love to continue this discussion in my hotel room. Would you care to join me?”

It would seem tonight was just full of surprises. Her face was so close to yours, and your brain was still actively short circuiting. You’d barely spent any time with this woman, and you only knew her first name, but it didn’t matter. It was clear what this was, a one night stand. This didn’t have to mean anything, and you were riding a high from your job offer; you didn’t want it to mean anything. All you knew was that her breath was hot in your ear, and her fingers were lightly gripping your arm, and you wanted more. No, you needed more. You needed her.

Fearing you wouldn’t be able to produce any actual words, you wordlessly nodded in agreement. Agnes proceeded to close out her tab, and you made a quick note of the Black AmEx card the bartender returned to her. She guided you out of the room, her hand grazing your lower back. You felt like you were floating, and the only thing grounding you to reality was the feel of her fingers stroking your back, slowly moving lower with every step you took.

Upon reaching the elevators, Agnes waited for you to enter before following, and pressed the button for her floor. As soon as the doors closed, it was as if a switch went off. Her hands were all over you, and within a moment you were against the wall of the elevator. While her right hand stayed pressed against your back, moving down to grab at your ass, her left moved up to gently cup your cheek, forcing you to look at her. Her eyes began to darken with arousal, and before you could even process what was happening she kissed you.

You’d been kissed before, and you thought you knew how good it could be, but that was nothing compared to the feel of her lips against yours. She kissed you with fervor, like a woman starving and you were her salvation. Her lips were so soft and smooth against your own, it was addictive. As she lightly slapped your ass, bringing you impossibly closer to her, you let out a moan and she took that opportunity to slip her tongue between your lips. She tasted faintly of Pinot Noir, and you eagerly allowed her to dominate your mouth. Her hips jutted against yours, creating just enough friction for you to imagine how much better it would feel to have more.

The elevator dinged, signaling you were at her floor, and she reluctantly broke your kiss. You let out a quiet whine and Agnes chuckled, leaning in to whisper, “Patience, honey. My room is right down the hallway.”

She nearly had to drag you along, as your legs were starting to shake, and the walk to her room seemed endless. When you finally reached it, she hurriedly tapped her keycard to unlock the door. Yanking you inside, she slammed your back against the door, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Wasting no time, she began messing with the clasp of your dress, and as it became undone she helped you out of it, leaving you in your bra and panties. The older woman let out a low growl, and pulled you flush against her. Moving you towards the bed, she nearly tore your bra and panties off in the process, before laying you flat on your back.

She straddled your hips, and when you attempted to move your hands up to her waist she swatted them back down. “Be a good girl and behave,” Agnes warned lightly. “I’d hate to have to restrain you.”

You couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips at that threat. Agnes smirked again, taking her shirt off and tossing it across the room, revealing a lacy dark purple bra. She leaned down and kissed you again, lightly biting your lower lip, causing you to groan into her mouth. It felt like she was all around you, but you needed more. You always prided yourself on your patience, but you were quickly losing it. Her lips left yours to trail down your jaw and the side of your neck, stopping near your collarbone. She began to leave hot, wet kisses along it, before biting down on the flesh at the base of your neck and sucking.

“Fuck,” You cried out at the sensation, and you heard her let out a low hum in response, keeping up her ministrations.

She left dozens of marks on you, and you were too lost in the haze of how good she felt to remember you were starting classes in two days. Her hands were relentless, moving all over your body. As her lips began to alternate attention between your breasts, her right hand moved between your thighs, and you both moaned as she felt how wet you were.

“Is all this for me, baby?” She murmured, raising her head up to yours, using two fingers to lightly tease your aching pussy. “What a pretty girl, dripping for me.”

Moaning, you arched your hips up, she was so close and you needed her fingers inside, filling you. “Please, Agnes.”

Letting out a low tutting noise, she pulled her fingers back. You whined, louder this time, and her responding grin sent a shiver down your spine. “Please what, honey? Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” You begged, desperate to feel her fingers on you again. “Please, fuck me.”

“Good girl,” Agnes praised you, roughly thrusting two fingers inside you, going deeper than you normally could on your own.

Her fingers were so long, and so good, as she set a fast pace, twisting and hitting all of the sweet spots in you. You could barely breathe, all you could focus on was how good it felt to have her fucking you. Her thumb rubbed gentle circles on your clit, and the added stimulation made you cry out. You were soaked, the movement of her fingers taking you created an obscenely filthy sound that filled the room. It didn’t take long until you felt a familiar unraveling, signaling you were close to orgasming.

“Such a good little whore, you’re taking me so well,” Agnes cooed and you felt yourself clench at her words. “Do you like this? Do you like having me fuck your tight little cunt?”

“Oh my fucking-” You cried out, but were cut off as she chose that moment to add a third finger, expertly curling them and bringing you that much closer to your release.

“That’s it, slut,” Agnes growled, fucking you even harder. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good around my fingers.”

“Agnes, please,” You whined, needing to feel yourself come undone. “Please I need…”

Agnes smirked, not relenting in her efforts, and began to leave kisses around the edge of your mouth. “What do you need, baby? Use your words for me.”

“Need to come, please. I need to come,” You babbled, as she took you higher and higher with every thrust of her fingers, and your words caused the older woman to groan.

“Come on my fingers, sweetheart,” Agnes ordered, and you felt yourself lose focus as the pleasure overcame you.

It was mind numbingly good, and you barely recognized the scream that left your throat. All you could feel were her fingers inside you, gently coaxing you through your orgasm. Her fingers slowly stilled, and you felt yourself pulse around them as her thumb gently eased off your clit. Pressing a sweet, slow kiss against your lips, Agnes pulled her fingers out, causing you to whine at how empty you felt.

“You took me so well,” Agnes purred, and you felt yourself drip even more at her words. “Such a slutty little pussy, you can’t even form complete sentences when I’m fucking you.”

You groaned, the filth spewing out of her mouth was a major turn on for you. “It’s not my fault you’re turning my brain into mush.”

Agnes fake pouted at you. “Oh, poor baby,” She mocked, pressing her hips against yours. “It’s a good thing you don’t need to use that little brain while I’m fucking you.”

“Want to taste you,” You moaned out, the idea just popping into your head. “Please.”

“Oh? You want to eat me out, baby?” Agnes questioned, her eyes growing darker yet still from arousal. “Do you want me to ride that pretty little face?”

“Fuck yes,” You begged, causing Agnes to chuckle before taking off her pants and panties, and moving you closer to the headboard before she straddled your face.

You could smell her; the scent was musky and sweet and you were salivating, sticking your tongue out in anticipation. Agnes rested one hand on the headboard and the other in your hair, slowly lowering herself onto your mouth. You wasted no time, licking and sucking, tasting her arousal. The guttural moan she let out spurred you on, eager to please her. She tasted so fucking good, and your tongue lapped up as much of her as you could. Her fingers tightened in your hair as she began to rock against your face, and you moaned against her as she roughly tugged.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, baby,” Agnes panted as she moved her hips faster. “You’re doing so well. Such a good job. Suck on my clit.”

Ever hoping to please her, you switched to swirling your tongue around her clit before sucking, hard. The moan she let out, louder than before, was entrancing. Her fingers kept your head in place as she rode your face, and you could sense her getting closer to the edge. Your tongue teased her entrance, slowly pushing inside and Agnes let out a loud hiss, encouraging you to go deeper.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck,” Agnes began to grind down, getting closer with every thrust of your tongue. “Such a sweet fucking mouth. Do you want me to come all over that pretty face?”

Nodding against her, you sucked and licked, thoroughly enjoying being used by her. It wasn’t long before she began to shudder, hips thrusting even harder against your face as she let herself go. She tugged on your head as she lost herself in the throes of pleasure, and you never saw something quite so beautiful. Her eyes were closed, head back as she let out several loud grunts, the sound causing you to twitch. You moaned at the taste of her cum, eager to get as much as you could. Her hips slowly stopped, and she gave herself a moment before lifting herself off of you, collapsing on the bed. She immediately pulled you closer, wrapping her arms around you. Her body was flush against yours, and you relished at the feeling of her tits pressed against your back. She was so soft, and so warm; every part of her felt like heaven to you.

She began to nuzzle your neck, pressing gentle kisses against your skin. “Fuck that was so good. Thank you, honey.”

“It was my pleasure,” You drawled out, growing more tired with every word you spoke, slowly feeling yourself drift off.

Agnes murmured something to you, but you were too far gone to hear what she said. The last thing you remembered was the feel of her body curled up around you as you finally passed out from exhaustion. You weren’t sure how long you slept, for when you finally woke up the room was filled with bright sunlight, causing you to wince. It didn’t take you long to realize you were alone, and the already large bed felt ten sizes too big. A part of you wondered if Agnes was in the bathroom, but when you eventually made it out of bed you realized she was gone. The room was completely empty, save for you and your clothes from last night.

You weren’t entirely sure what you had expected, it was a one night stand after all. But, you had assumed she would at least still be there in the morning when you woke up. Shaking those thoughts aside, you rushed to pick up your clothes and get dressed. As you were putting on your clothes, you noticed a small folded up note with your name on it on the bedside table. You slipped your heels back on before grabbing it, and was slightly disappointed to see how short it was.

Thanks again for a great night. -A

Well, at least she left you something. You crumpled the note and stuck it in your purse, leaving the room without a second thought. The next two days were spent in a daze, trying to get everything ready for the start of classes. Your roommates were thrilled to hear about your job offer, and even more intrigued to hear of your night out with an older woman. You kept the details to a minimum, as you always kept those things more private, but they enjoyed it nonetheless. By the time Sunday night rolled around you were absolutely spent. You had just finished marking up your planner for the next few weeks with your class schedule, and double checked the time for your first class as you set your alarm for bed before finally drifting to sleep.

Unfortunately, the exhaustion from the last few days made you sleep through your alarms, which almost never happened. But, after hearing your alarms go off one after another, one of your roommates came to check on you, the knocking on your door sent you shooting out of bed. You rushed through the apartment, throwing your laptop and books in your bag. As you were getting dressed, your eyes landed on the hickeys all over your neck, and you groaned. Great. Despite it still being summer, and extremely hot in the city, you wore a lightweight turtleneck. The lecture halls and library were usually freezing, so this wouldn’t seem too out of place to anyone.

Luckily your apartment was only a few blocks away from campus, and it never took you more than ten minutes to get there. You kept obsessively checking your watch, hoping to make it to your first class in time. Finally, you reached the correct building, and pulled up the class schedule on your phone to check which room you were in. Whipping around the corner, you spotted the door at the far end of the hallway. With one minute to go, you passed other students and professors, not a thought in your mind besides making it through those doors. Reaching the lecture hall, you opened the doors and went inside.The hall was relatively full, and as you searched for an empty seat you heard your professor begin to speak.

“Welcome to Ethics and Professional Responsibility in Criminal Practice.”

Wait a second, you knew that voice. How did you know that voice? You looked up, finding the last person you ever expected to run into, and you almost fell out of your chair. Standing there on the floor of the lecture hall was a strikingly familiar woman. It was the same woman from the other night, Agnes. Her messy dark brown hair was pulled back into an updo, and she wore an expensive looking black pantsuit. She was pulling up a slideshow on the laptop, so her back was turned, but it was her. You knew it was her. The strange thing was you didn’t remember reading her first name on the syllabus that had been sent out a few weeks prior.

After she finished projecting the slideshow, she turned her focus to the crowded lecture hall. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Agatha Harkness,” Her eyes scanned the room, until they eventually landed on you, and you watched her freeze, before quickly regaining her composure. “And I’ll be your professor for the semester.”

Fuck.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #wandavision au #marvel au #agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness fanfiction #agatha all along #lawyer au

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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year

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The Red Dress [Avenger! Loki x Fem. Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: (5) It's a big night for the team, and your outfit of choice makes quite the impression on one god in particular. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Hostility. Language. Jealously. Humour. Smuttish. Sexual tension. (w/c 3.7k)

Loki had been back from his latest mission for a whole week, and you were counting the days until he left again. It was the night of the annual Avenger’s shareholder party, the most important corporate night of the year. Mandatory attendance. A month and three days had passed since what you had come to term ‘the incidents’. Not that you were counting, of course. Memories of Loki’s dexterous hands roaming your body haunted you. How he made the world around you fade to darkness beneath his animalistic moans was still annoyingly clear as day, even in the dead of night. Particularly in the dead of night.

It was nothing. At least, that’s what you told yourself as a resplendent Loki Laufeyson descended the staircase to the party with a spring in every conceited step.

You smoothed a hand down the bodice of your red dress, the skater pleats of the silk skirt grazing your bare thighs. He was wearing some sort of tight tunic tonight, a mix of Asgardian and Earth fashion that could only have come from one of Stark’s legendary tailors. His flowing black hair was combed back, falling in an effortless train behind his shoulders. A familiar gold crescent adorned the material snug around his chest, the high collar straight against his devastatingly jawline. He wants everyone to know who he is, smug bastard, you thought venomously as you imagined how the cool metal of his sacred symbol over his heart would feel against your ass while you sat on his face. Because of course he does. The straight tunic brushed his thighs, a longer flap of material hanging teasingly over his manhood. Wise decision, Tony; you thought, remembering the ferociously primal stir his enormous bulge caused at the last event. Matte leather clung to his muscled legs, running down into formal knee high boots that made you want to scream. All black. Or is it dark green, you wondered; hungry eyes hovering on the creases appearing at his thighs as he gracefully made his way down the stairs alone. The whole thing was a blip, you told yourself. A moment of madness. Or two. If anything, you never thought about it at all. Seeing him swagger nonchalantly around the Tower with that token arrogance clinging to him like latex was unbearable, though. His whole demeanour, the haughty derision toward everyone and everything simmering beneath that perfect skin, brewing the next sarcastic quip. Unbearable. And what was even more unbearable was that the shithead was ignoring you. How many times had you grimaced at the ridiculous little cough of condescension that floated over your shoulder in the kitchen before he released a tepid barb? Too many, you thought; as your eyes scanned his proud features radiant in the reflections from the mirrorball. It was one of the many things you loathed about him. And yet now you finally had your wish that it would cease...somehow, it smarted. Like he was winning.

You’d fallen into the habit of talking a little louder in his vicinity when he graced the common rooms with his austere presence, saving your best lines for when he was close and could hear the rampant mirth you provoked. That he would see the scintillating hilarity he's missing by being a complete dick, you thought; running your eyes up his endless legs as he reached the bottom of the stairs, his eyes scanning the pulsing crowd with a self-assured smirk. Damn, he looks fucking good tonight, though you conceded reluctantly; grateful that the sway of your flouncy dress hid a slight involuntary thrust of your hips. He raised his chin, looking left and right; a glazed stare floating right past you. If you were honest, you had hoped that the perfectly fitted dress and the cleavage contained therein would lure him to you; drive him mad with longing or some damn thing. At least long enough to give him a taste of his own medicine. As he turned away, you realised that your cleavage would just as easily open the doors to Stark��s vault. And really, it wasn’t like you cared. Irritation marinated as Nat handed you a drink, your fingers absent-mindedly clasping the stem of the glass. She chattered over the music as you took a mental picture of Loki’s muscular body vacuum-packed into that ridiculous outfit to masturbate over later in the bath. Yes, you thought; your eyes crawling over his endless limbs as he greeted a flustered Rogers with a sarcastic bow. That will do nicely. “-hey, are you listening?” Nat said, in that peculiarly penetrating tone she saved for when she knew you were absolutely not listening. Your head tilted towards her with a strained smile, blinking several times. “Got distracted, sorry.” you said innocently. She nodded, taking a sip of her wine while observing the party’s latest arrival. Nat licked the faint stain of red from her upper lip. “You mean David Gandy over there?” she said, nudging her head towards Loki. You chuckled, an infectious giggle from Nat following. “I wonder what will give up first” she postured, folding her elegant arms. “Thor’s table manners or Loki’s new threads. He’s really poured in there, huh?” You snorted, shaking your head. “Loki’s manners more like.” you murmured to yourself, seeing Nat’s brow furrow. “Sorry, what was it you were saying before?” Her face softened, the placid expression returning. “Stark needs you on the bar.” “On the bar? You’re kidding me.” you whined, letting out an exasperated sigh. “How’s it going to look to the shareholders when one of the bloody team is on shaker-duty?” “Like good PR” she winked, reaching out and tugging down the neckline of your red dress to expose a tad more cleavage. “And no one makes a Martian Hard On like you, babe.” You sighed again, hating that she was right. “Fine.” you grimaced, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Come and talk to me later. If I get stuck with all the handsy drunk ones I’ll be mad.” you said, seeing her eyes light up at your words. “Those are my favourite.” she winked.

You made your apologies to those you cut across, dodging photographer’s flashes as they documented the party. “-Sorry!” you yelped, colliding with an unexpected wall of muscle. Stepping back, your face fell as Loki spun on his heels; looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. They narrowed, running appraisingly over your body, his brows knitted in a strange disapproval. “How did you get over here so fast?” you muttered, straightening as one of his long fingers re-adjusted a strap of your dress which had succumbed to the collision. “Keeping tabs on me, are we? I’m flattered.” he hummed, winding his arm around the shoulder of a mysterious smiling woman. You vaguely remembered seeing her face on the laminated VIP lists Steve had handed out at the briefing. Now you sort of wished you had read it. “Lead the way, barkeep.” Loki smirked, making you roll your eyes. You opened the hatch with a rough churning in your stomach. I did not join the Avengers for this bullshit, you thought as you grabbed the cocktail shaker from the back-shelf. Loki raised the woman’s hand, helping her perch on the barstool before setting himself down. You knew his thick thighs would be spread invitingly against the leather seat, the modestly flap casually set askew to accentuate the peek of the ever-present bulge in his always-just-a-little-too-tight trousers. He placed one forearm on the bar, eyes flickering upward to the side seductively in a way you could only assume was calculated. God, he looked so fucking- “What can I get you?” you said sharply, a manufactured smile stretched across your lips as a stressed-out looking Tony walked by, giving you a grateful nod. Loki pursed his lips in a theatrical ponder. “What do you feel like, darling?” he purred, turning to the woman by his side. She giggled, her cheeks turning pink as his bicep shifted beneath the tight tunic; clearly resting a hand on her leg. By day, she would be one of the most influential financiers in the country. But tonight, it seemed she was an eighteen year old groupie again. “Does she do cocktails?” the woman said coquettishly to Loki, her eyes not leaving his as he bit his lip. His tongue flicked out, running over his cupid’s bow. God, he was really laying it on thick. “She does.” he said thoughtfully, turning toward you with a knowing look. “And she has quite the speciality...remind me, what’s the name?” You sighed, the inevitability of his insider knowledge making you want to ram a cocktail stick in his eye.

“A ‘Martian Hard On’.” you said through gritted teeth, seeing the corner of Loki’s mouth twitch. “And how does one make this frankly delicious sounding concoction?” he purred, leaning closer over the bar with feigned interest.

“It’s not that good actually. Bit overrated.” you sniffed, wiping the damp cloth across the marble. Loki frowned. “I’ll just have Sex on the Beach.” the woman quipped, before gasping dramatically. “I mean the cocktail, not actual sex on the beach…” she drawled with faux-innocence, breaking out in a high-pitched laugh that made your teeth hurt.

You rolled your eyes again, turning to the rows of bottles on the mirrored shelves. In the reflection, you saw Loki lean towards her, the razor-straight line of his jaw twitching as he whispered in her ear. The high collar skirted the angle as he spoke, black slicing against the fairness of his skin. A token flash of his cheekbones that kept you awake at night made your stomach flip as the woman gasped, before giggling again. “Oh you are a bad man, Loki Laufeyson. Tony said I should watch out for you, and he was right.” She pushed his shoulder flirtatiously, watching Loki’s face crease in mock-hurt as he pressed a hand to his chest. His smile was uncharacteristically warm, twinkling eyes running over her admittedly pretty features like she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Hell, maybe she was. It’s just his job for the night, you thought, re-considering the liberal measure of peach schnapps you had poured for the woman now cackling at one of Loki’s over-inflated stories. He’s not actually going to- “Anything to report?” a rasping whisper floated over your shoulder, making you jump. “Christ, Steve…” you mumbled, before sliding the sloppily put together cocktail across the marble towards Loki and the woman. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Loki hummed condescendingly in your direction, passing the glass to his charge with a wink. “I’m just going to the restroom.” the woman said coyly after taking a sip, tugging at the stiff collar of Loki’s tunic. She leant closer, her lips grazing the smooth skin of his cheek. You could see her hand sliding up his thigh, your eyes widening as her palm cupped the bulge in his tight trousers. “Don’t go anywhere.” “Not even if I could, Madam...” Loki said coyly, making you choke back a reluctant laugh as Steve grimaced. The three of you watched the woman slink away, a prominent swing in her step. “That’s Tony’s biggest shareholder, Laufeyson. Don’t fudge it up.” Rogers spat when she was out of earshot, the vein in his temple twitching alarmingly. “I can assure you Rogers, I will not be fudging anything.” Loki drawled, inspecting his fingernails as his features softened to a knowing smile. “Unless she asks me to, of course.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed the same colour as his salmon shirt. “Now listen here, Laufeyson.” he hissed, “No funny business. You just need to show her a good time. Tell her a few jokes.” He raised a hand as Loki opened his mouth with a smart comment on the tip of his tongue. “PG jokes, thank you very much.” “He can handle it Steve” you sighed absent-mindedly, noticing a splash of something on the pleat of your dress. You frowned, looking up at them. “Just, drop it. She’ll be fine, she’s all over him.”

Rogers eyebrow cocked, his gaze running suspiciously between you and Loki as he patted his notebook against one soft palm. “So are you two...pals, now?” he said sceptically, noting the twitch of your eye as he spoke. “-Oh yes.” Loki drawled, throwing Steve a dazzlingly forced smile. “She’s warmed to me at last it seems. I did some charity work for her. Didn’t I, Agent?” You scowled, diligently polishing one of the ostentatious cocktail glasses Stark only brought out on very special occasions. “Charity work, huh?” Steve said, his eyebrows rising towards the god. “That’s spiff of you, Laufeyson. I’ll make a note for your review that you’re really inserting yourself into team culture.” “Oh yes. I’m all about inserting myself deep into the culture now, Rogers.” Loki murmured. “It was quite a desperate situation, really. Tragic, one might say. I simply couldn’t stand by and do nothing while the poor thing suffered.” You inhaled some of your own spit with a cough, spluttering with masked indignation. Loki’s face creased in faux-concern, leaning forward on the bar. “Are you alright, friend?” he murmured, a devilish smile tweaking his lips. Anger flushed through your blood, heat rising in your cheeks as you tried to stay calm. Charity. He’s got some fucking nerve, you thought, dabbing your mouth subtly with a napkin. Steve nodded briskly, scanning the room before giving someone a cheery wave and pushing away. You looked at Loki, his sanctimonious shit-eating grin doing nothing to dampen the conflicted whirl of thoughts in your mind. The music faded behind the thump of blood in your ears as Loki took sip of his manufactured-date’s drink. You were suddenly parched. The ridges of your tongue felt uncomfortable against the roof of your mouth. His cheekbones hollowed as he sucked at the edge of the glass, setting it down before licking his bottom lip with a low moan. The visceral feeling of Loki’s teeth sinking into the soft skin of your shoulder shuddered through you, seeing his eyes glint in the dim party lights, relishing your awkward reaction. “Delicious.” he growled, running his eyes down to your cleavage and back to your face. “Shame about the dress, though. A bit too garish for you, Agent. A bit too...attention-seeking, perhaps.” “You’re ridiculous.” you sniffed haughtily, clasping the edges of the bar with straight arms. Your shoulders flexed, pushing your breasts up. “And you of all people can’t lecture me about seeking attention...which is not what this is, so I don’t know why you-” “Oh?” Loki cut in. He leant forward, beckoning you with a double flick of one thick fingertip. “Well it seems that whether you want it or not...you have it.” There was a pause. You could feel your traitorous pussy sliding against your thin panties, his unrelenting smarm making you want to pull him toward you and shut him up in the only way that seemed to work.

Loki sipped the cocktail again, nudging his head subtly towards the seating area to the side of the bar. You looked over, seeing Thor displayed uncomfortably on the sofa. He was leaning forward, one meaty elbow resting on his knee with the fist propped beneath his chin. His thighs were spread wide, his eyes twitching with murderous intensity as he stared at you like dinner. “He’s flirting with you.” Loki purred, a smile tugging at his lips. You snorted, feeling your cheeks heat. “He is not. I don’t know what he’s doing but it’s not that.” you garbled, wiping the bar with a damp cloth. A fizzing knot grew in your belly as Loki’s fingers drummed the marble between you nonchalantly. “In Asgard, we have very particular customs around colours, Agent. Are you aware?” You huffed, hoping that the clawing in your stomach would pass. “By wearing that misguided little sliver of crimson silk, you have aroused some very deep-seated urges within my brother that you wish to bed him tonight. To be ridden like a fine Asgardian mare. A fabled red flag to a particularly lacklustre bull, one might say.” You looked again at Thor, now massaging his thigh; his darkened gaze undressing you. He bit his lip, one eye closing in a slow, calculated wink. “Oh god…” you murmured dryly. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Agent. He’s not very good, I’m afraid. Especially considering your recently elevated standards.” You snorted. “I find it hard to believe that you guys are used to women traipsing around in your ‘colours’ waiting for their chance to shag you.” you hissed, throwing Thor a sideways glance. “I am not going to sleep with him. That’s absurd.” Loki looked at you silently, a closed smile stretching across his placid face before he spoke. “Oh, believe it Agent. We Asgardian princes never wanted for company. Even if my brother was a little less...discerning.” He smirked, enjoying every second of your growing discomfort. “And as for your intentions with him tonight, I recommend you alert him to your little misunderstanding sooner rather than later.” “And what about your little ‘misunderstanding’? You know she basically thinks you’re some kind of superpowered gigalo, right?” you sneered, seeing Loki’s eyebrows rise. He chuckled, shaking his head just as the woman surfaced from the throng of the crowd. She had pulled the neckline down, and you could have sworn that when she had left she had been wearing pantyhose beneath that party dress. “Who says I’m not, Agent?” he whispered covertly, pushing himself off the barstool as he leant closer. His cologne filled your nostrils, the musky tang making your mouth water. “You of all people know I can be anything she desires.” He tore his hardened gaze from your eyes to the beaming woman with an exaggerated smile. “Amanda, darling. Let’s dance, shall we?” he announced, peeling his long limbs from the barstool.

Amanda, you scoffed with a grimace as she melted willingly into his lean body. The glass you had picked up became the most interesting thing in the room as you tried to maintain an air of indifference, polishing it casually. You could feel Thor’s eyes burning into you as you stared at the crystal held between your fingertips. The synapses of your brain were fizzing, the temptation to look up to the dancefloor...irresistible. Fuck, you thought; feeling your eyes rising to the busy centre of the room. The crowd pulsed beneath the lights from the mirrorball over the sound of a remixed version of Rasputin. In that suit, his body was endless. The wide rim boots cut in solid angles at his knees, the hard meat of his thighs rising to the hem of the tunic flexing visibly through the fabric. His hand slid over the curves of her hips, ghosting her ass before pulling the keening woman tight to his broad chest.

Your eyes flickered to Rogers lurking in the shadows watching them. Arms crossed, brow furrowed in disapproval. Loki’s outfit clung like a luxurious second skin, every inch reacting to the movement of his limbs as he gracefully swayed her body to his. Amanda’s fingers ran up his torso, bumping over the curve of Asgardian gold. She tucked a long strand of hair behind his ear, her eyes smouldering with singular intent to fuck this heavenly creature in whose arms she somehow found herself tonight. But she doesn’t know him like I do, you thought with a grimace. She doesn’t know what he’s really like-

Loki swung her gracefully outward, pulling her back to him with a timed thrust of his muscular hips; bucking gently as her hand travelled lower. The stem of the elegant martini glass in your grip snapped. Primitive jealousy like you had never known surged through your blood like napalm, a ferocious shiver rolling across every nerve making your hair stand on end. The audacity of the god cut deep as you smacked the towel to the marble bar, making straight for the hatch. White noise filled your ears as you made your way over to the seating area, a flustered looking Thor standing to attention as you approached. Your fingers scraped at his shirt, managing to snag an inch of material not plastered to his frame. He jerked forward, the rough stubble of his cheek scratching against your skin. “Dance with me.” you purred into his ear, feeling his huge frame shudder. He growled, striding forward and tugging you roughly to the dance-floor. The shards of light from the mirrorball stung your eyes as Thor whipped you into his bulging arms, the cotton of his shirt straining dangerously against freakishly large biceps. Oh god, you thought as the room spun. You were vaguely aware of his large hands slipping down your waist, pulling you toward him with a firm tug. “My lady, you tease too brazenly. For too long I have coveted this.” he grunted, his hair scratching your eyes as he began to gyrate in time with Boney M. “Wha-what?” you squeaked, thinking of the years you’d spent side by side with not a hint of the heated desire seeping from him as he wound his imposing body around yours. “That dress…my colours” he smouldered, his eyes darkened with lust, “...it has lit a fire within me. I must have you.” One hand slid over your lower back, grasping the folded material of the red silk skirt. He growled again, tightening his fist; burying his face in your neck as he swayed deeper against your frame. Thor’s hot breath skated over the place his brother had made his mark the month prior, the pale bruise still visible in the harsh light of day.

“Thor…” you gasped breathlessly, pushing a palm against his chest as one belonging to another roughly smacked him on the shoulder, casting him backward. You gasped as Loki shoved you briskly to the side, stepping toward the blonde. “Ordinances of the Colours do not apply in this realm, brother.” Loki snarled, baring his teeth. The disco lights glinted on the gold adorning his suit; his fierce eyes flashing in confrontation. Your pussy tightened, seeing Loki’s fists clench by his sides. “Ordinances or not, brother...she claimed me as hers for this dance.” Thor postured, squaring up to the dark-god with a solitary step forward. “And this night, I believe.” He added, suggestively. “Ask her.” Loki shot you a look that would kill the weak. You swallowed, fighting the feeling of your knees attempting to buckle. “It’s true.” you said, much more calmly than you expected, your stomach fizzing. “I did. The dance, anyway.” Loki rolled his eyes. “Aren’t they missing you on the bar, Agent?” he spat, gesturing to the small queue of people hanging against the counter-top expectantly. It was your turn to roll your eyes, walking past him with a shove of your shoulder. It hurt. Fucking Laufeyson and his fucking ego- you thought furiously, hearing the brothers bicker theatrically behind you. Roger’s frustrated drawl soon intervened between them as you stared resolutely ahead on your path. Who the hell does he think he- Suddenly you were tugged roughly to the side. The heels you wore skated over the smooth floor as you careened into the dark hall passageway away from the humming crowd and thumping music. Long fingers clasped over your parted lips, your back thudding against the nearest wall as Loki loomed above you; resplendent and menacing in the gloom. The skintight tunic pressed against your cleavage, his hardening cock dragging slowly upward against your body with formidable intent. The god’s bottomless eyes were dark liquid as he stared down at you, hair falling in curled tendrils against your cheek. A muscle in his clenched jaw bobbed as he wet his lips. “Lead me to your rooms, Agent.” he enunciated quietly, his chest heaving with slow, heavy breaths. “Immediately.”

Continued in The Red Dress: Ruined (w/c 2.5k) Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection